Chapter Three: Play to Win
About an hour later, Buffy tied her hair into a ponytail. "Sure you're up to this?" she teased him.
Spike glared at her and snorted. "I think the question is are you, pet?"
"For you, 'm always ready Spike." she stretched, warming up.
"That so, luv?" Spike gave her his stealthy, snarky grin. His eyes twinkled with repressed energy. " Reckon that's why you've staked me already, eh?" He winked.
"I'm just waiting for the right moment. Like to watch you squirm," Buffy crossed her arms, playing her role.
"Mmmhmmm," Spike murmured, studying her. "Like to watch you do things too, pet..." he licked his lips provocatively. He slinked around her in circular motion, as if studying potential prey.
Her eyes followed him, watching his every move, from the slight bend in his knees to the minor elevation in his arms for balance, to his poised position on the balls of his feet. She remained silent, as his eyes slid over her like fire. She pulled a stake from her sleeve, eyes never leaving his as she did.
"Well now, looks like you've got your weapon," Spike smiled, eyes widening, totally enjoying the moment. He put on his game face. "And I've got mine..." he stopped circling.
"What are we waiting for, then?" Buffy raised her brows, wondering why he hadn't done anything yet.
He grinned at her question. "What am I waiting for?" He paused in his movements and stood rigid, in a position to be completely unable to attack, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm…what am I waiting for? Well, you're the Slayer, what are you waiting for?" he baited, putting his hands in his pockets, as if searching for his gum.
She looked somewhat indignant at his remark. And shifted her wait to the side, hands on hips. "Oh I don't know, I thought I'd let you get the first hit in, so your man pride isn't that injured when I kick your ass."
"Oh, baby likes to play, does she?" he asked, highly amused. "Well pet, did it ever occur to you, that what I was really waiting for, was you to let your guard down?" he announced, leaping at her and ducking under her defenses once he knew she was in no position to avoid his attack. He ducked under an ill-timed, perhaps halfhearted swipe at his person. His arms quickly encircled her waist and he swung himself behind her with that animalistic grace that belonged to both he and her, and bent his fangs towards her neck. "A bit slow tonight, honey?" he rumbled seductively, mouth poised inches from the blood he could hear pumping rapidly beneath the surface.
She leaned back against him, stake in hand forgotten. "Maybe I wanted to be a little slow," she responded coquettishly as his features returned to human and he placed a soft kiss on the side of her throat.
"Mmm, minx," he muttered against her skin. "You know, I'd much rather be kissing you than fighting you."
"I know," she responded. And with a sudden shift of her weight, she threw Spike over her shoulder, onto the floor in front of her, and planted a shoe daintily on his chest. She smiled down at him triumphantly. "Little slow tonight, sweetie?"
He grinned up at her. "That's my girl."
"Who knew you went for the dominatrix thing?" she joked, helping him up off the floor. "Oh wait, I did."
He growled playfully. "Tease."
"Hey, no fair using the cute growlies," she warned, hearing him. "We're supposed to be training. Making me all jello-y is an unfair advantage. And Giles is in the next room!"
He charged her and threw a punch, which she easily ducked. "You know I go straight for the kill, babe."
"Funny how you keep losing though, isn't it?" she quipped back, neatly executing a cross combination with her arms, though the face of her palm only struck thin air. The distinctive "whoosh" of Spike's duster told her that he'd slipped behind her again, and she spun a rapid kick off her right leg and struck with the left. He leaned backwards six inches to avoid it, and sprung back into position once it had passed, going in to sweep low with his legs while she was slightly off balance from her miss.
"Only keep losing so as not to destroy your fragile confidence Slayer, thought you knew that," he responded conversationally, as she fell from his well-executed blow.
She grunted when she hit the mat face first, but rolled quickly left to avoid the next hit. Springing to her feet, the Slayer turned and struck out, fist coming in contact with hard (distractingly familiar) pectoral muscles. Spike staggered backwards a bit and she pressed the advantage. "Yeah, so you keep telling yourself," she snorted, throwing a hook punch to his left side, which he blocked bodily by throwing up his forearms. She led with the other hand to counter, but this time he caught it, hands clutching her at the wrist and forearm, rendering the arm helpless. He gave a circular pull downward and she felt herself being yanked forward. Shifting her weight, she put her feet in front of her and turned the fall into a flip. Once she'd regained her equilibrium she threw her free arm backwards with enough force to throw the vampire off balance. With her back still facing him, she threw and elbow into his stomach. He moved backwards again, but recovered more speedily than she would have thought.
He flipped over her and executed a perfect spin kick into her right shoulder, and she grunted in surprise. "Don't need to keep tellin' myself when I know," he stated, picking up the dialogue again easily, as if they were in her living room, talking conversationally with one another on the couch. "I mean really, Slayer, you know I'm bloody good."
"Bloody full of it, more like it," she grunted in response, feigning left before delivering a partial uppercut to his stomach with her right hand. He flew backwards and landed on his back, chuckling at the same time.
"That's why you love me, baby," he laughed, springing up in classic martial arts fashion.
"And that's also why I'm going to kick your ass," she zinged back, playfully, breathing heavily yet feeling rejuvenated from their excursions.
"You sure talk a lot, Slayer. Not much for action though, from what I've seen," he teased.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I'll show you action, buddy." She pushed towards him, throwing the fastest, strongest series of punches she could, alternating elbows with fists with palms. He dodged and blocked most, exhilarated and unbelievably turned on by her physical prowess.
"Not bad, Slayer. But you're still doin' one thing wrong."
She never ceased her attack. "What's…that?"
"You press when you don't have an advantage," he revealed, sliding his entire body sideways as she threw herself forward. Grabbing an arm extended by punching while he dodged, he twisted it behind her and used his other hand to pin her free arm to her side. "And… you talk too much." His game face descended and he nicked the side of her neck shallowly with a fang. "You lose, tonight."
She was about to object to his questionable use of fangs, but all annoyances subsided when she felt his tongue gently lap up the thin rivulet of red liquid he had drawn from her throat. "Been a weird day," she excused lamely.
"Uh huh. Something happen at the mall, pet?"
"I'm just worried about Dawn. She's still at the movies," Buffy revealed. "With friends. And no one watching out for her."
Spike chuckled a little. "Knew you were thinkin' on somethin'. Or you wouldn't have let me get that first sweep in so early in the game."
"That obvious, huh?"
"Like Poofy in a Gap store, luv. Why so worried 'bout Nip? She's got a good head on her shoulders. An' she promised she'd be back at 10:00 sharp."
"I don't know." Buffy walked over to the cabinet and withdrew a towel, wiping off her arms and neck. "It's Dawn. I'm nervous whenever she's out without me. Hell god or no hell god present." She paused thoughtfully. "Oh don't even pretend you're not, Mister. I know you are. Or you would have totally read that feint and dodged the uppercut," she pointed out.
He raised his hands defensively. "I'm not worried. Well, maybe a bit, but not much."
"And why not?"
Spike shrugged. "Cause whelp and ex-demon were goin' to the theater tonight. Probably went to see the same over-hyped movie."
"They are?"
He nodded.
"You knew this?"
He nodded again.
"Oh, so unfair advantage," she griped. "If I'd have known, I totally would have been concentrating more."
"And here I thought my seductive charm and dashing good looks had you all in a knot," he stated, arching an eyebrow fiendishly.
She snorted. "Not even."
He feigned hurt. "Not even a bit?"
"Nope."
"Little?"
"Huh uh."
"Tiny bit?"
She grinned. "Maybe."
He turned triumphant. "Knew it."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not…"
"Ahem…"
Both Slayer and vampire turned at the sound of Giles clearing his throat. "Are you done training, already?" the Watcher asked, looking from one to the other expectantly. "Because if you are, I'd suggest the two of you go on patrol before you kill us all with your not so witty banter," he drawled dryly, though there was humor behind his eyes.
"Who crawled up your pants today, Watcher Boy?" Spike asked conversationally, plopping down on the couch lazily.
"Anya and inventory, if you must know."
Buffy and even Spike looked sympathetic at that statement. "No worries Giles, we're heading for patrol right now."
"Goin' to Willy's, see if we can't get a heads up on whomever decided to make a vamp of Messy last night," Spike explained. He smirked. "Been too bloody long since I got to see that weasel squirm in my grasp."
"Spike," Buffy warned.
He sighed. "Right. I'll be a good lil Scooby, pet," he promised, holding up his hand in a poorly postured imitation of the Boy Scout's salute.
Buffy scoffed. "Where did you even learn that?"
"Oh, who bloody doesn't know it? Poofy doesn't count."
The Slayer rolled her eyes and headed to the weapons cabinet. "You know, I think you have some obvious insecurity issues with Angel."
"Or I just like makin' fun of him."
"Or that. But I'm leaning more towards the former. You know, my psych professor says that patriarch issues spring from a…"
"Oh please. If I had patriarch issues I'd have killed him long ago. He's just fun to poke'n prod. Too slow to say anythin' witty, too bad tempered to do anything impressive," Spike snorted derisively.
Giles watched the banter with a slightly defeated, amused look and leaned against the doorway leading into the front of the shop. Xander had been absolutely right that one day he'd overheard the boy talking with the group while doing research. Those two were so obvious. He just wondered when Buffy would have the courtesy to come out and tell him about her relationship with William the Formerly Bloody. Until then, he figured he'd let those continue to stomp on the eggshells they so cleverly thought they were tiptoeing upon when in his presence. "Children please, behave," Giles chastised, as the argument shifted to the issue of whether Angel copied Spike or vise versa on the duster look.
Spike turned, indignant. "Children? I could be your bloody grandfather, Rupert."
"Thankfully not…" Giles drawled, and then purposely lowered his voice so neither could hear him. "…or you doing whatever sordid thing you're doing with Buffy would be considered incest." He shook his head and raised his tone once again. "Well, good luck tonight, be careful, and I'll check in with Dawn later, when she's supposed to be back."
Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Giles." And yanked Spike out the back door.
"I'll have her back by 1 o'clock, da!" Spike called back, in that annoyingly impudent tone he liked to use when he thought he was one up on someone.
Giles sighed and returned to the restock orders he currently had piled on the counter of the Magic Box. "Da, indeed," he muttered. "I knew I should have staked him when I had the chance."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You want to be good cop or bad cop?" Buffy asked as they strolled hand in hand towards the direction of Sunnydale's seedy side. "Cuz personally, I think I make a better bad cop than you."
Spike scoffed. "Cha, you would. Except for the whole little blonde girl thing," he drawled. "I'm ten times the bad cop you are."
"Only because you're ten times uglier," Buffy responded instantaneously. "Fine, you be bad cop."
"And you twirl your hair 'round your finger an' pop your gum on the sidelines," Spike agreed.
She slugged him in the arm. "Stereotype much?"
He rubbed at the place she'd struck him with his free arm and feigned a dour look. "Like you aren't askin' for it, pet. Your name is Buffy, you're blonde, you live in California, and you were a cheerleader. If you're objectin' to the stereotype all I can say is that it's your own bloody fault."
She glared at him. "Bite me."
"Is that an offer for dinner, luv?"
She made a face. "I totally walked into that one, didn't I?"
He nodded sadly and squeezed her hand in his own. "'Fraid so. You must really be off your game if you let me beat you physically and verbally all in one night."
"I just felt bad 'cause you normally NEVER win."
"Pfft. Like it's ever made you feel bad before," he snorted, absently tracing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb as they bickered.
She laid her head on his shoulder. "What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I didn't occasionally feel bad for constantly kicking your ass?"
"Erm…the regular Buffy kind?"
She elbowed him. "I'll respond to that later. But we're here. So…"
He nodded, and furrowed his brow, feigning seriousness. "Right. All business, then."
They stopped at the entrance to Willy's, the bar as per usual, looking and smelling less than inviting. Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Is it just me or does this place get slimier and slimier every time we visit it?"
"It's not you, luv, it's the clientele," Spike quipped, pushing the door open. "Got enough slime between 'em to keep Angel's hair slicked back for the next 250 years…"
She rolled her eyes. "Patriarch issues," she echoed, stepping in ahead of him.
Somewhere between the outside world and the door, flirtatious, teasing Buffy became all business, bad ass Slayer. It was a marvel to behold, and Spike found himself forgetful of the fact that he was supposed to undergo a similar transformation as they entered the alternate universe that was Willy's. Instead he marveled at how the girl he'd seen giggle herself silly over some prat in a chick flick last week proceeded to make every head, demon, human, or multiple, turn towards her the second she crossed the threshold. He observed the uncomfortable silence that fell over the room like a blanket, effectively smoldering conversation and action all together, save for the occasional, involuntary drip of slime from one of the bar patron's overactive pores.
Willy looked up from trying (in vain) to wipe a spot from the inside of a glass with his greasy rag as his establishment fell into a sort of tense haze. He sighed inwardly, knowing that it was either Buffy, Spike or… he squinted into the shadows… even better; both. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. "Uh… Slayer… hi. And Spike. Fancy seeing you both here, you know, at the same time."
Hearing the sound of the weasel's voice was enough to shake Spike out of the little trance he'd put himself into while watching his woman work, and with a little toss of his head to clear it, he stepped out from where he'd stopped in the doorway and followed Buffy up towards the bar, eyes dark and dangerous.
"Willy…" Buffy greeted with a curt nod of her head. She placed her elbows on the bar, but made a face as the demon next to her took a puff on its cigarette.
Spike growled in his throat, remembering a statement not so long ago about how those were detrimental to the health of humans. And how they tended to shorten one's life if one was within close proximity to them. Sidling up to the smoking demon, the vampire tapped it on one the rotting brown horns that grew along its shoulder.
It looked up and grunted something at him in its own language, which he could only partially decipher. Spike decided it had said, "What do you want?" or something to that effect, but in actuality, there had probably been a rude monomer placed at the end of the statement, though whether it was against his mother's virtue or the sanctity of his birth, he wasn't sure.
"I think the lady would appreciate it if you put that out." The vampire gestured to the cigarette.
The demon glared at Spike and took the cigarette out of its mouth. However, instead of putting it out, like the vampire had so politely asked it to do, the thing puffed errantly in Buffy's direction and stuck the smoke back into his mouth.
Buffy made a face, but generally ignored the demon and turned back to Willy. Spike growled. He'd been polite… hadn't he? Deciding that it was time he put the blasted thing out himself, he grasped the back of the demon's head in one lightning fast moment and shoved its head face first into the bar. The pressure effectively stomped out the cigarette, though unfortunately (well, not really) the force of the vampire's blow caused the distinct snap of broken facial bones and crunching cartilage sound throughout the silent bar. The vampire felt flesh bruise as blood vessels ruptured under the pressure of his hand, and he took great delight in the grating sounds the gurgling demon made as he continued downward force, making a sweeping motion from left to right with his wrist to add to the pain out of pure spite. Spike grinned and allowed demon's head to come back up, where his victim murmured incoherently, dazed and in pain. "Thanks mate," he grinned, plucking the destroyed cigarette out of his adversary's mouth and tossing it into a nearby ashtray. "Right then, business."
Buffy held back the giggle that threatened to escape her throat by coughing. "So, Willy. We heard from a fledgling last night that there's actually organized sire-age going on."
Willy resumed, with apt fascination, his attempts to remove that spot from the mug. "Vamps get sired all the time in Sunnydale. Hellmouth, remember?"
Spike growled. "Don't like dumb people who think they have smart mouths, weasel. I suggest you answer the lady's query."
Willy took the chance to sneer at Spike from behind the. "Or you'll what? Concussion me to death?"
One second later, the bar owner found himself dangling on the other side of the bar, about a foot off the ground by the collar of his shirt, gasping for air. His mind did flash on the irony of the fact that the one time he attempted to have some spine it completely backfired. "You…you're not supposed to…" he managed to wheeze out, as Spike morphed into demon form.
"Got that little problem fixed up, Willy my friend. In a bit of a mood to see how far my lady friend here, will let me take it."
Willy looked to Buffy, who had seated herself primly on one of the bar stools, next to the demon who was still clutching his broken face. She looked bored. "Aren't you… supposed to…protect humans?" the small man barked desperately.
"Nothing in the Slayer handbook bout her havin' to protect rats," Spike pointed out, wickedly demonic smile on his face. "So… you know anything, or do I get to have a bit of a snack after all?"
"He'd hardly be two bites," Buffy chimed in with an overdramatic sigh, looking from Spike to Willy.
"I think I could nip three out of him, what do you think, pet?"
"I think…that he'd better say something before I take you up on that wager."
Willy choked, and grasped at Spike's forearms in an attempt to gain some leverage and hopefully, some oxygen. The vampire growled the second the human's oily hands came in contact with his leather, and dropped his potential meal with a disgusted thud.
Buffy studied Willy while he lay on the floor gasping, clutching an injured throat. She supposed he looked properly cowed. "So… sire-age. Your memory get jogged a little?" she asked conversationally, cocking her head to the side and regarding the barkeep with a look that was disinterested and at the same time, deadly.
Willy wheezed and pulled himself to his feet. "I ah… I haven't heard much…but ah…" he paused to swallow gingerly and rub at his throat with his hand. "Heard from some of the fledglings that one of the older one's has moved in. Wants to be master of the hellmouth."
"Great, more ambitious vamps," Buffy sighed. "Do we get a name?"
"I don't know."
Spike growled and advanced on Willy again, ready to drain it out of the man if he had to. Buffy stopped him with a sharp look. "He's telling the truth."
Spike's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Sure?" he asked.
She nodded. "He knows better than to lie to us, don't you, Willy?" she turned to the snitch and gave her most icily pleasant smile.
"Yeah, of course, Slayer. You know me."
"I do know you. And I'll bet the second you get more information, you'll come right over and tell us about it, so we don't have to come and mess up business here again, right?" She still used that sweet, annoyingly perky tone. Spike grinned inwardly. She could be wicked when she wanted to be.
"Yeah. I'll call you right up, I find out anything new."
"Good. You do that," Spike agreed, eyes flashing gold. "We'll be off then." He reached over and straightened Willy's collar, giving the small man a particularly nasty look. "Nice talking to you, Willy. Old times," he chortled.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and led him back outside. "Well, that was a bust."
Spike shrugged. "New Master? We'll hear of 'em soon enough, I figure."
"Well, I'd like to do it before a whole lot more people died."
"Guess there's always that." Spike looked thoughtful. "Maybe the Wiccas could conjure us up a hand?"
Buffy made a face.
Spike rolled his eyes. "No, not an actual hand, you nit. The help kind of hand."
"Oh. Sorry, bad Mummy hand memories." She paused. "Well, we could ask them to help I guess." She cocked her head to the side as her hand found his and she entwined their fingers. "Have you noticed…"
"Underlying tension 'tween the lovers?" Spike finished her thought, looking at her. She seemed almost surprised, but then remembered that Spike was the one vampire in the world attuned to the human psyche.
"Yeah. Most of the time they're okay. Then sometimes, it just seems…weird."
"Well, can't always have a smooth ride in love, I reckon."
She stopped. "So you're saying there's going to be trouble for us?"
He made a face. "You mean more than there's been already in just gettin' here?" He shook his head. "Maybe."
"You're not worried? You don't sound worried." She frowned.
He squeezed her hand and shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe a little. But I figure, if something does happen, I'll do everything I can to make it up to you, til I'm dead, for good, at least."
She smiled ruefully. "That might have been the sweetest thing ever. Except for the fighting part."
"Well, the ups and downs are half the fun, don't you think, luv?"
"I don't know. I guess we'll see."
"Guess we will."
About an hour later, Buffy tied her hair into a ponytail. "Sure you're up to this?" she teased him.
Spike glared at her and snorted. "I think the question is are you, pet?"
"For you, 'm always ready Spike." she stretched, warming up.
"That so, luv?" Spike gave her his stealthy, snarky grin. His eyes twinkled with repressed energy. " Reckon that's why you've staked me already, eh?" He winked.
"I'm just waiting for the right moment. Like to watch you squirm," Buffy crossed her arms, playing her role.
"Mmmhmmm," Spike murmured, studying her. "Like to watch you do things too, pet..." he licked his lips provocatively. He slinked around her in circular motion, as if studying potential prey.
Her eyes followed him, watching his every move, from the slight bend in his knees to the minor elevation in his arms for balance, to his poised position on the balls of his feet. She remained silent, as his eyes slid over her like fire. She pulled a stake from her sleeve, eyes never leaving his as she did.
"Well now, looks like you've got your weapon," Spike smiled, eyes widening, totally enjoying the moment. He put on his game face. "And I've got mine..." he stopped circling.
"What are we waiting for, then?" Buffy raised her brows, wondering why he hadn't done anything yet.
He grinned at her question. "What am I waiting for?" He paused in his movements and stood rigid, in a position to be completely unable to attack, looking thoughtful. "Hmmm…what am I waiting for? Well, you're the Slayer, what are you waiting for?" he baited, putting his hands in his pockets, as if searching for his gum.
She looked somewhat indignant at his remark. And shifted her wait to the side, hands on hips. "Oh I don't know, I thought I'd let you get the first hit in, so your man pride isn't that injured when I kick your ass."
"Oh, baby likes to play, does she?" he asked, highly amused. "Well pet, did it ever occur to you, that what I was really waiting for, was you to let your guard down?" he announced, leaping at her and ducking under her defenses once he knew she was in no position to avoid his attack. He ducked under an ill-timed, perhaps halfhearted swipe at his person. His arms quickly encircled her waist and he swung himself behind her with that animalistic grace that belonged to both he and her, and bent his fangs towards her neck. "A bit slow tonight, honey?" he rumbled seductively, mouth poised inches from the blood he could hear pumping rapidly beneath the surface.
She leaned back against him, stake in hand forgotten. "Maybe I wanted to be a little slow," she responded coquettishly as his features returned to human and he placed a soft kiss on the side of her throat.
"Mmm, minx," he muttered against her skin. "You know, I'd much rather be kissing you than fighting you."
"I know," she responded. And with a sudden shift of her weight, she threw Spike over her shoulder, onto the floor in front of her, and planted a shoe daintily on his chest. She smiled down at him triumphantly. "Little slow tonight, sweetie?"
He grinned up at her. "That's my girl."
"Who knew you went for the dominatrix thing?" she joked, helping him up off the floor. "Oh wait, I did."
He growled playfully. "Tease."
"Hey, no fair using the cute growlies," she warned, hearing him. "We're supposed to be training. Making me all jello-y is an unfair advantage. And Giles is in the next room!"
He charged her and threw a punch, which she easily ducked. "You know I go straight for the kill, babe."
"Funny how you keep losing though, isn't it?" she quipped back, neatly executing a cross combination with her arms, though the face of her palm only struck thin air. The distinctive "whoosh" of Spike's duster told her that he'd slipped behind her again, and she spun a rapid kick off her right leg and struck with the left. He leaned backwards six inches to avoid it, and sprung back into position once it had passed, going in to sweep low with his legs while she was slightly off balance from her miss.
"Only keep losing so as not to destroy your fragile confidence Slayer, thought you knew that," he responded conversationally, as she fell from his well-executed blow.
She grunted when she hit the mat face first, but rolled quickly left to avoid the next hit. Springing to her feet, the Slayer turned and struck out, fist coming in contact with hard (distractingly familiar) pectoral muscles. Spike staggered backwards a bit and she pressed the advantage. "Yeah, so you keep telling yourself," she snorted, throwing a hook punch to his left side, which he blocked bodily by throwing up his forearms. She led with the other hand to counter, but this time he caught it, hands clutching her at the wrist and forearm, rendering the arm helpless. He gave a circular pull downward and she felt herself being yanked forward. Shifting her weight, she put her feet in front of her and turned the fall into a flip. Once she'd regained her equilibrium she threw her free arm backwards with enough force to throw the vampire off balance. With her back still facing him, she threw and elbow into his stomach. He moved backwards again, but recovered more speedily than she would have thought.
He flipped over her and executed a perfect spin kick into her right shoulder, and she grunted in surprise. "Don't need to keep tellin' myself when I know," he stated, picking up the dialogue again easily, as if they were in her living room, talking conversationally with one another on the couch. "I mean really, Slayer, you know I'm bloody good."
"Bloody full of it, more like it," she grunted in response, feigning left before delivering a partial uppercut to his stomach with her right hand. He flew backwards and landed on his back, chuckling at the same time.
"That's why you love me, baby," he laughed, springing up in classic martial arts fashion.
"And that's also why I'm going to kick your ass," she zinged back, playfully, breathing heavily yet feeling rejuvenated from their excursions.
"You sure talk a lot, Slayer. Not much for action though, from what I've seen," he teased.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I'll show you action, buddy." She pushed towards him, throwing the fastest, strongest series of punches she could, alternating elbows with fists with palms. He dodged and blocked most, exhilarated and unbelievably turned on by her physical prowess.
"Not bad, Slayer. But you're still doin' one thing wrong."
She never ceased her attack. "What's…that?"
"You press when you don't have an advantage," he revealed, sliding his entire body sideways as she threw herself forward. Grabbing an arm extended by punching while he dodged, he twisted it behind her and used his other hand to pin her free arm to her side. "And… you talk too much." His game face descended and he nicked the side of her neck shallowly with a fang. "You lose, tonight."
She was about to object to his questionable use of fangs, but all annoyances subsided when she felt his tongue gently lap up the thin rivulet of red liquid he had drawn from her throat. "Been a weird day," she excused lamely.
"Uh huh. Something happen at the mall, pet?"
"I'm just worried about Dawn. She's still at the movies," Buffy revealed. "With friends. And no one watching out for her."
Spike chuckled a little. "Knew you were thinkin' on somethin'. Or you wouldn't have let me get that first sweep in so early in the game."
"That obvious, huh?"
"Like Poofy in a Gap store, luv. Why so worried 'bout Nip? She's got a good head on her shoulders. An' she promised she'd be back at 10:00 sharp."
"I don't know." Buffy walked over to the cabinet and withdrew a towel, wiping off her arms and neck. "It's Dawn. I'm nervous whenever she's out without me. Hell god or no hell god present." She paused thoughtfully. "Oh don't even pretend you're not, Mister. I know you are. Or you would have totally read that feint and dodged the uppercut," she pointed out.
He raised his hands defensively. "I'm not worried. Well, maybe a bit, but not much."
"And why not?"
Spike shrugged. "Cause whelp and ex-demon were goin' to the theater tonight. Probably went to see the same over-hyped movie."
"They are?"
He nodded.
"You knew this?"
He nodded again.
"Oh, so unfair advantage," she griped. "If I'd have known, I totally would have been concentrating more."
"And here I thought my seductive charm and dashing good looks had you all in a knot," he stated, arching an eyebrow fiendishly.
She snorted. "Not even."
He feigned hurt. "Not even a bit?"
"Nope."
"Little?"
"Huh uh."
"Tiny bit?"
She grinned. "Maybe."
He turned triumphant. "Knew it."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not…"
"Ahem…"
Both Slayer and vampire turned at the sound of Giles clearing his throat. "Are you done training, already?" the Watcher asked, looking from one to the other expectantly. "Because if you are, I'd suggest the two of you go on patrol before you kill us all with your not so witty banter," he drawled dryly, though there was humor behind his eyes.
"Who crawled up your pants today, Watcher Boy?" Spike asked conversationally, plopping down on the couch lazily.
"Anya and inventory, if you must know."
Buffy and even Spike looked sympathetic at that statement. "No worries Giles, we're heading for patrol right now."
"Goin' to Willy's, see if we can't get a heads up on whomever decided to make a vamp of Messy last night," Spike explained. He smirked. "Been too bloody long since I got to see that weasel squirm in my grasp."
"Spike," Buffy warned.
He sighed. "Right. I'll be a good lil Scooby, pet," he promised, holding up his hand in a poorly postured imitation of the Boy Scout's salute.
Buffy scoffed. "Where did you even learn that?"
"Oh, who bloody doesn't know it? Poofy doesn't count."
The Slayer rolled her eyes and headed to the weapons cabinet. "You know, I think you have some obvious insecurity issues with Angel."
"Or I just like makin' fun of him."
"Or that. But I'm leaning more towards the former. You know, my psych professor says that patriarch issues spring from a…"
"Oh please. If I had patriarch issues I'd have killed him long ago. He's just fun to poke'n prod. Too slow to say anythin' witty, too bad tempered to do anything impressive," Spike snorted derisively.
Giles watched the banter with a slightly defeated, amused look and leaned against the doorway leading into the front of the shop. Xander had been absolutely right that one day he'd overheard the boy talking with the group while doing research. Those two were so obvious. He just wondered when Buffy would have the courtesy to come out and tell him about her relationship with William the Formerly Bloody. Until then, he figured he'd let those continue to stomp on the eggshells they so cleverly thought they were tiptoeing upon when in his presence. "Children please, behave," Giles chastised, as the argument shifted to the issue of whether Angel copied Spike or vise versa on the duster look.
Spike turned, indignant. "Children? I could be your bloody grandfather, Rupert."
"Thankfully not…" Giles drawled, and then purposely lowered his voice so neither could hear him. "…or you doing whatever sordid thing you're doing with Buffy would be considered incest." He shook his head and raised his tone once again. "Well, good luck tonight, be careful, and I'll check in with Dawn later, when she's supposed to be back."
Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Giles." And yanked Spike out the back door.
"I'll have her back by 1 o'clock, da!" Spike called back, in that annoyingly impudent tone he liked to use when he thought he was one up on someone.
Giles sighed and returned to the restock orders he currently had piled on the counter of the Magic Box. "Da, indeed," he muttered. "I knew I should have staked him when I had the chance."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You want to be good cop or bad cop?" Buffy asked as they strolled hand in hand towards the direction of Sunnydale's seedy side. "Cuz personally, I think I make a better bad cop than you."
Spike scoffed. "Cha, you would. Except for the whole little blonde girl thing," he drawled. "I'm ten times the bad cop you are."
"Only because you're ten times uglier," Buffy responded instantaneously. "Fine, you be bad cop."
"And you twirl your hair 'round your finger an' pop your gum on the sidelines," Spike agreed.
She slugged him in the arm. "Stereotype much?"
He rubbed at the place she'd struck him with his free arm and feigned a dour look. "Like you aren't askin' for it, pet. Your name is Buffy, you're blonde, you live in California, and you were a cheerleader. If you're objectin' to the stereotype all I can say is that it's your own bloody fault."
She glared at him. "Bite me."
"Is that an offer for dinner, luv?"
She made a face. "I totally walked into that one, didn't I?"
He nodded sadly and squeezed her hand in his own. "'Fraid so. You must really be off your game if you let me beat you physically and verbally all in one night."
"I just felt bad 'cause you normally NEVER win."
"Pfft. Like it's ever made you feel bad before," he snorted, absently tracing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb as they bickered.
She laid her head on his shoulder. "What kind of a girlfriend would I be if I didn't occasionally feel bad for constantly kicking your ass?"
"Erm…the regular Buffy kind?"
She elbowed him. "I'll respond to that later. But we're here. So…"
He nodded, and furrowed his brow, feigning seriousness. "Right. All business, then."
They stopped at the entrance to Willy's, the bar as per usual, looking and smelling less than inviting. Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Is it just me or does this place get slimier and slimier every time we visit it?"
"It's not you, luv, it's the clientele," Spike quipped, pushing the door open. "Got enough slime between 'em to keep Angel's hair slicked back for the next 250 years…"
She rolled her eyes. "Patriarch issues," she echoed, stepping in ahead of him.
Somewhere between the outside world and the door, flirtatious, teasing Buffy became all business, bad ass Slayer. It was a marvel to behold, and Spike found himself forgetful of the fact that he was supposed to undergo a similar transformation as they entered the alternate universe that was Willy's. Instead he marveled at how the girl he'd seen giggle herself silly over some prat in a chick flick last week proceeded to make every head, demon, human, or multiple, turn towards her the second she crossed the threshold. He observed the uncomfortable silence that fell over the room like a blanket, effectively smoldering conversation and action all together, save for the occasional, involuntary drip of slime from one of the bar patron's overactive pores.
Willy looked up from trying (in vain) to wipe a spot from the inside of a glass with his greasy rag as his establishment fell into a sort of tense haze. He sighed inwardly, knowing that it was either Buffy, Spike or… he squinted into the shadows… even better; both. He tried not to look as nervous as he felt. "Uh… Slayer… hi. And Spike. Fancy seeing you both here, you know, at the same time."
Hearing the sound of the weasel's voice was enough to shake Spike out of the little trance he'd put himself into while watching his woman work, and with a little toss of his head to clear it, he stepped out from where he'd stopped in the doorway and followed Buffy up towards the bar, eyes dark and dangerous.
"Willy…" Buffy greeted with a curt nod of her head. She placed her elbows on the bar, but made a face as the demon next to her took a puff on its cigarette.
Spike growled in his throat, remembering a statement not so long ago about how those were detrimental to the health of humans. And how they tended to shorten one's life if one was within close proximity to them. Sidling up to the smoking demon, the vampire tapped it on one the rotting brown horns that grew along its shoulder.
It looked up and grunted something at him in its own language, which he could only partially decipher. Spike decided it had said, "What do you want?" or something to that effect, but in actuality, there had probably been a rude monomer placed at the end of the statement, though whether it was against his mother's virtue or the sanctity of his birth, he wasn't sure.
"I think the lady would appreciate it if you put that out." The vampire gestured to the cigarette.
The demon glared at Spike and took the cigarette out of its mouth. However, instead of putting it out, like the vampire had so politely asked it to do, the thing puffed errantly in Buffy's direction and stuck the smoke back into his mouth.
Buffy made a face, but generally ignored the demon and turned back to Willy. Spike growled. He'd been polite… hadn't he? Deciding that it was time he put the blasted thing out himself, he grasped the back of the demon's head in one lightning fast moment and shoved its head face first into the bar. The pressure effectively stomped out the cigarette, though unfortunately (well, not really) the force of the vampire's blow caused the distinct snap of broken facial bones and crunching cartilage sound throughout the silent bar. The vampire felt flesh bruise as blood vessels ruptured under the pressure of his hand, and he took great delight in the grating sounds the gurgling demon made as he continued downward force, making a sweeping motion from left to right with his wrist to add to the pain out of pure spite. Spike grinned and allowed demon's head to come back up, where his victim murmured incoherently, dazed and in pain. "Thanks mate," he grinned, plucking the destroyed cigarette out of his adversary's mouth and tossing it into a nearby ashtray. "Right then, business."
Buffy held back the giggle that threatened to escape her throat by coughing. "So, Willy. We heard from a fledgling last night that there's actually organized sire-age going on."
Willy resumed, with apt fascination, his attempts to remove that spot from the mug. "Vamps get sired all the time in Sunnydale. Hellmouth, remember?"
Spike growled. "Don't like dumb people who think they have smart mouths, weasel. I suggest you answer the lady's query."
Willy took the chance to sneer at Spike from behind the. "Or you'll what? Concussion me to death?"
One second later, the bar owner found himself dangling on the other side of the bar, about a foot off the ground by the collar of his shirt, gasping for air. His mind did flash on the irony of the fact that the one time he attempted to have some spine it completely backfired. "You…you're not supposed to…" he managed to wheeze out, as Spike morphed into demon form.
"Got that little problem fixed up, Willy my friend. In a bit of a mood to see how far my lady friend here, will let me take it."
Willy looked to Buffy, who had seated herself primly on one of the bar stools, next to the demon who was still clutching his broken face. She looked bored. "Aren't you… supposed to…protect humans?" the small man barked desperately.
"Nothing in the Slayer handbook bout her havin' to protect rats," Spike pointed out, wickedly demonic smile on his face. "So… you know anything, or do I get to have a bit of a snack after all?"
"He'd hardly be two bites," Buffy chimed in with an overdramatic sigh, looking from Spike to Willy.
"I think I could nip three out of him, what do you think, pet?"
"I think…that he'd better say something before I take you up on that wager."
Willy choked, and grasped at Spike's forearms in an attempt to gain some leverage and hopefully, some oxygen. The vampire growled the second the human's oily hands came in contact with his leather, and dropped his potential meal with a disgusted thud.
Buffy studied Willy while he lay on the floor gasping, clutching an injured throat. She supposed he looked properly cowed. "So… sire-age. Your memory get jogged a little?" she asked conversationally, cocking her head to the side and regarding the barkeep with a look that was disinterested and at the same time, deadly.
Willy wheezed and pulled himself to his feet. "I ah… I haven't heard much…but ah…" he paused to swallow gingerly and rub at his throat with his hand. "Heard from some of the fledglings that one of the older one's has moved in. Wants to be master of the hellmouth."
"Great, more ambitious vamps," Buffy sighed. "Do we get a name?"
"I don't know."
Spike growled and advanced on Willy again, ready to drain it out of the man if he had to. Buffy stopped him with a sharp look. "He's telling the truth."
Spike's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Sure?" he asked.
She nodded. "He knows better than to lie to us, don't you, Willy?" she turned to the snitch and gave her most icily pleasant smile.
"Yeah, of course, Slayer. You know me."
"I do know you. And I'll bet the second you get more information, you'll come right over and tell us about it, so we don't have to come and mess up business here again, right?" She still used that sweet, annoyingly perky tone. Spike grinned inwardly. She could be wicked when she wanted to be.
"Yeah. I'll call you right up, I find out anything new."
"Good. You do that," Spike agreed, eyes flashing gold. "We'll be off then." He reached over and straightened Willy's collar, giving the small man a particularly nasty look. "Nice talking to you, Willy. Old times," he chortled.
Buffy rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and led him back outside. "Well, that was a bust."
Spike shrugged. "New Master? We'll hear of 'em soon enough, I figure."
"Well, I'd like to do it before a whole lot more people died."
"Guess there's always that." Spike looked thoughtful. "Maybe the Wiccas could conjure us up a hand?"
Buffy made a face.
Spike rolled his eyes. "No, not an actual hand, you nit. The help kind of hand."
"Oh. Sorry, bad Mummy hand memories." She paused. "Well, we could ask them to help I guess." She cocked her head to the side as her hand found his and she entwined their fingers. "Have you noticed…"
"Underlying tension 'tween the lovers?" Spike finished her thought, looking at her. She seemed almost surprised, but then remembered that Spike was the one vampire in the world attuned to the human psyche.
"Yeah. Most of the time they're okay. Then sometimes, it just seems…weird."
"Well, can't always have a smooth ride in love, I reckon."
She stopped. "So you're saying there's going to be trouble for us?"
He made a face. "You mean more than there's been already in just gettin' here?" He shook his head. "Maybe."
"You're not worried? You don't sound worried." She frowned.
He squeezed her hand and shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe a little. But I figure, if something does happen, I'll do everything I can to make it up to you, til I'm dead, for good, at least."
She smiled ruefully. "That might have been the sweetest thing ever. Except for the fighting part."
"Well, the ups and downs are half the fun, don't you think, luv?"
"I don't know. I guess we'll see."
"Guess we will."