Jab Cross Jab

Spike watched mesmerized as Buffy showed no mercy to her opponent, striking with a speed and accuracy she’d honed to a razor’s edge over the years. Just as the very first time from the shadows in the alley behind the Bronze, he waited for her opponent to inevitably give and its grainy remains to litter the ground.

“Stop it Spike—” Buffy ever gracefully dodged the heavy bag’s swing-back and landed several more blows in return—“you’re totally creeping me out over here.”

“How so?”

For the past two hours, Spike hadn’t moved very far from his particular spot against the training room wall as he and Buffy waited for word from the ex-Watcher. True, while she was letting off some steam, he hadn’t been much company. His mind was too busy chewing over and over the same needless worries that were back with a vengeance from this morning. Well, these uncertainties weren’t all he’d focused on. During the lulls between bouts of self-flagellation and being an all and out milksop, he’d waxed poetry on her deadly splendor. For not saying or doing much more than staying in his own noggin, he’d actually kept himself quite busy.

Now, what rhymed with dauntless?

“That! That whole quiet, standing around, watching thingy you’re doin’.” Buffy grabbed the swinging bag, stilling it. “And by the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed you doing this earlier. You haven’t really said anything since we stormed Evil Inc. and warned Angel. What’s going on?”

“Just thinkin’ is all.” Spike shrugged.

“Yeah, something’s totally wrong here.” Buffy raised a meticulously shaped brow and smirked.

“Thanks ever so, Slayer.”

“See, now I know there’s something wrong. You only call me Slayer when you’re trying to back away. I know your game, Spike. It’s text book Psych 101, that whole you separating yourself from me by dehumanizing me shtick. Or is it humanizing in this case? Whichever, it doesn’t matter. All I know is that you’re pissed off about something and for some bizarro reason you don’t want to talk about it.” Buffy walked toward Spike, her gaze intense and fixed. “Well, whatever it is, sooner or later I’m gonna figure it out.”

In that moment, Spike never felt so vulnerable. It was like his insides were exposed, laid out for display and critique. Unable to take her silent scrutiny any longer, he looked away. All the sudden finding his boots really interesting.

“Ta, Sigmund. All you’re missin’ is a cigar and a couch, and you’d feel right at home inside my head, eh?”

“Yeah, you so don’t wanna even go there, Id boy.” Buffy cupped Spike’s face, drawing his attention upward. “Spike. Talk to me. Please.”

The way she was looking at him, so open, so honestly willing to listen, nearly broke him in two. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to open his mouth and let all his insecurities, pain, and emotions come spilling out. Yet he held back and couldn’t figure out exactly why. Whether it was apprehension, fear of rejection, or some other deep-seated ill ease, something was staying his tongue and only allowing a mere trickling of the truth to flow, instead of the deluge churning and raging inside.

“Just trying to wrap my head around all of this s’all.” Spike pulled from Buffy’s touch and turned slightly, absently occupying himself with the weapons hanging on the wall behind them while he spoke, “Sleeping Beauty waking up, your slayer dreams on re-run, that blasted book, me materializing out of that gaudy amulet in King Broody’s office…none of this makes any bloody sense. And don’t even get me started on my jumbled thoughts about me and—” Before Spike finished, the door swung open and Angel entered.

“Wesley’s back. Everyone’s waiting in my office.”

“Angel, can you give Spike and I a minute, we’ll be—”

Spike stopped admiring the double-bladed kamas, turned toward Angel and started speaking right over Buffy, cutting her off mid-sentence, “We’re coming.” Spike watched Angel’s eyes shifting between the two of them before nodding and leaving the room. With Angel gone, Spike looked at Buffy. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this. Come on, let’s get schooled.”

Not giving her a chance to argue or question him any longer, Spike exited through the double doors and headed toward Angel’s office. He knew Buffy was clearly pissed off, going by all the loud huffing and the grumblings under her breath, with bonus feet stomping going on behind him. Yet she followed him all the same.

 

*****

 

The Team was gathered in Angel’s office. Fred, Gunn, Lorne sat on one side, with Cordelia on the other, leaving two empty spots next to her for Spike and Buffy. Angel took a seat at one end of the table, giving up his usual place to Wesley. Who stood at the helm with Buffy’s book as well as a small stack of notes lay out on the table in front of him.

“Let me start by saying, by utilizing the Primordial Sanskrit passage in the Devandiré Codex I was able to establish a pattern of characters, or if you will, an alphabet, which was rather useful with the overall translations.” Wesley opened Buffy’s book to the last page. “Many of the earliest passages I found were detailed chronicles of the endless battles between mankind and the Old Ones. It appears by all accounts the Old Ones were nearly invincible and the fate for mankind was almost all but lost. This remained so until The Powers intervened and gave three powerful African shamans the guidance, strength and magicks to fight back. These men risked life and limb to harness a demon’s essence and create the greatest warrior for the Powers and the fiercest protector of mankind: ‘In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the’—”

“The Slayer.” Buffy abruptly stood from the table, knocking back her chair. “Wow. Great story, Wes. So now is everyone ready to know the actual truth about what the Shadow Men had done? They kidnapped Sineya, a girl from a local village, chained her to the floor of some cave and let a demon force its way inside her. And if that wasn’t bad enough, then they took everything away from her—her choices, her love ones, her future—while they sat on their collective asses as she fought alone the demons, night after night. Then finally one day, after some demon got the better of her and fulfilled that deep down death wish she always fought against but at the same time secretly longed for, she was done. And it was over. Only she didn’t know the truth that this goes on and on. It’s never over and it’s never done. Never.” Buffy pushed away from the table and stormed toward the door. Before reaching her destination, she turned back toward the table. There was still a question that was burning her mind and scorching her tongue—one she needed to ask.

“So tell me, why a teenage girl?”

Resembling snagged flies in a spider’s web, the others’ buzzing just stopped. She felt all eyes were on her, but her focus was solely on Wesley. She watched him look toward the others, maybe for support, maybe because he wasn’t sure what answer she wanted. All stayed quiet until she heard a voice. But it wasn’t Wesley who had responded. It was Spike.

“Well, quite simple really. At that age, a girl’s body is strong enough to accept and contain the demon, but their mind is still young enough to be malleable. Impressionable. Willing to accept what they are told to do. No questions. No hesitations. And none of those pesky independent thoughts. Add to that no family or friends and only her Watcher to rely on? Easy pickings for the Council. Now, if the chosen one was obstinate or willful, and wouldn’t play good littl’ puppet in the Council’s show, well, no worries, it’s an easy fix. See, it never truly mattered ‘bout the girl at all. It never mattered if she lived or died, since the Council had their surety that when one snuffs another one rises. All nice and neat like. A Slayer’s disposable and in the end, the only thing that had mattered to the Council was that the weapon in their hand was easily wielded. Nothing more.”

Buffy felt all the color draining from her cheeks, yet she felt a white-hot heat racing through her veins bringing her to the knife’s edge. She needed to get out of there. Now.

“Buffy!”

Ignoring Spike calling out to her, Buffy rushed from the room. Without direction, only purpose, she made her way through the maze of hallways, suddenly finding herself where today all started, the storage closet. Once inside she frantically searched through the stacks standing between her and the escape hatch. A few moments later, she heard the door open and felt Spike behind her. She didn’t stop.

“So, time to leave, is it? In case you were unaware, there is a front door to this place.”

Buffy heard Spike sidestepping the flurry of toilet paper rolls as she continued her search. “So not in the mood right now, Spike. Get the hell outta here.”

“No, we need to suss this out.”

Knowing Spike was going to be a Grade-A pain about this; Buffy spun around and faced off with him. Every moment that passed, she felt her anger mounting. It was now reaching the level of all consuming. “No, no we so don’t. Go. Away,” Buffy grounded out her warning through gritted teeth. But, of course, instead of Spike listening, in his typical, pig-headed way he challenged her by stepping closer and invaded her personal space. This only added fuel to the already raging fire in her belly.

“So you wanna suss this out? Fine. Where should we start? Huh? Should we start with how The Slayer of Slayers is here to tell me some more about how disposable slayers are? How disposable I am? Or maybe you’re gonna impart more of your twisted wisdom by explaining away what those bastards had done to Sineya and every other girl who became and died, or will die, all in the name of being a slayer? Or my personal favorite, do you want to talk again about the two slayers you killed? You want to talk about that?” Buffy was met with only his silence and stare. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Excuse me.”

Buffy turned back to the task at hand. After tossing away a few more rolls, she unearthed the lever. Without finesse or tempering her own strength, she grabbed the offending wooden handle and accidently broke it in half. “Damn it!” Behind her she heard Spike dropping to the ground, barely managing to avoid the flying piece of wooden handle leaving Buffy’s grip.

“Bloody hell, Slayer!”

Buffy turned and her eyes widen as she stared at the shard of wood imbedded in the wall. It stuck in the place where Spike was once standing, right where his heart was just moments before.

“Spike! Oh my god, Spike, are you okay?” Buffy knelt, her hands urgently running over him checking for any injuries. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“’m alright, no worries. Guess that’ll teach me for interrupting you when you’re in a snit, yeah?”

Spike gave her a smirk which she couldn’t help returning with a soft smile of her own. In spite of her going for his heart, figuratively and even more so, literally, she knew with a few smiles, all was good between them again. Well, good as good can get with all that was going on.

“Now that all the wooden killing implements are safely out of reach, care to tell ol’Spike what’s goin’ on in that pretty littl’ head of yours?”

Spike sat up and tenderly took both of her slightly shaky hands in his, stilling them. She felt herself instantly calming. Buffy lowered herself and sat on the floor across from Spike. It was amazing how at one time Spike was the one inciting her anger, not quelling it. In such a short period of time, he’d become her anchor in the endless turbulence that was her life. And right now, she knew he’d patiently wait until she was ready to talk. It didn’t take long.

“It’s just…listening to Wesley, then you, talk about slayers like we are, like I am some sort of answer to a problem. That we’re nothing more than a multipurpose tool, like some demon Swiss Army knife or something else just to use and dispose of. Like we’re not an actual living, breathing human beings, but things and…it, it really pissed me off. Which, hey, was already half way there cause, hello? Sore subject. Between the whole chaining me to a cave floor and having starring roles in my dreams, I wasn’t too peachy keen about the Shadow Men to begin with. And let’s just say, for the last few months I’ve been pretty on edge already and this was the final two-hand shove over.”

Buffy felt Spike brushing his thumbs tenderly across her wrists, his touch was the soothing balm for her pain. “No doubt, luv. But, and now ‘m playing devil’s advocate here, let’s not necessarily throw Percy to the wolves quite yet.”

Buffy shot him that look, the stake first ask questions later look, and she knew that he knew he had to talk quickly.

“Now hear me out. Yeah, he’s on Team Angel now, but you gotta remember all the years the Council had their mouths at his ear, cramming his head so full of shite that it’s no surprise whatever he had to say on the matter would all be from rote. The words blurting out like some bleedin’ reflex. Watchers, just like their keeps, were never meant to have a mind of their own. They were taught to always follow, keep in line. Never lead. And never question the Council. Good little automatons, they were. “Just bricks in the wall”.” Spike shook his head in what was seemingly annoyance. “And you of all people know what comes from a Watcher stepping out of ranks. Ol’ Ripper was kicked out of the Council, nearly deported, and no doubt there were other nasties those wankers threatened. But the only reason why nothin’ came of any of it, no doubt, was his bitch Slayer.”

“Hey!” This earned him a half-hearted indignant swat from Buffy. Spike grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. One by one, he placed a soft kiss to each knuckle, his eyes never leaving her face as she felt herself softening with every tender caress and word.

“Who, they knew without a doubt” kiss "was willing to risk her own life and limb” kiss “and had a hundred times over” kiss "to fiercely protect those she loves.” Spike gently drew her forward, placing the final kiss to her lips. Then just as quickly as it began it was over. It was way too soon for her liking.

“Now, let’s get back, sweetheart. Despite you storming out, I know you’re itching to finally know what’s going on.” With a parting kiss to the tip of her nose, Spike fluidly stood and held his hand out to Buffy.

But she couldn’t take his hand, not yet. There was something else troubling her. Something she’d buried so deep inside that had during the past year, along with loosing Spike, nearly hollowed out her insides. And finally after all this time, she was finally letting these memories rise to the surface and for the tears to come. “What’s this all about, luv?” Spike knelt in front of her and gently gathered her hands, again steadying her and giving her the strength to ask the question burning inside.

“Am I just as bad as the Shadow Men? I did exactly what they did. To win a war, I sacrificed hundreds, maybe thousands of potentials by making them slayers. And I never, not once, thought about what would happen after. I was only focused on the fight. I never thought how I was changing their whole lives while I selfishly took away their right to make their own decisions and choices. I took them away from their families. I took away everything.” Buffy pulled her hands away and angrily swiped away her tears. “No, I’m worse. I knew what being the slayer meant and I still forced on each and every one of them this life, and I in turn, gave them all a death sentence. I’m so much worse.”

Buffy was afraid to look up, afraid of what she might see in his eyes: Loathing. Disappointment. Agreement. Yet when his fingers cupped her chin and tilted her face up to meet his, she was relieved in what she found, pure unadulterated admiration.

“My girl’s still carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.” Spike lowered down and sat on the floor, then drew Buffy onto his lap. She rested her head against his chest and he ran his hand through her hair with soothing strokes. “You luv, are nothing like those sanctimonious bastards. Yeah, you made a decision to make all the potentials into an army of slayers. And yeah, you gave them a life they never asked for, but you also gave them a gift. A gift of an undeniable strength resonating from deep within that will never be taken or defeated by the likes of any demon. Or man. And never again will one girl ever have to face anything alone. You’re the one who gave them this amazing gift, Buffy. You selflessly gave them a piece of your soul. It was you. Only you.”

Buffy felt Spike place a lingering kiss to the crown of her head, while the cotton of his shirt drank up her tears. Buffy nuzzled into him and she murmured the faintest, “Thank you.” into chest. They stayed this way until she felt ready to face the world again. With a deep, cleansing breath, she shifted and he helped her to stand before following. Absently she righted herself, wiping away stray traces of mascara under her eyes and the wetness from her cheeks. Then taking a final steadying breath, she moved to the door and with one hand on the knob, she turned toward him.

“You’re right, you know. I’m willing to risk my life and limb to fiercely protect those I love.”

With that she opened the door and headed into the corridor, and Spike followed soon behind.