I've been reading Spike/Buffy fics for a while now, and I wanted to
write one. I needed to take a break from my other fic - "Unmei" - a
SM/DBZ fic, so I started to write this. Not to mention that I am
obessed with Spike! Small note on the timeline - this is set after
Intervention. I haven't seen the season finale yet.
Oh – thanks to Isabelle for translating lyrics for me – hurry up with
"One Hundred Years of Solitude" so I can bug you with my reviews
again ;)
So this is my first BtVS fic, and here goes nothing...



Bailamos
by Angel Eternal
email: [email protected]

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon, several
companies and God knows who else. One thing is certain - I don't own
any of it! Nothing - zip - nada!






She spun the stake expertly between her fingers, bored out of her mind.
Nothing has happened. Tonight of all nights she needed to feel the adrenaline pumping in her veins.
Making her forget.

He watched the moonlight play on her face, and dance in her hair. He wanted to do the same.
To run his fingers over her face, tracing each feature, memorising lovingly every part. To run his
fingers through her hair, watch the silken strands flow from his grasp.
But he would never get that close. She'd stake him first.

She heard a crunch, and with lightening speed she whirled around, stake poised, ready for the
fight.
Then she saw a flicker of white in the darkness. Disappointed she let her hand drop.
"Oh...it's you."

He stepped out of the shadows. He hated seeing that expression on her face. But it was what
he always saw. She was never glad to see him.
"Sorry to disappoint pet."

Buffy Summers sighed, "Whatever, just go away - you're probably scaring the vamps away."

Spike laughed, "Are you kidding love? You know they find me irresistible."

She detested his accent - the words rolling off his tongue and dancing down her spine...
"At least somebody does."

Spike snorted, "And there's the trademark wit - been waiting for you to say something like
that pet."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Happy to oblige."

She started to walk away and he fell into step beside her.

When had it become so easy?

He couldn't resist. He was a fool and he knew it.

Buffy sighed, there was nothing. "There aren't any vamps here! Damn it!"

Spike glanced at her, offended. "And what do you call me?"

"Neutered."

"Hey!"

Buffy tried hard not to laugh, but glancing at his face, she couldn't help herself.

Spike stared at her stunned. He had never heard any laughter that came out of her mouth that
didn't hold contempt in it's ringing tones. This was pure laughter.

Buffy clamped her hand over her mouth.

Spike couldn't tear his gaze off her hand, suddenly obeying instinct he grabbed it and pressed
his lips onto hers.

Buffy gasped in surprised.

Spike took advantage. He plundered her mouth, expecting her to push him away. He had to
take every moment.

She felt as if her head was swimming; she couldn't think straight; she was going insane. She
returned the kiss just as viciously.

He loosened his grip on her hand, and rubbed his thumb on her palm. She shuddered -
surrendering.

Her free hand, wandered to his back, to clasp his waist and draw him in closer.

He was drowning; she was emersed...

* * *

Spike jerked upright. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

It had felt so real. He could still feel the warmth of her in his arms, so hot, brimming with
life.

He groaned and fell back on the pillow, wanting to just die.

He was pathetic. A vampire in love with the Slayer. Wait change that - a neutered vampire
in love with the Slayer. It was love - contrary to popular belief, vampires could love. They
could love until it hurts. Why else would they give the Dark Gift to others?
It was out of love. A desperate act to keep that loved one in one's embrace.
But he was the exception to the rule wasn't he? Drusilla gave him the Gift because she pitied
him. She didn't love him - not then - nor ever.

Spike growled. He felt helpless, useless. He had to get a hold on himself. He was no longer
that prancing poof known as William. He hadn't been William in a long time.

But he knew that she was driving him bonkers. She was in his system, swimming tauntingly
in his head. He always saw her, always dreamt of her - it had to stop.


* * *

Buffy gasped, sitting upright. She promptly fell back against the pillows.

She had been dreaming. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, surprised to find it wet, clinging
to her cheeks.

That dream - it was so real. How could she dream of...that! It was disgusting, revolting...
Who was she kidding?

Her body had sung beneath his imaginary touch, firing her with a longing she had never felt
before.

She had the worst taste in men, and who else knew better then herself? She knew the type
of guy she had always fancied. It wasn't the straight-lance jock type. Her dream guy didn't
possess a heavy body, and large, clumsy hands. No - her dream guy was lean and muscled,
with high cheekbones, and piercing eyes that saw more then she wanted to be seen. He
would have graceful fingers, that would glide over her body. He'd have a husky voice. He'd
smoke, letting the smoke drift up to frame a stunning face. He'd wear black...

Oh God help her.

* * *

Right. The stalking, puppy love thing had to go.

He had once taunted Captain Cardboard that Buffy fancied a bit of monster in her man. He
knew that for a fact. The girl had a thing for the bad boy, even if she didn't realise it herself.
So what did he do? He turned himself into the most pathetic wanker to ever walk the sodding
earth. Smart of him huh?

Well, it had to end. There was no way that Buffy would even glance at him twice if he was
always trailing after her.

* * *

"Hey Buffy? Not dancing?"

Buffy and the Scooby gang were at the Bronze; it was one of their excursions into the land of
the Normal - or at least attempting to.

Buffy smiled weakly at Willow, "Nah - not yet at least. I just need to latch onto some guy -
some really hot guy."

Willow scanned the darkened room, "Hmm - not much at the moment huh? But there are
a couple of really hot girls..." she blushed, realising what she had just said. "Not that you
would...I mean..."

Buffy laughed, "It's ok Wills - they're all yours. I'll distract Tara while you pick-up."

Willow's already reddened cheeks reddened even further. Buffy laughed again.
"Don't worry Wills, I know you're dedicated."

Willow cleared her throat; "Umm, yeah - I think I better go to Tara." she blushed again
when Buffy winked at her.

She was alone again, that was when her gaze fell on him. She watched him covertly, trying
to disguise the fact that she was watching. She would willingly die before she allowed him
to know. He leaned on the bar, a drink held in one hand, a cigarette dangling from the corner
of his mouth. His form was deceptively relaxed, as his piercing blue eyes scanned the room.
She looked away. She had to stop this; she could not allow it go further.

She could not. It was forbidden...

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he languorously pushed away from the bar, and
moved with panther-like grace through the crowd. But even if she looked away, she knew
precisely where he was - her heightened senses, keenly attuned to his presence. This sense
was part of who she was, and was something that had repeatedly saved her life. But it was
something that she didn't want, not now. She didn't want to hear his steps, maddeningly slow.
The waves of icy breath rushing down her spine. The intense pressure of his eyes. She didn't
want it. She didn't want him silently calling out to her, demanding something she could not give.

* * *

Spike watched her, like he always did - like he promised himself he wouldn't. He just couldn't
help himself.

He watched as she laughed with the witch. He watched as the lights danced on her face,
illuminating her for one moment, then clothing her in darkness once more. He watched as her
fingers skimmed the top of her glass, probably unconsciously.

He had to stop this. He pushed himself off the bar, making his way slowly through the crowd.
He let his gaze fall on one girl then another, any girl except for THE girl.

One of the girls boldly pushed herself towards him, invitingly.

Spike studied her, the black hair swirling to a delicate waist. Large blue eyes, innocent, filled
with rose-tinted dreams. She wore a body-hugging black dress, which swirled to her thighs.
It left little to the imagination. She swayed to the music, hips moving, lips curved in a seductive
smile. She was his type of girl. Well, what used to be his type of girl.

He took her tiny waist, and drew her close to him. She inhaled slowly, appreciating him. They
moved seductively to the music.

* * *

Buffy watched him, she saw how he made his way smoothly through the crowd. He was like
her in that respect. People made way for him.

She saw the looks that the girls were giving him, neither was she blind or stupid. A low boiling
started in the pit of her stomach as she watched a girl approach him. She was beautifully
exotic. Spike always preferred brunettes didn't he? Why did that thought, intensify the boiling
in her stomach?

She watched as Spike dipped his head, to run his tongue across the girl's collarbone, and
wondered why she wanted to rip him off the girl and hurl the girl through the wall.
She knew that he wasn't hurting the girl, he'd be a puddle of pain at her feet if that was the
case.

Buffy struggled to remember that she hated him.

* * *

He could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. Feeling perverse, he dipped his
head and ran his tongue across the girl's collarbone. He heard her shuddering sigh, heard
the swish of blood through her veins, he could smell the heady perfume of her hot blood.
But none of these occupied his thoughts.

Buffy was sitting there, fists clenched, whole body tense, and eyes on him.

He moved away from the girl, ignoring her protests. He locked eyes with the Slayer. Never
did he look away, as he threaded his way through the crowd.

* * *

Spike looked up. Buffy watched as he let the girl go, watched as the girl clung to his arm,
but he effortlessly shook her off.

She was stunned when he looked directly at her, holding her gaze. Sardonic grin in place,
he silently dared her to look away. But she couldn't bear to tear her gaze from those
piercing blue eyes.

* * *

"Hullo pet."

He could smell her, that unique scent that was only Buffy.

"Spike..." his name was a whisper on her lips.

Her blue eyes was glazed, taking advantage he leaned over to whisper in her shell-like
ear. "Dance with me."


~ Esta noche bailamos ~
(Tonight we dance)


Buffy frowned at him. "No - I'd rather..."

"Keel over and die - I know." He grinned at her; he knew how to get her. "Are you
frightened?"

There it was, that husky voice, smooth British tone making the words roll of his glib
tongue. "Frightened? Of what? You? Don't make me laugh Spike."

One eyebrow arched, he held out his hand, "Prove it."

Temper flashed in her eyes, and she grabbed his hand. She pulled him close to her.
She went on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "You think you can manipulate me that
easily?"

His head spun with the proximity. "Wouldn't dream of manipulating you love."

The word rolled off his tongue - and images from her dream flashed through her mind
as she pulled him closer to the dance floor. She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
"Think you can handle it?"

The silken strands brushed his face, he drowned in the scent, "Bring it on baby."

~ Esta noche te doy la bienvenida ~
(Tonight I welcome you)


He touched her hand, his thumb rubbing her palm, and she was struck by the
similarity to her dream. The feeling that ripped through her was unexpected. She
pressed her hand into his, silently begging.


~ Quedate conmigo ~
(Stay with me)






~ To be continued ~





So how was it? Terrible? Predictable? Mediocre?
I have feeling it's all of the above.