YOU NEVER CAN TELL
Chapter 5: ‘Love Me Tender’
Spike and Buffy sat, together, in the booth at the French restaurant that he had chosen for their date. He hoped it would impress Buffy, enough, that is, but more then that? The blond teen male had wanted to impress Buffy’s father and stepmother.
He was not a fool, Spike wasn’t, and he knew that he was not the boyfriend material that Hank Summers would pick for his darling daughter. So, when he had arrived at the Summers home, to pick Buffy up and meet her parents, officially, Spike made sure he had everything just right.
In his right hand, there was a bouquette of spring flowers for Mrs. Summers, in his left, a dozen pink roses for Buffy. Spike had even forgone his beloved leather jacket, left it at home and wore a nice, blue button down shirt with decent pants for once. No blue jeans, no leather jacket, no boots, not tonight. This night was about pleasing Buffy, and her folks, if need be.
Spike felt like a complete idiot, decked out like a Crawford instead of like himself, but he did it anyway. At this point, Spike Giles would do anything for Buffy Summers, even dress like a normal guy, or jock for that matter.
Buffy had answered the door, dressed in a simple, but kind of elegant little dress. It had thin straps and was a dark shade of pink, Buffy’s color, Spike realized with a smile.
“You look gorgeous, luv,” Spike had whispered in awe of his little Princess. “Like a movie star, in fact and…”
“Oh, please,” Buffy groaned softly, but smiled anyway, “no movie star compliments. Not from you Spike, but thanks anyway,” she giggled and motioned him into her nice, but not overwhelming home.
“Dad, Joyce,” Buffy had shown him into the living room where Hank and Joyce Summers were waiting to speak with him. “You remember Spike Giles, from the company bar-b-que last summer?”
“Mr. Summers,” Spike made sure to shake the older man’s hand with a firm, manly like grip. He was pleased when Buffy’s father gripped his hand back, firmly, and smiled at him.
“Hello, uhm, Spike?” Hank stammered, sizing up the young man, carefully.
“It’s William, actually, Mr. Summers,” Spike blushed briefly and glanced at Buffy, embarrassed about his given name.
“Good solid name, son,” Hank replied, amicably enough, putting both Spike and Buffy at ease immediately. “This is my wife, Joyce and here’s Dawnie.” Hank smiled at his ten-year-old stepdaughter as she scurried down the stairs and bounded into the living room.
“Hey Spike,” Dawn grinned at him, then giggled at Buffy. “My sister really likes you, did you know that? In fact, you’re the reason that she wore her hair down last night to that stupid party. I told her that…”
“Dawn, that’s enough,” Joyce hissed, lovingly at her daughter the dynamo.
“Thank’s Dawnie,” Buffy groaned softly with a grimmace and a roll of her eyes.
“Any time,” Dawn giggled and waved at Spike. “Have fun kids,” the girl called as she turned and rushed into the kitchen.
“Nice to meet you Dawn,” Spike called out to the young girl, but smirked at Buffy.
“Well,” Buffy sighed, still red with embarrassment, “that was just dandy.”
After Spike had given Buffy her roses and Joyce her bouquette, Buffy suggested that they head out, but Hank had had other ideas.
For at least thirty minutes, Hank slyly grilled poor Spike about everything. From his academic records to his goals for the future.
Buffy was inwardly seething about this, but she held her tongue and just kept shooting reassuring smiles at Spike.
Spike, to his credit, took everything in stride and answered all of Hank’s probing inquiries. Buffy was so proud of Spike, so very proud of the way the cutie kept his cool, behaved like a real gentleman.
“The kids probably have to be going, Hank,” Joyce finally broke into her husband’s endless stream of questions and conversation.
“We do have a reservation,” Buffy answered eagerly, relieved to have an excuse to leave her house and truly start the date.
“I’ll be home, by 11:00 PM, on the dot,” Buffy stated and hugged her Dad, and Joyce, warmly.
Now, Spike and Buffy were nearly finished with their wonderful dinner and were debating about what to do next. Spike wanted to take Buffy to the movies, but Sunnydale only had one picture show and it was playing the new war movie ‘The Great Escape’ and he figured…
“I’d love to see that movie!” Buffy squealed, genuinely excited by the idea. “I’ve got a little secret,” she whispered shyly, “I have a crush on James Garner and Steve McQueen.” She blushed brightly and looked at her empty dinner plate, quickly to avoid Spike’s merry blue eyes.
“Should I be jealous?” he asked, in a half joking tone.
“Yeah, right,” Buffy giggled merrily, “like I’m ever going to Hollywood and actually meeting Steve and James, huh?”
Spike chuckled and hugged her tightly. “You sure you wanna’ see a guy movie?” he asked, a little worried that he might mess this up, completely.
“Yup,” Buffy nodded, “and by the time it’s over? It’ll be almost my curfew so it will be perfect. Is that okay? Or would you rather, well, you know…”
Spike knew exactly what Buffy was thinking. She was wondering if he really just wanted to head out to the ocean and Lover’s Lane that overlooked it. Well, of course, he did, he was a bloke after all and Buffy was his dream girl, but he didn’t want her to think that’s all he wanted from her.
“Let’s see the movie, sweetheart,” he offered gently, “that way I can hold your hand, in the dark. And, Buffy,” he added, “I’m happy to just be with you, together and spend time together. In all ways, you understand?”
Buffy felt her heart skip a beat as he gazed into her green eyes with those honest blue ones of his. She appreciated Spike’s sincerity and loved the idea that he wasn’t ‘with’ her for just one thing.
‘So unlike Angel, and so many boys,’ she thought warmly.
“Okay,” she whispered, softly, “lets go watch Steve, James and the Allies take on the Nazis.”
The couple left the restaurant, laughing together and hand in hand. They drove the few miles to the Sunnydale Cinema and after buying popcorn and sodas, found their seats in the back of the theater.
All through the movie, Buffy alternated between burying her head on Spike’s shoulder and watching, wide-eyed as the heros of the movie tried to escape from their captors.
Spike held Buffy tightly, with his left arm, and tried not to put too much pressure on Buffy’s left boob with his hand. Although, he noticed, his ‘girl’ didn’t seem to reluctant to have his hand there.
About half way through the movie, Spike took the chance and pulled Buffy’s chin up and over so that her mouth met his. He kissed her, gently, tenderly and then whimpered, softly, when she broke their contact.
“Let’s watch the movie,” Buffy whispered softly, laying her head on Spike’s strong shoulder. “Please?” she pleaded in a soft, quiet voice.
“Okay, luv,” Spike murmered in reply, trying not to show his disappointment. They watched the rest of the movie, in silence, with just an occasional chaste kiss, or hug between them.
When the movie was over, Buffy cried like a baby and allowed Spike to lead her out of the theater. He hurried to the DeSoto, quickly, trying to comfort his date, his Buffy, as he went.
“It was so sad,” Buffy sobbed, not even trying to hide her sorrow at the end of the movie. “Only a few of them got away from the bad guys….it was so sad,” she repeated, miserably.
“It’s a movie, sweet,” Spike reminded Buffy, “don’t let it upset you, please.”
“But it really happened, Spike,” Buffy whined, stubbornly. “Those guys, in that prison camp? They tried to escape and only a few of them made it. It’s so sad,” she repeated, sadly.
“Come on, then,” Spike cooed into Buffy’s warm ear, “let’s get you home.”
“It’s only 9:45, Spike,” Buffy glanced at the Sunnydale Town Center Clock and frowned. “Do we have to go home now?”
“Nope,” Spike grinned, happily, “not for a while, anyway. Want to go to the park? Talk a bit?”
“Uh huh,” Buffy replied, a little too quickly.
Spike drove the DeSoto to the park, which was empty, for some weird reason and parked it at the end, on the corner. Just like the night before.
He turned on his radio, tuning into ‘KEWB’ from San Francisco. The voice of Robert W. Morgan blaired out into the car and the empty night air. Spike hit the volume and turned the sound down, to very, very low.
Buffy sat, quietly, listening to the music and snuggling into Spike. She still sniffed, from time to time, from the sad end of the movie they’d just seen.
“So sad,” Buffy whimpered softly, burying her head into Spike’s shoulder. “Makes you think about how easy your own life is, huh?”
“True,” Spike responded evenly. “I guess things are pretty relevant, sweetheart,” he sighed.
Suddenly, Elvis Presley’s ‘Jailhouse Rock’ began to play on the radio and Buffy gasped softly.
“My Mom, she loved Elvis,” Buffy whispered softly with a deep, sad sigh.
Spike reached over to turn off the radio, not wanting to remind Buffy of the sad times in her life.
“It’s okay,” Buffy murmered quickly, “I like Elvis too. It just reminds me sometimes, of my Mom, of everything.”
“Buffy,” Spike began carefully, “if you don’t want to…”
“Spike,” Buffy suddenly blurted, “what happened? In England, with you and your family? Why did you come here? To Sunnydale? Not that I’m unhappy about ‘that’ but I just need to know?” She looked at her date with wide green eyes.
“If you tell me your dark secrets? I’ll tell you mine,” she whispered, her eyes gazing into his.
“I can’t think you’d have too many deep dark secrets, sweetheart,” Spike said quietly as he nuzzled her forehead with his lips. “You’re such a perfect little thing. So sweet, so dear and…”
“I’m a human being Spike,” Buffy sighed, “with faults and everything. Just like everyone else. Would you tell me? Please?”
Spike hesitated for a moment, then nodded his blond head and flipped off the radio. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, then gazed back into Buffy’s beautiful green eyes.
“My Mum and Dad, they had a nice little house, outside of London,” Spike began, quietly. “Dad was a librarian, at a history archive in the city. Mum, she didn’t work outside of the house, but she did do some home office typing. Helped out with the household expenses and all. Dad would drop me off, at school, every morning.”
Spike ran his hands down Buffy’s warm arms, tenderly, and nuzzled her face with his lips.
“I had friends, lots of them. But there was a kid, a younger bloke who hung out with us. His name was Andrew. He was a sickly, kind of whimpy kid, with a shaky family. Kind of took him in, we did. My gang and me.”
Buffy pulled away from Spike and gazed into his eyes, again, trying to read the emotion there. She tried to imagine Spike, in England, with a gang?
“Andrew,” Spike continued, “he was, like I said, he was a weak little bloke. Not much to him and pretty mellow. Some blokes, in the West End? They caught ahold of Andrew, without us others about and beat him within an inch of his life. Broke his nose, blacked his eyes and busted up his ribs, just because they could. You know? Bullies, I guess you’d Yanks would call them.”
“Yeah, bullies,” Buffy repeated, softly, thinking of Angel and his friends.
“Anyway,” Spike sighed heavily, “I sought out the leader of the gang, an ugly brute by the name of Tommy Haggerty. Kicked his arse from here to Sunday and back. Put ‘him’ in the hospital and was arrested for it.”
“That’s not fair,” Buffy cried out in indignation, “you were only defending your friend, Andrew. Why would the law put you away for that?”
Spike chuckled, ruefully, “I wasn’t quite fifteen, luv,” he sighed. “Tommy was the oldest son of a local cop and I was the son of a scholar in London. Who was going to the hospital, and who was going to jail?”
“Oh,” Buffy murmered as she held Spike close to her. “So your Dad and Mom, they ‘had’ to move?”
“No,” Spike shook his head and tossed his smoke out of the car window, “but they thought it would be best for me. I’m not sorry, Buffy,” he admitted, honestly, “to be here. In Sunnydale, with you.”
Buffy smiled and then buried her head into Spike’s chest, again, taking in the sweet scent of cologne, cigarette smoke and something else. A special scent that was totally Spike.
“My Mom,” Buffy spoke up, suddenly in the mood to confess herself. “She…”
“Buffy, if you don’t want to talk about your Mum, then don’t,” Spike said, his voice low and deep. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“I want to,” Buffy whispered, her voice muffled against his warm, strong chest.
“My Mom,” Buffy stammered, a little unsure just how to begin. “She was real pretty and real nice. For years, that is, until…”
Spike felt Buffy flinch and he began to stroke her long, golden hair with his hands. She nestled into his arms and sighed in contentment, or so he thought, anyway.
“Until?” he asked quietly.
“Mom wanted lots of kids, I mean lots of them,” Buffy whispered. “She and Dad, they tried, endlessly, to add to the family. I only found this out, about four years ago or so. I was about thirteen, I think, when I overheard Mama and Daddy arguing. Mama was saying that if it hadn’t been for me, she would have had three or four more babies by now. That’s when it all clicked, in my head, that is.”
“What, luv?” Spike asked, warily, not sure where this was going.
“Mama blamed me, for her miscarriages. While I was growing up, Mom had a lot of problems, physically. I never understood, until I was older, that they had to do with babies. Mom got pregnant, all right, but couldn’t seem to carry the babies to full term.”
“How’s that ‘your’ fault, sweet,” Spike whispered, kissing Buffy’s warm head, tenderly. He felt her slump against him in defeat and it tugged at his heart.
“Apparently Mom thought that my birth had something to do with her problems. When I heard Mom and Dad arguing? It was about how ‘I’ had caused her problems. How by her having me, she couldn’t have more children, properly. Dad was trying to defend me, explain how it didn’t matter that there was only one child. I was enough and Mom should be grateful for it.”
“It was soon after that night, when I overheard Mom and Dad? Mama took too many pills and died. It was me that found her, Spike,” she admitted, sadly, her little voice was raspy and filled with sorrow.
Buffy began to cry, quietly, slowly drenching the Spike’s shirt, her shoulders shaking against him.
“Oh my little Buffy,” Spike whispered, pulling his girl tightly to him, “it isn’t your fault. If your Mum wasn’t meant to have more babies, then that’s the way it was. Not your fault, luv, and she should not have blamed you for it. Please don’t cry.”
Spike pulled away from Buffy, slightly, and used his left hand to pull her chin up so he could gaze into her gorgeous green eyes. He leaned into her with his mouth and kissed her, tenderly, on her lips.
“You’re awfully sweet, Spike,” Buffy whispered with a sniff or two, after they broke their kiss.
“Not really,” he chuckled, derisively, “but you are sweet, Buffy,” he murmered, his eyes boring into hers.
“Buffy,” Spike began, a little nervously, “would you be my girl, please?” He felt his throat tighten and his stomach do flip flops as he gazed into her eyes, again, looking for his answer.
“Yes, Spike,” Buffy murmered softly, “I’ll be your girl,” she raised her head up and kissed his lips again, with hers.
Spike beamed, happily and pulled Buffy flush to his body, turning on the radio once again. The disc jocky from KEWB came on and announced his show for the evening.
“This is the Reel Don Steele,” the jocky blurted, gleefully from the dashboard of the DeSoto.
“We’re going to start our show tonight with a bit of an oldie for all of you lovers, young and old. Elvis Presley’s ‘Love Me Tender’.
While Buffy and Spike kissed each other, tenderly, the first strains of ‘Love Me Tender’ played from the radio.
‘Love Me Tender’ (by Elvis Presley and Vera Matson)
‘Love me tender,
Love me sweet,
Never let me go,
You have made my life complete,
And I love you so.
Love me tender,
Love me true,
All my dreams fulfilled,
For my darlin’ I love you,
And I always will.
Love me tender,
Love me long,
Take me to your heart.
For it’s there that I belong,
And we’ll never part.
Buffy pulled away from Spike, in need of a breath of air and then smiled, radiantly at him.
“I can’t believe that I’m going to be Spike Giles’ girlfriend,” she whispered in awe. Her green eyes were as round as saucers as she perused her new boyfriend, proudly.
“I can’t believe that my girlfriend is Buffy Summers,” Spike replied, equally in awe as he perused his girlfriend, lovingly.
“Buffy,” Spike finally spoke, his voice was proud, happy and arrogant, a smirk on his handsome face. “When school starts next week? Baby,” he chortled, pulling his girl to him, “we are so going to kick some snob ass!”
Buffy giggled and blushed, “aren’t we though,” she sighed happily as she snuggled her blond head into Spike’s shoulder. Her guy checked his watch, noted the time and turned on the ignition key to his beloved DeSoto.
Spike pulled away from the park and headed to Buffy’s home, whistling, contently, to some random rock song now playing on the radio. His girl, Buffy, drummed her fingers, on his thigh, to the music as they cruised down the main street of Sunnydale.
A/N: Sigh, if only things could be this simple, huh? Okay, so things are going to get a little tougher for our couple, but then, it wouldn’t be Spuffy if there wasn’t some angst involved, right?
I threw ‘The Great Escape’ and James Garner in there because ‘I’ have always had a big crush on the actor! A little personal history here: When I was 17 and a senior in HS, my buddies and me ditched classes and drove to Hollywood in my friend’s vintage Barracuda. On Mullholland Drive, we stumbled across a great looking guy picking up a hitch hiker in his Mach 1 Mustang. Who do you think that was? Yup, James Garner!!! God, he was beautiful!
Anyway, please read, review and give me some input on the story. If you like…let me know. If you have suggestions? Let me know! Thanks, luv, Spuf
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