TITLE: " Garden of Eden "
AUTHOR: LilHairyEyeball
FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.
SUMMARY: Alternate Season Four fic, stemming from Something Blue onwards.
SPOILERS: Up through Season 4
RATING: Giving it an R rating, in case I get frisky. Which I tend to do.
DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples
---
The past few days had been strange for Buffy. She'd wanted to go to Riley's funeral, but the details were surprisingly hush-hush. As Giles pointed out, being involved with a strange military group, who knows what the real deal was.
She and Spike were getting on quite well, though neither had really talked about what had happened after the defeat of the Gentlemen. It's a guy thing though, right? Her track record was clear on the subject. Get close to a boy, and then get ignored by a boy. But he wasn't really ignoring her, and that was the confusing part. He still patrolled with her, and they talked until sunrise, but there had been no more kissage. Not even attempted kissage, and she was seriously starting to get ticked off by it.
Willow knew something had happened that day, but by the time she'd arrived back at the room, Spike had vanished, and Buffy was in deep, deep denial. If there was nothing actually going on, there was nothing to talk about, right?
Take today for example. They'd spent a nice girly day together, two girls with no romantic attachments, and now she was on her way to meet Spike. Buffy was going to help the vampire scout out a new place to live, of all things. In the freaking cemetery, of all places. Life was weird. Good, but weird.
---
"12 and a half feet? How short are these stiffs anyways?" asked Spike, as he snapped the tape measure up.
"Hey, speaking for the short citizens of our fair dale, shaddup!" laughed Buffy, jotting the latest measurement in the notebook. "Have you considered some of the crypts over by the Alperts? Some of those are extra spacey. For freaky cereal boxes of death, I mean. There might be something a little more continental for a man of your tastes."
Spike laughed. He loved this weird new friendship, no matter how perverted it could be considered. The Slayer of Slayers, crib hunting with the Chosen One. Not to mention the fact she'd painted his toenails fire engine red last night. He was broken from his thoughts by the enthusiastic squeal of a girl gone shopping.
"Oh! This one! It's perfect!"
Spike took a second to admire her choice. Got to admit it, the girls got style. There's just one tiny problem.
"Um, luv? You do remember this one, right? And I quote "Wouldn't this be a perfect place for pictures?" Don't you think it might be less than appropriate?"
Buffy blushed. Okay, she hadn't even noticed it was the same part of the graveyard that she'd picked for wedding photos. And damn, if that thought didn't make her think of kissing Spike, which made her think of the current lack of kissing . . . and she was not going to pout. Dammit.
"Well, I don't feel weird, so you shouldn't feel weird. I mean, it's not weird, is it. Weird would be . . ."
"Just can it, Slayer, I was thinking of you. Let's see what this puppy measures up to be, shall we?" He shook his head in fake dismay and began pulling out the tape, as Buffy took the other end and headed to the back of the Mausoleum.
Buffy waited patiently for Spike to read out the measurement, and instead admired the foliage near-by. It really was beautiful. She frowned when she realized Spike still hadn't given her a number, and looked up to see what had him so pre-occupied.
"Well. What do I spy with my little eye? A demon. That would be . . .oh, right . . . the things I can kill."
Buffy sighed. And once again, it's time for the killing. His newfound zest for ridding the world of evil was starting to seriously cut into her fun time. Not that she could fault the guy. She was usually up for a little slay herself.
The demon growled and snarled, and Buffy stood by, ready to step in and help Spike kill it, so she was surprised when he called it Giles, and rushed over.
"And . . . by the way, why the hell are you suddenly a Fyarl demon? You just come over all demony this morning?"
"What? Wait, this is Giles? What happened to Giles?" Buffy was wigged to the max now. Her pseudo-boyfriend was conversing in a strange language with a demon claiming to be her watcher? God, it must be Tuesday.
---
"As a matter of fact, I did. Thanks to Ethan Rayne. You have to help me find him. He must undo this and then he needs a . . . good being killed." Giles was incredibly frustrated now, having to get help from Spike and Buffy of all people! And wait, Spike and Buffy with tape measures?
"And why are you measuring mausoleums anyway? Good grief, the pair of you. And why are you helping him Buffy? Desecrating the resting places of only God know who?"
"What's he saying?"
"It's a just a lecture, luv," assured Spike, as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Don't worry; I'm sure he'll give you a repeat performance once he's all proper again."
"Well how the hell do we do that? I mean, who did this to him?" Buffy was wringing her hands. She so hated when things were out of control, and Spike as translator just screamed trouble, didn't it?
"Some bloke called Ethan Rayne did it, apparently." At the look on his Slayer's face, he realized this wasn't just a simple nobody, but one of those Scooby nemesis types. Christ. Once upon a time, he would have teamed up with the bastard. Now he was going to hunt him down and kill him for hurting his Slayer. "I take it we know this fella, then?"
Buffy snorted, and kicked at the ground. "Oh yeah. Think back, to a certain Halloween of chaos and destruction. That, my friend, was Ethan Rayne. I don't suppose you were around for the great band candy debacle of '98, were you? Lumpy over there went all Ripper on us, and slept with mom. On the hood of a police car!"
"Rupert! You old dog! Joyce? Nice job." God bless the Fyarl language, otherwise that would have earned him a smack upside the head, he's sure.
"Dear Lord, what has she been telling you? Look. We have important things to do! People to maim! Can we please not dilly dally around with stories of personal affairs."
"Oi Slayer, the Watcher's getting tetchy. What say we bung him with the witch and the whelp while we round up this Rayne git? Eh?"
Buffy nodded. She so couldn't deal with this.
---
Having a friend, who has no qualms about breaking and entering, is great. No need to cause too much damage when you have to get into places. Such as, say . . . a Magic shop to check out receipts? Within minutes, they'd confirmed that Ethan had been in town and bought supplies. Giles was right, and now Ethan was going to pay. Somehow. She hadn't gotten that far into the plan yet. She was pretty much winging it.
She was waiting in the Desoto now, as Spike chatted up some waitress ho for information on Ethan. The chick had to be a ho, she could see them through the window. She was being all touchy-feely with Buffy's vampire. Ho. No, she was in no way, shape or form jealous. Not one little bit. God, WHY hadn't he kissed her again? Damn Stupid men, and damn stupid vampires.
By the time he came back to the car, she'd worked herself into a nice little frenzy, but it was quickly neutralized when he presented her with Ethan's room number at the Sunnydale Lodge. He was like some sort of God.
---
"You're lucky we didn't gag you as well, Ethan!" Buffy slumped forward in her chair, trying to drown out the threat tactics that Spike and Willow were using on a currently bound Ethan. "I swear, you don't start talking soon, then I think Spike is going to start getting hungry, although I could be wrong."
"Not wrong Red, I'm already getting the rumbles, just thinking about a free meal. You've got to love delivery." Spike, in game face, stroked his fangs with his tongue, causing Buffy's brain to take several trips to the gutter, before she decided enough was enough, and jumped to her feet.
"Okay! Game over. Ethan, start talking, or I swear to God, I'll beat you, Giles will beat you and then we'll let Spike here finish you off. I haven't got the time or patience for this crap tonight!"
Four pairs of eyes, two human, two demon, swivelled to face the fuming Slayer. That alone made Ethan uncomfortable, but the fact he didn't doubt her promises had him absolutely terrified.
"Enough, I'll talk, just please send the girl away so I can concentrate on the counter spell?" Ethan begged.
Willow nodded and nudged her head to the door. Buffy didn't need telling twice, and headed out of the suffocating apartment into the cold evening.
Within seconds, Spike had sprinted out after her.
AUTHOR: LilHairyEyeball
FEEDBACK: Gimme gimme. Just be gentle.
SUMMARY: Alternate Season Four fic, stemming from Something Blue onwards.
SPOILERS: Up through Season 4
RATING: Giving it an R rating, in case I get frisky. Which I tend to do.
DISCLAIMER: Nobody buys me good presents, so I steal other peoples
---
The past few days had been strange for Buffy. She'd wanted to go to Riley's funeral, but the details were surprisingly hush-hush. As Giles pointed out, being involved with a strange military group, who knows what the real deal was.
She and Spike were getting on quite well, though neither had really talked about what had happened after the defeat of the Gentlemen. It's a guy thing though, right? Her track record was clear on the subject. Get close to a boy, and then get ignored by a boy. But he wasn't really ignoring her, and that was the confusing part. He still patrolled with her, and they talked until sunrise, but there had been no more kissage. Not even attempted kissage, and she was seriously starting to get ticked off by it.
Willow knew something had happened that day, but by the time she'd arrived back at the room, Spike had vanished, and Buffy was in deep, deep denial. If there was nothing actually going on, there was nothing to talk about, right?
Take today for example. They'd spent a nice girly day together, two girls with no romantic attachments, and now she was on her way to meet Spike. Buffy was going to help the vampire scout out a new place to live, of all things. In the freaking cemetery, of all places. Life was weird. Good, but weird.
---
"12 and a half feet? How short are these stiffs anyways?" asked Spike, as he snapped the tape measure up.
"Hey, speaking for the short citizens of our fair dale, shaddup!" laughed Buffy, jotting the latest measurement in the notebook. "Have you considered some of the crypts over by the Alperts? Some of those are extra spacey. For freaky cereal boxes of death, I mean. There might be something a little more continental for a man of your tastes."
Spike laughed. He loved this weird new friendship, no matter how perverted it could be considered. The Slayer of Slayers, crib hunting with the Chosen One. Not to mention the fact she'd painted his toenails fire engine red last night. He was broken from his thoughts by the enthusiastic squeal of a girl gone shopping.
"Oh! This one! It's perfect!"
Spike took a second to admire her choice. Got to admit it, the girls got style. There's just one tiny problem.
"Um, luv? You do remember this one, right? And I quote "Wouldn't this be a perfect place for pictures?" Don't you think it might be less than appropriate?"
Buffy blushed. Okay, she hadn't even noticed it was the same part of the graveyard that she'd picked for wedding photos. And damn, if that thought didn't make her think of kissing Spike, which made her think of the current lack of kissing . . . and she was not going to pout. Dammit.
"Well, I don't feel weird, so you shouldn't feel weird. I mean, it's not weird, is it. Weird would be . . ."
"Just can it, Slayer, I was thinking of you. Let's see what this puppy measures up to be, shall we?" He shook his head in fake dismay and began pulling out the tape, as Buffy took the other end and headed to the back of the Mausoleum.
Buffy waited patiently for Spike to read out the measurement, and instead admired the foliage near-by. It really was beautiful. She frowned when she realized Spike still hadn't given her a number, and looked up to see what had him so pre-occupied.
"Well. What do I spy with my little eye? A demon. That would be . . .oh, right . . . the things I can kill."
Buffy sighed. And once again, it's time for the killing. His newfound zest for ridding the world of evil was starting to seriously cut into her fun time. Not that she could fault the guy. She was usually up for a little slay herself.
The demon growled and snarled, and Buffy stood by, ready to step in and help Spike kill it, so she was surprised when he called it Giles, and rushed over.
"And . . . by the way, why the hell are you suddenly a Fyarl demon? You just come over all demony this morning?"
"What? Wait, this is Giles? What happened to Giles?" Buffy was wigged to the max now. Her pseudo-boyfriend was conversing in a strange language with a demon claiming to be her watcher? God, it must be Tuesday.
---
"As a matter of fact, I did. Thanks to Ethan Rayne. You have to help me find him. He must undo this and then he needs a . . . good being killed." Giles was incredibly frustrated now, having to get help from Spike and Buffy of all people! And wait, Spike and Buffy with tape measures?
"And why are you measuring mausoleums anyway? Good grief, the pair of you. And why are you helping him Buffy? Desecrating the resting places of only God know who?"
"What's he saying?"
"It's a just a lecture, luv," assured Spike, as he stubbed out his cigarette. "Don't worry; I'm sure he'll give you a repeat performance once he's all proper again."
"Well how the hell do we do that? I mean, who did this to him?" Buffy was wringing her hands. She so hated when things were out of control, and Spike as translator just screamed trouble, didn't it?
"Some bloke called Ethan Rayne did it, apparently." At the look on his Slayer's face, he realized this wasn't just a simple nobody, but one of those Scooby nemesis types. Christ. Once upon a time, he would have teamed up with the bastard. Now he was going to hunt him down and kill him for hurting his Slayer. "I take it we know this fella, then?"
Buffy snorted, and kicked at the ground. "Oh yeah. Think back, to a certain Halloween of chaos and destruction. That, my friend, was Ethan Rayne. I don't suppose you were around for the great band candy debacle of '98, were you? Lumpy over there went all Ripper on us, and slept with mom. On the hood of a police car!"
"Rupert! You old dog! Joyce? Nice job." God bless the Fyarl language, otherwise that would have earned him a smack upside the head, he's sure.
"Dear Lord, what has she been telling you? Look. We have important things to do! People to maim! Can we please not dilly dally around with stories of personal affairs."
"Oi Slayer, the Watcher's getting tetchy. What say we bung him with the witch and the whelp while we round up this Rayne git? Eh?"
Buffy nodded. She so couldn't deal with this.
---
Having a friend, who has no qualms about breaking and entering, is great. No need to cause too much damage when you have to get into places. Such as, say . . . a Magic shop to check out receipts? Within minutes, they'd confirmed that Ethan had been in town and bought supplies. Giles was right, and now Ethan was going to pay. Somehow. She hadn't gotten that far into the plan yet. She was pretty much winging it.
She was waiting in the Desoto now, as Spike chatted up some waitress ho for information on Ethan. The chick had to be a ho, she could see them through the window. She was being all touchy-feely with Buffy's vampire. Ho. No, she was in no way, shape or form jealous. Not one little bit. God, WHY hadn't he kissed her again? Damn Stupid men, and damn stupid vampires.
By the time he came back to the car, she'd worked herself into a nice little frenzy, but it was quickly neutralized when he presented her with Ethan's room number at the Sunnydale Lodge. He was like some sort of God.
---
"You're lucky we didn't gag you as well, Ethan!" Buffy slumped forward in her chair, trying to drown out the threat tactics that Spike and Willow were using on a currently bound Ethan. "I swear, you don't start talking soon, then I think Spike is going to start getting hungry, although I could be wrong."
"Not wrong Red, I'm already getting the rumbles, just thinking about a free meal. You've got to love delivery." Spike, in game face, stroked his fangs with his tongue, causing Buffy's brain to take several trips to the gutter, before she decided enough was enough, and jumped to her feet.
"Okay! Game over. Ethan, start talking, or I swear to God, I'll beat you, Giles will beat you and then we'll let Spike here finish you off. I haven't got the time or patience for this crap tonight!"
Four pairs of eyes, two human, two demon, swivelled to face the fuming Slayer. That alone made Ethan uncomfortable, but the fact he didn't doubt her promises had him absolutely terrified.
"Enough, I'll talk, just please send the girl away so I can concentrate on the counter spell?" Ethan begged.
Willow nodded and nudged her head to the door. Buffy didn't need telling twice, and headed out of the suffocating apartment into the cold evening.
Within seconds, Spike had sprinted out after her.
