Buffy found herself once again staring into the blue eyes of a bleached blond punk. God, why can’t it be some other over-bleached, make-up wearing freak. This guy must have it out for me. Buffy glared up at the man. “Excuse you!”
“Excuse me?! Excuse ME?!”
“I knew you’d see it my way!”
“Now, look here you bloody—“, Spike looked her over, “skinny twit! I don’t know what you have against me, but I’m really getting tired of getting drenched.”
At Oz’s confused look, Spike explained, “this is that loopy bint I told you about. The one that tried to drown me at the club last night.” Spike glanced back at Buffy who was still sitting on the floor. “I guess she wasn’t finished with me yet.”
“Oh, I am so finished with you! This wasn’t my fault! And now I’m going to smell like beer all night!”
“You work in a bar, sweetheart, get used to it!”
Noticing the attention they were getting, Buffy pulled herself off of the floor and picked up the discarded , now empty, pint glasses. “You know what, Mr. likes to knock women over, you can get your own beer!”
Spike rolled his eyes, “thanks ever so.” Buffy huffed off back towards the bar.
Oz smiled, “well, she’s a keeper.”
Spike gave Oz a pointed look, “I’ve already dated my share of loons and bitches. I certainly have no designs on little miss prissy pants, though she is pretty easy on the eyes.”
“Yeah, that she is. Why don’t you go try to make amends while you’re getting us a couple of beers?”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I continue on my merry way to the men’s room, take a leak, and try to wash some of this beer off while you go get us a couple of beers.”
“Come on, man. You need to set a better example for the students. It’s not good for them to see a professor yelling at bar staff.”
Spike sighed. “Fine, fine. After I’m done in the restroom, I’ll talk to the bloody bint.”
“Spike.”
“I mean I’ll talk to the lovely, entirely misunderstood young woman.”
Oz chuckled as Spike wandered off towards the men’s room.
Buffy muttered to herself, “stupid, arrogant, English asshole.” She noticed Anya camped out on the stool next to Angel as she arrived back at the bar.
“Buffy! You’re all wet!”
“I know, I know. It’s that jackass from the club last night. He struck again!”
“Oh, you mean the hottie? I wouldn’t mind a few dozen orgasms from him.”
“He’s not hot! He’s, he’s disgusting! And….vile!”
“Vile? Whatever, Buff, you can afford to be vile when you look like that.”
Angel looked sympathetically at Buffy, “do you want me to take care of him?”
“No, no. He’s just some dumb punk. With any luck, I’ll never have to talk to him again.”
Spike stepped out into the hallway outside the men’s room. Best be getting this over with. Who knew I’d have to go through this much trouble just to get one bloody beer.
He shoved his way towards the bar. “Oh, bloody hell.” That Neanderthal from the other night just had to be here too.
Buffy glanced up and saw the punk approaching her. Great, guess the last two times just weren’t enough.
Angel spun around on his bar stool to see what Buffy was looking at and found himself facing the punk guy from the club. “What do you want, jerk? It’s not nice to harass women.”
“I don’t want any trouble, mate. I just want a couple of beers to replace the ones I’m wearing.”
Buffy gave him a hard look. “Fine, but then you’re going to stay away from me for the rest of the night.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, goldilocks.”
Spike waited impatiently while Buffy filled two pint glasses. I don’t like the looks this behemoth is giving me, and the looks I’m getting from the girl he’s with aren’t much better. She looks like she wants to eat me for lunch.
“Hey, Professor!” Spike turned to see a group of students from his advanced English Literature course. He gave them a polite nod.
“Professor?” Anya raised her eyebrows. “Is that some sort of street name or something?”
“No, it is not a street name. I’m a college professor. Some of those students were in one of my classes.”
Angel sputtered his beer, “You are a professor. You’ve got to be kidding me. What do you teach? Cosmetology?”
Spike clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Must not let students see you punch this git in the face.
Buffy returned with the beers. “Here’s your beer. Now go away.”
Spike shook his head and took the beer. So much for making nice, he thought as he headed back to his table.
Buffy looked at Angel and Anya. “What were you talking to him about? I can’t imagine that idiot has anything interesting to say.”
“Not an idiot.”
“Huh?”
“Not an idiot,” Anya repeated. “He’s a college professor.”
“No fucking way! He certainly doesn’t look like any of my professors from Sunnydale.”
Anya smiled. “Hey, if my professors would’ve looked like that, I would have finished college. I can think of several things I’d do to him to get an ‘A’.”
“Anya…please…,” muttered Angel.
Spike set the beers down on the table and took his seat.
“So, how did it go, man?”
“Bloody fantastic. We’re getting married at a nice little chapel in Manhattan. Then, we’re moving into a cottage with a white picket fence. We just couldn’t decide what to name our first-born, though.”
“That good, huh?”
“Yeah, it was a bloody riot.” Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pack and popped it in his mouth. “She had her bodyguard with her. I’m just lucky I got out of there with no bloodshed. Rather, he’s lucky. Stupid prick.”
“So no big plans to spend your summer break with a sassy barmaid?”
“Not that barmaid, mate. That’s for sure.”
The rest of the night was a blur. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time they had served that much liquor. It was almost closing time and the bar had mostly cleared out. Buffy noticed the punk guy and his friend were still sipping beer and chatting at their table in the back. Luckily, the guy had not approached the bar anymore that evening. His friend made sure to place their orders. Buffy thought that the red-haired man was surprisingly pleasant considering the company he kept.
Angel had left after Buffy agreed to give him a call over the weekend sometime. She still didn’t know how she felt about spending more time with him, but he wasn’t all that horrible to be around. She figured she could give him a date or two, and if she didn’t like where it was going, she could just tell him that she wasn’t ready to date yet afterall. That wouldn’t be too far from the truth. She just hoped it wouldn’t seem like she was leading him on.
Oz got up from the table to take his leave. “Are you sure you don’t want to share a cab with me?”
Spike shook his head. “No, my flat’s only a few blocks away. It will do me good to walk. I can air out some of this beer smell. Besides, I need to stop at the little convenience store down the way to pick up some cigarettes.”
“Bad habit, man.”
“Oi. Fuck off.”
“Catch you later, man.”