Part IV

“It’s not the same, this three hand poker,” complained Xander. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Probably off killin’ stuff,” said Spike wistfully, from the corner.

At Buffy’s insistence, he had been banished from patrol for the night. Giles had reluctantly concurred that the Slayer deserved a night off.

“So not talking to you, Oh-Neutered-One. And turn the TV down.”

Without turning around, Spike turned the volume up a little.

“We could go to the Bronze?” suggested Willow hopefully.

“No, I want to play with the cards and win the plastic that represents money!” Anya stated firmly.

“This game’s better with four people,” explained Xander gently.

“Spike! Come and play poker!” ordered Anya. Xander and Willow exchanged concerned glances.

“Honey, he’s not people,” Xander explained, patting her hand. “He is a force of hell, sent here to drive me slowly insane.”

“Thanks, mate!” said Spike, sounding genuinely impressed. “And just for the record I don’t want to play your little game. I may be neutered and impotent and pretty pathetic but I’m still not that bloody desperate!”

“Hey! I mean – good! I mean – hey!” Xander glared at him.

“Oh come on! I knew you were goody-goody world-saver types, but this is just a joke. It’s Friday night and you’re all sitting in this hole playing poker for plastic? Sad!”

“And you’re doing what exactly?” asked Xander, defensively.

“I,” declared Spike with a swagger, “Am at least going to get very, very drunk!” He held aloft a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s fifty years since I was very, very drunk,” said Anya with a nostalgic sigh. “It didn’t end well.”

“Hangover?” asked Willow curiously.

“I did some vengeance while inebriated,” she explained. “It led to - international tensions.”

“We’ll put that in the folder of ‘things-I-don’t-need-to-know-about’,” said Xander, shaking his head.

“But I have no powers now so getting drunk sounds like an excellent idea!”

“Sounds like fun,” said Willow very quietly. Spike pricked up his ears.

“More than welcome to join me, Red,” he said with a smile. “Glad to see you haven’t all signed up to the Watcher Code of Boredom.”

“Guys,” said Xander nervously. “This is a bad, bad idea. Getting drunk with the big evil vampire. In fact, it’s probably a plot.”

Spike was already filling glasses while Willow and Anya headed for the couch.

“I mean, what would Buffy say?” said Xander, unheeded by anyone.

*****

“Drink!” said Buffy, entering the room and seeing them. “I want drink!”

“Buffy?” said Xander cautiously. “Have you been at the magic beer again?”

“No!” she retorted. “I’ve had a crappy day, that’s what. I had two essays to write and then I had to patrol and there were no demons which was boring and then there were six all at the same time which was kinda bruising and then Giles went on and on and on about….stuff. Blah, blah, blah. And you guys all have drink!” she finished with a pout.

“Wanna run that by us again?” asked Xander, looking puzzled.

“Please don’t,” begged Spike, passing her a glass. “Drink up and shut up, Slayer.”

“You’re drinking Spike’s drink?” she said, looking at the glass suspiciously. “Drink of Spike? I mean, it could be….spiked!”

“See! Told you!” crowed Xander, before looking at his own empty glass with a frown.

Spike rolled his eyes.

“We’re none of us dead yet,” comforted Willow.

“Oh, all right,” said Buffy, grabbing the proffered glass and slamming the drink.

“She took a lot of persuasion!” scoffed Spike, refilling her glass. “As usual,” he muttered to himself.

Buffy’s eyes widened. The full implications of the situation hit her. Drinking. Drinking in the company of Spike. Who she’d……. No, none of this was good.

“Well, drink up, Slayer,” he said. “Unless you’re nervous.”

“Why? What? I mean, what would I have to be nervous about? Why would I? I don’t have anything to…I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Okay, babbling now.

He looked at her with blatant amusement. She scowled.

“What I meant, love, is how does the super-slayer handle her drink? Be kinda funny to see you legless.”

She looked at him, confused.

“You know, pet, flat on your back and drooling,” he elaborated, to her obvious displeasure.

“Like you were when Drusilla left you,” she said brightly. “No, I don’t think I could ever look that stupid.”

“I could drink you under the table!” he snarled, turning on her at the mention of his ex.

“I could drink you under anything you want!” she retorted.

“This is a strange, strange conversation that should not be happening,” observed Xander, from a safe distance.

“Is this a competition?” enquired Anya.

“What?” demanded Buffy.

“A competition. Between you and Spike. Involving a challenge of drinking and various items of furniture?”

“No! No competition!”

A smug noise from Spike.

“Why is he even here?” asked Buffy in exasperation, indicating the vampire.

“Cos Giles threw him out and you threw him out and I haven’t had a chance to throw him out yet,” explained Xander. “And you’ve got out of this Spike-sitting thing kinda lightly, now we come to mention it. You only had him one night.”

A muffled snort from Spike’s direction.

“So you’ve wimped out, have you, pet?” He held up the whiskey bottle.

“I could drink the entire thing and still beat you up!” she declared.

Silently, he passed her the bottle. She poured a large measure and knocked it back.

“And we’re really thinking this is a good idea?” said Xander desperately, to the room at large.

“Now this is fun,” said Anya, happily.

“You’re not all just going to sit around and watch!” insisted Buffy, passing the bottle on. “Drink!”

“Goodbye sanity, it was nice knowing ya!” sighed Xander, taking a swig.

“And one for Spikey,” said Buffy, reclaiming the bottle and shoving it at him.

He chugged down half of it. Buffy looked at the spectacle with amazement and some trepidation.

“None left for us,” said Willow, sounding wistful.

“Not to worry, Red. Plenty more where that came from,” said Spike, reaching into a bag behind him.

Buffy’s fear increased as she saw the array of bottles.

“Where’d you steal them from?” she asked, with false bravado.

“Not really the point, is it love?” he replied with a smirk. “Now, in your own words – drink!”

*****

“Drink is good,” sighed Buffy, stretching herself full length upon the couch. “I feel all – relaxed.”

“You look – relaxed,” commented Xander. “If that’s a euphemism for ‘drunk’.”

“Am not!” she said lazily.

Spike looked at her reclined form, amused.

“And so you need more drink,” he concluded, offering a brimming glass.

“I can take it!” she bragged, accepting and swallowing. He grinned and sat himself on the couch, leaning over her prostrate body.

“Buffy!” he said with pretend surprise. “Are you having – fun?”

The part of her brain that worked sent her a clear message that this was a remark worthy of a punch….she wasn’t entirely sure why. She tried to glare at him. It only made him grin.

“Hey, drink-hogs!” called Willow, “Share!”

Spike tossed an extra bottle to her. “This one’s for me and the Slayer,” he explained waving one in front of Buffy’s face, hypnotically.

“Quit it!” complained Buffy, swiping ineffectually at it. “Makin’ me all – dizzy.”

“Because you’re not drunk,” nodded Spike, with a sly smile.

“I think Buffy’s had enough,” suggested Xander sounding none too steady of voice.

“You’re not the boss of me!” said Buffy, struggling up to point at him.

“I think the Slayer can decide for herself when she’s ready to give up,” said Spike, receiving a toe in the ribs from Buffy.

“Yes,” agreed Anya, looking pointedly at Xander.

“Am not givin’ up!” said Buffy, focusing determinedly on Spike and the bottle.

“That’s the spirit!” applauded Spike. “Open up!”

Opening the bottle, he attempted to tip some into her mouth. She sat up, choking and spluttering, whiskey streaming down her face.

“You bastard!” she coughed, trying to hit him.

He dodged out of range, very pleased with himself.

“No chip!” he crowed.

To illustrate his point, he threw a little more in her face, confusing her for a moment.

She tried to grab the bottle but he held it out of reach, laughing at her. She threw a punch at him.

“Not fair, pet, I can’t hit back,” he chided.

“Oh no, the world is so unfair!” she mocked. She lunged drunkenly at him and he fell back against the couch.

He flipped her over and tickled her, realising that this evening could be more fun than he could ever have conceived a night with the slayerettes might be.

Xander looked in bewilderment at the two former mortal enemies wrestling like children.

“Gettof!” she giggled.

“Um, Buffy? Do you want a stake or something?” Xander looked confused.

“I do believe she does,” murmured Spike suggestively, causing Buffy to shove him unceremoniously off the couch.

“Why don’t you get your undead hands off Buffy!”

“I think she can look after herself,” he drawled from the floor. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

“Yes, what is it to you, Xander?” asked Anya, tight-lipped.

“Nothing! Anya! I…..God, can I not do anything right around here?”

“Doesn’t look like it, mate,” agreed Spike cheerfully.

“I think maybe I need a walk,” said Willow abruptly. She stood up, looking paler then usual.

“I’ll go with you,” offered Anya, throwing a look at Xander.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” laughed Spike.

“Shut up and pass the drink!”

*****

“Whassat?”

“Phone,” recognised Xander, rousing himself.

“I’ll gettit!” claimed Buffy, scrambling to her feet.

“Oh no you won’t,” he said decisively. “I live here, remember? And you’re a just a leettle bit drunk.”

“Am not!” she pouted, collapsing on the floor in an ungainly heap. “Am I?”

“Course not, pet,” said the face hovering above hers.

She sat up awkwardly. “See! Spike says I’m not drunk!” she yelled at Xander’s retreating back.

“Now you’re drunk!” She pointed accusingly at Spike.

“Not that bad,” he argued, rummaging for another bottle and falling behind a chair.

“You’re drunk,” she repeated, giggling. “And I’m not. So I won!”

“Here’s your prize!” He chucked a whiskey bottle at her head.

“Nooooo,” she remembered slowly. “I get to beat you up. Why did I drink that crap just to beat you up?”

“Beats me. And….’sall very unfair. I can’t even hit you!”

“And they say nothing good ever happens on the Hellmouth!”

He glared at her.

“Go on, try!” she baited him. “You know you want to!”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Come on then, hit me, Spike!” she taunted him.

Roaring, he launched himself at her, swung his fist drunkenly and missed, lost his balance and instead hit the ground with his head.

“That was funny! Do it again!” ordered Buffy, clapping her hands in delight.

“No!” he groaned, trying to pick himself up. Okay, something not right. Shouldn’t be this difficult. He turned his head to see her foot planted firmly on his back.

He grabbed it and twisted, sending her flying. Only a minor twinge in his head and an end result of the Slayer lying flat on her back, confused as to how she’d got there.

She struggled to her feet, goaded by his grinning face. Her foot connected with his chest and he stumbled. He swung wildly at her, a fist meeting her face.

In perfect synchronisation, they yelled in pain.

Buffy returned the punch with full but drunken force, falling forward with the momentum of the swing. Together, they collapsed clumsily into the chair behind them, cracking it and crashing to the floor.

Sprawled on the ground, they began to catch their breath.

“I knew you wanted me,” he murmured, sliding his arms around her waist. His fingers began to explore further. “And you have an excuse this time….”

She turned to face him and their eyes locked. To hell with behaving……

“What the hell?” Xander’s head appeared at the door. “What have you done to my room?!”

“It was an – accident!”

“It’s her fault!”

“He started it!”

“Your chair’s crap!”

“It broke the drink!” wailed Buffy, noticing. “Look.”

“I don’t wanna see!” shouted Xander. “You’ve wreaked my house!”

“Not much to wreak,” observed Spike.

“Sorry,” said Buffy, trying to extricate herself from Spike and broken chair.

“That was Giles on the phone,” reported Xander, shaking his head as he surveyed the damage.

“What did he want? Why didn’t he talk to me?” she demanded.

“I just…..thought I’d take a message instead. He said he’s found out about the tattoo demon? Whatever that is.”

“The what?”

“Your basement, pet,” slurred Spike, eyes glinting at the memory.

“Shuttup!” she snapped.

“He said you two talked about it earlier, remember? No, maybe not. He was researching something for you?” prompted Xander.

“Blah, blah, blah,” she recalled.

“Ah-ha. And it’s all very bad, or something. There’s a nest in some crypt. Ancient Order of ….something or other. I missed most of it cos I heard you guys crashing around in here. Are you listening? Buffy? What did I say?”

“Crashing around,” repeated Buffy, obediently.

“And now I feel the world’s in safe hands.”

“She’s in very safe hands,” drawled Spike, still with an arm around her waist.

She pulled away and rose with difficulty to her feet.

“I should go and patrol,” she said firmly, holding onto a wall to steady herself.

“That mightn’t be the best idea. I mean – wait till tomorrow.”

She stood up straight and took an inadvertent step backwards.

“Are you saying I can’t patrol?” she asked with great dignity.

“No. Just….wait till tomorrow. Maybe Giles will have come up with something else.”

“What the hell happened?” They all looked up to see Giles, with a crossbow pointed at them.

“Why is it only vampires that need an invitation?” Xander wondered aloud.

“Giles. What’s wrong?” asked Buffy, doing her best to stand alone and unaided.

“Well! I thought you were all under attack!” he blustered. “I was talking to Xander, and then there was crashing and yelling and he shouted ‘Oh god!’ and hung up! I got here as fast as I could!”

“We weren’t under attack,” admitted Buffy.

“Well it bloody looks like you were! Look at this place. What happened?” His eye fell on empty bottles. “Oh, I see.”

“It was Spike’s fault!” said Buffy and Xander in unison.

“He’s a very bad influence and he should stay in your house,” added Xander, receiving a glare from Giles.

“I think your timing could have been better, Buffy. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“You’re a very bad Slayer,” taunted Spike, quietly.

“Your fault!” she groused, swaying slightly.

“Buffy,” said Giles, sounding irate, “You told me that you were incapable of working with Spike. Apparently you are perfectly capable of spending an entire night drinking with him though.”

“Yeah, they work very well together. They can use their super powers to break people’s houses,” grumbled Xander.

“I shall see you both tomorrow evening. We’ll see if we can’t put your combined powers to a more beneficial use.”

Buffy felt suddenly sober.

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