Another Break In
Another Break In
by Cashmere
DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters...they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and 20th Century Fox. Joss has created a rich and marvelous well to drawn from...I'm just using his characters for my own and a few others' amusement. That being said, this fiction is MY creation. I want people to read and enjoy it. If you like it, email me, or post and tell me! If you want to post this particular fic on a site, just ask. Thanks!
The bells tinkled merrily as Buffy opened the door to the Magic Box. The air in the shop was redolent of sage and sandalwood. Buffy wrinkled her nose as Anya glanced up from behind the counter where she was industriously restocking conjuring herbs. The sole, paid employee at the magic shop, Anya was a slender, attractive young woman-in spite of having spent over 1,000 years terrorizing mankind in the guise of a vengeance demon. Upon seeing Buffy, the girl frowned. "Oh. It's just you." She said, "You're not going to spend any money." With that, she then went back to filling jars and taking notes on what she needed for the next order.
"As always, Anya, so nice to see you," Buffy said, shooting a grin at Tara. The shy, blond witch was bent over a smaller table in the "library" corner of the shop, studiously engrossed in a deck of Tarot cards. Tara smiled back at Buffy.
"Giles? Willow?" Buffy asked Anya, who didn't bother to answer, but just waved up toward the loft. Leaving her bag on the counter, Buffy, looked up to see Willow and Giles sorting through a brass-bound, wooden box.
As he spied Buffy, Giles waved and placed the box in Willow's outstretched arms. "Oh, Buffy! We w-were just moving some inventory." He climbed down the iron ladder that led to the loft. When he reached the bottom he asked, "How is your mother?" Giles' concern was genuine. Joyce's recent illness and surgery had been extremely traumatic for the Slayer.
Buffy nodded to her Watcher. "Better. Tired, but better." She said happily. "I'm working on the 'tired'…if I could just get Dawn to let her get her rest."
At the mention of Buffy's younger sister, Giles gave a half-smile and looked away. "W-w-well, yes, I imagine she does need her rest."
Buffy looked guilty and quickly tried to change the subject. "Willow," she said, as her friend climbed down from the loft and joined them. "What are you doing tonight? I mean, you and Tara? Feel like videos after I've done my sweeps? There could be ice cream involved."
Willow glanced over at Tara. She sheepishly started to say something. "Well…I…we…"
"Will, say no more." Buffy raised her hands to Willow's relief. "Got a hot date, I totally understand. I can find something else to do."
"It's just that we planned, we have…it's more romantic with just the two of us." The red-head looked at Buffy, worriedly.
Tara had left the Tarot behind and crossed the shop. She stood behind Willow. She was always quiet and had a calming effect on the more excitable witch. Flustered, Willow sat down in a nearby chair. Tara lightly placed her hands on Willow's shoulders in a subtle display of affection. Buffy noticed the worried expression on both their faces.
"No big," She smiled at them reassuringly. "I will find something else to do."
"Well, you can't go with us!" Anya said, hurriedly. "Xander has promised to take me someplace nice for once." Anya had turned from her work to enter the conversation. She leaned on the front counter, with a broad smile and said, "We're going to that new restaurant, the 'something house'…and the Bronze later, unless we decide to just have sex afterwards."
Buffy rolled her eyes and sat down in a chair. "Please, Anya, no details. I would not dream of interrupting that night of passion." She deadpanned. Her look then turned to Giles, who had started sorting some books lying on the round center table.
He caught her expectant look. "I-I'm playing a gig at the Expresso Pump tonight." He looked at the girls over the rim of his glasses. "A place, I trust, where I will find none of you."
"NO!" the four girls said in unison. He shook his head and turned to shelve the books, muttering to himself as he did so.
Buffy slouched in the chair, pouting. "Once more, getting that fun, fifth wheel feeling," she said.
Anya punched some keys on the cash register, opened the drawer and started counting the money. "You know, Buffy," she said, "you should really try to get back up on that horse."
"Huh?" from Buffy, Willow, Tara and even Giles, his Britishness, not withstanding.
"I mean the dating horse." Anya answered. "Well, with Riley gone, the only other person you've been out on a date with is Spike."
"WHAT?" from Buffy, Willow, Tara and, especially Giles.
Anya stopped counting the money and looked up. They were all standing looking at her now. Buffy looked peevish and was frowning.
"You went to the Bronze, ate, drank and talked, yes?" Anya asked.
Buffy replied, "Yes…No! I… Anya, I was questioning him."
"But Xander tells me that when you go somewhere where money is spent and food and drinks are consumed, that that constitutes a date, no matter if you have sex or not." Anya said, emphatically.
Buffy gave Anya a murderous look, Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and Willow gave the sales clerk her best disapproving glance. Anya turned her back, oblivious, muttering, "Well, it's true. I'm sure that's the way it works."
"You know what?" Buffy said aloud to the group, "I think I'm just going to hang around here and train. I sure got plenty of pent-up rage to take out on Xander's dummy…the one in the back, I mean!" She added the last part as Anya turned around and started to protest.
Taking his cue from the Slayer, Giles said quickly, "I think that's an excellent idea, Buffy."
***
It was almost midnight when Buffy, sweating and spent, peeled the wrappings from her hands and gave up on the heavy bag. The shop was empty when she made one last check of the shop and switched off the lights in the training room. She froze when she heard something. It was coming from the alley behind the shop. She slid silently across the padded floor and listened as the back door began to rattle. She watched as the door cracked open. She waited until a pale hand appeared and then she threw her weight against the door.
"OW! BLOODY HELL!"
At the sound of that voice, Buffy opened the door and grabbed Spike by the collar. She pulled him into the room, while he cradled his injured hand.
"Well," he said. "There go all those years of piano lessons."
The Slayer threw the blond vampire up against the wall. "All right, Spike," she said, "explain what the hell you're doing breaking into the shop like this." He was grinning as she planted her feet and slammed him backwards, emphasizing her words.
He continued grinning, cocking his head as he eyed the Slayer. She continued to yell at him. "And your explanation better not include stealing from Giles!"
"Down, Slayer." He said. "Giles and me got an arrangement."
"Let me guess, he gave you your own personal crowbar to jimmy the door lock with?" She asked, indicating the tool lying on the floor by the door.
He looked down at Buffy-He couldn't very well tell her that he'd been watching her work out for the last hour and a half, finally sneaking in to see if she'd left anything behind in the shop. He couldn't tell her that he he'd been following her on her nightly sweeps for weeks. Had, in fact, stood outside her house for hours last night…watching the lights go off in her bedroom and the shadows move across the window blinds. No, he wouldn't tell her that. He used her conveniently supplied excuse.
"Look, I'm just trying to make ends meet." Spike told her. The thin vampire pulled away from the slayer's grip. He eased past her and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket.
"How bout I help you meet your end, Spike?" Buffy asked as she walked to her bag lying on the floor. He watched her rummage through it, backing away, worried that she was pulling out a stake. She stood up and wiped her face with a small towel. "I'm not interested in your problems."
"Oh, very nice!" He said, taking a drag off his cigarette. He exhaled. "Not like Giles can't spare a fiver here or there. I am in real financial need! You know the butcher's been gouging me on the price of blood-Say, I'll bet…you could probably help me out with that. Why don't you put in a word, you know…tell them to cut me a break. Since I've been helpin' you out."
Buffy took two steps towards him, paused, and threw the towel at him. "I wouldn't call it help, Spike." She moved away from him again, pulling on a long-sleeved t-shirt over her tank-top. He did a double take as he watched her dress, eyeing her appreciatively.
"What then?" he asked, his voice softening. He looked away. He stared down at the towel in his hand. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; the cigarette was forgotten, turning to ash in his fingers. He flicked it away. "You know what?" He said, suddenly. "I'm sick o' this."
Buffy raised an eyebrow and half turned. "What?"
"I am sick to bloody death of being your dog…of risking my neck to help you. Of waiting around, begging for some scrap of recognition from you. Of following you around, fawning over you like you're the end all, be all." He dropped the towel and turned to face Buffy. He grabbed her by the arms, his face close to hers. "You don't see it, do you?" He asked.
"See what, Spike?" She said. "And, you better get your hands off of me before you lose them." Buffy's curiosity got the better of her. She didn't pull Spike's arms off. She just stared at him. He wasn't hurting her, just holding her, his face close to hers.
"You really are blond, aren't you, Slayer?" He said. "God, I used to throw this up in Angelus' face every chance I got. He used to be your lap-dog, too."
"What does Angel have to do with this? Don't even bring him up!" Buffy began.
"Or you'll what? Don't go boo-hooing to me about your ex, Pet, I got you beat in that department." Spike hadn't let go of Buffy. Neither had she tried to break away from his grip.
The pair stood silently, staring each other down. Spike bent down until he was merely inches from Buffy's face. He searched her eyes, finding only confusion. There was no way she could understand. "You don't have the slightest idea of how much love can hurt, Slayer," he said.
She shrugged off his hands. The confusion was slowly building into anger. Spike could tell he was losing her. She was ready to lash out at him any second-and he was not prepared for the ass-kicking he knew she could give him. But he had to get it through to her.
"You and Angel had three years, Love, and you're still a child." He said. "I've got scars from a love that lasted a century. Think about that. You slayers, you live fast, die young-it's all about the now. Vampires don't change. We're in a world where everything else does. When we find something to love we can't let go."
She shook her head. "You can't love-you're soulless. Demons can't love."
"Don't get metaphysical with me, Blondie," he said. "I feel. I care. I love. Nothing you say changes that. Nothing your watcher reads in his moldy books changes that. Nothing I do changes it. And you have no bloody idea how I wish it did." Spike swallowed hard. He held an unneeded breath as he waited for Buffy to process what he said.
She stood speechless watching Spike as his words spilled out unchecked. She was too dumbfounded to put a stop to them. His expression was open and earnest. She kept searching his face, expecting that infuriating grin to appear, for him to laugh at her.
"It doesn't matter," he said. He reached up and lightly touched Buffy's face. The muscles tensed in his neck as he boldly continued. He pushed back a strand of pale, blond hair. He leaned down slowly and felt her hand on his arm. "I can't do this, Buffy," he whispered into her ear. "You'll end up killing me."
The spell was broken in an instant. Spike pulled away from the Slayer and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Buffy stood there, unable to move. She could still smell his cigarettes and the leather of his coat. She shook her head and realized that she was trembling. She sighed and walked over to the door. The lock was intact, so she threw the deadbolt and leaned up against the door, staring into space.
***
"Buffy?" Giles said, as he walked out of the back room and into the front of the magic shop. The slayer was perched on a stool behind the counter, reading a textbook. The shop was empty except for a lone customer browsing through a display of crystals.
Buffy looked up at Giles. "Mmmm?" Her hair was up and she was tapping a pencil on the counter.
"Uh, Buffy," he began. "d-did you lock the shop up when you left last night?"
"Um, yeah. Why?" She asked and suddenly stopped tapping the pencil.
"I think someone may have been trying to break in through the back door," Giles explained. He walked behind the counter and pulled the phone book from a shelf.
"Uhh…are you sure, Giles?" Buffy said, snapping her textbook shut. "You know, most demons trying to get in here get smashy-the usual--doors broken down, lots of wreckage, you, beaten up."
"Very funny." Giles said, frowning at her. "I didn't say it was a demon, Buffy. It could very well have been anyone. Not all burglars are supernatural, you know." He picked up the telephone and quickly set it back down. "Maybe I should have Willow work on a security spell…something that would make the bloody delinquents piss themselves if they try it again." He turned his attention from the telephone and the Sunnydale P.D. to one of the spell books shelved behind the sales counter.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Giles," Buffy said absently. She was staring past Giles at the door to the back room. "I'm sure it was nothing." She told him. "It was a mistake," she whispered to herself as Giles noticed the customer trying to attract his attention. He left Buffy standing alone behind the counter as he walked over to assist. "…A big mistake," she said.
The End
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