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Violently Happy	By : marksandspence Category: BtVS Crossovers > Misc - Het - Male/Female Views: 3217 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Part1a
- 2-Part1b
- 3-Part1c
- 4-Part1d
- 5-Part1e
- 6-Part2a
- 7-Part2b
- 8-Part3a
- 9-Part3b
- 10-Part3c
- 11-Part4a
- 12-Part4b
- 13-Part4c
- 14-Part4d
- 15-Part5a
- 16-Part5b
- 17-Part5c
- 18-Part5d
- 19-Part5e
- 20-Part5f
- 21-Part5g
- 22-Part5h
- 23-Part6a
- 24-Part6b
- 25-Part6c
- 26-Part6d
- 27-Part6e
- 28-p.s. Flight of Fancy
- 6
- 7
- 8
Scene 4
Spike and Miranda are back in Sunnydale.
Buffy and Spike are on their way somewhere (either going to or heading back from patrolling) and are walking down a street in town that has restaurants and shops. Things are still awkward between them—Buffy still just doesn’t know how to act around Spike, now that he’s dating one of her good friends—it’s just too weird and she is suspicious of the whole thing anyway (still thinks somehow that it’s a ploy to make her jealous) and so never actually mentions Miranda when they’re together. Pretty much the entire Scoobie gang is behaving this way—total denial/lack of acknowledgement that M & S have a ‘real’ relationship. Spike still has residual feelings for Buffy, which he mostly ignores, but it’s enough to make him feel somewhat uncomfortable when they’re together and therefore he is as unlikely as she is to bring up Miranda. Anyway, they’ve mostly done what they set out to do—one more quick stop left to check out something in town that Giles had told them about and then they’ll go their separate ways. Spike decides to break the awkward silence with a little chit-chat.
Spike: “Aren’t you going to ask?”
Buffy: “Ask what?”
Spike: “Where we were last week?”
Buffy: “You were gone?”
Spike: “Had a nice little mini-break in L.A.”
Buffy: [the mention of L.A. has an immediate effect, but she hides her reaction] “First, why would I care and second, who goes to L.A. for a vacation?”
Spike: “Antique dealers, apparently. Miranda had a thing. You’ll never guess who we ran in to.”
Buffy: [Crap. Her heart beats fast as a million things run through her mind about what might have gone on. She stops walking and turns to him] “I’d guess you’re going to tell me.”
Spike: [sensing her agitation and getting a mild thrill out of her actually paying attention to him for once] Your brooding and ever-pleasant ex. He’s gotten a bit puffy since the last time I saw him—virtually lost his neck entirely. Don’t worry, slayer, I behaved myself.”
Buffy: “Too bad he did” [she starts walking again]
Spike: [ouch] “Wicked girl. Tell me, why am I here? Oh, right, I remember now...because you ASKED for my help”
Buffy: [only a touch of sincerity] “Sorry, the words just slipped out.”
He’s about to say more, but he catches a glimpse of something in the window of a restaurant they’re walking by and stops to look more closely.
Buffy: “What?” [Spike doesn’t answer, so Buffy walks back to where he’s looking. There, in the restaurant, is Miranda, eating dinner with a man. Buffy doesn’t say anything and starts to walk] You coming?”
Spike doesn’t really want to say anything either—he’s shocked, but he also isn’t sure he wants to make a thing about it in front of Buffy—he is well aware that none of the scoobies think Miranda actually cares much about him and he would rather not bring attention to the fact that there she is, out with another guy. He takes a few tentative steps to follow Buffy with a very confused look on his face and then stops. He can’t hold it in.]
Spike: “That was Miranda back there”
Buffy: “Yep”
Spike: “Once again, out with someone we don’t know.”
Buffy: “Looks like it”
Spike: [to himself] “Perfect bloody timing, innit?” [to Buffy] “Just on the off chance that I’m missing something here, having not exactly dated in the human realm since, well, never, am I right in thinking that what we just saw would normally not be considered acceptable girlfriend behavior?”
Buffy: “Depends.”
Spike: “On?”
Buffy: “Well, whether it’s actually a date or not. What did she say she was doing for dinner?”
Spike: “I don’t know—We don’t really do food. What difference does it make?”
Buffy: “There are potentially acceptable circumstances.”
Spike: “So what you’re saying is that walking in there and ripping his head off may not be the right way to go?”
Buffy: “No. Definitely no ripping of heads—besides, he’s probably human.”
Spike: [annoyed] “Thanks for reminding me. [grabbing her arm and pulling her back to where they can see in the window] Well, do your ‘bird telepathy-signal’ thing that you go on about.”
Buffy: [Annoyed at being pulled around, but mildly curious to see what Miranda is up to. She takes a look] “Ooh, not looking good for you, Spike. Expensive dress, hair up, polished nails—flowers on the table. And she looks completely relaxed. Could be a date.”
Spike: “Right then. I’m going in.”
Buffy: [grabbing his arm] “You can’t just barge in there. I mean, have you guys even had ‘the talk’?”
Spike: “What talk?”
Buffy: “You know, the ‘we’re not going to see other people’ talk—because unless you’ve had ‘the talk’ you’re technically not cleared for violence of any kind in this situation.”
Spike: “What kind of bollocks is that?”
Buffy: “Hey, I don’t make the rules”
Spike: “Luckily, I don’t follow ‘em anyway.” [He heads toward the entrance to the restaurant.]
**
Backup a few minutes; perspective is now at the table of the restaurant where Miranda and her date are having dinner. It’s a very posh restaurant—unusual for California, it is obvious that there is a dress code. The gentleman she is eating with is in his late 30s/early 40s and is decidedly average looking and a bit on the portly side.
Date: “This vintage is superb—It makes all the difference for this dish. One sip, followed by a mouthful of the lamb and it simply transcends anything I’ve had before. Would you like to try it?”
Miranda: “ooh, I’d love to. [she takes a sip of the wine and then a forkful off the lamb]. You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t impressed when it first arrived, but with the lamb, I haven’t tasted anything better. You say you have this vintage in your cellar?”
Date: “Yes. I was lucky enough to secure 6 bottles on my last trip to France. One of these days, you’ll have to let me fix you dinner—who am I kidding? You’ll have to let my chef fix you dinner at my house. I might be persuaded to open another bottle.”
Miranda: “We’ll see. I like to explore the local restaurants when I move to a new area—I’ve got plenty more to try! [conspiratorially] Shall we get something else to go with dessert?”
Date: “Dessert? You have quite an appetite—it’s simply delightful to have found a partner in crime when it comes to culinary overindulgence.”
Just then Spike blasts past the hostess and arrives at the table; he turns a chair around and sits down straddling it, facing them and says casually,
Spike: “Enjoying your dinner, I hope. [As he grabs the wine bottle sitting on the table] Do you mind? [he takes a swig from the bottle] Not bad. Not bad. Prefer something a bit more metallic, myself.”
Miranda can’t help but laugh a bit at this. Her date is shocked and flustered.
Date: “Can we help you with something?”
Spike: “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date, Miranda?”
Date: “Miranda, would you like me to call the police?” [He pulls out his cell phone]
Spike: [grabbing the phone] “Amazing how small these things are.” [he crushes it to bits in his hand]
Miranda: “It’s alright David. Spike, perhaps you’d like to step outside with me for a moment.” [she stands up]
Spike: “Maybe. Maybe. Will you excuse us, Orson?”
Miranda leads him out the back door, shooting apologetic looks to the hostess.
Miranda: [angry] “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Spike: “Me? What am I doing? You’re the one out on a date.”
Miranda: “So?”
Spike: “So?!? Forgive me if I find it a tad bit off to find my girlfriend out on a date with another bloke.”
Miranda: [dismissive] “Oh, but David is perfectly harmless.”
Spike: “What, are you still mad with me about the thing in LA? Is that what this is about?”
Miranda: “What? [honestly surprised] No. Of course not. I wouldn’t go out on a date just because I was angry.”
Spike: “Which leads us to...what the hell are you doing here with that overgrown stuffed shirt? Is it a date or isn’t it?”
Miranda: “No. Well, yes. But of course I’d never let him near me. He’ll be lucky to get a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night and that’s only if he behaves himself. Listen, I’m here with him because I was in the mood for a nice meal at a nice restaurant. He comes into the shop now and again. We talk about food and wine and other such things and he asked me to dinner. I didn’t see the harm.”
Spike: “And I can’t take you to places like this, is that it?”
Miranda: “Spike, you’re not listening. It has nothing to do with you. Food is a kind of a...[pause, what’s a good word for it?]...hobby for me—I take a great deal of pleasure from it. And, really, appreciating a good meal is something that you simply can’t share with me for obvious reasons and that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean I should have to give it up entirely.”
Spike: “You could eat alone”
Miranda: “It’s not the same and you know it. Like I said, it will go no further with David or anyone else.”
Spike: “But he doesn’t know that, does he? I mean, look at you in your sexy dress with your breasts all hiked up and the hair and the perfume—there’s no way Shamu is interested only in your taste buds when you look like that.”
Miranda: “So it would be Ok if I went out with Sh...David or someone else if I wore a frumpy dress.”
Spike: [considering] “No. You’d look too sexy in a bloody burlap sack.”
Miranda: [despite herself, she can’t help taking a bit of pleasure in the compliment] “This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”
Spike: “Shouldn’t it?”
Miranda: “It should not. And might I ask how you came to be in this neighborhood in the first place? [a bit concerned] You weren’t following me...”
Spike: [angry at the implication] “I’m not a bloody stalker—I’ve got other things to do with my time. I was patrolling with Buffy.”
Miranda: [indignant] “Oh is that all? Well then! Just spending the evening traipsing around in the dark with the woman you’ve admitted to recently being in love with. And here you are giving me a hard time about being out with David, who is practically the poster child for celibacy.”
Spike: [this takes him a bit by surprise, but after a moment he gets it] “I see what you’re trying to do—it’s not going to work.”
Miranda: [continuing as if he hadn’t said anything; sort of tongue-in-cheek, but with mock seriousness] “I mean look at you in your new pants and your sexy fitted shirt—that is so NOT a patrolling shirt—and is that cologne I smell?” [pretends to sniff him] and don’t even get me started on the coat.” [By this time she can’t hold back a smile and a bit of a laugh. And he’s smiling, too.]
Spike: [playing along] “Yeah, laugh all you want. You SHOULD be jealous. I looked so good tonight, Buffy was this close to abandoning her whole world view and hero sensibility for a quick shag behind the 7-eleven.”
Miranda: “No doubt. Back to reality for a moment, perhaps we should, you know, talk about this.”
Spike: [the word ‘talk’ makes him bristle slightly, as it does all men] “Talk. Uh yeah.”
Miranda: “So. Does this mean that you’d like me not to see any other men at all. Just you.”
Spike: [thinking about this for a moment] “Well, yeah. I mean, no—no other men; [pause] or vampires; or demons of any kind.”
Miranda: “And the same goes for you?”
Spike: [thinking—not wanting to get caught out] “Sure. [smiling] But to be fair, I suppose we should exclude women as well as it hardly would seem a sacrifice otherwise.”
Miranda: “Alright then”
Spike: “So that’s it?”
Miranda: “That’s it.”
Spike: “Not as bad as I was expecting—don’t know what those talk show buggers are on about all the time. Still, there is a certain simplicity in the way vampires usually go about this sort of thing—someone gets bitten, someone crawls out of a grave and pretty much you go straight to sharing a crypt.”
Miranda: [smiling] “I suppose I should send David on his way.”
Spike: “You can finish your dinner if you like. [he lets his gaze slowly move from her face downward to the rest of her body] S’long as you promise to keep that dress on when you come over later.”
Miranda: “If you put on some cologne, it’s a deal. But one more thing: What about women? I.e. having dinner with.”
Spike: [mock contemplation] “Ok. But no lesbians. [pause] And you have to wear burlap.”
End Scene.
Scene 5
A week or two later. Outside Miranda’s apartment building. Spike is pressing the buzzer to her apartment. Nothing happens. He presses again and still nothing. He’s about to ring again, when someone comes out and lets him in. He walks up to her door and knocks. There’s no answer, so he knocks again louder and calls her name. Still nothing.
Spike: [under his breath] “Bet she’s got those bloody headphones on again—shoulda just let the neighbors complain.”
He leaves and walks to a payphone across the street and calls her number—the answering machine picks up. He goes back to her apartment and knocks again—very loudly this time. This provokes a neighbor (young and friendly girl) to peek her head out the door.
Neighbor: “What’s all the noise about?”
Spike: “Miranda’s got those bloody headphones on again and she can’t hear anything.”
Neighbor: “You mean these headphones? [she produces a very nice set of headphones—the substantial kind that cover your ears entirely] I borrowed ‘em from her last weekend. Do ya’ think that she might just not be home?”
This results in a scowl from Spike and the young woman puts the headphones on and shuts the door.
Spike: [looking a bit concerned; knocking again] “Miranda?” [He thinks of something and searches in his pockets. He pulls out an implement and starts to jimmie the lock. He gets it, turns the handle, but when he goes to push open the door, it won’t budge—he notices the dead bolt.] “I know you’re in there—it’s a vampire thing. You alright?” [still nothing] “Miranda! If you don’t answer me, I’ll break down the door.”
Switch perspective. We’re now in Miranda’s apartment. Miranda is sitting on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest. She looks like hell—her eyes are red and puffy from crying, her hair is unbrushed and scraggly and she’s very pale. Her sword is carefully placed just next to her—more like a source of comfort than a weapon. On the coffee table sits an unopened bottle of scotch and an unfolded, but then untouched packet of little blue pills. Her eyes are at once terrified and distant—as if her mind is somewhere else. We hear what she hears, which is a very muffled version of the noise of the door being pounded and Spike’s voice—she hears something but her mind is not in a state to process it, so she doesn’t move. After more pounding, she finally reacts when Spike says that he will break down the door. Like someone who has a terrible headache and doesn’t want to make any unnecessary movements, she gets up and walks toward the door. Her gaze is fixed on nothing. When she gets to the door, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath—it’s as if one small part of her has come back to consciousness, while the rest of her is elsewhere. With all the strength she has, she speaks to the door:
Miranda: “I can’t see you tonight Spike. I’m sorry.” As soon as she finished saying this, she drifts out again and stares into space.
Spike: “What’s wrong? Are you sick? [no response] Miranda? [pause] Miranda!”
Miranda: [still in a dreamy kind of voice] “I can’t see you. Please come back tomorrow.” [she starts to move slowly back to the couch]
Spike: “Come on, Miranda. Open the door at least—let me see you’re alright. [no response; he pounds again on the door; thinking of another approach] I brought ice cream [he hasn’t]; it’s your favorite—the kind with the cherries in. [no response; he can sense that something is very wrong; back to frustration] Just open the door. I promise I’ll go away if you just let me see you. [nothing] [anger now] Miranda! If you don’t open the door, I’ll break it down and your landlord won’t be too happy about that now, will he?”
He detects movement towards the door. After a moment, the door opens just the length of the chain. When he sees her, she’s looking down.
Miranda: “Please Spike. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Spike: “Look at me.” [after a moment, she moves her eyes up to his; seeing him actually appears to break her out of her haze for a moment and her expression comes alive] You’ve been crying.”
Miranda: “Please. I...I’m just...dealing with something. I want to be alone.”
Spike: “What’s wrong?”
Miranda: “I can’t...there are things...just things, OK? . I’m no company tonight. I won’t be angry that you didn’t stay. I’ll be fine tomorrow...or the next day. [seeing his confused look] I don’t expect...I don’t expect you to be that kind of boyfriend.”
Spike: [a bit hurt] “What kind is that then?”
Miranda: “Just go. You said you’d go if I opened the door.”
She’s drifting off again. As if there is a memory that takes over her senses and draws her in as she relives it. She scrunches up her eyes as if cowering from something and the tears start to flow. She closes the door and moves back toward the couch to take up her former position. Before she gets there, her eye catches sight of a piece of paper sitting on the coffee table—the sight of it causes her to get a look of panic. She quickly turns back to the door and opens it. Spike is leaning against the wall, obviously trying to decide what to do.
Miranda: “Do you have--could I borrow your lighter?”
Spike: “Can I come inside?” [she nods and unlatches the door, still looking like a frightened rabbit. She takes a couple of steps in the direction of the couch, then stops; her eyes cast down, she keeps the sheet of paper that is on the coffee table in her peripheral vision. As before, her mind seems to float in and out. Spike reaches for her hands and when he touches them] “Your hands are shaking.”
Miranda: [pulling her hands away and shooting a glance at the coffee table and says in a voice with a touch of panic] “Lighter?”
He fishes in his coat for the lighter and hands it to her. She takes another couple of steps toward the couch, then stops and tries to use the lighter. Spike thinks she wants to smoke, so he pulls out a cigarette and offers it to her. She ignores it. Her hands are shaking so much that she can’t get a flame. She starts getting very panicky and then stops and takes in a breath as if to calm herself.
Spike: [he walks over to her and takes the lighter from her hands] “What are you trying to do, love? Tell me and I’ll do it for you.”
Miranda: [she seems to have calmed herself down a bit—her breathing has settled and she walks to the couch and sits back down in the position she was in before. She puts her hand around the handle of her sword and grips it—this calms her further. She stares at the piece of paper and says without looking up in a labored voice] “That piece of paper, there. Could you burn it for me?”
Spike: [He’s completely confused by her behavior—he’s never seen her like this—terrified—of something. He walks over to the table and grabs the paper—she flinches and then watches him look at it. Through his eyes, we see a sketch of a man’s face—very close up so that you only really see his eyes, nose and mouth. He’s dark and stern—the eyes are drawn in more detail than any other feature.] “Did you draw this?”
Miranda: [She nods; more tears are streaming down and she’s rocking a bit, hugging her knees tightly into her chest. Spike looks back to the picture and studies it. She watches him and after a moment in a very meek voice says] “Lighter?”
Spike: [He takes the lighter and easily gets a flame and lights the corner of the drawing. When the flame gets close to his hand, he sets it down on the table. Miranda’s eyes follow it intently as it burns down. Spike sits down next her and touches her hair] “All gone. [after a pause] Did he hurt you?” [She just looks at him for a moment and turns her head away. It’s obvious that the answer is yes. She actually already appears a bit better—at least it seems that she is all there now. Spike’s tone is calm and very serious] Just tell me where he is and I’ll take care of it.”
Miranda: [still snapping out of it, she looks confused (by what he said?) for a moment as she looks at Spike] “Already dead. Long ago. [pause] I killed him.”
Spike: [confused] “Oh. There’s a twist. So what’s the problem?”
Miranda: “A dream. Last night. I think it was last night—what day is it? He was there. I couldn’t move. He was coming for me. [She closes her eyes tightly as she remembers and she’s getting upset again. She snaps out for a moment, opens her eyes and looks at Spike] I should’ve been able to fight him. This time. I had my sword. Different from before. But I couldn’t move. And he was coming closer and closer and I couldn’t move—something was stopping me.
She’s crying and obviously terrified. She reaches out to grab her sword again, but this time misses the handle and grips the blade, cutting herself. She doesn’t flinch.
Spike: [softly, he moves to put his arms around her] “It was just a dream, love. You said yourself—he’s dead—he can’t hurt you now.”
Miranda: [pulling away slightly and sounding a wee bit hysterical] “But...but what if he wasn’t human? I come here and there’s all these things that don’t really die when they should and what if he wasn’t dead when I left him?”
Spike: [confidently] “Then if he comes by, I’ll rip him to pieces. I’ll kill him. That’s where I can help you most, if he’s not human. No need to worry, I’d take care of it. [looking at her tenderly] God, what did he do to you?"
He can’t get over how terrified she is—she didn’t seem to be the type to really FEAR anything—especially not a mortal.
Miranda: [at this Miranda starts to shake again and get that far off look] “No...no...no...no. Can’t say. Won’t remember. No...”
Spike: “It’s OK, it’s OK—don’t tell me. [he lifts up her face so she can see him] “It’ll be OK.”
She continues to cry for a moment and then she appears to think of something and starts to pull out of it again. She wipes the tears away and suddenly seems more lucid.
Miranda: “You’d just do that? Without knowing any more—you’d kill him?”
Spike: “Sure. ‘know what he looks like—what else would I need to know?”
Miranda: [she takes this in for a moment, processing.] “You could kill him. You could protect me [she says these words as if this is a completely new concept for her]. I...I’ve never been with someone who...I’m always the one ‘protecting’...or alone. [She looks at Spike, seeing him clearly for the first time since he came in—this seems to calm her instantly. She must have been shivering, because now she now seems distinctly still. She puts her hand out to touch him, as if to make sure he’s really there. He gently pulls her closer and she rests her head on his chest and takes a deep breath] And if you didn’t get there in time—you’d look for me? You’d find me?”
Spike: “Yeah, love. No worries.”
After a few moments resting there with his arms around her, she sits up and gives him a small smile, then grabs a tissue.
Miranda: [quietly] “I think I could use that cigarette now.”
Spike: [lighting one and handing it to her] “Welcome back—thought I’d lost you for a minute there.”
Miranda: [a touch of embarrassment] “The dream was so real—I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that kind of panic—couldn’t pull out of it. It’s been such a long time since...[shakes her head. Suddenly wanting to change the subject] Didn’t you say something about ice cream?”
Spike: “It was just a ploy to get inside. Couldn’t bear to miss this barrel of laughs.”
Miranda: [she throws a tissue at him] “I’d like to state for the record that if I had been in my right mind, I wouldn’t have let you in and subjected you to this pathetic spectacle. I hate that you’ve seen me like this.”
Spike: “You do look pretty crap”
Miranda: “Thought you might find the ‘death’ look appealing. And that’s not what I meant.”
Spike: [giving her a ‘duh’, I know that’s not what you meant look, but continuing to lighten the mood] “Sure, you’ve got the pasty white skin, but then there’s the red, puffy eyes and the greasy hair—ruins the look entirely.”
Miranda: [she smiles and blots her eyes with a tissue] “Do vampires cry?”
Spike: “Yeah, sure. [pause] Not often. [trying to remember] Pretty rarely.”
Miranda: “You realize you’re dating a woman who has lived for 140 years—I’ve got a hell of a lot of baggage. Don’t tell Buffy and the others, but I’m actually kind of messed up.”
Spike: “Secret’s safe with me”
Miranda: “I’m just saying—you don’t want to go opening too many doors.”
Spike: “What, and be THAT kind of boyfriend?”
Miranda: [pause] “Want to take a walk? I’d like to show you something.”
Miranda takes Spike to the house she’s just acquired—she’s having it refurbished. It’s an old, stone house—VERY unusual for California and a bit English in appearance—it has an enclosed garden. It’s a mess now from the construction, but should be ready in a week or two. It belonged to an old witch—many years ago, she had made a deal in which she paid cash for the house in advance. The house is then turned over to Miranda after the death of the original owner. Miranda has entered into such arrangements with a variety of old houses (and their slightly out-of-the-ordinary owners) that she fancies across the US and this one came up at about the right time—it’s why she picked Sunnydale in the first place.
End Scene.
Scene 6
Miranda’s new house, a couple of weeks later. There’s a moving truck parked outside and all the scoobies are carrying boxes into the house—it’s just before dusk, so no Spike. Miranda is in the front room nearest the door, directing the flow of boxes to the appropriate rooms.
[Author's note: I’m going to keep the dialog to a minimum in this scene, so use your imagination for the witty ‘moving in’ banter. I will simply skip to the more interesting parts.]
Miranda: “Master bedroom, downstairs; Spare room, upstairs; kitchen—well, in the kitchen, this floor; everything else should be fairly self explanatory. I can’t thank you all enough for helping out—I just don’t trust movers. I promise to cook you all a fabulous meal once I’ve unpacked.”
Willow: “This is a beautiful house. I remember being terrified by it as a kid—some creepy old lady lived here.”
Xander: “Ah, Old Mrs. Trebert. Everyone said she was a witch.”
Willow: “Xander! Kids only said that because she was old and kind of spooky and lived alone—I’m sure she wasn’t REALLY a witch.”
Tara: “We know better now—witches aren’t ugly old women—[looking at Willow]—sometimes they’re beautiful and hip.”
Miranda: “Oh, she WAS a witch. And an ornery one at that. Thought she’d live forever!”
Willow: “Oh.”
More moving of boxes. Buffy is carrying a box of papers without a lid on it and she trips slightly and a couple of the things on top fall out. As she is putting the papers back in the box, she finds the Angel Investigations card, with a phone number handwritten on the back.
Buffy: “Where’d you get this?”
Miranda: [squinting to see what she’s holding] “Oh, right. They were in charge of security—sort of—at the antique forum in LA a few weeks ago.”
Buffy: “So you met Angel?”
Miranda: “Yes. Worked with him quite a bit that week—nice fellow, actually. I think he quite fancied me. Left me his cell phone number. I was a bit of a pill to him, though, in the end. Why, do you know him?”
Buffy: “Spike didn’t tell you?”
Miranda: “It was obvious there was bad blood between them [so to speak], but he didn’t tell me why exactly and he didn’t mention you.”
Willow: [trying to save Buffy from explaining] “Buffy and Angel...uh.”
Xander: “Had a thing a while back.”
Willow: “Yeah, a thing.”
Anya: “A HUGE thing. A first love/love-of-a-lifetime, earth shattering, heart wrenching kind of thing. Well, until he left her”
Xander: “Anya!”
Buffy: “It’s OK. Nutshell versions aren’t my favorite, but they give the gist.”
Willow: “There’s a lot of history between them.”
Miranda: [a slight contemplative frown as she puts things together] “I had no idea. [doesn’t know exactly what to say in response to the emotion/tension floating around the room] Sorry. (?)”
Buffy: “No, it’s ok. Things are fine between us. Everything’s worked out for the best.” [not entirely convincing]
A few minutes go by as they’re looking in boxes to determine where things should go. Some ‘looks’ are passed between B/W/X and they whisper to each other—we can’t hear. After a moment.
Buffy: “Maybe you should call him.”
Miranda: “What?”
Buffy: “I just think, maybe, you might get along. He may be the right kind of guy for you.”
Willow: [finishing the thought] “So maybe you should give him a call.”
Miranda: [She absolutely can’t believe what she’s hearing] “Ok, newsflash for all of you who haven’t been paying attention for the past month, I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.”
Xander: “We’ve noticed that you have something with Spike. And I’m not one to say that you shouldn’t get your jollies anyway you want to, but...”
Willow: [interrupting] “Xander, “jollies”? What he’s trying to say is why not keep your options open—you never know what could happen.”
Buffy: “Angel’s special; he’s a great guy.”
Miranda: [indignant] “You’ve all discussed this?”
Xander: “We just think you deserve better.”
Miranda: [mixture of annoyance & confusion] “So a different vampire is exactly what I need, is that it?”
Willow: “Angel’s different—he has a soul. He’s a GOOD guy.”
Miranda: [steaming with anger now—you can tell there has been a lot brewing beneath the surface. She’s ready to RANT] “What does that mean, exactly? Everyone keeps saying that, but what does it MEAN? Do I have a soul? You appear to think so, but do you know for sure that I do? I don’t know. You’ve seen what happens to Immortals when they die—whatever’s inside them gets sucked into the one who killed them. Is that the ‘soul’? Do I have all the ‘souls’ of all the Immortals I’ve killed just hanging about inside me? Is that what will happen to me? Or is it something else? Before, I always thought talk of ‘souls’ was metaphorical, but you people discuss it as if it were a tangible thing.”
Buffy: “It is a real thing and it’s something Spike doesn’t have and that’s why he can never be like us.”
Miranda: “And that’s the point, then. To be like us. One thing I know for certain is that over the years I have witnessed remarkable acts of cruelty committed by those with souls—those like us. So I for one am not willing to draw the line so firmly.”
Buffy: “You’re not being rational about this.”
Miranda: “Maybe not, but I don’t wish to discuss it anymore. Suffice it to say that I don’t have something with Spike, I have a relationship with him—would it kill you all to acknowledge that just once. I’m not blind to what’s going on. Ignoring it won’t make it go away. I just wish you could accept it and maybe even be civil to him once in a while. The way you treat him is just appalling—after all he does for you. Regardless of your opinion of him, the fact that he is my boyfriend and you are my friends should lead you to at least be polite when we’re together. In fact, I don’t know if I can take much more of your little comments to me and your little insults to him—if you are incapable of civility, then perhaps we shouldn’t be friends.”
Anya: “I can be civil—Xander’s been teaching me all about how to be fake.”
Miranda: “Thank you, Anya. That means a lot” [Anya smiles proudly]
Xander: “But it’s Spike. He couldn’t care less what we say to him.”
Miranda: [shrugging] “Maybe you’re right. But I care”
Willow: “And as for the ‘all he does for you part’, you kinda came in after the multiple years of his trying to kill Buffy and plotting against all of us. He almost bit me. Twice.”
Buffy: “And what’s with the emphasis on “boyfriend” in all of this—maybe you should call it what it is.”
Miranda: [livid] “For your information, I was planning on asking him to move in here with me, so if you’d prefer ‘live-in lover’, I’d be happy to oblige.”
At this, we get an outburst of balking laughter.
Buffy: “You’re kidding, right? Ha ha, I get your point. If it’s that important to you, I suppose...”
Miranda: “But I’m not kidding. He lives in a crypt. It’s not as if we spend much time there anyway. It makes perfect sense.”
Xander: “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard; you can’t be serious. Can she be serious?”
Miranda: “And why do you think I had them convert the basement to a master bedroom?”
Willow: “I thought maybe you just liked to sleep-in.”
Buffy: “Oh my God, you are SO living in an alternate reality. What, you’re going to keep him here like some exotic pet? He’s a vampire; vampires don’t live in houses.”
Willow: “Castles, maybe, but definitely not houses.”
Buffy: “You can’t just turn him into a man by treating him like one and pretending that he is. Let’s not even focus on the you wanting to live with a vampire part for a moment; Do you really think he’d go for it? He’s not exactly what I’d call the domestic type.”
Miranda: [pouting for a moment—this hadn’t actually occurred to her (that he might not want to move in)] “He might.”
Xander: “He is SO not going to give up his crypt—you may be confused about what he is, but I think he’s actually pretty clear on it. It’s a silly, silly, idea. If it weren’t so wrong, it would be kinda funny. [thinking about it for a moment] You’re welcome-mat could say ‘bugger-off’ and...”
Buffy: [to Miranda] “I wouldn’t go there.”
Just as she says this, Spike walks through the door.
Spike: “Go where? [not waiting for an answer] Not L.A., I hope. Hate that place—bad luck or something always. So did I miss it all?
Miranda: [thank goodness! She’s obviously pleased to see him] “No such luck. We saved you the biggest pieces.”
Spike: “Brilliant—ever consider that you’ve got too many things?”
Anya: [overly enthusiastic with a little wave] “Hi Spike. [pause because she can’t think of anything else to say] Miranda has something she wants to ask you.” [they all glare at Anya; she responds defensively] “What? I can’t wait.”
Spike: [taken aback by Anya’s greeting—confused frown. He can tell that something is up by the way everyone is stiff and quiet. He turns to Miranda in anticipation] “What is it?”
Miranda: [Though initially annoyed at being pushed into this, she figures, ‘what the hell’?] “I hadn’t intended on being so public about it, but uh, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to move in here with me. Of course, you could have your own room--if you wantet--for privacy.” [she holds her breath]
They’re all doing a bad job pretending not to be listening intently. Spike can tell that this is probably what caused the tension in the room when he came in.
Spike: “Can I smoke? [She nods; they pass a look between them—it’s a ‘we can work out the details later’ look] Yeah, all right. Was wondering when you’d get ‘round to asking—I mean, why else would you put the bedroom in the basement?”
Miranda shoots a look to X/W. Spike turns to leave.
Miranda: “Where are you going?”
Spike: “Should get started packing up my things.”
He leaves. Everyone is quietly shocked.
Miranda: “So, what do you say to giving ‘civility’ a revisit?”
They shrug in agreement, knowing that they’ll be talking about what just happened a bit later.
End Scene.
- 6
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Violently Happy