Title: Innocence Found
Author: Spike’s Heart
Rating: PG to be safish… if it changes, I’ll inform
Setting: Season 6 – Goes AU at the beginning of Tabula Rasa
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I’d treat them nicer than Joss ever did.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Archive: Ask me, nicely.
Warning: There will be cute here.
A/N: Dialogue from Tabula Rasa ‘borrowed’ from BuffyWorld
Beta’d by: willa_writes
Summary: Still going through the motions of everyday life and slayage, Buffy and Spike come across a demon that changes their very existence.
Innocence Found – Chapter 1 – What Are Little Boys Made Of?
Another night, another round of patrolling through yet another cemetery. At least the demons weren’t singing anymore. Neither was she. God, she was so not singing about anything ever again.
So. All of her secrets were out in the open now … so why didn’t she feel better?
Tension coursed through Buffy’s body, setting her teeth on edge. She almost wished for a reappearance of Sweet. The Slayer in her wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around the demon’s throat and twist his smarmy head off. She really needed to kill something, and her well meaning friends weren’t appropriate targets to vent any spleen on.
The night wasn’t being cooperative, however… no new fledglings to dust and no demons to whale on except for…
“Spike.” She rolled her eyes before she turned to face the vampire who’d not so silently snuck up behind her, and relaxed her grip on Mr. Pointy.
“Can we talk?”
“Vocal-chord-wise, yes. With each other? No.”
She turned and walked a few steps away.
“We have to talk,” he insisted.
Buffy sighed, resigned to hearing what he had to say. Knowing he wouldn’t shut up or go away until she’d let him have his way. “About what?”
“We kissed, Buffy.”
She resumed walking, a bit faster this time. Spike followed, loping after her.
“We… we kissed, you and me. All Gone with the Wind, with the rising music, and the rising… music, and what was that, Buffy?”
“A spell?” She knew that was a low blow, inasmuch as it was she who’d instigated the kiss after Sweet had fled.
“Oh, don’t get all prim and proper with me.” Spike sped up, crossing in front of her, and blocked her path. “I know what kind of girl you really are, don’t I?”
Buffy glared at him. “What we did is done. But I will never kiss you, Spike. Never touch you ever, ever again.”
Spike cocked his head, ready to give her a piece of his mind. After all… nobody kissed like that without wanting more.
Suddenly, Buffy shoved Spike backwards, tackling him to the ground. Flat on his back with the Slayer lying across his body, he wasn’t about to question the contact – but then a spear whistled through the air where Spike had been, ending up embedded in a nearby tree.
They both looked up. A large, shaggy demon was rapidly advancing on the prone couple… bellowing as it retrieved yet another spear from a quiver on its back.
“Who’d you piss off now, Spike?” Buffy muttered, clambering off both Spike and the ground.
“Never seen the bugger or its like before, luv. High an’ low?”
The Slayer nodded, running full bore at the demon; unleashing a vicious kick to its jaw as Spike went low and took it down by its knees.
Grabbing one of its own spears, Buffy staked the struggling creature through the heart… or at least where she hoped its heart would be. With one last bellow, the demon died. Messily. Promptly exploding-melting into a puddle of grey goop, covering both the Slayer and vampire in stringy ropes of hair and muck.
Spike rose, trying to shake the goop from his skin. “Now that was far less fun than it promised to be,” he grumbled. “And I don’t know about you,” he winced, “but this stuff stings.”
“Some Big Bad you are.” Buffy snickered, wringing as much slime from her hair as she could. “More like a Big Bad Baby.”
“I’d love to stay an’ trade insults with you, pet,” Spike snarked, “but I’ve got to find a place to wash off. ‘Sides, I’m not the only one getting’ a nice case of goop rash. You’re lookin’ as rosy as a kiddy’s paddled bottom.”
Buffy felt her skin warming in a slightly itchy warning. Okay, so maybe getting free and clean of the demon gore would be a wise move. Already feeling slightly guilty for refusing to talk to Spike about the incident outside the Bronze, she invited him back to the house for a cleansing hose off in the back yard, and shelter until the sun set in the evening.
A lot more water than anticipated later, they climbed up the tree to her room, to avoid dripping water throughout the house.
“Not to be pushy, Slayer… but even a vamp appreciates dry clothing. ‘Sides,” Spike grumbled, “At the rate this stuff is disintegratin’ my clothes, m’gonna be completely starkers in about an hour.”
Sure enough, even Buffy could see his jeans were a little more threadbare than usual. “You’re a pig, Spike,” she said, no heat behind her words, even as she retrieved her mother’s ratty old blue terrycloth robe. “Why don’t you use the shower in the hallway, and I’ll use the one in here. I think it’s best we make sure all the demon gunk is gone.” Handing him the robe, she gently pushed him into the hallway.
Half an hour later, Spike stumbled into Joyce’s room, looking decidedly yummy with the blue robe loosely wrapped around his thin frame, and his hair a riot of platinum curls. Startled, “Holy guh!” was pretty much Buffy’s only coherent thought as she found herself torn between the fervent prayer that the robe’s tie would hold fast or vanish altogether.
Then Spike stopped, swaying. “Slayer! Buffy!”
Buffy snapped out of her daze as the vampire’s urgent tone bordered on panic. “What? What’s the matter with you?”
“Somethin’s not right, pet. M’dizzy an’ can’t focus.” Spike looked into her eyes. “I see three of you, though.” He grinned. “While it’s a pretty sight, it’s wrong.”
Flushing slightly at the compliment, Buffy noted the vampire’s dilated pupils, and an odd swirling in the irises; blue and violet roiling together.
Making her mind up quickly, she shepherded Spike to the bed. “Vampires don’t upchuck, do they? ‘Cause I so don’t want to wake up in a puddle of ick. One retch from you and I’m kicking you out of bed, got that?”
Halfway to unconsciousness already, Spike mumbled, “Knew you cared.”
“You keep telling yourself that, you peroxided pest.” Snuggling under the cover, Buffy pushed the vampire closer to the edge of the mattress. “And stop hogging the bed.” The last thought she had was whether or not she’d remembered to close the curtains… and finding herself irritated, hoping that she had.
“Earthquake!” Buffy thought in panic as she jolted awake, bouncing around on her mattress. She turned to Spike’s side of the bed, noticing nothing but an empty robe. Sitting up quickly, she pulled the robe to her, searching for the pile of ashes she was sure would be there.
No ashes. And the drapes had indeed been closed, so where was…?
She tried to straighten her mind out, confused. Okay, the mattress was still being jolted, but the room was still, so no earthquake. Turning around, Buffy saw a naked little boy jumping up and down on the bed, with a great big smile on his face.
“Mornin,’ lady,” he chirped in a sweet, boyish British accent.
Buffy felt her stomach sink. “Oh, God.”