Disclaimer: I own nothing
Buffy stood in the midst of the madness and chaos that was the Bronze, and tried to enjoy herself. Oz was playing his guitar, playing remarkably well. Much better than he would with the broken fingers he was going to get if he kept hanging around outside after dark.
And maybe Buffy wouldn't be the one to break them, if he wasn't lucky.
A familiar platinum-blonde head appeared in the crowd, and she stifled a groan. Maybe he hadn't seen her.
Spike approached her, grinning. "Nice band." He said, glancing at the band, then back at her. He grinned. "Fancy a dance, love?"
"With you? I'd have to be dead before you'd have a chance." She replied.
"Oh, nasty." He chuckled. He moved closer, starting to invade her personal space. She held her ground.
"You're trash, Spike." She said. "Just a pig, like the rest of them."
He grinned dangerously. "You ready for a rematch?" He asked.
"Anytime." She said coldly.
"Oh, the time is now." He said.
That's when the Demons crashed the place.
They came in the front door, led by their leader, wearing a strange orange coat that made Spike a bit dizzy.
"All right, ducks, funs over!" He snarled, turning in circles. The kids on the dance floor got off, fast, and several tried to go out the exits. "Tonight we'll party like it's the year 2000!"
Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Spike started laughing. Buffy gave him an ugly glare, reaching back into her bag and fetching a nightstick. That would be the best weapon.
"Unbelievable!" Said Spike, shaking his head. "You lot are unbelievable!" He took a drink out of his cup, savoring the taste of alcohol--it wasn't every bartender that was dumb enough to serve him without carding him.
Their leader approached him, his face dark. "You dare to mock me?" Demanded the leader.
"Depends. Who are you?" Asked Spike.
"I'm Adam." Snarled the other boy, contorting his face. "And before you-- "
Spike casually punched Adam in the face, knocking him down. The other Demons shifted uneasily. "Now, your gang is what, all of ten blokes?" He glanced around the room. "I don't see more. Ten blokes." Spike grinned. "Doesn't seem like a fair fight. Should I tie one hand behind my back?"
One of them, a taller student wearing a headband, grunted. Then he charged Spike, running at him.
Spike responded by jumping up, smashing both feet into the gang-member with a flying kick that dropped them both to the ground. As he crawled to his feet, kicking the Demon, the others stepped back again.
"If you blokes had any idea what you were doing, I'd be the one afraid, not you." Spat Spike. "Pathetic. Adam boy was your leader?" One of them nodded faintly. "Not anymore." Said Spike, grinning.
Buffy hit him in the face, a round backhand that smarted more than anything else. He snarled, swinging at her, which was what she wanted.
She dodged easily, using his momentum to swing him around, slamming his face into a wall without any trouble at all.
"You sure about that?" Asked Buffy.
That's when the Vampires arrived.
It was a fight from the moment Trick and the self-proclaimed Master saw Adam on the floor. They rushed the Demon gang, howling and punching and kicking and biting and gouging.
Buffy whirled into action, trying to down as many as she could, as quickly as she could. She whirled through the room, striking and dancing on, striking and dancing on. Fluid, graceful, and--
Spike grabbed her arm, whirling her around. His nose was bloody, and he looked unhappy.
"Fine!" He said, punching a Demon who was approaching them. "You really want a fight?"
He threw a punch at her. She tried to dodge, but he was moving his leg, and she saw he meant to kick her when she dodged. She rolled back, instead, catching the punch but rolling with it.
He followed up, still angry.
She knew he was feeding off the pain, and she knew he was just going to get angrier and stronger unless she could drop him. Most boys, if you hit them somewhere soft, would stop fighting to go whimper about how it hurt.
Spike didn't whimper.
"Oh, yes." Said Spike harshly, a smile playing around his lips. "This. This is fun."
Buffy whirled, using muscles that had been honed by years of practice. Her heel swept back, knocking him away and down.
Her trainer, Merrick, had been a good martial artist. He'd seen in Buffy the potential to be Olympics material.
After his death, she'd dropped karate. It seemed pointless. A waste of her time.
But fighting, actually fighting for something real, that was Merrick's legacy. She spun again, this time planting her heel in his face. A crescent kick finished him off, knocking him down.
And then he got up, rolling his head on his shoulders, grinning widely.
"Naughty, naughty!" He said.
He was like her. Tough.
She whipped the night-stick around, smacking him on the head, downing him for the count.
Unlike her, he had no real training at all in fighting.
**
Spike woke up to a pounding headache, in the back of a van. He rose slowly, probing his tender skull and finding an enormous lump there.
"Ow." He said.
A red-headed girl turned nervously around from the front seat. "Oh! He's awake."
The guitar player from the band was driving, noted Spike. He sat up, glowering at the red-head, who made nervous noises.
"Where are you taking me?" He asked.
"Back to the school." Said the guitar player.
"Buffy said it was the best place to put you. You know, so nobody would try to take your wallet or anything. Not that I think the people at the Bronze are bad!" Stammered the red-head.
"Ergh!" Spike clutched his head. "That witch." He muttered. "She clocked me but good."
Willow watched him nervously. He made a face at her, and she made a whimpering sound, shrinking back.
"Didn't expect me to wake up so soon, eh?" He asked, sinking down into the chair. "Hey, turn left up there. My flat's not too far away."
Oz did so calmly. Spike examined the too-calm guitar player, then glanced away.
"So you're Buffy's friends, eh?" He asked.
"I am." Said Willow. "Oz is, uh, the guitar player." Spike examined Oz again, reevaluating.
"And you let me in your van because she told you to? Heh." He rubbed his head. "Can't believe that whole mess. How many gangs do you blokes have tearing up this town, anyway?"
"Just two." Said Willow. "The Demons and the Vampires."
Spike grinned. "Stop here, I can walk from here." As the van stopped he leaned forward, closer to Willow, who shrank back. "Tell Buffy I'll be back in the Bronze tomorrow night, would you, pet?" He asked her. She nodded, and he smiled. "Hey, cheer up, pet. Tonight she won." He grinned. "We'll see about tomorrow."
Buffy stood in the midst of the madness and chaos that was the Bronze, and tried to enjoy herself. Oz was playing his guitar, playing remarkably well. Much better than he would with the broken fingers he was going to get if he kept hanging around outside after dark.
And maybe Buffy wouldn't be the one to break them, if he wasn't lucky.
A familiar platinum-blonde head appeared in the crowd, and she stifled a groan. Maybe he hadn't seen her.
Spike approached her, grinning. "Nice band." He said, glancing at the band, then back at her. He grinned. "Fancy a dance, love?"
"With you? I'd have to be dead before you'd have a chance." She replied.
"Oh, nasty." He chuckled. He moved closer, starting to invade her personal space. She held her ground.
"You're trash, Spike." She said. "Just a pig, like the rest of them."
He grinned dangerously. "You ready for a rematch?" He asked.
"Anytime." She said coldly.
"Oh, the time is now." He said.
That's when the Demons crashed the place.
They came in the front door, led by their leader, wearing a strange orange coat that made Spike a bit dizzy.
"All right, ducks, funs over!" He snarled, turning in circles. The kids on the dance floor got off, fast, and several tried to go out the exits. "Tonight we'll party like it's the year 2000!"
Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Spike started laughing. Buffy gave him an ugly glare, reaching back into her bag and fetching a nightstick. That would be the best weapon.
"Unbelievable!" Said Spike, shaking his head. "You lot are unbelievable!" He took a drink out of his cup, savoring the taste of alcohol--it wasn't every bartender that was dumb enough to serve him without carding him.
Their leader approached him, his face dark. "You dare to mock me?" Demanded the leader.
"Depends. Who are you?" Asked Spike.
"I'm Adam." Snarled the other boy, contorting his face. "And before you-- "
Spike casually punched Adam in the face, knocking him down. The other Demons shifted uneasily. "Now, your gang is what, all of ten blokes?" He glanced around the room. "I don't see more. Ten blokes." Spike grinned. "Doesn't seem like a fair fight. Should I tie one hand behind my back?"
One of them, a taller student wearing a headband, grunted. Then he charged Spike, running at him.
Spike responded by jumping up, smashing both feet into the gang-member with a flying kick that dropped them both to the ground. As he crawled to his feet, kicking the Demon, the others stepped back again.
"If you blokes had any idea what you were doing, I'd be the one afraid, not you." Spat Spike. "Pathetic. Adam boy was your leader?" One of them nodded faintly. "Not anymore." Said Spike, grinning.
Buffy hit him in the face, a round backhand that smarted more than anything else. He snarled, swinging at her, which was what she wanted.
She dodged easily, using his momentum to swing him around, slamming his face into a wall without any trouble at all.
"You sure about that?" Asked Buffy.
That's when the Vampires arrived.
It was a fight from the moment Trick and the self-proclaimed Master saw Adam on the floor. They rushed the Demon gang, howling and punching and kicking and biting and gouging.
Buffy whirled into action, trying to down as many as she could, as quickly as she could. She whirled through the room, striking and dancing on, striking and dancing on. Fluid, graceful, and--
Spike grabbed her arm, whirling her around. His nose was bloody, and he looked unhappy.
"Fine!" He said, punching a Demon who was approaching them. "You really want a fight?"
He threw a punch at her. She tried to dodge, but he was moving his leg, and she saw he meant to kick her when she dodged. She rolled back, instead, catching the punch but rolling with it.
He followed up, still angry.
She knew he was feeding off the pain, and she knew he was just going to get angrier and stronger unless she could drop him. Most boys, if you hit them somewhere soft, would stop fighting to go whimper about how it hurt.
Spike didn't whimper.
"Oh, yes." Said Spike harshly, a smile playing around his lips. "This. This is fun."
Buffy whirled, using muscles that had been honed by years of practice. Her heel swept back, knocking him away and down.
Her trainer, Merrick, had been a good martial artist. He'd seen in Buffy the potential to be Olympics material.
After his death, she'd dropped karate. It seemed pointless. A waste of her time.
But fighting, actually fighting for something real, that was Merrick's legacy. She spun again, this time planting her heel in his face. A crescent kick finished him off, knocking him down.
And then he got up, rolling his head on his shoulders, grinning widely.
"Naughty, naughty!" He said.
He was like her. Tough.
She whipped the night-stick around, smacking him on the head, downing him for the count.
Unlike her, he had no real training at all in fighting.
**
Spike woke up to a pounding headache, in the back of a van. He rose slowly, probing his tender skull and finding an enormous lump there.
"Ow." He said.
A red-headed girl turned nervously around from the front seat. "Oh! He's awake."
The guitar player from the band was driving, noted Spike. He sat up, glowering at the red-head, who made nervous noises.
"Where are you taking me?" He asked.
"Back to the school." Said the guitar player.
"Buffy said it was the best place to put you. You know, so nobody would try to take your wallet or anything. Not that I think the people at the Bronze are bad!" Stammered the red-head.
"Ergh!" Spike clutched his head. "That witch." He muttered. "She clocked me but good."
Willow watched him nervously. He made a face at her, and she made a whimpering sound, shrinking back.
"Didn't expect me to wake up so soon, eh?" He asked, sinking down into the chair. "Hey, turn left up there. My flat's not too far away."
Oz did so calmly. Spike examined the too-calm guitar player, then glanced away.
"So you're Buffy's friends, eh?" He asked.
"I am." Said Willow. "Oz is, uh, the guitar player." Spike examined Oz again, reevaluating.
"And you let me in your van because she told you to? Heh." He rubbed his head. "Can't believe that whole mess. How many gangs do you blokes have tearing up this town, anyway?"
"Just two." Said Willow. "The Demons and the Vampires."
Spike grinned. "Stop here, I can walk from here." As the van stopped he leaned forward, closer to Willow, who shrank back. "Tell Buffy I'll be back in the Bronze tomorrow night, would you, pet?" He asked her. She nodded, and he smiled. "Hey, cheer up, pet. Tonight she won." He grinned. "We'll see about tomorrow."