“Now wouldn’t that be a bloody pity?” A new voice cut into the conversation and the group at the table turned to see a lean, leather clad body standing in the doorway leading to the training room. Spike offered the lot of them a smirk, one hand tucked into the deep pocket of his duster. The other was holding an unlit cigarette near his mouth. “All those poor innocent souls sucked away into the bleedin’ abyss.”
“Go away, Spike.” Buffy said slowly, fixing the new arrival with an if-looks-could-stake glare.
“Like that.” Anya stage whispered to Xander, pointing between the two of them, “Only without the obvious sexual tension.”
Spike couldn’t help but swell a little at Anya’s less-than-subtle comment, further still when he noticed the flustered edge to the Slayer’s overt disgust. Oh yeah, she wanted him.
“You mean the obvious activation of my gag-reflex.” Buffy corrected the ex-demon.
“Like I’d be interested in the leftovers of the Great and Mighty Poof,” Spike shot back, wounded.
“What, you mean like Drusilla?” Buffy smirked triumphantly, earning herself a high-five from Xander.
Spike opened his mouth to give a scathing reply, but faltered as Buffy turned towards the whelp, celebrating her quip. She flipped her hair over her shoulder in the process, and he had to fight to keep the smile that was forming off his face.
She had the ribbon he’d left her in her hair.
He could smell the lingering scent of roses clinging to it and weaving its way into her hair, and inhaled deeply, his eyes closing for a moment. Giles took the opportunity to hold up a hand, directing the conversation back to official White-Hat business.
“To perform the spell, we need her name. And as all the texts denote that the sphere repels ‘that which cannot be named’, we can assume that we are not going to find it in any of the books we have at our disposal here.”
“So, what? We yell ‘Rumpelstiltskin’ and call it a day?” Xander asked, “No more homework?”
“Not quite,” the older man corrected, removing his glasses. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he ran it over the lenses as he continued, pacing. “I have several books on their way from storage in England, some of which are very rare. They may be able to tell us the name of this demon.”
Spike settled himself on the ladder, the cigarette between his lips and searched his pocket for his lighter. “What, the bird didn’t introduce herself before she kicked your ass, Slayer?” He flicked open the lighter and lit up. Anya looked appalled, but was cut off before she could complain.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Spike.” Buffy said sweetly, putting her chin in her hand, fixing him with a wide-eyed stare. “Were you under the impression that you were still wanted here?”
“Don’t kid yourself pet, you know you want me.” Spike ran his tongue behind his teeth suggestively, smirking at her eye roll and the glare from the whelp next to her. He noticed the strange looks the two witches were giving him, and shifted uncomfortably. Red just looked confused, a little disgusted, but the girlfriend… Tara… was staring at him like she was trying to figure him out. Hurriedly taking a long drag of smoke, he forced a look of nonchalance onto his features, leaning back against the rungs of the ladder.
“In your dreams,” Buffy wrinkled her nose, raising her chin.
If only you knew, Slayer.
“Actually, Buffy, Spike might be useful in the coming days,” Giles interjected, earning himself a shocked stare from his Slayer. Spike smirked.
“Say what?” Xander beat Buffy to the make-a-complaint punch, dropping all attempts at looking studious.
“I don’t like it either. Spike is, at best, a nuisance—“
“…But he is capable of helping in a fight.” Giles continued, “And if he insists on hanging about after last week’s problems…”
“You mean when he tried to kill me and Riley,” Buffy interjected, shooting the vampire a glare.
“Actually, your soldier was just in the way. I just needed the doc.” Spike corrected, pointing. “Just because he was scheduled in for a snip-and-sew with the same doctor, don’t think it was personal.” He cocked his head slightly, “Between me and him, anyway.”
“…then he may as well assist in the nightly patrols and the coming battle with this demon-woman.” Giles concluded, ignoring the interruption and putting his glasses back on, stuffing a hand in the pocket of his trousers.
Spike straightened, flicking his cigarette expertly onto one of the open books on the table. Buffy slammed it shut quickly over the butt, putting it out. The vampire grinned at her, and Buffy gave him another eye roll, more good-natured than the last few despite herself. She hated him, sure, but she couldn’t help it. She kind of admired the fact that no matter what, he was always so relaxed.
“Half a mo’,” Spike held up a hand, turning his attention to Giles. He played up the part of indignant, evil vampire for the benefit of his white-hat audience. “What if I don’t want to help, shop-keep? Isn’t that what she’s got her soldier for?”
“Giles, I don’t need his help.” Buffy argued, “I have Riley, and you guys, and hello! Super powers, here! I really don’t think I need to have someone who has been trying to kill me for the last four years ‘watching my back’.” Buffy emphasized her point with air quotes.
“If Spike insists on hanging about as he is then we may as well make the most of it.” Giles shrugged.
Spike was beginning to like this idea, spending every night with the Slayer instead of her with her hunk-of-boring boyfriend. He couldn’t help but flick his eyebrows at her suggestively. “Yeah, Slayer. Make the most of me.”
“Besides,” Willow added as Buffy opened her mouth to retort, winking at Giles. “If he does, you know, betray you in any way, you can always stake him.”
There you go guys, I know I haven't been on for ages, so two brand spankin new chapters for you!
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