At 11:59, only a few minutes after Buffy was positive her mom had gone to bed, the expected knock came at her window. Shyly, she made her way out of bed, where she'd been laying fully-dressed for over an hour, and to the window. Sliding it open as quietly as she could, she saw him crouched outside on the tree that ran parallel to their roofline.
"Ever been on a motorcycle, pet?"
"No," she said, reaching through the invisible barrier between them to mess with a curl she'd dislocated while running her fingers through his gelled hair a few hours ago.
"Well, there's a first time for everything. Get out here; I'm still taking you out for fun. Our plans just got moved back, s'all."
"Let me grab my coat." Moving away from the window and towards her closet, she saw his head rotating as he took in her bedroom with a predator's glance.
"So this is where you sleep. Where you have all sortsa nasty dreams about yours truly." He licked his lips cockily.
"I wouldn't call them nasty," she said with what she hoped was a flirtatious smile. In reality, the intensity in his eyes was somewhat startling. He looked around, as if trying to memorize the personality that came across in her personal décor. His eyes roamed her rumpled covers, the pictures of her, Xander, and Willow on her mirror, her stuffed animals distributed throughout her room on various pieces of furniture. Spike swallowed as he took in all that was Buffy. How had the idea of just perching at her window and watching her sleep never occurred to him? He knew where she lived; he'd followed her home from the cemetery the other night, just to make sure she got home without being jumped by one of his bloodsucking boys.
Buffy made her way back to the window, pulling a jean jacket over her shoulders. Suddenly, she saw beyond Spike's frame in the window, a car turning onto Revello. It kind of looked like...
"Get in here!" she said without thinking. He paused for the shortest second before minding her and tumbling into the room, through the barrier, and onto her floor. He stared straight at her, wondering what had prompted the speedy invitation, as she stood beside the window and peeked at her driveway sneakily. Yep. It was Giles.
"Guh-ross," she said with a face. So old Rupert was sneaking into her house after they thought she was asleep, eh? Apparently Joyce wasn't asleep after all. Indignation welled up in her at the grownups' elaborate steps to hide an important phase of their relationship from little Buffy...but then it passed, and she was thankful no one had out-and-out told her that Giles and her mom were sleeping together. That was just...weird.
"I don't think he saw you," she said with relief. Both were silent as Spike's sensitive ears picked up a middle-aged woman padding past Buffy's door to the landing. Rolling his eyes at human behavior, he returned to studying Buffy's room. It smelled like his sweet girl- perfume, shampoo, flowers. But other smells too. Night sweats. Tears. Stale blood. Self pleasure. He inhaled deeply.
She waited until she'd heard the adults pass her door- Giles' footsteps were heavier, and more detectable. When she was sure they were in Joyce's room, she turned back to Spike. He had risen from his position on the floor, and was ruffling through her underwear drawer.
"Hey, stop that!" He pulled out a light blue thong with a grin, and dangled it in front of her face as she approached, mindful to be quiet.
"Does mum know about these, doll?"
"They're so panty lines don't show," she said, blushing. He cackled, and she moved to shush him, placing her hand over his grinning mouth. His tongue immediately breached his lips, lapping at her palm. The contact jolted her and reminded her for the first time that she'd just given a Vampire an invitation into her house. This should have bothered her. But as Spike bent to her will, placed the thong back in her drawer, and closed it softly, she decided that this was not a man to abuse that privilege. She hoped.
"Shall we blow this Popsicle stand?" Spike asked as soon as her hand had been removed from its bathing position. She nodded, and accepted his hand as he helped her out the window, down the tree, and onto his Harley parked at her curb. She really hoped Giles had been too excited to notice that little blot on the landscape.
They roared off into the night, disregarding helmets or safety gear of any kind. Despite her jacket, she was still cold, and Spike eventually passed his duster back to her. She liked the way it billowed behind her as they zoomed several miles above the speed limit towards Spike's party destination, a small, run-down town called Loewen. She looped her arms around his waist the whole way, enjoying the feel of the air rushing past her, chilling her; scaring her.
"Can't you go any slower?"
"You slow down, you die."
"YOU can't die; you're immortal, unless someone jabs you with a splinter."
"Someone clearly did not experience the fifties first hand. Beatific, sweets." And this launched them into a shouted conversation over the wind about who Spike had bumped elbows with over his long and highlighted life.
"Flower children were the best. Blood and acid, just one bite."
"Did you go to Woodstock?" He groaned and clutched at his head with both hands. She screamed, but he retook control over the steering of the bike.
"Was with Drusilla in Dresden at the time. Biggest regret I own, and there are many."
"What else do you regret?"
"Not bitin' that bitch Sadie Glutz. She repented, but she was a bloody queen in her dark days- you could smell death on her miles away. I let her slide for the moment in Haight-Ashbury, thinkin' I'd get her another time. Then BOOM! Jail! Sentence! Jesus!" They rolled up to a seedy-looking club, and Spike carelessly left the bike on the sidewalk.
"Is it wise to leave your baby out here? This doesn't look like the best part of town." He grinned.
"People know who owns baby." He took her by the hand and led her inside, past the bouncer at the door whose eyes widened as Spike glided past the line and entered, looking like paying was the farthest thing from his mind.
"Uh, Spike?"
"Once again, I've cultivated a reputation around here."
"Is this a Vampire club?"
"Clientele, for the most part. The staff's humans who have yet to piss us off. All of whom know the Big Bad on sight." She giggled at his label for himself, and he pulled her on to the dance floor. Immediately, differences between this place (Klub Kardon according to the dingy sign out front) and the Bronze became apparent. While the Bronze sold coffee and sodas to their teenage customers, this place reeked of strong alcohol, and perhaps was that blood? While the Bronze had a professional recessed-lighting thing going on, Klub Kardon was dim for lack of lights not strobe. And while the Bronze would have been cranking out Top 40 songs, this place was currently doing a tribute to the Offspring. "I'm not a trendy asshole..." Spike sang along with the music, pulling Buffy closer as some 'friends' of his across the bar looked appreciatively at her hips and neck. He suddenly questioned bringing her here. She was one of a small number of humans present, and the youngest of them by far. He had no doubt of his abilities to protect her, but still...
Reaching into his reclaimed duster, he withdrew a stake cautiously, so as not to cause panic about him, and slipped it into her pocket. She saw the movement, and looked at him with curiosity in her emerald-esque eyes. 'In case,' he mouthed.
They spent over an hour grinding, jumping, and sashaying to the music. Buffy looked radiant, panting and perspiring from the exertion.
"Want something to drink?" he asked as Hit That began to play. She nodded, and he pulled her closer to the bar. He raised his eyebrow as she yelled 'water' over the din, and chuckled to himself. What a good girl he had. No one would have raised an eyebrow had the little girl ordered something hard, it was that kind of place. And she asked for a water. Which he ordered, along with one of his cousins for himself.
"Cheers," he said, clinking his glass with her plastic bottle, and made his way towards the dank couches in the corner, thinking she was following him. When he reached the desired location, however, no Buffy.
He thrust his drink into the hands of the nearest Vampire, who raised it to him and disappeared. This was NOT the place for Buffy to wander off by herself. Maybe she went to the bathroom. Or maybe she left for some air. Or maybe she left to dance. Or maybe she was currently having the platelets sucked out of her jugular.
He closed his eyes, narrowing in on her scent, her presence. He'd have made a great Jedi. He sensed her several feet away, near the door. Duster flying behind him, he pushed toddler Vamps out of the way on his quest towards his girl. He left the establishment, head whirling around for the blonde he'd come with. Turning a corner, he saw a familiar form. It looked like one of him minions...Robert? Richard? What the hell was that bastit's name?
He flew after him. Apparently his men had had the same idea as him tonight. Normally this wouldn't bother him in the least- he let his minions do what they wanted unless he gave them specific orders, even if they wanted to cross many a domestic border and go party miles away from their base. It was why he hadn't been the victim of a dusty coup, as so many other Master Vampires ended these days. Rambunctious youth. Ungrateful kooks.
Rounding the sharp corner himself, he saw Dorian running his dirty paws through Buffy's golden hair. She struggled, terror in her eyes. Another Vampire sipped her Dasani.
"He takes her scent with him everywhere, all over the mansion. This is the girl, boys. This is the one we've been hungry and horny for for weeks now."
"What the hell is this?" he yelled, voice almost cracking in anger. It was one thing for any Vampire to touch Buffy, it was another for his own flesh and blood to do it. Heads snapped towards him as Buffy gasped his name out of a restricted throat. Another Vamp was holding her by the neck.
"Look, it's our fearless leader." Dorian grinned, but the other minions about him suddenly lowered their eyes to the dirty pavement.
"Orders were not to touch that one. Are you bloody fucking mad? Do you know what happens when my orders go unheeded?"
"Well, see, Spike, it's like this. Remember when your senior, Angelus, was shacking up with us not too long ago?" Like he could forget Peaches and his new hairdo. If there was ever a shortage on hair gel, Spike didn't know what his grandsire would do. But was this really the time to be mentally mocking the poofter?
"Angelus said that if ever a lady showed up in your miserable unlife, things would be a bit different." Angelus would know how Spike got when his heart was being used, wouldn't he? "He said to nip anything in the bud, and that you'd thank us later. He just didn't mention that it'd be a human." Spike fumed. Angelus loved to give unneeded and unwanted advice, didn't he? Dorian's words were right from Liam's mouth; something that would be good for his grandchilde, as the blood line demanded, but would make much-despised Spike miserable.
"Well, good news boys. Angelus doesn't know what he's talking about. Drop the bint."
"I'm thinking no. You saved us from a life of misery and misuse, Spike. And now we're going to save you from fucking feminine wiles." As he twisted his head to the side to lower his fangs to Buff's neck, her frightened eyes fixed on Spike's, her hand came out of her pocked, where it'd been for Dorian's speech. And plunged a sharp, pointed piece of wood into the depths of his heart.
As dust floated to the ground, the Vamp with his hand on Buff's neck pulled her to his chest, hands posed to snap her little neck. The uncertain crew who, moments before, had just been following Dorian, was incensed.
"Look what your whore did, Spike. She killed Dorian!" The rest of the gang was just as frenzied. Murder in their eyes, they closed in. Buffy choked out a scream. Spike pushed through bodies to reach her, twisting the minion's arms away from her.
"Not a chance. She's not staying alive."
"'Fraid I say she is. And I'm the boss. So I win."
"We won't respect the authority of a Vampire who cares more about a human girl than his own minions. Especially his right-hand man." Spike bowed his head. It was a crime to lose Dorian. But there wasn't a chance in hell he was handing Buffy over to these demons.
"No. Back down now, or see why it's not wise to piss a Master off."
"You'd kill us? Over a girl?" One look at Buffy, shaking between him and the minion, and he knew the answer to that. It shocked him. But he knew.
"What if I would?"
"Then I think it's time for you to bite the dust." The minion grinned at his lame pun, the distraction which gave Spike the chance to push him back, and grab Buffy. Slinging her over his shoulder, he ran like Hades was on his heels.
"This isn't over, Spike! You're no longer welcome in Sunnydale, so don't even bother going back!" Spike was out of hearing distance.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
Many blocks away, Spike put Buffy down. She immediately gave up the chance to stand on her own, and threw herself at Spike. Sniffling into his chest, he stroked her head, trying to calm her down. If his heart could beat, it would be racing.
Things had happened so quickly. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined the events of the past few minutes or not. Dorian...dead. Minions...not. Buffy...warrant. He swallowed. It was a lot to take in. He was only somewhat positive he hadn't imagined it by the shaking girl in his arms.
Leaning against a hard brick wall, he continued to calm her down, whispering words and not words in her ear. His mind continued to whirl. In sixty seconds...so much undone. He couldn't take anything back. He didn't know if he wanted to.
A motorcycle roared in the distance. His. They wouldn't have dared touch it an hour ago. He had fallen. He had. He looked at Buffy. A swell of hate rose in him; what had she reduced him to? He'd lost everything. Then she raised her eyes, mascara washing down her cheeks, to his. The same lost look haunted them as had when Dorian approached her.
He couldn't hate her. He could hate his minions, he could hate Angelus for his words to situation. But he couldn't hate her.
"You can't go back to Sunnydale." She looked confused.
"Uh, yes I can. I live there. My mom is there. My school is there."
"No, baby. You CAN'T go back to Sunnydale. They'll kill us both."
"Spike, you're a Master Vampire. Just...kill them, or something."
"Buffy, I can't keep forty Vampires away from your neck 24/7. And your mom. And your friends. You can't go back." She looked blankly at him.
Sixty seconds can change two people's entire worlds.
