Title: Moving Out
Prompt: Fantasy and Supernatural: Ghost
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence, Character Death
Summary: Companion piece to 'Moving In'. Spike finds out what his ghostly roommate feels like.
Spike hummed to himself absently as he walked around his house, a beer in one hand and a bowl of chips in the other. He took a seat on the couch and sat the bowl on the coffee table, not even blinking as the couch sank slightly on his left and the faded form of a young blonde appeared.
"What, not going out tonight?" she asked with a wry smile, glancing at his beer with amusement.
"Nope. Its pourin' buckets out there. Traffic's gonna suck, even in this small of a town." He explained, leaning back and turning on the tv, "Sides, Passions is on."
"I just don't get what you see in that show." She said with a frown, "Its so unrealistic."
"Wha', an' livin' with a ghost isn't?" he countered. She opened her mouth to protest before she sighed and shrugged. Spike smirked.
"Tha's Spike, one, Buffy, zero."
Spike had moved into the house almost three months ago and almost immediately met the long-term resident, Buffy Summers. At first they tip toed around each other, Buffy never appearing without some sort of warning, and Spike always keeping an eye peeled. Finally they both gave in and just sat down to have a nice chat. It didn't really go the way either of them had planned it, but they really wouldn't have it any other way.
"I don't get this show." Buffy said an hour later as the credits started to roll, "That was the finale?"
"Yup." Spike agreed, turning off the television and glanced at the clock. He sighed, and stretched. "Well, guess its time for me to turn in."
"Remember, tomorrow I get to chose what we watch!" she called after him. He murmured a noncommittal 'yeah, yeah' before grumbling his way up stairs. Buffy smiled solemnly and watched him ascend, not moving from her spot on the couch.
Sometimes, afterlife was just cruel. She finds the man of her dreams, and there is one fundamental problem – she's dead, and he's alive. And she would never wish this life on him.
As Spike slept Buffy wandered around the house, looking at all the bits and pieces that made him, him. Her heart ached as time went on, but she knew there was nothing she could do except watch him be happy. Wasn't that better than watching him be miserable?
The clock struck at half past two, and Buffy froze as a menacing chill raced down her spine. She turned and looked towards the kitchen, the source of the tingles, and waited. For long minutes nothing happened, and she began to doubt her senses that, though dulled, had never failed her before. She sighed and went to head upstairs when a creak stalled her.
Wind picked up and dusted through the kitchen to rattle the unpaid bills on the table. Buffy turned back around and felt her body freeze at the sight that greeted her.
There was someone in the kitchen. She watched as the dark shadow walked silently through the room, looking around and packing a few things in his bag before he began to head into the living room. He didn't even notice her, and she knew that she had to move and warn Spike, prepare him.
She dashed upstairs and flew through the door, not even flinching at the sight of Spike's bare back and shapely body barely hidden by the thin sheets. She hesitated at the side of the bed and muttered a brief apology before she slammed her hand down on her back.
She fazed right though. Her eyes widened and panic bloomed in her chest.
"Oh, God, Spike!" she whispered loudly, desperately trying to wake him, "Please, please, please wake up!"
Nothing. Spike just kept on snoring. At this point she could hear the creaking of the stairs, and her panic flared out of control. She could see the lights flickering in the hallway from under the door, heard as doors slammed shut. That didn't seem to deter the burglar though, and he just kept on up the stairs.
"Spike!" Buffy screamed, not caring if the whole world heard her, "Wake up! Please, please, don't do this! Spike!"
He couldn't hear her. He was dead to the world.
The bedroom door opened and Buffy froze, looking up and gasping as she recognized the figure. It was one of Spikes newer acquaintances, Angel. He glanced around the room and quickly spotted Spike laying on the bed. He grinned, and Buffy cried out as he pulled out a gun from his holster.
"Oh god, please, no!" Buffy cried. She ran at the intruder but simply fazed through. She swatted at him, beat down on his chest, but no hit landed and he never even flinched. Why couldn't she fight him off! Why couldn't he see her!"
She was crying now, unable to tear her eyes away as the brunette approached the sleeping homeowner and cocked the gun, pressing it against his temple.
Her scream was blocked out by the sound of a gun. Blood splattered the wall and the bed, and Spike's body gave an awkward lurch. Angel didn't even flinch as blood splattered across his face, and instead re-holstered the gun and quickly left the room.
"Knew I shouldn't have trusted tha' wanker."
His voice shocked her and she turned around to see Spike standing there, his body transparent and an angry frown across his face. He was completely nude, but that didn't faze her – she'd seen him taking a shower before, and he wasn't shy about walking around in the nude. Instead, she threw herself into his arms, not even hesitating to wonder if they would connect.
Her arms wrapped around him and she pressed into his chest, pressing her face into his neck. It was odd, feeling him so firmly pressed against her, but at the same time it felt so right.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered. Spike just wrapped his arms around her, unable to pull his eyes away from his body that sat just feet away from them.
"Well, it looks like we're going to be room mates a bit longer than anticipated." He said. He finally looked away from his body and down at the sobbing blonde in his arms, "Tha' an' I don't have to bleach my hair any more."
Buffy just laughed brokenly and hugged him tighter.
