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A/N-I want to thank everyone for voting this the fic of the week!! That is just sooo...neat!

Chapter 12
"Your boyfriend is here."
The look Buffy tossed over her shoulder brought a smile to his face; a fragile tendril of hope igniting deep inside that was telling him that he wasn't going to be forsaken for the great poof..

Not this time.

Buffy looked over at the table where her friends and Watcher were sitting and mentally cringed when her eyes locked with the broody brown of Angel's. Buffy had never noticed the bulging vein in his forehead before, but then realized he looked liked he was about to explode with anger. Not that she could blame him, really. She had been all about the avoidance lately and not much with the talky. And well... this thing with Spike? Very weird. But did she really deserve his anger and outrage?

Yeah, she pretty much did.

Now she had to make the choice; decide if she was going to take the huge plunge into unknown and unchartered -but very sexy- territory. Because this thing? It was huge.

Spinning around to regard the demon who held her so easily in his arms, Buffy took a brief moment to search for her answer.

And she found it.

The ever-present cockiness and self-assuredness that was all Spike was in full display-yet that small hint of vulnerability and fear that she found lurking behind the intense blue depths were the most telling of all. The knowledge that she was choosing to be with someone who had made it their life work to assassinate her kind was pretty much on the side of ludicrous; of that she was fully aware. She had known it since they'd done the dirty dancing thing in LA, but there was something else she knew.

He was worth that risk.

Buffy put one hand on his shoulder and stood on slight tippy-toe so her mouth reached his ear. "He's NOT my boyfriend."

That proverbial line had been crossed, and now Spike knew exactly where he stood. Right where he wanted to be. With her.

With a cocky smile, he fell dramatically to his knees in silent worship as he practically devoured her with his eyes. After giving a brief nod to his band members, Spike put the microphone to his mouth and finished the song he'd been engaged in.

Rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Sent from heaven above
That’s right
To rock the cradle of love
Rock the cradle of love
Yeah cradle of love
That’s me mama
I robbed the devil of love
All right
Cradle of love

Buffy knew she should be embarrassed by the fact that he was on his knees before her, his pelvis rocking forward obscenely to further punctuate the lyrics, but she was being held helplessly captive by his voice and the intensity of his eyes. Her body continued to sway with an unconscious rhythm to the underlying beat, and she realized with a start that her slayer-ness was getting off on having a sexy vampire so prone before for.

Well, she wasn't going to argue with that.

As the song drew to a close, Buffy watched as Spike lumbered to his feet, the predatory look on his face pure Spike rather than Idol. He grabbed her hand and pressed a tender kiss to the palm, his eyes silently questioning her commitment.

'Since when was Spike so easy to read?' she thought in another lust-filled daze. But she knew her heart, and her heart was dictating her actions here; with her hormones along for the ride.

Buffy gave him a soft smile and a barely imperceptible nod and the relief that was reflected back warmed her.

"Get ready" he mouthed to her.

Finally allowing himself eye contact with the person that was solely responsible for creating his darkest side, Spike addressed the audience in a playful voice.

"I've got one last song for ya, and I've got me a dedication to do. This little number goes out to the one person who is responsible for making me what I am today. " Spike's stare was unwavering as he regarded Angel who sat seething with barely constrained rage. "EXACTLY what I am. He took me under his tutelage and molded me into his very likeness. So this is for you, Angelus."


Knowing the audience were under the impression that he had been addressing a musical influence, Spike couldn't help but smirk at that thought. Oh there had been music all right. Ripped right out of peoples throats as they screamed for mercy to his accompaniment of laughter.

Slipping the microphone in the stand, Spike turned to the band and gave them a signal. Unhurried, melodious music began pouring from the instruments they wielded with such proficiency, and Buffy was impressed by their continuing skills at improvising, since nothing about tonight's performance would have been something they had dealt with in rehearsal.

Head tipped back, eyes closed, Spike allowed the music to grip him. He could feel Buffy right at his side, and he could finally relish in the feeling of how right that was rather than the utter and complete wrongness of it.

With his cue coming up, Spike opened his eyes and locked eyes with Angel again, who wore the face of the deeply suffering. Spike inwardly snickered, knowing how much Angel hated any reminder of his destruction and violence as Angelus.

Which was exactly why Spike felt the need to remind him of just WHO and WHAT they had both been, and he eagerly began his last song of the evening.

I'll do anything
For my sweet sixteen,
And I'll do anything
For little run away child

Buffy looked at Spike suspiciously, wondering why he had chosen this particular song. Was he trying to tell her something? That she was too young or something? Because maybe she was, but her Slayer side had aged her and she no longer regarded herself as the bubble-brained Buffy she had been before she had been called. But then he looked at her again, and her fears evaporated. Seeing the molten look on his face reaffirmed that Spike definitely saw her as a woman.

Risking another look at Angel, Buffy was surprised to see evidence of his 'guilt' face instead of the previous enraged face but her attention was immediately diverted by Spike's voice working its magic on her hormones.

Gave my heart an engagement ring.
She took ev'rything.
Ev'rything I gave her,
Oh sweet sixteen.

Built a moon
For a rocking chair.
I never guessed it would
Rock her far from here
Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Someone's built a candy castle
For my sweet sixteen.
Someone's built a candy brain
And filled it in.

Spike began circling her with smooth, stealthy movements; each step reaffirming his inherent predatory status. How these people could think he was Billy Idol and not see him for the magnificent supernatural presence he really was, was truly beyond her. Although to be fair, she wasn't really THAT familiar with Billy Idol; but she couldn't imagine him having the same animal magnetism that Spike did. Well, if he did, not in the bucket loads like Spike.

Without even realizing it was happening, her Slayer-ness responded to Spike's primal stalking and Buffy began moving with slow, sensuous, deliberateness to the lilting rhythm of the song. A deep, aching need began building up in response to his heated perusal, and she realized with a rush that her dark, primeval essence had connected with Spike's and somehow had found a weird sort of harmonious balance. God, no wonder she'd never been able to kill him. In a sick, twisted, totally Hellmouth-y way, they had been meant for each other.

And once more, that profound realization produced a serious lack of wiggage, which was just fine with her.
Buffy found herself ignoring the openly incredulous faces of the audience, this was her dance, her profound revelation time. Even her guilt over Angel had appeased, the stark differences between Spike and Angel now truly clear in her mind. Angel had treated her like she was made of glass, tip toeing around any real intimacy, hulking in her shadow as her unneeded protector.

But Spike treated her like the Slayer.

Making a serious effort to shut off her inner thoughts, Buffy succumbed to the pull of Spike's voice, basking in its husky beauty as it flowed through her body, further awakening the siren within.

Well I'll do anything
For my sweet sixteen
Oh I'll do anything
For little runaway child

Well, memories will burn you.
Memories grow older as people can
They just get colder
Like sweet sixteen

Oh, I see it's clear
Baby, that you are
All through here
Oh, oh, oh, oh.
+++++++

"Angel, I can't believe you're not doing anything... about that!!" Xander complained loudly, eyeing the sullen vampire with dismay. He had been looking forward to the bleached menace getting some good ass whupping by the Oh-So-Broody One and thus far, he'd been sorely disappointed.

Anger was slowly leeching its way out of Angel's system as he turned his head to regard the annoying teen. Guilt that he had shrugged aside and tried to bury continued to blast him with every meaningful look and twisted lyric that Spike tossed his way.

"And why is he dedicating this song to you? Because I've had about all the disgusting visuals I can take for one evening, thank you very much," Xander continued.

"Uh, Angel? He doesn't... you know... have Buffy in a thrall, does he?" Willow asked timidly, trying to find something to excuse her friend's behavior.

A deep and pained sigh was expelled as Angel considered his answer. He knew Buffy's Watcher was watching him, could feel the intensity of that intelligent stare burning right through him.

"He doesn't have her in a thrall."

"Oh please! Like you would know!" Something occurred to Xander. "Well, I guess you would know, being dead and all. But that is not our usual bouncy Buffster right there."

"Why did Spike say you made him? I thought Drusilla made him." Willow's confused face was becoming more pronounced as the night wore on.

"She did." Unwanted memories came bursting into his consciousness and Angel tried to beat them back again to no avail.

"Angel?" With just one spoken word, Giles had broken through the rest of Angel's defenses and his sudden need to confess was overwhelming.

"I made him a monster," he announced in a hushed voice.

"But... you just said Drusilla sired him." Willow didn't like being this confused.

"She did," Angel admitted, staring at the table; anywhere but at Spike's accusing eyes, Buffy's obvious defection or any of the questioning faces that were pointed his way. His guilt was absolute, there could be no forgiveness to dampen this remorse.

"But?" Giles prompted.

"He wasn't a monster."

"Huh?" Willow found herself asking. "He didn't turn into a vampire?"

Angel finally raised his eyes from the table. "That's not what I said. I said he wasn't a monster when he was turned." He looked at Giles who looked like he was beginning to understand. "When he was turned, the demon was there, yes; but more of his human side was retained than usual. He was still a sniveling, little wuss, spouting poetry and talking about helping his sick mother."

"And you did what?" Giles was beginning to get a very clear picture of what had occurred some hundred years prior and his stomach revolted suddenly.

A twisted smile worked its way onto Angel's face. "I taught him how to be a monster."

Never the brightest one, even Xander finally realized what Spike had meant with his dedication to Angel. "So...Spike's like what? Trying to rub it in your face that you made him the all evil railroad spike-through-the-head guy?"

"No. He was making me remember what he had been like when he was turned." It pained Angel to admit it, but it was true. Drusilla's creation had been full of idealistic daydreams and tender feelings, an aberration as far as vampires went. His first kill had been under duress and there had been tears that had followed.

Of course, he was responsible for changing that, Angel thought with self disgust. Through torture and cruelty, Angelus had wielded a brutal and sadistic hand over the younger vampire, and had-as Spike had announced-molded him into what he became.

A killer. A monster. Just like he had been.

"Wow." Willow was stunned. She could see guilt working a huge number on Angel, and was beginning to see things in a new light. For one thing, she felt better about Buffy being up on stage dancing with Spike.

"So, let me get this straight. Not only do you have the blood of however many people you killed on your hands; but you also are responsible for Spike's death count?" Xander shook his head in disgust, anger simmering in his gut. "That's...really great."

Willow rolled her eyes at Xander's antagonistic comments and turned her head to the stage. The music still filled the small club and Willow was really digging the live version of it. Even if it was... well, Spike.

Her eyes widened. "Uh.... guys? Where'd they go?" Her voice was more shrill than she would have liked.


tbc...

Hey! Where did they go? Hmmm...





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