Chapter Six
Spike made his way through the open, marbled floor hallway, not even bothering to stop and glance at the expensive Monets and Rembrandts that littered the pearly white walls. This house wasn’t made for living in, he thought to himself as he passed a glass case with some ancient Egyptian trinket lying on a plush maroon pillow. The so-called house was more like a small museum, built to entertain guests and hold cocktail parties rather than hang out and feel comfortable in. As it was, Spike looked incredibly out of place among the beautifully adorn walls and the well cared for flooring.
“And where do you think you’re going, William?” an upper-classed British accent voice clipped out from behind him as Spike descended down the wide, winding stairway. Spike rolled his eyes at the use of his given name.
“Out,” he said, not bothering to turn around, “… and it’s Spike.”
“I refuse to call you – uh, William, are you aware that your trousers are in need of mending?” Rupert Giles, the Pratt’s butler for almost two generations, squinted his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose, studying the frayed hem of the jeans Spike was wearing.
“Yeah,” Spike said, nonchalantly. “Don’t worry ‘bout them, Rupes.”
“And for God’s sake, young man, pull them up! I really do not know what has gotten into the children of this generation. No sense of what is proper at all!” he chided him until Spike finally turned to face him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be doing something, Old Maid?” Spike glared, irritated, “Wipe some wine glasses? Dust some furniture off? I know my father didn’t hire you to stare at my backside all day…”
“What… H- I’m not a maid, you arrogant, overbearing - !” Giles sputtered, “I’ll have you know that I have been around since before you were even conceived and – “
“Yeah, yeah, tell someone who cares,” Spike dismissed with a wave of an arm and descended down the rest of the stairs.
“Your father will hear of this behavior!” Giles called after him, “Disrespect is looked down upon in this – “
The front door slammed and Giles sighed, shaking his head.
“Teenagers,” he muttered to himself.
…………
Buffy glued herself to Cordelia’s side as they entered the crowded club. LA had been useless to her - never had she been in a place like this before, contrary to anyone’s belief. The lights were dimmed to a hazy orange and the sweat from the dancing bodies permeated the air like a thick blanket. The wailing from the stage filled the entire room and the pounding of the drums and the stamping of the feet vibrated the floor. She was terrified.
Cordelia threw her an annoyed look as Buffy tightened her grip on her forearm. “You’re gonna leave bruises,” she glared. Buffy looked a little sheepish and loosened her grip… marginally.
“First day back from school,” Drusilla observed, “it’s not usually this crowded.”
“C’mon, I see a table,” Cordelia pried Buffy’s fingers off and led them to a tiny booth.
Buffy tugged at the hem of her dress, willing it to magically grow longer as she sat down. No such luck. All it earned her was an eye-roll from Cordy and a slap on the arm.
After they were situated, Buffy took a moment to look around at the people surrounding them. Most of the people on the dance floor were teenagers she recognized at school and a few college-guys hung around the back walls gazing hungrily at the jumping, scantily-clad girls.
Xander and Anya magically materialized out of nowhere and appeared in front of them with drinks in their hands.
“Sweet nectar for the beautiful ladies,” Xander grinned and bowed, sliding the drinks onto the table and pulled up a chair. When Anya glared at him, he pulled her onto his lap and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes light up.
“Now?” she asked, smiling excitedly.
“No… later, honey,” he said and she resorted to pouting again.
“Xander Harris, the last time you – “ and he clamped a hand down over her mouth. Buffy’s cheeks reddened and he threw her an apologetic smile.
“Yeah, Anya,” Cordelia gave the couple a pointed look, “no need to advertise how Xander can’t satisfy you, we all know from first-hand experience. And when I say we all, I mean me.”
Anya shut her mouth and stared daggers into Cordelia. Cordelia shrugged nonchalantly and took a sip of her drink, promptly gagging and spitting it back into the cup, “What in the world is this?” she looked down at her drink with disgust and pushed it away from her.
Xander shrugged, “Not sure, exactly. It was the cheapest thing they’ve got on the list, though. Hey, stop with the looks! Does it look like my last name’s ‘Pratt’? Pratt & Co. just fired my dad last week, if you guys must know. They’re just a bunch of evil, stupid – “
“What’s that, Harris?” an unmistakably British accent drifted their way and Xander widened his eyes.
“- generous, kind-hearted citizens out doing the good work of the U. S. of A…” he finished, turning around to give Spike a wide grin.
“That’s what I thought,” Spike slapped his back and slid into the booth, forcing a girl he didn’t recognize to awkwardly shift closer to the wall.
Spike glanced around the table looking for Buffy and frowned when he didn’t see her. To his left was Xander with Anya wiggling on his lap,… then across from him was Cordelia acting all high and mighty as usual with Drusilla sitting next to her, looking a bit bored. Then, there was that gorgeous girl that he had forced to move over. He looked at her curiously, but her sleek brunette waves fell over part of her face and she didn’t look his way.
Cordelia and Drusilla were not-so-subtly nodding between him and the girl, and Spike couldn’t help but wonder …
“Where’s Buffy?” he asked the group and they all looked to his right. The girl looked up, a little surprised.
“What?” she asked, turning to face him and he had to smother down a gasp. This was Buffy. Something inside him stopped working and he felt a flip-flop in his stomach, which made him look down at it curiously. Bloody hell…, he nearly groaned out loud. Spike Pratt did not get butterflies. That was a girl thing.
“You, uh..,” he fought to gain control of himself and forced a smile on his face before finally relaxing. “You look good.”
She blushed prettily and hid her face again. “Thanks,” her voice was practically tinged with uncertainty.
The whole table was silent during the short exchange and everybody leaned in closer, trying to catch what was going on. When it became obvious that neither of the two in question were going to say anything else, Cordelia took the initiative and struck up a new topic.
“Okay, so I totally don’t know whether I want to wear that Versace dress my uncle bought me for homecoming or that Dolce and Gabanna that’s been lying in my closet for like, forever,” she said, loudly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Anya and Drusilla perked up as they got into the topic of homecoming dresses, makeup, plans, … two months in advance.
Buffy idly listened to them chat animatedly about what restaurant they wanted to go to and what hair-dresser was the best to go to for an up-do. She was more interested trying to ignore the guy that was practically burning holes in her head with his blatant stare. Spike’s leg shifted slightly, brushing against hers and she felt a tiny shiver run up her body. He leaned a little closer to her and she got a whiff of the cologne he was wearing; it did nothing to force down this infinitesimal attraction she felt building up towards him.
Spike, on the other hand, was growing more excited by the moment, seemingly indulging in her discomfort. This is too easy,… he smirked to himself, allowing his hand to slide across the seat slowly and brush against her thigh. Buffy nearly jumped up at the ‘accidental’ touch and she slid over an inch closer to the comfort of the wall.
He bent his head down to her ear. “You okay, love?” he whispered and goosebumps spread across her arms when she felt the warmth of his breath blow gently over her ear.
“Yeah,” she muttered, not looking at him. Spike raised an eyebrow.
“That’s good,” he paused, then added, “because you seem a bit… flustered.” At the last word, he inched closer to her and brought his arm slowly around the seat of her booth, letting his fingers graze gently across her back.
Her eyes widened and she finally turned to look at him, uneasily. She turned her head to see the hand that was resting casually by her lap on her other side and felt the arm that was now slung around her body.
Spike continued to stare at her, amused, as she tried to get comfortable in this position. She crossed, uncrossed, and recrossed her legs several times, fiddled with her hands, her drink, and basically did everything short of getting up and leaving to try and calm her nerves.
Cordelia glanced over at the two of them across the table and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at the awkward scene displayed before her. She contemplated to herself whether she should allow this to go on further or put an end to it or… speed things up. Unsure, she turned to look at Drusilla, but found her staring off somewhere in the middle of the dance floor with blank eyes.
Furrowing her brow, she turned her head in the direction of her friend’s stare and saw Angel, dancing sensually with a blonde girl from another school. Hmm… what’s her name?, Cordelia racked her brain for an answer, Delia? Dory… Dena… Darlene?. She gave up and shook her head, making a decision.
“Come on, Drusilla,” she promptly got to her feet and pulled at Drusilla’s arm. The girl snapped her head around to look up at Cordelia. “Let’s dance.”
Drusilla looked at Buffy, who was turning red and trying to get as far from Spike as possible, and then looked at Spike, who was unashamedly trying to hit on her. Smiling, she shrugged and slid across the seats until she was standing, too.
“Sounds good,” she smiled sweetly at Anya and Xander, who followed them to the center of the dance floor.
Casting another glance at Angel, Drusilla forced down the sick feeling that was climbing up her throat. His eyes were closed and he didn’t get to see the saddened look on her face as she forced her gaze away from him.
…………
Buffy looked up just as the rest of the group were getting up and dancing.
“Wh- where are – “ she started, but by then, they were far out of earshot and she slumped back in her seat, feeling at a loss of what to do. Until she felt the arm that was lying between her back and the red material of the booth. She sat up again.
“Well, Summers,” Spike grinned, “looks like it’s just you and me.”
“Right,” she gulped and grabbed at her drink, taking as much down as possible, accidentally sloshing half of it over herself and choking.
Spike was immediately up and reaching for some napkins as soon as he heard her coughing. He grabbed a handful and started wiping at her face, her neck, her chest…
“Hey,” Buffy sputtered, indignantly, pushing his hand away from her.
“Wha- “ Spike looked confused and realization dawned on him, “Oh. Right. Sorry about that.” He handed her the napkins and she wiped herself down. He hadn’t really meant to feel her up, which was rather surprising. There was a time in the near past where he had spilt water on a girl on purpose so he could do just that, and here was the girl that he was trying to get in his pants, and touching her was the last thing on his mind. Well, not the last thing, but…
Spike stared at a tiny drop running down her neck and down the crevice between her breasts, disappearing under her dress and he shifted around, unsuccessfully trying to look away.
“Do you want to dance?” he blurted out without thinking. She stopped wiping half-way and stared at him.
“I’m not really good,” she said, quietly, going back to her wiping. He stopped her movements and took the wad of napkins away from her, replacing them with his hand.
“I’ll teach you,” he smiled, getting up and pulling her along with him. Buffy looked into his hopeful eyes and slowly nodded.
“Okay.”
…………
The band struck up a slow song almost immediately as Spike led Buffy towards the center of the dance floor. He looked up at the stage and thought he caught a wink from Oz, sitting behind the drums. He’d have to remember to thank him later…
He took one of Buffy’s arms in his hands and placed them around his neck before placing both his hands on the small of her back and pulling her closer to him.
“Just follow my lead, pet,” he said in her ear and felt her nod against him. Her hands clenched and unclenched and he smiled as she began to unconsciously play with the collar of his shirt.
This isn’t too bad, Buffy thought as she began to relax and sway to the music. His arms felt good around her and he smelled so nice. His hair tickled her hands and in a bold movement, she ran her hands through it slightly, enjoying the feel of the short hairs between her fingers.
Spike tightened his hold on her until their bodies were lightly pressing against each other and her head was lying against his shoulder. He turned his head and pressed his cheek against her hair, taking a deep breath and enjoying the scent of strawberries and vanilla.
Somebody whistled and he looked up to see Devon grinning at him from across the dance floor and giving him the thumbs up sign. He glared at him and looked away. At this particular moment, he wasn’t thinking about the bet. He was just enjoying the feel of her warm body in his arms.
…………
Drusilla rolled her eyes when she felt Devon’s hands travel down a little too far down her back.
“Cut it out,” she snapped at him and ground into his feet with her heel, causing him to wince and bring his hands up where they belonged.
“God, woman,” he grumbled and glared at her. Then he grinned as he turned to set his gaze on Spike and Buffy. “Aren’t they something?”
“Who?”
“Spike and the new girl, Bunny,” he smirked. Drusilla saw the couple dancing together. They weren’t feeling each other up like half of the people dancing around them, but their eyes were closed and their heads were touching, making them seem more intimate than the people who were rubbing against their partners.
“Buffy,” she corrected, smiling slightly. “They’re nice. They fit well.”
Devon snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, they’ll be fitting well within two – “
“Hey, man,” a deep voice cut him off and a heavy hand laid down none too gently on his arm. Devon turned his head to see Angel standing next to them, trying not to glare.
“What’s up?” Devon asked.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Angel’s voice was firm and was more of a demand than a question and Devon knew one thing – you didn’t mess with Angel when he had ‘that’ voice.
“Whatever, dude,” he shrugged and backed away from Drusilla. Then went to find another girl, preferably one who let him run his hands all over her.
Drusilla sighed and shook her head when Angel took a step towards her. He stopped and stared at her.
“Wait, you let him touch you and you won’t dance with me?” he accused, crossing his arms across his chest. Drusilla just laughed and whirled around, turning her back on him, not bothering to respond.
Angel wouldn’t let her go and caught her arm before she could run off. “What’s this about, Dru?” he demanded.
“Why don’t you ask Darla?” she shook her arm free and took off for the lady’s room.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the delay... i've been swamped this past week with 4 AP tests... and i have one more next week. gah.