Spike rolled the object of the slightly slurred compliment as he lit another cigarette. He could not believe he’d let his mates talk him into coming to some frat party. Someone had forgotten to mention to him it was a frat beach party. As one who considered themself a punk, the idea of sand and surf didn’t really inspire a good mood within him. One of the reasons he’d crossed the pond to LA was to check out the underground punk scene. Not Beach blanket bingo with the life styles of the drunk and brainless. Speaking of which…
“My name is Harmony,” slurred the blond. Someone had suntanned one too many brain cells. Not that the white string bikini wasn’t eye catching but honestly, she couldn’t be any more Malibu Barbie if she tried.
“Spike,” he grunted. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Dressed in black from head-to-toe, and that included eyeliner and nail polish. He was certainly not in Kansas anymore. The beer wasn’t even strong enough to get pissed. He needed to find a bar, and quickly, so he could hit the jack hard in a feeble attempt to forget this night.
“Oh my god, you speak funny! You’re not from around here are you?” The Ditz wound her long blonde hair around one finger as she spoke, all she had to do was chew some gum and the cliché would be complete.
“Not quite, I’m from England,” he sighed. Why was he doing this to himself? Sure his friends were interested in chasing some American tail but he wanted to check out the bands around town. Not be checked out by vacated Barbie here.
“Wow, that’s why you must speak such good English.” Okay, that was it. He’d heard enough, any more of this drivel and he would stub out his cigarette in his own eye just to get out of here.
“Thanks pet,” And with that he went to find his friends so he could leave before any more brain cells were sucked from him.
“Buffy, would you relax? God, you’re so going to embarrass me. Stop fidgeting, hold your head up and smile would you?”
Buffy glared at her so-called best friend Cordelia Chase, who really was just her partner in crime and not much else. All Cordelia’s other friends weren’t able to go out that night and crash the frat party, and Cordy had her heart set on crashing. Apparently, there was some guy named Devon she really wanted to meet again.
Buffy didn’t want to say it, but she’d met him once in a coffee shop. It didn’t mean much that he’d invited her to the party; he was probably inviting every good looking female he came in contact with that day.
However, it was a night out, and a night out was a night not having to study and be tutored, so she’d take what she could get.
“Cordy, how the hell are you going to find--”
“Ooh! There he is, be right back!” Cordy squealed and was off.
“—him.” Sighing, Buffy looked around at the throng of frat boys and sorority girls, hoping she blended. It wasn’t as if this were the first time she’d been to a party she shouldn’t have been to, but it was with more than just Cordy so there were at least a few people who had her back, just in case.
Just in case of what? she wondered. They’re all at least close to my age. Just a few years older and none of them know I’m underage, so what’s the harm, really?
“Well, hello there.”
Buffy turned to find a tall, sandy haired guy with a beer in his hand, leering down at her. “And what’s your name?”
“Helen Barnes.” It was easier to live a little when you weren’t being your self.
“Helen, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady, my name is Troy,” he held out his hand as she went to shake it, but he took it and kissed it instead.
Buffy rolled her eyes; she could not see the appeal of the older ‘college guy’. Since when did easy access to alcohol make you more mature? Riley had more maturity in his pinky than most frat boys had in their entire body. Trying not to appear rude, she scanned the party for Cordy who seemed to have disappeared.
“Let me get you a drink,” Troy offered,
“Thanks, I’ll have a Coke. Can you make it diet?”
“No problem little lady.”
Okay, so maybe college guys weren’t all that bad.
Spike had still not found his friends but he had, thankfully, found the drinks table. As he opened his second beer of the evening, he noticed some Neanderthal out of the corner of his eye.
“This is going to be so easy man,” Mr. Neolithic age bragged to his friends. “She doesn’t even drink, she wont know what hit her.”
Spike watched as the guy slipped two tablets into the soda can. Oh please, a roofie. Can you get anymore cliché? Watching where the guy was heading, he could see a young woman waiting, oblivious as to what was about to happen.
Spike hesitated for a moment before doing what he knew he had to. He ran.
“There you go Helen,” Buffy took the drink from Troy’s hands but before she could take a sip she was knocked to the ground by something, or to be more correct, someone.
Spike looked down at the blond he had just saved from being raped and found that she wasn’t at all grateful. In fact, she looked downright irate. Her emerald green eyes were glaring up at him something fierce and her nostrils were flaring slightly on that adorable funny little nose she had—
“Get off me, you gigantic oaf!” she hollered at him, pushing him off her.
“Dude, what the hell?” Neanderthal boy slurred.
Spike rolled off the girl and glared at him, “Get the fuck out of here, wanker. I saw the whole sodding thing.”
“Saw what? How he got me a drink?” the blond grumbled, getting to her feet. “God, he hadn’t even tried to grope me yet. What are you the frat party police?”
Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “Actually, he spiked your drink, you ungrateful bint. Wasn’t wagering you fancied being tied up and used for the rest of the night, but hey, if that’s what you’re into…” And he jumped up, dusting the sand off himself and stalked off.
Buffy’s eyes widened and she looked at Troy who spun and ran, nearly tripping and falling in the sand. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what had almost happened to her. If it hadn’t been for the bleached blond menace she would’ve
been in a bad way for all the boys to play with. The thought made her shudder.
Cordy, she thought frantically and went in search of her friend to warn her.
“Damn bloody bitch,” Spike muttered, reaching for his cigarettes in his pocket.
“Oh, Blondie bear…”
Spike froze; his lighter almost to his cigarette. He turned round to find Harmony and groaned inwardly. She was smiling up at him coyly, swaying from side to side and batting her eyelashes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the blond he’d knocked over having what looked like a row with a friend.
“Get over it,! Just grow up!” the dark haired girl she was talking toyelled, before she turned and stomped away.
“Don’t cry rape when you get gang-banged!” The blond yelled back, “But then it wouldn’t be your first time, would it?”
Spike couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at that. The girl was definitely a hellion. He grinned and started for her, wanting to tell her how he admired her for that comment when Harmony stepped in his way.
“Spikey--” she cooed.
“Harm, don’t take this the wrong way, but sod off,” and he started after the blond girl, determined to properly introduce himself to her.