Wildecate@hotmail.com
Rating: R- for language
Disclaimer: Not mine, not nothing, not no how
Summary: Follow up to "And Another Thing"
Author's Note: Part 3 of Spike ranting.
She's good but one of the things she never bothered to do was develop her Slayer senses properly. Hannah, a Slayer who came close to dusting my arse could tell when I was 100 yards away. Buffy can't do that. But when you can kick arse the way she can I suppose there's no need. Which is just as well because at the moment I'm doing something else guarateed to get my arse dusted. She's about 200 yards ahead of me, swinging those hips down Sunnydale's main street. I reckon she's heading to the Bronze, the only place to party in this crappy little town. Don't ask me why I stay in this crappy little town if it's so crappy. The answer is walking into the Bronze.
It's crowded in here tonight, the reek of human blood is almost too much to bear and as a rule I don't torture myself like this. I'm not Angel. I get a drink, Jack Daniels straight up, and mooch into a corner. She might not be able to sense me but I can sense her, feel her. She's perched on a high chair, sipping coke because she's a good girl and she never drinks. How dull. She's talking to the witch, Willow's looking good tonight, wearing a top that I know she didn't choose, with her hair cut short and make up. Who has she made an effort for? My curiousity diverts my train of thought and is almost enough to make me forget the stench of blood.
I know it isn't Xander, at least it better not be. Red should know better by now that there's nothing there but trouble. The new clothes suit her, tight fitting top showing a pretty damn good figure and there's definitely something different about her.
Who's this? Tall slender blonde, pretty pouty lips and whoa - would you look at that? I'm guessing little Red is batting for a different team now. I recognise her now, Tara. How did I miss that?
It's not just Willow's eyes that have lit up, Slayer's come over all nervous, it's coming off her in waves, I can smell it. She's all het up and I still can't see about who. She's looking over at some guy and gives him one of her shy smiles. Those shy "shag me" smiles that she never gives me. He takes her by the hand and leads her on to the dance floor. I can only take so much of this.
I've given up. I can't watch her dancing with this Sap anymore. My third JD is finished and I decide that I better make like a good little Spike and kill some vampires. I wander off down the street when I feel that strange ripple down the back of my neck. That means she's around. Strange, I thought she'd be dancing all night. That's what "late patrol" means. It means after The Bronze has closed, she'll swing by my place and then we kick some vampire ass, as she says. I duck into an alleyway and to my surprise she's walking past, with him. He's walking her back to her Mum's. A rather nasty idea occurs to me and taking a short cut and moving at full vampire speed means I can be there at least five minutes before she turns up with Sappy.
I'm sitting on the steps to her house when they turn up and I wish I could take a photograph of her face.
"Buffy, honey I was worried" I say and watch the expressions flit over her face, horror, bemusement and anger all fight for precedence but when the boy looks at her, she plasters a smile over her face.
"Why?" she says through gritted teeth - not at all pleased with this, not sure where it's going but prepared to play along. She doesn't want this boy involved in her little "hobby" and wants to be normal.
"You said you'd be home at 11pm. As your older brother I feel it's my duty to worry about you. Any longer and I would have come looking." I turn my gaze on Sap and give him a dreadful smile "You must be...."
"Josh" he answers in a small voice "I'll see you round Buffy".
With me standing over them, he doesn't dare give her the full on goodnight kiss he had obviously planned but pecks her on the cheek. With a nervous smile at me, he disappears off down the street leaving me with a very pissed off Slayer.
She turns and makes sure he is out of sight before giving me the kind of punch that makes me see stars. I don't bother to fight back. I can do without a migraine considering how much I'm going to ache tomorrow from this. She's kicking three kinds of hell out of me on her front porch and I'm suddenly laughing. Infuriated she stops and glares at me.
Bloody hell but she's beautiful, even from my position on the ground. She stands over me, hands on hips, breathing hard although I'm not sure why - beating me up doesn't take any kind of energy, especially when I can't fight back.
"Finished?" I ask as I roll on to my side on the grass. She gives me a final kick in my stomach that makes me roll up with pain. God I love this woman!
"I hate you" she says "Why do you do this to me?"
"Someone has to torture you, pet. And everyone needs a hobby."
The slam of the front door tells me that she's flounced off inside her house and I'm alone on the front lawn. I've been here before through and I sit up carefully, avoiding my left hand which she seems to have broken. Out of habit, although you'd think after a century I would have gotten out of the habit, I take a deep breath and start counting quietly.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ...."
The front door opens behind me and then closes. I stand up and brush myself off and then turn round. She's taken off the silly boots and has her sensible trainers on. She's put her hair up and has her bag over her shoulder. That's a bonus. She usually takes at least 30 seconds.
Patrol time it is then.
Rating: R- for language
Disclaimer: Not mine, not nothing, not no how
Summary: Follow up to "And Another Thing"
Author's Note: Part 3 of Spike ranting.
She's good but one of the things she never bothered to do was develop her Slayer senses properly. Hannah, a Slayer who came close to dusting my arse could tell when I was 100 yards away. Buffy can't do that. But when you can kick arse the way she can I suppose there's no need. Which is just as well because at the moment I'm doing something else guarateed to get my arse dusted. She's about 200 yards ahead of me, swinging those hips down Sunnydale's main street. I reckon she's heading to the Bronze, the only place to party in this crappy little town. Don't ask me why I stay in this crappy little town if it's so crappy. The answer is walking into the Bronze.
It's crowded in here tonight, the reek of human blood is almost too much to bear and as a rule I don't torture myself like this. I'm not Angel. I get a drink, Jack Daniels straight up, and mooch into a corner. She might not be able to sense me but I can sense her, feel her. She's perched on a high chair, sipping coke because she's a good girl and she never drinks. How dull. She's talking to the witch, Willow's looking good tonight, wearing a top that I know she didn't choose, with her hair cut short and make up. Who has she made an effort for? My curiousity diverts my train of thought and is almost enough to make me forget the stench of blood.
I know it isn't Xander, at least it better not be. Red should know better by now that there's nothing there but trouble. The new clothes suit her, tight fitting top showing a pretty damn good figure and there's definitely something different about her.
Who's this? Tall slender blonde, pretty pouty lips and whoa - would you look at that? I'm guessing little Red is batting for a different team now. I recognise her now, Tara. How did I miss that?
It's not just Willow's eyes that have lit up, Slayer's come over all nervous, it's coming off her in waves, I can smell it. She's all het up and I still can't see about who. She's looking over at some guy and gives him one of her shy smiles. Those shy "shag me" smiles that she never gives me. He takes her by the hand and leads her on to the dance floor. I can only take so much of this.
I've given up. I can't watch her dancing with this Sap anymore. My third JD is finished and I decide that I better make like a good little Spike and kill some vampires. I wander off down the street when I feel that strange ripple down the back of my neck. That means she's around. Strange, I thought she'd be dancing all night. That's what "late patrol" means. It means after The Bronze has closed, she'll swing by my place and then we kick some vampire ass, as she says. I duck into an alleyway and to my surprise she's walking past, with him. He's walking her back to her Mum's. A rather nasty idea occurs to me and taking a short cut and moving at full vampire speed means I can be there at least five minutes before she turns up with Sappy.
I'm sitting on the steps to her house when they turn up and I wish I could take a photograph of her face.
"Buffy, honey I was worried" I say and watch the expressions flit over her face, horror, bemusement and anger all fight for precedence but when the boy looks at her, she plasters a smile over her face.
"Why?" she says through gritted teeth - not at all pleased with this, not sure where it's going but prepared to play along. She doesn't want this boy involved in her little "hobby" and wants to be normal.
"You said you'd be home at 11pm. As your older brother I feel it's my duty to worry about you. Any longer and I would have come looking." I turn my gaze on Sap and give him a dreadful smile "You must be...."
"Josh" he answers in a small voice "I'll see you round Buffy".
With me standing over them, he doesn't dare give her the full on goodnight kiss he had obviously planned but pecks her on the cheek. With a nervous smile at me, he disappears off down the street leaving me with a very pissed off Slayer.
She turns and makes sure he is out of sight before giving me the kind of punch that makes me see stars. I don't bother to fight back. I can do without a migraine considering how much I'm going to ache tomorrow from this. She's kicking three kinds of hell out of me on her front porch and I'm suddenly laughing. Infuriated she stops and glares at me.
Bloody hell but she's beautiful, even from my position on the ground. She stands over me, hands on hips, breathing hard although I'm not sure why - beating me up doesn't take any kind of energy, especially when I can't fight back.
"Finished?" I ask as I roll on to my side on the grass. She gives me a final kick in my stomach that makes me roll up with pain. God I love this woman!
"I hate you" she says "Why do you do this to me?"
"Someone has to torture you, pet. And everyone needs a hobby."
The slam of the front door tells me that she's flounced off inside her house and I'm alone on the front lawn. I've been here before through and I sit up carefully, avoiding my left hand which she seems to have broken. Out of habit, although you'd think after a century I would have gotten out of the habit, I take a deep breath and start counting quietly.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 ...."
The front door opens behind me and then closes. I stand up and brush myself off and then turn round. She's taken off the silly boots and has her sensible trainers on. She's put her hair up and has her bag over her shoulder. That's a bonus. She usually takes at least 30 seconds.
Patrol time it is then.