Buffy and the Scoobies sat in their usual corner of the Bronze, sipping their drinks and recounting the day's strange events, including Spike's visit to the Magic Shop and, as Xander put it, 'his lame attempt at pretending to be part of the gang'. Buffy squirmed uncomfortably in her seat; although she wouldn't say that Spike had become part of the group exactly, she had to admit that once he had begun helping them he had been consistent. He was at least as helpful as Cordelia had been, and sometimes more pleasant. And even when he was helping her in exchange for money, he still got the job done. Realizing that she was defending Spike, even if it was only in her head, she broke off her thoughts and turned to what Willow was saying.

"I guess tonight is open mike night." The red head nodded towards the stage being reset with only a lowered mike and a folding chair.

Buffy thought she saw a shadow cross her friends' face, and wondered if it had anything to do with how often Oz had played here with his band on open mike night, before the Dingos actually started getting booked. She mentally tucked that reaction away for later discussion and nodded agreeably at Willow's comment.

Xander took advantage of the break in music to take drink orders and go to the bar. Anya smiled adoringly at her departing boyfriend's backside, and Willow and Tara sat talking quietly together. Buffy's gaze wandered around the half-full night club, not really focusing on anyone until she noticed a man approaching the stage with an acoustic guitar cradled gently in his arms. The lighting was dim on the stage, and she couldn't really make out who he was from her vantage point. She let her attention slide away from the stage and refocus on Xander, who was standing in front of her, holding her drink out to her with an air of expectation.

"Helloooo....earth to Buffy? Thy drink is served?" She took the glass of diet soda and thanked him as he moved past her to take his seat next to Anya. Just as he was about to say something else, the lights went down even lower and the mystery musician began plucking chords in a low, mournful key. Whoever he was--now not only was the light too dim to discern the musician but Xander was blocking her view of the stage-- he was a good guitar player, plucking the chords with confidence and sustaining them perfectly.

"And you bring me to my knees

All this time that I could beg you please

All the times that I felt insecure

And I leave my burdens at the door"

The singer had a deep, rich baritone that seemed to waver with barely checked emotion. Buffy closed her eyes and hugged her knees, letting the music envelop her. It was an acoustic version of a song that had been playing on the radio a lot recently, one of her favorites, and this man did it absolute justice.

"I'm on the outside - I'm looking in

I can see through you - see your true colors

Cause inside you're ugly - ugly like me

I can see through you - see to the real you"

Suddenly, Buffy caught the faintest lilt of North London accent as the singer continued. She gasped and stood up, ignoring her startled friends and making her way over the edge of the stage. Looking up at the seated figure, she made eye contact with a certain peroxide blonde, blue-eyed vampire. He was wearing the usual black jeans and t-shirt ensemble, but had taken off his trademark black leather duster and seemed somehow more...vulnerable.

"All this time that I felt like this won't end - was for you

And I taste, but I could never have - it's from you

All those times that I tried - my intention full of pride

And I waste more time than anyone"

She briefly wondered what kind of game he was up to now. He nodded slightly at her, acknowledging her questioning stare, but returned his attention to the guitar. His skilled fingers flew over the strings during the bridge, and as he approached the part of the song which was sung with more angst than the rest, she could tell that he would not hold back in his own rendition.

He began belting out in a voice full of pain and frustration:

"All the times that I've cried - all this wasting - it's all inside

And I feel all this pain - stuffed it down - it's back again

And I lie here in bed all alone- I can't mend

And I fear tomorrow will be okay"

As he brought his voice back down to little more than a whisper for the last line, she realized she had been holding her breath. She met his eyes again and noticed they were red-rimmed, as if he were barely keeping his tears in check; startled, she realized tears had sprung to her own eyes. He finished the lyrics of the repeat chorus with emphasis on their meaning:

"I'm on the outside - I'm looking in

I can see through you - see your true colors

Cause inside you're ugly - you're ugly like me

I can see through you - see to the real you..."

He ended the song and the audience applauded with enthusiasm, although Spike pointedly ignored everyone else in the room except Buffy. Standing up, he held her gaze for another moment before turning away and melting into the shadows behind the stage. She almost expected him to pop out and ask what she thought about his performance, considering his normally cocky attitude. But he did not return, and finally she made her way back to her friends, who looked at her questioningly.

"Spike was singing." She stated incredulously, as if to explain why she had suddenly bolted to the edge of the stage.

Willow and Tara exchanged glances, and Xander snorted.

"You were listening. What's up with that, Buff?" Willow cocked her head at her friend.

Buffy met the suspicious gaze of each friend in turn, then shrugged.

"He's a good singer, is all. No big." She yawned to cover her confusion at her own reaction to Spike's performance. No way had she been...moved. She quickly excused herself and left the nightclub, much to the dismay of her worried friends. She had made it clear that she didn't want company, though, so they hoped she would be alright alone.

Outside, Buffy deeply inhaled the crisp, night air. When she caught the familiar scent of worn leather and cigarette smoke, she turned to find Spike leaning against the back wall of the building, legs crossed loosely and one hand stuck in his back pocket. He met her gaze expressionlessly, pulling another deep drag from the cigarette pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand.

She hadn't moved, wasn't sure if she should compliment his performance or simply turn and walk away. Suddenly, a question popped into her head and before she could reconsider, she asked,

"Why?"

Spike flicked the cigarette to the ground at his feet and ground it out under his boot. He pushed himself forward with one swift movement and was a foot away from her the next instant.

"Why what?" Now that was a loaded question, she thought nervously, reading the implications that were readily apparent in his expressive blue eyes.

"Why that song?" She clarified, not wanting to acknowledge those other, deeper questions.

He stared at her for a moment, then ducked his head.

"You didn't like it?"

Buffy examined his face, wondering if he was just fishing for compliments or if he was really serious. He seemed serious, so she answered him honestly.

"I did like it. You sang it as well as the original singer did, and that happens to be one of my favorite songs right now." She allowed her gaze to travel up to the sky, thinking about the lyrics for a moment. "I feel like I'm on the outside all the time."

Spike snorted, raising his head to meet her gaze again.

"You have no idea, luv. You may feel alone sometimes, but you have the Scoobies, your watcher, your mum and the Niblet. Somewhere deep down inside, you know that you're not alone, not really."

He paused, long, pale fingers sporting chipped black nail polish unconsciously tracing random patterns over where his heart would have been beating were he still human. Buffy watched his fingers moving of their own volition, got caught up in trying to guess what the next pattern would be. When he began singing softly, at almost a whisper, she was slightly startled.

"All the times that I've cried - all this wasting - it's all inside

And I feel all this pain - stuffed it down - it's back again

And I lie here in bed all alone - I can't mend

And I fear tomorrow will be okay...

I'm on the outside - I'm looking in

I can see through you - see your true colors

Cause inside you're ugly - you're ugly like me

I can see through you - see to the real you..."

As Spike sang, he circled her slowly, his lilting voice a sensual caress. As Spike finished the lyrics, he peered at her as if he really could see into her, into the real her... and all their conversations came back to her in a rush. How her power was of darkness, how she enjoyed violence and the hunt as much as he did, how passionate their sparring was. Spike wasn't just obsessed with The Slayer, he was obsessed with her... he identified with her. He understood that dark, ugly place within herself that she couldn't share with her friends or family, or even Angel, because Angel felt too much remorse and guilt about his own darkness. Spike saw the real Slayer, the essence of the ancient one and Buffy's own fire combining to create the most powerful slayer there had ever been. And still, he loved her.

It was too much to deal with. She couldn't be thinking about anything other than how to protect Dawn and put down Glory. She shook her head, as if to clear it, and brought her attention back to the blonde vampire in front of her.

"You have a beautiful voice," she offered lamely, spinning around and walking swiftly towards the cemetery. Perhaps killing some vampires before bed would tire her out enough so that she could go home and fall into a dreamless sleep.

Spike watched her sudden retreat sadly, singing under his breath softly,

"I can see through you - see to the real you..."

End

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