“A date?” Dawn looked at Buffy open mouthed. “He asked you out on a date?“
“Hey! Don’t sound so surprised! I’ll have you know I’m a frisky vixen!”
“You’re not going, are you?”
“Well…”
“He’s a watcher!”
“A young, hot watcher. With an earring. It’s not like I’m thinking of going on a date with Giles or anything.”
“Well, maybe, but won’t it be like dating your teacher?”
“No!” Buffy pouted “Giles likes him.”
“Huh. Well, he would.” Dawn folded her arms and snorted.
“Why are you so down on him? It’s not like you’ve ever met him.”
“It’s just… he doesn’t sound like your type.”
“And my type is?” Buffy raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Oh! Well… I dunno.” Dawn ended lamely.
“Nope, me neither. So I’m going to start my exhaustive survey of types with English, educated, employed and not evil. OK? Now, you gonna help me chose something to wear?”
“Tweed.” Dawn followed Buffy out of the kitchen.
“Tweed?”
“English upper class, right? He’s bound to go for tweed. Maybe with one of those scarves that Queen Elizabeth wears – with the horsy things all over it. Oh! And Wellington boots.”
“I think it’s time we worked on your stereotypes.” Buffy shook her head. “I was thinking more the little lacy, red number.”
“Well, that’ll be nice…” Dawn gave her an evil grin. “…if you’re going for hooker.”
******
“It’ll have to do.” Buffy frowned at her reflection in the hall mirror, nervously smoothing her hair.
“You look fine.” Dawn examined her critically. “But I don’t know why you are so worried. He probably doesn’t get out much, anyway. Too busy watchering. He’d probably be impressed if you wore a sack.”
“Will you stop!” Buffy gave an exasperated sigh. “Now, where’s my bag? Oh! Study! Look, I’m sure he’s a very nice man and…oh!” She almost ran into Spike as he tried to leave the study just as she tried to enter. “Spike!” She gave him an embarrassed smile.
“You look nice.” He smiled, and thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Oh, thanks!” She looked down at her blouse. “You don’t think maybe too tarty?”
“Hardly at all. Heard you got a date.”
“Yes. Why does everyone find that so surprising?”
“I don’t.”
“Oh. You should try it. The going out thing, I mean. I mean, there's that girl at the bar.” The cheap-looking one, she found herself thinking ungraciously.
“Oh, yeah, right. There's always girls who like the look - bad boy, you know.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” She looked up at him with an awkward smile.
He drew a breath. “You should go. You don't wanna be late.”
“No. Right. I… erm… yes…” She bent down to pick up her bag. “See you both later, maybe.”
“Yeah.” Spike watched the front door close behind her. “Later.”
Dawn came to stand next to him. “You OK?”
He gave a wry smile. “Just got the strongest sense of déjà vu. Have you spoken to Xander lately? He hasn’t recently met a woman with a hint of demon and a knife, has he?”
“It’ll never work out, you know. Buffy and the watcher, I mean.” She added quickly as Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Can’t see it myself. He’ll just be a younger version of Giles.”
“And how dull would that be? He’ll probably just want to talk books all night.”
“Buffy’d love that.” He paused, then went on casually. “You… erm… heard from Willow yet?”
“No, but she only went down there a week or so ago. Give her time. She wants to get it right.” Dawn rested her hand on his arm. “She’ll do this. She’ll figure it out.” She gave him her best puppy dog eyes. “So. You going out, too?”
Spike looked at the door. There was the temptation… no. Leave them alone. “Nah. Think I’ll have a night in with my number one girl.”
Dawn glowed. “Yeah? Neat! I vote film and popcorn and the comfy sofa.”
“OK. But nothing soppy. No ‘love conquers all’ crap.”
“Aww…”
“Hey! Big bad, here! You wanna ruin my reputation completely?”
“What reputation? Said it before – I’m badder than you are!”
“Are not!” He followed her into the kitchen. “You’d better watch yourself, missy, or I’ll make you watch Titanic.”
“You wouldn’t!”
Spike grinned. “Now who’s bad?”
******
Buffy tiptoed up to the kitchen window quietly. It wasn’t particularly late, but she needed to know who was lying in wait – she really didn’t think she wanted the third degree on the date from Dawn. The kitchen light was on, but it was Spike sitting at the kitchen table, alone and quietly reading. She watched him turn a page, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. She could see the title of the book – an anthology of poetry. He really was big with the surprising. The past few days he had just quietly been there, naturally at her side - helping Giles in the Council library, translating texts and classifying artefacts and generally riling Giles as only he seemed able, teaching some basic moves to the young slayers - and judging by the giggling and blushing from some of them, making a few conquests… She frowned. Need to have a word with them about that. He’d even cooked for them one night, much to her bemusement. Aided and abetted by Andrew, egged on by a giggling Dawn, the result had been pretty much inedible, but he’d tried, and he’d managed to resist killing Andrew, despite what sounded like pretty strong provocation. It had taken hours to get the food stains off the walls.
She could only assume he was still getting his evil on with his friends down at the demon bar every night, because this really couldn’t be normal behaviour given the circumstances. Vampire evil, vampire not to be trusted, only good vampire is a dusted vampire - all the slayer certainties. But not, it seemed, for him. Within a few days he was fitting seamlessly into their lives – into her life – as if he’d always been there. It was disconcerting, the easy way he was around her, the way he seemed to be able to read and understand her so well. But then it was even more disconcerting the way she was around him. And how confusing was all this getting?
He looked up and caught her watching him. Oh. Vampire senses. She gave an embarrassed smiled and wiggled her fingers at him.
He watched her as she came inside, trying to pretend to himself that he wasn’t checking for signs of watcher kissage, surreptitiously checking the clock and restraining a stab of triumph because it was barely eleven. Can’t have been that good, then, this date. He worked on keeping his smile neutral.
“Hi!” Buffy gave him a bright smile. “You’re not out doing the ‘creature of the night’ thing, then?”
“Nope. Thought I’d give the creaturing a miss and have a quiet night in.” He put the book he was reading down on the table. “So, how was your date?”
“It was – nice.” Buffy sat opposite him at the table. “He was – nice.”
“Nice, huh?” Spike nodded. “Well, that’s really… nice.”
“Mmm.” Buffy pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a smile. “We went to a very nice restaurant, and he told me all about his hobbies. He collects Star Wars memorabilia, goes to all the cons.”
“Oh, right.” Spike tried to look impressed. “You should introduce him to Andrew.”
“They’d get on like a house on fire. Then we went for a stroll along the embankment and he walked me home. It was…” she hesitated.
“Nice?” Spike offered.
“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “You know, I think Andrew was probably more his type! I don’t think he really knew what to make of me. I’m not sure what worried him more – me not knowing what a Millennium Falcon was or me being a slayer. I think he probably needs a nice, normal Darth Vader-loving girl.”
“Maybe one who wouldn’t mind dressing up like Princess Leia.”
“That would probably be a bonus.”
“So – are you seeing him again?” Spike asked nonchalantly.
“I… well, maybe.” She shrugged, then grinned. “He asked if I wanted to go to an all night Star Wars showing.”
“The guy sure knows how to show a girl a good time.”
“Well, at least he doesn’t take his date to a demon bar.” She caught his look. “Oh! Not that… I mean, you and me… it wasn’t a date exactly… not really… strictly business… I wasn’t… and…” she stumbled to an embarrassed halt as Spike raised an eyebrow. “Oh! I think I hear Dawn! I should go see her.” Buffy got to her feet quickly. “Tell her… about…” she gestured vaguely. “Well, goodnight.” She bolted.
Spike watched her go with a bemused smile. He shook his head and picked up his book again. He tried to concentrate on the words and the rhythm of the verse, but instead he found himself going over and over the conversation with Buffy, looking for clues, hints, anything to keep the hope alive. He threw the book down with a disgusted snort. Bloody hell! How old are you? Will you stop with the lovesick teenager routine? He stood up and made for the cellar steps.
Later, when Buffy came back to the kitchen to make hot chocolate she felt a sharp stab of disappointment to find him gone. She walked slowly over to the cellar steps, and peered down into the basement. Her eyes confirmed what her senses already told her. Spike had gone out. She sighed and went over to the table and picked up his book. She looked over at the jar of chocolate. Actually, if she was being strictly honest with herself, she didn’t really want any. Taking the book with her, Buffy headed for bed.
******
Spike woke to the metallic smell of pig blood. Dawn and his early morning cuppa, he thought turning over in bed, opening his eyes with a smile. “’Morning, nibblet… Oh! Buffy!” Not Dawn. He sat up quickly and looked around for his T-shirt.
“Oh! Sorry I just thought… I brought you…” Buffy stood, mug in hand, trying to look unaffected by the undeniably striking sight of a semi-naked Spike. She watched him reach down to pick up his T-shirt and felt her eyes drawn to the working of the muscles in his arms and back, the smooth planes of his chest above the rippled muscle of his stomach as he shrugged the shirt on. She froze. Something stirred in the recesses of her brain, something that answered a sudden surge of heat in the pit of her stomach. A memory of something? A dream? She tried to hold on to it, to define it. Something to do with Spike?
“Are you OK?” Spike was looking at her in concern, T-shirt in place.
The feeling passed. “Yeah. Fine.” She looked down at the mug as if she had only just noticed it. “Oh! Here.”
Spike took it from her. “You didn’t have to do this.” He put it down carefully on the table.
She watched him, wondered at the way he seemed to feel so uncomfortable drinking in front of her. “Terms and conditions. Free blood and lodgings. Look – I don’t mind. You should get it while it’s warm. Really. I’m beyond getting squicked by blood, and it’s not like I haven’t seen you drink the stuff before.”
Spike gave her a sharp look. Actually, she hadn’t – not in London. “Where’s the nibblet?” he asked carefully, taking a sip from the mug.
“Dawn and Andrew went to the Council with Giles. Andrew’s anxious to try out his new martial arts skills on one of the new slayers and Dawn went with him because she said she needs a good laugh. I’m just lurking and avoiding following them.” She bit her lip and gave Spike a worried look. “Giles has given me a dangerous and important assignment.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. He wants me to go down to the Council cellars and help with the unpacking of the books. Good to know years of slayer training has finally come into its own.”
“Dangerous stuff.”
“You betcha. Might break a nail opening one of the boxes. Or maybe get a nasty paper cut. Those things sting.”
“So, who are you helping with the unpacking? Your date gonna be there?” Despite his best efforts, there was note of disdain in his words.
“No. Maybe.” Buffy hesitated. “You wanna come with?”
Spike looked up at her in surprise. “Me?”
“Yeah.” She blushed and tried to make light of it. “Might need your help. There might be… spiders or something. Or boxes to lift or… look, it was just a thought.”
“No,” Spike said quickly. “Happy to fight spiders for you.”
“Good.” Buffy thrust her hands into her jeans pockets with an embarrassed smile. “Let’s go then. Shall we take the bus or use Council expenses and go for a cab - sorry - taxi?”
“Might be advisable to go for the taxi, given the lack of darkness.” Spike gave her a lopsided smile.
“Oh! Yes, right. Sorry.” The effect that particular smile had on her was becoming alarming. She shook herself. “Taxi it is.”
“What our story today? Rare sunlight allergy or Michael Jackson?”
“I vote elephant man.” Buffy grinned.
“I am not an animal! I am a human being! I...am...a man!” Spike said theatrically.
“What?” Buffy looked at him in horror. “I didn’t… I mean…”
“Quote. John Merrick? The Elephant Man?”
“Oh, right.” She gave him an abashed grin. “Sorry.”
They looked at each other awkwardly. “I’ll be up in a minute.” Spike said eventually.
“In a minute?”
“I’m not exactly…” he gestured to his jeans draped over a chair. “Need to get dressed. ‘Course if you want to stay…”
Buffy flushed violently. “To that a world of no.” She retreated rapidly. “Don’t forget your blanket!” she called from the top of the stairs.
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