Date: December 17, 2010
Fandom: BtVS
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except a sort of half-song thing I wrote to go with this scene.
Timeline: Season 2, Post-Innocence.
She danced through the crowd with seemingly effortless grace. Her body wove in and out on auto pilot, not truly aware of what she was doing. Tonight wasn't about knowing. Tonight was about forgetting. Forgetting her messed up life and pretending she was just a girl.
Just an underage girl in a bar that actually carded, thus ensuring that forgetting was going to take a little more effort than she'd initially thought.
Buffy bit her lip sharply, attempting to get her mind off the current train, which was headed straight for Weepy-Girl. And Buffy had been crying quite enough lately.
Frustrated with herself, she shook her head, thoughts of Angelus and the Angel he'd once been refusing to dissipate.
Moving to the music and ignoring the shudder-inspiring looks she was receiving from some of the men, she turned and, not watching where she was going, bumped into a black clad chest.
"Oh, I'm sor-"
"Watch y'self, luv-"
She looked up into blue eyes…
…And slumped.
"Spike."
His entire demeanor seemed to deflate. "Slayer."
She sighed heavily and gave a humorless chuckle. "Great. Just great."
They stood there silently for a minute.
"Look, I really don't feel like-"
"Can we not do this right-?"
Incredulously, they stared at each other for a second. Then, Spike's lips twisted a little into a slight grin.
"Ehhh, so that's it then."
She nodded. He glanced away.
Abruptly, she asked, "What are you doing here?" A thought occurred to her. "Oh, gosh, you're not eating people are you?"
He snorted and held up a bottle. "Yeah, no. Not right now. Right now, I'm attempting to get good an' proper sloshed."
She nodded and raised her eyebrows. "Uh-huh. And how's that workin' out for ya?"
He put on a sulk. "Darn vampire constitution."
She almost grinned. "Sucks to be you."
"Well, yeah, duh."
Her giggle was slightly hysterical, but it was a giggle. Spike raised an eyebrow.
"So… what 'xactly are you doing here?"
She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "Well, I would be getting 'sloshed' as you call it, if I actually felt up to charming guys into buying me drinks with my non-existent smile."
He studied her for a bit, then threw her for a loop when he grasped her arm. "Ehh, 'sall right, pet. You're doin' jus' fine with that pout of yours."
Before she could protest, he was dragging her gently through the crowd and up to the bar. Signaling the bartender, he held up two fingers. Ignoring the mildly disapproving look he got, he handed one of the glasses to Buffy. She took it and followed him back to a table in the center of the room, feeling slightly surreal at the fact that she was having a drink with an evil vampire that usually wanted to kill her.
"Stop doin' that."
She jerked her head around to meet his slightly irritated gaze. "What?"
"The twitchy, looking around thing. 'S bloody disturbing. I keep thinkin' I'm gonna have to jump up an' fight or something, an' I gotta tell ya, not really feelin' up to it."
She rolled her shoulders. "Sorry. It's just…"
His eyes were knowing. "Angelus."
She sighed, wondered how he knew, decided that that was a stupid question, and didn't ask. "Yeah."
He leaned back in his chair and lit up a cigarette. He sucked in silently for a second, then released the breath. Buffy watched, inexplicably fascinated by the smoke rising. He startled her when he spoke again.
"Not that it'll help, but I know for a fact that he ain't 'ere."
"Really?How?"
Suddenly seeming uncomfortable, he shrugged. "Uh, well. 'S not really… it's not important-"
"What?"
"Really, it's not-"
"Spike."
His name brought him up short. He sighed in defeat.
"He's with Dru."
She froze, and she must have begun hyperventilating because Spike reached out and grabbed her arms, shaking her slightly.
"Slayer! Slayer! See, this is why I didn't want to tell you."
"No! No, I'm… I'm alright. Stop, Spike, I'm… I'm alright."
He released her almost reluctantly. "Sheesh, luv, give me a bleedin' heart attack!"
She grinned in spite of herself. "Very funny."
He gave her a dry look. "Wasn't it?"
She ran her fingers through her hair. "It's not like it's shocking. I mean, he sired Dru right? They're like… family?"
He rolled his eyes. "Uh, yeah, bu-"
"Wait." She stopped him cold. "You said he was with Drusilla?"
"Ye-es…"
"Did you mean like, with her with her?"
Sighing and attempting to hide the pain that fact gave him, he nodded. If she laughs, truce is over, he thought. I can't take it tonight. Not from her. Not after he rubbed it in my face…
He hoped she wouldn't cry either. He'd probably get some sort of insane urge to comfort her or something. But, as her eyes widened and the full implication of his words set in, he wasn't too hopeful of that.
When she finally spoke though, he wasn't expecting the vehemence of her outburst. Or what burst out.
"That… witch!"
His head snapped up. "What?"
She was fuming. "I mean, what the heck! She- you… You love her! You love her, and take care of her for what now? Hundred plus years? And she has the nerve, the nerve, to just… my gosh!"
His mouth was hanging open. The things she was saying hurt, simply because they were true, but she wasn't saying them to hurt. Rather, she was righteously indignant on his behalf, furious because the love of his unlife had decided that she didn't return the sentiment. This was truly the weirdest night he could remember in a long time. And he wasn't even drunk.
"Uh, I- pet, it's-"
She bulldozed over his half-hearted attempt at pacification and continued to work herself up.
"And, how could she? Seriously, do the past one hundred years mean nothing to her? After all this time of being yours she-"
This time, he interrupted. "Was never mine, luv."
"What?"
"Drusilla. She was never mine. Not really. I got to take care of her and play lover whenever Angelus was too busy, or while he had his soul, but she's always been his. Always. Trust me, the whole 'Hooray-Daddy's-back-let's-drop-Spike-like-a-hot-poker' thing isn't really new to me."
She watched him with eyes too wise for her age. "It still hurts though, doesn't it?"
Cursing his awful poker-face, he took a swig from the bottle.
Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his arm. "Spike, it's okay to feel hurt."
"Who are you? My bloody psychiatrist?"
"Hey, look, I-" she cut off. "You have a psychiatrist?"
He smirked. "No, you silly chit. But," his look was thoughtful. "I think I might've eaten one once."
"And shockingly, that statement doesn't actually make me want to stake you."
"It's the alcohol."
"I've taken two sips."
"You're a lightweight."
"Hey!"
"I get it," she said suddenly.
He shot her a quizzical glance. "Get…?"
She shrugged shyly. "The whole- Angelus, and Dru, and… stuff. I… I understand."
He was quiet. She started talking a little faster, hesitating less.
"I mean, I know a year and a half seems pretty light in comparison to a century together, but… I think I kinda know what you're feeling. I think I'm feeling the same way."
He cocked his head. "Yeah? Do you feel like the person you love walked all over you and out with hardly a backward glance? Like, suddenly, you aren't important, and the change is just drastic enough to make you wonder if you ever were? Do you feel oddly worthless, even though you know that you're not?"
His voice was soft, not bitter, not forgiving. She took a deep breath. "Yeah. That's pretty much how I feel."
His head was bowed. And he kept it bent as he finally admitted to what they both knew. He was barely whispering. "It hurts."
She felt a flood of empathy and another disconcerting rush of anger- towards Drusilla. Spike looked so lost. His love in the arms of another, his only companion the likewise jilted Slayer. Gah, could this night get any weirder? Well…
A sudden, unnecessary, ragged intake of air touched her. She sighed softly, her gaze wandering over this evil vampire who, on a better day, would so be dust now. He looked… well, quite frankly, he looked like a man who'd been cheated on by the woman he still loves. Dru's an idiot. He loves her so much, and she doesn't even care! She doesn't even know what she has. I mean, yeah, he's evil. But anyone who loves someone this much has to have something good about him!
"She's a fool," Buffy stated softly. Spike's head came up.
"What?"
She stood.
"Any woman," she said firmly. "Who would choose Angelus over you…" she took his hand, "…Is a fool."
Feeling her heart ache just the tiniest bit for him at the shock and disbelief in his eyes, she pulled him to his feet and led him, unresisting, to the floor.
"Dance with me, Spike. To actual for tonight."
Blue to rival a July sky swept over her. Slowly, he nodded, and she sighed in relief, not sure what she would have done if he'd shoved her away. His arms slid around her waist like they were supposed to. Her arms draped around his neck in a way that felt scarily natural. He was closer to her height than Angel.
They swayed for a minute, getting used to touching each other and not meaning to kill. As the song changed, they moved almost as one, their hands meeting and clasping as if planned. And then they danced. Not fast, not slow. Just danced. He twirled her out, then in. She spun. He grinned.
As the song ended, he dipped her, surprising both Buffy and himself when a genuine laugh slipped out. They stilled, standing encircled in each other's arms on the dance floor.
Buffy dropped her eyes shyly. The mood was gone. The dance had accomplished its purpose. And now, she should really be going.
"I- I should…"
"Buffy…"
Not 'Slayer.' Buffy. He tilted her chin up with gentle fingers.
She was almost expecting it when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was nothing that should be and everything that could have been.
"If you'd been mine," he whispered, his voice husky. "Soul or no soul, change or no change… If you'd been mine… I would never have given you up."
She knew her face must mirror his from earlier, because he smiled a little, then tapped her on the nose.
"I'll see you 'round, Slayer."
The corner of her mouth tilted up into a half smile. "Goodnight, Spike."
He disappeared into the shadows, actually leaving the bar. He found he wasn't in need of alcoholic imbibing anymore.
She went home. Snuck in her window. Put on pajamas and brushed her teeth. Climbed in bed.
She dreamed of blue eyes.
A/N: This is the first Buffy fic I've posted. It's the first installment in a three part series of one-shots featuring a pre-chip Spike interacting with Buffy in a decidedly non-hostile way.