Buffy looked about herself in amazement. “Wow!”
“What ‘wow’?” Spike gave her a puzzled frown.
“Well, I mean, this,” she gestured to the bar. “It’s really nice. Tasteful!” The bar was all neutral paintwork and clean steel, comfortable leather chairs and soft mood lighting. Customers sat talking quietly at polished wood tables, and soft jazz played in the background.
“Why so surprised?”
“Well, you know, Willy’s bar…”
“That was Willy’s choice. Just ‘cause we’re evil doesn’t mean we haven’t got taste. Besides, you’ve seen some of those presenters on the TV makeover shows. You’re not telling me some of them aren’t demons.” He took her arm.
“Hey!” She frowned at him.
“You don’t want to get yourself killed, you do as I say, OK?” he said quietly, guiding her across the polished wood floor to a shadowed alcove table. “Whatever you think of the décor it’s still a demon bar. Sit. What are you drinking?”
“I dunno. What do the evil guys drink?” Buffy settled herself on the comfortably upholstered chair. “Surprise me.”
Spike leaned down toward her with a leer. “Happy to surprise you, but maybe later. Now what do you want to drink?”
“Beer.” Buffy looked up at him suspiciously.
“Look.” He moved his mouth closer to her ear. “Only reason a non-demon would be in this place with a vampire is if she was a demon groupie. So - act like you’re my date and we’ll be OK.”
“Your what?” Buffy said loudly. Several heads of different shapes, sizes and hues turned in her direction. She smiled weakly at them then turned back to Spike. “No taking advantage!” she hissed.
“Oh, please!” He turned away.
“Don’t be long, honey,” Buffy called after him sweetly. Spike paused in mid stride, grimaced, and then walked over to the bar.
Buffy watched him slide onto a barstool and hold up one of Giles’ notes. A tall, slim, dark woman slunk gracefully up to the bar and draped herself over Spike’s shoulder familiarly, pressing scarlet lips to his cheek. Buffy frowned at her. Hey! Hands off my vampire! She fought down a sudden and unexpected surge of annoyance. The woman whispered something to Spike, watching Buffy slyly. Spike gave her a grin and ran a hand down her back, resting it for what Buffy felt was an inordinately long time on her backside, before giving one cheek a slow squeeze. The woman gave a throaty laugh and Spike picked up his bottles of beer and sauntered back to Buffy, smiling smugly.
“And what was all that about?” Buffy said primly.
Spike handed her a bottle and swung himself into the seat next to her. “She just wondered if she could join us for supper.” He took a pull on his bottle. “You being the supper, naturally,” he added with a smirk.
“She what?” Buffy glared at the dark woman, who smiled languidly back at her.
“Vampire? You’re not much more than a Happy Meal on legs to her. Only without the toy.”
“Oh, nice analogy. Long as you remember you’re not much more than a big pile of dust to me.”
“Spike!” A smiling loose-skinned demon was walking towards them, arms outstretched.
“Clem?” Buffy looked at him in disbelief.
“Clem? You know Clem?” The demon gave her a broad smile. “I’m Clem’s cousin! Of course given the way our families work, we’re all cousins of one sort or another. The name’s Zeb. And Clem and I are pretty much alike to look at, although I think I’m probably the better looking of the two.” He smiled happily. “How on earth did you meet him? Last I heard he was out in a little town in California…”
“So, we got a game tonight?” Spike changed the subject rapidly. Rather not get bogged down explaining how his date met Clem in the recently deceased SunnyD.
“Oh, naturally!” Zeb rubbed his hands together. “Have to say, my dear, your boyfriend plays a mean hand of poker! But perhaps we will get the chance to win back some of our losses. Would you care to join us?”
“Poker?” Buffy gave a mock frown. “That’ll be the one with Mr. Bun the Baker, right?”
Zeb chuckled and turned to Spike. “So. We’ll see you later?” He smiled. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Buffy watched him go. “He seems nice.”
“Yeah.” Spike shrugged. “But he’s not Clem. Just don’t forget – demon.”
“What is it with the British? Even the demons are polite. I’d bet they say “if you don’t mind, old chap” right before they rip your throat out.” Buffy rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, well we’re not all uncouth colonials. Look at me. Suave, sophisticated, urbane…”
“Arrogant, annoying…”
“All part of the charm. Old world demons might look less gung-ho than your new world types, but don’t be fooled. London’s an old city – the evil here, it runs deep. Might be slower to come to the boil, but when it does…” he considered. “Actually, it’s kind of fun.”
“Define fun. No, on second thought, don’t.” She shook her head with a wry smile. He grinned then looked over to the bar where the dark-haired woman and the loose-skinned demon were deep in conversation. Buffy felt a sudden tug of… what exactly? She could see he was attractive. Not that she found him attractive, naturally, she added to herself quickly. But she could see the lean and hungry look might appeal to some. And then there were those really quite striking blue eyes, the whole cheekbone thing, the soft, full lower lip… She was suddenly aware of he was looking at her with a slightly puzzled expression. She looked away quickly and scanned the bar, masking her flush of embarrassment. “So, tell me who’s in and what you know.” She felt a stab of annoyance with herself and with him. Evil undead, remember?
Spike shrugged and cast a surreptitious glance around the bar. “Looks quiet tonight – mainly vamps. There were a couple of the more rowdy elements in last night, but they tend to use the back room.”
“Back room?”
“More your kind of demon bar; big with the gloom and smoke and blood on the floor. That’s where all the deals are done.”
“So, we go in there, right?”
“No. We don’t.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”
“I can look after myself!” Buffy bristled.
“Not against a room full of those types. No way they’d be happy for a human to go in there – well, unless she was the bar snack…” He raised an eyebrow.
“So how are you gonna find out what’s going down?”
“Well, clearly I’m not. Not with you in tow.”
“So what was the point in me coming here?”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “It was your bloody idea!”
“Well, you could have said something!”
“Oh, right! Like you ever listen to what I have to say!”
“This is stupid! I’m going home. You… stay here and do your job.” She got up and made her way across to the door. Spike followed and went to open the door for her. She glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I was just…” He looked at the open door. “Oh, forget it.” He let the door close, and stood in front of it. “Look, you shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone. I’ll come with you.”
“I can look after myself,” Buffy growled.
“I’m not saying…” he began
“I do not need your protection,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want you with me.” She pushed past him and the door swung closed.
Spike turned back to the bar. Every head in the room was turned in his direction. He shrugged. “Women…” There was a general growl of agreement.
******
She stalked angrily along the street. He really was the most irritating, arrogant, annoying … And what annoyed her most was that he seemed to be able to affect her so easily. What was it about him? He thought he could just flash those blue eyes at her and… she slowed her pace. They really were quite remarkably blue… Oh, for heaven’s sake! She quickened her pace again. Vampire! Not attractive! She made her way down a side street, heading in what she hoped was the right direction, too angry with herself to care.
When the big demon grabbed her, she was completely unprepared. He came from behind, remarkably silent for such a large creature, and before she had fully registered his presence she felt the knife at her throat, her arms pinned in a vice-like embrace. “Well, seems the vampire doesn’t want you,” a voice growled in her ear. “Never mind. If he’s not hungry, I certainly am.”
There was sudden grunt and the arms holding her loosened, the knife moving away from her throat. She pushed backwards, unbalancing the demon and spun around in time to see Spike, duster flying, wrestling with the demon, both hands locked around its knife arm. The demon was big - very big - and exceptionally strong. It took both of them to bring him down, to restrain him enough for Spike to drive the knife home. Even then the demon fought on, fending off the attack until suddenly and finally toppling to the ground and lying still. Buffy glanced over at Spike, breathing heavily. She was stunned at how easily they had fought together, how naturally they had synchronised their moves – how easily he’d read her. And that was the frightening bit. He could read her too well – and with a vampire, that couldn’t be to the good.
“That was fun.” He looked over at her with a pleased grin, only to meet a stone-faced glare.
“Are you stalking me? I told you I didn’t want you with me!” Buffy’s voice was harsh with anger.
“Well it’s a bloody good job I was here, wasn’t it, otherwise there would have been one less slayer in the world! Not that the world couldn’t do with losing the odd slayer.” He frowned at her. “And, no, I wasn’t stalking you.”
“So what? You were just passing? Out for a walk, maybe?”
“Out for a…” he paused and shrugged down his anger. “Look, this is my town, OK? You don’t know it like I do. This isn’t Sunnydale.” He sighed. “I was watching your back, is all.”
“Well, I don’t want you watching my back. Believe me, the thought of a vampire at my back does not fill me with confidence.” Anger at Spike was giving way to a realisation of just how close the demon had got. She could feel the sting of the knife point at her throat, smell the creature’s foetid breath. She felt a rush of dizziness and turned away from Spike. “I’m fine.” She moved off rapidly, trying to walk away the fear.
“You’re not fine.” Spike followed, keeping pace with her easily. “Don’t need my finely tuned vampire senses to see that. Look at you, pale as a sheet.”
Buffy snorted. “The words ‘pot’ and ‘kettle’ come to mind.” Her heart was thundering in her chest, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm her. She quickened her pace.
“Slow down! Buffy… Buffy!” He grabbed her arm, forced her to stop. “Stop it.”
She spun around to face him, jaw set.
He sighed. “Look, it was a close call. You’re the Slayer, you’re not supposed to get close calls, right?”
“Life’s one big close call.” Her voice was grim, bitter.
“But not that close.” He smiled softly and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair form her cheek. “It’s OK to be scared.”
She looked up at him, at the gentle compassion in his eyes. She felt the sting of tears, an almost overwhelming urge to rest her head on his chest and cry, to feel a pair of comforting arms around her, to feel safe. Oh, no. Not now; not hardly the time to get an attack of the feebles. Wrong time, wrong place, most definitely wrong man… vampire, she corrected herself; which made this sudden urge all the more worrying and strange and just wrong. She must be a darn sight more tired than she thought she was.
“I was scared. I’m not now. OK?” She turned away from him, and began walking blindly down the street.
He followed, easily keeping pace with her, quietly waiting.
She turned to face him with an exasperated sigh. “Will you go away? Demon dead. Buffy safe. Understand? What do you want?”
Oh, for… Spike felt a surge of anger. “Well, a ‘thank you for saving my life, Spike’ probably wouldn’t go amiss.”
“My life was never in danger.”
“Oh, right. So, what? You were gonna use strength of will to make the knife he had at your throat disappear?” Spike gave an exasperated sigh. “Why are you always so…” He caught himself, growled and shrugged the tension from his shoulders. “Oh, forget it.” He held up a hand and turned to go. “Next time I won’t bother interfering. Let the bugger kill you. Why the hell should I care?”
“Spike!” she called after him. “Wait.”
He stopped and turned back with a sigh. “What?”
“You… your hand.” She gestured. “You’ve cut your hand.” She walked over to him hesitantly and took his hand in hers, turning the palm upwards.
Spike looked at the gash slicing across the centre of his palm. “Bloody knife,” he mumbled. Funnily enough, he hadn’t noticed it before, but now she’d pointed it out it was beginning to sting.
“Here.” She took the silk scarf from around her neck and began to wrap it tightly around his palm.
He watched her concentrate on her task, a small frown creasing her forehead. “You’ll never get the blood out. Take it from someone who knows a bit about blood.” He hardly trusted his voice. This was the first time she’d touched him in anything other than anger since The Immortal’s spell. The touch of her hand on his set his whole body yearning for her, filled his mind with a yammering need that wiped out rational thought.
She smiled and gave a small shrug. “Can’t have you bleeding to death.” She finished tying the scarf. “There.” She held his hand a moment longer, staring at the scarf. “Spike?”
“Buffy?”
She took a deep breath and looked up at him, eyes luminous in the moonlight. “Thank you.”
They stood hand in hand, eyes locked. The cool strength of his fingers in hers was comforting, half-familiar, and for a moment in the moonlight she was lost in the shadows of his eyes, in the feel of his hand, in the stirring of emotions that slipped through her mind when she tried to hold on to them – smoke-faint but resonant. She dropped his hand and looked away in confusion.
He saw the flush of blood rush to her cheeks, the puzzled frown, and felt the faint beginnings of hope. “You know you’re going the wrong way, don’t you?” he said with a crooked smile.
“It’s not the wrong way.” She looked around. “It’s just a different way.”
“Right.” He hesitated. “You want to show me your different way?”
She looked up at him and smiled hesitantly. “OK.” She looked back at the demon. “Do we just leave him there?”
“Well, we aren’t about to take him with us. He’ll disappear, just like all the dead ones in Sunnydale did. Never quite figured out where they go, though.”
“One of life’s great mysteries.” She gave him a shy half-smile. “Like why a two pound box of chocolates makes you put on five pounds.”
“You ate a two pound box of chocolates?”
“What can I say? He stood me up.”
“Did it help?”
“Yeah. Until I threw up.”
“Nice image. Thanks for sharing.”
“You’re welcome.”
They walked home quietly through the dark street, each of them lost in their thoughts.
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