Red Leather Day
Author: 1stRab-id
Characters: Buffy/Spike
Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters.  I understand that anything that I write using these
characters becomes the property of the rightful owners…Joss Whedon, the WB, etc.

Prologue Note: This scene takes place in Spike’s crypt about 2:30 am, 26 hours after the events in “Blood Bath”; I will have a small scene for Spike’s dream called “English Summers”

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 “Spike…” the dream spoke his name.

“William”, he gently corrected.

“SPIKE!” the dream faded into serious pain as Buffy landed a heavy right cross on his jaw.  The reality of Buffy was as golden as the dream but most of the softness had been replaced by rock hard muscle.  The smile was totally gone along with the dulcet tones.

“Come to thank me for saving your life?” Spike asked working his aching jaw back and forth, “Really, a simple card or flowers…”

Buffy flexed her biceps and lifted him bodily from the chair.  He rolled across her shoulder flowing with the motion of her body and managed to stay on his feet.  He jerked free of her and adjusted his leather coat.  Only then did he notice she was holding the red leather dress crumbled in one fist.  He glanced down at the place he had left it.

“Start packing!” Buffy snarled, “You’re leaving town.”

“News to me!” Spike said brassing it out, “When did I decide to do that?”

“About the time the sales clerk at Le Flirt told me my ‘Boyfriend’ had just stolen the dress I came back in for.”  Buffy said, holding up the dress between them. “She gave the cops a really good description of you and I spent three hours of my Saturday night convincing them that I don’t know you.”

“Well, you know we all look alike to you humans.” Spike quipped

“The clerk said you described me perfectly and even told her which dress it was”, Buffy continued unsmiling, “Which means that you were following me…again.”

Spike debated the merits of telling her about scent tracing.  Of mentioning how when she slipped that dress onto her nude body, in direct violation of several health codes he might add, she had told him everything he needed to know.  It was a predator thing; he doubted even she would understand.  There was no need to follow her closely; the scent screamed her name at him.  The fabric of the dress retained a memory of her and whispered to him her most secret desires.

“She also said you told her the dress was for our Anniversary”, Buffy continued,  “Would that be to mark the first time you tried to rip out my throat?”

“Five years to the day…don’t tell me it’s cotton and not leather”, He shook his head in mock consternation, “Knew I should have consulted Emily Post.”

“I’m over it!”  Buffy said pointedly tossing the dress back at Spike suddenly and moving toward his trunk of memorabilia,  “Do you understand me?  I am completely past being entertained by your Punk hits of the 70’s sense of humor.  I don’t know why you are following me
and I frankly don’t care.  You are going to move on with your after-life, now.”

 “Oh, yeah, right”, Spike snarled.  He dropped the dress onto the arm of his chair and edged past Buffy quickly to catch her attention.   “Spill the blood of the innocent and you invite me over for hot cocoa…” He continued sarcastically, “but buy a dress you fancy and you run me out of town.  Way to prioritize, Blondie!  Tell you what, if I promise never to shop at the same boutique as you ever again will you just sod off?”
 
“This isn’t about the dress, Spike”, Buffy sighed lifting the lid of Spike’s trunk but looking up at him rather than at the incriminating contents, “It’s about the whole lurking outside my window, rummaging in my basement, stealing my photos, can’t turn around with out tripping over you thing.  It’s about the ‘please tell me you’ve got something on under that leather coat’ Buffy’s shadow boy you’ve become lately.”

Grinning, Spike flashed his coat open and closed giving her a better look at his black jeans and tee shirt.  He studied her for a beat before shaking his head slightly.

“You know the problem with you, Slayer?” He said circling her appraisingly and drawing her attention even further from his cache, “You’ve had one too many Vamps try to slip you the Big Bad.  Angel and Drac turned your pretty little head.   Now you think every man with a heart of darkness is looking to lay it at your feet.  Well, sorry to disappoint, but I bought that dress for Harmony.”

“For Harmony! Right!” Buffy drawled, “And this is all a comical misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, that’s Right!” Spike nodded, “So happens, it’s the anniversary of the first time we killed together.  The color reminded me of the occasion…”

“Say that’s true”, Buffy said obviously not believing a word of it, “What about those pictures of me that you stole?”

“Dart Board!”

“Excuse me?”

“I use them on my dart board.  Makes for a nice target.  Helps me work off my frustrations.”

He neglected to mention the nature of his frustrations.  He had gathered an air of certainty
about him now and waved one hand at the darkest corner of the crypt.  A battered dartboard hung there with an impaled Buffy pic at the center.  The Slayer frowned at this bit of evidence as she toyed with the bandage on her right wrist.  The rough cloth strip brought her attention back to Spike.  Back to the reason she was with here him at 2:30 am instead of peacefully sleeping.

“What about last night?” She asked finally getting to the crux of the tension between them, “Why were you following me? Why did you get involved?”

“Well, I was going to talk to you about a business proposition I been thinking on…” Spike shrugged, “but then the Zentori were all over you and I thought my meal ticket was about to be cancelled so I helped out.  Believe me if I knew how grateful you were going to be, I would have let them finish you off.”

Spike saw the uncertainty grow in her.  He snapped shut the lid of his trunk and sat down on it for good measure.  He was fighting an urge to confess everything.  To pull her into his arms and kiss his way along her neck up to her mouth.  To feel her body pressed against him.  The scent coming off of her was wickedly intoxicating.  English lavender, mint and something dark and woodsy mingled with her undiluted desire.  Desire? For him!

For the first time, Spike thought about the time.  It was well past midnight.  Buffy didn’t just charge over here when she found out about the dress.  No, something else brought her out into the night to lay her hands on him.  His eyes went to the red leather and suddenly a scene came into his mind as clearly as it would have come to Dru. Images passed from Buffy’s mind to his.  The red leather, pale skin and golden, the soft catch of breathe, the feel of her hands on
his back, her blunt teeth at his throat.  The hair rose on his arms as he sat watching her.  His eyes
snapped up to meet hers in sudden comprehension just as she addressed him.

“So, Give it up already! “, She was saying with a bored resignation absolutely at odds with her
thoughts, “What is this big proposition you wanted to lay on me?”

A truly demonic smile lit up Spike’s face for a moment and he was rewarded by a slight shudder from the Slayer.  “Careful what you ask for, Honey.” He thought, ”Because, I so want to give you what you came here after.”  But when he spoke his voice was even and matter of fact with no evidence of the preverbal subtext that was passing between them.

“Actually, I was thinking of renting myself out as a training partner.” He said out loud lighting a
nonchalant cigarette, “I figure you could do with the challenge and I could do with the cash.”

“News Flash, Spike…I don’t need to pay you to come in here and kick your ass.”

“Noted”, he grimaced at her, “ but I’m talking about more than a few rounds of sweating and wrestling, luv.  I’m talking about the kind of real insider information that can move you to the next level of Slayerhood.”

“And why would YOU want to help ME become Super Slayer?”

“For the good of the world!” Spike said piously and then he snorted, “For the money, of course.”

“Giles has already stepped up my training…”

“That would impress me more if you were the Musty Librarian Slayer”, Spike said dropping his cigarette and grinding it out as he stood up, “Face it, Sweetheart, I have a certain value to you.”

“And, say I buy any of this…just out of curiosity?” Buffy asked, “Exactly how high a value are you placing on yourself?”

“I figure $50 a week should cover it.” He said with his usual cockiness.  He refused to be caught off guard by this conversational twist.

$50???, a week?", Buffy yelped, "Your dead! You would think your cost of living would go way down!"

"I've got needs!", Spike said ticking items off on his fingers, "Blood, beers, smokes, laundry..."

"I got a washer! $20.00 and you do your laundry in the basement."

"$40 and YOU do my laundry." He said beginning to really enjoy himself.

"Or we could forget the whole thing." Buffy said, turning toward the crypt door.

"Alright, no need to get tetchy, I do my own laundry but I still need $35.00 a week."

"For what? Beer? Switch to domestic!"

"No..uhm...Alright, look”, He squirmed slightly, “...it's for my hair."

"Your HAIR?", Buffy considered him for a moment failing to suppress a grin, "You mean you're not a natural blonde?"

"Or, like you said, we could forget the whole thing!", Spike snarled crossing to his chair and dropping into it.

"No", Buffy gave in grudgingly, "Let’s call it $30 and the use of laundry and shower once a week."

"Twice!"

"Twice!" Buffy acknowledged wondering what had happened to her righteous anger.

“So is tomorrow night soon enough for you?”, Spike asked, letting his right hand fall across the crumpled dress on the chair arm, “Or do you want to go a few rounds, right now?”

His eyes were frank and open but his hand moved surreptitiously on the leather.  Subtly caressing it with his fingers as he watched Buffy, his gaze as steady as a cat’s.  The tip of his tongue was a visible pink against his teeth.  Buffy was suddenly aware of her body…of the scent of it and the power coiled in her muscles.  Her territorial senses were jangling but there was no obvious threat only an implied invasion.  Shockingly, part of her wanted confrontation.  Longed for him to cross the line.

“I’ll let you know when and where”, She said at last.  She hesitated a moment but did not speak again before striding to the crypt door and letting herself out into the night.

Spike sat unmoving for some time before Harmony came home.  The red leather dress caught her avaricious eye as soon as she entered the crypt.

“Oooh, pretty”, She said reaching a hand out.

“Touch it and I’ll break every one of your fingers”, Spike growled not bothering to even glance in her direction.  Harmony glared at him for a few moments before flouncing off in a huff.  Spike rose and crossed to his trunk.  He buried his face in the red leather pulling Buffy’s scent deep into his body and then he laid the dress gently on top of her pictures and locked the trunk lid.

--End Scene--