“Oh my God, Buffy, you’re glowing!” Willow exclaimed as Buffy sat down across from her at the little table in the back corner of the coffee shop.
“Shut up! I am not!” Buffy exclaimed back with a grin.
“Okay, so, who’s the mystery man? No, wait, let me guess… that dishy T.A. who’s always checking you out during Psych?”
“Riley isn’t always checking me out during Psych. And, anyway, it isn’t anybody from school. Oh, god, this is so bad but… I just met him last night.”
“Whoa, what?” Sure, Buffy didn’t have great taste in the men department so far, but she usually at least got to know a guy before making the mistake. Willow was appropriately scandalized for a fellow twenty-one year old girl who was, after all, young too. She gave the disapproving face required of her, then greedily asked for every single detail.
Buffy obliged, telling her the whole sordid tale, from the stupid argument over his hair to the all-night debauchery that ensued once inside his hotel room. Willow seldom interrupted, unless she felt it was absolutely necessary, like when Buffy brought up the scarves, for instance.
“Oh my god, Buffy, that’s so dangerous! He could have…”
“I know, Will, but he didn’t. He just- gave me lots and lots and lots of orgasms instead.”
“Still, Buffy…” Willow was wearing Disapproval Face.
“I know, Will, okay? I know. I do. It’s not like I’m gonna start going to bondage clubs looking for a cheap thrill- it just seemed like the thing to do. At the time.” Willow regarded this statement for a moment, searching her friend’s features. Buffy looked happier than Willow had seen her in a while. Willow sighed.
“Okay. Then what?” She asked excitedly. Buffy grinned and finished the tale, omitting only the weird scene in the hallway with the groupies or whatever they were.
“So, did you ever catch this handsome stranger’s name?” Willow asked when Buffy stopped talking.
“Um… Spike… Rock, or something.” Buffy said uncertainly. Willow’s eyes flew wide open.
“Spike Rock? From The Players?” She screeched.
“God, Will, keep your voice down. And, also, maybe?” Willow lowered her vocal register.
“Buffy! Oz, like, worships him! You know those top 5 lists he and his friends do? Well, Spike Rock is the number 1 person Oz would go gay for.”
“Uh… okay.”
“OZ!” Willow shouted across the coffee shop suddenly and started waving frantically for him to come over.
“Will, no!” Buffy vainly attempted to avert disaster.
“What’s up, babe?” Oz asked, planting an easy kiss on Willow’s cheek once he’d approached.
“Buffy just had a one night stand with Spike Rock!” Willow said in an urgent stage whisper. Buffy buried her face in her hands.
“What?” Oz’s eyes flew open wide and he leaned down. “How did you meet Spike Rock? How was he? Was he good? Is he big? I heard he was big. I want details.” He at least had the sense to keep his voice down as he shocked Buffy with this litany of questions, which happened to be the most she’d ever heard him say at one time. When he wasn’t high and doing Top 5s, that was.
“Oh my God, Oz.” Buffy said, half embarrassed, half amused. “And- and no! I’m not giving you details. I already gave Willow all the details. Will! This was supposed to be a private conversation.”
“Sorry Buffy, it’s just… Oz worships him, like I said.”
“I really do.” Oz confirmed. “Which leads me to how? Spike rock doesn’t do one night stands. He’s very adamant about that in his interviews.”
“Well, maybe he… lied? I don’t know.”
“Spike Rock doesn’t lie.” Oz insisted in the same cool, confident tone of voice he said everything in. Buffy didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. “You’re sure it was him?”
“He said his name was Spike, and Xander said it was him.”
“Wait- you didn’t know?” Oz asked, dumbfounded.
“No, okay! I still don’t know who he is.” She didn’t think Oz’s eyes could get any wider, but they did.
“Yeah, okay. You’re coming with me. Now.” He glanced at Willow. “Us. Coming with us.” He put his arm around his girlfriend and squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Hey Larry! Take over, I’m leavin’!” He then called to someone behind the counter.
Soon, Buffy was being dragged helplessly into Oz’s van and herded helplessly into Oz’s basement apartment where she was thoroughly educated on the finer points of British punk rock, British modern rock, and Spike Rock and The Players.
Even after it was over and she was free, Buffy didn’t have the heart to tell Oz that she still didn’t really care.
Ch. 5: Wishin' and Hopin' and Thinkin'
After going nearly a year without so much as a hint of an erection, it seemed that, suddenly, Spike could not get rid of one. After the night he’d had, he expected a little white flag to shoot out of the end of his penis, rather than the pathetic little spurt of semen that, in fact, had during his shower. And now, here he was, not five minutes out of said shower, dressed in fresh jeans and a fresh black T-shirt, and one look at the rumpled, thoroughly disheveled bed had him instantly hard again.
He fluttered around his suite like bee in a bell jar for several restless minutes before taking a deep breath and opening the door.
Instantly, scantily clad women of all shapes, colors, and sizes were harassing him, grabbing at his clothes, and winking and licking their lips. Their various meant-to-be-sexy greetings all bled together.
To his immense relief, his erection vanished. Instantly. At least he hadn’t sunk that low yet.
“Piss off, you blood sucking harpies!” He yelled as loudly and menacingly as he could. About three of them backed off, but mostly, they laughed and doubled their whorish efforts. He growled and shoved through them, none too gently, and got into the elevator. A couple of the braver ones attempted to get in with him.
“No, no—you come through those doors, and I swear I will kick you right in your bloody faces.” He warned. They backed away, knowing he’d do it. Had done it once, in fact, to prove a point. He’d been arrested, of course, but none of them thought that’d keep him from doing it again.
The elevator doors closed and he sighed. Meanwhile, a half dressed bloke with shaggy brown hair came out of one of the open suites.
“Awww, ladies, don’t be sad. Jimmie Jazz is here, and there’s plenty of him to go around.” The girls giggled and swarmed around the new arrival.
He wandered aimlessly around downtown, trying to avoid crowds and any groups of women, and a dress that looked very much like the one she’d had on last night caught his eye in a shop window, and his painful, persistent erection was back.
And it was still there the next day, and the day after that. And the day after that. No matter what he did until he was, frankly, tired of masturbating and cursing himself. Why didn’t you get her number, you stupid git? Oh, right, ‘cause she was in such a hurry to leave, you probably would have gotten the bloody rejection hotline anyway, you stupid, stupid fucking bugger. Stupid blonde bitch and her stupid hips and stupid glowing green eyes and that ‘Come with me’ shit. What was that anyway? Besides aloof rocker Kryptonite. And am I really ready for this anyway? Really?
Clearly, part of him was.
His resolve crumbled after almost a week and he made his way back to Xander’s club.
The bartender’s eyes fixated on him as soon as he walked in and followed him mercilessly until he was standing at the bar.
“What’ll it be, Rock?” Xander asked, hoping his voice sounded hardened and intimidating. To his credit, it almost did. Still, Spike couldn’t resist tilting his head slightly and smirking.
“Is your- is ah- is Buffy here?” He finally managed to ask, sounding far more nervous than he looked. Xander appreciated this. So much so that he found himself nodding his head forward.
Spike followed his new line of sight to the dance floor. There was Buffy, in another skimpy dress, dancing semi-provocatively with her back turned to some college-age git who looked like he was struggling to keep up with her. And the song wasn’t even that fast.
Buffy had long ago turned her back to Mr.-Can’t-Dance-Worth-A-Crap and closed her eyes in a vain attempt to imagine a better dance partner. She wondered if Spike Rock was a good dancer—not that Spike Rock would be caught dead on the dance floor in a club like this one… and why was she thinking about Spike Rock again? Hadn’t she had a conversation with herself about this very thing? Or several, in fact? But he kept coming back, like a Terminator. A big, stupid, good-in-bed, had-made-her-do-things-she-never-in-her-wildest-dreams-she-thought-she’d-do-especially-with-a-perfect-stranger Terminator. She sighed and seriously considered just going and sitting at the bar and giving up on this dancing thing.
And then she heard a gruff, English voice say, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, “Piss off.” And suddenly, the, big, meaty, awkward hands on her hips were replaced by firm, slender, confident hands. She gasped as her hips were pulled back against a hard body- and was that also a hard? Oh. And the motions behind her got a lot more graceful and a lot more provocative. Her heart raced as she twirled around to face him.
“Hello, Buffy.” He said casually as he rolled his hips into hers.
“H-hi, Spike.” She replied as, despite the fact that her brain had more-or-less shut down, her body responded to his, as if on autopilot. He smiled an insanely sexy smile as he ran his hands down her arms to her wrists, which he gripped and brought upwards, to join around his neck. She latched on instinctively and started running her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.
“How’ve you been?”
“Good. You?” Why was she nervous? She was never nervous, not around guys. And why were her knees so weak? If his arms weren’t around her, she very well might have sunk right down to the floor.
“Mmm- lonely, mostly. And horny.” Even in the not so well lit club he could see her blush. She started to stammer incoherently. “Do you want to go out sometime? You know, dinner or something?” He abruptly cut her off.
“What? But… you don’t even know me.”
“Yeah, that’s the point of the date, luv. To get to know you.”
“You want to get to know me?” The awe in her voice surprised him. He just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer. “O-okay. Yeah, we could do that- but not dinner. I hate eating in front of people on dates. I always order something stupid and saucy and make a mess.” He chuckled.
“What about coffee, then? You like coffee?”
“I like coffee.” An evil thought occurred to her. “I know just the place, even.”
“Oh, do you now?” Was he closer to her? When did he get closer to her? And how?
“Mm-hmm.” His hands swept up her back and she shivered. “Do I- do I have to know you to leave with you again?” She decided quickly that it was worth the venture.
“You can do anything you want. You’re a big girl, right?”
“Yeah.” She said huskily and pressed against the back of his head with her hands while elevating herself up onto her tip toes, the result of which was, their lips touched, ever so gently—at first. His lips burned against hers and he slid his tongue forward to deepen the kiss as the grip on her hips became urgent. Desperate, even.
Meanwhile, behind the bar, Xander dropped the glass he’d been compulsively wiping. There was a break in the music that could not have been timed any better if someone had planned it, such that everyone in the bar heard the glass shatter. Most of the people present turned collectively to look at the bar, Buffy and Spike included. Buffy bit her lip and gave an apologetic look to Xander’s wide-eyed expression. Spike, too, even managed to look apologetic despite the victorious smirk on his lips that was pretty much habit at this point in his life.
“Wait for me outside? Maybe get a cab or something?” Buffy looked up and asked Spike.
“Yeah.” He replied, and left her to do just that. Buffy slowly made her way towards the bar.
“Xand.” She said as disarmingly as possible.
“No.” He said resolutely.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re not leaving with him.”
“What? Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Oh, well, too bad you don’t have any say in the matter.”
“Buffy, he’s…”
“He’s what? You don’t even know him.”
“Neither do you!”
“He’s gonna take me out…”
“When? After you sleep with him again?”
“Probably.”
“Buffy…”
“Xander.” She held up a hand. “I’m going. I want to go, okay? And I don’t care. I don’t care if he takes me out or doesn’t. I don’t care if you think he’s using me. He’s good at it and I want to and I’m going.” She put on her Resolute Face and he knew there was no stopping her. He sighed, big and exaggerated.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
“And- and call me if he gets creepy. Or if anything happens. Or- or if you end up at an orgy or something.”
“Xander!”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know. I’ll call you if I need you, okay? Scout’s honor.” He knew she was never a scout.
“Yeah. You better.”
“Bye, Xand.”
“Bye, Buffy.” She turned and bounced out of the club, and even Xander noticed the spring in her step.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Oz is here and he doesn't act very Oz-like, I've been told, but that's exactly why I love this chapter so much. Because Oz acting un-Oz like is hilarious to me. Hope you like it, too.
Also, apparently my original chapter 4 is too short, so I tagged Ch. 5 onto it. Sorry if that makes it seem disjointed.