Disclaimer: All characters from 'Angel the Series' don't belong to me, they belong to whoever created/wrote/owns them. And yes, I am too lazy to look up the names of the people who own them, but I can guarantee it's not me. So, don't sue me please!!! The story idea is mine though, so let's not use it without my permission, m'kay?
Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This is just a little Angel/BtVS story that up and occurred to me overnight (literally), I wonder why so many of them occur at night? Am I that vampire brainsoaked? Yes, I know that's not a word. So, anyway, I decided to write it! You should note, not a "pairing" I normally write, so this is a bit of an experiment for moi.
Spoilers: Just general fearsome four stuff. Also some for Epiphany, Reprise, and other episodes to do with Dru & Darla, in BtVS general episodes to deal with Buffy & Spike, and Spike & Dru
Story Notes: This is short, sweet, and hopefully finished. ;) I never can quite tell if I'll finish something or not. Takes place in BtVS while Buffy and Spike are "broken up" and in Angel before Heartthrob, assuming that Darla wasn't pregnant. Yes, I know that makes my timelines slightly off, but it's necessary, so if it bugs you that much I can assure you it won't be mentioned much and if it still bugs you, you probably shouldn't be reading this!
Pairings: Spike/Darla (D/A, D/Dru, S/Dru, S/Aus, S/B, A/B)
Summary: After failed relationships with Angel and Buffy, Darla and Spike respectively get together to drown their trials in drinks and the companionship of family.
Feedback: Yes! Feed the author, please! Critique/Comments/Enjoyment is greatly appreciated, honestly, just drop me a line! Goddess_Delenn@yahoo.com
Distribution: My site, BFW. Everyone else has to ask, all you have to do is click the above link and tell me you want it, I guarantee I'll say yes, you just have to ask first!
Songs For This Fiction: Currently, none.
Warnings: Sex/Language/Violence: yep/minor/mentioned.
Rating: R
Date Started/Finished: January 2nd, 2004
Stained Blonde
By ~Delenn~
When the door crashed open and he caught sight of a blonde head coming his way, Spike was expecting to meet with a violent, petite, blonde-haired woman. However, he wasn't prepared for it to be this violent, petite, blonde. "Hello there, pet."
She surveyed her new surroundings with obvious distaste, before casting her gaze to the sole other occupant of the dwelling, and flashing him a wickedly winning smile. "A crypt, could you get any more typical, William?"
Spike stood up straight, flicking off the TV before she could catch what was on it but not bothering to do anything about the scattered bottles of alcohol. If she didn't know about his drinking habits by now, he would start to doubt her sanity. "Not to be rude but… oh screw it, what in bloody hell are you doing here Darla? Thought you'd kicked it."
Shrugging, Darla swept the door closed and came over to sit on the couch by Spike. "I got over that particular issue. As for why I'm here, well," she paused to glare at Spike for always being so straight to the point, "I thought it would be nice to talk with someone who isn't insane."
A small smile cracked Spike's face at that even though he was angry with himself for being amused by her. Slowly, cautiously, he sat down on the far side of the couch from Darla, unsure at her seemingly nice motives. "Been spending a bit of time with Dru then have you, luv?"
Darla sneered in disgust, leaning back against the couch and glaring at someone completely other than Spike, someone who was hiding in her minds eye. "One more 'oh grandmummy make me tingle again' and there wouldn't have been a Dru anymore." Reluctantly she added, "Better than talking to Angel." She hissed out the name the way she would regard an offensive word. Damn right Angel offended her, just his very being.
A bark of laughter greeted her ears at that, "Been trying to get you to think about Peaches like that for well over a century, Darla." He didn't even have to wait for her comment, "Oh I know, its Angel, right? You're still head over heels with Angelus, never mind they're the same Pratt."
Noting the suddenly relaxed attitude that Spike was adopting with her, Darla couldn't help but tease him slightly at such an outlandish statement. "Have too many years with the loon turned your delusional fantasies into memory for you? You forget I was there, Spike, I seem to recall a time when you were 'head over heels' with Angelus also."
Spike pounced; tipping the couch backwards in the process as he pressed his full body weight against Darla, even though he'd known since he was a fledgling that manhandling Darla did no good to his cause and was likely as not to get him staked. "Oy, you take that back!"
Squirming slightly in the grasp that she was sure she could break - Spike never thought his plans though well when he was angry - Darla licked her lips and fixed her hand in his messy blonde hair, "Make me."
He recognized that look, recognized that voice, even though he had rarely been on the receiving end of it. This was not a Darla itching to skin him alive, she was going to boil his brains in an entirely different manor. Spike's shock lasted long enough for her grip on his hair to tighten and throw him off of her. "What the hell is with you," he grumbled from his spot now across the room.
Stretching luxuriously from her spot on the overturned couch and floor, Darla licked her lips again and watched in delight as Spike squirmed under her gaze. "You'll have to try harder than that," at his baffled look she sighed, her tone changing to one she had used on him many a time when he was still a fledgling and she still a master. "I told you, Spike, I'm not here to fight you."
Half reluctantly, Spike crawled over to the couch and rested his back against the seat of it, admitting that Darla had gone to an effort not to fight him, much more than she ever had in the past. "No more degrading comments about me and the Poofter then."
"Oh I can't promise that," Darla laughed heartily at the growl she received for her statement, "Of course, if we were to do something more… engaging… I couldn't really taunt you about that, now could I?"
Before Spike could even process her meaning completely, he found himself face to face with the vampiress, "Bloody hell, Darla," he caught wandering hands, "wait."
She eyed him suspiciously before laughing at his expression again. He wasn't turning her down, just horribly confused, and that she could work with. "Have you spent that long with mortals that you're all moralized? Just a bit of fun," she leaned in close and whispered against his ear, "between family."
Instantly, Spike's whole body reacted to her, as though a switch had been turned inside his head. The power of a vampire's family was something that couldn't be denied, through dust, blood, or sex. And he could use something to calm him, remind him what he was after everything that had happened with Buffy. He paused for a moment at that thought, wary about hurting his love's feelings. Then he remembered that she didn't care. "Fun that'll make you scream," he promised viciously.
All Darla heard after that proclamation was a sharp bark of laughter and she was flipped onto her back, Spike already busily working on her clothing with those talented hands of his. She heaved him over to roll on top, ripping off his tight black T-shirt with no more force than swatting a fly, "Not if I make you scream first."
\~~~/
Heady moans and growls reached a crescendo for perhaps the fourth time in as many hours and suddenly the crypt was still, the silence only broken by the occasional gasped pant. The occupants of the crypt had never made it away from the couch, which at some point they had turned back to it's proper position, and now lay against. Without a word the two vampires rose and strode in opposite directions.
Yawning and shaking her head to send sharp canines and yellowed eyes packing, Darla strode across the room to a chair where Spike's leather duster had been carelessly thrown sometime before her arrival. She slipped bare arms into the sleeves and donned the large coat gracefully before rifling in the pockets for the cigarettes and alcohol that she knew would be present.
For his part, Spike had gone to the fridge to grab some blood and warm it in mugs. Stifling his own surprisingly contented yawn, he waited almost patiently for the blood to heat, running his hands through his already extremely messy hair and wishing for a fag. His wish was answered however, as he turned around to find Darla lounging on the righted couch, two lit cigarettes in her lips and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand.
Grinning roguishly, Spike strode over to her and accepted the cigarette she offered him, setting down the half-filled mugs and puffing on his fag happily. After a moment he spotted his jeans, lying against the door, and went to collect them, pulling them on before returning to the couch and sitting down next to Darla who had added the alcohol to their blood in his absence.
Shifting position so that her head was resting against Spike's still bare shoulder, Darla alternated smoking and sipping her drink for a few moments. Snuggling down into his duster more, Darla cocked her head at Spike and fixed an unreadable expression on him, "I forgot how well we did this."
After a second had lapsed for Spike to determine if he could speak without sounding like a total idiot yet. He took another long drag off of the little stick of nicotine and shrugged, "Yeah, well, you were too busy with Peaches and I was with Dru to notice, I'd imagine."
Darla giggled slightly at the tone Spike was using, the one that clearly said he thought he was hell's gift to women. She let it pass though, in favor of sipping her blood and liquor, "I didn't mean the sex," she just barely righted herself as Spike pulled away from her, offended. "Oh hell, Spike, don't make me give you some sappy feel good speech. We both know the sex was way better than good." She rolled her eyes at him, "As I was saying, I meant this, the smoking and drinking, none of that emotional crap."
Settling back down so that Darla could again rest her blonde head against his pale chest, Spike had to admit she was right. He'd had enough emotional morning after's with Buffy to realize that he missed this. Meaningless sex, no denials, no overwhelming feelings, just exhausted companionship. "Well, as enjoyable as this all is, pet, I was thinking we could pick it up again after some sleep. All sunny and whatnot."
She grinned at the comment, but made no move to sleep, instead questioning him, "You're not all worn out are you, Spikey?"
"Whore," Spike growled irritably, fighting the urge to just give in and go to sleep because he would never live it down with Darla and he had had enough embarrassing moments in her presence, thank you very much.
Finishing off her cigarette Darla did not reach for another, since smoking had been something she'd only ever done around Spike, although the slight buzz was pleasant and different from the alcohol that was just strong enough to make her not mind the bagged blood. She shrugged, "Well, yeah," and suddenly depressed requested, "tell me what happened with you and Dru."
Having already finished two cigarettes and being well on his way to a third, Spike paused his chain smoking to take a great gulp and finish off his blood before saying anything. Admittedly he'd known he'd walked right into the first comment, and he supposed that the whole Dru issue didn't sting quite so badly anymore. "Right so," he began raggedly, "simple really. After Angelus came back and Dru had her daddy, she decided I wasn't demon enough for her. That was that." He left out the part about her dumping him for a chaos demon and his obsession with the slayer. Despite their truce, some material was too much for Darla not to tease him for.
But Darla had no mind to harass Spike about any of this, her attention focused on one crucial detail that perhaps Spike could offer an answer for, "What was he like? Was my boy the same?"
Shrugging, Spike took long drags on his latest fag and considered this even though he already knew the answer with every fiber of his being, "Not even bloody close. Wasn't our Angelus, just some imposter infatuated with the slayer and determined to end the world."
Biting her lip slightly, Darla thought about this, about the tone of Spike's voice, the fact that he'd called him Angelus and not some ridiculous nickname. Whether she liked it or not, at one point, before he'd gotten reckless and infuriating, Spike had been close to Angelus and she doubted he had any reason to lie to her now about what her boy had been like. "I've been around Angel and I could feel Angelus, hear him just behind the soul. My boy didn't feel different."
Again Spike shrugged, not overly fond of discussing the crazed version of his grandsire that had been loose several years before and wanting to put the topic to rest. "Yeah well, didn't have you around did he now."
He ran one hand through his hair nervously and slipped the other arm around her leather-clad form, obviously in an attempt to comfort her. Darla smiled at the gesture, but was far from reassured. Angelus may have been different without her but that didn't change the fact that she had failed again to release him. One go with some inexperienced teenager and pop, soul gone, but with her… nothing, "So was that when you started fucking the slayer?"
Jerked suddenly wide-awake, Spike set down his fag with fingers that were shaking ever so slightly, and not from the nicotine addiction. Darla's voice was deceptively calm, not a good thing, and… "Soddin' hell… how did you?"
Rolling her eyes at him, Darla reached down and lit another cigarette, just for the hell of it now that she was reasonably sure that her and Spike were done and all that was left now was conversation, insults, sleep, and to leave. She might as well deplete his stash. "Well Dru was rattling off something or other about her white night all tainted with the slayer. But, honestly, Spike, I could smell her the minute I walked in."
Before Spike could muster even half of a reply, the door was kicked open for the second time in under a day and the object of their conversation strode in. Arms flailing wildly and voice angry, "Spike, get up! I need some…"
Two messily blonde heads peaked over the back of the couch, two sets of blue eyes staring amazedly at the slayer. All three blondes were instantly wary, and it was Spike who made the first move. Removing himself from Darla's grasp and standing up, "Bloody hell, Slayer, get out of a bloke's crypt!"
Buffy sputtered for a moment, taking in the melted candles, messy room, and smell of cigarette smoke. There was no question what had happened here recently, but what had her even more on edge was that she knew exactly who that blonde woman was, couldn't have forgotten that face if she'd wanted to. She ignored Spike, ignored the hurt that was creeping up, "What the hell is going on here?!" She glared at the casual looking vampiress, "What happened to being dead."
Stretching unconcernedly, Darla stood up, holding Spike's duster tight around her body, and fixed the owner of said duster with a bored smile, "I got over it. William, will you get rid of it already, I want to take a nap."
Spike smirked slightly at Darla's mannerisms until he noticed Buffy clenching her stake and moving forwards. He stood up straighter and spoke in his coldest voice, no hint of the love he still felt towards the human blonde, "Darla will be gone by nightfall," when Buffy's expression didn't change in the slightest, Spike asked softly, "do you really want to take on both of us?"
Looking between both vampires, Buffy's eyes suddenly widened as though a whole new idea had occurred to her. Instead of answering Spike or even further acknowledging him or what she knew had gone on, Buffy whispered, alarmed, "Angel…" and turned and fled, as quickly as she'd come.
Sighing loudly, Spike went back to the fridge and pulled out another bottle of JD. Turning back to meet Darla's raised and questioning eyebrow, he asked, "What do you say we change nap to passing out drunkenly, luv."
Sinking back down to the couch and letting the too large duster fan out around her unconcernedly, Darla offered Spike a small smirk, "You better have a bunch of those in there." And instead of questioning each other about the obvious change in mood, or resorting to taunts, they lapsed into comfortable spurned silence, as Spike returned with several bottles of the hard liquor.
The End
Please e-mail the author of this story with your comments. goddess_delenn@yahoo.com
Author's Notes: Hey everyone! This is just a little Angel/BtVS story that up and occurred to me overnight (literally), I wonder why so many of them occur at night? Am I that vampire brainsoaked? Yes, I know that's not a word. So, anyway, I decided to write it! You should note, not a "pairing" I normally write, so this is a bit of an experiment for moi.
Spoilers: Just general fearsome four stuff. Also some for Epiphany, Reprise, and other episodes to do with Dru & Darla, in BtVS general episodes to deal with Buffy & Spike, and Spike & Dru
Story Notes: This is short, sweet, and hopefully finished. ;) I never can quite tell if I'll finish something or not. Takes place in BtVS while Buffy and Spike are "broken up" and in Angel before Heartthrob, assuming that Darla wasn't pregnant. Yes, I know that makes my timelines slightly off, but it's necessary, so if it bugs you that much I can assure you it won't be mentioned much and if it still bugs you, you probably shouldn't be reading this!
Pairings: Spike/Darla (D/A, D/Dru, S/Dru, S/Aus, S/B, A/B)
Summary: After failed relationships with Angel and Buffy, Darla and Spike respectively get together to drown their trials in drinks and the companionship of family.
Feedback: Yes! Feed the author, please! Critique/Comments/Enjoyment is greatly appreciated, honestly, just drop me a line! Goddess_Delenn@yahoo.com
Distribution: My site, BFW. Everyone else has to ask, all you have to do is click the above link and tell me you want it, I guarantee I'll say yes, you just have to ask first!
Songs For This Fiction: Currently, none.
Warnings: Sex/Language/Violence: yep/minor/mentioned.
Rating: R
Date Started/Finished: January 2nd, 2004
By ~Delenn~
When the door crashed open and he caught sight of a blonde head coming his way, Spike was expecting to meet with a violent, petite, blonde-haired woman. However, he wasn't prepared for it to be this violent, petite, blonde. "Hello there, pet."
She surveyed her new surroundings with obvious distaste, before casting her gaze to the sole other occupant of the dwelling, and flashing him a wickedly winning smile. "A crypt, could you get any more typical, William?"
Spike stood up straight, flicking off the TV before she could catch what was on it but not bothering to do anything about the scattered bottles of alcohol. If she didn't know about his drinking habits by now, he would start to doubt her sanity. "Not to be rude but… oh screw it, what in bloody hell are you doing here Darla? Thought you'd kicked it."
Shrugging, Darla swept the door closed and came over to sit on the couch by Spike. "I got over that particular issue. As for why I'm here, well," she paused to glare at Spike for always being so straight to the point, "I thought it would be nice to talk with someone who isn't insane."
A small smile cracked Spike's face at that even though he was angry with himself for being amused by her. Slowly, cautiously, he sat down on the far side of the couch from Darla, unsure at her seemingly nice motives. "Been spending a bit of time with Dru then have you, luv?"
Darla sneered in disgust, leaning back against the couch and glaring at someone completely other than Spike, someone who was hiding in her minds eye. "One more 'oh grandmummy make me tingle again' and there wouldn't have been a Dru anymore." Reluctantly she added, "Better than talking to Angel." She hissed out the name the way she would regard an offensive word. Damn right Angel offended her, just his very being.
A bark of laughter greeted her ears at that, "Been trying to get you to think about Peaches like that for well over a century, Darla." He didn't even have to wait for her comment, "Oh I know, its Angel, right? You're still head over heels with Angelus, never mind they're the same Pratt."
Noting the suddenly relaxed attitude that Spike was adopting with her, Darla couldn't help but tease him slightly at such an outlandish statement. "Have too many years with the loon turned your delusional fantasies into memory for you? You forget I was there, Spike, I seem to recall a time when you were 'head over heels' with Angelus also."
Spike pounced; tipping the couch backwards in the process as he pressed his full body weight against Darla, even though he'd known since he was a fledgling that manhandling Darla did no good to his cause and was likely as not to get him staked. "Oy, you take that back!"
Squirming slightly in the grasp that she was sure she could break - Spike never thought his plans though well when he was angry - Darla licked her lips and fixed her hand in his messy blonde hair, "Make me."
He recognized that look, recognized that voice, even though he had rarely been on the receiving end of it. This was not a Darla itching to skin him alive, she was going to boil his brains in an entirely different manor. Spike's shock lasted long enough for her grip on his hair to tighten and throw him off of her. "What the hell is with you," he grumbled from his spot now across the room.
Stretching luxuriously from her spot on the overturned couch and floor, Darla licked her lips again and watched in delight as Spike squirmed under her gaze. "You'll have to try harder than that," at his baffled look she sighed, her tone changing to one she had used on him many a time when he was still a fledgling and she still a master. "I told you, Spike, I'm not here to fight you."
Half reluctantly, Spike crawled over to the couch and rested his back against the seat of it, admitting that Darla had gone to an effort not to fight him, much more than she ever had in the past. "No more degrading comments about me and the Poofter then."
"Oh I can't promise that," Darla laughed heartily at the growl she received for her statement, "Of course, if we were to do something more… engaging… I couldn't really taunt you about that, now could I?"
Before Spike could even process her meaning completely, he found himself face to face with the vampiress, "Bloody hell, Darla," he caught wandering hands, "wait."
She eyed him suspiciously before laughing at his expression again. He wasn't turning her down, just horribly confused, and that she could work with. "Have you spent that long with mortals that you're all moralized? Just a bit of fun," she leaned in close and whispered against his ear, "between family."
Instantly, Spike's whole body reacted to her, as though a switch had been turned inside his head. The power of a vampire's family was something that couldn't be denied, through dust, blood, or sex. And he could use something to calm him, remind him what he was after everything that had happened with Buffy. He paused for a moment at that thought, wary about hurting his love's feelings. Then he remembered that she didn't care. "Fun that'll make you scream," he promised viciously.
All Darla heard after that proclamation was a sharp bark of laughter and she was flipped onto her back, Spike already busily working on her clothing with those talented hands of his. She heaved him over to roll on top, ripping off his tight black T-shirt with no more force than swatting a fly, "Not if I make you scream first."
Heady moans and growls reached a crescendo for perhaps the fourth time in as many hours and suddenly the crypt was still, the silence only broken by the occasional gasped pant. The occupants of the crypt had never made it away from the couch, which at some point they had turned back to it's proper position, and now lay against. Without a word the two vampires rose and strode in opposite directions.
Yawning and shaking her head to send sharp canines and yellowed eyes packing, Darla strode across the room to a chair where Spike's leather duster had been carelessly thrown sometime before her arrival. She slipped bare arms into the sleeves and donned the large coat gracefully before rifling in the pockets for the cigarettes and alcohol that she knew would be present.
For his part, Spike had gone to the fridge to grab some blood and warm it in mugs. Stifling his own surprisingly contented yawn, he waited almost patiently for the blood to heat, running his hands through his already extremely messy hair and wishing for a fag. His wish was answered however, as he turned around to find Darla lounging on the righted couch, two lit cigarettes in her lips and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in her hand.
Grinning roguishly, Spike strode over to her and accepted the cigarette she offered him, setting down the half-filled mugs and puffing on his fag happily. After a moment he spotted his jeans, lying against the door, and went to collect them, pulling them on before returning to the couch and sitting down next to Darla who had added the alcohol to their blood in his absence.
Shifting position so that her head was resting against Spike's still bare shoulder, Darla alternated smoking and sipping her drink for a few moments. Snuggling down into his duster more, Darla cocked her head at Spike and fixed an unreadable expression on him, "I forgot how well we did this."
After a second had lapsed for Spike to determine if he could speak without sounding like a total idiot yet. He took another long drag off of the little stick of nicotine and shrugged, "Yeah, well, you were too busy with Peaches and I was with Dru to notice, I'd imagine."
Darla giggled slightly at the tone Spike was using, the one that clearly said he thought he was hell's gift to women. She let it pass though, in favor of sipping her blood and liquor, "I didn't mean the sex," she just barely righted herself as Spike pulled away from her, offended. "Oh hell, Spike, don't make me give you some sappy feel good speech. We both know the sex was way better than good." She rolled her eyes at him, "As I was saying, I meant this, the smoking and drinking, none of that emotional crap."
Settling back down so that Darla could again rest her blonde head against his pale chest, Spike had to admit she was right. He'd had enough emotional morning after's with Buffy to realize that he missed this. Meaningless sex, no denials, no overwhelming feelings, just exhausted companionship. "Well, as enjoyable as this all is, pet, I was thinking we could pick it up again after some sleep. All sunny and whatnot."
She grinned at the comment, but made no move to sleep, instead questioning him, "You're not all worn out are you, Spikey?"
"Whore," Spike growled irritably, fighting the urge to just give in and go to sleep because he would never live it down with Darla and he had had enough embarrassing moments in her presence, thank you very much.
Finishing off her cigarette Darla did not reach for another, since smoking had been something she'd only ever done around Spike, although the slight buzz was pleasant and different from the alcohol that was just strong enough to make her not mind the bagged blood. She shrugged, "Well, yeah," and suddenly depressed requested, "tell me what happened with you and Dru."
Having already finished two cigarettes and being well on his way to a third, Spike paused his chain smoking to take a great gulp and finish off his blood before saying anything. Admittedly he'd known he'd walked right into the first comment, and he supposed that the whole Dru issue didn't sting quite so badly anymore. "Right so," he began raggedly, "simple really. After Angelus came back and Dru had her daddy, she decided I wasn't demon enough for her. That was that." He left out the part about her dumping him for a chaos demon and his obsession with the slayer. Despite their truce, some material was too much for Darla not to tease him for.
But Darla had no mind to harass Spike about any of this, her attention focused on one crucial detail that perhaps Spike could offer an answer for, "What was he like? Was my boy the same?"
Shrugging, Spike took long drags on his latest fag and considered this even though he already knew the answer with every fiber of his being, "Not even bloody close. Wasn't our Angelus, just some imposter infatuated with the slayer and determined to end the world."
Biting her lip slightly, Darla thought about this, about the tone of Spike's voice, the fact that he'd called him Angelus and not some ridiculous nickname. Whether she liked it or not, at one point, before he'd gotten reckless and infuriating, Spike had been close to Angelus and she doubted he had any reason to lie to her now about what her boy had been like. "I've been around Angel and I could feel Angelus, hear him just behind the soul. My boy didn't feel different."
Again Spike shrugged, not overly fond of discussing the crazed version of his grandsire that had been loose several years before and wanting to put the topic to rest. "Yeah well, didn't have you around did he now."
He ran one hand through his hair nervously and slipped the other arm around her leather-clad form, obviously in an attempt to comfort her. Darla smiled at the gesture, but was far from reassured. Angelus may have been different without her but that didn't change the fact that she had failed again to release him. One go with some inexperienced teenager and pop, soul gone, but with her… nothing, "So was that when you started fucking the slayer?"
Jerked suddenly wide-awake, Spike set down his fag with fingers that were shaking ever so slightly, and not from the nicotine addiction. Darla's voice was deceptively calm, not a good thing, and… "Soddin' hell… how did you?"
Rolling her eyes at him, Darla reached down and lit another cigarette, just for the hell of it now that she was reasonably sure that her and Spike were done and all that was left now was conversation, insults, sleep, and to leave. She might as well deplete his stash. "Well Dru was rattling off something or other about her white night all tainted with the slayer. But, honestly, Spike, I could smell her the minute I walked in."
Before Spike could muster even half of a reply, the door was kicked open for the second time in under a day and the object of their conversation strode in. Arms flailing wildly and voice angry, "Spike, get up! I need some…"
Two messily blonde heads peaked over the back of the couch, two sets of blue eyes staring amazedly at the slayer. All three blondes were instantly wary, and it was Spike who made the first move. Removing himself from Darla's grasp and standing up, "Bloody hell, Slayer, get out of a bloke's crypt!"
Buffy sputtered for a moment, taking in the melted candles, messy room, and smell of cigarette smoke. There was no question what had happened here recently, but what had her even more on edge was that she knew exactly who that blonde woman was, couldn't have forgotten that face if she'd wanted to. She ignored Spike, ignored the hurt that was creeping up, "What the hell is going on here?!" She glared at the casual looking vampiress, "What happened to being dead."
Stretching unconcernedly, Darla stood up, holding Spike's duster tight around her body, and fixed the owner of said duster with a bored smile, "I got over it. William, will you get rid of it already, I want to take a nap."
Spike smirked slightly at Darla's mannerisms until he noticed Buffy clenching her stake and moving forwards. He stood up straighter and spoke in his coldest voice, no hint of the love he still felt towards the human blonde, "Darla will be gone by nightfall," when Buffy's expression didn't change in the slightest, Spike asked softly, "do you really want to take on both of us?"
Looking between both vampires, Buffy's eyes suddenly widened as though a whole new idea had occurred to her. Instead of answering Spike or even further acknowledging him or what she knew had gone on, Buffy whispered, alarmed, "Angel…" and turned and fled, as quickly as she'd come.
Sighing loudly, Spike went back to the fridge and pulled out another bottle of JD. Turning back to meet Darla's raised and questioning eyebrow, he asked, "What do you say we change nap to passing out drunkenly, luv."
Sinking back down to the couch and letting the too large duster fan out around her unconcernedly, Darla offered Spike a small smirk, "You better have a bunch of those in there." And instead of questioning each other about the obvious change in mood, or resorting to taunts, they lapsed into comfortable spurned silence, as Spike returned with several bottles of the hard liquor.
Please e-mail the author of this story with your comments. goddess_delenn@yahoo.com