Chapter Three: Pep Talks and Puppies
Buffy headed for the library after gym finished. She entered the room and stopped, hearing Giles’ voice coming from the office. His tone was uncharacteristically sharp, and she hovered unsurely, not wanting to be found eavesdropping.
“Now, I understand and accept that this is hard for you Spike, but you came here for a fresh start and that’s what I expect to see from you. If you skip another class, I will pull you out of school and you will be earning your keep at the Doublemeat Palace. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” she heard Spike mutter.
Buffy slipped out of the library, waited a moment, and then entered as loudly as she could. Giles and a rather ashen-faced Spike emerged from the office.
“Oh, good morning, Buffy.”
“Morning, Giles. Hey, Spike.”
The latter smiled at her. “Hi.”
“Did you want a book, Buffy?”
“Actually, I was just returning this one.” Buffy handed Giles a large History text. Giles took it and moved to shelve it.
“You two should be going to your next class,” he said, giving Spike a hard look.
“We’re going,” he replied.
The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. When Xander started to ask Spike where he was during P.E, Buffy kicked him under the table and shook her head. He turned the question into a cough and changed the topic. Otherwise, the subject wasn’t breached until lunchtime.
Spike and Buffy sat together on an otherwise empty table, Buffy with her “muck” as Spike affectionately referred to it as, and he armed with a lunchbox.
“I don’t know how you can eat that stuff,” he said, eyeing her plate with distaste. Today it was supposed to be spaghetti bolognaise. To Spike it looked more like anaemic worms in ketchup.
“I’m not fussy,” Buffy shrugged. “I’ll eat pretty much anything. What have you brought then that’s so much better than the cafeteria food?”
He took the lid off his lunchbox and showed her. “Tuna and pasta salad. And Nutty Berries.”
“Nut-what? Ooh, cookies!”
He grinned at her. “With chocolate chips. White ones, today.”
“They look delicious,” Buffy said wistfully.
“You can have one or two if you want. I’ve got plenty more at home.”
“Really? You don’t mind?” Buffy picked one up and examined it. “Where do you get them from?”
“It’s my own recipe.”
“Wow. What’s in them?”
“Brazil nuts, strawberries, cranberries and of course the choc chips.”
She took a bite. “Oh my – they’re gorgeous!” Spike blushed as if the comment had been about him rather than his cookery. “You seriously make these yourself?”
He nodded. “Want the recipe?”
“Do I?” Buffy said, as if the question was ridiculous.
“Mostly I just sort of go by instinct when I’m cooking, but I’ll see what I can do about writing out the recipe for you.”
“You should market these,” Buffy told him.
“That’s what Giles says. Actually, he says that about a lot of things I make.”
“Do you cook a lot?” Buffy asked.
“We take turns. He says I’m better than him though.”
She laughed. “Do you believe him?”
Spike shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. He’s always only cooked for himself, whereas by the time I was six I could do a simple dinner for four people unsupervised. I reckon, even though he’s older than me, I’ve had more experience.”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “By the time you were six?”
“Only simple stuff, you know, like jacket potato. Couldn’ do a roast on my own till I was nine.”
“Still … that’s really early,” Buffy said in amazement. “How did you learn so young?”
“My mum taught me.” Spike paused as he felt a pang in his heart. “It was our thing. I helped her out in the kitchen since before I could talk. Obviously at first I didn’ do much more than hold mixing bowls for her and lick the spoon -” Buffy laughed “- but I learned.”
“That sounds really nice,” Buffy said thoughtfully. “Wish I had something like that I did with my mom. Sounds like you two are close.”
A lump arose in Spike’s throat, and he just nodded. Buffy frowned slightly as a thought seemed to strike her. “Spike - if you don’t mind my asking - how come you live with Giles, and not your mom?”
Just two little words. She’s dead. No details needed. But Spike couldn’t bring himself to say them, or to see the sudden sympathy on her face as a result.
Buffy obviously noticed his expression, because she added in haste, “Or Buffy could just take her foot out of her mouth and change the subject, if you would prefer?”
“Yes, please.”
An awkward silence stretched for a moment before Buffy found a new topic and latched onto it. “So, when are you interested in the great Sunnydale tour?”
Spike replied gratefully, “What about tomorrow after school? I’ve got a karate class later.”
“I’m free then, too. Okay, it’s a date.” Buffy smiled. “You do karate, huh? What belt are you?”
“Only yellow. But I haven’t been doing it that long, I’m working my way up.”
“Did you do it in England?”
Spike shook his head. “No, I started a little while after arriving here. Swimming too. Giles got me a pass into the leisure centre for my birthday. I’m thinking of taking up rock climbing, too; they’ve got an indoor climbing wall.”
“Quite the active guy, aren’t you?” Buffy paused. “So -- just change the subject if you don’t want to answer -- but why weren’t you in P.E?”
“I was bunking off.” When Buffy frowned at him, he added, “I cut the class.”
“Yeah, the meaning was pretty obvious, I just … It’s not like you’re one of those people who hates anything physical; I just wondered if there was a special reason. Especially on your second day.”
Spike just looked at her for a moment. Did he trust her? He found that he did.
“I’ll tell you. If,” he said, “you tell me why you skived off English.”
“Fair enough.” Buffy sighed. “I wasn’t ‘skiving’, as you put it. Not exactly. See, a while ago I … I lost someone.” She swallowed. “I’ve been kind of … super-sensitive, I guess, since. The teachers understand. You upset me.”
“I’m sorry,” Spike said awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to -”
“I know, I’m just answering your question.” Buffy gave him a small smile to show she wasn’t trying to get at him. “Okay, your turn.”
Spike looked down at his hands. “At my old school, the P.E teacher was … well, he was a bully.” He paused. “He was only ever nice to those who were good at it, and even then he could turn nasty if they didn’t do what he wanted.”
Buffy remained silent, letting him continue.
“I was the worst in the class, and he made my life hell. When I was twelve or thirteen, he moved on from verbal abuse, and I started missing every P.E class after that.”
“Did you tell anyone about his behaviour?” Buffy asked finally. “One of the other teachers maybe?”
Spike gave a hollow laugh. “Everyone knew. But everyone was scared of him, so nothing was ever done about it.” He paused for a moment before forcing himself to meet Buffy’s eyes. “I was going to go in, I swear. I was in my kit and everything, and then … I just couldn’t do it.” Spike could hear the self-loathing in his tone and hoped Buffy couldn’t.
“This teacher of yours sounds like a complete jerk.” Buffy leaned forwards and touched Spike’s hand gently. “But he’s in your past. Coach Marren isn’t like that. He can be a bit hard on you if he thinks you’re not trying your best, but he’s a good teacher and he doesn’t abuse the students, verbally or otherwise. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.” Spike swallowed as she squeezed his hand gently. “We’ve got P.E again tomorrow; I think maybe you should get there during lunch and explain to him what you just told me. He’ll understand.”
“You think he will?”
“If he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”
Spike chuckled, and Buffy smiled. “Knew I could get a grin. Look, I’ll go with you, okay? You don’t have to be on your own.”
“Thanks, Buffy.”
-----
“Mom, I’m home.” Buffy shrugged her bag off her shoulder. “Mom?”
“I’m up here,” Joyce called from upstairs. Buffy followed the sound of her mother’s voice and stopped dead just inside the spare room.
It had once been Buffy’s nursery and up until now, the faded wallpaper patterned with rocking-horses and teddy bears had remained. Joyce and Hank had talked for years about having more children, but it never happened; and plans laid down several months ago to redecorate had been scrapped suddenly. Afterwards, Buffy had wanted it to remain how it was and certainly didn’t expect to see Joyce standing on a stepladder in jeans and an old t-shirt, stripping the wallpaper.
Buffy found her voice. “Mom, what’s going on?”
“Well, honey, it’s about time we decorated this room; it’s been like this for years.”
Buffy found a lump in her throat as she watched the wallpaper tear, feeling as if the rip was inside of her. “Mom …”
Joyce stepped down from the ladder and turned to her. “Oh, Buffy, I’m sorry to spring this on you.” She pulled Buffy into a hug. “I know this is hard -”
“I’m not ready,” Buffy said hoarsely. “Why now?”
Joyce sighed. “Well, we need a spare room -”
“Why?”
“Buffy.” Joyce’s voice sounded tense. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Buffy tensed. “Go on.”
“It’s … not going to be just you and me living here anymore, honey. There’s going to be an addition to our family.”
Buffy, alarmed, heard the same phrase ring in her memory in a different voice. “You’re not -”
Joyce laughed. “Goodness, no! - But - Buffy …” She took a deep breath. “You’re still going to be a big sister.”
“What?” Buffy frowned. “I don’t understand. Are you adopting a kid or something?”
“Well - not exactly.”
“Fostering then. Mom, why didn’t you discuss this with me before?”
“I’ve only had about twenty-four hours’ notice.” Joyce sat down on the rungs of the stepladder. “Buffy, your father rang me the other day -”
“I know. So?”
Joyce sighed. “Dawn’s your half-sister, Buffy.”
“My what?” Buffy gasped.
“Your half-sister. On your father’s side, not mine.” Joyce paused. “Dawn is eleven years old and a sweet kid, as far as I’ve seen.”
There was a few moments’ silence while Buffy attempted to process this. Finally, she said, “Dad has another daughter?”
“Yes.”
“She’s eleven?”
Joyce knew what she was thinking. “Yes, she is; and yes, I know what that means. But what your father did while we were married is ancient history, and it’s not Dawn’s fault.”
“Why’s she coming here?” Buffy asked.
“Because there’s nowhere else for her to go,” Joyce replied sadly. “She’s had a rough time, Buffy. Her mother doesn’t want anything to do with her; she’s been raised by her grandmother, who’s just died. Your father didn’t know Dawn existed, he only found out when she was sent to live with him - And it’s not working out. I went up there this morning after your father practically begged me to come and mediate between the three of them -”
“Three?”
“Him, Dawn and his girlfriend.”
“Right. And?”
“Dawn was just about ready to run away, Buffy. I could see there was no hope for the situation, and I offered her a home with us. She’s going to arrive tomorrow. Give us time to sort all this out for her.” Joyce gestured round the walls.
Buffy looked around at the room. She couldn’t imagine someone else in here; someone else in the family.
“I know it’s sudden, but Buffy, you’re the only real family she has left. Maybe you can do your best to help her feel welcome in ours?”
“I’ll try my best, Mom,” Buffy whispered.
“Good. Could you give me a hand here?”
Reluctantly, Buffy started helping her mother strip off the old wallpaper, pocketing a corner to keep, and painting the walls white. After dinner, Joyce produced several tins of coloured paint she had bought earlier that day and they began on a design Joyce had drawn up herself.
“I’ve ordered a new bed, chest-of-drawers, and small desk from that furniture store,” Joyce said as they admired their handiwork. “They won’t arrive till next week, but we’ve got the camp bed till then.” She thought a moment. “Maybe we should put up some shelves, they’re not too expensive. And maybe we should get her some presents - from what I’ve seen, what she owns can fit into one small suitcase, clothes included.”
Buffy looked round at the brightly-painted walls. “We should add curtains to the list.”
“Of course, I knew there was something. Right, curtains tomorrow morning. What colour do you think, Buffy?”
Buffy looked around at the window. “That colour blue. And for presents, I think something for the room, like a dreamcatcher or one of those disco balls.”
“I’ll see what I can find.” Joyce put her arm around her daughter and sighed. “I have to admit, this is venturing into the unknown for both of us, but isn’t it kind of exiting as well?”
Buffy smiled. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
-----
Spike woke up to the next day with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he was looking forward to his “date” with Buffy – not just because it was her, but also because he was eager to see around the town from a teenager’s perspective. On the other hand, he was dreading his meeting with the coach.
Lunchtime arrived and although he didn’t feel particularly hungry, he took his sandwiches into the cafeteria. There was no spare table. Glancing around, he spotted Buffy and her friends and hesitated. Willow caught his eye and waved him over.
“I’m not intruding, am I?” Spike asked. “I don’t want -”
“Spike, sit down.”
He sat down hurriedly. Willow might appear shy but she could sound extremely authorative, he noted. Buffy didn’t seem to have noticed him sitting opposite her; she was staring blankly into her plate of mince (which looked even less appetising than the worms had). He was about to ask her if she was all right when a ginger boy at the table spoke. His name, Spike remembered, was Oz, and it was the first time he had spoken in front of him.
“Anyone want a puppy?”
They all looked at him, even Buffy reacting.
“And, the Random Question of the Day Award goes to …” Xander gestured in a dramatic fashion with his mouth full, spraying crumbs and nearly knocking a tray of food out of a passing Cordelia’s hands. She squealed, slapped him and ran to join her friends.
“Sorry!” he called after her. “Not …”
“I’m serious,” Oz continued as if there had been no interruption. “Fergie’s pups are ready to leave their mom, and my own mom won’t let me keep more than one. She said twenty dogs is enough for any household.”
“You have twenty dogs?” Spike asked in interest.
“He breeds them,” Willow said with pride. “And he has twenty-six, including the puppies.”
“Yeah, and my mom says I’ve got to start selling them.” Oz sighed. “I’d like to know they’re going to a good home.”
“I’d love to Oz, but you know my mom won’t let me have one,” Willow told him.
Spike hesitantly raised a hand as if he was in class. “I’m interested. I know how to look after a dog. I’d have to check with my godfather first, though.”
“Sure. If you like, you can come back to my place after school and see them.”
“I’ve got plans for later,” Spike said, grinning, “but I can come over tomorrow.”
“Great. I’ll give you the address.” Oz paused and patted his jacket pocket, looking for something. “Anyone got a pen handy?”
Spike passed Oz a blotchy biro and he started writing on a paper napkin.
“Have you had a dog before, then?” Willow asked.
He nodded. “My brother bought me a puppy when he went away to university.” He paused, not noticing Buffy’s head shooting up at the word “brother”.
“What happened?” Xander asked.
Spike decided on the edited version. “She got sick when I’d had her three years or so. My mum wouldn’t let me stay off school to look after her.” He paused. ”When I came home she was dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Buffy said.
“Thanks.”
“What was she called?” Willow asked.
“Aphrodite. Di for short.”
Oz looked up and handed him the napkin. “What breed was she?”
“Golden Labrador.” Spike considered. “What breed are your puppies?”
Oz began to answer, but Buffy cleared her throat. “Uh, Spike? Sorry to interrupt the doggy dialogue, but did I hear you say you had a brother?”
Spike gave her a funny look. “Yeah, why?”
“Oh, thank you!” Buffy sighed dramatically. “Everyone here’s a only child, and I’ve been trying to find someone who isn’t. You don’t have a sister as well, do you?”
Spike slowly shook his head. “’Fraid I don’, pet. Why’d you want to know?”
Buffy took a deep breath. “I’ve just found out I’ve got one.”
“One what?”
“One sister.”
“You didn’t know before?” Spike raised his eyebrows.
“She’s my half-sister, and I’ve never met her but Mom has and she’s invited her to come and live with us. She’s arriving after school. I was sort of hoping I could find someone who can give me some advice on being a big sister. She’s eleven, I think.”
“Can’ help you there, Buffy. My brother was nine years older than me and I haven’t seen him since I was seven.”
“How come?”
“He went off to Oxford and never came back.” Spike shrugged. “I’m not really the person to ask about sibling relations, especially not of the girly sort.”
“Great,” Buffy muttered. “Oh, well. I’ll wing it. How hard can it be?”
TBC …
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