Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Buffy Fanfiction > Shaddyr > Entertainment Value

Entertainment Value
by Shaddyr

 

Spike sat cross-legged on top of the crypt and watched the poetry in motion that was the slayer. Her lithe, compact body spun through a series of kicks and feints as she battled the two vampires who had been foolish enough to engage her.

He sneered at their incompetence. "Bloody fledglings," he muttered. "Not gonna last two minutes against her." A moment later, the object of his disdain was a puff of dust on the wind. He smirked.

His ears caught a sound behind the crypt he was using as a vantage point and he leaned back to peer over the edge. Three more vampires were shuffling up. Spike turned back to consider the slayer, and frowned.

Buffy was favouring her left side - he'd seen her take a nasty blow the night before. To his experienced eye, she appeared to be tiring. If these three got the jump on her, they just might have a chance.

He pursed his lips and considered the situation thoughtfully. While it would be entertaining to see the slayer go under and get sucked dry, he felt rather proprietary about her. He made a decision.

He jumped down behind the ambush party. His sudden appearance shocked the trio and they stumbled back a bit, but then the leader of the small party stepped forward and squared off against him.

"Spike." The gangly young vampire sneered down at his elder. "This is our kill. We're taking the slayer down once and for all. Don't try to get in our way, or we'll take you down too."

He chuckled at that. "I'm scared, really I am," he commented as he reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around the stake residing there. "Or not."

He attacked with gusto, staking the two fledglings behind the leader in a swift flurry of motion. The not so fearless leader tried to make a break for it, but Spike caught him a second later and knocked him to the ground. He pinned him there with a knee on his chest and waved the stake in his face.

"Tsk, tsk." Spike clucked his tongue as he shook his head. "When will you young upstarts learn? The Slayer is *mine*. Got that?"

The vampire beneath him nodded frantically, eyes wide with fear. Spike sighed and let him up. He scrambled to his and backed away.

"Spread the word," Spike advised him in an annoyed voice. "Now sod off." The cowed vampire nodded again, and made a beeline across the cemetery, away from him.

Slipping his stake back into his pocket, Spike fished out his cigarettes and lit one up. Bloody wankers had interrupted his nightly entertainment. As he took a deep drag, he felt her presence, and smiled.

"What are you doing here?"

Spike casually sauntered back over to the crypt and leaned against it, then glanced up at the blond spitfire before him. She stood glaring at him, hands on her hips. She was rather disheveled, with dirt streaked down her face and a few leaves stuck in her hair. He wisely forced down a smirk.

"Havin' a smoke, slayer. What the hell does it look like?"

She scowled, fingers tightening convulsively around the stake she still carried in her right hand. "I meant what are you doing *here*? Now? Where *I* am? This is the third time this week I've caught you skulking nearby while I've been patrolling." Her eyes narrowed. "Are you planning something? Are you following me? Cuz, totally willing to stake your ass to the wall over here, chip or no."

"Now, now, slayer, is that any way to talk to your former fiancé?" He couldn't hide the grin as she spluttered and choked over that one.

"You... you... argh! Trying to repress, here, you bleached moron!" she was about to say more, but he cut her off.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Slayer. As amusing as it is to watch you fumble about in that parody of what you call fighting, I'm just out and about enjoying the night air."

"Right. And I believe you, 'cuz you are so totally trustworthy."

"And doing evil stuff. Cuz, you know. I'm evil."

"Uh-huh. Fine. Whatever, Spike. Just stay the hell out of my way, and keep your nose clean. Or poof. Eternity in a dust buster." She turned on heel and walked away.

"Bitch," he grumbled, just loud enough for her to hear. Without turning around, she held up and hand and flipped him off. He watched her retreating form, his eyes lingering on the sway of her ass beneath the oh so short lycra skirt.

After a few more drags, he crushed out the cigarette, and let out a snort. Stupid bint was obviously off to hunt up some more vampires even though it was evident she should really call it a night. He sighed. What was the point of saving her scrawny arse if she was going to go off and get jumped by some other big ugly when he wasn't around? Then what the hell would he do for entertainment?

He followed after her, careful to maintain a discreet distance. It wouldn't do to have her catch him twice in one night. It wasn't like he really cared if she lived or died, he thought. It was just that he felt she was *his* slayer. If anyone deserved to take her out, it was him. As he melted into the shadow, he tried not to think about why the rationalization felt so hollow.