Title: ACKNOWLEDGE ME! (1/1) by Bonnie
Author: Bonnie
Email: bondav40@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Buffy needs to recognize Spike or lose him. (Instead of "As You Were" and lightening up Buffy's self-loathing about the relationship. Also reuniting T &W.)
Disclaimer: Based on characters not created by me.
"Will you stand above me?
Look my way but never love me?
Rain keeps fallin'
Rain keeps fallin' down."
Will you recognize me?
Call my name or walk on by?
Rain keeps fallin'
Rain keeps fallin' down."
"Don't You Forget About Me" – Simple Minds
Spike entered the Bronze and, scanning the room, quickly located Buffy and Co. at a back table: Xander and Anya in heated debate; Dawn making eyes at some guy across the room; Willow and Tara, back together again and acting all moony; and the Slayer herself and.....who was that guy? And why was he leaning in toward Buffy and talking in her ear? Too close! Too close! Spike's eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, and nostrils flared with suppressed rage. He nonchalantly sauntered across the room toward them, snatching a drink off someone's table on the way past.
"Hey all. What's up?" He pulled a chair over and straddled it, insinuating himself between Tara and Dawn.
"Hey, Spike!" Little Bit smacked his arm, playfully. "I haven't seen you in ages. You like my new hair?" She turned her back toward him so he could see the myriad tiny braids adorning her head. "My friend, Janice did it. Isn't it cool? It took hours, well partly because she kept undoing and redoing it...." Dawn prattled on and Spike smiled and nodded while keeping an eye firmly fixed on the flirting blonde across the table. Damn Slayer hadn't even acknowledged his presence. She just kept laughing at whatever that bloody git was whispering in her ear.
"That's it! No more! We're eloping," Xander exploded as he and Anya's argument escalated to the breaking point. "No demons. No relatives. Just us."
"Xander, don't be ridiculous. The hall is rented. My dress is almost paid for. The florist...the caterer.....It's far too late to back out now!"
"Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?" Spike teased.
"Shut up, Spike," they turned on him in stereo.
"Uh, Dawn," Tara intercepted, giving the teenager an expressive look. "Maybe you'd like to ask Spike for a dance."
"Oh. Oh, sure." Dawn jumped up and pulled on the vamp's arm. "Come on. Show me how an old geezer like you cuts a rug." She dragged him onto the dance floor, and when he glanced back at the table he noted with satisfaction that Buffy had looked up from her date long enough to watch them go.
They danced with breathless abandon. He taught her all the swing moves he had learned so long ago. For a few songs, they held sway over the dance floor, then a slow number came up and he ushered her, sweating and laughing, over to the bar for a soda.
"So, who's the poof?" he casually asked, nodding toward the Scoobies' table. The dark haired Ken doll of a guy was still leaning toward Buffy, but now his arm was draped along the top of her chair. He leaned back, laughing, showing a perfect set of pearly whites that Spike felt he would like to destroy with a baseball bat.
"Oh, that's Ken. (What irony, Spike thought) He's Buffy's new....friend. She met him in the class she's been taking on Wednesday nights."
"College boy, eh."
"Yup. Hey, did I tell you about how I'm gonna redecorate my room? I picked this shade of blue, not royal but more like periwinkle, and it'll be accented by....." She was off again and Spike had only to smile and toss in an occasional "Really?" to keep her happy.
His attention turned back to "his" Slayer, rising to dance now with Mr. Plastic. A slow dance. Oh great! Just what he needed, to see her luscious body gyrating in sensuous rhythms and....and pressing up against this uninvited stranger. And still she refused to look toward Spike – to make any eye contact at all. Hah! She must feel guilty. She should feel guilty!
"Are you listening to me at all?" Dawn rapped on his forehead with her knuckles. He started and grinned, sheepishly.
"Uh, yeah. New room. Great color scheme. Possible flower motif. Got it."
Dawn sighed and paused, choosing her words carefully. "That guy. It's not as bad as it looks. She barely knows him. It's just an evening out. Not to worry."
"What are you talking about?" he protested, unconvincingly.
"Come on, Spike. I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday....or whatever. You think I don't know what you and my sister are up to?"
"Um."
"I've had sex ed. Also, Buffy acts completely different around you than she used to. In the old days she would yell at you and beat you up, now she pretends you don't exist. That's a sure sign something's going on. Did I tell you about John Mahoney? I let him kiss me under the bleachers once – just one time – I didn't even let him feel me up – and right away he started ignoring me. Just wouldn't talk to me any more at all."
"Feel you up! What have you been getting up to, Miss Dawn? A little hanky- panky behind sis' back?"
"I said I DIDN'T let him feel me up. And you're missing the point here, so listen. Sometimes people just....treat you crappy...when they're embarrassed."
"Embarrassed. Right. I feel so much better knowing I'm an embarrassment."
"Forget it. I don't know why I bother trying to counsel you." Dawn sighed with disgust, got up, picked up her drink and headed back to the table. Spike downed the rest of his whiskey in a gulp, slammed the glass down, stalked to the door and slipped out into the night. If he had looked back, he might have caught Buffy's hungry eyes over her dance partner's shoulder.
**************
After a week and a half of no-Buffy-contact, Spike couldn't take it any more. He plucked a barely wilted bouquet off a grave and went to lurk under the tree in her front yard, waiting for her arrival home as the hour grew later and later. She must have stopped somewhere after her class. He should probably go to the Bronze if he wanted to catch her. No. He should stay here or he might miss her. His thoughts ran pointlessly like hamsters in a wheel, and he chain-smoked a pack of cigarettes as his anger mounted.
"Bloody stalker. That's what I am," he berated himself. "Right back to the beginning again." He remembered all the nights he had taken up this same post – watching Buffy and Riley come and go. Watching the light in her bedroom be replaced by romantic candlelight, and envisioning every detail of what went on in her bed. Only now it was far worse. Now he knew exactly what he was missing and what some other guy might be getting.
Nourishing his jealous fantasies, his temper had reached a peak by the time Buffy stepped out of a sleek convertible driven by none other than Plastic Ken. The Living Doll scurried around to her side of the car, but was too late to help her out.
"I would've opened your door for you," he laughed.
"That's so sweet," she cooed. "Well, maybe you can help me with my front door."
"And the one between my legs," Spike mimicked, his face shimmering between human and demon. "You shouldn't have any trouble opening that one!"
Still talking animatedly, the young man led the way up the porch steps, and, taking Buffy's key, unlocked the door for her. They stood on the porch talking awhile longer, their words too faint for the vampire to catch, then the boy leaned in for the goodnight kiss.
A low growl rumbled from Spike's throat and he morphed completely into his demon self. It was a chaste kiss by Buffy/Spike standards, just a peck really, no more than a brush of mouth to mouth, but it was bestowed on someone other than himself. With all his willpower Spike forced himself farther back into the shadow of the tree. This is not the time or the place, he cautioned himself. You confront her now. You lose what little of her you have.
So he watched patiently while Buffy stepped into the house and her young man jumped, whistling, into his car and drove off. Then he cast down the flowers he had brought and strode home, muttering to himself all the way. He missed the sway of curtains in the front window that betrayed Buffy's presence there, watching him watch her. She came out of the house again, after he was safely gone, and went over to pick up the sad flowers. A funeral bouquet – how typical, she smiled and shook her head.
***************
"Spike, I could use your help." Buffy slammed the door wide and invaded his home in her usual aggressive manner a few nights later. He muted the TV and looked up inquiringly, cool as a cucumber.
"Evil to fight? Or do you just have an itch needs scratching?"
"The first one. Bring all your weapons and meet me at the Magic Box." She turned to leave, then stopped and looked back, hesitating.
"What?"
"That guy, Ken, I've been seeing. You know, you and I don't have any kind of agreement. I have a right to go out with whoever I want. You know that, right."
"No one said you couldn't, luv."
"Well, I saw you the other night. You looked kind of.....jealous."
Spike considered saying, 'Who? Me jealous?' but opted for the truth. "Did you think I wouldn't be?" he said quietly.
Buffy sighed, folded her arms and tapped a foot.
"Look. We've had some incredible sex. I don't deny it. But good sex does not a relationship make."
"I know."
"I mean, you have to do other things besides sleep together to be in a relationship."
"We fight."
She shook her head. "No. Everyday people things. Like movies or dinner. Talking is good."
"Acknowledging me to your friends would also be a good beginning," he said, getting into the swing of it.
"No. Not that. That would not be good," she said firmly.
He looked down, nodding his head. The silence in the room hung like a dead weight for a few moments, then he rose and crossed the room to face the petite girl. His blue eyes gazed down into hers with intensity.
"I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" He spoke as though the realization had finally dawned on him. "No matter how long this fuck-fest drags on, it's not going to wear down your defenses or change your mind about me. You're really hung up on the 'soul' thing, aren't you?"
Buffy dropped her eyes before the naked pain in his. "I just....I don't....." she searched for words that could make it better.
Spike waited for some kind of hope, but she was able to give none. He nodded again.
"This is it, then." his voice was hard and cold. "I'll help you with the fighting. I got nothing better to do and it's a kick, but....don't come around here any more for anything else. And I won't be hanging around in your front yard either, or running into you here and there around town. It ends now."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you all along," she said lightly. "It's fine with me. Perfect, in fact."
"All right then. I'll get my weapons." He turned away from her and she felt the lack of his presence like a sudden and unexpected amputation. His silence was glacial as they walked together to the Magic Box to meet up with the Scoobies. During the evening's battle he backed her every move as always, dispatching demons with a workmanlike competence but no fire. And when the scrap was over, he faded off into the night.
"It's what I wanted," Buffy reassured herself, as she lay down in bed that night. She grabbed an extra pillow and hugged it close. "It's for the best." And she lay hour after hour, staring dry-eyed off into space.
*************
"Dawnie, could you come here a minute," Buffy called upstairs the next day after arriving home from work.
"What's up?" her sister asked, thumping down the stairs, her new 'do waving on her head – the theme was clots of giant ringlets this time.
"I want to throw a party for our friends. Just the regular gang, plus anyone you want to invite from school, but let's do it up nice. Hors'd'ouvres and cocktails – kiddie ones for you I'm afraid – then dinner. Maybe a theme. You like themes. Think of something snazzy."
"Sure!" Dawn said enthusiastically. "Maybe Hawaiian!"
"Great. I have to get ready for class tonight, so I'll leave all the planning to you. Let me know what you need for supplies tomorrow and I'll invite everyone for this Saturday. (pause) And, Dawn? When you ask your friends, could you....invite Spike? I don't think he'd come if I asked right now."
"Oh." Dawn smiled knowingly. "Now this whole 'party' thing makes sense."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Buffy said airily.
"Yes you do." She chanted in a sing-song voice, "You like him. He likes you. But you've treated him like crap. Now you go some making up to do. Hey, I made a rhyme!"
Buffy rolled her eyes and rushed off to her room to shower and change, calling over her shoulder, "Just plan the damn party."
*************
Party night arrived and most of the guests entered into the spirit of the '1940's movie stars' theme Dawn had chosen. She and her girlfriends had their hair in upswept 'dos, glamour make-up, and vintage '40s styles they had begged off Janice's grandma. They labeled themselves Rita Hayworth, Betty Grable and Bette Davis, without any idea of whether they actually resembled the actresses. Big band music jazzed on the stereo and old movie posters graced the walls.
Xander, looking very dapper, and Anya, elegantly clad, arrived dressed as Bogie and Bacall. Willow and Tara had missed the change in party theme and came in hula skirts and leis with flowers in their hair. Buffy circled the room compulsively rearranging hors'd'ouvres, plumping couch pillows, and asking if anyone needed their drink refreshed. She had worn a simple black skirt and white blouse and pinned her hair up in a french twist.
"Who are you supposed to be," Dawn demanded, hands on hips, regarding her sister's lack of costume.
"Um.....Katherine Hepburn?" Buffy said desperately, picking up crumpled napkins and wiping at a wet ring on the coffee table. Dawn stepped in close and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry. He'll show." "That's what I'm afraid of," Buffy hissed back.
Just then the front bell rang. Buffy swallowed nervously, and Dawn muttered in delight, "Show time." As the Buffster froze, Dawn rolled her eyes and said, "I'll get it."
She opened the door to reveal Spike in all his black-caped, opera clothes glory on their front porch. She giggled delightedly and pulled the platinum-haired vamp into the house.
"This is great! Where'd you get the clothes? Who are you?"
"Bela Lugosi." He drew the cape up before his face with one arm. "Draah- cula!"
Dawn, took the cape, then grabbed his hand and tugged him over to a chair. "Sit! I'll bring you horses' doovers."
Buffy ducked into the kitchen to microwave Spike's special Bloody Mary. "This is it, girl. No turning back," she pep-talked herself. "Just go out there and do it. Now! Go! Move!" she ordered her feet.
As she walked toward the handsome man in his beautiful black evening clothes, all the sound in the room seemed to fade to a dull roar. The voices of her friends, and the beat of the music blended together into a backdrop for her thumping heart. In slow motion, she saw him look up at her approach, saw her hand extend out with his drink and his hand accept it.
"Th-thanks for coming. It....it means a lot.....to Dawn," she stammered.
His eyes slid away from hers and scanned the room as he placed the drink on a table. "Yeah. Well, I didn't want to disappoint Little Bit. She was pretty excited about her 'theme'." he said, casually.
Buffy took a deep breath. "It means a lot to me, too," she said in a rush. "As a matter of fact, I kind of threw this party for you."
His eyes snapped back to her face and he lifted a brow.
She squirmed under his gaze. "You're not making this easy!" she accused. "No. Wait. That's not what I meant..." Another shaky breath. "Okay. Here's the deal. I want to apologize and if it's not too late...I....I....Oh, what the hell!" She leaned over and, pinning Spike to the chair, administered a hard, deep, full-on kiss.
Pulling back, breathless, Buffy said, "So, what do you think?"
"I....think....good....," he mumbled, looking dazed.
"Great! So you're my date for the evening?" He nodded dumbly. She perched on the arm of his chair and pulled his hand into her own, intertwining their fingers, then looked up defiantly toward her friends.
Except for the music the room had fallen silent. Buffy met each of her friends' eyes in turn. Tara, who already knew about her secret relationship, gave her a reassuring smile. Willow stared until Tara poked her sharply in the side. Her mouth snapped shut and she smiled weakly. "Well....good for you...with all the smoochies and all. Looks like you're...really into Spike there. And here we thought he was just into you. No! That's not what we thought – at least not the way it sounded...." She looked to Tara, "Help?"
"Congratulations," Tara said, calmly.
"What she said," Anya nodded emphatically in agreement. "I think the more mixed couples there are in the world, the more we can all just get along!"
Xander rose from his seat, pushing Anya off his lap. His eyes were dark thunder and his mouth a tight line. "How could...." he began, but Buffy cut him off.
"Before you say something that could hurt our friendship....DON'T." She squeezed Spike's hand firmly for reassurance, then continued. "You're like a brother to me, Xander. You know that. But this is MY life. My choice. So just........."
"Bugger off," Spike supplied softly.
"Yeah. Do that."
At this point, Dawn and her pals burst into giggles.
"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say there was going to be a show here tonight?" Dawn punched Janice in the arm.
"Man, I wish I lived at your house," her friend answered. "Nothing exciting ever happens at mine."
"So, I still don't get it," their new friend, Tina, interjected. "What's wrong with him that her friends hate him? He looks hot to me."
"Uh – he's got this, like, genetic flaw and everyone's afraid their babies would be deformed," Dawn invented quickly.
"Babies! Now there's a concept," Xander said bitterly. "Have you thought ahead at all, Buff?"
"Nope! I'm done thinking ahead. I'm just pretty much here in the now...now," she replied.
"Xander. Dance with me," Anya ordered, grabbing his hand and leading him away from the confrontation. He cast one last disapproving look at Buffy over Anya's shoulder as they danced, then shook his head, and offered her a conciliatory smile.
Tara winked at Buffy, and Willow bestowed a little grin, then they went back to their own conversation, while the teenagers went to fill their plates with more snacks.
The Slayer released her death grip on Spike's hand and, sighing, slid from the arm of the chair onto his lap. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her head down to his lips with the other hand. But instead of a kiss, he said, "That was a bloody brave thing you did. Bravest thing I've ever seen."
"Yeah. It was kinda," she agreed, smiling. She snuggled further down and rested her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence, listening to an old ballad crooned by Ray Charles.
"You give your hand to me and then you say hello.
And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so.
And anyone can tell, you think you know me well.
But you don't know me.
No you don't know the one who dreams of you at night.
Who longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight.
Oh, I am just a friend, that's all I've ever been.
Cause, you don't know me."
"That's the saddest song I ever heard. I'm getting depressed," Buffy sniffed.
Spike smiled and chucked her off his lap. "Then, I think it's time to dance."
He stood up, and clasping her in his arms, guided her gracefully around the floor.
"For I never learned the art of making love,
though my heart burns with love for you.
Alone and shy, I let my chance go by.
The chance that you might love me, too.
You give your hand to me, and then you say goodbye.
I watch you walk away, beside the lucky guy.
And you will never know the one who loves you so,
Cause you don't know me."
"You Don't Know Me" – Ray Charles
As the last strains of the song faded, Buffy lifted her face for a kiss, glad that her lover had not been too shy to declare himself and that she had – finally- taken up the challenge and claimed him for her own.
END
Author: Bonnie
Email: bondav40@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Summary: Buffy needs to recognize Spike or lose him. (Instead of "As You Were" and lightening up Buffy's self-loathing about the relationship. Also reuniting T &W.)
Disclaimer: Based on characters not created by me.
"Will you stand above me?
Look my way but never love me?
Rain keeps fallin'
Rain keeps fallin' down."
Will you recognize me?
Call my name or walk on by?
Rain keeps fallin'
Rain keeps fallin' down."
"Don't You Forget About Me" – Simple Minds
Spike entered the Bronze and, scanning the room, quickly located Buffy and Co. at a back table: Xander and Anya in heated debate; Dawn making eyes at some guy across the room; Willow and Tara, back together again and acting all moony; and the Slayer herself and.....who was that guy? And why was he leaning in toward Buffy and talking in her ear? Too close! Too close! Spike's eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, and nostrils flared with suppressed rage. He nonchalantly sauntered across the room toward them, snatching a drink off someone's table on the way past.
"Hey all. What's up?" He pulled a chair over and straddled it, insinuating himself between Tara and Dawn.
"Hey, Spike!" Little Bit smacked his arm, playfully. "I haven't seen you in ages. You like my new hair?" She turned her back toward him so he could see the myriad tiny braids adorning her head. "My friend, Janice did it. Isn't it cool? It took hours, well partly because she kept undoing and redoing it...." Dawn prattled on and Spike smiled and nodded while keeping an eye firmly fixed on the flirting blonde across the table. Damn Slayer hadn't even acknowledged his presence. She just kept laughing at whatever that bloody git was whispering in her ear.
"That's it! No more! We're eloping," Xander exploded as he and Anya's argument escalated to the breaking point. "No demons. No relatives. Just us."
"Xander, don't be ridiculous. The hall is rented. My dress is almost paid for. The florist...the caterer.....It's far too late to back out now!"
"Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?" Spike teased.
"Shut up, Spike," they turned on him in stereo.
"Uh, Dawn," Tara intercepted, giving the teenager an expressive look. "Maybe you'd like to ask Spike for a dance."
"Oh. Oh, sure." Dawn jumped up and pulled on the vamp's arm. "Come on. Show me how an old geezer like you cuts a rug." She dragged him onto the dance floor, and when he glanced back at the table he noted with satisfaction that Buffy had looked up from her date long enough to watch them go.
They danced with breathless abandon. He taught her all the swing moves he had learned so long ago. For a few songs, they held sway over the dance floor, then a slow number came up and he ushered her, sweating and laughing, over to the bar for a soda.
"So, who's the poof?" he casually asked, nodding toward the Scoobies' table. The dark haired Ken doll of a guy was still leaning toward Buffy, but now his arm was draped along the top of her chair. He leaned back, laughing, showing a perfect set of pearly whites that Spike felt he would like to destroy with a baseball bat.
"Oh, that's Ken. (What irony, Spike thought) He's Buffy's new....friend. She met him in the class she's been taking on Wednesday nights."
"College boy, eh."
"Yup. Hey, did I tell you about how I'm gonna redecorate my room? I picked this shade of blue, not royal but more like periwinkle, and it'll be accented by....." She was off again and Spike had only to smile and toss in an occasional "Really?" to keep her happy.
His attention turned back to "his" Slayer, rising to dance now with Mr. Plastic. A slow dance. Oh great! Just what he needed, to see her luscious body gyrating in sensuous rhythms and....and pressing up against this uninvited stranger. And still she refused to look toward Spike – to make any eye contact at all. Hah! She must feel guilty. She should feel guilty!
"Are you listening to me at all?" Dawn rapped on his forehead with her knuckles. He started and grinned, sheepishly.
"Uh, yeah. New room. Great color scheme. Possible flower motif. Got it."
Dawn sighed and paused, choosing her words carefully. "That guy. It's not as bad as it looks. She barely knows him. It's just an evening out. Not to worry."
"What are you talking about?" he protested, unconvincingly.
"Come on, Spike. I didn't fall off the turnip truck yesterday....or whatever. You think I don't know what you and my sister are up to?"
"Um."
"I've had sex ed. Also, Buffy acts completely different around you than she used to. In the old days she would yell at you and beat you up, now she pretends you don't exist. That's a sure sign something's going on. Did I tell you about John Mahoney? I let him kiss me under the bleachers once – just one time – I didn't even let him feel me up – and right away he started ignoring me. Just wouldn't talk to me any more at all."
"Feel you up! What have you been getting up to, Miss Dawn? A little hanky- panky behind sis' back?"
"I said I DIDN'T let him feel me up. And you're missing the point here, so listen. Sometimes people just....treat you crappy...when they're embarrassed."
"Embarrassed. Right. I feel so much better knowing I'm an embarrassment."
"Forget it. I don't know why I bother trying to counsel you." Dawn sighed with disgust, got up, picked up her drink and headed back to the table. Spike downed the rest of his whiskey in a gulp, slammed the glass down, stalked to the door and slipped out into the night. If he had looked back, he might have caught Buffy's hungry eyes over her dance partner's shoulder.
**************
After a week and a half of no-Buffy-contact, Spike couldn't take it any more. He plucked a barely wilted bouquet off a grave and went to lurk under the tree in her front yard, waiting for her arrival home as the hour grew later and later. She must have stopped somewhere after her class. He should probably go to the Bronze if he wanted to catch her. No. He should stay here or he might miss her. His thoughts ran pointlessly like hamsters in a wheel, and he chain-smoked a pack of cigarettes as his anger mounted.
"Bloody stalker. That's what I am," he berated himself. "Right back to the beginning again." He remembered all the nights he had taken up this same post – watching Buffy and Riley come and go. Watching the light in her bedroom be replaced by romantic candlelight, and envisioning every detail of what went on in her bed. Only now it was far worse. Now he knew exactly what he was missing and what some other guy might be getting.
Nourishing his jealous fantasies, his temper had reached a peak by the time Buffy stepped out of a sleek convertible driven by none other than Plastic Ken. The Living Doll scurried around to her side of the car, but was too late to help her out.
"I would've opened your door for you," he laughed.
"That's so sweet," she cooed. "Well, maybe you can help me with my front door."
"And the one between my legs," Spike mimicked, his face shimmering between human and demon. "You shouldn't have any trouble opening that one!"
Still talking animatedly, the young man led the way up the porch steps, and, taking Buffy's key, unlocked the door for her. They stood on the porch talking awhile longer, their words too faint for the vampire to catch, then the boy leaned in for the goodnight kiss.
A low growl rumbled from Spike's throat and he morphed completely into his demon self. It was a chaste kiss by Buffy/Spike standards, just a peck really, no more than a brush of mouth to mouth, but it was bestowed on someone other than himself. With all his willpower Spike forced himself farther back into the shadow of the tree. This is not the time or the place, he cautioned himself. You confront her now. You lose what little of her you have.
So he watched patiently while Buffy stepped into the house and her young man jumped, whistling, into his car and drove off. Then he cast down the flowers he had brought and strode home, muttering to himself all the way. He missed the sway of curtains in the front window that betrayed Buffy's presence there, watching him watch her. She came out of the house again, after he was safely gone, and went over to pick up the sad flowers. A funeral bouquet – how typical, she smiled and shook her head.
***************
"Spike, I could use your help." Buffy slammed the door wide and invaded his home in her usual aggressive manner a few nights later. He muted the TV and looked up inquiringly, cool as a cucumber.
"Evil to fight? Or do you just have an itch needs scratching?"
"The first one. Bring all your weapons and meet me at the Magic Box." She turned to leave, then stopped and looked back, hesitating.
"What?"
"That guy, Ken, I've been seeing. You know, you and I don't have any kind of agreement. I have a right to go out with whoever I want. You know that, right."
"No one said you couldn't, luv."
"Well, I saw you the other night. You looked kind of.....jealous."
Spike considered saying, 'Who? Me jealous?' but opted for the truth. "Did you think I wouldn't be?" he said quietly.
Buffy sighed, folded her arms and tapped a foot.
"Look. We've had some incredible sex. I don't deny it. But good sex does not a relationship make."
"I know."
"I mean, you have to do other things besides sleep together to be in a relationship."
"We fight."
She shook her head. "No. Everyday people things. Like movies or dinner. Talking is good."
"Acknowledging me to your friends would also be a good beginning," he said, getting into the swing of it.
"No. Not that. That would not be good," she said firmly.
He looked down, nodding his head. The silence in the room hung like a dead weight for a few moments, then he rose and crossed the room to face the petite girl. His blue eyes gazed down into hers with intensity.
"I'm never going to be good enough for you, am I?" He spoke as though the realization had finally dawned on him. "No matter how long this fuck-fest drags on, it's not going to wear down your defenses or change your mind about me. You're really hung up on the 'soul' thing, aren't you?"
Buffy dropped her eyes before the naked pain in his. "I just....I don't....." she searched for words that could make it better.
Spike waited for some kind of hope, but she was able to give none. He nodded again.
"This is it, then." his voice was hard and cold. "I'll help you with the fighting. I got nothing better to do and it's a kick, but....don't come around here any more for anything else. And I won't be hanging around in your front yard either, or running into you here and there around town. It ends now."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you all along," she said lightly. "It's fine with me. Perfect, in fact."
"All right then. I'll get my weapons." He turned away from her and she felt the lack of his presence like a sudden and unexpected amputation. His silence was glacial as they walked together to the Magic Box to meet up with the Scoobies. During the evening's battle he backed her every move as always, dispatching demons with a workmanlike competence but no fire. And when the scrap was over, he faded off into the night.
"It's what I wanted," Buffy reassured herself, as she lay down in bed that night. She grabbed an extra pillow and hugged it close. "It's for the best." And she lay hour after hour, staring dry-eyed off into space.
*************
"Dawnie, could you come here a minute," Buffy called upstairs the next day after arriving home from work.
"What's up?" her sister asked, thumping down the stairs, her new 'do waving on her head – the theme was clots of giant ringlets this time.
"I want to throw a party for our friends. Just the regular gang, plus anyone you want to invite from school, but let's do it up nice. Hors'd'ouvres and cocktails – kiddie ones for you I'm afraid – then dinner. Maybe a theme. You like themes. Think of something snazzy."
"Sure!" Dawn said enthusiastically. "Maybe Hawaiian!"
"Great. I have to get ready for class tonight, so I'll leave all the planning to you. Let me know what you need for supplies tomorrow and I'll invite everyone for this Saturday. (pause) And, Dawn? When you ask your friends, could you....invite Spike? I don't think he'd come if I asked right now."
"Oh." Dawn smiled knowingly. "Now this whole 'party' thing makes sense."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Buffy said airily.
"Yes you do." She chanted in a sing-song voice, "You like him. He likes you. But you've treated him like crap. Now you go some making up to do. Hey, I made a rhyme!"
Buffy rolled her eyes and rushed off to her room to shower and change, calling over her shoulder, "Just plan the damn party."
*************
Party night arrived and most of the guests entered into the spirit of the '1940's movie stars' theme Dawn had chosen. She and her girlfriends had their hair in upswept 'dos, glamour make-up, and vintage '40s styles they had begged off Janice's grandma. They labeled themselves Rita Hayworth, Betty Grable and Bette Davis, without any idea of whether they actually resembled the actresses. Big band music jazzed on the stereo and old movie posters graced the walls.
Xander, looking very dapper, and Anya, elegantly clad, arrived dressed as Bogie and Bacall. Willow and Tara had missed the change in party theme and came in hula skirts and leis with flowers in their hair. Buffy circled the room compulsively rearranging hors'd'ouvres, plumping couch pillows, and asking if anyone needed their drink refreshed. She had worn a simple black skirt and white blouse and pinned her hair up in a french twist.
"Who are you supposed to be," Dawn demanded, hands on hips, regarding her sister's lack of costume.
"Um.....Katherine Hepburn?" Buffy said desperately, picking up crumpled napkins and wiping at a wet ring on the coffee table. Dawn stepped in close and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry. He'll show." "That's what I'm afraid of," Buffy hissed back.
Just then the front bell rang. Buffy swallowed nervously, and Dawn muttered in delight, "Show time." As the Buffster froze, Dawn rolled her eyes and said, "I'll get it."
She opened the door to reveal Spike in all his black-caped, opera clothes glory on their front porch. She giggled delightedly and pulled the platinum-haired vamp into the house.
"This is great! Where'd you get the clothes? Who are you?"
"Bela Lugosi." He drew the cape up before his face with one arm. "Draah- cula!"
Dawn, took the cape, then grabbed his hand and tugged him over to a chair. "Sit! I'll bring you horses' doovers."
Buffy ducked into the kitchen to microwave Spike's special Bloody Mary. "This is it, girl. No turning back," she pep-talked herself. "Just go out there and do it. Now! Go! Move!" she ordered her feet.
As she walked toward the handsome man in his beautiful black evening clothes, all the sound in the room seemed to fade to a dull roar. The voices of her friends, and the beat of the music blended together into a backdrop for her thumping heart. In slow motion, she saw him look up at her approach, saw her hand extend out with his drink and his hand accept it.
"Th-thanks for coming. It....it means a lot.....to Dawn," she stammered.
His eyes slid away from hers and scanned the room as he placed the drink on a table. "Yeah. Well, I didn't want to disappoint Little Bit. She was pretty excited about her 'theme'." he said, casually.
Buffy took a deep breath. "It means a lot to me, too," she said in a rush. "As a matter of fact, I kind of threw this party for you."
His eyes snapped back to her face and he lifted a brow.
She squirmed under his gaze. "You're not making this easy!" she accused. "No. Wait. That's not what I meant..." Another shaky breath. "Okay. Here's the deal. I want to apologize and if it's not too late...I....I....Oh, what the hell!" She leaned over and, pinning Spike to the chair, administered a hard, deep, full-on kiss.
Pulling back, breathless, Buffy said, "So, what do you think?"
"I....think....good....," he mumbled, looking dazed.
"Great! So you're my date for the evening?" He nodded dumbly. She perched on the arm of his chair and pulled his hand into her own, intertwining their fingers, then looked up defiantly toward her friends.
Except for the music the room had fallen silent. Buffy met each of her friends' eyes in turn. Tara, who already knew about her secret relationship, gave her a reassuring smile. Willow stared until Tara poked her sharply in the side. Her mouth snapped shut and she smiled weakly. "Well....good for you...with all the smoochies and all. Looks like you're...really into Spike there. And here we thought he was just into you. No! That's not what we thought – at least not the way it sounded...." She looked to Tara, "Help?"
"Congratulations," Tara said, calmly.
"What she said," Anya nodded emphatically in agreement. "I think the more mixed couples there are in the world, the more we can all just get along!"
Xander rose from his seat, pushing Anya off his lap. His eyes were dark thunder and his mouth a tight line. "How could...." he began, but Buffy cut him off.
"Before you say something that could hurt our friendship....DON'T." She squeezed Spike's hand firmly for reassurance, then continued. "You're like a brother to me, Xander. You know that. But this is MY life. My choice. So just........."
"Bugger off," Spike supplied softly.
"Yeah. Do that."
At this point, Dawn and her pals burst into giggles.
"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say there was going to be a show here tonight?" Dawn punched Janice in the arm.
"Man, I wish I lived at your house," her friend answered. "Nothing exciting ever happens at mine."
"So, I still don't get it," their new friend, Tina, interjected. "What's wrong with him that her friends hate him? He looks hot to me."
"Uh – he's got this, like, genetic flaw and everyone's afraid their babies would be deformed," Dawn invented quickly.
"Babies! Now there's a concept," Xander said bitterly. "Have you thought ahead at all, Buff?"
"Nope! I'm done thinking ahead. I'm just pretty much here in the now...now," she replied.
"Xander. Dance with me," Anya ordered, grabbing his hand and leading him away from the confrontation. He cast one last disapproving look at Buffy over Anya's shoulder as they danced, then shook his head, and offered her a conciliatory smile.
Tara winked at Buffy, and Willow bestowed a little grin, then they went back to their own conversation, while the teenagers went to fill their plates with more snacks.
The Slayer released her death grip on Spike's hand and, sighing, slid from the arm of the chair onto his lap. He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her head down to his lips with the other hand. But instead of a kiss, he said, "That was a bloody brave thing you did. Bravest thing I've ever seen."
"Yeah. It was kinda," she agreed, smiling. She snuggled further down and rested her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence, listening to an old ballad crooned by Ray Charles.
"You give your hand to me and then you say hello.
And I can hardly speak, my heart is beating so.
And anyone can tell, you think you know me well.
But you don't know me.
No you don't know the one who dreams of you at night.
Who longs to kiss your lips and longs to hold you tight.
Oh, I am just a friend, that's all I've ever been.
Cause, you don't know me."
"That's the saddest song I ever heard. I'm getting depressed," Buffy sniffed.
Spike smiled and chucked her off his lap. "Then, I think it's time to dance."
He stood up, and clasping her in his arms, guided her gracefully around the floor.
"For I never learned the art of making love,
though my heart burns with love for you.
Alone and shy, I let my chance go by.
The chance that you might love me, too.
You give your hand to me, and then you say goodbye.
I watch you walk away, beside the lucky guy.
And you will never know the one who loves you so,
Cause you don't know me."
"You Don't Know Me" – Ray Charles
As the last strains of the song faded, Buffy lifted her face for a kiss, glad that her lover had not been too shy to declare himself and that she had – finally- taken up the challenge and claimed him for her own.
END