Chapter 2
A/N: Club Exit is a real club in Chicago. I don’t own it, but I did try and get a job there once.
Spike stared at the crowded dance floor. How the bloody hell was he supposed to find this girl? He sensed four Slayers and fifteen vampires in his immediate area and he only had a vague description of the chit he was looking for, a little over five feet tall with blonde hair and hazel eyes. Well, at least the blonde part would help. Club Exit was Chicago’s resident punk/goth club and most of the girls had dyed their hair either black or hot pink. Spike tapped his foot to the beat of the music. Least the chit had good taste in clubs.
A sudden awareness rolled over Spike, like a homing beacon had clicked on and called out his name, and he found his attention shifting to the other side of the dance floor. In the far corner was a small, blonde girl dancing with some bald, biker. Her hair fell in waves just below her shoulders and she was wearing a short, black bondage skirt with a black corset top. Knee-high black boots rounded off the outfit.
Spike watched as she smiled, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and ran her hands down the man’s back. The man was so entranced in her that he failed to notice that her hands had reached into his pants pocket and emerged holding a wad of cash. Spike snorted. The bloke had one of those large chains that are supposed to stop pickpockets attached to his wallet. Apparently, the chain hadn’t done him any good or the girl was a mastermind thief. Spike was betting on the second one.
The song changed to some new industrial type band, and Spike watched as the blond excused herself and made her way across the dance floor and down the stairs to the first level. He followed at a safe distance as she made her way to the last seat at the bar. She sat down, her left side facing the bar, right side facing the door and her back against the wall. The bar tender brought her a drink without her asking and Spike wondered how often she came to the club.
He approached her slowly, letting her senses pick him up. Having her run would do him no good. Not that he couldn’t catch her, just be a pain in the arse.
She looked up when she felt him approached and watched him make his way over, calmly sipping her drink the whole while.
“’Lo, luv,” he said, smoothly.
“Hello,” she said, softly, putting her diet Coke back down on the bar.
Spike listened to the increase of her heart rate and gave her his patented smirk as he pretended to glance her over. “Name’s Spike.”
“Really? What kind of name is Spike?” she asked as she played with the locket around her neck.
Spike frowned. She seemed to be teasing him. Had he met her before? His eyes were drawn to the locket that she was fiddling with. It looked familiar. “It’s a name,” he answered more harshly than he meant to. “You got a name, luv?”
He caught a flash of pain and disappointment in her eyes before she shifted her gaze to the bar in front of her, moving both hands around her plastic cup of pop.
“Buffy,” she said, flatly as she took a large swallow of Diet Coke.
“And you made fun of my name when your name is Buffy? That’s like the pot calling the kettle black there, pet. Where’d you get a name like that?”
“Where did you get a name like Spike?” She countered.
“Torturing victims with railroad spikes,” Spike answered. He paused; he hadn’t meant to tell her that. Why had he said that?
“No,” she said.
“No, what?” Spike asked. No, she didn’t believe him? She was a Slayer; she should be able to sense that he was a vampire. Why was she talking to him at all?
Buffy sighed and swiveled on her bar stool to face him. “No, I will not go with you to the Watcher’s Council. Now, kindly tell Mr. Giles and all his little flunkies to leave me alone! I have no wish to have anything to do with the Council.”
“How’d you know that I was here for the Council and not some rogue vampire about to rip your throat out?”
“You wouldn’t rip my throat out, you have your soul. Besides, you of all people should know how small the demon world is. News of a souled vampire working with the Council of Watchers travels fast, especially one that claims to be in love with a Slayer.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. How did this chit know so much about him? He needed to find out. Spike leaned forward, smirking when he heard her breath hitch at his close proximity. “Don’t care if you go or not. More interested in how you know who I am and what the Watcher’s Council is. You’ve got their panties all bunched up wondering who and what you are.”
“What do you think?” she asked quietly.
Spike stepped back, placed a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and exhaled a long stream of smoke before answering. “Don’t rightly know. My senses say Slayer but I can feel magic in you, strong magic. ‘M guessing that you were a witch, probably training at some coven, and then became a Slayer when Red’s spell went through to defeat the First two years ago. ”
“Red is the witch that came to see me? She said her name was Willow.”
Spike shrugged. “It is, but I call her Red. Am I right, then?”
Buffy shook her head. “You are very, very wrong.” She stood up from the bar. “Good-bye…Spike.”
Suddenly, Spike did not want her to go. The moment she started to walk away, he felt as though someone had punched him in the gut and taken away some much needed air. There was something about this girl.
“Wait,” he called after her. To his surprise, she actually paused and let him catch up with her. “Lot of nasties lurking about. Best let me walk you home. Not a good neighborhood, this.”
She smiled and linked her right arm through his left. “If you wish.”
XXX
|
