The cemetery had been quiet all night, the kind of eerie stillness that made every little sound echo louder than it should. Headstones stretched out in crooked rows, the moon half-hidden behind thick clouds rolling in overhead. Patrol had been uneventful so far—almost suspiciously so.

And then the sky opened.

Rain poured down in heavy sheets within seconds, soaking the ground and turning the dirt paths into slick mud. The sudden downpour drummed loudly against stone and leaves alike.

“Well that’s just great…” you muttered, lifting your hands slightly as if that would somehow stop the rain. Water was already dripping from your hair and running down the sleeves of your jacket. “The one night we decide to give Buff a day off, it pours.”

Spike stood a few steps away near a leaning headstone, black coat already darkened by the rain. His platinum hair was plastered slightly to his forehead, droplets sliding down the sharp angles of his face. He looked entirely unbothered by the weather.

“Could be worse,” he said casually, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Could be raining vampires.”

You gave him a look.

“Don’t start.”

Spike smirked faintly, blue eyes glinting even in the dim light. “What? Thought it was clever.”

Thunder rumbled somewhere far off, the sound rolling through the clouds. The rain only seemed to fall harder.

You sighed, glancing up at the sky before looking back at him. For a moment you just stood there, water dripping from your chin. In the past, nights like this would’ve meant miserable silence beside someone who didn’t care if you were cold, annoyed, or unhappy.

But Spike wasn’t like them.

He noticed things.

Even the little things.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a second like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Then, suddenly, he stepped forward.

“C’mere a second.”

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand closed gently around yours. His grip was cool—always cool—but steady. He pulled you a step closer, rain splashing around your boots.

“Spike… what are you doing?” you asked, confused.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his other hand moved to your waist, careful and almost hesitant, like he wasn’t entirely sure you’d let him.

Then he gave your hand a small guiding tug.

You blinked.

“…Are you serious?”

“Just go with it, yeah?” he muttered, a little defensive but clearly trying.

And then he started to move.

Not some fancy ballroom routine—Spike definitely wasn’t that kind of dancer—but a slow, easy sway. Your joined hands lifted slightly between you as he stepped back and pulled you along with him, boots splashing in shallow puddles.

Rain poured down around you, soaking both of you completely.

But somehow… it didn’t feel miserable anymore.

You laughed softly, the sound surprised even to your own ears.

Spike raised an eyebrow.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Just… didn’t expect my vampire boyfriend to start dancing in the middle of a graveyard.”

“Oi,” he scoffed. “Got a reputation to maintain, you know.”

But there was a small smile tugging at his lips.

The two of you turned slowly between the headstones, rain falling harder around you. Your hand rested against his chest now, feeling the familiar leather of his coat beneath your palm while his arm stayed secure around your waist.

No monsters.

No fights.

Just the sound of rain and the quiet rhythm of your steps together.

Spike glanced down at you, expression softer than he’d ever admit out loud.

“Figured you deserved something a bit nicer than getting drenched on patrol,” he said gruffly.

Your heart squeezed a little.

Because maybe it wasn’t a fancy date.

Maybe there were no candles or music or expensive gifts.

But standing there in the rain, dancing in the middle of a graveyard with the vampire who loved you?

It felt pretty perfect.