The ‘training room’ as the gang called it, was centered to the back of the mansion and consisted of a space easily three times the size of a garage. One wall boasted a series of weights, ranging from twenty pounds to masses Buffy was certain no one could lift. Another wall was covered from top to bottom with numerous weapons that most certainly would have featured in the movies. Why do they need an axe that big?
Spike had insisted after a very late breakfast, that he begin her training, making an excuse that he needed a release. The man had grabbed a bundle of clothes from his closet and raced downstairs once more, only stopping when he reached heavy metal doors.
Buffy had watched as her lover pushed her into the wide room, talking about it the same way a child would about his favourite toy.
The floor was concrete, hard and unforgiving yet she noticed that mats normally used for gymnastics were leant up against the side door. When Spike’s hands reached up and took two down, she sighed in relief. At least I won’t bust my head open.
Though her life in LA had been fraught with the constant threat of danger, Buffy herself had never learned proper self defence. Her godfather Merrick had taken it upon himself to instruct her what little knowledge she could understand, but ultimately it had never been enough. As she had grown older, it had become more difficult for them to see each other and thus what little skills that could have flourished under his guidance, died. Her father was never told of the lessons. Hank had thought it ‘entirely inappropriate’ for a woman and enlisted bodyguards to watch her constantly instead. Buffy recalled fearing them instantly. Dark, heavy men in casual clothes had been her common accompaniment to school plays, social outings and every place imaginable. If they couldn’t go somewhere then cameras were used to watch for ‘odd characters’. Buffy had never truly understood her father’s words until a man had approached her. The memory was dim, Buffy being only six at the time yet she remembered the odd sound of his voice. She’d been skating at an ice rink with her bodyguard, Nathan, watching from the sidelines when the incident occurred. Neither Nathan, nor his partner Luke, had seen the man’s approach as anything unusual, and thus did not become concerned when he skated ever closer to her.
Buffy intent on some child’s game had been twirling in circles, when her left skate wobbled uncertainly. She paid no attention to the near fall the first time and continued to circle merrily, arms splayed wide in excitement. The second time she went over the pit, the toe of her skate dug into the gash and pitched her forward. Buffy was certain that she would’ve landed face first into the cold ice floor except for the hands which held her waist. Surprised at her close tumble, hazel eyes looked down to see the cause of her accident. A deep gash in the ice from some earlier stunt crossed the floor and trailed on for two feet. Her head shot back up as the stranger lifted her into the air as though to inspect her.
“Are you alright little one?”
Buffy nodded uncertainly. The man spoke oddly, his words coming out stiff and polished compared to the way her father sometimes talked. Despite this, it was slightly familiar. Buffy grinned back at her rescuer when she realised who he sounded like.
Merrick.
One hand moved to look at the earring which sat in his right ear with surprise. Only her mommy put jewellery on as far as she knew. Tilting her head forward, Buffy relaxed completely in the strong grip.
”Do you know my godfather?” she asked. It seemed like an entirely plausible question at the time. Anyone who talked like her godfather had to know him.
The man nodded, a grim expression crossing his face. “I’ve dealt with the blighter.” He tightened his hold around the girl’s waist, knowing that this was the one thing they all cared about more than anything else. Let’s see how they like losing all their money when she’s dead. “What’s your name?”
Buffy smiled immediately, proud that she could pronounce her full title. It had taken a while what with the need to give false ones if odd people asked. “Elizabeth Anne Summers-Masters” she replied. “But you can call me Buffy. What’s yours?”
The warm grin which the stranger had been sporting turned into a sneer. “Ripper” he responded coldly. “The gents call me Ripper.” He began to squeeze her ribs, knowing that it would only take a minute before she fell limp in his arms. Children always passed out quicker. “By chance, dove, does anyone ever call you the Chosen one?”
Scared she nodded dumbly. Buffy’s bottom lip trembled and tried to struggle out of the punishing grip. Her lungs were burning with the need for air. Desperately, she swung her skate upwards, kicking at the man’s chest and slashing the shirt open. Blood poured from the wound and on reflex the man dropped her. His hand immediately clutched at the increasingly soaked shirt and growled in frustration. Stupid bloody chit! He made a move towards the symbol of his former bosses when the lumbering slides of bodyguards sounded behind him. Too risky , he thought in anger. He would just have to pay Hank and the others back another way. Ripper didn’t once look down at the shaken girl he’d released, instead running off to the exit.
Thinking back, Buffy couldn’t recall Nathan and Luke ever catching the man.
Buffy jumped in surprise as Spike threw the mats onto the concrete floor. The bleached blond was the only person who truly protected her from anything and even he was nothing against the power of her past. It was only a matter of time before things came to a head and he would push her away. To do anything else would be suicide. Buffy resolved that when that day came she would be able to stand her own ground. Protect herself. The terror of that day when added to by Hank’s beatings had made her desperate to avoid future abuse. I’m tired of being the victim.
Taking a step forward, Buffy watched her lover bounce excitedly in anticipation. She had remained unsure of whether he would live up to his promise and teach her how to fight. Even offering to instruct placed him far above Hank in her esteem.
She smiled as Spike took a stand three feet in front of her, pulling his fists up in a classic fighting gesture. He swayed slightly on the balls of his feet, black sweatpants replacing the normal tight Levis. A white wife beater hung off a well muscled chest making Buffy stare in appreciation. No matter how well acquainted she had become with his body, the sight still left her breathless. Spike had been more than surprised when waking to find her head cradled on his thigh and ever since maintained a dopey smile on his face. Buffy could see the Brit struggling to banish it even now. His jaw ticked for a full moment before gesturing at her to take the same posture.
“C’mon pet, I haven’t got all bloody day.” Spike grinned as Buffy’s gentle mood vanished. He was intent on stirring her up. Part of it was because she was sodding gorgeous when pissed at him but also due to his belief that it would make her fight better. Some people were far better fighters when they remained calm. Isolating themselves from the immediacy of the situation allowed such people to perform better, target the right weaknesses. Anger simply made their punches widen and loose accuracy. The poofter was a perfect example of such a style. Unless the man became extremely irritated, there was not much anyone could do to best the git. Angel treated fist fights the exact same way he treated interrogation and torture: make the opponent sweat and bleed until they beg for death and then really hurt them. Peaches golden rule was to never loose his composure.
Unfortunately Spike excelled at driving the gang leader insane. Many considered it his greatest talent.
At first the bleached blond had been certain that Buffy fitted into the same category as Angel. In all the time that she’d been a student at Sunnyhell High there had never been an incident where she lost control or lashed out. If anything Summers melted into the garbling mass of teenagers in order to appear inconspicuous. Spike had no idea what her purpose could be but the fact remained that she had tried in the first place. An oddity in itself. He realised now that it was all a façade. The moment that she’d felt justly threatened, the bint had kicked both Angel’s and his shins to hell.
Spike swiftly moved back as Buffy aimed a kick at his face.
“Now that’s more like it!” He smirked at her with undisguised lust as she lunged for him with her fists. Kitten has claws. Spike slowly moved back from her onslaught, studying her fists as they came ever closer. She’s favouring her right too much. Azure eyes swept down her body before squinting in pain when a fist popped him in the nose.
“Bleeding hell that hurt!”
Buffy glared at him, small hands resting atop her hips as the ‘Big Bad’ bent over in pain. “That’ll teach you to check me out when I’m punching near your head.” She flung back her hair in mimicry of one of those hair shampoo adds. “Who knew that William the Bloody was nothing but a big girl?”
Spike immediately stood upright. “Take that back!” he said with just a hint of anger.
”Let me think about this. How about… no.” The petite blond watched in fascination as the vein along the bleached blonde’s jaw ticked in irritation.
“You’re playing with fire Summers.”
Buffy widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Really? I thought I was getting self defense lessons.” She stared heavenward, giggling inwardly when Spike growled at her actions. “I guess that I’ll just have to leave and find someone else to teach me.”
Spike jumped in front of her, halting any half hearted attempt to leave the training room.
“You sure you wanna dance pet?” The man’s eyes, light blue the colour of ice, bored deep into her, looking as though they could see everything that she desperately kept hidden. She shivered at the thought, noting that his voice carried a hint of seriousness and also incredible desire. “Once we start, I can’t hold back.”
Spike watched her hesitate, and couldn’t resist brushing his mouth against her ear. “You know you want to Summers, dancing with me would completely blow you away. New experiences with me always do.”
“But I thought that all we’ve ever done is dance.” Buffy’s voice came out soft and far more seductive than she had intended, which unfortunately Spike noticed.
The sweat pants he wore suddenly became too tight.
Cursing, the gangster backed away from her. “Touché pet. Now let’s see whether you’ve got the stones.”
Buffy lashed out with her left hand, hoping to knock off the smirk which appeared to be permanently etched onto his face. “Do I have the stones he asks”, her breath puffed out with her exasperation. “Of course I do… I have lots of stones.”
“I sincerely hope not Summers.” Spike blocked the oncoming attack before flipping backwards onto the second mat, “could become just a tad awkward in the bedroom, if you get my drift.” He fell to the ground gracefully as Buffy swung a full roundhouse kick at his chest. Chit’s good at this for a first timer. The Brit groaned as Buffy firmly kicked his shin. The woman may not know the finer points of combat but she could definitely win a fight using that foot of hers.
“What’s the matter Spikey? Are you hurting too much to continue?”
“No you bloody woman. Just wasn’t prepared to feel a Beckham inspired kick anywhere close to the jewels. Promise me that you won’t put that infernal foot of yours anywhere near the balls and chain.”
Buffy’s face twisted comically at Spike’s metaphor. “Ewwww… of course not.” Her mouth curved into a coy smile. “I happen to like the uh ‘balls and chain’.” She tried not to cringe at the way her words came out. She had never been good at flirting. Now was no exception.
She squealed in surprise as Spike tackled her to the floor, kissing her senseless. Small fragments of sentences came out as his mouth darted from her lips to her throat, ‘wonderful bloody women’ being repeated in alternating intervals. His hands threaded themselves into her hair, whilst the thumbs stroked her cheeks. Guess I’m not so bad at this innuendo thing after all she thought happily. Buffy gasped as Spike’s lips moved further down her chest, nibbling on the top of her breast.
“Will? Are you in here?” Angel’s voice broke the moment as Buffy quickly scrambled upright.
Spike looked just as annoyed as she felt, grumbling to himself yet doing nothing to hide the burgeoning erection he was sporting. Buffy blushed in embarrassment as the gang leader popped his head around the doorway. Maybe he won’t know what we’ve been up to, she thought desperately. Maybe Angel will think we were wrestling… Buffy ignored her inner voice which commented on her racing heartbeat and more than slightly damp panties. She could deal with the lusty thoughts later; right now she stared at a man who very nearly had claimed her as his. The red in her cheeks flamed as the large brunette made a wolf whistle.
You really have to stop hoping for miracles Summers.
“If I’d known you were busy I never would’ve interrupted William.”
Spike snorted, knowing that the wanker was lying. “Whatever you say Peaches, I can’t say that I haven’t done the same to you and the cheerleader.” He stepped in front of Buffy, shielding her from the inspecting gaze of Angel. “What is it that you want?”
The gang leader shrugged. “Just thought we could spar” he offered. “There hasn’t been much time to get down here and just fight, and well I need the exercise.”
“I can see that” said Spike before turning his back on the poofter and focusing all his attention on Buffy. Her lips were plump from his kisses and her golden hair was disheveled. Bloody interrupting wanker. “Are you alright with me and Peaches having a go at each other? I promise that we’ll finish up our lesson later.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, not bothering to hide the affection which welled in his eyes.
Buffy nodded, “as long as I get to watch.” She moved back to the far side of the wall as Spike grabbed both mats and settled them back in their previous positions. She had no idea how far they would go during this ‘practice’ but began to feel worried. Spike had nowhere near the same weight as Angel and could easily get pounded into the floor if he let the heavy brunette corner him.
Spike, detecting her worry, winked at her. Peaches could act like the leader all he wanted. In the end it didn’t really affect who could beat the other into submission. As long as he played his cards right the poofter would soon be laying on the ground bleeding.
It was a sight that Spike was certain he would never tire of.
The Brit turned his attention to his leader as Angel stalked into the room. The button down shirt was already half removed and prompted Spike to pull off his own white beater. Peaches must be pretty intent on kicking my ass.
Everyone had noticed the palpable tension which flowed throughout the house and wisely stayed away from him and the poof. The bleached blond would have been more than happy to return to their usual relationship of snark and brooding except for the fact that Angel kept trying to control his actions concerning Buffy. The car incident had opened his eyes to the wanker’s prominent jealousy and also fear. As long as Spike kept Buffy as his, Angel would continue to wheedle and manipulate the situation to best suit himself.
Spike would be buggered before that happened.
He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they began to circle one another.
“Have you missed me Peaches?”
Angel darted back as Spike aimed a flurry of punches at his chest. Already the Brit was trying to make him angry. Remain calm.
He wheezed as one connected right underneath his rib cage. “About as much as I love the IRS Spike.” Angel shoved his elbow into the smaller man’s jaw and grinned as Will’s head snapped back. “I think that it’s you who can’t live without me.”
Spike spat in contempt. Angel obviously thought that one lucky shot could completely unnerve him. “Whatever floats your boat. I’m not the one who has to resort to the sodding cheerleader for company.” He lashed out with one foot, spinning on his heel as it connected with Angel’s ribs. “Oh I forgot! She decided that she didn’t want a piece of you after that incident with Faith.”
“You know nothing about that.”
“Oh don’t I?” Spike rolled as Angel grabbed hold of his ankle, seeking to snap the bone.
“No” roared Angel. What had started as a way to release his anger was quickly becoming another of their famous clashes. Normally the whole gang would watch silently, not daring to shout out for their favourite. The brunette wiped away the blood which lobbed from a gash on his cheek. He was relieved that for once they could fight privately. It was an unspoken agreement between all the occupants of the room that Buffy would not breathe a word of their argument.
The gang leader never noticed Jacob slink into the room.
Buffy however did.
Hazel eyes stole a glance in the Irishman’s direction before quickly returning back to the sweating forms of Spike and Angel. She had not spoken to Jacob since the interrogation of Riley and was uncertain of how to react to him. Buffy was open to trusting people, despite obvious faults but his lust for bloodshed had frightened her.
How could a person go from being gentle and quiet one moment, to asking for another’s death the next?
The woman shuddered when Jacob walked over and leaned against the wall beside her.
It was hard for her to not classify a person as either good or evil. After her upbringing, the teachings of Merrick had been ingrained into her psyche. Men, like her father, or in similar business could not be trusted. By default that meant that her god father also was a subject of suspicion but neither Buffy nor Merrick had ever voiced the fact.
Now that she was once again caught in the same type of lifestyle, Buffy felt all her old fears come back to life. Jacob represented her father’s taciturn mannerisms in a way that was striking. The lust for violence only completed his mimicking of Hank. It was a struggle not to dismiss him and instead try to find some source of humanity.
“I’m sorry if I scared you.”
Buffy turned to regard the Irishman who stoically continued to stare at her lover and Angel.
“It wasn’t my intention, but I thought that you would be comfortable to deal with that side of the demon.”
Buffy looked at Jacob in confusion. “The demon? ”
“Aye. It’s a saying of Angel’s that we’ve all slowly adopted. In this line of business there has to be something inside that drives you to commit certain acts, otherwise you wouldn’t survive. Aureli likens it to a malignant force, a demon if you will. The name for Angel suggests that it’s not really him committing the deed.”
Buffy nodded. “What about you?”
Jacob struggled with the question for a moment, as though surprised that she had asked. “I think it’s a fairly dumb idea but have on occasion found myself partaking to the name. I know I’m a man, I will die soon enough and there’s no point pretending to be immortal. I think that is what messes with Angel so much. He’s constantly busy trying to amass wealth and not anger Masters and on top of all that there’s the constant threat to his life. The only way that he can release all that anger and frustration is to kill someone. By letting that ‘demonic’ part of him out, he’s able to keep a clear head. Every person has a darker nature to them. Not all can control it. Angel is one of those people who utilises it to make money.”
“Of course afterwards there’s always the womenfolk’s fear. Darla has learned to deal with it but that lass Cordelia? She’s not faring too well. The girl can’t seem to accept her notion of Angel with the one that slashes throats.” Jacob took note of Buffy’s horrified expression with a sigh. He hadn’t considered her being this naïve. “Why do you think he’s so well known? Angel has always liked seeing people suffer. Even has a reputation for special ways to do lads in. What he did to Finn that day was nothing compared to other instances. The only reason he stopped was because of your man Spike. And don’t think that the bleached captain is clean either.”
Buffy ignored the obvious lead in. Spike will tell me in his own time. “So in your frame of thinking, it takes a ‘special’ kind of person to be in a gang?”
“Not so much special as monstrous.” Eyes the colour of dead grass suddenly transfixed her. “What do you think?”
“I don’t really know”, admitted Buffy. She broke eye contact and decided that the ground was far more interesting to look at. “I haven’t really seen anything like what happened to Riley before.” The petite blond ignored her inner voice which screamed LIAR! “At least Spike controls his anger.”
Jacob laughed quietly at that statement. The Summers girl was so incredibly juvenile when it came to the man that shared her bed. “Look at him for a minute and tell me whether you really mean that.”
Buffy bit back her comment. Jacob was being oddly forthcoming and she wasn’t about to loose this precious chance, all because he was acting condescending. Obediently she took in the sight before her and shivered.
Spike had forced Angel to the ground, locking the man in a sleeper hold that was guaranteed to cut off his supply of oxygen. The larger brunette’s legs were slumped on the floor and only made sharp movements when Spike jerked Angel’s head. She could see a bloody trail that flowed down from the bleached blonde’s nose as a result of either a punch or head butt. Buffy could see Spike’s response in the other man’s face, with one eye swelled shut.
“Doesn’t look too calm now”, remarked Jacob. He could see that Angel was faltering and decided that this would be his last chance relatively alone with the girl. Spike had made certain that they did not converse after finding them seated together during Riley’s punishment. It was likely to be at least another month before he could talk to her again.
Pushing himself off the wall, Jacob watched as Buffy started to move towards the pair, no doubt intending to intervene. The Irishman grabbed hold of her hand, firmly holding it until she whirled to face him.
“What do you want now?”
“I have just one more thing to say.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. She had no idea what to make of Jacob O’Hara but one thing was for certain. He did not want her to be with Spike. She tapped her foot restlessly before snapping at him. “Spit it out!”
“He wasn’t always like that” said Jacob pointing over at Spike who had now released Angel and was looking in their direction. “It was Dru that changed him.” He noted with relish the questioning look which crossed over the girl’s features and decided that his work had been done. Just as easily as he had slid into the room, Jacob left, leaving a very uncertain Buffy staring after him.
Who the hell is Dru?
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I was kind of disappointed with the response to the last chapter I posted. I realise that it may have been boring but if it is, I would really like people to tell what I can do to change it. Hope this is interesting. Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed. New chappie will be posted soon.