FOOLS FOR LIFE

CHAPTER 3: LATE NIGHT TALKS

"Guys, I'm home" Buffy said as she walked in the door and crashed on the couch. No answer. Great, everyone gone to bed already? No one here to listen to her tale of victory? No one worried about her?

"That's what you get when your arch-nemesisses-ese-is, whatever, are a bunch of nerds." she mumbled to herself. Still, Warren had given her a run for her money, with his magically-induced strength. And she did owe Jonathon for the tip to smash his balls. She chuckled to herself and tried to list in how many ways you could make jokes about that one.

Ah well, things went well. All three members of the geek-squad were in custody. They'd almost escaped, with *rocket packs* no less. Lame? No thanks, got plenty already. Fortunately, Warren's had gotten damaged during their fight. The look on his face as he gave his exit line and expected to fly had been more than worth the bruises he managed to give her during the fight. Of course that other guy...what's his name, had topped that by flying straight into that overhanging roof. Jonathon didn't seem to have a rocket pack. And he seemed surprised the others did.

"Looks like they were dumping you, pal," she said to no one in particular. Dissention in the ranks, fits with him tipping her off to Warren's weakness. Maybe hope for the little gnome yet.

Under different circumstances, she might have felt more sorry for him, but after everything they put her through the past few months, after their little voyeur-trip on her, with cameras placed in every aspect of her life....

Cameras. Her face dropped and her hand tightened on the couch's armrest. Her mind had nowhere to go but to the moment she saw Spike on top of Anya. The first split second, before the rational brain took over, all she felt was...wrong. And not her this time. Him. And Anya. Wrong, together, on top of each other. What was he doing on top of HER, he wasn't supposed to do that! She knew what Anya was feeling, the smell of him, his touch, his lips, his hunger and strength. She had felt it a lot in the not so recent past, and in spite of all the lists of reasons why she would never again, and why it had never been a good idea in the first place, for anyone.....it had felt good. So good.

And after all her speeches to Spike about moving on with his life, forgetting about his feelings for her, her first impulse when she saw him with her, was to yell at the computer screen, "You're only supposed to want ME!"

God, what a hypocrite she was. He should move on, but only if that meant he would pine for her for all eternity. There's a good little boy. But then again after all his speeches and declarations of eternal devotion, he had managed to jump Anya's bones pretty quickly.

"Owww I'm so messed up." She yawned, stretched and got up to go to the kitchen. As she opened the fridge, she glanced at the kitchen counter from the corner of her eyes. She remembered him rubbing up to her there. She said 'no', and 'stop', as she did often. She didn't THINK 'no' or 'stop', which was about just as often. It was probably there that he felt his lighter in her pocket. And then later, when he pulled it out, showing her big attitude up for what it was....ouchie, not her proudest moment.

She sighed and poured herself a soda. Rationally she understood what had happened between him and Anya. They were both hurting, both rejected by their loves, both ex-evils, sort of, both trying to make their way around the Scooby circle, neither being the greatest fits for it, you could imagine.

And they had both been plastered, presumably on Giles' scotch. She knew that. They had both been reeking of booze. And she knew her own affair with Spike had been wrong, and breaking it off was the first right thing she had done in a while, but....

But he wasn't supposed to do that to Anya. Only to her. To touch her...and do those things...

"Buffy, hey, you're home!"

Willow's voice startled Buffy out of her stream of thoughts and as she turned she managed to pour a splash of soda over the counter.

"Oww! Darn! Willow, hi, yeah I'm home. That's me. All home. Homey Buffy!"

She cleared her throat and grabbed some paper towels, reminding herself there had been nothing to SEE of what she was thinking so intensely about.

She started to wipe the counter. "I uh, thought you guys had turned in."

She looked at Willow, who was wearing a big jammie shirt, no pants and only one sock. She ran her hand through her tussled hair and smiled sheepishly.

"Uh, no. I mean, yes. I mean Tara and I were doing some more research....and uhm...."

Buffy lifted one eyebrow and grinned. "About what, the touchy-feely needs of reconciled Wiccas??"

Willow blushed, looked at her toes and mumbled: "No, levitation actually..... But ANYway...." She grabbed the Sprite bottle and tried to pull a more dignified and serious face while she poured herself a glass ". ..how did it go with the geek-trio?"

Buffy smiled and tossed the paper towels in the trash. "Just peachy! Let's go into the living room and I'll tell you all about how I beat Warren by crushing his balls on the concrete."

Willow's eyes grew big and Buffy had to laugh out loud. She put her arm around her friend's shoulder as they left the kitchen. "Come on Will, and brace yourself. I got a million of them!"

** **

"I mean, it's just not fair! How can he do this to me?"

The girl in the Bronze had been bewailing her fate like that for quite a while now. And unfortunately for bystanders with short attention spans, there was little variety in her choice of words. After about the twelfth time the bartender had tried to kindly answer that very same question on the fairness of things, in the typically non-committal way that bartenders use all over the world, he had actually given up.

She was pretty, and never is there a better time for a bar-wise Don Juan to try and woo a girl than when she needs comforting and feels there's no one to do it. However, the thought of meaningless, no-strings-attached sex got less and less attractive as he listened to her repeat her lament over and over.

So he had helped the few other customers that were there in between her tirades and slowly managed to work himself out of here area altogether. Had she noticed it would have made her undoubtedly even more depressed, but she had been too caught up in herself for that.

Also there was the dark haired lady who had sat down next to her and taken over from the bartender as available shoulder and listening ear.

"I know dear, I know it isn't." she said. A lot.

"I mean he cut me off. He cancelled my credit cards! What am I going to do? Find a job? And do what? Wait tables? I can't work in a place like this, I can't!"

In the background you could hear the rather insulted bartender mumble: "And on behalf of all the places 'like this' a big thank-you goes to..."

The girl never heard it and just went on. "And all because I want to follow MY dream instead of his! It's my life isn't it?" Looking for confirmation she turned to the woman next to her.

"Of course it is, dear. And yours to live like you want to. He's just another control freak. I've seen it a million times: they're just trying to live their own failed dreams through their children."

The girl sipped her drink and her eyebrows went up as she heard these words. She swallowed quickly to voice her agreement. "Exactly! Exactly. Just because HE never went to medical school and became a doctor, doesn't mean I should! My dream matters!"

"Of course it does dear, and er....what is your dream exactly?"

The girl's eyes turned upward and went dreamy. "I'm going to be a ventriloquist!"

For the first time the dark haired woman's knowing smile disappeared. "Ah. Of course...."

"Yes, it's almost always men, but why couldn't a woman do it? Huh? I could have my own TV show...I can see it now." Then her face turned to a mask of tears again. "And I just asked him to finance it, and he wouldn't, just like the time when I wanted to start my own girl band, or-or publish my own magazine. He's just so cruel and uncaring!"

The woman had just started some intense rubbing of her temples but at those last words, her eyes brightened up,. "Ah yes, he is, and don't you wish that..."

"My own father!" The girl finished her last glass and started wailing again, interrupting yet another attempt to get the wish-making started.

Halfrek sighed and signaled the barkeep for another round. This was going to be a long one.

It was such an effort to keep her game up, she never noticed that from a dark corner of the club, two cold-blue, undead eyes had been watching her intently for a while now.

** **

TBC

R&R me ;-)