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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know there's no dance floor at Per Se, but I wish there was!

Hope everyone enjoys the chapter and please, please review!
Besides the guest of honor, Spike was the last one to arrive. He entered the restaurant apprehensively, feeling swallowed by both his apprehension and the muted blues that covered every surface. Speaking quietly to the host, he was directed to a round table in the corner where Oz and Willow were seated, chatting amiably with a lovely dark-haired woman. Spike took a seat across from them and next to the woman he assumed must be Drusilla, leaving two empty seats to his right and hoping that Buffy and not Angel would take the chair next to him.

As he took his place, Dru turned to him, an intimate look flickering across her face. “I know who you are,” she smiled slightly and offered him her hand, palm down in the European fashion.

With a bemused look at Oz and Willow, he gallantly took the proffered fingers and raised the hand to his lips, barely making contact with her skin. An odd sense of déjà vu swept over him, and he quickly released her and sat down, shaking his head slightly to clear it.

Drusilla laughed, amusement now evident in her big dark eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite,” she said.

“Right,” Spike said confusedly.

“So, Spike,” Willow broke in, trying to bring the conversation back to something more normal. She quite liked Drusilla, but the odd interaction between her and the blond man was a little unnerving. “What did you get Buffy for her birthday?”

Spike smiled and gestured at the wrapped present he had placed on the table. “You’ll have to wait and see.” He was really proud of his gift; it had taken some effort to find and was worth a pretty penny, although probably only Buffy and her boss would realize its value.

The redhead grumbled good-naturedly. “Why do I have to wait? I’m not the birthday girl…” she broke off suddenly, her face lighting in a smile. “They’re coming!”

Spike looked over at the entrance, catching his breath at the sight of Buffy, beautiful in a green silky dress. One that he just knew he could feel the warmth of her skin through…She looked up at her husband and smiled, and Spike’s heart clenched. Right. Not his to touch. Just friends. Bloody hell, this was going to be a very long evening.

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Angel was being very charming. He was already waiting downstairs when she arrived at his office, instead of making her phone up for him and stand uncomfortably in the lobby for fifteen minutes. He complimented her dress. He gave her the choice of catching a cab or walking the few blocks, and when she timidly suggested the walk, he took her arm to safely steer her around errant pedestrians. During the ten minute stroll, he kept up a patter of effortless conversation, almost lulling Buffy back into the rhythms of their earlier relationship, when it had been easy to talk to him. She actually started to look forward to the rest of the evening. Maybe this was what they needed. Time alone outside of the house, with no distractions.

Inside the quiet, cool interior of the restaurant, Angel stepped behind her to help remove the light jacket she was wearing over her dress. “Now, Buffy,” he began as he gently pulled it down her arms, sweeping her hair back into place when it was clear. “I know you’re not overly fond of surprises, but I thought, since it was your birthday…”

She gave him a puzzled look but allowed him to lead her deeper into the restaurant. A flash of red hair from a corner table caught her eye. “Angel, Willow and Oz are here. We should go and say hi…” she trailed off as her husband smiled broadly.

“Happy birthday, Buffy.” He kissed her cheek gently. “I thought it would be nice to get together with some of your friends to celebrate.”

Okay, so they wouldn’t be alone, but it was really sweet of him to invite her new friend…As they drew closer, she noted with some surprise that Drusilla was also at the table, next to – Oh, no. He wouldn’t have. Apprehension swept through Buffy as she found herself staring into Spike’s intense blue eyes. But why shouldn’t her husband have invited another of her new acquaintances? As far as he knew, she and Spike were just friends.

They were at the table now, and Buffy was quietly trying to keep from hyperventilating. This was not a good idea. Angel was greeting their guests and holding out her chair when Spike again caught her eye.

“Breathe,” he mouthed, a teasing smile playing around his lips. Even though he understood her consternation, she was so cute when she was flustered that he couldn’t help smiling as she dropped into the chair next to him. And hey, she was sitting next to him. Of course, Angel was on her other side, but still…

Taking his advice and inhaling deeply, Buffy gathered herself back together and returned his smile.

“Hi,” she said in a small voice.

“Hi,” he replied. “Happy birthday.”

“Surprised, Buffy?” Dru caught her attention from Spike’s other side.

“Very,” she playfully reproved her boss. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this afternoon!”

“And ruin the fun?” Drusilla smiled, raising her eyebrows.

“Happy birthday, Buffy!” Willow squealed from across the table.

“I’m glad you could come, Wil, and you too, Oz,” Buffy said to her enthusiastic friend. Oz smiled in his laid-back manner and added his more reserved birthday wishes.

“Now that everyone has met, and Buffy’s recovered from my little surprise,” Angel smiled at his wife and Buffy smiled back.

Spike felt like he had been punched in the stomach. His beautiful girl was smiling at that wanker of a…..husband. Right.

“I suggest we go ahead and order some champagne to celebrate,” Angel continued. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering the chef’s tasting menu for the table, if that’s satisfactory?” Everyone nodded in agreement, except for Spike who was still scowling at the floor. Angel smiled, just a little. “And please don’t worry about the check. The evening is, of course, on me.” He beamed benevolently at the table.

Oz glanced at Spike and sardonically raised an eyebrow, to which Spike could only shake his head. Angel did know who they were right? The two men could easily afford the cost of dinner, even in this overpriced place. Catching the exchange, Willow elbowed Oz and gave Spike a warning glare.

“Thank you, Angel, that’s very considerate,” she said out loud.

Champagne was ordered and poured, and the conversation moved easily along, mostly thanks to Willow, who seemed determined to make the evening nice for Buffy’s sake. Spike didn’t say much, unable to keep from noticing every single opportunity that Angel took to touch his wife. He squeezed her hand, brushed hair from her cheek, caressed her knee under the table, all with a little smirk in Spike’s direction. Oh yeah, he knew all right.

Spike didn’t even realize how tightly he was gripping his glass, fingers fisted tightly around the stem and muscles corded with tension in his arm, until he felt a cool hand stroke his skin, gently but insistently pressing down on his arm to make him lower it to the table.

“Relax,” Drusilla said softly, lips curving in a sly smile. “Don’t let him know it’s bothering you.”

“It’s a little difficult,” he grumbled, but conceding the woman’s point, he smiled back at her and tried to release some of the tension from the arm she was still gently caressing.

Buffy caught the interaction with a frown. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she didn’t like the way Spike was smiling at her boss, and letting her rub his arm. She was already having a hard enough time trying not to dodge Angel’s unusually overt displays of affection. A bolt of jealousy lodged in her stomach, making it clench painfully as she watched Dru’s hand lingering on top of Spike’s and saw her smile up at him and laugh. A moment later, Spike turned to her, but she ignored him, bestowing a dazzling, if somewhat brittle smile of her own on her husband and surprising him by nuzzling into his hand when he brushed a lock of hair off her forehead.

Spike looked at her for a moment with hurt, hooded eyes, before, with a slim hand on his chin, Drusilla insistently drew his attention back to her. The first course arrived, followed shortly by the second, and throughout the meal two of the three couples engaged in general conversation. But Spike and Dru remained in a little bubble of their own, conversing in tones too low for the rest of the table to hear. Oz and Willow occasionally threw curious glances their way, but both were a little relieved that Spike seemed to have found someone who might alleviate his fascination with Buffy.

As for Buffy herself, she was resolutely not looking at them. She smiled and laughed with her husband and friends, and a casual observer might have thought her perfectly happy, but Willow noticed that her eyes were too bright, and her food virtually untouched.

When the plates were all cleared and the group was waiting on dessert, a band began playing in the corner of the restaurant, something soft and sweet, and several couples drifted onto the dance floor. “Dance with me?” Buffy asked Angel with a smile. She knew she was flirting with her husband, but Spike’s attention to Dru hurt so much that concentrating on him was the only form of relief she could think of. Not that it was helping much.

Angel returned her smile but shook his head. “Not right now, Buff,” he said. “You know I’m not really into that.”

For the first time in awhile, Dru turned her attention to someone other than the blond man on her right. “If you would like to dance, Buffy, I’ll loan Spike to you for a few minutes. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” she said sweetly, urging Spike up and out of his chair.

Confusedly, Spike rose and nodded.

“That’s okay,” Buffy tried to back out of the situation, but before she could completely renege, Angel interrupted, with a small, gloating smile directed at Spike.

“Go ahead and dance with my wife. As a favor to me,” he said magnanimously.

Silently, Buffy followed Spike to the dance floor in the corner.

“Buffy, luv,” he breathed, putting his arms around her and smiling down into her eyes. It was a sweet relief to be able to touch her. “I didn’t think I was going to get a moment alone with you tonight.”

Buffy remained silent, keeping her eyes averted to a spot somewhere over his shoulder and not allowing her body to relax into his like it desperately wanted to.

“Kitten,” he frowned. “Is something wrong? It’s okay, we’re supposed to be dancing together, nobody will think anything…” He trailed off when she shook her head, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry to drag you away from the table like this,” she said in a clipped voice.

“You’re not-“

“Sorry to drag you away from Drusilla.” Her voice tripped over the name, even though it was one she spoke almost every day, and the words were infused with a venom which she had never directed toward the older woman, or anyone else, before.

“Dru?” Spike stopped and almost smiled before the unfairness of it all hit him. She was jealous. She was bloody jealous!

Looking around quickly, he grabbed her hand and drug her off the dance floor and out through the propped open exit door. They were in an alley now, behind the restaurant, the sounds of conversation and music barely drifting out from inside.

Once outside, he released her and she instantly brought her arms up to cross around herself, physically trying to hold the pain in. She had spent an entire evening watching another woman flirt with him and it hurt more than she ever thought possible.

“Buffy,” he turned to her, voice tense with barely controlled emotion. For the first time ever, he was angry with her. “You don’t get to be jealous of Dru. You don’t have the right.”

“Don’t have the-“ Buffy choked off her words, the first hint of tears peeking out of her green eyes. “I thought you loved me,” she said in a smaller, softer voice.”

“I do,” Spike cried. “Do you think Drusilla, or anyone, means a thing to me right now? You want to be “just friends,” and I’m trying, I really am, but god help me, Buffy, it’s still all about you.” He closed his eyes briefly, trying to get a handle on his emotions. “And you don’t get to be jealous.”

“Do you have to flirt with her right in front of me?” Her own anger was finding its way into Buffy’s voice, and she threw the question at him fiercely.

“Do you have to kiss your husband right in front of me?” He flung back at her.

Suddenly exhausted, Buffy hung her head, letting the tears come. He was right. Completely and totally right. Spike didn’t belong to her, and if Dru wanted to flirt with him, she had every right. And he had every right to respond.

As always, her tears pricked Spike’s heart. Gently, he touched her face, catching the little drops of moisture on his thumbs and wiping them away. “D’you know what we talked about, me and Dru?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

“You. The whole time, we were talking about you.” He sighed, allowing himself to finally take comfort from her closeness. She mumbled something, lips pressed into his fingers. “What, sweetheart?”

“I love you.” She said it softly, almost reluctantly, but admitting it felt wonderful, cleansing almost. She hadn’t allowed herself to think it before tonight, that this constant longing for him might be real love, but seeing him with another woman had brought her feelings into achingly sharp focus.

Spike couldn’t breathe. Buffy loved him. While freely admitting his feelings for her, he hadn’t really expected her to reciprocate, at least not verbally, not under these circumstances. Now, no matter what, he had that. Silently, he thanked Dru and her tactics, underhanded though they might have been, he had no doubt about what she had been up to.

Unable to stop himself, he kissed her, oh so softly. Neither tried to deepen the kiss, but just took it for what it was, and allowed their lips to linger, gently pressed together, in silent communion.

“Now what?” he asked quietly when they broke apart.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

He turned away from her. “I’m going away for a few days,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall her protests. “We’ve got a break from recording, and I’m going to go somewhere, maybe up into the mountains. I need to get away, Buffy,” he pleaded for her to understand.

“And when you get back?” she asked, timidly.

“I don’t know.”

They stood facing one another, eyes locked, the noise from the restaurant and the street beyond only a dim buzz in their ears. They stood looking into one another, all their shared moments, every caress and kiss, every endearment humming between them, and realized that they truly had no idea where to go from here.





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