[fic] even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Dec. 29th, 2010 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vampirelayerFandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Buffy (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cuzitswrong ) and Spike (killed2slayers )
Ship: Buffy/Spike
Genre: Romance/Angst/Humor
Rating: PG
Timeline/Verse: Angel Still Can't Get Laid verse; post s7; Queen of the Slayers AU
Prompt: Collide by Howie Day
Requested By:museofspeed Merry Christmas, bb ♥
Summary: After the Immortal reveals his insidious plans (to Spike's complete lack of surprise), he throws Buffy and Spike in the dungeon. Things come up when there's nowhere to run.
"Can I just take this moment to say... " Spike started, but was cut off immediately by a grunt as Buffy pulled to no avail at the chains binding her to the wall of the cell.
"Now's really not the time to go all true confessions, Spike," she protested.
"No, this one's important," he argued, and he could see her slump against the wall, her eyes rolling up in frustration.
"Fine. Shoot," she groaned.
There was a tiny pause and then he got the nerve to blurt it out: "Told you so."
"Spike--" she spat, annoyed, but her anger seemed to die out and dissolve into something else as she released a slow sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. Go you. Now maybe we should focus on a way out of here."
"Don't know what the hurry is, luv," Spike admitted, more than a little rueful that she'd dismissed the fact that he'd been right about what a lying ponce the Immortal had been all along.
"I'm going to hope that was a really bad joke," she returned flatly. "Why did I loan Dawn my nailfile today?"
"Wasn't," he admitted, settling for watching her out of the corner of his eye as she struggled. Of course, he didn't want her handed over to the Legion of Three, but this was honestly the most private time they'd had in, well, weeks, thanks to a non stop train of baby Slayers and the bloody Immortal's entourage of bootlickers.
It was kind of nice.
Aside from the whole chained up in a dirty cell bit.
"I'm just as eager to see your pompous sweetheart get his as you are to give it to him," he continued, "but then what?"
"Then what what?" she demanded incredulously. He knew she wasn't going to like the answer, and he took a deep unnecessary breath before giving it.
"Maybe I'm not exactly excited about the prospect of watching you move from one bloody fool to another who doesn't deserve you."
The silence hung there heavily for a second, and he could feel her anger, radiating out and filling the air of the tiny, dank cell. It was always exhilarating, that fire she had. She couldn't even speak for a second, so he reckoned he'd pissed her off royally. He was almost proud. Helped take some of the bite away, at least, to know he could make her feel something.
But when she spoke, she didn't sound angry. She sounded tired, and more than a little, well, sad.
"You could always leave."
It wasn't an order, that much was clear. He could feel his still heart twist inside his breast as he answered quietly:
"Can't do that, luv. You know that."
No response for another long moment, before she replied, with even less volume:
"I know."
He twisted ever so slightly to study her face. She was staring straight at the floor, her expression contorted into something that made it look like she was hurting. It took him a moment to actually come to grips with the fact that it might be actually on account of him.
"'m sorry," he said, hating that he had to do this to her, but not sure how to stop it. Everything was always momentum, when it came to Buffy. He couldn't fight it anymore than gravity.
The hollow laugh she gave, and the choking sound when she spoke took him entirely by surprise.
"What on earth do you have to be sorry for, Spike?"
He managed to push beyond his bewilderment long enough to respond, shrugging in his bonds. "Not sure. But it sounded good anyway."
Her laughter burst over, a painful noise that was laced with emotion, and he found himself echoing it. It rebounded off the stone walls, filling the space, replacing the anger, melting it away.
"Spike, if we get out of here...."
"When," he corrected her firmly.
"When. We should talk."
He tried, as hard as possible, not to let that start a fire under his hopes.
"Aren't we talking right now?" he asked, very slowly and pointedly.
"I was thinking something that involved less chains."
He smirked, and muttered under his breath: "I wasn't."
"What'd you say?" she demanded sharply.
"Nothing."
"Thought so."
He couldn't help the dumb smile that slid across his lips, and he hoped she didn't look over and catch it. As casually as possible, he said: "Well, if that's not something worth escaping for, don't know what is."
Though he didn't see it either, his smile was echoed on Buffy's lips.
"Somehow I knew you'd say that."
Characters: Buffy (
cuzitswrong ) and Spike (killed2slayers )Ship: Buffy/Spike
Genre: Romance/Angst/Humor
Rating: PG
Timeline/Verse: Angel Still Can't Get Laid verse; post s7; Queen of the Slayers AU
Prompt: Collide by Howie Day
Requested By:
museofspeed Merry Christmas, bb ♥Summary: After the Immortal reveals his insidious plans (to Spike's complete lack of surprise), he throws Buffy and Spike in the dungeon. Things come up when there's nowhere to run.
"Can I just take this moment to say... " Spike started, but was cut off immediately by a grunt as Buffy pulled to no avail at the chains binding her to the wall of the cell.
"Now's really not the time to go all true confessions, Spike," she protested.
"No, this one's important," he argued, and he could see her slump against the wall, her eyes rolling up in frustration.
"Fine. Shoot," she groaned.
There was a tiny pause and then he got the nerve to blurt it out: "Told you so."
"Spike--" she spat, annoyed, but her anger seemed to die out and dissolve into something else as she released a slow sigh. "Yeah. Yeah, you did. Go you. Now maybe we should focus on a way out of here."
"Don't know what the hurry is, luv," Spike admitted, more than a little rueful that she'd dismissed the fact that he'd been right about what a lying ponce the Immortal had been all along.
"I'm going to hope that was a really bad joke," she returned flatly. "Why did I loan Dawn my nailfile today?"
"Wasn't," he admitted, settling for watching her out of the corner of his eye as she struggled. Of course, he didn't want her handed over to the Legion of Three, but this was honestly the most private time they'd had in, well, weeks, thanks to a non stop train of baby Slayers and the bloody Immortal's entourage of bootlickers.
It was kind of nice.
Aside from the whole chained up in a dirty cell bit.
"I'm just as eager to see your pompous sweetheart get his as you are to give it to him," he continued, "but then what?"
"Then what what?" she demanded incredulously. He knew she wasn't going to like the answer, and he took a deep unnecessary breath before giving it.
"Maybe I'm not exactly excited about the prospect of watching you move from one bloody fool to another who doesn't deserve you."
The silence hung there heavily for a second, and he could feel her anger, radiating out and filling the air of the tiny, dank cell. It was always exhilarating, that fire she had. She couldn't even speak for a second, so he reckoned he'd pissed her off royally. He was almost proud. Helped take some of the bite away, at least, to know he could make her feel something.
But when she spoke, she didn't sound angry. She sounded tired, and more than a little, well, sad.
"You could always leave."
It wasn't an order, that much was clear. He could feel his still heart twist inside his breast as he answered quietly:
"Can't do that, luv. You know that."
No response for another long moment, before she replied, with even less volume:
"I know."
He twisted ever so slightly to study her face. She was staring straight at the floor, her expression contorted into something that made it look like she was hurting. It took him a moment to actually come to grips with the fact that it might be actually on account of him.
"'m sorry," he said, hating that he had to do this to her, but not sure how to stop it. Everything was always momentum, when it came to Buffy. He couldn't fight it anymore than gravity.
The hollow laugh she gave, and the choking sound when she spoke took him entirely by surprise.
"What on earth do you have to be sorry for, Spike?"
He managed to push beyond his bewilderment long enough to respond, shrugging in his bonds. "Not sure. But it sounded good anyway."
Her laughter burst over, a painful noise that was laced with emotion, and he found himself echoing it. It rebounded off the stone walls, filling the space, replacing the anger, melting it away.
"Spike, if we get out of here...."
"When," he corrected her firmly.
"When. We should talk."
He tried, as hard as possible, not to let that start a fire under his hopes.
"Aren't we talking right now?" he asked, very slowly and pointedly.
"I was thinking something that involved less chains."
He smirked, and muttered under his breath: "I wasn't."
"What'd you say?" she demanded sharply.
"Nothing."
"Thought so."
He couldn't help the dumb smile that slid across his lips, and he hoped she didn't look over and catch it. As casually as possible, he said: "Well, if that's not something worth escaping for, don't know what is."
Though he didn't see it either, his smile was echoed on Buffy's lips.
"Somehow I knew you'd say that."
no subject
Date: 2010-12-31 05:39 pm (UTC)IT'S JUST AS GOOD POSTED HERE.
Man, I want to do more laidverse stuff.