A Little Help

For:skybound2
Rating: R
Request: Canon-based, Season 2 or 4. Umm, little bit o' angst, and little bit o' sweetness. How's that for vague?

Response: Clearly, I had a lot of leeway here! I went with Season 4 and one of my favorite Spike eps: Pangs. Not sure if I've delivered angst/sweetness, but I hope it's enjoyable regardless!
Summary: Season 4, Pangs. Spike is shot with four arrows during the siege at Giles' house. Someone has to get them out of him.Who better than Buffy?? 

“Little help over here?”

Nothing. Sodding wankers.

“’EY! I said, little help?”

A voice comes from the kitchen. The whelp. “How little? ‘Cause I can help you very very little.”

Ha fucking ha. When I get this chip out, he’s going to be the first neck to sna - “About damn time.” Stupid boy tips my chair back upright, jostling nearly every arrow sticking out of my body in the process.

“You are so welcome, Spike. Have I mentioned lately how much we all hate having you here? No? Well, let me count the ways...” Stake me. Just stake me before I have to listen to one more rambling sentence from this little pisser. I glare at him as he prattles on. “Hey Buffy, you want I should leave the arrows in or yank ‘em out?”

I strain against my ropes, wanting to get ahold of him. “Don’t even think about touch - oh hello, Slayer.” The faint scent of jasmine greets me. Why does this bint always have to smell so fucking good?

“You wanna tone down the bloodlust a bit there, Spike? You’re a guest. Okay. Prisoner. Whatever.” She puts her hands on those tiny little hips of hers and gives me a pointed look. Guess I was looking a bit...hungry.

“Help me out, pet.” I try to make my voice almost friendly, but fail miserably. At least I just sound mildly pissed instead of neck-snapping pissed. Try having four arrows stuck in you and not get cranky about it.

She cocks her head to the side. I can see a giggle just dying to pop out of that cherry red mouth. Bitch. “Say please, Spike.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Please.” I want to swallow my own tongue, but I can only take so many indignities in one day. Not looking - and feeling - like a vampire pincushion would at least eliminate two of them.

“Keep stirring the potatoes, Anya! They’ll get lumpy.” She snaps her head back to me and grins. “Sooooo, what can I help you with, Spike?” Slayer is enjoying this way too much. Must be a bit of evil in her after all. Kind of makes her more likeable, truth be told. Definitely more biteable. She looks me over, eyes widening comically. “Oh my! Look at all those arrows! That must be terribly uncomfortable. Shall I...?”

I nod, afraid that if I open my mouth and actually respond to her like I want to, I’ll be tipped over on the floor again with an arrow stuck somewhere really uncomfortable. She grabs the shaft of the arrow that came through my shoulder from behind with both hands and my eyes widen. She’s going to just yank it out with all her Slayer strength.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Slayer pauses, blinking innocently, her foot braced on the edge of the chair between my legs.

And she smiles. God, I hate her. She’s flat out enjoying this. We’re more alike than I thought. I’d probably have twisted the arrow a little given the chance, though. “What’s the matter? Is widdle Spikey afraid it’s going to be ouchy?” Her saccharine sweet voice grates on me like nails on a chalkboard. And there’s the twist of the arrow. Fuck. She is a little too much like me sometimes. Not that she’d ever stoop to recognize it, ‘course.

I cringe a little and maybe, just maybe she looks concerned for a split second. It doesn’t last. She leans forward, and all I can smell is jasmine and her shampoo and oh god, that coppery tang of recently spilt blood. Slayer got cut on the arm in the fight. Oh, and the other arm, too. Two fresh wounds. Double fuck.

She leans back after checking the arrow in my shoulder and catches my eye. “What are you doing? Did you just...sniff me?” Did I?

“No! ‘Course not.” I look at her, trying to think of something. “I...well, you were thrusting them right in my face. What was I supposed to do?”

Buffy glances down at her chest and flushes immediately. OH. Didn’t mean those. Meant the cuts....but now that she mentions it... “There was no...no thrusting!” The blush deepens and really, the Slayer could stop that anytime. Between her pink cheeks and the scent of her blood, I’m starting to have a bit of a problem downtown.

“Everything all right, Buffy?” A voice from the kitchen. Meddling Watcher.

“Yes!” Buffy glares at me. “I’m just-”

“BUGGER!”

“-helping Spike out with his little arrow problem.” She holds up the bloody arrow she just pulled from my shoulder with a little wink. Fucking tease. “That’s one.” At my glare, she continues. “Oh come on, it broke off when you fell. THAT one is going to hurt the least.”

I sigh, look down and realize she may have a point. She is studying the two sticking out of my abdomen and I start to get nervous. They are imbedded, but didn’t go through.

“You heal pretty quick, right, Spike?”

“Slayer...” My tone holds a warning she is doing a good job of ignoring.

“Better to just use the old Band-Aid method, don’t you think? All at once better than slow and painful?”

“Slayer, I’m not kidding...don’t....”

“One good tug should do it.”

“Ooh, Slayer. Talk dirty to me.” I chuckle and am quickly sorry. Don’t tease the super strong girl while tied up and unable to defend yourself. It’s a good thing to keep in mind. Without a word, she reaches out and takes ahold of one arrow in each hand. The little smirk on her face makes me curse being tied up once again. Trying to hop away is only going to make this worse. “Don’t you soddin’ do it, Slayer.”

“I think it’s for the best.” I close my eyes as her grip tightens and try not to hear the ripping when a blaze of white hot pain goes through me in the next second. I don’t know if the sound was skin or my shirt and I am not keen on finding out.

“Bloody fucking buggering FUCK!” I open my eyes just in time to be treated to the sight of a tight Slayer bum as she tumbles backwards onto the floor, one arrow in each hand. Girl doesn’t know her own strength. I am distracted from the pain for a second as she looks up at me from the floor, grinning. “What the hell are you smiling at?”

“That’s two and three.” She holds them up and then chucks them aside.

“Seriously, Slayer, you’re a bit twisted.” She gets to her feet, brushing off her bum. I cock an eyebrow at her and try to ignore the screaming pain in my side. “Like that in a girl.”

Slayer frowns and she gets that cute little wrinkle right between her eyes. Wait a soddin’ minute. Cute? When did I start referring to the Slayer as cute? Must be the blood loss. Making me light-headed. Yeah.

“I should’ve known I’d need to draw blood for you to get turned on. Pig.”

“Oh, so you were trying to figure out what would do it for me, pet? I’m flattered.” I love it when she gets flustered. Makes these great spluttering sounds.

“That is not what I meant.”

“Whatever, love.”

It’s quiet for a second and then both of us look to the last arrow. Sticking straight out of my thigh. Buffy steps forward and I swear she is blushing again. What the? “Sorry, Spike.”

“I know I heard you wrong there, pet. Almost sounded like you said sorry to me.”

“Yeah...this one is really going to hurt. Not sure why I give a crap. It’s kind of like that instinct to help a stray dog on the street. No matter how dirty and mangy and possibly rabid it is...”

“I get the point, Slayer. And I’m not mangy.”

“Matter of opinion.”

Buffy leans forward and touches the arrow in my leg. That one stings a bit. “Loosen your thigh muscle, Spike.”

“It is loose.”

“You call that loose?” Buffy’s hand trails down my thigh and I nearly tip the chair over again with a jerk. She yanks her hand away like it was burnt and darts a glance over into the kitchen, where the cooking continues. She’s a curious little thing, it seems. And she’s avoiding my eye contact. Interesting.

Before I can sort out her oddball behavior, her left hand comes down hard on my other thigh. “Don’t get fresh, Slayer. I can’t even defend my honor here.”

“Like you have any honor, Spike. Now shut it.” Her right hand grasps the arrow and in her new position, I can totally see down her blouse. Nice. Her blond hair swings forward and grazes my cheek as she turns her attention to the last arrow. When she looks back up at me, I can see the flecks of brown in her eyes. Not sure I’ve ever been this close to the Slayer before.

She’s fucking hot.

The hot sweet smell of her blood is making my mouth water. I can see her chest rise and fall a little faster as I stare at her and lick my lips. The searing pain of her tugging on the arrow imbedded in my thigh distracts me from the shiny gloss of her mouth pretty damn quickly. “That hurts, pet.”

My low, quiet response to the pain seems to draw her even closer. “Yeah?” I nod. “Well, then you might want to brace yourself.” Her warm breath on my face is enough to make me very sorry I am still tied up. The heat of her, in every possible way, is a new kind of torture. I’ve always wanted to kill her. Turns out I want to do a few other things to her first.

All thoughts of shagging the Slayer senseless fly out of my head in the next second as the bint yanks that arrow clean out of my leg in one blinding flash of pain. I grit my teeth and resist yelling in her face. Because even with the arrow out, she’s still right there. Looking at me. That little frown line in her forehead is back.

“That had to hurt.”

“It did, Slayer.” The throbbing in my thigh...as well as a little higher and to the left, is keeping me focused on her. My eyes trail down her neck, following the artery. Imagining the flow of that blood over my tongue, down my throat. Her sounds when I bite her. The feel of her skin against mine.

In a moment, it’s all gone. Her warmth, her presence. I blink and re-focus to find her standing a few feet away. She’s still breathing hard. Her eyes are on mine. There is fear and a hint of something else. Something so unexpected I think I must have been mistaken. No way the Slayer was looking at me like I was just looking at her. Hungry.

“Try not to bleed on the rug, okay, Spike?” Her voice wavers just a little on my name and I grin at her. Slayer throws the last arrow to the ground and stomps away to the kitchen.

I take the opportunity to watch her go and think about what could have been. And what might still be to come. One of these days I won’t be tied up and then we’ll see...