Can't Help Falling in Love (with you) or

The Elvis Series

A/N: This is an idea I got the other day listening to the Elvis Top 30s CD. So many of the songs screamed out Buffy and Spike and I felt compelled to do something about it. It will be similar to my Do What You Have to Do fic; more character piece than plot. Actually, this fic will expand over several years, taking snapshots of the characters lives. This will be a medium length fic, approximately 15 chapters or so and each chapter will be named after an Elvis song (or famous line from an Elvis song). Most of the chapters will have the song lyrics to them; sometimes they will be changed (when Buffy or Spike is singing the song) to fit our characters. This fic, for the most part, it will be very light and fluffy. There will be a handful of chapters (including the first two) that will be heavy on the angst, but after that, it's gonna be fun. I think our Spuffy needs to have fun, don't you?

Spoilers: Some rumored spoilers from the last five episodes but for the most part will be Post-Season 7.

Disclaimer: All characters are Joss's and yada, yada, yada. You know the drill. And none of the lyrics are mine, either.

Rating: R, just to be on the safe side.

Are You Lonesome Tonight?

He never hid from the reality that it would happen. Why fight what was inevitable? Still, knowing something and experiencing it were on two opposite ends of the bloody spectrum. He had tried his damnedest to keep hope from springing forth at the subtle niceties Buffy graced him with, the pleasant changes in their relationship. Of course, he had failed miserably in that department; but he couldn't be blamed. He had volunteered to leave this god-forsaken town and what did she do? 'I'm not ready to not have you here', followed by those incredibly beautiful doe eyes of hers glancing his way. That admission was enough to crumble the foundations from his decision not to hope and he had become the same lovesick ponce—albeit not as obvious this time—as he used to be.

"Should've left like the rest of 'em," he said and eyed the amber liquid that sloshed back and forth in the tiny shot glass. There was no doubt that if he had left then that things would have been easier for him. 'Course, there was that tiny ordeal with the First she had needed him for.

"Didn't need me for that, now did she?" he muttered and gulped down the liquor, thankful for the distracting burn as it slithered down his throat. He had already downed a bottle of Yagermeister and was halfway through a bottle of Tequila but the bitterness remained. In fact, everything that had happened over the past week and a half seemed to magnify, coming into focus with supernatural precision—which wasn't bloody right at all, considering that alcohol was supposed to make you forget. And here he was, his mind still reeling from what he had seen twelve days ago, right after the most meaningful night of his life.

Can't you see, I love you

Please don't break my heart in two

That's not hard to do

Cause I don't have a wooden heart.

The words sung by the less than attractive Kralic demon burrowed into the haze of bitter consciousness that Spike still maintained. His eyes scanned the crowd and he shook his head in horror, noticing for the first time that the majority of the patrons were dressed in Elvis garb. God, he couldn't get away from poofters and Nancy-boys…er, demons, if he tried. He had come here because, for once, he didn't desire violence to lift his black mood and this Caritas was supposed to be the place for that. The blighters wove to and fro, cheering the Kralic—whom, if Spike was honest, didn't have that bad of a voice. In fact…

There's no strings upon this love of mine

It was always you from the start.

It was then that the words hit him. All humor and disgust drained from his face, replaced by an irrevocable sadness.

Treat me nice

Treat me good

Treat me like you really should

Cause I'm not made of wood

And I don't have a wooden heart.

His gaze fell to the floor, studying the scuffs along his Doc Martens. This was a demon bar and there was no bloody way he was going to let it get out that William the Bloody was a ponce who cried. Oh, yeah, he didn't deny that the sting that pilfered his retinas and the hazy film that blurred his vision were tears; he had moved past lying to himself. But that didn't mean that he had to let everyone else in on that secret.

As the song ended and the applause reverberated through the room, Spike sensed a presence beside him. He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and stared at whoever had the stones to invade his privacy. He was taken aback at the sight that greeted him.

"Hey, Sugar Cakes," the green-skinned demon said and smiled, blinding Spike with the brightest set of pearly whites the vampire had ever seen. Aside from that, the only other thing about the demon that stood out was…well, everything.

The stubby horns and crimson eyes were not particularly prominent—but the sodding suit that he was decked out in screamed out for attention. It was the babiest of bloody blues that the vampire had ever seen and had a tie to match. The plaid shirt—and who, by the way, still wore that aside from lumberjacks?—was diametrically opposite. It was an interesting mixture of black, purple and, what the bloody hell?—gold flyway collars. It hurt the vampire's eyes to stare at the ensemble too long, so he turned his attention to the argument on stage. Evidently the next performer wanted to sing a Capella—something his buddies seemed to oppose vehemently.

Spike poured himself another glass of Tequila, intent on ignoring the demon to his left. He scrutinized the liquid through the thick glass before downing it and slamming the glass to the table. When he looked up the demon was gone and Spike sighed in relief…until he turned around and came face-to-face with the demon.

"Feel free to join me," the vampire said and rolled his eyes. "I was only ignoring you so you'd take it upon yourself to pull up a chair."

"Whoa now, Super Cheeks," the demon said and raised his hands in peace. "Me no enemy. Me friend."

Spike's mood darkened even more at the demon's amiable tone. "Vampire, mate. Don't got any friends." Though he tried to go for disinterested and menacing, Spike heard the sadness that tinged his words.

The demon smiled and crossed his legs. He regarded Spike for a minute in a way that unnerved the vampire. It was something about the other demon's eyes that weren't quite right…as if they were looking straight through to Spike's…

"Wow," the demon said and whistled. "And here I thought Angel Baby was the sole recipient of that little gift." Spike frowned at the demon and his casual repose melted into battle ready tension. The other demon saw the change in Spike's demeanor and laid a hand on the vampire's forearm.

"I come in peace, my blue-eyed Adonis." Spike glanced at the demon's hand on his arm and back up to the bloodshot eyes. The demon got the message and raised his hands as a peace offering. "Sorry. I'll remember to not make with the touching again."

" 'S good strategy to 'ave. Great 'ealth plan too."

"Health plan?"

Spike chuckled. "Yeah. Guarantees you not to be dismembered by one pissed off vampire. Quite a perk, wouldn't you say."

"Angel told me you were one with the hostility but I never thought that you'd be able to match Mr. Brood-tacular with the sulking." Spike gave the demon a warning growl and though he had originally come here to avoid trouble, he wouldn't back away from it.

"If I were you, mate, I'd forget you ever saw me, mosey on over to that both over there where that Kralic demon is obviously waiting for you and get back on with my life."

"I would do that, Spike if you weren't screaming to be heard."

"What the bloody 'ell are you yammerin' about?"

The demon stuck up his hand and Spike systematically ignored it. It didn't dapper the demon's disposition in the least. "Not Zen with the contact, huh? Anyway, the name's Lorne, and I'm the owner of this humble abode."

"Bully for you. Wha's that gotta do with harrassin' the customers?"

"Well, it's quite simple really. I read auras."

Spike chuckled. He glanced back at the Kralic demon who anxiously wrung his hands then back to this Lorne character. "Through Karaoke?"

"Well…"

"You have to be bloody well kiddin' me!" Spike shouted and was greeted by several menacing glares.

"Hey, Buddy," the demon on stage said, "could you tone it down. I'm trying to get in the mood up here."

"Sod off," the Brit replied and scowled at Lorne's amused expression.

"Mr. Hostility back at it again. What gigantic Bezeor burrowed its way into your tush?" On Spike's befuddled, and obviously, unamused look, Lorne shook his head. "All right, bad joke. Getting back to my point, yeah, I do read auras through singing. Kinda amazing for someone from a music-less dimension, huh?"

"What?"

"Forget I mentioned it. But that's not the only way for me to read you. Singing makes it clearer but if there's enough pain involved, it calls to me nonetheless. Like with you." He leaned closer towards the vampire as if he were about the part wisdom of the ages and when Lorne spoke, his voice was a scant whisper although the vampire could here it clearly enough. "She was here the other day, looking for you."

A pained expression crossed Spike's face and he had to fight with everything he had not to jump across the table and rip the truth from Lorne's chest, sanctuary spell be damned. "She was now?" he asked with a weary indifference. "Mind tellin' me who you're goin' on about, mate, cause, I know a lot of 'she's'."

"Yeah, but only one is Chosen, isn't that right?"

Spike shrugged and returned his attention back towards the stage. The soon-to-be performer had just finished discussing the particulars of the performance and now, with mic in hand, he was about to begin.

"You won't wanna miss this solo. Gets 'em every time," Lorne whispered conspiratorially across the table. "Take a gander and I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Spike replied. Bloody wankers, he thought, never know how to leave a bloke be.

He would have continued the rant were it not for the song that blindsided him as soon as the first note was sung.

Are you lonesome tonight,
do you miss me tonight?
Are you sorry we drifted apart?

Buffy. Even if he tried, nothing could remove the image forever burned into his mind of his slayer as she slept next to him. Her petite form had fit perfectly against his side. The dream to hold her so intimately had never died though the realistic expectations had long ago and when she had come to him with tears in her eyes, Spike half expected himself to wake up. But it was no dream. It was as real as the love he carried for her that suffused through his entire being.

Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day
When I kissed you and called you sweetheart?
Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?
Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?

He had observed her the entire night, getting no more than an hour of sleep. During that time he had wondered what it was like for her, what her dreams were like. Was he ever in them? Did she ever smile thinking about him, about what they could be?

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Those thoughts had died when he thought about the pressure that was on her. Though he didn't understand everything that had happened, evidently she had been ostracized by her friends, blamed herself for a potential's death and still hadn't found a way to defeat the First. No, he had no illusions that she was here for comfort; not out of love, not out of desire or devotion. Comfort. Plain and simple.

I wonder if you're lonesome tonight
You know someone said that the world's a stage
And each must play a part.
Fate had me playing in love you as my sweet heart.

Spike ignored the raspy deliverance of the spoken dialogue and was instead transfixed by the words that spelled out exactly what he felt.


Act one was when we met, I loved you at first glance
You read your line so cleverly and never missed a cue

He saw Buffy, dancing in the Bronze with her friends that first night he breezed into town. The scent of fear at his declaration to kill her was invigorating. But that same scent had vanished when they fought, transformed into a lust for the fight, for the dance they had done so well.


Then came act two, you seemed to change and you acted strange
And why I'll never know.

Her change had started during Joyce's illness. There were times that she had treated him like a man, like part of the group. And before she died, they were so close to…But it didn't matter because it all changed when she returned. They had almost been friends before--before everything was wrecked.


Honey, you lied when you said you loved me
And I had no cause to doubt you.
But I'd rather go on hearing your lies
Than go on living without you.

He wasn't that bloody stupid. She'd never said what they had was love. Needing and loving were two different things. He had been needed for the apocalypse and as a shoulder to cry on--no more, no less. She did care for him, that much he knew, but it wasn't love. Still, there were times when he imagined that it would be; that she would see the change in him enough to love him. If he hadn't seen her with the Poof, he would have continued to lie to himself until he was dust covering the bloody ground. Now…


Now the stage is bare and I'm standing there
With emptiness all around
And if you won't come back to me
Then make them bring the curtain down.

Oh the soddin curtain was down, all right. It had lowered and chopped him in two. Seeing her and Angel together--he thought nothing could ever hurt as much as seeing the fear and loathing in her eyes after he had tried to...God, how wrong he was. Even now, after nearly a fortnight the pain had not lessened. In fact, each passing day had seen it increase, filling him with the realization that nothing he did would ever be enough for anyone.

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?
Tell me dear, are you lonesome
tonight?

As the cheers filled Caritas, Spike rubbed at his eyes, noticing for the first time the tears that he had shed. He turned towards Lorne--who had reappeared by his side--and saw the sympathy in the other demon's eyes. He wanted to feel anger at being pitied but the gash that bled his soul would not allow it. No matter what he tried to do, no matter what he tried to think of, all he could see was Buffy kissing Angel. And despite her change in attitude over the past few months, all he could hear were her words the night they had broken their tenuous friendship last year.

"I was just convenient," he said. He stared at Lorne's blurry image before it got to be too much. "I…I can't stay here. I…" Words failed him and walked past the demon.

"Spike, wait," Lorne said and grabbed the vampire's hand. He stopped but didn't turn his head towards the other demon. "Where're ya goin'?"

"Anywhere but here."

"Sweetie, listen to me. You can't always trust your eyes. Sometimes you see things and what you see may not be what's really going on."

Spike chuckled humorlessly. "You're right, you know. Two soul mates snoggin' out in the middle of the good old outdoors isn't really that, is it? That's the way they say 'hello', innit?"

Lorne sighed and Spike saw the sadness in his eyes. The vampire wasn't sure if it made things easier or harder but he wasn't going to stay around to find out.

"'S what I thought. Look mate, thanks for the shoulder but the Big Bad don't need one to cry on." He'd like to do that in silence. Yep, have himself a good cry, maybe kill something beforehand.

"Look, Kid…"

Spike whirled around and pinned Lorne with furious blue eyes. "No, you listen. Give. It. Up. I can't be saved, understand? Givin' up? Too late. Already 'ave. She was right all along. I'm nothing but convenient, you hear? Yeah, I may still do good but never here. Once I leave this god forsaken place, this soddin' state, I will never set foot in it again. Ever. Nothing can make me come back and nothing sure as hell can make me stay."

Lorne broke the gaze and peered over Spike's shoulder. His morose features dissipated and Spike was taken aback at the return of the supernova smile. Lorne released Spike's hand and readjusted his suit. He patted Spike on the shoulder and said, "You sure about that?"

Spike watched the strange demon saunter towards the stage. The platinum blonde shook his head in confusion and turned back towards the exit…

And had the wind knocked out of his undead lungs.

She was five feet away and he hadn't even sensed her. She stood there, hazel eyes glistening in the dim lights and hair hanging like a curtain past her shoulders in that way he loved. Her white blouse hung tightly across her breasts and the black leather skirt clung to her small hips.

She was beautiful.

"Spike." Her voice thrust Spike out of his stupor and he took two steps closer, the buzz from the alcohol suspended by her very presence. He was close enough to touch her, to smell the vanilla scent of her lotion and the fragrance underneath that was all Buffy.

But it couldn't be her. Why would she come to him? How would she even know where to look? No, it had to be an illusion. It had to be--and there was only one way to find out.

He lifted his arm to her face, unable to steady his trembling limb. He was so close to her that the heat from her flesh burned his hand. Her eyes never wavered and the hazel jewels sparkled even more when he made contact with her skin. She leaned into the touch and exhaled. The simple action was almost too much for the vampire and he let out a hysterical chuckle.

"Yes, Spike," she said and mimicked his gesture. The warmth of her hand coaxed the suspended tears from his eyes and the next thing he knew, Spike was on his knees and in the arms of his slayer.

He didn't know what the hell was going on but he wouldn't take this for granted ever again.

Especially since this was the last time he would ever hold her.

TBC in Chapter 2: Fools Rush In…