Taking major liberties with Season 2, Spike left after What's My Line and didn't get put in a wheelchair. Buffy finds herself at an 80's flashback club and finds the Billy Idol impersonator a bit familiar. Vamp/Slayer fic NC-17 (or will be)
 

This fic has not been beta'd, so please excuse the mistakes!.

             

Chapter 1

    Wow. An 80's Flashback club. And not just a flashback club... an IMPERSONATOR Flashback Club. Could it get any lamer than that????  And she was here... why?  Oh yeah, duh.

 

    Buffy gave herself a mental V-8 slap of the forehead. It's not like it was something so easy to forget, she thought with not a small bit of resentment. She was here because her dad had a hot new squeeze he wanted her to meet. Yeah, that was going to be fun. Not.

 

    The New Squeeze turned out to have a daughter Buffy's age, and in the lame way parents think, her dad and The Squeeze thought it would be oh so cool to take the offspring for a night out together. Clubbing. With her dad.

 

    Buffy couldn't help the robust eye roll at that thought.

 

    Not that Blair had turned out to be that bad, Buffy had to admit. She was even kind of cool. In fact, if away from the watchful and hopeful eyes of their respective parental units, they might actually have fun. At least that was one thing going in her favor tonight.

 

    Recently, her life had been chock full of major suckage, thanks to the stupid squid thing in the school basement turning everyone into zombie slaves and her mom's robot boyfriend, Ted.  Not to mention more Angel angst than she could stomach.

 

    No, her life was on a one way ticket to major sucksville, and she couldn't even assert her innocence in all of it. Sometimes, being a Superhero just sucked.

 

     So here she was, shipped off to her dad's like some disobedient child, her mother fully at her wits end-whatever those were. 

 

    'It just wasn't fair', Buffy pouted, crossing her arms across her chest to paint a portrait of teenage defiance.

 

    It especially wasn't fair because it was more than apparent that her visit was somewhat of an intrusion in her dad's new found life. That fact was boldly obvious in the way her dad and Sherry were hanging all over each other, and Buffy couldn't help the grimace that took over her carefully made up face. 

 

    A feminine laugh erupted next to her and Buffy turned to see Blair smiling in agreement, her head nodding with exaggeration.

 

   Ok, so maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

    But that was until they finally walked the two blocks they had been forced to park away from their destination, the weekend night providing a severe lack of parking opportunities. The club, in all its neon lit glory, loomed large and crowded in front of her, and suddenly her former doubts returned with huge smack to the head.

 

    Already, Buffy could hear a live version rendition of A-Ha's 'Take on Me' wafting out of the virtual revolving door as patrons entered and exited with abandon. Clubbing with her dad. Now there was something she didn't think she'd ever be doing.  

 

    Once her dad had paid their cover charges and they made their way inside, a profound sense of deja'vu gripped Buffy as she spun around in a slow circle, her mouth agape as she soaked in the atmosphere. 

 

    Mumbling about weird coincidences, she turned towards the stage and another stab of vu with a major dash of deja struck her.    

 

    "What did you say this place was called?" she asked Blair, her brain not having grasped that bit of information on the way in.

 

    "I don't think we did. Most people just call it that '80's Flashback club', but I think the real name is Rebel Yell."

 

    Now that just sucked. She couldn't even think of Billy Idol without thinking of the bleached blonde undead wannabe.

 

    "Come on honey, let's go get some drinks and find someplace to sit," Hank suggested, not bothering to spare his daughter a second glance as he laced fingers with Sherry and headed towards the bar. Buffy's eyes followed them until they were swallowed by the masses. 

 

     Heaving a dramatic teenage sigh, Buffy shook her head in a dejected manner as she prepared to follow her dad.

 

    "They're kind of lame, aren't they?"

 

    Buffy looked over at Blair, a spontaneous smile finding its way onto her face at her sudden co-conspirator. "Oh yeah." Buffy's hazel eyes widened in slight alarm. "Not that I think your mom is lame or anything."

 

    Blair laughed.  "I don't think your dad is lame either. They're just... laaaaame," she remarked, drawing out the last word with an exaggerated purse of her lips.

 

    "And that is a major understatement," Buffy agreed, finding her first impression of Blair now fully cemented.  There had been an immediate sense of camaraderie, not something she would have expected after meeting under such retarded circumstances. 

 

    "Come on, we better go before the parental units have a major cow." Blair tossed a conspiratorial grin in Buffy's direction, and with a subtle flip of her long brown hair, prepared to seek out her mom.
 

    Buffy's mood lifted with the potential of a newfound partner in crime, and with a welcomed burst of enthusiasm, she followed Blair.   Maybe-just maybe-something would go right for her. Just once would be nice, and Buffy found herself hoping for a non-mental drain of an evening. 

 

    Taking one more quick glance around the club on her way to the bar, Buffy decided that the place was actually kinda... neat. Not that she'd tell her dad that, of course. And any resemblance to the Bronze was purely coincidental, she firmly decided, coming up with the plausible excuse of generic building plans or something.

 

    Then she felt the familiar zap crawl its way up the nape of her neck.  So not what she needed, she pouted, taking a more encompassing perusal of the club on this pass, taking careful note of the people in it.  Her efficient eyes searched the shimmying throngs of dedicated dancers on the floor off to the side of the stage. She was proud of herself that she was still able to keep up with Blair, who seemed to be a master of slipping her way through the tightly packed club.   

 

    "There they are," Blair announced, grabbing Buffy's hand and pulling her over to the bar where her dad and Sherry had just turned away, hands laden with an array of liquid delight.

 

    Buffy's slayer sense kicked in stronger, and with a startled jerk, she realized that it was the bartender who was setting off her undead radar. Well, that wasn't something Buffy saw everyday.  A gainfully employed vampire.  Didn't matter much to her though, finding they dusted all the same, fat paycheck or not. Not wanting to give up what was beginning to resemble a normal night out,  Buffy decided to just keep watch on the undead bartender. Major scene of the dusting variety and her dad were NOT two things she wanted mixed together. 

 

    Watching the competent hands of the bartender, Buffy decided that the vamp had seen the movie Cocktail WAY too many times. It was then she noticed the stellar lack of mirrors lining the walls, an oddity in itself in a dance club.

 

    Twenty minutes later, Buffy found herself seated at a table smack dab in front of the stage. There was a lull in the live entertainment, which Buffy was thankful for since Boy George-real or fake- didn't do much for her. Recorded music filled the large club and she found her feet tapping away to the music of the Alarm.

 

    Begrudgingly, Buffy had to admit she was having a good time.  With a typical teenage reaction, she had been all prepared girl to not like Sherry the Squeeze at all, but was finding her... entertaining. And her dad? She hadn't seen him this loose and un-uptighty in forever and that translated into no lectures for Buffy, something that was always of the good.

 

    Alright, she may as well be full with the admitty here.  Sherry and her daughter were cool. And the club thing? WAY cooler than it sounded.

 

    To Buffy's surprise, she found out it wasn't the first time Sherry had been here, another bit of info that brought her down a few more notches off the pedestal of lameness. 

 

    "The girls from work and I come here a lot, actually," Sherry had admitted, not caring that her dad was sitting right there.  "WAIT until you see the Billy Idol guy, you're going to die. He is soooo good. Better than the original, and I know; I've seen Billy Idol in concert a few times."

 

    "Oh yeah, he is HOT," Blair jumped in and agreed. "My mom brought me here to see him on my sixteenth birthday."

 

    Buffy must have given something away on her face at the mention of Billy Idol because Blair scrunched her nose up and asked, "Ah, I take it you don't like Billy Idol."

 

    "Huh? What? Oh, no, I like him. It's just one of those... icky memory by association type of things."

 

    "Gotcha," Blair remarked, settling back in her chair. Buffy took the opportunity to look around and noticed that all the tables in front of the stage were now full, and standing room was becoming a serious issue. Testosterone was not something in great abundance amid this up front crowd, and Buffy had to roll her eyes at the sheer number of compacts that were being whipped out as their owners applied fresh lipstick and fluffed their hair.

 

    Buffy had a sudden urge to grab her own mirror and check herself out, then once more gave herself a mental slap. Right. Like that was really necessary for some Billy Idol wannabe.

 

    As if possessed, her own thoughts wandered to the ultimate Billy Idol wannabe, remembering the last time she saw him after he had nearly killed Angel to save his psycho ho bag. He had swooped Psycho Bitch up and left town, Buffy unable to give immediate chase due to the pressing need to evacuate the burning building, thanks to the fire the idiot had started. 

   
    Excited murmurs pulled Buffy's attention back, and she sat up straighter in her seat. 'They're like a bunch of damn groupies,' she groused, watching the throngs of women getting jacked up in anticipation, both young and old in the mix.

 

    The lights suddenly dimmed and more excited twitters sounded around her. Buffy went on immediate alert, the lack of visibility making her nervous. Just as she bent down to reach for the stake in her bag, the spotlights on the stage flashed on in a pulsating display and a low chant began throughout the club.

 

    "Billy, Billy, Billy..."

 

    Buffy's eyebrows raised in an incredulous tribute to the lameness she was witnessing and she looked over towards Blair.

 

    "I know, I know... But I'm serious, you have GOT to see this guy. Talk about major animal magnetism! You'll be going home tonight thinking of him, I can assure you. He is HOT," Blair gushed, her eyes brimming with barely contained excitement. She let loose with a loud whistle as band members began filing on the stage and taking their positions behind their instruments.

 

    A rush of anticipation slammed through her and Buffy found herself grinning, especially after looking at her Dad and Sherry, who were getting into it like everyone else.

 

    Her dad caught her eye. "What? Can't the old man cut loose and have a little fun?" Hank complained good naturedly. "I like Billy Idol. I still have him on vinyl, you know."

 

    The chanting grew louder as the crowd began to get restless. 'It has all the ambiance of a real rock concert,' Buffy thought with amazement. 'No wonder this place packed them in.'

 

    The spider sense that had been playing with her ever since she stepped foot into the club suddenly jumped into high alert.

 

    And Billy took the stage.

 

TBC

a/n- this story came about from reading 80's Night by Vamptastica and my 6 yr old daughter making me listen to Billy Idol in the car over and over and over. I hadn't planned on posting it, I just needed to get the plot bunny out of my head, so let me know if it's something that should be continued.

Chapter 2

     A burst of black leather and platinum blonde hair shot across the stage and the crowd instantly leapt to their feet; their excited screams swallowed up by the beginning chords of the intro. The entire stage had become a blur of contagious frenetic activity and Buffy felt herself succumbing against her will to the excitement, deciding to look for the trouble later.

 

    In an instant, her brain made the connection and her jaw fell open in incredulity, her entire body registering the shock.

 

    Blair elbowed her in the ribs, a knowing grin plastered on her face. "I told you this guy was singing sex, didn't I?"

 

    Fighting the overwhelming urge to flee, Buffy just nodded mutely, her eyes frozen on the stage. 'Oh god, if they only knew...'

 

    She didn't know what kind of cosmic joke had led to this and cursed the fates for once again making her the sucky Chosen one who wasn't even able to enjoy an evening out with her dad. And here she thought her life had been full of the suckage before...

 

    Then the show really began when a microphone was grabbed and the voice of...oh god, Billy Idol began filling the club.

 

    Buffy found herself speechless. Utterly gobsmacked.  It was SPIKE up there. Spike of the "I'm going to kill you" Spikes. Singing.

 

    And singing pretty well, Buffy had to admit.  Ok, not just well, more like a world of well. Buffy remained glued to her chair while being pressed in from all sides by a wall of people eager to get as close to the stage as possible, making her thankful that claustrophobia was not an issue for her.

 

    God did he know how to work it, she decided, finding herself mesmerized against her will. 

Face to face...
And back to back
You see and feel
My sex attack
Sing it
Flesh, flesh for fantasy
We want
Flesh, flesh for fantasy

    Each word crooned was given new meaning as Spike allowed his hips to gyrate side to side in an slow enticing manner, his tight leather pants outlining the hard muscles of his legs and the mighty package in between, his hand traveling up and down the exposed taut muscles of his abdomen causing more than one woman wishing she was that hand. His eyes were heavily lined with liner which just added to the whole package, and his normally slicked back hair was a riot of spikes. Magnitudes of jewelry adorned his body and rather than making him look feminine, merely added to his smoking masculinity. 

 

    So far he hadn't seemed to notice her, and Buffy did her best to shrink down in her chair in an attempt to camouflage herself from the intense eyes up on the stage that seemed to burned with life as he sang. 

 

******

    'Bloody hell, she was actually here,' Spike thought frantically, doing his best to keep up his usual stage persona. For that short amount of time, he WAS Billy Idol, with an added twist all his own. Each night they came, packing themselves in to watch his act, perfuming the air with the succulent scent of their arousal as they visually ate him up as he danced around the stage.

 

    It should have filled him with a sick sense of satisfaction that they were getting off on a creature that could easily rip their throats out, but it kept failing to. The encompassing sweep he made each night of the crowd should have set his demon howling, yet it was always left with a keen sense of disappointment. It enraged him on every level that he kept looking for her, but he was helpless to put an end to it.  He was a VAMPIRE for fuck's sake. It was wrong to covet the Slayer. Yet she continued to coat   both his waking and sleeping thoughts until he was bloody well ready to tear his own throat out.

 

    And now she was here.

 

    A slow smirk graced his lips. Fun was about to be had.

 

********

 

    "OH MY GOD!" Blair squealed next to Buffy, eyes wide with excitement. "He keeps staring at you!"

 

    "No he doesn't," Buffy protested, knowing she was lying through her teeth. Spike's eyes had suddenly locked on hers and refused to let go, sending a wave of embarrassment through her. Now wishing they weren't sitting two feet from the stage, Buffy did everything she could to avoid looking at him.

 

    "YES, he does!" Blair confirmed, not the only one with jealous thoughts.

 

    Thankfully, 'Flesh For Fantasy' came to an end because Buffy found herself having a difficult time not watching Spike's capable and deadly hands stroking his own body, having to will her eyes to remain focused on a spot behind Spike's head while she feigned nonchalance.

 

    Suddenly burning up, Buffy slipped the denim jacket from her shoulders then assumed a bored look, plastering a fake courtesy smile on her face as she clapped with polite enthusiasm.

 

 ******

 

    Bitch.... Trying to act all bored... we'll just see about that, Spike decided as he watched the Slayer out of the corner of his eye. 

 

    He waited for the noise to settle down a bit before putting the mike to his mouth.
 

    "You all bloody well pumped up or what?" Spike shouted, the anticipated affirmation shouted right back at him making him curl his upper lip in true Billy fashion.  "Right, so let's do it then."

 

    Spike nodded at the band members behind him and they began the musical intro.

 

    Putting the microphone in the stand to free up his hands, Spike sang,

"Here she comes now sayin' Mony Mony"

 

    The anticipated shout back from the audience earned another sultry grin from Spike.

 

    "HEY! GET LAID, GET FUCKED!!"

 

    "Oooooh, aren't you a right nasty little bunch," he purred into the microphone, curling his tongue behind his front teeth as he smirked into the audience. The scent of arousal was everywhere now, but Spike ignored it. He had something a little different in mind.

 

    "Shoot 'em down turn around come on Mony"

 

    "HEY! GET LAID GET FUCKED"

    *********

 

    'God, where was a rock when you needed one?' Buffy thought frantically.  This was surreal, insane. This was just... wrong.  Spike and death in the sentence? Very right. Spike and sex in the same sentence? Very, very wrong!!! And god, with her FATHER sitting right there? Her father who was shouting along with everyone else?

   
    No, this was so not happening.

 

    Buffy felt an unneeded bathroom trip coming on and quickly stood up. She had to escape this... and NOW.  Her brain was thinking bad, nasty thoughts, and that was SO not of the good.

 

    Blair looked at her questioningly and Buffy leaned down to yell in her ear, "Gotta go to the bathroom."

 

    The look Blair flashed her clearly questioned her sanity in going NOW, but she nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to the stage with greedy eyes.

 

    Pushing herself away from her chair proved to be harder than anticipated as the wall of people behind her proved unyielding. So intent on getting through, she missed the words being spoken on stage.

 

*****

    Spike saw the look of panic crawl into the Slayer's eyes and had to bite back his laughter. So the girl was feeling all flustered and dainty, was she? Good.

 

    When he saw her stand and her desperate attempt to escape, his jaw set in determination. No way was he giving up so easily, not when he had her right where he wanted her.

 

    Signaling to the band to repeat the chords they had just played, he stepped back to the mike.

 

    "So, I'm thinking I've had a bit too much of dancin' by myself, don't you think? Think I  need to remedy that a bit." He waited for the accompanying hollering to begin before making his move.

 

    Using all of his predatory grace, he easily leapt from the stage to the table two feet from the stage, landing in a smooth crouch.  Ignoring the shocked looks of the other occupants of the table as they checked to make sure their drinks hadn't been knocked over, Spike smirked as the Slayer whipped back around to face him.

 

    "What do you say, luv? Shall we...dance?"

     

Chapter 3
   
    DANCE? What the hell was he talking about? They couldn't fight right here, in front of everybody!!! Was he insane? Buffy cast a nervous glance around, finding practically every eye in the club pinned on her as they waited with barely bated breath to witness her reaction. Those who frequented Rebel Yell knew this was a highly unusual event occurring here, and blessed their luck for being here this night to see it.

 

    Buffy's face felt like it had forgotten to move as she looked back at Spike. Did he HAVE to keep being all crouching-on-the-table guy? Taunting her with that evil smile of his? Oh yeah...she'd give a reaction all right.

 

    "Huh?" she asked dumbly.

 

    "Don't believe I stuttered there, pet. You and me. On the stage, " Spike drawled, holding his hand out to her.

 

    Buffy tried frantically to back away from the proffered appendage, her eyes growing wide with dawning horror. "Oh noooo way. No you and me. No stage." Her voice was shrill as she tried to pass through the impenetrable mass of bodies behind her who were all watching this take place with fascination and not a small bit of envy.

 

    Blair grabbed her arm. "Where are you going? Go!" she hissed in her ear.

 

    Buffy shook her head back and forth frantically. "No way."

 

    A cool palm suddenly slid into her unsuspecting hand, and Buffy stared down at it in horror before looking at its owner.

 

    A familiar scarred eyebrow was arched in a challenging manner as Spike regarded her with amusement. "You're not....scared of the Big Bad, are you, luv?"

 

    Buffy's eyes narrowed as she reacted just how he had expected, letting the Slayer come out to cause a bit of trouble.  Her jaw jutted out in defiance to his dare and by the spark that suddenly flared in her eyes, Spike knew he had been given his answer. 

 

    Turning to the middle-aged man at the table with the Slayer, Spike offered him an easy smile.  "Mind if I dance with your daughter a bit, eh?"

 

    "Nope, not at all," came the upbeat reply.

 

    Spike nodded his thanks and turned back to Buffy, tugging at the small hand firmly trapped in his. "Let's go then."

 

   *********

 

    'What was she doing?', Buffy thought frantically as she used her vacated chair to step onto the table, making the same easy leap to the stage that Spike had.

 

     Why was she so stupid?  She had allowed herself to react to Spike's not so subtle taunt and now...now she was totally doing a Courtney Cox in the Born in the USA video! All with the groupie stage dancing and everyone staring at her...

 

    And her dad! God! He was just sitting there all puffed up with pride that it was HIS daughter up there. Did he even know the meaning of jailbait? Buffy discovered that Sherry was looking entirely way too excited and Blair was just looking in awe.

 

    Everyone else seemed to be staring with a mixture of envy and curiosity, wondering the reason for this odd interlude in the normal performance.

 

    Now that she was on the stage, everything looked so different and uncertainty suddenly overwhelmed her. Wishing she hadn't taken her jacket off, she tried to find somewhere to put her hands, finally crossing her arms nervously over her bared torso, all the while shooting daggers into Spike's back.

 

    He had grabbed the microphone again and was stalking his way toward her. There was no other way to define the way his body was moving with such liquid grace. Stalking.

 

     Finding herself now feeling like Baby in the end scene of 'Dirty Dancing' except lacking the snappy little hip shaking, Buffy watched with growing wariness as Spike drew closer, her body growing stiff with anticipation. He was so dead for putting her through this humiliation. 

 

    She realized the band had been playing the same chords over and over; observ-o girl that she was, not even noticed until now.  Raising the microphone once more, Spike's voice filled the small club

Well you could shake it Mony Mony

Shot gun dead and I'll come on home yeah

Don't stop cookin' 'cause I feel all right now

Don't stop now come on Mony

 

Come on yeah, I said yeah,

    Buffy stood there in abject horror as his voice, his entire presence washed over her, flooding her with awareness. This was so not of the good.

 

    Then she realized the microphone was in her face and she allowed a weak answering  yeah, to fall from her mouth.

 

    Spike smirked knowingly and circled behind her, one hand settling on her hip as he belted out a heated yeah,

 

    This time when the microphone was thrust in front of her face, she gave it a bit more effort, but it still sounded weak coming after the robust voice of Spike.

 

     yeah, yeah

 

    Bending down to her ear, Spike whispered, "Come on, Slayer, give it to me good."

 

    Buffy couldn't help the shiver that tickled down her spine as his cool breath teased her ear, then gasped when Spike banded his arm around her bare abdomen and hauled her against him so that her back was flush against the bare chest behind her. The soft leather of the vest he wore teased her skin and she instinctively stiffened, her slayer sense screaming for release.

 

    "Relax Slayer. Don't want me to think you're... chicken, do you?" he asked softly, chuckling at the glare she tossed over her shoulder.  She was so bloody predictable, he thought with an edge of fondness.

 

    "I am going to get you SO fired," she shot at him.

   

    His laughter surprised her, and she gasped when she felt his hips begin to move in time to the music, and she couldn't help the rigid posture her body assumed once more.

 

    "Chicken. Bwock Bwock..."

 

    One more heated glare and she was on it, intent on teaching him that NOBODY called her a chicken. Buffy choked down her nervousness and let her more assertive self take over.

 

     Letting the music flow into her, Buffy relaxed and moved against him, her ass pressing against the hardness behind her. Figuring he expected her to turn and run from this, she was proud of herself for standing up to him. 

 

    A keen sense of feminine satisfaction took place when that hardness got even harder. HA. She was turning him on. Good. That's what he got for calling her a chicken. 

 

    The mike was once again raised, and Buffy was ready for it this time, allowing herself to slip into the role that made her his equal rather than a dumbstruck teenager. It was now Slayer vs. Vampire.   

 

'Cause you make me feel...

So good, so good, Well I feel all right

You're so fine, you're so fine, You're, and I feel all right

I said yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

 

    The song was getting her hot, there was no question of that. Buffy had never really listened to the words before, but now in Spike's arms, up on stage in front of a crowd of people, it took on a whole new meaning and she suddenly realized this had gone beyond the black and white.

   
    Oh My God.

    It was about sex. She feel it, could feel the desire pouring through her, could feel the evidence poking her in the ass as their hips ground together in a sultry circle in time to the music.

 

    The crowd gradually faded away until all that remained was Spike, his skin against her skin, his voice filling her veins with something she didn't even know she needed as she desperately fought back the paranoia that kept wanting to throw itself up. 

 

    'Hello! Master Vampire grinding his...thing against your butt...' it told her.

 

    But it felt good, Buffy decided.  It made her feel sexy, made her feel...wanted...

***********

    Spike had sang this very song night after night, but it had never had any meaning until now. She felt so right against him and suddenly he was desperate to see her eyes, spinning her around with one hand while making sure to keep her body shielding his protruding erection from the hungry eyes of the crowd.  
 

 

    A light gasp escaped Buffy at his abrupt movements, and she looked up at him.

 

    And smiled.

tbc
 

 

Chapter 4

    He was a dead man; well,in more than just the literal sense. This moment was a turning point for Spike. Just a simple smile, freely offered to him by her... the slayer. He knew damn well that he'd had feelings building inside him when he'd fled Sunnydale after the spell to get Dru back on her feet.... feelings that he'd done his best to ignore and deny. But when he was suddenly gifted with that shy, genuine smile, it just about knocked him and his denial right on his ass.

 

    When her arms reached up to curl around his neck, her fingers teasing the gelled spikes-a-la Billy at the back of his head, he knew he was completely lost to her. She could have shoved a stake right through his heart just then and he wouldn't have made a move to stop her; so enraptured in the not-so-innocent way she continued to move against him.  

 

    But Spike was well aware the girl's father was sitting there in the audience; and while permission had been freely given, Spike wasn't about to do the type of dancing that his demon was screaming for. A long buried-and presumed dead-sense of Victorian values suddenly overwhelmed him in acute protest at the thought of degrading the girl under her father's watchful eye; so he settled for gripping her waist possessively instead of grabbing her ass and smashing her mound against his aching erection like he yearned to.

 

    Now holding her a willing captive under his intense stare, Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth as they slowly swayed in perfect rhythm to the music the band continued to improvise, working the same rifts over and over.

****

    It was different being face to face where she could look right into his eyes, Buffy realized. She couldn't lie to herself now, couldn't pretend that it wasn't Spike who was behind her, who had managed to make her feel like it might even be okay to let herself be bad for once. To actually earn the title that she had been so easily labeled with by her parents and school officials. 

 

    Buffy had thought that she had yearned for validation of her innocence, of her fight for good. To have the world know that she wasn't the trouble-maker they thought she was. That all the things she did that made her "seem" bad were in fact because of a Chosen duty.

 

    But she was wrong. Wow, was she really off.

 

    With a startling flash of insight into her own mind, Buffy realized that she really just yearned to be bad; just a little rebellion that would go a long way. A crushing need that had been studiously ignored deep inside of her as she fought night after night for the side of good. A need that had suddenly found itself filled... by a pair of piercing blue eyes that should be glazed over with evil-yet weren't-and a solid body that felt incredible where it was intimately pressed against hers.

 

    Buffy searched deeper into Spike's eyes, trying to figure out just what the hell was happening here. He hated her, or so she thought. The multiple attempts on her life WERE a bit telling; but there was no trace of evil intent lurking behind the stormy blue now. Instead they just seemed to mirror back this weird sense of connection.  

 

    A connection that had always been there.

 

    That she had ignored.

 

    But should she give into it now? 

 

    Cat calls and shrill whistles pierced the air, effectively breaking the seductive spell that had spun around the two on stage as they basked in each other's arms.

 

   Just like that, Buffy was slammed back into the land where Good Slayers didn't behave like this in public... especially with notorious vampires. That aching part that had just been filled to the brim with realization? It was effectively beaten back down by Buffy's keen-and annoying-sense of responsibility. Of duty.

 

     'Oh my god, I practically had sex with him on the stage!' Buffy thought frantically, her face rapidly filling with color. Taking a barely discernable step back, it was just enough to separate her heated flesh from his, and she felt-rather than heard-the growl that reverberated from his chest at her very deliberate action

 

    Buffy cast a quick glance over at her dad, wincing as she saw the openly fascinated faces watching her. What the hell had she been thinking? She briefly wondered how much alcohol her dad had consumed because he just gave her a lopsided smile and toasted her with his very empty glass. Her jaw practically dropped when she saw the look of pride he wore on his face.

 

    Wow. That was something. She had earned respect from her dad by practically having sex on a stage with a vampire.  She'd have to remember that one.

 

    There was a flurry of activity off stage that drew Spike's attention away from her deliberate defection, effectively answering Buffy's paranoid question of 'what now?',  A burly man stood just offstage, his size and lack of neck screaming "Bouncer", who began giving a series of curt hand signals to Spike as he apparently barked orders into a handheld. 

 

    "Bloody hell," Spike bit out, his eyes suddenly all business.

 

    "What?" she whispered, suddenly finding herself of the majorally confused. She wanted her Spike back, she realized with growing desperation, suddenly craving that closeness she had shared with him for such a short while. Until she blew it and had acted like super freak.

 

    Not giving her the courtesy of an answer, Spike smashed her back against him roughly and quickly belted out the last stanza of the seeming non-ending song, none of the earlier seductiveness present now. Oh, he was still sexy as hell, but it didn't melt her the way it had before.

 

    Spike still managed to offer a bit of innuendo with the words "Ride your pony" that got her a bit hot, but it was all just for show. Buffy could see and feel the difference now, and this was clearly Spike, the Entertainer at work here.  

 

    The instant the last note faded away, Spike released her and swaggered up to the mic stand. He shoved the microphone into its appropriate slot and addressed the enraptured crowd leaving Buffy standing there with glaring uncertainty.

 

    "We're going to take a quick break, folks," he announced with a sexy smirk before whipping around to grab her hand, pulling her off the stage with him. 

 

    Okay...

 

    The only Spike she had ever really dealt with before was the cocky "I'm going to kill you on Saturday" Spike; but now he just kept continuing to metamorphosis before her very eyes. Now, she'd seen Billy!Spike, Spike the Seducer of young innocents (well, she was!) and now she was dealing with Spike On a Mission. And Caveman Spike was making his presence known with the dragging by the hand thing; which probably left everyone in the club with the impression that he was dragging her backstage to have sex. 

 

    And why did that NOT bother her as much as it should?

 

    "What have we got?" Spike asked grimly, his hand like a vise around Buffy's smaller one.

 

    "It's Bud's gang. They gearing up for an all front assault," the bouncer-guy stated.

 

    "Who's BUD?" Buffy asked in baffled confusion, noting the flurry of activity going on.

 

    Activity that was very familiar to her.

 

    The preparation for battle, something she was more than intimately acquainted with. She realized with a start that half of the bodies moving about were of the undead sort, and she instinctively whipped herself into Slayer mode; searching for possible exits, possible weapons of a wooden persuasion... all while staring hard at Spike while trying to figure out what the HELL was going on.

    "Are we going with plan A or B, boss?" the burly bouncer asked.

 

    "Boss?" Buffy echoed, feeling suddenly like she had stumbled into an alternate reality of some sort. No wonder he'd laughed at her when she said she was going to get him fired.

 

    Spike pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, the very image of concentration.

 

    "Boss...uh, you do know you got the Slayer there?" Bouncer announced curtly, his beefy hand still wrapped around his hand held radio.

 

    Spike offered his undead employee a chilling look.

 

    "Spike...what....?" Buffy asked once more in confusion, her sense of unease growing.

 

    "Got us a gang of vamps gunning to attack the club tonight."

 

    Buffy looked around. "And that is different from this gang of vamps because...?"

 

    Spike tipped his head in their direction. "Cos this lot works for me, that's why."

 

    "Ah of course. That's explains everything," Buffy muttered, wondering why it really did. Since WHEN did she trust Spike? "And why exactly are they attacking the club?"

 

    The smirk he gave her was pure evil seduction. "Because they have a few issues with me, I suppose. Not too happy I'm running them out of what used to be their town."

 

    Alarm shot through her and not the musical sort she had listened to earlier. "You're the Master here?"

 

    That earned a nonchalant shrug. "Guess it depends on how you bloody well look at it."

 

    "And if you were looking at it from my side...? she prompted.

 

    "Then yeah, guess I am."

 

tbc....

 

Chapter 5

 

    Buffy found herself blinking slowly in response to the casual acknowledgement. "Oh."

   

  "Oh? That all you have to say about it?" A slight hint of derision colored his voice.

 

    "I'm sure I'll come up with something more profound later, but honestly right now? I just want to know whose ass needs to be kicked so I can get my dad, his girlfriend and my new potential friend out of here in one piece."  This was of the familiar, this life save-age stuff and adrenaline rushes that had nothing to do with sexy vampires who looked too damn good in leather pants. 

 

    "You gonna fight with me?" Spike looked surprised.

 

    "Let me ask just one question. Does plan A or B involve the premature deaths of anyone in this club by your fangs?" Her look was intent as she waited for his answer; a response she realized she didn't even need to hear. Somehow she kinda already knew he didn't eat his customers, and didn't even want to contemplate the wigginess factor of that one. This Spike was different. She didn't know how or why, but she knew it with dead certainty.

 

    This was a Spike she could fight next to, and more importantly, could trust to watch her back. 

 

    The slightly indignant look he threw her gave her the only answer she needed. "Please. They're my bread and butter. Not about to go offin' them. Bad for business, you know?"

 

    She nodded and smiled softly to show that she really did know and more importantly, that she believed him. "I'm going to need weapons."

 

    The No Neck Bouncer's eyes bulged at that request before snapping to attention. This guy was big with the redneck, Buffy realized, something that had not been lost during his turning. Big and stupid, that was the only way Buffy could think to describe him.

 

     " Boss...  as your top security advisor," No Neck puffed up with self importance, " I just want to say that putting weapons in the Slayer's hands is kinda stupid."

 

    Before Spike could respond, Buffy had whipped out the chopstick holding her hair in place and had kicked the beefy legs out from under the unsuspecting vampire; causing him to fall to the ground with a solid thud. The flurry of activity around them came to an immediate standstill at the loud interruption, and a few of Spike's men moved to intercede, but a fierce look from their boss stopped them deader in their tracks.

 

    Buffy straddled the over-built chest, her knees smashing down to effectively pin his arms by his side. Within a blink of an eye, she had the pointy end of the chopstick positioned strategically over his heart.

 

    "Want to say my hands are stupid now?" Buffy said in a chilly voice, deliberately doing the misquoting thing.

 

    Spike's cock stirred at her little show of violence, relishing the pure menace in her voice. God, he loved her like this, all fire and venom. She was bloody gorgeous, and he was thankful he could finally just admit that to himself without all the self-recriminations.

 

    "Nice move, pet. But, next time you might want to rethink the plastic chopsticks."

 

    Buffy held up the eating utensil and squinted her eyes at it. "Oh crap, I totally thought this was wood."

 

    Another vampire of the No Neck variety rushed up. God, where did Spike get these guys?  "Our window of opportunity has just been shortened. They're already on the move," he barked out, doing a double take at the spectacle on the floor.

 

    Spike let out a roar of irritation. "What happened to the twenty minute ETA?"

 

    No Neck #2 shrugged. "Don't know, boss. But the information is solid."

 

    "Bloody hell." Spike's brain rapidly worked up a plan. "Ok, first order of business is to get the humans away from all the doors, then we'll work on getting them downstairs or something."

 

    "What's downstairs?" Buffy found herself asking, pushing herself up off the vampire she had threatened with the plastic chopstick. After offering a helping hand up, Buffy just shrugged when her gesture was not well received. There was not one part of her brain that questioned Spike's duplicity in all of this, and she shrugged off the wiggy factor once more.  

 

    "The basement. Got it set up kind of like a bomb shelter of sorts, but with class. Leads to the sewers," Spike replied distractedly, as more vampire Bouncers filled the backstage area. They all wore the same uniform of black pants and a tight black tshirt, each sporting radios on their belts and Buffy didn't even want to think what else they were sporting. 

 

    Glaring at Buffy behind Spike's back, the original No Neck bouncer gestured to the stage. "You need to do something about that, Boss."

 

    Buffy finally tuned into the background noise and realized with a start that the crowd was chanting "Billy, Billy, Billy, " continuously. They sounded nothing but anxious to have their "Billy" returned to them, and Buffy couldn't help but roll her eyes.

 

    Spike sighed, and he seemed so human at that moment that Buffy forgot to blink.  

 

    "Yeah, guess we did get them all worked up, then just walked off," Spike remarked to Buffy with a suggestive tilt of his eyebrow.

 

    No Neck Bouncer belted out an ugly laugh and adjusted his crotch, giving Spike a knowing look. "Yeah, kinda of like pushing the pause button in the middle of a porno. I know it gave me a juicy boner."

 

    Buffy didn't even see where it came from, but Spike suddenly had a stake in his hand and his employee was floating to the floor in a small pile of dust.  

 

    She knew her mouth was agape, but didn't seem able to do anything about it as she looked from the pile on the floor, to Spike's grimly set features and back to the pile of dust. 

 

    "He overstepped his bounds," was the only mumbled explanation Spike would give. He stopped one of his men and told him to fetch the Slayer's party of three and bring them backstage.

 

    Confusion flooded her when she heard his order, and for the first time, a hint of doubt began creeping its way through her common sense. Was she just being REALLY gullible?  She was taking so much on faith here, which was ridiculous because hello... vampire, all with the killing and everything. With her dad with her, she left herself even more vulnerable. Buffy looked at Spike, hoping she could read some of his honest intent in his face.

 

    Spike saw the flash of paranoia creep into her eye and found himself desperate to quell her fear. Even with time being of the essence, he allowed himself to haul her sensually to him, and tipped his head to lightly nuzzle her neck, his tongue darting out to trace a path along the warm, pulsing trail he found waiting for him. Buffy instinctively stiffened in response to the heightened alarm of her slayer sense but then his words began to wash over her, filling her, warming her back up again as they were whispered softly; his cool breath teasing her ear causing her to shiver with wicked delight.

 

    "I'm not bringing them back here to eat them, if that's what you're thinking. Or you. Just figured you'd want them someplace safer, is all."

 

    Buffy nodded, her eyes showing the gratitude she felt, before being filled with confusion.  "What happened to you, Spike? Is there a reason for this not-quite-so evil you?"

 

    A small smile played along his full lips leaving Buffy entranced by his sheer beauty. Ever so slowly, his head dipped down and he brushed the briefest of kisses across her lips. "We'll talk this out later."

 

    He released her and took a step back, and Buffy found herself dumbstruck at the intensity of emotion shadowing his face. But then, with a mere cocky toss of his head, he changed before her very eyes.

 

    With a sexy sneer of his upper lip, he became Billy once more and disappeared with a hot, long-strided swagger though the side curtain to be instantly greeted with a burst of thunderous applause and loud enthusiasm.

 

    "Buffy?" she heard her dad ask in confusion from behind her. "What's going on?"

 

Chapter 6

 

    Buffy whipped around, a syrupy smile plastered on her face as she nervously looked around at the flurry of majorally incriminating activity that was going on around her. Thank god nobody was in game face because that would have been so not of the good.

 
    "Are you in some sort of trouble again?" Hank asked, immediately jumping to wrong conclusions and wondering how much he was to blame for it. Maybe he shouldn't have let her dance like that on the stage, he thought in hindsight.... "Is that what all this security is for?"


    "No, I'm not in trouble again," Buffy replied heatedly. God, why was she immediately blamed for everything the second something didn't make sense? Was that explained in the stupid Slayer handbook that she had never received? 

 

    "Go you with all the heavy duty pelvic grind-age! That was wicked hot," Blair exclaimed, her eyes widening appreciatively at the impressive display of muscular bouncers who continued to populate the large backstage area. Buffy's spider sense was driving her insane from being in such close proximity of so many of the undead and she was having to work hard to ignore it. The human to vamp ratio now had the undead in the lead, and Buffy didn't really care for those odds. Her unease grew as more men in black arrived to join in the preparations, giving her a wide berth as they passed by. Buffy was more than fine with that, not really much with the trusting thing.

 

   She trusted Spike. Well, kinda, sorta. To a point, she decided on the spot. She'd be stupid to put ALL her trust in someone whose recent mission in life was to kill her.

 

    His men were a different story however. She was the Slayer, and she was weaponless. Luckily, something that was easily remedied. Since all she had to offer in the way of protection was the not-so-much threat of plastic chopsticks, something with a bit more of an edge to it was her first priority. 

 

    "Are those props?" Sherry asked, pointing to boxes of weapons that were being opened. Buffy missed Sherry studying the weaponry being unloaded with a discerning eye, a look of intense curiosity overtaking her petite features as she beheld some of the older weapons being handed out.  

 

    "Oh yeah, total props. I think Spike is going to do some Knights of the Round Table revival or something," Buffy improvised lamely as she walked over to retrieve a large handled antique battle ax from one of the numerous selections. Slinging it easily over her shoulder, she rolled her eyes at the sudden fearful looks of those undead in her immediate vicinity.

 

    "Somehow, I'm just not seeing it," Sherry announced, her eyes searching Buffy's face quizzically. "

 

    "Buffy... I'm afraid I'm a little confused. Why exactly are we back here? And who is Spike?" Sobriety seemed to have become Hank's friend and Buffy was frantically trying to come up with a logical explanation that would explain this whole thing. Well, without REALLY explaining it.

 

    Because going into the whole Chosen thing? So not what she felt like going into right now.

 

    Luckily for her, Spike came striding through the curtain, immediately becoming her Spike again the second he was off the stage. Ack, since when was he HER Spike? Bad thoughts.

 

    This Spike looked like sauntering danger, cold determination etched on his focused features as his intense eyes sought her out immediately . 

 

    "Got the evacuation going," he announced to her, accepting a radio from one of his men, "I've got a group of men on that, getting them downstairs."

 

    "How'd you manage that one?" Buffy asked, thankful for the interruption even though she knew her dad was listening to every word.

 

    "Told them some git bombed the mens crapper and the club was about to be flooded in shit. Luckily for them, before the smell became an issue, I was opening our new Basement addition up early, and drinks were on the house the rest of the night."

 

    "Very 'Caddyshack' of you," Buffy replied dryly, rolling her eyes.

 

    His answering grin warmed her, then his attention was focused on the mission.  "What's the eta?"

 

    The No Neck bouncer shrugged grimly. "I lost contact.  Our visual has been lost."

   

    "Buggering fuck!" Spike bit out, going to the curtain to check out the progress of clearing out the top level. "We got any of those stink bombs?" He asked No Neck. When given the affirmative, Spike ordered, "Go ahead and unleash one of those. Maybe that'll get their soddin' feet moving a bit quicker."

 

    No Neck scurried away to do Spike's bidding.

 

    "Buffy, what in the HELL is going on here?" Hank asked once more, his voice becoming more forceful due to his escalating confusion. 

 

    "Dad, I'll tell you in a minute ok?" Buffy replied, then turned back to Spike.
 

    "If you knew where they were, why didn't you try to stop them on the way?" Buffy found herself asking, accepting the weapons and radio Spike handed her.  She was well aware of the shocked looks of her 'party' but there were other things more important right now.

   
    "Could have," Spike replied, "but it's Friday night. Too many people out there.  An all out and out vampire fight in the middle of the street? Too risky. To many unknowns."

 

    "A WHAT?" Hank interrupted. "Buffy, I need to talk to you. You will say goodnight to this...man, and we're leaving. Now."

 

   Shaking off the parental hand that attempted to grab her arm, Buffy continued her conversation with Spike. "So, you are fighting on familiar ground, is that it?" 

 

    Spike nodded, opening a trunk that held Kevlar vests. Slipping one on, he handed one to Buffy. "Got more control this way."

 

    Hank sighed darkly. "I didn't want to listen to your mother, you know. I didn't want to believe that you were a trouble maker... Bring you to a club, you get involved in gang warfare...."

 

    Spike shot Hank a black look. "Are you an idiot? The girl isn't a troublemaker, you git."

   
    Sherry picked up the battle ax that Buffy had set down and began examining it. "This is beautiful craftsmanship," she announced reverently, turning it over to study the other side. Shooting a direct look at Buffy, she asked, "These aren't props, are they?" 

 

    Buffy shook her head in a distracted manner. "No."

 

    "Oh god, your mother is going to have a field day with this one," Hank grumbled, covering his face with the palms of his hands.

 

    "Dad, I'm sorry. We can talk about this later, but right now I just need you to trust me, ok? Can you do that?" Buffy pleaded.

 

    Spike called three of his men over. "Need to get this lot downstairs. They belong to the Slayer. Anything happens to them, and you'll be praying for a quick dusting, got it?" he threatened, then looked at the one human among them. "And you'll be be strung up by your entrails and left to rot."

 

    The men nodded gravely and turned to the group in question. "Come with us, we'll get you downstairs."

 

    "You're sparing three of your men to protect them?" Buffy asked, oddly touched.

 

    Spike shrugged uncomfortably. "Wanted your focus on the fight, is all."

 

    Buffy's dad refused to go. "Buffy, I need to know just what is going on. This is ridiculous."

 

    With reverent eyes, Sherry put a hesitant hand on Buffy's arm. "You're...a Slayer?"

 

    Suspicion immediately took over. "How do you know about Slayers?" Buffy demanded, tensing with anticipation.

 

Tbc...

6

    "It was supposed to be a myth," Sherry replied, studying Buffy's reactions closely. Could it really be true? Oh god, suddenly Sherry hoped with everything that was in her that it was.

 

    Buffy's face remained suspicious and immobile, and she suddenly wished Giles was with her. This was probably another thing covered in the Slayer handbook-What to Do When Confronted and Asked if you Really Exist: Pages 102-104  

 

    "What do you know about Slayers?" Buffy repeated, her voice telling Sherry that she was not to be trifled with.

 

    "Sherry, what are you talking about? My daughter isn't...anything," Hank announced with baffled look.

 

    "Gee, thanks dad. I'm really feeling the love here." 

 

    "That's not what I meant, young lady, and you know it," Hank insisted. "Sherry, what exactly are you asking?"

 

    Sherry turned to look at Hank but directed her words at Buffy. "During my research for my thesis-I have a masters in art history- I came across an obscure book with depictions of a girl referred to as 'the Slayer'," Sherry began. "It was amazing, the most incredible thing I had ever seen. The thing was, it didn't read like fiction. So I tried tracking down where the book originated from, but I came up with one dead end after another. It was almost as if the thing never existed. Then someone broke into my house one night and that was one of the things that turned up missing."

 
     'Yeah, well that sure reeks of the Council,'  Buffy thought to herself. Her stance became less hostile as it became apparent that Sherry was not a threat to her.

    "Yeah, mom was major obsessed, let me tell you," Blair announced, studying Buffy carefully. She had always thought her mom's obsession was kind of off, but the whole myth WAS cool. Buffy... a Slayer? Nah, too weird. Her mom was whacked on this one.

   
    "I guess you could say it became my obsession. I traced it as far as England, and then the trail turned cold. It's always in the back of mind though.  But it was incredible. I know I keep repeating that, but there was just something about the whole thing. The pictures, the stories..." Her voice trailed off in awed reverence and she looked at Buffy once more.

 

    Are you...?"

 

    Buffy's mouth flattened to a grim line, then sighed with resignation. "Maybe."

 

    "Sherry, what are you talking about?" Hank asked again, desperately wishing he hadn't consumed as much alcohol as he had in such a short period of time.

 

    Sherry took a step closer to Buffy, her face filled with a sense of profound wonderment. "I had the feeling there was more to the story, that's why it gripped me so. Wait." Her eyes widened with dawning realization.  "If you're real, then that means...."

 

    "I think we better talk about this later, ok? In case you hadn't noticed, but now is really not the time for me to come out of the closet."

 

    "Are vampires real?" Sherry pressed as if Buffy had not spoken.

 

    Buffy couldn't help the small snort that escaped and hoped that Sherry hadn't heard it. Swinging a crossbow over her shoulder, she replied, "Yeah."

 

    "Are you both out of your mind?" Hank asked, his eyes wide with incredulity.

 

    "See, I told you we didn't have time for this! He's so not going to get it!" Buffy accused Sherry, then called over her shoulder, "Spike!"

 

   Spike turned around from his conference with a group of his men. "What?"

 

    "Can you show them that vampires are real?"

 

    "What?"

 

    Her nervousness gave way to irritation. "Vampires. Proof. Hello?"

 

    "Oh. Right." With a coarse grinding of facial bones, Spike's face slid into his vampiric visage; then just as quickly, smoothed it out. He looked at Buffy. "That good enough?"

 

    "Better be," Buffy grumbled, just wanting to get to the ass kicking part of the evening, now having even more extra tension she needed to work out. "Your game face looks funny with make-up on though. Anyone ever tell you that?"

 

    "Fuck you, Slayer." Spike turned his attention back to his men and Buffy looked at her dad, who now appeared frightened. Somehow, this proving her innocence thing just wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been.

 

    "Why are you looking at me like you're scared of me, dad?" Buffy asked slowly, certain that her night could not get any worse.

 

    Hank shook his head and was just about to answer when a loud boom was heard and the earth began moving under their feet. A gaping hole became visible in the back wall when the cloud of residual smoke died down. 

 

    "Since when do vamps use explosives?" Buffy cried, eyes widening as a stream of the undead began pouring through the new access.

 

    "Get down!" Buffy yelled at her dad, pushing Sherry and Blair behind a table.  She threw them a couple of stakes. "Any of them come after you, stick this through their heart."

 

    "Just like in the book?" Sherry asked

 

    Buffy allowed a brief smile to light up her face. "Just like in the book, Sherry."

 

    With that, Hank watched his only daughter jump into the fray and could only watched stunned at what he was witnessing.

 

    Risking a whisper to Sherry, he asked, "What exactly IS a slayer?"

 

    "According to the book I found, it's just one girl Chosen to fight vampires. That's why I thought it was just a myth, but there was just something about the way it was written," Sherry replied, wishing she had a camera to memorialize this moment. "Your daughter is incredible, Hank. Look at her."

 

    And for the first time, Hank saw his daughter through new eyes. And she was magnificent

 

**********
Two weeks later

 

    Buffy brutally stabbed her tater tots which put her lunch tray in major peril. Using her quick reflexes, she caught it just on the brink of disaster before it tumbled to the cafeteria floor. 

 

    It had been two weeks since that night.Two long, lonely and boring weeks of virtual HELL on the Hellmouth.

 

     Major ass had been kicked that night in LA, but did Buffy manage to have a happy ever after? 

 

    Why no, of course not. Thanks for asking. 

 

    After they had dusted the last vamp, Moron Spike said, "good work, Slayer," handed her over to her father and then JUST WALKED THE FREAK AWAY!

 

    And in two weeks? She hadn't heard a word. She was beyond miserable and pissed at herself for getting so bent out of shape about SPIKE of all... things that it just made her that much more damage bound.  How DARE he ignore what she knew damn well he had felt too! He owed her anyway, for helping with those lame gang vamps. The stupid jerk hadn't even thanked her, just sauntered away with his buns looking majorally grab-able in those wicked hot leather pants. Probably went to go blow the 'crapper' up so he could maintain his little story for his little groupies that went to see him night after night. 

 

    Not fair.

 

    Now her dad was in on the "big" secret, and that was all kinds of good. They were working up to a time to tell her mom, but Buffy was just thankful for one parental support unit.  Sherry was driving her nuts with phone calls and questions, but in a good way, and she really missed Blair, who had been the only one to keep her sane these past two weeks.

 

 

    Her dad had wanted to tell her mom right away, but Buffy talked him out of it. Shockingly, he agreed, and it was just nice to  to see how proud he was of her; over something besides pelvic grinding with sexy vamps on stage anyway. But no one had been hurt that night and because it happened behind the stage, the patrons were none the wiser, leaving Buffy to believe that people in LA were just as stupid as they were in Sunnydale. 

   

    Because Buffy knew if she told her mom about the whole Slayer gig, she would have to tell her about the battle which would lead to Hank taking Buffy to a club in the first place and Hank was more than happy to dodge that bullet, not eager to experience the ex-wife issued anticipated lectures of parental irresponsibility. 

 

    Not to mention that Spike was not a name she wanted brought up in Sunnydale. Buffy knew Giles would have cow-age of massive proportions if he knew Buffy not only had not staked Spike, but assisted him in battle to defend his title as the Master of Los Angeles. And how could she tell her friends that she did some major dirty dancing with her mortal enemy on a stage in front of her dad and however many people?

 

    "Earth to Buffy, come in Buffy," Xander called, frowning at the once again distracted Buffster.

 

    Buffy shot her head up from her intent focus of destroying what the school cafeteria decided to pass as food that day.  "Sorry, Xan, was I being Space Case Buffy again?"

 

    "Well maybe a little," Willow replied. "What with the mutterings and dark looks, plus you with the stabbage of the lunchy goodness. It kinda makes you wonder."

 

    Buffy flashed them an apologetic smile, something she had been doing quite frequently lately.  "Sorry guys. I guess things are just kinda getting to me lately."

 

    "Not getting your smoochies from Angel?" Willow asked sympathetically, thinking she had a clue as to what was troubling her friend.

 

    Buffy worked hard to smother her panic face. "Uh, maybe something like that." Poor Angel. She'd been all avoidy girl and Angel was starting to get suspicious that something was up and had taken to following her around.  His bleak face was starting to get on her last nerve.

 

    "Ah yes, the old sexual frustration. Know it well," Xander announced, settling in his chair and tipping it back on two legs. Realizing what he had revealed, Xander hurried to amend his statement; causing the other two girls to brush away his lame attempts at regaining his studly status. Or lack thereof.

 

    The bell that signaled the return to hell rang, and the threesome got up with a synchronized groan.
 

    "Hey, we Bronzing it tonight, or what?" Xander asked.

 

    "I think Bronzing goodness is just what Buffy needs," Willow announced, linking arms with her friend. "I hear there is a new band playing tonight too. Think Angel will want to go?"

 

    Buffy barely managed to refrain from saying "I hope not," saving herself by giving a vague answer. She missed the worried look that Xander and Willow shared over her head, as she was once again lost in Buffy-land.

 a/n-Not much happens in this chapter, just a warning!  Unbeta'd chapter

 Chapter 8

 

    Willow dropped her text books on the research table with a profound sigh of relief, having found the sheer number of volumes she had insisted on carrying far too much for her slight frame.  And she had aching arms to prove it.

 

      "Is school over with already?" Giles asked walking out of his office, not even bothering to remove his nose from the book he had gripped in his hands.

 

    "Already?" Xander complained, throwing himself into one of the chairs. "It's been the day without infernal end, and you have the nerve,the gall, the very gumption to say 'already'?"

 

    Giles ignored him, which surprised no one.

 

    Chewing her bottom lip, Willow decided to voice her lingering concerns. "Giles... do you know what is bothering Buffy?"

 

    Attention now properly diverted, Giles's head snapped up from his book.  "Why on earth do you think there is something amiss with Buffy"

 

    Willow played with a loose thread on the sleeve of her fluffy, green sweater. "Well, uh, because she's not acting like our Buffy. You know... with the usual perky goodness goodness and everything."

 

    "I'll say," Xander agreed, then his eyes bulged from his head as he thought of something. "You don't think she's been possessed or something do you? Because demon possession? So not of the good."

 

    "Really Xander, don't be ridiculous," Giles scolded, his brows settling into a firm line. "She appears right as rain to me. In fact, she hasn't even quarreled with me over patrolling duties or.... Oh good lord. How could I have missed this?"

 

    Willow nodded in sympathy at the stricken look on Giles' face. "Yep. She's been all bummed out Buffy ever since she got back from visiting her dad in LA."

 

    "Has it been that long?" Giles asked, pushing his glasses securely onto the bridge of his nose.  "That was two weeks ago, if I remember correctly?"

 

    Willow nodded. "I wonder if something happened down there."

 

    Giles' brow furrowed just a fraction more. "I haven't the foggiest.  My reports haven't indicated any unusual occurrences in Los Angeles. Well, aside from an increase in territorial issues, so I am inclined to believe it wasn't anything demon related. Besides, I do believe she would have informed me if it had been such. If anything, demon activity is at a low, which is an oddity in itself. Could she possibly be having issues with...er, Angel?"

 

    "Not that I know. She is being all avoidy Buffy, and won't talk to me. I mean, I'm only her best friend," Willow uttered in a slightly hurt voice. "Maybe it's just the whole slaying gig that is getting her down. Or hey! Maybe it's because her dad is finally moving on and has a girlfriend now. That has to be weird."

 

    "Yes, well, I shall talk to her and ask her what has her distracted."

 

    "Not sure if that's the way to go, G-Man. You know how Buffy is," Xander pointed out.

 

    "What would you suggest then?" Giles knew he had sunk to an all time low when he was seeking advice from Xander.

 

    "Well, we're doing the whole Bronzing thing tonight. Maybe she just needs a nice slay-free evening," Xander commented, actually surprising Giles with his insight. "With her Watcher there in a un-Watcherly role."

 

    "Yes, well, I shall take that into consideration." Giles grimaced as he realized that he would most likely be spending the evening at the Bronze.

 

**********

 

    Buffy found herself getting ready that night with little enthusiasm. Sitting at home in full mope-mode was sounding better and better, but not something she knew she could get away with. She'd gotten a load of Willow's resolve face, knowing she'd be bad friend Buffy if she flaked out.

 

    She hated being in mope mode. Because feeling all gloomy because she got the brush off from a vampire? Well, a DIFFERENT vampire? Buffy couldn't really see her friends getting a handle on that one.

 

    She stood in front of her open closet as she perused its jumbled contents. What to wear.... Figuring she had better make an effort with her appearance, she grabbed one of her better outfits, not even realizing the significance of pairing a black leather mini with a blood-red, filmy see-through blouse, and a black crop top underneath. Her knee high ass-kicking boots completed her ensemble, giving her a decidedly 'Big Bad' look. Sweeping her hair up into an easy French twist, she was ready to go.

 

    Her mood had not improved on the way to the Bronze. Having told her mother her evening plans, she'd had to endure the pained looks, the face filled with distrust and finally bore the "Buffy, please try not to get into any trouble. I worry about you."

 

    Please. 'I'm not a trouble maker!!', she wanted to shout.

 

    'But you want to be...' the little voice decided to speak up in her ear.

 

   Ok fine, yes, she did. And it made her do things like... calling Rebel Yell to talk to Spike. Of course she was such a badass chickenshit, she wound up slamming the phone down with a burst of nervous adrenaline every time someone answered the phone. Her mom was so going to wig when she saw the next phone bill. That's how bad she was.

 

    Buffy wasn't aware of the scowl that had settled on her face when she met up with her friends in front of the Bronze.

 

    "Hey Buff... what's with the bad moodies?" Xander asked, not so discreetly checking her out, deciding his friend look pretty hot.

 

    "Huh?" Buffy asked, her eyes blinking as she was drawn out of her inner turmoil.

 

    "You're all with the sad face," Willow told her.

 

    "Oh, sorry. Kinda got into it with my mom before I left," Buffy answered somewhat truthfully.

 

    They walked in after paying their cover charges and Buffy was hit with a sense of nostalgia.  It suddenly occurred to her that Spike had his club modeled after the Bronze. What was up with that?

 

    Finding their usual table free and unoccupied, Xander left the two girls to go secure beverages before the line got any longer.

 

    "So...how are you doing, Buffy?" Willow asked.

 

    "Me? Oh, I'm all with the good, " Buffy brazened out, playing with a cocktail napkin that was left on the table. "That's me. Good Girl Buffy." A snort escaped her at that statement that had Willow puzzled.

 

    "Is Angel coming tonight?"

 

    Buffy shrugged, her attention focused on the napkin she was shredding. "Dunno. Didn't get a chance to talk to him."

 

    "Did something happen in LA?" Willow asked with a rush.

 

    Buffy's head jerked up. "What? No," she immediately protested. "Ok well, my dad found out I was the Slayer, that was kind of a big."

 

    "WHAT?" Willow exclaimed, hurt that Buffy hadn't shared this before now. "What happened?"

 

    "Vamp attack. Couldn't exactly hide it when Buffy made vamp go poof, you know?" she answered, more or less speaking the truth.

 

    "Did he totally wig? Does your mom know?"

 

    "Oh he was all about the wiggage, let me tell you. And no, mom doesn't know yet. We're waiting to tell her."

 

    "But this is good, right?" Willow asked, trying to figure out why Buffy hadn't disclosed this before and how it fit in with the Distractro girl routine.

 

    "Yeah, it is." Buffy allowed a short bittersweet smile to grace her lips before shrugging off her morosity. She looked up perkily as Xander approached with drinks in hand.

 

    "Hey check it out, drinks are half price tonight," Xander commented while setting down the glasses. "Diet coke for the Buffster, ShirleyTemple for Wills, and for myself... the manly rootbeer."

 

    "Wow. Half price? What's the occasion?" Willow asked, taking a sip of her drink.

 

    "I think The Bronze is under new ownership or something. Wasn't big on the why, just wanted to know for 'how long,' " Xander replied, eyeing Giles trudging his way uncomfortably through the crowd.

 

    "Good evening," the Watcher greeted upon arriving at their table, looking his version of casual after trading in his usual tweed for a bulky sweater.

 

    Buffy looked up at him with little surprise. "Ok, what needs to be killed?"

 

   Giles looked slightly startled. "Pardon me? Oh, why, nothing, as a matter of fact. I just thought perhaps I would join you."

 

    A suspicious spark was lit and Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Alright, what's going on?"

 

    Giles and Xander looked hopelessly at Willow. The redhead slipped her resolve face firmly in place and replied, "Nothing is going on. Well, not in a going on sense. We just, uh, thought some bonding time might be of the good. Thought maybe it was lacking a little lately."

 

    Buffy raised her eyebrows. "So you asked Giles to the Bronze?" She noticed the looks that they passed each other and sighed inwardly.  They were trying... the least she could do is make the same effort.

 

    "Yeah, well it's a good night for him to be here. Hey Giles, drink are half price at the bar."

 

    A small glimmer of hope creased his face. "Half price, you say?" Without waiting for a reply, Giles was on his feet and heading for the bar, thankful that at least something was going his way tonight.  The loud, crowded atmosphere of the Bronze was not his cup of tea in the slightest, and the live music hadn't even begun yet. Giles could only hope they had some grasp of the complexities of music, not sure he could stand to listen to truly bad artists.

 

    Giles found a line at the bar and wondered if his night could get any worse.

 

tbc

 

        As if on cue, activity began on the stage; signaling the beginning of the live portion of the evening. Giles knew there wasn't much hope for a semblance of an enjoyable evening, and just held on to the optimism that the allure of half-price beverages would make up somewhat for the club's obvious shortcomings.

 

    Finally paying for his drinks, Giles walked back to the table, reminding himself along the way that this was for Buffy. His Slayer. He owed this to her.

 

    "Bit thirsty there, G-man?"

 

    Giles gave Xander a hard look. "If you think I am going to stand in that bloody line again, you are quite mistaken," he told the boy tersely to explain the four bottles of imported beer he placed on the table.

 

    "And hey, can't beat half-price...." .

 

    "Quite right," Giles muttered, pouring the first bottle primly into the mug he had also procured.

 

    "So might I inquire what type of music this band plays?" Giles asked out of politeness.

 

    "Here's me with the not knowingness," Willow replied. "I even asked Oz, but he hasn't heard about it either."

 

    "When is the Oz-man getting back?" Xander questioned, trying to figure out a way to relieve Giles out of one of his bottles of beer.

 

    "Tomorrow night," Willow answered with a happy smile.

 

    When Buffy saw the increase in stage activity, she had some major stabbage of deja vu. With a determined look, she turned her chair around so that her back was presented to the stage.

   
    'Take that, band guys,' she thought pettily. Pasting on another perky smile for her friends benefit, she thought longingly once more of being at home and not having to keep up this pretense of enjoyment.  

 

    "So Buffy," Giles began stiffly, unused to this mindless conversational aspect of Watching, "is there anything you care to discuss?"

 

    'Huh? Discuss? Did he know something?' Buffy thought frantically, her eyes suddenly widening with barely veiled panic. "Um...not so much, no."

 

    Looks were passed around as each of them caught Buffy's panicked reaction to Giles' vague questioning.

 

    "Are you sure, Buffy? Because you know, we are your friends. You can tell us anything and we won't wig," Willow commented soothingly, her sense that something was amiss now truly escalated. Even though she had already asked her friend this same question, Willow was hoping that the group support might shake loose what was really bothering Buffy.

 

     'Yeah, how about I have the major hots for Spike,' Buffy thought derisively, ' that'll go over so well.'

 

    "Yep, I'm sure," Buffy lied. "Alls well in the world of Buffy."

 

    The looks she received told her that she was fooling nobody, and she risked a glance over at Giles who had his patented 'worried' look on his face.

 

    "Yes, well, be that as it may," Giles began, spooling up for what was sure to be a boring lecture, "If by chance you find yourself..."

 

    His voice was cut off by the beginning chords of a guitar and Buffy leapt at the timely interruption.

 

    "Oh look! The band is starting!" Buffy announced in a cheery tone, clearly stating the obvious. "Let's listen."

 

    Then time seemed to stand still, her heart HAD to have stopped beating and she forgot to breath as she recognized the intro music. 'Oh my god...' she cried inwardly, afraid to turn around and face the stage. 'Coincidence. Just a coincidence... One really weird, Billy freaky coincidence...'

 

    She squeezed her eyes shut, her emotions barreling out of control. Part of her rejoiced at the possibility, but the other part had her gut sinking in fear. Not here, not NOW!!

 

    "Hey, isn't this a Billy Idol song?" Xander asked, watching the stage intently. "Oh great. Don't tell me we get to listen to a crappy cover band all night."

 

    The suspense built as the singer stayed in the wings, the back up band extending the intro smoothly, looking nonplussed by the absence of their singer.

 

    But Buffy didn't need to see the singer to know. She already knew. The tingling at the back of her neck was more than enough to clue her in that a powerful vampire was in the immediate vicinity. She looked at the table longingly, hoping it would swallow her up in the next, oh... minute. NO! Make that...second.

 

    'I'm not turning around, I'm not turning around,' she fiercely told herself, finding her glass of diet coke suddenly fascinating.

 

    She knew the moment he took the stage. She could practically feel him, his entire presence practically pulsating through the club, the same frenetic energy he brought to his LA act.

 

    "What the..." Xander exclaimed in confusion, "How in the Holy frijole hot sauce did they get Billy Idol booked for the BRONZE?"

 

    'oh my god, oh my god! This is sooo not happening!' Buffy thought frantically trying to work on preventing herself from hyperventilating, as she scooted down in her chair knowing the entire time what a wasted effort it was. One thing she knew with absolute certainty, she was NEVER sitting near a stage again, 'usual' table be damned.

 

    "I don't think that is Billy Idol...." Willow observed, wearing the same perplexed look on her face that many in the club sported. "Is it?"

 

    "Looks like Billy Idol to me," Xander commented. "What do you think Buffy? Billy, yah or nay?"

 

    Buffy's eyes widened at the question as she tried to quell the anxiety rushing through her. "Oh yeah, that's totally Billy Idol." She nodded emphatically to get her point across. "Soo Billy."

 

    Xander and Willow exchanged looks. "Well, gee Buffy. How can you even tell with your back to the stage and everything?" Xander prodded suspiciously.

 

    Buffy tried for indignant. "What? I have to sit and watch him? Ew! I hate Billy Idol!"

 

    "Uh, that's kind of the point of going to see a band," Willow added, becoming more and more suspicious by Buffy's bizarre refusal to turn around and look at the stage. "And haven't I heard you playing Billy Idol this week?"

 

    "Ok, fine. Here's me being all Turn Around Girl," Buffy huffed, grabbing the arms of her chair and loudly scooting it so she was facing the stage.

 

    And she forgot how to breath. Again.

 

    Even though he was wearing dark sunglasses, she knew he was watching her, a knowing smirk on his face at her deliberate avoidance, and she couldn't help the drool that immediately pooled in her mouth as her eyes devoured him. DAMN HIM! He was wearing those leather pants again, slung low on his lean hips, held up by a chunky leather, silver studded belt that was threaded through the belt loops. Buffy found her eyes traveling south against her will, and she inwardly sighed with appreciation. 

 

     He had decked himself circa 80's Billy, complete with a thick, black leather studded bracelet around one wrist, and a lonely leather glove decorating the other hand. There was a huge ornate dagger necklace around his neck that seemed to caress the backdrop of his glistening, muscled chest, pulling all eyes to his spectacular body on display. His entire torso was bare, and Buffy could see the little dagger earrings dangling from his ears. Feminine? Not so much.  Heavy use had been made of make up once more, even though Buffy couldn't see his eyes behind the black Ray Bans, and the platinum blonde hair was once again in a full upright position-and god help her if he wasn't the sexiest thing she had ever seen.

 

   But WHAT was he doing?? God, couldn't he just... pick up the phone and call her like any normal guy?

 

    And therein was the problem. He WASN'T any normal guy. This was SPIKE, seriously dangerous vampire who had killed her kind before.

 

      Yeah, and the same vampire she couldn't stop thinking about either.

 

    "Damn. Billy's gotten pretty buff," Xander commented with envy coloring his voice.

 

    "Xander, I really don't think that is Billy. Isn't Billy...older?" Willow asked.

+++++++

    Fondling the microphone stand with slow deliberate strokes, Spike just stood there, basking in the confusion his presence on this stage had brought. He could care less about that though, there was only one person whose reaction he cared about. His still heart seemed to squeeze with a now fully admittable emotion when he saw Buffy sitting with her group of friends, studiously attempting to ignore him. Christ, she was adorable.

 

    And now she was giving him that patented plastic courtesy smile? Even better. Well, he'd just wipe that phony smile right off her face, now wouldn't he? Give her something to REALLY smile about. Just like last time...

 

    Putting his mouth to the microphone, Spike announced with a sneer, "Let's get things started with a little rockin', shall we?" He ignored the confused looks he was getting. This was all about her, and he was damned well going to work it. God knows he'd gone to enough trouble and expense to get her right where he wanted her, and he wasn't letting her walk away this time.

 

    "This song is for a girl I know," he smirked, allowing his eyes to settle on the girl in question.

 

tbc...

   

 

        Spike gave a curt nod to his musicians, a new group that he had brought here to good ole Sunnyhell.  He had left the other band members in Los Angeles, their expertise sorely needed now that his act had been removed from the club's billing.

    Bringing the mic to his deliberately pouty lips, Spike began his opening number.

Hey little sister what have you done
Hey little sister who's the only one
Hey little sister who's your superman
Hey little sister who's the one you want
Hey little sister shot gun!

It's a nice day to start again
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.

   

    Buffy sat in absolute shock as his melodious voice began washing over her until everything else faded away; leaving only the vampire before her.  WAIT! He was singing her WHITE WEDDING???  That in itself was cause for freakage of massive proportions. Because the thought of marriage and Buffy?  She was only sixteen years old!

 

    But once again, Spike managed to give new meaning to a song she had heard a million time before and never really listened to the words.

 

    With the dark shades Spike wore, his penetrating gaze was known only to her as she felt the heat of it, filling her veins with sudden desire and she had wanted so badly to look into those beautiful eyes of his.  Eyes that weren't much with the evil anymore, for whatever reason.

 

    "See? I TOLD you it was Billy Idol!" Xander gloated, looking over at Giles who wore a peculiar look on his face. "Oh, you've probably never even heard of Billy Idol, have you? He was really big in the 80's."

 

    Giles sent him a scornful look. "You little twat, I'll have you know I saw him live before he was even with Generation X. Back in the day when music was still music."

 

    "Generation what?" Xander echoed, earning another disgusted glare from the Watcher. 

 

    "So, is it Billy Idol or not?" Willow asked, now finding herself torn. Because the voice and the moves? Total Billy.

 

     A guy at the table next to theirs turned around and echoed the question. "Is it him? Because it really looks and sounds like him."

 

    "Yeah, that's what we're trying to figure out. Sure glad they introduced the band and everything," Xander commented snidely over the loud music. A sadistic grin settled over his face as he thought of something. "Hey, speaking of Billy wannabe's, it's too bad Spike's not here. He'd be really jealous, I bet. Too bad he took his fruitcake and bailed out of town."

 

  Hey little sister who is your with
Hey little sister what's your fasinish
Hey little sister shot gun (oh yeah)
Hey little sister who's your superman
Hey little sister shot gun!

It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.

(Pick it up)

Take me back home

Hey little sister what have you done
Hey little sister who's the only one
I've been away for so long (so long)
I've been away for so long (so long)
I let you go for so long

    It's a nice day to start again (come on)
It's a nice day for a white wedding
It's a nice day to start again.

There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start again
 

    And suddenly Buffy realized that Spike had picked this song for a reason, not merely to shake her up with words of weddings and stuff. He was asking her a question. In his own demented way, Spike had orchestrated this entire thing to ask her if she'd give him a chance. 

 

   But she could she risk it?

 

    A small, feminine smile curved across her lips, genuine in its response this time as she found the answer within herself. Really, the only answer there could be, regardless of how insane or bizarre the whole thing was.

 

    Xander noticed her change of demeanor. "Hey, I thought you didn't like Billy Idol," he asked suspiciously.

 

    Buffy ignored him as the song drew to a close only to be met with a fascinated silence from the club, so different from his usual gigs in LA. Then a spontaneous burst of applause erupted, and Spike threw the crowd a sexy leer.

 

    "God, I totally didn't even realize Billy Idol was so hot! Where have I been?" Buffy heard a teenage girl announce to her friend at a table behind them and a small surge of jealousy welled up inside of her.

 

    This was HER Billy.

 

    ****

 

    Spike had poured everything he had into that one song, knowing the significance of a White Wedding was probably asking for trouble, at least as far as this girl was concerned.

 

    But she got it. He could tell the moment it dawned on her, what it was he was really asking. Asking, hell... practically begging for.

 

    Just a chance. A mere crumb.

 

    And he'd managed to get a real smile back on her face, life was good. He didn't even acknowledge the crowds response, they weren't important.

 

    She was.

 

    With a defiant shake of the head, he smirked at the crowd once more. "How 'bout we do another, eh?"

 

    Spike didn't want for a response, merely signaled the band to begin the next set.

 

    A very distinctive guitar riff was plucked, to be followed with a heated burst of the drums and Spike felt the music take him over. He raised his bent arm and shook his fist at the audience, his lips curled in the very picture of rebellious defiance. He thrust his hips forward and ran his hand slowly down his thigh, every move perfectly executed to add to the illusion of the pop star.

 

    Rushing the microphone, he grabbed it in his hands, tucking the stand between his legs as his eyes once more found the girl who made all of his effort worth while.

 

Last night a little dancer
Came dancin’ to my door
Last night a little angel
Came pumping on the floor
She said a come baby
I’ve got a license for love
And if it expires
Pray help from above
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Owww
In the midnight hour, babe
More, more, more
With a rebel yell
More, more, more
More, more, more

She don’t like slavery
She won’t sit and beg
But when I’m tired and lonely
She sees me to bed
What set you free
And brought you to me, babe
What set you free
I need you here by me
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Wowww

 

    Feeling the moisture pool between her legs at the seductive words and suggestive motions Spike was displaying on stage, Buffy knew without a doubt that there was no hidden question behind this song. No deep meaning that was concealed behind a veil of seemingly innocent lyrics.

 

    This was foreplay.

 

    And Buffy cursed him inwardly for it; for allowing all eyes of female persuasion to feast themselves on his scrumptious flesh while he was whipping HER into such a heated frenzy. 

 

    'Well, what do you expect, Buffy?' she scolded herself. 'Hello? Evil vampire, you know.'

 

    "Buffy... BUFFY."

 

    Her name finally penetrated her lust-addled brain and she turned with a dazed look to face Willow. "What?"

 

    "Are you ok? You look kinda... flushed."

 

    "Oh, she's probably just lusting over the body of Billy Idol," Xander commented unnecessarily. "Like everyone else around here. Don't these people know he's OLD. He's got to be what? 40?"

 

   Buffy had to work hard to contain the snort that wanted to follow Xander's comment.

 

    "I beg your pardon," Giles interrupted, offended by the age comment.

 

    "Oh uh.. sorry Giles," Xander mumbled, not really sure what he was apologizing for. "HEY! Why does Billy Idol keep staring at me?"

 

    "What? No, he's not," Willow protested, then noticed the direction of Billy's focus. "Oh uh, maybe he is."

 

    Xander started to squirm in his seat. "Oh I know how it is with these aging rock stars. They think a little young meat keeps them all youthful."

 

    Buffy couldn't help giggling at that, then looked properly chagrined at the look Xander sent her. "Sorry Xander. I shouldn't mock your meaty appeal."

 

    "Damn right you shouldn't!" Xander informed her, looking around nervously as he found Billy Idol's gaze focused once again in his direction. "Ok, now this is just freaking me out."

He lives in his own heaven
Collects it to go from the seven eleven
Well he’s out all night to collect a fare
Just so long, just so long it don’t mess up his hair
Oww ha

I walk the ward for you, babe
A thousand miles with you
I dried your tears of pain
A million times for you
I’d sell my soul for you, babe
For money to burn for you
I’d give you all and have none, babe
Just a, just a, just a, just a
To have you here by me
Because

In the midnight hour
She cried more, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
Wowww
In the midnight hour, babe
More, more, more
With a rebel yell
She cried more, more, more
More, more, more

    "Ok, that's it. He said 'he' not 'she'," Xander accused. "As in, 'HE cried more more more. I am beyond grossed out here."

 

    "Xander, I don't think he did," Willow tried to interrupt.

 

    "Oh yes he did! He wants me to be his Oh Billy Butt Monkey."

 

    That did it for Buffy. The laughter that had been suppressed for the last two weeks peaked and flowed in a torrential rush.  Maintaining eye contact with Spike, she could see his eyebrow lifted in silent question at her amusement and just gave him a big smile.

 

   Hesitantly, Spike extended his hand in her direction with a silent question; and while Xander continued to insist that Billy Idol was singing him homosexual lyrics, Buffy allowed herself to be pulled onto stage.

 

    Again.

 

    "Oh GOOD LORD!" Giles exclaimed, wondering what his Slayer was up to.

tbc..

Chapter 11

 

    Well aware she was doing a Courtney Cox again but not much with the caring, Buffy braved being the subject of a whole lot of stare-age.  Because she was with him again and for some reason, that made it all ok.

Oo yeah, a little baby
She want more
More, more, more, more, more
Oo yeah, a little angel
She want more
More, more, more, more, more

    "OH MY GOD! Groupie much?" one of the teenage girls behind their table asked in a snotty tone watching the blatant flirting taking place.

 

    "Wha? Huh?" Xander babbled, his mouth agape. "He was looking at ME! What is Buffy doing?"

 

    "It would appear that er, she is dancing," Giles muttered, suddenly feeling very old.

 

    "Dancing with Billy Idol... Wow. That's pretty deep." Willow announced as the intro music for the next song came on.

********

    They circled each other on the stage, each moving in a instinctual rhythm of smooth movements; an orchestrated dance of raw, sexual innuendo. Their fights had given them this edge, this connection, and even with the sunglasses that Billy Idol continued to sport, everyone in the club could practically feel the heated looks that were exchanged. 

 

    Giles began to study the smooth, almost feral way Billy moved, and his sense of unease grew.

 

    Then Spike picked up the mike and with a patented Billy smirk, his voice slid out seductively as he and Buffy continued their own private dance.

Well rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love don’t rock easily it’s true

Well rock the cradle of love
I rocked the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love don’t rock easily it’s true
Well now

It burned like a ball of fire
When the rebel took a little child bride
To tease yeah so go easy yeah

Cause love cuts a million ways
Shakes the devil when he misbehaves
I ain’t nobody’s fool
Come on shake it up
Whatever I do

Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yes the cradle of love don’t rock easily it’s true
Sent from heaven above that’s right
To rob the cradle of love
Yes the pages of don’t talk decently it’s true

Yeah flesh for your romeo
Ah yeah baby
I hear you moan
It’s easy y’know how to please me yeah

 

    'God, how much more musical foreplay could one girl take?' Buffy thought with more than a small hint of frustration, her heart struggling to keep up with the flood of hormones that was unleashed in her body. The thinly veiled innuendo of her being jailbait was more provocative than anything, which should have been way icky, but wasn't. The fact they were on the stage again in front of everybody only added to Buffy's heightened sense of wickedness that she had recently found herself craving. Buffy had never felt so alive, so free. His voice had awakened her, and now she knew the words he sang were meant as promises of things to come. 

 

    And it made her burn.

 

    Suddenly desperate to see his eyes, Buffy closed the distance they had deliberately maintained between their bodies and in one quick stroke, tore the sunglasses that hid him from her searching eyes, basking in the raw, primal hunger she found waiting for her. 

   

    Feeling that burning need to be bad screaming to be released -consequences be damned- she gave him a sexy, seductive smile and slowly raised her arms above her head and allowed the music to fill her, guide her, as her entire body moved in a seductive sway in front of him.

 

    Spike watched her with a burning need, the memories of the first time he had laid eyes on her slamming into him. The way she had moved her body instinctively on the dance floor of this very club, she had been a tempting siren behind the guise of an innocent angel. He had sensed her need for release just by watching the way she moved. All those wankers watching her, thinking they really knew her. They would never even come close to tapping into what she really was.

 

    It had scared him, his instant understanding of her need, and there was not much that had scared him in the 100+ plus years he had been alive. Or dead, whichever way you wanted to look at it.

 

    So he did what any frightened animal does when faced with uncertainty, he reacted with violence; striking out brutally with the sole intent on wiping out the threat.

 

    But that just made it worse. Each altercation only cementing the knowledge that he knew with blinding certainty just what it was that this girl really needed.

 

    Him.

 

    And what scared him even more was he knew with just as much certainty that he needed her too.

   
    
    Now here she was, right where she belonged.

 

    With a determined growl, he hauled her against him, desperate to feel her skin against his again; her back now flush against his bare chest and this time there was no hesitation or need for playground mentality. Buffy was fluid against him, instinctively falling into his rhythm as he continued the musical serenade

 

    *****

 

    Watching the spectacle on the stage, Giles's alarm grew, tendrils of suspicion began curling their way through his system and taking root. What was he missing here?

 

    "Well. I guess the Buffster is going to his Oh Billy Butt Monkey," Xander complained with more bitterness than should have been present. A pained look crossed his face. "Ok, now that was just a disturbing visual."

 

    "Oh do shut up, Xander," Giles finally snapped, sick of listening to Xander's delusional ranting. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as he tried to work through this problem.

 

    "Giles, I have a wicked case of suspicious about this," Willow whispered to him, stunned by her friend's wanton behavior on the stage.

 

    "As do I," Giles admitted, catching sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. "If you'll excuse me," he said to Willow, getting up and heading in the direction of the front door.

 

    The pure, murderous rage on Angel's face had Giles hurrying his steps, not sure what type of a spectacle the vampire was truly capable of. He knew quite well Angel considered Buffy his property, and seeing her dancing in such a manner was surely to be quite a blow.

 

    As he drew close, Giles could see just how hard Angel was fighting with his demon; his fists were clenched tightly at his side and his eyes flickered from amber to brown and back again.

 

    What truly surprised Giles, however, was the seething anger that was directed his way.

 

    "How could you let her dance with him?" Angel growled in greeting.

 

    Slightly taken aback, Giles ripped his glasses off as he glared at the vampire in front of him. "I beg your pardon, I did not LET her do anything. I'm not her bloody father, you know. If she wants to prance around on stage with... whoever that is," Giles gestured wildly to the stage, "there is not a whole lot I can do, you berk."

 

    Angel tipped his head as he regarded Buffy Watcher. Surely he knew? "You do know that is Spike, don't you?"

 

    "Spike?" Giles echoed, the wide eyes and sputtering clueing Angel to the fact that Spike's identity had not been known, a fact that truly amazed Angel. 

 

    "Yes, SPIKE.  So yes, I think there IS a lot you can do," Angel bit out angrily. His eyes traveled to the stage, and his thirst for vengeance peaked when he witnessed the intimate way Spike held HIS girl, their bodies moving together with all the supernatural grace they both possessed.

 

    "Good lord, how could I have been so stupid," Giles muttered, staring at the stage. "He is rather convincing, I must admit."

 

    Angel threw him a black look. "You didn't actually think he was Billy Idol, did you?"

 

    "What? No, no. Of course not," Giles replied with little conviction. "Uh, Angel,... I'd prefer it if we handled this discreetly. Can I trust you to do so?"

 

    "What? You mean I can't go up on stage and stake the bastard?" Angel mocked sardonically.

 

    Giles threw him a dark look. Sighing heavily, Angel replied, "Yes, we can do it discreetly, ok? I just want to get Buffy away from him."

 

    "Quite right," Giles agreed, turning to head back to the table.

 

    As far as Xander was concerned, he was feeling a keen sense of satisfaction in seeing Giles leading Angel over to their table. "Hey Angel. Did you come to see Billy Idol?" he greeted casually. "And Buffy? They're doing quite the dirty dancing, aren't they?"

 

    "Xander!" Willow hissed, kicking him under the table.
 

    Angel lowered himself into the seat that Buffy had vacated. At Xander's words, he growled menacingly.

 

    "What?" Xander asked with false innocence, quite satisfied to see Buffy sticking it to the broody bloodsucker in such a public manner. Dead Boy was not his favorite person.

 

    "That's not Billy Idol," Angel announced darkly, his mighty brow furrowing over his eyes.

 

    "Yeah, that's what I've been trying to figure out," Willow replied, continuing to watch her friend. "But the looks, the voice? He's all about the credible, that's for sure. But doesn't Billy Idol have a tattoo on his arm?"

 

    "It appears that it is, er, Spike," Giles said with a weary sigh, feeling out of sorts that he had missed that identification.

 

    "SPIKE?" Xander yelped, his eyes also drawn to the stage once more. True, most of his dealings with Spike had been while the vampire had been in game face, but surely he SHOULD have known it was him, shouldn't he?

 

    "Are you sure? Because Spike? I just don't know. I just can't see him doing the whole stage thing and everything," Willow commented.

 

    The look Angel sent her had Willow looking away muttering, "Sheesh, I was just asking."

 

    ******

 

    Spike felt Angel before he saw him and his hold on Buffy tightened. "What?" she asked.

 

    "Your boyfriend is here."

  tbc

    "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.

 

chapter 17

    While Buffy didn't have many details of his time in Los Angeles away from her, somehow she had the gut feeling that being evil didn't top the charts of his nightly activities.  There seemed to be a calmer edge to him now; a sense of peace that certainly influenced his demeanor. This Spike was smoother around the edges and appeared to have a handle on that evil, impulsive aspect of his demon than the version that had slunk away from Sunnydale all those months ago.

 

    Buffy found herself comforted by this. 

 

    "So... Let me just get this straight. Instead of searching me out and throwing me over your shoulder to have your wicked way with- because hello- you're evil; you killed time by buying a club and becoming all Mr. Business guy? To what, make yourself respectable?"
 

    "Had to pass the time somehow," was his muffled reply and Buffy suddenly gasped, tensing ever so slightly before having to consciously will her body to relax. Spike's face was nuzzling its way deeper into her lap, and his nose had just found her crotch, brushing up against a suddenly sensitive portion of her anatomy that really hadn't had much attention before now.

   

    She missed the self-satisfied smile that curved over his generous lips at her body's response to him before he continued his explanation, "Wanted to give you some time to grow up, you know? But as soon as I saw you in my club, I knew I wasn't bloody waiting any longer."

 

    Buffy breath hitched in her throat as his words washed over her, confirming her initial suspicion of his noble sacrifice. He had wanted to wait until she was older. That alone boggled her mind and made her fall that much more.

 

    When his probing nose become more insistent, thinking suddenly became a problem.  

 

    "God, you smell like heaven," Spike murmured, carefully rolling to his stomach while he breathed in the succulent scent of her burgeoning arousal. Completely in tune with her body's response to his touch, he wanted to see her face, finding himself oddly unsure whether to take things any further. He hadn't been lying when he had informed her that his motives for bringing her to his suite hadn't been with sexual intent, but neither was he quite the noble type any longer. Gone was the bumbling Victorian gentleman he had once been; but a part of that poncey git still remained which left Spike, the not-quite-so evil hybrid in its wake.

 

    He noted with smug satisfaction that her head was tipped back to rest against the back of the couch, her eyes had fluttered shut, and her succulent lips were slightly parted... God, that mouth....

 

    Watching her reaction, he deliberately bumped her clit with his nose again, his cock jumping to life at the small gasp of pleasure she rewarded him with. Christ, she was so responsive...

 

    Suddenly unable to leave that mouth alone, he rose up on his forearms and captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her squeak of surprise. Spike thrust his tongue boldly into the sanctuary of her mouth, his lips slated against hers intently. He nipped and sucked at her bottom lip while coaxing a similar response from her. Her actions were timid at first but quickly grew more assured with each growl of pleasure she elicited from him. His hands skimmed the length of her torso to settle on her hips, and Spike quickly slipped her pliant body beneath his on the couch before settling himself intimately between her thighs. Her short skirt bunched up around her hips and Buffy failed to even notice. 

 

    At her enthusiastic response, Spike found himself desperate in his need to consume her, to ultimately possess her. At the same time came the knowledge that he would halt his ardent attention at a mere word from her. In a span of a short while, a torch had been lit and he now was at her complete mercy. She was his everything. 

 

     The intimacy they had shared on stage paled in comparison to what was raging between them now. Spike felt as if he had come home. After a hundred plus year, he had found his reason for existing. 

 

    Spike could taste the power that ran deep within her as her tongue shoved his own back and fought for dominance. That underlying signature that identified her as the One. A low growl rumbled unknowingly from his chest as his demon responded to the potent taste and to what exactly he had beneath him.

 

    The Slayer.

 

    With a groan, his hips arched forward, grinding his denim strained cock against her sweet mound, the succulent smell of her desire only fueling him on.

 

    One cool hand slipped under the flimsy tank, pushing up the silky wisp of a bra she wore and the ripened peach he found waiting for him fit his palm perfectly as he kneaded the pebbled tip lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

*****

    Buffy was in shock. A dazed, delicious shock.  She had no idea THIS could feel so good and found herself willing to totally put herself into Spike's very talented hands. One kiss and... wow. Without thought, she opened her legs up wider and encouraged him to make himself at home because whatever he was doing with pelvic grindage felt too good to put a stop to. 

 

    When she felt his hand close over her breast, she instinctively arched into his hand while his mouth continuing to devour hers. God, Spike could kiss, she thought dreamily.

 

    "Christ, you feel so good," Spike groaned, breaking free from her lips and pressing a moist trail to her jaw. His hand found its way to her other breast, moving aside the thin slip of lace that accounted for lingerie.

 

    "Can't wait to taste you," he murmured hungrily into her ear while he traced the outer shell with his talented tongue and sucked on the lobe, mindful of her multitudes of earrings. His breath against her sensitive skin created a new deluge of desire to pour through her and her head fell to the side at his gentle urgings, a throaty sigh passing over her lips.

 

   Her hands began their own exploration, diving under the soft cotton of his t-shirt to seek the taut muscles that lay beneath. The not-quite normal temperature of the flesh she was caressing refused to register but as his lips moved to her neck, she instinctively tensed. This vulnerable position she had voluntarily put herself in caused the first tendrils of alarm to be sounded and it was at that moment that Buffy realized EXACTLY what it was she was doing. 

 

    She was having a heavy duty make-out session with a vampire. An UNSAFE vampire. As in, Spike. Not Angel, who she had previously thought was her everything. This was Spike. Dangerous, sans soul Spike.

 

    And why was that getting her hot and not providing fodder for major freakage??  

 

     When his mouth left her neck unscathed and traveled south to suddenly latch around her newly bared cleavage, she decided fodder was overrated. Her body was pretty much virgin territory except to her own curious explorations, yet as Spike worshiped the peak of one very sensitive nipple with his talented tongue before moving to pay homage to its mate, Buffy realized with unrelenting certainty that the fact it was Spike that was giving her this sensually guided tour towards womanhood was all kinds of good. 

   

  It was pure instinct that had her lifting her hips to seek the friction of his protruding erection, the coarse denim chafing the tender skin of her inner thighs. Her hands roamed up and down his back, luxuriating in the feel of the hard flesh under her fingers. Spike fit her perfectly. In every way, she realized with blinding clarity. He was her equal. Buffy had a freaky feeling that more spell unlocking was taking place, but found she didn't even care. This was one revelation she would embrace with as much passion as he was creating within her.

 

    He was hers. 

 

    Spike growled low in his chest when he felt the searing heat of her quim undulating against his rock hard cock and he moved his hips to give them both the friction they craved. Lifting his head up from the succulent perfection of her breasts, he studied her face, awe coming to light when he took note of the wanton ecstasy on proud display.

 

    While his demon gloried at being the one to reduce the Slayer into a quivering mass of desire, the man within him wanted to immortalize this moment, to have it imprinted in his brain forever.

 

    Because she was perfection.

 

     Drawing his hand down the length of her body in a possessive sweep, Spike was rewarded by a throaty moan as his fingers danced along the gentle swell of her hips, urging the already indecent skirt to hike up further, revealing the satin wisp that barely did the job of covering her to his hungry eyes. With slow deliberateness, Spike slipped one finger under the flimsy material seeking the ambrosia he knew would be waiting, already practically drowning in her musky scent.

***

    Buffy knew Spike was watching her response but when his talented fingers made their way inside her thong, all sense of purposed embarrassment fled until there was only...him. And the way he made her feel. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her; each gentle probe, each stroke almost calculated to bring her to the edge of an almost absolute frenzy of pleasure.

 

    "Oh god...." Buffy breathed when his thumb found her clit, her hands suddenly gripping his shoulders as if in danger of falling. Pressure built up in the pit of Buffy's stomach and she instinctively began to move against him when he slipped one finger into her tight, wet channel. She could practically feel his intent stare pinned on her as her head thrashed from side to side, every fiber in her being clamoring for release.

 

    When Spike lowered his head to once again capture a rosy tip into his greedy mouth, suckling and teasing it with his tongue, Buffy's world suddenly dropped out.

 

     With a surprised scream, an intense burst of indescribable pleasure suddenly flooded and encompassed her entire body, wave after wave of shimmering ecstasy pummeling every fiber of her being. Under the assault of such foreign sensation, Buffy failed to feel the forehead ridges that suddenly emerged to rub against her tender skin nor the fangs that subsequently dropped into the meaty swell above the pebbled tip that Spike had been been giving worship to.

 

    As the last tremors of her earth-shattering orgasm jerked through her, Buffy's brain slowly regrouped and began to process information once more. A lazy languid feeling took root, but when her spider sense threatened to defeat the afterglow, Buffy opened her eyes.

 

    To find Spike's fangs embedded in her breast.

 

    And why did that not bother her as much as it should?

tbc..

Chapter 18

 

    Buffy studied the bowed head intently. "Spike, your fangs are in my boob." 

 

    If he heard her, there was no response and Buffy was suddenly very much aware of the sensations caused by the almost languid pull of her blood into his welcoming mouth.

 

    And god help her, it felt good.

 

    It was that shocking revelation alone that managed to register on her scale of freakage and the unhurried afterglow she had experienced in the wake of her first mind-numbing orgasm fled with a sudden hitch of breath and a subtle stiffening of every muscle her body possessed. 

 

    "Spike?" she whispered fearfully.

 

    Spike was in a state of perfect bliss; surrounded by the overwhelming perfume of the Slayer's release, the nirvana that ran through her veins was sliding effortlessly down his throat, and her warm body was pliant under his. This was a place he didn't ever want to leave.

 

    Until the scent of her fear broke through his self-absorbed paradise.

 

    That was when he realized her body was no longer pliant beneath his -and with a heavy sigh, he extracted his canines from her succulent flesh, catching the renegade drops of blood that followed their exit, his tongue swirling over the shallow marks he had made.

 

    With just as much consideration, he slid his hand from between her legs - barely managing to refrain from bringing his digits to his mouth to lick the juices he knew coated them.

 

    But what gave him pause was not knowing if her fear was in response to the man or the vampire, and not wanting to add further torment, he grabbed hold of his base instincts that wanted nothing more than to rip her panties off and fuck her into the couch. 

   

    Instead, he allowed his features to shift back to the face Spike knew the Slayer was familiar with. Once he had her attention, he captured her gaze and held it, his eyes probing intently.

 

    "Wasn't trying to hurt you," he told her softly, feeling slightly pained at her apparent lack of trust.  

 

    Buffy nodded nervously as she found herself unable to look away. She had caught the glimpse of hurt that flashed across his expressive face making for a world of conflict for Buffy.  

 

    Reaching up to gently cup her jaw, Spike gave her a tender smile before taking a deep, calming breath.

 

     "I'm a vampire, Buffy. You knew what I was when you came up here and let me touch you," he quietly reminded her, readjusting her clothing so everything was properly covered once more.

 

    "I know," Buffy bit out, not able to help the telltale blush from rising to her cheeks.

 

    "Then what?" Spike asked. When he saw the flood of color hit her cheeks, a slow, satisfied smirk graced his lips. "Ahh. I see. Liked it, did ya?"

 

    Buffy made a weak attempt to glare into his smirking face, yet not protesting when he rolled them over and tucked her against him, smoothing her skirt down.

 

    "You're a sensual creature, Slayer. I don't want you be embarrassed about anything we do, you got that?" He kept his eyes pinned on her until she nodded, then finally allowed himself to adjust the erection that was in no danger of going away any time soon.

 

    "You... would have stopped, right?" Buffy asked in a halting voice, hating how weak she sounded. Didn't matter if he stopped or not, she was still the Slayer.

 

    But it did matter.

 

    Spike's jaw clenched as the implications of her question struck home, and he had to work hard to temper his initial anger. After counting to ten, he felt it safe to respond. "Yes pet, I would have stopped. I just needed to taste you, is all."

 

    At the look of relief on Buffy's face, Spike was glad he had made the effort to calm himself before answering the unspoken question of 'would you have killed me?'

 

   Guiding her head to rest against his chest, Spike remarked, "I suppose this is where I'm supposed to apologize for letting things get too far out of hand? I did tell you I didn't bring you up here to have my wicked way with you and all."

 

    "Only if you mean it," Buffy replied, her voice back to normal as she continued to enjoy the feel of Spike's body pressed against her own.

 

    "Nope, not sorry at all, actually."  Spike's head jerked around to the entry way. "What in the bloody hell do you have in your purse? It's been growling ever since we got here."

 

    "What?" Spike's abrupt change of topic was disconcerting to say the least.

 

    "Something in your purse is making with the rumblies."

 

    Her pager. Great.

 

    Trying to extricate herself from his embrace, she threw him an exasperated look when his arms tightened their hold; effectively denying her passage

 

    "It's my pager, Spike, let me up."

 

    With an exaggerated sigh, Spike released her and watched as his golden girl padded across the room to where she had dropped her purse upon their initial entrance.  His body already missed the soft warmth she had provided, his hard-on in no danger of going away soon, yet he felt no overwhelming urge to seek his own release.

 

    He had almost blown it tonight by biting her and that was the only thing he regretted. Not the actual act of it, more that he had frightened her by doing so. But to seduce her into taking their relationship to a more physical level when he knew she wasn't ready for it...

 

    That was something he was not willing to risk, supposedly evil creature or not. That was something he could wait for.

 

    "Can I use your phone?"

 

    Piercing blue eyes were quickly pinned on her as he took note of the wrinkles that were now creasing her forehead. Buffy gulped loudly, unable to stop herself from visually eating up the major piece of eye candy that she had left on the couch.

 

    He looked so deliciously rumpled and sexy that Buffy was tempted to ignore her pager and throw herself back in his arms and further explore what being with a vampire meant. 

 

    But then her pager went off again.

 

    "Stupid thing," she grumbled, checking the number even though she was certain it was the same one that had been left about twenty times already with a very telling 911 after the number.

 

    "You need a phone?"

 

    Buffy's eyes were torn back to witness Spike swinging to his feet in one graceful motion before her gaze traveled down to check out the status of his crotch, mentally slapping herself at her newfound addiction of becoming a crotch watcher.

 

    By the obvious bulge still evident, Buffy realized with a flush of embarrassment that she was the only one who had gotten any release and mortification struck. Did guys really get that blue balls thing? Did vampires, for that matter? And he hadn't gotten off because she freaked over his sticking his fangs in her boob and....

 

    "You know, if you keep staring at it, it's never going to go away," Spike announced, highly amused. Her face had been an open book, and he couldn't help but tease her.

 

    When her face flushed again and she had trouble meeting his eyes-clearly mortified- Spike ate up the distance that separated them and wrapped her in his arms. "Told you not to be embarrassed about any of this, luv," he chided gently, tucking the top of her head under his chin. "Silly girl."

 

    "Sorry," she mumbled into his chest. "Just felt, uh... bad that I was the only one that..., you know..."

 

    "Had a mind-blowing orgasm?" he finished for her, feeling her answering nod. "S'ok. I'm a big boy."

 

    He was interrupted by her snicker and a smirk curved over his lips as he kissed the top of her head. "Ooh, my little kitten has her mind in the gutter, does she?" To emphasize his "point", Spike rubbed his big boy against her. "Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I can handle a little unresolved sexual tension. 'Sides, if it gets too bad, I'll just step into the loo and have a quick wank."

 

    Buffy took a step back and wrapped her arms around his neck, scowling. "Ok, that was so not a visual I needed."

 

    He found his smile was instinctively tender as he peered into her expressive face. Oh, he was going to enjoy introducing her to the more carnal side of her nature, that was a given. His head lowered to place a brief chaste to her lips that spoke volumes before drawing back.

 

    The infernal pager vibrated again. Cocking one eyebrow up, Spike regarded her with amusement. "Could have a bit of fun with that one, I'd wager."

 

    Her response was automatic. "Eww, Spike!" Before she could ask for a phone again, Spike had a cell phone dangling in front of her face.

 

    "Oh, thanks." Buffy took it and flipped it open, sneaking a quick peek at the vampire who held her. Impulsively, she reached around and pinched his butt before stepping out of his arms and flopping back to the couch, trying to remain nonchalant but Spike could hear her heart pounding away at a furious pace.

 

    He was affecting her but good, and that was nice to know.

 

tbc...
a/n-another unbeta'd chapter, so beware.

Chapter 19

     Buffy was openly checking him out and Spike couldn't help but leer as he hooked his thumbs through his front belt loops, causing Buffy to roll her eyes dramatically as she waited for the person she had called on the cell-phone to answer.

 

    They were back on comfortable and familiar footing, and Spike didn't even want to examine the relief he felt. His need for her had grown beyond the physical; she has swiftly invaded every fiber of his being and to be denied even a portion of that would be a torment unlike any he had ever experienced.

 

    Spike knew she was clueless regarding the power over him that she wielded and he was looking forward to enlightening her.

 

    It promised to be a very...satisfying experience.

 

    "Blair?" he heard Buffy say into the phone before quickly whipping it away from her ear. Even Spike had to cringe at the loud barrage of screaming that was being spewed over the line, his acute sense of hearing pained by the sheer volume.

 

    When there was a lull in the noise, Buffy apprehensively put the phone back to her ear. "Blair?..... BLAIR......BLAIR!!!!!!!!!" After a moment, Buffy was able to continue. "Ever hear of a thing called volume control? Because hello, shout much?.... Inside voice, Blair, INSIDE VOICE. I can't understand a word you're saying."

 

    Apparently Blair managed to switch to an indoor voice because Spike was able to see when Buffy's coloring suddenly paled and her wide, panicked eyes suddenly locked with his.

 

    "Are you sure?" Another pause. "Well this is all kinds of not good..... Ok, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner!....... I was busy!...What?......Uh, nothing.... Nothing as in, none of you business, ok?"

 

    Spike waited until she had hung up and sat there with a shell-shocked expression before he made his move. Closing the distance in two short steps, he scooped her up in his arms, and settled her non-protesting body in his lap.  "What happened?"

 

    "Buffy is in deep doo doo. Again."

 

    A quirk of his eyebrow asked the silent question and Buffy sighed, wondering why her life always had to be so confusing.

 

    "It's my mom," she finally said, suddenly feeling her tender years. Here she was wrapped in the yummy arms of a way old vampire and she was complaining about her mom. Teenager much? Shrugging it aside, she continued, "She doesn't know I'm the slayer, thinks I'm a troublemaker."

 

    "Like your dad did."

 

    It was a statement, not a question, but Buffy nodded anyway. "From what I could get out of Blair, it sounds like mom did recon in my room tonight and happened upon my slayer stash. Now she's totally convinced herself that I'm a Satan worshipper or something like that."

 

    Buffy didn't expect the loud burst of laughter from Spike, watching aghast as he laughed himself into tears. "Oh god," he muttered, swiping at the moisture that had cropped up during his mirth, "that's bloody hysterical."

 

    "Glad you think my life is so funny," Buffy remarked, her eyes narrowing at the continuing smirk he wore.

 

   Fingering the ends of her hair, Spike grinned wolfishly. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, pet. You see it from my side,--being evil and all-- and YOU, the Holy Mother Virgin soddin' Slayer, gettin' accused of Satanic worship is just downright...poetic."

 

    Allowing her ruffled feathers to be soothed, Buffy let him off the hook with an eye roll. "Alright fine, so maybe it IS a little ironic. Doesn't mean you have to laugh about it."  She threw him one last warning look as he pretended to zip his lips, then continued. 

   

    "So anyway, my dad is making with the Calvary and is driving up to help me face my mom and...oh GOD, I so don't want to go home." She dramatically buried her face into his hard chest, not able to help but breathe in his unique scent. Strange how she had come to associate his smell with comfort in such a short time. "Blair said my mom has been calling my dad every fifteen minutes with a new theory after pretty much tearing my room apart."

 

    "She's just worried about you, is all," Spike commented.

 

    Buffy lifted her head and looked at him suspiciously. "Since when did you become Mr. Insight Guy?"

 

    Spike snorted derisively. "Yeah right. That's me. It's just common sense. Your mum finds this stuff in your room. What...stakes? Crosses? Holy water?" When he received confirmation for each item, he continued, "What else then? You have a weapons stash somewhere?"

 

    Buffy cringed. "Yeah, swords, axes. This really cool scythe thingie that Giles gave me. Plus Blair said she found a bunch of Giles's boring demon books he made me take one time that I was supposed to study."

 

    Spike gestured with his hand. "See? Right there. If she was on snoop patrol, she was probably expecting the worst case scenario to be drugs or somethin' like that."

 

    Buffy pouted and crossed her arms against her chest. "Still. How does having demon books make me a Satan worshipper? I so don't get it."

 

    Spike set Buffy on her feet, ignoring the glare she sent his way. She was stalling and he knew the sooner he got her home, the better off she'd be. "Look, I know it and you know it, but to your mum? As you would say, it is wicked conspicuous." He mocked her valley girl accent which earned him an indignant glare.

 

    "I so don't sound like that."

 

    "Yeah you do." Spike walked around the suite collecting the room card and his car keys, shoving his wallet in his back pocket before grabbing his duster off the back of the chair  and slipping it on. "Come on, let's go. You need to get there before your dad does."

 

    Buffy followed him out, muttering about interfering evil-fluffed vampires which earned her a warning look.

 

    "Don't call me that," he told her.

 

    "Don't call you what?" Buffy brazened out, grabbing the hand that was extended her way as they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.

 

    "You know what."

 

    "Oh. You mean evil-fluffed?"

 

    "Yeah."

 

    Buffy bit back a giggle. "I don't know. I kind of like it. Kind of like the Staypuft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. Except, you know, more evil."  Her laughter couldn't withstand the heat of his withering glare and it escaped in a burst of giggles.

 

     Buffy suddenly found herself spun around and sandwiched between five foot ten inches of nostril-flaring vampire and the unrelenting wall next to the elevator, her wrists trapped in a vise-like grip above her head. She felt every inch of his solid body that was smashed against her.

 

    "Think I'm all fluffy now?" he murmured dangerously into her ear, deliberately grinding his pelvis against her in a slow erotic circle.

 

    "No!" Buffy squeaked, her hormones wrecking havoc on her self-control as she stared wide-eyed into the smoldering, dangerous blue of Spike's. Why he seemed so determined to teach her a lesson over calling him fluffed, Buffy hadn't a clue, figuring it had to be some dominating vampire thingy. Then came the illumination that there was a total lack of fear on her part and she smiled. Since he'd already fanged her boob and she'd lived to tell the tale, she decided to say to hell with restraint and give some of her own back.

 

     Wrenching her wrists out of his tight hold, she didn't pause before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him down to meet her lips in a searing kiss, tracing his fullness of his bottom lip with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth.

 

    She was rewarded with a hungry growl and her mouth was suddenly invaded as he tasted and explored the moist cavern, his arms banding around her to press her even closer, lifting her up so that his aching shaft was nestled between that sweet spot between her thighs as the pelvic grinding commenced with gusto.

 

    "Oh MY!"

 

    Spike lifted his head from the homage he was paying to Buffy's lips to see a well-dressed elderly couple staring aghast. His inner gentleman flared when he realized he was practically making love to Buffy right there by the elevator and he bowed his head apologetically, allowing the mortified Slayer to slide down his body.

 

    "Erm, sorry," he mumbled, finding himself unable to meet their accusing eyes as he took a step back from Buffy, allowing his hand to trail gently down her arm and she looked at him gratefully, her face flooded with color.

 

    Doing the dirty dancing in front of mucho people? No big.

 

    But getting busted by grandma?

 

    Totally mortifying.

 

    "Hmmpf!" Grandma gave the elevator down button a savage poke, and there was a mercifully short wait before the doors slid open and she stormed inside, her orthopedic shoes refusing to make much noise despite a considerable effort. Her husband shot Spike a quick apologetic look before hobbling in behind her.

 

    "Oh my GOD, that was SO embarrassing," Buffy breathed, smacking his chest when Spike merely smirked.

 

    "They can take the next one!" Spike heard announced in a disapproving, shrill voice from within the elevator's confines and something about the high and mighty tone managed to irk his inner gentleman. Buffy looked at him questioningly when she saw Spike take on his familiar cocky attitude, now knowing that was NOT the real Spike.

 

    "Come on, pet. They can't keep the doors open forever."

 

    Before Buffy could protest, Spike had grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the elevator, both noticing immediately that Grandma had been in the process of frantically attempting to push the 'door closed' button before they could step inside.

 

    Buffy missed the smirk Spike sent the lady.

 

    Even though it was already lit up, Spike made a production of pushing the button for the lobby several times in the most obnoxious manner possible before Buffy pulled him away from the control panel.

 

    "Knock it off! God! And I'M supposed to be the immature one?" Buffy hissed.

 

    He merely smiled infuriatingly at her, sinking his hands into the pockets of his duster and rocked his hips forward.

 

    That was when Buffy noticed something else.

 

    Spike was making NO effort to hide his continued erection. In fact, Buffy was convinced he was deliberately pulling the edges of his duster open where she could see it clearly outlined and straining against the tight denim. Mortified and aroused at the same time, Buffy looked quickly over her shoulder and noted with relief that Grandma and Grandpa seemed determined to ignore them, their eyes focused steadfastly on the doors in front of them.

 

    Buffy visibly started when Spike's voice rumbled through the small space.

 

     "So...pet," He made no effort to temper his volume, actually projecting louder than the small space necessitated.  "We got any new developments happening on today's Crotch Watch?"

   

    "WHAT?" Buffy hissed, her face burning both with the realization that he knew she was staring at his crotch and his loud announcement with the seniors to hear. "GOD! You are SO twisted!"

 

    Snickering, he drew her into his arms again. "Yeah, but you love it." Spike gave her a smoldering look, running the tip of his tongue along his front teeth, enjoying Buffy's mortification. He found the horrified gasp from behind them satisfying as well, now that killing wasn't a sport he typically indulged in.

 

    Spike tipped his head to the ceiling and noted the mirrors that reflected back at him. An evil smirk played on his lips. "Look pet. They've got mirrored ceilings."

 

    As expected, the seniors looked up. Then looked at Spike before looking toward the ceiling again, their mouths forming an "O" with shock and confusion.

 

    "What...."

 

    The doors finally slip open and Buffy dragged a smirking Spike out, ignoring the couple who remained frozen in the elevator. She pulled him through the lobby, wanting nothing more than to smack that smile off of him.

 

    Buffy waited until he had given the ticket to a different valet guy before shaking her head derisively at him.

 

    "What? That was fun."

 

    "What? You mean trying to give old people a heart attack? I'm surprised you didn't flash some fang at them."

 

    "Yeah, I should've. Would have been funny to see," Spike agreed easily.

 

    The Porsche came and this time Buffy knew better and allowed Spike to open her car door, even if she wasn't used to those type of manners. Before she slid in though, she reached up to whisper in his ear.

 

    "You are SO Evil-fluffed."

 

    This time Spike didn't bother denying it.

 

tbc.

a/n-Credit for crotch watching goes to AmyB and Tam, thanks girls! And thank you to copy,Q, amy and always who settled my comma question! 

a/n-this chapter just wrote itself like this, and I honestly have NO idea if it works or not. But... here it is.

Chapter 20


    Buffy could feel her stomach churning and tightening into knots the closer they got to her house, anxiety causing her pulse to race and she wanted nothing more than to beg Spike to just take her away. Anywhere but having to face the wrath of mom. Even the knowledge that she wasn’t the troublemaker she was alleged to be doing little to calm the nausea that threatened to spew.
 
    When Spike pulled the powerful black car up to the curb outside her house, Buffy threw him a suspicious look.
 
    "And you knew where I lived because....?"
 
    If she expected an answer, she didn't get one as Spike merely sent her a sexy wink and hopped out of the car.
 
    This time Buffy stayed put and waited for him to open her door, now knowing that somewhere deeply ingrained in his mutated makeup, gentlemanly manners such as door-opening were of the important.
 
    Plus it made her feel all girly and that was something she didn’t get to feel everyday.
 
    Spike took her hand and began leading her up to the door, her feet growing heavier and heavier the closer they got.

"Don't make me go in there!" she begged, snatching her hand away and leaping off the walkway to take cover in the shadowed part of the yard.
 
    With a snarl, Spike followed and grabbed her, his fingers digging into her shoulders. His intense eyes bored into hers. "Your mum is in there worried about you, luv. Wondering where SHE went wrong, what SHE did to make you do the things she thinks you did. She doesn't deserve that, and YOU don't deserve that either."
 
    Buffy bit her lip and tried to look away, but Spike caught her chin with his hand. "Come on, pet. No acting like a scared little girl. Go face your mom like the slayer you are. You've got nothing to bloody well be ashamed of."
 
    At her arched eyebrow and pointed look, Spike grinned. 'Wot? You mean me?"
 
    The front door to the Summers house flew open and Buffy’s mom was suddenly framed in the entryway, flipping on the outdoor lights that didn't do much to chase away the lingering shadows.
 
    "Buffy?"  There was a frantic tone that wasn't usually present in her mom's voice.
 
    With a sigh, Buffy turned to face her mom. "Yeah, it's me."
 
    Seeing her daughter’s silhouette, Joyce’s face suddenly closed off and she pointed sternly into the house. "You get yourself in here right now, young lady!"
 
    With a resigned sigh, Buffy looked at Spike. "Are you... uh...coming?"
 
    He snorted impatiently. "Bloody right I'm coming in. Not letting you go through this by yourself."
 
    Her relieved smile warmed him.
 
    "If you have someone with you, I think you need to tell them to go home," Joyce announced frostily, seeing Buffy emerge from the shadowed part of the yard, but not alone. "We have something to...Oh!" Recognition lit up her face. "William?"
 
    Spike smiled easily in response, shoving his hands in his duster pockets and ducking his head in a beguiling manner. "Hello Joyce."
 
    Buffy turned to regard him curiously. "William?" she mouthed, then rolled her eyes. Somehow this did NOT surprise her in the least.
 
    What DID surprise her was watching her mom‘s flustered demeanor; her hands traveling to her waist to smooth down the non-existant wrinkles of her blouse before making their way to allow the same treatment to her hair. Her mom was acting NERVOUS, for crying out loud and Buffy threw an exasperated look at Spike's deceptively innocent manner.
 
    Shaking her head in disgust, Buffy stomped up the steps to the porch, inwardly cringing when she saw the bloodshot eyes her mom sported. Obviously her newfound status as a satan worshipper had been celebrated with whatever was in the liquor cabinet. Great.
 
    Joyce gave a nervous laugh as she watched William trail behind her daughter. "I had no idea you even knew where I lived," she commented inanely.
 
    Buffy gave a rude snort. "You know, that's exactly what I said."
 
    Blazing eyes were pinned in her direction and Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen her mom look so...furious. "Buffy Anne Summers! You, young lady, are in a heap of trouble, so I suggest you just keep your mouth shut."
 
    "Mom, I-"
 
    "Not a word," Joyce warned and turned to Spike, giving a small self conscious laugh. "William, I apologize. I've been having some problems with my daughter; I am beyond mortified that you have to be here to see this."
 
    Buffy's mouth gaped open as she gazed at the woman who had surely just lost her mind. "Mom, I think-"
 
    Her mom rounded on her, face set with fury. "Buffy, you WILL be quiet."
 
    Buffy looked helplessly at Spike and her temper flared at his grin. The bastard thought this was funny! Her hands fisted tightly at her side and she glared at Spike who dared to wink at her.
 
    "William, this is my daughter, Buffy." Joyce's voice dripped with insincerity.  "Buffy, this is William, a valued customer from the gallery."  The look on her mom's face clearly read 'you do anything rude and I will kill you.'
 
    And she had thought being busted by Grandma at the hotel had been horrifying.
 
    After receiving another infuriating wink from Spike, Buffy was forced to bear witness as he became all Mr. Charming Guy, a disgusting schmooze-fest taking place that kept Buffy's frozen with incredulity,. Yet another reminder that Spike in Code Evil status was the most dangerous of all predators, and there was no doubt that this recent change of emotions was truly for the good.
 
    But…Buffy had to hand it to him. He was damn good, even though she had to work hard to tamp down the flare of jealousy at her mom's weak attempts to return the subtle flirtation, cringing with all the embarrassment of her teenage years.  An invite into the Summers inner sanctum had been smoothly obtained and Spike had efficiently herded them inside, her mom never realizing that Spike had never acknowledged the introduction to the troublesome daughter. 
 

   Buffy felt the urge to smack her mom’s cluelessness, but had to give Spike credit where it was due. He had prevented a scene of mass proportion from taking place, knowing full well that whatever was said would pass from their porch to the neighbors’ loose lips in seconds flat, an entire network of revolving door gossips that sometimes acted like their neighbors living in the houses surrounding them. 
 
    And that was something her mother WOULD totally blame her for, her fault or not.
 
    But, it didn't mean that Buffy was forgiving him either, especially after seeing how much he was enjoying himself, the cool amusement flickering in the depths of his expressive eyes. It wasn't like he had to ENJOY her mother's ill-concealed interest because that was just... wrong, Buffy decided with a pout. And icky, she added, crossing her arms defensively against her chest.
 
    Stupid schmoozing vampire.
   
    And god, her mom? Buffy watched as she fluttered over to the liquor cabinet to refill her drink and pour one for Spike, then had to stomach the coy look when she handed said beverage over, insisting that he have a seat, leaving Buffy standing in the entryway, all but ignored.
 
    Through narrowed eyes, Buffy witnessed Spike's casual sprawl into the indicated chair, the leisurely sip of his newly acquired scotch and soda. Oh god, the nausea was building.
 
    What popped the cork for the incredulous was when her mom turned to her, making sure to keep her back to her "guest" and allowed her very stern mom face surface. "Upstairs now," Joyce whispered harshly, pain and disillusionment clearly shadowed in those bloodshot eyes. "I'll deal with you later."
 
    Buffy's mouth dropped. Again. Her eyes flew over her mom's shoulders to catch the no longer amused expression on Spike's face, not wanting to admit that her mom's tone had managed to cut her down.
 
    "Joyce."
 
    Buffy knew Spike well enough to hear the dangerous taint of anger in his voice that was revealed with that one spoken word.
 
    Joyce whipped her head around in confusion to stare at this version of William, who no longer resembled the charming Englishman she'd had the pleasure of selling many pieces to for his club in Los Angeles. But she now noticed the intensity of his gaze was pinned on her daughter and her head shot back around, her eyes widening with un-spoken question when she saw that Buffy returned William’s scrutiny.
 
 
    Suddenly feeling very stupid, Joyce clutched her fists tightly and her mouth tightened in a grim line. "You already know Buffy."  
 
 
      
 Tbc…
 

chapter 21

     Suddenly feeling very stupid, Joyce clutched her fists tightly and her mouth tightened in a grim line. "You already know Buffy."  
 

Buffy was relieved when Spike fielded the question, getting to his feet and crossing the room to stand next to her in a show of solidarity.

Joyce shook her head as random thoughts and disturbing scenarios flitted through her mind. Oh sure she’d always been flattered by the attention that William had paid her; his suave manners coupled with his bad boy looks had made him the talk of the gallery and every female employee secretly coveting a visual taste of him on the few occasions he had stepped foot into the gallery. She hadn’t even given thought to why William had chosen HER gallery to use for his club when LA bred art galleries faster than germs could breed but now she was beginning to get a disturbed idea.


There was an easy familiarity between her daughter and this man that Joyce was wondering how it had been missed when they had first show up together, but blamed it on the shock of seeing William in such an unfamiliar setting. True, he had never flirted with her openly, and tonight had been no different. William had the reputation for knowing exactly what he wanted, uncaring of how much it cost to get it, making him a very valued customer. It had been more her own lonely urgings that had prompted her own actions this evening.

In her defense, why should she think that William knew her daughter? It was something that had been beyond ridiculous to even consider. Buffy was sixteen years old and while she didn’t know how old William was; by appearance alone, she suspected he was at least twice Buffy’s age.

And that is where Joyce realized how naive she had been.

Anger and a thin tendril of fear began working its way through her, as implications of what she had learned about her daughter this evening began shedding light on this possible relationship.

“You bastard,” Joyce ground out, her entire body rigid with rage.

Buffy and Spike exchanged looks, not quite sure how to approach this.

“You came to the gallery so you could recruit my daughter, didn’t you? You sick, sick man,” Joyce accused.

“What?” Buffy exclaimed. “No mom, it’s totally not like that. When he came to your gallery, I didn‘t even KNOW he was here.”

“Buffy, do you really think I am inclined to believe ANYTHING you have to say?”

Tears sprung unbidden to pool in Buffy’s eyes as that helpless feeling overwhelmed her again. Beside her, she could feel Spike tense, his body practically vibrating with anger.

“Joyce. You have no idea what you are saying here. I suggest that before you say anything you REALLY regret, you sit down and let Buffy say her piece,” Spike suggested, his tone deceptively mild.

“You’re her Judas Priest, aren’t you?” Joyce accused.

“I’m her bloody WHAT?” Spike laughed outright.

“The one who guides her through demon worshipping. Her mentor, guide, whatever.”

Spike looked thoughtful. “Well, you’re not far off….”

“Spike!” Buffy hissed. “So not the time for the cryptic demon humor.”

Spike shot her a smirk before turning his attention back to the elder Summers.

“So your name isn’t even William, is it?” Joyce asked, her lingering mortification at her flirting making the words that much harsher.

“William is my name. Spike is more of an… acquired nickname.” He turned to Buffy. “When is your dad getting here? Do you want to wait for him?”

Buffy looked thoughtful. For support? Oh she was all for the waiting. But she also knew her mom didn’t deserve this mental torment of thinking her daughter was this bad, evil thing, completely ignoring the thought of the other bad, evil thing at her side.

Heaving a pained sigh, Buffy shook her head and gave her mom a pleading look. “Can we uh, maybe sit down and do the talking thing?”

With a steely look at Spike, Joyce nodded her head and managed to rein in her turbulent emotions to settle herself down to have a civilized conversation with her daughter, taking a quick detour to the liquor cabinet first.

Spike was not offered a refill.

A sick feeling began churning in Joyce’s gut when she witnessed the close proximity of this familiar stranger to her daughter on the couch, barely registering Buffy’s subtle attempts to put some distance between them for propriety’s sake before Buffy finally succumbed to the comfort that Spike’s presence at her side gave her.

“What did you do to my little girl?” Joyce opened with, her tone still hostile and suspicious.

Buffy tensed, almost dreading Spike’s response to that rudely posed question.

Spike’s lips worked into a slight frown before allowing a heavy sigh to be expelled. “Joyce, before we go into how I know your daughter, something else needs to be cleared up before hand.”

Buffy watched as her mom actually snorted and jumped to her feet, stomping across the room to grab a few items off the side table. She held them up for inspection, gesturing wildly.

“You mean something that has to do with these?” She read the title of one of the books she held in her hands. ‘Recognizing and Correctly Identifying Your Most Common Demons in Five Easy Steps’

At the incredulous look Spike gave her, Buffy shrugged defiantly. “What? I told you they were courtesy of Giles. Think he’d actually give me something interesting to read?”

“Mr. Giles?” The eagle ears of her mom had not missed the reference. “Is he involved in this… cult also?” Joyce demanded.

“Mom! There is no cult!”

Joyce threw the book down to the ground where it bounced and landed with a resounding thud. She grabbed a stake to take its place, not seeing Spike‘s flinch. “Don’t play me as stupid, Buffy. How else can you explain this?” She tossed the stake aside to palm a small sword, her wobbly air slashes giving Buffy cause for alarm.

“And this? I may just work in an art gallery, but even I know that this is dried blood caked on here.” Her eyes teared up as they shot accusations in Buffy‘s direction. “Buffy, how COULD you? Live sacrifices?”

“You don’t clean your weapons, pet?” Spike questioned, his eyes taking on the gleam of the slightly amused.

Buffy shot him a warning look before lumbering to her feet to join her mother across the room, ignoring the flash of hurt when her mom took a step back from her. “You didn’t find my diary, did you?” she asked softly


The blank look on her mom’s face gave her the answer she already possessed and Spike saw her draw herself up, his beautiful Slayer.

“Because if you did and you had sank low enough to read it as you obviously were to search my room, you wouldn’t be standing here scared of me, thinking I am all with the worshipping of satan and killing of live animals.”

“Then please Buffy. Explain it to me.” Buffy didn’t miss the desperate pleading in her mom’s voice, the hopeful beseeching that Buffy would have an explanation that would make all this pain and hurt go away. That she really hadn’t been a bad parent, allowing her daughter to be led astray right under her nose.

Buffy opened her mouth to finally admit to her Chosen status only to find that her voice had spontaneously decided to cease working.

Helplessly, she cast a pleading glance at Spike, watching with relief as he came to stand next to her.

“Your daughter is a bloody miracle, Joyce,” Spike finally said, pressing his hand into the small of Buffy’s back.

Instead of relief, her mom only looked angrier. “So this is some sort of religious cult, is it? Not satanic at all? Don’t tell me,” she added scornfully, “you were chosen by God to lead her on the path of righteousness.”

Spike couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. “You have no idea how far from the truth you are with that one, Joyce.”


Even Buffy had to see the humor in that misguided accusation. But seeing her mom’s mental agony wasn’t funny anymore, if it ever had been.

Finally finding her voice, Buffy announced, “Mom, I am not into satanic worship or and I’m not into any creepy cult. I kill vampires,” she gestured to the weapons on the table behind her, “and I guess you could say those are sort of tools of the trade.”



*****

Xander had finally convinced Angel that it would be in Buffy’s best interest to make sure she was all right, no matter what the brooding dead guy kept trying to tell him.

Of course it had taken a precious forty-five minutes to convince him of the fact, during which time Xander and Willow had been forced to bear witness to Angel and Giles taking advantage of the two for one drink special that continued throughout the evening at the bar.

It had been a harsh and brutal three quarters of an hour for both teens, neither having faced a truly inebriated Giles before. Adding the morose moans and self-recriminations in, and it was more than either of them could stomach.

“How could I have been so blind?” Giles kept muttering over and over, his imported beer replaced with scotch.

“I should have known,” Angel kept arguing, keeping up with Giles and the scotch drinking.

“Fine, both of you should have known. Doesn’t help the fact that Buffy is now out there with a vampire whose unlife mission has been to pretty much want her dead,” Xander complained, finally fed up. “And I cannot BELIEVE that you two are just sitting here getting sauced when Buffy could be in danger. Furthermore, I REALLY can‘t believe you are just taking Angel‘s word for this, Giles, that Spike is not a danger to Buffy. Like to hear you explain THAT one to the council when Buffy winds up dead.”



That had finally penetrated the self-pity cocktail hour, and they had regrouped, Willow babysitting Giles while Xander went with Angel.

They had just turned on Revello Drive, a continuous mutual stretch of silence extending between them when suddenly Xander broke the quiet with an almost pained moan.

“Oh god.”

Angel’s head quickly whipped around for any hint of danger to find nothing registering. He could, however, pick up the scent of Spike and Buffy.

“What?” he asked exasperated.

Xander didn’t answer, merely pointed and again, Angel’s sharpened eyesight scanned for what it was that the irritating boy was talking about.

“I don’t see anything?”

“You don’t…” Xander echoed. He pointed again. “That. That wet dream called a car.”

“You mean the Porsche?”

“Yes I mean the Porsche! Do you see any other wet dreams around?” Xander exclaimed, drawing close to the object of his desire. “Oh baby, one day you will be mine, oh yes,” he murmured gently to it as he leaned to stare into the passenger window.

When Angel began growling softly, Xander jerked back. “What? I was just looking!”

“That’s Spike’s car. His scent is all over it,” Angel ground out. “And so is Buffy’s.”

Xander looked like he wanted to cry. “That is so unfair. I don’t think I like this new version of Spike. What happened to his old piece of crap car? It so fit him! All with the slogan of ‘Spike is Crap.’ What is WRONG with him? The old Spike, hey we could always count on the fact that his one goal in life was to kill Buffy.” Xander gestured widely. “But this new version of Spike? Now he’s all with the sexy Billy Idol stage thing, and he freakin’ owns the Bronze, and he gets the girl and…drives my dream car and… is it just me, or is all of this just WRONG?”

Fury was pounding through Angel as each one of Xander’s announcements hit home, the old internal battle of Angel vs. Angelus taking place.

They were interrupted by a new car pulling up to the curb behind them and shutting off the head lights.

22

 Her mom just stared at her blankly, her eyes blinking rapidly as she regarded her daughter with disappointment and sorrow.

“Buffy, I don’t need you to lie to me,” Joyce said quietly, as she stared at this complete stranger before her who she had given birth to.

“I’m not lying!” Buffy exclaimed beyond frustrated. “I mean, come on mom! Wake up and smell the reality! What do crosses and holy water have to do with satanic cults? Huh? Tell me? And stakes? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything weird about this town.”

Denial reared up and tried to shield Joyce from acknowledging the truth. “Every town has their share of bad elements, Buffy. Sunnydale is no different.”

Spike‘s snort broke through the thick tension that was building between the two Summers women. “Joyce, you remember Buffy’s little school function one night few months back?” His head tipped to the side as he regarded Buffy’s mom intently. “I believe it was chalked up to an ‘alleged gang on PCP’ breaking in and messing up your daughter’s pretty little doilies? I even believe there were a few fatalities?”

Denied memories squeezed through and the actual events of that evening played in Joyce’s mind and she nodded warily, watching as Spike reached over to the weapon strewn table and palmed an ax. Her breath hitched slightly when she witnessed his hands running up and down the smooth wooden handle.

“Don’t supposed you remember hitting anyone over the head with one of these babies that night, do you?” Spike asked suddenly, watching her reaction.

Joyce’s eyes widened with delayed recognition. “But… that wasn’t you,” she insisted. “That man had some hideous facial deformity. I think he was like that poor boy in that movie ‘Mask‘ with Cher.” .

Spike kept his eyes locked on Buffy’s mother, finding himself not wanting to scare her but not wanting her to hurt his girl anymore.

He shrugged and remarked sarcastically. “Right. A whole gang of deformed people on PCP. Guess they have something to be pissed about and all. Makes right sense, it does.”


Buffy snorted and reached out to touch her mom’s arm. “Mom, ok, here’s the entire sitch.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Vampires are real and I’m a Vampire Slayer.” At her look on her mom’s face, Buffy rushed to add, “I know it is all kinds of weird, but come on! Look at the facts! I‘m totally telling the truth!”

But her mom refused to believe; Buffy could see it in her eyes, that deep rooted denial. “Buffy, no. I’m sorry. I just can’t accept that.”

Buffy threw up her hands in frustration. “What? You’d rather believe I sacrifice live chickens or something?”

“No, what I WANT is the truth.”

“That IS the truth.”

“I’d like to hear more about this poor man with the obvious facial deformity,” Spike injected, his growing amusement with the whole scenario clearly evident.

Buffy gritted her teeth and sent him an annoyed look. “Sorry Spike, no mocking the afflicted in this house.”

Seeing what a toll this was taking on Buffy‘s emotional well-being, Spike decided it was time to put it to rest, once and for all.

“Bloody hell, Slayer! Just let me show your mum and we can get past this repetitive accusation and denial portion of the evening. Your mum doesn’t want to believe it, but she doesn’t want to believe you’ve been a naughty girl either. Let’s give the poor woman some peace of mind, eh? Got better things to do.”

Buffy knew exactly what those ’better things’ were, but had to agree with Spike. This had gotten old the second they walked through the door. She faced her mom again and tried for a responsible tone since it was obvious somebody had to be the grown up in this conversation and her mother was NOT fit for the role.

“Mom, we’re going to show you something, but I don’t want you to freak, ok?”

“Oh Buffy…” Her mom‘s voice trailed off as she shook her head disappointedly. But at Buffy’s bleak look, Joyce motioned for her to continue.

Buffy shot a nervous look at Spike, who nodded his support. Wringing her hands in front of her nervously, Buffy announced in a quick rush, “Spikeisavampire.”

Her mom shook her head to clear the cobwebs that had obviously garbled the words that she had heard, because there was NO way her daughter had said what she had actually thought she did. “Come again?”

Spike pushed himself away from the table he’d been leaning against. “We’re going to need the facial deformity, I’m afraid.” he told Buffy with mock severity, handing the ax over. “Ok, you’re pretending you are your mum.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re the big bad vampire.”

A brilliant smile answered her. “Well, yeah. That’s the reason for this little tableau, innit?”

“Buffy, what is this…”

Buffy shot her mom a glare. “Mom, not another word. You are obviously the seeing is believing type of person, so remember Back to School night?” At her mom’s nod, Buffy continued, “Well, this is what REALLY happened so watch and believe.”

Joyce nodded mutely at the commanding tone in Buffy’s voice.

“Bossy chit, your daughter.”

“Shut up Spike, and get in position.”

Spike grinned at her bossiness and did as commanded, memories of that night flashing easily through his head where he almost had the death of his third slayer under his belt.

He realized suddenly that he actually owed Joyce a debt of gratitude for nailing him with said ax.

“So anyway, remember when you hit deformed guy with an ax? Well, in actuality, deformed guy was just about to kill me.” Buffy explained, pointing at Spike who had his back to her.

Buffy raised the ax and mimed smashing him on the head with the ax as she said “get the hell away from my daughter.”

Spike fell to the ground theatrically and snarled. Buffy sighed in exasperation. “Spike, this would be a lot more convincing if you actually WERE deformed guy.”

“Oh right.” With a sharp grinding of facial bones, the facial deformity in question slid into place, distorting the upper half of his face.

When he saw the look of absolute terror on Joyce’s face, he quickly shifted back. “Don‘t think that was the best of ideas, pet. Your mum is scared out of her gourd, can hear her heart zipping away from here.”

When Buffy turned to look at her mom and saw fear reflected back, Buffy threw up her arms in aggravation “God, what is it going to take?”

She watched as her mom shakily walked over to the couch and sat down, not allowing herself eye contact with either Spike or Buffy as she downed the rest of her drink.

Finally anger burned its way through Buffy, she’d had enough. Spike could practically see it clawing to get out, her eyes becoming sharp glittering emeralds of rage as she indulged in a staring contest with her mom.

Except her mom refused to meet her eye, instead staring at a random spot on the floor.

When terse minutes of silence passed, Buffy finally stomped over to plant herself in front of her mom, her tightly fisted hands on her hips in righteous tribute.

“Your time for self pity is over, mom, so get over yourself. You demanded the truth, you got the truth. So it wasn’t what you were expecting, I get that. But you know what? My life hasn’t exactly turned out the way I was expecting either. I didn’t ASK for this. I was chosen, told I had a duty to do and I had NO CHOICE.”

“How long?” Her mom’s voice was quiet and withdrawn.

“Almost two years now, since I turned 15. So big troublemaker? Not so much.”

“Are you…evil?”

Buffy’s mouth dropped at that question. Spike stepped in to field that question, his amusement over the question evident. “Your daughter is about as far from evil as you can get. She is the white light, the shining glory, the persona of all things good…”

“And you?” Joyce interrupted Spike’s glowing monologue to regard this man she had tried to flirt with that evening. No, vampire. He was a vampire.

Buffy sighed. “We’ll talk about Spike later, ok? Just trust me for now. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”

When the front door opened, three sets of eyes whipped around. Buffy breathed in a sigh of relief when she saw her dad framed in the door. Her dad was here. This was of the good. Tears pricked her eyes and she exchanged a small smile with Spike.

But then Angel and Xander showed up behind him and her gut clenched.

tbc..

In three strides Buffy was at the door greeting her dad warmly before turning the interlopers, blocking the entrance into her house

“No way,” she warned in a firm tone, mentally gearing up for more dramatic woes. “You don’t get passage. Out.”

“Buffy, just listen…” Xander said not one to ever listen to anything.

“No Xander, YOU listen for once. Look, I just came out of the slaying closet and let’s just say it wasn’t voluntarily. My mom is all aboard the freak train and I really don’t need you here right now. “Buffy’s words were harsh but her eyes were pleading with him to understand.

“Yeah and I’m sure having Spike here is just so very helpful,” Xander commented snidely.

 

“Buffy, we need to-” Angel began, his face a mask of pained forbearance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming scent of Spike and passion that Buffy was completely drenched in.

 

“What part of ‘out’ did you not understand? I am so not doing this with you.” Buffy pulled out her resolve face, and pointed at the door. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

 

“Buffy,” Angel tried again, at war with what he knew to be true and what his demon wanted to unleash, leaving him feeling extremely volatile.

 

“Angel, don’t MAKE me throw you out. For a night that started out pretty damn good, this had spiraled into some major suckage, so honestly? I am so not in the mood. OUT.”

 

With a pained sigh, Angel turned and walked out the door, easily passing over the threshold that had so welcomingly allowed him passage in the recent past. Now he was the interloper, thrown to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.

 

And yet Spike remained inside, leaving Angel battling with his rage and his desire to tear the younger vampire apart. Yet there was that lingering guilt over the memories that had been aroused earlier by Spike’s musical tribute.

Sometimes he just really hated his soul.

“Well, that’s a whole lotta thanks we get,” Xander complained, throwing himself down petulantly on the top step of the porch. He turned around to look at Angel. “What are you doing?”

Angel sent the boy an exasperated look before pressing his ear back to the wooden barrier that had been thrown up by the girl he had thought was his. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m eavesdropping.”

Xander scoffed. “And this surprises me not at all. Once you‘re an Evil Dead Guy, always an Evil Dead Guy, just as I‘ve been saying all along.”

There was a moment of silence.

“So Evil Dead Guy… are they saying anything good?”

***

Inside the living room, the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees; the frosty atmosphere making Buffy seriously wish she had told her mom when her dad found out.

 

Because this? This was major nightmare-worthy, forget becoming vamped; that paled in comparison.

Joyce had conflicting emotions at seeing her ex-husband again; the only thing they had in common anymore was their mutual concern for Buffy‘s well-being. When she had first discovered those things in Buffy’s room, her first instinct had been to call him and get him to Sunnydale for support; the heavy burden of single parenthood more than weighing heavily.

 

But now? Seeing the warm greeting her daughter had given her father, Joyce had a sinking suspicion that her ex-husband was not going to be the emotional crutch she needed right now.

 

As Hank and Buffy had entered the living room, Joyce’s brain was frantically trying to work up a way to share this newest… thing in the clearest way possible.

But then when Hank paused and did a double-take at Spike’s presence, a bad feeling began working its way through her gut.

 

“Spike?” Hank asked, his brows pinching together as he stared at the vampire sans the Billy Idol tribute. “What are you doing in Sunnydale?”

 

“Hank,” Spike nodded his head in way of greeting, an easy smile on his face. “Have a new business venture up this way.”

 

“Good, good. You’ll have to tell me about it later,” Hank replied warmly, finding himself not in the least disturbed to find Spike with his daughter. If anything, it just made things easier knowing how his ex-wife could be.

 

“You know this…person, Hank?” Joyce accused, her eyes wide with disbelief.

 

Hank’s eyes met her daughter’s guiltily, traveling to briefly touch upon Spike before making their way with resignation to face his potential execution.

 

“Um… I met Spike in LA. He owns a night club down there. Does a pretty mean Billy Idol impersonation,” Hank commented weakly, never one to lie well. “You should see it.”

 

“I know about his club,” Joyce replied frostily. “But…” Her voice trailed off as she became at a loss on how to continue. How do you explain that your daughter is…whatever she is?

 

When the strained silence threatened to get ugly, Buffy finally took the bull by the horns and broke the silence.

 

“Dad already knows,” she announced quietly.

 

The maelstrom of emotions on Joyce’s face was clear to see and she gave full rein to it. Disbelief, hurt, anger and the lingering paranoia of why SHE had been kept in the dark while HANK, the absent parent, knew about her daughter’s professed obsession clearly etched on her face.

 

Her empty glass was in danger of shattering with the death grip Joyce had on it as she rose shakily to her feet. “You knew,” she accused. “You knew and didn’t see fit to tell me? That our daughter thinks she’s some sort of slaughterer?”

Buffy cringed. “Slayer, mom, SLAYER.”

 

Her mom rounded on her. “Oh and there is a difference?”

 

“Yes there is a difference!”

 

“I’d like to hear what it is then,” Joyce announced belligerently, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Well, for one thing a slaughterer just goes and kills things,” Buffy began.

“And that differs from what your hobby is because…?”

 

Buffy’s mouth dropped. “HOBBY? You think this is a hobby to me?”

 

“What am I supposed to think, Buffy? You keep secrets from me, you sneak around. You associate with things that shouldn’t exist, I mean, honestly? What should I think?” There was a slight hysterical edge creeping into Joyce’s voice as she tried to stare down her daughter and assert some parental control while knowing in the back of her mind that she was behaving in the most irrational manner possible.

 

Buffy opened her mouth to answer, the feeling of being misunderstood once again smashing through her with all the subtlety of a freight train; only to find her throat choked with tears, her vision blurred by the buildup of tears that wanted to be shed. She threw a helpless look to Spike who had already sensed her rising anguish and brought her into the comfortable circle of his embrace as she tried to stem the flow before it began.

 

“Buffy get away from him,” Joyce said quietly, her earlier suspicions about their relationship now grounded.

 

“Joyce.” It was just one word, a name, but the impact it had was great.

 

“Hank, he’s a vampire. Did you know THAT?” Even as the words left Joyce’s mouth, she realized how trite they sounded. “Our daughter aligns herself with evil, Hank. How is that supposed to make me feel?”

 

Hank and Spike shared a quick look that spoke volumes. “Joyce, you didn’t hear a bloody word I said, did you?” Spike asked trying to keep a hold of his temper.

 

Buffy’s dad could almost feel Buffy’s pain, his own regret over his own callous treatment over her supposed ’troublemaker’ status striking deep. In a deceptively mild tone, Hank announced, “Our daughter is a god damn miracle, Joyce, and you better come to that same realization pretty darn quick.”

 

Buffy lifted her head from the safety of Spike’s welcoming chest to give her dad a small smile of gratitude.

 

Joyce looked at the table where all the weapons and books were scattered and a shiver went through her. She honestly didn’t know if it would have been preferable to learn her daughter was involved with satanic rituals. At least that was in the mainstream and written up in Time magazine.

 

But vampires and demons? She took a good look at her daughter and couldn’t fathom how Buffy could fight what she said she did. Yet in the back of her mind, Joyce knew it as the truth. Even as far back as the infamous Parent/Teacher night, she had seen how Buffy had suddenly took charge when that gang burst in. And how everybody had let her, recognizing Buffy as someone who knew what needed to be done.

She knew it, yet denied it.

 

She still wanted to deny it.

 

But seeing her daughter’s ravaged face, Joyce allowed regret to slip through the solid wall of denial and pain that surrounded her heart and mind.

With a heavy sigh, Joyce allowed acceptance to settle into place, wiping out the denial and accusations. Her own eyes brimming with tears, she took a deep breath and looked at her daughter. “Buffy, I’m sorry. For everything.”

Tbc….

a/n-Don't worry, Still have Angel and xander outside. It's not all peachy yet, Joyce was just bugging me, LOL.

 Thank you SOO much for all of the reviews!!! I'm sorry I haven't responded personally to them, I totally suck with that, I know. Just want you to know how appreciated it is!!!


Chapter 24


Buffy almost didn’t hear the quiet words her mom spoke, her head whipping around to stare at her in shock. God, did her mom finally get it?



“And what…exactly are you sorry for?” Buffy couldn’t help but ask, her tone only mildly hostile rather than the fully loaded version she really wanted to unleash.



Joyce took a deep breath, finding herself suddenly unnerved by her own daughter for the first time…ever. “I’m sorry for not believing you when you told me. Ok, the first two or three times you tried to tell me,” she added with a rueful smile.


Looks were exchanged around the room and Buffy stepped away from the protection that Spike offered her ravaged emotions, turning to face her mother once more. The emotional girl had finally fled in light of Joyce’s final acceptance, and the slayer now returned to occupy her usual spot.



“This is who I am, mom. It’s not going away; it’s not something that I’ll just grow out of. I’m the vampire slayer. The Chosen one.” Buffy wasn’t even about to get into the fact that there were actually two slayers, knowing her mom was not ready to hear that she had died; even it had only been for a few minutes. There was a sneaking suspicion that her mom really DIDN’T comprehend the full scope of what her calling meant, and Buffy was all for a slow induction.


Joyce nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. “I think I finally get it now, Buffy. I guess… I just wasn‘t ready to accept it and that was at your expense. For that, I am very sorry.”


Hank stared at his ex intently, wishing he‘d gotten there just a little earlier. This was his fault. Joyce should have been told but he had supported stalling the announcement for his own selfish reasons. But now Buffy was paying the price for that and he was determined to make it up to her.

He’d had a few weeks to come to terms with what his daughter was and what really existed in this world, and Sherry had been responsible for a tremendous portion of his open-mindedness, as well as being Buffy’s biggest supporter. It had taken all of his skills of persuasion to be able to escape LA without Sherry and Blair; their insistence that Buffy needed their support still ringing in his ears.

Well, that was something that couldn’t be denied at this moment. He found himself with a surprisingly small amount of reserve and trepidation at seeing Spike with Buffy; his little girl having matured from a potential juvenile delinquent into a responsible young adult in the span of a short evening.

Plus he liked Spike, although he was a bit tired of hearing his name from his girls in LA.

Giving Buffy an encouraging smile, Hank announced, “I really hope you do, Joyce. Because our little girl? She’s amazing and deserves nothing less than our full support. In everything,” he stressed.



Now that sobriety was occurring against her will, a thought suddenly occurred to Joyce. “And when exactly did you find all this out, Hank? “


“When she was down in LA with me.”


“Ran into some trouble at my club one night and the slayer here helped me out,” Spike added, smirking when he saw Hank cringe and throw him an exasperated look, having sussed out the reason for his guilty look the minute her dad walked through the door.




New lines of disapproval creased Joyce’s face once more as she had someone else to focus her energies on, a more worthwhile target. Her ex-husband. “You took Buffy to a club?”

***

Willow had dealt with some things of the majorally freaky since she had become friends with Buffy, but tonight? Well, tonight just took the cake of wiggage.


She’d tried to get Giles home but he’d appeared sober long enough to convince her that in the search for Buffy, he was more than capable of ’lending a hand.’


Now Willow deeply regretted her gullible-ness, especially after having to restrain Giles from his current task of weaving through the streets of Sunnydale calling out, “Here…Buffy, Buffy, Buffy… Come here girl,” as if he were searching for a lost pet rather than a wayward Slayer.


In between his unhelpful yells which had the potential of attracting unwanted attention coupled with the moments of hysterical giggling at absolutely nothing, Willow decided to try Buffy’s house in the hopes that she would receive news. Or at the very least she would find someone to assist her with the very drunken Watcher.


Because this was just wrong.


Willow felt an overwhelming sense of relief when they turned down Revello Drive and she spied Xander’s slouched form on the top of the porch steps. A bounce found its way into her step at the prospect of ditching Giles; more than happy to spread the pleasure of his obnoxious company around.

But a bad feeling began to settle as they drew closer and she took note of the pouting, petulant look on his face; the way he sat with his chin cupped in the palms of his hands, his elbows resting on the knees.

It did not bode well.


When she saw Angel smashed against the front door like he‘d been nailed there, her sense of foreboding escalated.

Xander didn’t look up upon their arrival, seemingly lost in a world of which only he was aware; his eyes frozen on the street before him.

Giles threw himself down next to Xander on the step, expelling a contented sigh. “Sheems you found the best seat in the house. I do believe I’ll join you.” He didn’t even seem aware that there was no response from the never muted teen at his side merely launched into a tuneless hum.

Willow trailed up the walkway slowly, watching Xander’s expression carefully. She had known her friend for a long time and was familiar with his many moods; but if she was right, this was one that hadn’t seen the light of day since they were six and she’d finally given him scientific proof that had confirmed-without a doubt- that there was no such thing as the Easter Bunny.


First Xander had cried and called her a big fat liar.


Then he had pouted. For days, he had stared morosely at his Easter basket, now unable to deny it had been his parents responsible for the meager contents and not the mythical creature he had secretly coveted.

So this was a look she thought she recognized. The look of the seriously disillusioned.


Willow found herself growing worried about him. Lots of surprises tonight, yes; but for Xander to have given up his capacity for speech was something that she hadn’t witnessed except for that time so many years ago.


“Xander?” she called out upon her approach. Eyes laden with gloom turned her way and Willow’s heart leapt. Poor Xander. He looked so torn up.

“What happened?” she asked.


“My car.”


At first Willow didn’t understand the barely audible mumble but then she looked where Xander’s focus had returned and finally began to get an inkling. “What about it?” she asked carefully.


“It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”


“Can I just say huh?” Willow asked, this side of perplexed as she sank down on the other side of Xander.


“Will you people shut up? I’m trying to listen here,” Angel growled causing a slight reflexive jump from Willow at the irritated tone.

“Well what happened?” she asked Angel since Xander was uncommunicative for the first time in… well a really, really long time. That alone was cause for the snippy tone she found herself using with the eavesdropping vampire.

With an irritated sigh, Angel peeled his ear away from the door and turned to look at the newcomers. “Could you try not to snap him out of it? I was actually enjoying the silence.”

Willow pulled out her big guns, allowing her world patented Resolve Face to take over her features as she stared down the once very dangerous vampire. “I’m waiting,” she asked impatiently.

“The car,” Angel said, motioning to the sleek black sports dream at the curb. “He started babbling about how unfair it was, then went blessedly catatonic.”

“Good heavens, you’re saying that’s all it took? Why ever didn‘t I think of something like that?” Giles asked, attempting to look intelligent but failing miserably. “Although I must say, that is quite a serviceable machine

Willow was missing something, she just knew it. Some secret…guy thing. “So what’s the big with that car?”

That seemed to snap Xander out of it, his voice bordering on the hysterical. “It’s not just a ‘that car.’ It’s my dream car. Every secret fantasy I have ever had has featured me and that car.“ Willow didn’t dare point out he had just referred to the Porsche as ‘that car,’ merely sat and listened to the rant. “And now? It’s all ruined. I’ll have to start my fantasies anew because it’s all wrong now.” Xander shook his head in silent misery, his eyes looking suspiciously like they were in the process of tearing up.

“I’m still not seeing the big.”

Angel whipped around again. “It’s Spike’s car, that’s why.”

Understanding dawned quickly. “Ahhh. Got it.” What she wasn’t prepared for was the outburst from the inebriated Watcher.

Giles leapt to his feet in protest, almost falling down the steps in the process. Managing to stay upright, he shouted indignantly, “Good lord! You can’t possibly mean to tell me that this particular fine schpecimen of an automobile is wasted on SCHPIKE of all people? Er, things?”

Xander gazed at Giles with something akin to hero worship, his head bobbing with the overwhelming commiseration he now shared with the older man.

“Yes, that’s what we’re saying. It’s a sad cruel world, isn’t it?” Xander asked, his tone completely serious.

Willow watched this take place detachedly before globbing onto a small piece of info. “Wait, Spike and Buffy are here?”

“Why do you think we’ve got Ears Mcgee there?” Xander snarked, now completely restored to his former obnoxious self. Now he knew why they said misery loves company.

“Don’t call me that,“ Angel threatened.

Attempting to straighten his glasses with little success, Giles cleared his throat and assumed what he considered his best watcherly tone, unmindful of the painful slurring his voice had taken on.

“Earsh Mcgee, I’d like a status report pleesh.” The pompous effect was ruined when Giles suddenly burst into a fit of giggles leaving Xander and Angel aghast.

Angel was just about to open his mouth to respond when the door he was leaning against was flung open.

Now sprawled across the threshold that he had been ordered to remove himself from earlier, Angel immediately shifted into game face when he saw a smirking Spike looming over him.

“Ears Mcgee, I presume?”

Angel didn’t pause to think, merely responded instinctively in a flurry of fist and fang.

Tbc
a/n boy did I feel like killing joyce off. *sighs* But, in order to make this plausibly believable (or at least a little) she just gets the bad mom award. It will NOT continue tho for the whole fic, so just be patient. 

Thank you to megan for looking this over for me!

Chapter 25

Joyce was just preparing to grill Hank about the circumspect events that had occurred while Buffy had been under his care in Los Angeles, her mouth opened and posed to fire the rapid questions only to have her attention diverted when Spike abruptly turned on his heel and exited the room, heading towards the front entryway.

A clear view of the door was afforded and Joyce watched as Spike threw it open with an exaggerated sweep. Her jaw quickly dropped open when she witnessed the man that she had been introduced to as Buffy’s ‘tutor’ fall through the open doorway to land in a sprawling heap on the floor. Her eyes practically bulged from her head when she witnessed the return of another deformed looking guy as the heap on the floor lumbered quickly to his feet and attacked Spike with a loud roar that Joyce knew no mere human could make.

“Buffy?” her mom gasped, tearing her gaze away from the snarling duo to stare questioningly at her daughter. Spike’s shift into his deformed face hadn’t really taken Joyce by surprise, vivid memories of that night at the school now firmly implanted in her mind. Her newfound lack of denial also made these things much easier to accept.

But from the determined look on her daughter’s face, Joyce knew Buffy hadn’t heard her confused questioning, her attention solely focused on the spectacle before her. It took Joyce a moment to realize that she was witnessing the transition from the Buffy she thought she knew to the warrior she had just discovered her daughter secreted.

And she wondered how in God’s name she had managed to miss it all this time.

Eyes blazing, mouth set in a firm grim line, Buffy stomped over to where Angel was in the process of attacking Spike, their feral snarls filling the air as they slammed each other into the walls, knocking pictures to a crashing mess on the floor.

“Angel! God! Knock it off!” she yelled, trying to situate herself in the middle of the brawling vamps. To Spike’s credit, he was merely blocking, although his smirking wasn’t helping to diffuse Angel’s rage.

When the antique entry table was knocked over with a resounding crash, Buffy saw red. Angel was trashing her mom’s house and attacking Spike and that was not so much with the cool as far as she was concerned. Grabbing a piece of the broken table, she warned Spike off with a look and a curled lip, noting that he was more than happy to oblige, content to watch her kick a little Angel ass. He took a step back, his hands held up in mock surrender and an amused smirk playing across his lips even though his demon was howling in acute protest over letting Buffy fight his battles for him.



But he would play nice….for now.


Spike watched as Buffy brought her leg up and executed a powerful roundhouse kick which she followed up immediately with a spin hook that nailed him in the side of the head and Angel suddenly found himself on the ground with a very pissed off and very lethal ex-girlfriend straddling him with a very sharp piece of wood positioned over his heart.

“What the hell do you think you are doing, Angel?” she demanded, hardening herself off to the look of pained betrayal that flashed over his demonic face. “You think you can just come in here and trash my mom’s house?”

“It’s Spike,” was all he was able to say, figuring that should explain everything.

“Buffy! Think you’ve got the wrong vamp under your legs,” Xander commented from his safe and secure position in the doorway. He eep’d at the pissed off snarl Spike sent in his direction. “See?” he accused, pointing at the possessive blonde vampire.

“You watch your mouth, you git. Her mum is in the room,” Spike told Xander in a steely tone.

Buffy ignored Spike’s chivalrous defense, Xander’s petulant comments, even managed to ignore the fact that her watcher had stumbled into the house; the only thing penetrating her mind was the fact that Angel had attacked Spike. In her mom’s house, no less.

“Shake off the face, Angel.”

With a pained sigh that sounded like a ridiculous lisp through the fangs, Angel shook off his demon visage and gazed up at Buffy with eyes of the truly put-upon.


“Buffy….” he began, his voice morose.

“You can’t just… fall into people’s houses and attack them, Angel!” Buffy interrupted, still outraged by his actions.

“But it‘s Spike,” Angel repeated, turning his head to look at the object of his disfavor.

“Duh! I know it’s Spike!”

“You said that already, Peaches.”

Buffy sent Spike a glare. “Stop baiting him. You‘re almost as much to blame for this so just shut up, ok?”

Spike attempted to look chagrined, but his amused smirk belied any possible sincerity.

Suddenly Angel yelped with pain and jerked his head around to find an enraged Joyce standing over him with a rolled up newspaper in her hand. “How dare you come into my house and start a fight.” She gave him another smack to the side of the head with a resounding ‘thwump‘. “And you WILL be expected to clean up every bit of this mess, do you hear me? Every last bit of it.”

“Uh Joyce, you did happen to notice that he was a vampire too, right? So maybe the rolled up newspaper swatting… a bit of an overkill?” Xander felt compelled to mention, then mentally smacked himself. This was just too good, especially watching Angel trying to dodge his head around to avoid the blows since Buffy had his arms pinned to his side with her knees. Joyce was one dangerous lady with her makeshift weapon and Xander wished suddenly that he had a camera. It wasn’t every day that a master vampire like Angelus got disciplined and smacked around like some disobedient puppy.

“Mom, think you can lay off with the newspaper,” Buffy said, slowly rising off of Angel, keeping her stake prepared in case Angel decided to attack again. The look on his face was embarrassed fury, but he didn‘t seem violently inclined at the moment.

“Well since I don’t think he’s a deformed gang member on PCP; yes, I guess I did notice.” Joyce ignored Buffy’s comment and finally responded to Xander‘s earlier one, her weapon still firmly in her grasp, ready to inflict more damage.

The terse moment was interrupted by a loud burst of hysterical laughter coming from behind Buffy. Spinning around, her green eyes widened as she took in the spectacle before her.

Her Watcher slammed back against the wall, his hand clamped over his mouth as if that alone could stop the giggles from spilling out of his mouth. When he slowly slid down the wall on legs that had obviously grown too weak to support him, Giles‘ laughter trailed off.

But then he took another look at Angel and his rumpled hair and the giggles took over as he weakly brought his hand up to point in the souled vampire’s direction.

“Earsch Mcgee…” he managed to get out, then looked at Joyce and attempted to look stern. “Jocysh, you’re supposed to rub der nosch in the messh when you schwat them.”

“Oh my GOD! Are you DRUNK, Giles?” Buffy accused, her fisted hands flying to her hips as she looked at him with disbelief. “What are you babbling about?”

“Housh-breaking the puppy,” Giles slurred, then looked around at the shattered table and mess that the two fighting vamps had made, then back at Angel’s dumbfounded expression and became lost to the conversation, tears rolling down his cheeks with the intensity of his laughter, and all that those around him could do was watch the display, unable to look away.

“Buffy,” Joyce interrupted, recovering first. ‘What is going on here? And please don‘t tell me he‘s a deformed tutoring gang member on PCP either.”

Buffy sighed, drawing her eyes away from the hiccupping watcher. “He’s my ex-boyfriend,” she finally mumbled, ignoring Spike‘s snort.

Expecting a huge backlash from that announcement and the revelation of more secrets withheld, Buffy was surprised when Joyce merely held up her hand and said, “I don’t even want to know” and walked back into the living room, stopping at the bar on the way.

Giles got himself together at the sound of bottles being clinked together and hauled himself to his feet, stumbling in the direction Joyce had taken. “Do believe I will join you,” he called after her.

Hank just shook his head and followed suit, more than willing to dodge the lecture that had been about to take place before this other…vampire fell into the house. He didn’t know the story but he now trusted Buffy explicitly and figured it was something that could wait for another time.

Buffy found herself watching as the adults in her life pounced on the alcohol, not acting in the least like they’d just had stuff of the majorally freaky unloaded on them.

It was suddenly clear to her; her life had entered the twilight zone. There was no other question or reasonable explanation. But then Buffy looked into Spike’s eyes and was once more gripped by the passion and intensity, the perfect CONNECTION she found lurking there and swiftly came to the conclusion that if this was the Twilight Zone, she was so never leaving.

Especially not when Spike walked forward to pluck the stake from her hand and tossed it away, tucking her against his side securely. Buffy didn’t even hear the gasps of shock from Xander and Willow at the easy familiarity, so captivated by the look of profound reverence on Spike’s face.

All for her.

Angel, on the other hand, began growling at the possessiveness with which Spike beheld Buffy, and even the other two interlopers in the room could practically feel the tension that poured off of the older vampire.

“Come on, pet,” Spike said softly as he encased her hand in his own, ignoring the growls coming from his elder.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked without thinking.

The sardonic tip of Spike’s scarred brow was her response and Buffy flushed crimson. “Oh yeah.”

Xander stalked up to her, with nervous glances at Spike. “What do you mean ’oh yeah’?”

“Means none of your business, you stupid git,” Spike answered, his eyes narrowing.

“You can’t really think that we are going to let you go anywhere with him, do you?” Xander asked in disbelief. “Because that would be so very foolish of you.”

Xander felt a chill go through his body in response to the icy glare Buffy sent his way and a fit of desperation struck him. “Buffy?”

Dismissing her friend, Buffy looked into the living room where her mom sat with a drunken Giles in one chair and her ex husband in the other. “Mom, I’ll be back later, ok? I have my pager.”

Joyce’s head shot up to lock her eyes on the determined green of her daughter and vehement protestation immediately came the tip of her tongue. But the assessing look her daughter was giving her allowed her to take a step back.

“Just… don’t be too late.”

Buffy’s grateful answering smile almost brought tears to Joyce’s eyes, and while this new independent daughter of hers would take a while to get used to, Joyce was reassured that things would be ok.

Joyce watched as Spike led Buffy out of the house, trying desperately to put aside all preconceived notions out of her head and NOT think of anything she really didn‘t want to know.

“He’s ok, Joyce,” Hank announced, seeing the mental conflict taking place.

“Wha? Huh? You just LET her leave with that thing?” Xander stomped into the doorway and accused, looking like he’d just had his favorite toy taken away from him. “With a ‘see ya, buh bye, oh don’t break curfew‘?”

That did it for Joyce. Tossing her shoulders back, she announced, “Yes, Xander, I did.”

Angel’s loud brooding sigh resounded through the room and Giles looked around in confusion. “Did I misch stomaching?”

“Unbelievable,” Xander muttered, giving everyone a dark look before spinning on his heel and stomping out the front door.

He was just in time to see his dream car slide smoothly from the curb and through the drivers side window, a finger with chipped black nail polish waved a silent salute back at him.

“Bastard,” Xander grumbled, scuffing the ground with his shoe. A moment too slow on the uptake, he tried to flick Spike back off but with a flash of the brake lights, his dream car and his dream girl disappeared around the corner and Xander didn’t even want to think of where they were headed.

Because sometimes denial was just so much easier.
 

 

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