Have fun.
~Star Mouse
@ @ @
Buffy looked up from the television. There had been some sort of crash from the kitchen. Not that it took much of an excuse to pry her eyes from Passions.
"Spike?"
"'S okay, luv. Dropped a pan."
She turned back to the screen, tried to figure out why two people that had hated each other when she had looked away were now in a furious liplock. "Why do you even have a pan? It's not like you have to heat your blood on the stove when you have that microwave."
"Dunno, really. Had it ages. Thought I'd make us eggs."
Buffy got up and wandered over into the part of the crypt designated 'kitchen.' One Microwave. One tiny refrigerator. One cabinet, which apparently housed a pan. Spike was standing by the fridge, egg in hand, looking as if he had just realized that he needed a stove to fry it on. It was actually quite cute. She wished she had a camera.
Instead, she struck the annoyed amusement girlfriend pose, and said, "And where do we think we will cook it?"
Spike looked up at her, and that was all it took to remind her, once again, why she had allowed herself to get involved with a vampire. Again. He rolled the egg around on his fingertips, biting the corner of his lower lip. "I suppose I could build a fire..."
Buffy decided she should put a stop to this right now. She had done some illicit research in Giles's books about this particular vampire. Plus, they had been together long enough that she had learned from her own experience that Spike didn't tend to let go of an idea if he was set on it. Better to nip it in the bud.
"I don't like eggs," she said. It seemed like the best way to dissuade him. Now, distraction. Um... "Do you think I'd like blood? I've never actually tried it, and I'd kinda like to know what all the fuss is about."
Spike dropped the egg. They both lurched forward to catch it. Both their hands ended up directly beneath it, but Buffy's was higher, and the egg fell into her palm. Her fingers closed around it.
"Slayer, are you daft? Blood's only for us undead twerps. You'd not fancy it, once you tried it."
"I dunno," she said teasingly. "It could be an interesting
experience. I could tell all my friends--" She stopped. #$%@.
Slip of the tongue, slit of the wrists...Damn damn damn. She hadn't meant to bring that up. One look at Spike, one look into his eyes, one glance at his hands --the true windows to his, for lack of a better word, soul-- betrayed his sudden wary ire.
"Yeh," he said. "Tell all your friends. Tell em where you snagged the blood, too, if you think of it." He replaced the pan in the cabinet. He didn't face her again.
"Spike... You know how they feel about undead ghoulies. Can you imagine how they'd react to me dating one? Again?"
"'M not Peaches."
$%& again. He hated it when she mentioned her other excursion into the world of undead dating.
"I know, I know," she soothed. "But the fact that you guys are so closely connected is just weird. And, well, my friends didn't really have the best time dealing with my choice of guy. Especially Xander. I don't like keeping all of this a secret, either. But I think we have to. For now."
Spike turned. He was angry. Not scary, 'oh God, he's gonna kill me' angry, but frustrated, annoyed, 'boyfriend in the dark' anger.
"That's the problem. You've gotto tell um sometime. If we're gonna keep at this." It was a question. This had turned into a discussion of their future, when she wasn't looking.
"I want to," she rushed to reassure him. "I want to keep doing this. Being with you. You're the best boyfriend ever."
"And I'd not fancy an end to this, either, luv. But that's what you're planning on."
She opened her mouth to protest, and he waved his hand, like he could brush her words aside.
"'S true. So long's we're hiding in shadows, it won't be so hard to end. If we're going to be together for any conceivable future, then your friends will need to know about it. So long as they don't, it's like you're counting on breaking it off before they figure it out for themselves."
Crap. He was doing that thing. The one where he's being just big bad-vampire~y enough to be sexy, and just human enough to be adorable. Like a Hell's Angel with a child-seat on the back of his bike. She couldn't resist that thing.
"I'll tell them. We'll introduce you. This week. I promise. I'll call a Scoobie meeting. It'll be great."
Spike stepped closer and tilted her chin up into a kiss. Buffy leaned in and brought her arms up around his neck.
There was a crack.
Buffy pulled back and looked at her hand, glistening with liquid. Spike gingerly touched the back of his neck.
Egg.
@ @ @
Anya hung up the phone in the Magic Box. She looked around. Her beautiful store. Making her lots of money, even if there weren't actually many customers roaming around. Recently, most of her sales were being done over the internet. Ever since Willow had helped her to upload her entire stock for availability on the web, profits had increased ten-fold. And she liked profits. Apparently, there were many people wanting magical relics that didn't want to actually enter a magic shop. That was fine by her. As long as they bought stuff, she didn't have to see them.
Giles, Willow, Tara, and Xander were all sitting at the research table. They weren't in the way of any of the customers, and her eyes assured her that none of the books they were reading were for sale.
She cleared her throat that way humans did when they wanted attention, even if they didn't have phlegm. "Hey! Buffy just called. She's coming over."
Giles looked up, blinking. "She called first?"
Anya shrugged. "She wanted to make sure we were all in one spot. I guess Dawn's on her way over now. Buffy said she had something to tell us. Or maybe she said show us. I don't remember." She bit her lip. "Do you think that's important?"
Xander shook his head. "Nah. It basically amounts to the same thing. Buffy's found some Big Bad to beat the undead crap out of, and she's coming over to make us figure out why he was so hard to kill."
"Xander, how do you surmise that that is the case?"
He shrugged. "Isn't it always?"
@ @ @
"Oh God. I can't do this."
"Luv, we're right outside the store. You can't turn and run now. Come on." He pulled her across the sidewalk, towards the door. Buffy dug her feet in.
"No! I mean yes. I mean, I'll introduce you, but I won't tell them you're undead. They're not going to know you're a vampire."
"How the hell not?!" Spike couldn't believe she was backing out like this. Well, actually, he could. But he didn't like it.
"I'll just, lie, I guess. Oh God!" She lay a hand on his chest, and looked up at him with wide, panic~filled eyes. "Giles would kill me!"
He recognised this mood. If he didn't do something quickly, if he didn't get her in there before she had time to think about it, she'd flit off down the street and he'd never get them outted.
He grabbed her jacket sleeve and yanked her into the shop.
The Magic Box didn't have any customers. Probably because it was closed, now. But there were five people sitting around a round table, reading, or looking as if they had just looked up from reading. There was another woman, blonde, behind the counter, taking far to much enjoyment from counting the money.
"Spike! You assho--. Hi guys!" Buffy did a quick character switch and stood awkwardly for a moment.
"Buff! What's up. Some new bad thing, right? We made a bet." The guy had dark hair, looked about Buffy's age. Fashion sense of a howler monkey on crack. Must be that Xander bloke he'd heard about.
"Oh. Um, no. No badness," she considered, "Well, not any more than the usual badness. No...concentrated Hellmouth attempts at universe destruction. At least, I don't think so. Not that I know of. Why do you ask?" The redhead next to Xander made a little fist pump and hissed a yessss. Xander sighed and passed her a twenty.
The money-happy blonde looked up from her booty.
"Buffy! There you are. One of you're eyes is darker than the other. Did you have trouble putting on your make-up?" Complete lack of tact. Must be Anyanka, ex-demon extrordinaire. Everyone seemed to ignore her comment, but Buffy brought a quick hand to her face.
The redhead shrugged. She was dressed like a new age palm reader had raided Wet Seal. Willow Rosenburg. "We just figured that was why you'd called. You wanted us to all be here to tell us about a demon or something. And we could have a research party. Who's that?"
Buffy looked back at Spike, standing slightly behind her, hands in his duster. "Who, this? This is...um..." She trailed off, locked in desperate eye contact. He waited patiently. It was hard. The others watched, curious.
Damn. He'd have to act. He draped an arm over her shoulder.
"Name's Spike."
Anya looked around. "Why is he doing that? Do we know him?"
Forced, Buffy spoke. "This is Spike. My, um, ...boyfriend."
There was a squeal. Spike blinked. A thin brunette dressed like a Teenager was hopping up and down in her seat. Dawn Summers. Buffy's sister.
"EEEE! How long have you been going out? Why didn't you tell me?" She seemed to consider something. "Is he a freak? You usually go out with freaks."
"Um, no. He's not really a freak. We've been going out for a few months, I guess."
"Five," Spike offered.
"Five months."
The oldest in the room, at least by outward appearance, took off his glasses and started rubbing the lenses with a handkerchief.
"Ah. And you have kept this relationship secret for that long? Why am I not impressed with you?" British accent, had father figure' written all over him. Rupert Giles. Watcher.
Buffy squirmed, but made no attempt to remove Spike's arm.
"Yeah, well, that was probably bad. But I'm telling you now, so it's okay. Right?"
Giles shot her a look. There would be talk later. But not in front of company.'
Buffy rushed on. "Anyway, this is Spike, my new boyfriend, and these are the introductions. Anya, Xander, Willow, Giles, that's Tara, and Dawn's the one giggling like a loon."
Spike nodded. And waited. Three seconds.
"So what do you do, Spike?"
"M a..." sharp look from Buffy, "'M self-employed."
"Ah. That means you don't work, right?" Anya looked down at Xander for confirmation. "Self-employed is code for unemployed. Correct? I'm sure it is."
Spike was already sick of this game. They'd only been playing it for about two minutes. He'd better nip this in the bud. Just wait for the right question...
"So, Spike," started Xander, slipping into protective brother mode, "It that the name you're mother gave you?"
"No. Me name's William."
"Oo! You're British!" Everybody looked at Dawn, hopping and still trying to deal with her teenage-girl-hyper-giddy excitement at her sister's new relationship. Kind of endearing, in a scary way.
"Yeh. M British."
"When did you move here, Spike?" Tara asked quietly.
"Around twenty years ago."
"Wow. So you've been here most of you're life, right? Where do you live?" Willow nodded encouragingly at her girlfriend for speaking up.
"The cemetery." Buffy shot him a frantic look. He smiled at her. "In a crypt. Quite cozy."
The others looked at each other. This could be bad. Buffy was going out with a leather~wearing biker-punk that lived in a tomb. Pretty much par, but still...
Anya nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. If you don't have any substantial income, a crypt would make sense as a shelter. Unless you're still being supported by your family. Do you live with your parents, Spike?"
"Na, s just me."
"Is that how you met? When she was patr-*out walking* one night?"
Spike's eyes glinted at the opportunity to tell a misleading truth, the best kind of lie. "Yeah. 'Ass right."
"So how did you become Spike', exactly?"
Buffy's eyes got even more frantic. Spike smiled wider. "Stabbed a guy," he said, still looking at her. "Y'know. With a railroad spike. 'S how I got the name."
None of the assembled looked scared. More resigned, or like people who have been expecting a call and the phone rings. Xander banged his head down on the table. Tara jumped at the noise.
"Buffy, why do you keep hooking up with these people? Don't you want a normal guy at some point?"
Spike turned to look at Xander. "Oh? 'M not the first weirdo she's dated?"
Xander sighed, and stood. "Buffy, best friend though she is, has the worst taste in men on this green earth."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were insulting me."
"You don't scare me, man. You're nowhere near the top of her scary boyfriend list. You've got a hell of a lot of competition on that front."
Spike let go of Buffy, who was about to die of embarrassment, and walked a few steps towards the table.
"Really, mate. Do tell. I've always found myself quite scary."
Xander nearly laughed. "Yeah, I'll bet. You may be a murderer, and you dress like a Hell's Angels wannabe, but you probably can't compare to the damage a 240-year-old vampire's done through the years. That was Buffy's first boy."
"Angelus is 244. And you're right. I aven't killed as many people as he has. But I could beat his arse back to Ireland. Next?"
Willow, a bit wigged by Spike's familiarity with Angel, spoke up. "Well, there was Riley. He's a super soldier for a weird government organization. Or he was. Is he still doing that?"
"No," Buffy said, from behind him. "And Spike's not doing the stabbing people thing any more, either. Right, sweetie?"
"S right. On pain of pain."
Tara stirred. "Um, sorry, I'm just curious..." she looked around, unsure if it was okay to go on. "Um. When did the...spike...incident...happen?"
Spike turned to Buffy and concealed his smile. There it was. The right question. To cut through the bullshit. He could see the odd alloy of resigned panic in her eyes.
He turned back to Tara and smiled at the room.
"1896."
@ @ @
Hope you liked. That's the end.
~Star Mouse