Following
By: Spiffy Da WonderSheep
Spoilers: up to S6
Author's Note: What the HELL is wrong with me? I'm not only writing a fic about the not-on-screen meeting of B/A, I'm writing it angsty AND with Spike! Gah! I must really be depressed. Okay, here it comes, don't say I didn't warn you...
Of course he followed her. All of her friends said things like, "If you want us to go, we will..." but there was no way they were getting within a hundred feet of this firebomb. He didn't make any vague offers, but followed her anyway. The others didn't have a personal stake in this.
The wind whipped about him as he drove behind the bus, the rolled-down window bringing the familiar night smells of the Greater Los Angeles area. The bus was driving slow, for once following the speed limits imposed by federal law. The Fates were conspiring to make this torture last a thousand years. It pulled off the freeway, and he knew it was her destination. He could see the ponce's car in the parking lot of the strip mall.
He took the second entrance, and parked his car where he could see the whole thing. He had a momentary vision as she stepped down from the bus that she'd reach out and stake him, but of course that didn't happen. It did feel like he'd had something large and pointy and blunt shoved through his heart, however, when started stroking the blonde hair his face was already buried in. As if to add insult to injury.
About a million years later (according to his internal clock), they separated just enough to be able to enter the mall without tripping and falling all over each other. Maybe that would be a good thing, he mused as he lit a cigarette. He'd ever so accidentally have that 'one moment of happiness' and be out of the way. But it wouldn't work. Even if he was the one she turned to in her grief, which was not bleedin' likely, the specter would always be there.
"So," he asked himself out loud. "Where to now?" The 'Dale didn't need him any longer. She was able to take care of Lil' Bit herself now. The rest of the Gang wouldn't miss him. Niblet might, though, so he'd better send her a postcard and a prezzie every so often. An Aztec ceremonial dagger or a Glarhkwage battle axe. Things every teenage girl needs.
Maybe he'd go and see if he could track down Dru again. Apologize for the whole, "I'm going to stake my ex-lover to prove my love for a new bird" incident, see what sort of fun she'd set up around herself.
Or go off and wander around China again, see what the Communists had done to the country. Maybe finally get around to learning the Cantonese words that weren't insults. He idly wondered if Buffy liked Chinese food.
He shook himself, and tried to derail that train of thought before it even got started. Brazil was a nice country, maybe he'd go there. Or hit Japan, Tokyo's demon nightlife was legendary. Or he could stay in Sunnydale...
But there was nothing there for him, no real reason for him to stay around. Nancy-boy had proven that. Only time she'd ever gone running after him was when she'd thought he was about to spill the beans on the Lil' Bit. But all it took was one little request from the pouf (and he'd kill to know how King Poncy the First had gotten that puppy-dog look to work over the phone), and she'd jumped on the next inter-county bus. He knew bloodthirsty demons who weren't that brave. But, to quote one of the Gang, 'love makes you do the wacky.'
Yeah, the wacky things, like sitting in a parking lot, freezing your arse off, stalking the Slayer. As in Vampire Slayer. As in shortly-you're-going-to-fit-in-an-ashtray--if-she-catches-you Slayer. But would that really be a bad thing? A pile of dust and a piece of metal, and he'd not have to worry about things like finding blood and not hitting Xander and the love of his life running off with that bastard. Yeah, he'd said the 'L' word. Say it again: Love. And yet again: Love. And once more: Love! Again, with feeling! LOVE!
And the little old woman getting into the car next to him gives him a frightened look and clutches her pepper spray tighter. Like that would do anything major to him. Like he could do anything to her. Would he do anything to her if he wasn't neutered? Hmmm, that's a scary train of thought. He wasn't particularly hungry, but fresh blood would taste nice. And Buffy wouldn't---
Buffy would kick his ass, is what she'd do. And then all problems would be over in the aforementioned puff of dust. Minus the chunk of metal this time, because he'd no longer be neutered. It would be nice to leave it all behind, find out what's on the other side of this plane of existence. If just to say he'd been there.
Movement over by the big pouf's car caught his eye. It was just the two of them, emerging from wherever they had pranced off to. They were standing apart, and talking. She turned and ran at Slayer-speed for the bus. Not even a goodbye peck. Spike started up the engine of his car. Well, guess he isn't irresistible. Spike passed the bus and headed back to the 'Dale at high speed, with a Sex Pistols song in his heart. It doesn't matter which one, really. There was a feeling that resembled hope creating a warm spot in the place he used to call his 'heart', before it stopped beating.
Then, Spike cursed and swerved, almost causing an accident as he tried to put out the small fire his forgotten cigarette had started on his pants.
SWS
By: Spiffy Da WonderSheep
Spoilers: up to S6
Author's Note: What the HELL is wrong with me? I'm not only writing a fic about the not-on-screen meeting of B/A, I'm writing it angsty AND with Spike! Gah! I must really be depressed. Okay, here it comes, don't say I didn't warn you...
Of course he followed her. All of her friends said things like, "If you want us to go, we will..." but there was no way they were getting within a hundred feet of this firebomb. He didn't make any vague offers, but followed her anyway. The others didn't have a personal stake in this.
The wind whipped about him as he drove behind the bus, the rolled-down window bringing the familiar night smells of the Greater Los Angeles area. The bus was driving slow, for once following the speed limits imposed by federal law. The Fates were conspiring to make this torture last a thousand years. It pulled off the freeway, and he knew it was her destination. He could see the ponce's car in the parking lot of the strip mall.
He took the second entrance, and parked his car where he could see the whole thing. He had a momentary vision as she stepped down from the bus that she'd reach out and stake him, but of course that didn't happen. It did feel like he'd had something large and pointy and blunt shoved through his heart, however, when started stroking the blonde hair his face was already buried in. As if to add insult to injury.
About a million years later (according to his internal clock), they separated just enough to be able to enter the mall without tripping and falling all over each other. Maybe that would be a good thing, he mused as he lit a cigarette. He'd ever so accidentally have that 'one moment of happiness' and be out of the way. But it wouldn't work. Even if he was the one she turned to in her grief, which was not bleedin' likely, the specter would always be there.
"So," he asked himself out loud. "Where to now?" The 'Dale didn't need him any longer. She was able to take care of Lil' Bit herself now. The rest of the Gang wouldn't miss him. Niblet might, though, so he'd better send her a postcard and a prezzie every so often. An Aztec ceremonial dagger or a Glarhkwage battle axe. Things every teenage girl needs.
Maybe he'd go and see if he could track down Dru again. Apologize for the whole, "I'm going to stake my ex-lover to prove my love for a new bird" incident, see what sort of fun she'd set up around herself.
Or go off and wander around China again, see what the Communists had done to the country. Maybe finally get around to learning the Cantonese words that weren't insults. He idly wondered if Buffy liked Chinese food.
He shook himself, and tried to derail that train of thought before it even got started. Brazil was a nice country, maybe he'd go there. Or hit Japan, Tokyo's demon nightlife was legendary. Or he could stay in Sunnydale...
But there was nothing there for him, no real reason for him to stay around. Nancy-boy had proven that. Only time she'd ever gone running after him was when she'd thought he was about to spill the beans on the Lil' Bit. But all it took was one little request from the pouf (and he'd kill to know how King Poncy the First had gotten that puppy-dog look to work over the phone), and she'd jumped on the next inter-county bus. He knew bloodthirsty demons who weren't that brave. But, to quote one of the Gang, 'love makes you do the wacky.'
Yeah, the wacky things, like sitting in a parking lot, freezing your arse off, stalking the Slayer. As in Vampire Slayer. As in shortly-you're-going-to-fit-in-an-ashtray--if-she-catches-you Slayer. But would that really be a bad thing? A pile of dust and a piece of metal, and he'd not have to worry about things like finding blood and not hitting Xander and the love of his life running off with that bastard. Yeah, he'd said the 'L' word. Say it again: Love. And yet again: Love. And once more: Love! Again, with feeling! LOVE!
And the little old woman getting into the car next to him gives him a frightened look and clutches her pepper spray tighter. Like that would do anything major to him. Like he could do anything to her. Would he do anything to her if he wasn't neutered? Hmmm, that's a scary train of thought. He wasn't particularly hungry, but fresh blood would taste nice. And Buffy wouldn't---
Buffy would kick his ass, is what she'd do. And then all problems would be over in the aforementioned puff of dust. Minus the chunk of metal this time, because he'd no longer be neutered. It would be nice to leave it all behind, find out what's on the other side of this plane of existence. If just to say he'd been there.
Movement over by the big pouf's car caught his eye. It was just the two of them, emerging from wherever they had pranced off to. They were standing apart, and talking. She turned and ran at Slayer-speed for the bus. Not even a goodbye peck. Spike started up the engine of his car. Well, guess he isn't irresistible. Spike passed the bus and headed back to the 'Dale at high speed, with a Sex Pistols song in his heart. It doesn't matter which one, really. There was a feeling that resembled hope creating a warm spot in the place he used to call his 'heart', before it stopped beating.
Then, Spike cursed and swerved, almost causing an accident as he tried to put out the small fire his forgotten cigarette had started on his pants.
SWS
