Hi and hello!

Wrote this back in 2003, for those of the curious disposition. Set in S6, between the episodes “Life Serial” and “All the Way”. This short story is nothing more than Buffy watching some late night TV and a certain someone casually popping by and then... Well – exactly. Read on, ppl, read on. ;P Hope you will fancy. Fluffy and Spuffy.

A.M.L, Annie.




Scruffy and Fang




“I really hate late night TV,” Buffy sighed as she sunk back against the cushions of the couch. “Half of it’s talkshows, the other half is reruns,” she added and Dawn smiled as she turned her head to her.

“That’s surprisingly negative for a gal who two hours ago was clapping hands along with the audience of Leno,” she remarked and Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“There were dogs jumping through hoops! Cute, adorable doggies! You expect me to not get carried away while cute, adorable canines are fulfilling their misguided life-duties?” she defended and Dawn patted her arm before laughing.

“No. No expectations what so ever. But on the whole dissing the contents of the screen there, I think you’re wrong. And if you flip through this,” the latter said, throwing the TV-magazine into Buffy’s lap before rising to her feet, finishing: “I think you’ll find there’s a world of difference to discover through just the hit of a button.”

“Funny,” Buffy muttered, then looked questioningly at the other as she headed for the hall. “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” Dawn replied, pausing to look back at the elder.

“But... what about the world of difference? You don’t wanna discover it with me?” Buffy wondered.

“Hey, I’ve been there, sister,” Dawn stated. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. If you get lost just turn back to the map,” she added, nodding to the magazine. “And if you get stuck on something even resembling ‘Gilligan’s Island’ hit the red button on your compass.”

Buffy merely gave her a look at that and Dawn smirked at her own cleverness before she turned around and skipped up the stairs.

Buffy sighed, turning her gaze back on the TV-screen with much less enthusiasm before she glanced down at the magazine. She felt like she barely even knew where to start. Television sure was a country unexplored to her as of late. She just wasn’t sure she was up to taking it on, at least not...

“Has anyone ever told you...?”

She drew such a sharp breath she nearly choked on it as she sat up straight and spun her head toward the sound of the voice. Its owner was leaning casually against the doorpost of the living room and a small smile graced his lips at the obvious scare he had instilled in her.

Her heart was racing and she drew another breath – not as obvious – to steady herself before she gave him a menacing glare.

“Exactly what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded and he tilted his head slowly to one side as he observed her unnervingly for a few moments, and then he answered:

“Standing leisurely?”

“In my house? Uninvited?” she inquired and he smirked, shrugging as he pushed away from the doorpost and approached her.

“I have a standing – pun intended – invitation, I believe,” he said and she rolled her eyes at him.

“You have such a tendency to make yourself so much dumber whenever you’re trying to avoid something you don’t really feel like dealing with,” she grumbled and he cocked an eyebrow.

“Insightful,” he commended.

She gave him another very dark look before she shook her head and said matter-of-factly:

“You just don’t wanna get kicked out just yet – and so you’re stalling with this really lame attempt at...”

“...a diversion?” he filled in helpfully and she shook her head at him, looking up at him where he had stopped on the other side of the coffee table.

“I take it you’re not gonna be a gentleman and just leave,” she said. He merely held her gaze, which was answer enough and she shrugged. “Great. Well, I’m in for a night of brain cell’s-killing fun. For once in my life I intend to sit down and watch a full hour of...” Directing her eyes on the first row of the magazine they landed on she finished: “’Breakfast at Tiffany’s’.”

“Really?” he wondered and she nodded. “You like that show?”

“Love it. Saw the pilot – was hooked by the second line of dialogue,” she stated.

He smiled gently before he said:

“’Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ is a movie, and a bloody fabulous one at that so I’m sure you would love it.”

Buffy furrowed her brow in aggravation before she made the traitor magazine slip off her lap and onto the floor.

“I knew that,” she muttered with a small pout on her lips. He laughed softly. “What do you want, Spike,” she asked and he kept the smile on before he gestured to the TV.

“A night of brain cell’s-killing fun sounds just about perfect,” he answered and she had to grant him a small smile at that.

“So, tell me,” she said as he moved and came around to take a seat next to her. “What has anyone supposedly told me – or not told me?”

“That you have excellent taste in scent.” She blinked, quizzical. “Vanilla,” he said and she stared at him for another second before turning her head away and facing the pictures on the screen again. “It suits y-...”

“Thanks, but it’s not my taste,” she interrupted and when he seemed to wait for an elaboration she hesitated for a short while before she added: “It’s my mom’s, okay? She bought me the first bottle and... it just stuck.”

“She knew you,” he said and she struggled to shake the soothing tone in his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me stuff I already know, you know?” she said with an edge perhaps a bit sharper than necessary, still not looking at him.

“Fine,” he agreed and she clenched her jaws together with impatience.

Couldn’t he for once let her have the last word? Did he always have to insist on having the upper hand? Did he always have to be in control? And did he have to look at her like that? She could feel them; his eyes on the back of her head... Watching her...

“Stop it,” she snapped, turning back to him and he raised his eyebrows as their gazes locked.

She felt her heart jump one beat as she grew very aware of how close he was actually sitting, how her knee scraped against his as she turned around, how she had to tilt her head slightly back to be able to look into his eyes.

“And what’s my scent to you anyway?” she asked, in lack of anything better to say as the air seemed to thicken with whatever lay unspoken beneath everything that had ever happened between them.

“It hits me about ten yards from your house,” he replied simply and she bit the inside of her lip at the thought of sliding her thumb over his cheek, wondering if it was as smooth as it looked. “So I’d say it’s something to me.”

“Well, I’m glad I smell good then...” she mumbled and he smiled a little at that.

“Why?” he asked and she snapped out of it as though she had heard a gun going off, her eyes widening somewhat as she realized how she had been dwelling on the different shades of blue of which his irises consisted.

They seemed to glitter, those shades, as though they could tell a story if she would only look hard enough, deep enough. If she’d only take the time to learn their language.

She scooted back and turned away from him again with the incredibility of her own thoughts sifting through her head as though it wanted to mock her, taunt her for even having it there at all. She had just looked at that vampire as... as... as though she knew him. As though she felt him...

Stop, she cut herself short, gritting the sentence out of her mind by help of her teeth.

He didn’t know why she was suddenly as rigid as a pole, but it was as though he could hear her nerves squirm just underneath her skin. He let his gaze drift down the cranny of her neck, resting but momentarily on the soft thumping of her pulse before sliding further out to her shoulder and down her arm.

She looked like silk, like milk and butter and everything good in this world.

Before he could stop himself he had reached out a hand and gently let his index finger slide over the spot his eyes were drinking. He could hear her close to careful inhale, he could feel how her body shifted as she once again turned to him, but he couldn’t look away from what his hand was doing as it continued up to her shoulder and with a slight tremble caressed the curve of it.

Buffy stared at him. There was a suction of need somewhere in the back of her stomach as she watched his expression. She couldn’t remember a time when his hands had been careful in their touches. The tenderness with which his fingers now graced her caught her off guard, just as much as the feel of his cool skin against her warm.

“Spike...” she finally got word over tongue, though her voice was hoarser than she would have expected it to be and when he directed his eyes in hers at last, all she could think was how much she wanted to drown in them.

She always felt so lost, she didn’t know where she belonged anymore. Since she had been back not one minute had gone by that she didn’t remember what it felt like as she jumped off that tower. And now all she could grasp was this growing urge to disappear into him and for once, just once, feel safe, feel guarded. He would guard her from everything else, she knew he would.

But he wouldn’t guard her from himself.

And she couldn’t... She didn’t think that she could protect herself...

“So, do you have any knowledge of good shows on at this hour?” she shattered the silence before she leaned forward and reached down to pick up the TV-magazine still resting on the floor at her feet.

She wasn’t sure when he had removed his hand, but he had and relief filled her as she came to the firm conclusion that this... whatever it was... hadn’t been anything but a simple glitch. Nothing to get hung up on. Sometimes there was that. A glitch. When he looked at her like that. Something that made her pause; it had happened before... Well, not to the extent of having her fantasize about...

Enough.

Yes, it was quite enough.

She bit the inside of her cheek hard as she decided to no longer tolerate the irregularity of her heart beat or the jumpiness of her concentration. It wasn’t like she couldn’t explain why she sometimes... Well, she was in a vulnerable state. She felt so alone most of the time that she could barely breathe and she wanted to ease the pressure by crying, but always found her tears all dried up. She was desperate for some sort of release.

And Spike is the one to provide it? Exactly how far were you planning to go with him?

She swallowed hard and tried to again shut the musings out of her head. But they wouldn’t leave her be now.

You’ve looked at him like this before. Long before. You refused to even acknowledge it, but you can’t deny it now, Buffy. Can you? When you looked at him just now, what did you see? Last year...

Last year nothing. He is not human.

He sure looks like one, though. If you pretended for just a second…

I am not going to ‘pretend’ anything when it comes to him. He’s a vampire, he’s soulless, he’s evil – no matter how much he tries to help me. Case closed.

Simple as that. Amazing. Take another look, Buffy, before you pass out judgment. Has anyone, ever, looked at you with that amount of hunger and need before? Why do you think you get so stuck in his eyes? He looks at you as though you’re all he’s ever wanted and all he ever will want. You can’t fool yourself into thinking that you don’t relish in that. You can’t fool yourself that deep down you don’t want him, that you haven’t desired him for a longer time than you would ever admit.

“Okay, so let’s see what’s on HBO, shall we?” she asked, grabbing the remote and beginning to press the buttons in search of the channel. “I haven’t watched this thing in ages, but I remember HBO have some high quality stuff.”

“Buffy,” he said quietly and she ignored him as she flipped through the magazine to find the number for the channel. “Buffy...” he repeated.

“What?” she asked, whirling her head to him impatiently as she raised her eyebrows.

“I’m overstaying my welcome,” he murmured and her hands settled on her lap. She couldn’t not stare at him at this statement. “I should leave...”

“You came here just to go again?”

He furrowed his brow, questioningly.

“You asking me to stay?” he wondered and she blinked innocently before she replied:

“Don’t get any ideas. I’d have settled for a dung-beetle if it meant I didn’t have to sit here by myself.”

He cocked an eyebrow, then made as to rise and she reached out a hand, placing it on his arm and stopping him.

What am I doing? What am I doing?

He turned his head to her and she smiled a small smile as she said:

“Sorry, didn’t mean it to sound like how it came out...”

“You mean, like how you formed the sentence?” he asked and she put on a sheepish expression as he sat back again.

She looked at him with a glint of hope in the green and he had to smile at it.

“If I didn’t know better, Slayer... I’d say you actually want me here.”

“I’m glad you know better then,” she said meaningfully and he smirked.

They eyed each other in stillness for a stretching minute and then she shifted slightly in her seat, growing self-conscious and feeling in complete lack of what to say. He seemed to notice it as he gave a nod to the TV and took the task of conversation upon himself as he asked:

“So, what’re you in the mood for?”

Her eyes grew just a bit as she let that question sink in, and then she realized which context it was in and she giggled before she could stop herself, shaking her head at herself before she met his gaze again:

“I dunno. We were watching dogs earlier,” she shrugged.

“Dogs?”

“Yeah, jumping through hoops and dancing on two legs and... you know, the regular stuff.”

“And you want some more of that? ’Kay, let’s find an animal channel,” he suggested and she looked at him for a second in a way that made him stop himself. “What?” he then wondered and she smiled again, this time a bit warmer and he felt a link of it cautiously entangle itself with the stillness of his veins.

“Sometimes I just...” she began, but trailed off as she once again was caught up in him. He waited, and she finished: “Sometimes I just wonder.”

“About what?” he asked and she smiled for a second time.

“About... you. About what would’ve happened if things had been...”

“Different?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

“Different how?” he asked. “And what could’ve happened? I’m not bloody exaggerating if I say you tend to dislike me. A lot.”

“That’s why things ‘d need to be different.”

“What things, specifically?”

“Everything!”

At that he smiled.

“And if things were different, how would they be?” he inquired.

“I don’t know! We could be road-side performing dogs traveling cross-country!”

He laughed.

“Yeah, you’d be Scruffy – the wonder pup.”

“Well, then... you’d be Fang – mean, lean, killing machine,” she shot and at that he smirked before it faded and he held her gaze, then asked:

“Have you really thought about it?”

“Scruffy and Fang?” she asked back and he chuckled before he once again grew serious.

“No,” he then answered. “Me.”

“I didn’t mean you as in you-you. I was just saying that at rare times... Maybe just one half-time and hardly even that I just... Can we drop this now?” she stuttered and he observed her face relentlessly, making her feel light headed.

And then he slowly began to lean closer. She couldn’t really feel her heart beating, but her palms were growing sweaty and her eyelids heavy and her lips aching with anticipation as she carefully moved to meet his mouth with hers. His right hand slid up to her cheek and she closed her eyes completely at the touch as his lips were practically brushing against hers and...

“...HAVE BEEN SAID TO...” the TV suddenly blared, making her jerk away from him as her heart in the next instant was trying to hammer through her chest.

At first she couldn’t understand why the anchor woman was screaming the news at them, but then she realized that the remote was in her lap and that she must have hit some button.

Lowering the volume she took a breath and tried to stay away from the fact of Spike almost kissing her. Of her almost kissing Spike. Of them being just one tenth of an inch from kissing each other.

Her body felt as though all strength had gone out of it, as though her bones had melted away. She knew she would have a hard time standing up and wondered if this state was some form of shock.

“What channel was that movie on again?” she asked, unable to look at him.

Too frightened to even glance at him. Terrified of what she might do, what she might want...

“’Breakfast at...’?” he began, but she nodded her head at the sound of his low voice, feeling it ripple through her, and interrupted him by saying:

“That’s the one. Ah, here it is. Let’s see if we can’t enjoy it. You said you we’re sure I’d love it. It’s a classic, right? I actually like classics. They’re so... sophisticated. So... old, you know? Like... from the past or something.”

She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t stop. Anything to keep him from asking her what exactly she thought she was doing almost doing what she almost did.

And then his hand moved away her locks from her neck and she could have sworn her heart had an attack and went dead because the swirl of butterflies in her stomach made her think she was going to faint. She was breathing heavily though she tried to disguise it. His lips connected with the sensitive skin of her neckline and she closed her eyes as the feeling made a throb start up within her, sending waves of heat to journey through her.

She drew another shaky breath before gathering the shreds of willpower she had left and turned to him. He looked up at her before straightening his back and she didn’t want to seem pleading, but knew that was the expression her eyes bore as she rested them in his.

“Spike,” she more or less whispered and he nodded hardly noticeably before he moved his hands to take hold on her upper arms, pulling her to him.

She could feel the taut muscles beneath his black T-shirt, how his chest rose with air it didn’t need to have in its lungs; but most of all she felt the sudden rush of taking what she craved as it surged through her and all she could think was yes.

He looked down at her and didn’t hesitate.

He joined their lips harshly, deepening the kiss in the same manner and when she moaned he wrapped
his arms around her to hold her even closer to him. Her arms slipped up and locked behind his neck as she returned the kiss eagerly.

His tongue was demanding and strong and it danced with hers, making her crave more, making her want it to never stop.

She pulled away from him abruptly, about to get to her feet as she said:

“I can’t do this.”

But he stopped her easily enough as he reached up and grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his lap instead and when she felt the hardness of him through his jeans she couldn’t fight her own excitement anymore. It was ripping through her in a way it never had with anyone before him and she had to have him inside of her, quenching it, killing it; or she’d lose her mind.

Their lips joined once more and he tilted her over to the side before moving to lie between her legs.

She was panting, groaning into his mouth, moving with him as he grinded his hips with hers. Wanting to tear those silly excuses for an obstacle still between them off of her.

“We can’t... not in the house,” she breathed as he pinned her arms over her head and began to kiss his way down the side of her throat. “Dawn... She might... wake up...”

“We’ll be quiet,” he murmured, pulling up to look down at her and she felt every ounce of resistance slide off her as she met his kiss.

She got his duster off him as he tore the top she was wearing into two parts. She didn’t have time to protest as his mouth found one of her nipples and she had to clench her jaws together to not gasp out her pleasure.

Pulling at his T she finally got it over his head and he sat on his knees as he began to undo his pants. She licked her lips, watching him for a few moments and catching her breath before she sat up and planted lingering kisses all over his chest.

She lay back down as his fingers slipped to her own pants and simply let him remove them as she couldn’t help but admire every last nook and cranny of him. God, he was perfect.

He had rid her of the last piece of clothing and as he looked down at her she suddenly grew very aware of the fact that this was the first time she lay splayed out like this, in utter frailty, before him.

His eyes showed her, however, just how much he approved of what he saw and when he sunk down to place himself on top of her she felt the wanting blossom in every single cell.

He crashed their lips together and she met it with as much fervor. Her hands sliding over his back and into his hair as she kissed him deeply.

“Spike,” she gasped.

“Buffy,” he got out just as he suddenly slid off the couch and pulled her with him.

She landed on top of him and they looked at each other for a second before they began to laugh.

“You okay?” she asked.

He smiled a small smile before reaching up a hand and letting it glide through her hair; then he nodded.

“Never better,” he replied and she returned the smile before they both slowly grew serious.

She let one finger slip over his lower lip and then she moved her head forward and kissed him carefully. She closed her eyes and the kiss deepened gently. He was so strong, and yet so delicate. His muscles, sculpted as they moved beneath his skin, showed such clear ability to push her to the other side of the room, and yet now they met her caresses as though they had been waiting for them for an eternity.

Perhaps they had.

She slid one hand down and guided him into her, closing her eyes as her mouth fell open when he filled her and then having his lips against hers again, meeting his kiss as she stifled her moans when they began to move together.

Small white dots and snowflakes and she was running somewhere out of her body and he was reaching for her and he held her so tightly and he was whispering her name and he was kissing her and kissing her and God, he was such a good kisser and... stars everywhere and the pleasure, it was almost insane how good she felt. Wrapped in his arms and his kiss and his need and his love and she didn’t want to leave... The world was far away. Far, far away with its sharpness and brightness and she wanted to stay with him... Within him. Guarded.

She opened her eyes and looked down at him and for one moment she felt as though she would die inside if she ever lost him. If he ever left her she would wither and scurry to the wind. She saw him, the man... A man she could...

“Buffy.”

She sat up on the couch with a sharp breath in surprise and blinked as she tried to focus her disoriented gaze. Where was she? What had happened... Where was...

“Spike?” she asked, clearing her throat slightly as she stared up at him where he stood beside her, fully clothed.

“You okay, love?” he asked and she felt how her throat was drying up, how there was something empty growing somewhere inside, how she had lost him.

It had been a dream.

“Oh, my God,” she murmured, running one hand through her hair as she blinked the last of sleep out of her eyes.

It had been a dream!

“You were dreaming,” he said, as though he had read her mind and wanted to underline her own exclamation-point; walking around the table and then looking back at her. “Seemed pretty disturbing too. You were murmuring.”

“M-murmuring?” she asked, smiling nervously. “I don’t talk in my sleep, Spike.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he stated.

“And what did I supposedly say, then?”

“Must-give-Spike-rights-to-ravish-me,” he smirked and she suppressed the smile easily as her nerves tangled up into tight knots at the mere thought. “Sorry,” he then said in light of his freshness and she shook her head dismissively.

“What do you want?” she asked and he tilted his head a little to one side before he replied:

“Well, I’m always up for some brain cell’s-killing fun. If you’re planning to make a night out of it, I mean.”

She stared at him. She recognized that particular choice of words far too well to not have them rattle her as he stood there saying them with such simplicity, in such oblivion. But then she shook it off and got to her feet. It was nothing but pure coincidence. And it wasn’t like that dream had had any anchor in reality anyways. There was nothing to get worked up over.

“Personally I’ve had just about as much as I can take of the messing with my brain for tonight,” she said, adding: “But I think I could take another hour with some of the taking-my-mind-off-everything variety.”

He smirked, nodding his agreement to that.

She ignored the mental image of how he a few moments earlier had been all she had needed to take her mind off absolutely everything by...

Stop this!

Already done, she assured herself as she moved around the table.

“I’m gonna go get a glass of water... Want some?” she asked as she walked past him; to that he shook his head but as she brushed past him he asked:

“Has anyone ever told you...?”

She froze dead in her tracks, covering her reaction to the question with difficulty as she turned her head to him with a wondering expression, her heart starting to do flip-flops of familiarity in her chest.

“Told me... what?” she wondered and he smiled slightly.

“That you have excellent taste in scent.”

Her eyes grew involuntarily round at that and she wet her lips slightly, returning the smile stiffly before she stripped it and made a gesture to the door, saying:

“You need to go.”

“But, you just...”

“I know,” she stopped him. “I thought I could... Or we could... But, we can’t. I just realized we don’t work well together and we’ll probably end up in another fight and it’ll wake up Dawn and upset her and she won’t be able to go back to sleep and then I’ll spend half the night up telling her everything’s fine when it really isn’t because...”

She finally drew a breath, trailing off as she met his gaze. Seeing the quizzical wait in them she sighed.

“Yes?” he asked slowly and she rolled her eyes at him.

“You just need to go,” she replied.

He cocked his scarred eyebrow, incredulous.

“What just happened? You went from cool to bleeding hot in about one-point-three seconds. And you look a little flushed,” he stated.

“Go,” she said, giving him a rather annoyed glare.

“I wanted to...” he tried to protest.

“Go,” she cut him off, grabbing his arm and then ushering him to the door.

“But I really wanted to watch...”

“If you don’t shut up about the TV I’m gonna...” she said, putting up an index finger threateningly and he looked down at her in a challenge for her to proceed, reminding her so much of how he had always looked at her before he began to wear his non-existing heart on his sleeve that she couldn’t hold back a smile.

His face softened immediately and he returned the smile, tentatively.

“What now?” he then asked.

She shook her head.

“Sometimes you make me wonder,” she stated, her eyes widening the next moment and she bit her tongue as she grabbed the doorknob and opened the door up.

“Wonder about?” he asked.

“Nothing special,” she answered him with another smile, hoping it would make him drop it. But as his eyes seemed to merely grow even more filled with curiosity she hastily added: “Now – go. Please.”

“Aw, Slayer. You think I came all the bloody way over here, just to leave again?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure. And the next day and the next and so whatever reason you had to come see me in the middle of the night’ll surely be there in the morning, won’t it?”

He hesitated, then gave a small bow in acknowledgement of that truth and stepped through the doorway. She closed the door and then shut her eyes before she leaned against it.

He could really be the most stubborn, aggravating, dense...

Couldn’t he get it through his thick skull that it didn’t matter what he tried to charm her, it wouldn’t work? Not ever! He would never seduce her the way he did other women. She knew he wasn’t gentle, she knew he wasn’t for tenderness. He wanted it raw, harsh and hard. He wanted it violent.

Yeah, she knew him better than he thought she did.

And she could never want what he wanted.

Never.

“Scruffy and Fang,” she huffed before she pushed away from the door and walked back into the living room, unaware of the trace of a smile still resting along the lines of her mouth or how it gently disappeared as she successfully blocked out the last images of him fitted beneath her and how his hands, his lips, his gaze had made her feel.

Guarded.

Wanted.

Needed.

Loved.