Chapter 38 - Acclimations

Buffy entered the Magic Box to find it rather busy. Giles was behind the counter, and Willow was explaining to someone the differences between leaves that all looked the same to Buffy.

“Noontime rush?” she asked, after the customer went to the register with a bag of herbs.

“Yeah,” Willow answered. “Oh, hold on—” she said, quickly heading across the store. “Hey! Those are not for sniffing!”

Buffy looked around. There must be a lot of repeat customers, she thought, recognizing one of the people who had been in yesterday.

Shrugging, Buffy meandered toward the table at the back, disinterestedly skimming over the books on its top. Half of the titles made no sense to her; some were even written in other languages. Pushing a book aside, her eyes fell on a manila folder beneath it. Summers, Buffy.

Flipping it open without thinking, Buffy found an assortment of information about herself. School transcripts, medical records, but most interestingly, her history as the Slayer. Obviously composed by Wesley, she decided, after skimming some of it. For some reason, she half expected it to be in some secret Watcher code.

However, she quickly guessed that the reason it wasn’t was because there were no secrets. Indeed, the most interesting thing had been left out entirely.

There was no mention of Spike at all.

In accounting for her meeting with Wesley, he had simply said that he had done business with her father and had become aware of her. Buffy supposed that she saw the reasoning for this. Telling Giles that here was another Slayer who had been involved with a vampire probably would not have gotten her off on the right foot with him.

Still, Buffy frowned. Wesley was doing a lot of editing lately, and while she could see the advantages to this particular bit, she still wished that he had seen fit to tell her that Spike was one of ‘the Aurelians.’

She skimmed over the rest of the file quickly, pausing briefly on the part about her fighting techniques, and then longer on the part about her dreams.

Suddenly feeling someone behind her, Buffy hastily closed the folder and turned around.

“Uh, sorry,” she said to Giles.

“It’s quite all right. It’s information regarding you; you have every right to peruse it. In fact, if there’s anything pertinent you’d like to add?” He was already reaching inside his jacket for a pen.

“No, it’s fine,” she quickly said. “I mean, it’s all good. Well, except the part about the creepy Faith dreams, that was kind of bad.”

“Have you had any more dreams?”

“No.”

“Is there anything else you remember about them?”

“Not really. They’re kind of hazy now.”

“You could perhaps keep a notebook beside your bed so you can record any future Slayer dreams.”

Buffy gave a non-committal shrug.

“Er, right,” he said, absently polishing his glasses.

“So what did you have planned for today?”

“I thought we might review some techniques? Let me see where you stand, so to speak.”

“You sure it’s not too busy out here?”

He glanced around the store. “It seems to be winding down, for the moment.”

“Okay, then.”

Giles led her to a back room, muttering apologetically as he did so. “It still needs a bit of work. I’ll have these overstock boxes removed as soon as possible. And we’ll get everything in working order.” He gestured to the wall, where there was a punching bag and a dummy, mats propped haphazardly over them.

Taking off his jacket, Giles pulled several mats away and arranged them on the floor.

Buffy glanced at the weapons, the only things in the room that were in impeccable order.

“So, what to start with?” she asked brightly.

“Er, are you quite all right in those clothes?”

She looked down at her sparkly red stretch top. “Oh, this? I’ve gone patrolling lots of times in stuff like this. It’s no big.”

“As you wish.” He handed her a staff. “I thought we’d start with something simple.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she took the staff and fell into stance. “Okay, but last time I used one of these I totally thrashed Wesley.”

“So I read.”

Giles made a move that she easily avoided.

“He made me really mad,” she said, spinning around.

“How so? He didn’t mention that part.”

He knocked her staff, but she countered, blocking each one of his blows perfectly.

“He does that a lot, it seems,” she said.

They exchanged a few more hits, and Buffy realized the slight difference to the way Giles handled the staff. He’d been trained, obviously, but whereas Wesley had fought from the technique alone—like someone who had memorized a set of complicated dance steps—Giles moved with experience.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“He has a tendency to leave things out.” She lunged and he dodged. “Like the fact that Slayers barely live a few years. I didn’t even question it until I nearly kicked it one night.”

Giles made a move with his staff, but she blocked it, catching his on the return and nearly disarming him. He regarded her stance. She was quite good, really.

“I got so angry at him for not telling me,” she continued.

“Ah.” He felt a sudden sympathy for the girl.

“I felt I just couldn’t deal, you know? That I didn’t want any part of it.”

Their staffs met in a cross, and there was a brief struggle before she gained leverage and pushed him back.

“And what happened after that?” he asked.

“I dealt with it,” she said with finality, knocking his staff away and sweeping his legs out from underneath him.

Giles decided not to question her further about it. Obviously she had made her peace with it, but it couldn’t be a pleasant topic to discuss.

Buffy watched his expression shift subtly, and she guessed his train of thought. Doubtful that he was anywhere near exactly how she had ‘dealt with it.’

“So, am I any good?” she asked.

Giles nodded from the floor.

He stood. “You are quite skilled with the quarterstaff. Tell me, what else can you do?”

“I can do cartwheels again,” Buffy said, beaming. “I know, not so useful with the Slaying, but it’s definite coordination and muscle improvement. And I can do the splits, which means I can do—this!” She quickly brought her foot up in a kick that paused inches from his face.

Giles leaned back slightly. “Ah, yes. Quite impressive.”

“And I can do that flipping up to your feet thing that you always see in the martial arts movies. I’m still working on back flips, though. And that running up a wall thing is out of my league—oh, but I can jump really high! And the staking, of course I’m down with the staking. Back, front, diagonal—it’s all good.”

“Do you make your own stakes?”

“This isn’t shop class.”

“Yes, well, in the past, Slayers were encouraged to whittle their own stakes.”

“Wesley just gave me a whole bunch.” Buffy looked at him and smiled. “And my new Watcher owns a magic shop. I bet you buy stakes in bulk.”

“I do,” he admitted, taking off his glasses. “Though it’s still a useful skill. Xander was getting rather adept at it before I found a reasonable supplier. But there is something to be said for self-sufficiency. What if you were trapped in the forest with a vampire and no weapons?”

“Not seeing a lot of forests here.”

“That’s not the point.”

Buffy shrugged. “Just grab a branch, then. It only has to be pointy enough.”

“So what other weapons?”

“I’m decent with a crossbow. I haven’t done much with swords, though.”

He brightened. “Let’s work on that, then.”

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“Well?”

Angelus made no movement.

Darla turned to look at him from the archway. “Not this again.”

“It’s just so predictable. Kill a virgin, fuck a virgin, kill a virgin…”

She crossed her arms. “You’ve been doing this ever since you finally wasted that Slayer.”

His eyes darted somewhat wistfully to the chains on the wall. “She was…fun. Even after all that torture, you never knew what she was going to do next, you know?”

“I can’t believe you’re brooding and getting all nostalgic. I think I should be jealous.”

“It wasn’t the sex,” he scoffed. “Well, at first it was the sex, but you weren’t here, so—”

Darla cleared her throat.

“It was the artistry, the mastery of breaking someone. But she was so strong, now I’m thinking I didn’t do it quite enough. It could have been magnificent. Complete. A Slayer… If I had it to do over again…”

“You killed a Slayer!” she said, walking into the room. “You should be high on it, not moping that you could have done it better. It’s been a month, and this weekly depression routine of yours is getting annoying. If you’re going to be this dull, I think I’ll leave.”

“But you only just returned,” Drusilla said, speaking up from her perch on the windowsill.

“She came back months ago, Dru.”

“I’m still lagging. Please don’t be cross. There’s another Slayer,” she added helpfully.

“What?” Angelus was suddenly staring at her and fully alert.

“Oh, yes.” She nodded.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“They only just told me, the stars.” She gestured to the daytime horizon. “So hard to see. Oh…”

Drusilla clutched at her head.

“Well?” he asked.

“She’s bringing the sunshine,” she whined. “It burns him, he’s lost, so so lost.”

“Who?”

“Lost, lost, lost to us,” she continued to chant, rocking back and forth on the sill. “He’s covered in it.”

Angelus looked expectantly at Darla.

“Well, I don’t know,” she grumbled.

As much as Angelus liked to see an ‘incoming,’ as he called it, most times he had little luck deciphering Drusilla’s visions unless they were unusually straightforward. Half the time, Dru herself didn’t seem to know what she was talking about.

“Another Slayer. Well, I feel better,” he announced, straightening up and giving Dru a pat before moving away. “I think I’ll be in the mood for virgin later.” He walked past Darla and disappeared down the hall.

Drusilla stared after the empty air, paused, and then glanced at Darla. “He’ll throw you to the sunshine.”

Then she primly stood and went to sit in the closet, where she kept the dog that she had ‘adopted’ and forbidden anyone to eat.

Darla looked at her a moment more, before she also walked out of the room.