Chapter Five

Pairing: W/T – I'll get us there eventually.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own the characters from BtVS. I'm not making any kind of profit; this is simply for my own amusement – and hopefully the people reading it. This is completely AU, and there may be some dialogue stealing on my part here and there. There's no hellmouth, no oogly-booglys, and the only magic is the magic of luuurve.

Feedback: Eh, whatever (yeah, right).

Author's Note: Ok, here it is. The final reveal of whose perspective I've been writing from. It only took five chapters and I have a few other twists up my sleeve so my advice is don't assume anything. I do love all the guessing, so keep it up – it's very encouraging. Thanks to everyone for reading.

Now I Know Why It's called "Grunt" Work

I had been to the workspace at the gallery several times before, but strictly as a bystander just moving through, not staying for any real length of time. It was hot and noisy, and there was the distinct smell of gas blowtorches. It was early June and just starting to get warm, so the workspace was even warmer.

I standard beige cargo pants with a "wife beater" tank top underneath a light button-up shirt; Brenda had warned me to dress for heat, and to bring ear plugs for my first day. She started me off light for the first few weeks. I had to wear goggles just in case; I cleaned, and moved thin sheets of lightweight metal. I pushed around hand trucks and pallet jacks with scrap on it. While I started to become familiar with the tools like, the gas and oxygen pipes used for the highly volatile oxyacetylene torches, igniters and flashback arrestors, metal nibblers and shears. All these neat things that made chemistry class look like, well child's play.

As the summer wore on I soon became able to cut the sheets to the artist's specs. Some artists were very exact, and told you exactly what they needed; others would just come to you with a concept or a drawing. Those were the hardest to deal with because you had to work with them to sometimes bring someone's idea to life in metal. I learned to polish and treat the metals; I even became adept with the blowtorches – after more than a few nasty owies.

Some of it was light, and like cutting really thick cardboard, while others required a lot of effort. Never having been an overly muscular girl, I started to gain a certain amount of definition and muscle to my thin form. Sweat, heat and heavy lifting will do that for a girl.

During the summer heat at the end of my day, I started going to the Colorado Custard Company for frozen custard. I tried all the mixes and flavors, but my favorite treat after work became the "Single Track" – peanut butter, a brownie and hot fudge mixed into the custard.

Then I'd walk down to the penny arcade and people watch while I ate. Sometimes after I was done, I'd actually go in and play some of the old video games. Pinball, Galaga, PacMan, Ms. PacMan and Centipede were some of my favorites to play. I'd watch kids press pennies into whatever designs they chose from the coin press machines, play skeet ball, air hockey, or whack-a-mole. The sounds of their laughter carrying all through the shops, and out into the breezeway between the shops; somehow it lifted my spirits to hear it.

Then I'd make my way back to my truck to head home feeling a little lighter, a little happier, a little more… me.

Maybe surprising most of all, I began to enjoy the work. It was therapeutic to sweat and help create someone else's visions. To do something where I didn't have to think – I could shut my mind and emotions down – but my precision was absolutely essential. Some of the pieces I never quite got, but then again artistically inclined I am not. Others though, I found really beautiful, and in a way felt a little bit of pride at even somehow having been able to be a small part of this thing of beauty. I also slowly began to learn why Brenda loved doing it, and I was beginning to love it too.

Sometime in late August I began to notice this little boy; I figured he was about seven or eight year's old coming into the arcade regularly. He kept beating my high score on Centipede. It became this strange obsessive competition; I would even come in on the weekends just to beat his high score. I'd stop in on Saturdays to beat the score of "CRM" and by Monday he had beaten mine. It was completely infuriating!

Now, I realize this was absolutely childish of me, but in a way it was kind of fun too. Knowing the arcade biggest clientele were children didn't help, but I just couldn't let myself be bested by some little kid – it was against all the rules – or at least all my rules. I didn't care that it was just a silly video game, I didn't care that my "opponent" was more than likely in elementary school. I am the best dammit! Video games are not exempt, end of story!

Then the inevitable happened.

We both showed up on a Saturday afternoon to outdo the latest high score. We each stood to one side of the machine like gunslingers. Our fingers twitched slightly, and we immediately knew who the other was. Our eyes narrowed slightly as we looked each other over carefully and then the little bastard smirked at me. I rolled my eyes, and knew it was on.

"Two players," I challenged.

"Sure," he smiled, with a merry little twinkle in his very blue eyes.

We loaded in our quarters, and then looked at each other. "Go ahead," I told him, letting him go first.

I watched his eyes and hands dart smoothly over the controls, and couldn't help but smile as he played with glee. He chewed on his lower lip, his brow crinkled in concentration, while his blonde bangs fell into his eyes. Honestly, he was just absolutely adorable. When his turn was up he looked to me with this cute, shy grin that showed he was missing both of his front teeth.

I'm not sure just how long we played that day, but I'll guarantee you I must have spent a good twenty-five to thirty dollars playing Centipede with him after his quarters ran out. The only reason we finally quit, was when a short blonde woman that looked nothing like him showed up. He pointed to me excitedly, while he bounced up and down.

"Aunt Buffy, this is RED, she's the one I've been playing against!" he said pointing to me excitedly.

She laughed at his enthusiasm. "Well, who knew RED was gonna be an adult, and a girl at that. Hi, I'm Buffy Summers, and this little rascal is Robby," she said as she stuck out her hand.

I smiled and shook it. "Willow Rosenberg, nice to meet you, Buffy. So then what does CRM stand for?" I asked looking at Robby.

"Christopher Robin Maclay, that's me, but everyone calls me Robby," he said puffing out his chest a little. "My Tante really likes Winnie the Pooh, and she got to name me."

I stuck my hand out to Robby too. "Well, it's nice to finally meet the competition," I said as we shook hands and I gave him a wink.

"Well, we should get going, Robby. We don't want to be late, you know how your Tante gets when we're late," Buffy said.

"Can we play again, Willow?" Robby asked hopefully.

"Sure, I usually come in after work; I work up at the gallery. So any time we're both here we can play," I said with a smile. "I'll see you later, Robby. Nice to meet you again, Buffy." I said shaking her hand again.

Robby waved as he talked animatedly to Buffy's, while they left the arcade. I turned heading the other way to get a "Single Track" custard before I left to head home. I smiled as I walked, pushing my hands into my pockets. What a funny Saturday afternoon it had turned out to be, and frozen custard was just the cherry on top of a highly enjoyable day.

TBC…