Chapter 9 - Parties

“So you’re definitely coming?”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Buffy said.

“Spike, too?” Cordelia asked.

Buffy sighed, holding the phone with her shoulder while she dug through her closest. “Yes, Spike too. He can hardly guard me if he’s not there.”

“But it’s been a week. Nothing’s happened.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not gonna.” Buffy thought back to the pictures in the desk. She hadn’t told anyone about that chilling little discovery. And while it was true that nothing else had happened, she doubted that Spike being with her was going to scare the people off for good.

“What’s he going as?”

“God only knows. He said he wasn’t going to wear a costume.”

“But it’s a costume party!” Cordelia emphasized. “He’s got to wear something.”

“I guess. I mean, I know. We’ll see. Are you still Marie Antoinette?”

“Please, like I would turn down the chance to wear a dress that fabulous. What about you?”

“I’ve got this great olden days dress. It’s like something out of Pride and Prejudice and—”

“Colin Firth is so gorgeous. He even makes literature watchable.”

Buffy stopped herself from pointing out that they had been forced to watch it in senior English. “Anyway, it’s light and floaty and has the waist cut really high. It’s beige and blue and has a scooped neckline. There aren’t sleeves, and I’ve got this gorgeous shawl wrap thing. And Mom’s letting me wear her good pearls with it.”

“Nice.”

“Yep. And I found the cutest little lace gloves, and a fan, and one of those dainty purses you hang from your wrist.” Now if she could just locate her shoes…

“We’ll be the belles of the ball—ooh, Harmony’s beeping me, anything else?”

“Not really.”

“Talk tomorrow, bye!” she quickly finished.

Buffy hung up the phone and continued to sort through the tubs at the bottom of her closet. She knew she had a brand new pair of hose in here somewhere.

-----

“Well, how do I look?” Buffy stepped in front of her mother’s mirror, having just finished the last bit of getting ready—curling her hair. Most of it was pinned away from her face, causing the curls to fall in a small cascade from the back of her head.

“Wonderful, sweetie,” Joyce said, fastening the necklace around Buffy’s neck. She artfully arranged a few loose strands of hair. “Now, you and Spike are going to meet us there, right?”

“We’ll be right behind you.”

“And you’ve got your invitation?”

“Right here.” Buffy waved her purse. “Buffy Summers and guest.”

“Well, we’ll see you there,” she said, glancing out the window. “Looks like your dad has the old car ready to go.” She picked up her own purse and left the room, pink poodle skirt swaying around her legs.

Buffy took one last spin before the mirror and walked into the hallway. Spike was loitering by his own door, and he ran his eyes over her as she approached.

“So?” she asked.

“You look good.”

“Thank you.”

Buffy noticed that Spike had not dressed up, as such. He had, however, seemed to have taken her suggestion. He was wearing black jeans and a blood red button up shirt with a black shirt underneath it. He also sported the floor length leather duster, a thing she hadn’t seen since the first night he’d arrived. There were a couple chains around his neck, and he had on several heavy rings. However, the thing that seemed to make the most difference was his hair, which was spiked straight up.

It wasn’t so much a costume, but it wasn’t how most people dressed. And actually, it still fit the theme of the party, which was Times Past. Spike looked like he stepped out of another decade.

“I think it works,” she said.

“Glad to hear it. Ready to go?”

Buffy started walking down the hall, Spike following her.

“I do like Halloween,” she said, as she went down the stairs. “It’s fun when you’re little, of course, but I still love it. Dressing up, getting to pretend you’re something you’re not. Or not,” she added, looking at him. Spike always sort of looked like he stepped out of another decade. “Besides, Halloween’s when all the things are out and about, you know.” She laughed.

“Nah, today’s the day they stay in and rest. Too much bad press.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“It makes sense,” he insisted. “Now, if you were a beastie, would you come out when everyone’s expecting you to?”

Buffy considered, pausing in the living room. “I guess maybe not.”

“Damn right. No element of surprise. Would ruin the fun.” Then he smirked. “Course, there are always exceptions.”

Talk of what wasn’t going bump in the night aside, Buffy was strangely nervous. She wasn’t really superstitious about Halloween, and didn’t believe in much that was supernatural besides the possibility of ghosts. But she suddenly felt uneasy.

“Um, Spike,” she started awkwardly, “that thing you said about not leaving my side, you meant it, right? It won’t be like at school? It’s just since I saw those pictures, and it’s nighttime, and Halloween—”

“Promise. I’ll be like your date, yeah?”

He linked his arm with hers as they walked to the garage.

-----

Entering the throng of costumed people, Buffy was glad that she wouldn’t be forced to mingle and meet all of her parents’ friends. Halloween parties were always different from the normal events of polite talk and uncomfortable dinners.

She quickly spotted Cordelia, whose billowing dress was so wide that Buffy wondered how she got through doors. A massive white wig was perched on her head and her face was heavily powdered. She was flanked by her friend Harmony, who was in a short dress cut at an odd angle. She had on a tight cap and old-fashioned heels, and Buffy assumed she was trying to be some sort of flapper girl, though she ended up looking like a hooker.

Ever the queen of tactlessness, Harmony immediately sized up Spike as he and Buffy walked over. “Hi, Buffy. Is he with you?”

Cordelia slapped Harmony on the wrist with her fan. “Don’t you look amazing,” she said to Buffy. “I love your necklace!” Then she looked at Spike. “What’s he?”

“Don’t gotta be something,” Spike said, at the same time Buffy said, “A punk.”

A warm-up note was struck by the band, and Cordelia turned. “I’m going to hunt down Justin. He promised me the first dance.”

Harmony lingered for a moment, before being driven off by the combination of Buffy’s dirty looks and the complete indifference of Spike.

They ended up by the buffet, where Buffy picked her way down the table, sampling the assortment of treats while Spike put away more punch than she would have thought possible. One sniff of it told her it was alcoholic, yet he seemed to be holding it well.

Buffy picked at the chocolate party mix she’d put in a napkin. She was getting full, and she knew that if she ate much more her stomach would contain nothing but junk food. Which was sort of the point of Halloween, but still.

Spike was behind her, finishing another cup of punch.

“How much of that have you had?”

“Not enough in there to get you tipsy,” he scoffed, gesturing toward the punch bowl with his empty Dixie-cup-sized glass.

“Well, it’d be enough to get me more than tipsy.”

“Lightweight.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

Spike casually reached around her and took some of her party mix.

“Not bad,” he said.

She pushed the napkin toward him. “Have at it. I can’t eat another bite.”

Buffy looked around the room, enjoying the atmosphere. The ballroom had cobwebs hanging from its chandeliers, and there were decorations around the perimeter of the room. There was even a fog machine set up. And it was fun seeing everyone in costumes. She was glad she came.

More to the point, she was glad that she was able to come. She looked at Spike, who was munching on the party mix.

So she hadn’t wanted a bodyguard at first—had been convinced that nothing could be weirder. And it might have even started out that way. But they had fallen into an easy routine and had no problems getting along with each other. She found herself liking more than just the time she spent with him.

She thought there was something from his side as well. He talked to her or watched TV with her, when he could have stayed in his room all the time, or even just been in a different room. And he had helped her when she’d told him about her suspicions regarding her father, had said he’d do whatever she wanted. He’d called the detective he knew, when he could have just shrugged and told her to handle it herself and call the police.

And he was her date tonight. That was definitely more than he was strictly required to do.

Although since it had turned out to be more of a ball than a party this year, Buffy hadn’t expected to do any dancing to the orchestra-type music. She had enjoyed a party without dancing before, but more importantly, she was serious about sticking next to Spike. And he really didn’t seem the type for ballroom dancing.

So she was shocked when he asked her if she wanted to.

“This is the waltz,” she said.

“Yeah.” He raised an eyebrow.

“You can waltz?”

“It’s been a while, but yeah.”

“Um, okay.”

They started out awkwardly, and once or twice Spike turned in the wrong direction. However, after several sets, he had fallen into a practiced rhythm, and Buffy had to admit that he was really quite good. She’d been to her share of social things with her parents, and could tell when someone was leading her or was just going through the movements.

“Where did you learn how to dance?” she asked.

“London. Not bad, huh?”

“Not bad at all.”

True to his word, Spike didn’t leave her side all evening. They danced, they ate, and only once were they were forced to mingle when Buffy’s mother tracked them down and introduced her college friend. Buffy had done her best to deflect the talk from Spike, who was inclined to stand silently for the most part.

“I’m her date,” he said simply, when the woman had directed a question to him.

-----

Buffy had begged out of the party after midnight, telling her parents and Cordelia goodbye even though things were only just beginning to wind down. She fiddled with her keys as she entered the parking lot, trailing after Spike as she talked about the evening.

She hit the button to unlock the car, and threw her party grab bag and her wrap in the backseat.

Buffy pushed the driver’s seat back up. “That was great, though. Did you see Cordelia’s face when—”

“Buffy!!”

Spike’s expression suddenly turned. She recognized the exclamation as a warning, but it was too late. Spike was on the opposite side of the car, and Buffy felt someone grab her from behind and clamp a hand over her mouth. Something was stuck in her arm, and she swayed, suddenly unable to control her limbs.

They came prepared this time, she realized.

There were two other men ready for Spike.

Or maybe not so ready.

He was more than halfway around the car—already just feet away from her—when they jumped him. Through her haze she saw him punch one in the face, dropping him instantly. He delivered a kick to the other, sending him sailing impossibly high in the air.

He turned in her direction, and Buffy felt herself falling.

-----

Spike threw off his would be attackers with little difficulty, and then advanced on the man who was trying to get away with Buffy. A blow to the head brought him down, and Spike caught Buffy’s limp form as she fell. He could smell the sedative from the where the needle had punctured her skin.

Picking up her keys off the pavement, Spike placed Buffy in the passenger seat of the car and locked the door. Then he went back to the nearest man and dragged him over. The guy moaned as he pushed him up against the car.

Spike bent one of the man’s fingers back, snapping it instantly.

“So, mate,” he said conversationally, “who do you work for?”