The Artifact: Chapter Fifteen
We're almost done! Only four chapters after this one! Will I be conscientious enough to post it all by New Year's Eve? Stay tuned!
In this chapter, Spike gets a prezzie! (And so does Glory.)
Also this might be the spuffiest thing I have ever written.
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Fifteen: Intervention
Buffy found Spike rooting through her weapon chest the next morning. The house was a wreck, and he was wrecking it more, tossing blades and crossbows over the sofa. “Hey? Home invasion much?”
Spike laid a blade against his palm like he was testing its weight. He tossed it aside. “Don’t you have any magic swords?”
“What with the huh? Is there a magic-sword emergency I should know about?”
He half-shrugged. “You can feel them, the magic ones. Kinda burn, kinda itch.” He tossed another sword aside and the chest was empty. He looked depressed.
Buffy picked up her very best sword - thank you very much - and lovingly laid it back in its place. “New rule: Don’t come into my house and mess up my stuff unless there’s an apocalypse.”
“Sorry,” he said, quietly, and that wasn’t Spike-like in the least so it made her stop and stare at him.
He shifted and fidgeted, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s just… it was a magic sword, yeah?” He fingered his eyebrow. Was that a safety pin in his skin? EW. He finally looked at her. “I need a magic sword to get my scar back.”
“That’s stupid,” Buffy said, meaning anything but.
“Just want to look like myself again.”
“You don’t have a reflection. You DO look like yourself.” He looked miserable. She put the crossbow back next, since it was largest. “Let’s check Giles’ stash.”
***
It wasn’t like they were exchanging promise rings or some bollocks like that, but something had shifted in the way Buffy looked at him. It was… softer. When she casually touched him, her hand lingered instead of pulling back.
Buffy handed him the first knife. He touched it and shook his head. She set it back and handed him the next.
It was good. It was strange. Was this… affection? Friendship? Courtship? Spike was a little perplexed by it, but at the same time, if you didn’t get to do something completely new now and then, what was eternity for?
“Ah, hot!” Spike dropped the next dagger. It glinted on the floor, a narrow thing with a scrolling Spanish inscription. Damascus steel. Flowery Cavalier-era handle. Spike toed it and flipped it over. No cross or other religious symbols to cause the burning. He shook his hand. “I think we have a winner.”
Buffy picked the dagger up and frowned at it. “So… how do we…”
Spike touched his brow. He knelt, so his head would be at an easy height for her. “Just… right where the pin is, sort of that angle. Oh, um…” He unhooked the pin. The skin gripped it as he pulled it out. But, hopefully, there were two wee red marks on either side of the eyebrow to guide Buffy. It felt odd… no, wrong, sitting there, waiting to be hit by the slayer.
He looked up. Buffy shook her head. “Shouldn’t we, like, do this in battle or something?”
Spike felt his chest swell. “That’s my girl!”
Soon enough they routed a nest of vamps passing a joint behind the Shady Acre’s mausoleum. He wanted to ask her how she was planning on cutting him but that felt awkward and there was all that lovely violence to deal with.
The vampire he was strangling vanished in a puff of smoke and as he stumbled forward, he felt a sharp, burning cut on his brow. He looked up to see Buffy above him, the knife curled back.
“I…”
Buffy jumped high and decapitated the last vampire with a stunning spin-kick.
In the quiet of settling dust, she pointed at him, still holding the knife. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
She started walking back to the front of the cemetery. “Anything flowery or rhyming, for one. I’m a little afraid to let you near anything as sappy as ‘thank you.’”
Spike said, “It was you.”
Buffy turned in mid-step. “Huh?”
Spike shrugged. “You asked, back a bit, how come I’m still me, yeah? How I got through all that nasty slave business without breaking. I couldn’t answer before, but now I can, I guess. Because I trust you.” He shrugged and gestured at the ground. “We’re back to killing things together, so we shouldn’t keep things bottled up between us. And yeah. It was you. You got me through it all.”
Buffy looked down. She tucked her knife behind her and shook her head. “I didn’t, though. I fell asleep after the battle and didn’t get to Giles until the next morning!”
She looked so upset, and all for him. He cupped her cheek. “Doesn’t matter how long it took - I knew you’d come for me, yeah? That kept me going - knowing I had a hero looking out for me.”
Were those tears? Glittering in her eyes? For him? He brushed one away with his thumb. “There now, love, don’t cry.”
Buffy bit her lip, she almost shook her head, and half opened and closed her mouth, like she was having trouble deciding what to say. “I want to kiss you,” she said.
Spike grinned and brought his face close to hers. She stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. “I don’t know if it’s okay, that I want that. Or if…”
“It’s all right,” Spike said, almost laughing, but she still held him off.
“I mean for me as well as for you. I know you’re okay with kissage. You’ve always been more than okay with kissage and not shy about it. I’m not sure I am. I’m not sure what I’m feeling for you is healthy.”
“It’s not meant to be,” he said, and he kissed her, gently. He pulled back to see her looking a little surprised. “Was that so bad?”
She answered by pulling him down for a harder kiss.
***
“Buffy, I was hoping to find you,” Giles followed the sound of fighting into the cemetery and quickly put a mark in the book he was studying. “I may have found a clue as to…” he looked up and his voice trailed off.
Buffy and Spike were standing in a clearing between grave markers, kissing.
Giles took off his glasses and put them back on. “Uh… Buffy?” No response. He cleared his throat. No response. He took a few steps forward and in his loudest voice said, “Good lord, this isn’t a spell again, is it?”
Buffy and Spike broke apart like caught-out teens, which was exactly what they resembled. Spike had blood on his cheek and a smear of lipstick on his mouth.
“Uh,” Spike said. “There was… something… something evil on my… uh, lips?”
“Don’t help,” Buffy hissed.
“No,” Giles said. “By all means, help me understand what I just witnessed.”
“I’ll, uh. I’ll go,” Spike said.
“The hell you will,” Giles said.
Buffy stepped forward. “Take the Giles alarm down a notch. All right: I kissed Spike. We kissed. There was kissage. It was a moment, and it’s none of your business.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Still not your business?” Buffy held her hands out.
Giles wanted to drag her home and ground her for eternity. But she wasn’t a child. Had never been HIS child. Instead he turned his wrath on the vampire. “You should have stopped her.”
Spike blinked. “What?”
“Buffy is in a vulnerable emotional state. You are old enough to know better.”
Buffy said, “Oh wow. Now my boyfriend gets to make my decisions for me, too?”
Spike got a ridiculous smile on his face at the word ‘boyfriend’. Giles could see no path at all to victory in this confrontation. He tucked his book under his arm. “I’ve found some information on Glory. Come see me at your first convenience, if you care at all about stopping her.”
Giles felt the silence behind him. Good. That was at least a strong parting shot.
***
Spike was walking on air. The fizzy burn on his eyebrow brought back delightful memories. He couldn’t wait to check his look in the photo booth outside the drugstore.
Better yet, Buffy had, no matter how vociferously she’d denied it afterward, called him her boyfriend, and she’d kissed him and didn’t stake him afterward. Those were two things he never thought he’d see. It was time to celebrate.
It was worth braving the scorching sun to sell a few gems at the jewelry shop on Main. They took all the gold chains, too, though they no doubt robbed him blind.
A haircut and dye job later, Spike was happily stocking his fridge and pantry with pig’s blood and whiskey, respectively, when Xander kicked in the door. Well, that was unexpected.
“You’re disgusting,” Xander said.
That wasn’t. Spike closed the fridge and folded his arms. “What did I do this time? Threaten the good citizens of Sunnydale with my legal commerce?”
“You’re using Buffy’s grief to sneak into her life.”
“Oh boo bloody hoo. Giles set you up for this?”
“And she’s confused. Horribly, grossly confused by you and your rampant nudity.”
Spike couldn’t help smirking proudly. “Rampant, was I?”
“Yes. No. GAH.” Xander looked away like the sight of Spike hurt his eyes. “Stay away from Buffy.”
For the love of Christmas. That couldn’t be a command, could it? Spike held up his hands. “Look, Harris. Sorry I confused your sexuality with my forced nudity. Or did you forget I wanted no part of that?”
“You volunteered.”
“And you’re fucking welcome.”
“I don’t know why we don’t just stake you.”
“I dunno.” Spike tilted his head back, licked his lips, and, like always, went straight for the quickest path to a face punch. “Lack of balls?”
He laughed. It was so easy to piss people off. Of course, getting his head slammed into the wall by a human boy was not particularly fun, and about this point was when he wondered why he loved pissing people off so much.
And then, as he was working on getting his ass kicked, a group of foul-smelling freaks in monk’s robes busted in and took over the entire operation, leaving Spike very confused, and shortly very unconscious.
Continued -->
In this chapter, Spike gets a prezzie! (And so does Glory.)
Also this might be the spuffiest thing I have ever written.
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Fifteen: Intervention
Buffy found Spike rooting through her weapon chest the next morning. The house was a wreck, and he was wrecking it more, tossing blades and crossbows over the sofa. “Hey? Home invasion much?”
Spike laid a blade against his palm like he was testing its weight. He tossed it aside. “Don’t you have any magic swords?”
“What with the huh? Is there a magic-sword emergency I should know about?”
He half-shrugged. “You can feel them, the magic ones. Kinda burn, kinda itch.” He tossed another sword aside and the chest was empty. He looked depressed.
Buffy picked up her very best sword - thank you very much - and lovingly laid it back in its place. “New rule: Don’t come into my house and mess up my stuff unless there’s an apocalypse.”
“Sorry,” he said, quietly, and that wasn’t Spike-like in the least so it made her stop and stare at him.
He shifted and fidgeted, looking anywhere but at her. “It’s just… it was a magic sword, yeah?” He fingered his eyebrow. Was that a safety pin in his skin? EW. He finally looked at her. “I need a magic sword to get my scar back.”
“That’s stupid,” Buffy said, meaning anything but.
“Just want to look like myself again.”
“You don’t have a reflection. You DO look like yourself.” He looked miserable. She put the crossbow back next, since it was largest. “Let’s check Giles’ stash.”
***
It wasn’t like they were exchanging promise rings or some bollocks like that, but something had shifted in the way Buffy looked at him. It was… softer. When she casually touched him, her hand lingered instead of pulling back.
Buffy handed him the first knife. He touched it and shook his head. She set it back and handed him the next.
It was good. It was strange. Was this… affection? Friendship? Courtship? Spike was a little perplexed by it, but at the same time, if you didn’t get to do something completely new now and then, what was eternity for?
“Ah, hot!” Spike dropped the next dagger. It glinted on the floor, a narrow thing with a scrolling Spanish inscription. Damascus steel. Flowery Cavalier-era handle. Spike toed it and flipped it over. No cross or other religious symbols to cause the burning. He shook his hand. “I think we have a winner.”
Buffy picked the dagger up and frowned at it. “So… how do we…”
Spike touched his brow. He knelt, so his head would be at an easy height for her. “Just… right where the pin is, sort of that angle. Oh, um…” He unhooked the pin. The skin gripped it as he pulled it out. But, hopefully, there were two wee red marks on either side of the eyebrow to guide Buffy. It felt odd… no, wrong, sitting there, waiting to be hit by the slayer.
He looked up. Buffy shook her head. “Shouldn’t we, like, do this in battle or something?”
Spike felt his chest swell. “That’s my girl!”
Soon enough they routed a nest of vamps passing a joint behind the Shady Acre’s mausoleum. He wanted to ask her how she was planning on cutting him but that felt awkward and there was all that lovely violence to deal with.
The vampire he was strangling vanished in a puff of smoke and as he stumbled forward, he felt a sharp, burning cut on his brow. He looked up to see Buffy above him, the knife curled back.
“I…”
Buffy jumped high and decapitated the last vampire with a stunning spin-kick.
In the quiet of settling dust, she pointed at him, still holding the knife. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?”
She started walking back to the front of the cemetery. “Anything flowery or rhyming, for one. I’m a little afraid to let you near anything as sappy as ‘thank you.’”
Spike said, “It was you.”
Buffy turned in mid-step. “Huh?”
Spike shrugged. “You asked, back a bit, how come I’m still me, yeah? How I got through all that nasty slave business without breaking. I couldn’t answer before, but now I can, I guess. Because I trust you.” He shrugged and gestured at the ground. “We’re back to killing things together, so we shouldn’t keep things bottled up between us. And yeah. It was you. You got me through it all.”
Buffy looked down. She tucked her knife behind her and shook her head. “I didn’t, though. I fell asleep after the battle and didn’t get to Giles until the next morning!”
She looked so upset, and all for him. He cupped her cheek. “Doesn’t matter how long it took - I knew you’d come for me, yeah? That kept me going - knowing I had a hero looking out for me.”
Were those tears? Glittering in her eyes? For him? He brushed one away with his thumb. “There now, love, don’t cry.”
Buffy bit her lip, she almost shook her head, and half opened and closed her mouth, like she was having trouble deciding what to say. “I want to kiss you,” she said.
Spike grinned and brought his face close to hers. She stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. “I don’t know if it’s okay, that I want that. Or if…”
“It’s all right,” Spike said, almost laughing, but she still held him off.
“I mean for me as well as for you. I know you’re okay with kissage. You’ve always been more than okay with kissage and not shy about it. I’m not sure I am. I’m not sure what I’m feeling for you is healthy.”
“It’s not meant to be,” he said, and he kissed her, gently. He pulled back to see her looking a little surprised. “Was that so bad?”
She answered by pulling him down for a harder kiss.
***
“Buffy, I was hoping to find you,” Giles followed the sound of fighting into the cemetery and quickly put a mark in the book he was studying. “I may have found a clue as to…” he looked up and his voice trailed off.
Buffy and Spike were standing in a clearing between grave markers, kissing.
Giles took off his glasses and put them back on. “Uh… Buffy?” No response. He cleared his throat. No response. He took a few steps forward and in his loudest voice said, “Good lord, this isn’t a spell again, is it?”
Buffy and Spike broke apart like caught-out teens, which was exactly what they resembled. Spike had blood on his cheek and a smear of lipstick on his mouth.
“Uh,” Spike said. “There was… something… something evil on my… uh, lips?”
“Don’t help,” Buffy hissed.
“No,” Giles said. “By all means, help me understand what I just witnessed.”
“I’ll, uh. I’ll go,” Spike said.
“The hell you will,” Giles said.
Buffy stepped forward. “Take the Giles alarm down a notch. All right: I kissed Spike. We kissed. There was kissage. It was a moment, and it’s none of your business.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Still not your business?” Buffy held her hands out.
Giles wanted to drag her home and ground her for eternity. But she wasn’t a child. Had never been HIS child. Instead he turned his wrath on the vampire. “You should have stopped her.”
Spike blinked. “What?”
“Buffy is in a vulnerable emotional state. You are old enough to know better.”
Buffy said, “Oh wow. Now my boyfriend gets to make my decisions for me, too?”
Spike got a ridiculous smile on his face at the word ‘boyfriend’. Giles could see no path at all to victory in this confrontation. He tucked his book under his arm. “I’ve found some information on Glory. Come see me at your first convenience, if you care at all about stopping her.”
Giles felt the silence behind him. Good. That was at least a strong parting shot.
***
Spike was walking on air. The fizzy burn on his eyebrow brought back delightful memories. He couldn’t wait to check his look in the photo booth outside the drugstore.
Better yet, Buffy had, no matter how vociferously she’d denied it afterward, called him her boyfriend, and she’d kissed him and didn’t stake him afterward. Those were two things he never thought he’d see. It was time to celebrate.
It was worth braving the scorching sun to sell a few gems at the jewelry shop on Main. They took all the gold chains, too, though they no doubt robbed him blind.
A haircut and dye job later, Spike was happily stocking his fridge and pantry with pig’s blood and whiskey, respectively, when Xander kicked in the door. Well, that was unexpected.
“You’re disgusting,” Xander said.
That wasn’t. Spike closed the fridge and folded his arms. “What did I do this time? Threaten the good citizens of Sunnydale with my legal commerce?”
“You’re using Buffy’s grief to sneak into her life.”
“Oh boo bloody hoo. Giles set you up for this?”
“And she’s confused. Horribly, grossly confused by you and your rampant nudity.”
Spike couldn’t help smirking proudly. “Rampant, was I?”
“Yes. No. GAH.” Xander looked away like the sight of Spike hurt his eyes. “Stay away from Buffy.”
For the love of Christmas. That couldn’t be a command, could it? Spike held up his hands. “Look, Harris. Sorry I confused your sexuality with my forced nudity. Or did you forget I wanted no part of that?”
“You volunteered.”
“And you’re fucking welcome.”
“I don’t know why we don’t just stake you.”
“I dunno.” Spike tilted his head back, licked his lips, and, like always, went straight for the quickest path to a face punch. “Lack of balls?”
He laughed. It was so easy to piss people off. Of course, getting his head slammed into the wall by a human boy was not particularly fun, and about this point was when he wondered why he loved pissing people off so much.
And then, as he was working on getting his ass kicked, a group of foul-smelling freaks in monk’s robes busted in and took over the entire operation, leaving Spike very confused, and shortly very unconscious.
Continued -->