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Going to Tell by Spikez_tart
Going to Tell


DISCLAIMER: Buffy belongs to Joss and the Mutants.



I’m going to tell him today.

He was sweet last night, kissing me, holding me as tenderly as only he knows how. Everything he did was right, the way he knows I like it. Best of all, he didn’t say one snarky thing to piss me off and send me flying out of his crypt in a rage.

So, I’m going to tell him.

I’m going to tell the rest of them today, too. I’m not going sneak around any more. They’ll spawn a herd of goats, but I don’t care. I could tell them first, not that I love him, but that we’re hanging out together. Once I’ve eased them into the idea of a Spike and Buffy Couple, I can tell them how I feel but, I want to tell him first.

That’s only right.

I wanted to tell him last night, when he was lying on top of me, inside me, still hard and crushing me into the bed. I felt so relaxed and happy and surrounded with love, I got wrapped up in the moment and kept putting it off. I concentrated on licking his ear and didn’t get around to whispering in it, which is what I should have been doing.

Way before I was ready, he rolled off me.

“Spike, there’s something I want to tell you.”

“Time to go, luv,” he said, shifting into his sleepy vampire purr. He fell asleep before I could say boo.

I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at him. This was the first time, absolutely the first time ever that Spike let me leave without wheedling me to stay for a few more minutes, an hour, another kiss, the rest of the night, the rest of my life. I couldn’t even argue with him, which would have made me feel slightly better about leaving.

I ought to stay until sun up, just to show him, but I had to go home and check on Dawn. Things would be a lot simpler if he lived with me instead of in this crypt. I wouldn’t have to run out in the middle of the night. Also, I wouldn’t have to pee in the bushes. Maybe we can live together, once everything’s out in the open.

Since he fell asleep, I changed my plan. I’ll tell him later and tell the gang today. I kissed him and got dressed and left for home.

I went home and showered and dressed, then walked over to the Magic Box, bringing a bag of donuts to soften the blow. The shop hadn’t opened yet, but Anya was fondling her money and dusting things. Anya’s a good person to tell. She wouldn’t care if I slept with a polgara demon, as long as I stayed clear of Xander.

So, say it, Buffy. Open your mouth.

“Where’s the gang?” I said instead. Boy, I am a coward. If I can’t tell Anya, who doesn’t care what I do, how am I going to tell the rest of them? I offered Anya a strawberry-glazed with black licorice bits and greasy crumbly things on top.

She waved off the donut. “They’ll be here later.”

Anya doesn’t have the proper appreciation for donuts. It must be the lingering effects of her demon past. Vengeance demoning must have burned love of excessive sugar consumption out of her system.

I sat down at the reading table and fumbled around with the strawb-lick-crumblies donut, without actually doing anything useful, like eating it. I broke it into four pieces. I arranged it different patterns on a paper napkin. I licked the black licorice bits off my fingers and smeared greasy crumbly things on my new pink top.

“So, uh, Anya, I have something to tell you. Tell everybody, actually. It’s about Spike.” There, I said it. Sort of. I stuffed all four donut pieces in my mouth out of pure relief.

“If your big secret is about you enjoying sexual intercourse with Spike, I already know. Is he any good in the sack? Can we trade sexual techniques?”

Could there be anything more ewww-packed than trading sex techniques with Anya?

“So much for big news.” I nibbled on a raspberry-filled donut with cranberry and peanut butter icing. While I was chewing, I came up with a brilliant idea. “Would you tell Xander for me?”

“I told him months ago. He doesn’t believe me. He said you learned your lesson with Angel and would never have sex with a vampire again. I explained to him how vampires are highly erotic creatures who can have sexual relations for long periods of time which is pleasing to their partners, but he hates Spike, so he refused to believe that you were fornicating with him. He didn’t believe me when I told him that Spike, being a vampire, had a really large organ, either.”

Anya enjoys a natural talent for making people blush. People like me. Usually by saying stuff that’s true.

“I’ll tell Xander myself.” Sometime in the next decade.

I bit into another donut. This donut was filled with vanilla custard and frosted with bubble-gum and butterscotch icing. It’s a questionable combination in my opinion. Surely some rainbow sprinkles are required? I ate it anyway.

Willow and Tara came into the shop and saved me from nonstop gorging of sugar-coated fat rings. Tara knows about me having sex with Spike. She’s all Understanding Girl. She’ll help me over the rough parts with Willow. She’ll keep Willow’s skull from exploding. I can count on Tara.

“No one speak to me,” Willow said. “I am Bad Moody. Look at this, Buffy.”

She waved a homework paper in front of my nose. It was marked with an A minus.

“Hey, you got an A minus,” I said.

“Don’t you mean, oh Willow, I’m so sorry, you only got an A minus. I know you deserved an A plus?”

This is no big heartbreak to me. I can’t remember ever getting an A minus on anything, but I indulge Willow with Supportive Girl Talk while she eats a sufficient number of donuts to calm herself down.

The donuts are disappearing fast. I don’t think I brought enough donuts for a Supportive Girl Talk with Willow and an I’m Having Sex with Spike Confession.

My Avoid Scooby Confrontations At All Costs Policy settled back in place. I’m out of the mood to make confessions. I’ll go back to my original plan, and tell Spike. Then, I’ll tell everybody else. The first plan is the best plan.

Especially if you’re a coward, like me.

Anya gave me a kick in the pants, conversationally speaking. I should have counted on the Queen of Blurting Out to open the way, when an embarrassing subject is available.

“Buffy is copulating with Spike,” Anya said. She flicked her feather duster over Frimwerst, an ugly phallic god statute.

I gave her a nasty look, which she ignored.

Willow choked on a rather large piece of pumpkin pie spice donut with a grape jelly center and peppermint sprinkles. Tara thumped her on the back and fetched a glass of water. Willow shouldn’t take such big bites.

When she could breathe again, Willow said, “What did Anya say? Do I want to know what Anya said?”

Tara smiled at me in her shy way and nodded her head for me to start talking.

“Well, uh, Spike and I … we’ve been kinda seeing each other for a while, well for a few months, and I wanted to tell you that we’re together. Or, whatever.” Whatever covers a lot of territory, doesn’t it?

Willow put on her Buffy is Not Speaking English Face. “By seeing Spike, do you mean seeing as in having visual images of Spike touch your eyeballs or do you mean having sex with Spike?”

I couldn’t exactly look her in the eye. “Yes, not the visual thing with the eyeballs but the other thing, well actually the visual thing, too, cause sometimes I have my eyes open. And, the eyeballs.” I touched the silver cross hanging around my neck. Do crosses protect against Wicca Evil Eye?

Willow launched like a two-liter bottle of shaken pop. I was pretty sure the head explosion thing was about to happen, too.

“Didn’t you learn anything from Angel? You’re mixed up with another Evil Dead?”

What did Angel have to do with anything? “Why does everyone keep harping on what I did with Angel, and what Angel did after what I did, which wasn’t my fault?”

Why is it I don’t get to be happy, like everybody else? Is being the Slayer a license to be miserable? I also want to say Spike is not Evil Dead, but I’m not on totally solid ground there, except for the Dead part.

“If I remember correctly,” Willow said, “Angel killed Ms. Calendar and tortured Giles. That could be why harping continues unabated.”

“Spike, didn’t kill anybody we know. Lately.”

“There’s a Good Housekeeping recommendation. He didn’t kill anybody we know lately. Pffft.”

I think about their perfect romantic relationships. By comparison, having a relationship with a Vampire Sex God does not seem so bad.

“Why is it I am the only one around here who has to report to the whole group before I sleep with someone? It’s okay for you to have sex with a werewolf and for Xander to sleep with mummies and praying mantis girls and ex-vengeance demons. I’m not the only one around here sleeping with non-humans.”

“I am too human,” Anya said.

“Shut up, Anya!” Willow and I snapped at her together.

“Do exactly what you want, Buffy,” Willow said with a superior and snotty air. “You always do.”

Boy, that is such a lie, I fumed. When do I ever get to do what I want? When do I get to do one single thing without being under the Scooby microscope for suspected bad behavior? I drum my fingers on the table, feeding my temper. I cram another donut in my mouth so I won’t say anything else I might not regret later. This donut has buttercream, carob and carrot spice tofu pulp in the middle.

Tofu is healthy.

Tara intervened. She touched Willow on the arm to get her nose out of the air. “Will, Spike is a changed vampire. He helped us patrol while Buffy was dead and he took care of Dawn. He saved a lot of lives. He saved our lives. That should count for something.”

Willow shrugged as if to say, who cares if Spike saved our lives about a hundred dozen times?

I smiled at Tara. Thanks for trying smile.

Willow frowned at Tara. “How long have you known about Spike and Buffy, Tara?”

Tara blushed and hung her head and didn’t answer her.

But, I did.

I’d been irritated with Willow for a long time before this conversation. I’d been holding my anger back, but now I’m not holding back. “Don’t blame Tara. I told Tara three weeks ago. I told her because Spike can hurt me since you hauled me back from the dead.”

Spike hurting me thing is not exactly a point in Spike’s favor, so I move along to the Real Contention Boneage.

“I asked Tara to check out your crappy magic spell to see how you screwed me up. I asked Tara not to tell anyone so your precious feelings wouldn’t get hurt. And, I told her I was sleeping with Spike. I couldn’t tell my Supposed Bestest Friend because she would have gotten her nose all out of jointy.”

Willow sniffled.

I ought to feel bad for hurting Willow’s feelings, but I’m enjoying Angry Outburst.

All the worries and unhappiness that have been hanging on me since Willow brought me back, burst out like dust erupting from a vampire’s dead heart. I want Willow to feel bad, the way I do. I want to rub in the fact she did something stupid.

There were only two donuts left.

One of them was chocolate fudge with maraschino cherries. The other was a mocha marshmallow with orange rind and sour ball chunks. I hate mocha marshmallow. I’m not proud of it, but I planned on grabbing that chocolate fudge at Maximum Slayer Speed so Willow couldn’t get it.

Before I could lift a finger to snatch the last decent pastry, Willow levitated it right over to her side of the table! She magicked it right over to herself without asking! This is unfair beyond the telling. I glared at Willow and slapped the mocha marshmallow onto my paper napkin. I ripped the donut apart and shoved a huge piece into my mouth.

We munched in silence for a moment.

“You know what else, Will? I love being with Spike. Every minute I spend with him is a minute I don’t have all of you hanging on me like a bunch of pathetic bunnies, too afraid to make your own decisions about anything. What about this, Buffy, what about that, what do we do now, blah blah blah. Dawn has an excuse, she’s a kid, but the rest of you so do not.”

“Bunnies? Ugh,” Anya said. She opened the cash register drawer to comfort herself by stroking the bills.

“Buffy --” Willow tried to interrupt, but I didn’t let her. Angry Outburst is too much fun. Besides her mouth is full of chocolate fudge. Willow shouldn’t talk with food in her mouth.

“Do you want to know why I love being with Spike? He never asks me what he’s supposed to do. He only tries to make me happy. He decides things all on his own, in fact, he makes all the decisions. He decides if we’re going to screw face up, face down, which body parts, how long, how fast, how everything! He tells me I’m going to like it and he tells me when to cum, and I DO!”

Willow’s face turned a lovely and highly satisfactory shade of maroon.

I was so angry and shouting so loud, I didn’t hear the bell to the shop ring. I shoved my chair away from the table, ready to stomp out of the shop, when I saw Dawn standing at the door, giggling. She heard the whole fight. Now, my face is red.

Angry Outburst replaced by Unbearable Mortification.

“I’m not a kid,” Dawn said and came over to the table. “No donuts left?”

I shoved greasy papers and donut scraps back into the empty sack. Did I really eat five donuts?

Dawn put her arms around me and hugged me. “I love Spike, too, Buffy. Can he come to live with us? That would be so cool.”

At least my sister, who isn’t actually my sister, loves and accepts me.

“I don’t know,” I muttered and charged out the door.

I walked down the street and into a nearby chain drugstore. I picked out a lurid Welcome to Sunnydale postcard and paid for the card and a little booklet of stamps. I didn’t know how much it cost to send a postcard to England, so I put on five extra stamps. I wanted to make sure Giles gets this. I addressed the card and wrote on the back: Dear Giles, Banging Spike. Deal. Love Buffy.” I dropped the card in a post box at the corner.

I wanted to go home and cry myself silly, but it was time to go to work, so instead, I put on my cow hat with the jaunty red chicken feather and reported for duty at the DoubleMeat Palace.


Spike cruised by the DoubleMeat right after the sun went down, but I was in no mood to talk. I met him in the alley next to the Dumpster. We are nothing if not romantic.

He fired up a cigarette and offered me a sip from his flask.

Ewww,” I said. “Or, not ewww. I’ll take a taste.”

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing while I took a big gulp. If I was going to be lovers with Spike, I should learn to love the things he loves, right? Aaacck! Or, not.

“Anything you care to discuss, my pet?”

“Don’t call me –.” I forgot for a minute that I was in love with him and it would be okay for him to call me pet. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how much he meant to me, how he was and always will be the best thing in my life. It was bubbling up out of me lava hot, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to always remember that the first time I told Spike I loved him was in the alley behind the DoubleMeat Palace while lounging next to the dumpster.

“Sorry, I’m wallowing in Intense Aggravation at Supposed Best Friend.”

“Sounds like fun, that. You’d better stake her and be done with it.”

“Tempting. Say, Spike, if a person had a secret, the kind of secret that’s well, secrety, and the person didn’t want anyone to know about the secret, but then, they changed their mind about keeping the secret a secretry secret, and maybe wanted to upgrade it to a not so secrety secret, and decided to tell the persons that they’d been keeping the secret from, but then, when the person told the secret, the persons who found out that there’d been a secret all along got upset and stole a chocolate fudge with maraschino cherries donut from the person with the secret, who actually bought the donut in the first place, don’t you think that the persons who got told the secret should be happy for the person who had the secret now that they decided not to keep it a secret anymore and also should not have stolen the chocolate fudge with maraschino cherries donut?”

Spike took a long draw on his cigarette. “Maybe we should skip right to the kissing?”


I worked a double shift because Madge didn’t show up for work. It was late and I was dragging by the time I got home. I wanted to blow off patrol. I wanted to take a shower. I wanted to go see Spike and tell him everything that was caught in my heart.

Instead, I got Xander.

When I came into the house, Xander and Dawn were in the living room, playing Life, watching a movie without sound, listening to a Britney Spears’ CD – ewww - and eating anchovy, pineapple and alfafa sprout pizza. How can they eat that stuff?

He gave me I Know All About it Eye. Great. Willow blabbed already. I waved my hand, hoping to escape a Meaningful Conversation and headed up the stairs, but Xander came out and asked if he could talk to me. I gave up and followed him into the kitchen.

“Okay. Just say it.”

“Okay, I just will.” Xander put his hands in his pockets and pulled them back out again and shuffled his feet and said nothing. After stalling a while, he said, “Look, Buffy…”

I hate conversations that begin ‘Look, Buffy.’

“You know how we all feel about Spike. Basically, we hate him. But, if you see some good in the guy, we’ll try to see it, too. I’m sorry we’ve been such jerks that you didn’t think you could tell us. We want you to be happy and if Spike’s the Happy Guy, we’ll just have to learn to stand it. Willow said she’s sorry about the way your talk went today and she’d like you to come over for a girl talk tomorrow. Also, she requested a Smoochies Report, but I refused to get involved.”

I felt a huge lump in my throat. I squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Xander.”

“Does Spike make you happy, Buffster?”

What does it mean to be a Slayer and have to kill things all the time and worry about the end of the world and stuff and to be happy? How can Spike be responsible for making me happy? Isn’t being happy my problem? He does make me happy sometimes. He’d probably make me happy a lot more, if I’d give him the chance.

“Sometimes. A lot of times. I’m unhappy when I’m away from him. You should ask if I make him happy.” I turned away so Xander wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes.

Spike was standing in the kitchen door. Am I losing my hearing?

“This is my cue to leave,” Xander said. “Don’t screw up, Corpse of Iniquity.” He called out good night to Dawn and walked out the front door.

“Piss off, Harris,” Spike said in a friendly way. He put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

Ugh. DoubleMeat Grease Hair.

“Told your mates, did you?”

I’m too busy crying into his shirt to answer. This is not how I planned my Major Romantic Declaration. “Damn it, Spike. I don’t want to talk to you about stuff while I smell like Doublemeat burgers.”

“What stuff, Buffy?” he asked in his deep, quiet Spike voice that makes me melt into a pool of hot Buffy goo. He kissed my ear and my neck and my cheek, which was very nice.

I kissed his lips. “I love you stuff.”

The End