TITLE: The TALK

AUTHOR: Marie Braden

E-MAIL: polexxia@polexxia.com

SUMMARY: Spike deals with his infatuation w/Buffy

RATING: PG, maybe PG-13 if the characters actually do what I expect them to do.

TIMELINE: Post-Triangle

DISTRIBUTION: Just let me know…..Not archived anywhere, as I'm new to all this.

SPOILERS:  Pretty much, yeah, everything up to Triangle. That should cover it.

DISCLAIMER: Mutant Enemy owns all the good parts, and I alone am responsible for the suckiness.

DEDICATIONS: To my husband, who got me hooked on this show to begin with. Even though he loathes fanfic.

"To kill this girl, you have to love her first." Spike heard echoes of Angelus in his head as he sipped at his cider, enjoying his memories of having copped a feel from Buffy as they were fighting Olaf the Troll. Not me. Never me. Not good enough for her. Just like Cecily. Just like my Princess. Just like all of them. "Bloody Hell, I'll show them. Her. Them." He tossed a bill onto the counter, butted out a cigarette, and whisked off into a night full of stars. Dru loved the stars. She talked to them. All they've ever done to me is laugh.

Back in his crypt, he knocked around things until he found what he had wanted: a pair of lacy pink underwear, some stinkroot, a few other bits and bobs. Raising a corporeal glamour shouldn't be hard. I'm sure even Red could do it. If he couldn't stop thinking about her, the Slayer, maybe he could get it out of his system this way. After all, don't men forget them once they've fucked them? He thought to himself, trying to quell the reminders that he had never been like that, had always been a romantic.

He tossed the items he'd gathered into a circle drawn on the floor. Sympathetic magic. Pathetic magic. Who woulda thought I'd be using her knickers for this? Chanting, he couldn't push away the images in his mind. Him. The Slayer. Naked. Sweaty. And while a corporeal glamour wouldn't really be her, it would look like her, talk like her…he inhaled…smell like her? But ….it didn't. He opened his eyes and saw….Joyce?

"Spike?" Oh God, how could this be? Oh Hell… he realized all of a sudden that it must have been Joyce's underwear he had snuck out of the house. Embarrassed, he turned away. At least it wasn't the pint-size one's. He picked up the spell book and began looking for an unsummoning spell. Then, battling back the disappointment, he gestured at the bed. "Here, luv, have a seat while I sort this out. Smoke?"

Joyce…for that was the only way he could think of her….shook her head and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I wouldn't mind…Do you have anything to drink besides…?" She gestured, with a quirky grin on her face. "You know, besides…blood?" Spike laughed, and reached into the fridge.

"This okay?" He tossed her a lager, and she laughed as she uncapped it. "Not quite the pisswater you Americans drink. But not quite as good as your cocoa….Though I did once try floating the little marshmallows in this. I was a bit pissed at the time."

"This is fine, Spike. Just fine. Rupert likes these…" Joyce sighed. "Well, he used to. I haven't really heard from him much lately. But I guess that's what it's like… Did Buffy tell you what I did? I….actually invited Dracula in for coffee…..I must be getting a bit…old. Lonely. Something."

Spike's mind reeled. He had know that a corporeal glamour would have the personality and memories of the person it was an embodiment of, but he hadn't thought it would be just like having them sitting here…talking…. hmm. Maybe Mummy Dearest would be able to give me hints about how to get to the Slayer's heart. I mean, she never liked Angelus all that much…She and I get along just fine. We understand one another….

Spike sat beside Joyce on the bed. "Joyce, you 'n I've always been kind of like friends, wouldn't you say? Maybe you can help me out a bit?"

"I'd hardly say friends, Spike! The first time we met, you were trying to kill my daughter. The second time, you tried to lie to me and tell me that you two were in…a band, of all things. Then, after my daughter hit me with the news that she was a Slayer, you positively *reveled* in the fact that your girlfriend had killed one! Like Buffy would say…HELLO! I mean, you're not exactly a white hat, are you?"

"Yeah, but Joyce, there's so much else we've been through since all that. I admit it, I'm not the nicest guy in town. But I've always been straight up w'you, haven't I? I mean, it was Angel, NOT ME, who went around tormenting you lot. And since I've got this chip, I'm a harmless little kitten…at least to your…our…girl."

"What on Earth are you babbling about, Spike? Is this about Drusilla AGAIN? I mean, face it. Move on. You loved her, these things don't always work out. Besides, she was a little…." Joyce twirled her finger by her ear. "Got another beer?"

Spike motioned towards the fridge. "Get me one, too, hmm? That's just it, Joyce. I'm over Dru. Well, not in the sense of over her. More like, moving on. In fact, you know, I've been with Harm for, oh I don't know, on and off a year now….Except that she…well, dumb as a post and annoying as fleas. The kind of girl you shag and then forget about, y'see? No, you're a girl, you wouldn't. Look, let's face it: I've fallen for your daughter and I want your help at getting to her."

…Here endeth part one…