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It was finally time. The night she and Spike had set for their first training session. She didn't know why she was going. Except she had told him she would when he looked at her with those dreamy blue eyes.

The address led her to what seemed to be an abandoned warehouse. There were no lights on, just candles spread about in a large rough circle. In the middle of the circle was Spike barefoot in his jeans and t-shirt.

He wasn't idle. In his hands he had a wooden staff which he twirled about him expertly. She watched as he spun it around his body shifting his grip back and forth to strike at invisible opponents first with one hand, then with two.

Buffy had never seen anything like it. For the last year of her life she had spent most of her nights fighting for her life or training, but she had never watched anyone else fight or train. It was like a dance. Spike was all dangerous grace. Suddenly she wasn't quite as sure of herself. Sure she was the Slayer, but he was obviously a trained fighter.

"I see you found it pet," he said, pausing in his routine. He flashed her a smile that made her knees week.

This isn't going to work, she thought.

"You know, I'm not your pet."

"You're right, you're the Slayer," he said, putting down his staff and walking out of the circle of flames. "So ready for a little sparring, or do you want a chance to warm up first?" he asked.

"I don't need to warm up," there was no way she was going to let him know how unsure she felt. "So do we need weapons for this?" she asked.

"Nah, I just like them, they make me feel all manly," he said good naturally as she took off her shoes and socks to match him. Then he lead her into the circle of candles and fell into a fighters stance which she mimicked, "We're going to play a game of tag Slayer. Rules are simple, you try and touch me. If you succeed I'm 'it' and I try and touch you. You can block however without becoming 'it'. Got it?"

She nodded. For what seemed like an eternity they both just stood there, looking in each others eyes, sizing each other up. But according to the rules of Spike's game it was Buffy's move. She feigned with her right fist and struck with her left, but he didn't fall for it and backed out of her reach.

She tried a few more such experimental attacks, feeling him out, but he kept his distance. Then she decided to press the attack. She moved in close, instead of one punch at a time, she sent a rapid succession of punches. He could no longer simply dodge out of her way, but those blows he couldn't dodge, he managed to block.

It's not fair, she thought. She was scared to use her full strength. She didn't want to hurt him and she knew that even blocking could be painful if it was a powerful enough blow. Finally she managed to spin around him and hit his side.

He smiled at her. Then suddenly he was attacking her. He was fast, but Buffy was faster. On the other hand she was quickly realizing that defense was not her strong point. She had always been taught that the best defense was a strong offense. She had to remind herself that she wasn't allowed to attack, only to dodge, and it was throwing her off. In half the time that it had taken her to tag Spike, he had tagged her.

Back and forth they went. Each taking a turn. Soon Buffy stopped thinking about what she was doing and lost herself in the rhythm. To her delight the intervals when she was 'it' became shorter and shorter. Still she never seemed to be able to evade Spike's attacks for long.

She was enjoying herself. Fighting Spike was exhilarating. It made her kind of warm and tingly in places she wasn't quite ready to deal with. Then much to her dismay he called an end to the game.

"Tired?" she teased.

"I'm not the Slayer," he said, but he didn't look very tired, he wasn't even breathing very heavily.

"Well, it's a stupid game anyway. Restricting yourself like that, letting someone put you on the defensive."

"Lesson the first: There's always someone stronger and faster than you. When you fight them, you need to stay out of their way long enough to figure out their weaknesses. Lesson the Second: You are stronger and faster than most things you'll fight. That's not going to matter if you are sloppy and leave yourself open. So, let's see what we can do to keep you from telegraphing you're punches to the world, shall we?"

"Hey! I don't-" but he silenced her with a look.

For the next two hours they trained. Much to Buffy's disappointment, she didn't get to directly spar with Spike again. Still it wasn't all bad. More than once Spike stood close behind her, shaping her body to correct her stance. Where ever he touched her it seemed to spark, and butterflies would swarm in her stomach. She was tempted to purposely mess up just so he would touch her more, but her reward for impressing him was almost as good.

Unlike Giles or Merrik who always seemed unwilling to admit how good she was, Spike was as quick to praise her when she did well, as he was to criticize when she did something wrong. She felt hungry for his approval, for his smiles.

Finally he called it a night, went over to a cooler she hadn't noticed, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to her. Gratefully she accepted, guzzling down the water. She noticed that he only sipped his.

They sat down together to rest and she asked him, "So what's the deal. Did you go off to China and study martial arts in some secluded monastery for seven years?"

"I've been to China, but not to study. Monastery's not really my thing."

Looks like it's back to being cryptic guy, Buffy thought. Still she now knew he'd travelled, okay he was British and this was America, so obviously he'd travelled. Still Buffy couldn't help but wonder at what sort of far off exotic places he might have been to.

"What about this?" she said brushing her fingers over the scar on his eyebrow, "You're pretty good. Really good actually. So who got close enough to do that to you?"

"My ex, bad break up." he said looking away from her. Then he just got up and left. Disappearing into the darkness outside their small ring of fire.

Okay, thought Buffy, obviously hit a sore spot there.

*************************

Willow and Buffy made their way to an empty table at the Bronze.

"I thought Xander would be here by now," Willow said.

"Hmm, that'd make him on time. We couldn't have that," said Buffy.

"Did he seem upset at all on the bus back from the zoo?"

"About what?"

"I dunno. He was quiet."

"I didn't notice anything," Buffy said as they sat down. Then smiling at her friend, "But then again I'm not as hyperaware of him as, oh, say, for example, you."

"Hyperaware?"

"Well, I'm not constantly monitoring his health, his moods, his blood pressure. . ."

Willow grinned, "130 over 80!"

"You got it bad, girl!"

"He makes my head go tingly. You know what I mean?"

"I dimly recall."

"But it hasn't happened to you lately?"

"Not of late."

"Not even for a dangerous and mysterious older man who you meet for secret training sessions?"

"Just tying to be the best Slayer I can be," Buffy joked.

"Come on, Spike pushes your buttons. You know he does."

"I suppose some girls might find him good looking. . ." Willow shot her a look. ". . . if they have eyes, alright, he's a honey, but. . . it's just he's never around, and when he is, all he wants to do is talk about vampires, and. . . I, I just can't have a relationship. . ."

"There he is!"

"Spike?"

"Xander!"





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