Title: A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage. If you can wade through yet another Buffy resurrection, I promise there's some B/S sex a comin'!
Rating: R for adult concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end of Season 5.
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure.
Author's note: The title of this chapter is from the song of the same name by Jonatha Brooke.
Chapter 6: At the Still Point
"So you couldn't fight at all?"
All of the Scoobies, including Giles, were gathered around the big table in the back of the magic shop. Buffy sat in the middle of them, icing her wrist and wilting a little under all the concerned gazes.
"No, I could," she replied, "if it was something that was just dependent on strength. But anything that required any amount of finesse and it was like... it was like my mind knew exactly what to do but my body wasn't behaving." She thought for a second. "Actually, it was like the first time I slayed a vampire, sort of."
"You know," Willow said, "that makes a sort of sense. Buffy, you said your body was like new. All of your scars were gone. Maybe this is the same thing. You have the mental memory of all of your Slayer training, but none of the physical memory. Your body doesn't remember how to be a Slayer."
"Great," Buffy said, feeling worse than ever. "So what you're saying is that five years of Slayer training, completely out the window."
"Probably not. Your mind still remembers it all. The skills are all still up there," Willow said, tapping Buffy's head, "and the tactics. You just need to retrain your body."
"Oh." Buffy looked around the room. "Well, I guess you guys aren't completely off the hook for patrol for a little while, at least until I know I won't be taken out by the first vamp that comes along."
Giles took off his glasses. "Buffy, I can call the Council, tell them about this, that I need to stay and help you get back into shape, continue your training."
"Giles, no, I can't ask you to do that. You've started getting your life back together in England, I can't just ask you to drop all that and –"
"But, Buffy, you need me to –"
"Hold it, you two," Spike said. "I think I have a solution to this." He paused dramatically. "I can train her."
Everyone looked at Spike for a few seconds, speechless. Then Xander spoke up. "You?"
"Yes, Harris, me. As you probably haven't forgotten, I used to want this woman dead. I studied her. I watched her fight. I personally got my ass kicked by her several times. And more recently, I've fought along side her. For the last four months, I've been doing her job. I think I'm imminently qualified."
Giles was nervously wiping his glasses. "Yes, Spike, I'm sure that's all true, but given your history with Buffy, I doubt she would agree to –"
"Actually, I think it's a good idea." Everyone turned and looked at Buffy as if she had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Spike's right, he's qualified. And as we were discussing earlier tonight, we are friends now," she said, smirking at Spike.
"Buffy, are you sure?" Xander asked. "That's putting a lot of trust in Spike. What if the chip stops working?"
Buffy gave Spike a measured look. "Let's just say that we have an understanding on that score."
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"You're leaving yourself open when you do that."
Buffy stood in the training room in the back of the magic shop as the punching bag swung slowly in front of her. She was sweating lightly, her hair in a pony tail, wearing spandex shorts and a sports bra. Spike sat against one wall, watching her. They had been training together almost every day for two weeks.
Buffy looked at him in frustration. "What do you mean?"
"When you attack like that, you're leaving your left side open. Look." He came over to her and led her to the middle of the floor. "Attack me."
She did, and he quickly found her weakness and took advantage of it. Buffy hit the floor. "See?"
The first time they sparred with each other and Spike accidentally landed a punch, they had both stared at each other horrified when he didn't fall over with his expected chip-induced headache. They soon realized, when Spike experimented with vamping out and attacking her and did indeed collapse in agony, that his intent was somehow governing the effect of the chip. When they were training, the chip didn't prevent him from fighting with her, since his intent was not to hurt her.
Buffy stood up and dusted herself off. "OK, I think I see." She modified her attack, and this time it was Spike who ended up on the floor.
"Good," he said, groaning slightly as he stood up and moved back to his original spot on the floor.
"Wait," she said, "let's spar. I'm tired of the punching bag. You put up slightly more of a fight."
The verbal jab was enough for Spike. He pulled off his T-shirt and joined her in the middle of the floor, and they began circling each other in defensive positions.
As they fought, they carried on a conversation that was positively mundane by comparison.
"How'd Dawn do on that history paper?" Spike asked as Buffy easily blocked several quick punches.
"B-minus." Buffy grabbed Spike's fist and twisted, dropping him to his knees. She then let him up and they returned to their starting stances.
"B-minus? That paper was a damn site better than a bloody B-minus!" Spike landed a kick to Buffy's stomach, sending her staggering back several steps. He pressed the advantage.
"Yeah, but she got marked off for not being able to site a source for some of her information. 'Interview with a vampire who was present during the Boxer Rebellion' doesn't really work, does it?" Buffy fended off Spike's attack, then used his forward momentum to propel him into the wall.
As they sparred, Buffy couldn't help but notice Spike's upper body. Not at all hard on the eyes. She watched the muscles of his arms flex as he threw punches at her. She found herself inadvertently remembering the words of the robot that was made in her likeness. You should see him naked. Then she suddenly found herself on her back on the floor, looking up at a grinning Spike. "You let your mind wander, pet." He helped her up.
Buffy blushed and they resumed. Fighting with Spike was a lot like dancing, she had to admit that he had been right on that score. She stopped thinking about anything and just lost herself in the ebb and flow of the battle. She was learning more and more to find a calm center within herself from which she had an amazing clarity and could anticipate her opponent's moves. She found that now. When Spike grabbed her in an attempt to flip her to the ground, she saw that he was slightly off-balance and was able to use that to get his feet out from under him. He fell and she dropped on top of him, pressing an imaginary stake to his chest. "Gotcha," she said, smiling.
The joy of victory was quickly replaced by the realization that she was pressed on top of him and that they weren't wearing a lot of clothes. The look of enjoyment on Spike's face didn't help matters. The room was suddenly way too warm. Buffy stood quickly, brushed herself off and hoped that she wasn't blushing again. She was saved from the uncomfortable moment when Giles came into the training room.
"Oh, good Buffy, Anya said you were back here."
"Giles! I thought you were in England."
"I was, I literally just came from the airport. I'm only here for a few days, but I needed to see you right away."
"What's up?"
"The council is... concerned about your resurrection. They want to make sure that there weren't any ill effects on you, and that you are still capable of acting as a Slayer. They want to see you as soon as possible."
"Oh, great. So there's a Watcher posse on the way to Sunnydale? Not again."
"No, no... posse, as you put it. They want you to come to them this time. To England."