Title: Just For Tonight
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: R (for violence and sexual content -- no, not at the same time, sorry.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of it belongs to me, I'm just borrowing from Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. And sharing with y'all for entertainment purposes only. :)
Feedback: Yes, please. As always, encouragement is enjoyed and criticism is much appreciated. I may continue with this as a series, or I may not. Depends on how talkative my muse is.
Spike brushed vamp dust off himself as he stood, turning in time to see Faith stake a second with practiced ease. He frowned down at the cracked leather of his coat in frustration.
"Somethin' wrong, sweetcheeks?"
He raised an eyebrow at the brunette Slayer, who was panting only slightly from her slaying efforts. "Eh, just the coat. Hasn't been the same since that Caleb fellow drenched me in a river of wine." He looked around at the silent alley. "That the lot, you suppose?"
It was the third night since their botched attack on Evil Preacher Guy, the third night in a row Faith had volunteered to take over patrolling duty while Buffy watched over the wounded Potentials and fretted over her precious mutilated Xander. Spike had tagged along just for something to do at first, but he had come to appreciate the new Slayer's easy attitude and raunchy humor. Certainly a welcome change from the gloom and doom and angst back at Rivello Drive.
Faith grinned around the cigarette she was lighting. "You sound all disappointed. Haven't gotten enough violence tonight?"
Spike smirked and pulled out a fag of his own. Somehow he'd managed to hold onto his trust Zippo through all the madness of the last year, and for a moment he just reveled in its solid, familiar click and flick. He took a long drag, and was about to reply with something appropriately witty when Faith started at something behind him. He whipped around to see a trio of Bringers at the mouth of the alley. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out. Faith was already armed with a knife of her own, like a fantasy dagger with a curved handle and split blade. Odd, that. I suppose I'll ask her about that later, like when we're NOT in the middle of a fight to the death. She grinned a feral grin.
"Oh goody. More violence."
Now that's my kinda girl, he thought as they launched themselves at the three. Then for a few minutes there was no more thought, only action. Duck a wide dagger swipe. Rapid double kick, gut and neck, hurl First guy against the wall, pin him their and use him as leverage for a straight side kick at Second Guy's chin. Open hand strike to the wrist to disarm First Guy, flip him onto the ground, snatch dagger and plunge its curved length below First Guy's sternum. Regroup standing, still gripping Bringer's knife . . . only to find Faith snapping Second Guy's neck in a reverse choke-hold. Third Guy lay already motionless at her feet, sucking chest wound drenched with a small red stain. The dead never bled much.
Faith dropped the Bringer with a little shudder, as if shaking off a bad memory. She took a step toward Spike and suddenly winced, clutching her side. He tucked the dagger in his belt and was at her side in an instant, supporting her.
"You all right, luv?"
She straightened and shrugged him off. "Yeah, terrific. Cracked a couple ribs down in L.A. That first guy had a wicked back, kick, just reminded me."
Spike nodded, but without an excess of visible sympathy. Somehow he didn't think sympathy would go over too well with this girl. They emerged together from the alley, and Spike jerked his head towards Willy's place, just across the street.
"Buy you a drink?"
She threw a playful punch at his arm (leaving a healthy bruise) and grinned. "You're on."
Several hours later, the two of them staggered out arm-in-arm. Faith kept grabbing Spike's ass, and his whisky-muddled brain was having trouble figuring out if he minded. After all, he'd spent much of last year as a Slayer's sex-pet, and that certainly hadn't ended up well. Not that he hadn't had a helluva good time doing it. As he was contemplating this, Faith steered him to a darkened corner just out of sight of the bar's entrance. Pinning his hips to the wall with the flats of both hands, she lunged in and kissed him sloppily, like she was trying to lick out the roof of his mouth with her tongue. It was weird, messy, and really, really hot. Or maybe the hot was just having the taste of a Slayer in his mouth again.
That woke Spike's brain up a bit. Fighting off Faith's roaming tongue, he tried to express his concern in words. He was pretty sure he managed to spit out "no", "stop", and "Buffy", but not much else. Faith seemed to understand, though. Grasping the back of his head firmly, she nipped his lower lip once before pulling back to study his face. "You love her, don't you?"
Spike nodded, at least as much as he could manage with the Slayer keeping a death-grip on his hair. He decided the nod needed some qualification. As she released him and took a small step back, he sighed heavily. "I love her. I got a soul for her."
Faith shook her head, smirking slightly. "Damn. All the cool vampires just fall in love with that girl." She took a step towards him, and suddenly she was giving him bedroom eyes and dropping her voice a good half-octave. She placed both hand on his chest and slid one down to stroke the fabric at Spike's groin, under which he was hardening against his better judgment. "I'm not asking you to love me, Spike. I'm not asking you to betray anything." That same hand, nimble and strong, slowly undid his belt buckle. "I'm definitely not asking you to make love to me." The word 'love' was infused with scorn, as if she hardly believed in the concept. Faith's other hand joined the show below Spike's waist and unbuttoned his fly, teasing the zipper down. "Besides, how much longer can you wait for the Ice Queen? The apocalypse could be for real this time." Both hands slid inside his waistband and rested on his ass. She rose on tiptoe and leaned in close to his ear, whisky on her breath, full breasts squashed against his upper ribs, and whispered. "Just let it all go. Just for tonight."
Then Faith was down on her knees, yanking Spike's trousers down to his ankles, and her lips and that strong tongue were owning his cock. Her hands returned to his ass, kneading it in rhythm with her stroking tongue, and he took one of her hands in one of his, clasping her fingers harshly and then gently. He tangled his other hand in her hair and dropped his head back onto the wall; he let it all go, let go of all the worries and guilt and heartbreak and pain and just lived. Just for tonight. But then the illusion threatened to shatter. He saw Buffy's glaring face behind his closed eyes, and he whimpered Buffy's name as he came in the other Slayer's mouth; he wasn't sure she hadn't noticed. If she did notice, she apparently decided to ignore it as she stood again, taking his face in the hand that wasn't still clasped in his and kissing him again, more gently, tasting of her blood and her sweat and their whiskey and his semen.
This time Spike saw the Bringers first, just two of them, just passing by. Probably off to find fresh young girls to stab. He pointed them out, pulled his trousers up shaky legs, drew the stolen dagger, and joined Faith in taking them down. She grinned at him with flushed cheeks as she stabbed her guy with his own knife, then push-kicked him aside. As Spike was somewhat off his game due to the shaky-legs phenomenon, the other Bringer had gotten in a lucky slice on Faith's upper arm, short but deep. It was bleeding freely. She smirked. "We better get home, sweetcheeks. I'll let you play nurse on this cut here."
Spike watched her stride off, the scent of her Slayer blood strong in his nostrils. Good a way to get by as any, he supposed. Snagging the Bringer's dagger Faith had left behind, he stomped off after her, chuckling softly. The girl definitely wasn't finished with him for tonight. Spike was having trouble figuring out if he minded.