Owen (owenthurman) wrote,
Owen
owenthurman

FIC: Stupid Question (3/?)

Disclaimer: ME, Fox, and Joss. Yours!

Feedback: wanted

Notes: The SAT is an academic test taken mostly by seventeen year olds in the USA for admission to university. When Buffy took it, the test consisted of a Verbal and a Quantitative test with separate scores.

Stupid Question

Part three, wherein our champion sets off on a vespa, new here on my lj. Finally. More coming soon.

Old entries in the memories.



"The garden, it is so very beautiful this spring. Little flowers and deep green herbs. Smells like old Italian family dinner."

Signora Cioni took Dawn and Buffy in as homestudy students after the Summer of shopping. Through 76 years in Rome the signora raised seven children and since they grew up and left home she takes in Italian language students for a local total immersion program.

Takes them in between visits from the grandchildren, anyway.

And Signora Cioni really knows how to cook. Buffy gained fifteen pounds living with her before she found an apartment in her building for Dawn and Buffy to settle in permanently.

Fifteen extra pounds that looked great in Buffy's little black dress and delighted the Immortal. Curvier breasts draw eyes but it is Buffy's legs that really keep the attention and her new wardrobe is cut almost as high as the dresses she wore when she arrived in Sunnydale.

She had to cover up her too skinny legs ever since high school. Buffy would never let the stress catch up to her like that again. She likes her new less stress Buffy body. Peace of mind is a nice side effect, too.

Had it really been four years she was so skinny that she was afraid to show off her legs at all? What would Spike have done with the new sexy Buffy with his hands rising on her new curvy thighs and his cool tongue circling her breasts? Cool and wet spiraling slowly up toward her nipple pointing upwards more erect with anticipation each turn; crystal blue eyes focusing into hers, into her soul, wanting her, loving her, full of nothing but Buffy.

Warm tingles fill her belly and she needs to reach a hand out to the wall to steady herself.

"Buffy, truly you dance the song of the green."

"What? Uh, what did you say?" Startled. Somehow Buffy had been distracted.

"The garden. It has never been so beautiful before you took on cultivation of it."

"Oh, thank you." Gardening is something else Buffy had picked up from Signora Cioni along with italian cooking and her nearly perfect accent. Over the years Buffy had lost confidence in her ability to study but Italian classes changed everything. Her quick absorption of nearly fluent Italian proved that Buffy matching Willow's Verbal SAT score was no fluke.

"Now your houseguest, he has come again and again to borrow--"

A catchy tune from a indistinguishable mid '90s boy band rang out from Buffy's pocket

"Giles. Sorry, signora, I have to take this." Thank goodness; she might never have got away from that conversation in time to meet the Immortal.

--

"The capo is a head? That makes sense."

"Yes, well, we have discovered intelligence that indicates that the head must be returned to prevent imminent hostilities between demon clans."

"Returned where, Giles?"

"The transport is being handled by," he pauses. "It's being handled by Wolfram and Hart."

"Angel's evil law firm?"

"No, the Italian branch. You must discover where they are shipping the capo and see that it arrives with the family so they can perform the rituals on time. The Immortal cannot be allowed to start this war. We may have a contact for you. Vincenzo Bernucci-Facci is a corrupted former watcher who runs the Ancient Prophecies wing at Wolfram and Hart's Rome office. I'm sending you a picture from his file. The office is on Via Appia at--"

"I know it. The Immortal likes to work with I-wanna-Ilona," Buffy stressed the sarcasm in 'work.' "What about your scotch champion?"

"Scottish. Scottish champion. He arrives at Fiumicino at eleven tonight."

"I'll call you then. I've got to go or I'll be late to meet the Immortal."

"Buffy, Andrew reported again and I'm really worried that you may be connecting to the subject of this mission under influence of some sort of spell or potion..."

She interrupted, "if you'd killed Spike like you wanted, you would have destroyed the entire world."

"You almost killed everyone on Earth. I know how to keep the mission first, Giles. Don't question my methods."

Silence.

"I told you not to bring this up."

"All right, Buffy," Slowly. "I'll wait for your call tonight."

--

"Andrew." He hopped up off the sofa at her tone. "You've been spying on me for Giles." Buffy rushed back up to the apartment to get the pretty teal helmet for her pretty teal vespa. There was no way to walk to Wolfram and Hart and back to Trastevere in time for an eight thirty date.

"B-b-but Buffy. I was just trying to," he watched Buffy rush into her room and back to the door.

"Listen, Andrew. I had them send you here to be watcher in Rome because you were the only one who didn't turn on me in Sunnydale. I even let you stay in my home, and why don't you have a new apartment yet? Nevermind. Don't make me send you back. I'm together with the Immortal now. I fell for him by myself. No magic. I'm moving on, and I'm happy." Quick, staccato, and to the point.

She was already sliding down the stairs from apartment 34. That was as much as Andrew needed to know, anyway.

--

Scooting left out of the courtyard on her vespa, Buffy barely saw the idiot speeding through the narrow lane in a bright red convertible. Almost run down by a midlife crisis flaccid penis-substitute driven by some pathetic--

By some pathetic vampire? Her vamp sense tingled like crazy when that compensating-for-something mobile nearly clipped her.

What kind of stupid vampire drives a convertible?

If she is really getting back in the business after tonight, maybe she should take care of them. It would be a mercy slaying. And it sounds like they're pulling to a stop right in front of her building.

Spike would have always stopped to squeeze in a few more dustings before moving on. A little bonus violence was his favorite part of patrol. Except for that winter when she would ride him until he could barely even beg for more every night after the rounds, of course. Then his favorite part was--well, it was probably the kissing. The kissing was the only thing she could never suck the intimacy out of by doing it violently.

As Buffy races off across the Tiber to Wolfram and Hart, she wonders if Spike would be disappointed that she didn't stop.

Tags: ats, fic
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