Repercussions, Part 4



Spike paused before the crypt door, then knocked before he entered. As he pushed the door open, Clem jumped in his chair, knocking over a TV tray strewn with various snack foods.

"Spike! You're back!"

"Didn't you get my e mail, mate?" Spike walked over and clapped his friend on the back before righting the fallen table.

"I did...I guess I got the dates mixed up. I thought it was next week. Silly me!"

Spike smiled in spite of his dark mood. "Sorry I scared you, mate. I made you spill your snacks." Spike picked up several bags and boxes off the floor and put them back on the table.

"Oh, that's alright. Seems to happen to me a lot. The slayer is always making me spill something. Don't know what it is about that girl...she's sweet, though. No wonder you have a thing for her."

Spike scratched his head and walked over to the sofa. "Yeah, a thing," he said absently, as he sat down.

"What?" asked Clem, muting the television. "You went off and did this crazy soul thing for her. Now you don't seem too excited about it. Don't you love her anymore?"

Spike stared at Clem for a moment, then let out a small laugh. "Sometimes, love isn't enough," he said, shaking his head.

"Ain't it the truth, though," agreed Clem. He held out a box to Spike. "Bugle?"

************************************************************************

Buffy checked herself in the mirror. Jeans and a slightly low cut tank top. Casual, but a little sexy. Not trying too hard. "This is good," she said to herself. "This says, 'Welcome back, Spike. Nice soul you have there.'" She sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up Mr. Gordo. "It's not like I care if he cares what I look like," she said to the pig. "Oh, who am I kidding?" She flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, where she had spent many nights over the summer in just this position, trying to sort out her feelings for him. "Messy, but real," he'd said to her once, and she thought now that that was a very accurate description. She thought she had come to some kind of understanding of their relationship, or of herself, at least. She was really trying not to be Denial!Buffy. She had feelings for him, strong ones. And it could have been love. But she wouldn't let it be. Why? Well, he was an evil, soulless vampire. Except, now he was just the vampire part. Everything was different now. At least, she hoped it was. That was a very dangerous thing. Hope.

Buffy had made sure that Dawn had some place to be so that she wouldn't be able to witness Buffy's craziness and lord it over her later. When the doorbell rang at 3:30, she was relieved. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and opened the door.

"Oh. It's you."

"Thank you for that most enthusiastic greeting."

"Sorry, Giles, come on in. It's just that I was expecting someone else." She stepped aside to let him through the door, staring at his most un-Giles like outfit of faded Levi's and a Who t-shirt.

"Would that be Spike?" he asked, putting down his briefcase on the coffee table. "He's right behind me."

She looked out the door to see Spike, in faded Levi's and a Ramones t- shirt, stamping out his flaming blanket on her front porch. She waved him in and plopped down in a chair. So, Spike had brought Giles along as a chaperone. Yay. And why did that bother her, exactly? Best not think to much about the why's, she decided.

The two Englishmen sat on the sofa, comfortable as old college roommates or something, and she could have throttled them both. She glared at them from her less than ladylike slump in the chair. "What are you two, the Bobsy twins?"

Giles laughed and looked down at their shirts and jeans. "Oh, we didn't plan this, I assure you. Just a coincidence. Although we did purchase the shirts at the same time, at a quite lovely vintage clothing store in London..."

"Sorry to interrupt this truly fascinating shopping story, but, why are you here?"

"Yes, quite. So sorry, Buffy," said Giles. "Well, you see, Spike's employment situation has rather a lot to do with me, in a roundabout way, not to say that he didn't come by it of his volition, only that it involves me to a certain extent, and..."

"Giles, is there a point in there somewhere?"

"Buffy," Spike interjected, "what ol' Rupes here is trying to say is that I'm going to be working at the Magic Box."

"What about Anya?" Buffy asked.

"She'll still be in charge," answered Giles, "but it's difficult to run the shop on one's own, and I'm not anxious to go back to it on a daily basis, frankly. He'll assist her, the shop can stay open longer hours, and this will give her some free time as well as allow Anya and me to go on buying trips, etcetera."

"What does Spike know about running a business and did you just say 'Anya and me?'"

"I assure you that Spike has a better head for business than any of us were previously aware of. He came up with several innovative marketing strategies while he was staying with me in England. And yes, I did say 'Anya and me.' I am still part owner, and Anya and I have discussed traveling to the Far East and elsewhere to purchase some artifacts we've had our eyes on."

Buffy decided to let the Giles and Anya thing go for a moment, and focus on the Spike thing. She looked at him directly and he finally met her gaze. "Good for you," she said. He smiled, a shy smile she didn't think she'd ever seen before. "Me, I'm still wearing the cow hat."

"Well, that's another reason I'm here today, dear. Spike has come up with something that might relieve you of your food industry duties."

Spike sat forward on the sofa. "I hope you don't mind that I started this without checking with you first. But, Giles and I were talking about the council of wankers and how they object to giving you a salary, the whole precedent setting thing, and I had this idea."

"What is it?" she asked warily.

"You don't have to do anything. It's just, I came up with a cost/benefit analysis which proves it's much more beneficial for you to be slaying full time than working at that...place. It would actually be in the council's best interest to pay you."

"And they're all about their best interest, Buffy. I've seen his analysis, and frankly, it's bloody brilliant. He's come up with a way to place a numeric value on slaying. The council has got to go for it, if their goal is truly the public good. And they'd never admit otherwise. Here, let me show you." Giles pulled out some papers from his brief case and Buffy sat between him and Spike on the sofa while they went over them with her.

"This is a lot of work," she said, looking at Spike.

He shrugged. "It kept my mind off...things."

She nodded in understanding. "Do you really think it'll work?" she asked Giles.

"It's got a better chance than anything else I can think of."

"What about that whole accountability thing? I'll have to do things their way."

"Well, to be quite blunt, I think the council has given up on making you accountable to them. They know that you do your job, and do it well. Spike's analysis just shows how much better you could do it if you could put all your energy into it. Also, there are a few newer members of the council who aren't quite so into policy and procedure. I'll present this myself, so as to make sure no special requirements are attached to its approval, should we get that far."

She turned back to Spike, who was looking at her intently and biting his lip, awaiting her decision. "Thank you," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this." She turned back to Giles. "Let's do it."

"Fantastic. Now that that's settled, I'll be shoving off. I'm sure you two have, er, things, to discuss and whatnot." Giles got up, patted Spike on the shoulder, kissed Buffy's cheek, and left.

They both stared longingly at the closed door.

"Sooo," said Buffy, "how's that soul thing working out for you?"



TBC