Four
“Buffy?” Footsteps sounded on the rooftop, following Dawn’s voice. “Spike?” She rounded the shed, coming to a stop when she found them. “Hey. Giles and Willow got some info.”
They were standing only a couple of inches apart, and had obviously been talking about – or doing something – serious, because their faces had funny expressions. If Dawn didn’t know better. . . Wait. Maybe it was guilt.
“Right. Thanks, bit.” Spike waited for a moment, hoping she’d go away and leave him alone with Buffy, but Dawn didn’t leave.
“Sun’s gonna be up soon, Spike. Maybe you should go inside.” It was obvious now that Dawn wanted to talk to her sister, and he grudgingly took the hint.
“Yeah.” He drawled out the word. “I’ll go. Don’t stay out too long.”
He was gone in a swirl of black leather. Dawn looked at Buffy, whose eyes followed Spike’s retreat. “You okay?”
“I’m fine, Dawnie.” Buffy moved closer to the parapet, leaning her elbows on the cool brick. “Just kinda tired.”
“I’m sorry. About everything. I didn’t know.” Dawn followed her, coming to stand right beside her sister. “You know he’s a good guy, for a vampire. He took care of me all summer, made sure I ate and protected me.”
“Really?” Buffy sort of half-turned, her eyes still focused away from Dawn, but more engaged in the conversation.
“Yeah. Really.” She fiddled with her sleeves, then glanced over shyly at her sister. “You know it would be okay if you got together.”
“He’s a vampire, Dawn.”
The words exploded out of the younger Summers. “Please. Angel was a vampire. And don’t gimme that crap about Spike not having a soul. It’s not like he really needs one. He’s done a helluva lot more for us – for me – without a stupid soul. He’s not like the others, Buffy. Not like Angel or Riley.”
“No, he’s not.”
“So it would be okay if you were with him.”
“I’m not with him.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Dawn paused, eyeing her sister’s stiff posture. “You should see it from my point of view.”
Buffy did look at her then. “What do you mean your point of view?”
Her soft soprano filled the air, and Buffy forced herself to listen, to not tune out the words. “Hands touch, eyes meet. Sudden silence, sudden heat. Hearts leap in a giddy whirl. He could be that boy, you are so that girl.”
But Buffy was shaking her head, denying what her sister was singing about. Pointing at herself, she sang, “Don't dream too far, don't lose sight of who you are. Don't remember that rush of joy. He could be that boy, I'm not that girl.” Tears filled her eyes as she kept singing, “Ev'ry so often we long to steal, to the land of what-might-have-been. But that doesn't soften the ache we feel, when reality sets back in.”
Dawn reached out to brush away her sister’s tears. “Blithe smile, lithe limb, she who's winsome, she wins him. Gold hair with gentle curl, that's the girl he chose, and heaven knows, you are that girl.”
Breaking away from Dawn, Buffy wrapped her arms around her middle, holding on tightly. “Don't wish, don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart, I wasn't born for the rose and pearl. . . .”
Her sister countered her, “There's a girl I know, he loves her so. . . . You are so that girl.”
Their hands clasped and Dawn smiled at Buffy once more wiping away the tears.
“Could we lose the ruffles?” Xander was no longer above begging. In fact, he figured there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to get rid of the ruffles. The pink wasn’t so bad, not compared to the purple lace he’d had on earlier. But the ruffles. . . . the ruffles were just unmanly.
“No can do, sweetums. Ruffles or lace. Your choice.” The demon grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the mirror. “Personally, I like the purple.”
“Ahhhh! No. No purple. I’ll. . . I’ll live with the pink.” Shaking his head, Xander finally stopped short when he realized where the demon was taking him. “Where are we going?”
“To the club. Don’t you pay attention to anything?”
“I’m trying to block all this out and pretend it’s really some bizarre dream. You know, the kind you get from eating shrimp and then ice cream.”
A laugh gurgled up from the demon’s belly, and Xander hoped maybe he was winning the demon over. Those hopes were dashed when the demon forced him out into the main living area. “You have no choice in this. Your presence is required at the club.”
“Damn. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of it? Maybe we could stay in and play backgammon or something. Got any board games? Monopoly?” Board games brought the thought of Anya to the forefront of his brain, and Xander wondered what was going on back home. How much time had passed? Would he be able to get home? What about the gang? Would Buffy be up for a rescue?
Buffy. Xander didn’t have time to process the big reveal from the night before, what with waking up and being kidnapped in his sleep. They’d stolen her from heaven. Maybe this was his punishment for helping. Stuck in a Broadway nightmare.
Oh, God. I’m stuck here. I don’t know if anyone’s gonna be able to get me out. Oh . . .
Xander was panicking so much that he didn’t realize they’d left the apartment and were walking down a set of dark stairs. Nor did he realize he could hear the sounds of a band tuning up and getting ready to play.
What the hell is happening to me?
Suddenly Xander was very afraid.
The fear didn’t lessen when he entered the club. There were demons of every shape, size and gender watching the floor show, which consisted of, at the moment, a female demon singing Someone to Watch Over Me. A small orchestra was behind her, just like those old black and white movies, and Xander stared open-mouthed at some of the clientele.
Demons outnumbered real humans by almost two to one, making him very uncomfortable. Most of the humans were female, and they seemed to be paired up with demons of indeterminate gender. Xander had no clue what kind of a place he’d been brought too, and part of him wasn’t very eager to know. He managed to keep his panic at bay until the demon lead him to a table, right in front of the audience, and sat him down.
“You stay right here, sugar. Boss man’ll be out in a jiffy.”
The torch singer finished to loud applause and the house lights came up, illuminating the scene. Xander tried hard not to look at all the demons, knowing how alone and vulnerable he was. The crowd buzzed with excitement, and hardly anyone left their seats. From the table directly behind him, he could overhear the whispers about the change in the playbill for the night.
“It’s so unusual for him to perform. He doesn’t usually do it anymore, not since he brought that singer back. . . I’m soo excited!” a female gushed, her voice thick with anticipation.
“I know, my dear. I’m very glad we had tickets for tonight.” Her companion, obviously a male, spoke softly, “Now, doll, keep it planted while I go see a man about a deal.”
The male left, and he could hear the woman humming, but Xander didn’t turn around, didn’t move, until a waiter appeared at his side. He presented a bottle of wine, saying, “Compliments of the house, sir.”
Xander dumbly stared at him for a moment. “I don’t drink wine,” was the best he reply he could make, “I’d rather have a beer.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll be right back.”
Before the waiter could return, the house lights dimmed and a booming voice filled the club. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the incomparable. . . . the one, the only. . . . Sweet!”
Applause filled the club, drowning out the strains of the orchestra. The entire club went black, with no lights at all, not even a spot light highlighting Sweet. Music swelled, and the audience went completely silent. There was a rustle of noise, just in front of Xander, a mere whisper of sound, and then someone touched his hand. Xander squeaked, blinking harshly when a spot light hit him.
“How d'you do, I see you've met my faithful henchman. He's just a little brought down because when you arrived, he thought you were the candy man.” Sweet’s voice filled the club, and the light broadened, highlighting his face. He was singing directly to Xander, which made him very uncomfortable.
The light focused on Sweet, and Xander gasped. “Don't get strung out by the way that I look, don't judge a book by its cover.” Sweet wasn’t dressed the way he’d been in Sunnydale. He was . . . Xander gulped, closing his eyes in denial. He peaked out of one eye.
Still the same.
Sweet had on fishnet stockings, high heels, garter belt. . . and . . . Xander couldn’t look anymore. It didn’t matter, because Sweet was singing again. “I'm not much of a man by the light of day, but by night, I'm one hell of a lover.”
“I'm just Sweet, a transvestite, just the demon to train ya.”
Xander nearly flew out of the chair, ready to bolt when Sweet rolled his hips in his direction. He couldn’t move, though, because the waiter was behind him, and the demon henchman was sitting on his left, both of them holding him down in his seat.
“So let me show you around, maybe play you a sound. You look like you're really pretty groovy. Or if you want something visual, that's not too abysmal, we could take in an old Steve Reeves movie.” Sweet was gesturing to Xander, looking at him as coyly as he could, given his facial limitations.
He was seriously wigging. Like freaking out, because Sweet was hitting on him – in front of an audience no less – and Xander was way out of his depth. He had no idea how to get himself out of this particular mess. “I really have to get back home, could I use a phone? I’m really in a bit of a hurry. I’ll just say where we are, then go hide under the bar. I don't want to be any worry.”
But Sweet was ignoring him, intent on seducing him with song. “So you got caught by a really hep cat, well, how about that? Well baby, don't you panic, by the light of the night when it all seems alright, I'll be your demonic mechanic.” He ran a hand up Xander’s thigh, snapping the straps of his pants. “I'm just Sweet, a transvestite, just the demon to train ya.”
Grabbing hold of the strap, Sweet pulled him up so that Xander was standing awkwardly in the spotlight. “So why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite? I could show you my favorite obsession. I've been making a vamp with blond hair and a tan, but he's no longer good for relieving my tension.”
Xander nearly bolted when Sweet licked his cheek, and it was only the hold the demon had on him that kept him in place. “I'm just Sweet, a transvestite, just the demon to train ya.”
That’s when he really freaked. Xander pushed Sweet away, breaking free of his hold. “NO!”
Pandemonium broke out, women screaming and the other demons trying to get him as he ran away from Sweet. He fought off the demons, punching and kicking, and at one point even biting, but he knew it was hopeless. There were too many demons chasing after him, and he didn’t even know where to go. All he knew was he had to get out. . . had to get home.
He wasn’t even aware he was singing until one of the demons started at him.
“I gotta get outta this place, if it’s the last thing I ever do! I gotta get outta this place, no way is this the life for me with you!”
The demon looked at him funny, then promptly bashed him over the head. Xander went down without another sound.
“We’ve got something!” Willow waved the map in her hand, brandishing it for the others to see. “Look, he’s here!”
“Where?” Giles took the map from her, looking it over carefully. “That’s great, Willow. The only problem is we have no idea where we are.”
Her face fell, making her appear much younger than her nearly twenty-one years. “Oh! We can ask the baker!”
“True enough. Why don’t you do that.” Giles was feeling every one of his years, lack of sleep and inter-dimensional travel had just caught up with him. “I believe I’m going to rest for a bit. We’ll make plans after I’ve had some sleep.”
Spike looked relieved. “Wouldn’t mind a bit of kip, myself. How much room ’ve we got, Rupes?”
“Four bedrooms, and the sitting room.” He thought for a moment. “There’s a middle bedroom that is rather dark. It should meet your needs nicely.”
“Cheers.” Spike followed Giles down the hallway, ducking into the darkest room. It was small and sparsely furnished, but the old man was right, it suited his needs exactly. The double bed was made up with a smooth comforter and nice crisp linen sheets. It smelled a bit like home, with lavender and mint scenting the sheets, and Spike stripped off his shirt and boots quickly.
He heard the doors close behind him, and he knew Dawn and Buffy had returned from the roof. It wouldn’t have taken much effort on his part to eavesdrop, and he was tempted, but in the end, he’d given the sisters their privacy and gone back to the apartment to join the others. He didn’t like to be around Willow, not since he’d known what she’d done to Buffy, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to bite the witch, chip be damned.
There was a knock on his closed door, then Buffy stuck her head in. “Do you mind if . . . Can I come in?”
“Sure, Slayer. What’s up?” He hadn’t bothered to turn on a light, and neither did Buffy. Spike sat up, watching her as she made her way to his side.
“I don’t wanna be. . . I wanna be alone.” She wrung her hands together, not looking at him.
Spike gestured to the worn chair in the corner. “Want me to take the chair?”
“No. You. . Would you mind if we shared?”
Spike was flabbergasted. “Mind? No. I don’t. Do you?”
Buffy lifted her head, smiling slightly at his response. “If I minded I wouldn’t have asked.”
He moved over, holding up the blanket. “Scoot in, kitten.”
She didn’t hesitate. Slipping out of her sneakers, she slipped easily into the bed beside him, resting on her side.
“Gotta ask, though, sweetheart, why you’re here with me.” Spike dropped the blanket over her shoulders, smoothing it nicely.
“There’s only two other bedrooms. And I really don’t wanna share with anyone.”
“Not even your sis?”
“No.” Buffy relented a bit, adding, “she’s talking to Anya.”
She was quiet again, for long moments, almost long enough for him to think she’d fallen asleep. “Spike? Would you do. . . something for me?”
“Anything in the world, Slayer.” He stared up at the ceiling, afraid she was going to send him away.
“Would you sing me something? Something soft and sweet.”
For some reason, the request, worded so softly, touched something deep inside of him. She wasn’t asking for love, not the romantic kind. Her words, uttered so plaintively, made him think of lullabies and safety, so he searched his brain for something that wouldn’t send her running.
He shifted a bit, sitting up with his back against the head board. From out of the depths of his memories, the words to the song came forward, haltingly at first.
“A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain, softly blows o'er Lullaby Bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting – Waiting to sail your worries away. It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain, and your boat waits down by the key. The winds of night so softly are sighing – Soon they will fly your troubles to sea.”
Buffy rolled over, her eyes fixed on his face. She sighed once, twice, then laid her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his deep voice. “So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain. Wave good-bye to cares of the day. And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain, sail far away from Lullaby Bay.”
He sang it again, starting from the beginning, until her breathing evened out, and Buffy slept.
Liner Notes:
I’m Not That Girl: from the musical Wicked; music and lyrics by Stephen Schwartz, debuted by Idina Menzel.
I’m Just a Sweet Transvestite: from the musical/movie The Rocky Horror Show/The Rocky Horror Picture Show; music and lyrics by Richard O’Brien, debuted by Tim Curry.
We Gotta Get Outta This Place: written by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, recorded by The Animals, on the album Animal Tracks, released September 1965; covered by numerous artists.
Hushabye Mountain: from the musical Chitty Chitty Bang Bang; music and lyrics by Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman and Irwin Kostal; sung by Dick Van Dyke; covered by various artists; also included in the play.
I know, I know it's been a while, but life has just continued throwing me curve balls, and I can't seem to get ahead of the count. I promise there will be more to come within the next couple of weeks. A kind word would be lovely. Thanks!