[Reviews - 199]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2161 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey guys, thanks for sticking with this story, and thank you to those who reviewed! I hope you like this chapter :)
She needed a number.

Seriously, anything. A cell phone or house phone, an address. Something would be nice.

Spike wasn't at the library. It had only been two days since their... time, spent together at her house, the attic and the kissing and the 'Let's learn the history of Buffy's life' game.

And he wasn't at the library, hadn't been for the past two nights. The day right after being with him, she'd wanted- felt like she'd NEEDED, to come back. The place was practically calling her, she had already spent so much time away from it. After showing up every day for over a month, a week was a pretty long sabbatical.

Buffy thought she would see Spike there, but he never showed. Then, the absence of his presence the following day had started Buffy thinking he might be avoiding her. She kept trying to tell herself that he wasn't, that he was busy or something. Anything but allowing her usually untrusting nature to take charge and cause a great big hole of disappointment in her heart.

Now it was the third day, and she was trying to convince herself that she was totally NOT worried.

She just wanted a number.

Buffy groaned, flopping her head forward into the open pages of her book. She had gotten through only half of this novel in the three days since she'd chosen it.

Three days, and she still wasn't finished.

It was insane. She always read a book quickly, always. Hardly ever did it take her more than a day to read a novel from start to finish. Yet Spike, and the antagonizing thoughts of him and the trying to ignore the doubts which said he was avoiding her, were taking up precedence in her brain.

Buffy sighed to herself. It wasn't like he'd said he would see her at the library, she'd simply assumed. But thinking he would show up here wasn't crazy in the least. It was their spot, the place they'd met and spent the most time together. Maybe with recent developments it could be strained at first between them, but that was pretty hard to believe.

They would probably just talk and hang out. Or maybe they'd sit close while they both read quietly. Either way, she missed having him around. She liked solitude but now the library's third floor just felt bare.

Running a hand through her hair, Buffy looked around the silent room. She was being ridiculous. She felt she knew Spike, he hadn't acted like someone running scared from her the other night.

If he did manage to change his mind sometime after he'd left her, realizing that he didn't need a dejected head case with trust issues in his life, then Buffy had sorely misjudged him.

She felt she hadn't. In her heart of hearts, even with these worries jumping out from all corners, she believed he wasn't running away from her. He wouldn't.

And she shouldn't care so much if he did.

Buffy groaned again, an empty room the only listener to her aggravation and worry. She shouldn't be so preoccupied thinking about him. She wasn't one of those desperate girls who sat by a phone waiting for the guy to finally call when he wanted to; IF he decided to.

And this wasn't even the same situation. Spike and her were not 'labeled' or dating. They'd shared some kisses... Close, invading, pulse racing kisses; but kisses all the same. They were just lip locks, even if they felt like more. He didn't owe her a thing.

Yet he'd promised to be there for her. To lean on. To talk with.

*He might've changed his mind.*

Buffy shook her head of the thought. She had to stop obsessing. NOW. It had only been two freaking days! It didn't mean he was dropping her. And if he was, then... that was okay. She didn't... She didn't need him. If her doubts were correct, then she'd live. She'd be hurt, but what else was new. She could deal.

"Real 'glass half full' there, Buffy," she said to herself, rising from her seat and standing to stretch. She was being crazy. She shouldn't even be doubting him, it had been less than, how many hours were in three full days? Right. Seventy-two. It had been less that seventy-two hours and she was wigging.

Sitting down again, tucking her bare feet beneath her knees, Buffy promised herself she would calm down. She'd give him time. There was nothing pressuring either of them to seek one another out. Spike probably had a job, he had a life, she was sure he had things to deal with that didn't always include the library. She hadn't asked him what he did for a living, or about his daily habits, and she couldn't be assuming the worst just because she hadn't seen him in a couple of days.

Speaking of jobs. Buffy figured she should probably look for one. As much as she loathed the idea.

Oh, GOD how she loathed it. But sooner or later she would most likely need one, and right now, Grams was suggesting it. Not cruelly, or to get Buffy out of the house, but literally just suggesting. She knew that her Grams wouldn't nag her about it or force her, but the woman was (unfortunately) right. And Buffy knew that, too.

Looking for one in town was probably the best option. *I can see it now. Handling myself with lots of people, possibly friendly ones who like to chat about the plans for their daughters' birthday parties and their busy schedules. Working as a waitress? Yeah, how great.*

Maybe she could get a job at Pretty Penny's, if not at that diner in town. She could waitress. She'd done it before a few times in California. She didn't want to, but she doubted anyone else was looking for employees anyhow, the stores were all small and had enough workers she was sure.

She wasn't too keen on the idea of learning how to be a checkout girl, anyway; or gaining any other new skills. She knew waitressing. She could do it, quick and efficiently, and maybe even be able to wear a headphone in one ear while she went from table to table... Okay, that was most likely grasping at straws, but she could fake smiles like a pro.

Buffy's ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. She needed to do this. She didn't want to, but she had to. Not because it might help her calm down and focus better around people, but because she needed to start saving more money for herself. And a job was the best way to do that.

But for now she was just going to try and read her book. The last two nights had been rough, with many nightmares bustling in and waking her up. She was tired and wanted to read, to escape for a little while. Not think about jobs or possibly pretend issues with Spike.

She took a deep breath. Looking down, her eyes started scanning over the words written in simple computer print, and as the real world tuned out, the warm air in the library draped over her in a blanket of comfort. She started to relax. Her shoulders dropped and a smile touched her lips at a funny line the main character spoke. A beat of Buffy's heart, the next page flipped, not a noise following behind.

Footsteps suddenly started up the stairs. Her head involuntarily looked up and she sat with a stiff spine, listening for a familiar approach and the creak of wood beneath Doc Martens.

Until a stranger emerged and headed to the restroom.

Buffy huffed.

This was going to be a long day.

><

They'd gotten in last night. Rex was late, as were the rest. Blake, Dylan, and Ace's flights had all been longer than expected, and their drives from airports to MayBell tedious. The blokes had passed out the second they'd hit Spike's living room floor, which was covered by an old queen mattress with sheets and pillows.

It wasn't a surprise. They may be strong and could sometimes go longer without sleep than mere humans, but each had stayed up for their entire travels (Rex having actually flown himself).

So you understand why none of them had barely even uttered a greeting before tugging off their shoes and shirts, and collapsing on whichever soft surfaces were directly available.

Stevo had laughed while looking down at the half-dressed forms of their comrades. "You better have food for them when they wake up."

"I went shoppin yesterday for the bloody vultures, got everythin worth spendin on and some stuff I just swiped. We should have enough for now."

Stevo gave him a funny look. It wasn't reproachful, but more amused. Spike knew he wasn't even thinking about the stealing comment, for Stevo was no stranger to taking what he wanted if it was convenient. He was thinking about something else.

With an eyebrow quirk, the gypsy stated, "You sound annoyed."

Spike gave an obvious sniff of affirmation., but said nothing. In truth he wasn't all that angered by his mates' presences. On the contrary,- though the circumstances blew -he admitted he'd actually missed them.

But right now he was missing someone else.

"What, you had better plans than housing a group of friends?"

Spike sighed. "It's not them, ya moron. Just the bloody vision m'thinkin about."

Stevo nodded, unknowingly accepting a half-truth.

The night quickly moved to its end after that. Spike went to bed as the sun arose, hoping sleep would continue helping to heal his ribs, and Stevo (who had the guest bedroom) conked out not too long before that. The vampire and gypsy were the first two up come four PM, and their friends were still asleep.

Well, three of them were. One was found in the kitchen.

"Morning, guys," said Dylan, the half-Brachen demon and youngest of the group. He was the epitome of kindness this bloke, even looked the part. Dark blonde hair and friendly brown eyes, his complexion light and his build powerful yet compact. You'd never guess he hid a demon face of green skin and spikes.

He was a bit taller than the vampire in the room but shorter than Stevo, a bookworm with glasses to go; his demeanor presenting a man of both greeting and shyness. Sometimes Spike wondered how he ended up sticking around in the group, he wasn't the least bit mischievous like the rest of the men, and not even close to evil like Spike was. He was intelligent beyond belief, soft spoken unless it came to theories, and had a silent laugh that made it so only his friends or the most observant of people could tell when he was amused.

And he was currently sitting at the table typing like a pro on a computer.

Spike just raised an eyebrow, while Stevo went to the refrigerator and squeezed Dylan's shoulder in silent greeting on the way over.

Stevo wasn't a morning person, so he wouldn't stop grunting in replies or commence talking until he'd had his coffee. Which, the gypsy was currently making.

Spike was usually a bundle of energy anytime of the day, more alert with blood fresh in his system. Right now though he was just trying to figure out how long Dylan had been at that laptop. The man could spend days on the thing going through data or researching.

"Have you even eaten yet?" Spike asked with a frown.

The half-mortal shook his head. "Went straight to the web. I've been doing research for about an hour. Although if you're making it, Stev, could I get some coffee?"

The gypsy grunted, setting the percolator pot on the stove. Spike just shook his head, walking to the fridge and retrieving a bag of O-neg. He popped it in the microwave and glanced at the taller tanned skinned man to his left. Stevo's face was covered by his hand, trying to shut out the light coming in from the kitchen window. His black hair was mussed and hanging over his eyes, the tired look of the human not matching his fit and healthy stature. Damn but the guy wasn't any good at all without caffeine.

Spike didn't drink coffee often, however, he felt like he might need a cup himself. Once the others got up, the day was going to be one giant headache; filled with trying to figure out that vision and maybe hunting down Flora if they had the time.

It would be exhausting. There would probably be food runs into town a couple of times, plenty of arguing, and perhaps even a power nap for one or two of them. The research could get ridiculous, the theories and ideas for what the big picture might be becoming heated debates.

Trying to work with these men was immensely frustrating, and almost impossible, but they always managed to get the job done. Not because they felt it was their duty of course, none of them (except for Dylan) were very kind or selfless.

Stevo had never caused harm to any human, but he didn't abide by many rules. He cared about his clan, everyone outside of it had to follow their own path and deal with their own lives; but he was obliging to those who sought his help.

Ace, an immortal half-demon, had gone through an evil streak hundreds of years before. The natural dark power of his father swimming in his veins had given Ace the desire to spill blood. Then, around the 1300s, he'd apparently turned over a new leaf after meeting a person who'd been related to his mother. The girl had breathed a sort of a conscience into him, he said; though it wasn't quite as effective as a real one, and he liked it that way.

Rex was a killer, born a predator, but had stopped eating humans about three or four centuries back. He'd decided that the grief families felt after he'd kill a loved one was starting to ruin the meals for him. Now he stuck to animal meat, sometimes being the hunter and sometimes just going to the store and buying a steak. He was hot-tempered and didn't have much patience, but the guy was basically good, he just stayed that way for selfish reasons. He'd never admit to going soft.

Then you had Blake, the walking erection. His life was sex, and asides from just being a rather selfish bugger and needing to learn the maturity he had now over time (very little of it, mind you), he was also basically good, but still lacking a true conscience.

The only thing that had gotten this group of mostly self-interested superbeings working together on occasion to keep the world in tact was the same thing that had originally united them: Drusilla.

Her visions. She only got sent certain ones, they weren't regular occurrences. Presumably from the Powers That Be, and always important, they had led Stevo to Spike. The gypsy had already known the other men from past experiences, and acquaintances and friendships had been built by the time Spike entered the picture. Dylan was the last member to come around in 1910.

Several threats of the impending apocalypse had been sent to Drusilla over the years, most often involving relatives or connections to one of the men in their little group. She got those straggler visions too, the ones that weren't telling of any real threat. And then sometimes there was a completely random demon getting too close to unleashing hell on Earth.

Stevo, Spike, and the rest, had ended up saving the world many times over; and if it weren't for the fact they had a mutual agreement that Armageddon would suck, then Earth could very well have been resting at hell's feet by now.

The last vision involving Spike hadn't been anything tremendous. Actually it was more of a little note, really. The only thing it did was lead Stevo to the vampire, nothing more. Maybe the Powers had known Spike would be needed in the future when it came to saving the bloody world, otherwise he couldn't fathom why they'd done it; sent his sire a vision with info to give a caregiver and friend on where to locate him.

"Whoa, nostalgia comin off a you, boy."

Spike's eyes shot up, and he realized that Blake had walked in the room. The microwave suddenly beeped and the vampire opened the door to retrieve his blood. "Nice to see you too, mate."

The black haired male of six-foot two offered a half smile, his blue-green eyes friendly and whimsical in that way you could only describe as impish. He always had a somewhat threatening edge to him, but was cracking jokes just as easily as he was throwing around charm. "What's with the emotions, you'd think we were all dead the way you're remembering the past in Technicolor."

Spike poured his warmed blood into a mug, biting back an amused sigh. Blake was a pretty decent empath, and it was a hop and a skip away from reading minds if you were intelligent enough. "Just rememberin the times when you didn't used ta talk so much." He took a sip of his breakfast. "S'been a long while since you've shut up for more 'an five minutes without bein passed out or sleepin."

Stevo scoffed from the side, having just gotten in his first sip of coffee. "You're one to talk."

Spike glared without malice. "Weren' you s'posed to get Tech-boy a cup o' joe?"

Dylan raised one hand with a pointer finger up. "True."

Stevo took a second swallow of his caffeine and went to grab another mug.

"The other two up yet?" Spike asked the brunette in the corner.

Blake shook his head. "They'll stay out for at least three more hours, guaranteed. Ace hates mornings more than Stev, and Rex was flying. The idiot didn't even stop for food, probably held his bladder the whole way here."

Spike smirked. "Wouldn't be surprised. He's always in a bloody rush," he leaned against the counter and scooted out of the way as Stevo brought a coffee filled cup to the man at the computer. "So... Switzerland, eh?"

Blake grinned, his pearly perfect teeth practically gleaming as his eyes turned hot. "Oh man, you have got no idea how much fun that was."

Dylan breathed out a silent laugh, Stevo snorted, and Spike smiled. "Someone had a good time, then."

Blake nodded and Stevo muttered, "I'll bet."

"Hey, if you wanted to go all you had to do was ask, buddy. I know it's been a while since-"

"Not all of us need to go to brothels to get women, my friend," Stevo interrupted over another muted sniff of laughter from the tech at the table.

Spike bit the inside of his cheek but said nothing. Blake started again. "No, we don't. But it's nice to actually get one or two, don't ya think?"

Stevo glared at the tease in his friend's eyes and took another sip of coffee. "Yes, as long as you're not buried underneath them."

Blake blinked and looked at the ceiling as if he were thinking hard about that. "Well..."

The gypsy rolled his eyes and cut him off again."You know what I mean, dumbass. I had to do a locater spell on you!"

He grinned as he walked to the fridge. "What can I say," Blake shrugged, "I was buried underneath all those women."

Stevo groaned. Spike laughed softly and caught Dylan's amused eyes while shaking his head. Maybe things wouldn't be too bad. At least he got to be with these perfect morons until the threat of danger was gone, it could be worse.

"Well now, Spike. Did you go on a feline friendly diet while we were gone?"

Blake's curious and sardonic voice pierced through the air, along with Stevo's sudden deep boom of laughter. Dylan looked up from his computer screen. "What?"

Blake stared at Spike, who was trying not to show or feel any emotion at the moment. "Do you share nightly meals with the local strays or something? What's with the cat food, buddy?"

Dylan stood up, casting a confused glance at Stevo who was still laughing and now leaning against a nearby chair. Spike sent a glare in the gypsy's direction as he tried to ignore Blake's eyes on him, while Dylan moved to look inside the fridge.

"Someone's nervous..." the empath taunted, another grin spreading across his features. "Chuckles," he looked to Stevo, "you know somethin we don't?"

The man had to sit down, his laughs turning almost painful as he clutched at his stomach while Dylan was looking confused as he stared inside the refrigerator. He pulled out a half empty can of kitten food. "Spike, why do you have cat food in your fridge?"

"Go ahead," Stevo coughed, forcing his bellows down in order to watch his friends' reactions without tears clouding his vision. "Tell them."

Spike glowered a look that could melt ice, but the gypsy did not even blink. Instead, Blake and Dylan just got more curious. "Spike," the latter questioned. "did you get a pet?"

The vampire groaned. Why couldn't his little furball had found him AFTER all of this vision, Gem of Amara crap had been dealt with? And why'd he have to put the bloody can in the front of the fridge to begin with?!

He took a hard swallow of his blood.

"Oh my god," drawled Blake. "you got a fucking cat, didn't you?"

"Where is it?" Dylan added quickly.

"Oh no, it's not a cat," said Stevo, ignoring Spike's warning look. "It's a kitten."

Blake practically beamed while Dylan frowned and looked to the gypsy for answers. "Not for poker?"

"Holy shit." Blake's voice was dumbfounded. Stevo shook his head in the negative to Dylan's question, and the empath finally shouted, "Where is it?!"

"Probably still in his bedroom."

Finally, Spike couldn't take anymore. "A'right, yes! I have a bloody cat, and NO, you can't see her!"

"It's a her?" Dylan asked, starting to put the cat food back in the fridge when Blake abruptly seized his arm and grabbed it.

"Oh no, Dylan!" He walked to the entry of the kitchen and through it, the opened can still in hand. "We'll need this, the princess will want her breakfast now won't she?"

His tone could make a clown blush, and Spike's eyes doubled in size but he didn't move fast enough before Dylan had run after Blake, with Stevo right behind.

The vamp slammed his mug down on the counter and prepared to take on the load of crap he KNEW he was going to have to deal with until the end of time. Or maybe he'd just kill the idiots he was currently chasing up the stairs after, that way he wouldn't have to listen to-

"Holy fuck, it is a kitten."

Spike grit his teeth. Just lovely.

><

A few hours later, after she was tired of getting distracted every time someone walked up the steps to the third floor, Buffy decided she was hungry enough to head to Leonard's Place. The same little diner she'd eaten at her first day exploring MayBell.

She could've gone to a closer destination, like the little cafe where she got her coffee, but figured she'd see if there was a waitressing job available at the diner before she sat down to eat. It wasn't a fun prospect, she was fidgety and nervous, she felt like she was applying for her first job again.

Although instead of being worried if the employees were nice or not, and whether she'd trip and fall, or spill food on somebody, Buffy's fears were more focused on just being able to deal with a crowd. She knew the restaurant wasn't very noisy, at least the day she'd gone there it wasn't. However, the customers talking, the loud clanging of dishes, her inability to focus on most people for too long without getting a headache- all of it spelled disaster.

Another thing that worried her was the friendly chatter she was sure to experience should she get a waitressing job. No doubt the curious yet kind people of MayBell would all already know her as Anne Summers' granddaughter and want to learn more about her, or not have any clue who the stranger in their midst was and so would therefore, feel inclined to know her better.

Buffy hoped and suspected that if she could get used to the chatter, then she would probably do fine with just tuning things out while she carried trays and took orders. She could focus on walking, not spilling water on customers' laps, pulling out cheery smiles if they were required of her. In a small town and a small diner, she was basically begging to become part of the neighborhood, but in truth Buffy just needed a job. She didn't want to be too social, and hoped that once she settled in, and people got used to her, they'd mostly just leave her be.

Stepping through the door and into the warm, bustling diner, Buffy made note of the fact that the restaurant hours were from seven AM to midnight. She supposed a lot of truckers and travelers passed through town, and since those schedules were always so random it was probably why a diner in such a tiny town had long hours. There were probably plenty of workers here. A part of Buffy hoped they could use one more, while another part of her hoped they couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, she headed for a small inconspicuous booth in the back by a window.

"S'cuse me, darlin!" A tall waiter with a heavy tray of plates set on one broad shoulder passed straight in front of her, almost knocking Buffy on her butt. She blew out a breath and silently counted to three before moving forward again. The place was overly crowded today, with almost every seat taken and people of every age group talking and eating.

There were parents and children at tables with babies in booster seats, teenagers in booths, and a few old married couples at tables for two. No one sat alone, even three scruffy faced men in their forties wearing baseball caps, sitting at the counter on stools were sharing each other's company.

Feeling very much the loner amongst a bunch of social butterflies, Buffy wove her way to the empty booth in the corner. Sitting down finally with a sigh, she picked up a plastic covered menu with black lettering and a drab cream background. She took out an earphone, the sounds of one of her guilty pleasure songs dulling to silence in the midst of all the noise. Her stomach decided to start protesting the idea of food, but she hadn't eaten since noon so she planned on forcing down a sandwich at least.

When she spotted a tall waitress headed her way, a pretty smile on her painted face, Buffy quickly closed the menu and turned off her iPod.

"Hey sugar," the lady said, setting an ice cold glass of water down in front of her, one acrylic fingernail tapping against the tabletop as she looked at her customer with big blue eyes. "Know what you'll have?"

She stared up at the woman who had to be at least five-foot nine. Buffy felt like a shrimp. Frizzy blonde hair was piled on top of her head in curls, adding to the height, and her eyes were shadowed purple with black liner. Her lashes were thick and possibly fake, she was a little heavyset, her demeanor sweet and friendly. A nametag that said "Harriet" rested against her yellow diner shirt, the crisp collar matching her white knee length skirt and apron.

"Yeah," Buffy started. "Can I have a turkey club with everything on it and- um, water's fine."

"That all?"

"Yes." She nodded, then remembered her purpose. "Oh, wait. S-Sorry, I um, I'm sort've..." The waitress stared at her with expectancy, one manicured hand holding on to a notepad and the other resting on a solid hip. "I'm looking for a job. I was wondering if maybe there was a waitressing position open... here?"

*There. That wasn't so hard,* Buffy told to herself, though her racing heartbeat protested otherwise.

The waitress nodded, then looked her up and down, clearly assessing something. What it was, Buffy wasn't sure. "What's yer name?"

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth Summers." She figured adding in her last name might make the woman a little more patient with her, which Buffy soon realized was a good call because the waitress's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Oh, you're Annie's granddaughter aren't ya?"

Buffy nodded.

She smiled in response. "I'm Harriet. It's nice to meet you. So yer lookin for a job, huh?"

"Yes, um... I've waitressed before and I was hoping," *More like dreading* "that maybe I could apply here."

Harriet smiled again, her white teeth contrasting powerfully against her hot pink lipstick. "Well now I think you could carry a heavy tray or two, and Leonard's lookin for a new girl. Follow me." She waved a hand for Elizabeth to stand.

Which she did, clumsily but she did. Her brain was teetering a little on the foggy side as she slipped her iPod back in her bag and threw the strap over one shoulder. When she turned and followed the waitress, striding past full tables and people spit-balling at each other, her head started to ache just a little. Already she wished she was alone.

At least it seemed to be too noisy though for her to let her mind wander. That might prove to actually be helpful with her concentration waning.

Harriet led her to the back of the diner and into the kitchen. There were four cooks at separate grills and a couple of busboys carrying loads of dirty dishes to a teenager at a sink, up to his elbows in soapy steaming water. Three waitresses and a waiter, all in matching uniform shirts, rushed around grabbing plates and pinning notes with people's orders onto little turning racks. An older black gentleman wearing a white cap opposed to a hairnet like the other cooks, stood over five sizzling meat patties. His gray bushy eyebrows and lined face told of his age, and his hands flipped burgers like an seasoned pro, the spatula blurring with every movement.

"Leo!"

His head didn't turn as he answered Harriet's voice, his eyes still on the burgers. "I'm busy here, Harriet!"

"Well maybe you can be a little less busy." She waved for Elizabeth to follow her again without looking at the girl, and Buffy walked after her and tried not to let everyone rushing around unnerve her. She was so out of tune with people's whereabouts, she was going to be bumping into things left and right until she got used to the diner. IF she even got the job.

"I've got a girl here, Annie's granddaughter." Harriet stood next to Leonard with her hands on her hips, the buxom blonde waiting for him to turn and look at her.

He finally did, glancing at the short girl to Harriet's left. "Nice to meet you," he said, before going back to the burgers.

Harriet rolled her eyes. "She wants of job. Don't you still need another waitress?"

This got his attention. He quickly tossed two done burgers onto open buns on nearby plates, and then set down his spatula to face the women. "I do. One for nights." He looked at Miss Summers. "You wanna work here?"

Buffy swallowed before nodding.

He titled his head, his dark skin sweaty from being inside the hot kitchen all day. "You ever waitressed before?"

Buffy nodded again, this time responding to the man's heavy southern voice in a clear cut tone of her own. "Yes, I have."

He regarded her, almost like he was considering something. Then he looked her up and down much like Harriet had done not too long ago. "Can ya lift heavy trays?"

Buffy almost laughed when she got it. They were wondering about her size. "Yes," she said with a little smile. "I can lift heavy trays. I'm stronger than I look."

That seemed to appease him. Leonard nodded and said, "Okay. How's the night shift work for ya? Six to midnight, sometimes from four til then. Minimum wage, and ya keep yer own tips."

Buffy nodded again before asking, "How many nights a week?"

"Probably three, never more 'an five."

"Okay. I'll take it."

"Great." He told Harriet then to go get her a uniform and a nametag, and the blonde waitress scurried off. Leo turned back to his new employee. "What's yer name, hun?"

"Elizabeth," she told him.

He bobbed his head. "Well 'Lizabeth, ya think you can start t'night? F'you can't then tomorrow'll be fine."

A bit surprised and nerves fluttering abruptly all throughout her body, Buffy gulped but answered in the affirmative. "I c-can start tonight."

Harriet arrived back, a small uniform shirt in her hand and a blank nametag. Leo gestured from her to Elizabeth. "She's gonna start t'night. You can train her while yer workin, can't ya?"

Harriet nodded immediately, "Sure thing, Leo. C'mon, sugar," she took Buffy's hand, "Let's get you an apron."

As the woman tugged her away, Elizabeth barely had a shot to say thank you to her new boss before she was dragged into a closet sized dressing room. Harriet handed over her things and said, "Alright now get into this, your jeans'll do just fine for this job. We ain't real formal in here. All you gotta do's make sure you're wearing the yellow blouse when you're workin."

Buffy nodded and breathed out a shaky sigh. Her feet suddenly felt weighted down. God, tonight was going to be stressing. Maybe saying that she could start right away wasn't the best idea.

Harriet set a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Don't you worry, now. You'll get the hang f'this place in no time. And you've waitressed before so as soon as you get into a rhythm, you'll do just fine."

Buffy smiled as fine as she could at the older woman, and then looked down at her uniform. Harriet left the dressing room and said she'd be waiting right outside, and that Elizabeth could put her bag on the top shelf in the thin locker that was present amongst the purses and other items in the small room.

A few large bags overflowing with clothes and personal items like hairbrushes were lying around on the floor in the cramped space. Buffy assumed the things belonged to the other workers, and she realized just how much the people in this diner (if not in this town, as well) trusted each other. If Buffy were a thief, she could get away with about four wallets and what looked like a gold bracelet hanging out of a large red purse. She wasn't usually quite so carefree about her personal items, but knew that her bag would be safe in here.

Buffy started unbuttoning her white shirt. She'd just gotten it, and honestly didn't know why she'd even worn it in the first place. Grams had bought it a day ago, claiming she'd seen it at a store in town and immediately thought of her.

Accepting the gift with a thank you and hug, Buffy hadn't told her Grams that she most likely wasn't going to wear it too often. Maybe if nothing else was clean, or a few times to please her grandmother, but otherwise she hadn't a reason. The blouse was soft white cotton, a tiny bit of lace design lining the row of small buttons. It fit like a glove and drew attention to her chest and waist, and the buttons didn't close higher than just above her breasts.

She'd stopped wearing things that drew attention to herself a while ago because really, she'd stopped caring very much about style and had started to prefer comfort over cuteness. Her pullovers and jeans and sweatpants were perfect. Yet she'd worn this blouse today, why? Maybe because she'd been hoping to see a certain blue-eyed Brit, who might just take notice.

Well, that had failed; and now she was going to have to squeeze into another button down blouse, but this one wasn't as soft and was boring yellow instead of fresh white. Oh well, at least it wasn't going to draw much attention, that was for sure.

A couple of minutes later, dressed and ready, she peeked her head out the door and Harriet smiled kindly at her.

"Great. Now here," she walked over to Elizabeth, holding a black sharpie in one hand. She started writing on the clip-on nametag. "E L I Z A B E T H, right?"

Buffy nodded and looked up at the woman bending over her boob, pressing the plastic tag into her chest as she spelled out the name. Buffy almost laughed. Harriet was very forward and welcoming, behaving like a well-known friend instead of a new acquaintance.

"Ya gotta a nickname?" She asked.

Buffy shook her head. "No."

"Well, that's okay. This'll fit just fine." She finished the tag and Buffy noticed the "H" in her proper name almost fell off the edge of the plastic.

Harriet stood straight, capping the marker and smiling once again. "You ready to get started, sugar?"

"I'm ready." *As I'll ever be.*

"Great." She handed Buffy an apron and then lead the way out through the busy kitchen. "Now don't you worry 'bout a thing tonight, I'm workin a double so I'll be here til closin. And since I'm trainin you, we both get to do things extra slow. Mikey and other girls will take over some of my tables in exchange for yours."

"Okay." Her nerves were starting to flutter again.

"But first," Harriet grabbed a plate off of the counter and showed Buffy a turkey club sandwich. "You wanna eat? Ya did order this, and now it'll be on the house if you want it 'fore ya start workin."

A little weight lifted off of Buffy's shoulders even as she declined the considerate offer. "Thanks, b-but I'm not really hungry anymore."

She hadn't been very eager about the idea of eating anything when she'd first walked into the diner either, but now she refused to take even a bite. She might feel a little better with this nice and friendly woman helping her to get used to her new job, but Buffy's stomach roiled at the thought of food right now.

Harriet just nodded. "Alright, then let's get started."

Buffy took a deep breath and followed the woman out, picking up a clean notepad and pencil as Harriet explained where the orders went after they were written down, which tables they'd be working tonight, and how to act should anyone stare.

"Stare?"

"You're new to town, darlin," Harriet explained, revealing the fact she knew a little bit about Buffy's life. "Any newbie is gonna be looked over like one, especially in a town this small. Don't worry though, no one'll be mean or nothin; but they're gonna look. They might even ask 'bout yer life and whatnot. Just smile and answer vaguely, and then take their orders. They'll tip nicely the more ya smile, too." She winked.

"Great," Buffy said derisively. "Just great."

Harriet grinned at her. "Don't worry. I promise, you'll get the hang of it in no time."

With another deep breath, Buffy walked over to her first table after Harriet showed her the spot where plates were set once they were ready to be served, or had been retrieved from a customer.

The air was scented in perfumes of spice and grease, surprisingly not an unappealing smell. Laughter echoed throughout the space, and smiling faces were everywhere around. Buffy didn't feel... a part of it. But she didn't feel very alone either. Actually, she felt sort of isolated, like a needle hidden within that proverbial haystack. And Harriet was watching over her like a mother hawk. It wasn't horrible, to tell the truth.

She found herself slipping back into familiar territory, and the role of a waitress soon fit again. Just like when she'd worked at that restaurant back home. Memories threatened to seep inward, but then she was writing things down. Carrying a tray, refilling water glasses, smiling a greeting.

The first group was a success, her tip a small percent of the bill. And as she cleaned off that first tabletop, awaiting the ring of "Order up, table fifteen!" to be shouted through the diner so she could serve another set of customers, Buffy thought that just maybe she could do this.


Chapter End Notes:
Please review! I'm really nervous the wording wasn't flowing well for this one and feedback is always appreciated! :)



You must login (register) to review.