Spike/Wes fic
Apr. 3rd, 2003 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
estepheiaHello ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wesleysgirl, this one is for you - a slightly belated and unfortunately rushed and unbetaed birthday prezzie.
PAIRING: Spike/Wesley
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Pre-slash or friendship
SPOILERS: none really (up to 7x16 of BtVS and 4x16 of AtS)
SUMMARY: Post S7/S4 – totally AU (mere wishful thinking)
Spike didn’t have to check the slip of paper in his pocket to know he had the right address. The gutted state of the building was a dead giveaway. He kicked absently at a charred wooden beam, stirring up a small cloud of dust and ash and scanned the wreckage. When he spotted something metallic poking out of the mass of smashed bricks and pulverized concrete, he climbed a pile of rubble to take a closer look. It was a sword. He crouched and pulled, but it was stuck. Whatever explosion had wiped out this building, it seemed to have caused the sword to embed itself tip-first in a large piece of concrete. Spike yanked at it again and this time the weapon ended up in his hand - shiny and undamaged.
“I’d put that down, if I were you,” a soft-spoken voice with an English accent sounded from behind him.
“Yeah?” Spike got up but didn’t turn around. He swung the weapon experimentally. “Why’s that?”
“There are three things a man doesn’t share, his sword, his tooth-brush and his woman.”
“Yours?” Spike asked and looked over his shoulder, giving the other man a thorough once-over.
“Angel’s.”
“Who does he think he is, the Highlander?” Spike whooshed the broadsword through the air once more before turning it so the tip pointed downwards and tossing it at the other Englishman.
Wesley caught the weapon smoothly at the hilt.
“Watcher?” Spike asked and crouched again, poking around for other things of interest.
“Ex.” Wesley answered curtly.
“Yeah, you’re all ex, now, aren’t you?”
“So are you,” Wesley pointed out. “Ex-chipped, ex-soulless, ex-evil – there’s a lot of ex to go around.” He sounded aloof, unwilling to take the bleached vampire at face value.
“Got that right, mate,” Spike said amiably, accepting the fact that the man recognised him as his due. “So, where is he?” He got to his feet and brushed some dust off his hands.
“If you mean Angel, he’s on a case.” Wesley told him. “What do you want from him?”
“Join the noble cause and all that rot,” Spike mumbled around the filter of a cigarette, while trying to get his lighter to work. Belatedly, he offered the pack to the other man – he was, after all, a fellow-Englishman.
Wesley declined with a polite shake of his head. “Please don’t take this personally, Spike, but I don’t think we need another souled vampire in this town. We all heard how you helped out in Sunnydale. You should go back. I’m sure there’s still work to be done there.”
“That’s just it. Hellmouth’s closed for inventory – thanks to Buffy. Locked up, so to speak.” Spike paused, looking glum, sad even. With his own grief still raw, Wesley waited patiently for him to continue. As he watched, Spike squared his shoulders lifted his chin. “Sunnydale is about as exciting now as Milton Keynes. Nothing to keep me there. And without the pull of the Hellmouth all the nasties are heading out, most of them to LA. I’m just migrating after them, is all.” He tossed his half-smoked cigarette aside.
Wesley pondered that for a moment. How would Angel feel about this? Hard to tell. Angel was so closed off and unapproachable lately, it was difficult to say what was going on inside him. They all had far too many scars. Even William the Bloody looked strangely forlorn. Wesley controlled the urge to nervously rub his throat. Whatever Angel might think, another capable demon-fighter in town had to be advantageous, especially if Spike was right and the Sunnydale demons were indeed relocating. And then there was the opportunity to study William the Bloody first hand, the only vampire in known history to get back his soul out of his own volition….
“Do you have a place to stay?” Wes enquired softly.
“Was counting on staying here,” Spike said, gesturing at what was left of the Hyperion.
“I’ve got a couch you could use,” Wesley said to his own surprise. Maybe it was the accent. Spike was, after all, a fellow-Englishman, albeit an undead one. “For now.”
Spike tilted his head and looked at him searchingly. He obviously hadn’t expected the offer. He seemed to be pleased with what he saw, for a smile formed on his lips and he nodded. “Ta, mate,” he said, scratching his head with his thumb. “Appreciate it.”
“Wesley Wyndham-Price,” Wesley introduced himself.
Spike hesitated but then he shook the offered hand. “Maybe we could grab a six-pack on the way?” he suggested.
“I don’t see why not,” Wesley said.
“But not the rotten piss these Americans call beer.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wesley allowed himself a smile.
THE END
ETA: Just noticed that my original title "Salvage" is the title of an actual AtS episode. So, I changed the title for now.
wesleysgirl, this one is for you - a slightly belated and unfortunately rushed and unbetaed birthday prezzie.PAIRING: Spike/Wesley
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Pre-slash or friendship
SPOILERS: none really (up to 7x16 of BtVS and 4x16 of AtS)
SUMMARY: Post S7/S4 – totally AU (mere wishful thinking)
Spike didn’t have to check the slip of paper in his pocket to know he had the right address. The gutted state of the building was a dead giveaway. He kicked absently at a charred wooden beam, stirring up a small cloud of dust and ash and scanned the wreckage. When he spotted something metallic poking out of the mass of smashed bricks and pulverized concrete, he climbed a pile of rubble to take a closer look. It was a sword. He crouched and pulled, but it was stuck. Whatever explosion had wiped out this building, it seemed to have caused the sword to embed itself tip-first in a large piece of concrete. Spike yanked at it again and this time the weapon ended up in his hand - shiny and undamaged.
“I’d put that down, if I were you,” a soft-spoken voice with an English accent sounded from behind him.
“Yeah?” Spike got up but didn’t turn around. He swung the weapon experimentally. “Why’s that?”
“There are three things a man doesn’t share, his sword, his tooth-brush and his woman.”
“Yours?” Spike asked and looked over his shoulder, giving the other man a thorough once-over.
“Angel’s.”
“Who does he think he is, the Highlander?” Spike whooshed the broadsword through the air once more before turning it so the tip pointed downwards and tossing it at the other Englishman.
Wesley caught the weapon smoothly at the hilt.
“Watcher?” Spike asked and crouched again, poking around for other things of interest.
“Ex.” Wesley answered curtly.
“Yeah, you’re all ex, now, aren’t you?”
“So are you,” Wesley pointed out. “Ex-chipped, ex-soulless, ex-evil – there’s a lot of ex to go around.” He sounded aloof, unwilling to take the bleached vampire at face value.
“Got that right, mate,” Spike said amiably, accepting the fact that the man recognised him as his due. “So, where is he?” He got to his feet and brushed some dust off his hands.
“If you mean Angel, he’s on a case.” Wesley told him. “What do you want from him?”
“Join the noble cause and all that rot,” Spike mumbled around the filter of a cigarette, while trying to get his lighter to work. Belatedly, he offered the pack to the other man – he was, after all, a fellow-Englishman.
Wesley declined with a polite shake of his head. “Please don’t take this personally, Spike, but I don’t think we need another souled vampire in this town. We all heard how you helped out in Sunnydale. You should go back. I’m sure there’s still work to be done there.”
“That’s just it. Hellmouth’s closed for inventory – thanks to Buffy. Locked up, so to speak.” Spike paused, looking glum, sad even. With his own grief still raw, Wesley waited patiently for him to continue. As he watched, Spike squared his shoulders lifted his chin. “Sunnydale is about as exciting now as Milton Keynes. Nothing to keep me there. And without the pull of the Hellmouth all the nasties are heading out, most of them to LA. I’m just migrating after them, is all.” He tossed his half-smoked cigarette aside.
Wesley pondered that for a moment. How would Angel feel about this? Hard to tell. Angel was so closed off and unapproachable lately, it was difficult to say what was going on inside him. They all had far too many scars. Even William the Bloody looked strangely forlorn. Wesley controlled the urge to nervously rub his throat. Whatever Angel might think, another capable demon-fighter in town had to be advantageous, especially if Spike was right and the Sunnydale demons were indeed relocating. And then there was the opportunity to study William the Bloody first hand, the only vampire in known history to get back his soul out of his own volition….
“Do you have a place to stay?” Wes enquired softly.
“Was counting on staying here,” Spike said, gesturing at what was left of the Hyperion.
“I’ve got a couch you could use,” Wesley said to his own surprise. Maybe it was the accent. Spike was, after all, a fellow-Englishman, albeit an undead one. “For now.”
Spike tilted his head and looked at him searchingly. He obviously hadn’t expected the offer. He seemed to be pleased with what he saw, for a smile formed on his lips and he nodded. “Ta, mate,” he said, scratching his head with his thumb. “Appreciate it.”
“Wesley Wyndham-Price,” Wesley introduced himself.
Spike hesitated but then he shook the offered hand. “Maybe we could grab a six-pack on the way?” he suggested.
“I don’t see why not,” Wesley said.
“But not the rotten piss these Americans call beer.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wesley allowed himself a smile.
THE END
ETA: Just noticed that my original title "Salvage" is the title of an actual AtS episode. So, I changed the title for now.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 04:00 pm (UTC)I'll beg if I have to for S/Wes comfort slash that's as good as this opener.
no subject
Since you ask so nicely, I will endevour to write a second part. Mind you, I'm not promising anything. Might just be friendshippy, might never happen - depends on my muse. But I'll try.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 04:29 pm (UTC)This is wonderful and I absolutely adore it. I had a really crappy evening and this totally made it *so* much better.
*Sends you lots of hugs*
You're very welcome
no subject
Date: 2003-04-02 05:17 pm (UTC)Please dear, I need a sequel. And I can't wait for my birthday 'cause it's in October!!!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 08:20 am (UTC)Teehee! I love that you made fun of Milton Keynes! As a frequent visitor to Manchester, I am familiar :)
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 10:34 am (UTC)"Until we've built Jerusalem and made it look like Milton Keynes"
Also, there were (very serious) commercials on telly in those days that were supposed to lure people to MK. Hilarious.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 12:20 pm (UTC)I don't suppose I could, um, archive this (http://spikenwes.webrizy.net/), could I? It's been awhile since I've had any new material, and this is so good that it'll make up for the little dip in production. ;) (And if not, that's cool too. lol I'm easy.)
no subject
Date: 2003-04-04 01:02 pm (UTC)As for archiving, wow, I'm flattered. And glad that you like it.
I must admit I am not yet entirely happy with it. It was a rush job - it still needs a bit of polish.
Before I write a second part (for Paratti) I feel like I ought to look at this part again and add a few more lines (not dialogue, just a few descriptions, because I have given Spike more body language than Wes). Also, I think for a cautious Watcher Wes is too quick in inviting Spike, so I might have to add to that moment too.
Give me a few days, then you can have it, ok?
no subject
Date: 2003-04-07 06:27 am (UTC)Done. I made a few changes and uploaded it to my site. So, if you're still interested you can archive the story... Thanks.
http://estepheia.com/Sifting.htm
Re:
Date: 2003-04-08 07:15 am (UTC)