It’s a great honor to open a new round of seasonal_spuffy and I’m happy to be here again! Thank you, ladyofthelog and snickfic, for organizing the event, and thanks to amyxaphania for a wonderful banner! Can’t wait to read everyone else’s stuff.
I’ve got a fic for today. Possibly I’ll post some fanart on free-for-all day.
Banner by fabulously talented sentine (click on the pic for bigger version)
AUTHOR: Moscow Watcher
DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Joss Whedon. Idea belongs to James Marsters. I own absolutely nothing.
LENGTH: 3,000 words (30 drabbles)
TIMELINE: Post-Chosen. Vague comics spoilers.
GENRE: Comedy, fluff.
SYNOPSIS: A Spuffy reunion without embarassing circumstances? Impossible!
NOTES: Thanks to my wonderful, patient, supportive beta extraordinaire deird1!
a spell on Spike to be a woman for a day?
James Marsters: Lesbian sex with Buffy. A lot of it.
Spike had never thought his first lovemaking with Buffy after his fiery death in the Hellmouth would be like this.
During the years that passed he imagined their reunion any which way he could. Sometimes he had nightmares about Buffy mocking his traitorously flaccid penis, telling him he was a worthless lover and she had never enjoyed sex with him. Sometimes he had erotic dreams about pliant, moaning-with-pleasure-Buffy, enthralled by his mighty spear, riding him with abandon till complete exhaustion.
But he couldn’t imagine – ever! – that in this crucial moment of his unlife he wouldn’t have a cock.
He made a big mistake when he went to a bar on Wilshire Blvd. to meet his contact. There he stumbled upon Andrew Wells, who was “on a mission”, as he put it.
“My mission is sending new slayers to Buffy,” Andrew explained proudly. “I’m kinda slayer pimp… except it sounds so wrong and Buffy would kill me if she heard it!”
Spike smirked involuntarily. “That’s my girl!”
“Exactly!” Andrew thought it over. “Why are you hiding from her?”
“I don’t belong to her life.”
“Spike, kill me with your manly vampire fangs if you want, but you’re an idiot.”
One hour and a dozen of shot glasses later they were still talking about Buffy.
“I swear she’s pining after you.” Andrew gave him a Meaningful Look. “I understand Buffy. We all miss you, Spike.”
“Bollocks. Slayer has moved on long ago. Seven years have passed.” Spike squashed the urge to brood and asked as casually as he could, “Does Buffy have a boyfriend?”
“Actually, the last time I saw her in bed, she was sharing it with a pretty Japanese slayer.”
Spike frowned. “You mean they don’t have normal sleeping facilities?”
“No, I mean her last lover was a girl.”
When Spike woke up, he found himself in an unfamiliar room. He vaguely remembered Andrew’s revelation about Buffy’s Japanese slayer lover, but the rest was lost in the drunken haze. Cursing, he sat up, absently patted his pockets for cigarettes and realized that something was wrong.
What the hell has happened to him? Spike tentatively put his hand on his crotch and froze in horror. He must be having a nightmare. He pinched himself, but it didn’t help. He unzipped his pants with shaking hands and got a visual confirmation of his worst fear.
His cock was gone.
“But it was your idea!” Andrew was all injured innocence. “I only did what you told me.”
Spike growled. “I’ll ask Red to do a truth spell on you.”
Panic flashed on Andrew’s face. “Okay, maybe I exaggerated a bit – but you did say you wanted to slip into the Watcher’s Council incognito to see if Buffy really pines after you. I said I could turn you into a woman and smuggle you in as a newly-discovered slayer. You nodded before you fell asleep. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off in a few days… Oh, Spike, you’re so cute!”
“Why? It’s a female form of William.”
Andrew beamed. “Spike, I know a perfect name for you – Angelina!”
“You don’t like Brad Pitt’s wife?”
“Oh. You mean that bint who played Lara Croft.”
“And you decided it’s about reshaping you into a female version of Angel?” Andrew snorted. “You’re so fixated on your sire, Spike. It’s unhealthy. Actually, I’m writing a thesis on sire-childe dynamics…”
Resigned, Spike watched Andrew open his notebook, book their flight, check his mail and lament about spam with offers to enlarge his penis.
“…Angelina got bitten and sired before she was initiated,” Andrew explained to Xander who went out to meet them at the castle’s yard. “She is unique. She’s a vampire vampire slayer… no, vampire slayer of vampires… no, vampiric vampire slayer…”
Spike nodded automatically. The prospect of seeing Buffy made his knees shaky. Thankfully, Xander wasn’t paying him much attention.
“Okay, you two may join the others,” he said. “We’ll talk to you later, Angelina. Right now we have urgent matters to work out”.
“What’s up?” Andrew asked. “You look gloomy.”
Xander snorted. “It’s spring, children. Hence, another regularly scheduled apocalypse.”
Xander wasn’t exaggerating. Turned out, some demonic cult had stolen Acathla from Area 51 where it was sent by The Initiative in summer of 1998, after Buffy’s departure from Sunnydale. Quicker than you could say “Angelus would be proud of these bloody wankers” they’d activated Acathla at the South Pole.
“In a few hours the vortex will engulf the whole Antarctic region and reach South America,” Giles said gloomily.
“Who knew the bleeding rock was reusable,” Spike murmured.
“There is only one way to stop the apocalypse. To go back in time and destroy Acathla before the Initiative seized it.”
Giles looked Buffy in the eye. “Only you can go there and fix it.”
“I’ll go with her,” Willow declared.
“I’m with you,” Xander said.
“You can’t,” Giles said. “The law of temporal physics will destroy anyone who gets closer than twenty miles to his other self. Only a person who wasn’t in Sunnydale that summer can go with Buffy. Preferably somebody who lived there, knows the town, has connections…”
Spike raised his hand.
“Who are you?” Giles asked.
“Meet Angelina, the vampire slayer of vampires,” Andrew exclaimed. “She is the bestest expert on Sunnydale’s underworld I ever met!”
The prospect of fighting together with Buffy against the impossible odds felt so normal and familiar that suddenly all Spike’s nervousness had evaporated.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said to Buffy. “You know what’s cooler than the destiny of the world in the hands of a blonde?”
“The destiny of the world in the hands of two blondes!”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “We hardly know each other and I already hate you.”
He smirked. “And I’m all you got.”
She perked up. “What did you say, Angelina?”
“Um… that you can count on me. Why?”
She frowned. “A deja-vu. Forget it.”
“Your face looks familiar, Angelina.” Willow furrowed her brow. “Could I have seen you at Sunnydale High? Were you hanging out with Harmony?”
“Kind of,” Spike murmured. “Don’t remind me.”
“My sympathies. Were you…”
Thankfully, Buffy changed the topic. “So, how we destroy that Acathla thingie?”
“I don’t have time to find the right spell. You guys will have more time in 1998.”
“And how do we get back?”
“I connect your time-travel spell to Acathla’s destruction. As soon as it’s demolished, you get back automatically.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“Improvise.” Willow smiled encouragingly. “You always come through, Buffy.”
The mission started with an embarrassment.
“Those peeps who made “Terminator” – they knew!”
“Hardly. They just wanted to showcase Arnold in his birthday suit.”
Ogling a naked Slayer without getting an erection was freaky. With an inhuman effort Spike averted his eyes from Buffy who was trying in vain to cover all the strategic parts of her body with her hands. He looked around: they landed in the hall of the mansion on Crawford-street, exactly as Willow promised.
But it was the only good news.
The place where Acathla had stood that fateful night was empty.
“Drusilla is the most evil vampire ever! Murdering thousands of innocent people wasn’t enough for the bitch! Now she’s making me feel fat!” Disgusted, Buffy tugged down Drusilla’s white frock, a size too small for her breasts.
Spike swallowed a snarky comeback. His own old jeans and T-shirt fitted his current female frame , but he’d rather die (again) than put on a dress. Or a skirt. He had hardly survived shaving legs the first day of his female existence; it was bigger torture than getting a soul. Thank heavens, vampires heal quickly.
Poor women, suffering for their beauty effulgent.
“Drilling up through the stone of an underground tunnel? We’ll end up as dirty as pigs.”
“Slayer, we need dosh to pay for intel, for new clothes, maybe for spell ingredients. And the crypt under the Brookside Park is full of jewels. Put two and two together.”
Buffy sighed. Why the voice of reason was so infuriating? Especially coupled with those luscious lips and naughty tongue that reminded her of so many lost opportunities.
Buffy’s hands itched to punch something.
“Come on, Summers. A pneumatic chipper will help you to vent your sexual frustrations more effectively than a regular stake.”
Spike shoveled a fistful of jewels in his pocket and grinned, triumphant.
“I’ll sell these trinkets and we’ll have enough dough…” He saw Buffy going through the heap of jewellery and smirked. “Looking for this?”
He placed the gem of Amarah in her hand. She shot him a suspicious glance.
“You know way too much, Angelina.”
Spike looked away. “Puh-lease. Everybody knows about the sodd… famous gem. It’s a vampiric Holy Grail.”
Buffy narrowed her eyes. “You remind me of a certain person, Angelina. A certain monumentally infuriating person.”
“Really?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes. Spill. Have you slept with Spike?..”
“…I can’t believe it! You’re jealous.”
“I’m not! I just… I have to know. In the interests of our mission and all. Have you slept with him?”
“Never,” Spike said honestly.
“Don’t you dare lie, Angelina.”
“I swear! When I lived in Sunnydale, I was in love with a girl who didn’t love me. I was so infatuated with her I didn’t pay attention to anybody else.”
Buffy sighed. Not only had she been sent to the past in the company of a sexy vampire. She had been sent to the past in the company of a sexy LESBIAN vampire.
…As it turned out, one certain sexy lesbian vampire was very good at selling jewels at the black market, paying informants and blackmailing the head of The Initiative security who agreed to give them access to Acathla if Spike didn’t tell anybody about his visits to the vampire brothel.
While one certain sexually frustrated vampire slayer was equally good at buying new clothes and shoes as well as beating the shit out of demons and sorcerers in her quest of rituals to destroy Acathla.
“…Here it is,” Buffy proclaimed proudly, waving a scroll.
Then she read the text and gasped.
“Two bodies become one and create the purifying flame that destroys the idol.” Buffy blushed. “Make love, not war, blah-blah… Those sorcerers must have been hippies.”
Spike cringed. The prospect of making love nor war without his cock wasn’t particularly appealing. “Maybe there is some other way?”
Buffy sighed. “Look, Angelina, I don’t like it either, but there’s no other way. Let’s face it. We’re two consenting adults, and if the ritual demands sexual intercourse…” Buffy rolled her eyes. “God, I hate hippies.”
Spike swallowed back a retort that he’d liked hippies back in the Woodstock era. They’d tasted great.
“There is something I want to ask you,” Buffy murmured. “I’m not that experienced at… I’m afraid you have to lead the way – I mean, I’m not afraid – it was just a figure of speech… It’s just – I need somebody to steer me around the bends. So, um… I count on you.”
Incredulous, Spike listened to her babbling.
“You want me to teach you about Sapphic love?”
“Well, duh. That is, if those Sapphic demons are experienced lesbians.” Buffy furrowed her brow. “You are experienced, Angelina, aren’t you? You said you were in love with a girl.”
“…Oh – that.” Spike giggled nervously. “Yes. Indeed. But, you know, the sex we had – you wouldn’t have liked it. It was very – well, rough. Very violent. We had plenty of cuts and bruises the whole time…”
Buffy smiled nostalgically. “You know, I had a similar experience – but he was a guy. He was so…” She blinked back tears. “I mean I don’t mind rough sex, Angelina. Especially if it’s about saving the world. We’ll do it. Together.”
Spike nodded reluctantly. Hopefully his sexual expertise could save the day, after all. Buffy used to love his tongue.
Buffy hated Angelina’s tongue. Naughty tongue that made her wet every time it curled around Angelina’s teeth. Nasty tongue that made her furious by sounding so patronizing.
“Slayer, we know nothing about that sodding purifying flame! It might burn you alive! Put that bloody Gem of Amarah on your finger now, stupid bint!”
“Because you’re their leader and they all need you. I have to keep you safe.”
Buffy gritted her teeth as she put the ugly ring on her finger. Angelina’s sense of entitlement was so infuriating.
“Yeah, I’m on the cloud nine. Let’s start.”
Spike tentatively kissed Buffy’s nipple and cast a sidelong look at Acathla. The stone statue seemed vaguely disapproving of them burning the incense, spilling smelly powder and doing naughty things in The Initiative quarters.
“Angelina?” Buffy whispered. “I feel so weird… What if I can’t… well… come up to your expectations?”
“Shhhh… don’t overthink it, just relax.”
“No, seriously. Two bodies becoming one is a euphemism for orgasm. What if I won’t…”
“You will. Just trust me, OK? It’s not like you’ve never been with a girl before. Andrew told me you had the hots for one of your Slayerettes.”
“It’s not…” Buffy clenched her fists. “You don’t understand. It’s not about gender. It’s… I thought I could move on. But as soon as I got back to Sunnydale, all my memories rushed back.” She smiled nostalgically. “Memories of a man I loved and lost. He was amazing. Generous. Sweet…”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Angel’s as sweet as a picked cucumber and as generous as the next serial killer…”
“He’s so not! And, FYI, I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking…” Buffy glared at her companion’s guilty and hopeful face and gulped. “Talking about… Spike?!”
He covered his nose.
Several interminable moments Buffy looked him in the eye. Then she claimed his mouth with a hard, brutal kiss, and he fell to the ground, assailed by her lips and hands.
“You really are him,” she whispered between kisses. “Bastard! I cried my eyes out! I thought I lost you forever! And you were afraid to see me only because you came back as a girl! Newsflash, Spike – there is nothing wrong with being a girl! I love you, dummy, and I’m happy with any Spike I’m lucky to get.”
“Um, luv… Actually, I came back as a guy.”
“Thought you deserve a better life,” he murmured, miserable.
“How could you do that to me? Nasty bloodsucker. Now I know where your shiny new name comes from. Angelina as in ‘Angel-lite’.”
“Bollocks!” He sighed. “You’re right, Slayer. I’m a moron. Stake me.”
“Come on, Spike. Grow a pair.” She chuckled despite herself. “I mean – metaphorically.”
“If I could do anything to make up for it…”
“Hmmm… I like your approach. The lack of a cock makes your blood rush in the direction of your brain, my dear Angelina”.
Buffy closed his mouth with a kiss.
“…Sorry, sweetie,” she whispered, when she broke away to catch breath. “I can’t bring myself to call you Spike when you’re… ahem… spikeless…”
“You will pay for your words, Slayer,” he purred with a sinister smirk. “You’ll be whimpering and begging for mercy.”
…She didn’t notice when it became so hot in the room. Spike was feasting on her with his tongue, and she was rising on the tide of pleasure… falling… rising again…
He did something with his evil tongue, and the heat wave swept her over, and rapture inundated her whole being, and the universe span…
…Buffy caught a glimpse of Acathla staggering and crumbling. The next moment a powerful vortex engulfed them, hurled between dimensions and threw them, flushed and naked, right in the middle of the hall in the castle, where they were met with incredulous stares.
“Oh, my eye!” Xander exclaimed and turned away.
Willow hastily magicked two sheets and tossed them to Buffy. “Consider it a prelude to a big celebratory shopping spree.”
“So – we stopped the apocalypse?”
“I checked my magic radar – the Antarctic portal has closed.” Willow grinned. “You always come through, Buffy Summers. You even got your man back.”
Buffy looked at her companion and smiled. “Hey, you’re Spike.”
“I mean – you’re a man again. With all the appropriate danglies.”
“Thank God.” Spike tentatively touched his cock under the sheet. It felt so good, to have it back.
“Spike, stop it!” Buffy hissed. “Or I’ll ask Will to turn you back into a girl.”
He shuddered. “I hate magic.”
Buffy raised her hand with a gem of Amarah and smirked. “Then I’d better send this shiny bauble to Angel. Right, sweetie?”
“I’m so happy Spike’s back,” Dawn said. “Now Buffy has somebody to torture, besides me.”
“You’ve brought Spike from 1998?!” Giles exclaimed. “It’s the most reckless and irresponsible act you ever did! Yes, I know that you missed him all that time. You always said that you’d do anything to bring him back. But you have created a temporal paradox!”
“Actually, the paradox was invented by ignorant scriptwriters,” Xander said. “In reality, each time-travel creates a new timeline. We existed in the Spikeless timeline and now we entered a Spikeful one. This Spikeful timeline is our present…”
“We always existed in the Spikeful timeline,” Andrew said. “I’ll explain everything. Just promise not to kill me.”
From Andrew Wells’ diary:
“July, 12, 1998. That idiot Tucker bragged all day about nicking the surveillance feed from that creepy circus freak show under the student campus. Like anybody cares. The tapes he showed me are so lame – briefings, debriefings and other kinds of blah. The only cool tape is two girls doing the naughty in front of an ugly statue. Totally droolworthy footage, especially the girl on top. I can’t see her face clearly, but her ass is to die for. She’s sexier than William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy and Jonathan Frakes put together.
Who said I’m gay?”
Orignally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/417477.html