Chapter 9 – Our Romeo Makes His Move..
"You continue to amaze me." Spike shook his head. Dawn grinned broadly.
"Presto, no Buffy." She nodded.
"How'd you get Anya to lie like that?" he asked, raising a brow.
"I told her what you're doing." She shrugged. "She thought it was so sweet, so she said she'd help out. Well, that and the fact that I bribed her with 30 bucks."
"And where did you get that money?" he asked, again glaring at her.
"You know, you're starting to sound like a broken record." She grinned.
"How the hell do you keep getting my wallet?" he asked, exasperated.
"You left it on the table. Duh." She shook her head. "But no matter!" She waved a hand. "You look awesome. Hey, when did you get cologne?"
"Just sort of found it."
"Wait a second, that smells like Xander's!" she realized. "Did you steal Xander's stuff?"
"Maybe." He replied, a bit embarrassed.
"That is so cute!" she laughed. He gave her a look. "In a not at all cute sort of way."
"That's what I thought." He sighed loudly. "I look like an idiot. And why doesn't this tie just tie itself?"
"Here, let me." She rolled her eyes. She made short work of it and he scowled.
"I hate dressin' up." He complained again.
"Just think of what she'll say when she sees you!" Dawn encouraged.
"I think the statement 'What the hell are you wearing?' with the addition of loud laughter might be what I would expect." He frowned.
"I guess I forgot to tell you that you need a little confidence in yourself. Hey, I think I hear her." Dawn walked to the window, looking out. "Yeah. Show time, Romeo. You better give her a good time so I don't get in trouble for skipping."
"She's here?" he managed to squeak. She put the flowers in his hand. "Good luck!"
"Wait! Dawn!" He turned around to see the door open. It was quickly becoming obvious to him that he really wasn't ready for this. He turned around to find himself staring at Buffy, who was staring at Spike like he grew two heads. He instantly turned red, and he realized it really did suck being human sometimes. "B-buffy! Hi!"
"I'm almost afraid to ask." She commented, looking him over.
"Well, I—um—" he stammered. "I want to take you on a date. These are for you." She looked at him with disbelief, but took the flowers. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. "I know you said you'd never even like me nevermind go on a date with me, but I thought even if it wasn't a date at least I could treat you out for some sort of dinner considering the fact that I have money at the moment and should pay you back at least a little for not killing me for opening the portal—" And he finally took a breath. He kept forgetting that he needed air now.
"You want to take me on a date?" she finally managed to ask, repeating the most important part of his wild jumble of words.
"Yeah." He nodded lightly. "I figured—it was worth a shot." He looked down. "It would really mean a lot to me. I even have reservations to that really big restaurant with the fancy French words that escape me."
"That place?" she asked, shocked. "But I have nothing to wear for a place like—"
"Sure you do, sis." Spike turned his head to see Dawn walking out with the dress she herself had picked out for her sister. Buffy raised a brow.
"Feeling better?" she asked with a smirk.
"Very." She smiled. Buffy eyed the dress, then Spike.
"I'm going to regret this." She muttered, but took the dress.
"You don't have to if you don't want too, I mean—wait, are you going?" he looked at her, confused.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll go." She nodded. "But this is not a date."
"R-right." He responded quickly. "No problem. Got it. Not a date at all."
He watched her walk up the stairs, and he felt himself growing even more red when she disappeared into her room. "It's totally a date."
Spike snapped out of his thoughts, and glanced down at Dawn. He smiled. "Nah, it isn't. Buffy once said the day she goes on a date with me is the day the world ends."
"Better start praying in that case." Dawn raised a brow. Spike cracked a smile at this.
He sat down on the couch, trying to forget what a total idiot he looked like. He suddenly had a bright flash hit his eyesight, and he was momentarily blinded. He heard snickering, and when he shook the evil little dots that came from the sudden light, he saw Dawn looking at a picture.
She didn't.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"I couldn't resist." She laughed.
She did.
He got up, about to just about do anything to get that picture—the one she had just taken. She could blackmail him for years with the thing. Just as he got near her, he suddenly noticed movement about him and he looked up.
No picture could occupy his mind anymore. Nothing could. He was instantly mesmerized by her, and his breath got caught up in his throat for a moment.
"Wow, Buffy, you look awesome!" Dawn turned and looked too as she walked down the stairs to the bottom. She elbowed Spike, who nervously laughed.
"Um—I—Erm—" he stammered.
"I believe that is William talk for you look nice." Dawn commented idly. He shot her a glare, then directed his attention to his feet, feeling himself grow red—again. "Maybe you should go now. With Anya's car. Here's the keys." Spike stared at the keys that were put in his hand. He looked at her, surprised. "You can't ride on a motorcycle in clothing like that."
"R-right." He finally managed to get a coherent word out of his mouth. He searched his head for any gentleman-y sort of thing he could do. Without a word, he offered his arm, and she looked at him for a second and then took it.
"Don't wait up for us." Buffy called back to Dawn as Spike lightly led her out. "You have school tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah—" she sighed loudly. She watched them walk out and close the door behind them. She paused, then shook her head. "Good luck, Spike."
~~
Spike kept thinking of everything nice he could possibly think of. He was a bit rusty with this date thing. Most of the times the girls he went with just wanted a cute bad man to have some fun with. He never had any problem with that—after all, he didn't have to worry about having kids.
"You look nice." He managed to say after a long bout of silence. She looked at him. "Dawn picked out a nice dress."
"Thanks." She replied, shifting slightly. "Kinda feels weird though."
"Well, Bit didn't know your exact size, so I think she estimated—" he replied uneasily.
"No, not the dress." She shook her head. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"Then what, luv?" he asked.
"This." She motioned in between them. "Just a little weird, I guess."
"Don't feel weird." He responded. She looked at him. "It's not a date, remember? Just two old enemies going out for some food."
She laughed at this. "Yeah, sounds about right."
And then they went silent again, but it wasn't the usual silence between them. This one—Spike felt a tension that he actually thought Buffy might be feeling too. She kept shifting, like she was nervous—maybe even as nervous as he was. But, he reminded himself, this wasn't a date unless she said so. He had learned quite well that the direct approach never worked with Buffy.
When they reached the huge lighted restaurant, the valet in front took their car. Again he offered his arm and again she took it. He couldn't help but notice how perfectly graceful and lovely she looked. It was like his entire life was leading up to this. Every misfortune, every let down—it all was being made up for in this single moment of pure contentness.
The waiter he had talked to came through. They were led to their table, which happened to be on the large balcony, which was pretty high. The view was quite amazing to put it lightly. What was the best of it was that it was a clear night, and the stars were out full force. It was the sort of night Spike always secretly sat out for, on top of his crypt. It was like his secret love, star gazing.
After a bit, their orders were taken. The waiter left them alone again, and Spike started to think of what to do next.
"This place is pretty expensive." Buffy finally spoke up. "Sure you can afford it?"
"Yeah. I have enough cash to go around." He smiled. "So eat what you want."
She nodded absently. "If you say so." She paused. "Thank you for doing this."
"Doing what? Taking you out?" he raised a brow.
"Yeah." She nodded. "I know I don't deserve anything like this sometimes—"
"You always deserve it to me." He responded, then remembered that he wasn't supposed to be hitting on her, and stopped talking. She continued to look at him. "Sorry, I didn't—"
"I know." She responded. She thought a moment. "Willow's doing pretty good with finding the thing that will make Alla go away."
"Really? That's good." He nodded lightly. He noticed a faint frown appear on her face.
"She and I were looking for ways especially that would kill him and not kill his magic." Spike looked up at this, catching her gaze.
"You were?" he asked, suddenly interested. She nodded.
"Yeah, it seems like someone close to us sort of had a little of the magic done on him." She replied casually.
"Is that so?" he asked, raising a brow. She nodded.
"Yeah. We both sort of figured it would mean a lot to him." She responded. He smiled.
"Yeah, I think it would too." He nodded in agreement.
She looked him over. "I did have a question, though."
"Hm?" he asked.
"How did Dawn manage to get you into a suit?" she blurted out.
He just laughed. He glanced toward the inside of the place, where people were slow dancing. It was the perfect way to woo her, the perfect chance to show her that he was the perfect gentleman. He hoped that his dancing skills weren't lacking since the last time he danced was probably before Buffy even existed. Still, there was his chance—
"Would you like to dance?" he asked. She glanced toward the area too, and looked like she was thinking. "You know you want to." She raised a brow at him, but for once it didn't have that annoyed look in her eyes.
"This sounds a little familiar." She responded, and Spike wasn't sure how to reply to that.
He had forgotten all about their little conversation—the one where he almost kissed her, the one where it almost drove him to kill her in a fit of hurt. The hurt really didn't stem from just her turning him down, but about every girl that ever turned him down. Luckily she never found out about that little weak moment. And, if he had anything to do with it, it would stay that way.
"Don't look so nervous." He must have gone into his thoughts, because he hadn't realized she had stood up and was looking at him expectantly. "If you wanna dance, well—"
"You mean it?" he asked, looking entirely doubtful.
"I can't knee you well in a dress, so I think I do." She shrugged lightly.
He wasn't ready for her actually AGREEING to his offer.
He lead her to the floor, feeling his hands all ready start to tremble. "Get it together." He mumbled to himself. Buffy looked at him.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"Said nothing at all." He quickly said. She rolled her eyes. He pondered lightly, sort of staring at her for a moment before nervously placing his hands in the right places. How awkward was this? Spike bit his lip, trying to control his emotions. He felt like he should spurt out poetry or something. Then he remembered his nickname and decided that even though it was tempting he didn't actually feel like making her cringe at his horrible excuse for rhythm and poetic prose.
"Still can't ever be a gentleman, huh?" he asked her, softly, trying not to tremble any more then he was.
"No." she replied, shaking her head. His face fell slightly. "But I guess you're an amazing simulation." He looked at her and she gave a half smile.
"I'll accept that." He nodded lightly.
"So, how does it feel to be alive again?" she asked. "I never did get to ask you that."
"It feels different." He twirled her lightly as the music continued to play. "But—I think I might like being normal again."
"You? Normal? Now that's highly doubtful." She joked.
"Well, comparatively speaking." He grinned. She nodded, understanding. "Well, I do miss the whole 'I'm allowed to be bad because I'm dead' excuse, of course. Bloody useful, it was."
"Only you would miss that." She rolled her eyes. He smiled mischievously.
"Would you expect anything else, luv?" he asked innocently. She shook her head.
"No, I wouldn't." she answered. He paused, thinking a moment.
"You really think you could find a way to keep me like—this?" he inquired cautiously.
"What's this? Big bad Spike wants to keep his soul?" she asked, a joking tone. He blushed slightly.
"Well, the bloody thing's a little useful." He admitted. "Sort of like this paperweight things. Holds everything down."
"I'm not going to even try to understand that analogy." She smirked.
"Suit yourself." He grinned. "But really, ahh, do you think—"
"That you can keep it? Maybe." She nodded.
"Do YOU want me to keep it?" he asked, raising a brow. The song ended and people went back to their seats. Buffy hesitated, looking him over.
"Well, you're a lot warmer." She simply said.
Spike smiled at this. The remark was actually one of the nicest things she ever said to him because he understood what she meant.
