SpikePuppet

The version of this story being published on fanfiction.net is PG. The copy here is the higher-rated one.

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A couple of hours later, they were all aboard the Wolfram & Hart jet on their way back to Los Angeles. Angel had informed them that because of the superior speed of the jet, the trip should only take a few hours.

Within several minutes of getting on the plane, Spike was already bored and Dawn was also looking around for amusement. Angel noticed their distraction.

"You can go watch movies in the other compartment if you want," he suggested, gesturing to the area to the front. "There seems to be a pretty good selection of DVDs in there."

"Not yet," Buffy objected. "First I want to know how we change Spike back to normal."

"I'm not sure," Angel admitted. "I mean, I think he should have started transforming on his own already and just gradually returned to normal the way I did."

Dawn stared at Angel and giggled.

He looked at her blankly. "What did I say?"

"Nothing, really," said Dawn, trying to rein in her laughter. "It's just that I'm picturing what you must have looked like when you were a puppet."

"He was all forehead and scowl," Spike happily volunteered. "Kind of like how he looks now." He nodded at Angel, who was indeed scowling over this description of his puppet form.

Dawn laughed even harder; Angel's scowl deepened, and he retaliated. "Being turned into a puppet isn't flattering to anyone, Spike. You're proof of that."

Before Spike could defend himself, Dawn stepped in for him. "Spike makes a really cute puppet. Every time I look at him, I want to give him a hug."

Angel's lips twitched. Spike went on the attack. "When I was telling you girls stories before about the wee puppet Angel, I forgot the one about how a werewolf took a special liking to him. And how he watched 'Teletubbies' and 'Barney' for three days instead of doing his supposedly important job. Not to mention the breakfast--"

"Spike!" Buffy clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Dawn, who was in hysterics, and Angel, who was scowling again. "Everyone, stop it. On second thought, a movie seems like a great idea right about now. Dawn, go pick something out and watch it. Spike, come with me. We need to talk."

Since Buffy had a good hold of his arm and looked perfectly prepared to drag him, Spike decided it was best if he went quietly. He trailed Buffy to a compartment near the rear of the plane and watched as she closed the door to give them some privacy. "So, what do you want to talk about?" he asked, hoping Buffy hadn't come up with yet another reason to be mad at him.

She collapsed into the nearest seat. "I just wanted to get out of the other room. Do you and Angel always snipe at each other like that, or do I just bring out the worst in you two? Don't bother to answer that--I don't think I really want to know. I can't wait till we get you fixed and I have one less problem to worry about."

Spike's heart sank. It couldn't have been more obvious; Buffy was just coming back to Los Angeles because she felt guilty for letting him die on the Hellmouth last year. Even though he hadn't stayed dead. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up. Buffy only wanted to make sure he was de-puppetized; that was all. Disgusted with himself, he looked away. "You didn't need to come. I don't need you feeling sorry for me."

"Wait a minute." Buffy's voice rose. "Yhinkhink I'm here out of pity?"

"Well, aren't you?" Spike snapped.

Buffy sighed. "Spike, you really are stupid. Why do you think I'm on this plane right now? I could have just let Angel take you, and not bothered, you dumb--vampire. Puppet. Whatever. I mean, I have a job back in Rome, and I was making friends, plus Dawn has school. Our lives were even almost normal, till you showed up. Staying there would have been easy, and convenient, and comfortable. But instead, I'm on an evil law firm's jet flying halfway around the world to try to get one of my exes turned from a puppet back into a vampire. I didn't ask for anything this bizarre to happen to me today. The fact that I'm sitting here at this exact moment would tell you something, if you stopped and thought for a second."

Spike wasn't about to get his hopes up yet again. He remained silent and waited for Buffy to finish her speech.

Not getting a reaction out of him, she went on. "I love you, Spike. I tried to tell you that on the Hellmouth and you wouldn't believe me and there wasn't any time to make you, but now there is."

Spike couldn't take anymore. "You didn't love me when I didn't have a soul and then you didn't love me when I got one, and now you're claiming you do just because you're happy I'm alive. You don't need to keep lying to me."

Buffy looked him in the eye. "You still don't believe me? Fine. I'll prove I love you like you are right now--puppet body and all. If I can't convince you, then I promise I'll never say another word about it. Deal?"

Cautiously, Spike nodded. He couldn't help feeling incredibly curious about how Buffy intended to provide this proof. Besides, he didn't think she'd let him out of the room in one piece if he didn't agree to her terms.

"Come here." Buffy beckoned him closer.

Three big puppet steps and Spike was standing in front of her. Even seated, Buffy was taller than he was. She looked down upon him. "How are we going to do this? I guess you'll have to sit on my lap."

"What?" Spike yelped as Buffy grabbed him and pulled him upward.

Once Spike was seated on, yes, Buffy's lap, she tentatively touched his arm. "This isn't so bad. It's almost like old times, right?"

Since he found that he couldn't agree, Spike simply didn't say anything. He felt like he might fall off of Buffy's lap at any second. Plus, he wasn't quite sure what she wanted him to do, so he settled for merely maintaining his balance.

Her hand slowly stroked up his arm, which felt pretty good, and moved over to his face. His soft, smooshy, felt face. Spike caught the slight grimace Buffy valiantly tried to hide, and saw the way her spine stiffened a moment before her lips descended upon his. Except that as a puppet, he didn't exactly have lips anymore. Buffy scrabbled for purchase against his mouth before suctioning on.

Spike was extremely disappointed to find that he wasn't really getting anything out of the kiss. Buffy's lips felt so hard, nowhere near the softness of his own mouth. Surely they hadn't always been so firm. He didn't know how he'd ever been able to stand it in the past. It was damp, too, and he could feel her teeth pressing into him. Even when Buffy changed angles, the experience remained frustratingly unmoving. Nevertheless, Spike waited it out. He was giving Buffy every possible chance.

When she finally withdrew, he couldn't have been more relieved. Buffy looked like she shared this emotion, since she shook her head and spat out a bit of lint before speaking again. "Well, that wasn't quite what I expected. But then, you *are* a puppet now. Have to keep that in mind." She eyed Spike again. He found that he didn't like the expression on her face. It was too calculating. "Okay, I think kissing is out. It's like making out with Mr. Gordo. Not that I ever did make out with Mr. Gordo, of course, because, stuffed pig and all, bu I e I ever *had*, I think I know now what it would have been like."

Spike nodded and moved to slide off of Buffy's lap. She grabbed hold of him and stopped him.

"Where do you think you're going? I still have to convince you." Buffy's eyes lit up. "And I know how!" Her hands moved to the zipper on Spike's pants.

"Buffy, what--?" Spike began.

"If you ask what I'm doing, I'm going to be very disappointed in you," Buffy warned as she proceeded to undress Spike. "I know we can't actually *have* sex right now, since that would be strange and icky and probably impossible. But your other parts still work about the same as usual, right? So this shouldn't be any exception. There. All... done." Buffy faltered on the last word, eyes fixed on Spike's exposed lower half.

"What?" Spike looked, too. Then, along with Buffy, he stared, horrified. It was the first really good look he'd gotten at that area of his puppety body, and now that he saw it, he wished he hadn't.

Buffy recovered first. "It's so, well, small. Maybe it shrank when Dawn sent you through the washing machine?"

"Hey!" Spike protested. True, his cock currently resembled a miniature sausage in terms of size, but Buffy didn't have to *say* it, did she?

"Sorry," Buffy immediately apologized as she studied him from head to foot. "Well, I guess it isn't so bad. I mean, I suppose it's to scale."

Spike covered his face with his hands. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, they did.

"It's all right," Buffy assured him. "I don't mind. And you'll be back to normal in no time. Meanwhile, I still have to prove that I love you." She reached for him.

Spike peeked out from between his fingers. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No. I *do* want. I really do." And with those words, Buffy grasped Spike's penis and began to stroke it.

Spike found that he couldn't not watch the effect her touch had on him. Yes, his cock was definitely responding, swelling as the rhythmic motions continued. It wasn't miniature any longer. It might actually be approaching "small." And then the inevitable question entered Spike's mind: What was it filling with? Sawdust? Cotton? Possibly even styrofoam? He began to wilt at the very thought.

"Come on," Buffy urged, her face set in a determined expression. She stroked him faster and more firmly, and more firmly still, until...

"Stop!" Spike shouted, feeling something very wrong indeed.

"Not yet," Buffy countered, continuing despite the warning.

Then, accompanied by a terrible ripping noise, it happened.

Buffy froze; Spike stared, transfixed. He'd never been more embarrassed. Not only was his penis miniscule, but it had just come off in Buffy's hand.

"It really *is* detachable like Dawn thought," she said in wonder. And then, hit by realization, she looked at Spike. "Oh, my God. I am so sorry! Here." Before he could stop her, she tried to shove his penis back into position.

"Ouch!" Spike yelled.

"What?" Buffy jumped and, naturally, the way Spike's luck had been going lately, dropped his organ. "Did I hurt you?"

Spike snatched the precious object off of her lap. He supposed he should consider himself fortunate that it hadn't fallen on the floor and been stepped on. "How would *you* feel if someone yanked off your cock and then tried to jam it back on?"

Buffy's face turned bright red. Spike ignored her as he gingerly attempted to reattach the loose part. It had been stuck to him with velcro, it turned out. He had to twist it the right way and get it to hold. Only which way was correct? He could only guess at the angle. Then, with a little more pressure, he felt it lock into place. He looked down. He wasn't even sure if the damn thing was turned the right way. What if it was upside down, and it stayed that way when he was transformed back to his usual state? How would he explain what had happened? How would it be fixed? *Could* it be fixed? With a low growl, Spike hopped off of Buffy's lap and looked accusingly at her.

"Spike, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to damage you. You know that. It was an accident. I..." Buffy's voice trailed off. "I'm just sorry, all right?" She jumped up and ran out of the room.

Spike stared after her, already feeling guilty. He had to admit, it had taken guts for Buffy to even attempt to fondle a puppet and she had definitely proven either that her guilt ran incredibly deep or she truly did love him. Then again, considering the circumstances, he thought he and Buffy could use at least a little time apart. So he quickly pulled his clothes back on, crept out of the compartment well behind her, and watched as she hurried past Angel and into the front section to join Dawn. During the few seconds the door was open, Spike heard Dawn's eager question of, "Buffy, were you just making out with the Spike puppet? What was it like?"

He groaned and looked away, only to realize that Angel had caught every word. That settled it; he was never going to live this one down.

TBC