.
Buffy retrieved the iron dagger from where she'd tucked it into her waistband and set her shoulders. It didn't make her feel any less exhausted, but without knowing what she was about to face, she supposed she'd better fake it or die trying. She nodded at Spike to open the door and waited, back to the wall, as he swung it inward.
Nothing emerged, so she craned her neck to look through the doorway. There was a short corridor that led to a bifurcated stairway, with stairs leading up on one side and down on the other.
"Up or down?" she said as Spike joined her in the doorway.
"Down," he said. "That's where the good stuff always is. The skeletons and whatnot."
They went down, and opened the door at the bottom.
"Well, I didn't think you'd mean that literally," Buffy said, eyeing the skeleton of a small animal atop a bookshelf.
"I didn't really." Spike nudged her shoulder with his and nodded at the large metal cage a few feet over.
"Oh." Well, that lent credence to Spike's evil shopkeeper theory. "Why are they so worked up?" she said, watching the small, humanoid creatures flutter to the ground, clearly exhausted, and then shoot upward in a frenzy.
Spike strode over to the cage and rapped the side of it, then pointed to the solid metal floor. "Iron. Burns them if they touch it."
"Definitely evil," Buffy muttered.
"The faeries? I dunno, some types are, but these ones look more like the neutral sort."
"I meant Mr. Herrington." She joined him by the cage, exhaustion displaced by anger once more. "How do we open it? I don't see a door," she said, and tapped one of the bars with the dagger in her hand.
The twenty or so brightly colored faeries screeched and flung themselves about, and Buffy took a nervous step backwards. "What did I do?"
"The dagger, love. Iron, remember?"
"Sorry!" she said to the faeries, though she wasn't sure if they could understand her or even hear her over the shrieking. "Look!" She hurried away and, with exaggerated movements, placed the dagger on top of the bookshelf next to the skeleton. Buffy held her now empty hands up. "See, all gone! We're here to help."
To Spike, she said, "Can they understand me?"
"Beats me. Look, you sure you want to let them out? They're likely to attack us as not."
"Yes! This is just – cruel."
"Yeah, it's good fun, alright," he said, poking at one of the faeries that buzzed close to his face with a laugh.
God, did he always have to be so… evil?
Of course he did. This was Spike.
He caught sight of her expression. "But, uh… right. Cruel." He sighed. "Maybe try bending the bars?"
Buffy watched the little, fluttering creatures, trying to get a sense of whether they were hostile, or simply terrified. They moved too quickly for her to get a good look at their faces, so she tried murmuring to them in low, soothing tones. "We're here to help, okay? Going to get you guys out of that awful cage…"
The fairies seemed to calm after a few minutes of her continued soothing, and she nodded to Spike. "Ready?"
"Doubt you want my help. Any of them attack me, and there'll be faery guts flying every which way."
"Fine! Go make sure the doors are open so they can leave the shop, then."
When the sound of Spike's clomping up the stairs had faded, Buffy grasped an iron bar in each hand. "Okay, guys. No biting the Buffy that rescues you, okay?" She gave the bars a test pull to gauge how difficult it would be, and, finding that they gave way easily enough, bent them apart with one quick yank of screeching metal.
The faeries retreated in a confused jumble of limbs and wings to the far side of the cage, hovering for an instant before barreling through the opening like a swarm of angry, shrieking dragonflies. Buffy ducked and covered her head with her arms as they passed overhead, some of them yanking out strands of her hair or scratching with tiny, sharp claws as they passed. A few moments later she heard Spike bellowing, and she hurried after the swarm, yelling up the stairs that he'd better not harm a single faery if he valued his unlife.
Buffy reached the top, puffing and panting, to find Spike slamming the door as the last of the faeries streaked by, screeching at him. The slam of the door buffeted the tiny creature, who turned back to shake a minuscule fist through the window at the snarling, scratched-up vampire.
"I see they got you too," she said, nodding at his plucked-at hair. "And yet, no dead faery bodies. Why, Spike, I think you're a reformed man!"
"Bugger off." He smoothed his hair back into its usual blond slick with a quick, angry swipe of his hand. "Make me hurl with that kind of talk," he muttered, a faint whistling to his tone thanks to the new gap in his fangs.
Buffy hid a smile as she smoothed her own hair back. The smile turned into a frown when her hand encountered the missing chunk of hair. It better have been worth it...
Looking around the shop, she realized that along with no faery bodies, Mr. Herrington's corpse had disappeared as well. Buffy decided she didn't really want to know what Spike had done with it. "You ready to brave the upstairs, or have you had enough fun for today?"
"There was a second room downstairs."
"There was?"
He scoffed. "Typical girl, distracted by the pretty colored lights."
Oh, that was it. One hundred percent it.
"Can your typical girl do this?" Buffy said as she socked him across the chin. It felt so good, she spun a kick into his chest, sending him staggering back against the wall. Fists up, she waited for him to come at her.
Spike rubbed his chest, and to her surprise, laughed. "No, Slayer, your typical girl can't. It's what makes you so fun. But I daresay we're going to have to work on your fighting technique – I can't have you in such sloppy condition if we're going to defeat the Grdnith." He sighed. "Guess I'll just have to train you."
"What?" She still couldn't believe she'd heard him right, so she repeated herself. "What?! You want to train me? Are you insane?"
"Just practical," he said. "Look, you're good, love, but not near as good as you could be. I know a thing or two about Slayers, you might say, and you've given me some good fights, it's true, but the only reason you're still alive is 'cause of all the help you've had along the way. Your little Scooby gang and all. You on your own? We wouldn't be having this conversation today."
"I – what?" she spluttered. "Says the big scaredy who had to run away every time we fought! You ran away from my mom! My mom!" She was so angry, the thought of her mom didn't even pinch the way it usually did. "You ran away the second I despelled from that stupid renfest costume! And then, for no change of pace at all, you ran away at the church!"
He took a step towards her. "And you had help each of those times! Not to mention, I had Drusilla to worry about. Couldn't put my all into it when I had her to think of, now could I?" Spike took another step. "But this last time… do you remember what happened, sweet Slayer? Only a few nights ago?"
One more step, and they were nose to nose, Buffy's raised fists the only thing between their bodies. Spike ran the tip of his tongue over his upper teeth. Voice low, seductive, he said, "You were all mine, love."
"Only in your dreams!"
"And such sweet dreams they are."
Spike stood way, way too close. His eyes were too knowing, the puff of his breath too intimate against her mouth.
Buffy licked her lips. Put her hands on his shoulders.
And kneed him.
He oofed and stepped back a pace, slightly hunched over but still smirking. "Face it. If that demon hadn't come along and saved your life -"
"You mean saved yours -"
"Any which way, you'll benefit from my tutelage." He did a funny thing with his tongue that made her wonder if he didn't have another meaning behind his words, but those kinds of thoughts went firmly in the never ever box, along with any observations she might have made about his… condition… when she'd kneed him.
"You're insane!" she repeated. "Let's pretend for even half a second that you're right – which you're so not – if you train me to be a better fighter, you'd be signing your own death warrant."
Spike shrugged, completely unperturbed by the idea. "Better alive now, when the Grdnith comes, and worry about the rest later."
"Insane!" she said once more, throwing her hands up.
"I prefer opportunistic."
"And I prefer to be completely done with this conversation," Buffy said, whirling on her heel and heading for the secret door. "I suggest you stay here unless you're ready to find out just how much I can kick your ass right now, without any help at all."
Spike chuckled at her retreating back but didn't follow after her, to her relief. She'd had way too much quality time with soulless vampires lately and needed a few minutes – decades, preferably – away from him. If she found anything downstairs that needed a stabbing, so much the better.
"Of all the idiotic, stupid -"
Why did she have to go down that alley? If only she'd ignored the whimpers of pain, like she'd wanted to, she could be – well, not happier. Miserable, really.
But misery was what she deserved, wasn't it?
Then again, maybe this was what she deserved. Wallowing, feeling sorry for herself? Too good for her. Having to put up with Spike, now that was true punishment, though punishment she'd rather do without, quite frankly.
Who did he think he was, wanting to train her? Train her? To fight? As if she couldn't kick his scrawny, pasty –
Gah!
Buffy stomped her way down the stairs and to the cage, and looked around the basement more carefully than she had the last time. The musty, rock-hewn room seemed to serve as a storage area, with shelves and crates filling the majority of the space, along with the odd cage. The remainder of the cages stood empty, and, still muttering imprecations, she turned her attention to the door on the far wall. From the rusty patina on it, she thought it might be made of iron too.
She retrieved the iron dagger from the top of the bookshelf, walked to the door, and put her ear up against it. The metal was chilly against her ear and covered with a coating of dampness, but no sounds filtered through. Ear still tight against the door, she tried the knob. It turned easily.
Buffy stepped back and opened the door quickly, dagger raised high. A variety of faces, some humanoid, some less so – all terrified – turned to stare back at her.
"Um. Hi," she said, and lowered the dagger halfway. "I come in peace?"
.