Buffy wandered into Willy’s Bar and demanded a drink of anything that wasn’t demon in origin. Anya was broken after the debacle that should have been her happiest day and Xander was still missing. And what was with Spike and that trashy ho? Trying to make her jealous……….Buffy needed some alternate reality and figured she’d find it in the last place she should be looking. She still had on the Day-Glo green dress that marked her as a bridesmaid from hell and snarled and glared at the other patrons as she’d knocked back shot after shot of JD until the bar had emptied, leaving her alone with the bartender.




JD. That was his drink. Couldn’t she escape from thoughts of him even in her sad and lonely drinking? Willy cringed every time she made her drinking face, thinking it heralded a pissed off Slayer and expensive bar trashing. So far, thankfully, the only casualty appeared to be the nice bottle of bourbon.



“Hey, Willy! C’mere…” Willy slid over to the Slayer who was now rocking unsteadily on her stool.



“Yeah, Slayer. What can I get you?” He prayed she’d had enough.



“Whassat…….whassat say?”




Willy followed her gaze to the notice pinned up behind the bar. He swallowed nervously. No….she wouldn’t…..why would she? He chuckled to himself for his ridiculous mind warp.



“This? Oh, just need a waitress. Keep disappearing from here for some reason. Can’t think why?” Willy smiled his gap-toothed smile until he noted the furrowed brow and squinting eyes trying to focus on the notice. He went cold. Suddenly Buffy lurched off the stool and vaulted the bar, pulling the notice from the wall.



Grinning inanely and almost managing to speak without slurring, she slammed the paper down on the counter.



“Willy! Look no further….consider me in gainful employment.”



Willy groaned.



+++++++++++++



It had been a week since he’d last seen Buffy at the whelp’s wedding. He hoped the demon bird and the boy were getting it on somewhere to celebrate their union, because he sure as hell wasn’t getting any touch. Last skin he’d licked was golden and though he’d locked lips with his wedding date - otherwise known as ‘Miss Get Buffy Jealous’ - he’d been thinking of pink lips rather than scarlet and nearly choked on her studded tongue. Hell, he’d had everything offered up to him on a pale platter but he couldn’t raise the interest never mind the dick. The skanky ho had been a big mistake he’d dumped as soon as he’d left the wedding. She’d left him hate messages. Sweet.



Still there was always alcohol. Alcohol was his friend. He’d spent the past week getting intimately acquainted with the taste of every different brand of scotch he could lay his hands on – which on the Hellmouth was bloody lots of them. But now he was coming up empty. Grabbing his duster and his smokes he headed out to Willy’s.



Striding into the bar, his icy blue gaze raked the interior noting which demons were worth watching, which worth ignoring, which worth beating. Nothing doing tonight in the fight stakes, very poor turnout. Piss poor in fact. Polishing a bar stool it would have to be then. He strode through the room, duster hugging his hard body and flowing behind him as he walked. He took a seat between two no marks, not bothered in the slightest when they quickly downed their drinks and slunk away. He didn’t mind his own company as long as he had his old friend Jack Daniels to talk to every now and then. Speaking of….



“Hey! Little service over here, yeah?” He rapped on the bar top impatiently, eyes swivelling away to check out the far reaches of the room. Tinglies. Slayer tinglies. Here? What the…….



Giving up his initial search he spun back round to grab his drink. He smiled at the girl who’d served him and grabbed the glass, tipped it up, head back……and promptly sprayed it all over the bar as his brain caught up with his eyes.



“Ewwwwwww! You’ve made me all wet…….and stinky! You are so buying me a new shirt, Spike.”



Spike was speechless. The Slayer. Here. Behind the bar. Serving. Alcohol. To him.



Finally managing to work his voice box, he squeaked out, “What’re you doing here, Slayer? This a new ploy, hunt the vamps by selling ‘em beer?”



“Nah, but now you mention it…….hold on……customer.” Buffy wandered up the bar serving a vampire and two Fyarl demons with their many hued drinks, wrinkling her nose as she poured from dusty bottles. Spike watched in amazement as she garnished the yak’s milk and virgin blood cocktail she’d fixed for the Fyarls with a cherry and a paper umbrella, the pink tip of her tongue peeking out as she concentrated. He found himself shaking his head in disbelief as she handed the drinks to the two bemused demons and bounced back towards him.



Was this the same Slayer? The ‘stake up her ass, I’m so depressed keep sharp objects away from me’ Buffy of recent months? She was smiling, joking with the bar patrons as she made her way back to where he sat wide-eyed with amazement. Willy shouted from the back just as she reached Spike’s position.



“Yeah? What?”



The vampire caught the hollered instructions but Buffy didn’t seem to and asked for it to be repeated. She still stood there, head tilted quizzically obviously not hearing him despite the repeat.



“He’s asking you to check on the kittens, pet. Make sure they’re still wriggling, give ‘em some milk. Got a big poker game here later? Might be looking to be dealt in….”



“Oh. Right. And sorry – all the chairs are taken.”



Spike growled. Thoughts of scamming some kitties had piqued his interest a little but being brushed off so easily ticked him off. Did she forget who he was? Bloody hell! Was there nobody left in this damn town who would show him any respect? And whose fault was that?



“You know what, Slayer – sod your bloody kittens. Just give me that bottle and leave me be. Came in looking for some quiet alone time so go and hound some other poor bloke.”



What? Buffy thought back over what she’d said and done. Nope. Still couldn’t pinpoint the thing that had set him off. Truth be told, she’d expected Spike to come in sooner or later – oh come on, you wanted it to be sooner you little slut you – and had nearly convinced herself that when he did she’d totally ignore him because he meant nothing to her. Nothing at all. Nada.



But when he’d slid onto the stool and ordered his drink, something about that velvet smooth voice had her pulse racing and her lips curving into a small smile that she’d tried to hide when she turned round with the full glass. The look on his face when he’d spat the liquor out was priceless. Finally, she’d done something to shock him.



And now she’d managed to upset him without even trying, definitely something she was good at. She was about to continue their tense conversation, do the whole ‘Had a bad day? Wanna talk about it?’ gig when Willy came back through to the bar telling her he’d check the kittens himself and asked her to clear some tables. Reluctantly and without speaking to Spike again as she couldn’t catch his eye, she grabbed a cloth, laid it over her shoulder and went out onto the floor.



Spike knew she’d been trying to get his attention, had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes as he cradled the glass of JD against his chest. He wasn’t giving in though. Time was the Slayer just had to tug on his leash and he’d go all loyal hound on her. Well that was before she’d helped soldier-boy trash his crypt and walked all over his broken heart with her spike heeled boots. Never again. She didn’t want him? Good. Because he didn’t want her either.



Yeah……right……



Attacking the bourbon with a vengeance, Spike was quietly on his way to oblivion. Willy supplied him with a second bottle and nervously licked his lips. He was well aware that he had a mercurial vampire and a mightily powerful Slayer in the same room and he was not immune to the crackling tension between them. He did not want to light that blue touch paper. Thankfully, the Slayer was busying herself clearing tables still and the bar was busy tonight. With a bit of luck, Spike would finish the liquor and slink off home. What he did when he was off the premises didn’t concern Willy in the slightest.



Spike continued filling the glass and draining it, spiralling further down into a dark and evil humour. His unlife was a joke. He couldn’t feed, the chip buggering up his head wouldn’t let him. But if he got that out……….if he got that out what? What would he do, really? He couldn’t resist a wry chuckle. Sod all. That’s what he’d do. Because he’d been tamed by the bloody Slayer! Why did everything come down to the Slayer? He couldn’t seem to keep out of her way even when he tried. She haunted him. Dru had been right. He was covered in her. He closed his eyes and felt tears pricking at the back of them. That was it – time to go, no more drink for him. The soft arsed poet was threatening to come through and his Big Bad credentials were already at an all-time low without showing that face to the wankers who frequented Willy’s.



He debated whether he should go say bye to the Slayer….but he wasn’t talking to her so what would be the point? Looking at her, drinking in the shape of her face and the scent of her body – that would be the point. Love’s bitch alright. No point arguing about it. Why was he sitting there debating when he could be ogling? He swung off the stool and lurched unsteadily to his feet, gripping the counter to keep himself upright. The sound of a tray being dropped and raised voices drew his attention and he focused into the darkened corner where there was a commotion brewing. He recognised Buffy’s dulcet tones shrill with anger and made his way over.



One unlucky demon lay across the table with Buffy’s hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing the air out of him. “Now do you believe me? I told you, put those meaty hands anywhere near my butt and you’ll be sorry………..are you sorry?”



Spike’s snarl drew her attention away from her cowering victim. In a flash of peroxide blond hair, he’d rushed past her and dislodged her grip, pulling the whimpering demon to the vertical and holding him with his feet dangling inches above the floor. “Don’t……… you dare………lay a……fucking finger……on her, mate. You hear me?” Spike’s forehead was ridged, his fangs glinting in the dim lights of the bar. “I’m gonna rip your head off and piss down your neckhole. You’ve messed with the wrong bird, mate – mine!”



Buffy was torn between feeling all girly, having her man defend her and then realising that she just called Spike ‘her man’ albeit in her head, and feeling insulted that the vampire didn’t think she could take care of herself. The stupidity of him! She was the freaking Slayer! And ‘bird’ had better not be an insult. She so wasn’t his either…..



Small yet powerful fists started beating on Spike’s back to get him to let go. He ignored her, continuing to ooze menace and spit venom at his captive audience. Buffy tugged on his hair. He snarled but kept hold of the demon.



“Spike! Let go! I can handle myself – I don’t need your help. LET GO!” She yelled finally, her mouth right by his ear.



“Fucking hell, Slayer, you’ve perforated my eardrum!”



“Well, let him go – I can deal with this. I don’t want you to protect me. I don’t need anybody’s help to fight my battles.”



Watching her stamping her foot and with her hands on her hips, Spike felt cold fury descend upon him. He’d reacted instinctively thinking she was in danger and wanting to protect her. Any normal girl would be happy to have a handsome, resourceful, and strong bloke sort out a wanker who’d pawed at her……..but Buffy? No, not her. Fine then.



“Right, Slayer. God forbid I might want to give you a break, look after you a bit. Sorry to be so rude. I’ll leave you to it.” He threw the demon back onto the table and stalked off, throwing over his shoulder, “You’re welcome to her. She’s nothing special…..”



Buffy gasped. Alright, he’d done what she’d asked but……..a huge part of her was crushed by his words and sort of hoping that he’d stay and beat up the demon anyway. Said demon was cowering wondering what else could go wrong this night and expecting the death blow any minute. How was he to know the waitress was the Slayer – and he only touched her because he’d been dared to. He closed his eyes, silently wondering how he was going to explain this away to the wife when he regenerated tomorrow. He waited…….and waited………After five minutes he opened one eye. The Slayer was gone.



++++++++++++++++++++



Spike stalked back to his crypt cursing himself for not grabbing the bottle of JD off the bar counter on his way out. He vented his fury on a few innocent benches, gravestones, and trash cans. Wasn’t really doing much to satisfy his violent tendencies, but then the only thing that would likely see an end to this one was to see the dozy bint offed once and for all. She made him crazy. He heard the sound of running feet behind him and twirled round, crouched defensively.



“Spike! Wait! I need to speak to you.”



“Piss off.” When he saw it was the Slayer he continued on his way, turning his back on her.



“Spike! Please?”



And there it was, that little wheedling note in her voice that skewered his heart and had him doing exactly what she wanted. ‘Worse than a bloody dog whistle that sound is.’



He stopped, but didn’t turn round, head bowed down and hands balled tight at his sides. Buffy stopped behind him waiting for him to turn, but when he didn’t, she slowly walked round to the front and ducked down so she could look into his lowered eyes. He wouldn’t look at her; she laid a hand on his arm.



“Spike. I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to help but…….I’m the Slayer. Not used to the help really – I mean okay, Scoobies and all but they don’t really help with the violence as such. More book learning and strategy. I usually do the hurty killy thing myself. It’s just….I’m not really good at being taken care of. I’m not big with the helpless girl stuff. Are we alright?”



Spike raised his head a little and looked into her earnest face. Sunshine. That’s what she always reminded him of. The feel of sunshine on his skin that he hadn’t felt for over a hundred years. One look, one little word – and the cold dead heart that lay unbeating in his chest warmed and swelled and almost burst.



“Depends, Slayer. Can’t go round just messing with me. I’ve got feelings, you know. ‘m a real person. Got real emotions.”



“Well technically you’re not a person….”



And he was off. Buffy cursed herself. ‘Stupid Buffy. Stupid literal Buffy!’



She didn’t try to follow him. The way her mouth was working tonight they’d end up fighting to the death over a mispronunciation. Although she did hate to leave things like they were. She hoped they’d come to an understanding and now they were back to square one. And it was her fault.



She genuinely thought she’d done the right thing though, that day when she’d gone to see him in the burnt out ruins of his crypt; well, at the time she did anyway. Now……she wasn’t so sure.



After the horror of Riley finding them in bed together and the demon eggs debacle, she’d finally found the strength to stop using him to make herself feel. It wasn’t real; it was just sex and it was killing her. So why did she feel more dead now that she wasn’t feeling his arms encircling her? Why did she feel numb and aching for his lips to trail their icy kisses along her neck?



And more worryingly, she was beginning to think that when she’d said to him, ‘I can’t love you….’ it was more like ‘won’t.’



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


TBC