He felt their eyes lift to watch the stairs before he and Buffy had even turned the corner. Once they had reached a spot visible to the group in the foyer, the silence became marking. It felt like the time and place of his rebirth, his third, fourth or fifth chance taking place down the curving steps toward reception.
Feeling timid and unsure, he failed to make eye contact until he felt the secure presence of his Sire, and he realised that-- though he craved more from these people-- all he truly needed now was his Sire and his Buffy. And he had them. They had given their all to bring him back, infused him with purpose and strength to be pulled back. So, once he reached a level he raised his eyes--and was humbled by the numbered expressions of relief and caring that greeted him.
Fairly blown away by the quiet acceptance that echoed around the room, his approach was aimed toward Angel.
“Thanks for the new threads, pops. Though traditionally, I’m more of a denim and stretch-interlock kind of bloke.”
“Well, sure, but obviously leather and the drape of that shirt suits you. You look very sexy. I’m sure Buffy is very pleased.”
Everyone had stopped to give Anya rather surprised but amused looks but then all turned back to greet Spike with a smile, no one commenting on Buffy’s hand that had slipped into his as they had descended the staircase.
Xander took the opportunity presented by the lull to step forward into the path of the blonde vampire. They looked warily at each other before Xander erupted into a goofy, relieved grin and offered his outstretched hand.
“The chip’s still in zapping order, I hope,” he offered lamely as Spike grasped his hand firmly, and they shook as friends for the very first time.
“Not sure, whelp. You offering your services for a trial run?” Spike’s relieved and wobbly smile took the threat from the words and he laughed as Xander succumbed to a girlish giggle.
He was taken off guard by a blood-curdling high-pitched squeal and was relieved he didn’t have breath to lose as he found himself with an armful of colourful Dawn, Willow and Tara.
“What’s with all the glad rags? Thought we had to get to plannin’?”
Everyone noticed the hesitant way that Spike looked at them, the awkward but eager way he embraced the girls, and the warm feel of change that settled like a glutinous cloak over the room. Acceptance was a wondrous thing, especially when applied to a soulless vampire lowered to gracious tolerance of his human family.
“The plan is a nightclub called Caritas, Spike.”
Finally Giles had decided to take the plunge, himself mystified but not altogether repulsed by the presence of the once feared and hated vampire. He had experienced his own shift in perception these past few weeks. He had taken note of the increased demon activity, the increase in Buffy’s anxiety and sadness, and had taken it to heart. So many emotional blows put her at risk, and Giles knew that none of them in the room at present was willing to surrender her to her Slayer fate. He was stunned at how little he minded if Spike was the one who gave her the strength to persevere, to win.
“I hardly think it’s a time for partyin’, Rupert. We should be heavy into the strategisen’ right about now. Where’s the big table, Peaches? How does your lot come up with any plans when they aren’t parked round a big circle of hardwood?”
Giles stood flummoxed, incredulous that the vampire had adopted without prior knowledge the same argument--derived out of a sense of wasting opportunity--that he had put forth the day before. Shaking his head a little, bemused, he sat back to wait for the outcome and their guided trek to this demon club.
Spike was starting to grow a little anxious, feeling nervous with so many eyes fixed on him. After spending a number of weeks on display, albeit completely nude--though that would not usually have bothered him-- he was starting to prickle from being the focus of everyone’s attention. He wanted them to look down, or away, at someone or something else. But his mouth just wouldn’t close and more words spewed forth and fixed his place in the centre of it all. He could feel the panic begin to swirl within his stomach and he was sure if he was human he would be sweating, and probably on the brink of shitting cats. Great big Himalayans.
He needed a drink badly, something to help tone down the awareness a little, and suddenly he thought the idea of a club sounded pretty good. He spied his duster thrown casually over an armchair and turned without word to grab it up. Pulling on Buffy’s hand he was almost to the front entrance before the group realised he was moving.
“Come on, Peaches. Show us where this bloody club is.”
Despite the call, Spike sleekly strutted several steps ahead of Angel, turning abruptly and doubling back only when he was called and advised on the proper direction. He would return to the crowd of Scoobies, before walking faster to regain the front, the call of alcohol-- and the resultant dulling of this anxiety of being comfortable amongst the crowd who had always hated him--almost frenzied.
Buffy could feel the vibrating body of her vampire through the link of their held hands. She tensed against his almost manic movement and concern had her jutting out her chin in determined support. She strode along beside him, confusion in her steps, but refusing to falter in the wake of his agitation. She had seen so many variants on his mood over the past eighteen or so hours that her head was about to spin right off her shoulders.
Determined to try and claim calm, even if Spike was unable to, she focused her attention on the steady click clack of her heels on the pavement, the rhythm quickly becoming hypnotic. It tore her own awkward attention away from her friends, still a little -- well, not embarrassed exactly-- but tender to the witnessing of her closeness with Spike.
She fell back slightly, her steps slower as her breathing deepened, but he pulled her along behind him with the chain of their joined hands stretching taut. By her slackened steps she reeled him in; his steps slowed and the others finally could catch up. Just as well too, as they pulled to a halt with Angel at the doors of a club-- ‘Caritas’ flashing ownership.
Angel seemed to hesitate before reaching and pushing the door in, leading them inside. He made his way unfalteringly to a table, and only seemed to lose his determined step once he’d pulled out a chair and flopped down into it. From the expression on his face he was recalling unpleasant memories, and no one felt either confident or interested enough to ask for the story. A raised arm indicated a requirement of drinks and with something akin to being a psychic moment, everyone’s choice of beverage arrived at the table in front of them.
A quick look around took in the smoky atmosphere, and the mix of demon patronage, before eager and excited eyes alighted on the poor unfortunate melody- repressed demon squalling on stage. The vampires cringed in unison as the girls started to giggle. Buffy caught Spike’s expanding grin and followed his eyes to the uncomfortable shuffling form of Angel, realisation flowering over her face even as Spike confirmed her suspicions.
“An’ what piece of musical genius did you choose to sing, Peaches?”
Before the stubbornly closed lips could separate to tell Spike to shove it, an odd gaudily dressed demon of a pure hideous green with horns appeared at their table.
“Why, our little Peach Pie decided to give a murderous rendition of Mandy, with an amazing lack of credibility. How did you go with the little dumpling, oh proud warrior?”
Angel shifted in his seat; discomfort a word not quite strong enough to explain the rigidity that had taken over his spine at the veiled reference to Darla. He chose not to aim toward an answer and instead offered up another victim for the karaoke diviner.
“We need your help, Lorne.”
“Well then, Scrumptious. Somebody needs to stretch their legs and take a walk on the wild side. Who’s it gonna be?” He took a look around the table, finding faces eager and others bordering on horrified at the thought of singing in public. His gaze came to fall upon Spike, and already an excitement began to crawl up his spine.
“Oh you have got to be kidding me. Why, you are the most delicious little lemon meringue I ever did see. Take a step up there sunshine, I am simply dying to find out all your secrets.”
Everyone at the table served Spike with stunned and nervous looks. He had just survived though a particularly harrowing ordeal. Was he ready to open himself up and have all of himself on display? Buffy thought about his low, gravelly, husky and sexy voice, and prayed that he was. With an encouraging smile, she shoved him so that he almost landed on the floor from his chair. His eyes opened in incredulous realisation.
“What the bloody hell was that for?” he glared at her, all amusement slipping as he looked at her eager expression. Alarm surged within him and he bounced on his feet away from the table. “You can think again, Summers. I’m not about to sing some poncy nancy boy ballad.” He put his foot down in defiance and thrust his nervous curled fists violently into his duster pockets.
“Please?” she pleaded with him, her hands clasped under her chin as if in solemn prayer while batting her eyelashes at him. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Lorne gave them an amused smirk, though the serious faces around the table quickly tempered it.
“Well, lover boy, depending on the nature of the emergency, you might want to postpone that promise. Now move on up there, soldier. Time’s a wastin’.”
“It certainly bloody is with me, mate. I’m not the right victim. You better read the littler one. Nibblet, get on up there and make us deaf with a boy band original.”
“No can do, sugar lips,” Lorne interrupted. “You’re the one the bar will be screaming for. Now make your way on stage. That a boy…” Lorne swept him away and those around the table sat open-mouthed, confused with the speed of the capture.
“Please tell me Spike can sing,” Xander almost pleaded, a tiny whine evident in his voice. Everyone shook their heads, suddenly seeing how little they really knew about the newest inducted member of their group.
“Oh, he definitely looks like he can sing. I’m banking on smoky, sexy qualities. He looks like he could be rough.” Anya grinned in anticipation, oblivious to her boyfriend’s jealous and slightly disgusted looks.
Angel nodded miserably, the only positive amongst their shaking heads.
“Oh, he can sing alright,” he confirmed, his voice slightly pained. “Is there really anything Spike tries that he doesn’t do well? He’s going to be a show off, too. Oh no, no silly little karaoke back-up for him…”
The others watched his rant in confusion, but as soon as Spike walked out on the stage and sat with a guitar strap attached round his neck, they smiled in understanding.
Though Giles was feeling a little irked.
“He never told me he could play. He took over my bloody bathroom for weeks and didn’t think it was be nice to tell me he could play a guitar. And with mine sitting right there. The bloody cheek…” His voice petered out as the first acoustic chords drifted around the suddenly silent room.
Giles and Joyce shared a surprised gaze of recognition before their lips formed a smile of pleasured approval of Spike’s song choice. Until the words of the song brought meaning to mind, and the smile curved down into a frown of parental denial.
The first rasping notes hit Buffy way down low. Heat sheared within her and she felt molten with need for him, his voice merely stoking the desire and creating a spastic dance of her inner nerves that had not fully banked since she had finally made right with him. Looking around the table at the awestruck expressions of surprise she felt the warmth spread throughout her inner sexual paths and find release in all her limbs. As the words began to register, she flushed with both embarrassment and shaking promise.
Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed
Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed
Whatever colours you have in your mind
I’ll show them to you and you’ll see them shine
Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed
Stay lady stay, stay with your man awhile
Until the break of day, let me see you make him shine
His clothes are dirty but his hands are clean
And you’re the best thing he’s ever seen
Buffy glowed, her heart lifted with the truth tumbling from his lips. He really loved her, cherished her and she had almost been too stupid to take what he offered her. She really did want to sit back and watch him shine, let him rejoice in the fact that finally his hands really were clean. He was bathed innocent anew by his momentous decision.
His turning to good.
Tears formed in her eyes as she looked away from the stage briefly to note the green demon sitting silently along with them at the table. Seeing his devoted expression, she turned once again to the vampire she pledged to give her all.
Stay lady stay, stay with your man awhile
Why wait any longer for the world to begin
You can have your cake and eat it too
Why wait any longer for the one you love
When he’s standing in front of you
Lay lady lay, lay across my big brass bed
Stay lady stay, stay while the night is still ahead
I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night
Stay lady stay, stay while the night is still ahead
Heat roared across Buffy’s cheeks as she felt all eyes trained on her responses, trying to glean some kind of confirmation. Deciding to brazen it out she turned to each one and was relieved to find mostly amused chiding glances rather than glares of anger or distrust. But as revealing as Spike’s song was, it billowed with truth and reckless abandonment of outside restraints. It told of passion and undying love that so captured her heart that she wanted to drag him straight back to the hotel and say ‘to hell with Glory’. But her eyes fell upon Dawn and she knew that it wasn’t yet something they could indulge in. She just prayed they got through this fight alive so that she could finally taste and accept all of him. She felt near to death in her desperation to show him how deeply she felt about him.
Angel shared an anxious glance with Lorne and he decided to dismiss all the jovial jibing about Spike’s song choice and cut straight through to the issue that brought them here. As bewildered as he felt about Lorne choosing to read Spike instead of Dawn--considering it was her fate that they were all anxious about-- he knew the demon well enough to trust his judgement.
Just as it seemed that his sharp, hinting looks would be ignored, Lorne turned to him, his face arranged in an uncomfortable grimace.
“Well, Angel cakes, looks like a questing ye shall go, yet again. Or at least your blond baby is set to go.”
“What?” Angel was filled with a sense of protective urgency. “There is no way William is strong enough to go through that just yet.”
“He’s going to have to be or there will be an awful lot for him to grieve over.”
Everyone at the table looked shocked and scared, just as Spike ambled back to his seat with his irrepressibly over-confident swagger.
“So what glaring bit of barf about my future are you all discussin’ with unhappy looks?” On the outside he was gruff, swimming in high humour, but on the inside he quaked, shook with a sense of doom that all he held dear and irreplaceable was about to be ripped away from him. It stood to reason after all. By some fate that was clearly out of whack, he had Buffy in reach of his arms, permanently fixed in his heart--and with her beaming permission--that it only stood to reason that everything was about to be cocked up good and proper.
Nothing stayed straight for William the Bloody, nothing ever remained good for long. Everything in his life and unlife had been shadowed with uncertainty, clouded with the darkness of jealousy, hate and pain. Even when he thought things were perfect with Dru, she had never stopped thinking of Angel. Now it was time to wonder if he would experience the same again with Buffy, had she really put Angel out of her heart enough for him to occupy any kind of major space. The way she looked at him suggested that she had, but past luck was enough for him to have doubts.
“Okay, sweetcheeks, it’s like this. The only way you can give this lovely green delight her chance is to go on a quest.” All eyes darted to the nervous form of Dawn, attempting to shrink back in her chair away from them. “Our little champion can show you the way, and I’ll wish you all good luck. A trip for four though, family only.”
Angel looked up at that.
“You can chaperone them to the site, but beyond that point only Summers women and our shining silver Knight can gain entry. Don’t sweat it, there will be plenty for you to do later.” Lorne stood, moved a fraction of a step away before turning again to the group with some urgency.
He caught eyes with the Slayer, holding her in an intense stare before feeling her sense of embarrassed need to turn away. Before she could he reaffirmed what he had just said. “All the Summer’s women…don’t forget now.” And he was off catching Seabreeze from his mingling barmen and customers, encouraging the plaintive wail of another demon’s voice to fill up the club, but occasionally glancing back with worry and sympathy.
“That boy’s got soul!” Lorne shook his head at the struggle of trials that lay in their path as he moved away.
A/N...Almost at the end...keep up the feedback..I love it.