Indigo Overture – Chapter Two

Rating:  Eventually NC17 – for this chapter – PG13

 

San Diego had been a bust.  The worst sodding show they’d had in months, and as a topper to the sundae, Spike felt like hammered shit.  His eyes were hot, his head throbbed, and to beat all else, it was his turn to drive.  He clambered behind the wheel of the van and rubbed his eyes.

 

It was 4:00 am in the parking lot of a greasy spoon diner.  Their 15 passenger van currently held six people, a full set of speakers and instruments (with some stuff stowed in a roof safe) and a scad of empty soda cans and donut boxes.  Oh yeah, the life of a rock band was so glamorous.

 

He adjusted the mirror and softened when he caught sight of Oz and Willow.  She was pillowed on his chest, dozing quietly.  He was resting, eyes closed, but mind working, as was usual for Oz.  His fingers batted out a bass line on her shoulder. 

 

Xander snored on the floor.  He always slept on the floor.  In fact, he was always sleeping.  Never driving.  It was an issue that made Spike’s eye twitch, but he was just too tired to bitch.  He’d let that dog lie for now.

 

Angel and Buffy got in the back and after they tugged the door closed, Spike pulled out onto the highway.  He popped a Sex Pistols CD into the radio, but kept the volume low.  One consolation was that the van belonged to Oz and Oz didn’t give a shit how he drove or what music he played.  Hell, the bloke was good enough to let him smoke when he was driving…despite Red’s many protests.

 

He lit a fag and tried to focus on the music, but his ears and eyes kept pulling to the rearview mirror.  Angel was brooding.  His head was slung back against the headrest, strong jaw twitching in the light that flickered through the windows.  That same light played on his girlfriend, bathing her sleepy features in an orange glow. 

 

Damn, but that girl was gorgeous.  Her eyes were closed and her head was resting on Angel’s shoulder, the golden spray of her hair curving around her chin and over his arm.  When had he last felt the silk of a woman’s hair against his arm?

 

Drusilla.  It was always Drusilla.

 

Spike kept his eyes on the road and his mind in the past.  Her dark beauty haunted him still.  He could still picture her in the kitchen of their flat.  The Family Flat.  That’s what they had called it, Dru and Darla and Angel and him.  Dru and he were babies when it had all started.   

 

He had grown up with her, separated by less than a block in distance and a year in age.  They had played in the same yards, groaned over the same teachers, and graduated from the same school.  And through every damn year, he had loved Drusilla Simmons more than life.  His mind could still conjure the perfect image of her raven hair and doe eyes.  She had been his life.

 

So when she had gone to Oxford, he naturally followed.  Dru decided she didn’t want to live in student accommodations.  She wanted something wild and new, something they’d write about in the stars someday.  He hadn’t had a bloody clue what she meant.  Dru never did make sense.  But she had batted those eyelashes and shown him the advertisement in the newspaper with a smile that melted him into a pile.  And a week later he found himself meeting Angel and Darla in a noisy pub on the outskirts of campus. 

 

God, his knees had shaken on that night.  Angel and Darla had blown him away.  They were older, wiser, and infinitely cooler.  They looked like a magazine cover, all sharp eyes and slick clothes.  Bigger than life, they were.  In comparison he felt small and exposed, his heart thumping in fear for the girl on his arm. 

 

But, a few beers washed the intimidation away.  Soon enough, the four of them were gabbing away like old friends.  They spoke of music and travel and the madness of humanity.  They spoke of breaking out, of running free, of a thousand Hollywood dreams that sent his mind reeling.  Dru’s hand had slipped over his knee beneath the table, her eyes bright with a fire he’d never known.  Before he knew what had happened, he was drunker than he’d ever been and a signed lease was folded on the table.

 

They were moving in with Darla and Angel.    Moving into the Family Flat.

 

Spike shook away the memories and changed lanes, flicking his cigarette out the window.  Everyone was asleep, passengers slack-mouthed and breathing deeply.  He secretly loved these moments, the quiet rumble of the van, his own music thumping softly through the speakers.  And he was left alone to watch them all sleep.

 

He’d always had trouble sleeping.  How many nights had he sat at the scratched wooden table in their flat, watching the three of them slumber?  Darla and Angel and Dru bathed in the soft light of the muted telly, Angel’s arms around their shoulders, their beautiful faces snuggled into his sides.

 

He hadn’t been jealous of Angel.  It wasn’t like that.  Things were different there.  Logic and rules just didn’t apply.  Besides, if it hadn’t been for Angel, he’d never have done anything of interest.  He would have been William forever, never Spike.  He would have never gotten drunk enough to slip his hand under Drusilla’s skirt.

 

And that’s how he remembered his first time.  A blur of half empty scotch glasses scattered across Angel’s big bed.  And Drusilla’s soft mewling as he petted her back onto the mattress, his lips worshipping her as if he had waited his whole life for this moment.  And indeed he had.  Beside them, Angel and Darla made their own noises, the smell of sex and liquor strong in the air.  But Drusilla’s voice drowned them out.  She swept him away with her endless babbling about the moon and the stars and secrets whispered on the breeze. 

 

Six months later that same voice had babbled to someone else and he swore his heart would never beat again.  Even now, he could see himself standing at the door to their room, the one they had shared since that night with all the scotch.  He could remember hearing her moans and the slide of her skin against the sheets.  He had swallowed hard on the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat, because it wasn’t him in that room.  It wasn’t him between her thighs. 

 

A car passed, bright lights burning his eyes and dragging him back to the present.  He returned his gaze to the rearview mirror where Angel’s profile was shadowed.  Angel.  It was appropriate, yeah?  After all, who had saved him when his world came crashing down?

 

The track changed on the CD and his gaze traveled past Angel’s chin, resting on the smooth skin of Buffy’s forehead.  Even in sleep, her hand reached for the nape of Angel’s neck.  Angel didn’t notice.  He hadn’t noticed much of her at all tonight. 

 

It was Angel’s way.  He was focused on the performance, frustrated with their failure.  Nothing was going to cheer him right now, not even pretty pink-tipped fingers stroking his hair.  Even when those fingers were attached to a girl with eyes like green diamonds and skin so soft, it begged to be kissed. 

 

Buffy’s lips parted in a sigh and the Sex Pistols sang on,

 

“You need hands to hold someone you care for....
When you fear...nobody wants to know you
You need hands to brush away the tears....”

 

Buffy’s fingers traced his jaw, and Spike’s skin itched at the sight.  He jerked his eyes back to the road and his mind back to where it belonged.  Away from the past.  And definitely away from Angel’s girl.

 

***

Two weeks after the worst show ever, they were still reeling from the aftermath, or at least Angel was.  Living with him since that night had been an adventure hell, so Buffy was grateful to be in a new place, even if that place was Xander’s apartment, which smelled faintly of stale cheese somehow.  Still, stale cheese or not, it was better than tiptoeing through her own living room, trying not to do or say anything too chipper.  Because God forbid someone try to cheer up her boyfriend, Sir Sulksalot. 

 

So, yeah, tonight she was really fine with him wanting to write.  She was totally okay that he had blown off Xander’s offer to host a Saturday game night to whoever could make it.  She was more than ready for a bit of time on her own.  As much as she loved him, she needed a break from the brooding. 

 

She was bummed when she arrived to find that Oz wouldn’t be there either.  But four was the perfect Parcheesi number and Buffy was determined to have a good time.  After the second round of Parcheesi, Xander dozed off with his bowl of popcorn on the couch.  The party had dwindled to Spike, Willow, herself and a deck of cards.  And of course, Spike wasn’t interested in playing Go Fish or Old Maid.

 

“It’s a flush,” Buffy said triumphantly as Willow and Spike blinked. 

 

Willow squinted at the cards and frowned and Spike exhaled a stream of smoke beneath the low-hanging light and lowered a steely gaze over the table.

 

“It’s a flush?” she repeated less certainly.

 

“It’s not a bloody flush,” Spike said.

 

“Well, what kind of flush is it?” Buffy asked, dropping her eyes to the table.

 

“Um, not any kind,” Willow said softly.

 

“But, they’re all black,” Buffy whined.

 

“They have to be all one suit,” Willow added.

 

“Oh,” she said, avoiding a pair of blue eyes that were probably sparking with anticipation.  She knew he’d be chomping at the bit to rub this in. 

 

She quietly folded the cards and watched his long fingers pull the money across the table, “In any event, a straight would beat it, pet.”

 

She finally braved his stare as she pushed in a new quarter.  So, she wasn’t great at poker.  She’d only learned an hour ago.

 

“Don’t worry, Buff; you’ll get the hang of it.  By next game night, you’ll be a poker pro!” Willow said, “Right, Spike?”

                          

His lips twitched, and she braced herself for some well earned mockery.  But then something very strange happened.  Spike smiled.  A normal, nice smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.  And for reasons that she could only guess were shock-related, her belly did a little loop-de-loop. 

 

“Course she will.  I’m teaching her, yeah?”

 

Buffy averted her gaze quickly, but not so quickly that she failed to notice that he had really pretty eyes behind all that black leather and bad attitude.  She was going to go for a snappy comeback, but honestly her heart wasn’t in it.  She could still see him smiling from the corner of her eye, and after all the Angel crankiness she wasn’t in the mood for any more bickering.  So, she smiled back and accepted the cards he dealt.

 

“Daft men you’ve both got,” he breezed, “Leaving their birds alone with me.  Lucky for them I’m too honorable to talk you out of your pants in addition to your money.”

 

“Please.  You couldn’t talk my pants out of a fire,” Buffy retorted in mock disgust.

 

“Funny that something hot comes to mind when you think of me and your pants, eh, luv?”

 

“Where does someone go to learn this level of perversion?” Buffy asked with a scowl.

 

“My bedroom,” Spike replied and Willow snorted in laughter.

 

“Ba-dum-bump!” the redhead said with a grin. 

 

“Hey, Will, my side, please?” Buffy warned with a grin. 

 

“Sorry, it was kind of funny, though.”

 

“Kind of funny?  It was brilliant, thank you.”

 

“Don’t get all excited.  It wasn’t Monty Python or anything,” Buffy breezed, playing her single piece of knowledge about his home country.  She hoped it would throw him a curve.  By the way he blinked and gaped, she guessed it did.

 

“What does Little Miss Prom Queen know about Monty Python?” he stumbled.

 

“Reduced to mocking my high school days?  You’re just one step away from cootie jokes, Spike.” Buffy clucked, shaking her head at Willow, “Sad, really.”

 

“Sad how?” Spike asked, his eyes glittering with mischief, “Look at you, with your bouncy hair and your little tappy heels.  You might as well wear still wear your tiara and a Homecoming banner.”

 

“I wasn’t Homecoming Queen, you pig.”

 

“You may not have been prom queen, but I’ll be buggered if I’m not on the right track here,” Spike finished, dropping his forgotten hand to the table.

 

“Oh, you think so?” Buffy teased back, laying down her cards too, “So I suppose I should assume your leather-wearing, cancer-stick-smoking, rebel-without-a-clue routine should automatically mark you as a drop-out, right?”

 

“Uh, Buffy,” Willow warned as Spike’s smirk deepened and his head tilted.

 

“Is that what you think?” Spike prodded eyes bright and challenging.

 

“Well, just look at you!” Buffy said, smile still playing at the corners of her glossy lips, “Poor Spikey,” she mock-sighed, “full of angst and rage against the system.  So you flunked out, or got expelled, and then left home to make it on your own, or mooch off of college students, which is maybe the same in your warped mind.”

 

“Uh huh,” Spike said, crossing his arms, “You sure about that?”

 

“I’ll bet I’m close,” she said, leaning forward until she could rest her elbows on her small pile of change.  Willow was trying desperately to get her attention, but Buffy was ignoring her repeated throat clearing and worried looks.  She was having too much fun. 

 

“I’ll tell you what.  If you’re so sure, why don’t we put a little wager on it?  We can each give our personal version of our tender late teen years.  Whoever is closest takes home a little dosh.”

 

Spike slouched back in his chair, the pink tip of his tongue darting to his bottom lip while he waited for her response.  Buffy pouted, eyeing him warily.

 

“Who decides who wins?”

 

“Red,” he said, and Buffy swore she heard the redhead breathe a tiny “Gee, great,” before he continued, “She knows plenty enough about my past, and I’ll reckon with all your late-night nail painting sessions, she’s learned a bit about yours.”

 

“She has,”  Buffy said, casting a sideways glance at Willow, but her friend was busy doodling on a score pad leftover from Rummy.  Buffy knew she probably shouldn’t, but she was just too caught up in it now.

 

“How much?” she asked Spike.

 

“Twenty bucks,” he said cracking his neck with a tilt of his jaw. 

 

“You’re on, Bleach Boy.”

 

“I’ll go first,” he said, lighting a new cigarette.  “Buffy Summers.  I still say it’s not a real name,” 

 

Her hackles rose at the mention of their first altercation, but she ignored it.  It was different now.  First, she hated him.  Now…well, she still hated him, but he was so much fun to hate!  Which had to be a little better, right?  Spike leaned back in his chair, propping his clunky boots on the table for effect.  Total Drama King.

 

“I can almost see you walking the halls, handing out little muffins so people will vote you Prom Queen or Class Beauty or whatever other insipid title you wanted as your own.  Or maybe you were just the head cheerleader, dating the captain of the football team.”

 

Ha!  He couldn’t be farther from the truth.  She had never even been nominated for court in any of the major events, and cheerleading couldn’t be further than her thing. 

 

“But, what they called you is inconsequential.  You were always the Princess.  So damn gorgeous, you probably made boys stumble into their lockers and trip down stairs.  But you weren’t a snob.  No, you were the picture of grace, a real Audrey Hepburn.  Your smile illuminated the hallways, and your honey-voiced greeting probably turned every male in earshot into a wobbly kneed ponce.”

 

His voice was sharp, stinging like a blade.  But the words!  Oh, those words.   Buffy felt her breath quickening as he went on.

 

“You were the one, weren’t you?  Your list of prospective suitors probably read like the local phone book, and I don’t mean dates, I mean suitors.  Because Buffy Summers was that spectacular kind of girl that men don’t just want to screw.  No, you’re the kind they wanted to marry.”

 

Buffy exhaled a breath she hadn’t been conscious of holding.  Had she ever received a more amazing string of compliments in her life?  Her face felt flushed and her heart was actually racing.  Beside her, even Willow let out a little puff of air.  No one had ever said anything so nice to her; no one had ever paid her a compliment that sounded so much like a slam, either. 

 

“And that’s why you didn’t go away for college,” Spike continued, dropping his feet to the floor and tapping the light so that it swung lazily back and forth over the table, “Everything about you was wound up in that little town.  So you stayed until Prince Charming rode up on his bloody white horse to drag you here.” 

 

Buffy blinked and wondered if she should feel offended, flattered or completely wigged out.  Because truth be known, he was right.  More right than she would ever admit, and thankfully more right than Willow even knew. 

 

Spike leaned forward, sneering as he stubbed out his cigarette, “So, maybe you weren’t the class president or the captain of the cheerleading squad, but you were always the Princess.  It’s still in you, from your pretty pink fingertips to the way you blush when you think someone is paying you a compliment.”

 

So, it wasn’t a compliment?  The words?  Very Buffy friendly.  The tone?  Not so much.  Buffy made a face and thought about asking, but then, how do you ask something like that without looking completely self absorbed?

 

He leaned back in his chair again and crossed his arms, “Your turn.”

 

Buffy shook her hair, trying to whip away the uneasiness and confusion Spike’s “guess” had brought on.  She narrowed her eyes and rubbed her palms together, her teeth worrying her bottom lip just before she started.

 

“Okay, fine.  Spike in high school,” she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck right then left, like she did before a kick boxing competition.  “Hm, all that bleach and leather does get the message across.  You were always a rebel, I’m sure.  You were the kid who cut class and swore at the teachers.  The guy caught in the bathroom smoking cigarettes and reading Playboy.”

 

His face was blank and her dared glance at Willow told her little more.  She still looked caught up in Spike’s speech, to be honest.  Or maybe Buffy was way off, here.  But how could she be?  His name was Spike, for God’s sake.  Not the kind of name you get from writing poetry and reading big musty books.

 

“So, yeah,” she said, more confident now, “You were the bad boy, probably went through more girls and more trouble than most men had at twice your age.  But, you had your reasons.  Your family was poor and you had to be strong, had to be tough to survive in your hood.”

 

Buffy frowned, a new thought occurring to her, “Wait…do you have hoods over there?”

 

“Hoods?” he asked, with mild interest.

 

“Yeah, hoods, ghettos, seedy parts of town?” she said, wrinkling her nose in curiosity.

 

“Don’t be daft.  Course there are bad parts.  It’s London, not Camelot.”

 

She curled her lip in distaste and slid her gaze sideways from him, “Whatever.  So, you were a delinquent and as is par for course with your sort, you eventually ticked off the wrong person.  Some type of authority figure got fed up with your crap and threw you out of school.  Too proud to admit failure, you left home, determined to scrape out a living on your own…. eventually leading you to bars, then bar bands, then Angel’s bar band.”

 

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug and lifted her brows.

 

Spike blinked and sucked in his bottom lip.

 

“Angel really didn’t tell you anything, did he?” he said, and his expression was unreadable.  Something about that statement twisted in her gut.  Because he really hadn’t said much about it.  Spike was his roommate when he was studying music in London.  That was it, that’s all she knew.  And why was that?  Why didn’t he talk more about things like that?  Why didn’t she ask?

 

“He told me you were his roommate,” she said, not surprised to hear her voice had fallen flat, “Why?  Am I closer than you want to admit?”

 

Spike shook his head, “Not how it works, pet.  First you tell me how close I was.”

 

“Well,” Buffy smirked triumphantly, “If you insist on reverting to John Hughes terms, scary but fitting considering your obvious Billy Idol look-alike ambitions, I was never a princess.  I was, however, a jock.”

 

“A jock?” Spike said, his brows lifting in interest.

 

“Yeah,” Buffy confirmed, “I was a champion kick-boxer, a pretty good gymnast, and I even dabbled in a little fencing.”

 

“What about the rest of it?” he asked, lowering his voice to something that sounded almost intimate, “Did the boys fall at your feet?”

 

Her cheeks flamed and she dropped her gaze to the table, giving away the truth in a heartbeat.  Spike snickered and added, “How many hearts did you break, Buffy.”

 

“I tried hard not to break any,” she said quietly. 

 

“Right,” he said, and that one syllable word spoke volumes of bitterness. 

 

She lifted her eyes and challenged him, “So what about you?”

 

He gazed at her squarely, crossing his arms over his chest, “You couldn’t be further from the truth.  My family is affluent; I never had a day of trouble in school; I didn’t start smoking heavily until I got to this god-forsaken sun drenched state; and before coming here, I studied at Oxford like your Sweetie Bear.”

 

Buffy gasped, her expression reminiscent of someone who witnessed a cockroach landing in their cereal bowl, “You went to Oxford?” 

 

“Yeah, imagine me learning and reading and all that rot,” he said with a rueful smile, his eyes dark with bitterness.  Buffy didn’t like that.  It was supposed to be all fun and games, but Spike didn’t seem to be in the playing mood. 

 

“To study what, irritation specialization?” Buffy chuckled, trying to lighten things up.  But Spike wasn’t lightening.  What happened to the crinkly eyes and the banter?

 

“19th century literature,” he said simply, and Buffy looked like said cockroach had suddenly burst into song and dance.  She gaped for a full minute while Willow chewed her thumb and dodged her gaze.  Spike gathered the cards sullenly.

 

“You’re kidding,” she said, then turned to Willow, “He’s kidding, right?”

 

Willow lifted her brows and smiled in Spike’s direction, “Nope.  Spike is a closet geek.    He’s the only one here who can give me a run for my money at Trivial Pursuit.”

 

She suddenly felt like a preschooler in the presence of Harvard graduates.  She had struggled through three years studying fashion merchandising.  Struggled being the key word.  And here she was flanked by Willow (who finished a full ride to UCLA early) and Spike, apparently Oxford’s only leather-wearing, peroxide-toting literature scholar. 

 

“Color me surprised,” she said, shifting uncomfortably on her chair. 

 

Spike tossed the freshly gathered cards to the table with so much force that Xander jerked in his sleep on the couch a few feet away, “Why’s that, luv?” he snapped, “Too hard to imagine me being anything more than a brain-dead, drop-out drummer?”

 

Buffy jerked back in surprise.  No crinkle in those eyes at all.  Just the narrow, cold squint of the genuinely offended.  Okay, this was new.  Spike looked hurt.  Maybe she had been a little harsh.  She didn’t like admitting it, but she liked the icy look in his eyes even less. 

 

“Don’t worry,” he sneered, “I didn’t actually graduate, so part of your theory is safe.”

 

With a final muttering to Willow about a good game, he stood up and moved to the couch, lighting another cigarette and stealing the popcorn from Xander’s slack arm.  He flipped the channels on the TV until a music channel blared out something angry. 

 

“Why all the bitter?” Buffy whispered with a sideways glance at Will, “Was I that awful?”

 

“Oh, no!” she assured, then paused, “Okay, a little, but nothing that isn’t totally normal for the two of you.  That’s just an ooky subject with Spike.”

 

“You should have told me,” Buffy said.

 

“I tried, but you two were lost in Banter Land.  I might as well have been a lightswitch.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, frowning at Willow.

 

“Oh, don’t be.  I’m fine.” Willow leaned close and lowered her voice even further, “But maybe you should talk to him.”

 

Her eyes traced the outline of Spike’s shoulders, wondering how an Oxford student turns into a leather-clad whiskey-chugging drummer.  Angel was always into music, so that made sense.  But Spike wasn’t.  Honestly, it almost seemed like he just didn’t have anything better to do and was the kind of guy that was always looking for a good time.

 

But she didn’t know for sure.  She didn’t know anything about him for sure.  She stood up and scooted her chair in, sighing when Willow excused herself to the restroom.  She knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer.  She tiptoed over to the L-shaped couch.  Xander was still snoring, his arm tossed over his face as he slept.  He was taking up the longest portion of the couch and from where he was sitting, Spike had his legs spread wide, leaving a only one cushion open on either side of him. 

 

She sat down primly, smoothing her hands over her thighs and giving the television a cursory glance.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the blue light of the TV carve shadows beneath his cheekbones.  He hadn’t looked her way.  She wiggled her last twenty out of her jeans and held it towards him.

 

“Forget it,” he hissed.

 

But she wouldn’t.  Fair was fair, and he had won.  Buffy stood back up and returned to the card table to gather her purse and keys.  When Willow returned, she hugged her goodbye, then padded past the couch one last time on her way to the door.  She kissed Xander’s hair and whispered a thank you, to which he snuffled softly and rolled into the cushions.  Then she moved past Spike, feeling the chill from his stare on her shoulder.  She paused long enough to place the cash on the table in front of him.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, walking quickly to the door before he could respond.  

 

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