This bit of Spuffiness came to me at 3am. It takes place within the timescale of 'Checkpoint' just after the cemetery scene. The song inspired the whole thing. I know it's very old and maybe not many of you have heard of it. I heard it a long time ago, and it was old then. Now that I've been obsessing over it for a couple of months, I've just obtained a vinyl 45 of the version I remember, by the Cryin' Shames with amazing vocals by Carl Crane. Thanks to Bob Hilliard and Burt Bacharach for writing it- it's called 'Please Stay'.
New rules on require that I remove the song lyrics from this story. That sort of makes a nonsense of the story, but I hope you can still make sense of it.
Amanda Barry stood at the doorway to her office and castigated herself for being a fool. It was not going to work, and she was going to be left with a debt she couldn't hope to pay off any time soon. When she moved to Sunnydale, the first thing she noticed was the almost total lack of nightlife. There was the Bronze, and there were various events over at UC Sunnydale, but there was little else beyond some very sleazy bars with some very odd-looking customers. So she'd had a bright idea. She had some money, and she could borrow the rest. What Sunnydale needed was a night-spot – somewhere the young people could come to dance, meet and generally have fun. Somewhere that was not the Bronze.
It had taken six months to pull it together, and it hadn't even cost as much as her original estimate. For some reason there was a lot of unoccupied property in the town. This was her second night. She'd opened on Tuesday and had a 'Gala Opening' planned for Saturday. She had posters all over town advertising the official opening of 'The Mysterious Stranger'. If she hadn't already spent so much money on advertising and the neon sign outside, she'd change that name. Why had it seemed so right? Now it just seemed silly. She'd wanted a few quiet nights to oil the wheels before things got busy. Looking out at the dance floor, she smiled despite herself. She could count seven girls dancing. Looking around, there were two couples sitting at separate tables looking like they were waiting for an excuse to leave. Still, the girls seemed to be enjoying themselves. A party from work, she guessed. They were just out having a giggle and experimenting with dance moves they'd never have the nerve to try on a crowded dance floor.
She had just decided to go back into her office and work out how much money she would lose tonight, when she saw him come in. He was a striking man, not exceptionally tall, but with bleached blonde hair and dressed completely in black. He walked like a predator, like he was stalking something. Something in his gait suggested power. She changed her mind. Instead she went to the bar to get a drink and sat at a table.
Spike walked up to the bar and bought himself a beer. He headed for a table where he had a good view of the girls on the dance floor. He'd just had another run-in with the Slayer and he was not happy. Why couldn't she just accept his help? He'd saved her life tonight, he was sure of it, but she'd just accused him of 'getting in the way'. It was getting more difficult to maintain this pretence. Somehow when he insisted on being paid to help her, things had been easier. Of course, that was back when he understood his role in life. Chipped or not, he was a vampire and he hated the Slayer. Only now he knew he didn't hate her. He loved her. "The way she acted tonight," he thought, "has she guessed how I feel? Does she know that when I look at her now, I'm not looking for her vulnerabilities any more? I'm just looking, imagining... No, don't go there. There lies trouble."
He needed a few drinks to calm down. Somehow, drinking alone in his crypt just made him feel pitiful. Correct that, more pitiful. What could be more pathetic than a vampire in love with the Slayer? An unsouled vampire. He didn't even have Angel's excuse. He'd thought about going to Willy's, but that had lost its appeal about the time the rest of the patrons discovered he was helping the Slayer. Then he'd considered the Bronze, but there was too much chance of running into Buffy or one of her gang there. Then he remembered reading about a new place. "Well," he'd thought, "I'm always willing to try something new." He hadn't expected it to be so quiet. Still, it beat being alone. The music was pretty much what he had expected. Bland, recent, unmemorable.
He'd just bought a second beer and wasn't really listening any more when something changed. That song. That wasn't recent. It was old, well maybe not by his standards. "I'm probably the only one here who heard that one the first time around," he thought.
Song lyrics removed
The voice was low and sultry. He hadn't heard it for a long time. It took him back. It was 1966. Funny how some years you remember, and some decades just fade into a haze. 1966 he'd always remember. He'd taken Dru to London. So much was happening there then. Especially music. But Dru wasn't happy. Being in London made her think about Angelus. He'd been gone a long time. They hadn't needed him. They'd been happy. But since they arrived, all he'd heard was 'Angelus this' and 'Angelus that'. How good he was to her. How she missed him. How she wished Spike could find him for her. Spike could do nothing right. He was sick of it. He'd do anything for Dru. He had done everything he could think of to make her happy. He always had. He loved her. He looked after her. Their love was eternal.
They'd found a nice flat when they arrived. It was what was euphemistically called a 'garden flat'. That meant the windows were at ground level above a dug out which included a door. Very little light made it through the windows. It was ideal. The owner hadn't been particularly tasty, but that didn't matter.
After two weeks of Dru's complaints, Spike woke one evening just after sunset. Dru was still asleep. They hadn't even made love before they slept. He dressed, picked up a few things he didn't want to lose and left. He simply couldn't take any more. He loved Dru more than anything, but to be constantly and unflatteringly compared to his Sire was more than any man should be asked to accept.
He stayed away for two whole days. He tried not to think about her, not to worry about her. It didn't work. She wasn't very practical. Sometimes she wouldn't feed for days because of some song she heard in her head, or because the trees told her not to. It wouldn't hurt just to check. He'd just look and leave. He wasn't going to get sucked in again.
Shortly after he arrived outside the flat they had shared, he saw her going out. He followed. As she walked, something stopped her. She lifted her head as if trying to find something by its scent. Her eyes arrested on a nearby door. She walked to it and rang the doorbell. A young man answered the door. Dru could be perfectly charming when she wanted to be, and he heard her explain that she was feeling unwell and needed to sit down for a moment. One look at her pale, beautiful face must have reassured the man, because he invited her in. "That's my Dru," Spike thought, smiling, "it works every time."
When she emerged, she had something under her arm. Spike couldn't make out what it was, but he knew from the look of dreamy satisfaction on her face that she'd fed. He followed her back to their flat, making sure she was inside before going off to feed for himself.
Before the night was over he was back in the street outside the flat. He walked down the steps to the front door then turned left into a covered area under the steps to the flat upstairs. There, he waited for the sunrise.
He must have slept, because when he next looked, the sun was high. He heard something – music. It was that record everyone was playing just now. What was it? 'Please Stay', yeah, that was it, by the Crying Shames, or something like that. Must be coming from upstairs.
Song lyrics removed
Dru only liked the music she heard in her head. It was one of the few things about their relationship he had always resented. She listened to the stars, or the trees. Sometimes Spike thought she listened to the fairies, but that was all part of her charm. There was enough undergrowth for him to creep along and look in the window. What he saw surprised him so much, he had to have a closer look. Covering himself in his coat, he sprinted for the front door, hoping she hadn't locked it. She hadn't. He crept inside as quietly as he could. He stood in the hallway and looked into the lounge. Dru was facing the other way and couldn't see him. There was someone else in the room. There was a man tied up in the corner. He had two gashes in his neck, but he was still alive. She'd obviously gone out again after he'd left. "Bringing food home?" he thought, "That wasn't her usual style." He turned to watch Dru. She was dressed in a red cheesecloth dress which was skin tight and translucent. She was playing the record. Now he knew what was under her arm when he saw her. She'd taken the man's record player.
Song lyrics removed
She was whispering his name, "William, my William," over and over in time with the slow tempo of the music. His Dru was listening to music. No, his Dru was completely entranced by music and dancing to it. No, dancing wasn't the right word either, but he couldn't think of a better one. Dru was moving, swaying her hips, swinging her arms, so sinuously, languorously, it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. And after over sixty years with Dru, that was saying something.
Song lyrics removed
He watched her, as entranced as she was, until the song ended. As the arm of the record player lifted and then returned to play the song again, he walked silently into the room. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist, moving in time with her, back to front before spinning her around to face him and continuing to move with her. The feeling of moving with her was so good. The song ended and started again. He knew she loved him. He knew she needed him. He knew he'd never think of leaving her again. Of course, she'd left him in the end, but that was another story.
Now that song was playing again. He hadn't heard it in thirty years. Without conscious thought, Spike stood up and pulled off his coat. His skin tight t-shirt and jeans accentuated his surprisingly muscular build. He walked to the group of girls who were rather self-consciously wondering how to dance to this music. He approached one of them and asked her to dance. She was surprised, but agreed. He took her to the centre of the floor and danced with her the way he and Dru and danced that day, every movement calculated to ensure maximum contact. Movements so slow, they hardly seemed like movements.
Song lyrics removed
He closed his eyes. The funny thing was, he didn't see Dru when he did that. He saw Buffy. He liked what he saw. He moved his arms from the girl's waist to her shoulders. No, that was no good. This girl had short hair, to complete the picture he'd have to feel soft hair around her shoulders. He returned his hands to her waist and pulled her tighter.
Clare was surprised when the stranger asked her to dance. He was the only unattached man in the place, but even so, she wasn't sure why she'd agreed. This was a girl's night out. Still, it was ... interesting. No, not the best word. She'd think of something better – when she could think clearly. She glanced at her friends. They were looking on in blank astonishment. What this stranger was doing with her, here in this public place was something she knew she should object to. They were both fully dressed but she no longer felt it. She should walk away from this, and yet...
Amanda watched the couple dancing in amazement. Every eye in the place was on them. She didn't know who this man was, but she ran to her office and brought out her camera. She took several shots of the couple.
When the music ended, Spike pulled away from the girl, gave her his trade mark cocky grin and returned to his table. He quickly downed the rest of his beer, put on his coat and left.
Amanda now knew why she'd chosen that name for the club. She didn't understand it, but she knew. She put the photos she'd taken on the notice board outside and hoped for the best.
The next night there were twice as many in the club. The group of girls from the previous night had brought their friends. At about 10.30pm, he came again. And again, after a while, the DJ played that song. And again he danced – with a different girl. And again, it was the best floorshow she could have hoped for. Amanda took more photos. And just like the previous night, when the song finished, Spike finished his drink, put on his coat and left.
Spike was enjoying his little game. It hadn't been premeditated but something about that song moved him every time. And it seemed harmless enough. He could imagine Buffy in his arms, feeling her body close to him. He grinned to himself as he relived the memory. He knew it was the closest he would ever get to her.
It was Friday night. Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander had decided Buffy needed a night out. Willow had heard about a new club which had opened. "It's called 'The Mysterious Stranger'." she told them. "I heard some girls talking about it at lunchtime. They've got this gimmick – this mysterious stranger turns up and dances with one of the girls and it's supposed to be amazing to watch. Wanna give it a try?"
"Sure," replied Anya, nudging Xander. "Maybe Xander'll pick up some tips.
There was a crowd round the notice board when Buffy and her friends arrived that night, so they didn't see the photo montage of Spike. He was already inside when they arrived. The whole place was full, so they didn't spot him in the crowd. When his music started, Spike got up and made for a girl standing close to the dance floor. "Just right," he thought, appraising her, head cocked to one side unconsciously, as he studied her. "Buffy's height and build, hair about the right length." The Scoobies were at the bar and Xander was telling them about something which happened at work that day, so they didn't notice.
The dance floor cleared as Spike led the girl into the centre. As he started to move, he closed his eyes as he always did. Something about the change in atmosphere in the room penetrated to Buffy. She walked away from her friends, trying to see what everyone else was watching. When she saw the couple on the dance floor she stood transfixed. That was Spike. Dancing. No, that wasn't dancing. With a girl. And by the look on her face, the girl was really enjoying it. Really enjoying it. Buffy felt herself flush – with embarrassment she told herself. She was embarrassed at such a public display. But why? They were both fully dressed. This shouldn't make her feel this way. Yet it seemed to be a display of barely restrained, naked passion. Fully dressed. In a public place. She couldn't take her eyes off them. She felt a prickle of something else. No, not jealousy. It couldn't be jealousy. She didn't want Spike. The last thing she needed in her life was another vampire. Wasn't it? She hated Spike. He'd been different lately, though. He was horrible to her tonight, she remembered, but only after he'd been horrible to him. There was a different character to his insults recently. Almost defensive. No, she was imagining it. Nothing had changed. She hated him and he hated her. Still, she looked admiringly at the muscular arms that held his partner tight. She imagined how they would feel wrapped around her. "Stop," she told herself. "He's an evil blood-sucking fiend. He's an evil blood-sucking fiend with a skin tight t-shirt and muscles in all the right places. And he was so sweet the night she first knew her mother was ill."
When the song ended there was a stunned silence before the onlookers started to applaud. Spike looked up, genuinely surprised. He hadn't realised everyone had been watching. Buffy lost sight of him in the crowd. When she turned round, Xander was behind her. "What was that?" he asked. "What did we miss?"
"J .. just the floorshow – you know the mysterious stranger," she stuttered.
"Oh," Xander nodded. "Any good?"
Buffy found she couldn't answer and simply shrugged.
Buffy couldn't get the sight of Spike, dancing, out of her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, moving, swaying, to the music, against his partner's body, each motion unbelievably erotic. It made for a very uncomfortable night.
It was Saturday evening. Dawn was staying with a friend. Her mom had to stay in hospital for the night and had insisted she didn't want Buffy or Dawn coming to keep her company. She needed rest. Buffy could do whatever she wanted. So why did find herself dressing in that new, strappy black dress she'd been saving for a special occasion? Why was she applying her make-up with special care? Why, in fact, was she planning to go back to that new club? It wasn't anything special. She was not going there to see Spike. Definitely not. She just deserved a night out. That was all.
This time she arrived earlier. The club was busy, but she looked around and found no sign of him. "Good," she thought, "I'm glad he's not here tonight." She bought herself a drink and chose a table close to the dance floor. She danced a few times, although not as often as she was asked. She had just decided that this whole evening was a bad idea and that she should leave, when she saw him. He chose a table across the dance floor from her. Buffy moved round her table so there was a pillar between them.
That song started.
Song lyrics removed
Buffy stood up and moved in front of Spike's table. She was moving before she consciously recognised the fact. The floor had already started to clear, such was the anticipation. Spike took off his coat and looked up, searching for the right girl. He stopped looking, his gaze arrested on the vision in a very small black dress in front of him. He started to walk, not towards her, but towards a group of girls off to the right. She moved to block him. He stopped. This had to be a plan to engineer another put down for him. And that was not going to happen. He started to move away again, but she came straight to him. "Dance, Spike?" Buffy said, her voice all but drowned by the music. That did it. If she wanted a dance, he'd give her one she'd remember. He took a final step towards her and put his arms around her. He started to move. This time his eyes were wide open. He was going to remember every detail of these few minutes forever.
Song lyrics removed
The only sounds in the place were the music and her heartbeat. Buffy was sure it was being amplified along with the music. This was amazing. This wasn't dancing, but whatever it was, she wanted it to last forever. His movements were slow as he rubbed himself against her. She knew every eye in the room was on them but she didn't care. She joined his rhythm and moved along with him. It seemed so natural, effortless. She was so lost in the feelings she was experiencing. There was only her and Spike and that music. Nothing else existed.
Song lyrics removed
Spike held her closer. He'd enjoyed the last few evenings. He'd enjoyed imagining the Slayer in his arms. But this was the real thing and so much better that his imagination. She was softer, harder, sweeter, more yielding that he could have imagined. The feel of her, her scent, her heartbeat, he was aware of nothing else. She moulded perfectly to him. He ached to brush his lips along her shoulder, bury his face in her hair, but he hadn't done those things on previous nights and he resisted. He would have given anything for that song to go on all night.
A few short minutes later the song ended. The dance floor started to fill up again. Spike stayed where he was, keeping his arms around Buffy for a few moments longer. But it was no good. It was over. Any second now, she'd pull away. But she didn't. Instead she whispered in his ear. "Let's go and get your coat."
He looked down into her green eyes in surprise, unsure of her meaning. Although he didn't realise it, his eyes showed his vulnerability at that moment. Buffy smiled and realised she was right. That dance had meant something to him.
He thought she'd implied getting his coat together. Did that mean she wanted them to leave together? No, couldn't mean that. Yet she was looking up at him, smiling gently and now she was gently pulling him by the arm to his table. She waited while he pulled on his trademark leather coat and then guided him to the door.
"What do you want, Slayer?" he asked, gruffly, suspicious of her intentions.
"I thought you might like to give me a lift home," she replied.
"And why would I want to do that?" he answered, determined not to fall into whatever trap she was laying for him. Because it had to be a trap. Didn't it?
"Because I thought you might like to come home with me," she replied, looking down, suddenly unsure.
Spike's grin lit up his face. He gently cupped her chin in his hand and raised her face so he could look into her eyes. He no longer cared what sort of trap she was laying. He had already fallen into it. And he didn't mind at all.
The End