15649/House Hunting

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
House Hunting
Date of Scene: 29 September 2023
Location: Crawford Mansion, Sunnydale (TBD)
Synopsis: Spike well and truly blows Buffy's mind
Cast of Characters: Spike, Buffy Summers

Spike has posed:
As good ideas go, living on the Hellmouth is right up there with living in Chernobyl or Tokyo during n Godzilla's time of the month. Spike's crypt had been ransacked, by monsters, vampires, aliens, who knew? Someone or something had been through, trashed up the place, and made him start from scratch. Or so the plan went.

Secretly, Dawn Summers had invited him, though not in that whole Vampires must be invited thing, to stay in the Summers House basement while he got things sorted. Joyce was unaware, but when Buffy found out, well, she had reacted to a vampire sleeping on a cot in her family home about as well as any Vampire Slayer would.

And so, after much back and forth, they were out hunting for a new layer, crypt, mausoleum, or other domicile. Spike, perhaps wanting to complicate matters and get to spend more time with Buffy, had found a problem with each and every place suggested so far. Many of them were quite reasonable problems, but that was more a testament to his quick thinking, than anything else.

As they approached the Crawford Mansion, Spike stopped, "oh no, oh hell no, you think yer gonna shack me up in your old beau's place?" Technically, he had lived there once too, with Drusilla, but yeah, Angel and Drusilla had? well, he was in a wheelchair at the time.
Buffy Summers has posed:
"You lived here before."

Uh-oh, seems that Buffy has been told some secrets by Angel at some point. She knew the trio had been here during the time when Angel had not quite been himself. Back when things happened that could never be overcome really. Which had led to her having to kill her own boyfriend to save the world.

Being the Slayer really sucked sometimes.

"It's a nice place. Already setup with electricity and everything. Sunlight proofed in all the important spots. I'm not sure why you wouldn't want to live here. Unless it's occupied."

That gave her pause as she considered the building. A quick check in her lightweight leather jacket to be sure she had a stake or two handy. Just in case. "At least look at it before you decide against."
Spike has posed:
It was also the site of where she sent Angel to hell, though he didn't know that, as it didn't come up in any interaction between Spike and the scoobies. He was so tuned into things, it was strange when he was out of the loop. "Well, yeah, but?" And he didn't really want to go into details about how little he'd enjoy sleeping in a bed where Angelus had defiled?

He breathed out a sigh, long and slow, and squeezed his palms, clearly showing signs of being uncomfortable. Especially since he didn't need to breathe. It was more of a reflex action. He needed to breathe in order to talk or smoke, but the rest of the time, it was just habit.

"Bad memories," he finally said. Narrowing his eyes, they quickly shifted into a bit of a roll up into the back of his head, "for you, Buffy," he said, whispering under his breath, "for anyone else?" it would have been a no. And he began marching up the steps.
Buffy Summers has posed:
She frowned slightly as he started up the steps but quickly schooled her expression back to neutral as she followed him up. "The place is huge. You can go into other rooms that aren't the ones you were in before, if there are bad memories. Like, for me? Probably won't be hanging out near the little garden area anytime soon." The patio where she'd fought Angelus and eventually stabbed him through with a sword. But only after he was no longer Angelus but back to being Angel.

"Look. We can go somewhere else. It's just it's a big place, plenty of room, seems a waste to have it..." Her voice trailed off as she entered because the foyer area looked like someone had been living here. Not recently. But things were different from when she'd last seen it. Though there was a layer of dust on everything so perhaps whoever had been here was gone already. "We might need to clear the place. Make sure we aren't walking into a vamp nest."

Not that she was sensing anything. Well, she was. But that was Spike. Her Slayer senses were sort of picking up him so even if there was something more, would she notice? She'd like to think so. It should be more intense or draw her attention in that direction. Maybe.
Spike has posed:
She had good senses, was incredibly alert, and even had prophetic dreams. What she didn't have was vampiric senses, like his sense of smell. Moving into the foyer, and then to a living room, he crouched down near some garbage, kind of lowering himself to the ground, spreading out his legs, even bent, and they were covered by his duster, which made a new pattern in the dust on the ground. There were packets of potato chips, a few beer bottles, some empty, others smashed. "This hasn't been touched in a while," thinking maybe six weeks or so. While still crouched down, he turned to look at Buffy. He didn't even make a joke, but there was something about that look, the grin, the half squint of his eyes. She didn't need to be a telepath to guess what he was holding back.
Buffy Summers has posed:
Apparently not a resident but probably teens partying. Which from that grin on his face, the way he seemed to be screaming silently for her to ask him, Buffy knew better. "I don't want to know what you are sniffing. Because ...gross. And ...well just ew." Thankfully she did not have such senses. She'd want to just wrap herself up in one of those giant inflatable bubbles to try to keep the world at bay otherwise.

"So no one to clean out. Just a matter of if you want to bother with it. You'd probably have to deal with kids sneaking in." Kids. Because she was /so/ much more mature at 24 years old. Maybe it was the Dawn influence, having a kid sister. Who also wasn't really a kid anymore but would always be a kid in Buffy's eyes.

She started to walk through the place, glancing around, taking in the state. Seeing if it was going to be liveable, if he didn't find something wrong with it. Bad memories might be enough though. She forced herself into that room where the statue had once stood before devouring itself. But there were a lot of good memories too. More good than bad. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.
Spike has posed:
Spike wasn't sure if his joke had gone over her head or that she might have been distracted, worried about vampires, werewolves, and the forces of darkness. He was thinking it went over her head, as normally, she'd whine, give him a hrmph, or some other kind of displeased look at his humor.

Rising from the crouch, he simply shook his head at her ew remark about the rubbish. "I suppose I could try and coerce Xander into helping to change the locks," coerce, the price would probably be something along the lines of pointing out if he did move into this place, he'd be further away from Xander and Buffy. Slightly, but every foot counted, right?

Following after Buffy, he saw her approach the garden, where she had once sent Angel to hell, or one hell dimension. There were so many. Sensing the cold, as it was New Jersey in late September, he took off his duster, and would try to drape it over her arms, "can't have my first guest catching her death out here." Before he quickly added, "that doesn't mean I'm taking it yet." Yeah, smooth Spike, really smooth there.
Buffy Summers has posed:
She was looking around the garden area, every moment of the fight playing through her head. During the fight, Buffy had been holding back. She didn't want to hurt him, even though he wasn't the man she loved in that moment. She had fought the instincts from her Slayer past that told her how to win the fight and thus had almost lost. Until she made that switch in her head, realized it wasn't Angel, and the cost to the world if she didn't do her duty.

Had she mentioned being a Slayer sucked sometimes?

When that duster was put on her shoulders, she actually jumped slightly and snapped her head around to look at Spike. Realizing what he was doing, she let out a sigh and dropped her gaze. "Thanks. I'm good though." Since she had her light jacket on tonight. She'd been prepared. Not that she took it off. She accepted it as the graceful gesture it had been.

That was the weird thing about Spike. Yeah, he was a Big Bad. Had been from the day he came to Sunnydale. Yet, she knew more about his history than perhaps anyone that wasn't a vampire. And though a Big Bad, he also could be a complete gentleman. Like now.

"This spot has a lot of memories for me." She wasn't sure if he knew so she filled it in. "It's where I killed Angelus. Well, he had been Angelus. He'd already opened the portal and the world would've been consumed. Willow managed to restore his soul at the last moment." She walked over to where the dark vortex had been. "But it was too late. The only way to close the portal was by the blood of the person that opened it. So I had to kill Angel."

Then she turned away, moving toward the building again. "Maybe you're right. Maybe this place has too many memories." It wasn't like he'd stayed dead. Angel was alive and well, so to speak when one was a vampire. "We can keep looking."
Spike has posed:
She may have protested, but she also didn't take it off, so Spike left it there, saying no more of it. Besides, whenever Spike did get a reason to take off his duster jacket, he got to show off that toned physique that he hid so often. The black t-shirt he had been wearing beneath was tight across his chest and biceps. He deliberately bought, okay, stole them in that size. All that mattered to him was that they were stretchy enough that he could have full range of motion while wearing it. Because no one wanted to get dusted for want of range of motion when swinging.

The garden had benches where one could sit, marble or granite benches, something like that, so they didn't retain an ounce of heat, weren't padded in any way, but it was a place to sit. He thought about taking a seat, gave it a good look, as she began talking. But while he remained near them, he waited for her queue.

Instead, he had the good sense to keep quiet, listening, showing his attention, watching her. When she moved to the door back into the building, he joined her beside it, "that's the funny thing about memories. You can be consumed by them, or try to form new ones."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"It's weird. I know he's alive. Though things will never be the same for obvious reasons." Cause happiness would turn him into a soulless monster again instead of the Angel she'd known and loved. Loved? Was it past tense? She still loved him on some level but that was something that was not possible for their future. Unless he found a way beyond the curse and that hadn't worked out with the loss of Miss Calendar. Perhaps he didn't really want to. Angel seemed happy to brood. He was quite good at it, after all.

Yet here was Spike saying you could dwell or make new. It was a huge difference between the two men. And it was so strange she had met Angel as a good guy and then seen him transform to bad. But vice versa for Spike. What did that say about their character, deep down? Was it just the chip? Was it just Spike being somewhat obsessed with her? Or was there something even deeper she didn't know about yet?

"I could say the same to you. You mentioned the bad memories out front," she pointed out unnecessarily. "Before we came inside. So do you want to deal with trying to make new memories here or just leave this whole place behind us both and find something more fitting your personal tastes?"
Spike has posed:
Ever since Spike learned of the parameters of the curse, he had long suspected that they were being overly cautious. One moment of true happiness? did they have any idea how rare that was? They could go to town on each other for a thousand years, and might not experience another moment of true happiness. On the other hand, they could do it tomorrow and bam, Angelus once more. Why take the chance. It was why he didn't offer up those thoughts. He couldn't bear to tease Buffy that way, to dangle hope in front of her. That girl would grab it with both hands and never let go. It was part of what he loved about her. How she tried.

It was also a testament to how much he cared about Buffy that he didn't make any Angel jokes right now. He did nod his head in agreement with what she said, gave a reassuring look, whatever made sense at each moment as they walked through the place, sort of giving it a leisurely tour and check as they walked. "Memories are a lot more fun when they're made together. You don't see a lot of folks making fine dining reservations for one." He paused, biting his bottom lip. "I'm a simple fellow," they both could probably hear Maury Povich saying 'we have determined? that was a lie' running through their heads, "my personal tastes are wherever you are, or did you think I live near the Hellmouth for my health?"
Buffy Summers has posed:
Hearing that, she managed not to wince. Because she knew it, she just tried not to think about it. Yet Spike put it out there on a verbal platter and presented it to her.

"I know you have feelings for me." At least Buffy didn't downplay it to he 'thought' he had feelings. She was pretty sure he knew what he knew and felt what he felt. "But I also think you kind of like being near the Hellmouth. It's a place you can fight, even with that chip in your head. It's somewhere that's exciting which I think is a draw for vampires who have been around a while? Or is that wrong?" Cause she really wasn't sure. There were supposed to be ancient ones that sort of hid out from the world too. "Maybe just certain ones of certain personality types? Or is it more that you're the teenage equivalent of humans when you are 200 or something?"
Spike has posed:
It did warm his unbeating heart that she had upgraded to knowing he had feelings for her. He had been clear. He wanted her. He wanted to be with her. It had come out, but since it was, he saw no reason to hide it, to downplay it. He knew, deep down, he would never be with her, but it didn't stop him from trying, from wanting it.

He thought about it, one eyebrow lifting, then both lowering, and rising again, as he was conflicted. "Sort of. I wouldn't be looking fer a new place to live if this weren't the Hellmouth. And yeah, you're right. It is fun beating on vampires, werewolves, mummies, door-to-door salespeople, demons," he threw out door-to-door salespeople to see if she was really listening.

He took another contemplative pause, as if she had made him think, but he didn't give words to the deeper meaning. Still, it was clear that he had held something back there. Soon, he moved on, "I was only a few years older than you are now, when I was sired." He was 27 at the time, "Most vamps, we're trapped where we died, stuck in that mindset. Part of the reason so many stick out like a sore thumb, wearing the same clothes," he took a hand of the sleeve of his duster on her, "I keep this for sentimental reasons, and because it's a timeless classic."

His jeans and t-shirt, everything he wore right now, was of contemporary styles and cuts. He also sometimes wore a hoodie to go out in the day. "I am no ordinary vampire."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"I think that might be the understatement of the century," Buffy said in response to him being no ordinary vampire. She couldn't help smiling though.

She did circle back to his other statement though. "I don't think door-to-door sales people are..." Then she paused as she remembered Pfister. And gave a little full body shiver as she shook ehr head. "Nevermind." Because now all of them were potentially demons in her head.

She tilted her head slightly. "You were only 27? I knew you were young but not that young. I mean you look young but that can be a trick of the light. Or something." Then she had to ask. "Okay, this is going to be stupid probably but here goes. You were a writer before you were changed, right?" They were alone, no one else would be hearing it. And they'd had that encounter in the past where a magical locket had given her insight into him and the woman he had cared for before his change. "So how did you get... this?" And she waved her hand at his torso. "Cause that physique doesn't look like a poet and I don't think you guys can bulk up after like a bodybuilder. Or can you?"
Spike has posed:
It made him smile, he did love her sense of humor, but even better, it was nice to see her smile. She had suffered way too much hardship in her young life. Any moment of happiness was worth the cost, as far as he was concerned. "I am English," he added, uncertain whether she would get that the English were masters of understatement. "You ever hear about the small British force being overrun by 10,000 Chinese troops in the Korean War?"

He had heard from Xander about the Door-to-Door salesman that turned into bugs. Xander Harris sometimes talked in his sleep, and Spike had been stuck sharing a basement with him for a time.

"Scouts honor," he said, raising a hand as if to swear his age prior to being sired. "Thanks," he said at her compliments, though he felt like he looked old for his age. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he heard her 'stupid' line of thought. "Yes?" He replied, hesitantly. Soon to be looking down at her hand waving at his torso, his abs, how cut he was. "Oh, yes," he paused.

"I was born in London, to money," he said hesitantly, "but nothing too ostentatious. Enough that neither I, nor my mother," curiously, his accent changed. He was speaking, well, he was speaking with a received pronunciation accent right now, like Giles, rather than the cockney he usually spoke with, "ever had to worry. My father? was not involved. It was the height of the Empire, the British Empire. I did cross country, I boxed, I wrestled, I played rugby and football. And I was a poet?"

Yes, he admitted that, and it looked like it hurt him to admit it. He knew he wasn't very good at it. Come to think of it, those last four words were spoke in his cockney accent. "So, it's all me. But yes, we can actually bulk up, or let ourselves go, it's all about lifestyle and diet. Just takes longer, each way, than a human."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"Huh. I didn't know that." She looked him over again critically and even a woman happily married for 50 years to her husband would have to admit he was put together very well. Perhaps it was from before since he did all those sports. In addition to being a poet. Which had her confused as hell cause every romance she had read in her years before becoming a Slayer, and yes she had read trash just not important stuff, he was what one would consider the leading hero. Yet, in this story he was the Big Bad who got chipped and forced to go good. Or fell in love and went good? Lil-bit-of-both most likely.

"So like some of those bulky older vampires we fought, that worked for the Master. What was his name..." She couldn't recall it but did it really matter? He'd been dusted long ago. "May have gotten that way over time after being sired. Just a lot more time. Since he apparently was around for half of forever." Unlike Spike and Angel who were kind of younger in the vampire game. Or were they middle aged?

To be honest, she had no idea and it didn't matter. At least they were allies and friends! Friends. And that had her brow furrowing anew as she considered Spike and that word.

"Thanks for telling me, Spike. I know you aren't big on sharing your past. Whereas I'm an open book." Since everyone knew everything about the Slayer. Or so it felt.
Spike has posed:
Spike's platinum hair wasn't that appealing. He had the Y-shaped scar over his left eye. And he frequently spoke with a cockney accent, one of the least appealing English accents. But other than that, he was a good looking man, and in great shape. He also was highly intelligent, and had a good heart.

"I never met the Master, heard about him from Angelus and Darla a few times. Luke was one of his boys, I think." He scratched his head, trying to think of any other person he had heard of. He was about to ask what about the guy, but she explained it. "Could be, or he could have just maintained it. You ever see a vampire that doesn't eat? They go all skelton-ey, wasting away."

As they reached the top floor, seeing a spare bedroom first, no furniture in it, "Not with others. You're different, Buffy."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"So you keep telling me." Buffy paused then shrugged. "Actually, you and other people. I don't see why I'm any different from the past Slayers. I'm just me."

Which was the best she could do. Although, in truth, she had changed a lot since she became the Slayer. She went from being a selfish person who only cared about her status and happiness to what she was now. It had taken a while though. And the loss of her first Watcher. And probably her own death too.

So much had changed in less than ten years of her life. Course that brought up the realization that ten years was a pretty long life-span for a Slayer. She wondered if she'd make it that long.

"True, they do go all skinny and boney. I never really thought about it I guess." A little grin. "I leave the thinking to Willow and Giles. I just do the punching."
Spike has posed:
"Where do you want me to begin?" Was that a challenge? He sounded genuine. Like he was happy to point out exactly why she was different.

"And don't sell yerself short. You may not know computers, or magic, but there are many ways to show intelligence. Besides, didn't I hear that you once made Willow Rosenberg academically jealous of your achievements?" How the hell did he hear that? Damn, Spike was observant. Oh right, he picked up knowledge like a sponge, filed it away, kept it until it was relevant, or funny. "You're smarter than you know."
Buffy Summers has posed:
That got a little snort from Buffy. "Just studied enough for once to get those scores. And it was a one time thing. I think." Which had Buffy pausing as she continued down the hall. They inspected each of the rooms, letting him see if there was stuff he liked or disliked. But if he wanted to avoid certain rooms, she was fine with that too. After all, he had his own memories of this place.

"If you do move in, we have to order Chinese or pizza and sit on a sheet laid out in the living room while we eat. It's like a tradition sort of thing." One she had started with her family any time they had moved when she was a kid. She'd even done it upon moving to the apartment with Willow, though not on the sheet. The sheet was kind of necessary though. Cause it meant getting to spend that time in the house was more important than waiting for furniture to be added. Though this place was already furnished so probably a silly idea.
Spike has posed:
Spike had memories of this place, he knew the layout, but he was mostly letting Buffy take the lead, following after her, walking alongside her, but never venturing too far. "You can do anything you put your mind to it. Ding ding, I think we have a new understatement of the century."

"Chinese or pizza, which do you prefer?" He enjoyed both, but was partial to Chinese. And then a grin forming on his lips, "I'm glad you're willing to help me break in the new sheets."
Buffy Summers has posed:
"Oh. My. God."

Buffy rolled her eyes then glared at him. "You are so wrong. It's a family thing! Don't make it pervy!"

Wait... Did that mean that Buffy thought of him as family? She quickly moved on, not realizing what she'd said or what it truly meant.

"Definitely Chinese. And does that mean you are moving in?"
Spike has posed:
That only made Spike grin wider. He loved needling her like that, getting under her skin, but in a playful, banter like way, as opposed to the biting into her flesh sort of way. When did that happen, he wondered.

"You know you're cute when you're blushing," he said, even though she was glaring at him, more than blushing. And she had better believe he caught onto the family thing. He was half tempted to go onto that route, but instead, he moved on. "That depends," seeing as they were on the second floor, near the linen closet, he took a step toward it, rubbing his hands together.

"Why don't we let fate decide? A package of new sheets in here, and we order Chinese, and if not? we go out for pizza. Deal?" It wasn't really fair. He technically was one of the last residents. He might know the answer!
Buffy Summers has posed:
Though there had been residents since him. Angel when he had returned for a time. Apparently some other occupants. Not to mention the partiers who liked to use the place.


Buffy didn't automatically presume that Spike might already have the deck stacked in his favor. Him being who he was? She probably should have.
Spike has posed:
Spike knew that he was taking a chance, but technically, he couldn't lose. The deal was they eat here together, or they eat elsewhere together. Either way, they were having dinner together. Did that make this a date? Or just colleagues spending time together?

He nodded back to her, and opened the linen closet doors, and there were sheets, neatly stacked, folded. Spike looked crestfallen. "Doesn't look like?"

And as he fished about, his hand gripped plastic. He pulled it out triumphantly, "paydirt!" And he handed her the still sealed sheets, Egyptian cotton, high thread count, from Bed Bath and Beyond? and still with the security tag. That could be a problem.
Buffy Summers has posed:
A glance was given to the security tag. Then to Spike. Then to the security tag. "I don't see nothing," she muttered as she looked away. A moment later, she turned and walked toward the stairs as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. As they were house shopping for him instead of her patrolling, it had not been broken yet. Thus she was able to pull up info for the closest Chinese place that delivered.

"You were lucky that someone hadn't already gotten those out of there."
Spike has posed:
A moment later, with her looking away, the security tag disappeared, being torn off it in one smooth motion, but the security tag was attached to the plastic, rather than the sheets inside, so at least there was that. He followed after her, heading down the stairs, and listened as she looking up Chinese restaurants that delivered. "Why don't you order for us, while I lay out the sheets in, the living room, was it?"
Buffy Summers has posed:
"Yes, living room. Right in the middle of the room. I'll order drinks too. Anything specific you want or just a variety of stuff?"

Buffy was focused on the phone so missed any activity with the security tag. Scrolling through the many options as tapping the ones she wanted specifically. She paused at the bottom of the stairs and stepped to the side, glancing over his way to see what his order might be. Once she had it, she added that then fired off the order.

"Should be here in thirty minutes."
Spike has posed:
"Coke if they have it, Dr. Pepper if they have Pepsi products." He took out the flat sheet, beginning to unfurl it. There was a noticeable flapping noise as the once tightly packed sheets spread out and expanded. Had he a broom, he might have done that because of the dust. Now he'll need to wash the brand new sheets. "Uh, chicken fried rice, deep fried wantons, sweet and sour chicken balls, something like that?"
Buffy Summers has posed:
Each thing he mentioned go ordered too. Then Buffy tucked the phone back away into her pocket. And the sheet was for just that reason. Even if there was dust and stuff, they could still enjoy. Clean sheets were always sacrificed for such a momentoush occasion.

"So you're taking this place then." A statement. No questions. Because if it was to be christened with a meal, it must be moved into. And she wasn't moving in here. She already had an apartment and a Mom she was worried about which might change her living arrangements soonish.
Spike has posed:
"Looks like it, but it's a big place, lots of bedrooms. If you ever want a place to spend the night closer than that apartment of yours, and you don't want to worry your mum, you're always welcome." He knew that Joyce worried whether Buffy was there or not, but she worried most when Buffy was closest to home. There was something about her being out in Gotham that made it a little easier, out of sight, out of mind, and all that. Though she also missed Buffy.
Buffy Summers has posed:
Buffy considered that offer a moment then nodded. "I appreciate that. Might take you up on it sometimes. Though it really needs to be cleaned up a bit. Get a tv in here so you can watch your shows." She knew he liked his shows, including soap operas. One didn't really judge considering everyone had their things. "A nice couch instead of that old chair you had. Or a chair. Maybe you'll have to do some work to be able to afford them."

She said this with a straight face. Having managed not to laugh considering she knew he'd likely steal anything he wanted.
Spike has posed:
Spike beamed when she nodded and spoke about how she might take him up on it, even with the caveat of sometimes. He looked around, this place was still semi-furnished, but not entirely. It was kind of a mixture, not barren, but underfurnished. "Oh, right, work, pay my taxes. I just have to find a job that is away from the sun, or lets me work nights, but then I wouldn't be able to help you on your patrols. Is that watchers council hiring? That way I could still patrol, and get paid for it. You get paid right, don't you?" He said that last part in a teasing tone, as it made little sense that the Council had so much money, and gave none of it to the Slayer.
Buffy Summers has posed:
"I don't think you'd be happy as a Watcher. Lots of sitting around being jerks. Not enough action for someone like you," Buffy decided. Which again implied he wasn't a jerk. Which simply could not be.

"I really don't know who owns the place. Angel has the hotel now that he uses. Not sure who was here in between." Might have to do with those blanks in her memory.

A little shrug. "Who knows."
Spike has posed:
And as if on cue, there was a polite knock at the door. Spike said, "hold that thought," and headed over to the door, his door, well, technically, whomever owned the property, but he seemed like he was planning on squatting here. It had been abandoned for years, officially, so whomever owned the property, likely was just keeping it for the land, it was owned by a corporation that didn't even realize it, or they had a guardian angel.

There was a well built man with long black hair, a beard, and a moustache, who was wearing a black muscle shirt, black jeans, and a uniform jacket that said Golden Dragon Sunnydale. He looked like he was really into metal music, almost as if he were out of a Scandinavian music video, but when he spoke, there was a slight Portuguese accent to his English.

The man was paid, and given a decent tip, before Spike came back, taking a seat beside Buffy on the sheet. He set the two brown paper bags down, and pulled out a little white box, which he handed to Buffy, "here you go."

He then did something with the second one he removed, which might have blown her mind. He unfurled the box into a paper plate. Next, he withdrew chopsticks for each of them. "Aren't you going to open yours?"
Buffy Summers has posed:
And that had Buffy staring as she had her little white box in hand, the top flaps open and the metal handled folded to one side. But she had her chopsticks in hand as she just eyed the way he opened the box into what looked like a plate.

Then she looked at the box in her hand from every angle. Then back to his. "What did you do?!"

Obviously she had never seen this trick or experienced it. Like many people in the world, she just ate out of the box. While it was a box.
Spike has posed:
"It's a kind of magic," Spike said, grinning, before he set his down on the sheet, so that he could reach out for hers, but didn't take it until she gave him a nod or other positive indication. He would tug on the handle, undoing it slowly, and facing her, so she could see. He then undid the sides, and it unfurled into a plate. "Eating box style is easy from the top, but once it gets down to the bottom, it's a nuisance. These boxes are designed to open this way. You can try it with the next one." Since they had ordered a few different types of food.
Buffy Summers has posed:
"I thought Willow was the witch," Buffy murmured as she examined what he was doing curiously, paying attention as he unfolded her box of food and turned it into a plate of sorts.

Then she was into the bag and pulling out her next box. Which she quickly unfurled as he had shown her to do. "That's amazing. Just as long as you don't have leftovers. Good to have it still in box form for leftovers. I'll have to remember that. Thanks!"
Spike has posed:
Spike gave her a look as if she was crazy. Then he shook his head, took his own plate, and began to fold it back up, as there were hooks in the top, little paper ones, that kept it in place previously, and he sealed it back up. "From box to plate and back again. Some would say teaching the secrets of the universe like might deserve some kind of a reward," he said playfully, though he didn't expect anything but a smile or a laugh. "I've been around a lot longer than you, and I've learned a thing or two. Everything except how to get WiFi to a cemetery crypt."