Title: A Passing Shadow: Book I: Deep Down Dark: Chapter 5
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
"I don't care WHAT you say! I'm going. You can't stop me. YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!" **SLAM**
I should have gone after her and made her come back to the house. I knew that if I let her get away with it once...but I just didn't seem to be the ball of energy I usually was at seven in the evening. Imagine that.
I dragged myself into the living room and sat down. Spike was listening to the TV-some cop show. He turned the volume down when I came in.
I'd been avoiding him for days-ever since he lost the bandages. I never did come home that night. I stayed out, hunting for Drusilla, the big, determined Slayer. Was gonna stake her bad. Except she never showed-not at his crypt or anywhere else. And since there hadn't been any slaughters that were marked by her particular brand of loony, I guessed she skipped town. Smarter than I thought.
So I'd gone on a little rampage of my own, taking out fledgling nests right and left, routing the vamp-whore houses, and scouring the sewers for demons that didn't even feed on humans. Wish I could say it helped.
I made excuses to stay away from the house, leaving Dawn to tend Spike. Not a very cool thing to do, though they didn't seem to mind it. Except on that evening Dawn had made plans. Plans she hadn't bothered to clear with me. I'd wanted to patrol, but she had a screaming fit and...**SLAM**
So there I was, sitting in the living room with Spike, wishing I could go out and kill something, but feeling like I couldn't leave him alone.
"You know, Slayer, I don't need a sitter." The first words he'd spoken to me in days.
"I know that, Spike. But..."
"But what?"
"It just seems wrong to leave you alone. Besides, I could use a night off."
I sat there, staring at the muted TV screen.
"What's wrong, Buffy?"
"Nothing."
"Bugger 'nothin.' I can hear you poutin' from over here."
"I'm not pouting. I'm brooding. It's a whole different vibe." That got a smile.
"Bad habit, pet. Pick it up from Peaches?"
My turn to smile. "Yeah, maybe."
More quiet.
"What am I going to do about her, Spike? I can't seem to get through at all."
He didn't answer right away. Seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration, which was so different from his usual line of sarcasm that it made me sit up and pay attention.
"You're tryin' too hard, Slayer. Gotta know when to ease up. Pick your battles."
Not what I wanted to hear. Wanted to hear that I was doing what had to be done and Dawn was just a spoiled brat who didn't know how good she had it.
"Right. Like I'd take parenting advice from you." Now who was the spoiled brat? And snarky, too.
"You did ask, pet."
"Yeah. Sorry."
Quiet. Stupid, stupid quiet.
"She's got herself a fellow, you know."
"What?"
"Yeah. Name of Ricky. Came 'round to see her yesterday. Seems a likely enough little whelp, but then, I couldn't check him out properly. Smelled OK, though. Called me 'sir'."
"Since when?"
"Don't know. Couple weeks, maybe."
"She didn't say anything."
"You've been preoccupied. My fault." He sighed. "Which brings me to what I've been meanin' to tell you. Time's come for me to be clearin' out. Don't fancy bein' a burden on you-you've enough on your plate."
"Spike, don't be an idiot. You can't leave."
"Can't I? An' why's that?" His voice was mellow, but I could sense the edge underneath.
"You're in no shape to be on your own. And you won't be-maybe not for months. Giles says-"
"Sod that! I can bloody well take care of myself, Slayer, an' that pansy-arsed Watcher of yours can-"
"Careful, Spike. Giles is just trying to help-"
"I don't need his soddin' help. Or yours, for that matter. A lift to my crypt, that's all I bloody well need. Not even that, if you'd just point me in the right direction."
"Yeah, right. Like you'd survive ten minutes out there alone, walking into walls and tripping over headstones. Maybe we could get you one of those little red and white canes, or-I know!-a seeing-eye-dog!" I was trying to distract him from the subject of his crypt. I had killed something in the neighborhood of thirty demons in the past seventy-two hours, but I didn't have the guts to tell him that all his stuff was trashed.
"Sod off, you stupid, heartless bitch."
Whoa. The words were bad enough, but if you could have heard the tone...
He was standing up, stumbling around, looking for something.
"Sit down, Spike, before you hurt yourself. What're you looking for, anyway?"
"My bleedin' boots! Where are they, Slayer? Tell me, or I swear, I'll-" He tripped over the coffee table and would have fallen if I hadn't caught him.
He fought me, which activated the chip, which made him grab his head and moan. What a fun, fun evening. And it was still early.
I pushed him back onto the sofa. He popped up again, growling. I knocked him back and sat on him.
"Look, you moron, you can't go back to your crypt. You aren't ready to be on your own yet."
"I don't give a flyin' fuck WHAT you say! I'm OUT of here, Slayer, an' you can do bugger-all to stop me! YOU'RE NOT MY KEEPER!" All that was missing was the **SLAM** and only because I was straddling him. I tried not to laugh.
"No. Forget it. It's not happening."
He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he tried a different approach. I love it when he does the charming thing.
"Buffy, listen to me. I have everythin' I could ever ask for in my crypt. Yeah, sure, I might need some assistance now and again if I expect to eat properly, but we can work that out. There's just no need for me to hang about here any longer. It's not right." His voice had gone all soft and persuasive. I almost gave in. He's that good.
And then I had to tell him.
When I finally made him understand that there was nothing left to go back to-that his crypt just wasn't home anymore-I felt him give up. He just kinda slumped down into the cushions and hung his head.
God, I felt so bad. Like, serious sympathy and I KNEW how much he would hate that. So I tried the confrontational approach-you know, the one that always worked so well in the past?
"Come on, Spike, get over it. It's just stuff. Quit feeling sorry for yourself."
No response.
"Wallow much, Blondie? It isn't pretty on you."
Nothing.
"GET A FREAKIN' GRIP, WILLIAM!"
Bingo!
"What the bleedin' hell do YOU know about it? You an' your tasteful little house with all the creature comforts...that STUFF, as you call it, was all I had in the BLOODY, SODDIN' UNIVERSE-"
Not really sure what made me do it, but I think it was the change I saw in his eyes when he finally lost the last shred of his temper. They went from blue to gold in a flash. It was the first time they looked alive to me, and it gave me a huge happy to see it.
So I kissed him. Seemed perfectly logical at the time.
tbc
Author: VicNoir
Rating: R
Disclaimers, etc.: please see previous chapters.
"I don't care WHAT you say! I'm going. You can't stop me. YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!" **SLAM**
I should have gone after her and made her come back to the house. I knew that if I let her get away with it once...but I just didn't seem to be the ball of energy I usually was at seven in the evening. Imagine that.
I dragged myself into the living room and sat down. Spike was listening to the TV-some cop show. He turned the volume down when I came in.
I'd been avoiding him for days-ever since he lost the bandages. I never did come home that night. I stayed out, hunting for Drusilla, the big, determined Slayer. Was gonna stake her bad. Except she never showed-not at his crypt or anywhere else. And since there hadn't been any slaughters that were marked by her particular brand of loony, I guessed she skipped town. Smarter than I thought.
So I'd gone on a little rampage of my own, taking out fledgling nests right and left, routing the vamp-whore houses, and scouring the sewers for demons that didn't even feed on humans. Wish I could say it helped.
I made excuses to stay away from the house, leaving Dawn to tend Spike. Not a very cool thing to do, though they didn't seem to mind it. Except on that evening Dawn had made plans. Plans she hadn't bothered to clear with me. I'd wanted to patrol, but she had a screaming fit and...**SLAM**
So there I was, sitting in the living room with Spike, wishing I could go out and kill something, but feeling like I couldn't leave him alone.
"You know, Slayer, I don't need a sitter." The first words he'd spoken to me in days.
"I know that, Spike. But..."
"But what?"
"It just seems wrong to leave you alone. Besides, I could use a night off."
I sat there, staring at the muted TV screen.
"What's wrong, Buffy?"
"Nothing."
"Bugger 'nothin.' I can hear you poutin' from over here."
"I'm not pouting. I'm brooding. It's a whole different vibe." That got a smile.
"Bad habit, pet. Pick it up from Peaches?"
My turn to smile. "Yeah, maybe."
More quiet.
"What am I going to do about her, Spike? I can't seem to get through at all."
He didn't answer right away. Seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration, which was so different from his usual line of sarcasm that it made me sit up and pay attention.
"You're tryin' too hard, Slayer. Gotta know when to ease up. Pick your battles."
Not what I wanted to hear. Wanted to hear that I was doing what had to be done and Dawn was just a spoiled brat who didn't know how good she had it.
"Right. Like I'd take parenting advice from you." Now who was the spoiled brat? And snarky, too.
"You did ask, pet."
"Yeah. Sorry."
Quiet. Stupid, stupid quiet.
"She's got herself a fellow, you know."
"What?"
"Yeah. Name of Ricky. Came 'round to see her yesterday. Seems a likely enough little whelp, but then, I couldn't check him out properly. Smelled OK, though. Called me 'sir'."
"Since when?"
"Don't know. Couple weeks, maybe."
"She didn't say anything."
"You've been preoccupied. My fault." He sighed. "Which brings me to what I've been meanin' to tell you. Time's come for me to be clearin' out. Don't fancy bein' a burden on you-you've enough on your plate."
"Spike, don't be an idiot. You can't leave."
"Can't I? An' why's that?" His voice was mellow, but I could sense the edge underneath.
"You're in no shape to be on your own. And you won't be-maybe not for months. Giles says-"
"Sod that! I can bloody well take care of myself, Slayer, an' that pansy-arsed Watcher of yours can-"
"Careful, Spike. Giles is just trying to help-"
"I don't need his soddin' help. Or yours, for that matter. A lift to my crypt, that's all I bloody well need. Not even that, if you'd just point me in the right direction."
"Yeah, right. Like you'd survive ten minutes out there alone, walking into walls and tripping over headstones. Maybe we could get you one of those little red and white canes, or-I know!-a seeing-eye-dog!" I was trying to distract him from the subject of his crypt. I had killed something in the neighborhood of thirty demons in the past seventy-two hours, but I didn't have the guts to tell him that all his stuff was trashed.
"Sod off, you stupid, heartless bitch."
Whoa. The words were bad enough, but if you could have heard the tone...
He was standing up, stumbling around, looking for something.
"Sit down, Spike, before you hurt yourself. What're you looking for, anyway?"
"My bleedin' boots! Where are they, Slayer? Tell me, or I swear, I'll-" He tripped over the coffee table and would have fallen if I hadn't caught him.
He fought me, which activated the chip, which made him grab his head and moan. What a fun, fun evening. And it was still early.
I pushed him back onto the sofa. He popped up again, growling. I knocked him back and sat on him.
"Look, you moron, you can't go back to your crypt. You aren't ready to be on your own yet."
"I don't give a flyin' fuck WHAT you say! I'm OUT of here, Slayer, an' you can do bugger-all to stop me! YOU'RE NOT MY KEEPER!" All that was missing was the **SLAM** and only because I was straddling him. I tried not to laugh.
"No. Forget it. It's not happening."
He was quiet for a few seconds. Then he tried a different approach. I love it when he does the charming thing.
"Buffy, listen to me. I have everythin' I could ever ask for in my crypt. Yeah, sure, I might need some assistance now and again if I expect to eat properly, but we can work that out. There's just no need for me to hang about here any longer. It's not right." His voice had gone all soft and persuasive. I almost gave in. He's that good.
And then I had to tell him.
When I finally made him understand that there was nothing left to go back to-that his crypt just wasn't home anymore-I felt him give up. He just kinda slumped down into the cushions and hung his head.
God, I felt so bad. Like, serious sympathy and I KNEW how much he would hate that. So I tried the confrontational approach-you know, the one that always worked so well in the past?
"Come on, Spike, get over it. It's just stuff. Quit feeling sorry for yourself."
No response.
"Wallow much, Blondie? It isn't pretty on you."
Nothing.
"GET A FREAKIN' GRIP, WILLIAM!"
Bingo!
"What the bleedin' hell do YOU know about it? You an' your tasteful little house with all the creature comforts...that STUFF, as you call it, was all I had in the BLOODY, SODDIN' UNIVERSE-"
Not really sure what made me do it, but I think it was the change I saw in his eyes when he finally lost the last shred of his temper. They went from blue to gold in a flash. It was the first time they looked alive to me, and it gave me a huge happy to see it.
So I kissed him. Seemed perfectly logical at the time.
tbc