An Englishman in New York
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,100
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,100
Reviews:
76
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.
Happy Xmas (War is Over)
Happy Xmas (War is Over)
“Wake up, everybody, it’s Christmas!” Dawn yelled excitedly at precisely six in the morning, rousing the entire household in one fell swoop.
Spike, who had been awake since Buffy sneaked out of his room – where they had slept together innocently – at a little after four, climbed the stairs from his basement room and lifted Dawn off her feet in a hug; it earned him a series of girlish giggles.
Joyce was the second to show herself for the mêlée that was Christmas morning. Her curly hair stood on end in places, and she feigned scowling when Dawn snickered at her coif. “Buffy!” she called, wondering what was taking her eldest daughter so long.
Finally, Buffy emerged from her room carrying an armload of presents; Dawn’s curiosity and impatience made it necessary for her to hide her gifts in her room. “I was wrapping these,” she explained.
“You open presents before you eat breakfast?” Spike asked inquisitively.
“Don’t you?” Joyce inquired.
“Don’t give her any ideas, Spike!” This was Dawn, who looked horrified by the idea of having to wait to open her gifts.
As the group made their way into the living room and gathered beside the Christmas tree, Buffy caught Spike’s eye and smirked, an unusual expression on her pretty features. He immediately knew that she had done something mischievous.
“Guests first,” declared Joyce, pushing a flat package in Spike’s direction.
“This is too much,” he protested. “What, with the ticket and the guitar and –”
“Don’t argue with me, young man,” she scolded.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded politely as he pried the lid free of the tape that held it closed. Lifting it off, he fell silent when he caught a glimpse of what was inside – a framed photograph of Buffy, Dawn, and himself. Buffy and Dawn beamed up at him, and he had an arm around each of them. He looked perfectly content in the photo, a rare occurrence, as almost every other picture he’d ever had taken depicted him smirking.
“That’s beautiful, Mom,” Buffy commented, eyeing Spike curiously. He looked stunned and on the verge of tears, and she knew that this gift meant more to him than any guitar. Such a gift meant that he was family.
“Your parents and I discussed it, and even though I live across the country from you two, we agreed that I could be your American mother,” said Joyce with her trademark comforting smile.
“Bloody Hell,” he muttered, leaning forward to embrace the woman. “I usually call my mother ‘Mother,’ so you can be my mum.”
“Mine next!” Dawn interrupted, thrusting a DVD-shaped package into his hands.
Tearing the wrapping off, he laughed softly. “Cruel Intentions?”
“It has Sarah Michelle Gellar,” Dawn said proudly, well aware of the fact that the brunette in the film bore a striking resemblance to her blonde sister. “She kisses a girl in this one, and I’ve heard that guys like that sort of thing, so –”
“Dawn Summers!” Joyce rebuked, though her eyes shone with mirth. “I suppose it was a… thoughtful gift.”
Chuckling, Spike dragged the brunette into his arms for a hug. “Thanks, bit. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Mine next,” said Buffy, placing a rather heavy box on Spike’s thigh.
The fact that her daughter was comfortable enough to touch the man’s thighs was not lost on Joyce, and she cheered silently. From what she had heard, Riley was nice enough, but she knew love when she saw it, and no one had ever gazed on a woman with as much adoration as Spike did when looked at Buffy.
Spike’s jaw dropped when he opened the gift from Buffy, and he immediately understood the symbolism behind it; nestled within the tissue paper was a sterling dagger with an ornate handle engraved with a cross and smaller gothic designs surrounding it, and he shuddered to think of how much it had cost.
“If you say ‘bloody Hell’ one more time, I’m going to take that back,” Buffy teased, her words ending in something akin to a squeak when Spike hugged her fiercely.
“Wasn’t going to, pet. This goes beyond bloody Hell.”
“You’ll have to leave that here with me so I can ship it,” Joyce said sensibly, swatting at Dawn’s hand when the girl reached for the dagger.
“Time for you lot to open yours now,” Spike declared, finally consenting to release the tiny blonde. He presented Dawn with her gift first, watching the brunette carefully to gauge her reaction.
Dawn squealed when she discovered her presents – a hand-tooled leather journal and pen – and she launched herself at Spike, dissolving into a fit of ecstatic giggles. “How’d you know I needed a new journal?” she asked suspiciously.
“Didn’t, but Mum let it slip that you keep a journal, so I thought you’d like it.”
“Now you’ll have something pretty to write the Dawnmeister Chronicles in,” said Joyce. She was shocked that Spike had managed to find such a gift in so little time, as they had only separated for twenty minutes during their visit to the mall.
Buffy shook the box the Spike passed to her, a brow arching inquisitively when she found it relatively heavy for its size. “But you already got me something,” she objected.
“And you already got me somethin’,” he countered, gesturing to the box to entreat her to open it. “Besides, it’s as much for me as it is for you. Don’t give me that look, just open it.”
Feigning a scowl, Buffy tore the lid off the box, gaping when she saw the contents. She gingerly lifted the leather duster – an exact replica of the one she ogled each time they watched Underworld – and pulled it on.
“That should keep you from stealin’ mine,” he said lightly. It had cost a small fortune, and it had been no easy task to have it modified to mirror Selene’s coat, but the look on her face was well worth it. He suddenly found his arms full of blonde hair and black leather, and he sighed happily.
Dawn, her eyes the size of small plates, nudged her mother in the side. The look on Spike’s face was not one of a contented roommate, but one of a man in love. At her mother’s affirming nod, she squealed silently.
“Okay,” Buffy said finally, “it’s time for Mom to open her present.” She reluctantly drew away from Spike and snuggled down in her duster, making a mental note to wear it when he smoked so it would smell more like him, which was half the reason she asked to wear his so often.
Ugh, bad Buffy!
“Dawn helped me with it,” muttered Spike almost shyly. He drew in a breath for courage and placed a flat package in Joyce’s hands, encouraged by Dawn’s beaming smile. It had taken him the entire week to complete the gift, and now he thought it the worst idea he’d ever had.
Joyce smiled when she saw the sketched scene depicting Buffy and Dawn at the beach; it was a carbon copy of a photograph she had taken the previous year. “It’s beautiful,” she said thoughtfully.
“I made the frame,” Dawn said proudly, indicating the frame of shells surrounding the drawing. “And I gave Spike the picture so he could copy it. I know it’s your favorite.”
“That’s amazing,” said Buffy, studying Spike’s hands for a moment. If he could create such a drawing, create such music with those hands, what could he do to her body?
Eeep. Very bad Buffy!
As the rest of the gifts were exchanged, Buffy felt a newfound sense of respect for her roommate. She had known that his bad boy act was in truth an act, but having seen so many different facets to him, his authenticity finally hit home. He was a man of song, laughter, bitterness, and rain, a man she could easily fall in love with as she was not able to love Riley. And yet she couldn’t end things with the gentle Iowa farm boy, she had never been the one to end her relationships.
She watched Dawn squeal over her gifts from her and their mother and opened her own mechanically, smiling at the appropriate moments as she revealed various sweaters, books, and a gift certificate to Osteria Laguna so that she and Spike could eat ‘real food’. Her mind was a million miles away as she pondered the recent turn in her relationship with Spike. Neither had spoken of what happened, and they had slept together – really slept – the night before without incident.
She’d had no experience with that sort of thing, and she acknowledged that it was entirely possible that she hadn’t been very good, but then he had nothing to compare the experience to. Still, Angel’s harsh words, though spoken for the ‘greater good’, and Parker’s rejection weighed heavily on her self-confidence, and Riley wasn’t much of a talker in bed. For all she knew, she was horrible, and she decided then and there that she would never make a move on Spike unless he indicated beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted her to.
“Wake up, everybody, it’s Christmas!” Dawn yelled excitedly at precisely six in the morning, rousing the entire household in one fell swoop.
Spike, who had been awake since Buffy sneaked out of his room – where they had slept together innocently – at a little after four, climbed the stairs from his basement room and lifted Dawn off her feet in a hug; it earned him a series of girlish giggles.
Joyce was the second to show herself for the mêlée that was Christmas morning. Her curly hair stood on end in places, and she feigned scowling when Dawn snickered at her coif. “Buffy!” she called, wondering what was taking her eldest daughter so long.
Finally, Buffy emerged from her room carrying an armload of presents; Dawn’s curiosity and impatience made it necessary for her to hide her gifts in her room. “I was wrapping these,” she explained.
“You open presents before you eat breakfast?” Spike asked inquisitively.
“Don’t you?” Joyce inquired.
“Don’t give her any ideas, Spike!” This was Dawn, who looked horrified by the idea of having to wait to open her gifts.
As the group made their way into the living room and gathered beside the Christmas tree, Buffy caught Spike’s eye and smirked, an unusual expression on her pretty features. He immediately knew that she had done something mischievous.
“Guests first,” declared Joyce, pushing a flat package in Spike’s direction.
“This is too much,” he protested. “What, with the ticket and the guitar and –”
“Don’t argue with me, young man,” she scolded.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he responded politely as he pried the lid free of the tape that held it closed. Lifting it off, he fell silent when he caught a glimpse of what was inside – a framed photograph of Buffy, Dawn, and himself. Buffy and Dawn beamed up at him, and he had an arm around each of them. He looked perfectly content in the photo, a rare occurrence, as almost every other picture he’d ever had taken depicted him smirking.
“That’s beautiful, Mom,” Buffy commented, eyeing Spike curiously. He looked stunned and on the verge of tears, and she knew that this gift meant more to him than any guitar. Such a gift meant that he was family.
“Your parents and I discussed it, and even though I live across the country from you two, we agreed that I could be your American mother,” said Joyce with her trademark comforting smile.
“Bloody Hell,” he muttered, leaning forward to embrace the woman. “I usually call my mother ‘Mother,’ so you can be my mum.”
“Mine next!” Dawn interrupted, thrusting a DVD-shaped package into his hands.
Tearing the wrapping off, he laughed softly. “Cruel Intentions?”
“It has Sarah Michelle Gellar,” Dawn said proudly, well aware of the fact that the brunette in the film bore a striking resemblance to her blonde sister. “She kisses a girl in this one, and I’ve heard that guys like that sort of thing, so –”
“Dawn Summers!” Joyce rebuked, though her eyes shone with mirth. “I suppose it was a… thoughtful gift.”
Chuckling, Spike dragged the brunette into his arms for a hug. “Thanks, bit. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Mine next,” said Buffy, placing a rather heavy box on Spike’s thigh.
The fact that her daughter was comfortable enough to touch the man’s thighs was not lost on Joyce, and she cheered silently. From what she had heard, Riley was nice enough, but she knew love when she saw it, and no one had ever gazed on a woman with as much adoration as Spike did when looked at Buffy.
Spike’s jaw dropped when he opened the gift from Buffy, and he immediately understood the symbolism behind it; nestled within the tissue paper was a sterling dagger with an ornate handle engraved with a cross and smaller gothic designs surrounding it, and he shuddered to think of how much it had cost.
“If you say ‘bloody Hell’ one more time, I’m going to take that back,” Buffy teased, her words ending in something akin to a squeak when Spike hugged her fiercely.
“Wasn’t going to, pet. This goes beyond bloody Hell.”
“You’ll have to leave that here with me so I can ship it,” Joyce said sensibly, swatting at Dawn’s hand when the girl reached for the dagger.
“Time for you lot to open yours now,” Spike declared, finally consenting to release the tiny blonde. He presented Dawn with her gift first, watching the brunette carefully to gauge her reaction.
Dawn squealed when she discovered her presents – a hand-tooled leather journal and pen – and she launched herself at Spike, dissolving into a fit of ecstatic giggles. “How’d you know I needed a new journal?” she asked suspiciously.
“Didn’t, but Mum let it slip that you keep a journal, so I thought you’d like it.”
“Now you’ll have something pretty to write the Dawnmeister Chronicles in,” said Joyce. She was shocked that Spike had managed to find such a gift in so little time, as they had only separated for twenty minutes during their visit to the mall.
Buffy shook the box the Spike passed to her, a brow arching inquisitively when she found it relatively heavy for its size. “But you already got me something,” she objected.
“And you already got me somethin’,” he countered, gesturing to the box to entreat her to open it. “Besides, it’s as much for me as it is for you. Don’t give me that look, just open it.”
Feigning a scowl, Buffy tore the lid off the box, gaping when she saw the contents. She gingerly lifted the leather duster – an exact replica of the one she ogled each time they watched Underworld – and pulled it on.
“That should keep you from stealin’ mine,” he said lightly. It had cost a small fortune, and it had been no easy task to have it modified to mirror Selene’s coat, but the look on her face was well worth it. He suddenly found his arms full of blonde hair and black leather, and he sighed happily.
Dawn, her eyes the size of small plates, nudged her mother in the side. The look on Spike’s face was not one of a contented roommate, but one of a man in love. At her mother’s affirming nod, she squealed silently.
“Okay,” Buffy said finally, “it’s time for Mom to open her present.” She reluctantly drew away from Spike and snuggled down in her duster, making a mental note to wear it when he smoked so it would smell more like him, which was half the reason she asked to wear his so often.
Ugh, bad Buffy!
“Dawn helped me with it,” muttered Spike almost shyly. He drew in a breath for courage and placed a flat package in Joyce’s hands, encouraged by Dawn’s beaming smile. It had taken him the entire week to complete the gift, and now he thought it the worst idea he’d ever had.
Joyce smiled when she saw the sketched scene depicting Buffy and Dawn at the beach; it was a carbon copy of a photograph she had taken the previous year. “It’s beautiful,” she said thoughtfully.
“I made the frame,” Dawn said proudly, indicating the frame of shells surrounding the drawing. “And I gave Spike the picture so he could copy it. I know it’s your favorite.”
“That’s amazing,” said Buffy, studying Spike’s hands for a moment. If he could create such a drawing, create such music with those hands, what could he do to her body?
Eeep. Very bad Buffy!
As the rest of the gifts were exchanged, Buffy felt a newfound sense of respect for her roommate. She had known that his bad boy act was in truth an act, but having seen so many different facets to him, his authenticity finally hit home. He was a man of song, laughter, bitterness, and rain, a man she could easily fall in love with as she was not able to love Riley. And yet she couldn’t end things with the gentle Iowa farm boy, she had never been the one to end her relationships.
She watched Dawn squeal over her gifts from her and their mother and opened her own mechanically, smiling at the appropriate moments as she revealed various sweaters, books, and a gift certificate to Osteria Laguna so that she and Spike could eat ‘real food’. Her mind was a million miles away as she pondered the recent turn in her relationship with Spike. Neither had spoken of what happened, and they had slept together – really slept – the night before without incident.
She’d had no experience with that sort of thing, and she acknowledged that it was entirely possible that she hadn’t been very good, but then he had nothing to compare the experience to. Still, Angel’s harsh words, though spoken for the ‘greater good’, and Parker’s rejection weighed heavily on her self-confidence, and Riley wasn’t much of a talker in bed. For all she knew, she was horrible, and she decided then and there that she would never make a move on Spike unless he indicated beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted her to.