What He Was, What She Deserves

Warm Champagne

"Hey handsome." Spike glanced up as the door to his crypt swung open to reveal a brunette chit, hand on her hip, leaning against the frame. She wore tight leather pants, a skimpy black crop top, and deep red lipstick. He didn't recognize her but something seemed familiar.

"Who the hell are you?" He slurred before taking a swig of bourbon right from the bottle. It burned the back of his throat. Even alcohol couldn't sear away the pain he felt tonight. Buffy had just rejected him once again. Nothing he did was good enough for the bint and she was still bent on the no soul, no dice idea. So lost in thought, it took a while before he was aware of the girl looking down at him. She had walked over to where he was seated in his chair.

"Does the phrase 'squeeze you till you popped like warm champagne' mean anything to you?" He glanced up at her in confusion. His eyes danced over her lean, hourglass form. He had never seen this woman in all his unlife, yet she knew of such a personal moment he'd shared with the slayer.

"Did Buffy put you up to this?"

She chuckled and crossed her arms. "You really think little miss tightly wound could throw down like that? C'mon! That was some of my best stuff!"

"That was you?" She nodded. He thought back to that night. Buffy had been acting strange, like she hadn't known who Spike was until he reminded her. William the Bloody with a chip in his head. I kind of love this town. It was all coming together piece by piece. "You're the other slayer, the one that switched bodies with Buffy. I thought you were in jail."

She shrugged. "Got bored. Theres only so much repent a gal can handle. Not here to cause trouble, just need... release." A seductive look passed over her face.

"Have a similar problem myself. Want a drink?" She grabbed the bottle, taking a seat in the nearest chair. After a long drink she tossed it back to him. They continued throwing it back and forth until the last drop was gone. It was quiet for a while as they mulled over their situation. Spike was obviously in some inner turmoil while Faith was just looking for a decent shag.

Faith was the one to break the silence. "So are we gonna do this or what?"

"What are you on about?"

"Gee, I was thinking we might explore the champagne metaphor but if you have other ideas..."

A low chuckle sounded in his throat. "I bet you have enough ideas for the both of us." He folded his arms behind his head.

"Man, I never pegged you as a guy who would just hand over the reins."

"There will be no 'reins' tonight, sweetheart. I'm not interested in the whole 'legs buckling, eyes rolling' gig."

Her lips spread into a smile. "Someone's got big bad vampire whipped. Have I ever mentioned how I love this town?"

"That might've came up, yeah. And I'm not whipped."

"Oh, but you so are! Now who's the girl that has you wrapped around her finger? Don't tell me it's one of the Scoobies 'cause that would be wicked ironic."

"Are you off you're bird? I'm not in love with Buffy!" He scoffed unconvincingly. Spike was never good at lying especially when it came to love. Always wearing his undead heart on his sleeve no matter what people thought of him. But Buffy was different. It was completely against his nature to fall for a vampire slayer; it was bloody humiliating really. To be thought of as soft or a proverbial 'white hat' made his demon itch for a bout of sparring.

"I never mentioned B. Or love." She remarked. "I guess it's worse than I thought. Who knew William the Bloody would fall for Blondie? Figures." She finished with a scoff. He could detect a hint of jealousy in her voice. His brows furrowed as he contemplated her blunt statement. It seemed strange how someone he barely knew could see right through him, expose what he was trying so hard to bury under unconvincing lies. Her eyes were attentively studying the floor of his crypt as she dragged the sole of her black boot in figure eights. She suddenly looked up at him. "Got any smokes?"

He nodded abruptly, and threw her the cigarettes and lighter stored in his duster pocket. She lit one and sighed, slumping in the chair. "Suppose it wouldn't be any use tryin' to hide my love for the slayer, eh?" Spike muttered, surrendering to her questioning stare.

She chuckled in response and shook her head. "Can read ya like an open book darlin'. What is it with you vamps drooling over B like she's some vixen? With you're experience I'd think you'd go for someone with more edge, ya know?" Her voice was rough with resentment. Buff really got on her nerves even when she wasn't out to stab her in the gut or send her to prison.

"Buffy," he sighed. "She's somethin' special. Even when she makes your whole body shake with rage, she still manages to make a bloke want her, love her with everything he's got till he turns to dust." His eyes filled with lust. "She just..." He stopped when Faith rolled her eyes and rose from her chair, flicking the cigarette at his Doc Martens. She stood in front of him for a moment, looking extremely brassed off. For what reason, he could only guess. She surveyed his feet with disgust then moved her gaze along his form, making him self conscious. When she reached his pure white hair, she tilted her head and frowned.

"If you think I came here to listen to your pathetic sob story then think again bleach boy." She fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. "If you really love her then what the hell are you doing, sitting on your ass smelling like days old bourbon?" A growl rumbled in his chest. All the emotions he'd suppressed for Buffy's sake began rising up. He began to recall the most recent moments of rejection, pain, sorrow, and failure he had felt when pursuing the slayer. But the only one that presented itself on the surface was rage. Suddenly, Faith was flattened against the wall of the crypt, Spike's palms lain flat against each side of her head. He glared at her, ignoring the warning buzz of the chip.

"You think I haven't tried! You think I haven't lain awake every night trying to figure the bitch out? She refuses to come into the dark, with me, where she belongs. Thinks I'm completely daft jus cause I don't have a bloody soul!" Pushing away from the wall, he stalked toward the fridge and swung the small white door open forcefully in an effort to focus on something else. It was completely empty. He loosened his stiff curls with his fingers and let out a shaky, unneeded breath. Trying to control his emotions was a struggle and without the chip he would've been either dust or a lot less hungry by now. The sound of the fridge shutting echoed sadly through the quiet crypt. "I want... to be... alone." He growled angrily through a locked jaw.

"That's more like it." She smirked. "Now, B might not like the aggression but I certainly am digging it." One step towards him was enough to put him on edge. His body tensed further the closer she got to him.

"That's quite close enough." He pressed his back against the cold wall. "I'm not interested in whatever your... offering. I.. I love Buffy ok?" A cocktail of frustration and arousal was brewing in his chest and he bit his lip trying to suppress it. The way the situation was heading wouldn't be helpful for him or his future with Buffy. She continued to seductively move toward him, her hips swaying slightly, and the smell of her arousal heavy in the air. When her hands trailed down his chiseled chest and stomach he gave her a defiant glare and slipped away to go sit in his chair, telly remote in hand. He raised his eyebrows at her. "Sod off, Passions is on." He told her, doing his best to sound casual. She looked taken aback, wondering how he could resist so easily.

"Never thought you'd be tamed. Guess Buffs got a strong leash." She walked towards the exit, stopping mid stride as a thought crossed her mind. Her head swiveled to look him in the eye. "You know, she's never gonna give in to darkness. Not for very long anyway. Maybe you should try going into the light for a change. "