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tamingthemuseI am exhausted. This isn't even a chapter, which is why it's not at my journal. This is a fragment of a chapter that combines the taming prompt with my 6x6 prompt.
Title: Part of the "Butterfly Kisses" universe
Rating: SAFE
Prompt: 188, Alkaline
Summary: Spike thinks about his relationship with Buffy and just how he ended up sharing a bed with a slayer.
Word Count: 833
The sewers under the Sunnydale campus smelled of beer and hormones, so by the time Spike came up into the shadows of one of the main buildings, he was horny. His plan to retrieve his lighter from Buffy's house and talk to her had backfired when Buffy had taken off to talk to Tara, but he was flexible.
The archways created weak pools of light as the sun started sinking in the sky. In morning, this area would be bathed with light, but right now it was nicely shadowed. A young woman walked past and gave Spike an appraising look, and Spike offered her a quick leer. Another day he might pursue that, but a coed looking for a big bad couldn't compare with a slayer. He just had to wait until Buffy came through here. Tara was smart for picking a dorm without sewer access, but it was bloody annoying.
He leaned against the building and lit a cigarette as he settled in to wait. One of the stone half-walls had a little round pot, cat's eye green with some sort of carving along the edge. Curious, Spike strolled over and ran a finger along the sun-warmed rim. The pottery was cooling now, but it had been out in the sun quite a while. It looked empty, but white sediment suggested something had evaporated.
Picking it up, Spike suddenly realized what it reminded him of. Joyce had once shown him a green pot with stylized hunters and lion, all inscribed with swirls and lines. She had touched it lovingly, explaining how the Arabs had used alkali, lime, and silica to make their special pottery hard... so hard that it survived three thousand years to land in her hands.
This pot could be the twin to that one Joyce had showed him. It was smaller, but the color and the carvings were so close that Spike remembered Joyce's smile as she'd explained the process. Sitting in her kitchen as she unpacked one artifact after another, Spike had felt something he'd been missing for a hundred years: acceptance.
Joyce hadn't wanted him to be a better killer or take a whip to her back while pretending to be Angelus. She'd offered him cocoa and ruined his soddin' unlife. Demons shouldn't bloody need acceptance. Power, wealth, jewels, even land—yes. Acceptance, no.
A little voice in Spike's head whispered that he was a bloody fool for chasing after the slayer. Yeah, bedding her was a proper trophy for a demon, but she wasn't bloody giving him what Joyce had. She kept soddin' denying her own needs.
Slowly, Spike smiled. That was fine. If she was going to be stubborn, she'd better remember that he'd put up with Dru for a hundred years, and he'd wait a hundred years if that's what it took for her to realize that he was the one who was loyal. All her little friends had abandoned ship, and he was the one there to take her anger. Every welt and cut and bite mark was proof that she did need him, and one day, she'd realize that she could trust him. Spike held the bowl up and studied the uneven edge.
Xander had his fun, trying to make Spike jealous with all that rot about how Buffy loved Angel, but he'd left her. The fucking knob had taught her that she couldn't rely on anyone, and her worthless friends were just reinforcing that. But Spike would show her just how loyal he could be, and then he wouldn't just have her in his bed; he'd have her. She'd be his in a way that she never belonged to Angel.
That thought amused Spike. When he and Buffy had truly settled in, they'd take a trip down to LA and show Peaches just how much he had lost—twice. He'd walked away from both of them, after all. And Spike would be more than happy to explain exactly why he had Angel to thank for all this.
If Angelus hadn't come up with that idiot plan to end the world, Spike never would have started sitting with Joyce. He would have missed the quiet conversations, and even the time she'd threatened him with a butcher knife the size of a bloody Lamk demon's arm. Before Angelus and all his schemes, humans were food. Spike hadn't noticed them any longer than it had taken him to drain them of blood and drop their cooling bodies to the ground. Once he'd worked through his railroad spike days trying to impress his sire, he'd forgotten humanity. He'd forgotten the simple joy of sitting at a table and listening to a beautiful woman talk about pottery. Angelus had reintroducing him to humanity, and just as soon as Spike had well and truly claimed Angel's lost human, Spike was going to enjoy telling him that in exquisite and glorious detail.
Sometimes Spike blamed the chip, but looking back, it was Angel who had turned him into
Title: Part of the "Butterfly Kisses" universe
Rating: SAFE
Prompt: 188, Alkaline
Summary: Spike thinks about his relationship with Buffy and just how he ended up sharing a bed with a slayer.
Word Count: 833
The sewers under the Sunnydale campus smelled of beer and hormones, so by the time Spike came up into the shadows of one of the main buildings, he was horny. His plan to retrieve his lighter from Buffy's house and talk to her had backfired when Buffy had taken off to talk to Tara, but he was flexible.
The archways created weak pools of light as the sun started sinking in the sky. In morning, this area would be bathed with light, but right now it was nicely shadowed. A young woman walked past and gave Spike an appraising look, and Spike offered her a quick leer. Another day he might pursue that, but a coed looking for a big bad couldn't compare with a slayer. He just had to wait until Buffy came through here. Tara was smart for picking a dorm without sewer access, but it was bloody annoying.
He leaned against the building and lit a cigarette as he settled in to wait. One of the stone half-walls had a little round pot, cat's eye green with some sort of carving along the edge. Curious, Spike strolled over and ran a finger along the sun-warmed rim. The pottery was cooling now, but it had been out in the sun quite a while. It looked empty, but white sediment suggested something had evaporated.
Picking it up, Spike suddenly realized what it reminded him of. Joyce had once shown him a green pot with stylized hunters and lion, all inscribed with swirls and lines. She had touched it lovingly, explaining how the Arabs had used alkali, lime, and silica to make their special pottery hard... so hard that it survived three thousand years to land in her hands.
This pot could be the twin to that one Joyce had showed him. It was smaller, but the color and the carvings were so close that Spike remembered Joyce's smile as she'd explained the process. Sitting in her kitchen as she unpacked one artifact after another, Spike had felt something he'd been missing for a hundred years: acceptance.
Joyce hadn't wanted him to be a better killer or take a whip to her back while pretending to be Angelus. She'd offered him cocoa and ruined his soddin' unlife. Demons shouldn't bloody need acceptance. Power, wealth, jewels, even land—yes. Acceptance, no.
A little voice in Spike's head whispered that he was a bloody fool for chasing after the slayer. Yeah, bedding her was a proper trophy for a demon, but she wasn't bloody giving him what Joyce had. She kept soddin' denying her own needs.
Slowly, Spike smiled. That was fine. If she was going to be stubborn, she'd better remember that he'd put up with Dru for a hundred years, and he'd wait a hundred years if that's what it took for her to realize that he was the one who was loyal. All her little friends had abandoned ship, and he was the one there to take her anger. Every welt and cut and bite mark was proof that she did need him, and one day, she'd realize that she could trust him. Spike held the bowl up and studied the uneven edge.
Xander had his fun, trying to make Spike jealous with all that rot about how Buffy loved Angel, but he'd left her. The fucking knob had taught her that she couldn't rely on anyone, and her worthless friends were just reinforcing that. But Spike would show her just how loyal he could be, and then he wouldn't just have her in his bed; he'd have her. She'd be his in a way that she never belonged to Angel.
That thought amused Spike. When he and Buffy had truly settled in, they'd take a trip down to LA and show Peaches just how much he had lost—twice. He'd walked away from both of them, after all. And Spike would be more than happy to explain exactly why he had Angel to thank for all this.
If Angelus hadn't come up with that idiot plan to end the world, Spike never would have started sitting with Joyce. He would have missed the quiet conversations, and even the time she'd threatened him with a butcher knife the size of a bloody Lamk demon's arm. Before Angelus and all his schemes, humans were food. Spike hadn't noticed them any longer than it had taken him to drain them of blood and drop their cooling bodies to the ground. Once he'd worked through his railroad spike days trying to impress his sire, he'd forgotten humanity. He'd forgotten the simple joy of sitting at a table and listening to a beautiful woman talk about pottery. Angelus had reintroducing him to humanity, and just as soon as Spike had well and truly claimed Angel's lost human, Spike was going to enjoy telling him that in exquisite and glorious detail.
Sometimes Spike blamed the chip, but looking back, it was Angel who had turned him into
no subject
Date: 2010-02-28 05:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-28 06:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-28 12:06 pm (UTC)=)
Thing is, you're such a staple in my livejournal and at the muse that I would hate to lose you, but I'd hate even more if you didn't like what you were creating. I'll be here either way.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-28 06:48 pm (UTC)