TITLE: Cockroaches in the Basement
AUTHOR: Tzani
DISTRIBUTION: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=154134
RATING: PG-13
DISLAIMER: Sunnydale and its inhabitants belong to ME, not to me.
SUMMARY: Buffy's life takes another complicated turn as she finds an uninvited guest in her basement. Post Life Serial, S/B
FEEDBACK: tzani@hotpop.com Please send constructive criticism, I not only welcome it, I would appreciate it.
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"Another day, another load of laundry," Buffy thought bitterly as she headed down the basement stairs. She couldn't figure out how the four of them managed to create so much work. Clothes were strewn all about the machines, divided into somewhat organized piles. The colors spilled into the whites, covering up the small selection of black pants and dark shirts. Buffy quickly went through the piles, not really sorting, more pushing the clothes in different directions. Settling on starting with the whites, Buffy opened the lid of the washer to find it already contained a small, damp, dark load.
Buffy's shoulders sank. Despite her complaints, she knew she hadn't done laundry in a few days, and any clothes she left in the wash would be starting to mold. Willow and Tara would be forgiving if it was their clothes and it might even give Will something new to focus on, but Dawn might blow a gasket if she found out. Buffy pulled out the top shirt, surprised at how big it was for the petite residents of the Summers' household.
Spike.
It was one thing to know that the vampire had spent his whole summer sleeping in his crypt but living in her house. She could appreciate his commitment to her friends, and more realistically, his commitment to her sister. But, to see proof of how much her home had become his, it was just too much for her to bear. Especially since it wasn't supposed to be his home, not anymore. Why was he doing laundry here, instead of, well, wherever he used to do laundry?
She gathered up the wet clothing, plopping them on the top of the dryer. She turned on the washer, letting the water slowly drizzle in as she added the laundry detergent. She picked through the white load, trying at the same time to take a closer look and not look at what was in that pile. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she found something unmentionable that belonged to Spike, but she almost welcomed the confrontation, having something to get mad at him about. She sighed as she dropped the last article into the swirling water and slammed the lid shut. Her frustration bubbled to the surface and she picked up one of Spikes shirts and sent it flying into the corner of the basement.
"Hey!"
Buffy's temperament sank even more as she realized that the blond in question was lounging about in that corner, lying on an old mattress, his arms behind his head, his smirk covered by the dripping shirt. As he sat up, she threw another shirt at him, hitting him in the face again, this time on purpose.
"What are you doing here?"
Spike pulled both shirts off his head, and slowly got to his feet, pointedly avoiding her question for the time being. He gathered the rest of his load into his arms and put it all into the dryer. He grabbed a dryer sheet, shut the lid, and turned the machine on. Buffy was momentarily stunned by seemingly domestic addition of the static sheet.
"I slept through the buzzer, love."
"You what? Since when do you have a clock?" Buffy couldn't figure out what his alarm had to do with him using her basement for naptime.
"The buzzer, on the washing machine. I didn't hear it."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"That's why I'm here. I didn't hear the buzzer."
"Okay, let's try this again. Spike, why are you here, in my house, doing laundry?"
"I was dirty. And not in the fun way, that involves a woman or two. Or you." Spike flashed a grin at her, but continued before Buffy had a chance to smack at him, "No, the kind where I found myself covered in demon slime and sewer muck, and some stuff I don't even want to identify."
Buffy sighed, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It was late, 2am, she has just returned from patrolling and she wasn't ready to deal with him
"And do you usually do laundry at my house? Or is today just special?"
Spike hung his head and mumbled something she couldn't make out. When he looked up again, he knew he'd have to confess, or she'd send him outside to the sunshine, and without his cleaned clothes.
So, he sighed, and repeated himself. A little louder, but still at a whisper, "There's cockroaches in my basement."
Buffy burst out laughing. She couldn't help herself; a picture of William the Bloody perched up on a stool flashed through her head.
"It's not funny," Spike responded, a hurt look flashing across his face. "I don't like them. They're crunchy and slimy and make scurrying noises and ..." he trailed off.
Buffy struggled to gain control of her laughter. She couldn't remember the last time something was this funny; she couldn't remember the last time she was able to let herself get caught up in a positive emotion. Maybe if she could remember, she wouldn't have said what she did next.
"Okay, let's go kill some roaches," Buffy said, her breath finally under control.
A flash of surprise jumped across Spike's face.
- - -
The pair made their way through the cemetery, neither saying a word. There was a nervous tension in the air, of anticipation, and it confused Buffy. Spike might be bothered by the cockroaches, though she couldn't figure out why, but for her, cockroaches were just another slimy creature, one that had the advantage of being stompable. If she thought about it, Buffy might have realized that she was feeling nervous because of Spike's presence. But, part of why she was feeling nervous was because she was trying not to think of how Spike's presence made her feel.
They reached his crypt door, and Spike opened it, letting Buffy walk in first. There was something about the cockroaches that made him wary, and he didn't want to find them first. His thoughts were roaming, "let Miss I'm-Not-Afraid-Of-Creepy-Crawlers laugh all she wants. Let's see who thinks it's funny when her shoes are covered in green guts." He closed the door behind them, and a memory flashed into his mind. The last time he opened a door for her, he had ended up with his invitation into her home revoked. "We're past that now, aren't we?" he thought, but the truth was he wasn't sure. She had come to him for help last year too, but he always managed to bollocks something up, and he wasn't sure where they stood. He wasn't even positive if it was a good sign that she was helping him, because she thought of him as her friend, or if she was only helping him because she was upset at finding him in her house. He was comforted by the thought that she probably didn't know either.
"I can't believe he's scared of a few bugs. This from the vamp who..." Spike could hear Buffy mumbling to herself, but the sound slowly diminished as she climbed down to the lower level. He threw his duffle bag of laundry on the floor, and followed her down.
- TBC -
(When I update, I won't upload a new chapter, I will re-upload the whole story. I just have a single scene in the middle to work on, the rest of the story is complete. Anyone who would be willing to help me edit, please send me an email.)
AUTHOR: Tzani
DISTRIBUTION: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=154134
RATING: PG-13
DISLAIMER: Sunnydale and its inhabitants belong to ME, not to me.
SUMMARY: Buffy's life takes another complicated turn as she finds an uninvited guest in her basement. Post Life Serial, S/B
FEEDBACK: tzani@hotpop.com Please send constructive criticism, I not only welcome it, I would appreciate it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Another day, another load of laundry," Buffy thought bitterly as she headed down the basement stairs. She couldn't figure out how the four of them managed to create so much work. Clothes were strewn all about the machines, divided into somewhat organized piles. The colors spilled into the whites, covering up the small selection of black pants and dark shirts. Buffy quickly went through the piles, not really sorting, more pushing the clothes in different directions. Settling on starting with the whites, Buffy opened the lid of the washer to find it already contained a small, damp, dark load.
Buffy's shoulders sank. Despite her complaints, she knew she hadn't done laundry in a few days, and any clothes she left in the wash would be starting to mold. Willow and Tara would be forgiving if it was their clothes and it might even give Will something new to focus on, but Dawn might blow a gasket if she found out. Buffy pulled out the top shirt, surprised at how big it was for the petite residents of the Summers' household.
Spike.
It was one thing to know that the vampire had spent his whole summer sleeping in his crypt but living in her house. She could appreciate his commitment to her friends, and more realistically, his commitment to her sister. But, to see proof of how much her home had become his, it was just too much for her to bear. Especially since it wasn't supposed to be his home, not anymore. Why was he doing laundry here, instead of, well, wherever he used to do laundry?
She gathered up the wet clothing, plopping them on the top of the dryer. She turned on the washer, letting the water slowly drizzle in as she added the laundry detergent. She picked through the white load, trying at the same time to take a closer look and not look at what was in that pile. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she found something unmentionable that belonged to Spike, but she almost welcomed the confrontation, having something to get mad at him about. She sighed as she dropped the last article into the swirling water and slammed the lid shut. Her frustration bubbled to the surface and she picked up one of Spikes shirts and sent it flying into the corner of the basement.
"Hey!"
Buffy's temperament sank even more as she realized that the blond in question was lounging about in that corner, lying on an old mattress, his arms behind his head, his smirk covered by the dripping shirt. As he sat up, she threw another shirt at him, hitting him in the face again, this time on purpose.
"What are you doing here?"
Spike pulled both shirts off his head, and slowly got to his feet, pointedly avoiding her question for the time being. He gathered the rest of his load into his arms and put it all into the dryer. He grabbed a dryer sheet, shut the lid, and turned the machine on. Buffy was momentarily stunned by seemingly domestic addition of the static sheet.
"I slept through the buzzer, love."
"You what? Since when do you have a clock?" Buffy couldn't figure out what his alarm had to do with him using her basement for naptime.
"The buzzer, on the washing machine. I didn't hear it."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"That's why I'm here. I didn't hear the buzzer."
"Okay, let's try this again. Spike, why are you here, in my house, doing laundry?"
"I was dirty. And not in the fun way, that involves a woman or two. Or you." Spike flashed a grin at her, but continued before Buffy had a chance to smack at him, "No, the kind where I found myself covered in demon slime and sewer muck, and some stuff I don't even want to identify."
Buffy sighed, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. It was late, 2am, she has just returned from patrolling and she wasn't ready to deal with him
"And do you usually do laundry at my house? Or is today just special?"
Spike hung his head and mumbled something she couldn't make out. When he looked up again, he knew he'd have to confess, or she'd send him outside to the sunshine, and without his cleaned clothes.
So, he sighed, and repeated himself. A little louder, but still at a whisper, "There's cockroaches in my basement."
Buffy burst out laughing. She couldn't help herself; a picture of William the Bloody perched up on a stool flashed through her head.
"It's not funny," Spike responded, a hurt look flashing across his face. "I don't like them. They're crunchy and slimy and make scurrying noises and ..." he trailed off.
Buffy struggled to gain control of her laughter. She couldn't remember the last time something was this funny; she couldn't remember the last time she was able to let herself get caught up in a positive emotion. Maybe if she could remember, she wouldn't have said what she did next.
"Okay, let's go kill some roaches," Buffy said, her breath finally under control.
A flash of surprise jumped across Spike's face.
- - -
The pair made their way through the cemetery, neither saying a word. There was a nervous tension in the air, of anticipation, and it confused Buffy. Spike might be bothered by the cockroaches, though she couldn't figure out why, but for her, cockroaches were just another slimy creature, one that had the advantage of being stompable. If she thought about it, Buffy might have realized that she was feeling nervous because of Spike's presence. But, part of why she was feeling nervous was because she was trying not to think of how Spike's presence made her feel.
They reached his crypt door, and Spike opened it, letting Buffy walk in first. There was something about the cockroaches that made him wary, and he didn't want to find them first. His thoughts were roaming, "let Miss I'm-Not-Afraid-Of-Creepy-Crawlers laugh all she wants. Let's see who thinks it's funny when her shoes are covered in green guts." He closed the door behind them, and a memory flashed into his mind. The last time he opened a door for her, he had ended up with his invitation into her home revoked. "We're past that now, aren't we?" he thought, but the truth was he wasn't sure. She had come to him for help last year too, but he always managed to bollocks something up, and he wasn't sure where they stood. He wasn't even positive if it was a good sign that she was helping him, because she thought of him as her friend, or if she was only helping him because she was upset at finding him in her house. He was comforted by the thought that she probably didn't know either.
"I can't believe he's scared of a few bugs. This from the vamp who..." Spike could hear Buffy mumbling to herself, but the sound slowly diminished as she climbed down to the lower level. He threw his duffle bag of laundry on the floor, and followed her down.
- TBC -
(When I update, I won't upload a new chapter, I will re-upload the whole story. I just have a single scene in the middle to work on, the rest of the story is complete. Anyone who would be willing to help me edit, please send me an email.)