Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing; all recognizable characters/trademarks/etc belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and whoever else. I’m making no money from this fic, just enjoy playing in Joss Whedon’s sandbox.
Summary: A very brassed off Slayer comes home gunning for Spike. What did her boyfriend do this time?
Author’s Note: Inspired by a screenshot of a text message that one of my friends shared on Facebook. This is definitely verging into crack!fic territory where Buffy and Spike are together in season 3ish (let’s say after Lover’s Walk) and for the purpose of the story is living in Buffy’s basement. (Plausible considering how much Joyce liked him, right? Oh well, if not that’s why it’s a crackfic!)
Also, this was intended to be complete crackfic but the words just seemed to write themselves and it ended up being somewhere in the middle. Hope you enjoy!
Title: Bake Sale
Spike was startled awake by the sound of the front door slamming shut and he groaned. That sound never meant anything good, heralding the entrance of one very brassed off Slayer. “SPIKE!” He winced at the anger in her voice and debated whether he should just pretend to be asleep.
“William the Bloody, you better answer me right now!” Well, that answered that then. When Buffy broke out that name he knew she was seriously pissed and now she was standing at the top of the basement stairs. If he didn’t answer she’d just come down and then she’d be even angrier. Bloke couldn’t win for losing.
“Yes, Buffy?” he called out in his best ‘yes dear’ voice, climbing out of bed and heading for the stairs. When he reached them he saw her, standing with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.
“You are in so much trouble, mister,” she warned, whirling on her heel and stalking into the kitchen. He followed, dragging his feet just a bit. His mind whirled as he climbed the stairs, searching for something he’d done that he could be in trouble for but came up empty. With a shrug, he followed her into the kitchen and saw her leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in front of her a seriously pissed off expression on her face.
“Hello luv. How was school?” he asked conversationally, trying to ignore the glare being sent his way. If looks could dust…
“School? Oh, let me tell you about school. I woke up this morning freaking out because I forgot that today was the school bake sale. You remember me telling you about that, right? How it’ Snyder’s newest form of Buffy torture by making me participate?” She looked at him expectantly and still not sure where this was going, he cautiously nodded.
“So William, imagine my happy surprise when I found two pans of brownies squirreled away in the pantry.” His eyes widened comically even as he winced, suddenly knowing where this was going… Oh, bloody hell…
“Snyder was completely thrown that I’d actually come through and even angrier than usual. I thought you’d scored major boyfriend points and started planning ways to thank you. They sold like hotcakes—and where does that saying come from anyway—and everybody was complimenting me on them. But then people started acting weird.” She leveled her gaze at him but he was too busy studying the floor to notice. “Spike.”
He forced his gaze away from the floor and tried to feign innocence. “What’s this got to do with me, luv?”
“Don’t you dare, William,” she snapped, and he dropped the act immediately.
“Oh, don’t you even ‘now Buffy’ me, mister,” she ordered, stalking towards him with her finger jabbing the air in his direction. “Pot brownies?! Pot brownies in my kitchen, in Mom’s kitchen? What the hell were you thinking?!”
“Oi!” he exclaimed as her finger jabbed at his chest repeatedly. “I hid them! Didn’t bloody think you’d be searchin’ the kitchen for something to take to a bleedin’ bake sale, pet.” His eyes were softly apologetic as he gazed down on her. “’m sorry, luv. Didn’t get you in trouble, did I?”
He felt slightly hopeful as he watched her scowl melt away and she sighed, slumping in on herself. Shaking her head, she answered, “No, luckily the only people who bought the brownies were students and they were just excited to have gotten pot brownies for so cheap. I think I’m more popular now too!” She grinned and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Oh, you so owe Willow though.
Spike’s eyes widened in alarm and he grabbed hold of her arm. “Don’t tell me Red ate one!” She nodded and he covered his face with his hand. “Bloody hell, she’s gonna dust me, isn’t she?”
Buffy giggled. “No—I mean, it was touch and go there for a while but I managed to calm her down. Turns out she’s one of those who gets really paranoid. I had to leave her in Giles’ office just to get her away from Snyder because she was being so obvious with the big eyes and hyperventilating. Once she came down she had a more sane uberwiggins and that’s when I had to talk her out of dusting my boyfriend.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s the end of it, kitten,” he replied, eyeing her carefully.
“Oh, it’s most definitely not the end of anything,” she confirmed, glaring at him again. “You still need to explain why you thought it was a good idea to have pot brownies in my kitchen! Can you imagine what would have happened if Mom had found them? Or what about Dawn?”
If vamps could go paler, Spike felt like he had at the mention of the Niblett. “Oh fuck,” was the only thing he could think of to say and he shook his head to clear it. “Didn’t think ’bout the bit,” he admitted, guilt coloring his tone. “I made ’em for Clem,” he confessed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and wishing he hadn’t quit smoking. Would’ve helped take the edge off. “He brought everythin’ over and asked if I’d mind since he doesn’t have a working stove. Was gonna to come pick them up tonight.” He glanced at her guiltily. “’m really sorry, Buffy.”
She sighed and relented, taking his hand in hers. “It’s okay, Spike… this time,” she added firmly. “But it can’t ever happen again. No more drugs of any kind in this house, got it?”
He nodded and kissed the back of her hand. “Course, pet. Won’t happen again, you have my word on that.” Relief flooded through him when she smiled at him, all traces of anger gone.
“Good. Now come on, I have history homework I need help with.” He pulled her in for a kiss before letting her go and following her into the living room.