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Buffy and Jack sat on the edge of the couch in the teacher's lounge. Everyone around her stood straight and tall, except for those most hurt, most bent in by shock. They had been here for hours. Shaun was waiting in the back of a police car, his wrists bound by handcuffs, his father prepared to follow him to the station. Michael had been carted off to the hospital for observation and treatment of facial injuries. It appeared the boy had a mild concussion, but was expected to make a full recovery.

Buffy had never seen the sheriff so upset before, not since her mother died. When the whole story was retold Al had to visibly restrain himself from saying something below his character. Or doing something unquestionably unprofessional. He refused to deal with Michael at all, tossing the boy onto fellow officers, and stayed brusquely unsympathetic while questioning Shaun.

Not that anyone here deserved sympathy, except maybe the parents. Jack's aunt hadn't arrived yet, stuck in traffic on the highway. When Michael's father showed he was forced to follow the ambulance to the hospital and left with more questions than answers. From what Buffy was told, the officers who played Michael's designated watchmen would inform him on the details.

Shaun's dad was standing across the room. It had taken a while to get a hold of him, likely because Larry Gregory often forgot he even had a cell phone, let alone to turn the volume up.

Al was talking to one of his officers at the moment, having finished with Larry. The sheriff and one of his right hands had questioned Buffy repeatedly, then Jack. Thankfully there were no disputes; Shaun was honest in every reported word. The boy was still shaken by the whole experience. It was one thing to get caught slashing tires, but another thing entirely to witness your close friend nearly stab a woman in the throat.

Buffy swallowed convulsively and drank from the teacup sitting in her lap. The scratchy blanket they'd draped over her shoulders had fallen some time ago.

Jack was beside her, his own dark gray throw lying atop his knees. The boy's hand was bandaged, courtesy of the paramedics. He was only stuck here thanks to Al's and Robin's insistence.

Buffy looked at them, studying the principal who appeared very tired, but seemed to be persevering, still managing the situation with decorum. Al was frustrated, forever caught somewhere between disbelief and sympathy. Larry became the focus of his attention again. The old mechanic remained up to his ears in nervous energy.

Jack leaned forward, crossing his arms over his lap. "Think we can talk for a minute without getting interrupted?"

Buffy sighed. "Probably only 'til Larry leaves."

"I better be quick then." Jack looked at his shoes before casting her a glance filled with uncertainty. "I went to your office earlier. Before I found you in the parking lot..."

"And?"

"I was going to warn you."

Buffy frowned. He had said something like this earlier, before Robin was summoned to phone the police. "Warn me?"

"About Michael and Shaun."

"Jack, what are you talking about?"

The boy rolled his eyes in a show of self mockery. "You know how they used to pick on me?" She nodded. "Well, they weren't liking the fact I could suddenly fight back. After Spike started helping me, I could take Michael and Shaun easily, or at least tire 'em out before any real damage was done. They got tired of it real quick, and one night they followed me, saw me leaving your house."

"They were following you?" Buffy's scowl grew fierce. "Are you serious?"

"No, I just thought now was a good time for a joke." Her scowl deepened, prompting a sigh from him. "When they saw me leaving your place they realized we were friends, so they threatened you. More Michael, now that I think about it."

"What did he say?"

Jack shook his head guiltily. "He was kind of vague, told me I couldn't protect everyone. Somethin' like that. It was part of the reason I didn't want to see you for a while. I was afraid they'd see me with you and realize they were right. We are friends."

"You didn't want to put me in danger." Buffy warmed. So he hadn't hated her. The bullies were another reason for his evasiveness. A portion of Jack's resentment lie at the feet of her and Spike's separation, but not all of it was Buffy's fault. The boy had just been trying to protect her.

"You should've told me," she said.

"I know." He adjusted in his seat, thoughtlessly scratching his eyebrow. "I was just scared you would try to do something about it, like tell Principal Wood. Then they might really have... gone to the extreme."

Buffy blinked. "Like shove an ice pick against my neck?"

Jack flinched. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry," she added hastily. "I was trying to lift the mood with a funny, but it fell flat." *Too early to lighten anyone's mood,* she thought, and Jack's especially. The boy wore the look of a kicked puppy. "Jack, you're okay, which is all I care about. And I'm fine, thanks to you..." She took a shallow breath. "I guess Spike's teaching methods are pretty top notch, huh?"

"You should know," he said, giving her a probing look."Saw for yourself the other day."

Buffy's face grew hot. "I... I didn't mean to spy. It wasn't planned."

"Hmm, well." Jack shrugged like it didn't matter whether she was telling the truth or not.

She swallowed thickly. "When did you say Spike and you started, um, working together?"

"After Mr. Harris brought me to your house with that black eye. Remember, Spike drove me home? He offered to help that day, but made me tell him who was picking on me. Then he reported back to you." Jack rubbed his sore hand, stating candidly, "Pretty sure you were one of the main reasons he even bothered."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I know Spike's my friend now, but it didn't start out that way. He wouldn't have looked at me twice if it wasn't for that black eye, maybe some pity, and you."

Buffy bit her lip, head falling forward. In her heart she knew Jack was right. Spike's motivations were dual. He helped Jack because he needed to, as a man who had once dealt with bullies, as one who'd learned how to fight. Someone who could change another victim's life. Any further momentum behind Spike's cause had likely been her.

Buffy clenched her jaw, sighing to the ceiling as it sunk in. Spike kept helping Jack even now, after she had left him. It reminded her what goodness could lurk in an unlikely heart.

"So, what'd you think?"

She blinked. "Huh?"

"When you saw us in the gym. What'd you think?"

"Oh." A moment of tension wobbled by. "I think you're very... adept. And I think Spike is good with you." Buffy forced the emotions welling in her chest back down. "But that doesn't mean you're Superman. You should tell me if anybody tries to hurt you again or makes threats, against you or anybody else. If you don't want to tell me then tell Robin, or your aunt, even Spike." Who may simply show Jack how to fend the opponent off, Buffy thought, but then quickly smothered her paranoia. Obviously, Spike cared about the boy. He would always protect him.

Jack wasn't looking at her when next he spoke. "Yeah, well, what I've got to tell you next isn't about me."

"What? There's more?"

"Something Spike wanted me to pass along, actually."

Buffy braced herself, swallowing heavily. "Which is?"

"He had a fight with Joe. At the garage, that new place he's working."

She balked. "What? He did? How?"

"Joe worked there, too, I guess. He's fired now, though. Spike said they were kind of competing for the spot. Both of 'em just staying on 'til the boss picked a permanent employee."

"Oh..."

"Spike got the job, obviously, and I don't know all the details, but I guess there was some fight involving the boss' daughter. Spike ended up decking the guy. Says he lost his temper. Then he mentioned something about you selling important antiques? Which set Joe off and... Well, he didn't seem to be over the whole thing, according to Spike."

Buffy shut her eyes. She could tell by the way Jack spoke, he didn't know much regarding that old dispute, and she was thankful for a break. She did, however, know full well what Spike had been trying to explain, the message behind Jack's unpolished report. "Joe knows that Spike and I are... friends? And about the antiques?"

Jack nodded, but his eyes let slip that the meanings behind each word remained unclear. "Spike's worried Joe might seek you out to get revenge, since he's mad at Spike and now it looks like you're important to him. I guess Joe was pretty pissed last night."

"This happened last night?"

"Yeah."

Her stomach coiled into a tight knot. She'd heard Joe last night while talking to Larry on the phone. He'd been so angry; and he had gone to his brother to vent that anger.

A weight fell into place, and dismay fell with it. That was why Shaun took to her car. He was privy to the worst opinions of her, living under the same roof as his brother; combine such a situation with his dislike for Jack, and behold the perfect motive.

Whether or not Joe had given Shaun the idea to ruin her tires, Buffy wasn't sure. Shaun claimed he and Michael came up with the plan together. However, Joe was still an issue, and she realized now, one that may need to be dealt with publicly.

For her own peace of mind, in the effort to learn every detail before speaking to Larry and Al, Buffy asked, "What was the fight about again?"

Jack rubbed his temple. "Boss' daughter. I guess Joe's a real asshole when it comes to girls. He got too touchy and started calling her names. Spike was pissed."

Buffy nodded. She tried determinedly to ignore the pang in her chest that supplied an endless, resounding echo of: *Another girl, another girl, there's another girl...*

She shook her head. It didn't matter. What mattered right now was that she talk to Al, then call Anya one more time to check in. Actually, maybe she would do that first.

Buffy patted Jack's shoulder and smiled at him gratefully, if a bit dimly. "Thank you for telling me. And... thank Spike for me. I'm going to talk to Larry and Al about Joe right now."

The boy look relieved, a flash of real happiness brightening his gray eyes, turning them from clouds to silver lakes. Before she could rise, however, he touched her arm and looked suddenly uncertain. "Um, Buffy, can I ask you something?"

"Sure"

"It's totally unrelated."

"Thank God," she laughed.

"It's about... Well, the flowers, on your desk. Are they from someone?"

She frowned.

"I just... I saw 'em when I went by your office. The door was open and I thought maybe somebody got them for you? Or did you buy them yourself?"

Buffy bit her lip, looking down uncomfortably. She knew she shouldn't say it, shouldn't answer him. It was all too obvious why he was asking.

Yet, for some reason, Buffy couldn't stop herself. "No. Penny, a student I've helped a few times. She gave them to me, as a thank you."

Jack relaxed visibly, smiling again. "Oh. Got it. Thanks."

Buffy nodded, even if she didn't feel like it. She hadn't known teenage boys to work so hard at playing matchmaker, or hold out hope so firmly.

A part of her envied that latter ability.

***

Buffy's car was towed away at no charge, because Al knew a guy. Larry assured her that her tires would be replaced for free; he'd do the job himself. Not long after, Jack's aunt arrived and had a momentary hysterical fit. She settled down just long enough to breathe, and take her exhausted, apathetic young nephew home.

Al told Buffy he'd do the same for her once he finished the very last of the police reports. In the meantime, she was at the station, waiting. Charges would be pressed against both Shaun and Michael, while Joe was simply a question mark Al kept circling like a fox does a pheasant.

He couldn't do anything legal, he told her; but he would issue a personal warning. Larry was fully aware of the situation now, which counted for something.

Only one matter remained somewhat unclear. Buffy kept thinking about the fight Jack said happened between Spike and Joe, wondering exactly how it had started, what was said, and whether or not Spike wanted to tell her about it himself.

It wasn't like he could, of course. She'd made him promise to stay away from her, and while a mercilessly logical part of Buffy's brain tried to argue he should have left her name out of the fight to begin with, her heart wouldn't be moved. If he hadn't gotten Joe to speak up, she might have agreed to continue selling Larry's things in her shop. She was still uncertain whether Joe's fury lived for the past, or if it was fueled by more recent efforts to do business with his father. Regardless, after today's insanity Buffy told Anya to mark the last of the widower's unsold items "Not For Sale," so they could be returned to him.

She felt much calmer for that. She phoned Xander too, to make sure he closed with Anya tonight. He was already planning on doing so but the fact Buffy got to speak to him herself eased her mind.

At the moment, the shopkeeper sat opposite the sheriff, a hard backed desk chair her sole support. Watching him squint his brows together and scribble words on a sheet of paper, Buffy sat with a cup of stale coffee in hand. It was heavily sweetened and filled with powder creamer, but hot, which was all she cared about. Her nerves were calm for the first time in hours. The storm was still howling outside, having picked up while she endured her own kind of natural disaster, but quiet reigned within.

She was tired, and sad certainly, but a part of Buffy felt oddly at peace. She wondered briefly why, and how come her brain refused to explain the sudden clarity, but something sweet whispered she might actually be getting sleep tonight.

Ironic, considering how the day had started; worried Joe might drop in on Anya unannounced, downing caffeine like the addict she was just to remain standing, and bickering about early bird customers. Then, of course there was the weather, and her endless, repetitive stream of thoughts. A metaphorical roll of the dice took place each time Buffy considered what Jack had told her, and she was forever unprepared for the outcome.

It was a constant mental climb to the top of a mountain. She would fall right over the metaphorical edge to land on ruined tires and the remembered sensation of an ice pick against her throat; but somehow, she was calm.

A complete turnaround really. Buffy had never encountered what she felt in that parking lot today. Shock woven with despair; horror. It felt as if she were floating inside the moment, unable to fix a thing. The kind of emotion only the worst possible moments in life could rankle free, like Pandora's Box. All bad, all at once.

Chaotic as the situation was, disbelief had been the first to melt. Realizing the level to which teenage boys would sink invoked astonishment, then doused it in questions. The answers thankfully came later. For a short while, though, panic overwhelmed her, until anger was all that remained.

That anger gained a new friend when Michael grabbed her; terror, unlike any sort she had experienced before.

Buffy shivered in her chair. She wasn't totally confident she would have been able to make it out of that situation without Jack. The boy arrived in the very nick of time.

Perhaps that was why calm settled in. She knew Jack was going to be okay, and three lingering shadows always at the back of the boy's mind were no longer threats. Reports were being made and she knew to just drop all business with Larry Gregory. He might be a kind man, but he had a lot to learn about parenting, and Buffy wasn't willing to deal with Joe ever again.

She was tired, and the weather was horrible. She could hardly wait to talk to Robin in detail about taking some time off, and was more than ready to go home and see her cat; but she was altogether okay.

Buffy looked at Al again. The man had run his fingers through his hair enough times today that dishwater blonde flopped downward, cutting his forehead in half. Hands that had seen plenty of hard work and more hours filling in reports with a pencil rather than a computer keyboard moved quickly across stiff paper. His eyes were framed by thin lines, telling of age, but they were warm when they fell on her.

Buffy realized not for the first time how surrounded she was by people who cared. Xander and Anya were in her corner always. Al Howard, the town's sheriff, a fair and just man, was like her very own guardian angel with a badge. Jack, a sweet boy growing into himself had defended her today, and Robin Wood was all ready to give her a raise and time off, if she requested it. Hell, even Larry was kind to her, more bewildered over his family's behavior than indignant or defensive.

Then there was Spike. Buffy sighed into her coffee cup. A man she told never to contact her again had warned her through their mutual friend of a possible threat. He was still watching out for her, but without watching her. Buffy had been too vigilant over the past month and a half not to be sure; if Spike went back to his old ways, she would know.

He hadn't. He had kept his promise to leave her in peace. Hell, he'd quit his normal job two days a week just to better avoid her, a decision made of equal parts heartache and respect. She wasn't sure which surprised her more, the fact Spike missed her as a man in love would miss a woman, or that he was trying so hard not to make her feel trapped. She had thought that was exactly how stalkers wanted their victims to feel.

"Can you tell me what happened with Joe again?"

She jolted. "Sorry," Buffy murmured self consciously and shifted in her seat. "What about Joe?"

"When he came into your store," the sheriff asked. "I know you told me a couple times now, I just want to make sure I'm fully loaded when I drop by the Gregory place."

Buffy grinned a little crookedly. "I hope you don't mean 'loaded' as in 'ammo.' Haven't we had enough violence for one decade?"

"I'll second that," he said, rising from his seat. "Never mind, honey. Don't bother with the story again. I got it all down here." He tapped his yellow notepad with his trigger finger. "I think we ought to break the loop of telling unpleasant tales for now. It's time I take you home."

Buffy practically leapt from the chair, putting her coffee down immediately. They strolled unhurriedly to the exit despite the fact she was so anxious to leave she forgot her gloves on Al's desk, and neglected to put her hood up.

White flakes started melting in her hair when Al turned the heat on in his patrol car. Buffy rubbed her hands together as he pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the main road. It wasn't long before he retrieved a small portable radio from the glove box and switched it on. "We're not supposed to carry these around when we're on duty," he said conspiratorially, "but I enjoy listenin' to music when I'm driving. Besides, it's a cold day in..." He frowned. "Well, it's a cold day in January, I s'pose, when there's ever anything worth worrying about in this town. Mostly it's pretty quiet."

Buffy leaned her head against the seat. "You rebel," she joked, and Al shook his head delightedly. In a moment, soft country music overlaid the repetitious sound of wipers sliding jerkily across windshield glass. Buffy closed her eyes, only to pop them open when her driver started to hum. He was so quiet it almost sounded like jagged breathing rather than a melody.

The sheriff caught her staring and lifted his mouth up in a half smile. She couldn't be sure, but Al's scruffy cheeks might have been turning pink. "Bad habit I've got. Sorry, hun."

"Don't be," she said. "You like music?"

"Very much," he admitted. "Can't say I'm big on expanding my horizons, though. Country's always been my favorite."

It had been her mom's, too. Buffy neglected to mention that, knowing it would upset him, but warmed thinking about it. Joyce and Al had probably listened to country music together during their stolen moments.

"I'll scan the stations for you, if ya like?"

"No, it's okay. I like country, too," she murmured. "Never been my favorite, but it's nice."

"What kind's your favorite?"

"Pop, soft rock." She shrugged. "I guess I like most stuff."

Buffy remembered fighting over CDs with someone not very long ago, though it felt like years. That first night she had dinner with Spike she latched onto music as a way to calm her nerves and fill the silence. He teased her for having such a 90s kid collection, and the memory made Buffy smile.

Then it faded. She wouldn't get a chance to argue with Spike about stuff like music, food, television or movies ever again.

She swallowed, fighting down a sudden, nasty feeling in her stomach.

"Do you have someone to stay with tonight?"

She looked up in surprise. "Um, well, not really. I mean, I could ask my friends, but I'll be fine."

Al didn't seem convinced. "What about that Pratt fellow you were seeing?"

Buffy looked at her boots, snow melting all around her heels. "You mean William?"

"Yeah. I remember he was with you after the episode with your purse snatcher." Al snorted to himself. "And during. Seemed like a good man, certainly head over heels for you. Might ask him to drop by. I'm sure he wouldn't mind stayin' for the night."

Buffy forced a headshake, keeping her voice even. "No, I can't. We..." Damn, she thought everyone in town knew about her recent sort of breakup. Only Al was talking about innocent comfort and support from a man who was more present in her mind than in her reality. Either the sheriff had been left out of the loop, or he didn't think it mattered. "We stopped seeing each other a while ago."

"Thought I heard something like that. Sorry about it, though." Buffy blinked in surprise and Al scratched his temple, frowning at the white landscape. "You sure you two aren't on speakin' terms? I only ask 'cause I remember how worried he was before. Man seemed capable of lookin' after you; more important, appeared he wanted to."

Buffy felt her throat tighten. She had no problem remembering that, too. It hurt to know Spike would probably drop everything and run over if she called him. He would be there in a heartbeat. Buffy let that knowledge sink in. She clenched her jaw to ward off the guilt. "No."

Al glance sidelong, caught her expression and backpedaled. "Thought I'd ask... but now m'sorry I did."

"It's okay."

The man reached out on instinct, patting Buffy's denim dressed knee. "Tell you what, I'll be around today." They pulled onto the dead end road that only lead to one place, one home. "If you want me to drop in, or need me to call someone for you, don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you," Buffy whispered. A sense of relief washed over her as she saw her house. Al put the car in park and stepped out. She quickly followed and nearly ran up the snowy steps to the front door, yanking her keys out of her pocket and unlocking it. Tabitha was waiting for her.

Buffy scooped the feline into her arms and hugged her, inviting Al in for coffee out of habit.

"No, you rest. I'll check by tomorrow." He rubbed Tabitha's head while the cat purred. "You remember now, I'm just a phone call away."

"I know." Buffy smiled weakly and said her goodbyes. She thanked the sheriff again, and when finally she closed her front door, a sigh as heavy as a brick fell from her lips. Tabitha leaned up to nuzzle her chin. Buffy's emotions gathered into seed sized droplets behind her eyes, so she let them seep through.

What she needed right now was a good cry, and a good rest in order to restore her recent bout of calm. Buffy kissed Tabitha's fur and headed for bed.





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