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Buffy stared into her drink and sighed. The evening was, to her amazement, turning out to be a lot more fun than she'd expected. She ruthlessly forced down the mental tendril of panic that surfaced at the thought of enjoying herself. All of her friends were here—well, except Giles, but seeing him here would have completely wigged her out, anyway, since he was supposed to be watching Dawn—and it was almost (almost) like old times again. They clustered around a too-small table and yelled to be heard over the hard, metallic throb of the music. She had even danced—not as much as she once might have, but she joined in when the whole group got funky to their favorite songs, and even accepted the offer of a slow dance with Xander. Now she sat at the table by herself. Willow and Tara had gone off to talk, and Anya and Xander were lip-locked on the far side of the dance floor. Strangely, she didn't feel alone, just…quiet.
"Feel like company?"
Funny, Buffy thought, I'm not surprised to find him here. It's almost like I was waiting for him to show up… With a half-smile, she turned to look up at Spike, who was standing a few feet away.
He continued with uncharacteristic uncertainty, "Because if you'd rather, I can go…" He looked in her eyes, and wondered if she, too, was remembering the last time he'd approached her in the Bronze, in the days before Dru's short-lived return to Sunnydale…before he'd told her how he felt. Satan knows, I don't want to mess up like *that* again…
His dead heart actually fluttered slightly as she silently waving a graceful hand at the chair across the table from her. Sliding into the indicated seat, he measured her expression. It wasn't just wishful thinking, he realized. She really does look different tonight, more…more whole, somehow. "So, how's the Little Bit?" he asked—not just for something to say, but because he truly found himself wanting to know. "Holding up alright after last night's… production?"
She nodded, her lips almost quirking into a snatch of a smile at his choice of words. "She's fine. Just another ho-hum kind of day for the entourage of the Chosen One, I suppose…" She broke off, staring self-consciously into her drink so she wouldn't have to look into his eyes…those eyes where he wrote everything he couldn't say, everything she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Spike took a breath. We know each other so well…she knows what's coming next. The words came easily to his lips, as if scripted. "And…you?"
I knew that was coming. Buffy also knew that this time, with this vampire, she couldn't just blow the question of with the ease of 'oh, I'm fine,' as she so often did. For what he'd done for her last night alone, he deserved better from her. And he had saved her so many times before last night…
She sighed. "Believe it or not, I actually think I'm a lot better," she said reflectively. "I feel like—like I'm floating in limbo, I guess…but since I used to think I was in hell, I suppose that's an improvement." She shot him a sly look that held the barest scrap of her old fire. "Just, y'know, trying to do that whole 'go-on-living' thing."
Spike had the grace to look rather embarrassed at the reminder of his musical 'role' of the night before. He glanced across the dance floor. It was right there, he realized. Right in that spot, I grabbed her and made her hear me, forced her to step back from the edge… He strained to suppress a shudder at the memory of just how close to that precipice she had been.
Buffy watched him remember, and found herself unexpectedly overwhelmed with compassion for this beautiful, soulless creature who could love her so selflessly—a gift she had so far repaid with little more than poorly-concealed loathing. Impulsively, she rose to her feet and held out her hand to him.
"C'mon, you wanna dance?"
His bleached head snapped up so fast that she wondered idly if he'd sprained something. He had an expression of such utter mystification on his face, she couldn't help but smile. Oh, no…was that a real smile? Damn…
"Nice, safe dancing, I promise. No fire, no smoke. Just…a 'thank you.'" She continued to watch him—all the while trying and failing to force the smirk off of her face—as his expression shifted from shock through bemusement, wonder and sheer joy, before finally settling into a small smile so warm and tender that it nearly took her breath away. Without another word, he stood, took her hand, and led her out onto the dance floor, just as the band finished up their piece with a crash of electric riffs and percussion.
Spike led her unwaveringly to the precise spot on the dance floor where he had stopped her mad spinning the night before. Just as he turned to face her, the band began a new tune, a cover of a currently popular song—not really a slow song, but a far cry from the earlier head-banging clamor.
The music began gently, and the vampire couldn't decide whether to cheer or cringe. Why did it have to be *this* song? he silently implored the universe. Damn, how many times have I sat and listened to this, feeling every word echo in my hollow bones…if any couple who aren't really a couple can have a song that's 'theirs,' this one's 'ours'…
As the first strummed chords began to die, and the first of the lyrics rolled off the singer's tongue, the vampire and the Slayer stepped into each others' arms and began to move.
You cannot quit me so quickly…
Is there no hope in you for me?
No corner you could squeeze me?
But I've got all the time for you, luv…
The space between
The tears we cry,
Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more.
The space between
The wicked lies we tell,
And hope to keep safe from the pain…
If she had permitted herself to entertain such thoughts, Buffy would have marveled at how well Spike could move on the dance floor. Granted, they were just sort of swaying, but they were so in synch with each other, it was as if they'd been born dancing. With each other. The touch of his cool hands on her waist made her shiver slightly.
"Sorry, luv," he said quietly, referring to the chill of his hands on her skin.
She smiled slightly, shaking her head. "Don't be. Cold hands, warm heart, right?" She said with a glimmer in her eye. Flustered by her own boldness, she looked down and continued, "Anyway, it's part of the whole 'vamp thing.' It's who you are, Spike—don't apologize for that."
These fickle, fuddled words confuse me,
Like, 'will it rain today?'
We waste the hours with talking, talking,
These twisted games we're playing…
Almost against her will, Buffy found her eyes drawn to Spike's once again. He was watching her with an expression of wonder, as if he fully expected—and dreaded—that she might evaporate into smoke in his arms. It was disturbing…and more than a little flattering. She kept having to remind herself that he was a vampire. Remember—drinks blood, roasts in sunlight, and *wants you dead*?? Well…*used* to want you dead. Now, just wants you…
It was so much easier to be with Spike when she allowed herself to forget his true nature…after all, he didn't act like a demon—most of the time. And at times like right now, when he looked at her with those damned expressive eyes overflowing with all the things his undead heart couldn't contain…he felt more human to her than she herself did.
We're strange allies,
With warring hearts;
What a wild-eyed beast you be!
The space between
The wicked lies we tell,
And hope to keep us safe from the pain…
For now…well, she was willing to overlook the whole 'vamp thing' (at least until this song is over). She had been maintaining a rather careful volume of space between them as they danced; now, she gave up and surrendered to the comfort she knew she would feel (feel!) in his embrace. She slid her arms all the way around his neck to brush the fine, stiff hairs there, and stepped into him, leaning her head on his shoulder. His arms moved without conscious thought, wrapping themselves gently around her. The space between them shrank to a hands-breadth of semi-dark.
Look at us, spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster;
You know you went off like the devil a in church,
In the middle of a crowded room.
All we can do, my luv,
Is hope we don't take this ship down…
For his part, the blond demon was enjoying a moment of exquisite rapture. Good thing I don't need to breathe, or I'd be in real trouble… As had happened during the kiss he and Buffy had shared the night before, a rather gleefully malicious voice in the back of his mind (why does that sound like Dru?) reminded him incessantly that this moment of bliss would soon end (never to return)—while most of the other voices in his head clamored for the lone voice to shut-the-hell-up! so they could all enjoy the moment, for as long as it chose to last.
The space between
Where you smile and hide,
Is where you'll find me, if I hear you call
The space between
The bullets in our fire-fight
Is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you.
Spike could feel the words of this song (our song) resonate with an almost-physical vibration in his silent heart. He pulled away from her slightly so he could look her in the eye. Part of him screamed, No, no, don't ruin the moment—!, but there might never be another opportunity to say the words that pounded behind his eyeballs, demanding to escape into the free air.
"Buffy?" He could feel her tense slightly in his arms…she didn't know what to expect from him. She doesn't know what's coming? That's a first…
"Yeah?"
"Could I ask a favor?"
He watched the wheels spin as she thought that one over for a split second. "You can always ask…the worst I can do is say 'no,'" she replied seriously.
He had to grin a bit at that. Still doesn't *quite* trust me… he mused. Smart girl.
She was looking at him expectantly. He took a deep, unnecessary breath. "I just wanted to ask…please, don't…don't ever scare me again, the way you did last night?"
Her mouth opened just a bit, as if she wanted to reply, but didn't know what to say. He continued in a rush. "When I came in here last night, and saw you dancing in the smoke…all I could think was that you were going to die—again—and I wouldn't have been quick enough to stop it—again. The last time nearly killed me…if I hadn't promised you I'd look after the Nibblet, I probably would have just waited for the sunrise…"
Buffy felt a pang of…what? Guilt? Pleasure? Panic? "Spike, no—you couldn't…"
He gazed at her with bleak eyes. "I would have. And then last night, it haunted me, the idea that you might die, and the last thing I would have said was that I hoped you'd burn…" He had to stop and close his eyes to keep his voice from breaking. Moisture prickled insistently at the backs of his eyelids.
The rain that falls
Splashed in your heart,
Ran like sadness down the window into your room.
The space between
Our wicked lies
Is where we hope to keep safe from pain.
Is he crying? Ohmigod…he's really crying! Or, well…almost. Buffy was stunned. With each surprising new glimpse she got of Spike, she realized more and more that he did really care for her…and each time she tried to shrug that off, she came smack up against the uncomfortable fact that it mattered. If he honestly meant nothing to her, why would his feelings about her matter? It was almost too much to wrap her tired mind around, but obviously she…cared. About him. As a friend, of course—nothing more, she reminded herself defensively.
But in this moment, all she knew for certain was that her…friend…was in pain, and it was because of her. She reached up and touched his cool cheek with her fingertips. "Spike, please…look at me."
Unwillingly, he opened his eyes. She could see her own face reflected in his dark pupils, now too-shiny with the grief he couldn't voice. "I knew you didn't mean it, what you said—you were just angry. And I was too hurt by what Giles said…I just lashed out, and you didn't deserve it." She paused for an uncertain breath. "I may regret saying this later, but…it means a lot to me that I can always depend on you to watch my back," she admitted ruefully.
Take my hand,
'Cause we're walking out of here,
Right out of here.
Love is all we need, dear…
Spike had to close his eyes again. This was torture. Utterly precious and exquisite torture.
"I don't want to ruin the moment, pet, but…I need to know…" He tried to put words to what his heart yearned to know, words that wouldn't frighten her away once more. "I need to know what inspired this sudden about-face," he finally continued, striving for his usual matter-of-fact tone. "You despise me. You've said so—on several occasions. Then last night…and now this…" he trailed off uncertainly. Finally he gave up and just said, "Please, tell me what you're thinking, because I don't know what to think."
Well, nothing if not blunt… Buffy took a deep breath (I seem to do that a lot, around him) and took her turn at trying to explain the inexplicable twists and turns of her heart. "I keep going around in circles. Sometimes it feels like you're the only thing in my life that I can count on to never change, and then suddenly it seems like you're changing so fast, I can't keep up with you." She dropped her eyes from his. "I know that the…well, you know…last night wasn't…it didn't happen for the right reasons. And when that occurred to me, I realized that I…I haven't been fair to you, in any of the ways that matter."
She paused, uncertain. This is getting way serious… tonight was supposed to be fun and non-thinkingness, remember? Recklessly, she plunged on. "And I felt so guilty about that…but then I felt guilty about feeling guilty, because after all, you have tried to kill me quite a few times, but I know you've changed since then, which is good, because there are enough things always trying to kill me, and it's a lot less likely that one of them will succeed when you're helping me instead of helping them, and…"
Spike burst out in delighted laughter at her babbling. She's sounding more and more like her old self…bloody good to hear!
A smile twitched at the corner of her lips, but she refused to let it out. "Shut up—I'm trying to explain, here!" She swatted him on the chest, and tried to resume her train of thought when he'd quieted, but the train had pulled out of the station without her. Damn. She was left with nothing to fall back on…but the truth.
"Spike, I don't want to lead you on. I don't love you…" She couldn't look at him…she knew that his disappointment would be all-too-plain for her to read in his eyes. But she wasn't finished.
"…but, as much as I've tried to deny it, I'm beginning to realize that I do care." Now she did look up at him, just in time to watch the pain grow dim, washed away in a cascading wave of hope and delight. She couldn't help but grin in response. Then she closed the space between them again to rest her head once more on his shoulder.
"I don't know what—if anything—comes next, Spike," she admitted quietly. "But for now, I think…I think you're the best friend I've got."
The space between
What's wrong and right,
Is where you'll find me hiding,
Waiting for you.
If a vampire's heart suddenly started beating, Spike wondered, would that constitute a heart attack? He was quite certain that his own cool heart had just skipped several un-beats. He tilted his own head to rest against hers, and closed his eyes against the joy that flooded him. Best friend… "I could say the same for you, pet," he replied in a low voice.
True, it wasn't quite the declaration of undying love (literally?—she does have trouble staying dead…) that he ached to hear, but it was more than he ever thought he'd get…and it was enough to spark a burning hope that, with patience, more might follow. William the Bloody had won the friendship and trust of the Slayer…and for now, it was enough. The space between them dwindled, and finally evaporated completely as they held each other close, taking comfort in their newfound bond.
The space between
Your heart and mine,
Is the space we'll fill with time.
The space between…
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