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Buffy was patrolling in the graveyards one night when a huge demon had jumped out from the shadows and attacked. Oh, it was ugly. She had been ready to stake it when she had slipped in the mud and it had lunged at her, knocking the stake out of her hands. She stared at the seven foot tall monster, with growing shock written all over her face. "You lost Mr. Pointy.."she said with surprise, sorrow, and mounting anger. She threw a high kick at his face, knocking him back. She grabbed her trusty knife from the strap around her knee and stabbed him. She didn't know how she could kill this thing besides decapitation. She hadn't brought major weapons with her, expecting only a few fledglings on this patrol. A sword suddenly came up from behind and cleanly lopped the monster's head off. As the demon fell, she saw...who else could it be but Spike? Buffy sighed. She was sweaty, bloody, and dirty from the mud, and..her shirt had a large rip down the front that meandered to the left and exposed a good deal of skin. She saw Spike smirk. Damn. Of all the nights not to wear a jacket. Spike looked at her, and his face softened. "Here, love," he said in a soft tone, and threw his jacket at her. She caught it and slipped it on. When his back was turned, surveying for other foes, she couldn't help but inhale the aroma that was uniquely Spike. He looked back at her, and remarked in that old tone, "Best not let that Harris bloke see you with that on, Slayer. My jacket, your shirt ripped to shreds. He might get all violent on me. Don't want to have to kill him, or should I say you don't want me to have to kill him?" He grinned at her, expecting her to sigh or grin back. She glared at him and muttered belligerently, "Spike, your endless attitude is starting to annoy the crap out of me." She winced at her own cruel tone as his head snapped around. She looked at him, wondering why she always beat the crap out of him, physically, and perhaps even worse, verbally. *What's wrong with me?* she wondered. *Why do I have to hurt him? Is it because I care about him?? What am I, six?????* Maybe she abused him during her bad moments.because he was always there during her bad moments. Xander, Willow..to them she was the Slayer, the strong one. She had to be brave for them, and for Dawn. Spike was always there, and she could be herself. She could let off steam and her frustrations. And, the sex was good. That had a way of lessening the steam production. She could hit Spike, yell at him, or sink into a moody silence, and he wouldn't think an inch less of her. She couldn't let hi know she loved him. If he knew she did, he would expect more of her like they all did. She... She realized he was staring at her, and she was staring into space. She heard Xander crashing through the foliage, disturbing all sorts of demonic badness. He came upon them, and stopped short when he saw Buffy with Spike's jacket, and her shirt torn. His face contorted with rage, and he whirled to face Spike. Buffy quickly said, "No, Xander. Nothing happened. A demon ripped my shirt." Still tensed, Xander asked, "What demon??" and glared at Spike. She shot a glare at him. He shrugged and said, "Let's get out of here." He turned and started to leave. Buffy turned, then stopped and turned back. "Spike.thanks for.being there." He rolled his eyes, and was about to brush the appreciation off. She interrupted, "Being there for me..again..." He looked up, but she was already walking away from him. He whistled to get her attention, and threw something at her. She caught it, and looked down at it briefly. When she looked back up, he was gone. Her puzzled voice echoed through the graveyard. "Mr. Pointy???"
Buffy was patrolling in the graveyards one night when a huge demon had jumped out from the shadows and attacked. Oh, it was ugly. She had been ready to stake it when she had slipped in the mud and it had lunged at her, knocking the stake out of her hands. She stared at the seven foot tall monster, with growing shock written all over her face. "You lost Mr. Pointy.."she said with surprise, sorrow, and mounting anger. She threw a high kick at his face, knocking him back. She grabbed her trusty knife from the strap around her knee and stabbed him. She didn't know how she could kill this thing besides decapitation. She hadn't brought major weapons with her, expecting only a few fledglings on this patrol. A sword suddenly came up from behind and cleanly lopped the monster's head off. As the demon fell, she saw...who else could it be but Spike? Buffy sighed. She was sweaty, bloody, and dirty from the mud, and..her shirt had a large rip down the front that meandered to the left and exposed a good deal of skin. She saw Spike smirk. Damn. Of all the nights not to wear a jacket. Spike looked at her, and his face softened. "Here, love," he said in a soft tone, and threw his jacket at her. She caught it and slipped it on. When his back was turned, surveying for other foes, she couldn't help but inhale the aroma that was uniquely Spike. He looked back at her, and remarked in that old tone, "Best not let that Harris bloke see you with that on, Slayer. My jacket, your shirt ripped to shreds. He might get all violent on me. Don't want to have to kill him, or should I say you don't want me to have to kill him?" He grinned at her, expecting her to sigh or grin back. She glared at him and muttered belligerently, "Spike, your endless attitude is starting to annoy the crap out of me." She winced at her own cruel tone as his head snapped around. She looked at him, wondering why she always beat the crap out of him, physically, and perhaps even worse, verbally. *What's wrong with me?* she wondered. *Why do I have to hurt him? Is it because I care about him?? What am I, six?????* Maybe she abused him during her bad moments.because he was always there during her bad moments. Xander, Willow..to them she was the Slayer, the strong one. She had to be brave for them, and for Dawn. Spike was always there, and she could be herself. She could let off steam and her frustrations. And, the sex was good. That had a way of lessening the steam production. She could hit Spike, yell at him, or sink into a moody silence, and he wouldn't think an inch less of her. She couldn't let hi know she loved him. If he knew she did, he would expect more of her like they all did. She... She realized he was staring at her, and she was staring into space. She heard Xander crashing through the foliage, disturbing all sorts of demonic badness. He came upon them, and stopped short when he saw Buffy with Spike's jacket, and her shirt torn. His face contorted with rage, and he whirled to face Spike. Buffy quickly said, "No, Xander. Nothing happened. A demon ripped my shirt." Still tensed, Xander asked, "What demon??" and glared at Spike. She shot a glare at him. He shrugged and said, "Let's get out of here." He turned and started to leave. Buffy turned, then stopped and turned back. "Spike.thanks for.being there." He rolled his eyes, and was about to brush the appreciation off. She interrupted, "Being there for me..again..." He looked up, but she was already walking away from him. He whistled to get her attention, and threw something at her. She caught it, and looked down at it briefly. When she looked back up, he was gone. Her puzzled voice echoed through the graveyard. "Mr. Pointy???"