Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike Nekid Colour: Purple
Word Count: 1,575
Date Written: 21 August 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
She stares at the purple bruises littering his handsome face as she edges slowly closer to him. The bar is empty now, the other customers and workers both having fled during the fight. It shouldn’t have had to happen. This should have been easy, routine even, just coming to punch some answers out of Willy, but it hadn’t proved to be that way.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says gently, still gazing intently up at Spike. “I could’ve taken him.” She looks at the normal, human man on the floor and wonders how he managed to get here in a bar filled with Demons and other Supernatural beings, and how he managed to get here, survive, and still be so ridiculously stupid.
“Nobody says those things about you,” Spike growls, flicking a bit of blood from his cheek and sucking it off his thumb.
“I can fight my own battles.” She knows she sounds like she’s complaining. She doesn’t mean to be, but that brawl really had not been necessary.
“Never said you couldn’t, luv.” Spike’s face lifts as he smirks at her. “‘Sides, you’re the one who ended up knocking him out.”
“The idiot shouldn’t have taken out a stake when you were pulling punches to fight him like a man!”
Spike stares at her, obviously surprised now. His blonde head cocks slightly to one side as he asks softly, “You knew?”
“Of course I knew. Why do you think I didn’t interrupt you sooner? It wasn’t ego that made you fight, and you didn’t kick his butt just because he was annoying you. You didn’t like what he said about me. You . . . “ She smiles, her mind flashing back on a Halloween several years ago when, for a short time, she had felt like a true lady. Spike had made her feel that way again tonight. This time, she smirks as she returns to the present. “You defended my honor.”
“Damn straight.” He licks more blood from his fingertips, and for the first time, she’s not grossed out or even angry that it’s human blood he’s licking. He earned those drops fair and square, after all, meeting his enemy, who had become his enemy simply because of what he’d had to say about her, on his own terms and even allowing the punk to get some good shots in on his poor face.
She closes the distance between them and gingerly touches the bruises on his face. She knows they look worse than they are. “They’re be gone by tomorrow,” she whispers, reminding herself.
Spike smirks again. “They’re be gone by sunrise.”
“It’s a good thing,” she comments thoughtfully, “that we have these super fast healing factors. Can you imagine what we would look like otherwise, with all the fighting we do?”
He reaches out and takes her right hand in his left. He lifts it to his dark lips and kisses it gently. For the first time since Drusilla sired him centuries ago, he can feel poetry beginning to bubble in his head. He no longer has a poet’s soul -- he no longer has a soul at all --, but somehow, in this moment, he can’t help thinking he could write poetry again for her. He can do anything for her. “You’d be beautiful any way,” he whispers softly, huskily, “even covered with bruises.”
As she smiles again, her eyes search his, and she’s surprised to see he believes his words. There are so many levels to this man she’s still discovering. She looks down, unable to bear keeping their intense connection with their eyes. “Well, let’s not find out.”
His right hand rises and cups his cheek. Her mind knows his skin should feel cold, but it doesn’t, not tonight, not to her. She looks up at his warm touch as he caresses her, back up into his deep, emotional eyes, and feels herself melting again. The side of this man she’s seen tonight isn’t the Big Bad she used to fight. He’s a very layered guy, and he’s choosing the walk the line of good not just because of the chip in his head but because of her.
“We won’t find out,” he vows. “I’ll never let ‘em get you that bad.”
Her smile almost turns sarcastic, because she knows he doesn’t have the power to fight what she has to face as a Slayer. She almost tells him that. Almost, but he says the words with such conviction that she knows he might fail trying to help her stay safe in this crazy world one night, but he’ll damn sure never stop trying or fighting with everything he’s got as long as she lets him.
She looks down again at the man on the floor. “You could have killed him,” she whispers.
“I know.” She looks back up at him, her long, blonde ponytail swinging behind her. “Because you weren’t fighting with everything you have. You were pulling punches, because you knew he was human and knew how I’d react if you didn’t. He never would’ve touched you otherwise.”
Spike smirks rather proudly. “Got that right.”
She steps closer still to him so that their mouths are only a breath apart. Still gazing up into his eyes, she confirms, “And that’s what really makes what you just did so damn sexy.”
He grins. “Sexy, was it?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know it was.”
“Yeah,” he admits, “but I like to hear it.”
She reaches up and grabs the hand that’s still caressing her face in slow, smooth motions. “How about I show you how I feel about it instead?”
He gives her his answer in a broad grin. Buffy wastes no more time. She presses her lips to his, slides her tongue into his mouth, wraps it around his, and kisses him deeply. She’s a Slayer, The Slayer, actually, with a capital ‘T’. She doesn’t need a man to come to her rescue. She’s the one who’s supposed to be doing all the saving, not just of the innocents and the not-so innocents as circumstances may call for but of the whole damn world. But, still, sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded she doesn’t have to fight the never-ending battle alone.
Xander saved her life once. Giles did so another time. She wouldn’t have made it as far ashe has if not for her friends. She’s thankful to each and every one of them for that and so many reasons, but as nice as it is to know her friends have her back and her sides when she needs them, tonight was nice in its own, special way.
She would have just disregarded the ugly words the human guy who didn’t know her had been spouting, but Spike hadn’t been able to. He could have broke his neck with a simple snap of his hand, but she would never have forgiven herself for allowing him to kill him. But instead of killing him, he’d fought him, pulling back his own strength and using no more strength than what a normal human man would have possessed. And still, he’d beaten him. Still, he’d shut him up. Still, he’d defended her honor and for the first time in a very long time made her feel like a woman, instead of a Slayer, again.
She can fight her own fights, but it’s nice to know she doesn’t always have to. It’s amazing to realize that somebody cares about her so much that he hadn’t been able to tolerate the ugly language that human man had used but also, because he cared about her so much, he’d gone about shutting him up in a way she could argue very little over. He’d kept his word to her, kept his promise to her, and although it had hurt his poor head like Hell to strike a human, which, she knows, is part of the reason why, at the start of their fight, the guy had actually been pummeling her Spike, Spike had seen the fight through and beaten him into silence. The guy could have ran when her man had been holding his head, but he hadn’t. He’d just kept coming at her verbally, and Spike, in turn, had kept coming at him until he’d beaten him.
He lets her take the lead tonight without arguing. He lets her pull him around as she bounces up, backwards, onto the bar. He lets her lead him, and for the first time, Buffy realizes, what he’s been telling her for a long time now is true. He will follow her anywhere. She’s just got to be careful where she leads them, but for tonight, for at least a little, she’s just a girl, he’s just her man, and she loves him like a normal woman would -- but with all her heart, something she’s never seen a “normal” couple do before and yet that she already knows will pave the way for them in the future.
Almost completely lost in Buffy, Spike almost doesn’t hear the groan behind him, but he does catch it as it grows a little louder. He kicks backwards, knocking the guy back out, and continues making love to the woman for whom he’s fallen so hard. Hell, yeah, he thinks, just before he lets himself be flooded over by the passion between them, he’ll follow this woman anywhere, do whatever she wants, and yeah, even write poetry for her.