#my peach brings all the vamps to the yard

[he1chouarts]

mute me now because this is about to be my whole personality

[inkandpen22]

Not Playing Nice

Request: a transman!reader x protective!Spike after the reader gets insulted or invalidated

Pairing: Spike x transman!reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting, mentions of violence, bullying 

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Y/N is a member of the Scoobie gang and attends UC Sunnydale with them. When Spike walks Y/N home after a group meeting, he notices some marks on his skin and gets concerned. 

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! This is my first time writing a story with this POV and it was such a fun new experience! I hope I did the story justice and I hope you enjoy it! X 

Masterlist

Curled up in the armchair, I struggle to not doze off. Buffy and the others discuss the latest Big-Bad that’s been ravaging Sunnydale. When Xander called this meeting at his and Anya’s apartment after he spotted the demon earlier at the construction site, I almost lied and said I was busy in the library. Usually, I’m of greater help than this, but classes have me drained and last night was a long night. The idea of having to walk back past the frat houses on the way to the dorm keeps popping into my head every time I close my eyes, so at least I have that to keep me alert. 

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Hey Y/N?” 

I hum, too tired to open my eyes. Spike is squatting in front of my chair, studying my face. 

“You seem tired. How about you head on home?” He suggests. 

I shake my head, sitting up to prove I’m awake. “Nah, I’ll stay until everyone calls it a night.” A yawn escapes me accidentally. 

“If you’re worried about walking back with Mr. Munchie-Man out and about, I could join you,” he offers, referring to the toothy demon we’ve been hunting. 

“It’s not that, thanks though,” I offer the blonde vampire a weak smile. 

“Yeah, Y/N, you should get some rest,” Willow agrees. “I know you’ve had a lot of projects this week. We’ll bring you up to date tomorrow!” She offers enthusiastically. 

I yawn again, “alright, maybe you’re right.” 

I shift in my seat to stand and Spike’s hand remains on my arm kindly. 

“Come on, Mate,” he mumbles, guiding me to the door. “I’ll walk you home just in case.” 

I roll my eyes, “I’m human, not a defenseless puppy.” 

“Doesn’t mean the Hungry-Hungry-Hippo won’t make you into a chew toy,” he insists. 

Spike is always so uncharacteristically protective of me. He’s not that way with Xander. I suspect it’s because Buffy and the others treat me the same. I’m the ‘empathetic one’ of the group. 

Everyone says their goodbyes and repeat for us to stay safe. Buffy adds a request, for me to call when I get back to my dorm room okay. I promise her to do so. 

As Spike and I arrive at my dorm room, I go to unlock the door. Considering how late it is everyone on my floor is asleep and the only lighting in the hall is the emergency lights. 

“Well, thanks for playing bodyguard,” I start to bid the vamp farewell as my door swings open. “I’ll see-” 

“Wait,” Spike grabs my wrist suddenly. 

I jump, thinking he says something in my pitch-black room. “What?!” 

“What’s this on your neck?” He releases my wrist and his fingers brush against my neck. 

Shit. 

“Oh, I uh...” I stammered, struggling to think of an excuse. “Willow was messing around and tried flat ironing my hair! She kinda got to close ya know,” I laugh nervously, moving to step inside my room. 

Spike grabs my forearm and I wince. Noticing my reaction, he frowns and swiftly raises the fabric of my sweatshirt’s sleeve. 

“Spike, don’t-” 

His sight lands on the massive, hours old, scrape that travels from my elbow to my wrist on the outside of my forearm. 

“What the hell is this?” He mumbles, peering up at me with hooded eyes. 

“From the last time, we fought a Big-Bad,” I explain plainly, taking my arm back and lowering the sleeve. “I’m not vampy like you, don’t heal as quickly.” I force a smile. 

Not buying the story, he nudges my shoulder aggressively and I bump into the wall of the hallway. He presses his palm against the wall beside my head and reaches for the hem of my hoodie. I swat at his hand away and he slaps it back like a cat. 

“Stop that,” he orders sternly. 

I turn my head to the side, clenching my jaw. I focus on a single piece of wood positioned at the end of the corridor. Swallowing hard, to distract me as Spike picks up the hem of my hoodie hesitantly. He shifts on his feet as the dark-colored bruise that coats my rib cage becomes fully exposed. For a moment that feels like an eternity, he examines the many clustered marks around my abdomen. 

He clears his throat and drops the fabric. Pushing off the wall, he paces away to the opposite wall. There’s a prolonged silence between us as I protrude far within myself. 

Spike spins on his heels to face me. “All of these marks from one fight where you had me, two mega witches, a Slayer, an ex-vengeance demon, and her lapdog to help you? What are you, a human or a peach?” 

I toss my head back in annoyance. “Just leave it, Spike!” 

“So, you’re just not going to tell me what happened?” He clenches his jaw. 

“I did tell you,” I defend calmly and go to enter my room. “Now, goodnight.” 

He rushes to the doorway and slams his hands against the frame. “I’m going to find out!” 

“See you tomorrow!” I dismiss, shutting the door in his face. 

Finally, alone, I slide down the back of my door and bring my knees close to my chest. Releasing a deep breath, I do everything I can to relax, even in the slightest bit. I’ve gone this long without any of my friends finding out, I just hope Spike doesn’t say anything. I’ve just never wanted to trouble them. I mean, considering we fight demons and forces of legitimate evil each day my problems don’t exactly match the level of priority. I can handle this. Besides, I’ve been dealing with it for a while now. I’m used to it. 

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The following night, we all gather at The Bronze to celebrate another win against a demon. I really didn’t like this one, he gave IT vibes this his racks of teeth. Gives me the heebie-jeebies! 

At the bar, I wait patiently for my drink while the group is around our usual table just a few yards away. 

“Jack Daniels please,” a familiar English accent requests the bartender. 

I glance to my right and sure enough, there’s Spike in all his glory. He turns to face me directly and I stare ahead, watching the bartender make my drink. 

“You were good today, you know when you picked up Xander’s ax and whatnot,” Spike compliments awkwardly. 

“Thanks,” I mumble. 

“So you’re still not going-” 

“Nope,” I nod. “Still not gonna tell ya.” 

“Right then, fair enough,” he sighs, spinning on his heels to face the bar. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him tapping his black painted nails against the bar. After a second of fidgeting, he reaches into his coat pocket and reveals a pack of cigarettes. He slips one between his lips and holds the pack out to me. I give him a knowing look, he can’t be serious. 

“You know I don’t smoke,” I remind him. 

“You know I don’t smoke,” he mimics my voice, stuffing the cigarettes back into his pocket. 

I suppress my amusement, biting down on my lip. That impersonation was just horrid. Spike notices and continues his act. 

“Oh Spike, you’re just the best!” He says in a sing-songy tone. “You’re the evilest, most vicious vampire I’ve ever met. I just-” 

I swat his arm and he whines, rubbing the wounded area. 

“I don’t sound like that!” I laugh. 

“You’re right.” He takes a quick smoke of his cigarette and clears his throat. “Let me just get in tune here-”

I whine, “Spike, I-” 

“Well if it isn’t the SheMan!” 

My heart stops as soon as I hear the eery insult. It’s nothing original, I hear it almost daily, that’s not what makes me anxious. The part that has me so worried is I hear from the same group of asshole every day. They’re all in the same frat at UC Sunnydale. I have to pass their house to get to my dorm, that’s how I ran into the first time. They were are their porch and one of them recognized me from our English Literature class. 

The douchiest one of them all, the leader, appears at my side rubs against me. “We missed you in class today!” 

I turn my body to Spike, putting my back to the Frat guy. His friends circle us like a wall of steroid driven rage. Spike clenches his jaw, switching his sight between me and the group of guys. 

He removes the cigarette from his mouth and barks past me at the Frat leader. “Piss off you wanker!”

“Ooh, got yourself a boyfriend?” One of his minions purrs, making the others laugh. 

“Trying to compensate for something are we?!” Spike insults the group, unfazed by the dickwad’s insinuation. 

“Just ignore them,” I grumble to Spike. 

“I’m sorry? What was that you little tranny?” Another one of them snickers and shoves me into the bar top. 

The wind gets knocked out of me as I grip my bruised side. Sweet Lord, that hurt like a bitch! 

“Okay, this should be fun,” Spike remarks, having had enough. 

I push off the bar weakly, still suffering the shooting pain in my abdomen. I grab the vampire wrist pleadingly. “Spike, don’t!” 

He won’t always be there to play bodyguard and I’ll be the one left to deal with the consequences at school. Next year I’ll live in a different building and I’ll never have to see these pricks again. 

Spike is ready to drop-kick each of them and huffs when I stop with him. He opens to argue with me. “But-” 

“Let’s go!” I repeat sternly. 

We go to walk back to our friends, leaving the group of Abercrombie models by the bar. 

“Must you always be so patient,” Spike grumbles, his cigarette balancing on his lips. 

I can tell it’s taking everything in him to restrain himself. It’s not in his nature to leave a fight, baby steps. 

“I thought you liked that about me,” I laugh lightly. 

A faint smile appears on Spike’s lips, at least he’s easing up a little. Soon, we’ll be back with our friends and it’ll be fine. 

“Oh yeah, you run!” One of the boys shouts over the chatter of the club. 

Spike shifts to turn around and I press a hand to his back, urging him to keep walking. “Ignore them!” 

“You sissy!” Another adds, earning a series of laughs from his friends. 

“Alright fuck this nice-person bollocks!” Spike snaps, dropping his cigarette and smashing it with his boot. His face morphs into his vampy one as he allows his frustration to consume him. “I’m evil for Christ’s sake!” He spins on his heels and marches toward the group of guys gathered by the bar. 

“Spike!” 

Before I have the chance to stop him, he grabs one of the guys by the collar of his polo and punches him right across the face. The college boy falls into his friends then the floor with a grunt. He covers his face, his nose bleeding excessively. 

Spike leans over him with a wicked snicker. “How’d you like that you gutless tit?!” 

He stands up straight to address his circle of friends. “Anyone else what a goat it?! Suddenly I’m very thirsty!” 

Taking one look at Spike’s face, all of them scatter. I watch as they shove each other out of the way to get away and sprint up to the exit. They leave their friend on the floor moaning and groaning in pain. Spike brushes his hands over his gelled hair, sleeking it back. 

“Well, that was refreshing,” he sighs, dropping his arms at his sides. 

He rejoins me and presses a hand to my back to walk me back to the bar to where we were peacefully before. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” I mutter, nonetheless appreciate. 

“Of course I bloody did,” he debates. “If there’s anything I hate more than sympathetic, humanitarian namby-pamby, self-righteous prats! It’s weak high-and-mighty bullies!” 

Spike playing defender instead of the offender? What an interesting turn of events. After a moment, the bartender brings us our drinks. 

“Thank you,” I say to Spike before I forget. 

“Eh, don’t mention it,” he waves his hand, dismissing it as nothing. “And the next time any other prep-fest frat boy gives you trouble you tell me, alright! Promise?!” 

I nod, taking a sip of my drink. 

“And don’t worry, I won’t tell the others about any of this,” he assures me timidly as a side note.  

That truly comes as a relief to me. I wouldn’t want to deal with the constant questions and fussing that I’m sure would ensue. 

“So...do you wanna go join the others?” I suggest. 

“Nah,” he makes a disgusted face as he lights himself a new cigarette. “They all annoy me.” 

“I don’t annoy you?” I laugh, raising a brow. 

“No, you’re quite pleasant actually,” he compliments to my surprise. “You think I’d punch someone for just anybody?” 

“Umm, yeah?” I argue, not hiding my amusement. 

“Okay maybe you’re right,” he concludes. “But if it were Xander I’d let him get hit!” He rushes out to maintain his tough facade. 

“Oh, of course, certainly,” I agree, snickering at his sternness. 

There’s a comfortable silence between us as Spike finishes his cigarette and I sip on my drink. Then, out of nowhere, Spike pops off like a rocket, causing me to jump a little. Evidently, he’s been going over the events of the conflict with the boys. 

“I just don’t get why people get their knickers in a twist about some things?!” He complains to me. “And it changes with every bloody decade! One minutes it pre-martial sex and every other woman being called a harlot! That was real a drag for many centuries, let me tell ya! I couldn’t shag a girl without her panicking after! I was going through villages like I was on a damn pilgrimage! Then, a lot of the focus was shot at the gays for a couple decades following Stonewall and AIDS! I was in New York for that whole thing and people were down right bonkers! And the same people who were so pissy about it also blasted Freddie Mercury and Elton John from their boomboxes! Bet it came as a real shock to them when those closet doors swung open!”

Resting my chin my hand, I just listen to him rant and sip on my drink. 

He goes on, “it’s just a load of bollocks how you humans are so quick to attack one another! It leaves us vampires and demons with little work to do! Most of the time, we just sit back and watch the bloody shit show!” 

An amused grin appears across my lips as the decades old vampire bitches about closed-minded humans. He’s preaching to the choir here. 

“For thirteen years everyone was up in arms about alcohol! Alcohol!” He repeats, peering at me with raised brows. “Of all things! So, for thirteen fucking years we had to hide and sneak around because a group of Jesus loving women decided alcohol was the reason their husbands didn’t like them! Well, I have a hunch that it might of been their constant nagging and preaching!” 

He pants, catching his breath after his tangent. Honestly, it was quite amusing. I hope he has more. 

“My point is Y/N, if I’ve learned anything from my many years on this planet, it’s that humanity constantly evolving along with the world. In this point in time, you’re who you’re meant to be,” he tells me as he fidgets with the paper from his straw. “Only you can define who that is and fuck anyone who tries to do it for you. Be yourself, people will learn to fucking deal.” 

I sit quietly, processing his words and wait to see if there’s more. Then, he meets my gaze for the first time since his tangent. 

“Would... would you mind if we just sit here, have a few drinks maybe?” He requests. “Those nitwits have me all moody.” 

I struggle to hide the smile that’s forcing itself across my lips. “I’d like that.” 

For the remainder of the night, Spike and I sit at the bar. We talk about a ridge range of topics from my major to his life before vamping out. I try imagining Spike as William the poet, it doesn’t quite work out in my head. He tells me some funny stories about his experiences during Woodstock, and we laugh about them for a good hour or two. It’s unspoken between us, but it’s evident that this is the start of a real friendship. 

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Masterlist

Tags: @mx-pibbles​