Banner by Alex

Man in Black II

Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or anything else of the sort, no matter how cool it would be to own Spike. Only the plot and any original characters are mine.

Summary: Sequel to Man in Black, of course. Is Spike only out to get his duster back?

Author’s Note: There seemed to be a resounding vote for a sequel. Good thing I had a plotbunny, huh? Yes, this will be a chaptered fic, not another one-shot. And I would like to thank my betas for their help: 2zen2, Ruth, and Marzbar.

---

The air in the bar was heavy with smoke and throbbing with the pulse of the music playing. Buffy ran a hand through her hair, squinting at the crowd on the dance floor before looking back towards Faith to watch as her roommate worked. The brunette was getting pretty talented, learning all kinds of new moves to use as she tended bar. She just seemed to be in her element.

A rustling next to Buffy alerted her to the fact that someone had seated themselves on the open stool there.

“I see you started without me,” Anya said as she waved towards Faith. “Judging by your choice of drink, I’d say that you didn’t have a spectacular day at the bookstore. Want to talk about it?”

“Oh, it’s no big.” Buffy made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Mr. Giles is an awesome boss. It’s just another horrible day in the retail industry where I have to unfortunately deal with, well, customers. It would be so much better without them.”

“And just think, B, you like to go shopping and I’m sure the salespeople say the same about you.” Faith grinned as she set Anya’s usual drink in front of her.

Anya sipped at the drink before speaking again. “You need to go out and find a guy to give you orgasms. That’ll make you feel better.”

The other two girls just groaned before Faith moved off to serve some other patrons. Buffy let the remark go, as she usually did when Anya made her orgasm comments. Her eyes went back towards the crowd of bodies moving to the music at the front of the room.

Unable to help it, Buffy’s mind wandered back to the events months before. Halloween.
She had fled the apartment of that man—no, that monster—and rushed back towards the haunted house to find her friends. There had been a swarm of cop cars and she had eventually located Faith and Anya among them. Relief had filled her at seeing them alive, glad she hadn’t left them to die. They said they had woken up in the alley and had been worried about her when they couldn’t find her.

She didn’t tell them what had happened to her, feigning a bit of amnesia. None of them really had any idea of what had happened and the police, to this day, weren’t saying anything either. The deaths Buffy had witnessed seemed to have been swept away and forgotten.

Since then, Buffy had graduated college and gotten a job at a bookstore in town. She was hoping to save up to one day get her own business. Her dream was a gym for women, and she was determined to achieve it someday.

But, in no way was she letting herself dwell on what had happened with that...guy. As far as she was concerned he had dropped off the face of the earth. He ceased to exist the moment she left. If only her brain was as convinced as she wanted it to be. If that was the case, his duster wouldn’t be hanging suspiciously close to her bed.

Buffy was brought sharply out of her thoughts when someone sat on the other side of her. She looked up and found a handsome, brunette man smiling down at her. He was tall, much taller than her man in black had been and this man was darker as opposed to bleached hair and blue eyes.

Stop that! she mentally hissed at herself.

“Hello,” the man said and extended his hand. “My name’s Liam. Can I buy you another drink?”

Buffy looked down at her glass then back up at him, taking his hand. “Sure, Liam; I’m Buffy.”

Giving her a wide, pleased grin, Liam made a motion to Faith to get her attention while Buffy looked over her shoulder at Anya. A thumbs up was shot in her direction and she turned back towards Liam who was holding out her drink.

“So, are you a local or just going to school...or visiting?” he asked conversationally.

“Oh, well, I was here for college, but I graduated not too long ago,” she replied before taking a sip of her drink. “I guess my roommates and I were snared by the town and are becoming locals.”

“Sunnydale seems to do that to a lot of people. The locals are nice and the area is beautiful.” He nodded to himself and tipped his beer to take a drink.

Her eyes followed the bottle to his lips, subconsciously comparing them to another set of lips. Lips that had been so soft and sensual, at odds with the roughness of their owner. No! No! Stop that! she thought with alarm. Why did he keep haunting her?

Thankfully, Buffy was brought back to the present by Liam glancing down at his watch and speaking again.

“Well, sadly, I have to go, but I’d like to see you again. Would you like to go have some dinner Friday?” he asked, looking at her hopefully with big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“I’d like that.” She nodded with a soft smile. She wrote down her number on a napkin and handed it to him.

As soon as Liam was gone, Faith returned to stand in front of Buffy and Anya. Her grin let it be known that she had been watching it all, and of course Anya had witnessed everything as well. Buffy tried to act nonchalant, reaching for her drink without saying anything to either of them.

“You gave him your real number, right?” Faith asked. “’Cause if you ditch this guy, I’m going to ride your ass.”

“Faith...” the blonde protested.

“Buffy,” she returned more forcefully.

“Yes. I gave him my real number and I’m going to keep the date. Now get off me.” She shot her friend a petulant look then glanced at Anya, finding no support there.

No doubt, the redhead thought this was a perfect opportunity for Buffy to get some orgasms. If her friend only knew that she was no longer the blushing virgin she had been before Halloween night.

Gah! Again I think of him! I need a lobotomy...yes, a lobotomy would help.

~*~

Walking into the bookstore the next morning, Buffy realized immediately something was wrong when she saw the broken window in the front door. She rushed past piles of spilled books and smashed displays towards the back, hoping Mr. Giles was okay.

“Giles?” she called out as she reached the office.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” The middle-aged owner stepped from the store room and gave her a kind smile. “It seems we were broken into last night. I have been cleaning up all morning. Please salvage any merchandise you can and keep an eye on the front while I finish up shelving the books.”

“What did they take? A lot?” Her eyes scanned the store as if she could tell by looking.

Giles removed his glasses to clean them. “Well, er, that’s the strange thing. In spite of the apparently gratuitous damage, they only took a few books of poetry.”

“Why would anyone want that?” Buffy made a face and headed towards the register as a customer walked in, missing her boss rolling his eyes at her response.

On the way to the front, something caught her eye and she stopped to investigate. She bent and picked up an empty bottle, sniffing it hesitantly and wrinkling her nose when she confirmed it had once held some strong whisky. Holding it by the tips of her fingers at arms length, she took it over to the trash. It certainly explained why the thief stole stupid poetry books. He was stinking drunk.

~*~

Faint rays of waning light penetrated the slit between tightly pulled heavy drapes, illuminating an apartment in shambles. The owner lay in the middle of the floor among the “rubble”, as well as a pile of empty bottles. A couple books were mixed in with the mess and one had been flung across the room, now resting among the remains of a smashed mirror.

With a groan, Spike sat up, turning to see if any of the bottles still had something in them to take the edge off his hangover. He held up a bottle of Jack and shook out the last few drops before flinging it at the wall.

It had been like this ever since that night. The night he met her. Before then, he had reveled in his unlife, feasting on young girls every night and generally getting up to no good. Now, he was reduced to a pathetic ponce, drinking himself into a stupor and whining over her. When he wasn’t completely drunk, he was composing sappy poetry about her face or some other body part. His closet was stuffed full of drawings he had done of her.

I’m a right pansy, I am... he thought disgustedly as he got up.

Stumbling towards his room, he muttered his nightly affirmation that he was going to throw himself into the sunshine to end this insanity. Somehow, he never did manage to kill himself. Probably because come daylight he was unconscious where he fell. Or maybe he had a subconscious reason.

Spike ran himself a hot shower, washing away the stink of stale whiskey and remaining under the spray until the water turned cold. What reason did he have for hurrying? Why, when he didn’t even see a reason for existing?

A little voice whispered in his head, “You hope you’ll find her again.”

Yes, her. The girl haunted his waking and sleeping hours. It also had to be the reason he stuck around this pissant town when normally he traveled as the whim hit him, randomly moving to a new hunting ground.

Hunting. What a joke! He gave a dark chuckle as he walked nude to his kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a blood packet. What a sad excuse for a vampire he had become! He drained the packet, wondering for the hundredth time why he had stopped hunting.

For her. If he was lucky enough to find her again, he hoped his changes impressed her. Then he could convince her he wasn’t the monster he had done his best to scare her with and she wouldn’t be afraid to stay with him. The whole act had been for the benefit of his ego and he was greatly regretting it now. Their joining had been...magical. Maybe he had been enchanted by her.

“I need to get out,” he muttered to himself, running his hand over his hair and sending his damp curls into further disarray.

Spike returned to his bedroom to get dressed for a night out. Tonight, he would visit another new place in the quest to find his golden goddess. Either that, or find the liquid courage to finally end his suffering.

~*~

The brunette bartender came over with the bottle of Jack that Spike ordered. He slid some money her way, trying to ignore the flirtatious looks she was giving him. There was only one girl for him. Before that night, however, he would have taken her up on her quite obvious offer, using her for sex and food.

“I’ve never seen you around here before,” she said, apparently unconcerned with his lack of response.

“Because I’ve never been ‘round here before.” His hand reached for the bottle, ignoring the glass she set out.

“Oh, so are you just passing through?”

His scarred brow arched at her nosiness. “I’ve been lookin’ for a friend of mine. Pretty girl, she is, but a might hard to find.”

The bartender nodded and he hoped she finally got the oh-so obvious hint there. Evidently not, since she opened her mouth, to ask another question, but was thankfully interrupted.

“Faith!” A redhead at the other end of the bar waved as she sat down.

Spike used the opportunity to take his bottle to a back booth where he could drink in peace while keeping an eye open for his girl. His girl. He snorted at that thought. If she were his girl, then why was he sitting alone in the dark corner of a bar, drinking alone brooding?