Chapter 1 - My Way
Special
You think you're special
You do
I can see it in your eyes
I can see it when you laugh at me
Look down on me
You walk around on me
Just one more fight
About your leadership
And I will straight up
Leave your shit
Cause I've had enough of this
And now I'm pissed
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Spike's fury was written all over his face , as he screamed along with Fred Durst on the car stereo, *this had become his new favorite song.* That bitch was asking for a good dose of slapdown. Her and all her scoobie buds, thinking that he was nothing but a doormat for them to wipe their feet on after a good nights killing.
And it wasn't even as though it was really them he was mad with, it was himself, for letting them get away with it, over and over again. After all, he is the Big Bad, or at least he was, til that slayer got into his blood.
How stupid was he? Letting her into his system like that? Sure the plan was always to get her into his bloodstream, but this was never what he had in mind.
And the worst of it was, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. She was terminal, he only had to look at the prancing poof, to see proof of that.
So, instead of killing her, or himself, or leaving town to get away from the torment, what did he do? Listen to angry teen music, drink overpriced bourbon, and punch walls ...with her pic taped to it of course. It was the only way he could give her a thumping and not end up in a screaming heap on the floor. Of course there was another kind of thumping that he'd like to deliver to her personally. *Which, incidentally involved the pair of them on the floor, and screaming* ...but she'd stake his sorry arse the minute he even suggested such a thing.
As he reached the bottle shop drive-thu, he reached down into his tight black leather pants, and pulled out a couple of crumpled notes, and bought another couple of bottles of Wild Turkey, and then steered the DeSoto for home.
" You'd think an arse like mine, wrapped in leather would be enough to get her thinking wouldn't you, I mean plenty of other chits love it, they are always hitting on me at the Bronze, why the hell does she have to be so bloody hard to please?"
Spike was seven-eighths hammered now, and was having an intriguing conversation with an empty bottle, but even it was playing hard to get, and wouldn't answer him, so he threw it up against the wall of the crypt. " There you bugger, that'll teach ya ta ignore me." he snarled, but the bottle was whipped and didn't answer him.
He knew exactly how it felt. He desperately wanted to have a shower and wash himself of the nights problems, maybe grab a quick toss while he was in there, but his legs wouldn't work and the door to the bathroom looked way too far away to crawl to, so instead, he curled up in a ball on the floor, those song lyrics circling in the back of his brain, and was soon snoring his head off.
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This time I'm 'a let it all come out
This time I'm 'a stand up and shout
I'm 'a do things my way
It's my way
My way, or the highway
Just one more fight
And I'll be history
Yes I will straight up
Leave your shit
And you'll be the one who's left
Missing me
Yeah
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"Wow, that was some night" Buffy said to Mr Gordo, stretching and reaching over to pull back the curtains, letting the mid-morning sun pour into her room. She loved the feel of sunlight on her face, especially after a good night out of slaying and dancing.
And last night had been particularly good, no messy snot monsters to ruin her new outfit, and a great new band playing at the bronze. 'Of course, not totally perfect,' she thought, frowning. Spike had been more than a little obnoxious, more so than usual actually, which in itself wasn't something that she would normally give a second thought to, but it bugged her that he had to do all his surly crap within sight of her and the scoobies. He should really get some new friends of his own and stop trying to muscle in on her life. "Hey Gordo, thats a good idea. We should find Spike some new and interesting friends. I bet he'd love that." And with a satisfied smile on her lips, she bounded off the bed and into the shower. "Yep, time to get ole Spikester a new social circle."
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He could feel the cold of the stone floor, hard against his cheek...and damp. Damp?....."oh shit" he groaned, rolling out of a pool of his own drool. His head felt like the stone it lay against, heavy and solid, and it weighed a ton. His bladder was full to bursting, and he was pretty sure that he wanted to throw up too. The bathroom was right where he'd left it last night, still a bloody long way to crawl. But the need was getting more urgent, so he struggled to his feet and staggered toward the promise of porcelain relief.
"Aahhhhhh," he moaned, "thats better." He straddled the toilet, his hand steadying himself as he relieved his aching bladder. His head swam but he was pretty sure that aiming for the bowl in the middle was a good bet.
Just as he tipped his head back, and arched his back, the crypt door flew open and the object of his torment came storming in. "BLOODY HELL !!" He screamed as he tried in vain to shut the bathroom door and do his pants up at the same time. "And don't you know how to knock, or were you trying to catch a peek at my dangly bits?" He tried to sound angry, but the last bit of his rant came out as more of a wimper, as his head pounded and throbbed.
Buffy just stood, looking less than impressed. "What, like you've got anything I want to see anyway." She flicked her hair over her shoulder, " I actually came over to ask what you're doing tonight?"
Spike glared at her, wondering what the hell she was up to now. He knew it couldn't be good, and to be honest, the question threw him a little. He decided the best course of action was to throw back.
"Why's that luv, did you just see something you liked? Cause you know, we don't have to wait til tonight. Got a nice comfy floor right here. " He finished with his trademark Big Bad grin and started to saunter towards her. Buffy just rolled her eyes.
"Ewww. Spike, don't make me sick. I just thought that you might want to come to the Bronze. A few of us are heading over to see that new band 'One Good Day'. Everyone says that it's a great group."
Spike put on his best girly voice and mimicked her. "Everyone says its a great group," and then growled in her ear, "I hear its mostly for the chits, bit of a girly group. I've never heard a MAN say a good thing about them.
She pulled back slightly, enjoying the game. "Mmmm" said Buffy, "You could be right. Xander isnt going with us, and there will probably be just a heap of hot and hungry women there. I don't know what made me think that you'd be..." she raised one eyebrow, "... interested."
Spikes demeanor switched immediately. "Right then," he said. He clapped his hands together and then rubbed them. Buffy laughed, he reminded her of Scrooge from 'A Christmas Carol', counting his money.
"What?" said Spike looking confused, "You want me to go or not?" Buffy knew it was a retorical question. She spun on her heel and headed for the door. "See you there at nine then. And don't forget to flush !" she called as she disappeared into the sunlight outside the crypt door. He could hear her chuckling away to herself as she left.
Spike finished doing his pants up and then crumpled back down onto the floor. What the hell could that little cow be up to now he wondered. He decided that thinking about it would only increase the pounding in his head, so he curled back into a ball and grabbed some beauty sleep. After all, he had to be in tip-top shape for all those hot and hungry women tonight.
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Buffy, Willow, Anya and Tara all crowded around the bar, ordering their drinks and chatting excitedly about 'OGD'. There was a rumor that the lead singer of 'Gencon' was going to do a set with the girls of 'OGD' and the entire place was buzzing. Buffy scanned the crowd, looking for Spike. She wished that he would just get there already.
The other girls were clued up on the plan, and even though they couldn't figure out why Buffy cared about what Spike was, or wasn't doing, they had agreed to help out.
Meanwhile, Spike was outside, leaning casually against the light pole just down from the Bronze entrance. He lit a smoke and drew back slowly, savoring the taste of the nicotine as it wound its way down his throat. He shut his eyes and fantasized that it was blood, not smoke, that warmed his insides. He sighed, this wasn't getting him anywhere, but he wasn't sure that going through that entrance and into the throbbing walls of the Bronze was going to get him anywhere either.
He still didn't trust the Slayer. She had never, ever before invited his presence, and this was all way to easy. He knew that he wanted to be with her, and now he was being given an opportunity to spend unimpeded time in her company, with no other male competition around, and at her own request.
It had to be a trap.
With that in mind, he shrugged his shoulders and killed his smoke. He strode forward, and burst into estrogen central, *AKA The Bronze*, a wicked smile on his face, and went to meet his fate.
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