If she hadn't come to Ethan's costume shop with a specific shopping agenda, Buffy would have been all over the princess dress like she was herself on evil. When she saw that pink gown demurely calling to her from the other side of the shop it inspired a sense of wistful longing that was almost embarrassing.
She and Xander had been hugging when she saw the dress. Willow, who was standing right beside them gripping her ghost costume, grinned and gave them a mini-clap. Xander held both Buffy's hands and graced her with his goofiest smile.
"So what kind of costume for the Buffster? May I recommend something in the spandex ouvre?"
"Funny you should say that," Buffy said, letting go of his hands and making a bee-line for the costumes hanging on the back wall. Xander and Willow followed, the redhead blushing slightly at her friend's mention of spandex. Among the variety of slutty nurses, pirate wenches and a trampy Strawberry Shortcake which totally ruined many wholesome childhood memories, was just the thing Buffy had been looking for. Buffy snatched a skin-tight leopard outfit from the silver hook.
If Cordelia didn't think Buffy could compete when it came to attracting boys, Queen C was sorely mistaken. Nothing would piss off Ms. Chase more than having to share the limelight with someone wearing the same costume.
"I'll show her who's the Slayer of dating! If Angel's a Care Bear with fangs he's definitely not gonna be Share Bear," Buffy said.
Xander leaned down slightly and whispered in Willow's ear.
"Is Buffy speaking in tongues or has the stress of slaying finally made her all unhingy?"
"Neither. It's a Cordi thing," Willow said.
"Ah," Xander said, nodding, "she brings out the incoherent rage in the best of us."
~*~
The moment Buffy saw Cordelia's face, she knew her own costume choice was a winner. The brunette flounced away after stating flatly that payback would be swift. Buffy couldn't wait for Angel to see her, having no doubt in her mind that she looked about a million times hotter than Cordi had. That was until her rival strutted out of Ethan's Costume Shop wearing a Wonder Woman outfit. Buffy and Willow immediately lost Xander, who began tagging after Cordelia muttering something about Golden Age comics. It was fine though; Buffy remembered why she shouldn't be petty. Cordelia could out-petty her any day of the week so there was no purpose in the effort at all. Buffy spent the night trick or treating with Willow and taking care of a group of little kids. It was a lot of fun and so incredibly normal, she could almost forget about Cordelia. They were approaching the last house with a lit porch light on the block when Buffy suddenly felt strange.
*~*~*
Spike was wandering around admiring the chaos unfurling in the suburban street with a look of pure glee on his fanged face.
"Well, this is just neat!"
Drusilla had said everything would be turning inside out and she'd been so right. Little goblins were wreaking havoc everywhere; setting cars on fire, nibbling on housewives, busting and smashing store windows like Mookie in "Do the Right Thing." It was all the more delicious because the wee buggars had no idea what was going on. They were just caught up in a dark wave of evil; perverted to the sadistic will of a madman. It was satisfying to watch. The only thing left to do in Spike's mind was to find the Slayer.
Spike was coming up near her house on Revello Drive when suddenly he was thrust to the ground by what felt like a furry Mac truck with claws.
"Bloody—ow, fuck! Hell!" Spike shouted as he was engulfed by a hot snarling creature blurring orange and black. A pointed maw closed over his shoulder and he shrieked unmanfully before getting a good enough bead on the creature to punch it in the face. It zeroed in on him with its surprisingly lovely green eyes, not even slightly perturbed. No, that wasn't right. It was mighty, bloody perturbed but it hadn't seemed to register the smack in the jaw at all.
"You're a leopard! How are you a bloody leopard right now?" Spike asked, wondering why he'd chosen something so stupid as his last words. The big kitty growled and the sound trilled down Spike's spine. The leopard shook him and then dropped him on the ground. Spike took the opportunity to spin on his back and kick it in the black triangle of its nose.
That was a mistake.
The cat lunged at his stomach. Spike landed another blow on its reddened snout and then began choking the thing with all his rapidly waning strength.
That was when he noticed Wonder Woman striding by carrying Angel in her arms.
Kitty noticed, too, and its great, sleek, gold head lifted away from his belly. The creature's big, emerald eyes actually got kind of sad. Spike used the distraction to propel the feline off of him using both of his legs. He rolled and landed on his feet. She did not. The leopard was sprawled and dazed, its body curved like a shoehorn on the sidewalk. Spike whipped his belt off, not really certain why he was going to do what he was about to do.
Spike twirled the black, leather belt over his head like he was roping cattle.
"Here kitty, kitty. You're not the first puss I've licked."
A teenage boy and girl who were dressed like either end of a horse winced at the obvious joke as they fled in terror, but Spike didn't care. He was stalking toward the leopard and she was circling him. He could swear there was a look of amusement on her whiskered face. The beast cocked her head and took a lunge. Spike—in a Hail Mary pass never to be repeated—ensnared its neck within the loop of his belt. He yanked his arm back, making the leopard rear up as it choked. He took a bite out of its thick flank, drinking enough to gentle the cat, but not nearly enough to hurt it. The first lush gulp of blood made him feel inexplicably hot, and he started to pet the kitty along its side with his free hand. He let the leopard get on all fours and loosened his belt just enough to allow it to breathe. Spike stroked the creature along its spine, watching the gold and black fur run under his hand like shining water.
"You're pretty, aren't you? Might be the blood loss talking, pet, but I think I'm gonna take you home with me. Keep you around like Tony Montoya so you can scare the minions. You wanna be mine, don't you, kitty cat?"
The leopard looked at him warily as he continued to drunkenly rub its gleaming coat. He buried his face in its tummy and was rewarded with a deep, warm purr.
"Thought so," he muttered before looking back lovingly at its face. "Gonna give you sweet cream and enemies to snack on. You're so beautiful and lethal; all golden like sunlight. I'll call you Sunny," Spike said. He stood up, teetering on his long legs and then the leopard pounced on him again. They landed with a crunch against the sidewalk.
"You ungrateful bitch!" Spike shouted as he dug the heels of his boots into its hips and shoved the jagged mouth away from his face. "I was gonna let you sleep at the foot of my bed!"
Spike popped her in the face again and she whimpered, which inexplicably made him feel bad. Then the creature began licking the gash on his shoulder. He wasn't sure if she was eating him or cleaning him, but he wasn't taking any chances. Spike tightened the leash. The leopard continued to drag its broad, coarse tongue over his skin and he sighed in spite of himself. It felt nice. He caressed the cat's silky ears which inspired a rumbling purr that vibrated against his whole body.
"We at an impasse, kitty cat?" he asked, just before he finally passed out from the pain with his arms wrapped around the leopard.
A few hours later Spike woke up to a pointed shoe jabbing him in the face. He was still draped in a warm body, but the one he cuddled was a far less hairy. He opened his eyes to see the shocked face of the Slayer gaping at him across his chest. He looked away from the appalled blonde and immediatly saw the owner of the footwear. Drusilla was staring down at them, her chin curdled and her red lips atremble.
Spike looked from one to the other again and then put both his hands up.
"Please don't kill me," he said.
~*~*~*~
Buffy was limping down the street, a double-headed axe slung over her shoulder. Sure, the weapon was a bit much when a stake would do the job, but the black and silver matched so well with her outfit. Black leather pants sort of screamed axe. She'd dressed up especially to kill Spike and she didn't want to skimp on the accessories.
The morning after Halloween was overcast, but she still felt it somehow unsporting to dust him and Dru in the daytime. Not that he'd ever been particularly fair—he'd threatened her mom for God's sake. After she'd awoken in his arms, Buffy knew she should have dusted him but it had all been so embarrassing she'd just run away. Dru was too angry at her boyfriend to follow.
Buffy kicked a stray rock and mumbled nonsensical grumplings to herself. Stupid Spike with his stupid hair and stupid Cordelia with her stupid sensuality. Stupid Buffy with her choice of costume.
As Buffy approached the factory, she went into stealth mode. Not that she became invisible to radar or anything. She just got a lot sneakier. The front doors were open, but she went in through a window, slaying snoozing minions as she made her way through the building. She got to the second floor and found Spike sitting on a dusty canopy bed, weeping into his hands. He was shirtless, which exposed the rings of red bite marks on his pale trunk. He was shoeless, too, so running wasn't much of an option. The few empty whisky bottles at his feet confirmed he was probably going to be stationary for awhile.
"Slayer. What took you so long?" Spike asked without lifting his greasy, mussed, white-blond head.
"I wanted to look nice for our date and you didn't even notice," Buffy said, putting on her vapid voice. He turned his head as she stepped closer to the bed.
"You're all done up for the dance. Makes me wish I'd pressed a shirt."
"That's okay. It's your funeral, you dress however you want."
"Come on, love, can we reschedule? Dru left me last night and that's mostly your fault. Least you could do would be to give me a week or two to sober up," Spike said.
"My fault! If your ex-girlfriend hadn't tried to eat Angel he'd never have needed to get all rescued by Cordelia and he never would have realized he'd been in love with her for months. So this is all your fault," Buffy said, pointing at him with her stylish axe.
The sound erupting from Spike's mouth might have been laughter or choking, she wasn't sure. He threw back his head and held his sides. He pitched another empty liquor bottle across the room. It shattered against the black, stone wall and the shards cascaded to the concrete floor like glittering rain. At the moment the vessel hit, the sky broke apart, too, with a thunderclap and sudden downpour.
"Why don't you have a drink with me, Slayer. Seems we're both a little worse for wear." The vampire grabbed a full bottle of bourbon out from underneath one of the tattered, yellow, lace pillows and waggled it at her.
"I don't drink."
"Nothing's better for a broken heart," Spike said, arching an eyebrow at her, "besides, it's all wet outside. You might as well wait so you don't ruin those nice trousers."
If Angel hadn't done exactly what Buffy had feared—namely choosing the pretty, pulled together girl over her even though Cordi tended to be superficial and mean—she wouldn't have considered drinking with Spike. However, knowing how much it would enrage her ex was tantalizing. The memory of the blond's hands coarsing over her body was also enticing, even though at the time it hadn't really been her body at all.
Buffy gave him a half smile and rolled her eyes. Then she sat down next to him on the bed.
"Do you even have a clean glass or do you expect me to drink out of something that used to hold human blood?"
Spike took a cigarette out of the crumpled pack setting on the mattress and stuck it between his lips.
"Oi! I know how to treat a lady. I got Dixie Cups in the bedside table," he said.
He leaned over and flicked open the drawer, producing a paper cup for her. He handed her the cup and then cracked open the bottle. He poured her some of the brown liquid, then used the rest of the bottle to toast.
"To Angel and Dru. May they soon grovel," Spike said.
"To groveling," Buffy said.
They touched paper to glass then tipped back their drinks. Buffy shook her head and stuck out her tongue, with a loud, "Geeyah!" Her silliness tugged a fond smirk from Spike.
"You're bloody adorable, you know that? Angel's a git."
"Right, I'm adorable. Knowing the most efficient way to decapitate a guy is super-cute. That's why they have that monthly feature about beheadings in Cosmo."
"Cosmo doesn't know shite. Half those sex tips would sterilize a mortal man," Spike said.
"Really? I always kinda wondered about that; not that I read about sex tips..."
"Sure you don't."
About half a bottle and three choruses of, "Tubthumping," later, the pair were stretched out on the bed in each others arms. They looked remarkably as they had the night before. Buffy had her hand palm-down on Spike's chest, idly stroking his nipple. He had his arm curved around her back and was toying with her long, blonde hair.
"You totally wanted to be sexy with me when I was a leopard," Buffy said, giggling huskily.
"That's uncalled for, Slayer. I've never been pathetic enough to put it to the animal kingdom and I wasn't gonna start last night. Like I want to go through un-life being the guy who shagged a leopard. Besides, how would I know where you've been? You could've given me feline leukemia."
"Hey, you would've taken my leopard virginity and like, my regular virginity, too. Besides, it's not like you had to look at yourself in the mirror the next morning."
He angled his head down to see her better, causing his chin to wrinkle in kind with his furrowed eyebrows.
"You've never been with a man? I'd have thought Peaches would've sorted you by now."
"I wanted to wait," Buffy said,quietly. She wondered why she'd decided to tell Spike about it at all.
When he spoke again his voice was deep and caressing, like he was telling her a secret.
"Yeah, I can see that. The Slayer in you takes up so much of your life, of course you'd want to protect the girl. You want the love and romance while the other part burns in the dark; you've so much to fear with all those different desires. Can see why you fell for Angel. He's got the menace the Slayer longs for but he's also a man. I could be that for you, Buffy. I could give you everything you've been craving without you having to ask. I know you inside and out."
Buffy sat up jerkily and backed off the bed in one movement. All of her giddy feelings about doing something naughty were gone. She was filled with anger at Spike for always seeing through her. He was the last person she wanted to be vulnerable around. Spike propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her, disappointment prodding out his lower lip.
"I have to go. I need to get up early and kill you tomorrow," Buffy said.
He flopped down on the bed with both arms outstretched, causing dust to rise from the mattress like a puff dropped in powder.
"Oh, you're on that again. Is it because I just hit a vein or do you normally cuddle with your enemies before staking them through the heart?"
Buffy turned around and bent down. She snatched up her axe from the floor and then straightened, glancing over her shoulder at him.
"Nothing about you is normal."
"Just like you. It's why we'd be perfect together."
"Except for the part where I hate you and you hate me," Buffy said, striding toward the door.
"Don't hate you, Buffy. I love you," Spike said as he got to his feet.
Buffy stopped, her back tense.
"You can't love without a soul."
"We both know that's a load, kitten. It's a lie that lets you do your job. So bully for that, but you can feel my love for you. Just like you feel the dread of what I am every time you close your eyes. When I touch you it sends little crackles against your skin, doesn't it?"
"So?" She asked, turning around to see him moving silently toward her. The storm was thrashing against the windows, and powder blue light hinted at the edges of the heavy, velvet curtains. Spike stopped in front of her. The ambient light tinged his white hair gas blue and intensified the paleness of his skin. He seemed distant and alien as he rested his hands on her sloping shoulders.
"So, that's because I'm part of who you are. We were born to seek each other out. I'm the reason you exist and vice-versa. I could make you feel whole."
"I feel whole already," Buffy said. In addition to that wholeness, standing up fast had made her feel a little dizzy. Stupid boozy Spike with his crackling hands all on her.
"You don't know how it could be, though."
"This is not a conversation I'm having with you. It's been real...weird...but I have to go."
He bent down and kissed her forehead.
"I'll wait. Got fuck all to do for eternity, pet."
"Not if I stake you," Buffy said, wondering for the millionth time why she hadn't done that already.
"I'll take my chances, love," Spike said with a wink, and then released her arms. He shambled back to the bed and plopped down.
"You're so dust tomorrow," Buffy said as she marched out of the room.
Spike smirked at her and stuck a cigarette between his lips.
"Kind of doubt that, sweetheart," Spike said to her retreating form.