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snoggedI'm pleased to bring you the latest chapter of Self-Destruct Button. Enjoy!
Title: Self-Destruct Button (8/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and many other corporations own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1340
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually)
Setting: Buffy – Post “Chosen”/Angel – set shortly after “Damage.”
Summary: Willow gets a party invitation from a certain warlock in Los Angeles.
Beta(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
angelskuuipo and purplefeen. All other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Written forrua1412 who inspired me with her gorgeous artwork.
Banner byrua1412
As Spike cursed the fifth red light they’d come to since leaving Wolfram and Hart, Willow popped the catch on her purse and retrieved Vail’s invitation. The information hadn’t changed much. It still listed his name, the address of the party, and the time. But there was one small difference. A map had appeared, one that was vaguely like the ones generated by Mapquest, only this one showed the marks of a true sorcerer as it showed what was obviously their car stopped in the middle of the thick red line.
“Neat trick,” Willow murmured. She knew that something of that caliber, something that would affect every single recipient of these invitations, required some serious temporal shifting. This guy was definitely good at his craft. In fact, he might be too good. He might be better than she was. He might be…Shoot,Willow thought. What if Giles and Kennedy were right? What if she was being irrational and stupid and dragging Spike to his third round with death?
A breath hitched in her throat as the stoplight above them turned green. Instead of stomping down on the accelerator, though, Spike leaned over the stick shift, pressed his shoulder against her and scoffed at the shifting image. “Parlor trick, love. Bet you could do that in your sleep.”
The smooth fabric of Spike’s suit coat pressing against her bare skin made Willow draw in another sharp breath. But it wasn’t one of those he’s-gonna-bite-me-inhales that she remembered from the previous times Spike had been in such close contact with her. It was one of those oh-gosh-am-I-still-gay-if-I-kinda-like-this-inhales. It was also one of those this-is-Harmony’s-fault-inhales since it was the perky vampire who had gotten her confused enough to think about Spike in ways she never had before. Ways that would probably make Xander and Buffy question her sanity.
Buffy!
That was the solution to her dilemma. All she needed to do was make him talk about Buffy. Surely, he still had feelings for her. Perhaps, when this party was over, the two of them could head to Italy for a merry reunion. But would it actually be merry? Buffy hadn’t sounded too happy when Willow brought up Spike on the phone. In fact, Buffy had sounded hollow and super avoid-y.
Not exactly the traits of a girl still in love with the sexy blond vampire.
Sexy?
Willow was thinking of Spike as sexy now? Oh boy. This was bad. This was not the type of thing that girls with broken hearts are supposed to do. This was….
It was a fluke, Willow decided, putting the kibosh on her internal ramblings. She had always had a history of acting funny when formal wear was part of the equation. She’d even told Xander at his wedding that she would switch teams because he looked damn good in his tux. This was no different. She would just have to keep herself in check until morning and then everything would be back to normal.
Except that things were far from normal right now. The green light had changed back to red already and the car hadn’t moved. Before she could ask Spike why, however, he released the catch on her safety belt and pressed his lips against her ear.
“When I tell you to move, you open that door and you roll, pet. Got it?”
“What?” Willow asked, furrowing her eyebrows. That was when the driver’s side window shattered, most of it hitting the ground. It wasn’t until Spike roared in pain that she realized that several small shards of glass had embedded themselves in his cheek.
“Spike!” Willow shouted in alarm, fear flashing in her eyes as blood dribbled down the side of Spike’s face.
“Move!” Spike yelled back, wrenching the door open and hurtling himself towards their attacker.
As Willow opened the passenger’s side door, she caught sight of the large rust-colored demon sporting huge fangs taking a swing at Spike, who managed to duck underneath it while simultaneously bringing up his fist to sock the demon in the jaw. Willow’s dread transformed into relief as the power behind Spike’s punch sent the demon flying across the intersection and into the front door of some poor CPA who would have quite the mess to clean up come Monday.
“And stay down!” Spike quipped, crunching the shattered glass into the pavement as he cocked his hip. It was an action Willow had seen countless times, usually accompanied by the dramatic swish of his leather duster. The time it was the coat tails that moved, accentuating the curve of his ass in a way the duster never had. It reminded her of Sean Connery in the James Bond moves and it heightened the uncomfortable stirrings in her core. Was she really developing a crush on Spike?
Don’t go there, Rosenberg.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to as Spike chose that moment to turn back to face her and promptly started pulling the glass shards from his cheek.
“Bloody fuck,” Spike hissed, wincing as he retrieved the second and third pieces from his skin.
“What was that?” Willow asked, concern imprinted on her features. Unconsciously, she reached over and pulled the white handkerchief from Spike’s breast pocket. Gently, she touched the folded edge of the fabric to his cheek and dabbed at the already fading cuts.
“Kith’hern demons. Stupid buggers. Had a row with six of ‘em in Barcelona ‘bout a decade and a half ago. They all went down like bricks by the time I was done,” Spike said, peering at her through hooded eyes as she continued to rub his cheek. “Red….”
“Oh,” Willow paused, letting her hand drop back to her side.
“Don’t need to stop, pet. Stroke all you like.” Spike smirked.
Willow tightened her grip on the hankie and a blush flooded her cheeks. He’d teased her like this earlier, but now it was just…. It just made things worse. “I’m….”
“Capable of seeing the beauty in both genders,” Spike finished softly. “Known you long enough to know that it’s not the equipment you’re attracted to, love, but what’s on the inside. Though what you saw on the inside of the whelp, I’ll honestly never know.”
Willow nodded slowly, understanding where his insight was coming from and letting the words “gay, now” die on her lips. There was no power in those words now, nor was there total truth to them anymore.
“Now, let’s get to you that ball, Cinderella,” Spike replied.
Willow nodded again and followed Spike down the side alley, away from the wrecked Viper and away from the demon.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough away.
Several rumbling growls introduced seven more Kith’hern demons; each one looking more intimidating than the one beside it.
Spike put up his fists, slipping into his fighting stance, but Willow had a better idea. Grabbing him by the wrist, she used her other hand to hike up her dress and started running into the demon pack. Spike flashed her a weird look, but shrugged it off as they headed towards the brood. Right as the leader of the pack reached forward to grab Willow, a loud pop signaled their disappearance.
They emerged with a crack and sizzle at the feet of an ancient red-skinned wizard with stringy, yellowish-white hair. Willow fought down the urge to inhale once she saw the IV needles and tubes protruding from his weathered skin. Usually, she wasn’t opposed to the smell of retirement homes, but she could smell enough of him to know that it went far beyond the usual smells of bleach, urine, and death.
On either side of his ornately-designed chair were a half-dozen assorted men, dressed only in linen undergarments with thick chains around their necks.
“Cyvus Vail?” Willow asked, doing her best to focus her attention on Cyvus instead of on his harem of exposed, probably non-consensually exhibitionist, slaves.
“Thank you for not killing all of my guards,” Vail replied in slow, even tones, steepling his fingers as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. “And welcome to my party.”
Chapter 9
Title: Self-Destruct Button (8/?)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and many other corporations own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Word Count: 1340
Overall Rating/Warnings: FRAO/NC-17 (eventually)
Setting: Buffy – Post “Chosen”/Angel – set shortly after “Damage.”
Summary: Willow gets a party invitation from a certain warlock in Los Angeles.
Beta(s):
angelskuuipo and purplefeen. All other mistakes are mine.A/N: Written for
rua1412 who inspired me with her gorgeous artwork.Banner by
rua1412As Spike cursed the fifth red light they’d come to since leaving Wolfram and Hart, Willow popped the catch on her purse and retrieved Vail’s invitation. The information hadn’t changed much. It still listed his name, the address of the party, and the time. But there was one small difference. A map had appeared, one that was vaguely like the ones generated by Mapquest, only this one showed the marks of a true sorcerer as it showed what was obviously their car stopped in the middle of the thick red line.
“Neat trick,” Willow murmured. She knew that something of that caliber, something that would affect every single recipient of these invitations, required some serious temporal shifting. This guy was definitely good at his craft. In fact, he might be too good. He might be better than she was. He might be…Shoot,Willow thought. What if Giles and Kennedy were right? What if she was being irrational and stupid and dragging Spike to his third round with death?
A breath hitched in her throat as the stoplight above them turned green. Instead of stomping down on the accelerator, though, Spike leaned over the stick shift, pressed his shoulder against her and scoffed at the shifting image. “Parlor trick, love. Bet you could do that in your sleep.”
The smooth fabric of Spike’s suit coat pressing against her bare skin made Willow draw in another sharp breath. But it wasn’t one of those he’s-gonna-bite-me-inhales that she remembered from the previous times Spike had been in such close contact with her. It was one of those oh-gosh-am-I-still-gay-if-I-kinda-like-this-inhales. It was also one of those this-is-Harmony’s-fault-inhales since it was the perky vampire who had gotten her confused enough to think about Spike in ways she never had before. Ways that would probably make Xander and Buffy question her sanity.
Buffy!
That was the solution to her dilemma. All she needed to do was make him talk about Buffy. Surely, he still had feelings for her. Perhaps, when this party was over, the two of them could head to Italy for a merry reunion. But would it actually be merry? Buffy hadn’t sounded too happy when Willow brought up Spike on the phone. In fact, Buffy had sounded hollow and super avoid-y.
Not exactly the traits of a girl still in love with the sexy blond vampire.
Sexy?
Willow was thinking of Spike as sexy now? Oh boy. This was bad. This was not the type of thing that girls with broken hearts are supposed to do. This was….
It was a fluke, Willow decided, putting the kibosh on her internal ramblings. She had always had a history of acting funny when formal wear was part of the equation. She’d even told Xander at his wedding that she would switch teams because he looked damn good in his tux. This was no different. She would just have to keep herself in check until morning and then everything would be back to normal.
Except that things were far from normal right now. The green light had changed back to red already and the car hadn’t moved. Before she could ask Spike why, however, he released the catch on her safety belt and pressed his lips against her ear.
“When I tell you to move, you open that door and you roll, pet. Got it?”
“What?” Willow asked, furrowing her eyebrows. That was when the driver’s side window shattered, most of it hitting the ground. It wasn’t until Spike roared in pain that she realized that several small shards of glass had embedded themselves in his cheek.
“Spike!” Willow shouted in alarm, fear flashing in her eyes as blood dribbled down the side of Spike’s face.
“Move!” Spike yelled back, wrenching the door open and hurtling himself towards their attacker.
As Willow opened the passenger’s side door, she caught sight of the large rust-colored demon sporting huge fangs taking a swing at Spike, who managed to duck underneath it while simultaneously bringing up his fist to sock the demon in the jaw. Willow’s dread transformed into relief as the power behind Spike’s punch sent the demon flying across the intersection and into the front door of some poor CPA who would have quite the mess to clean up come Monday.
“And stay down!” Spike quipped, crunching the shattered glass into the pavement as he cocked his hip. It was an action Willow had seen countless times, usually accompanied by the dramatic swish of his leather duster. The time it was the coat tails that moved, accentuating the curve of his ass in a way the duster never had. It reminded her of Sean Connery in the James Bond moves and it heightened the uncomfortable stirrings in her core. Was she really developing a crush on Spike?
Don’t go there, Rosenberg.
Thankfully, she didn’t have to as Spike chose that moment to turn back to face her and promptly started pulling the glass shards from his cheek.
“Bloody fuck,” Spike hissed, wincing as he retrieved the second and third pieces from his skin.
“What was that?” Willow asked, concern imprinted on her features. Unconsciously, she reached over and pulled the white handkerchief from Spike’s breast pocket. Gently, she touched the folded edge of the fabric to his cheek and dabbed at the already fading cuts.
“Kith’hern demons. Stupid buggers. Had a row with six of ‘em in Barcelona ‘bout a decade and a half ago. They all went down like bricks by the time I was done,” Spike said, peering at her through hooded eyes as she continued to rub his cheek. “Red….”
“Oh,” Willow paused, letting her hand drop back to her side.
“Don’t need to stop, pet. Stroke all you like.” Spike smirked.
Willow tightened her grip on the hankie and a blush flooded her cheeks. He’d teased her like this earlier, but now it was just…. It just made things worse. “I’m….”
“Capable of seeing the beauty in both genders,” Spike finished softly. “Known you long enough to know that it’s not the equipment you’re attracted to, love, but what’s on the inside. Though what you saw on the inside of the whelp, I’ll honestly never know.”
Willow nodded slowly, understanding where his insight was coming from and letting the words “gay, now” die on her lips. There was no power in those words now, nor was there total truth to them anymore.
“Now, let’s get to you that ball, Cinderella,” Spike replied.
Willow nodded again and followed Spike down the side alley, away from the wrecked Viper and away from the demon.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough away.
Several rumbling growls introduced seven more Kith’hern demons; each one looking more intimidating than the one beside it.
Spike put up his fists, slipping into his fighting stance, but Willow had a better idea. Grabbing him by the wrist, she used her other hand to hike up her dress and started running into the demon pack. Spike flashed her a weird look, but shrugged it off as they headed towards the brood. Right as the leader of the pack reached forward to grab Willow, a loud pop signaled their disappearance.
They emerged with a crack and sizzle at the feet of an ancient red-skinned wizard with stringy, yellowish-white hair. Willow fought down the urge to inhale once she saw the IV needles and tubes protruding from his weathered skin. Usually, she wasn’t opposed to the smell of retirement homes, but she could smell enough of him to know that it went far beyond the usual smells of bleach, urine, and death.
On either side of his ornately-designed chair were a half-dozen assorted men, dressed only in linen undergarments with thick chains around their necks.
“Cyvus Vail?” Willow asked, doing her best to focus her attention on Cyvus instead of on his harem of exposed, probably non-consensually exhibitionist, slaves.
“Thank you for not killing all of my guards,” Vail replied in slow, even tones, steepling his fingers as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. “And welcome to my party.”
Chapter 9
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2011-03-21 01:49 pm (UTC)Loved this chapter!
So Willow's secret is up.. great!
I sooo need to create a banner with Spike wearing a tuxedo!
no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:26 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-21 04:45 pm (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-21 09:05 pm (UTC)Loved Willow's thoughts on Spikes actions reminding her of James Bond! :D
*kisses* xxx
no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-21 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-21 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-22 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-22 03:24 am (UTC)The same ones Angel nearly broke in half during "Origin."
no subject
on 2011-03-22 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-22 11:06 am (UTC)But this is, in fact, Part 8. I just double-checked.
no subject
on 2011-03-23 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-23 11:12 am (UTC)That was supposed to be my entry at
no subject
on 2011-03-30 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2011-03-30 10:15 pm (UTC)And a new chapter will be posted next week Monday.
no subject
on 2011-05-07 07:31 pm (UTC)And woo! Willow and Spike kicking ass! This party's going to be an interesting one...
no subject
on 2011-05-09 04:08 am (UTC)I figured Willow and Spike deserved to kick some ass.