Chapter 6 - Slaying 101

June 5th, 2001 – 1215 Hours

PAST - 3 DAYS AFTER BUFFY'S DEATH

Sunnydale, California – Sunnydale Economy Motel

Hank squashed another cockroach, his shoe in hand providing the audible crunch confirming the kill. This place was … awful. He regretted the decision to find solace in dreary accommodations which suited nothing but his mood. A pitiful attempt to punish himself for allowing such horrible things to happen to what was left of his family.

Joyce, no matter how much she made his blood boil, was at heart a good person. She didn't deserve to die. And Buffy, though their relationship had struggled and frayed over the years, shouldn't have been thrust into the motherly role she was far from suited for. Maybe her death was a grim blessing in disguise.

He'd spent the majority of the morning making phone calls. Digging up any information that confirmed what Mr. Giles had told him. His only sound conclusion, that Joyce had indeed died of a brain aneurysm.

He'd sent some papers - provided by Mr. Giles - to his lawyer. He wanted an expert to take a look at Dawn's custody. And, although Trisha seemed baffled at how such documents had been authorized, she seemed to agree that everything was in order. That having it overturned would be a long and drawn out, with no guarantee of success. In any case Dawn was almost sixteen, old enough that her wishes would hold weight in any final decision. The bruise just below his ribs was a testament of exactly what she would say.

When the hell did she learn to hit like that?

He probed the tender, now purplish area. Dawn was so slender and lanky, it was unbelievable, the force which had knocked the wind from his lungs. Not something that one could simply do on a whim. Not a fifteen year old girl at any rate. Given Buffy's transition into a law breaking delinquent, it seemed to confirm his fears that Buffy had already begun corrupting her sister, pulling her along into the abyss. Ironic, that Buffy could cause him even more pain from beyond the grave.

Almost beyond the grave He corrected.

Tying his shoes he grabbed his bag and his keys, glad to leave the roach pit behind. He needed to swing by the site he'd located last night, take some daylight photos before finding a suit in short order. He may not be welcome, but he wouldn't miss his own daughters funeral. Even if he had to watch from a distance.

Sunnydale, California – Resting Meadows Cemetery

Hank watched from a short distance as the small group of mourners dispersed into the night. Though the timing was odd, the blackness of night seemed to suit his mood. A fitting way to mark the end of a once brilliant and shiny girl. The finish line of her drift towards darkness finally reached in every way.

He'd attempted to join the funeral before being unsurprisingly cut off by a furious Dawn. Her tirade of curses and shouts only stopped when a dark haired young man restrained her with some effort. Mr. Giles had quickly grabbed his arm, wordlessly guiding him away with cold eyes giving no room for negotiation. He wasn't wanted here, nothing said would change that. Buffy's lies and delusions, Joyce's grudges, had tainted the view of everyone. He knew he'd earned some of it, but he loved his daughters.

Though not content with the arrangement, there was nothing to be gained from approaching from the place where he'd been directed. It was a healthy distance, but he could still pick out the words the reverend spoke. It took only minutes for his eyes to fill with tears as the finality of his child's death struck home. The occasional glare from Dawn only twisting the knife. He'd always assumed he wouldn't outlive his children, that they would bury him. It was an assumption every parent had, but he'd been so sure. His work could be dangerous, and he was far from young.

As the group dispersed Mr. Giles approached him again. Giving a smile so forced it hardly seemed worth the effort to Hank. "If you would like to say your goodbye's, now would be the time."

Hank looked at the man with defeated eyes "How do you say goodbye to someone you can't believe is gone?"

… … … "I'd like to know that myself." With that he turned, slipping away towards Buffy's friends gathering nearby.

"What … what was she like? The last few years?"

Giles turned, giving a thin smile "Like nothing the world had ever seen before. You would have been proud. Just as I was." With that the man walked into the night, not looking back.

Hank steeled himself, approaching his daughter's coffin warily. The experience was still so surreal. His eyes drifted over neat lines of polished wood stopping at the silver clasps his eyes seemed to fixate on. There had been no service other than what he'd just witnessed. No display of the body that was customary. He needed to know. Needed to she her with his own eyes.

With a quick glance over his shoulder he snapped open the clasps, opening the upper half of the lid. Strangely, it wasn't as horrifying as he'd expected. Perhaps his shock was so severe that he couldn't process what he was seeing. Her slim figure, fitted into a white dress so well it almost made her look alive. The flowing golden hair that someone had taken great pains to brush and prepare inlaid with small flowers placed within the strands. Somehow 'hit by a bus' just didn't match the serene face of his eldest daughter. The only indication of her tragic end, a few cuts on her cheek to deep to be covered.

He was too late. He'd given up his nomadic lifestyle, dug himself out of a world of black operations, ghosts, and lies. His assignment to the SGC was supposed to pave the way to repairing his family. Now, no family remained to repair, none that wanted him anyway.

With no work to be found to distract him the thought was the last blow his will could take. Collapsing to his knees he cursed the heavens using every swear word he could think of, going so far as to let a few lose he'd learned from SGC reports. He begged and pleaded to have his little girl back, pleaded to anyone who was listening to no avail. Glad for his solitude as he crumpled to the ground, ruining the suit he'd purchased just earlier today.

Sunnydale, California – 1630 Revello Drive

Dawn laid on her bed, her eyes tracking the tips of the blade of the ceiling fan as it circled at a lazy pace. Even without the lights, the glow from the street was more than enough to make out the details. Her mind still fascinated at the effectiveness of her new night vision.

Everything is so different now.

She'd been a slayer for three horrible days now and she was still adjusting to the changes. Her eyes drifted from the fan, effortlessly making out subtle details of cobwebs stuck to the ceiling. She hadn't bothered with the lights when she'd entered, she didn't need them anymore, her eyes seeing through the near perfect darkness in crisp shades of gray. She wondered what other changes she should expect.

You'd think after having a slayer for a sister for years I'd know these things.

Gritting her teeth she covered her ears, desperately trying to block out the sounds from the living room downstairs. The distant noise of Willow's moans and sobs as the witches buried their grief in sex. The sound amplified to an disturbingly detailed level by yet another of her newly enhanced senses.

My god, Is why Buffy always sat outside on the porch.

Shocked at the horrifying thoughts of what her sister had overheard in the past she sat up, swinging herself off the bed and standing. Removing the black funeral dress she had worn, gently hanging the dress back in it's rightful place as the tears trickled down her ruined face. It was the second time she'd worn that dress, and now, she hated it more than ever. Glaring at the simple assembly of dark fabric, watching as the swaying movement slowly came to an end.

The instant it did she reached out, gripping the fabric with both hands and ripping it in half with ease, then again, and again. Tearing it over and over, the pieces disappearing into smaller and smaller fragments falling to the floor finally escaping her wrath.

Everyone she loved was gone, she had nothing left, nothing but an anger that refused to leave, fueled by something dark inside where the Slayer had made a home. She glared at the small pile of tattered rags now covering the floor, fighting thoughts of the past few days as they circled through her mind.

Giles had tried to speak to her. Over and over he'd tried only to be firmly rejected each time by the door she now hid behind. He'd explained anyway, talking through the door knowing she could easily hear. Explaining her new attributes, the training he'd scheduled before her sisters body was even in the ground. This was the man Buffy had chosen as her new 'daddy'. So insensitive to the magnitude of her loss that he was already trying to turn her into Buffy 2.0. Her mood soured even more when Hank had decided that, after years of silence, this was the week to make a surprise visit.

What a surprise he got.

She managed a half crazed chuckle, remembering the shock written on his face. It didn't ease the pain, but somehow just knowing the man who'd abandoned them had been blindsided helped in some small way. She prayed he was suffering even a fraction of what she felt, a glimmer of the retribution he justly deserved. But it wasn't enough, if would never be enough. Her face burned in anger as she remember her father intruded in today's family matters. A family that as far as she was concerned, no longer included him.

Dawn moved to her dresser, trying to decide what best to cover herself with. Everything her eyes found just reminded her of the little sister she used to be. Her face burning hotter as more thoughts of her father refused to leave her mind. Her anger finally reached its breaking point, boiling over the edges of her control. The wooden drawer in her hands exploded into splinters. Dawn left the room before the remnants even hit the ground. Storming through the hall wearing nothing but underwear as she turned the corner into Buffy's room.

She didn't need the light but it still make things easier, the colors brighter. Opening the doors to Buffy's closet she quickly pulled out a pair of leather pants followed by one of Buffy's favorite tops. In moments she's slipped them on, pausing briefly to look herself over in the mirror sitting on Buffy's desk. Grinning as she lifted Mr. Pointy's leather holster from the chair.

She slipped the stake from its home, holding the precious sliver of sharpened wood, studying its every detail. The stake her sister revered above all others in some unnatural obsession. She'd seen this stake hundreds of times but never before had she noticed the small 'K' carved near the base.

Kendra

She remembered her one and only encounter with the courteous yet abrupt slayer called after Buffy's first encounter with death. That simple little letter answering so many question her sister would never answer. Buffy's need for vengeance against the evil that had killed her friend a way for her sister to cope with the loss. Using the late slayers own stake to avenge her death a thousand fold.

Dawn slid into the wooden chair, gazing at the tear streaked face that looked back. Just another small piece of Buffy's life she'd taken for granted. Her mind wandered, wondering how many times Buffy had sat in this chair and watched in the mirror as her own tears fell. How many times had her sister sat and pondered what it all meant before slipping into the night to perform her under appreciated service to the world. Her eyes meandered across the desk before being caught by a slightly opened drawer. Curiosity won out as she pulled it open. The lockable drawer one she'd never seen adjar before.

What she found stole her breathe as tried to understand. Her hands pulling pill bottles by the dozens out of the drawer. She'd recognized a few of the labels, but her pharmaceutical knowledge hardly mattered. Pills of all different flavors, each with a different prescribing doctor, most, not even prescribed to Buffy at all. Just 'Antidepressant' written in Giles neat handwriting on the side, another with 'Steroids', others with 'Adrenaline', 'Sleeping Pills', 'Painkillers'. She shook her head, her mouth held open in shock as she realized not a single date on any bottle was more than a few weeks old. Of the nearly two dozen different pill bottles she'd found only one had actually been prescribed to her sister. She read the description on the bottle, simply labeled 'Adrenaline', Count: 100. It was empty, the lid still loose in the drawer.

Was this what her sister had resorted to?

The only way to ensure she was on the winning side of a battle with Glory? Even for the resilient body of a slayer, this was extreme. Her sister so strung out and stressed that she'd resorted to pharmaceuticals to keep the pieces of her life from falling apart. How much of this had been her own fault? A way to combat the stress heaped on her sister's shoulders with the loss of their mother while a hell god was on the loose, intent of using her blood like a locksmith for the universe.

She found her mind racing with question that had no answers. None that were any less horrifying than the conclusions already filling her mind. She shoved the bottles back in the drawer closing it all the way and wishing she had the key to lock this secret away from prying eyes. Buffy died a hero. It wouldn't do anyone any good to know they'd all leaned so hard on her sister that she was holding herself together by a hair.

She shook her head, standing so she could fastened the holster around her waist. Replacing Mr. Pointy in its sheath at the small of her back. Sliding into Buffy's favorite leather jacket she climbed out the window. Still angry beyond words, knowing that staying home listening to lesbian sex was only going to result in more damaged furniture. She managed a thin smile as she leapt the distance to the ground, landing painlessly on her feet.

I could get used to being a slayer.

Without pause she headed into the night looking for her first kill. Something to bury her rage into until none remained. So focused on her task she never noticed the dark figure trailing her at a distance.

Sunnydale, California – The Bronze

Simon slammed the remnants of his drink finding it just as unremarkable as the college girls giving him another glance of wanting eyes. He hated this place, the atmosphere, the crowd, the music, he hated everything. Almost everything. He paid his bill, taking another sweep around the edges of the dance floor, finding none among the crowd catching his lust. Resigned at his prospects, he faded out of the crowd, heading towards the exit. He'd nearly reached the heavy door when a young blonde stepped in his path. A silly looking thing, young, the stain of life not yet having left it's prints in her glassy brown eyes.

"You weren't leaving without buying me a drink were you?" The girl said smiling, pouring on the charm as best she could through her drunken haze. Her eyes, unfocused, looking past him into the background. Too far gone to decide which of the identical figures she was seeing was actually him.

Simon recoiled when the overpowering scent of tequila slammed into his nose. The very reason he'd passed earlier. Drunk girls held too little challenge to be of interest. His eyes passing over her nubile body with the appreciation of a male's intent. Estimating her age far below the legal limit to be a walking distilerary.

"Sorry, not my type." He replied, shoving past only for her hand to forcefully press against his cock. Another pulling on the bottom of her shirt causing more of her cleavage to spill through the edge of her top. "Reeeeally?" She teased.

Simon sighed before checking his watch. It was late, for a human. And soon the blood bags would be finding their way into the safety of their homes. He ran his eyes over her body once more and shrugged. Tilting his head towards the bathrooms down the hall suggestively. "I've got a few minutes."

She smirked with a smug confidence, grabbing his hand pulling him down the hallway. Her hair flicking through the air when she turned her head to catch another glance. A eager smile of anticipation crossing her face as she licked her lips. "Cold hands."

Sunnydale, California – Near The Bronze

"I never knew is was this hard to find a freakin vampire!" Dawn yelled in frustration, kicking an unfortunate can down the sidewalk in protest. It had been an hour since she'd left her home and still, nothing. Trudging along, huffing in ever increasing anger with each breath she turned towards the bronze. She knew Buffy often visited the club during her patrols, it made sense, vampires, teenage nightlife, surely there was one there.

Simon slipped from the bathroom, glad there'd had been no further interruptions.

A good lay and a snack, not so bad after all.

On autopilot, he quickly found his way out of the Bronze and into the blackness of night. Clearing the club long before he head the screaming start. He was still eager to find something … more … this night. The blonde had been a good warm up but far too scrawny to leave him satiated.

It hadn't taken long, only a block from the bronze and he'd found another to finish the night. Young, tender, nubile, she smelled so … delicious. Feeling a tinge of awareness, his head swiveled, checking for the blonde hair of the current slayer but finding none. He knew she was around here somewhere. He'd lived in Sunnydale for over twenty years now, since the day he was sired. He'd learned quickly to avoid the slayer when she'd rode into town stakes and dust flying. After a near miss that claimed his sire he wanted nothing to do with the bitch, his unlife depended on it.

He angled his path to put him on a collision course with the girl, unconsciously licking his lips. A quick bite as he walked by then high tail it back to safety and away from the slayer.

Dawn watched as the stranger approaching aimed just a bit more towards her. A move so subtle she didn't think twice about it. Just a man getting off the street on his way home. She closed the distance, walking past him with a wary eye, relieved when he cleared her preferentials but fighting the shiver that ran down her spine.

Wait, was that a-

She wasn't able to finish her thought as a strong hand gripped the back of her neck like a vice. Another wrapping around the front of her body crushing her into his chest. She tried to buck, to wriggle and twist, but his position gave him control. Panic instantly crept into her veins. She tried to think, tried to react, tried to scream, but the fear was absolute, paralyzing, as as she felt a cool breath across the side of her neck.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. His iron grip released into the familiar smell of vampire dust wafted to her nose.

"What the hell do you think your doing 'lil bit?!"

"Spike? Oh thank god" She replied, shaking as she turned to see her savior covered head to toe in black. His leather duster blowing in the wind busily sweeping away the remnants of her would be killer.

"Those don't belong to you." Spike said in a somber voice as he studied her very Buffy-ish outfit. One he'd seen before he realized when the smell radiating off the cloths hit his nose with painful force. Dawn had always smelled a bit like Buffy, but now, it was almost indistinguishable. The scent bringing back flashes of memories he'd rather drink into oblivion.

Something about how the monks had done it, created Dawn using a part of Buffy in the process. Before, there had always been enough difference to tell them apart. But tonight, a slayer, wearing clothes that once belonged to the blonde slayer he loved. There was nothing, vanilla, sunshine, and honey, the scent of the Buffy that drove vampires wild and lured many to their deaths. Bait. Trap. Executioner, all in one. And now, the scent of Dawn.

"I … I'm sorry" Dawn replied nervously, her eyes staring at the ground in shame. "I just needed to leave the house."

"Nearly lost you just there. Already broke my promise once." Spike said somberly "Don't make me do it again."

"Promise?"

"The one I gave your sister, to keep you safe before our big throw down with the hell bitch." Spike spat as memories refused to be repressed.

"I … I didn't know"

"I know you didn't. She wouldn't want you to. Wanted you to be safe, to feel safe, wanted you and mum far away from her world." Spike replied as he wrapped an arm gently around Dawn's still shaking frame.

"Mmmmmm" Dawn murmured, burying her face in the side of his chest. Taking in the scent of smoke and leather, the unique calling card of Spike that lingered long after he was gone.

"Guess there's no helping it now though is there. It's your world whether you wanted it or not." Spike focused his eyes on a point far away, forcing the threatening tears to stay buried as his mind wandered with thoughts of the older Summer's sister, and then the younger. "Just like it was for her."

… … …

"So what, figured you'd come take out the nasties just like big sis?"

"Ummm … yeah … pretty much." Her anger had disappeared with the vampire ash behind them. Her mood easing into contentment as she snuggled into spike letting him lead in whatever direction he chose.

"Figures." he scoffed "Just dive in face first without checking the water. Reckless, just like her. Only you haven't been doing this for years like she had. Your a baby slayer, don't know up from down, what is and aint." Spike paused to let his words sink in, caring compassion masking the burning anger he felt rising at her moment of foolishness.

"Check. Nearly died, lesson learned."

"Not hardly." Spike growled, letting a hint of his frustration show through "You gonna act the part, you gotta learn the moves, learn the dance."

"Buffy did like her dancing" Dawn replied smiling as she thought of all the times she'd heard her mother scolding Buffy about how late she'd been out at the Bronze. Though, in hindsight, she'd probably been beating back the forces of evil, or maybe it was still dancing.

"Not that kind of dancing love. You ever watch your sis fight before?"

"Of course I have, comes with having a slayer for a sister. Well, that and being a mystical glowey key thing, and a vampire magnet."

"Yeah, and what did you see?" Spike challenged

"I dunno I guess, strength, speed?" Dawn replied rubbing her eyes to keep away the tears threatening to emerge.

"Then your missed all the best parts. All slayers are fast and strong."

"Spike, where are we going?"

"Trust me?"

"I guess … If you wanted me dead I would have been a few minutes ago. How come your being still being all loyal. Buffy's … your a vampire."

"I owe it to her. She was … I don't bloody know what she was, she was Buffy" Spike froze up for a moment at his own words as he tried to truly think about how he'd felt about The Slayer "An Equal."

"She seemed to respect you … at the end."

He nodded "Probably too damaged to love me, after all she's went through. But she might have, one day. But she treated me like a man." Spike broke their embrace as his voice hardened. "We're here."

"Okay, it's a cemetery, big deal. Now what?" Dawn replied with a hint of annoyance.

"Now you learn." Spike replied gesturing towards a fresh grave.

"Oh!" She beamed excited as the thought of a helpless vampire crawling up from the dirt "Maybe I can actually get this one!"

Spike chuckled "Oh no. You're not going to stake him" Spike instructed as he snatched Mr. Pointy from Dawn's hand, already poised to strike. "You're gonna survive."

"Ummm, survive? I thought we stake vampires … non-friendly vampires?" She clarified.

"We do, we're not really here to stake vampires. We're here so you can learn how not to die. But this time, with someone a bit closer to your skill level." Spike replied as a hand shot through the fresh dirt of a grave "Right on time" Spike grinned, grabbing the hand and pulling the vampire from the ground.

"Thanks. Fucking root." The eager new vampire grumbled.

"Don't mention it." Spike replied, pointing the fledgling at Dawn "Hey look, a tasty virgin. All yours."

"Spike!" Dawn yelped, her face turning a bright shade of red.

"What, true 'init. Don't trip!" Spike replied with a small chuckle.

Dawn growled in annoyance, struggling to keep her distance from the eager vampire, visually drooling at the prospect of her blood. At least she hoped it was the thought of her blood she thought with a shudder.

"I'll just be over here with the stake." Spike replied, sitting on a nearby headstone casually lighting a cigarette.

Okay, you can do this Dawn. Just keep your distance

She jumped to the side, dodging the first attempt to grab hold of her.

"Quit being a wimp!"

"Seriously? I thought I was trying not to die?" Dawn shouted, frustrated.

"You are, but running away, isn't part of the lesson." Spike instructed, keeping watchful eye over his charge.

Dawn finally threw a punch, hitting the vampire with a 'crunch' of nasal cartilage.

No reason I can't hit back

The blow changed the dynamic in an instant, from catch and eat, to fight and kill. The vampire now lashing out in turn landing a punch square in her chest knocking the wind from her lungs.

She dodged the next set of punches, sidestepping neatly as she struggled to regain her breath. Unfortunately, the vampire seemed to be learning how to fight just as fast as she was, dodging just as quickly as her.

Spike watched with a sharp eye as baby slayer and fledgling clashed, each trying to find the better of their opponent. She was a pale imitation of her sister, the comparison laughable. But Buffy had been a slayer for years, even before he'd first had a go. Dawn, however, was starting at exactly zero.

Unsurprisingly, she seemed stronger than the fledge. But slower than she should be, wary, hesitant as she made up her technique on the spot. Complete with clunky moves, and telegraphed strikes. Fortunately, the vampire wasn't much better.

He shrugged, figuring a blank slate was better than one already tainted. "Lead, don't follow. You need him reacting to you, not the other way around."

"How can I do that. I don't … have a stake to … kill him with." Dawn all but screamed in frustration between moves.

"Just cause you don't have a stake? What the hell are you gonna do when you get jumped by a group of vamps and theirs not a stake in sight?" Spike pointed out.

Spike instructions resulted in a moment of distraction. A fist catching her jaw as she stepped back just a bit too short to dodge the hit. Dazed for an instant she paused before lashing out in anger. A few of her wild throws managing to find their targets.

He watched with with a keen gaze as the girl became frustrated, taking her emotions and grief out on the vampire as her reservations faded. It was only an instant, but easy to see with a well trained eye, a few blows traded back and forth mixed with dodges and clunky blocks. It wasn't refined, but in it's own way, it was still beautiful to watch. "Good, kill him."

Dawn was so confused "What, now I get … to kill him? How exactly … am I going … to do … that. I need my … stake back" Dawn cursed between deep breaths, not sure how to accomplish her new task now that she had apparently passed Spikes unknown challenge.

"This isn't your stake, haven't earned it. You telling me you never saw Buffy kill a vamp without a stake. I've probably seen her do it a dozen different ways and you can't come up with just one. Get creative" Spike snickered.

"Ugggghhhh" Dawn groaned searching her surroundings desperately for anything she could use. She smiled as she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

"Did I pass your stupid test?" Dawn snarled, throwing the shovel to the ground as she wiped off the dust.

"Not even close. But you survived" Spike grinned.

"This is ridiculous. You call this teaching me to fight?"

"Could be worse. Buffy told me her first watcher just gave her a stake, walked her into a graveyard, and said 'Good luck' before walking off. No explanation about what was about to happen, nothing. Just figure it out or die. At least you knew what was coming. She'd never even seen a vampire before then."

"I … I didn't know. She never talked about it. Never really talked about any of it with me."

Spike put his arm around Dawn "Didn't want you to worry bit. Didn't want you to know how dangerous it all is. As far as slayers go your sis was ancient, lasted a long damn time. It's not normally like that."

Dawn shrugged "Giles keeps trying to talk to me about training or whatever."

"Well, you bloody well need it. He's just worried bout you. Doesn't want you to be unprepared. Doesn't want something like tonight to happen to you. You'd already be dead if it wasn't for me. You'd have lasted a whole three days as a slayer. Sobering thought init. "

Dawn conceded his point, it was terrifying realization she didn't want to dwell on "Can we hang out at your crypt for a while. Don't really want to go home yet. I kinda trashed my room." Dawn pleaded, nuzzling back into the familiar safety of smoke and leather.

"No! Wicca's are gonna be worried sick if they figure out your not home. Now get!" Spike ordered, pointing towards her home which they'd apparently meandered towards without her realizing.

Dawn paused for a second ready to argue, but his icy glare left little room for question. She did as commanded, briskly walking to the front door before slipping inside. Memories of her close call earlier still freshly seared into her mind. Too distracted by her own thoughts to notice the looming shadow in the distance retaking it's post.

Sunnydale, California – Giles's Apartment

"Who the bloody hell is knocking on my door at three in the morning!? Giles fumed ripping open the door, axe tightly in hand. "Oh, it's you."

"Yeah" Spike grunted, striding into the house without a care.

"What the hell do you want?" Giles grumbled, strung out from an exhausting week and the disturbance of his disparately needed sleep.

"Bit went for a walk about tonight, tried to get herself eaten." Spike replied sadly as he sank into the couch.

"Dear lord. Is she alright?"

"Fine, got jumped by a vamp. Don't think she can sense them very well, not like … not like she could" Spike explained trying to keep a blank face.

"Buffy has told me that the hellmouth makes it difficult to sense anything. The hellmouth makes some form of constant background noise she had to learn to filter through."

"I could sense her just fine, both of them"

"Your evil. Easy to sense good when your surrounded by evil. Harder to filter out evil in a sea of evil." Giles pointed out.

"How'd she always find them then."

Giles let out a sad chuckle as he reminisced about his slayer "Oddly enough through the way they dressed" He shrugged. "It worked so bloody well, I didn't argue."

"Figures the chit would use clothes as a weapon. Wonder how many my kind been done in just cause they picked the wrong shirt?"

"If the numbers she reported were accurate … a great many. So, Dawn's begun trying to fill her sisters shoes. Only a matter of time I suppose. I wish she would have talked to me first. I've been trying to sit down with since … but she just runs off to her room." Giles let out a sigh, it was like learning how to deal with Buffy all over again except worse in nearly every way "The vampire she ran into, old?" Giles inquired

"Old enough. Blood on his breath, he was probably feeling pretty strong. Mostly, he just got the jump on her."

"I see. I know she's got a lot on her mind but … "

"But fights never happen when your ready for em. I agree Rupes. Took her to the graveyard, found her a fledge." Spike shrugged "Took away her stake."

Giles shot up from his slumped position "You did what?!"

"Relax. I'd have never let her get killed. She needed something more her level."

"I see, at least it's some experience. How … how …"

"How did she do? Compare? She's not … she's not her. She may never be as good. How many slayers have ever fought as well as … as well as Buffy? Not many I'd reckon, if any. Potentials there, raw, but it's there. She still sees it as fighting, clinical, force and power. Not … "

"Not like … like Buffy. Graceful, flowing … " Giles spoke as his mind went elsewhere.

"Like Dancing" Spike filled in.

"Dancing" Giles spoke with a small of a chuckle. "It seems to fit so well."

"She made it artwork Rupes." Spike agreed "Bit's got it to, saw it … just for a second."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. She is her sister after all."

"Cut the crap Rupes, I can smell her. Now that she's a slayer they're … it's the same."

"So … erm. What are we going to do for training?"

"Dunno, but if bits gonna be going on nightly walkabouts she needs to learn, and fast. Hellmouth isn't the place for a baby slayer. Always some new bad looking to move in. A few 'l come looking for big sis just for the fame of taking out the legend. Those are the ones I'm worried about." Spike sighed, grimacing at the thought.

"Like you?" Giles pointed out.

"Like me" Spike agreed "You know I'd never hurt her. Not after I promised …"

"I get it. I'd rather have you with us. Imagine what a slayer trained by William the Bloody would be capable of. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of how far Buffy came. But it's hard to train someone with superhuman strength when your … "

"Old?"

"At least I was born in this century."

"Point. I'll talk to her tomorrow. See what she wants to do. I'll be damned if she gets saddled with the gig if she doesn't want it. Council of wankers can break Faith outa Jail or off the bitch if they want their very own slayer."

"They'll still want to influence her" Giles pointed out.

"You tell em I'll eat any watcher they send."

"Chip?"

"You really think that would stop me? It's just gotta be worth the pain. Killing to feed … isn't. 'Sides, she wouldn't want me to."

"Which She?"

"I'm outta here watcher. Evil things to do and all." Spike headed towards the door. Finally pausing as he crossed the threshold "Both" he whispered, slipping into the night.