It wasn’t where she’d expected to end up when she decided to take off for a few hours after her Sadie Hawkins episode with Angel. She was bothered, depressed, pissed, and really didn’t feel like being around her ‘everything will be okay as long as we have sarcasm’ friends and ‘let’s consider the consequences’ watcher. She knew they meant well, but she needed quiet. She needed a place where work wouldn’t follow her home. She needed a release, even if only for a few hours, she needed a way to escape and shake off what had happened without completely imploding.
And so this is where she found herself, in a small, quiet bar on the outskirts of town. Lucky for her, the bartender didn’t seem to care whether she was of age or not. She sat down and the petite but no-nonsense-looking lady slid a whisky ginger in front of her, “This one’s on the house, honey,” winking and walking away when Buffy looked up at her appreciatively. She took a sip and nodded her approval when she realized she actually liked it.
The small bar was dark, illuminated by only a few neon signs and was filled with a haze of cigarette smoke. Buffy didn’t care, as long as the drink in front of her was always at least half full and cold.
Closing her eyes for a moment, Buffy remembered back to what it felt like to have Angels lips on hers again, after so long, after everything he’d done, kissing him still felt right and that scared her. She still leaned into his touch and found herself standing on her tippy toes to get as close as she could. In one instant everything felt so perfect and right, and the next he was snarling and throwing her backwards with such rage. A violent reminder of how things had turned out between them.
Opening her eyes again she grabbed her glass, put it to her mouth and tipped it back, pouring its contents entirely into her mouth and letting the empty glass hit the bar with a light thud.
Spike had been so aggravated to see Dru leave with that poufter again, as she did every night since he’d come back to them, that after he’d kicked his wheelchair over he couldn’t stay in the old mansion any longer. Every other night he’d pace the floors, throwing things or screaming at the walls to vent his rage, but tonight he couldn’t. He needed to get out. Sod it if they come back and find him gone. He really didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t wait around just to see her come back wrapped around his arm smiling, then sneaking off to a nearby room to be fucked senseless by someone she called ‘daddy.’
He was disgusted by all of it, and quite frankly heartbroken that he’d taken care of her, doted over her for so long just to have her leave him in a wheelchair, bringing him nothing more than puppies and vermin to eat when she returned after being gone for hours. Bitch didn’t care for him at all. He’d been a ponce to think she would.
He’d walked, the stretching of his legs feeling good after being on his arse for so long. He’d walked a ways down the road from the god forsaken mansion until he saw the first real bar he could find. Didn’t even care that it wasn’t a demon bar, all he wanted to do was get completely sloshed. He’d worry about food later. Right now all he wanted to ingest was a large bottle of some good whiskey.
Buffy felt him as soon as he walked into the bar, but didn’t even bother turning to look at him or even make him aware of her presence. She wished she could say she was surprised that he was well enough to be up and about let alone alive, well undead, but then again not a lot surprised her these days, especially from that particular crew. If Spike could nurse Drusilla back to health by using blood from her sire, surely Drusilla would use her blood to nurse Spike back to health. She started to wonder why Giles and the scoobies wouldn’t have made sure to be prepared for such an event, and then quickly dismissed it, not really caring. Tonight she could care less what Spike did, and unless he started killing people right here, right now, she wouldn’t even worry about him.
She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, honing in on her slayer senses while she still could, considering she’d already finished a second drink and ordered a third. She could feel Spike move into the corner and slip into a booth that was hidden in the shadows. He wasn’t here to kill. There was nothing menacing about him at the moment, and that was enough to ease any worries she might have had. Instead she took another long sip from her glass and let her mind wander to the mellow beats coming from the jukebox.
He’d seen her the moment he stepped foot into the smoke filled bar, white-blonde hair standing out like a sore thumb in the dark space. For a moment he froze, unsure of whether or not he should back out and find a different bar, but when he felt her heart rate increase for a split second then slow again he felt she wasn’t in a slaying mood at the moment, much to his benefit. And if she was, well, in his state he didn’t really stand a chance anyway so it wouldn’t have mattered.
Quietly he slipped into a booth in the darkest corner of the bar, and happily ordered a whisky on the rocks when the waitress walked over to him. He relaxed, loving every moment he was out of the mansion but keeping an eye on the slayer at the same time. He didn’t want any surprises. He took a minute to take in her demeanor, and remembered back to what Angel had said before taking off earlier. Angel had been shaken up by what had happened between them, so it was no surprise that his slayer had been too, and she was clearly looking for a way to forget it, and fast.
The waitress returned to Spike and set his glass of ice down on the table, unplugging the whiskey bottle and setting it next to Spike as he’d asked. He handed her money, and when she walked away he went back to studying his slayer. She looked so small and fragile in a place like this. It wasn’t like her. Spike didn’t even know that much about her and he knew this was out of character for her. It worried him a little, then he shook it off, telling himself he didn’t care.
Pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey, he held it under his nose, taking in the aroma and feeling comforted by it, and took a large gulp.
Buffy’s skin was warm and buzzing, and she couldn’t remember exactly how many drinks she'd had, but she felt better and a small smile made its way to her lips. So what if she and Angel had a brief moment together again, she was still going to kill his ass dead to show him how mad she was, and she was satisfied with herself at that.
She looked down at her remaining change that was sitting on the bar next to her empty glass and contemplated whether she wanted another drink, or if she wanted to buy a song on the jukebox. She really wanted to hear a song that she knew and liked, but if she put a dollar in the box then she wouldn’t have enough for another drink and a tip.
As if someone had been reading her mind, the bartender set down another drink and pointed to the dark corner. “Gentleman in the corner sent this one over.”
Buffy smirked and took the drink, knowing exactly who it was from, and turned slightly on her stool so that he could see her face but so that she was not looking directly toward him, and took a long sip. Setting the glass back down she picked up a dollar off the bar and sauntered over to the jukebox which was only about five feet away from where Spike was currently sitting. Amongst the liquor and cigarette smoke Buffy could smell the leather from his old worn jacket, and she smiled to herself.
He didn’t know why but he’d watched her as she sat at that bar. She seemed so different tonight. Gone was the fiery little teenage girl who continuously kicked his arse, all that was left was an empty shell of a person. He could only imagine what Angelus could have done to ruin such a perfect girl, and although he was grateful that he wasn’t already a pile of dust because of her, he liked seeing spitfire Buffy better.
It was while he was watching her that he realized she hadn’t had another drink in a while and that she was studying the dollar bills she had laying on the wood in front of her. And then he noticed her glance at the jukebox and it hit him. She couldn’t make up her mind. Before she had time to make the decision herself, and before he really stopped to think about what he was doing, he waved the waitress over and ordered her next drink for her.
He was pleased when he saw the faint smile and turn of her body as she sipped her new drink. He’d done good, and it made him feel all manly and proud. He wasn’t quite sure what it was about her tonight, but he had absolutely no desire to hurt her. No, he wanted to do the exact opposite actually, and maybe it was just because he’d already had a third of a bottle of straight Jack and it had been months since he’d gotten any, but Buffy Summers, the slayer, was looking pretty damn hot right now.
His unnecessary breath caught in his throat for a moment when she got up and began to come toward him, and he calmed once he realized it wasn’t him she was headed for, but the jukebox. Once she was close enough he could smell her perfume, her hair, and the whisky on her breath. It sounded lame in his head, but he was both excited and proud when he realized what she was drinking was very similar to what he was drinking. She had good taste.
She came to a stop in front of the music machine and Spike tilted his head to really look at her. He had noticed her beauty before, of course, he wasn’t blind, but looking at her now he couldn’t believe that this petite blonde cutie was really the same girl that foiled his every plan, and usually with a witty pun too. She was like no other he had ever met before, and the more he thought on it, the more he realized he really liked her.
Buffy inserted the dollar bill and flipped through her possibilities, fully aware that Spike was studying her the whole time. She didn’t care. She didn’t exactly see him as an enemy right now, what with him buying her more alcohol and aiding her in making her night just a little better. And besides, she was fully aware that he was checking her out and what girl doesn’t like a little appraisal every now and then? Even if it is from your mortal enemy.
She finally chose a song and pressed play, a small smile forming on her face once again at her satisfaction. It was when the song started that she dared to look straight over at Spike, making eye contact for a brief moment before walking out to the center of the empty dance floor and moving her head and hips to the rhythm.
When the song filled the air and Buffy’s eyes locked with his, Spike could have sworn he felt an electrical charge go through him. She was enjoying this.
Spike smirked and finished his fourth glass of whisky, leaning back and watching her move as she began to dance.
You say you want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down
Its only right that you should
Play the way you feel it
It wasn’t long before Buffy found that she was dancing for him. Hell, if she’d stop trying to lie to herself she’d realize she was doing it on purpose, hoping he would enjoy it and get turned on. The alcohol in her system had her on fire and all of a sudden she wanted all too badly to be touched.
Of your loneliness
Like a heartbeat drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost
Spike clenched his jaw as he watched the golden beauty begin to move and twist and writhe to the haunting beat of the song. She was facing him fully, and when he took a brief moment to look around him to see who else might have been around he saw that there was no one else. Only a few people across the way and they seemingly hadn’t even noticed her.
He turned his focus back on her and hooked one thumb through his belt loop as he leaned back and enjoyed the slayers little show.
Players only love you when they’re playing
Say women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean you’ll know
You’ll know
Buffy didn’t even care that she was purposely putting on a little show for her supposed mortal enemy. The liquor in her had her loosened up and feeling hot. She felt sexy and she knew Spike was a purely sexual creature. You’d have to be blind not to see it in him, in the way he fought. Buffy didn’t care what happened to her tonight. She may end up bloodied, bruised, maybe he’d finally succeed in killing her.
She didn’t care.
Right now all she wanted was him up against her with his arms around her, moving his body against hers.
I keep my visions to myself
It’s only me
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and...
Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because he just hadn’t gotten any in a very, very long time now, but watching the slayer, his slayer, up there moving in a way that suggested she was maybe looking for something a little more than just dancing was driving him absolutely hog wild. He wanted to touch her, feel her body moving against his.
He took a long swig of whiskey straight out of the bottle and stood, and before he could stop himself he was moving toward her.
Like a heartbeat... drives you mad...
In the stillness of remembering what you had...
And what you lost...
And what you had...
And what you lost
Buffy’s heart started to race as Spike came at her slowly, like a predator hunting its prey, only she wasn’t alarmed or frightened. She was excited.
When he ghosted his fingers along her shoulders Buffy felt like electricity was crackling between them. He brushed his fingers all the way down her arms and entwined their fingers at the base, moving with her and watching her all at the same time. Buffy never felt so charged.
Players only love you when they’re playing
Women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you’ll know
Spike pulled her back flush against his abdomen, and instantly relished in how warm and soft she was. He’d never felt such power over her before. It would be the perfect instant to sink his fangs in her, bleed her dry. Kill her and finish his healing. It’d be two birds with one stone.
But he didn’t want that.
He breathed in her perfume and shampoo and whatever else it was that made her smell the way she smelled, and Spike was instantly lost to her.
He placed his hands on her hips and they moved their bodies as one.
Players only love you when they’re playing
Say women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you’ll know
His body fit perfectly against hers, and the moment they started to move together Buffy let all thoughts of Angel, of Angelus, of all the killing, all the torture and fear, go. It was just her and Spike, moving to the sounds of Fleetwood Mac, enjoying each other’s company and embrace.
She was incredibly turned on, more so than she had ever been in her life, and if the bulge pressing ino her bottom was any indication, Spike was turned on too.
Spike knew what she was doing. She was trying to forget about the disaster that was Angelus. She wanted to be a girl for the night, not the slayer. She was taking a risk doing it with him, a master vampire but she knew it, and Spike also knew that she didn’t care it was him because if he decided to kill her tonight, she would welcome it.
He didn’t like that thought.
He would let her be a woman tonight, but he wouldn’t even think of killing her. He wanted to make her feel good again, bring that fire back into her eyes. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt a much stronger pull to this girl, more than just slayer-vampire. No, he wanted her. Even if only for tonight he wanted to share his misery with her, and forget about all of it with her. Tonight there would be no Buffy and Angel, no Spike and Dru. It was just Spike and Buffy.
Spike spun Buffy in his arms so he was facing her and she immediately looked to his eyes. He was saying so much to her without actually speaking, and even without the words she knew what he was telling her.
She took notice of his scarring, and his extremely skinny state. Dru hadn’t been taking care of him. He probably felt pretty much the same as she did then. When she looked back into his eyes they were darker, and he pressed his bulge against her center. He wanted her. It sent a pool of liquid streaming out of her and into her panties. She wanted him so badly, and she was ready for him.
Standing in the center of the darkened room they panted together, staring into one another’s eyes waiting for someone to make a move. Buffy’s hands roamed under Spikes jacket and all over his chest. His hands rubbed circles on her sides and buttocks. They were live wires ready to spark and neither of them cared that they were supposed to kill each other. Right now, tonight, none of that mattered.