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Giles opened the door, staring out at his nephew. His nephew smiled at him, still reeling a little. "Big fight at the Bronze, Giles." He said, starting to topple. Giles grabbed him, supporting him.
"You git." He sighed, dragging Spike to the couch where he dropped him. He stared at his snoring nephew and shook his head, walking back across the room.
When he woke up the boy was sitting at the table, holding his head. Giles sat down opposite him. "Hangover?" He asked.
"Less painful." Groaned Spike. "Who gave her nunchuks and such anyways, eh?"
Giles perked up a bit. "You faced a girl with nunchuks?" He asked. "That's. . . interesting."
"Painful is the word you're searching for." Growled Spike. "Now leave me be."
"No, I think not." Said Giles. "Who hit you? Was it Buffy Summers?"
"Yes." Said Spike, glancing at Giles in surprise.
"The girl's a regular little stormtrooper." Said Giles. "I'm supposed to reign her in. That's what the principal told me. Truthfully, I'd rather reign in everyone else. Now consider, she stands up for the underdogs in this school. She's tough, she's bad, and she's pretty. Whose side do you really want to be on?"
Spike scowled at Giles.
"This _is_ a graded question." Added Giles.
"Graded?"
"Right and wrong answer. You really want to join the freaks out there? Or you want to be part of a gang that includes her?"
"You're full of it." Sneered Spike, standing. "And I'm going to be late for school. Let's get out of here."
**
As Spike walked down the hall he noticed the students shrinking back from him, afraid. Although on one level it was kind of fun, on another level it made him cringe. What a bunch of pansies, afraid of him! Didn't they know real fear?
Well, of course they did. He wasn't just putting on an act. He had become the Big Bad. Everything that Angel had thought he was, Spike had become. Everything that Giles was afraid of, Spike had become. Every fear he'd ever encountered, he had become.
He saw Buffy Summers, and grinned.
He'd find out what she was afraid of soon enough.
"Oy, Summers!" He yelled. She whirled, facing him. He stalked closer.
"Good work getting the jump on me last night." He said, sneering. "We'll see how effective that is twice tonight, eh?"
"I said before, anytime, anyplace, Spike." She spat, then turned and ran off to class.
Spike left. He never had bothered with class very much at all. It was just a waste of his time.
That evening, before school had let out, he headed down for her place. Finding it was easy. He leaned against the tree in front, examining the quiet suburbia.
A twelve year old girl approached him, wrinkling her nose. "Are you here to fight Buffy?" She asked.
"Sure am." He said cheerfully. "What are you, her tackle dummy?"
The kid had the nerve to giggle. "I'm her sister, Dawn." She said seriously. "She's gonna kick your butt, you know."
He grinned. "Maybe I'll kick hers."
"Doesn't happen. She was gonna be in the Olympics, you know, till Mr. Merrick died."
"Aw, what a shame. Now she'll just be a high-school dropout." Mocked Spike. Dawn giggled some more.
"Dawn!" An older woman was scowling, watching them. "Come in here this minute!"
"S'alright." Said Spike, waving a hand jauntily. "I'm a friend of Buffy's."
She relaxed a little. "Oh, you must be Xander, then." She said.
"No, I'm Spike." He said, smiling. She approached him.
"Spike?" She asked. "I haven't heard that name before."
"I'm new." He clarified. "Crazy town you have here."
She sighed. "We're right on the end of the drug pipeline. It's blasted annoying, that's what it is."
Spike nodded sympathetically. "I bet." He said. He glanced around the neighborhood. "Do you usually have all those gang members on the corner?" He asked casually.
Buffy's mother looked both ways. "Dawn, go in the house right now." She said flatly.
There was a noise by the door, and then the door slammed shut. Trick was standing by the door, holding it closed. "No, no." He said. "Stay out here, Dawnie."
Buffy's mother looked at Spike, panic in her eyes, as she put two and two together and came up with five.
He looked back steadily. "Don't panic." He said flatly.
"Mom!" Buffy was running down the sidewalk. Trick walked towards Dawn, grinning. He had a knife in his hand.
"Stop right there." He said. Buffy stopped.
All around the gang members closed in, punks dressed in baggy pants. High school gang members. Kids.
Spike looked around.
"You ticked me off bad, Spike." Hissed Trick. "Now you and Summers are dog meat."
Spike didn't respond, staring at the little girl. She was staring back at him, and she mouthed something.
Reading lips wasn't his bag.
"Just say it, Bit." He snapped.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I said, you're a putz."
He glowered at her, ignoring Trick. "I'm a putz? Say, how would you like to be drop-kicked through your big window, there?" He pointed to the French windows on the side of her house. "Huh?"
Then he whirled, grabbing Trick, and yanked him headfirst into the tree.
Dawn grabbed her mother's hand, running for the French doors.
"You're gonna cut me, huh?!" Spike demanded angrily, slamming Trick's head against the tree. All around him the gang members closed in.
But Buffy was there, spinning and kicking and jumping and slashing. The gang members tried to escape, but Spike was there slamming his fist into faces and Buffy's foot found faces faster than any of them could move.
As the fury of the battle died down and the gang members began running away Trick found his feet again, slashing at Spike, catching him across the chest.
Spike responded by planting the toe of his boot in Trick's crotch, dropping him.
He and Buffy stood alone and triumphant, panting for breath, when they heard a scream from inside. She froze for a split-second, but he didn't, charging the French doors.
A single student was standing there, holding Dawn by the throat, babbling some threat at her mother. Spike grabbed him by the neck, squeezing hard, and headbutted him, knocking all three of them to the ground, Dawn trapped between the two boys.
Spike straddled them both, slamming his fist into the boy's face several times. "Get your hands off her!" He snarled, continuing to punch long after the other boy's whole body had gone slack.
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him off. He turned, facing Buffy, who was staring at him.
"Don't think you're getting off easy, Slutty!" He snapped, waving a finger in her face. "You and I are still going to fight!"
She punched him and he fell backwards, passing out.
**
Spike woke up with a moan, hearing voices. "Lost a lot of blood. . . maybe we should take him to the hospital."
"Spike's fine, mom." Said Buffy.
Spike's eyes snapped open. He was lying on a couch, and Buffy was sitting on the slight bit of couch left over beside him, putting a bandage on his bare chest. He felt a flash of embarrassment, one he quickly squashed.
"What are you doing?" He asked. She grabbed his shoulders, holding him down.
"You helped my sister, so I'm going to be civil. But you open your mouth, and you're going to be missing teeth."
He glanced to her belt, where a set of nunchuks were tucked. Grumbling he settled back.
"Buffy, isn't that a bit harsh. . .?" Asked her mother.
"Mom, this is _Spike._" Said Buffy flatly. "He's one of them."
Spike frowned. "Although, not specifically them." He noted. "I'm thinking maybe the demons would be better--although I whomped a few of them, too. It might just be best to start my own gang."
Buffy glared at him. "What did we say about talking?" She asked.
He smiled. "My, you're cute when you're angry. Can you just finish patching me up so we can get to the part where we fight?"
"Sure." She said, roughly slapping on the tape to hold the bandage in place. "That's a nasty cut." She said. "You didn't even notice it." She stood up, moving away, allowing him to sit up.
And why shouldn't he have his shirt off in front of three girls? After all, he'd put a lot of work into looking as fine and sculpted as he did. He grinned, picking up his torn and bloodied shirt, but not putting it back on.
"Pain's my friend." He told her. She rolled her eyes.
"All right, you're patched up. Get out." She pointed to the door.
"Buffy!" Said her mother. She extended her hand. "I'm Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother, and I think you already met Dawn."
He smiled at her, a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, I met Dawn. Cute kid. For a brat."
Buffy choked down a response, glaring at him. Dawn wavered, and he felt a slight pang of remorse.
He covered by turning on Buffy, pulling his shirt on, and throwing a discreet wink in Dawn's direction. "Well, Slutty, I've got to get going. People to kill."
Dawn brightened up visibly. "Kill?" She asked. Joyce recoiled, but Spike ignored her, focusing on Buffy. "See you around." He said.
As he went out the door the belated thought that he was being stupid flashed through his head. But he forced it down, just as he forced down most other intelligent thoughts.
If he had considered his situation at all he would have realized exactly what he had done, cutting off the only ally he'd made since coming to a place where allies were everything. He would have realized that he should have been listening to his uncle.
But then, thinking had never been his strong suit.
Giles opened the door, staring out at his nephew. His nephew smiled at him, still reeling a little. "Big fight at the Bronze, Giles." He said, starting to topple. Giles grabbed him, supporting him.
"You git." He sighed, dragging Spike to the couch where he dropped him. He stared at his snoring nephew and shook his head, walking back across the room.
When he woke up the boy was sitting at the table, holding his head. Giles sat down opposite him. "Hangover?" He asked.
"Less painful." Groaned Spike. "Who gave her nunchuks and such anyways, eh?"
Giles perked up a bit. "You faced a girl with nunchuks?" He asked. "That's. . . interesting."
"Painful is the word you're searching for." Growled Spike. "Now leave me be."
"No, I think not." Said Giles. "Who hit you? Was it Buffy Summers?"
"Yes." Said Spike, glancing at Giles in surprise.
"The girl's a regular little stormtrooper." Said Giles. "I'm supposed to reign her in. That's what the principal told me. Truthfully, I'd rather reign in everyone else. Now consider, she stands up for the underdogs in this school. She's tough, she's bad, and she's pretty. Whose side do you really want to be on?"
Spike scowled at Giles.
"This _is_ a graded question." Added Giles.
"Graded?"
"Right and wrong answer. You really want to join the freaks out there? Or you want to be part of a gang that includes her?"
"You're full of it." Sneered Spike, standing. "And I'm going to be late for school. Let's get out of here."
**
As Spike walked down the hall he noticed the students shrinking back from him, afraid. Although on one level it was kind of fun, on another level it made him cringe. What a bunch of pansies, afraid of him! Didn't they know real fear?
Well, of course they did. He wasn't just putting on an act. He had become the Big Bad. Everything that Angel had thought he was, Spike had become. Everything that Giles was afraid of, Spike had become. Every fear he'd ever encountered, he had become.
He saw Buffy Summers, and grinned.
He'd find out what she was afraid of soon enough.
"Oy, Summers!" He yelled. She whirled, facing him. He stalked closer.
"Good work getting the jump on me last night." He said, sneering. "We'll see how effective that is twice tonight, eh?"
"I said before, anytime, anyplace, Spike." She spat, then turned and ran off to class.
Spike left. He never had bothered with class very much at all. It was just a waste of his time.
That evening, before school had let out, he headed down for her place. Finding it was easy. He leaned against the tree in front, examining the quiet suburbia.
A twelve year old girl approached him, wrinkling her nose. "Are you here to fight Buffy?" She asked.
"Sure am." He said cheerfully. "What are you, her tackle dummy?"
The kid had the nerve to giggle. "I'm her sister, Dawn." She said seriously. "She's gonna kick your butt, you know."
He grinned. "Maybe I'll kick hers."
"Doesn't happen. She was gonna be in the Olympics, you know, till Mr. Merrick died."
"Aw, what a shame. Now she'll just be a high-school dropout." Mocked Spike. Dawn giggled some more.
"Dawn!" An older woman was scowling, watching them. "Come in here this minute!"
"S'alright." Said Spike, waving a hand jauntily. "I'm a friend of Buffy's."
She relaxed a little. "Oh, you must be Xander, then." She said.
"No, I'm Spike." He said, smiling. She approached him.
"Spike?" She asked. "I haven't heard that name before."
"I'm new." He clarified. "Crazy town you have here."
She sighed. "We're right on the end of the drug pipeline. It's blasted annoying, that's what it is."
Spike nodded sympathetically. "I bet." He said. He glanced around the neighborhood. "Do you usually have all those gang members on the corner?" He asked casually.
Buffy's mother looked both ways. "Dawn, go in the house right now." She said flatly.
There was a noise by the door, and then the door slammed shut. Trick was standing by the door, holding it closed. "No, no." He said. "Stay out here, Dawnie."
Buffy's mother looked at Spike, panic in her eyes, as she put two and two together and came up with five.
He looked back steadily. "Don't panic." He said flatly.
"Mom!" Buffy was running down the sidewalk. Trick walked towards Dawn, grinning. He had a knife in his hand.
"Stop right there." He said. Buffy stopped.
All around the gang members closed in, punks dressed in baggy pants. High school gang members. Kids.
Spike looked around.
"You ticked me off bad, Spike." Hissed Trick. "Now you and Summers are dog meat."
Spike didn't respond, staring at the little girl. She was staring back at him, and she mouthed something.
Reading lips wasn't his bag.
"Just say it, Bit." He snapped.
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I said, you're a putz."
He glowered at her, ignoring Trick. "I'm a putz? Say, how would you like to be drop-kicked through your big window, there?" He pointed to the French windows on the side of her house. "Huh?"
Then he whirled, grabbing Trick, and yanked him headfirst into the tree.
Dawn grabbed her mother's hand, running for the French doors.
"You're gonna cut me, huh?!" Spike demanded angrily, slamming Trick's head against the tree. All around him the gang members closed in.
But Buffy was there, spinning and kicking and jumping and slashing. The gang members tried to escape, but Spike was there slamming his fist into faces and Buffy's foot found faces faster than any of them could move.
As the fury of the battle died down and the gang members began running away Trick found his feet again, slashing at Spike, catching him across the chest.
Spike responded by planting the toe of his boot in Trick's crotch, dropping him.
He and Buffy stood alone and triumphant, panting for breath, when they heard a scream from inside. She froze for a split-second, but he didn't, charging the French doors.
A single student was standing there, holding Dawn by the throat, babbling some threat at her mother. Spike grabbed him by the neck, squeezing hard, and headbutted him, knocking all three of them to the ground, Dawn trapped between the two boys.
Spike straddled them both, slamming his fist into the boy's face several times. "Get your hands off her!" He snarled, continuing to punch long after the other boy's whole body had gone slack.
Strong hands grabbed him, pulling him off. He turned, facing Buffy, who was staring at him.
"Don't think you're getting off easy, Slutty!" He snapped, waving a finger in her face. "You and I are still going to fight!"
She punched him and he fell backwards, passing out.
**
Spike woke up with a moan, hearing voices. "Lost a lot of blood. . . maybe we should take him to the hospital."
"Spike's fine, mom." Said Buffy.
Spike's eyes snapped open. He was lying on a couch, and Buffy was sitting on the slight bit of couch left over beside him, putting a bandage on his bare chest. He felt a flash of embarrassment, one he quickly squashed.
"What are you doing?" He asked. She grabbed his shoulders, holding him down.
"You helped my sister, so I'm going to be civil. But you open your mouth, and you're going to be missing teeth."
He glanced to her belt, where a set of nunchuks were tucked. Grumbling he settled back.
"Buffy, isn't that a bit harsh. . .?" Asked her mother.
"Mom, this is _Spike._" Said Buffy flatly. "He's one of them."
Spike frowned. "Although, not specifically them." He noted. "I'm thinking maybe the demons would be better--although I whomped a few of them, too. It might just be best to start my own gang."
Buffy glared at him. "What did we say about talking?" She asked.
He smiled. "My, you're cute when you're angry. Can you just finish patching me up so we can get to the part where we fight?"
"Sure." She said, roughly slapping on the tape to hold the bandage in place. "That's a nasty cut." She said. "You didn't even notice it." She stood up, moving away, allowing him to sit up.
And why shouldn't he have his shirt off in front of three girls? After all, he'd put a lot of work into looking as fine and sculpted as he did. He grinned, picking up his torn and bloodied shirt, but not putting it back on.
"Pain's my friend." He told her. She rolled her eyes.
"All right, you're patched up. Get out." She pointed to the door.
"Buffy!" Said her mother. She extended her hand. "I'm Joyce Summers, Buffy's mother, and I think you already met Dawn."
He smiled at her, a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, I met Dawn. Cute kid. For a brat."
Buffy choked down a response, glaring at him. Dawn wavered, and he felt a slight pang of remorse.
He covered by turning on Buffy, pulling his shirt on, and throwing a discreet wink in Dawn's direction. "Well, Slutty, I've got to get going. People to kill."
Dawn brightened up visibly. "Kill?" She asked. Joyce recoiled, but Spike ignored her, focusing on Buffy. "See you around." He said.
As he went out the door the belated thought that he was being stupid flashed through his head. But he forced it down, just as he forced down most other intelligent thoughts.
If he had considered his situation at all he would have realized exactly what he had done, cutting off the only ally he'd made since coming to a place where allies were everything. He would have realized that he should have been listening to his uncle.
But then, thinking had never been his strong suit.