SUMMARY: Buffy's back, and ready to trade snippy remarks with Spike. (This
is just a short, not-so-fluffy fluff piece).
RATING: PG-14 for naughty words
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, so I can know where websites are so I can have
some surfing fun.
THANKS: To Rebecca, ever the Valiant Beta Reader of B/S Stuff That Makes Her
B/A Heart Suffer. Also big thanks to Lynn for posting this. If you don't
like it, blame her :)
Ignoring Yoda
by Dare
------
"What? What are you guys all staring at?"
Nobody answered her. They just kept staring.
"Okay, then," Buffy said slowly. Maybe they'd all eaten pasta with magic
mushrooms or something. "You. Staring. At me." Still, they stared. "Me
Buffy. You guys Weird."
Then Willow started crying. Silent, sobless tears that just rolled down her
cheeks. Xander's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Apparently
he'd forgotten his vocabulary.
Anya was the first one to speak. "But you're DEAD."
Suddenly, Buffy remembered. The fight with Glory, then jumping through the
portal; after that there was nothing but a sense of peace. A beautiful, rare
feeling of completeness and satisfaction. And now she was here. "Well, I
was. But I'm not now, thank you very much."
"How?" It was Xander who finally managed to put three letters together and
asked the question that everyone else wanted to know the answer to.
"Um.wouldn't you guys know that? The dead kinda can't bring themselves back,
after all."
"Oh good," Anya said, "you didn't leave your bitchiness behind in the
otherworld."
"Well, since Cordelia's in L.A. I figured someone had to give you a run for
your money in the Miss Bitch pageant."
"Back-from-the-dead-Buffy's kinda mean," Xander mumbled to no one at all.
Willow spoke up for the first time. "Well, she's probably cranky. I mean,
you're cranky when someone wakes you up in the morning, and she's been woken
from the dead."
"So what are you saying, Will? Ten mochaccinos should fix it?"
"Hello? My hearing came back with me."
"G-guys, you really shouldn't talk about her like she's not here."
"Thank you, Tara."
Tara smiled. "I think I should go make some phone calls. I'm pretty sure
Dawn and Mr. Giles would love to hear the good news. And Spike, but he
doesn't have a phone, and he's probably sleeping anyhow because its daytime,
or watching his soaps, and I'm sorry I'm rambling but I've never seen anyone
come back from the dead," she quickly finished, then dashed off to use the
phone behind the counter.
"Oh! Since you were dead I guess you didn't hear the news. Xander and I are
getting married. You can be a bridesmaid, since you're not dead anymore. But
just don't forget to get us a wedding present."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Anya. Congrats, you two." Silenced
persevered once again. Finally, Buffy decided to kick Silence back into its
corner. "Isn't anyone gonna hug me? What, coming back from the dead isn't
worthy of a hug?"
An eyeblink later, Buffy was being smothered by Willow, Xander, and Anya.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow whispered, "I was afraid if I'd touch you, you'd
just disappear or something."
"We missed you so much," Xander choked out.
Buffy wished she could have said the same, but the truth was she didn't have
any recollection of feeling that way when she was dead. Just the peace and
contentedness. So she just hugged them tighter. In the background, she could
hear Tara telling Giles to pick up Dawn from school and get to the Magic
Shop as fast as he could. Giles must have asked why, because Tara said, "You
have to see it to believe it. But it's a good thing, I promise."
******
When Giles and Dawn walked into the shop twenty minutes later, the looks on
their faces were priceless. After lots of tears and hugs, Giles brought up
the question that they had failed to answer earlier.
"How did this happen?" he asked, bewildered.
Willow shrugged. "We don't know either. It was so weird. I turned around and
Buffy was just standing there in front of me."
"None of us saw anything," Xander added, "no fancy lights and drama. Just
the Buffster, looking at us like WE were the ones who came back from the
dead."
"Don't look at me for answers," Buffy said, raising her hands. "I'm totally
clueless too."
"What was it like? Being dead?" Dawn's voice sounded so small. Buffy reached
out and stroked her hair.
"It's not something I remember clearly, or anything. It was just a fuzzy
feeling of peace. Like when you fall asleep but you're not really dreaming."
"M-mom?"
"No, Dawnie. It would have been nice, though. But I think she's at peace,
too." Right after her mother's death, Buffy had come to hate that phrase. It
had felt fake and empty, something to put on a sympathy card. Now she was
glad that it was most likely true.
Silence descended upon the gang. "So.how about those mochaccinos then?"
Buffy asked.
******
Buffy loved her friends; they were her family, after all. She really, truly
loved them with all her heart.
But they were starting to bore her. Maybe it was just the four mochaccinos
she'd had, or maybe the recently-brought-back-from-the-dead were always
restless, but she felt like if she had to keep sitting on a couch in the
Bronze and getting hugged and smothered and looked at like she was doing
amazing magic tricks instead of just sipping her coffee, she'd go insane.
She was itching for something, anything, to do; something that had to be
more exciting than talking. Maybe she'd go dance, burn off that caffeine
energy. She excused herself and headed over to the dance floor.
Two minutes later, Dawn's jaw dropped open. "I can't believe it!" she nearly
shouted.
"What?" Willow and Xander asked in unison, both worried.
"No one has gone to let Spike know!"
"Oh, yeah. Oops." Xander said flatly. Willow punched him in the arm.
"Come on, Xander. You know it would be the right thing to do. He's been so
depressed."
"So what? We all were depressed, Will. Buffy was our friend, not a little
obsession."
"He loved her," Dawn said firmly, surprising Xander with the certainty in
her voice. "And I'm gonna go tell him if none of you are."
Xander sighed as she got up and stalked off. "Why does everyone like Spike
so much?"
Tara looked at Dawn's retreating form. "They were there for each other;
they're friends."
"But still, it's SPIKE."
"Xander, honey, this hating Spike thing has got to go. It makes sex not as
fun because you get all angry and you're not focusing only on me, the way
you should be."
Willow and Tara exchanged a look. "I'll go stop her; she shouldn't be going
to the cemetery alone at night." As she stood up, she saw that Buffy had
noticed Dawn, and was already leaving the dance floor to intercept her.
"Never mind, then," she said, and sat back down.
***
"Hey, Dawn, where ya going?" Buffy asked, gently grabbing her sister's arm.
"No one told Spike. So I'm going."
"Like hell you're walking around after dark by yourself."
"So come with me."
"I'm dancing."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, he deserves to know."
Buffy wanted to disagree. She really did. But she knew Dawn was right.
"Okay, how about this. I dance for half an hour more, and then we'll go over
there together. Deal?"
"Deal," Dawn reluctantly agreed, then headed back to where the rest of the
gang was sitting.
Buffy went back to dancing. It felt great to just let loose and dance with
any cute guy she came across; suddenly, she remembered the night she and
Faith had danced here. A shudder went through her body at the thought of the
other Slayer, until she pushed it out of her mind. Maybe Faith had had the
right idea, sort of. Fun. That's what Buffy needed.
****
Spike needed alcohol. Maybe some chicken wings, but alcohol was a definite.
He hated the Bronze, because even now it still held so many memories of her.
Which is why he went there anyhow. Because that was where he saw her for the
very first time; where he bared his history and his feelings; where she
mercilessly teased him about muscles he'd never even known she'd had; where
- hell he was too sober to do this. It just hurt too much.
The bartender recognized him and set down two shots of Jack and a pint of
Guinness, all of which disappeared in seconds. He signaled for yet another
round, downing the shots and then picking up the beer. He tossed money on
the bar and wandered over to the pool tables to rob stupid kids who thought
they could beat him blind.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
Buffy was on the dance floor. Dancing. He wasn't that drunk, was he? It
couldn't be her. The Buffybot, then. Sometimes the gang used it for
patrolling, to scare away the baddies. It wouldn't be good for word to
spread around the Hellmouth that the Slayer was dead and the only spare one
was in an L.A. jail.
Why the hell was the Buffybot dancing though? He walked over to it. "Why are
you here?" he asked, then shot a dirty look at the pillock dancing with her.
The kid smartly backed away and looked for another dance partner.
Buffy looked up at him. Guess she wouldn't have to go with Dawn to his
crypt. Good. She wasn't overly fond of that place. Of course, she used to
not be overly fond of its resident as well. Not that she was overly fond of
him, now. So what was she? Underly fond? It had a good sound, she decided.
"I don't know," she answered. That was starting to bother her.why WAS she
here? Would she ever find out how or why she was brought back?
"You should get back to the house." There was no sense in wasting its
batteries on dancing, and just looking at it hurt him, not only because it
looked just like her, but also because he regretted ever having it made.
"Since when do you tell me what to do?" she snapped at him.
"Bloody hell, did Willow program dancing AND bitchiness into you?"
Program? Buffy thought. Then a big lightbulb went off over head. Spike
thought she was the robot. Evil, wicked thoughts got into her mind.
"No, but she did leave some of my original programming. Would you like to
dance with me, Spike?"
"No. Go home and power down."
No? Spike didn't want to dance with her? Buffy was kind of pissed. It would
have been funny to get him all turned on and then leave him. She pouted.
"You don't love me anymore?"
"Of course not. You're a robot, and a stupid one at that."
"Do you love the real Buffy, instead of me?"
"More than unlife itself." He swallowed the last of his beer and put the
bottle on a nearby table. "Now come on, I'll drive you back. You don't seem
to be working right."
Buffy slipped her hand in his. "Spike." she said, not in the perky robot
voice. He looked at her closely.the music was too loud to hear a heartbeat,
but the hand was warmer. And for the first time, his slightly alcohol fogged
brain recognized her scent. There wasn't a trace of plastic or metal. "Thank
you, for helping me. For protecting Dawn."
And it all clicked. "Buffy?" he whispered. She nodded. Her hand was still in
his, and she squeezed it. "How?"
"I don't know. All of a sudden, I was here. Land of the Living." She gave
him a small smile.
"Fuck," was all he could think of to say. He shook his head. He wanted to
reach out and touch her, hug her, kiss her, do lots of things that she'd
kick ass if he even tried. "Can we, uh, talk? Or at least, can I talk and
you listen? I've got things that need saying."
Did she really want to hear what he had to say? She remembered his last
grand confession to her, and did not want to end up in chains again. But she
would listen to him; it was the least she could do to thank him for helping.
"Okay."
He headed for the exit, the Bronze being too noisy. She followed, her hand
still in his. He walked her to his car, parked on a nearby side street. He
opened the door for her, and she gave him a look as though he'd just handed
her a calculus pop-quiz.
"It won't take long. I just don't want to be interrupted by any bleeding
vamps that come looking for a fight."
Right. Privacy with Spike was something she so desperately wanted. Her
attitude must have been apparent on her face. "Christ, Buffy, I'm still
chipped, so I couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, and I don't, so just get in
the bloody car."
What the hell, she thought. You only live.what, three times was it now? She
chuckled at her own thoughts and got in the car. Dark, agony filled music
blared through the speakers when he turned the key, and they drove to
wherever they were going in silence. She rolled her window down to see where
they were heading. Warehouses gave way to a few beach shops as they drove
west. Looks like they were going to the ocean.
She got a ridiculous image in her head. Did Spike intend for them to ride
horses down the beach, roll their jeans up to their knees and play in the
surf, make out under the boardwalk?
Nothing was far in Sunnydale, and with Spike's insane driving they were
there in three minutes. He parked on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Buffy
got out and looked around. There was a nice moon out, nearly full, and she
could see the waves breaking on the beach below.
"Why'd you bring me here?"
"Because it's nice here."
It was a decent enough answer. She climbed onto the hood of the DeSoto and
leaned back onto the windshield. She could smell the salty water, hear the
roar of the surf below, feel the breeze on her face and in her hair. It was
nice having all her senses stimulated.
"You don't know how or why you're back?"
"Nope." She heard him light a cigarette behind her.
"You're not happy about it, are you?"
She turned her head around and looked at him. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, your first day back from the dead and you're ignoring your friends
and dancing by yourself. Then you agree to come with me instead of hanging
with them."
"I felt like I was suffocating," she admitted, and was shocked to hear
herself say it to him. Since when did Spike become Deep Feeling Confessor
Guy?
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Failing. You and the little bit. There never should've been a choice. Both
of you should've made it."
"You tried. Don't think I didn't notice that. I appreciate it, I really
really do."
"Wanna fuck me as a thank you?" he joked.
"Ewww." But it made her laugh, and that was all he truly wanted to see.
Silence settled in for a while, with the exception of the DeSoto's radio.
"What IS that?" Buffy asked.
"Nine Inch Nails. I sto- uh, found it lying on the ground. Decided to rescue
it and give it a good home."
"I'd like to inform you that I'm rolling my eyes, since you can't see them."
"And I'd like to inform you that I'm playing with my dick. But you can see
it if you want."
Typical Spike, she thought. But as crude as he could be, she preferred
Raunchy Spike to Undying Love Spike; he was way easier to handle. Instead of
a snappy reply, she declined comment and listened instead to the night
around her. The waves washed onto the shore below, over and over again, and
she was lulled by the noise. It mingled with the radio and before she even
realized it, she asked Spike, "Wanna dance?"
"Does that 'dance' have air quotes around it, implying a more lascivious and
entertaining activity?"
"Did you see me make the air quotes?"
"No."
"Well then there's your answer, Blondie." She slid off the hood. "I just
feel like dancing, that's all."
He shrugged. "Seems to be your theme for the night. Well, aside from the
whole resurrection thing. And here I thought Jesus'd be coming back before
you did."
"I like to dance."
"I do too."
"Yeah, but your kind of dancing has air quotes around it."
Spike slid his hands around her waist and pulled her to him. The beat was
slow and he was never as happy as when she rested her little hands on his
arms and her head on his chest. Buffy knew it was Not Of The Right but
couldn't quite find it within herself to care.
"How long was I gone?" she asked. Her voice was small and he had trouble
believing that this tiny creature was one of the most badass persons on the
planet.
"Sixty seven days," he replied without pausing to think about it.
"How come my body is normal? Shouldn't I have been like, a rotting corpse or
something?"
"Don't think about it." Here he was, trying to enjoy a little romantic
dancing with the Slayer, and she wanted to talk about her rotting corpse.
"I want to."
"Well fucking don't. I don't have the answers for you and chances are you'll
never get them."
"I want answers."
"We all do, pet. But I'm not gonna complain about it, because for the past
sixty seven days all I've dreamt about was having you back, and it's
happened. Hell, part of me is terrified that this is all some sort of
horrible nightmare that I'm gonna wake up from any minute now, and you'll
still be gone."
"It was my choice."
"What was?"
"To die. I chose to die. God, Spike, I wanted to. You were right all along.
I was just so tired of it all, and there was no other way, and it seemed to
all fall into place. It was my fate, my destiny, and now it doesn't make
sense anymore. I accepted that it was supposed to end that way, but if I'm
back, how can that be right? Did I fail? Or do I have even more work to do
here? Not that I was totally conscious of it or anything, but being dead
wasn't really bad at all."
He pushed her away from him and looked into her eyes. "Does this mean that I
was right about that death wish all along?"
"Jeez, you make it so melodramatic. Buffy Summers and Jackie Chan in
~Deathwish V: The Hellmouth.~"
"Charles Bronson."
"Whatever."
They were silent for a while. Then Spike noticed something. "Your clothes."
he started, then stepped back to take a better look at her.
Buffy watched him as he stared intently at her body, and knew what art in a
museum felt like. "I would tell you to take a picture because it lasts
longer, but we all know that you have quite enough of those."
"Shut up. Your clothes.they're the same ones you were wearing."
"When I died?" she finished for him. He nodded. She looked down at her
outfit. He was right.
"They buried you in a dress."
She'd been casually talking about her own death for most of the day, but his
comment stung her. She had been BURIED. Just like with her mom, her friends
had been forced to pick what outfit she should wear for the rest of
eternity. The total vastness of the situation hit her. She hoped it was a
good one; Calvin Klein seemed like a good choice for eternity, but then
again, Bebe had been more of her style while living. Not that it really
mattered anymore, cause she wasn't in the grave, she was standing on a cliff
overlooking the Pacific with Spike and he was-
Spike was examining her. "What are you doing?" she asked when he rolled up
her sleeve and turned over her arm.
"Looking for bruises, scratches. You were banged up a bit, y'know, when."
Fuck, when did this get hard for him? He'd been dealing pretty well, or so
he thought, up until now.
"Well, there aren't any. So stop playing Doctor."
"If you think this is how you play Doctor, you're in some sore need for
lessons. I'd be happy to teach you."
"You're such a pig."
"You can roll around naked in the mud with me, then."
"Ooookay. That'll do, pig, that'll do." She caught his raised eyebrow and
confused look. "From the movie, ~Babe~? Never mind. Why do I expect a
soulless vampire to be watching kids' movies."
He smiled. Not a smirk, but an actual, real smile. Buffy was pretty sure she
hadn't seen many of those. He caught her staring and turned his face away.
"So.all of a sudden, you just show up out of the blue on a day that's not
special in any way, wearing the same clothes as when you died, minus the
cuts and bruises. I don't really get it."
Well, he was only kind of changing the subject. "No offense, but you've
never been the chewiest cookie in the pack. Okay, that metaphor sounded way
better in my head." She shrugged. "But I don't get it either. Most of me
wants to know why and how, and then a small part of me is sitting on the
couch, eating popcorn and not really caring."
"Are those the only two parts you have?" He noticed that she was avoiding
eye contact. "Hmm, looks like Spike knows Buffy better than she thinks he
does. Again."
"Does Spike know that Buffy thinks people who talk in the third person are
stupid?" Well, crap. She just realized she had talked in the third person as
well. Way to be witty, Summers.
"Damn, I missed this." Spike leaned back against the car. "You probably
think what I missed most was looking at your ass, which I did, don't get me
wrong; but what I really missed was your company."
Genuine complement? Or was it the 'I love you for your mind' pick-up line?
So she called him on it.
"I'm serious, Buffy." And not for the first time, he wondered what the hell
kind of name was 'Buffy' anyhow.
"Oh yes, let's all believe the soulless vampire is telling the truth." She
folded her arms over her chest.
"Give me some credit," he retorted, and Buffy wondered if he'd taken acting
lessons while she'd been dead. He actually looked hurt, like a puppy that'd
been kicked.
Dammit. She loved puppies. "Yeah. Sorry, bad habit." Apologizing to Spike
was still pretty new and still felt way wrong, so she said it tough and put
her little hands on her little hips for emphasis.
Spike really wanted to laugh. Instead he grinned. "S'okay. I like being your
bad habit." Then he wiggled his eyebrows. Goddamn him! Any sympathy the
kicked-puppy look had gotten him just flew out the window. It didn't matter
if they were already outside or not.
"You are SO NOT my bad habit."
"Like, I am SO," he imitated back at her. Then he snickered. "Looks like you
can kill the girl in California but you can't kill the California in the
girl."
"How 'bout I kick the English out of your ass?"
"Sounds peachy, as long as you kiss my boo-boos when you're done." He arched
his eyebrow at her. She wrinkled her nose at him. Infuriating, aggravating,
irritating, arrogant, annoying- she wished she had a thesaurus with her-
stupid vampire! Every time she talked to him it ended up being a tennis
match with banter and insults instead of yellow fuzzy tennis balls. She
wished she could hit him with a yellow fuzzy tennis ball right now. And he
knew, damn him, he knew that it made her blood boil and he just egged her on
and teased her until she got worked up enough to hit him. 'Cause that was
the only kind of third base she was ever going to with him. Manipulative
little bastard, with his stupid all-black outfit, and then that time- what
the hell was that anyhow?- in his stupid NOT black outfit, trying to look
all sexy like some kind of damn Gap commercial and actually managing to do
it. She was so going to kick his firm- no! Bad Buffy!- ass.
Except she couldn't. She was stuck. And there were lips, and they were on
her lips, and the warm hood of the car was under her butt, and there was
more intensity and electricity rushing through her than when she had jumped
into the portal. Everything was going snap and crackle and she felt as
though someone had dropped the hair dryer into the bathtub.
Her hands clawed at fabric and then at hair, and instead of pushing she was
pulling, which made no bloody sense, and oh my god when did she start
talking like Spike? Spike! It was Spike's lips on hers, Spike's tongue
challenging her own to a duel, Spike's hips pinning hers to the hood,
Spike's hands sliding around her waist, and yes, that was definitely Spike's
spike pressing into her.
Her high school Physics teacher's voice popped into her head. Opposites
attract, he'd said. Of course he'd been talking about particle thingies and
not a vampire and a slayer. Repel, repel, repel, her mind chanted over and
over again. What repels? Like thingies! Well, she was like Spike. Blonde
hair, blue eyes, lean, muscular torsos, a nice six pack of abs.oh, she SO
needed to get her hands off him. In her head she imagined two little
negative particles making out and then flying apart. Push, Buffy.
Good girl, she told herself as she gulped in the cool night air. She was
shaking and so was he.
"Wha-?" she managed between gasps. "Why?"
"You forgot Who, What, Where, and When."
She punched him in the nose.
"Don't DO that, Slayer!" he yelled, hand cradling his face. Maybe if she hit
him hard enough, enough times, she could break that damn nose and he'd be
all ugly.
"Don't do THAT!" she yelled back at him.
"Yeah, well I'm bleeding sorry but I had to! Was there anything you ever
regretted not doing in those few seconds before you jumped?"
"Great excuse," she sniped.
"I didn't say it was a good one! But it's like someone gave me the biggest,
best gift of my fucking unlife, and I couldn't waste it. Not again. You were
dead and gone and you can't expect me not to at least try it, once, because
I know that once is all I'll ever get." He wiped the trickle of blood that
leaked from his nose. They stared at each other until Buffy returned to
normal breathing.
"I'm sorry," he said, and managed to sound sincere. Buffy was highly
suspicious of those acting lessons.
Maybe she should let him get off a little easier. She remembered when she
had thought she'd lost Angel for good, and then how insanely happy she'd
been when he'd somehow managed to magically return. If what Spike felt for
her was even a fraction of what she'd felt for Angel.she understood.
She nodded. "Just.don't let it happen again." She raised an eyebrow. "Unless
I say you can." She had to do it; she had to tease him. It was instinct.
He smirked back at her. "That might be sooner than you think, Slayer. There
was a part of you that liked it."
"Keep dreaming, Spike."
"Until the day you start ignoring Yoda and give in to your dark side, love.
Then I won't need to dream anymore."
Buffy took a good look at him, from bleached-gel head to scuffy booted toe
and back up again, coming to a stop at his eyes. They were nice eyes, the
only problem with them being that they belonged to Spike. Why couldn't he
have been an ugly vampire? She had a yucky feeling inside that it would have
made things a whole lot easier.and dustier.
"I have a proposition for you."
"Name it and it's yours, pet."
"Drive me to L.A. Tonight."
His eyes turned out to look at the ocean for a while before coming back to
her. "Angel?" She nodded. "On one condition."
"How much money will it take?" Dammit, she really hated paying Spike. It
took valuable spending power from the Buffy Boot Fund.
"No money. You can't put a price on this."
"On what?" She was growing impatient and curious.
"You give us a chance."
"Us as in you and me? 'Scuse me if I sound incredulous."
"And 'scuse me for being surprised that you know a four syllable word. Yes,
you silly bint, you and me." His finger pointed at her and then himself to
emphasize.
"Jeez, Spike, you don't actually have to point. Give me some credit."
"And you give me some. I'm not talking about us dating and doing lots of
horizontal fighting, even though that would be nice. I'm just talking about
us being friends is all."
"Friends?" Why didn't it sound so bad when she said it out loud? So she said
it again. "Friends."
Yeah, it actually sounded okay. Provided he didn't put the moves on her
every five seconds. She looked over at the ocean as if it had answers, but
all it had were some tiny lights in the distance that were probably from an
offshore oil rig. Well, it could be a sign.
"C'mon, Buffy." his voice was so earnest it was scary. "It could be fun."
She turned to him and he would always remember the way the moonlight shone
in her eyes. "Y'know, Spike, it already is."
-the end-
Feedback