Hello, all! This is my first fanfic, and I'm looking for a Beta or two to assist in checking grammar/spelling, and to possibly give input for plot direction. Echoing every other writer on here, please review.
Disclaimer: To be honest, I don't know who technically "owns" BtVS. Obviously, it's not me. It's not like I'm making a profit from it (as if I could).
Buffy made her way back to the bar, winding her way through the sea of gyrating couples on the dance floor. The new outfit she wore was impractical for slaying. And why not? She needed a night off, and Giles had miraculously agreed. He and Ms. Calendar would patrol tonight. If any two people need to get laid, it's them! Buffy then stifled a gag, when she thought of the two of them in bed together.
Finally reaching her destination, she leaned back against the bar with her elbows propped up. Her short emerald green skirt caught what little light bathed the room, exhibiting her tanned, shapely legs. The strappy black heels, a gift from her mostly-absent father, added another four inches to her petite frame, making her seem slightly more intimidating. A modest black tank top finished her ensemble and her blonde hair was pulled up into a casual twist; the usual stray pieces of hair effortlessly framed her pouty countenance.
The occasional guy would give her an appreciative glance, but her guarded expression said "Thanks, but I'm not interested." A little attention was fine, flattering even…but she was not in the mood to be charmed by some would-be Romeo.
A quick survey of the room indicated that Willow and Oz had left their table to find a quieter place to study. Buffy smiled to herself, thinking that her two redheaded friends certainly went against the stereotypes associated with their hair color group. And no doubt Xander and Cordelia had found their way to some cozy corner of the Bronze to either argue or makeout. Most likely one then the other.
Always the fifth wheel, she mused. Buffy let out a sigh, allowing herself a small pity party, before snapping out of it. She was the Slayer! The Chosen One! She was a lone wolf…a solo act…a solitary guardian…a…um…wait, where was she going with this?
"Compliments of the 'gentleman' at the end of the bar," the bartender announced behind her. She turned around in time to catch the harried worker roll his eyes at the cheesy line he'd just delivered. She hadn't missed the sarcasm laced in his voice when he had spoken the word 'gentleman.'
Buffy looked at him quizzically. His response was a shrug and a gesture toward the person in question. Before looking over, she brought the clear drink up to her nose and had a quick nip of the odorless liquid. She realized why the bartender had rolled his eyes. Water? She glanced over to where her generous benefactor stood.
All the way to her left, sitting at the bar, was your typical clean-cut frat boy. She knew the breed, from his blond, strategically-mussed hair to the I'm-too-cool-for-real-shoes flip-flops. The t-shirt he donned from the most recent fratastic event was a dead giveaway, as well.
He waved shyly, making his way over to her. Buffy raised an eyebrow at his daring approach, but did not move. Attention was distracting…no, wait, what? Attention was flattering. That's what she meant. Obviously.
"Hey, I'm Mike. How's the drink?"
Buffy forced a smile. She took an obligatory sip, and then she smiled again.
"Clever. Did you have to call in a special favor with the owner to get the extra ice?"
Mike looked suddenly perplexed, but didn't let his confusion deter him.
"No, I don't know the owner. It's just water. Right?"
"Right, Mike." Buffy inwardly rolled her eyes, but bit her tongue from adding any other cutting remarks. They were lost on this guy, anyway. "So…" Buffy trailed off.
"So, can I get your name? Or am I asking too much?" Mike smiled broadly, confident in his conversational tactics, apparently.
"I'm sorry. I'm…Lindsay." Hoping he didn't catch the slight hesitation, she brought the glass to her lips and downed the rest of the water. She could stand to be polite for a while longer.
"Lindsay, huh?" Mike looked skeptical for about half a second. "That's always been my favorite name. For a girl, that is. Not for, like, a kid or anything, though. I mean, it's a nice name for a little girl. I would probably think of naming my kid Lindsay. But I don't have any kids, obviously. I just like the name Lindsay. It goes well with my name, Mike…"
Buffy almost choked on her water, holding back the laughter from listening to Mike dig himself into an ever-deepening hole.
"…I actually love kids. Well, like kids. I'm just not ready, at this stage of my life, to have any. I mean, I'm still looking for the right girl. Right? Hahaha…Oh geez, I sound like an idiot, I know. I'm sorry. I'm just a little nervous."
Hmmm…apparently he's not as smooth as he was trying to make himself out to be.
"Why?" Buffy asked.
"Why are you nervous?" This was getting annoying. Maybe she shouldn't have encouraged him. So much for charity.
Mike stared at her for a minute, as if he was studying her. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he quickly looked away, scanning the room. Finding whomever he was searching for, he called out.
"Hey! Joey! Hey, bro! Come over here!"
A shorter version of Frat Boy Mike made a beeline over to where his "brother" was standing with Buffy. Joey had a pleasant face, with somewhat jacked-up teeth. His thick, dark eyebrows furrowed together in mock toughness, but did nothing to mask his insecurity, as he used one of his thick hands to smooth his coarse hair. He wore a UC Sunnydale lacrosse t-shirt, jeans, and an unrecognizable brand of sneakers. His artificial-looking biceps suggested steroid use. Utterly forgettable.
Buffy sighed, but forced a respectful grin, as Joey unabashedly checked her out. What had she gotten herself into? Enough with the pretenses…
Suddenly, the room began to get blurry. Buffy closed and opened her eyes, and everything seemed normal. Mike introduced his "bro" to her, but his voice seemed distant, like an echo. Joey and Mike made small talk and she listened politely, nodding in assent when she was expected to agree to whatever it was they talked about. She hoped they didn't notice her spacing out.
Surely the feeling of disorientation would pass. She wasn't sick. And she didn't have anything to drink, so she couldn't be drunk. It was probably just getting late and the stress was most likely getting to her. It's not easy to be everything to everyone.
Joey looked at her and asked her a question. She stared back at him blankly. What had he asked her? He laughed and looked over at Mike who shrugged. Joey grabbed Buffy's hand and led her onto the dance floor. She allowed him to do so, ignoring the faint urge to knee him in a most sensitive area. Her limbs felt oddly heavy. What was wrong with her?
It was as if everyone and everything, including Buffy, moved in slow motion. She stared into the distance as she felt Joey pull her against him. He wasn't much taller than her, but he bravely used his hands to explore her body. They swayed off-beat to the sensual music playing. He pulled her even closer to her, groping her butt to grind her hips into him. He then forced her head onto his shoulder. Buffy saw, through her hazy vision, that the other couples on the floor didn't so much as glance over in her and Joey's direction. They probably just looked like another intimate duo, dancing at the Bronze.
She felt one of his hands grab her breast and knead it roughly. Unsatisfied with the clothing that concealed her skin from his touch, he began to work his hand up the inside of her top. The hand that held her butt now reached further down to the inside of her thigh, under her skirt. He pressed on the crotch of her underwear, and then used his fingers to pull the garment to the side. She could defend herself! She wasn't helpless! She was no victim; she was Buffy the Vampire Slayer!
But her limbs felt weighted down, and her senses were dragging at a sluggish pace…she felt as if she'd been shot full of tranquilizers.
She thought he heard Joey whispering in her ear. She only caught phrases, but she got the idea, even in her weakened state.
"…so much fun…not over, yet…glad we met…just you wait…make my bros jealous…"
Buffy closed her eyes and used all her energy to move the hand that seemed determined to trespass under her underwear.
At that instant, however, she felt another person's arm wrap around her waist from behind. She opened her eyes in time to see the person's (man's?) other arm push Joey to the ground. Falling on his ass, Joey looked up at his assailant. Whomever he saw behind her was intimidating enough to make him back off immediately. He stormed off, looking like the kid who had his ice cream stolen by the neighborhood bully.
Buffy was confused by Joey's hasty retreat, but relieved to know that he and his straying hands were out of the picture. She let herself go slack into the hard body behind her, barely recognizing the familiar scent that emanated from the man who still held her against him.
She breathed him in deeply, then exhaled the name of the person who had to be behind her… "Angelus…"