Buffy and Spike headed towards UC Sunnydale campus in tense silence to pick up Willow at the girl’s dorm room. Keeping her mind as blank as possible, she struggled to keep from ‘accidentally’ broadcasting anything that might run through her mind, peeking at her companion every once in a while. She had a sneaking suspicion that Spike was implementing the same behavior, as he hadn’t said a word, a constant blank look on his face. That and the I’m sorry really wigged her out.
Why was Spike sorry? Sorry for being… well… Spike? she casually thought before she could catch herself.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes and harrumphed. “That’ll be the day, Slayer. Not sorry for being what I am.” He pulled out his smokes and lit one up, the nicotine soothing his frayed nerves. Afraid to say anything to offend the Slayer and end up with another bloody nose, he wisely avoided saying much else on why he’d apologized.
Groaning at her slipped thoughts once more, she kept her focus on the sidewalk as their paces ate up the distance to the dorm hall. The sooner she found out what was making her deepest thoughts spring forth like a trumpet to be heard by all, the sooner she could relax and things would get back to normal. Well, as normal as things would ever get in Sunnydale.
A thought occurred to her at that point, one that she closely guarded as it revealed a weakness. It seemed only Spike could hear her thoughts now and the headache was completely gone. She glanced at him once more, hoping he heard nothing of her musings, his features giving away nothing. If he did hear her, he wisely kept it to himself and for that, she was strangely thankful.
They approached the dorm and she fished out her keys, Spike moving to follow her inside. She held her hand up, causing him to back off a bit. “Uh, no offense, but this is one place you don’t have an open invitation to.” She stood blocking the door and he stepped back further.
“Bloody useless, Slayer. It’s a public building… as in many people live here and temporarily I might add. Don’t need an invite - could slip in, real quiet like, and roam the halls. Just need invited into a specific room is all,” he corrected, smirking at her. “And that, would be as easy as pie.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she couldn’t help but laugh a little, thinking of what happened when Riley tried such a maneuver. There really was no comparison. Spike won, hands down.
He cocked his head in curiosity, her laughter catching him off guard. She was trying not to grin, but he knew she would fail, so he graced her with a full-blown smile of his own. The look on his face caused her to let lose a throaty laugh and she shook her head.
“I’ll be back, Spike. Just… just wait here, okay?” He nodded as he watched her enter the ground floor and ascend the steps to another level.
Turning, he pulled out another cigarette, taking in the location of the campus dorm and any trees that might enable him to make good on that little bit of threat he’d just given Buffy. He scanned the building and saw a light on the fourth floor come on as shadows moved across the room.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he whispered, watching the shadow flit from one corner to the other.
Wait a tic. Since when did he think the Slayer was gorgeous? Of course she was a nimble little thing, all athletic with her bouncy golden hair and… oh, bollocks!
Feeling the strain of multiple shocks to the head, he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Right mess he was in. He heard her coming down the steps and moved to join her at the door, noticing that Willow was not with her.
“Red not coming?”
Buffy shrugged. “She’s not up there. Bed’s made, no note or anything… she knew we were going to the Bronze.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s kinda late, maybe she’s already there…” she trailed off, watching as Spike moved towards the courtyard.
The blond vamp paced back and forth, touching the huge oak tree and walking measured steps towards the building, then whirling around to search the ground with hungry eyes.
“Hang… hang on, this - this is it! Wait… no… yes,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you talking about?” She watched him as his agitation grew, his steps becoming more frantic with every movement.
Finally, he stopped and gestured to the ground that was grass covered. “The lab! The Commando lab! The door was right here where I escaped,” he said with absolute certainty, pleading that she believe him.
Staring incredulously at the spot where he was pointing, she slowly shook her head. “I don't think so, Spike. It’s just the lawn.”
He became incensed as he fell to his hands and knees and started tearing at the ground, sending large divots of sod flying through the air.
“Open up! I'm gonna kill you!” he roared at the ground, clawing his way through dirt and gravel.
Great. Now, I have an insane vamp on my hands. One too many knocks to the head and this is what you get.
Her thoughts earned her a harsh glare from the desperate blond, who flung a clump of sod at her and continued digging.
Swatting away the dirt easily, she approached closer and looked in the hole he was digging, see nothing to indicate a military installation. She figured the Commandos would at least have an operation on an army base or something like that, not underground. Way creepy.
“Spike, there's nothing there,” she pointed out, trying not to antagonize him further,
Ignoring her, he stopped and yelled into the small hole he had dug. “Let me in!”
He stuck the upper half of his body in the opening and Buffy had this image of Alice about to fall through the tunnel of the White Rabbit. Shrugging it off, she moved to help extract the vamp when he surprised her, withdrawing on his own to sit back on his knees, huffing and close to tears, his mud-stained hands resting on this legs.
“Fix me,” he whimpered dejectedly.
Another wave of sympathy coursed through her as she knelt down next to Spike and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you up.” She pulled at his arm but he pushed her away.
“Get off!” he snarled.
Stunned, she stepped back and lost whatever compassion his dilemma had garnered. “Okay, that's it! Enough of the martyred victim here - we need to get going. I still need to patrol.” She grabbed his arm and hauled him up.
Running on pure instinct, he jerked his arm free of her grasp and swung around to punch her in the nose… screaming in pain as he clutched his head. He didn’t see the oncoming punch she landed on his aquiline nose until he heard a sickening crunch and pain spread throughout his sinus cavity. He collapsed to the ground, curled into a ball of writhing pain and moaned.
“For fuck’s sake, Slayer!”
“Don’t come near me,” she hissed, rubbing own her tender nose. “I might have to baby-sit your ass, but I’ll turn a blind eye if you just happen to fall on… oh shall we say… a picket fence?” Glaring at him, she touched the bridge of her nose and determined it wasn’t broken.
“I don’t need a god-damned babysitter!” he ground out as he tried mopping up the blood with the dishtowel he’d pinched before leaving Giles’ flat.
Fine. She’d let him fend for himself then. Turning on her heels, she walked away, leaving him knee-deep in mud. Prick, she thought angrily. Last time I try to be all nice and sympathetic.
“Oi! I heard that!” he shouted after her retreating figure.
“Good! I wanted you to!” she yelled back, walking faster up the road.
Two could play this game. Vicious bitch!
He watched her pause for a moment, absorbing his words. Then she continued walking, hoping to hit him right where it hurt. Formerly dangerous, currently annoying shell of a neutered loser.
Pursing his lips, he growled and got up to follow her, knowing the Watcher would stake his arse good if she came to any harm while she was with him. Didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her just as much. Slutty, they vampire layer.
Even though she was several paces ahead of him, Spike watched her come to a dead stop, slowly turning to see him halt in front of her with a smirk. Her lower lip wobbled a moment before she bit it to keep the tears at bay. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“For?”
“Reminding me what you are,” she laughed in a hollow manner. “For a brief nano-second there, I thought you’d changed.”
Shame and anger warred within him. Anger at the whole fucked up situation and shame for causing the tears she was trying desperately not to shed. He knew that last insult would wound her deeply and he’d flung it carelessly, wishing he could just throttle her and stop this feeling that had awakened within him.
“Sorry.”
Such a simple word. But it rocked her coming from him, because he’d been saying it a lot lately. She watched him become flustered and his eyes shift away from hers. Not completely ready to forgive him, she nodded and turned to continue on their journey, not willing to linger on why she even contemplated giving him her forgiveness in the first place.
He ran to catch up with her when he realized she was no longer standing before him, the two making quite a pair walking towards the Bronze. One a bruised, dirty, bloody mess, the other a study in pensive thought, her features extremely pinched.
Carefully guarding her thoughts, she kept trying to go over the whys of Spike’s behavior, coming to no acceptable conclusion as they neared the main part of town. Grousing with herself, she became disgruntled and started chewing on her fingernail as they waited to cross an intersection.
“According to many psychologists, fingernail biting is a sign of stubbornness,” Spike mumbled as he tried to clean off the remaining blood from his face with the towel that he’d stuffed in his duster.
Slowly turning her head, she stared at him, aghast. “I am not stubborn!” she practically spat.
He just looked at her, lips thinned. “Yeah, not gonna touch that one.”
“One more word and I’ll knock you past Jupiter,” she warned, pointing her nail-bitten finger at him.
“After the Sun, the Moon, and Venus, Jupiter is the brightest object in our sky,” he offered, looking up at the night sky, trying to distract her from being so bloody bitchy.
It worked.
“What? Where?” She followed his gaze, completely forgetting that she was angry with him.
He grinned lopsidedly. Who knew the Slayer had a curious streak a mile wide? It was like distracting a magpie with shiny objects, guaranteed to work. He’d have to remember that.
She was scanning the dark night sky in frustration, huffing with irritation. “I… I can’t find it.” She felt him move behind her and lightly grasp her chin and pointed her towards the eastern horizon.
Leaning down he whispered in her ear. “There, pet.” His body was aligned with hers and she felt him reach down with his right hand and grasp her hand, bringing it up to point at the stars. He leaned his head against her temple and started explaining softly.
“Jupiter always appears nearly full `cause the orbit is outside the Earth's. It never exceeds eleven point five degrees, and is almost always close to zero.” He felt her relax and lean into him as he nuzzled into her hair, breathing deeply of her lavender and honey shampoo. God, she smells heavenly.
His nearness shouldn’t be having an effect on her, but when she felt his lips near her ear all she wanted to do was melt against him. She was so languid she barely heard his thought, turning in his arms and bringing her face to face with him… close. “What did you say?”
Looking into her luminous green eyes, he reached out to brush a stray hair away from her cheek, his gaze asking for something neither could voice. He moved closer to her lips, feeling her breathy pants on his face, her brow wrinkling in confusion. Seeing this, he abruptly let her go, taking a step back to diffuse an uncertain situation.
“Ahem,” he coughed.
He sounds like Giles. she thought wistfully, quirking a smile.
“Not like that tweed-wearing, bloody ponce!” he growled, stepping further away from her.
“Damn it! I really need to censure my brain waves,” she groaned, disgusted with herself once again for not blocking her train-wreck of a mind. Sighing, she motioned Spike to continue on to the Bronze.
They crossed several streets before he felt he needed to point out something she might not have considered. “Some serious mojo stirring up trouble, Slayer.”
“How do you know?”
Gently tapping the side of his swollen nose, he smiled wanly. “Can smell it.”
Raising an eyebrow, she decided he couldn’t possibly smell anything with his mangled proboscis. Plus, she didn’t want conversation wandering into uncomfortable territory, so she settled on making small talk.
“Is that the only thing you know about stars?” she asked hesitantly.
“Planets, Slayer… the Sun is a star… the rest, planets,” he corrected.
“Whatever,” she said offhandedly.
He rolled his eyes at her apparent lack of respect for knowledge. “Let’s see… since Neptune was discovered in eighteen forty-six, it’s made about three-quarters of one revolution around the Sun.”
“Uh huh.”
Another eye roll. “One solar day on Mercury lasts about six Earth months.”
“Ouch,” she said flippantly, crossing the street and into the alley near the Bronze.
Spike stood on the corner before entering the crowd milling around the entrance to the bar. “Do you even care what I’m sayin’, Slayer?”
Looking back at him, she shrugged. “Well, I don’t really get any of the stuff you said, so not really big on the uptake,” she explained.
“Uneducated masses,” he muttered. “How about… Pluto is red?”
That had her attention. “I thought Pluto was kinda tan with weird black ears?”
Shaking his head in disgust, he paused before the door. “The plan-et,” he intoned sarcastically. “Not the bloody mutt from those Disney toons.”
“Ohhh…”
“Let’s just get this over with… my noggin’s taken a hell of a beatin’ tonight.” He motioned her ahead of him and they disappeared into the crowded nightclub.
The Bronze was swinging, as usual. Buffy spotted Anya and Xander and filtered through the crowd to their table, Spike in tow. She heard Anya and Xander conversing in heated tones and dropped back a bit to let them finish.
“…If you don't know how I feel about,” Xander was saying before Anya interrupted him.
“I don't! This isn't a relationship… you don't need me! All you care about is lots of orgasms,” she complained.
At that moment, the blond pair sidled up to the table.
Xander became beet red. “Ok... remember how we talked about private conversations and how they're less private when they're in front of my friends?”
The vampire smirked. “Oh, I’m not your friend, Whelp. Do go on.”
Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation. “No, please don't.” She gave a swift kick to Spike’s shin.
Anya went on as if no one told her to stop, which, technically, they didn’t. “This is important!”
“Ahn,” Xander tried to sooth.
“What about us? Our romantic evening?” she pouted.
“Oh do tell,” Spike leered and waggled his eyebrows, just to irritate the Whelp and the Slayer. He had to get his kicks in somewhere.
“Excuse me! Why is Mr. Peroxide Pain in my ass here, Buffy?” Xander had reached his frazzled limit.
Giving an apologetic look, Buffy shrugged and explained, “Giles wanted me to drag him along on patrol.”
Not like he can do anything.
“Oi! Again, heard that, Slayer!” Spike said as his voice rose.
Buffy did a very un-lady like thing and flipped him the bird, turning and ignoring his fuming stare. “Have you guys seen Willow? She was supposed to come with us,” she asked Xander.
“Nah, we’ve been here awhile, but no Will,” he explained.
“Did you hear what happened with Oz?” she said, leaning closer so he could hear her above the music.
Xander shook his head no and both he and Anya leaned in to hear the tale Buffy was telling. Spike sighed and pulled out a smoke and stuck it between his lips, a hand on his arm stopping him from lighting up. Anya shook her finger at him and pointed to the ‘no smoking’ sign that had been placed near the stairs. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long night.
After a few minutes of intense discussion, Xander reared his head back in surprise. “Geez, you mean Oz just sent for his stuff and didn't even call her? That's pretty harsh.”
Anya agreed. “I only wish I had my powers back. I'd liquefy his entrails for her.”
Xander looked askance at her. “That's sweet. God, poor Will. No wonder she's…” he trailed off having caught the unmistakable red bobbing head of Willow…on the dance floor. “…Having a wonderful time,” he said with a frown.
“Wow. Way to rebound,” Buffy said, eyebrows raised. She watched Willow dance up a storm with whomever she came in contact with.
“What? Are you people blind? She's hangin' on by a thread. Any ninny can see that,” Spike scoffed, appalled at the lack of observation from Willow’s so-called friends.
“As much as it pains me to say this, Spike is right. I do believe that's the dance of a brave little toaster,” Xander confirmed.
“Since when did you have any insight to Willow, Spike?” Buffy glared at him as he fidgeted.
“Not hard to do, Slayer…you just-”
Spike was interrupted by Willow sloshing her Rum and Coke all over his duster, stumbling as she reached the table. A smile was plastered to her face.
“Oh sorry, Spike! My bad… `hic… it’ll wash right off,” she muffled into his leather covered arm. The group held their breath, waiting to see if the vamp would retaliate, knowing how much he loved his prized duster.
Instead, he shocked them.
Gently, he steered Willow to a chair and plopped her down, taking the drink out of her hand. “Sit down, luv.” He took her hands in his and looked at her bleary-eyed expression. He brushed her bangs off of her nose and smiled at her. “Bit pissed?”
“Pissed?” Willow frowned
“Drunk,” Spike clarified.
Willow laughed. “Drunk… that's such a-a strong word. Kind of a harsh, guttural, Anglo-Saxon word - drunk,” she giggled and reached for her drink.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Spike chastised, moving the alcohol away from her grasping hands.
“But that’s my Rum and Coke,” she pouted.
“Rum’s an alcohol distilled from molasses and sugarcane juice, both of which are by-products of the process used to turn sugarcane into refined sugar. And Coke? Well that shit’ll rot your pretty little brain there, Red,” he admonished as he tapped her forehead.
Even in her drunken state, Willow was taken by surprise. “Woah, that’s a neat trick…`hic… you got there, Spike. Go on, do another drink!” She bounced up and down clapping her hands.
The blond vampire stunned the others at the table. Willow was hanging on his arm, laughing loudly, and he accepted her irritating behavior as if he’d known her forever. Anya watched him with a renewed interest as Xander gazed at his sad, desperate best friend and cringed, wondering how Spike was able to reach her in a way he could not. He’d have to explore why he wasn’t feeling more animosity towards the bleached pest, instead thinking he’d make a great pool partner. And Buffy. Well she felt a little of that green monster rear its head and she grimaced. Its only because Willow was so trashed she reasoned with herself, knowing she wasn’t going to buy that one any time soon.
“Tell us about Gin,” Anya piped up. She loved Gin and tonics.
“Ahn!” Xander scolded, darting his eyes to Spike.
He returned Xander’s stare evenly as he answered his girlfriend. “Gin’s a distilled grain alcohol flavored with juniper berries. Sloe gin is gin flavored with sloe berries from the blackthorn bush instead of juniper.”
Xander gaped at the vampire, who now had a snoozing and drooling Willow lying against his shoulder. “Whiskey,” he prompted.
Spike grinned and nodded at Xander in approval. “Now that’s what I’m on about, mate!” He drained Willow’s abandoned drink, seeing as she wasn’t going to need it anymore.
“There are three different kinds, yeah? The word itself comes from the Gaelic ‘usquebaugh,’ meaning ‘water of life’. It’s distilled from fermented grains such as barley, rye, corn, wheat, or a combination. In old Eire and the US, whiskey is spelled with an ‘e.’ In Scotland, Canada, and Japan, it’s spelled ‘whisky.’”
Xander and Anya were totally spellbound, hanging on every word Spike uttered. Buffy just scoffed. She’d seen him do stuff like this all night.
“Now Scotch is whiskey made in Scotland. And, according to international law, only whiskey made in Scotland can be called Scotch,” Spike continued as he ordered himself a bottle of the aforementioned topic.
“And Bourbon… that’s American whiskey of the type originally made in Bourbon County, Kentucky. It’s made from seventy percent corn and thirty percent wheat, rye, or other grains. Tennessee whiskey is similar to bourbon, `cept it’s made in, well… Tennessee. Its filtered through a ten-foot layer of maple charcoal which gives it a milder, distinctive flavor,” he finished with a posh flair.
Xander and Anya clapped their hands and asked for more. Buffy just leaned her chin on her palm and watched them all interact, finding a strange, comfortable peace wash over her. She glanced at Willow, who was contentedly dozing on Spike’s right shoulder, and smiled to herself.
Maybe he has changed. she mused, knowing Spike would be the only one to hear her.
He did hear, but gave no indication to the others that he had, daring a glance in her direction. She gave him a hesitant smile as he continued on, his heart lighter with the small amount of trust she’d given him.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Direct quotes from "Something Blue" and "Hush." Thanks to Zoe (Katkin) for letting me natter her ear off during the week. She has a lovely story, "Superstar and the Single Mom," and she would just love a review! **Any and all facts come from the series "Uncle John's Bathroom Reader" which is full of trivial knowledge!**