9: UNDERSTATED
Buffy prowled the street like a hunter. Around her, she detected both humans and other vampires. Every now and then a particularly edible human walked past her on the populated LA sidewalk, and since she hadn't eaten anything for several hours Buffy definitely considered taking a bite.
Only every time she considered it too hard, she imagined the scream and the struggling. She remembered the faces of terror on every vamp victim she'd ever saved, and she felt wretched for contemplating feeding.
She was a vampire with a soul, and she was feeling it.
An elderly black man tripped over his shoelace and dropped his tall stack of cardboard boxes. "Oh, darn it," Buffy heard him mutter to himself. She quickly wove through the crowds and stacked several boxes in her arms.
"Here, let me help you."
The man squinted through his glasses. "You're a good kid," he commented. "Most of the young 'ins today wouldn't lift a finguh..." He looked over the top of the glasses and frowned. "Though the young 'ins mighta been differnt in your day, if I'm not...mistaken."
Buffy frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I've seen many a thing ovuh the years; running inta vampire's hardly goin' tuh s'prise me. The name's Brown."
"I'm Spike." Buffy shook her head. "Let's just get these boxes somewhere." The man gestured toward the closest shop, which had a green awning which read, in peeling white paint, "BROWN'S." Taped to the window was a sign that said, "Brown's books and supplies. Store hours: 7 AM – 9 PM." Buffy entered Brown's with the stack of boxes, and instantly smelled the mixed aroma of scented candles and herbs. The room was filled with with animal parts in jars, strange, ancient weapons, and various stones and gems and other trinkets. Lining the walls, reaching from floor to ceiling, were so many books that Giles would have been ecstatic.
"This...this is a magic shop!" Buffy exclaimed. The old man's eyes twinkled.
He led Buffy through several aisles to the back of the shop. "Hungry?" he asked, grabbing a jar of a red substance from the refrigerator.
"Thanks. Why are you helping me?" Buffy unscrewed the lid and sipped the liquid. "How do you know I'm not going to kill you?"
"Because I'm not evil." Buffy felt that this explanation was lacking a whole lot of logic. Vampire equals killer, usually of innocent people she believed. "Your soul would scream for years."
Whoa, back up. "You know I have a soul?"
The old man laughed amiably. "Might as well go intuh the family histry." He removed his glasses, and stopped squinting. It seemed that the lenses decreased his range of vision instead of increasing it. "I'm a halfie. Ma was human, but my Pa wasn't. He was a demon. I guess I picked up on some of his skills. I can look intuh those pretty eyes of yours, and see de soul..." He frowned, staring even more intently. "This ain't your natural body?"
Buffy shook her head. "No, it's...someone else's. And he's got mine. So, I'm actually Buffy Summers."
The old man stared blankly for a moment, and Buffy got the impression that he was looking past everything in the room and seeing something else entirely. Cryptically, the old man muttered, "Dat's one lucky guy." Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow, ready to inform the man of Spike's lucky history of getting beat up, but the man continued without noticing. "So I 'spose you two'd be looking for a way to reverse the charm."
"You know how to help us?"
He shook his head. "I haven't the slightest," he admitted apologetically. "What I have got, are a bunch of old books and scrolls, and the remains of what used to be some pretty good smarts. If you and your friend would like to try to find the answer in any of my books, even my personal collection, which I keep upstairs in my living quarters, you're welcome to -" he looked at her with twinkling eyes - "come on in, and I'll help you if I can."
Buffy smiled. "We're really grateful...Or I am. He'll probably just be snarky."
The man chuckled, and the noise resembled a toad gasping for air. He was strange and definitely not charismatic, but he seemed to want to help. "Here's my card. It has the shop's address and phone number."
"Thanks." Buffy looked at the Celtic-styled printing. ANTON BROWN, MAGIC SHOP. BOOKS, HERBS, ARTIFACTS, AND CANDLES. As she returned to the hotel, she decided she liked Mr. Brown. She just hoped she could bribe Spike into somehow being civil.
"Whoa, Spike. What's -" The second she entered their room he pounced her, pressing her into the wall with his kisses. Then he pulled back and looked at her. She smiled in confusion. "Why did you..."
"Just felt like it, is all." Buffy laughed and kissed him again. Kiss after kiss, their tongues plundering each other's mouths, excitement building in each of them. Buffy shoved her hips against Spike's, her hardness all too apparent.
Spike ground against her and then grabbed her hips forcefully, guiding her to the bed. "Hey, Slayer...I think I got myself an idea."
She nipped at his neck with blunt, human teeth. "I think I'm liking it." He pushed her down on her back, kneeling over her and running his hands over her muscular, male chest. "What do I need to do?" she asked nervously. Angel hadn't done anything remotely similar to what Spike was doing now...
"Just lay back and let me work my magic," he drawled. The words sent tingles through Buffy's body, and she imagined him saying the same thing in his own face, wearing that sexy smirk...
Magic.
Suddenly she remembered what she'd been planning on telling the former vampire. "Magic shop! I found this guy who has a magic shop, and books, and said he'll help us!"
Spike chuckled, and Buffy realized how much of a mood-spoiler she'd just blurted out. "You have got the worst possible timing I've ever seen, pet," he told her, grinning.
"Yeah." Buffy was again reminded of how inexperienced she was in this field. He's probably expecting me to have at least some clue at what I'm doing...
He was messing with the fly of her jeans. There was a soft pop and the sound of a zipper being unzipped. Suddenly things seemed a lot more spacious in the downward direction...And suddenly he grabbed her, squeezing gently. The thought that he was dangerous never crossed her mind.
It was weird, seeing herself do this. Seeing herself in general was weird – her nose was a funnier shape than she'd thought, her abdomen a little bit rounder than she'd like, and she could see that something wasn't quite right about her arms. Maybe they were a little fat, or maybe just a little too muscular to be delicate and feminine...
He leaned down, and his mouth got awfully close to…
Suddenly she burst out, "Spike, what are you doing?"
"Blow job, pet. You must have heard of these - maybe even done a few of 'em in your time."
Of course Buffy had heard of blow jobs, but why was he...And how quite had it happened, without her noticing, and it felt good but she and Angel had never...God, it felt...She was so completely out of her league. "Spike, wait, what are we doing? -And I don't mean blow job," she pre-empted his ready response, "I mean...I haven't thought about this, not really, about what I'd...I don't know..."
He groaned. She had to think of this now? "Oh, come on, Buffy. It's just sex. Not even -"
"Right, sex," she went on, steadily approaching hysteria, "Which I've only ever had once. With Angel, and then he ditched me while I was sleeping, and went and turned evil!"
Spike changed his position from kneeling over her to sitting beside her. "Luv, I didn't leave this morning did I? An' I'm already evil, so turning bad won't be a problem."
Buffy made a little sound of anger, obviously offended. Sitting up, she zipped up her jeans. "That has to be i the lamest /i sales pitch I have ever heard! Are you trying to sell me on how I should fuck you because you don't have a soul to loose!"
"Well, you've hit on a good point there, but - Buffy, no, it's not like that -"
"Yeah? What is it like, then? You love me? You're in love with the hot, sexy Slayer, is that it?"
Buffy's question pointed in directions Spike firmly did not want to go. There was nothing, no feeling, between them; had she forgotten? "Bloody HELL, no!" was his exclamation as he took a few steps back.
He saw the anger surface in her face, saw her cheekbones suck in. Fuck, why was everything he said or did wrong in this woman's eyes? "Drusilla was never this much trouble!"
The bomb had dropped. Buffy watched Spike, almost blankly.
She realizes she's in their hotel room.
Her room with Spike.
Oh, God, last night. I threw myself and him, and then...
"You're rebounding..."
His arms around her...
"Shh, Buffy, it'll be alright. Not yet, but it'll be alright."
He really was a gentleman last night...
The whole time, really...
Hot lips, against hers...
Not even his at all, but it hardly mattered...No matter how you looked at it, it was the two of them...
I woke up, and he was there...I didn't think he would be...
The arm around her, the body beside her...Hardly the same as Angel's empty sheets...She was something, in his eyes, she had to be...
Why else would he spend his time with me, I thought...But Drusilla...
"Oh, come on, Buffy. It's just sex..."
Never this much trouble... Infinitely better, in his eyes...
She watched him through blue eyes that were not, in any way, hers. Her face was so much blanker when she was the one pondering behind it, because he could hardly hide the fact that he was thinking about something complex...
Dru is easier to handle, but she isn't the thrill Buffy is. Working things out with Dru is easy - hell, we don't work things out, just scream and torture and shag.
Working together with Buffy isn't fun and games, but somehow...When we do solve something -
"I'm taking a walk." The door closed, more loudly than necessary.
"Slayer! Get back in here -" Spike growled, and threw the television remote into the wall. Small plastic shards fell and hid themselves in the shag of the carpet. Spike figured he would have to wipe them up, or someone, like the Slayer, could step on the hidden pieces without knowing they were there.
It was becoming more and more clear that he had a choice to make. Drusilla and Buffy were immensely different, and implied a drastic change in lifestyle...His equivocation threatened him, and he knew he'd have to choose soon.
Actually he'd already decided; the choice was obvious. Drusilla was his soul mate and he loved her. They'd been together for more than a century. There shouldn't even have been a choice.
But somehow there was. He had no idea what had just happened between himself and the Slayer, and now she'd left...
It reminded him of their first fight, of how that golden hair and that beautiful, tight body didn't seem to mix with words like "stake," and "Slayer," of how her smile, even on his face, made every answer to every question wrong but somehow worth the risk anyway.
He slumped backwards and banged the back of his head against the wall. "Ow - bloody hell!" He leaned back more carefully and waited, clutching his throbbing head.
It wasn't until the following evening that Buffy became polysyllabic again. Polysyllabic, not talkative. But Spike refused to apologize, so their communication made little progress. He wanted to give up and return to the love of his unlife, his Dark Princess, but if nothing else, Buffy was necessary in getting his own body back.
Finally, as they were heading out for patrol ("they" being due to the fact that Spike had followed her, despite not having asked and not having been welcome), Buffy realized she couldn't handle the tension any longer.
"Do you wish you were back with her?"
He blinked. "With who?"
"Drusilla. Do you miss her?"
"Miss Dru? 'Course I do," he said, assuring all who heard. Wish to be with her? Sometimes. Surprisingly less than all the time.
Buffy watched the pavement beneath her feet. "Was she good at sex?"
"Yeah, she was quite the -" Spike nodded slowly with sudden understanding. "So that's what's bothering you. Pet...the only thing that's easier about her is how she's less...righteous, I suppose. Doesn't make a fuss 'bout doing what's right an' proper."
Buffy shoved a stake into a vampire with all the force she owned. She glared at it with determination and purpose. Spike enjoyed these things in the way she fought...and talked...and pretty much everything else about her. It had been terrible to see her without her usual vibrancy of life, after Angelus...That had been part of why he'd helped her, Spike realized.
But only part. Part of it was that, and part of it was his attraction to her...And part of it wasn't either thing. After a moment of theorizing, Spike safely decided he didn't understand his choice and he'd leave it at that.
"Yeah," Buffy was saying. "That's because she doesn't have a soul. You don't make choices if you don't have a soul, you just follow your instincts. Kind of like animals."
Animals, she said? That was bull - he loved Dru, and love was a very human emotion...And he was positive he made choices. Hadn't he decided to save her ass? He stared at Buffy incredulously; in shock about the factually casual way she presented her thoughts. As if it were always true, as if she just accepted it since no one could do anything about it.
"That's a pretty high horse you're on, vampire. Hope you don't fall off," he retorted.
Buffy snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't have a soul either."
"You're just loving this, aren't you? The chance to laugh snidely at me?" She glared murderously. "Well, you're wrong, I do have a soul! Where would it go, if not with me? You didn't get it, obviously."
Spike kicked a garbage bin into the street for emphasis. "Soddin' - What was I THINKING, helping you out?
"You know? That's it. I don't need to take this from you. If you don't want to work with me, then I'll reverse this spell myself, and take care -"
"Slayer," he said with brittle calmness, "this is not about me working with you. This is about you, just you. If you can't learn to treat me like a real person, with feelings, if you can't - " He closed his eyes in frustration glanced wistfully into the distance.
His words seemed to echo in the sudden silence of the side street.
"Then no kind of partnership between us is going to work."