Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, Mister Gordo
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Nekid Numbers: Spike + Buffy + Teddy Bear (Sorry I'm late! Life's been a bitch lately!)
Word Count: 812
Date Written: 2 July, 2016
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
It's some time after the destruction of Sunnydale that he notices the pink pig on her bed for the first time. He suspects he should have seen it long ago, but he's always been more focused on her than their surroundings when they've been together. Even in battle, it's hard to take his eyes off of her. He picks it up and handles it thoughtfully for it symbolizes yet another difference between his Slayer and the rest of the girls in the world. "A pig, huh?" Anybody else would have a teddy bear, but not his Buffy.
She shrugs. "Yeah." Her answer's simple enough, but her tone makes it clear that he's approaching fighting territory.
He places it carefully back where he found it. They've spent too much time fighting already. She's beautiful when she's kicking ass, but he doesn't especially relish the thought of getting his butt kicked again tonight. "I could get you a teddy bear," he offers casually, "with a cape and a set of fangs or a stake."
"Thanks, but Mister Gordo's good." She picks her old toy up in gentle hands, turns him over, and looks into his plush, pink face, and for a moment, Spike sees a glimmer of the girl she must have been before she moved to Sunnydale and he met her for the first time. "We go way back," she whispers. "He was my best friend before Dawn, before Sunnydale, before . . . everything."
She used to feel so alone. She doesn't say it, but he can tell just by standing, watching her, and listening to talk. She was an only child, after all, he remembers, before the Powers That Be decided to incorporate the Nibblet into her life as the sister she never actually had.
"He was my friend when . . . when my parents broke up, when . . . when my Dad decided he didn't want anything to do with me any more . . . " Her voice quavers; her chin wobbles.
Spike takes her gently into his arms and is careful not to squish Mister Gordo between them. "Then I owe Mister Gordo a debt of gratitude," he says softly, hugging her, "for being there for you before I met you, for being sure you'd still be around for me to meet."
She doesn't push him away. Instead, she steps closer, cradling Mister Gordo in her arms and letting Spike hold her. His gentility still surprises her sometimes, but she remembers now the man he told her he was before he was turned. He was a gentle soul once, a poet, and the others his age made fun of him just as those her age and younger would make fun of her for still holding on to her stuffed pig.
She quarrels silently with herself over telling him more. She could confess to him that Mister Gordo was the last present her father bought for her that wasn't his way of trying to win her over to his side or assuage his guilt over what he did to their family. It's funny, she thinks, her lips quivering. She can save the world time and again. She can stop any monster they throw at her. But she couldn't stop her father then or when she tried to visit him back in LA and reforge a relationship with him. She couldn't stop her family from being destroyed. She doesn't know when she started shaking, but she becomes aware of it was a tear escapes her control and slips down her cheek. She thinks of her mother and almost sobs.
Spike moves quickly, wrapping his arms so tightly around her that it's as though he thinks he can shield her from the world, but she's not crying because of the world. She's crying because of what's already happened, because of what she couldn't stop. He kisses the top of her blonde head. "I miss her, too," he whispers and leads her gently to her bed. He knew she'd break some time tonight; it's the anniversary of her mother's death, after all.
He holds her for hours as she cries. He hasn't held her like this since the night before the final fight in Sunnydale. It was an honor then, and it's an honor still. He holds her until she falls asleep, then looks down into the beady eyes of the stuffed pig. He goes to wrest it from her hands, but she clings tightly. He lets it stay and even whispers with a bit of a smirk, "Thank you, Mister Gordo." Buffy needed some one before him, some one before her little pack of Slayerettes. He just never would have thought, until tonight, that that some one was a stuffed pig; still, he's thankful for the consolence it gave her as he holds her himself through another teary night.