Oz's band had just finished playing their set when the annoucer claimed the microphone.
"Last up, we have a duet to 'Death's Head' by a group called 'Mortal Enemies'. Let's give them a warm welcome," the announcer said, applauding as he backed off of the stage.
Buffy and Spike entered the platform from opposite sides;Spike's game-face very visible. Buffy was glad it was just a part of their 'act'.
Buffy ignored the collective gasp of the Slayerettes as the applause dwindled and the crowd sat down, allowing her and Spike to be seen.
The music started, and Buffy moved to it, getting used to the rythm of the heart-pounding bass.
Then, as if it had been coreographed, she and Spike circled each other in defensive stance as Buffy began to sing, her eyes locked firmly on Spike's.
*Death's pointed at your head,
your mind's on the trigger-pull it!
bludgeoned bodies give up their muted horror story,
scene of your rage, death is not strange,
blood on the walls,
you stand alone, satisfied.*
In the seconds before the chorus, Buffy punched Spike square in the jaw, sending his head jerking to one side.
*I'll wake the silence in you,
I'll shoot the violence through you.*
She punched him again, this time in the nose, and recieved a viscious kick in the ribs for her trouble.
*Terrified by the thought that you are alone,
paralyzed by the fact that you are not alone,
you're losing your mind, I'm losing control,
you'r losing your mind, as I bury your world.*
This time, their fists collided with each other's faces in unison as they began to sing the chorus together.
*I'll wake the silence in you,
I'll shoot the violence through you.*
They began circling each other again as Buffy began the second verse.
*I can't remember, yet someone always seems to die,
you are the reason I became the Chosen One,
I've got the right,
God makes no sense,
I've got the right,
I feel my back against the wall.*
In truth, Buffy DID have her back against the wall, with Spike advancing toward her. As soon as he was in range, Buffy kicked him in the face.
Spike returned a solid punch to Buffy's stomach, then backed away slowly as he began to sing his part.
*Death's pointed at your head,
your mind's on the trigger-pull it!
bludgeoned bodies give up their muted horror story,
scene of my rage, scene of my rage,
death is your name,
you're facing your grave.*
Buffy and Spike circled each other warily, never getting too close.
*I taste your tears, caress your face,
I watch you lie insane,
dying for love,
praying to die,
I want what's inside you.*
Spike reached out abd brushed Buffy's cheek gently as he continued.
*Dressed in your blood,
you wear it well,
dying because I care,
your eyes are wide,
but you cannot see,
rotting my lust away.*
Buffy and Spike kicked and punched at each other, but they never touched one another as they finished the song.
*I'll shoot the violence through you,
and wake the part that's dead,
I hate the silence in you,
I want what's in your head!*
As the last strains of music faded, they both executed perfect flips over each other, fists colliding with one another's deads as they passed mid-air.
When they landed, the crowd was on its feet, the sound of applause nearly deafening.
Buffy glanced at her friends, whose mouths were collectively hanging open in utter shock as they prepared to have massive teenage heart-attacks.
Buffy and spike exited the stage and claimed a table for themselves, gratefully accepting the free drinks a waitress brought them while waiting for the judges' decision.
Buffy and Spike focused their attention on the stge as the announcer walked to the mike, smiling like he'd just won the lottery.
"First prize and the $6,000 goes to 'Mortal Enemies'. Well done!" he had to yell the last part because the audience was cheering so loudly.
Spike and Buffy jumped to their feet and laughed together as Spike picked Buffy up and swung her around.
Bursting with happiness and excitement, Buffy pulled Spike to her roughly and kissed him forcefully.
Looking shocked, Spike nodded absently as he was handed a check for $6,000.
Buffy giggled at his expression. "Don't worry, Spike. You're not gonna drop dead 'cuz I touched you," she teased.
"Oh, yes, he is," Xander said, raising a stake to attack Spike from behind Buffy.
Without even looking behind her, Buffy reached backwards and disarmed him easily.
"Not now, Xander," Buffy said, her voice hardened with the edge of a warning.
"Yeah, really. I'm not here to fight. Well, actually, I was, but I'm not out for a bunch of dead teenagers tonight," Spike said, lighting a cigarette and sitting down.
Xander was very obviously out of his league, so rather than be subjected to further embarrassment, he turned abruptly and stalked towards the others.
Buffy sat down across from Spike. "Okay, now that we've had our fun, let's get down to business. The banks are all closed at night, so I figure I can take the check and cash it tomorrow. I can meet you here around ten or so and we can split it."
"How do I know you're not gonna keep my share of the money?" Spike asked innocently.
"Because, moron, I'd have to leave the country if I did that, and I don't fancy having to learn another language. You have my word," Buffy said. "Besides, it's not like you'd miss is anyway. You're filthy rich."
"Alright, Slayer. I'll meet you tomorrow. Let's try not to kill each other before then, eh?"Spike suggested.
"Okay. It's kinda fun not having to worry about you ripping my throat out," Buffy admitted.
Spike nodded his agreement. "Wanna dance?"
Buffy smiled. "Sure, why not?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next night, Buffy was dressed to kill in a tight black leather mini-skirt, crimson silk shirt, fishnet hose and spiked heels as she entered the Bronze at precisely 10:01.
Spike was waiting for her, looking delicious in his tight black leather pants and a red silk shirt that matched her own.
He smiled when he saw her. "Hello, Buffy," he said, pulling her chair out for her.
Buffy said down, perplexed by his strange behavior."I didn't even think you KNEW my name," she commented.
Spike looked wounded. "Of course I know your name, dearest. I've been trying to kill you for two years, I'm quite familiar with you."
Buffy reached across the table, took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. "How familiar?" she asked, exhaling.
Spike was shocked to see the Slayer doing something as hazardous to her health as smoking. Still, he shook himself and forced himself to answer her question.
"You've got a stuffed pig named Mr. Gordo that you sleep with every night, you keep your diary in your underwear drawer, you have a night shirt that says 'I lust you', you sing in the shower, you love Sarah Maclaughlin, your mother treats you like a child, you like Cafe Mocha and chocolate ice-cream...Shall I go on?" Spike asked.
"No, that's okay...William Shane Blunden," Buffy said, grinning wickedly as Spike went pale...er.
"Bloody hell. This sucks!" Spike growled.
Buffy lit another cigarette. "Nice choice of words, Willy."
"Smoking causes cancer, Slayer," Spike snapped, upset that she knew his little secret. He HATED his given name.
"It's not like I'll live long enough to get cancer anyway. Hell, by tomorrow night at midnight, I'll be history," the Slayer said bitterly.
"What?" Spike demanded, forgetting that he was irritated with her.
"Giles found a prophecy...Three months after Acathla is defeated, on the full moon, the portal to Hell will reopen. The only thing that can close it is the sacrifice of the one who defeated him the last time. Which means me. So, as of tomorrow night, no more Buffy Summers," she said, her voice deadpan.
"Not if I can help it," Spike muttered.
"Huh? Shouldn't you be jumping for joy right about now?" Buffy asked icily.
Spike smiled gently. "I should be. But, I'm not. I can't go back to trying to kill you. My heart hasn't been in it for a while anyway. If I can help you, I will. Just don't expect me to give up blood."
Buffy met his gaze evenly. "Okay...I just...I don't want to die, Spike," she said, her voice wavering.
Spike was at her side, his arms securely around her in a protective embrace. "I don't want you to die either. We'll figure something out, pet," he comforted her.
But, deep down, he wasn't so sure...
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