Demons and Souls: Party Games and Fireworks
by Sibling
Willow had slipped up by mentioning Buffy's birthday party to Spike. Of course, she had made one of her patented "Oops, is that my foot in my mouth?" faces, and tried to pretend that nothing had happened. They both knew that Buffy didn't want him showing up at her house under any circumstances, much less on a happy occasion. Still, now he could honestly tell Buffy that he'd heard about the party from someone other than Tara.
He still wasn't completely sure that going to Buffy's party was the best idea in the world. All the things that went bump in the night seemed to get extra frisky right around January 19th, and he was somehow sure that this year would be no exception. Still, it might be good for a laugh. He could still cadge free beers by telling the story of Rupert Giles, the tweed-clad, nose-glued-to-a-book Watcher, being turned into a grunting, muscle-bound Fyarl demon by Ethan Rayne. By the time he ended that story, a whole pub full of demons and vampires was usually rolling on the floor with laughter . . . which often made it easier to make off with certain small valuables.
Bringing Clem with him, though . . . that had been a stroke of genius. The wrinkly-skinned Nablith was one of Spike's few demon acquaintances who didn't resent his current alliance with the Slayer. Nabliths were a relatively quiet species who kept to themselves and didn't usually attract the attention of human do-gooders like Buffy. Their inhuman appearance (and their dietary requirements) kept them restricted pretty much to demon society, but given a chance, they could act more like a human than some vampires . . . or Anya, for that matter, he thought with a grin.
And Buffy still had that Watchers' Council-instilled mindset, "demons = evil". If he could get her to accept that a demon could be a decent person -- well, being, at any rate -- maybe he could convince her a demon could love, too.
And then all his fine plans went right out of his head, as soon as he walked into the kitchen.
It figured. The Scoobies were trying to set Buffy up with a nice, normal guy. From the general aura of loser-ness around him, he was probably one of Xander's friends. Granted, he didn't seem to have a stick up his arse like Captain Cardboard, but please! This wanker was dumber than Angel and Riley put together! And he looked like a puppy dog, sniffing around the Slayer like he didn't know whether to shake her hand, lick her face, or pee on her leg.
But she was paying attention to him, like he was a man and not a walking meatball sandwich!
Then Tara had to stick her two cents in, pretending to ask him and Clem about Dick -- er, Richard -- being "cute." Spike wanted to puke. When Clem said, "I thought he was cute," it was all Spike could do to keep from kicking his elephantiatic butt out the door. Instead, he glared over at Tara.
Then he smiled wickedly. "He's not the only cute one, ducks. You're looking very fetching this evening. And is that a new frock I see?" He looked the young witch up and down appreciatively, grinning at her embarrassed blush, and picked up a paper cup from the table. "I'll bet you anything Little Red's all dolled up as well, and just waiting for you to bring her some punch." He handed her the cup, and snorted when she almost dropped it. Then he made a deliberate effort to make his smile more friendly and less predatory. "I was playing this game a century before you were even born, Glinda. Don't even go there."
But although Tara beat a hasty retreat into the next room, Spike was sure he'd seen a glimmer of challenge in the witch's eyes before she left. Oh well, he thought, if she wants to play with the nasty fire, she can't complain if her fingers get a little toasted. Then he put his arm around Clem and led him into the Summers' living room. He couldn't wait to see the Whelp's face when Clem asked for anchovies and inchworms on his pizza.
Tara was enjoying the party immensely. She still got that nervous, fluttery feeling in her stomach whenever she found herself face-to-face with Willow, but it felt surprisingly comfortable being back together with the rest of the Scoobies, and she realized that she'd missed all of them terribly. And then, of all things, Anya had made a perfunctory compliment about Tara's necklace, and then calmly stated that everyone thought that the Scooby meetings at the Magic Box weren't the same without her. For Anya, that probably counts as CIA-class subtlety, Tara thought, but it was nice to know that she'd been missed.
Then Spike caught her eye, and nodded his head toward the hallway where Buffy was standing. She got the message immediately: he was going to make contact with Buffy, and she was supposed to check out Buffy's aura. She took a deep breath, and opened herself to the Sight.
It was a bit dizzying, seeing all the energy dancing around the room. Auras flowed and curled around each other, their owners' emotions driving them into ever-changing patterns. Dawn's bright, happy emerald green flickered along the edges of Xander's warm brown as they talked about some movie they had seen. Willow's strawberry red, somewhat dimmer than Tara remembered it, glowed like embers in a fireplace as she engaged Spike's friend in a conversation about his people. Clem's aura, surprisingly, was not the blood red or night-black of most demons, but olive-green, with swirls of the same earthy tones as Xander's. She made a mental note to ask Spike about him later.
Spike, she thought. Gotta keep my mind on business. She followed the vampire, whose aura was bright red with tinges of violet, toward the entrance to the hallway. There she tried to remain unobserved while Spike approached his reluctant lover.
When Willow had told Tara about Buffy two years ago, she been very frightened at the prospect of meeting her. She had still thought she was part-demon at the time, and her books had described Slayers as focused, fanatical demon killers. But trusting Willow's glowing descriptions over dusty tomes, she had resolved to meet the current Slayer, and to her surprise she had found herself instantly drawn to Buffy's bravery and compassion. Her aura had matched her personality, enveloping the petite blonde like a bright gold corona.
As she peered into the hallway, Tara could see, to her dismay, that the energy surrounding Buffy had faded to a sullen orange, barely flickering above the surface of her skin. As Spike approached, though, it began growing bigger and brighter as it stretched toward the vampire, like a furnace being stoked. And when they touched-
God!
She had been expecting something to happen, but nothing had prepared her for the sudden bright flare that filled the hallway. Buffy's and Spike's auras merged, swelled to several times their size, and then flashed through several rainbow hues before settling into a rosy gold that surrounded the couple in a warm glow, reminding Tara of postcards with romantic couples walking along a beach at sunset.
Unfortunately, Spike was ruining the picture by guiding Buffy's trembling hand along his denim pant leg. Having seen more than enough, Tara cleared her throat, and the two hastily pulled apart.
Their auras began sputtering their way back towards their normal configurations as soon as they broke contact. Buffy hurried off, but to Tara's surprise, Spike just stood there, looking like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And then he made some lame excuse about Buffy helping him with a cramp!
"A cramp?" she asked, arching one eyebrow. "In your pants?"
"It's a thing!" Spike snapped. Tara had to smother a chuckle as she headed for the empty dining room to digest what she had seen. She was not going to let him forget that anytime soon.
I don't believe I let that crystal-gazer get the better of me earlier, Spike thought. Plays a pretty good game of poker, though.
As it got towards what some of his human friends called "oh-late-hundred," those party guests who remained awake had settled into two groups playing games: Buffy, Dawn, Anya, and the Git -- Spike refused to even think his name -- played Monopoly while Clem, Xander, Tara, and himself played poker. He'd expected to be splitting all the money with his demon companion in no time, but Tara proved to be pretty good at keeping a poker face, and even Xander had managed to bluff him a couple of times.
But in the long run, no one does deadpan better than the dead. Spike began collecting pots slowly but steadily, and his mood began improving. This night's take would keep him in blood and smokes for a week or two.
His good mood didn't last long, though. When the Puppy suggested calling it a night, and Dawn brightly suggested a sleepover, he let himself make a naughty comment to Buffy, just to see her beautiful face flush . . . only to be tagged again by Tara about that stupid cramp remark!
Even worse, he was pretty much unable to return fire at the time, since Willow had done her usual early face-down crash. The recovering witch was many things, but a night owl was not one of them. So he pushed a bill over to Tara's pile, silently adding One point for you, girl. But the game's not over yet.
By morning, though, teasing Tara was the last thing on his mind.
By the time the vengeance demon that Anya called Halfrek showed up, Buffy's mind was reeling from everything that had been going on at her party.
Just for once, can't I have a birthday that isn't a red-letter day on the Hellmouth calendar? she said to herself. And do you want some cheese to go with that whine? another part of her brain answered. It had all happened before, and she was sure it would happen again. She should just get used to associating major trauma with getting older.
But even so, she was really wigged when, as Halfrek seemed to recognize Spike, she had had a vision. As she called him "William," she could have sworn she saw another face appear over the demonic visage. A human woman's face, with the dark, curly hair gathered up on top of her head.
Then she blinked, and the vision -- Hallucination? Maybe brought on by stress and lack of sleep? -- was gone.
As Spike walked out the Summers' door into the night air, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he snuck a peek back at the Slayer and her sister, and felt a smile appear as Buffy shut herself in, obviously ready to work things out with Dawn. He was happy for the Slayer and the Niblet, who had impressed even him with the amount of stuff she had nicked.
Then he had an idea. Maybe he could convince Buffy to put all that youthful energy and dexterity to work on self-defense training. Buffy knew better than to think a teenage girl was going to stay in all the time -- she herself had been ample proof of that. Dawn was going to get out by herself sooner or later, so she might as well be able to take care of herself. And nothing settled Buffy down like a good sparring session. Maybe . . .
Then he saw the two witches in front of him, walking side-by-side and obliviously looking up at the stars, and he smiled wickedly. Pretending not to see them, he strolled past them and elbowed Willow just hard enough to send her careening into Tara.
Tara automatically caught Willow as she stumbled, and before she knew it she was lost in her sea-green gaze.
They stood there, staring into each other's eyes, for a long minute. Then they found themselves embracing, and Tara felt Willow weeping into her shoulder.
"I miss you so much," the redhead babbled. "I know that I hurt you, and I can't make it up to you, but without you I feel like I'm half-dead inside. I feel like I know what Buffy lost, when we pulled her out of Heaven, like this wonderful, beautiful thing was ripped away from me, only it's worse, 'cause I know it's my own fault that I lost it, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you . . . "
Tara bit her lip as her own eyes filled with tears. She wasn't ready to resume a full-time relationship with Willow, and vice-versa, and they both knew it. But still . . . She had seen that Willow was trying desperately to turn herself around. And, as angry and hurt as she had been at Willow -- as she still was, sometimes -- it hurt her just as much to see her in pain and to not do something to help her. And so she had stood up for Willow when Anya and Xander were trying to make her use her magic again. She had stood up for Willow . . . the way that Willow had stood up for her, last year, when Tara had cast a spell that went dreadfully wrong.
Tara realized that she had an opportunity now. If she let it go, she didn't know when, or if, another one would come along.
She stroked Willow's hair, and murmured to her softly until she stopped crying, and then she said, "Will? W-w-would you l-like to g-g-go somewhere and . . . . talk?"
And she felt herself break out in a huge smile as Willow looked up at her and said, "I'd love to."
Spike, having watched all this from a distance, grinned to himself as he went off to see what other mischief he could get into on this fine night.
Point and Game, luv!
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