Buffy peered out from behind the curtain at the bright lights that illuminated the large middle ring. She was dressed in a maroon leotard with a shimmering pink skirt that went down to her knees. Tara and Fred had done her hair and Cordelia had reluctantly allowed Buffy to wear one of her pairs of large star earrings.
Angel, Charles Gunn, and Riley Finn, the three strong men were just finishing their performance and a multitude of applause, mostly from drooling women, followed them out.
They walked past Buffy, greeting her with smiles and a saying of "Good luck, kiddo." She smiled back and turned to Spike, who was standing silently behind her.
"You ready?" She asked.
"Yeah," he said gruffly before the lights dimmed, which was their cue.
Buffy's unbeatable aim had led to Fred babbling about weapon opportunities and eventually suggesting that Buffy be a knife-thrower, which had been a fantastic idea. Unfortunately, there was no one who a) could be spared b) trusted Buffy's skills that much or c) fit the bill. While Gwen had shaken her head, Spike had accepted the job without hesitation.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Giles' voice boomed out from the speakers. "For the grand finale, please welcome the lovely Buffy, our Lady of the Knives!"
Buffy pranced into the centre of the ring and raised her arms into the dazzling spotlights. She was met with applause and a few whistles, which she took without flinching.
This was Spike's first performance, though you wouldn't have been able to tell, seeing as he met the crowd with indifference and calmly got into his position in front of the huge target that had been set up against the far side of the ring.
He wore a simple outfit; his slightly poofy, bright green pants had a large yellow star on one leg and though the waist fit snug on his hips, they were connected to suspenders that went over his skin-tight, black-and-white checkered shirt. He wore no make-up on his face but he had donned a mask that covered the left side of his face only. The mask was white with half of an oversized red grin and a four-pointed black star for the eye painted on.
He stood in a cross position, with his arms spread straight out, his white-gloved hands extended languidly. Buffy stood about fifteen feet away from the massive target.
An inch and a half to the left of his thin waist, a sharpened dagger struck the target. Spike didn't blink.
Buffy played her part of the Mistress of the Knives and smirked at Spike and winked at the crowd and toyed with her daggers enticingly, which earned her several more cat calls from the audience.
Another knife hit its mark an inch below Spike's extended right arm.
"Try to look scared, my little clown," she said jokingly as she gripped another knife. "Play the crowd up a little."
Spike didn't respond and kept his blank gaze directly on her. She frowned a bit, wondering about this strange guy as she turned again to face him.
He's so calm, not nervous at all. Like he isn't afraid at all. Isn't afraid of anything. Not even death.
She thought as she brought her arm back, preparing to hurl another knife in his direction. She looked into his impassive eyes
Is that it then, Spike? You're not afraid to die?
As Buffy flung her arm forward and let loose the knife, she felt her disturbed thoughts mangle her aim.
"No," Buffy gasped as the tilted blade flew out of her hand. Her eyes widened as the knife zoomed towards Spike.
Buffy didn't start breathing again until she saw the dagger solidly implant itself in the target with a dull thunk next to the uncovered half of Spike's head.
She pulled in a shaky breath as a trickle of warm blood slid down the side of Spike's face. He hadn't twitched throughout the entire mishap.
The audience cheered and clapped and whistled loudly as Buffy and Spike took their bows in stony unison in the centre of the ring.
As soon as the two of them had vanished backstage behind the red and white, striped canvas, Buffy hurriedly checked Spike's wound, which turned out to be a deep but relatively small graze that began on the side of Spike's face not far from his eye and ran back into his blond hair.
He shrugged her off in irritation and she paused her fawning to look him in the eye.
"Why didn't you dodge that last knife?" She begged, confused.
He regarded her unemotionally.
"You don't pay me to dodge," was all he said before he turned and walked away.
Buffy watched his back until he'd vanished into the men's sleeping tent, presumably to clean his cut. She sighed, annoyed at herself for the blunder; it had been the first time her aim had ever been off, and now Spike was irritated with her.
You always were fantastic with first impressions, she thought sarcastically to herself.
Deciding that standing there feeling sorry for herself wasn't helping, Buffy rubbed her arms and walked off towards the women's sleeping tent.
As she passed by the Manager's office, she heard raised voices and, giving in to her curiosity, paused to listen.
"Now, it's a simple story. Stop me if you've heard it. I have found and truly believe that there is nothing so bad it cannot be made better with a story. And this one's got a happy ending. Well, for me anyway."
"I've told you once and I will now repeat myself," she heard Giles say angrily. "My answer is 'no' and that is final."
It sounded like someone was gathering papers and then the vexed, Southern drawl drifted towards Buffy again.
"Well now. We'll see what happens, won't we."
"Get out of here."
A tall man in what looked like a priest's outfit exited Giles' office with a smirk on his face. Buffy froze as he caught sight of her.
The man glanced at her up and down; then with a look of disgust and a mocking tip of his hat, he turned and left the big top.
Buffy glared after him and then noticed Giles doing the same from the door of his office.
"What was that about?" Buffy asked curiously.
"Oh. That bastard wants to buy the circus."
Buffy frowned. "Why would a priest be so keen about buying a circus?"
"He's not really a priest, he's a business tycoon. He'd make millions by purchasing the circus, deconstructing it, and selling the pieces."