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Oct. 19th, 2005 07:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mhalachaiOkay, I really promise this is the last one. I'll stop spamming your flist with fic after this one! (at least for today). An Anita/Spike ficlette for the Ficlette Fiasco II. (master list found here)
No Relation
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all the Buffy the Vampire Slayer stuff. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
penyn_1600.
~~*~~
"Name."
Spike snorted, wishing desperately those damned cops hadn't taken his smokes away when they tossed him in this cell. "Spike."
The young dark-haired woman took another step closer to the cell. Another two steps, and Spike might be able to grab her through the bars. "Spike's not a name, it's a pointy object." She smiled threateningly. "Sort of like 'stake'."
"Me-ow," Spike said, smiling and trying to seem harmless. She wasn't impressed, he could tell. "You going to tell me your name first, pet?"
At the last word, the woman's eyes narrowed. She was so angry, Spike knew, the scent of it coming off her in tantalizing waves. "I'm Anita Blake," she snapped.
Whoa. Spike jerked backwards, getting as far away from her across the cell as he could. "Ain't no need to be calling the bloody Executioner," he spat. This was almost worse than calling in a Slayer to finish him off. Slayers didn't come armed with shotguns. "I didn't do nothing wrong. Was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Anita paced across the strip of concrete on the other side of the bars, just far enough away so Spike wouldn't be able to grab her even if he wanted to. "Funny how many vampires tend to say that," she said. "But we now have you, no name, no ID." She smiled thinly. "And no permission to be in the city."
That made Spike look closer at Anita. What was it he'd heard about the Executioner? That she'd somehow hooked up with that poncy French vamp in charge of this town? "How'd you know I ain't got permission if you don't know my name?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You just don't!"
"Temper temper, pet." Spike thought furiously. If the master wanted to, he was within his rights to try and kill any master vampire who'd ventured into town without permission. He might have a hard time in getting past the cops outside the cell, however. Coming to a decision, he said, "The name's William Blake."
Anita scowled at him. "That's not funny."
"I'm not being funny," Spike shot back. "The name Blake's been around for ages." He ran his eyes over Anita’s body. "Don't suppose that we're..." he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
She made a disgusted sound in her throat. "There is no way in hell that I'm related to the likes of you," she said, whirling on her heel and stalking out of the room.
There. That didn't go so bad. Now, he had at least a little while, until the cops let him out of here, to figure out how he was going to avoid the Master on the way out of town.
He would have given anything for a smoke.
--fin
No Relation
by Mhalachai
Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all the Buffy the Vampire Slayer stuff. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: For
penyn_1600. "Name."
Spike snorted, wishing desperately those damned cops hadn't taken his smokes away when they tossed him in this cell. "Spike."
The young dark-haired woman took another step closer to the cell. Another two steps, and Spike might be able to grab her through the bars. "Spike's not a name, it's a pointy object." She smiled threateningly. "Sort of like 'stake'."
"Me-ow," Spike said, smiling and trying to seem harmless. She wasn't impressed, he could tell. "You going to tell me your name first, pet?"
At the last word, the woman's eyes narrowed. She was so angry, Spike knew, the scent of it coming off her in tantalizing waves. "I'm Anita Blake," she snapped.
Whoa. Spike jerked backwards, getting as far away from her across the cell as he could. "Ain't no need to be calling the bloody Executioner," he spat. This was almost worse than calling in a Slayer to finish him off. Slayers didn't come armed with shotguns. "I didn't do nothing wrong. Was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Anita paced across the strip of concrete on the other side of the bars, just far enough away so Spike wouldn't be able to grab her even if he wanted to. "Funny how many vampires tend to say that," she said. "But we now have you, no name, no ID." She smiled thinly. "And no permission to be in the city."
That made Spike look closer at Anita. What was it he'd heard about the Executioner? That she'd somehow hooked up with that poncy French vamp in charge of this town? "How'd you know I ain't got permission if you don't know my name?" He crossed his arms over his chest.
"You just don't!"
"Temper temper, pet." Spike thought furiously. If the master wanted to, he was within his rights to try and kill any master vampire who'd ventured into town without permission. He might have a hard time in getting past the cops outside the cell, however. Coming to a decision, he said, "The name's William Blake."
Anita scowled at him. "That's not funny."
"I'm not being funny," Spike shot back. "The name Blake's been around for ages." He ran his eyes over Anita’s body. "Don't suppose that we're..." he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
She made a disgusted sound in her throat. "There is no way in hell that I'm related to the likes of you," she said, whirling on her heel and stalking out of the room.
There. That didn't go so bad. Now, he had at least a little while, until the cops let him out of here, to figure out how he was going to avoid the Master on the way out of town.
He would have given anything for a smoke.
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Date: 2005-10-20 09:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 02:58 pm (UTC)Hey, icon question. What is that icon? From AB cover art?
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