Title: "Uninvited"
Author: Mala
E-mail: malisita@yahoo.com
Spoilers: "The Prom"
Rating/Classification: PG-13, Spike songfic, sap, angst
Disclaimer: If these characters were mine, Spike would be chained to my bed. And Buffy would be with him. And Angel would be. . .clogging up my Dustbuster. The lyrics to "Uninvited" belong to Alanis Morrisette.
Summary: There's an uninvited guest at the Prom...and he watches Buffy and Angel from the shadows, longing to cut in.

The leonine blond in tails had crashed the Prom. But no one cared. He was human in appearance, not slobbering or killing things, so the Sunnydale High prom committee would let the transgression go. In fact, some of the girls on it were distracted from their dates, hooked momentarily by the striking face and the dark, violent eyes, before chills up their spines turned them back to their safe, college-bound football players and track stars.

Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me
Like any hot blooded woman
I have simply wanted an object to crave
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

He stalked through the crowd, never once taking his eyes off of her. Much like the very first time he'd seen her, she was dancing. . . surrounded by her friends. Glowing, golden, even after fighting the latest horrors of the Hellmouth. A sensual vision. But the picture was wrong this time. Wrong.

She was in Angelus's arms.

Spike wanted to howl. He wanted to rip a few happy couples in half and bathe in their blood. It should be me. Me. I can match you.. I can give you years of laughs and fights. I can make love to you.

Must be strangely exciting
To watch the stoic squirm
Must be somewhat heartening
To watch shepherd meet shepherd
But you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight.

He moved around the slowly swirling couples. . .the light was shining down on her hair, her cheek. He needed to see. Couldn't stop. He'd come back for her. The most idiotic of fancies, but he had. Watched her wake up after sleeping too late in his sire's bed. . .listened to her heart break in that sewer as the silly git read the writing on the wall out loud. . .and he'd watched her stuff away the pain and best those hellhounds.

"Oh, Girl. . .Girl, don't you ken yuir mine?" The Irish in him came out at the worst times. Her face had lit up when those sheep gave her that spangly parasol. And he'd wanted to grab her up, hold her tight, and swallow that smile. His first taste of sun in ages.

But instead, he hung back in the shadows. Watched. Again. Like now. Her head on Angel's shoulder. . .his hands on her waist. She looked like a goddamned Venus, draped in rose. . .risen from the foam.

Like any uncharted territory
I must seem greatly intriguing
You speak of my love like
You have experienced love like mine before
But this is not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight

He wanted her. More than anything he'd ever wanted these past 200 years. Eternal life. . .infamy. . .Drusilla. Maybe. . .maybe just one dance?

"No," he coughed to himself, shaking his head. He was mad. Loony. Even without a bottle of Tequila clutched in his fists, his brain was pickled. He was drunk on her. She won't dance with ye, Mate. Won't ever be yours as long as she's got him. As long as she can kiss his face. An' see him.

He swept behind a pillar. . . watched her reach up. . . and touch that face. A finger tracing across dark eyebrows with so much tenderness. Slayer, Slayer, won't it ever be me? There was a ragged hole inside him. . . and he wanted to impale it on a stake. But he knew he wouldn't.

"S-spike??" A shocked, guarded voice at his ear. "Spike, what are you doing here?" A hand clamping down on his shoulder.

Her Watcher--the good one, not the pansy. He didn't have to tear his eyes away to know. Or to reply. "Waiting," he whispered. "Waiting for him to leave."

"I-I'm afraid if you want to start something with Angel, now is not the right time." Mortal breath in his ear, and he felt the arm go around his shoulders in a mask of friendliness. . .but the librarian could also snap his neck. There was strength in the grip. "He and Buffy will no doubt be quite occupied."

It wasn't Angelus he wanted to start something with. "Not now," he said hollowly. . .Cor, she's kissin' him. Damn. That lush mouth. Those sea-colored eyes. "But he'll go soon enough. . . an' I'll be here. I'll be waiting. . . for her."

I don't think you unworthy
I need a moment to deliberate

He didn't even notice the Watcher let go. . . and move away. Didn't see the Watcher's wonder at the tears that were tracking down his cheeks. He just leaned his forehead on the pillar. And waited.

*



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