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. 4. "Giles sure was research light today, huh Buff?" Willow hitched her backpack straps on her thumbs and fell into step beside Buffy. The girls walked down the quiet after school halls of Sunnydale High. It was the truth. Xander read an issue of 'Hot Rod' magazine, Cordelia applied three coats of nail polish and top coat and Willow started to research her history essay; a decidedly non supernatural examination of the political realities of the Roman Empire. Buffy nodded dutifully while Giles expounded on his latest breakthrough in the translation of some smelly scrolls. Mystical anagrams really did it for Giles. Three cheers for gray matter! Excited Giles was a nice change from grumpy and exasperated Giles or my-jugular's-about-to-blow Giles. It was nice and normal, but without looming death and destruction it was a bit uneventful. Nodding, however, was a given when interacting with Giles. Eye contact too, Giles was a stickler for eye contact. Just at the point her weighted eyelids began to droop, Buffy summoned her superhuman powers of concentration. Giles closed his notes with a flourish, sighed with satisfaction and then scurried into his office to make himself a cuppa. Yep, pretty much a non eventful, non debriefing of the team. "Well, there's always a lull after a Big Bad goes boom, or poof--" Buffy knit her brows together. Her last adversary was more squishy than solid. Maybe that was what Giles had been talking about, the goopy guy -- SpongeBob DemonPants. "It was more I like squlorch!" Willow attempted to imitate the sound the demon made as Buffy ran it through with a detached parking meter. "Ew, don't remind me. I ruined a pair of jeans on that thing." "It didn't come out in the wash?" "I don't think day-glo demon entrails was one of the stains Tide tested for Will. The goopage was detergently resistant." "Oh, I'm sorry about that Buffy. I suppose the whole saving the world side line really does a number on your wardrobe." "Yeah. You'd think the Council would at least spring for a clothing allowance. I'm kinda out there as their representative. You'd think they'd have an interest in me looking my best." What were those Watcher bigwigs thinking? She was like their logo. Lately however, Buffy felt more like monster fodder with a good right hook. How many of her blouses had teeth or claw rips in them now? How many pairs of boots died ignoble deaths in pools of demon fluids? The super hero deal really sucked. There had to be a way she could swing a new wardrobe. The world was worth it. "Hey, you're right," Willow chirped in support. "I'll bet they're not spending the cash on Armani. Giles has what? One tweed suit? Not that you'd need a tweed suit necessarily, because that would be kinda butch, not to mention restrictive in the movement department for slayage and then you know, the hotness issue. Temperature hotness, not hubba-hubba hotness. But it's not like you totally couldn't do justice to tweed, you know, in that way..." Willow's earnest forehead wrinkled. "I'll just stop talking." Buffy smiled kindly. Willow's conversational tempo tended to accelerate of late. The friends made their peace, but at times awkwardness still came between them. Scooby talk always seemed to iron out the more glaring difficulties, like Buffy bailing without so much as a "see ya". Willow knew her friend was fragile now. A total super hero demon nightmare for sure, but still fragile. Nothing was ever said but it was the truth. The whole Angel/Angelus episode had injured Buffy in a way Willow could understand. It was something else they had in common, emotional vulnerability. Willow understood her friend a bit better once that card had been played. Buffy continued with their stream of conversation. "Now Giles is in the no Big Bad on the horizon bubble, so that means--" "Chamomile tea," Willow interrupted with a knowing smile. The girls exited the building and started walking toward the street. "And shortbread biscuits," Buffy continued, "until he double checks his footnotes and slide rule and discovers yet another brewing apocalypse." "Uh huh." "The routine is comforting and yet deeply disturbing." "Mmm hmm," Willow looked absently toward the parking lot. Xander and Cordelia were chatting in a loose cozy embrace. Willow sighed. She wanted a loose cozy embrace; an Oz embrace. Ambition was becoming an unwelcome barrier between them. Apparently being in a band required all sorts of non Willow time commitments: practicing, traveling to gigs, not to mention actually performing. Future stardom was very demanding and oddly annoying. Smoochies were fewer and farther between these days. "Maybe there's some kind of demon college or prep school where they all take apocalypse 101 and then think they can accomplish it, kind of like home ec last semester and the great cupcake disaster." Buffy snorted at the recollection. "Uh-huh." No comprehension from the Willowverse. "Cupcakes are quite diabolical, not unlike apocalypse-es," Buffy wrinkled her forehead. "Apocalypsi? Ees? Will, help me out." She looked at her preoccupied friend. "Yoo hoo, Willow?" "Yeah Buffy, that's right." Willow snapped back and covered badly. Reflexively, she twirled a long lock of hair between her fingers. Buffy looked over and saw Xander and Cordelia holding hands. Stability, devotion and public displays of affection; why the hell did Cordelia Chase of all people merit that little loot bag of snuggly goodness? And with Xander of all people. Xander, who was once a hapless bug wriggling under Cordelia's socially upscale boot. It thoroughly amazed both of them that Xander and Cordelia would be so perfectly suited as a couple. Their effervescent happiness was frequently irritating to others. Especially others who were dealing with frequently absent or totally non-existent boyfriend issues. "Happy couples make me puke." Buffy suddenly realized she said that out loud. Bad form Buffy, she chastised herself internally, be happy for your friends. They're happy, so you be happy. Positive thinking all the way. And the ricochet happy vibes would be arriving...when? Willow blinked nonchalantly. She couldn't begrudge Xander his happiness even if it came in the person of Cordelia and her never ending parade of expensive leather handbags and handbag accessories. "How's things with Oz these days?" Buffy tried to sound neutral. "Great!" That perky outburst didn't even convince Willow. "Okay," she added thoughtfully, "he's busy rehearsing with the band. A lot." "But that's a good thing, right? Success with the band?" Willow nodded as her mind wandered. Of course it was good. The Dingoes were a fabulous band and bound for certain stardom. Oz was just so outrageously attractive he'd be swarmed with groupies everywhere he went. He'd be in constant danger of being suffocated by groupies due to his unrestrained manly magnetism. Oz was an irresistible force of nature, plain and simple. And fame was a hard mistress. Willow had seen "This is Spinal Tap" enough times to know what was what. He was bound for super stardom as the wry and world weary Dingoes' philosopher. Willow would never stand between Oz and his destiny. She'd-- Willow blinked and looked at Buffy, unsure of what had just been said. Oz business occupied a good part of Willow's brain power these days. Perhaps Buffy was unaware that Willow's attention had lapsed. Buffy looked at Willow with an earnest expression that usually meant some reply was going to be required. "Huh?" Willow offered. It seemed like a reasonable response. "You wanna hit the mall for big gulps?" It was a well known fact that beverage consumption alone was a great problem solving tool. Giles had his tea. Joyce had hot chocolate. Xander had this green carbonated crap he swore by but maybe that was more because of the restorative belch afterwards. At any rate, big gulp sippage was calling. Willow shook her head. "I've got that science fair thing, Buff." Willow was an extra credit magnet. "And Oz is coming by later for some cheery escapist video." Her face lit up with hopeful anticipation. "He's bringing something Japanese, so that means either stern faced samurai or big eyed anime." It wouldn't matter as long as Oz was part of the potentially smoochy package. "Sounds fun." "Just patrolling for you, then?" "I guess." "Seeing much of Angel these days?" It wasn't an accusation, just talk. Buffy shook her head. "It's easier that way, less with the gut wrenching pain." She hadn't seen Angel in two weeks, but Giles was keeping tabs on him. "I better go Buffy. I'll see ya." "Yeah Will, bye." Buffy turned and started walking toward the mall. * Buffy approached her house with an anonymous bag chock full of Spike's list of necessary items. She'd need to do some extra reading on the thrall. Spike's opinion that it didn't technically exist wasn't working with Buffy. Her muscular legs hustled her over to the mall and into the Walmart in record time. There was some passing thought of perusing the shoe stores, but with near preternatural acumen Buffy found herself touring the aisles of the pharmacy department with nonchalant aplomb and a metal basket. She passed down the aisles several times, only grabbing items in passing when the coast was clear. Twenty minutes of cashier watching passed before the line dissipated enough for Buffy to strike forth toward the exit. In order to appear casual Buffy grabbed a package of butterscotch candies and an attractive spatula from housewares. She needn't have bothered. The bored cashier only looked for the scanning code of the items she purchased. That was a huge relief as Buffy feared she was giving off creepy sex freak vibes. It was an effort not to look like the naughty girl she felt like inside. It wasn't such a bad feeling, just not one for public consumption. The woman behind the counter handed her the change and the bag of items. On the walk home she found herself swinging her bag of purchases and practically whistling a happy tune. The weekend beckoned and she felt incredible. When had this happened? Whistling was what happy, wandering mountain climbers did. God, was she happy? Her house held a horny vampire who was probably ready to pounce as soon as the door handle turned. Oddly, that didn't seem like such a bad scenario. However, her heart still held a wounded vampire whom she had hurt terribly. That was damage she'd never be able to repair. She wanted something other than pain for herself and Angel. Tossing agonies back and forth like some weird knife throwing act was getting old. They both deserved more than that. Why shouldn't Spike make her feel what Angel could not? She deserved something just for herself. She was the tissue the Council blew their monster nose with. When she was used up they simply reached for another. The future was never bright for the Chosen One. She'd never be married or see kids grow up. That was a truth she could not evade either. So too was the truth that she had needs. Personal needs that demanded satisfaction. Platonic friendships didn't cut it and Xander's constant stream of set up introductions was sweet, but annoying. Chad from the wrestling team may be an All State champion, but she could snap him like a twig. After that night in the motel with Spike, she knew human boys were not going to cut it. She didn't have to be careful with Spike. She didn't love him, so he could never hurt her like Angel did. She didn't hate him any more either. They both got something out of this too. She may not be a femme fatale, but Buffy knew satisfaction and she saw it on Spike's face. It wasn't a trick either, because if he wanted to lull her into a sudden attack he could have already done it. Several times. It didn't matter. Spike was here, in her house and he wanted it. He wanted her. And Buffy wanted him badly. That was her deepest secret now. Buffy no longer fantasized about Angel in that way. It was all Spike, and the dirtier, the better. Buffy quickened her pace as the prospect of the evening ahead of her caught in her throat and beat a thunderous path through her abdomen. She skipped up the front path in a breathless giggle and bounded onto the porch. She felt light and energized and ready to be pounced upon. The only thing that might threaten her good mood was if Spike got a chance to say something unhelpful. She'd have to cover his mouth and stop that from happening. She had those scarves still tied to her bedstead. Oh yeah. That would shut him up in a sexy way. She unlocked the door and jumped inside with an expectant squeak, ready for the pouncing to commence. Nothing. No pounce, no growl, no sexy smirk. No Spike. Her house was as silent as the grave. tbc...