Buffy Summers was a 24 year old bookstore clerk at a little shop in Sunnydale, California, her place of residence since freshman year of college. She had several close friends but wasn’t social, spending most nights at home reading or watching TV. Nothing new ever happened to her, and she had been single for years.
That is, until a good-looking platinum blonde man entered the store one night before closing time.
She was perched behind the cash register, flipping through the most recent Cosmo, when he walked in, dressed all in black. She studied him for a moment before looking down at the magazine again.
‘I hate when people come in here so late,’ she thought. ‘I always feel bad asking them to leave.’
When she looked at the clock moments later, it was officially time to close at ten o’clock. She stood up and walked through the shelves, trying to locate him. When she saw him paging through a poetry book, she raised an eyebrow, almost not wanting to interrupt him.
“I’m sorry, but I’m about to close the store,” she said, getting him to look up from the book and directly at her. “If you’d like to purchase that, I can go ring it up for you.”
“No thank you,” he replied, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf it came from.
‘He’s British?’ she thought to herself. ‘I’m such a sucker for accents from the UK.’
“I just had a part of a poem in my head all day and couldn’t remember how it exactly went. I figured I’d come in and check,” he continued to explain.
“Which poem?” she asked curiously, studying him.
“Resurrection by Emily Dickinson,” he answered, noticing how her eyes lit up.
“Really?” she asked. “That’s one of my favorite poems.”
“Yeah?” he asked, surprised. “It’s one of my favorites, too.”
“’T was a long parting, but the time for interview had come,” she began to recite. “Before the judgment-seat of God, the last and second time.”
“These fleshless lovers met, a heaven in a gaze, a heaven of heavens, the privilege of one another’s eyes,” he continued, moving slowly towards her, their eyes locked.
“No lifetime set on them, appareled as the new,” she said quietly, moving closer to him. “Unborn, except they had beheld, born everlasting now.”
“Was bridal e’er like this?” he replied, stopping inches away from her. “A paradise, the host, and cherubim and seraphim the most familiar guest.” She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as he lowered his face to hers, gently pressing a kiss to her lips. She looked up at him with wide eyes, shocked. “I’m William, but everyone calls me Spike.”
“Buffy,” she replied, shaking his hand, even though it seemed awkward.
‘We kiss and then we introduce ourselves?’ she thought. ‘That’s backwards.’
“It’s nice to meet you, Buffy,” he said, smiling. “Would you maybe like to go out for coffee? I think Starbucks is open for another hour.”
“Um, sure,” she replied. “Let me just lock up everything.” He nodded and watched her walk away, noticing the blush that covered her cheeks for a moment.
‘I can’t believe I’m going out for coffee with a complete stranger,’ she thought. ‘He seems like an okay guy. He knows Dickinson, so that adds plus points in his column.’ She paused. ‘Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Summers.’
* * * * *
“So, Spike, you seem to have quite a knack for poetry,” Buffy said, sipping from her cappuccino minutes later, not worried about the caffeine keeping her awake later on that night.
“I used to write it,” he admitted sheepishly, stirring sugar into his coffee. “It was a hobby of mine in high school and college.”
“Were you an English major in college?” she asked, and he nodded. “I was, too.”
“It seemed like the natural thing for me to major in,” he said, smiling. “I wanted to be an English professor.” He sighed. “But money became tight, so I had to drop out in my junior year. I wanted to go back for a while, but now I don’t see it happening.”
“What do you do instead?” she asked. “As a job?” He paused for a moment, looking into his coffee.
“I’m a firefighter,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow.
“Why do you seem so down about that?” she asked. “Firefighters save people daily- you’re like a hero, Spike.” He looked at her, smirking.
“You don’t know me,” he replied, and she nodded.
“True, but you seem like a good guy,” she said. “As far as I can tell, at least.”
“I try to be a good man, yes,” he replied, drinking some of his coffee. “And you work at the bookstore full-time?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “My dad bought it a couple of years ago and pretty much left it in my care when he moved to Los Angeles to run another bookstore.”
“That’s a great deal for a woman in her twenties,” he said, and she nodded. “You’re very lucky, luv.”
“Yes, I am,” she agreed, sighing. He smiled and put his hand on hers, both feeling a spark run through them. She looked at his hand and smiled softly.
“Would you maybe be interested in going out tomorrow night for dinner?” he asked, and she looked at him, hesitating for a moment before smirking.
“I’d love to.”
Three months later, they were still together, but when a secret about Spike was brought to Buffy’s attention, their relationship suddenly found itself to be in turmoil.
He definitely wasn’t the man she thought he was.
A/N: This is dedicated to Katie, my best friend in the world, who inspired me to write this fic, along with giving me tons of ideas for it. She’s the reason I started watching the show in the first place, so I can’t thank her enough for that. Also, her unfailing support for my writing has encouraged me to keep on going, even at times when I felt like an inadequate author. Thank you so much, my super-girl!
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is just the beginning of my latest AU, and I'll be posting chapter 1 as soon as I can. Feel free to tell me what you think, and the fun shall begin even quicker!:)