"Your boyfriend is here."
The look Buffy tossed over her shoulder brought a smile to his face; a fragile tendril of hope igniting deep inside that was telling him that he wasn't going to be forsaken for the great poof..
Not this time.
Buffy looked over at the table where her friends and Watcher were sitting and mentally cringed when her eyes locked with the broody brown of Angel's. Buffy had never noticed the bulging vein in his forehead before, but then realized he looked liked he was about to explode with anger. Not that she could blame him, really. She had been all about the avoidance lately and not much with the talky. And well... this thing with Spike? Very weird. But did she really deserve his anger and outrage?
Yeah, she pretty much did.
Now she had to make the choice; decide if she was going to take the huge plunge into unknown and unchartered -but very sexy- territory. Because this thing? It was huge.
Spinning around to regard the demon who held her so easily in his arms, Buffy took a brief moment to search for her answer.
And she found it.
The ever-present cockiness and self-assuredness that was all Spike was in full display-yet that small hint of vulnerability and fear that she found lurking behind the intense blue depths were the most telling of all. The knowledge that she was choosing to be with someone who had made it their life work to assassinate her kind was pretty much on the side of ludicrous; of that she was fully aware. She had known it since they'd done the dirty dancing thing in LA, but there was something else she knew.
He was worth that risk.
Buffy put one hand on his shoulder and stood on slight tippy-toe so her mouth reached his ear. "He's NOT my boyfriend."
That proverbial line had been crossed, and now Spike knew exactly where he stood. Right where he wanted to be. With her.
With a cocky smile, he fell dramatically to his knees in silent worship as he practically devoured her with his eyes. After giving a brief nod to his band members, Spike put the microphone to his mouth and finished the song he'd been engaged in.
Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Sent from heaven above
That’s right
To rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yeah cradle of love
That’s me mama
I robbed the devil of love
All right
Cradle of love
Buffy knew she should be embarrassed by the fact that he was on his knees before her, his pelvis rocking forward obscenely to further punctuate the lyrics, but she was being held helplessly captive by his voice and the intensity of his eyes. Her body continued to sway with an unconscious rhythm to the underlying beat, and she realized with a start that her slayer-ness was getting off on having a sexy vampire so prone before for.
Well, she wasn't going to argue with that.
As the song drew to a close, Buffy watched as Spike lumbered to his feet, the predatory look on his face pure Spike rather than Idol. He grabbed her hand and pressed a tender kiss to the palm, his eyes silently questioning her commitment.
'Since when was Spike so easy to read? ' she thought in another lust-filled daze. But she knew her heart, and her heart was dictating her actions here; with her hormones along for the ride.
Buffy gave him a soft smile and a barely imperceptible nod and the relief that was reflected back warmed her.
"Get ready" he mouthed to her.
Finally allowing himself eye contact with the person that was solely responsible for creating his darkest side, Spike addressed the audience in a playful voice.
"I've got one last song for ya, and I've got me a dedication to do. This little number goes out to the one person who is responsible for making me what I am today. " Spike's stare was unwavering as he regarded Angel who sat seething with barely constrained rage. "EXACTLY what I am. He took me under his tutelage and molded me into his very likeness. So this is for you, Angelus."
Knowing the audience were under the impression that he had been addressing a musical influence, Spike couldn't help but smirk at that thought. Oh there had been music all right. Ripped right out of peoples throats as they screamed for mercy to his accompaniment of laughter.
Slipping the microphone in the stand, Spike turned to the band and gave them a signal. Unhurried, melodious music began pouring from the instruments they wielded with such proficiency, and Buffy was impressed by their continuing skills at improvising, since nothing about tonight's performance would have been something they had dealt with in rehearsal.
Head tipped back, eyes closed, Spike allowed the music to grip him. He could feel Buffy right at his side, and he could finally relish in the feeling of how right that was rather than the utter and complete wrongness of it.
With his cue coming up, Spike opened his eyes and locked eyes with Angel again, who wore the face of the deeply suffering. Spike inwardly snickered, knowing how much Angel hated any reminder of his destruction and violence as Angelus.
Which was exactly why Spike felt the need to remind him of just WHO and WHAT they had both been, and he eagerly began his last song of the evening.
I'll do anything
For my sweet sixteen,
And I'll do anything
For little run away child
Buffy looked at Spike suspiciously, wondering why he had chosen this particular song. Was he trying to tell her something? That she was too young or something? Because maybe she was, but her Slayer side had aged her and she no longer regarded herself as the bubble-brained Buffy she had been before she had been called. But then he looked at her again, and her fears evaporated. Seeing the molten look on his face reaffirmed that Spike definitely saw her as a woman.
Risking another look at Angel, Buffy was surprised to see evidence of his 'guilt' face instead of the previous enraged face but her attention was immediately diverted by Spike's voice working its magic on her hormones.
Gave my heart an engagement ring.
She took ev'rything.
Ev'rything I gave her,
Oh sweet sixteen.
Built a moon
For a rocking chair.
I never guessed it would
Rock her far from here
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
Someone's built a candy castle
For my sweet sixteen.
Someone's built a candy brain
And filled it in.
Spike began circling her with smooth, stealthy movements; each step reaffirming his inherent predatory status. How these people could think he was Billy Idol and not see him for the magnificent supernatural presence he really was, was truly beyond her. Although to be fair, she wasn't really THAT familiar with Billy Idol; but she couldn't imagine him having the same animal magnetism that Spike did. Well, if he did, not in the bucket loads like Spike.
Without even realizing it was happening, her Slayer-ness responded to Spike's primal stalking and Buffy began moving with slow, sensuous, deliberateness to the lilting rhythm of the song. A deep, aching need began building up in response to his heated perusal, and she realized with a rush that her dark, primeval essence had connected with Spike's and somehow had found a weird sort of harmonious balance. God, no wonder she'd never been able to kill him. In a sick, twisted, totally Hellmouth-y way, they had been meant for each other.
And once more, that profound realization produced a serious lack of wiggage, which was just fine with her.
Buffy found herself ignoring the openly incredulous faces of the audience, this was her dance, her profound revelation time. Even her guilt over Angel had appeased, the stark differences between Spike and Angel now truly clear in her mind. Angel had treated her like she was made of glass, tip toeing around any real intimacy, hulking in her shadow as her unneeded protector.
But Spike treated her like the Slayer.
Making a serious effort to shut off her inner thoughts, Buffy succumbed to the pull of Spike's voice, basking in its husky beauty as it flowed through her body, further awakening the siren within.
Well I'll do anything
For my sweet sixteen
Oh I'll do anything
For little runaway child
Well, memories will burn you.
Memories grow older as people can
They just get colder
Like sweet sixteen
Oh, I see it's clear
Baby, that you are
All through here
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
+++++++
"Angel, I can't believe you're not doing anything... about that!!" Xander complained loudly, eyeing the sullen vampire with dismay. He had been looking forward to the bleached menace getting some good ass whupping by the Oh-So-Broody One and thus far, he'd been sorely disappointed.
Anger was slowly leeching its way out of Angel's system as he turned his head to regard the annoying teen. Guilt that he had shrugged aside and tried to bury continued to blast him with every meaningful look and twisted lyric that Spike tossed his way.
"And why is he dedicating this song to you? Because I've had about all the disgusting visuals I can take for one evening, thank you very much," Xander continued.
"Uh, Angel? He doesn't... you know... have Buffy in a thrall, does he?" Willow asked timidly, trying to find something to excuse her friend's behavior.
A deep and pained sigh was expelled as Angel considered his answer. He knew Buffy's Watcher was watching him, could feel the intensity of that intelligent stare burning right through him.
"He doesn't have her in a thrall."
"Oh please! Like you would know!" Something occurred to Xander. "Well, I guess you would know, being dead and all. But that is not our usual bouncy Buffster right there."
"Why did Spike say you made him? I thought Drusilla made him." Willow's confused face was becoming more pronounced as the night wore on.
"She did." Unwanted memories came bursting into his consciousness and Angel tried to beat them back again to no avail.
"Angel?" With just one spoken word, Giles had broken through the rest of Angel's defenses and his sudden need to confess was overwhelming.
"I made him a monster," he announced in a hushed voice.
"But... you just said Drusilla sired him." Willow didn't like being this confused.
"She did," Angel admitted, staring at the table; anywhere but at Spike's accusing eyes, Buffy's obvious defection or any of the questioning faces that were pointed his way. His guilt was absolute, there could be no forgiveness to dampen this remorse.
"But?" Giles prompted.
"He wasn't a monster."
"Huh?" Willow found herself asking. "He didn't turn into a vampire?"
Angel finally raised his eyes from the table. "That's not what I said. I said he wasn't a monster when he was turned." He looked at Giles who looked like he was beginning to understand. "When he was turned, the demon was there, yes; but more of his human side was retained than usual. He was still a sniveling, little wuss, spouting poetry and talking about helping his sick mother."
"And you did what?" Giles was beginning to get a very clear picture of what had occurred some hundred years prior and his stomach revolted suddenly.
A twisted smile worked its way onto Angel's face. "I taught him how to be a monster."
Never the brightest one, even Xander finally realized what Spike had meant with his dedication to Angel. "So...Spike's like what? Trying to rub it in your face that you made him the all evil railroad spike-through-the-head guy?"
"No. He was making me remember what he had been like when he was turned." It pained Angel to admit it, but it was true. Drusilla's creation had been full of idealistic daydreams and tender feelings, an aberration as far as vampires went. His first kill had been under duress and there had been tears that had followed.
Of course, he was responsible for changing that, Angel thought with self disgust. Through torture and cruelty, Angelus had wielded a brutal and sadistic hand over the younger vampire, and had-as Spike had announced-molded him into what he became.
A killer. A monster. Just like he had been.
"Wow." Willow was stunned. She could see guilt working a huge number on Angel, and was beginning to see things in a new light. For one thing, she felt better about Buffy being up on stage dancing with Spike.
"So, let me get this straight. Not only do you have the blood of however many people you killed on your hands; but you also are responsible for Spike's death count?" Xander shook his head in disgust, anger simmering in his gut. "That's...really great."
Willow rolled her eyes at Xander's antagonistic comments and turned her head to the stage. The music still filled the small club and Willow was really digging the live version of it. Even if it was... well, Spike.
Her eyes widened. "Uh.... guys? Where'd they go?" Her voice was more shrill than she would have liked.
tbc...
I am taking liberties with the time frame of season 2.
Chapter 13
Spike owned a Porsche. ... That was the only thing that seemed to penetrate Buffy's jumbled brain of mass confusion. Spike owned a Porsche. A convertible Porsche at that, feeling the wind teasing its way through her hair. Expecting to see the Desoto in the parking lot, when Spike had first inserted the key into this beauty, Buffy decided instantly that this car fit him even better than his trademark duster usually did. It just seemed to provide an extra layer of sleek, sensual power to his already oh-so-commanding presence. God, it was hot. HE was hot.
Even Buffy knew that the majority of men who owned these kinds of cars were usually trying to make up for penile inadequacies. Having felt the meaty size of Spike's erection ground against her, she knew instinctively that this car was so not misplaced penis envy. It merely represented a material extension of Spike himself; fast, sexy and potentially lethal.
And definitely fit him better than his piece of crap Desoto. Yes, Buffy liked this new and improved Spike very much.
Pulling her thoughts forcefully away from sexy vampires who definitely did not suffer from little dick syndrome before her brain went too far into the gutter, she focused it instead on her atypical behavior. She had just blindly followed Spike when he had pulled her from the stage amid a chorus of boos and cheers. Her friends had been totally oblivious which had made Buffy want to throw something at them for their supreme inattentiveness; but the other part of her was just grateful she was able to make an easy getaway.
Suddenly she realized something. "Where are we going?"
Spike ruined her pleasure of staring at his perfect profile by turning to look at her. "Now you ask?"
Buffy had the sense to look slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well with all the stealthy stage leaving and car admiring, it kinda slipped my mind."
"Well, I'm not gonna tell you. Guess you'll just have to find out when we get there, won't you?"
"You're evil." A mock pout settled over her face.
"Damn well better believe it," he replied mildly.
"Are you sure you're really Spike?"
"Last time I checked," he answered easily. Anticipation only heightened his usual-post concert high, and he found himself tapping the steering wheel in time to a beat only he could hear.
"Do you like live Billy Idol 24/7 or what?" Buffy found herself asking, realizing that this was the first time she'd ever had an actual conversation with Spike. Sure, they'd tried to kill each other tons of times, insulted each other, danced, kissed, danced some more-but sitting down and making with the talking? Not so much.
Buffy decided that was it pretty much typical for the weirdness that was her life and shrugged the oddity away.
"Why, you don't like Billy?" His voice held a teasing that brought a smile to Buffy's lips.
"I like Spike more." Her eyes widened slightly at her spontaneous response and a rush of heat engulfed her body as she wished she hadn't blurted her inner thoughts out loud. This...thing was still too weird and too new for her to be so... honest about her feelings. Handing over the ability to use it against her to someone who had used words as a lethal weapon to cut her down in the past was probably not of the good, and Buffy cursed her stupid mouth.
But the look he sent her assured her that he more than appreciated her spontaneous words and that she was in no danger of having her emotions trampled by him anytime soon. A different kind of heat now sizzled through her body in response to his hungry eyes, effectively replacing her previous embarrassed flush.
Discomfiture struck without warning. Suddenly needed a safer topic of discussion, Buffy found herself asking, "So uh, how did all this come about?"
"All what?" His tone was innocent, but the smirk on his face told her that he knew exactly what she was referring to, unwilling to let her off the hook that easily.
Buffy gestured wildly to encompass his entire body, trying to ignore the way his seat belt caressed his bare chest. "You know... The whole Billy Idol impersonator thing."
He gave a slight shrug with one shoulder, drawing Buffy's attention to the enticing way his muscles rippled under his perfectly smooth skin. Suddenly she was very much aware of the fact that he sat half naked just inches from her; and while he may lack body heat, Buffy could feel a surge of warmth engulfing her by his close proximity regardless.
When Spike peered at her curiously out of the corner of his eye, Buffy tore her eyes away from the visual delight she had been feasting on and fastened them on the dashboard. He couldn't help the smirk that curved his lips up at her behavior, finding this surprising gift of shyness endearing. Shy was one thing he had never associated with his Slayer before, and it just gave her that hint of vulnerability that he realized he liked seeing.
The silence wore on just a fraction too long, causing Buffy to squirm uncomfortably in her seat. Returning to her earlier question, she posed it again.
"Are you going to answer me about this whole Billy Idol thing, or is it some great secret? I mean, you were gone how many months? So what happened when you left here?"
"Drusilla," he finally said as he masterfully navigated the powerful car towards the other side of town, its low-slung carriage hugging the road with ease.
"She made you do the Billy Idol routine?"
He gave her a derisive snort in response. "No. She saw a picture of Pat Benatar and got all loopy over it. Thought she resembled her or some rot like that. It was just another one of her bloody phases that lasted way longer than it should have. Couldn't call her Dru, had to call her Pat. Had to soddin' well listen to Pat Benatar's greatest hits until my ears were ready to fall off. Christ, it was a non-ending bloody nightmare. And she was all better, you know? So I didn't get the reprieve of her being too weak to keep things up."
Shocked to find that she was not struck with jealousy at the mention of Spike's sire, Buffy actually found herself amused by this revelation. Of all the possible scenarios that Buffy could have come up with, having to cater to a Pat Benatar obsessed, insane vampire after all the things that Spike had done for her before they left, was just... funny.
"So then how did Billy come about?"
Spike snorted once more. "Dru did it, is what. She thought Billy and Pat together were quite the business and that Miss Edith told her I needed a change. So she would dress me up and make me take her to nightclubs in Los Angeles."
"So Dru made you buy your own club?"
"No. The stupid bint got it in her head that Billy and Pat were doomed and took off."
Buffy looked at him curiously. "You couldn't make her come back?"
"Never tried." Spike's eyes remained steady on the view outside the windshield, the pain of Drusilla's betrayal now faded to just a mere shadow of memories.
"Why not?" Buffy couldn't help but ask.
Spike turned to look at her, his eyes swallowing hers in a blaze of intensity. "Because there was something else I wanted, is why."
Buffy could feel her heart beginning to pound under the implications of his words. He didn't mean her, did he? Her silence gave Spike a wide platform to continue his tale.
"Anyway, so Dru shacked up some vamp who fancies himself Julio Inglesias since apparently, Julio and Pat are more compatible. I stayed in LA, bought Rebel Yell as an investment into the future, and the rest is history."
Buffy knew there was a lot he was leaving out, but found herself suddenly too overwhelmed with an unwanted case of apprehension to press him for the details.
Spike saved her from spazzing by pulling into the long circular driveway of one of Sunnydale's better hotels, letting the powerful car idle in front of the valet parking attendant who looked at the expensive car with wide, hungry eyes, practically licking his lips in anticipation.
Turning to face the girl next to him, Spike reached out and slid his hand through hers, giving her smooth skin gentle strokes with the calloused pad of his thumb.
Buffy couldn't squelch the nervous gulp that descended upon her as Spike studied her intently. "Are you, uh...staying here?" she blurted out.
A gentle smile curled over his full lips. "That I am, luv." Glaring at the valet attendant over Buffy's head, who was waiting anxiously-if not impatiently- to take Spike's car to the parking garage, Spike focused his attention back on the nervous girl at his side. "Do you want to come up?"
Surprised that she had been given the choice, Buffy allowed her gut feeling to answer rather than listening to the annoying blather of her common sense.
"Sure." She offered him a quick smile before turning her attention to the door handle.
The growl that came from Spike had her whipping her head back around in confusion, her brows knitting together as a slight curl of warning shot through her. She didn't get the benefit of an explanation before Spike threw his door open and stalked around the car to her side, and opened the door she had been in the process of attending to herself..
That little act right there managed to freak Buffy out more than anything else Spike had said or done since she had laid eyes on him in LA.
He had growled at her because she was going to open her own car door.
That was... well, weird. And disturbing, and...
"Are you getting out sometime today?" His familiar snarking tone broke through the shock that had just engulfed her, and she all but leapt from the car in an undignified motion, earning her an amused chortle from Spike.
"Women, eh?" The valet parker commented to Spike in a familiar tribute to the universal pain men suffer through because of women. "Can't live without them, and you can't kill them." He shot Spike a private, knowing smile that he more than understood his pain, ignoring the outraged glare from Buffy,
'Shut up you pillock, before I rip your bloody throat out," Spike snarled, taking a step in the idiot's direction.
TBC...
Thank you to CopyKween for the Pat Benatar idea. See, told you I'd use it!
Chapter 14
In the breath of a mere instant, Spike's tenuous standing with Buffy was almost lost.
Her muscles jumped to tense with wary anticipation, a familiar action he had witnessed many times in his previous pursuits to end her life. Yet it was the look of saddened resignation that settled over her lovely face that managed to do the trick, striking its way to the very quick of his indignant fury.
Self recriminations slammed into Spike as he paused in his attack to gather himself together, almost having risked perfect bliss for the mere sake of retribution over a few thoughtless comments. From someone who did not matter in the least in the grand scheme of things.
But he stopped himself before it was too late, and that was what was important.
Buffy continued to watch him warily, her warrior stance relaxing somewhat. It was several terse seconds before Spike found himself at a safe point to speak again.
Addressing the cause of his near ruination, Spike growled, "You need to have a bit more respect for women than that, you git."
Floating in the back of his awareness, the boy somehow sensed that a dark and sinister event had just been avoided. He lost no time in nodding mutely before sending a mumbled "sorry" in Buffy's direction.
Somewhat mollified, Spike turned and reached into the car, retrieving an item that was of the familiar to Buffy.
"God, you still have that thing?" Buffy found herself asking, her body practically sagging with relief at Spike's apparent self-control.
He shot her an offended look. "Bloody right I do."
"Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look like Billy Idol?"
Spike glared at the valet parker, ignoring the stupidity of the question.
The boy hunched his shoulders. "What! I was just asking..."
Buffy watched as Spike turned his back on the hotel employee and slipped his arms into the familiar coat, the well worn leather bringing a myriad of conflicting memories to the edge of her consciousness. Yet just as quickly as they tried to surface, Buffy stomped them down, not willing to give her common sense any credence.
Because being here with Spike? There was no amount of flawed logic that could convince her better judgment that she wasn't doing something totally stupid.
So better to not give it a chance to speak up at all.
She watched as Spike threatened the parker over the safety and well-being of his car before handing over a tip. A significant tip, at that. She found that bizarre; Spike's switch from 'don't you dare open your own car door' guy to monster with deadly intent before switching into the big tipper in the span of a mere minute. She chalked it up to the enigma that was just Spike. An enigma she still had to figure out what was all about, and more importantly, how she fit in.
Spike slid his cool palm through hers, lacing his fingers tightly and led her through the wide glass doors into the hotel's spacious, opulent lobby. Buffy was more than aware of the looks of curiosity they were receiving and briefly wondered how Spike could remain so immune and unaffected by it. His typical bad boy swagger was in full affect and Buffy had to make a visible effort to slow her steps down to match his leisurely pace.
She had never been so glad to reach an elevator in all her life.
She eased off on the death grip she had maintained on Spike's hand and prayed for the doors to open, still feeling the full weight of stares digging into her back.
Paranoid? Oh yes, definitely so, also knowing that most of the looks were most likely in regard to the swaggering made-up, jewelry-clad vampire at her side rather than disapproving glances over her youthful self accompanying a man up to his hotel room.
Helplessly lost in full retro tribute, her mind flashed to the movie she had watched for the millionth time the previous week, Pretty Woman and she felt a sense of recognition.
'Please don't let there be a bench in the elevator,' she thought to herself fiercely, making an attempt to fetter away her increasing and misplaced anxiety.
With a loud 'ping' the doors to the elevator slid open,-happily bench free and empty to boot-and it was all Buffy could do to not to bolt into the small space, eager to be swallowed up in the close confines and regain her usual anonymity.
When the doors shut in front of them and the appropriate floor button had been selected, Buffy peeked over at Spike and noticed the indulgent, amused grin he was bestowing upon her.
"What?" Buffy asked suspiciously, scowling.
"You. You're adorable."
That wasn't quite the response she thought would have spilled from his sexy mouth, but the obvious sincerity in his voice comforted her and she consciously willed the muscles that had drawn up again in tight bunches to relax ever so slightly.
"Why am I doing this?" she asked, questioning more herself than the vampire at her side.
Spike snorted beside her, earning a sharp look. "No really, Spike. Why?"
A seemingly endless sea of blue suddenly captured her eyes. "Because you can't help it anymore than I can," he uttered softly.
And that just about summed it up.
She was saved from having to reply by the elevator coming to stop. Nervousness struck hard as she watched the doors open. Spike gave her hand a gentle squeeze and following his lead, she allowed him to guide her down the long, tastefully muted blur of a hallway. He paused outside of a door, releasing her hand to grab the key card out of his duster pocket.
When he had the door successfully open, he held it ajar for Buffy, amused by her skittish bolt into the room and the refusal to meet his eyes.
He found her standing in the middle of the room, mouth slightly agape.
"Wow, you really work this rock star gig, don't you?"
Spike flashed a smile at her, shrugging out of his duster and throwing it over the back of a chair. "Might as well be comfortable."
"Comfortable? I didn't even know they HAD rooms like this in Sunnydale," Buffy commented, her eyes traveling around the large two room suite-anywhere but at the now half naked vampire standing in front of her.
She watched him saunter across the room to the huge dresser that took up half a wall where he retrieved a pair of jeans from the contents of one drawer.
"There's a mini-bar over there, help yourself," he instructed before heading for the bathroom and leaving her victim to her own imagination.
And imagine she did; visualizing the probability of a naked Spike just behind that bathroom door and suddenly finding herself engulfed with conflicting feelings of embarrassment and desire, making her feel so very much her tender age.
That, she didn't like.
Telling herself to grow up, Buffy made her way to the mini-bar Spike had alluded to, finding it stocked with a variety of beverages of both the alcoholic and non-alcoholic persuasion.
Picking a diet coke from the ample selection, she flicked the tab open and wandered the large hotel suite while she waited for Spike to emerge. The door that obviously led to into the bedroom portion of the suite was slightly ajar, and Buffy couldn't harness the morbid curiosity that pulled her in that direction.
That was how Spike found her, peeking into the room, her whole body shouting out with obvious trepidation
"You expecting dead bodies to throw themselves out at you, or what?" he couldn't help but ask, amusement softening his voice
He smirked when a scream was strangled in her throat, her body whipping around to face him.
"God, you so suck, " she pouted, wiping the coke off of her arm that had become airborne during her frightened spin.
"Thought you were the Slayer and all. Able to sense a vamp's approach," he mocked, crossing his arms over his chest, his body language clearly challenging her to rebuke that statement.
Buffy drew herself up. "I was distracted," she admitted.
"Right," he drawled before sending her a knowing wink and crossing the room to grab a beer out of the bar. He obtained a menu from the desk top and held it out to her. "You hungry? Could order room service."
Feeling once more like she had stumbled into an alternate reality, Buffy shook her head. "Nope, I'm good. And if you suggest strawberries, I WILL kill you."
At the questioning tilt of his eyebrow, Buffy encompassed the opulent suite with a dramatic sweep of her hand. "This. This whole thing. It's just way too freakily like Pretty Woman."
Spike snorted. "Not bloody well likely. Can't say as I see you as an easy lay, pet."
Buffy found herself gaping at him in wonder. He was supposed to be evil? "Ok, I think that was a compliment," she replied warily, having been struck off balance once more.
She regarded him carefully as he moved with liquid grace to stand in front of her. Bringing his hand up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb slowly tracing the generous contours of her bottom lip, he nodded.
"Yeah, pet. That was a compliment."
*****
"Boy, aren't we all about the observiness," Xander commented with disgust, his eyes searching for his friend and the bleached blonde who was even MORE of an 80's wannabe now.
When the recorded music came blasting through the speakers following the brief delay of the stage act's disappearance, the occupants at the table expelled a united sigh of irritation.
"Where did they go?" Willow asked.
"I don't know, but I think I'm going to find out real fast," Xander muttered, slamming his chair back forcefully and jumping to his feet. Willow and Giles were mere seconds behind with a persecuted Angel the last to lumber to a full upright position.
Xander slipped his way through the crowd in pursuit of the door that led to the backstage area, familiar with its location thanks to his association with Oz.
He did fail to note the beefy guard standing just to one side of the door and as his hand reached for the knob, it was clamped in a vise of pain.
"What do you think you are doing?" the bald headed beefy bouncer asked.
Xander's nostrils flared with his sense of injustice. "Can I just say... OW." He tried to extract his wrist from the meaty grip. "Angel, little help here."
Angel sighed heavily and exchanged a look with the bouncer. Xander suddenly found his hand released and he clutched it tenderly against his chest, the very image of the unjustly manhandled.
"Can't let nobody back there."
Xander opened up his mouth to give a seething response when Giles sent him a sharp glare. Giving the large gentleman in front of him a polite smile, Giles announced, "We do appreciate your diligence to your job. However... we are searching for a friend of ours and we have reason to believe we will find her behind that door. If you could just allow us a moment, we will then be out of your way."
The bouncer stuck a toothpick in his mouth. "Nope. Nobody goes backstage. Boss's orders."
Giles's composure slipped just a fraction. "Yes well, perhaps we could speak with your employer?"
"He ain't here."
Xander threw his hands up in frustration. "He ain't here. Well, that's just great." He glared at the bouncer. "I think he needs to do a bit better job of screening potential employees. That Billy Idol freak? So not legal."
The Bouncer shrugged one beefy shoulder. "Don't matter."
Xander's eyes widened comically. "What do you MEAN it don't matter?"
Another shrug. "That Billy Idol freak? He owns the club."
tbc...
a/n-this was supposed to be a PWw1/2P but wouldn't you know it, Spike got some morals dammit. And he got plotty on top of it. HATE it when he does that.
Chapter 15
Buffy felt like a splayed specimen under a microscope, shifting uncomfortably under the unrelenting intensity of Spike's stare. He had managed to throw her off kilter once again within the span of a short bathroom trip.
He looked like Spike again. Gone were the leather pants, the chunky silver accessories; taking their place were the usual pair of tight, well worn, black jeans and smirking face. His Billy stage makeup that had caused little threat to his masculinity had been washed away, leaving a faint smudge of eyeliner under his eyes that should have looked out of place, yet merely seemed to add to his still hot gothic appeal.
Now that she was faced with this more familiar version of Spike, her edginess seemed to escalate. The gleaming, chiseled chest before her wasn't helping matters either, the temptation to reach out and explore those muscular planes and see exactly how tactile he was practically overwhelming.
Wrapping both hands around the can of soda to prevent an embarrassing touchy-feely exploration that she didn't think she was ready for, Buffy brought the diet coke to her lips and took a long swallow, the inside of her mouth suddenly dry and in need of being quenched.
Spike seemed bemused by her palpable nervousness and Buffy shot him a glare over the top of the can, watching as he crossed the room and obtained a t-shirt from the huge dresser. As he slipped the soft cotton garment over his head, Buffy found her eyes glued once more to the flesh on display, admiring the sinewy flexion his muscles took as he pulled the shirt down and absently tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.
Once his body was no longer readily available for her perusal, Buffy found herself better equipped to entertain the possibility of rational thought. "Red? You own a red t-shirt?"
His smirk was lazy and sultry. "Lot about me you don't know."
Buffy's sculpted brows rose in silent tribute to her agreement. "And there you go with the major understatements."
She got an cryptic look in lieu of a response, tensing with a sudden breathy anticipation as he suddenly stalked in her direction.
Except he didn't touch her, merely brushed right past her, choosing the lush leather couch to throw himself into. He was the very image of relaxed with his knees spread open obscenely as only males can get away with, and Buffy watched as Spike hooked his thumbs through the front belt loops so his crotch was effectively framed between his cupped hands.
Buffy found herself unable to pull her hungry eyes away from the artistic package in front of her then mentally berated herself. God, since when did she stare at guys crotches?
'Since you first saw Spike', her annoying little voice in her head told her.
Spike followed the focus of her gaze and a playful smile came out to play. He bucked his hips in her direction. "What do you say, Slayer? Want to come ride my pony?"
Buffy's eyes flew from his cupped package to his face. "Do I want to do WHAT?"
Spike had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing outright. He gestured in the direction of his crotch and leered at her. "You know, ride my pony." He lowered his voice so it was tainted with innuendo and lust. "Come on, pet. You KNOW you want to."
His laughter escaped in a sharp bark at Buffy's wide eyed look and the flush of color that erupted on the surface of her skin. He could hear her heart pumping away frantically in response to his bold innuendo and a small hint of guilt tried to worm its way into his conscience. A conscience he shouldn't possess but did. This Buffy was acting too much like the young girl she really was and something was trying to make him feel guilty about that.
Assuming a mocking pose, Spike regarded her. "I guess getting too close to the Big Bad Vampire scares you. Pity."
As expected, his words forced the little girl to retreat and brought the Slayer out. His Slayer.
"I kill your kind every night, Spike. I don't get scared at vampires." She looked suspiciously at his smiling face and scowled. "Especially you," she added petulantly.
Clapping his hand dramatically over his chest to ward off her weak verbal attack, Spike's smile widened. He loved looking at her like this, all fired up and pouty. With a sincerity that he was still surprised he possessed, he assured her, "I know you do pet, I'm just teasing. I'm a bad, rude man." He shrugged and tried to look unaffected. "Besides, I didn't bring you up here so you could jump my tight, hot body and have your wicked way with the Big Bad."
That comment failed to launch her in a fit of denial. And why was she disappointed?
"So why are we here?"
Spike patted the seat cushion next to him in a patronizing fashion and watched her as she lowered herself down, being careful not to touch him.
With a quick tug on her wrist he had her secured against his side, one arm wrapped tightly around her. She tensed momentarily, her eyes flashing into his yet found herself surrendering at the sound of Spike's subtle warning growl. Because sitting next to him on the couch?
It felt right. The hard length of his body against hers was comforting in a way she had never experienced, and she allowed herself to sink into him, once more ignoring the voice in her head that tried to tell how stupid she was being.
"You could have just asked, you know. Didn't have to be all Mr. Grabby Guy," she complained, determined to get the last word in.
Spike allowed her that one small victory, breathing in the heavenly scent of the girl that was tucked up against him; watching as she drew those spectacular legs under her in a misguided attempt to preserve her modesty from the short skirt she wore.
"So... uh... Why are we here?" Buffy finally asked as the silence extended a fraction too long.
"Thought that was obvious," he couldn't help but tease, studying her profile. Her face flushed crimson again and Spike slipped his index finger under her chin and brought it up so her eyes were locked on his own. "I was just teasing you again. I already told you pet, didn't bring you up here for sex."
What kind of an evil vampire was he anyway? Vampires didn't bring virginal Slayer to their rooms then tell them they weren't planning on seducing them. It was just WRONG. Sheesh.
"Ok, then what was with the stealthy get-away?"
Spike shrugged and released her chin. "Wanted to talk to you, is all."
"Oh my god, did you get your soul returned?" Buffy suddenly blurted, the thought just striking her.
The indignant look Spike gave her was almost comical. "No, I don't bloody well have my soul! Don't want it either."
"Then why?" Buffy persisted, getting the uncomfortable feeling she was heading in way wiggy territory.
The look in his eyes as he turned to capture her gaze once more was gripping. Then he did that evil thing and turned the tables on her, leaving her brain scrambling for something profound to say.
"So why are you here, Slayer? Shouldn't you be trying to stake me? It's what you're supposed to do, you know?"
Buffy crumpled under the penetrating weight of the intensity he was firing her way. "I-I... don't know. Lame, huh? Some Slayer I turned out to be. Giles is going to be so proud."
Again with the intense stare with a dark look thrown in. "You are a bloody amazing slayer. The best I've seen, so don't go selling yourself short, pet."
"Then why?" Buffy cringed at the pleading quality to her voice but patience was never her strong point. "I need to understand what's happening here. Because this? Something is definitely up here because I don't just blindly follow vamps who've tried to kill me to their hotel rooms, you know. So why do I know I can trust you?"
Spike sighed heavily. "Something happened between us, s'all I know. I thought it might have been just me, but well... obviously not. Don't really know what it is, but it's real." He paused to consider his next words, giving a slight derisive shake of the head when his thoughts fell short. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Buffy couldn't keep her eyes from rolling. "Didn't I just say that? Would I be here if I didn't?"
A ghost of a smile played over Spike's full lips. "Nah, guess not. I tried to ignore it, you know. At least for a little while. Figured I'd give you some time to grow up a little, hoping it would just go away in the meantime."
"Wait..." Buffy's eyes widened at she realized the significance of his statement. "Are you trying to tell me... you were WAITING for me?"
"Isn't that what I just said?" he replied, mocking her earlier words. "What, you think I just all of a sudden saw you sitting there with your da at my club and said to myself 'god damn, Spike. That's the Slayer there. Gee, I think I want her?' Sorry pet, didn't work that way."
Buffy bristled at the derisive tone in his voice than calmed herself. This WAS Spike after all, king of the sarcasm. "Ok, fine. I guess I just didn't really think about it."
Her eyes suddenly widened and her pulse rate increased accordingly as the full weight of what Spike had just revealed struck her. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
He didn't respond, merely continued to regard her with his assessing gaze that managed to warm her and set her on edge at the same time. She continued to endure his silence, somehow knowing instinctively that he was searching for the right words to use. Buffy reflected back on an earlier comment he had made that there had been something else he wanted when Drusilla left him
Taking a deep breath, Buffy summoned up the courage to ask a question.
"You stayed in LA... because of me?"
Again with the silence but the quirk of his lips surprisingly told her the answer. Buffy drew in a slow breath and forgot to release it as she stared at a spot on the floor. The deja'vu of his club to the Bronze hadn't been in her head. "You made your club look like the Bronze?"
"Wanted it to remind me of you," Spike replied softly, and Buffy knew instinctively that she could do more damage to this proud creature sitting beside her with words at this moment than with any manner of weapon.
But mocking his admission was the last thing on her mind, and Buffy felt her heart officially become a pile of mush. She tried to remember when her feelings for Spike had changed, getting herself lost in a vivid maze of memories that involved turbulent fights to the death and not-so-subtle innuendo.
It took her a moment to realize Spike was talking again and she shook off the lingering tendrils of her reminiscing to attempt to figure what he was referring to. Then she got it.
The spell to restore Drusilla.
"Huh? Wait, repeat that," she requested, now giving Spike her full attention.
The look of annoyance he shot her was familiar. "Didn't mean to interrupt your wool-gathering. Was just saying that I think the spell I did for Drusilla had something to do with this."
tbc
a/n-warning, not a lot happens in this chapter, so no reviews telling me that well, absolutely nothing happened. *coughbuffyfancough*
Chapter 16
A sense of sadness settled over Buffy. She should have known. Anything that caused her any happiness should always be suspect, usually the result of something mystical or the supernatural, a reoccurring theme in her life.
"What are you thinking?" Spike had expected blustering denial or at least a touch of anger at his revelation, not this shimmering regret he could feel pouring off her.
Buffy didn't even pretend to misunderstand as she offered him a bittersweet smile. "I guess I'm just kind of bummed that all of this is because of a spell. Because you and me? Totally weird and wrong on so many levels, but it felt right. Guess I know why now, huh?" she admitted. "It just pisses me off that I can never really trust my feelings to be coming from ME and not the result of some outside interference."
Spike's nostrils flared in response. "S'not exactly what I said. Well ok, maybe it is, but that isn't what I bloody well meant." Spike sighed heavily, taking a moment to choose his next words. "Remember the last time we saw each other? When you were trying to untie Peaches and I came up and knocked you away?"
Buffy nodded warily, that exact moment forever etched at the root of her self-denial.
"Well, did you feel anything... weird?"
Buffy's next breath caught in her throat as her mind went screaming back to that last day she had seen Spike in Sunnydale. A time when nothing had seemed more important than getting Angel away from Spike's evil clutches, even though Buffy was aware that Spike's reason for sacrificing Angel were not motivated by pure selfish intent. Even then, she had given him credit for doing what it took for the one he loved.
Or did.
She had felt something. As she was trying to free Angel, Spike's fingers had brushed against hers before he had grabbed her shirt and tossed her away. She may have denied it then and was still trying to do a good job of denying it now; but the truth was she did remember the sudden spark that arced the moment he had grabbed her. She had chalked it up to static electricity or residual spelly stuff, even though Angel and the ho-bag weren't all glowy anymore.
Confusion began to give way to anger. "What happened?" she asked.
He gave her a wry smile. "We got caught in the backlash of the spell."
'So this IS a spell," she accused pointing her finger at him, finding the realization...painful.
"No! I told you it's not. Look, the spell I did was a restoration spell, ok? Your Watcher boy probably told you all about it. Anyway, after Dru left me for that Julio git and I was alone to finally admit that something HAD happened to me in Sunnyhell, I consulted a whole slew of mystics, psychics, whatever. I was furious." Spike jumped to his feet and began pacing, taking his agitation out on the path he stalked. "I bloody well ate my way through the lot of them because they weren't telling me what I wanted to hear. I just.. just wanted to get you out of my bleedin head."
"But each one only confirmed that there was nothing mystical about my feelings. No traces of any residual magics lingered that would explain this gaping hole in my soddin heart that only YOU could fill."
"So what DID the spell do, " Buffy asked in a quietly lethal voice, finding her own guard up. "What did it restore?"
"That's the kicker. Didn't restore anything. It unlocked."
'What? God, you sound like Giles! Why can't you just tell me without all the little riddles and secret messages?"
Thoroughly agitated, Spike ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a slew of messed up spikes in its wake. Buffy defiantly stared him down, willing him to answer her. What was so hard about telling her what the spell actually did? Why couldn't her life EVER be simple?
He stopped suddenly and turned intense stormy eyes in her direction. "Let me ask you a question, pet. The first time you saw me...what was your gut reaction?"
"That you were a vampire and I was going to kill you." Buffy replied succinctly, not missing a beat.
Spike growled harshly, his eyes flashing. "The truth now. I'm being honest with you, least you can do is give me the same bloody courtesy. I'll ask again. The first time you laid your eyes on me, what ran through your head?"
Buffy ducked her head to get away from his searching eyes. "I thought you were, uh..." The comely blush that graced her face finished her response.
With a satisfied smirk, Spike tucked his tongue behind his front teeth and nodded knowingly. "Now that's a bit more like it. S'what I figured, being able to smell you and all."
"Ew, gross Spike!"
"Yeah, I know. But, that was pretty much my reaction when I first saw you there at the Bronze. There was heat there, pet. Right from the start."
Buffy didn't even bother denying it. "Ok, so maybe I DID think you were a major hottie. I'm still all with the confused here. What exactly are you trying to say?"
"From what I've been able to suss out, the backlash from the spell caused our, uh,..." This time it was Spike who was unable to finish his sentence, breaking off in mid-sentence as he resumed his restless prowling.
"God Spike, would you stop making with the cryptic and spit it out already?" Buffy exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
"Give me a soddin' moment," he grumbled, obviously engaged in a mental battle of wills.
Buffy threw her hands up in frustration. The evening was not progressing like she had pictured, not in the least. "Ok fine, if you're going to be all with the cryptic guy, let's see if I can figure this out." Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she watched the pacing vampire. Gone was the cocky demeanor she was used to dealing with; insecurity now firmly in its place. This was a side of Spike she had never seen.
Buffy tried to think if anything had been different after the spell, and groaned as her walls of denial came crumbling down
She had missed Spike. When he had left, she had thought about him way too much, twisting it around in her head so that the mere thought of his name sparked a violent reaction. Even as vehemently as she had denied the miss-age, that alone didn't make it any less true.
"You said the backlash unlocked something. What did it unlock?"
Spike ceased his pacing momentarily to give her a ghost of a smile. "It took the blinders off, pet. Made us face what... or who we truly desired." He snorted. "Or some form of soddin' mystical bullshit."
Her reaction was not what he had expected. At the very least, he figured there would be an argument spewing forth from her sassy mouth. However it was the resounding laughter that filled the hotel suite that shocked him. Spike watched her with wary eyes as she sank to the floor, leaning back against the couch as rich peals of mirth spilled from her lips.
"Oh god, spike. That is about the lamest thing I've ever heard," she finally gasped.
Spike glared at her. "Also happens to be the bloody truth."
There was a small hiccup followed by a heavy sigh as Buffy finally managed to bring herself under control, fully aware of the volatile vampire who was practically gnashing his teeth at her.
"Yeah, I know," she admitted softly. "But come on, it's funny. Think about it. Only YOU would do a spell to save the supposed love of your life with the end result having to make you face up to your denial and admit that you have the total hots for your mortal enemy."
"It's more than just the hots," Spike grumbled, her laughter stinging. "And I'm not the only one lusting after their mortal enemy, now am I?"
"Hey, don't get grumbly with me, Mr. Impulsive Guy. This isn't MY fault. YOU'RE the one who did the spell." Buffy jumped to her feet and squared off, her indignation fueling her ire.
"I did what I had to do," Spike retorted heatedly, his own frustrations over the situation rising to the fore.
"And YOU were the one who grabbed ME which caused this little unlocking of your hearts' desire thing, right? So there." Buffy stopped suddenly and asked, "Wait, why are we even fighting over this? It doesn't even matter. We've got these feelings. Now we just have to deal. Right?"
"You started it," Spike mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets.
Buffy snorted derisively and threw herself back down on the couch. "Come here, you big baby." She patted the spot next to her.
Spike didn't settle for sitting next to her however, and Buffy suddenly found herself with a vampire using her lap as a pillow. A small smile found its way to her lips at his antics and her fingers slid through his hair almost of their own accord.
"It's been bloody awful, you know," Spike finally said. "Wanting you. Knowing how wrong it was to bloody want you. Then realizing I had to wait for you."
Buffy realized at that moment exactly what Spike had done. For her.
tbc.
|
