Disclaimer: Characters are property of Joss Whedon
Summary: Old acquaintances are reunited on New Year's Eve.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne?"
Robert Burns.
New Year's Eve- in the year 1999.
The club in the East Village was crammed with the beautiful and the hip, all out to celebrate the end of an era. Midnight would usher in the year 2000- a pivotal year...the dawning of a new age.
And that meant- everyone was out to party. Everyone was laughing and happy.
Except for the young man at the corner table.
He was surrounded by smiling faces; but his was somber....almost scowling...the beautiful death mask at the Mardi Gras.
He was waiting for someone.
Hollis leaned forward. "That one dancing...I want that one!" The colored lights reflected his eyes, almost popping with excitement.
The serious one eyed Hollis with contempt. The handsome face was cold...cold as an ice sculpture. Then, suddenly, the face changed- as the eyes brightened and the sensuous mouth curved into a smile.
It was a smile that should have been charming; but wasn't.
He spoke at last- in a voice that should have been casual; but wasn't.
"Benton....where have you been?"
"Sorry, I'm sorry!" The one named Benton dropped into an empty chair. "The stuff wasn't easy to get, you know!"
"But you did?" The voice held a hint of menace.
"Yeah, sure!"
"Great, man!" Lesko, the football jock, bellowed. "So...wait'll I pick one out!"
"Just don't take mine," Hollis whined. "I want that one that's dancing."
"That top-heavy brunette?" The dark-haired leader was suddenly in an expansive mood. "You never did have any taste, Hollis!"
"So, who's your date, Kyle?" Lesko grinned.
"I haven't decided yet, Lesko. I'm with you...we can take our time."
"You know, Kyle, I don't get it!" Benton was sincerely puzzled. "Why do you need this stuff, ayway? You can get just about any girl you want."
Kyle chuckled. "It's fun...that's why." He nodded at all of the people dancing. "Tell me, Benton, doesn't it give you a rush to know that any woman here is yours for the taking?"
"Yeah!" Lesko yelled. "Whether she likes it or not!"
"Thanks to the magic bullet," Kyle smiled at Benton. "And the best part- she doesn't even know for sure who, when, where, or how many! Like that redhead in Soho last month...think about her, waking up the next day..."
Hollis giggled, "We all had a turn with her!"
"I just think...we shouldn't do it so much, you know? What if we get caught? What if..."
"Shut up, Benton, " Kyle said lightly. "Only stupid people get caught."
"And we ain't stupid!" Lesko laughed. "Heyy...look over there! By the bar- that's the one I want!"
Kyle turned his head to look; and then found himself on his feet. A sudden lurch of excitement made it hard to breathe. "Sorry, Lesko...but that's something for me! See, she's an...old friend."
Lesko scowled, but let it pass. And Kyle smiled inwardly. Lesko was a football star- a campus god- but still he deferred to Kyle. But then- Kyle had always been the leader....and he was entitled to the leader's prerequisites.
He went back to studying the blonde at the bar. She wore a purple velvet dress...strapless to display perfect cleavage; and short to show off long legs. She was a small girl with an exquisite, haunting face...a face that was branded into his memory.
Ooohhh- revenge would taste sweet.
"Hello, Buffy," he greeted her. "What can I get you to drink?"
He couldn't believe his luck....Buffy Summers, here. In his ..sphere, his kingdom. He hadn't seen her since high school, when he'd been expelled after that...incident in the principal's office. She'd been involved in that, in some way. So- payback time.
"Kyle," she acknowledged. "I didn't know you were in New York."
"I like it better than California," he smiled at her. God- the little bitch was gorgeous! He wondered how much longer he'd have to wait...well, why wait at all? She was holding a glass of champagne, though she didn't seem to be drinking. The last two years had made him adept...when she set her glass down, he slipped the drug in....
"What about you- are you a New Yorker now?"
He sincerely hoped she was; he'd like nothing better than to meet her again- afterwards. Like that Catholic schoolgirl from the 'burbs who'd burst into tears when she saw him on the street once. Kyle had loved every minute of it- after all, he *had* given her a night to remember in Manhattan!
Now it was Buffy Summers' turn. Buffy- that stuck-up little bitch who'd always ignored him and his cool friends to hang out with the geeks.
She wouldn't ignore him tonight! He could almost taste his excitement...a tangible thing that made him miss some of what she was saying..."move around a lot. This is the last night in New York...then New Orleans until after Mardi Gras."
Better and better...if she had plans for departure tomorrow, it was less likely she'd be filing complaints with the police. Not that it mattered, anyway. By tomorrow all trace of the drug would be gone from her system...one of the many advantages of rohypnol.
Rohypnol...some people called it the date-rape drug; but Kyle preferred its other name...EasyLay. Because...that was the result.
"Oohh," Buffy, suddenly dizzy, clutched the edge of the bar; and Kyle smiled to himself. The drug never failed.
"Not feeling well, Buffy?" Kyle asked, feigning concern. "Why don't we get some air?"
Behind her back he signalled to the others- who were already on the move. Going hunting...he thought, and could hardly control his suppressed laughter. He guided Buffy out back, where the narrow dark alley was. He could sense the others, closing in behind them.
"Uhh," Buffy seemed to stumble, and he reached for her. She felt so good...as sweet and cold as ice-cream. Natural enough...in that late December air...
"Yeah, a regular ice queen, aren't you, bitch?" Kyle demanded. "But the forget pill will take care of that...a nice ruffie...for Buffy? I really hope that you'll remember me, though...your old friend, Kyle?"
Deliberately, he seized her breasts and squeezed hard.
Buffy gave him a dazed, dreamy smile. " I'm waiting for my boyfriend," she said with sudden clarity.
Vaguely, she regarded his hands on her. "I don't think...he'd like you doing that."
Kyle laughed aloud; and the other three joined in. "Well, Buffy," he told her mockingly, "your boyfriend's going to have to share!"
"Oh, I don't think so, mate." The words dropped mockingly from the end of the alley...there was a brief flare from a lighter, and a tall blonde man in a leather coat stepped into view, casually smoking a cigarette.
"Who're you?" Hollis demanded belligerantly.
The blonde smiled. "Spike."
His blue laser stare fastened on Kyle. "She's right, you know. I don't like you doing that."
Kyle felt a sudden premonitory chill. Absurd though it was, there was a prickling at the back of his neck.... almost as though he were in mortal danger.
But that was ridiculous, he told himself. Even if he meant to make trouble, the blonde was alone, the odds were four to one...
Arrogantly he faced the other. "Don't be a hero, and we'll all be happy. In fact, tell you what...you can have some...after we're through."
The blonde was still smiling as he tossed away his cagarette. "Oh, I will. And- you're already through. You just don't know it, yet."
"You're not in any position to make threats," Kyle snapped. He reached for Buffy again, determined to show the Brit he'd do anything he pleased- but somehow she wasn't where he'd left her.
She'd moved behind them- so that the four of them were penned between her and the Englishman.
Kyle got one last look at her- beautiful and sassy...always just out of reach...the tantalizing chimera he'd never been able to touch.
"You...you're...not..."
"Not what, Kyle? Drugged- like your other girls? Oh yes, I saw you adding something to my glass; but I like my drinks unadulterated and pure...."
Furious, he lunged for her...and a roundhouse kick sent him smashing into the back wall of the club. Dazed, he watched Lesko and Hollis rush the Brit, who back-handed Lesko so hard he flew down the alley- only to be kicked back up by Buffy in a bizarre version of a soccer game.
Hollis grabbed at the leather coat; and, before Kyle's horrified gaze, the blonde picked him up with one hand, shook him like a terrier shaking a rat, and then tossed him casually away. Hollis crashed into a garbage dumpster and lay still- his neck at an odd angel.
The blonde seized Lesko; and something happened to his face. It shifted and became satanic while he sank sharp fangs viciously into Lesko's neck. There was a yelling form the football player- just before he went limp.
Benton tried to flee. Panicked, he turned from the blonde and sought to escape past Buffy.
It was a mistake. Her beauty rippled into a demonic visage that still held allure...her fangs bit into Benton as she fed eagerly.
Kyle's mind screamed at him to run...but something seemed wrong with his legs...he couldn't move. He stared in horror as Buffy and the blonde walked over to him and looked down.
Kyle had a good view of their eyes- yellow predatory eyes, like those he'd encountered once before, at the Sunnydale zoo. The man started to reach for him, and he knew it was the end....
"No," he croaked. "Buffy...we're...old friends."
Spike and Buffy laughed together then, softly...and their faces changed and were again human. And again- beautiful.
"Is that so, kitten? Are the two of you...old friends?"
"More like old enemies," Buffy said in amusement.
"Hmmm...there's something to be said for old enemies," the blonde grinned.
He turned his attention back to Kyle. "I should rip his hands off- for daring to touch you," he said, laughter gone from his eyes.
In that instant, he looked like the Angel of Death.
Buffy stepped forward, studying Kyle. "I wouldn't bother, Spike. He has a broken back."
"Ah." The blonde's eyes held a knowing expression. "Speaking from experience, mate, I don't believe you'll fancy life in a sodding wheelchair."
There was a sudden cacophony of sound- horns, sirens, whistles- heralding the arrival of the new year.
The blonde man and the girl turned to one another, smiling.
She held out her arms and he stepped into them, pulling her close, eyes devouring her flower-like face, mouth ravaging hers in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.
The shriek of sound diminished; and the sweet, haunting refrain of Robert Burns' ballad began to play.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot..."
"Come, love, " Spike held onto Buffy as he led her away from the squalid alley. "And...Happy New Year."
The two of them were gone- never once looking back.
Kyle still lay where they had left him, surrounded by the dead bodies of his posse, locked into a nightmare from which there would be no awakening.
The plaintive notes of the song were ending...."And days of auld lang syne..."
The End