Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Spike - Smoking Kills

When he emerges out of the shadows, I'm not surprised, although I didn't realise he was lurking there. Glass crunches underfoot as he steps over, leaning back on the brick wall beside me. The band playing at The Bronze can still be heard from outside, but I don't really like it. I'm not missing much.

I bring the cigarette to my mouth and inhale. Spike tuts. 

"Those things kill."

I snicker. "That's rich coming from you."

He eyes me carefully, slightly jealously, as I exhale the smoke with a sigh. 

I often bump into him when I sneak out for a smoke, unfortunately for me. It depends what mood he's in. Sometimes, we'll share one and chat about the latest evil happenings - he can be a laugh when he wants to be. But, lately, he's been a right downer, nagging me to quit. Like he has any right to lecture me. 

"I'm serious." he says, but lacks conviction. 

"I thought you were supposed to be cool."

A muscle in his jaw twitches. He tilts his head and watches me for a second before he seemingly gives up the act. 

"Give us a drag of that, would you?"

How he switches up so quick. I pass it over with a smirk, trying not to focus on the lipstick stain that is now touching Spike's lips. He huffs out the smoke and sighs, satisfied. Then, like a prick, he tosses it to the floor and stamps on it.

"Hey!" I tell him, "That was my last one!"

"Like I said," he tilts his head to the side and if it's supposed to be empathetic, it's not, "They'll be the death of you."

"You'll be the death of me." I mutter, admittedly immaturely.

"What was that?" he asks, but I know full well he heard me. 

"You heard. I'll see you inside." 

I slide past him and enter The Bronze.

-----------

The night passes by quickly and I dance until I feel that familiar ache in my belly. My hand instinctively goes to my pocket, momentarily forgetting my last cig was thrown on the floor by a bleach-blond buzzkill, and I sigh as the hunger grows. I briefly wonder if it's akin to what a vampire craving blood feels. 

"I'll be back." I tell Buffy and she nods.

"Be careful!" she replies and I salute her (which she doesn't appreciate). 

I make my way over to my usual spot and see a guy in a short leather jacket and blue jeans. He looks shifty, but not in a demon way - in a, I may or may not sell weed on the side, kind of way. 

"You got a smoke?" I ask him and he looks up, almost surprised. He smiles, big and a little off-putting, and jerks his head to the alleyway before disappearing down it. I'm not an idiot, but I'd do anything for a smoke right now. I slowly step around the corner and then he grabs me. 

My blood turns cold when I realise how strong he is. He thrusts me up against the wall, his hand over my mouth and it's then that I notice his yellow eyes. Great.

He bears his teeth and due to the lack of formality, I presume he must be really hungry. It scares me, but I refuse to give up this easily. He leans in to lap up some blood on my cheek (that he caused with his pointy nails) and I use the opportunity to headbutt him. He yelps and I struggle free, planning to run, but he kicks me in the shin and I buckle. 

Pain shoots up my legs when my knees hit the floor and then the vampire is pulling me up by the hair, his nails sinking into my scalp. I whimper. 

I don't scream help!, I don't scream fire!, I don't scream a vampire's trying to eat me! Instead, the strangled cry that leaves my lips is, "Spike!"

The vamp doesn't even take the time to look confused. Once he's got me standing before him again, his grin widens and then he punches me, right in the nose. I presume he's pegged me as a fighter and isn't going to let this be easy. Blood flows into my mouth and I spit it at him, a spray of red splattering across his face. His tongue darts out to lick what he can and I grimace. My body feels like it's made of lead. 

I try to throw a punch but he catches my fist, twisting my arm. He pushes me square in the shoulders and I slam into the wall, silently grateful I didn't smack my head. He closes the distance between us in one stride and I scream out. 

"Spike!"  

The vampire's eyes darken with glee, leaning into my neck. It's sickening to know what's about to happen and not being able to stop it. His teeth graze my neck and... he's wrenched off me and I hear a crack. 

It's his skull against pavement. I see Spike bend down and dust him.

He looks up at me, nostrils flaring. 

"You like cutting it fine, don't you?" I say, rubbing my neck. I feel like I'm about to puke. 

He throws the stake on the floor and asks me sternly, although it's not really a question, "What were you doing?"

"What was I doing?" I repeat back at him, "I was getting attacked!"

"You idiot." he practically spits, grabbing the collar of my shirt and forcing it downwards so he can examine my neck. I protest but he ignores me, checking both sides of my neck for bite marks. 

"You've got some nerve calling out for me to save your sorry ass," he mutters, wiping the blood from my cheek roughly. His tone turns mocking. "Was it worth it? Did you get your smoke?"

I push him away from me with more force than needed. He stumbles backwards.

"Shut up!"

My face is on fire with embarrassment. My mouth tastes like blood and my skull stings all over. I wish the ground would swallow me whole and not bother to spit me back out again. I don't know why I called out for him... it just happened. Part of me wishes he'd left me but I hope that's just the humiliation talking. 

Spike looks more angry than disappointed. Is he upset I got hurt? I was the one who made a stupid mistake. He may as well get this over with and say I told you so. 

Hot tears prick my eyes and I turn my back to him so he can't see. I let out a shaky exhale. 

There's a moment of silence before Spike grumbles, "Wait here." and I hear him leave. 

I check he's out of sight before I slip down the wall and collapse on the floor. Maybe I should give up smoking because my lungs feel like they're about to collapse. It's been a long time since a vampire's had the chance to overpower me like that - my friends are always around to save the day. It's a wake-up call to how weak I really am... how stupid I was to follow that guy around the corner. 

When Spike comes back, he sits next to me on the dirty floor. He passes me a cool glass of water, which I sip from too quickly, and he has a toilet roll I presume he nicked from the gents' toilets in his hands.

He tells me to leave a bit of water in the glass so I do. He dips in a wad of tissue and goes to dab at my face, before he hands it to me instead. I take it, somewhat disappointed he decided not to do it for me, and clean up the dried blood from my nose and cheek. He sits there silently, but I can tell he's still pissed. 

I bring my knees to my chest, dusting off the gravel lodged in my flesh. It hurts only for a moment. 

Spike still sits like a statue beside me. I reach into my pocket and pull out my cheap, purple lighter. I press it into Spike's hand. "Take it."

He waits a second before curling his fingers around it and slipping it into his pocket.

"Good." he says, voice hard.

I turn to him. I'm annoyed that my eyes are still wet but I can't help it. I clear my throat to sound a little less pathetic when I ask, "Can you just walk me home?"

He softens the tiniest bit. He stands, dusts off his palms and then offers me one. 

I grab his hand and he helps me up. On our way out, I step on the cigarette he threw on the ground earlier and find myself thinking good riddance.