Chapter 6: It's Time to Get Acquainted
The music of the Bronze was pulsing, filling the air with the staccato bass beats of blaring electronica to accompany the teenage, hormone-ridden atmosphere of the place. Buffy sat grumpily at a table, her eyes scanning the club for a familiar, tall, brooding character.
"Where is he?" She wondered aloud, prompting Willow to turn from Oz mid-conversation.
"Who? Spike? Don't worry, he said he'd come."
Buffy snorted. "And I'm just counting the minutes until he arrives. No dummy, I mean Angel."
"Oh. You were expecting him?"
"Kinda. He said that he might stop by."
"Who?" Xander approached with arms full of drinks and snacks for all. "Spike?" His nose wrinkled in distaste.
"No. Angel."
Xander snorted wrathfully. "In between the Unholy Creature of Darkness and Angel, I'm thinking we should really reevaluate the guys we hang out with."
"I dunno, I think we have pretty good taste." Willow smiled softly, wrapping her arms around Oz who lovingly kissed her on the cheek. As she suddenly spotted a familiar black duster floating through the crowd, Willow pried her hands away from her boyfriend and waved towards it. "Oh, there he is now! Spike!" she called.
Swerving his head, he struggled to walk past the crowd to reach them. "Hey all," he smirked, grasping a bottle of Heineken.
Buffy frowned. "Where'd you get that?"
He looked down at the mint-colored bottle. "This? From the bar."
"Yes we know this," Xander stated impatiently. "We were more questioning you're legal status as to possess and consume such contraband. Here in America, we underagers don't feast on the ale like you drunken Anglo-Saxons do."
Spike whistled. "Look at the big bad narc. Got me shakin' in my boots, Harris. Gonna administer the frying pan and egg 'This is your bloody head on crack' lecture as well? Cause I'm all ears." Slumping in a chair he took an enthusiastic swig of beer. "Asked the barkeep for a beer. Handed me one in good faith. End of story."
"He didn't card you?" Buffy arched a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Weell, a little friendly persuasion was involved," Spike conceded. He shot an impish grin. "Perhaps in the form of saying to the man, 'give me a beer or I'll pummel you till your balls fall off'."
"So strong arming the bartender. Wow, I can't wait to introduce my mom. 'Look mom, my new best bud is the local menacing bully. Lock all the liquor cabinets'." Xander shook his head disdainfully.
"You wish Harris. You'd like that wouldn't you, to tell all your sorry geek friends you're heart-to-heart with the coolest guy in school?"
"Coolest guy? Sorry, I think we're all out of those at this table," Xander replied pointedly. "Well, with the obvious exception of our beloved wolf-boy here."
"Oh Xander, you flatter me and the blushing soon commences," Oz remarked dryly.
"Where's Angel?" Buffy resumed mumbling to herself, waving her head around in vain to catch a glimpse of him lurking in the shadows somewhere.
Spike frowned. "Angel?"
"Her main squeeze," Willow clarified.
His eyes widened with understanding. "Oh . . . Angel. So you swing that way, do you?"
"What?!"
"You know . . . bumps on bumps action? Only person who's got a name like Angel is usually a big busty blonde with lots n' lots a bouncy hair."
Buffy shook her head. "Is it just me, or is anyone hopelessly lost the minute he opens his mouth?"
Spike sighed impatiently. "I'm talking you and your bloody significant lesbo. Not that I mind such that kind of thing. Hell, I don't think any hot-blooded teenage boy minds that kind of thing."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Angel's a guy, Spike."
"A guy? Well that's a poof's name if ever I've heard one."
Buffy opened her mouth to administer a cutting comeback, but Cordelia swept in at that moment, carelessly pushing Buffy aside rudely as she slouched closer to Spike.
"There you are Spike! I've been looking everywhere for you!" She looked at the rest with distaste and coldness. "I see you're still foreign to the proper rules of coolness here in Sunnydale." She pointed exaggeratedly to all seated at the table. "You see, these freaks and losers are not the crowd you want to be associating with if it's a social life you hope to maintain. Now if it's lessons in how to be total rejects with nothing better to do but hang in a libr--"
"As much as I enjoy these fun-filled tirades of yours, Cordy, they really are unnecessary. You want Spike, you can have him." Xander interrupted and glared at Spike with emotion usually reserved for his female nemesis.
"And just when I thought we are getting to be the best of friends!" Spike sighed sarcastically.
"Ok then, it's settled. How about a spin on the dance floor, Spike?" Cordelia had already grasped his hand tightly and was dragging him away from the table.
"Wait." Spike stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head ruefully. "I don't dance. No two-steppin'-Achy-Breaky-pansy-crap for me."
"Well maybe you should start because if you don't go with me, Harmony will soon get her big meat hooks into you before you know what hits you," Cordelia said, waving her head towards a fast approaching Harmony, who was stalking towards Spike with the force of a tigress. Panicked, Spike grabbed Cordelia's hand and ran towards the dance floor.
"Right then. Here we go."
Soon, the rest of the group was left staring at Spike being helplessly caught in between Cordelia and a fuming Harmony, who soon instigated a catfight between herself and Cordy. Much scratching and hair pulling ensued, with Spike left on the sidelines, amused and utterly confused.
"I put down ten on Vapid Blonde!" Xander announced eagerly to the rest of the surveyors, slapping a bill down onto the table.
"I dunno, Cordy's got a couple inches on Harmony, plus she's got those spiky Italian stiletto heels on," Willow observed, wincing as Cordelia whipped off one shoe and hurled it at Harmony's head. "Yikes. That's gotta hurt."
"No, I gotta go with the manicure factor," Oz remarked. "Look at the fake nails on Harmony!"
"Why in damnation are they fighting over Spike in first place?" Buffy wrinkled her nose at the scene. Harmony had begun to do some real damage, using the fact that Cordelia had one of her shoes off to her own advantage. Xander spilt over, laughing hysterically as Cordelia hopped around on one foot with as much dignity as she could muster. "I mean, if it was someone like Brad Pitt, I would understand going for the full-on hissy fit."
"O-or Freddy Prinze Junior!" Willow sighed dreamily over her fantasy teen media-god.
"Pfft. That personality-less wannabe thespian? I sooner fight for Spike than him."
"Fight for who?" As usual, Angel made his entrance by furtively sidling up to Buffy before she ever knew he was there. She was always a bit jolted when he did this, his cold hands settling loosely around her arms, his body pressed slightly against her back, but then again, she always felt jolted in his presence.
"Geez Angel! You are quite the lurker!" Buffy wrapped her arms around him anyway, inwardly ecstatic to see him.
"Force of habit. Us vampires aren't really acquainted with walking. We lurk instead." He paused when he saw how Buffy recoiled at the slightest mention of any connection he had to his darker nature. "What's going on here?" he said, abruptly changing the subject as he looked towards the prizefight that everyone was intently watching. "Another apocalypse?"
"Naw, just two irrational females fighting over some scumbag." Xander pronounced the words with relish. Angel looked back at the two screeching girls and blonde male, who sat lazily reclined against the stage, cigarette in hand.
"Spike I guess?" Angel nodded towards the distinctively sniggering teen, which he recognized through Buffy's descriptions.
"In the flesh. Though why those two are duking it out over that particular flesh is still a mind-puzzler."
Angel studied the young man hard. There was something familiar about him somehow . . . he couldn't quite put his finger on it . . . like he had known or met him before . . . in a dream perhaps. Yet he had never meet Spike before, ever . . . as far as he knew. Nonetheless, the sight of Spike suddenly made Angel feel very sick inside.
"Angel?" Buffy placed a worried hand on Angel's shoulder gently to stir him out of his trance. "Are you okay? Is there something wrong?"
Angel shook off his fixated stare on Spike. "Huh? Oh, no, nothing's wrong." Buffy remained unconvinced as she scrutinized Angel's dark expression. It's nothing, he thought, trying to calm himself. You're just hungry, that's all it is. He made the mental side note to visit the butcher plant on the way home.
Growing tired of the bitchfest, Spike threaded back through the crowd towards the table. A chuckle under his breath and his cigarette still flopping out his mouth, he reached for the half-empty beer bottle. "Well I must say, this is a strange town. In the part of London I lived in, there were transvestite hookers on the corner and monkey peddlers with dressed-up dwarfs banging on their pipe organs. This town is by far stranger." Reaching for another cigarette, he brushed roughly against Angel. "Sorry mate," he said without looking up. He continued chuckling as he lit the cigarette expertly, a thin cloud of smoke whispering out of his mouth. "I mean, you've got the girls with the----" He absently looked up to face Angel, who stood towering over him with an apprehensive look on his face. Spike's face immediately turned ashen, the newly enjoyed cigarette tumbling out of his gaping mouth.
"Spike, this is Angel," Buffy sighed through introductions. "Angel, Spike." She smiled, self-satisfied at Spike, tucking an arm around Angel's elbow. "See? Male. Got the Y-chromosomes and everything. My boyfriend."
Spike stood completely still and did not respond. It seemed like years of silence passed between the two males, one a boy, the other a vampire, both of their faces glazed over with an indescribable expression of familiarity. Angel cleared his throat and offered a hand stiffly. "Spike. Nice to meet you. Buffy's told me about you."
Spike clenched his teeth and surprised all by ramming his fist in Angel's jaw. Stunned, Angel stumbled back a few paces but Spike had already lunged at him and had him pinned against a column. Smashing his beer bottle against a table, Spike jutted the shard near to his face, his other hand trapping Angel's neck. Buffy grabbed his raised arm before he could do any damage.
"What the hell are you doing?!!!" Buffy screamed, throwing Spike off Angel. She had forgotten her own strength and Spike went flying into an opposite column. But already he had picked himself up and grabbed a nearby pool cue, snapping it half on his knee and advancing back onto Angel, prepared to stake him if not for Oz, Willow and Buffy all holding him back.
"You!" Spike snarled at a conflicted Angel, his whole body squirming against his restraints. "I knew I would find you one day!"
"What are you talking about Spike, you know him? You know Angel?" Buffy tried to calm her breathing, panicked at both Spike's erratic behavior and her boyfriend's near stakage. "How?"
Spike glared at Angel with even more hatred than he ever carried for his father. Veins in his neck strained against pale skin, his muscles tensed, visible through layers of black. Deliberately, slowly, he rasped out the words as his eyes glazed over with intense malevolence. "He killed my mother."