Another Night
by BonnieD
(Spoilers through early Season 7)
(Remember this series branched off from canon awhile ago, so in my world Principal Wood is not a Slayer's son, just a guy, and Willow, never-ever- ever kissed Kennedy and had a meltdown, cause she's not ready for a new relationship yet and if she was it wouldn't be with that chick!)
The bartender poured another round of shots for the rowdy group at the corner table. Their waitress picked up the laden tray, rolling her eyes at the raucous burst of laughter from her customers.
"You better tell these apes it's last call, 'cause they're not listenin' to me. You may have to physically pitch'em out at closing, which is in about....." she consulted her watch, "10 minutes. I am not stayin' late. I know these assholes are gonna stiff me, anyway."
"I'll take care of it," he assured her, wiping the spills off the counter with a well-used rag.
The movement of the front door caught his eye, and he froze as a petite blond entered the room, scanning the last stragglers warily, then catching sight of him. She almost smiled and made her way over to the bar.
"What'll it be?" he asked, an amused smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. "Warm milk? Maybe some grape juice?"
She perched on a stool and pursed her lips in annoyance. "A beer. Whatever's on tap."
"Can I see some I.D.?" he demanded, arms folded across his chest. "Little girl like you shouldn't be out so late on a school night and especially not bar-hopping."
"Very funny. Shut up and beer me, Spike." She rotated her stool away from him, and regarded the rest of the customers. "Aren't you supposed to close at 2:00?"
He put a frothy mug down in front of her. "Yeah, but it takes awhile to clear'em out sometimes."
"Oh."
"Why? You need help with something?"
"I just thought, maybe we could get in a little late night patrol...you know, on your way home. It's been awhile since we did a sweep through Shadyrest."
"Right. That'd be good. I could use a workout after being holed up in here all night." He began rinsing glasses.
"Customer service jobs, the foundation of the American economy," Buffy mused, trying to find a difference between serving booze, burgers or a listening ear to high school students.
"Good tips, anyway. Thursday's Ladies' Night," Spike explained.
"Is that so? Bet you had'em lined up three deep at the bar," she teased.
He looked up at her from under half-lidded eyes and let that slight smirk blossom into a full-fledged saucy leer. It was damn good to see a glimpse of the old Spike with his endearingly annoying ways, Buffy thought. She had missed him.
It was two weeks since the night she had crept down to see him - face it, to lay with him - in the dead of night. It had not been repeated and neither of them mentioned it again. Still, it hung in the air between them and couldn't be dismissed only temporarily ignored. So the incident was shelved. Meanwhile, the game with the First also seemed to be on hold. The lack of activity was ominous, making everybody twitchy, and the atmosphere in the Slayer Hotel tense.
Spike suddenly straightened and bellowed, "All right then, closing time. Everybody drink up and get out."
"Great people skills there, Spike."
The guys at the corner table grumbled that it was still five to two and they, by-god, weren't going anywhere. The bartender stalked over and stared them down, and it looked like a fight was imminent.
"I said it's time to pack it in and shove off...." his voice dropped to a menacing purr and his short stature seemed to swell to an imposing height. "...mate." He addressed the burly leader of the group, who rose shakily to his feet.
Swaying slightly, the man considered his opponent's piercing blue stare, glanced at his wasted buddies who didn't look like they could totter home let alone hold their own in a bar fight, then shrugged.
"Fine. Whatever, man. Just don't expect to see us in here again. Come on, guys."
They all began shuffling out, still grumbling.
"Tip," Spike barked.
"'Scuse me?" slurred the leader, gaping at him blearily.
"The lady's tip," he demanded, taking a step closer.
"Fuck you," exclaimed one of the inebriated cronies. In an instant he found his face smashed into one of the tabletops and his arm drawn painfully halfway up his back. "Ow! Fuck! Damn!" he howled, as Spike twisted.
"Jesus," one of the others breathed, instantly sober. He hadn't even seen the bartender move. Collectively, they all began rummaging in their wallets and extracting bills. The waitress, Tonya, moved smoothly among them, calmly plucking cash from their hands. The men silently filed out, while Tonya contentedly counted her tips, and Spike began wiping down tables. Watching the scene play out, part of Buffy clamored that this little piece of extortion was ethically wrong, but the Doublemeat Palace employee in her, who had had to suffer the rudeness of dozens of customers, applauded him.
Minutes later, the lights were shut off and Spike was locking up behind them as they walked into a cool, star-filled Sunnydale night.
"See you tomorrow," Tonya called, "and thanks for the tip."
"I'm not on again 'til Saturday," Spike responded. "Take care walking home," he added.
"Maybe we should follow her," Buffy said, watching the slight figure in the molting rabbit-fur coat make her way down the street.
Spike nodded, and the pair shadowed his co-worker to her apartment three blocks away. After watching her walk up the steps and enter the building, they continued on down the street.
"Seems like a nice girl," Buffy remarked.
"She's okay," he answered.
"You like your job?"
"It's all right. Brings home the blood, anyway."
Buffy smiled, thinking of the wad of cash she had just 'happened' to find in an envelope on her bureau about a week after Spike had begun his new job. It was enough to pay the phone bill and part of the cable for that month.
She glanced over at her companion, who had his hands jammed in his pockets and was humming softly and somewhat nervously, as they walked along.
The low brick wall of Shadyrest Cemetery was on their left as they entered the next block. Instead of going all the way around to the front gate, the pair scaled the wall and dropped down onto the soft grass inside.
"Damn!" Buffy jumped to her feet and began brushing at the knees of her slacks. "There's going to be grass stains."
Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes. He'd heard her complain about damage to her clothes since the first time they'd ever patrolled together, back when he still hated her guts and had to be paid to help. "Luv, I've told you before....basic black. There's a reason it's a classic. Hides all manner of blood and guts AND grass stains."
"And if I wanted to be a goth princess or a ninja, that's what I'd wear. There's no reason a girl can't be a Slayer and have fashion sense!"
They walked along, side by side, scanning the empty graveyard for any signs of life or unlife, but all they saw were the moonlit slabs of granite and a stray cat ghosting along after its prey.
"Hm. Nothing," Buffy said after awhile. "Should've gone through Sunnydale Memorial again, it's always hopping." She made her way to a low, stone bench, shrugged the bag off her shoulder and began to rummage through it. Spike leaned against a monument topped by a stone angel and watched. After a minute she produced a thermos, a pair of plastic Looney Tune cups from MacDonald's, and a bag of.....Combos? She proceeded to pour an unidentified red liquid, which definitely wasn't blood, into the two cups.
Spike continued to watch in disbelief as she set up the impromptu picnic.
"Slayer, is this.....is this a date?"
Buffy glanced up. "No! No. Of course not. It's...........Do you want it to be?" She grinned mischievously as she reflected his own words from so long ago back at him.
Spike opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was beyond words, so he settled for a huge, hearty laugh.
******* Willow sat on the front porch swing of Chez Summers and listened to the rustle of the breeze blowing through the huge tree in the front yard. She smelled the hint of rain on the air that told her a storm was coming. She tuned in to all the small sounds, both natural and manmade of the neighborhood around her and the rest of Sunnydale beyond that, and the earth connecting it all together. She began to enter a meditative state as she had been taught by the coven in England, and for the first time all day, felt a modicum of peace.
This was the kind of magic that Tara was all about. Willow hadn't understood the attraction of such simple techniques and non-flashy results at the time, but now she understood the incredible power - GOOD power - of Wiccan magic.
The front door banged shut behind Dawn, breaking her trance.
"Hey. Thought I'd find you out here." Dawn dropped down beside her and set the swing moving with the heels of her feet. "I had to get out of there for awhile. That Colleen is so bossy! She seems to think I'm the guest in HER house! And it's not just me, she's trying to be cruise director for everybody." She looked at Willow. "How much longer? I wish the First would just start whatever it's going to do already. 'Cause I can't take it much more."
"I hear you." Willow thought of that girl, Kennedy, who was constantly coming on to her. She'd been making eyes and comments since Day One and Willow was just about sick of it. How could she make it any more obvious that she wasn't interested. Not now. Not ever.
"Is it really wicked of me to almost hope that if there are any more Potentials out there, the Bringers find them before the coven does?" Dawn's eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I just said that! That's not funny."
"Don't worry. You're not the only one who's tense and irritable. The whole house is about to burst at the seams."
"You know what we need?" Dawn said. "Or, actually, who. We need Tara. She was so great with people, you know." She darted a glance at Willow to gauge her reaction. The redhead froze for a moment, gazing out across the lawn, then slowly smiled.
"I-I think...." Dawn continued, nervously. "I mean, no one ever talks about her, and she was so great, and I miss her so much, and everyone else thinks it'll upset you too much or something, but I think there's stuff that needs to be said!"
Willow looked straight into Dawn's earnest face.
"Ever since you came back from England, it's been one crisis after another. We've been too busy to just talk. I don't know. Maybe you and Buffy have chats I know nothing about, but...as far as I can see it's been the usual Scoobie drill - fight evil, make quips and don't dig too deep into what anyone is really thinking."
"We do have some communication issues," the witch agreed. "So, what do you want to say, Dawn? Talk to me." She patted the girl's hand. Dawn took a deep breath and carried on.
"Well...I've wanted to tell you, for a long time, that I not only forgive you - for trying to kill me and all - but I get it." She looked deeply into Willow's eyes. "I don't think anyone ever told you, 'cause they were all trying to act like it never happened, but I was the one who found Tara after you left that day." Dawn closed her eyes a moment, remembering. "All of you were at the hospital when I came home and then....and then I found her. I was terrified. I was furious. I could see right away there was no use calling for help. It was too late. And I didn't want to leave her alone, not even for a minute. So I just sat there and waited for someone to come. It was like mom all over again, only this time it was me, not Buffy, who found her.
I remember, her hair had fallen in her eyes and they were wide open, staring at me. I wanted to brush the hair away. But, even though it was Tara, I was afraid to touch her." Dawn's voice began to crumble and Willow held the girl's hand between both of her own. "Is it bad that I was afraid to touch her?"
"No. No, Dawnie. It's all right. It's all right," Willow soothed, stroking her gently.
"I was so scared," Dawn whispered. "And later, after I found out what had happened, so angry." Her voice became like steel. "I would've done it."
She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Willow again. "I was glad you did it....to him. Buffy said, 'No, you don't mean that' but I did. I did. If I'd had that kind of power, I would've been happy to flay him myself."
Willow's mouth opened in protest, but Dawn pulled her hand away and held it up in a warding gesture.
"No! No more telling me what I felt and what I meant. Just listen."
The young woman nodded.
"Tara was like a mother to me all last year. She spent time with me and listened to me when Buffy didn't.....or couldn't. I think you should know, you're not the only one who loves her and misses her. And even when you came after me and I was scared to death and mad as hell, I still understood. Some part of me always understood. So....." Dawn let out a long shaky breath. "Well, this got a lot deeper than I expected. I just came out to say 'hello', but anyway, here's the point. Black magic rampage? Forgiven and understood."
"Oh, Dawn." Willow burst into tears and hugged the gangly teen to her. She sobbed for the sweetness of this girl who could forgive her after she'd threatened her life. She sobbed for Warren and Rack, whose lives she'd stolen, even if they were both rotten bastards. But mostly she sobbed for herself, missing Tara every moment of every day and not feeling the pain diminishing at all. For Tara herself she knew she didn't need to cry, because her beloved was now a part of the earth and the sky and all of nature - just as she had always been but on a more intrinsic level.
*******
Buffy poured another cupful of the very cheap, very sweet wine from her thermos, which was doing an admirable job of keeping it cold. She regarded the deep red liquid and swirled it around once before taking a long swig. She smacked her lips in approval.
"Ah! Better than beer," she critiqued. "Sweet."
"Yeah." Spike eyed his almost full, first cup, doubtfully. "It has a delightful, rather piquant bouquet. Chateau Boone's Farm?" He took a tiny sip, grimaced, and poured the thing out in the grass when Buffy wasn't looking.
Ripping open the brightly colored bag, she held it out to him. "Combo?" she asked.
He took a couple and tossed them back with a satisfying crunch. What he wouldn't give for a nice blood chaser about now to wash the crumbs down.
Buffy was obviously feeling the effects of one beer mixed with two glasses of cheap wine, because she was starting to throw the salty snacks up in the air and try to catch them in her mouth.
"Try it," she mumbled through a mouthful. "It's fun."
Since his reputation as Big Bad was long past and his ego totally shattered and stomped flat by that damn soul, Spike figured, what the hell, and was soon flipping and catching Combos.
"Whoops!" Buffy laughed as she missed a catch and one of the pretzel snacks fell down the front of her shirt. She fished around in her bra for it, while Spike paused his game to watch with interest. She looked up to catch him staring and in an instant the mood of the evening changed from sunny to stormy.
Buffy froze with the Combo halfway to her mouth and swallowed hard. The alcoholic fuzz cleared from her brain but burned in her crotch. She felt a slow fire build there and spread throughout her whole body, leaving it tingling with desire. Spike stood up from the bench so suddenly that he tripped over his own foot and staggered for a second, getting his balance.
"Maybe we should...." he gestured vaguely toward home.
"What's your hurry?" Buffy asked, a seductive edge creeping into her voice.
"Are you drunk?" He frowned. "I think you're drunk." 'And you're scaring the hell out of me' his brain added.
"Just a little," she answered honestly. "But not TOO drunk. I know what I'm doing. I know what I want." She rose from the bench.
"This is a spell," Spike decided.
"Nuh-uh." Buffy shook her head and moved a step closer, and Spike truly understood how his victims had felt when he stalked them. "Just thinking about the other night and how it was nice and I want more."
She gazed up at him, searching his eyes, then stopped, suddenly embarrassed by the words that had escaped from her brain to her mouth. "I....well, maybe I am more than a little drunk," she faltered, dropping her eyes.
Spike reached out a tentative hand and touched the side of her face with just his fingertips, then let his palm rest there his thumb stroking toward her mouth. Her lips parted softly, as he traced their contour, and her breathing grew erratic. Eyes wide, she turned her face up and stretched her body yearningly toward him. He couldn't turn down the invitation and leaned in to accept his kiss.
It was a world away from the aggressively consuming kisses they had shared for that brief time over a year before. Buffy wasn't angry and punishing. Spike wasn't starved and needy. Well, all right, perhaps he was, he thought, but still the flavor of this kiss was entirely different - light and delicate, almost chaste.
Getting less chaste by the second now as they moved from brushing of lips to darting of tongues and their hands began to roam. He cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other slipped around her waist and lightly kneaded her lower back. She rested one palm against his chest and allowed the other to creep down his hip and around to cup his butt, pulling him more firmly against her. Little vixen!
Spike felt his demon come howling to just below the surface, railing at him to suck her dry. He wanted her in every way imaginable; emotional, romantic, sexual and predatory. And, whoah, what happened to that chaste kiss? Their tongues were dueling, then he was kissing his way down to her neck, and she was wrapping her legs around him as he lifted her up, and he had a handful of her hair wrapped around his fist, and her nails were digging into his arm, and the hand at his chest was ripping at his shirt to get inside, and....
Spike set her down - practically flung her off, and backed hurriedly away. Buffy was panting and wide-eyed. She wiped the back of a hand across her glistening lips. He threw his head back and looked up to the sky, taking a long, cleansing breath. Walking to the monument, he turned his back to her and leaned against it while he regained composure.
"Sorry," he whispered, head bowed.
"No. It wasn't you," Buffy assured him, coming up behind him and lightly touching his arm. "I want you, too. I think we've pretty much established that."
He sidestepped her touch and went to the bench where he began haphazardly stuffing things back into her bag.
"We'd better go," he muttered, still refusing to meet her eyes.
Buffy was completely sober now, and alarmed at the change in Spike's demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had once been nearly raped and should be panicking at his touch? How had their roles somehow reversed?
"It's all right, Spike," she tried again. "We can take it slower...."
"No. I don't think we can," he answered. "That's our trouble." He smiled slightly. "Was a nice try though. Thanks for the picnic." He shouldered the bag and strode off through the cemetery. Buffy had no choice but to trail behind, wondering how she could fix things and why the burden was on her to make it better.
"Hey!" she called. "Wait up." She jogged up beside him and they walked along together in silence again.
"You know," she began. "It's okay to get a little passionate. We're two grown people and....."
"WE are not people. You're a person and I'm a - a thing, remember? This," he made an inclusive gesture between them, "can not start up again. I should've sent you away, when you came to me the other night. It's not healthy. It's not right. I can help you fight things and protect the girls, but that's all I can do for you."
Buffy nodded slowly. "Okay. No touchy. I got it. You're probably right."
"I know I'm right," he replied.
"When did you get to be so sensible?" she sulked, kicking at the grass.
"Side effect of the soul I reckon."
"Well, it sucks."
They walked on toward the front gate of the graveyard. When they reached it, Spike paused with one hand on the ornate wrought iron and turned to face the Slayer.
"Look, Buffy. You know I want you more than anything in the world, right? It's not easy for me to turn you down."
"I know," she agreed quietly.
"But I can't be with you just for some sexual workout. It means too much to me and not enough to you and we'll end up tearing at each other again when we need to work together. We're facing the oldest form of Evil in the world. There's no time to indulge in our pathetic excuse for a love life."
Buffy frowned. "You sound like Giles! And, of course, you're right." She sighed as he held the gate open for her and the both passed through. "Why can't I have something that's just for me? Just for one minute do something I feel like without thinking about all the repercussions."
"Chosen One," Spike said simply.
As they drew closer to the Summers' house, Buffy stopped on the sidewalk and touched his arm again. He looked down at her, head tilted questioningly.
"Maybe someday, Spike," she said. "When this latest test is past, assuming we survive it, and we're between apocalyptic threats. Maybe then.....we can take out this whatever-it-is between us and have a good look at it?"
He gave her a single nod and a smile so sweet it took her breath away. "That'd be good."
She smiled back and led the way up the walk to the front porch of her home, where Willow and Dawn greeted them from the swing. After 3:00 on a school night and Dawn was still up? Buffy didn't even bother to protest. The house was in such an uproar at all hours it was amazing anyone slept at all, and, despite the home pressures, her brain of a sister managed to keep a straight A/B average.
The Slayer curled up in a wicker chair facing her sister and best friend. Spike perched on the porch railing and pulled out a cigarette that she knew he'd never light. The four sat companionably in silence and listened to the sounds of the night.
END
(Remember this series branched off from canon awhile ago, so in my world Principal Wood is not a Slayer's son, just a guy, and Willow, never-ever- ever kissed Kennedy and had a meltdown, cause she's not ready for a new relationship yet and if she was it wouldn't be with that chick!)
The bartender poured another round of shots for the rowdy group at the corner table. Their waitress picked up the laden tray, rolling her eyes at the raucous burst of laughter from her customers.
"You better tell these apes it's last call, 'cause they're not listenin' to me. You may have to physically pitch'em out at closing, which is in about....." she consulted her watch, "10 minutes. I am not stayin' late. I know these assholes are gonna stiff me, anyway."
"I'll take care of it," he assured her, wiping the spills off the counter with a well-used rag.
The movement of the front door caught his eye, and he froze as a petite blond entered the room, scanning the last stragglers warily, then catching sight of him. She almost smiled and made her way over to the bar.
"What'll it be?" he asked, an amused smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. "Warm milk? Maybe some grape juice?"
She perched on a stool and pursed her lips in annoyance. "A beer. Whatever's on tap."
"Can I see some I.D.?" he demanded, arms folded across his chest. "Little girl like you shouldn't be out so late on a school night and especially not bar-hopping."
"Very funny. Shut up and beer me, Spike." She rotated her stool away from him, and regarded the rest of the customers. "Aren't you supposed to close at 2:00?"
He put a frothy mug down in front of her. "Yeah, but it takes awhile to clear'em out sometimes."
"Oh."
"Why? You need help with something?"
"I just thought, maybe we could get in a little late night patrol...you know, on your way home. It's been awhile since we did a sweep through Shadyrest."
"Right. That'd be good. I could use a workout after being holed up in here all night." He began rinsing glasses.
"Customer service jobs, the foundation of the American economy," Buffy mused, trying to find a difference between serving booze, burgers or a listening ear to high school students.
"Good tips, anyway. Thursday's Ladies' Night," Spike explained.
"Is that so? Bet you had'em lined up three deep at the bar," she teased.
He looked up at her from under half-lidded eyes and let that slight smirk blossom into a full-fledged saucy leer. It was damn good to see a glimpse of the old Spike with his endearingly annoying ways, Buffy thought. She had missed him.
It was two weeks since the night she had crept down to see him - face it, to lay with him - in the dead of night. It had not been repeated and neither of them mentioned it again. Still, it hung in the air between them and couldn't be dismissed only temporarily ignored. So the incident was shelved. Meanwhile, the game with the First also seemed to be on hold. The lack of activity was ominous, making everybody twitchy, and the atmosphere in the Slayer Hotel tense.
Spike suddenly straightened and bellowed, "All right then, closing time. Everybody drink up and get out."
"Great people skills there, Spike."
The guys at the corner table grumbled that it was still five to two and they, by-god, weren't going anywhere. The bartender stalked over and stared them down, and it looked like a fight was imminent.
"I said it's time to pack it in and shove off...." his voice dropped to a menacing purr and his short stature seemed to swell to an imposing height. "...mate." He addressed the burly leader of the group, who rose shakily to his feet.
Swaying slightly, the man considered his opponent's piercing blue stare, glanced at his wasted buddies who didn't look like they could totter home let alone hold their own in a bar fight, then shrugged.
"Fine. Whatever, man. Just don't expect to see us in here again. Come on, guys."
They all began shuffling out, still grumbling.
"Tip," Spike barked.
"'Scuse me?" slurred the leader, gaping at him blearily.
"The lady's tip," he demanded, taking a step closer.
"Fuck you," exclaimed one of the inebriated cronies. In an instant he found his face smashed into one of the tabletops and his arm drawn painfully halfway up his back. "Ow! Fuck! Damn!" he howled, as Spike twisted.
"Jesus," one of the others breathed, instantly sober. He hadn't even seen the bartender move. Collectively, they all began rummaging in their wallets and extracting bills. The waitress, Tonya, moved smoothly among them, calmly plucking cash from their hands. The men silently filed out, while Tonya contentedly counted her tips, and Spike began wiping down tables. Watching the scene play out, part of Buffy clamored that this little piece of extortion was ethically wrong, but the Doublemeat Palace employee in her, who had had to suffer the rudeness of dozens of customers, applauded him.
Minutes later, the lights were shut off and Spike was locking up behind them as they walked into a cool, star-filled Sunnydale night.
"See you tomorrow," Tonya called, "and thanks for the tip."
"I'm not on again 'til Saturday," Spike responded. "Take care walking home," he added.
"Maybe we should follow her," Buffy said, watching the slight figure in the molting rabbit-fur coat make her way down the street.
Spike nodded, and the pair shadowed his co-worker to her apartment three blocks away. After watching her walk up the steps and enter the building, they continued on down the street.
"Seems like a nice girl," Buffy remarked.
"She's okay," he answered.
"You like your job?"
"It's all right. Brings home the blood, anyway."
Buffy smiled, thinking of the wad of cash she had just 'happened' to find in an envelope on her bureau about a week after Spike had begun his new job. It was enough to pay the phone bill and part of the cable for that month.
She glanced over at her companion, who had his hands jammed in his pockets and was humming softly and somewhat nervously, as they walked along.
The low brick wall of Shadyrest Cemetery was on their left as they entered the next block. Instead of going all the way around to the front gate, the pair scaled the wall and dropped down onto the soft grass inside.
"Damn!" Buffy jumped to her feet and began brushing at the knees of her slacks. "There's going to be grass stains."
Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes. He'd heard her complain about damage to her clothes since the first time they'd ever patrolled together, back when he still hated her guts and had to be paid to help. "Luv, I've told you before....basic black. There's a reason it's a classic. Hides all manner of blood and guts AND grass stains."
"And if I wanted to be a goth princess or a ninja, that's what I'd wear. There's no reason a girl can't be a Slayer and have fashion sense!"
They walked along, side by side, scanning the empty graveyard for any signs of life or unlife, but all they saw were the moonlit slabs of granite and a stray cat ghosting along after its prey.
"Hm. Nothing," Buffy said after awhile. "Should've gone through Sunnydale Memorial again, it's always hopping." She made her way to a low, stone bench, shrugged the bag off her shoulder and began to rummage through it. Spike leaned against a monument topped by a stone angel and watched. After a minute she produced a thermos, a pair of plastic Looney Tune cups from MacDonald's, and a bag of.....Combos? She proceeded to pour an unidentified red liquid, which definitely wasn't blood, into the two cups.
Spike continued to watch in disbelief as she set up the impromptu picnic.
"Slayer, is this.....is this a date?"
Buffy glanced up. "No! No. Of course not. It's...........Do you want it to be?" She grinned mischievously as she reflected his own words from so long ago back at him.
Spike opened his mouth and nothing came out. He was beyond words, so he settled for a huge, hearty laugh.
******* Willow sat on the front porch swing of Chez Summers and listened to the rustle of the breeze blowing through the huge tree in the front yard. She smelled the hint of rain on the air that told her a storm was coming. She tuned in to all the small sounds, both natural and manmade of the neighborhood around her and the rest of Sunnydale beyond that, and the earth connecting it all together. She began to enter a meditative state as she had been taught by the coven in England, and for the first time all day, felt a modicum of peace.
This was the kind of magic that Tara was all about. Willow hadn't understood the attraction of such simple techniques and non-flashy results at the time, but now she understood the incredible power - GOOD power - of Wiccan magic.
The front door banged shut behind Dawn, breaking her trance.
"Hey. Thought I'd find you out here." Dawn dropped down beside her and set the swing moving with the heels of her feet. "I had to get out of there for awhile. That Colleen is so bossy! She seems to think I'm the guest in HER house! And it's not just me, she's trying to be cruise director for everybody." She looked at Willow. "How much longer? I wish the First would just start whatever it's going to do already. 'Cause I can't take it much more."
"I hear you." Willow thought of that girl, Kennedy, who was constantly coming on to her. She'd been making eyes and comments since Day One and Willow was just about sick of it. How could she make it any more obvious that she wasn't interested. Not now. Not ever.
"Is it really wicked of me to almost hope that if there are any more Potentials out there, the Bringers find them before the coven does?" Dawn's eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I just said that! That's not funny."
"Don't worry. You're not the only one who's tense and irritable. The whole house is about to burst at the seams."
"You know what we need?" Dawn said. "Or, actually, who. We need Tara. She was so great with people, you know." She darted a glance at Willow to gauge her reaction. The redhead froze for a moment, gazing out across the lawn, then slowly smiled.
"I-I think...." Dawn continued, nervously. "I mean, no one ever talks about her, and she was so great, and I miss her so much, and everyone else thinks it'll upset you too much or something, but I think there's stuff that needs to be said!"
Willow looked straight into Dawn's earnest face.
"Ever since you came back from England, it's been one crisis after another. We've been too busy to just talk. I don't know. Maybe you and Buffy have chats I know nothing about, but...as far as I can see it's been the usual Scoobie drill - fight evil, make quips and don't dig too deep into what anyone is really thinking."
"We do have some communication issues," the witch agreed. "So, what do you want to say, Dawn? Talk to me." She patted the girl's hand. Dawn took a deep breath and carried on.
"Well...I've wanted to tell you, for a long time, that I not only forgive you - for trying to kill me and all - but I get it." She looked deeply into Willow's eyes. "I don't think anyone ever told you, 'cause they were all trying to act like it never happened, but I was the one who found Tara after you left that day." Dawn closed her eyes a moment, remembering. "All of you were at the hospital when I came home and then....and then I found her. I was terrified. I was furious. I could see right away there was no use calling for help. It was too late. And I didn't want to leave her alone, not even for a minute. So I just sat there and waited for someone to come. It was like mom all over again, only this time it was me, not Buffy, who found her.
I remember, her hair had fallen in her eyes and they were wide open, staring at me. I wanted to brush the hair away. But, even though it was Tara, I was afraid to touch her." Dawn's voice began to crumble and Willow held the girl's hand between both of her own. "Is it bad that I was afraid to touch her?"
"No. No, Dawnie. It's all right. It's all right," Willow soothed, stroking her gently.
"I was so scared," Dawn whispered. "And later, after I found out what had happened, so angry." Her voice became like steel. "I would've done it."
She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on Willow again. "I was glad you did it....to him. Buffy said, 'No, you don't mean that' but I did. I did. If I'd had that kind of power, I would've been happy to flay him myself."
Willow's mouth opened in protest, but Dawn pulled her hand away and held it up in a warding gesture.
"No! No more telling me what I felt and what I meant. Just listen."
The young woman nodded.
"Tara was like a mother to me all last year. She spent time with me and listened to me when Buffy didn't.....or couldn't. I think you should know, you're not the only one who loves her and misses her. And even when you came after me and I was scared to death and mad as hell, I still understood. Some part of me always understood. So....." Dawn let out a long shaky breath. "Well, this got a lot deeper than I expected. I just came out to say 'hello', but anyway, here's the point. Black magic rampage? Forgiven and understood."
"Oh, Dawn." Willow burst into tears and hugged the gangly teen to her. She sobbed for the sweetness of this girl who could forgive her after she'd threatened her life. She sobbed for Warren and Rack, whose lives she'd stolen, even if they were both rotten bastards. But mostly she sobbed for herself, missing Tara every moment of every day and not feeling the pain diminishing at all. For Tara herself she knew she didn't need to cry, because her beloved was now a part of the earth and the sky and all of nature - just as she had always been but on a more intrinsic level.
*******
Buffy poured another cupful of the very cheap, very sweet wine from her thermos, which was doing an admirable job of keeping it cold. She regarded the deep red liquid and swirled it around once before taking a long swig. She smacked her lips in approval.
"Ah! Better than beer," she critiqued. "Sweet."
"Yeah." Spike eyed his almost full, first cup, doubtfully. "It has a delightful, rather piquant bouquet. Chateau Boone's Farm?" He took a tiny sip, grimaced, and poured the thing out in the grass when Buffy wasn't looking.
Ripping open the brightly colored bag, she held it out to him. "Combo?" she asked.
He took a couple and tossed them back with a satisfying crunch. What he wouldn't give for a nice blood chaser about now to wash the crumbs down.
Buffy was obviously feeling the effects of one beer mixed with two glasses of cheap wine, because she was starting to throw the salty snacks up in the air and try to catch them in her mouth.
"Try it," she mumbled through a mouthful. "It's fun."
Since his reputation as Big Bad was long past and his ego totally shattered and stomped flat by that damn soul, Spike figured, what the hell, and was soon flipping and catching Combos.
"Whoops!" Buffy laughed as she missed a catch and one of the pretzel snacks fell down the front of her shirt. She fished around in her bra for it, while Spike paused his game to watch with interest. She looked up to catch him staring and in an instant the mood of the evening changed from sunny to stormy.
Buffy froze with the Combo halfway to her mouth and swallowed hard. The alcoholic fuzz cleared from her brain but burned in her crotch. She felt a slow fire build there and spread throughout her whole body, leaving it tingling with desire. Spike stood up from the bench so suddenly that he tripped over his own foot and staggered for a second, getting his balance.
"Maybe we should...." he gestured vaguely toward home.
"What's your hurry?" Buffy asked, a seductive edge creeping into her voice.
"Are you drunk?" He frowned. "I think you're drunk." 'And you're scaring the hell out of me' his brain added.
"Just a little," she answered honestly. "But not TOO drunk. I know what I'm doing. I know what I want." She rose from the bench.
"This is a spell," Spike decided.
"Nuh-uh." Buffy shook her head and moved a step closer, and Spike truly understood how his victims had felt when he stalked them. "Just thinking about the other night and how it was nice and I want more."
She gazed up at him, searching his eyes, then stopped, suddenly embarrassed by the words that had escaped from her brain to her mouth. "I....well, maybe I am more than a little drunk," she faltered, dropping her eyes.
Spike reached out a tentative hand and touched the side of her face with just his fingertips, then let his palm rest there his thumb stroking toward her mouth. Her lips parted softly, as he traced their contour, and her breathing grew erratic. Eyes wide, she turned her face up and stretched her body yearningly toward him. He couldn't turn down the invitation and leaned in to accept his kiss.
It was a world away from the aggressively consuming kisses they had shared for that brief time over a year before. Buffy wasn't angry and punishing. Spike wasn't starved and needy. Well, all right, perhaps he was, he thought, but still the flavor of this kiss was entirely different - light and delicate, almost chaste.
Getting less chaste by the second now as they moved from brushing of lips to darting of tongues and their hands began to roam. He cradled the back of her head with one hand while the other slipped around her waist and lightly kneaded her lower back. She rested one palm against his chest and allowed the other to creep down his hip and around to cup his butt, pulling him more firmly against her. Little vixen!
Spike felt his demon come howling to just below the surface, railing at him to suck her dry. He wanted her in every way imaginable; emotional, romantic, sexual and predatory. And, whoah, what happened to that chaste kiss? Their tongues were dueling, then he was kissing his way down to her neck, and she was wrapping her legs around him as he lifted her up, and he had a handful of her hair wrapped around his fist, and her nails were digging into his arm, and the hand at his chest was ripping at his shirt to get inside, and....
Spike set her down - practically flung her off, and backed hurriedly away. Buffy was panting and wide-eyed. She wiped the back of a hand across her glistening lips. He threw his head back and looked up to the sky, taking a long, cleansing breath. Walking to the monument, he turned his back to her and leaned against it while he regained composure.
"Sorry," he whispered, head bowed.
"No. It wasn't you," Buffy assured him, coming up behind him and lightly touching his arm. "I want you, too. I think we've pretty much established that."
He sidestepped her touch and went to the bench where he began haphazardly stuffing things back into her bag.
"We'd better go," he muttered, still refusing to meet her eyes.
Buffy was completely sober now, and alarmed at the change in Spike's demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had once been nearly raped and should be panicking at his touch? How had their roles somehow reversed?
"It's all right, Spike," she tried again. "We can take it slower...."
"No. I don't think we can," he answered. "That's our trouble." He smiled slightly. "Was a nice try though. Thanks for the picnic." He shouldered the bag and strode off through the cemetery. Buffy had no choice but to trail behind, wondering how she could fix things and why the burden was on her to make it better.
"Hey!" she called. "Wait up." She jogged up beside him and they walked along together in silence again.
"You know," she began. "It's okay to get a little passionate. We're two grown people and....."
"WE are not people. You're a person and I'm a - a thing, remember? This," he made an inclusive gesture between them, "can not start up again. I should've sent you away, when you came to me the other night. It's not healthy. It's not right. I can help you fight things and protect the girls, but that's all I can do for you."
Buffy nodded slowly. "Okay. No touchy. I got it. You're probably right."
"I know I'm right," he replied.
"When did you get to be so sensible?" she sulked, kicking at the grass.
"Side effect of the soul I reckon."
"Well, it sucks."
They walked on toward the front gate of the graveyard. When they reached it, Spike paused with one hand on the ornate wrought iron and turned to face the Slayer.
"Look, Buffy. You know I want you more than anything in the world, right? It's not easy for me to turn you down."
"I know," she agreed quietly.
"But I can't be with you just for some sexual workout. It means too much to me and not enough to you and we'll end up tearing at each other again when we need to work together. We're facing the oldest form of Evil in the world. There's no time to indulge in our pathetic excuse for a love life."
Buffy frowned. "You sound like Giles! And, of course, you're right." She sighed as he held the gate open for her and the both passed through. "Why can't I have something that's just for me? Just for one minute do something I feel like without thinking about all the repercussions."
"Chosen One," Spike said simply.
As they drew closer to the Summers' house, Buffy stopped on the sidewalk and touched his arm again. He looked down at her, head tilted questioningly.
"Maybe someday, Spike," she said. "When this latest test is past, assuming we survive it, and we're between apocalyptic threats. Maybe then.....we can take out this whatever-it-is between us and have a good look at it?"
He gave her a single nod and a smile so sweet it took her breath away. "That'd be good."
She smiled back and led the way up the walk to the front porch of her home, where Willow and Dawn greeted them from the swing. After 3:00 on a school night and Dawn was still up? Buffy didn't even bother to protest. The house was in such an uproar at all hours it was amazing anyone slept at all, and, despite the home pressures, her brain of a sister managed to keep a straight A/B average.
The Slayer curled up in a wicker chair facing her sister and best friend. Spike perched on the porch railing and pulled out a cigarette that she knew he'd never light. The four sat companionably in silence and listened to the sounds of the night.
END
