Squinting up at the faded sign, Buffy let out a long sigh. It was the third, or fourth if she counted the S&M store she didn’t even bother stepping into, that was hiring.
In her hands were two separate applications: one for a bar (definitely not) and another for a jewelry store (maybe.)
Warily, Buffy eyed the new store in front of her, unsure of the name ‘The Magic Box’. It seemed a little too spiritual for her, but the desperate need for a job and money won.
Stepping in, Buffy heard the bell jingle, and suddenly a head of long brown hair popped up from behind the desk.
“Oh!” The teen gasped. “Shit. Um, I’ll be right there. ” With the movements of a girl who hadn’t quite grown into her long legs, the teen ducked under the desk and walked up to Buffy.
“Hi. Welcome to The Magic Box, how can I help you?” She reiterated, flashing a wide smile.
“Actually, I’m here for the job opening,” Buffy replied, shifting her bag.
“Job opening,” the girl repeated, looking a little nervous. “I’m so sorry! My boss isn’t here right now, but I can give you an application.” Without waiting for an answer, the brunette raced back to the desk, knocking over a display in the process.
“Dammit!” The girl fell to the ground, picking up the fallen candles.
Feeling sorry, Buffy bent down to help her.
“Oh god, thank you. I’m such a freakin’ klutz. This is the third display I’ve knocked down this week. God, my dad is gonna kill me,” the girl bemoaned.
“Your dad?” Buffy couldn’t help but ask with a puzzled look.
“Well, not kill me,” the brunette conceded, “but I’m so gonna be spending my weekend alphabetizing 20-pound Sumerian tomes.”
Glancing around, Buffy took a leap and guessed that the girl’s father owned the store. “Your dad’s your boss?”
With a roll of her eyes, the brunette stood up. “Long story. Anyway,” she continued, setting the last of the candles on the desk, “let me get the application.”
Buffy watched the slender teen disappear into a back room. She took a moment to study the books on display, running her eyes over the titles.
Magick for Beginners…Love Potions for the Experienced Witch…Eye of Newt: History of Witchcraft…Demonic Forces in the Modern World…
Frankly, the titles were a little more than strange.
“Here,” the girl had reappeared, a light blue slip of paper in her hand. “The number’s on there, so if you have questions, just call.”
“Okay, thanks,” Buffy gave her a fleeting smile.
“I’m Dawn by the way,” the girl said, holding out her hand.
Instead of saying her name, Buffy just shook the slim hand. “Nice to meet you.” Quickly, she backed out, hearing the bell jingle once more.
Returning to wandering down the main street, Buffy looked down again at the sheets in her hands, telling herself, again, that any job was better than none—except for her last one.
She shuddered a little at the memory of the darkened building with grimy walls and sticky floors. It had been a strip joint where, thankfully, Buffy had only been a bartender/waitress. Unfortunately, drunken men had a trouble discerning her from the nearly naked women on stage, and would paw at her with meaty hands.
It had only lasted a couple weeks and got her the quick cash she needed, but it’d seemed to last forever.
Buffy heard her stomach growl, and she blinked, looking around for a place to eat. Tilting her sunglasses down, she spotted a familiar place simply called FOOD in neon lights. If she remembered correctly, they served cheap, but fairly tasty burgers.
The blast of air-conditioning sent goosebumps across her skin as Buffy stepped in. At the counter, she placed her order with a pimple-faced teen.
“D-do you want anything with your burger?” The boy stuttered a little.
“Nope,” Buffy replied, snatching a packet of ketchup.
He slid a red, school-style tray at her and smiled, revealing a mouth full of braces. “Enjoy your lunch.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled in reply.
On her tray was a burger and empty fountain cup, as requested. She filled the cup with Diet Coke and sat down in the back corner.
Her mood improved slightly after the first few bite of her burger. It was even better than she remembered.
Swiping at her mouth with her napkin, Buffy leaned back, feeling more satiated than she had in a long time.
In recent years, greasy or fatty indulgences had depleted as her relationship with Riley grew. He was a wholesome, military man complete with vitamins and early morning runs. They were near opposites in terms of their lifestyles, but Buffy had been willing to make the adjustments.
And now she was alone again, and determined to find herself—whatever, whoever that was. Maybe that was why she’d come back to Sunnydale. Once it had been a part of her, just like her life with Riley in New York and LA.
Crumpling up the wrapper, Buffy stood up and deposited her tray on the shelf. With her somewhat cleared mind, she decided to head back to the motel and pay for a few more nights with the rest of her money, and then fill out the applications.
Buffy slipped her sunglasses back on, looking at the world through a black-tint. Her movements were brisk, a change from earlier. Her golden hair fluttered, ripping in the breeze.
At the street crossing, she stopped, tapping her foot impatiently.
Then she heard it.
A voice, slightly accented and rough, and as familiar as her own called out in stupefied disbelief.
“Summers?”
Buffy could feel her heart lurch and clench. Swallowing hard, she turned. “Hello, Spike.”
He looked exactly the same, yet not. His hair was still bleached blond-white, but a little shorter, his clothes were all black, but minus the holes. His face was the same, but a little more worn and older, but that was what ten years did.
Scrutinizing her, his sharp blue eyes narrowed. “I called, you know.”
“I know,” Buffy replied in a rare moment of honesty.
There was a pause, uneasy and uncomfortable, but he broke it with so few words.
“What’re you doin’ here?
The question was gigantic, monolithic, and there was no simple answer.
So, Buffy shrugged, giving a safe answer and a lie. “Business.”
“Right,” Spike drawled. She knew that tone of voice; he didn’t believe her.
Glancing down at her metal watch, Buffy spoke, “I-I actually have to go.” She moved to leave, but Spike stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Summers, wait.”
She jumped back at the touch, shaking her head. “I really need to go.”
“Would you at least give me your bloody number?” He demanded, almost angry.
Buffy put more distance between them and pretended not to hear. “I’m sorry, I can’t be late.” She could feel his eyes burning into her skull as she turned her back to him.
She walked faster, her arms pinned to her sides, her head ducked low. She didn’t slow down until she was outside the motel, its dirty white door in her sight.
As she slipped inside, Buffy realized she was shaking a little from the tension in her, the apprehension that if she turned around, Spike would be right there behind her.
(A/N: Yep, it's a little shorter, but Spike showed up)