Save the Last Dance for Me

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 13: Déjà vu All Over Again

Chapter Summary:

Spike and Sam head to Willy's bar to gather intel. What will the soldier make of the blatant display of demon-hood?

After picking up that litter of kittens he'd been saving back for a rainy day, and stowing them in one of Sam's duffel bags for transport, Spike had Sam take him to Willy's, a demon bar in the seedier part of town. If anyone knew where the demon eggs might be, it would be someone here, most likely someone in the backroom poker game – the game where Clem had been headed.

Spike tried to get Sam to wait in the truck, but with no luck. "Just keep quiet then, yeah? And try not to shoot, stab, or stake anything," he instructed her as he sauntered in ahead of her, the bag of meowing fur-balls slung over his shoulder. Several demons around the room recognized him and called out or lifted a glass in greeting as he entered, which he returned casually as he headed for the bar.

Sam took in the mish-mash of demon-kind present in the bar with surprise and more than a little apprehension.

"Buffy knows about this place?" she asked, keeping her voice low as she tried to watch all the demons at once, expecting an attack at any moment, her hand resting on her gun, ready to draw.

"'Course," Spike answered, fist-bumping a very large hairy creature who could've been Cousin It's father, or possibly cross between a wooly mammoth and a wookiee, sitting at the bar.

"How's it hangin', Joe?" he asked the hairy demon cordially.

"Straight and honey brown this week," Joe replied in a rumbling mountain of a voice that matched his size.

"I like it. Didn't really think last week's burgundy red curls suited ya, too brash," Spike observed. He reached out and took a long lock of the demon's mane between a thumb and forefinger, sliding them down the long length of hair. "Very nice," Spike approved, admiring the soft, shiny, brunette locks between his fingers. "You'll have to get me what yer using for conditioner these days … fer my girl."

Joe seemed to nod, his ruffling hair being the only indication. "Soon as they're done testing it I'll have some delivered to your crypt."

"Brilliant. Just let me know what I owe ya," Spike agreed, releasing Joe's long hair.

Joe waved him off with a furry paw the size of a dinner plate. "It's on me, Spike. You know I still owe you for that Bonaduce't demon. I know it wasn't easy getting it out from under the house."

"No worries, always glad t' help, mate."

"How's your supply of hair gel?" Joe asked, one coal-black eye gleaming out from between the thick, long hair to check Spike's coif. "The super-hold looks like it's working well for you."

"Yeah, it's brilliant," Spike agreed, touching a hand to his hair. "Maybe need more middle o' next month, yeah?"

"You got it," Joe assured him.

Spike gave him a grateful nod and turned to the bored-looking, middle-aged, balding, human bartender who had appeared in front of them behind the bar.

Spike glanced at Sam. "What's yer pleasure?"

Sam blinked. "I'm not drinking in a demon bar and sacrificing my reflexes and judgement," she informed him sternly.

Spike quirked a brow at her but shrugged, turning back to the bartender. "Irish Coffee. I'll have the Irish and give 'er the coffee," he instructed, jabbing a thumb towards Sam. "Light and sweet, I'm guessin'?"

Sam nodded, a little flustered about how he could divine her preference in coffee, but shook it off in favor of addressing more pressing matters.

"Buffy knows about this and she just lets it go on?" the soldier asked in a low voice, her eyes still trying to watch everything at once as they waited for the drinks.

Spike turned to face her, annoyed, one elbow leaning casually against the bar. "Look, Bat Girl, these demons are harmless. They live their lives, they 'ave jobs, blow off a little steam here before heading home to their families. They don't hurt anyone, they're contributing members of society. The Slayer knows they're here, she uses some for intel, she has some over for bloody movie nights. Despite what yer dearly beloved may say, the world is not black and white. Buffy's learned to live in the grey, somethin' most Slayers never live long enough to even realize exists. You'd do well to learn from that."

Sam scowled at him. "What does Joe do for a living? Or is he your personal hair-care specialist?" she asked in a derogatory tone, as if Joe couldn't possibly have any sort of real job.

"He's a hair product tester, works fer several large hair product manufacturing companies. Makes in the six figures, he does," Spike informed her dryly.

"Spike, oh, Spiiike," a small, sweet, bell-like voice sing-songed from behind them, interrupting before Sam could reply. Spike turned to face a petite, feminine demon with blue-green skin. She was wearing an effervescent dress of light pink that appeared to be made of translucent fish scales. She stood just barely above his bellybutton, and seemed to be breathing soapsuds, with hair made of shimmering bubbles.

"Ariel, my little laundress. You're looking lovely this evening. New washing-up liquid?"

The little demon ran a hand through the glistening rainbow of bubbles on her head and several floated off, popping softly in the air above her.

"You're so sweet to notice, Spike," she said shyly, her rippling, aquamarine eyes dropping coquettishly.

"You've been a very bad boy," she chastised him, looking back up with those mesmerizing eyes. "I had a dreadful time getting that green demon slime out of your jeans, it was soaked through and ground in. You really should be more careful what you slay, Spike, or at least jump back faster … maybe an apron would help."

"Good advice, that. Jus' let me know what I owe ya for the extra trouble, luv," he offered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some bills.

The little, bubbly demon waved a dismissive hand. "It's okay, just the usual, but do be careful, won't you?"

Spike agreed, apologizing, and handed her a few bills which she tucked into a glistening bag on her shoulder which looked like it was made of … water? "I'll drop it all off tomorrow, will I?"

Spike nodded. "Perfect, luv. Just leave 'em on the chair if I'm not there."

The little demon curtsied to him formally, a few more bubbles rising up from her head and floating away with the motion, and then turned away to join her friends at a table on the other side of the bar.

"The little mermaid does your laundry?" Sam questioned, watching the little thing move, almost floating, across the room.

"Her name's Roberta … just looks like a landlocked mermaid, dontcha think?"

Sam made a non-committal noise in her throat as their drinks were set down on the bar.

"Now," he said, picking up the tumbler of Irish Whiskey and dropping more bills on the bar. "Keep your gun holstered, yer gob shut, and let me do the talking," he ordered, picking up the bag of kittens before sauntering toward the closed door at the back of the bar where the real dealings of Willy's went on. Sam followed in his wake, her coffee in one hand, but her other hand hovering near her gun, still uncertain.

**~** Scene Break **~**

"Spike!" came a chorus of voices from the poker table as he entered the backroom of Willy's.

"Boys, deal me in," he replied cordially, before turning a cold glare on Sam, pointing a finger at her and ordering her to, "Stay."

"You're gonna play cards? Now!?" she hissed back in a low tone, keeping her eyes on the demons at the table and her back against the closed door. "If they have information, why don't we just beat it out of them? Just tell me which one I can hurt or kill, and let's get this done," she insisted, reaching for her gun. "We're wasting time!"

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. "Bloody déjà vu all over again," he muttered to himself, wondering if the brunette had missed her calling as a Slayer. She sounded just like Buffy when he'd brought her here to try and gather intel a few weeks ago. "And I thought females were supposed t' be the gentler sex," he groaned under his breath.

Spike stepped back close to the brunette and addressed her in a stern tone. "Trust me, this is how it's done. I'll get more info out of live demons than dead ones, right? I'll have the info we need shortly, just stand there, don't move, don't talk, try not t' breathe too loudly, yeah?"

"I don't like it," she argued.

"Not askin' ya to like it. Just do it," he insisted firmly, his blue eyes blazing, brooking no argument.

Sam glared at him, but dropped her hand from her gun and replied with a short, crisp, "Fine."

"Fine," Spike parroted back, just as crisply, before turning and taking a seat next to Clem at the table.

"Does Buffy know you're out with another girl?" Clem asked, eying Sam critically.

"Ante up," called the dealer, a many-eyed thing with green skin and orange tentacles that looked like dreadlocks curling around his shoulders and down his back.

Spike reached down in the bag he'd been carrying and retrieved one of the kittens, putting it in a basket in the center of the table before answering Clem. "Yeah, she knows."

Clem's pink eyes went wide. "Maybe I need to try dating some of those tight-skinned girls. I guess the ugly ones don't mind so much if you fool around on 'em, huh?"

Spike pursed his lips and picked his cards up. "Well, I wouldn't go that far, mate," he advised Clem. "Depends on the girl, I reckon."

Clem nodded knowingly, picking up his own cards in his large, flabby fingers. "I just don't know how you stand to look at them naked, Spike, let alone touch them. They're just so … smooth and tight. Is it the same all over?"

Spike tossed two cards back and received two more from the dealer. "Yeah, pretty much," he conceded. "Very tight … everywhere," he admitted, a wicked grin curving his lips at the thought.

Clem made a disgusted sound, the wrinkles covering his face growing deeper as he scrunched it up in abhorrence. "Don't know how you manage it, Spike," he offered in a pitying tone, shaking his head. "All that shiny hair, and those teeth! They're so straight … and white! Ugh! I mean, I guess if you made them keep most of their clothes on and covered up their faces while you did it. Still, I don't know. They just don't have enough skin on their bones." Clem screwed up his mouth in a grimace and shook his head.

"Well, someone's got to do it, I reckon. Ugly girls need a good shag now an' then, too," Spike pointed out, pulling three more kittens from his bag and upping the bet.

"Well, better you than me," Clem declared, matching Spike's bet.

Spike pulled the last two kittens out of his bag to up the bet one last time.

One of the other demons folded, but Clem and the other two at the table called his bet.

"Read 'em and weep, boys," Spike gloated, laying down a Royal Flush.

All the other demons at the table moaned, cursed, and complained in various languages, tossing their cards down crossly.

"Good thing you're lucky at something, Spike," Clem congratulated him as Spike gathered up all the kittens, putting them in his bag. "Heaven knows you deserve a reward for dating all those hideously grotesque women."

Spike stood up, clapping his hands together and rubbing them briskly. "Right then, nice doin' business with you blokes, but I need t' be off," he began, but was interrupted by protests from his comrades.

"Oh, you want a chance t' win yer tabbies back, that it?" he asked, unnecessarily. "Well, here's the thing, looking for some demon eggs, supposed to be a hot commodity around here the last couple of days. Anyone who knows something about their location can 'ave all their little mousers back."

Spike stood waiting expectantly, looking from one to the other. The other demons all shifted in their seats uneasily, looking everywhere but at him. "The Slayer'll owe ya one," he added, upping the ante. "Just need a location."

Finally, a purple demon with what looked like a terrible acne condition and red, googly eyes that pointed in different directions cleared his throat. "I hear someone calling himself 'The Doctor' bought them from a dealer on the west side of town."

"Not what I asked, but thank you for playing," Spike dismissed him. "Anyone else? Current location is what we're going for 'ere."

The green demon with the dreadlocks finally spoke up. "My kittens back, plus four more for the location," he offered.

"One more," Spike countered.

"Two," the demon bartered.

"Done," Spike accepted.

"Being kept in the underbelly of a human dwelling," the demon revealed.

"Which one, got a few hundred o' those around these parts," Spike urged.

"Go one league magnetically north of the structure that smells of human blood and benzalkonium chloride," he informed Spike. "Turn on the hardened path that leads directly toward the Hellmouth, then go one league plus twenty-four paces past the chlorine spring."

Spike narrowed his eyes at the demon, running this around in his mind a few moments. "About three miles north o' the hospital – that should be Baker Street – turn west and go past the pool about three more miles, plus twenty-four paces? That'd be about the middle of the 600 block, I reckon."

The demon shrugged, but Spike nodded to himself. He was pretty sure he could find it, but asked, "What color was the house?"

The green demon considered a moment before replying, "It is as a virgin lily, pure and chaste, touched along its borders by the first burst of spring upon the trees of the valley."

Spike furrowed his brows a moment and nodded. "White with green trim, then."

The demon shrugged again. "As you say."

Spike handed over the kittens in payment, then left the rest in the care of Clem. He knew he'd never see those tabbies again, but Clem was good for it.

Spike strode purposely back toward the door where Sam was still waiting quietly, if not patiently.

"Ready to dance, pet?" he asked as he pulled the door open and surged past her, duster billowing in his wake.

"Dance?" she questioned, hurrying to catch him up. "What kind of dancing?"

"The best kind." Spike replied, capturing his bottom lip with his teeth, and turning back to give her a wickedly evil leer. "The dance of death."

**END NOTES**

So, will the eggs be in the underbelly of this dwelling? And just who's house is it, anyway? What will Spike and Sam find when they get there? Will Buffy recover in time to join them? We'll see soon!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you'll stop in and let me know what you think! I really love hearing from everyone!

Thanks so, so much to my wonderful beta, Paganbaby, for all her support and suggestions! Any errors here are mine, since I can't stop fiddling!