Title: A
Measure of Happiness
Author:
Valerie
Disclaimer:
All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary:
More post-Giftage. This is essentially a B/S romance (with sex, of course), but
also will eventually deal with grander themes of good and evil. Maybe.
Rating: R
for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers:
Through the end of Season 5
Feedback:
Yes please!
Distribution:
Sure.
Author's
note: This chapter crosses over into the Angel-verse. The title of this chapter refers to the song of the same name by Joni
Mitchell; the lyrics are included in their entirety. Also included are some of the lyrics to "Born to Run," by Bruce
Springsteen. And can I just say, writing Lorne is really fun?
The next morning she woke alone. He had ducked out to beat the dawn again, she guessed. She shambled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she bathed, her mind went back to the frustration she had felt with the answer the Council had given her about the reason she was sent back from the dead. You weren't meant to die that day. There are great battles ahead against the coming darkness, and you are needed in those battles. Clearly, the Powers That Be saw that and brought you, one of their warriors, back from the netherworld. She wished she could know more. Then she remembered.
Towel around her hair, she dashed back to her room and started rooting around in her purse. Not finding what she was looking for, she finally upended the purse onto the bed and pawed through the contents. Finally, her fingers closed around a small, white business card.
-------------------
She banged open the crypt door, unwilling to break with tradition. Spike was sleeping on the couch, the television on. She flipped off the TV and poked him. "Spike. Spike! Wake up!"
He looked at her sleepily. "Couldn't stay away, eh?"
She ignored him. "What are you doing tonight?"
"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say, you?" he said, sitting up and grinning lasciviously at her.
She rolled her eyes. "Wanna go with me to L.A.?"
-----------------------
The door to Caritas was below street level. Buffy and Spike went down the stairs and came upon a bouncer who eyed the couple suspiciously. Spike immediately shifted into game face, put his arm around Buffy's waist, and nuzzled her neck. The bouncer let them pass. Spike shook his game face off as Buffy eyed him suspiciously. "Why'd you do that?"
"This is a demon bar, pet. They don't usually like a whole lot of humans crashing the party. Especially not –"
"The Slayer! Well, if it isn't Buffy Summers herself!" A green-faced demon in a fashionable, if extremely loud, blue suit was approaching them as they hesitated in the doorway. On the large stage which dominated the room, a particularly ugly demon woman was belting out Aretha Franklin's "Natural Woman."
"You know me?" Buffy asked, staring at the demon in the blue suit.
"Are you kidding? I've seen the inside of Angel-pie's noggin too many times not to know you. And you," he said, looking at the peroxide-blonde vampire at her side, "must therefore be Spike. Traded in your fangs to be the Slayer's lap-dog, that's the line about you 'round these parts. Not that there's anything wrong with that," he insisted, holding up his hands when Spike moved toward him menacingly. "It's a valid lifestyle choice. Now ordinarily I wouldn't want a Slayer in here," he said, looking around. "Makes the customers nervous. But in your case, I'll make an exception," he said, smoothly leading them to a table in the corner of the room.
"Here's the way it works, if Angel didn't explain it to you. Which he probably didn't, being the man of annoyingly few words that he is. You sing," he said, pointing to the stage, " I read you. Your aura."
Buffy looked nonplussed. "Angel didn't say anything about singing." Then she was struck with a realization. "You mean ... he sings? Here?" When Lorne nodded, she burst into laughter. It took her a while to regain control of herself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just ... I heard him sing once. He's terrible!"
"You're preachin' to the choir, sister. Anyway, when you're ready, just go right over there and pick yourself a song." With that, he hopped on stage and introduced the next act, a couple of obviously drunk vampires who launched into a rendition of "You've Lost that Lovin' Feeling." Lorne went over to the demon woman who had just butchered Aretha and spoke with her for several minutes.
"I don't know about this," Buffy said doubtfully as Spike flagged a waiter and ordered a couple of beers.
"Aw, come on, luv, it won't be so bad."
"Fine, then you do it."
"No fuckin' way. 'Sides, we're here for your enlightenment, remember?"
"That's just as well," she said, "I bet you're a worse singer than Angel anyway. I should be glad you aren't going to assault my ears."
"I'll have you know – You know what? Fine. You win." He walked over and started angrily flipping through the karaoke choices. She sat back and waited, a self-satisfied smile on her face. He'd probably choose the Ramones or the Clash or some punk crap like that, she thought.
Finally, the drunk vamps stumbled off stage and Lorne went up to the mike. "That was great, guys. Weren't they a hoot? Next we have William, who's gonna grace us with a little of the Boss." Lorne exited the stage and took Spike's seat next to Buffy.
Spike stepped up to the mike, winked at Buffy, and launched into a passable rendition of "Born to Run."
"Whoa!" said Lorne, looking askance at Buffy. "Well, don't worry, hon, Angel won't hear it from these lips."
"What are you talking about?"
"You and your pet vamp there. And your little bedtime activities," he added when she continued to stare at him blankly.
Buffy's eyes widened and she looked at the demon, horrified. "You can see that?"
"Well, he's devoting a hell of a lot of psychic energy to it, so, yeah. In living color, with Dolby digital surround sound," Lorne said, looking at her in a way that made Buffy feel naked. She flushed and looked away. Lorne chuckled. "You know, I thought I'd met the only vampire on the planet in love with the Slayer. But here's another. You must be some lady."
They watched the rest of the performance in silence. It wasn't bad, Buffy admitted grudgingly to herself.
Baby this town rips
the bones from your back
It's a death trap,
it's a suicide rap
We gotta get out
while we're young
`Cause tramps like
us, baby we were born to run
"Why don't you follow him. Go pick yourself a song, Miss Summers. Go ahead, it's easier than it looks, once you get started." Buffy shrugged and went over to the list, while Lorne mounted the stage again and began skillfully bantering with the audience. She flipped through the pages listlessly for a while til she came to one that caught her eye. It was one of her mom's favorites, and seemed strangely appropriate, although she was afraid Spike might read too much into it. Oh, what the hell, she thought.
"Well, looks like our next performer is ready to go," Lorne said, checking the monitor that displayed the lyrics. "The Chosen One herself is here to mellow us out a little with a personal favorite of mine by Joni Mitchell. Come on up, Buffy," he invited, leading the audience in applause.
Buffy hesitantly approached the microphone. I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought. I'd kill Angel if he weren't dead already. The music started, and Buffy started singing, fixing her eyes on the back wall of the club.
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love again
When I get that
crazy feeling, I know
I'm in trouble again
I'm in trouble
'Cause you're a
rambler and a gambler
And a
sweet-talking-ladies man
And you love your
lovin'
But not like you
love your freedom
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love too fast
It's got me hoping
for the future
And worrying about the
past
'Cause I've seen
some hot hot blazes
Come down to smoke
and ash
We love our lovin'
But not like we love
our freedom
Didn't it feel good
We were sitting
there talking
Or lying there not
talking
Didn't it feel good
You dance with the
lady
With the hole in her
stocking
Didn't it feel good
Didn't it feel good
Help me
I think I'm falling
In love with you
Are you going to let
me go there by myself
That's such a lonely
thing to do
Both of us flirting
around
Flirting and
flirting
Hurting too
We love our lovin'
But not like we love
our freedom
By the time she finished she had lost herself in the song,
transported back to a simpler time, in the kitchen with her mom, singing along
to Joni. She was surprised when a wave
of applause hit her and she was jolted back to the present. Lorne was taking the mike out of her hand.
"Wasn't she super? Wow, too bad there's only one Slayer in every generation; we could get a real girl group together. Anyhoo, please welcome our next performer, a Parasite demon with a penchant for Journey."
Buffy reseated herself at their table and found Spike
looking at her curiously. "What? Was I that bad?"
"No! No, Slayer, you were ... really good, actually. I'm impressed." It felt like his eyes were
boring into her soul. She looked down
and took a swallow of her beer.
"Thanks. You were good too."
"OK, kids, time for the moment of truth." Lorne grabbed a
chair from an adjacent table and turned it around backwards, straddling it as
he faced them across the table. He
looked back and forth from one to the other before his eyes came to rest on
Buffy. "You want to know why the Powers sent you back. Why you're alive."
"Yeah, basically."
"It's not an answer you'll like. As I see it, you've spent over five years of your life fighting
every evil that gets tossed your way. This guy, for instance," he said, cocking
his thumb at Spike. "You've fought and you've bled and you've sacrificed. You
sacrificed your childhood, you sacrificed Angel, and you were supposed to
sacrifice your sister. That was the way it was supposed to go down. But you sacrificed yourself instead. Not in
the Powers' game plan. So they did the only thing they could do. They broke the
rules, jerked you out of heaven, and sent you back to this world. Just be thankful you don't remember being in
heaven; that would make this a lot harder, I expect."
Buffy was surprised at that; she wasn't sure she'd believed
in heaven. "But why did the Powers need to bring me back at all?"
"The apocalypse, of course. And I know what you're thinking,
you've already been there, done that when it comes to apocalypses, right? But this is different. This is a war, a war
between good and evil the likes of which the universe has never seen. And without you, good would've been at a
decided disadvantage." Lorne shook his head. "You know, the more people I meet
who have reserved front row seats for Armageddon, the more I just want to run
as far and as fast as I can away from you. First Angel and his crew, and now
you two. And yes, I said you two. You're part of this too, William.
And not just as the Slayer's boy toy. You've got a part to play in this, but as to what that part is, as the
immortal Magic Eight Ball says, 'Ask Again Later'."
"When will it happen?" Buffy asked, shaking slightly.
"If I knew that, I'd know how long a lease I should sign on
this place," he said, laughing. "I'm
not sure if even the Powers know the answer to that question."
Buffy stood awkwardly. "I'm going to the bathroom. Then we can go." She fled the table.
Lorne sighed. "I knew she wouldn't like that answer." He
fixed Spike with his gaze, his voice turning uncharacteristically hard. "You've
got a hard road ahead of you, vampire. Harder even than your grandsire and his
long road to redemption. You walk a
fine line between the light and the dark, and you do it with no soul to guide
you, nothing but your love for that woman. When I say I don't know what part you have to play, I mean I don't know
which side you're going to be on. And
I've got a hunch that a lot may depend on which side you're on." He stood
slowly. "You remember that, OK, William? You two have a good night," he said,
walking away from the table, thinking for about the hundredth time that
sometimes a little information was way too much for his peace of mind.