Trick For Your Treats: A Maypole Dance Around Spike
October 31st, 1997
Part 6: Marshmallow Cocoa
18 hours after the fact:
Devon: Man, where'd you go? You totally missed it! Chad Smith! It was fucking amazing! Stacy, tell him how cool it was!
Stacy: Really cool.
Devon: Man, where'd you go?
Spike: Guess I chose the wrong moment to step out for a smoke. Chad Smith, huh? And I suppose we've got a gig with Metallica next week?
Stacy: Devon, he doesn't believe us.
Hesitation.
Stacy: It was Halloween…
Devon: No! No way! That dude was totally Chad Smith! No random dude could've played like that! Oz, tell him!
Smirking silence.
Stacy: He's hit his word quota.
The glare of headlights and rumble of an approaching engine caused Joyce Summers to look up as an old model van rolled around the curve of the road. Joyce crouched beside the flat front tire of her SUV, which she already had up on a jack. She tensed as the van slowed, apprehensive and anticipating trouble.
"Joyce?"
"William?" His familiar English accented voice caused Joyce to weaken with relief. She set down the tool in her hand, and scrambled to her feet, silently wincing at the gravel embedded in her knees.
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you!" Joyce exclaimed, smiling as she took wobbling steps toward the idling van. Her heels didn't jive with the gravel anymore than her knees.
William opened the passenger side sliding door opened and hopped out. "Got a flat tire, love? Do you need a hand?" Even as he asked, he was reaching for the tool shaped thingy that Joyce had been using (or trying to use) to loosen the lug nuts.
"Yes please," Joyce replied immediately, overjoyed to have a gentleman coming to her rescue.
"Spike, do you want us to wait?" asked the young man at the wheel of the van.
"Nah, go on. I'll be alright." William closed the door and approached Joyce, flashing her one of his cocky grins.
Her stomach contracts appreciatively, turning somersaults and causing her to flush. William is far too self-assured and confident of his own attractiveness for Joyce's tastes. If it weren't for the fact that he is a) too young for her, b) unfailingly sweet, and c) an absolute gentleman, then she'd be reluctant to encourage his friendship. Those three factors combine, though, to allow Joyce to enjoy his company without any fear of things getting out of hand.
Besides, Joyce isn't completely naive. She understands the significance of William's tongue piercing… He is gay. His emotional intelligence, sensitivity, and poetical nature prove it. His rough exterior isn't fooling her.
He is safe. Joyce can appreciate his male beauty with complete confidence that it will never go anywhere. It is wonderful to be able to be so honest with a man, and not have to worry about him getting the wrong idea.
The driver of the van checked oncoming traffic, and then pulled out. From the looks of the van and the young people within, Joyce guessed this to be William's band.
"I knew the tires needed to be replaced, but I waited too long," Joyce explained with an embarrassed air. She'd tried to squeeze a few more miles out of the tires, and it'd backfired and bit her on the ass.
"It happens. Why're you out so late, love?" William asked, setting to work on the tire. The muscles in his arms and back rippled and bunched, moving with smooth precision.
"Working late. I had a shipment of Anasazi pottery come in that needed to be unpacked and set up for display."
"Couldn't wait till morning?" William asked, loosening the last lug nut and removing the flat tire, which he hooked with one hand and took around to the trunk
"No, I've got a buyer from Pottery Barn coming in first thing," Joyce explained, trailing along behind him. "The spare is right-"
"Found it." William swapped out the flat for the spare.
"There." Joyce folded her arms and followed William back to the front of the car, feeling a tad conspicuous as he fitted the spare to the wheel.
"Why'd your friend call you 'Spike'?" she asked.
"Just a nickname," he replied, flashing her a grin. "When I was a lot younger, I thought it made me sound tough. It stuck." Task complete, he rose and returned to the trunk in order to put away the tool thingamabob.
"Well, I like William much better," Joyce said, earning a smile from him. "I definitely owe you a ride. Where can I take you?"
A tense and awkward silence descends. William clearly doesn't want to discuss his residence, and the blonde's expression shifts rapidly from reluctance to subterfuge. His decision to lie is as plain as day.
"That's alright, my place is a couple blocks from here. I'll walk."
Joyce carefully hid her reaction. Initially, his duplicity surprises her. However, she recovers quickly. Abruptly, Joyce realizes that William doesn't want to discuss where he lives, because he is homeless. Immediately, sorrow and contrition melt her heart. She feels a terrible empathy for him, and the thought crosses her mind to offer him their couch until he gets back on his feet…
Right up until the vision of Buffy's reaction enters her head.
"Ride home with me then, and I'll make you some hot chocolate," Joyce suggested with a kind smile, reaching out to touch his arm, to offer acceptance and show him that it was okay.
He looked up with shining blue eyes. "With the little marshmallows?" he asked like an eager child.
"With the little marshmallows," Joyce agreed with a laugh.
End Part 6.