Prompt #1 Seeking the Light(er)-Teen
Title: Seeking the Light(er)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Warnings: Mention of kinks, strong language Spike/Buffy
Set: After Gone, before Dead Things
Word Count: 668
A/N: Thanks to a rapid beta by desoto_hia873
Summary: There is a scene in Gone where Spike retrieves his lighter from Buffy's jean front pocket. That was the inspiration for this piece. After one of their sessions, Spike looks for a missing lighter.
Fuck bloody fuck.
Spike worked in a circular search and rescue pattern starting at the bed and working outward through the debris of tossed covers and torn clothing - all were his, he noted sourly.
Slayer played a wild game -- bloody wore him ragged then raced off as if pursued by the hounds of hell. Scratch that. He'd heard stories of her chasing hellhounds or some such.
The girl did twist every rule going, including rising from the dead even if it had taken more than the church-sanctioned three days. FUCK! He must really need a fag if his C of E training was leaking through.
Where the hell was his lighter?
Last he saw of it, Slayer was using it on a candle. Wax play. His vanilla little Slayer was sampling all of the thirty-wonderful kinks she could think of, and a few more that he'd suggested.
Where the fuck was his lighter?
A thought wormed its way to the surface. She'd held it before.
He slammed it down, but not fast enough.
Sodding romantic William.
He'd thought that they'd form a connection, that she could be herself--her full self--with him.
But the more they connected, the further away she got.
*Dirty little secret*
He'd only found out about her job because Niblet had been so worried, even if she was looking forward to the free burgers. When he had dropped by, her only reaction was resignation.
It was killing her, all of it.
And the old cures weren't working.
Where the bloody hell was that lighter? With a sudden jerk, he tossed the bed on its side and glared at the JD bottles, an old Cosmo--must have been Harm's--lace panties, and a glint of silver that caught his eye.
Watching the handcuffs swinging off his finger, he sat leaning against the upturned bed swigging the dregs out of the various bottles he'd found. Plan A hadn't worked, time to try something else.
The Slayer was back, the demon community knew that for bloody sure. As much fun as their summer camp had been, an aged Watcher, two witches, a shop girl, and a carpenter were no equal to a Slayer, even with his and that thing's help.
He'd tried to shield Niblet from the bits of Bot that night. He'd tried to shield himself as well, because as much as he'd hated it, it was still a piece of her. Hadn't realized that pieces were all he would ever get. Only the bits she wouldn't show her friends. Her family.
Still didn't have his sodding lighter.
Messy as it was, he knew his crypt. Maybe he should give sweet Willie his due on that thought. But normally one only kept trophies of things they were proud of.
Their time together, what did it mean to her? Flesh pounding flesh, a guaranteed endorphin rush? A bit of fun? A rebellion?
Or a place without censure, where she could just be? "I can be alone with you here," she'd said, when her friends were too much. And how often did she get that chance? Not to be big sis, or slayer, or breadwinner? No expectations, no role to fill--just to be.
How ruddy Zen--or was that Tao? He'd never bothered much with Chinese anything, though Szechwan had some nice kick to its spicing, not as good as a vindaloo and he'd kill for a good curry...he'd killed for much less.
She was killing him.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
Last time, he'd left it behind, and found in it her pocket. Looks like this time, she'd nicked it. At least he knew where that lighter was.
This Slayer had twisted all the rules. Got him playing for the side of the angels against Angelus, didn't she? How many vamps can say they've saved the world? How many would bloody want to?
New game then.
Time to get his lighter back.
And he knew just the pocket to pick.