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His Guard

Title: His Guard
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Buffy, Potentials
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words: Day 26:
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 865
Date Written: 29 August 2017
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.





“Hold it right there,” Spike snarls, stepping in front of his own people -- or, at least, they had been his own people and still thought they were from the way some of them grinned at him and their leader took a respectful step back.

“You want them, Spike?” he asks.

Spike grins, realizing that this group of young Vamps have heard his legend but haven’t heard that he’s with the Slayer now.

“They’re already mine,” he says.

“That’s fine, but can’t we have one or two to play with?” the leader asks.

“We can find another group of young teenagers,” offers another in their group.

“Yeah, man, but they won’t have the power these chicks have. Can’t you feel it?”

“Oh, I feel it!” croons one of the girls with long, dark hair that reminds Spike of Drusilla. “It’s radiating off of them, singing to me!”

“We’ll take our snacks elsewhere.”

“We’re not fighting him for these meals or any other!”

“Yeah, we’ll just find some other teenagers . . . “

“Shut it, man! Who says he’s got first dibs? Maybe those whispers we’ve been hearing are right. Maybe he’s gone soft.”

Spike’s smile twists, turns, and grows larger at that comment. It sends chills racing down several spines. “I’ve not gone soft,” he tells them, “but I’m afraid I can’t let you have these girls -- or any others.”

“Bullshit!”

“Told he’s gone soft!”

Spike flicks his wrist, releasing a stake that barrels straight into the heart of the last one to speak. “I’m not soft,” he repeats. “I’m just on a different side.”

Several pairs of eyes widen at that comment. They whisper amongst themselves, both agreeing and disagreeing, no one daring to be too loud or to otherwise come forward until their leader speaks again. “Then you should be ready to fight.”

“Oh, I’m ready, but you’re not. You try to touch one hair on these girls heads, though, and you’ll find out just how fast I can stake your ass.”

“What’s so special about these chicks anyway?”

“Yeah. Why do they feel like they’re so powerful when they’re obviously scared stupid?”

“Oh, they’re not stupid, but they are scared. They’re smart to be scared, but you’d be smart to be scared of them.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Spike’s grin widens again. “You ever meet a Slayer before?”

They look at the girls in confusion. A few try to guess which one is the Slayer. “They’re all Slayers,” Spike stops them before they can choose aloud, “every last one of them or potential Slayers at least.”

“Potentials.” One of the newer Vampires spits at the ground. “Means they ain’t the real thing. We can take ‘em.”

“And we can take you,” another adds.

“You’re welcome to try.” Spike waits for them to make the first move, but their leader suddenly sucks in his breath. A few of the Vampires begin to fall back. Spike doesn’t have to look behind him to know Buffy’s arrived. “What’s it gonna be?” he asks, almost teasingly.

The leader turns around, and with one word shouted at the top of his lungs, “RUN!”, the group of Vampires takes off.

Spike doesn’t move. “After ‘em,” he commands softly. Most of the girls give immediate chase; a few are slower. He reaches out a hand to stop Buffy before she can race pass him. “They have to learn,” he reminds her gently.

“But -- “

“They can take these punks separately. I know they can, and we’re here if they can’t.”

She looks at him, a grin chasing over her lips that he wants to kiss so badly. His own mental reminder that the girls might need them after all surprises him. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the fight. She follows beside him, but it turns out that he’s right: The potentials don’t need any help with this particular group of younger Vampires.

“I saw you,” Buffy says gently after the Vampires are staked and the Potentials are celebrating safely back in the house, “come running to defend them.”

“I smelled you,” he admits, “but I didn’t see you.”

“I know.”

He looks into her green eyes that seem so deep and luminous tonight. “Testing me?”

Her lips twist, as though she wants to smile but is not certain she should. “Are you mad at me?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head as he cups his hands around her beautiful face and runs his fingers through her long, blonde hair. “Not tonight.”

“I needed to know,” Buffy admits, “if something happened to me . . . “

“Would I protect them?”

She nods, bites her bottom lip shyly, and almost brings a moan from him. He strokes her hair, tingling inside and barely holding back his impulses. “You know I’ll do anything you ask me to.” His palms come to rest on her cheeks, and he turns her head up so that her eyes again meet his. “But nothing’s going to happen to you,” he vows. “I won’t let it.” He kisses her long and deep. Each powerful kiss soothes away another fear until, for tonight at least, Buffy’s obliged to believe him and lets herself melt in the safety of his arms.




The End

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