Random Dances
by Pukajen

1.

Life was not good. Life was hard, it was cruel, unforgiving, and mocking. Life hurt. The numbness that had dulled a lot of the pain when Buffy had left Sunnydale was thinning. Every day more and more pain crept in until sometimes it hurt too much to breathe. Death would have been easier, but there was some stubborn part of her that refused to let her take her own life. Even when fighting she gave it her all. She might have just been going through the motions, but her motions were better then anything she had come across in Los Angeles so far.

She’d lied about her age, her name, and no one had really cared to inquire too closely about the truth. The dive where she worked didn’t require a social security number, references or even a phone number where she could be reached. But then not many places that paid cash did.

The job was mindless, respectively numbing, but required just enough attention that her mind couldn’t wander too far, couldn’t wander back to Sunny-

“Orders up. Pay attention Anne, the customers don’t wanna eat cold food,” called Bob, the short order cook.

“They don’t want to eat hot food here either, not if they know what’s good for them,” Buffy muttered as she picked up the order of slimy eggs, sunny-side up, grey hash browns, and limp bacon. With a pasted on smile she set plate down in front of a man wearing enough cologne to make her gag.

“Thanks, baby. Want to join me? I could buy you dinner and we could get to know each other.” His voice oozed out, surrounding her like his cheap cologne, instantly making Buffy want a shower.

“Thanks but I have other customers to look after.” The man grabbed her wrist and pointedly looked around the empty diner.

“There ain’t no one here but you and me baby. Come sit down with me and have a talk. Get to know each other.” He tugged on her wrist, trying to pull her on the bench beside him.

If not for her Slayer strength, she would have ended up in an ungainly heap sprawled across his lab. As it was, she barely stayed upright.

“Listen buddy, if you don’t let go right now you’re really not gonna like the results.” Buffy tugged her arm, trying to free it without using too much force.

“Sure thing babe.” If she hadn’t been so tired, become so complacent about what was going on around her, she would have caught the malevolent look in his eyes, the tensing of muscles before an attack.

As it was, it was only her training and Slayer skills that stopped her from getting hurt. Or worse.

It was instinctive to react to the attack she caught out of the corner of her eye. To block the hand coming at her with a knife; to punch her assailant in the nose. She didn’t pull any of her punches and as a result the man ended up in a crumpled heap on the floor screaming in agony, blood coursing down his face, his hand at an unnatural angle from his arm.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bob was looking at her in shock and horror. “What the fuck have you done Anne?”

“He attacked me Bob. It wasn’t my fault.” Buffy cringed at how stupid that sounded. God, the man was lying on the floor in an ever-growing pool of his own blood, wrist clearly broken and there she stood, not a mark on her.

“Just get out of here before there’s any more trouble.” Buffy’s insides froze.

“Bob, he attacked me! I had to defend myself, what was I supposed to do let him stab me?” She needed the money, there was no food left in her dank apartment, the electrical bill had come in and rent was due in a week and a half. She might live in one of the crappiest areas of the Hollywood, but it wasn’t Compton or East LA or the streets, and she didn’t want to look for another place.

“Anne, you need to leave before anyone sees what you’ve done.” The grime covered clock above the kitchen window read 12:47. In less than an hour drunken club goers would start to trickle their way into the diner, hoping that some food would sober them up.

“I need this job. Please Bob.” In the months since she’d left Sunnydale, Buffy had come to understand just how unforgiving life could be and that money did indeed make the world go round.

“Listen kid I like you, I wish I could help you out, but I’m gonna have to call an ambulance for him.” The man was now just letting out pathetic whimpers, now and then, a moan. “The cops’ll come and they’ll wanna know what went down. It’ll be best for all of us if you just go.”

Bob made his way over to the register and pulled out a handful of bills. He motioned for Buffy to come to him.

“Here take these, don’t ever come back here. Have a nice life kid.” Buffy looked down at the fives, tens and three twenties in her hand. It was more then she would have made that night in tips.

Wordlessly she went to the women’s bathroom, changing from her uniform into her street clothes. The nearing wail of sirens hurried Buffy along. Deciding that slipping out the back door, despite the rank smell of the alley, was the better plan.

“This is just great,” Buffy mumbled grimacing in disgust as something squished underfoot. “Fucking fantastic.”

Not wanting to have to think about where her next meal was going to come for or how in the hell she was going to get another job to pay rent, Buffy headed to a divvy club known as the Pit. The music was harsh, the drinks crap, and the clientele questionable at best, but the bouncers never asked for ID, nor her dance partners her name and life story.

Burnt out R, A, Z and P were the only remaining letters of the neon sign that hung above the entrance of the Pit. Tonight Buffy decided that at one time the sign had read ‘Read, Aim, ZaP!” Not one of her best she mused, nodding to bouncer who erroneously carried the moniker of Tiny.

Mentally calculating how much money Bob had given her adding it to what she had stashed away at home Buffy decided that there was no way in hell she could make rent and eat and pay the electrical bill. Tequila it was.

“Hey Annie, I thought you were working tonight.” The man behind the bar poured her a shot as she slid onto a barstool.

“Yeah not so much any more. I got fired.” Tom raised an eyebrow. “Some guy pulled a knife on me so I broke his nose. Bob seems to think I overreacted.” She slammed the shot back making a face. “He paid me for the night, but it’s not enough to pay rent next week, so fuck it. I’m getting trashed tonight and I’ll figure it out tomorrow.” As she spoke he refilled her glass and poured himself a shot. Clinking glasses the both tossed back the cheap tequila.

“You know we could use a cocktail waitress here on Friday and Saturday nights who stays sober. You’ll get twenty bucks as the start of the night; whatever tips you make on that is what you take home.” Buffy thought about mentioning that she and 21 were quite a few years away from meeting up, but money was money and if Tom wasn’t going to ask then she wasn’t going to volunteer.

“You got yourself a deal Tom.” Buffy pushed herself up on the bar, leaning over to kiss Tom on the cheek. “But tonight I’m gonna dance. And drink some more of your fine tequila.”

Slamming back another shot Buffy waved at Tom and made her way to the dance floor. The Pit wasn’t big; the dance floor could easily have fit into the downstairs of her mom’s house. But there was no cover on Wednesday nights and drink specials. The dance floor crowded, but not packed.

Buffy felt the deep throb of the music start to echo throughout her body, moving slowly at first then more fluidly as the both the tequila and music started to cloud her mind. Bodies pressed up against her, some firmer then others. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the movement and feel of the music.

Now and then someone would press up close dancing with her, their hands trying to get her to move with them. Buffy would dance with them for a time, but in the end none of them felt right and she let the natural ebb and flow of the bodies around her move her along.

Some nights her spidey-sense would tingle, but she ignored it. There was another Slayer somewhere whose job it was to kill and fight and lose. She was done; if there was a problem in LA then the Slayer would be sent here to deal with it. It wasn’t her problem anymore.

A shiver coursed through her body despite senses that were dulled by tequila and the pulsating beat letting her know that there was a vampire near. As long as it didn’t bug her she was quite happy to ignore it.

She danced on, happily fuzzy from the alcohol. A big hand wrapped around her waist pulling her back trying to align her body, get her to follow his lead. Buffy was not in the mood and pulled away. Tonight she just wanted to dance with the music.

The hand grabbed her again much more forcefully this time. Without losing her rhythm, Buffy jerked her elbow backwards into the guy’s solar plexus. He crumpled to the floor behind her and Buffy let the crowd swallow her. The guy would be fine, she’d not even come close to using her full strength. He’d have a nice bruise tomorrow, but too bad for him.

Another hand slid down her back, cupping her hip, and Buffy shivered at the light touch, wondering what the owner of the hand would look like. She kept her eyes firmly shut, imagining him blond hair, blue eyes, lithe body.

No that was wrong, brown hair, brown eyes, big body. That was what she was supposed to be thinking of. But that way lay swords and hell and pain and badness, so back to blond.

The hand on her hip slid around to her stomach, finger idly toying with the button of her jeans. Slowly, with surprising strength, Buffy was pulled backwards until her back met up with the guy’s chest.

The hand at her waist pressed her tighter to his body until they were touching from mid thigh to where her head rested against his shoulder. A shiver ran through Buffy as the guy’s left hand came to rest on her left hip, slowly caressing her.

It was not unusual for Buffy to dance with random guys at the club, but none had ever made her feel this alive. She wanted to turn around, see what he looked like, find out what he would do if she kissed him. Yet the illusion would probably shatter under closer examination, so for the moment Buffy was happy just to feel the music and let the man behind her guide her body.

Time had ceased to matter, for all Buffy knew they could have been dancing together for five minutes or an hour. His hands had slowly started to move over her, yet never going anywhere that would have her pulling away. The more his hands moved over her the more she melted into him. Her head rested comfortably on the crook of his shoulder and neck, her hands on his thighs just below his ass.

Without her noticing one of his hands had slipped under her shirt and was lazily making its way up to her breasts. He trailed his fingers along the bottom of her bra before lighting raking his nails down her taut stomach.

Buffy’s head lolled to the side in a subconscious invitation, one that wasn’t ignored. Butterfly kisses made their way along her throat, stopping where neck met shoulder. Teeth gently nibbled at the juncture there. Fear and arousal shot through Buffy arching her back away from the man at the same time thrusting her ass firmly against his growing arousal.

The beat of the music pounded on and no one seemed to notice or care what was going on around them.

This time the hand didn’t stop as it boldly came up to cup her left breast, thumb casually flicking over her hardening nipple. Buffy’s cry was lost in the wail of the singer’s. Roughly her bra was pulled down enough to free her breast, only to have it covered by his hand. A brief thought of fleeing entered her befuddled brain, but as if he sensed where her mind was going his hands tightened over her body holding her firmly against him.

His hips ground against her ass his erection now pressing firmly against. Giving up all rational thought Buffy let the sensations coursing through her body take over. She had never felt this way before, firmly ignoring the voice that asked what Angel would have thought of her. Fuck him, he’d taught her enough about pain and suffering and what love and sex were supposed to be. Let this anonymous guy teach her about pleasure without pain.

Moving her hands up to his ass, she pressed him more firmly to her. Their hips thrust together in time to the beat, her hands clasped rhythmically on his ass. His hand continued to toy with her breast, rolling her nipple between forefinger and thumb, then letting it go. His fingers traced languid circles around her hard nipple, getting almost close enough to touch before pulling away.

Buffy felt bereft as his hand suddenly left her breast to travel down to her stomach. Wanting to know why he stopped, she tried to turn around, but found herself firmly anchored.

His right hand moved slowly back and forth, trailing along the waistband of her jeans, then slowly slipped beneath the denim. Buffy froze, not sure she wanted to keep going, but his left hand came up to her breast again, gently cupping her, thumb toying with the rock hard nipple.

Between the rock hard erection pressing from behind and the caressing fingers in front both urging her to move, Buffy again began to sway to the music.

Clever fingers moved her panties aside and slowly ran over her slick folds. Buffy whimpered and tried to move with his fingers, desperately seeking a harder, deeper touch. She felt rather then heard a rumble of satisfaction from deep within his chest when he thrust a finger deep within her, finding her soaking wet.

A second finger joined the first, stretching Buffy in the most amazing way. She was putty in his arms, the only thing keeping her upright were his fingers deep inside her and his hands that continued to toy with her breast.

The liquid feeling coursing through her veins was quickly being replaced by a tension she had never felt before. Buffy was almost frantic now, moving jerkily against his hands having completely lost the ability to follow the music.

Buffy was glad that the music was loud enough to cover her moans of pleasure when his thumb came up to press firmly against her clit. He held them both still for a moment before moving his thumb in tight circles around her clit. His hips thrust in tandem with his fingers, his mouth latched onto her shoulder, sucking hard.

The orgasm that crashed over Buffy was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She lost all ability to think, to even hold herself upright as wave upon wave rolled over her, the pleasure like nothing she had ever felt before.

“Well now that was an interesting experience wasn’t, luv?”

Buffy froze, her body still trembling with pleasure, though now it was laced with fear. Random Dances
Well this was supposed to be short and sweet, or you know short and hot, but whatever it keeps growing. I have an outline now and everything. Hope to get out at least a chapter a day, it'll all depend on work and my betas availability.



“What’s say you the Slayer and William the Bloody go and have a nice little chat about what brings you to the city of angels without Angel.”

If she had the ability she would have killed him right then and there, not staked, but killed him slowly and painfully. His words cut her to the quick; images of the sword sliding into Angel, of him getting sucked to Hell crashed over Buffy. She whimpered, but this time it was not from pleasure so much as from the pain that was smothering her in waves.

What would her friends back in Sunnydale think of her now? Giles? God, Angel was in Hell and here she was getting it on on the dance floor with Spike. She wasn’t sure which was worse; the fact that she had come on the dance floor with anonymous hands running over her body or that in the end it had been Spike that had made her come so hard.

The unknown versus the known and hated.

“Let me go Spike.” Buffy’s voice was low, shaking with anger, fear, sorrow and a host of other emotions she didn’t have the time nor the will to identify.

“No, I don’t think so Slayer. You and me got some unfinished business.” Spike slowly rubbed his groin against her, he was still hard as a rock.

“Spike there is no way I’m finishing anything for you. Unless you want me to finish your pitiful life with a –” A moan cut off whatever she had been about to say.

“Now that’s not very nice. Especially with my fingers still buried deep in you hot little,” Buffy twisted her neck around, glaring. “What? I was gonna say body.”

“Just leave me alone Spike. I’m not in the mood for your crap.” She tried to pull away from him again, but there was no way to get out of the embrace. Any time she tried he would move his hand, gently caressing her breast, moving his fingers inside of her in a way that made her knees go weak.

“I don’t know, luv. You seemed to have time for me a moment ago.” His mouth was right next to her ear, shouting over the music to be heard. The air rushing over her rapidly cooling damp skin caused small shivers to race down her body.

“If I go outside with you how do I know you won’t try and kill me?” Yeah, it was a bluff; she had no stake and didn’t think she could fight now even if she needed to.

“I could have killed you anytime I wanted to in the last hour, but I didn’t. The club will be closing soon and we need to chat.”

“How do you know I won’t kill you?” Spike’s snort momentarily pushed his fingers deeper inside her.

“You know there’s only one other place to check for a stake. Though from the way you’ve been acting tonight, I think you’ve had it removed since our last meeting.”

A half dozen retorts came to mind, but she managed not to let any of them free. There wasn’t much she could say, what with his hands still all over her. Her body was beginning to cool; the arousal and alcohol that had been clouding her brain was receding. She felt sticky all over and was becoming more and more aware of just how damp her pants were. Buffy wanted nothing more then to go back to her crappy apartment and forget the whole night had ever happened.

The only way to get rid of Spike would be to hear what he had to say. And he had a point; if he had wanted to kill her he could have at any time. Hell, the way things stood he could still sink his fangs into her neck and she wouldn’t be in a position to stop him.

“Let’s go.” With a gentleness that frightened her, Spike withdrew his fingers from her slowly. He wiped his hand off on his pants before slipping it under her shirt. Almost reverently, Spike righted her bra and smoothed down her top.

“Right luv, let’s motor.” Grabbing her hand tightly, they made their way out of the club and into the chilly LA night.

They walked for several blocks. Buffy was in too much of a daze to ask where they were going or why. The familiar shape of Spike’s DeSoto was enough to have her yanking her hand from his.

“Where the hell are we going, Spike?”

“Look, we need to go some place quiet to talk. I have some things you need to know about; what’s been going on up in lovely Sunnyhell. Plus, there’s been sort of a family reunion that I haven’t been invited to.”

“Wow, Spike. Is that so? No, wait, I don’t care. Sorry, tried, but really don’t care. So, it was nice seeing you, if you come near me again I’ll-“

“Yes, yes Slayer, you’ll stake me good and proper. Just get in the bloody car. This is important and I don’t fancy talking about it here where god knows what will overhear us.”

What the hell, if he was going to kill her, he would be doing her a favour. At least then she wouldn’t have to worry about where she was going to get the money she needed to pay all her bills. Or how she was going to make the condemning voices of her friends quiet enough for her to sleep for a few hours.

The freeways were less crowded at o’dark thirty on a Wednesday morning, but not empty. Spike sped down road, weaving around anyone going less than eighty miles per hour.

Their drive was silent, bur once he had got on the 10 and passed the 405 Buffy figured he was heading towards the beach. Though why that would be any safer then the seedy part of downtown Hollywood, she had no idea.

Spike parked in one of the lots by the Pier that claimed it closed at sunset, but had no barrier in place to stop people from continuing to use the lot long after the sun had sunk into the Pacific
“You know Spike, cleaning out your car every decade or so would be of the good. I was sure I was going to have to slay whatever it was that you have growing on the floor boards.” The quip was more force of habit then any real desire to start up their ongoing one-upmanship in the quipping game.

Ignoring her, Spike rummaged around the backseat, emerging triumphant with a bottle of whiskey. Clutching his prize, Spike exited the DeSoto making his way down to where concrete met sand.

Despite having been in LA for several months, Buffy hadn’t made it to the beach. Not having a car meant many long bus rides, and Buffy had yet to completely figure out the various bus services offered by the various cities that made up Los Angeles.

It was a clear night and Spike’s head was clearly visible as he made his way towards the water’s edge. Now fully sober, irritation began to take over the embarrassment, shame and arousal. Letting out a growl that Spike would have been proud of, Buffy stormed after him.

By the time Buffy reached him, Spike was sitting, taking deep pulls from his bottle.

“What are we doing out here Spike?” The air was damp, raising goose bumps on her arms.

“We need to talk, thought here we could talk without being overheard by the locals.” He took another long swig of the whiskey. “Plus, if anything wants a piece of us, we can see them coming a long way off.” It was true, there was no fog tonight. Looking north Buffy could see where the ghostly shadows of the pier met beach and water, south, the beach disappeared into the inky blackness of night.

“Well, unless they plan to attack us from under the water. Then we’re pretty much screwed.” Buffy jumped back as a wave bigger then all the others came to lick at her feet. Spike didn’t seem to care that the salt water sprayed his boots.

“If they attack us, I’m not worried, I’ll just throw them your bony carcass and run for the car.”

“And they say chivalry is dead. You know, They say an awful lot of things, I wonder just who They are and why people listen to them. I mean, what gives them the right-“

“Slayer, shut your trap for five bloody minutes.”

“Listen Spike, I came with out here because of our past to listen to what you have to say, but really, I’m bored.”

“You came out here because I didn’t really give you another choice. Your brain was too full of alcohol and pleasure to put up an resistance to me.”

“That’s not true. I could have stayed at the club if I wanted to.”

“Sure you could have, Slayer,” Spikes tone was blatantly patronizing. Buffy suppressed the urge to punch him. Hard. Truth was, if she wanted to get back to her apartment she needed him conscious and able to drive.

“It’s getting late, or maybe it’s getting early. I don’t know which; all I know is today has been filled with weirdnesses that I’m too tired to try and figure out now.” Giving the encroaching waves a mistrustful glare, Buffy took a half dozen steps back from the water’s edge and sat down.

Spike stayed where he was, silhouetted against sky, his body a mass of darkness topped by a shock of pale hair that gleamed in the moonlight. Buffy wondered what the hell Spike was doing here; last she’d known, he had grabbed Dru and was making for parts unknown. Except not so unknown now, as he was right in front of her.

The sand was cool under Buffy’s hands, but the deeper she burrowed, the warm it became, the heat from the sun still hidden beneath.

“You know, Dru she was my constant for so many years. Her insanity was what kept me going, kept me sane.” Spike spoke suddenly, startling Buffy from her contemplation of the sand. “She made me, made me the vampire I am today. Her and Angelus. Taught me everything I needed to become William the Bloody.”

“If this is another one of your trips down memory lane I think I’m gonna pass, Spike. I left the past where it belongs in Sunnydale and I really don’t want to talk about it tonight. Or you know, ever.”

“But it’s the past that makes us who we are, Buffy.” His quite words seemed deafening with the use of her given name. It had been weeks, months, since anyone had called her Buffy. Oddly enough Slayer hadn’t fazed her, but Buffy had made her want to cry.

When she looked up, she saw Spike was standing next to her. He lowered himself to the sand beside her, wordlessly handing her the bottle. Buffy took a deep drink, choking and spluttering at the end.

“You really are just a little thing, aren’t you?” Spike asked, looking at her with a small smile. “Hard to believe that something so small holds such power. Brought the line of Aurlious to its knees. Centuries of breeding and culling to be undone with a girl with shampoo commercial hair and undisciplined and unorthodox fighting.”

Buffy wasn’t sure if she’d just been insulted or complimented. Spike was stirring up all the emotions that she had worked so hard to suppress since she left Sunnydale.

“Dru’s gone. ‘S why I’m here. She up and left in the middle of the night. Tied me to the bed and pulled opened the curtain. Sun was just coming up when I realized my predicament.” He took the bottle back, looking at it for a long moment. Buffy wondered if he might be inspecting it for Slayer cooties. “Lucky for me, Dru was never all that good with knots. I managed to pull one hand free and untie myself.”

“Where did she go?” Buffy looked over her shoulder, half expecting to see the crazy vampire there.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Least not any more. I followed her trail for a bit. When I left you lot in Sunnyhell, I headed south. Made it all the way to Brazil. What fun we had, dancing the night away. Eating our fill.”

“Not wanting to hear so much about the eating of people, Spike.” She grabbed the bottle back from him. The liquid inside sloshed about drunkenly, but the bottle was almost empty and none came close to spilling out.

“Right. One day I wake up and Dru’s ranting away about the stars and the sun and fire and how her Angleus is in so much pain. That he’s calling to her. I thought that maybe the guy we’d had the night before had a little more ecstasy in him then I originally suspected.” Without looking, Buffy passed Spike the bottle he took it with a nod of thanks. “It took me hours to get her to calm down, but she did eventually. Didn’t hear another peep about her precious Daddy. Not until almost a week later when I woke up tied to the bed. She told one of the minions why she was leaving. I wasn’t vamp enough for her any more.” Spike started gesturing wildly with his hands, movements jerky. “ I’d sided with the Slayer. I was dirty now. Impure. Me, William the Bloody, Scourge of Europe!” Sensing that Spike could go on all night about this, Buffy grabbed his hand.

“Fine, Dru left you. It wasn’t like she was all that faithful anyway. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to get her back. She’s all I’ve known for over a hundred years. I followed the trail of bodies and of her lovers – those two things not mutually exclusive, you understand. She was heading north, back to Sunnyhell I thought, but she seems to have stopped here in Los Angeles. Taken up with some git we knew decades ago, back in Europe.”

“That explains why you’re here in LA, but not why you’re here with me.” It was like trying to pin a rainbow to a wall. Buffy was starting to wonder long and hard what all those years with Dru might actually do to someone’s mind.

“She’s here for a reason. And the bloke she’s with, he’s a right nasty sort, but he’s also got some powerful magic.” He paused until she looked at him. His eyes were clear, despite the amount of whiskey he had just consumed. “I think they’re gonna try and bring Angelus back from Hell.”
 

Thanks again to the amazing fic_slayer fucking awesome turnaround time with these. ::smooch::

And now what you've all really been waiting for ::snort::

Buffy felt a white hot flash of pain erupt from her chest, rapidly spreading throughout her body. Her mind replayed over and over again the sword being shoved into Angel, and the vortex opening wider to swallow him whole.

The numbness that had been shrouding Buffy from the harshest of the pain since leaving Sunnydale was gone. She ached for all that she lost, for all that she left behind. Friends whom she had let down, a mother who didn’t want her any more, the man she thought of as her soul mate, slain by her own hand. Only not really dead, but sentenced to suffer unknown torments in Hell, for the rest of eternity.

Buffy didn’t even realize that she was crying until Spike’s arm tentatively slipped around her back, gingerly petting her shoulder. It had been so long since anyone had touched her that way. It was always her that had to be the strong one, make the choices no one else wanted to. For all they wanted to be there for her, to help her, her friends could not do what she could. Even Giles didn’t have the strength or ability to take on the vampires and other nasties that came with living on the Hellmouth.

As he held her, Buffy cried for all that she had lost, all that she had left behind. It was more then friends and family; it was an innocence that she had managed to keep, despite being the Slayer. An innocence that was shredded by Angelus, then totally destroyed with her sending him to hell.

For the second time that night, Buffy lost track of time while in Spike’s arms. The tears fell silently for long minutes, and when the tears ran dry, he held her still as she slowly melted into his embrace. They sat in silence; for once both were absolutely still. Buffy’s head now rested on Spike’s shoulder, his arm holding her securely to his side.

“Why did you come looking for me, Spike? How did you even know I was in LA?” Her voice was soft. It seemed wrong to raise it above a whisper in the stillness of the night, broken only by the quiet rush of waves crashing on the shore.

“I went to Sunnydale looking for you after I saw who Dru had hooked up with. No good could ever come of that pairing. Darla, Angelus, even the Master worked hard to keep those two as far apart as possible. Or at least made sure one or the other was distracted if they were in the same company.” As he spoke, Spike’s hand had come up and started playing with the soft strands of Buffy’s hair.

“Did you see them?” Despite her best efforts, Buffy’s question sounded like that of a lost child.

“Yeah I did. They’re doing alright. They miss you, pet. Your mum is worried about you. She’s the only one I talked to of the lot. Only one I was reasonably sure of wouldn’t stake me on sight.” He paused as if wanting a response from her, but Buffy was too drained to rise to the bait, if that was indeed his intention. “Seems she and Giles have had it out concerning your Slaying. About the pressure he put on you.”

“He never put more pressure on me then he thought I could handle. In the end it was a mess that I made all by myself that I had to clean up.” She wondered if he would get another Slayer to watch over. “He was a good Watcher. If a bit on the Britishy tweed side.”

“Things are pretty quiet up there. No new Slayer has shown up, but then no new Big Bad has either. So I guess that’s something for you white hats.”

“How did you find me? None of the others have.”

“They’re looking in the wrong places. Looking for a girl whose been beating off the muggers, saved babies from burning buildings, making sure little old ladies cross the road safe and all that rot.” His hand made its way to the back of her neck and was slowly massaging the tension away. It felt good, relaxing, it had been so long since Buffy had been able to relax and let down her guard. “I reckoned that you’d be done for the whole hero bit. Least for a while. Figured you wouldn’t really be able to get too far from your mum and the Scoobies.”

“LA is a pretty big city, Spike. Why were you in that club?” She was starting to tense up, and tried to pull away from his hand.

“Be still, Slayer. I didn’t ask around, didn’t let anyone know were I was going looking for you.” Buffy debated if the effort to pull away was really worth it, but she was so tired and his fingers felt so good. Funny, less then six months ago she would have decked anyone who suggested that she’d be sitting on the beach curled up against Spike, just talking. Time, and a pretty interesting dance session, can change how people relate to each other.

“Are you sure no one from Sunnydale followed you?” She wasn’t ready to face any of them yet. If ever.

“I’ve been at this a while, love. Making an exit without getting caught is one of the things I do well. Have to be good at it, what with all the situations I get myself into.” She did smile at that.

“You always make with the big entrances, but once you’re in, you don’t really have any good plans besides fight good, kick high, punch hard.”

“I’ll have you know, I got myself in and out of some pretty interesting situations, with my quarry, before I met you. You don’t fight by the rule book.”

“What’s this rule book everyone keeps talking about? How come I never got one?” The bantering was easier then talking about why Spike had actually sought her out.

“Would you have actually read it?”

“Of course I would have,” she shot back indignantly. Then, “Or you know, I would have had Willow read it for me and give the important points.”

“You and me, we don’t play by the rules. That’s why it’s so hard to kill us. It’s why we couldn’t kill each other. We can fight, and taunt, and plan, but in the end, it’ll always come to a draw.” He was right, Buffy realized, and a very small part of her was happy. It was nice to know that there would always be a constant like that. Even if it was one that had the potential to kill her.

Wow, she had a fucked up way of looking on the bright side.

“Spike?” It was time to get serious, they had been out here for a while and sunrise wasn’t too far off. “How did you find me?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t the first place I thought to look, but I haven’t been looking that long. Only a few days really. It just felt right.” Buffy’s spidey-sense started to tingle at his explanation. It wasn’t a particularly nice sensation, though it was familiar.

“I want to go home. I’m tired and I need to sleep.” As she stood, a wave of dizziness engulfed her. and she realized that there was still a good amount of whiskey running through her veins. On unsteady legs, she made her way back to the car; she just hoped Spike was sober enough to get her home.

They arrived back in front of the Pit without incident, in almost total silence. He had offered to take her to her apartment, but Buffy wasn’t about to let him find out where she lived. Even if he wouldn’t be able to actually cross the threshold.

They made no plans to meet up, but Buffy knew that she would see him again. He would find her, and they would talk, plan, but only when the time was right. Until then, she had a cold shower with no water pressure and a lumpy bed calling her name. There was a lot to think about.



There will be dancing in the next one promise!

Any one bored and want to make me an icon for the fic?
 

Buffy had spent a quiet day in her apartment, thinking over the events of the previous night. In the harsh light of day it seemed unimaginable that she had danced with Spike, his hands roaming over her body, doing things to her no one had done before.

And that was before the night had become truly surreal.

She had cried in his arms and they had talked. Not argued, not bantered, not fought, but actually talked. And he had held her, and caressed her; made her feel safe. She had let her guard down and someone else had briefly carried the load.

“Hey Tom, how are you tonight?”

“I’m good. What can I get you to drink?” Tom’s voice brought her back to reality. He was looking at her oddly, but Buffy ignored it. People often looked at her oddly for one reason or another.

“Surprise me.” The surprise turned out to be vodka and orange juice. Not much of a surprise, but then it wasn’t like there were that many options.

Buffy surveyed the crowd, not wanting to admit to herself that she was looking for a bleached blond head among the throng on the dance floor. It was Thursday night, which meant more of the dance floor was filled, but there would still be room to dance without getting smothered.

She again assessed the dance floor, ostensibly looking for a good spot to dance. Dismissing several when it became apparent that none of the dancers had bleached blond hair or a floor length black leather duster. Her eyes moved from section to section this one had too many people, the wrong kind of dancers. They all had heart beats.

Realizing that she was indeed actively looking for Spike, Buffy slammed back her drink; tapping it on the bar when she was done and silently asking Tom for another. She drank this one more slowly, making it last, not wanting to be too cloudy should Spike show up again.

A part of Buffy wondered if she hadn’t finally snapped. If after having broken that guy’s wrist and nose the previous night, if everything else hadn’t been some sort of alcohol induced fantasy. Nightmare. Nightmare!

“So Tom, what time do you want me in tomorrow?” Buffy wondered if the job offer had been real.

“Come in about nine, the crowd should start to really fill then.” Tom leaned over to re-fill the glass that Buffy hadn’t even realized she’d emptied. “No drinking while you’re working.”

“Don’t worry Tom. It’s been a weird twenty-four hours. I’ll be here on time and ready to work tomorrow night.” Buffy finished her third drink of the night, feeling the warm buzz of the first drinks start to flow through her. “But for tonight, I’m gonna go out and dance.”

The music felt different tonight, not as desperate as it had the night before. Buffy once again let the music direct her movements, slowly losing herself in the feel of the songs. With more people on the dance floor, it meant she had less room to move about, but that was fine. She didn’t feel the mad need to make the world disappear.

Guys came up and tried to dance with her, but she didn’t want to follow anyone’s moves but her own. For once, she wasn’t trying to forget the pain, she wasn’t trying to forget about her bills, or her life. She was enjoying herself for the first time in almost a year.

When the hand settled possessively on her hip, Buffy knew instantly whom it belonged to. Earlier she had thought she had sensed him a dozen times, but she ignored the feeling. She had never before been able to identify specific vampires. Even Angel. So Buffy had just written off the odd tinglies that screamed, “Spike!” as overflow of the weirdness from the night before.

This time there was no hesitation on his part. Spike pulled Buffy to him, banding his right arm around her waist. They moved together in sync with the music and each other, neither leading. When the songs changed beat, slowed a fraction, Spike loosened his hold. He slowly made his way around Buffy until they were facing each other.

In her heels, Buffy was only about half a head shorter then he was. She could look him in the eyes without straining her neck. Not that she actually was looking him in the eyes. They were carefully avoiding eye contact; it would make what they were doing real.

Buffy brought a hand up to rest behind his neck, easily slid under the collar of his duster and red shirt. Spike’s hand made its way to the small of Buffy’s back, made small circles there, imperceptivity pulling her closer and closer. His thigh slowly came between hers as they danced.

Unconsciously, Buffy began to knead the back of Spike’s neck in time to the thrusting of his thigh. His hands were now resting possessively her ass, bringing her nearer with each thrust.

The heat running through Buffy’s veins had nothing to do with the three screwdrivers she had consumed earlier. She slowly brought one of her hands down, running it between the smooth silk of his red shirt and the soft cotton of his black T. Little shivers race through Spike’s body and Buffy felt her body trembling in tandem as she slowly ran her hand down to the barrier of his belt.

Someone jostled Buffy from behind, causing her to slam hard against Spike. She let out a low moan as the intensity and angle of the thrust changed. The world fell away from around her, all she felt were Spike’s hands on her ass, the rough scrape of denim on denim where their thighs where locked together. Her nipples were rock hard and ached as the material of her shirt moved against them. She hadn’t worn a bra tonight telling herself that it would ruin the lines of the shirt.

Spike dipped his head, bringing his mouth to her left shoulder. The flexing of his thigh as she bent sent new and stronger waves of pleasure through Buffy. Legs that had always seemed so good at supporting her in the past threatened to give way. Leaned heavily against Spike, Buffy brought the hand at his waist back up to the neck. She held on tight.

“You ready for this?” Spike’s voice was almost too soft to be heard above the music. His breath hissed out against her throat as Buffy brought her lips to his neck biting it softly. “Right then.” The wail of an anonymous singer drowning out anything else he said.

They moved slowly against each other, unconsciously mimicking the pulsing beat from the speakers surrounding them. Spike’s lips slowly traced a path across Buffy’s cheek, butterfly kisses landed next to her closed eyes, on top of her nose, next to her parted lips.

Turning her head quickly Buffy captured Spike’s lips. For a first kiss there was no hesitation, no timid give and take. They attacked each other, tongues tangling and dueling, teeth clashing. But for all the roughness, a dim part of Buffy’s mind noted they did not hurt the other.

Buffy slowed the kiss down a bit, running her tongue over his teeth. Toying with his incisors briefly fantasizing what it would be like to kiss him game-face. Angel’s image flashed briefly across her mind, but she resolutely locked him away. He was gone, Spike was here and his hands were doing the most amazing things to her.

Skin on skin, she had somehow missed Spike moving his hands from her back pockets to inside her jeans and underwear. He extracted a hand and slowly ran it around to the front toying with the button of her jeans before sliding under her shirt. A sure hand cupped her breast, testing its weight.

The music’s tempo changed again, faster, more frantic as more and more people filled the dance floor. There was barely room to dance anymore, but Buffy didn’t notice. All she cared about was the wonderful tension that was building in the pit of her belly. The tight, warm wonderful feeling that only happened with another body rubbing against hers.

Spike pinched her nipple and Buffy let out a silent scream, thrusting herself frantically against him. She could feel his erection through his jeans, rubbing against the inside of her thigh. Buffy shifted ever so slightly, aligning their bodies to maximize both of their pleasure.

Releasing her breast, Spike brought his hand down to lock on her hip, holding her in place, speeding up his frantic thrusts. Buffy dropped her head to his shoulder, turning ever so slightly so that her lips and teeth could latch onto the exposed skin where black cotton met pale neck. She sucked hard, every muscle in her body tightening, locking in place. Spike bent one leg ever so slightly as an unknown dancer jostled them from the side. It was enough to send them both over the edge.

Buffy’s orgasm exploded through her, heat rushing out to her limbs, light flashing behind closed eyes. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through Buffy as Spike continued to move against her, albeit erratically now.

When the shudders stopped, Buffy clung to Spike, she wasn’t confident her legs could support her. And she didn’t really want to break contact from him. She gently licked the spot on his neck where her teeth had dug in during her climax. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth ever so slightly.

She felt woefully inadequate in how to deal with the situation. How do you go from wanting to kill someone, and them wanting to kill you, to having a mind-blowing orgasms while fully clothed on a dance floor in what amounted to a forty-eight hour period? Sure there had been months between their first and last encounters. Buffy felt that she should be feeling more, well, more something. Guilt perhaps, disgust. She didn’t feel any of those, not really. She didn’t feel drunk either, despite the three drinks from earlier in the evening.

The seconds bled into minutes as the swayed together, no longer dancing, nor arousing the other. They just held on as their breathing slowly returned to normal. This was wrong, in another life, at another time, this was wrong. She should have turned him away; should have punched Spike and stormed off at the first hint that he was near. Only this time she didn’t have the will to be strong, to turn away from him.

What made him the enemy? What made her the good-guy? She wasn’t even sure she was good any more. Or, more distressingly, that Spike was evil incarnate. Black and white had co-mingled so thoroughly over the last few years that there wasn’t a distinct difference anymore, so much as never ending shades of grey.

Buffy felt Spike’s hand under her chin, tilting her head up and back. She kept her eyes closed for a long minute, not knowing what she wanted to see when she opened her eyes.

His smile was small and sad, despair and hope mingled together in his eyes. A look she had seen all too often in her own.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Maybe get some coffee?” The words had left her mouth before checking with her brain. Disbelief flickered across Spikes face, before hope came back, stronger then the despair, and a little of the sad left his smile.

Tentatively Spike laced his fingers through hers, tightening as he weaved a path off the dance floor and towards the beckoning cool dark of night.

Many thanks to N for the beta. Who knew porn was such a good cure for migraines?