Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to the God Almighty, Joss Whedon. The
title I nicked from one of my favourite songs, so that doesn't belong to me
either.
Distribution: If you want it, please take it. Just tell me where it's going.
Summary: There's nothing wrong with breaking a few rules, right? That's what Buffy thinks, until a trip to a club gets her more than she bargained for. Now she's in deep water - she's being hunted and she's powerless to stop it. There's one person who can help her - Spike.
Timeline: Season 5, between Into the Woods and Checkpoint. For the sake of the story, lets pretend Glory's gone on holiday for a bit, okay?
A/N: I've finally got myself moving after finishing Surfing With Spike, and decided to write a new fic. I've had this idea floating around for a while now, so please read and review to tell me what you think. This is a challenge based fic, and I'll be posting the challenge at the end once I've finished.
**********
"You're kidding me!"
Buffy sat on her bed, wide-eyed as Willow grinned at her.
"Nope!"
"So you're serious? Evanescence are really coming to Sunnydale?"
"Yep! They're stopping here for a gig before they go to LA."
Buffy squealed. This was like a dream come true. Her favourite band in the whole world, for this month at least, were coming to Sunnydale.
"Don't get your hopes up, though. You're not going to see them."
"Why not?" Buffy's eyebrows knitted together as she frowned at her friend. Willow knew how much she loved Evanescence. There was nothing that could stop her getting to their show.
"They're performing at the Fish Tank."
"So?"
"Buffy," Willow said slowly, trying to make her understand, "The Fish Tank is an over 21 bar. There's no way you're getting in there."
Buffy opened her mouth to retaliate, then closed it just as quickly. Willow was right. The Fish Tank was a really rank bar on the edge of town, near the docks. She'd known lots of under-21's that had been in, but it was a tough, slutty crowd that went through that door without an ID, and that definitely wasn't her.
After a moment, she said, "Why did you even bother telling me, then?"
"Because I know you," Willow said. "Now you know, you're gonna try everything you can to get in, and you'll probably fail miserably, but at least you know. If I hadn't told you, you'd have found out anyway, and then yelled at me for not telling you." Willow smiled slightly as she finished, a smile which Buffy returned.
*Willow's right,* she thought. *I have to see that band, if it's the last thing I do. And if that means breaking a few rules, so be it.*
********
Spike sat sprawled out on his chair, sipping a beer as he watched TV. Not that there was anything good on. There never was these days. He was half considering going out to fight a few demons, perhaps 'accidentally' bumping into Buffy so that they could patrol together, when he sensed someone outside. It only took him a moment to realise it was Buffy.
He scrambled to his feet as he heard his front door crash open, and the Slayer stalked inside.
"I need your help, Spike."
"Well, that's nice," Spike taunted. "You come barging in here, uninvited, nearly smash my front door up, then you ask me for help?!"
"Don't play games with me, Spike," Buffy said determinedly, glaring at him as she marched closer. "I need your help, and if you're not gonna give it to me, I'll just stake you and go."
Spike raised his eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Buffy was acting extra crabby, which meant something had really rattled her. He loved seeing her like this, totally stressed out, her blood pumping from annoyance that she had to ask him to help her. He considered the situation for a moment. If he helped her, he might get to see her for a few hours, where as if he refused, he probably wouldn't be seeing much of anything.
Eventually, he said, "Fine, luv. What's your problem?"
Buffy crept closer to him, so that they were mere inches apart, and whispered, "I need help getting into an over-21 bar."
Spike frowned for a moment, trying to decide whether he'd heard her correctly. Then, he burst out laughing.
"That's the Slayer's big problem? The fact that she's too young to go to the pub?"
"It's not that!" Buffy said hotly. "There's a rock band that's playing that I really want to see, but they're only going to the one place I can't get into. I've tried everything, but I can't think of a way to see them, so I thought, you've broken loads of laws in your time. You must know someone who could help."
Buffy bit her lip, waiting for his answer. She felt stupid coming to him for help like this, but he was the only person she could think of. She should've known that a fiend like that would just laugh her away. It had been a stupid idea to come.
She raised her glance to look at him, and noticed that instead of the mocking grin that had been on his face a moment earlier, there was now a look of concentration, as if he was actually thinking it over.
An idea came to Buffy, and, hoping that his answer wouldn't be too twisted and perverted, said, "If you help I'll reward you. You can have whatever you want."
Spike thought that over. She'd give him *anything* he wanted? Well, he could certainly think of a few things she could do for him, or to him, but he really doubted that the Slayer was that desperate for help. If he suggested those things she'd stake him, no doubt about it. She'd expected him to ask for cash or blood, he knew it, but he didn't need any of those things at the moment. Then he had an idea. She was going to a rock concert. So maybe. . .
"Fine," Spike said. "I'll help. But I want to come with you to the concert." He waited for Buffy's reaction, and was glad to see she didn't look angry, just confused.
"What? You want to come with me?"
Encouraged by the fact that she hadn't instantly said no, he added, "That's not all though. You have to buy my ticket, AND my drinks, AND promise not to ditch me or stake me. In return, I'll tell you what you need to do."
Buffy chewed it over in her mind for a moment, then said, "Deal."
*******
Buffy eyed the alley Spike had just led her into warily, watching the shadows for any sign of supernatural activity.
"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked nervously. "It's a bit. . ."
"Shady? Dangerous? What did you expect, a pretty little cottage? This guy is a serious warlock, luv. He deals in magicks of the illegal sort, so his hideout isn't exactly gonna be posh."
"Illegal? This guy does dark magick? Why did you bring me to a guy like that? He can't help me." She turned to go, but felt a strong hand on her shoulder, turning her back.
"That's not what I said now, luv, was it? I meant illegal as in 'against the law.' As in, spells to make yourself invisible for bank robberies, or superstrong if you want to murder someone, or, in your case, get yourself a fake ID which never fails."
"Fine. Where is it?"
"Here." Spike gestured towards the blank wall in front of her.
"What? That's just a wall."
"Oh, come on." Spike grabbed her arm, and pushed her towards the brick. She braced herself for the impact, but it didn't come. Looking around, she realised that instead of in the street, they were now both standing in a dark hallway, with a couple of mismatched chairs and tables arranged about the place.
"What. . . what just happened?"
Spike rolled his eyes, and flopped down in the nearest chair. "Don't you know anything, luv? A guy who deals with this sort of stuff isn't going to put out a sign for the world to see. He hides his office, and only demons who need his services can find it."
"Never heard of that before," Buffy said, sitting down in the other chair, and started to root through the magazines piled up on the table.
"Don't you read, Slayer? It's in bloody Harry Potter! Where do you think that JK chick got the idea from?"
Buffy let out a giggle. "*You've* read Harry Potter?"
Spike avoided her eyes. "Dawn made me read it."
"Right," Buffy said sarcastically. "I believe you." She paused for a moment, then said, "How long is this guy gonna be, anyway?"
"Not long, I suppose," a soft voice said. Buffy jumped, and looked around. There was no-one there.
"Oh, don't try to find me, because you won't. I'm watching you from my office. I apologise for not speaking to you sooner, but I had to check you weren't hostile. I must say, it's not often I've served Slayers, and one accompanied by a vampire. . . now there's a rare event." The voice paused for a moment. "No matter. Please, come into my office, and we can talk more."
Buffy was wondering how she was supposed to enter his office, as there were no doors out of the lobby, when one suddenly materialised in front of her eyes. Slightly put out, but trying not to show it, she got to her feet and headed purposefully towards it. She'd only gone a few steps when Spike caught her arm.
"Be careful what you say to this guy," Spike whispered in her ear. "He may look friendly, but that's only because of his power. He can make himself appear however he wishes, and for customers he takes the guise he thinks they'll find the most appealing. Don't tell him any more information than necessary, and, whatever you do, don't touch him." He said all this very quickly, then straightened up and headed through the door. Wondering what the hell he was on about, she followed him inside.
The office was completely the opposite of what she had expected. There was a comfy sofa at one end of the room, where Spike was already sat, and at the other was a desk covered in papers, and one of the most attractive men Buffy had ever seen.
He had deep soulful eyes, the sort that you could become lost in forever, and hair which flopped softly around his eyes, giving him a kind, welcoming look. His smile was mild and mysterious, and her heart melted when she saw him. She couldn't have said what colour his hair or eyes actually were, or what clothes he was wearing, or even how tall he was, but she felt he was a beautiful person who she could trust with all her secrets. Such was the nature of his spell.
"So, how may I help you?"
She had thought this part would be hard, but the words flowed from her mouth so easily it was incredible. "I need a fake ID to go to an over - 21 club. I heard you could help."
"I can indeed," he said, smiling. "I just need a few of your details." He pulled some paper and a pen off his desk, then asked, "What's your full name."
"Buffy Anne Summers."
"And how old are you currently, Miss Summers?"
"19."
"And how long have you been a Slayer?"
"Since I was 15."
"So, you must be a particularly powerful Slayer, to have lasted so long."
Spike got to his feet. "I don't see why that is important!"
"I need to know everything about her, Sir, to make sure that my ID is perfectly fitted to her. Now, Miss Summers, what is your current occupation?"
*******
Half an hour had passed, with the warlock constantly asking questions, none of which seemed important to Spike, before the data-collecting was complete.
"Well, Miss Summers, I think that's all we need to know. If you'll just let me. . ." He rolled up his sleeves, and walked past the sofa the pair were sitting on to reach his filing cabinet. As he passed, Buffy noticed a strange tattoo on his arm.
"What's that?"
The man stopped, and looked at his arm. "Oh, that silly old thing. It's just a tattoo I had when I was younger, during my rebel stage."
Buffy wasn't satisfied with this explanation, however, and got to her feet to have a closer look. It was then she realised that it was an image of an eyeball, with flames dancing around it. It wasn't just a normal tattoo, she noticed, but a spelled one, so that the eye very slowly looked around, and the flames crackled. How could a tattoo do that? She reached out a finger and gently traced the outline. It was warm to the touch, and Buffy felt a tiny jolt, like an electric shot, shoot through her fingers, before Spike pulled her away.
"Just give us the ID, and we'll be on our way," he said forcefully.
"As you wish, sir," the man said silkily, then turned his back on them and whispered a few words in a language Buffy didn't understand. After a moment he turned back, a card held firmly between his long fingertips.
"There you go, Miss Summers," he said, handing it to her. She studied it closely. The picture was the perfect likeness of her, and it was exactly like a real ID. The only difference was the slight jolt she got from it as she touched it, and the image of that same eyeball discreetly tucked in the bottom corner. She looked up to say thank you, and realised that they were back in the alley outside.
"Oh, great," she said sulkily. "Now I can't say thank you!"
"You've said enough tonight as it is," Spike said darkly, as he started to sweep off into the gloom.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Spike turned to face her. "I told you not to tell him anything, and there you go, telling him your whole bloody life story! Not only that, but I said not to touch him, so what do you do? Poke the guy's tattoo, that's what!"
She didn't know why, but his words hurt her, and she snapped back in retaliation. "It's nothing to do with you what I do!" she said heatedly. "I've got my ID now, so if I were you I'd get out of my *bloody* way until tomorrow night, get it?"
Spike looked at her for a second, then turned and left. He was worried. Seriously worried. He knew what sort of things that guy got up to. He'd paid a lot of attention to the fact the Buffy was the Slayer, and that wasn't good at all. It was a good thing he'd be with her when she used that ID, or else things could get nasty. He'd heard tales of that guy, and things never turned out well for his victims. He was power mad, everyone knew it, and he'd do anything to get more.
But Buffy wasn't having any of those thoughts. She was practically skipping as she made her way home. She was going to see Evanescence, and all she'd had to do for it was let Spike come along. What could possibly go wrong?
*******
Spike had almost reached his crypt when a thought came to him.
The man had never asked for his payment.
And that man never did a job without getting something out of it.
**********
A/N: So, should I continue with this fic? Please review either way!
Distribution: If you want it, please take it. Just tell me where it's going.
Summary: There's nothing wrong with breaking a few rules, right? That's what Buffy thinks, until a trip to a club gets her more than she bargained for. Now she's in deep water - she's being hunted and she's powerless to stop it. There's one person who can help her - Spike.
Timeline: Season 5, between Into the Woods and Checkpoint. For the sake of the story, lets pretend Glory's gone on holiday for a bit, okay?
A/N: I've finally got myself moving after finishing Surfing With Spike, and decided to write a new fic. I've had this idea floating around for a while now, so please read and review to tell me what you think. This is a challenge based fic, and I'll be posting the challenge at the end once I've finished.
**********
"You're kidding me!"
Buffy sat on her bed, wide-eyed as Willow grinned at her.
"Nope!"
"So you're serious? Evanescence are really coming to Sunnydale?"
"Yep! They're stopping here for a gig before they go to LA."
Buffy squealed. This was like a dream come true. Her favourite band in the whole world, for this month at least, were coming to Sunnydale.
"Don't get your hopes up, though. You're not going to see them."
"Why not?" Buffy's eyebrows knitted together as she frowned at her friend. Willow knew how much she loved Evanescence. There was nothing that could stop her getting to their show.
"They're performing at the Fish Tank."
"So?"
"Buffy," Willow said slowly, trying to make her understand, "The Fish Tank is an over 21 bar. There's no way you're getting in there."
Buffy opened her mouth to retaliate, then closed it just as quickly. Willow was right. The Fish Tank was a really rank bar on the edge of town, near the docks. She'd known lots of under-21's that had been in, but it was a tough, slutty crowd that went through that door without an ID, and that definitely wasn't her.
After a moment, she said, "Why did you even bother telling me, then?"
"Because I know you," Willow said. "Now you know, you're gonna try everything you can to get in, and you'll probably fail miserably, but at least you know. If I hadn't told you, you'd have found out anyway, and then yelled at me for not telling you." Willow smiled slightly as she finished, a smile which Buffy returned.
*Willow's right,* she thought. *I have to see that band, if it's the last thing I do. And if that means breaking a few rules, so be it.*
********
Spike sat sprawled out on his chair, sipping a beer as he watched TV. Not that there was anything good on. There never was these days. He was half considering going out to fight a few demons, perhaps 'accidentally' bumping into Buffy so that they could patrol together, when he sensed someone outside. It only took him a moment to realise it was Buffy.
He scrambled to his feet as he heard his front door crash open, and the Slayer stalked inside.
"I need your help, Spike."
"Well, that's nice," Spike taunted. "You come barging in here, uninvited, nearly smash my front door up, then you ask me for help?!"
"Don't play games with me, Spike," Buffy said determinedly, glaring at him as she marched closer. "I need your help, and if you're not gonna give it to me, I'll just stake you and go."
Spike raised his eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Buffy was acting extra crabby, which meant something had really rattled her. He loved seeing her like this, totally stressed out, her blood pumping from annoyance that she had to ask him to help her. He considered the situation for a moment. If he helped her, he might get to see her for a few hours, where as if he refused, he probably wouldn't be seeing much of anything.
Eventually, he said, "Fine, luv. What's your problem?"
Buffy crept closer to him, so that they were mere inches apart, and whispered, "I need help getting into an over-21 bar."
Spike frowned for a moment, trying to decide whether he'd heard her correctly. Then, he burst out laughing.
"That's the Slayer's big problem? The fact that she's too young to go to the pub?"
"It's not that!" Buffy said hotly. "There's a rock band that's playing that I really want to see, but they're only going to the one place I can't get into. I've tried everything, but I can't think of a way to see them, so I thought, you've broken loads of laws in your time. You must know someone who could help."
Buffy bit her lip, waiting for his answer. She felt stupid coming to him for help like this, but he was the only person she could think of. She should've known that a fiend like that would just laugh her away. It had been a stupid idea to come.
She raised her glance to look at him, and noticed that instead of the mocking grin that had been on his face a moment earlier, there was now a look of concentration, as if he was actually thinking it over.
An idea came to Buffy, and, hoping that his answer wouldn't be too twisted and perverted, said, "If you help I'll reward you. You can have whatever you want."
Spike thought that over. She'd give him *anything* he wanted? Well, he could certainly think of a few things she could do for him, or to him, but he really doubted that the Slayer was that desperate for help. If he suggested those things she'd stake him, no doubt about it. She'd expected him to ask for cash or blood, he knew it, but he didn't need any of those things at the moment. Then he had an idea. She was going to a rock concert. So maybe. . .
"Fine," Spike said. "I'll help. But I want to come with you to the concert." He waited for Buffy's reaction, and was glad to see she didn't look angry, just confused.
"What? You want to come with me?"
Encouraged by the fact that she hadn't instantly said no, he added, "That's not all though. You have to buy my ticket, AND my drinks, AND promise not to ditch me or stake me. In return, I'll tell you what you need to do."
Buffy chewed it over in her mind for a moment, then said, "Deal."
*******
Buffy eyed the alley Spike had just led her into warily, watching the shadows for any sign of supernatural activity.
"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked nervously. "It's a bit. . ."
"Shady? Dangerous? What did you expect, a pretty little cottage? This guy is a serious warlock, luv. He deals in magicks of the illegal sort, so his hideout isn't exactly gonna be posh."
"Illegal? This guy does dark magick? Why did you bring me to a guy like that? He can't help me." She turned to go, but felt a strong hand on her shoulder, turning her back.
"That's not what I said now, luv, was it? I meant illegal as in 'against the law.' As in, spells to make yourself invisible for bank robberies, or superstrong if you want to murder someone, or, in your case, get yourself a fake ID which never fails."
"Fine. Where is it?"
"Here." Spike gestured towards the blank wall in front of her.
"What? That's just a wall."
"Oh, come on." Spike grabbed her arm, and pushed her towards the brick. She braced herself for the impact, but it didn't come. Looking around, she realised that instead of in the street, they were now both standing in a dark hallway, with a couple of mismatched chairs and tables arranged about the place.
"What. . . what just happened?"
Spike rolled his eyes, and flopped down in the nearest chair. "Don't you know anything, luv? A guy who deals with this sort of stuff isn't going to put out a sign for the world to see. He hides his office, and only demons who need his services can find it."
"Never heard of that before," Buffy said, sitting down in the other chair, and started to root through the magazines piled up on the table.
"Don't you read, Slayer? It's in bloody Harry Potter! Where do you think that JK chick got the idea from?"
Buffy let out a giggle. "*You've* read Harry Potter?"
Spike avoided her eyes. "Dawn made me read it."
"Right," Buffy said sarcastically. "I believe you." She paused for a moment, then said, "How long is this guy gonna be, anyway?"
"Not long, I suppose," a soft voice said. Buffy jumped, and looked around. There was no-one there.
"Oh, don't try to find me, because you won't. I'm watching you from my office. I apologise for not speaking to you sooner, but I had to check you weren't hostile. I must say, it's not often I've served Slayers, and one accompanied by a vampire. . . now there's a rare event." The voice paused for a moment. "No matter. Please, come into my office, and we can talk more."
Buffy was wondering how she was supposed to enter his office, as there were no doors out of the lobby, when one suddenly materialised in front of her eyes. Slightly put out, but trying not to show it, she got to her feet and headed purposefully towards it. She'd only gone a few steps when Spike caught her arm.
"Be careful what you say to this guy," Spike whispered in her ear. "He may look friendly, but that's only because of his power. He can make himself appear however he wishes, and for customers he takes the guise he thinks they'll find the most appealing. Don't tell him any more information than necessary, and, whatever you do, don't touch him." He said all this very quickly, then straightened up and headed through the door. Wondering what the hell he was on about, she followed him inside.
The office was completely the opposite of what she had expected. There was a comfy sofa at one end of the room, where Spike was already sat, and at the other was a desk covered in papers, and one of the most attractive men Buffy had ever seen.
He had deep soulful eyes, the sort that you could become lost in forever, and hair which flopped softly around his eyes, giving him a kind, welcoming look. His smile was mild and mysterious, and her heart melted when she saw him. She couldn't have said what colour his hair or eyes actually were, or what clothes he was wearing, or even how tall he was, but she felt he was a beautiful person who she could trust with all her secrets. Such was the nature of his spell.
"So, how may I help you?"
She had thought this part would be hard, but the words flowed from her mouth so easily it was incredible. "I need a fake ID to go to an over - 21 club. I heard you could help."
"I can indeed," he said, smiling. "I just need a few of your details." He pulled some paper and a pen off his desk, then asked, "What's your full name."
"Buffy Anne Summers."
"And how old are you currently, Miss Summers?"
"19."
"And how long have you been a Slayer?"
"Since I was 15."
"So, you must be a particularly powerful Slayer, to have lasted so long."
Spike got to his feet. "I don't see why that is important!"
"I need to know everything about her, Sir, to make sure that my ID is perfectly fitted to her. Now, Miss Summers, what is your current occupation?"
*******
Half an hour had passed, with the warlock constantly asking questions, none of which seemed important to Spike, before the data-collecting was complete.
"Well, Miss Summers, I think that's all we need to know. If you'll just let me. . ." He rolled up his sleeves, and walked past the sofa the pair were sitting on to reach his filing cabinet. As he passed, Buffy noticed a strange tattoo on his arm.
"What's that?"
The man stopped, and looked at his arm. "Oh, that silly old thing. It's just a tattoo I had when I was younger, during my rebel stage."
Buffy wasn't satisfied with this explanation, however, and got to her feet to have a closer look. It was then she realised that it was an image of an eyeball, with flames dancing around it. It wasn't just a normal tattoo, she noticed, but a spelled one, so that the eye very slowly looked around, and the flames crackled. How could a tattoo do that? She reached out a finger and gently traced the outline. It was warm to the touch, and Buffy felt a tiny jolt, like an electric shot, shoot through her fingers, before Spike pulled her away.
"Just give us the ID, and we'll be on our way," he said forcefully.
"As you wish, sir," the man said silkily, then turned his back on them and whispered a few words in a language Buffy didn't understand. After a moment he turned back, a card held firmly between his long fingertips.
"There you go, Miss Summers," he said, handing it to her. She studied it closely. The picture was the perfect likeness of her, and it was exactly like a real ID. The only difference was the slight jolt she got from it as she touched it, and the image of that same eyeball discreetly tucked in the bottom corner. She looked up to say thank you, and realised that they were back in the alley outside.
"Oh, great," she said sulkily. "Now I can't say thank you!"
"You've said enough tonight as it is," Spike said darkly, as he started to sweep off into the gloom.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Spike turned to face her. "I told you not to tell him anything, and there you go, telling him your whole bloody life story! Not only that, but I said not to touch him, so what do you do? Poke the guy's tattoo, that's what!"
She didn't know why, but his words hurt her, and she snapped back in retaliation. "It's nothing to do with you what I do!" she said heatedly. "I've got my ID now, so if I were you I'd get out of my *bloody* way until tomorrow night, get it?"
Spike looked at her for a second, then turned and left. He was worried. Seriously worried. He knew what sort of things that guy got up to. He'd paid a lot of attention to the fact the Buffy was the Slayer, and that wasn't good at all. It was a good thing he'd be with her when she used that ID, or else things could get nasty. He'd heard tales of that guy, and things never turned out well for his victims. He was power mad, everyone knew it, and he'd do anything to get more.
But Buffy wasn't having any of those thoughts. She was practically skipping as she made her way home. She was going to see Evanescence, and all she'd had to do for it was let Spike come along. What could possibly go wrong?
*******
Spike had almost reached his crypt when a thought came to him.
The man had never asked for his payment.
And that man never did a job without getting something out of it.
**********
A/N: So, should I continue with this fic? Please review either way!