Liliaeth (liliaeth) wrote,

Fic: My dad, the vampire (7/?) B/S

Title: My dad, the vampire
Rating: PG13
Summary: Ever wonder what happened to the baby that Spike saved from the Fell brethren?
Notes: written for the spuffy kink ficathon for pfeifferpack



Spike kept pacing around the room. Once they knew the Fell were involved all he could do was wait, while Angel and Giles got to be the big champions, fighting evil through long years of connections. Not like he didn't have any himself, but most of them were either out of date, or wouldn't even spit on him after setting him on fire. To hell with them all.

Charlie was still going over the contract, wiping sweat off his brows as he read the same passage over and over again, hoping to find something that he'd missed before. Spike put a cup of coffee on the table next to him and got out of the way before the old boy could embarrass him with a thank you. He closed his eyes, two steps removed from running over Illyria. He'd barely noticed her sitting behind the couch, staring at a toy. The way she looked at it, it seemed as if it held the secrets to the universe. Either that or she thought it looked tasty.

"So where did you go to school?"

Spike tried not to listen in on the kids' conversation, but couldn't force himself to feel even a dab of guilt about doing it anyway. The need to keep his eyes and ears wandering to Dawn and Connor was much much stronger than his soul's pinch. He liked Connor, the brat was willful, up for fun, and capable of making Angel utterly ballsack nutters, but if the little shit laid one wrong hand on his nibblet he'd wring the junior poofter's neck till his head was turned backwards and he could see his ass by just looking down.

"Stanford. Liberal arts department. You?"

"Archeology, ancient languages, at Oxford."

Even now, Spike couldn't help a small smile realizing the bit had gone to his old stomping grounds. He growled at Connor when he touched Dawn's hand. The boy heard and quickly pulled back, a second too late for Spike's tastes.

"So who's Buffy?"

Dawn didn't respond.

"Dad said something about her being his ex or something. So why is she here?"

Spike could hear something falling on the other side of the room and noticed it was her… his Slayer… the slayer… a slayer… Buffy? She'd dropped a plate with a coffee cup and was now bowed over, trying to grab the pieces. Her backside rounded beautifully under the flower dress she was wearing, his angel, though nothing like Angel.

He really fought the instinct to go over and help her out; he even managed to stop himself for an entire thirty seconds. Then he was by her side, picking up the pieces.
He just wished she wouldn't talk, because he didn't know if he could keep from being angry if she did.



"What happened slayer, can't hold it up anymore?" he simply couldn't stop himself. "What? Did dear old Immie keep you so busy that you got out of practice? How the hell are you supposed to hang on to a sword if you can't even hold on to a cup."

In the next three seconds, he was falling back as she hit him, square onto the nose like usual.
Spike crawled up from the floor, touching his nose.

"What the hell's going on Spike? I'm here to help." Such righteous indignation in her voice, it didn't help matters one bit.

"Help what? Make sure I don't run off with the boy afterwards? What, did Rupert need someone to stake the big bad vampire for him and you leapt at the chance?"

She hit him again, well at least she hadn't lost her aim.

"I didn't even know you were going to be here, you damn stubborn, shirty, lame ass vampire you."

He nearly choked, then she hit him again. He grabbed her hand, his nose was bloody well starting to hurt by now. She kicked him, he hit her back. She froze, stared at him, pulled his feet out from under him. He bounced right up, pushing her down, straddling her, she grabbed his mouth and kissed him.

And he couldn't possibly understand how in the hell, he'd gone from A to B. He just knew he liked it. So as was par for the course, she grabbed him, kissed him and ran, virtue fluttering. It didn't even surprise him anymore.

Angel coughed, alerting him of his sire's presence, Spike hadn't even noticed him coming in.


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