Buffy pounded up the stairs to the bedroom. There was no way in Hell he was leaving the house like that without her. She trusted Spike. She really trusted Spike.
It was every girl in Los Angeles she didn't trust.
And he was no going there dressed up like walking sex personified without a clear brand of Buffy Ownership.
Punk, punk, punk, Buffy chanted mentally, tossing her clothes around.
Her wardrobe took up three quarters of Spike's closet and two of his dresser drawers. Why did all her clothes scream 'nice girl'?
And then she found it. The black leather skirt she'd bought at the mall. Whipping off her Yummy Sushi pajamas she pulled it on and found an appropriate push up bra.
Top, top, top, Buffy routed through the top shelf. Flowers: A world of 'no.' why do I own a shirt that says, 'Princess'?
Finding the shirt Spike had made for her, she sighed. It would have to do. Black with white gothic letters, “And That's Mistress Bitch To You.”
She really needed to go shopping while they were in L.A.
Shoes for Buffy, at least, were never a problem.
They weren't Doc Marten's but they were close enough.
Make-up, Make-up, Make-up, Buffy grabbed her cosmetics case, a big bag she stuffed with toiletries and spare clothes and barreled down the stairs.
I'll just have to do it in the car, she thought.
* * *
Spike stared as his precious girl came down the stairs looking like one from the wrong side of the tracks.
It wasn't that it didn't turn him on because it was incredibly hot. Buffy could be wearing a burlap sack and it would turn him on.
But he didn't like the thought of her changing herself for him in any way.
She didn't look exactly comfortable. She kept pulling at the short skirt as they walked out to the car.
“Are you sure you want to come, love?” Spike asked, opening her door for her.
“I'm not bad enough, am I? To go to your club?” Buffy asked, suddenly looking embarrassed.
“It's definitely not that, pet. You look like you'd give Garbage a run for their money.” Spike smirked, “Its just-if you don't want to come you don't have to-“
“I really hope the Garbage thing was a compliment.” Buffy said dryly.
“It's a group, pet. I'll lend you Version 2.0 and Bleed Like Me when we get back.”
“And I'm so wanting to go. It's not every day you get to see your boyfriend in his natural element. How many boring nights have you spent at the Bronze with me? I think I can handle one L.A club you like.” Buffy started putting on her foundation in the rearview mirror, “Come on, we don't have all night.”
* * *
Spike had been thrilled at first when she mentioned the bit about seeing him in his natural element. But the thrill faded into a sort of nausea when he thought about why he was really going.
He hadn't been totally honest with Buffy. The Bender wasn't a serious punk club. He'd been to quite a few more hardcore. It did play a lot of punk music and a lot of punks showed up.
But they played metal and Alternative, too. They even had the occasional Rock Night. He'd seen Nirvana play there in 1989.
He'd been a bit obsessed with Kurt Cobain. Dru had wanted to turn him. They'd never gotten around to it and before long the guy had shot himself four years later.
Spike had always wondered how differently things could have gone. The guy hadn't been happy alive anyway.
He rolled his eyes at the thought. Hello! Holy Vampire on a mission from God, remember? Really not supposed to be lamenting NOT creating another killing machine.
Well, he wasn't exactly on the mission at the moment, but he'd be right back on the wagon when they got back.
In the meantime, it was amateur night and his buddies had convinced him to give it a go. He was scheduled for a set in three hours.
And now Buffy was going to be there in the audience watching him.
Oh God.
* * *
Buffy looked up from her eyeliner when the car swerved, “Spike, this takes precision. The car and the dancing? Not helping! I could put an eye out. Do you want to go out with someone with an eye patch? The pirate jokes would never end.”
“Sorry, pet. “ Spike swallowed.
* * *
I can so handle this, Buffy thought. The club wasn't nearly as loud as she thought it was going to be. There were people dressed better than she was, but a lot more of them were dressed worse.
I can work with that, she thought letting Spike guide her to a table near the stage.
This isn't scary at all.
Then the next set started.
“ARE YOU MOTHERFUCKING READY
FOR THE NEW SHIT?
STAND UP AN ADMIT, EVERYBODY!
THIS IS THE NEW SHIT!
STAND UP AND ADMIT!”
Buffy swallowed.
O.K, maybe it was a little scary.
* * *
Spike shook his head thinking of all the brilliance Marilyn Manson was capable of and this was the song this guy chose to sing to represent it?
Personally, thinking of how it related to his relationship with Dru, he would have gone with 'Tourniquet'.
Then he remembered he was supposed to follow this act and his stomach returned to somewhere near his feet.
He signaled a waitress and asked Buffy what she wanted to drink.
“Something girly.” Buffy gave him a cherry lip-gloss smile and he ordered her a White Russian.
“Listen, love. I have to go do this thing. I'll be back in about ten minutes. Just sit tight, O.K?” Spike swallowed, memorizing her face just in case she was too ashamed to be seen with him after this.
Oh God, what if she laughed? Spike squashed the thought and kissed her forehead. She watched him go with a confused expression.
* * *
Spike found Josh, Derrick, and Josh's cousin 'Nothing' backstage.
“Man, I though your were going to be late, where were you?” Josh asked nervously, watching the audience.
“I made it didn't I?” Spike wished deeply that he hadn't quit smoking.
Then the intercom announced them, and Spike was glad that he had. He would have inhaled the cigarette for sure.
* * *
Getting up on stage and adjusting the microphone, Spike was aware of two things.
The light was incredibly bright and hot.
And a weird energy was just taking him over.
It was like when he was first turned and he realized he could run forever without getting tired. Every part of him was screaming to do something and that he was in the right place to do it.
Everything faded to black in his mind but the drums behind him.
* * *
“The world is a vampire.
Sent to drain-ain-aiiin.
Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames.
And what do I get for all my pain-ain-aiiin?
Betrayed desires and a piece of game.
Even though I know- I suppose I'll show.
All my cool and cold-like old job.
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage!
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage!
Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved.
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage!
Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal.
But can you fake it for just one more show?
And what do you want, I want to change.
And what have you got when you feel the same.”
* * *
As Spike spiraled into the next chorus, Buffy felt electric. He was riveting. Everything about him glowed when he was up there.
It took her a few moments to realize everyone else in the room felt the same way. She looked around. All the attention in the room was focused eerily on the stage as her boyfriend performed his rock epic. A jolt of jealous went through her.
Spike belonged to her, it wasn't right that everyone got to see this amazing part of him, too.
I would have missed this if I hadn't come, she thought shakily.
* * *
“Tell me I'm the only one.
Tell me there's not other one.
Jesus was an only son.
Tell me I'm the chosen one.
Jesus was the only one for you.
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
The someone will say what is lost can never be saved.
Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage.
And I still believe that I cannot be saved.”
* * *
The world exploded around Buffy. The entire room was filled with a torrent of cheering. She couldn't see the stage anymore, she wasn't tall and half the room surged in front of her.
She wanted him to see her cheering for him. She wanted him to know how proud she was and how incredible he sounded.
But when she finally caught sight, he didn't even seem to be aware of the applause at all. He was calmly readjusting the microphone and pulling an acoustic guitar in front of him.
“Um, I know a lot of you probably don't listen to the type of music I'm about to sing. I don't like a lot of it myself, but the guy who wrote this song deserves everything I can do for it. This is Johnny Cash.” Spike licked his lips and started to play.
* * *
The room was dead silent. Spike's guitar was the only thing audible. Buffy could hear her own heartbeat.
“I hear the train a'comin', a'rollin' 'round the bend. I ain't seen the sun shine since I don't know when.
I'm stuck in Folsom Prison and time keeps dragging on.
And that train keep a'rollin' on down to San Anton.
When I was a baby, my mama told me, “Son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns. But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.
And when I hear that train a'blowin' I hang my head and cry-“
* * *
Buffy could only grasp at explanations for what happened next. Giles would insist it was the bond they had created so recently. Tara would say it was the magic Spike could create through music, telling you why he was singing that song.
But Buffy was profoundly grateful for it to have happened.
One moment she was sitting in the club listening to Spike, the next she was standing in a bedroom watching him wake up paralyzed for the first time.
It was like a physical blow watching his panic and his despair and for the first time she knew that he hadn't been sure he would ever walk again.
She watched him go through that alone, feeling desperate to comfort him somehow, but this was a memory and no comfort could be given or received.
Dru came to him eventually, but by that time the mask had fallen back into place.
I did this to him, she thought. Every bad thing he ever did to her paled in comparison suddenly.
Buffy thought maybe the nightmare would end then. But it only began when Angelus came back.
* * *
Throughout the whole ordeal, Buffy heard the song being sung in the background and when she came back to the real world, Spike was finishing up to another round of thunderous accolade.
Buffy watched him go backstage in a daze. She shook off the aftereffects of her little trip and sipped her drink shakily.
“Buffy? What are you doing here? Faith doesn't deserve your persecution, too. I'm trying to get her to turn herself into the authorities.”
Buffy turned sharply and came face to face with a nightmare.
“Angel? What are you talking about?” Buffy forced herself to stop reaching for the stake in her waistband. That was a long time ago…
Two years…
He has a soul now…
He raped him. The bastard held him down when he was hurt and couldn't even MOVE and raped him…
He's a champion for the Powers…
He's an evil, sadistic son of a bitch and he should be dust.
He helps people…
When he hasn't gotten too happy. He raped him with a knife dipped in holy water.
“Angel.” Buffy said through clenched teeth, “I don't know what you're doing here and I couldn't care less what Faith is doing. If you don't get away from me right now-“
“Buffy!” Buffy turned to see an elated Spike making his way through the crowd.
Buffy turned back to see Angel growing pale. Good, I hope you squirm you stupid-“
“Peaches.” She heard Spike's voice grow cold and dead.
A sudden flash of insight hit her. She'd always wondered why he called Angel that. God she wished she didn't know.
“Spike.” Angel's voice was half-pleading, half- babbling, “What are you doing here?”
He made him suck his dick. He forced him down on his knees and made him suck him off. Spike threw it back into his face. Said he tasted like peaches and called him that to say that he, Spike, wasn't broken. Not yet and not ever.
“I'm here with my girl. Don't you have somewhere better to be?”
Angel looked from one to the other. Spike's closed face to Buffy's openly hostile one, “Yeah, I'm looking for Faith. Let me no if you see her, O.K?”
And he was gone.
Buffy smirked. That was one thing he was good at, at least.
* * *
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