1 Title: Staking Lessons
2
3 Part: 3a / 4
4 Author: RedSpark
Email: red_spark@hotmail.com
5
6 Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, it's all theirs (JW, ME, and company)
7 Summary: Buffy has decided to teach Dawn some self-defense survival skills for life on the Hellmouth. In this part, the lessons continue and the gang deals with the results of the almost-wedding.
Rating: R for the whole series, PG-13 for this part
Spoilers: Season Six up to Hell's Bells
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 3: Aftermath
Author's Notes:
This goes sorta AU after Hell's Bells, since I wrote this before Normal Again aired.
Anything in '*' is a thought. Ex: *This is a thought.*
Also, if you've never seen Ever After (the horror!) you won't get one of the jokes. But you should see it. Really.
* * * * *
Week "3", Tuesday afternoon (events in this story take place a week after Hell's Bells)
Spike came up through the sewer entrance in to the back of the Magic Shop. It was eerily quiet, not that the place was normally a great bustle of activity this early in the evening. He peaked out at the main floor area. Anya was tucked behind the counter, leaning forward on her elbows as she stared listlessly at some spot on the opposite wall. The ex-demon had been scarily subdued since the almost-wedding. She hadn't come into the Shop for a week, but stayed in her apartment (they thought), not answering her phone. She had, however, recorded a very distraught message on her voice mail, just for Xander in case he called. The groom himself was nowhere to be found. Hadn't been back to their place, wasn't in his parents' basement, wasn't anywhere in Sunnydale that they could tell.
The vampire soundlessly retreated, moving back to the training room door and inwardly groaned as his extra-special hearing picked up strains of synthetic poppy music.
Dawn was doing some warm-up stretches to the chirpy beat, already dressed in her sweats and holey t-shirt. Obviously almost laundry day.
"Aren't you old enough to be getting into that shrieky, angsty rock right about now?"
"Hey Spike!" The teen stood up and smiled at him. "And grunge rock is SO out. Please. It's almost as bad as those Flash tapes you made me lis-"
"_Clash_"
"Whatever." She walked over to the weapons wall and grabbed two jousting sticks, tossing one to him.
"So, you and your mates actually listen to those _girl_ bands?" Spike brought the stick vertical and circled the girl.
"_Boy_ bands!" Dawn whirled, tracking him. "What, not punk enough for you?"
He leaned in, jabbing at her. "Not punk enough for a rock!"
THWACK
"Th' great poofter's got more punk than those sodding gits!"
THWACK
"At least their fashion sense isn't twenty years out of style!"
THWACK
"They haven't been _living_ for twenty years! Still cutting their baby teeth I reckon!"
Spike jabbed in again and caught her off guard, almost knocking her stick away.
Dawn recovered and returned the move, somewhat clumsily, before retreating back into the center of the predator's circle.
Both sticks came up as he moved into her space, eyes watching warily.
"So, how's the girlfriend?"
The vamp stopped short. Dawn dove in and knocked the stick from one hand before he caught himself.
"Girlfriend?? Don't know what you're talking 'bout."
"Oh, please-"
THWACK-THWACK
"-Unless you do that to every girl who-" WHAP "-comes along-"
"Do what?"
"Oh, you know, tongue down the throat, arms on th-"
"She was my DATE."
He whirled, trying to get her off guard.
"You must be a pretty easy date." She followed him, blocking his shot.
THWACK
"We're friends, alright."
"Right. Friends. And I'm a natural blonde."
"All you need's a bottle, luv."
"So where'd you meet. Willy's? Vampire singles club?"
He paused, looked intrigued. "Think they 'ave a vampires single club?"
A snort. "Oh yeah. For those lonely, unstaked undead."
"S'not a bad idea…" he gazed off.
*OOF*
"Not fair! Can't hit a bloke when he's thinking of some unscrupulous money- making plan!"
Dawn rolled her eyes and waited for the vamp to roll to his feet.
"So, how'd I do?"
"Not bad. 'Course that sneak at the end knock you down a point or two… but overall good form, 'cept you're still a little slow with the stick. Let's be fair and give it a 4.7 for technical merit." He grinned at her. "And a 5.0 for artistic. Getting' good at the quips, Bit. Pretty soon they're start hurtin' me."
"I try," her teasing smile didn't quite hide the pride at her 'marks.' "But I'll never be quite as good at them as Buffy."
A groan. "Yeah, Big Sis sure knows the way to a guy's heart."
He tossed his stick to the side, barely missing the stuffed dummy head. "Speaking of the unnatural blonde one, where is she? Her and Red having a little dye party without us?"
"I think they're at some extra-secret Scooby Meeting…'course, without half the Scoobies. Some note about her and Willow doing the meet thing this afternoon. Didn't really care enough to read it."
"Well, that's bleedin' useful."
"Sor-ry. Didn't think you'd care anyway, being evil and all."
"Right. I don't. 'Nuf of the chatter now, let's get some real work in."
* * * * *
"All present?"
"Here!"
"Fully equipped with caffeinated beverages?"
"Check!"
"Then let the meeting uh, officially come to order."
Willow opened her composition notebook and looked up at Buffy and Tara. The three girls were sitting at a little corner table in the Expresso Pump.
The redhead sighed. "So, any new ideas on the Xander-Anya thing?"
Each looked down into her coffee cup.
"Anything…going better?"
"Anya's back at the Magic shop," Buffy offered. "But I think that has more to do with a strong fear and distrust of anyone else managing her money." A little frown.
"But hey, progress. Caring about money again. A good thing if you're Anya."
The ex-witch turned to Tara. "Xander?"
Fiddling with her cup lid, she answered, "Still at the motel. I tried to visit, but he wouldn't let me in. Just asked me to let everyone know he was…still alive. I'm really worried about him."
"Has anyone been able to talk to him?"
"Not that I know of." A frown. "He won't pick up the phone. Ever."
"What about work?"
"Don't know… Buffy, could you check with some of the guys from his crew?"
"Sure. You mean, do you want them to try talking to him?"
"It's worth a shot." Another sigh. "I don't know what else to do. I mean, I respect the whole time-off-from-everyone concept, but he needs someone to vent to. A _guy_ to vent to. I bet it's a guy kind of talk"
"Giles? Oh…the not-answering-phone problem."
Willow brightened. "Maybe Angel?"
Buffy almost spit her coffee out. "No way! They couldn't stand each other…well, ever."
Tara looked thoughtful. "What about Spike?"
"Uhhh…"
"He's a guy. He's definitely had girl issues. Don't know about the married part…and don't _want_ to know."
"But – he's Spike. And Xander? They're not the chummiest of pals."
"Maybe it's worth a shot." Willow chewed on her lower lip. "Worst that happens, is Xander refuses to see him. Somehow, I don't think Spike's feeling would be hurt.
"You don't think we'll have to pay him, do you?"
* * * * *
Tuesday night, the crypt
"And what exactly is in this for me?"
The blond huffed and stiffly crossed her arms. "The chance to help someone in need. That nice, tingly feeling one gets when one does something _right_."
A shrug. "Had 'nuf of the nice and tingly variety recently." A smirk. "Don't think I need anymore."
"Well, not getting any more."
"Exactly." He leaned back in his chair, the self-satisfied smirk still on his face.
"Exactly… what?"
"Oh, nothing. Look, have you asked Giles? Whole father-figure deal, might work."
"We were hoping *you* might work."
"Yeah, well, me an' the whelp don't really have that whole chemistry thing going on. We tolerate each other in the name of masculine solidarity, but that's it."
He contemplated the ceiling for a second.
"And since when have I become the substitute-Giles? Seems lately whenever you lot have a problem, it's 'go see Spike.' 'Spike will take care of it.' 'Spike knows what to do.' Poor git, no wonder he left you all. Do I look like a bloody twenty-questions champion?? Do y-"
"Are you _done_ with the ranting?" A very dramatic eye-roll. Then, "Look. Xander needs help. And a guy. Guy help."
The vamp sat there, looking stubborn and silent. Buffy groaned and buried her face in her hands. "We'll pay you?"
A sigh. Then he stood, walking behind his chair. "I was planning on visitin' the whelp anyway, t'morrow," he said quietly, looking down at the tattered upholstry. "Ran into a couple of his friends we played pool with, once or twice. They were worried 'bout him, guess he hasn't been showing up for the nine-to-five deal."
"Thanks-"
"I'm not doing it for you." His voice was low and harsh. "Jus' don't like to see the poor bugger go down, that's all." Thought for a second. "Plus, still need another guy. Won't let him leave me with a bunch of _girls_." He smirked again and Buffy shook her head.
"Well, thanks anyway." She went to leave but paused at the crypt door. "Let me know how it turns out."
A nod. "I will."
* * * * *
Week 3, Wednesday night.
"What IS that smell?"
"Hey! Same to you, mate."
Xander peered through the crack at the vampire. "Spike. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse." He tried to close the door but the blond threw out a hand to stop it.
"Now jus' hold on a minute! Don't think I'm here out of any consideration for you."
A snort. "Don't worry, I won't."
"Look, you have to let someone in. 'Less you want a very worried Slayer _kicking_ down your door."
Xander looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached to take off the chain.
"Alright. But again, I ask, what IS that smell?"
"Oh!" Spike held up a big paper bag, grease already soaking through the bottom. "I brought wings."
*
Xander motioned him into the room, and the vampire followed, stepping gingerly over the dirty t-shirts and boxers strewn across the floor. A stack of cardboad pizza boxes stood in one corner. In the other, a TV played some late night date show.
Spike flopped on the end on the unmade bed while Xander went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Tossed one to the vamp, then flung himself in the solitary armchair by the bed.
"It's not fair, you know." He gestured to the bag of wings. "You've found my weakness, but I have yet to learn yours."
Spike hoisted his beer and took a long drink. "Well, I should think it is quite obvious."
The two men sat for a moment in silence.
"Okay, you are never, ever telling anyone that THAT happened."
"Never! Bloody hell!" Spike looked shamefaced at the other. "So, how many times did they make _you_ watch it?"
A groan. "I lost count after ten. Sometimes it was twice in a row. You?"
Spike just shook his head. "Watched it so often over the summer, I was afraid it'd start playing in my dreams. Was one of the Bit's favorite movies. Girls." This pronouncement was followed by another shake of the head.
"You know, I bet they just liked watching that guy prance around in tights."
"Bloody poofter."
The brunette looked across at him with interest.
"Did _you_ used to wear tights?"
"What?! 'Course not. I grew up in the Victoria era, not the bleedin' circus."
"Oh."
Another long silence. Both dug into the wings, making a mess.
*
"You know, all that happy ending stuff is rot anyways."
They had finished the wings and were laid back on the bed and in the chair, watching an infomercial with girls in leotards and working on the beer. Xander cast a sidelong look at the vampire and his not-so-subtle topic.
"And so, it starts."
"Look, don't tell anyone I'm saying this, but it might help if you talk about." A shrug, a long draught of frosty nectar. "Keep it all inside, it'll eat you out." He paused, tried to read the brunette.
Xander sighed, glanced down at the beer can, then around the shabby room. "Alright, let's talk."
* * * * *
(Part 3 continues…just battling problem sets and writer's block :P)
2
3 Part: 3a / 4
4 Author: RedSpark
Email: red_spark@hotmail.com
5
6 Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, it's all theirs (JW, ME, and company)
7 Summary: Buffy has decided to teach Dawn some self-defense survival skills for life on the Hellmouth. In this part, the lessons continue and the gang deals with the results of the almost-wedding.
Rating: R for the whole series, PG-13 for this part
Spoilers: Season Six up to Hell's Bells
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 3: Aftermath
Author's Notes:
This goes sorta AU after Hell's Bells, since I wrote this before Normal Again aired.
Anything in '*' is a thought. Ex: *This is a thought.*
Also, if you've never seen Ever After (the horror!) you won't get one of the jokes. But you should see it. Really.
* * * * *
Week "3", Tuesday afternoon (events in this story take place a week after Hell's Bells)
Spike came up through the sewer entrance in to the back of the Magic Shop. It was eerily quiet, not that the place was normally a great bustle of activity this early in the evening. He peaked out at the main floor area. Anya was tucked behind the counter, leaning forward on her elbows as she stared listlessly at some spot on the opposite wall. The ex-demon had been scarily subdued since the almost-wedding. She hadn't come into the Shop for a week, but stayed in her apartment (they thought), not answering her phone. She had, however, recorded a very distraught message on her voice mail, just for Xander in case he called. The groom himself was nowhere to be found. Hadn't been back to their place, wasn't in his parents' basement, wasn't anywhere in Sunnydale that they could tell.
The vampire soundlessly retreated, moving back to the training room door and inwardly groaned as his extra-special hearing picked up strains of synthetic poppy music.
Dawn was doing some warm-up stretches to the chirpy beat, already dressed in her sweats and holey t-shirt. Obviously almost laundry day.
"Aren't you old enough to be getting into that shrieky, angsty rock right about now?"
"Hey Spike!" The teen stood up and smiled at him. "And grunge rock is SO out. Please. It's almost as bad as those Flash tapes you made me lis-"
"_Clash_"
"Whatever." She walked over to the weapons wall and grabbed two jousting sticks, tossing one to him.
"So, you and your mates actually listen to those _girl_ bands?" Spike brought the stick vertical and circled the girl.
"_Boy_ bands!" Dawn whirled, tracking him. "What, not punk enough for you?"
He leaned in, jabbing at her. "Not punk enough for a rock!"
THWACK
"Th' great poofter's got more punk than those sodding gits!"
THWACK
"At least their fashion sense isn't twenty years out of style!"
THWACK
"They haven't been _living_ for twenty years! Still cutting their baby teeth I reckon!"
Spike jabbed in again and caught her off guard, almost knocking her stick away.
Dawn recovered and returned the move, somewhat clumsily, before retreating back into the center of the predator's circle.
Both sticks came up as he moved into her space, eyes watching warily.
"So, how's the girlfriend?"
The vamp stopped short. Dawn dove in and knocked the stick from one hand before he caught himself.
"Girlfriend?? Don't know what you're talking 'bout."
"Oh, please-"
THWACK-THWACK
"-Unless you do that to every girl who-" WHAP "-comes along-"
"Do what?"
"Oh, you know, tongue down the throat, arms on th-"
"She was my DATE."
He whirled, trying to get her off guard.
"You must be a pretty easy date." She followed him, blocking his shot.
THWACK
"We're friends, alright."
"Right. Friends. And I'm a natural blonde."
"All you need's a bottle, luv."
"So where'd you meet. Willy's? Vampire singles club?"
He paused, looked intrigued. "Think they 'ave a vampires single club?"
A snort. "Oh yeah. For those lonely, unstaked undead."
"S'not a bad idea…" he gazed off.
*OOF*
"Not fair! Can't hit a bloke when he's thinking of some unscrupulous money- making plan!"
Dawn rolled her eyes and waited for the vamp to roll to his feet.
"So, how'd I do?"
"Not bad. 'Course that sneak at the end knock you down a point or two… but overall good form, 'cept you're still a little slow with the stick. Let's be fair and give it a 4.7 for technical merit." He grinned at her. "And a 5.0 for artistic. Getting' good at the quips, Bit. Pretty soon they're start hurtin' me."
"I try," her teasing smile didn't quite hide the pride at her 'marks.' "But I'll never be quite as good at them as Buffy."
A groan. "Yeah, Big Sis sure knows the way to a guy's heart."
He tossed his stick to the side, barely missing the stuffed dummy head. "Speaking of the unnatural blonde one, where is she? Her and Red having a little dye party without us?"
"I think they're at some extra-secret Scooby Meeting…'course, without half the Scoobies. Some note about her and Willow doing the meet thing this afternoon. Didn't really care enough to read it."
"Well, that's bleedin' useful."
"Sor-ry. Didn't think you'd care anyway, being evil and all."
"Right. I don't. 'Nuf of the chatter now, let's get some real work in."
* * * * *
"All present?"
"Here!"
"Fully equipped with caffeinated beverages?"
"Check!"
"Then let the meeting uh, officially come to order."
Willow opened her composition notebook and looked up at Buffy and Tara. The three girls were sitting at a little corner table in the Expresso Pump.
The redhead sighed. "So, any new ideas on the Xander-Anya thing?"
Each looked down into her coffee cup.
"Anything…going better?"
"Anya's back at the Magic shop," Buffy offered. "But I think that has more to do with a strong fear and distrust of anyone else managing her money." A little frown.
"But hey, progress. Caring about money again. A good thing if you're Anya."
The ex-witch turned to Tara. "Xander?"
Fiddling with her cup lid, she answered, "Still at the motel. I tried to visit, but he wouldn't let me in. Just asked me to let everyone know he was…still alive. I'm really worried about him."
"Has anyone been able to talk to him?"
"Not that I know of." A frown. "He won't pick up the phone. Ever."
"What about work?"
"Don't know… Buffy, could you check with some of the guys from his crew?"
"Sure. You mean, do you want them to try talking to him?"
"It's worth a shot." Another sigh. "I don't know what else to do. I mean, I respect the whole time-off-from-everyone concept, but he needs someone to vent to. A _guy_ to vent to. I bet it's a guy kind of talk"
"Giles? Oh…the not-answering-phone problem."
Willow brightened. "Maybe Angel?"
Buffy almost spit her coffee out. "No way! They couldn't stand each other…well, ever."
Tara looked thoughtful. "What about Spike?"
"Uhhh…"
"He's a guy. He's definitely had girl issues. Don't know about the married part…and don't _want_ to know."
"But – he's Spike. And Xander? They're not the chummiest of pals."
"Maybe it's worth a shot." Willow chewed on her lower lip. "Worst that happens, is Xander refuses to see him. Somehow, I don't think Spike's feeling would be hurt.
"You don't think we'll have to pay him, do you?"
* * * * *
Tuesday night, the crypt
"And what exactly is in this for me?"
The blond huffed and stiffly crossed her arms. "The chance to help someone in need. That nice, tingly feeling one gets when one does something _right_."
A shrug. "Had 'nuf of the nice and tingly variety recently." A smirk. "Don't think I need anymore."
"Well, not getting any more."
"Exactly." He leaned back in his chair, the self-satisfied smirk still on his face.
"Exactly… what?"
"Oh, nothing. Look, have you asked Giles? Whole father-figure deal, might work."
"We were hoping *you* might work."
"Yeah, well, me an' the whelp don't really have that whole chemistry thing going on. We tolerate each other in the name of masculine solidarity, but that's it."
He contemplated the ceiling for a second.
"And since when have I become the substitute-Giles? Seems lately whenever you lot have a problem, it's 'go see Spike.' 'Spike will take care of it.' 'Spike knows what to do.' Poor git, no wonder he left you all. Do I look like a bloody twenty-questions champion?? Do y-"
"Are you _done_ with the ranting?" A very dramatic eye-roll. Then, "Look. Xander needs help. And a guy. Guy help."
The vamp sat there, looking stubborn and silent. Buffy groaned and buried her face in her hands. "We'll pay you?"
A sigh. Then he stood, walking behind his chair. "I was planning on visitin' the whelp anyway, t'morrow," he said quietly, looking down at the tattered upholstry. "Ran into a couple of his friends we played pool with, once or twice. They were worried 'bout him, guess he hasn't been showing up for the nine-to-five deal."
"Thanks-"
"I'm not doing it for you." His voice was low and harsh. "Jus' don't like to see the poor bugger go down, that's all." Thought for a second. "Plus, still need another guy. Won't let him leave me with a bunch of _girls_." He smirked again and Buffy shook her head.
"Well, thanks anyway." She went to leave but paused at the crypt door. "Let me know how it turns out."
A nod. "I will."
* * * * *
Week 3, Wednesday night.
"What IS that smell?"
"Hey! Same to you, mate."
Xander peered through the crack at the vampire. "Spike. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse." He tried to close the door but the blond threw out a hand to stop it.
"Now jus' hold on a minute! Don't think I'm here out of any consideration for you."
A snort. "Don't worry, I won't."
"Look, you have to let someone in. 'Less you want a very worried Slayer _kicking_ down your door."
Xander looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached to take off the chain.
"Alright. But again, I ask, what IS that smell?"
"Oh!" Spike held up a big paper bag, grease already soaking through the bottom. "I brought wings."
*
Xander motioned him into the room, and the vampire followed, stepping gingerly over the dirty t-shirts and boxers strewn across the floor. A stack of cardboad pizza boxes stood in one corner. In the other, a TV played some late night date show.
Spike flopped on the end on the unmade bed while Xander went to the fridge and pulled out two beers. Tossed one to the vamp, then flung himself in the solitary armchair by the bed.
"It's not fair, you know." He gestured to the bag of wings. "You've found my weakness, but I have yet to learn yours."
Spike hoisted his beer and took a long drink. "Well, I should think it is quite obvious."
The two men sat for a moment in silence.
"Okay, you are never, ever telling anyone that THAT happened."
"Never! Bloody hell!" Spike looked shamefaced at the other. "So, how many times did they make _you_ watch it?"
A groan. "I lost count after ten. Sometimes it was twice in a row. You?"
Spike just shook his head. "Watched it so often over the summer, I was afraid it'd start playing in my dreams. Was one of the Bit's favorite movies. Girls." This pronouncement was followed by another shake of the head.
"You know, I bet they just liked watching that guy prance around in tights."
"Bloody poofter."
The brunette looked across at him with interest.
"Did _you_ used to wear tights?"
"What?! 'Course not. I grew up in the Victoria era, not the bleedin' circus."
"Oh."
Another long silence. Both dug into the wings, making a mess.
*
"You know, all that happy ending stuff is rot anyways."
They had finished the wings and were laid back on the bed and in the chair, watching an infomercial with girls in leotards and working on the beer. Xander cast a sidelong look at the vampire and his not-so-subtle topic.
"And so, it starts."
"Look, don't tell anyone I'm saying this, but it might help if you talk about." A shrug, a long draught of frosty nectar. "Keep it all inside, it'll eat you out." He paused, tried to read the brunette.
Xander sighed, glanced down at the beer can, then around the shabby room. "Alright, let's talk."
* * * * *
(Part 3 continues…just battling problem sets and writer's block :P)