"Yep, any second now," Spike drawled to himself as he lifted a lit cigarette to his mouth. He sucked in hard, his lips curling around the thin stick as smoke filtered down into his two useless lungs. He held it for a minute before exhaling sharply, a cloud of smoke billowing out of his mouth and nose with it. "Any second now," he repeated just as slowly, letting his arm drop back down to his lap.
Spike was sitting in his chair - his one and only chair at that - facing towards his crypt entrance, one leg comfortably hanging over the arm of it as he watched and waited. His back was to his telly, Passions done and over with more than a few hours ago and nothing else on worth flipping through. He brought his hand back up to his mouth, lazily taking another drag. The Slayer was gonna kick open his door, any second now. He could feel it, could feel her. She was swimming in his bones, whispering in his ear, dancing behind closed eyelids. That voice and that presence. He could feel her near, his skin tingling with anticipation. Could sense her as the hairs lining his neck stood on end. Could anticipate her like she was the impending sunrise - a sensory overdrive as both his hearing and sense of smell picked up. He could feel her each time he breathed in to smoke, his chest tightening with each inhale.
That, and he could actually hear her out there. Just outside his crypt door, matter of fact. Ten bloody minutes she'd been out there, pacing back and forth from the sound of it, talking to herself all the while. The fact that she had to talk herself into coming inside the Big Bad's crypt was rather touching.
He heard her sigh loudly and the countdown in his head began.
Ten, nine.
Buffy wasn't just going to casually walk into his crypt or, shock of all shocks, knock. She was going to make with the grand entrances, the bloody declarations that immediately put each in their respective place. Slayer: her. Vampire: him, incase he had maybe forgotten since the last time she'd reminded him.
Eight, seven, six.
He could hear her start to back up a little, her shoes - no doubt some fancy, overpriced pair of boots she'd be bitching about wearing later - crunched on the dead grass outside his crypt with her movement.
Five, four.
Slayer muscles were most definitely being put into use now, he figured, as he perfectly visualized her lifting her leg up to strike its intended target. That target being his crypt door. Her heartbeat picked up in speed, as Spike sucked in.
Three.
"Two, one" he finished out loud, perfectly timed as his crypt door flew open, it beating hard against the wall as Buffy strolled through.
He narrowed his eyes at her, an attempt at casual, as she stomped her way over to him with hard, deliberate steps that echoed throughout his quiet home.
"Slayer," he greeted coolly. "How nice of you to knock. Oh wait, never mind - that wasn't you that knocked. That was you that kicked through my door."
"Get up," she ordered. Just like that. No 'Please, Spike', no explanation, not even a little begging - just a straight out demand that was heavily weighted with the implicated threat of an ass kicking if he didn't immediately jump up and obey.
Like hell that was gonna happen.
With just the right amount of boredom and exaggeration, he leaned back, taking another slow drag on his cigarette. He let the smoke rest in his mouth before it trickled down his throat, it stirring around in his lungs before he made any effort to move his hand away. So, they were skipping the small talk, then? Figures. "Kinda busy," he told her evenly, the smoke pouring back out of his mouth.
Those two little words of defiance, and the Slayer tensed. She folded her hands across her chest, her eyes tearing into him in that judgmental way that they did as she tilted her head to the side. "You're sitting in your chair, smoking. Not really seeing where 'busy' comes into play."
He shrugged about as casually as one vampire with a brassed off Slayer armed with a pocketed stake in front of him could. The cigarette got raised to his mouth again, while his eyes landed on hers. "That's what I meant. I'm busy smoking. It's very time consuming, Slayer." He breathed in for another drag, in show of just how busy he was.
She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth forming a straight line.
Great, the signal that was the start of his ass kicking - the frown. Too bloody typical. As always - first, she busts through his door, all hair-blowing-in-the-wind look as she cuts across the crypt over to him. Next would be a demand of some sort. 'Get up, Spike' (as heard tonight), or 'What do you know?'. He'd do pretty much what he was doing now: stare at her like she'd completely lost it. He was the Big Bad, and he'd do damn well what he pleased, or what he not pleased, as the case may be. And he wasn't her bloody narc, there to help her purify the world of evil and ready to be used for her every needing Chosen One way, either. At his noncompliance, her lips would form into a thin line (like so), her eyes practically wielding tiny stakes of hatred in his general direction. Her fists would clench by her side, wavering there as she fought to stay calm. Spike would inevitably say something, and that something would be exactly what she waiting for, and then bam - like clockwork - tiny Slayer fists connecting with his nose.
Bitch.
He narrowed his eyes at her, exhaling slowly. It was a dare. A 'gimme your best, Slayer'. And she knew it because her eyes flickered of something other than anger and annoyance for just a second.
He brought the cigarette to his lips again, smiling defiantly at her--
Buffy lunged forward, snatching the cigarette out of his hand before he had time to register exactly what it was she was doing. She jumped back and (ignoring Spike's initial reaction, which was to curl into a ball -- of sodding self-preservation! He had no clue if a stake figured into her out-of-nowhere attack, and he'd rather be safe than a pile of a dust) he froze, feeling a good lack of nicotine addiction between his fingers.
And then realization hit as the Slayer stood there, smiling all smugly and looking entirely too proud of herself for his liking.
"Bloody hell!" he yelled, embarrassment at curling up like some sodding fledgling instantly forgotten. His leg dropped from the side of the chair as he jumped to his feet. He came to a stop in front of her, coat billowing dramatically at his quick halt, his chest rising and falling with all the effort of the heavy not-breathing he was doing. His voice dropped down a few menacing degrees, and he inched another step closer. "Give it back."
Kicking into his crypt was one thing. Telling him to do something in that self-righteous tone of hers like he was her bleeding dog - like he was Xander - fine. But taking his bloody cigarette while he held the thing to his lips? His last bleeding cigarette? The cigarette he'd slowly been enjoying since he found out it was the last sodding one? He didn't care how nice she smelt, with that soft vanilla scent that consumed his every sense each time she flung her hair behind her shoulders. He didn't care how good she looked in those tight little jeans, or how well that shirt fit her, hugging her in all the right spots, lowered in all the right ways, revealing just enough skin that it aroused both the demon and man within. Didn't care the way it hung against her curves, outlining her body in a silhouette of shadowed fabric...
Buffy moved herself closer, settling herself right up into his personal space. She brought his cigarette up, holding it between them in threat as her eyes widened. Her very own dare. Her 'just give me a reason to kick your ass, Spike'. He saw it for what it was and wasn't entirely stupid enough to provoke her more. Not that he wouldn't mind a little skin-to-skin action, but when it'd be her fists meeting his face? Chip going off at the first thought of retaliation? He'd rather just get it from her without conflict and go back to his pleasant evening of doing nothing.
"C'mon, that's my last one," he reasoned calmly, staring helplessly as Buffy carelessly held it between her fingers, it burning slowly between them, all going to waste.
"If you would just stop being a pain in the ass for two seconds, and listen to me."
"Standing up now, aren't I?" he countered, his voice tight as he took a step closer to her, putting him in her personal space. Sod the 'without conflict' approach. He wanted the thing back now. It wasn't even so much about the cigarette anymore. It was about her taking what belonged to him - taking it right out of his sodding hands. It was about power, and right now, she held that power in between two fingers.
Buffy stared at him for a second longer, their eyes locked together, before she looked down at the cigarette. Disgust blanketed her face before she sighed. With one last cute show of an eye roll, she gave in, shoving her hand towards him as she offered him back what she so wrongfully took.
He plucked it from her fingers with a glare. Immediately taking a victory drag, he shuffled backwards, limply falling back down into his chair.
Apparently not the desired result the Slayer was expecting.
"What?!" she cried out, grabbing his arm. "No, no, no. You got the cigarette back, you're helping me out." She effortlessly pulled him back up onto his feet, the warmth of her hand on his arm sending waves of pleasure along the length of it before she dropped it.
"Sod off," he growled, glaring at her. Bitch. Who'd she think she was, always ordering him around?
"C'mon, we had a deal."
Spike snorted dismissively at that. She was serious? If the wide eyed plea she was shooting him was any indication, then, yeah - apparently so. What deal did they have? There was the part where she let herself into his crypt, all without so much as a courteous knock. There was the immediate demand of his helping her. The part where she took his cigarette. Yeah, those things he remembered. A deal? In what bloody language did her wordlessly handing him back his cigarette count as a deal?
Guess he'd have to enlighten her, then.
"First off," he started, raising a finger for emphasis.
"First off?" Buffy mimicked, snickering just a bit.
"First off," Spike repeated just as flatly, shooting her an annoyed glare as he brought his hand in front of him. Completely undeterred, he continued. "It was my cigarette to begin with. You bitchily took it from me--"
"Bitchily?" she interrupted, all dainty and woe-is-me. "You bitchily sat there smoking it, all with the dramatic inhales, the loud smoky exhales!"
Spike ignored her petty outburst, raising another finger. "Second of all, there was no deal."
"Oh, there so was."
"Shall I reenact it for you?" he shot back sarcastically. "You took it from me, I overpowered you with my Big Badness, you gave it back. End of story. No deal was ever voiced. And third of all." The third finger shot up, with an added twitch of his shoulder in the general direction of his crypt entrance. "You kicked my door."
Buffy stared blankly at him, then at the door. "I always kick your door."
"Oh, right. Sorry. Carry on then, with the breaking my door down every time you bleeding feel like it. I wouldn't wanna break routine for you."
Buffy said nothing, instead shot him one of those patented Slayer glares. The kind that meant she had no retort but was too high-and-mighty to just admit that he was right. The enjoyable kind, that mostly just amused him. She wheeled around, her blonde curls bouncing along angrily-- a wave of vanilla immediately washed over him as she stomped towards his door. He watched her as she went, feeling a bit of male pride at the way he completely dominated the situation. Bitch thought she'd come in, order him around, take his last cigarette? Like hell. She stopped when she got to his crypt entrance, pausing with her hand on the door. Then there was the deep, calming breath. The second she gave herself to balk. And then, with a tight smile, she turned back around.
"You coming?" she asked, her voice free of all that previously broadcasted anger.
Spike paused, staring hard at her as he thought things through. Option the first: stay home and watch some sorry sight of a TV show on his sad little black and white telly. Admittedly, not much fun, despite the appeal of late-night TV. The second, less pathetic option (give or take your point-of-view)? Tagging along with the Slayer and therefore getting to piss her off. Personally, that one sounded a bit better. Just to be completely sure, he further ran his two options through: Sitting here with only himself to keep company, thinking of all the things he could be out killing? Again, not fun. But being out there with the actual killing? While getting to piss off the Slayer? The Slayer who most definitely didn't at all turn him on when she crossed her arms in annoyance across her chest like that?
Patrol, it is.
Casually, he met her eyes. "Got nothing else to do." He shrugged, tossing his cigarette to the floor. He stepped on it with the heel of his boot before he followed her.
"What the hell," he heard her call out. He looked up to see what had her annoyed all of a sudden, then looked around his crypt, hoping to spot (and maybe congratulate) the source of it.
"What?" he asked, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Turned off telly, empty bottle of Jack Daniels lying on the ground by his sarcophagus, few drained packets of blood he'd tossed and left near his fridge earlier - nothing that would prompt that pissy tone of hers.
"You bitch like a drama queen about that stupid cigarette, and then when I give the thing back to you - you throw it on the floor?"
Spike looked down, seeing the cigarette in question laying there looking like a lost little soldier killed in a great battle, crushed from the weight of his heavy black boot. Not seeing the big need to bitch about it, he shrugged his shoulders, frowning slightly. "Yeah. What of it?"
"Again I say, what the hell?"
Spike smirked. There was only one thing to say in response, really. Would kick in old, pleasant memories and simultaneously brass her off. So, in the most casual of tones, with the most impartial shrug he could muster, he told her, "Tasted like Buffy fingers."
On cue, her face paled. A second passed between them before she threw out the line he was so patiently waiting for. "You're a pig, Spike."
Typical Buffy saying the First. How very... well, typical. He was pretty sure she had a list of 'you're a pig, Spike''s, all in different tones and varying degrees of seething hatred, just waiting to be used on him.
She raised her hand, flipping small golden curls over her shoulder as she shot him an annoyed look. And then with a move he knew she'd practiced many’a time before, she wheeled around, stalking off. "Come on, we don't have all night," he heard her mutter as she faded into the darkness.
Spike looked back down at the empty bottle of Jack Daniels, wishing like hell the thing still had some small drop of alcohol left in it, any little bit at all, before he followed after her. Was gonna be a long bloody night, he could feel it.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!