This was a bad idea. Vampires were creatures of the night, made for destruction and mayhem, the joy of the hunt and the kill. They were not supposed to stand around in one of the Bronze's private rooms at a Chamber of Commerce mixer with a plastic cup of cheap white wine in one hand and a plate of spicy Buffalo wings in the other. Most definitely they weren't supposed to be listening to various members of the business community talk about the rigors of commercial life while wearing a red and white name tag that read "Hello! My name is William, the Magic Box" stuck to the front of their shirt.
The only thing Spike could possibly find to be grateful for in the whole sorry mess was that a) no Scoobies were present except Tara, who'd dragged him here in the first place and b) no one else he knew was there. He hadn't realized when Anya appeared in his crypt, eyes red and nose running, that she'd be gone for nearly six weeks with no word. Three weeks ago, Tara had called Giles to let him know his partner had decamped and who was minding the store. After the watcher had finished sputtering, he'd said he'd be there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, 'as soon as possible' was now almost two weeks away at the earliest and Giles had asked that Spike and Tara carry on.
"I didn't realize Anya had expanded her store personnel." At the moment, "carrying on" meant answering questions from the half-dozen women the Chamber's perky little she-devil Mandy had introduced him to just before she spirited his duster away to the coat check. A surreptitious glance at the name tag on the front of her neatly tailored suit reminded Spike this was Maria from Sun Cleaners, almost directly across from the store.
"Um, Tara and I are just helping out while Anya's away." Spike craned his neck, searching the crowd. Tara was half-way across the room, listening politely to a businessman in the traditional suit and tie.
"Do you have any idea when she's going to be back?" Jean from Insta-Frame asked. "I mean, she'd intended being gone only a week or two on her honeymoon. It's been, what, five weeks?"
"Six." That was Colleen, who ran her own accounting business. "I'm a little worried. Quarterly taxes are coming up and there are some things we need to discuss, particularly if she's taken on two employees." She smiled up at Spike. "Maybe we could discuss it. I mean, I assume she is paying you. We could meet; go over your W-2."
Spike had no idea what a W-2 was, but he had a feeling tax forms weren't the only thing on the lady's mind. He couldn't help a grin; nice to see he hadn't lost his touch, even if certain slayers seemed immune. "Probably should wait until Giles shows up; after all, he is still part owner."
Colleen looked a bit disappointed, but Harriet perked up instantly. "Rupert Giles is coming back to town? I had no idea."
Clearly Giles had his own fans. "In a couple of weeks. I think Tara has more information."
Cautiously, he balanced the plastic cup on his plate, freeing his left hand to wave in the hope of attracting Tara's attention. Luck was with him, and she nodded her head in acknowledgement.
"You are still hosting next month's mixer, aren't you?"
The question seemed to come out of the blue, and Spike couldn't help but stare at Colleen. "Pardon?"
"Next month's mixer. The Magic Box is supposed to act as host." At his blank expression, Colleen continued. "Hosting duties rotate through the various businesses. I believe Anya said she was planning to have it at the shop itself."
Oh, crap. He should have remembered Anya was big into the networking. Where Demon-girl found the time between the various crises the Scooby Gang had to deal with, he'd never know. If she was back, she'd be furious if they cancelled the shop's participation without speaking to her. If she wasn't back…
"Of course we are," he said cheerfully, reassuring himself Anya would return to take up the reigns. "Plans are going swimmingly." Turning on as much charm as he could muster, he smiled at the assembled ladies. "I trust we'll see all of you there."
There were smiles and assurances that they wouldn't miss it, along with offers of assistance if he needed it. Yup, he definitely still had it.
Tara arrived, eyebrows lifted slightly in that calm, quizzical way of hers. "Harriet wanted to know when Giles was coming in. I thought you could fill her in since you talked to him last. If you'll excuse me, ladies."
Spike made his escape, downing the contents of his cup in a single gulp. He needed to get rid of this plate; he wasn't going to have a chance to eat and the growling that had begun in the pit of his stomach wasn't going to be settled with spicy hot wings, anyway. Soon as he could get away, it'd be back to the crypt and a large helping of blood.
The plate got dropped off on one of the trays scattered about the edge of the room for that purpose and Spike headed toward the bar. "Beer," he said to the bartender.
"I'm afraid you'd have to go out to main bar," the man said apologetically. "They only ordered up wine for in here."
In the old days, Spike likely would have reached across the bar and snapped the man's neck before heading out for his drink of choice. Who was he kidding? In the old days, he wouldn't have been caught within ten miles of a nancified party like this. "Red wine."
There was no one else at the bar, so Spike felt free to linger. Once again, the libations the Bronze served proved unmemorable, the wine flat on his tongue with a sharp aftertaste. Snatches of conversation buzzed in his ears like gnats and he wondered if Tara would be annoyed if he took off. His casual comment of a few weeks ago about buying Anya out seemed to have taken root within her and it had been her insistence that they begin to take part in the business life in Sunnydale that landed them here tonight. Shouldn't surprise him, really; in some ways, she was as much at loose ends as he was. Working in the store seemed to give her a sense of place and she was proving much more adept at handling customers than one would expect with her shy nature.
"Spike! The last person I would expect to see at such a social occasion."
Spike turned his head slowly to one side. Willy. Just perfect. "What the hell are you doing here and why are you bothering me?" he growled.
"I was asking myself the same question. I mean, here I am at the monthly mixer — I am a member of the Chamber of Commerce, after all," he proudly indicated his tag (blue and white) which read "Hello! My name is Willy, The Alibi Room," "and who do I see across the room but my old friend Spike."
Willy squinted at Spike's tag. "William? That's your real name?"
Spike took another swig of wine. "As in 'The Bloody.' I know you know the reputation."
"Yeah, yeah. Killed two slayers, scourge of Europe and all that. I'd heard you were working for Anya."
"I'm just helping while she's away. Any buzz about D'Hoffryn and what he's up to?"
"Hey, you know I'm not in the snitch business anymore."
Spike didn't even bother to dignify that one with a reply; just finished his wine and asked the bartender for another glass. "So you're just a fine, upstanding businessman," he said at last.
"That's why I'm here; to mix with my fellow upstanding businessmen. Also for the women. Have you noticed how many members are female? A bunch of them are single as well." Willy nudged Spike in the ribs. "I noticed that they noticed you."
Which meant Willy's surprise at seeing him was feigned. "D'Hoffryn. What have you heard?"
"I don't give away freebies, Spike. Not good business."
"You owe me, Willy. Time to pay up."
"I don't owe you nothin'. What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the time you brought the bleedin' Slayer to me while I was trying to heal Dru. Bolloxed it up proper."
"I owe you for that? You were the one who put the bounty out on her, which you didn't pay, I might add. Anyway, I heard you'd dumped Drusilla and were sweet on the Slayer."
Every ounce of common sense told Spike to walk away, but he ignored it. He was edgy and Willy was just as good place to take out his frustration as any. He couldn't hit, but he could intimidate and it was always fun watching Willy squirm. "I don't want to hear you mentioning Buffy again," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You know, I do owe you, Willy. I promised I'd only kill you once and I've never made good on that."
The smaller man looked nervous. "I…I thought you couldn't hit humans."
Spike moved a little closer, letting his eyes flicker between blue and yellow. "Aside from the fact there's considerable debate as to whether or not you're actually human, I don't necessarily have to do it myself. Remember the Order of Taraka?"
Willy swallowed. Spike smiled. Time to let a little fang show. "D'Hoffryn, Willy. What have you heard?"
"Is everything alright here?" came a worried little chirp.
At the sound, Spike spun around, his features melting back to their human form. It was Mandy, the woman who worked for the Chamber of Commerce. She stood there looking quizzical in her pink suit and perfect hair, as if she feared the bar might have run out of something or the appetizers had gotten cold. "Everything's fine, Mandy," he told her through gritted teeth. "Willy and I were catching up."
Mandy smiled in a manner far too reminiscent of a 'bot for Spike's comfort. "And you told me you didn't know anyone here. Oh, I almost forgot; here's you claim ticket for your coat. Just show that when you're ready to leave."
He took the small square of cardboard and shoved it into his pocket. "Thanks."
"And I need to talk to you and Tara about next month's mixer since The Magic Box is supposed to be the hosts. Can I come by the store on Thursday afternoon?"
"I'm there, but I need to check with Tara. She's got classes."
"As long as you're there, I'm sure we can get started. Now, don't forget to mingle."
She gave him a smile and went on her perky little way. Great. Hopefully Tara would be free Thursday afternoon and he could palm this off on her. Turning back, he discovered Willy had, not surprisingly, scurried off. And again, great. He'd hoped he'd get some info about Anya. This evening was turning out just lovely.
Enough was enough and Spike decided to tell Tara he was heading home. She was still talking with the women he'd left her with, so he headed across the floor. His luck held; just as he drew near, Maria turned suddenly, knocking his arm and causing his glass of red wine to splash onto the left front of his shirt.
Spike looked down as the wine dripped, causing the ink of his name tag to run onto the blue fabric. His evening was now complete.
"I am so sorry," Maria said, dabbing at the fabric with a napkin. "Harriet, will you get me some more napkins?"
Tara was frowning, head cocked slightly to one side. "Are you okay?"
No, he wasn't. He didn't want to be here and nothing had gone right. "Just tired. I'm going to go home and have myself a beer, watch some telly."
Maria was still dabbing at his shirt. "You should let me buy you one." At his surprised expression, she amended. "I just knocked your drink over, so it's the least I can do. That and get your shirt cleaned."
"Thanks, I guess. Look, you don't need to…"
"I insist. In fact, you'd better take it off. I'll get some club soda and see if I can't get the worst out."
Spike did as he was told, slipping off the still-dripping shirt to reveal the black t-shirt beneath. Tara smiled as one or two appreciative murmurs arose. "Need some ice?" she asked wickedly.
"No thank you," he replied, but he couldn't help feel the corner of his mouth twitch. A month ago, Tara would have been the last person he expected to enjoy the ladies' reactions, but he was coming to appreciate the sense of humor which ran beneath those still waters. "Doing just fine."
Maria had departed, muttering something about how hard it was to get ink out of silk. Colleen sidled up beside Spike. "Why don't we get you that beer?" she suggested. "I think things are winding down here."
It didn't take much persuasion to get Spike out into the main room. He felt a little better there, on familiar ground. Colleen procured a beer for him and a Manhattan for herself while the others who'd followed ordered a variety of cocktails. Somehow, Spike ended up on a barstool while the ladies gathered around him. Conversation flowed easily now, removed from small talk about business and customers.
This he understood. The preening which had seemed so out of place at the mixer was natural here as the women gossiped about the music, food and people who weren't there. Work was done and play time had begun. Spike had always been a faithful retainer to Dru, but he'd spent more than one evening like this in the bad old days, sizing up a group of women for a possible meal, using his charm to lure them closer. He felt himself slipping into the old habits, even though he knew full well there would be no sharing of blood tonight.
Smiling as Jean told a story, he noted Tara standing slightly outside the circle, her hands empty. "Not having anything?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I'm supposed to meet Willow soon."
He cocked one eyebrow suggestively. "Thinking of a nice quiet dinner for two?"
Tara ducked her head and looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. He just grinned broader, lifting his beer in slight salute. Moving on, getting your life back together. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Glancing about the circle of women, he suddenly realized why Anya came to these events and why Tara had insisted they come. All of these women ran stores and businesses up and down Sunnydale's main drag but they were also part of a community, a circle of friends, acquaintances and rivals that helped give that community life. For too long, his circle had been limited to the crumbs the Scoobies threw him and the few friends he retained in Sunnydale's underworld. Move on, get your life back together, reach beyond the expected.
Tara glanced over toward the tables and waved. "There she is. I'll see you tomorrow, Spike."
He nodded as she moved away through the gathering crowd. Maria, who'd just rejoined the group, looked up curiously, laying a hand on his arm. "Spike?"
"My nickname. Long story."
"Sounds interesting. I'd like to hear it some time."
She was smiling up at him and he realized he was going to have to come up with some kind of story that would be acceptable for non-demon company. He had a feeling he was going to be seeing a lot of these women in the coming weeks.
Trying to give himself time to think, Spike looked after Tara. She had reached the table where Willow sat. Along with Buffy and Xander.
Who were both glaring at him.
Oh, crap.
On to Part 2
On to Episode 3: Reactions I