And so it went on. The first act winding on down with the departure of Marley and the frightened retreat of Scrooge back behind his bed curtains.  Lights out simultaneous with Scrooge blocking the world to black.

They all sat silence in the dark for a moment gathering themselves and then broke into a heady applause, gradually winding down to a dribble when the house lights came up.

After several patrons had eased on past them to make their way to the Lobby.

Buffy turned to look at Spike, half expecting to see a pile of dust. Well maybe not dust, (she had been holding his hand) maybe some terrible catatonia.  She didn’t know what to say; obviously something profound was happening to him.  Sense memory coupled with a moral tale?  She waited.

He began speaking without looking at her and didn’t stop to look at her until he was finished.

“I’ve been alive a long time Buffy.  I’d forgotten how long, it doesn’t always play into things day to day.  I’ve been alive a long time, I’ve forgotten how long...and...and...now I’ve remembered.”

He paused and looked at Buffy and oh my god if he didn’t look a little older, a little wizened, she wanted to stroke the worry from his face...

“I’ve remembered everything.  Even from childhood.  Even all those days that have disappeared from view that you thought weren’t important...well turns out they are even more important because they are small.  It’s the small stuff that gets into the cracks of who you are and holds it all together like...cement or whatal’” 

He stopped for a moment and allowed her to stroke his cheek, press her palm up against his skin.  When he began speaking his voice was a shade lighter and spoke with an accent a shade more refined to standard and choose his words in a different way as he recalled being William.

“Who did we think we were back then? That set, those costumes took me all the way back and suddenly I remembered sipping tea and writing and poetry but that wasn’t what was wrong--because I at least tried to do something with myself but at the same time I used poetry to hide myself from the world.  I saw the grit, the poverty, small children sold into prostitution, you could see it there, it was right there, right there for gods sake on the streets like human refuse, but we, I drove by nose in a book, couldn’t bear it like a days work that might break me.  We lived off dividends, from stocks, from companies raping resources from the new worlds.  We were nestled away on lawns and green houses, we spoke even more genteel, stressed even more manners and relished high society because...because...we weren’t.  We were the bloody barbarians hiding under cover.  Parasites.  I went from being a leach to a vampire.”

Spike paused and looked away.

“I hated them.  Even back there, underneath it all I hated them...and that’s why I was disliked...they must have sensed it on some level...I hated them and the brittle veneer that would break under a word whispered out of proper sequence.  It could all break so easily because there was nothing real holding it together.  The ugliness of the world was too much for my eyes, my small mind, my small spirit and so I tried to find myself in bigger ones.  Shakespeare, Dickens...Coleridge...”

“But why is that wrong?  That isn’t wrong.”  Buffy offered.  “When you need a better idea...you go looking for it...”

“Dru?”

“But what did you intend?  Did you know?  Did it seem a bad idea at the time?”

Pause and then simply.

“No.”

Beat.

“No.  But I’ve been around 143 years Buffy, and now I remember it all, every moment...and it’s small. Except for you...it’s all small.”

They paused while Buffy took this in.  And her sharp laugh surprised him.

“Uh...your life may not have been ‘good’ probably way ‘evil’ even, but no way ever: ‘small.’  You are no small splash in the world and I’m not gonna sit here and stroke your ego so just face it.  You remember it all.  O.K.  Now come on.  You’re Spike.  So spike something.  Sure, yeah, give yourself some time, give us some time to build steam, but no way am I gonna believe you wouldn’t do something in the world with a bank book of 143 years of experience.  You have many ‘negative’ qualities all of which I love, cuz I love all of you...but selfish...and small has never, ever been part of the man I trust.  So there.”

And with that Buffy stuck out her tongue at him.

Spike stared at her straight faced.  “I dare you to do that again.”

“Dare?”

“Double dare.”

The Buffy’s eyes brightened and her heart quickened at the coming contest.  She darted her little pink tongue out to get a taste of imp and--

--quicker than a hot shot, Spike fastened his mouth on her and nipped her tongue with his lips. He gently coaxed her tongue all the way into his mouth, soothing her gently, making it easy for her to lose.

Finally he pulled away and left her gasping and somehow her hand had found its way into ‘lap’ territory.

“Gotcha” he murmured.

“How do you know I didn’t let you ‘get me?’ Had to let you win at something.   Poor pookey.  Sad sulky vampire, forced to walk dead on the earth in misery over your deeds and watch everybody have a good time. 

“Oh you picked that up too did you?”

“Kinda hard not to.  Dickens got something against the dead?”

“Maybe he had a bad experience with a vamp.”

“Maybe he...” and as she leaned in to whisper--

“SPIKE!  YOU RAT BASTARD!”

Both their heads snapped up at the sound and Spike spotting a smiling young man with jet black hair bounding down the aisle of the theatre toward where he and Buffy still sat next to each other.

“Andre?”  Spike asked and drew his brows together and tilted his head sideways as if to get a better look at this strange incongruity of friend in a foreign setting.

“Vous entraver le batarde rat!”  The young man spouted and then gained speed in English:  “SPIKE, you demon dog!  Bethany told me she saw you and I couldn’t believe it!”  Andre sputtered his English with a French accent.

“What are you doing in Denver?”  They both asked each other.   

“How did you know Mother was in the play?”  Andre burst out.  “Isn’t it wonderful?  An amazing production--she’s going to be amazing.  Imagine!”

“Mary is in the play?”  Spike asked reaching for his program, we got in just as the curtain went up--I didn’t see the program.”

“You didn’t know?  I thought...maybe...you came to see her...she will be so happy to see you...well you know, as happy as one might be to see the devil himself.”  Andre commented but ran on analyzing.  “But if you did not come to see her--how have you come to be here?”

As if by virtue of having remained so completely still, she drew both men’s’ attention to her.

Buffy.

“Oh...well, this would be Buffy’s idea.  And this would be...”

“Buffy...”  Andre roll, trilled the sound of her name in his mouth as he took her in.  His dark eyes gleaming in his handsome face he appraised her and found nothing wanting, in fact wanted her himself.  This woman fairly creamed and screamed sex!  The honey of her rolled away in pleasant waves for any male to spot and come running to see for himself.  Andre was hard just standing here in her presence. Yes.  He must have her.

Spikes low growl caught him completely off guard.  The hairs on the back of his neck sprang up and adrenalin fight or flight kicked in hard and fast and he was looking at his friend and heard the warning growl and knew that it meant...what he thought it meant. No male would mistake that sound.

He dropped his hand immediately and turned it instead palm up--the universal sign of appeal.

“Je suis si descole, Spike...really...”  Spike looked at him pointedly and Andre turned his attention to Buffy. “So sorry Manque...”

Low minny growl.

“Madame...”  Andre corrected himself “For my comportement de inapproriate...”

‘What inappropriate attention?  We’ve barely been introduced....”  Buffy shot a puzzled look to Spike, who took her elbow possessively and stared fixedly at Andre until he confessed.

“Pardon moi, I did not comprehend that you were together, Spike, here has many lovely female associates and...” Spike widened his eyes at this and Andre changed direction to the point:  “We have in our family line, a part of the siren song...it is not permissible, not in good taste to sing the siren song to a...” and here he stressed the word  “good friends...wife?  He tried the word and sensed their mutual approval.

“Oh.  In that case.  Bad  boy.” Buffy remonstrated.  “But what makes you think you would have an effect on me?”

Andre sputtered at her ingenuity, her lack of appreciation for his masculine appeal. Who was she after all? Well she did have Spike--

“Andre.  This is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

Stunned silence.

He could not have been any more stunned than if Spike had said here, meet, Archangel Michael.  And indeed there were similarities between the two.

Spike the Obscure and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  Andre hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud until he heard the sound of their gentle laughter.  Andre’s eyes grew warm and moist, he was French after all and this was love...

“You are she?”

Buffy simply nodded.

“You have saved my world, and now you love my friend?”

It seemed an impossibly personal question from a stranger but she sensed a future friend and so she answered.

“I have always loved your friend.”

Andre sighed.  “Mon ami, this is the she that has haunted you all these years?”  Andre asked Spike who said nothing, he then turned to Buffy:  “I did not think I would like you if we ever met--our Spike here has been alone all these years even my Mama...” and here he broke off, his gaze turning inward. “Sa live.  Such is life.  And after meeting you I am once again reminded there are always two sides to every story.”

Spike broke in to head the conversation in a different direction.  “Where’s Bethany? “

“You know how shy she is...she is waiting in the lobby for the verdict.”

The house lights dimmed.  “Ah...the second act.  Mama is playing the ghost of Christmas past--“

“Ah!”  Spike gasped.  “She’ll be bloody amazing!”

Andre’s eyes were alight with pride.  “Yes, yes and on short notice too.  The one, the actor playing the role became ill--and they called Mother and flew her in from London only three days ago.  I saw the dress rehearsal.”  Here he almost giggled.   

“Be prepared to be, how you say?  Blown away.”  And with that he laughed and bounded away only to stop and demand:

“We shall meet after the second act and share a cup of hot cider.  Oh how the Americans love to ape the British.  Why have a revolution if you can’t GET OVER IT!” 

And with that he was gone.  Buffy and Spike turned to look at each other and Spike said simply just before the house went to black as if it was the only explanation necessary.

“Andre.”

“Uh huh.”

Andre and Bethany and...and their Mother Mary and....how many other people to meet from Spikes new world?

She had wanted to go out, she had.  And she had wanted and wants to be with him the world and oh how true it is that when you set something loose in the world, a desire, a wish, a something, if it’s truly alive, if it has value, it will take on a life of it’s own and pick you up and take you on a wild ride through the world.

She had thought the only obstacle in their lives together would be her world, her family and her friends...she hadn’t even considered...his. 

Going into act two with the ghost of Christmas past coming to haunt Scrooge played by an ‘old friend’ of her intended coming to haunt her.

Yippee.

She wouldn’t survive the curiosity.

“Spike who is--“

“Shh, Shh”   Hushing sounds from the elderly matron.

“Let’s watch the play.”  Spike offered simply with a small smile on his face.

Rat Bastard huh?  What’s the story behind that?            

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