Playing to Win
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,982
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
3,982
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Conversations Kill
Disclaimers: See chapter 1
Conversations Kill
The prey sat, unaware of the regard of the hunter. It only concerned itself with activities common to its every day. Suddenly a blond head jerked up, seemingly wary of some unknown threat. Seeing only Spike, perusing a coffee table book that was actually about coffee tables while drinking blood out of a bright yellow smiley face mug, she returned to her conversation with Willow.
”So, is it just me being all paranoid and slayer-y, or has Xander been acting a little strange lately?” asked Buffy.
Willow looked up, almost relieved, before she started babbling; obviously this had been on her mind for a while.
”No, there’s definitely something going on with him; you don’t know somebody for this many years, and we’re talking through Barbie and Ken hair catastrophies, swim camp humiliation, and more recently virgin eating preying mantises and Cordelia, without noticing that he hasn’t been 100% Xander lately,” offered Willow, continuing, “more like 75%, or 50% Xander lately; we hardly see him around anymore, and when we do, he’s all jumpy and strange – and not normal Xander strange, not that I think Xander is strange, and please stop me!” Willow babbled in a way Buffy had not heard in quite a while.
”Well, I guess I’m glad I’m not the only one noticing, although I’m not glad there’s something to notice,” Buffy paused, looking over her project, “pass the screwdriver, Will, please; I think I am on my way to carpenter-y success,” she said as she finished bolting the self-assemble shelves together that were to replace the ones she broke the last time she and Spike had gotten into a “disagreement”.
She was finding herself looking forward to those “disagreements” more and more lately, and even she could admit to herself that she sometimes intentionally antagonised him. What could she say, it was fun! More thought than that lead somewhere best not gone, in Buffy’s mind.
”So any ideas, oh newly intellectual roomie of mine,” queried Willow, referring to the sudden turn around in grades Buffy had gotten recently, ignoring that unfortunate beer incident early in the semester.
”Nope, I am officially idea free,” admitted Buffy, frowning a little, while looking at Spike, who seemed to be intentionally not looking at her.
”Speaking of strange behaviour, what’s been up with our favourite helpless vampire lately? He hasn’t been as nearly annoying or insinuating lately; it’s been annoying me,” complained Buffy with another frown in said vampire’s direction.
”Mmmm-hmmm,” mumbled Willow, still preoccupied with the Xander situation. It really bothered her that something could be wrong and she not know about it.
Buffy gave a long dramatic sigh and got up, stretching with a little extra sensuousness than usual, “just to rile Spike” she told herself, “not because she wanted him to notice her or anything.” Walking across the room, and definitely not swaying her hips more than usual, she passed right by Spike.
The vampire in question slouched down in his chair, a pensive expression taking over. He needed a plan. There should be a handbook for this; “How to Seduce the Mortal Enemy of Your Dreams (and her friends)” Of course, following the handbook never had worked particularly well in Sunnydale, the place where the only thing that got kicked more than his arse was his ego. There was one thing he knew for sure though; he would have go about this very carefully, and that worried him a bit. After all, patience wasn’t exactly his strongpoint, and prudence was something he abandoned along with his humanity. Unfortunately, there was something else he was more than a little sure of, like most of his plans in Sunnydale, it had the very likely possibility of spectacular failure. Spike sighed, reached over and snatched a nearby pen and scrap paper and started scribbling madly.
Spike’s plan:
1. Save one of her bloody friends – Willow?
2. Get hurt in the process… appear to get hurt in the process
3. Sympathy – tending to wounds (Nurse Buffy?)
4. Shag like bunnies
5. Shag Xander
6. Consider shagging Willow…
Satisfied with the full-proof nature of his plan, Spike stuffed the notes in his duster pocket and sauntered off to work out a little aggression before his “saviour” role that night.
After the meeting, the girls decided to head out. Willow offered to participate in some Buffy slaying QT, but Buffy, a little distractedly, told her to head home and that she’d see her in the morning. Buffy’s attention was soon focused on a group of scaley, brown demons that had gathered around a scared group of teenagers that had apparently thought the cemetery would be a romantic place to conclude the making-out portion of their date. The demons seemed only to be taunting them at the moment, and Buffy, just for a second, was almost tempted to join them. Stupid teenagers!
”As much as I’d love to let you get eaten for being morons, I have this calling thing which means I get to save you instead. It’s a thing,” called out Buffy, causing the demons to snicker for a moment before they reverted to their “grrrrr, Slayer” attitude.
Of course, their “grrrr, Slayer” soon turned into “kill Slayer”, and they were doing a pretty good job of it. “A calling, a calling, *oooomph*,” Buffy complained to herself as she was thrown against the tombstone for the fifth time.
”Why couldn’t I have had a calling to help people defeat their fashion demons – I have wicked good taste in shoes…” Buffy muttered as orange slime exploded all over her. She had discovered that the only way to kill these things was to squeeze the little pulsating bulbs on top of their head until they burst. She didn’t even want to contemplate what part of their anatomy they really were. A blow from behind cut off that, and all other, trains of thought for a moment.
When she came to a few seconds later, she had two surprises; one, she wasn’t dead, or horribly maimed, and two, most of the demons were dead, steaming in a pile of bubbling orange goo. Then she heard it.
”Take that, you right ugly bastard!” Spike exclaimed, joyfully, while he finished off the last demon, jumping aside carefully to avoid the spray.
Spike then stood back, cracked his neck, and looked around. Satisfied, he turned to Buffy, looked around a bit, as if expecting someone else, then back at her.
”Hello, luv.”
At Buffy’s blank look, he repeated, “Luv?” Continuing with concern, “Are you alright there then?” he queried with a soft look and a tilt of his head.
She nodded yes, or at least she thought she did, and started to reply.
Then, before they could begin their normal and time-honoured routine of threats, taunts and violence, he turned and walked away, muttering the whole time.
The next morning found Buffy in a perplexed mood as she got ready for class. While she brushed her teeth, she wondered what was up with Spike. While she tossed aside jeans and a t-shirt for leather pants and a camisole, she wondered about Spike. While she drug a brush through her hair and applied her make-up, she wondered about Spike.
”Willow,” she stated as Willow came in from the bathroom, already dressed and ready to go in spite of waking up almost 30 minutes later than Buffy, “I’ve been wondering about Spike lately.”
”Um, why?” Willow asked a little distractedly as she carefully placed all her perfectly organised notes and textbooks she would need for the day in her backpack.
”Well, last night, for example,” Buffy hesitated, “he kinda saved my life,” she finished in a low voice.
”And that’s a good thing, right, because an alive Buffy is a fun Buffy!” Willow said cheerfully.
“But it’s Spike, he who wants to kill me, snap my neck, drain me dry, have a party with my intestines…” Buffy trailed off to ponder that mental picture.
Willow, shaking her head, said the first thing that came to mind, “Maybe he’s reforming, you know, getting all rehabilitated from being around us all the time, and us being all non-evil; either that or he has a thing for you,” she mused.
“Will!” Buffy cried, “How could you even think something like that, much less say it out loud; it’s icky, and someone might hear you!”
Willow secretly didn’t think it was so terribly icky; if fact she kind of thought, in a very hidden, never to be revealed… ever, part of her, that he was quite good looking, and some part of her had a soft spot for the vamp who seemed so vulnerable these days. “Maybe Buffy should give him a break; she certainly seemed to like kissing him when she thought she was in love with him,” she thought with a little giggle, before the guilt associated with her being the reason for it in the first place kicked in.
”So, what did he do exactly that has you so wigged?” Willow queried.
”Well it wasn’t just that he saved my life,” complained Buffy, “he was acting all, sweet and very unSpike-like, then muttering about plans and bunnies and how much he hated Sunnydale,” Buffy continued, “and then he just left, with no jibes, no bragging about how he had to save me… nothing.” She paused for a moment, thinking about last night and what it could mean… “He’s got to be up to something, and I’m gonna find out what.”
With that Buffy grabbed the rest of her stuff, threw it in one of her new handbags and rushed out the door, with a bemused Willow following, munching on a peach and thinking that it reminded her of Tara, soft and fragrant.
Meanwhile Spike sat in his newly acquired easy chair, his fingers loosely wrapped around a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting between his legs. The other hand was idly scratching his chest. He took another long gulp of whiskey, relishing the burn on the way down. He thought of that lovely burn that he would feel buried in the Slayer or holding down the boy, scraping his fangs down the contour of his spine while pounding into him, slick and tight, and quivering. Losing himself in the fantasy, Spike’s hand drifted down his body.
Conversations Kill
The prey sat, unaware of the regard of the hunter. It only concerned itself with activities common to its every day. Suddenly a blond head jerked up, seemingly wary of some unknown threat. Seeing only Spike, perusing a coffee table book that was actually about coffee tables while drinking blood out of a bright yellow smiley face mug, she returned to her conversation with Willow.
”So, is it just me being all paranoid and slayer-y, or has Xander been acting a little strange lately?” asked Buffy.
Willow looked up, almost relieved, before she started babbling; obviously this had been on her mind for a while.
”No, there’s definitely something going on with him; you don’t know somebody for this many years, and we’re talking through Barbie and Ken hair catastrophies, swim camp humiliation, and more recently virgin eating preying mantises and Cordelia, without noticing that he hasn’t been 100% Xander lately,” offered Willow, continuing, “more like 75%, or 50% Xander lately; we hardly see him around anymore, and when we do, he’s all jumpy and strange – and not normal Xander strange, not that I think Xander is strange, and please stop me!” Willow babbled in a way Buffy had not heard in quite a while.
”Well, I guess I’m glad I’m not the only one noticing, although I’m not glad there’s something to notice,” Buffy paused, looking over her project, “pass the screwdriver, Will, please; I think I am on my way to carpenter-y success,” she said as she finished bolting the self-assemble shelves together that were to replace the ones she broke the last time she and Spike had gotten into a “disagreement”.
She was finding herself looking forward to those “disagreements” more and more lately, and even she could admit to herself that she sometimes intentionally antagonised him. What could she say, it was fun! More thought than that lead somewhere best not gone, in Buffy’s mind.
”So any ideas, oh newly intellectual roomie of mine,” queried Willow, referring to the sudden turn around in grades Buffy had gotten recently, ignoring that unfortunate beer incident early in the semester.
”Nope, I am officially idea free,” admitted Buffy, frowning a little, while looking at Spike, who seemed to be intentionally not looking at her.
”Speaking of strange behaviour, what’s been up with our favourite helpless vampire lately? He hasn’t been as nearly annoying or insinuating lately; it’s been annoying me,” complained Buffy with another frown in said vampire’s direction.
”Mmmm-hmmm,” mumbled Willow, still preoccupied with the Xander situation. It really bothered her that something could be wrong and she not know about it.
Buffy gave a long dramatic sigh and got up, stretching with a little extra sensuousness than usual, “just to rile Spike” she told herself, “not because she wanted him to notice her or anything.” Walking across the room, and definitely not swaying her hips more than usual, she passed right by Spike.
The vampire in question slouched down in his chair, a pensive expression taking over. He needed a plan. There should be a handbook for this; “How to Seduce the Mortal Enemy of Your Dreams (and her friends)” Of course, following the handbook never had worked particularly well in Sunnydale, the place where the only thing that got kicked more than his arse was his ego. There was one thing he knew for sure though; he would have go about this very carefully, and that worried him a bit. After all, patience wasn’t exactly his strongpoint, and prudence was something he abandoned along with his humanity. Unfortunately, there was something else he was more than a little sure of, like most of his plans in Sunnydale, it had the very likely possibility of spectacular failure. Spike sighed, reached over and snatched a nearby pen and scrap paper and started scribbling madly.
Spike’s plan:
1. Save one of her bloody friends – Willow?
2. Get hurt in the process… appear to get hurt in the process
3. Sympathy – tending to wounds (Nurse Buffy?)
4. Shag like bunnies
5. Shag Xander
6. Consider shagging Willow…
Satisfied with the full-proof nature of his plan, Spike stuffed the notes in his duster pocket and sauntered off to work out a little aggression before his “saviour” role that night.
After the meeting, the girls decided to head out. Willow offered to participate in some Buffy slaying QT, but Buffy, a little distractedly, told her to head home and that she’d see her in the morning. Buffy’s attention was soon focused on a group of scaley, brown demons that had gathered around a scared group of teenagers that had apparently thought the cemetery would be a romantic place to conclude the making-out portion of their date. The demons seemed only to be taunting them at the moment, and Buffy, just for a second, was almost tempted to join them. Stupid teenagers!
”As much as I’d love to let you get eaten for being morons, I have this calling thing which means I get to save you instead. It’s a thing,” called out Buffy, causing the demons to snicker for a moment before they reverted to their “grrrrr, Slayer” attitude.
Of course, their “grrrr, Slayer” soon turned into “kill Slayer”, and they were doing a pretty good job of it. “A calling, a calling, *oooomph*,” Buffy complained to herself as she was thrown against the tombstone for the fifth time.
”Why couldn’t I have had a calling to help people defeat their fashion demons – I have wicked good taste in shoes…” Buffy muttered as orange slime exploded all over her. She had discovered that the only way to kill these things was to squeeze the little pulsating bulbs on top of their head until they burst. She didn’t even want to contemplate what part of their anatomy they really were. A blow from behind cut off that, and all other, trains of thought for a moment.
When she came to a few seconds later, she had two surprises; one, she wasn’t dead, or horribly maimed, and two, most of the demons were dead, steaming in a pile of bubbling orange goo. Then she heard it.
”Take that, you right ugly bastard!” Spike exclaimed, joyfully, while he finished off the last demon, jumping aside carefully to avoid the spray.
Spike then stood back, cracked his neck, and looked around. Satisfied, he turned to Buffy, looked around a bit, as if expecting someone else, then back at her.
”Hello, luv.”
At Buffy’s blank look, he repeated, “Luv?” Continuing with concern, “Are you alright there then?” he queried with a soft look and a tilt of his head.
She nodded yes, or at least she thought she did, and started to reply.
Then, before they could begin their normal and time-honoured routine of threats, taunts and violence, he turned and walked away, muttering the whole time.
The next morning found Buffy in a perplexed mood as she got ready for class. While she brushed her teeth, she wondered what was up with Spike. While she tossed aside jeans and a t-shirt for leather pants and a camisole, she wondered about Spike. While she drug a brush through her hair and applied her make-up, she wondered about Spike.
”Willow,” she stated as Willow came in from the bathroom, already dressed and ready to go in spite of waking up almost 30 minutes later than Buffy, “I’ve been wondering about Spike lately.”
”Um, why?” Willow asked a little distractedly as she carefully placed all her perfectly organised notes and textbooks she would need for the day in her backpack.
”Well, last night, for example,” Buffy hesitated, “he kinda saved my life,” she finished in a low voice.
”And that’s a good thing, right, because an alive Buffy is a fun Buffy!” Willow said cheerfully.
“But it’s Spike, he who wants to kill me, snap my neck, drain me dry, have a party with my intestines…” Buffy trailed off to ponder that mental picture.
Willow, shaking her head, said the first thing that came to mind, “Maybe he’s reforming, you know, getting all rehabilitated from being around us all the time, and us being all non-evil; either that or he has a thing for you,” she mused.
“Will!” Buffy cried, “How could you even think something like that, much less say it out loud; it’s icky, and someone might hear you!”
Willow secretly didn’t think it was so terribly icky; if fact she kind of thought, in a very hidden, never to be revealed… ever, part of her, that he was quite good looking, and some part of her had a soft spot for the vamp who seemed so vulnerable these days. “Maybe Buffy should give him a break; she certainly seemed to like kissing him when she thought she was in love with him,” she thought with a little giggle, before the guilt associated with her being the reason for it in the first place kicked in.
”So, what did he do exactly that has you so wigged?” Willow queried.
”Well it wasn’t just that he saved my life,” complained Buffy, “he was acting all, sweet and very unSpike-like, then muttering about plans and bunnies and how much he hated Sunnydale,” Buffy continued, “and then he just left, with no jibes, no bragging about how he had to save me… nothing.” She paused for a moment, thinking about last night and what it could mean… “He’s got to be up to something, and I’m gonna find out what.”
With that Buffy grabbed the rest of her stuff, threw it in one of her new handbags and rushed out the door, with a bemused Willow following, munching on a peach and thinking that it reminded her of Tara, soft and fragrant.
Meanwhile Spike sat in his newly acquired easy chair, his fingers loosely wrapped around a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels resting between his legs. The other hand was idly scratching his chest. He took another long gulp of whiskey, relishing the burn on the way down. He thought of that lovely burn that he would feel buried in the Slayer or holding down the boy, scraping his fangs down the contour of his spine while pounding into him, slick and tight, and quivering. Losing himself in the fantasy, Spike’s hand drifted down his body.