She went almost immediately into the kitchen, tossing things from the pantry onto the counter until she find a bag of cheez doodles. She ripped the bag open without preamble, leaving the wreckage from her search in her wake.
From there, she made her way into the living room, planting herself on the couch with her booted feet on the coffee table. She grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels, landing on Oprah and an exposé on “troubled teens.”
“I’d be a skank if I had her for a mother, too,” Buffy said, mouth full of half-chewed cheez doodles. “That woman should so have her Laura Ashley privileges revoked.”
At the point of the touching reconciliation, complete with tearful hug, Buffy burst into laughter, little orange bits flying from her mouth, though she didn’t care. “Please! She’ll be back to boinking the football team in a week.”
She reached back into the bag, frowning when she found it empty. “Well, fuck all,” she muttered, throwing it on the floor in annoyance. Buffy glanced at the clock, seeing that she still had several hours until she was supposed to meet the gang at the Bronze.
With a shrug, she decided if she had to be here with nothing to do, she might as well not even be awake.
She laid face first down on the couch and promptly passed out.
“Everything in my closet blows,” Buffy announced to no one in particular, grimacing at the overabundance of bright and cheerful. She ripped open one of her drawers, rummaging, grinning as she located her favorite pair of leather pants.
“Except these,” she said. “These totally rock.” She kept digging in the drawer, smiling when she found a matching top. Yeah, that would do nicely…
Once she was dressed, she went to her dresser, dumping out her make up bag, letting the stuff she didn’t want fall to the floor. She grabbed her black liquid eyeliner with flourish, applying it generously until her eyes were darkly ringed. From there, she picked up her mascara, running the wand over her eyelashes. She paused for a moment, observing her reflection before reaching up, using the mascara to add black streaks to her blonde hair. She topped the look off with blood red lipstick, then smiled at what she saw in the mirror.
“Damn, I’m hot,” she said, her grin spreading.
Maybe she could find some fun in Bronzing after all.
“Um, does anyone else think Buffy is acting a little funny tonight?” Willow asked the group gathered with her at their table.
“Funny how, Wills?” Xander asked before taking a sip for his soda. “Funny ha ha or…”
“Funny weird,” Willow finished for him. “I mean, she’s been dancing with any guy that comes near her, I’ve heard her say things that would make a sailor blush, and now she’s fighting with the bartender because he won’t give her whiskey shots!”
“It’s the lack of sex,” Anya replied matter-of-factly. “Abstinence makes people go crazy.”
Buffy swaggered back over to the table, straddling a chair and resting her face in her hands. “Fucking bartender. I should just jump over the damn bar and take the fucking bottle. Like to see the little shithead stop me.” She sighed. “God, I need a fucking smoke.”
“Uh, Buffy? You don’t smoke,” Willow pointed out, her tone wary.
“Yeah, and I should,” Buffy replied. She pulled herself upright and looked around. “Maybe I can bum one.”
Xander, Willow, Anya, and Tara glanced around the table at each other with shared looks for concern. “Buff, maybe it’s time to call it a night,” Xander said, reaching out to take Buffy’s arm.
Buffy snapped back away from him. “I don’t want to. Although this place is like a little piece of hell.” She perked up. “Hey, want to go knick a bottle of the good stuff? I can so totally get off with it if you guys distract the clerk.”
“I’m up for it,” Anya replied with a shrug.
“No. No!” Xander said, waving his hands wildly. “There will be no distracting and no…no knicking! Buffy, you’re acting like…well, you’re acting like you’re forty and you got into magic candy. And…and you’re going home right now.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Eat me, Harris.”
Xander sputtered. “Wha…”
“Buffy!” Willow exclaimed with a gasp. “What is wrong with you?”
“You guys,” Buffy replied with an expression of disgust. “You’re lame. And this place blows. I’m out of here.”
She got up from the table, though Xander reached out to try to stop her. Buffy grabbed his arm, squeezing it just tight enough to hurt. “Leave me alone, or I’ll crush your fingers. Clear?”
Xander nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Good.” Leaving her friends dumbfounded, Buffy walked out of the Bronze, snatching a just-lit cigarette out of a man’s mouth as she passed him outside. She ignored his protests, walking on instead, ignoring the burn in her lungs as she inhaled.
“Gotta be some fun to be had in this town,” she said to herself as she made her way down the dark streets.
Spike wasn’t sure what good it was being able to fight demons if there were no demons around to fight. It seemed like everything worth having a good brawl with had up and gone on holiday for the summer.
Deciding to call it a night despite the relatively early hour, Spike trudged back to his crypt, hoping he could at least find something halfway decent to watch on the telly.
However, when he reached the door, he stopped, his ears perking. Music was coming from inside the crypt, and he knew he hadn’t left any playing when he’d gone out.
Cautiously, he pushed the door open, his hand wrapped around a stake in the pocket of his duster. The scratchy sound of his well-worn copy of Never Mind the Bollocks filled the crypt, and Spike noted that whoever his intruder was, he at least admired their taste.
He turned, searching, and his eyes landed on a small, leather-clad form. His nose was telling him Slayer, though he blinked, for once not trusting his sense of smell. The woman stretched out on his floor, listening to his records and painting her nails with his bottle of black nail polish could not possibly be Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Then, she looked up, her dark-rimmed eyes meeting his, and Spike knew it was.
“Hey, Spike,” she said as if him coming home to find her there was a completely normal occurrence. “Where have you been?”
“Patrol,” he replied, even as he eyed her warily.
“Yeah, I tried that, too,” Buffy said as she screwed the cap back on the polish, then took a moment to inspect her nails. “It’s fucking dead out there.” She giggled at her own unintended bad pun.
Spike blinked. “Uh, yeah… Um, Slayer? Mind telling a bloke what you’re doing here?”
“I’m bored.”
“And that brought you here why exactly?”
“Thought maybe we could do something. You’re the only cool person I know.”
Well, that Spike couldn’t argue with, though he’d never thought she’d actually figure it out. Or admit it to him for that matter. “Do what exactly?” he asked cautiously. He gestured to the polish. “Do each other’s nails?”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “No. I just took this ‘cause all I had at home was some pink shit. Hey, can I have a smoke?”
Deciding the best course of action was not to anger Crazy Slayer, Spike fished a cigarette out of his duster and tossed it to her. “Here.”
Buffy caught it, then sat up, crossing her legs in front of her. “Light? I haven’t exactly perfected pyrokinesis yet.”
“Oh, right.” Spike tossed his Zippo her way.
“Thanks, babe,” Buffy replied, then stuck the cigarette in her mouth, flipped the lighter open, and lit the tip.
She took a slow drag, her eyes closing in bliss for a moment, and Spike swallowed. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that the Slayer was under some kind of spell, but damn if she wasn’t hot like this.
Buffy tossed him back his Zippo, and Spike caught it, then watched as she took another drag. She smoked as if she’d been doing it all her life, and Spike knew damn good and well the Slayer was not a smoker.
Yeah, definitely a spell.
“Hey, wanna go steal some spray paint and write obscene things all over Main Street?”
Spike knew he should back away slowly and get the hell out of there before this turned into something really, really bad. Perhaps even be all Good Samaritan-like and clue the Watcher in on something being off with his charge.
But, well he was bloody bored out of his mind and in desperate need of some entertainment. This new turn could prove to be interesting, to say the least
He shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Buffy hopped up, her perky smile seeming disturbingly out of place with the rest of her. “Cool. I knew you’d be more fun than the rest of them.”
“Could’ve clued you in on that ages ago, pet,” he told her with a smirk.
“Not sure I would’ve gotten it then.” She lifted the cigarette to her red, red lips and took a slow drag before flicking the ashes onto the stone crypt floor. “I feel different tonight. Like I’m…just waking up. Noticing things I didn’t before.” She raked her eyes over him slowly and licked those lips. “Things I think I like.”
Spike couldn’t help the shiver that past through him. Whatever had gotten into her, be it a spell or just good old fashioned insanity, he decided he liked it. “Slayer,” he said, the word a growl as he looked her up and down hungrily. She certainly looked good enough to eat, all wrapped up in black leather.
She sashayed towards him, cigarette dangling from her black-tipped fingers, and Spike swallowed hard, every one of his nerve endings on edge. She looked dangerous. He’d never wanted her more.
Buffy stopped inches away from him, close enough for him to feel her breath tickling his lips as she looked up. Then, she was gone, headed towards the door, and Spike blinked, wondering if the last few moments had been a fantasy.
“So are you coming or not, Willie?” she asked, looking back at him over her shoulder.
She may be the one under a spell, but he was enchanted. Knowing he was leaping headfirst into a chasm and not caring a whit, Spike followed her out of the crypt.
Giles looked up from his book at the sound of frantic pounding on his door. He shut the cover, rushing over and peering out the peephole before opening up to his four late night visitors.
Xander rushed in, followed closely by Willow, Tara, and Anya. “Buffy’s gone insane,” the boy announced.
“Insane?” Giles asked, his brow furrowed as he shut and relocked his door. “Whatever do you mean?”
“She’s dressed like Supertramp and taken up smoking,” Anya stated. “And she’s swearing. A lot.”
“I thought maybe she was Faith again, but Tara insists that’s Buffy in there,” Xander added.
“She wanted us to help her steal alcohol,” Willow supplied with a mix of concern and outrage.
“Dear Lord,” Giles replied. “And you’re quite sure it was Buffy.”
“It was her,” Tara said with a nod. “But something is definitely wrong. Her aura is…off somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”
“We need to do something fast, G-Man,” Xander said. “This is some seriously scary territory.”
“Where is she now?” Giles asked, concern etched on his features.
“We don’t know,” Willow answered. “She left the Bronze.”
“And she was way too scary to follow,” Anya chimed in. “Way, way too scary. She threatened Xander’s hands. I need those in working order!”
Giles shook his head, trying to clear that thought out of his mind before he directed his focus back to the current problem. “We need to research any possibilities for what could be wrong with her. Demonic possession, perhaps?”
“It’s not possession,” Tara said. “It’s only her in there, that much I could tell. It looks like…maybe a spell?” She looked towards Willow, as if searching for verification.
“It could be a spell,” Willow said. “Maybe something to alter her personality?”
“Right. Then we’ll start there,” Giles said, moving towards his bookshelves. “Willow, Tara, perhaps either of the two of you know of something we could do to help us locate the source of any magicks placed on Buffy?”
Willow opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the phone rang, causing everyone in the group to grow silent. Giles hurried to it, a voice on the other end speaking before he could even say hello.
“Remember, what goes around comes around. Enjoy your taste of karma, Ripper.”
The line went dead, and Giles hung the phone up, though he continued to grip the receiver, white knuckled.
“Giles, who was that?” Willow asked. “What’s going on?”
Giles response was simple, but enough.
“Ethan Rayne.”
Thank you to everyone who left a review for the first chapter. I was glad to see I caught the attention of a few of you. I’ve had a lot of fun writing this one so far, so I hope you enjoy reading it, too!
Please leave a review.