Still Grrr

Title: The Streets of London
Author: lilachigh
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Characters belong to ME
Prompt: 010
Word Count: 999
Pairings: Spike and Buffy

Note: This is an extract from the first chp of my story Forever and a Day, the only one I have ever set solely in England. It is New Year’s Eve in London


Title: The Streets of London
Author: lilachigh
Prompt: 010
Pairings: Spike and Buffy
Word Count: 999



“Look, it’s New Year’s Eve and I haven’t got time to play games. Either go away or fight.”

She side-stepped as they rushed her. Two went down, then her foot slipped and the last one was on her, a knife to her face. Suddenly he was hauled away and sent flying. As she leapt up, he and his mates fled.

“Hey, thanks for your help, that was – ” She turned round, dusting herself down, then looked up at her rescuer, the words dying on her lips.

The hair was still blond but curlier. There were bruises and cuts on the face that was turning to human from vampire. But the eyes were still a blazing blue as he stood in the light of a street lamp.

“Spike,” she whispered.

“Buffy.”

“Spike.”

“I think we’ve already established that, pet.”

“What....” her head was spinning and she reached out a hand. But he didn’t move.

“How are you?”

“How am I? Oh, I’m very well. Absolutely first class, as you Brits would say. Top hole, old bean. Tally ho. God save the Queen. Rule Britannia!” Buffy had never felt so angry in her entire life. She stepped forward and slapped his face, sending him slamming against a wall.

“How dare you appear out of nowhere and ask me how I am? How dare you be not all dead and burnt up and not contact me.” Every word was accompanied by a slap which he fended off easily.

She couldn’t see where she was hitting; the tears were running down her face now, blinding her. She hated him! Hated, loathed, despised him. Then two leather-clad arms were tight round her, holding her against his chest.

Buffy allowed herself a moment to be held, then pushed him away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself all over again. He didn’t love her, didn’t want to be with her. She had her pride, even if he’d left her nothing else. No life, no heart, no future.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve had a bad day. I’m pleased to see you, Spike. I heard you’d come back after the Hellmouth and were living in L.A. with Angel. How’s that been for you?”

The vampire stepped away. His hands went back into his pockets, two clenched fists that he couldn’t relax. “Interesting. Sad. Tragic. We lost some good people. Apocalypse, the usual sodding thing. Big evil. Big battle.”

“Saved the world again?”

“Getting to be a habit, pet,” he drawled. His voice changed, became deeper. “Wesley’s dead. He left research papers for Giles – I’m delivering them. Saw you leaving his posh pad and followed. Then the muggers jumped you and I stood admiring until – ”

“Until you thought I needed help. I could have managed, but thank you,” she said politely, determined not to show how upset she was. “I must go. I’ll remember you to Dawn, shall I? Remember Dawn? My sister? Tall. Dark hair. It’ll be difficult to explain why you never bothered to contact us, but I’m sure she’ll understand when I explain about the end-of-the-world scenario.”

Spike shifted uncomfortably. “Didn’t think you’d want to hear from me, if I’m honest.”

“Honest? Well, that’s a word to conjure with. When were you ever honest with me? What about, ‘I love you.’ No? Oh, then how about ‘ that was the best night of my life.’ What rubbish. No, don’t say anything! It really doesn’t matter. Oh, look, there’s a cab!”

“Wait a minute. We need to talk.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I’d rather talk to the First!”

The streets around Trafalgar Square were packed with people, singing, laughing, shouting, all moving towards the square as the time ticked down to midnight. Buffy let herself be pulled along by the crowd. Her fury had gone as the cold realisation swept over her that she’d made a dreadful mistake.

This was the only chance she’d ever have to tell Spike what she was feeling. She turned to retrace her steps, but the crush of people was too great. Then there was Nelson’s Column with the Admiral himself standing high above them. The giant Christmas tree still blazed with lights, but the fountains in the Square had been turned off.

“LET ME PASS! Please, I need to get back to Limehouse!” Buffy tried to fight her way clear, then suddenly realised she wasn’t pressed against soft human flesh. The arms holding her were like steel, his grip tight, even cruel.

“My turn to talk, Slayer.” He carved a way through the crowd, pulling her with him. His long stride took him out of the Square, under Admiralty Arch, into the Mall, the long road that lead down to Buckingham Palace. Seconds later they were standing under the trees in the park.

It was very dark, the noise of the celebrations a long way away. Spike grasped her shoulders. “Listen, Slayer. I’ve never bloody well lied to you about how I feel. I tried to see you, but whatever force brought me back, wouldn’t let me. Then I got cold feet. You’d moved on. What was I going to say? Hi, Buffy, remember you said you loved me just as I was about to go up in flames, how about a shag?”

“You came to Rome - ”

“Remember who you were with? Can’t stand the bloke, but if he was your choice, then what right had I to butt in?”

“Every right, you - you - poop! That’s the whole point!” Buffy could feel the anger building again.

Spike’s lips twitched at her words, then the humour died from his eyes. “Every right?” he muttered, pushing the blonde hair away from her face. “Do you mean that, Buffy? Don’t tease. This is too important. If you mean it...”

For a second the world hung silent between them, then sonorously, the chimes of Big Ben began to toll. It was the beginning of the New Year.