Two months.
Spike had been back in Sunnydale for two months.
It had been the most frustrating two months of her life.
Buffy was in the training room taking her frustrations out on the punching bag.
"You annoying," Thwack "smart alecky," Thwack
"blond," Thwack "smirking," Thwack "junk food
eating," Thwack "jerk!" Thwack Thump Thwack Thwack.
She stopped and stepped back, winded. Her skin was covered with a fine sheet of
sweat. She had been in here working out for the better part of an hour, and the
more she worked, the more worked up she became.
Two lousy months. Two months of seeing him every day and patrolling with him
occasionally. In all the time she had spent mourning his death, she had never
once remembered how completely annoying Spike was. Completely. And she couldn't
even punch him in the nose anymore. She missed punching him in the nose. Some
nights, she even dreamed about punching him in the nose.
Giles had never annoyed her. Well maybe sometimes, just a little. But with
Spike the aggravation never stopped.
He also never touched her. At least he never touched her in a way that wasn't
impersonal or related to helping her adjust her fighting stance. Some nights
she came in from a successful night of patrolling in the mood to mix it up some
more with her old sparring partner. Invariably he would either be sitting at
the research table with his nose buried in yet another Watcher's Diary, or he
wouldn't be in at all. He would be out rustling up a poker game somewhere or
playing pool and drinking beer at the Bronze.
Some nights he came in sporting a black eye or split lip. He didn't go in at
all for the more sedate activities preferred by the other members of the
Watcher's Council. He called them all poofters. He felt he could get more
information on the flow of evil around town by keeping his ear to the ground.
He was already fluent in several demon dialects and knew first-hand the habits
and inner workings of the vampire society, so why should he spend all of his
time studying ancient texts for second-hand accounts, particularly since many
were inaccurate? He had become almost unglued when he read one account about
his own turning that would have put his age somewhere around two hundred.
"Bleedin' idiot." He had muttered repeatedly.
Last night after Buffy had returned from patrol, he had been out yet again. She
had decided to track him down. He was at the Bronze again, chatting up a tall
curvy blonde. Buffy had hated her on sight. Spike evidently hadn't. Buffy had
stormed up and insinuated herself between the couple. Spike had just glared at
her with his nostrils flaring.
"I need to talk to you" she spat out.
"I'll talk to you later," he had replied, frowning down at her.
"I'm busy now."
They had glared at each other for a good twenty seconds before she turned and
stomped out. Grrr. The women! More often than not when she tracked him down
here he was nuzzling up to some woman. OK, maybe nuzzling wasn't exactly what
he was doing, but he certainly was enjoying talking to them and, heaven help
her, listening to them. How could he spend so much of his time listening to
other women when she as there, waiting for him?
Tonight she had shown up at seven for their scheduled training session and he
was now almost an hour late, if he was going to show at all.
"Lousy excuse for a Watcher if you ask me." she snerked before
swinging her leg up and around to connect with the head of the workout
mannequin.
"I guess that would be me you are bitchin' about again, pet."
Her concentration was shattered and she missed the dummy completely, landing
unceremoniously on her butt. She turned furious eyes toward him.
"And where have you been while I've been in here working my ass off?"
She confronted him angrily.
"I didn't know I answered to you, love. Thought it worked the other way
around." His voice was calm, almost flippant. "Besides, it was my
understanding that you had outgrown the need for a Watcher. I'm just for show,
isn't that how you see it?"
This just angered her more. She stood up and brushed off her bottom and stalked
up to him. "Look, I agreed to take you on for your little training period.
So far I am the only one who seems to be interested in doing any... training.
I'm trying to work a full time job and take care of Dawn. The least you could
do is be on time when you even bother to make time for me."
Her anger didn't faze him. He could still see through her. "Is that what's
bothering you pet? I'm not making enough time for you?"
"No!" She swung a fist at him. He easily blocked and ducked her blow.
He no longer had the super strength or invulnerability that he did as a
vampire, but his reflexes were excellent and he was very agile. She swung at
him two more times and he ducked both of those blows as well. "Ahhh"
she yelled in frustration and launched herself at him. He turned to the side at
the last moment and she flew by him, landing on the floor on her side.
"Tsk tsk Slayer. You're going to have to do better than that. This is your
calling, remember?"
She kicked out with her feet and caught his ankles. He lost his balance and
fell, landing half on top of her. He moved to get up, but she grasped his shoulders
and flipped him onto his back. She was breathing hard and her eyes lock on his
mouth. She noticed that he was breathing hard too, and he had hardly exerted
himself. She lowered her face closer to his. She could feel his breath on her
cheeks. She let go of his arms to grasp his face. She felt his hands travel up
her arms to her shoulders. She closed her eyes and lowered her mouth to his.
Suddenly she found herself on her back again and he was up, backing away from
her.
Her anger was gone. She was just confused.
"Spike, what the hell is going on here?"
"I can't do this Buffy."
"Why not? Don't you want me anymore? I can only turn a guy on when he's
dead?"
"Buffy, no..." His jaw was clenched, "It's me. I just can't get
all wrapped up in you again."
"Can't? Like you have a choice? You told me once that you had tried not to
love me and you couldn't do that. Now all of a sudden you get to decide whether
to have feelings or not?"
"No... Yes..." He took a deep breath. "Buffy, before...when we
were together, it wasn't good for you." She tried to interrupt him, but he
held up a hand and cut her off. "Buffy listen to me. This is not about
what is going to feel good for us, this is about living our lives and doing
it... right. I spent over a century running around causing chaos and ruining
lives. I've been given a chance here to make up for some of that; to do
something for humanity instead of just taking from it."
Buffy has to stop him, "I don't see why we can't do that together! You
just keep pushing me away. Did the Watcher's Council tell you that you
can't...?"
"No Buffy, the Watcher's Council never even considers something like this.
Stuffy old men and young girls?"
"But you're not a stuffy old man, and I'm not a young girl..." She
stepped closer to him.
"But I'm not going to be here with you forever!" Finally his control
broke a little. Buffy shook her head to stop his words, but he walked up to
grab her arms as he continued, "I am only here to train with you until the
new girl is called. You know that. As soon as that happens, I have to go. I'll
not tear up your life again." He was firm, and deliberate.
"But I..."
He waited a beat. "You what?"
"I..." She still couldn't say it.
He let go of her and walked away. "Get on home to Dawn now. The li'l bit probably
has supper going for you. She's spent enough time alone, don't you think?"
With that, he left.
"Yes" she replied to the closed door. "Summers girls seem to do
that a lot."
*****
Anya was moving around the shop. She was holding a clipboard and checking her
inventory. Spike and Xander were in the back room making a new dummy. Last
week, after an argument with Spike, Buffy had dismantled the last one rather
gruesomely. She listened to them joking and laughing about the features they
wanted to include on this new model. She smiled contentedly. Xander had a
friend. A male friend. It was nice for him. Sometimes they would tell stupid
jokes and punch each other's arms. Men were so silly.
Anya finished her count and put her clipboard and pencils away. She moved over
to the table where Spike had been studying the Diaries again. He seemed to be
fascinated with the silly things, reading about the lives and exploits of the
other Slayers. Sometimes he would read about the first two he killed, and he
tended to be rather touchy for a while afterward. He seemed to take his new job
very seriously.
Curious, Anya flipped through a couple. "Looks like boring old fight stuff
to me." She muttered. She looked inside the front and back covers to see
if there were any personal comments about any of the other Watchers. She had
been around for over a thousand years as a demon, and had met a few in the
course of her career. Sometimes they even mentioned her in their notations. She
noticed a section near the back of one of the books. It appeared to be a ledger
of sorts. Yes! Her interest was piqued a little more. The counting system was
ancient, but one she recognized. She stopped to pick up another diary, flipped
to the back, then sat it down and picked up another.
"Spike, come here!" She called out. Spike and Xander both came out of
the room. Spike looked at her inquiringly.
"Spike, you need to call Giles. I've found something here that he needs to
know about." Spike and Xander exchanged clueless looks.
"Get him on the phone now Spike. I need to talk to him!"
"Whatever." Spike shrugged. He lifted the phone and punched in the
numbers, "But Anya, this one is on you. I don't want to see a copy of the
bill next month."
"Agreed."