Spanking the Slayer
by Red
Patrol
[reviews]
It was quiet in Sunnydale. The Slayer didn't want quiet. Not tonight, not at the moment. For once, Buffy found herself actually praying for a vampire, or demon, or cat stuck up in a tree. Anything to break the painfully tense silence that danced in the air as she and Willow patrolled.
Normally, she would have appreciated the lack of noise. How many nights had she found herself up to her neck in vamps, praying for a nice, slow, easy, quiet patrol? And yet, here she was, nice, slow, easy and quiet, and ready to pounce on a puppy if it meant taking her attention away from the redhead walking by her side.
Willow scanned the area around them. Where were the big nasties when you needed them? Well, maybe not big, but a few tiny, weak ones would do. Anything to get her mind off of Buffy. Buffy. Buffy. Darn Anya! If the girl only knew what she had been saying. How could she know? No one knew. Well, except for Spike.
She smiled as she remembered their conversation from earlier. He was incredible. He understood the whole thing better than she did. And it didn't make him mad. In fact, he encouraged it! He actually told her that Buffy wanted her to, well, you know. Oh, you can fantasize about it, but you can't say it? What is this, Red, fifth grade? Great, now I'm calling myself Red, in my head. Hey, poet much? Listen to me, I am so in ramble mode. Help needed here. Danger Will Rosenberg! Danger!
What was that? Buffy turned around, her hazel eyes surveying the dark. Wonderful, it's a rat. Nice work, oh chosen one. Man, did I just call myself, oh chosen one? What is wrong with me? You wanna be spanked by your best friend, duh. That was a rhetorical question. And? And, shut up. Don't wanna. Don't care. Look at her, those hands, the way they're holding onto that stake. She's got a nice grip there, firm. Shut up. Make me. Oh, I will. You do realize that you are having an argument with yourself, in your head, right?
Here, vampy, vampy. K, it MIGHT work if I actually said it out loud. What time is it? Who says time flies? Oh, right, when you're having fun. It's not that helping patrol isn't fun, cause it is. It's a big bucket of fun. Yay patrol! And there's the whole, being with Buffy thing, which is always a good. Well, except when drinking cursed beer is involved, then it's less fun and more, being sniffed and watching bad sitcoms. Still, Buffy is Buffy and even caved out, she's got the greatest as- Bad Willow! Bad, bad, bad Willow! Now who needs to be spanked? Hmm, that's a new concept.
I am not continuing with this conversation. Will is my best friend and best friends don't do that. I am not. Look, I can say it if I want to, I just don't want to. I thought I told you to shut up? Fine, spank, feel better? No, I will not look at her hands. No, absolutely not! There will be no looking. Looking, bad, ignoring, what I am doing. I'm not saying that she doesn't have nice hands, because she does. You should see the way they work a keyboard, gracefully smooth. It's like watching an artist at work, those long, perfect fingers dancing ever so lightly over the keys. She's so delicate. Yes, I am aware. I have seen her stake a vamp or two, ya know. Those hands can be tough, strong, firm.
Don't look at Buffy. Don't look at Buffy. Don't look at Buffy's butt. You're looking! Stop that! Get a grip, Will. Oh, shouldn't have said that. Bad visual place. K, not BAD, but not where I should be. I have no business anywhere near my best friend's bum. That means you too, eyes of mine. Focus. You're supposed to be watching out for evil, and Buffy's sweet, little bottom is definitely not evil. Now, your desire to spank that sweet little bottom, that is evil. Deliciously evil.
Just look at the ground, Buffy. Eyes on the pavement. That's a good girl. You can't have naughty thoughts when you're staring at cement. Hey, is that a five dollar bill?
Oh my gosh, what is she doing? She shouldn't do that. She's bending over. Oh, not good. So not good. So very the good.