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A/N: Here’s a quick drive-by update. More stuff, more UST. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy…silly girl. You know you really wanna…

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Chapter Five

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of activity. Despite a lingering preoccupation with her decision to distance herself from Spike, it didn’t take Buffy long to find the shoes she needed. She and Dawn made it back to the house with plenty of time to spare.

Their arrival coincided with Giles and Spike’s return. From the cryptic jibes flying hot and heavy between the two, Buffy gathered there had been “an incident” at the tuxedo shop. Much to Dawn’s disappointment, neither man would elaborate, but going strictly by the depth of Giles’ glower and the breadth of Spike’s smirk, Buffy suspected it was Vampire 1, Watcher 0.

Giles departed again, and Spike and Willow went upstairs to get ready. Dawn seemed to have forgotten her earlier disappointment over being left out and had insisted on helping her sister dress, but the gown Buffy had chosen to wear roused mixed emotions in them both. It had been a gift from Joyce on Buffy’s last birthday, a present she’d never had a chance to enjoy. Looking at it brought back not only bittersweet memories of their mother, but also Dawn’s traumatic discovery of her “keyness.”

Still, it was a beautiful dress, and Buffy figured the best way to honor her mother’s memory was to wear it in a good cause, instead of hiding it away in the back of her closet. Dawn agreed.

Now, standing in front of the full-length mirror, Buffy stared back at the girl reflected there. It wasn’t her. It was a stranger, someone with a life that didn’t belong to Buffy Summers. Someone who had time for pretty dresses, and parties, and small talk that didn’t involve how many demons she’d skewered that day. Not like her at all.

“You look so beautiful.”

Dawn’s voice startled her from her thoughts. Buffy glanced from her sister’s smiling face back to the image in the glass. The dress was breathtaking. A nude slip gown in liquid satin hit her at mid-calf, shifting fluidly with every movement of her body. It was offset by a mesh overlay that went from a black-lace bodice and form-flattering drop waist to a sheer skirt, ending in a slight handkerchief hem that reached almost to the ankles. Beaded spaghetti straps left her arms and shoulders bare, while a low, squared neckline revealed the gentle swell of her breasts.

Her hair was swept up in a loose chignon that nestled low on the nape of her neck. A few wisps were pulled free at the sides to form loose, curling tendrils. The shoes she had found that afternoon, open-toed black heels with ankle straps, completed the picture.

The overall effect was elegant yet sexy, and she should have taken more pleasure from it. But she didn’t.

“Buffy?”

She turned to Dawn, who was watching her a little anxiously, and forced a smile. “The hair is perfect, Dawnie. Thank you.”

Dawn grinned and shrugged. “No problem. It’s actually comforting to know that if my career as a rocket scientist doesn’t work out, I’ll have something to fall back on.” She perked up. “Hey! You want me to help you pick out a necklace and earrings?”

Buffy shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you head down to the kitchen and surprise Tara with dinner? We’ve got everything you need to make a killer spaghetti and meat sauce, and we can warm up the leftovers tomorrow night.”

“Kind of like a consolation prize for missing all the excitement, you mean? I could do that,” Dawn said agreeably. “On one condition.”

Buffy raised a brow.

“I get to have a glass of wine to go with it.”

Buffy’s other brow joined the first.

“Okay, okay,” Dawn grumbled. “You know you would have been disappointed if I hadn’t tried.” Stopping at the door, she paused, studying Buffy. “You really do look pretty. Really.”

Buffy answered with a faint smile. “Thanks.”

Dawn nodded and disappeared into the hall, but her head reappeared in the doorway just as Buffy reached for the jewelry box. “I bet Spike will think so, too,” she teased, then vanished again.

Buffy was glad no one was there to see her blush.


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Minutes later she was heading down the hall, the necklace she’d chosen to wear dangling from her hand. After a fruitless struggle with an uncooperative clasp, Buffy had finally conceded defeat and decided to seek out Willow’s help before she ripped the necklace apart in sheer frustration.

Nearing Dawn’s room, she slowed, wondering if it might be a good idea to check up on Spike first. Left to his own devices, he’d probably toss out the tux in favor of his leather duster, and wouldn’t that be just peachy keen? She frowned, biting her lip. If she had to go through the whole evening pretending Spike was her date, then he’d damn well better be presentable.

Mind made up, she tapped on the door.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.” Like she really had to tell him. He would have known it was her even before she’d knocked. “You decent?”

She heard what sounded like a snort. “You serious?”

“Spike…” Exasperation, thy name is Buffy.

“I’m dressed, if that’s what you mean. Strictly G-rated in here, Slayer, so don’t think you’re gonna get lucky.”

Oh, goody. Just what she needed – the return of snarky Spike and his infamous innuendoes. Shaking her head, Buffy opened the door…and froze. All thoughts of staking smart-ass vampires with delusions of hotness vanished as she stood and stared.

A part of her mind vaguely noted that Spike was staring, too.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. The thought of Spike in anything other than his habitual black T-shirt, jeans, and leather coat was just too hard for her to wrap her brain around, so she hadn’t even tried. It was that total lack of imagination that left her completely unprepared for the sight of him now.

He hadn’t yet donned his jacket, so the first thought that crossed Buffy’s mind, once her brain started functioning again, was how incredibly broad his shoulders looked in the white dress shirt and red satin vest. The backless vest, with its halter-style neck, showcased his muscled chest in a way that made her hands itch to explore. A matching satin bow tie, paired with the shirt’s high-button collar, accentuated his full mouth and chiseled features, looking deliciously elegant and not at all ridiculous.

Something told her Xander was going to be very disappointed.

Her eyes continued their journey downward, noting how nicely the black trousers fit him before moving on to settle on his…scuffed boots? She blinked.

“Okay, tell me you’re not planning to wear those.” Her gaze flew back to his face as she motioned toward his feet.

Spike’s eyes were busy taking their own scenic tour. “Yeah,” he breathed softly, head tilted to one side. Then he frowned. “Wait…what?”

“The boots?” Buffy prompted, folding her arms. Spike’s gaze, which had moved to her face, immediately backtracked to points further south. She hastily unfolded her arms. “I mean, really…in terms of a fashion faux pas? That’s about as faux as it gets.”

His eyebrow rose. “I could go barefoot, but I figured you’d like that even less,” he said pointedly. Then, shifting gears so fast it made her dizzy, he sighed and shook his head. “Bugger. The shoes are over there. Thought I might have some fun with you, but I just don’t have the heart. Not with you lookin’ the way you do.”

Surprised and more than a little wounded, Buffy cast a surreptitious glance at Dawn’s mirror, seeking reassurance. “You don’t… Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?” she asked, mentally wincing at the plaintive note in her voice. Needy much?

Buffy looked back to find Spike staring at her, head tilted, body overtaken by sudden stillness. Unconsciously mirroring him, she froze, the open tenderness in his face and soft sincerity of his gaze stunning her into immobility.

Nothing, not even the moment they’d shared in the basement, could have prepared her for the sight of this Spike, so unlike the one she’d always known. But there he was, and his voice, low and fervent, flowed over her like smooth molasses.

“I loved Drusilla. From the moment she turned me, I never had eyes for anyone else till I came here. But there was a woman once … in St. Petersburg. They said she put the angels to shame, with hair like fire, and skin like cream, and eyes that would haunt a man past reason. Men died for her. And they lived for her, too. And when she stood in a room, it was like everything else went away. Not a man there could look anywhere else but at her. Even I could see it. Feel it, too.”

His voice deepened with a husky intensity that sent warm tingles straight to her core. “She was a pale ghost next to you. You’re so bloody beautiful, Summers, you break my heart. Nothing in the world compares. Never could, never will.”

Oh, god. She stood there wordlessly, knowing he could hear her heart racing. What could she say to something like that?

There was a long moment of silence before Spike looked away and shrugged. “But I suppose compliments from an evil creature of the night isn’t high on the Slayer’s wish list, yeah?” Spotting the necklace that still dangled from her hand, he nodded at it, releasing her from the spell he’d woven with his words. “So…you planning on wearin’ that or carryin’ it about?”

Yet another thing that unnerved her – a Spike who saw a weakness but didn’t try to take advantage. Once upon a time, Sunnydale had been a simple world of black and white. Now, things were turning a complicated shade of gray and she didn’t have a clue how to handle that.

It didn’t help, either, that he was standing so close to her. She summoned up a faint smile. “I, uh, had some trouble with the catch. It’s being very un-catchy.”

He nodded solemnly and held out his hand. “Right, then. Give it over.”

Freezing, she eyed him warily. “What? Why?”

“Why do you think? More than a century with Dru gave me a fair bit of practice with the like. Expect I can wrestle it into submission.”

“Oh. Well…that’s okay. Really. I can get Willow to—”

“What, are you six years old, woman? ’Fraid you’ll get vampire cooties?” He smiled, a teasing gleam in his eyes. Then his head tilted again, his voice changing to a suggestive rumble. “Or maybe…it’s somethin’ else that’s got you rattled?”

Startled, Buffy felt her eyes widen for a split second then narrow dangerously. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her chin. “The only thing getting rattled around here is your head if you don’t knock it off, Spike. If you think anything else, you’re delusional.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

Instead of taking the bait like she’d hoped, Spike raised his eyebrow and waited, hand still extended. Buffy stared back mulishly for several long beats, refusing to break eye contact. Then, slowly and deliberately, she placed the necklace into his upturned palm. A faint smirk touched his lips, but he didn’t move, just continued to watch her, waiting. She huffed, rolling her eyes to show how unimpressed she was, but obediently turned around. Smug, stupid vampire. She was the Slayer. She wasn’t about to run from a double-dog dare, even if he hadn’t actually put it into words.

The pendant descended in front of her face, settling against her skin as he positioned the chain around her neck. She latched on to it, steeling herself against the contact as his hands slid beneath the chignon, taking care not to muss her hair. Despite her resolve not to react, the soft brush of his knuckles against the sensitive spot at the nape of her neck set off a delicious fluttering sensation deep in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes drifted shut. Then snapped open.

There would be no shutting of the eyes for Buffy Anne Summers. That would be asking for trouble and all sorts of bad thoughts. She had to focus on something else.

“I see you managed the bow tie.” Mindless chit-chat, voice nice and steady. So far, so good.

“Cheated,” he confessed, his voice rasping pleasantly in her ear. “Pre-tied. The magic of modern formal wear. Bloody brilliant.”

Then the necklace was in place and his hands retreated. But as he withdrew, the lingering caress of cool fingers on her shoulders sent Buffy’s already-racing heart into overdrive. Though he no longer touched her, she could sense his presence behind her, separated only by an inch or two of charged air. All she had to do was shift ever so slightly backwards and his hard body would be pressing into hers. All she had to do…

“Buffy!” Dawn’s voice, floating up the stairs, hit her like a bucket of ice water. “Are you ready yet? Giles is here!”

A heated blush suffusing her cheeks, she stepped away and kept her face carefully averted from Spike’s gaze. He probably knew anyway, but she wasn’t about to advertise it. Plausible deniability was her friend.

“Thanks,” she said briskly, already halfway to the door. She marveled anew at how steady her voice sounded. “I’d better grab my wrap and see if Willow’s ready. You finish up and meet us downstairs. Don’t be long, okay?”

If Spike replied, she couldn’t hear it through the closed door.


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Buffy’s appearance duly impressed those waiting downstairs, and Willow, who looked stunning in an emerald off-the-shoulder gown, also received her fair share of accolades. Giles, too, cut a dashing figure in his classic shawl-collar tux, silver paisley vest, and elegant four-in-hand necktie.

But the real stir was caused by Spike’s arrival.

Dawn was the first to notice. “Hot damn,” she said, looking toward the foyer with a stunned expression. The automatic rebuke died on Buffy’s lips as she followed her sister’s gaze and found Spike, in all his sartorial splendor, standing at the base of the staircase.

The full effect was even better than the sneak preview she’d had upstairs. Stupid rental tuxedos. They really weren’t supposed to look so good.

Xander, taking in Anya’s appreciative once-over, turned to Giles with a sour look. “You couldn’t have rented him a lavender tux? You had to get him that one?”

“You look fantastic!” Dawn enthused, rushing over to him. “Like James Bond…only, you know…blond.” She grabbed hold of his arm, tugging on it excitedly, probably testing to make sure he was real.

“Phfft! That ponce…him and his martinis…he’s a bloody disgrace,” Spike scowled. “Never could understand what the birds saw in him, no matter which sorry sod was playin’ him.” Then, relenting, he smiled at Dawn. “But thanks, bit. Appreciate the sentiment, just the same.” His gaze shifted to survey the others in the room. “Well, now, aren’t we a pretty bunch?” He nodded his approval to Willow. “Lookin’ good, Red.”

“Thanks! And…um…you look nice, too. The tux looks really great on you. Really.” Turning her back on Spike, she gave Buffy a quick who-would-have-thought look. Buffy shrugged and glanced away, chewing on her lower lip.

“Yes, well…if we’re finished with the mutual admiration, perhaps we should be on our way,” Giles suggested. “Xander, you and Anya will follow us over in the truck and park behind the museum near the loading bay. Are there any questions or concerns that we haven’t already discussed?”

Buffy saw Dawn tug sharply on Spike’s arm just as he opened his mouth, shaking her head as she gave him a stern look. He sighed heavily but subsided, swallowing whatever snarky comment he’d planned to make.

The Watcher looked around. “Very well then. Shall we?” With a grim expression, Giles exited the house, leaving the Scoobies to follow.

As Willow, Xander, and Anya filed after him, Buffy sensed Spike’s gaze lingering on her. She glanced over and their eyes locked. There was a speculative gleam in those blue depths that left her more than a little unsettled. Or maybe she only imagined it, for no sooner had they exchanged looks than he was all business, winking at Dawn and brushing by Buffy to follow the others out to the car.

But as he moved past her, words breathed low and soft reached her ears.

“Breakin’ my heart, Summers. Breakin’ my bloody heart.”

And her own heart raced as she stared after him.


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TBC in Part 6





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