- In the Name of Love
By Tales of Spike
Disclaimer:
Spike: So you're saying that I'm a figment of some bloke's imagination.
Buffy: Yeah. This guy called Joss made up all the people we know. And then he set up a production company called Mutant Enemy and they made a TV series and they sold it to Fox and UPN and everybody else.
Spike: So now I'm not only made up, but there's some actor type going around pretending to be me. As if they could find some human who could do me justice!
Buffy: It gets better. In one episode, he makes it so that I think that I made up everybody that he really made up.
Spike: Bloody Hell! Is this guy on any prescription medication? Seriously – Everybody round here is miserable. Maybe if we club together we can get him some Prozac… or maybe we should get him laid…What about that Faith bint? I mean he'd have to let her out of that jail… but once he tries a slayer…
Buffy: You're a pig!
Spike: Hey I know what it is. He's jealous of my undeniable charm, bad boy attitude and my compactly muscular body. That's why he made me be in love with such a bitch…
Buffy: Hey! That's not fair. I can't help it. It's how he made me…
Disclaimer#2: I Walk the Line is by Alien Sex Fiend
Dedication: For Charmin, Sarr Chasm, akeleven, Darlene D, bubonicplague1348 and Queen Akasha. I just love repeat reviewers. Love them, love them, love them!!! ß The people who kept me going through writing the original version that ff deleted. (And for NeverMindDaria and faerie babee without whom I'd have given up on reposting this.)
"Hell's Bells" written by Rebecca Rand Kirshner
Chapter 7She had hoped that breaking up with him would give her a sense of closure, that the dreams would stop, but still they went on.
They started with the tiger. The stunningly beautiful, incredibly rare white tiger with piercing blue eyes.
She saw him as he drank by the edge of a moonlit pool, his tongue lapping at the midnight dark liquid, yet when he looked up, suddenly aware of her presence, not water but blood dripped from his lips, fangs and gums.
He watched her as his long tongue snaked from his mouth to rasp away the telltale blood stains; he knew that she could no more run from his predatory gaze than a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut could avoid its fate.
Slowly he began to pad towards her, the pool fading into the dark shadows of her dream landscape. With a grace, power and strength unmatched in the human world, taut muscles rippled under creamy pale fur. His winter blue gaze focused on her face and she was helpless and pinned in place as long as their eyes met. The pounding rhythm of those powerful muscles gradually quickened, from a walk to a trot and finally, to a steady loping run. Then, just when she thought the suspense unbearable he leapt, bearing her over backwards, with one forceful paw on each shoulder and as she hit the ground the beast's fangs pierced the skin of her exposed neck. Her hair, always long in these dreams, as he had liked it, before a fit of spite had made her hack it off, was loosely pinned back and up for the sole purpose of granting him easy access.
As he drank the body above her would change form and in an instant she found herself pinned beneath his jean-clad form resting on a concrete floor, her arms extended above her head and manacled to a metal loop set into the floor.
Now that her eyes were no longer locked with his, she was free to struggle and she writhed beneath him as he drew precious blood from her veins. Just as the blood loss left her overcome by a giddy euphoria, she became aware of a shift in his weight and he sat back on his heels face morphing from demon to human visage as he did so.
Reaching behind her head he removed the grips which held her hair in place, spreading it in shimmering waves on the floor around her. His hands gripped the neckline of her blouse and effortlessly tore it from top to bottom, the remaining pieces dissolving as his hands pulled apart, leaving her upper half bare except for a thin scrap of white lace. Slowly, tauntingly, he drew the talon on his left index finger across the delicate material, severing the narrow strip where left and right hemispheres met. She felt a sharp pain as the nail drew blood from a shallow cut. He dipped his platinum head and extended his tongue, licking the precious plasma from her ribs. She strained against the manacles, wishing desperately to run her fingers through his hair until it flopped into curls; free of the gel that constrained its movement.
He watched her struggles and the reactions that played across her face. He moved first one knee and then the other, so that instead of pinning her hips between his legs, he knelt between her parted thighs.
He drew a line with the tip of his tongue from the centre of her chest to the already puckered aureole of her left breast, circling several times before finally sucking her nipple into his mouth. Her hips flexed upward in an uncontrolled spasm. Even in her weakened state her response to his touch was still fevered.
Finally he tore the last remnants of her clothing from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable, whilst he tauntingly remained half-clothed.
His mouth moved once more to her neck, lapping and nuzzling at the wounds he made earlier, leaving the area clean with only four small puncture wounds to indicate that he had drawn blood from her. He drew his nail across his wrist, drawing a line of blood to the surface. He brought up, holding it just above her mouth so she was forced to raise her head up off the floor to lick the wound, acknowledging her desire for his intimate gift. As soon as she did so, he lowered his arm allowing her mouth easier access to the wound, stroking along the cut with her tongue and placing kisses over it's length. Though she drew only a minuscule amount of blood into her mouth, it seemed that her whole body flushed as the faint coppery taint mingled with her saliva. Every nerve ending became gloriously sensitive to his touch, as if electric current flowed between the two instead of an exchange of blood.
The chains that held her arms were gone, though she knew that they had not been removed and she rose to a kneeling position knee to knee, opposite him. They stared into each other's eyes and for a moment it was as if they were each other's mirrors. Blonde on blonde, her eyes looking into his glorious molten chips of blue. Each pair fervently seeking something more than passion and desire. When they found acceptance in the other's eyes the blood bond between them took over and each fell upon the other in a frenzy.
Their mouths locked, tongues exploring their partner's mouths. His left hand moved to cup her breast. His thumb drew circles, teasing the erect point of her small dusky nipple. His right hand drew her toward him, long slender fingers grasping her buttock, pressing her hard against him so she was pushed against the bulge in his jeans, which was further emphasised by the subtle grinding motion of his pelvis.
Reaching between them she pressed against his swollen crotch, first with the heel of her hand, then the palm followed by her fingers finally drawing her nails across the ridges in the thick denim fabric. First one small hand and then the other, until her fingertips reached the waistband of his jeans. They brushed lightly across the exposed planes of his stomach and when his muscles contracted in response she gripped the waistband in both hands. She gloried in the strength that allowed her to rip open the front of his jeans and pull them down around his knees all in one sharp movement.
His velvet smooth cock pressed against her stomach. Unable to wait any longer she grasped his shoulders in her hands pushing upwards she hooked her legs around him.
"Now, Spike, Now!" she gasped. "I need you now!" before she slowly impaled herself on his rock-hard erection.
She woke to a felling of emptiness; alone, her legs tangled up in her sweat-drenched sheets. Her body ached for release, but only his cool dick stretching her inner muscles, filling her so completely it hurt was going to do it for her. She rubbed hard and fast at her clit trying to force her body into submission, but the tension refused to leave her body.
Eventually, she got up, got dressed and went out to patrol.
That night she avoided the cemetery where Spike had his crypt.
* * * * *
It had to be done. Really the weather was way to warm for it but she didn't care. No way was Dawn going to let a chance like this go by. She couldn't wait to see Buffy's face. She kinda thought she might like to see the look on the face of that cute guy in her art class too.
She had used rollers in her hair so that it fell in soft waves, a bit less little girlish than normal. She was wearing a bit of mascara and some clear lip-gloss. Just enough make-up to give her a helping hand, but nothing that Buffy could justify telling her to take off. Her black sleeveless top wasn't low-cut, but it was skin-tight. Black bootleg jeans and high-heeled black boots completed her accessories. The duster was the real outfit.
She stalked into the kitchen. (The heels on the boots were a touch higher than she was used to, but she needed them to avoid trailing the hem of the coat along the ground. That meant she had a choice between stalking through the house using kitchen units etc. to absorb her momentum when she wanted to stop or turn a corner; or she teetered, and that so wasn't right with this coat.) Towering over her sister she grabbed a glass and fetched some orange juice from the fridge.
"Wh-what? Why are you wearing Spike's coat?" Buffy stuttered as she realised how Dawn was dressed. She was having nasty thoughts about the last guy who gave Dawn his jacket. What the hell had the peroxide pervert been up to with Dawn? Was this his idea of getting his own back on her for dumping him? He was so-o-o dust.
"Because it's cool, and he gave it to me."
"Why would Spike give you his coat? He even keeps it on when he's…" The sentence died on Buffy's lips stillborn. She coloured, as she thought of her and Spike, against the wall in the abandoned house, in the alley at the back of DMP, on the balcony in the Bronze, in their front yard. Hell, she was getting turned on by his coat! She didn't even have to see him. All it took was the scent of leather, cigarettes and him.
Dawn shrugged. "Something to remember him by? He picked me up from school yesterday so he could say goodbye properly before he headed out." 'Maybe he'd have given it to you if you hadn't been such a primo be-atch!' she thought.
Dawn deliberately avoided telling her sister that she knew Spike had every intention of coming back. Spike had all but said that he still wanted to come round, but Buffy didn't want him in the house. It was up to her to help her retarded sister wake up and smell the hottie.
Buffy might think everyone was oblivious, but she (and Willow) knew there was something going on with Spike. There was only one vamp she could have been talking about when she made that comment about, "He's not getting any gentler." The stuttering when she tried to cover had been a sure give away. When she was startled Buffy was a crap liar. It had been common knowledge for ages how Spike felt about Buffy, so if they were sneaking around getting grass stains on Buffy's duffle coat but not telling anyone they were seeing each other, it had to be Buffy being a bitch. Dawn would bet a year's allowance that given half a chance, that the Big Bad would be as soppy as any overgrown teenager with his first date.
Dawn swore if Buffy didn't get a grip soon and make an honest vamp of him, then she'd give Buffy a run for her money in a couple of years. She was made from Buffy. In a way she was a younger Buffy, and let's face it Spike wasn't getting any older. They already loved each other, but for it to ever be anything else would take years. She knew that Spike didn't consider her in a sexual way, so for now her unrequited crush was doomed to remain just that. The thing was she also loved him like an older brother, a dropped-dead gorgeous older brother who happened to be no relation, perhaps, but she loved him just the same, so she wanted him to be happy now.
"Goodbye? He didn't tell me he was leaving. Why didn't he tell me he was leaving?"
"Why doesn't he get invited to Scooby meetings? Or birthday parties? Why should he tell you?" Dawn finished her drink and picked up her bag. "You all only give him the time of day when you need him for something nobody else can do. Everybody treated him like a person over the summer, but as soon as you were back, he was disposable. You can't cope with how he feels about you, so everyone starts treating him like garbage." She grasped the door-handle. "See you when you get in from work." Dawn made her exit.
'How's that for something to think about while you're flipping burgers?'
"Wait, where was he going?" Buffy rushed to catch the door before it shut.
At the far end of the path Dawn pretended not to hear.
* * * * *
Buffy had a nine o'clock start that day, so she didn't have an opportunity to find out any more about Spike's disappearance until later. All of which meant she had far longer than she would have liked to think about what Dawn had said, and how she'd managed to drive another man away, not that she wanted him, and he wasn't really a man either.
Maybe, she wasn't the only person who was using him. During her break she rang Tara and arranged to meet her for a coffee after she got off work.
* * * * *
Tara was already seated at a table drinking an iced mocha when Buffy made it to the coffee bar. Buffy quickly ordered and then joined her.
"Okay, sweetie, what's up?"
In her present state, Tara's innocent question gave Buffy pause. Apart from asking her to her birthday party, Buffy realised that since "the split" she had only spoken to Tara when she wanted something.
"Hey, I don't want you to think there has to be something up before I call you… There is, but I also thought I'd ask if you wanted to go to the Bronze with Dawn and I on the first Friday after the wedding?"
"Sure, but you could have asked that one over the phone, so spill."
"Spike's gone… and he didn't even say goodbye." It was impossible to judge from Buffy's voice how she felt about that.
"Oh! Which bit of that is the bit that's worrying you?"
"Both… neither… I don't know… maybe, that he might think I wouldn't care that he left?"
"Well, I don't think he'd expect you to get all upset over him going away for a few days. Maybe he was just busy getting ready to leave and he didn't have-."
Buffy cut in as she realised what Tara just said. "Why did you say it's just for a few days?"
Tara looked slightly embarrassed. "He left a message asking if I'd do a spell for him. He said he'd probably be at the wedding, but if he wasn't not to worry. It was too late to go to the Magic Box yesterday by the time I got the message, but I was going to head over there after we finished here."
"He didn't want you to do a love spell on me, did he?" Buffy immediately thought of Spike's reaction to Drusilla's rejection.
"Quite, the opposite in a way. He wanted me to do a protection spell on everyone."
"What is he up to?"
"Anyway, it seems to me that there can't be any harm in putting up a protective spell. I just wish I knew what I was meant to be protecting against. There's one other strange thing though. He said to do the spell on everyone to be on the safe side, but he asked very specifically to see that you, me and Dawn were covered, and that I should use the most powerful spell I could do."
"So he phoned you, and he made a point of seeing Dawn, but he couldn't even come in when he dropped her off to tell me he was going."
"Buffy, he phoned me because he wanted me to do the spell, not because he was doing a big goodbye speech, and he said he was going to phone Anya to let her know that he would cover the bill for anything I needed for the spell. He should be back on Saturday. I bet the only person that got a special goodbye was Dawn. You two have had an argument, right? He probably thinks he'll be back before you notice he's gone."
"But, I broke up with him yesterday morning, and then this morning Dawn was wearing his coat. Sh-she said he gave it to her as a reminder of him when he said goodbye."
"Buffy, how upset was Dawn this morning?"
"She wasn't… she was all excited at having his coat…" Comprehension finally "dawned" on Buffy. "The little…" Buffy looked for a word suitable to use for a member of her own family.
"Minx?" Tara smiled softly.
"If you broke up with him that morning, he probably just wanted some breathing space to pull himself together, in which case you would be the last person he'd be wanting to speak to. How did he take it?"
Buffy thought about what he'd looked like and tears welled up behind her own eyes. "He looked like a man who just had his heart broken. He all but begged me not to do it. Then I told him that using him was killing me. I never thought anyone could look so hurt. I never want to see another person look at me like that again. It was like however much he was hurt for himself, just the thought that I was in pain was ten times worse. After that he just stopped arguing." Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh, Buffy." Tara's voice conveyed a world of sympathy.
"I've been such a bitch since I came back, and he still cares more about my feelings than all the hurt I've caused him." Tara moved to sit beside Buffy rather than opposite her. She put her arms round the smaller woman and let her cry on her shoulder.
"I wanted to love him. I told myself for months that I couldn't, that he was evil, that he was a soulless vampire and I was a slayer. If I could love him them I hadn't rid the world of hundreds of monsters; I'm a mass murderer. I kept him at a distance for so long. I told myself it was just sex. As soon as my knees stopped shaking, I ran. No holding, no cuddling. I never let him say a tender word, never let him be gentle with me." She sniffed and wiped away tears from her face.
"When Riley came back… I can't believe I did this. I was sort of flirting with him. I think maybe I thought we'd get back together. I was just about to kiss him when his wife turned up. And they're happy. You can tell from a mile off that they're happy. I was supposed to be the love of his life. Everybody said he loved me but I held back, so why is he over me and happy with someone else, and I'm alone." She tried to smile at Tara through the tears.
"I felt so alone and I just wanted to be loved, so I went to Spike. I made him tell me he loved me and that he wanted me. I let him open up his heart to me and lay himself open. I let him hold me, and, God, when we made love I swear we both cried. I don't think I made a conscious decision, but I don't think I could have put things back how they were before.
It was like making a fresh start, but he was lying to me the whole time. I'd asked him about "the Doctor" and he'd acted as if he never heard of him, but it was him. He was who I'd been looking for and he just lied through his teeth. What I thought was this incredible love scene was his way of stopping me from looking downstairs. His bedroom was full of demon eggs that he was even too stupid to store properly, so we spent the night on top of a stone coffin."
"Buffy, I think you're wrong. He wouldn't … I mean I'm sure his feelings were genuine. Besides, have you never noticed that Spike has to be almost the worst liar I've ever seen? He stutters nearly as bad as me. Didn't he have any explanation?"
"He said he had… but I wouldn't listen to him…" Buffy began to consider that there might be shades of grey in this discussion. "He still had the eggs though. There just can't be a good reason for him to have those. If Riley and I hadn't been there when they hatched, who knows how many people would have been killed?"
"Who would have been first?"
"What are… Oh. Him."
"And did you stop to think why with all the empty crypts and everything just in his cemetery why were they in his bedroom?"
Buffy looked even more unsure of herself.
"You said he didn't store them properly. Are you sure he even knew what they were? Vampires may be virtually immortal, but even so you don't live to Spike's age if you're stupid. There are too many loose ends. I think maybe you should at least hear him out on that explanation, sweetie."
"Riley found us together. He … He said that it was … within mission parameters … He asked me if I wanted him to kill him." Buffy looked up, her eyes red but no longer crying. "I can't let him close. Some day he'll do something and people'll be hurt or killed and I'll have to kill him."
"Like you killed Xander?"
"What? What are you saying?"
"Xander was directly responsible for the deaths of all those people who burned to death when he summoned that singing demon. As I recall no one, not even Giles, said a single harsh word to him.
I don't know about these eggs, but since Spike said he was in love with you, there's been some stuff he's done that's been pretty warped, like chaining you up and the robot, but I can't think of anything that's actually evil. It seems the more he's around people, the more he remembers to act like a person."
"Dawn said we all ignore him except when we need him. She said he had a place when I was dead. That when I came back he wasn't needed any more and because I wasn't comfortable around him everybody treats him like dirt."
"I know over the summer, no one thought anything of it if he stopped by the house to see Dawn even if he wasn't babysitting, and he was quite often babysitting. You'll know better than I do how often he comes over now. Xander toned it down a bit for a while, when he saw, well it hit Spike really hard, you know. Now Xander's acting like it's his job to keep Spike away from you again. That causes friction that carries over into their whole relationship. Giles was basically the same again, but even more extreme. One day they're patrolling together and cracking jokes and a couple of months later you get that comment about Giles never wanting Spike's opinion. The guys see him as a threat you have to be protected from and I don't think he's comfortable visiting Dawn any more. All of us used to go out on patrol together except Dawn so that was a group thing. Does he go to meetings now?"
"So he was better off when I was dead."
"No! I don't think Dawn meant that and I know Spike would never say that."
"Even so, he got on better with everybody else when I wasn't here." Buffy sighed.
* * * * *
Dawn was overjoyed when she got a text message the following Thursday. "STILL LA. BACK V LATE FRI. LEAVE COAT CRYPT? FOR WEDDING SAT. C U SOON."
Buffy on the other hand had no idea that her sister was in contact with Spike. She had started to patrol until she was all but exhausted in an effort to forestall the dreams in which he had a starring role. Her conversation with Tara had left her in a sort of limbo until she heard exactly what Spike's explanation was. She had been sure about her decision. Now it had been called into question. Would things ever be simple where Spike was concerned?
* * * * *
Spike was enjoying himself. The girl from the club had brought her sister with her. They had also brought a bunch of tapes. He'd told her that he'd made the mistake of leaving home with only the tape that was in the deck at the time. They had discussed musical tastes and found some common ground. Some was expected, the Cramps, the Damned, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Clash but he was more surprised to find that she also liked some things that he knew must have come out decades before she was born. Early Rolling Stones, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, delta blues, Motown and Louis Armstrong.
It had been just after dusk when he picked the girls up. They had loved the de Soto, but been puzzled by the blacked out windows. Spike had been expecting this and putting on a bad eastern European accent he said, "I am Nosferatu, childe of darkness, drinker of blood." He switched back to his normal voice; "Actually it means I can sleep through the day in the car when I have to if I get stuck in the middle of nowhere." As expected the girls, (one was called Jenny and the other Jane, but he wasn't actually sure which was which so he avoided using either name) thought he was joking about the vampire bit, especially when he ordered pizza at a roadside diner.
They had stayed off the freeway taking roads running along the coast. They wound all the windows down, playing tapes at full volume and singing along even louder, no doubt scaring old ladies and small children in some of the smaller towns they passed through. Some of the songs were obvious seaside road-trip music, like the Beach Boys and California Dreamin' by the Mama's and the Papa's. Some just appealed to the girls' sense of the absurd, for example The Sisters of Mercy doing a cover version of Jolene by Dolly Parton. He wondered what the girl's reaction would be if he made the necessary detour to knock down the Sunnydale sign, but then decided to do it when he went to pick up his duster instead.
It had been a very long time since he had spent this much time with people who didn't know what he was. He sometimes still found it difficult to talk to strangers, and in Sunnydale his reputation preceded him in a lot of cases. He felt for the first time in ages as if he was being judged for who he was not what he was. As they approached the outskirts of Sunnydale, the three gave fair warning to all those who could hear them coming.
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line between good and evil
Spike had rung ahead and booked two rooms for them at a small motel, a twin room for the girls and a double for him. He would normally have stayed at his crypt, but since he wanted to be more presentable than the norm in the morning he had decided that running water would be an advantage. He'd bought some new clothes as well while he was in LA and he wanted to avoid having them smell of cordite at the wedding.
Once he had sorted out their registrations, he explained he had to run an errand and would see the girls later. When he got back he pulled the car in as close to his room door as possible. He was surprised to see a note stuck to his room door with chewing gum, and written in dark purple lipstick. "Gone for midnight swim. See you at beach?"
Spike tried, without success, to remember the last time he'd gone swimming. Why the hell not?
* * * * *
The next morning Spike was not in the best of moods. The three had stayed up really late. They had swum and then they had gone for a walk along the beach and finally they had lit a bonfire, opened a case of beer and sat talking for hours, until a sudden storm had blown in from the sea, and their dwindling fire had been swamped. In theory, he could have had four or five hours sleep before he had to get ready for the wedding. In practice, the thought of seeing Buffy again the following day made sleep impossible.
He didn't know which he dreaded more, seeing her happy without him or seeing her miserable. He thought about getting in the car and driving across town just so he could park down the street and watch her house. Maybe if he drove over, her light would be on and he'd know she couldn't sleep either. Then he remembered his conversation with Dawn and decided that he was not going to leave any more cigarette butts anywhere where she might find them. He could stay away from Buffy. He walked past the car and back down to the beach. The weather made it a rather unpleasant place to be, but still he preferred it to his motel room. He walked off down the beach, choosing the opposite direction to that taken by the group earlier.
* * * * *
Six hours later, Spike and his date (he still couldn't remember if she was Jenny or Jane) pulled up outside the Sunnydale Bison Lodge.
"What d'ya think? Arms round shoulders, holding hands, what?" Spike exited the car and moved to meet his fellow conspirator.
"Shoulders. Looks more intimate."
"Shoulders it is then, pet." He placed an arm around her and steered her toward the main door of the building.
Spike couldn't believe how nervous he felt about seeing her again. He scanned around to see if she was in the foyer, but he couldn't see her so he began to move to one side away from the doors. He heard his name being called from the far side of the room. Before he turned round, which was more complicated than it sounds as he was still joined at the shoulders to his date, he whispered, "little sister".
"Oh. Uh, I want you to meet my date." Spike was rapidly convincing himself that this was one of his worse ideas.
"Hi. I'm Dawn." She held out her hand for a handshake. Spike listened to see if his date said her own name in response.
"Uh-huh."
"So, yeah. Anyway, that's my date. She's with me. My date for the wedding." 'When will I learn to put my brain in gear before I start my mouth?' Spike asked himself even as he continued to babble at Dawn.
"Yeah. Okay, well, nice meeting you." Dawn wondered if there was the slightest possibility of that girl being a real date, and decided the answer was no. The way he had his arm round her was too stiff. They both looked tense at being so close. Dawn would bet he didn't know her name. Quite possibly she didn't know her own name, unless it really was "Uh-huh". But hey, if he wanted to try making Buffy jealous, who was she to spoil the fun. In fact, time to go spread the news.
"Very cool?" His date looked him over. The hair was perfect. The black satin shirt was open just enough to show a hint of smooth white chest. There was no way to improve on the duster and he had a brand new pair of "New Rock" boots he'd bought specially instead of his normal scuffed lace-ups. "Calm down, you're acting like a nervous wreck and you've not even seen her. You look great. She's going to be wearing a dress that should be illegal outside of a St Patrick's day parade. You have the upper hand. Let's go."
"Eh, go where?"
"Well, she's not here, so let's try the reception room."
His date looked around the room. She turned and whispered in Spike's ear.
"Say, Spike, did you put something in the milk for my cornflakes this morning, or are some of these people not people?"
"Oh, they're all people, they're just not all human. Long story. Don't worry about it."
"Ri-i-ight."
Spike, had a bad feeling. Harris's dad had just got up to propose a toast. The bar had yet to officially open but Harris snr. had probably bullied the bar staff into serving him and was already slurring his words. If the arguments he'd heard when he'd stayed with Xander, were anything to go by no one wanted to hear any toast the elder Harris might make in his current state, not least because he was the only one in the room who had a drink. Somebody better shut him up, fast, and look, monkey boy was leaving the room with some old fart instead of doing anything about it. Maybe if they'd asked him to be an usher he might have done it for them, but not his job. If Harris wanted to get a bunch of cousins that he never saw as opposed to someone they knew, even if he didn't like the bricklayer then it was up to them to stop the trouble, not him. Harris deserved all the embarrassment his father could provide and serve him right too. Demon-bint didn't deserve it though. A quick smack in the mouth might work, but it wasn't going to get him any Brownie points.
Too late now, anyway, that tentacle demon obviously had the same idea.
Suddenly, Buffy was there, steering the drunken patriarch from the room. She had an arm round him and he had his head bent over toward her, trying to look down the front of her dress. Spike could hear the lewd suggestions that he was making to her and he wanted to punch him out even more. He realised he'd been staring and he turned around to face his date again. How could she let him touch her, say things like that to her. He smiled when he heard her tone change from the overly bright one she'd been using. "You finish that sentence and I guarantee you won't have anything to show." Now, that was his Buffy.
Even with that dress, a hunk of yellow nylon the size of a dead cat stuck to the back of her head and an inebriated lech attached to her arm he thought she looked beautiful.
"So that was the one?"
"Yeah. That's her."
"You've got it bad for her haven't you?"
"Bad as it gets, I reckon."
"D'you want to talk to her? Or d'you just want to admire her from a distance?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose if we talk here we have to keep it civilised."
"So… I'll go pretend to fix my make-up. That should get you a full ten minutes. You wait in the corner over there. She'll be going backwards and forwards between, the foyer, the reception hall and the rooms where the rest of the wedding party are. If you hang around there she has to go past."
Spike looked around, not so much scanning the room as trying to avoid staring at anyone now that he had nothing to fill the time until his date came back or someone he knew turned up for him to talk to. He became aware that the footsteps, which had been heading rapidly toward the door, had come to a stop some distance away. He looked over, and it was her, Buffy, obviously reluctant to go past him. Uncomfortable, he looked at the floor, hoping the lack of eye contact would allow her passage. Head down, he watched her feet approach. His eyes flicked upwards and once he looked into her face he couldn't let her go without saying something. He straightened up from his slouched position against the wall, so that she now stood directly facing him.
"Hello, Buffy"
"Hey."
"So, the happy occasion." Out of small talk Spike tried bravado, "You meet my friend?"
"No. Not yet. But she seems like a very nice attempt at making me jealous."
He gave a small snort. She found him so transparent. "Is it working?"
"A little. It doesn't change anything… but if you're wildly curious, yeah, it hurts."
"I'm sorry." His first reaction to her pain was remorse, and then he remembered that that had been the point of the exercise, "Or… Good!"
Buffy smiled, amused by his ambivalence.
"You want us to go?"
"No. No, I… You have every right to be here. I pretty much deserve-."
"That's not true, you…" Automatically he defended her, even from herself, his feelings there to be seen in his eyes. He sighed and looked to the heavens for inspiration. "God, this is hard."
"Yeah."
He sighed again. "I think we'll go."
"Go where? To your place?
"Yeah, I suppose." The motel was basically his place at the moment, at least until he got the crypt cleaned out. "That was the idea."
"Yeah."
"Evil."
"Of course."
"But I won't. Or I…" His awkwardness was overcome by frustration. "I'll just go. Give 'em my best or whatever. The happy couple."
"I will."
His grimace turned into a quiet smile.
"It's nice to watch you be happy. For them, even. I don't see it a lot. You, uh… you glow."
Buffy smiled. "That's because the dress is radioactive."
Spike gave a brief snort of amusement and a whole second passed where they just enjoyed the moment together.
"I should…" Buffy broke the silence, hinting at duties to perform.
"Yeah." He moved marginally aside, as she moved round him.
"But it hurts?" Spike sought again the reassurance that he was not alone in his pain.
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Buffy waited till he was beyond the range of human hearing before she said, "You're welcome." But then Spike wasn't human.
Spike intercepted Jenny or Jane or whatever the hell her name was on her way from the toilet, taking her by the hand.
"Let's go then." He moved towards a fire exit, pulling the girl in his wake.
"What about the wedding?"
"Let's just piss off, all right?" He dragged his off-balance date through the door.
Next chapter: Spike gets his rocks back and stands up for himself (but if you want to see it please review because I'm almost at the point of deleting the story and just e-mailing copies of the story to the one or two people who seem to still be reading,)