The Guy Thing 15/18: Spike

Spike leaned back and grinned.

It was hard for him to reckon. He had always hated slayers. Including the
incumbent. Until. . .

It was hard to put a finger on it exactly. It was after he had been
chipped. Somewhere around the time that he was the unwelcome guest at the
bloody watcher's place, chained to the bathtub and spending his days waiting
for Passions to come on, trying to convince Giles to get one of those
satellite dishes so they could watch EastEnders instead. It would have been
nice to watch some telly where nobody spoke with an accent.

No. It was after that. He clearly remembered really hating Buffy during
that period. Except for those few hours they were engaged. No, he hated
her then, too.

He clearly remembered moving into his crypt and wondering if Buffy would
like it. The first real hint.

So, before the crypt, then. He had been at that wanker Xander's place.
Yes, he could remember the precise day. He had woken up with these thoughts
about cuddling with the slayer, and had mentally been trying to compose an
ode to her, in iambic pentameter, mentally running though the alphabet to
find words that rhymed with 'slayer', and coming up with 'lay 'er', which
didn't have the right romantic feel to it.

The poet in him hadn't surfaced in years. Odd that it should return. Not a
lot of vampire poets around. Punk rock vampires, yeah. But no poet
vampires that he could recall.

He had felt . . . conflicted. And owright, trying to stake himself had
been a bit overboard, but it at least had the effect of making it clear. He
wanted the slayer. For his own, do the dance of death, yeah. But he also
wanted to recite poetry to her, his own poetry, and snuggle next to her on
the porch of a summer's evening as the fireflies played in the yard, put
garlands of flowers in her hair, teach her to do a Morris Dance of a summer
solstice evening. Cor! He ought to be ashamed .. or more ashamed than he
was. . .

Spike sighed. He hadn't wanted to snuggle since . . . well he ascended
into his present vampiric form. And yeah, he wanted to shag her silly as
well. But it was the quiet moments just sitting in each other's arms,
whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears that he truly craved.

Just needed to get that damned G.I. Joe out of the way. And maybe Xander
was doing that for him. No, he thought. The lad hadn't had the stones to
shag Spike, and he had been all ready to go. No way the lad would ever do
the slap and tickle with the slayer's boy-toy.

Still Spike grinned evilly. Too good to be true, that. Young Nummy Treats
and G.I. Joe having a go at each other. Lord, they seemed practically ready
to snog the golly out of each other the other night in Willy's Place. Too
bad these mortals never followed through.
 

========================