I'd like to take a minute to thank everyone who continues to read and review, and to all of you who keep asking for more! I love knowing that you guys look forward to updates so much! I know that as I start my dissertation they've become few and far between, so again, thanks for hanging in there. I'll do my best to keep up.
Again, I do not own Buffy. Any original characters, places, plots, or quotes belong to Joss Whedon and Co.
Friday came far too soon for Buffy, and the closer it got, the more anxious she became. She still hadn't seen or heard from the vampire in question, not since the note, and a thousand possibilities of what might come had begun to run through her mind, making her feel unsettled and worried. The Scoobies had made mention of her distraction a few different times but she had brushed them off easily enough, and she'd even experienced some small good fortune – her mother would be away on business that weekend, which meant she wouldn't be facing the third degree before or after this fiasco.
She was going to get away with it.
Oh, how wrong she was.
Nine o'clock found her on the couch in her sweats, trying to lounge in front of some old cartoons, but she couldn't stop herself from glancing at the clock every five minutes or so. As the time ticked away, closer and closer to ten she began to bite her fingernails and shift nervously, distracted from the television. She briefly considered going out on a patrol, sure that she could swing a route that would allow her to avoid Spike, both in the cemeteries and at home if she left now. It seemed the best solution to getting rid of her nervous butterflies, so she climbed to her feet and headed for the stairs, intent on a change of clothes. She hadn't even hit the first riser when she was caught.
"Oh. My God."
Dawn stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at Buffy with an expression of horrified disbelief, her hands on her hips.
"How have you not started getting ready yet?"
Buffy's eyes went wide with horror and she gulped. "You know?" she asked miserably. "How do you know?!" A jolt went through her and she narrowed her eyes. "What did he tell you?"
"Oh relax Buffy," Dawn replied, rolling her eyes and crossing her fingers behind her back where her sister couldn't see. "He just asked me what night you were free. Now seriously, you've got less than an hour before he picks you up and it'll take you twice that long to get ready, so chop chop!"
Buffy frowned as she trudged slowly up the stairs. "Listen Dawn, I don't know what Spike told you but this isn't… this isn't a date, ok? We're just… patrolling! Yeah, we're gonna go check out another vamp nest he found."
"Yeah, uh-huh," Dawn countered smugly, folding her arms as she followed Buffy into her bedroom.
It was obvious that the teenager didn't believe her, and Buffy didn't have the energy or the inclination to keep up the charade. It had been half-hearted anyway; she never thought that she could convince Dawn there was nothing suspicious about this whole thing. Especially if Spike had talked to her, which was sounding like a distinct possibility. Dropping down on the stool in front of her vanity, Buffy took quick stock of her appearance. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks just a tiny bit flush, and she couldn't decide if it was a look of fear or excitement.
She thought that perhaps it was both.
She was slowly coming to realize that she didn't know Spike as well as she thought she did. She certainly didn't know this thing that was going on between them. However, if there was one thing she did know after these past few years, after coming to accept her role and her life as the Slayer, it was herself. Spike being an unknown variable made him dangerous, made a fight almost inevitable.
And for Buffy, the fight was the thing.
Fighting, slaying, a good battle, those things were exciting for her. She enjoyed what she did, the rush, the combat, the burning adrenaline. She never backed down, not from anything, and she took a certain pride in that. It was who she was, strong, brave, ready to stand toe to toe with anyone and anything. And that included Spike.
Buffy gave the mirror her best war face and picked up her hairbrush.
"Ok, so I'm thinking you've got three options," Dawn called from deep in the closet, her voice muffled. "Option one: little black dress." Said garment came flying out to land on the bed. "Classic, though somewhat clichéd. Option two: leather pants and a halter top. Says 'I'm dangerous and that's sexy.' Think Faith, but less psychotic." These items too came flying out to land on the foot of the mattress. "And finally, option three." Dawn finally emerged, climbing over a mountain of shoes and discarded clothes with two pieces in her hands. "Lacy skirt and an off the shoulder top. Green silk, paired with flats and a jean jacket. A little soft for you, but seriously cute, and this color looks great with your hair."
Buffy stared at her sister in the mirror, totally dumbfounded, her hands frozen in her hair as she pulled it into a rough ponytail. What the hell had Spike told her?! "Dawn," she said firmly, "I am not dressing up for this, ok? No dresses, no makeup…" Turning back to the mirror, she frowned. "I shouldn't be going at all," she muttered under her breath.
"Seriously" Dawn asked in amazement, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. "All I know is that if a hot guy was taking me out on a date, I'd be putting a little more effort into it. I mean, do you want Spike to think you're a total slob?"
"If it gets him to leave me alone," Buffy mumbled. "And it's not some hot guy!" She cast Dawn her most intimidating glare. "It's… Spike." She shuddered her shoulders for emphasis.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Right. And he's real hard on the eyes. Remind me, why are you going out with him again?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed one knee over the other, watching her sister in the mirror. She abruptly dropped her light and playful tone, sadness leaching into the set of her shoulders. "He really likes you Buffy," she said softly. "Are you… I mean… you're not just doing this to hurt his feelings, are you?"
"Spike is evil Dawn," Buffy said firmly as she slicked on a light coating of lip gloss, trying to drive the point home. "He doesn't feel things like you and me do." Despite her adamancy that she wouldn't be taking any extra steps to dress up, she traced on a tiny amount of eyeliner.
"That's such crap," Dawn scoffed. "Why would he stay with Drusilla for one hundred years if he didn't love her? I mean, no one could stand her for that long if they weren't seriously committed. And for that matter, why has he hung around you for so long if he doesn't like you?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Buffy snapped, climbing from her stool to face her sister as she quickly shucked her sweats and pulled on a pair of dark blue denim jeans.
"Face it Buffy," she replied with a grim twist of her mouth, "When it comes to Spike, you're a total bitch. If I were him, I wouldn't put up with half the crap he does."
Buffy's head popped out of the long-sleeved shirt she tugged on, a striped navy-and-grey number in soft cotton that she rarely wore. "What crap Dawn?" she demanded. "It's not like I go around threatening to stake the guy anymore. And I only hit him when he deserves it. Jeez! I can't believe you're on my case about this. This is William the Bloody, remember? The only reason he's not killing all of us is the chip!"
Dawn jumped to her feet and crossed her arms. "You know, you're so big on him only being good because he's got the chip now, but that's not stopping him from burning down our house, or cutting Xander's brakes, or hiring a bunch of demons to gang up and beat the crap out of you! And it certainly doesn't stop him from just getting the heck out of dodge and finding a girlfriend who actually likes him back. Or even just tolerates him better than you."
"Oh my God," Buffy murmured, and for a minute Dawn thought she might have gotten through to her sister, but her next sentence belied that hope. "You've… you've actually been thinking about this! Should I be worried about you?"
"The point," Dawn stated, "Is that the chip stops him from directly hurting you. Everything else is his choice. So why does he choose to stay and help when you choose to treat him like trash? Which, I might add, he is not!"
Buffy opened her mouth to defend herself, but at that moment, a light knock sounded at the door and Dawn leapt from the bed, a huge smile on her face, her mood flipping like a light switch. "He's here!" she squealed, bouncing out of the room. "I'll go let him in," she called over her shoulder. "Hurry up!"
Dawn bounded down the stairs with a spring in her step, a grin plastered over her face. Her sister might be doing this for all the wrong reasons, might be in total denial even, but she was doing it, and that was a start. Dawn didn't doubt Spike for a minute; if Buffy gave him this one inch, he would work it for all it was worth until he got a mile. And of course, if there was anything more she could do to help, she'd be more than happy to do whatever she could. Executing a quick little happy dance in the foyer, she grabbed the door and pulled it open with a flourish.
Huh.
Well, it didn't look like he had taken all that much of her advice.
Spike stepped through the door with hesitancy, dressed in his usual outfit of black on black on black. She'd warned him that Buffy would prefer a little color, but here he was in his duster and his combat boots, his hair slicked back against his head, just like always. In his hand he carried a single flower, a pink rose. She'd explicitly told him not to bring roses – her sister thought them clichéd, and well, after the Angelus fiasco…
She caught him staring up the stairs before he turned back to her.
"Spike?" she began cautiously, not wanting to hurt his feelings or make him more nervous than he already was, "A rose?"
Not a good start.
Spike grinned at the nervousness in the teenager's stance. He knew what was causing her anxiety; certainly to her it must appear that her advice had gone in one of his ears and right back out the other. In truth their hour spent parked at the drive-through ice cream place halfway between the Hellmouth and the house on Revello Drive had proved quite enlightening for the vampire. He'd gotten a few good tips and some general information that had really kicked off his plans for tonight, but most importantly, he'd caught the slip that Dawn had made around bites of a super-sized banana split.
The Slayer talked about him.
A lot.
He wasn't stupid, he was sure that most of it was bitching and moaning, but he was there, in the conversation, in the back of her mind, and that was enough to put a smile on his face. He looked up the staircase towards the landing where he could hear Buffy moving around, her heart beating just a little too fast, and he grinned. He was here too. Right here, right now, waiting for her. In just minutes, she would come down that stairwell, and it would be him waiting.
"Spike?"
Dawn spoke his name cautiously, and he turned to her, eager to allay any fears she might have, but he needn't have worried. Her concern was for him.
"A rose?"
Spike grinned. "For you little Bit," he said, tossing her a wink.
She'd advised him towards orchids, explaining that her sister had a passion for the colorful flowers that were so hard to grow on the Hellmouth because of the salt-laden breeze coming in from the coast. She'd somehow managed to name her own favorite at the same time, and the way her eyes lit up as she took the flower from him was well worth the four quid it had cost him for the long-stemmed bloom.
"Wanted to thank you for your help."
Dawn smiled, stroking the velvet outer petals with a fingertip. Then she looked up at him and her smile changed to a frown. "But… I mean, you didn't…"
"Took every word to heart luv," he reassured her, laying an open palm over his chest. "But with your sister, think sometimes you gotta read between the lines." Turning around, his gaze moved back up the stairs and he instinctively widened his stance, his duster swaying around his ankles as he cocked back his shoulders. He didn't know that he did it, didn't realize that he shifted into a defensive stance, a fighting stance whenever he thought about her. "She thinks she knows exactly what she wants," he murmured. "The whole normal-girl routine." He chuckled under his breath. "Like she tried with Captain Cardboard," He turned back to Dawn and gave her a wicked smile.
"Figured if I wanna impress the Slayer, I'm gonna have to show her that she doesn't have a clue what she wants."
"Spike."
His own name fell on his ears hard and cold and he turned on his heel sharply to find said Slayer at the top of the stairs, looking down with a totally unreadable expression. She was dressed down in jeans and a striped, long-sleeved tee, her hair up in a tail and her make-up light, but it didn't faze him. He had hardly expected her to dress up, and in the end it didn't matter. She was beautiful, and she was walking down the stairs to him.
All he could do was stare.