Chapter Twelve
Angel had set up a special training room in the mansion before he left for his shiny new life in LA. It contained the bare necessities for training, which were less than Buffy was used to, but there was a punching bag set up in one corner and thick mats laid out on the floor. The room appeared to have been built to be a private dance studio as the long wall was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors intersected by a thick wooden bar.
Buffy quirked a smile in amusement when she entered the room, watching the punching bag swing apparently of its own accord. Spike looked up as she entered and set about pulling the newly cleaned mats into the center of the room. She continued watching the mirror out of the corner of her eye as she unloaded some basic weapons from the duffle bag she had brought with her.
During their imprisonment in the Initiative, Spike had revealed that he had studied in Japan for about a year, learning all sorts of refined hand-to-hand and weapon combat. She was eager to expand her own knowledge in both fields under his tutelage.
After she had laid out an assortment of staffs and swords next to two longer wooden bos, obviously left there by Angel, she set about stretching her muscles during her usual warm up routine. Her muscles protested a bit as she slowly manipulated them into working order, the result of weeks of imprisonment had certainly been a compromise in both strength and flexibility for the Slayer. But that could be brought back with a couple of weeks of intensive training, she supposed.
“Ready, love?” Spike’s deep voice sounded from behind her when she finished off her stretching by sinking into a low split.
“Ready,” she replied brightly. It felt incredible to finally get the blood pumping through her veins again. And she couldn’t deny she was thrilled at the prospect of fighting Spike again, especially when she wouldn’t be in fear for her life.
**
Spike had watched the Slayer warm up her nubile, young body, feeling his own stir in masculine response to her various leg and back stretches. Cor, but she was beautiful. The small, dainty package that was one Buffy Summers certainly wouldn’t seem possible to contain such deadly strength and hairpin accuracy. When he watched her sink into languid splits he had to resort to a litany of disturbing and disgusting images to calm his body’s reaction to her agility.
“Ready, luv?” he inquired when he realized he wouldn’t be able to watch any more of her routine before embarrassing himself.
“Ready,” Buffy replied, full of California girl pep. She smiled at him as she joined him on the training mats, pulling each arm across her chest in turn, offering him an incredible view of her pert breasts. Spike rolled his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck in an effort to shake off any effect the Slayer still had on his all-too-aware-of-her body.
Buffy settled into a simple fighting stance, weaponless, and curled her fingers in a mocking come-hither motion. Spike couldn’t help the feral smile that broke out over his features as he slipped into an equally easy stance. They danced around each other for a few long seconds before the Slayer launched her attack.
Buffy threw herself into a full-on attack, not holding anything back in terms of speed and agility, though the strength behind her blows was tempered because of her still-healing injuries. Spike blocked each of her punches and kicks with expert ease and returned her attack with one of his own. They traded blows and blocks in almost equal amount as they moved elegantly around the space allotted by the mats. Buffy occasionally glanced over to the mirrors to watch herself battle an invisible foe and it was one of those moments of inattention that had her flat on her back, Spike’s human teeth nearly scraping her neck.
Buffy’s pushed desperately against his chest, attempting to keep him away from her throat, refusing to lose to him even in a sparring match. Especially after only a few minutes and a silly distraction. Buffy relaxed her arms marginally, throwing Spike’s balance off and twisted her hips to roll and toss the vampire off her. The move succeeded, for the most part, but Spike had managed to grab her left ankle in the process and now attempted to pull her closer.
Kicking out with her free foot, Buffy gave a solid blow to Spike’s unprotected side, causing him to relinquish her ankle with a groan. Buffy quickly bounced back to her feet grinning widely.
“C’mon, vampire, is that the best you’ve got?” She teased as she watched Spike get up from the mats, stalking the perimeter like a great cat. He smiled ferally at her, running his tongue over his teeth for good measure.
“Not even close, pet,” Spike replied before rushing towards her with a series of kicks and underhanded street fighting moves that had the Slayer panting for breath when they finally split. He could hear the rapid staccato of her heart rate as she pushed her body further than she had in weeks, her system desperately trying to keep up with the iron will of the small blonde.
They engaged each other in a few more rounds of fighting, each competitor pulling out dirtier and dirtier tricks as they became more and more desperate to best the other. Spike still had to watch the intent behind his moves and found that if he hit a little too hard or took a bit too much pleasure in landing a blow, the chip in his head would twinge in protest. The Slayer was hampered slightly by the still healing incision on her arm. She had stopped using it almost completely by the time she called for a time out.
“Need a drink,” she panted, rubbing her sore arm gently, attempting to get her increased circulation to benefit the healing of her limb.
“Sure,” Spike watched idly as she walked over to where she’d set down her supplies, taking greedy gulps from a water bottle. He made his way over to the weapons, inspecting each and weighing his options about teaching the Slayer about any of them.
“What are the big stick things?” Buffy asked, coming up behind him and pointing to the long staffs leaning against the wall.
“It’s called a bo, pet. It’s a Japanese fighting staff originally used by monks for both balance an’ self-defense. ‘S quite a useful tool,” Spike explained, picking up one of the two staffs and turning it in a slow circle in his hands.
“How is it used for self-defense? Looks like you could just spear someone with it,” Buffy remarked casually, picking up the second staff and mimicking Spike’s movements.
“I can show you,” he said, moving back to the center of the room, away from the training mats they were working on previously.
“Sure, teach me how, Mr. Miyagi,” Buffy quipped, giving him a short mock bow.
“Sensei,” Spike returned with a quirk of his lips.
“Huh?” Buffy replied inarticulately. “Sense-what?”
“Sensei,” Spike clarified. “Japanese word for teachers ‘n such. Right, so step into a relaxed stance, feet shoulder width apart an’ hold the bo with your right palm facin’ out an’ your left palm facin’ in.” Spike stood in front of her, demonstrating the proper technique before moving to one side.
“Now jus’ watch, an’ copy me when you think you’ve got it,” Spike started a simple series of advancing steps, swinging the bo in wide arcs, ending in a simple forward stance and thrusting the forward tip of the bo as he settled it by his feet.
He went back to the beginning beside Buffy and ran through the basic six step kata for her a couple more times before she joined him. When she had completed the first six steps, Spike added six more steps and demonstrated them again until she was able to follow him in synch. After adding two more sets of six and eight step formations to the kata, Spike talked her through what he had taught her.
“This is called a kata, or a formation,” Spike explained, each of his movements following the prior like liquid in a stream. “You use them in karate an’ judo an’ they’re used to both learn about the weapon an’ improve your understanding of how your body moves. My sensei taught me that the kata is as important to how you fight as sparring or open combat.”
Spike gradually added more power and speed to his thrusts and pivots, making the long staff twist and swing through the air with deadly accuracy. Buffy soon followed suit, and though her movements were nowhere near as fluid and practiced as the vampire’s, her natural grace and strength made her use of the bo quite stunning to watch.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Giles rubbed his eyes and let his glasses hang precariously from the tips of his fingers as he relaxed back into the sofa cushions behind him. He had been reading for over an hour and didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere. Usually he could spend endless hours lost in books and ancient translations, but this time he was unsure of what he was even looking for, what information could possibly be useful to them in their current situation. All he seemed to have accomplished was a sore lower back and an overbearing sense of frustration. Maybe he should go and see what his slayer and Spike were up to in the training room.
He entered the room quietly, having listened through the door to Spike’s careful instructions in the use of the ancient Japanese weapons. When he opened the door and slipped inside he was greeted with the sight of Buffy and Spike bowing formally, bos held perfectly against their sides as they prepared to spar.
Spike advanced slowly, bringing his bo towards Buffy’s head in a wide arc, allowing her plenty of time to block the blow. Buffy defended against it gracefully and counterattacked, sweeping her own weapon under the vampire’s feet. Spike gracefully avoided the move and progressively their movements sped up as the young slayer became more assured in her knowledge of the new weapon.
Giles was impressed and almost laughed out loud as Buffy planted one end of the bo on the ground and used it for leverage as she kicked out with both feet at Spike’s head. The move looked like it belonged in a cheesy Hollywood action movie, but Buffy, as always, made it look both deadly and graceful.
As the duo grew more comfortable it became more than evident that both were enjoying themselves whole heartedly. Buffy’s eyes were practically glittering in delight and Spike couldn’t keep a genuine smile off his face. Giles noticed the differences in body language between the dueling pair with some unease. Buffy flourished under the vamp’s instruction and seemed to revel in every well placed punch and block, whether delivered by herself or her so-called enemy. Spike watched the Slayer with an intensity Giles had never seen in their previous fights. Granted, he had only been witness to one or two, but there was certainly something else between the two supernatural individuals which hadn’t been there before their imprisonment.
In a move that caught the Slayer off guard, Spike had knocked her feet from under her and held one end of his bo at her throat. A killing blow would be only seconds away if this had been a fight to the death. Buffy admitted defeat with a heavy sigh and a put upon pout, dropping her weapon morosely and crossing her arms over her chest. Even lying on the floor, she made the motion look petulant.
“Tha’s the game, Slayer,” Spike said, smiling as he offered her a hand.
“That was way cool!” Buffy bounced up on her feet, smiling brightly at her partner.
“And an incredibly practical tool to learn, seeing as poles are a relatively commonly found tool in nature and streets alike,” Giles interjected, alerting Buffy to his presence. He would have liked to think that Spike had remained ignorant of his entry as well, but he was well aware that the blond vampire had sensed his arrival long ago.
“Giles,” Buffy said, a wide smile brightening her features. “How come you’ve never taught me to use this?” She spun the bo in a circle in front of her, marveling at the ease of the weapon in her hands. And sharpening one end of it would make it a formidable weapon against vampires.
“I, uh, must confess, I have no training in using it,” Giles shot an embarrassed glance over to Buffy’s new teacher. “Though a staff may seem a basic fighting instrument, it takes many years to finely hone your talents. I always preferred sword and dagger work. It was deemed more gentlemanly at the academy.”
“S’ true,” Spike said. “Fencing is a true gentleman’s sport.”
Giles chuckled quietly and shook his head.
“So, did you find anything news worthy?” Buffy asked as she put the staff back against the wall and walked back to where her Watcher stood. The training session had been fun and very useful, but her body was still weaker than normal and much more sore than she was willing to admit, so it seemed to be enough work for one day.
“No, it is rather more difficult than I thought it would be,” Giles replied shaking his head. “I cannot seem to shake my irritation at being transplanted to this place long enough to concentrate either, I’m afraid.”
Buffy wordlessly placed a hand on her Watcher’s arm, soft eyes shining up at him. She had accounted for her own and Spike’s issues about being stuck living in this place, but had only really given a simple acknowledgment to Giles’ own experience. It wouldn’t be much easier for him.
Giles met his charge’s eyes, so much wiser than he remembered them being. Buffy smiled warmly at him and squeezed softly before letting go of his arm and looking over to Spike who was walking back toward them. The three of them did share a hatred of the place and maybe that was enough.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy walked into the kitchen, combing through her hair still damp from her post-workout shower. She found her mother in the kitchen cooking up a storm for dinner this evening.
“Hey, is that turkey I smell?” Buffy asked, plucking a slice of tomato off the chopping board her mother was working on.
“Yes, honey,” Joyce swatted away her daughter’s hands as she tried to sneak more veggies from the salad. “Amidst all the stress and worry, I nearly forgot about Thanksgiving. But seeing today is Sunday I thought it would be nice to do some celebrating. I certainly have an abundance of things to be thankful for this year.”
Buffy beamed at Joyce, happy to feel at home once more. “How did you get a turkey so quickly if you’d forgotten about Thanksgiving?”
“Well to my happy surprise there was a small one thoughtfully tucked away in the refrigerator this morning,” Joyce replied, tossing the prepared veggies through the salad. “Whoever did the shopping is certainly covering all the bases.”
Buffy nodded and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge as she settled in to watch her mother cook. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever try to cook something as complicated as a turkey dinner. Besides, as far as Buffy-holidays and celebrations go, she’d probably be lucky enough to incur the wrath of some pissed off spirit in the middle of her dinner preparations. Best she stayed as far away from holidays as possible. Minimum input by Buffy generally equaled maximum holiday success had by all.
“Something smells simply divine,” Giles remarked as he came in carrying an armload full of books into the adjacent living room. Joyce’s face lit up with a stunning smile at the compliment and directed it at the Watcher.
“Thank you, Rupert,” she supplied, pulling open the oven to check on the progress of the turkey. “Dinner should be ready to eat in about half an hour.”
“And then it will be full turkey feasty goodness before the mass arrival of all the Scoobies,” Buffy added quietly, not entirely excited about being holed up in the house with all her friends, her watcher, and her mother. The idea made her claustrophobic, especially since she was already feeling trapped by the Initiative once more by circumstance. How dare they take away her house when she finally got back to it?
“Yes, we’ll certainly be filled to the rafters,” Giles muttered in response, sharing Buffy’s dislike of their present situation.
“Without all the fun of perfect comedic timing and a sitcom laugh track,” she winked at her Watcher. Giles gave her a smile and turned back to his books while Buffy turned back to watch her mother. It was a pleasure just to be in her presence again when she’d considered herself lost to her normal world.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dinner had been a surprisingly pleasant affair for the four occupants of the mansion. Giles had managed to find a few bottles of well aged red wine and even Buffy was allowed to indulge with her mother’s blessing even though she wasn’t twenty one yet. Spike had made a crack at the ridiculousness of allowing people to vote at eighteen, drive at sixteen, and yet not be able to drink until their twenties. Giles had found himself siding with the Victorian raised man and immediately looked like he’d swallowed something vile. Buffy and Joyce watched the exchange in amused silence which quickly dissolved into giggles as Giles turned a motley red.
The turkey was cooked to perfection and Buffy had finally relented and helped her Mom make a divine pumpkin pie. After the relentless giggling earlier, Giles had put all thoughts of Spike’s vampiric nature aside and pretended he was just another fellow Englishman who knew the intricacies of football and was surprisingly well read.
Buffy was more surprised that Giles had finally set his prejudices aside and started talking to Spike at all. When she and Joyce left the men to their after dinner drinks to clear up the kitchen their departure was hardly noticed because the Brits were deeply involved in a discussion which left them oblivious to anything else. When the two women came back not too much later, the men were still so deep in discussion they hardly seemed to notice their arrival.
“Thank you for a lovely dinner, Joyce,” Spike turned his attention away from his discussion with Giles and fixed a genuine smile on the woman.
“Oh, thank you,” Joyce blushed slightly, looking proud of herself.
“It was superb,” Giles agreed, visibly refraining from re-engaging the vampire in the discussion once more. He’d learned more about Spike in the last two hours than he ever thought he would. Anya may have been an unused resource up until this point, but with Spike’s vast knowledge of both demon and human history, he was someone else to bring in to the research fold as well.
“Yeah, Mom. It was the greatest,” Buffy grinned at her mother. “Not as good as my fantabulous pie making skills, but…” she trailed of with a mischievous wink.
“Well, of course not, honey,” Joyce agreed in good humor. The rest of the evening passed in relative ease, conversation flowing smoothly between the four residents of the Crawford Street mansion. The following day full chaos would reign when two more Scoobies would take up residence.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Willow looked up just in time to prevent an exceptionally embarrassing collision with a rather large man as she rounded the corner of the library stack she was busy searching in. Instead of falling flat on her butt, she merely collided with him, causing her stack of papers and pens to litter the floor around her. She had a massive paper due in Economics and she really needed to finish it as quickly as possible if she were to have time to organize everything for the gang before Christmas break.
“Oh! Sorry,” Willow exclaimed, bending down to collect the notebook and pens she had dropped in the collision.
“Not a problem,” a male voice said and Willow saw his hands busy picking up her fallen pens. Willow pasted on a fake smile, annoyed at the interruption, and looked at the man she had collided with. When she saw that that man was in fact Riley, commando and TA extraordinaire, she paled and her smile faded.
“I’m really sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” Riley said with a guarded smile. He frowned at her as if trying to place her, though Willow knew that Riley probably had a thick dossier on her back at the lab. “It’s Willow, isn’t it? You’re in Professor Walsh’s Intro Psych course?”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Willow answered shortly, taking the pens offered from Riley’s outstretched hand.
“So how are you enjoying the course?” Riley probed carefully.
“Oh, you know, it’s interesting. I’m learning a-a lot of n-new things,” Willow tried desperately to calm her speeding heart. Riley couldn’t do anything to her here in the library. She’d scream or run away. Even if he was some super commando shaped person.
“Well, that’s great to hear, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Not quite the same as that blonde friend of yours who was there only the first few weeks,” Riley joked, but his tone was serious.
“Oh, um, Buffy,” Willow searched her brain, desperate for a reason she would have left. “H-her mom. Um, got sick. Really sick, so s-she had to leave school to take care of her.”
“That’s quite unfortunate,” Riley replied before narrowing his eyes. “I certainly hope she’s okay. I mean, her mom too. Having a sick parent is always difficult. She’s okay?”
Willow got the distinct impression that Riley was asking about something more than what he has saying. Was he actually concerned about Buffy or was he trying to figure out if she knew where she was? She did, but she definitely couldn’t tell Riley that much. Still, Willow got the impression that Riley wasn’t quite as bad as those he was associated with.
“She’s fine,” Willow replied, looking him in the eyes. “It’s hard for her. I mean, taking care of her mom like that, it’s not easy for her. Lots of responsibility and the emotional trauma. But she has friends like me to lean on.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Riley responded, nodding solemnly. “I’ll see you in class for the final.”
“Yeah,” Willow called after his retreating back. As soon as he was out of eyesight Willow sank down to the floor, body quivering in fear. Had she said too much? Did Riley realize that Willow knew where Buffy was? Were they coming after her next?
‘Stupid questions, Willow,’ she admonished herself. ‘Of course they think you know where she is. You DO know where she is. I’ve got to go tell Buffy about this.’
TBC...
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Vette Hayden
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry about the delay in posting this chappie. I have my father-in-law staying with me so I haven't had a lot of time for writing and I'm leaving to visit home for a few weeks tomorrow, which is exciting but there's so much left to do it's quite stressful. But anyhoo, thank you to Mari for the wonderful and quick beta job *snuggles* and thanks for all of you that reviewed the last chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
reviews keep the muse inspired ;)