Payback
By iyaorisha
Timing: AU S7
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)
Summary: Spike gets a job. Buffy runs afoul of a brother-sister team of demon bounty hunters. (This is the third story in a series of four. Read "Look What Love Gave Us" and "Unmoved -the Fic" first.)
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence, language, rape flashback, torture flashback, and M/F sexuality.
Spoilers: None if you've seen S6. References to "FFL", "Lovers' Walk", the trade novel "Pretty Maids All in a Row", and my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath", "Look What Love Gave Us" and "Unmoved -the Fic"
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com
***
Chapter 2
"Bugger this." Spike threw down his cigarette butt and stalked away. He got about five steps before a hand landed on the collar of his duster and hauled him back.
"Hey, watch the leather." He complained as Buffy threw him to the ground.
"Spike, I'm going to count to three." She held up three fingers. "And when I'm done, you're gonna be inside the Alibi asking Willy for a job."
"I'll starve first." The bleached vampire said with as much dignity as he could muster lying on his back in the alley with the Slayer standing over him.
"No, you won't." Buffy hissed. "Because that would upset Dawn. If she's upset, she might not do well on the SATs. And, if she gets anything below a 1200, I may have to dust you."
"Really," Spike smirked. "Cause that might upset the Little Bit, too." He picked himself up. "So, why don't we just go home now and I'll even help her with studying the maths section. I know that's not your strong suit."
Buffy protested. "I did perfectly well on both sections of the SATs. I didn't *have* to go to U of Sunnydale, you know. I could have gone to Berkeley or BU. And I would have done great in college if it wasn't for all the distractions of Slaying -many of which you orchestrated, I might add. Hey!" The petite blonde's eyes narrowed. "You're doing it now."
"Doing what?" Spike said and gave her a look of utter innocence.
"You're distracting me. Get your ass in the bar before I kick it in there."
Ah well, it was worth a shot, Spike thought as he pushed open the door to Willy's Alibi. His preternatural eyes adjusted instantly to the bar's dark and smoky interior. Spotting Willy polishing glasses, the vampire sauntered up to the counter. "Usual." He said gruffly as he flipped his duster out and sat on a barstool. The patrons nearest to him, a Gmulek demon and a rather fat fledgling got up and moved away. Spike laughed softly. Soul or no soul, he still had it.
Willy set the glass of blood and vodka in front of Spike and stepped back. He knew better than to ask Spike to pay upfront. Still, he couldn't help but hope the vampire wouldn't run up a big tab tonight. Spike paid his bar bill irregularly at best. Plus, he tended to pick fights more often when he had been drinking heavily. In the past two years, Willy had replaced most of the glassware at the Alibi because of the brawls started by the peroxided menace. Only the Slayer had trashed the place more often. And, she didn't seem inclined to pay for the repairs either.
"I got a proposition for you, mate." Spike said once he'd downed half the glass.
"What?" Willy said nervously.
"Slayer says I have to get a job. She thinks you could use a bouncer. So," the vampire paused and grinned," I figure you make a big show of telling me that I'm irresponsible and would frighten away your best customers. She'll over hear you. And I'm off the hook."
"Um." Willy said.
"I know, you're wondering what's in it for you." Spike shook his head with mock disappointment. "What is the world coming to when one man won't do a simple favor for another without thought of personal gain."
The vampire knocked back the remainder of his drink. "Hmm, what compensation can I offer for your acting skills." He reached into his pocket and took out a scrap of paper. Willy's heart raced when the barman recognized the columns of numbers.
Spike grinned. "Let's say that I pay 25% of my tab if you don't hire me."
"Uh, Spike." the barman stuttered.
"If you make it a really convincing show of your utter unwillingness to even consider hiring me, I'll make it 30%. Now that would be." The vampire bent his white blond head over the slip and began calculating.
"Er..."
Spike looked up in annoyance. He really *wasn't* good at maths and all Willy's hemming and hawing was breaking his concentration. "What is it?"
Willy pointed. The vampire turned to see a very pissed off Buffy standing behind him. "I think he's trying to tell you that I've been standing behind you for the past five minutes."
"Bollocks!"
Buffy gave Willy a look that she hoped conveyed her regret about what she was about to say. "Spike starts night after next. The Alibi's heaviest hours are 9:00 PM to midnight, but you'll want someone on hand until closing. So, we'll say nine to three AM Tuesday through Saturday. $13 an hour is fair. And one meal or a pint of blood on the house. No booze on the clock of course. And he won't need medical, social security, or retirement."
Willy and Spike both stared at her in dismay. She gave them her sunniest smile.
"Oh, and one more thing. Spike'll need something that identifies him as the bouncer. He's caused enough havoc in this place that people will think he's just being his usual annoying self." Buffy thought for a moment. "How about a t-shirt that says 'Security' on the front and back. Actually, I advise five of them. Spike's not great about laundry." Buffy shuddered delicately. "You get the shirts and take the cost out of his first paycheck. And, Willy, deduct his bar bill too. Say a fifth now; the rest in the next four paychecks."
When Willy thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea. Even if the vampire only lasted a few nights, he'd have recouped some of the tab. For Spike's sake, he made a show of nodding with great reluctance. But when the bleached vampire turned away in disgust, Willy winked at Buffy. She winked back.
Spike had a job.
***
"Dis job blows," the girl complained.
The man beside her grunted in agreement, but his gaze never wavered.
"We kin afford ta be picky, y'know," she continued.
He didn't respond. His finger was already tightening on the trigger.
Her next comment was lost in the crack of the rifle, but neither seemed to care. They were moving swiftly now, down from the rock ledge and onto the cracked surface of the former lakebed. Salt crunched noisily underfoot, but stealth was no longer of concern.
The body was still, sprawled awkwardly with a sizable puddle expanding from the head.
The girl resumed her litany of complaints as she grabbed a leg and started pulling the body towards what had once been the shore. The man shook his head, amused. Venting was just Bella's way of relaxing as a job came to an end. Personally, he wouldn't start to unwind until they were counting the money.
She stopped and glared at him. "Are ya fixin' ta stand der gapin' r'what?"
"Sorry, cher." He took the other leg and together they hauled the body to the waiting grave. Before the body was dumped in, Rafe knelt and used his machete to sever the head. He lobbed it to Bella who deftly caught it in a 2-gallon Ziploc bag. She pulled the little purple zipper to seal the bag and then tossed it aside. Together, they had the body buried in a few minutes but Bella groused the entire time. "Three days a waitin' out here in de middle a nowhere. Ah wus 'bout ta die uh boredom. 'N' all he wants is de head? What's he gonna do wid it?"
He ignored this particular complaint. Bella knew it was easier this way. The head would go in a cooler of dry ice so it wouldn't rot during the long drive to Matamoros where his client's majordomo waited to confirm the kill. As to what man's boss would do with the grisly thing afterwards, he'd rather not know. The client was Anselmo Molinero Sanz, a prosperous rancher with an odd hobby -collecting and auctioning off occult objects. It didn't pay to know much more about him. And Rafe was all about getting paid. So long as the bounty was paid in unmarked non-sequential American greenbacks, he'd never even think about this job again.
Bella was another story. When it came to bounty-hunting, she cared more about the excitement than the money. Her pretty brown face wore a pout as they walked away from the grave.
Rafael Metoyer could stalk and trap any living creature without an ounce of guilt getting in his way. But he hated disappointing his little sister.
"Next 'un won't be so borin' dawlin," he promised. "We're headin' ta da Hellmouth."
*** Spike protested for an entire day. But, thanks to Dawn, Buffy had a strong immunity to temper tantrums. Eventually, Spike comforted himself with the fact that at least he didn't have to wear a soddin' uniform like Buffy's DMP outfit.
It turned out that Willy had a cousin, Fat Eddie who owned a silk-screening business. In exchange for a keg of beer, he made up five shirts. To Willy and Buffy's consternation, Fat Eddie let Spike pick the design. The vampire wouldn't even tell them what it was. Buffy understood why when she picked the shirts up the next afternoon.
The shirts were form-fitting Ts with the words "Security" printed across the front and "Willy's Alibi" on the back. The lettering was in a font that looked like dripping blood. Two of the shirts were black and two were heather gray, both with bright red lettering. The fifth was bright red with black lettering.
Buffy told Spike he could wear his black jeans with the shirts. Willow reminded her that Spike still hadn't gotten the hang of the washing machine, so Buffy offered to take him shopping for two more pairs of jeans.
As they entered the mall, Buffy felt herself begin to relax. This was her favorite public place in Sunnydale. The brightly lit stores and food court soothed her the way lavender essential oil and the Lite Jazz station pacified the harried soccer moms she saw at the drive-through window at the DMP. By the time they passed the Kremie Kone stand, she was so calm that even the thought of more Spike-related charges on her credit card didn't spoil her mood.
It was weird to think that the last time she'd been here with Spike, he, Dru, and Angelus had been trying to destroy the world by unleashing the Judge, a demon whose touch burned the souls right out of humans. Now the blond vampire had a soul himself and he was sworn to be on his best behavior.
Buffy didn't put much stock in Spike's promises, but he did put out his cigarette at the mall entrance when she pointed at the little sign. And he wasn't snarling at the perfume sample ladies or the frat boys collecting change for MS. Nor was he sneaking anything into the capacious pockets of his duster. She supposed that he was really making an effort to behave.
Still, it was strange how most sales clerks reacted when they entered a shop.
No one greeted them or asked if they wanted to save 10 percent off their purchases today by applying for a store charge card.
In fact, quite a few employees suddenly decided to do inventory or take a coffee break when they entered a store.
After a clerk at the Gap turned green at the sight of Spike, Buffy felt enough of a pattern has been established to warrant a few answers. "Is there something you want to tell me?" she gritted out while smiling at the trembling girl.
Spike shrugged and sauntered out. She followed him, berating herself for thinking that a shopping expedition or any activity with the platinum blond nuisance could be simple and easy.
To his credit, Spike currently wasn't doing anything more outrageous than rifling through a stack of jeans at the back of the Levi's store. He pulled down a pair, stared at the tag and casually threw it back on the shelf. It slid off and fell to the floor. Seconds later, another pair joined it. Soon there was a little pile around his Docs.
Normally, that sort of wanton destruction of a display would have merited a not-so-subtle offer of assistance. Instead, a gaggle of teenage clerks stood by the front counter and watched nervously as Spike yanked pair after pair of black denims from the shelves. From their behavior, it was obvious that they wouldn't have approached if Buffy and Spike had started walking out the door with armfuls of merchandise.
"You've been in here before," she half-whispered.
"Yeah." The vampire made a half-hearted attempt to refold a pair of jeans and then tossed them atop the rumpled pile. "Once. A while back."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Do you know how I know?"
Spike raised a dark eyebrow. "You were following me?"
"No!" she said scornfully. "It's pretty obvious that you made a big impression on the employees."
"Really?" he grinned and shot a particularly devilishly scowl at the terrified clerks. They all gasped a little, a sound that brought a scrawny middle aged man with a comb-over out of an office behind the front counter. He stopped glaring when one of the clerks pointed toward Buffy and Spike. The man stared as if in shock and then angrily said something to the teens that sent them scattering. Each found a separate display area in the store -as far from Spike as possible it seemed - and then pretended to be busy straightening piles of clothing.
Buffy couldn't stand it. "Spike, what happened when you were here before?"
"Manager's a big poof." He turned and pointed at the man, who blanched and sidled closer to his little office.
"What do you mean?"
Another shrug, this one made her want to take a swing at his white blond head. "He kept following me. Then he pestered me in the dressing room." He pulled yet another pair of jeans off the shelf.
Buffy looked aghast. "What did he do?"
"Kept knocking on the door and asking if I was okay." The vampire muttered as he threw the jeans back in favor of a tighter pair.
"That's his job, Spike." She breathed with relief. The manager looked so much like her third grade Sunday School teacher that she hated to think he was a craven sex offender. The poor man really looked distressed every time he glanced their way.
"Spike, what did you do when the manager knocked on the door."
"Don't remember, luv. It was last year."
That made Buffy feel a little better. With the chip in, Spike couldn't have done but so much mayhem. "Look, just pick a couple pairs of jeans out and try them on before we give the manager a stroke. And remember to use a cubicle with a door so no one notices that you don't have a reflection."
As she watched him walk into the dressing room, Buffy hoped Spike was wearing underwear.
***
Dawn was excited about Spike's first night at work. She babbled through dinner about her own new job at the local Jamba Juice. Spike didn't bother to tell her that door security was a far cry from whipping up fruit juice concoctions. Truth was, he was grateful for the distraction.
Spike hadn't held a job in well over a century. Not since the evening when he let a pretty young woman bite him on the neck in a filthy London alley and then failed to show up at his brother's accounting firm the next day. The vampire supposed that long-ago business of knocking off all those Slayers-in-waiting in exchange for Freya's necklace could be considered a job of sorts. But it had been so much fun, tramping across war-torn Europe with Dru to hunt those little girls, each one more luscious than the next. He wouldn't have done it just for the necklace, let alone money.
Bouncing at Willy's was all about money, he thought morosely.
"Eight fifteen, Spike." Buffy stood up. "Time for us to go."
"Us?" *Was she coming, too?* He curled his lip in feigned disgust. "You're not going to sit at Willy's all night watching me."
Buffy laughed. "Hardly. I've got patrol. But I am going to make sure that you get there tonight. And on time."
Spike tossed down the dregs of blood in his cup before placing it in the sink. The vampire never cleared his own place, but tonight he was willing to do anything to stall. He slid into his duster and hugged Dawn goodbye. The teen was suddenly all trembly worrying that Spike might get hurt. "I'll be fine, Little Bit! I'm hoping some dumb git will take a swing at me."
"Good luck Spike." Willow said shyly.
"Thanks, Red."
Willow patted him on the back and for a crazy moment, Spike almost hugged her, too.
"Come on, Spike." Buffy looked at her watch. "If you aren't on time, Willy gets to dock your pay. You don't want that"
To his annoyance, Spike didn't want that. "I'm a bleedin' wage slave." He muttered as he walked out into the night.
***
The first hour was agonizingly slow.
Being undead there wasn't an income tax withholding forms or anything of that sort to fill out, but Willy seemed determined to give his new employee an orientation. To Spike's annoyance, the bartender made a big show out of introducing him to the only other employee, Puddy the dishwasher and pointing out various "amenities."
"You can hang up your coat in here." Willy indicated a dilapidated locker. The door was adorned with a little brass rectangle labeled "Frank". Willy pulled at it until the nameplate hung by one corner. "Sorry, " he muttered. "I'll get a screwdriver." The vampire curled his lip in disgust and ripped the name plate off. He stared at it for a moment, envying "Frank" who'd had the sense to get away from Willy's. "Uh, do you want that Spike," Willy ventured.
"No." Spike tossed the little bit of brass over his shoulder. It narrowly missed Puddy. Then he hung his duster up carefully.
Spike wasn't sure that he had ever been in the Alibi without a drink before. The place was even more boring than usual without alcohol and the possibility of starting a fine brawl at the nights' end. He began chain- smoking to combat the mind-numbing effects of employment.
Human or demon, Willy's core clientele tended to be sluggish. The majority quietly paid for their intoxicant of choice and sat nursing it in the dark booths. Less antisocial patrons might sit at the bar, trying to strike up a chat and occasionally chancing the limited menu of deep fried fare. Ill- advised behavior, but hardly Spike's worry. Evidently, the rowdier crowd he was being paid to watch out for didn't materialize until late.
It was during his first break that Spike wished that he had thought to ask Clem to stop by. They might have shared a plate of wings, even played a hand of poker. Instead, he sat at the bar, staring at a rapidly cooling mug of blood and trying to ignore an old man who was insisting that he had been abducted by aliens in 1936. Spike began to wonder if having a soul meant that he couldn't plot revenge against the Slayer for getting him this job.
Around ten-fifteen, a quartet of vampire bikers trooped in. They gave Spike dirty looks as they ordered blood with Stroh's chasers. He grinned back invitingly, but was disappointed when they drank quickly and left.
At five to one, he heard a bottle break and the high, thin sound that passed for a battle roar among Nusklin demons. Finally! Spike slid off the stool and headed into the back of the bar.
*** Buffy strolled by Willy's at quarter to three. Spike was perched on his stool in the doorway. He had a black eye and was grinning broadly.
"Slayer!" he greeted her with delight. "If I had known that working was so much fun, I would have done this weeks ago," the vampire crowed. "I thrashed two vampires and a Nusklin demon tonight. I should be paying Willy."
The petite blonde rolled her eyes. "There's more to door security than beating up unruly patrons."
"Who said they were unruly?" Spike smirked.
"Really, Spike." Buffy used her I'm-being-serious voice. "You gotta call cabs for the humans who drink too much. Make sure the tipsy girl demons really want to go home with the horny guy demons. That sorta thing."
The vampire looked crestfallen. Buffy surprised herself by reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. "Hey, you survived your first night on the job."
"You stopped by to check up on me." He said accusingly.
"Nope."
"What are you doing here, then?"
"I thought I'd walk you home," she said softly.
Spike blinked.
"You get off in ten minutes. I'll be back in fifteen, okay. Just gonna patrol the block one more time." The vampire nodded. "Great." Buffy smiled, before she walked away. Before she turned the corner, she paused. "Spike?"
"Yeah, Slayer?"
"I'm. proud of you."
Spike climbed down from the stool and stared after her. The night just kept getting better and better. Maybe having a job wasn't so bad after all.
Timing: AU S7
Pairings: Buffy/Spike (also Xander/Anya)
Summary: Spike gets a job. Buffy runs afoul of a brother-sister team of demon bounty hunters. (This is the third story in a series of four. Read "Look What Love Gave Us" and "Unmoved -the Fic" first.)
Rating/Warnings: R. Violence, language, rape flashback, torture flashback, and M/F sexuality.
Spoilers: None if you've seen S6. References to "FFL", "Lovers' Walk", the trade novel "Pretty Maids All in a Row", and my fanfics "Relating to a Psychopath", "Look What Love Gave Us" and "Unmoved -the Fic"
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.
Feedback: Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com
***
Chapter 2
"Bugger this." Spike threw down his cigarette butt and stalked away. He got about five steps before a hand landed on the collar of his duster and hauled him back.
"Hey, watch the leather." He complained as Buffy threw him to the ground.
"Spike, I'm going to count to three." She held up three fingers. "And when I'm done, you're gonna be inside the Alibi asking Willy for a job."
"I'll starve first." The bleached vampire said with as much dignity as he could muster lying on his back in the alley with the Slayer standing over him.
"No, you won't." Buffy hissed. "Because that would upset Dawn. If she's upset, she might not do well on the SATs. And, if she gets anything below a 1200, I may have to dust you."
"Really," Spike smirked. "Cause that might upset the Little Bit, too." He picked himself up. "So, why don't we just go home now and I'll even help her with studying the maths section. I know that's not your strong suit."
Buffy protested. "I did perfectly well on both sections of the SATs. I didn't *have* to go to U of Sunnydale, you know. I could have gone to Berkeley or BU. And I would have done great in college if it wasn't for all the distractions of Slaying -many of which you orchestrated, I might add. Hey!" The petite blonde's eyes narrowed. "You're doing it now."
"Doing what?" Spike said and gave her a look of utter innocence.
"You're distracting me. Get your ass in the bar before I kick it in there."
Ah well, it was worth a shot, Spike thought as he pushed open the door to Willy's Alibi. His preternatural eyes adjusted instantly to the bar's dark and smoky interior. Spotting Willy polishing glasses, the vampire sauntered up to the counter. "Usual." He said gruffly as he flipped his duster out and sat on a barstool. The patrons nearest to him, a Gmulek demon and a rather fat fledgling got up and moved away. Spike laughed softly. Soul or no soul, he still had it.
Willy set the glass of blood and vodka in front of Spike and stepped back. He knew better than to ask Spike to pay upfront. Still, he couldn't help but hope the vampire wouldn't run up a big tab tonight. Spike paid his bar bill irregularly at best. Plus, he tended to pick fights more often when he had been drinking heavily. In the past two years, Willy had replaced most of the glassware at the Alibi because of the brawls started by the peroxided menace. Only the Slayer had trashed the place more often. And, she didn't seem inclined to pay for the repairs either.
"I got a proposition for you, mate." Spike said once he'd downed half the glass.
"What?" Willy said nervously.
"Slayer says I have to get a job. She thinks you could use a bouncer. So," the vampire paused and grinned," I figure you make a big show of telling me that I'm irresponsible and would frighten away your best customers. She'll over hear you. And I'm off the hook."
"Um." Willy said.
"I know, you're wondering what's in it for you." Spike shook his head with mock disappointment. "What is the world coming to when one man won't do a simple favor for another without thought of personal gain."
The vampire knocked back the remainder of his drink. "Hmm, what compensation can I offer for your acting skills." He reached into his pocket and took out a scrap of paper. Willy's heart raced when the barman recognized the columns of numbers.
Spike grinned. "Let's say that I pay 25% of my tab if you don't hire me."
"Uh, Spike." the barman stuttered.
"If you make it a really convincing show of your utter unwillingness to even consider hiring me, I'll make it 30%. Now that would be." The vampire bent his white blond head over the slip and began calculating.
"Er..."
Spike looked up in annoyance. He really *wasn't* good at maths and all Willy's hemming and hawing was breaking his concentration. "What is it?"
Willy pointed. The vampire turned to see a very pissed off Buffy standing behind him. "I think he's trying to tell you that I've been standing behind you for the past five minutes."
"Bollocks!"
Buffy gave Willy a look that she hoped conveyed her regret about what she was about to say. "Spike starts night after next. The Alibi's heaviest hours are 9:00 PM to midnight, but you'll want someone on hand until closing. So, we'll say nine to three AM Tuesday through Saturday. $13 an hour is fair. And one meal or a pint of blood on the house. No booze on the clock of course. And he won't need medical, social security, or retirement."
Willy and Spike both stared at her in dismay. She gave them her sunniest smile.
"Oh, and one more thing. Spike'll need something that identifies him as the bouncer. He's caused enough havoc in this place that people will think he's just being his usual annoying self." Buffy thought for a moment. "How about a t-shirt that says 'Security' on the front and back. Actually, I advise five of them. Spike's not great about laundry." Buffy shuddered delicately. "You get the shirts and take the cost out of his first paycheck. And, Willy, deduct his bar bill too. Say a fifth now; the rest in the next four paychecks."
When Willy thought about it, it wasn't such a bad idea. Even if the vampire only lasted a few nights, he'd have recouped some of the tab. For Spike's sake, he made a show of nodding with great reluctance. But when the bleached vampire turned away in disgust, Willy winked at Buffy. She winked back.
Spike had a job.
***
"Dis job blows," the girl complained.
The man beside her grunted in agreement, but his gaze never wavered.
"We kin afford ta be picky, y'know," she continued.
He didn't respond. His finger was already tightening on the trigger.
Her next comment was lost in the crack of the rifle, but neither seemed to care. They were moving swiftly now, down from the rock ledge and onto the cracked surface of the former lakebed. Salt crunched noisily underfoot, but stealth was no longer of concern.
The body was still, sprawled awkwardly with a sizable puddle expanding from the head.
The girl resumed her litany of complaints as she grabbed a leg and started pulling the body towards what had once been the shore. The man shook his head, amused. Venting was just Bella's way of relaxing as a job came to an end. Personally, he wouldn't start to unwind until they were counting the money.
She stopped and glared at him. "Are ya fixin' ta stand der gapin' r'what?"
"Sorry, cher." He took the other leg and together they hauled the body to the waiting grave. Before the body was dumped in, Rafe knelt and used his machete to sever the head. He lobbed it to Bella who deftly caught it in a 2-gallon Ziploc bag. She pulled the little purple zipper to seal the bag and then tossed it aside. Together, they had the body buried in a few minutes but Bella groused the entire time. "Three days a waitin' out here in de middle a nowhere. Ah wus 'bout ta die uh boredom. 'N' all he wants is de head? What's he gonna do wid it?"
He ignored this particular complaint. Bella knew it was easier this way. The head would go in a cooler of dry ice so it wouldn't rot during the long drive to Matamoros where his client's majordomo waited to confirm the kill. As to what man's boss would do with the grisly thing afterwards, he'd rather not know. The client was Anselmo Molinero Sanz, a prosperous rancher with an odd hobby -collecting and auctioning off occult objects. It didn't pay to know much more about him. And Rafe was all about getting paid. So long as the bounty was paid in unmarked non-sequential American greenbacks, he'd never even think about this job again.
Bella was another story. When it came to bounty-hunting, she cared more about the excitement than the money. Her pretty brown face wore a pout as they walked away from the grave.
Rafael Metoyer could stalk and trap any living creature without an ounce of guilt getting in his way. But he hated disappointing his little sister.
"Next 'un won't be so borin' dawlin," he promised. "We're headin' ta da Hellmouth."
*** Spike protested for an entire day. But, thanks to Dawn, Buffy had a strong immunity to temper tantrums. Eventually, Spike comforted himself with the fact that at least he didn't have to wear a soddin' uniform like Buffy's DMP outfit.
It turned out that Willy had a cousin, Fat Eddie who owned a silk-screening business. In exchange for a keg of beer, he made up five shirts. To Willy and Buffy's consternation, Fat Eddie let Spike pick the design. The vampire wouldn't even tell them what it was. Buffy understood why when she picked the shirts up the next afternoon.
The shirts were form-fitting Ts with the words "Security" printed across the front and "Willy's Alibi" on the back. The lettering was in a font that looked like dripping blood. Two of the shirts were black and two were heather gray, both with bright red lettering. The fifth was bright red with black lettering.
Buffy told Spike he could wear his black jeans with the shirts. Willow reminded her that Spike still hadn't gotten the hang of the washing machine, so Buffy offered to take him shopping for two more pairs of jeans.
As they entered the mall, Buffy felt herself begin to relax. This was her favorite public place in Sunnydale. The brightly lit stores and food court soothed her the way lavender essential oil and the Lite Jazz station pacified the harried soccer moms she saw at the drive-through window at the DMP. By the time they passed the Kremie Kone stand, she was so calm that even the thought of more Spike-related charges on her credit card didn't spoil her mood.
It was weird to think that the last time she'd been here with Spike, he, Dru, and Angelus had been trying to destroy the world by unleashing the Judge, a demon whose touch burned the souls right out of humans. Now the blond vampire had a soul himself and he was sworn to be on his best behavior.
Buffy didn't put much stock in Spike's promises, but he did put out his cigarette at the mall entrance when she pointed at the little sign. And he wasn't snarling at the perfume sample ladies or the frat boys collecting change for MS. Nor was he sneaking anything into the capacious pockets of his duster. She supposed that he was really making an effort to behave.
Still, it was strange how most sales clerks reacted when they entered a shop.
No one greeted them or asked if they wanted to save 10 percent off their purchases today by applying for a store charge card.
In fact, quite a few employees suddenly decided to do inventory or take a coffee break when they entered a store.
After a clerk at the Gap turned green at the sight of Spike, Buffy felt enough of a pattern has been established to warrant a few answers. "Is there something you want to tell me?" she gritted out while smiling at the trembling girl.
Spike shrugged and sauntered out. She followed him, berating herself for thinking that a shopping expedition or any activity with the platinum blond nuisance could be simple and easy.
To his credit, Spike currently wasn't doing anything more outrageous than rifling through a stack of jeans at the back of the Levi's store. He pulled down a pair, stared at the tag and casually threw it back on the shelf. It slid off and fell to the floor. Seconds later, another pair joined it. Soon there was a little pile around his Docs.
Normally, that sort of wanton destruction of a display would have merited a not-so-subtle offer of assistance. Instead, a gaggle of teenage clerks stood by the front counter and watched nervously as Spike yanked pair after pair of black denims from the shelves. From their behavior, it was obvious that they wouldn't have approached if Buffy and Spike had started walking out the door with armfuls of merchandise.
"You've been in here before," she half-whispered.
"Yeah." The vampire made a half-hearted attempt to refold a pair of jeans and then tossed them atop the rumpled pile. "Once. A while back."
Buffy took a deep breath. "Do you know how I know?"
Spike raised a dark eyebrow. "You were following me?"
"No!" she said scornfully. "It's pretty obvious that you made a big impression on the employees."
"Really?" he grinned and shot a particularly devilishly scowl at the terrified clerks. They all gasped a little, a sound that brought a scrawny middle aged man with a comb-over out of an office behind the front counter. He stopped glaring when one of the clerks pointed toward Buffy and Spike. The man stared as if in shock and then angrily said something to the teens that sent them scattering. Each found a separate display area in the store -as far from Spike as possible it seemed - and then pretended to be busy straightening piles of clothing.
Buffy couldn't stand it. "Spike, what happened when you were here before?"
"Manager's a big poof." He turned and pointed at the man, who blanched and sidled closer to his little office.
"What do you mean?"
Another shrug, this one made her want to take a swing at his white blond head. "He kept following me. Then he pestered me in the dressing room." He pulled yet another pair of jeans off the shelf.
Buffy looked aghast. "What did he do?"
"Kept knocking on the door and asking if I was okay." The vampire muttered as he threw the jeans back in favor of a tighter pair.
"That's his job, Spike." She breathed with relief. The manager looked so much like her third grade Sunday School teacher that she hated to think he was a craven sex offender. The poor man really looked distressed every time he glanced their way.
"Spike, what did you do when the manager knocked on the door."
"Don't remember, luv. It was last year."
That made Buffy feel a little better. With the chip in, Spike couldn't have done but so much mayhem. "Look, just pick a couple pairs of jeans out and try them on before we give the manager a stroke. And remember to use a cubicle with a door so no one notices that you don't have a reflection."
As she watched him walk into the dressing room, Buffy hoped Spike was wearing underwear.
***
Dawn was excited about Spike's first night at work. She babbled through dinner about her own new job at the local Jamba Juice. Spike didn't bother to tell her that door security was a far cry from whipping up fruit juice concoctions. Truth was, he was grateful for the distraction.
Spike hadn't held a job in well over a century. Not since the evening when he let a pretty young woman bite him on the neck in a filthy London alley and then failed to show up at his brother's accounting firm the next day. The vampire supposed that long-ago business of knocking off all those Slayers-in-waiting in exchange for Freya's necklace could be considered a job of sorts. But it had been so much fun, tramping across war-torn Europe with Dru to hunt those little girls, each one more luscious than the next. He wouldn't have done it just for the necklace, let alone money.
Bouncing at Willy's was all about money, he thought morosely.
"Eight fifteen, Spike." Buffy stood up. "Time for us to go."
"Us?" *Was she coming, too?* He curled his lip in feigned disgust. "You're not going to sit at Willy's all night watching me."
Buffy laughed. "Hardly. I've got patrol. But I am going to make sure that you get there tonight. And on time."
Spike tossed down the dregs of blood in his cup before placing it in the sink. The vampire never cleared his own place, but tonight he was willing to do anything to stall. He slid into his duster and hugged Dawn goodbye. The teen was suddenly all trembly worrying that Spike might get hurt. "I'll be fine, Little Bit! I'm hoping some dumb git will take a swing at me."
"Good luck Spike." Willow said shyly.
"Thanks, Red."
Willow patted him on the back and for a crazy moment, Spike almost hugged her, too.
"Come on, Spike." Buffy looked at her watch. "If you aren't on time, Willy gets to dock your pay. You don't want that"
To his annoyance, Spike didn't want that. "I'm a bleedin' wage slave." He muttered as he walked out into the night.
***
The first hour was agonizingly slow.
Being undead there wasn't an income tax withholding forms or anything of that sort to fill out, but Willy seemed determined to give his new employee an orientation. To Spike's annoyance, the bartender made a big show out of introducing him to the only other employee, Puddy the dishwasher and pointing out various "amenities."
"You can hang up your coat in here." Willy indicated a dilapidated locker. The door was adorned with a little brass rectangle labeled "Frank". Willy pulled at it until the nameplate hung by one corner. "Sorry, " he muttered. "I'll get a screwdriver." The vampire curled his lip in disgust and ripped the name plate off. He stared at it for a moment, envying "Frank" who'd had the sense to get away from Willy's. "Uh, do you want that Spike," Willy ventured.
"No." Spike tossed the little bit of brass over his shoulder. It narrowly missed Puddy. Then he hung his duster up carefully.
Spike wasn't sure that he had ever been in the Alibi without a drink before. The place was even more boring than usual without alcohol and the possibility of starting a fine brawl at the nights' end. He began chain- smoking to combat the mind-numbing effects of employment.
Human or demon, Willy's core clientele tended to be sluggish. The majority quietly paid for their intoxicant of choice and sat nursing it in the dark booths. Less antisocial patrons might sit at the bar, trying to strike up a chat and occasionally chancing the limited menu of deep fried fare. Ill- advised behavior, but hardly Spike's worry. Evidently, the rowdier crowd he was being paid to watch out for didn't materialize until late.
It was during his first break that Spike wished that he had thought to ask Clem to stop by. They might have shared a plate of wings, even played a hand of poker. Instead, he sat at the bar, staring at a rapidly cooling mug of blood and trying to ignore an old man who was insisting that he had been abducted by aliens in 1936. Spike began to wonder if having a soul meant that he couldn't plot revenge against the Slayer for getting him this job.
Around ten-fifteen, a quartet of vampire bikers trooped in. They gave Spike dirty looks as they ordered blood with Stroh's chasers. He grinned back invitingly, but was disappointed when they drank quickly and left.
At five to one, he heard a bottle break and the high, thin sound that passed for a battle roar among Nusklin demons. Finally! Spike slid off the stool and headed into the back of the bar.
*** Buffy strolled by Willy's at quarter to three. Spike was perched on his stool in the doorway. He had a black eye and was grinning broadly.
"Slayer!" he greeted her with delight. "If I had known that working was so much fun, I would have done this weeks ago," the vampire crowed. "I thrashed two vampires and a Nusklin demon tonight. I should be paying Willy."
The petite blonde rolled her eyes. "There's more to door security than beating up unruly patrons."
"Who said they were unruly?" Spike smirked.
"Really, Spike." Buffy used her I'm-being-serious voice. "You gotta call cabs for the humans who drink too much. Make sure the tipsy girl demons really want to go home with the horny guy demons. That sorta thing."
The vampire looked crestfallen. Buffy surprised herself by reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. "Hey, you survived your first night on the job."
"You stopped by to check up on me." He said accusingly.
"Nope."
"What are you doing here, then?"
"I thought I'd walk you home," she said softly.
Spike blinked.
"You get off in ten minutes. I'll be back in fifteen, okay. Just gonna patrol the block one more time." The vampire nodded. "Great." Buffy smiled, before she walked away. Before she turned the corner, she paused. "Spike?"
"Yeah, Slayer?"
"I'm. proud of you."
Spike climbed down from the stool and stared after her. The night just kept getting better and better. Maybe having a job wasn't so bad after all.