Thanks for Sharing
by Laura Shapiro

SPOILERS: <snort>
SUMMARY: Buffy meets a stranger and finds unexpected comfort.
DEDICATION: This is for Cody.
NOTE: This is an answer to Hal's Little Black Dress challenge.
 

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Thanks for Sharing
by Laura Shapiro
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Something was coming, something big, and this time Giles' books
were no help at all. Willow had managed to find a few paranoid
suggestions on the Internet, but nothing concrete: something
about shape-shifters and government conspiracies.

"Whatever," Buffy sighed, shoving her stake further into her
pocket. Her pants were tight, the pockets shallow, and the darned
thing kept sliding up and poking her in the ribs.

Word on the street was that the demons knew what was up, and even
*they* were lying low. Spike was out, damn him. She was going to
have to go to Willy's.

And yeah, going there at night was a stupid thing to do. Well,
technically it wasn't quite night; the world was in that film
noir phase between sunset and moonrise. The leaves glinted
blackly against a grey sky. Anyway, it was early enough. It
wouldn't be crowded.

It wasn't. Just Willy, slimy, disgusting Willy, and a lone dark
figure at the bar. Its back was to her. Medium build, no horns or
scales or anything. Probably a vamp, except...she wasn't getting
a vamp vibe off it. Him. Huh.

Willy took one look at her and made for the back room, but she
was over the bar in a second and had him by the scruff of his
sweaty little neck.

"Willy. What's wrong? Aren't you glad to see me? I thought we
were friends."

"Slayer. You -- you got a lotta nerve coming back here." He was
shaking like a leaf, and she eased her grip just a little.

"I'm thinking you're not so good at the threats right now. Look,
I don't have time for this. Just tell me what's got all the
demons freaked, and I'll be on my merry way." There was a
dark-bright flicker behind her and to her left; the not-a-vamp
guy was paying attention.

"I don't know nothing about that, honest."

"Now why do I find that so hard to believe?" Buffy drew back her
free fist.

"Aliens," Willy gulped. "That's what they're all saying. Aliens
living inside people. Turning their blood all funny." Not-a-vamp
guy was definitely interested now. She caught a flash of his face
out of the corner of her eye -- pale as a vamp, dark brows, a
small, pointy sort of face. Cute.

"Funny?"

"Yeah. The vamps can't drink 'em, the demons can't eat 'em. It's
been great for business. In fact, I've been thinking about
putting in a kitchen back here..." She gave him a warning glare.
"That's all I know. Really."

Buffy looked into his beady little eyes, saw that he was serious,
and let him go. Vaulting back over the bar, she wished for a
second she could order coffee and sit down for a while. She
needed to think.

Aliens. She was willing to bet the Scoobies' entire arsenal of
books and magic would be useless in a situation like this. Giles'
voice meandered through her mind. "...like nothing we've ever
faced before..." Armageddon again. Oh, goody.

"That was some nice work, just now," a voice said quietly, and
she turned to get her first good look at the guy who wasn't a
vamp. Oh yeah, he was cute all right. Dark, glossy hair falling
half over his pale forehead, laser-like green eyes, black
leather...hmm...something odd about his arm.

"What, threatening to pummel people for information? Oh, yeah,
that kind of thing goes over real big with the evil."

Cute guy's mouth quirked up on one side in an almost-smile, and
there was a tasty little shiver of heat running through her
chest. Whoo. Careful.

"What makes you think I'm evil?"

"Why else would you be in here, drinking --" a glance down at the
bar revealed something that contained ice cubes, lacked any
disgusting lumps, and was a perfectly normal color. It had a
straw in it. "drinking your, okay, it looks like a Coke, but --"

"Root beer, actually. Dr. Brown's, hard to find on the West
Coast." His small, pink mouth wrapped itself around the straw and
sucked. The guy had serious cheekbones. Wow.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled, a knifelike smile that reminded her a little of
Angel. No, not Angel's smile. Angelus. It would have
been helpful if cute guy weren't quite *this* cute.

"A lot of people would like to know the answer to that question,
including me." There was a laugh in his voice. She raised her
eyebrows at him. "Someone who's looking for the same thing you
are. Someone who wants the same thing you want."

"Gee, cryptic much? How the hell do you know what I'm looking
for? What I want?"

"You're the Slayer, right? You want to save the world."

It's not so much about *want*, she thought. "And you want to save
it, too."

"Yes. And I assure you, I know just how much of a pain in the ass
it is."

Warily, Buffy took a seat on the stool next to him. She didn't
like being fascinated by people as weird as this. Probably he was
just some loony with delusions of grandeur, but there was a kind
of dogged tiredness about him that seemed real. Familiar. He
looked like he understood.

"Don't tell me *you* have a sacred duty."

"I can't think of any duty more sacred. Oh, did you want a root beer?"

Was this guy for real? "Um...sure."

He went around the bar himself and found a bottle. "No need to
trouble Willy."

Oh, shit. She hadn't even realized the bartender was gone. What
if he was off telling his vamp friends that she was sniffing
around for information? What if --

"Relax. He went down to the back room. I can hear his TV." He
handed her the bottle and then a glass, and she realized that one
of his arms was fake. It only strengthened her feeling of
kinship. He'd made sacrifices.

And that made her think about Angel again, and Giles; brave, sad
people like he was, fighting and mostly losing. Except...this guy
didn't seem sad. He was tired, but he had a crazy kind of
optimism, too. A spark in those green eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Alex Krycek. I'm a single white male, age 37, height and weight
proportionate. I like movies, cats, and long walks on the beach."

Buffy laughed. "Thanks for sharing." The root beer was very good.

He seemed to enjoy her laugh, but there was a pause. He looked
soberly into his glass, and then up into her eyes.

"You can't stop them. You aren't built for it."

And she hated that, being underestimated, hearing "you can't".
Faster than human eyes could follow, she'd drawn, turned, and
hurled the stake, which pierced the dartboard in the exact
center. The dartboard gave a little shiver and then shattered to
the floor.

Alex's lips parted appreciatively, and Buffy felt smug. But then
he said, "That's not what I meant. Physical strength and speed
are strong weapons --"

"And accuracy. Don't forget accuracy."

"And accuracy. But you need a lot more for this fight. Diplomacy.
Negotiating skills. Access to people in power."

"You're saying I can't just kill them. The aliens. Don't they
die, like everything else?"

Alex stroked his chin. "You do have a point."

Buffy drank the last of her soda. Bye bye, sugary goodness,
hello, long night ahead of her. "I should go. Are you going to
tell me anything, or are you just going to be mysterious guy?"

He smiled, and there was less of the knife in it this time. "I
can't tell you. I'd have to kill you."

And the thing was, she believed him, and she could also see that
he meant it in the nicest possible way. She really didn't want to leave.

"I'm not going to just forget about it, you know. I have --"

"-- a sacred duty?"

"Something like that." She slid off the barstool. "Look, Alex, it
was very...weird meeting you. Let's do it again real soon."

He reached out to her then and cupped her chin in his palm. It
was cool at the surface, where he'd held his glass, but there was
heat underneath. His fingers were calloused and rough. She could
have flipped him over her back without effort, but she was held
breathless by those eyes. He leaned in, and she smelled leather
and burnt sugar. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and she
thought, like Glinda's kiss. Only much sexier.

Much, much sexier. He lingered there for a moment, and she had a
hallucinatory flash of his tongue slipping out to taste her, and
then he was sitting comfortably back on his barstool, lifting his
glass in a kind of salute.

"Um. Yeah. So...thanks...or something, and I really should have
gone already," She was flustered, she was babbling, she was
leaving. Quickly. Before she threw herself at him.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her and shook it off. On the
street, she was already planning. Giles could be diplomatic.
Willow was good at negotiating. And okay, maybe none of them had
access to people in power, but she had strength and speed and
don't forget accuracy...and she knew that someone else was out
there, trying to save the world.

END