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sb_fag_ends2012-02-10 06:57 pm
brutti-ma-buoni.livejournal.com) wrote in sb_fag_ends2012-02-10 06:57 pm
Entry tags:
Plan A (PG13, Team Slayer'verse)
Title Plan A
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG13
Words 1000
Prompt Breakfast in bed
Setting Alternate season 5, branching off from season 4
A/N Follows Devil's Bargain and Team Slayer, which set up this AU
It's a perfectly normal morning at Spike's place.
Well, for certain values of normal. For one thing, it's technically four pm, but that's just how those creatures of the night roll, and if that kind of thing freaks you out, you need to go somewhere else.
Spike's neighbours are stirring. He can hear the Gl'aarg demon one floor below, calling the kids for breakfast. Plus that idiot Clarence, running inside after his day shift. Fellow loves to play chicken with the daylight, and has the burn-holes in his clothing to prove it.
Then there's another sound. A series of sounds, and absence of sound. A murmuration of demonic perturbation. Then-
Well, he never got fond of his front door. Doesn't really need those hinges.
"Hey, Spike." The Slayer's come calling.
A bag lands on his stomach, sloppily. He looks at it with interest. His favourite pancakes, syrup and a pint of O pos.
Ahhhh, breakfast in bed.
He's already wondering what the bad news is going to be. Has a suspicion he knows, though.
*
Slayer's quite the mission girl these days. Not least, because she's obviously traced his home and yet never came calling to destroy the various demons with whom he shares this condemned complex. It's all about the mission.
He's proved the mission worth of his demon connections, enough to win a bit of trust and half a smile. Got a contact to hack some Initiative security files, enough that they know her picture isn't plastered all over the place with DANGER: VAMPIRE SLAYER WHO KILLED OUR CALI BRANCH, or some such. Also established that the Sunnydale Initiative's records are pretty much toast, so they've decided it will be plausible for him to play a vamp who was out of the cells on some kind of experiment when the Slayer came calling. Not a dangerous renegade. More a poor schlub who fled from Hellmouth to Hellmouth and finds out that he's swapped one danger for another.
Buffy's cover took more thought, but they got there in the end: had to be strong enough to get her inside, nothing that will raise suspicions though, and something that'll bring them together occasionally when they're on the inside. So she's a handler. Low level. Tough work. Dedicated to fighting the HST threat, obviously, but got canned from the California facility for skipping shifts to be with her boyfriend ("Never again. I know what's important now," she said, in practice, stony-faced but with a glitter of tears just hinted. "I lost a lotta good friends in Sunnydale." It's the truth in her story that makes it fly). For such a slip of a thing she does a good job projecting slobbiness. A new haircut, with kitchen scissors, does a lot to dim her beauty, and she keeps it greasy enough that she's getting no hassle at work. Lots of shit jobs, as befits a newbie, but at least no covert arse-pinching to wind her up.
It's been almost a month since she started at the Cleveland Initiative. She's met Spike at least weekly, usually more, to exchange intel, work through plans, and calculate the time they need to spin out so that they don't follow too pat on each other's heels.
She's telling him the time has come. "… I work block C now, where they keep the humanoids, the guys with language skills. I get the new intake, too, which is perfect. I'd be your handler for the morning shift."
Something in her eyes tells him he betrayed himself with a silent movement. "Handler"'s what did it; opening a world of bad memories and reluctance to go back. Let alone being "handled" in that context by her. So he breaks the moment, takes the bad thing and makes it his own. "Handle me anytime, Slayer." He pats the bed, pseudo-invitingly.
He knows that she knows that this isn’t a serious invitation; not this time. There's maybe a flicker of pity in her eyeroll and, "Yeah, Spike. Get us out of this, and maybe I will." He won't hold her to it.
Probably.
After all, getting out of this is unlikely as hell.
*
Three days later, Buffy leads him – bound tight with cable ties that are already drawing blood – into the maw of the Cleveland Initiative.
"Hey, Ally, got you a present. All the way from Sunny D, it's one of our missing HSTs. Musta been on Jamal's work group, from what he said before he turn clam-like." She pokes him between the shoulders, hard enough to make him stumble given the awkward bonds. Laughs. "I don't remember him, but he sure as hell remembers me. Tried to run, tried to hide, but I took him down."
She comes round to his side, yanks his chin to the left and displays the scrapes and bruises she left on him in preparation for this moment. "See? Says he usedta be a tough guy. But he's a pussy cat now. Aren'tya Three-Seventeen?"
317. He's come a long way, baby. And no distance at all. Spike swallows bile, keeps his eyes down, and doesn't beg as she locks him away.
No chance of a word or even a meaningful glance, but her touch is gentle as she unbinds him and sedates him, and she makes sure she keeps her hand on his as he loses consciousness.
*
It's not a normal morning in Spike's world. Not at all.
The strip lighting flickers on with a hum, and his fellow incarcerated demons begin to make their usual range of distressed sounds. There's a hyena-possessed kid about three cells along who doesn't understand the setup and keeps calling for a lawyer, in between howls.
There's a clang, and a series of fairly regular beep-beep-beeeeps as doors are opened, and the inmates are chucked their morning rations. Luxury breakfast in bed. Or not.
The next beep-beep is his. A voice says, "Hey, cutie. Suck on that." A blood bag lands on his lap.
He turns his head away, not going to play grateful for his drugged meal. But underneath the attitude is warm relief. He knows that voice. His Slayer found him.
Plan A is a go.
***
Next part is here
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG13
Words 1000
Prompt Breakfast in bed
Setting Alternate season 5, branching off from season 4
A/N Follows Devil's Bargain and Team Slayer, which set up this AU
It's a perfectly normal morning at Spike's place.
Well, for certain values of normal. For one thing, it's technically four pm, but that's just how those creatures of the night roll, and if that kind of thing freaks you out, you need to go somewhere else.
Spike's neighbours are stirring. He can hear the Gl'aarg demon one floor below, calling the kids for breakfast. Plus that idiot Clarence, running inside after his day shift. Fellow loves to play chicken with the daylight, and has the burn-holes in his clothing to prove it.
Then there's another sound. A series of sounds, and absence of sound. A murmuration of demonic perturbation. Then-
Well, he never got fond of his front door. Doesn't really need those hinges.
"Hey, Spike." The Slayer's come calling.
A bag lands on his stomach, sloppily. He looks at it with interest. His favourite pancakes, syrup and a pint of O pos.
Ahhhh, breakfast in bed.
He's already wondering what the bad news is going to be. Has a suspicion he knows, though.
*
Slayer's quite the mission girl these days. Not least, because she's obviously traced his home and yet never came calling to destroy the various demons with whom he shares this condemned complex. It's all about the mission.
He's proved the mission worth of his demon connections, enough to win a bit of trust and half a smile. Got a contact to hack some Initiative security files, enough that they know her picture isn't plastered all over the place with DANGER: VAMPIRE SLAYER WHO KILLED OUR CALI BRANCH, or some such. Also established that the Sunnydale Initiative's records are pretty much toast, so they've decided it will be plausible for him to play a vamp who was out of the cells on some kind of experiment when the Slayer came calling. Not a dangerous renegade. More a poor schlub who fled from Hellmouth to Hellmouth and finds out that he's swapped one danger for another.
Buffy's cover took more thought, but they got there in the end: had to be strong enough to get her inside, nothing that will raise suspicions though, and something that'll bring them together occasionally when they're on the inside. So she's a handler. Low level. Tough work. Dedicated to fighting the HST threat, obviously, but got canned from the California facility for skipping shifts to be with her boyfriend ("Never again. I know what's important now," she said, in practice, stony-faced but with a glitter of tears just hinted. "I lost a lotta good friends in Sunnydale." It's the truth in her story that makes it fly). For such a slip of a thing she does a good job projecting slobbiness. A new haircut, with kitchen scissors, does a lot to dim her beauty, and she keeps it greasy enough that she's getting no hassle at work. Lots of shit jobs, as befits a newbie, but at least no covert arse-pinching to wind her up.
It's been almost a month since she started at the Cleveland Initiative. She's met Spike at least weekly, usually more, to exchange intel, work through plans, and calculate the time they need to spin out so that they don't follow too pat on each other's heels.
She's telling him the time has come. "… I work block C now, where they keep the humanoids, the guys with language skills. I get the new intake, too, which is perfect. I'd be your handler for the morning shift."
Something in her eyes tells him he betrayed himself with a silent movement. "Handler"'s what did it; opening a world of bad memories and reluctance to go back. Let alone being "handled" in that context by her. So he breaks the moment, takes the bad thing and makes it his own. "Handle me anytime, Slayer." He pats the bed, pseudo-invitingly.
He knows that she knows that this isn’t a serious invitation; not this time. There's maybe a flicker of pity in her eyeroll and, "Yeah, Spike. Get us out of this, and maybe I will." He won't hold her to it.
Probably.
After all, getting out of this is unlikely as hell.
*
Three days later, Buffy leads him – bound tight with cable ties that are already drawing blood – into the maw of the Cleveland Initiative.
"Hey, Ally, got you a present. All the way from Sunny D, it's one of our missing HSTs. Musta been on Jamal's work group, from what he said before he turn clam-like." She pokes him between the shoulders, hard enough to make him stumble given the awkward bonds. Laughs. "I don't remember him, but he sure as hell remembers me. Tried to run, tried to hide, but I took him down."
She comes round to his side, yanks his chin to the left and displays the scrapes and bruises she left on him in preparation for this moment. "See? Says he usedta be a tough guy. But he's a pussy cat now. Aren'tya Three-Seventeen?"
317. He's come a long way, baby. And no distance at all. Spike swallows bile, keeps his eyes down, and doesn't beg as she locks him away.
No chance of a word or even a meaningful glance, but her touch is gentle as she unbinds him and sedates him, and she makes sure she keeps her hand on his as he loses consciousness.
*
It's not a normal morning in Spike's world. Not at all.
The strip lighting flickers on with a hum, and his fellow incarcerated demons begin to make their usual range of distressed sounds. There's a hyena-possessed kid about three cells along who doesn't understand the setup and keeps calling for a lawyer, in between howls.
There's a clang, and a series of fairly regular beep-beep-beeeeps as doors are opened, and the inmates are chucked their morning rations. Luxury breakfast in bed. Or not.
The next beep-beep is his. A voice says, "Hey, cutie. Suck on that." A blood bag lands on his lap.
He turns his head away, not going to play grateful for his drugged meal. But underneath the attitude is warm relief. He knows that voice. His Slayer found him.
Plan A is a go.
***
Next part is here