Scent of a Woman
by indie

Spike watched her from across the Bronze.  She was trying to get rid of the guy gracefully.  Not that she didn’t want him, she did.  Therein lay the problem.  Poor bastard was confused as hell due in no small part to the Slayer’s very mixed signals.  Did she want him?  Did she not?  The answer was yes.  And no.  Working his way through his sixth beer, Spike laughed openly at the scene playing out between the Slayer and her little man nurse.

Ben.  That’s what the Niblet said the food’s name was.  Oh yeah, she also mentioned the fact that Buffy liked the bitch.  Liked him?  What the fuck did that mean?  She liked him.  Jesus H. Christ it’s not like she was Marcia Fucking Brady!  What business did Buffy have liking anybody?  She was one of the meanest goddamn predators to ever blight the face of the earth.  She was as visceral as they came, all hormones, teeth, claws and cunt.  She was the bane of every undead’s existence.  And she liked the man nurse.

What an insult.

How dare she try to pretend to be a normal girl.  She wasn’t normal.  Never had been.  Never would be.  And thank fucking god for that!  Who the hell wanted to be normal anyway?  Wasn’t that the whole point of the miserable human adolescent existence, the not being normal?  They all wanted to stand out in a crowd, be noticed, have something that set them apart.  Shit, that’s why the little fuckers were going bug nuts, getting into daddy’s at-home-arsenal and blowing away their peers.  So they could be different, be noticed.

And here was the Slayer trying as fucking hard as she could to be Miss American Pie.  Wasn’t being a super hero enough for her?  What else did she want?  She saved the entire fucking world, but that somehow wasn’t fulfilling enough.  No, too empty.  She needed to be the scourge of the forces of darkness and get finger fucked by the captain of the football team in the backseat of his car after Friday night’s big game.

Okay, so that wasn’t quite true.

Buffy was way past the finger fucking stage.

Still, what did it matter?  She was trying so hard to be something that she never could be and that by his estimation she should never even want to be.  What exactly was the appeal?  He knew she didn’t really prefer the sweaty, panting, easily-tired, human males.  The ones that were so dense they had no idea why she was concurrently giving them a “come hither” and a “don’t fucking touch me” look.  Hell, Riley was sticking his dick in her regularly and he couldn’t even get her attention.  How much of a chance did little Ben really have?

And why was the Slayer even bothering with this nonsense?  If she wanted the little bitch why didn’t she just take him?  It wasn’t like he’d say ‘no’.  And if he did, who cares?  The world was hers and she refused to grab it by the balls.  That would be wrong.

Ha!  What a fucking joke.  Laying his seventh empty can on the table, Spike watched her give the food the final brush off.  They were all the way across the room, but Spike could hear her promises of coffee and a call.  He was bored, itching for some action, and since he couldn’t go over and kill the man nurse, he settled for following the Slayer.  Sure, she’d beat the shit out of him for mocking her, but the chip didn’t cause him any discomfort for inflicting mental pain.  What a pleasant surprise.

“Slaaaaaayyyyyyer,” he called after her as she made her way down the alley.  He was actually surprised when she didn’t try to feign deafness.  Not that it would have fooled him, she knew the second he walked out the door that he was following her.  Of course, he’d wanted her to know that, but that was neither here nor there.

“What do you want?” she said, spinning and raising her hand.

He didn’t even bother to try and evade the punch, what was the point?  He let his head snap back with the force, minimizing the damage to his face.  He didn’t feel an abundance of pain, she hadn’t put much force behind it, and he’d had a six pack and a spare in a little over a half hour.  Laughing, he wiped the blood from his mouth and then licked the back of his hand clean.  She made a face.  He loved it when she did that.  It was so ... coy.  She dated Angel for years, wasn’t like she was shocked by the concept.  “He doesn’t know, Precious.  You’re just confusing the lad,” he said, grinning wildly.

She stared at him like he said something in Chinese - which he hadn’t.  Learning every fucking foreign language on the planet was Angel’s bag, not his.  He stuck to English, mother tongue and all.  What a nice turn of phrase.

“Huh?” she finally prompted when he didn’t expound on his earlier statement.

“Benji,” he stated very clearly, “your doggy little man nurse in there.  He doesn’t know why you’re giving him the mixed signals.  You really should be more forthright with him, Pet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped and then walked off.

“You want him,” Spike needled her retreating form.  It didn’t take much to set her off.  She was marching back to punch him in the face in no time.  As he picked himself off the ground, he was laughing again.  “Don’t deny it,” he said.  “You want him, Precious, but you won’t take him because it’s ‘not right’”

Cocking her head to the side, Buffy bit out, “I don’t pick up guys in bars and take them home.”

Spike looked at her, she really wasn’t following his insinuations worth a damn.  “The hell you don’t, Tart,” he said brashly.  “That’s not why you left him in there to pine over you.”

She was fuming.  “Oh really?” she yelled.

With a wicked grin, he caught her off guard, pushing her backward into the alley wall.  “Don’t play dumb with me, little girl,” he said dangerously.  “I know why you’re not taking him home.  I’m a vamp.  Wonderful sense of smell, especially for ... blood.”

Oh, she definitely got his insinuations this time.  The look on her face was priceless, all contorted with rage and embarrassment.  “How dare you?” she raged, punching him in the face again and throwing him off her.

He didn’t bother trying to get back up.  “You really should give him the benefit of the doubt, Pet.  Be honest with him.  Some human men are into that.  Blood, I mean, not honesty.”

He stopped laughing when as he studied her expression.  She didn’t even appear to be mad anymore, just mortified, ashamed even.  Without a word, she turned down the alley, quickly hurrying towards her house.  Spike looked after her, confused, and then gave chase.  He caught her several blocks from her house.  “Pet, I was only playing with you,” he explained to her fast retreating form.

She stopped, and slowly turned to him, her body language still awkward.  “Playing?” she asked, but it was more horrified than angry.

“Well,” he floundered, “yeah, I guess so.  I mean, I was trying to mess with you, but I never expected you to take it so ... personal.”

“You didn’t expect me to take ... that ...personal?” she hissed.

He thought about it for a while.  “No.  Not really,” he answered honestly.

“Did they take a few things out when they put that chip in?” she half yelled, half whispered.  “How could I not take that personal?  I’m not in the habit of telling guys on the first date that I can’t take them home because it’s that time of the month.”

“I don’t expect you had to,” he said rather thoughtfully.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her brow furrowing at his line of reasoning.



“Angel.  You know, great big poof.  Wears a lot of black.  Answers to Peaches.  Vampire,” Spike rattled off cavalierly.

As understanding dawned she turned crimson.  “You mean Angel ... knew?”

“Most definitely,” he said firmly.  She hadn’t known?  “The poof never told ya?”

“No, it never came up” she said through clenched teeth.  This whole conversation was just too uncomfortable.

“Huh,” he said in mild surprise, “I figured the big nonce would have taken advantage of that.”

“Taken advantage?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah, sure,” he said brashly.  “I mean if you’re not a warm feeder you have to get it where you can find it and if you have a hot little Slayer girlfriend, well, there ya go.”

“No,” Buffy ground out, “he never ‘took advantage’.”

“What a fag,” Spike laughed.  He actually wasn’t shocked, Angel was too much of a “gentleman”.  What a fucking joke.  If he’d been in the fruit’s place, he would have exploited that little happy coincidence from the very beginning.

“So, what,” Buffy started, “you mean that if you had a human girlfriend you would ... ”

“Without a doubt,” he answered shamelessly.

Her jaw almost hit the ground.  “That’s just ...just ...“

“Too good of an opportunity to pass up,” he supplied, knowing full well that wasn’t the direction she was headed with her response.

Ignoring his last comment, Buffy asked, “So you can always tell when a woman is ...”

Spike looked at her like she was a stupid child.  “I’m a vampire.  So was your one true love.  It comes with the territory.  I could smell you from across the room.”  He continued as she gasped, “Of course, you are a Slayer, so it’s more ... potent.”

Throwing her hands up, she hissed, “I’m going home.  This is all too much.”

Giving her a sly grin, Spike asked, “So is there any chance of me maybe getting’ a taste, Slayer?”

Walking away quickly, shaking her sore hand, Buffy decided she wasn’t concerned if he didn’t regain consciousness before dawn and ended up a little pile of dust.


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