Fiction: Never Early, Probably Late

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Hello all! I’m so excited it’s my posting day. I have a handful of ficlets that I’ll be posting today. A couple this morning, and then a couple more later tonight. So, without further ado, here’s the first.

Title: Never Early, Probably Late
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Some Never Never Land of a Season Six where Buffy worked out her issues, and she and Spike are officially a couple.
Summary: Pure, unadulterated schmoop.

Buffy released the last bit of hair from the iron, watching in satisfaction as the gold lock sprang back into a bouncy curl. She set the curling iron down on the sink counter, the slight burning smell it always carried drifting past her. With a toss of her head, she watched her blonde hair bounce prettily in freshly curled waves.

With a yank, she unplugged the cord and set the iron to the side to let it cool. Plucking up the pair of earrings sitting on the counter, she quickly fastened the gold and red danglies into her earlobes. Earrings fastened, Buffy took in her appearance. Smokey eye make-up and glistening red lips? Check. Shining, thoroughly curled hair? Check. Soft cotton summer dress the color of cool mint with a halter neckline and swishy skirt? Check. Guaranteed to make a certain foul-mouthed vampire drop dead? Or at least, deader? Check.

As if on cue, a pounding came at the bathroom door. “He’s here,” Dawn called, voice muffled through the wood.

Buffy pulled open the door and gave her a slightly nervous smile, “How do I look?”

Her little sister gave her a thorough once over and snorted. “Depends. Do you actually want to make it to the party tonight?”

Buffy smiled with satisfaction. “Good. Tell him I’ll be down in a sec, I just need to get my shoes.”


Dawn disappeared down the stairs as Buffy hustled into her room. In the middle of her bed, snuggled down in their shoebox amidst carefully wrapped tissue paper, was a pair of strappy heels she’d just discovered downtown this afternoon. Perched on the edge of her bed, she hurriedly unwrapped them and began strapping them into place. Those tiny buckle things always gave her problems until she poked the metal through the eye of the strap the first time. It was always a very delicate matter of using just enough strength to force the buckle right, but not enough to break the stupid things. Many a pair of cute shoes had bit the dust due to Slayer strength.


Buffy’s head whipped up at the low curse. Spike stood, lingering in the doorway, one hand wrapped around a bouquet of flowers, the other gripping the doorjamb so hard it audibly creaked.

She straightened up and gave him a small smile as he looked her up and down. “Hi.” She loved it when he had that look on his face. That look. That one right there. The one that always had her melting into a Slayer shaped puddle of goo.

She didn’t really know what he saw when he looked at her like that. All she saw in the mirror, aside from a Slayer, was a pretty girl. But pretty in a well made up sort of way. Nothing really special. Nothing amazingly better from any other pretty, well made up girl.

But when he looked at her like that. In that way that said she was the most beautiful girl in the room – in the entire world – she could only wonder what he saw. What girl did he see when he looked at her like that? Like she was the sun and the moon and the stars all at once.

Silently, the flowers fell from his hand and in three quick steps he crossed the room. In less than a blink, he was on her. One hand tangled in her hair, the other sweeping up her thigh, lips pressing against her throat, murmuring hot things she could barely discern. “Spike, wait.” Her hands clutched his arms, pushing him back or pulling him closer she couldn’t tell. “We can’t, we have to go. They’re expecting us.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled against her throat.

And neither did she. At least, not when – he pulled back suddenly, eyes steady on hers – not when he looked at her like that.


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