Chapter 1

Welcome young delinquents

Buffy put her bag down on one of the beds. She stepped up to a window and looked at the trees outside.

Just the way to spend the summer: in a wood, with criminals, and no mall in sight.

Ok, so she had burned down the school, but to put her into a summer camp for delinquent juveniles was taking things a bit too far. Mum had freaked when Buffy had been taken home that night by the police. And to make things worse, the police officer had not hesitated to tell Joyce that her daughter was a menace to society. Just because she had been wielding a stake when he had come up to her outside the burning school. She had to make sure, after all. But Joyce had not been interested in Buffy's attempts at explaining. She had sent her daughter to the summer camp of hell. Buffy choked back a sob. She had never asked to be a slayer. She just wanted to be normal, a teenager, and spend her summer at home with her friends.

"You okay?"

Buffy turned around, wiping her eyes. A girl about her age stood in the door. "Yeah, sure. I just noticed the –the lack of –"

"fun around here? Well, it's up to us. I'm Chloe. I'm a 'wayward child'."

Buffy cocked her eyebrows "A what?"

"Oh, let's just say that my idea of a Saturday night differs from that of my dad – a lot."

"Oh. I'm Buffy. I'm – let's just say my way of 'bringing down the house ' turned a bit too literal for my mum's liking."

Chloe grinned at her mischievously. "Hey, it's Saturday evening, we are two young and eager girls. I'm sure we can bring some joy to this dark place after all. And I know just the place to start!"

Sunday morning, when the guides had recovered, Buffy was sentenced to help out in the kitchen for the rest of her camp-time.

When she arrived for her first shift, the cook advised her to peel potatoes.

"Just sit down next to Blondie there, and don't waste too much!"

Buffy complied and walked up to the bloke sitting with his back to her. "No way have I ever seen such a bad hair job" she thought to herself. She sat down at the table. "Hi, I'm Buffy. I'm here to help."

Blondie looked up from his work.

"Oh, I feel very honoured." Sarcasm wasn't only dripping, it was running in streaks from his words. Buffy sat down without any more words and started peeling.

Soon she got bored with her task. She started to cast curious glances at her companion.

"So, what's your name?"

"Spike"

"S'cuse me?"

"Spike. My name is SPIKE"

""Really? That is so strange. I recently broke up with a guy named Pike, isn't that funny?"

"For the boy?"

Buffy looked up from her potato. "That's so not what I meant. I just meant – I just wanted to be sociable. And if you don't want to talk at all, fine, let's just sit here and bore each other to death. FINE!"

About five minutes later, Spike found that the girl meant to stick to her words. Which was ok, but, well, he really should make the best of having company for once. He looked up at the girl. Sitting there with a pout, pretending to be completely absorbed in her work. She was young, about 16 he guessed. Pretty, a bit spoilt judging from the way she treated her potato. Her face was scrunched up in annoyance, at the potato, at him, at her fate. And she was right. She should be anywhere but here.

"I hired onto that work here because I am terrible with money, and they pay alright. What' s your excuse?"

Buffy blushed. "Oh, I don't – no excuse. I just…burned down my school, then got sent to the camp, and then put some magic mushrooms into Saturday's stew.."

Spike chocked a breath. „You must be kiddin', luv. No way you could pull a stunt like that. I used to be pretty wild myself when I was your age, but that- that's just ..." Looking at Miss Teenage Dream here and replaying her last sentence, he couldn't help himself. The first chuckle led to a huge guffaw, which in turn made Buffy join the hysteria. It took a very stern looking cook to finally calm them down, but the ice between them was broken.

The huge amount of potatoes dwindled rapidly while they talked; Buffy was pleasantly surprised when she saw that they were down to the last handful. Despite their bad start, Spike had turned out to be very enjoyable company: a good listener, funny and interested. And from up close, the hair wasn't so bad. In fact, it formed a perfect contrast to his eyes, brought them out all the more. Come to think about it, Spike was actually pretty cute.

And so her time of punishment passed rather pleasantly. She chatted her chores away with Spike in the kitchen, cutting, peeling and cleaning up. She actually began to look forward to their kitchen work, which was way more fun than all these "sociable behaviour-trainings " and "face your innermost fear"-sessions. With Spike, she could discuss her feelings without any fear of being put into an institution. She did not dare to tell him about her slayerness, but she spoke about her place in the world, about her dreams and wishes for her future, and about her fear that not one of them might come true. And even though Spike only knew half of her story, he understood. He knew about failure, because he considered himself to be one. He felt her disorientation in a world where prettiness is a major achievement and where any thoughts that did not include nail polish or hair scream "Nerd". With Buffy, he soon learned, looks were deceiving; the California girl harbored thoughts any serious Goth would be proud of. One night he had waited for her outside her cabin. She had come out and they had sat together, looking for shooting stars. She had talked about death then, and he got the feeling that she knew what she was talking about. He was ten years her senior, and thankfully he had never seen someone die. Somehow, he felt very young next to her, almost inferior. He had done his studies, decided to travel around for a bit before starting a career, and got stuck in the States, doing odd jobs to pay for his living, and skillfully avoiding any real decision making. And here was this girl, talking about fate and pain and responsibility, as if she had already been living her life. Yet she was so enthusiastic about things, a real teenager when it came to romance. Spike knew very well that she was a minor, and he felt the suspicious looks of his superiors on him, and did not act on her adoring glances. But he felt them, and they kept him awake most of the night. He nearly wished for the summer to end, so that he could move on. He had never been good with – girls. There, he couldn't even think of the words love, or relationship. His was the loner type, the one who looked, conquered, then shrugged and rode off into the sunset.

And such were his thoughts when one day a breathless, red-eyed Buffy came running up to his cabin. „I just got a letter from my mum. She has found a new job and we are now moving into some crap village no one has ever heard of. - She is so ashamed of me, she had to move away from LA. Isn't this the biggest joke of all? As if anyone there would care." Buffy couldn't stop the tears now. "I won't even get to say goodbye to my friends. Mum has already moved all of our stuff to Crapdale."

Spike didn't really know what to say to this new turn of things. She would leave – and he would stay. He put his arm around her, squeezing her reassuringly. "Things will be alright, Buffy. You can have a new start, something a lot of people dream about. You can show them who you are, what a special person you are."

Buffy continued to sniffle. "I'm a freak. I want to be normal, but I can't. There are things- things I don't understand, but they are scaring me, and I just can't handle all of this."

Spike took her face in his hands, making her look into his eyes. "Buffy, you can handle anything. You are exceptional. You're gonna show them all." Buffy looked into these eyes, realizing how serious they were. So that was it. The end. She would never see him again. As her heart broke, she gathered all her strength and kissed the man she loved goodbye.

And with that, Spike went out of her life.