Timeframe: Takes place early season 5 AU; the Adam thing never happened.
There's no Dawn, no Glory, and Joyce's brain isn't liquifying due to
tumors. Oh, and the Initiative never disbanded. Yeehaw!
Rating: R
Pairing: S/B
Feedback: It's my life's blood.
Author's Note: Just a head's up to my past readers and the newbies out there, as well as a short summary of what 'London Bridges' is all about. All right, to those that had read my previous story, 'Musical Chairs', I have finally written the long awaited (short awaited? kinda awaited? long forgotten?) sequel that I promised I would do, as I left off on a bit of a cliffhanger. I just began working on it today, and am trying to write as fast as I can (minus school time and all that jazz). Anyway, I have actually plotted the thing this time, as opposed to my usual: "Hey, let's see, what the hell should I do next?" way of stratigizing that I have, and there's more Spuffy fluffies to come, although probably a little less fluff than last time around. This story features longer sections on Spike and his feelings, and a few flashbacks on his past (I don't know how many there will be or anything, just that they're going to be in there). To newbies: The reading of 'Musical Chairs' isn't really neccessary to enjoy and understand this story, but I'd recommend it so you can get a good amount of background info to work on. Basically, S/B are a couple, Spike is chipped, and Angelus and Dru are in town, somewhere, lurking. Read on and, if you want a summary as opposed to actually reading all 27 chappies, just drop me a line and I'll make sure to include it in the next author's note. Hope you enjoy.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Ow!"
The force of the kick sent Buffy flying backwards, slamming her directly into a massive oak tree.
"I'm getting too old for this," she moaned, flipping on her feet in one fluid movement. Hands curled into fists and held in front of her face defensively, she circled her opponent, glaring at him, anticipating his next move. After about thirty seconds of waiting, the frustrated Slayer put her hands on her hips, looking very annoyed. "Are you going to attack, or what? I mean, I know you have the whole 'undead non-aging' thing going on, but some of us still wrinkle."
The vampire lowered his fists, exasperated. "I was *planning* on it, Slayer, but it takes strategizing."
Picking at her fingernails, she sighed. "Strategizing blategizing. It's late, I'm tired, just rush me already."
As fast as lightning he was upon her, baring his fangs at her tender throat. Just as fast, however, she had flipped him to the ground, straddling him and pressing a stake to his chest.
"Can't believe I fell for that daft 'tired' excuse," he groaned, frustrated at his own stupidity. Buffy lowered the stake to her side, grinning.
"You'd be amazed how many times that's worked. Well, come to think of it, you probably wouldn't. Knowing the quality of vampires out there . . ." she mused.
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "Seems like intelligence isn't really a factor in who you choose to turn nowadays."
"That explains it," she exclaimed, "I always wondered why anyone could end up making *you*. Low standards and all . . . it makes sense."
"Might explain why I'm so taken with you," he said teasingly.
"So it has nothing to do with my stunning good looks and witty charm?" Buffy joked.
"Err, luv? I think your charm is cutting off my circulation," he said, wiggling his legs underneath her.
"Circulation? You don't have any blood flow," she scoffed, getting to her feet. Lowering a hand down, she shivered at the feel of Spike's cold palm next to hers. She watched, amused, as he stood up and hopped back and forth gingerly, as if testing his sealegs.
"Think you broke something," the vampire said, shifting his weight back and forth.
"Not yet," Buffy warned jokingly, before taking hold of his hand, entwining their fingers. "Thanks for training with me," she said, gazing up at him, "I really appreciate it. Sorry about the bad location, cemetery and all, but . . ." she trailed off, her voice tinged with guilt.
"No need apologizing, luv," he said, "Doesn't bother me. Vampire, remember? I practically live - well, come to think of it, I *do* live here. Right over there, in fact," Spike pointed out a crypt a few blocks away.
"It's not that," she said apologetically, "It's the . . . the me not telling anyone thing. About us. It's just that, I don't think that it's the right time, and we've only been together for a few weeks, and I really want everything to go perfectly and . . . you know what I mean?" Buffy finished, breathless from her long, rambling explanation.
He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I know. You've nothing to worry about, pet. Telling your mates that your new honey is, well, *me* is gonna take a lot of guts. And your watcher . . ."
Buffy snorted. "Giles. Can you just see the look on his face? The glasses cleaning involved?"
"The scotch?" Spike interrupted. "If he turns to drink, you know who's fault it's gonna be, right?"
"Yours," she said, "for making me fall for you and turning my life into an even bigger weird-fest . It's not fair."
"Not my fault that you're a necrophiliac and I just happen to be the only dead bloke you know," he explained.
"That's not -"
"Let's look at your past relationships, shall we?" Spike said, reaching into his duster and pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, "One person. One very dead person: Angel."
Buffy frowned, thinking. "Not *just* him. There was . . . the guy. From my old high school in L.A. James . . . Something. Smith? It might have been Smith."
"Admit it Slayer, Peaches was the only real 'man' in your life, aside from demons and such, and he off and left. Then I come along, all undead and manly just like you like them . . . it was the only reasonable choice. I suppose you had Rupert," he pondered, "but I don't really see the two of you as a couple. Probably'd have a heart attack when you were -"
"What about Xander," she interrupted before Spike could finish, "You forgot about him. We've been friends for about . . . ever."
"Like I said," he continued, flicking his chrome-plated lighter, "only one real 'man'."
She nudged the vampire in the side, giggling. "That's not nice."
"C'mon, Buffy, you saw what he was wearing the other day. Fruity little Hawaiin number," Spike explained, taking a long draw from his cigarette, "You're telling me that anyone with an *ounce* of testosterone would be caught dead in that? I'm dead and I sure as hell wouldn't. He looked like some kind of . . . tropical Liberace."
Snorting in laughter, Buffy pulled him out of the street and behind a tree, pushing him low to the ground and out of sight.
"Right here, Slayer?" Spike asked teasingly, "Doesn't seem like the most private shagging grounds, but I'm up for it if you are."
"Ssh!" she shushed, clamping her warm hand over his clammy lips, cutting him off. Inhaling sharply, she waited silent for a few moments, then pulled him to his feet with her. "I don't think they saw us," she said, relieved.
"Who, the vampire police?" Spike asked sarcastically.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, Will -"
On his disbelieving look, she stopped herself. "I know it's not the vampire police, I just . . . it was Willow and Xander. They were heading towards the cemetery."
"At night? Alone? They're not only asking for violent death, they're seeking it out."
"They might have been looking for me," Buffy said, "I should probably go back and meet them there." She glanced over at Spike apologetically. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you, it's just that it would look suspicious if I wasn't over there kicking undead ass. Chosen and all."
"Yeah . . ." he trailed off, a worried look on his face, "Just be careful, pet. Don't want you breaking your leg again; last time with Dru it took nearly two weeks to heal."
"Okay, Mom," Buffy's voice was filled with sarcasm but her eyes were tender, "I won't talk to strangers or cross the street by myself."
"Don't mean to be a Giles, luv, I just . . . don't want to lose you."
She smiled, getting on her tiptoes and kissing him gently. "You've got me, Spike. If I promise that I won't die tonight, will it make you feel better?"
He tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with one scuffed boot. "Come home alive, alright? Don't fancy the idea of you losing a limb or two, but any of you is better than . . . the alternative."
"And on that cheery note, I've gotta run." Buffy gave him one last peck on the cheek before running towards the cemetery.
Spike pressed his fingers against his face, smiling. 'I've got her . . .'
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Isn't that just precious?" Angelus drawled, a slight smile on his face, "The Slayer and the vampire, together again. How sweet."
"As sweet as the snakes wriggling my hair," Drusilla said, her teary eyes narrowing, "My knight has faced the light but shall be turned to ash if he drinks from the pond."
Angelus rolled his eyes, exasperated. He knew he shouldn't have brought her along, she was too emotional. And crazy. "It would be a shame for someone to break up the happy couple. A tragedy worthy of Shakespeare."
She smiled wickedly, clapping her hands together in delight. "Can we, Daddy? Can we take the sinful whore and spoil her Sunday cakes?"
He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes again. "That was the plan, Dru," he said, his frustration obvious. Honestly, he didn't understand why she couldn't wait for their plan; it was only a few weeks away. Women.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
TBC . . .
A/N: If you want to see more, just review and I'll write it.
Rating: R
Pairing: S/B
Feedback: It's my life's blood.
Author's Note: Just a head's up to my past readers and the newbies out there, as well as a short summary of what 'London Bridges' is all about. All right, to those that had read my previous story, 'Musical Chairs', I have finally written the long awaited (short awaited? kinda awaited? long forgotten?) sequel that I promised I would do, as I left off on a bit of a cliffhanger. I just began working on it today, and am trying to write as fast as I can (minus school time and all that jazz). Anyway, I have actually plotted the thing this time, as opposed to my usual: "Hey, let's see, what the hell should I do next?" way of stratigizing that I have, and there's more Spuffy fluffies to come, although probably a little less fluff than last time around. This story features longer sections on Spike and his feelings, and a few flashbacks on his past (I don't know how many there will be or anything, just that they're going to be in there). To newbies: The reading of 'Musical Chairs' isn't really neccessary to enjoy and understand this story, but I'd recommend it so you can get a good amount of background info to work on. Basically, S/B are a couple, Spike is chipped, and Angelus and Dru are in town, somewhere, lurking. Read on and, if you want a summary as opposed to actually reading all 27 chappies, just drop me a line and I'll make sure to include it in the next author's note. Hope you enjoy.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Ow!"
The force of the kick sent Buffy flying backwards, slamming her directly into a massive oak tree.
"I'm getting too old for this," she moaned, flipping on her feet in one fluid movement. Hands curled into fists and held in front of her face defensively, she circled her opponent, glaring at him, anticipating his next move. After about thirty seconds of waiting, the frustrated Slayer put her hands on her hips, looking very annoyed. "Are you going to attack, or what? I mean, I know you have the whole 'undead non-aging' thing going on, but some of us still wrinkle."
The vampire lowered his fists, exasperated. "I was *planning* on it, Slayer, but it takes strategizing."
Picking at her fingernails, she sighed. "Strategizing blategizing. It's late, I'm tired, just rush me already."
As fast as lightning he was upon her, baring his fangs at her tender throat. Just as fast, however, she had flipped him to the ground, straddling him and pressing a stake to his chest.
"Can't believe I fell for that daft 'tired' excuse," he groaned, frustrated at his own stupidity. Buffy lowered the stake to her side, grinning.
"You'd be amazed how many times that's worked. Well, come to think of it, you probably wouldn't. Knowing the quality of vampires out there . . ." she mused.
"Yeah," Spike agreed, "Seems like intelligence isn't really a factor in who you choose to turn nowadays."
"That explains it," she exclaimed, "I always wondered why anyone could end up making *you*. Low standards and all . . . it makes sense."
"Might explain why I'm so taken with you," he said teasingly.
"So it has nothing to do with my stunning good looks and witty charm?" Buffy joked.
"Err, luv? I think your charm is cutting off my circulation," he said, wiggling his legs underneath her.
"Circulation? You don't have any blood flow," she scoffed, getting to her feet. Lowering a hand down, she shivered at the feel of Spike's cold palm next to hers. She watched, amused, as he stood up and hopped back and forth gingerly, as if testing his sealegs.
"Think you broke something," the vampire said, shifting his weight back and forth.
"Not yet," Buffy warned jokingly, before taking hold of his hand, entwining their fingers. "Thanks for training with me," she said, gazing up at him, "I really appreciate it. Sorry about the bad location, cemetery and all, but . . ." she trailed off, her voice tinged with guilt.
"No need apologizing, luv," he said, "Doesn't bother me. Vampire, remember? I practically live - well, come to think of it, I *do* live here. Right over there, in fact," Spike pointed out a crypt a few blocks away.
"It's not that," she said apologetically, "It's the . . . the me not telling anyone thing. About us. It's just that, I don't think that it's the right time, and we've only been together for a few weeks, and I really want everything to go perfectly and . . . you know what I mean?" Buffy finished, breathless from her long, rambling explanation.
He chuckled softly. "Yeah, I know. You've nothing to worry about, pet. Telling your mates that your new honey is, well, *me* is gonna take a lot of guts. And your watcher . . ."
Buffy snorted. "Giles. Can you just see the look on his face? The glasses cleaning involved?"
"The scotch?" Spike interrupted. "If he turns to drink, you know who's fault it's gonna be, right?"
"Yours," she said, "for making me fall for you and turning my life into an even bigger weird-fest . It's not fair."
"Not my fault that you're a necrophiliac and I just happen to be the only dead bloke you know," he explained.
"That's not -"
"Let's look at your past relationships, shall we?" Spike said, reaching into his duster and pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, "One person. One very dead person: Angel."
Buffy frowned, thinking. "Not *just* him. There was . . . the guy. From my old high school in L.A. James . . . Something. Smith? It might have been Smith."
"Admit it Slayer, Peaches was the only real 'man' in your life, aside from demons and such, and he off and left. Then I come along, all undead and manly just like you like them . . . it was the only reasonable choice. I suppose you had Rupert," he pondered, "but I don't really see the two of you as a couple. Probably'd have a heart attack when you were -"
"What about Xander," she interrupted before Spike could finish, "You forgot about him. We've been friends for about . . . ever."
"Like I said," he continued, flicking his chrome-plated lighter, "only one real 'man'."
She nudged the vampire in the side, giggling. "That's not nice."
"C'mon, Buffy, you saw what he was wearing the other day. Fruity little Hawaiin number," Spike explained, taking a long draw from his cigarette, "You're telling me that anyone with an *ounce* of testosterone would be caught dead in that? I'm dead and I sure as hell wouldn't. He looked like some kind of . . . tropical Liberace."
Snorting in laughter, Buffy pulled him out of the street and behind a tree, pushing him low to the ground and out of sight.
"Right here, Slayer?" Spike asked teasingly, "Doesn't seem like the most private shagging grounds, but I'm up for it if you are."
"Ssh!" she shushed, clamping her warm hand over his clammy lips, cutting him off. Inhaling sharply, she waited silent for a few moments, then pulled him to his feet with her. "I don't think they saw us," she said, relieved.
"Who, the vampire police?" Spike asked sarcastically.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, Will -"
On his disbelieving look, she stopped herself. "I know it's not the vampire police, I just . . . it was Willow and Xander. They were heading towards the cemetery."
"At night? Alone? They're not only asking for violent death, they're seeking it out."
"They might have been looking for me," Buffy said, "I should probably go back and meet them there." She glanced over at Spike apologetically. "It's not that I don't want to spend time with you, it's just that it would look suspicious if I wasn't over there kicking undead ass. Chosen and all."
"Yeah . . ." he trailed off, a worried look on his face, "Just be careful, pet. Don't want you breaking your leg again; last time with Dru it took nearly two weeks to heal."
"Okay, Mom," Buffy's voice was filled with sarcasm but her eyes were tender, "I won't talk to strangers or cross the street by myself."
"Don't mean to be a Giles, luv, I just . . . don't want to lose you."
She smiled, getting on her tiptoes and kissing him gently. "You've got me, Spike. If I promise that I won't die tonight, will it make you feel better?"
He tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with one scuffed boot. "Come home alive, alright? Don't fancy the idea of you losing a limb or two, but any of you is better than . . . the alternative."
"And on that cheery note, I've gotta run." Buffy gave him one last peck on the cheek before running towards the cemetery.
Spike pressed his fingers against his face, smiling. 'I've got her . . .'
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Isn't that just precious?" Angelus drawled, a slight smile on his face, "The Slayer and the vampire, together again. How sweet."
"As sweet as the snakes wriggling my hair," Drusilla said, her teary eyes narrowing, "My knight has faced the light but shall be turned to ash if he drinks from the pond."
Angelus rolled his eyes, exasperated. He knew he shouldn't have brought her along, she was too emotional. And crazy. "It would be a shame for someone to break up the happy couple. A tragedy worthy of Shakespeare."
She smiled wickedly, clapping her hands together in delight. "Can we, Daddy? Can we take the sinful whore and spoil her Sunday cakes?"
He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes again. "That was the plan, Dru," he said, his frustration obvious. Honestly, he didn't understand why she couldn't wait for their plan; it was only a few weeks away. Women.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
TBC . . .
A/N: If you want to see more, just review and I'll write it.
