Chapter 1 - 80's Movies Are the Source of All Evil
"This place is really cool!" Buffy said to Willow while looking out over
Those who weren't used to seeing nightclubs without the darkness and the
colored spotlights often found them disappointing sights. They often looked
like big storage rooms, and all the sleazy details became all-too visible
in the fluorescent light, like the chewing gum trampled into the carpet,
and the alcohol stains on the sofas and the chairs. But as Buffy looked
out over Seven, she saw the potential. She had been here several times,
and this was indeed a really amazing club.
It was built in several levels, and had three separate dance floors, but
there were also areas quiet enough for talking and relaxing. The bright
colors and the lighting gave the place a futuristic look. It was always
packed, and vibrating with the heavy techno, club, and house music. Lately
it had quickly become *the* place to be, simply because it had that indefinable
atmosphere that marked the distinct difference between a good club and
a great one.
Buffy felt more than happy that she had gotten this job, not to mention
incredibly lucky. One of the bartenders had recently been fired for stealing
from the register, and she was pretty much needed right away. It was only
about a week and a half since she had called Willow, and she was already
getting the introduction. Good thing she wasn't the only one in a crisis
situation, she thought as they proceeded through the room.
They passed a half-circle-shaped bar, painted in a bright orange with
scattered embedded squares of thick glass. On the wall there was a big
collection of all sorts of alcohol, bottles in all shapes and colours.
In the area around the bar there were a number of small, round tables,
made for standing at. To the left there was a big round dance floor, with
a small stage for live performances.
"Here's one of the places you’ll be working at," Willow said while nodding
towards the bar. "There's one on all four floors."
They continued up S-shaped stairs, covered in an orange carpet that matched
the color of the bar. On both sides of the stairs there were curved spaces
that held a number of large, green plants, lit up from beneath by a number
of spotlights. From this position Buffy looked over another area of the
first floor. A wave-shaped wall, a few feet high, created a partly secluded
area with booths that were separated from each other by semi-transparent
colored walls. The floor was scattered with tables made of a white frosted
material, and with built-in lighting in the middle of each table. They
were matched with high chairs that looked more pretty than comfortable.
Flat, square orange lamps lighted the white walls.
When they came to the top of the stairs they were standing on an almost
identical floor, only with a yellow theme instead of an orange one.
As Buffy looked out over the room she spotted a few employees busy with
different chores. Two young women were busy carrying trays of bottles
into a room next to the bar, and she could hear the sound of someone vacuuming
somewhere in the back of the room.
"That's Tracy and Joan," Willow said while pointing towards the girls.
"Tracy's nice, and Joan is... um... Joan," she whispered.
Buffy had opened her mouth to comment on Willow's assessment, as a couple
of guys, absorbed in a private conversation, exited from the door where
Tracy and Joan had disappeared. She recognized one of them as Xander.
"Christ, give it up, mate!" the other man said while smiling. He reluctantly
caught a bottle that came spinning through the air. "Or at least don't
walk while doin' it!" The source of the British voice was a peroxide blond
man. He was wearing a pair of black jeans, and a matching black t-shirt
that left little of the muscles underneath to the imagination. High cheekbones
and bright, blue eyes perfected the ruggedly handsome impression.
Buffy noticed her pulse quickening. She couldn't help getting a dreamy
look in her eyes. God, that blond guy was gorgeous!
"No, I'm sure I can pull this of!" Xander answered while yanking the bottle
from his friend's hand. His brown hair was just a little bit too long,
and fell into his eyes when he turned his head. He was a friendly-looking
guy, though obviously with a somewhat questionable fashion sense. If Hawaiian
shirts could be considered fashion.
As they got behind the bar, the blond guy pulled out a cutting board and
a basket with lemons, while somewhat anxiously glancing towards the other
man, who once more sent the bottle spinning through the air.
"If Tom Cruise can do it, I can," Xander said with a voice that revealed
great concentration. He clumsily caught it before it almost crashed into
the register. "Might be some kind of supernatural scientology power involved,"
The other man flinched, then picked up a large knife and started cutting
the lemons in thin slices. "Well, I don't bloody well see you tryin' to
perform breakin' and enterin' in government server rooms either, so give
it a rest."
Xander once more sent the bottle into the air; it spun around a few times,
and then headed in a direct trajectory towards the blond man's head. As
he spotted it heading his way, he quickly jumped back, letting it crash
into the counter. The smashed bottle sprayed its content over both employees.
While escaping the imminent bottle-accident, the blond man had accidentally
dropped the knife, which twirled through the air, and then fell to the
floor, burrowing itself in the wooden flooring between his feet.
Soaking wet with alcohol, he stared furiously up at the Cruise wannabe
next to him "Bloody hell! Are you tryin' to make me a eunuch!?"
"Um...No." The bottle thrower looked a bit jittery. "But I heard that
that Bobbit guy made a lot of money doing weird porn... " he joked while
shaking his soaking sleeves.
"I'm happy with my career, thank you very much!" the blond one yelled.
"Not planning to get into the amputee porn business any time soon!"
At this point Willow cleared her throat, getting the attention of the
soaked men. "Alcohol isn't a toy, you know." She crossed her arms and
looked mock serious. "And think of all the kids in Africa who haven't
got any Jack Daniels."
There was an embarrassing moment of silence. Both men looked like five-year-olds
who had been caught scaring the neighbor's cat with firecrackers. "This
is all Jerry Bruckheimer's fault!" Xander finally blurted out while holding
his hands up defensively. "And I'm sticking with that story!"
"You wanker," Spike sighed. "Jerry Bruckheimer didn't make Cocktail."
"What do you know, British guy?" Xander said accusingly, while pointing
his finger at the other bartender.
"He made all those other 80's movies, like Top Gun and Flash Dance. Not
Cocktail," he stated confidently.
"Ok, Then I'm blaming..." He looked questioning at the blond man. "Who
am I blaming...?"
Once more Willow cleared her throat. "Focus, guys! We have a new co-worker
- Buffy. She starts working here on Saturday." The bickering men ended
their trivia battle and turned their attention towards the two amused
women on the other side of the bar.
"Wow," Buffy said to Willow while raising an eyebrow. "Must be like working
in a sitcom."
"Too bad then that I'm not getting paid like Jennifer Aniston," Willow
pouted. "Ok, you have met Xander."
"Hi there, Buffster!" Xander said, waving his hand.
"Buffster?" Willow laughed.
"Well, she needs a nickname," he defended himself. "So she feels like
one of the gang."
"Christ, this isn't Happy Days!" The blond man cocked his head and smiled.
"Buffy sounds just fine to me."
Buffy couldn't help blushing a little bit. His smile was gorgeous too.
"Your savior from nickname hell is Spike." Willow pointed towards the
peroxide bartender. "Well, actually it's William," she whispered, loud
enough for him to hear. "But don't call him that, it makes him cranky."
"Hey, I heard that!" The muscles in Spike's jaws were twitching.
"Ooh, did I hurt poor William's feelings?" she taunted.
"Hey, watch it!"
Willow giggled at the adolescent behavior of her colleagues. "Ok, Buffy,
we don't have time for this." She looked at her watch. "The boss is waiting
She started walking towards the stairs to the third floor, and Buffy followed
reluctantly, ignoring the stubborn pull of the butterflies in her belly.
"See you guys!" Buffy said while waving goodbye, taking a last glance
at Spike. As they left, she heard the men's voices fading behind them:
"But Coyote Ugly? That's definitely Jerry Bruckheimer!"
"Should I expect you to start practicing wet t-shirt dancin' on the bar,
"They are kind of corny, but nice to be around, and, believe it or not,
actually good bartenders," Willow said as she and Buffy passed through
a floor with a green design. In the back of the room there was a door
labeled "Staff Only.” They walked into a short corridor, to a door with
the name "Stevensson" on it.
"We're opening soon, so I have to go downstairs and do the last preparations,"
Willow sighed. "Oh, and about the party at Riley's tomorrow, should I
come by and pick you up at eight?”
"Well, since you're volunteering to be the designated driver..."
Willow frowned a little. "Good old faithful, huh?"
"Nope," Buffy smiled. "Remember last week when you refused to drive some
stuff for Xander?"
"Oh, you mean not agreeing to pick up the huge collection of vintage Playboys
he bought on eBay at the post office?" Willow giggled. "Yeah, I could
practically hear god erase my name from the guest list in heaven." Both
"Ok, enough of Casual Buffy. Time for Work Buffy." Buffy put on her serious
"You're right. Good luck with the boss"
"Yeah. Good luck with the margaritas."
As Willow turned and walked back through the corridor, Buffy took a breath
and knocked. A few seconds later the door was yanked open, and a tall,
smiling black man stood in front of her.
"Hi, you must be Buffy!" he said while enthusiastically shaking her hand
with a sweaty palm. "Please, come in!"
As they started discussing regulations and schedules, her mind slipped
back to the sexy bleached bartender with the beautiful blue eyes. Yeah,
this job was definitely going to be interesting.
* * * * * *
Buffy jumped clumsily on one foot while attempting the art of putting
on a shoe at the same time as she was getting the door. The un-tied ribbons
of her halter top flapped around her neck, and she had a couple of hair
pins sticking out of her mouth. "Coming, coming," she mumbled through
"Running late, are we?" Willow said as Buffy opened the door. She was
standing in the hallway, dressed in a knee-long maroon dress made of a
silky material. Her hair was pinned up in a tangled knot, and she was
wearing hints of subtle makeup.
"There were extenuating circumstances," Buffy said cheerfully as she removed
the pins from her mouth and walked over to the hallway mirror.
"Sex and the City-related extenuating circumstances?" Willow asked, smiling.
"Sort of," Buffy admitted.
"I'm guessing that there was sex?"
"Duh!" Buffy tied the straps of her top. "Tada! Party setting - on!" Dressed
in a pastel blue top, a white skirt, and white sandals, she was simply
"Wow, you look gorgeous!" Willow complimented. "Is there someone special
you plan to impress? ’Cause in that case I'm officially offended about
being left out of the drooling-loop."
"Nope. Nobody special." At least not that's is going to be within impressing-range
tonight, she added silently. "Let's go. Party time!"
Buffy grabbed her purse and walked out to Willow, who was still standing
in the hallway. As they started walking down the hall, Willow suddenly
smacked her forehead in a classic cartoonmanner. "Oh, I forgot to ask
you! Is it ok to bring a few people to this party? It's not a ’co-workers,
and possibly their best friends only’ thing, right?
"No, I don't think so. Why?" Buffy said as she pushed the elevator button.
"Well, Spike and Xander were kind of bored, and they wanted to come along.
Is that ok? I was going to call you today and ask, but I completely forgot."
Buffy could feel her heart taking a big jump in her chest. "Um... that
won't be a problem. Not at all."
The doors to the elevator opened, and they stepped in.
"Really?" Willow looked embarrassed. "’Cause I kind of told them to go
there unless you said no."
"Parties are made for meeting new people, right?" Buffy said as the elevator
let out a friendly 'ping.’ "And new people are kind of a requirement for
They walked out into warm, starry night, and crossed the street, heading
towards Willow's car. "So Willow, I was thinking..." Buffy said smiling.
"This Spike guy. You know him well?"
"Oooh!" Willow piped, pointing an accusing finger at Buffy. "Not 'someone
"Well... not at the party, as far as I knew." Buffy grinned. "So I'm home
As they got into the car, Buffy smiled enthusiastically. "Still waiting
for Spike info here."
"Sorry." Willow said with an empathetic grimace. "He's taken."
Oh crap. "Well, obviously." Buffy slumped back into her seat in pouting
"Well, it's not like he's all great anyway," Willow said, trying to be
comforting. "He's got really terrible taste in music, there's kind of
an attitude problem. And, oh! He's got stupid hair!"
Buffy sulked. "Why are all the pretty guys always taken?"
"Well," Willow stated matter of factly as she turned the car towards the
main road. "Because they’re pretty?"
* * * * * *
"I'm guessing that this is the place,” Xander said as they spotted the
herd of cars outside a big apartment building. Sounds of music and laughter
came from an open window on the second floor.
"Well, yeah." They got out of Xander's rusty old Volvo, and Spike lit
a cigarette, puffing out a small cloud of smoke.
"I hope Buffy and Willow are here already. It's not like we know anyone
else at the party."
"Oh, come on!" Spike said with the cigarette bobbing in the corner of
his mouth, "Don't be a chicken!" He cheerfully slapped Xander's back and
started walking to the front door with his friend trailing behind him.
Spikes trademark black coat fluttered around him, giving him that cool
superhero look. As always, he walked almost like a big predator, and radiated
a natural confidence.
A couple of women who stood outside the entrance smoking ogled Spike relentlessly
as he came their way. Before he and Xander got inside, Spike took one
last, long huff at the cigarette and leaned over next to the girls to
drop it in the water-filled jar that functioned as a temporary ashtray.
"Hi, girls," he said with a cocky grin, causing them to giggle. Xander
couldn't help throwing a jealous glare at his buddy.
"What was the guy's name again?" Spike said as they made their way up
the stairs towards the music.
"Um...Riley something." Xander pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his
"Riley Finn? What kind of a poofter name is that? Oh, here it is." Spike
opened the door.
"Must be a rich poofter though," Xander said as he looked in at the roomy
apartment. The place
was filled with people, talking, drinking and eating tiny scraps of food
jammed on toothpicks. This was clearly a party that had outgrown its original
purpose as a work related get-together.
"Well in that case it's our duty to eat as many snacks as possible," Spike
grinned. "You know, for the sake of the proletariat. Or somethin'." Spike
laid his coat on the big pile of jackets that had formed after the hangers
and hooks had run out.
Xander threw a lusting eye at a group of pretty girls who were socializing
in the living room. "Well, if you’ll excuse me, I'll go and make a fool
out of myself," he joked.
"You do that," Spike chuckled. As Xander disappeared into the crowd, Spike
surveyed the place and sighed. This seemed like one of those parties with
a few too many dull guys and stuck-up women. It was clearly more of a
gin and tonic type of party than a beer and pretzels affair. As he was
getting ready to resign himself to a dull evening of finger food and boring
conversations, he spotted The New Girl through the crowd, leaning against
a doorpost. She was absent-mindedly fiddling with an empty glass, looking
terribly bored. Well, she might be fun, he thought, and headed her way.
Buffy sighed and stared down at her empty glass. She didn't know that
it was humanly possible to be this bored at a party. And hanging about
all alone made her feel like a total looser. Her friends and co-workers
had all managed to end up with cliques of people she didn't know and didn't
find interesting. Even Willow had abandoned her. She had ended up on a
sofa, flirting with some guy. Good old faithful, huh?
"Either you're bored to death, or that glass is really interestin'."
The sound of the British voice through the noise and music jolted her
out of her self pity. As she turned towards him, her brain buzzed a little
from attraction, but she also felt the twinge of disappointment in her
gut. Stupid non-single guy, she thought to herself.
"Well, I'm going with a) "bored to death,” she smiled a little at her
peroxide co-worker. "How about you? Feeling suicidal yet?"
"Nope." He leaned back on the opposing side of the doorpost, crossing
his arms. "But I just got here, so if you wait for a while I'm sure I'll
start scramblin' for prescription pills in the bathroom in no time."
"So, you're Spike, huh?", Buffy said after a moment of silence, grinning.
"I'd love to know where that nickname came from."
"Sounds like you're expectin' some cool and/or kinky answer to that?"
"In that case: I got it as an alter ego when I was working in the porn
business..." He paused, smiling. "No, actually it’s a hair related thing."
"The porn explanation was better," Buffy pouted. "You know, one could
make lots of money in that business, at least on amputee porn. Or so I've
"Bringin' up traumatic incidents, are we?" Spike laughed at Buffy's boldness.
"Oh puh-leease. Little Spike is intact. Don't think that you need crisis
counseling." Buffy suddenly caught a sad gaze out of the corner of her
eye. It seemed like Riley finally had spotted her, and wasn't too happy
with what he saw. Note to self, she thought, have a talk with Riley.
"So, what do you do at boring parties?" Spike sighed, and leaned his head
back against the doorpost.
"Well," Buffy mimicked his slouching position. "Sometimes when I'm bored,
I make up stories about the people around me. Like what they work with
"Ok," Spike said as he gazed out over the guests. "That one." He pointed
at a tall, skinny man in a grey shirt.
"Hm..." She tilted her head, thinking. "He's a nurse. With a secret shoe
Spike smiled. "That girl over there. The blonde one. She's a chef at some
sleazy restaurant, and spits in the soup of rude customers. She collects
vintage plates with cat motifs, and kind of has the hots for Captain Kirk.
As they continued talking and laughing, Buffy soon forgot her jealous
mood in the comfort of Spike's company.
* * * * * *
With a big yawn, Spike unlocked the door. Home sweet home, he thought.
As he closed the door he fell back against it with a thump, rubbing his
face tiredly with his hands. He smiled a little, recalling tonight's events.
That Buffy girl sure was a blast. Spike couldn't remember the last time
he had had this much fun.
He squinted through the dark hallway, which was only illuminated by the
stray light from the bedside lamp in the bedroom. The digital clock by
the phone said 4:32. Bed time, he thought to himself, and headed towards
Passing the bedroom, he suddenly felt a pair of arms encircling his waist.
Spike gasped from the surprise, then sighed as arms pulled him back against
the warm body behind him. "I thought you were out of town," Spike breathed
as he felt soft lips trailing a path down his neck.
"I was. Now I'm not." The warm breaths against his skin quickly made him
forget his tiredness, and his eyes closed as compelling hands caressed
the muscles on his chest and abdomen. The whispering voice against his
ear made him shiver. "I need that hot, tight body of yours." Spike felt
himself being slowly maneuvered into the bedroom.
In one quick move, Spike's shirt was off, and he felt a tongue trailing
up the length of his spine; Spike arched his body back against the touch.
"Mm...you taste so good," the voice continued. "Like sex and decadence."
Skilled fingers caressed Spike's nipples, eliciting a loud moan.
"I want you on the bed. Now." Two seconds later Spike was pinned down
on the mattress, a punishing mouth covering his. Their lips were battling
furiously, their tongues sliding wetly around each other.
They parted for a moment, and he vaguely noticed that clothes were coming
off. A sweater fell to the bed and pants and underwear dropped in a pile
at the floor. Spike closed his eyes in anticipation. He was panting heavily,
and arousal was burning its way through his body like a rapidly progressing
forest fire. Spike could feel the weight of knees and hands in the mattress
on both sides of his body. He kept still, feeling the lustful gazes roaming
over his body. A tingle crept down his spine from the proximity of bare
skin, so close, but not touching.
Warm breath suddenly hit his face. Spike felt the faintest touch of lips
grazing his mouth. He arced up, desperately trying to gain contact, but
the other body remained elusive. "Do you want me?" The words slipped out
almost inaudible between lips that were barely touching. It was more of
a statement than a question.
"Yes!" Spike gasped.
As lips and tongue started moving seductively down Spike's lean and muscular
body he was quickly engulfed by passion, forgetting everything but the
touch, the way it made his body feel, the way his skin was humming underneath
the smooth, wet friction. Proficient hands quickly removed the last pieces
of Spike's clothes. He felt forceful fingertips setting out a path down
the side of his body, and almost unconsciously he bent his legs to provide
better access. He wanted more. More skin, more lips, more touching in
all the right places. He had never felt like this with anyone else. Like
sex was art, and he was the canvas.
Skilled fingers move slowly up the inside of his thigh, lips trailing
south, tasting him enthusiastically like he was a nummy treat, coated
with chocolate. Then suddenly the hand and mouth was gone. Spike whimpered
from the loss of contact. As he opened his eyes he met a demanding gaze,
filled with uncompromising want. The mouth of his lover was hovering only
an inch from his throbbing member. Spike knew how this game was played.
"Please," he whispered with a trembling voice.
He heard the sound of a cap opening. Seconds later the most talented mouth
and tongue he'd ever experienced devoured him to the hilt, and he soon
felt two slick fingers slip inside of him. He flung his head back against
the pillow, and arched his body in pleasure.
"Angel!" he moaned.
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