[A/N: This one is, believe it or not, actually finished.  I wrote this all long-hand, and now am able to transcribe this because of a lovely friend who very, very generously lent me a laptop, because my desktop computer died a while ago, and because my finances are bordering on dire, I haven’t been able to purchase a new one. But I digress, and like my health, I’m sure none of you wants the ins and outs of all this.  Except to know that this is, in fact, finished.   So I just need to type, edit and post this sucker.  Which means maybe by the end of November 2014, this will be a finished piece.  But since this is me, I wouldn’t go holding your breath. Can anyone guess the connection between one of the songs in this chapter and the Buffyverse?  Disclaimers, as always, are in full force and effect.  I own nothing.]  

Thirteen


Dawn didn’t think she’d ever recover from the sight, nor could she do anything to stifle the laughter.  Tears were running down her cheeks and she couldn’t breathe deeply enough to gasp out any words.  
Giles was hard pressed to stem the tide of his own laughter, barely suppressing the mirth, even under Buffy’s almost stern look.

“Bloody hell.  Think I need to scrub my eyes.”  Spike shook his head, trying is best to avoid looking at either Dawn or Giles.  He blinked twice, shaking his head in disbelief.  “Never thought ‘d see this.”

The other members of their group stared at the stage in equal amounts of disbelief.

Angel – or someone doing a brilliant impersonation of the broody vampire – was onstage, microphone in front of him, backing singers, dancers, and a full salsa band behind him.  They’d just finished a rendition of “Black Magic Woman” and were gearing up to start another song when Angel swivelled his hips like he was channeling Elvis Presley and Spike couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer.  

The band played a few notes, and Angel – if it even was him – started dancing with a pair of scantily clad females.

And if that wasn’t enough, he started singing.

“She's into superstitions black cats and voodoo dolls.”  Tara stole a look over at Spike, who was nearly convulsed with laughter.  Her own features twisted into a grin and then when the singing continued, she giggled into her hand.

“I feel a premonition that girl's gonna make me fall.  She's into new sensations new kicks in the candle light.  She's got a new addiction for every day and night.”  Not even Buffy could stop the giggles at this point.  What they were seeing was beyond hilarious, and none of them could stop laughing.

“She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain.  She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away your pain, like a bullet to your brain. Come On!”

The band and the dancers swung into the chorus, as the Angel look-alike – because by now they all realized whoever was singing couldn’t possibly really be Angel – grabbed one of the dancers and started dancing.  “Upside, inside out, she's livin la vida loca.  She'll push and pull you down, livin la vida loca.  Her lips are devil red and her skin's the color mocha, she will wear you out livin la vida loca . . . Come On!  Livin la vida loca . . . Come on!  She's livin la vida loca.”

Once they got a good look at the dancer ‘Angel’ had chosen, Spike was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was leaning back against a wall, nearly doubled over.  The dancer, who was wearing a tiny, slinky red dress with sparkly accents and long fringe, looked exactly like Drusilla.   

Giles was in worse shape than Spike, unable to breathe because of the laughter.  His side was beginning to ache and every time he looked up at the stage, the laughter started again.  

“Woke up in New York City in a funky cheap hotel, she took my heart and she took my money
she must've slipped me a sleeping pill!”  Willow couldn’t close her mouth, completely dumbfounded by what she was viewing.  Glancing over at Buffy she asked in a baffled tone, “Did you know he could sing?”

Buffy shook her head, trying hard to answer between her giggles.  “He . . .  Can’t.”    Spike choked around his laughs, adding,  “Can’t sing to save his life.  ‘S why this is so funny.”

“She never drinks the water and makes you order French Champagne. . . Once you've had a taste of her you'll never be the same.  Yeah, she'll make you go insane.  She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain.”

The chorus started up again, and this time, the dancer made up to resemble Drusilla had changed into a dress that looked like it was composed of only spider webs and glittery sparkles.  She was practically naked and the stagelights hit all the right spots.  Spike was laughing too hard to even notice.  
 
“She'll make you live her crazy life, but she'll take away your pain like a bullet to your brain!  Come On!  Upside, inside out, she's livin la vida loca.  She'll push and pull you down, livin la vida loca.  Her lips are devil red and her skin's the color mocha, she will wear you out livin la vida loca . . . Come On!  Livin la vida loca . . . Come on!  She's livin la vida loca.”

The dancing slowed minutely, and ‘Angel’ crooned into the microphone.  “I feel a premonition that girl's gonna make me fall. She's into new sensations new kicks in the candle light.  She's got a new addiction for every day and night.”  Then the music swelled and sped up, rocking into the chorus again.  “She'll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain.  She'll make you live her crazy life but she'll take away your pain, like a bullet to your brain. Come On!  Upside, inside out she's livin la vida loca . . .She'll push and pull you down, livin la vida loca . . .Her lips are devil red and her skin's the color mocha. . . She will wear you out – livin la vida loca!  Come On!  Livin la vida loca, Come on! She's livin la vida loca.”

When the last strains of the song died out, the Scoobies and Spike weren’t the only ones in the audience – though they were the only ones laughing.  The number got a standing ovation and, marked the end of the group’s set.  After numerous bows and kisses thrown at the crowd, the ensemble left the stage.  It was then that Anya spied Xander being led to a table up front.  

She grabbed Buffy’s arm convulsively, her nails digging painfully into the Slayer’s skin.  “There he is!  Look!  There!”

Buffy’s gaze followed the ex-demon’s pointed finger.  “Oh my god.  What the hell is he wearing?”

Cyd had taken one look at Xander earlier and, unfortunately for him, changed his mind.  Unlike the other gentlemen populating the club, Xander was wearing an outfit that would’ve looked more appropriate on one of the performers.  Or a Flamenco dancer.  Buffy wasn’t sure.

“Bloody Hell!  That poor sod.”  Spike caught a glimpse and nearly spewed out the drink he’d snagged from one of the waiters.  

Xander’s pants were high-waisted, with a gold silk belt that hung down against the outside of one leg.  He was also wearing a vest sporting gaudy gold buttons and a ruffled red shirt.  What really set him apart was the wide brimmed hat – and although the colors complimented him – he looked utterly ridiculous, out of place and in an outfit that didn’t suit him at all.

Spike and Anya started humming and Spike crooned out, “His grace has ebbed, his class is low . . . his ears are webbed, but even so. . .”

Anya joined him, “You must know. . .”

Spike stopped singing, just humming away in the background, while Anya sung the next few lines, “That although our tears are poised to burst, we’ve kept our faith warm through the worst.  We haven’t cursed our luck or run amuck – to prayer we’ve stuck. . . Please reward our pluck!”

But Spike cut off her ending, his singing earning him a light slap from Buffy for his language. “And save this poor dumb fuck!”

“So what do we do now?”  Dawn broke the uncomfortable silence surrounding their group.

“He’s surrounded by at least three guards.”  Spike counted them off, pointing out their locations.

Buffy’s gaze hardened, her eyes alighting on each of the guards.  They were the same bubble-headed henchmen that had kidnapped Dawn and attacked them.

While Buffy gauged the strength of Xander’s immediate guards, Spike scanned the rest of the room.  “Two more at the back.”

“Three more stage left.”  Giles added his count.

“Another two at the bar.”  Spike kept scanning.  “Four at the front of the house.”

“We really need a plan, don’t you think?”  Tara asked softly, so as not to be overheard by anyone around them.”

“Agreed.”  Giles guided her and Dawn to a nearby empty table.  Willow hesitated momentarily, then sat on Tara’s left.  Giles sat beside her, and Spike held out the chair next to Dawn.  “Sit, pet, while we suss this out.”

Anya grabbed the seat next to Giles, her eyes focused on the oblivious form of her fiancé.  Buffy hesitated, but at a frown from her sister, she gracefully sat in the chair Spike offered.  Her whispered thank you went unnoticed by most of their companions.  

Spike smiled briefly, then took his own seat.


&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


“I think it best if we let Buffy and Spike handle the muscle.”  Giles discreetly indicated the minions at various points throughout the hall.  “The rest of us can attempt to free Xander while the guards are distracted.”

“Good plan.”  Buffy absently nodded her agreement.  “Just stick close to Giles, okay?” She directed her last comment to her sister, who grimaced, but agreed.

“Everyone ready?”  At the nods and assents, Giles motioned Buffy and Spike away.  

They dispatched the first four minions easily – almost too easily for Spike’s piece of mind.  Buffy barely spoke to him, reverting to her recently normal air of fuzzy detachment.  “Want to pay attention, love?

“Huh?”  She distractedly punched her current opponent, her mind obviously not on the task at hand.

Spike felled his, then grasped her shoulders.  “Christ, Slayer, get your head on straight.  Otherwise you’ll lose it.”

Buffy gaped at him.  “Why do you care?  You’re a vampire.  You shouldn’t care at all.”

With an exasperated shake of his head, Spike growled lowly.  “Buggered if I know.  ‘Ve tried to shake this . . . Understand me.”

His voice went low, coming from deep within his chest and the sound of it reverberated through her.  “I'm not going down on my knees, begging you to adore me.  Can't you see it's misery and torture for me.  When I'm misunderstood, try as hard as you can, I've tried as hard as I could to make you see . . .How important it is for me.”

The Slayer stared at him, the words of his song replaying in her brain as she tried to understand what he was saying.  “Here is a plea, from my heart to you.  Nobody knows me as well as you do.  You know how hard it is for me to shake the disease that takes hold of my tongue in situations like these.”

He pressed his hand over his heart after slugging one of the minions, his voice barely above a soft murmur.  “Understand me.”

A wry look crossed his features as he sang the next words.  “Some people have to be permanently together; Lovers devoted to each other forever.  Now I've got things to do . . .”  He beat on another minion, pointing out a third to her.  “And I've said before that I know you have too.  When I'm not there, in spirit I'll be there.”  

“Here is a plea, from my heart to you.  Nobody knows me as well as you do.  You know how hard it is for me to shake the disease that takes hold of my tongue in situations like these.”  His eyes bored into hers, willing her to understand the meaning behind the words.  “Understand me.”

The music faded into the background and a look of complete chagrin crossed his features.  “Buggering bloody hell!”  Embarrassed and pissed at himself, Spike looked for a diversion.  “Best go help demon-girl.”

Instead of immediately engaging and helping Anya with the minions attacking her, Buffy found herself watching Spike.  Her voice was soft, barely loud enough for anyone else to hear her. “ I don't know how to love him.  What to do, how to move him.  I've been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days, when I've seen myself, I seem like someone else.  I don't know how to take this. I don't see why he moves me. He's a vamp. He's just a vamp.”

Anya was forced back to where Buffy was standing, and she heard the Slayer’s soft singing.  Interrupting before Buffy could continue, Anya sang, “And I've had so many men before, in very many ways . . . He's just one more.”

The girls traded off the next lines, neither one of them focusing on the demons and Scoobies fighting all around them.  

“Should I bring him down?”  Buffy punched one of the minions, knocking his head back.
 
Anya ducked as another demon swung a chair at her.  “Should I scream and shout?  Should I speak of love, let my feelings out?”

Both girls sang together as they fought a single demon.  “I never thought I'd come to this.  What's it all about?”

Anya grabbed at Buffy’s arm, hiding behind her as two demons attacked them.  “Don't you think it's rather funny, I should be in this position? I'm the one who's always been so calm, so cool, no lover's fool, running every show.”

They sang the next line together.  “He scares me so.”

“I never thought I'd come to this – What's it all about?”  Buffy sang alone, her voice gaining power as the words became more heartfelt.  “Yet, if he said he loved me, I'd be lost. I'd be frightened. I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.  I'd turn my head – I'd back away, I wouldn't want to know.  He scares me so.”

Anya stole a look at the Slayer, a thoughtful look on her features.  “I want him so.  I love him so.”

So softly, almost so softly that Anya wasn’t ever sure she’d heard her, Buffy sang the last lines along with her.


 &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


Somehow, despite all the confusion and chaos, they managed to free Xander from Sweet’s minions.  
Dawn’s dress was ripped, some of the ruffles hanging on by mere threads; Anya had broken one of  her heels, and Tara’s feather boa was wrapped around the neck of two demons.  

But Xander was free.  His arms were wrapped around both Anya and Willow and he was grinning broadly.  “Thanks, guys.”

Several voices rang out,  “You’re welcome”, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.  However, it was Spike’s comment,  “Was a doodle. But unless we all want to star in our own Broadway nightmare, we’d best get moving”, that had them all heading for the door.

Dawn ripped off the ruffles, balling them together and tossing them aside.  “Yeah.  Can we go home now?”

“We should head back to the flat.”  Giles herded the group forward, away from the nightclub.

Less than two blocks into their walk, Anya was already complaining.  “Why can’t we just borrow a car.  Or let Willow conjure one up?  Why?”

“We can’t just borrow a car.  That would be stealing.”  Willow snapped at Anya, without waiting for anyone else to reply.

“Why not?  It was okay to conjure up these clothes.  Why can’t we get our old clothes back and you can just magic up a car.”

Willow tried again, but Giles held up his hand.  “To forestall any further bickering, and thus sparing my aching head, yes.  Let’s borrow a car.”

“Giles!”  Willow exclaimed, gearing up for another rant, before his voice cut her off.  “Enough, Willow.”

Spike was already behind the wheel of a nearby Packard, grinning widely.  “C’mon, people, meter’s running.”



Liner Notes:

Livin La Vida Loca: lyrics and music by Desmond Child and Draco Rosa.  Sung by Ricky Martin, and released on his self-titled English speaking debut album in 1999.  Wildly popular, this song was single-handedly responsible for the explosion of Latin artists onto the English pop charts.

Prayer for a Duck: from the musical Pippin, lyrics and music by Stephen Schwartz.  Debuted on Broadway on 23 October 1972, and was choreographed and directed by the legendary Bob Fosse.  The part of Pippin was played by John Rubenstein, and later, during the current revival, Rubenstein returned in the role of Pippin’s father.   I have taken the liberty of replacing some of the lyrics with my poor attempt to fit the song into the story.  My apologies to Mr. Schwartz.  

Shake the Disease: by Depeche Mode, released 29 April 1985 on the album The Singles 81– 85; written by Martin Gore.  Covered by Hooverphonic and Tingsek; but the best cover version has to be by DMK, a band consisting of Dicken Schrader and his two children, Milah and Korben and played on regular household utensils and toys.  Check it out on YouTube.  It’s bloody brilliant.

I Don’t Know How to Love Him: from the musical Jesus Christ Superstar; music by Andrew Lloyd Weber and lyrics by Tim Rice.  Originally conceived as a concept album (and not an actual musical play) the album was recorded first, and Yvonne Elliman (who later originated the role of Mary Magdalene on Broadway) sung for the album.  The original album was released in 1970, the Broadway production debuted on 21 October 1971.  Covered by Helen Reddy and Petula Clark, and numerous others in revivals and Broadway tribute albums.  To this day, it remains one of my favorite songs to sing.