"Slayerrrr," Spike half purred, half groaned with his eyes closed. "Gonna kill youuu..."
Opening his eyes slowly, the first thing he saw was a white-tiled ceiling above him. Turning his eyes from side to side revealed just more tiles. 'What the hell?' He was quite sure it couldn't be the other possible location.
Raising his head slowly brought a sliding glass door to his vision. And beyond that there was a corridor with an identical glass door on the opposite side. Scrambling to his feet, he quickly found out he was inside a 10' x 10' x 10' feet tiled cell where the glass doors formed one of the walls. He staggered to the glass wall and laid his flat palms on it only to receive a considerable electric shock for his effort.
The shock jolted him back to his senses, so the next thing he saw was a long row of identical cells to his own, each holding a single demon or some other supernatural creature. He could only assume that his side of the corridor was the same. A man in a white lab coat walked past his cell without paying any attention to him.
'Well, this can't be good.'
Five minutes later Spike was pacing back and forth in front of the glass door. He kept slamming his fist on it on regular intervals, always receiving an electrical shock in return. It only managed to increase his already considerable pissed-off state. After ten more silent passes, he raised his fist again but then hesitated and slowly lowered it.
Almost immediately a panel slid aside in the ceiling and a bag of blood dropped to the floor next to him. He was close to starving, so the idea of conditioning never popped into his mind as he vamped out and brought the plastic bag to his mouth. He was just about to sink his teeth into it when an urgent voice interrupted him.
"Don't drink it. It's drugged."
He looked at the bag in his hand for a long time. Eventually he threw it into a corner and discarded his vampiric visage. "Uh-huh. And who are you, mate?"
"I'm a rat," came a slightly hysterical male voice from somewhere close to him, judging by the echoes. "A lab rat, just like the others. They're gonna kill us, you know."
Trying to see his conversation partner without touching the glass proved to be impossible. "And how are they gonna do that?"
"Well, they starve you. And when you're ready to bite your own arm, they shoot out one of those packets. You drink, and the next thing you're gone. And that's when they do the experiments."
"And 'they' are?" Spike prompted, sliding his hands along the walls, looking for anything to help him get out of there. "The government? Nazis? A major cosmetics company?"
"Who cares?" The voice sounded more than a little unhinged now. "All I know is, one minute I'm running from the Slayer and the next thing I'm here."
"The Slayer!" Spike yelled and headbutted the wall. "I knew it! She set me up, got funding too. I bet the fucking Council is in on this as well." He slammed his palms against the glass door, welcoming the pain. "Fine. I'll tear her apart – her and those fucking ponces in London. I'll make her watch all her friends die. I'll pluck her fucking pet demon's eyes out and feast on them. I'll..."
Sitting on opposite sides of the bed, Xander and Anya dressed in awkward silence. Without really meaning to, they had fallen asleep side-by-side after having exhausted each other with some very enthusiastic behind-putting.
"Sooo...," Anya drawled, picking up her shoes. "I'm over you now," she continued, trying to sound firm. Instead, it came out almost like a plea.
"Ummm... Ok." Xander replied sensibly.
"Ok!?" Anya almost screeched, turning her head around to see the helpless look on Xander's face. Gritting her teeth, she stood up and headed for the door.
"Anya, wait!" Xander called after her and, to his (and Anya's) surprise, she stopped with her hand on the doorhandle. He took a few hesitant steps towards her. "Listen, I'm sorry. I really can't say any of this fell into the realm of a bad thing."
"Really?" Anya's voice was surprisingly gentle.
"If you want, you know, we could like... go out tonight."
"You mean like a date?" Anya asked hopefully, turning fully around. "Is that what this is? Are we dating?" She felt more vulnerable than she could remember being in ages.
A small smile caressed Xander's lips. "You know, Anya. There are definitely some date-like qualities at work here."
"Seriously?" Anya was hardly daring to breathe.
"Only if you want."
"I want."
"Great!" Xander grinned from ear to ear. A faint whisper of 'girlfriend' brushed his mind. "Look, I gotta go help Giles with the shop. Then I have a shift at the college bar. Meet me there?"
"Yes!" Anya beamed and started giggling. "I got a date." Then she started bouncing up and down in excitement. "We're going on a date."
"Yes, Anya," Xander smiled, his heart melting a little. "We are going on a date."
Riley was listening with only half an ear to Forrest's enthusiastic monologue about unlocking the mysteries of young, nubile and exiting women. The large stack of ungraded papers in front of him was taking most of his concentration.
"Think any hotties are gonna show?" Forrest nudged his side with a wink. "'Cos the party'd be lame if we're lacking those." When his playful nudge failed to result in any reaction, he waved his hand in front of Riley's eyes. "Professor? You with me?"
"No," he snapped irritably and pushed the offending hand away. "I'm with this large pile of ungraded papers, due at three o'clock." It didn't help his mood any that he was more than a little hungry, and it appeared he wouldn't have time for anything resembling a real lunch – like his companion next to him was enthusiastically having.
"How are you gonna learn anyth... Oh! Check her out!"
With a roll of his eyes, Riley glanced briefly to where Forrest was pointing. Then his gaze returned to linger for a while on the blonde standing in front of the soda machine. "She's Buffy," he shrugged and returned to the task of grading papers.
"Oooh, she has a name!" Forrest beamed. At Riley's scoff, Forrest's grin widened. "So, what do you think of her?"
"I don't, really," he dismissed the notion.
"Methinks he doth protest too much," Forrest teased.
"Ok, she's all right, I guess," Riley sighed and laid down his pen. "But... I dunno, she's kinda... peculiar."
"Peculiar?"
"Yeah," Riley nodded as Buffy was unsuccessfully trying the stop the flow of yogurt from a dispenser, holding the broken lever in her hand. At that moment Graham sauntered over to their table with a full plate and sat down.
"Hey, Graham," Forrest greeted the newcomer. "What do you think of the blonde chick? Riley doesn't like her."
"I don't dislike her," Riley tried to set things straight to close the matter for good. "She just... She never feels like she's never really there. Yeah, there's definitely something off about her."
"Didn't she go with Parker Abrams for about 30 seconds?" Graham mused through a mouthful of food.
"And what a sign of good taste that is," Riley snorted. "Ok, I admit, she's easy on the eyes, but would you really wanna go out with her?"
As a perfect punchline to Riley's question, Buffy stumbled and approximately a quarter gallon of soda and yogurt spread all over the cafeteria floor.
"Hell, yes!" Forrest nodded. "I bet a lot of guys would like to get their hands on her... maybe chicks too. Hey, I'd buy that for a dollar."
The Initiative trio had just exited the cafeteria when Forrest nudged Riley's side and indicated with his finger in the direction of the main staircase.
"Hey, Parker!" he greeted the person in question who was coming down the stairs.
"Forrest. What's up man?" Parker returned the greeting.
"What's the scoop on Buffy Summers? Is she cool?" Forrest queried.
"Buffy?" Parker frowned. "Yeah, she's all right, I guess. I mean, kinda whiny and clingy. I mean, we got a little physical, well... fully physical, and then she's all over me, you know, like we were betrothed or something."
"No, but fun was had, yeah?" Forrest prompted further.
"Oh, yeah," Parker laughed. "The word is stamina. I mean, definitely a bunny in the sack, but later on, well... You know the difference between a freshman girl and a toilet seat? A toilet seat doesn't follow you around after you use it."
Almost on its own volition Riley's right fist connected with Parker's face, dropping him to the floor.
"I can't believe I did that," Riley shook his head in disbelief as he and his two comrades stepped outside the building.
"Welcome to the club," Graham nodded.
"Know how much trouble you could get into?" Forrest demanded. "If Parker reported you..."
"He won't," Graham cut him off. "He's too embarrassed."
"I hit him," Riley tried to get his head around the concept.
"What the hell for?" Forrest asked.
"He was just being so crude," Riley tried to justify his actions.
"Oh, please," Forrest snorted. "You've heard me say much grosser things than that."
"Yeah, most of those are about your own mother," Riley countered earning him a slap upside the head from Forrest. "What is it then?" he mused. He stopped in his tracks, making the other two stop as well. "I just didn't like hearing him talk about Buffy that way. I think that... Well, I guess I like her."
"You're kinda like a moron," Forrest was trying to keep his features smooth.
It took a while to penetrate, but then it hit Riley like a brick. "So, you... you knew that I had feelings for her?"
"Everybody knows, man," Graham practically groaned at the thickheadedness of his mate.
"'She's peculiar'?" Forrest mimicked. "Dead giveaway, buddy."
"I'm always the last to know?" Riley sighed.
"So, what you gonna do?" Forrest asked.
"Well," Riley drawled. "I guess I'm gonna go see a girl."
Willow was quite proud of the fact that the sudden knocking on the door didn't make her lose concentration and drop the four pool-ball-sized crystal spheres to the floor. The small pyramid stayed steadily in the air in front of her eyes, rotating slowly about its vertical axis and reflecting the sun's rays all over the room. She brought her hands slowly underneath them and only then let her connection to Air dissipate.
"Come in," she called after having stashed the balls into her nightstand. Of all the people who could have stood there in the doorway, the one who did wasn't even in the top-5.
"Riley," she greeted the tall TA. "Hi. What brings you here?"
"Hi, Willow," Riley nodded and tried to supplement it with a smile. It felt horribly forced. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Willow shook her head. "What's up?"
Riley grimaced. He would have liked nothing better than to slowly lead the conversation to his real reason for being there. Maybe even wait for Willow to catch a hint and bring the topic up herself. "Right to the point, I see," he sighed. He stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath. "I was thinking of asking out Buffy."
Willow frowned. Why was he talking to her? "She's not here," she pointed out helpfully.
"I know," Riley nodded, licking his lips nervously. "See, I don't know that much about her, but I'm interested in what she likes and, so far, well, the only thing I know she likes is you."
"Oh, yeah," Willow started brightly and started slowly shuffling closer to Buffy's bed. The bag containing Buffy's tools of the trade was open and half-visible under the Slayer's bed. "She likes me, alright. Yes, and I like her. We really like each other... not that we like like each other, you know." She tried to inconspicuously nudge the bag further under the bed. "So, what do you want me to do?"
"Just tell me something. Anything," Riley pleaded. "Here, let me help you with that." With that he crouched down and pushed the heavy gym bag fully under the bed without even looking. "Just something that'll start us talking. I'm thinking that 'How about them Broncos?' won't really cut it."
"Ok." Willow nodded and sat down on her bed. She scooted backwards until she was leaning against the headboard. She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it against her chest. Riley sat down eagerly on Buffy's bed. '"Into every generation, there is a chosen one. One girl in all the world." Hmmm, not a good idea. "She has died once, you know?" Probably not a great conversation piece. "Her first boyfriend was 270 years old." Best not mention that either...'
"Look, if you wanna tell me to go to hell, that's ok. I appreciate you wanting to protect your friend." Riley's quiet comment brought her out of her thoughts, and she realised he had taken her silence entirely the wrong way. He was already half-way to the door.
"She's still recovering from a thing that ended badly," Willow hazarded, gauging his reaction.
"Parker," Riley muttered almost inaudibly but Willow managed to catch it anyway. His tone told her volumes. "I'm sorry to hear that," he spoke up more loudly.
"She likes cheese," she offered, hoping her instincts were right.
"What?" Riley asked, turning around.
"Well, it's probably not the key to her heart, but Buffy... she likes cheese."
"That's a start," Riley nodded eagerly.
"She has a stuffed piggy named Mr Gordo. She loves Ice Capades, without the irony. And she is dragging me to this party tonight at Lowell House," she added almost like an afterthought.
"Oh, you're going!?" Riley exclaimed, his mood brightening instantly. "That's my house. I live there."
"Well, it'll give you a chance to interact, but don't get fresh, mister."
"Fresh? Don't even know if we like each other yet," Riley mused, mostly to himself and stood up. "I just feel that, well... hell, I don't think I've ever met anyone like Buffy before."
He paid no attention to the secretive smile on Willow's lips as he exited the room with relieved spring in his step.