crossoverfic | Old Me Would Hate You; BTVS/Supernatural; Jo/Spike; PG-13

Title: Old Me Would Hate You
Author:

rosie1234
Fandom: BTVS/Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Ships: Jo/Spike
Spoilers: None
Summary: “Did the big bad wolf hurt in you in any way; he is oh-so good at hurting others. Can you stay with me, little red riding hood? I’m all alone in hell and I need someone to help fish me out.”
Note: Day 25! :D
For:

twistedshorts, galorechallenge, theechochorus
Prompt: Buffy Season Seven, Ghosts, love
Disclaimer: Not Mine.

“Did the big bad wolf hurt in you in any way; he is oh-so good at hurting others. Can you stay with me, little red riding hood? I’m all alone in hell and I need someone to help fish me out.”

I took hold of his open hands, remembering a time when that mind of his was intact and still holding on to me like I would disappear; guiding him hoping my gentle touch would help him in some way.

“You’ve never hurt me, Spike, and I don’t believe you ever will.”

Rather than spending time driving me away he had been the one to pull me close and save me from the monsters like himself with a heavy smirk on his lips.

(and mine was right alongside it, matching)

“Sweet always so damn sweet, while I’m bitter, Joanna, so damn bitter.”

Before this, before that wonderfully beautiful soul got put back where it belonged and turned his mind upside down, I had never left his side and I was not about to leave him anytime soon.

(instead of a stake ready to kill a monster my hand was holding the monsters hand ready to protect him until the end of days)

“I think you mean bittersweet, Spike, I would not still be here holding your hand if you were bitter.”

If any of his words were the truth, which wasn’t so because he’s the last person who would ever hurt me (men not undead have already come and done that for him), he would already be dust and not someone with a tight grip on my heart.

(and now because of that lovely soul of his it was easier keeping him that way)

“Too good for the monster, Joanna should be killing me, making me turn to dust instead of kissing. Do you mean those pretty words?”

When he asked if every word coming out of mouth was the truth he grabbed on to my hands and I got a good look at those now soul filled eyes and knowing that I meant every damn one.

“Every last one, and I could never kill you, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just love you too damn much.”

The old me, who thought hunting was her world and that nothing else matter (expect one other hunter), could never see herself telling one of the monsters she hunted how much she loved him.

But the new me that fell into love with this fanged beast because of that wicked smile and witty banter said it without heisting even a second.

“Spike, William the bloody, feels the same he just doesn’t say it, but he still feels in it his unbeating heart.”