Post by sosa lola on Sept 6, 2010 18:50:54 GMT -5
Title: Lost Hero
Author: Sosa Lola
Characters: Xander and Spike
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Season Eight #36 Last Gleaming: Part 1
Note: The idea came from fangfaceandrea's comment in my #36's review.
Thanks to lusciousspike and diebirchen for the wonderful editing.
Being inside a real spaceship was one of my dreams as a kid –I kinda lost interest after Star Trek: Voyager. Anyway, Spike's steampunk spaceship isn't exactly what I had in mind. Neither are his weird giant bug astronauts. The whole place is like a big junk yard - which, not that shocking, bugs like to hang around dumpsters.
Dawn is not a big fan though. She argued that there's a reason why bugs are small-sized: so people can swat them. I expressed my surprise that Dawn isn't more sympathetic seeing as she knows what it's like to grow to ten times your normal size. I got an eye patch pull-n-smack for that. I figured she needs some water to cool down and left her with Willow. Nothing like a powerful Wicca to make her feel safe from the bug-infested air.
I find the king of bugs yelling orders at his bug crew, acting like some big shot colonel. His Majesty stomps his foot in frustration and storms into a back room. I peer at the control room where the bugs are carrying out the commands, knowing that it's very unlikely I'll find a fridge there. I follow Spike to the back room; years of watching him drinking beer, devouring onion rings – not to mention the Weetabix he'd stolen from Giles - tell me he'll have some human nourishment at hand.
The room is smaller and darker than the rest with more visible wires. It looks like a storage room, except without the storage. Spike is standing in front of a big window, his forehead is pressed against the glass and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. Honestly, I've grown tired of witnessing Buffy's knotty romances with her vamp wonders, so I decide to leave.
"Want something?"
I hear the murmured question just when I'm about to retreat. Well, since he asked. "Got anything to drink in the Spikemobile?"
"If you're asking for beer, then no. The crew frowns on drinking."
I blink. Spike gave up beer for the sake of his acolytes? That's… okay. "No, looking for cold water."
"Sorry, mate. This old vamp has no use for water."
"Except to shower." Silence. "Right?" I ask hopefully.
When Spike doesn't answer, I crinkle my nose. "Guess I'm gonna tell Dawn she'll have to wait for the next stop." I'm about to turn to the door, but then I notice his fist - firm of grip and shaking. I narrow my eye at it, knowing that leaving Spike like this won't do us any good.
"You're pissed off."
Spike's fist stops shaking. "What?"
"Nothing, just… people make drastic mistakes when they're upset. We wanna save the world and still be alive."
Spike chuckles dryly. "You will. You lot always do."
My eyebrows fly to my hairline in amusement. "Do I sense bitterness? Coming from the vamp who came back from the dead?"
He doesn't say anything, but at least his fist unfolds, and he appears calmer. Mission accomplished. That is my cue to leave. I turn to the door.
"I understand how…" Spike's low voice trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence.
I hang my head; this conversation is taking way too long for my liking. I purse my lips, turning around, and in a dramatic move raise my hands to the air. "Huh?"
"Never mind," he mutters.
I fold my arms across my chest. "No, what?"
Spike's shoulders heave as he sighs, regretting he said anything. "That night. You swinging an axe to my head."
Memory takes me back to one of the worst years of my life –one I'm not particularly proud of. I remember the pain, the rage, and the homicidal feelings simmering inside of me, suffocating me. The axe I snatched from Buffy's weapon chest that proved to be useless, which evidently came to our advantage.
"You wanna swing an axe at Angel?" I ask with a snigger. "Save your time, 'cause he'll still come back."
"And Buffy," Spike's voice is tight with an undertone of loathing. "You remember what you said to Anya? Your words? Your disgust?"
I lift my arms, stopping him right there. "Hey, that's my best friend you're talking about." What Buffy did is obviously far worse than what Anya had done, but there's no way… I can't inflict that expression I put on Anya's face that night on Buffy as well. And I won't allow Spike to do that.
"Look, I get it," I say, going for gentle, but somehow it came out a little rude. "You're angry. But you weren't here, Spike. You haven't seen what she'd been through."
Spike scoffs. "You were there before, and yet it didn't stop you from ordering her out of her own house."
Feeling as if I were slapped, I swallow as something swells up inside of me. I consider leaving, ending this conversation, but my feet won’t budge. I can only stare at them defeated.
"It doesn't matter if I were here or not," Spike goes on. "What she did was… ludicrous. Below her. It's not her. The Buffy I know would never stoop this low."
I look up, and Spike's fists are back, shaking harder this time. So furious. His words and tone are full of spite and revulsion. "You're right," I say softly. "But… I've learned that Buffy is as much a flawed human as she is a hero, and putting her on a high pedestal will only damage her."
Spike shakes his head. "You have no idea what she did, do you?"
"I know. Big mistake. Hell gates open. New apocalypse. Nothing we haven't faced before, except for the stinky spaceship and bug minions." I take a step forward. "Taking shots at Buffy won't do us good right now. We need to be together, or else we're dead."
"Think I don't know that?" Spike snaps.
"Then stop the brood session you got going on, mate," I say pointedly. "Better get down to business." I run a hand through my sweat dampened hair and then grimace in disgust. "Gotta get back to my girlfriend."
Spike's body stiffens. He swivels around, looking at me for the first time since I showed up. I watch amused as Spike's eyes turn comically wide. "Dawn is your girlfriend?" he spits out indecorously.
I burst into laughter, waving him off. "You’re way off your game, Spike." I stop right at the door, and look at him over my shoulder. "Turn off the green lights and mind your bugs."
Then End
Author: Sosa Lola
Characters: Xander and Spike
Genre: Gen
Spoilers: Season Eight #36 Last Gleaming: Part 1
Note: The idea came from fangfaceandrea's comment in my #36's review.
Thanks to lusciousspike and diebirchen for the wonderful editing.
~*~*~*~
Lost Hero
Being inside a real spaceship was one of my dreams as a kid –I kinda lost interest after Star Trek: Voyager. Anyway, Spike's steampunk spaceship isn't exactly what I had in mind. Neither are his weird giant bug astronauts. The whole place is like a big junk yard - which, not that shocking, bugs like to hang around dumpsters.
Dawn is not a big fan though. She argued that there's a reason why bugs are small-sized: so people can swat them. I expressed my surprise that Dawn isn't more sympathetic seeing as she knows what it's like to grow to ten times your normal size. I got an eye patch pull-n-smack for that. I figured she needs some water to cool down and left her with Willow. Nothing like a powerful Wicca to make her feel safe from the bug-infested air.
I find the king of bugs yelling orders at his bug crew, acting like some big shot colonel. His Majesty stomps his foot in frustration and storms into a back room. I peer at the control room where the bugs are carrying out the commands, knowing that it's very unlikely I'll find a fridge there. I follow Spike to the back room; years of watching him drinking beer, devouring onion rings – not to mention the Weetabix he'd stolen from Giles - tell me he'll have some human nourishment at hand.
The room is smaller and darker than the rest with more visible wires. It looks like a storage room, except without the storage. Spike is standing in front of a big window, his forehead is pressed against the glass and his eyes are squeezed tightly shut. Honestly, I've grown tired of witnessing Buffy's knotty romances with her vamp wonders, so I decide to leave.
"Want something?"
I hear the murmured question just when I'm about to retreat. Well, since he asked. "Got anything to drink in the Spikemobile?"
"If you're asking for beer, then no. The crew frowns on drinking."
I blink. Spike gave up beer for the sake of his acolytes? That's… okay. "No, looking for cold water."
"Sorry, mate. This old vamp has no use for water."
"Except to shower." Silence. "Right?" I ask hopefully.
When Spike doesn't answer, I crinkle my nose. "Guess I'm gonna tell Dawn she'll have to wait for the next stop." I'm about to turn to the door, but then I notice his fist - firm of grip and shaking. I narrow my eye at it, knowing that leaving Spike like this won't do us any good.
"You're pissed off."
Spike's fist stops shaking. "What?"
"Nothing, just… people make drastic mistakes when they're upset. We wanna save the world and still be alive."
Spike chuckles dryly. "You will. You lot always do."
My eyebrows fly to my hairline in amusement. "Do I sense bitterness? Coming from the vamp who came back from the dead?"
He doesn't say anything, but at least his fist unfolds, and he appears calmer. Mission accomplished. That is my cue to leave. I turn to the door.
"I understand how…" Spike's low voice trails off, and he doesn't finish the sentence.
I hang my head; this conversation is taking way too long for my liking. I purse my lips, turning around, and in a dramatic move raise my hands to the air. "Huh?"
"Never mind," he mutters.
I fold my arms across my chest. "No, what?"
Spike's shoulders heave as he sighs, regretting he said anything. "That night. You swinging an axe to my head."
Memory takes me back to one of the worst years of my life –one I'm not particularly proud of. I remember the pain, the rage, and the homicidal feelings simmering inside of me, suffocating me. The axe I snatched from Buffy's weapon chest that proved to be useless, which evidently came to our advantage.
"You wanna swing an axe at Angel?" I ask with a snigger. "Save your time, 'cause he'll still come back."
"And Buffy," Spike's voice is tight with an undertone of loathing. "You remember what you said to Anya? Your words? Your disgust?"
I lift my arms, stopping him right there. "Hey, that's my best friend you're talking about." What Buffy did is obviously far worse than what Anya had done, but there's no way… I can't inflict that expression I put on Anya's face that night on Buffy as well. And I won't allow Spike to do that.
"Look, I get it," I say, going for gentle, but somehow it came out a little rude. "You're angry. But you weren't here, Spike. You haven't seen what she'd been through."
Spike scoffs. "You were there before, and yet it didn't stop you from ordering her out of her own house."
Feeling as if I were slapped, I swallow as something swells up inside of me. I consider leaving, ending this conversation, but my feet won’t budge. I can only stare at them defeated.
"It doesn't matter if I were here or not," Spike goes on. "What she did was… ludicrous. Below her. It's not her. The Buffy I know would never stoop this low."
I look up, and Spike's fists are back, shaking harder this time. So furious. His words and tone are full of spite and revulsion. "You're right," I say softly. "But… I've learned that Buffy is as much a flawed human as she is a hero, and putting her on a high pedestal will only damage her."
Spike shakes his head. "You have no idea what she did, do you?"
"I know. Big mistake. Hell gates open. New apocalypse. Nothing we haven't faced before, except for the stinky spaceship and bug minions." I take a step forward. "Taking shots at Buffy won't do us good right now. We need to be together, or else we're dead."
"Think I don't know that?" Spike snaps.
"Then stop the brood session you got going on, mate," I say pointedly. "Better get down to business." I run a hand through my sweat dampened hair and then grimace in disgust. "Gotta get back to my girlfriend."
Spike's body stiffens. He swivels around, looking at me for the first time since I showed up. I watch amused as Spike's eyes turn comically wide. "Dawn is your girlfriend?" he spits out indecorously.
I burst into laughter, waving him off. "You’re way off your game, Spike." I stop right at the door, and look at him over my shoulder. "Turn off the green lights and mind your bugs."
Then End