Chapter 1: Number One Fangirl
Chapter Text
“Who's the bird?” Spike nods towards the girl sitting in the back of the store, her nose buried in a book, Buffy and Xander both shrug “Honestly no idea, she comes in at least twice a week just to read through the books here.” Willow nods in agreement “At least she's kind enough to purchase something when she leaves.” Giles chimes in, raising an eyebrow at Spike, whose often loitering causes customers to turn tail and leave because of his ominous vibes.
“I'm gonna be honest, I think she's deaf.” Xander says, practically drilling holes in the back of your skull “I've tested the theory by saying the most ridiculous things right behind her and I never get any reaction.” Willow rolls her eyes “That's not a very good litmus test, most people ignore you.” A dramatic gasp from Xander follows.
Spike stalks towards you, boots thunking against the floorboards. His black coated nail taps on your book “What’re reading pet?” You barely glance up at him “Herbal remedies.” You mumble, taking a moment to jot down a note in messy writing on an open page of your notebook “Planning on poisoning your enemies huh?” Spike grins, you just shake your head “No, I want to make tea.” He stares at you blankly “Tea…? Like, to drink?” You hum in confirmation, still absorbed in your task. He leans across the table and attempts to read your notes upside down ”You write like a toddler.” He says after struggling to make out any legible words, that seems to gain your attention and you finally put down the book to glare at him with about as much rage as an angry chipmunk, Spike fighting off laughter at the expression on your face “That's quite rude you know, I can read my writing perfectly fine!” You flip through the other pages of your notebook pointing at various sections as you go “See, this is a cookie recipe, this is my studying schedule, these are my account passwords, this is a poem by a small author I adore, tea blend ideas, another recipe for cookies, class notes, so there, my writing isn't that bad.” Spike’s interest is piqued by one of the things you mentioned “Poem? You like poetry, pet?” You nod “Mhm, I love it, I have three of my favorite poetry books in my bag at all times.” He feels his chest flutter a bit, though he thinks of himself as ‘The Big Bad’ now, a part of him still clings to the innocence of his past as a writer “What books do you have?” He asks and you grin, excited to show someone your special interests, you rummage through your bag dumping out scraps of paper and random things that should have probably been thrown away ages ago “Two of them aren't super well known, well actually one of them I've actually never met anyone that's heard of him, which sucks because I really like his stuff,” you pull out one book “I like Edgar Allen Poe, his book is the only one I really talk about with people, then there's Edith Sodergran,” another book lands on the table “And finally, my most cherished possession, a first edition copy of William Pratt’s work.” Spike feels like he got punched directly in the lungs, if he was capable of having heart failure this would probably be the moment it would happen.
“See, at least a few people know who Sondergran is, and Poe is one of the most popular poets but nobody seems to have heard of William Pratt.” A dejected sigh leaves her lips “Hell, I can barely find any information about him online so I'm eternally grateful I found this copy.” She strokes the book lovingly “It had to have been fate, it was on a discount rack at a bookstore and when I asked the salesman about it he didn't know anything about the author or anything, but I just had to buy it. The poems were so beautiful that I couldn't imagine just leaving it to collect dust or god forbid bought by someone who wouldn't cherish it.” Spike could swear he felt his heart beating “William Pratt you say?” He tries to keep his composure “Kind of sounds like a shit writer if nobody's heard of him.” He laughs but you immediately shake your head “No! Of course not! Popularity and being well known doesn't equate to talent, there's so many lost voices of passion and creativity out there. It makes me genuinely sad to think about every painter that goes undiscovered, every author that goes unrecognized and all the creative works that go unloved because they didn't end up at the right place and the right time to be seen. So many artists we idolize today were shit on while they were alive and they died thinking their passion was meaningless. William Pratt deserves to be remembered for his works, even if it's just me defending his name.” You hug the book to your chest, almost defensively. “You're right, love, I shouldn't have tried to grind your gears like that.” Spike feels himself completely softening, turning into a puddle of vampire Jell-O, his ego stroked harder than it's ever been.
“What do we have here? So the beautiful lady does talk!” Xander drops his elbows on the table to prop up his head as he leans over “How come you're talking to him but you always ignore me?” He bats his eyelashes at you and you grimace in return “Because I find you very off-putting.” His mouth drops open, not expecting such a direct response and Spike guffaws “Then why are you talking to him?! Spike is even more irritating than me!” Xander stands upright, obviously baffled by your preference for someone like Spike, who's practically universally hated “Actually I'd like to know that too. I haven't met anyone that's tolerated him for more than a few seconds.” Willow and Buffy both join the conversation and you find yourself a tad panicked, not used to this many people in a confined space, let alone this many people talking to you “I mean he's just nice, I guess.” You choke out the words, trying to scoot your chair backwards to gain some space between the group and yourself “Nice? Spike?” Buffy and Willow share a look “Did he steal a magic spell and bewitch you or something?” Buffy asks, snorting at the thought that anyone could genuinely like or get along with Spike “Yes! He's nice! Nicer than you all. Considering how you're talking about him to his face I can guarantee he's kinder than any of you.” shoving your stuff back in your bag you brush past them, fuming over their behavior and only pausing at the counter to slap a 20$ bill on the counter and a fistful of the 25¢ candies next to the cash register.
Grumbling to yourself as you walk down the sidewalk and unwrapping one of the candies “The audacity of complete strangers. Disgusting behavior honestly, who treats another person like that, I should go back there and hit them all in the head with these stale fucking candies.” You unwrap another, crunching violently seems to be calming you down. “I do appreciate you standing up for me but I can promise I'm quite used to their treatment, can't say it's completely unwarranted.” Spike says from your left, startling you enough that the handful of candy you had flew up into the air and you yelp “Jesus Christ!” clutching your chest, heart beating much faster over that jump scare “Sorry pet, didn't mean to spook you.” He bends down to gather the candies and carefully tucks them into your jacket pocket “Regardless of whether or not you did something to deserve their feelings, that doesn't give them the right to degrade you to your face or to other strangers that aren't involved in their drama.” You fish out a candy and put it in Spike’s hand. “Issues should be resolved privately and if they can't be resolved then distance should be the next step, not dragging other people into it.” You start walking again. “I'd hate to be friends with people like that, if they're willing to air their grievances so lightly.” Spike truly doesn't know how to respond to you, or in fact, anything that you do. His usual cockiness has disappeared and in turn left an awkwardness that he hasn't felt in centuries.
“That William Pratt bloke,” you turn to look at him “You really like his work?” A quick nod “I love his poems, I've been scouring every bookstore, thrift shop, second hand store and even online places like eBay trying to find any more of his stuff but I've had no luck. It's really upsetting because I have most of this book memorized from how often I read it, I'd love to see more.” Spike chews his lip, hesitating slightly “I may have a journal of his, the name sounded familiar.” you let out a squeal and grab his shoulders “Please don't joke with me, are you serious?” you're gripping him like he's your lifeline “Yeah, I've got quite the collection of old junk, I'd be happy to loan it to you if you're that smitten with him.” your whole body slams into him full force, almost knocking him off his feet “You would truly be my best friend forever if you did that for me!” Your voice slightly muffled in his chest, arms wrapped around him. Before he has a chance to process the affection, you're already pulling away, looping your arm through his “I can give you my phone number so you can let me know if you decide to let me see the journal, if you walk with me back to my house then you'll have my address too so you can drop by anytime you want. I actually don't have any friends here and I mostly keep to myself so I'd be happy for the company of someone interested in poetry.” Spike finds himself leaning into your touch, after Drucilla, and Buffy’s rejection he's found himself more touch starved than he realized.
“I'd really like that, maybe we could read together?” He asks softly and you grin up at him “I'd love to! I've got eight bookshelves full of books in my home office, one of the bookshelves is entirely poetry so you have loads to choose from, you could also bring your own books if you end up not liking any of mine.” You chatter about all the authors and titles you own, Spike listening intently the whole time, full of warmth and a desire to keep you smiling.
Chapter 2: "Grrr I'm gonna eat you."
Summary:
The big bad reveals a secret
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Quiet reading nights became a common occurrence between you two, him nestled in a bean bag chair next to your bed, with you lying above him on your colorful bedsheets. Spike was grateful you never questioned why he only came at night, dreading having to lie to you or worse, tell you the truth. You always opened the door with the same level of excitement, usually with a pot of tea already to go, despite human food and drinks usually tasting completely bland, your tea always managed to taste good to him, more than likely a placebo of his growing affection towards you but a delightful experience nonetheless.
Unfortunately your routine comes to halt after Spike doesn't show up for two straight weeks, leaving you waiting on the front steps of your house every night just in case you miss his knock and your texts to him go unanswered. Biting your nail anxiously you decide to check the Magic Box, hoping that he might be there like the first time you met. Peeking around the corner into the window you scan for the annoying group you had met last time, to your chagrin they were in fact crowded around the table in the back, accompanied by your favorite book buddy. He looked absolutely furious, hands clenched in fists and a violent scowl pulling at his face. You pace back and forth in the alleyway next to the ship trying to decide whether or not to intervene, your thumbnail bitten so low your finger aches. The bell above the door rings, signaling that someone either entered or left but you're so immersed in your thoughts that you don't notice, instead switching to your other thumb to continue your brutal chewing.
“What are you doing here?” You stop pacing, turning to face the blonde girl that had insulted Spike. Your face scrunches up and you shuffle past her, pretending like you hadn't seen or heard her “Cut it out.” Wincing, you sigh “I was worried about Spike, he hasn't come by in a few weeks so I hoped I could find him here.” You rub your arm uncomfortably, wanting to cave in on yourself “You should stay away from him. He's dangerous.” She says harshly and you glare at her “How could he possibly be dangerous, all we do is read and drink tea! It's not like we're researching how to build homemade rocket launchers planning to break into Fort Nox! He's kind and patient and lets me talk as much as I want and never interrupts me and never makes fun of me!” you start to ramble “Both times I've interacted with you have been negative and yet every single time I've had him around he's been nothing but sweet to me! Even the time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar in his tea! If he's as horrible as you all seem to think then why do you keep him around? Is it so you have someone to bully to make yourself feel better?” you're progressively getting more in Buffy's face as you rant “Spike is my only friend here and I'm so fucking lucky I have him, that man is such a genuine soul and I miss him. If I find out that any of you and your little groupie had anything to do with him being away I swear to God I will punch you so hard in the tit.” You snarl at her before storming past and shoving open the door “Spike! Get your ass over here!” He shoots to his feet “Coming, pet.” He flips off the group and joins you at your side “Leave him the fuck alone, I’ll punch all of you too if I have to!” You grab Spike's hand and drag him out of the store, slamming your shoulder into Buffy's as you pass her.
“What absolute cunts.” you finally say after a solid five minutes of fuming silence, Spike bursts out laughing “This is the second time you've come to my rescue pet, should I consider you my knight-ess in shining armor?” He gently squeezes your hand and you take a deep breath “I'm sorry, I really shouldn't let my emotions go haywire like that, their attitude really irks me though.” he shrugs “They'd say the same about me.” that makes you grit your teeth “I don't understand why, you've been nothing but sweet to me, even if you weren't half as nice to them it wouldn't warrant that wannabe Barbie telling me to stay away from you because you're dangerous.” You roll your eyes “Seriously, you could've killed me at any point in the past three months, I've literally fallen asleep with you in my house and you've never done anything.” a page of guilt ricochets through Spike, knowing that he's omitted such a huge part of himself to you, if you knew, you wouldn't be so defensive of him.
He tugs you to a stop and you look up at him questioningly “What if they’re right, love? What if what they say is true?” you shake your head “But they’re not!” Spike cups your shoulder tenderly “Sweets, I’m going to tell you the truth, It’s not nice or pretty and you’re probably going to freak out.” you frown, confused and slightly on edge, worried about what he might say “I am dangerous, I’ve done some truly vile things in the past, haven’t done much lately since I pretty much follow you around like a lost puppy and all I can think about is you,” your cheeks turn an adorable shade of crimson “But the truth is, I’m a vampire.” you blink at him “Like, an emotional vampire?” he sighs and steps away from you “No, like a real vampire, fangs and ‘grrr I’m gonna eat you’ kind of vampire.” he raises his hands in a fang position in front of his mouth and you just stare at him in skepticism “Are you schizophrenic?” Spike groans and rubs his face “Just, promise you won’t run away, please.” his voice sounds broken behind his hands “I won’t run unless you try to stab me and murder me or something.” you respond. Another heavy sigh comes from behind his hands and he crouches down, hoping that by making himself smaller he might frighten you less. A quiet shifting sound echoes and your eyebrows dip down in confusion “Spike?” you reach out to touch him and he lifts his head, your eyes meeting his, a completely different face of ridges and bumps, sharp teeth poking out from his upper lip. You’re frozen, arm halfway outstretched in front of you, your mouth open and your eyes wide, flickering over his features and trying to process what just happened. “Pet?” he whispers and you watch his face morph back into the one you’re used to seeing. Spike desperately wants to wrap you in his arms and help you through your emotions, but he’s too afraid to move in case it scares you, worrying his bottom lip between his now dull teeth, waiting for a reaction. Your arm finally drops and you body follows suit, crumpling to the ground in shock “What the fuck.” you’re still staring at him and he slowly shifts forward, carefully reaching out his hand “Talk to me, I don’t have any fancy superpowers like your sparkly vampires.” he cracks a nervous smile and places his hand on your knee “Vampire?” he nods, extra cautious since you haven’t had much of a reaction “Like, ‘grrr I’m gonna eat you’?” you repeat his words, but he hesitates “Well, not so much now, more like ‘grrr I’m gonna drink a blood pouch like a capri-sun’.” you nod, looking slightly dazed “Do you want to go home? Lay down maybe?” another nod from you “Do you think you walk all the way back?” you shake your head “Are you okay if I pick you up and carry you?” one final nod. Spike accepts your silent affirmation and just feels grateful you didn’t immediately grab a stick and try to stab him. Scooping you up and gently as he can he carries you home, hoping to any god’s that might exist to please spare him the pain of losing you over this.
By the time you finally feel coherent it’s five in the morning and the sun is starting to rise. You’re tucked into bed, your shoes on the ground next to your slippers and a cup of water with a bottle of tylenol sitting on your nightstand, a note next to it simply saying “I’m so sorry. - Spike”
You move throughout the rest of the day hazily, trying to unravel hundreds of questions forming in your mind. You’d forgotten your tea at least four times, twice going to warm it up in the microwave only to find the previous cup had already been left in there and once trying to put jam on a plate that you put on top of your toast. By noon you were already sighing, fingers pressed to your temple, trying to get rid of the building tension headache that was digging its claws into your skull. You truly didn’t know what to do, your best friend was a living breathing vampire, Well, undead, not so breathing vampire, you thought to yourself. How could any of this be real, but you saw it first hand, there was no denying it. You spent the rest of the day sitting at your kitchen counter sipping a cold cup of tea and working through the mental gymnastics happening in your brain, being pulled between self preservation from what Spike told you and the need for friendship based on his actions.
Back in bed, trying to sleep was problematic, flickering between the sweet, gentle smile Spike normally had while next to you versus the animalistic contorted mask his face formed into last night, you find yourself asking “Which is the real Spike?” that thought feeling the most unsettling, the idea that the person you’ve bonded so deeply with could’ve been a farce this whole time just leaves you wondering what else he could be hiding from you.
Notes:
I'm not entirely sure how fast I'll upload new chapters for this short fic since I'm working on like twelve different fics at the same time ;-; plz bare with me, the BTVS fandom may be small but I love y'all so much, big smooches to anyone reading or interacting <333
sh3_1r0ns_h3r_j3ans_sh3's_3v1l (Guest) on Chapter 1 Sun 28 Sep 2025 08:17PM UTC
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QueenHarley on Chapter 2 Tue 15 Jul 2025 10:26PM UTC
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citygirl!!! (Guest) on Chapter 2 Mon 21 Jul 2025 05:14PM UTC
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