Disclaimer: these characters are not mine, and except for myself, are all owned by everyone favorite guy Joss Whedon.
Reviews: Pretty please, I'll give you a coooookie? ^_^
Side note: I'm not quite sure where this story takes place....before Buffy dies, for the second time, during a lull in Glory action.
Chapter Theme score: Blitzkrieg Bop - The Ramones
_______________
After a hundred or so tired cliche's have run through my confused and pierced head, I manage to utter out a few words.
Or what I think are words, what was meant to be 'What are you still doing here?' came out 'Wha...here do you?'
Oh yea, slick one there Gina, and your supposed to be a slayer, we the jury think not. Someone just slipped some acid in your cheerios girl and your on a bad trip.
Spike, there's really no point in calling him James now, the throbbing pain in my head from being knocked out so many times tells me that, well Spike sets down his "drink" and sits down, a cocky smirk playing across his pale features, what else would one expect.
'Ye might want ta button yer shirt luv...'
My mouth falls open as I look down to my black and white pinstriped blouse, it must have come unbuttoned while I slept. As usual, I don't think before I speak, and while hastily buttoning my shirt, this pops out of my mouth.
'What the fuck are you doing looking..come mierda pendejo..'
I'm still not sure if he understood my Spanish curses. My face flushed a horrible shade of red, we're talking the kind of red old ladies get when their sunburnt, when he said this.
'I can't right help it when yer tits poppin out'
Perfect, and I usually liked to wait until the second date before I show a guy my chest, well nothing else seemed to be going normal, why should that.
I was silent for a long while, eyes narrowed, chewing on my tongue, and staring out the bedrooms window, wondering if it would kill me to jump, and noticing just how nice a Sunnydale sunset is.
A high pitched, slightly perky, way too happy voice, invades my thoughts and snaps me out of my daydream.
'Hi guys'
Turning my head to the door, I see Dawn, and groan, sliding under the beds covers, and praying I'm lying in a ditch somewhere unconscious, 'cause at least that would explain this.
My hand trails to the silver pentacle pendant dangling form a thin chain hanging from my neck, I've had for as long as I can remember. My sister gave it to me when I was born, supposedly, but I doubted that now. None the less, it was a comfort in my new, abnormal surroundings.
Damn it, I missed my cats. Oh..what was this, they were talking about me, Dawn's voice peeked my interest.
'So, she's a slayer, so cool! I bet Buffy is going to have kittens! Oh, or maybe a puppy, I've always wanted one'
Thats where Spike cut her off.
'We aren't going to tell your sister lil bit, see, when Buffy gets back from L.A., she's gonna be outta here, and staying with me'
This is where I let everyone know I'm still alive by letting out a loud groan of dissaproval.
I hear Spike snort.
'It won't be a pleasure living with you either cupcake'
I'm assuming he's calling me cupcake because of my pink hair, well, as long as he didn't think I was a delectable treat to be bitten in to, for the mean time it was ok.
Letting myself drift off to sleep, I awaken upon hearing the door to my room shut.
This seemed like my chance to get away, jumping out of bed, I start looking fervently for my shoes.
After five minutes, I realize they're on my feet.
And I was supposed to be a slayer, how about no.
Or better yet bNO/b
Now, how to get out, oh, Spikes wallet was resting on the chair he had been sitting on before leaving.
Well, cupcake or not, I was taking the treat, sugar and spice, everything nice.
Not my style, and hey, Spike was hot, but I didn't fancy spending time in a crypt with a vampire jonsin for another slayer.
Gah, and with my luck, I would end up with a watches like Wesley, I shuddered just thinking about it. Running a hand through my hair, and running my finger over my teeth like a toothbrush, I walk to the door testing the doorknob, i should have known, it was locked.
In my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of moonlight, hmm, full moon. Wait a minute, window, escape, third floor, so, slayer.
Well, maybe slayer, I didn't know what to believe.
Opening the window, taking c are not to make it creak, i look down. Two floors, oh baby. I'm gonna die.
Did I mention I'm terrified of Heights, okay Gina.
Jump...just jump.
One...two..
But before I can get to three, a pair of large hands, sends me toppling forward.
Shutting my eyes tightly, and waiting for the impact I'm sure will kill me, i start thinking this just might be taking a little too long.
Opening my eyes, I realize I've landed on my feet, and Spike is standing in the window laughing, then he does what I did only moments before and jumps down.
He lands in front of me, hands on his hips, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
'Welcome to boot camp slayer, I'm your Watcher'
Wasn't there a rule against that, I'm angry, and do the only thing that come's to mind. I take his cigarette and stomp it beneath the heel of my combat boots.
Never mess with an angry, confused punk girl. Ever. Shouldn't the Billy Idol wanna be know that?
Reviews: Pretty please, I'll give you a coooookie? ^_^
Side note: I'm not quite sure where this story takes place....before Buffy dies, for the second time, during a lull in Glory action.
Chapter Theme score: Blitzkrieg Bop - The Ramones
_______________
After a hundred or so tired cliche's have run through my confused and pierced head, I manage to utter out a few words.
Or what I think are words, what was meant to be 'What are you still doing here?' came out 'Wha...here do you?'
Oh yea, slick one there Gina, and your supposed to be a slayer, we the jury think not. Someone just slipped some acid in your cheerios girl and your on a bad trip.
Spike, there's really no point in calling him James now, the throbbing pain in my head from being knocked out so many times tells me that, well Spike sets down his "drink" and sits down, a cocky smirk playing across his pale features, what else would one expect.
'Ye might want ta button yer shirt luv...'
My mouth falls open as I look down to my black and white pinstriped blouse, it must have come unbuttoned while I slept. As usual, I don't think before I speak, and while hastily buttoning my shirt, this pops out of my mouth.
'What the fuck are you doing looking..come mierda pendejo..'
I'm still not sure if he understood my Spanish curses. My face flushed a horrible shade of red, we're talking the kind of red old ladies get when their sunburnt, when he said this.
'I can't right help it when yer tits poppin out'
Perfect, and I usually liked to wait until the second date before I show a guy my chest, well nothing else seemed to be going normal, why should that.
I was silent for a long while, eyes narrowed, chewing on my tongue, and staring out the bedrooms window, wondering if it would kill me to jump, and noticing just how nice a Sunnydale sunset is.
A high pitched, slightly perky, way too happy voice, invades my thoughts and snaps me out of my daydream.
'Hi guys'
Turning my head to the door, I see Dawn, and groan, sliding under the beds covers, and praying I'm lying in a ditch somewhere unconscious, 'cause at least that would explain this.
My hand trails to the silver pentacle pendant dangling form a thin chain hanging from my neck, I've had for as long as I can remember. My sister gave it to me when I was born, supposedly, but I doubted that now. None the less, it was a comfort in my new, abnormal surroundings.
Damn it, I missed my cats. Oh..what was this, they were talking about me, Dawn's voice peeked my interest.
'So, she's a slayer, so cool! I bet Buffy is going to have kittens! Oh, or maybe a puppy, I've always wanted one'
Thats where Spike cut her off.
'We aren't going to tell your sister lil bit, see, when Buffy gets back from L.A., she's gonna be outta here, and staying with me'
This is where I let everyone know I'm still alive by letting out a loud groan of dissaproval.
I hear Spike snort.
'It won't be a pleasure living with you either cupcake'
I'm assuming he's calling me cupcake because of my pink hair, well, as long as he didn't think I was a delectable treat to be bitten in to, for the mean time it was ok.
Letting myself drift off to sleep, I awaken upon hearing the door to my room shut.
This seemed like my chance to get away, jumping out of bed, I start looking fervently for my shoes.
After five minutes, I realize they're on my feet.
And I was supposed to be a slayer, how about no.
Or better yet bNO/b
Now, how to get out, oh, Spikes wallet was resting on the chair he had been sitting on before leaving.
Well, cupcake or not, I was taking the treat, sugar and spice, everything nice.
Not my style, and hey, Spike was hot, but I didn't fancy spending time in a crypt with a vampire jonsin for another slayer.
Gah, and with my luck, I would end up with a watches like Wesley, I shuddered just thinking about it. Running a hand through my hair, and running my finger over my teeth like a toothbrush, I walk to the door testing the doorknob, i should have known, it was locked.
In my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of moonlight, hmm, full moon. Wait a minute, window, escape, third floor, so, slayer.
Well, maybe slayer, I didn't know what to believe.
Opening the window, taking c are not to make it creak, i look down. Two floors, oh baby. I'm gonna die.
Did I mention I'm terrified of Heights, okay Gina.
Jump...just jump.
One...two..
But before I can get to three, a pair of large hands, sends me toppling forward.
Shutting my eyes tightly, and waiting for the impact I'm sure will kill me, i start thinking this just might be taking a little too long.
Opening my eyes, I realize I've landed on my feet, and Spike is standing in the window laughing, then he does what I did only moments before and jumps down.
He lands in front of me, hands on his hips, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
'Welcome to boot camp slayer, I'm your Watcher'
Wasn't there a rule against that, I'm angry, and do the only thing that come's to mind. I take his cigarette and stomp it beneath the heel of my combat boots.
Never mess with an angry, confused punk girl. Ever. Shouldn't the Billy Idol wanna be know that?