Who's that boy? (1)
Fanfiction by dutchbuffy2305
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: vague spoilers from eps 10-15
Timeline: S7, somewhere around eps 12-15
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Giles opened the door after the bell had rung for the third time. He couldn't see why one of the girls didn't do it, but they insisted on not being dressed and ready. That he was still half covered in shaving cream did not seem to matter to them one whit. He looked at the tanned, clean-cut young man with the big duffel slung over his shoulder with polite inquiry.
"Hi! " The boy said in a friendly voice and stuck out his hand. "Are you Mr. Giles? I'm Tyler, a potential slayer. I was told to report here."
Giles felt his jaw sag. This must be some colossal cock-up. A boy who thought he was a slayer?
"What?" he said. "You can't be! You're a boy! I mean, you are, aren't you?"
The boy grinned and nodded. "My watcher told me there might be some confusion about this. She gave me a letter to hand over to you." His voice sounded distinctly Australian.
Giles took the letter gingerly, his razor still in his hand. He spotted the name on the back of the envelope and his eyebrows rose in pleased surprise. "Mrs. Hickson! How surprising! I thought she'd retired a long while ago!"
Tyler nodded and said," Well, she's pretty old. She didn't feel up to coming here all the way from Down Under, so she sent me with a letter and a greeting to you."
Giles wished he'd had a cup or two of strong morning tea before having to deal with complex stuff like this. "Oh, well, better come in then. I'll tell Buffy."
Tyler's face lit up. "She's the real Slayer, isn't she? Amazing! She must be a real corker!"
"Yes, yes, quite. Buffy! Buffy, come down please!"
"Giles, I'm not even made up yet!" Buffy said, clearly annoyed. She came down the stairs, and looked at Giles standing there in his old pajama bottoms and sloppy t-shirt, white goop on his face, huge bags under his eyes, and then at the fresh-faced young man standing next to him. He was medium height, with curly honey-brown hair and little glasses perched on his slightly aquiline nose. He smiled up at her broadly, flung down his duffel, and came at her with outstretched hand.
"You must be Buffy!" He said, and shook her hand vigorously.
With dismay, Giles saw Buffy flip her hair behind her shoulders with a girlish shake of her head.
"Hi! And you are?" A smile so broad as hadn't been seen since the Buffybot lit her face.
Tyler started to stammer under the onslaught of such radiance. "T-Tyler. I'm from Australia. My watcher sent me here, to, um, help you. You."
Buffy gave off a sweet little tinkle of laughter. Giles was revolted. He hadn't seen her behave like this since high school. What was worse, sleeping with vampires or overt flirting with teenagers in his presence? It was a toss-up, really. He went upstairs to finish his toilette. He refused to face the baffling world any longer without a smooth face and a decent breakfast.
When he came down again, feeling reasonably refreshed, even that was denied him. The only thing left was strawberry yogurt and chocolate covered cornflakes. No bread, no eggs, no bacon. Young people were much like locusts, he mused. Descending on a place and devouring everything in sight. Who'd been the great man again who said that? He made do with a strong cup of tea, without milk.
In the living room chaos reigned. The whole gaggle of girls, including Dawn and Buffy, was surrounding Tyler, chattering like crazy. The poor boy looked rather hounded. A little group of people, who surely had never before thought of themselves as having anything in common, looked on from the side. Xander, Willow and Spike.
Giles joined them. Willow rolled her eyes at him expressively, and he raised his mug in acknowledgement.
"Giles, there must be a mistake! Boys can't be Slayers, right? Right?" Xander said, looking more put out than Giles thought was warranted. He wasn't the one having to look after the whole giggling lipgloss-twirling lot!
"I certainly always thought so…" Giles answered. "There was a letter. I'm sure Mrs. Hickson explains it all." He spotted the letter, lying abandoned on the coffee table. He lifted the flap quite easily and started to read.
"Well?" Willow prodded, impatient.
"She simply commends young Tyler in my care…Very talented young person…Difficult times, too old to finish proper training, directive from the CoW…" He looked up at Willow and Xander, perplexed. "Not a word about Tyler being unique or different."
"Maybe in Australia male slayers are normal?" Xander suggested.
"You make it sound like Mars, Xander. It's on the same planet as America and England, same rules apply."
Buffy emerged from the cocoon of girls and advanced on them smilingly. "Isn't this great, guys? A male Slayer? He'll be such an asset to our group! I can't wait to start training him!"
Giles felt rather than saw the other males echo his own wince.
"Buffy," Spike started in a very calm voice. "Since we've never heard of male slayers before, how can we be sure he is who he says he is? He could be the First, impersonating a Slayer again."
"Yeah, right," Xander said. "My point exactly, Spike!"
Spike rolled his eyes at that, which looked weird because his left eye was still slightly swollen and blackened, but ploughed on. "Is there a test we can do, Giles? To see if he's really a Slayer?"
Gils ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm right there with you Spike, but really, he has a letter from Mrs. Hickson. I know her; she was on of my teachers. It's her handwriting, her style. I'm absolutely inclined to trust her."
"Really, guys, the envy is just dripping off your faces!" Buffy said in derision. "You're just saying this because all of us girls are thrilled to finally have a cute young guy to train with!"
The guys shared a look. Aren't we cute?
"I'm young! Xander protested. "I'm handsome! What's he got that I haven't?"
"It's more what have you got that he hasn't?" Buffy said pointedly and merged with the throng again. Spike and Giles kept their faces straight at Xander's discomfort.
"I'm ruggedly handsome!" Giles muttered.
They turned to Spike.
"I'm good-looking!" Spike put in defensively. "And I have killer abs!"
"Seen yourself in a mirror lately? You look worse than when Glory did you. And you are not in the competition, 'cause you're a) ancient b) a vampire and c) you bleach your hair. I rest my case. And anyway, I bet they didn't even have mirrors where you come from!" Xander seemed back to his usual mode of communication with Spike.
"They had looking-glasses, and one was not supposed to look in them the whole time," Spike mumbled, and tried to find Buffy in the crowd of girls.
"I think cute here equals youth and innocence. I'm quite sure none of us have those qualities anymore." Giles said pensively.
Buffy emerged again, the same relentlessly perky smile plastered to her face. "He can bunk with you, Spike, we can't put him in with the girls!"
"No, absolutely not, that might lead to, gasp, fraternization amongst the troops!" Spike spat out.
She was already off again. Giles threw a thoughtful look at Spike's face. Well, apparently Buffy trusted him enough to put a young defenseless human in the same room with him, definitely a major change. Still, he felt the tiniest pang of sympathy for the vampire. It probably wasn't much fun to see Buffy moon over another person. He thought it was a safe bet Spike wasn't over his feelings for Buffy, not with having gotten a soul. He vowed to have a talk with Spike as soon as things quieted down a bit.
"Again, Spike man, I'm so with you!"
"Spike is quite right," Giles agreed. "We must keep our distance from those impressionable young girls."
Willow jumped a little and went off to the kitchen like a shot, mumbling something about more coffee.
"Must've hurt her feelings, Giles," Spike remarked. "What'd you do that for?"
"What?" Giles' head turned in confusion to the direction if the kitchen. "Surely you can't mean? Oh. Dear me, how tactless. Still, it's not good form."
*******
The smell of female sweat was overwhelming. Spike inhaled it with relish as he reentered the training space with a cup of coffee in his hand. He walked up to Buffy and they stood silently observing the heaving and grunting couples for a moment.
"Why did you put Tyler and Vi together?" he asked her.
"No special reason," Buffy said. "Why?"
"Think you should separate them. They're by far the clumsiest of the lot, if you keep them together they're gonna learn nothing."
Buffy thought on this a moment and nodded. "I think you're right. Good point. I'll redivide the groups."
She clapped her hand on his shoulder briefly, and moved in purposefully, stopping everybody with a word and a gesture, allotting them new partners and a new task. Spike looked on, basking in the glow of the small compliment she'd paid him. He thought she was really doing well on the leadership thing. She was made to be a general, moving among the troops, a word here, a gesture there, putting heart in all of them. He was very proud to be there at her side, being able to help his slayer. Well, not his of course. Ever.
He took a deep breath and finished his coffee. He always felt it gave him some extra edge to have something warm in his body while fighting or training. Nothing could beat human blood of course, but it added a little fluidity to his movements. He took off his shirt and started warming-up moves, uneasily aware of many eyes resting upon him.
Some time later, when everyone was getting noticeably slower, the accident occurred. Tyler slipped on a patch of sweat and seriously twisted his ankle. Buffy was with him in a second, and kneeled beside the groaning boy. Gently she prodded the ankle, eliciting more moans and a girly squeak from Tyler. A big bump was growing below the anklebone.
"Well, Tyler, we'll have to get you to hospital to see how serious this is. Giles, would you call Xander?"
Tenderly Buffy pushed a light brown curl off his face. Spike turned his head away sharply. He hadn't expected it to hurt this much. He'd accepted that Buffy could never love him, hadn't he? It was inevitable that there would be someone else sooner or later. Better take up her slack instead of thinking gloomy thoughts. No brooding.
He herded the girls together and instructed then to do their cooling down exercise and get showered. He could hear Giles and Buffy softly arguing. Buffy wanted to ride with Tyler to the hospital; Giles was of the opinion that she should leave that to Xander.
"You can't be everywhere, Buffy. It's more important that you remain here. You can't show favoritism, they all need you!"
Grudgingly, Buffy gave in. Xander came in and carted Tyler off to First Aid, and Giles took the girls to a lecture on demonic defenses. Buffy and Spike remained. He thought Buffy looked tense and antsy.
"You up for a spot of violence, Slayer?"
"Sure. And since when are you calling me Slayer again?"
"Must have slipped out. Buffy."
"Huh."
They started sparring silently; the only sounds the slapping of bare feet on the floor, Buffy's panting and the dull thudding of blow after blow. Spike realized they hadn't fought like this in a long time. Since the potentials had gotten in, there had been short demonstrations punctuated by explanations, but no long bouts. They were really working up a wonderful rhythm, this was their dance, and there was almost nothing like it.
Buffy crushed Spike to a wall in a forceful body check, when, without transition, the air between them suddenly became charged. Their eyes met and Spike saw something dawn in Buffy's eyes. He noticed he was breathing in time with her panting, and the rise and fall of her breasts was distracting him. He pushed her away from his body violently, making her stumble and mill her arms around.
"Better stop now!" Spike gasped.
"No way," Buffy said, a fierce grin starting to from on her face. "This is the best fight I've had in ages, I'm not gonna quit!"
She closed in on him, raining blows on his torso. Spike started to retreat, changing to a defensive style. Buffy gave no quarter, and with a brilliant scissor movement floored him. She was on him in a flash, and straddled him, panting hard. Spike lay still, staring up at her.
"Get off me, Buffy. The fight is over," he said, striving for calm.
"Is it? Not if I don't want it to be," Buffy said, and leaned forward on his up-turned arms. A few stray hairs tickled his face, and he had to close his eyes against the feelings that rose unbidden.
"What is it with you and guys who are down? Half an hour ago you were all over Tyler, and now me?" He bucked and twisted, trying to get way from her, but it only made everything worse.
Buffy smiled down at him. "Kinda starting to enjoy it, huh?"
"Buffy, please. This isn't funny. Don't bloody play with me!"
She pouted, then released him abruptly. Spike rose slowly, feeling bruised in more ways than one.
"I thought we put this behind us, Buffy. Don't start something you know you're not going to bloody finish!" The bitterness and the anger nearly choked him.
She turned a confused face towards him. "Start? Finish? I don't know anything anymore, Spike. Why don't you explain it to me?"
He released a shaky breath. "You know I will always love you. I know and accept you can never love me. Explanation over. That leaves no room for sodding games."
Buffy stood looking back at him with an unreadable expression. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but changed her mind and stalked off, lifting her hands in an expression of frustration.
Spike stared at her retreating back, her hair dark with sweat, her old and much-washed sweats, and he thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
*****
"Spike? Would you help me get up to the bathroom and shave? I can't do it on my own!" Tyler called out.
They struggled to the bathroom. It would have been much easier for Spike to carry Tyler, but he knew better than to offer. Spike propped the boy up before the bathroom mirror, and got the shock of his life when he saw his own face staring back at him. The eyes moved away and he realized it wasn't. Of course not, it was Tyler's face. Now that he saw it in reverse, he could see the incredible resemblance. Looked just like he had at that age, curls, glasses and all, hunching over a small shaving mirror and a bowl of warm water, shaving. How strange that nobody else had noticed the likeness. He didn't look seventeen anymore, of course, and his hair was bleached, but still!
Spike stared, entranced, at the memory of his face. Tyler was intent upon his shaving and didn't notice Spike's scrutiny. A thought occurred to Spike. Was this the reason Buffy was so enamored of the boy? Was she seeing a less tarnished version of the man she was afraid to love? He felt a sudden flood of pity for Buffy, doomed to love creatures everybody feared and despised, condemned by her own Slayer nature.
"Spike? Do vampires shave?" Tyler asked while soaping up yet again.
"I don't. Never took out a questionnaire," Spike answered curtly.
He changed hands in holding Tyler up. God, was that boy a slow shaver! And a slow healer, too. That ankle was still bad after, what, three days? His suspicions returned in full force. Giles never had gotten that call to Australia through, had he?
He escorted Tyler back to his chair and went to find Giles.
"Giles? You ever reach the lady watcher Down Under?"
Giles looked vaguely guilty. "Um, no, I've tried once or twice, but there never was any answer."
Spike told him his suspicions. Giles whipped off his glasses decisively and started to clean them. "I'm afraid you may be right. In all probability, Mrs. Hickson is just as dead as the rest of the council. You go and get Buffy and help her restrain that young man, or whatever he is. Willow and I will think on a spell to find out what or who he is and what he's doing here!"
Within minutes of Spike leaving the room a furious Buffy stormed in. "Giles! Spike says we have to tie Tyler up? Tell me it isn't true!"
"Buffy, I really think we must take this seriously. We've been far too lenient in letting a male so-called Slayer in. He must be investigated thoroughly."
"Bur Giles, look at him! He's just a boy, a sweet, innocent young boy! How could he be evil! He wears glasses, for God's sake!"
Giles held his glasses up. "These mean I'm not evil? Really, Buffy, I'm far from impressed by your reasoning. We will investigate young Tyler. Go help Spike tie him up."
Buffy stomped off. When Willow and he descended to the basement with their arms full of magic paraphernalia, they eye were met by an angrily pacing Buffy, and Spike leaning against the wall.
"Tying up again, eh? Reminds of me and of whatsisname?" Spike said with a smirk.
"Tucker's brother!" Willow and Buffy chorused.
"Well, very handy to still have the tying-up-chair and the rope at the ready."
"Tyler?' Giles said. "Care to tell us who you really are and what you want?"
Tyler looked frightened, rims of white visible around the blue in his eyes. "I told you, I'm just Tyler. I'm just a boy, a slayer in training! What kind of spell are you going to do on me? Are you going to turn me into something weird?"
"How about a frog?" Willow said, advancing threateningly with a vial of red stuff held up.
"Cool!" Buffy said. "We can have a kissing contest to see if he turns into a prince!"
Tyler squeaked at this, or at the dark look he got from Spike.
"Buffy!" Giles said in admonishment. "Please, you need to take this seriously! Our lives could be in danger from this so-called boy!"
"Exactly! Good thinking, Giles!" Spike said, and Giles didn't know for a moment or two how to respond to this. "Thanks, Spike," he said stiffly and watched Willow make a circle with the magic sand.
Buffy came to stand next to Spike and together they watched the incantation be performed by Willow and Giles, which included waving gourds, saying words in ancient languages and smoking purple incense, and lastly the throwing of seaweed.
"Magic always makes me uneasy, you?" Buffy whispered to Spike.
"Never trusted it," Spike agreed. "Used it once or twice in a pinch, though."
"Really? Who taught you?" Buffy asked.
Nothing spectacular seemed to happen. Tyler sat there, still looking wigged and ordinary, although wreathed in purple smoke and tendrils of brownish black weed hanging from his ears.
"Well?" Buffy demanded impatiently. "Tell me what's going on!"
Giles scratched his neck. "Um, nothing, actually. This spell should tell us whether he is of demonic origin, or has glamours and so on cast over him- but there seems to be nothing like that. Willow?"
"Giles is right, Buffy. There are no indications of witchery or warlocky or demony goings-on. We are so baffled and stumped!"
"Okay, what's next? What's the next step in finding out more about him?"
"Um, torture?" Willow suggested diffidently. "We could get Anya to torture him, like Andrew?"
"Nah!" Buffy said. "We knew Andrew was evil, we know no such thing about Tyler. Let's just keep him tied up, so we can keep a better eye on him, and try calling Australia again first."
Short of torture there seemed indeed no other options, so Giles and Willow complied. Buffy insisted on carrying Tyler and his chair to a good position in front of the TV, fiddled with his ropes to make them more comfortable and brought him a soft drink. She held can and straw herself while he drank. Giles and Spike watched this with somber looks in their eyes and identical crossed arms.
******
Spike was getting a bag of blood from the fridge, not bothering to put on the kitchen lights, when he heard voices coming from the living room, going to the dining room past the kitchen.
"Don't you still think he's incredibly cute?" Buffy was saying. "That curly hair, I love those curls, just makes me want to run my hands through them…"
"The hair's okay,' he heard Willow answer, in a much less enthusiastic tone.
"And his blue eyes…such sweet, trusting innocent blue eyes, like a little ---what do you call them?"
"Angels?"
"No! Never angels – cherubs! That's it, cherubs!"
"Kinda puts to mind fat babies with wings?"
"You know what I mean, Will, just 'cause you like girls better, doesn't mean you can't get the totally hot vibe of curly haired blue-eyed guys?"
Spike imagined Willow's eyebrows rising. Was Buffy even aware she might be describing him?
"Huh-huh," Willow said, in a skeptic tone of voice.
"Him just sitting there, all tied-up and helpless…Don't you just wanna rip his tight little T-shirt open and lick those abs?"
"Buffy! How much caffeine did you have? And didn't we go through this in the fall? Are you under a spell again?"
"Nope, no spell. Can't I just think of a cute young guy like that? What's so wrong about that? Guys do it all the time!"
"Yeah, but I meant the aggressive vibe, digging the tied-upness, the ripping off of clothing…That's not like you. You'd never do stuff like that!"
Ha. Spike could just imagine the look on Buffy's face now. The look of absolute denial. He realized he must have sounded the "Ha" because the voices stilled and Buffy stuck her head around the kitchen door. She blushed when she saw him.
"Oh. I didn't realize you were there."
"I got that," Spike said evenly and made his way past her to the basement. Being a weak sod and all he couldn't resist a last look over his shoulder before he entered, and she was still staring after him, looking guilty.
"What was that all about?" Willow asked. "Spike had an opinion on you ripping off T-shirts?"
Buffy colored again. "I guess our, um, relationship, was big on the ripping off of clothes, and, um, aggression."
"Goes with the Slayer package, I suppose," Willow said equably.
"You're not squicked?" Buffy looked at her sideways, and her face was smooth and amused, not squicked looking at all.
"Whatever rocks your boat, Buffy…." She smiled. "And, um, I guess that since Spike you have this new thing for medium sized, blue-eyed, curly haired guys?"
"What?" Buffy squeaked. "What are you saying?"
"Well, you gotta admit, both RJ and Tyler look a little like younger, unbleached versions of Spike. Could you say 'sublimation' any louder?"
Buffy's face closed up. "I hear you," she said with dangerous calm.
"Well, ask yourself, what does that mean?"
Buffy left the room and Willow could hear her go up the stairs. She guessed the conversation was over.
TBC