Buffy's nights were slowly blending into one another. She got into a routine: wake up, contemplate killing Spike, then put down the stake and wonder why. Get a needle, drain off a little blood, fill a shot glass and put it on the table. Pour herself some cereal. The crinkle of the cereal bag always woke up Spike, who would crawl to the table bleary-eyed and pound down the shot of slayer blood. After that, he would be cheerful and as full of life as the undead can be.
Then they'd go out, usually go somewhere different each night, always ending up at the park. Spike, because of a century-old habit of robbing his victims, had plenty of money to spend... so they spent. They went out for Chinese (Buffy ate, while Spike drank tea and eyed the waitress), they went to see the Statue of Liberty, the stores - and then they went to Central Park.
This became their favorite haunt. It started the first night they went there, when Spike had wanted to kill a street person and Buffy hadn't let him. They had been arguing about it, yelling at each other nose to nose, when they were interrupted by a gang of three hulking tough kids that reminded Buffy of Larry. Two had knives and one carried a baseball bat.
"You're trespassing on our property," the leader told them through a mouthful of broken teeth. "But I'll let you off this time, if you pay me the fine!"
Buffy, incredulous, said, "You have GOT to be kidding!" She glanced at Spike. "You want to take it, or shall I?"
"I got it," he said. He calmly told the kids, "First of all, this has just become our turf, not yours. Second, you're not nearly intimidating enough to pull off something like this, and third -" his face morphed into vampire guise, "-I am!"
They began to back away slowly. "What are you?" asked one.
"Hungry!" Spike answered with a toothy, monster's grin. They ran. Spike's face switched back to human, and looked disappointed. "Bugger," he said quietly. "I was feeling a little peckish!" Buffy just glared at him.
Another night they went to see "6 Days, 7 Nights." Buffy always enjoyed a nice, uninterrupted ogle at Harrison Ford, and she was just sitting there enjoying the movie when she felt Spike's arm creeping around her shoulders. She shot him her usual glare, and he smiled at her in a way that decades of women must have told him made him look especially cute and innocent.
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Just flirting," he said. He saw her face and chuckled. "With death, it looks like."
Buffy advised him in a furious whisper to keep his filthy undead hands to himself, to which he responded with a wounded look. "My undead hands are clean," he defended himself. "Literally, I've washed them. Metaphorically, I haven't taken a life in weeks!"
Buffy still glared. "What about Drusilla?"
He shrugged. In actuality, the memory of his dearly departed raven-haired raving whacko had begun to fade. In fact, he was finding the slayer much more entertaining to live with than Dru had ever been. True, he missed living blood - sometimes, that is; he neglected to tell Buffy about the wino he'd fed lightly from a few nights earlier. After all, he hadn't killed the man, so why worry the slayer needlessly? - but by and large, he was forced to admit, his life was much more interesting now. He didn't always have to walk on eggshells like he'd had to do with Dru; the slayer was certainly strong enough to take anything he could dish out!
Plus it gave him a heightened sense of well-being, knowing how close she came to staking him every evening when she woke up. He always woke before she did, and lay there waiting to see if this would be the night. He'd be ready if she ever did strike, but she hadn't yet. He glanced at the diminutive but fierce-looking blonde beside him and whispered, "I don't count Drusilla. Do you?"
Buffy looked at him oddly and turned her attention back to the movie, carefully ignoring his arm still around her.
What on earth was he playing at, she wondered. Was he planning to attack her in the cinema? Or was he just leaning close for the kill? Was this some new sort of power play, trying to get her off guard? That was it, she decided. He just wanted the upper hand. She smiled grimly. If this was the game he wanted to play, she could play it too. And come out ahead.
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