CHAPTER 8 -- Bronzing
Author’s Note: A big thanks to Deestar11 and Rachel for getting my butt in gear -- sorry the update was a couple days later than promised!! Lol And a big HI goes to chopperchick -- check out her website www.karma82.com -- she has some great fiction archived there.
Buffy was standing in the Giles’ . . . showroom of cars. Spike called it a garage. It wasn’t a garage if you needed a map to navigate it. Spike walked up beside her, smiling, then shared her view of the room.
Buffy raised her eyebrow, “That’s a lot of cars.”
Spike sighed, “Yeah, my brother goes a bit overboard, doesn’t he?”
Buffy’s eyes widened, “They’re all his?”
“And that surprises you?” Buffy shrugged, with all the secrets Angel had been keeping from her, nothing about him shocked her anymore. She hadn’t told Angel she was going out, let alone with his hated brother. But he had seen her agonizing over her wardrobe, stressing over every article of clothing before settling on a black skirt and red halter with a scoop neck. The outfit was a little inappropriate for sitting around the house, but he hadn’t said a word about it, and Buffy was far from caring. It was funny, back in Sunnydale, Angel had been her world. She dreamed girlhood dreams about getting married and having children with him and couldn’t imagine a more perfect life.
Now, Angel had finally let her in to his personal life, and suddenly Buffy had a hard time thinking of anything except how she hadn’t had much of a childhood. She had been playing the strong grown-up for so long, she didn’t think she could remember the last time she truly let go and had a good time.
That was one of the many reasons she was nervous about going out tonight. Well, that and her current company -- a relationship she had yet to define.
Spike glanced over at Buffy, obviously lost in her own serious thoughts. That was the one thing he didn’t want her to be tonight -- serious. The type of high society girl Angel wanted to turn her into was not the real Buffy. Spike had seen glimpses in the kitchen of the real Buffy, and he planned on doing whatever it took tonight to make her happy. “What’s your chariot of choice?”
Buffy furrowed her brows, “What about your motorcycle?”
Spike took the opportunity to inspect her outfit, appreciating the tight little ensemble, “With that skirt of yours, I’m afraid we’d cause quite the ruckus.”
His playful tone had Buffy considering her pleather skirt, already higher than mid-thigh. Buffy couldn’t see herself straddling anything anytime soon. Straddling . . . the word had Buffy glancing at Spike’s jeans. She shook her head, no . . . no straddling, Buffy. Bad Buffy. She looked back up, meeting her date’s . . . er, Spike’s eyes, playfully, “Since when have you been afraid of a little ruckus?” She blushed at her uncharacteristically flirty tone.
Spike smiled, “Never.” He held out his hand and she took it. He led her to a wall lined with cars.
Buffy was overwhelmed at the amount of choices around her. Glossy red convertibles and even a few purple roadsters with flames going up the sides assaulted her. “Um . . . what about that one?” she asked, gesturing to a black one to her left that looked a little worse for the wear.
Spike’s eyes lit up, “A woman after my own heart.” Buffy looked confused at his words, “This is the only car in here that’s actually mine,” he clarified.
Buffy inspected the Desoto. It wasn’t as visually impressive as the others, but it looked like it had been around the block a few times, and wouldn’t be against going around a few more times if you made it worth its while -- just like the owner. The similarities between car and driver made Buffy smile.
“Shall we?” he asked, opening the passenger door with an overly exaggerated gesture.
“We shall,” she answered, sliding into the car. Spike got into the driver’s seat and revved the engine.
“Still sounds like a beauty,” he approved. The rest of the short ride to The Bronze was made in comfortable silence, except for the blaring radio. Buffy rolled down the window, allowing the rushing wind to blow though her hair. Spike couldn’t help but steal glances at the goddess sitting next to him.
She felt freer already. When she rode in the car with Angel, he never allowed her to roll down the window, let alone turn Maroon 5 up to a basting volume.
They parked the car and walked in off the street. The door was propped open by a tall bouncer with a shaved head, who gave everyone walking through the door a stern look. But when they approached the entrance, the bouncer greeted Spike.
“So the stories are true. You are back,” the bouncer smiled.
“Gunn,” Spike returned, “How’s it goin’ mate?”
“Not bad, not bad. The whole gang’s inside waiting for you.”
“We better get in then,” Spike replied, taking Buffy’s hand.
“God forbid you keep your adoring public waiting,” Gunn teased.
Spike weaved Buffy through the crowd, he returned hello’s as they went. It seemed like the whole place knew his name, and those that didn’t were being quickly informed.
Popular by association, Buffy felt like she was under the microscope of the entire bar. The guys eyed her quickly, knowing she was with Spike, therefore off limits and the girls gave her full glares while running their hands sensuously up Spike’s arm, suggesting they “get together some time,” as he ignored them and made his way to a table, pulling Buffy along.
When they reached their destination, Buffy saw that the table was already occupied. A red head girl smiled sweetly at them and a brunette man didn’t even notice them at first as he was too busy playing with a doughnut.
“Hey!” the girl greeted, “Long time no see!”
“Hey, Red.” He replied. “Whelp,” he smacked the dark haired man on the shoulder.
“Hey, Spike.”
“Will, Xander, this is Buffy,” he introduced as they sat down.
“Since when do you bring dates to your little getaway?” Willow asked. She leaned closer to Buffy, “He’s never brought his girlfriend here before. Well, besides Dru,” Willow stuck her tongue out in a “yuck” at the mention of the name.
Spike sighed, “Am I ever going to live that period of my life down?”
“Well we got to keep you in check somehow,” Xander replied. He turned to Buffy, “It’s all that Harvard law, he thinks he’s better than everyone else,” he joked.
Buffy’s mouth fell open, “You graduated from Harvard!?”
Xander looked surprised, “You didn’t tell her? Since when have you been modest? Makes his brother’s University of Sunnydale degree look like kid’s stuff.”
Before Buffy got a chance to question him further, Willow grabbed her arm, “Come on you guys, let’s dance!” Buffy brightened at the suggestion, but they were met by two questionable looks from the males. “Oh, you guys are such party poopers,” she huffed. “Let’s go, Buffy. I’m sure there’s some guys out there that would be more than happy to dance with us.” Buffy smiled and disappeared with Willow into the crowd.
Spike and Xander sat drinking their beers. “So what’s the deal, man?” Xander asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Buffy. You haven’t had a girlfriend since Dru and all of a sudden you pop back into town the most gorgeous girl in all of L.A. on your arm.”
Spike thought about correcting his friends on the fact that Buffy was not indeed his, but the idea was so damn appealing and Buffy had said nothing to lead them to think otherwise, so he stayed ambiguous.
Spike smiled as he caught a glimpse of flailing blonde hair as Buffy got lost in the beat of the music and sent a death glare to a guy who seemed a little too happy to be in Buffy’s vicinity. He watched as the newbie immediately back off and chose to grind against a short haired brunette. “She’s different.”
“Different, huh?” Xander took in his friend. In the few short minutes he’d been in the Bronze, Xander had never seen Spike smile so much. He used to come to the Bronze all the time, but he came and left alone. And after all the screwed up family shit and Dru, Spike never laughed or smiled or had mooneyes for a girl. He stayed utterly uninterested and unattainable to women. That was, until now of course. Xander liked Buffy, she seemed so sweet, the kind of girl Spike deserved. Xander looked up to follow Spike’s gaze and knew any chance of continuing conversation was futile because Buffy and Willow were coming back off the dance floor.
Willow chugged a bottled water and addressed Spike, “So, are you gonna grace us with your stage presence tonight or what?”
“Stage presence?” Buffy asked, intrigued and unknowingly distracting Spike with the droplets of sweat that were disappearing below her halter top.
Xander slapped Spike out of his daydreaming before he could embarrass himself, “I bet you didn’t know that our friend here is quite the singer.”
“Come on, Spike! Sing!” Willow exclaimed.
“Yeah, sing!” Echoed a bevy of locals.
Spike didn’t seem nearly as excited at the idea.
If there was one way to get Spike on that stage, Willow knew what it was, “Buffy wants you to sing, don’t you Buffy?”
Buffy jumped, “What? Oh, um . . .” The crowd looked at her expectantly, but none more so than Spike. “Yeah, I do,” she finished shyly.
Spike grinned and stood up, “Okay then, if the lady insists.” Buffy smiled and blushed.
Xander, Willow, and the group gathered around them cheered in victory.
Spike climbed up on the stage and was handed a guitar by a red-haired band member.
Spike got himself situated on a wooden stool and spoke into the microphone, “Here’s some a . . . here’s some Tom Waits.” He was answered by rowdy “Woo hoo’s” and screams from the crowd.
“Yeah!” Came a yell from the primarily female group closest to the stage.
“Don’t go to church on Sunday,” he started
“Ahhhhhhhh!” the girls answered. Buffy fidgeted in her chair.
“Don’t get on my knees to pray
Don’t memorize the books of the Bible
I got my own special way
But I know Jesus loves me
Maybe just a little bit more
Spike smirked, catching Buffy’s eye and winking.
I get down on my knees every Sunday
At Zerelda Lee’s candy store
Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
He growled out the lyrics, by now he had the entire building’s undivided attention. Including Buffy’s.
Well I don’t want no Abba Zabba
Don’t want no Almond Joy
Baby, there ain’t nothing better
Suitable for this boy
Well I know there’s only thing that can pick me up
Better than a cup of gold
See only a chocolate Jesus
Can satisfy my soul
Buffy now knew why Willow had called The Bronze his little getaway. The acceptance he got here was an incredible contrast to his family’s opinion of him.
When the weather gets rough
And it’s whiskey in the shade
It’s best to wrap your savior
Up in cellophane
He flows like the big muddy
But that’s ok
Pour him over ice cream
For a nice parfait
His eye’s were closed, lost in the performance -- a complete escape.
Well it’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Make me feel good inside
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Keep me satisfied
It’s got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
Got to be a chocolate Jesus
Good enough for me
“Woooooo!” the crowd exclaimed as he set the guitar down and climbed off the stage. The owner of the bar got on the stage, requested that the audience give another big hand for Spike, and karaoke night officially began. Spike came back to the table, the electricity buzzing around him, sweat pouring off him from the hot lights and pure adrenaline rush of live performance.
Spike felt Buffy’s eyes on him, the excitement of audience acceptance making him ballsy, “You wanna get outta here?” He murmured into her ear.
Buffy nodded, “Yeah,” and slide out of her chair.
As Buffy and Spike emerged from the rowdy club, the rain had already started. A particularly violent flash of lightening and crash of thunder had them huddled together, jogging to the car.
TBC
**Lyrics are Tom Wait’s “Chocolate Jesus” covered by James Marsters
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