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Buffy was swamped. Not the regular kind of swamped, because slow season was starting. Anya covered the store on days she had to be at the school, and when Buffy was off counselor duty, she brought her work home with her.

Rather, she brought work to her other work; and she didn't really bring it, it came to her.

In place of antique collectors and newlyweds, Buffy still had kids coming by the shop. Frequently. She truly thought their visits would settle down after Christmas, but evidently, she'd thought too soon.

She was absent from their lives the minute the bell rang on Mondays and Thursdays, which just wasn't acceptable anymore. Many students claimed her immediate attention on "off days" in order to deal with overbearing parents, critical siblings, and frustrating boyfriends.

Despite the fact holiday gift giving was over now, that's what Buffy got more than anything: The boyfriend angle. Which was ironic if you thought about the state of her love life, which Ms. Summers tried valiantly hard never to do.

At first, Buffy thought the blame landed somewhere on Valentine's day. Except the day known for its surplus of roses and heart shaped candy was over a month away, and the annual school dance wasn't until the thirteenth of February. This left Buffy to wonder if she was merely a running joke for some unnamed Power. That someone higher up found it greatly amusing to see how she would react to the constant reminder she was both alone, and hating it.

Yes, hating it. For once in Buffy's life, she was unashamedly unhappy. She was owning up to it, if not publically, then internally.

Before Angel, and after, she'd always been the kind of person to survive, stand alone, utilize her own strength. If she never leaned on anybody for too long then she knew she could support herself. Buffy held with these theories, and still maintained the opinion no woman needed a man.

However, while she had always been able to survive on endurance and pride in the past, she recently found herself reflecting on a period of time she never wanted to relive.

When Angel broke up with her, she experienced some of the worst hours, days, months, and she realized now, years of her life. He had left a mark on her heart that was impossible to scrub out with another's kiss or the hand of somebody taller, someone darker, more handsome. His rejection seared. The scars left behind would fade only under the pressure of time.

Buffy knew she reopened those wounds a few times. The end came once she finally realized she had grown out of the man. Aged, changed, and become a totally different person than the girl who'd fallen in love with him. Everything was different. Her priorities, her wants, and even her endurance surrounding the steadfast mantra: "I don't need a boyfriend to be happy."

The truth was, she did need something. Someone. She needed love to be happy, and Buffy was beginning to accept this characteristic flaw in herself. Perhaps it was due to regular piques of loneliness, or the pitter patter feeling in her heart every time Anya said 'Spike' as if the name were some joke preceding its punch line. Maybe it was because Giles kept talking about coming in for a stay at the end of January so he might spend more time with his newest female friend, Jenny Calendar.

Wherever Buffy wished to place blame, on Anya, Giles, herself, romantic holidays, or the mailman given the correct set of circumstances, they all paled in comparison to one name.

She realized more every day just what she was suffering from. It was something she hadn't truly felt in ages. That terrible time she wished to never relive was waving hello from a very nearby location.

Heartbreak. New, but painfully recognizable.

The day Buffy put a name to her symptoms was the same day she had to wake up and face her busiest day since Christmas. It wasn't even a mild case of despair. It came chockfull of forced back tears, anger, distrust, and the severe need to remain forever distracted, or simply alone. No in betweens.

Somehow, Buffy managed to cope just well enough to mask her anguish. She took the necessary doses of every medication recommended, even before realizing the aches in her stomach and chest weren't leaving anytime soon, given the nature of them.

Experiencing abrupt disgust and betrayal for a person, evidently, didn't make you stop caring about them.

Buffy stocked up on ice cream. She avoided her favorite flavor simply because he had brought it that first night they had dinner together, and instead, let cardboard containers of vanilla and strawberry topping fill her freezer. Hershey bars weighted down the door of her fridge. Fudge sauce sat in a squeeze bottle on the top shelf.

She kept as active as possible when out of the house, and forced herself to share lunch with Anya or Giles whenever suggested. The time Xander insisted they all go out to dinner before her cousin left, she didn't beg off or make excuses. It was between the social engagements with her friends that Buffy made certain to gain solitude.

New Years was the flamboyant, but uneventful, tail end to an otherwise colorless row of days which encouraged hard work and crisis management. She attended a small party hosted by friends in the neighborhood, nothing compared to the Harris' Christmas hoopla, and left Giles with Jenny once again in order to go home early.

Whether Buffy threw on headphones while cleaning up the store, or stayed in bed and watched crappy late night television, was her business. She hid it from her friends, and the beginning of January soon turned into a stage of therapy. A time for healing.

Buffy was never one to just lie still and take the pain of heartache. She always faced it. Which is why after the Month of Avoidance and Attempted Blank-mindedness also known as December, she was left with much to take on.

Giles went back to England the day after the first, and she returned to the school the day after that.

Buffy was just planning to tidy up the office, go through old papers and toss out what she didn't need before "business" picked up. But the students started coming by almost instantaneously, making her head spin. She had six meetings the first day alone.

She also saw Principal Wood, the telltale signs of parenthood ringing his eyes. She saw Roger, who actually made her smile due to his complete evasion of eye contact and monosyllabic conversation. Apparently, waking up in your own drool on a staircase was enough embarrassment to make him start avoiding her. Buffy was grateful.

However, out of all the people she saw at school, all the familiar faces, easy conversations and not so easy ones, an entire week passed without so much as a glimpse of Spike's shadow.

Never mind the fact she was looking for it, Buffy was too busy wondering why the hell she couldn't just up and forget him. What the man had done should have been enough to put her off quick and clean. If she was upset and feeling scammed, well, that accounted nicely for her late night ice cream binges. If she was heartbroken because she'd been mislead into thinking the man was perfect, only to be greatly let down, that was acceptable, too.

Looking for Spike in the halls at school, and abandoning the early departure routine she'd established weeks before because she wasn't truthfully scared anymore, was not.

Missing him, while something Buffy could have justified for a month at the most, was okay. Any longer, and she was broaching dangerous territory.

She shouldn't miss him. Not him him. Maybe the food he cooked and the conversations they had; the ways he used to make her laugh and burn, and the idea of him, sure. But not him.

Yet she couldn't seem to stop, and so Buffy was yet again at a loss for what to do.

Distraction seemed the most helpful medicine. She ushered students seeking curricular guidance, or just someone to talk to, into her office every hour. Sometimes she saw twelve in a day, and if they didn't ask her for dating advice, then all the better.

However, by week two of the new year, Buffy still had not seen the one teenager she was most concerned about. Jack was a ghost, a memory to her office walls, growing foggier by the minute; much like Spike.

She hadn't heard from the boy via phone, letter, or relayed message. She'd gone to his home plenty of times, and knew his aunt had told him of her visits. Jack simply didn't want to speak to her.

On the second Thursday of January, about an hour before the last bell was set to ring, Buffy went into Principal Wood's office and asked that he make an announcement.

"Jack Winton, please report to Ms. Summers' office. Jack Winton, report to the guidance counselor's office."

"Gee, 'report?'" Buffy said once Robin switched the speaker off. "Make me sound like a drill sergeant."

"Buffy, you do that all on your own." He smiled and leaned back in his roller chair. "Why do you want to talk to Jack, by the way? Obviously you don't think seeking him out on your own will be successful. Has he done something?"

Buffy shook her head. "Not at all. It's just been a while since I've talked to him, and..." Robin frowned. She sighed. "... And he seems to be avoiding me. I just want to make sure he's doing all right, check in and everything."

If Robin detected the least amount of desperation or personal concern, he didn't say anything. "I understand. Do you know how he's doing working with your friend, Xander Harris? You got Jack the job, as I recall?"

"I got him the interview," she said. "Jack got himself the job. Xander says he's doing fine."

A mere nod, and the principal sent Buffy on her way with a warm goodbye.

By the time she shut Robin's door and turned towards her office, Jack was there waiting. He leaned against the closed entryway like a James Dean poster, arms crossed, head down. His sharp jaw and jet black hair created a stubborn picture.

"I didn't want to barge in, and there was no answer when I knocked," he grumbled.

Buffy quickly reached for the doorknob to let him inside. He flew ahead of her impatiently, and she frowned when he asked that she shut the door behind them.

"Never thought you'd be ashamed of coming to see me," Buffy said, closing it. "Is that why you won't talk to me? Embarrassment?"

"Can't help but be embarrassed. You announced it over the speaker," he griped.

"I just wanted to see you."

"About what?"

Buffy sighed quietly, walking around her desk. She gestured to the chair in front of it as she sat down in her own. Jack's lips compressed into a bitter line.

Buffy watched as he situated himself into the exact same position as she, just a head taller. He was stiff, quiet, and mulish. Such a combination managed to both hurt and annoy her greatly. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not."

"Oh, so the fact I tried to see you over Christmas break several times and could never find you, and never got a call back, isn't you avoiding me?"

He shifted in his seat. The book bag she'd not noticed until then dropped from his shoulders to the floor. "I got busy."

"Busy." She nodded sharply. "I see. So what about now? I haven't seen you once since school started. I haven't gotten to ask you about your life, your job, or how your classes are going."

"I didn't realize it was my duty to report to you."

"It is not your duty to-!" Buffy shouted, then stopped herself. She breathed in, out, and counted to five. "Jack, I'm just trying to understand why you're so angry. Why you won't talk to me?"

She thought she knew the answer, but Buffy wouldn't say it.

He could have told her she was right, at least partially, but the second reason would remain always hidden. It was his secret, a personal vow to protect her. Jack wouldn't let his childish enemies drag Buffy, a person who'd been good and fair to him, who'd helped him so much, into a pointless feud. It didn't matter he was frustrated with her. Shaun and Michael would never know he cared about her, if Jack could help it.

He admittedly missed talking to Buffy, but there were other things to consider. It didn't mean he could just forget about Spike.

Jack uncrossed his arms and tugged absently at one of his coat buttons. "I'm not upset with you."

Buffy frowned. "Could've fooled me."

"I just... don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"How come you stopped seeing Spike."

Buffy stiffened, though she'd known to expect this. She squeezed her own hands, as if she was bracing them for a smack of the ruler. "I don't think I can explain it."

Jack's ire rose. "Why don't you try?!"

"Even if I could," she spoke firmly, "it wouldn't change anything." Buffy believed that. Partly, anyway. There was always a chance Jack's venom could obtain new aim, redirect itself towards Spike, should he learn of what happened. Buffy didn't want that. She didn't want Jack to lose another friend, and she wasn't sure Spike deserved to either.

"It wouldn't change anything?" Jack scoffed. His voice turned into a mumble. "Maybe I could do something."

"What?"

"I said, maybe I could do something!" the boy snapped. "Maybe I could talk between you two, since you obviously don't talk to each other anymore. Maybe I could make you see that Spike is a great guy, and whatever he did, I'm sure it's fixable! I'm sure he wants to fix it. And maybe, then, if you'd talk about whatever the hell happened to somebody who knows the both of you, you could get a new perspective. I don't know exactly what or how, or if I'd manage to help at all, but I'd try!"

Buffy's body grew very heavy. She felt a coil in her throat that spun tighter and tighter into a knot, making her eyes water. The next words trembled out like broken glass. "It isn't your responsibility."

He scoffed. "Yeah, 'cause you won't let it be."

"No, Jack, it isn't. What happened between me and Spike has nothing to do with anyone but us." She clenched her hands into two fists on her desk, choosing to look at them instead of the frustrated young man in front of her. "You aren't going to fix it. It can't be fixed."

"So you've given up already."

"It's been over a month," Buffy said softly. "And even if there was a chance- which there isn't -you couldn't do anything."

"Could Spike?" Jack said quickly. Before Buffy could answer, he went on. "I know he did something, because he said he did. And I know it was bad, but does it really mean you can't give him another shot?"

"Jack-"

"Did he tell you how he's been helping me?" Jack asked earnestly. "I bet not, but he has been. He's been teaching me how to fight."

Buffy almost fell from her seat. "What?!"

"Well, more like defend myself," the boy amended, and something in Buffy's chest wound back down. She could breathe again as Jack carried on. "The day he drove me home from your house, when Mr. Harris brought me over and I had my black eye?" She nodded dumbly. "Spike told me he could train me so that I wouldn't get beat up anymore. Ever since, we've been working in the gym together after school. He's taught me how to throw a punch, block one. I've gotten stronger, and I haven't gotten... hurt. I've been able to stop people from bothering me."

The last of the story was said with tenuous embarrassment. The guidance counselor was shaking in her chair. Buffy swallowed hard. "You- He's- Spike's been teaching you how to fight?"

Jack sighed, searching for reliable words; he didn't like the anxiety creeping into her eyes. "He taught me how to fight back. That night at the cemetery, I screwed up, started something I shouldn't have with Michael O'Henry, and Spike wanted to kill me for it. I thought defending myself meant I could get back at the people who used to torture me daily, but he made me see that wasn't it." Jack took a steadying breath, trying to make her understand, trying to explain the depth to which Spike had helped him. "He taught me skills I didn't have. He also taught me that I can't be an idiot, or fight someone just because I'm angry. I'm better off now than I've ever been, and it's... it's a good feeling. To know I can defend myself."

Buffy looked down, pushing back an emotion she couldn't name, but that insisted on rushing to her eyes like a waterfall. She sniffled momentarily and quickly looked down. "When did... Does anyone else know?"

Jack shook his head calmly. "No. We couldn't use the gym after Christmas break started, so I was going to his house for a while. When you guys stopped talking, I was going over there more and more, just because I thought Spike might want a friend..." Jack's voice softened momentarily. "But he always made sure I left with something new. He hasn't stopped teaching me."

Buffy wanted to lie her head in her hands, and she really, really wanted to kick something. A golf ball seemed to be lodged in her throat, which no amount of swallowing could erode.

Jack noticed her distress, but the boy didn't understand it. "If he hadn't helped me, I would've gotten a lot worse beatings than the aftermath of the one you saw."

Buffy's eyes shot to his, wide and shocked. "I know," she responded shakily. "Spike helped you."

He'd done more than that, Buffy thought. He saved Jack from a hellish high school career. She had heard many good things from the boy's teachers lately, mainly because she'd been nosy and asked for reports. Jack's grades were up, he was starting to ask questions and participate more in class. He was even showing signs of social interaction with his fellow students. There were only good words to be said, all around.

Buffy hadn't heard of any distressing recounts from his aunt, Xander, Al, or the principal. Jack was living his life peacefully for once. While Buffy was thrilled every time she turned a corner to discover more repeating progress, she had had no idea that Spike, and Jack's relationship with the man, had anything to do with it.

"Are you... Are you going to see Spike again, today after school?" she asked quietly.

"For practice?" the boy replied flippantly. All former disgruntlement and agitation he'd been showing her, had evaporated.

"Yes."

"Not today. Spike doesn't work Thursdays anymore."

Buffy blinked. "He doesn't?"

"He quit. Just Mondays and Thursdays, though." Jack shrugged innocently. "I think he was keeping busy at home at first, but he's got a third job now."

Mondays and Thursdays? Buffy frowned as the conclusions sunk in. Spike had taken off Mondays and Thursdays, the days she always came into work. The days she used to look forward to the most. He was avoiding her, or quite possibly, making it easier for her to avoid him.

"He's part-timing at a body shop outside town," Jack continued carelessly, and Buffy listened. " I think he said he got it right after New Years."

"Oh." That was all she had. Just a common, monosyllabic 'Oh.' Her heart was racing and she didn't know why, and her head felt like an unfinished puzzle, with all the pieces mixed together in messy piles.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to respond to anything Jack had just told her.

Thankfully, the boy took reign over the conversation. "I think he likes it, but he doesn't say too much when I ask him how's it going. I wish you could talk to him."

The ice around her thawed, and Buffy was just able to lean back in her chair to breathe. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"He misses you."

"Even if... Jack, can you listen to me for a second?" The boy scowled, but nodded agreeably. Buffy took another steadying breath. "Just because I don't talk to Spike anymore doesn't mean I won't talk to you, and it doesn't mean you shouldn't talk to me. I don't like that you think you can't, or shouldn't."

His scowl softened marginally.

"We can stay friends, if you let us," she said.

Jack was quiet now. He looked down at his backpack, seemingly thinking very hard about something. Judging his eyes, Buffy would not say it was a topic they had previously discussed, but that made little sense.

Finally, he murmured, "We're friends, huh?"

Buffy allowed herself a careful smile. "I'd always thought so."

Jack breathed out, a comfortable sound, a loss of tension. Happy resignation, it seemed, filled his face, and he smirked. "I'm glad."

Buffy watched Jack stand. He lifted his book bag onto one shoulder. He was still lean, like the first day they'd met, but as Buffy took a moment to examine him, she realized there was definitely something stronger about him now. Something that had been missing before. He wasn't so much thin as he was trim, and a new confidence rested on his straight, widening shoulders.

"I've got to get back to class. Last one of the day."

"Right," she smiled, and would have walked to let him out, except she didn't trust her legs at the moment. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't." Jack opened the door, its creaking hinges echoing his farewell with cheer, as if to say, 'stop being so serious,' before he turned to her again. "I'll see you later, Buffy."

Jack closed the door tightly. On each side, there were matching sighs of relief dampened by anxiety. The first, came from her, and it told of a million thoughts Buffy knew she would have to have before she could rest.

The second sigh came from him, the boy who'd admittedly walked away from the counselor's office with a lighter heart, but heavier concerns.

He wouldn't avoid Buffy anymore. At least, not because of Spike, or Jack's dying grudge held over their split, but because of his own problems.

He would have to limit the visits, only because if he didn't, he feared Shaun and Michael would start to feel confident in their assumptions that Buffy Summers was important to him. And Jack couldn't risk that.





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