Disclaimer:
Spike: So you're
saying that I'm a figment of some bloke's imagination.
Buffy: Yeah.
This guy called Joss made up all the people we know. And
then he set up a production company called Mutant Enemy
and they made a TV series and they sold it to Fox and UPN
and everybody else.
Spike: So now
I'm not only made up, but there's some actor type going
around pretending to be me. As if they could find some human
who could do me justice!
Buffy: It gets
better. In one episode, he makes it so that I think that
I made up everybody that he really made up.
Spike: Bloody
Hell! Is this guy on any prescription medication? Seriously...
Everybody round here is miserable. Maybe if we club together
we can get him some Prozac... or maybe we should get him
laid...What about that Faith bint? I mean he'd have to let
her out of that jail... but once he tries a slayer...
Buffy: You're
a pig!
Spike: Hey I
know what it is. He's jealous of my undeniable charm, bad
boy attitude and my compactly muscular body. That's why
he made me be in love with such a bitch...
Buffy: Hey! That's
not fair. I can't help it. It's how he made me...
Disclaimer#2:
I Walk the Line is by Alien Sex Fiend
Dedication: For
Charmin, Sarr Chasm, akeleven, Darlene D, bubonicplague1348
and Queen Akasha. I just love repeat reviewers. Love them,
love them, love them!!! The people who kept me going through
writing the original version that ff deleted. (And for NeverMindDaria
and faerie babee without whom I'd have given up on reposting
this.)
Author's Note: This was my first attempt
at FanFic, in fact it was the first time I'd written anything
in about fifteen years. When it was posted originally it was completely unbeta-ed, but I and t_geyer, my beta of the past four years, are going to try to touch it up a little now that some kind person has nominated it at one of the award sites... Hopefully, we'll get it finished before the judges get to it.
"Hell's Bells" written
by Rebecca Rand Kirshner
Chapter 7
She had hoped that breaking up with him
would give her a sense of closure, that the dreams would
stop, but still they went on.
They started with the tiger. The stunningly
beautiful, incredibly rare white tiger with piercing blue
eyes.
She saw him as he drank by the edge of
a moonlit pool, his tongue lapping at the midnight dark
liquid, yet when he looked up, suddenly aware of her presence,
not water but blood dripped from his lips, fangs and gums.
He watched her as his long tongue snaked
from his mouth to rasp away the telltale blood stains; he
knew that she could no more run from his predatory gaze
than a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming juggernaut
could avoid its fate.
Slowly he began to pad towards her, the
pool fading into the dark shadows of her dream landscape.
With a grace, power and strength unmatched in the human
world, taut muscles rippled under creamy pale fur. His winter
blue gaze focused on her face and she was helpless and pinned
in place as long as their eyes met. The pounding rhythm
of those powerful muscles gradually quickened, from a walk
to a trot and finally, to a steady loping run. Then, just
when she thought the suspense unbearable he leapt, bearing
her over backwards, with one forceful paw on each shoulder
and as she hit the ground the beast's fangs pierced the
skin of her exposed neck. Her hair, always long in these
dreams, as he had liked it, before a fit of spite had made
her hack it off, was loosely pinned back and up for the
sole purpose of granting him easy access.
As he drank the body above her would change
form and in an instant she found herself pinned beneath
his jean-clad form resting on a concrete floor, her arms
extended above her head and manacled to a metal loop set
into the floor.
Now that her eyes were no longer locked
with his, she was free to struggle and she writhed beneath
him as he drew precious blood from her veins. Just as the
blood loss left her overcome by a giddy euphoria, she became
aware of a shift in his weight and he sat back on his heels
face morphing from demon to human visage as he did so.
Reaching behind her head he removed the
grips which held her hair in place, spreading it in shimmering
waves on the floor around her. His hands gripped the neckline
of her blouse and effortlessly tore it from top to bottom,
the remaining pieces dissolving as his hands pulled apart,
leaving her upper half bare except for a thin scrap of white
lace. Slowly, tauntingly, he drew the talon on his left
index finger across the delicate material, severing the
narrow strip where left and right hemispheres met. She felt
a sharp pain as the nail drew blood from a shallow cut.
He dipped his platinum head and extended his tongue, licking
the precious plasma from her ribs. She strained against
the manacles, wishing desperately to run her fingers through
his hair until it flopped into curls; free of the gel that
constrained its movement.
He watched her struggles and the reactions
that played across her face. He moved first one knee and
then the other, so that instead of pinning her hips between
his legs, he knelt between her parted thighs.
He drew a line with the tip of his tongue
from the centre of her chest to the already puckered aureole
of her left breast, circling several times before finally
sucking her nipple into his mouth. Her hips flexed upward
in an uncontrolled spasm. Even in her weakened state her
response to his touch was still fevered.
Finally he tore the last remnants of her
clothing from her, leaving her naked and vulnerable, whilst
he tauntingly remained half-clothed.
His mouth moved once more to her neck,
lapping and nuzzling at the wounds he made earlier, leaving
the area clean with only four small puncture wounds to indicate
that he had drawn blood from her. He drew his nail across
his wrist, drawing a line of blood to the surface. He brought
up, holding it just above her mouth so she was forced to
raise her head up off the floor to lick the wound, acknowledging
her desire for his intimate gift. As soon as she did so,
he lowered his arm allowing her mouth easier access to the
wound, stroking along the cut with her tongue and placing
kisses over it's length. Though she drew only a minuscule
amount of blood into her mouth, it seemed that her whole
body flushed as the faint coppery taint mingled with her
saliva. Every nerve ending became gloriously sensitive to
his touch, as if electric current flowed between the two
instead of an exchange of blood.
The chains that held her arms were gone,
though she knew that they had not been removed and she rose
to a kneeling position knee to knee, opposite him. They
stared into each other's eyes and for a moment it was as
if they were each other's mirrors. Blonde on blonde, her
eyes looking into his glorious molten chips of blue. Each
pair fervently seeking something more than passion and desire.
When they found acceptance in the other's eyes the blood
bond between them took over and each fell upon the other
in a frenzy.
Their mouths locked, tongues exploring
their partner's mouths. His left hand moved to cup her breast.
His thumb drew circles, teasing the erect point of her small
dusky nipple. His right hand drew her toward him, long slender
fingers grasping her buttock, pressing her hard against
him so she was pushed against the bulge in his jeans, which
was further emphasised by the subtle grinding motion of
his pelvis.
Reaching between them she pressed against
his swollen crotch, first with the heel of her hand, then
the palm followed by her fingers finally drawing her nails
across the ridges in the thick denim fabric. First one small
hand and then the other, until her fingertips reached the
waistband of his jeans. They brushed lightly across the
exposed planes of his stomach and when his muscles contracted
in response she gripped the waistband in both hands. She
gloried in the strength that allowed her to rip open the
front of his jeans and pull them down around his knees all
in one sharp movement.
His velvet smooth cock pressed against
her stomach. Unable to wait any longer she grasped his shoulders
in her hands pushing upwards she hooked her legs around
him.
"Now, Spike, Now!" she gasped. "I need
you now!" before she slowly impaled herself on his rock-hard
erection.
She woke to a felling of emptiness; alone,
her legs tangled up in her sweat-drenched sheets. Her body
ached for release, but only his cool dick stretching her
inner muscles, filling her so completely it hurt was going
to do it for her. She rubbed hard and fast at her clit trying
to force her body into submission, but the tension refused
to leave her body.
Eventually, she got up, got dressed and
went out to patrol.
That night she avoided the cemetery where
Spike had his crypt.
It had to be done. Really the weather was
way to warm for it but she didn't care. No way was Dawn
going to let a chance like this go by. She couldn't wait
to see Buffy's face. She kinda thought she might like to
see the look on the face of that cute guy in her art class
too.
She had used rollers in her hair so that
it fell in soft waves, a bit less little girlish than normal.
She was wearing a bit of mascara and some clear lip-gloss.
Just enough make-up to give her a helping hand, but nothing
that Buffy could justify telling her to take off. Her black
sleeveless top wasn't low-cut, but it was skin-tight. Black
bootleg jeans and high-heeled black boots completed her
accessories. The duster was the real outfit.
She stalked into the kitchen. (The heels
on the boots were a touch higher than she was used to, but
she needed them to avoid trailing the hem of the coat along
the ground. That meant she had a choice between stalking
through the house using kitchen units etc. to absorb her
momentum when she wanted to stop or turn a corner; or she
teetered, and that so wasn't right with this coat.) Towering
over her sister she grabbed a glass and fetched some orange
juice from the fridge.
"Wh-what? Why are you wearing Spike's coat?"
Buffy stuttered as she realised how Dawn was dressed. She
was having nasty thoughts about the last guy who gave Dawn
his jacket. What the hell had the peroxide pervert been
up to with Dawn? Was this his idea of getting his own back
on her for dumping him? He was so-o-o dust.
"Because it's cool, and he gave it to me."
"Why would Spike give you his coat? He
even keeps it on when he's." The sentence died on Buffy's
lips stillborn. She coloured, as she thought of her and
Spike, against the wall in the abandoned house, in the alley
at the back of DMP, on the balcony in the Bronze, in their
front yard. Hell, she was getting turned on by his coat!
She didn't even have to see him. All it took was the scent
of leather, cigarettes and him.
Dawn shrugged. "Something to remember him
by? He picked me up from school yesterday so he could say
goodbye properly before he headed out." 'Maybe he'd have
given it to you if you hadn't been such a primo be-atch!'
she thought.
Dawn deliberately avoided telling her sister
that she knew Spike had every intention of coming back.
Spike had all but said that he still wanted to come round,
but Buffy didn't want him in the house. It was up to her
to help her retarded sister wake up and smell the hottie.
Buffy might think everyone was oblivious,
but she (and Willow) knew there was something going on with
Spike. There was only one vamp she could have been talking
about when she made that comment about, "He's not getting
any gentler." The stuttering when she tried to cover had
been a sure give away. When she was startled Buffy was a
crap liar. It had been common knowledge for ages how Spike
felt about Buffy, so if they were sneaking around getting
grass stains on Buffy's duffle coat but not telling anyone
they were seeing each other, it had to be Buffy being a
bitch. Dawn would bet a year's allowance that given half
a chance, that the Big Bad would be as soppy as any overgrown
teenager with his first date.
Dawn swore if Buffy didn't get a grip soon
and make an honest vamp of him, then she'd give Buffy a
run for her money in a couple of years. She was made from
Buffy. In a way she was a younger Buffy, and let's face
it Spike wasn't getting any older. They already loved each
other, but for it to ever be anything else would take years.
She knew that Spike didn't consider her in a sexual way,
so for now her unrequited crush was doomed to remain just
that. The thing was she also loved him like an older brother,
a dropped-dead gorgeous older brother who happened to be
no relation, perhaps, but she loved him just the same, so
she wanted him to be happy now.
"Goodbye? He didn't tell me he was leaving.
Why didn't he tell me he was leaving?"
"Why doesn't he get invited to Scooby meetings?
Or birthday parties? Why should he tell you?" Dawn finished
her drink and picked up her bag. "You all only give him
the time of day when you need him for something nobody else
can do. Everybody treated him like a person over the summer,
but as soon as you were back, he was disposable. You can't
cope with how he feels about you, so everyone starts treating
him like garbage." She grasped the door-handle. "See you
when you get in from work." Dawn made her exit.
'How's that for something to think about
while you're flipping burgers?'
"Wait, where was he going?" Buffy rushed
to catch the door before it shut.
At the far end of the path Dawn pretended
not to hear.
Buffy had a nine o'clock start that day,
so she didn't have an opportunity to find out any more about
Spike's disappearance until later. All of which meant she
had far longer than she would have liked to think about
what Dawn had said, and how she'd managed to drive another
man away, not that she wanted him, and he wasn't really
a man either.
Maybe, she wasn't the only person who was
using him. During her break she rang Tara and arranged to
meet her for a coffee after she got off work.
Tara was already seated at a table drinking
an iced mocha when Buffy made it to the coffee bar. Buffy
quickly ordered and then joined her.
"Okay, sweetie, what's up?"
In her present state, Tara's innocent question
gave Buffy pause. Apart from asking her to her birthday
party, Buffy realised that since "the split" she had only
spoken to Tara when she wanted something.
"Hey, I don't want you to think there has
to be something up before I call you. There is, but I also
thought I'd ask if you wanted to go to the Bronze with Dawn
and I on the first Friday after the wedding?"
"Sure, but you could have asked that one
over the phone, so spill."
"Spike's gone... and he didn't even say
goodbye." It was impossible to judge from Buffy's voice
how she felt about that.
"Oh! Which bit of that is the bit that's
worrying you?"
"Both... neither... I don't know... maybe,
that he might think I wouldn't care that he left?"
"Well, I don't think he'd expect you to
get all upset over him going away for a few days. Maybe
he was just busy getting ready to leave and he didn't have—"
Buffy cut in as she realised what Tara
just said. "Why did you say it's just for a few days?"
Tara looked slightly embarrassed. "He left
a message asking if I'd do a spell for him. He said he'd
probably be at the wedding, but if he wasn't not to worry.
It was too late to go to the Magic Box yesterday by the
time I got the message, but I was going to head over there
after we finished here."
"He didn't want you to do a love spell
on me, did he?" Buffy immediately thought of Spike's reaction
to Drusilla's rejection.
"Quite the opposite, in a way. He wanted
me to do a protection spell on everyone."
"What is he up to?"
"Anyway, it seems to me that there can't
be any harm in putting up a protective spell. I just wish
I knew what I was meant to be protecting against. There's
one other strange thing though. He said to do the spell
on everyone to be on the safe side, but he asked very specifically
to see that you, me and Dawn were covered, and that I should
use the most powerful spell I could do."
"So he phoned you, and he made a point
of seeing Dawn, but he couldn't even come in when he dropped
her off to tell me he was going."
"Buffy, he phoned me because he wanted
me to do the spell, not because he was doing a big goodbye
speech, and he said he was going to phone Anya to let her
know that he would cover the bill for anything I needed
for the spell. He should be back on Saturday. I bet the
only person that got a special goodbye was Dawn. You two
have had an argument, right? He probably thinks he'll be
back before you notice he's gone."
"But, I broke up with him yesterday morning,
and then this morning Dawn was wearing his coat. Sh-she
said he gave it to her as a reminder of him when he said
goodbye."
"Buffy, how upset was Dawn this morning?"
"She wasn't... She was all excited at having
his coat." Comprehension finally "dawned" on Buffy. "The
little..." Buffy looked for a word suitable to use for a
member of her own family.
"Minx?" Tara smiled softly.
"If you broke up with him that morning,
he probably just wanted some breathing space to pull himself
together, in which case you would be the last person he'd
be wanting to speak to. How did he take it?"
Buffy thought about what he'd looked like
and tears welled up behind her own eyes. "He looked like
a man who just had his heart broken. He all but begged me
not to do it. Then I told him that using him was killing
me. I never thought anyone could look so hurt. I never want
to see another person look at me like that again. It was
like however much he was hurt for himself, just the thought
that I was in pain was ten times worse. After that he just
stopped arguing." Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Oh, Buffy." Tara's voice conveyed a world
of sympathy.
"I've been such a bitch since I came back,
and he still cares more about my feelings than all the hurt
I've caused him." Tara moved to sit beside Buffy rather
than opposite her. She put her arms round the smaller woman
and let her cry on her shoulder.
"I wanted to love him. I told myself for
months that I couldn't, that he was evil, that he was a
soulless vampire and I was a slayer. If I could love him
them I hadn't rid the world of hundreds of monsters; I'm
a mass murderer. I kept him at a distance for so long. I
told myself it was just sex. As soon as my knees stopped
shaking, I ran. No holding, no cuddling. I never let him
say a tender word, never let him be gentle with me." She
sniffed and wiped away tears from her face.
"When Riley came back... I can't believe
I did this. I was sort of flirting with him. I think maybe
I thought we'd get back together. I was just about to kiss
him when his wife turned up. And they're happy. You can
tell from a mile off that they're happy. I was supposed
to be the love of his life. Everybody said he loved me but
I held back, so why is he over me and happy with someone
else, and I'm alone." She tried to smile at Tara through
the tears.
"I felt so alone and I just wanted to be
loved, so I went to Spike. I made him tell me he loved me
and that he wanted me. I let him open up his heart to me
and lay himself open. I let him hold me, and, God, when
we made love I swear we both cried. I don't think I made
a conscious decision, but I don't think I could have put
things back how they were before.
It was like making a fresh start, but he
was lying to me the whole time. I'd asked him about "the
Doctor" and he'd acted as if he never heard of him, but
it was him. He was who I'd been looking for and he just
lied through his teeth. What I thought was this incredible
love scene was his way of stopping me from looking downstairs.
His bedroom was full of demon eggs that he was even too
stupid to store properly, so we spent the night on top of
a stone coffin."
"Buffy, I think you're wrong. He wouldn't...
I mean I'm sure his feelings were genuine. Besides, have
you never noticed that Spike has to be almost the worst
liar I've ever seen? He stutters nearly as bad as me. Didn't
he have any explanation?"
"He said he had... but I wouldn't listen
to him..." Buffy began to consider that there might be shades
of grey in this discussion. "He still had the eggs though.
There just can't be a good reason for him to have those.
If Riley and I hadn't been there when they hatched, who
knows how many people would have been killed?"
"Who would have been first?"
"What are... Oh. Him."
"And did you stop to think why with all
the empty crypts and everything just in his cemetery why
were they in his bedroom?"
Buffy looked even more unsure of herself.
"You said he didn't store them properly.
Are you sure he even knew what they were? Vampires may be
virtually immortal, but even so you don't live to Spike's
age if you're stupid. There are too many loose ends. I think
maybe you should at least hear him out on that explanation,
sweetie."
"Riley found us together. He... He said
that it was... within mission parameters... He asked me
if I wanted him to kill him." Buffy looked up, her eyes
red but no longer crying. "I can't let him close. Some day
he'll do something and people'll be hurt or killed and I'll
have to kill him."
"Like you killed Xander?"
"What? What are you saying?"
"Xander was directly responsible for the
deaths of all those people who burned to death when he summoned
that singing demon. As I recall no one, not even Giles,
said a single harsh word to him.
I don't know about these eggs, but since
Spike said he was in love with you, there's been some stuff
he's done that's been pretty warped, like chaining you up
and the robot, but I can't think of anything that's actually
evil. It seems the more he's around people, the more he
remembers to act like a person."
"Dawn said we all ignore him except when
we need him. She said he had a place when I was dead. That
when I came back he wasn't needed any more and because I
wasn't comfortable around him everybody treats him like
dirt."
"I know over the summer, no one thought
anything of it if he stopped by the house to see Dawn even
if he wasn't babysitting, and he was quite often babysitting.
You'll know better than I do how often he comes over now.
Xander toned it down a bit for a while, when he saw, well
it hit Spike really hard, you know. Now Xander's acting
like it's his job to keep Spike away from you again. That
causes friction that carries over into their whole relationship.
Giles was basically the same again, but even more extreme.
One day they're patrolling together and cracking jokes and
a couple of months later you get that comment about Giles
never wanting Spike's opinion. The guys see him as a threat
you have to be protected from and I don't think he's comfortable
visiting Dawn any more. All of us used to go out on patrol
together except Dawn so that was a group thing. Does he
go to meetings now?"
"So he was better off when I was dead."
"No! I don't think Dawn meant that and
I know Spike would never say that."
"Even so, he got on better with everybody
else when I wasn't here." Buffy sighed.
Dawn was overjoyed when she got a text
message the following Thursday. "STILL LA. BACK V LATE FRI.
LEAVE COAT CRYPT? FOR WEDDING SAT. C U SOON."
Buffy on the other hand had no idea that
her sister was in contact with Spike. She had started to
patrol until she was all but exhausted in an effort to forestall
the dreams in which he had a starring role. Her conversation
with Tara had left her in a sort of limbo until she heard
exactly what Spike's explanation was. She had been sure
about her decision. Now it had been called into question.
Would things ever be simple where Spike was concerned?
Spike was enjoying himself. The girl from
the club had brought her sister with her. They had also
brought a bunch of tapes. He'd told her that he'd made the
mistake of leaving home with only the tape that was in the
deck at the time. They had discussed musical tastes and
found some common ground. Some was expected, the Cramps,
the Damned, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Clash but he
was more surprised to find that she also liked some things
that he knew must have come out decades before she was born.
Early Rolling Stones, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, delta
blues, Motown and Louis Armstrong.
It had been just after dusk when he picked
the girls up. They had loved the de Soto, but been puzzled
by the blacked out windows. Spike had been expecting this
and putting on a bad eastern European accent he said, "I
am Nosferatu, childe of darkness, drinker of blood." He
switched back to his normal voice; "Actually it means I
can sleep through the day in the car when I have to if I
get stuck in the middle of nowhere." As expected the girls,
(one was called Jenny and the other Jane, but he wasn't
actually sure which was which so he avoided using either
name) thought he was joking about the vampire bit, especially
when he ordered pizza at a roadside diner.
They had stayed off the freeway taking
roads running along the coast. They wound all the windows
down, playing tapes at full volume and singing along even
louder, no doubt scaring old ladies and small children in
some of the smaller towns they passed through. Some of the
songs were obvious seaside road-trip music, like the Beach
Boys and California Dreamin' by the Mama's and the Papa's.
Some just appealed to the girls' sense of the absurd, for
example The Sisters of Mercy doing a cover version of Jolene
by Dolly Parton. He wondered what the girl's reaction would
be if he made the necessary detour to knock down the Sunnydale
sign, but then decided to do it when he went to pick up
his duster instead.
It had been a very long time since he had
spent this much time with people who didn't know what he
was. He sometimes still found it difficult to talk to strangers,
and in Sunnydale his reputation preceded him in a lot of
cases. He felt for the first time in ages as if he was being
judged for who he was not what he was. As they approached
the outskirts of Sunnydale, the three gave fair warning
to all those who could hear them coming.
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line between good and evil
Spike had rung ahead and booked two rooms
for them at a small motel, a twin room for the girls and
a double for him. He would normally have stayed at his crypt,
but since he wanted to be more presentable than the norm
in the morning he had decided that running water would be
an advantage. He'd bought some new clothes as well while
he was in LA and he wanted to avoid having them smell of
cordite at the wedding.
Once he had sorted out their registrations,
he explained he had to run an errand and would see the girls
later. When he got back he pulled the car in as close to
his room door as possible. He was surprised to see a note
stuck to his room door with chewing gum, and written in
dark purple lipstick. "Gone for midnight swim. See you at
beach?"
Spike tried, without success, to remember
the last time he'd gone swimming. Why the hell not?
The next morning Spike was not in the best
of moods. The three had stayed up really late. They had
swum and then they had gone for a walk along the beach and
finally they had lit a bonfire, opened a case of beer and
sat talking for hours, until a sudden storm had blown in
from the sea, and their dwindling fire had been swamped.
In theory, he could have had four or five hours sleep before
he had to get ready for the wedding. In practice, the thought
of seeing Buffy again the following day made sleep impossible.
He didn't know which he dreaded more, seeing
her happy without him or seeing her miserable. He thought
about getting in the car and driving across town just so
he could park down the street and watch her house. Maybe
if he drove over, her light would be on and he'd know she
couldn't sleep either. Then he remembered his conversation
with Dawn and decided that he was not going to leave any
more cigarette butts anywhere where she might find them.
He could stay away from Buffy. He walked past the car and
back down to the beach. The weather made it a rather unpleasant
place to be, but still he preferred it to his motel room.
He walked off down the beach, choosing the opposite direction
to that taken by the group earlier.
Six hours later, Spike and his date (he
still couldn't remember if she was Jenny or Jane) pulled
up outside the Sunnydale Bison Lodge.
"What d'ya think? Arms round shoulders,
holding hands, what?" Spike exited the car and moved to
meet his fellow conspirator.
"Shoulders. Looks more intimate."
"Shoulders it is then, pet." He placed
an arm around her and steered her toward the main door of
the building.
Spike couldn't believe how nervous he felt
about seeing her again. He scanned around to see if she
was in the foyer, but he couldn't see her so he began to
move to one side away from the doors. He heard his name
being called from the far side of the room. Before he turned
round, which was more complicated than it sounds as he was
still joined at the shoulders to his date, he whispered,
"little sister".
"Oh. Uh, I want you to meet my date." Spike
was rapidly convincing himself that this was one of his
worse ideas.
"Hi. I'm Dawn." She held out her hand for
a handshake. Spike listened to see if his date said her
own name in response.
"Uh-huh."
"So, yeah. Anyway, that's my date. She's
with me. My date for the wedding." 'When will I learn
to put my brain in gear before I start my mouth?' Spike
asked himself even as he continued to babble at Dawn.
"Yeah. Okay, well, nice meeting you." Dawn
wondered if there was the slightest possibility of that
girl being a real date, and decided the answer was no. The
way he had his arm round her was too stiff. They both looked
tense at being so close. Dawn would bet he didn't know her
name. Quite possibly she didn't know her own name, unless
it really was "Uh-huh". But hey, if he wanted to try making
Buffy jealous, who was she to spoil the fun. In fact, time
to go spread the news.
"Very cool?" His date looked him over.
The hair was perfect. The black satin shirt was open just
enough to show a hint of smooth white chest. There was no
way to improve on the duster and he had a brand new pair
of "New Rock" boots he'd bought specially instead of his
normal scuffed lace-ups. "Calm down, you're acting like
a nervous wreck and you've not even seen her. You look great.
She's going to be wearing a dress that should be illegal
outside of a St Patrick's day parade. You have the upper
hand. Let's go."
"Eh, go where?"
"Well, she's not here, so let's try the
reception room."
His date looked around the room. She turned
and whispered in Spike's ear.
"Say, Spike, did you put something in the
milk for my cornflakes this morning, or are some of these
people not people?"
"Oh, they're all people, they're just not
all human. Long story. Don't worry about it."
"Ri-i-ight."
Spike, had a bad feeling. Harris's dad
had just got up to propose a toast. The bar had yet to officially
open but Harris snr. had probably bullied the bar staff
into serving him and was already slurring his words. If
the arguments he'd heard when he'd stayed with Xander, were
anything to go by no one wanted to hear any toast the elder
Harris might make in his current state, not least because
he was the only one in the room who had a drink. Somebody
better shut him up, fast, and look, monkey boy was leaving
the room with some old fart instead of doing anything about
it. Maybe if they'd asked him to be an usher he might have
done it for them, but not his job. If Harris wanted to get
a bunch of cousins that he never saw as opposed to someone
they knew, even if he didn't like the bricklayer then it
was up to them to stop the trouble, not him. Harris deserved
all the embarrassment his father could provide and serve
him right too. Demon-bint didn't deserve it though. A quick
smack in the mouth might work, but it wasn't going to get
him any Brownie points.
Too late now, anyway, that tentacle demon
obviously had the same idea.
Suddenly, Buffy was there, steering the
drunken patriarch from the room. She had an arm round him
and he had his head bent over toward her, trying to look
down the front of her dress. Spike could hear the lewd suggestions
that he was making to her and he wanted to punch him out
even more. He realised he'd been staring and he turned around
to face his date again. How could she let him touch her,
say things like that to her. He smiled when he heard her
tone change from the overly bright one she'd been using.
"You finish that sentence and I guarantee you won't have
anything to show." Now, that was his Buffy.
Even with that dress, a hunk of yellow
nylon the size of a dead cat stuck to the back of her head
and an inebriated lech attached to her arm he thought she
looked beautiful.
"So that was the one?"
"Yeah. That's her."
"You've got it bad for her haven't you?"
"Bad as it gets, I reckon."
"D'you want to talk to her? Or d'you just
want to admire her from a distance?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose if we talk here
we have to keep it civilised."
"So... I'll go pretend to fix my make-up.
That should get you a full ten minutes. You wait in the
corner over there. She'll be going backwards and forwards
between, the foyer, the reception hall and the rooms where
the rest of the wedding party are. If you hang around there
she has to go past."
Spike looked around, not so much scanning
the room as trying to avoid staring at anyone now that he
had nothing to fill the time until his date came back or
someone he knew turned up for him to talk to. He became
aware that the footsteps, which had been heading rapidly
toward the door, had come to a stop some distance away.
He looked over, and it was her, Buffy, obviously reluctant
to go past him. Uncomfortable, he looked at the floor, hoping
the lack of eye contact would allow her passage. Head down,
he watched her feet approach. His eyes flicked upwards and
once he looked into her face he couldn't let her go without
saying something. He straightened up from his slouched position
against the wall, so that she now stood directly facing
him.
"Hello, Buffy"
"Hey."
"So, the happy occasion." Out of small
talk Spike tried bravado, "You meet my friend?"
"No. Not yet. But she seems like a very
nice attempt at making me jealous."
He gave a small snort. She found him so
transparent. "Is it working?"
"A little. It doesn't change anything...
but if you're wildly curious, yeah, it hurts."
"I'm sorry." His first reaction to her
pain was remorse, and then he remembered that that had been
the point of the exercise, "Or... Good!"
Buffy smiled, amused by his ambivalence.
"You want us to go?"
"No. No, I... You have every right to be
here. I pretty much deserve—"
"That's not true, you..." Automatically
he defended her, even from herself, his feelings there to
be seen in his eyes. He sighed and looked to the heavens
for inspiration. "God, this is hard."
"Yeah."
He sighed again. "I think we'll go."
"Go where? To your place?
"Yeah, I suppose." The motel was basically
his place at the moment, at least until he got the crypt
cleaned out. "That was the idea."
"Yeah."
"Evil."
"Of course."
"But I won't. Or I..." His awkwardness
was overcome by frustration. "I'll just go. Give 'em my
best or whatever. The happy couple."
"I will."
His grimace turned into a quiet smile.
"It's nice to watch you be happy. For them,
even. I don't see it a lot. You, uh... you glow."
Buffy smiled. "That's because the dress
is radioactive."
Spike gave a brief snort of amusement and
a whole second passed where they just enjoyed the moment
together.
"I should..." Buffy broke the silence,
hinting at duties to perform.
"Yeah." He moved marginally aside, as she
moved round him.
"But it hurts?" Spike sought again the
reassurance that he was not alone in his pain.
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
Buffy waited till he was beyond the range
of human hearing before she said, "You're welcome." But
then Spike wasn't human.
Spike intercepted Jenny or Jane or whatever
the hell her name was on her way from the toilet, taking
her by the hand.
"Let's go then." He moved towards a fire
exit, pulling the girl in his wake.
"What about the wedding?"
"Let's just piss off, all right?" He dragged
his off-balance date through the door.
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