.

I am the Lord of the Dance Said He

.

.

At the Sunnydale Civic Auditorium, Buffy waited impatiently for the line to move forward. The line moved so slowly toward the single open ticket window, Buffy thought death-by-boredom was likely to occur before tickets could be purchased. Buffy decided to pass the time by going through the wallet found in Riley's pants pocket. For a brief moment, Buffy was distracted by what else could be touched through the pocket, but the sensation was too strange to continue exploring for long. The exploration also made Buffy realize the need to pee would soon become overwhelming, and Buffy wanted to ignore that need. Peeing meant leaving the line, which meant losing the spot in line, which meant possibly not getting tickets. Such an outcome was inconceivable.

If Buffy didn't get to go to Riverdance or see Michael Flatley... Buffy would die, most surely.

The line snaked closer. Around the corner of the auditorium and on the other side of a chain-link fence, Buffy could see the trailers for the dancers. The door to one trailer opened, and a man stepped out. Because the door opened into deep shadow, Buffy didn't have a very good view. There was an impression of dark, silky pants and a loose white shirt, deep, glossy black dance shoes, and the face of an angel, puffing away at a cigarette, before the man was hidden by the shadows.

Buffy stared longingly at the spot where the man stood. A dancer. An actual Riverdance dancer, right there just waiting to be spoken to. Perhaps waiting to hold hands. Or even – naughty mind – waiting for a kiss from a fan! Buffy blushed and fluttered in place, torn with indecision.

Tickets meant being in the audience, and getting to watch an entire night of dancing goodness.

But kissing a real Riverdance dancer – maybe even Michael Flatley? – would be so much better than being in the audience!

Buffy hummed a snatch of "Finnegan's Wake" and ate another handful of Lucky Charms (stupid oversized always hungry body!) while debating the best course of action.

The man called out, "Oi, hungry here, mate! Could do with spot of breakfast!"

Buffy knew that voice! Spike was a Riverdancer? Spike of killed-two-Slayers fame? Spike of pain-in-Buffy's-ass fame? The evil deeds of Spike's past were washed clean in Buffy's mind. Spike was a dancer. And Spike knew Buffy. Surely Spike would be as happy to see Buffy as Buffy was to see Spike. Right?

Spike, bored with waiting for food, executed a quick clogging routine followed by a cross-kick, a spin, a second kick, and a rapid-fire tap-tap-tap too fast for mortal eyes to follow.

Buffy's mind was made up. "Spike!" Buffy called, slipping through the gap in the fence and into the shadows. "Spike! Dance again, please!" Buffy said, eyes wide, heart racing with anticipation.

Wearing a nervous look, Spike backed up against the trailer, hands up. "Look, mate, don't know –" Spike got stuck on the pronoun and growled in frustration. "Bloody Hellmouth. Can't let a fellow speak normal." Spike edged away from Buffy-in-Riley, tugging the white shirtsleeve from Buffy's hand. "Bugger off, eh, and leave a man in peace. Not signing autographs today."

With a headshake, Buffy said, "Spike, it's Buffy. This body doesn't look like Buffy, but promise. Buffy."

Eyes narrowed, Spike scoffed, "Not bloody likely. Buffy wouldn't be so happy to see ol' Spike, for one thing. For two, can't prove such a claim."

Buffy sighed, and began to count off points on fingers. "Nice work, love. St. Vigorous. Ruined doilies. Halloween costume became real. Order of Taraka – lame, by the way." Buffy switched to the other hand. "Kidnapped Angel for blood to heal Dru. Rather be fighting – mutual. Church organ. Um... Happy meals on legs! Dru in exchange for Giles." Buffy leaned closer to look Spike in the eyes. With Buffy's new body, looking into Spike's eyes meant looking down. Weird. "Want help because girlfriend's a big ho. Sod it, friends are in the factory." Arms crossed triumphantly, Buffy leaned back and said, "Ringing any bells?"

"Not convinced yet. The Slayer still wouldn't be happy to see an arch-nemesis in town," Spike countered.

Buffy reached for Spike's sleeve once more. "But Spike's in town to dance. To Riverdance," Buffy said with starry eyes. "How? Why?" Buffy added, coyly, "Can Buffy have Spike's autograph?"

"Bloke's sodding insane," Spike muttered, easing the other way. Buffy followed, and Spike sighed. "Look, the story of how Spike came to be here is a sordid tale all around, not fit for tender ears. Push off. Let a fellow have some space before being forced to dance for the crowds, eh?"

Buffy gasped. "Forced?"

"What, thought dancing was a career change? The Slayer of Slayers chose to become Vampire Clogger Extraordinaire for a lark – and not even as the star, but as understudy for that Flatley ass? Not a chance in hell. Was sold into slavery by Dru as punishment for going soft," Spike said, lip curled in disgust. "Unbreakable contract."

"But why would Dru consider Riverdance a punishment?" Buffy said. "Riverdance is wonderful."

"Says the giant walking asparagus," Spike said, eyeing Buffy's greenery. "Look mate, tried to be nice, but..." Spike shifted into gameface and attacked. Buffy, unimpressed, didn't move, and Spike screamed and dropped to the ground, panting.

"Ow! Bloody, buggering..."

Buffy dropped to the ground too, and put a worried hand on Spike's arm. "Okay now?"

"Non-aggression clause," Spike gasped. "No hurting the fans."

Buffy stroked Spike's head, fingers tangling in curls, and hoped Spike would be okay to dance soon. When Spike seemed to have recovered, Buffy, still not comprehending, said, "But how can Riverdancing be a punishment?"

Eyes distant with unseen horrors, Spike shuddered under Buffy's hand. "Riverdance is torture of the worst sort."

Buffy petted Spike a moment longer, then leaned in and in all seriousness asked, "Does Spike like The Irish Rovers?"

.

.

A/N: I sort of thought everybody knew the Irish Rovers and their rendition of "Lord of the Dance" (if I could, I'd add a YouTube link for you, but you'll just have to look it up yourself).

Turns out they're a Canadian thing. Who knew? Guess my roots are showing. :)