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HARRIS WEDDING RECEPTION
Buffy knows she can't keep paying Spike this kind of attention-not after ending things so decisively earlier this week in his crypt, but she's finding it unexpectedly difficult to follow her own rules. Spinning circles around the dance floor with his goth-girl date, Spike's eyes find Buffy's again and again. Even from her spot at the reception table, Buffy can see his dancing partner growing irritated.
Next to her Xander sighs, sounding half content, half relieved. Buffy attributes this to Xander surviving the wedding and arriving on the other side in one piece: a married man. He's now watching Spike's unsubtle glances at Buffy in a thoughtful silence that is too good to last.
"It's funny," her friend remarks-because of course he can't just let it rest. "You'd think Spike would've learned his lesson after the first time he failed to make you jealous by bringing some other chick around." Xander shakes his head.
"He's not hurting anything," Buffy says without looking away from Spike's slow dancing form. Her hands twist and knot in her lap, scrunching the bottle green monstrosity of a dress.
Xander sips from his drink, eyes trailing to his bride across the room. Buffy follows his gaze. The ex-demon's smile can't possibly get any bigger, though there's a hint of proprietary smugness to it that is pure Anya. Who knows what she's sharing with her gaggle of demonista cohorts? The rosy flush in her cheeks and overall brightness of her makes Buffy avert her eyes away like she'd faced the sun for too long.
Happiness. How searing thou art.
"Weirdly enough...I actually feel bad for him," Xander continues. "I wish he could just move on."
Buffy rolls her eyes to Xander, a knowing smile cutting her mouth into a sharp line.
"Well, yeah. I've always wanted him to move on. But that's because the Buffster deserves better-goes without saying. What I mean is, I kind of want the sorry bastard to move on for, uh, himself." Xander tugs his bowtie looser.
He looks like such an adult now, her Xander. It hits Buffy again, how much they've all changed since high school. If she glances at him from the corner of her eye, she's sitting by a lanky teen slouching around in baggy, mismatched clothes, taking a crack at anyone's expense wearing a too-big grin to follow up his snark.
Buffy tilts her head another inch and he's Xander of the now-all smart, black rental suit and strong carpenter's hands, shadows in his eyes, and warmth in his smile when he sees her peering at him.
"I know, I know. Call me crazy-"
"Loudly and often," Buffy agrees.
"-for even giving a shit, but it's not even pathetic anymore. This is painful. Like, man to de-man painful. I don't get why he tortures himself like this. He could leave town and find another girl."
Buffy's quick to pinpoint Spike's bleached hair in the crowd and relaxes her clenched fists. Still there.
"But instead he hangs around, waiting for something that's never going to happen. How he can just wait...indefinitely, without hope is beyond me. It's not like he's ever gotten anything more than a resounding ew out of you-"
Drink. Didn't she have a drink here somewhere?
"-but he keeps trying like he's got a chance in hell." Xander shrugs, loose from whiskey wedding cheer. "I guess it just hit me today. Spike's the oldest one here, but we're the ones moving on without him. Or, I don't know, past him."
Spike's date slips out of his arms and disappears into the crowd. Buffy straightens in her chair. Xander keeps rambling on in that way that good-natured drunken people do, convinced he has the measure of the universe and everyone in it.
She can't see Spike anymore. "Don't worry about that tonight, Xander. Let's all just enjoy each other. More with the happy, please."
Xander shrugs in what looks like approval, attention already caught elsewhere, a dazed smile curling his mouth. The look of a guy who still can't believe his life is turning out so well.
Buffy leaves him at the table and begins winding her way through the crowded dance floor. Demon guests part before her, a rainbow display of eyes and faces wary to the Slayer's position at all times. The human guests are harder to get around.
"Excuse me," she says again. A guy who looks to be a cousin of Xander's is doing some horrible bump and grind with a girl with a scaly neck. He seems too drunk to notice anything off about his dance partner. Buffy squeezes past and pops to her tiptoes, trying to find Spike.
A hand lands on her shoulder and Buffy spins around.
It's Willow, flushed and happy next to Tara. Buffy breathes evenly, trying to calm her stupidly accelerated heartbeat.
Buffy may have ended things with Spike, but her body doesn't seem to realize that. Excitement still fills her at even the thought of him.
"Hey, Buffy. Pretty great night, isn't it?" Willow sounds utterly content. Buffy watches Tara bump her hip into Willow's. The pair exchange a schmoopy look. At least these two seem to be reconciling.
"Looking for one of us?" Willow continues. "I've barely danced with you yet."
"No, uh..." Buffy clears her throat. "Have you seen Spike? He was just here."
Tara's eyes clear and she shoots Buffy a curious, probing look.
Uh oh. Deflect! "I need to talk to him about something. Work related! You know, a slay-related something."
A line wrinkles Will's brow. "Trouble?" she asks, seriousness filling her voice.
"Nothing urgent," Buffy says, not sure where's she's going with her lie. "I just need to go over some info with Spike before patrol tomorrow."
Willow relaxes again, even as Tara's eyes grow more knowing and sympathetic. Buffy forces herself to focus on only Willow.
"Buffy, if it's not urgent, take the night off! Dance, celebrate." Will shakes her hips. "Xander's married! What a day, you know? Take it in."
Buffy shifts. "I am, I just, since he's already here-"
"Actually, I think Spike left with his date. He's taking the night off, you can too. Oh! By the way, I think I saw Richard over at the bar earlier. Have you guys had a chance to talk yet?"
Buffy barely hears the rest of what Willow's saying about mind-numbingly normal Richard. All she can think about is Spike and his lame excuse for a date. Leaving. Together.
"C-can you get me a drink?" Tara cuts in.
Willow jerks in surprise, then eagerly nods. "Oh course! Same thing as before? I'll be right back. Hold that thought!" Willow says over her shoulder as she twists her way through the throng.
Tara stares at Buffy and Buffy stares at the floor.
"Do...do you want to-"
"He went home with her," Buffy blurts. She can hear the dismay and betrayal in her own voice. "Which is obviously fine," she tries to cover up, wide eyes darting to Tara. "He's unattached. It's not my business. If he wants to bring a date to a wedding and then leave with his date, I mean, that's how it goes-"
With a gentle hand to Buffy's elbow, Tara leads them off the dance floor. "Can I ask what happened?" Tara asks softly. They are by the far wall of the reception hall. No one is near enough to hear their conversation.
Buffy wraps her arms around her midsection. "We...what we were doing was hurting both of us. I ended things. I needed to." Eyes burning, Buffy glances to the side so she doesn't have to face Tara-Tara who knows her shameful secrets. "I still want him. I hate seeing him with someone else. How messed up is that? Before the wedding, we kind of joked about him trying to make me jealous...not really in the haha funny way…"
"And you are. Jealous." Tara doesn't sound the tiniest bit judgemental.
"Yes." The word feels alive on her tongue, like admitting it gives birth to the idea. Buffy swallows, wanting to take it back.
"Breakups are hard," Tara says.
"We were never together."
Tara inhales shakily and looks over to where Willow is waiting for more drinks across the room. "But you had something. Enough of a something to end it."
The truth of this settles between the two women.
"I just can't believe after everything, he's gonna have a one-night stand with some random girl." Buffy's on a roll now. Such a relief to have a listening ear. "I thought he'd...I thought it would take longer. For him to...but I just ended things last week. How can he-" her throat closes, mercifully cutting off her broken speech.
Tara regards her. "Buffy, you've been in a really hard place. You seem like you're doing so much better than earlier this year."
"...I am," Buffy says, tasting the truth of it.
"Maybe this thing you had with Spike was in a bad place, too. With Willow-" Tara breaks off. "Well, a person's headspace matters in a relationship; it affects everything so deeply. I can speak from experience, from the other side of that."
Gut twisting, Buffy meets Tara's eyes. "You guys are okay? After everything that happened?"
"Willow's doing better, so we're doing better. We're working on us." Tara shrugs. "Who knows? I love her, she loves me. Maybe we'll be okay after all."
"I hope so," Buffy says sincerely. Willow's red hair bobs through the crowd, making her way back to them. "But it's different with Spike and me. We can't be together, even if we loved each other..and I can't. Love him."
"Only the two of you can decide what's best for you guys," Tara says. "Neither of you seem happy with the way things are. I guess I just wanted to say...whatever happens, I hope that you won't worry about everyone else so much. And good luck." Tara squeezes her hand suddenly, then moves away, intercepting Willow and rescuing Buffy from having to pull herself together in front of her estranged best friend.
Buffy stays by the wall for a long time, thinking over Tara's words.
Buffy wishes she never agreed to help clean up after the reception. The hours drag by. She dances only a little, avoids Richard at all costs, and spends a lot of time trying to keep her mind off of the things Spike could be doing with goth-girl. She has a few fun, slap-happy conversations with each of her friends by the end of the night, but for the most part she sits back and observes. She picks a good spot at a central table and turns her chair towards the excitement, toe tapping out the beat of the music.
At some point, Xander and Anya leave together in a joyous fanfare. Tara and Willow follow soon after. Dawn's off in the corner, heels kicked off, playing some game with a few other teens. The late hour doesn't bother them and their laughter fills the room.
Warmth suffuses Buffy's limbs as she listens to her sister have fun with kids her own age. No danger, no stress, no demons to fight. She's glad Dawn is able to make good memories for once.
Closer inspection reveals that the group Dawn is hanging out with is actually a mix of human and demon teenagers. Buffy's smile lessens but doesn't fall away completely.
Nothing's simple anymore.
"Saving your last dance for anyone?"
Buffy goes very still. "No. Didn't feel like dancing tonight."
A familiar body settles next to her, long legs stretching out before him. "That's a pity. You've got the look of a girl who'd love to dance."
Buffy tilts chin to the side. "You came back."
Spike, sans leather duster, sinks back in his chair. "Always, Buffy."
The warmth returns, tingling along her nerve endings, making her feel so unfairly alive. "Must've been a quickie."
A beat. Then Spike's eyes round and his mouth parts. "You mean me and-? You are jealous."
He just sounds surprised. There's no triumph in it. Buffy doesn't deny his claim or press her accusation. She waits him out, wishing the floor would swallow her up.
"Bringing her here was a mistake. I wasn't even fooling myself." Spike looks tired and defeated, as he often does these days. His blue eyes hold hers. "You're it for me, Slayer. Is that what you want to hear? I just walked her home, love. Then walked some more. Feet brought me back to you. Didn't plan on it."
Something eases in Buffy's chest. "Walking, huh. All that walking and now you want to dance."
The corner of Spike's mouth lifts. "I have the stamina for both."
Doesn't she know it. He looks like he wants to add to the innuendo, but can't seem to bring himself to it. Buffy drops her eyes. The awkwardness is new. This gap between them.
She doesn't like it.
"We're going on midnight, people, so have one more drink to Xander and Anya then grab your honey and enjoy the last dance."
The music changes. Slow and sweet. Buffy speaks to Spike's knee. "Earlier, you said I looked happy."
Spike shifts next to her. "You do. It suits you."
"Happy hurts," Buffy says, almost to herself. "But it's a good hurt." She regards him, a solid presence at her side.
Spike's hunched low in his chair, chin dipped to his chest almost defensively. Waiting for her to hurt him.
No more.
"My head's in a good place. Your heart's in a good place," Buffy continues.
His face scrunches. "What are you saying?"
She takes his hand. He jumps a little in surprise before his fingers curl around hers. Spike's eyes flash to her face.
Buffy's smile stretches, tender and new, in the light of his hope. "I'm saying...let's get out there. This is our time to dance."