Disclaimer: I own nothing except Aubrey and Nora, the rest is of Joss the Whedon.
About a year after his appearance at W&H, after he had been out working off frustration on some now-dusty-vamps, Spike was having a drink in a bar where there was a sort of open mic night going on. Luckily Lorne hadn’t gotten a hold of it, so it was mostly decent music being played. There she was with a honey-colored guitar sitting on a stool. Earthen-brown waves for hair, light skin and the slightest band of freckles on her face, all set off by green eyes unlike any he’d seen. The blue backlights were set off by a bright halogen from the front, making her skin glow something like it would in the sunlight, something Spike could really appreciate on a girl. Her smooth voice sang out smooth and something in him was touched that had not stirred since those last days with Buffy. Wonder and comfort.
(This is really Shoot the moon by Norah Jones)
The summer days are gone too soon
You shoot the moon
And miss completely
And now you're left to face the gloom
The empty room that once smelled sweetly
Of all the flowers you plucked if only
You knew the reason
Why you had to each be lonely
Was it just the season?
Now Now the fall is here again
You You cant begin to give in
When the snows come rolling through
You’re rolling too with some new lover
Will you think of times you've told me
That you knew the reason
Why we had to each be lonely
Was it just the season ?
She loved this song, and loved to sing it. It made her think of the summer she spent in New Hampshire at the lake and the unkept promises she had made to Justin before they went to college. Much simpler times. There was something different in the air tonight; it was trying to tell her something. The intuition she inherited from her mother and grandmother gave her an instinct as good as any slayer, or vampire. She kept glancing over in Spike’s direction, without knowing the cause, with the bright lights on her face, reaching out with her mind to listen to what was being whispered in her ear.
She got down from the stool, and went over to the bar. He watched her, not admitting to himself that he couldn’t categorize her. Being naturally obstinate yet smooth, he walked over and sat down next to her, “Offer you a drink, luv?”
Nora was not used to getting hit on by these types of guys…The jacket, the hair, and especially the blue-collar British accent. Not her type, but that didn’t mean she’d judge a book by its cover, ‘you’re such a poo, Nora. Live a little.’ Looking him up and down, she half smiled and nodded, “Gin and Tonic”
She wasn’t his type, but he’d liked her confidence. So different from that of Buffy. The Slayer had an arrogance, but that came from her mission in life fighting for good so many years. Not everyone was cut out for that, and he missed the simplicity of being the evil one occasionally, the shades of gray were wearying especially at W&H/. This girl seemed too serene to have any idea what might meet her in a dark alleyway. Nora wasn’t beautiful, certainly not by L.A.’s standards for the beautiful people, but she was.. collected? He wasn’t sure... maybe that’s why she was enticing to him.
Giles stared at his tumbler, brow furrowed. He cleaned his glasses again in the silence between them. Spike sighed, and broke the silence,
“Well, the short version goes something like this: I met a girl. We talked. I saved her, and saved her some more. I held her at bay while I still loved buffy, till I realized I loved her… after that, you could say that she saved me.”
“Now hold on just a moment”, Giles muttered cleaning his glasses, “This Nora, you live with her?”
Spike raised his eyebrows, “Jeez, Old Rupes must really be having a hard time with this” he thoguht. He jerked his head to one side, toward the wide archway into the living room. Giles hadn’t noticed the Barbie tent set up in the middle of the living room, or the tiny pair of Mary Janes next to the door. There were pictures of multi-colored scribble covering the fridge and half a nibbled pb&j sandwich on a plate with apple slices and a mini juice-box with a chewed straw at the table to his right. A purple and pink backpack sat on the next chair with a script Aubrey embroidered on it. “My god, he’s a father…”, then coughed to himself, “Stupid git, you’re here because of his daughter.”
“I’ll get to the real happenings now, that was just the teaser, Rupes.” He smiled a genuine one, with the light in his eyes different than Giles had ever seen them. Not lit with anger, or hunger or danger, but of sweet reminiscence. He poured Giles another drink.
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