Mortal Allies Series
Episode 5
War and Roses
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 12: Que Soy Buena
Chapter Notes:
Some dialogue from 'The Zeppo' Written by: Dan Vebber
This is another quite long chapter. I thought about dividing it up, but really couldn't find a good spot to do so. Hope you don't mind the long-ness!
Thanks to everyone who's reading, leaving 'likes' or 'kudos', and special love to you wonderful people who stop in to leave comments. You are all cherished!
Additional thanks, as always, to All4Spike and MissLuci for their beta skills. And to Holi117 for pre-reading this chapter and encouraging me to add more. You can blame part of the long-ness on her. All mistakes are, of course, mine.
-X-
The night was clear, cool, and crisp, but not cold, so the group decided to walk to the Bronze. Xander took the lead, with Willow and Oz walking side-by-side behind him, and Buffy and Spike at the rear. Fluffy Spike was no longer welcome at the Bronze after the 'Great Wing Debacle', as it had become known. (You don't want to know. Suffice it to say Buffalo Wings were removed from the menu after that). So, he, unhappily, had to stay home.
Buffy slipped her fingers between Spike's as they walked, not sure if he'd be cool with that or not, but, to her delight, he curled his fingers around hers in silent reply. Her heart swelled as he squeezed her hand encouragingly, glancing over to give her a look that reflected all the joy and glee she was feeling.
The non-birthday-girl had kept the opal ring on for the night out, determined there would be no slaying in her party dress. It was a new one she'd gotten during the mall shopping spree a few days ago. It was long-sleeved, lacy and black, with a scalloped neckline which barely clung to her shoulders. The bodice was fitted, accentuating her narrow waist and making the most of her modest curves, but the skirt was full and swirly, falling slightly above the knee. She'd gone for moderate heels, just in case of trouble, but Buffy was not going to punch any stupid vampires with an heirloom ring on her hand! If it came to it, Spike could hit them... she'd be... well, she'd just be damsel-y.
"Short pit stop," Xander announced as he pushed open the gate of Hawley Manor and started up the walk.
"We are not working on the house tonight!" Buffy protested as Willow and Oz followed Xander through the gate.
"I just want to take a look," Xander explained. "Make sure the fumigation mission was a success."
Buffy frowned, looking down at her shoes. They were open toed and ideal for showing off Spike's excellent pedicuring skills. They were not ideal for fending off roach-demons.
Spike seemed to read her mind. "No worries, pet, I'll keep the creepy-crawlies off your sweet little piggies."
She snorted a laugh and looked over at him. "My hero," she swooned dramatically, batting her lashes at him.
"Face any danger for my girl," he replied with a teasing smirk. "Even nasty midges."
She laughed as they mounted the steps behind the others.
Xander already had the front door open and had flipped on the light, illuminating the foyer and the sitting room. "Who's the man?" he demanded triumphantly.
Everyone looked in behind him. The floor was covered with dead and dying bugs of every description, their spindly legs waving haplessly in the air.
"Ewww..." Willow groaned, scrunching up her face. "Those were all in there while we were cleaning? That's just... disturbing."
"I call your 'disturbing' and raise you a 'disgusting'," Buffy replied, her own face twisted in revulsion.
"I think this makes me the best slayer in town," Xander proclaimed with a huge grin. "Just call me Xander, the vermin slayer. No foe too big or too small."
"Best Slayer my sodding arse." Spike snorted derisively. "You do realize that it's not just quantity, but quality o' the slay that counts, yeah? Like everything else in life, size does matter, you nit."
The boy spun on the vampire. "That's so not true! Everyone knows size doesn't matter. It's not the size of the rod, it's how you wiggle the worm."
Spike barked out a laugh. "The fact that you're comparing your rod to a wiggling little worm explains a lot about you, Harris."
Xander's face flushed. "That is soo not what I did!"
"Was what it sounded like," Spike asserted smugly, tucking his thumbs over his belt buckle, and rolling up on his toes.
Xander looked at Willow for support, but she just shrugged helplessly. "Oz?" the brunette pleaded.
"Since I'm not a fish, it's hard for me to form an opinion on the importance of the rod versus the worm."
Xander shook his head in dismay.
"It's okay, Xan," Buffy offered, patting his shoulder. "Color me impressed with your slaying of the ooky bugs. It doesn't matter how small your rod is, deadness of tiny demons is the important thing here. I officially christen you the Itty-Bitty Spider Slayer."
Xander sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling the door closed. "Thanks. I think," he muttered as they all started down the stairs and back on their way to the Bronze.
-X-
At the Bronze, Oz headed backstage to help Devon get the Dingoes' stuff unloaded, brought in, and set up, while the rest of the party went to the bar to get drinks.
"What do you want, pet?" Spike asked Buffy as they neared the bar.
"Oh, uh, Diet Coke, I guess," she replied.
"Right, but what do ya want in it?"
"Um, Diet Coke?"
The vampire stopped abruptly and Willow nearly crashed into his back. "Hey! Ever heard of signals?" she grumbled, stepping to the side just in time.
Spike ignored the witch. "It's your... it's Hot Chocolate Day," he pointed out. "Live a little, Slayer. Have a sodding drink."
Buffy fidgeted, shifting uncomfortably. "You do know that legal drinking age is twenty-one, right? And I'm all with the eighteen-ness."
"Didn't ask your age, luv, asked what you wanted to drink."
She chewed her lip, looking over at Willow, who shrugged.
"Um, yeah, okay," the Slayer agreed, looking around at what other people were drinking. "Maybe one of those," she suggested, pointing at a poncy drink a girl at the bar had.
"Piña Colada," Spike declared, shrugging. He turned to Willow. "What about you, Red?"
"Me?" she squeaked. "It's not my Hot Chocolate Day."
He narrowed his eyes. "You telling me you lot celebrate all your milestones and victories with sodding Diet Coke?"
"Oh, well, sometimes we splurge and get regular Coke," Willow defended. "A-and cheese fries."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Rum and coconut water for you too, then. What about you, Harris?"
"Beer me. The Itty-Bitty Spider Slayer is not afraid of alcohol," Xander declared bravely.
"While you're ordering for the underage miscreants, I'll have a beer," came an unfamiliar voice from behind Spike.
They all turned to see an attractive girl, apparently about their age, with shoulder length, honey-brown hair, and determined brown eyes. "Heineken in a bottle," she clarified succinctly when they all just looked at her.
"I'm sorry. Do we know you?" Willow wondered, her brow furrowing.
"Oh. I'm Anya... I'm kinda new here. I know Cordelia?"
"Oh. Fun," Willow droned dryly.
Anya gave them a forced smile that was apparently meant to be friendly. "I could really use a beer, but these ludicrous minimum wage automatons won't sell me one. I have money!" she declared, reaching in her pocket, and pulling out a wad of bills, which she thrust toward Spike. "This is a capitalist society based on supply and demand. I demand a beer—it is their duty to supply it! I don't see how some arbitrary date denoting the exit from a womb should factor into this equation. It's simple economics, which they are completely undermining."
Spike automatically took the money, looking at Buffy for some guidance. She shrugged.
"Right—three Heinekens and two Nancy drinks," he agreed, turning for the bar.
"You're Willow," the girl announced, looking at the redhead.
"Yeah," the witch agreed. "And this is Buffy," she continued, motioning toward the Slayer, "And Xander. Oh, and that was Spike," she finished waving a hand at the vampire at the bar.
"I've seen you all around school," Anya admitted. "You spend a lot of time in the library. You must be very dedicated to the learning of useless information that has been twisted by the patriarchy to serve their own ends."
Willow looked dismayed and confused. "Um... okay."
"I better help Spike with the..." Buffy muttered, moving away from the small group.
"What do you people do for fun around here?" Anya asked as they waited.
"Oh, well... since we don't have cable, mostly we make our own fun," Willow replied dryly.
"Where are you from?" Xander asked the new girl.
"Most recently, I was in Paris. Everyone thinks it's this wonderfully romantic city, but let me tell you, it's a hotbed for scorned women, and dirty, lying, cheating men. It's one of my favorite places."
Willow and Xander looked at her then each other, their expressions awash in confusion.
"Right," Xander said finally. "I can see the appeal," he agreed wryly.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch interminably until Spike and Buffy finally returned with the drinks.
"Thank the gods of pestilence," Anya sighed, relieving Spike of one of the beers and taking a long draw from it. "You have no idea how long it's been since I've had a drink. Thank you for your blatant breaking of inane laws set in place to keep joy from the masses."
Spike snorted. "My pleasure, pet."
"I'll be back soon and allow you to repeat the process, no doubt bringing you great personal satisfaction," the newcomer declared before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
"Weird," Xander sighed, taking a sip of his beer.
"Very," Willow agreed.
"Cute though. I kinda like her," the boy admitted, tilting his head, watching her move through the mass of humanity.
"She must be a demon," Buffy declared.
"Hey!" Xander protested, giving the Slayer an indignant glare.
"Did you get demon vibe off her?" Buffy asked Spike, ignoring her friend's protest.
"Again, I say, 'Hey!'" the boy repeated.
Spike shook his head. "Human."
"Wow." Buffy sounded genuinely shocked.
"Is today 'Kick Xander' day and no one told me?" the slayer of tiny bug demons asked.
"Every day is 'Kick Xander' day in my book," Spike asserted as they all headed for some seats that had just opened up.
"Is it bad that I suddenly miss tall, dark, and broody?" Xander wondered dourly.
"Could bunk down with him, then, I reckon," Spike suggested. "Sure he'd love t' have you... in more ways than one."
"First—eww!" Xander protested. "And second—I've already done too much work to let you out of our bargain."
Spike shrugged as he waited for Buffy to take a seat, then settled in next to her on a small, two-person settee. "Best get used to being a football, then, lack-brain."
"I could handle that. They actually don't kick footballs all that much," Xander contended.
The Englishman huffed. "They do in proper football, you nit. Not talking about that American rubbish, talking Man U and the sodding World Cup—which is actually a world cup, not like your so-called one-country Superbowl bollocks."
Xander sighed and rolled his eyes as he plonked down on the end of a sofa across from the blondes. "You suck."
"Well, yeah... vampire," Spike retorted, smirking, as he curled his arm around Buffy's shoulders and pulled her close.
Buffy snuggled against his side, sipping at her drink. It was yummy, like a tropical island reincarnated as a milkshake, but without the annoying sand.
She sighed contentedly as Spike and Xander continued their bantering and sniping, and the house music played in the background. The ring sparkled on her finger, catching all the different lights that bounced around the club, reminding her that she'd made it to eighteen, not a small feat in her line of work. Also, she had a boyfriend who she really, really liked, even her mom and dog liked him! That was huge with the bonus points. True, there were still some hurdles to, well, hurdle, but she had books at home to help her figure that out. Her friends were all healthy and happy, she didn't have to go away to college and leave her dog behind, and there was no big bad looming over her at the moment. All in all, life was good, excellent, even—though she'd never say that aloud. Way too many jinxes could take full advantage of that kind of crazy declaration.
Taking a break from his 'Kick Xander' mission, Spike leaned in close to Buffy and whispered, "Having fun, pet?"
His cool breath tickled her ear, sending a shiver of fire down Buffy's spine. She smiled and tilted her head, leaning into him. "Much with the fun-ness," she answered as Spike nuzzled through her hair until his lips met the warm, soft skin of her neck. Another bone-deep tremor quivered through her with the contact.
"Best National Hot Chocolate Day ever," Buffy proclaimed, turning and capturing Spike's questing lips with hers.
"No argument here," Spike mumbled against her mouth, before deepening the kiss. Best day ever. Full stop. And it wasn't over yet.
Buffy finally broke the kiss with a gasp and leaned her forehead against Spike's. She loved how he, too, seemed out of breath, his chest heaving, his cool breath tickling her skin. She knew he didn't need the oxygen, but she also knew that he wasn't just acting, putting on a performance. Something inside him needed to breathe as much as she did. Not his lungs or heart or blood, but something more ethereal. Whatever it was that made him Spike, made him so different from Angel or any other vampire she'd ever known—his spirit, his essence—that needed to breathe. It made her heart swell that much more for him, lifting her whirling affections that much higher.
The opening chords accompanied by the Afro-Cuban beat of an over-played song sounded from the speakers around the dance floor, making half the club-goers groan and the other half squeal in delight. Unfortunately for Spike, two of those delighted partiers were Buffy and Willow.
"Macarena!" the two girls shrilled, jumping to their feet, each pulling the less enthusiastic male nearest them up, as well.
"No," Spike refused as Buffy put her drink down and tried to grab his beer from his hand. "Not dancing t' that rubbish."
"Yes! Dance!" Buffy insisted giddily, as he held the beer away from her.
"No bloody way am I dancing t' that shite," Spike retorted firmly.
Buffy rolled her eyes, giving up on divesting him of his beer. Instead, she just began dragging him, beer and all, to the floor as the music ramped up in earnest.
"This is utter bollocks," the vampire growled, pulling back against her grip, but she was having none of it, and just kept going, tugging him along in her wake.
They made it to the center of the crowded space just as the first lyrics, 'I am not trying to seduce you,' blared through the building.
"C'mon, man," Xander cajoled, his own body swaying to the beat as the girls released their partners and began dancing. "It's not that bad."
"Pfft," Spike disagreed, planting his feet firmly on the stained cement that passed as a dance floor.
When I dance, they call me Macarena
And the boys, they say que soy buena
They all want me
They can't have me
So they all come and dance beside me
Xander shrugged and joined the girls, the three of them dancing around Spike like he was a Maypole. He remained staunchly unmoving, not even a twitch of his hips or a tap of a toe. The three young people were laughing and dancing, their hands and hips moving in time to the annoying rhythm, doing the equally annoying dance.
Buffy stopped in front of him, her eyes glittering with mischief as she sang along with the next lyrics, her hips churning seductively to the music.
Move with me
Chant with me
And if you're good, I'll take you home with me
She winked at him, grinning wickedly, as she ran a hand down his chest to his belt. He reached for her, but she skipped back and turned away, presenting her twisting little ass for his viewing pleasure. Spike swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the sway of her hips as she kept dancing. He missed some of the song, lost in thoughts of getting her alone later, of the rest of the surprise he had for her, and just where that might lead. He was pulled back into the moment when every voice in the club, save his, rang out in a cacophony of:
Hey, Macarena! Aaay!
"Bloody hell," he muttered, taking a long draw on his beer, keeping his eyes on Buffy's lithe, pulsating body. He had to move a bit, trying to adjust the growing bulge in his dress pants. To his dismay, he moved to the beat.
Buffy saw it and her smile turned into a gleeful laugh. Her entire body was shimmying to the music as she, along with the rest of the gits in the place, put one arm out, then the other. Her fingertips brushed over his chest, sending a tingle down his spine which settled as a fire in his gut, before she crossed her arms, touching her hands to the opposite shoulder. Spike's eyes followed her movements, roaming over her, appreciating every jiggle, every wiggle, every seductive swivel of her ass, as her hands continued to move from behind her head down to her hips. He licked his lips, unable to stop his hips from mirroring hers as they swirled temptingly just before she jumped up and turned a quarter turn.
Hey, Macarena! Aaay!
"Fucking hell," he grumbled, finishing his beer in one long swallow. He tossed the empty bottle over the heads of the dancers to a dark, empty corner next to the stage. He knew it shattered, but no one heard, and he couldn't give two shits. As soon as his hands were free, he was behind Buffy, his body pressed to hers as she gyrated against him.
Buffy pulled away, turning to face him, still going through the inane dance. "Nuh-uh," she scolded, shaking a finger at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Dance," she instructed, hands going to her hips again as she corkscrewed them to the beat before starting the hand movements all over again, forgoing the turn so she could keep facing him.
Spike scowled at her. "Was trying to dance!" he objected over the music.
She shook her head, her arms and body continuing the repetitive motions. "Macarena first, touchy dance second."
His jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching with frustration, his blue eyes like lasers, boring into her. Buffy just continued to smile at him, clearly not giving in.
"Balls," he groaned, rolling his eyes to the ceiling a moment before his arms began to mimic her, his hips swiveling in a mirror to the Slayer's. But he bloody well refused to sing. He had some pride left.
Hey, Macarena! Aaay!
A wide grin lit up Buffy's face. She glowed with an inner joy—and maybe a touch of evil glee—as Spike went through the motions not just once, not just twice, but three times. He was the only person she'd ever seen who could look completely pissed off while doing the Macarena... but he still looked good doing it! His eyes were an electric blue, sparking with fire, his pursed lips made the razors of his cheekbones that much sharper, and the firm set of his jaw reminded her how well he could take a punch. But the pièce de resistance was the way he wove his hips in a seductive circle, made that much more mouth-watering by the bulge threatening the fragile zipper of his dress pants.
When she tore her eyes away from his swaying hips and looked back at Spike's face, the indignant anger had been replaced by a fiery leer. The heat of it made every cell in her body explode in tiny infernos of lust. Buffy's palms itched to touch him, her pussy throbbed, desperate to be filled, and her entire being thrummed with need. A little voice in her mind told her this was so not good, but the rest of her was having a hard time remembering why. Their eyes locked and held for what could've been a moment or an eon, and she was inexorably pulled toward him, as if in a thrall. But it wasn't the thrall of the demon; it was the thrall of the man that drew her. She turned as she neared and pressed her back to his chest, like he'd tried to do before, her body moving to the beat, matching his.
Spike's fingers settled on the swell of her hips. He pulled her against him as their hips rolled in a tight circle, their bodies molding together perfectly. Buffy looked up at him over her shoulder, her soft, pink lips parted alluringly, her breath raspy, her heart thudding, her eyes sparkling. They moved as one, her back to his front, his erection squeezed between them deliciously, making him moan in pleasure.
She slid one of her hands behind his neck and pulled his mouth to hers for a passionate kiss, even as their hips continued to roll and thrust to the pulse of the song. Their lips devoured each other as if it had been years since they kissed. Hungry. Greedy. Insatiable.
Spike was drowning in her. In the feel of her body against his, the taste of her sweet lips, the heat of her, the grace and power of her. Of all the 'dances' they'd ever done, this one suddenly overshadowed them all, despite the rubbish music it was set to. No fists. No fangs. No barbs. Just their bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity, as if made for each other. His hands drifted up and splayed across her taut stomach, savoring the feel of her muscles flexing and twisting beneath the thin, lacy dress. God, he wanted her. Wanted her with the intensity of a tsunami, which threatened to drag him under.
Buffy closed her eyes as she pressed against Spike. His body was hard—in every way. He was like one of those Greek sculptures come to life. The solid planes of his chest and stomach begged to be explored, and the even more solid erection that pressed against her butt made her entire body tingle and gooseflesh prickle her hot skin. Her mind knew she wasn't ready yet—not for what her throbbing core was yearning for—but in the moment, her body didn't seem to care. She ground her ass back against her boyfriend and could hear and feel the growling groan of pleasure and frustration from him. She could relate.
Hey, Macarena! Aaay!
The abrupt end to the music, followed by the breathless laughing and whooping coming from the crowd of sweaty bodies, pulled them from the depths of their passionate dance. Another song started up, but neither one of them was paying any attention to it, too engrossed in each other. Buffy was radiant as she turned to face him, gracing him with one of her sexiest smiles as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"What was that about 'no bloody way' you would dance to that 'shit'?" she teased.
Spike tried to scowl at her, and he might've pulled it off, but his eyes, as usual, gave him away. He drank her in with those blue orbs, unabashed thirst shining behind his lashes. "You're bloody evil," he asserted lovingly, settling his hands lightly on her hips.
Buffy's grin widened as she opened her mouth to reply.
"And you're whipped," Xander interjected before Buffy could speak.
The vampire did manage to conjure a convincing scowl for the boy who was standing next to them. "Could give you a proper lesson in being whipped, Skippy."
Xander just smiled at him. "Truce breaking would be bad for your undead status, Snaggle Tooth."
"Might be worth it," Spike threatened, his eyes narrowing. "'Course, my luck, you'd just fall madly in love with me and beg for more whips and chains. I'd never get a moment's peace, you wanting my hot, tight little body, morning, noon, and night." He bobbed his brows, his eyes widening as he curled his tongue against his teeth.
Xander blinked, his eyes going distant for a moment, then shook his head, adding an eye roll for good measure. "You're not my type."
"I'm everyone's type." Spike smirked. "My pretty face not monster enough for ya, Demon Bait? This better?" he asked, flashing the boy some fang.
"Not curvy enough for me, Blood Breath."
"Oh, I got curves, whelp. Curves in all the right places." Spike leered with a twist of his hips.
"What? Huh? What?" Xander sputtered.
Spike curled his tongue against his teeth, running a hand down his chest before settling it on his belt, giving Xander a lustful leer, full of decadent promises.
The boy swallowed, finally recovering a small bit of composure. "Y-you're already whipped. Watch, I'll prove it," Xander asserted, turning to Buffy who was still pressed against Spike, starting to look a little put-out that she was being ignored. "Hey, Buffster, have you heard the new NSYNC song yet? I think Devon has it—I bet he could put it on while they set up. Want me to ask him?"
Buffy's eyes went wide as she pulled back from Spike and faced Xander. "Seriously? Yes! I love it! Go now! Why are you just standing there?"
"Oi!" Spike objected, garnering him a smug grin from Xander before the brunette turned and disappeared toward the door that led backstage. "Not dancing to any poncy boy band," he insisted, turning back to Buffy.
Buffy began to laugh. "Like you wouldn't dance to—"
"Hey, where'd Xan go?" Willow interrupted, just then noticing that her friends had stopped dancing, as she'd been pulled into another group, who had continued moving to the new song.
"He said Devon might have the new NSYNC song that he could put on!" Buffy revealed.
"Oh! I love it!" Willow gushed before singing, "Bye, bye, bye..."
"Right, that's my cue t' get another beer," Spike declared, turning from them.
"Aw, baby," Buffy cooed, tugging him back around to face her. She trailed a perfectly manicured fingernail in a lazy serpentine motion down his dress shirt, smiling up at him coyly. "Dance with me?"
"Evil is what you are," he groused again, pursing his lips, trying to maintain his resolve.
"Pretty please?" she pouted, batting her lashes at him for good measure when the song began.
"Balls," Spike groaned as the two girls began dancing.
Hey, hey
Bye bye bye, bye bye
Bye bye
Buffy raised her arms over her head, keeping eye contact with Spike, and began swaying and swiveling that bloody gorgeous body of hers. She knew what it was doing to him—the evidence was in plain sight for anyone who bothered to look. Spike dropped his head back, looking up at the dark ceiling, his hands planted stubbornly on his hips.
"I notice you're still on the floor," Xander taunted as he began dancing with Buffy and Willow. "Whipped..." he muttered under his breath.
Spike sighed, dropping his gaze back to the three friends. He was so buggered. Love's bitch. Whipped. If he had to dance to this bollocks, at least he should be able to feel Buffy's body against his, let himself get pulled under by his Gilded Goddess.
Buffy let him tug her against him, raking one hand over the length of his hard-on before turning and putting her back to him again.
"You're evil," he repeated, his mouth against her ear.
His breath sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine, intensifying the fire that was flaring low in her belly. "You're rubbing off on me."
"Bloody right I am," he growled, thrusting his hips against her arse.
Buffy leaned over until she could feel Spike's erection pressing hard between her cheeks, his hand on her hips pulling her even closer. She shimmied a bit before tossing her head back, her hair falling over Spike's shoulder, feathering deliciously against the sensitive skin above his collar.
Glittering sparks of desire cascaded down her body as he nibbled her neck with blunt teeth. She tried to remember why she was waiting. Her body wanted him. Her heart wanted him. Her mind wanted him... or most of it did. There was one small, but insistent, gremlin that kept trying to get her attention, warning her that there was some reason to take things slowly. She wished it would just shut up.
"Downright devilish you are," Spike moaned into her ear.
"And you love it," she whispered back, sure he could hear her, even over the music.
"Bloody right I do," Spike agreed huskily. Then his eyes went wide, realizing what he'd just admitted. He loved it. He loved her. He had to force his feet to keep moving, his hips to keep time with the fucking ridiculous song, but Buffy didn't seem to notice. She giggled, slipping a hand behind her back, and giving his cock a flirty squeeze before pulling it out again. Fucking hell.
I know that I can't take no more
It ain't no lie
I want to see you out that door
Baby bye bye bye
"This is a rubbish song," Spike said after he was sure she hadn't noticed his 'love' blunder.
Buffy grinned up at him over her shoulder. "You need a lesson in music appreciation," she suggested, pulling from his embrace as she turned to face him. She backed up a couple of steps so the four of them were in a loose circle, all dancing together.
"I appreciate music," Spike called over the noise. "Just haven't heard any yet tonight." His traitorous feet kept moving, though, as if controlled by a puppeteer whose name was 'Buffy'.
Don't want to be a fool for you
Just another player in your game for two
I don't want to be your fool
But it ain't no lie
Baby bye bye bye
"Whipped," Xander mock-whispered, plenty loud enough for everyone within five feet of them to hear.
"Ever been buggered by a chainsaw, Harris?"
"I don't know what that means, but I have one word for you: truce and whipped," Xander replied, laughing.
"That's three sodding words, you nit!"
Xander laughed and danced out of the way of Spike's hand, which had swung out half-heartedly to thump the annoying little git on the back of his head.
Don't really want to make it tough
I just want to tell you that I've had enough
It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie
Bye bye
The song, thankfully, blessedly, ended.
"Can I get another beer now?" Spike pleaded, praying to all things that were evil that Devon didn't have any sodding Pee-Wee Herman in his collection, cos that would just make this night complete.
In the next moment, though, all his annoyance melted away under the warmth of Buffy's smile. She took his hand and walked with him back over to their seats, Willow and Xander following.
"The Dingoes should be starting soon," Willow announced excitedly.
"Thank bloody god," Spike muttered as they reached the settee. "You need anything, pet?" he asked, looking from the bar to Buffy.
"I do," she replied coyly. "Kiss?" She touched a pink fingernail to her glistening lips.
Spike's brows bobbed, a sexy smile curving his mouth. "Well, can't leave my girl wanting, now, can I?" he asked, leaning in to comply.
"Geez, get a room," Xander moaned. "And get me another beer while you're at it, Twinkle Toes."
Spike growled as Buffy pulled away from the kiss with a giggle. He turned thunderous eyes on the boy, who had flopped onto the sofa that sat at a right angle to the love seat. "I'm still the Big Bad, and you're this far away from that chainsaw, Short Bus," he threatened, holding his thumb and forefinger up about a hair's breadth apart.
"Yeah, yeah," Xander dismissed. "Beer me."
Spike scowled at him, then turned to Buffy. "Not kidding, pet. Just about had it with that tosser."
She patted his arm placatingly. "He doesn't mean anything by it. We all know you're the Big Bad, sweetie. Evil vampire, buyer of alcohol for underage drinkers, and surprisingly good at the Macarena. Or maybe not so surprising, given how well you fight," she mused, her brow furrowing.
Her vampire growled in frustration. Buffy laughed. She rose up to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, "Play nice and I'll make it worth your while," she tempted.
He pulled back to meet her gaze, his eyes suddenly like liquid fire, burning with desire. Buffy bobbed her brows enticingly. "I mean, the night's still young... you never know what might happen." She shrugged a bare shoulder, suddenly looking shy.
Spike's teeth closed on his bottom lip. "Never know," he agreed before touching another quick kiss to her lips and turning for the bar. He didn't get far, however. He'd taken one step, his attention still on Buffy, when he bounced off a solid chest.
"Oi! Watch where you're—" Spike's objection died as he met Angel's stony gaze.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" the bigger vamp asked, shifting his eyes from his grand-childe to Buffy.
He had certainly cleaned up since they'd last seen him at the library earlier in the week, and most of his wounds were little more than healing bruises now.
"Angel," Buffy breathed, looking between the two vampires with trepidation. Damn it! She wasn't the Slayer tonight! She had on the 'magic ring'. She couldn't be breaking up bar fights.
"By invite only," Spike rumbled, squaring his shoulders, and facing off with the taller vamp.
"Must've gotten lost in the mail," Angel asserted, looking back at Spike.
Spike sneered. "Not sodding likely, gramps. Why don't you mosey along? I'm sure there's some navel gazing or some such rot you need to be seeing to."
"Here you go, dude," a new voice interjected, handing Angel a tumbler of amber liquid. "Oh, hey! It's a party," Faith observed dryly. "If I'd known, I would've worn my party dress."
Everyone's eyes darted to her, taking in the lacy, black dress and strappy stiletto heels she was wearing. Her low-cut, sleeveless dress, which had a thigh-revealing, kerchief hem that lengthened to something marginally respectable in the back, rivaled Buffy's as a sexy party dress.
Buffy scowled at her. "You two drinking buddies now?" she asked her sister Slayer.
Faith shrugged, making the spaghetti strap on one shoulder slip down. "Could say that, I guess," she replied, casually sliding over to press herself beneath Angel's arm, which wrapped around her as if it wasn't the first time. "Usually go to Willy's, but there's no dancing there, unless you count staking the clientele."
"So, there's a 'usual'?" Buffy asked, her hands clenching into fists beneath her crossed arms. "You do remember those stories everyone told you about Angelus, right?"
Faith gave Buffy a little wink. "We're just good friends," she assured the blonde. "A little drinking, a little dancing, a little slaying... nothing soul-threatening."
Buffy could almost hear 'yet' unsaid at the end of the sentence. Christ, was Faith that upset about a little sparring match that she'd risk unleashing Angelus? That seemed... inconceivable.
"Besides," Faith continued tauntingly. "There's ways around the whole 'perfect happiness' clause. Can always find ways to make it hurt enough but not hurt too good..."
Buffy blanched, the color draining from her face. Were they… could they…? Faith had to be lying, didn't she? Always trying to shock, playing the bad girl, always trying to get under Buffy's skin. The dark Slayer grinned wickedly, making Buffy clench her jaw and look away, refusing to be baited.
Her gaze landed on Angel.
Faith had no valid reason to be upset with her, Angel, on the other hand, did. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, with the gyp—the Romani. I know you were trying to help me. I meant to tell you about Giles and the Council and the poisoning at the hospital that night. I really thought I had told you."
"Well, you didn't," Angel growled, his arm tightening fractionally around Faith.
"I get that—I'm sorry," Buffy said placatingly. "I'm sorry you got hurt trying to help me. Thank you for trying. I really appreciate it... I owe you one."
Angel rolled his eyes. "And you pay me back by dating little Willie-Wanna-Be?"
Spike bristled, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but Buffy stepped in front of him, between the two vampires, still facing Angel.
"How did you know—?" Buffy began to ask, but then sighed. "Creepy vampire smelling?" she guessed.
Angel snorted. "Yeah, that—his scent is all over you. I also used my enhanced vampire eyeballs to watch you kissing him. Plus, Faith told me."
Spike took that opportunity to step up close behind Buffy and wrap a casual arm across her collarbone, looking over her shoulder at Angel. "Shame that, wanted to be the one to break the happy news to you m'self, old man," he needled. "Going steady, we are—in a relationship."
"That'll end well," Angel muttered, taking a sip of the drink he had in his hand.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy demanded, all the doubts and fears about herself that she'd been shoving into the dark recesses of her mind suddenly illuminated by the blinding spotlight of her former lover's critical remark.
Angel snorted derisively, taking another swallow from his drink. He pulled away from Faith to take a step nearer Buffy. "You know exactly what I mean," he contended in a low voice, his dark eyes boring into hers.
"No, I really don't," Buffy retorted, lifting her chin defiantly, though she felt a sinister shiver of dread run down her spine.
"You really think he's gonna keep bagging it after he gets in your pants?" Angel scoffed, waving his half-empty glass at them. "That's all he wants! You know it too or I'd be smelling more than your perfume and sweat on him. As soon as he gets his dick wet in that little cunt of yours, it'll be—"
Whatever Angel was gonna say was cut off by Spike's fist connecting with his jaw. The bigger vamp stumbled back a step, his glass tumbling from his fingers and shattering on the floor, sending whiskey splashing and glass skittering around them.
Spike's dress shoes crunched through the shattered tumbler as he closed on his grandsire. "Shut your gob, you miserable git! Don't know a bloody thing about me or you'd know this isn't about that! Come to that, ya don't know a fucking thing about her either, you gormless twat!"
Faith started to step in to help Angel, but Buffy shouldered her to the side, turning the opal ring on her finger so that the stone faced her palm, just in case.
Angel swung at Spike, but the smaller vampire danced back, ducking out of the way easily. "Fuck you, Spike!" Angel sneered, taking another wild swing at his grandchilde.
"All you've ever done, you right bastard, fuck me! Fuck everyone. Well, I'm done being buggered by you, Angelus! Done livin' in your shadow, never enough!" Spike spat back, taking the opportunity to hit his grandsire with a hard jab to the ribs.
"You don't deserve her!" Angel growled, shifting into game face as he bent over, clutching his side.
"Neither do you!" Spike retorted angrily, bouncing on his toes, and circling the larger vamp.
"STOP IT!" Buffy shouted, grabbing Spike's arm, and heaving him back toward Xander and Willow, who had gotten up and were now standing behind the blondes, watching the carnage. "I mean it! Stop!"
"He started it!" Spike objected, as Xander caught him and at least made a pretense of holding the vampire back.
"This again?! How can I communicate to you how much I do not care!" Buffy barked. "I don't need you banned from the club too. One 'Spike' on the 'no entry' list is more than enough." She whirled back on Angel, who was still in game face. "My life is my business," she snarled. "I'm with Spike. I... I care about him. If you can't accept that, then you can keep your mouth shut about it."
"He can't love you," Angel protested, shifting back to his human guise. "He'll turn on you! He'll betray you as soon as he gets what he wants. Everything he does is about him and what benefits him. He doesn't have a soul!"
"Oh, stop," Buffy moaned, rolling her eyes, and crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't try to feed me that old Council bullshit. It's not working anymore. I've grown up, Angel; I'm not that little girl you first met."
Angel snorted. "You can say that again. That girl would've never—"
"That girl was naïve. That girl thought the world was black and white. I know it's not," Buffy cut him off. "Giles drugged me—he nearly got everyone I love killed. Giles! A very souled human person. The person I trusted most in this world. Spike..." she continued, waving a hand back toward her vampire, "...saved me, he saved everyone I love, even Giles. That soulless demon sacrificed himself for me, for all of us."
"I would've done that if you'd only asked me, told me what was going on," Angel protested.
"Are you even serious right now? I did ask you! I came to you for help and all you wanted to do was tell me I had the flu or caught something from my dog and get all pouty about him sleeping in my room," Buffy reminded him vehemently.
"I don't pout," Angel objected.
"Fine, sulk, then," Buffy provided with huff. She took a deep breath to calm down before continuing. "I've seen how Spike can love, I've seen his loyalty and his bravery. I've seen him sacrifice himself for the people he cares about. Angelus couldn't love, but Spike is not you. He never has been."
"I'm not Angelus," Angel pouted, despite his assertion that he didn't pout.
"Right, well, then, Angel, if you love me, you'll make like that old song says and set me free. If I don't come back, take a hint."
Angel huffed out an exasperated breath mingled with a growl.
"C'mon, big guy," Faith interrupted, grabbing Angel's arm, and tugging him away. "I'll buy you another drink. At Willy's."
"Sounds good," he agreed, shooting Buffy one last glower before turning and following Faith out.
Buffy sighed, looking down at her feet. She backed up out of the puddle of whiskey and glass shards as one of the maintenance guys came up with a mop and a bucket.
Xander released Spike, as if he could actually hold him if the vampire didn't want to be held, and the blond fished a few banknotes out of his pocket, handing them to the janitor. "Sorry for the mess, mate."
The man looked at the money, his brows rising in shock. He grabbed it out of Spike's hand, clearly afraid the Good Samaritan would change his mind. "Cleaned up worse." He shrugged, pocketing the money before continuing with his duties.
Spike turned to Buffy, looking abashed. "Sorry, pet. Didn't mean t' start a row, the wanker just... wasn't right what he said. Couldn't stand him talking 'bout us like—"
"I know," Buffy sighed, closing the distance between them, and leaning into him, pressing her cheek to his chest. Spike's arms snaked around her, holding her in a loose embrace. "You're pretty predictable with the whole White Knight, chivalry reflex."
"Think I'm chivalrous, do you?" he teased, touching a kiss down on top of her head.
Buffy snorted a soft laugh. "I'm not sure you're taking that the right way, Sir Fights-A-Lot. I can make with my own battle waging."
"Know you can, Sunshine, just... can't help m'self. Not gonna let anyone talk about you like that, like you're nothing but a bit of skirt. Meant it when I said it wasn't about that, luv. You're... God, Buffy, being around you's like sunbeams and blue skies and sodding rainbows. Things I never thought I'd touch again."
"You touched rainbows? What are you, that Lucky Charm leprechaun guy?" she asked, looking up at him, her smile teasing.
"P-lease. Not some Irish bugger... just a bit o' poetic license."
"Oh, more poet-ing, huh? One of these days you'll have to write me a real poem... with sunbeams and blue skies and rainbows."
Spike leaned down and kissed her softly. "There once was a girl made o' sunbeams," he began in the familiar cadence of a limerick when their lips parted. "Whose right jab was the stuff o' wet dreams."
Buffy laughed, slapping lightly at his chest as she pulled away. "A real poem!" she insisted.
"What? Limericks are real poems! Shakespeare wrote sodding limericks... Mark Twain, Rudyard Kipling..."
She rolled her eyes as Xander and Willow came up to them.
"That was almost birthday-worthy," Willow said.
The Slayer nodded, looking back at the exit as if she could still see Angel and Faith. "A little too close for comfort," she agreed.
"Faith's not... I mean, she wouldn't... with Angel... you know?" Xander stuttered.
Buffy sighed, looking back at her friends. "I don't think so. She's... well, she's Faith, but she's not stupid."
Willow and Xander looked doubtful.
"Maybe I should—" Buffy began with a worried grimace, turning for the door.
"No!" all three of her companions said at once.
Willow continued, "It's your... National Hot Chocolate Day! Poop-head exes and sleazy Slayers aren't going to ruin it. I'll just call Giles and he can, you know, do the Watchery thing and check on, um, stuff."
"Giles isn't technically a Watcher anymore," Buffy pointed out.
The witch shrugged. "Then he can get Lydia to go with in an official 'Faith-sitter' capacity. Anyway, the Dingoes are about to start now that the ruckus is over," she pointed out, waving a hand at the stage where Oz and Devon were doing a last-minute adjustment to their mics.
Buffy looked up at Spike. "What do you think?"
"Think if the wanker loses his soul again, you'll let me stake him good and proper. See if the bloody Powers can find enough to bring him back with all his bits blowing in the wind."
The Slayer rolled her eyes as the Dingoes began playing. She looked down at her hand, turning the family heirloom ring back around so she could see the gem sparkle in the lights coming from the stage. Damn it. It was her night. Was one night a year off too much to ask? After the year she'd been through, it seemed like it was the least she was owed. She looked up at Willow and nodded. "Call Giles. It's my night off."
Willow beamed a bright smile and headed for the payphone.
"Thought you were buying me another beer," Xander said, punching Spike lightly on the arm. "Watching you deck Angel makes a guy thirsty. Also, envious."
Spike rolled his eyes, then looked back at Buffy. "You need another, luv?"
Buffy stepped over, picked up her half-melted, half-empty Piña Colada, and drained it. She handed him the empty glass and nodded. "More tropical yumminess, please. It's my night off and those two are not gonna ruin it."
Spike grinned, taking the glass, and heading for the bar, glad his bloody mingebag of a grandsire hadn't mucked up the entire evening. He would have to stake him for that, soul or not. As it was, Buffy had stood up to the great forehead on his behalf, not denied their relationship, gave Spike his due for the things he'd done for her and her band of merry miscreants. Overall, that had been a bit of all right.
"There once was a girl made o' sunbeams," he muttered as he wove his way through the crowd.
"Her right jab is the stuff o' wet dreams.
"Got my fires astir,
"God, but I love 'er,
"And she's right fond o' me, so it seems."
He shrugged, still smiling to himself. Not the worst he'd ever come up with.
"What was that?" Xander asked, coming up behind the vampire.
Spike turned and scowled at the boy. "Wasn't talking to you, was I?"
"Sounded rhymey, like a poem. Is the whipped wittle wampire whiting poems for his 'weetie?" Xander teased in an Elmer Fudd, baby-talk voice.
"The master vampire's gonna rip your bloody head off and piss down your neck," Spike threatened.
Xander canted his head to the side contemplatively. "Do vampires piss? I mean... I've seen you drink plenty of beer, but never saw you make a trip to the little boys' room."
"You're sodding certifiable! It's a bloody saying, you tosser! Here's another one, keep yammering at me and I'll have your guts for garters."
"Ah-ah-ah," the boy chastised, waggling a finger at Spike. "Annoying vampires who want to stay undusty have to play nice."
A rumbling growl vibrated through the air, emanating from the annoyed vampire's chest, as Spike curled his hands into fists at his sides. "One o' these days, Harris..."
Xander laughed and chucked Spike on the arm. "Yeah, yeah... one day," he agreed. "Now, buy me a beer and we'll call it even."
"How the bloody hell d' ya figure that, lack brain? Should be you buying me a sodding beer!"
The boy turned out his empty pockets. "How 'bout I pay you back after I get one of those gigolo jobs down in Mexico?"
The vampire snorted and rolled his eyes. "Bloody sun'll be burned out 'fore that happens," he muttered, turning back around toward the bar. As he turned, he bumped into someone—again. Seeing it wasn't Angel, he apologized. "Sorry, mate."
"What the hell's wrong with you?" the guy demanded, glaring daggers at Spike.
Spike's brows shot up, but before he could reply, Xander stepped between the angry patron and the vampire, holding his hands up in placation. "Jack! Hey, man! Great seeing you. My friend here didn't mean anything—was just an accident."
"Accident? That was no accident! What are you, retarded?" Jack snarled.
"No! No, I had to take that test when I was seven. A little slow in some stuff, mostly math and spatial relations, but certainly not challenged or anything. C'mon, man... we're all friends here. I'll buy you a drink."
"Didn't think you had any dosh," Spike pointed out from behind the brunette.
Xander laughed nervously, but didn't look away from Jack, who was still looking angry, spoiling for a fight. "I'll buy you a drink with Spike's money. Whaddya say?"
"I oughtta cut your face open," the other guy decided, reaching beneath his jacket.
"Hey, hey, whoa, whoa, whoa... It was an accident. Cool down."
"When I get my buddies together, we're gonna kick your ass 'til it's a brand-new shape."
Spike snorted derisively.
"You got something you'd like t' say, numb nuts?" Jack challenged. His narrow, angry eyes focused past Xander, landing on the vampire, as he drew an impossibly long knife from beneath his jacket.
"Jack, man—" Xander began, but Spike cut the boy's words off by pushing him out from between him and the other guy.
"Yeah," Spike admitted, his arm moving with supernatural speed and snatching the knife from Jack's hand. "I got something t' say. Get stuffed!" And with that, he slammed the long blade into Jack's abdomen to the hilt and then yanked up, fileting him from stem to stern.
"Holy shit! Spike!" Xander exclaimed in horror as the vampire caught the gutted man before he could fall and began dragging him toward the door. "You killed Jack! You... I... you..." He swallowed nervously then squeaked, "Buffy! Help!" But his voice was drowned by the crowd and the house music.
Spike rolled his eyes as he made his way through the crowd with the corpse, careful to keep the gushing wound from bleeding onto his dress slacks. Funnily, hardly anyone even gave him a second glance. "Didn't kill 'im, the sod was already dead."
"What?" Xander exclaimed as he started following Spike, carefully avoiding stepping in the dark blood that smeared the floor.
The vampire banged his hip against the push rail on the heavy, fire-exit door and it swung open, spilling light out into the dark, side alley. After dropping Jack onto the dirty pavement, Spike looked down at his new clothes. Just a few spatters of blood. Barely noticeable.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the boy demanded, following the vampire outside. "He went to Sunnydale High! He's a year ahead of me."
"He's a bloody zombie," Spike insisted, leaning down to twist the knife in Jack's abdomen.
Jack screamed. His eyes flashed open, and he reached for the blade, suddenly becoming animated again.
"HOLY SHIT!" Xander jumped back, his eyes wide. "How is he not dead?"
"Are you sodding retarded?"
"I think we already covered that!"
"He's a fucking zombie, you nit!" Spike yanked the knife out, lifted it, and slammed it down in the middle of Jack's forehead, and the struggling ceased.
Spike backed up, holding his bloodied hands out away from his body to keep from sullying his clothes any further. They both watched as the zombie began to liquify, melting into itself, until it was nothing but a deformed pile of gelatinous goo with a knife sticking out of it.
Xander touched it with his toe and a burble of air plopped out of the middle of it, making him squeal and leap back again.
"What were they doing, grading on a curve when you took those tests, you twit?"
"Jack was a zombie! He sat behind me in Concepts of Basic Math. He... he could've eaten my brains!"
"Not worth the trouble t' crack your skull for that pea-sized bit o' grey matter," Spike pointed out as he headed for the door.
"Jack was a zombie!" Xander repeated dazedly, following the vampire. "That... that explains so much!"
"This is the crack team that thwarted all m' plans," the blond grumbled as he headed for the restroom to wash up. "I am deeply ashamed."
-X-
As Spike, followed by Xander, went to get the refills on their drinks, Willow dragged Buffy over to the settee and tugged her down, the redhead's eyes wide and inquiring. "Ignoring the Angel thing, are you having fun? Spike really looks nice tonight, doesn't he? Who knew that his wardrobe included anything other than black-on-black. And with the dancing! I can't believe you got him to dance to those songs," she gushed.
Buffy chuckled and focused on her friend. "Mom got him some new clothes at the mall. I think she felt bad for all the black-on-black that got destroyed over the last couple of weeks."
"Well, the blue shirt really brings out his eyes. And those dress pants cling to his butt just right," Willow observed, looking back in the direction Spike went, but she didn't see him.
"Willow Rosenberg!" she chided. "You have a boyfriend! Stop ogling mine!"
The witch smiled widely, turning back to Buffy. "Okay, okay... but you gotta admit that I'm right."
"Oh yeah," Buffy agreed, her eyes shining as they scanned the crowd, but not finding said butt. She looked back at Willow, leaned in, and whispered conspiratorially, "They cling pretty nicely to his front, too."
"Buffy Anne Summers!" Willow mock scolded. "You naughty, naughty girl!"
The blonde laughed, her face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and delight.
"So... how's the sciencing going?" Willow wondered excitedly.
Buffy's blush deepened but she grinned wickedly. "Bases are being run, we're kind of teetering between third and... is there a fourth base? I feel like there needs to be a fourth base... 'cos we're not at home yet, but kind of rounding third? Every time we take any steps past third something always happens to slow the roll. Which, honestly, I'm okay with. There needs to be a bit of roll-slowing, you know, for the sake of science."
"And Spike's good with that?" the redhead questioned.
"He's been all about letting me make with the pace-setting."
Willow nodded. "Good. I guess I won't need that shovel after all."
"Shovel for what?" Buffy asked, her brows creasing.
"To beat him to a bloody pulp if he hurts you, or, you know, is ungentlemanly," Willow stated vehemently.
Buffy laughed. "Well, don't be too quick with the shoveling. Sometimes a girl doesn't mind a bit of ungentlemanly-ness," she teased, finally catching sight of Spike up near the stage. He was saying something to Oz, who kept playing but nodded as Spike dropped a handful of bills into the tip jar. Buffy bit her lip. That just couldn't be good. Did the Dingoes actually know any songs by the Ramones or the Dead Kennedys or any of those other bands Spike preferred?
"Buffy!" Willow gasped in exaggerated horror. "Just how ungentlemanly are we talking?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling with teasing amusement. "Just what's waiting on this fourth base?"
Buffy bit down on a grin. "Well, we've had the kissage, and the petting, and the fondling over the clothes, and..." She paused and looked around, but no one was nearby. She lowered her voice, "And the fondling and, um... stuff, under the clothes. But all, you know, hand-stuff."
"Ooo, was that good?"
"Sooo good," Buffy moaned, remembering Spike's fingers as they sunk into her.
Willow's eyes flashed, a wide smile on her face. "But no tongues, you know, down—"
"No!" Buffy interrupted, her eyes wide again, looking around for eavesdroppers, but seeing none. "That's... like, that should be fourth base, right? A-and then... home... later-ish."
The witch nodded, her face alight, pleased to finally be getting some juicy details. "How much later-ish are we talking?"
Buffy knew what she'd like the answer to that to be—later tonight-ish—but she really wasn't ready yet. Maybe she should talk to Willow about her doubts and fears, about her... inadequacies in the bedroom. She'd done okay so far, or at least Spike seemed to have liked what she'd done, but tromping around the bases did not make her good at smacking it out of the park. Maybe there was some easy answer, a secret that Willow could tell her to make sure she didn't make a fool of herself with Spike when they finally got to 'home'. But if that was true, why would there be a whole book written on the subject? Well, lots of books, actually. Buffy wouldn't be able to bear it if Spike looked at her like Angel... Angelus had after their one night.
The Slayer's smile faltered as Angelus' hurtful words careened around inside her heart like a wrathful ghost, 'Like I really wanted to stick around after that. You got a lot to learn about men, kiddo. Although I guess you proved that last night. You were great. Really. I thought you were a pro.'
She swallowed and forced her smile back into place. Buffy was saved from answering her friend by Spike's and Xander's reappearance.
"Did you know Jack O'Toole was a zombie?" the boy asked them excitedly.
"That jerk from school?" Buffy questioned.
"The very one."
"No. When did that happen?" the Slayer wondered. "He wasn't a zombie a few weeks ago when he tried to pin me against the lockers and cop a feel."
"He did what?" Spike growled.
Buffy gave him a reassuring smile. "I handled it. Is he here?" she asked worriedly. She sooo didn't want to make with the slayage tonight.
"Not anymore," Xander said as he flopped onto the couch opposite her.
"Took care of it, luv," Spike informed his girlfriend, handing her the poncy drink, and shooing Willow from his spot. "Should'a taken more time with the bugger," he muttered darkly.
"More talking later!" Willow insisted, giving Buffy her resolve-face as she got up and joined Xander on the other couch.
The Slayer looked Spike over critically, noticing the small splatters of blood on his pants. "Are you okay?"
He plopped down next to her with his beer, and she automatically tucked herself against his side, beneath his arm. "I'm fine. The wanker's a pile o' goo in the side alley. Won't be copping any more feels, I can tell ya."
"My hero," she swooned dramatically, batting her lashes at him.
He knew she was taking the piss, but it still made Spike's heart do a little jig when she looked at him like that. "Did I interrupt some burning girly conversation?" he asked, looking over at Willow, then back at his sweetie.
Buffy smiled up at him as she took a sip of the sweet, beach-y concoction. "Nothing of the dire. I'd rather be doing this," she assured him, settling one hand down on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze.
He leaned in and nuzzled against her neck and Buffy giggled.
"Tickles!" she exclaimed, her shoulders rising in defense.
"Does it, then?" he rumbled melodically against her skin and the tickles turned to tingles skittering down her body.
Buffy moaned and closed her eyes, getting lost in the feel of his soft lips as they traveled over her heated flesh, igniting fires in their wake.
"Don't seem t' be laughing now, pet," he observed, his breath adding another layer of shivery sensation to the mix.
Distantly, Buffy heard the song the Dingoes had been playing come to an end, and another begin, but she was too lost in the pleasure of Spike's lips to notice much about it until Spike whispered in her ear, "Dance with me?"
She blinked as he pulled back. In another blink he was standing, extending a hand toward her.
Buffy nodded, setting her drink down. She slipped her hand into Spike's as a warm fuzzy glow flared in her chest at the simple gesture. Yeah, she could open doors for herself and certainly stand up from a couch without help, but it was sweet to be treated with adoration like this. It was one thing she always remembered Spike doing for Dru, one thing Buffy had always been jealous of and wished for in her failed dates. And now, here Spike-the-gentleman was, showing those same kindnesses to her.
As he escorted her onto the dance floor, and as Buffy's brain began to clear from the fog Spike had induced, she recognized the slow song from their road trip. Spike had sung along to it on the radio when Buffy was pretending to be asleep. It was the music they'd sort of agreed would accompany their 'final dance', their dance of death. Fists and fangs, blood and dust.
'It'll be a brilliant dance, you and me, raging against the dying of the light.'
But that dance never happened.
Now it would be a dance of beginnings instead of endings.
Well, it's Saturday night
You're all dressed up in blue
I been watching you awhile
Maybe you been watching me too
"Is there something I should know? I thought this was going to be the theme music for our final dance," Buffy commented with a sly smile as Spike turned and pulled her into his embrace, one hand still clutched in hers, the other resting gently, and very properly, on her hip. He'd even left a respectable distance between their bodies.
So, somebody ran out
Left somebody's heart in a mess
Well, if you're looking for love
Honey, I'm tougher than the rest
Spike returned her smile. "Think that might be a good while, pet. Still holding you t' your promise, though. No one else gets the honor o' that last dance with you, my Slayer. It's mine."
The road is dark
And it's a thin, thin line
But I want you to know I'll walk it for you any time
Buffy snorted as she closed the distance between them, snuggling their clasped hands up against her shoulder as she settled her cheek against his chest, slipping her free hand around his waist as they swayed to the music.
"Is everything a dance to you?" she asked as they turned together in a slow, sensuous circle, her feet and body following his as if they had done this a million times.
Maybe your other boyfriends
Couldn't pass the test
Well, if you're rough and ready for love
Honey, I'm tougher than the rest
Even though the shirt he was wearing was new, it had already started to take on the unmistakable fragrance of 'Spike'. Smoke and alcohol, peppery spices, and the coppery undertone of blood—which might be zombie blood, but still. Buffy caught the perfume of some of her own hair products and soap on his skin, and it made her insides flutter with thoughts of one day mingling their scents in other, much more naughty ways.
"'Course it is. You don't think so?" he replied, his voice rumbling against her ear where it rested on his strong, hard chest.
She shrugged against him. "Depends. How long can you dance?" she teased, glancing up at him.
Well, it ain't no secret
I've been around a time or two
Well, I don't know, baby, maybe you've been around too
Spike's deep laugh sent delicious chills through her. "Long as you'll let me."
"All night?" she posited.
"Be a doodle t' dance all night."
"All night and all day?" she continued.
"No worries. Think you'll find I've got bloody brilliant staying power."
"A week?" she suggested.
"That a challenge, luv?"
Buffy looked up at him, her green eyes sparkling, her face flushed. "Aren't you up for it?"
A growl slipped from Spike's lips before he lowered his mouth to the curve where her shoulder and neck met, and bit down gently.
Danger warnings suddenly blared through Buffy's entire being, making her nerves sing, redoubling all the turbulent fires that ricocheted through her. She ignored all the 'fight or flight' instincts and instead tilted her head, giving him better access to her vulnerable neck. The sensation was extraordinary, utterly divine, as her body battled the disparate needs of pleasure and panic.
"Thought I told ya before, tougher than the rest. Can dance with you 'til all the stars blink out," he declared, sending more fevered sparks cascading down her body.
Well there's another dance
All you gotta do is say 'yes'
Her smile widened and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. "That works for me," she sighed as he pulled his exquisitely dangerous mouth away. He tilted his head to rest lovingly against hers as they continued the dance. How many times had she dreamed about slow, romantic dances with Spike over the months he'd been gone? And now, it was actually happening. It was everything she'd hoped for and more. The teasing, racy dances earlier had been fun—they were the 'war', this was the 'roses'. Buffy was starting to understand that she needed them both.
And if you're rough and ready for love
Honey, I'm tougher than the rest
Spike closed his eyes in pleasure, resting his cheek against her silken tresses. Buffy's soft, warm body moved with his like a dream, her hips following his as he moved them in a slow, seductive circle on the crowded dance floor. Her heart beat against his chest like a drum, making his own heart yearn to join it, her soft breath was like a summer's breeze slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt to caress his skin. She was magnificent, his Slayer. He wanted to give her the world. To lay the stars at her feet like a sparkling carpet. To pull the sun from the sky and present it to her as a trinket for her amusement. He wanted to make her happy beyond all else.
If you're rough enough for love
Baby, I'm tougher than the rest
"Happy, pet?" he asked, opening his eyes to look down at her.
Buffy beamed up at him, drinking him in. Willow was right, that shirt really did bring out his eyes, making the blue even bluer, like a bright, cloudless autumn sky.
Spike's world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments as his heart was bathed in sunbeams, blue skies, and rainbows. His mind whirled with pathetic prose that only his glorious Slayer could inspire. He smiled down at her, letting the disjointed rhymes flutter about like butterflies on wildflowers, filling his entire being with joy.
"The very-est," she answered with a contented sigh as she leaned back into him. "Best Hot Chocolate Day ever."
-X-
Chapter End Notes:
Thank you again! Hope you enjoyed it! More on Thursday.
Songs:
Los Del Rio - Macarena (Bayside Boys Remix)
NSYNC - Bye, Bye, Bye
Bruce Springsteen, Tougher Than the Rest