Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer... It belongs to Joss and his minions. And I don't own "Angel" by Ghost of the Robot, which (I believe) was written by James Marsters and that's what gave me the idea for the story. Tell me the coincidence is not eerie.
NOTE: The song that begins this fic is the end of another Ghost of the Robot song, "Mad Brilliant"...which I also don't own
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He closed his eyes as he leaned over the microphone, pulling the stand towards his body. Like in that Billy Joel song, "the microphone smelled like a beer"... Or maybe something stronger... And more tantilizing... But, hell, that was the way he liked everything... Strong, too tantilizing for his own good, destructive, great in bed... Shit, he wasn't describing everything... He was describing her...
"When our lips first met, you didn't get the hang of it..."
He never knew who he'd written that song for. Maybe every innocent girl he'd deflowered. Yeah, when he got through with 'em, those debutant virgins weren't innocent anymore... It was one of his favorite songs. It gave him power, made him feel like the Big Bad he was. The rest of the band was hot tonight. Of course, considering the fact that they were all vampires too, they were about room temperature... The Bronze was pulsating with music and rhythm, like a living thing. He ran his hands over the mic and smiled.
"I bet that you still kiss like me... You realize it when you hear this..."
The band quieted as the song drew to its end and he practically whispered while giving some blonde in the crowd a come-hither stare,
"Realize it when you... kiss..."
They broke before starting the new song. His drummer laughed, having seen the lead singer's eyes on The Blonde in the Crowd.
"Spike and blondes..." He snorted. The others sniggered.
"Sod off, nancy boy..." Spike growled. So he did have a thing for blondes... Wasn't his problem. He'd loved Drusilla and her hair was blacker than midnight, blacker than that dead bird she still hadn't stopped talking to... No, he hadn't truly loved Harmony and she was your classic blonde. But there was a girl in between Spike's-having-to-listen-to-Harmony's-incesent-chatter and Spike's-lusting-after-every-blonde-he-saw. And then, every blonde looked like her... And how could Spike resist anyone who looked remotely like her?
He was ready to saunter down off the stage and commense operation Snogg Said Blonde in the Crowd when a very familiar smell pierced him. She was there... IN there... IN the Bronze! Why did she have to come TONIGHT?! Tonight, of all bloody nights, when he was standing on the stage as so many unknown musicians before him...
"Yo, WILLIAM!"
He turned to face the bass player, who was grinning from ear to ear. "Stalker Spike's time is up... Turn back into Jimmy-Page, Musically-Inclinded Spike..."
The faux-blond vampire sighed and picked up his guitar, which he needed for the next song. That's how they'd rehearsed it. The others would go to the bar, maybe have a bite... while Spike played his little accoustic song... The little accoustic song which was never meant to be heard by the woman who'd just stepped inside. Bloody hell. Of course he tried to reason with the others. Of course they didn't listen. Of course he was left alone on the stage with his guitar and the intoxicating mic. Of course he had to sing the song... (Or this wouldn't be a pointless Spuffy one-shot)
"She comes home to me after hard night's workin'
Falls in my arms and sleeps like a burden
Startled her, she wakes up like she don't know me
Cocks back a fist like she's going to slug me, like...."
He had worked up the courage to look up across the room. Naturally, Buffy hadn't gone deaf in the past twenty-four hours by some miracle(the fates were never on Spike's side...). Her eyes, bright as jade, pierced him, her mouth hanging open a little in complete shock. Damnit, how was it that she looked sexy even when she was repulsed?!
"Who are you anyway... and what are you doing to me?"
She blinked, not quite understanding why he was doing this. Well, if the subject of this song wasn't obvious enough to her yet, he figured he'd just have to spell it out...
"She's an angel but she can't see it
She's got wings... she can't feel 'em
She's an angel but she can't see it
And she's flying above me everyday...
Every day of my life..."
Subject very much identified. She seemed imobilized under the hot lights. He felt the same but his fingers still continued to strum the cords, his lips to form the words he'd written so long ago... Their eyes could not unlock from each other's. Both pairs of searching irises were trapped.
"Bright diamond eyes with daggers beneath them
She carries the chains of a million decisions
That weren't even her's to begin with anyway
But she carries them all... And the people around her
Never even notice that she's very very tired..."
He thought he saw tears in her eyes or was it just the sappiness of the song? What was happening? Just a minute ago, he'd been Stalker Spike, eyeing that Blonde in the Crowd as if she was a slab of meat. Then, he was Jimmy Page Spike, his hands moving expertly over the guitar chords, his mind in tune with the instrument. Now he was... No, don't even say it. Maybe he needed to seek help about his multiple personalities... God, he was being transformed back into that love-sick puppy dog. //Kick me away, pet...// He murmured to her in his mind. //Please, God, kick me away...//
"She's an angel but she can't see it
She's got wings... she can't feel 'em
She's an angel but she can't see it
And she's flying above me everyday...
Every day of my life..."
He finished the song and looked up at her. The vacant air where Buffy had been standing chilled his already-icy heart. He dropped his guitar and stormed off backstage as the teens in the Bronze applauded, slightly confused. He crashed out the backstage door, growling. She never could deal with him, what he'd felt for her... what he still... Damnit. Now it was too late. He was back to Desperately-in-Love-with-Buffy Spike. Damnit. Bloody hell.
"W-was that song for me?"
He whipped around, surprised for all but two seconds. Then, his cool returned and he chuckled.
"No, Love... Actually, it's about Marilyn Monroe... Thought I'd try my hand at a little Elton John there. I knew Marilyn. Sweet girl. Sexy as hell, but troubled..."
"Don't screw around with me, Spike." Her voice was serious and he was surprised for the second time that night. "You've done enough of that..."
He laughed. "Only when you let me, lamb..."
She sighed and scuffed her shoe on the asphalt. "Listen... I want to know... Was it for me?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah! It's not like you were SUPPOSED to hear the song... But yeah! Now, can I please GO?! I need to get really pissed before I die of humiliation..."
Suddenly, a tiny hand was in his and he blinked, very surprised.
"No one's ever... written a song for me before... E-except for this one guy in LA who said he'd put my name in a rap song... But he said nothing rhymes with 'Buffy', so..."
His head tilted a little away from her (as he still wasn't entirely trusting...), Spike set his jaw and whispered,
"Did you like it?"
She smiled. "Yeah... Yeah, I did..."
He closed his hand over hers and slowly, she leaned into him. They walked in silence for some time before she said, so softly he strained to hear,
"Did you really know Marilyn Monroe?"
"No..." He smiled and his eyes locked with hers. "She wasn't my type..."
She seemed to become part of him and she rested her head on his shoulder while their feet picked up the exact same pace. So, he'd put a lid on Stalker Spike, and used Jimmy-Page, Musically-Inclined Spike to return to a state of Blissfully Happy Spike.
That was a first...
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Me: This was my first fic on slayerfanfic.net so I'm not sure if I've done it exactly right. Hope you liked ^_^
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