Woman begins by resisting a man's advances and ends up blocking his retreat. ~Oscar Wilde
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
It wasn’t often that Spike sat back and just watched the
scene. Well, that wasn’t true, he’d sit back and watch,
under the pretense of not caring, but in actuality it was
all an act. An act that Buffy had seen through many
times. “It’s so. . . brat pack of you,” she admonish him
the few times before she’d accompanied him to
clubs, “to just pretend you’re bored, when
you’re really just scoping things out and hoping some
stupid broad will come over and rescue you.”
It's funny, I spent my whole life wanting to be talked
about
I did it, just about everything to see my name in lights
Was it all worth it
And how did I earn it
Nobody's perfect
I guess I deserved it
He’d always laughed at her assumptions, and never
argued with her. How could he, when she was right? It
was his M.O. Adopt that sort of world-weary persona in
order to allow some stupid sod to drag you into living
and then live it up as if it were you were never out of
practice in doing so in the first place. It worked like a
charm, every time. Except that now, he realized, he
really was world-weary. Not bored, necessarily
though, but tired. And here he was, embarking
on a whole new adventure: The adventure of
reinventing himself yet again. Well, hey, if Madonna
could do it, then he could do it too.
He hoped.
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
Does this get any better
Should I carry on
Will it matter when I'm gone
Will any of this matter
So, now he sat and watched. Watched the men just
like him and the women who wanted to be with them.
Watched how ridiculous it all seemed, how pointless.
Especially when his eyes would land on Buffy, off in
her own little world, dancing to the music, oblivious to
what was going on around her. She was such an
innocent, he mused, and yet, not. She was smart –
bright and articulate. She didn’t hold back in what she
thought, and gave it straight every time. She knew how
to cut right to the quick of him. With so many
surrounding him telling him how wonderful he was,
how larger than life he was, it was nice for someone to
bring him back down to Earth and tell him, that really,
he was still a little fish in a big bowl and he needed to
check that ego at the door.
Buffy was so real. She didn’t put on airs, she
was who she was and that was all she wanted or
needed to be. It was all he wanted and needed her to
be.
It's funny how everybody mentions my name but
they're never very nice
I took it, just about everything except my own advice
Was it all worth it
And how did I earn it
Nobody's perfect
I guess I deserved it
“Hey, what are you doing here, sitting all alone?”
Looking up into a pair of deep brown eyes, Spike sat
up straighter. The girl before him was beautiful. Not a
classic beauty, but more of an exotic one. Her skin
was dark, her eyes large and seductive. Her long
chestnut hair was sleek down her back and she
smiled, her ruby red lips forming and inviting smile.
She slid into the chair that Buffy had occupied and
leaned forward slightly.
He stared at the brazen woman, and blinked. “Hi,” he
said, uncertainly. Where had all his confidence gone?
Why did he feel suddenly threatened?
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
[Nothing lasts forever]
Does this get any better
Should I carry on
Will it matter when I'm gone
Will any of this matter
“I’ve seen you here before. Many times. I’ve just never
had the courage to come up to you. Mostly because I
felt so fat. You inspired me to lose weight and get stuff
done – you probably don’t want to hear this. I’m sorry.
I’ve said too much. Would you like a drink?”
Spike could do nothing but stare. He inspired
this beautiful woman to lose weight? She felt moved
by his . . . emptiness, his fakeness, his utter lack of
feeling for any female he’d come in contact with, that
she’d done what she could to make herself
presentable, noticeable to him.
He wanted to throw up.
How high, does it make a difference
Nothing lasts forever
Should I, will it matter when I'm gone
Will any of this matter
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
Should I carry on
Will it matter when I'm gone
“My name is Miranda, by the way,” she rushed out.
“Miranda, listen—“
Immediately, her perfectly pretty face crumpled. “I’m
not pretty enough.”
He shook his head adamantly. “No, that’s not it at all,
you’re bloody gorgeous—“
“Then what is it? Why not me? I’ve seen you here so
many times with other women and now you suddenly
don’t want any?”
“What’s going on here?”
Spike’s head snapped up at the sound of Buffy’s
voice, laced with jealousy and demand. Her green
eyes were flashing and the look on her face told him
she was not pleased.
She thought the worse of him. Already.
“Pet, it’s not what you think—“
“What do I think?” Buffy asked, glaring at the girl.
Miranda in the meantime stood, nearly tumbling back
her chair in her haste to get away. “I have to go.”
Spike jumped up, wanting to talk with her, tell her he
was not someone she should change for.
She’d disappeared in the crowd though, and going
after her meant risking Buffy. He couldn’t have that.
She raised a brow and eyed him, “I have no ties to
you.”
He nodded, “I know.”
”And you have none to me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You do?”
“I do. I love you.”
“I’m just saying, that we’re not together so it’s not like
you can’t date other women, but I’d just rather
that you—“ she took a deep breath and shook her
head. “I thought you were done picking up strange
women!”
“I wasn’t picking her up! She was picking me up.”
“Isn’t that always the way.”
“Buffy, she came over and sat down. I was sitting here,
watching you dance and thinking—“
“You were watching me?”
“Yes, luv, I was. She came over and started telling me
how she’d seen me here before but never had the
courage to come up to me because she felt fat. That
beautiful woman felt fat because of me.
She went on a diet because I never gave her
the time of day, because she felt she didn’t measure
up to the stupid bimbo’s I took my time up with.” He
ran a hand through his blond locks, ruffling them. “I
feel like such a jackass.”
Buffy softened immediately, “Spike, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay.”
Grabbing his hands, Buffy made him stand still. He
met her eyes and instantly relaxed.
“It’s okay,” she soothed him. “You can’t hold yourself
responsible for every woman you come in
contact with. Spike, you’re a celebrity and yeah, there’s
going to be girls all over that do things like that
because they think they’re the ones that are going to
win you, but it’s not your fault.”
“I just feel like. . . like I wasted my time on those plastic
women when real beauties with hearts and souls and
brains were out there,” he said, nearly
whining. “Here you were this whole time, Buffy. Right
in front of me and I was too stupid to see. Or maybe I
knew and . . . you’re too good for me. A great deal too
good. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself. You did that
already remember? The road only goes up from here.
It’s time to stop blaming yourself for every little thing
and letting it bog you down. Focus on that picture
getting clearer and clearer. Focus on Alicia. Forgive
yourself.”
He met her eyes, imploring her, “Can you forgive me?”
She nodded and smiled, “Yes, Spike, I can.”
“Will you ever be able to trust me?”
“In time.”
“Can we—can we go home now?”
“Lead the way.”
How high are the stakes
Does it make a difference
Nothing lasts forever
Does this get any better
Should I carry on
Will it matter when I'm gone
Does it make a difference
Will any of this matter
How high are the stakes
How much fortune can you make
Should I carry on
Will it matter when I'm gone
**Song “How High by Madonna
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