Believe In Me

The party was in full swing by the time Buffy, Angel and Spike arrived. It was at Oz’s fraternity, which Spike and Angel had both grumbled about considering they were far too old to be hanging out in a frat house. Buffy had begged them to go and both vampire’s were loathe to say no to their girl especially since Halloween was her favorite holiday.

With linked arms, they strolled up to the frat house of Alpha Beta Pi, and didn’t bother with the courtesies of knocking since it was apparent from the noise leaking from the house; they would have not been heard.

Bodies swayed to the blaring music and people leaned in to each other and shouted in order to be heard over the din. It was a fairly large house with a fairly homey ambience – as homey as it could be being occupied by boys whose idea of decoration was a poster of a half naked model and some framed paint by numbers.

Currently, most chairs were occupied along with the faded overstuffed blue couch in the center of the room along with overstuffed chairs to match. The fireplace, in which the couch was centered before, held what appeared to be a fake plastic cauldron to which Buffy rolled her eyes upon noticing.

The crowd stretched for miles, sweeping up the stairs at the far end of the room, and around to the right toward the dining area and kitchen. Fake cobwebs with plastic spiders hung in corners along with sporadically placed plastic skeletons. Someone had taken a cabbage patch and tied a noose around its neck, placing it on the door to the cellar. A platter sat in the middle of one of the many small refreshment tables with a mask of a monster in the center and red liquid surrounding it.

“Now remember, please be nice,” Buffy said, looking at Spike pointedly.

“What are you trying to say, pet?” Spike said, and Buffy could tell he was trying his best to look innocent. Which was a face Buffy could see right through.

“If I can count on anyone to go alpha male on me, it’s you Spike. Don’t try to even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You have a tendency to get all ‘grr’ on anyone who so much as glances my way and since I am going to school with most of these people, I’d really prefer you didn’t act like a total caveman and make everyone wonder if I’m secretly being beaten at home.”

“What about the fact that you’re with two men—“ Angel said, an eyebrow quirked.

“Who are, might I add, devilishly handsome?” Spike finished.

Buffy shook her head, laughing softly. “That’s easy,” she shrugged, “I’ll just have to be the slut,” she grinned and pecked both their cheeks and bounded off to find Willow.

Angel and Spike exchanged glances and while Angel found a somewhat isolated corner to sit in, Spike went for drinks for them. Grabbing a couple of warm beers, which made Spike scowl, he made his way back to Angel and handed him the plastic cup of beer.

Angel made a face. “Frat parties, ay?”

Spike settled in a chair next to him and leaned back to peruse the room with Angel. “Remember back in the days when a party like this meant buffet?” he mused, his eyes scanning the room in search of Buffy.

Angel shot him a look, “That’s not a fun thing to remember.”
Spike shrugged, “Not fun, but true. It’s easier to talk about if you can detach yourself from the experience. Besides, it’s not like I want to do that again; the soul wouldn’t let me. Though sometimes the demon craves the mayhem and violence. I suppose that’s why I wail on those demons and vamps we come across so hard. Get it out of my system.”

“I know what you mean,” Angel mused. “Sometimes biting Buffy takes me back to having someone’s neck as my chalice. All that warm blood sliding down my throat . . . It makes me feel guilty for craving that feeling again.”

“I figure at this point I’ve either atoned for my sins, or I’m well on my way. With all the shit we’ve been through, with all the good we’ve done saving that girl of ours—and especially with all that damn guilt—I’m going to make it to some heavenly plane one day, hopefully with Buffy by my side.”

Angel looked at him, startled.

“I don’t plan to be in this world for much longer after Buffy goes, mate.”

Angel nodded, “Me neither.”

“She wouldn’t hear of it either, so I don’t tell her. Sides, I plan on her living to at least a hundred.”

Angel smiled as he spotted Buffy coming towards them, smiling brightly. “Let’s go for a hundred and twenty.”

Spike grinned at that plan and beamed at Buffy. “Hello, luv.”

“Hi,” she greeted them and, locating a chair squeezed in between them.” Sorry I took off like that. I was anxious to see Willow’s costume.”

“What’d she come as?” Angel asked, wrapping an arm about Buffy’s shoulders.

She leaned in, resting her head on his chest. “She came as an Eskimo.”

Spike chuckled, “Now that I’d like to see.”

“Well, maybe if you left the corner you’d be able to see her,” Buffy teased.

Spike poked her in the ribs as he stood and she giggled, burrowing closer to Angel. “You want more beer?” he asked Angel.
“Not unless it’s cold.”

“That would be no then,” Spike said and melted in the crowd.

“Angel?”

“Sweetheart?”

“Will you dance with me? It’s a slow song now.”

Angel grinned and kissed the top of her head, “Sure, Buffy.”

Smiling, she stood and held out her hand. He took it and guided her to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the crowded room.

It was touching heaven to have Buffy in his arms and he thanked whatever Powers were responsible for bringing her into his undead life. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck as they moved to the music.

“Want to go home soon?” she asked and he nodded.

“Okay,” she said softly and snuggled closer.
“I love you, Buffy,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you too, Angel,” she said on a contented sigh and he smiled. He was settling into their dance when the music abruptly stopped and the lights went out. Angel and Buffy both jumped at attention. Loud blaring music with lots of base came roaring from the speakers and strobe lights flashed about the room.
Buffy gripped Angel’s hand, “I don’t like that.”

“Me neither.”

A scream echoed through the room. “And that would be why,” Buffy said before she dashed off to find the source.

“Buffy!” Angel shouted after her, but she was gone, melded in the crowd. He began to weave in and out, bumping into partygoers on the way. His eyes scanned for his mate and grandchilde.

Bumping into someone before him he mumbled an apology and his undead heart nearly leapt out of his chest when the person turned around. Blond hair, blue eyes and cherry red lips.

Darla. His Sire. The one he’d sent to hell.

“Hello lover,” she purred.

Angel reached out and grabbed her, to find out what the hell she was doing there when he was knocked back. The strobe stopped and the lights flicked on. Landing on his butt, he looked up surprised to find a woman in an I Dream of Jeannie costume glaring down at him. “Don’t touch me again, ya loser!” she yelled before stomping off.

“Angel, are you all right?” Buffy, his angel, his savior, was there suddenly by his side, Spike in tow.

“You all right, mate?” Spike asked, concerned.

Buffy held out her hand, but he refused her help and jumped up, feeling shaken.

He scanned the crowd desperately, searching for his Sire.

Nothing.

“Angel?” Buffy asked, placing a warm hand on his black jacket. “What are you looking for?”

He looked down into the worried face of his mate and shook his head, “Everyone all right?”

Buffy nodded, “Just some stupid girls screaming their heads off for nothing. Ready to go?”

Angel nodded, “Definitely.”