A Certian Level of Trush: Part 8
by Theory Queen
Buffy walked the rest of the way to the Bronze, trying to ignore her jitters. She felt that she had a greater understanding with Spike after spending the afternoon with him, but she felt as nervous as if she were going on a first date! Telling herself that was silly, she looked down at her outfit and gave a mental shrug. She had even dressed as if it were a first date!

Spike was waiting for her when she got to the Bronze, sitting at a table near the door. He stood stiffly when she walked over, and pulled out a chair for her. Surprised, Buffy sat down. "Hi," she said, menatally kicking herself for not coming up with a better greeting. He sat back down and looked away. "'Allo," he said.

There was a long pause, during which he looked at her, saw she was looking at him, and they both looked away hurriedly. "I -uh, like your outfit," Buffy finally offered. And indeed he did look good. He had changed out of his perennial favorite black jeans and combat boots, into a dark green shirt, blue jeans and casual shoes. He hadn't even worn his customary black leather trenchcoat.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, I was trying to impress you, you see, with my terrific sense of fashion." Without thinking, Buffy laughed out loud. He grinned at her then, and began to relax. "You look really good," he said, eyeing her slight frame encased in a dark blue miniskirt and pale yellow, low cut top. His eyes traveled down her legs and took in the high black boots with the big clunky soles, and he had a momentary flashback to one time she had buried that boot-heel in his stomach. He took an involuntary breath, and she smiled, thinking his gasp was for her benefit.

Buffy shook her head. "Isn't this weird? Only a few months ago we were trying to kill each other, and now here we are at the Bronze, just like we were out on a --"

"--date?" he finished. He chuckled ruefully. "Tell me, slayer, did you have first-date jitters, too?"

"Butterflies," Buffy informed him, "filled my stomach all the way over here."

Spike could have kicked himself for feeling relief over this. What in hell was he doing, flirting? His afternoon of brooding hadn't given him any enlightenment, except that perhaps he had spent too many decades with Dru, and now he was crazy too. He'd have to be crazy, to be falling for the slayer -- which, he now had to admit, he was starting to.

For her part, Buffy was mostly just nervous. It had been disconcerting to wake and find Spike in her bedroom, especially after the dreams she had been having about him. Then, Giles' telling about the prophesy, and the afternoon she had spent with Spike -- she felt as if, in three days, her life had become totally wrapped up in his, and she felt overwhelmed. It was not an unpleasant feeling, though. She had to admit that if Spike weren't a vampire, the two of them would really have a lot on common. And -- she thought she was crazy by now -- he really was an attractive guy. Hey, she told herself, if she had to have a mortal enemy, she deserved to have one as good-looking as Spike!

Buffy realized he had been talking while she mused. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, can I get you something, luv? Mocha? Cafe au lait?" He was on his feet already.

"Cappucino?" Buffy requested. He nodded and went off in search of caffeinated beverages. She watched him walk toward the counter, with his usual bit of a swagger. He walks as if he knows how hot he is, she thought. Oh, god, what on earth? Spike? Hot? Buffy blushed and became suddenly interested in the game of pool on the other side of the room.

Spike came back with two cups, and noticed her agitation. "What's wrong, pet?" he asked, handing her a cappucino. He took a sip of his espresso, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, nothing. Um, Spike, why are we doing this?" Buffy asked bluntly. He cocked his head questioningly. "I mean, according to the prophesy, we just have to sleep together -- in the same bed, I mean -- and then everything will be hunky-dory. Why the whole 'date' charade?"

Spike kept his face expressionless so the disappointment wouldn't show. "I wasn't aware that it was a charade, slayer," he said flatly. "Your long-winded Watcher explained it; weren't you listening? The whole point is for us to learn to trust each other. I don't think falling into the sack would quite do it, even if we don't do anything once we're there. We have to spend time together, get to know each other on some other level than just punching the Spike, you know. That's the only way it's going to work."

Buffy dropped her eyes. "But I don't know -- "

Spike interrupted. "Slayer, listen to me. We know nothing about this person coming after all of us. If we have to trust each other to live, then we have to. Do you think I'm not concerned about you staking me in my sleep? Well, I am, but I'm willing to risk it to prove to you that I'm not going to wait till you fall asleep and then kill you. That's what trust is, little girl. It's sort of like having faith in someone. Ever done that before?"

Buffy listened to his tirade with rising anger. How dare he lecture her on the milk of human goodness? He was the demon here, after all. She got up and walked out, heading for the ladies' room.

Spike cursed himself. Why couldn't he keep his blooming mouth shut? Smart, ol' Spikey boy, good going, to piss off the slayer and then expect her to not kill him. He resolved not to sleep that night, and thanked whatever looks after vampires that he had gotten an espresso! He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes, discouraged.

Buffy went into the restroom, checked to see no one else was in there, and kicked the tile wall as hard as she could. She broke several tiles, and the noise of them shattering broke her bad mood. She surrupticiously kicked the pieces into a corner and leaned down on the counter. What on earth was she doing? Spike was absolutely right. They had to trust each other, and she was doing a very poor job of it so far. And he might be a demon, but the person inside was probably much more mature than she was. She looked at herself in the mirror, checked her makeup and hair, and went back out, prepared for whatever the night might bring.

She saw Spike leaning on his arms, looking dejected. She went over to him and touched his shoulder lightly. He looked up, startled. He started to speak, but she touched his lips gently. "Spike, I'm sorry. You were right. Can we maybe, um, sort of start over?"

Spike's lips curved under her fingers. "I'm not buying you another coffee. You didn't even touch the first one," he teased, filled with relief.

Buffy smiled. "I don't want another coffee. Just another chance."

"No coffee? How about a dance?" he offered.

Halfway through, she leaned closer to him with a smile. "I have to admit, you're a better dancer than Xander!"

"Oh, isn't he that kid who's just a spaz on the dance floor? I believe you're right," he replied. To his pleased surprise, Buffy stayed leaning close to him. He put his other arm around her and held her a little closer.


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