Chapter Text
Spike went down the hallway on the balls of his feet, relieved to have a bounce literally back in his step. The revelation that he could fight demons changed everything. He had purpose again. Something to do. No more uselessly sitting on the sidelines. The Slayer’s mates had failed to see how important it was, and clearly found no draw in going out to enact justice on the world, but Spike had a pretty good idea who would. The girl herself might not like him, or even be talking to him currently, but she’d understand. The need to fight and scrap and bloody well do something was part of who she was. Neither of them were built to sit on their hands and watch the world go by.
He sighed, giving a brief thought to her hands. Wonderful, wicked hands that had come to occupy many of his musings since the whole mystical engagement bollocks.
Because that was the other thing.
While he’d been wallowing in his inability to hunt and feed, Spike had spent the rest of his time replaying scenes from that damned, blessed day. It had been a nightmare, it had been bliss, and his head was turned by it all. The experience had unlocked something, bringing back to the surface all of those dreams he’d had since first laying eyes on the Slayer. But the ‘something’ it unlocked – desire, longing, unrestrained want – made the wallowing worse, because he knew he was less than nothing to her.
At least before, as a foe, he'd had a place in her life. And being allies against Angelus had been grand, for the brief time it lasted, but they weren’t friends. Take away the fighting, and there had been nothing left but eye rolls and sarcasm. Enjoyable as that could be, it wasn’t enough. But now – now! – he could fight again. He couldn't feed himself like a self-respecting vamp, but if the bloody electric leash meant he had the chance to be something more to Buffy than a thorn in her side, bring on the butcher counter!
All right, so maybe it was wishful thinking, looking on the bright side of his unfortunate situation, but what else could he do? Roll over and take the latest beating life had handed him? Not at least try for what he wanted? Fuck no. Spike was many things, but a quitter wasn’t one of them. If he stood a chance, he tried, that’s just who he was. And this new revelation was just the chance he needed. Yes, he’d thought about ending things mere hours ago, but that was before this new path opened up. He wasn’t gonna waste it. No way he was staying in bloody Xander’s musty basement, watching TV with him and Red while the boy’s parents fought upstairs. Anything was better than that. And the possibility of spending time with Buffy? Best of all.
All this playing on his mind, Spike pressed the ‘up’ button and waited for the elevator doors to close. He’d planned to get out on her floor, saunter over to her door and take a moment to compose himself before striding on in, delivering his carefully prepared speech about wanting to fight the good fight. And, when she called his bluff, as she would undoubtedly do, he would shrug and admit he wanted to hit things. Then she’d sigh and get on with it, because she liked hitting things, too. Easy.
Except the lift doors opened and there she stood, looking radiant. Angry, too, but mostly radiant.
Spike looked up and swallowed, all of his thoughts and plans and words swiftly vacating his head as his mouth went dry. Bugger it all.
“What are you doing here?” Buffy asked, crossing her arms.
He was halfway through stammering something – he barely knew what – when the doors began to close again. Both Buffy and Spike put a hand out to stop them, their fingers lightly grazing each other before she pulled back like she’d been scalded.
“You know what? I don’t have time for this.” She stepped in, holding her finger on the ‘down’ button, all the while glaring a hole right through his stupidly empty brain. “You can tell me on the way.”
“Way to where?” Spike questioned.
Buffy’s eyes flicked away. “I asked you first.”
“Right then.” He was still trying to remember any of his blasted speech when there was a ding and the doors finally closed – sealing them both in. The lift started the descent but didn’t get very far before the lights flickered once, twice, three times. Then the entire contraption shook and just as abruptly stopped again.
“What the hell?”
Dim emergency lighting flicked on and Spike watched as Buffy looked around as if assistance would fall out of the ceiling. When it didn’t materialise, she turned her glare back on him.
“Oh, come on!” He returned the glare best he could, but couldn’t be sure how convincing it was. Situation didn’t seem all that bad, to him. “You can’t possibly be thinking this is my fault.”
Buffy’s arms once again crossed in front of her pert tits. “Try me.”