Rock, Paper, Scissors. by Ariel Dawn
Chapter #1 - Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Disclaimer: Spike and Buffy aren’t mine. I’m just responsible for their present what if scenario.

Author’s note: This was written for the fabulous Bloodytearsoflife, Beta goddess, Icon madness creator and great friend for her Xmas Prezzie. *hugs* And yes she beta’d her own prezzie!

It was snowing. Ok, ya, it only snowed once before in Sunnydale to her recollection, and that was cause the PTB didn’t want Angel to dust himself, she really didn’t question it. Snow of the ‘falling from the sky’ variety and not the ‘sitting on mountain tops’ kind was a pleasant change from the dull holiday type weather they had been having recently. Giles would have attributed the freakish weather to mystical phenomena or some such very depressing thing that would lead to much patrolling and not enjoying of the festive holiday season.

As it was, Giles was not in Sunnydale this holiday season, having trotted off to England to catch up with old friends and stuff. Xander was entertaining the relatives at his house, introducing Anya to the Harris family clan even now. Just how would the alcohol imbibing relatives of the Harris clan react to Anya and her queer ways? Buffy mentally shrugged her shoulders, not wishing to think about it.

With both Giles and Xander otherwise occupied, that left her and Willow to a life or death match of Rock, Paper, Scissors for the rights and *gulp* privileges to housing Spike for the duration of Giles’ vacation.

And Willow really was good at Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Really good.

The fact that it was snowing, only a couple of days from Christmas, was a distraction of the good kind, ’cause being in the house that resulted in the Holiday overdose which her mother revelled in, and Spike was just joining in for the ride.

It was like they were twins separated at birth, and one of them frozen in time for a long, long time...yes...that makes sense.

Buffy looked through the window to see the pair of them trimming the tree...again, because one of them noticed that super slayer strength had managed to put the tree up crooked, and no one had noticed until after the shiny ornaments were on it.

She cursed Rock, Paper, Scissors again.


She turned to see her mother poking her head out of the back door.

“I’m going over to the Henderson’s seasonal party,” continued her mother. “I left egg nog for you and Spike in the fridge. Don’t let him drink all the rum please? I’m making rum balls tomorrow afternoon.”

She was being left alone with the fanged menace????

“Sure mom,” she answered civilly, her attention turning back to the snow that was falling on her face and eyelashes.

Sounded like a Julie Andrew’s song.

Buffy heard her mom say goodbye to Spike and the front door close.

And then something occurred to her.

Her mother didn’t tie up Spike when she left.

With a growl and some clenching of fists, Buffy stormed up her back steps and opened the back door.

Or rather tried to open the back door. Which seemed to now be locked. Frantically, Buffy tried the door again and again, with no success.

Of all the days to lock the door!

Descending the steps, Buffy headed to the front door of her house hoping to gain entrance.

Being from California really didn’t help the clothing or footwear options that dealt with snow and ice. Buffy, of course, realised this way too late. Sitting on a frozen over puddle in the middle of your front walk, so not the place she wanted to be thinking about this at all. Hoisting herself up from the cement and ice, she reached the front door to find that it too was locked and that Spike was watching some black and white Christmas movie and drinking what suspiciously looked like eggnog in the living room.

With a calming breath, Bufy jiggled the doorknob in frustration, before finally giving in and ringing the doorbell.

Buffy waited for a few moments for Spike to answer the door.

And waited.

And waited.

Curious as to why he still hadn’t opened the door for her, she peered back into the living room window, only to see him staring back at her.

And laughing.

There was a vampire in her house and he wasn’t letting her in. It was cold out here!

Buffy stamped her foot in frustration and stuck her tongue out at the cocky vampire who was enjoying the heat of her house and headed towards the tree next to her bedroom window.
There was laughter in her house as she slipped in through her bedroom window. Spike laughter to be specific. Buffy clenched her fist in rage, knowing full well that if her mom found out she had mistreated their guest for the holidays badly there would be yelling.

But if she couldn’t hit Spike, there were other ways to get him back for not opening the door. Her lips curved into a mischievous grin as she searched her dresser, letting out a little laugh when she found what she was looking for.

Buffy changed out of her sweater and into something, less. Ya sure, it was a very slinky pj type top that she wouldn’t have worn in public for anyone, but it showed off remarkable cleavage...of the neck variety and the other bits of skin that it showed off would suit the purpose too. She did her hair up in a messy knot on top of her head, a few tendrils of hair framing her face. She changed out of her black sensible pants and slipped on a pair of very low rise flannel pj bottoms before grabbing that huge cross that Angel had given her and trudging down stairs into the kitchen, clasping it just as she stepped onto the landing.

Without a word to the vampire who was staring blatantly at her obvious neck cleavage, Buffy popped a packet of popcorn in the microwave, poured herself a tall glass of Coke, and procured a bowl in which to put the popcorn in.

Across the kitchen, Spike was daring her, albeit silently, to get into a staring contest with him. Buffy knew better. Never get into a staring contest with cats, vampires or Cordelia Chase. It was like a rule or something. She tapped her nails against the countertop of the island waiting for the popcorn to pop. While Spike stared at her neck.

“You think that little cross is gonna keep me away from your luscious neck, Slayer?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

She rolled her eyes before responding. “Big Bad Vampire like you around, a girl can’t be too careful now can she?” she said in a mock little girl voice, smiling sweetly.

Her smile turned into a satisfied one, when Spike’s eyes bugged out of his head momentarily. He must have realised that she was playing him, his countenance returned to normal within half a second.

“You don’t want to get me all excited Slayer, it’s not good for little girls like you.”

“Would I do that Spike? Little old me?”

Buffy turned her attention to the popcorn and pressed ‘clear’ on the microwave before the kernels started to singe. The tasty snack found its way into the bowl and clutching the glass of Coke in her other hand, Buffy took her snack into the living room, Spike following faithfully behind.

She set down the Coke and the popcorn on the coffee table, turning a blind eye to the fact that Spike was already mooching off her popcorn and headed to the cupboard of movie goodness. Already knowing what her selection would be, Buffy played up the fact that it was on the bottommost shelf, sticking her ass up in the air as she bent over, silently smiling to herself that the low rise pj bottoms she was wearing were slowly sliding lower on her backside.

She thought she heard a muffled groan behind her. Quickly, she snatched up the movie and closed the cupboard. “Did you say something Spike?” she asked innocently.

“What?” he stumbled verbally, his eyes hald a glassy look. “No, ‘course not.”


Buffy popped the movie into the VCR and settled onto the couch giving herself plenty of room between her and the fanged menace.

“Just what have you decided we are going to watch then?” he asked reaching over for some more of her popcorn.

“Shakespeare in Love” she noted casually.

He snorted in response. “Girly movie, completely unrealistic!”

She whipped her head around to look at him, a protest about how he wasn’t around in Shakespearean times, so how would he know, on her tongue, but looking at his smug face, she was reminded of her plan. She smiled instead and turned her head back at the screen. Only moments into the movie, Spike got up off the couch and stretched, right in front of her view of the TV. She resisted the urge to throw popcorn at him.

Slowly, he moved out of her view and she resumed her attention on the screen and the unfolding romantic love story. Her attention to the wayward vampire pacing about in her kitchen wavered and she didn’t notice when he went into the spare room upstairs and shut the door.

But she did notice when she couldn’t hear the movie any more.

Johnny Ramone’s voice filled her ears, the volume inducing a headache instantly. It was beyond loud. The mirrors and light fixtures were shaking. Buffy was pretty sure you could have been able to hear it down the street.

And there was no way that she was going to be over heard by the stupid vampire to turn that down.

Buffy put down her bowl of popcorn with a thump, that she couldn’t have heard if she wanted to, and got up off the couch with a purpose. She found a flashlight and walked down the basement stairs.

By the washing machine she spied her target. She opened the fuse box with a smile and cut the power to the entire house.
There was a growl from the upper level of the house and stomping of feet as the vampire had his fun interrupted.

Buffy placed herself in the kitchen waiting for him to finally stomp in there, looking for blood or for booze or something.

When he finally did, opening the fridge and staring at the contents, she asked one question.


He looked her sitting in the dark by the telephone for a moment.

“I mean, that music hurt my ears, vamps have way better hearing that humans, didn’t it hurt your ears too? What’s the point? Besides you wanting to piss me off enough to stake you deader? ‘Cause that seriously can’t be the reason, can it?” she continued.

There was still no response from the vampire.

“Oh my god, that can’t be the reason. Spike!”

Given the fact that she couldn’t see his face, but knew instinctively that he was still in the kitchen and staring at her, made her uncomfortable.

Buffy hopped down off the kitchen stool and walked towards him. “Well there will be no staking this Christmas. Ok? First of all it’s not Christmas-y and secondly my mom would kill me.”

The refrigerator door closed slowly.

“God! Spike! Would you say something already? You’re freaking me out here!”

“Maybe that’s the point Slayer...” began the vampire in question.

“Please! Can we just sit and not talk for the rest of the evening. That would so completely make this day so much better.”

“Right then,” continued the vampire. “Just turn the power back on and we’ll all be happy silent housemates.”

“Right, so you can deafen the whole neighbourhood with the song stylings of The Ramones?” she asked sceptically.

“Impressed you even know who the Ramones are pet,” he said with a measure of curiosity.

“I’ll have you know that I was raised in a very eclectic household.”

“And that you know how to use the word eclectic,” he continued on.

Buffy stuck her tongue out at him in the darkness.

“You’d best keep your tongue in your mouth, pet, never know when some nasty’s gonna bite it off. Wouldn’t want your tongue caught in someone else’s teeth now.”

Buffy felt her heart start to beat a little faster, and a tell tale sign of just how much Spike was getting to her coating her panties.

“And just how would my tongue be gettin’ in someone else’s mouth now?” she asked, her fingers walking up his wash board abs. “You aren’t getting any ideas now are you?”

“Ah, pet, I’ve been getting ideas since you came down stairs in those skimpy pyjamas. But I thought that was the idea.”

With a scowl, Buffy turned away, only to be caught by Spike’s hand, pulling her back towards him.

“I’m thinkin’ maybe Slayer’s got some unresolved issues regarding our engagement?”

“You wish!” she growled, wrenching her arm out of his grasp. “I just wanted to torture you in a way that wouldn’t get me in trouble with my mom,” she admitted.

“Slayer, you can delude yourself all you like. This nose, knows better,” he noted, tapping the body part in question, and opening the fridge once more. “Eggnog?” he offered.


“What you don’t like egg nog? Not very festive of you pet,” he smirked.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Deftly navigating through the dark kitchen, Spike produced two tumblers of the nog, and helped himself to a hefty shot of rum in his glass, before sprinkling on nutmeg and handing the virgin nog to the slayer.

“Merry Christmas Slayer,” he said, raising his glass in a toast of sorts.

“Merry Christmas Spike,” Buffy answered reluctantly, taking a sip of her nog. “When was the last time you had a proper Christmas?” she asked.

“Well it certainly wasn’t last year. Don’t remember a proper Christmas since Prague, really. Before we came here, before you started making my unlife hell.”

Buffy shrugged her shoulders. “I’m the Slayer, it’s what I do.”

“That it is pet, and you asked a question. Got your answer.”

Buffy put her tumbler down on the counter and stepped away from him, returning to the stool she had been sitting on previously.

“So I made your unlife hell, so what? It’s your turn to make mine hell?” she asked.

“Turnabout is fair play, love,” observed the vampire downing his egg nog and rum.

“Except that’s not what you’ve been doing, you bleached moron,” Buffy sighed. “It’s like you’re a kid in fifth grade who pulls on my pig tails because you like me...”

Spike laughed, completely ignoring the analogy. “Had a little kiddie love back in the day?”

Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth in realisation of what she said and its truth. “ like me, like really like me, boy girl like.”

Spike snorted back at her. “What? Are you off your nut? I’m a vampire. I loathe you!”

“Sure, cause that’s why we’re sitting in a dark kitchen sipping egg nog. You like me.”

“Do not! Turn the bloody power back on!” he protested, setting his glass down and walking out of the kitchen.

“Don’t you run away from me, Spike!” Buffy called out after him and followed up the stairs, guided by her flashlight and into the spare room he was occupying for the rest of the holiday.

She threw back the door and shone the flashlight into the room, only to find him putting on his duster.

“Just where the hell do you think you are going?” she asked one hand on her hip, as she held the flashlight in the other.

“Away from you,” her muttered, taking a step towards the doorway. “Vamps, fledges get told of the Slayer, tales to make them behave and obey their sires, their masters. God, if true stories of you get out, fledges would never act out. I certainly wouldn’t’ve. You’re scary.”

“Huh?” She had to admit that he’d thrown her for another loop.

“You’re the soddin’ Slayer! Do you know how crazy falling in love with the Slayer would be? It’d make Drusilla seem sane! Now, think what you want, but I don’t like you, not in a vampire way, not in a little kid pullin’ hair way. Just soddin’ get out of my way.”

Buffy refused to budge. “I never said that you were in love with me, Spike,” she noted with a tender voice.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He made a motion to step around her, which she countered, reaching her arms out and pushing him towards the bed.

“Sit,” ordered the Slayer. “We are going to talk about this,” she said turning to put her flashlight down on the dresser, its light illuminating the bed.

“What’s to talk about, I loathe you, you loathe me...”

“We’re a dysfunctional family...ya I get that. I don’t think you really get it though, Spike. And...and I don’t think I loathe you...” Buffy sat down beside him on the bed.

“I knew that long before you did, Slayer,” he admitted quietly.

“The nose again, right? The whole vampire smelling people is gross, you know that right?”

“I know. I’m the one who bares the full brunt of the whelp’s BO.”

Buffy nervously giggled. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute and her hands were getting all clammy. She tried rubbing them on her pyjama pants, only to have Spike grasp her hand and hold it in his. Her emotions and feelings about this vampire had done the wacky in such a short space of time. At some point tonight she had definitely disliked him with a passion and now? Now she was really hoping he’d kiss her. Buffy bit her lip nervously ignoring a part of her that was trying to make her go find a stake and do away with this thing that was touching her.

“So every time I...”

“Cream your knickers?” he supplied with a smirk, Buffy smacking him lightly on the arm.

“Eww, I was going to say, get turned on...Every time I that, you know?”

“Embarrassing you with my enhanced Vampire sense of smell am I?”

Her gaze travelled the length of his arm and towards their intertwined fingers.

“You are holding my hand,” she noted calmly.

“My nose tells me that you don’t want me to stop...”

She blushed prettily and tried to find something else to talk about, until her eyes, completely involuntarily and out of the blue landed on his crotch.

“My eyes tell me you don’t want to stop it either,” she noted with a coy smile.

If there was a time and a place to take your destiny in your hands, for Buffy Summers, she decided that this was it, in the spare bedroom of her house, with the power off. Carefully, she reached over with her other hand and cupped his denim encased hard on.

“My hand tells me you don’t want to stop it too,” she whispered, shocked eyes staring her down as she leaned in towards his mouth.

Their lips met softly, Spike a tad unsure of exactly what was going on. Her lips were soft and familiar, their magically induced engagement hadn’t been so long ago that he had forgotten just how wonderful a kisser she was.

She pulled back from the kiss, panting, and in need of air. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked sincerely.

“Bloody hell!” he whispered, pulling her back towards his lips, his tongue, this time slipping in between her lips and seeking out to duel with hers.

In one fluid motion, the vampire raised himself up off the edge of the bed, and gathered the slayer up in his arms cradling her against his chest as they kissed. He laid her down upon the quilted bed, their mouths still moving together, exploring and touching. It was familiar territory for them both, but this time, each was satisfied in knowing that this was real.

It was real as Buffy pushed Spike’s duster off of his shoulders, the leather sliding swiftly to the floor, her fingers seeking out their next task and travelling up under his t shirt. His skin, so smooth and hard, begged to be touched. He was cool to the touch, but the way his mouth was working against her lips, he had an intensity within him that she had to find out about; it was something that she regretted not experiencing when they were engaged.

She pulled off his shirt and threw it across the room, sitting up as he did the same to hers, revealing no bra underneath. His lips sought out her breasts, fleshy mounds to tease and lick, forcing her to lie back down as he explored. Circling his tongue around one nipple he bit down gently, causing an audible gasp from the slayer and a giggle of delight following it.

His hands slowly trailed down her soft skin, teasing her sides and eliciting a giggle or two. His thumbs hooked into the waist of her pyjama bottoms and pulled down, his lips travelling towards her navel. The pants met the same fate as her shirt.

Spike pulled away from her, clad in only a pink scrap of cloth that passed for underwear. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

Buffy shook her head in reply. “Talking bad, kissing good,” she articulated.

His tongue returned to her navel, his fingers slowly making their way to the elastic and the bit of cloth that covered her mound. Curling his thumbs around the pink lace, he tore it in one motion and threw it to the side, his tongue and lips, kissing and licking their way towards her now exposed pussy, just wet and waiting for him to taste.

Crouched between her legs, and pushing her thighs apart, he marvelled at just how he had gotten to this point tonight. She was dead on about most of the things she’d observed about him and here he was faced with the most luscious pussy he had ever set eyes on, glistening with her juices and making him salivate from the smell. With a lick of his lips, he started in, licking her slit from bottom to top, and seeking out her clit, to nudge and lick.

“Spike!” she moaned. “This is way better than talking.”

He sucked her clit into his mouth, drawing blood to the surface. She was delicious and he needed more. He replaced his tongue with his thumb and rubbed her clit as his tongue explored the crevices of her pussy. With another lick, he began slowly inserting his tongue into her wet channel, thrusting his tongue ever deeper as he stroked her clit with this thumb.

Her legs held his head in a vice grip as she neared her climax, her moans reaching a pitch, screaming his name as she curled her fingers painfully into his hair.

He lapped up all her creamy spendings eagerly, stopped only by her painful fingers in his hair pulling him towards her lips. His cock was straining against the zipper of his jeans in an intensely painful way. Spike crawled up the length of Buffy’s body and placed a tentative kiss on her lips.

Buffy’s brain was stuck on ‘wow.’ Still she didn’t want it to stop. She was so far from loathing of this man who had just given her her first orgasm, that she wrapped her legs around his torso and pulled him closer.

“Like that did you?” asked the cocky vampire.

“Oh ya, pants off,” she ordered.

With a smirk, Spike stood up and excruciatingly slowly, unzipped himself, the light of the flashlight revealing just how much he had been concealing in his jeans. His cock bobbed at attention, the tip glistening with precum.

His length so occupied her brain that ridiculous quips started to flood her mind.

“You really are the Big Bad,” she mumbled, suddenly embarrassed as one of her puns slipped from her lips.

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth in purely seductive leer and pounced.

Buffy gasped as her vampire pinned her to the bed with his strong hands and forced her legs open with his own, positioning himself at her wet and ready entrance. He paused a moment, her anticipation becoming apparent as her skin broke out in goosebumps. The head of his cock bumped against her slit, causing her to gasp.

“You’re teasing me, Spike!” she whimpered.

“Got to get my jollies some how love, being all impotent as I am,” he smirked.

“Impotent my ass!” she barked. “Please, Spike.”

Spike let go of her arms and hoisted her legs over his shoulders, sliding his length in to her wet depths as he did so.

She was so tight his fought to keep from spending right there and then. Gradually, keeping control of the demon and his urge to cum, he began pumping out of her channel.

“Fuck, Slayer, you’ve got the tightest quim ever. Gonna shag you senseless,” he intoned, his voice keeping in rhythm with his thrusts.

Buffy had to concentrate on her breathing, or she was sure that she would forget to breathe. His length was hitting just the right spot within her, and her muscles were starting to tense up from the impending orgasm.

“Do it,” she moaned. “I can take it.”

Spike smirked down her and renewed the intensity of his thrusts, forcing the bed to bang against the wall loudly, but not as loud as the sounds coming from the Slayer’s throat.

The Slayer’s throat that had been taunting him all night. The Slayer’s throat that had another vamp’s mark on it. Continuing his thrusts, Spike leaned forwards, placing his lips over hers and muffling, for the moment the range of expletives that were issuing from her mouth as he fucked her.

“God, Spike, don’t stop!” she begged, her lips against his cheek, as he turned his head towards her neck.

Her legs slipped from his shoulders and wrapped themselves around his waist once more, making him thrust deeper into her core. His tongue snaked out of his cool mouth and licked a slick trail along her jugular and circling the marks the poofter left on her neck.

His face buried in her neck, she felt him shift and tensed as she awaited the bite. Her orgasm took hold of her first, as she screamed out his name and milking his cock, still mercilessly thrusting into her folds. With a roar he bit, imbedding his fangs over the previous mark, drawing her heated blood into his mouth, and coating her insides with his dead seed.

Pulling back, he slipped his fangs out of her neck and licked the wound closed. His cock still felt the flutterings of her weeping channel as it softened, still inside of her.

A glance to her face revealed a smile. His worried feelings hidden behind a cocky mask, were soothed as she reached up to hold his cheek tenderly. She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. Her tenderness caused a reaction in his still embedded cock.

“You realise that this changes everything, right?” she whispered.

He nodded tentatively. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, leaving them motionless, him hovering above her. His length started to harden once more as they stared at each other in the darkness.

Suddenly Buffy flipped them over, coming to rest impaled on his cock.

“And I’ve decided that it’s completely of the good. God, I love Rock, Paper, Scissors.”

He cocked his scarred eyebrow up in confusion.
Joyce Summers returned to her house, slightly worse for the holiday punch, and concerned that the power was only off in her house, and not any of the neighbours’ houses. Evidence in the kitchen suggested that the culprits had enjoyed some eggnog and there was a bowl of partially uneaten popcorn and a Coke in the living room. None of the switches were working, so she stumbled down to the fuse box and threw the stitch.

Upstairs in the guest room, the two lovers jumped out of the bed, as Spike’s Ramones tape started playing...loud.