Eternal Sunshine
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,129
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,129
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Secrets
Author’s Note: Anything not in Buffy’s POV is denoted in nifty italics just like these. Reviews are used to keep me warm at night, so keep them coming, or else you’ll be known as a heartless bastard who wanted a poor fanfic author to freeze to death…
**
Secrets
“You’re looking smug.”
Polishing off the last of the tiny bottle of Bacardi 151, Spike unceremoniously tosses it into the increasing pile of empty liquor bottles on his tray table.
“I’m what?” he asks flippantly and snatches up the Jack Daniels just to the right of him.
“Looking smug,” Angel repeats, “smug-er than usual.”
“Is it bothering you?”
“What do you think,” he gruffly replies.
Catching the bottle between his teeth, the blonde vamp tilts his head back and empties it. “Oh…” he begins pulling the object from his lips with a ‘pop’, “good; I’ll be sure to continue doing it.”
“What did you do!”
Spike snorts. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know you, Spike.” Angel grits his teeth. “You shouldjustjust as miserable as I am…”
“And drinking all the alcohol on this plane screams bloody, happy-go-lucky to you?!”
Angel shakes his head. “Something’s off. What did you do?!”
“I haven’t done anything!” Pausing, he adds, “Maybe I’m just more mature than you are,” with a self-assured grin.
“You wish,” Angel scoffs.
Smirk locked into place Spike shrugs and tosses another bottle to the side.
Angel glares. “I’ve got maturity coming out of my ass!”
“Right,” Spike snickers. “Of course you do.”
The two were quiet for a moment. Shoulders slumped and features fixed into the appearance of a wounded puppy, Angel snatches up a nearby bag of peanuts and rips them open.
A sigh, “It’s Buffy, you know.”
Spike matches him with a sigh of his own. “Yeah.” A beat, “And her eyes are green, you git.”
**
“And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?!”
“Um…just a couple of days past never,” Andrew laughs nervously before suddenly putting on his serious face (squinty eyes, wrinkled nose and lip biting). “I was under strict orders.”
I take a deep breath. At this point I feel deep breathing will prevent me from committing homicide. I could be wrong tho…
Turning this into a kill the messenger situation is the last thing I want to do, but Spike’s not here and Andrew’s blonde and skinny enough for my rage to find him a worthy substitute. You know, I’m really sick and tired of men (alive ot qot quite) treating me as if I am some sort of easily breakable doll: handle this one with care or else you’ll be left with shards of glass and creepy unblinking eyes. I’m not.
Two steps in my stylish yet affordable boots would be enough to drive any normal human being completely ape-shit, but I deal with it. Hanging up my stakes didn’t magically wash away the memory of seeing Xander lose his eye or clean my hands of the dirt I turned over to bury girls that weren’t old enough to have a prom.
I couldn’t save Anya and the memory of finding my mother on that couch is still so fresh I’m not sure it will ever stop stinging; and there isn’t a day or an hour that goes by, that I don’t reply my final moments with Spike in that cave…
And if I’m strong enough to deal with all of this, then you can bet your ass I wouldn’t have turned into a screaming, weepy, no where near functional mess upon hearing the news the man who died seconds after I realized I loved him was really kinda alive!
At least not in public anyway.
Andrew’s looking at me expectantly – as if he’s bracing himself for the moment I’ll detach his head from that comfortable perch on his shoulders.
In a weird way I’ve grown to trust this kid. Tendency to drive people to arson aside, Andrew kinda grows on you and not in the fungus-y way you would imagine. He’s become a confidant; and god help me for saying this, a friend as well. And he kept the biggest secret this side of who shot JR from me for ages.
I wanna yell. I wanna break every item in this apartment despite there being no way in hell I can pay to replace them.
“I hate Mondays,” is all I can manage.
**
“So you’re going to LA?”
“Looks like,” I say absently while stuffing another shirt in my suitcase. “Did I grab that shampoo…”
Without missing a beat, Dawn tosses me the bottle of Pantene my bags were missing and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I wanna go.”
“You can’t,” I sigh.
“Just because you had all of the kinky sex with him, doesn’t mean you’re the only one who’s missed him.” Looking up I’m greeted by a pair of narrowed Dawnie eyes filled with so much piss and vinegar I am actually a little worried the back of my head will explode.
Another sigh, “I know you miss him.”
“Then why…”
“You’ve got school.”
The snort that comes out of her mouth is a prime example of the type of indignation only someone who deals with pimples and study hall could unleash.
“…And this whole thing with Spike and I is complicated enough without throwing my little sister into the mix.” Zipping up the last of my suitcases, I add, “Taking into account the fact that I’ll be kicking his ass until it’s a whole new shape for the first ten hours or so of our reunion; LA isn’t the best of places for you to be right now.”
The eyes of death disappear and Dawn suddenly smiles. “Kicking his ass, huh?” She climbs off of the bed heads over to my closet throwing it open and yanks my incredibly expensive (75% off the original price) red, lacy Vickie Secrets teddy off of its fluffy hook. “You might wanna take this; at least make all of that foreplay interesting,” she grins wickedly.
“Who taught you that word?!” I snap good-naturedly, taking the little number out of her hands and then make a lame attempt to stuff it into my bag without her seeing.
“We’ve got cable,” she chortles.
“I’m hereby canceling our subscription.”
Spike does something to me. When he wasn’t frustrating me to the point of wanting to tear my hair out he was able to make me feel as if I were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire unlife –
“Wow; this wasn’t quite the reaction I was looking for when I put together that flower arrangement.”
Standing in the apartment doorway, (staring at the hundreds of suitcases at my feet) with an uneasy smile on his chiseled face was the man I spent the night before snuggling on the sofa with.
“Look, the Immortal’s here!” Andrew states the obvious with a high pitched laugh. “Isn’t it nice of him to drop in?”
“I’ve told you a million times, Andrew, it’s Tony,” he says offhandedly and before I know it, the uneasy smile focuses solely on me again. “If I’d known roses would drive you to leave the country, Innamorato, I would’ve gotten a puppy instead.”
Spike apparently also possesses the ability to make me forget I have a boyfriend.
**
Secrets
“You’re looking smug.”
Polishing off the last of the tiny bottle of Bacardi 151, Spike unceremoniously tosses it into the increasing pile of empty liquor bottles on his tray table.
“I’m what?” he asks flippantly and snatches up the Jack Daniels just to the right of him.
“Looking smug,” Angel repeats, “smug-er than usual.”
“Is it bothering you?”
“What do you think,” he gruffly replies.
Catching the bottle between his teeth, the blonde vamp tilts his head back and empties it. “Oh…” he begins pulling the object from his lips with a ‘pop’, “good; I’ll be sure to continue doing it.”
“What did you do!”
Spike snorts. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know you, Spike.” Angel grits his teeth. “You shouldjustjust as miserable as I am…”
“And drinking all the alcohol on this plane screams bloody, happy-go-lucky to you?!”
Angel shakes his head. “Something’s off. What did you do?!”
“I haven’t done anything!” Pausing, he adds, “Maybe I’m just more mature than you are,” with a self-assured grin.
“You wish,” Angel scoffs.
Smirk locked into place Spike shrugs and tosses another bottle to the side.
Angel glares. “I’ve got maturity coming out of my ass!”
“Right,” Spike snickers. “Of course you do.”
The two were quiet for a moment. Shoulders slumped and features fixed into the appearance of a wounded puppy, Angel snatches up a nearby bag of peanuts and rips them open.
A sigh, “It’s Buffy, you know.”
Spike matches him with a sigh of his own. “Yeah.” A beat, “And her eyes are green, you git.”
**
“And when exactly were you planning on telling me this?!”
“Um…just a couple of days past never,” Andrew laughs nervously before suddenly putting on his serious face (squinty eyes, wrinkled nose and lip biting). “I was under strict orders.”
I take a deep breath. At this point I feel deep breathing will prevent me from committing homicide. I could be wrong tho…
Turning this into a kill the messenger situation is the last thing I want to do, but Spike’s not here and Andrew’s blonde and skinny enough for my rage to find him a worthy substitute. You know, I’m really sick and tired of men (alive ot qot quite) treating me as if I am some sort of easily breakable doll: handle this one with care or else you’ll be left with shards of glass and creepy unblinking eyes. I’m not.
Two steps in my stylish yet affordable boots would be enough to drive any normal human being completely ape-shit, but I deal with it. Hanging up my stakes didn’t magically wash away the memory of seeing Xander lose his eye or clean my hands of the dirt I turned over to bury girls that weren’t old enough to have a prom.
I couldn’t save Anya and the memory of finding my mother on that couch is still so fresh I’m not sure it will ever stop stinging; and there isn’t a day or an hour that goes by, that I don’t reply my final moments with Spike in that cave…
And if I’m strong enough to deal with all of this, then you can bet your ass I wouldn’t have turned into a screaming, weepy, no where near functional mess upon hearing the news the man who died seconds after I realized I loved him was really kinda alive!
At least not in public anyway.
Andrew’s looking at me expectantly – as if he’s bracing himself for the moment I’ll detach his head from that comfortable perch on his shoulders.
In a weird way I’ve grown to trust this kid. Tendency to drive people to arson aside, Andrew kinda grows on you and not in the fungus-y way you would imagine. He’s become a confidant; and god help me for saying this, a friend as well. And he kept the biggest secret this side of who shot JR from me for ages.
I wanna yell. I wanna break every item in this apartment despite there being no way in hell I can pay to replace them.
“I hate Mondays,” is all I can manage.
**
“So you’re going to LA?”
“Looks like,” I say absently while stuffing another shirt in my suitcase. “Did I grab that shampoo…”
Without missing a beat, Dawn tosses me the bottle of Pantene my bags were missing and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I wanna go.”
“You can’t,” I sigh.
“Just because you had all of the kinky sex with him, doesn’t mean you’re the only one who’s missed him.” Looking up I’m greeted by a pair of narrowed Dawnie eyes filled with so much piss and vinegar I am actually a little worried the back of my head will explode.
Another sigh, “I know you miss him.”
“Then why…”
“You’ve got school.”
The snort that comes out of her mouth is a prime example of the type of indignation only someone who deals with pimples and study hall could unleash.
“…And this whole thing with Spike and I is complicated enough without throwing my little sister into the mix.” Zipping up the last of my suitcases, I add, “Taking into account the fact that I’ll be kicking his ass until it’s a whole new shape for the first ten hours or so of our reunion; LA isn’t the best of places for you to be right now.”
The eyes of death disappear and Dawn suddenly smiles. “Kicking his ass, huh?” She climbs off of the bed heads over to my closet throwing it open and yanks my incredibly expensive (75% off the original price) red, lacy Vickie Secrets teddy off of its fluffy hook. “You might wanna take this; at least make all of that foreplay interesting,” she grins wickedly.
“Who taught you that word?!” I snap good-naturedly, taking the little number out of her hands and then make a lame attempt to stuff it into my bag without her seeing.
“We’ve got cable,” she chortles.
“I’m hereby canceling our subscription.”
Spike does something to me. When he wasn’t frustrating me to the point of wanting to tear my hair out he was able to make me feel as if I were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire unlife –
“Wow; this wasn’t quite the reaction I was looking for when I put together that flower arrangement.”
Standing in the apartment doorway, (staring at the hundreds of suitcases at my feet) with an uneasy smile on his chiseled face was the man I spent the night before snuggling on the sofa with.
“Look, the Immortal’s here!” Andrew states the obvious with a high pitched laugh. “Isn’t it nice of him to drop in?”
“I’ve told you a million times, Andrew, it’s Tony,” he says offhandedly and before I know it, the uneasy smile focuses solely on me again. “If I’d known roses would drive you to leave the country, Innamorato, I would’ve gotten a puppy instead.”
Spike apparently also possesses the ability to make me forget I have a boyfriend.