Buffy's Big Date

Since this branches off before "The Killer Within", ignore the whole Spike- in-chains and chip trouble that went on in that episode.



Buffy took another sip of her water as she smiled and nodded at her dinner partner. He was charming, polite, knowledgeable, interesting, and very handsome. So why was her attention wandering and her left leg beginning to jiggle impatiently under the table?

The restaurant was beautiful. Buffy hadn't been anywhere this upscale in a long, long time. She was as uncomfortably self-conscious as if she were wearing army fatigues and had a rifle strapped across her back. The woman was a warrior and this was no longer her environment. Even in her slinky little black dress and tasteful gold necklace, with her hair upswept and face carefully made up, she felt like a sham.

Wistfully she recalled the L.A. days when mommy and daddy would take their little princess out to dine on special occasions.

"....Buffy? Miss Summers?"

"Huh, I....the....what?" She stammered and blushed, trying to recall the last words Principal Woodie had said. And what was his first name again?! Why couldn't she keep it in her head?

"I asked if you've lived in Sunnydale all your life?" he repeated, patiently, brown eyes looking a little concerned at her inattention. 'Am I THAT boring,' he seemed to be thinking, 'or is she that much of a scatterbrain?'

"Oh! No. I moved here when I was in high school. We lived in L.A. before that. Before my mom and dad split...."

"So you've always been in California? It's been like being on permanent vacation for me here. No snow. No gray skies. No rudeness. I don't miss New York!"

Buffy smiled again and struggled to think of something to say. Her conversational skills seemed to have disappeared entirely as the years passed. If the subject wasn't, where do we find and how do we kill, she didn't seem to know what else to discuss. What did regular people talk about on dates? Jobs. Movies. The weather.

"Yes, we do have perfect weather here in SouthernCal," she remarked, inanely. Feeling further inanities about to spew out of her mouth in a torrent, Buffy was grateful that the waiter arrived with their food.

"This looks great," she murmured, sparing Principal Wood from any further observations on the weather.

"So, Buffy, are you enjoying working at the school? How does it feel to be an employee where you used to be a student?"

"Well, actually, since the old school blew up, I wasn't technically ever a student...er...that is at the new Sunnydale. Anyway, I AM enjoying talking to the kids and I don't know if I've thanked you enough yet for lining up the job for me. I mean, without a degree or anything, I can't believe you were able to talk the Board into giving me the position."

"You're welcome," he replied with a slight nod and a smile. "I think it's really helping the students to have someone nearer their age to talk to. You're quite popular with them, you know."

"Sometimes, when I'm listening, I wonder if I'm doing any good at all."

"Sure you are," he cut into his meat and carefully separated it from the bone. "You're doing more good than you know."

Embarrassed, Buffy turned her attention to her own meal, grateful to have her mouth occupied for awhile so she wouldn't put her foot in it and find herself out of a job.

********

As the evening progressed, the Slayer found herself increasingly uneasy about leaving her household unattended for so long. Visions of broken windows and doors, smashed furniture and an empty home, filled her mind. Bringers could have attacked and massacred.... or kidnapped.....everyone by now! She was a fool to think she could go on a date in the middle of this crisis.

Buffy caught herself tapping her spoon lightly against her glass in agitation, and forced herself to put it down and place her hands quietly in her lap. Again, she felt Wood's eyes probing at her.

"Is there something wrong, Buffy?" he finally asked, gently. "Trouble at home or......."

"No......Well, yes. The truth is...." she paused while she decided what version of the truth she could share. "The truth is I'm just - not comfortable. You know, dating an employer. Well, I guess actually the School District is my employer, but......" she trailed off in typical ditsy fashion.

"It's not that I'm not having a nice time," she began again. "You've been great. Really. It's me. I just. Well, I have a lot of responsibilities and no time and I don't know if I should be...."

"It's just dinner," he interrupted, a little coolly. "A date. Not dating."

"Yes, I know. Of course." Her mind begged, 'Can I go home now?' and it almost slipped past her lips as well.

"But if you're not comfortable," he smoothly continued, and motioned for the check.

*********

As she stepped from his car to the sidewalk in front of her home, Buffy breathed an almost palpable sigh of relief. Nothing broken, lights blazing in several of the windows, voices and laughter seeping out into the night, everything seemed to be in order.

He closed the car door behind her and stood with her, regarding the house.

"Sounds like Dawn has friends over," he remarked.

"Yeah. There's always someone coming and going here," she answered truthfully.

Putting out his hand, he took hers and shook it firmly.

"Thanks for coming. I....I'm sorry you felt uncomfortable."

"Oh! No. No really. I didn't mean....."

He held up a hand. "It's okay. See you at school on Monday." He turned to leave then paused. "But, Buffy, if you ever change your mind and want to...go out for coffee or something....just let me know."

Buffy watched the car out of sight before heading up the walk to her front porch. She glanced at the shadows where the porch swing stood half expecting to see the familiar gleam of platinum hair and to smell cigarette smoke wafting up. Since he'd been back, Spike had taken to sitting there, sometimes half the night, just watching. She didn't know if he ever took a puff of the cigarette. It was just something to hold as he kept vigil.

She knew he didn't sleep much and that being indoors, at least at night, made him nervous now. He said it made him feel like a lamb waiting for slaughter, that he wanted to keep his eyes and ears open for whatever was coming.

Personally, it made HER nervous to have him out there, unprotected, while she tried to grab a few hours sleep and ended up tossing and turning in her bed. She was afraid for him but she was also still a little afraid OF him....of what the First might force him to do. But her declaration of trust, "I believe in you", had made it impossible to ask him to submit to a shackled existence in her basement. Nevertheless, Buffy was always attuned to where Spike was and what he was up to.

Tonight he wasn't here. She headed inside the house to be greeted by girls, girls and more girls plus Andrew. She envied Xander and Anya their apartments, which they had retreated to the moment the imminent threat of Uber-Vamp death had dispersed.

Buffy warded off the girls' questions about her "Big Date" and, claiming a headache, went straight to her room. Well, almost straight. There was a quick detour to the kitchen, then out the back door to see if Spike was sitting in his other favorite spot, the back steps. He wasn't.

As she walked upstairs, she passed the new Potential, Schui Chin Lo something or other, and asked how the training had gone. The girl smiled, nodded, said something in Chinese and bowed. Buffy gave up and headed for the bathroom.

"Just a minute!" called a voice (Amanda? Miranda?) and the Chosen One sighed in exasperation. She had one hand on her doorknob when Dawn came puffing up the stairs, laden with two baskets of laundry.

"Hey, Buffy, just a minute! I had to rearrange again and now you have Amanda and Colleen in there with you. It was that or put them down in the basement with Spike!"

(Why don't we just put ME down in the basement with.....) "Um. Okay, Dawn. That's cool," Buffy took one of the laundry baskets from her sister.

"Everyone is supposed to pick up their clothes from the sorting table in the laundry room, but this stuff is yours and mine. I thought I'd better rescue it before they start 'borrowing' again!" Dawn explained.

Buffy laughed and hugged her sister with her free arm. "Have I told you yet how proud I am of the way you're managing the house? I couldn't do it! Slayer training - fine, but keeping everyone fed and clothed and away from each other's throats.....You could have a career in this. Maybe hotel management or something."

"No thank you! I'm getting a house full of servants someday and a nanny for any rugrats I might have. Being the mommy sucks!"

Buffy smiled, squelching any malicious thought about how nice it was for her sister to have the luxury of choosing whether or not to have a family, then started to enter her room again. She paused in the doorway, basket on hip.

"Um, Dawn?"

"Yeah?"

"Did any of the girls say how the training went tonight? How was Spike?"

"Fine, I guess." Dawn's face closed down as it always did now at the mention of his name. "Ask him."

"He's here?"

"Basement." She said, shortly, then turned and went into her room.

'Just ask him.' Sure that would be expected. It wouldn't be like she was making a special effort to seem him now would it? Checking in about the girls' training was totally appropriate. Buffy put the laundry basket in a corner of her crowded room, kicked off the heels that were making her legs ache, and quickly checked her makeup and hair in the mirror, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she was primping.

She went back downstairs, avoiding the boisterous gang in the living room, and slipped into the back hall then down the basement stairs. Soft strains of classical guitar met her ears, and Buffy wondered again what stranger had taken over Spike when he got himself that soul. He was seated on his pallet, back propped against the wall, one leg drawn up and a book resting on it. If he wasn't a vampire, he'd be going blind from trying to read in the dim glow of the candles he insisted on using instead of the single, naked electric bulb that hung from the ceiling.

"Hey," she offered, coming over to stand in front of him. "Nice music."

He turned down the volume on the boom box Willow had given him and looked up expectantly.

She leaned against a support post, heedless of the dust and cobweb smears she was probably leaving on her dress, and folded her arms over her chest.

"Good book?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Dylan Thomas. 'S okay. Not my favorite." He lapsed into silence, then gestured awkwardly at the spot next to him. "You could sit?"

"Sure." Buffy dropped down on the pallet and folded her legs under her, conscious of the way her dress was riding up her thigh. She tugged at the hem uselessly, gave up and began picking at a thread on the blanket instead.

"So....how was training tonight?"

"Good, I think." He was suddenly all business. "That Amanda's coming along. She has a real flair with the weapons. Rona's still too tentative, but all the rest are getting right aggressive. They're starting to trust themselves."

Buffy nodded her approval. "Maybe it's time to test them out on more dangerous opponents."

"I could likely scout out a nest of Zagroot to turn 'em loose on, if you think they're ready."

"Yeah. Those things are deceptively weak looking. It'd give 'em a real challenge."

"All right then. I'll see what I can find." There was another long silence broken only by the intricacies of Segovia's guitar picking.

"You're back early," Spike finally spoke.

She shrugged. "It was kinda weird being on a date with my boss. Besides, with the First still a big question mark, I'm not comfortable leaving everyone alone for too long. Made me twitchy."

"You know I'd look after 'em. You should go out and have fun sometimes. Get the bloody world off your shoulders and have a good time."

Buffy just looked at her fingers still picking at the blanket.

"Unless.....You don't trust me yet, do you?" He didn't sound hurt, just curious, so she answered truthfully.

"It's not you. It's what the First might do with you. It has occurred to me that it might creep back into your head again and start playing games."

"True enough." He pursed his lips, thoughtfully. "But I think....I feel....like I would know what was happening this time and be able to stop it. When I was there, in the cave, and it was wearing Dru's face and pushing....pushing at me, trying to make me doubt myself....and you, something seemed to snap into place all of a sudden. The confusion just blew away like clouds and I could see the truth. I don't think it can twist me around anymore."

"Good to know," Buffy answered for lack of anything better to say, but they both knew her eye would still be on him.

"So....." Spike changed the subject, now directing a teasing smile at her. "Apart from feeling 'weird' and 'twitchy', how was your date."

"Don't really want to talk about it," Buffy said. "Nice guy. Nice dinner. End of story."

"Oh, come now. For those of us who have no social life, give us a crumb. Let's have details."

"I'm not discussing this with you," her voice began to raise in that old familiar, bitchy Buffy way, and Spike just had to poke harder. Now that it was pretty clear that her evening out had been a failure, he was more than eager to press the issue.

"Was the guy boring? Rude? Too quiet? Monopolized the conversation? Bad breath? Pretentious? Arrogant? Ignorant? Bad dresser?" he teased. "Tell all, Buffy." He nudged her arm.

She glared at him for a minute and he thought maybe he'd pushed too far, then she shook her head, almost smiling, and leaned back against the wall.

"Turn up the music," she demanded and closed her eyes.

He did as requested, then watched her profile curiously to see if she would say anything else. When she didn't, he too leaned back against the hard cement and listened to the bright strains of music.

"You know," she finally said. "I've become such a social misfit, I can barely carry on a normal conversation. I know next to nothing about world events or even office gossip. I couldn't think of one damn thing to say to the guy."

Spike, prudently, kept silent and waited for more.

"It's like....my mind has revolved around the Hellmouth so long I feel like nothing exists beyond Sunnydale. When I've tried to take classes or leave town for a day trip to L.A., some new crisis always comes up. I can't stand to read or watch the news. It's hard to get worked up about wars or gang violence when you're living on the frontline of the Hellmouth."

She rested her hand on the bed and Spike reached out to cover it with his own, but pulled back at the last minute.

"I think....no more dates for me. Too much anxiety."

They sat quietly side by side listening to the music mingled with thumping and wild shouts of laughter from upstairs.

"Those girls are more destructive than demons. My mom's house will never be the same."

Spike chuckled. "They do go at it."

"Was I ever that young and carefree?"

"Probably not. I bet you've always been uptight. You were probably the little girl with a spotless white pinafore and perfect braids."

Buffy opened one eye and raised a brow. "Pinafore?!"

"Metaphorically speaking. I'm not saying you're a control freak, but....oh, wait, yes I am."

She gave his arm a casual slap.

"You've always got too much to handle, but part of that's 'cause you're always trying to control things beyond your control."

"That's my job. I'm the Slayer!"

"No. Even if you'd never been, I think you'd still be the type to try and keep things clean and tidy and organized and to fix things it's not your business to fix. You're a worrier."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not. And I'm not discussing my character flaws with you!"

Spike laughed. "Well no wonder you can't carry on a conversation. You quit the moment you hear something you don't like!"

Buffy shifted against the wall, eyes closed again, and mumbled, "Do not." to herself.

Unobserved, Spike could enjoy gazing at her shining hair, long lashes, delicious lips and petulant frown. God, what a wonderful bitch she was and how he adored her!

After another long pause, Buffy's eyes suddenly opened and she sat up straight. "Hey, Spike, I can't sit still. Wanna go kill something?"

"Sure. All right. You get changed. I'll get some weapons." Spike stood and reached out a hand to help her to her feet.

Buffy took his hand and fought back the familiar tingle that raced through her from the point of contact. Letting go quickly, she tugged her dress back in place and smoothed out the wrinkles then headed for the stairs.

She was halfway up when he called out softly. "Buffy?"

Turning, she looked down to where he stood at the foot of the stairs.

"In case I didn't mention it earlier.....you are beautiful."

Their gazes locked for just a heartbeat, and Buffy could read volumes more in his eyes. Sonnets. Couplets. Haikus. Limericks of meaning were there. She smiled, almost shyly.

"Thank you," she replied quietly, then turned and sped upstairs to get ready for her date.



End