#got hit over the head almost as much as Giles

[hurtcomfortguaranteed]

In Angel 5x05, Lorne has his sleep removed in order to manage his workload, and the deprivation causes his psychic powers to go haywire. In the aftermath, Angel makes sure Lorne gets a good nights rest!

[herenya-writes]

To Kneel at Your Feet

So, uh, I tried my hand at a little Dreamling fic when a particular image wouldn't get out of my head.

~1850 words, Rated T (violence, non-graphic injuries, a bit of foul langauge), pre-relationship Dreamling set a few months after Dream escapes the fishbowl but before he's told Hob who he is

When a shadow fell over him, Hob figured he was fucked. Well, even more fucked than he already had been.

The day had started pretty normal. Term was over for the summer, and he had finally finished the last of the marking the night before, so he had let himself laze in the sunny patches of his bed until almost noon when the grumbling of his stomach drove him to the kitchen for food. The rest of the day had been syrupy slow, with a light frisson of anticipation running through. He was meeting his Stranger tomorrow morning for brunch, their first pre-evening meeting and the fifth one they had had since his Stranger had returned. So it was with a spring in his step that he had gone through the rest of the day, chatting with Mrs. Giles up the road about whether he could buy a few cases of her jam to serve at the Inn, taking a stroll around the park, mixing up a batch of scones. When Sasha called in sick, he had gladly picked up their shift bar-tending at the Inn, and even that had been lovely. A faster pace than the rest of his day, sure, but the night had been full of familiar faces and easy laughter.

He had been closing up the Inn and wiping down the last of the tables when the bell above the door rang. He didn’t get out so much as a word before the bullets were flying.

He managed to dodge them for a good while, but even his immortal body got tired of crouching and diving eventually. Plus, there were three of them, all armed, and only one of him. He had a bat and an array of knives behind the bar and an assortment of weapons in his flat above, but he didn’t see how he could get to either of those places unscathed. He’d survive, of course, but that could cause even more problems depending on how smart these thugs were.

His next dodge had been a bit too slow, and as he slid behind the sturdy oak of one of the booths a bullet buried itself in his shoulder. He snarled at the pain and pressed a hand to the wound on instinct. His immortality meant he’d survive no matter how many times these assholes shot him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the bite of metal burrowing into his flesh.

It was as he was leaning against the wood, listening for footsteps and considering his options that a shape blocked the light above him. He swore and held up an arm to guard his face on instinct, but when he looked up it wasn’t one of the thugs he saw.

In the muted light of the Inn, his Stranger stood, clothed as always in his black coat, jeans, and boots, a minuscule frown pulling at his lips.

Without thinking, Hob grabbed the hem of his Stranger’s coat and yanked him down. His Stranger went, and a millisecond later bullets soared through the air where he had been standing.

“Sorry, friend. You chose a dangerous time to stop by,” he gasped. He had grabbed his Stranger with his left arm, and the bullet wound in his shoulder was protesting loudly.

His friend’s face took on a pinched expression, brows furrowing in a way that would have been adorable in another situation.

“You are injured,” he observed, his voice deep and rumbling like distant thunder. Hob could listen to that voice all day, and despite the circumstances he could feel his heartbeat slowing at just those three words. “You are not healing as you should.”

Hob blinked and looked down. Damn, his Stranger was right. One of the side effects of his immortality was that any injuries he sustained healed rapidly. Serious stuff like disembowelment still took a long (and excruciatingly painful) time to heal, but the process happened much faster for him than a normal human. He had been stabbed in a knife fight once in his second century of living and by the time the other fellow had hit the floor the only evidence of the wound had been the blood on his skin and the tear in his shirt. A bullet hole should have shown evidence of closing by now, but it was still gaping open and bleeding freely.

“At least I won’t have to cut the bullet out later,” he joked, but the tremble in his voice ruined his attempted levity.

“There are very few weapons in this world or another that could harm you so,” his Stranger declared, and something like lightning flashed in his eyes. His expression turned stone cold, and in a fluid movement he rose to his feet and turned toward the gunmen. Hob scrambled up after him, biting back curses, but he stopped short when he realized there weren’t any bullets flying through the air.

In the space of a blink, all the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and gather around his Stranger, and Hob swore he saw recognition begin to dawn on the face of the lead thug as his Stranger stepped forward and extended one pale arm.

“Servants of the Morningstar, by what edict do you walk the Earth and seek the life of one to whom Death has denied her gift?” His Stranger’s voice buzzed with barely-restrained power, and something deep in Hob’s human brain told him to run and hide. He stayed where he was, though, and so did the gunmen, even as they trembled in obvious fear.

“Dead or not, the glory of claiming an immortal’s head for Lucifer’s throne room is undying,” the one in the middle declared. Hob was almost impressed with how even their voice was.

“You have attacked him in his home, unarmed and unaware of your challenge. There is no glory here, hellspawn.” His Stranger spat the word ‘glory’ like it was vinegar on his tongue, and all three creatures (he had thought they were human, but now he could swear an outline of fire flickered around them) recoiled. Still, they didn’t flee.

“He is unclaimed, Dreamlord. Glory or not, he’s ours for the taking!”

The shadows in the room deepened impossibly, and the air pressure dropped fast enough that Hob’s ears popped and every hair stood on end. His Stranger took a menacing step forward, standing directly between him and the gunment now. When he spoke, the power in his voice shook the floorboards and set Hob’s very bones buzzing.

“Is that so? Allow me to correct that oversight.”

His Stranger threw back his coat, and it melted into a midnight black robe. The folds of the fabric were ablaze with swirling galaxies that seemed to spill into the shadows that surrounded him. The power radiating off him now was equal parts strange and familiar, like hearing a song for the first time but immediately knowing the chorus. Any unease Hob had felt settled at once, even as the gunmen began to quiver and keen in dismay. His Stranger spoke over their sounds of distress, his voice firm and unyielding. In that moment, Hob had no doubt that he could make any declaration and reality would bend itself to reflect his will.

“I, Dream of the Endless, Shaper of Forms, Oneiromancer, Prince of Stories, King of the Dreaming and Nightmare Realms, declare Hob Gadling to be under my protection. Harm him and know the unfettered wrath of the Dreaming.”

Hob had been a lot of things in the past 600-plus years. He’d tried his hand at just about everything that had held his attention for longer than a week, and he had even been decent at a fair chunk of it. Hell, he’d even been knighted once! Right now, he probably had enough wealth squirreled away in stashes across the world to keep him living comfortably for the next two hundred or so years. At his core, though, he was nothing more than a peasant.

His knee hit the floor before his Stranger even finished speaking, and he barely felt the way the movement shocked his still-bleeding shoulder. All he could do was gaze up at his Stranger, awe, in the oldest sense of the word, flooding him. Dream of the Endless. His Stranger had a name. His Stranger was a king.

He wasn’t sure what happened with the thugs after that. There was a moment when the Inn got so dark all he could see where the pinpoints of light in his Stranger’s eyes and the galaxies swirling in his robe, and the next the light had returned and his Stranger had turned that fathomless gaze on him.

He lowered his eyes. “My king.” His tongue was heaving in his mouth, and his throat was sand paper. There was a spit of crimson blood, his blood, on the hem of his Stranger’s robe.

“You would kneel and call me king? Even after the wrongs I have committed against you? I did not even grant you the courtesy of my name.” Power still rumbled in his Stranger’s voice, but it was leashed now in a way that sent a spark racing up Hob’s spine. God help him, but he had always loved a bit of danger.

He risked a glance up and saw his Stranger’s perfect lips twisted in a frown, his brows drawn together like Hob was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

“I don’t need anything from you that you aren’t ready to give, my friend. You came back to me, and that was more than I could ever hope for.” Those words strayed a bit too close to another truth—that he would have waited forever just for a glimpse of his Stranger’s face, just to hear a single word from his lips—but Hob wasn’t about to start lying now, not when this magnificent creature, this otherworldly lord, had deemed him worthy of his time and attention despite all odds. His Stranger had returned after over 100 years to sit in a pub and listen to Hob ramble about airplanes and smartphones and humanity reaching the moon. How could anything he had to say possibly have captured the attention of a king with no doubt a million other duties to attend to?

His Stranger regarded him, galaxies swirling in his black eyes to match the ones dancing across his robe. Hob tore his gaze back to the floor for fear of falling in.

“Rise. You owe me no servitude or obeisance, Hob Gadling.”

Hob wanted to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and did as his lord bid. He bit back a growl of pain as he stood, and in a blink his Stranger was there, long arms wrapped around his shoulders and holding him up with unnatural strength. Together, they hobbled up the stairs to his flat, and his Stranger laid him gently on the couch and let Hob grip his hand too tightly as he dug out the bullet lodged in his shoulder, seemingly uncaring of the way the crimson blood stained his pale fingers.

[darling-i-read-it]

Replacement

Rupert Giles x fem!reader, slight Wesley Wyndam-Pryce x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: younger reader (12 years younger than Giles but super legal ofc), btvs season 3 spoilers, jealousy/insecurity, drinking, light insinuation to smut 

Author’s Note: I know this is literally not on the list of things I was supposed to write and I’m going to get to the requests tomorrow I think but the fact there’s so little giles content makes me wanna DIE. anyway here’s this <3 watching buffy season 3 and feeling things for him. 

Summary: Set in season 3 when Buffy gets Wesley as the new Watcher. The reader, the assistant librarian and also Giles’ girlfriend, gets hit on a bit by Wesley and Giles gets protective™. 

Genre: mostly fluff! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“They’re sending in the new Watcher soon,” Rupert murmured. He was sitting on the couch in front of you. You could only see the back of his head but you could tell what kind of look he had on his face. Contempt, annoyance, some disappointment lacing his features. He had a glass in his hand, his arm over the back of the couch. He glanced back at you in the kitchen. “I fear I might be a tad unbearable for the next couple of days.” 

“You’re always unbearable,” you quipped, grabbing your own glass as you finished pouring it. “That's what I like about you.” 

You knew Giles was extremely worried about Buffy’s new Watcher. It had been the topic of conversation ever since Buffy’s test. It had also been a general point of contention; how could he let her go through that? Though now that he was being punished through various other means, you laid off on the argument. 

“Do you know who it is?” 

“No. They won’t tell me. Fear of my reproach I imagine.” He shook his head a bit. “I can’t believe they’re allowing someone else to come in after Gwendolyn Post.” You stayed silent. It was better to let him just talk through this himself, without any kind of argument or solace from you. “Buffy will never trust someone as she trusts me. Trusted me that is, I suppose. I never should have gone through with it. No, don’t say anything. I’m just conceding to your earlier point, I know.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Relax. The Watcher won’t be here tonight…” you put your hand on his arm. “So let’s not talk about him hm?” 

“You’re being suggestive. Is it because I conceded to your point?”

“One of the various reasons,” you explained. “Relax Rupert. I have no ulterior motives, I’m not a vampire, I’m not possessed. I’m just a girl in your house with some light alcoholic suggestion.” He nodded slowly. 

“You know, I don’t need that much convincing.” 

“I know.” You grabbed his drink and put it down on the coffee table. He admired you with an eyebrow raised until your phone rang. You groaned, picking it up beside the drinks. “It’s Buffy.” He let out a soft sigh. 

“Duty calls.” 

“Hey, it’s my phone. Maybe she just wants to gossip.” 

“Moments like these I remember we’re from slightly different generations.” You rolled your eyes and answered the phone. 

“12 years is not that many years. Hey Buffy.” 

“Arguing about your age difference again?” she said over the phone.

“Always. Ever the straight.” You kicked your legs up onto his lap. He grabbed his glass back from the table and took a drink. 

“I have said you have odd taste in men right?” 

“Once or twice. What can I do for you?” 

“Was gonna ask if you want to go to the Bronze with Willow and I before patrol. I fear this will be my last night Watcherless.” 

“Does she know I can hear her?” Giles questioned. You shrugged. 

“I would love to come but I think I’ve got my hands full over here. Men's feelings are hard.” 

“Tell me about it,” Buffy muttered. You could almost see her rolling her eyes over the neverending Angel ordeal. 

“You should go,” Giles said. “I’ll be fine.” “I made plans I don’t like to break,” you pouted. “Rain check Buff?”

“Sure thing.”

“Have fun.” 

“I would say you too but that brings awful images to my brain.”

-

You came into school a little bit late. You were working as library assistant, at Snyder’s hope to keep Giles the least destructive as possible. Giles woke up ungodly early and usually had several cups of coffee before you even saw him. 

You pushed open the doors to the library, holding your bag to your side. You slowed at the sight of a man you didn’t recognize by the check out desk. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to place the suit. Familiar, but foreign. The man turned around, revealing some glasses and an even looking face. 

“Good morning,” he said, just as evenly. 

“Good morning…” You craned your neck to look behind him, wondering if you had suddenly entered a world with a different librarian. 

“Are you here for the librarian? He’s out at the moment.” He stumbled over his words a bit, making you unsure of his dedication to the sentence. 

“Who are you?” He cleared his throat. 

“Wesley Wyndam-Pryce.” He offered his hand. You shook it, warily. 

“Wesley Wy-” You paused and thinned your lips. Maybe it was the British accent that gave him away or maybe it was the suit. “Are you the new Watcher?” His eyebrows raised. 

“I take it you know about the slayer” You shook your head. 

“Just a tad. I swear I’m not a threat, just a friend. Y/N.” He nodded once, looking you over. 

“What kind of friend?” You scoffed a bit. 

“You Watcher’s have a type,” you observed. 

“Hm?” 

“Where’s Rupert?” 

“Out.” 

“What was it? Westley?”

“Wesley. Wyndam-Pryce.” You nodded, pointing a finger at him. He smiled shakily, looking down. You opened your mouth to speak when the door opened again. 

“Oh man. You’ve met the new Watcher,” Buffy observed. Wesley straightened up and cleared his throat. “Getting along?” “Well,” he observed. Buffy raised an eyebrow at his stiffness and then glanced back at you. “I wonder if the Watcher’s have a book that says what kind of girl they’re allowed to go for. Maybe Giles just stuck a picture of you somewhere and this guy read it wrong.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Do you know where Rupert is?” 

“Nope. He’s not my Watcher anymore, remember?” she said, defeated. She passed you further into the room. You put a hand up in defeat. 

“He could be dying and none of us would know.” 

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Wesley promised. “Are you and Rupert…” 

“Yeah,” you said curtly. As if on cue, Giles walked into the room, holding a stack of books, looking completely in his natural habitat. “Thank God. Giles.” He halted when he caught sight of the two of you. 

“You met the replacement.” 

“I did. He’s a little stiff.” You squeezed his bicep. He watched you do it. “I was looking for you.” 

“Is everything alright?” He put the books down on the counter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just wasn’t sure where you had run off to and I like keeping tabs.” 

“That’s unhealthy,” Buffy noted. 

“Your boyfriend is dead,” Giles retorted. She shrugged with a point taken look on her face. You turned back to him. Wesley gave a once over at the two of you. Giles had put a hand on your upper arm, a gesture that was familiar to the two of you. You took the top book off his stack. 

“Whatcha reading?”

“You’re miraculously calm.” 

“One of us has to be.” You took the book and walked over to sit beside Buffy. She was eyeing the new Watcher intensely, like the whole world could come down at her mere gaze. Knowing her, you wouldn’t be surprised. 

“He’s gonna say something stupid,” she muttered. 

“Hm?” you asked. Wesley was looking at Giles. 

“Don’t you think she’s a bit on the younger side for you?” 

Silence went over the room as the words seemed to hang in the air. Giles stared bullets into his former colleague. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern,” he said coldly. 

“She looks closer to the slayer's age. My age. I have every right to ask, as a proceeding member of the council and part of the investigation towards your extermination.” Giles took a step forward, too close. You were suddenly reminded of the ‘not so booksmart’ person he used to be, the one who would throw a punch before working with words. You stood back up. 

“Keep her out of your mouth or so help m-”

“Alright,” you intervened. You stepped between the two of them. “I’m only 12 years younger but you flatter me. Giles, a moment?” You grabbed Rupert’s arm, gently pulling him in the direction towards his office. It took him a moment, not wanting to digress from the standoff. Eventually he followed. 

“Don’t leave me here all by my lonesome with this guy,” Buffy pleaded. 

“Vetoing your contribution here slayer,” you called back. She let out a huff, returning to staring bullets. You shut the office door gently behind you. 

“That’s a tad dramatic,” he pointed out. “I’m fine.” 

“I’m not going to put words in your mouth but I’m allowed to observe, yeah?” He pursed his lips, shoving his hands in my pockets. You nodded. “Other Watcher, bad. Wiles Westley Watchamacalllhim is making you, Rupert Giles, sad. You want Buffy to remain under your watch, lack of better word, and this new man is now stepping all over your toes in that regard. Observations correct?”

“Generally.” 

“What am I missing?” He shook his head. 

“It’s not important. Move on with your speal please.” 

“Buffy won’t trust this man the way she trusts you. She never could, you have too much history. You have the upper hand here, despite the council not backing you up. He’ll never be half the Watcher you are,” you promised. You grabbed his hand. “Speal over.” 

He nodded gently, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You do have a way with words.” You laughed gently, shaking your head.  

“I’ll try to be more Bronte later.” He squeezed your intertwined hands, a defeated smile on his lips. 

There was a knock on the office door. You rolled your eyes and released his hand. You swung open the door to meet Wesley on the other side. 

“I have to speak to Mr. Giles.” 

“He’s all yours Wes.” You patted his chest as you walked past, back to Buffy. 

-

As the day wound down and everyone started home, you were stuck in the library still. You loved the place but the more you spent in it with two Watchers, the more you were starting to see its lesser qualities. Giles had followed Buffy and Faith out to have a generally mentor-like talk. 

Leaving you alone with Wesley. 

“So you know of Buffy because of Giles?” he questioned. You raised your head from the book you were reading. You had hardly noticed him watching you. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, standing disgustingly straight. You sat on the steps. 

“I was assistant librarian. Almost died by vampire. Happens to the best of us.” 

“He fraternized with a colleague?” 

“Continues to do so. Don’t look so jealous, Wes.” You put the book to your chest. “You’re ruining the perfect balance of the scooby gang you know.”

“Perhaps it needed to be out of kilter. I don’t see it going swimmingly right now.” He walked over to you. You looked up at him, observing his very even stature. You wondered, not for the first time, if Giles looked like this when he was a little younger. “What are you reading?”

“Rereading.” You glanced at the book. “Wuthering Heights.” 

“Classic.”

“Yes sir. One of my favorites. Helps me forget about the neverending impending doom,” you muttered. He looked awkward for a moment and then sat down beside you on the steps. You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’ve always enjoyed a bit of light fiction reading.” You opened your mouth to speak, reading the signals he was not so eloquently putting off. You were interrupted by the library door opening. 

Giles slowed his walking speed at the sight of you. Wesley stood up, embarrassed. You gave Rupert wide eyes, a gentle I don’t know sign. 

“Go do Watcher duties won’t you? The girls need someone to watch them before patrol.” Wesley wanted to argue but noted the look in Rupert’s eyes and decided against it. He gave you a nod and then passed him to leave the room. 

You were alone with Rupert. Finally.

“Wuthering Heights?” he asked gently. You nodded, a small smile on your face. 

“Am I so predictable?”

“You’re a classic.” 

You leaned against the railing, watching him with admiration in your eyes. There was something special about emotions fluttering around the room, knowing there was something to be said and something understood. You softly patted the stairs beside you. He walked over, sitting down without a word. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” he breathed. You grabbed his hand, staring down at it as you traced the lines of his palm. 

“Wesley will never be you.” 

“Are you speaking for Buffy or…or for you.” 

“For me.” You wanted to argue aggressively, assure him that whatever he was thinking was wrong. You felt the opposite, you would never love someone like you loved him. That Wesley, no matter the difference in your ages, it would always be Giles. That the age truly wasn’t even that big of a deal. You were consenting adults with fully formed frontal lobes. 

Instead you leaned down to him and put your chin on his shoulder.

“I love you,” you whispered. He did a double take with his eyes, not moving his head so as to not disturb you. You hadn’t said that yet. “You don’t have to say anything-”

“I love you too.” 

You smiled brightly. You kissed his shoulder and then sat up all the way. 

“Can you read to me?” He glanced up at you, wondering how you had moved on so quickly. 

“Hm?” 

“I just like to listen to you talk Rupert,” you murmured. You handed him your book and slid down the stairs so you were sitting beside each other. He cleared his throat curiously. “One second. I’m gonna go grab one of your sweaters from the office, I like to get cozy. You got any blankets in there Rupert?” You got up and walked away. He smiled to himself. 

“Under the desk.” 

“Ah ha!” you peeked around the corner. You emerged wearing one of his gray knitted sweaters. “I love that you have blankets in your office. Hm. I love you I think.”

“Oh?” You shrugged. 

“Yes sir.” 

You sat beside him again and put a blanket over his lap. 

“Go on. Heathcliff won’t read himself.” 

When Wesley returned he glanced through the door window before walking in. Your head rested on Giles’s, eyes closed in content. You looked rather cozy on that step. Giles kept reading, even as you presumably slept. 

Wesley turned back to bother Buffy some more.

[i-dont-work-here]

It's time. Again.

-PART 2 OF OC LORE-

Destinee Collins, EngD

RobCo Employee #127 (Ghoulification Initiation)

WARNING: There may be a bit of brutality and gore. And mentions of vomit. Eh.

War. War never changes. That was a realization Destinee had to come to. There was no more time for peace negotiations between the U.S. and China. There probably wasn't going to be any more U.S. or China left. That sentiment was fully instilled when another bomb fell.

This one hit a little close to home, home being the bunker she was currently trapped in. They were almost in the exclusion zone, if it weren't for the fact the nuke had hit mere miles away. If you want exact numbers, I couldn't give them. 10 or more miles, maybe, but nothing definitive. But, one thing was for sure. They could already feel the effects, and not just because of the ground shaking.

After a few hours or so, the nukes stopped going off. The buildings surrounding the underground bunker had fallen. And the world, all in itself, had fallen into silence. You would have thought Destinee and everyone else in the bunker would have been fine. But we already know that wasn't the case. It was only a matter of time before the ghoulification process would kick in...

And damn, did it hit like a motherfucker. There were no radiation proof suit to keep them safe. Barely and RadAway and barely any Stimpacs. The soldiers hoarded most of them to themselves. Destinee, along with a few other RobCo employees, were left with nothing. They were the first to decay. And all because of someone's greed. Greed makes or breaks a man. Greed makes or breaks the people around the man. And it easily went and tore them apart.

Destinee wasn't one for confrontation. She hated it. But her fellow RobCo employees weren't like that. Employees #1754 and #2580 were willing and able to kill anyone they saw that had something they needed.

-Battle of Bunker Intheria-

(This part got deleted and didn't save. I'm gonna fucking cry, man.)

The battle wasn't so much as a battle, but more of a conflict due to dwindling resources.

The soldiers failed to realize that they did not lock the weapons storage. With grenades and laser rifles in hand, #1754 and #2580 ambushed them. Though, not without a little help from a few soldiers. They were able to convince to turn on their fellow man to obtain resources.

The battle was... in all honesty, quite quick. And the soldiers were taken by suprise. Hell, someone had spit out their Cram (damn mystery meat). It took only a mere few shots to the head, a few seering lasers to kill them (even though we know, based on game logic, would have taken 20 or more shots for one person). The RobCo employees and their allies reigned victorious.

But, you may ask, where was Destinee? Cowering in fear. We've already established that she hates confrontation. She locked herself in the control room, away from the fight but also able to watch it on the cameras. Who knew your allies and friends could be so damn brutal...

They had finally gotten what they needed. They had gotten enough resources for themselves and even cut down the people who would need said resources in the process. Sure, some got hurt. It was expected. But they finally were set. Though, only for a while. Something very terrible, very irradiated, was festering...

Destinee, along with one of the soldiers she got to know as Cole Giles was already decaying. Their skin, once semi-pristine, was now falling off their body. Their flesh started tearing like wet paper. The medbay in the bunker was empty, though it had previously been torn apart in the battle for the bunker.

The bathrooms of the bunker could very well be called a crime scene from how much blood and vomit had come from the decaying two. It was hell, a suffering they had never felt before. Some may portray the ghoulification process as something simple or skim over it entirely. But I'm not going to. This shit isn't fun. It isn't easy. It's a deep, painful suffering, one that, hopefully, no one will actually have to experience.

But enough of that. I don't wanna dwell on the bad things. I'm trying to bring this back to being lighthearted. I'll have to save that for...

-PART 3 COMING SOON-

[hiddenbysuccubi]

“Times being what they are - Dark, and getting darker all the time.” 2012. Another one of those years where the world stood prophesied to end. It wouldn’t, despite the fractures in the spiderweb lines of those who fought against the darkness. Though most people didn’t know that. Couldn’t fathom time marching forward, again. For them, it was almost a foregone conclusion that the world would end.. Craters and hellmouths and illness and war opening up like pock-marks against the skin of every continent. Still, the heat of a California summer afternoon hit her naked shoulders much the same as it did back-when. The sun which continued to rise and sink, rise and sink, days and years passing in a blur. Not for him, though. Only for her. Those mistakes she’d made, those times she had gotten lost in spectacular ways, could all stay in old watcher diaries long forgotten. In pages quickly fading. As she hiked her bag’s strap higher on the slender slope of her shoulder, and headed away from the sun’s zenith, towards the catalyst town that had started it all. Sunnyhell. It felt like deja vu. In a sense, it was some sort of Groundhog’s Day, both that last fateful moment before the blinding flame replaying in her memory, and how she’d planned this next step meticulously. Over and over and over and over. In her waking thoughts, in dreams. “I’ve lived for sodding ever.” Only just over 30. Half of it living as the ‘chosen one’, standing between good and the forces of evil. Except… the lines got crossed. Somewhere, somehow. And back then she wasn’t ‘one’. Not really. It’s what had made her exceptional. She’d had family, friends. Now…. Willow, greyscale. Watchers and slayers, scattered. Xander, MIA, Giles in London regrouping with what little battlement they had left, Dawn in Rome. The dead, too many. Leaving the world broken, broken, broken as her. Not done, though. Never done. Never left alone. Never allowed to die. Just as Buffy. She was just… empty. Instead. Inside. Outside, a General, strong, resilient, apathetic. Today had to be the day to change all that.

The witch-seer Althenea had said so. Not to be confused with the slayer Athena Jamison-Smith. No, after Willow'd gone rogue (again) and Giles had grown distant (again- again), Althenea had coached Buffy on a lot - helped her while she'd done her best to march on, helped her train Violet as both a Slayer and witch who could stand in Buffy's absence. Told Buffy when the planets and energies would converge in order to deliver her alone, to split the flow of time. To save the world. Buffy just couldn’t be ‘Buffy’ to accomplish that.

That was fine with Buffy. Buffy hadn’t been “Buffy” in such a long time. “Times being what they are…. Hard, and getting harder all the time.”

[enigmatist17]

Weight of the World (Part 4)

----

Part 1 2 3 5

----

Dawn doesn't end up sleeping on her cot.

It's not what she wanted at first, but throughout the day, she kept checking on Spike after everyone had passed out throughout her home. It was so weird to hear the different breathing patterns of six other people when there used to be only two others, and Dawn decided to take them in while everyone slept starting with those downstairs.

Xander snored, no surprise there. Each snore of his was followed by a quiet wheezing from Anya, and the two were almost in perfect synch as they slept on the couch together. The former vengeance demon was using him as a mattress, one hand tangled in his hair while the other was tucked around his waist, held in place by Xander's arms, hugging her close as if she'd fall the moment he relaxed. 

Across the house, Giles and Ethan were sleeping in what was usually the dining room; the large table pushed aside for a bed that Ethan had conjured out of thin air, much to the awe of Dawn, who had spent a few minutes poking it. Giles has tucked the warlock against his side, the steady rise and fall of his chest in synch with Ethan's, and Dawn hopes he sticks around. She hadn't been there when Ethan had wreaked havoc on Sunnydale, but at the end of the day, he'd never truly gone to hurt anyone, even nearly dying to prevent a demon from his and Giles' past from killing any more people. Ever since that the two had been in an awkward holding pattern, Ethan understandably nervous to remain in town where Buffy had made it clear she didn't care for him, yet still stubborn enough to be found lounging around his flat when various Scoobies would barge in. It was a strange relationship, but Dawn figured they were made for each other in their own strange way, so she smiled before quietly making her way back upstairs.

Willow and Tara didn't stir when she cracked open the door to her mother's old room; the two nestled in bed like they'd always belonged there. They were as quiet as the nights she'd spent in their dorm before, Willow letting out an occasional mumble while Tara was pretty much dead to the world, and Dawn didn't linger too long before trodding back to her room with a yawn.

Spike makes no noise, which she knew was unsurprising, the vampire slightly curled on his side. They'd been able to take some of the hastily slapped-on braces off after he experimented with moving his arms and legs after eating, and had promptly fallen asleep before anyone could ask any more of him. Dawn looked over at the cot they'd pulled out of the basement for her but found the thought of sleeping on it unappealing as she fidgeted in the doorway. She's not very surprised when she moves for her bed, slipping under the covers as far away from the sleeping vampire as possible, hoping that she doesn't wake him. Despite the sliver of space between them, the tension that had settled in Dawn's shoulders seeped away as she got comfortable.

She's asleep before Spike cracks his eyes open, watching the small human sleep the day away with a fond look.

---

Giles is the first to wake in the early evening hours, momentarily disoriented at where he'd been sleeping before the previous day's memories hit him, and he lays back down with a quiet huff. Ethan doesn't stir in his arms, which in and of itself is a small mercy, taking a selfish moment to enjoy the warmth in his arms, which he hoped wouldn't leave anytime soon. He wasn't sure how he was going to approach Ethan with an offer he quite frankly should have given already, but that can be a problem for more aware Giles; right now, he was going to lie here a few moments long before he got up. He can see Xander and Anya still asleep on the couch as he finally gets up, heading towards the kitchen to get the coffee started.

As much as he enjoyed his tea, this was very much a coffee morning.

Xander joins him right as the coffee maker beeps, cursed thing, the two nodding as mugs are chosen and filled.

"You guys sleep alright?" The younger man yawned after taking a sip. 

"As much as anyone can right now, I suppose." Giles nodded, looking at the swirling liquid in his cup. 

"Cool, cool." Silence passes between the two for a moment, broken when Anya and Tara enter the kitchen.

"I smelled coffee, and can use a very large amount." The former demon went straight for the cup Xander had prepared for her, Tara giggling a little bit. "Thank you, Xander."

"Any time sweetie." Tara scooted past Giles to get her own mug, the distant sounds of kids playing in the street filtering in from the open windows no one remembered opening. 

There was a lot of that going around.

Willow comes down to hear some small talk passing between the small group, giving a wave as she heads for the fridge first. She pulls out some blood for Spike to warm in the microwave.

"He'd come down and get it himself, but Dawnie has kind of pinned him to the mattress." She hummed, grabbing her favorite mug from the cabinet while the microwave hummed. "It's cute, the way she's all curled up and stuff."

"I don't blame her for wanting company I suppose," Giles commented, not particularly comfortable with the arrangement, but at the same time he was pushing away his general distrust for the knowledge that Spike was injured for trying to save the girl in the first place. "Poor thing much be knackered."

"I managed to get her the week off, but next week, she's going to have to go back to school." Xander shook his head. We've got until then to figure out what the plan is going to be."

"W-Willow and I were talking about it a little last night before we fell asleep," Tara glanced over at Willow, who was now pouring the blood into a fresh cup. "W-We could move in; the dorm isn't too far, a-and help make sure she at least has company."

"Do you feel comfortable doing so?" Ethan's question nearly made everyone jump, the warlock making an amused snort as he stood beside Giles with his arms crossed. "School is important."

"A small commute is nothing." Willow shrugged, passing by the others to head back upstairs. 

"As the car guy, I can make sure she makes it to school if she misses the bus and stuff," Xander offered before pausing and squinting at his mug. "God, I sound like such an adult."

"You kind of are." Tara giggled behind her mug, the younger man cracking a smile.

"Still, I can do that, and I can always drop by for movie nights or whatever you guys would like."

"I can provide financial assistance." Anya smiled, preening to herself when no one said anything rude about her offer. "I have become very good at online trading."

"Smart girl." Ethan stole Giles' mug to take a sip before grimacing, much to the amusement of the Watcher. "Would it kill you to add some sugar, love?"

"Perhaps." Ethan rolled his eyes as he took in the group. "What about the vampire?"

"He already lives here." Xander's answer makes the warlock's eyes go wide. I need to finish the basement restoration. I might have the guys come help me speed up the process."

"He lives here? Rupert you never told me." The Watcher shrugged, gently nudging Ethan's side.

"It's a recent occurrence." A look of understanding passed between the two before the warlock tutted under his breath.

"Well, if that's the case, I'll enchant the windows." 

"You'll what to the windows?" Xander cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"I can make it so Spike doesn't burn to a crisp within the home." Honestly, didn't years working at the Slayer's side teach the boy anything?

"That's so cool." Tara gushed, shooting a look at the warlock that made his heart feel fuzzy. "Would it be hard?"

"Not overly so, it's quite simple really."

The talk of magic can barely be heard upstairs, Willow handing Spike his mug before sitting at the end of Dawn's bed.

"H-How are you feeling?" The vampire shrugged, his face shifting before he downed the cup in one solid go. As much as he'd tried not to let on to his pain, she could see the faint tremble as he sat up, and with a quiet chant, the bed seemed to support the vampire.

"Red, I thought we spoke about magic." He wants to sound more chiding than he does, but not to have his ribs screaming at him was a blessing.

"Only thing I'm doing, promise." She held up her hands with a small smile, and Spike gave the witch a fond look.

"Good girl. How's everyone, I can hear 'em downstairs."

"Tired, um, just really tired you know?" Spike nods as he looks down into his empty cup before glancing over at the sleeping Dawn, his face shifting back to its human state. 

"The Bit is exhausted, but she should wake soon." His voice is tender in a way Willow wasn't expecting, and his blue eyes soon look up and over to her. "Can I ask you somethin' Red?"

"Of course." 

"If I left, not forever, but for a little while, would you watch over her?" She wasn't expecting that sort of question, the vampire's gaze holding hers. 

"Where would you be going?"

"Somewhere none of you can follow."

"Oh..."

Willow and Spike hold each other's gaze, and after a few moments, she smiles.

"I'd protect her with my life, I love Dawnie." Something seems to shift in Spike's eyes, and the vampire looks down at the sleeping teen. 

"Good."

---

Buffy is laid to rest in a quiet ceremony a few days later, and the Scoobies and some friendly demons are the only ones in attendance. Angel had arrived the day beforehand, he and Spike having what looked like a serious talk in the backyard of Buffy's home not long after he'd been shown the couch for the next day. Everyone knew whatever they spoke about was important, Angel actually tender when he placed a hand on Spike's shoulder at one point, a pained look in his eyes as the younger shrugged under his hold. They didn't speak for the rest of Angel's time back in Sunnydale, the older vampire departing the night Buffy was buried after saying his goodbyes and hugging Dawn close with a promise to come and visit more often. 

Dawn is sent to school at the beginning of the next week, plastering on a smile that doesn't reach her eyes as she lies about being sick to her friends. She nearly bolted during the first day, hesitating by one of the side doors before realizing that running away wasn't the answer she craved, She hid out in the library and got lost in a book she'd grabbed off a random cart. The relief of seeing Xander's car waiting in the pick-up area helped shed whatever anxiety was clinging to her, the two getting a small treat of ice cream before returning to the house. 

Spike is there at night to nudge her toward her schoolwork, sitting patiently through a rant before tapping her folder with a stern look. Ethan ends up hanging around in the back of the room as Spike walks her through some of her English homework, able to see the gleam of the Victorian Englishman he'd been in another lifetime, which in and of itself was a treat no regular person would ever experience. 

The vampire is up and running by the end of her first week back, patrolling the graveyards as a sort of test, dusting a few fledglings with ease. True, the first night he's exhausted when he stumbles home, but a few days of constant workout's and some training with Ethan, he's back in his true deadly state, most demons steering clear whenever Spike was nearby. He steps back when the group gets the Buffybot up and running, whatever murmurs of dissent he'd heard through the grapevine dying down when it was back to the "status quo". 

It's a little after that he sits down with Giles.

---

Rupert had long stopped jumping when he came home to find Spike, be it raiding his Weetabix or borrowing some books, it was just a common sight at this point. Seeing him waiting on the couch, fresh tea made and lacking any jokes makes him pause, the door still open.

"We need to talk, Rupert." It's the first time he's ever heard his name spoken without sass. The Watcher finishes entering his apartment and locking the door despite his unease. The vampire watches him silently hang his coat before joining him on the opposite end of the couch, the tea warm to the touch when he gathers his mug.

"Is something the matter?" 

"In a way." Giles' eyes widen at the prim and proper accent he's never heard from the vampire, and idly wonders if that's how he sounded in his human life. The two of them sip their tea. Spike slowly rotates the cup in his hands as he looks at the floor with an expression that Giles couldn't put a finger on, letting the other take his time. "I need a favor from you."

"What sort of favor?" His voice isn't accusatory, blue eyes glancing over with a weak smirk before they look away once more.

"I need you to take care of Dawn and the Scoobies for me."

"What?" Giles blinked as the vampire took another sip of his tea. "Are you leaving?"

"For a little while," His voices wavers, and the Watcher once again waits. "There is something I need to do, and I don't know how long it's going to take. Could be a week, could be a month, I don't know, but I can't leave until I know the little Bit will be safe."

"Have you spoken to the others?" Spike shakes his head, straightening in his seat as he properly gives the Watcher the entirety of his focus.

"No, and I'd rather no one else, but you do." Rupert and Spike look at each other, a shine in the vampire's eyes that he'd never seen before. "I need your word she'll be safe, from herself and from the other people in this town."

"I would never let harm come to pass to Dawn, nor the others, surely you know this?" 

"I know." Spike sighs as he glances around the room before back to the Watcher. "I'm going to seek out my soul."

"What?" Rupert had to put his cup down before he spilled it, eyes wide as he stared at the vampire. "That's not possible."

"It is, and I'm going to do whatever I have to." Angel flashes in Giles' mind, and he doesn't have to think too hard to fill in the blanks. 

"Why?"

"Why else? While she is—I promised her to protect Dawn until the end of the world, and I can't do this without that part of me I lost a long time ago." The Watcher is dumbfounded, well aware he most likely looked ridiculous. "I trust you more than any of the others, and it doesn't hurt you've got your warlock who could blow the top off a mountain if you asked him."

Giles mumbles something suspiciously like Ethan already had before, and Spike chuckles to himself.

"Spike..." The human ran a hand through his hair as Spike finished his tea. "What you're going to do - you are a good man."

"No I'm not, but I want to be." 

"Fair enough I suppose. Will you tell Dawn you're leaving?"

"I will, after she gets off school, I leave tonight."

"Godspeed then." Spike shrugged and got to his feet, Giles rising with him. "Spike?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck, and know that I will move heaven and earth to keep them safe."

"I know you will Watcher." He watches the vampire disappear after slinging his coat over his head, taking a deep breath before going for his phone.

---

Dawn is surprised to see a familiar DeSoto waiting to pick her up, slipping in the backseat before one of the concerned-looking teachers could stop her from entering the car.

"I didn't know you were getting me today!" Spike waves as he begins the drive, some teachers eyeing the oddly blacked-out windows as they leave. "What's the occasion?"

"Oh, no reason." The lie falls flat, but Dawn is happy enough to leave it alone as she fills him in about her day. Spike takes her up and into the woods, finding their favorite spot that is shady enough in the daytime to prevent him from bursting into flames. She can see he's set up a picnic, grinning at the excuse to avoid her homework as she bounds out of the car once he's parked.

"Okay, you are totally doing this for a reason." She points at the amused man as he takes a seat on the spread-out blanket, the teen sitting across from him as she eyed a lot of her favorite foods spread out.

"Go on, eat up." She smiles and tucks in, the two sharing small talk until Dawn lapses into an easy silence.

'So, you gonna tell me what this is all for?' she popped a chip into her mouth as the vampire tilted his head just enough to give a simple smile.

"Dawn," The teen sits up a little straighter at the actual use of her name. "I'm going to go away, for a little while."

"W-What?"

"Easy Bit," A cool hand takes hers as Dawn feels the beginning of an anxiety attack, and she grabs onto it wth her other hand. "I'm not leaving you, I just have to do something."

"Now? You have to go so soon? Y-You can't leave right now, everything isn't back to normal yet, a-and we -"

"Dawn, I have to." His gentle tone cut her off, and for a moment, all she did was take ragged breaths as he gave her time to work through it. "This is for you and Buffy, and the longer I wait, the harder it will be for me to do what I need."

"Will you be gone long?" Her voice is trembling, and she feels him squeeze her hands. 

"I don't know, but I will come back, come hell or high water."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'till the end of the world."

His promise is the only thing that stops her from breaking into tears when she, Willow, and Giles see the vampire off to the airport that evening, watching as he waves before vanishing past the gate. She had to be strong for him, so strong she would be.

[kitkatt0430]

sorry for the difficult asks but: 🌀 and ☔ from thr recent ask game you reblogged, pls?

Don't worry about it, these are fun for me. :D

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

I've mentioned this one before and of course it's taking longer to write than expected...

When the rebels discover a hidden Imperial base on Wayland, no one expected what they'd find hidden within the depths of Mount Tantiss. Droids, cloning equipment, Sith Artifacts... and the Hero with No Fear sleeping in carbonite.

I've got a decent sized chunk of the story written. But I'm a bit stuck on it right now. There's the question of whether Anakin is a clone or if Darth Vader is a clone - this gets sorted fairly early. Then, of course, there's Anakin dealing with his grief over Padme's death and Obi-Wan dealing with his own grief and a bit of self-loathing of how he left the version of Anakin he fought on Mustafar and he's been drinking pretty heavily. And there's also Bail Organa, who knows that Anakin is going to want to be part of his children's lives but that it's not really safe for that... and the clone medic Dancer, who thinks they're all being way more dramatic about everything than is necessary but no one asked her opinion. She'll give it anyway.

It's set a few years post Revenge of the Sith, ignores the Kenobi show entirely, and takes into account more Legends canon than new canon. Mostly it's angsty hurt/comfort fic. But Anakin is going to have to realize that it's not safe for him to be his children's dad right now. Especially while Vader's out there. So that'll be a big ouch. But with hope that he can be a part of their lives later on; he's not planning to just take Luke and Leia away because they do have families that love them now, but he could make himself a part of those families and bring them together so that his kids can know each other... if he can help bring down the Empire, of course.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

So I answered this one already here, but I have more than a few that hit this category. So I'll do another one.

This is another crossover idea with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but this one would have been with NCIS. Tony would have been Buffy's cousin, so when Sunnydale collapses Buffy turns to him to look after Dawn while she heads to Europe to help Giles re-form a new version of the Watcher's Council. She's going to be on the move a lot and graduating on time will be easier on Dawn if she stays in the states.

It would have been set shortly post plague but before Kate's death, adding a few cases into that space so it's not 'Tony almost dies of the plague and then immediately gets put through the ringer'. There'd be some danger headed their way from the supernatural side of things because the Key is without the Slayer's protection now and Dawn has to figure out how to deal with the repercussions of that. Yes, Buffy or any of the other Slayers would come running if she needed them, but Dawn wants to fight her own battles. And what does it mean for Tony to be caught up in all this? Does he want to stick with NCIS, where he's not sure he's happy and his biggest reason to stay is to support Gibbs. Or does he go somewhere his experience might be better appreciated?

I tend to have mixed opinions about all the characters on NCIS, so I think that would have been reflected heavily in the fic. But much like with Bones, I kinda got bored with NCIS. So I don't know that I'd ever write this one.

[dracoandthehounds]

Writing Diary - Dec 7th 2023

Wrote a little over 3,000 words today! Big relief bc this scene has been plaguing me. I think when I have these scenes where I use a lot of canon, it can really throw off the flow for me… I get very restrained from letting things progress bc I have to make sure I align with what’s happening canonically….

It’s why I gravitate so much to having like Nell and Draco be off on their own lol or bringing in Harry + crew in scenes that weren’t in canon. Sometimes it flows pretty naturally—- like the Christmas scene where I’m just adding Draco—- but it’s always hard when it’s like a bunch of characters together who all have their own things going on 😭 it makes me want to just like…

“So Nell and Draco got bored and left” lmao

But I can’t do that when it’s like… important to the plot. So I try to spice it up w like other stuff happening alongside but then I think I get overwhelmed by everything that’s going on.

Anyway—- long story short… I don’t like having a bunch of characters in a scene. 5 is like maximum before im overwhelmed and have to stop myself from like having a book fall off a shelf and knocking one of them out or something so I don’t have to worry about them anymore 😭😂

On that note….. I love the joke of how much Giles gets knocked unconscious in BTVS and I want to incorporate it into this story… so far here’s everyone’s tallies for being knocked unconscious/fainting… I won’t include pétrification bc idk how that technically works

Hermione: none (wow! Maybe this is why she’s smarter than the rest of them 😭😭😭)

Harry: 5 (Quirrell battle, dementors on train, dementors at Quidditch, dementors at lake, oh almost forgot the bludger in his second year!! - he landed, and fainted from pain I think)

5 fainting, 0 knockouts

Ron: 2 (chess, pettigrew’s spell)

0 fainting, 2 knockouts

Draco: 2 (Ginny/riddle’s spell, dementors)

1 fainting, 1 knockout

Nell: 5!! (Spanish turn incident, apparition/floo in DM1, floo to the burrow, Lupin incident, upcoming fainting in the next chapter)

3 fainting, 2 knockouts.

Hmm… it seems like Nell has taken the most hits to the head then…. Harry faints quite a lot though lmao

[thewingedwolf]

I’m gonna attempt to watch through all of Buffy bc tbh I don’t…remember a lot of it. So much of it is also filtered through my 12 year old mind and that was just a mess of hormones and repressed sexuality so it’s not reliable at ALL (I mean who knows I might give up at one point like I did with Glee lol).

Anyway Im halfway through s2 and my opinions are

Sarah Michelle Gellar really holds the script all together ya kno. She’s just absolutely pitch perfect right off the bat

Especially obvious bc I forgot how bad the acting is in the first two seasons, it’s just SMG and Anthony Stewart Head giving the performances of their lives and everyone else is giving their best High Schooler Attempting And Failing To Deliver A Hamlet Soliloquy

I think it’s funny that Willow almost right away seems to see morality as much greyer than any of the Scooby Gang. She tends to see the good in bad people because she wants to believe in the power of redemption. It’s interesting when you think about it in terms of her story as the series goes on.

Why does the show try to convince us that Willow and Xander have chemistry. There is Nothing there

I adore Joyce. I can already tell the reason her death made me hysterical as a tween is because she’s not just a compelling character (and not to ever give That Bitch any props, but a mom being ALIVE can be so hard to come by in SFF and I’ve complained about it before), but sometimes she reminds me of the women in my family, and U Kno I Love Projecting

That theme really does go so hard tho

Giles puts up a good fight but like 3 episodes in he is so EAGER and READY to play the father to Buffy, Xander, and Willow and loudly complain about how they don’t treat their father with respect lol

Dru/Spike is just as appealing to me now as it was to me as a tween, I just love Villain Who Is Devoted To His Wife dynamics, and Dru is so weird and SO FUN

The kid who plays the Anointed One is so boring, I’m sorry little kid but show an emotion bro

Honestly, while I think s1 is a bit uneven, the show picks up Immediately when Spike and Dru show up. They bring such a fun, uniquely stylized villainy to the show, and I think that’s when it really starts to cement its own flair of urban fantasy, and even tho I want to fight Joss Whedon with my bare hands, I GET why this flavor of urban fantasy completely took over the genre

I love the way Xander dresses because I dressed exactly like that in middle school and I’m very embarrassed to realize that my friends were right I was SUCH a frumpy dresser

I loved Bangel as a kid but I also LOVED Cordelia/Angel (like I was DEVASTATED when she died I loved her so much) and seeing Cordelia and Angel hit it off IMMEDIATELY even when he’s dating Buffy made me giggle lol Angel really does find her very charming

Okay but imagine you are Giles and you finally have your life on track as a Watcher and you’ve gotten used to suddenly being a dad to 4 children and a vampire, and you don’t even LIKE half your new children but it’s fine, you’ve got it under control, the principal likes you, you’re making friends, and then your evil ex boyfriend shows up Lichrally just so he can get off on you beating the shit out of him like how angry would you be??! The life of a DILF is so hard

I am just now realizing I had a huge crush on Drusilla when I was a kid and it’s in character bc Zhaan in Farscape was my bi awakening but why did I have such weird taste in women as a teenager bro

(Also omg I think I was in love with Cordelia??? Ajsjdjd I repressed so many crushes on girls as a kid holy shit)

#JusticeForJennyCalendar she was so cool and she dressed so cool and watching Giles trip over his feet around her was so damn cute

I love the Spike/Dru/Darla/Angel fucked up family dynamic, it was my FAVORITE in the show

Feels like the show is hell bent on making Buffy pay and make amends for not having a crush on Xander and it is so annoying. Like every time she shows An Interest in Angel or another guy, Xander gets to be there Suffering Loudly, and Buffy once again has to make space for his continued forcing of the responsibility of his feelings onto her. Why is this her problem?

So I know we canceled Angel in the first few seasons for dating a high schooler when hes 300 or whatever, but Angel is just SO emotionally repressed post-getting-his-soul-and-breaking-up-with-Darla that I don’t think he’s mature enough for older friends, he’s just so whiny in a specifically teenagery way

But also doesn’t he ever get tired of a bunch of high schoolers constantly trying to be his best friend after awhile??

This is not me saying I hate Angel, I love that emotionally repressed, painfully awkward broody bitch he’s my man in all his awkwardly Byronic glory

I loved Xander/Cordelia, they are so funny together

I just love Kendra so much, I wish we’d had her for longer

I think I might get way farther in this rewatch than I expected because I’m actually really enjoying myself. We’ll see how long my attention span lasts

[spnae]

Chapter 27 Changes

It was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning when there was a quiet commotion at the front door as the level two girls returned with Faith. Faith was exhausted and annoyed, “Upstairs. Bed. All of you!” She hissed. Faith sighed and took a few steps towards the living room, “That better be a stuffy Brit in there because if one of the girls left the TV on I might just freaking lose it.”

“Never been called ‘stuffy’ but definitely London born and bred, still got a family crypt with my sodding name on it,” Spike drawled.

“Not the Brit I was expecting but I’ll take it,” she said as she plunked herself down in one of the leather barrel chairs. She nodded her head towards Buffy curled up next to Spike with her head on a pillow in his lap and a blue and green tartan blanket over her slight form. “Is this another ‘mother hen’ thing? If she’s not careful I’m gonna start thinking she’s sweet on me.”

Spike snorted out all small laugh, “Not exactly, we sort of kicked Giles out and took over the vigil. This was a planned kip on the couch. I should probably wake her up. She wanted to know if you heard anything about the girl.”

Faith shook her head, “Don’t bother. All three of the neck traumas turned out to be vamps but none of them were our girl, two guys and a super-buff lady bodybuilder type. There’s definitely been a lot more new vampires this last year. This is getting ridiculous, it's like they’re turning everyone.”

“Hoping the girl’s just exercising her inner rebel and she’s on a bender or something.”

“I hear that. What do you make of all this?”

He shrugged, “Magic always comes with a price. Angel’s people were so busy dealing with the Senior Partners that we barely noticed what else was going on. The minute I got to Paris with Buffy I noticed something was different. Hard to put my finger on it and I was pretty focused on getting to her but it does seem like demon activity is slowly ramping up. Might be a good idea to check out some of the other Hellmouths, see if one of them didn’t open up or something.”

“Just Cleveland right?”

“I’m no expert but I think there’s probably at least a couple more. Haven’t been active in ages, of that I’m sure. Went to Sunnydale in the first place to get Dru strong, there definitely weren’t any other ones active then. Cleveland woke up a few years ago. My guess is that a few more probably opened for business after the big Slayer-boom and we’re just now starting to see the up-tick.”

“Damn I wish that didn’t make sense to my tired brain. Alright man, one thing at a time. Missing girl. I’m hitting the sack. You two coming upstairs?”

Spike eyed Buffy sleeping soundly with one arm wrapped tightly around his lap, “Nah, I think we’re just going to kip here. This room doesn’t get direct sunlight, we should be good.”

“Your call man.”

“Cheers,” he murmured dismissively. He turned his gaze back towards Buffy, she looked almost like a child curled up the way she was. Adorable. He made an effort to make himself more comfortable without moving her too much as he snuggled down with her.

****************

The girls stampeded down the stairs for breakfast, waking Buffy up with a start. She was usually up before them. She gingerly moved Spike’s arm from across her upper body, as she tried to get up. She gave his shoulder a little shove, not realizing the precarious position he was in on the edge of the couch.

“Wh— ah!“ Spike yelped as he fell unceremoniously to the floor with a thud.

“Ohh! God, Spike! I’m sorry!!!” She squealed in response and leaned over the edge of the couch to look at him.

“Oofff,” he lifted his head and clunked it back down on the plush blue rug covering the floor, “Morning to you too, Pet,” he groaned.

“Sorry—“ she grimaced apologetically.

“Can think of a way you can make it up to me,” he said with a smirk.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “You can take it out on my hide later, I’m already running late.”

He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck “Go on, teach, impart wisdom. I’m going upstairs until it’s time for my afternoon class.”

Buffy groaned as she got up and stretched her arms above her head. Spike sat up on the floor as he watched her with interest, “Wake me if you hear anything about Sheena’s sister, would you?”

“Faith didn’t have anything new I take it?”

“Nah, not a thing.”

She nodded once and got up. Spike followed her up to their room where Buffy quickly got changed and headed back down for coffee and her morning session with the girls.

It was late afternoon when Spike came down to the kitchen after his class. He was working with the Level 4 girls on resourcefulness and creative fighting techniques. Buffy and Faith had of course stressed the point while working with them but they all felt it was such an essential part of Slaying that Spike had agreed to take on the task. After all, Spike was undoubtedly just as creative and resourceful in his fighting as Buffy. Plus he offered a unique insight, that Buffy especially felt was essential for them to really grasp what it meant to be a Slayer.

Giles came into the kitchen just as Spike was making himself comfortable with his feet up on the corner of the table and a mug of blood in his hands. He eyed the vampire as he made himself a cup of tea and carefully managed to bring it to the table without spilling it. He raised a crutch knocking Spike’s booted feet off the table.

“Oh come on, mate, just got comfortable,” he whined petulantly.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Spike,” he grumbled as he sat down in front of him.

Spike watched him, “Where you been all day anyway?”

“I’ve been making calls. Seems demonic activity, especially vampire activity has been on the rise. I just got a call from my man working with the Slayer in Cleveland, she’s asking if we can send a second Slayer to help with the increase. My contacts in Pittsburgh say things have gotten so bad that they have been quietly trying to encourage people to stay in after dark in some of the rougher neighborhoods. I’ve assured them I have two Slayers set to arrive by next week. I’ve never heard Spencer so relieved. He’s even offered to set up a loft apartment for them, rent free, in a building he owns.”

“This nice guy a Watcher?”

“One of the few left that actually observes my authority, or rather Buffy’s, I suppose would be more accurate. He had been teaching a group of trainees in an off the books location when the council was attacked. He and his students have agreed to work with us. Unfortunately that means that including his students and the surviving members of the council there are only about thirty Watchers willing to work with us here at the school. I had been planning on sending Zari to Vancouver to be closer to her family, however now I think she would be better suited for Cleveland.”

“And Wendy?”

“She’ll be working in Miami. She comes from a very wealthy family. They have a house there and she’ll be able to blend in with the party scene there rather easily. I believe she is rather looking forward to the placement.”

“Thought I smelled socialite when she was around.”

“Ah yes, she did have a particularly difficult time coming to terms with the calling, a bit like Buffy. Well a bit worse if I’m honest.”

“Can’t rightly picture Buffy being anything less than what she is.”

“Naturally. By the time you ehh… met her, Buffy had already largely come to terms with accepting her role.”

“First time I saw her I knew she was something special. Her resourcefulness always impressed me. Never could have imagined falling in love with her the way I did.”

“I don’t think anyone saw that coming.”

“Drusilla did.”

“Really?”

“Didn’t Buffy ever tell you? It’s why Dru left me in the first place. Told me she couldn’t stand to touch me because my head was full of the Slayer. Said a lot of things that turned out to be true, Dru did,” Spike took a deep drink of blood and tipped his head back for a moment. He straightened up looking at Giles, “you ever look into that thing we talked about when Buffy and I first got here?”

“The Hellmouths?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I’ve been doing some research, it’s been a bit slow. However what I’ve found seems to support your theory. That’s actually what prompted my phone calls today, Faith brought it up to me this morning.”

“We might’ve had a little chat last night.”

“Yes well the statistics I’ve been able to compile so far would suggest that smaller towns outside of Pittsburgh, Seattle and Chicago might be prime suspects in America as well as a small area outside of Strasbourg, France and— and possibly Dalkeith—“

“Dalkeith? You’re putting me on. Where Sheena is from?”

“These are only possible sites where Hellmouths could potentially be. This isn’t even considering if they are active or not. There could be any number of such places. However a pattern does seem to be emerging. All of these locations are near but not actually in large cities. Even Cleveland’s Hellmouth isn’t in the heart of the city. It’s located under a retirement village just on the outer edge of the city.”

“Sunnydale being close but not too close to LA.”

“Exactly, which does tend to both narrow and widen the search simultaneously.”

“Couldn’t Willow just do some sort of a locator spell or something? Maybe even tell us if they’ve been activated or not?”

Giles thought about it for a moment, “There is a fairly standard spell I’m sure she could modify,” Giles checked his watch, “Willow is at the library until closing tonight, I’ll have to call her tomorrow.”

“Dunno if it’s pressing or not, just an uneasy feeling. Maybe I’m just being paranoid because of the whole pillar-of-fire thing, don’t think I got another one of those in me.”

“No, I rather think not,” Giles shook his head.

“Any of these calls you been making have anything to do with our missing girl?”

“A few, I have some feelers out.”

Spike nodded. The two men sat in relaxed silence as Spike finished his blood and Giles sipped at his tea. The phone rang and Spike got up languidly to retrieve it. He looked at the number displayed on the handheld phone, it wasn’t Willow or Dawn or even Angel for that matter, so he handed the phone over to Giles.

Spike took his mug to the sink to wash it and set it in the dish drainer. He was just getting ready to leave the kitchen when Giles hung up the phone looking grave.

“What is it?”

Giles shook his head, “I’d rather not have to go over this more than once. Would you please go get Buffy? Faith too if she’s around but I believe she was getting a shower and going over to Mr Ross’s flat. She may have already left.”

“Is this about Ruby?”

Giles nodded and Spike’s stomach clenched.

A few minutes later Spike and Buffy we’re back in the kitchen with Giles, all three of them looking grim. Faith had already left for Callum’s.

“What’s the sitch? Spike said you had something on Ruby.”

Giles cleared his throat, “I just got a call back from a friend who works at one of the morgues. They got a report of a missing body and a dead assistant medical examiner in Dalkeith.”

Spike squeezed Buffy’s shoulder, she turned her face into his hand brushing her cheek against the back of the hand he had rested there. Buffy inhaled shakily, “Did you get a description of the missing body?” she asked. She turned back to look at Giles. She could read the answer on Giles’s face before he even opened his mouth, “It matches the description of Sheena’s missing sister.”

Buffy couldn’t speak. Sheena had just turned fifteen before they had arrived. Spike said there were five years between the girls and she knew they were close. Sheena would often talk about her sister. This was just too much. The whole situation seemed too surreal. A large stone dropped in the pit of Buffy’s stomach. At once her mind shot to an image she had in her head of Dawn while she had been dead. The thought made her want to throw up.

She felt a little surge of energy, mixed with love and steely resolve spread into her. It started at her shoulder under Spike’s hand, and spread through her. Her back muscles tensed almost of their own accord making her sit up more rigidly. She took another deep breath, this one much more steady, “What’s her family’s address? Spike and I will go tonight. We can canvas the area and—”

“I tried to call her mother again just now but there was no answer. I’ll try again before it gets dark.”

Buffy turned towards Spike, his jaw was set, she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was without even tapping into their link.

They had both seen it a number of times, a new vampire would often return home. Sometimes it was out of confusion or ignorance, sometimes it was out of malice. Whatever the reason, it never ended well.

Spike had been there, he’d done it. He’d killed his only living family, his dear mother, mere days after being turned. He caught sight of his own black polished fingernails and remembered Sheena insisting on doing them for him just before he and Buffy left for their weekend getaway. A pang of guilt shot through him.

“I’m grabbing a crossbow and a couple of stakes, you want anything?” He asked, standing up abruptly.

“I think I want my scythe for this one. Feels like official business.”

“What should I tell Sheena?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look, “We won’t be leaving right away. If she comes down, let her know her sister is missing and that Spike and I are going to check it out. Let her know there’s a possible vamp angle going on. I don’t want her completely blindsided if we have to dust her sister,” she glanced at Spike again, “Sometimes I really hate this job,” Buffy said a little tiredly. She wasn’t physically tired. It was more of the thought of explaining to Sheena that they had to kill her undead sister that was exhausting.

****************

Sheena’s parents lived in a large cottage just barely outside of town. The light over the front door was on, as was a light in what looked like the kitchen. Buffy knocked on the door and a disheveled looking woman with mousy brown hair came to the door.

She was fully dressed and her walking shoes had fresh mud on them, “You must be Miss Summers and Mr. Spike, we only just got home when Mr. Giles called to say you were coming over,” she choked back a sob and took a deep breath, “It’s so good of you to come out to help look for our girl. We’ve been out looking for hours.”

Buffy let out a little sigh of relief, at least Sheena’s parents were safe and Giles had finally got through to them, “We’re glad to help any way we can, do you mind if we come in, Mrs Anderson?”

“By all means, yes please, come in,” she said.

Buffy and Spike followed her and sat down at the kitchen table where her husband was sitting with a cup of tea in front of him.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Oh no thanks ma’am,” Spike murmured, “We can’t stay long. We just wanted to talk to you first.”

Buffy cleared her throat, “How much has Sheena told you about what we do at the castle and what she’s learning?”

Sheena’s parents glanced at each other and her mother put her fingers up to her lips, “Oh God, is this about vampires?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Spike huffed, “Just about everything is for us it would seem. But ehh— We really hope not. Giles did a little digging and one of the morgues reported an incident involving a missing body matching your daughter’s description,” Spike said as calmly and gently as he possibly could. It wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

Sheena‘s mother let out a stifled wail, “Oh God, not my baby!”

Buffy interjected, “We don’t know anything for sure yet that’s why we’re here. We need to go look for her. Do you have any recent photos we could use for confirmation?”

“Are you trying to tell us that one of those un-holy beasts took our daughter?” Mr. Anderson asked, his voice growing angry.

Spike looked him right in the eye, “We have reason to believe that she may have—“

“S—spike!” Buffy hissed, giving him a warning look.

He turned towards her, “We agreed they should be warned, yeah?”

“Warned about what?”

Buffy hesitated, “That there is a possibility she could have been turned. We’ve seen it before.”

Mrs Anderson fainted. Spike, who had anticipated such a reaction, was already on his feet and caught her before she could hit the floor.

“Maggie!” Mr. Anderson shrieked as he saw his wife collapse.

Spike picked up the woman in a bridal carry, “Got a place I can sit her down?”

Mr. Anderson nodded blankly, “Just through there, in the sitting room.”

Spike gave him a curt nod and carried her into the room, laying her down carefully on the couch. He came back into the kitchen, “She’ll be fine, good strong pulse. Just a bit of a shock, is all.”

Buffy turned towards the poor man at the table. He looked white as a sheet. He nodded glumly, “What does this mean for our girl? Is there some sort of cure or is she just—“

Spike fought the urge to laugh, “A cure for vampirism? No. Unless you call a stake to the heart a cure. Buffy and I have been doing this a long time.”

“We know vampires, trust me there’s no cure.”

“The person has to die first, that’s how vampires are made. They die. When they wake up all their memories, personality, speech patterns, the whole bloody lot, it's all still there but it’s not them. It’s a demon.”

“So if she has been turned, our daughter is dead and— and what? Her soul— what of her soul? Has she gone on? Is she at peace?”

Spike had to ponder that for a moment, he got his soul back, but from where exactly? He really didn’t know. It’s not like he had a separate set of memories that came along with it or anything, “I really can’t say. It’s a good—“

“Yes,” Buffy interrupted, “The soul does move on.”

Spike turned to her with a questioning look, “Buffy?”

She shook her head, she didn’t really know where it had come from, but somehow she knew it was true. At least to some degree. It probably depended on the person they were to begin with but she wasn’t going to say that. She wasn’t exactly a theologian. “I hum— I just realized something. It can wait. We should get moving,” Buffy stood up, “If Ruby shows up, don’t let her in. If she’s been turned she’ll need an invitation into the house. If she gets in you and your wife are dead and Sheena is an orphan at fifteen.”

Mr. Anderson’s gaze shifted towards the sitting room where his wife was laying on the couch. He nodded sadly, “What do we do?”

“Stay in the house, don’t open the door for anyone but us after dark. Don’t even go out in the yard. Unless Ruby shows up in broad sunlight, don't let her in no matter what she says. Call this number, extension 1,” Buffy handed him her card, “Spike— Mr. Spike and I will take care of it. Can we see that picture please?”

Mr. Anderson went over to a little table by the front door where a family photo sat by a bowl the family used for keys. Buffy and Spike followed him, “We have others but this was taken just before Sheena’s birthday.”

“Thank you,” she said, passing the picture over to Spike. He examined the photo, Ruby and Sheena were standing with their arms around the other’s waist and standing between their parents. A happy family. They looked a lot alike, both girls had sweet heart shaped faces and dark wavy hair.

Outside the cottage Spike lit up a cigarette and turned to Buffy, “Care to tell me what that was all about in there?”

Buffy reached into the car to grab her scythe and gestured her free hand indicating she wanted to take a walk around the property before they left. “I don’t know, really. It’s going to sound kinda crazy but I think I just put together some things I hadn’t before. Like super crazy-deep, floaty-warm-cozy-heaven type things.”

“I’m listening.”

“Exactly!”

Spike cocked his head to the side, “What?”

“I think you were there with me in heaven. Or William-you. Your soul I mean.”

“My– what? How do you figure that one? My soul was in— what? You’re not talking’ sense, Pet.”

“It’s crazy, I know. But I think you were there with me. Well the soul part anyway.”

“And you’re just bringing it up now?”

“I didn't put it together until now. I— I think that’s why I felt so comfortable with you when I came back… Maybe I somehow— I don’t know— maybe I recognized a tiny piece of you, your humanity maybe, or something William-y… and you were so easy to talk to. I think maybe that’s why I couldn’t just leave you alone after you came back to Sunnydale with your soul. Everyone, even you, asked me why I didn’t want you gone, I— I think somehow I was, I dunno… attracted to you… but like in a magnet kind of way.”

“Magnetic souls? And here I thought you just loved me for my body.”

Buffy punched him in the upper arm, “No you didn’t.”

He grinned, “No, I didn’t. But I still don’t get how you just put that together now.”

“I just never thought about it before. He asked the question in there and it just came to me. I know it doesn’t make any sense. It destroyed me when you died. I felt like I was walking around like half a person— it was almost like being ripped out of heaven all over again but without the overwhelming sensory issues— but that feeling went away when you came back.”

They both stopped walking and turned towards each other, “So you’re saying that even the soulful-poncey-William bit of me somehow tracked you down in heaven? Heaven?”

“Yeah, I think so. I— I don’t know. It sounds crazy right?”

He looked at her carefully thinking, then after a moment he shook his head, “Suppose not, Pet, not really. I can’t imagine any part of me not loving you completely. Not now, not after everything we’ve been through. I know my first thoughts after getting my soul back, right after ‘God the pain! Kill me now!’, were all about you. You and the things I did. What I tried to do to you. How I deserved you less than ever when I realized the magnitude of what I’d done. I knew I didn’t deserve you but I had to get back to you. Then the closer I got to Sunnydale, the more jumbled up my brain got, started seeing things, people… The First, obviously. It’s still a bit of a jumble in here at times but it’s a hell of a lot better than it was. Taking time in LA really helped sort a lot of it out.”

“I like the idea that you were there with me in some weird way. Even if you don’t have any memory of it. I know I was loved and I was safe, and I’m pretty sure your soul was part of that somehow. I feel like I get a tiny bit of that back when we’re together. It helps explain a few things about us that didn’t make sense to me for a long time.”

He snorted a puff of cigarette smoke, “You had questions about us? Fancy that.”

“Like you never have? There’s a bunch of poems in that journal of yours that say otherwise.”

“I— Course I have in the past; not so much since Paris.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, “I know you. I know you still have doubts. Mostly about you and your truckload of a century's worth of insecurities. I know they’re not totally about us exactly, but I know you do, sometimes.”

“Bugger, we really are made for each other, you and I.”

“Looks like you were right all along.”

“Bound to be right about at least one thing every century or so.”

Buffy laughed weakly, “Are you picking up on anything out here?”

“Nope.”

“Me either, let’s do a sweep between here and the park and the cemetery, see what turns up.”

Spike nodded once in response, “Lead on Slayer.”

****************

The sweep of the cemetery and the park turned up two vampires but there was no sign of Ruby. They did a second sweep of the Anderson’s property and knocked on the door to check on Sheena’s parents again.

Mr Anderson welcomed them back inside, “Did you find her? Did you find our girl?” he asked as he led them back into the little kitchen.

Mrs Anderson had recovered and was sitting up with a pot of tea. She had a set of rosary beads clutched in her hand as she sipped a cup of tea. Her eyes were red and she looked like a strong breeze might knock her over.

Buffy swallowed painfully at the sight of her, “No, no sign of her yet. I’m sorry. I really wish we had better news for you.”

Mrs Anderson turned watery eyes to her, her voice cracked as she spoke, “W—we u-understand you are doing w-what needs to be done. I just— I can’t get past the idea that something so evil could be walking around in my baby’s b—body,” she choked on the last word and dissolved into fresh sobs.

Her husband went to her wrapping an arm around her, “We know you are doing what must be done but, I— I think perhaps it’s better if you leave. If she turns up we’ll call,” he said quietly looking from his sobbing wife to Buffy and Spike.

“Have you talked to Sheena yet?” Buffy asked.

“She— she called. She insisted we stay inside and— to trust you both. She wants to come home— but— if Ruby really has been turned—“ he shook his head, “Sheena is still so young, she shouldn’t see her sister like— like that.”

Spike dug his hands in his pockets, avoiding their eyes, “Sheena’s a good kid, one of the best. She’s in good hands at the castle.”

“She’s mentioned you Mr Spike, she says you and Miss Summers are exceptionally good at what you do. Killing these beasts.”

“We are, been at it for a good while now.”

He nodded sadly, “I can’t imagine it’s easy work.”

Buffy shrugged, “We do what we have to. But you’re right, some days are a lot harder than others.”

“I can’t imagine the toll it must take on you, or the toll it will eventually take on our Sheena, especially after— after this—-“

“We have a pretty incredible support system, and we’ll help her anyway we can.”

“I’m glad to hear it. God go with you both. If our girl is truly beyond saving; we hope she can at least find eternal rest,” Mr Anderson said softly.

“We’ll see ourselves out,” Spike murmured thickly.

[prose-for-hire]

Bad to the bone

Part One

Pairing: Spike x Giles!reader

Request: Not really requested. Inspired and suggested by the 🏜 Anon !! This is a second part to ‘Bad boy, lunchable reader’ 

Warning: Bit of a rocky relationship with Dad!Giles, mention of reader feeling a kind of abandonment by him.

A/N: I’m not sure how similar reader is to the original fic (can a reader be ooc lol). I just wanted to show the softer side of their relationship despite the people around them being more hostile. It was really nice re-visting this one !! 

You ran, waiting on the kerb rather than in the house. You knew your dad wouldn’t follow you out. Not after that argument. You tried to just ignore what had been said, as if it had never happened.

You waited for the sun to set, knowing he would come for you as soon as he physically could. Your vampire. Ever since he had told you he loved you, you had been completely loved up. And everyone around you appeared to be against you both for it.

Despite it all, you couldn’t help your heart soaring when you saw him approaching on the motorbike that had suddenly come into his possession.

He grinned when he saw you, dismounting the bike as you walked towards him. He pulled you into a deep kiss. It knocked the breath from your body, his tongue meeting yours with a fierce passion. He always did this as soon as he saw you, just couldn’t resist it. Could never resist you.

He gestured for you to join him and you happily started to sit behind him but he paused you, brandishing something you hadn’t noticed what with his distracting kiss.

“On. Not bloody moving ‘til it’s on” He warned, coaxing the helmet into your arms and stared, waiting. When you didn’t put it on he spoke again, “Come on, stole it special didn’t I?” He encouraged softly. It made you smile when his tone softened that way. He only did it for you. You had always known his heart was softer than it appeared.

“Hey! You don’t even wear one, you’re treating me like a baby”

“Humans have skin. Soft, squishy parts. And you got the softest of all, pet” He said tenderly, moving his hand to rest against your upper arm ,as if in appreciation of said skin, “Can’t have you in harm’s way”

“Fine, but only if I can drive on the way back” You warned, putting the helmet on your head.

“Love-”

“If we crash you can do the hero thing, y’know, save me all vampire-style and kissing me”

“Yeah while all your bones are crushed beyond recognition”

“You… you wouldn’t kiss me if I was smushed into the floor?” You pouted, which made him tense his jaw. He loved you, God he loved you, but you didn’t half ask some stupid questions sometimes. You were so soft and unassuming though, you really wanted to hear the answer. He was a sucker for you.

“’Course I would”

“You mean it? You’re not just saying it?!” You laughed, looping your arms around him still stood beside the bike and pressing yourself into him. Almost hitting him with the extra padding around your head. You closed your eyes, so relieved that he was here.

“Just… come on, pet” He gestured behind him, trying to peel your arms from him. You just smiled a little giddily because you were in his presence and tried to press more kisses to his face through the visor. He looked around, making sure Giles or the Slayer wasn’t around. You weren’t listening so his tone changed a little harder, “Get on the bike or I’ll drive away into the sunset”

“Yeah, dust in the wind” You muttered with a pout but moved to sit behind him. He caught it but didn’t say anything.

You were clinging to him, his waist. He loved having you this way, driving you through the streets. Allowing everyone to get a good look that you were his. You leaned against his shoulder, the tension releasing from your shoulders the further you drove away.

You arrived at his crypt, a place you loved. It was a solace. You were able to love freely here. Without anyone’s unwanted opinions or fists getting in the way.

Nobody accepted your relationship and your dad was the worst. You had argued with him again. Just before Spike came to pick you up. It was becoming almost every day now. You wished you could share how much you adored Spike. How happy you were. How he took you to the library and sat there the entire time you were studying. How he offered such loving comfort. How he was there for you without question, without agenda. He was yours.

This is how you had ended up exchanging more infuriating words with your father.

“Look at him, Y/n, for pete’s sake! He’s bad to the bones of him!” He seethed as you tried to mention casually that you were staying over at Spike’s. You didn’t ask permission seeing as you had lived alone for most of your life until you had moved back in with him again.

“Dad, please, just believe me – I love-” You began, trying in earnest to get him to understand.

“You don’t know the bloody meaning of the world, child!”

“I’m an adult, Dad, I’m not your kid anymore!”

“No, I suppose you’re just some stranger I allow to live here rent free”

“I can leave”

“Then you should do so, as quickly as you can” He had said it in the heat of the moment and instantly regretted it. He was driving you further into Spike’s arms and he only comprehended this as his last syllable pierced the air towards you. Leaving you wounded, fleeing the scene.

Spike took your hand softly in his, guiding you through the grave stones and into the crypt he called home. Nobody would ever believe you if you told them how soft his heart was. All they saw was the big, bad vampire that had crashed into Sunnydale.

But he was good, no matter his faults. He was so good to you. He could get violent, you had seen the evidence from the fights he got into. But he would never let you see that. Wanted to protect you, make sure you were always safe.

He had been so close to trying to hurt your Dad recently. Giles had threatened him away from you. Shoving him hard into the wall upon realising he couldn’t fight back. Spike stood and took it. No matter how angry he got. He would have risked the headache if it hadn’t been for you. His way of proving he wasn’t backing away. He wasn’t going to lose you.

Spike hadn’t told you though, didn’t want to see you cry again. He hated to see you cry. Didn’t want to be the reason you were upset. He’d hide it from you, not wanting you to fall out with your Dad again. He knew how much his approval mattered to you.

It soon became apparent, however, that you were already slightly down. He didn’t press you to talk to him, just pulled you into his side. You had settled on the sofa in his crypt. He had cleaned up again, always swept around the crypt and tried to make it look habitable when you were coming over.

Wanted the best for you. Always.

You leant into his chest, not able to hide your frown now. What your Dad had said was finally sinking in. You didn’t know whether to ask Spike if you could stay here. Or whether this would only make things worse.

But this worry began to dissipate with every loving second you shared with him. You loved his jewellery. He often wore a single silver chain around his neck. You twisted your finger to look his necklace. Thinking, brow furrowing lightly now as you did.

He kissed you softly on the forehead before casting his eye back to the tv as he spoke, “Your old man again?” he questioned, knowing your moods as if they were his own. You just nodded, hiding your face. Nestling into the side of his neck.

He wrapped his arms around you protectively. As if he sought to save you from the world outside the crypt.

This is the man that was entirely bad to the bone. The vampire. A killer. But one who would never harm you, hated even a word said against you. Who would defend you even past his last breath. Who would whisper such tender love. Such sweet affirmations. His poet’s heart sung for you. You had found him writing feverishly. About you. For you.

You couldn’t describe it properly, but with him you felt safe. Safer than you ever had before. Despite everything you knew. He had told you his past in excruciating detail. But you still confirmed your love after. Because of the way he was with you. The way he cared. You knew something had shifted within.

He put something on the television as he pressed such tender kisses against your skin, trying to get you back to face him. God, he loved your face. He pressed his lips along your jaw, small kisses making a path of his love.

“Let me make you feel better, love?” He posed the question innocently but his eyebrow was telling you different. He loved to kiss the pain away. he was a big believer in healing through this kind of affection. He always wished to make you feel his love so intimately. He was the typical bad boy but you loved the bones of him.

Spike latched onto your neck, soothing kisses. Hands slowly roaming. He cherished every inch of you, sliding you onto his lap as he pressed further kisses against your skin. Your lips.

Wanted you to know that he was with you. But you never doubted this. His love always surrounded you. Like a quilt. An aura.

Suddenly this soft moment was shattered. This peaceful moment you held in reverence lost. Buffy had dropped in. Again.

“Get off them! Now!” She barked, an obvious disgust written all over her face. It made you both so uncomfortable. You loved so deeply and yet nobody could see through the attitude. The past he wasn’t ashamed of sharing with you despite always worrying about your reaction. You knew it all now and loved him more for it.

You didn’t understand how everyone else hated him so.

“Buffy, what the fuck!?” You muttered, she always brought this reaction from you now. You sprung from Spike who just moved his head a fraction to lazily glare at the slayer.

“Get up, Spike” She scowled at him.

“You can’t just come by unannounced and start slaying! It-it’s like Spike just coming to your house and starting to bite people at random!” You complained.

“He has done that…” Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest, “Twice”

“Oh… right” Your brow furrowed a little, you were still getting used to the vampire thing.

“’S’alright pet, only a nibble. Like when I-” He arched a suggestive eyebrow as a heat ran up your face.

“Do not finish that sentence” Buffy warned before turning to plead to you, “Y/n, you know he’s no good. You know what he is. You don’t have to do this, to disrespect yourself this way”

“Buffy, I love him… he’s my boyfriend”

“Apart from the boy part, oh and the friendly part!” She rolled her eyes, “Come on” she grabbed your wrist and started to pull you away with her.

“Buffy, we’re not friends! You didn’t care to even know me until you found out that I was with Spike. This isn’t about me, it’s about… how you feel”

“No. it’s about you breaking Giles’ heart. Have you seen him lately?” She prodded, her tone turning harsh. She had tried to be understanding, played the concerned friend but she had given up.

She couldn’t understand liking Spike without hating yourself for it. Without treating affection as a transaction. He’s a demon. He had done horrible things and appeared to her to have no redeeming qualities. Apart from, admittedly, the fact that he was kind of attractive. Only in the right lighting, obviously.

“Yeah, I saw him thirty minutes ago when he threw me out of his house” You replied firmly. Your softness gone as she had made your life her business. Again. Buffy was so shocked she dropped your wrist.

Spike instantly got to his feet and moved swiftly to your side. His hand on you, he knew what this meant. He knew this would hurt you so much. You had felt distant with Giles for a long time, he moved away to basically raise some other kid. And left you behind. And now this was happening all over again.

You felt abandoned. Like he had created an entirely new family right here. Not made of blood but with the young people he helped all of the time. It was a secret he had kept from you and they had all been in on it. How could your own father make you feel like you were an outsider in your own home?

Spike’s hand was soothing on the small of your back. His eyes only on you. Sensitive to every minute inflection of emotion on your face. His expression held such understanding. Buffy looked between you, faltering only slightly before righting her face. He really did appear to love you. On the surface at least. His eyes didn’t move from you, his eyes glassy as he felt your emotions almost as strongly as you did.

He couldn’t help that swell of hope that you would move in with him though. No matter how concerned he was for you and your troubles, he was overjoyed that you might want to stay with him. To have you, by his side even in the day. To be close to you. Domesticity that he pretended he didn’t crave when you were around.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…” Buffy offered. It was sincere. Of all the things she knew about Giles, she hadn’t expected him to parent like this. It was harsh, much harsher than he was on her even. She appeared to soften, want to offer a hand of friendship.

But Spike was already ushering her out of the door without her so much as collecting up her thoughts before she left. He hurled some choice insults out of the door with her before slamming the door shut.

He immediately moved to your side. Closing the space between you and allowing you to lean against him. He cradled your head whispering hushed assurances. That he would never leave you. That he would always look out for you even if everyone else turned from you. Which was exactly what it had felt like.

He knew this, knew your own thoughts as if they were his own. He didn’t like to admit it, although it was evident to you in abundance, but he was so soft for you. Especially when you were alone this way and you needed him. He was so comforting the gentle nature he shared with you almost made you cry. He continued to reassure you and held you to him through the night.

He wasn’t able to bite back any comments he had on your Dad, ones he had held inside for a while. He had never really liked that man.

Spike, this man who was so bad to the bone was your only comfort. All he wanted was for you to be happy, no matter what. He was soft with you where nobody else had been. He lifted you up, helped you carry on. He was yours.

You did move in with him after this, spending time together. It only made your relationship stronger.

You would make up with your Dad eventually. At your college graduation. He felt guilty, you had very rarely spoken to him since he told you to leave. He was protective, despite you having spent a large portion of your life looking after yourself.

He would never approve of your relationship with Spike fully, despite his assurance that he would never stop loving you because of it. He apologised though for his behaviour, something you hadn’t recalled him saying to you often. And something else.

“I’m proud of you, Y/n” He said, a hand patted yours. Your gasp audible. He had never said that to you before. It had honestly been all you had wanted to hear from him.

You still returned home to Spike though. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. He wished so badly he could have been there but it was the middle of the day. He showed you just how pleased he was for you either way when you returned. He was so supportive, even if you hadn’t made up with your father, Spike was all that you needed.

It wasn’t a fleeting love, you were his. For life.

[wordynerdygurl]

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[yourdeepestfathoms]

i have been working religiously on my book, so here is another part for y’all!

— — —

“I’m sorry, Mister Proctor,” Mary whispered as they approached Proctor’s horse.

“For a mouse that squeals and cries as loudly as you do during punishments, you sure love doing things that will warrant such treatment,” Proctor said.

Mary lowered her head. It still hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. Help me onto my horse.”

Mary obeyed.

“Do try to keep up. I don’t want to be waiting on you. A storm is coming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor was right: a storm was coming, and it hit with the regular ferocity of a Massachusetts winter tempest. Now she understood why Proctor was wearing so many layers.

By the time they were halfway to the farm, Mary was completely soaked and shivering, the cold having crept deep into her bones, turning them into rods of ice. She wondered if this freezing rain had been sent by God Himself to punish her for her wrongdoings. It certainly felt like a lashing from the Lord.

“You could have been back inside by now,” Proctor mused atop his steed. Mary could barely hear him over the crunching of gravel and pattering of rain. “But instead you had to go galavant through Salem.”

“I was worried about my friends,” Mary said, daring to defend herself.

Proctor scoffed but didn’t say anything.

In the distance, a farm swam through the sheets of icy rain. It wasn’t the Proctor property, so there was no point in stopping, but someone called out to them anyway.

“Ah, John! Have you come to accuse me some more? If you haven’t noticed, it’s raining. I can’t set anything on fire in this weather.”

Proctor ground his teeth. “I already apologized to you for that.”

“And yet, here we are!”

There was an old man leaning on the fence bordering the property, white hair clinging to a balding scalp, deep blue eyes sparking with mischief in the half-light. He had a wrinkly lizard’s face and hands more befitting for a skeleton. Despite his age, Mary knew he had enough vigor to best any of the younger men in the village. She heard he once beat a burglar to death with a cane. He was a lot of vex and a little well-mannered, and he loved nothing more than to irritate the people of Salem Village, especially John Proctor.

“It would be a shame if this would be the year your land floods, John,” Giles Corey said. No person in their right mind would be out in this storm; he had definitely been waiting for Proctor to go down the road so he could prod him. He would risk getting ill if it meant he was able to dig under the younger farmer’s skin.

“If this is some kind of attempt to get the deed to my farm, then you can save it,” Proctor said, spurring his horse into motion again. “I’ve heard it all, Giles.”

Corey huffed. His expression brightened once again when he noticed Mary holding onto the saddle.

“Ah, Mary Warren! How are you, dearest? Is the back of your head alright?”

Proctor was quick to step in: “Don’t talk to her,” he snapped at Corey. Then, to Mary, “Don’t talk to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to kill that girl, John!” Corey shouted after them. “If you ever need a place to flee to, Mary Warren, Martha and I are willing to take a servant!”

His words were washed away by the rain, but they remained rooted inside of Mary’s brain. If only she could switch employers. If she weren’t an indentured servant, she would have gone to the Putnam’s a long time to work with Mercy. Maybe then every day wouldn’t be such a pain.

And speaking of pain…

Mary winced, tentatively touching the back of her head. She couldn’t tell if the dampness she was feeling was blood or just rainwater. Didn’t matter now. She dropped her arm.

Above her, Proctor was muttering in his saddle, casting a dark look at the road in front of him. He said something about Giles Corey and something else about the farm and something else about wanting to rip out the old man’s gizzard. He seemed awfully worked up about the confrontation.

“If I may, sir…”

Proctor looked down at her, eyes narrowed. Mary nearly stopped talking right then and there, but she swallowed her nerves and continued on.

“If Mister Corey is such a bother to you, why not do more to stop him?”

“Are you lame, girl?” Proctor snapped. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all this time? Ever since the fire, he’s been a thorn in my side.”

The fire referred to a fire that started in Proctor’s house, a time before Mary went to work with his family, which she was grateful for because she wouldn’t have been able to handle that drama. Naturally, Proctor said Corey was responsible for the fire, which made Corey file a lawsuit against Proctor. Later, one of Proctor’s sons would come forward and admit to being the one to cause the fire. Proctor begrudgingly apologized, but that didn’t stop Corey from continuously bringing it up whenever he got the chance.

“Why do you bring it up?” Proctor then asked. “What would YOU do? Since you think you’re so clever.”

“Me? Well, I-- I, uhh… Maybe raise the price on the land? Make it to where it would be too expensive for him to want to buy.”

Proctor opened, then closed his mouth. Then, he squinted at her. Finally, he actually laughed and took off his broad-brimmed hat, batting her over the head with it.

“I guess you aren’t so stupid after all,” he said affectionately. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Mary cracked a small smile. The bad outweighed the good when it came to her master, but she knew John Proctor wasn’t all cruelty and lashings. He had a strong softness for all of his children and a deep love for his wife. Sometimes Mary would hear him reading light-hearted Bible stories to his younger kids at night. Sometimes she would stand outside the room and listen.

Through the glistening shroud of mist and drizzle at the side of the road, the Proctor property unfolded from the fog like a proper country castle. Acres upon acres of emerald green grass, sturdy barns, a fine house, fields chock full of crops and livestock. Their cattle were fat and happy, slick with rain, water streaming from their round bellies and mud splashing up from each delicate footstep. It darkened their coats and made them look like they were soaked in blood. It was no wonder why Giles Corey wanted the land so badly. It was thriving with wealth.

“Put my horse away,” Proctor said after sliding off the chestnut stallion’s back. “Tack him. Then come inside immediately. Do not run off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Proctor gave her one last warning stare, then handed her the reins and walked to the house.

Mary would have taken her sweet time putting away the horse if it weren’t for the fact that she was freezing and her head was killing her. She tacked the stallion, put him into his stall, and fed him in record time, ready to get inside and change out of her wet clothes. However, when she finally entered the house, she didn’t get to do that. She was stopped by her master and mistress.

Proctor and Elizabeth were speaking to each other, but Mary could tell they were arguing, despite their level tones. They both turned to her when she stepped inside. Proctor was already in dry clothes, standing beside the roaring hearth. The flames looked so comforting and warm.

“Stay where you are,” Proctor ordered, noticing her desire to go to the fire.

“Yes, sir.”

“I understand she is in trouble, but at least let her warm up,” Elizabeth said.

Elizabeth Proctor had always been Mary’s favorite Proctor. Twenty-two years her husband’s her junior, though she looked a lot younger than that, she was kind and patient, never using the whip and rarely ever raising her voice. She wore dresses in soft shades, greatly mirroring her soothing nature; right now she was wearing a pale green gown with a white apron. Her hair was champagne blonde and her eyes were a pretty hazel with flecks of gold near the pupils. Mary craved her warm, maternal gaze so much it was almost painful.

“No,” Proctor said. “This is a part of her punishment.”

“She is going to freeze. Do you want our servant to freeze, John? Then what shall we do?”

“Get a better servant, perhaps? One that won’t run off?” He shot a glare at Mary, reminding her that he was, in fact, still mad about that, in case she had forgotten. She hadn’t.

So much for their moment on the road.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then sighed. She looked at Mary. “Yes, you should not have run off. You aren’t allowed to go anywhere without our permission. You know that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry.” Always obedient, always agreeable. Mary knew her place.

“Why did you leave?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mercy came to see me, ma’am,” Mary answered. She didn’t want to throw her friend to the crows, but she also knew better than to not be dishonest, especially when she was already in trouble. “We wanted to go check on Abby and Betty. We heard that they weren’t well.”

“I heard that, too,” Elizabeth nodded slowly. “How are they?”

“Strange. They slept like the dead, but woke up out of nowhere and started screaming. Betty tried to jump out of the window!”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Did she?”

“That is none of our concern right now,” Proctor growled, butting his way back in. “This disobedience cannot go unpunished.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Yes…I suppose you’re right. I say no dinner tonight.”

Proctor rolled his eyes. “You coddle her, Elizabeth.”

“I do not coddle her!”

Ignoring his wife, Proctor looked at Mary, “Fetch me a switch.”

Mary released the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Her heart leapt out from the pit in her stomach. She nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

[elliewritessometimes]

hi! i have Returned™ with a prompt from the lovely @notsomightymightytiger that has been sat in my inbox for well over two months oops im sorry-

the prompts relate to a hospital au and a sick/injury fic and i hope this is okay!!! love you kiera <3

tw: hospitals, injury, sickness it's all fairly minor though there's nothing at all graphic but do be careful take care lovelies

-

Eva Sanchez, in all her eleven year old glory, was more than used to hospitals. Sometimes, old people (in her mind, anyone over the age of 27) would be "so awfully sad" over the weeks she'd spent in a ward. But, to Eva, it was kind of normal. It wasn't exactly fun, but it was her life and she was fine with it.

Tonight, she couldn't sleep.

Earlier, this kid probably about Eva's age had come in, all bruised circles under eyes and rude words towards the nurses. Eva had listened over the gentle chatter of her own grandmother as the dark-haired girl had spoken in a voice filled with hurt to a tall couple who must have been her parents. If she strained her ears over the buzzing of a children's ward, she could hear the angry whispers between the adults and child, before this sour-mouthed, lonely patient had been left alone overnight, refusing comfort from Eva's favourite nurses. Eva felt like she should have been repulsed by this outwardly spiteful girl, but instead she was only curious, sneaking glances at her between curtains as though her eyes were magnetised to theirs.

She was pretty.

Eva liked their eyes.

For once, the ward was quiet. Eva's mother slept in a tiny put-up bed beside hers and once again her drowsy but not yet sleepy mind was focused on the angry patient from earlier. She wondered if their parents had come back or if she was still alone across the room.

Maybe she was a little delirious, or still suffering the after effects of her earlier treatment, but Eva found herself desperately struggling out from bed, pulling a blanket down with her and shuffling as quietly as possible across the ward to the other girl's bed. It was naughty and against all the rules, but Eva knew that if she wanted to sleep tonight, she had to know that the kid was okay.

She slipped past the curtain, trying to be as quiet as possible. Obviously, that didn't work.

"Hello."

Eva jumped, spinning around to see as her target leant up in bed, a hand steadying her head. "Hi, sorry, I- I just wanted to check- I mean, I don't even know you, but- I thought-"

She stopped rambling, taking a breath before beginning again. "I'm Eva."

"Kate." The girl - Kate - raised her eyebrows. "Who are you?"

"I'm on the ward too. I saw you arrive." Eva's feet were getting cold.

"Oh. You were watching me," said Kate, filterless.

"Yeah, your parents seemed kinda mad," Eva replied, also filterless. "I came over 'cause I was a bit worried."

"I'm fine."

Eva's heart dropped. She'd expected to feel a little more wanted. With a sigh, she turned to go back to bed. "Oh. Okay, then. Bye."

She tiptoed away, just closing Kate's curtain again when - "Wait! Eva, no, come back!" Kate's voice was a hushed shout. Eva spun around, narrowing her eyes until they continued. "I didn't mean go."

"Oh." Eva paused at the curtain, narrowing her eyes. Her head span a little, maybe from illness, maybe from the sudden change in attitude from Kate. "Okay."

"Sorry."

"Are you okay?"

Kate only nodded.

Still leaning a little on the curtain, Eva decided to change the subject, "Why were your parents so mean?"

Kate shrugged. "They got mad because I got a concussion. Apparently, it's my fault that this girl at gymnastics made me jump so I slipped and bashed my head in." They rubbed their head where they'd hit it, wincing a little before shaking it off to continue. "My brother says our parents just suck anyway. And he should know 'cause he's sixteen."

Eva nodded sagely; sixteen was almost an adult. She thought that she would know everything there was to know when she was sixteen.

"Anyway," Kate continued speaking. Apparently she was chatty once you got her going. Eva liked this about them - it was nice to not have to be the one doing all the talking. "Why are you here?"

"I'm sick." Eva didn't expand on it, overtaken with tiredness suddenly. "I'm here a lot."

Kate squinted suspiciously at her. "Oh. Fair enough." The squinting increased, enough so Eva could see the wheels turning in their head. Eva almost turned and left to prevent the inevitable questioning. Shockingly, it didn't come. Instead, Kate got slowly out of bed, padding across the floor to put a hand at Eva's elbow. "You're shaking."

Eva's brain short-circuited over Kate's acceptance and lack of inquiry. She opened her mouth to protest, before closing it again and taking a breath. She was, in fact, shivering. "You know when you've been awake for so long that every time you yawn, you start shaking?" She waited for Kate to nod. "That's me right now."

Kate smiled, slipping their hand into hers. "Come on." Together, they slowly made their way over to Kate's bed, slipping under the covers.

Eva yawned, prompting another roll of shivers, subconsciously tightening her grasp on Kate's hand as she did so. Trying not to put too much pressure on her sore head, Kate tilted their head towards the other girl. "This is weird."

"Yeah." Happily content that her worries from earlier were unfounded, Eva really wanted to go to sleep now. She fought to keep her eyes open, grinning when Kate giggled.

"You're so tired!" Kate obviously wasn't.

"Mhm."

"Don't go to sleep yet. You can't come over here, wake me up, get in my bed, and then go straight to sleep." She could hear them pout. "That's unfair." Eva hummed a vague response. "I'm gonna be here for all of tomorrow according to the doctor and you're here all the time, so tell me something that'll make it better."

Eva blinked open one eye. "Okay. Sure." She thought for a while. "I have these tiger toys called Giles and Corey. My tía got them for me when I first got sick to remind me to eat and drink enough." Closing her eye again, she gestured in the direction of her bed. "The ginger one is Giles, he reminds me to drink water in case I forget. The other one, the black one, is Corey-" She was cut off by a yawn.

Kate grinned sleepily. "That's so cool. I think you're cool."

"Thanks." Eva shoved her face deeper into the pillow to hide her smile. "You're cool too."

"What does Corey do?" Despite their head injury and earlier angry demeanor, Kate was surprisingly animated over these two cuddly toys. "Oooh! Does he have superpowers??? Can they fly?"

Eva laughed, "No... Corey just reminds me to eat my meals."

"Wow." Eva's yawn caught up to Kate. "You gotta show me them tomorrow." She closed her eyes along with Eva, still holding her hand under the duvet. "My parents are gonna see that I can have a concussion and still be fabulous."

"Hell yeah, you can." Shivering still, Eva shuffled closer. "We're gonna be the most fabulous friends ever."

[idjitlili]

You're dead lachance.

Spike btvs x reader

Summary: Being Giles niece, going to America with him, only to meet Spike. There is anonymous request in here, 'getting locked in a room with Spike.'

A/n: slightly in Sundale , but mostly based in Los Angeles, the reader is British, due to being related to Giles. Hey, that's good for me , I'm British too. There's a request from anon but I'm not going to say to keep it a surprise. Malteser is a chocolate ball. How come I can write this much now? But I've got assignment s at are only 2000k words.

Word count:5019 Longest imagine yet.

Warnings: Language, Twilight hate references,period, questioning if vampires eat that answer is no or unconfirmed.

Not even a week ago, you had came home , only for your parental figure to rush to the door to greet you. Not long after that you were packing your suitcase for America , apparently your uncle Rupert had invited you out there. It had quite literally been years seen you had seen him, but not long until you would again.

In fact , it hadn't been even twenty four hours , before you were stood in his magic store. You weren't even sure why Rupert had brought you here. The suitcase that held your belongings , stood at your feet as Rupert  had welcomed you in, unlike your uncle had expected , the shop was completely empty, people wise.

Forced to sit down, while Rupert  made you a tea,informing you that he would get you settled at his home once he finished closing up his shop. What it felt like hours to you ,waiting, deciding it was best to read the book you had brought with you, not that you could really concentrate you just wanted to get cleaned up , in honesty.

Fingers tapping against the pine table , trying to read Boromir's last moments in Lord of the rings, re reading the same paragraph over , and over. "I tried to take the Ring from Frodo ' , he glance strayed to his fallen enemies,20." Re reading those words same words, unable to comprehend them, like your brain was blocked by a tinfoil hat, that's bullshit. Three arrows he had been struck with, yet he was still able to kill twenty highly trained orcs , more than an average vampire could do.

You were no stranger to vampires , you hadn't encountered one to say, but you knew of Rupert  job as a watcher. Though you had watched Lord of the rings many times (or not it's just replace it) and yet you still couldn't pass it , didn't Rupert have workers to clean his shop? Repeating those words , still. "Hello ,love." You almost peed yourself , standing up abruptly launching your book at the thing that had pulled you out of your distracted book reading.

Bragging your lighter from your pocket, self defence lighter, holding in front of you. As the flame lit,lifting your head up at your 'attacker' , only to be met with a smirk and platinum leather wearing man, who had caught your book with ease. "Really a lighter?" British, you had not spoken to one American , since landing.

You had just continued to stare at him not quite certain what to say, until he did again. "So , Boromir ,hm?"  You hadn't notice him step forward , holding your book for you to take back, hesitating you took it from him slowly. "Uh, yes. Thank you,but ,um, who are you?"

"Spike, and you are?"Who names there son after a sharp object? Spike had smugly smiled , placing his in his trouser pockets, it was if he was proud. You didn't get a chance to respond to Spike, before Rupert had reappeared , standing between you and Spike.

"Spike , get away from my niece, I will not allow you to corrupt her." Spike had gasped dramatically, putting his had over his mouth ,"You're related to him? But Blimey he's all ARGH and you're not." Spikes face of disgust when he looked at your uncle, Rupert had removed his glasses and began cleaning his glasses.

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" Picking up your bags , as Rupert ushered Spike out of the shop, with you behind to lock up, it now being dark.  "It was lovely to meet you , Giles attractive niece.." "Y/n." "Y/n.." Repeating your name back slowly smiling , only if you knew he was an evil defective vampire.

"Quit the flirting Spike, she's not going to be here long." That was the last you saw of Spike , for now anyways. It wasn't even another 24 hours later , your uncle had sent you off to Los Angeles , to Wesley at Wolfram & Hart.

Wesley...you had seen him in years , since he left England. You being younger than him by some years , but you had been friends with him , being connected to Giles and all. You were brought to America to work for an evil law firm not your ideal future.

That was a year ago , not as bad as you had originally thought, Angel the CEO was indeed broody but he was trying to make a difference. In fact , the job paid very well, and all you did really read up on demons and sometimes view bodies for symbols and such.

Perhaps,yes, it did get quite lonely, it  wasn't like you had you mum to make you meals or anything. All you could have was calls from her now and then. Wesley was your friend; but he was too busy flirting with Fred. The others well, you weren't close friends, just friends.

Today was not a great day for you, first you had gotten to work  without lunch, forgotten a jacket, and Angel scheduled a meeting but you had fallen down the stairs three times. Ten minutes late, a huge bruise on your head , ruffled hair and clothing not looking very bodacious.

Knocking on the door to Angel's office three times gently , before waiting for his response to allow you in. Everyone staring at you , your face flushed with embarrassment. "I-I'm so sorry, you won't believe today has been horrible, I wouldn't have been late if I hadn't of fallen down the same stairs three times."

Heavily breathing from all the rushing, head aching like you had just hit your head falling down the stairs, Angel and the others looking at you with slight sympathy. "I've got to get a look at this muppet." That voice, you knew that that voice, until Spike had appeared from the corner of the meeting room , as you and Angel were about to walk into the room.

Almost bumping into Spike as you and him both met the door at the same time. You two would've bumped right into each other, but he passed right though you. Turning back around to see if you imagined that or not, turns out you didn't Spike was stood in front you , looking at you , with gaped mouth which didn't last long until he was smiling.

"W-what?H-how did y-" "Nice to see you again , love. Well, not long after you left I saved the world, and died. No need to thank me , love," Angel had coughed , pulling your attention from Spike charming smile he was sending your way, to him gesturing you to sit.

Spike had not decided to sit down , but to stand behind Angel at an Angel, one to annoy Angel which you could already see in his face , two to be in eye range of you. Not that he liked you , he full loved Buffy, for now anyways.

Angel had officially began the meeting , head-aching still, probably why you couldn't concentrate, concussion. All you could think was , wow Casper the friendly ghost, well you didn't know he wasn't , and that he was a vampire.

So lost in thought ,well no just pain , you didn't hear the calling of your name or snapping of fingers in front of your open eyes.

"Y/n? Y/n?" Only when there is a touch of a small hand on your shoulder , you realise , looking up to see Fred. "Yes, sorry. Um , I hit my head a bit too hard."

"Angel , she needs to go to a doctor. Her head is literally bleeding out , ""Yeah you should've sent her straight away, she fell down the fucking stairs, for a vampire with a soul , you have no compassion." Spike had interrupted Wesley, to criticise Angel.

You had a couple of days off last week , to visit your family, hence you hadn't seen Spike there before that. You had fallen off your chair when you had felt a hand on your shoulder, moving to see if that was Angel or Lorne, but it wasn't.

"Already on your knees for me?" Spike, staring down at you , smirking what a shock. "I'm not even on my knees, I'm on my butt. Plus what you want me to do mime."

"Okay, okay, Hon, let's go take to a doctor." Lorne had helped you up, as Spike had smiled Wider, as you both left, with some calls of sympathy's.

You only had to have you bloody head , in your hairline glued back together. Not surprising when there was blood dripping down your face like a waterfall. Other than that you were back the next day, carrying on your week like you would normally would.

Each week that went by Spike would come visit your office, mostly at lunch, knowing you didn't leave your office to socialise, only to use the bathroom. It had started with him using the excuse that he wanted to see how you were doing , after falling down the stairs, which was quite hard to believe,as he didn't seem like the caring type.

Then it he came to your office to tell you stories  about him saving the world and just recently , almost being killed by another ghost.

You hadn't even seen that when he entered your office he used the door by turning the handle, instead of going through it. Not at least until he had spooked you again ,placing his hand your shoulder squeezing it slightly.  Falling again out of you chair, probably would've smacked the back of your head on your desk.

If you weren't grabbed by your forearms, and were lifted back onto your feet, by rough hands... Spike had scared you to death again, yet this time he had saved your fall.  Pulling a arm from his, looking into his eyes, as you brought your hand to his cheek, your finger tips against his cheek bone. His skin soft, not how you would've imagined.

Cold.

His skin, cold , but now he isn't a ghost? So why does he feel like the other side of the pillow on a summer night. Moments go by ,not many , before you pulled away again. "Fred , s-she figured out how to bring y-you back?" Still wondering why he felt like ice,  also to hide the embarrassment that you had touched his face without asking.

"No, someone sent me some post,"  The distance between you two was more than close, your legs pressed against your desk, Spike's face barely inches away, he must've closed in on you. "Oh lovely,um have you had anything to eat yet?" He had smiled at you , with lust in glittering in his eyes , but not for what you might think, but hunger.

"I have not." Don't turn Edward ,please, no one wants that ,'Oh I'm sorry Bella but you might die if we fuck, because of my huge Thanos sized dick.' "Oh , well I've got , um, some sandwiches, that's if you want to share." You had gently made your way passed Spike as he nodded slightly suggesting we would share, to get into your bag, reaching for your lunch bag.

Both sitting at the sofa in your handing Spike a sandwich, as you held yours, facing each other, sitting on your calves, well Spike couldn't do that , if you know what you mean. Not long after you had reached for your flask , pouring it into your cup. "Tea?" Spike had grabbed the cup from your hand, drinking a fair lot down, before handing it back to you, mixture of crumbs and tea around his mouth. "You know how to make good tea, not those bloody Americans , milk first , bloody bullshit."

Before anything was said, Lorne had burst into the room , panic washed over his face. "Angel needs you both , quick honeys! We don't have time to spare." To say the least you were confused , never less you all headed to Angel's office and soon enough you were all, Angel, Spike, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne were driving to a safe house. 'A rescue mission.' Apparently, you didn't even know who you were supposed to rescue, all you knew was you was all supposed to stay here until they arrived.

Sounded fishy , and you were right to think so, not long after you all discovered it was a trap. Probably just about a hundred vampires, were lurking around the property, waiting...

The floors creaking as you all walked across the the pine wood hallway, not to mention you had barely any fighting stills, all you held was a stake. The others well that ways a mixture of axes , and stakes. Sorry not only vampires in this house, spirits too. Spike had paired off with you , whilst the others did the same , you both walked into a bedroom, which was thick with mould and dust.

Not even one step in the door had slammed shut, Spike had immediately tried the door body slamming against , but it was no use. As you made your way to the window, "Spike.." BANG still going at the door , "SPIKE." Whisper shouting to him, gesturing for him to come over , once he had heard you.

"Vampires..." pulling you away from the window, out of sight." We need to get out of here, now."

"Where? we can't get out of here." Looking around the room there was no options. You don't even get to take a breath ; before the window is smashed in as well of the door, you are both completely circled , 7 vampires.  Before you know it they are lunged for you , gripping your stake tightly , as you fight  a vampire off , with struggle , god damnit. Where's David from lost boys, instead you are stuck with one that's never brushed it's teeth.

Finally stabbing it in the heart. Proof another one bites the dust. Now there was even more dust in this house. The rest of the vampires were dead, you didn't realise that Spike had taken on the rest with no struggle, turning to face you after dusting the last one, his face,his face. He was one of them, he had been dead this whole time , even when he was brought back.

"Y-you're a vampire?" Shocked was to say the least what you were feeling , he had turned back laughing lightly.

"What were you expecting? The Easter bunny?Did you think I was human? This whole time, oh love." It wasn't that you felt like you trusted him less after finding out but still, you're an idiot, no you are not.  "I thought you were because you are my food; Plus I thought vampires were evil?"

"I wasn't going to refuse a sandwich. I have Soul, love. For your information, I got it the hard way, not like that brooding bugger."

"Sorry, Can we go now?" Thus Spike tried the door again, it had opened, both of you rushed out and down the stars , out the doors to find the others in the car waiting , like it was a robbery.

Your lunches with Spike continued even months after finding out he was a vampire; yet now you packed enough lunch for the two of you. Though he could just have his blood, but no he wanted your food. In honesty he was lucky that you actually shared your food with him.

You were sure that Spike must've preferred the company of Fred over you, and there was a day that he didn't have lunch with you. Apparently he had went to see Buffy , yet he was back the next day, why he hadn't stayed with the woman he loved , that was unknown to you. Thus there he was having lunch with you everyday you were at work.

You had even watched Lost boys with him one lunch. "You think I'm like that ponce?" Why the offices had TVs you had no idea. You had told Spike that he had reminded you of David. "W-what, It's not that hard to believe , first both of you have cool hair , two he is evil but the evil that you're like wow he's not that bad , he's cute and maybe he not what he seems. Like Loki, God of mischief." Spike had scoffed, laughing slightly.

"Did you just call me cute? I'm bad , I'm evil, mortals quiver under my wrath." He had made a toothy scrunched face , whilst bringing his hands up like he was a bear attacking, only to make you grin harder. "Okay, now you are a kinky Loki 'quiver under my wrath' seriously?"

"And how would you know what's kinky, love?" His words delivered with a smirk , that made your cheeks redden just by his gaze. "Uh,um, well I read a lot- I MEAN I do stuff all the time like last night.. he had a cane."

"Oh really, he had a cane?"

"Yep thats correct."

"Well that's a shame, love , because I've seen you face stuck in your books , blushing... and I can smell the innocence radiating off of you."

"Hey! Don't go smelling that, so you're telling me that when I have my period you can smell that too? You know what don't answer that, nor do I want to know if you've ever eaten that. Nor do I want to know why I thought of that.." Throwing a Malteser at him, would've hit him if he hadn't caught it in his mouth. 

"I cannot believe you just said that. Love, you have too much time over thinking."

"No doubt , that's why I was never popular , let's pretend I never said that thing and only that compared you to David and Loki, hm?"

"Of course, I wish you hadn't given me the idea,joking I swear."

"Uh, I don't know if you like men or not but when the male part is erected it's one of the most blood filled appendages plus I looked you up, William the bloody, maybe that's how you got your name.." Yes maybe you spent more than your lunch hour not doing work, sitting cross legged now facing Spike completely , who just had turned his upper body from the tv.

Angel though, you'd think he was just happy , happy that Spike wasn't in his office constantly annoying him. It wasn't easy for anyone to keep Spike entertained. "I do not suck cocks nor have I ever , love, I have nothing against those that do,but I assure you that my terrible poetry is the only reason for the name, "

"Nothing to do with you killing hundreds of people?"

"Oh yeah, that too." Nothing more was spoken, you both had went back watching until lunch was over, then you were back to work. By five you had left to go home , not even two hours later you had realised you had left your house keys in your office. You had went to the shops, for some general stuff , hence why you hadn't realised you had left your keys.

Making it back to Wolfram & Hart , around nine o'clock, deciding to get some food , for after you got your keys and got home finally. The security man, Dean, had let you , well no he had was turned doing something and you slipped in, the rest of the firm was dark , everyone had left, or that's what you had thought.

Opening your office door, with your key, why you had it separated from your house key , you don't know , but it was lucky you had one set otherwise someone could've went through your stuff. Well there wasn't much really interesting, ancient books and such. Rushing to your desk in the dark searching everywhere , under your desk, in the draws, the floor.

Finally finding them down the side of the sofa , which you were sat at with Spike, watching Lost boys. When the door swings open , you are quickly grabbed by the foreman's and are shoved against the wall."what are doing here?" The mans voice, aggressive, yet you know who it belonged to, Spike. No very difficult to figure out as you spent at least an hour with him , five times a week, for months.

"Uh, I just left my keys." Spikes grip had loosened on your arms slightly. " Y/n?" Pushing him off of you,"yes, yes it's me , thanks for attacking me, " It was pitch black in your office , only the light from the moon , now on your face , part of it anyways.

"Well, Bloody hell, love you shouldn't be in an evil law firm by your lonesome , especially at night."

"What you are going to eat me now?" Spike wasn't even a foot away; if he was a live you'd feel his breath on your face. Instead the cold air surrounded you, Spikes arm above your head closing you in, only being able to look at his face , an outline of it. "Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you,pet?" You had scoffed lightly at him.

"Shut up, my foods getting cold , and I don't like it in here." Ducking under Spikes arm, grabbing your food and key, before making your way out your office and the building. Spike following you ,but the security guard was gone and the door was locked , no way out.

"Well isn't that bloody brilliant."

"There's no way we are getting out of here , till morning ,"

"Can't we call someone?"

"I don't know , do you have anyone's number?" That was it , you both had headed back to your office , found some candle, since the electricity had been turned off, at on the floor with your food. You weren't sure why he decided to stay with you , maybe it was just that you had food.

Your back against the sofa , as you both ate , you were in no doubt that you were talking tomorrow off. You knew you or Spike was going to have to sleep on the sofa, ah yes perfect, back pains. "Why were you here so late anyways?" After finishing your mouthful of food, why Spike would want to lurk here at night , that was unknown.

"Just snooping through Angels stuff, then I heard you, so."

"Ah, of course." Smirking at you , leaning back his palms behind him, sideways on from you, uh , you're not Ryan Reynolds? Actual um, sorry but you're hotter. Your food all gone , except the small amount of drink left.

"Honestly this couldn't be a better day, my keys fell down the side of the sofa , and I didn't realise until I went home. Then this happened , and now we are stuck here, when I could be at home, sleeping."

"It's not so bad, you could've been stuck here with Angel, love."

" You really don't like Angel, I'm not surprised he makes small problems seem unsolvable. Yet within a couple of hours , all is fine. Actually that sounds a lot like me, over thinking everything. But yeah Angels is a bit of an arse."

Spike only smirking at you, in return.

Glancing at your watch , 12:03 , you were only lucky that Spike was able to pick the lock on the toilets. Otherwise you don't know what you would've done, ah yes, peeing yourself in front a rather good looking , dead man. Leaving your office to go pee again , before returning rubbing your eyes as you walked through the door.

"Are you going to get some sleep, love?" Spike had cleaned up all the rubbish, throwing it all away, you wouldn't expect that from dead guy, former mummy's boy. "Uh, if the sofa wasn't built like a rock, yes , but since that's the case no." Settling back onto the floor, careful not to catch on fire, as you crossed passed some of candles.

Instead of Spike replying yet , he had stood up and made his way to the sofa , plopping himself onto it, with poof. "You got to be joking love , you clearly never have lived in a crypt." W h at was it wish vampires living in crypts , or complaining that their huge cold dick will spilt a human in half. Turning to face the sofa, not being able to see Spike, letting out a dry laugh.

"Yeah that doesn't convince me, are you just so old that you don't remember that every day at lunch that I sit on that sofa with you?" Spike had sat up to look at you with a glare ,yet again scoffing. "Well then , Pet, how about you come lay on me, I'm very comfortable."

Without thought you had gotten up , and thrown yourself onto Spike, both groaning as your back slammed into Spikes chest. He was lucky really that your butt bone , not tail bone, the top of your leg one, didn't smash into his parts. Instead he had wrapped around you so you were stuck in place. "I see what you are doing."

"And what is that?"

"I body slammed you, now you're cuddling with me? Mental , you're an ice cube, yeahh sureeee so comfortable, I love being engulfed by Vanilla ice."  Not that he looked much like Vanilla ice but it's a little funny, not really but.

"Hey, I won't stand to be your cushion , with your bullying."

"Didn't you kill hundreds of people? And you get defensive when I call you Robert van Wrinkle?" Turning your head to look up to Spike who was looking down on you, shuffling so that you were laying next to the sofa back and on Spike with your hand on his chest.

"Love,I'll eat you, try sleep." This isn't a Loki imagine when he kidnaps you and it turns out he's a vampire , and he gets busy and drinks your blood for a fetish. Spikes arms around your shoulder , eventually falling asleep with your head on his chest.

Everything was fine, until Wesley and the rest of them had came looking for you. As you was supposed to be in a meeting with them in the morning , so was Spike but they were worried for you.

"Couldn't they do that at home?"

"Can I poke them with a stick?"

"Ah yes, poke the mass murdering vampire , very smart ,Gunn. "

No consideration of being quiet, you both had been woken, it wouldn't be that surprising if Spike was pretending to be asleep , to avoid talking to people he didn't like very much except Fred.

Waking up to see a bunch of people just smiling at you at , wasn't the best. "So, Spike what about Buffy?" Sitting up ,before standing up from Spike, must've hurt having a whole body on you all night , maybe it didn't effect him because he has super strength? Spike just turned to sit on the sofa , unimpressed facial expression, hunched.

"Buffy has her own life, I'm not apart of it."

"I-is this all you came her for? To wake us? And   taunt? I'm taking the day off ," No uncertainty that you wanted to get home, and shower and eat. You had looked back at Spike who had looked back , standing up. "I'll drive you."  Grabbing your bag, before bow in front of Angel for whatever reason. "Thank you so much for locking us in an evil law firm all night. Bye Fred, Wesley, Gunn , Lorne."

"Bye hon." Lorne was always a sweetheart , wishing that every guy was like him, kindest soul and very much cute. Spike and you had left after you had sent Lorne a smile. Walking out with bed hair and day old clothes , not that Spike had offered his arm but you were still holding onto to walk.

Walking past Harmony, she had sent daggers your way, why doesn't she just kidnap Orlando Bloom or something. Gripping onto Spikes arm tighter , walking down the stairs, not falling this time, thankfully. Before you made it to Angels' car park, and got into one of this favourite cars. "Uh, are we supposed to be taking Angels car?"

"What? It's mine, love, what are you going on about?" Opening the the car door at the same time , settling in the seats before slamming the door shut. The windows of the car , made from the same glass that wolfram & Hart was supplied with, since the cars were supplied by wolfram & Hart for Angel, a vampire. That also meant that Spike could drive in the sunlight protected.

"Okay, okay." Once you had made it into your building car park, Spike had walked with you up to your door. Being finally able to unlock your door, with your shopping ,lucky there wasn't any fridge nor freezer items. Turning back to Spike who just stood at your door, grinning slightly.

"T-thank you for staying with me yesterday, and for driving me home." A small blush upon your face, it wasn't unknown to you that you had developed a crush on Spike , how couldn't you? "That's alright ,love." Still stood in front of you, looking into your e/c eyes , you staring into his brightly lit blue ones. He was waiting for you to say or to do something.

Leaning to the side of his face, to press a peck onto his pale toned cheek. Instead of course , he had turned and you ended up pressing your lips , onto his briefly. Pulling away red cheeked , Spike now smirking at you again. "H-hey um, do you want to come and watch Lord of the rings with me?" You weren't sure what you was supposed to say after kissing someone accidentally.

"I would," thus that you held your door open wide, "I invite you into my home."

Therefore, you watched Lord of the rings with a dead man.

[spuffybot]

Walk Me to the Graveyard

Summary: Buffy walks through the graveyard alone at night, contemplating the past few months following the fall of Sunnydale. She reflects on her relationship with Spike, her friendships, and her future before receiving a shocking phone call.

Characters: Buffy, Willow, Dawn, Spike (mentions of Giles, Xander, Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Wood, Angel, and Fred)

Warnings: Some adult language

Word Count: 4515

Author’s notes: If you read this, thank you. I’ve been chipping away at it for the past few weeks and I’m just glad I was able to finish something I started. “Ghostface” is a reference to the Scream movies, which Sarah Michelle Gellar had a cameo in. The high tea spot with the egg shaped bathrooms is Sketch, a place I didn’t get to visit this year due to the pandemic. I hope you all have a safe holiday season and new year. Hopefully I’ll finish the second part of this story in 2021.

Walk Me to the Graveyard (part 1)

Buffy’s joints creaked as she stood up from her crouched position. She’d been staking out this grave (no pun intended) for hours and dawn was slowly approaching. In the last few minutes the air had started to change, and she could hear the telltale rustling of birds in the trees. If this vampire was going to rise, it wouldn’t be tonight.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she rolled out her stiff shoulders, feeling strangely relieved by the lack of action.

Buffy had been coming to this cemetery every couple of nights for weeks, sniffing out even the barest hint of vampire activity. Technically she could have assigned graveyard duty to any of the Potentials, but she craved the silence and the normalcy of the activity.

She chuckled to herself. How far she’d come that she could relish a few hours of graveyard haunting and call it normal. If only her sixteen-year-old self could see her now.

The truth was she was tired. After the fall of Sunnydale, she’d been fueled by an insatiable need to just keep moving. Giles had suggested they hole up in LA and take refuge with Angel Investigations, but Buffy refused. She wanted to get started on rebuilding as soon as possible. They couldn’t afford to waste time in LA, on Angel’s turf, killing time as his sidekicks while thousands of girls woke up with powers they couldn’t explain. So instead the Scoobies had moved to London, taking on the role of de-facto Watchers Council. They’d rounded up the few surviving members of the former Council and had started reaching out to as many activated Potentials as possible.

They recruited the ones they could and provided support (emotional and financial) to the ones they couldn’t. It was rewarding and it kept her mind off things.

Things like telling a man she loved him only to have him choose death over a future with her.

Buffy kicked a crumbling headstone, cursing when she stubbed her toe.

She knew that wasn’t fair. Spike died saving the world. It was a sacrifice she’d made more than once, and she knew how much she resented the people she left behind for not understanding the weight of that choice. She didn’t want to sully the memory of his heroics with her bitterness. She just couldn’t help it. Besides, focusing on missing Spike was easier than accepting she didn’t know how to function now that she wasn’t the “one girl in all the world.” The irony of having an identity crisis over getting the one thing she’d always thought she wanted was not lost on her. She should be grateful that she wasn’t the only Slayer. Grateful that her future was finally hers to shape. Instead she just felt lost.

It didn’t help that everyone around her was adjusting to this new life and mission like they were born to it. Dawn was training to be a Watcher, and frankly, they needed as many as they could get. The Slayer to Watcher ratio had been drastically tipped and it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

Faith and Wood had stayed behind in America, taking up shop at the Hellmouth in Cleveland. It was weird to think of Faith as the reigning defender of the Hellmouth, but it felt right. With Wood by her side she would stay grounded and on track. He understood the mission better than most.

Giles was in his glory. He’d vetted the surviving Watchers, firing some gleefully and taking others under his wing. Between them they’d established a kind of Watchers Hogwarts, training Watchers by day and guiding Potential Slayers on field missions by night. He was happy, which was something she’d never really seen him be before. Their relationship had taken a hit in the last few years and while she wasn’t ready to forgive him for everything, she didn’t begrudge him his success. Her Watcher had floundered ever since he was fired, unable to find purpose while she and her friends had grown up around him. Seeing as she suddenly found herself in a similar position it was hard not to understand how he’d gone off track. Besides, she’d lost enough people to know she wasn’t going to lose anymore. She’d fix things with Giles, eventually. For now, she’d just settle for on the same continent and on polite speaking terms. 

Xander and Andrew led the Potential Identification and Retrieval Taskforce. They came up with the name. Obviously. They spent their days traveling the world, chasing down leads and giving their best “join team save the world” sales pitch to scared and angry girls.

Buffy smiled thinking about them. The last time they’d video chatted, Xander had looked better than she’d seen him in years. He’d lost the chip on his shoulder that he’d been carrying since they graduated high school. For the first time in his life he was the best person for the job, and he knew it. Trustworthiness and warmth radiated from him and his knowledge of tactics and the cost of the fight lent him an authenticity the girls were drawn to. He never bullshitted or misled them, but he did inspire them. Like he’d inspired all of the Scoobies over the years to keep on fighting.

The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, and a misty fog enveloped the graveyard. She knew she was dawdling but she couldn’t bring herself to rush home. The alarms would be ringing any second now, Potentials and Watchers scrambling to the mess hall for breakfast before a day of study and training.

Technically she didn’t have any classes to teach until the afternoon, but Giles liked the staff to be present in the morning. He said it communicated solidarity and responsibility. Personally, she thought Dawn had just made him watch the Harry Potter movies one too many times.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she let it go to voicemail. It was either Willow calling to say she had another hit on the Potential alert locator spell or Giles calling to ask where she was.

Either way it could wait.

She just wanted to be in the quiet for a little bit longer.

That’s what she missed the most about Spike. Having someone she could be in the quiet with. He had always seemed to know what she needed, anticipating her every mood and desire.

She’d never met anyone she could just be alone with before him. He never expected anything of her other than to just be. In this chaotic mess of a life she now led she craved his company and his silence. Since she couldn’t have that she came to the cemetery. The dead kept her company in a way the living never could. The occasional scuffle with a vampire didn’t hurt either. The familiar comfort of a stake in her pocket, grave dust on her shoes, her breath quickening for the thrill of the kill, reminding her that even though everything had changed, some things never would.

Her phone buzzed again.

She frowned, wondering why she couldn’t even get a few hours of peace before the sun was fully risen.

Flipping it open she saw two missed calls from a number she didn’t recognize. No voicemail.

It was probably someone trying to sell her something.

Technically her phone was spelled against telemarketers, but magic was fickle. If someone really needed to reach her, they would call the office and leave a message with her secretary.

God. How had she ended up here?

When they’d first arrived in London she’d panicked. Back in California it had seemed so clear. Get to London, find the Watchers, find the Potentials, save the world. Simple.

Except once they arrived there had been bureaucracy and red tape to get through. The surviving Watchers had needed convincing and playing nice with morons wasn’t Buffy’s strong suit. After one particularly eventful meeting that ended with some snide British dude’s head slamming into a wall Giles and Willow had pushed her to take a back seat on the negotiations. Much to everyone’s shock, she listened.

As soon as she stopped leading she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Without meetings and planning sessions to fill her days she’d found herself wandering the streets of London with Dawn, playing tourist.

They were having high tea at this ridiculous spot with baby pink furniture and weird egg-shaped toilets when it hit her. She could walk away. The Hellmouth was gone, and there were more than enough Slayers to pick up the slack. Her friends would be disappointed but eventually they would understand. As she sat there watching Dawn sample pastries, no fear of imminent death getting in the way of her fun, Buffy couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like. This could be their every day.

They could finish out the summer backpacking through Europe then head home to America to finish school and settle down. She was pretty sure she’d heard somewhere that there were hardly any vampires in New Jersey.

She was so wrapped up in the fantasy that she almost missed what Dawn said as they were walking home to their flat.

“Sorry, what with the what now?”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I said, it’s crazy how there’s this whole world out here and no one was helping keep it safe before.”

“Ummm excuse me, Slayer here, has saved the world, a lot. Even got a nice shiny headstone for my troubles.”

“Obviously but...you were always in Sunnydale. And sure, most of the big bad world endy guys ended up there too but...what about all the other regular level baddies hurting everyday people? I mean, look at them all.”

Dawn stopped and looked around, forcing Buffy to take it all in. The couples strolling along, groups of friends, kids in strollers. The street was flooded with people going about their day. As soon as that sun went down, they’d be joined by all the things that went bump in the night.

“I just think it’s kind of amazing what we’re about to do. For the first time we’ll be able to protect people all over the world. These people will have a chance like they’ve never had before. Like everyone in Sunnydale got because you were around. We can give that to them. I’m just...glad.”

Buffy’s heart warmed even as dreams of running away slipped from her grasp. Dawn was right. This was her calling. She’d find a way to live with it. Normalcy would never be available to her and the sooner she embraced that, the sooner she could start working towards happiness.

At least that’s what Willow was always saying.

Willow who saw a therapist three times a week and a substance abuse counselor twice a week.

After the battle she and Kennedy had parted ways. Their relationship had run its course and Kennedy wasn’t interested in staying on Team Scooby. Instead she took her slaying act on the road, traveling town to town looking for monsters to hunt and people to save. Occasionally she’d run into a Potential and send a heads up their way. She seemed happy. Everyone seemed happy. Buffy just couldn’t seem to find her groove.

Ironically, Willow was the only one to notice how out of sorts Buffy was. Maybe it was all the therapy or maybe it was just that she was more herself than she’d been in a long time, but Willow had become Buffy’s sole confidant these past few months. If she thought about it too much she knew she’d cry. It hadn’t occurred to her how much she’d missed her best friend until she got her back.

At first when Willow tried to reach out, Buffy had been cold and distant. Willow understood, even writing Buffy a letter to explain that she respected her need for distance after the way she had torched their friendship and Buffy’s trust. The letter had melted something in Buffy’s heart. It was the first time Willow had really acknowledged the fact that their sisterhood had been a casualty of Willow’s addiction.

The first time they sat down for coffee together felt like coming home. Willow seemed lighter, more like the girl Buffy had met her sophomore year of high school than the all-powerful Wicca she had come to know lately. She seemed shy, hesitant to take too much from Buffy, a reticence that allowed her to give more than she had intended to when she agreed to meet.

By their third coffee date it was clear that they were going to push through this. When a third turned into a fourth and fifth they decided to just make it a standing girl’s night. Every Tuesday for the rest of their lives.

Last Tuesday they’d finally broached the subject of Spike. Buffy had been dreading this, afraid to pick at the scab only to be met with judgment and condemnation. She wasn’t sure their renewed friendship could handle it. As much as she loved having Will back, Spike was a sensitive spot and she was afraid of how she’d react if Willow said something she didn’t like.

“Buffy, I tried to end the world. What’s a little bumpin of the uglies between former enemies compared to that? I am judgement free Willow of the no judgies zone.”

Willows face scrunched up like it did sometimes when she was trying to find the right words, her nose crinkling and her eyes rolling skyward.

“I just want you to be ok. And if that means loads of tasty mochas and squishy details about Spike sex, I am all ears. I’ve even got marshmallows.”

Buffy saw the sincerity on her friends face and felt something crack deep inside her. She’d been prepared for judgment at worst and stoic acceptance at best. Being met with such openness and warmth took her by surprise and she found she couldn’t hold back anymore. Her eyes welled up and before she could reign it in and full body sobs shook her.

As she cried, Willow rubbed her back and let her get it all out, careful to avoid pushing her to talk. It was exactly what she’d needed to be able to open up.

And open up she did. It was like the levies broke and all the confusion and hurt came pouring out. She told Willow about what happened in the Hellmouth. About her last days with Spike, how he supported her and strengthened her when no one else could, or would. This last part she said without any venom, all her anger and resentment at Willow long gone.

She even spoke about their last night together. How they’d made love in the basement, on that shitty cot. The first and only time they’d ever been truly intimate, Buffy’s walls fully down, her heart totally exposed.

“I know having sex with someone isn’t like, a big deal or anything. Especially when you’ve had sex as many times as we did.”

Buffy cringed as the words left her mouth. The familiar guilt over her physical affair with Spike flaring up.

“No!” Willow exclaimed.

“Buffy no. It is a big deal. It’s like, the biggest of deals. You and sex haven’t exactly had the most copacetic relationship, no offense.”

She smiled apologetically, eliciting a soft laugh from Buffy despite the anxiety that was clenching her gut.

“If you let yourself feel something good with Spike, even just that one time, it’s important. Special. You shouldn’t downplay that. He loved you and you let him show it to you. It’s romantic.”

At that Buffy really laughed.

“God Will. Spike. Romantic.”

Willow laughed too.

“You know...it’s not that weird. Remember when he kidnapped me and Xander? He wanted me to do a love spell for Drusilla. I think he’s always had a romantic streak. In a weird, murdery, vampire kinda way”

Buffy shook her head in amusement.

“Did I ever tell you Spike was a poet when he was human?”

Willows eye widened, and her hands flew to cover her cackling laugh.

“A poet? Oh my gosh. That’s...that’s too good.”

Buffy took a sip of her mocha, relishing the warm caffeinated goodness before adding, “he would kill me for telling you this but, the best part is the whole “William the Bloody” thing? That’s because he had a reputation for being such a terrible poet.”

At that Willow dissolved into full on giggles, hands clutching her stomach

“Ugggggh ok ok, I’m done laughing. Promise. Also why is that so cute? That’s so cute. Little Spike the poet.”

Buffy sighed. “The thing is Spike has this immense capacity for love. Even as a violent serial killer he was still driven by love. It scared me. That he was so willing to throw himself headfirst into love without a shadow of doubt. I’ve never...I’ve never been like that.”

She looked up at Willow, trying to read her reaction. The witch just nodded encouragingly for her to go on.

“I just...I told Giles once that I didn’t know if I could love. I was worried I was broken, like all the slaying made me cold and loveless or something.”

“Buffy, no,” Willow cut in, but Buffy held up a hand to stop her.

“I know it’s not true. I died to save Dawn, to save all of you, weeks after I said that.” Buffy’s eyes filled up again but this time she swallowed it down and wiped them clean.

“He really loved me Will. And I don’t know that I was in love with him but that last night we spent together...I kind of thought that I could be, someday. You know? I wanted him to know that. To know that there was a chance for us. I figured we’d have all the time in the world after...”

Buffy trailed off, suddenly tired. She didn’t need to explain the rest. How Spike had died, believing she’d never love him. How all the time she thought she’d have to figure out if she could evaporated in a burst of fire and ash.

—————————

She’d reached the cemetery gates just as the sun broke through the horizon. Her car was covered in dew, glistening in the hazy morning light.

She still couldn’t believe she had learned how to drive. And on the wrong side of the road! Her mom would die of shock if she were still around.

The thought of Joyce made her wistful. If only her mom could see her now. In her heart Buffy new her mom would be proud of the choices she’d made. She’d encourage her to let go of the past and focus on the future. She’d be overjoyed to know that Buffy had a future now. Sure, it still involved a massive amount of slayage but for the first time in a long time, the fate of the world didn’t rest solely on her shoulders. Her mom would tell her to embrace that and to live this new life to the fullest.

I’m trying mom.

Her phone buzzed again, and this time Buffy yanked it out in annoyance and flipped it open.

“What do you want?”

The silence on the other end only ticked her off more. If it was so important for someone to call her three times before she’d even had a cup of tea they could freaking respond when she finally picked up.

“Hello? I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get all un-ghostface on me and just tell me what you want.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Her annoyance bled to curiosity and she willed herself to be patient.

Infusing her voice with a level of calm she didn’t feel, she asked “Do you need help or something? I don’t know how you got this line if you’re not part of Scooby Central but…you got me.”

The silence eked on for seconds that felt like minutes before the caller sighed. Buffy’s pulse shot up, anticipation making her antsy. She shuffled from foot to foot, fighting her instinct to hang up. If this was a Potential calling for help she needed to wait it out.

Finally, a voice broke through the silence.

“Slayer?”

Buffy dropped the phone on the ground, her fingers losing the ability to function along with her brain, which had gone fuzzy and staticky at the sound of the all too familiar voice on the other end of the line.

She stared down at her phone, the call still connected, wondering if she had fallen asleep somehow.

A muffled “bloody hell” came out of the fallen phone, causing Buffy to gasp and jump back. She crouched down low, getting as close to the phone as she could without actually picking it back up.

“Shit. SHIT. Spike?”

The muttering and cursing stopped.

“Slayer…yea. It’s a long story. But yea.”

Buffy felt her limbs turn to jelly and she sat down on the cold gravel, her head falling into her hands. A sob bubbled up from her chest, turning into a laugh that she couldn’t control. She giggled for a solid minute before gingerly picking her phone up and pressing it to her ear.

“How? You better explain yourself right now.” Her voice was edged with steel, anxiety and adrenaline giving way to nervous anger. If this was someone’s idea of a sick joke she was going to get murdery.

She could almost hear Spike roll his eyes.

“Good god woman, can’t I come back to life without brassing you off?”

She bit her lip to stop a smile, not willing to let hope overrule a protective layer of skepticism.

Rocking back on her heels Buffy gulped down the crisp morning air, willing her body to calm down so she could take stock of the situation. Her dead ex sort of boyfriend was calling her…she looked at the phone number quickly…from LA. Ok. She could handle this. She was the Slayer, queen of things that go bump in the night and let’s face it, this wasn’t her first ex to come back from the great beyond. If Angel could do it…Angel.

“Spike, why are you calling me from LA?”

He sighed again and she could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, a grimace on his face as he debated the best way to tell her what was going on.

Despite the rush of anger, her heart warmed at the thought.

“Eh look, I said it was complicated. I just thought it was right. Telling you I was alive. Thought you should know is all.”

Whatever ice had melted in her heart immediately froze back up. No way was Spike going to call her from beyond the grave and then immediately get shady and secretive.

“So, is that your weird dodgy British way of saying you’re not going to tell me why you’re calling me from LA? Where Angel lives? Are you with Angel?”

She heard Spike mutter something to himself that sounded an awful lot like “bloody bint”. She rolled her eyes and stood up, pacing the lot in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“Yea. Alright yea.”

His voice had changed, his accent becoming sharper, and she knew he was starting to get worked up.

“I’m in LA and I’m with Angel. If you want to talk to him you can damn well call him yourself. I don’t know what I was thinking. Bloke comes back as a sodding ghost, gets himself corporealized by a nice scientist bird and calls his girl up and she wants to know about Angel. Figures.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, not even bothering to interrupt his tirade. She knew he’d run out of steam eventually.

“Are you finished?”

Spike sighed again and Buffy felt the fight go out of her. She sat down on the hood of her car, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within.

“Yea Slayer. I’m finished.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped and she laid back, gazing up at the sky. It was going to be a cloudy day.

“How?”

“That’s the million-dollar question love. Seems no one can answer it.”

“Wait.” Buffy sat up; brow furrowed in concentration as she started to put together the various odd things Spike had said so far.

“You were a ghost?”

She tried to picture that. Spike all floaty and haunty. The image made her chuckle, which she quickly tried to suppress.

“Yea, yea, yea, laugh it up. I don’t know if I was a ghost. I was a something. Couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. Just trapped at bloody Wolfram & Hart with your beloved Prince of Brooding.”

“Wolf ram and what now?”

“It doesn’t matter. Done what I set to do. You know. Guess I’ll let you get back to it then.”

Buffy felt white hot anger burning in her chest. Did he really think he was going to call her up, say hey, and then leave? Maybe forever? Who did he think he was?

“Fine,” she spat out.

“Fine,” came Spike’s huffy reply.

They’d reached a stalemate and Buffy did the only thing she could think of doing.

She hung up.

She stuffed the phone in her pocket, unlocking the car door and sliding into the front seat. She stared out the frosted windshield for a moment before screaming at the top of her lungs. When that didn’t calm the storm she felt brewing inside she slammed her hands repeatedly into the steering wheel. The metal and leather began to crunch and warp under the weight of her blows but she didn’t care. She felt like someone had set her insides on fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t cry, couldn’t do anything but scream and rage into the void.

Eventually she ran out of steam. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed but her throat was raw. Rubbing her face she switched into Slayer mode. Something was up and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Cagey Spike and his caginess be damned.

She forwarded the number he’d called her from to Willow and Andrew. Between the two of them they’d be able to trace it and dig up some dirt on where Spike was. As for how he got there, she was going to need boots on the ground. Luckily Kennedy had last checked in from Arizona a couple of days ago. She couldn’t be far from there and she owed Buffy more than one favor. She might not be Spike’s biggest fan, but she would do some recon and get Buffy the answers she needed. Once she knew what was going on, she could show up in LA and punch Spike and Angel in the face herself.

Buffy felt calmer. She had a plan. It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

She’d let Spike get away once before. This time would be different. She didn’t know why or how but it seemed the Powers That Be had given her a second chance.

She wouldn’t waste it.

—end—