Title: Open All Night Author: kindred Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns these characters lock, stock and profitable barrel. Rating: NC-17 Feedback: Yes, please! I am happy to receive it. Summary: Sequel to "No Vacancy". It takes place in S3 in Sunnydale. Have-itch-will-travel Spike visits Buffy...they enjoy an entrée of truth, but it comes with a side order of consequences. 12. Impeccable timing can be a beautiful thing. Spike winced as he recognized Buffy, none too happy to have her witness his current predicament. Although, the deer caught in the headlights look on Angel's face was well worth the price of admission. Spike was a gambling man and the odds of surviving the evening looked pretty favorable at the moment. Buffy stood in a haughty pose, fists tight to her sides, bristling with agitation. She wasn't impressed at the spectacle before her, nor the preposterous words she had heard, still echoing in her ears. Both vampires displayed injuries. Angel's cheek was bloodied and his knuckles battered. Spike looked the worse for it with a swollen eye, a gash on his cheek, what looked like crushed bones in his hand and most likely broken ribs. He sat in a crouched position up against the stone wall. She'd heard him mouthing off pretty forcefully, so she figured he wasn't too badly injured. "Buffy--" Angel pivoted quickly, surprised by her sudden appearance. His facial features convulsed reflexively as he tried unsuccessfully to force the grim reaper expression from his face. Spike shifted sideways to get that much further away from Angel. Punching bag was never one of Spike's favored roles. He licked blood from his upper lip, unable for the time being to move from his knees. Buffy recognized the look of masked pain on his features. Despite his bravado, Spike was hurting. "Very nice Angel," Buffy praised with calculated sarcasm. "Very mature and soul worthy behavior." "That's Spike, Buffy." Angel spoke through clenched teeth as the scent of Spike radiating off of Buffy broke like a wave and silently singed his nostrils. "Oh, I know Angel, and I know how much fun it is to reduce him to a spongy paste--" "Oi!" Spike protested strongly. "Open all night agony here, Slayer." "Shut up, Spike." There was little sting in that rebuke; Buffy's sting was reserved for Angel. "He's feeding," Angel spoke up defensively, hoping that an emphasis on Spike's activities would shift Buffy's pissed off expression from its current focus. "Killing." "Bloody hell! That guy is alive. How many times--" "What part of 'shut up' is the problem for you?" Buffy glanced briefly at Spike and returned her gaze to Angel. She was more angry with him and his outrageous presumptions. All she could think was that Angel thought of her as his property. At some fundamental level he viewed her as an object for him to possess. This was going to stop tonight. Buffy couldn't believe she'd let it linger this long. Angel couldn't or wouldn't end it and she'd been a fool to think otherwise. Despite the anger rising within her, Buffy managed to keep her conversation calm and on target. "You said you wanted me free to live my life, Angel." "Spike is not your life." "Don't change the subject," Buffy's lips contracted into a knot. Angel was so good at controlling the course of conversations. Buffy plowed onward. She wasn't going to be deterred. "Was it a lie? Hmm? Or does your plan for me include a long list of exceptions. Maybe you should give me the rule book so I can study up on how to live up to your expectations. Or maybe you do want me in a nice sterile terrarium where you can feed me lettuce leaves." Her clipped words, brittle and precise, rattled toward him like bullets. Angel wavered uneasily on his feet. "No. Um, I-- Buffy-- It's just--" Angel sputtered, his easy way with words abandoning him. Images of Spike and Buffy drifted in to his mind, naked limbs, writhing bodies and one hateful, horrible word: consensual. Focusing on that unhelpful image caused his speech to stumble. Forcing his thoughts toward Spike alone, however, managed to clear out the cobwebs. "THAT IS A MONSTER." The words stabbed the air as Angel's finger stabbed in Spike's direction. "RABID...SOULLESS...DEMON..." His eyes flared wildly as he struggled to make his point with the right words. Spike spoke up quietly in the voice of a true agitator. "Yeah, that seems to be going around. Tell me the truth, have you quite recovered from your recent nasty bout of Angelusness? Hmm?" "Stop it!" Buffy winced and brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Another headache crowded into her skull, right on schedule. "You're making my head hurt." "See what you've done, you moron?" Angel accused. "Me? You're the one who's over the edge, mate. Screaming up a bloody storm--" "SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU! You're BOTH giving me a headache." Buffy folded her arms, bunching up her warm coat as the chill of the night air suddenly made its presence known. Angel blinked slowly looking from Spike to Buffy and back again. He could feel it. There was something in the air resonating between these two. His desperate attempts at denial evaporated to dust. "Buffy. How could you-- I mean-- How could you?" There was no use denying anything. Buffy knew enough about the accuracy of a vampire's sense of smell to know that the cat was not only out of the bag, the bag itself was now a small pile of shredded fibers. Angel probably knew she'd changed her brand of dental floss as well. She let out a labored sigh. "It just sorta happened." There was the impulsive verbal shrug of teenaged ambiguity when faced with the sting of authority. She wasn't trying to be cute or make excuses. It really wasn't any of Angel's business. Buffy regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. Why did she need to justify anything to him? "WHAT?! Just sorta happened? What the HELL does that mean?" Angel shook his head trying to realign his thoughts. This was Buffy: sweet, innocent Buffy, midnight kisses Buffy, ice cream cones and coffee for two Buffy. Not fucks Spike Buffy. A shudder of revulsion slithered down Angel's spine. Buffy looked into Angel's face, ashen now with the unwelcome and repulsive news. Icy fingers gripped her stomach. She felt the familiar pang of judgment. What the hell did he want from her? Angel kept talking about making a break, starting fresh yet he stayed in town; another unwanted albatross around her neck. Buffy opened her mouth to speak and shut it again. She didn't want to blurt something out in haste. Why was she even rationalizing herself to Angel in the first place? Angel took it as a sign of regret. He could still save her, from herself if need be. The corner of Buffy's mouth quirked imperceptibly. Spike saw her subtle reaction as well. Was that regret? More icy fingers gripped his stomach, wringing it with a muscular twist and signaling the return of an all too familiar dull ache. An Angelus initiated dull ache. "Just what I said," Buffy raised her chin with defiance. "It happened." "What the hell were you thinking? No, you couldn't have been thinking. How could you..." Angel's eyes darted about, searching for the least offensive phrasing. Spike added the unnecessary completion of Angel's thought. "The words you're reaching for, your Peachness, are 'fuck Spike'." "Spike--" Buffy was interrupted by a soft and deadly voice. "I should have dusted you the first time I laid my eyes on you." Angel's eyes glowed with an unearthly flame. Buffy continued speaking. It was better to ignore the testosterone cinders flaring up again. "It's my life, Angel. I don't see how this is any of your business." "Spike IS my business. I've cleaned up his messes more times than I care to remember." That didn't go over very well. Buffy's eyes went cold. She was a mess to be cleaned up? "Don't do me any favors." Spike snarled sourly from his crouched position. Never much of a talker, Angel's tongue was finally loosened. He released a weighted and bitter sigh. "It's true...you really...fucked him." An unrepentant Buffy faced his look of blistering disappointment. At that moment Angel's condescension infuriated her. "Yeah, so what?" "So what?" Angel's mouth twisted. Who was this girl and what had she done with his Buffy? "Spike's a killer. He'll turn on you Buffy, it's what he does." "HEY!" Spike roared a dry cough. "You don't know the first fuckin' thing about me anymore." "You're a vampire Spike. A demon. That's all I need to know." Angel's dismissive tone always fueled Spike's defiance. "Et tu, Nancy?" Spike looked up at Angel with a face full of false sweetness. "That does it," with a snarl Angel advanced, ready to finish it for good. Buffy stepped sideways and blocked his access to Spike. Angel stopped and looked at her with stunned disbelief. "Buffy?" "No." She shielded Spike from Angel's simmering wrath. This maneuver wasn't lost on Spike either. Kick the Spike was over. "You'd protect him...from me?" An incredulous eyelash flutter. "You do still believe in the eradication of evil, right? Or is this some weird parallel dimension where Spike merits your time and consideration?" "This isn't about Spike, Angel." "Oh yeah? What, you been fucking some other demons too?" The explosive smack of Buffy's palm to Angel's cheek reverberated through he quiet night. He shook off that blow as regret for his ugly, impulsive statement sunk in. "That was brilliant!" Spike cheered from the sidelines. "Smack 'im again, Slayer!" Buffy blinked slowly and cleared her throat. "Shut up, Spike." Why did that suddenly seem to be her mantra? She continued speaking, her voice clear and firm. "I already have a father to look at me with disapproval, Angel. I DON'T need it from you." Was that all she saw? Clearly he wasn't saying things correctly. It was Spike's fault. His presence alone threw Angel's game plan into flux. Plus, Buffy wasn't thinking straight. This was just stick in the mud adolescent rebellion. She was supposed to go for a normal guy. The quarterback or president of the student council or even some harmless dweeb from the chess club; that's what Angel wanted for her, somebody human and warm. Somebody with a heartbeat and a future. Not another vampire. Not a demon. And certainly not Spike. Spike was dangerous. Angel knew just how dangerous Spike could be. After all, Angelus had taken precise steps to ensure that Spike would be just as warped and depraved as he was. "Buffy, you're not--" His arrogance was really too much. Buffy interrupted quickly. "We're not together Angel, your choice, remember?" Her words vibrated with anger. Angel stared at her. "And still you have this whole list of rules and regulations set out for me that determine the way I'm supposed to live my life? How extra oppressive of you. Lucky me." The sarcasm cut deeply. Angel changed his tack, back to smooth sugar daddy. "I care for you Buffy." His voice hit her like a fist. "I care what happens to you." His concern met only a steely gaze. "Okay. Let's get real clear about that one, Angel." Buffy spoke in tones of a somber confession. "Death is what's coming for me. I've got a long list of previously dead slayers to confirm that destination." Spike looked upon the spectacle with interest. He knew this slayer had grit and nerve. It made him proud to see her putting the screws to Angel, and about bloody time too. "Buffy--" Angel persisted but she plowed on, ignoring his argument. "I've got this huge weight looming on me and you're actually trying to tell me how to balance it and tap dance at the same time? Take a number, Angel. I've got my parents, Giles, Principal Snyder and my friends. Why not one more person who knows better than me how I should live my life." "I love you Buffy." Blunt force trauma in four words. She looked implacable, but her edges were wavering. He offered her the lost puppy look. Of all the roles Angel had played out in his long, long life, abandoned puppy was among the most effective and least believable. It used to work like a charm. She snickered dryly to try to control her mounting rage. "You love me." The words were flat and dead on her tongue. "Good justification, Angel. That's great. Go ahead and love me. Bully for you." It was a manipulation, pure and simple. Coercion. How could she have not seen it? He pulled her every which way as if she did have a leash and the worst thing was knowing that she had let him. Angel may truly believe that what he felt was love, but for Buffy it looked like control and it felt like control, and she was nobody's puppet. She turned toward Spike only to have Angel draw near and grab her elbow. "Spike will never love you." There was a measure of desperation in his words and a touch of cruelty. "Get your stinking paws off of her, you bloody great lout!" Spike's tongue still had the strength to defend. Buffy looked blankly into Angel's eyes and struck her own devastating blow. "Love is highly overrated." Buffy pulled her arm decisively from Angel's grasp. She was through living in a hermetically sealed fantasy bubble on Angel's shelf. This was her life. Her decisions. Her mistakes. She stopped believing in fairy tales and knights on white horses a while back. She didn't need Angel to protect her or blow her nose or give her his blessing. She didn't need Angel, period. Romance with a capital R totally sucked. Star-crossed lovers never fared well. It made for an okay Leonardo DiCaprio movie -- maybe -- but in real life? No thanks. Buffy put away those silly fantasies. Wishing on stars and rainbows didn't alter her reality, or her expiry date. Real life was harder, but it had greater depth and texture than any of her anemic fantasies ever had. For good or ill she was going to choose real life now and leave those girlish fancies behind. "You don't mean that." Confusion spread on Angel's face. Spike looked upon him with incredulity. Angelus was often blind to exactly what was in front of his face. Did he even know this girl at all? If he'd paid attention, Angel would have known that the anachronistic father knows best attitude wasn't going to wash with this one. Spike knew she wasn't a child to be told what to do, not by a long shot. Frustration broke through Buffy's demeanor. "Angel! Sometimes I feel like we've never even met. I would have preferred you never found out about Spike and me but that's not an option now and contrary to what you may think this is MY BUSINESS -- MINE. Not yours. So, I fucked Spike. Yep, I did that. Me. St. Buffy. And if I want to fuck Spike again then I'll bloody well do it." That sentence got Spike's full attention. That's the Slayer he knew, coming out swinging, jumping off into the unknown. Buffy was beyond caring at this point. She wasn't going to live her life according to anyone's dictates, Angel included. He glared at her in shock. "What? You're going to look at me like I'm Buffy the Wonder Slut now?" Her body practically crackled with frustration and anger. "I can see it in your eyes, Angel. Disappointment. Well you can forget it. You be all broody. I can't live on your pedestal anymore and I won't. It's not my sacred duty to make you content or less gloomy or anything. It's hard enough making it through to dinner most days." "Buffy, please--" Spike never imagined he'd hear a voice like that come from the throat of his grandsire. It was small and pleading. Pathetic. "Angel, I'm not having this conversation. I don't need to justify or explain myself to you or anyone. Spike, can you walk?" Spike lurched to his feet with a groan and the clicking, painful sound of shifting bones. "I'll bloody well walk away from this fucker." "Then do it," she rasped. "Just get out of here." Spike took the opportunity offered. He staggered away through the trees. Buffy turned toward Angel once more. "Don't follow him and DON'T take this out on him." Mercy for Spike? "What's happened to you Buffy?" Angel whispered, unsure whether he wanted the answer. Almost at tears Buffy let out a bitter laughing gasp. "How dare you ask me that. I sent you to hell Angel, remember? I wandered through the wilderness and was nearly killed because I thought it was preferable to the pain of losing you. Then you come back and it's been all hugs and puppies since." Her voice soured and quickened. "You're gone, you're back. We're together, we're not. I can't take it. I can't adjust. I haven't had a couple of centuries to figure things out and get perspective. I am not so resilient. I can't have this in my head any more." She wasn't the golden princess Angel loved, nor was he the enchanted boy she could free with that perfect kiss. They were poison to each other. Angel took a step toward her. This would be the part where they hugged and reconciled. They'd done it before. He could be her Prince Charming again. He could make Spike go away and it would all be better. "Don't say that," his voice soothed as he attempted to embrace her. "Let's go back to the mansion and talk about this." Buffy growled in exasperation and broke away. "ANGEL! STOP IT! Are you even listening? Have you heard anything I've said?" Buffy looked up at Angel with a defiant gaze. "You've told me there's no future for us so many times and now you're...what? Shocked that I actually believe it?" "And you think there's a future with Spike?" Angel chuckled darkly. The sound caused the hairs to rise at the base of Buffy's skull. "Think again little girl." "Maybe Spike can't give me what I need, but that's for me to find out." Buffy steeled her voice. "And I'm going to find out, believe me. I'm gonna live my life for me." "Don't be a fool, Buffy. You think you can be..." Angel struggled for the contemporary euphemism, "...fuck buddies with him? Make him mind his Ps and Qs? Clean him up for dinner with mom?" His dismissive tone of voice chilled her to the bone. The last time she'd heard that mocking derision, Angelus was in the driver's seat. "It'll never happen. I know this. I know him. He's an animal. Spike's a killer, through and through." Angel had dealt with obstinate children before, he knew he was right. She'd see. "Yeah," she said blankly, extinguishing the verbal accelerant Angel lobbed at her with her next sentence. "I can see the family resemblance." It was an unexpected final comeback. Buffy didn't rise to his bait. The argument died instantly. Bile foamed at the back of Buffy's throat. She was going to be sick. Buffy hadn't realized the depth of anger that had been churning inside her, anger and bitterness and the withering yoke of guilt. The truth of the moment hit her with stark clarity. There was nowhere left to go but here. This was good-bye. There was no immediate feeling of loss or torment, only an empty place. Buffy wanted it done and over with. This had nothing to do with Spike, either. She knew she couldn't fix Angel and that she no longer cared to try. It was a hard and stunning truth. Turning sharply on her heel, Buffy stumbled beyond a clump of shrubs and then her legs answered the call of her heart. The pavement beat an accelerating pace beneath her boots. Cool, clear night air fought its way through her constricted throat to her lungs. Ever deepening inhalations eventually quieted the nausea boiling within her gut. Only when she was beyond the city limits did she slow down, eventually falling in a heap on the sand. That's when the tears arrived, heavy and potent with sorrow. tbc...