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Author's Chapter Notes:
WARNING: Slight violence and blood (play)
Okay, so slight violence means swords. I roughly know how to fence and I've read enough to get the gist of it, but I researched and everything so if I've said the wrong thing or wrote the wrong movement or anything, please don't yell at me.
As normal, thanks to my brilliant damp spooner beta (dampersandspoons) and the next chapter will be up when I have bothered to write it and send it off to Beth.
Disclaimer: Joss is boss. He owns the lovely characters and I only play dresses up to amuses us all. Sorry, not trying to harm any copyrights.
Chapter Eight: Swords Play

Freakin' males who don’t call you after you worry about them because they get a concussion from seeing my mother and his best friend going at it over my bathtub in my bathroom when he could just pick up the phone and tell me at least he’s all right and his stupid friend isn’t—

“Ah, Buffy? We’re going to be over in court C.”

I nodded distractedly to the boys. They had fear in their eyes.


Well, I was holding a broadsword.

I love Saturdays. I always hate when I’m on a book tour and I can’t make it to Saturday afternoons at the Museum. The medieval festival in winter always brought large crowds, many of whom wanted to know how to wield the swords. And I just happened to be awesome with the weaponry.

Not many people knew, but other than my award winning uppity literature, I also wrote fantasy novels. I always used them as a means of escape when no one was looking back when I was in high school. They are the reasons I became friends with Willow. She saw me sneaking a read in Chem and she exclaimed, “Ohmygod! That’s my favourite book in the Holly Spell series!”

I even had a different publisher. Only the taxers and Willow knew of my other writing.

I swung the sword through the air, meeting only a little resistance as the drag pulled through against my shoulders and the right side of the blade.

I had just been so angry at him. Blowing off my concern. And Angel, I really could behead him now. One more note and I’ll bring this broadsword to work to get rid of that stupid hair.

The students of the first Saturday lesson I held at the Medieval Museum slowly drifted out of the little practice courts as the class ended. I re-sheathed the blade and went off to find the old Curator and his wife. Dr Gregory had taught me basic swordplay when I was in high school. He even found me another instructor when he could teach me no more. In return, I willingly agreed to give children and adults classes every Saturday afternoon. The Museum was only an hour’s drive up the motorway from the city, and it gave me a chance to see green rather than the god awful grey concrete tombstones of office buildings.

I had finished eating my lunch with the Gregory’s in the cool air-conditioning and walked back out to the practice court for the adult class.

I was ready to put my advanced students through their paces because I felt the need for a bit of a fight. I sighed, that wouldn’t happen this weekend. Dr Gregory told me I’d have a few new students so in this session I’d be babysitting instead of working off my anger.

My anger that only intensified when I heard a very familiar British voice say, “Ready for a rough and tumble?”

****


So this is why Andrew was talking so excitedly about fencing classes at the museum. His crush on Buffy would have been funny if I wasn’t so mad at her. The anger wouldn’t last. Mainly because I turned around to see her holding that massive bit of medieval metal and my pants hoisted sail.

My sweats weren’t ready to see her with her hair pulled back and her breasts snug behind the training bra and her tiny shorts where her long legs languorously moved towards me.

I gulped very audibly, trying to remember why I was angry at her. How the hell could I be angry when—,

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Her sabre hung precariously close to my groin.

“What are you doing here, Spike?”

The rest of the class was looking at us in amusement; amusement at my expense because three seconds ago I was challenging a git to a duel and now my jewels were being challenged.

“Heard Andrew mention a museum with fencing classes. Thought I’d swing by for a bout.”

“Did you really think you could take me? Did Andrew tell you how many years I’ve been fencing?” She said with a scowl across her brow so cute I just wanted to lick it off.

“Didn’t know it was you doing the classes. Otherwise I wouldn’t have come, love.”

“So you are avoiding me?” Her scowl deepened and I remembered the sharp blade against my thigh. “What the hell is your problem? You…do what you did…and then you get angry when I try to help you when you are barely conscious and I’m not your love.”

“Well you have stupid hair.” The git I was challenging sniggered and Buffy threw her gorgeous glare in his direction. She motioned for them to pair up and begin the warm up before she turned back to me, her pretty little nose stuck up in the air.

“That was not an answer. So are you any good at this?”

“Being poked in my goodies by a big metal stick? Not really. But I can wield a mighty sword.” Bloody Zeus Almighty, I did not say that aloud. No matter how hard I wanted to take her against the padded floor I was not going to settle for no returned affections.

She finally moved the blade away from my package and walked over to her little armoury table. I didn’t move.

She walked back with identical epees in her hands. I darted forward to catch the blade she had tossed into the air. Her surprise shone past the anger that had been firmly implanted on her face.

“I’m good, think you can handle me?”

“I’ve been fencing longer.”

“Doubt it. English poncy school system. Started when I was a kid.”

“I’m older.” She lunged forward after thrusting her blade outward towards

“Not by much.”

At first the parries and thrusts that tanged with the sounds of the metal touching together ringed across our court. I bit down, the bittersweet blood dripping from my lip to tinge the air between us. She was much faster than I thought possible.

The epees bended and twisted with our bodies as if we were dancing the courtly dances of the Mother Country with poise and grace. That is until I moved too close as I lunged forward before thrusting the epee and her sword came nipping down to slash towards my groin, again.

“Hey, watch it love, you almost lopped off my jigglies.”

****


I watched him tuck his elbows in and renew his attack. He was good. Beyond good, but I was better. Even if he had been training since he was a kid, he hadn’t been training recently. He forgot to place his feet back before he initiated a thrust and obviously became distracted when trying to pointedly focus on my body to get back into our rhythmic parries because he just ogled my boobs.

I took the chance. I calculatedly swished the blade and it came dangerously close to his neck. I looked down into his eyes. His blue diamonds shone strangely with a light I couldn’t touch or even begin to copy. All my frustrations were gone…well all my emotional frustrations.

“So, are we all good now?” I forgot my blade was against his throat as my breasts heaved up and down taking in anticipatory air.

He had the sincerity to gulp. “Yes, ma’am.”

I smiled brightly, my epee not moving an inch. “So, do you want to come out to lunch tomorrow?”

“Like a date?” His diamonds shattered into happiness that rebounded across his face, his beautiful lips breaking into a massive grin. “Like you want to date me?”

God, if he hadn’t looked so happy I would have pressed the epee into his skin to stop him from being so damn frustrating.

“Yes, as in William Pratt will you date me?”

“Sorry, love—,”

I had had enough. I pressed the tip right against his jugular and very gently moved the metal down his throat.

I had discarded the safety rubber tips before I handed over his sword. I kept my weapons spotless and in perfect condition. It was deadly sharp. And it cut into his skin.

I flicked my blade quickly under his, which hung loosely from his hand, and didn’t bother to watch the swords fly through the air. I leaned in, my tongue itching to taste his lips but the trickle of blood traipsing down his tender neck was too enticing to ignore. My lips touched his skin and a flurry of tremors moved down his body, the epicentre twitching under my mouth. I licked the nicks I had created with my sword and lapped up the blood.

“William Pratt, you will date me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His submission made my panties wet and I brought my mouth up to the shell of his ear.

“Meet me at Callori for lunch, 1pm.”

I could see his shaking hand snap away from his side and begin to snake up towards my ass.

I quickly stepped out of his reach and ignored him as best as I could so I could actually teach my class. The look on his face before I turned away was so god damned hot I knew I’d have to restrain myself at lunch. Oh yeah, he wanted me. But I knew we’d have to keep our pants on until we had a proper conversation. And I knew just how to make that happen.


Chapter End Notes:
If you remember back to Chapter Five when Spike was retroactively pondering about Andrew knowing something about Buffy that Spike didn't know, well that was it. Buffy's little sword swinging secret. Sorry if you thought it was something bigger or you forgot about it.



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