Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Absolutely none of this is mine, thank you
for reminding me. So, no need for violence and raging fits, 'cause I'm
perfectly aware that I'm stealing parts of Joss's not quite so perfect
universe, just for my own amusement. And hopefully yours. Up to you, I
guess.
Summary: Set sometime during Storyteller, 7.16. Spike gives Buffy a motivational talk, but some interruptions might cut it short.
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first completed, posted Buffy fanfiction. Hope you like it, but don't really care much if you don't. But the episode Storyteller was hilarious beyond words, and it was just too good of a situation to pass up. So, have a little fun!
The Producer's Romance Scene
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Spike looked up from his book to see Buffy peeking her head into the room.
"Uh, can I come in?"
"It's your room, luv."
"Oh. Right." Buffy smiled sheepishly, and moved into the room. "Watcha doin'?"
Spike held up the book for her, before lowering it again, and resuming his reading. Buffy shuffled around awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, sparing him nervous glances every so often. After a few minutes, Spike looked up again.
"Is there something you wanted, pet?"
Buffy's head shot up, a bit flustered. "Oh, uh, no..um, nothing, sorry...uh...yes. I just...I kinda wanted to talk."
Spike arched an eyebrow, but shut his book, placing it on the table next to the bed. "What of?"
Buffy bit her lip. "Well, I sorta just wanted to rant...y'know, about the First."
Spike slowly stood up from the bed, turning towards her, his face that of a ready listener. "Rant away." When Buffy shifted again, he sighed. "Listen, luv, what's up? You're acting all twitchy. Is something wrong?"
"Not anymore than usual." She sighed deeply, preparing herself. "I...well, I feel like...sometimes I...oh, damnit, Spike, I'm scared." Now that it was all out, she felt considerably lighter, knowing that she had told someone, albeit that someone was Spike.
Spike didn't even blink, just moved closer to her. "And we're ashamed...why?"
Buffy blinked in confusion, staring up at him. "Well, 'cause I'm the Slayer...the leader, I'm not supposed to be afraid."
Spike snorted. "What bloody wanker told you that?" off her incredulous look, he added, "Being a leader doesn't mean to don't feel fear. It just means you don't let it rule you. Of course you're scared...hell, I'm scared. There's nothing wrong with that. An apocalypse is a scary thing to most, whether it's a reoccurring thing or not. It's the part of you that looks past the fear, the part of you that doesn't let it show in front of the girls, for their sake, that makes you their leader. It's that kind of strength that makes you the Slayer."
Buffy stared, wide-eyed at him, awed at the insight of the vampire before her. She stepped a bit closer. "How do you do that?"
His eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "Do what?"
"Make everything seem okay. Make it acceptable to be terrified, make it seem like the end of the world isn't quite as bad as it seems. I mean, you're supposed to be evil, but your all smart and insightful and all that stuff, and you make better speeches than me, god damnit!"
Spike smirked. "What can I say, luv? It's a gift."
"You have a whole lot a those." Buffy grumbled.
Spike inched closer to her. "What, jealous of m' speech makin'? Cor, Slayer, maybe if you didn't use yours so much, you wouldn't wear it out."
Buffy stepped forward, eyeing him indignantly. "Are you implying that I talk to much to the young, inexperienced potentials?"
Spike took a step forward as well. "That's exactly what I'm implying."
They were nose to nose now, Buffy's eyes flashing angrily, Spike's glinting with barely repressed laughter. Then Buffy lost a bit of her anger, and her eyes flickered down. "So, my speeches are bad?"
Spike's eyes twinkled. "No, luv, not bad...just maybe a bit overused."
She looked up at him then, a bemused smile curling her lips. "But not bad?"
The corner of Spike's lips twitched. "Not one bit."
"Really?"
"Really."
They'd slowly been leaning forward, now merely a hairsbreadth apart. Spike's hands came to rest lightly on her hips, while Buffy's found his biceps, clutching on to them. She could feel his warm breath on her lips, raising the hairs on the back of her neck in anticipation, waiting for the first second of contact. They pressed just a little bit closer...
A faint beep sounded from the doorway. The couple froze, then slowly turned their heads, greeting the sight of Andrew, holding on to his video camera and staring at the scene with a sort of fond gaze, which quickly turned to terror when he noticed the fierce stares of the two warriors directed at him.
Spike growled. "You die, TODAY!" With that, he promptly took off after the fleeing form of Andrew, Buffy following close behind.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Willow sat on the couch next to Xander, lounging in the Summers living room, flipping through a magazine. She glanced at Xander, who was staring intently at a comic book in his lap. She crinkled her forehead curiously.
"Where did you get that, anyway?" she asked him inquisitively, glancing at the unfamiliar pictures.
Xander looked up, shaking his gaze to rid himself of his comic book induced daze. "Oh, Andrew has this great dealer, owns all the best comics, and some of the rarest editions ever, and he got me a few, and it's really cool, 'cause, y'see, in this one, he's gonna...yeah, and...he's a total freak. Comic books suck. Yeah." Xander covered, quickly tossing the comic book onto the coffee table.
Any further taunting was interrupted by three streaks of blond, some girlish squealing, and a very distinct string of British curse words shooting by. A small, silver box bounced onto the chair by the sofa, unnoticed by those involved in the pursuit. Willow and Xander exchanged a curious glance, before Willow stood to retrieve the box.
She lifted it off the chair, quickly discovering it to be Andrew's video camera. She took another quick look at Xander, then glanced at the place where the three blonds had just been, before shrugging her shoulders, and turning the camera on, moving to follow them.
"Why the hell not?"
Author's Note: Well, that's it. That idea's just been bugging me for weeks. Hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, well, that's nice, keep it to yourself, and if you just can't, throw darts at your computer. Just dodge them when they bounce off.
Summary: Set sometime during Storyteller, 7.16. Spike gives Buffy a motivational talk, but some interruptions might cut it short.
Author's Note: Okay, so this is my first completed, posted Buffy fanfiction. Hope you like it, but don't really care much if you don't. But the episode Storyteller was hilarious beyond words, and it was just too good of a situation to pass up. So, have a little fun!
The Producer's Romance Scene
A soft knock sounded on the door, and Spike looked up from his book to see Buffy peeking her head into the room.
"Uh, can I come in?"
"It's your room, luv."
"Oh. Right." Buffy smiled sheepishly, and moved into the room. "Watcha doin'?"
Spike held up the book for her, before lowering it again, and resuming his reading. Buffy shuffled around awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, sparing him nervous glances every so often. After a few minutes, Spike looked up again.
"Is there something you wanted, pet?"
Buffy's head shot up, a bit flustered. "Oh, uh, no..um, nothing, sorry...uh...yes. I just...I kinda wanted to talk."
Spike arched an eyebrow, but shut his book, placing it on the table next to the bed. "What of?"
Buffy bit her lip. "Well, I sorta just wanted to rant...y'know, about the First."
Spike slowly stood up from the bed, turning towards her, his face that of a ready listener. "Rant away." When Buffy shifted again, he sighed. "Listen, luv, what's up? You're acting all twitchy. Is something wrong?"
"Not anymore than usual." She sighed deeply, preparing herself. "I...well, I feel like...sometimes I...oh, damnit, Spike, I'm scared." Now that it was all out, she felt considerably lighter, knowing that she had told someone, albeit that someone was Spike.
Spike didn't even blink, just moved closer to her. "And we're ashamed...why?"
Buffy blinked in confusion, staring up at him. "Well, 'cause I'm the Slayer...the leader, I'm not supposed to be afraid."
Spike snorted. "What bloody wanker told you that?" off her incredulous look, he added, "Being a leader doesn't mean to don't feel fear. It just means you don't let it rule you. Of course you're scared...hell, I'm scared. There's nothing wrong with that. An apocalypse is a scary thing to most, whether it's a reoccurring thing or not. It's the part of you that looks past the fear, the part of you that doesn't let it show in front of the girls, for their sake, that makes you their leader. It's that kind of strength that makes you the Slayer."
Buffy stared, wide-eyed at him, awed at the insight of the vampire before her. She stepped a bit closer. "How do you do that?"
His eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "Do what?"
"Make everything seem okay. Make it acceptable to be terrified, make it seem like the end of the world isn't quite as bad as it seems. I mean, you're supposed to be evil, but your all smart and insightful and all that stuff, and you make better speeches than me, god damnit!"
Spike smirked. "What can I say, luv? It's a gift."
"You have a whole lot a those." Buffy grumbled.
Spike inched closer to her. "What, jealous of m' speech makin'? Cor, Slayer, maybe if you didn't use yours so much, you wouldn't wear it out."
Buffy stepped forward, eyeing him indignantly. "Are you implying that I talk to much to the young, inexperienced potentials?"
Spike took a step forward as well. "That's exactly what I'm implying."
They were nose to nose now, Buffy's eyes flashing angrily, Spike's glinting with barely repressed laughter. Then Buffy lost a bit of her anger, and her eyes flickered down. "So, my speeches are bad?"
Spike's eyes twinkled. "No, luv, not bad...just maybe a bit overused."
She looked up at him then, a bemused smile curling her lips. "But not bad?"
The corner of Spike's lips twitched. "Not one bit."
"Really?"
"Really."
They'd slowly been leaning forward, now merely a hairsbreadth apart. Spike's hands came to rest lightly on her hips, while Buffy's found his biceps, clutching on to them. She could feel his warm breath on her lips, raising the hairs on the back of her neck in anticipation, waiting for the first second of contact. They pressed just a little bit closer...
A faint beep sounded from the doorway. The couple froze, then slowly turned their heads, greeting the sight of Andrew, holding on to his video camera and staring at the scene with a sort of fond gaze, which quickly turned to terror when he noticed the fierce stares of the two warriors directed at him.
Spike growled. "You die, TODAY!" With that, he promptly took off after the fleeing form of Andrew, Buffy following close behind.
*** *** *** *** *** ***
Willow sat on the couch next to Xander, lounging in the Summers living room, flipping through a magazine. She glanced at Xander, who was staring intently at a comic book in his lap. She crinkled her forehead curiously.
"Where did you get that, anyway?" she asked him inquisitively, glancing at the unfamiliar pictures.
Xander looked up, shaking his gaze to rid himself of his comic book induced daze. "Oh, Andrew has this great dealer, owns all the best comics, and some of the rarest editions ever, and he got me a few, and it's really cool, 'cause, y'see, in this one, he's gonna...yeah, and...he's a total freak. Comic books suck. Yeah." Xander covered, quickly tossing the comic book onto the coffee table.
Any further taunting was interrupted by three streaks of blond, some girlish squealing, and a very distinct string of British curse words shooting by. A small, silver box bounced onto the chair by the sofa, unnoticed by those involved in the pursuit. Willow and Xander exchanged a curious glance, before Willow stood to retrieve the box.
She lifted it off the chair, quickly discovering it to be Andrew's video camera. She took another quick look at Xander, then glanced at the place where the three blonds had just been, before shrugging her shoulders, and turning the camera on, moving to follow them.
"Why the hell not?"
Author's Note: Well, that's it. That idea's just been bugging me for weeks. Hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, well, that's nice, keep it to yourself, and if you just can't, throw darts at your computer. Just dodge them when they bounce off.