||[Jun. 6th, 2004|04:33 am]
Freeform RPGing Amongst Friends
Characters: Buffy and Spike
Players: Dawn and Xan
Setting: Spike's crypt, just shortly after "Afterlife" in Season 6 (AU of course)
Summary: Buffy needs some comfort and Spike delivers...until he gets cocky and ruins the moment as only he can.
Buffy trudged along the cemetary, stake in her hand, towards Spike's crypt. Her pleather coat crinkled with every movement. No one else knew what it was like to be alive and not quite alive. She didn't care to fight vampires right now. Didn't care to celebrate with Xander and Anya over their upcoming wedding. She hesitated for a moment outside the door before knocking loudly.
Spike was lounged in his armchair, watching some sort of sitcom rerun on the television. "Oh I wonder who that could be?" he mused almost cheerfully under his breath when he heard the knock. He pushed himself up out of his chair and walked over to the door. He pulled it open. "Already done with a hard night's work?" he asked, nodding at the very sharp object in Buffy's hand.
"Didn't feel like it," Buffy said, glancing inside his crypt. "Mind if I come in? Get away from the nasties for a bit?" She shook one of her braided pigtails over her shoulder, her arms crossing over her chest.
"Oh. Yeah," he said, realising dumbly that he'd been occupying the doorway. He moved out of the way and gestured her in. "I was beginning to wonder why it was so quiet this time of night."
Buffy ignored whatever connotations he might have meant, her brain wasn't exactly functioning properly. More shoddy craftsmanship on bringing her back. She wasn't going to say anything, though. "What were you watching?" she asked, walking over to the television set.
"Just some boring show that's supposed to be funny," Spike said with an annoyed look as he closed the door and walked over to where she was. "Passions won't be on for a few more hours." He reached over and turned off the television. "I know you didn't come here to watch the telly."
Buffy looked up at him sharply, eyebrows furrowed. "How do you know I didn't want to just watch the telly.. vision."
Spike smirked down at her presumptuously. "Well I'm right, aren't I?"
Buffy frowned, sinking onto a long bench. "I just.. didn't want to be - " she motioned towards his door " - out there. And it's nice here."
Spike looked around the room and shrugged. "Yeah, it is." He sat down on the bench next to her, but not near enough to be invading her personal space, his elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped together loosely. He didn't say anything, but just looked over at her. If she wanted to talk she'd talk. If not...she was still there, and that was something in and of itself.
"You..." Buffy said with a slight frown. "You haven't told anyone, have you?" She turned to look at him, turning her knees so she was facing him. If anyone told me this time last year, I'd come to Spike for comfort, I would have dusted him on sight.
Spike shook his head slowly. "You told me not to," he said quietly, his eyes searching hers. He still didn't know what to say.
Buffy looked at him sadly even though there was a bit of anger behind her eyes. Not towards him. Just the situation as it was. "Just wanted to make sure," she mumbled, looking down at her hands and smiling ruefully. After a moment's pause, she glanced back up at him. "Thank you," she told him quietly, making sure that as she said it, she was looking him straight in the eyes.
Spike held her gaze until he realised he was beginning to lean towards her. He quickly looked down at his hands and grinned at her, sitting up a bit straighter on the bench. "Well yeah, it's nothing, you know," he said a bit awkwardly before he realised he was looking into her eyes again. But he didn't want to look away this time. It's not like she was going to dust him for a little accidental leaning.
Buffy turned her gaze to the stone floor, a despondent look covering her features. She forced a small laugh. "Not really nothing," she said, twisting her fingers awkwardly before she put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up. Her arms slid across her chest again, as she looked around his crypt. "I like what you've done with it.."
Spike stood up almost automatically. "Thanks," he said, trying to sound as happy as was possible given the dismal air. "You should see the downstairs, very posh...well compared to before anyway. I like it."
"Yeah?" Buffy asked, turning to look at him. "There's no.. shrine to Buffy down there anymore?"
Spike raised an eyebrow at her, his jaw set indignantly. "D'you want to see it or not?"
Buffy tightened her grip across her chest. "You're all bad moody. Show me," she said slowly, with a small smirk on her face.
Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head at her before leading the way down the ladder to the lower level. He grinned proudly as his eyes scanned the room. "The place cleaned up nice," he said, making his way over to the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress.
Buffy jumped down off the ladder, turning and brushing her hands off. She nodded numbly, looking around. "Some paint and spackle and this place could be really nice," she quipped. "What exactly IS spackle anyway?"
"You don't know what sp-...? Nevermind. Yeah, it's not as nice as your place, but I'm not trying to fool anyone into thinking it's a proper house," Spike said, raising his eyebrow at her again. "It's good enough for a me anyway."
"I bet it's not as costly as my house is either," Buffy said with a heavy sigh. "I don't know how I'm going to pay off all the debt that Willow and the gang charged up while I was dead."
"You'll work it out somehow, Buffy. You have a way of doing that," Spike said, giving her an odd appraising sort of look, as though he'd just noticed her standing there in front of him.
Buffy turned to look at him, her eyes sad and pleading. "Why didn't they just let me stay dead?" she asked him, as though he might have an answer. "I mean, people die all the time. Why couldn't I just stay dead?"
Spike looked down. Bloody hell. "What do you want me to say, Buffy?" He looked up at her. "Even knowing what you said, about where you were...I'm not going say I'm sorry you didn't stay dead."
"I know," she said quietly, moving to sit down beside him on the bed. "I'm not asking you to say you're sorry." Buffy put her head in her hands. "I don't know what I'm saying."
"You don't always have to know what you're saying," Spike said quietly. Not that you know what you're saying either, mate, he thought wryly. Before he could think any better of it his hand was rubbing her back reassuringly.
Buffy didn't move, but her gaze dropped to her lap. "What was it like? When you became a vampire?"
Spike's hand paused on her back as he drudged up quite a few memories he didn't feel like reliving at present. Most of those thoughts had to do with Drusilla...heart-breaking bint. "You don't want to be a vampire," he said instead of answering her question.
"I know. Just.. was it like being torn out.. of your body?" Buffy said, looking at him again.
"Sort of...yeah. I never really thought about it like that before," Spike said slowly, looking her in the eyes as he tried to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. "It's not exactly a warm fuzzy feeling, that's for sure."
"Like living in the world is so warm and fuzzy anyway," Buffy said with a false laugh. She didn't want to bring him down, didn't want to continue on this train of conversation. The more she talked about it, the more she felt the pain of being torn out of heaven. She folded her hands together, pinning them between her knees "I'm sorry. I just don't have anywhere else to go. Don't want to go anywhere else, I mean."
Spike's eyes widened for a split second before he smiled warmly at her. "You know you can stay here as long as you like," he said, unable to keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. He resumed rubbing her back slowly, his hand pausing on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling her a bit closer to him.
Buffy didn't say anything. She couldn't find the words to tell him how grateful she was that he wasn't asking her to be cheerful or happy. She let him pull her closer, without moving any closer than he was tugging her. "I just don't want to pretend.. and I don't have to.. here."
Spike nodded, content to have his arm around her and to know that she actually wanted to be there with him. God her hair smelled good.
"So what happened.. when I was gone? Did Brad Pitt get divorced yet?" Buffy said, subtley moving away from him slightly. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea - though, she wasn't sure what idea she had anyway.
"I don't think so," Spike said with a chuckle. "Bet he would if he knew he had a chance with the Slayer." He smirked at her playfully.
Buffy crookedly smiled at that, nudging him lightly with her elbow. "Thanks for that. I still look pretty good for corpse, huh?"
"Yeah," he said honestly, taking the opportunity to look her up and down in an exaggerated manner. He was still giving her a playful smirk.
Buffy lowered her head and looked up at Spike from under her eyelashes. She smirked lightly.
"Can I kiss you?" Spike blurted out. He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. Not only that but it'd prove whether or not she was just being a tease. And this warm fuzzy moment was just too good to go on for too long without someone ballsing it up anyway.
Buffy's features went slack with shock. She blinked a few times, her brow furrowing and unfurrowing sharply. Yes, her mind told her, it would be something other than hurt. And he did ask. Nicely, too! But her mouth wouldn't move. She was still looking at him from under her lashes, her eyes darting to his lips. Something in the back of her head told her it was wrong; she couldn't kiss Spike. It was Spike for crying out loud!
Spike raised his eyebrows at her. An amused smile tugged threateningly at the corners of his mouth as he watched her face. In his mind she as much as said yes by not moving away. "Or maybe it should be you asking to kiss me?" he said quietly.
Buffy frowned, raising an eyebrow. She leaned her elbows back onto the bed, still looking at him. This time, she was not amused. "Looks like you just blew your chance."
Yep, completely ballsed it up. Spike smiled resolutely and put his hand behind him on the bed, leaning on it and turned to face Buffy. "So I had a chance."
"In your dreams," Buffy retorted, rolling her eyes. He really had a chance and mucked it up by being an arrogant jerk about it. She turned her head so she was staring at the cave walls.
"Yeah. And in my dreams you're not such a bloody tease," Spike said with a grin.
"You're a pig, Spike," Buffy said, pushing herself up off the bed. She made like she was going to the ladder. She really just wanted him to shut up. The more he talked, the more he ruined the mood.
"Buffy, wait--" he said quickly, leaning back up and grabbing her arm to keep her from going.
Buffy pursed her lips, looking down at him as she crossed her arms across her chest once again. "Gonna dazzle me with more of your insights? You know, for a moment there.. I thought you were going to act like a real person."
Spike looked up at her, befuddled. Because demons act like 'real people' all the time, Slayer, he thought snidely. "You're the one showed up here, remember?" He leaned back on his elbows on the bed and looked at her expectantly. She couldn't deny that, not after saying she wanted to be there.
"That was before you started acting like a Mongoloid," Buffy said, sarcastic look still in place. "I should probably get out there and slay some of the vamps who aren't neutered puppy dogs."
Spike stood up and loomed over her, a deep scowl etched into his features. "All I was doing was being nice to you, Slayer," he said in a low voice. He opened his mouth to say something else, but for some godforsaken reason couldn't come up with a decent retort. This is absolute SHIT. You ARE just a bloody neutered puppy. Great. Can't even verbally abuse the Slayer properly. He started to say something else but that wasn't any good either, so he set his jaw and smiled wryly at her. She was just going to leave now anyway. Same as always: barge in, make Spike feel like a fool, leave.
"Nice?" Buffy exclaimed. He calls that nice? Making me feel like an idiot for wanting him to kiss me when he can't even do it! She swallowed hard, blinking. "I don't want your pity." Having said the only thing that came to mind, she turned around and made for the ladder - slower than she usually would, in case he wanted to stop her - putting one foot up on it.
"I think you have me confused with your little pals. I don't pity you for dying. And I sure as hell don't pity you for coming back," Spike scoffed angrily. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest as he watched her put her foot on the ladder. Just bloody leave already if you're going to do it. Bloody annoying tease.
Buffy tossed him a scathing look and climbed up the ladder, pulling herself up quickly. She hurried across the crypt, grabbing a hold of the bottle of liquor and throwing it across the room. It shattered with a loud crash, drenching the side of the crypt.
"What the bloody hell?" Spike muttered to himself and hurried over to the ladder. "Oi! Don't break the telly!" he shouted up to her.
Buffy narrowed her eyes, eyeing the television. "Don't break the television, huh?" she called loudly, walking over and grabbing a vase. She wasn't completely heartless. She raised the vase high over her head and threw it down onto the stone floor. "Word of advice? Don't give away your weakness." There. That oughta panic him for at least a minute.
What a bitch! "That's completely unfair!" he called out as he climbed up the ladder as quickly as possible. "Now I'm going to miss Pass-...oh." Once he was halfway to where she was standing he noticed the television was completely unharmed. "That's not funny."
Buffy crossed her arms again, a deep set smirk on her face. "I dunno know. I thought it was a knee-slapper!"
Spike pointed at the door. "If you're just going to smash things, then get out."
Buffy's smirk faded into the dull expression she usually wore these days. She turned without a word and slipped out into the cemetary quickly.
Spike shook his head at nothing in particular as he turned the TV back on and plopped down into his armchair. He fished his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket. She'd be back. Eventually.