Summary: The Scoobies have a small accident that leads
to some major changes in their lives
Rating: NC17
Timing: Takes place S5, shortly after Family but before Fool for Love
Disclaimer All kinds of gender stereotypes were harmed
in the writing of this story. Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes Mydeira is my Beta Nazi, but she knows I'm her bitch.
This story was inspired by a very old Star Trek fanfic titled The Procrustean Petard,
by Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath. Of course, they didn't actually have sex in theirs . . .
The title is a quote from Storm Front, by Jim Butcher.
You haven't lived until you've heard James say those three words
together in that soft, caramel rich voice of his . . . guh.
Chapter 19 Cocktease
The Bronze was crowded. All the college students who had managed to avoid Friday classes, or just didn’t plan on going, were there, crowding out the local high school kids. They had always resented it when they were those local high school kids, but now somehow Buffy was grateful. High school girls on the prowl were frightening, and she didn’t know if she was up to fending them off.
They had all decided they needed a night out. A chance to at least pretend to be normal for a few hours. Here were people who didn’t care what they had been, just what they were now. No pressure from Dawn’s curiosity, Mom’s concern, Giles’ sympathy.
She glanced over at the bar. Riley’s discomfort was still on her menu for the evening. When they had decided to go, Riley had insisted on coming along. Just to hang out. She sighed. It was nice that he wanted to be a part of her life, but his presence was awkward. She could almost feel the force of his attempts to keep an open mind, not to judge. But he never quite looked at Anya and Xander when they were affectionate, watched Willow’s interaction with Tara closely, ignored Spike altogether. Buffy got the feeling they were all one big psychology case study to him.
She watched him come back across the room to the circle of chairs they had claimed for the evening, drinks in hand. A part of her kind of felt sorry for him. He was trying, but he just wasn’t sure whether to treat her like a girlfriend or a buddy. Like the drinks. He had insisted on getting them, but then had been surprised when she didn’t want a beer. It was kind of cute. And very tiring.
He gave her her Coke with a friendly smile and sat down next to her. “So,” he started, then seemed to realize he had nothing to say. “Um.” Another long pause. “Oh!” He smiled brightly suddenly as he thought of a topic of conversation. “You know, I’ve never asked you, what kinds of sports are you interested in?”
“Figure skating, mostly,” she answered enthusiastically. “Some gymnastics. I like to watch soccer, but that’s mostly to check out the players.” She blushed a little when she realized she’d said too much.
“Oh.” Obviously none of their interests aligned.
They sat silently, watching the dancers for a while before he tried again. “So, how are your classes?”
“Pretty good, actually. I think I’m going to regret taking Astronomy for one of my science requirements. But my poetry class is pretty interesting.”
“You’re taking poetry?” Riley looked surprised.
“All semester.” Didn’t he remember her telling him about it when she’d registered?
“So, Slayer’s studyin’ poetry,” Spike’s amused soprano spoke behind them. He came around and dropped into the seat opposite them. She waited for him to start ridiculing her, but he only asked, “What have you covered?”
Surprised by his question, she hesitated. “Um. We started with epic poetry. The Iliad, the Kalevala, and Beowulf. Then we did Chaucer, and we just finished two weeks on Shakespeare.”
“Two weeks?” He brushed it aside, appalled. “No wonder you Americans are so ignorant.”
“Well, it’s only a survey class. There are four other classes dedicated just to his work.”
“This survey cover anything besides British writers?”
To her surprise, she found she actually enjoyed talking about this with Spike. He seemed genuinely interested. She really looked at him for the first time. He wore the ubiquitous Docs and her leather skirt and jacket. Underneath he had on a deep purple halter that showed generous amounts of skin and made her wonder how much more it revealed under his coat. His eyes and lips were carefully made up, and he seemed to have taken the chance of adding mascara as well. He’d mastered the hair which hung in loose waves around his head, pulled back from his face by two silver clips that looked remarkably like the ones her dad had given her for her fourteenth birthday. Dawn was in so much trouble.
But they looked good on him.
“You’ll probably like Walt Whitman,” he was saying. “Not a lot of structure, but more joyous passion than you’ll have seen anywhere except maybe in Old Will’s work.”
“How do you know so much about poetry?” she asked, surprised that she actually cared.
“Been a round for a while, haven’t I? Had to do something to pass the time.”
She was about to pursue that when they were interrupted by a dark haired waitress tapping Spike on the shoulder. “Excuse me. The gentleman at the bar sent this over.” She offered him the tray on which a shot of whiskey sat.
“Thanks, pet.” He took the glass and lifted it in the direction of his benefactor. Then he knocked it back in one shot.
The pickup artist’s eyes widened in awe.
She turned on him. “Have you been doing this all night?”
He shrugged. “Haven’t been here that long.”
He was spared her lecture by the arrival of Xander and Anya, who flopped in chairs as well. Anya wore slacks and a blue poet’s shirt, and had apparently talked Xander into a shopping trip, as his jeans and sneakers were topped by a purple paisley silk tank top. He leaned forward to grab the cup he had left there, chugging down half the contents. “This was a great idea, Buffster. I feel better than I have in days. But you should be out dancing!”
“Probably not tonight. I’m a little shy on partners of the opposite sex. And I’m not as brave as Tara and Willow.” Not to mention the fact that Riley would probably bolt if she asked him.
“Tell you what,” he swallowed another mouthful of beer, “As soon as I get back from the little girl’s room, I’ll dance with you. I figure I owe you for all the pity dances you’ve given me over the years.”
She smiled. “They weren’t pity dances, Xander.”
“You’re cute when you lie. C’mon, Spike.”
Spike looked up in surprise. “C’mon where?”
“To the bathroom.”
“’M not goin’ to the bathroom.”
“You have to. Girls go to the bathroom in packs, and I have to go, so you have to go with me.”
“You’re out of your tree, Harris. I’m not gonna stand in line with a bunch of twittery, whispery bints for who knows how long just so you can make water and powder your nose.”
“Please, Spike, you have to. It’s going to be embarrassing enough going into a public restroom like this without standing out like a sore thumb by being there all alone.”
Spike studied Xander for a long moment before conceding. “Why didn’t you say abject humiliation was involved in the first place?” He unfolded himself gracefully from his seat. “I’m in.”
As the two squeezed through the crowd in the direction of the girls’ room, Riley spoke up, reminding Buffy of his presence. “Why do girls all go to the bathroom together?”
Buffy looked at Anya, and Anya at Buffy before Buffy answered. “So we have someone to talk to while we’re standing in line.”
Anya nodded. “And there’s always a line.”
“But if only the people who needed to go went, wouldn’t that take care of the line?” Riley asked reasonably.
They just stared at him.
“Oooookay, maybe not.” He slouched back in his chair, hiding behind his cup.
Xander was back within five minutes, although Spike had disappeared. Xander kissed Anya affectionately and whispered something in her ear before coming over to claim Buffy. “I believe this is our dance.”
She laughed. “Aren’t I supposed to be saying that to you?”
He grinned, making his smaller face look even more pixie-ish. “It’s the new millennium. Things change.”
“Yes, they certainly do.” She took his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor, looking back apologetically into Riley’s thoughtful face.
She hadn’t held anyone in this new body, so it surprised her how small Xander seemed. She started to understand why men felt so protective of women. He just seemed so fragile. They didn’t dance close, but she rested her hands on his waist while he put his on her shoulders and they just moved comfortably to the quieter song the deejay was playing. She took the opportunity to look around. Off to one side, she saw Tara and Willow in a posture similar to hers with Xander, only much more intimate. They swayed slowly in time to the music, hands lightly stroking over each other’s backs, reaching up to toy with each other’s hair. Every once in a while, Tara would drop her head to steal a soft kiss, leaving Willow smiling shyly.
“They seem to be doing better,” Buffy said close to Xander’s ear so he could hear her over the noise.
“Finding silver linings, like the rest of us,” he replied. “I don’t think Tara was coping to well at first.”
Buffy nodded in agreement. “We had lunch a couple of days ago.”
“And I talked to Will. But it’s getting easier. And at least now they can show how much they care about each other without worrying about getting attacked.”
Buffy nodded again. “Sometimes I’m not so sure I like living in a world where people like them, who love each other that much, aren’t allowed to show it in public. That just seems so wrong somehow.”
He nodded and rested his head against her shoulder for a moment. When he looked up again, he asked, “Do you think we’ll forget?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think if we stay like this long enough, we’ll forget that I was a boy and you were a girl, forget what that was like?”
She shook her head and hugged him fiercely. “That will always be a part of us. It’s defined who we are for twenty years. That doesn’t just go away. So, you’ll be a butchy girl, and I’ll be an effeminate guy, and no one will want to have anything to do with us because we’re such freaks.”
“Wow. Way to go for the silver lining, there, Buff.”
She squeezed him again. “Giles will fix it.”
He nodded. “You’re right. I know. G-man always comes through in the pinch.”
“He does. He will. He has to.”
As soon as the music ended, Anya was right there, her lean face sharpened by an overly bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Did you have fun? Are you finished now?”
Xander rolled his eyes, but Buffy just smiled. “I did, very much. Thank you for sharing him.”
Anya’s smile now was genuine. “You’re welcome! But I would like him back now.”
Buffy stepped back. “All yours.” She watched as Anya swept Xander away, holding him indecently close as she re-established her territory. Buffy shook her head, smiling. Those two had such an odd relationship, but somehow it was also very romantic.
She glanced in the direction of Willow and Tara. Despite the increased tempo of the music, they continued to drift lazily in each other’s eyes. It still moved her to see how much they cared for each other.
With a sigh, she turned to head back to their table where, presumably, Riley was waiting for her. But raucous laughter from behind the catwalk stairs drew her attention. She peered around the column to see what was going on.
It was Spike, surrounded by half a dozen guys, holding court like some decadent princess or movie star. He had shed the jacket to reveal bare shoulders and arms pale as milk, the soft blue veining barely visible. He had a beer in one hand as he gestured with the other, emphasizing his words and his willowy limbs. These guys weren’t entranced, Buffy thought. They looked more like a pack of wolves waiting for their prey to not notice them so they could attack. One of them in particular was overly aggressive, feeling free to coast the back of his fingers down Spike’s arm or lay a hand across his upper thigh. Spike didn’t seem to notice, so intent was he on the tale he was spinning. He was just asking for trouble.
She pushed her way through the crowd to stand in front of him. “Spike!” She had to shout to get his attention.
Spike looked up at her, surprised. “Oh, hey, pet. I was just makin’ some new friends.”
Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure I like your taste in friends.”
Mr. Hands rose first. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just about what you might think.” She reached out and caught Spike’s wrist. “Come on. You need to dance.”
As she dragged him away, he swallowed a last mouthful of beer and dropped the cup on the table. “Thanks for the drinks, fellas. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
Buffy didn’t stop until they were in the middle of the floor, far away from the admiring throng, before turning around and pulling him into her arms. “You’re just asking for trouble, you know that?” she said, moving them naturally into the flow of dancers.
“Those guys?” He scoffed. “They’re harmless.”
“They’re harmless unless they put enough booze in you to think that they’ve earned something and that you’re too drunk to stop it.”
“Won’t they be in for a surprise, then?”
“Won’t you be if your little concentration trick doesn’t work and you can’t fight back.”
“Jealous, Slayer?” he smirked at her.
“I’m just trying to keep you from getting beat up. Or worse.”
“I think you saw me talking to those blokes and got jealous that I was payin’ all that attention to them and none to you.”
“You’re delusional,” she said derisively.
“Am I? Then why are you hard?” And he ghosted his hips lightly against hers, showing her the truth of his statement.
Buffy blushed but kept her face stern. “That doesn’t mean anything. That thing goes up and down for no reason at all.”
He didn’t quite laugh at her. “Oh no, Slayer, it goes up and down for very specific reasons. It’s a part of you, not its own separate entity. And it’s responding to what goes on in your head, consciously or unconsciously. You want me.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Oh, you think so? Let’s take a little survey, eh?” They were moving automatically to the rhythm of the music, but Buffy gave no thought to actual coherent dancing. “Did it come up, as you put it, when you were dancin’ so close with Harris?”
“No, of course not! He’s my friend, I don’t . . .”
“What about Red? Nice girl, pretty package, hell, you probably saw her naked a time or two when you were roomies. She get a standing ovation?”
“I don’t think of her like that . . .”
“Okay then, what about Soldier Boy?”
“That’s just disgusting!”
“The male body’s renowned for inappropriate responses, luv. You love him, or so you say, and you’re still Buffy in that noggin of yours. Be perfectly natural for all those squishy feelings to make their presence felt. But nothing, huh?”
She didn’t answer him.
“But you know what’s interesting? Every single time you’ve been around me in the last five days, you have been hard as nails. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tipped his head up to look at her, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue. “You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t control your reaction. You want me. You want me bad.”
She could hear the blood pounding in her ears, feel it coursing straight into her khakis, her eyes nearly crossing from the sudden pressure of her fast swelling cock. God, she did want him. So much.
And then he moved a little closer. “So you know, pet, I want you just as much. Maybe more. Want to know what it feels like to lie with you, touch you, feel you slide into me . . .”
She pushed him away like a viper, trembling with her own reaction, the desperate need sucking her in to do everything he was suggesting. He looked at her, hopeful, suggestive, and she felt herself weaken.
In a panic she turned and ran, leaving him alone on the dance floor. She fled back to the table where Riley was talking with Xander and Willow.
“Buffy?” Riley rose, laying a hand on her forearm. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” She snatched a cup up off the table and quickly swallowed some of the flat beer inside, hoping to settle her nerves. “It’s just really hot out there.”
Riley was about to pursue his concern when they all heard from nearby a very familiar accent insisting, “Shove off! I’m not goin’ anywhere with you!”
“Think you can tease us like that all night and not have to follow through?” a raspy, angry male voice responded.
“That’s exactly what I think, you . . . Hey, let me go!”
As one, they all turned to race towards the sound of the argument.
They found Spike in the grip of Mr. Hands near the pool table, obviously en route to being dragged out of the club. Riley grabbed Spike’s arm and yanked him out of Hands’ grip, shoving him back behind them to relative safety. “I don’t think the lady’s all that interested in leaving with you.”
“Yeah?” came the surly reply. “What’s it to you?”
“She came with us.”
“Big fuckin’ deal. She’s leaving with me.”
“No,” Buffy stepped forward, “she really isn’t.”
“Try and stop me.” And he lunged forward to grab Spike.
Buffy grabbed his arm and with a fierce twist, threw him spinning into the air to land on the pool table, sending balls shooting off in all directions.
“Hey!” one of the bullies with Hands protested. “You can’t do that to Steve!”
“Looks like I just did. Want some for yourself?”
Three more guys charged them, this time intent on her and Riley, giving Spike no thought. Buffy cold cocked the first one as Riley grappled with the second. The third nearly tripped over his fallen comrade trying to get to Buffy, and she used his imbalance to fling him against the far wall, fighting to limit her strength so as not to kill him despite her fury.
Steve was just starting to rise from the pool table when the bouncers arrived. “What’s going on here?”
“Sorry, Gary,” Riley apologized. “These guys got overly familiar with the lady and weren’t going to take no for an answer. We didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Gary, the head bouncer, looked at the dazed and fallen thugs, examining the situation. “Okay,” he said finally. “There isn’t any serious damage, and no blood, so I’ll let it go since it’s you, Riley. But I’m still going to need you to make a statement for my incident report. And the rest of you should head home. I think your evening’s done.”
“I think you’re right,” Riley confirmed.
“I’ll go find the girls,” Xander offered, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
“And I’d better walk Spike home,” Buffy said grudgingly. “Make sure his admirers don’t come looking for him.”
“Don’t need any favors from you, Slayer,” Spike grumbled, obviously embarrassed.
She sighed. “It’s in the job description, Spike. You helpless, me protect. Now get moving before I decide to stake you and spare myself any more aggravation.”
She ignored the looks she got from Riley and Spike, one quizzical and one very, very smug.
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