Killing Buffy Summers

Chapter Six: I Want You [She's So Heavy]


"Bloody hell!" he muttered under his breath, letting the door clang behind him.

The bleedin' Slayer had tossed his flowers—of course, she didn't know they were his, but that was beside the point. She was supposed to fall arse over tip for this secret admirer, not throw him into the bin. No way wooin' Buffy should be that hard—Angel'd managed it even with the soul holding him back.

"What gives?" Spike wondered aloud.

Damn. Those flowers hadn't been cheap, either.

Alright, maybe carnations weren't her gig. He vaguely remembered Angelus mentioning roses, but he wasn't going to try more bloody flowers. Dru had always liked it when he brought back a fresh little girl, but somehow he doubted Buffy wanted child's blood as a lover's gift.

Not that he was her lover, obviously. Or wanted to be. It was all for her sake—Dru's. Make Buffy happy, destroy her, run off into the bloody sunset. That was his plan.

Right.

So maybe the next best thing. Always put a grin on his face, after all, even after Dru left him. Slayer wouldn't go for bourbon, though. On the telly, they always used wine for such as this (Dru couldn't hold her alcohol, so he'd only tried that once). Might as well give that a go.


Her boot clanked against something, and she leaned down to inspect it.

Oh, not again. Her fingers gripped a bottle, and as she pushed the door open, Buffy could tell it was wine. A note was attached with a ribbon.

"To lighten your day," she read. "From your secret admirer."

The ex-Slayer (ex-ex-Slayer? she still wasn't sure if she was back in the biz or not) groaned. "You're an idiot, secret admirer. Well…I mean, not just for admiring me, but also, I mean—"


"No. Get out, Spike," Buffy said flatly.

"Can't deny me service, pet," he answered easily, sliding onto a bar stool like he'd been born on one. "Your job, innit?"

She gritted her teeth. "You are the biggest pain in my ass," she informed him. "Or maybe second biggest. That secret admirer guy is pretty bad."

"Yeah?" Spike feigned surprise. "He sent you something else, did he?"

"A bottle of wine."

"That's right thoughtful."

A weaker vampire might have burst into flames just at that glare. "I don't drink, Spike. Not to mention, I don't even know the creep. How sketch city is it to just give a girl a bottle of wine? It could be drugged or—poisoned or something. Besides, he obviously doesn't know me at all."

"Er, why's that, love?" He drummed his fingers on the counter, trying to look uninterested.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "If he had, he would have brought me chocolate. Or ice cream. Ooh, or chocolate ice cream," she said, eyes lighting up in that way he loved.

Loved in the strictly platonic/enemy sense. No romantic implications whatsoever.

"Well, at least he's trying," Spike offered.

"I guess." She sighed. "I wish he wouldn't. Why are you so interested anyway?"

He shrugged. "Got nothing better to do."

"How about ordering something?"

Alright. Flowers were out. Wine was out. He could do chocolate, yeah. Would've thought about it anyway, of course. She'd just accelerated that particular mental process.


"Must be a special girl."

"Yeah," he said absently. How was a bloke supposed to figure out what kind of chocolate to get? He hadn't expected there to be so many. Would Buffy want almonds, hazelnut, raspberry? Some of the chocolates even had numbers on them, percentages. Too bloody complicated if you asked him.

He could feel the shop girl's eyes watching him. God, why were these places always run by bloody women? Not that he minded the view, but men weren't half this chatty. Sure, Spike was known for bein' a bit too fond of running his mouth, but why the bloody hell was every bird in LA dead set on the details of his personal life? Like being stalked by the bloody Sun.

"So you gonna write her a poem to go with this? You don't look like the type," the girl said.

"For your information, I happen to write very decent—"

He paused. The girl looked like she was about to burst like a dam. She tried to hide her sniffles behind a hand.

Oh, bugger.

She favored the Slayer a bit, but without the violent grace that made her so…well, dangerous. Like Buffy if she was really only Buffy.

"Hey," he said, in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

The girl angrily wiped away a tear. "You're all the same. You just…suck the life out of us, make yourself look better than you are so you can eat us up."

"That's truer than you realize, love."

"So what's different about this girl, then?" she demanded. "Perfect boobs? Easy? A redhead?"

He chuckled. "None of the above."

She didn't look terribly convinced.

"Look," Spike said. "This woman is more than that, all right? She's a bleedin' fantasy, and I don't mean that in a purely physical way. She knows things, feels 'em right in her soul. Can stare right through you, feel what you're feeling. And god, talk about selfless. She lit'rally gives her life away for humans, the whole ungrateful lot of 'em. Don't get it much, personally, but it gives you faith, right?"

He didn't even realize that he was almost bouncing with nervous energy. His mouth was running, but he just couldn't stop the flow of words.

"An'…an' she makes a bloke feel like he could be more, could be better. Can't say as I've always been the most upright of folks, and 'm not ashamed of it, but she makes me feel…well, like I should be, innit. To top it all off, she's the strongest person I know in every sort of way. Carries the pressure that would kill a dozen lessers."

Spike nearly had to bite his lip to make himself end there.

"What's her name?" the girl asked grudgingly. Her eyes were focused just next to him, as if she were trying to picture this fantasy woman. At least she'd stopped crying.

He tried to hesitate. "Buffy."

Would have been poetic to say that it was a sudden revelation, like a brick wall crashing in on him or window blinds opening to reveal the daylight. It wasn't like that at all.

It was more like getting drunk. Not intentionally, just boozin' with a few mates. He knew with each sip he'd be getting drunker and drunker, but he could avoid thinking of it until he bloody well fell over.

Er, fell over emotionally, in this case.

"Dumb name," the girl said, and it took him a second to remember what she was even talking about.

"It is," he agreed dully, still too lost in his own emotions to give much thought to anybody else. "But damn, I love her anyway."

Dru was never gonna let him hear the end of this.


End Notes: Sorry it took so long for this update!