Out of Joint - Rough Draft

[sharelle]

Ack! I woke up this morning and totally felt like writing! (Of course, that always happens on days where I don't have a minute to spare.) I have so much running around to do today, since I'm helping my grandmother fix Easter dinner for when the cousins arrive. Regardless, I managed to hammer out a good bit of Out of Joint. However, there was a catch. My brain didn't seem to want to let me write anything other than a Spike/Buffy scene and, of course, the story wasn't quite ready for that yet. So I did something I rarely ever do . . . I skipped ahead a few chapters and wrote what I wanted to write.

I'm not sure how much this scene will change between now and when the action actually catches up to this point, but I was kinda happy with the way it turned out. It's completely unedited, unbeta'ed, and I've only gone back to read it once, but here is a snapshot of what I'm looking at for the next Spike/Buffy encounter in the story (when, I hope, the tale starts to get more Spuffy-centric). I'm estimating it to be around Chapter 9.

Hope you enjoy!


OoJ - Future Snippet

"Okay," Buffy rolled her eyes, but she never lowered the stake. "Between this new Cup of Torment and the dreaded Prophecy o' Sneezes, . . . now you just sound ridiculous. What the hell are you talking about?"

Spike's face remained dark, but his eyes softened. "I'm saying that I give up," he raised his hands. "I'm saying that something is going down and I need to figure it out, or the whole world might go to Hell in a hand basket."

"Jeez, Spike," Buffy snorted. "Self-important, much?"

"I'm saying," Spike continued, ignoring her sarcasm, "that this prophecy could lead to a serious big bad . . . and I need a little help to make sure it goes in the right direction."

"And by your standards, which 'direction' would be the 'right' one?" Buffy asked dubiously.

Spike set his mouth in a grim line. He was tired of pretending to her. Tired of wearing a face that wasn't him anymore. "Whichever one saves the world."

Buffy snorted again, taking that final step toward the grating, placing the two at an arm's reach (or a good solid staking distance) apart. "What makes you think I would help you do anything?" she hissed.

Spike blinked, tilting his head. With the exception of their fight yesterday, the last time she had been this close to him he had been looking at her through tongues of fire igniting from their joined hands. Right now, the fire was in her eyes, though still burning him. "Because," he answered, "saving the world is what you do, Slayer."

She paused for a moment, and Spike knew she was digesting the information. He could only hope she was believing it. She raised her chin after a beat and said, "Why would a vampire be interested in saving the world?"

Because I have a soul now, fleeted through his head. But, just like with the Watcher, Spike figured this reason would sound so far-fetched to her ears that it would be capable of severing any thin thread of belief forming in her mind. He fell back on a reason he knew she would believe – because she had before. "I like this world," he said, plainly though abbreviatedly. "There's plenty in it worth saving." As an afterthought, because he thought she'd be more likely to buy it, he added, "And I wouldn't want to send myself shooting off into oblivion, now would I?"

"Oh, yeah," Buffy drawled. "You're a self-sacrifice and a half."

Spike tilted his head again. His entire face softened to match his eyes. "I suppose it's only fair if you don't believe me, Buffy," he said. "'Course, if that's the case, there's a way you could take care of that problem." And then he did something he had only done twice before; twice when The First's control over him had been at its highest and his despair at the thought of betraying her at its lowest.

He lowered his arms and offered his chest to Buffy's stake.

It was a crazy gamble, and he knew it. After all, she had absolutely no reason to trust him. But there had always been something, perhaps even from these beginning days, that had prevented them from killing each other. If not a mutual love, then maybe at least a grudging respect that only one warrior can have for another. Besides, if the Shanshu was really meant for him then Spike had a feeling those Powers-That-Be wouldn't want to see their new Champion done in by the woman he loved. Then again, maybe they just had a warped sense of humor when it came to ironic justice.

Though, Spike thought, if it had to be anyone . . . he'd want it to be Buffy.

She locked eyes with him for a moment, hers a fraction wider than they'd been before. Spike tried to keep his expression even, but couldn't control the heavy rising and falling of his shoulders as his breaths reflexively deepened. They remained in that face-off for a timeless time. And then, without warning, Buffy let the stake fly.



And with that I leave you. *veg* I'm off to Granny's.


EDIT: By the way, there's more to the scene than this. It was just a little long to post the entire thing.

Comments

[deathisyourart.livejournal.com]

No by all means, submit an Illyria story. I WILL find you an artist, I promise!

[sharelle.livejournal.com]

Really? Thanks so much! *smooches*