CHAPTER 7

Dance With Me

"Are you sure you're gonna be all right?" Willow asked, concerned.

"Positive," Buffy told her. "I'm just feeling a little under it ... probably just lack of sleep."

"We could stay ..." Xander said.

"Please, no. I'm fine. Go have fun. The Bronze will still be the Bronze without Buffy," she insisted. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Dawn gave her a quick hug. They left.

As soon as she heard Xander's car wheels squeal away, she threw off the covers. She wasn't really sick. She just wanted time alone. To think. About ... stuff.

She would have liked to go to the Bronze, really she would have. But lately hanging out with the gang had been suffocating her. They all cared, they all cared so much that it really was hard to find herself again, to just be Buffy ...

She stood up and headed for her closet. She slipped out of her sweatpants and tank top and pulled out a dress she'd bought a very long time ago but never really worn. She gazed at it for a moment before slipping it over her head.

Within an hour she was dancing. And she was almost smiling. The music here was loud and rough and wild, something she could never share with her friends, so different and far from them but oh so right to her at that moment. Her eyes were closed. A thought was drifting up to her consciousness -- I wish Spike was here.

She stopped moving, snapped open her eyes. "No, I don't," she said to herself, vehemently, but the music was so loud nobody heard.

Except for one, supernatural pair of ears. He watched her shake with denial, biting that gorgeous lower lip. He wouldn't have expected her to be here. But then again, what couldn't he expect from this Buffy?

She was so beautiful, he realized for the thirty-seventh time that day. Standing in her blood-red dress, absurdly short and tight, distancing her pain with the distraction of looking impossibly sexy. Hair all about her, pefect waves coming undone with her sweat. Eyes ... there they were, green-grey sea, open now, fixed on him.

Buffy almost gasped when she caught sight of him. Instead she bit her tongue, tasting coppery blood.

She looked away, but he was suddenly by her side. Damn super speed, she thought weakly. She refused to look at him.

He stood watching her profile, rigid with defiance in spite of the pounding music. He thought of words to say but knew she didn't want him to speak. Instead he raised his hand, slowly, brushing her shoulder, running along her hair, moving around behind her still form, listening to her breath quicken.

He stood in front of her now. She still wouldn't look up, afraid he would see what even she didn't know, in her eyes.

He curled his fingers against hers. Slowly she responded, and their hands locked. He brought her hand up, around, to the back of his neck. She held him there, fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck. His other hand slid around and held onto the small of her back, drawing her to him, while hers slid up to rest on his chest. She stared at it.

"You don't have to think, pet," he whispered in her ear. "I just want to dance with you."

She hadn't even noticed that the song had changed.

Nobody could hurt me
Like I know she could hurt me
But there's nothing in this world that I want more

She blinked. Was it just her or did these lyrics strike just a bit too close to home?

Nobody could take me
To the places that she takes me
Places that I've never been before

She shivered but he held her tighter. "I've got you," he said softly. "It's just this, now. I've got you."

With my eyes wide open
Knowing full well

I could fall from heaven
I could fall from heaven
I could fall
I could break
That's the chance that I take
I could fall

She didn't want to think. She wanted to do like he said. But thoughts wouldn't stop. Usually she came to him to stop the thoughts. Her eyes squeezed shut. She was shaking again.

Before she knew what was happening, a hand was under her chin, lifting. She looked up and into his eyes. It wasn't any kind of revelation or anything, to see that blue again. But she couldn't look away.

Look at me I'm flying
A breath away from dying
Holding on to her and letting go
As I walk across this wire
Above a lake of fire
And lean into the wind that starts to blow

And she let go of thoughts. They went as easy as a breath. She dropped her head to his chest with a sigh.

With my eyes wide open
Knowing full well

I could fall from heaven
I could fall from heaven
I could fall
I could break
That's the chance that I take
I could fall

The crowd was stilling, watching vampire and Slayer locked in an embrace, swaying back and forth. They were electric, they were fire, no one wanted to get too close; and at the same time, every person there felt like they were intruding on something completely tender and private.

Buffy and Spike, however, knew nothing of an audience, or of the sparks that were visible to anyone else. She pressed her slight frame to him, and he closed his eyes, inhaling her scent.

Do I hide my heart
Do I lock my door
Do I tear it out
So it don't feel no more
No, I risk it all
Knowing that

I could fall from heaven
I could fall from heaven
I could fall
I could fall
I could fall
I could fall
Fall
Fall

He held her still, as the last chords faded away. The next song that started off was fast and loud and obnoxious, but neither of them heard it.

Spike stepped back, away from her. Her eyes opened and searched his. He saw the questions but didn't answer them.

"Time to stop playing, Slayer," he said softly. "You want to love me, I'm right here. I always have been."

And he left her again, and she was shaking again – with what? Fear, anger, hatred, emotion, desire.

This place had lost its charm. She made her own exit, glancing around for him but of course in vain.

How dare he, she fumed, walking, practically jogging down the street. Presumptuous bastard, as always. He would always think it was all about him. Cocky, insolent, pretentious, conceited, smug, hateful ...

Right?

She growled in frustration and broke into a full-out run. No, she thought fiercely, not right, wrong wrong wrong in every way, impossibly wrong, never right ... he will never be right. Never.

She was crying now, and she was finally home. She collapsed on the back steps, kicking off the boots that were pinching her toes. Sat, remembering the night he'd come meaning to kill her, comforting her instead, right here. She'd wondered why.

She slammed her fists into the wood of the back porch, bruising her knuckles. Wishing she was punching him. Wishing she was touching him. She rubbed furiously at her eyes, collecting tears and smearing her mascara even more. Her hair was tangled and damp with sweat, make-up ruined, but who was there to care?

A bitter smile tugged at her lips. Messy hair is the least of your worries, she said to herself sardonically. What with the dying, the heaven, the coming back, the look on your friends' faces when you told them ... and then falling in love with a vampire. Again.

Really, what girl wouldn't be having a bad hair day?