“How are you doing?” Dawn poked her head around the study door.
“Hey, Dawnie.” Willow looked up from the heavily book-laden desk with a tired smile. “Oh, you know. Research.” She stretched and yawned. “What time is it?”
“Lunchtime. Came to see if I can get you anything.”
“Where are the others?”
“Buffy and Giles are preparing something alarming in the kitchen. Rumour has it it’s lunch and it’s called toad-in-the-hole. Andrew has taken himself off on some mystery assignation. Spike hasn’t surfaced yet.” Dawn frowned. “He went out again last night.”
“Well, creature of the night and all. Not so surprising.”
“No, I guess. It’s just… he seemed kind of upset. I hate seeing him like that.” She sighed unhappily. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
“I know it’s hard, but it’s all for the best. No point in upsetting Buffy and stirring things up right now – let’s just do what Giles suggests and keep it calm and wait until we know more.”
“I guess.” Dawn sounded less than convinced. “But Andrew is gonna explode with the effort.” She peered over Willow’s shoulder at the heavy tome spread on the desk. “How are you getting on?”
Willow shrugged. “I’m learning stuff. Problem is, more I learn the less I like it. I seem to be relentlessly heading towards the conclusion I’m gonna have to do something I really don’t want to do.”
“Like what? Dangerous stuff?”
“No, not so much dangerous, leastways not initially, just…” She shrugged. “Let’s just wait, huh? I’m gonna finish going through these texts, then I think I need to go back and see the coven, get a little witchy-type advice.”
“So soon? You’ve just got here!”
“Oh, I’ll be back quicker than you can say antidisestablishmentarianism.”
Dawn grinned. “I haven’t a hope of saying antidisestablishmentarianism.” The smile faded. “Willow, you will sort this out, won’t you? It’s gonna be OK?”
“Oh, Dawnie, it’s going to be fine.” Willow stood up and hugged Dawn. “Buffy’s going to be fine.” She frowned. One way or another. “Feel like going to see what lunch turned in to?”
“Maybe. I guess Giles didn’t mean real toads, did he? And holes in what? I mean, that’s like some strange British analogy or other, isn’t it?” Dawn looked at Willow worriedly.
“Hey, who knows?” Willow smiled. “The French eat frog’s legs after all.”
“Yeww…” Dawn grimaced. The two women made for the kitchen. “So are you gonna come along to the Council offices later? See the fun?”
“What fun?” Dawn and Willow wandered into the steam-filled kitchen. There was clearly some sort of altercation going on - a red-faced Buffy was glaring at a smirking Spike while Giles rolled his eyes in despair.
“I am so gonna kick your ass.” Buffy growled at Spike.
“Not if I kick yours first.” Spike grinned.
Dawn raised her eyebrows at Willow. “That fun.” She sighed.
******
The Council training room had just about everything a slayer-in-training could ever need. There was gymnastic equipment, punch bags, a wide array of different weapons – you name it, it was there. The room was tastefully decorated, with nice, easy-clean sprung wooden floors – which Buffy had seen rather too much of in the past half hour. And here she was again, examining the wood-grain from a distance of around about a centimetre, flat on her stomach, nose pressed to the floor, with Spike pinning her down from behind. This was getting embarrassing.
“So, that was you showing them what not to do, right?” She could hear the grin in his voice.
Annoying, smug, irritating… she gritted her teeth “Oof!” Anger gave her the edge and she pushed back, managed to unbalance him, and surged to her feet. He was up too, balanced, poised with almost dancer-like grace. He was quick, strong (well, naturally – vampire), and he had the most annoying ability to read her moves, even before she’s figured them herself. She wiped a stray lock of hair back from her face. Good grief! She was sweating, almost certainly red-faced with effort, and there he stood, cool as an undead cucumber, grinning and giving her the come on. I am so gonna kick his ass, she thought as she launched another series of kicks. But she honestly felt she was kidding herself; it really had been too long since she trained if a stupid vampire could…
And he had her again, her arm twisted up behind her back, his arm pinning her back against him, his mouth close to her ear. “C’mon, pet. You’re trying too hard. Relax a little – let it come from inside. Use those famous slayer instincts we all keep hearing about.”
She stopped struggling and relaxed against him, and felt his grip loosen. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You think I should be a bit more…” and suddenly she was coiled steel, whipping around, catching him off guard. A few well-aimed punches and she had him unbalanced as he blocked her. One more and he was down, flat on his back, with her straddling him, stake pressed against his chest. “..like this? And don’t call me ‘pet’.”
“OK, love. No ‘pet’.” He grinned up at her.
“Well, I still say Spike wins that one on points.” Dawn was leaning against the wall, arms folded.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Buffy grinned down at him savagely. “I think I have the point that counts.” She pushed the stake against him until he winced. “Aww… Giles, lemme dust him.”
“Loathe as I am to say this, I think he’s shown us at least one aspect of his usefulness. I don’t think you’ll find a better sparing partner.” Giles stood next to Dawn.
“He’s not bad.” She shrugged, keeping eye contact with Spike. “For an evil undead guy.”
Spike’s jaw tightened as he fought back a surge of hurt. Keep it down. “Best you’re ever gonna get, slayer.” He managed to keep his tone teasing.
“Oh, in your dreams!”
He lifted his head and looked pointedly down to where Buffy’s hips were straddling his. “You’d be surprised what I dream.”
Buffy blushed and got quickly to her feet. “OK, so he can fight a bit.” She frowned as Dawn held out a hand to Spike to help him up. “I’m sure there are plenty of other people I could spar with.”
“Such as?”
“Well, there’s…” Buffy hesitated. “I don’t know! Maybe one of the new slayers…”
“Are you done now?” Andrew’s head appeared around the door. “It’s just, I need to do a bit of training…”
“Training.” Buffy looked at him in disbelief. “You want to train?”
“Yes.” Andrew came into the room, resplendent in pristine martial arts uniform. “I need to practise. I’m learning to follow the Tao, the way of Nature. Only thus can a practitioner be in harmony with the Universe, and himself. My Shaolin master says one cannot pay to learn this art; it is only acquired by the desire to learn, the will to discipline one's self, and devotion to practice.” Andrew folded his arms and bowed. “And if I don’t practice, that’s fifty pounds a session wasted.”
“You have a Shaolin master?” Giles raised an eyebrow.
“Well, as of a couple of hours ago. He says I show much promise.” Andrew struck a pose. “I will be the black tiger. I will learn to ride the wind. And then the vampyr will fear my wrath. Oh,” he looked sheepishly over at Spike, “except for Spike, or course.” His face brightened. “Perhaps we could train together!”
Spike gave him a bemused frown. “Not much with the Bruce Lee.”
“I could teach you.”
“Oh, now that would be fun to watch!” A smile twitched the corners of Buffy’s mouth. “Go for it!”
“You were the one lookin’ for a sparring partner.” Spike backed away from Andrew rapidly. “Besides, didn’t you say you wanted me to take a look at something?” he turned to Giles.
“It could wait.” Giles said hopefully.
“No, it couldn’t.” Spike glared at him. “Now would be a good time.”
They left Andrew practising “fierce tiger leaping over wall” to Dawn’s muttered comment of it looking more like “frightened kitten jumping onto a cushion” and followed Giles to the library.
******
The library was an eclectic mix of ancient and modern. Dark wood book shelves lines the walls, some filled with large, dusty tomes, although many were empty. Glass fronted display cabinets housed both strange and mundane articles, arranged in no obvious order, but clearly classified by some arcane system. Against this traditional background, sleek modern desks held state-of-the-art computers.
“Oh! Books! This’ll be the library, then.” Buffy stated the obvious. “Do you have a fiction section?” She wandered over to the shelves and started reading the spines of the books. “Bardo Thodol… Who was she?” She looked at Giles hopefully.
“Ah, actually it’s the Tibetan Book of the Dead.”
“Oh! That sounds like a barrel of laughs.”
“Wow! Would you look at this!” Dawn ran her hand over a monitor appreciatively. “Cool library!”
“It’s coming along.” Giles looked fondly at the books. “Of course we lost a good many important texts when the old Council was destroyed, but we have many items still in storage, and we are managing to source replacements in some cases.”
“And computers!” Dawn sat down and called up a search engine. “Can you Google demons now?”
“As you say, computers” Giles winced. “It seems we must move with the times.”
“Not short of the odd bob or two, then?” Spike prowled the library, peering into the cases and testing the locks.
“We were… well insured. And we have benefactors.” Giles said carefully.
“Oh, I’ll bet you have.” He pointed to a carved artefact in one of the cases. “Did you buy that? Because if you did, you were done, mate. Any idiot can see it’s a fake. I mean, who’d paint it green?”
“Ah… well, it was…” Giles shook his head. “About that text.” He moved over to one of the desks, rummaged through a pile of manuscripts and papers and brought out a dog-eared document. “Give us the benefit of your knowledge.” He held it out to Spike.
“Well, it is Fyarl. You should know, you’ve been one.” Spike glanced at the paper.
“We know it’s Fyarl. But the translation makes absolutely no sense. It’s complete gobbledegook.” Giles sighed heavily and sat down at one of the desks.
Spike took the document and studied it, frowning. “What dialect are you using?”
“Dialect?”
“Yeah, dialect. Fyarl’s got about half a dozen.”
“Call yourself scholars?” Dawn put in with a grin. “Don’t you know that?”
“Clearly not.” Giles said icily.
“Well, this is written in one of the Ngyisdh dialects, isn’t it? So if you use the standard Fyarl it’s no bloody wonder it doesn’t make sense.” He handed the document back to Giles.
“Ah. And do you speak this Ngyisdh dialect?” Giles asked hopefully.
“Me? No.” Spike shrugged. “And you’ll be lucky to find anyone who does. That branch of the family died out years ago.”
“Oh.” Giles looked at the document unhappily. “Well, that’s rather a pity.”
“Shouldn’t worry. You know the Fyarl – all big with the strength, but not so much with the brainpower. It’s probably just a list of stuff they want to crush or something.”
“It’s just… our source told us it might be of use in solving a small problem we’re having.” Giles frowned.
“Let me guess. This source… demon? And you paid him right?” Spike snorted. “Deserve all you get, then.”
“Well, you should never trust a demon.” Buffy leaned against a bookshelf, arms folded, and looked directly at Spike. “I never would.”
Giles frowned thoughtfully. “We really could do with a reliable source. Someone with his finger on the … ah… pulse so to speak.” He looked at Spike appraisingly.
“What? Me?” Spike looked at him in disbelief. “You want me to spy for you?”
“Well, you’d only need to do what comes naturally. Hang about in bars, play snooker or whatever it is that passes for socialising among you demon types. Just keep your ear to the ground; let us know of any rumblings.”
Spike considered. “I’d have expenses.”
“We’d naturally supply you with necessary expenses.”
“Expensive expenses.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“And no kittens.” Dawn looked up from the computer monitor with a frown. “If he asks for kittens, just say no.”
“OK. You’re on.” Spike held out his hand. “Give.”
Giles gave him a pained look and took out his wallet. He picked out a few notes and laid them on Spike’s outstretched palm. Spike looked at them and sneered. Giles sighed and emptied his wallet. “And I’ll need receipts.” He said, with no real conviction.
Spike grinned. “Right. Off to see what the low life of old London town are up to. Pip pip.” He turned to go.
“I’m coming with you.” Buffy stepped away from the bookcase.
Spike snorted. “You are not!”
“Am so. I want to start getting a feel for the demons round here. See what else I’m up against.” She gave Spike a challenging look. “So. Like I said. I’m coming with you.”
“You’re the bloody slayer! How well do you think that will go down!”
“Ah, yes, but no-one here knows me yet. What better time? Next argument?”
“Giles, tell her it’s a stupid idea.” Spike turned to the watcher for support.
“It’s a stupid idea.” Giles said, with no confidence it would have the least effect on Buffy’s decision.
“Cool! Let’s go, demon boy.” Buffy made for the door. Spike gritted his teeth and followed her.
“Oh! Me too!” Dawn stood up eagerly. With perfect orchestration everyone turned to her and delivered a perfectly synchronised “No!”
Dawn pouted. “It is so not fair! When can I go to demon bars?”
“When you’re… never.” Buffy turned to Giles. “Take her home. Get Willow to do a binding spell if necessary. I’m not sure I approve of the company she keeps when she’s let out on her own.” She flicked a glance at Spike. “OK. Let’s go see what delights the night has to offer us.”
******
Spike followed Buffy out into the street. “So, you’re gonna just stroll into a demon bar? You ever consider it might be a bit risky?”
“Well, it’s not like I’ll be on my own. You’ll be there.” Buffy shrugged.
Spike looked at her levelly. “And you trust me to protect you?”
“I…” Buffy paused. She hadn’t even thought about it – it just seemed somehow natural to assume that he would. But now she did think of it… she barely knew him; she had no real idea of his motivations, no reason to believe he was less likely to turn on her than any of his kind, and, let’s face it, he’d just beaten the crap out of her in the training room. She felt a rush of confusion. Despite what she’d said to Giles, she had been willing to trust him without question. She looked up at with a puzzled frown. “Well…” She shook her head to clear it. Go with it. Put it down to slayer instinct. Just keep your eyes open… “You’d better, because my little sis would come after you, and possibly Giles if he can tear himself away from his books long enough.” She kept her tone light, masking her sudden unease. “Oh! And I’ve got Mr. Pointy. Lesson the first – a slayer must always reach for her weapon.” She took the stake from her pocket and twirled it expertly.
Spike drew a sharp breath at her words. I’ve already got mine…
“What?” Buffy looked at him in confusion. “I’m not gonna stake you. Leastways, not yet.”
“Nothing. It’s just…” he shook his head. “No matter. OK. Let’s go. But when we’re in the bar, you do exactly what I tell you.”
“Hey, I’m not…”
“I said exactly.”
“Do I get to put conditions on that?”
He shot her a sly grin. “No.”
She frowned at him. “I’m not sure I like the sound of this.” she said suspiciously.
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