Author's Chapter Notes:
This is another story that I wrote prior to Season 8, so Buffy is still in Italy, presiding over the Slayers' Academy, where she, Willow, and Faith teach the new girls what Slaying is all about. It's more or less a sequal to my previous story, "Vigil," in that Spike has come to Italy to be with Buffy and is currently asssisting in training at the Academy.
Five feet two inches of raging fury slammed her way into the instructor’s lounge, almost succeeding in giving the witch a heart attack. As for the second senior Slayer in the entire world she wound up wearing the entire can of Dr. Pepper that she was just in the process of drinking. “Where the hell is he?” Buffy Summers demanded, green eyes flashing emerald lightning. “I’m really gonna do it this time. He’s gonna be dust when I find him.”

“Come on, now, B.” Faith said, dabbing soda off of the front of her new leather jacket, “I came in just as he was finishin’ up. He didn’t say anything bad. After all, it’s not like…”

“Don’t defend him, Faith.” Buffy growled. “You know how impressionable these kids are. He had absolutely no business doing what he did. That’s the very reason we agreed to keep him away from the girls until we had an opportunity to ease them into the whole situation. He purposely took advantage of my absence to pull this crap. Now, WHERE IS HE!” the little Slayer thundered.

“Uh…” Willow stammered, “I believe he went back to your cottage. He said something about a new John Wayne DVD Andrew had sent him…”

“I’ll give him John Wayne,” Buffy slammed out into the hall once more, grumbling curses under her breath, planning particularly gruesome forms of torture to inflict upon a certain blond vampire before she staked him with a fence post.

Back in the lounge, Faith, still dabbing at her new jacket, said, “We’d better call the maintenance people. This is gonna be gruesome.”

“To hell with maintenance,” Willow answered. “We’d better call out the Army.”

“Good Idea.”


A cold beer beside him on the sofa’s end table and a huge bowl of popcorn balanced in his lap, Spike sat through the opening credits of John Wayne’s THE ALAMO, resisting the temptation to fast forward to the action in favor of enjoying the stunning musical overture. Around a handful of popcorn, he managed to say, “Eat your heart out, Billy Bob. This is the REAL Davy Crockett.” He was in the process of washing the popcorn down with a healthy gulp of beer when he heard the front door open, then slam closed with enough force to rattle the whole house. “That you, love?” he called. “Rough trip home from England? C’mon in here. I’ve got a new movie…well, an old movie, but still, it’s…”

“What in the HELL were you thinking of,” Buffy yelled, coming into the room with just slightly less force than a good sized tsunami. “How could you stand before a group of young, impressionable girls and tell them…?”

“What in hell’s name are you so upset about?” Spike came up off of the sofa, popcorn bowl and beer bottle set safely out of the way. “Faith was busy, Willow was nowhere to be found, and you were off in jolly old England, prying expense money out’ve Giles so we can buy that string of horses you’ve got your heart set on. SOMEBODY had to give the little darlings some idea of just what they are now and what that entails, the history that makes up what Slayers are, what came before, what they have to aspire to…” He got no further because he was interrupted by a Slayer fist colliding with his vampire nose, sending him backwards half a dozen steps before regaining his balance. “Are you CRAZY, woman?” he demanded, wiping blood off his upper lip. “Are you having a relapse of the Immortal’s spell? I was trying to help out. I mean, that IS why you asked me to come over here, wasn’t it? To lend my experience and skills, to share my knowledge of the Slayers I’ve known over the years? I think I remember you sayin’ something like that. Was I dreaming?”

“I brought you over here,” Buffy roared, “because I thought it would be an advantage for the new Slayers to see a real vampire close up without having to keep one locked up in a cage. I thought you would have the good sense to not scare a bunch of little girls half to death with tales of monsters and demons and apocalypses and your past experiences with various Slayers.” She punctuated her last statement with a roundhouse kick to Spike’s stomach, followed up with a punch to the jaw, sending the him crashing into an easy chair, overturning it and winding up on his back on the floor.

Spike was back on his feet almost instantly, backing away from the Slayer, his hands out in front of him, open in a gesture of peace. “Okay, pet,” he said cautiously, “Maybe I laid it on a little thick, but I told ‘em nothing but the absolute truth, and even explained why I had a soul now and was all peaceful and everything. You know I’d never hurt one of our little ladies. I just wanted to…” He got no further before Buffy was on the attack again, her right foot lashing out in a low sweep, aimed at taking the vampire’s feet out from under him.

Spike saw the sweep coming, and jumped over it, taking the opportunity to step closer and grab the Slayer’s arm, tossing her over his shoulder to land butt first in the middle of the floor, then go sliding across the freshly waxed hardwood, into the little dining room, and come to a stop under the table. “Now, stay there, woman, while I try to explain.” Spike warned. “I’m not gonna stand this kind of abuse anymore, especially for just opening the eyes of a few inexperienced little girls. If you wanta talk about this like a responsible adult, we’ll get a whole lot more accomplished.”

The table went flying backwards to crash into the opposite wall as Buffy erupted out from under it, tackling Spike and sending them both back into the living room, cracking his head against one of the coffee table’s legs. “Bloody hell,” he yelped. “It’s bad enough you have to take your frustrations out on me, you don’t have to wreck all the furniture in the process.” He punched Buffy in the jaw, a short controlled blow, but it managed to rock her back far enough to allow him to get his knees up and flip her over his head to land hard on her back. Unfortunately, she landed on the already damaged coffee table, finishing its destruction. Spike had to scramble quickly out of the way to avoid having his head pinned under the resulting debris.

“Dammit,” Buffy croaked, trying to get air back into her lungs, “I really liked that table. Now I’m REALLY going to kick your ass.”

Spike was back on his feet now, balanced and ready for whatever the Slayer threw his way. “Well, come on then, COOKIE DOUGH.” He sneered, “Let’s see what you’ve still got after all these months of sittin’ on your ass behind a desk and lettin’ Faith do all the hard work.”

“You’re gonna need more than pig’s blood to recover from the beating I’m about to give you, Spike,” Buffy growled, coming to her feet and charging at the vampire. “You’re gonna have to get Willow to work some magic on your broken up carcass.” She launched herself at him like a guided missile.

Spike was ready for her this time, though, and he stepped aside as gracefully as a matador avoiding a bull, letting the enraged Slayer to careen past him. To aid in her progress, he planted one heavy boot square into her backside, sending her tumbling once more into the dining room, crashing head first into the overturned table. Up almost instantly, Buffy wrenched a leg off of the table and came at Spike swinging it like a Louisville Slugger. Her first swing missed the vampire as he danced back out of range. A lamp sitting on one of the sofa end tables didn’t fare so well, however, shattering in an explosion of bent metal and broken glass. “Strike one,” Spike laughed derisively. “You’ll never hit a home run swingin’ that wild, pet. You’re gonna hafta…AHH!”

Buffy’s second swing caught the vampire in the ribs, sending him crashing into the end table at the opposite end of the sofa, collapsing it under his weight. Spike grabbed the lamp as he was falling, however, and threw it at the Slayer, who batted it away into the kitchen with her table leg, destroying it as surely as she had its twin. “There’s a home run for you, Spikey boy.” She panted. “And now I’m gonna knock your head clear out of the park.

As she swung, Spike stepped in close, catching Buffy’s arms and using her momentum to execute a hip throw, sending her face first onto the sofa. Before she could recover, Spike was on top of her, pinning both arms behind her back and sitting across her legs, effectively immobilizing the little Slayer. “Now, pet,” he grinned in triumph, are you ready to calm down and discuss this problem like two adults?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, you…” Spike flipped her over onto her back and crushed his lips against hers, blocking off any further comment she might have made. Grabbing her shoulders, he rolled off of the sofa, pulling Buffy off and atop him, their lips still locked together in a passionate kiss. Her arms, now released from the vampire’s hold, pushed hard into Spike’s chest, trying to force him away, but slowly her struggles began to subside. Finally, with a soft moan, she stopped struggling altogether, bringing her arms up to encircle his neck, one hand stopping only long enough to run through his plastered down hair, releasing its curls. Spike uttered a low growl as his right hand trailed down between them, reaching for…


Much later, Buffy opened her eyes to sleepily survey the carnage that surrounded them. She rolled over, beginning to lay a trail of soft kisses from her vampire’s chin, down across his throat, and down onto his well muscled chest. “When did the building fall down?” she asked with a giggle.

“Must’ve been sometime between the third time, and the…” he chuckled.

“Of course, you realize, we missed the bed again…” Their laughter filled the house, and echoed out across the courtyard, where Faith and Willow sat studiously gazing the stars.

“Some folks have all the fun.” Faith grumbled.

“Not only that,” Willow agreed, “but some people just have no respect for furniture.” She looked curiously over at Faith. “Just what was it that Spike told those girls that got Buffy so upset, anyway?”

“He said that he’d known four Slayers since being turned, not counting the new crop that you had activated and Buffy was the best by far of all of them. Then he told them how if they were very lucky and developed to the absolute peak of their capabilities, they could hope to be maybe half as good on their best day as HIS Slayer was every day of her life. And if they managed to do that, they might manage to do a tenth of the good that she had done.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Well, no wonder she was so pissed.”




THE END





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