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Life Serial Revisited

By: Tiana
folder -Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 10
Views: 4,057
Reviews: 24
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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.
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Chapter 4: The Good Stuff

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Chapter 4: The Good Stuff
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“Fast learner.” His voice is caught between impressed and…concerned? I think. Things are not as crispy clear as they were when I got here. Back when he was naked. I feel my face slide into a pout. He’s not naked now. I shake my head, knocking that highly inappropriate thought loose. Only it is holding on kinda tight, not wanting to get shook loose.

“You all right, Slayer?” There it is again, concerned. Only more so. Wonder why? Ohhhh. ‘Cause I’m only talking inside my head instead of answering him. That might be the problem-o.

“’m fine, Shpike.”

“Then why did you call me Shpike?” Alrighty, now the amusement is back...and yep, there it is. The smirk. Ha freakin’ ha, Buffy can’t talk right no more.

“I don’t know, SPIKE. See? I can say it just fine.” I notice right then that the carafe we started is now empty. “Hey. Empty.” I frown at first the bottle, then at him. He smiles at me before swinging a leg off the sarcophagus and walking...where? “Where ya goin’?”

I hear him in the shadows, can just make him out bending over beside his chair. He returns into the candlelight we are drinking by and holds up his prize. A shiny silver flask full of somethin’. Booze, I guess. Booze. Funny word. Oh, he’s talking.

“Found the rest of my stash, luv. And this…” He swishes the flask around. “…is the good stuff.” He grins as he takes his place back on the sarcophag He He quickly fills my glass and then his. He takes his shot and smiles slowly, with a look of pleasure I find very…interesting. I take up mine and look at it, matching his grin.

“This is gonna be great.” I throw it down and react immediately, shaking and fighting the taste. That was good? He is one weird vampire.

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This is getting to be entirely too much fun. Slayer has really taken a liking…well, not so much a liking as found her calling with shots. She can take ‘em like a pro, but still hates the taste. Bloody well cute when she reacts, especially this new reaction to my good whiskey. Should have known she wouldn’t appreciate it, the way it slides down smooth and rich, warming from the inside out. ‘course, I’m more in need of the warming than she is. What’s this? Slayer feeling sorry for herself? Life is stupid? Well, yeah…she’s got a point there…

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I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to Spike. None of my friends can stand to hear how much life sucks. But Spike, he agrees. He tells me it’s okay to be sad, to be angry, to just feel, for god’s sake. Even says the right thing, the tough thing. And he’s cute when he does it, too. As a bonus. Ooh, more whiskey…

* * *
Ooh. No more whiskey. Laaasst shot.

“You’re a creature of the darkness. Like me.” I study him. He almost makes sense and I don’t know if it’s the liquor or the truth. “Try on my world. See how good it feels.” Like to see how good you feel. Wha?! Focus, Buffy.

I glance down at my last shot and back up at him, vision blurring slightly. “Are there drinks in your world?”

Smirk smirk smirk. “Slayer, luv, indeed there are.” I throw back the last shot. Despite the nasty taste, I’m actually starting to get used to the strange burning sensation. It’s nice to just feel something strong like that. To know I’m alive.

I slam down the glass, nearly shattering it. Oops. Slayer strength. “Well, let’s have at it then. Kick some demon booty and have fun doin’ it!” I swing my arm in a very can-do maneuver, nearly knocking myself clean off the tomb. Spike’s arm darts out to steady me, grasping my upper arm. I freeze, wobbling slightly, and look from his hand, up his arm, to his face. He lets go quickly before I can get a really good look into his eyes. Blue. So so blue. I look down at my arm where his hand was and it’s still tingling. Back at him, but he’s turned his eyes away from me, trying to hide something…or was there nothing to hide? A short and awkward silence extends itself. I try to swing my leg over to get off the sarcophagus, but for some reason, it is not responding. I bite my lip and look at my uncooperative right leg. Frowning, I tell those muscles to move again. Nothing. Spike is just watching me. I’m not looking at him. He’s probably close to bursting into laughter.

“Little help here?” I frown up at him. “My leg is not responding to commands, it appears.”

I can tell Spike is exerting way more self control than usual to keep from laughing as he gets up and comes to my rescue. My leg is mostly asleep and I am mostly drunk, it seems. With a touch more gentle than I expected or really even knew he had, he lifts my leg and rotates me so that my legs are hanging off the side. Which ends up making him stand right there, kind of halfway between my legs.

“Th-thanks, Spike.” I curse to myself at the waver in my voice. But god, his hands on my leg were so strong and firm and…um, boy. Back up those thoughts, Buffy. I glance up at him quickly. He’s still standing there, looking down at me in a most unsettling fashion. He nods in acknowledgement. It’s the booze, most definitely. Only he does not appear to be drunk in the least. Damn vampire. What, you need more of an actual bloodstream to get alcohol into it?? But on my side, it’s so the booze talking…and thinking. And kinda wanting. I bite into my lip, willing my inner voice to shut the heck up. When did I get so damn inner chatty? Time to go, let’s go, Buffy.

I break the quiet again, this time by hopping to my feet. Only Spike was awfully close to me when I did so, which just means I kinda rubbed against him when I stood up. My eyes widen at what I am quite sure I just felt. I mean, I don’t have the vastest – oops, not a word – knowledge of these things, but he felt a bit on the hard side. I swallow. And not small. No sirree. More what you would call…big.

I move away quickly, hopefully convincing him that I felt nothing. Could have been my imagination, what with the alcohol and inner turmoil. Yeah, it’s my inner turmoil and return from the deadness that’s making me act all wiggy. It will pass. I cut my eyes back to Spike, who has made a show of locating his duster off in the shadows. I hear that swish of leather and then he reappears in the familiar coat, eyebrows quirked up in question.

“Ready to go, Slayer?” Oh, so are we business-y again? I try to look serious, match his demeanor. I fail miserably and start to giggle as I mock salute.

“Ay ay, cap’n.” He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he likes it. He always likes it when Buffy comes out to play.

“You’re right pissed, luv.” He grins, jamming his hands in his pockets. Hey, is he moving? Oh no, it’s just the world rotating extra fast around me. Whoa.

“Nuh-uh. I’m not mad!” Again, eye roll. What did I do now?

“Not that kind of pissed, pet. I mean you’re drunk.”

My indignance flares up even further. Even though he’s right. “Nuh-uh!” I put my hands on my hips. Well, I try to. Hips are slippery and my hands slide right off. I try again, this time clutching quite hard.

“Whatever you say, Slayer. You up for this?” He cocks his head. Cuuute when he does that. No no. Not cute. Infuriating.

“’course I am. Not drunk. Jusht a little tipsy.” And lispy. Lispy, tipsy. Funny words…

“Right, right. Well, let’s take the motorcycle, it’s a bit of a hike to this place.”

I try not to squeal in excitement. Spike’s never taken me on the motorcycle before. And damn, I’ve really wanted to go for a ride. I just could never get myself to ask. I feign nonchalance.

“’kay.” I think the hopping and clapping blows my cover, though. Spike just chuckles, hands me my jacket and gestures to the door with a flourish and half bow.

“Your chariot awaits…”

“Wha? I thought we were taking the motorcycle!” The whine enters my voice without permission. Me wanna ride the…oh, a joke. Maybe I am drunk. “I mean, yeah okay.” Nice. That fooled him. Ha.

And for the thousandth time tonight, the smirk returns as we head for the door. I concentrate real hard on walking straight but whatever was in that flask has turned my knees to jelly. Suddenly, I feel a hand under my elbow, holding me steady. I let myself enjoy it for a moment before pulling away. Letting Spike touch me is still on the no-no list. Could give him…hell, could give me ideas. Change of subject is a good idea. “Where’s it parked?”

He looks a little wounded that I wouldn’t let him help me, but I just…well, old habits are hard to break. I smile at him and that seems to help. “Follow me, luv. Not too far.”

“Oh, I’ll follow…” Holy moley, I started to say that out loud. The downright lusty tone is not lost on him, dammit. I switch to innocent at whiplash speed. “you to the motorcycle.” His eyebrows furrow at my ridiculously obvious statement…and my obvious denial that I wanted to check out his rear view on the way to the bike.

I’m starting to wonder if this was such a hot idea after all… oh wait, he’s getting away!

“Coming!”

Spike slows down to wait for me. In fact, he stops completely and I crash right into him.

“Oops. Sorry, Spike.” I’m a little flustered and don’t move away from his leather-clad self quite fast enough. He’s just all…firm. I know this, why is this a revelation? He’s all sleek and muscle-y. Duh. I’ve been fighting with him for four years. So why does touching him now make me feel all shivery? Booze. Oh yeah, it’s the booze! That’s a relief.

I step back, hoping to death that the blush I feel did not make it to my cheeks. We drop back into step together and after a few minutes of a slightly more comfortable silence, Spike speaks without looking at me.

“You okay, luv?” He cuts his eyes at me quickly and then resumes looking ahead. I know we’ve gotten closer since I came back, but it’s still hard to remember, hard to really understand that he loves me, that he still loves me. And it comes out in these ways, in these small quiet moments.

“I’m trying to be.” We meet eyes and I give him a little smile. It would be nice if his smile wasn’t swimming in front of me. As mentioned, booze.

“Ah, here we are.” We arrive in front of the beat up motorcycle he apparently acquired the night I came back. Still haven’t heard that whole story, but I know he was sitting with Dawn. Looking after my little sis. I feel all warm inside and this time, I’m not so sure it’s the booze after all…

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Author's Note: Naturally, there are lines here and there borrowed from Life Serial in this and future chapters, as I am trying to mesh this fic into the episode. Enjoy! And leave reviews, if ya please! :) Tiana

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