A Valid Lifestyle Choice

By Fyre


TITLE: A Valid Lifestyle Choice
AUTHOR: Fyre
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: After being rejected by Buffy, Spike finds a new friend and love-interest, in the form of everyones favourite red-haired witch.
FEEDBACK: Hey, if you like it, please comment. If not, I'll go and sulk in the corner.
DISTRIBUTION: Just YGTS, BuffyAngelImprov and here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: Right up to 'Crush' in Season 5.
COUPLE: W/S
RATING: PG13 or thereabouts
DISCLAIMER: Not mine - not fair :-P
CLASSIFICATION: Can't think of anything to say...
NOTES: Another challenge from YGTS, but with the impros from the Improv list and stuff :) And in this verse, Tara is simply a friend of Willow's nothing more and she and Oz chose to stay friends, instead of lovers.
DEDICATED: For RedRose who challenged it!
_________________________________________

Glancing back around the sun-drenched cemetery, the girl bit nervously down on her lip, her eyes flicking this way and that, searching for any observers.

Finding none, she quickly pushed the overly large door of the crypt open, stepping into the dank darkness, the scent of dampness and death hitting her like physical blow, a shiver running the length of her spine.

"Come to have a good laugh, pet?"

The red head squinted into the darkness, trying to find the owner of the voice, the shadows stretching around her unnaturally. Her vision slowly adjusted in the blackness, settling on a shadowy figure sitting in one of the alcoves. "Are...are you okay, Spike?"

"I'm just peachy, Red." The scent of smoke curled around her, the scent she had come to associate with the vampire more than anyone else. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Swallowing hard, she took a step towards him, ignoring the warning growl that rumbled from his direction. "I was at Buffy's, when she got home last night." She said significantly. "I just wanted to check you were all right."

"You really are too sympathetic, you know, luv." She could feel the blond vampire's icy scrutiny on her, but refused to be cowed. "Feeling sorry for a demon...could get you in all sorts of trouble, you know...Slayer certainly thought so..."

Sighing in frustration, she took another step towards him. "I don't give a damn if you're a demon or not." She said. "Hello? Dated a werewolf, picked a fight with an ex-vengeance demon, was friends with a vampire..."

"Yeah, you're just so bloody wonderful." The vampire's voice was rough, harsher than usual. "Get lost, Red. I'm not in the mood for pity. I just want to be left alone."

Willow's expression slipped into resolve-face, green eyes narrowing. "I'm not going anywhere, Spike." She moved closer, a strange smell reaching her. Her nostrils flared, her arms crossed over her chest. "I want to know what happened last night."

"Let's see." Spike gave a hollow chuckle. "Buffy told me she didn't want anything to do with me, my Sire decided to show face, my 'girlfriend' was dumped, Dru went nuts, I saved Buffy and Buffy told me to go to hell. What else is there?"

"Your Sire?" Willow's eyebrows furrowed. ""What do you mean? Angel was here?"

The vampire sniggered. "Not likely, luv." He spoke softly, a spume of smoke rising from the shadows surrounding him. "Angel wasn't me Sire. Great Poof did all the dirty work – the beatings, the domination, but only cos Dru was too crazy to do it herself...plus the sick bastard loved it."

"Dru's your Sire?" Her voice shrank to a tiny whisper.

"Give the girl a cigar." Spike's voice replied in a monotone, the glow from the tip of his cigarette flickering over his shadowed features. "I loved that crazy bitch so much, right from the first second I saw her. A hundred and twenty four years and I still feel the same."

"You were going to stake your Sire?" Willow nervously asked. "I mean, you were going to do it for Buffy?" Spike said nothing, his hooded eyes apparently focused on the cigarette. "You would really do that?"

The vampire gave the girl a quizzical look. "You're surprised, luv?"

"Very!" Pacing back and forward, she shook her head. "By staking your Sire, you're rejecting the vampire community forever. Angel did it. He killed Darla, but you're still all Grr and you were going to do it, just because you love Buffy! Not because of the chip! Goddess, Spike! I don't believe she didn’t tell me that!"

"How did you know...?"

The red head flushed. "I...kinda snuck a peek at the Watcher's diaries, when Giles wasn't looking. Did you actually tell Buffy that Dru was your Sire? I mean, I don't know if she would know, but I think it would have made a difference and I think she might…actually no..."

Interrupting the girl's babble, Spike had to smile faintly. "You're a surprising little thing, you know, Red." He noted, rising to his feet – fighting the urge to fall with all his resolve – and taking a step towards her, one hand clutched to his side, his eyes on her face. "But I don't need someone to be a go-between for me and the Slayer. If she wants me, she knows where I am. I won't push it...unless you want to do a love spell?"

"Don't even think about it!" She poked him warningly, taking a startled step back when he gasped, doubling over in pain. "Uh...what did I do?"

"Harmony didn't take our break up to well." He gave her a watery grin. "I think there might be some splinters left in there...nothing serious. Just stings a bit, y'know." He yelped as she pulled his hand aside and jerked up his shirt. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

The red head winked. "Ever played Doctors and Nurses, Spike?" She asked, steering the blond to his seat and directing him onto his knees, so she could examine the small, still bleeding cuts on his back. She realised it was the dark blood that had soaked through his shirt that she was smelling, making her feel faintly nauseous.

"Not like this, pet!" Fingers digging into the back of the chair, he gritted his teeth as her gentle hands examined the raised skin. Trust Harmony to use an unsanded arrow. "Why are you doing this, Red?"

Willow carefully gripped the tiny tip of a splinter with her nails, drawing it out slowly until she could get a firm hold of it, then tugged the full two-inch length out in one quick jerk. "Because I'm nice?" She suggested, probing carefully, the vampire's blood cold on her flesh. "Or because I want a chance to hurt you?"

Wincing as she tugged another piece of wood out, he pressed his eyes closed. "I think it’s probably the second." He admitted, grimacing. "Seriously, though, luv." He cast a glance back at her over his shoulder. "Why bother? Why not just finish me off? Its not like I'm much use."

"You got me." She reached up and mussed his hair. "I don't have many...male friends, apart from Xander and Giles...and not many are as interesting as you. I mean, I don't really know any centennials who still act like teenagers."

"I don't act like a teenager!" He muttered indignantly.

"Sure." Giving him a cocky smile, she returned to her work, withdrawing a further three shards of wood, before pausing with a frown. "There's still more in there." She said, touching the swollen flesh. A muffled giggle escaped her as the vampire gave a very un-manly squeal. "I have some tweezers and stuff at home and you'll need to get cleaned up..."

Pressing his hand over the half-sealed wound again, he twisted in his seat, regarded her curiously, a lock of blond falling over his forehead. "There you go, offering to help me again and all that. You really are nuts, pet."

"I may be nuts," She retorted petulantly. "But you're the one who is going to be at my mercy, if you let me get you cleaned up." Her green eyes twinkled devilishly. "Who knows what mischief I could get up to?"

Spike tried to hide a grin, but failed. "You know, luv, you really scare me a helluva lot more than any Slayer ever would."

"I'm guessing that means you're coming with me, then." Patting him on the head, the girl went to retrieve his blanket and duster, ready for the brisk sprint to her parent’s car that sat in the parking lot. "You're going to behave." She warned him.

Smacking her lightly on the derriere, he grinned innocently up at her, but Willow was one step ahead of him and his mode of transportation.

Spike, meet the car trunk.

* * *


Sprawled facedown on Willow's bed, Spike's fingers dug into the pillow his face was pressed against, the feeling of the small scalpel cutting into his skin unbearably painful, but strangely erotic, in a masochistic way. Little Red covered in his blood...

"It's a big one." Willow's voice spoke. She was straddling his thighs, her knees into the soft mattress on both sides of his body, her head bowed over his back.

"How can you see it at that angle?" Spike muttered around a mouthful of pillow, receiving a reproving smack across the back of his head from the young Witch. He bit back a yell, as her fingers spread the cut, the cold of the tweezers digging hard against his muscle and flesh. He could feel his blood starting to flow over the metal and forced down a yell.

Her fingers were lifted swiftly. There was no denying she was good at what she did. "Spike? Are you okay?" Turning his face from the pillow in which he had buried it, her found himself eye-to-knuckle with her bloody hand resting on his shoulder. "Are you still al...undead?"

"Hungry." Ice blue eyes fixed on her slim fingers, the dark red staining up to her knuckles. He tore his gaze away, looking up as she raised a hand to brush her hair back from her sweat-sheened face, leaving streak of crimson across her rosy cheek.

She nodded, swung off him. With one arm around his waist, she helped him shakily sit up, his back coated in a dozen different shades of red, his marble-white chest only marred by several bloody fingerprints leaving parallel stripes down the skin. "Stay here. I'll go and see what I can find. I usually have some in the refrigerator."

She returned several minutes later, the scent of fresh blood preceding her. A small mug was held between her hands, a cloth and towel draped over her wrists. Handing him the container, she gave him a sheepish smile.

"It's all I had." She said apologetically, moving behind him on the bed to clean his back with the cloth. He gave a world-weary sigh, lifting the novelty mug lazily to his lips and taking a mouthful.

His eyes widened in astonishment, the blood hitting him like caffeine would hit a mortal. It wasn't just any cheap old blood! This was quality human blood, pure, powerful and strong, yet sweet and fresh. So fresh, it was almost as if it had just been...

"Red?" The motion of the cloth on his back halted for a moment. "Where did you get this blood, pet?" The strength of the character, the power it exuded was rushing straight to his head, making him want to bounce around the room.

There was a lingering pause. "Um...why?"

"Its bloody great stuff!" He took another mouthful, letting the sweet, spicy flavour wash over his senses. Definitely powerful and full of life, but with smallest tint of loneliness and isolation. It never failed to amaze him how much could be learned from blood. "This is the kind of person every vamp wants to drink from at least once in their life time."

He could feel increased warmth radiating from the girl behind him. "I didn't have anywhere else to get any." She muttered, scrubbing at the blood on his back. "You were hungry and I had plenty to spare."

"This is *yours*?" He tilted his head to stare at her, yelping as she scrubbed harder, her face a dark shade of scarlet.

"So?" She lightened her touch again, aware of the pain he was obviously in. "It's only blood. I have a lot of the stuff. Why just waste it, when you looked like you wanted to start nibbling on my fingers? Don't think I didn't notice that."

"Er..." It was the vampire's turn to flush, the borrowed blood rushing to his cheeks in the same way it did for the girl. "Well...thanks anyway, pet. You're more of a nummy treat than I ever imagined." He waggled his brows at her suggestively.

She grinned at him, grabbing a swab off the bed beside her and cutting it to size. "You're crazy." She noted, her head dipping down behind him. He gave a startled, manly squeal of surprise as her warm lips brushed over his broken skin, before the dressing was sealed in place. "All kissed better."

The devilish smirk on her lips drew a chuckle from the vampire. "I might be crazy," He told her, trying his best to look wise. "But I'm not the one who just kissed my mortal enemy on the back, am I, pet?”

"My mortal enemy?" Willow slid off the bed and wandered over to her closet, digging through the piles of her parents clothing and finding a very appropriate T-shirt with a smile. "You're not my mortal enemy, Spike. You never were."

Catching the shirt, Spike raised his scarred brow at the image on the shirt, pulling it over his head quickly, mussing his hair even more. "So, if I was never your enemy, just who stole my thunder?" He enquired. "Anyone I know?"

"Well, " Sitting up on the chair beside the desk, she grinned ruefully. "The first one who really terrified me was the Master." She pulled a face. "He was just creepy, but then Buffy killed him, after he killed her."

"I think I missed that."

"Yup, you did." The red head agreed brightly. "But the only bad guys who scared me after that were Angelus," She shuddered. "Because she couldn't kill him. Not until it was far too late, even after I got his soul back."

Spike's face registered astonishment. The chit was as powerful as her blood suggested. Bloody hell! He had really underestimated the girl. "I can see why you would be afraid of the wanker, but who else was there?"

"Faith."

"Faith?"

She nodded. "The Slayer that replaced Kendra." Rising, she paced across the room, as Spike sipped some more blood, savouring the taste. "She went bad and I got taken prisoner by her once, then – the last time she was here – she stole Buffy's body."

"I bet blondie loved that." He smirked. "Wonder what she would have done if the bad girl had met any of you, while she was in her body."

"She did meet us." Willow turned to face him. "She was at the Bronze. Tara realised that she wasn't herself, but not before she went away and got intimate with Riley..."

Spike choked on the blood, trying not to laugh. "The bloody pillock two-timed her with her own body! I love it!" The vampire chortled, his blue eyes dancing gleefully, oblivious to the blood trickling down his chin.

"You're a messy creature." Willow leaned forward, in carer mode and wiped his chin with the corner of the towel she had left lying on the bed. "There..." She dabbed at the corners of his mouth in a scarily maternal fashion. "Now, wash your hands and clean your teeth before bedtime."

The vampire chuckled. "You know, luv, you just do that too well."

"I try." Folding the towel, she laid it carefully on the seat. "I've seen what naughtiness and badness can do to people...especially to me."

Spike frowned. "Uh?"

"Never mind..." Grabbing the vampire's hand, she pulled him to his feet. "I want something to eat. Let's take this to the kitchen." She paused to flick the light off. "And if you behave, I might tell you about the gorgeous, red-haired vampiress who was the scariest thing I ever actually had to face...you'd probably like her..."

* * *


"Ooh! I really love this part."

"Don't be bloody ridiculous! How can anyone like this part?"

The red head glanced up. "You're criticising my opinion?" She reached up and bapped him on the nose with a spoon. "I didn't argue with you about the Darth Vadar scenes, did I? No! I was all nice and sweet."

"As always." He gave her a saccharine-tinted smile. "So, tell me, why do you like this scene so much? Cos of those bloody fuzzballs?”

The vampire and the witch were sitting on the couch in the living room. One of Spike's legs lay along the length of the sofa, the other hanging casually off the side, while Willow reclined against him, her head resting against his chest.

In front of them, the television danced with images from the third of the three films that the pair had decided to watch, while the sun was still up outside.

"They're not fuzzballs!" She retorted indignantly. She smacked him on the leg in annoyance, as his hand snaked down and grabbed her pot of ice cream. "Spike!" Wriggling into a sitting position, she tried to snatch it back, only succeeding in having the vampire flick some ice cream onto her face, his grin infectious.

Licking the ice cream from his fingers, he regarded her thoughtfully. "So, luv, if they're not little fuzzballs, what are they?" He returned her tub to her, letting her settle back down again, keeping hold of his spoon.

"They're annoying pieces of living belly button lint. You know, the kind that just keeps coming and coming." She replied primly, delicately licking the raspberry ripple substance from her spoon with the tip of her tongue. "I want them all to get blown to bits." She tilted her head, catching the vampire's incredulous expression. "Sometimes, I'm callous and strange."

"I'm starting to see this." His hand dipped over her, catching a glob of ice cream from her tub and 'accidentally' dripping across her face, sniggering like a naughty schoolboy when he received another smack on the leg.

Tipping her head back, she glared at the upside-down vampire with her version of menace, eyes narrowed. "You better be willing to clean that off, Mister!" She wagged a finger up at him, fighting down a grin.

“If you insist, luv.” Holding her head between his hands, he was looming over her in an instant, his chilly tongue sweeping out and laving her ice-creamed cheeks. The red head squealed and wriggled, smacking his head, but to no avail. “There.” He sat back with a smug grin. “All clean.”

Sitting up, Willow glared at him, wiping her face with her sleeves. “Ew!” She reached over and punched him on the arm. “You licked me!”

“You don’t say.” His bright eyes twinkled impishly, the corners of his lips arcing up in a naughty smile. “And you tasted smashing.”

“What’s going on here?”

Both vampire and witch stifled a startled screech, spinning in the direction of the voice, Spike on his feet in an instant. “Er…luv, I’m guessing that would be your mother?” He glanced back and Willow nodded up at him sheepishly.

“Who are you?” Sheila Rosenberg suspiciously eyed the youth. Peroxide blond hair, a devil-may-care look in his eyes and a black “Sex Pistols” T-shirt that reminded her strangely of Ira’s, the boy looked like had leapt straight from the punk era and into her living room.

“Spike’s…a friend.” Willow elaborated, enjoying see the vampire squirm under her mother’s arrogant, confident gaze.

Her mother’s brow wrinkled. “What kind of name is Spike?” She demanded snidely. “Are you a crackhead or a criminal or something, young man?”

“Mom!” Willow groaned in despair. “He got the name Spike for another reason!” The vampire smirked. “God, you never even asked why Oz was called Oz, when I was his girlfriend.” She sighed in mock-annoyance at her mother. “Anyway, Spike came by after practise to watch a movie with me.”

“Practise?” Both the vampire and Sheila spoke at once, turning to stare at Willow.

The red head grinned. “Yeah, mom.” She deposited her remaining ice cream on the coffee table and sat up. “I’m in a band…”

“Yeah…” Spike glared daggers at her, regretting ever telling her the story of the truce. “She plays the…triangle.”

“Drums!” She put in petulantly.

“Er…drums.” He made a drumbeat motion with his hands and shrugged at Mrs Rosenberg. “Hell on the old skins.”

Sheila looked him up and down skeptically, she tilted her head with a frown. “And what do you do?” The vampire groaned inwardly, the question of all mothers rearing its ugly head to bite him firmly on the arse.

“Well, I sing…”

“Really?” Now, the bleached vampire was learning just where Willow had learned her sardonic arching eyebrow trick. Hereditary eyebrow-twitching muscles must have been a feature of the Rosenberg genes. “Let’s hear you.”

“Scuse me?”

Depositing her briefcase on the floor, Willow’s mother crossed her arms over her chest, her expression more terrifying than that of Darla when she was incredibly pissed off. “Let’s hear you sing, young man.”

“But…” He glanced back at Willow, stifling a growl at her impish expression. “I’ve had a cold. I haven’t been up to me usual standards.”

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine, Spike.” Willow put in sweetly, batting her eyes up at him. “You can’t sound much worse than you normally do.”

Praying to anyone who might be paying attention, the bleached vampire begged for the ground to open up and swallow him. Anything was better than having to actually *sing* in front of Willow and her mother.

“So…um…” Rubbing his palms against the seam of his jeans, he worked through what songs he could sing aloud without being cursed for all eternity by the sophisticated woman and her annoying and crazy daughter. “What kind of song?”

**Think, Spike! Think! They want you to sing…do something that they don’t expect, something nice…something so incredibly sappy, even Buffy the Ice Queen would melt…okay, maybe even Hell wouldn’t melt her, but think!**

Rosenberg Senior gave him a look that simply screamed “Get on with it!” and inclined her head towards the piano that stood unobtrusively in the corner. “Get yourself a starting note and get on with it.” She suggested in a way that seemed more of an order than a request.

Sighing, Spike reluctantly acquiesced. If he was going to make a tit of himself, he decided with an air of misery, he might as well do it properly.

Lifting the dusty lid of the piano, he depressed several keys, surprised to find that – in spite of its unused condition – it was perfectly in tune. Sliding onto the piano stool he cast a dark look at the smirking Wiccan, then started to play an old Phil Collins track.

“How can I just let you walk away Just let you leave without a trace,” His voice was soft, low, not really much more than a purr, his fingers moving expertedly over the keys. “When I stand here taking every breath with you…you're the only one who really knew me at all…How can you just walk away from me when all I can do is watch you leave, 'cause we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tears. You're the only one who really knew me at all…”

His head rocked in time with the rhythm of the bridge, his eyes half-closed as he let his hands do their work instinctively, sweeping along the black and white strips of ivory and ebony with the lightest of touches.

“So take a look at me now,” His words rippled around the room, the two women sinking in their seats, eyes half-closed. “Oh, there's just an empty space and there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face…Take a look at me now 'cause there's just an empty space and you coming back to me is against all odds and that's what I've got to face…”

By the final chords of the song, both Willow and her mother were astonished to realise that the blonde’s seductive singing had brought them both to tears. Spike remained motionless, gazing down at his hands that lay on the now-silent keys.

“That was…wow…” Willow clambered easily over the back of the sofa and gave the vampire an impromptu hug. “You didn’t tell me you could sing! You made me cry!” He looked over his shoulder at her, that wicked smirk of his playing on his lips. “You pig!”

He chuckled softly. “So, do I pass the mother-test, Mrs Rosenberg?” He directed his question at the woman, who was sitting and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

She didn’t answer, sniffing back another whimper and practically running out of the room, the silence only broken by the strains of the theme of Star Wars still blasting from the television, the closing credits scrolling up the screen.

“Well, pet.” Spike grinned broadly. “I think that went rather well, don’t you?”

* * *


Sitting side-by-side in the dark cinema, Spike risked a glance at his petite companion, all the while snaking his hand through the bottom of the half-full popcorn tub, the cardboard crumpling quietly as he tore through it.

Since the morning after Valentine’s Day, when the little, red-haired Witch had decided to pay him a visit, they had become increasingly chummy.

In the past few months, she had become his trusted confidante, always willing to listen to him, while he had become her ready and willing resource when it came to History and a companion to watch cheesy movies with.

The light from the screen was flickering over her features, one hand groping out towards the popcorn bucket, her attention completely focused on the film…

Until a hand grabbed hers from beneath the popcorn.

Every head in the cinema snapped round the moment the red head started shrieking, the bleached blonde beside her breaking into a fit of the giggles that did nothing for his “I’m big and bad so don’t you laugh at me” character.

“Spike!”

Dancing blue eyes rose to meet her, the vampire’s lips twitching as he tried to stop himself grinning. “What, ducks?”

“Don’t you give me that.” She glared at him, smacking him sharply across the back of his head, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. “It’s not fair, you always embarrassing me like this. I should stake your sorry ass!”

Looking ashamed, as best he could, the vampire whimpered, rubbing his head against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Willow. I’m bad. I’m nasty. I’m mean. I should be made to kiss every spot that your feet touch on the ground.” The devilish glint in his eyes drew an indignant grumble from the young Witch. “Will…could…can you ever forgive me, you wonderful, wonderful person?”

By the time he reached the end of his spiel, the vampire was on one knee on the floor, his voice carrying above the sound of the movie and every eye in the place was on the couple, Willow’s cheeks flushing scarlet.

Grabbing her bag, the wiccan whapped the vampire across the head hard enough to almost knock him unconscious, a soft laugh running through her. Settling back to watch the rest of the film, she left him lying there, ready and willing to ignore him.

But not quite able.

Ten minutes had passed when she felt a single cold finger snake under the bottoms of her skirt, tracing tiny circles on her skin and – being unbearably ticklish – she fought with all her strength not to wriggle away or encourage him.

Her toes curled as his ministrations moved up her leg, cool and steady and always, always horrifically ticklish. Of course, she reasoned, determined not to lose focus, he had years to learn the art of being sensitive.

That almost ripped a giggle from her. The thought of Spike and sensitive in the same sentence really didn’t bode well, but his hands were feeling so gentle against her skin, almost as if he were worshipping it, not tickling her senseless.

Spike worshipping her.

Goddess!

What had brought that thought on? Obviously not the seductive hands that belonged to the undead man who was currently caressing his way up her legs. The man who had become closer to her in the last six months than any of her friends.

The only one who had cared that her best friend and fellow Wicca – Tara – had left the country and had spent the days and nights reassuring that it wasn’t her fault that her friend’s family were all crazy sociopaths.

“Spike?” His head tilted up, blue eyes settling on her face. She crooked a finger, beckoning him up towards her. Shifting his weight, he rose on both knees until he was level with her, eye-to-eye, and grinned. “You’re annoying.”

He nodded, the grin slipping at the husky tone of her voice, the pale blue light from the screen dancing in her fiery green eyes. “I am.”

“And crazy.” Her hands rose to rest on his duster covered shoulders.

He nodded, watching her tongue flick out to moisten her lips. “That too.”

“You are too cocky.”

“All an act.”

She scooted forward in her seat, hands running down his chest. “And you always look like you’re going to cause trouble.”

“I usually am.”

“And I’m going to kiss you.”

“Not if I do it first.”

And there – in the back row of a darkened cinema – the red haired Wiccan and bleach-blond vampire, finally found out how to shut each other up.

Pulling apart, they re-took their seats and sat back to watch the remainder of the film in silence, their fingers interlacing across the arm of the chair, a small, brief smile exchanged between the pair of them.

“And you have stupid hair.”

“Shut up. Just bloody well shut up.”

* * *


“Well, I think it’s cute.” Anya stated, sitting on her usual perch of Xander’s lap.

Giles rolled his eyes in her direction. “Yes,” He replied dryly, “Well, you would, being the former vengeance demon and all.”

“That has nothing to do with me being a demon and you know it.” She cast a glare at her employer, snuggling closer against Xander. “Just because he’s a weird demon thing and she’s not, doesn’t mean they can’t be happy together.”

Rubbing his glasses on his shirt, Giles turned to the couple sitting on the couch, anxiously looking up at him, hand-in-hand. “You can obviously see I don’t really approve of this, can’t you?” He remarked, replacing his glasses on his face, preparing to rave until they actually listened to a word he was saying.

“Duh, Giles.” Buffy’s smile was a faint one, but a smile nonetheless. “I just…we couldn’t help it, after everything that happened.” She squeezed Ben’s hand reassuringly. “Glory’s gone now and I just want to get on with things…how many Slayers can say they dated a God?”

The Watcher’s concern was apparent. “But…”

“No buts, Giles. Not this time.” The Slayer got to her feet and approached the Englishman, taking his hand between hers. “I know its hard to accept, that this is Glory’s little brother, but she’s gone and we just want a chance to be happy…”

A cough from the other side of the room caught their attention. Willow gave a little wave. “Um, guys?” She gestured to the vampire’s whose lap she was sitting in. “If I could get some attention…I mean, I know I’m not the Slayer, but I thought you might like to know that I’ve got a new boytoy.”

“You have? That’s great!” Buffy enthused, grateful for a chance to relieve the tension in the room, without upsetting Giles any more. “So who is it? Anyone we know? Is he from college?”

The red head flushed, awkward that all eyes were on her again. “Actually, you do know him, but he’s not from school…”

“Then why are you sitting on Spike’s lap?” Anya enquired bluntly. Although she and Willow had never been friends in the beginning, she had come to like the young Wiccan, occasionally giving her pointers with some of her spells.

The vampire propped his chin on Willow’s shoulder, his face splitting in a wide grin, as Willow flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Guys, I think you all know Spike…” He waved, his arms wrapped securely around her waist.

“You and Deadboy!”

“Good Lord, Willow! Are you quite mad?”

“See! We all have our personal demons!”

“He could kill you!”

Willow gave them her resolve face, an immediate silence falling. “I think its great for you.” Ben put in quietly, a small smile on his face.

“Thanks, mate.” Spike nuzzled at Willow’s neck, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. “Why does everyone think I want to eat whoever I fancy?” He was silenced for a moment, when Willow kissed him. “Why would I want ‘em dead? They’re nummy enough alive.”

Giles sagged into the seat beside the table. “I give up.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “I truly give up.”

“I don’t get it, Will…how could you date a vampire? What happens if he gets the chip out? What then?” Buffy’s indignation didn’t go unnoticed.

Willow smiled wickedly. “At least I can have sex with my vamp, Buffy.” She nestled back against him. “No soul lossage, because he doesn’t have one to lose.” She raised a hand and caressed his cheek. “Anyway, who said anything about dating?”

“I’m in love with the little Witch.” Spike noted gleefully over her shoulder. “Bloody weird if you ask me, but I’m not going to ditch my girl just because some bony little chit thinks she has a right to ruin other peoples lives as well as her own.”

Buffy’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Last time I spoke to you, you told me you loved me. Do you just change your mind every time you’re rejected?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He replied, rubbing his hand over Willow’s belly lightly. “I might have loved you, but when you told me you didn’t care less if I killed Dru, I kind of…lost interest. Then Wills and I played Doctors and Nurses, I made a prick out myself and now, we’re heading for the ‘living happily ever after’ part.”

“All because I didn’t give a damn about you killing Dru?” Buffy rolled her eyes. “Like it would be that big a deal if she was dust.”

Willow felt Spike growling softly and stroked his cheek again. “You don’t understand what he was offering to do, Buffy.” She said, her voice quiet, eyes fixed on the vampire. “He was saying that if you would take a chance and love him, he would give up any claims he had of being a part of vampire society. Staking his Sire would have made him an outcast.”

“Drusilla is Spike’s Sire?” Giles interest suddenly perked up again. “A-and he offered to stake her as a declaration of his feelings?”

“Pretty much.” The vampire shrugged. “Worked in theory, but I ended up getting staked, dumped twice and rejected once in one evening, so it kind of put me off the whole idea, until Red, here, decided I needed a good kick up the arse to stop me becoming a second Brood-boy.”

Xander frowned. “You said Angel was your Sire.”

“Yeah,” Spike smirked. “He’s what? Two hundred and forty something years old? It sounds a helluva lot better to have an infamous two hundred year old vampire recorded as your Sire than having a loony ex-nun on paper.”

Giles seemed to be working through some deep thoughts. “You were a-actually willing to stake her? You would have killed her after a hundred and more years?”

“I would have done it for the Slayer that night.” He nodded. “But, I’d do it for Willow this very second, if Dru showed face. I don’t need the dozy cow anymore. She chucked me and I found someone better, saner, smarter and as beautiful.”

“And I hope you’re not talking about Harmony there.” Willow murmured softly, only to muffle a squeal when the vampire nipped her bottom. “Anyway, you guys, I’m not going to change my mind and I still think we’ve all made very valid life styles choices.”

“Me and my demon.” Xander nodded, hugging Anya close.

Buffy shook her head with a low sigh. “My God.”

“Exactly.” Ben agreed with a shy smile, stepping around the couch and taking her small hands from Giles. The Slayer blushed furiously and threw her arms around the young-looking man.

“And me an’ my witch.” Spike stood up, almost dropping Willow in a heap, but for his arms securely around her slim waist, holding her close. “Although you’re all probably thinking her and her vampire.” He nipped her ear lightly. “All we need to do now is find old Giles a demon of some kind and we’ll all be happy.”

The sharp knock at the front door interrupted the happy chatter and Giles called back over his shoulder, as he went to answer it. “I think I’m going to just stick with humans, thank you all very much. No demons for me.”

“Good afternoon, Mister Giles. We have some rather bad news…”

One God, one vampire, one Slayer, one Witch, one ex-vengeance demon and one human all exchanged knowing glances as Joyce Summers, the only single women any of them knew, stepped into the house.

Although she was accompanied by a tall, dark, not unfamiliar brooding man who looked like he had come to announce that the sky was falling down, none of them really gave a damn at all, knowing that they had a task.

Three determined, quazi-young, supernatural-and-human couples were about to direct two perfectly normal, but more mature human adults into making a blindingly obvious and extremely valid life style choice.

But only after they stopped the world from ending...again.


Back to the Character Index
Back to the Title Fictions