Fic: Not In The Brochure
Apr. 20th, 2013 01:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyHere's a very silly fic, inspired by a comment from rebcake in red_satin_doll's journal.
Title: Not In The Brochure
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Fandom: Buffy
Word count: 600
Pairing: Buffy/Spike... sort of
Summary: It's the end of "Chosen." Spike is burning up in the Hellmouth, and Buffy's holding on to his hand, unable to let him go without telling him... except Spike has something to tell her, too. And it concerns her mother.
Not In The Brochure
As the last of the new Slayers made their way up the stairs, Buffy ran up to Spike. He seemed to be glowing, standing in the bright shaft of sunlight with an incredulous smile on his face as the medallion around his neck incinerated the übervamps in the cave below.
"Gotta move, lamb," he said as she grasped his hand. "I think it's fair to say school's out for bloody summer."
She looked in his eyes, where tears barely had time to form before evaporating from the heat. "Spike..."
"I mean it, I gotta do this," he insisted. With a reassuring smile, he added: "I made a promise to your mum."
Buffy had already opened her mouth to say something else, but now she frowned, mentally rewound what he'd just said and replied, "My... Huh? What? How? When?"
"About six years ago," Spike said. "Don't you remember? She hit me with an axe over the head and told me to get the hell away from her daughter."
"Sure, I remember, but... I'm kinda burning my hand here, and I don't see what that has to do with anything?"
Spike nodded meaningfully at the collapsing cave around them.
"What?"
"Well," he said, "not to brag, but I am bringing down the hellmouth. Getting it away from you and all."
Buffy nodded, getting the conversation back on track. "Right. Which is why I need to tell you wait, hang on a minute, are you saying..."
"Now you're getting it."
"...You're saying that the last few years have all been a cunning plan on your part to literally get the Hell - this Hell - away from me?"
"Uh-huh," Spike confirmed. "And from your daughters."
"My... daughters?" Buffy unconsciously brought up her free hand to check if she had mom hair.
"Well, metaphorically speaking. All the little Slayerlings."
Buffy stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head to clear it. "Whatever. I love y-"
"Yup, six years it took me. Your mum had a hell of a commanding voice," Spike said wistfully. "No wonder your room is always so neat."
"Would you stop talking about my mom!"
Spike, unperturbed, continued. "But this time, it's up to me to do the clean-up. It's what Joyce would have wanted. She was one classy lady."
She gave him the coolest stare she could under the circumstances. "Spike, I am trying to tell you that - OW!" Suddenly she let go of his hand and jumped up and down, shaking her hand in the air. "Son of a bitch!"
"Woah, young lady. Language!"
"My. Hand. Caught. Fire," Buffy told him through gritted teeth.
"Well, that's no reason to use that kind of language," he admonished her. "You need to set a good example for your daughters."
"They're not my - " Buffy brought her emotions back in check. Spike was burning up in front of her, the cave was falling in, and she probably didn't have much time. "Spike. Isn't there something you want to tell me?"
He focused those soulful, blue eyes on hers, leaned forward through the flames and said, "Buffy?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think Joyce will be waiting for me with a cup of cocoa in heaven? I mean, I don't mean to presume, but I am dying to save the world like she wanted, and..."
Buffy threw up her hands. "Fine. Yes, I'm sure she will, and I hope you'll be very happy together." She barely had time to see the huge grin that spread across his face before she stomped on up the stairs.
Spike craned his neck and called out after her: "Thanks for saying it!"
As the flames consumed him, he could have sworn he smelled marshmallows.
rebcake in red_satin_doll's journal.Title: Not In The Brochure
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Fandom: Buffy
Word count: 600
Pairing: Buffy/Spike... sort of
Summary: It's the end of "Chosen." Spike is burning up in the Hellmouth, and Buffy's holding on to his hand, unable to let him go without telling him... except Spike has something to tell her, too. And it concerns her mother.
Not In The Brochure
As the last of the new Slayers made their way up the stairs, Buffy ran up to Spike. He seemed to be glowing, standing in the bright shaft of sunlight with an incredulous smile on his face as the medallion around his neck incinerated the übervamps in the cave below.
"Gotta move, lamb," he said as she grasped his hand. "I think it's fair to say school's out for bloody summer."
She looked in his eyes, where tears barely had time to form before evaporating from the heat. "Spike..."
"I mean it, I gotta do this," he insisted. With a reassuring smile, he added: "I made a promise to your mum."
Buffy had already opened her mouth to say something else, but now she frowned, mentally rewound what he'd just said and replied, "My... Huh? What? How? When?"
"About six years ago," Spike said. "Don't you remember? She hit me with an axe over the head and told me to get the hell away from her daughter."
"Sure, I remember, but... I'm kinda burning my hand here, and I don't see what that has to do with anything?"
Spike nodded meaningfully at the collapsing cave around them.
"What?"
"Well," he said, "not to brag, but I am bringing down the hellmouth. Getting it away from you and all."
Buffy nodded, getting the conversation back on track. "Right. Which is why I need to tell you wait, hang on a minute, are you saying..."
"Now you're getting it."
"...You're saying that the last few years have all been a cunning plan on your part to literally get the Hell - this Hell - away from me?"
"Uh-huh," Spike confirmed. "And from your daughters."
"My... daughters?" Buffy unconsciously brought up her free hand to check if she had mom hair.
"Well, metaphorically speaking. All the little Slayerlings."
Buffy stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head to clear it. "Whatever. I love y-"
"Yup, six years it took me. Your mum had a hell of a commanding voice," Spike said wistfully. "No wonder your room is always so neat."
"Would you stop talking about my mom!"
Spike, unperturbed, continued. "But this time, it's up to me to do the clean-up. It's what Joyce would have wanted. She was one classy lady."
She gave him the coolest stare she could under the circumstances. "Spike, I am trying to tell you that - OW!" Suddenly she let go of his hand and jumped up and down, shaking her hand in the air. "Son of a bitch!"
"Woah, young lady. Language!"
"My. Hand. Caught. Fire," Buffy told him through gritted teeth.
"Well, that's no reason to use that kind of language," he admonished her. "You need to set a good example for your daughters."
"They're not my - " Buffy brought her emotions back in check. Spike was burning up in front of her, the cave was falling in, and she probably didn't have much time. "Spike. Isn't there something you want to tell me?"
He focused those soulful, blue eyes on hers, leaned forward through the flames and said, "Buffy?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think Joyce will be waiting for me with a cup of cocoa in heaven? I mean, I don't mean to presume, but I am dying to save the world like she wanted, and..."
Buffy threw up her hands. "Fine. Yes, I'm sure she will, and I hope you'll be very happy together." She barely had time to see the huge grin that spread across his face before she stomped on up the stairs.
Spike craned his neck and called out after her: "Thanks for saying it!"
As the flames consumed him, he could have sworn he smelled marshmallows.
