Author's Chapter Notes:
Inspired by a poem that Spike might have read as a young man.



“Will, this is unbelievable. Remember that piddley-ass work-study job in the admissions office that I had to take to qualify for financial aid? It wasn’t bad enough that they took most of what I made in taxes. Now they expect me to send in a stupid tax return too!” Buffy slumped next to Willow at a picnic table in the quad of UC Sunnydale, hands fisted in her hair and staring disconsolately at the crumpled envelop in front of her. “This WD-20 thingie says how much they’ve taken -- like I needed to be reminded that I ended up spending more on lattes to stay awake than I actually got to take home. I really don’t want to bother Mom, but how am I ever going to figure out how to fill out a big hairy tax form? Couldn’t I just slay something instead?”

Without lifting her eyes from her textbook, Willow replied. “Hey, Buff, I don’t think it’s that big a deal, really.” She scribbled something in her notebook and then looked up at Buffy. “I bet Giles has to do it too. I bet he has to do all sorts of tax paying and form filling and other stuff like that all the time. Just ask him what to do,” she said, returning to her studies, “I’m sure he knows.”

“You’re right. I’ll go see him at the Magic Box right after class. Hey, Will. I bet this is the first time a Slayer ever lived long enough to need to do a tax return! Something new for his Watcher’s journal. Could I be more boring?”

***

“Buffy! Stop whining for thirty seconds, and I’ll explain what you need to do,” Giles pleaded with the disgruntled Slayer. “You don’t have to fill out the long form. The short form will take you three minutes to complete if you have a W-2. Then you mail it in, and the IRS will send most of your taxes back to you in a few weeks.”

“Huh? They send me the money back? Why the hell did they have to take it to begin with if they are just going to send it back? This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. But, hell, I get the money back. Who knew? That’s so cool. Boy, I can really use some money. Thanks Giles, you are the coolest.” Buffy gave Giles one of her 1000-watt smiles, and although she had just spent the last ten minutes getting on his last nerve, he took one look and forgave her.

“Think nothing of it Buffy. All part of the Watcher’s duties, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks anyway. So, where can get the form?”

***

Minutes later, Buffy burst into the public library, asked the librarian for her tax form, and was directed to a table in front of the reference section. Buffy found the stack of forms, but within a moment of closing her hand on the desired item felt a familiar tingle on the back of her neck.

‘Well, well, well,’ she thought, ‘looks like I’m going to get to kill something after all. That’s just what this taxpayer ordered.' Buffy reached into her pocket for her stake and gleefully began to stalk her prey. ‘I guess one of my little vampire friends thought he might find a yummy snack in the stacks. Well I’ve got a little surprise for him. And I’m not sorry to say that it isn’t going to be the least bit tasty.”

Buffy moved silently around the perimeter of the room, glancing down each aisle of books as she passed. She could feel the tingles growing stronger as she closed in on her target smiling smugly to herself as she realized that she had the vampire cornered. Then, just before she moved in for the kill, Buffy caught a glimpse of a familiar head of platinum hair in the warm glow of a reading light.

She froze.

Her first reaction was frustration. ‘Oh crap! It's Spike! I thought I was going to get to kill something.' But that was quickly followed by curiosity, and she took a step back, dropping the hand holding her stake to her side and positioning her body so she could watch him without being seen. The picture he presented was certainly compelling. Spike projected the usual mega dose of masculine sexuality -- his posture simultaneously relaxed and taut. He leaned back in one of the library's oak armchairs, one foot on the seat of the chair next to it. He held a dark red book open in his hands, his eyes appearing half closed as he gazed intently down at the page. Buffy found herself transfixed by his eyelashes. ‘When did Spike get the long, thick eyelashes?’ she thought, ‘And his lips. Is he pursing his lips as he reads? Is that why they look so, what, plump?’

Suddenly aware that this was a rare opportunity to simply gawk at Spike without being on the receiving end of his typical snarky comments, Buffy settled in for a nice long look. Letting her eyes descend from his surprisingly full lips, Buffy took in the way his black T-shirt hugged the planes of his chest. Appreciating that, for once, his duster was nowhere to be seen, Buffy carefully assessed the way the sleeves conformed to the shape of his shoulders deciding that they left nothing of importance to the imagination. His arms looked like carved ivory from where she stood; tapered, graceful and strong. That area covered, she allowed her gaze to shift a little lower to where his shirt was tucked neatly into his pants. The silver buckle on his belt gleamed in the light from the reading lamp. The area immediately below that was obscured by the leg he had raised on the chair, but his black jeans clung nicely to his legs all the way down to his clunky Doc Martens. It was nothing she hadn’t seen countless times, and yet she’d never really noticed that her own personal pain-in-the-ass vampire was so perfectly proportioned and just plain hot.

'God,' she thought, 'I’m standing here totally ogling Spike. What is up with that?’ But even though she acknowledged the strangeness of it, she wasn’t done. Having finished the leisurely visual tour of Spike’s physique, Buffy took in the whole scene and realized that she’d never seen Spike so still. Even when he wasn’t pacing, Spike was a coiled spring. She was certain she’d never seen him this tranquil and calm. ‘He looks so comfortable,’ she thought, 'like he’s at home here.'

At that moment Spike turned the page, licking his lips deliciously as he fixed his eyes back on what he was reading. He showed no sign of leaving anytime soon, and Buffy couldn’t decide what to do. She didn’t really need to disturb him, but somehow just leaving the way she had come didn’t satisfy. Still, she had no idea what she could say to him and based on past experience, she fully expected him to do everything he could to embarrass her if he noticed she was there. Confused at her reluctance to simply go, Buffy was nonetheless preparing to leave when Spike suddenly lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes.

Tbc…
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Many thanks to the incomparable Addie Logan for giving me lots of great advice on this fic. Please review.





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