Chapter Text
“You want me to what?” Buffy asked, incredulous.
Spike waved the tickets at her. “What I said. Go to the concert with me. An actual decent one, too. Do you know how incredible that is for this town?” he asked her.
Buffy eyed the tickets like they might suddenly come alive and bite her, which, to be fair, was not an abnormal thing to think for a place like Sunnydale.
“You want me to go to a metal concert with you.” Buffy clarified.
Spike sighed, rolling his eyes as if Buffy were very slow. “Yes, that is exactly what I just said.”
“You know I don’t really listen to-”
“Oh, come off it. You fight demons and all sorts of things nightly, but loud guitars and heavy bass are where you draw the line? Really, Slayer?” He cut her off with a disbelieving huff.
Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared at him. Spike crossed his arms and stared right back, fingers moving over the tickets idly.
“That’s not – I don’t -” She looked at him and then the tickets again, her brows wrinkling into a frown. “You think I have bad taste in music!”
Spike’s expression didn’t change. “Never said that, just find it funny you’ll go out prowling all night, fighting the forces of evil, running through cemeteries, savin’ the world… That’s metal as hell, Slayer.”
Buffy frowned, confused. Did he just compliment her? Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.
“Spike…”
“What?”
“That was weirdly sincere.”
“Don’t spread it around. Ruin my reputation,” he huffed, giving a little shrug of his shoulders.
Buffy let out a long sigh, running a hand through her hair as she thought about the offer. That alone was insane. Was she honestly really considering going with him?
God, she really did have to be desperate for a change of pace.
Spike watched her mull it over. The twitch in her jaw almost looked angry before he caught the flare of irritation instead. He’d seen that look enough times to know by now.
“Look, you’ve worked yourself to the bone lately. Even Slayers need a chance to go out, blow off some steam,” he told her, voice softening just a fraction.
Buffy gave him a look that managed to be both unimpressed and sarcastic. “If I want to blow off steam, I can go to the Bronze. Or beat up some bad guys.” She shrugged. “I don’t need a bunch of loud, crazy metalheads for that.”
Spike leaned forward, just a little. “That’s just my point. All you ever think about is the job. I get it, but the Bronze don’t have the right atmosphere, love. Same old garage bands, same lot of people. Gets boring after a while, doesn’t it?”
She glared at him again, because he had a point, and it only made her more irritated. Sometimes Spike was too perceptive for his own good. She knew, too, that he wasn’t just talking about the scene at the Bronze. He was talking about the endless nights on patrol, the grind, the crushing weight of all that responsibility that was hers to bear.
The worst part was that he sounded like he understood.
Spike looked at her and arched an eyebrow as if to say, Well?
“When is it?” Buffy found herself asking against her better judgment. She really shouldn’t be asking, but the Bronze was getting a little tired, and there were only so many places to go in a place like Sunnydale. Besides, she had to admit she was a little bit curious now. It was strange imagining Spike somewhere that wasn’t a cemetery, crypt, or looming dramatically in the shadows, annoying her.
“Tomorrow night,” Spike answered her.
Buffy sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat with an aggravated groan. “Okay, fine. Whatever. I’ll go to the stupid concert,” she conceded at last.
A rare, genuine smile broke across Spike’s face, his eyes lighting up in a way she’d only very rarely ever seen. “Bloody fantastic. You’ll have fun. I promise.”
Buffy eyed him. “No felonies, Spike.”
“What about misdemeanors?” His voice was hopeful and his expression earnest.
“No!” Buffy deadpanned, glaring at him.
He huffed out a disappointed sigh, bottom lip jutting out in a sullen little pout. “Spoilsport. I’ll come round and pick you up early, yeah?” His expression shifted to something more hopeful.
“Fine, whatever, just don’t make it weird, okay?”
He grinned at her. “Bit late for that,” he called over his shoulder as he walked away, a decided spring in his step.