Buffy stared at the door, thoughts jumping haphazardly over each other as her brain tried to function. She couldn’t believe it.
Or could she?
Spike didn’t reveal much concerning himself, always keeping to the edges of the Aurelius gang. Anything that the school did know about him was already well known and details he had bragged aloud to everyone.
And they were never about women.
The only girl who had said she knew anything was Harmony and Buffy thought she was an absolute ditz. When your entire time was spent on the phone to other gossip queens then there wasn’t much you knew, beyond who was kissing who of course.
The fact was that the gang, and particularly Spike kept things hidden. Only by joining would it be possible to even listen to some of their conversations and even then individuals weren’t always trusted.
Spike’s reputation was mostly based on who he had beaten up, his snark and swagger and the Big Bad persona. Many said that his clothes were fashioned on Sid Vicious, but beyond the basics he was an enigma. All Buffy could recall when talking to Willow about the Brit was that he hardly ever came to class, was labeled as a rebel and overall remained aloof, snarky comments being his main form of conversation. She never saw him with any girls that looked serious and for all the parading of Angel’s harem never attempted to gather his own flock.
Buffy felt her insides swirl as she considered her relationship before she had been inducted. She knew nothing about him.
Still don’t.
Willow, despite being a geek, had made it her business to know the leaders, jocks and bullies of the school, if only to avoid them. She saw it as a method of self preservation after Larry had specifically targeted her for one of his infamous pranks.
Buffy sighed, wondering whether everything would have been different, if she never caught that first glimpse of him.
It was Willow who had pointed him out, telling Buffy about Spike, when Cordelia started to meet Angel for ‘practice’. The Brit had been rude and dismissive of the prom queen, making Cordelia turn to her friends for a long bitch session. Due to this, Willow now knew a whole alphabet of swear words and had on occasion stuttered them during a fit of rage. Buffy had caught the red head trying to bash it out of her head on the desks during English after one incident with Larry in the cafeteria.
Thus it was that Buffy knew of Spike in a general way, uttering a conciliatory ‘the bastard’ comment when ever Cordelia mentioned him. She’d wanted nothing more to do with men or their issues ever again, hating all males for the sins of her father.
Spike completely changed that.
His absence from school for two months had left most of Sunnydale suspicious, wondering as to the state of the Aurelius gang and a power shift. Spike was presumed dead by some before it was announced by Angel that he had gone to hospital. The brooding man had grown sick of everyone gossiping about it and nearly ripped Andrew's throat out when the geek asked to hold a seance for Spike's departed soul. The cafeteria had laughed as he did it.
Buffy had been fairly oblivious to the rumors or the growing tensions against the Initiative. Her own family life had been in the midst of huge turmoil. Hank had wanted to see her again, claiming the need for connection and of course Joyce was furious. Buffy’s mother had desired the attention for herself, unconcerned to the fact that her daughter wanted nothing to do with the man. She had never recognised the fear which coated Buffy’s eyes at the mention of Hank or anything to do with LA. And even if she did it wouldn’t have made a difference. Joyce simply didn’t care.
The day that Spike came back with six brand new stitches in his eyebrow, had been the first time that Buffy really saw him. Fell in love with him. The doors to the hallway had smashed open, Angel striding in with a smug expression. He wore loose clothing so as to hide his weapon, with the traditional leather jacket on one arm. Cordelia, carrying a pink designer hand bag had been plastered onto his other side, complaining about something when Buffy caught her eye. The brunette merely sniffed at them, ignoring Willow who naively had waved. She’d rejected them just the week before to become an official kept woman of the gang leader.
It would take just another fortnight before she rang Buffy, crying her eyes out on the phone.
A flood of people had ensued after them, some like Andrew believing that if they walked in with the gang, there would be less to fear from their tormentors. It didn’t matter that most of their bullies were part of the group that they followed after. It had sickened Buffy seeing how they scurried along in Angel’s wake, not catching the disdainful sneers and simpering to the hulking man. He was someone they could at least talk to and know the end result.
Spike on the other hand was a complete mystery.
The Brit had calmly flicked his Zippo lighter, a small flame appearing and being the primary thing she focused on. A cigarette had dangled from his lips with the Marlboro pack stuffed into the back of tight black Levis. Buffy’s lips parted at the sight. He had oozed sensuality just lighting the cancer stick, keeping his eyes on the ground as though traversing a tightrope. The heavy leather duster had draped over his frame, hiding lithe muscles and a shining semi automatic.
Buffy could remember Willow commenting on Cordelia’s behaviour, nodding along without truly listening. As Spike had blown the smoke out of his mouth, she had caught his eyes and been lost.
The twin orbs swirled with emotion, uncommon in a man from his position. Hatred, passion and most of all energy flowed through them, locking Buffy into a state of amazement. They were the color of ice, pure, objective and entrancing. She wouldn’t have noticed a clown if it had dunked her in water, she was so captivated.
Her hands had unconsciously lifted to her shirt, smoothing it down in an attempt to be more presentable. All Buffy could see was him. Ignoring the warnings she could feel her heart giving her.
Spike was not the happily ever after variety. Trusting him as she had her godfather would end in the same result, if not worse.
Buffy had disregarded the signs.
Now she wondered whether it had been a mistake.
***
The bouncing was starting to drive him crazy.
Angel glared into the back of the van where Spike, full of energy, was hopping on his seat. The Brit had been unable to contain his vigor after the ‘meeting’ with Parker. Normally it would have ended in a fight of some kind, with Angel challenging the rival leader or having a pair of men smash each other with their fists until one was out cold. It was a normal procedure after the Master had admonished them for the last gang war.
Angel stretched, the scars from his eight lashes growing taunt. He’d hate to see what the gang lord would do if they really fucked up. The brunette could remember quite well the old man’s speech on how he was ‘going easy on them.’ The only retribution was that Parker had received the same. And screamed louder thought Angel with a dark smile. Spike had nearly killed the man a couple of days before and thus was not quite ready for the Master’s verdict.
Served him right.
Angel glared at the bleached blond through the mirror, surprised that a guy who sang ‘Rebel Yell’ at karaoke bars could be the same one who killed petty thieves and gossipers. It was a complete contradiction.
Perhaps I should be more surprised that he didn’t touch Parker. Angel knew that the Brit had been desperate for a ‘spot of bloodshed’. Hell they had all been raring for it. The brunette could see Wesley sitting in the passenger seat from the corner of his eye, staring longingly at his gun. They like it too much. The brunette did not investigate his own desires or the way his adrenalin rushed as he’d cut up the farm boy. He figured that for being involved as long as he has it was natural to adjust to the thrill of seeing blood spatter from a wound. At least that’s what he told himself. Angel didn’t want to think of Cordelia’s horrified look or the way she had slipped away into their room, locking the door behind her. He hadn’t bothered to talk to her, knowing it was useless. Besides thought Angel with a grin, I can always get another one. He pressed his foot down on the gas, loving the feeling of speeding past a patrolling cop car and knowing they couldn’t touch him. He didn’t understand how Cordelia could call it an evil business when there were perks like this.
Spike had finally stopped bouncing and instead now sat on his hands. His blue eyes, electric blue with fervor glowed, glancing at Gunn every odd minute. It seemed that the muscled street fighter couldn’t stand the movement either and had finally said something. The four men remained quiet, only Spike’s fidgeting breaking the silence. The other members were in various cars, Jacob driving a modest sedan about 3 miles behind.
Angel had wanted to keep the Irishman out of their affairs, but knew that it was impossible. There was no good explanation readily available. Plus there was the fact that he had the Master’s ear. Anything that went wrong would be known quickly and dealt with just as fast. The old man’s power was astonishing.
Gunn’s voice from the back broke through his thoughts.
“So are you hitting that blond of yours yet?”
Spike slipped his hands out from under his thighs slowly, not looking at his friend. The duster had been thrown somewhere amongst the piles of various equipment they carried around and Spike’s shoulders grew tight.
Angel sighed. Wrong question to ask Gunn.
Spike only reiterated the brunette’s thoughts, cracking his neck and staring ahead. “What does it have to do with you?”
Gunn smiled disarmingly, scooting away from the smaller man. He had seen what Spike could do when angry and wanted to keep his arms unbroken. The Brit was known for getting a little bit too enthusiastic in his retribution.
Practically all of them were.
“I was just asking man.” The black man held his hands up in a sign of surrender. He could hear the soft laughter coming from Wesley and decided that if he got the chance he would shoot the prick. Dark brown eyes glanced at the bleached blond, hoping that he was somewhat calmer. Gunn wanted to scream in frustration when he saw the Brit’s foot tapping erratically on the floor. It was the only body part that wasn’t controlled and showed how much he still wanted to fight. Spike was incredibly tense.
“It doesn’t really matter anyway you know” said Gunn jovially. “She’s just a new piece of ass and it’ll fade. It always does.” He patted Spike’s shoulder in a friendly way, not noticing that it was like touching steel. “I don’t mind you getting all pissed Spike but you need to remember that women come and go. Messes with your head if you think of it any other way.” He flashed brilliant white teeth in a smile that he hoped would soothe the second in command. “It’s not like you love her anyway…” Gunn looked out the windshield, oblivious to the dead silence his statement had created.
Spike bit his lip, gnawing at it as the seconds ticked by. He wanted to open his mouth and contradict Gunn or agree but knew that he couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. His eyes became frantic as Wesley slowly turned to face him, polishing his glasses before giving him a heavy stare.
They knew.
Angel slowly pressed his foot to the brake, wanting to scream with rage. I knew this would happen. I KNEW IT! He couldn’t help thinking that maybe he should have taken Summers for himself. Angel was positive that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall in love with her. The brunette resisted the urge to smash his fist through the windshield. Spike is going to ruin everything!
The van came to abrupt halt at that thought, nearly throwing Gunn from his seat.
“Hey Angel what gives-“
Angel pulled out a gun from beneath his seat, moving it quickly so that it pointed directly at Spike. “Shut it.”
The black man nodded, pressing his body so that it leaned against the door. He spied a look at Wesley who watched with rapt attention. Guy’s probably enjoying this shit. Gunn winced as he heard the safety clip on the gun click off.
Aureli was pissed.
Angel focused his attention on his wayward deputy, noting with despair the locked jaw which ticked in irritation and icy blue eyes. His face appeared made out of stone, hard, sharp cheekbones making a sharp contrast to the white hair. This is going to be difficult.
“Should I just shoot you?” he asked quietly. Angel kept his tone cold; knowing that they were all going to loose badly if the Brit did not give up on his emotions. They were dangerous.
Spike shrugged. “If you think it will change anything be my bloody guest.” The Brit kept his gaze locked with Angel’s. They had faced off before over a similar issue. Drusilla.
Angel had always believed that women meant trouble unless you controlled them. He called them vipers, telling all the men repeatedly that if they loved a woman to get rid of her as soon as possible. Anything else would lead to disaster. Spike had sat through many of those speeches, agreeing after his messy breakup and acting as a testimony for other members. Dru had ruined him, changed his character to one of incredible viciousness.
All the other men had to do was stare at him and know why it was that they had more than one girlfriend and never shared their secrets. He had been the epitome of all despair. For over a month he’d been absolutely bleedin’ blind caught in drunken binges that nearly destroyed his liver. Spike hadn’t done anything except wallow. He was all the encouragement they needed.
Angel had lauded the fact that Drusilla could turn him. Yet he’d also harped on for bloody hours about the opposite effects. Feelings were weaknesses; emotions were the difference between survival and a bullet through the head.
“Only the passion for the gun and fight is acceptable.”
A laughable quote except when Angel pounded it into your skull with a bat.
Some had been slightly disconcerted at this notion, but changed the tune quick enough. Angel had demonstrated his point with a nonconforming member, smashing the stupid git to the floor before busting his brains out onto cold cement.
Spike would be surprised if the poofter didn’t shoot him.
Despite his acceptance of some Angel’s views, the Brit had never gotten along with the wanker concerning women. And definitely not on how they should be treated. It was Spike’s job to deal with the prostitutes that they placed on the streets and in general issues with confidants or any other task. It’d been a unanimous decision for him to be placed as negotiator and also to care of their needs. Spike would have been surprised at the verdict, if not remembering his fellow Brit’s behaviour. Wesley had only acted as a supervisor for one day before killing a girl, saying that she was impure. Spike hadn’t said much to the pillock since.
Angel tolerated his soft spoken words or the indulgences he gave the whores if only to mock in front of others. But beyond that the brunette had drawn the line. After punching his face in for being cordial to Darla, Spike was assured to have a constant reminder if he didn’t keep distant and most importantly, hateful.
In Spike’s eyes, the git was petrified that he’d become involved with another manipulative bird and sow their ruin all over again. Everyone knew Parker couldn’t resist the temptation of fucking with him.
The only comfort Spike had was cold, knowing that he wasn’t the only one. Gunn and Wesley were constantly fighting over some bint named Fred. She never stayed with one of them for long, playing the two fools at Angel’s command. Spike couldn’t help chuckling at the twisted nature of it all. Poofter wants to make sure everyone is bleedin’ unhappy.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
Spike knew that inwardly the pillock was jealous… bloody well eaten alive at the thought that another could achieve some sort of real relationship when he himself was doomed to failure. Angel couldn’t love anyone. He just didn’t have it in him. The man had been broken by someone far stronger in mind before he’d ever come to Sunnyhell. Spike was certain that he didn’t want to meet the girl who’d done it.
No one knew much about Aureli’s early days. What had been left of his personality when Darla caught him in her net was a normal topic on a graveyard stakeout. But all could agree that there was definitely no true affection for any bird. Angel was a cold bastard.
Spike clenched his fists, trying to deter his thoughts from the barrel which faced him. He could smell the scent of fire and metal, and snorted at the irony of it. Before he met Buffy he would have gladly welcomed the opportunity to choose his own death and now that he could, he didn’t want it. All Spike wanted was her.
The Brit laughed at loud, uncaring of how Angel’s hand shook in rage.
“This is serious Will.”
Spike shook his head, gulping air down in large breaths. This is fucking hilarious. He started to speak before collapsing again into a fit of laughter.
Gunn and Wesley shared a look. The bleached blond had finally lost it.
“Buffy is not a girl you want to be involved with Spike.” Angel lowered the gun. He didn’t want to reveal what little information he had but if pressed he would. Spike needed to know the truth at some point. “She’s only going to fuck with your senses. Make you weak.” He spoke the words with contempt, affection for women did nothing for you when staring down at a crumpled body and knowing you had to do the final deed. “Before you know it, she’ll be asking you to leave and then what will happen?” Angel answered the question. “Another fucking Drusillaesque tragedy, that’s what! Buffy’s never been there for you when it-“
Spike reached for the brunette, intent on slamming his head into the seat. He didn’t care about the gun anymore. The git just thinks everything will go his fucking way.
He didn’t count on the fact that Gunn would grab him.
Angel immediately placed the gun against Spike’s temple, grinding the metal into his skin. “I wouldn’t try something like that Will” he said bitterly, “especially when you’re unarmed.”
Spike glared at them all, azure eyes flashing. His voice came out as a deep baritone growl, dark and heavy with intent. “I swear if you talk about her like that Angel, I’ll tear your bleeding head off and piss down your throat.”
“Such nasty words Spike. I almost think that your parents didn’t teach you any manners.” Angel smiled bitterly as Spike sought to throw Gunn’s leaden arms off him. “You’re going to regret going against me boy. I have your best interests at heart.”
“Bollocks!”
Angel ground the gun deeper into Spike’s skull. “I do Will. Buffy Summers is not who she seems. She’s going to make you into a toy. Someone who can't fight for fear that his woman will lock him out of the home. That's no kind of life Spike, and you know it."
He looked at Wesley and Gunn, each bearing an expression of shock. Never had they seen things go so far between the two. Angel nodded at them, knowing that word inevitably carry back to the gang unless he silenced them. The brunette motioned for Gunn to release Spike and then returned his gaze to the Brit.
Neither tore their gaze from the other as Angel placed the barrel next to his temple and pulled the trigger.
Nothing.
Awed Gunn, took the gun from his leader, sharing a look with Wesley as it passed. Both had been positive that Angel would be nothing more than a bloody mess rotting into the van. He pulled the trigger aiming at Wesley with a malicious grin and shot empty rounds.
Angel had been fucking with Spike the entire time.
Spike broke eye contact with Aureli for a moment, shuddering at the sight of Angel with a gun pressed against his head. The git knew exactly what would get to him. He barely registered the hard grip of Angel’s fingers in his shoulder.
The brunette sighed softly, digging deeper into his arm until Spike looked up. “I can learn to accept you caring Spike.” His voice was laden with misery, a small part still desiring Buffy for himself. Spike loving her completely made void any interest he had in her. Such a shame. “She’s already considered yours so nothing should change, but if it does you’ll hear about it.” He turned then, firing up the ignition. He knew Spike well enough to hear the silent agreement. The Brit could love her but if he started to show signs of weakness Angel would have to take care of him. Will already knew it, but it helped to show discipline in front of Gunn and Wesley. Angel fumbled with the radio, blasting it so as to avoid any awkward conversation.
Spike will see things my way.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
sorry for the belated chapter. Thankyou to everyone for the amazing amount of feedback. It helps alot in figuring out where this FF is going.