Felt Up (1/1)
Note: I don't know when this takes place. Sometime after "Fool for Love", but definitely before "Crush." I just thought that if Spike had made some effort to have some kind of relationship with Buffy first, she wouldn't have been so adverse to his confession. BTW, none of the characters are mine, but IMHO, Buffy is so much better with Spike than she ever was with Teutonic Riley.
ON WITH THE SHOW!
Buffy unlocked Giles' front door and opened it. "Thank you, Buffy." said Giles in his crisp British accent.
He walked as carefully as he could through it but still managed to bang his left elbow against the door frame. He let out a low groan of pain. Buffy patted his arm as she walked past him and he winced again. "I don't understand it." she said, throwing her tote bag on his couch.
Behind her, Giles sighed and tried awkwardly to shut the door with his hip. "Buffy..." Giles gestured with his chin towards the door. Buffy exhaled noisily, walked back and closed the door. "Thank you."
He plodded to the couch as Buffy went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Drink?" she asked, her voice muffled by the refrigerator door. She picked a soda from the top shelf, popped it open and took a sip. Giles shook his head. "Suit yourself."
She shut the refrigerator and walked into the living room. "I still don't get it." Giles tried to get comfortable and failed. He looked up at her with an exasperated expression. She waved her soda around. "How do you arrange it so that you completely break one arm and sprain the other?"
That was it, of course. Giles' left arm was in a rigid cast and the other was wrapped tightly to keep it immobile. He looked like a walking accident, which, Buffy thought with a laugh, was what he was. She plopped down on the floor and sat cross-legged staring up at her uncomfortable mentor. He was still squirming around, trying to sit in a position that did not compromise either arm. She'd found him earlier that day when she'd dropped in for that afternoon's training, lying on the floor in pain, an overturned chair beside him. "As I said..." he began, but was cut short by a burst of pain. He took a deep breath, which hurt him further, and stopped moving. "I was attempting to reach a book on the top shelf, when somehow, the chair flipped over, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. In pain, I might add."
Buffy took a drink of soda and shook her head from side to side. "So, okay, doctor says you're out of commission for awhile. No big, right?"
Giles gritted his teeth in pain. "No, you must keep training. I've detected quite a lapse in your abilities."
"A lapse?" asked Buffy. She raised an eyebrow.
"Quite a bit of one, actually. You need to keep with your regime."
"But look at you." she protested, gesturing at him with the soda can. "You're all...battered."
Her watcher glared at her through his glasses. Buffy looked sheepish. "Well, then I'd suggest you find another suitable trainer. You can't afford to miss even one more training session. You're getting much too sloppy."
"All right, all right." said Buffy, incensed. "Like it's so easy to find someone to train with."
numb myself with inordinate amounts of painkillers. Shut the door on your way out." He trudged off in the direction of his bedroom.
Buffy shrugged. "Who's going to help me train?" she asked out loud.
"Let me get this straight." the blonde vampire smirked. "You want me to do what?"
Buffy stood, arms akimbo, and fixed him with an angry stare. "You heard me the first time, Spike."
It was late evening, and although she'd run around the idea all day, it finally boiled down to the fact that Spike was the only one capable of filling in for Giles. Not that she didn't love beating up Puffy Xander, but that was different. It wasn't interactive. She needed comprehensive, hands-on combat practice. So, she'd reluctantly swallowed her pride and paid a visit to Spike's crypt.
Spike circled her, studying her from head to toe with a satisfied grin. "You finally need good old Spike, eh? What happened? That old bugger of a watcher of yours decide his old bones needed a rest? Or did you break something of his?" He gave her a suggestive eyebrow wriggle.
"Ick," was her reply. She slapped him across the side of his head. He cried out in pain.
"Bloody violence never solved anything, little girl." he said through clenched teeth. "And don't forget, *you* came to *me*."
"Due to a lack in options, Spike. Don't flatter yourself." Buffy watched him remove a cigarette from his pocket and light it. "What's your answer? I haven't got all day."
He took a long drag and blew out a few smoke rings. Buffy coughed. "You're lucky you're dead. Those things will kill you." she said irrelevantly. She realized she was a little nervous. She'd never imagined the day she'd be asking Spike for this kind of favor.
Spike dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. "You have a deal, cutie."
"Good." She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She turned to leave.
"Two-fifty an hour."
Buffy spun around to face him. "Pardon?
"You heard me the first time. Two hundred and fifty dollars. Per hour. Man's gotta eat." He looked at her with a glint in his eye.
"Spike, you're insane if you think I'm paying you that kind of money!"
Spike shrugged. "Okay. For you, gorgeous...one-fifty. But that's my final offer."
Buffy looked at him in disbelief. "Why did I ever think...?" She tilted her head to the side and gazed at him. "Even from this angle, you're scum." She twirled around and prepared to stalk out.
"Buffy." came his voice. She thought she heard a catch in it. "Wait."
She didn't turn around. She heard him walking towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off. Silence for a few seconds, then he sighed. "Whatever. Tommorrow evening. Sunset. Dress accordingly and no stakes. I see even a splinter, and the deal's off. Okay?"
Buffy smiled, slightly pleased at how easily he'd caved in. She twisted her head and stared at him. "Word of honor that you won't stake me?" asked Spike quietly.
"Slayer's word." answered Buffy. "You're sure this won't cause you any pain, right? I mean, no intention to hurt, no pain? Not that I care, but no need to make you suffer pointlessly." When he nodded, she said, "I'll see you." She finally left.
Spike watched her go. "It's a date," he said softly.
Buffy appeared at sunset the next day, dressed in electric blue Spandex and a matching sports bra. Her hair was in pigtails, making her look much younger than her age. She carried a gym bag bursting with supplies. Spike stood against the wall, watching her remove her different weapons. He admired the curve of her buttocks until she caught him and he turned away, pretending to study his fingernails. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're gonna wear?"
Spike looked down at his outfit. It was in the vein of his usual attire. A black shirt was left open over a black t-shirt, which he'd tucked into black jeans. For the training session, he'd conceded his leather coat. "What?" he asked, puzzled. He ran his hands over his jeans as Buffy sighed.
"So vamps don't sweat, I'm guessing." Buffy set her crossbow on the floor of the crypt.
"I've got to hand it to you, Summers. You know your violence bit pretty well, but when it comes to lore, you are certainly lacking." He appeared suddenly beside her, taking out a fencing rapier from the bag. Buffy gave a small start, but quickly recovered. Spike observed her reaction, but kept quiet. "Course vampires don't sweat. We're dead."
Buffy nodded. "Wanna start?" she asked, her voice child-like.
Spike threw the rapier aside. "No weapons today. I'm not in the mood." His hand shot out all of a sudden and seized her around the wrist. "Hand to hand."
Buffy grabbed his arm and flipped him backwards. "My pleasure."
Spike jumped up and they squared off. Spike chuckled softly. "This is like a dream. Me, practicing with the slayer?" He laughed again, a little louder this time.
"Surreal." agreed Buffy, never letting her attention waver. She lunged at him, beginning a series of kicks, all of which Spike expertly blocked.
He dodged her flailing foot and made a clucking sound. "Nice, slayer, but I've seen it all before. Give me something new to cry about."
He dove forward and pushed her off-balance. Buffy compensated however, by snatching his leg as she fell. She twisted the leg until he called out in pain. He kicked her with his other foot and yelled again. "That was intended to hurt," Buffy said, as a statement, rather than a question. He nodded through the pain.
Buffy shoved him away and stood up. They continued to fight, trading blow for blow, beating for beating. Each time he touched her, electricity shot through him, shocking him like some sort of delicious torture. Once he had her around the waist, and he couldn't help his hand straying down to her thigh. Buffy didn't even blink. Spike stayed silent and Buffy commented, "Over the need to hurt me, huh?"
Spike ducked, thankful she hadn't notice, avoiding a punch. "Hurt you, hurt me. This puppy learns fast, sweetheart."
They continued to spar, until at last, Spike collapsed and put up his hands in a truce. "Enough, pet. Vampires may not sweat, but they do tire." he panted.
Buffy relaxed her combat stance and looked down at him. He was breathing heavily, which she found funny, since vampires didn't breathe. "Why do you tire?" she queried idly, walking back to her things and rooting around in her bag for a towel.
"The oddity of the vampire condition. Damned if I know." He pushed himself weakly up off the ground. "God, did you do this to Giles? No wonder he needed a vacation."
Buffy made a face. "He didn't take a vacation. He broke his arm rearranging a bookshelf. And he sprained the other one. He's not in a condition to make tea, let alone train with the slayer." She reached into her bag and located a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. Spike sat shakily with his back against the wall. "Do you need a five?"
"More like a twenty. I've never felt this tired fighting with you before." he remembered. He scrutinized her from where he sat. Sweat ran in small rivers down the side of her face, and her pigtails looked as limp as wet rope, but somehow, she still glowed. If he'd had breath, it would have caught at the sight of her.
She shrugged, taking another drink, not noting him. "Well, usually, it ends way before. Like, you'll run off."
"Or *you* run off." he added.
"Right. Someone runs off, so no one gets the chance to get tired."
There was brief silence. Then, Spike murmured, "I've never had an opportunity to say this...but you fight well."
Buffy shot him an incredulous look. He paused halfway through a shrug because of the pain and settled for a terse nod. "Very well. You have style."
She gave him another dubious face. "Believe it, honey."
Buffy put the cap back on her water and put it away. "I...thanks. That's a real compliment. Coming from you and all. The big bad." She emphasized the last three words.
Spike tried to shrug again. "Not so bad anymore." He gave her a wan smile.
Despite herself, Buffy smiled back. "And I'm not just saying this coz you said it. But you fight pretty well, too. I especially like that double kick thing you do."
It was Spike's turn to look incredulous. "What double kick thing?"
"You know." said Buffy in childish frustration. She demonstrated the move, a sort of revolving kick with both legs. "That."
"Oh." Spike was thoughtful. "Never really thought about it."
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" She sank down to the floor in front of him and propped her chin on her fist. Spike studied her girlish hair and the way the faint light of the crypt played off her skin and his stomach did an unexpected flip-flop.
He broke his gaze and said, "No particular place. Just things you pick up when you get to be my age." He chuckled, and surprisingly, Buffy did the same. Their conversation hit a lull and Buffy fooled with the end of one gold pigtail. Spike had an amazing need to reach out and stroke the hair.
"You think you're up for some more? I got energy to burn." she finally said.
"What?" He'd been concentrating on her hair. "Uh, yeah, suppose. One more round."
He got painfully up. Buffy looked at him skeptically. "You sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Look." He went into his game face. "Happy?"
"More than." she replied. She punched him in the face. He fell over backwards.
"Buffy?" he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?" she asked, looking down at him.
"I think that's enough for tonight."
The weeks flew by - one, two, three, and suddenly, Spike had been training with the slayer for almost a month. He had to admit to himself, he truly enjoyed it. He loved fighting her, knowing that no staking was forthcoming, loved watching when she rested. Every molecule of his body screamed the moment she walked into his presence. It took all his willpower to let her go whenever he got a hold on her. He knew it had to end sometime, but he refrained from thinking about it. He never wanted it to end. Having the slayer so close - it was intoxicating.
But, finally, one evening she appeared, dressed for training and he saw it in her face. "Giles is in real speedy recovery." she said. She threw her bag onto the floor. "He even made tea this morning."
"Oh." was all he could think of to say.
Buffy traced a pattern into the dirt with the toe of her sneaker. "Yeah, so, I guess..."
"Bloody good riddance!" Spike burst out. "Finally don't have to worry about you coming round every night."
Buffy looked away so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. She'd thought she and Spike were getting along just fine. Regardless of her early reservations, Spike's company wasn't as repulsive as it had usually been. In fact, if she was honest, she liked training with him. He had a certain...elegance, that her watcher lacked. Plus, he made it fun.
Spike felt dull all over. He was losing her. He hadn't known what to say, so he'd reverted to his big bad routine. At least then she wouldn't detect the utter sadness that he felt permeating him. "I'm sorry if I've bothered you," she said, slightly choked.
"You have." he said. He stole a glance at her. It was a lie. He loved having her there. She was his sunlight.
"Well, put up with me for a couple more hours." she said after an uncomfortable silence. "Giles says he thinks he's up to gear. Or, enough to get back to regular slay practice routine."
"Whatever."
Ever since their first night, they'd stayed away from hand to hand combat, and stuck instead to new weapon routines. Spike was a worthy opponent. He knew each weapon well, and he wielded each well. Spike had a different idea for tonight. Buffy reached into her bag, but he came over and stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. "Let's end it like it began."
"Pure combat?"
"Yes. Empty-handed."
"Fine."
Buffy zipped up her bag and shoved it away with her foot. She flexed her fingers. "I'm ready."
Spike swept her legs under with his foot, but she was expecting it and leapt up in time. As she landed, she catapulted forward and grabbed hold of his shoulders. She hurled him against the wall and backflipped out the way as he tried to pull her down with him. With a yell, Spike charged her, catching her off-balance. He straddled her, pinning her to the ground. Buffy's fist came out, knocking him on the nose. He clutched at it and she took the opportunity to turn him over and pin him down. Satisfied, she turned, so that her back was to him. Then, she tried to stand, but Spike slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. "Unconventional move," she noted.
"I'm unconventional," he responded huskily.
Buffy struggled futilely for a few seconds and decided to give up. "Okay, let me up. Show me the coutermove to that, will you? Not that anyone's ever used it on me before, and I don't think anyone will, but hey, who knows."
Spike made no move to let her go. Buffy tapped his hands. "Spike, let me up."
In response, he pulled her even closer, so close that if he had had breath, she would have felt it against her cheek. "Seriously, Spike, the faster you let me up, the faster I'll just go."
He shook his head vigourously. "No. You can't go."
Buffy was confused. "What the hell are you doing? You said I was bothering you. You're glad to be rid of me." she reminded him.
"I lied," he admitted. He whispered conspirationally in her ear, "I'm evil that way."
She struggled again, to no avail. She stopped, suddenly, fear growing in her. "Oh, God, you got that chip removed somehow, right? Oh, God, why didn't I tell anyone I was training with you?"
"So you kept everyone in the dark about us?" Spike asked, gratified laughter in his voice.
"They're needless worriers and...why don't you just let me up?" She let out an exasperated breath.
Spike set his chin on her shoulder. "Promise not to laugh."
She made a face, but Spike's gravity erased it. He cleared his throat, then said, without any sort of inflection, "I love you."
It took a moment for it to sink in. Then, a loud guffaw escaped from Buffy. Spike let her go disgustedly. "Why did you have to do that?" he asked angrily, jumping up. She was still on the floor, wracked with hysterical laughter.
She looked up at him, pointing. Laughter cut her words up. "It's just...excuse me...it's just that...I was just thinking...how much...how much...I was going to...miss...training...with you." She made an effort to calm herself. "You really hurt me when you said you'd be glad not to see me again."
Spike growled in frustration. "I was in denial!"
"Oh."
He stared down at her. She looked so small and frail, sitting there in the dirt. "Did you say you'd miss me?" he asked quietly. A pause, then she nodded. Spike felt a funny feeling go through him, like softened lightning.
He reached out a hand and helped her up. She brushed herself off, not meeting his eyes. "It's just...you know so much. Gruesome stuff, mostly, and your slayer cracks and terms of endearment are enough to make me scream sometimes...but you're really..." Her voice trailed off and Spike looked in bafflement at her. She still didn't meet his eyes. "...fun. And a good teacher. And interesting, when you're not being a big jerk."
"Oh." said Spike.
An awkward silence reigned. "Do you mind?" he said at last.
Buffy looked into his eyes. "The bit about me...loving you." he said sheepishly.
She was thoughtful. "I...I don't think so." She shrugged, kicking at some dirt. "It's weird."
He reached a tentative hand up to her hair, and when she didn't move away, gently ran his finger over a single blonde lock. "That why you kept groping me during combat?"
"I groped you?" Spike asked in shock.
"Yeah. Kept feeling me up. I thought I was out of my mind." replied Buffy.
Spike looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I thought I hid it pretty well. Guess I was wrong."
"Well, people can be wrong."
More silence. "What should we do now?" queried Spike finally.
Buffy looked up at him, seeing the emotion in his eyes. "Let's just take it one step at a time."
"I'm okay with that." agreed Spike.
"I think we need to tell Giles." She slipped her hand into his.
"Why?"
"Because..." Buffy scooped up her bag with her free hand and handed it to him. "I think he needs a vacation from his watcher duties, don't you?"
Spike grinned. "Absolutely. He's not even in a condition to make...scones."
"Right. Scones." laughed Buffy. Then, her face grew serious. "What the hell are you doing?"
Spike looked at her in surprise. "What?"
Buffy leaned her face close to his. "You're making me feel all funny inside."
He dropped her bag to the ground and cupped her face in both hands. "I feel the exact same way." He gently kissed her, running a hand up and down her back.
"You're doing it again." she mumbled against his mouth.
"What the hell am I doing?" he asked lazily.
"Feeling me up."
"Oh."
"Keep doing it."
"All right, slayer. Whatever you say."
THE END
Note: I don't know when this takes place. Sometime after "Fool for Love", but definitely before "Crush." I just thought that if Spike had made some effort to have some kind of relationship with Buffy first, she wouldn't have been so adverse to his confession. BTW, none of the characters are mine, but IMHO, Buffy is so much better with Spike than she ever was with Teutonic Riley.
ON WITH THE SHOW!
Buffy unlocked Giles' front door and opened it. "Thank you, Buffy." said Giles in his crisp British accent.
He walked as carefully as he could through it but still managed to bang his left elbow against the door frame. He let out a low groan of pain. Buffy patted his arm as she walked past him and he winced again. "I don't understand it." she said, throwing her tote bag on his couch.
Behind her, Giles sighed and tried awkwardly to shut the door with his hip. "Buffy..." Giles gestured with his chin towards the door. Buffy exhaled noisily, walked back and closed the door. "Thank you."
He plodded to the couch as Buffy went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. "Drink?" she asked, her voice muffled by the refrigerator door. She picked a soda from the top shelf, popped it open and took a sip. Giles shook his head. "Suit yourself."
She shut the refrigerator and walked into the living room. "I still don't get it." Giles tried to get comfortable and failed. He looked up at her with an exasperated expression. She waved her soda around. "How do you arrange it so that you completely break one arm and sprain the other?"
That was it, of course. Giles' left arm was in a rigid cast and the other was wrapped tightly to keep it immobile. He looked like a walking accident, which, Buffy thought with a laugh, was what he was. She plopped down on the floor and sat cross-legged staring up at her uncomfortable mentor. He was still squirming around, trying to sit in a position that did not compromise either arm. She'd found him earlier that day when she'd dropped in for that afternoon's training, lying on the floor in pain, an overturned chair beside him. "As I said..." he began, but was cut short by a burst of pain. He took a deep breath, which hurt him further, and stopped moving. "I was attempting to reach a book on the top shelf, when somehow, the chair flipped over, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. In pain, I might add."
Buffy took a drink of soda and shook her head from side to side. "So, okay, doctor says you're out of commission for awhile. No big, right?"
Giles gritted his teeth in pain. "No, you must keep training. I've detected quite a lapse in your abilities."
"A lapse?" asked Buffy. She raised an eyebrow.
"Quite a bit of one, actually. You need to keep with your regime."
"But look at you." she protested, gesturing at him with the soda can. "You're all...battered."
Her watcher glared at her through his glasses. Buffy looked sheepish. "Well, then I'd suggest you find another suitable trainer. You can't afford to miss even one more training session. You're getting much too sloppy."
"All right, all right." said Buffy, incensed. "Like it's so easy to find someone to train with."
numb myself with inordinate amounts of painkillers. Shut the door on your way out." He trudged off in the direction of his bedroom.
Buffy shrugged. "Who's going to help me train?" she asked out loud.
"Let me get this straight." the blonde vampire smirked. "You want me to do what?"
Buffy stood, arms akimbo, and fixed him with an angry stare. "You heard me the first time, Spike."
It was late evening, and although she'd run around the idea all day, it finally boiled down to the fact that Spike was the only one capable of filling in for Giles. Not that she didn't love beating up Puffy Xander, but that was different. It wasn't interactive. She needed comprehensive, hands-on combat practice. So, she'd reluctantly swallowed her pride and paid a visit to Spike's crypt.
Spike circled her, studying her from head to toe with a satisfied grin. "You finally need good old Spike, eh? What happened? That old bugger of a watcher of yours decide his old bones needed a rest? Or did you break something of his?" He gave her a suggestive eyebrow wriggle.
"Ick," was her reply. She slapped him across the side of his head. He cried out in pain.
"Bloody violence never solved anything, little girl." he said through clenched teeth. "And don't forget, *you* came to *me*."
"Due to a lack in options, Spike. Don't flatter yourself." Buffy watched him remove a cigarette from his pocket and light it. "What's your answer? I haven't got all day."
He took a long drag and blew out a few smoke rings. Buffy coughed. "You're lucky you're dead. Those things will kill you." she said irrelevantly. She realized she was a little nervous. She'd never imagined the day she'd be asking Spike for this kind of favor.
Spike dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his boot. "You have a deal, cutie."
"Good." She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She turned to leave.
"Two-fifty an hour."
Buffy spun around to face him. "Pardon?
"You heard me the first time. Two hundred and fifty dollars. Per hour. Man's gotta eat." He looked at her with a glint in his eye.
"Spike, you're insane if you think I'm paying you that kind of money!"
Spike shrugged. "Okay. For you, gorgeous...one-fifty. But that's my final offer."
Buffy looked at him in disbelief. "Why did I ever think...?" She tilted her head to the side and gazed at him. "Even from this angle, you're scum." She twirled around and prepared to stalk out.
"Buffy." came his voice. She thought she heard a catch in it. "Wait."
She didn't turn around. She heard him walking towards her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off. Silence for a few seconds, then he sighed. "Whatever. Tommorrow evening. Sunset. Dress accordingly and no stakes. I see even a splinter, and the deal's off. Okay?"
Buffy smiled, slightly pleased at how easily he'd caved in. She twisted her head and stared at him. "Word of honor that you won't stake me?" asked Spike quietly.
"Slayer's word." answered Buffy. "You're sure this won't cause you any pain, right? I mean, no intention to hurt, no pain? Not that I care, but no need to make you suffer pointlessly." When he nodded, she said, "I'll see you." She finally left.
Spike watched her go. "It's a date," he said softly.
Buffy appeared at sunset the next day, dressed in electric blue Spandex and a matching sports bra. Her hair was in pigtails, making her look much younger than her age. She carried a gym bag bursting with supplies. Spike stood against the wall, watching her remove her different weapons. He admired the curve of her buttocks until she caught him and he turned away, pretending to study his fingernails. Buffy raised an eyebrow. "That's what you're gonna wear?"
Spike looked down at his outfit. It was in the vein of his usual attire. A black shirt was left open over a black t-shirt, which he'd tucked into black jeans. For the training session, he'd conceded his leather coat. "What?" he asked, puzzled. He ran his hands over his jeans as Buffy sighed.
"So vamps don't sweat, I'm guessing." Buffy set her crossbow on the floor of the crypt.
"I've got to hand it to you, Summers. You know your violence bit pretty well, but when it comes to lore, you are certainly lacking." He appeared suddenly beside her, taking out a fencing rapier from the bag. Buffy gave a small start, but quickly recovered. Spike observed her reaction, but kept quiet. "Course vampires don't sweat. We're dead."
Buffy nodded. "Wanna start?" she asked, her voice child-like.
Spike threw the rapier aside. "No weapons today. I'm not in the mood." His hand shot out all of a sudden and seized her around the wrist. "Hand to hand."
Buffy grabbed his arm and flipped him backwards. "My pleasure."
Spike jumped up and they squared off. Spike chuckled softly. "This is like a dream. Me, practicing with the slayer?" He laughed again, a little louder this time.
"Surreal." agreed Buffy, never letting her attention waver. She lunged at him, beginning a series of kicks, all of which Spike expertly blocked.
He dodged her flailing foot and made a clucking sound. "Nice, slayer, but I've seen it all before. Give me something new to cry about."
He dove forward and pushed her off-balance. Buffy compensated however, by snatching his leg as she fell. She twisted the leg until he called out in pain. He kicked her with his other foot and yelled again. "That was intended to hurt," Buffy said, as a statement, rather than a question. He nodded through the pain.
Buffy shoved him away and stood up. They continued to fight, trading blow for blow, beating for beating. Each time he touched her, electricity shot through him, shocking him like some sort of delicious torture. Once he had her around the waist, and he couldn't help his hand straying down to her thigh. Buffy didn't even blink. Spike stayed silent and Buffy commented, "Over the need to hurt me, huh?"
Spike ducked, thankful she hadn't notice, avoiding a punch. "Hurt you, hurt me. This puppy learns fast, sweetheart."
They continued to spar, until at last, Spike collapsed and put up his hands in a truce. "Enough, pet. Vampires may not sweat, but they do tire." he panted.
Buffy relaxed her combat stance and looked down at him. He was breathing heavily, which she found funny, since vampires didn't breathe. "Why do you tire?" she queried idly, walking back to her things and rooting around in her bag for a towel.
"The oddity of the vampire condition. Damned if I know." He pushed himself weakly up off the ground. "God, did you do this to Giles? No wonder he needed a vacation."
Buffy made a face. "He didn't take a vacation. He broke his arm rearranging a bookshelf. And he sprained the other one. He's not in a condition to make tea, let alone train with the slayer." She reached into her bag and located a bottle of water. She unscrewed the cap and took a long drink. Spike sat shakily with his back against the wall. "Do you need a five?"
"More like a twenty. I've never felt this tired fighting with you before." he remembered. He scrutinized her from where he sat. Sweat ran in small rivers down the side of her face, and her pigtails looked as limp as wet rope, but somehow, she still glowed. If he'd had breath, it would have caught at the sight of her.
She shrugged, taking another drink, not noting him. "Well, usually, it ends way before. Like, you'll run off."
"Or *you* run off." he added.
"Right. Someone runs off, so no one gets the chance to get tired."
There was brief silence. Then, Spike murmured, "I've never had an opportunity to say this...but you fight well."
Buffy shot him an incredulous look. He paused halfway through a shrug because of the pain and settled for a terse nod. "Very well. You have style."
She gave him another dubious face. "Believe it, honey."
Buffy put the cap back on her water and put it away. "I...thanks. That's a real compliment. Coming from you and all. The big bad." She emphasized the last three words.
Spike tried to shrug again. "Not so bad anymore." He gave her a wan smile.
Despite herself, Buffy smiled back. "And I'm not just saying this coz you said it. But you fight pretty well, too. I especially like that double kick thing you do."
It was Spike's turn to look incredulous. "What double kick thing?"
"You know." said Buffy in childish frustration. She demonstrated the move, a sort of revolving kick with both legs. "That."
"Oh." Spike was thoughtful. "Never really thought about it."
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" She sank down to the floor in front of him and propped her chin on her fist. Spike studied her girlish hair and the way the faint light of the crypt played off her skin and his stomach did an unexpected flip-flop.
He broke his gaze and said, "No particular place. Just things you pick up when you get to be my age." He chuckled, and surprisingly, Buffy did the same. Their conversation hit a lull and Buffy fooled with the end of one gold pigtail. Spike had an amazing need to reach out and stroke the hair.
"You think you're up for some more? I got energy to burn." she finally said.
"What?" He'd been concentrating on her hair. "Uh, yeah, suppose. One more round."
He got painfully up. Buffy looked at him skeptically. "You sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Look." He went into his game face. "Happy?"
"More than." she replied. She punched him in the face. He fell over backwards.
"Buffy?" he said at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?" she asked, looking down at him.
"I think that's enough for tonight."
The weeks flew by - one, two, three, and suddenly, Spike had been training with the slayer for almost a month. He had to admit to himself, he truly enjoyed it. He loved fighting her, knowing that no staking was forthcoming, loved watching when she rested. Every molecule of his body screamed the moment she walked into his presence. It took all his willpower to let her go whenever he got a hold on her. He knew it had to end sometime, but he refrained from thinking about it. He never wanted it to end. Having the slayer so close - it was intoxicating.
But, finally, one evening she appeared, dressed for training and he saw it in her face. "Giles is in real speedy recovery." she said. She threw her bag onto the floor. "He even made tea this morning."
"Oh." was all he could think of to say.
Buffy traced a pattern into the dirt with the toe of her sneaker. "Yeah, so, I guess..."
"Bloody good riddance!" Spike burst out. "Finally don't have to worry about you coming round every night."
Buffy looked away so he wouldn't see the hurt in her eyes. She'd thought she and Spike were getting along just fine. Regardless of her early reservations, Spike's company wasn't as repulsive as it had usually been. In fact, if she was honest, she liked training with him. He had a certain...elegance, that her watcher lacked. Plus, he made it fun.
Spike felt dull all over. He was losing her. He hadn't known what to say, so he'd reverted to his big bad routine. At least then she wouldn't detect the utter sadness that he felt permeating him. "I'm sorry if I've bothered you," she said, slightly choked.
"You have." he said. He stole a glance at her. It was a lie. He loved having her there. She was his sunlight.
"Well, put up with me for a couple more hours." she said after an uncomfortable silence. "Giles says he thinks he's up to gear. Or, enough to get back to regular slay practice routine."
"Whatever."
Ever since their first night, they'd stayed away from hand to hand combat, and stuck instead to new weapon routines. Spike was a worthy opponent. He knew each weapon well, and he wielded each well. Spike had a different idea for tonight. Buffy reached into her bag, but he came over and stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. "Let's end it like it began."
"Pure combat?"
"Yes. Empty-handed."
"Fine."
Buffy zipped up her bag and shoved it away with her foot. She flexed her fingers. "I'm ready."
Spike swept her legs under with his foot, but she was expecting it and leapt up in time. As she landed, she catapulted forward and grabbed hold of his shoulders. She hurled him against the wall and backflipped out the way as he tried to pull her down with him. With a yell, Spike charged her, catching her off-balance. He straddled her, pinning her to the ground. Buffy's fist came out, knocking him on the nose. He clutched at it and she took the opportunity to turn him over and pin him down. Satisfied, she turned, so that her back was to him. Then, she tried to stand, but Spike slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. "Unconventional move," she noted.
"I'm unconventional," he responded huskily.
Buffy struggled futilely for a few seconds and decided to give up. "Okay, let me up. Show me the coutermove to that, will you? Not that anyone's ever used it on me before, and I don't think anyone will, but hey, who knows."
Spike made no move to let her go. Buffy tapped his hands. "Spike, let me up."
In response, he pulled her even closer, so close that if he had had breath, she would have felt it against her cheek. "Seriously, Spike, the faster you let me up, the faster I'll just go."
He shook his head vigourously. "No. You can't go."
Buffy was confused. "What the hell are you doing? You said I was bothering you. You're glad to be rid of me." she reminded him.
"I lied," he admitted. He whispered conspirationally in her ear, "I'm evil that way."
She struggled again, to no avail. She stopped, suddenly, fear growing in her. "Oh, God, you got that chip removed somehow, right? Oh, God, why didn't I tell anyone I was training with you?"
"So you kept everyone in the dark about us?" Spike asked, gratified laughter in his voice.
"They're needless worriers and...why don't you just let me up?" She let out an exasperated breath.
Spike set his chin on her shoulder. "Promise not to laugh."
She made a face, but Spike's gravity erased it. He cleared his throat, then said, without any sort of inflection, "I love you."
It took a moment for it to sink in. Then, a loud guffaw escaped from Buffy. Spike let her go disgustedly. "Why did you have to do that?" he asked angrily, jumping up. She was still on the floor, wracked with hysterical laughter.
She looked up at him, pointing. Laughter cut her words up. "It's just...excuse me...it's just that...I was just thinking...how much...how much...I was going to...miss...training...with you." She made an effort to calm herself. "You really hurt me when you said you'd be glad not to see me again."
Spike growled in frustration. "I was in denial!"
"Oh."
He stared down at her. She looked so small and frail, sitting there in the dirt. "Did you say you'd miss me?" he asked quietly. A pause, then she nodded. Spike felt a funny feeling go through him, like softened lightning.
He reached out a hand and helped her up. She brushed herself off, not meeting his eyes. "It's just...you know so much. Gruesome stuff, mostly, and your slayer cracks and terms of endearment are enough to make me scream sometimes...but you're really..." Her voice trailed off and Spike looked in bafflement at her. She still didn't meet his eyes. "...fun. And a good teacher. And interesting, when you're not being a big jerk."
"Oh." said Spike.
An awkward silence reigned. "Do you mind?" he said at last.
Buffy looked into his eyes. "The bit about me...loving you." he said sheepishly.
She was thoughtful. "I...I don't think so." She shrugged, kicking at some dirt. "It's weird."
He reached a tentative hand up to her hair, and when she didn't move away, gently ran his finger over a single blonde lock. "That why you kept groping me during combat?"
"I groped you?" Spike asked in shock.
"Yeah. Kept feeling me up. I thought I was out of my mind." replied Buffy.
Spike looked away, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I thought I hid it pretty well. Guess I was wrong."
"Well, people can be wrong."
More silence. "What should we do now?" queried Spike finally.
Buffy looked up at him, seeing the emotion in his eyes. "Let's just take it one step at a time."
"I'm okay with that." agreed Spike.
"I think we need to tell Giles." She slipped her hand into his.
"Why?"
"Because..." Buffy scooped up her bag with her free hand and handed it to him. "I think he needs a vacation from his watcher duties, don't you?"
Spike grinned. "Absolutely. He's not even in a condition to make...scones."
"Right. Scones." laughed Buffy. Then, her face grew serious. "What the hell are you doing?"
Spike looked at her in surprise. "What?"
Buffy leaned her face close to his. "You're making me feel all funny inside."
He dropped her bag to the ground and cupped her face in both hands. "I feel the exact same way." He gently kissed her, running a hand up and down her back.
"You're doing it again." she mumbled against his mouth.
"What the hell am I doing?" he asked lazily.
"Feeling me up."
"Oh."
"Keep doing it."
"All right, slayer. Whatever you say."
THE END