Alternate Universe: Unexpected
Story Title: Can't Buy Me Love

Chapter Title:


Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting

Chapter Summary:


Will Spike pay the ultimate price for Buffy’s hesitancy to stop the fight? What more could possibly go wrong? You'll soon find out...


Time line:

January 2011



MacKenzie Verity Weckerly born October 9th, 2010

Edmond “Eddie” Giles Rosenberg-Maclay born March 11, 2010

Joshua "JJ" Harris was born on April 21st, 2004

The twins (Danielle Dawn, "Dani" and William Rupert, "Billy") were born on February 12th, 2004.

Annie was born on February 14th, 1999

Spike and Buffy  were married in  February 1999

Buffy was born January 19th, 1981

William/Spike was turned by Dru in 1880 1890; first came to Sunnydale in September of 1997


All the Potentials were endowed with full Slayer power in February 2003.

Buffy and Spike learned of the other dimensions and got the memories from the 'Rome' Universe in May, 2003.

The ‘Wish-World’ lasted from January 19th, 2005 to January, 16th 2010.



Music Referenced:

Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting, Elton John,


ScreenCaps courtesy of ScreenCap Paradise:



Thanks to 'epd4' for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes are mine because I can't stop fiddling ...

Rating / Warnings:

NC17. Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.

(next moments) Saturday, January 1st, 2010, 9:45pm at the fight arena:


Don’t underestimate me, Slayer …


I won’t.




Everything was moving in slow motion for Buffy – or maybe it was more like stop motion. Like when there’s a speck of dust or a smudge on the DVD you’re watching and the picture pixilates, goes silent and then freezes – you sigh, you wait, you curse … then the scene suddenly jumps ahead, comes back into focus, the little squares merge into something recognizable and the sound comes back on.  You missed whatever was said or done in those frozen moments … just gone; like sand through an hourglass, you can’t get it back, can’t rewind.  You just have to deal, keep going, and piece it together. 


Just as Buffy started to blow the dust over the barrier, time jumped forward on her like that. The slow-motion bubble she’d been in seemed to burst and she could again hear everyone around her screaming, feel the entire building shake and rumble with their feet stomping on the dark slate floor and their hands beating on the railing that surrounded the pit. The heavy, clear syrup that had been holding her back dropped away.  She looked up one second before spreading the magical dust and her breath caught in her throat.


The Pele demon was writhing on the floor in pain, holding his groin with one hand and his forehead with the other; Spike was frantically patting his hands against his scorched throat and chest, making sure the embers weren’t spreading.  How much fire did it take to dust a vampire, anyway?  Was 50% on fire enough, or did it have to be 100%?  He didn’t really know and had no desire to find out. 


“What happened!?” Buffy demanded of Faith, her eyes wide with confusion.


“The ol’ head-butt and knee to the balls defense,” she explained quickly, giving a demo of head butting someone while raising her knee up hard.


Buffy frowned. How did she miss that? Damn. Buffy carefully funneled the magical powder from her palm back into its satchel and turned her eyes back to the fight. As soon as Spike was sure he wasn’t on St. Peter’s short list, he crawled over to where the Pele demon was still recovering from the massive head butt and knee to the groin Spike had given him.  Spike’s one knee was wrecked, all the tendons had been completely wrenched from where they connected to the bone; no way would he be able to stand on it. If he was going to win, he had to do it now, while his opponent was down on his level and still seeing stars.


Spike was certain he’d lost everything only moments before, now he had a second chance, he couldn’t blow it; he knew he wouldn’t get a third.  The pain from the fire demon’s flaming fists around his throat had been excruciating … he was pretty sure most of the skin of his chest all the way to his chin would start sloughing off very soon.  He couldn’t see it, but it felt like the skin of a rotisserie chicken left in the oven too long; beyond roasted – blackened, burnt, charred. While the flames were licking his skin, Spike could feel the life draining out of him; his muscles had been strained beyond their capacity and the pain was more than anyone should have to endure … but he’d endured such things before. In hell.  And he had no desire to go back there anytime soon.


For the briefest of moments Spike had seen Dru’s face smiling wickedly at him in the flames as they danced in front of his eyes, as if she sensed how close he was to joining her in hell. The feeling of being killed again was eerily similar to his first death, it was a déjà vu moment that he really could’ve gone an eternity without experiencing a second time. Although Dru’s bite had started off with a blissful combination of pain and pleasure, it ended with a feeling of emptiness and an iciness that chilled him to his core. The feeling of his life force being drained from his body was one that he’d never forget; one that he thought he’d never actually feel again, but he had felt it only moments before.  Maybe it was because of his soul … maybe that was what was actually being driven from his mortal, or immortal, as it were, being.  He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he didn’t want to feel that again – preferably ever


As he struggled to get the Pele demon off him, the faces in the flames morphed from Dru’s features to Buffy’s … then Annie, and Dani, and Billy, Bess and MacKenzie were there, looking at him, silently pleading with him to not go. In that moment, he sent a message to Buffy – stop the fight. She was right, this wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth losing his family; it wasn’t worth breaking his promise to her that she wouldn’t have to walk alone; it wasn’t worth the heartbreak their children would endure. He’d been selfish, proud and arrogant – and he’d been wrong – foolish; she’d been right. This wasn’t the way.  But Buffy couldn’t hear his plea through the magical barrier and he couldn’t get any words out past the Pele’s grip. She didn’t know he no longer believed, she only knew that she promised to not underestimate him … and she hadn’t.


When he realized that Buffy couldn’t hear him, that she was still holding onto the belief that he could win, that she was keeping her promise to not underestimate him, Spike steeled himself and took strength from the faces that danced in the flames – the faces of his family, of the people that he loved more than anything in the world.  There was only one reason to fight now – it wasn’t for money, it was to get back to them; to not break his promises to any of them.  It was their love, their belief in him that made him believe again and gave his quivering and exhausted muscles the strength to break free of the Pele's grip and gave his heart the courage to fight on.


Now, the larger demon was foolishly facing away from Spike as he regained his bearings and fought the pain the vamp had unexpectedly inflicted on him. Perhaps the stars flashing in his field of vision were blinding him or maybe he thought Spike wouldn’t be able to get up, whatever the reason, Spike was thankful for it. The Pele’s fists were extinguished when Spike reached him. The fire demon was rubbing the large, purple knot on his forehead and holding his naughty bits, as he tried to get everything to stop hurting, get some air back into his lungs, and get back to his feet.  This was Spike’s chance … his last chance.


Spike lunged at the walking torch, wrapped his arms around the demon’s head and twisted with all his strength in an attempt to break his neck. Unfortunately, the skin from Spike's badly burnt hand and arm slipped off his flesh like a glove, leaving a slick, bloody appendage in its stead, and he lost his grip on the Pele's head. The larger demon struck out at Spike, jabbing a forceful elbow backwards at him and cracking a rib or two. Spike yelled out in pain, both from the jab and his skin peeling off his flesh, but pressed on - he couldn't let the demon get up, start moving again, or he'd be done for.


Spike quickly wrapped his arms back around the demon's head and neck and pressed with every ounce of energy he had left (and some he didn't know he had) against the larger man’s carotid artery. He didn't have enough grip to twist his head with his hands, but he hoped he had enough strength in his arms to stop the blood flow to the Pele's brain. He hoped the artery was in the same place as a human’s. It if wasn’t, that feeling of the life force draining out of him would soon return, Spike reckoned.


The demon struggled against the assault, knocking both men down onto their sides on the hard floor, but Spike hung on as if his life depended on it – which it did.  Spike could feel the demon’s blood pounding under the press of his forearm, but it wasn’t slowing like he’d expected; he didn’t have enough strength to stop the blood and deprive the Pele’s brain of oxygen. Suddenly, the demon’s fists burst into flames and he began to lift them over his head in an attempt to grab Spike around the back of the neck as the two continued to struggle on the blood-stained granite floor. 


Spike had only one chance left … something he hadn’t had to do in any of the 'No Holds Barred' fights. It was something his dark side loved too much and frankly, it frightened him. Drinking from Buffy infused his demon with power, but when he took a life with his fangs, the demon grew even stronger, even darker – it struggled to wrest control away from the man and left him longing for more blood, more violence, more mayhem. It was a battle Spike feared; a battle he wasn’t sure the man within could always win. Spike hadn’t taken a human life with his fangs in many, many years before their battle in the dungeon – hadn’t even used them with malicious intent in so long he could barely recall it – even Riley Finn hadn’t warranted it. But it was all he had left now.


He reminded himself that his opponent was not a man … not human, he was a demon, a demon set on destroying him, of taking him away from his family. He hoped that would be enough to rein the monster in when the deed was done, he wasn’t certain that it would be, but he had no choice now. Spike surrendered completely to his own demon and the monster within him leapt at the chance to run free, like a lion that had been kept in a small circus cage suddenly being turned loose on the open savannah. And run wild the demon did ... never pausing once or looking back.


His fangs sank savagely into the flesh of the Pele and the fire demon’s blood singed Spike’s tongue and lips and burned down his throat like it was made of molten lava. For a moment Spike actually thought the other demon might have holy water running in its veins, it burnt that badly … but it also tasted like glorious, rapturous blood – like human blood - like human blood full of adrenaline and fear. The demon's flesh tore like human flesh and the vampire reveled in it as it continued to rip deep gashes into the Pele's throat and suck noisily against the gaping wound.


Spike’s immediate reflex to the pain flowing down his gullet was to let go, but the vampire within had just begun to sample the free flowing, coppery, fear-laced hemoglobin and demanded more. The demon vehemently refused to release his victim now that it had been given the reins … how many years had it been since such deliriously wonderful destruction had been delivered at the hands and fangs of William the Bloody? Too long.


Spike roared in pain and shook his head violently, ripping the larger demon’s flesh, arteries, and tendons until the white of the Pele’s clavicle bone could be seen and blood spewed in geysers from the brutal, jagged wound.  Spike felt like he might burn up from the inside out, but his demon only fed on the pain, savored it, reveled in it. A feeling of utter bliss and power came over Spike, brought on by the bloodshed and of being free from all the boundaries William’s soul imposed on the killer within. For the first time in a very long time, the demon was completely in charge, and it had no intentions of squandering this opportunity to wreck havoc and spill blood. The lion had caught the gazelle and it would not relinquish its prize for love or money; this is what it was made to do, this was its calling.


The audience gasped as red blood spurted in all directions, covering the walls and floor of the pit as well as the two combatants.  It sizzled when it landed, like it was made of concentrated sulfuric acid, and wisps of smoke rose from every drop that painted the ring, as well as everywhere it touched Spike’s skin. The Pele continued to fight, trying to get free of Spike’s grip, still trying to reach him with his burning hands, but the rapid blood loss and indescribable pain proved too much for the larger fighter, and his flaming fists faded to embers then went cold and the Pele finally went completely still.


For a moment the audience fell completely silent, as if someone had simply hit the mute button on the world, while they watched the brutal and bloody end of the Pele’s life. The blood that had spilled from the fire demon continued to hiss and crackle as it burnt deep impressions in the granite floor and rock walls of the pit – but that wasn’t all that it was burning.  Buffy held her hand over her mouth in shock as she watched holes burn through Spike’s jeans; his chest and back were sizzling, frying like bacon on a hot griddle everywhere the blood covered him. The stench of burning flesh and fabric and hair rose up from the pit to the crowd and more than one diamond encrusted hand pressed against perfectly shaped, glistening lips to hold back the bile.


“Oh God…” Buffy muttered as she realized that Spike had won, but the other demon was still fighting, even beyond death, as its acidic, fiery blood began to ignite small fires all over her husband’s jeans and skin.


After what seemed a very long time, Spike finally gained some control over his inner demon and forced it to release his dead opponent. Spike pushed the Pele’s corpse away from him, then the realization hit that the stench of burning flesh was coming from his own body – not the Pele's.


Spike began patting the flames out that had burst into life on his clothing and skin, but there were more than he could extinguish and they were spreading quickly.  Whenever he moved and touched more of the Pele’s blood that now lay in puddles on the floor, more flames ignited and threatened to engulf him.


Buffy could hear the ring announcer, who was still standing safely outside the pit, begin to pronounce Spike the winner; it seemed almost comical since Spike was still fighting the blood of his downed adversary.  This time, there was no slow motion, no doubt. Buffy pulled the satchel back out of her pocket and quickly blew the black magical dust onto the barrier that stood between her and Spike.  There was a brief flash of blue light … Buffy didn’t know if that meant it worked or not, but she didn’t have time to even check first with her hand. She hurdled over the Plexiglas banister and prayed…


To her relief, she felt only a slight tension when she hit the barrier, but then she fell through, down twelve feet to the blood covered floor of the pit. Her relief was short lived, however.  As soon as her feet splashed in the Pele’s blood, flames burst up all around her, following the trajectory of the splattering blood like a burning fountain and covering her boots and the bottom of her jeans with flames.


Buffy screamed and tried to jump away from the fire, but it had already caught her, covering her lower legs. More smoke rose from her own clothing, even as Spike continued to try and get out of the mine field of blood that was covering most of the floor and stop the flames that were threatening to become an inferno and devour him.  Buffy leapt off to one side, trying to find a spot that was free of the demon blood, but her movement only fanned the flames that had now engulfed her jeans from the knees down and began to move up her legs.


She fought the panic that was rising within her as she coughed and choked on the fetid smoke and tried to pull the other satchel of magic dust from her pocket – the one designed to extinguish the flames.


Buffy struggled to get the small bag out of her pocket, her hands trembled uncontrollably while her flesh sizzled and she fought to breathe through the black smoke that was now filling the arena. She tried not to move, not to fan the flames further, but it was impossible to stop. Every step she took trying to escape the inferno seemed to simply add more blood, more fuel to the fire that was engulfing her.


She finally yanked the satchel free of her pocket and fumbled with the string that held it closed as the flames continued to build along with her panic.  There were lots of ways she could die, burning to death had never been high on her list of worries – until now.


She thought she heard Spike calling her name and she lifted her eyes momentarily from the confounded knot that was between her and salvation, but couldn’t see anything through the wall of billowing smoke.


Just as she dropped her gaze back to the leather pouch, she was knocked to the ground with a hard thud. Her head cracked against the rock wall and the satchel of magical extinguisher fell from her hand. For the briefest of moments she saw a huge flash of bright blue flame where the magical dust dropped into a pool of the Pele’s blood, then everything went completely black.




Saturday Night's Alright for Fightin', Elton John


It's getting late have you seen my mates
Ma tell me when the boys get here
It's seven o'clock and I want to rock
Want to get a belly full of beer

My old man's drunker than a barrel full of monkeys
And my old lady she don't care
My sister looks cute in her braces and boots
A handful of grease in her hair

Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in

Get about as oiled as a diesel train
Gonna set this dance alight
'Cause Saturday night's the night I like
Saturday night's alright, alright, alright

Well they're packed pretty tight in here tonight
I'm looking for a dolly who'll see me right
I may use a little muscle to get what I need
I may sink a little drink and shout out "She's with me!"

A couple of the sound that I really like
Are the sounds of a switchblade and a motorbike
I'm a juvenile product of the working class
Whose best friend floats in the bottom of a glass

Don't give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night's alright for fighting
Get a little action in



If you'd like to get noemail me here: Updates

Feedback: Email me feedback, I'd love to hear from you! passionate@passion4

Go back to: The Main Home Page     The 'Teach Your Children Well' Home Page