Where no Vamp has gone Before
Disclaimer: Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe belong to
Paramount/Viacom. I am using them in a not-for-profit way, and I
always put them back in the sandbox when I am done with them, and
I don't lose anything or break anything, either. No copyright infringement
is intended. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property
of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui
Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network,
and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe
upon any copyrights.
Author's Notes: This is for Ztar, for calling me on a mistype (I swear it
was a mistype, Ztar!) and for not stopping me. Okay? We know who's
responsible. It was Ztar, okay? Ztar! Moreover, I've never written a
Buffy fanfic or Star Trek one, so don't kill me…please?
Spike ran his hand down the side of his Star Fleet uniform, proud of
himself for having obtained the rank of Lieutenant 'And I only had to
kill a couple of people to get away with it too.' He thought self-satisfied.
"Lieutenant Summers?" He heard his assumed name called down the
corridor, getting a small jolt of pleasure at the use of the long dead
Slayer's name. He'd figured that him using it had Slutty the Vampire
Slayer rolling over in her grave…not that there was anything left in her
grave, 'cept for dust now. Been too long. Turning and snapping off a
salute, a habit he'd gained from his times watching old army movies on
VHS before Holograms came in.
"Commander Spock" He greeted the Vulcan.
"Greetings, Lieutenant. Congradulations are due."
"Thank you, sir."
"Off to celebrate with a drink?" Spock questioned almost…wistfully?
As he had been about to, a double of O+ that for some reason the food
sythesiser had yet to have a problem with, guarenteeing Spike's
vampiric anonymity, Spike hesitated. This might be his moment. He'd
been fanta-considering, the possibilities of a liason with the, well, damn
it all, attractive first officer. It had been a bit too long for him without a
partner, and he had a feeling it had been a while for Spock too. He
knew that Spock was loved on board ship, of course. He couldn't have
been on board for six months without noticing, but it seemed to always
be in that completely non-sexual intense way only young pseudo-
intellectual girls can.
Not that, as he understood it, Spock needed to have sex, he was
rumoured not to even want to have sex for seven years. Well, posh
and nonsense. No man, no matter what species or race wanted to go
for seven years without sex. No way. And if this was his opportunity,
well, he could hardly throw it away, now could he?
"Hadn't been planning on it, sir, but if you'd like to join me…" he invited,
almost hoping to be turned down, now that he'd asked. 'What kinda
Vamp am I anyway?' he wondered to himself, appalled at his lack of
courage. He was over four centuries old! Idly he wondered what kind
of vampire Spock would make, grimacing inwardly at the imagined taste
of green blood.
"Do you play chess, Lieutenant?" Jolted out of his reverie by the change
of subject, Spike straightened from the positioned he'd taken lounging
against the wall, and answered, voice accented in his surprise.
"Yes, sir, I do. Haven't for a while though."
Hadn't since that all night Chess game with old Rupert, what, over
three centuries ago? Oh well. He missed the shrewd glance directed
at him by Spock as he registered both the accent and the place of
origin that it hailed from, contrasting with the place of birth given by
this young, Spock licked his lips, officer.
"Well, then, may I challenge you to a game then, Lieutenant?" Spock
asked, already shepherding the vampire toward Spock's rooms with
a rare touch, on his elbow.
Noticing the touch and thinking that maybe his fanta- considerations,
damnit! weren't as impossible as he'd thought.
Talking amiably along the way, once the door to his quarters were
closed Spock was a different man. Advancing on Spike who
entertained the delighted thought that this was going to be easier than
he thought, Spock soon cornered the younger appearing man. "Well,
Summers. You have a lot of explaining to do."
'Or maybe not.' Spike thought, his hopes sinking to his stomach.
"What do you mean, sir?" He questioned, eyes wide as possible for
the best innocent look. Spock showed no signs of relenting. 'damn,
doesn't work on Vulcans.' He mentally catalogued.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Summers. You're eating the
ship's transfusion supply! Don't you know that there's an artificial
supply that works just as well? He asked, pulling a glass out of the
food synthesiser filled with red liquid. "you poor, dear, sick, perverted,
twisted vamp" Spock tsked.
"I'm a poor, dear, sick perverted, twisted vamp?" Spike questioned,
not willing to let the game be up. He liked Star Fleet!
"Of course, " Spock said turning back to the Food synthesiser,
removing another glass. He turned around and vamped out.
"Takes one to know one."
"Wha- Spock?" He shook his head, clearing it. "What the fuck is
this, waking a man up while he's drowsing, Bloody uncivil if you ask
me."
"Well, one, I didn't ask you" Xander replied turning off the TV, "and
two, you were yelling out Spock, and your Vulcan fantasy are none
of my business and Please, oh please, keep it that way. No more Star
Trek Marathons for you, young man."
Disclaimer: Star Trek and the Star Trek Universe belong to
Paramount/Viacom. I am using them in a not-for-profit way, and I
always put them back in the sandbox when I am done with them, and
I don't lose anything or break anything, either. No copyright infringement
is intended. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters are the property
of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Productions, Kuzui
Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television, the WB Television Network,
and whoever else may have a hold on them. I do not mean to infringe
upon any copyrights.
Author's Notes: This is for Ztar, for calling me on a mistype (I swear it
was a mistype, Ztar!) and for not stopping me. Okay? We know who's
responsible. It was Ztar, okay? Ztar! Moreover, I've never written a
Buffy fanfic or Star Trek one, so don't kill me…please?
Spike ran his hand down the side of his Star Fleet uniform, proud of
himself for having obtained the rank of Lieutenant 'And I only had to
kill a couple of people to get away with it too.' He thought self-satisfied.
"Lieutenant Summers?" He heard his assumed name called down the
corridor, getting a small jolt of pleasure at the use of the long dead
Slayer's name. He'd figured that him using it had Slutty the Vampire
Slayer rolling over in her grave…not that there was anything left in her
grave, 'cept for dust now. Been too long. Turning and snapping off a
salute, a habit he'd gained from his times watching old army movies on
VHS before Holograms came in.
"Commander Spock" He greeted the Vulcan.
"Greetings, Lieutenant. Congradulations are due."
"Thank you, sir."
"Off to celebrate with a drink?" Spock questioned almost…wistfully?
As he had been about to, a double of O+ that for some reason the food
sythesiser had yet to have a problem with, guarenteeing Spike's
vampiric anonymity, Spike hesitated. This might be his moment. He'd
been fanta-considering, the possibilities of a liason with the, well, damn
it all, attractive first officer. It had been a bit too long for him without a
partner, and he had a feeling it had been a while for Spock too. He
knew that Spock was loved on board ship, of course. He couldn't have
been on board for six months without noticing, but it seemed to always
be in that completely non-sexual intense way only young pseudo-
intellectual girls can.
Not that, as he understood it, Spock needed to have sex, he was
rumoured not to even want to have sex for seven years. Well, posh
and nonsense. No man, no matter what species or race wanted to go
for seven years without sex. No way. And if this was his opportunity,
well, he could hardly throw it away, now could he?
"Hadn't been planning on it, sir, but if you'd like to join me…" he invited,
almost hoping to be turned down, now that he'd asked. 'What kinda
Vamp am I anyway?' he wondered to himself, appalled at his lack of
courage. He was over four centuries old! Idly he wondered what kind
of vampire Spock would make, grimacing inwardly at the imagined taste
of green blood.
"Do you play chess, Lieutenant?" Jolted out of his reverie by the change
of subject, Spike straightened from the positioned he'd taken lounging
against the wall, and answered, voice accented in his surprise.
"Yes, sir, I do. Haven't for a while though."
Hadn't since that all night Chess game with old Rupert, what, over
three centuries ago? Oh well. He missed the shrewd glance directed
at him by Spock as he registered both the accent and the place of
origin that it hailed from, contrasting with the place of birth given by
this young, Spock licked his lips, officer.
"Well, then, may I challenge you to a game then, Lieutenant?" Spock
asked, already shepherding the vampire toward Spock's rooms with
a rare touch, on his elbow.
Noticing the touch and thinking that maybe his fanta- considerations,
damnit! weren't as impossible as he'd thought.
Talking amiably along the way, once the door to his quarters were
closed Spock was a different man. Advancing on Spike who
entertained the delighted thought that this was going to be easier than
he thought, Spock soon cornered the younger appearing man. "Well,
Summers. You have a lot of explaining to do."
'Or maybe not.' Spike thought, his hopes sinking to his stomach.
"What do you mean, sir?" He questioned, eyes wide as possible for
the best innocent look. Spock showed no signs of relenting. 'damn,
doesn't work on Vulcans.' He mentally catalogued.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Summers. You're eating the
ship's transfusion supply! Don't you know that there's an artificial
supply that works just as well? He asked, pulling a glass out of the
food synthesiser filled with red liquid. "you poor, dear, sick, perverted,
twisted vamp" Spock tsked.
"I'm a poor, dear, sick perverted, twisted vamp?" Spike questioned,
not willing to let the game be up. He liked Star Fleet!
"Of course, " Spock said turning back to the Food synthesiser,
removing another glass. He turned around and vamped out.
"Takes one to know one."
"Wha- Spock?" He shook his head, clearing it. "What the fuck is
this, waking a man up while he's drowsing, Bloody uncivil if you ask
me."
"Well, one, I didn't ask you" Xander replied turning off the TV, "and
two, you were yelling out Spock, and your Vulcan fantasy are none
of my business and Please, oh please, keep it that way. No more Star
Trek Marathons for you, young man."