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Tiana
Reviews: Yes and please and thank you.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. But if anyone’s offering, I’ll take Spike.
Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com
Summary: Set in the middle of Season 6. Spike's struggle to get a soul and Buffy's struggle to love him...with or without it...
Sunnydale Cemetery, 10:15 p.m.
I can’t stand it. I really can’t. Why do I want something, someone I just shouldn‘t have? Want is not a strong enough word... I crave, desire, need. When he saunters up to me and cocks that eyebrow, I experience a feeling that no one has found a name for. It consumes me. He is everything I shouldn’t have and everything I can’t live without tied up in a delectable leather-wrapped package. So, naturally, I punch him.
"OW! Bloody hell, woman! I didn’t even say anything to you!" Spike loses all his swagger as he checks his nose for damage.
"Well, you were thinking something! And it was wrong! I TOLD you ...it can’t happen again." My certainty wavers by the end, but maybe he didn’t notice.
"What’s that, luv?" Reassured that I didn’t break his nose, the glint is back in his eye. He did notice.
"You know what, and you’re not dragging me into this conversation again. We are done. Can we just get back to patrolling?"
"Fine, luv. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ll drop it. Let’s see if we can dust some more of my old friends and family to make the evening extra special." Sarcasm. There’s a shocker from the mouth of Spike.
The rest of the evening passes without too much incident. A couple more vamps make the mistake of crossing our paths, but all in all, a pretty quiet evening. Now, the part that makes me weak. Saying good night. As we finish our lap of the last cemetery near my house, I turn to Spike. Better do it quick and above all, avoid eye contact. I duck my head, letting my hair slide and cover my face a bit. "Alright, then. That should do it. Good night, Spike." I turn towards home, attempting a quick getaway.
I fail.
"Hey now, Slayer. What’s the rush? The night is young and so are we...well, you are, anyway. Surely we can find some more fun ?"
I pause, but I don’t turn around. It’s not a good idea to make eye contact, Buffy. I’m chanting it to myself, no eye contact, no eye contact. " We’re not having any more of that kind of fun, Spike." My voice is quiet, restrained. I hope he can’t hear how my breath is catching in my throat.
"Never said anything of the kind, now did I? Guess your mind is the one wandering down that path, eh?" He’s smirking, I just know it. I can hear it in his voice. "I was thinking of some pool down at the Bronze. Or maybe darts, luv. They just put up the boards and you’re awfully good with pointy things."
"Spike..."
"Slay...Buffy. Can you turn and look at me, luv?" Damn him. Just when I am thinking I can write him off as sleazy, he turns all Prince Charming again. I turn a little, look at him out of the corner of my eye. Maybe that doesn’t count as eye contact...
"Just come with me to the Bronze for a little while." He stops, looks down for a minute, his brow creases, and then his eyes are back on me. Oh man, there it is. Eye contact.
Huge sigh. I crack under the power of those baby blues. "Okay. But no funny stuff, I mean it, Spike." I start to walk off quickly, forcing him to trail behind me "I AM awfully good with pointy things..." My voice pitches higher. "...and if you don’t stop looking at my ass, you will find yourself on the business end of one!"
"WHA...! Alright, fine..." He runs to catch up with me, probably wondering how I knew what he was doing. It’s because I know him, know him very well....and it’s exactly what I would have done in the same situation.
* * * * *
The Bronze, 11:30 p.m.
"Something to drink, Slayer? I’m gettin’ a beer." I give him a look. He knows I can‘t hold my booze. And let’s not forget, beer bad.
"Just a Coke. Uh..thanks." It always throws me when he’s nice. He acts like just a regular guy instead of the vampire I know him to be. I just shake my head. Stay strong, Buffy. Evil. Soulless. Thing. He is not the man for you. Hell, he’s not even a man. Get a grip! And stop talking to yourself! He’s back!
"Your Coke, luv." He hands it to me, gently brushing my fingers as he does. I wonder if he did that on purpose just to see me quiver the tiniest bit. The look on his face confirms that he did. " I got us the first lane over here seeing as it is your first time...playing darts, I mean. That way any stray darts have less risk of injuring an innocent bystander."
"Ha Ha, Spike. Do you really think I will miss that big board? I’ve been throwing knives since I was 15, I think I can handle darts. Now...move out of the way. " I grab a hold of the tip of the dart, and wind up, preparing to throw it just like a dagger.
"No no, pet, you’re scaring the locals." People do seem to be backing away a little bit. "This way...."
He takes my hand, releases the dart and rotates it so I’ve got my first two fingers and thumb on the shaft just below the flights. I’m so distracted by his cool touch on my suddenly hot little hands, that I don’t realize he is now behind me, his chest lightly pressed against my back as he reaches around. He’s got his hand around my hand on the dart.
"You hold onto the shaft very lightly, don’t grab it. Just lightly hold it with the tips of your fingers.." He’s moving my fingers and I think I’m starting to get dizzy from the proximity. Did he just say shaft? Mind! Out of the gutter!
" Now look down the shaft and line it up with where you are shooting. That would be the bullseye, luv."
I swallow hard and whisper ,"Yeah, I figured that." Where is all my tough talk now? I’m just putty in his hands. His firm cool hands that are all over my.... what is he saying?
"...release and then follow through with your arm. And there you have it. Darts 101." Whoops, I missed the middle part of my lesson. I peek at the guys in the next lane, deciding to copy them and try to fake it. Slayer skills should help me somehow, right?
"Right, right. Okay." He can totally tell I wasn’t listening. Why does he have to know me so well?
"Here, I’ll guide your first throw. Just relax." RELAX? He’s standing directly behind me, one hand wrapped around mine and one...where is the other one?
On my HIP! And I’m going to relax?
I have to act like he is not having any effect on me. Deep breaths, slow the heart rate. Try not to fall into that thick leather smell, that oh-so-Spike way of smelling like the night air, cool and crisp and a bit dangerous. Just makes me want to breathe him in. But first, relax.
"Slayer! Hello, slayer strength a bit of a problem here. Relax!" I am clutching the dart so tightly my fingertips are white. I let up. "There we go, now bend at the elbow and throw..." He guides my arm in a fluid motion and the dart ends up just outside the bullseye. I’m following through like he said, so my left arm is now pointing towards the dart board and his arm is stretched the length of it, hand still on my hand. I don’t think I can move. He slowly bends my arm back with his and turns me toward him, still holding my left hand. His eyes are the deep blue of the night sky.
"Not bad, luv. Not bad at all..." he says it low and syrupy, nearly purring. I don’t know if he means the throw or something else entirely, and I’m not going to ask. I quickly pull my hand out of his and take two steps back. I back into the tall table with our drinks and nearly topple it. Trying to recover, I turn and grab my Coke. The glass is sweating from the heat in the bar, little drops of moisture running down the sides. I feel the same way. He’s still looking at me when I bring the glass to my lips and slowly sip. I’m watching him over the rim, trying desperately to break eye contact, but failing miserably. Finally, mercifully, he looks away, saving me. Then he moves closer, reaching past me to get his beer.
"Shall we play, then?"
Oh yes....
* * * * *
The Bronze, 12:45 a.m.
I’m laughing hysterically. I don’t remember Spike being this funny before. Of course, this could all go back to the fact that my Cokes became rums and Coke awhile back. I’m not drunk though. I’m just giddy. I’m finally starting to forget my worries. Just for tonight. Willow is home with Dawn and I’m out with my man...my mortal enemy! Mortal enemy! He is not my man. He was my plaything, my toy and it was wrong wrong wrong. I wish he would stop staring at me. Maybe it’s because I’m just laughing and having my own internal conversations. "What are you lookin’ at, mister?"
"I would tell if it wouldn’t get me staked, luv. I prefer to un-live a bit longer yet..."
"Awright, Spike, I’ll give you one Get Out of Staking Free card. Tell me what is on your mind."
"That’s a loaded question, Slayer. How ‘bout I take the card and redeem it a later date, when I really need it?"
"Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to do it... Now where were we... I remember, I was kicking your undead British ass at darts! I thought this was some kind of English sporty thing. Why am I so much better at it than you, old chap?" I know what I am doing and I just don’t care. I like getting him riled up.
"I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and just let my darts do the talking, eh luv?" He locks his eyes on mine as he throws at the board. Bullseye. We’re playing Cricket, one throw per turn, and all he needs now is a 20. I need a double bullseye to win. I step up to the line. I’ve just got to win. Slayer pride and girl power and all that stuff. I squint down the dart, lining up the bullseye. I pull my arm back and just as I release, I feel a hand lightly pinch my ass. The dart swerves and I miss the bull completely, landing three inches to the right. "Oi! Luv, that guy just grabbed your arse. Want me to go after him?"
I spin around and don’t see anyone but him behind me. I close my eyes to a sliver and grind out, "Your turn." I know he did it and I could bitch him out, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction. We’ll see how well he throws with a distraction named Buffy at his side. With practiced ease, Spike spins the dart in his hand and then lines up his shot. I wait for his arm to start moving forward and then stand on my tiptoes and suck his earlobe between my lips for a split second. His reaction is immediate and the dart ends up stuck into the wall above the board. "Bloody hell!" He turns on his heel to give me a lashing and I’m standing there sipping my drink.
"Oh, is it my turn, now? Bad luck, that...I’ll get a different dart since that one is too high for me to reach..." I grab a dart, set my drink down and move to the line. " Spike?"
"Yeah?" He’s still stuck somewhere between mad and completely aroused by my recent actions.
"Wanna place a wager on this game? I win, I pick the prize. You win, you pick..."
"Pick anything?"
I turn to look at him. I am truly out of my mind tonight, but it really feels damn good. "Anything."
"Abso-bloody-lutely, Slayer." I know he is really hoping I’ll miss now. He naturally assumes his choice will be more to his liking. Little does Spike know what I’ve got in mind. I’ve got to stop kidding myself. He’s not my man. Ha. Tonight, he is whatever I want him to be. I turn and focus on the board, aiming ever so carefully. I give him a warning look over my shoulder. He shows me his hands, proving they are nowhere near my ass. I turn back to the board and close my eyes. When I open them, I am completely focused and I throw. Double bull.
"Oh, bloody hell. Guess the party’s over."
I slam the rest of my drink and take his hand, dragging him towards the back door. "Guess again."
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