Spike stood there on the steps facing the front door, astonishment and confusion etched plainly on his face. Buffy, or more likely Willow, had recast the Un-invite spell. She had never revoked the invitation during their unlikely (and often unfriendly) truce, but now that he had revealed his feelings for her he was no longer allowed entrance into the Summers’ home. As his surprise gave way to pain, he turned around quickly to hide the blood tears that were welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill down the angular planes of his human visage. Not that Buffy would be watching him anyway, he thought bitterly. She had obviously dismissed him when she slammed the door in his face. Angrily swiping at his eyes, he strode quickly down the walk away from her house. He made his way down the street, stomping with a fluid grace only a vampire could manage. His black leather duster swirled heavily around his calves as the laces of his Doc Martens whipped the leather in time with his angry footsteps. He didn’t bother looking back; he had had enough rejection for one night...one lifetime, at that.

As he wandered the streets of Sunnydale his anger and frustration built up inside of him, creating a frenetic energy that demanded to be released. He pulled his game face and began searching for another demonic being to take his rage out on, since feeding was out of the question with the implant still intact. Tonight must have been a slow night for Evil-Doing, because he came up empty-handed. Soon the steady thrum of music coming from The Bronze--still three blocks away--called to him like a heart beat. He had always been drawn to music, especially music with a pounding bass and angry lyrics. He entered the night club and although the noise was almost deafening he recognized the song coming from the oversized speakers placed strategically around the dance floor. The heavy beat that had pulled him there vibrated up through the floor and into the soles of his boots; if his heart had been capable of beating, he was sure it would have been in time to the music. As the song ended it was replaced by the same band’s current single. Spike made his way to the dance floor to lose himself among the moshing, thronging bodies, among the heavy scent of sweat, desire and oblivion.

The song began slowly, as if the lyrics were meant to address someone specific.

"Special, you think you’re special, you do.

I can see it in your eyes.

I can see it when you laugh at me

Look down on me and,

you walk around on me."

Immediately, as Spike was sort of just swaying to the music at this point and not really dancing, Buffy’s face came to mind in conjunction with the lyrics. The singer had captured Buffy’s attitude towards him: acting like she was so much better than he was, denying he could have feelings for her and basically stomping on his heart.

"Just one more fight about your leadership..."

Well they’d had enough of those, Buffy pulling rank on him time and again. Bloody hell, he thought he’d proven that he was willing to fight by her side now without compunction.

"...and I will straight up leave your shit, cause I’ve had enough of this

and now I’m pissed!"

He was pissed, anyway, although he knew in his heart that as much as he wanted to walk away and never look back that he couldn’t.

Suddenly, as the tempo broke and the chorus began, he joined the crowd as they bobbed up and down, waving a fist in time to the music and swinging his head back and forth.

"this time I’m a let it all come out

this time I’m a stand up and shout

I’m a do things my way, it’s my way,

my way or the highway

someday you’ll see things my way,

cause you never know, so ya never know when you’re gonna go

someday you’ll see things my way,

cause you never know, no ya never know when you’re gonna go..."

Spike felt like this song could be his anthem; at least it could have been before he became a soddin’ poofter like his nancyboy sire. It should have been his way or the highway. After all, life was short, at least for humans and especially for slayers; Buffy should know that better than anyone. She shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss another chance at true love, even if it was with another vampire.

"Just one more fight and I’ll be history

yes I will straight up leave your shit

and you’ll be the one who’s left missing me!"

He wondered as he kept time to the beat whether she would miss him if he just left. Of course, the chip might keep him from leaving since originally it had been programmed to implode if he left a certain radius around The Initiative’s underground base. But since The Initiative had been disbanded, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore, although he wasn’t keen on trying out any theories that involved the possibility of his head imploding. There are some things even vampires can’t recover from.

The song ended and another came on, one Spike was very familiar with; it was the kind of heavy metal he often listened to and this particular song had morbidly amusing lyrics. As he joined the crowd moshing to Rob Zombie’s "Dragula", he was relieved to discover that there was no way he could relate this song to his situation with Buffy. With Dru, maybe, but he wasn’t even ready to think about her yet. Becoming one with the jostling, pulsating bodies around him, he forgot the Slayer for a few blissful moments, revelling in the close human contact. He continued dancing, through song after song, until his vampiric senses told him dawn was rapidly approaching. He left The Bronze regretfully and returned to his crypt, to attempt sleep and brood about Buffy’s latest rejection. He was becoming as bad as Angel.

End