It took her a minute to snap out of it and dash after him, unwilling to be left alone in the club. His double zeroes had almost disappeared amongst the bright splashes of paint that was the other clubbers, his shoulders brushing against them gently as he moved in a way that reminded her of a wolf greeting its pack. Some of them ducked their heads and bowed out of his way, some called a greeting or nodded to him solemnly, others just studiously ignored him, but all in all it felt like following a prince into the dark. When she finally pushed her way through the crowd and fell in at his side there was the smallest of grins dancing at the corner of his mouth, even though her presence seemed to ward off any further approaches by the others. Like she'd said, dampening spell or not she was still the Slayer, and whether it was her day off or theirs, they were still keeping their distance.

Rounding the corner of the balcony Spike led her to one of a row of little square tables, pulling out a high-backed stool for her which she slipped onto nervously after a second's hesitation. She didn't like the way she felt with him standing behind her; hyper-alert, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing straight up. Knocking on the table twice with his knuckles, he offered her a quick smile and then left her, shouldering his way over to the bar that ran the length of the gallery. She felt almost detached from what was happening around her, like she wasn't herself, and she wondered if it was because she wasn't hating this as much as she thought she would. And that was bad.

Buffy glared hard at Spike's retreating form, trying to figure him out from the set of his shoulders, the way his hips shifted as he moved… Her gaze dropped to the curve of his butt as he leaned forward against the long wooden counter, the thin strip of pale skin at the small of his back where his t-shirt had risen up, and she felt her cheeks flare violently. Turning away, she kept her eyes firmly on the dance floor below, watching a myriad of forms twist and jump and writhe against each other in a horrific, beautiful display of seemingly impossible kinetics set to a surprisingly modern soundtrack. When she felt him come back, felt him sit down across from her on the other side of the table it took a minute before she felt brave enough to face him again.

Spinning slowly on her stool, she found that he'd lined up three tall shot glasses in front of her, keeping three for himself. She wasn't sure what was in them but she was willing to put good money down that it wasn't regular alcohol; it looked like milk that had been dyed blue, opaque and bright, glowing radioactively beneath the black lights that cast an eerie purple-white glimmer over the entire club. Buffy arched an eyebrow at the little glasses, watched Spike's pale, slim fingers dance around the rims delicately as though he were trying to play a tune until he picked the first one up, his elbow resting on the table.

"What is that?" she asked, rightfully concerned.

"Not really sure," he replied, contemplating the contents of the glass. "But it's good. You'll like it."

"How do you know?" she asked, her mouth twisting with doubt and annoyance.

"Know you better than you think Slayer," he answered back, confidently if a little disheartened, his smile slipping.

Frowning, somehow uncomfortable with having put the tiniest of frowns onto his mouth, she picked up the first of her glasses and peered into it before cocking her eyebrow at him.

"Cheers luv," he grinned, bringing his glass forward, and after just a second's hesitancy she joined him, clinking the little shots together in a toast before tossing them back.

And wow.

That. Was amazing.

It exploded on her tongue like fireworks, light, fruity, bursting with champagne bubbles that went straight to her head. The world seemed to open up around her as all her senses sharpened, clearing away the fuzziness that had seemed to follow her since the dampening spell had taken hold. She could hear, smell, see like she was at the top of her game, could feel it buzzing in her finger tips and taste it, popping and sweet in her mouth. Across the table she could see Spike's pupils blow wide, giving him a reckless and wild look that was like electricity down her spine.

Made her wonder if she looked the same to him.

"Holy cow!" she breathed. "That's awesome!"

Spike grinned, curling his tongue behind his teeth in a way that just screamed I told you so. Buffy's eyes widened in surprise and a laugh came bubbling up out of her before she could get a hand over her mouth, uncontrolled.

"Your tongue is blue!" she yelped with delight. "Like, glow in the dark blue!"

He, surprisingly enough, didn't take offense to her teasing and instead chuffed a laugh that was practically a giggle in its own right, and then she really wondered what was in the stuff if it was hitting him so hard. "What are these?"

"Told you, dunno," he said, picking up his second shot. " 'S called Throttle."

"Throttle?" she dead-panned. "That's grossly man-ish."

"You telling me nothin's ever got your motor revvin'?" the vampire purred.

Buffy felt a blush stain her cheeks, felt something electric zip around her nerves as she watched him curl his tongue a second time between strong, white teeth, the edges of his canines just a little sharper than they were before. Blaming it on the little blue drink, she still picked up the second and muttered back stubbornly.

"Nothing wrong with enjoying your work."

"And I'll drink to that," he grinned, clinking his second glass to hers. "To a good rough-n-tumble."

Buffy wrinkled her nose but drank anyway, sipping the blue stuff from the rim this time instead of tossing it to the back of her throat. It tasted even better this time around, what with her already heightened senses, and the little shot, hardly a mouthful, went straight to her head. She felt light, dizzy for only a second before it passed, her whole body thrumming now. She wanted to get up, wanted to move, to fight or to dance, and then she remembered; with Spike, the two were practically one in the same.

The thought crossed her mind that he might be drugging her; roofies or some other weird thing that might be served here in order to stack the deck in his favor, but she thought that his weird sense of slayer-of-slayers honor would definitely cut that probability.

Still, she really shouldn't be drinking this stuff. It was obviously pretty strong, and had an effect that didn't come from something as innocuous as alcohol.

Buffy shrugged.

"One more."

Spike huffed a little chuckle. "Drink to that too I 'spose," he said.

Buffy knew what he meant but chose to misinterpret. "You're a vampire," she replied flippantly. "You always want one more." Still, this time she was the first to lift her drink to his, the chiming clink of glass on glass a crisp and lovely sound in her hyper-sensitive ears.

That last shot had the blood singing in her veins, and as soon as it was gone she jumped to her feet, unable to sit still any longer. Apparently Spike felt the same because he was up right behind her, reaching out and grabbing her wrist lightly, pulling her toward a flight of stairs that led down to the dance floor below. She thought briefly of wrenching out of his grip, but he'd tossed an impish grin at her over his shoulder and curiosity bit at her, his fingers cool and strong against her skin and yet somehow still gentle, caressing. Buffy could feel her heart pounding in her chest, could feel her pulse hammering and she wondered if he could feel it too. If the Throttle was affecting him half as much as it had her, she didn't doubt that he could. God, it was incredible, it was...

"Buffy?"

Buffy blinked, found herself at the top of the stairs with her arms hanging palms out at her sides, her head tipped back and her eyes closed as she breathed in the air of the club, felt the music vibrate up through the soles of her feet. Spike was waiting halfway down the stairs, looking up at her curiously, waiting, and because it felt a little too Cinderella for her she shook off the uber-connection tinglies she had going on and jumped lightly down the steps to meet him. He led her the rest of the way down and she showed a hard, predatory grin as she moved for the dance floor, ready to rock it for all she was worth as the music cranked high and her body began to move in time to the rhythm.

Safe then to say that she was disappointed when a strong, muscled forearm slipped around her waist and scooped her up, spinning her in a short half-arc, turning her to face another stairwell at the back of the dance floor.

"Like your enthusiasm pet," Spike's voice rumbled silkily in her ear as he deposited her back on her feet. "But you look ready to eat those saps alive. Let's try somethin' else first yeah? We've got all night."

She felt too close to him then, with his arm still snug beneath her ribs, his face in the crook of her neck, and his breath hot on her throat. She abruptly flashed back to a spell-induced engagement, cuddling in each other's laps while strong teeth nipped firmly and dark, murmured desires sent heat flushing through her veins. But it had been more than that; he had been more than that. He'd been protective, and concerned, and helpful, and… why was she thinking about this?! Willow'd ended the spell and they'd all gone on with their lives like it had never happened, like they hadn't come out of it with lips locked and lingered just a little too long before jumping off of each other and yipping their disgust.

She almost protested in her effort to shake the odd sense of non-loathing she had going on, almost snapped at him to get his hands off her and put her down, but it was over so fast that she didn't even have the time. Spike had turned around again and was backing slowly away from her, his eyes flashing gold in the dark as he disappeared into the shadows of the stairwell. She hadn't missed the smirk that sparked sharply at the edges of his mouth and she wondered briefly why she was always so aware of it; of the smooth, full curve of his lower lip, the way he curled his tongue behind his teeth when he was thinking dirty thoughts, or the way adrenaline spiked in her blood when his canines lengthened and sharped just a little bit. She remembered the way that mouth felt on hers, the way it tasted, and just knowing that she still remembered gave her a headache.

'You coming?'

She thought she must have heard the words but it felt more like she'd touched them, like walking through fog, damp and cool on her skin. Shrugging it off, telling herself that it was all just the buzz of the Throttle, that she was hyper-sensitive to his touch because of the three little blue shots, she stepped down into the dark after him.