All About Spike - Print Version
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By Ozfan

Written after the events of Lies My Parents Told Me
Rated R (so far, we’ll get to the good stuff in a bit)
S/B, silly. Not very serious, but then, my stuff never really is. I'm in it for the fun, baby.

Chapter 1

She caught up with him right after she left Wood. He was walking in long, angry strides toward the cemetery. She called his name but he ignored her. She tried again.

“Spike! Wait up, goddammit!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Spike sighed and turned, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He smiled cruelly. She saw his lip curl up in the darkness. “What is it?”

What is it? Are you kidding me? What the hell happened back there?”

“Ask your boss.” Spike turned and kept walking. Buffy grabbed his arm.

“He could barely talk after what you did to him.” She stared up at him, then touched the bruise on his cheek. “But I guess he got in a few, huh.”

“Yeah.” He jerked his face away from her fingers, his eyes distant and cool.

“Tell me what happened,” Buffy said evenly. Spike thought for a moment.

“Nah,” he said finally. “Not in the mood for chit-chat, pet. Some other time.” He turned and started to walk off.

And then he was looking up at the sky, his back hitting the ground hard after Buffy kicked his legs out from under him. There she was, standing over him, fists clenched. “Don’t you walk away from me,” she hissed.

Spike leapt up with a low, angry growl. “I’m not your punchin’ bag, Slayer. Not anymore. You’d be wise to remember that.”

“You’d be wise to quit being such an asshole, buddy!” she shouted.

“I was set up tonight! I was almost bloody killed, and the first evil fucked with my head, but now it’s all deactivated and I’m tired of the lot of you.”

“Excuse me, but being deactivated is, like, a good thing. So why are you treating me like I tried to kill you? I ran over there because I knew what Wood was going to do, and I was worried.”

“Worried you’d lose a good fighter. Right. Got that.”

“You know that’s not all there is to it.”

“No, I don’t know,” Spike bit out. “More to the point, I don’t care.”

Buffy glared up at him. “Fine!” she snapped, then turned and huffed off. Spike watched her perfect little ass move as she retreated away from him. He knew he had no business staring at her ass at this heated, angsty, moment, but it was bloody impossible not to.

“Hey!” he shouted with enough volume to wake up the dead. Buffy stopped but didn’t turn around.

Spike sighed. “I’m sorry,” he called out. “I should’ve known you weren’t in on it.”

That made her turn. “You thought I was in on it?” Her face was livid with anger and indignation.

He shrugged. “Didn’t know what to think. You talked me into lettin’ the principal babysit me tonight, next thing you know he’s inviting my demon out for a dance.”

“You big jackass,” Buffy said, marching back to him. “I wouldn’t help Wood kill you. If anyone gets to kill you around here, it’s going to be me. Got it?”

Damn her and her angry little pout. Resistance was futile. He nodded. “Got it.”

They stood a foot apart, their eyes locked. Around them, the night was quiet.

“I can’t go back to the house. Not now. Too worked up,” he finally said.

“Okay. I have to get back and check on Dawn.”



Neither of them moved.

After what felt like the longest staring contest in history, Spike took a breath, and Buffy stepped forward and kissed him on his mouth. A brief, short kiss, and when she pulled back, there was a warmth in her eyes that almost started his heart.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” she said quietly, then turned and ran.

Spike stood frozen to the spot until his legs remembered how to work again. He walked around for a while and then realized he was standing outside the Summers home.

He was seriously angry now. He was through with being the First’s bitch, through with being everyone’s whipping boy, and had decided to give serious thought and significant effort into falling out of love with Buffy, and then she had to go kiss him on his lips and look up at him with those big eyes of hers and his resolve exploded into thin air like vamp dust.

“Bullocks,” he swore, staring up at her bedroom window. And then he was climbing easily up to the window. He poked his head in and begin pushing himself the rest of the way through when he heard her voice at the door.

“I think you’ve taught me all I need to know.” He heard a door close. Spike stayed there, his ass hanging out of the window for all of Sunnydale to see and enjoy, wondering what to do now.

“Come all the way in, Spike,” Buffy said, her back still to him, not even having to turn to know he was there.

“No fair. I’m the one with keen vamp senses,” Spike said indignantly, only to have his foot catch on the windowsill, causing him to land ungraciously on his head.

“Ow.” Spike rubbed his noggin, then stared at Buffy, who was staring at the door.

“What was all that about then?” he said. Buffy turned to look at Spike, and her eyes were sad.

“Giles is dead to me.” When Spike gave her a disbelieving look she crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay, maybe not dead to me, but I am seriously annoyed with him. Conspiring with Wood behind my back. He thinks I need to learn to make tough choices and not have you so close and blah blah repressed British crap blah blah.”

“He loves you. He’s worried about you. He don’t trust me, and why should he after everything, even with my shiny new soul?”

“Hey! Don’t go defending your attempted murderer. Or attempted accomplice to said murder… or something.” She sat down on the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes.

“Sorry, but Rupes loves you like a dad, is all. He wants to see you happy.”

“No time for happy. I don’t even know what that feels like anymore.” Her voice was tired, and Buffy leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes. Spike watched her.

“Tell me about the last time you were happy,” he said. “I mean, really happy.” He was leaning against the wall, arms resting on his knees, facing her bed. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She frowned, thinking. The silence stretched into minutes.

“I can’t remember,” she said simply.

No fair, love. You should be happy. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t make you happy. Sorry for a lot of things.” Spike swallowed and looked down at the rug.

“I know,” she said. Spike went to stand up.

“Don’t go. Just sit here with me for a bit. Please?”

Love’s bitch, that’s me, Spike thought. “Sure, why not? Nothing good on the telly.” He leaned back against the wall and watched her drift into sleep.

“I rezemba zumin,” she mumbled incoherently after a few minutes.

“Come again?”

“I remember… something,” she repeated. “Something happy.” Her words were tumbling out of her in a sleepy, altogether adorable, voice. “After Mom was better. We all went out to dinner. Me, Mom, Dawn. We got dressed up. We had drinks… even let Dawn have champagne. We came home and danced in the living room.”

Spike sat very still. Buffy hadn’t opened her eyes. She was curled up into her pillow, a small smile on her face.

“We spun around, the three of us. We just danced and laughed… and I was so full of hope. I knew everything was going to be all right.”

Spike sat there, waiting for more, wanting to hear more, but she had finally fallen asleep. He sat and watched over her.

“Everything is going to be all right,” he said quietly, almost a whisper, even though she couldn’t hear. Even though he wasn't sure he was right.

Spuffy fluff! Spuffy fluff! Sing it with me now!

Chapter 2

How in the hell Spike managed to fall asleep on the itchy rug in Buffy’s bedroom was beyond him. Stranger still was the fact that when he woke Buffy was asleep on the floor wrapped up next to him. The room was still and dark, the floor was uncomfortable, and sunrise wasn’t too far off. He could sense its approach, the strange itch of a warning that his skin felt. He sat up slowly, trying to pull his arm out from under Buffy’s head.

“Hey,” she protested, grabbing his arm, still half asleep.

“What the hell are you doing asleep on your bedroom floor?” he whispered.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she whispered back, very groggily. “You wouldn’t come up, so I came down.”

It was all coming back to him. She had woken him shortly after he dozed off, prodding him on the shoulder, telling him she was having bad dreams and could he just join her on the bed and she swore she wouldn’t try anything funny? Spike had tried to be gracious and declined as gallantly as he could, what with a raging hard-on and all. He told her to go back to bed, she was probably talking in her sleep, and that’s when she grabbed a cover and plopped down on the floor next to him, curling into him like a little fluffy bunny.

Said fluffy bunny’s pert backside was pressed up against him and his back was literally up against the wall. He tried to move away without disturbing her.

“Quit squirming and go back to sleep,” Buffy whispered. Just then the bedroom door squeaked open and they both froze.

“Buffy?” came Dawn’s voice.

Long pause. Finally Buffy sat up.


A light from down the hall threw shadows through the room. Dawn peered into the darkness and saw her sister’s head. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Hmm. Interesting question,” Buffy said, trying to sound normal. Spike was crawling past her trying to get under the bed. “My back. Was killing me. From all the, um, slaying I’ve been up to.”

Dawn entered the room and sat on the bed.

“I can’t sleep.”

Spike was now fully hidden under the bed. “Is your head okay?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Is everything okay with you? I heard you and Giles… I thought I heard you arguing.”

Buffy sighed. “Not okay. But not the end of the world. He just did something pretty lame and it made me mad.”

“Okay, as long as you’re okay.”

Spike listened to all this from underneath the bed. Staying still was hard for him, but somehow he managed.

“I’m okay.” Buffy got up off the floor sat down on the bed next to her sister. “I’ve got good news and weird news for you. Which do you want first?”

“Um, the good, please,” Dawn replied.

“Okay. Good news. Spike has been deactivated. The trigger doesn’t work anymore.”

Spike raised his eyebrows.

“Cool,” Dawn said. “It wasn’t the safest feeling, having him around when any minute he might go vamp-postal and start killing at random. Except if it was Kennedy. She really bugs the hell out of me. Today she yelled at me for leaving dishes in the sink. I really wish that bee-otch would stop being so bossy.”

Spike tried not to laugh out loud at that.

“Now what’s the weird news?” Dawn said.

“Spike is under the bed.”

There was a long, awkward pause. Suddenly Spike heard the bed creak, and then he saw Dawn’s hair touch the ground, followed by Dawn’s upside down head coming into view.

“Hey, Spike.”

“Uh, hey, Dawn.”

“Is there any particular reason why you’re under Buffy’s bed?”

“Not a valid one, no.”

Spike slid out from underneath it and Dawn helped him stand up. Buffy was sitting on the bed with a mischievous grin on her face. Spike shot her an angry look, then turned toward Dawn. “We weren’t doing anything, you know. Just sleepin’.”

Dawn held up her hands. “Hey, none of my business. Really don’t need to hear the details. So how did you get deactivated anyway?”

Spike glanced at Buffy. Buffy glanced at Spike.

“Long, boring story.”

“Like all your stories?” Dawn said, but with a joking tone.

“Watch it or I’ll hit you with another piece of furniture,” he replied sternly.

“Oooh, scary. Grrrr.” Dawn made a face at Spike and Spike made a face at her and Buffy just smiled. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You can stay here, Dawn, if you want,” Buffy suggested. Dawn raised her eyebrows and looked at the two of them in shock.

“Ew! No thanks. Just keep it down in here, okay?” She turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Spike put his hands in his pockets and just shook his head, confused. “This,” he said, “has been a very, very strange day.”

“Even for Sunnydale standards,” Buffy agreed. She was sitting on the bed, feet on floor, watching him. Spike had the very distinct feeling that he had no bloody idea what to do next.

“C’mere,” Buffy said. Spike stepped forward so that he was standing right in front of her. Buffy put her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight, her face pressed against the flat of his stomach. It was so unexpected, so odd. Spike could not remember being hugged by her, ever. It was extremely strange and… well, nice. He put his arms around her shoulders.

“Sun’ll be up soon,” he said. He touched her hair, hesitantly. When she didn’t pull away it away he pushed the hair away from her face and just played with it. She made a “mmmm” sound, which made him absurdly happy for some reason.

“Then close the blinds tight,” she whispered. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and closed the blinds. She moved over to make a space for him on the bed. He didn’t hesitate, just kicked off his shoes, took off his jeans, and climbed in next to her. She fit perfectly in his arms and pressed her face into his neck, sighing with contentment. He stared up at the ceiling, pulling her close to him. All things considered, things were all right. This bed was bigger and more comfy than the cot in the basement, he was holding the woman he loved beyond measure, Dawn was starting to warm up to him again, and there were no pesky slayer brats in training in the room with them. He figured this was as good as it got for him and his sorry little unlife, until a few minutes later, when Buffy moved her hand down to touch his still raging hard-on.

Oh, Christ.

Yeah, things just got a lot better.

Chapter 3

Spike really had no intention of this happening. Really. He just took his bloody pants off because jeans were uncomfortable to sleep in. He almost pulled away but Buffy’s hand wasn’t letting him go anywhere.

“So hard,” she murmured, almost in awe.

Her hand felt so fucking good and he was too stunned to think. Luckily, his hand decided to think on its own and his fingers slipped beneath her panties.

“So wet,” he said in return, a low, harsh whisper. Buffy arched into his touch.

“You betcha,” she said, followed by a “guuhgh” sound when his fingers went further in her, then slid slowly out. Like a dream, it was, except for the clarity of feeling. Her scent. The whisper of the sheet beneath them when he moved. The heat of her hand on him, moving on him expertly, not tentatively, just the way he loved it (needed it). The heat and slick moisture of her coating his fingers. Her little sounds she was making that made him almost come in her hand.

“Why me?” he said, his voice confused, even as his fingers touched her delicately, circling her clit as she moaned. Buffy’s eyes opened then. He shifted so that he was staring down at her. She was breathing like she had just run a marathon, which pleased Spike immensely.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she whispered as her fingers slowly teased the tip of his penis.

“If I weren’t such an awful poet I could try and put it into words,” he sighed. God, she was hot underneath him. He removed her panties with his teeth, kissed her from her toes up to her thigh, then rested his head on her belly, kissing her soft skin, just enjoying the smell of her.

“Actions, louder than words, remember that,” she murmured, spreading her legs to welcome him.

“Good point,” he replied, and began to lick her. She clamped her own hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Spike pushed her legs wider apart and tasted her, flicking his tongue across her swollen clit, drinking her in. He felt her hands on his head, pressing her into him, and quickly, so quickly, he felt her entire body freeze up before she stilled, and then she was coming, on his tongue, and he lapped it up, wanting her to feel good, wanting to make her happy, just for a moment.

Finally, he raised his head to look up at her. Her eyes were still closed tightly and she was trying to catch her breath and she looked so damned beautiful that he wanted to cry. Except that would be ridiculous and unflattering to his bad-ass image so he grinned cheekily instead.

“You alright, pet?”

She nodded, barely. Spike moved up and covered her heart with his hand, reveling in the feel of it pounding beneath his palm. I made it do that, he thought. She opened her eyes and studied him.

“I think you liquefied my bones,” she whispered, touching his cheek.

“I remember the feelin,” he said. Then he kissed her, their first real kiss in forever, and he could not get enough, kissed her deeply, and she clung to him and he figured if he was dreaming he did not want to ever, ever wake up.

Their mouths were fused and would not part, even as the tip of his cock found its way home, inside her, slowly entering her, even as she moaned his name against his mouth, he could not break the kiss. He felt her nails dig sharply in his back, her feet on his ass pushing him further into her.

Oh, the soul… the soul threatened to split inside him, it hurt, hurt to feel this good, to love this much. He broke the kiss and stared down at her in disbelief, still rocking into her. Her eyes were wide and clear as she rose to meet him. Stunned, he tried to form words, tried to make her understand the difference. How it felt now. She nodded, seemed to understand. She was slick and sweet and so tight around him but that pleasure was nothing compared to what it was like for him to see her this way, now, smiling up at him, her heart in her eyes, his soul in his. He slowed down, just watching her, not wanting it to end. He felt, for the first time, complete. Whole.

He came then, crying into her neck as he shuddered his release. He felt her kisses, felt her strength as she held him.

“Buffy,” he whispered. “Oh, love.”

“That’s me,” she said.

“You sound happy,” he said, shifting off her. It hurt to leave her. She turned and looked at his face. He could see her, so clearly now.

“I am. Really, really am.” He traced a line from her chin down to her belly then back again, studying her body. He kissed her shoulder, very softly.

“Not right to feel this good when the world’s about to end,” she sighed.

“Nah. Sex, affirmation of life, all that. It’s our big ‘Fuck Off’ to the First,” Spike decided.

“Love the way you think,” she murmured.

“Let’s tell it to fuck off again, then.”

“Not right now. And don’t pout at me like that. Let me rest a minute.”

“Not pouting!”

“Aren’t you even a little tired?”

“I’m a sex-starved creature of the night, pet. Not sleepy at all. S’okay though. You go to sleep.” He held her close and felt her soft breath on his chest and tried not to smile too much.

Spike fell asleep first, about one minute later, Buffy soon behind him. Just tangled up in each other, uninterrupted by sunrise. Not a bad way to begin a new day.

The End