Part 1: That Whole Garbo Thing Going On
Looking around, Buffy decided that it was just the type of bar her Mother had always warned her about. Gloomy, airless and full of dim little corners, it was the sort of place be-suited business types spent their lunch hour getting slowly and belligerently drunk before propositioning you in the most offensive way possible. In short, it was exactly what she was looking for.
"Can you make a decent margarita?"
The handsome, green-eyed young man behind the bar eyed her lazily, before leaning down to rest his elbows on the countertop in front of her. Looking back at him, she imagined that the warm, open-hearted smile he offered her had probably convinced a multitude of young girls before her to bear their souls to him. Followed no doubt, by the rest of their bodies. But then, Buffy was no ordinary young girl.
"Save it for someone who cares. Just don't skimp on the tequila."
Ignoring his petulant scowl, she let her eyes drift around the rest of the room. Nothing even remotely otherworldy, just a couple of drowsy drunks and one fidgety couple who were obviously having an affair. The girl's gaze skipped nervously about, locking briefly with her own before dropping with an unmistakably guilty air, aware that her sin had been noticed. Uncomfortable, Buffy squinted in her direction for second longer, hoping she might think she was short-sighted, but the young woman had already turned to hide her face.
"There you go."
The salt-rimed cocktail slid expertly to a stop right under her nose, and she turned back to face it. Swallowed the whole thing down in one ice-cold sour gulp and shoved it back towards him.
"Just keep 'em coming."
A raised eyebrow greeted her request, but he complied, refilling her glass before silently retreating to the other side of the bar. Watching him from the corner of one eye, Buffy smiled grimly but gratefully. He had the makings at least of a really good barman; knew just when to keep his mouth shut. Taking a sip of her second drink, she discarded the lime slice and the little green cactus with a irritable flick of her wrist.
Frills.
As she got older she found that she had less and less patience for them. They were affectations, just something put there to divert your attention away from the actual product on offer. They were...what was the word Giles had used last week when she had explained it to him? They were 'extraneous'. It was such a British-sounding word, but then it was sort of a British ideal. A lack of decoration, of glitter and dazzle; that was Giles through and through. Honest. Straightforward. No-nonsense. Non-extraneous. It was what she appreciated these days. More than that, it was what she needed. It wasn't so much that she didn't have the patience, more that she now truly understood that time was her most precious commodity.
And he had always been that way too, with her at least. No flowers. No frills. No pretty words, and no dressing up what needed to be said. He saw things for what they were, saw through the traps and barriers she'd always put there to protect herself, and then told her the honest truth. That none of it mattered. That they could only ever be what they were, feel whatever it was they felt. And that he loved her.
She frowned deeply before tossing her head back to sink the last of it. Rapped the glass down with a trifle more force than she'd intended.
"Hey! People getting thirsty over here!"
It wasn't that she hated hearing him say it, but for so long the words on his lips had been the catalyst for everything bad. He'd said it and she'd wanted to hurt him, wanted to tear the sentiment right out of his dead heart. Because how could he, how dare he say that he loved her? How could a creature like him know her, or profess to understand her needs so completely? Because if he did, if he was truly her perfect match, then what did that make her? What kind of person could want him, a cold-blooded monster who'd feasted on the blood of thousands? She'd always touched that darkness, but she was never, could never be a part of it. She had to stay within the light, because the alternative...the alternative was unthinkable.
The third one tasted sweeter, but maybe it's friends had killed off some of her tastebuds. Either way it went down smoother and faster than the others, so fast that green-eyes didn't even have time to vacate his spot before he was topping her up again. He smiled, more tentatively this time and she half smiled back. Focused. Tried again. Full Buffy smile, all the teeth. Hey and...suddenly? He wasn't looking like such an asshole anymore.
"Don't even think about it."
She started violently at the sudden nearness of another voice, but the woman only smiled wryly at her, sliding gracefully onto the next stool and indicating the young barman in the same movement.
"The label may say Imported, but I can assure you he screws like Domestic."
Her hand moved smoothly to take a paper napkin from the holder, dropping it to soak up the cloudy pool of margarita she hadn't even realised she'd spilled.
"I'm sorry about that. Why don't you let me get you another?"
Something about her made Buffy want to say no, although it seemed pointlessly rude to refuse a perfectly innocent act of courtesy. The woman had barely even looked her way as she made the offer, eyes drifting aimlessly much as her own had a few minutes before to appraise the clientele in the place. Tracking her line of sight, she noticed her interest pique for a moment as she spied the couple huddling in the corner shadows. Her lips twitched,
"She's probably terrified someone from her office is going to walk in."
She turned to accept the unordered drink the bar man had brought her with a gracious smile, and raising it to her mouth, tasted it. Rolled her tongue back and forth, savouring the flavours, before tasting it again.
Something about her was odd, that was for sure, but it wasn't any something Buffy could put her finger on. Maybe it was simply her cool confidence, the ultra-feminine poise of her that put her on edge. Women like that had always done something to her self esteem, made her feel instantly so much less like a powerful Chosen Warrior and more like a short, twenty-two year old college drop-out with too many split ends and a blossoming career in the fast-food industry. Watching her drink, all the age-old insecurities tugged at her again, but for once she felt the need to face them down.
She was just a woman after all, only a little older and, she told herself firmly, not nearly as cute, blonde and tanned as her. She was trying to be friendly, maybe feeling as weary of the world of men as she was, and there was really no reason to feel intimidated by her just because she was wearing a watch she knew for certain cost the equivalent of three years of her salary.
"Do you know her?"
Buffy's attention snapped back from the couple, met her gaze full on, and fumbled.
"Do I...? No, I mean....she isn't, I don't even live in Los Angeles."
She almost blushed; God, how hick had that sounded? Cleared her throat and corrected herself,
"In L.A, I mean. I don't live here. I used to, but we...ah...we moved away."
"Right..."
She turned away.
Right? What did that mean? Right; like oh right, you look like the kind of girl who couldn't cut it in the big city? Right; like she was obviously just some small-town floozy an outing to the bright lights? Tossing her hair back to allow the golden waves to fall down attractively over bronzed shoulders, she gave the other woman her most dazzling and confident smile, crossing one leg over the other in almost unconscious mimicry.
"I mean I love the city, don't get me wrong. But L.A is so...."
she waved hand dismissively, a small brittle Cordelia-type laugh,
"It's so eighties, you know?"
Giving a nod, her companion's lips twitched upward in brief smile before turning her attention back to her drink again.
"I'm surprised you're old enough to remember."
Refilling her drink for the fourth time, Buffy's eyes met curiously with the barman's for a moment before her brain back-tracked. She frowned, unsure if she was irritated or flattered.
"Hey!! I had all the Care Bears, including that...one with...the cloud thing that everyone wanted for some reason. And an E.T lunchbox, before anyone else in my class had even seen the movie."
She lifted her chin,
"And I saw 'New Kids On The Block'...five...no...six times. Live!! And I still have my scarf."
Staring back at her, the woman gave her a long ice-cool look, before quirking one eyebrow upwards.
"Was it Jordan or Donnie though?"
Buffy's widened into saucers, before she got the joke. Raised her eyebrows in an echo,
"Are you kidding? That Donnie was fine."
They laughed, and she noticed that the other woman's sounded rusty, as if she hadn't used it in a long while. As if she hadn't had a lot to laugh about.
"I'm Buffy."
She held out her hand and was granted a lop-sided smile in return, maybe just at her old fashioned gesture. Maybe at her name. She nodded, touching fingertips to her's in only the briefest of gestures.
"Lilah."
Then, after holding her gaze for another long second, she moved silently back to her drink again as if they had never spoken.
Watching her, Buffy noted the subtle but unmistakable snub. The woman seemed to have all the attributes of a successful, confidence woman; the watch, the suit, the immaculate hair and nails, but she was a fraud like so many others. The merest possibility of connecting with someone else had sent her back behind an impenetrable wall and, despite her coldness and the completely successful bitch-queen-from-hell vibe she was throwing out, she couldn't help but feel empathy.
"Is something a matter?"
The slight dismissive movement of her head Buffy guessed was meant to communicate her answer, but then she had gotten so much better at reading negative body language since getting involved with Spike. The tiny shift of his jaw when he was angry but trying not to show it, the way he dropped his head as he held back a snarky comment. Sometimes she thought she could tell exactly how he was feeling just from the angle of his shoulder blades. Getting him to open up though, since he'd got his soul back? That was like trying to find her house keys when they'd slipped right down to the bottom of her bag.
"Did you try talking about it?"
Lilah's eyes flitted to her own, heavy with a mixture of scorn and disgust.
"Sure, but my jaw keeps getting tired."
Her expression was studied, as near perfect a performance as was possible and Buffy couldn't help admiring her skill, wondering how long had it taken her to erect such an imposing barricade. The bitch-queen thing was getting pretty tedious though.
"Maybe should try thinking about what you're going to say before you say it. You'd save a lot of time that way." she suggested brightly.
"Hey, that's good. Your Mother teach you that?"
"No, it's mine. I do have one about lemons and lemonade though. You wanna hear that?"
"Thanks Pollyanna, but I think I know it."
She let the barman refresh her drink again, then slid off the stool and walked calmly away. Unfolding a copy of the Financial Times, she seated herself at the furthest table in the room and Buffy turned back to the bar with a sigh.
Awww crap. Now she was alone again, with her thoughts. Just what she really didn't need today.
It wasn't that she felt any kind of deep connection with her, or even that she believed particularly strongly in that whole female solidarity crap, but other peoples' problems were far easier to think about than her own. That was one of the great things about being a counsellor. The kids came in full of angst and woe, feeling like their whole world was collapsing, and she could help. She could tell them that their worries weren't unusual, that their questions had answers, and then she could tell them what she might have done in a similar situation. But who could do that for her? Giles tried his best to answer her, but lately his advice seemed to be growing less and less useful. Plus, without the resources of The Council to inform him, he was no longer his old almanac-self on all subjects demon. The Scoobies and the Potentials obviously valued his seniority in a crisis, but if there was one thing her lifetime of experience had taught her it was that, inevitably, she was the one they would all turn to.
And then there was Spike, and he never spoke of needing her. He used phrases like; 'with you by my side' and 'we can do this together' and he never demanded anything. Not any more. Sometimes when they talked, in the evenings, in the quiet solitude of the basement when the house above them was in chaos, she thought that she felt almost perfectly content. There was a stillness to him now that after only a few minutes in his company, transmitted itself to her. Her breathing slowing, the almost constant migraine she carried in her temples evaporating like smoke, as she listened to his voice; telling her about the book he was reading, about something Giles had said, what the Potentials had been up to that day, how Amanda's natural swordsmanship was incredible. After a while their bodies would relax back against the wall, into the mattress of his cot, and sometimes she even allowed their thighs to touch.
She knew what was happening to them. She just didn't know what she was going to do about it.
"And have you tried talking about it?"
And suddenly she was back, on the pretence of refreshing her drink again, but they both knew she hadn't really had time to finish it. Her eyes were still harder than granite but there was something else there, something that flickered at the edges that she recognised. Pride and need. A combination she understood only too well. She shrugged, moving her knee aside to make room for her again.
"There's not much to say. As problems go, it's pretty run of the mill stuff."
"Does it explain what you're doing in a place like this?"
Their eyes drifted round to take in their surroundings a second time and Buffy allowed herself a wry smile.
"I guess I thought I 'vanted to be alone' you know," she spared a look at her companion who had seated herself again, albeit temporarily, "But maybe I don't after all."
She shrugged again,
"It's tough having to think about stuff. I think I'd rather just...not."
"Stuff being a guy?"
"Oooh yeah."
And they shared a knowing smile. Maybe the female solidarity thing wasn't such crap after all. Nodding slightly, the other woman twisted the stem of her glass silently between perfectly manicured fingernails. Obviously she wasn't much for conversation. Buffy cleared her throat, willing to be the one to start.
"I guess..." she made a gesture with one hand, realising as she did how drunk she already was, "I guess I'm just trying to figure out how I feel."
The woman, Lilah, gave a small laugh,
"You know how you feel, believe me."
"I do?"
She nodded once, decisively at her,
"You do."
Relieved to be able to admit it out loud, she let her lungs empty out in a long sigh.
"Yeah. I guess I do."
Lilah took a sip of her drink, nodded again.
"You just have to figure how you're going to tell everyone."
And that was a whole lot further than she wanted to go in this whole internal confronting the shitstorm of her personal life. A whole load of conversations she didn't even want to imagine. Least of all the first one, the one she would have to have with him.
"It's complicated."
That pretty much summed it up.
"Complicated why?"
Because he was evil.
Because now he isn't.
Because my sister wants to set him on fire.
Because Xander will probably never speak to me again.
Because Giles will never forgive me, not really.
Because Willow will give me that look, but her lips will say 'that's great Buffy, I'm so happy for you.'
Because he tried to rape me.
Because he's a monster, a killer and a murderer, and the things he's done to little children, oh Christ...to peoples' Mothers and Fathers, to hundreds and thousands of girls and women and families and homes and lives.
Because of seeing him burning on that cross.
Because he's not that person any more.
And because I'm in love with him.
She shrugged,
"It just is."
"It always is."
Swallowing the last of her drink, Buffy rested a hand lightly over the rim of her glass to delay the refill that was probably inevitable and sighed again. This time in defeat. Her shoulders slumped,
"He used to be evil."
To her confusion Lilah only smiled, raising her eyebrows briefly in acknowledgement. She rolled the contents of her drink around in the glass.
"Really? Like the 'no soul' kind of evil? Or just the plain old he-shot-my-dog vanilla kind?"
Eyeing her with suspicion, Buffy swatted the barman away as he attempted to circumvent her hand.
"You know about evil?"
Lilah gave a casual shrug,
"A little. I'm sort of in the business."
Buffy blinked at her uncertainly, until she clarified;
"I'm a lawyer, sweetie."
"Oh. Right."
For a moment she'd thought that she might be serious, but it was just another one of those jokes that people like her told. Like; 'how many people does it take to put out a burning lawyer...' She couldn't remember the punchline, but she remembered laughing as if she'd found it funny when she really didn't. For some reason jokes about the nature of human evil always failed to tickle The Slayer's funny bone.
"So what...you're saying you're evil?"
"It's a necessary requirement. Right above duplicity and amorality. Although the latter usually comes as a bonus to the whole..." she raised an eyebrow conspiratorially, "you know...the whole being evil."
She was funny, she'd give her that. But funny in a way that was almost always guaranteed to piss Buffy off, and she felt irritation finally begin to cut through her need for company.
"You know, you really shouldn't make jokes about that kind of thing."
The woman blinked rapidly for second as if she hadn't understood her, and then slowly a wide smile of dawning recognition began to spread across her face.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You weren't kidding were you?"
With a weary sigh, Buffy summoned the barman back over with a flick of the head. Being alone suddenly didn't seem so bad after all, the last thing she felt like doing on her first day off in six months was giving a lesson in the reality of Evil to a newbie.
"Just forget I said anything."
Undeterred, the woman leant forward, a faint smile on her lips.
"So let me get this straight. This guy you're in love with, he's what...a demon or something?"
Rounding on her with her last shred of patience, Buffy met her eyes with a deeply ironic smile,
"And what would you know about demons?"
Lilah laughed, tipped her glass back to empty the last drops before sliding it forward for another refill.
"Oh you'd be surprised, girlfriend. I can almost guarantee you'd be surprised."
