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Three: Dancing at the Bronze
By Annie
2003-03-12
****************************************************************************
Crossing her arms over her chest she merely gave him one of her most threatening gazes. He cocked an eyebrow and after a second or two she was the one to break eye contact. The annoyance a bubble inside of her ready to burst at any moment and she turned her head from him again.
Darn.
Spike crooked both corners of his mouth up into a knowing smirk. An idea had come to him that just might be too sweet to give up. Well, at least much too fun. He'd get to her, one way or another. If he couldn't do it by breaking her body into very little pieces, then he'd do it by reaching into her head and swirl around as much as he possibly could.
She had always been too easily provoked. Now all he really had to do was wait. Once an hour or two had passed she would be ripe for him to pluck off the wine, he was sure of it.
***
10:20 p.m.
Buffy leaned against the wall below the window through which she had been trying to see outside again; after trying to rip the boards down, that was. Soon enough, and on her own accord, she had realized the meaningless of the first venture and simply turned from it to rest back into the position she was currently still in. She refused to even acknowledge the fact that he was in the same room and they hadn't spoken since his remark when she tried to find her escape through that window.
She kept waiting for him to say something. She had never known him to be the one to shut up, and somehow his silence was getting to her in a different and almost stronger way than all his idiotic quips ever had. On the other hand, it wasn't that she WANTED him to speak. She liked the stillness much better. It was just that his quietness was pushing her own thoughts out of her head, making her focus on the fact that he hadn't said a word in over an hour. And so them not talking wasn't a benefit to his obsessive yammering, since she still couldn't seem to think of anything but his obsessive yammering.
Finally she pushed away from the wall and walked across the room to enter the smaller closet. Grabbing one of the mattresses she dragged it out through the doorway and threw it onto the hard cement floor of the basement, making the dust and grinded dirt fly up in a nervous cloud before it slowly calmed down again.
Spike blinked, staring at the object now decorating the empty space as the Slayer disappeared again. Soon she came out with a second mattress and threw it on top of the other. The cloud once more rising, only not as violently, and it seemed to pay less heed to the human's on-goings as it once more took its place on the floor.
Buffy clapped her hands together to get the filth off of them and then she said with a gesture to the primitive bed before them.
"There you go. Now you can't complain to me about the floor being too hard to sleep on," she said before she turned and walked back into the other room.
The wall slid shut behind her and Spike ground his teeth together in irritation.
Bloody hell, he needed to bug her, he needed to be close to her in order to do that. He had seen how affected she had been just by him sowing his mouth shut for a while, and now his presence couldn't disturb her even the slightest. This would NOT do... But what remedy could he find for it?
Sighing he walked up to the mattresses and threw himself on them. Sitting up again he eased his duster off his shoulders and then sprawled it over himself. Suddenly remembering something he threw the leather off of him and got to his feet. Walking up to the bookcase he squatted down and began to gather up some of the blankets on the lower shelf. Rising he smirked to himself as he turned and walked up to the door.
Tapping gently on it he said:
"Blankets?"
"Have them," she replied, tone short and he cursed his bad luck as he recalled there being blankets in there already.
"Well, these are vampire germ free blankets," he tried and there was a short pause before she asked:
"And you think sleeping directly on a vampire's mattress isn't attracting some 'vamp germs'? Besides, I'm comfortable. So go away."
He grumbled silently. Nothing else to do but face the truth of the situation - he was going to fail once again. The Scooby nerds were sure to come before dawn, and if they both went to sleep now - farewell twisting- her-head time!
Walking back up to his bed he threw the blankets aside to once again lay down upon the former. Reaching out he got a hold on his duster and for the second time covered himself with familiarity, and the assurance that came with it. No matter what, at least he knew who he was, and what he was. At least that was permanent. At least that would never change on him. At least himself he would never fail.
***
Day One
11.13 a.m.
"What time is it?!"
He woke with a jerk at her outburst and blinked with sleep-dazed eyes as he slowly sat up to look at her where she was standing in the doorway of the closet. He found himself staring at her ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt. She looked so human that something almost made him wince and for a moment he was transported back to the very first time he saw her - dancing at the Bronze. However, he quickly got a hold on himself.
"What?" he snapped and she walked passed him, up to one of the windows to stand on her toes, her fingertips splayed against the wall as she tried to look outside. "Didn't the fruitless attempts last night bloody teach you anything?" he grumbled, running a hand through his messed up bleached curls before throwing the duster off of him and rising to his feet.
"Sunlight," she said, twirling to face him.
"What? You gonna throw a handful of it in my face?" he asked and she scowled.
"No, you nitwit!" she exclaimed. "Outside! Sunlight!"
He narrowed his eyes, uncomprehendingly.
"This is a problem?" he wondered and she took a step closer, her posture suddenly warning.
"Don't even TRY to be funny," she hissed and he smiled a little.
"What then? Can I in some way ease your worried mind? If there is anything I can do, don't hesitate to tell me," he replied, the sarcasm in his voice not easy to miss and her eyes grew hard.
"Why haven't they come yet?! It must be more than morning, and that means we've been here all night!"
"There you go with the extraordinary deduction abilities - I cannot tell you how utterly bloody impressed they get me every SINGLE time," he stated and she almost walked up and hit him.
The need was great, but somehow she managed to keep it from taking over. He couldn't strike back. It wasn't fair.
"I'm merely saying..." she started.
"No, what you're doing is stating the sodding obvious," he interrupted, shaking his head and bending down to pick up his duster in search of a much needed nicotine dose. "If you ask me..." he began, straightening his back when her fist connected with his jaw and pushed him down again. "Bollocks!" he exclaimed as he felt the pack of smokes being crushed beneath his hand when he supported himself to keep from going all the way down on the floor.
Raising his head he glared up at her.
"What the bleeding hell's the matter with you?!" he growled, tearing his hand up and eyeing the damage with the defeat folding out in his chest like the petals of a flower. "Oh...bloody hell," he sighed, finding but one smokable fag and pulling it out to eye its crooked form.
Buffy fought back the giggle as she took a step backward, but she couldn't suppress the smile spreading wide on her lips. She cleared her throat when he turned his gaze into her merry one, and as his grew steely blue she tried to put on a serious expression, managing to diminish the smile at least by two thirds.
"Wow... looks pretty bad," she said, nodding to the cigarette still held up in his left hand. "But, you know, maybe it's a sign. That you should quit."
He merely watched her in tight silence and she cleared her throat again.
"If you say ''cause it's not healthy for you' I'm gonna thoroughly ignore the pain in my head and kill you. Slowly," he warned and she grew serious.
"I can't believe they're not here yet!" she then exclaimed, turning from him and throwing her arms up in the air as if to gesture her feeling.
She then crossed them over her chest as she shook her head a little, beginning to pace.
"At least now I don't have to get a head ache 'cause of your excessive drug use!" she added and he rose to his feet with anger growing in his chest. He was down to level zero on the patience department with her. "I don't understand this! They're not this slow. Willow would've gotten worried by now. Or Giles, if I didn't check in... And this place is totally creeping me out and YOU... don't even get me started. And..."
"Would you just shut up?!" he interrupted and she swirled around to face him.
"Know what?" she asked, taking the few steps parting them and shoving her index finger in his chest as she continued: "YOU did this. Somehow you planned this whole thing! You knew there was a spell on this house, you good-for-nothing, lying, scheming... VAMPIRE!"
He stared into her fuming gaze with one that bore a perfect reflection of her emotions, and then it suddenly turned dangerous as he leaned forward a little.
"Why would I?" he asked, voice lowered into what she could only interpret as seductive. The slowness of the words making them stroke her ears gently and she felt something swirl up her spine as her eyes got stuck in his. "To have you all to myself?" he wondered now, and as his fingers brushed over her stomach her eyes grew with agitated disbelief.
"You EVER touch me again," she said with as much menace as she could possibly produce into her voice, but he merely raised his eyebrows slightly - the mocking and questioning look he gave her made her clench her hands into tight fists.
"If you can't finish sentences," he adopted her phrasing from the night prior and she bit her jaws together in fury as he finished: "you really shouldn't start them."
Get away from him, a voice told her and she took a stiff step back. Get as far away from him as you can. Soon you'll be out of here. Don't listen to him. Not a single word he says, Buffy. Understand?
Yes. She understood.
Turning once more she walked away from him and up to the bookcase standing on the opposite side of the room. Beginning to look through one of the boxes of nails and tools and scraps of metal she made the sound of iron against iron root out all other thoughts.
He's not getting to me, she thought. There is no way anywhere that he'd ever get to me.
I'm starting to get to her, he thought, smiling to himself as he watched her back. It was easier than I thought. Though she seems pretty pissed... Hah! Perfect. Hopefully she'll run headfirst into a bleeding wall before this is over; have a concussion, slip into a coma and then I'll be there to hear the doctor say those seven magic words: "I'm so sorry, but we lost her."
The mere thought made him want to spin further on her obvious discomfort, but he restrained himself.
He had no idea why her chummies hadn't appeared yet with big, white and red "to the rescue" banderols and White Hats on their heads, and perhaps he had very little time to take this where he wanted it, but if he rushed it he was bound to screw it up somehow. Better let the chance get away than ruin it all for himself.
She was so small. Standing away from him she looked even smaller. It never seized to amaze him how such a petite form could harbor such strength. How it could perform the task of killing and healing, killing and healing over and over and still be intact. Quite intact, in fact.
As he found himself actually letting his gaze slide down her body appraisingly and then suddenly realizing that he appreciated what he was seeing his eyes grew and he tore them off her with a small and shocked grunt over himself.
What the hell was wrong with him? She did nothing for him. She never had and she never would. She was a thorn in his side, one that he wanted nothing but to pull out and preferably get to squash between two fingers. Any sort of attraction between them, or on his part, was completely absurd.
Still, his fingertips bore the feel of the small tremble which had run through her as they brushed against the thin fabric of her shirt. And his eyes remembered the flash of something new in her gaze as her head had tilted back slightly.
Shaking his own head he closed his eyes in pure disgust.
He wasn't even contemplating what he was thinking.
What he had just done, what he had just said and how he had phrased it, had been nothing but an attempt at pushing her in the direction he wanted her: being absolutely finished with him and losing her patience. Then she would be vulnerable.
So why... why did he feel like this?
Opening his eyes he glanced her way again, the angry scrambling of metal against metal consistent and he blinked.
No. Drusilla he had desired. Drusilla had been able to get him going in ways no other woman ever had, ever would. Buffy? That was too sick for even him to imagine. She was his nemesis, and he could never want her more for himself than how much he wanted her dead. Out of the way. For good. He hated that bitch and he always had. Ever since the moment he first laid eyes on her. Dancing. At the Bronze.
**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************
I went in and noticed, my darlings, that the second chapter seemed to have failed to make itself known on the Buffy page. Don't know why that is, but it's too bad for me since I have no one to thank this time. Haley, thanks for the email, though. Your review isn't up yet... ;) This was a free chappie since the second one was a no show... But if you want me to post I need to hear from you. Sound fair? I entertain, you give me the only payment I'll ever ask of you? ;) A.M.L, Annie. (aka The Narrator) ;)
Three: Dancing at the Bronze
By Annie
2003-03-12
****************************************************************************
Crossing her arms over her chest she merely gave him one of her most threatening gazes. He cocked an eyebrow and after a second or two she was the one to break eye contact. The annoyance a bubble inside of her ready to burst at any moment and she turned her head from him again.
Darn.
Spike crooked both corners of his mouth up into a knowing smirk. An idea had come to him that just might be too sweet to give up. Well, at least much too fun. He'd get to her, one way or another. If he couldn't do it by breaking her body into very little pieces, then he'd do it by reaching into her head and swirl around as much as he possibly could.
She had always been too easily provoked. Now all he really had to do was wait. Once an hour or two had passed she would be ripe for him to pluck off the wine, he was sure of it.
***
10:20 p.m.
Buffy leaned against the wall below the window through which she had been trying to see outside again; after trying to rip the boards down, that was. Soon enough, and on her own accord, she had realized the meaningless of the first venture and simply turned from it to rest back into the position she was currently still in. She refused to even acknowledge the fact that he was in the same room and they hadn't spoken since his remark when she tried to find her escape through that window.
She kept waiting for him to say something. She had never known him to be the one to shut up, and somehow his silence was getting to her in a different and almost stronger way than all his idiotic quips ever had. On the other hand, it wasn't that she WANTED him to speak. She liked the stillness much better. It was just that his quietness was pushing her own thoughts out of her head, making her focus on the fact that he hadn't said a word in over an hour. And so them not talking wasn't a benefit to his obsessive yammering, since she still couldn't seem to think of anything but his obsessive yammering.
Finally she pushed away from the wall and walked across the room to enter the smaller closet. Grabbing one of the mattresses she dragged it out through the doorway and threw it onto the hard cement floor of the basement, making the dust and grinded dirt fly up in a nervous cloud before it slowly calmed down again.
Spike blinked, staring at the object now decorating the empty space as the Slayer disappeared again. Soon she came out with a second mattress and threw it on top of the other. The cloud once more rising, only not as violently, and it seemed to pay less heed to the human's on-goings as it once more took its place on the floor.
Buffy clapped her hands together to get the filth off of them and then she said with a gesture to the primitive bed before them.
"There you go. Now you can't complain to me about the floor being too hard to sleep on," she said before she turned and walked back into the other room.
The wall slid shut behind her and Spike ground his teeth together in irritation.
Bloody hell, he needed to bug her, he needed to be close to her in order to do that. He had seen how affected she had been just by him sowing his mouth shut for a while, and now his presence couldn't disturb her even the slightest. This would NOT do... But what remedy could he find for it?
Sighing he walked up to the mattresses and threw himself on them. Sitting up again he eased his duster off his shoulders and then sprawled it over himself. Suddenly remembering something he threw the leather off of him and got to his feet. Walking up to the bookcase he squatted down and began to gather up some of the blankets on the lower shelf. Rising he smirked to himself as he turned and walked up to the door.
Tapping gently on it he said:
"Blankets?"
"Have them," she replied, tone short and he cursed his bad luck as he recalled there being blankets in there already.
"Well, these are vampire germ free blankets," he tried and there was a short pause before she asked:
"And you think sleeping directly on a vampire's mattress isn't attracting some 'vamp germs'? Besides, I'm comfortable. So go away."
He grumbled silently. Nothing else to do but face the truth of the situation - he was going to fail once again. The Scooby nerds were sure to come before dawn, and if they both went to sleep now - farewell twisting- her-head time!
Walking back up to his bed he threw the blankets aside to once again lay down upon the former. Reaching out he got a hold on his duster and for the second time covered himself with familiarity, and the assurance that came with it. No matter what, at least he knew who he was, and what he was. At least that was permanent. At least that would never change on him. At least himself he would never fail.
***
Day One
11.13 a.m.
"What time is it?!"
He woke with a jerk at her outburst and blinked with sleep-dazed eyes as he slowly sat up to look at her where she was standing in the doorway of the closet. He found himself staring at her ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt. She looked so human that something almost made him wince and for a moment he was transported back to the very first time he saw her - dancing at the Bronze. However, he quickly got a hold on himself.
"What?" he snapped and she walked passed him, up to one of the windows to stand on her toes, her fingertips splayed against the wall as she tried to look outside. "Didn't the fruitless attempts last night bloody teach you anything?" he grumbled, running a hand through his messed up bleached curls before throwing the duster off of him and rising to his feet.
"Sunlight," she said, twirling to face him.
"What? You gonna throw a handful of it in my face?" he asked and she scowled.
"No, you nitwit!" she exclaimed. "Outside! Sunlight!"
He narrowed his eyes, uncomprehendingly.
"This is a problem?" he wondered and she took a step closer, her posture suddenly warning.
"Don't even TRY to be funny," she hissed and he smiled a little.
"What then? Can I in some way ease your worried mind? If there is anything I can do, don't hesitate to tell me," he replied, the sarcasm in his voice not easy to miss and her eyes grew hard.
"Why haven't they come yet?! It must be more than morning, and that means we've been here all night!"
"There you go with the extraordinary deduction abilities - I cannot tell you how utterly bloody impressed they get me every SINGLE time," he stated and she almost walked up and hit him.
The need was great, but somehow she managed to keep it from taking over. He couldn't strike back. It wasn't fair.
"I'm merely saying..." she started.
"No, what you're doing is stating the sodding obvious," he interrupted, shaking his head and bending down to pick up his duster in search of a much needed nicotine dose. "If you ask me..." he began, straightening his back when her fist connected with his jaw and pushed him down again. "Bollocks!" he exclaimed as he felt the pack of smokes being crushed beneath his hand when he supported himself to keep from going all the way down on the floor.
Raising his head he glared up at her.
"What the bleeding hell's the matter with you?!" he growled, tearing his hand up and eyeing the damage with the defeat folding out in his chest like the petals of a flower. "Oh...bloody hell," he sighed, finding but one smokable fag and pulling it out to eye its crooked form.
Buffy fought back the giggle as she took a step backward, but she couldn't suppress the smile spreading wide on her lips. She cleared her throat when he turned his gaze into her merry one, and as his grew steely blue she tried to put on a serious expression, managing to diminish the smile at least by two thirds.
"Wow... looks pretty bad," she said, nodding to the cigarette still held up in his left hand. "But, you know, maybe it's a sign. That you should quit."
He merely watched her in tight silence and she cleared her throat again.
"If you say ''cause it's not healthy for you' I'm gonna thoroughly ignore the pain in my head and kill you. Slowly," he warned and she grew serious.
"I can't believe they're not here yet!" she then exclaimed, turning from him and throwing her arms up in the air as if to gesture her feeling.
She then crossed them over her chest as she shook her head a little, beginning to pace.
"At least now I don't have to get a head ache 'cause of your excessive drug use!" she added and he rose to his feet with anger growing in his chest. He was down to level zero on the patience department with her. "I don't understand this! They're not this slow. Willow would've gotten worried by now. Or Giles, if I didn't check in... And this place is totally creeping me out and YOU... don't even get me started. And..."
"Would you just shut up?!" he interrupted and she swirled around to face him.
"Know what?" she asked, taking the few steps parting them and shoving her index finger in his chest as she continued: "YOU did this. Somehow you planned this whole thing! You knew there was a spell on this house, you good-for-nothing, lying, scheming... VAMPIRE!"
He stared into her fuming gaze with one that bore a perfect reflection of her emotions, and then it suddenly turned dangerous as he leaned forward a little.
"Why would I?" he asked, voice lowered into what she could only interpret as seductive. The slowness of the words making them stroke her ears gently and she felt something swirl up her spine as her eyes got stuck in his. "To have you all to myself?" he wondered now, and as his fingers brushed over her stomach her eyes grew with agitated disbelief.
"You EVER touch me again," she said with as much menace as she could possibly produce into her voice, but he merely raised his eyebrows slightly - the mocking and questioning look he gave her made her clench her hands into tight fists.
"If you can't finish sentences," he adopted her phrasing from the night prior and she bit her jaws together in fury as he finished: "you really shouldn't start them."
Get away from him, a voice told her and she took a stiff step back. Get as far away from him as you can. Soon you'll be out of here. Don't listen to him. Not a single word he says, Buffy. Understand?
Yes. She understood.
Turning once more she walked away from him and up to the bookcase standing on the opposite side of the room. Beginning to look through one of the boxes of nails and tools and scraps of metal she made the sound of iron against iron root out all other thoughts.
He's not getting to me, she thought. There is no way anywhere that he'd ever get to me.
I'm starting to get to her, he thought, smiling to himself as he watched her back. It was easier than I thought. Though she seems pretty pissed... Hah! Perfect. Hopefully she'll run headfirst into a bleeding wall before this is over; have a concussion, slip into a coma and then I'll be there to hear the doctor say those seven magic words: "I'm so sorry, but we lost her."
The mere thought made him want to spin further on her obvious discomfort, but he restrained himself.
He had no idea why her chummies hadn't appeared yet with big, white and red "to the rescue" banderols and White Hats on their heads, and perhaps he had very little time to take this where he wanted it, but if he rushed it he was bound to screw it up somehow. Better let the chance get away than ruin it all for himself.
She was so small. Standing away from him she looked even smaller. It never seized to amaze him how such a petite form could harbor such strength. How it could perform the task of killing and healing, killing and healing over and over and still be intact. Quite intact, in fact.
As he found himself actually letting his gaze slide down her body appraisingly and then suddenly realizing that he appreciated what he was seeing his eyes grew and he tore them off her with a small and shocked grunt over himself.
What the hell was wrong with him? She did nothing for him. She never had and she never would. She was a thorn in his side, one that he wanted nothing but to pull out and preferably get to squash between two fingers. Any sort of attraction between them, or on his part, was completely absurd.
Still, his fingertips bore the feel of the small tremble which had run through her as they brushed against the thin fabric of her shirt. And his eyes remembered the flash of something new in her gaze as her head had tilted back slightly.
Shaking his own head he closed his eyes in pure disgust.
He wasn't even contemplating what he was thinking.
What he had just done, what he had just said and how he had phrased it, had been nothing but an attempt at pushing her in the direction he wanted her: being absolutely finished with him and losing her patience. Then she would be vulnerable.
So why... why did he feel like this?
Opening his eyes he glanced her way again, the angry scrambling of metal against metal consistent and he blinked.
No. Drusilla he had desired. Drusilla had been able to get him going in ways no other woman ever had, ever would. Buffy? That was too sick for even him to imagine. She was his nemesis, and he could never want her more for himself than how much he wanted her dead. Out of the way. For good. He hated that bitch and he always had. Ever since the moment he first laid eyes on her. Dancing. At the Bronze.
**************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** **************************************************************************** ******************
I went in and noticed, my darlings, that the second chapter seemed to have failed to make itself known on the Buffy page. Don't know why that is, but it's too bad for me since I have no one to thank this time. Haley, thanks for the email, though. Your review isn't up yet... ;) This was a free chappie since the second one was a no show... But if you want me to post I need to hear from you. Sound fair? I entertain, you give me the only payment I'll ever ask of you? ;) A.M.L, Annie. (aka The Narrator) ;)