Author's Note:I promised myself i wouldn't start a new story,... but I couldn't resist. The idea was just too tempting.

This story is inspired by the book "Nick and Norah's Infinate Playlist" by Rachel Cohn, coauthored by ... forgot his name. If you've read the book, you'll see that there's some definate resemblance in the beginning of my story to her's...

I'm just going to say that I loved the way the book played out in the beginning... but I have a different development in mind, so it won't be the same.

(If anyone ever wants to read the book... it's in the Young Adult section. I'm surprised, though, because the language and topics are a little mature. Whatever... nobody's ever too old to read a YA fiction... lol.

It'll have some light angst (oxymoron, i know) and be overall... really spuffy.




Soundtrack of the Night

She’s standing out there watching me… Spike could feel her eyes on him, following him as he flung his sweaty head back and stomped his foot and his mallet in time to the music. She’s swaying, smiling, staring,… she knows… His voice sang harshly into the microphone, backing up Devon who was up front, hissing and screaming and jumping as the audience shouted their own lyrics back to them.

The song dragged on and the crowd was going wild. It never took him so long to get through a set before. Spike’s shirt was soaked and his head was starting spin. Bloody… hell… Drusilla was bringing her arms up behind her, caressing somebody else’s neck. Somebody who wasn’t him.

He told himself not to look at her, but even when he closed his eyes, they seemed to be glued on her. She was wearing the black and red corset – his favorite – and somebody else’s hands were inching up the ribbon lacing it up from the front.

Seize it,
Grasp it,
Kill, kill, kill,

Crave it,
Love it,
Take the pill,

Secretly hating you,
Openly loving you,
Grab me, you take my,
Will, will, will…

At this point, he forgot what he was singing. The words were mumbled and jumbled, but nobody seemed to mind. Or even notice, for that matter.

He had told her never to come. Even when they were dating, he didn’t like her at his shows. Because he knew he would never be able to concentrate if she was there. And she had agreed, goddammit. She had traced a cold finger down his cheek and placed one last cold kiss on his lips before nodding and promised him that he would never catch her in the audience. “Not exactly my cup of tea, either,” she had smiled, sardonically. And he was relieved. At least the music, he would have to himself.

Unlike his body, which was already reacting to her, unlike his emotions, which she had brutally stolen, unlike his heart, something she had treated like old milk. Drank her fill then threw it out.

Now he couldn’t even have his music. Not with her dancing there, slowly and seductively, despite the grinding, raw speed of the rock song.

Finally, Oz caught Devon’s attention, making him realize that he was bringing the song into a fourth minute, a fundamental bad thing that most bands avoided. Finally, it wound down and Spike allowed himself to breathe.

………

The probability of running into Dru and her new manslut was unusually high in the crowded club. Everyone ran into everyone. And a chance meeting with her was something he did not want. Especially if she was going to be dilly-dallying with some other bloke and rubbing it in his face.

The next band turned down his offer to help set up, so he slumped his shoulders and looked to see if anybody he knew was leaving soon. Soon as in now.

He carefully made his way to the bar, checking all around to make sure there was no pale-faced dark-haired girl that answered to the name “Vampiress”. By the time he got there, the next band launched up and the crowd was dancing and jumping again. Doing a quick survey of the area, he saw a couple of guys drinking beers and laughing over the noise, a few girls looking bored, and a short girl who was standing a few feet from where he was, whistling and waving to a member of the band that probably couldn’t see her… on account of her lack of height. Her blonde, sun-streaked hair was pulled up into a messy bun and even the dim, strobe-isk lights of the club couldn’t hide her very obvious California tan and smooth skin that screamed “Hello, I’m a rich girl.” Spike scoffed to himself, wondering what the sunny California girl was doing in the grungy section of the Big Apple.

Turning his attention away, he started scanning for a familiar male face, and by pure luck, he spotted Devon an arm’s reach away. Quickly, he slapped an arm on his shoulder, turning him around. “Hey, mate, where’s Oz?”

“Uh,…” Devon cast him a little look before shrugging his hand off his shoulder, “Left with Willow, I’m pretty sure.”

If it were possible, Spike slumped down some more. “Bloody great,” he mumbled.

“What’s with the emo look?” Devon grinned, punching him lightly in the chest, “Plenty of hot chicks around here to pick up… just look around – Hey, man, isn’t that your girl? What’s she doing with that guy…”

Spike turned his eyes to see that, indeed, Drusilla was about twenty feet away and closing in. “Shit, shit, shit…”

His head whirled both sides, trying to scope out an exit, but he was blocked in by gyrating couples and screaming, hot bodies. Before he could think about what he was doing, he turned to the short, California-born-and-obviously-raised girl next to him, tapped her shoulder and asked,

“I might sound like a soddin’ idiot for saying this… but can you be my girlfriend for, say, five minutes?”

………………
………………
………………

”I might sound like a soddin’ idiot for saying this… but can you be my girlfriend for, say, five minutes?”

The first scenario that popped into Buffy’s mind was one in which she slapped the platinum-blonde guy who had the nerve to come on to her like that and escape. She was five seconds away from doing just that when something caught the corner of her eye.

Something named Drusilla.

It wasn’t that she disliked the girl. She didn’t dislike her at all, actually. She, in fact, felt no feeling towards her that contained the word ‘like’. Buffy hated her. And it was a well known fact, too. Ever since they were young and Drusilla tugged on her pigtails, laughed, and nicknamed her “Muffy”. An unfortunate nickname she had to live with throughout junior high and half of high school, until she grew a self-esteem and learned to defend herself.

They had gone to the same public school in New Jersey since the age of five, and from the moment they met, Buffy learned that everything that went wrong in her life was attributed to Drusilla, the big, ugly bitch.

When Buffy got caught cheating… it was Drusilla’s fault, when Buffy didn’t make it to the junior high little league cheerleading squad, it was because Drusilla beat her out, when Buffy broke up with her first boyfriend, it was Drusilla who stole him from her, when Buffy got wait-listed to Columbia, it was because Drusilla actually got accepted.

And when Drusilla turned it down and she got off the waiting list, her pride made her write a rejection letter and mail it the very next day she heard of the news.

So when she saw Drusilla approaching her with a smirk on her face and a boy on her hips, she turned to face the platinum-haired guy she recognized from the previous band, reached her arm out to wrap around his neck, and brought his head down so his lips could meet hers.

”Please don’t let her see me…” two simultaneous thoughts rang out the second before their lips made contact.

Chapter 2

The loud music blended over, becoming distant in his ears the very moment her lips touched his. He had to admit, he was surprised. Spike was half ready for her to throw him a brutal rejection, so when her response was to pull his face against hers in a crushing kiss, he was caught off guard.

But it didn’t take long for him to process what was happening and wrap his arms tight around her waist, hauling her close to him in one awkward motion. She almost stumbled when he jerked her around and pressed her against the bar’s counter. His lips parted and his tongue ran urgently across her closed mouth, but she adamantly kept her lips pressed together.

His arms pulled her even closer and he involuntarily pushed her tight body even harder against the counter, almost knocking over a stool in the process. The pressure against her back made her gasp a little and in that split second, Spike saw his window of opportunity. His tongue slid into her mouth and against her own tongue.

Whatever resistance she held out against him before slipped away and soon, he felt her doing some tongue action of her own. The only thought he could process was ‘must… keep… kissing… girl’.

Her tongue was running against his teeth, then slipping past them to taste the roof of his mouth and God help him, he was turning to mush. Her arms had tightened their hold around his neck, and now there was no space whatsoever between their bodies. Damn, she was making him hot. All he knew was that as he was nibbling on her top lip, her tongue was playing with his bottom lip and he wanted it to last forever.

All of a sudden, there was a burst of applause and as the cloudy haze began to clear up, he realized that the previous band had finished their set and the crowd was going wild. To his disappointment, the applause had also waken his – as of a minute ago – new “girlfriend” and she was gently shoving him off of her with her hands.

His lips lamented the loss of hers and his body felt cold, separated from the girl it had been pressed against. All Spike could do was stare at her face as she stared back at him, panting breathlessly, a little surprised and slightly smiling. Even though the lights were flashing and moving, casting shadows and light spots on everything, he could tell that her cheeks were flushed.

Suddenly, her head turned to the side and she groaned loudly, “Oh, shit. Faith…”

And off she was, making her way around bodies, squeezing through the mosh pit of people. The funny thing was that Spike found himself following her. Why? He wasn’t so sure. For one thing, the five minutes were definitely not up yet. And for another, the path that pointed her way seem to flash ‘Possibilities Lie Here’ and damn, he needed something interesting tonight.

Oh yeah, there was that, then there was also her fuck-good kissing abilities. Talents which he definitely wanted to employ for the rest of his five minutes.

He saw her weave her way to the wall, then turn towards a girl who looked thoroughly wasted, clinging onto a guy with a wicked Mohawk and more facial piercings than some girl’s had on their entire body. Then, with a show of amazing strength – especially for a California-born-and-raised girl – she took hold of the girl and yanked her away, making her fall and tumble immediately after being separated from her facially decorated treat.

“Go away, B,” the brunette whined, flailing her free arm wildly, “I’m havin’ fun, dammit.”

Spike watched, mildly amused, as the shorter blonde whispered low in her friend’s ear like a mother chastising a child. Her friend seemed like her complete opposite from where he was standing, with brunette hair flying everywhere, smeared makeup on her eyelids and lips, black, leather skirt and fishnet crawling up her lean legs as opposed to the swept up blonde hair, vintage ‘I am the Sex’ band T-shirt over expensive torn jeans wearing figure of his newly acquired girlfriend.

The brunette girl glared and said, huffily and a little too insistently, “I’m not trashed!” indicating that she was, in fact, very inebriated. Girlfriend wore an exasperated expression and called out to the guy who had been leeched onto her friend moments before.

“R.J.!” Her voice was a little hoarse from shouting and muted from the background noise. The guy turned towards her and gave her a glazed look.

“Yeah?”

“What the hell did you put in her drink?” Her eyes, darkened in anger – or maybe it was the light, he wasn’t sure, flashed and Spike seriously felt his stomach do a few turns.

“Hey, why you always have to call me out, huh? What’d I ever do to you, huh?” He seemed annoyed, then left her standing alone with her friend who was violently trying to escape her grasp.

Spike felt like he should do something, so he took a few steps towards the scene. “You need a hand?”

Her head snapped in his direction and her eyes widened a fraction as if she had completely forgotten about him as soon as the new circumstantial developments had progressed.

………………
………………
………………

” You need a hand?”

It would be a lie to say that she wasn't surprised and taken aback by the offer of her apparently new body apparatus, or in a less interesting term, boyfriend. After seeing Faith almost completely lose it from the corner of her eye, she had more or less considered their contract terminated and set off, not expecting him to follow her.

She felt like laughing and almost did, but instead, she ducked her head down and squinted at her watch, trying to make out the time. Damn, she swore, Damn these friggin’ lights from hell. The face of her watch only reflected darkness and strobe light, making it impossible to tell the time. Which was why she needed one of those light-up watches they made little kids, not some fancy Dior thing that her mother insisted on buying her for her birthday. Sighing inwardly, she looked up, back into the eyes of the platinum-blonde guy, aka New Boyfriend, who was currently staring at her very intensely.

“You got the time?” she asked him as she was yanked forward by Faith, who was whining and on the verge of screaming in tantrum.

He shrugged, not bothering to scout out a watch or a clock, “Somewhere between ten and twelve, I’d say. Why, d’you have somewhere to be?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him… okay, it was completely that she didn’t trust him. I mean… this is the guy that just randomly invited me to be his, uh, girlfriend, her mind was spinning, trying to think of all the alternatives this night could take. Here was this almost good-looking guy who was obviously looking for something other than a short, completely breath-taking and wonderful kiss. Then, there was the matter of Faith, her wonderfully beloved cousin who was now trying to bite her arm.

Faith, the wonderful cousin who had gotten kicked out of her public school and her own home, thus landing herself in Buffy and Buffy’s mother’s house, otherwise whispered as “those people” by the rest of her family who frowned down upon their way of living. It didn’t take Buffy long to realize exactly why Faith had been booted. It was either her tendency to get accidentally pregnant once in a while, or it was her habit of die-hard nonstop partying.

So Buffy had taken it upon herself to make sure Faith always made it home in one piece. But right now, she would be lucky if she made it home in one piece.

“Goddamn, Faith, stop it,” she pried her cousin’s teeth off her shoulder, pushing her head back forcefully with the palm of her hand. Then, she turned back to Platinum-head, “Hey, do you have a car?”

He seemed a little surprised by her question, but shrugged and said, “Yeah, she’s out back. Need a ride?”

For the first time that night, she caught on to the British accent, which made her smile and she gave him 10 cool points.

“Yeah, thanks,” she said, heading towards the back of the club with Faith in tow before he could protest or say anything else.

As they approached the back door, Merl, the bouncer, grinned at her and held the door open. She smiled gratefully at him and he winked knowingly. The scene played out before him wasn’t a new one, that much was obvious.

“Thanks, Merl,” she nodded at him. “D’you mind giving my mom a call, tell her to be expecting us?”

“Sure thing,” he laughed. “Wouldn’t want her worrying. Tell your dad I said ‘hey’ and put in a word for me, wouldja?”

“Of course.”

Before they were fully out of the door, Buffy heard a familiar, hi-I’m-insane voice from behind her and instinctively closed her eyes and shuddered, inwardly trying to ward it off. She turned slowly, in time to see Drusilla striding up towards them with a wickedly happy smile on her face. Frustrated at the interruption – she really needed to get back – she tightened her grip on Faith’s arm, causing the girl to hiss at her, and gave Drusilla-the-slut’s over the top outfit a dismissive glance and her face, a deadly glare.

……………………
……………………
……………………

“William!”

Spike heard the clicking of her heels on the wooden floor before he actually heard her call his name. He had been in the middle of fishing through the contents of his leather jacket’s pocket for the keys to his Desoto when he had gotten a wave of dizziness that made him nauseous.

The sound of her voice made him want to run to her and made him want to cringe. He almost felt like laughing, too, because only Drusilla would call him by his given name. His own parents hadn't even bothered trying to call him by that name. Drusilla was the only person that he had allowed and responded to. He was never quite sure why she was so set on calling him “William”. When he asked her, she had gone off on a rant about spikes and stupid punk rock bands and she wanted nothing to do with the trash music he played. Whatever. He hadn’t been paying attention, because the sight of her chest heaving as she moved her arms had been more interesting and his mind wandered off to think about something that was much more fun than arguing with her about a stupid name. Who cared, anyways?

But hearing her say that name today made his blood run cold. Maybe it was because she hadn’t said it in over a month. Instinctively, he turned to see her marching up to him, smiling. Why’s she smiling… his mind ran through the possibilities. Maybe she wants me back… maybe she realized what a mistake she made… maybe…

And he knew that at that particular moment, if she demanded that he leave with her, he would. A month couldn’t change half a year of training, half a year of following her every beck and call. His heart thumped a little harder as he saw the way her breasts were almost spilling out of that goddamn hot corset. Her thin, pale legs swung under a black, hip-hugging suede miniskirt and contrasted with blood red stilettos.

Spike stopped breathing when she was three feet away from him and moving to invade his personal space that he would readily give up for her.

“I heard you sing tonight,” her voice was a little low and throaty and Spike concentrated on the moving garnet lips.

“Really?” he couldn’t help the eager look from appearing on his face. Wow, he really was a ponce. “Did you… well, like it?”

She laughed softly, then brought a finger up to his cheek. “I miss you, William,” she said, not answering his question. He widened his eyes. Those were words he wanted, but for some reason, he really wanted to know if she liked his music. Suddenly, it was important.

“Did you like it?” he repeated, swallowing hard. His focus was so intense on his ex-girlfriend’s pale, painted face that he didn’t even notice the annoyed California-girl behind him groan and shove her friend into the bouncer’s arms. Merl, or something.

He almost forgot about her until he felt a small, slender hand slide into his right back pocket and a warm, lean body press itself to his left side, forcing his arm to go around her shoulder.

“Hi, bitch, how are you?” she asked, sweetly. Spike’s head almost snapped as he turned to stare at her. She had a perfectly arched eyebrow lifted up slightly and her full lips were exaggerating a saccharine smile that she centered on Drusilla. Half of him wanted to shy away from her and grab onto the paler, thinner, ex-girlfriend of his, but then the other half was impressed by her forwardness and a little turned on.

“Buffy,” Drusilla took a little step back and Spike saw the surprise on her face as she turned from him to the blonde girl then back. Buffy? He thought with a wry smile. Buffy and Spike.

“Drusilla,” Buffy returned, still smiling. “Can we do anything for you? ‘Cause, you know, we’re kind of in a hurry.”

Hurry? Spike thought, dazed. He felt like he was in a cloud. A cloud of confusion. They knew each other? How? When? Since when were they in a hurry? He wanted to stay and be with Dru. But he remained standing there, of his own will or of her strong arm keeping him at her side, he didn’t know.

“Oh, please,” Drusilla scoffed, looking at both of them alternately again. “You two? Are you together?”

No, Spike thought.

“Yes,” Buffy said, nodding in affirmative. She looked up and noticed Spike staring longingly at the slutty vampire and felt like rolling her eyes at his stupidity. But she couldn’t afford to have him abandon her… she needed his car. Her arm remained tight across Spike’s back and she was more determined to keep him with her.

“How do you even know each other?”

“Oh, you know,” She answered vaguely and shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“No, actually,” Drusilla narrowed her eyes, “I don’t know. Enlighten me.”

Just then, Faith stomped her foot on the ground impatiently. “Are we going to dance or what?” she shouted, giving them all an evil eye. Drusilla tilted her head to the side and caught sight of the completely wasted girl.

“You’re babysitting that piece of trash?” she smirked and Buffy wanted to slap her. “I always knew Faith needed a watchdog. And you’re the perfect one for it, aren’t you.”

Buffy visibly set her teeth and breathed deeply. Faith, on the other hand, had heard her and was not so insistent on taking the higher ground.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re a bitch. An ugly one,” She slurred, laughing a little crazily.

“At least I’m not a no-good slut who sleeps with every – “

“You’re not? Ha. Well, that’s not what Mike and Bobby say.”

“What?” Drusilla sputtered, “Fuck you.”

“I’d let you, but I’m too classy.”

“Right. That’s why you were kicked out of your mommy’s house last year, right? Because you were so classy, you got yourself knocked up by some two-shit dick looking for a good lay, right?

“You fucking whore – “ Faith lurched against Merl’s arm, who almost fell, but grabbed her even tighter, “You little… you have no right to – “ frustrated yell and a pull against Merl, who was really working to keep her under control now “ - say that shit – get off me – “

Spike was making no move to placate the two girls, so Buffy decided to step in before things got out of hand.

“We’re leaving, Drusilla,” She said, “Bye.”

Then she turned around to face the back door, eager to leave. Her movements forced Spike to turn, too and he suddenly seemed to wake up from his stupor. He looked as if something had kicked some into him and his body and body moved from pause to fast forward as he moved to help her relieve Merl of the kicking and screaming Faith. Buffy smiled, appreciatively, and he smiled back, taking hold of one arm as she took another.

Drusilla just stood there, gaping. “William?” She asked, her voice wavering a little bit. No, not again, Buffy inwardly groaned, Not tonight….

“I’m leaving, Dru,” Spike told her over his shoulder, not bothering to turn. Both his new found ‘girlfriend’ and his ex-girlfriend seemed to be a little surprised at his decision. But unlike Buffy, Drusilla’s temper flared up.

“I need a ride out of here, goddamnit!” she shouted, angrily. “Scott upped and disappeared on me!”

Spike scoffed at the sound of ‘Scott’. But for the first time tonight, he felt his pain begin to lessen. He glanced at Buffy through the corner of his eye. She wasn’t facing him, but he could tell that she was smiling a little.

“Last time I checked, that wasn’t my problem. The car’s full, anyways.”

And the back door swung shut after them with a satisfying bang. But not before Buffy turned around and waved to Drusilla, gleefully, shouting behind her, “Bye, bitch!”



//////////////////////////

Hope you guys liked it! Because I definately loved writing it. Remember, Spike and Buffy just met. I wanted to leave a lot of room for their relationship to develop instead of having them instantly infatuated with each other.

Fic's set in NYC... but for convenience's sake, I moved Sunnydale to New Jersey and made up a few names of towns and streets.)

(The band ‘I am the Sex’ is a fictitious)
Music Referenced (I’m trying to pick classics, but since it’s a modern fic set in today’s time, there’ll probably be references to songs that have just come out. Listen to them before or while you read… ):

Elvis Presley - “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
Dean Martin / Frank Sinatra - “That’s Amore.”
Green Day – “Chump”


Chapter Three

Spike felt his mind exploding with questions he wanted to ask her. Questions like how do you know Dru? What’s a wealthy girl like you doing in a grungy club? Why don’t you like Dru? Who is Faith and why do you take care of her? Do you maybe want to kiss me again? But he kept his mouth shut and braved a fleeting glance at her.

They were walking in silence down the back alley of the club towards the alluring lights of Time Square. The city night sounds were always the same: swishing of tires as the cars thinned out and left the city, people talking rapidly to each other on the distant sidewalks, the usual hustle and bustle of the thriving, exciting nightlife. Spike had been to New York City often enough to have learnt to accept the noises and to have come to the conclusion that walking alone down a sidewalk was considered walking in silence, despite the millions of different noises around you.

Her face was almost perfectly shadowed in the darkness and the glow of lights cast a slight glimmer on her angled features. Her hair was messily pulled up, leaving some strands falling out of her thin hair tie in all the right places. He saw two studs in her cartilage and a small silver hoop hanging down her earlobe, catching the bright colors of the city before them. She was wearing a thin, beige T-shirt featuring a local band, ‘I am the Sex’, with a complicated design in the front and a pistol in the back over jeans that looked purposefully ripped. He had noticed all of this before, but somehow, in the serenity of the moment, everything seemed different. Something about her seemed completely casual yet completely intimidating. She wasn’t dressed like someone with money, but she definitely walked like one. And he was getting the feeling that she wasn’t from California.

He chose not to talk, so they kept walking in silence towards the dingy, fenced parking lot where his baby, the Desoto, was waiting for them. Well, silent with the exception of a particular giddy-when-drunk girl named Faith, who was slumped over on both of their shoulders, stumbling awkwardly along, and singing a bad impression of Elvis.

“Wise men say! Only fools rush in… But I can’t help, lah, lah, lah, laaah, laaaaah, lah,” her words were slurring into each other and she giggled between phrases, especially when she didn’t remember the lyrics. Then, she turned her head to Spike and leaned on his shoulder, never keeping her eyes off of his face.

It was funny. Normally, when he walked out the back door of a club with two hot girls in his arms, he would have been feeling a little bit proud. He chuckled to himself at the irony of it, because he felt completely unsexy. Maybe it was the stench of alcohol and something he couldn’t quite put a finger on in Faith’s breath as she opened her mouth again and asked him rather loudly, “Why is your hair so funny? It’s weird.”

Spike looked across her to Buffy, meeting her eyes as she tilted her head to look at the hair her friend was currently rubbing and inspecting. He saw her try and fail to repress a small grin, and felt more self-conscious than he had ever felt before in his life. So, he decided not to answer the question.

“Seriously, hair person,” Faith insisted with her reeking stench and her voice extremely sharp and in very close proximity with his ear. “You should, like, change it.”

They were at the lot, now, and Spike steered the three of them towards it. He saw Buffy looking back at the lights of the busy street they had been heading towards a little nervously and his respect for her grew an inch. Obviously, she wasn’t very comfortable entering a dark lot with only one dimmed street-lamp that looked like it was seconds from dying. And with a stranger, too, boyfriend or not.

Spike could tell she was checking out every car they were passing, hoping that it was his. There were run down Toyotas, Hondas in semi-good shape, and even a vintage Mustang that looked like it’s owner took care of it. But maybe not, because any owner who drove any type of Mustang wouldn’t be idiot enough to park it at this lot.

When they were at his car, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“What is that?” She asked, widening her eyes.

“My baby,” he answered with a proud grin, not paying attention to the look of pure horror on her face.

………………
………………
………………

She would be surprised if the thing even started, it looked so old. Even by just standing three feet from it, she could tell it was about ready to break into ten million Desoto pieces. New Boyfriend – William, Willie, Will-yum, was it? - shifted Faith so she was leaning, half-conscious by now, on the side of his car and Buffy heard it groan. It was definitely not a healthy groan. It was definitely a very sick groan.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” she muttered to herself. He jammed the key into the lock and wiggled it until his door swung open with a mean creak. Then, he reached his arm behind the seat to unlock the back door, looking triumphant when it made a clicking sound, indicating that yes, it was open!

“Yes! Thanks, Ms. D,” he grinned, sounding so cute Buffy wanted to laugh and kiss him again. The edge of Will-yum’s eyes crinkled when he smiled and she couldn’t help thinking about what a nice guy he seemed to be. Seriously vulnerable and open. She could read him like a book.

Buffy had to admit, this wasn’t what she expected one of Drusilla’s castoff’s to be like. He wasn’t forward or pushy like most of her men were like, expecting groupies and fans and everybody adoring them. This one seemed sensitive. Maybe even human. Huh, she thought, I bet he even writes his own songs.

“Ms. D?” she choked on her own laugh and snorted very unattractively. He didn’t seem bothered by her unfeminine side, but she brought her hand to her mouth in embarrassment, anyways.

“A right beauty she is, yeah?” He moved Faith over so he could open the back door. It’s his accent, Buffy decided, taking a step back to examine the New Boyfriend she had picked up.

Noticing that he was a bad dresser had been something that she had overlooked earlier. He was wearing a leather jacket that ended where his faded jeans started. Like one of those singers who were still walking a fine line, indecisive of whether or not they should stop shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch since they were now in a rock band and had to be badass.

It was a fucking gorgeous jacket, though. She wanted to touch it, but she wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate. It was soft and looking almost a little worn. It screamed a soft innuendo, ”See, I would go eat dinner with you Saturday, but my band really needs to practice. Oh, did you know? I’m in a rock band…”. But the bottom half of him seemed to reek of something incredibly metrosexual. Maybe he had bought it in the old days when he wasn’t cool enough to say, “I’m in a band!” She looked a little harder and decided that they weren’t Abercrombie & Fitch. They were probably Guess. The label near the belt-loops was a little faded, so she kneeled down to get a better look.

Wrong on both counts. They were Armani Exchange. Old and worn and probably off the clearance rack. The poor boy. It wasn’t that she minded the rock star clothing or the metrosexual clothing. It was the fact that they were worn together that kind of bothered her.

But she disagreed with Faith on the hair. She actually liked his hair.

Will-yum was hauling Faith into the back seat and this time, she didn’t even put up a fight. Buffy was relieved. Faith would be out of it for the next hour or so. Plenty of time to get to Sunnydale … she looked at her New Boyfriend again, this time a little nervously. She had a feeling he was from Jersey. If his clothing choice didn’t already imply it, she knew for a fact that Oz, the bassist in his band, was from Turnington. Only about a fifteen minute drive in no traffic down I-78.

So it theoretically shouldn’t be a problem for him to go over the Lincoln for her because… that was where he was headed for anyways, wasn’t it? Will-yum got into the driver’s side and she walked around to the passenger seat as he reached across to unlock her door.

After a few hard pulls, it finally gave way and she carefully got into the car. Not bad, she thought, What a surprise. He keeps this whacked up jalopy sparkly clean.

………………
………………
………………

Okay, Ms. D. Don’t fail me now. Spike said a silent prayer as he inserted his key into the ignition. It didn’t help that Buffy was silently staring at him from the next seat over and his hands were a little shaky. He turned it a quarter way and his car made a deep guttural sound as if trying to start. Then failed.

“Shit,” he swore, then tried again. It made that horrible noise again. Followed by failure again. Buffy was now raising an eyebrow apprehensively and he felt his hopes go out the window. Any minute, she was going to be getting out of the car and flagging down a taxi. And for some strange reason, he didn’t want her to do that.

There was something about her that was intriguing, so much so that he could almost forget about Drusilla. Almost. But now she was turning her head and zeroing in on the handle of the door, probably about to say Forget about it to him and leave with her friend.

He tried a third time, but the Desoto just grumped and sighed tiredly. Faith stirred in the back seat and yawned loudly.

“B, where are we going?” she asked. Buffy turned slightly and said, “To Africa. Now be quiet.”

“Oh good,” Faith murmured, “Are we taking a taxi there?”

“Yes. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t boss me around…” and she then she was asleep, snoring quite audibly from the back and leaving an awkward silence between Buffy and Spike. Spike had so much he wanted to say, still. But his engine wasn’t starting and he was becoming frustrated.

“So,” he began, trying for a fourth and final time, “How do you know Dru?”

………………
………………
………………

“So, how do you know Dru?”

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably and pressed the power button on the radio. Dean Martin’s deep, languid voice flowed out and eased some of the tension. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer the question. After all, the guy did go out with Drusilla. She wasn’t sure for how long, but any guy who went out with Drusilla seemed to never be able to cut strings. And she didn’t want to do that much damage to his poor ego. At the same time, the poor guy deserved to know the truth about his ex. And she had never gone this long without saying something.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie / That’s Amore / When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine / That’s Amore.

She sang along softly for a few moments, trying to think of how to summarize her complicated relationship with Drusilla in one sentence. How do you tell someone about somebody else who has stolen everything that meant anything to you ever since you could walk? She wasn’t so sure.

“She stole my crayons in first grade,” Buffy finally said, shrugging and opting for a light tone, “And it’s been that way ever since.”

“Oh, is that right?” his lips tightened into a silent smile. “That’s a big deal… stealing crayons.”

“Yeah, it is,” she grinned and relaxed. ‘That’s Amore’ kept playing on at volume 4, which was low compared to the pounding music still emulating from the club. Reality set in for a while and Buffy wondered how she was going to get Faith home, now, with his car shot.

“Look,” she sighed and looked at him, “You seem like a nice guy and I’m sorry about whatever it was you had with Drusilla. But I need to bring my friend home, so –“

“Where’s home, anyways?” he asked, cutting her off. Buffy gnawed on her bottom lip for a bit before answering.

“Sunnydale.”

He stared. “Sunnydale? All the way in New Jer-“

“Yeah, sorry,” she said, her defenses going up at the shocked and irritated expression written across his face. “I just figured you were probably from Turnington or Hoboken.”

“Well, yeah, but a heads up would have been nice, pet,” he slumped back on his seat. “I was hoping you’d say South Street or something along those lines.”

Buffy perked up a little at this, “Well, my dad owns a condo by the Seaport… you can probably just – “

“Yeah, but the engine…” he gestured dejectedly at the dashboard and gave it a good glare.

“Sorry, Will-yum – “

“Spike.”

“Spi-“ Buffy started, then stopped. Spike? Spike! The Spike, also known as the best boyfriend any girl at Sunnydale Prep ever had? She couldn’t believe her bad luck.

Back at the club, Drusilla had called him ‘William’, and she had just come to the conclusion that William was one of Drusilla’s many short affairs and flings while she was still dating the infamous Spike.

Every girl at the Prep knew about Spike because every Monday of every week, Drusilla would proudly show off mixes her perfect boyfriend had made for her, presents her perfect boyfriend had bought for her, poetry her perfect boyfriend had written for her. And every girl at the Prep was envious of the boy none of them had gotten to meet.

Before she could respond, they were both blinded by two headlights of a white van turning into the parking lot, bringing with it a loud rendition of Green Day’s “Chump” blasting through it’s stereos. Probably at volume 11.

You're the reason for my misery / Strange how you’ve become my biggest enemy / And I’ve never even seen your face

………………
………………
………………

He couldn’t help glaring at Ms. D’s dashboard, feeling as if he had been betrayed. Not only had she made him look like a complete awkward idiot in front of a really, really high class girl, but she had broken his heart.

Buffy was staring at the approaching headlights and he allowed himself a few seconds to replay what she had told him. She lived in Sunnydale. Of course she lived in Sunnydale. She had to live in Sunnydale! Sunnydale was the one hot spot in New Jersey. Well, if there was such thing as a hot spot in New Jersey, Sunnydale would be it. It was where all the big shots retreated to when they wanted to escape the glittery life of Hollywood. The directors, the producers, the singers, the actresses,… they all relocated their million dollar homes to Sunnydale after retirement. Or sometimes just as a tenth home just for the heck of it and because they had the money. It was the Malibu of the north. The fucking melting pot of all things that screamed beaches, tans, diamonds, money, moolah, riches, everything. Fuck.

But heading towards the car right now was his band’s van and Spike could not be happier to see it. It was like a miracle handed to him. In a few minutes, Oz could help him jump-start the Desoto and they would be on their way.

Perfect.

Music Referenced:

Frank Sinatra - “Dancing Cheek to Cheek.”
The Beatles – “Got to Get You Into My Life.”

Chapter Four


Buffy recognized Oz the minute he jumped out of the driver’s seat of the big, white van and approached the Desoto. Spike opened the window and Oz poked his head into the car, leaning his arms against the window ledge.

“Trouble, again?” he asked, matter-of-factly. Spike made a little sound with the back of his throat and lightly drummed on the steering wheel. Dean Martin changed to Frank Sinatra and Buffy almost didn’t even notice.

It was a lovely combination for the night. With Sinatra’s mellow, fluid voice almost drowned out by a combination of the Greenday from the van and the distant pounding of a metal band inside the building, set back with the regular sounds of traffic. There was a slight breeze through the window and Buffy shivered, feeling her skin prickle.

Spike looked defeated as he slowly said, “I think we need your help. Jump starting, all that rot. You know?”

“Yeah, okay,” Oz took a step back to give Spike room to open his door. After getting out of the car, he shrugged off his leather jacket and tossed it on his seat, revealing his lean, muscular arms. Both of them went to look for jumper cables in the van and Buffy leaned back on her chair, closing her eyes, trying to relax. But she was so fidgety, it was almost impossible.

Heaven, I’m in Heaven / And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak / And I seem to find the happiness I seek / When we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek.

She watched Oz help Spike open the hood of the van and admired the way Spike moved easily. He had the sort of strong back that had muscles that flickered visibly through his black shirt and Buffy admired the way his waist narrowed down. She sighed, wondering why it was that she always found guys working on their cars sexy.

He bent down and disappeared for a few seconds under the hood that Oz was holding up for him, oblivious of Buffy’s scrutiny. She liked the way his jeans fit. Not too tight, not too baggy, perfect. They were hanging snugly around his hips and his black T-shirt fell down just right, just past the belt of his pants.

Dance with me / I want my arm about you / That charm about you / Will carry me through

They were now opening the hood of the Desoto and Buffy got tired of waiting, so she got out of the car, too. For a few seconds, she stretched her arms out above her head, feeling a satisfying pull in her lower abdominal region. Smiling contentedly, she lightly rubbed her hand against the flatness below her bellybutton. It had taken almost an entire school year to work the little flab off, and she was damn proud of it. Never had she looked better in low-slung jeans that didn’t stretch to accommodate her.

From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Spike peeking at her from under the hood of the car, but when she turned around, he was almost completely absorbed with the engine, trying to figure out the plugs.

Sighing, Buffy turned back around. She could almost hear the birds chirp from the roofs of buildings and the crickets sing from central park. The night seemed so peaceful, despite the banging and clanging sounds of drums and cars and noise, noise, noise. A breeze washed over her and -

“Buffy!” a female voice called from behind her and she twisted around to see who it was.

“Willow?!” She squinted and squealed when she recognized the red-head. She ran around the Desoto and towards the van to wrap her friend up in a big hug. Willow laughed as Buffy attacked her and they held on for a brief second before holding each other out at arm’s length and admiring.

“Wow, Willow,” Buffy grinned, “Last time I saw you, the only thing you were dating was your chemistry book. I’m guessing that moving across the state was a good thing?” She stopped herself, realizing her assumption, “I mean, you are dating him… right?”

“Oz?” Willow looked over to where the boys were, attentions completely occupied with the car at hand, and sighed blissfully, “Yeah. He is so…” she tilted her head and sighed again.

“So… in a band? So… gorgeous? So… a badass bass player?” Buffy giggled and Willow’s smile grew.

“All of the above and then some,” She shifted her attention to Spike, “You and Spike?”

“New development as of almost half an hour ago,” Buffy squinted at her watch again, but again, the only thing she could make out was the glint of the crystals pleating the silver ring reflecting the street lamps and the moon.

“New development, huh?” Willow smirked slyly, “And how much of a development might that be?”

“Mmm,” Buffy looked up at the sky, dreamily, “Maybe a three-minute taste. Definitely not enough, but hey, what can a girl do?”

Willow elbowed her, playfully, “You slut. A girl can take him out for the night. Let him know that there is a life besides lying in bed all night feeling sorry for himself because his evil ex-girlfriend dumped him. You should spend time with him,” She paused to look at Spike who was currently sneaking a not-so-discreet glance at Buffy, who was staring at the sky like it was something she never noticed before, “Have some fun.”

Buffy snapped out of her sky-gazing and turned to her friend.

“Sounds like a perfect plan if we were in dream-land,” she shrugged, then absentmindedly kicked at a piece of gravel that was falling from the deteriorating lot, “But I have to take Faith home or else –“

“Why don’t you let me and Oz take her home?” Willow interjected, looking a little excited, “I still know where you live. 11 Revello Drive, Sunnydale-home-of-the-beautiful-and-hopeless, right?”

Buffy stopped what she was doing to listen to the offer.

“Come on, Buffy,” Willow tried again, poking her harder with her elbow, “Show him a good time. He really needs it. Faith’ll be fine with me and my groupie, Oz. Or maybe I’m the groupie. Hm.”

“I’d love to, Wills, but…” Buffy stared wistfully at Spike who was stretching his back and reaching up to close the hood, “Responsibilities… Faith… you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” Willow gave her a funny look, “Last time I checked, you were the anti-Responsibility. Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscience..”

“Oh look, little Willow’s grown a sense of humor.”

“I’m serious, bitch,” Willow laughed.

“Oh! Language…” Buffy pointed at her and made a tsk sound, “Maybe Oz isn’t such a good influence.”

“Shut up. He’s perfect.”

“Right.”

“Stop talking about me. We’re talking about you, remember? You and Spike,” Willow nodded towards Spike who was now talking to Oz and giving them a curious look every so often. “Look at the guy. It’s sad. He’s so sad. When’s the last time you did community service, Buffy?”

“You’re funny.”

“That’s what I thought. Well, why don’t you start now? It’s for a good cause,” Willow fished into her back pocket and came up with a 20 spot, then slipped it into Buffy’s hand. “Put this to good use, okay?”

Buffy shook her head, then gave the money back to her friend. “I don’t need it. Just take good care of Faith, okay?”

“Yes!”

Willow practically skipped to the back of the Desoto and yanked the door open. Faith almost fell out.

“You wont regret it,” She laughed, looking back at Buffy who sighed and went to help her drag an unconscious Faith out to move to the bed of the white van.

“Oh, I know I wont,” Buffy shook her head. “I just hope you wont regret it.”

Faith chose that minute to start coughing and vomited straight onto the ground, narrowly missing Willow’s feet. Willow cringed.

“Still think this is a good idea?” Buffy laughed at the look on Willow’s face.

“You just better show him a really good time,” she glared.

“Okay,” Buffy put her arms under Faith’s armpits and hauled her out. “That’s a promise.”

………………
………………
………………

Spike looked on silently as the two girls dragged the limp body of Faith, who looked like she was about ready to heave any minute now, to the band’s van. He couldn’t believe it. Just when he thought the night couldn’t be any more confusing, he was thrown yet another surprise.

“So. You and Buffy?” Oz reached into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Spike.

He took it and looked over at his band mate, questioningly. “You know Buffy?”

“Yeah, we go way back,” Oz answered simply, as he stuck the white cancer stick between his lips. He patted the back of his pockets, looking for a lighter. Spike watched as he found one then cupped a hand around the flame as he lit his cigarette. When he finished, he passed the lighter over and Spike took it, lighting his as well.

“I guess an elaboration’s out of the question, then?” Spike slowly blew out a trail of smoke, then handed the lighter back to Oz, who pocketed it.

“No need for one,” he shrugged.

“Right.”

Spike turned back to look at the girls. They finally succeeded in pushing Faith into the back of the van and he secretly prayed that she wouldn’t throw up on one of their instruments. Buffy laughed at something Willow said and Spike couldn’t help but smile a little bit. The orange light of the streetlamp hit her hair at just the right angle and something about her seemed ethereal and down-to-earth all at the same time. She was intriguing.

“What about you?” Oz asked him, snapping him out of his daydream.

“Me, what?” Spike questioned, not knowing what he was talking about.

“You and Buffy – hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Oz was giving him an expression that looked halfway between a laugh and a serious glare.

“What? Yeah,” he answered, indignantly. “’Course I am. More than okay. Right and dandy. Peachy. I feel like a shooting star. I’m a Greek god. I’m beautiful like the stars in the heavens, mate. And I’ve finally gone insane.”

“Peachy?”

“Uh… yeah. About that. You didn’t hear me say any of that.”

Oz stared at him for a little while, bewildered, wondering what the hell his friend had to drink. He certainly didn’t look drunk. Or stoned for that matter. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Okay.”

“I just… I don’t know,” Spike sighed, looking back at Buffy who caught his gaze and held it for a few seconds before smiling and turning back to Willow. His smile widened by a fraction. “I mean… I just met her. And, I,… I guess she’s alright. For someone from Sunnydale.”

“Okay,” Oz said, slowly, then took a step away from him. “This conversation has officially become too effeminate, so I will slowly walk away from you and suggest that you have a beer.”

“Oh, shut up, you git,” he muttered as his friend turned on his heel and walked towards the van and the girls. He flicked his cigarette and pretended to be intensely interested in the orange glow of some ash falling to the ground.

Every so often he would glance up and see Oz laughing with the girls. Something in him wanted to go join the group but he was feeling a little weird. Particularly this moment. Particularly this night. None of it seemed real.

Especially the girl. She didn’t erase the pain that Drusilla had burnt in his heart. Not by far. But there’s something about her, he thought, watching the way she hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and threw her head back slightly when she found something funny.

Something about her told him that he should make getting to know her a high priority. Because maybe, just maybe, she could ease her way into his heart and begin to heal the scars.

Faintly, he recognized the Beatles happily singing “Got to Get You Into My Life” inside of the Desoto, softly overpowering the other sounds of the night.

I was alone, I took a ride / I didn’t know what I would find there. / Another road where maybe I / Could see another kind of mind there

He saw Buffy turn to look at him and smile as she slowly made her way towards him. Oz and Willow got into the car and waved before they drove off, taking Greenday’s album with them. But all he noticed was the way the girl from Sunnydale, land of the proud and rich, was getting closer, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jeans and biting her lip as she finally stopped in front of him.

The Beatles sang on happily and he felt this peaceful easiness relax into him as he looked into her eyes. And for once, he felt like the night was finally beginning.

Got to get you into my life / Got to get you into my life

Music Referenced:
(‘Powers in the Pistol’ is a band created by the imagination of yours truly)

The Beatles – “Got to Get You Into My Life.”
Three Days Grace - “I Hate Everything About You.”
“Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats” – musical, Cats!

Chapter Five

After a few seconds of silent staring, Buffy reached up and plucked the cigarette from his mouth, completely breaking whatever spell they were both under.

“These?” she paused, raising a slightly amused eyebrow and holding the smoking white lung-cancer inducing, gross-breath making death-stick up for him to see, “will get you nowhere.” With that, she dropped it to the floor and ground it with the heel of her brown Pumas.

“Hey!” He stared at the destroyed cigarette on the floor and exhaled slowly. “Come on! Did you really need to – “

She gave him a quirky little grin, then made her way to the passenger seat, running a hand on the heated exterior of the Desoto as she walked. Spike stared at her and she saw a myriad of expressions on his face. Fascination. Annoyance. Mucho Confusion.

It almost reflected the emotions and insecurities floating around in her own head. Part of her was silently cursing herself for letting Faith go. Another part was beginning to like her new ‘project of the night’. And another part was a little scared. Scared of what? She couldn’t really say. Maybe scared of getting attached. Scared of getting too close. Scared that he might be a psycho serial murderer… but wait, he was Oz’s friend.

The ambush of the contradicting thoughts made her pause as her hand was about to pull the handle of the door. She stared at it for a second. If I do this… then this is it. No turning back, no running away. Her fingers were curled under the lever and ready to squeeze, pull back, get in, but the millions of images – images of the night to come, images of the many nights to come, images of the nights that past – kept her from making that final little nudge to where the lock would click and the door would spring free.

Buffy looked up and Spike was looking at her with a curious expression from the other side of the car. He smiled when she met his eye and she smiled back. The Beatles smiled at them from inside the car and she took a deep breath. And opened the door.

Spike got in after her and started shifting the gears so that the car was finally in motion. Buffy was still thinking so many thoughts per second that she couldn’t take the happy tune of “Got to Get You Into My Life” and pushed the CD button so that the radio clicked off and something else clicked on.

………………
………………
………………

Spike heard the first few guitar strums of a song he had written about two months ago when he was beginning to fall hard for Drusilla. It was part of a mix that he had made for her, a compilation of small bands, big bands, his band. And of the twenty songs on the CD, he only sang, wrote, played, and recorded one song. One goddamn song that he wanted Drusilla to hear and when she did, realize that she maybe loved him too.

The ironic thing was that of all twenty songs on the CD, the one that played the minute Buffy’s shiny clear-polished finger pressed the ‘CD’ button was the song he had written. The song he had named “I see through you”.

It took a split second that seemed like eternity for him to get his gear into motion and to press the skip button before Buffy could actually hear any of the words he had to say and sing in the song. It was almost too personal and he didn’t want to scare her off before the night even started. He saw her quickly glance at him from the corner of her eye, then fix her stare straight ahead. Her mouth seemed to have tightened up and he was afraid that he had lost her for a bit.

“So, what’s your fancy, pet?” Spike asked her as he approached the exit of the parking lot. She was staring through the windshield and it almost seemed as if she hadn’t heard him, except for the fact that she twitched a little when he said ‘pet’.

But she didn’t say anything. He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. To his left was Time Square, to his right was 8th avenue.

“Do you want to go home?” He prayed she wouldn’t say yes or nod or do anything in the affirmative. The night was still young and he wasn’t exactly up for driving all the way to South St. Seaport. Or across the Lincoln, for that matter. Again, he got no response, which he took to mean ‘no’.

“Are you hungry?”

No answer. Spike lightly drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, wondering which way to turn. The lights to his left were alluring, but he wasn’t about to jump into the crowd of tourists, especially now when it was a new summer and everybody in the entire bloody world felt the need to journey to the city.

“You… know any good bands in town?”

He could hear the flies outside the window through her silence. Maybe even a violin player underground in the subway entrance, playing some folk song for a few quarters. If he listened hard enough, he could hear a plane flying in the distance.

“Wanna go to Time Square and throw rocks at the tourists?” Was he even talking? He looked at her, but she was concentrating on something. Like the small crack on the windshield or the smudge on the dashboard. Or something obscure and incomprehensible that was rolling around in her mind – a mind that he felt an urging to get to know.

“Watch some bloody vampire porn?”

Buffy jumped slightly and looked at him, a little wide-eyed as if just jerked to life from thinking hard about something. Finally! Spike thought, relieved. Finally, we’re getting somewhere…
………………
………………
………………

“Watch some bloody vampire porn?”

Buffy distantly heard his distinct voice, discolored with a little tint of annoyance. When she finally noticed him, it sounded as if he had been talking to a non-responsive version of her for a while.

She had recognized the first few notes of the song that had played before he quickly changed it, but he probably didn’t know that. Drusilla had played it to their Calculus class and had laughed at it because she thought it was so lame. But when Buffy heard it, she felt a pang of jealousy. She wished someone would write a song like that for her.

”The way you turn your head,
Seeing nothing,
Seeing everything,

The way you smile at me,
Daring,
Caring,

I see through that cover of yours,
And I still…
Want it,
Love it.”

She would give body parts for a boy to write that for her. And here was Spike, staring and waiting for her to say something.

“Vampire porn sounds lovely,” she replied with a straight face. Spike grinned and flipped his left signal on, but veered left onto the street before the light had a chance to start blinking.

“Your request is my command,” he bent his head down and swung an arm out in a mock bow and she couldn’t help but laugh a little. She snuck a peek at him grinning and leaning forward at the red light with the illumination of Time Square glistening on his face, making him glow blue, orange, red, green, and the rainbow all at once.

“Such a gentleman,” she said softly, and he grinned even wider.

………………
………………
………………

Spike didn’t know where he was heading in the slightest. All he knew was what his head told him. The lights. The lights. Go towards the lights. And here he was at an intersection, with Time Square sitting in front of him, inviting in it’s own flashy, exciting way, about to turn onto Broadway. That was, whenever the light changed, which wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

He had a feeling, though, that he would have to go very, very off Broadway to find monsters and vampires and sex. Silently, he cursed himself, You should know where these places are… The light was still red and he racked his brain for his “And Devon Said” file, where he could possibly find every club, concert, show, and dirty place in the entire city, if not in the entire country.

And then it hit him… Caritas… He had never been there before, but what the hell. It was a night for new things. And it was definitely a good night to check out the scene over by the hidden alley on 49th.

………………
………………
………………

The second the light turned green, Buffy almost fell out of her seat. Spike had swerved like a madman and Buffy hadn’t put on her seatbelt. Groaning, she rubbed her elbow and turned to give him a little glare.

“Who the hell issued you a license?” She asked, reaching over her shoulder to put on her seatbelt.

“What? I’m a great driver,” Spike objected, then changed lanes, cutting off a speeding taxi to his left. Buffy heard the taxi’s wheels shriek wildly as the driver slammed on his brakes and shook her head. The taxi honked angrily and gave him the finger.

“Yeah. You’re super,” Buffy sighed, secretly wondering if she would make it through the night. Or, for that matter, make it to the next light. She pushed a button on the sound system and heard a peculiar whizzing sound coming from the trunk. “What was…”

“You just changed CD’s.”

“Oh… I don’t get it,” Buffy shifted her body around so she was facing him and had one leg up on the seat.

“Get what?”

“Why is your entire car worth less than your stereo?”

He gave her an expression of total shock and mock hurt. “Oy!” He pet the dashboard lovingly and exaggerated a whisper “Shh, don’t listen to her Mrs. D. She didn’t mean it.”

Buffy laughed when Spike turned to her with an offended look on his face, “I think you’ve insulted her.”

“Aw, it’s okay. Don’t take it personally, okay D?” She giggled and Spike laughed, too. But the mood was completely killed when she heard the song coming through the speakers.


I hate everything about you / Why do I love you / I hate everything about you / Why do I love you.


Spike changed the subject. “Caritas sound good to you?”

But she couldn’t answer him. Not with Three Days Grace screaming out “I Hate Everything About You.” All it took was the clench in Spike’s jaw to realize what this CD was. The Break-up. Holy-mother-of-all-things-good, she breathed out, slowly, He sets his life to music.

“I seriously don’t need this now,” she sighed, but didn’t make any move to change the CD turntable again or lower the volume. Maybe he needed to hear the song. Maybe he should just get over that itch-bay rusilla-Day.

It was his turn to be silent, and Buffy just shook her head and said, “Caritas it is.”


………………


After Spike had squeezed his Desoto in a meter spot between a Mustang and a Mercedes, they walked in step down to the entrance of the club, where they could both feel the pounding of music emulating from behind the closed door. Buffy couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to him. He had something to say about virtually everything, from Shakespeare to Oreos, from punk rock to Broadway musicals.

“You really want to go in?” Spike raised an eyebrow as two gender-questionable people walked through the doors. They were covered in body glitter from head to toe and were wearing nearly see-through fishnet skirts that could even make Drusilla blush. Buffy grinned and tugged on Spike’s arm, pulling him towards the door.

“Yeah,” She said, “Anyways, I heard Power’s in the Pistol’s playing a surprise gig here tonight.”

“Really?” Spike turned to her, surprised. “Here?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, what are we waiting for?”

Buffy laughed and took the elbow he held out for her, linking her arm with his, as they walked up to the big, black iron door of the club.

………………
………………
………………


She’s amazing, Spike couldn’t help thinking. Talking to her was like dancing; it had a rhythm, a pulse, a satisfied and excited texture. They volleyed words back and forth like pro-Tennis players.

Right now, she was laughing at something he said and he admired the way her hair had gotten loose from her hair tie and the way she seemed to be completely oblivious about it. Her smile was real. Genuine. The edges of her eyes even crinkled. He couldn’t believe how he had been so lucky as to have picked her out of all the girls in the club. Maybe it was fate. He looked at her and wondered if she believed in destiny. If she believed that the fact that they were walking together, arm in arm, bumping shoulders occasionally, was all pre-written in some ancient order of the universe.

They reached the entrance and he pulled the door open. They were greeted by blasting music from the group on stage doing a seriously provocative cover of “Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats,” a song in the musical, Cats!. He squinted down from the balcony at the stage, and noticed that the three performers all had red spots on all over their skin.

A man in green walked up to them and smiled, widely. Wait, scratch that. A green man…

The man flung his arms out in welcome, “Hello! Welcome to Caritas. Can I see some I.D.?”

Spike jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and pulled out his wallet containing the fake he had swiped from Devon, stating that he was 25 and from California. Buffy was doing the same thing to her pockets, but from the look on her face, had come up empty.

Shit… he thought.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath.

Music References:

“Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats” – Musical “Cats!”
“Memory” – Musical “Cats!”


Chapter Six

The performers on stage were wailing and hissing and the crowd was softly talking to one another and the lights were dimmed to a foggy blue, making everything softer and shady and beautiful. And all she could think about was the fact that her pockets were void of everything save a fifty dollar bill in the back left of her jeans. She felt around desperately for a hard, plastic, something that resembled an I.D. The singers were dancing and the dancers were touching each other, oozing sex and rock and classy-trash. Jellicle cats are queen of the nights / Singing at astronomical heights / Handling pieces from the Messiah / Hallelujah, angelical choir. It was like nothing she had ever heard before.

”Shit,” She swore under her breath. The ‘cats’ onstage hissed and purred and she was certain they had the ability to make any Broadway song blush-worthy. But Spike was looking at her with a “oh fuck” expression on his face and the green man in the snazzy yellow suit was holding his hand out expectantly, waiting for an I.D. An I.D. which she didn’t fucking have. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You don’t have it,” Spike stated the obvious. She could hear his voice near her through the growing noise of the club below them.

“Shut up,” She said sharply, “Let me think.” Spike gave her a look. A ‘Like if I stop talking, you’ll be able to think better through all the other noise’ kind of look. But he closed his mouth and silently stared.

“Um…” Buffy stammered, glancing nervously at the green man who had retracted his hand by now and looked like he was about to shake his head and order them out. Then, before she could think of something to say, he leaned forward and squinted his eyes at her.

“Wait… Buffy?” The Green Man asked uncertainly, scrutinizing her face. Buffy let out the breath she was holding, because she definitely did not have a fake I.D. She stared at him for a moment. Lorne? There was some resemblance in the eyes… and the nose… and the mouth…

“Oh my God, Lorne?” Buffy brought her hands up to her mouth, feeling like she could laugh and squeal in excitement at the same time. She threw her arms wide opened and launched herself onto him for a tight embrace as she mentally thanked the Powers That Be that her father was the head of a major record company. Most of the major honchos in the music industry knew her by name and it really came in handy sometimes.

Back in the day, when Lorne had been a singer, he had signed on with her father. But after a year, he had decided that fame was definitely not for him and looked into opening a local music joint. Buffy looked around her, impressed at what he had accomplished.

“How are you, Sweet-cheeks?” Lorne held her out at arm’s length and whistled at her shirt. “Wow, definitely not Daddy’s little girl anymore, are ya? Somehow, I don’t think your father would like seeing the logo of his competitor’s main band on his daughter…”

Buffy shrugged. “What can I say? I developed my own taste. And anyways, I am the Sex is amazing. Who cares if they’re mainstream? Have you heard their bass player? Freaking insane.”

“Oh, I’ve heard, cupcake, I’ve definitely heard,” Lorne grinned, then leaned in and lowered his voice, “I’ve also heard another one of your favorites is coming in at about… midnight. Power's in the Pistol, right? You didn’t hear it from me.”

He glanced down at the I.D. in his hand, then looked past her shoulder at Spike, who was looking a little confused, and said, “25? California? Give me a break, muffin. I’d be surprised if you’ve ever even seen the sun. But you kids have a good time and head over to the V.I.P. section that doesn’t exist. Drinks are on the house.”

Lorne gave Buffy another quick hug and kissed her on the cheek, smearing some face-makeup on her in the process, then walked away to greet the crowd that had just walked through the door.

Spike followed Buffy down the stairs of the balcony to the slightly elevated dining level that was separated from the dance floor with a translucent, flashy plastic-like curtain that was drawn up from the side to make it look like they were on a stage.

“Wow,” Buffy said, admiring the setup. The bar was on the far end of the dining level and there were round, modern-looking tables all spread out, making the scene look like a darkened, sex-inducing, music-loving, light-flashing restaurant. Past the fake stage-curtains and three steps down was a few barstools surrounding ten handfuls of people dancing to the band elevated on the real stage before them. Well. Band in the least literal sense of the word.

“Is it me, or does that bloke have really sharp teeth?” Spike whispered in Buffy’s ear and she turned her head to look at what he was pointing to.

“Sharp teeth,” she nodded in affirmative. “It’s like Halloween in the summer. Next time we come, we should dress up.”

She didn’t even realize she was planning a ‘next time’ for them before the words came out of her mouth. After she realized what she had said, she bit her lip and tried to wait out the awkward moment of silence.

Finally, Spike gave her a little smirk, “I agree.” And her shoulders sagged in relief.

………

A little while later, they were sitting at a table in the corner with a virgin Strawberry Daiquiri for Buffy and a glass of water for Spike. She had to admit, his choice in drink both surprised her and disappointed her at the same time. Maybe it was just another strange Buffy-trait, but she always felt that people resembled the drink they liked. Like if Spike had ordered a Jack Daniels, he would exude that party-boy, I-get-drunk-and-I-get-drunk-often feeling, which would tell her to put some distance between them. Or if he got Sex on the Beach or a Cosmopolitan in public, she would probably question his sexuality. But then, if he ordered, say, a slick martini, he’d look like the epitome of high-income, wealthy, business-man class.

But she expected him to order a beer, the typical teenage-guy beverage of choice. So when he said, “I’ll just have a glass of water… on the rocks,” with a wink to the bartenderess, eliciting a laugh from her and a funny look from Buffy, she was slightly disappointed. He got five cool points for going the non-alcoholic path, but at the same time, had lost seven cool points for ordering water. How boring. I mean… we’re at a club for Christ’s sakes, she thought. Oh yeah, and also two cool points off for flirting with the lady bartender.

“And I thought British guys liked it ’Shaken! Not stirred…’,” she said wryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Spike laughed at that and shook his head.

“As much as I hate to admit it, pet. Bond can remain clear-headed after downing a handful of martinis. I’m not so slick. Yet.” he cocked his head to the side and swirled the ice in his water around, “I wanted to stay clear-headed tonight. Don’t feel much like getting drunk and missing something.”

He did that half-smile thing and she nearly swooned. Okay… all cool points redeemed.

A female had slithered her way onstage and pressed the microphone to her lips as she started to wail out the first few words of “Memory.”

“I had no clue that song was so… seductive,” Buffy observed. The woman had the microphone stand tipped and between her legs and was sliding her hand slowly over the curves of her body as she sang about how she ‘was beautiful then’.

“It’s not,” Spike said. “I just think she’s looking to get laid tonight.”

“Or that.”

After a few minutes of staring at the entrancing performance, Spike turned to her. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“What?” She looked at him, surprised.

“Tell me about you,” he pointed at her with his straw and leaned back into his chair.

“Well…” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say, “What did you want to know?”

“Everything,” he stated, a little too softly for her to hear. “Anything.”

She didn’t know where to begin. How does someone tell somebody else about themselves? Suddenly, she felt like she was falling back in time to September of her Senior year in High School, when she was writing college applications and going through the “Getting to know you” process on paper. Was this different? Should she talk about her life’s goals, how she was ambitious, that she was valedictorian, smart, the daughter of a well-known musical producer?

“I graduated first in class from the most pretentious private high school in this country, if not in the world, which makes me a Type A first-class snobby bitch.” She started, matter-of-factly.

After a pause, she decided to just go with whatever came to mind, “I drive stick shift. I’ve watched Fight Club twelve times and have not gotten sick of it, yet. My father’s a big corporate hippie in the music world and has acclimated me into the industry since I was two years old, so I blame him for making me into a music junkie. I think he expected me to be a music-making pothead, but apparently, I’m a disappointment since I can’t sing unless I’ve had ten wine coolers and I’ve never bothered to do drugs. I have a secret crush on J.J., Power’s in the Pistol’s very own drummer. I dislike the taste of alcohol. I planned to go back-packing across Europe next year, but that plan was shot to hell a few months ago. The shirt I’m wearing now is a promo of my dad’s worst business decision ever – not signing on I am the Sex because their lead singer, Fred, was an obsessive compulsive, clean, non-drug-using-and-abusing neat-freak with a bad case of acne. Which is really too bad, because Fred is a genius when it comes to writing songs. Anything else you need to know?”

Spike didn’t waste any time asking, “So why is back-packing across Europe shot to hell?”

“Well, mainly because I was supposed to go with …” She paused mid-sentence because at that particular point in time, she had looked out onto the dance floor and had caught sight of Reason # 2 why she rejected Columbia (aside from the fact that they had originally chosen Drusilla over her. Those bastards.) walking in a direct line towards her. There was absolutely no mistaking the broad shoulders, the spiked brown hair, the charismatic grinning, and the worst-timing-ever ability he was always so good at.

She swallowed the words back into her mouth the second he was two feet away and looking down at her with those huge soulful eyes of his.

“Hello, lover,” Angel smiled. How she hated that sleazy smile. Hated and almost loved it at the same time. Memories of the two of them came rushing back to her, almost drowning everything else out. Fun memories, loving memories, memories of post-sex disappointment, memories of him spitting spiteful words at her, memories of catching him in a lip-lock with Drusilla, memories of him running after her as she ran away, memories of a terrible break-up, memories of her forgiving him a month later, memories of him leaving for college and never returning phone calls. Then the memories ended. Up until now. “I’ve been looking around for you. Never thought all I had to do was enter a queer loser’s club to find you.”

………………
………………
………………

The more words that came out of her mouth, the more Spike liked her. She was blunt, she was funny, she was smart, she was talented, she made him work for her attention. Most of all, she was so different from Drusilla or any other girl he had ever dated for that matter. Never in a million years had he expected to be attracted to a girl like her. I better watch it, he thought mildly, I only knew her for a few hours and already, she’s beginning to change me. Not that she tried. Just by looking at her, he wanted to be what she wanted him to be.

Was that healthy? Because right now, at this very particular instant, this fraction of a second in an entire galaxy of moments, he had forgotten completely about his broken heart. It had to be healthy.

Then a hard, condescending voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hello, lover. I’ve been looking around for you. Never thought all I had to do was enter a queer loser’s club to find you.”

Who the hell did he think he was? Spike thought, looking up from a stiffened Buffy to the Tall, Dark, and Broody standing practically over her. Sensing the ‘We have a deep, dark history’ vibes coming off of both of them, he kept his mouth shut and waited for Buffy to tell the git to fuck off. From what he had learned about her so far, she didn’t take shit from anybody. So, he was sitting there, expectantly, just counting the seconds until Buffy came up with a smart, sharp reply to the ignorant, dominating voice coming from the hulking figure in a really bad-ass leather duster.

Hm. Maybe I should get one of those, he noted. As devoted as he was to his current leather of choice, the duster did have flair.

The words hadn’t come out of Buffy’s mouth, yet, and Spike was beginning to get a little nervous. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table.

“Can I help you?” Spike asked, making his voice just as commanding and just as sharp. The guy didn’t take his eyes off of Buffy.

“I was talking to the lady, so back off, buddy,” he said.

“That’s how you talk to a lady?” He pushed his chair back and got up. Bloody hell, he’s taller than me, Spike thought, irritably. It didn’t matter. He could be pretty damn scary if he wanted to be. Buffy stared up at him and widened her eyes. “And from looks of it, this lady doesn’t want to talk to you right now. So fuck off, Peaches.”

The guy finally looked at him and raised his eyebrows, making his forehead crinkle up. “Who the hell are you?”

He turned back to Buffy, “Who the hell is this, Buff?”

Spike thought he heard Buffy mutter under her breath something about a ‘five-minute boyfriend,’ but then she stood up and with a defiant, angry look on her face, pronounced, “Not that I have to answer to you, but he’s The. Man. I’m. Currently. With… Angel.”

Buffy turned to him with a slightly apologetic look, “Sorry, I’m rude. I should make with introductions. Spike, this is Asshole. Asshole, this is Spike.”

Angel – what the fuck kind of sodding name was that? – backed off a step or two and stared at the two of them, a little surprised. Then, he let out a sharp laugh and turned to Spike.

“Sorry, buddy. I didn’t know she was ruining another guy’s life already, or I wouldn’t have rendezvoused with you guys and broke up this lovely party.”

“Apology accepted, mate,” Spike bit out, annoyed, “Now be an angel, Angel, and sod the fuck off.”

“Leaving,” Angel did a half turn, then swiveled back to face him. “But I just gotta warn you… you’re dating a polar ice cap. Sub Z, frigid, icebox bitch of a woman.”

Buffy looked like she could shoot fire at him from her eyes and she clenched her fists. “Fuck you.”

“Already did,” Angel laughed, “It wasn’t very good, but hey, why don’t I call you back in a few years. Maybe you’ll have learned a thing or two about how to keep a man happy by then.”

It was a well established fact that Spike despised men like him. Guys who talked like that to women because they were obviously insecure themselves. So it was no surprise when he kicked back the chair in his way, pulled his arm back, and threw Angel a good one in the face. The satisfying smash resounded in his ear and Angel fell back.

“Fuck,” he snarled, straitening and wiping the blood dripping from his nose. He looked like he was about to attack, but Lorne was approaching, followed by two burly men that looked like they were made out of solid steel. “I’m not going to waste my time with Billy Idol and his frigid bitch. Can’t say I didn’t warn you, pal. The girl speaks a fine line, but when you enter the field, you realize it’s fucking empty. Empty.”

Then, he left, shoving himself through a concerned looking Lorne and his entourage. Though a small crowd had grown around them and the bang of the club door swinging shut rang out, the music kept playing and the dancers on the floor kept dancing.

Spike’s hand was sore and when he turned to look at Buffy, he saw a mix of sadness, anger, and admiration. The first two directed at the bastard who had just left, and the last one directed towards him.

And that felt pretty damn good. Maybe even better than how punching the guy had felt.





Author’s Note: The last line Angel says is a direct quote from the book this story is based on. I thought it was a pretty amazing line.

So, yeah. Spike’s not the only one who needs a little bit of healing. You’ll learn the history between Buffy and Angel in time, throughout some parts of the story.

Music References:

“You are the One” – Shiny Toy Guns

All other music and band mentioned beside what’s referenced above is made up by yours truly.

Chapter Seven

“Well,” Spike finally said after the period of silent staring. “That was dramatic.”

“And traumatic,” Buffy muttered cynically, but she couldn’t help the corner of her lips from curling up slightly into a little hint of a smile. “He has a knack for being emphatically climactic.”

“Right. And is he always so cinematically charismatic?” Spike continued, smiling with her. She laughed at this and nodded.

“That would be him. Ecstatically melodramatic to the nth degree. Not to mention psychosomatic, problematic, and … ” She just shook her head, changing her direction and cutting off her rant. The mood lightened and Buffy nibbled on her bottom lip, trying to find something to say, “So…”

“So…” Spike repeated after her, “He’s an ex, I’m assuming.”

“Yep. The ex to top all exes,” Buffy nodded, forcing the memory cloud back over the horizon until it disappeared. “And to think. I thought he was the one.”

“Like Drusilla?” he asked and Buffy couldn’t answer.

No. Not like Drusilla was what she wanted to say. Nothing like Drusilla. This was real. It was sacrifice, time, heart-ache, heart-break, it was developed. Nothing with Drusilla is ever developed. But one glance at the look on his face shoved the words back down her throat, never to be voiced.

“He’s the reason why back-packing across Europe is not an option anymore,” She said, avoiding his question. And he’s also another reason I turned down the one school I really wanted to go to.

Spike just stared at her, blankly.

“He was the one I was planning to go with,” she explained. “We had it planned out forever. The year right after I graduated, he would study abroad and I would go with him and travel. Could we not talk about this?”

Lorne arrived at their table at the nick of time, out of breath and a little bit flustered. She had never been happier to see him and his array of colorful clothing before.

“Hello, Mike Tyson!” Lorne clasped his hands over his chest dramatically, “That quite the arm you’ve got there, ain’t it? Definitely slugged the slug out of that slimy slugball, muffin.”

Spike looked embarrassed and Buffy hid a giggle under her hands. Lorne laughed and tweaked his cheek before turning to Buffy. “Looks like you’ve found a keeper, Sweet-cheeks!”

Buffy met Spike’s eyes and smiled, softly. “Yeah. Looks like I did.”

“Much better than that – Oh! They’re calling me up, I’ll catch up with you lovebirdies later!” Lorne rushed off in the direction of the stage. Buffy’s eyes followed him as he bounded across the dance floor and up the steps, her mind somewhere else.

I’m having a moment, she realized mildly, eyes locked on Lorne’s yellow suited retreating back, yet not really seeing anything. She was having one of those slow, revolutionary moments that make the world go around a little bit slower and carefully clears up the fog called life. The smile that was slowly creeping onto her face grew into a full fledged grin when she realized that yeah, she could move on.

Angel was a first. An entire book of firsts. Maybe that was why it was hard to get over him. But realizing that here she was in a place she never would have dreamed of being in with a guy she never would have dreamed of being with… it was a stepping stone and she was finally ready to step off of that morbid, disgusting mess of a ground floor that she had been wandering in for the past few months.

“Buffy?” She felt a hand on her arm, yanking her away from her thoughts. Spike was giving her a curious look.

Before she could answer, Lorne’s smooth, languid voice filled the entire club, stalling even the dancers on the floor.

“Now do I have the treat for you, beauties and beasties!” The crowd started cheering before he could go on and he shook his finger at them, playfully, “So it seems that my special surprise is more special than it is surprise, but you guys don’t look – or sound – like you mind so much…”

“NO!!” The dancers and diners shouted simultaneously. People were jumping up and down, building excitement, of course they didn’t mind! Was he crazy??.

“So if you’re ready to be blown out of your pants - and I do mean that literally! – let’s show our next guests how New Yorkers do the proper welcome! Let’s hear it for Power’s in the Pistol!!”

His last words were drowned out as the crowd in the club went wild, whistling, cheering, screaming, as the four members of the band rushed in from backstage, instruments and mallets in hands, pumping their fists up as they welcomed the audience welcoming them.

Buffy found herself jumping out of her chair and cheering in sync with everybody else. The sound was thunderous. Intoxicating. As the band started up with a hardcore rock song, everybody was jumping up and down as one.

It was the power of the music in the hands of the Power’s in the Pistol.


………………
………………
………………

She was going wild and he loved it. Her hair was falling out of the loose band keeping it together and her hands were in the air and she was jumping and crying out and her face seemed flushed under the blue overhead lights of the club. And he loved it.

It was another ocean that separated her from Drusilla. Drusilla never jumped. She never cheered, never laughed like her life depended on it, never lost herself in the music, never let herself go, … never let her hair get messed up.

He stood and got close to her, close enough for her to sense him and lean against him as she moved to the beat.

Keep laughing like you’re reeling me in,
Dancing with me like second skin,
You know that we become one, when
The drumming sounds a lot like sin,
Yeah…

Spike pulled her close by the hips and bent down to nuzzle the side of her neck as she stretched her head back against his shoulder. Her back was rubbing against his chest and she put her hands on his arms as he latched himself to the belt-loops of her jeans.

He wanted to kiss her, but he stopped himself. Her eyes were closed and she was lost somewhere in her own world, leaning onto him for support. It was a feeling he knew well. The music made it so easy.

They stayed like that for the rest of the first song. Her lost and him holding her. How was it possible that it was so natural? Spike wanted to stop thinking about it, but he couldn’t. How was it possible that he couldn’t stop thinking? What was she doing to him?

The lead singer grabbed the microphone and blew in it softly after the song was over. “The next set is something a little bit different,” he nearly made half the females swoon as his soft voice was amplified through the club.

“How does he do that?” Spike heard himself asking. Buffy opened her eyes.

“Do what?”

“Get attention like that. All he has to do is whisper.”

“And make me want to jump him?”

“Hey!” Spike let go of her and she laughed, pulling him back and putting her arms around him under his jacket.

“Just kidding,” she gave him a little squeeze, “I like drummers better.”

“Right. Like that J.J. bloke back there on the stage? What were you saying about him earlier, pet? Secret crush, was it?” Spike smiled through his mild jealousy.

“Like him. And that other drummer guy. Goes by Spike, maybe you’ve heard of him?” She gave him a dazzling smile and he felt himself relaxing again. Buffy reached up and traced the hollow of his cheek. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Oi! I’m not…” Spike couldn’t continue when she was raising an eyebrow at him like that. “… cute.”

“Mmm, okay,” Buffy shrugged and buried her head against his chest. “Smell nice,” she murmured and closed her eyes.

The band had picked up on another song. A ballad. A ballad cover of a familiar song. What was it? He couldn’t remember the name, so he just wrapped his arms around her as they slow-danced in a close embrace.

You are the one
you'll never be alone again
your more then in my head - your more


………………
………………
………………

The lead singer, A.J., was right, Buffy smiled as she inhaled Spike’s scent, the next set was different. Who ever thought of turning electronica to a rock ballad?, she thought as she recognized the Shiny Toy Guns lyrics.

You are the one
you'll never be alone again
your more then in my head - your more

Spike was rubbing circles along her back and she realized that she had never danced like this with Angel. Angel was purely a grind down, cop-a-feel type of guy.

The intimacy of the moment made her shiver and before she could think, Spike was removing his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders.

How come he was so perfect? She pulled away for a moment to look at his blue, blue eyes. So blue and dark, like the ocean after sunset. Buffy saw herself reflected in them and she did the only thing she could in a moment like this.

She put both hands lightly on his cheeks, tiptoed up slightly, and kissed him.

………………
………………
………………

He was surprised when she pulled away and even more surprised when she tenderly touched his face and kissed him sweetly on the lips. His eyes closed and he allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of her lips against his.

It occurred to him that this was the first time they had kissed since the first time after he asked her to be his five-minute girlfriend. And it also occurred to him that it wasn’t because he asked her to or because he was desperate or because they were trying to get away from somebody. It was completely out of the blue and for some unexplainable reason, that made it all the more better.

Buffy pulled away after a few long moments to catch her breath. Her eyes were still closed, her forehead was pressed to his, and he could feel her gentle, warm breath against his mouth.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. What was she thinking? he wondered.

Wordlessly, she took his hand and pulled him away from the crowd of slow-dancing couples that had formed around them.

Spike raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly, not bothering to ask her what she was doing. He just followed her blindly as she lead him off to a dark corner.

Her sweaty hand was gripping his tightly as she pushed through the heavy door with a neon bathroom sign on it. As soon as they were in, she pushed him back against the door, making it slam with a satisfying thud, and attacked him with her lips.

God, she’s so… his blood was coursing through his body at marathon rate and he could hear the pounding of his pulse accelerating as she teased apart his lips with hers and ran her hot tongue against his. He vaguely registered reaching backwards and locking the door behind him as she left hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck and reached for his belt buckle.

Buffy… Buffy, Buffy, Buffy… His mind silently raced ahead to what they were about to do as she popped the top button of his jeans and slid her hands up his stomach and his chest, bringing his shirt along for the ride.

Music References:

“What’s your Fantasy” – Ludacris (*)
“The Bad Touch” – The Bloodhound Gang (**)
“Animal” – Nickelback (***)
“Take it Slow” – John Legend (****)

( ** are so you can keep track of the music, since some songs only have a one-line appearance)


Chapter Eight

The bathroom was dimly lit, casting an sporadic orange glow on their bodies as the light overhead flickered, threatening to go out at anytime.

The skin beneath her hands was rock solid and trembling and it left her wanting more, more, more. The more she tasted the saltiness of his sweat and flesh, the more she wanted. It was addicting. The heat was addicting and it left her numb and shaking. Her mind wasn’t thinking in clear lines anymore, she was no longer in control.

His hands left her body long enough for her to take his shirt off and even that split second seemed too long. She needed his touch and after the shirt was flung aside, he was back on her, rubbing, feeling, exploring under her shirt.

Her breath came in short rasps as their mouths locked again. Soft, soft, Spike… she moaned, drinking him in. He was running his hands down her arms now, removing his leather jacket from her shoulders in the process.

“Mmm,” she murmured against his mouth. He nipped at her jawline and made his way to her ear, eliciting soft mewls from her as she ran her hands up and down his back, reveling in the way his muscles moved and quivered under her touch.

She was back at his pants again, with the top button undone. He gasped slightly when she slowly unzipped his jeans and slipped a small hand under the elastic of his boxers.

“Buffy…” he whispered, almost reverently. When she had him in her hands, his head slammed backwards and collided with the hardness of the door.

………………
………………
………………

He couldn’t keep the rush of every single heated lyric he had ever heard in his life from bombarding his head. Rap songs, sex songs, love songs, lust songs, kissing songs, sex songs, sex songs… sex....

(*) ……I wanna, li-li-lick you from your head to your toes, and I wanna……

Fuck, Buffy, he thought for a fleeting second. There was no room for thoughts, only sensations, touches, the way her hands were traveling across his skin, giving him goosebumps and making him burn up.

(*) ……But I gotta, kn-kn-know what-what’s your fan-ta-ta-sy!……

Did he even like rap? He wasn’t sure anymore. He also wasn’t sure if he had ever been this hard in his entire life, and he felt like he was about to explode. But what was he going to do when her hands were unzipping his pants and taking his member out of his boxers? Definitely not think about what was happening. What was there to think about?

………………
………………
………………

She loved the look on his face as she took him in her hands. Loved the way he whispered her name and the way he was silently rambling incoherent words, straining his neck and flexing his muscles trying to control himself.

Buffy kissed him again, hard. This time, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her, making her almost stumble as he rammed her into the opposite wall, inches away from a grimy sink that looked like it was about to crumble to the ground. She could have sworn a few tiles on the wall shook loose from the impact and it almost made her laugh, despite the sharp pain that went searing through her back.

His erection pressed against her stomach as he ate at her mouth, hungrily. She arched against him and held on to his arms for her life.

It became her goal to make him shout her name, to make him pant harder, to make him lose himself. She turned them around so he was the one with his back pressed against the wall and slowly knelt down in front of him.

His hands were stiffly trying to grab at the slick wall tiles behind him as she inspected the task at hand.

She stared up at him, attempting to read his expression as she stroked his shaft with one finger and ran her thumb over the head. His eyes squeezed shut and his breathing was staggered.

It was never like this with Angel, she realized. With Angel, she never experimented. It was always up, down, up, down, pump, pump, pump. With Spike, she wanted to be creative. She wanted to see what made him want more, what made his body spasm, what made him weak, what…

“Buffy, stop,…” she heard him pant and she froze in her ministrations. His voice sounded choked and forced and in that second, she realized what she was about to do and leapt back.

………………
………………
………………

(**) ……So show me yours, I’ll show you mine…

(***) You're beside me on the seat
Got your hand between my knees
And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze


Spike was losing control and losing it fast. Did she even know what she was doing to him? He wanted this more than anything, but something in the back of his mind was telling him to stop. Stop. If you want to keep her… stop her. You have to…

The back of his mind was a blubbering, fucking pansy. Stupid tosser, the other part of his mind was growling at it. But for some reason, once the thought came up, it stuck.

What was he doing? Everything was too heated, too spur-of-the-moment. Was she going to regret it? Was it because of that wanker with the girly name… Angel?

He knew he was an impulsive male, but for the first time in his life, with Buffy kneeling before him, making him almost lose himself, the inactive portion of his brain decided to wake itself up. And start thinking.

“Buffy, stop,…” His voice was constricted and tense. He really didn’t want her to stop. Great timing, him and his dick silently cursed his conscience.

Buffy scrambled away from him, looking extremely embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…”

That was exactly what he was afraid of.

What would be in her mind when the heat passed and reality set in? Obviously second thoughts, judging by the flustered look on her face. His eyes closed as he ground down on his teeth and set his jaw, holding his breath and willing his hard-on to abate.

“Oh, God,” Buffy sounded like she was about to run off and his eyes popped open, alarmed. “You must think – Oh God – I’m not… I’m not usually –“

Spike tucked himself in and zipped up his pants as quickly as possible.

“Wait, Buffy…”

She had gotten to her feet and was slowly backing up towards the door, staring at the sink next to him as she blindly felt behind her for the doorknob.

………………
………………
………………

Buffy couldn’t believe herself. What was she thinking? Good job, Buff, she wanted to scream at herself, You hardly know this guy. What makes you think he wants you? Bad, bad decision. But the other voice in her head told her that he definitely wanted her.

Then what was the problem?

She was torn between being horribly insulted and being relieved. Did she really want to go this far with somebody she had met a couple of hours ago? That could definitely have lead to … things of the bad. So, yes, a part of her was relieved that she hadn’t gone that far.

But what did he think of her, now? Did he think she was just another skank who would offer anybody up and ready a blowjob in a dirty bathroom? The thought made her want to gag and she turned for the door.

Before she even had her hand on the lock, Spike was at her side, pressing himself to the door and blocking her way.

“I’m sorry,” she said, refusing to look at him.

“No, Buffy, wait,” he took her chin in one hand and forced her to look up at him. She saw the same confusion etched out on his wrinkled forehead.

“I don’t usually do this.”

There was a short silence and she could have sworn she saw a smile gently tug at his lips. Then, he nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t usually stop.”

“So…”

He sighed and his hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But we have the whole night together, yeah? I don’t want to make this a…”

“Stop and go?” she couldn’t help but press her face against the hand that was gently rubbing it.

Spike took a step closer and kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Let’s take it slow, shall we?” he said in her ear and she shuddered at the warm breath and the accent that she still wasn’t used to.

“Yeah, I’m all with the slow,” she answered, slowly.

He stepped away from her and they both did a quick image check in the mirror. Buffy re-did her hair and tried to wipe off the mascara that was slowly beginning to streak her eyes while Spike pulled his shirt down back over his head. Before they left, Spike handed her the leather jacket and helped her into it and she couldn’t help but get a little melty at the gesture.

When he wasn’t looking, she lifted the lapels and inhaled quickly, smiling at the faint scent of cologne and smoke.

“Ladies first,” Spike gallantly held open the door and motioned for her to step out before him.

“Ever the gentleman,” she grinned.

Spike smirked and squeezed her ass as he followed her back out to the club. She squealed and slapped his hand away, making him laugh out loud and take her hand in his.

Buffy’s lips curled up slightly as she was reminded of a certain stanza of a certain Johnny Legend song. She looked at their entwined fingers and squeezed his hand, gently.

(****) We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow

………………
………………
………………

Spike watched from a distance as Buffy hugged Lorne goodbye. Her hair was still a mess and her makeup was slightly smeared, the sleeves of his leather jacket were a little too long for her, the body a little too big, and she still managed to take his breath away. How did she do that?

Kissed a girl and met her after / Then learned all about her… her laughter? No… doesn’t work. Words subconsciously formed around in his mind as he raised two fingers to his forehead at Lorne’s goodbye wave.

As soon as she was at his side again, her hand found his and grasped it tightly.

She’s filling up my pages / With her laughter, so contagious / She makes me feel courageous / It might be advantageous / To keep her for a while,… yeah, keep her for a while

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, looking up at him with those eyes. What color were they? He still hadn’t gotten a good look at them and the lighting in the club did nothing to help him.

Spike’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin and he swung their hands in time to the music as they walked towards the exit.


.............................
A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far and I really hope I didn't set you guys up for a disappointment when they decided NOT to go any further than 2.5 bases. I wanted them to have a solid foundation before they did anything either of them would regret, and in order to do that, the possibility of sex had to be presented to them... I think the fact that Spike resisted makes him seem all the more... idk, idealistic?

There's just a few more bumps in the road after this, and I promise it's Spuffy fun all the way.

Oh... and another thought. I pretty much have all the songs that i'm planning to use for their "soundtrack" of the night ready, but if anybody else thinks they know of a song that could fit, feel free to suggest it and I'll look into it.

Music Reference:

“I just called to Say I Love You” – Stevie Wonder. (*)
“I just wanna hold your hand” – The Beatles. (**)
“I will follow you into the Dark” – Death Cab for Cutie. (***)

( ** are for your reference)

Chapter Nine

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at the pitiful expression on Spike’s face when his car failed on him again. He looked so defeated with his brow wrinkled up and his lips tightened in a straight line; it was adorable.

“Oh, yeah,” he glowered at her, trying the engine again, knowing that he’d be disappointed, “Just so funny, innit? A real riot, this is.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that – you look so cute and frustrated…”

“Yeah. Bloody adorable,” Spike ground out flatly, then gave up, pulling his keys out of the ignition and throwing it roughly on the dashboard. They sat together in silence and listened to the faded sound of multiple melodies fused together, oozing out of stores, clubs, and cars driving past.

“So…” Buffy said, slowly, drumming her fingers lightly against the passenger seat compartment.

“So, what’ll it be? Subway or taxi, love?” Spike poised.

Buffy wasn’t even sure where they were headed to. “Walk? It’s a nice night.”

“That it is.”

They got out of the car at the same time and Spike smiled wanly at it. “Stupid, soddin’, piece of trash,” he sighed affectionately, running a loving hand across it’s hood as he walked over to the sidewalk to stand with Buffy.

She mock-gasped and slugged him gently in the arm. “Don’t listen to him, Mrs. D!” Buffy said, before covering the side-view mirror “ears” of the car with both hands, playfully shielding it from his words.

“And she says I’m adorable,” he laughed before holding his hand out for her to take.

………

They walked for some time, heading for nowhere in particular, letting the pull of different nightlife sounds draw them down different streets and avenues. When they found themselves ambling down 42nd, nearing the hustle and bustle of what was Time Square, Buffy realized she was subconsciously picking out certain songs she recognized from the music in various backgrounds and singing them under her breath.

Tonight’s mood of choice was seemingly sappy love songs, she vaguely comprehended as she hummed through several Frank Sinatra songs and Stevie Wonder’s “I just called to say I love you,” for what seemed like the fifth time in fifteen minutes.

(*)
“I just called to say I love you, I just called to say…” Her voice faded away slowly when she realized she was singing out loud to the restaurant’s music as they passed it.

“… how much I caaare, I do” Spike finished for her, loudly exaggerating a few words with his head thrown back. She laughed and ignored the strange looks people were throwing their way. What? she wanted to ask them, Never felt this way before?.

“I love that,” she said when he was done.

“What, pet?”

“You know… getting a call just because. A random ‘I love you’, you know? Nobody ever calls just for the heck of it anymore.”

Spike nodded, “It’s this new bloody generation. Everybody’s set apart, every man for himself, yeah? Can’t get too close, can’t be too open. We like to say we love with everything, live for anything, all that rot, you see? But I think we’ve forgotten the little things.”

“Like holding hands,” Buffy held up their linked hands and smiled.

“Yeah. Like holding hands,” He ran his thumb across the back of her hand and sang, “Oh please say to me, You’ll let me be your man, And please say to me, You’ll let me hold your hand...” (**)

“Mmm,” Buffy sighed dreamily, leaning a little closer to him. Her very own rock-band boy to serenade her night after night…

He sang to her all the way to Broadway.

………………
………………
………………

Spike cocked his head to the side as they stopped at an intersection, a breath away from Time Square.

“You hear that, love?” He asked, his ear straining. Buffy looked questioningly up to him and he nodded towards the Saturn stopped at the red light. A cigarette dangled loosely from the hand of a hairy arm hanging out of the car’s rolled down window and it’s stereo was just loud enough for him to catch a few words.

(***)
Love of mine…
Someday you will die…
But I’ll be close behind…
I’ll follow you into the dark…

“That’s definitely not depressing,” Buffy raised a sarcastic eyebrow. Spike silenced her with a shake of his head.

“No, listen,” he urged, “Romantic is what it is.”

No blinding light…
Or tunnels to gates of white…
Just our hands clasped so tight…
Waiting for the hint of a spark…

The light turned green and the car screeched off as the two of them started walking again. Spike couldn’t help thinking about that song.

“Romantic…” Buffy repeated slowly. He inwardly kicked himself for his choice of words when he heard the amused lilt of her voice. You could write a book, he thought, frantically trying to dig himself out of another declaration of ‘Oh! How adorable!’ , call it something like Hello There! I’m a Ponce!.

“Well, uh, in a manly…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed hard.

“Aw, that’s so –“

“Adorable? Cute? Yeah, got the memo, Goldilocks.”

“Well, I was going for ‘sweet’, but adorable works, too,” Buffy laughed.

Spike decided that his manhood wasn’t worth saving anymore, especially since the more he tried to salvage it, the more it seemed to be in danger. Cute..., bloody hell.

“I’m serious!” He insisted, “Did you listen to the words coming out of Ben Gibbard’s mouth?”

“Uh… ‘Love of mine, one day you’ll drop down dead and … dead,’ something like that? Which is, by the way, definitely of the scary, sinister, … stuff,” she shrugged. Spike widened his eyes, horrified.

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! He’s talking about – “ Spike paused for a moment, “Forever, you know? He’s saying he can’t live without her and he’ll follow her right to the very end of the bloody world. That’s so –“

“Raw,” Buffy supplied, letting go of his hand to wrap his jacket tighter around her body. Spike could feel the cool of the night breeze on his bare arm and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, trying to warm them up a little.

“Yeah,” he nodded, feeling the dull pain in his chest that the song always drew out. He turned his head away from her to focus on the neon lights across the street.

Buffy must of noticed his change in demeanor as he involuntarily distanced himself, because she gently touched his arm and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Spike said, a little too sharply. He quickly glanced at her and away again. After a little while, she tugged at his arm to take his hand out of his pocket and into hers.

“I guess Death Cab for Cutie just brings out everybody’s emo..”

“No, it’s just,… it reminds me of my parents,” He told her, surprising himself. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about his parents. Was a year enough? Was it still too new?

“What happened?”

He took a deep, shuddery breath and decided that he was ready, “Last year, my mum died. Overdose.” He focused on the worn out tops of his Doc Martins. “My dad didn’t take it well. Long story short, he drove off a bridge and killed himself. Followed her out of the world, blindly.”

She was silent for a long time, but her grip on his hand tightened until both of their knuckles were white. When she looked up at him, he saw the neon lights reflecting from those eyes, making them glow orange, green, blue, and yellow. Were those tears? He couldn’t tell for sure.

“I’m so sorry,” Buffy said, softly. He shook his head.

“No, don’t be. Wasn’t very close to them, anyways. Didn’t even live with them, actually. It’s just… I wish I did. I wish I had something else to remember them by. Hell, just a happy minute to hold on to. Seems like all I have is a stupid soddin’ song,” he said, darkly, then smiled. “Funny. I think you’re the first person I’ve told that to, love. Tragically lucky you are, yeah?”

“Tragically lucky? No. Glad you opened up? Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Spike smiled for a second, then almost laughed as he thought of the irony. How could talking about something so depressing make him want to smile? He just laid himself out for Buffy to stamp on and all he could think about was why a load had just gotten lifted from his shoulders.

He thought about his parents’ death. It was because of them that he had gone through hell itself for the past year. It was because of them that he had thrown himself into music. And if he thought about it hard enough… it was because of them that he had fallen so deeply and so hard for Drusilla. Spike scoffed at the tragic love story of his ridiculous life.

“You know, I blame them,” Spike said, referring to his deceased parents.

Buffy turned to him, puzzled, “Blame them? What’d they do?”

“Made me right crazy, they did. Haunted me for a bloody year,” He ranted, itching for a cigarette as they passed a seedy looking bar. “I screwed up school, nearly drove the band insane, made all my mates want to murder me, got involved with Drusilla, didn’t keep up wi-“

“And that’s their fault how?”

“Well, it just was!”

“Did their ghosts of Christmas past make you date Drusilla?” She sent him a pointed look that made him frown a little bit, “I didn’t think so.”

“Drusilla is – was – the one at the time,” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. He had been going through a dark time and when he met Drusilla… she became his everything. Remembering one of their sweeter moments, he impulsively mumbled, “I’d die for her…” without thinking.

“Right. You go have fun doing that,” Buffy said stiffly, letting go of his hand.

“What?” Spike looked at her with confused, furrowed brows, “What’d I say?”

“Nothing. Just declared your ever-lasting love to your ex-girlfriend, but who am I to say anything?”

………………
………………
………………

Buffy had thought that they were making progress when he was all with the ‘Oh Buffy! I never told anybody this!’ and the opening up. She even started feeling like maybe he was actually adding her to his life and letting her see the real him.

But then he had to go ruin the mood by bringing up Bitchsilla and how ‘oh em gee, she’s like totally the bloody one!’, reminding Buffy that Drusilla was always a step ahead and always in the way.

And hearing the way his voice softened when he said her name made her stomach clench and her jealousy spring to an all new high. For a second, she wondered if maybe Angel used that same tone when talking about her to Drusilla. Probably not.

Her hands felt empty without his, so she crossed them over her chest and walked a little quicker.

“What?” Spike seemed like he was truly clueless, “What’d I say?”

She glared at him, contemplating how to answer. “Nothing,” her voice was dripping with sarcasm, “Just declared your ever-lasting love to your ex-girlfriend, but who am I to say anything?”

“What are you on about, love? I didn’t…” Spike paused mid-thought before realization dawned on him. “Oh…”

“Yeah.”

Her entire body felt tingly and fired up with something that wasn’t quite anger and wasn’t quite frustration. She couldn’t help it that for some reason, she felt like she had left her guts on the sidewalk ten steps ago and the faster she walked, the more it hurt. The more distance she put between him and herself, the faster she wanted him to disappear from her life. Was it jealousy?

Yeah. Most definitely.

“I didn’t mean it that way, Buffy,” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop and turn towards him. “I was just remembering… you know, the past.”

It didn’t help the jealousy die, “Yeah, I know,” Buffy muttered. “But right now, I’m here. Here. In the present and looking towards the future. Your thing – whatever it was – with Drusilla was heavy. Is heavy. And if you can’t move on, then –“

Buffy looked into his eyes and could see the hesitancy there shining back at her. It was almost like a war playing out before her; like he was weighing out each scenario, Drusilla… future… Drusilla… life… Drusilla… moving on… Whatever battle he was fighting in his head, she really wanted to win.

“I am,” Spike sighed, rolling on his heels. “When I’m with you, I know I’m moving on. You make me want to, pet.”

She decided not to push it. Things like that took time. Everyone dove in head first when it came to knowing people like Drusilla or Angel. Getting into the big mess was always a snap of the fingers, wham, bam, thank you ma’am, but for some reason… disengaging and saying goodbye took time. Time, pain, and life.

So she decided she’d let things be for now. She’d wait, let the past die it’s slow natural death, give him time for her to grow on him, give herself time to learn to love him the proper way.

Just as she was about to offer him her hand – a reconciliation - she looked past his shoulder and saw the one and only Drusilla walking straight towards them like an arrow shooting at it’s target.

Speaking of the devil…










..............
A/N:... Ohhh... what's Spike gonna doooo? Next update can be tomorrow... can be next week. It's all played out beautifully in my head... I just need to get it down, down, down!!

*note* I'd strongly suggest downloading or just listening to the songs referenced. It gives a good background feeling to the songs and has a good play on the emotions that the characters are feeling. Plus, most of the songs are KICK ASS. *grin*

Music Reference:

“A Walk Through Hell” – Say Anything (*)
“I Fucking Hate You” – Godsmack. (**)
( ** are for your reference)

Chapter Ten

There they were, open and exposed for the entire world to see, standing stupidly in front of a 7-eleven by Times Square of all places. Buffy stared at the other female who was closing in fast, wondering if somebody up above had it in for her. Her hand was still halfway extended, frozen between her side and Spike’s hand.

And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the fluorescent lights shining through 7-eleven’s convenience-store windows were making Buffy feel plain and vulnerable against … her.

Spike twisted around to follow her gaze and visibly flinched at the sight of his ex-girlfriend. Buffy desperately searched his profile as he stared at Drusilla who was now less than a few yards away. He swallowed hard and his prominent Adam’s apple jerked up and down. The fleeting hope she had for their possible future slowly spilled to the ground and dissolved. The way he was looking at her… was it longing?

Buffy dropped her hand back to her side and took a small step away. Drusilla was standing in front of them now, her pale skin iridescent and delicate under the night’s glow, her back straight, elegant and confident. Her thick black eye-makeup was smeared and her hair was tangled and messy from whatever her night’s activities were and still, she was eerily gorgeous.

“William,” she said, an accent lacing her words. She gave Buffy a brief, fleeting glance, then turned back to Spike. What was that look? That look she was giving him… Buffy blinked and looked away.

“Dru,” he acknowledged, voice low, words slow. Buffy’s head turned sharply to him. He didn’t look her way; his eyes were fixated on his ex.

Buffy wanted to say something sharp, quip up an insult, cut one or both of them down a notch or ten, but her usual self-assurance was as present and useful as the mushed cigarette butt littered on the ground near her shoes. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t bring herself forth and hold her head up. Maybe it was that “private moment” air coming from the two ex-lovers. Maybe it was the way they were staring into each other’s eyes, saying so much yet saying nothing.

After a moment of tense silence, Drusilla spoke, “I need to talk to you.”

Spike’s head bobbed up and down ever so slightly, listening to her before she spoke, as she spoke, after she spoke. Buffy’s hands clenched into a rigid fist, hidden in the sleeves of Spike’s jacket. Spike didn’t answer right away. The vein in his temple seemed to bulge out a little and his jaw kept tightening and loosening and tightening again.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, finally. Yeah, okay, me too, Buffy thought, sarcastically, loving how her existence seemed to have evaporated before their very eyes. I’ll just stand here and be invisible. You guys go on and talk. Asshole.

Drusilla raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and lifted her chin in Buffy’s direction ever so slightly. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly, her eyes flashed ever so slightly, and with each ever-so-slightly, she conveyed a silent threat. Buffy stood up a little straighter and narrowed her eyes at the taller girl. Spike turned to Buffy as if just remembering who she was.

The expression on his face was unreadable. Or too readable. At first it said, ‘Oh you… uhh’ and then it changed to ‘Sorry about the interruption, love’ then it said, ‘Can you please excuse us..?’.

“Uh, Buffy,” he said, softly, taking a step in her direction. Buffy shook her head and held up a hand to stop him.

“I’ll be in there,” she told him, gesturing towards the unwelcoming, green, red, and orange 7-eleven sign.

“Thanks, love,” he sent her a grateful smile, then turned back to his ex-girlfriend, who stared at Buffy with an indifferent expression. As Buffy headed towards the glass door, she could have sworn she saw a slight triumphant smirk on Drusilla’s face.

Yeah, hate you too, bitch, Buffy thought bitterly, an angry symphony of guitars flooding her imaginary headphones as she stepped over the threshold into the bright, white lights of convenience.

………………
………………
………………

Spike couldn’t help but stare at Buffy as she turned away and went into the 7-eleven. He had been slipping furtive glances at her throughout the awkward encounter with Drusilla and though she probably didn’t realize it, he had caught the simmering flames in her eyes and the way she had ground her back teeth together to keep from spitting insults or growling. She probably also didn’t realize how completely beautiful she looked, silently seething and holding back fire.

He kept his eyes on her retreating back, appreciating the way she wore his jacket. Watching her also kept him occupied so he could delay the inevitable talk with Drusilla. Seeing Dru had thrown him off, made him veer off the beautiful new path he was slowly crawling on, and confused him. There was no way he could just ignore the pain that was still in his gut at the realization that his “dark beauty” wasn’t his any longer.

He had been so convinced that what they had was love and he still wasn’t exactly sure where to place his feelings for her. And looking at Drusilla, who still happened to be wearing what she knew was his favorite ensemble, would meddle with his thoughts more.

Part of him wanted to run back to her, make her see that he was what she wanted, what she needed. And another part – a part that was slowly growing with each minute in Buffy’s presence – told him that it was high time to move on.

But why was it so hard to let go? Spike closed his eyes briefly, remembering a song that he had slipped into the CD mix he had created for Drusilla months ago… ironically, it was the same mix that Buffy had accidentally played in the car on the way to Caritas. The night was just full of bloody irony, wasn’t it? He scoffed to himself, scraping the sole of his she against the sidewalk.

(*)
How did that song go? I’d walk through hell for you… he remembered and smiled, wistfully, singing it under his breath “… let it burn right through my shoes, these soles are useless without you, through hell for you, let the torturing ensue, my soul is useless without you…”

Drusilla, who was surprisingly silent for probably the first time in her life, looked at him, mystified.

“Did you say something?”

Right, Spike shook his head to himself, She never bothered listening to my mixes, had she? “Nothing. Just thinking.”

I’d walk through hell for you… But he already had walked through hell. When she had broken up with him, she put him through hell. When she had shown up and surprised him while he was onstage, he felt like she had just poked him lightly with a red-polished nail, sending him tumbling down the teetering tight-rope he was balancing himself on and straight into hell. Again.

And somewhere between the first post-breakup drink and when he had popped Buffy’s ex a good one in the nose, he had decided that she wasn’t worth hell.

“You let her wear your jacket,” Drusilla broke the silence, again. Spike turned towards her, eyebrows up.

“What’s that?”

“Your jacket,” She repeated, her voice thin and stiff. Spike turned to look inside the 7-eleven again. Buffy was standing by the magazines and looked up at the same time he had turned to look at her and their eyes met. Spike started to smile, but she immediately dropped her gaze back to whatever page she was on. The smile faded before it made it on his lips.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “She was cold.”

Drusilla’s foot started doing some insane tap-dance. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“What’s it?”

“The draft, the wind, the chill, whatever you want to call it,” She sounded annoyed. Spike opened his mouth to say sorry, then caught himself. He had nothing to apologize for.

“What’s the point in this discussion, pet?” He said slowly, changing the subject. Drusilla was not so easily swayed.

“You never let me wear your jacket,” She pouted and took a step closer to him. She was within smelling range now and he caught the scent of alcohol, sweat, smoke, and that faint expensive perfume that she loved so much. Habit told him to close the gap and take her in his arms, but he clenched his jaw and took a step back, instead.

“You never asked,” he replied, dismissively, forgetting that Buffy hadn’t asked him to wear it, either.

“So,” Drusilla started, smiling coyly up at him, “If I ask, will you let me wear it?”

Her voice had taken up a slow, seductive tone and it made his head throb. Usually, it told him to grab her and find the first dark, hidden corner in the vicinity and take her right then and there, but tonight, it just hurt.

“What are you saying, Dru,” He kept his voice hard and stood his ground. She took another step up to him and now, her hands were playing on his chest, rubbing sensuous circles over the fabric of his shirt.

He grabbed her hand and shoved her lightly back, ignoring the subtle tingly feelings he was getting. “Stop.”

“William,” She said in a low whisper, not stopping her advances, “I’m saying… I want you back.”

Yes! Yes, yes… No. He wasn’t expecting that surprise. That was his Dru, always full of surprises. Bloody hell, the pain in his head was tripling now. The part of him that was still craving for her raged up and for a few seconds, he was compelled to run back to her, throw himself back at her mercy. But he didn’t.

“Is that it, then?” He asked flatly, carefully controlling himself as to not let out a mangled cry. Drusilla frowned.

“I love you,” She said, looking up at him from under long lashes. “I need you.”

How long had he been waiting for those words? How many nights had he fantasized this moment when she came to him and told him that she couldn’t live without him? Had he ever rejected her in any of those dreams? No. He always kept himself open to her. He was an all-you-can-eat buffet when it came to her.

So why was he saying ‘no,’ now?

Spike glanced back into the 7-eleven and noticed Buffy quickly turn back to her magazine, in the same spot she was when they last looked at each other. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Thanks, Drusilla,” He pronounced her name slowly and gently pushed her away. “But no thanks. I’ve been your soddin’ Ken doll for too long and I think I’ve finally had enough.”

She looked surprised at his declaration and backed up a few steps. “Why? Because of her?” She tipped her head sharply to her left towards the convenience store.

“Buffy? She’s part of the reason, yeah,” He nodded.

Before he could think, Drusilla was on him, her lips on his, her body pressed against his, her hands through his hair. His first reaction was to hold her tight and marvel at the feel of her lips on his, but after the initial shock passed, his head cleared up enough to push her forcibly away.

“Does she make you feel this way? Huh, William?” Drusilla panted, still trying to cling onto him. Spike squeezed his eyes shut, trying to compose himself. It wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. Her lips on his seemed too cold. Too foreign. He wasn’t used to it anymore and it made him cringe. He fought the urge to spit and wipe his mouth.

“No,” He kept her at arm’s length. Drusilla’s eyes glistened in victory for a few moments until he continued, “She makes me feel better. Leave me alone, Dru.”

She stopped grabbing at him and stared, shocked. It seemed to take several moments for that thought to settle in her head. Finally, she straightened, smoothed out her short skirt, and stepped back.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret,” She paused, wanting him to give in to her. When he didn’t, she said, “I want you tonight, yes. And I might want you tomorrow. But watch it, William, if you wait too long, I might be gone forever.”

She was giving him a choice and all he could do was shake his head. “It’s over,” he turned away from her as if the sight of her made him ill.

It wasn’t until he heard her heels click away when he took a deep breath and walked into the convenience store where his bright possibility of a future was waiting for him.

………………
………………
………………

Buffy was seething as she stepped into the store, feeling as if she had just been blatantly dismissed. What am I? her mind snarled, a disposable substitute?. Her jealousy was mounting, although she really didn’t have the right to be possessive about him. It wasn’t like she could lay any claim on Spike.

Not like Drusilla could.

What are they talking about?

She tried not to look out the window at them and instead, headed for the magazine rack and picked up the latest Cosmopolitan. As she flipped through the first few pages impatiently, the knot in her stomach just tightened some more. Her inner auditorium was practically shaking from the rage of the angry guitars and drums clashing in her head.

(**)
For everything you do
Id like to swallow you
And everyday I’m gonna blame you

Her resolve broke down and she couldn’t help but glance up to see what they were doing out there. Barely talking. Okay. Spike looked towards her suddenly and she immediately looked back down to the magazine at hand. She took a deep breath and tried to mellow the angry Godsmack song raging in her head. It almost worked.

Buffy couldn’t even focus on the words in front of her, so she half-heartedly looked over the pictures. Every woman she saw resembled Drusilla and it made her feel sick. What was so special about her anyways? Besides the fact that she practically reeked of dark, morbid sensuality which seemed to draw men right to her like flies to a light bulb.

She felt a chill inside the fluorescently lit store, despite the jacket Spike had given her. Looking at the worn out black leather, she remembered the leather duster that she had bought Angel for Christmas last year. It was something that he had been pining his heart out for forever and when she had surprised him with it in a big, Saks Fifth gift box, she had decided that the look on his face as he pulled the coat out was worth every one of the four hundred dollars she had spent.

Angel wore the duster every single day and not once had he offered it to her. He never noticed when she was shivering or cold or rubbing her arms to generate heat and he never let her touch it.

Shaking her head, Buffy tried to erase Angel from her thoughts. She smiled wryly at her jacket sleeve and tried to imagine what Spike would look like in a black, leather duster. Oh wow… she nearly swooned at the picture her head conjured up.

Buffy looked through the window again and almost wished she hadn’t. Drusilla was completely pressed against Spike and he didn’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.

She spun around and shut her eyes, the livid guitars and drums springing back up in full force. Everybody knows your fate / Youre everything I fucking hate.

Why was her eyes watering? Why was her head spinning so fast? Why did the thought of them affect her so much?

Dont ever look my way / Dont even think Im playin / cause I fucking hate you.

The magazine crumpled up in her hand and a woman across the aisle threw her an I’m-concerned-about-your-sanity glance before going back to her shopping.

After a few deep breaths, the hate song in her head grew louder than ever, making her feel nauseous. She moved to put the magazine back on it’s rack and just so happened to look out the window again.

And see them kissing.

The magazine dropped from her hands and she fled to the other side of the store.

God, why did it hurt? She didn’t even know this guy for half a day! Why was she feeling like he had just betrayed her? Had he betrayed her? Were they together? Did anything mean anything?

The wheels in her mind were spinning at record speed. Of course he was going to go back to her! Six months is forever compared to six hours. Not even six hours! How long had it been?

Buffy yanked back the sleeve of Spike’s jacket and stared down at the watch. It was a little past midnight. Great. She patted down the pockets of her jeans and felt the fabric rub against the hard flatness of her razor thin cell phone in her right back pocket and a fifty-dollar bill in the left.

So Spike and Dru were back together. How cute. Now how was she going to get home? Taxi, subway, call Mom…

She suddenly didn’t care. All she wanted to do was leave, so she hastily patted her eye, wiping off salty tears mixed in with mascara, sniffed a little, then headed straight for the door.

Ignore them, hail a taxi, get in, go wherever from there… , she recited to herself. Simple enough.

“Buffy!”

She stopped dead in her tracks, two steps away from the door. Spike was slowly jogging towards her from the magazine racks. What was he doing there?

“Hey,” He smiled when he reached her. Buffy tried to stop her heart from melting at his voice and backed up a little bit.

“Hi,” She returned, evenly. His eyes bore into hers and she looked to the floor, but he stopped her with two fingers under her chin.

“Hey, you have green eyes.”

“Uh, yeah,” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say to that and moved her head away from his cold fingers, making him drop his hand back to his side.

“So,” He rocked forward on his feet, then back again, “We’re done talking.”

Obviously.

“Oh really,” She forced nonchalance, “How did that go?”

“It went well,” Spike tilted his head and scrunched up his eyebrows a little bit, “She told me she wanted me back.”

It took everything she had to keep from breaking, so she just nodded for a few moments before she could talk. “So, I guess you have to make a choice.”

“Yeah,” Spike said in a low voice. He sounded almost sad. “I decided I’d –“

Buffy stopped him by pulling his head towards hers and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. She didn’t think she could take an actual rejection from him. Not from him. Why are his lips so warm? Why are they so soft? she thought, sadly, before pulling away and keeping one hand lightly on his cheekbones. The image of Drusilla pressed intimately against his rock-solid body scorched through her mind.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, then walked backwards out of the 7-eleven. Spike stared at her, frozen. “I understand.”

With that, she ran outside and flagged down a taxi.



A/N: That's the last of Dru. I know a lot of you were hoping she would get her guts punched out, and as much fun as that would be to write, it wasn't how I planned the scene to go and it wouldn't really fit the story in the overall scheme of things. This was supposed to be the major turning point for Spike, when he realizes that she's NOT the one that he needs. He leaves her of his own choice when she's willing to let him back. It's a big deal. Really!

And as always... Buffy misinterprets things and lets jealousy and little petty fears get in her way. Will Spike run after her? Or let her run away. Hmm... you'll see in the next chapter.

So, if you read the summary, this is basically the end of whatever 'angst' there might be. It's a temporary lapse and it's necessary to make the next few scenes absolutely amazing. Promise!

Thanks for everyone who's sticking with me! You guys are AWESOME.

Again, I highly recommend listening and or downloading these songs.

Music Reference:

“Wake up” – Coheed and Cambria. (*)
“The City Lights” – Umbrellas. (**)
“Damn Regret” – The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. (***)

( ** are meant for your reference)


Chapter Eleven

Spike couldn’t quite remember how to move. He didn’t even completely register that Buffy wasn’t standing in front of him anymore. What the hell happened? Bewildered, he quickly went through every word he had said to her after he had spoken to Drusilla up to the point where she had run out.

Nothing in particular came up. Did he say something?

Suddenly, a stranger bumped into him, snapping him back to reality. Buffy had left him in the middle of the store without so much as a goodbye. There was only one thing he could do at this point.

“Sorry,” the stranger mumbled, but Spike was already sprinting for the door. The cool night air of the city blasted him in the face as he swung the door open with too much force and skidded to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

It was such a beautiful night and he looked up at the sky for a split second, wondering if the tiny speck of white amidst the black blue sky was a star. Spike didn’t wait to give himself enough time to ponder that thought. He squinted his eyes and swiftly scanned the people-infested sidewalk and the busy street for a flash of her blonde hair.

There she was, a dozen yards down the street, getting into a yellow taxicab. Frantically, he started running towards her, but she had already slammed the door shut and the taxi was rolling away.

“Buffy!” He shouted, pushing people out of the way trying to get to her. “Buffy! Stop!”

But it wasn’t any use. The cab had pulled back into traffic and was quickly speeding out of sight. Spike slowed down and finally stopped, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, feeling like the wind was just violently knocked out of him. Whether or not the feeling was because he had one too many cigarettes to smoke, he wasn’t certain.

But, something else also seemed to be knocked out of him as he stared off after the taxi that she was riding in. Stomach dropping and heart breaking, he looked back up at the sky.

It wasn’t a star. It was just an airplane.

………………
………………
………………

Buffy only let the tears fall down when she was safely tucked away in the backseat of the taxi. I was supposed to show him a good time, she sniffed, looking out of the window at the tall buildings next to her.

“Where going, miss?” the driver’s heavy Indian accent asked her. She wiped her eyes on her jacket-sleeve and tried to think of a destination. Any destination.

“Just… drive,” she mumbled. She didn’t want to go home, because if she did, she’d be forced to wallow in her misery.

“Drive where?” he persisted, tapping his thumbs against the wheels. She saw his eyes flutter up to the rear-view mirror before he added, “Is that your boyfr-“

“No, just drive!”

The sharpness in her voice must have shocked him into action as he jerked his wheel to the left, veering back into traffic. She could have sworn she heard him mutter “Your money, lady,” under his breath, but decided to ignored it.

The cab was warm, but she didn’t want to take the jacket off. It still smelled like him and though that made her want to sob all over the black leather seats, it also comforted her. Buffy wistfully gazed outside at people on the sidewalks that they were zooming past. Couples were holding hands, walking together, laughing together. She sighed and squeezed her hands together, already missing the feeling of his hand in hers. He had held her with a sort of loose grasp, yet it was tight enough to communicate “whatever you do, don’t let go.”

Except he was probably holding Drusilla’s hand by now. The thought of that made her face darken immensely. She winced as she listened to the cheerful Indian music coming from the front. It was starting to bother her.

“I need destination, miss,” the driver asked again, exasperated.

Buffy snapped, “Shut up and let me think.”

The rear-view mirror showed his face crunching up in an annoyed glare. “Look, I drive you, I have job. You tell me where I go!”

“My money, right?” Her head was starting to hurt. Without thinking, she said, “Little Italy. And change the music, it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Without answering her, he flipped his turn signal and swerved to the right, making Buffy tumble across the backseat. The pain in her arm as she hit the door made her feel like crying all over again.

So did the music that came on when he turned the radio dial.

(*)
I'm going to ride this plane out of your life again
I wish that I could stay, but you argue
more than this, I wish you could have seen my face
in backseats staring out of the window

Usually, Coheed and Cambria made her smile. But today, hearing Sanchez sing this ballad made her tremble and the tears fell all over again. Hard, raw sobs shook her body and the sound of her crying almost overpowered the song, itself.

“Sorry,” the cab-driver said, misinterpreting the reason for her distress. “I drive slower, yes?”

“No… It -It’s not you,” she choked and buried her face the jacket that she never returned. “I just…”

The taxi slowed down a little bit and if she had looked up into the rear-view mirror, she would have met the sympathetic eyes of her driver. He leaned forward and dug out a box of Kleenex, passing it through the divider to her.

Surprised, Buffy accepted it and blew her nose.

“Is it your man?” he asked her and she just sniffled, looking back out the window, trying to ignore the heart-wrenching song.

I'll do anything for you
kill anyone for you
so leave yourself intact,
because I will be coming back
in the phrase to cut these lips:
I love you

She couldn’t help thinking about Spike and wishing that he had run after her. Everything seemed so imbalanced without him. Everything seemed so cold. He affected her more than anybody ever had… and she had only spent a few hours with him. How was that possible?

“My eldest daughter, she much like you,” the driver started and for the first time, Buffy noticed his weathered face and tired features as he focused on the road. “Every night seem like I see her cry. She always call me in middle of my rounds, she tell me I have to pick her up. I say ‘okay, aap kahan ho? Where are you?’. I ask her why she want to go and she say ‘Chale joe! Go away!’”

Buffy cracked a smile as he spoke.

“You little girls! Don’t understand see pyar when it stare you straight in the eyeballs. You always run! He do anything wrong, you say ‘mein use kabhi muaf nahii karuungaa’ and turn around. How will you ever find love that way, huh?” his voice had grown louder and louder throughout his speech and Buffy found herself entranced with his seemingly wise accent and his wildly gesturing hands. He shook his head, “That boy on sidewalk back there… he was yours, was he not?”

“Who?” Buffy furrowed her eyebrows, confused.

“You not see? The lost boy with white hair calling out something like ‘Bully! Bully!’?”

His words finally dawned on her and she sat up straight. Spike went after me? She wasn’t sure if she was understanding correctly.

“He look at you with the love in his eye,” her driver looked at her from the rear-view. “I can tell. I’ve seen it many time.”

The rest of the ride was made in a comfortable silence until Buffy got out at Mott Street, deeply pondering the Indian man’s words.

………………
………………
………………

Spike was sitting on the curb, thinking about everything and thinking about nothing. When he had given up trying to figure out ways to reach her, he had sat down, stared at the looming city in front of him, and wrote her a song.

His voice was low as he formed words in his head and sang them out loud, “It’s Friday night and I’m sitting here, waiting for a girl named Buffy. Thought I could love her, thought I could crack her, but boy, this girl’s a tough-y.”

When that didn’t work out, he leaned against the newspaper dispenser and sighed, trying to pinpoint the exact point in time when his night had done a 180. When she kissed you…

He smiled as he remembered the pleasant way she had introduced herself. Pleasant and… wicked, hot, alluring, smothering in a suffocate-me-any-time-you’d-like way, steamy, heart tickling, the list went on. That was when his night had done a complete turn. If she hadn’t kissed him, he would probably have gotten pissed as hell and done something stupid or gone home, alone and moping.

But he had ended up going for an adventure that felt like interestingly similar to a roller-coaster.

So how had he ended up like this… Slouched down at a curb in the middle of 42nd, tired and miserable? He couldn’t pinpoint a reason. Had he said something? Did he smell? Was she afraid of Drusilla? He didn’t even know why this was happening.

Again, he thought up a new scenario.

He would find her, run up to her, kiss her until she couldn’t move her mouth, and things would take off wonderfully from there.

Oh yeah. Except for the part where he had no clue where she was, no idea how to get a hold of her, nothing.

An ambiguous looking car pulled to the side of the road in front of him and Spike looked up, raising a tired eyebrow. At this point, he wouldn’t have cared if somebody mugged him to death or dragged him off to brutally maim and kill. He was so tired of everything…

“Dude, Spike!” Devon’s head popped out through the passenger seat window. “You lost, man?”

“Yeah,” Spike muttered, getting to his feet. “You could put it that way.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? It’s Midtown, man. Boring as shit!” his friend grinned at him and held out a bottle of liquor. “I hear there’s a crazy scene down by Soho, you game?”

“As ever.”

Spike shrugged and got into the back seat.

………

Five minutes into the ride, he was wondering what evil had possessed him to go with Devon. Nothing good ever came out of going somewhere with Devon. And now, he was stuck in the back, listening to him and a few other guys crack drunken jokes and cackling like mad hyenas. Bloody brilliant.

Closing his eyes, he drowned out their voices and focused on the music. Always focus on the music. Music overpowered everything. After all, it was the best remedy.

(**)
If you see me at midnight
Walking the streets
You'll know it was me for I cannot sleep
I've pushed away the dreams
And spoiled the quiet
I'm propelled by fear
And not the righteous

He imagined he was walking alone somewhere. A sidewalk, a harbor, the seaport. It put him at peace and he nearly smiled at the appropriateness.

So have you been to a place like this?
To see your breath as it paints against the sky
The fever is near
I wish you were here

His music was cut off suddenly as the boys cranked up some rap garbage and exploded into shouts and laughter.

What he would give to be with Buffy right now.

………

It didn’t hit him until he was standing alone on Canal Street, having ditched his mates telling them he had to go buy some smokes. He was patting down his pockets, looking for money, when he remembered that he didn’t have his leather jacket.

Buffy had it.

And he vaguely remembered that in that particular jacket, there had once been a cell phone.

A little dazed and unsure, he walked up to a phone booth and dialed.

It rang once and his heart started pounding. It rang twice and his closed eyes were seeing the red pumping of blood in his eyelids. It rang three times and he heard a click…

“Uh… Spike’s unreachable right now due to reasons I will not go into, do you need something?”

God, it was her voice. Her husky, it’s-late-at-night-and-I’ve-been-having-fun voice that he had started to train his ears to very early in the night. Spike found himself grinning uncontrollably.

“Buffy?”

There was a short silence.

“Spike?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he slowly let out a breath and chuckled. “You took off.”

“Yeah, well,” her voice trailed off and he waited. “I thought you were going to get back with Drusilla, you know? I didn’t want to get in the way.”

His head spun. “You thought what?”

“That you were –“

“Can you be any more daft?” he felt like shouting. She put him through all that because she thought he’d be getting back together with Drusilla? Was she insane?

She didn’t respond, so he softened his tone before continuing. “You know when you told me that I had to make a choice?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice weak. Spike could almost see her biting her lower lip and lowering those green eyes to the floor, like she did whenever she was uncertain.

“Well, I did. Where are you, Buffy?”

“You… what?”

“Where are you?”

“Um. At The Espresso Pump on Mott street.”

Spike grinned, “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

“Wait – What was your deci-“

He hung up on her before she could finish her sentence and was sprinting down Canal St. towards Mott, his feet running to the beat in his head.

(***)
The moon is shining bright,
The mood is feeling right.
I’ll kiss you on your neck,
People’ll stare but we won’t care.
We’re high above the ground,
We’re nowhere to be found.




A/N: The next chapter's gonna be fun, fun, fun!
(I foresee... 3-4 more chapters before this story wraps up. I'm contemplating whether or not to do a sequel, but chances of that are pretty slim as I'm pretty set on finishing my other WIP's)

A/N: Though I’d love to have thought up that cell-phone scene at the end of the last chapter… I can’t take credit for it. The conversation and basis for conversation was my own, but the actual idea of him calling his own cell phone in hopes of reaching her was from the book. Props to David Levithlan.


Music Referenced:

“Love me Two Times” – The Doors (*)
“Hot Pursuit” – The Bravery (**)

(** are for your reference)



Chapter Twelve

That jerk, Buffy thought, unable to conceal her smile as she stared at the cardboard coffee cup in front of her. Slowly, she put his cell phone down on the table next to her cup, wondering if she had really just heard his voice seconds ago. She shivered as she replayed the conversation in her head. That move he pulled? Totally hot. She mentally added a bazillion irrevocable cool points to his name.

Before he pulled that stunt, she had been ready to call it a night; drink a cappuccino, eat a small cheesecake, and give her mother’s limo service a ring. It was hard to believe that she had actually been eager to crawl into bed and drown the world out until the next day when everything would hopefully have been infinitely clearer.

But now that she had heard his deep, throaty voice millimeters from her ear, her heart rate had increased and her body miraculously energized itself. How amazing… she twirled her stirrer around in the coffee, thoughtfully. Sleeping was the furthest thing on her mind now.

Buffy twisted her watch around on her wrist to read the time. 1:18 am. He had seven more minutes to go. Her fingers tapped impatiently across the table and looked nervously around the coffeehouse.

The man behind the bar was busily wiping down mugs and plates and occasionally glanced up at the clock by the door, probably counting down the seconds until his shift ended. There were a few older businessmen scattered around the counter reading newspapers, their coffee left untouched in front of them. Besides herself, only two other people sat at the booths. Their noses were both buried in something; a textbook, a magazine, a novel… Buffy couldn’t tell.

After some silent observation, she noticed that every single person with her in The Espresso Pump was either moving his head or tapping her foot to the background music that she recognized as a song from The Doors.

(*)
Love me two time, baby, love me twice today
Love me two time, girl, I'm goin' away
Love me two time girl, one for tomorrow,
One just for today
Love me two times
I'm goin' away

She stuck the coffee stirrer in her mouth to play with and propped her chin up with her hands, thinking about how amazing it was that music connected everybody in the world. It was the universal bond that kept every single person together. How adequate.

Just in time, the bells to the front of the coffee shop jingled and she froze, the stirrer clenched between her teeth stopping mid-swing.

………………
………………
………………

(**)
You’ve got nowhere to run
You’ve got nowhere to hide
I think you won’t escape this time
You can’t run far enough
You can’t run fast enough
You can’t outrun my love

“Hot Pursuit” was playing on repeat in his head as he turned the corner from Canal Street to Mott. Spike could hardly breathe, but he willed his legs to keep running. There was no time to lose and his heart rate soared up exponentially as he anticipated the very millisecond he would see her face again.

The possibility of falling down dead from exhaustion vaguely registered and he thought, Hell, I’m gonna have a bloody heart condition. But nonetheless, he kept going, weaving through walking people, rushing past street vendors closing up shop, his adrenaline the only thing keeping his feet moving.

Hot Pursuit
I’m coming for you
Hot Pursuit
I’m gaining on you
You’re moving fast
But you’ll never outlast me
Hot Hot Hot Pursuit

He had to give it to The Bravery, their words made him more determined to get to her and forced his legs to go even faster. Spike was never much of a runner. In fact, he despised running. Every once in a while, Oz and Devon would pester him into going jogging with them and he would relent, grumbling, complaining, and lagging behind the entire time.

Yeah, he went to the gym from time to time. When nobody important was around, he even sneaked onto the bicycle for a few minutes here and there. But for some reason, the thought of bitingly chilly air rushing into the lungs and making them feel like he was getting the wind knocked out of him just didn’t strike his fancy.

Yet here he was, beating the bloody world record for this girl. And she thought he wanted to get back with Drusilla. Stupid, sodding bint, he growled to himself.

When Spike saw the sign for The Espresso Pump, he practically collapsed in relief, eager to give his sore lungs and legs a rest.

Finally.

From outside, he caught sight of his jacket and her blonde hair twisted up in that loose bun that – for some magical reason – always seemed to be perfectly messy. This was it. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

Her shoulders visibly tense up when the door jingled the bells. Not giving himself enough time to come up with a dramatic entrance, Spike strode up to her and sat himself down at the booth across her.

It took a few moments for him to completely take her in. Her sparkly green eyes were wide, her elbows were on the table holding up her chin, and there was a red coffee stirrer dangling from her mouth.

“Hello, cutie,” he said, casually, reaching for the fork in front of her and helping himself to a large chunk of her untouched cheesecake.

The stirrer toppled to the table.

………………
………………
………………

Immediately after the surprise of seeing him, solid and as real as ever, went away, she quickly moved the dirty stirrer to the side. She was embarrassed. There he was in front of her, his cheeks tinted a very faint shade of pink, his platinum hair loose and slightly curling, his shirt a little wrinkled, looking as completely gorgeous as ever and all she could do was stare.

As he happily had his way with her food, she mentally fretted over the state of her face. Shit! She inwardly groaned. Her makeup wasn’t fresh and it wasn’t off. In fact, most of her eye-makeup was probably smudged a mile below her actual eye. When she had walked into the coffeehouse, the first thing she had done was gone into the bathroom to splash water over her face. It never occurred to her to clean up or anything until now. And how could she? With him giving her a curious look from across the table.

She frowned when she noticed his heavy breathing, “Did you run all the way here?”

“No. I flew,” Spike answered with his mouth full. After he swallowed, he rolled his eyes and said, “Of course I was running!”

“Oh.”

“And you bloody well better appreciate it,” he jabbed the fork at her before burying it into the cheesecake again. “I hate running.”

“Really? I love it,” Buffy took her elbows off the table and leaned back, relaxing. “It makes me feel really good.”

“Oh yeah? Well, it makes me feel like crap. I must be crazy, running all the way here for a measly slice of cheesecake.”

She heard the joking tone in his voice and smiled a little, “What? I’m not worth it?”

“Only a crazy bloke would put up with you, stunt like that you pulled. Running away without a good and proper reason,” he was trying to glare at her but his face betrayed him into grinning.

“Oh, so you’re crazy?”

“Precisely.”

Spike held up the fork to her and offered her a bite, “Want some? It’s good.” Buffy almost laughed at the way he was offering her the food she had bought with her own money. She shook her head.

“No thanks. Over the phone, you talked about some kind of decision,” she said a little nervously. She needed to hear the words from him; the words that would tell her that he chose her. He had to have chosen her, right? Him being here and all that.

“I did,” he answered simply, prolonging her distress.

“And…”

“Oh, are you even serious? Do you really have to ask?”

“Yes!” Buffy glared, crossing her arms across her chest. “I want to hear you say it.”

Spike sighed, warily, and shook his head. “Bloody stubborn bint…” he muttered, making her protest.

“Hey!”

“Well, it’s true! You know exactly what decision I made and yet you have to ask me.”

Buffy was silent for a moment, then slowly, her bottom lip jutted out and she pouted. Spike narrowed his eyes and stared at her lips before giving in. “Okay, okay,” he put down his fork and sat forward. “I decided that Drusilla wasn’t who I wanted.”

“And who do you want?” Buffy prompted him. He huffed a little and she pouted some more.

“Bloody hell, woman. I want you, okay?”

She couldn’t help the giddy smile from spreading when she heard those words. Oh yeah. Gotta make him say that more often… Spike’s face softened and he reached across the table to tweak her chin.

“Is it that hard to believe?” he asked her.

Buffy bit her lower lip and shrugged, “A little. I mean, you’ve been with her for a long time and you’ve known me for… not such a long time. I thought it’d only be natural that you’d take her back…”

Spike thought about that for a moment, then asked, “So, if Angel walked in here this moment and asked you to go home with him, would you say yes?”

“What? Of course not!”

“See my point?” He raised an I-told-you-so eyebrow and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess I do,” she admitted, “I was pretty stupid, wasn’t I?”

“Damn right, you were.”

“But…” she paused, trying to figure out how to word what was on her mind, “Back when we were at the club… you looked like you still haven’t gotten over her. What makes you want me all of a sudden?”

“First off, it wasn’t an all-of-a-sudden deal, love,” Spike said, sliding his arm across the table to take her hand in his. “I’ve been talking to you all night and every minute I spend with you makes me want to spend another ten. I’d be stupid not to want you, really.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, kitten, really,” he told her and she smiled, shyly. “Come on. You’re funny, beautiful, you’ve got these quirky little habits like scrunching up your nose and putting all sorts of foreign objects in your mouth – Ow!”

He glared at her when she slapped his hand. Buffy turned red and looked away, “Stop it. You’re making me blush.”

“I quite like making you blush,” he sounded proud, then added, “I even wrote you a song.”

A song? How long had she wanted a guy to write her a song? Buffy perked up and sat straight. “Really? Let me hear it,” she urged him, shaking his hand playfully.

He hesitated, then refused her, “No, you’ll run away.”

“No, I wont!”

“I can’t be sure of that,” he said. Buffy tried pouting but he shook his finger at her. “None of that. You’ve already run away once.”

“Different circumstance!” Buffy waved, dismissing it. There was no way in hell that she wasn’t going to hear this song.

“Same fear,” he countered.

Buffy scrunched up her eyebrows, confused, “Fear?”

“You. Running,” he tapped her hand two times with his thumb as he said the words.

“Why would I run from your song?”

Spike didn’t answer right away and instead, stared at the their joined hands as they seemed to flirt with each other of their own accord. His hands moved to intertwine their fingers, her hands squeezed and flipped the hands around, his fingers caressed hers gently, she undid the tangle and laid his flat on the table, drawing circles on his palm. “Don’t rightly know,” he said, slowly. “Might scare you.”

She smiled and traced a heart on his palm then stuck an arrow through it. “It takes a lot to scare me.”

He was silent for a moment, then he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “We have plenty of time for you to hear the song later, pet.”

The tingles in her fingers spread down her arm and warmed her body. “Are you making excuses?” she asked, smiling.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

She pouted and he leaned across the table to kiss her gently on the lips. This time, she felt the tingles from her heart. He pulled away a fraction of an inch and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So, we’re good now?” she asked, softly.

He quirked a suggestive eyebrow at her and smirked, “Better than good, I’d say.”

“Oh, shut up,” she smacked him lightly and he pulled her back for another kiss.

………………
………………
………………

Her lips were so soft and he was so hungry for her that it took more effort from his part than what should have been necessary to pull away and sit back down. It also didn’t help that she was looking at him with those kiss-me-you-know-you-wanna eyes.

And boy, did he want to.

She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. How could he not? When she smiled, her eyes sparkled and her entire face lit up. It was dangerously contagious.

“Tell me, love,” he spoke after a moment of staring into her green eyes. Green like emeralds, jade, leaves of maple trees in the summer, gems… he was tempted to let himself get sidetracked into her eyes but he continued, “Why’d you run away? Why didn’t you just wait for me to explain?”

She lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip before answering him. He chuckled when she wrinkled her nose and pushed the room-temperature coffee away from her in disgust. When she finally answered him, it was slowly and deliberately, as if she was seriously pondering her answer. “Tired of rejection, I guess.”

Her answer surprised him. Who in their right minds would reject her? She was incredible!

“Love, only a crazy bloke would reject you.”

She laughed at him and teased, “Hm. I thought you said only a ‘crazy bloke’ would put up with me.”

“Two completely different types of crazy, princess,” he grinned.

“Oh. I see.”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the edge of the table separating them. “Yes, it’s not even comparable.”

“You’re not even making sense!” she exclaimed.

“I’m making perfect sense,” he said reasonably, “The nutter who rejected you is a quitter. That, and he’s obviously blind, deaf, and dull as a table lamp. Whereas, the nutter who puts up with you is crazy for you, you see?”

“Ooh, I wonder who that might be,” she teased him.

“Well, let’s see,” he decided to play along, “He’s talented, he’s funny, you have the hots for him…”

“Oh! J.J. from the Power’s in the Pistol?”

He blinked at her, then sent her a small glare, “Very funny, love.” How did she do that to him? He crossed his arms across his chest.

“Just kidding, baby,” she reached out and tugged on an arm until it came loose. Spike couldn’t believe how he became a pliable doll in her hands. “But it was funny.”

“Yeah. A riot.” He tried to be indifferent, but was failing miserably. Her epidemic of a smile was getting to him and he felt the corners of his lips being tugged up by some unexplainable, invisible force.

Buffy regarded him for a bit, then decided, “I like it when you squirm.”

“Oy! Who’s squirming?”

“You, dummy.”

“Who’re you calling dummy?” He couldn’t help himself as he swiftly moved over to her side of the booth and tickled her.

“Ahh! Stop it!” her uncontrollable laughter mounted and she writhed under his wriggling fingers.

“Yeah, who’s squirming now, huh, kitten?” He taunted her, not letting up with the tickling. Suddenly, she pressed herself to him and assailed him with her lips.

That’s one way to do it, he groaned as his fingers went slack and his arms moved to circle her waist. It was then that he came to the conclusion that she was, quite possibly, the best kisser in the world.

The heat rose a great deal as he felt her tongue gliding against his and heard her moan into his mouth. She took his lower lip between her teeth and gently pulled, bringing forth a low growl from the back of his throat. Fuck, she was so sexy...

“Mmm,” she kissed her way to his ear and whispered, “That is so hot.”

He pushed her up against the wall end of the booth and kissed the words right from her lips. “Hot, huh?” he purred into her mouth, making her whimper and pull at his shoulders. He growled into her ear again and she giggled softly before pulling his head back so she could kiss him again.

“The owner’s giving us a look,” she said, breathlessly, “let’s get out of here.”

Spike turned his head and indeed, the man behind the counter looked like he was about to kick them out of the coffeehouse.

“Yeah, lets.”



AN: There's officially two more chapters after this. They're both drafted and almost ready. I really, really hope you guys have enjoyed this so far and stick with me until the very end. You wont be disappointed!! At least... I hope not!