14805/Drinking without getting Drunk

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Drinking without getting Drunk
Date of Scene: 16 March 2023
Location: McAnally's Pub
Synopsis: Buffy and Spike walk into a bar. Buffy is nice.
Cast of Characters: Spike, Buffy Summers




Spike has posed:
Spike was not difficult to find, if someone knew where to look. He sometimes went to Willy's Bar. He sometimes went to McAnally's Pub. He spent time at his crypt. He visited the Magic Box, the Summers House, Giles' apartment, most of his places were already in the Scooby's general sphere. But when he wasn't with them, there were only about a dozen places that he generally visited.

Tonight, he was in McAnally's, currently standing near the dart board, pulling his darts from it. He was playing with some guy who wore a green and white, horizontally striped sweater, and blue jeans. The man had light brown hair, very curly, and spoke with an Irish accent. Which might explain why Spike, who seemed to lack his customary coat tonight, would be hanging out, or at least playing darts. A quick glance would find that Spike's coat was currently draped over a bar stool, not too far from his pint, as well as his friend's.
Buffy Summers has posed:
This was not one of her usual haunts. Being the Slayer, it really wasn't a place that she found herself welcome so to speak. There were rules in McAnally's Pub which prohibited any sort of conflict while inside. Outside? Another matter entirely. But while in the sacred walls of the pub, one had to behave.

Not that it was difficult for Buffy to behave. But she found she didn't like a social setting where over half the patrons were glaring daggers and considering the best way to kill her when they met again. Or opting to try when she left the building. It hadn't worked out for those and thus most didn't attempt to kill her when she exited these days.

Didn't mean the glaring and muttering stopped. Which was not conducive to getting her drink on and relaxing after a long night of slaying.

Yet, here she was. But this was due to the fact she was supposed to meet someone here. They had information. Which she fully expected would be passed to her on a note or the like because no one wanted to be associated with the Slayer unless they had nerves of steel and the skill to back it.

She moved to the bar to sit on the assigned barstool and that's when she found it was occupied. By a coat. A familiar coat. Which had her looking around the room as she lifted the coat then sat down. She put the coat on the stool next to her and slid the pint over to that spot as well, which likely was his friend's.
Spike has posed:
When someone enters who generates that kind of a reaction by the crowd, it was easy to spot Buffy. Spike had a brief word with his friend, being given some money, as it seemed Spike had won that game of darts, or perhaps his friend owed him for something unrelated. Either way, a wad of bills exchanged hands, though it was done subtly. Were someone highly observant to watch, they might pick up on it. Most would think they just shoot hands, and Spike immediately put his hand back into his pocket afterwards.

Moving, almost gliding across the floor, he made his way to the bar, to the stool that previously had his coat, and seeing it on the one next, he sat on his coat. "Love the hair, did you blow dry? Some new product?" Oh god, was he still on this, trying to flirt with her? Spike had game, when he didn't give a toss, but if he actually wanted to impress someone, sometimes, he could be adorably pathetic.
Buffy Summers has posed:
Buffy had spotted him just after the exchange of money, saving him from that curiosity. But she did watch as he closed that distance to find his coat. Which got the super respectful reaction of having his butt sat upon it.

The questions had her frowning as she looked his way. Then she turned to the bartender as he finally made it to her. Just a beer ordered, whatever was good on tap, because she wasn't all that educated on what beer was what and what was best. Which might traumatize some of the beer lovers in the world if they heard that order.

"Same hair, same product. What do you want, Spike?" Because he has to want something. To start a conversation that way. She immediately pulled her jacket a little closer around her, thought he might catch a glimpse of a green top that may look vaguely familiar though he had last thrown it in the trash.
Spike has posed:
Spike didn't immediately notice the green tank top that he had bought for her, as her coat covered it. The thing is, pulling her jacket a little closer had the unintended side effect of drawing attention to her chest, the narrow gap between each side of the coat, and his eyes darted there, seeing it, recognizing it, but not saying anything about it, at least not for now.

"Really, well, whatever you're doing, keep it up." He picked up the beer, which was either his friend's, or his, but it was Spike's now. "What do I want... what do I... want. I want them to stop forcing Harrison Ford to make Indiana Jones films, I want a steady supply of hot and cold running blood, pig's," he added the last bit with a sigh, "naturally, and for you and your scoobies to give me the time of day. I've worked alongside you for years, I've put in my time, how come I'm still being treated like table scraps?"
Buffy Summers has posed:
"I don't think anyone is making Harrison Ford do anything. He could say no. So it's either his greed or his ego that is making him say yes." Probably an unpopular opinion but there it was. And not like she was someone who knew a lot about the actor but with a friend like Xander, she had been forced to learn some of the more popular pop culture heroes such as Han Solo and Indiana Jones. Just for self preservation if nothing else.

Buffy gave a nod to the bartender as he arrived with her beer. Picking up the mug, she took a sip and then set the mug back on the square napkin it had been resting on. "How come?"

She considered that question. "You only want the pig's blood 'cause you can't get human due to that chip in your head. Otherwise, you'd still be out there killing people for a meal. You help us cause you get to hurt someone in some way. It isn't just out of the kindness of your heart. If you were rid of that chip, I believe you would turn on us. Especially me. Add a third to your list of Slayers."
Spike has posed:
Spike nodded along. She made some good points about Harrison Ford. As far as he knew, Ford didn't have any children either, so not really anyone to worry about leaving that money to. Perhaps he had nieces or nephews, but still, he didn't need to keep doing this at his wealth level and his age. "Probably ego," Spike finally said, "that he can still do it. We old fogeys like to prove that we're still young at heart." He winked to her.

But he was taken aback by her response to his desires. "Okay, I'll grant you that, I'd prefer human, it tastes better, but," and he paused, letting the conversation slow to a crawl, "I could get human blood, if I wanted it that bad. There are ways. Nick it from the hospital, the blood bank, or, just muscle some fool into harming a human, and then I can suck their corpse dry. And you know what, I've never done it. You know me Buffy, I'm smarter than that. If I want something, I'll find a way. Almost anything is within my reach." Another pause.

He got up, picking up his coat and putting it on, like a suit of armor. "I've changed. One of these days, you're going to figure it out." And he began to leave. Again. He was quickly making a habit of walking out on her, of course, she kept attacking him without cause. And he didn't want to argue with her.
Buffy Summers has posed:
Now that was confusing and it showed on Buffy's face. She wasn't the greatest at hiding her thoughts or feelings. Her brow was furrowed as she considered, trying to determine why he would just up and leave like that.

To her it had been a discussion. He asked a question. She'd answered it. But she apparently had offended him or hurt his feelings. Whichever it might be. "I have to take your word for it. And you have helped us a lot. I just have to wonder if it will stick should the chip go away."

Then she turned back to the bar and her beer.
Spike has posed:
Spike turned at that last part, returning for now, to the bar. He came up, close, personal space close, "trust is earned. It's been years. And still, you... you..." he grunted in anger, trying not to make a scene. It was good that the bar was packed, with lots of background noise. He reached up, running his hands through his slicked back hair, "argh, what do I have to do to make you trust me? To accept me? How much more are you going to torture me?" He blew up, air flowing from his bottom lip, past his nose, and up his face. He nearly clenched his hands into a fist. Clearly, this was closer to his core than he would care to admit. And then, he calmed down, on his own, as if resetting to his default position. "If I haven't earned your trust by now, I guess I never will."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"It all comes back to knowing we can trust you. Without the chip."

Buffy just laid it out there even as she turned on that barstool to face him, not flinching in the face of his anger. Even if he did decide to act up in this place, she would deal with it. But she wouldn't start it either. She was trying to respect the rules of the pub.

A moment later he had calmed himself. Perhaps he was respecting the pub too. Or it was just him. Who knew at this point? "But then there is the fear that you would revert to being the Big Bad again." Since he had called himself that in the past. "So is it better for you to keep the chip so we never know or lose it so that we find out if you truly have changed? I mean, the chip is working as your soul now basically, right?"
Spike has posed:
\Spike was a passionate man. He was known to have emotional outburst, sometimes violent, other times he would just work through the theatrics of showing his heart on his sleeves. This seemed to have been the latter. Though in truth, he hadn't given a thought to the pub's rules. He was just working this through his system as he always did when confronted with tension like this.

He gave her a confused look. "What are you saying, you'll get some doctor or magician, or witch doctor, to remove this blasted chip, and if Spike is a good little boy, you'll keep him. If not, it's off to the woodshed?" He leaned his head back, rolling his eyes, before bringing it back down, "and Buffy, souls don't matter that much. People with souls commit evil acts all the time. I've committed good acts, both before and after the chip. I helped you take down Angelus, and save the world. No soul back then, right. John Wayne Gacy had a soul. Jack the Ripper had a soul. Souls are overrated."
Buffy Summers has posed:
Buffy started to open her mouth to argue and had to pause. Closing her mouth, she tilted her head slightly and uttered a single sound. "Hnh." Not a question, more that moment of a lightbulb going off over her head.

He wasn't wrong. At all. There were lots of evil people with souls. At least, she presumed they had been human and had souls. With so many demonic entities, she couldn't be sure. But she somehow knew Spike was right.

Which rubbed her wrong. She hated when he was right.

"You do remember who you are, right? Spike the Bloody? Killer of two Slayers and you've threatened me more times than I can count." Course, it was kind of mutual threatening as many times as she had threatened to stake him. But that didn't weigh into her consideration at the moment. "Souls do seem to make a difference for some." Considering he had mentioned Angelus. Which was a sore topic still for her.
Spike has posed:
"William the Bloody," he corrected her. "And yeah, I off'd two slayers, and saved a third more times than any vamp should have any right to." He was of course referring to her. He hadn't done anything to save Faith, yet. But she could make him even, in a morbid sort of way.

"When's the last time I seriously threatened you, I don't mean our banter, but think, Buffy, when did I last even hint at real harm?" That should have landed like a ton of bricks. It certainly did for Spike. He had marched up to her house, shotgun in hand, chip in his head, prepared to blow her heat off, knowing it would sting like a bitch, but she sat there, on the porch, sad that her mother was sick. He has lost all desire to harm her in that moment.

Instead, he put the shotgun down, sat beside her on the porch, reached out to pat her back, and when that seemed awkward for both of them, he simply sat there, silently accompanying her, being there for her. He had been there for her ever since that night.

He decided not to take the bait on Angel / Angelus. The man was a terrible person before he became a vampire, a terrible one after, and only sort of become bearable, after getting a soul, and spending the better part of a century moping about.
Buffy Summers has posed:
And as much as she might want to deny that one, Buffy knew he was right. "You have. And I appreciate it."

She brushed a hand back through her hair to get it out of her face, hooking it behind her left ear so she could see him better. She tried to think back to the last time he threatened her, in a serious way, not their silly banter version. And it was not easily grasped. Which should tell her something.

"You're right. We kind of treat you unfairly. You've proven yourself a lot and we should give you more credit." Which may seem odd for her to agree but it was a fact. But he might notice she made it the we thing instead of her personally. Perhaps because that was easier for her. To not make it so personal but she honestly didn't mean we.
Spike has posed:
Sometimes Spike was so convincing, well thought out, and astute, that he could even surprise himself. He and Buffy fought so easily, they both seemed to love the banter, and sure, she had started out by really taking the piss out of him, but now, she seemed to be agreeing, as he was making a lot of sense. "That's something, at least."

He did note the brush of her hair. Sure, it was bothering her, but he knew it was also often a sign of attraction. Was he wearing her down, or had he genuinely struck some kind of a cord with her? It could also be that it was bothering her and she simply was fixing it. "That the royal we?" He asked, cutting through the crap, and getting right to the source of the matter, as per usual.

It was only at this point that he decided to add, "nice shirt." He had known. He had known! And he let her carry on, not mentioning it until now? Why did he always have to make everything so personal?
Buffy Summers has posed:
A demon came by and slipped, tripping slightly and bumping into Buffy. He muttered an apology and quickly shuffled away, soon making an exit from the building.

At first Buffy reacted like she always would. That moment of tension, hand going into a pocket. But then the demon was moving on and she tilted her head. Her hand come out without a weapon in it. But she leaned her other hand on her side a moment to feel that there was something in her opposite pocket, having been deposited there by the contact.

The comment about the shirt had Buffy focusing back on Spike. And there was that wrinkle of her nose in annoyance for a moment as she realized he had seen it. But at least she could relax more and not have to try to keep the shirt hidden. "It is. Thanks."

And that was as much niceness as he was going to get. "We not royal. I'm just me. I leave all that royalty stuff to the people...across the pond?" She ended it as a question, not sure if she was using the term properly.

"I am just speaking on behalf of all the Scoobies." Which was a lie. Since she didn't know if they would agree with her on this point.