“Anya, for the hundredth time, I can’t go get you a beer! I’ve given you at least half of mine, for crying out loud, and if that isn’t good enough...”

Willow could hear them bickering before she reached the table. “Good grief, are they still going on about that? If only Anya would get a beer, we’d all get a moment of peace.”

Spike figured that since he was the only one who’d be able to buy alcohol in the whole group, he’d be the only one able to shut the ex-demon up. Bad enough that he’d be stuck with the whelp and the Slayer--might turn to dust from their stares alone--but Anya’s whinging was relentless and irritating as hell. “Look, I’m going to get myself something to drink--might as well get a round for you lot while I’m at it. You two birds want something?” Before either of them could respond, he pointed a finger in their faces. “But don’t think this’ll be some kind of habit or whatnot. I’m not part of you lot, don’t want to be, but I might as well act the gentleman when I’m invited.”

Fighting back the urge to slap him on the back and say ‘ah, shucks’, Willow simply grinned at him. Which, from the look of despair on his face, was just as bad. “No, no beer for me--I’m on a solid Shirley Temple diet. Just pick up a beer for Xander and Anya and you’ll be fine. And Tara...” She turned to the other witch. “You want anything?”

The blonde blushed. “Oh, no, I don’t want to...”

Spike groaned. “Look, Glinda--you’re not takin’ advantage. You want me to get you something to drink? Might as well take me on my offer, seein’ as it happens once in a blue moon.”

“Oh.. ok, then. I’ll have... a cooler!” She nodded, proud of herself. She’d never had alcohol before, but her life was taking a turn for the better. Why not celebrate with a little drink?

The vampire raised an eyebrow at the witch‘s proud smile. He couldn‘t help but smile himself. “Any particular kind?”

“Uh, I’ve never... Are there lots of kinds? How about you choose? I’m sure I’ll be ok with anything you get me.”

The vampire shook his head, leaving the two girls behind. Bloody wanker, he was turning out to be. Who would’ve guessed he’d lower himself to buying drinks for the Scoobies?

***

Maybe it was because he’d brought beer, maybe it was because he’d been patrolling for the Slayer, or maybe it was just because Willow had told them to be nice to him. Either way, the Scoobies had been far more civil towards the bleached vampire than they’d ever been. As much as he hated himself for it, Spike appreciated not being the despised outcast for once.

Anya, of course, had jumped for joy at the sight of her very own beer--she’d ranted for ten minutes before Spike had threatened to take it away from her if she didn’t shut up. Xander had grudgingly accepted his own beer, which was something on tap--Guinness, actually. Spike had decided it was about time the whelp had a taste of real beer. Although he‘d initially made some sly comments about drinking molasses, he‘d quickly shut up and seemed quite happy with the headier brew. And Tara had decided to share her cooler with Willow. She’d felt the alcohol go to her brain after half the bottle, and figured that getting drunk in front of a new group of people wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave them with.

The only person who hadn’t said a word to him had been the Slayer herself. However, he wasn’t sure if it was because of animosity or just because she looked like she was going to fall asleep at any moment. Her eyes had drifted shut a few times and she was visibly fighting fatigue.

While he was busy observing his nemesis (ex-nemesis? They weren’t really trying to kill each other anymore, were they?), the vampire hadn’t noticed that the others had gotten up off their seats.

Willow put her hand on the Slayer‘s shoulder. “Come on, Buffy--maybe a bit of dancing will wake you up a bit!” Her hand was holding Tara’s, and both girls seemed to have a case of the giggles. One cooler had managed to give both girls a good, heady, buzz.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not really up to a lot of dancing tonight. You guys go ahead without me--I’ll just sit here and finish my tomato juice.” She looked at her glass with undisguised loathing before finishing it in one gulp. Grimacing, she tried to smile. “See? Everything’s hunky dorey.”

Not quite convinced, but willing to give her friend some space, Willow and Tara looked expectantly at the blonde vamp. “Spike?”

“Not on my unlife, witches. There’s no way you’re having me out on that dance floor, with that bloody racket playing. Now, maybe if sectioned off an area for a mosh pit and played some decent music I might be tempted to go.”

Both blondes watched the two witches join the others on the dance floor, ready to shake their booty to the deafening beat of the music. Buffy missed being able to dance off her tension, but the last thing she felt like doing right now was expending a ton of energy. It was taking all she had not to push Spike off that couch and take a nap on it. She looked across at the vampire and sighed. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they’d be ok.

Spike sat forward, legs splayed and beer resting in between them. He couldn’t keep out the obvious glee in his voice when he addressed her for the first time. “So, Slayer, all that time you spent with Captain Cardboard, all that time you thrust him in my face, telling me how good he was, how noble he was,” he put on an effeminate voice, “oh, Riley is such a good person, not like you, Spike. You’re an evil monster, but my Riley is as pure as the undriven snow...” He shook his head, snickering. “All that time, it was a lie. The good ol’ farmboy was no better than your average wanker, tucking tail and running when the idyllic relationship became tainted. So who‘s the monster eh, luv? The one who‘s helping you out, or the one who left you high and dry?”

When his eyes lifted to meet hers, he felt a tug at the expression that crossed the Slayer’s features. He immediately regretted his words, feeling... guilt?... at the pain he’d caused her. But he felt no guilt at airing his feelings about Whitebread. He’d been upstaged so many times by that pillock that it felt great to be able to have the tables turned for once.

So much for silence from the bleached wonder. Buffy was hurt by the vamp‘s outburst. Her emotions were still too raw for her not to fight back--she never even stopped to consider the reasons for which she was defending the man who had abandoned her. “Oh please, like you’ve spent such a ‘bloody’ gallant life yourself. I wouldn’t judge others if I were you, you know, William the Bloody..” She forced out a laugh that was devoid of any mirth. “It’s laughable, you know--someone who’s spent over a hundred years torturing people is now placing himself on a pedestal because of something some human did...”

The vampire’s eyes flashed gold for a brief moment, guilt forgotten. “Yeah, Slayer--you’re right. I’ve done some nasty things in my time. Things that your simple mind couldn’t even begin to imagine. But the one thing I’ve never done is leave the woman I love because she’s become an inconvenience.” He smiled when the young woman flinched at the intentional jab. “One hundred and twenty years I spent with one of the barmiest birds around. Dru was never all there--you can thank Angelus and his twisted mind for that. But after Prague, when she became sick, it was decades upon decades of putting up with weeks of wailing, fits, and mood swings. She talked to her dolls, she could see the stars--inside, in the morning--it was like living with Sybil. And not once, not at any time, Slayer, did it once cross my mind to leave her because it was a bother to me to comfort her and protect her from herself. I may be the Big Bad, but I’m not completely heartless.”

He got up and turned around, unable to look at the Slayer’s big green eyes, filled with unshed tears. Yes, he’d hurt her--he’d reminded her that one didn’t have to be a demon to do cruel things--but he wasn’t going to let himself be compared to that whitebread army brat. “I’m getting myself something to drink.” He’d only taken a few steps away from her before he turned back to her. Wanker. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Buffy was startled by the bleached blonde’s question. Didn’t he just tell her off? Set her straight? And now he was offering to buy her a drink?! How dare he be a gentleman! But she was really thirsty--the tomato juice had been sorely lacking in thirst quench--so she bit back her pride and nodded. “A Ginger Ale would be nice.” She watched him walk away towards the bar and let a few tears slip by. It was true. Riley, her oh-so-right human boyfriend had turned his back on her at her most needed time; Spike--the former scourge of Europe--had stuck by his own woman through thick and thin. Buffy realized that she still had lots to learn about the world around her--and much more to unlearn...