Buffy woke to a buzzing.... a buzzing? What the hell? It was.... back
and forth... back and forth.... and back and- OH MY GOD!!!! It's TEN
THIRTY??? Buffy jumped out of bed, groggily reaching for clothes. She
had to be to work in less than a half an hour. Her alarm.... Damn it!
Her alarm didn't go off! She stomped downstairs, buttoning her hideous
orange striped shirt. Mumbling curses. The buzzing was Spike running the
vacuum, which she noticed as she rammed into him at the bottom of the
stairs. That was it. "SPIKE!"
He switched off the vacuum. "Oh god. Sorry, luv. I meant to wake you... I just got carried away..."
The frustrated noise escaped her throat. "My alarm?"
He gave a sheepish look. "Sorry. I turned it off. You were so tired... I just wanted you to sleep a little longer..."
She sighed. It was so sweetly aggravating. "Thanks." She almost tripped over the cord. Swore and stumbled into the kitchen. "Coffee."
He grinned and followed her. "And toast, and eggs. Just the way you like them."
"Oooh...." She half-sat, half-stood, gulping the coffee. "This is very sweet. Thank you..."
"No problem, luv," Spike said, smiling at her. "I just thought I'd get a jumpstart on my three days of chores."
She shoved in her mouth a quarter piece of toast, that she dipped hastily into her eggs.
He smiled at her. "Good? I know you're in a hurry. But I packed you a lunch..." And he actually had! He put a brown paper bag on the table. "Nothing much. I just didn't want you to be sick on all that fast food junk."
She grinned around the 'egg-toast'. Finished that half a piece. Stood. "I've got to go."
He stood with her, holding out the brown bag. "Don't forget your lunch."
She smiled quickly, swiped the bag, and stood slightly on her toes to brush her lips against the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Spike. Bye!"
He cocked his head as she went out the door. Walked slowly over to it, and locked it behind her. Well, that was a gyp. He practically cleaned the whole house, and all he got was a peck on the cheek? Huh.
========================================================================== ==========
Buffy sighed, and closed the bathroom door shut behind her. She was showering before training. That might sound weird, but not to her. The grease would block her pores, and the sweat wouldn't be able to get out, and.... she'd overheat and die.... again. She stripped her clothes off, tossing them to the side in disgust. She stepped into the shower, going over her grueling schedule for the next couple weeks. Work, train, slay. Work train slay. Ooooh! A break from the monotony. Work, work (double shifts, aren't they grand?) slay. Then.... oh... the giddiness was just about to take over! Work, train, train, train!!!! Super long session! YAY! She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair with a vengeance.
Note to self: Spike is sleeping at his crypt for a while. Another NTS: If he touches the alarm, he's dust. After a quick rinse, she stepped out, dried off, changed clothes, and left a quick note for Dawn, jogging to Giles' to train with her hair damp.
========================================================================== =======
Spike alternately had been laying back on his bed, pacing, sitting in his green chair, petting the cat, laying back again, and more pacing. That had been all day. He was getting stir crazy. 'She should have at least noticed how clean her house is by now,' the hyperactive vampire thought to himself. He looked at Harmon, who was curled on the end of the bed, watching his best friend driving himself batty.
"Tell me something, Harm.." Spike was fully aware that he was talking to a cat, but it was either that or one of Dru's old dolls, and he wasn't that far gone yet. Well, there had been that one time, but he had been drunk and... Nevermind. "What would you do if you'd spent the whole morning cleaning the house for the woman you love, and she barely even notices?" He looked at the cat.
"Prrrruuuoooww?"
"Exactly. You'd expect her to notice."
"Merow.."
"I know. I know she's busy. But she could at least call me. She's home now and... What?"
The cat was winding around his legs. Spike picked up the cat and resumed his pacing. "I mean, I did all that for her, cooked breakfast and everything. Vacuumed so well that I know that there's no dust anywhere in that bloody house! What!?"
Harmon "rowr"ed petulantly and leaped from Spike's arms onto the counter.
"What are you doing, Harm?" Spike tsked at the cat. "You know better than to get up there."
He tried to pick him up again, but the cat leaped down onto the floor, sitting next to his bowls. "MErrooowr!"
Ignoring the cat momentarily, except to continue talking to him, Spike shrugged and resumed pacing. "Well, if I came home and the crypt was cleaned up and I knew she'd done it, I'd notice. I'm very observant."
'Observant?', the cat thought. 'Hello! I've been trying to tell you that I'M OUT OF FOOD!!!' "MERRROOOWWW!"
Spike glanced down at the cat for an instant at the loud outburst. "What's wrong with you, Harm? You don't need to go to the vet again, do you?"
'No, idiot. I'm OUT OF FOOD!' Harmon decided to illustrate it. He stalked over, growling to himself, and seized Spike's pants leg in his mouth, tugging it toward the bowl.
"Do you have rabies or something?"
The cat sighed and released the pants leg. If you want something done right.... While the vampire continued to talk to the walls, (he couldn't have been talking to Harm, because the cat had stopped listening to him), Harmon walked over to the cupboard that held his bag of food. Opened it, and went in after the bag.
"-just think that she should have at least noticed, you know?" He looked around. "Harm?" Saw the cupboard open. Opened it the rest of the way curiously. Found Harm sitting amid the ruins of one shredded food bag. The cat looked up, chewing contentedly.
"Mnnmmrow?"
"HARMON!!!"
========================================================================== ===========
A week later, Buffy side-kicked at one of Giles' hands. "I mean.... sweet, ya know, but... hello? I have to get up for work!!" She wiped the sweat from her face quickly.
Giles nodded. "I understand. I'm certain he didn't mean for you to sleep that late." He pulled his hand out of the training glove, shaking it slightly. "You're still pulling your kicks slightly, Buffy."
She stopped, shook her shoulders loose. "I know. Let's try again."
Giles put the glove back on. "Yes. Let's." He held his hands up. "Ok. I'm ready. Give me your best shot."
Her day's frustration spilled into her next attack. She spun quickly, soundly kicking his gloved hand, her opposite hand coming up in a punch. And missing the glove in favor of clocking her Watcher square in the jaw, sending him flying onto the couch. "Oof!"
"Oh God!!!!!!! GILES!!! I'm so sorry!"
"No, John. The scones are fine..." He shook his head. "Oh. Ouch."
She didn't even touch him, and moved, in favor of getting icepacks quickly. She came back, pressed one to his jaw. "Oh, Giles... I'm so sorry...."
He smiled slightly at her. "Well, at least we know you don't have a problem pulling punches." Took the icepack from her. "I think, unless you want to beat up on a bag, this session is closed."
She sighed, her shoulders drooped. "No... I'm gonna go.. still have to patrol."
Giles nodded. "Buffy. You've been working hard. Why don't you take tonight off?"
She nodded her head. "That.... sounds delightful. It IS Friday, isn't it?"
"Last time I checked."
=======================================================
Buffy smiled as she stepped out of the shower, the towel feeling nice and fluffy, since she didn't have to grate it against her skin, throw on clothes and RUN!!!! She rubbed lotion on her skin, and her poor skin drank it in. She breathed in the fragrant air from her shower, and smiled into her foggy reflection in the mirror. Tonight, she decided was Buffy's Night Out. No Scoobies, no Dawn (bless Andrew and the movies), and alllll Buffy, all the time.
She started to do her hair, blow-drying, and pinning up sloppily, but beautifully, a few pieces hanging down her neck. She used the same care with her makeup, and finally sat, in her towel, in front of her closet. She was Bronzing it tonight. What to wear? As she leafed through her closet's contents, she gave a small frown. Wondered what Spike was doing tonight. It had been.... wow. A week and half already. It had seemed a lot longer, and at the same time, a lot shorter than that. She'd call. Tomorrow morning, while she got ready for work. Make plans for Sunday. Her FIRST day off in a week and half. Mmm... A day off....
Her eyes lit on a short, red, sheath dress, that went to about an inch above her knees, with slits to mid-thigh. But tonight.... Was Buffy night. She paired it with low-slung red heels, grabbed a purse, dabbed scent on her pulse points, smudged a crimson gloss on her lips and walked out the door.
========================================================================== ===========
Spike was just generally pissed at the world tonight. Even the cat knew better than to bother him. But, his bowls were full, so there was no need anyway. Instead, Harmon just watched as the vampire paced. He had already worn a three inch hole in the floor from a week and a half of seemingly endless pacing.
Spike was dressed rather differently than he'd been in some time. Black jeans, old black tee shirt, black duster, black shoes. His hair was slicked back. By all accounts, he was identical to the Spike that had first knocked over the Welcome To Sunnydale sign so many years earlier.
All accounts except for two. His soul, and Buffy's claim. The very things that had been pulling on him, tearing his emotions apart for the past week. Sure, she had to work. Sure, she had to train. But she hadn't even invited him to patrol with her in over a week!
He growled to himself. He wanted to kill something. And not necessarily a demon. Stalking to the fridge, he rooted around looking for a pint of blood. Was shocked to find that he was out. Huh. Ok. Go get dinner... Blood bank, maybe. Not butcher. He needed human blood. Preferably Buffy's, to stop this screaming in his head. With a snort, he climbed up the ladder and went out the door. 'Might as well get some cigs on the way...'
========================================================
Buffy sat at her dance-side table at the Bronze. The band was great, and the bodies were moving. She sipped her VERY non-alcoholic, thankyouverymuch, strawberry daiquiri, and watched them. Her foot bounced to the beat, and she smiled at the song. It was great.
She felt a frission of anger.... frustration? But it wasn't hers. Spike's. Man... she hadn't even thought about her claim over the last week and a half. He must have been patrolling. She smiled as a college prep came up, using the very latest in pick-up lines on her. Demurred his offer to a dance and a sexual act that she was sure was illegal, even in California. Another walked by, giving the no-neck before him a derisive eye-roll, sharing it with Buffy. She laughed, and joined him in the eyeroll. He was nice. Fun. Asked her to dance. She said no thanks... just enjoying the atmosphere tonight. She waited, waited, waited, for the pick-up line that she had left wide open by accident. And it didn't come. He just nodded, told her he'd be back to beg again, and disappeared into the crowd. Later, she was getting to be a little lonely. It was great for a while... but... now she just felt alone. The same guy came up to her, begging a dance, did a goofy two-step, imploring her to save him from his own two left feet.
Spike had been wandering around aimlessly for nearly two hours now. First stop, blood bank. Human blood. Not really fresh, but hey, take what you can get. Also, he'd nearly had to kill a security dog to get it, but had made it back over the fence before it became necessary. Second stop. Convenience store where he did something that he hadn't done in nearly two years. Snarled at the clerk, walking out with free cigs for his trouble.
Third stop, not really a stop. Quick sweep around three cemeteries. Not enough to completely satisfy the rage boiling within him. His demon was high on the human blood, and he was seeing the world through a red haze that made everything that moved look like food. The urges were almost too powerful to ignore. And he almost followed a young couple into an alley, intent on feeding on at least one of them. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how he chose to look at it, there was already a small pack of vamps in the alley, and he had been able to get rid of the urge to fight and kill by dusting them and saving the couple, instead of eating them.
Fourth stop. Bronze. He'd wound up outside it, and, just on a whim, decided to go in. Have some hotwings. A bloomin' onion. Maybe a shot or two of whiskey. He walked through the doors, ordered, found a table, sat down and began scanning the dance floor. Almost as if he was looking for victims. That's when he saw her. Or, rather, them...
Buffy had accepted the guy's offer to dance. So, they stood, face to face, dancing. The song was half slow, half a REALLY great, thumping beat. He was a better dancer than he pretended to be. She was swaying with him, bouncing a little with the bass. He took her hand, spun her, stopped when her back was to him, and pulled her slowly closer. Not too close, but his hands rested comfortably on her hips as the music turned smoky, and they twisted slowly down, then back up, their bodies still only touching by his hand, and her hip. But he was close enough to lean forward, said something in her ear. It was hilarious. She threw her head back, her throat exposed, the back of her head touching his shoulder for the barest second before he took her hand and twirled her again as she laughed.
Spike had seen enough. His already bad mood escalated into a nearly murderous rage. Through sheer force of will, he made himself get up and head for the door, rather than handing that wanker's head to him on a sliver platter. Again. It was happening again. He was losing a girlfriend to the first bleedin' idiot that came along. That guy was just a human version of the Chaos Demon that had taken Dru away from him. And yet... no sadness. Just anger. Pure, unadulterated fury. His eyes flashed yellow, and his teeth became fangs. He was in the parking lot by then. With a loud roaring snarl, he slammed his fist into and through the hood of a very nice red mustang. Into and through being all in one motion. He repeated this with almost every car in the lot and a couple of phone poles as he headed to his destination. 1630 Revello drive. He would talk to her when she got home. Oh yes. They would have a nice, loooong chat. Probably involving his fist connecting with her face a couple of times. He continued trashing parked cars and light posts all the way back to the Summers home.
========================================================================== ==========
In the club, Buffy laughed as the song ended, and he bent over her hand, insisted to pay for her drink, and let her go, with nothing but a thank- you for the dance. Some guy came in screaming about some guy with weird teeth slamming his mustang up. Buffy decided it'd be a good time to leave. She walked out, quickly, knowing as she looked at the once beautiful car that no human could do this. The trail was easily followed. A smashed carhood, telephone pole, even a few bent car rims. Her heartrate and footsteps picked up as the path led her down her road. Oh, God. Dawn. She almost tripped on the sidewalk, looked down at what she'd stepped on. The ugly blue demon that lived on laughter. It was harmless. And it's neck was snapped at an un-Godly angle. Why would-? She shook her head. No time... Dawn. Gotta check Dawn. She was running now, and slowed when her house came into view, and no carnage in sight. She walked swiftly up the sidewalk, intending to check on her sister, then continue her hunt for the demon.
Two glowing eyes watched her from the shadows around her tree. A cigarette butt flew over and landed in her path. "Have fun, Slayer?"
She turned, fists raised. Wha- Spike... Relief flashed through her. "Huh?" Her fists dropped to rest casually on her hips.
"At the Bronze. Dancing with that prancing wanker like a cheap whore. Have fun?" There was a snarl in his voice, and his eyes were still glowing dangerously. He lit another cigarette.
Relief was quickly shoved away by pissed off-confused female. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He snarled, dropped the new cigarette, stomping it out like it was the source of all that had ever wronged him. He took a step toward her, growling low. "You heard me."
Her mouth wrapped around the word like it was foreign. "Whore?" Her voice was dangerously low.
"What else would you call a woman who ignores her boyfriend for over a week, not even calling, and then goes out DANCING with ANOTHER MAN!!" He was still growling, but the words had a hurt tone. "I saw you, Slayer. So don't even bother denying it because-"
She cut him off. "Because someone with YOUR background has room to call ME a whore? Hello, Druscilla much? And... excuse ME if you didn't screw Harmony thinking about someone else, do GOD knows what else with Angelus, and WHAT do I remember about the LATEST game of Deepest Secret? Threesome, Spike?" Her words were angry, but her eyes flashed with pain. She'd have preferred his fists.
"Oh sure. Bring that up. It's ancient history, Slayer. ALL of it. THIS is new." He growled again, stopping only two feet from her. His body language a cross between preparation for attack, and just wanting to turn and walk away.
"And... EXCUSE ME! I forgot. You don't HAVE to pay the electric, the cable, the heat, the air conditioning bill. The telephone, grocery bill, Dawn's clothes... God, Dawn's clothes... my clothes... the water bill... I forGOT that you don't have to WORK for a living and SAVE THE DAMN WORLD EVERY NIGHT! Because it's a LITTLE new to ME, TOO! Did I forget about TRAINING and being IN SHAPE to save the damn world, Spike? Better pencil that in, too." She wasn't walking away anywhere. She was ready to fight. Words and fists. Ready and willing.
"So," he continued, growling loudly. "You were just too busy, huh? Couldn't even ask me along when you went to save the bloody fuckin' world! No. Looks like I was wrong, huh? You finally got me right were you wanted me. Make me think we're fine, and then screw my heart into the ground, huh? Well, I've been through it all before, and I don't have to take it." He turned to leave.
Her eyes burned. "Fuck you. God forbid I take a damn night for myself. So yeah. Fuck you, too."
He froze, five feet down the driveway. Her words hitting him harder than any of her punches ever did. His demon howled, and the man was royally pissed as well. So he did the only thing he could do. The red haze clouded over his vision, and Buffy stopped being the Slayer. Stopped being the woman he loved. Became something totally different. Food. He turned and charged, roaring like an animal.
She didn't pull her punch. Or her kick. Giles would have been proud.
Spike was no longer acting on conscious thought. He was a creature who's sole purpose in unlife was to kill, and he totally intended to do just that. There was no rhythm to his attack. None of the grace that had always shown through during their many encounters. He was an animal. A creature without soul, without conscience, ruled by hunger and rage.
She lost herself in the fight, became the Slayer, because, when she came down to it, they'd always be just that, wouldn't they? A vampire. And a Slayer. Her fisted back-hand sent him reeling, giving herself enough time to yank a stake from her purse, before discarding the red bag, tossing it across the lawn, preparing for his next attack.
His conscious mind latched on long enough to lock onto the stake. She sent it plunging toward his heart, operating totally on instinct, just as he had been. He ducked slightly, throwing her off balance, and did the only thing the demon could think of, given it's limited resources. He bit the stake, latching on like the proverbial pitbull.
She shoved an elbow into his nose. He roared, but somehow managed not to let go of the stake. She knocked him onto his back in the grass. His eyes locked on hers, and he froze, save for the growling and still holding onto the stake with every ounce of strength in his jaws.
She rammed one fist into his jaw, using her strength to keep him down. He yelped, accidentally releasing the stake. He lay there, frozen, watching her with animal eyes. Then, something changed. His eyes glowed slightly, as they changed back to their usual blue, and he looked up at Buffy with a look of purely human panic. He had control again.
She had the stake poised over his heart, the tip pressing dangerously hard through the material of his shirt. Three tears dropped off her cheeks, to land on his.
He was trembling slightly beneath her. "Well? Do it already. Can't hurt any worse..." He looked away.
The tears, they shamed her. She tossed the stake to the side, stood hastily, almost scrambling. "I'm not a whore." She ran, ran with all her slayer ability into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. And from the small desk beside the door, she drew out a small piece of paper, and with traitorous tears still tracking down her face, she chanted the words written on it carefully, precisely. She felt the blue net of safety drop over her house, her invitation to Spike into her home revoked. Her sister was safe, asleep in her room. She thanked the powers that Willow had left that paper for emergencies.
Spike got to his feet slowly. He knew he had been way out of line with what he'd said, not to mention what he'd done, but damnit! She'd done wrong too. She was the one out with another person, not him! He stalked toward the door, knocked. "Buffy?"
She slowly unlocked the door, wiped at her eyes, but it was fruitless, the mascara was everywhere now. Swung the door open.
"Buffy, I-" He left off as he tried to enter the house, and was repelled. "What the...?!"
She gathered her strength around her like a cloak, looking like a beaten warrior, stared into his eyes. Beaten yes... But proud.
He looked at her. Disbelief. Pain. Anger. Sadness. They all shown in his eyes, and more. "Buffy..."
Her bottom lip shook. Firmed her mouth, shook her head. "No." The word was raw pain. Raw, grating pain.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't think, too much pain. He raised a hand, placing it against the invisible barrier, looked at the Slayer pleadingly, imploringly. 'Buffy... I... I'm sorry... I love you...' A tear ran down his cheek. As his demon had before, his soul cried out in pain and his claim echoed. She was closing it down. Pulling away. It was like losing a limb.
A choked sound escaped her lips. "Tell me. Tell me you didn't kill anyone tonight."
He looked down. "No humans. A few vamps. A couple of demons. No humans." Looked at her hopefully. After all, that's what he was supposed to do, right?
She nodded. She didn't have to stake him. Not tonight anyway. "Kill Clem?"
His mouth actually quirked at a corner. "Can't say I've never thought about it. But no."
There was no humor in her eyes. "But you killed a laughing demon."
"That blue thing? It pissed me off." He shrugged. "A demon's a demon."
She nodded slowly. "A vampire's a vampire. A Slayer's a Slayer."
He flinched. "It pissed me off," he repeated quietly.
Buffy swallowed. She couldn't do this much more. It hurt. She hurt. Her heart hurt, her claim ached, and damnit, was she angry and sad. "I pissed you off."
He looked at her, the same pain she felt showing in his eyes. "It wasn't just you.... I've... been in a bad mood all week. Granted, it started because you were ignoring me-"
"Feeding Dawn, right. I forgot."
He turned around, sat on the stairs. "Never mind. It doesn't even make sense now. I never should have gone to the blood bank."
She blanched and barely stemmed her gag reflex. "Human blood?"
"I hadn't eaten in a couple of days. Needed something stronger. And I thought it'd make that incessant screaming in my head stop." He rested his head in his hands, staring at the sidewalk.
She scrubbed a hand against her mouth, hard, suddenly missing having Tara to break down on. Finally, she said slowly, quietly, "Go. I don't- I don't want to stake you. But I will. So hunt somewhere else. When you- " the word stuck in her throat, and when it left her lips, felt like it had scraped up her insides with razors, "leave. When you leave, don't come back. I'll give you some heroic death to Dawn. But me and mine are off-limits."
He stood up, whirled around. "What?" Shock, pain, unbelievable pain. "Buffy.. You don't... I wouldn't... I don't want-"
Her tears betrayed her as she stood off, the barrier between them.
"Buffy." That one word. Filled with longing, with sorrow, with pain. "...don't..." He could feel his own tears start and forced them back by sheer will. Placed his hand on the barrier again. So close... So far..
One sob, and it cost her. She hauled the rest in. "Don't what? Don't cry? Don't fear Dawn'll piss you off one day? Spike..." Her plea was desperate. "Don't what??"
"It wasn't... I won't do it again.. I don't know what happened... Buffy... Don't push me away..." The tears fell, and his legs gave out. He fell to his knees in front of the door. "...please..."
Her eyes shone with it. Too much pain, too fast, again. Again. Heart ripped from her chest. Again. Made to choose. Again. The ripping fear, and pain, and sorrow.
He looked up at her. So... vulnerable. None of the monster left. Only a broken, scared man who needed the one he loved. "...please...", he repeated.
"I'm sorry." The words were spoken softly, genuinely. She closed the door gently, turned the lock slowly, and turning off the light, crept up the stairs. But she couldn't escape the mental howl of the tortured and broken soul that she'd left on the porch.
Kay, guys... this broke our hearts to write, PLEASE let us know how you felt. I swear there will be two more chaps tomorrow. We thank you for reviewing, and love you all. Always your... Tequila Sunrise
He switched off the vacuum. "Oh god. Sorry, luv. I meant to wake you... I just got carried away..."
The frustrated noise escaped her throat. "My alarm?"
He gave a sheepish look. "Sorry. I turned it off. You were so tired... I just wanted you to sleep a little longer..."
She sighed. It was so sweetly aggravating. "Thanks." She almost tripped over the cord. Swore and stumbled into the kitchen. "Coffee."
He grinned and followed her. "And toast, and eggs. Just the way you like them."
"Oooh...." She half-sat, half-stood, gulping the coffee. "This is very sweet. Thank you..."
"No problem, luv," Spike said, smiling at her. "I just thought I'd get a jumpstart on my three days of chores."
She shoved in her mouth a quarter piece of toast, that she dipped hastily into her eggs.
He smiled at her. "Good? I know you're in a hurry. But I packed you a lunch..." And he actually had! He put a brown paper bag on the table. "Nothing much. I just didn't want you to be sick on all that fast food junk."
She grinned around the 'egg-toast'. Finished that half a piece. Stood. "I've got to go."
He stood with her, holding out the brown bag. "Don't forget your lunch."
She smiled quickly, swiped the bag, and stood slightly on her toes to brush her lips against the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, Spike. Bye!"
He cocked his head as she went out the door. Walked slowly over to it, and locked it behind her. Well, that was a gyp. He practically cleaned the whole house, and all he got was a peck on the cheek? Huh.
========================================================================== ==========
Buffy sighed, and closed the bathroom door shut behind her. She was showering before training. That might sound weird, but not to her. The grease would block her pores, and the sweat wouldn't be able to get out, and.... she'd overheat and die.... again. She stripped her clothes off, tossing them to the side in disgust. She stepped into the shower, going over her grueling schedule for the next couple weeks. Work, train, slay. Work train slay. Ooooh! A break from the monotony. Work, work (double shifts, aren't they grand?) slay. Then.... oh... the giddiness was just about to take over! Work, train, train, train!!!! Super long session! YAY! She scrubbed the shampoo into her hair with a vengeance.
Note to self: Spike is sleeping at his crypt for a while. Another NTS: If he touches the alarm, he's dust. After a quick rinse, she stepped out, dried off, changed clothes, and left a quick note for Dawn, jogging to Giles' to train with her hair damp.
========================================================================== =======
Spike alternately had been laying back on his bed, pacing, sitting in his green chair, petting the cat, laying back again, and more pacing. That had been all day. He was getting stir crazy. 'She should have at least noticed how clean her house is by now,' the hyperactive vampire thought to himself. He looked at Harmon, who was curled on the end of the bed, watching his best friend driving himself batty.
"Tell me something, Harm.." Spike was fully aware that he was talking to a cat, but it was either that or one of Dru's old dolls, and he wasn't that far gone yet. Well, there had been that one time, but he had been drunk and... Nevermind. "What would you do if you'd spent the whole morning cleaning the house for the woman you love, and she barely even notices?" He looked at the cat.
"Prrrruuuoooww?"
"Exactly. You'd expect her to notice."
"Merow.."
"I know. I know she's busy. But she could at least call me. She's home now and... What?"
The cat was winding around his legs. Spike picked up the cat and resumed his pacing. "I mean, I did all that for her, cooked breakfast and everything. Vacuumed so well that I know that there's no dust anywhere in that bloody house! What!?"
Harmon "rowr"ed petulantly and leaped from Spike's arms onto the counter.
"What are you doing, Harm?" Spike tsked at the cat. "You know better than to get up there."
He tried to pick him up again, but the cat leaped down onto the floor, sitting next to his bowls. "MErrooowr!"
Ignoring the cat momentarily, except to continue talking to him, Spike shrugged and resumed pacing. "Well, if I came home and the crypt was cleaned up and I knew she'd done it, I'd notice. I'm very observant."
'Observant?', the cat thought. 'Hello! I've been trying to tell you that I'M OUT OF FOOD!!!' "MERRROOOWWW!"
Spike glanced down at the cat for an instant at the loud outburst. "What's wrong with you, Harm? You don't need to go to the vet again, do you?"
'No, idiot. I'm OUT OF FOOD!' Harmon decided to illustrate it. He stalked over, growling to himself, and seized Spike's pants leg in his mouth, tugging it toward the bowl.
"Do you have rabies or something?"
The cat sighed and released the pants leg. If you want something done right.... While the vampire continued to talk to the walls, (he couldn't have been talking to Harm, because the cat had stopped listening to him), Harmon walked over to the cupboard that held his bag of food. Opened it, and went in after the bag.
"-just think that she should have at least noticed, you know?" He looked around. "Harm?" Saw the cupboard open. Opened it the rest of the way curiously. Found Harm sitting amid the ruins of one shredded food bag. The cat looked up, chewing contentedly.
"Mnnmmrow?"
"HARMON!!!"
========================================================================== ===========
A week later, Buffy side-kicked at one of Giles' hands. "I mean.... sweet, ya know, but... hello? I have to get up for work!!" She wiped the sweat from her face quickly.
Giles nodded. "I understand. I'm certain he didn't mean for you to sleep that late." He pulled his hand out of the training glove, shaking it slightly. "You're still pulling your kicks slightly, Buffy."
She stopped, shook her shoulders loose. "I know. Let's try again."
Giles put the glove back on. "Yes. Let's." He held his hands up. "Ok. I'm ready. Give me your best shot."
Her day's frustration spilled into her next attack. She spun quickly, soundly kicking his gloved hand, her opposite hand coming up in a punch. And missing the glove in favor of clocking her Watcher square in the jaw, sending him flying onto the couch. "Oof!"
"Oh God!!!!!!! GILES!!! I'm so sorry!"
"No, John. The scones are fine..." He shook his head. "Oh. Ouch."
She didn't even touch him, and moved, in favor of getting icepacks quickly. She came back, pressed one to his jaw. "Oh, Giles... I'm so sorry...."
He smiled slightly at her. "Well, at least we know you don't have a problem pulling punches." Took the icepack from her. "I think, unless you want to beat up on a bag, this session is closed."
She sighed, her shoulders drooped. "No... I'm gonna go.. still have to patrol."
Giles nodded. "Buffy. You've been working hard. Why don't you take tonight off?"
She nodded her head. "That.... sounds delightful. It IS Friday, isn't it?"
"Last time I checked."
=======================================================
Buffy smiled as she stepped out of the shower, the towel feeling nice and fluffy, since she didn't have to grate it against her skin, throw on clothes and RUN!!!! She rubbed lotion on her skin, and her poor skin drank it in. She breathed in the fragrant air from her shower, and smiled into her foggy reflection in the mirror. Tonight, she decided was Buffy's Night Out. No Scoobies, no Dawn (bless Andrew and the movies), and alllll Buffy, all the time.
She started to do her hair, blow-drying, and pinning up sloppily, but beautifully, a few pieces hanging down her neck. She used the same care with her makeup, and finally sat, in her towel, in front of her closet. She was Bronzing it tonight. What to wear? As she leafed through her closet's contents, she gave a small frown. Wondered what Spike was doing tonight. It had been.... wow. A week and half already. It had seemed a lot longer, and at the same time, a lot shorter than that. She'd call. Tomorrow morning, while she got ready for work. Make plans for Sunday. Her FIRST day off in a week and half. Mmm... A day off....
Her eyes lit on a short, red, sheath dress, that went to about an inch above her knees, with slits to mid-thigh. But tonight.... Was Buffy night. She paired it with low-slung red heels, grabbed a purse, dabbed scent on her pulse points, smudged a crimson gloss on her lips and walked out the door.
========================================================================== ===========
Spike was just generally pissed at the world tonight. Even the cat knew better than to bother him. But, his bowls were full, so there was no need anyway. Instead, Harmon just watched as the vampire paced. He had already worn a three inch hole in the floor from a week and a half of seemingly endless pacing.
Spike was dressed rather differently than he'd been in some time. Black jeans, old black tee shirt, black duster, black shoes. His hair was slicked back. By all accounts, he was identical to the Spike that had first knocked over the Welcome To Sunnydale sign so many years earlier.
All accounts except for two. His soul, and Buffy's claim. The very things that had been pulling on him, tearing his emotions apart for the past week. Sure, she had to work. Sure, she had to train. But she hadn't even invited him to patrol with her in over a week!
He growled to himself. He wanted to kill something. And not necessarily a demon. Stalking to the fridge, he rooted around looking for a pint of blood. Was shocked to find that he was out. Huh. Ok. Go get dinner... Blood bank, maybe. Not butcher. He needed human blood. Preferably Buffy's, to stop this screaming in his head. With a snort, he climbed up the ladder and went out the door. 'Might as well get some cigs on the way...'
========================================================
Buffy sat at her dance-side table at the Bronze. The band was great, and the bodies were moving. She sipped her VERY non-alcoholic, thankyouverymuch, strawberry daiquiri, and watched them. Her foot bounced to the beat, and she smiled at the song. It was great.
She felt a frission of anger.... frustration? But it wasn't hers. Spike's. Man... she hadn't even thought about her claim over the last week and a half. He must have been patrolling. She smiled as a college prep came up, using the very latest in pick-up lines on her. Demurred his offer to a dance and a sexual act that she was sure was illegal, even in California. Another walked by, giving the no-neck before him a derisive eye-roll, sharing it with Buffy. She laughed, and joined him in the eyeroll. He was nice. Fun. Asked her to dance. She said no thanks... just enjoying the atmosphere tonight. She waited, waited, waited, for the pick-up line that she had left wide open by accident. And it didn't come. He just nodded, told her he'd be back to beg again, and disappeared into the crowd. Later, she was getting to be a little lonely. It was great for a while... but... now she just felt alone. The same guy came up to her, begging a dance, did a goofy two-step, imploring her to save him from his own two left feet.
Spike had been wandering around aimlessly for nearly two hours now. First stop, blood bank. Human blood. Not really fresh, but hey, take what you can get. Also, he'd nearly had to kill a security dog to get it, but had made it back over the fence before it became necessary. Second stop. Convenience store where he did something that he hadn't done in nearly two years. Snarled at the clerk, walking out with free cigs for his trouble.
Third stop, not really a stop. Quick sweep around three cemeteries. Not enough to completely satisfy the rage boiling within him. His demon was high on the human blood, and he was seeing the world through a red haze that made everything that moved look like food. The urges were almost too powerful to ignore. And he almost followed a young couple into an alley, intent on feeding on at least one of them. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how he chose to look at it, there was already a small pack of vamps in the alley, and he had been able to get rid of the urge to fight and kill by dusting them and saving the couple, instead of eating them.
Fourth stop. Bronze. He'd wound up outside it, and, just on a whim, decided to go in. Have some hotwings. A bloomin' onion. Maybe a shot or two of whiskey. He walked through the doors, ordered, found a table, sat down and began scanning the dance floor. Almost as if he was looking for victims. That's when he saw her. Or, rather, them...
Buffy had accepted the guy's offer to dance. So, they stood, face to face, dancing. The song was half slow, half a REALLY great, thumping beat. He was a better dancer than he pretended to be. She was swaying with him, bouncing a little with the bass. He took her hand, spun her, stopped when her back was to him, and pulled her slowly closer. Not too close, but his hands rested comfortably on her hips as the music turned smoky, and they twisted slowly down, then back up, their bodies still only touching by his hand, and her hip. But he was close enough to lean forward, said something in her ear. It was hilarious. She threw her head back, her throat exposed, the back of her head touching his shoulder for the barest second before he took her hand and twirled her again as she laughed.
Spike had seen enough. His already bad mood escalated into a nearly murderous rage. Through sheer force of will, he made himself get up and head for the door, rather than handing that wanker's head to him on a sliver platter. Again. It was happening again. He was losing a girlfriend to the first bleedin' idiot that came along. That guy was just a human version of the Chaos Demon that had taken Dru away from him. And yet... no sadness. Just anger. Pure, unadulterated fury. His eyes flashed yellow, and his teeth became fangs. He was in the parking lot by then. With a loud roaring snarl, he slammed his fist into and through the hood of a very nice red mustang. Into and through being all in one motion. He repeated this with almost every car in the lot and a couple of phone poles as he headed to his destination. 1630 Revello drive. He would talk to her when she got home. Oh yes. They would have a nice, loooong chat. Probably involving his fist connecting with her face a couple of times. He continued trashing parked cars and light posts all the way back to the Summers home.
========================================================================== ==========
In the club, Buffy laughed as the song ended, and he bent over her hand, insisted to pay for her drink, and let her go, with nothing but a thank- you for the dance. Some guy came in screaming about some guy with weird teeth slamming his mustang up. Buffy decided it'd be a good time to leave. She walked out, quickly, knowing as she looked at the once beautiful car that no human could do this. The trail was easily followed. A smashed carhood, telephone pole, even a few bent car rims. Her heartrate and footsteps picked up as the path led her down her road. Oh, God. Dawn. She almost tripped on the sidewalk, looked down at what she'd stepped on. The ugly blue demon that lived on laughter. It was harmless. And it's neck was snapped at an un-Godly angle. Why would-? She shook her head. No time... Dawn. Gotta check Dawn. She was running now, and slowed when her house came into view, and no carnage in sight. She walked swiftly up the sidewalk, intending to check on her sister, then continue her hunt for the demon.
Two glowing eyes watched her from the shadows around her tree. A cigarette butt flew over and landed in her path. "Have fun, Slayer?"
She turned, fists raised. Wha- Spike... Relief flashed through her. "Huh?" Her fists dropped to rest casually on her hips.
"At the Bronze. Dancing with that prancing wanker like a cheap whore. Have fun?" There was a snarl in his voice, and his eyes were still glowing dangerously. He lit another cigarette.
Relief was quickly shoved away by pissed off-confused female. "What the hell are you talking about?"
He snarled, dropped the new cigarette, stomping it out like it was the source of all that had ever wronged him. He took a step toward her, growling low. "You heard me."
Her mouth wrapped around the word like it was foreign. "Whore?" Her voice was dangerously low.
"What else would you call a woman who ignores her boyfriend for over a week, not even calling, and then goes out DANCING with ANOTHER MAN!!" He was still growling, but the words had a hurt tone. "I saw you, Slayer. So don't even bother denying it because-"
She cut him off. "Because someone with YOUR background has room to call ME a whore? Hello, Druscilla much? And... excuse ME if you didn't screw Harmony thinking about someone else, do GOD knows what else with Angelus, and WHAT do I remember about the LATEST game of Deepest Secret? Threesome, Spike?" Her words were angry, but her eyes flashed with pain. She'd have preferred his fists.
"Oh sure. Bring that up. It's ancient history, Slayer. ALL of it. THIS is new." He growled again, stopping only two feet from her. His body language a cross between preparation for attack, and just wanting to turn and walk away.
"And... EXCUSE ME! I forgot. You don't HAVE to pay the electric, the cable, the heat, the air conditioning bill. The telephone, grocery bill, Dawn's clothes... God, Dawn's clothes... my clothes... the water bill... I forGOT that you don't have to WORK for a living and SAVE THE DAMN WORLD EVERY NIGHT! Because it's a LITTLE new to ME, TOO! Did I forget about TRAINING and being IN SHAPE to save the damn world, Spike? Better pencil that in, too." She wasn't walking away anywhere. She was ready to fight. Words and fists. Ready and willing.
"So," he continued, growling loudly. "You were just too busy, huh? Couldn't even ask me along when you went to save the bloody fuckin' world! No. Looks like I was wrong, huh? You finally got me right were you wanted me. Make me think we're fine, and then screw my heart into the ground, huh? Well, I've been through it all before, and I don't have to take it." He turned to leave.
Her eyes burned. "Fuck you. God forbid I take a damn night for myself. So yeah. Fuck you, too."
He froze, five feet down the driveway. Her words hitting him harder than any of her punches ever did. His demon howled, and the man was royally pissed as well. So he did the only thing he could do. The red haze clouded over his vision, and Buffy stopped being the Slayer. Stopped being the woman he loved. Became something totally different. Food. He turned and charged, roaring like an animal.
She didn't pull her punch. Or her kick. Giles would have been proud.
Spike was no longer acting on conscious thought. He was a creature who's sole purpose in unlife was to kill, and he totally intended to do just that. There was no rhythm to his attack. None of the grace that had always shown through during their many encounters. He was an animal. A creature without soul, without conscience, ruled by hunger and rage.
She lost herself in the fight, became the Slayer, because, when she came down to it, they'd always be just that, wouldn't they? A vampire. And a Slayer. Her fisted back-hand sent him reeling, giving herself enough time to yank a stake from her purse, before discarding the red bag, tossing it across the lawn, preparing for his next attack.
His conscious mind latched on long enough to lock onto the stake. She sent it plunging toward his heart, operating totally on instinct, just as he had been. He ducked slightly, throwing her off balance, and did the only thing the demon could think of, given it's limited resources. He bit the stake, latching on like the proverbial pitbull.
She shoved an elbow into his nose. He roared, but somehow managed not to let go of the stake. She knocked him onto his back in the grass. His eyes locked on hers, and he froze, save for the growling and still holding onto the stake with every ounce of strength in his jaws.
She rammed one fist into his jaw, using her strength to keep him down. He yelped, accidentally releasing the stake. He lay there, frozen, watching her with animal eyes. Then, something changed. His eyes glowed slightly, as they changed back to their usual blue, and he looked up at Buffy with a look of purely human panic. He had control again.
She had the stake poised over his heart, the tip pressing dangerously hard through the material of his shirt. Three tears dropped off her cheeks, to land on his.
He was trembling slightly beneath her. "Well? Do it already. Can't hurt any worse..." He looked away.
The tears, they shamed her. She tossed the stake to the side, stood hastily, almost scrambling. "I'm not a whore." She ran, ran with all her slayer ability into the house, slamming and locking the door behind her. And from the small desk beside the door, she drew out a small piece of paper, and with traitorous tears still tracking down her face, she chanted the words written on it carefully, precisely. She felt the blue net of safety drop over her house, her invitation to Spike into her home revoked. Her sister was safe, asleep in her room. She thanked the powers that Willow had left that paper for emergencies.
Spike got to his feet slowly. He knew he had been way out of line with what he'd said, not to mention what he'd done, but damnit! She'd done wrong too. She was the one out with another person, not him! He stalked toward the door, knocked. "Buffy?"
She slowly unlocked the door, wiped at her eyes, but it was fruitless, the mascara was everywhere now. Swung the door open.
"Buffy, I-" He left off as he tried to enter the house, and was repelled. "What the...?!"
She gathered her strength around her like a cloak, looking like a beaten warrior, stared into his eyes. Beaten yes... But proud.
He looked at her. Disbelief. Pain. Anger. Sadness. They all shown in his eyes, and more. "Buffy..."
Her bottom lip shook. Firmed her mouth, shook her head. "No." The word was raw pain. Raw, grating pain.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't think, too much pain. He raised a hand, placing it against the invisible barrier, looked at the Slayer pleadingly, imploringly. 'Buffy... I... I'm sorry... I love you...' A tear ran down his cheek. As his demon had before, his soul cried out in pain and his claim echoed. She was closing it down. Pulling away. It was like losing a limb.
A choked sound escaped her lips. "Tell me. Tell me you didn't kill anyone tonight."
He looked down. "No humans. A few vamps. A couple of demons. No humans." Looked at her hopefully. After all, that's what he was supposed to do, right?
She nodded. She didn't have to stake him. Not tonight anyway. "Kill Clem?"
His mouth actually quirked at a corner. "Can't say I've never thought about it. But no."
There was no humor in her eyes. "But you killed a laughing demon."
"That blue thing? It pissed me off." He shrugged. "A demon's a demon."
She nodded slowly. "A vampire's a vampire. A Slayer's a Slayer."
He flinched. "It pissed me off," he repeated quietly.
Buffy swallowed. She couldn't do this much more. It hurt. She hurt. Her heart hurt, her claim ached, and damnit, was she angry and sad. "I pissed you off."
He looked at her, the same pain she felt showing in his eyes. "It wasn't just you.... I've... been in a bad mood all week. Granted, it started because you were ignoring me-"
"Feeding Dawn, right. I forgot."
He turned around, sat on the stairs. "Never mind. It doesn't even make sense now. I never should have gone to the blood bank."
She blanched and barely stemmed her gag reflex. "Human blood?"
"I hadn't eaten in a couple of days. Needed something stronger. And I thought it'd make that incessant screaming in my head stop." He rested his head in his hands, staring at the sidewalk.
She scrubbed a hand against her mouth, hard, suddenly missing having Tara to break down on. Finally, she said slowly, quietly, "Go. I don't- I don't want to stake you. But I will. So hunt somewhere else. When you- " the word stuck in her throat, and when it left her lips, felt like it had scraped up her insides with razors, "leave. When you leave, don't come back. I'll give you some heroic death to Dawn. But me and mine are off-limits."
He stood up, whirled around. "What?" Shock, pain, unbelievable pain. "Buffy.. You don't... I wouldn't... I don't want-"
Her tears betrayed her as she stood off, the barrier between them.
"Buffy." That one word. Filled with longing, with sorrow, with pain. "...don't..." He could feel his own tears start and forced them back by sheer will. Placed his hand on the barrier again. So close... So far..
One sob, and it cost her. She hauled the rest in. "Don't what? Don't cry? Don't fear Dawn'll piss you off one day? Spike..." Her plea was desperate. "Don't what??"
"It wasn't... I won't do it again.. I don't know what happened... Buffy... Don't push me away..." The tears fell, and his legs gave out. He fell to his knees in front of the door. "...please..."
Her eyes shone with it. Too much pain, too fast, again. Again. Heart ripped from her chest. Again. Made to choose. Again. The ripping fear, and pain, and sorrow.
He looked up at her. So... vulnerable. None of the monster left. Only a broken, scared man who needed the one he loved. "...please...", he repeated.
"I'm sorry." The words were spoken softly, genuinely. She closed the door gently, turned the lock slowly, and turning off the light, crept up the stairs. But she couldn't escape the mental howl of the tortured and broken soul that she'd left on the porch.
Kay, guys... this broke our hearts to write, PLEASE let us know how you felt. I swear there will be two more chaps tomorrow. We thank you for reviewing, and love you all. Always your... Tequila Sunrise