An Englishman in New York
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,086
Reviews:
76
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
6,086
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.
Love Ridden
A/N: This chapter was my big sister's idea.
Love Ridden
Spike honestly didn’t know why he’d left the picture of Drusilla out for Buffy, and he didn’t want to think about why he’d done it. Perhaps he was still annoyed about finding pictures of that poof. As much as he would have liked to convince himself that that was the reason, he knew it wasn’t. What happened to not thinking about it, you git?
No, the reason was much more complex. He wanted Buffy to see her face, because she would never meet her in person. It was his strange way of reaffirming that she had in fact existed. Drusilla had been a real woman, the love of his life, and now she was gone.
He immediately silenced his thoughts when they took such an abrupt turn for the worst. He needed to think of something else – he needed to start a fight. Luckily for him, there was a fight lurking right around the corner.
“You slept with Buffy Summers on the first night of school?!”
“Easy as pie,” said Parker, looking quite pleased with himself.
“Are you gonna see her again?” his friend, a reed-thin Asian man wearing glasses and carrying a Ghost in the Shell messenger bag, asked.
“Nah. Fun was had, no doubt, and she has the stamina of the Energizer Bunny, but she got all… What’s the word?”
“Clingy?”
“Exactly. I still can’t believe she feel for the old my-parents-were-in-a-car-wreck line. I swear, with as much as women talk, you’d think they would know better than to fall for that shit.”
“Hell, I’m glad they don’t. That’s the only way I’ll ever get any.”
“I dunno, man, just give Buffy a sad-eyed look and she might screw you. I pretty much had her when I sat down at –”
Parker never finished that sentence; before he realized what had happened, a fist connected with his jaw at the same moment as a knee slammed against his groin. He made a noise that vaguely resembled the squeak of a mouse and remained still so as not to be attacked again.
“Oh, that shit had to hurt!”
“Yeah, you want your turn?” Spike shot back, absently popping his knuckles. He would like nothing more than to pummel the wanker into the ground until his head split on the pavement, but he didn’t want to add a murder to his arrest record.
“No way, dude. No fucking way!”
“S’what I thought.” Leaving Parker writhing and squeaking as his friend looked on, he stalked off to collect his guitar. He had left it sitting on a bench nearby, and after his little display, he sincerely doubted that anyone would be stupid enough to take it.
Vaguely wondering if he would be expelled for what he’d done, he strode off in the direction of Oz and Xander’s apartment. He found it odd that the redhead’s redheaded girlfriend roomed with another girl rather than staying with him. In fact, he thought something wonky was going on between Willow and Tara – the sexy kind of wonky.
He quickly made the journey to the band’s apartment, again finding the door cracked. That’s not very bloody safe in New York City, he thought. Must be Oz who leaves it open, I don’t think Xander’s a very brave guy.
“Hey,” greeted the redhead, already strumming his guitar.
“Hey,” Spike returned. It was a relief being with his kind – musicians. They were a separate breed from normal humans, and they knew it. Whether talkative or cryptic, they had their own ways of communicating, such as the look of imminent death Xander cast his way.
“Spike?” Willow asked incredulously. “This is your new singer?”
“Yup,” the band said simultaneously.
“I just heard from Buffy,” the girl continued, passing out drinks and snacks to the band members. “She said that her new friend Parker called her and said a Billy Idol wanna-be sort of… pummeled him. Spike, did –”
“Yup.”
This time, even Oz looked taken aback.
“Look,” Spike said, trying his best to sound reasonable. He set his guitar down and walked over to the red haired girl so he could whisper in her ear. “He’s not her friend. He was talkin’ to some wanker about shaggin’ her and it annoyed me. That’s it. It’s done.”
Willow’s first response was a squeak, but then she nodded her understanding. “I… I’ll explain that to Buffy.”
“It’s nothing, Red,” he muttered, grabbing a can of Coke as he returned to stand with the others. Any decent bloke would’ve done the same, and some not so decent ones since I did it.
As the band went through their set, a very confused red haired Wicca made a phone call to her equally confused blonde friend.
Love Ridden
Spike honestly didn’t know why he’d left the picture of Drusilla out for Buffy, and he didn’t want to think about why he’d done it. Perhaps he was still annoyed about finding pictures of that poof. As much as he would have liked to convince himself that that was the reason, he knew it wasn’t. What happened to not thinking about it, you git?
No, the reason was much more complex. He wanted Buffy to see her face, because she would never meet her in person. It was his strange way of reaffirming that she had in fact existed. Drusilla had been a real woman, the love of his life, and now she was gone.
He immediately silenced his thoughts when they took such an abrupt turn for the worst. He needed to think of something else – he needed to start a fight. Luckily for him, there was a fight lurking right around the corner.
“You slept with Buffy Summers on the first night of school?!”
“Easy as pie,” said Parker, looking quite pleased with himself.
“Are you gonna see her again?” his friend, a reed-thin Asian man wearing glasses and carrying a Ghost in the Shell messenger bag, asked.
“Nah. Fun was had, no doubt, and she has the stamina of the Energizer Bunny, but she got all… What’s the word?”
“Clingy?”
“Exactly. I still can’t believe she feel for the old my-parents-were-in-a-car-wreck line. I swear, with as much as women talk, you’d think they would know better than to fall for that shit.”
“Hell, I’m glad they don’t. That’s the only way I’ll ever get any.”
“I dunno, man, just give Buffy a sad-eyed look and she might screw you. I pretty much had her when I sat down at –”
Parker never finished that sentence; before he realized what had happened, a fist connected with his jaw at the same moment as a knee slammed against his groin. He made a noise that vaguely resembled the squeak of a mouse and remained still so as not to be attacked again.
“Oh, that shit had to hurt!”
“Yeah, you want your turn?” Spike shot back, absently popping his knuckles. He would like nothing more than to pummel the wanker into the ground until his head split on the pavement, but he didn’t want to add a murder to his arrest record.
“No way, dude. No fucking way!”
“S’what I thought.” Leaving Parker writhing and squeaking as his friend looked on, he stalked off to collect his guitar. He had left it sitting on a bench nearby, and after his little display, he sincerely doubted that anyone would be stupid enough to take it.
Vaguely wondering if he would be expelled for what he’d done, he strode off in the direction of Oz and Xander’s apartment. He found it odd that the redhead’s redheaded girlfriend roomed with another girl rather than staying with him. In fact, he thought something wonky was going on between Willow and Tara – the sexy kind of wonky.
He quickly made the journey to the band’s apartment, again finding the door cracked. That’s not very bloody safe in New York City, he thought. Must be Oz who leaves it open, I don’t think Xander’s a very brave guy.
“Hey,” greeted the redhead, already strumming his guitar.
“Hey,” Spike returned. It was a relief being with his kind – musicians. They were a separate breed from normal humans, and they knew it. Whether talkative or cryptic, they had their own ways of communicating, such as the look of imminent death Xander cast his way.
“Spike?” Willow asked incredulously. “This is your new singer?”
“Yup,” the band said simultaneously.
“I just heard from Buffy,” the girl continued, passing out drinks and snacks to the band members. “She said that her new friend Parker called her and said a Billy Idol wanna-be sort of… pummeled him. Spike, did –”
“Yup.”
This time, even Oz looked taken aback.
“Look,” Spike said, trying his best to sound reasonable. He set his guitar down and walked over to the red haired girl so he could whisper in her ear. “He’s not her friend. He was talkin’ to some wanker about shaggin’ her and it annoyed me. That’s it. It’s done.”
Willow’s first response was a squeak, but then she nodded her understanding. “I… I’ll explain that to Buffy.”
“It’s nothing, Red,” he muttered, grabbing a can of Coke as he returned to stand with the others. Any decent bloke would’ve done the same, and some not so decent ones since I did it.
As the band went through their set, a very confused red haired Wicca made a phone call to her equally confused blonde friend.