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West of the Moon, East of the Sun by KnifeEdge
 
Chapter 17: Little Things
 
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Author's Notes: We’re going to take a little dip back into canon for this chapter. Sort of. I may have twisted it a little to suit my own purposes. Personally, this episode is a favorite of mine and I felt like it had a lot of possibilities that were never fully explored in the show. So while I’ve kept the majority of it intact, you’ll notice a few changes…Some of which may turn out to be more than they seem.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all recognizable characters, locations, and dialogue belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the various writers. Show writers and any other quoted authors have been credited in individual chapters. I'm making no money from this—it is purely in the name of fun.

Credits: This chapter contains dialogue from the episode "Triangle" written by Jane Espenson.

Betaed by Phuriedae

Banner by Phuriedae






Chapter 17

Little Things


It's snowing. Actual real, honest to god snowing.

In Sunnydale.

Hell has officially frozen over.

Well, the Hellmouth has.

"Is the heater on?" I ask, punching at one of Giles' mitt covered hands. He sniffles. I don't think that's an answer. "Look, I know it gets colder than this in England and I should be a strong little Slayer and suck it up, but…c'mon Giles, training means sweaty and sweaty plus freezing equals hypothermia."

Sniff. "The heater is on," he says. "And you're dropping your shoulder. I saw that coming." I roll my eyes and go again, punching the stupid mitts. I'm actually holding back. Giles is looking kind of peaked. "I'm well aware of what sweating in freezing temperatures can cause, however we're indoors and I see no reason to turn the shop into a sauna."

He sniffles again. I stop.

"You're sick," I tell him.

"I am not," he says, then sneezes. I step away. He looks a little sheepish. "Perhaps I've caught a small cold."

"How's your throat?"

"A bit scratchy."

"Uh huh. Head?"

"Swollen three times its normal size and stuffed with lead cotton, why do you ask?"

"Eyes?"

"Do you have a point, Buffy?" He blinks at me blearily.

"I don't think I should be punching you anymore. You need to be laying down. In bed. With soup."

He smiles a little. "Can it be chicken with the little chunks of carrots and peas?"

"It can have brandy in it if it'll help you get some rest. You look terrible," I tell him.

"Thank you ever so," he pulls the mitts off and slumps down on top of one of the weapons chests. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything if I took a day or two off."

***


"I get to run the store, right?" Anya asks, when Giles and I emerge and he informs everyone that he's going home. At this he looks alarmed.

"You? W-well, it's quite a lot for one person to take care of…," Giles says, then sneezes again. Everyone leans back a little, not wanting to catch it.

"I can do it," Anya says.

"I've got this recipe for an h-herbal tea that should help clear your head up, Mr. Giles," Tara says.

"That would be lovely," he tells her. "Do you have one that might get rid of it entirely?"

"Your head?" Xander asks, confused.

"Don't worry about the store," I tell him. "We'll take care of it. We can open and close and we'll deal with everyone."

"We can come by between classes!" Willow says, excited. "Usually I use that time to copy over my class notes with a system of different colored pens…but it's been pointed out to me that that's…you know, insane."

"I said 'quirky'," Tara corrects her.

"Hello! I work here! I'll take care of everything," Anya says, a little annoyed. I don't know why she's so anxious. It's not like he's going to be gone forever. Xander doesn't look up from his magazine when he gives his endorsement on her behalf.

"Um, Anya, while I completely trust you to…uh…take care of the inventory and the money, um…dealing with people requires a certain.. uh…finesse," Giles says, trying to diplomatic. It's ruined by the sneezing.

"I have finesse," she insists. "I have finesse coming out of my bottom."

"Don't worry, Giles," Willow says. "I'll help her take care of everything. It'll be ship-shape. Better, it'll be shop-shape."

"Xander, she's talking to Giles like I'm not here, make her stop."

"Perhaps I should stay," Giles says wearily as Anya and Willow bicker.

"No, you need to go home and get some rest," I tell him. "And I will make you go home and rest even if it means I have to point a crossbow at you."

It doesn't take quite that much prodding, but eventually we get him to go, leaving Anya and Willow jointly in charge and neither of them happy about it.

***


While Giles is, hopefully, in bed, I'm glad to see that Mom's finally out of hers and dressed. Actual clothes haven't been too common since the surgery.

"You're going in to work today?" I ask the next morning as I get ready to leave for class.

"Just for a little bit," she says. "It's been weeks and I'm sure I've got a ton of work to catch up on. I'm just going to go in and poke at it and see how scary it's going to be."

"You want to take a weapon with you? If it's really scary you can chop it up into little bits. That usually works for me," I tell her.

"Tempting," she says, pouring a glass of orange juice. "What classes do you have today?"

"History this morning, and…something else this afternoon? It's on my schedule,” I shrug and put my cereal bowl in the drying rack. “I'll check it later. I might swing by and see how Giles is after. He's got a cold."

"Just as long as it isn't the man flu," Mom says.

"Man flu?"

"Trust me, you'll know if he has it. He'll be grumpy and whine about everything and insist that he's dying even if he just has the sniffles. All men, when they're sick, eventually get the man flu."

Riley never got the man flu. Then again…he never got a cold. I don't think demon drug withdrawal counts.

***


Greek Art was…damp. Professors who spit when they talk should come with warning labels on the course description. But otherwise it looks interesting. Tara promised we could sit farther back next time.

"Good plan," I tell her as we file out of the lecture hall. "I need to keep this course. The only other thing that fits into my schedule is Central American Geopolitics. No, thank you. I even hear the word jungle, and all I can think of is him. You know, 'is that the one Riley's in?' Really don't need a daily two-o-clock knife in the heart."

"Is it that bad?" she asks.

"Sort of," I tell her. And it is. For awhile it was almost everything that made me think of Riley and my major relationship failure. Now it's only every third thing. "But…I'm starting to get perspective on the whole situation. You know, maybe Riley's…where he's supposed to be. You know, maybe he needed to be…where he was needed."

I've done a lot of thinking on this subject. Riley was the kind of guy who was born to be a hero. He loved being part of the Initiative when he thought he was making a difference by fighting demons, and he loved fighting at my side until the whole super strength thing got taken away. Riley was like me that way, he needed to be doing something. It was a choice he made, something that made him happy. And when he felt like he couldn't do that anymore? That's when things started to fall apart, I think.

I know I shut him out, and I'll always be sorry for that, always wish I could have told him that. But I really think that it wasn't just me that he was unhappy with. He needed to be needed…and I couldn't do that for him. What I needed from him wasn't a hero. I wish he'd come back so I could help him understand that.

"Willow says that everything happens for a reason," Tara says.

"But you ever notice people only say that about bad things?" I say. Tara laughs softly. I'm really glad she's my friend. "But not for me the furrowed brow. What do you say we go pick up Willow and indulge ourselves in a little after-school hamburger? Maybe stop by and cheer up Giles?"

"I guess we could,” Tara says. “She might still be at the magic shop. I was there earlier and she and Anya kinda got in this squabble…Xander and I sort of cleared out. He was pretty upset."

What? "Anya and Xander are in trouble?" I ask, feeling a bubble of panic rising up in the middle of my chest.

She shakes her head quickly. "Oh, no I-I said that all wrong. It was nothing. Willow and Anya were sort of fighting and then Xander kinda snapped at them and he left."

"Xander left? He left Anya?" Oh, god…he can't leave. When you get in a fight you can't…you can't just leave. You have to stay and talk and…and…fix things.

"Ummm…no, not 'left her' left her…he just left," Tara says. "It was only a little thing, it—"

"Little thing?" I ask. "See, the thing is…the…little things get bigger, you know and…and… and…if you don't catch the…little thing and, then BOOM! You have this…this… whole HUGE thing!"

Tara looks alarmed. She should be alarmed. This isn't good. Xander and Anya can't fight. They can't. They have to stick together, because if they can find love together then…then there's hope, isn't there? For me?

"Not, not them with the little things…they can't break up!"

"Oh, I think…"

"They have a beautiful love," I tell her and suddenly I'm crying again and she's got her arms around me, patting me on the back. "They have a miraculous love…"

Okay, so…maybe my perspective is still a little on the wonky side.

***


When we get to the Magic Box, however, it's clear something is very, very wrong. The place is trashed.

"Buffy!" Tara says, panicked. The wind is cold where it's blowing in through the open door, scattering paper and small things across the floor.

"Willow? Anya?" I call out, but there's no answer. Tara heads into the training room while I check the storeroom downstairs. When we come out, it's clear they're not here. There's no one here, and I can't imagine Anya leaving the store like this for anything less than a disaster of epic proportions. And speaking of epic proportions…whatever was here looks like it was massively huge.

"Buffy, something's been here and Willow's gone," Tara say, wringing her hands.

"Don't worry, we'll get her back. I promise. Come on, this thing's probably leaving a huge trail."

We shut the door and lock it to keep anyone from deciding to pick over the mess, then head out to track …whatever this is. The snow from the other day has melted, but it's definitely not hard to see where it's been. Cars are smashed along the side of the road, lampposts are down. Sometimes it looks like it's backtracked or looped on itself, so it takes us a few tries before we figure out where it's headed…

Where most evil things in Sunnydale go for fun and good times: The Bronze.

***


Willow, Anya, Xander, and…bizarrely enough, Spike, are just inside when we come in.

"I wish Buffy were here," I hear Willow say, just before I walk in the door.

"I'm here," I tell her, ready to get to business. She looks at me, surprised.

"I wish I had a million dollars!" she says, then looks sheepish. "Sorry. Just checking."

There's a …something…in the middle of the Bronze. He's big, he's ugly, and majorly stinky. Also, he's got a hammer that looks like it's heavy enough it could clobber my whole head. Not good.

"What's going on? Where did he come from?" I ask.

Anya's the first to speak up. "Willow stole ingredients and released him from a purple crystal. He's a troll."

Wonderful. "You did this?" I ask Willow. Well, it was only a matter of time before another spell went kablooey.

"Me?" she says. She's got whoops-face. "No, we. I mean…us." She points at Anya. "Uh, her. It's very complex."

"We can stop him," Anya says. "Willow, do the spell."

Will barely gets a few words out before the troll is advancing on us. "Stop!" he roars. Okay…let's add loud to the list of his bad qualities. Also…only in Sunnydale can a troll wander into the Bronze and nobody runs fleeing for their lives. We've got a pretty big audience. Oh, well. At least he's not invisible.

"Nobody lets me finish!" Willow complains.

"You…told the witch to do that, Anyanka," the troll growls. "You seem determined to put an end to all my fun. Just like you always did when we were dating."

Uh…

What, huh?

I think the entire Bronze turns to stare at Anya, who is sputtering and looking…embarrassed? I don't think I've ever seen Anya look embarrassed about anything.

"You…dated him?" Xander asks, blinking at his girlfriend.

"You dated a troll?" I ask. Okay…so maybe vampires and werewolves aren't the ishiest things you can date.

"And we're, what? Surprised by this?" Willow says. She has a point.

"Well," Anya says, "he wasn't a troll then! You know, he was just…this big, dumb guy, and…well…you know, he cheated on me and I made him into a troll, which, by the way is…how I got the…the job as a vengeance demon." She's quiet when she finishes.

Troll guy, on the other hand, is not. He's smashing things and roaring and people are finally getting the idea that maybe it's time to run.

"I did not cheat! Not in my heart!" the troll roars. Oh, really? "It was only one wench! I-I had had a great deal of mead! Next thing I know, I'm a troll! Oh, you did this Anyanka. You will die for this!"

Why do men always make the same stupid, ridiculous excuses? It was just one wench. It was just one time. It was only physical. It didn't mean anything. This is all your fault.

This jerk is going down.

"But…you seem to enjoy the…the being a troll," Xander points out.

"I adjusted," the troll says, shrugging. "And then what happened? Witches. Filthy, dirty, disgusting witches. They trapped me. I was imprisoned in that crystal for centuries. Oh, a curse on all witches! All must die!"

Right. Clearly, Troll Guy has issues.

"Willow, again," I tell her, trying to prod her into getting with the magic so we can get this guy out of here before he starts smashing things up more.

Only…it doesn't work. Why is it when you want magic to work, it never does? But when you don't…there it is, screwing up your life.

Troll boy must figure that this is his chance, because he lunges at Willow. Alright, lets see how good this big boy is. I kick him hard on his initial rush, then pound him farther back until he's away from my friends. When he swings his big meaty fist, I duck, but he connects with someone behind me, sending them flying. I manage to get a hold of him and pin him to a nearby pool table, which groans under his weight. We both wrestle for his hammer, but he shoves me off with enough force that I go flying and land on something hard, cold, and leathery.

Spike.

Ouch.

I half expect Spike to yank me down, but instead he grabs me by the waist and tosses me to my feet. Only by then things have taken a turn for the worse.

Troll boy is smashing out the balcony support columns. I barely have time to look up and see it about to come down on my head before Spike flies out of nowhere, wraps his arms around me in a full body tackle and hits the floor, rolling us out of the way as the balcony comes crashing down. The way he hit and rolled, I don't think I even touched the ground, and we end up with me on top of him, wrapped in his arms.

"Alright, Slayer?" he asks, frowning up at me.

"Lemme up," I tell him, trying to disentangle myself. "Why didn't your chip fire?"

"Wasn't trying to hurt you, you daft bint," he grumbles, letting go of me and waiting 'til I'm up to stand himself. "Ungrateful bitch," he mutters under his totally wasted breath. Whatever, I don't have time to deal with this. Only the troll doesn't appear to be anywhere in sight.

I head for Willow, Anya, and Xander who are standing nearby looking stunned. "Where is he?"

"Gone," says Willow, wringing her hands. Well, obviously gone.

Right. Time for action. "Xander, follow him. Anya, Willow, head back to the magic shop and find a spell that will actually stop him."

They head out. I help Tara move some debris to get to some people who are still pinned, then look around for anyone else stuck in the rubble. Spike is digging at a huge piece of flooring.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Helping," he says, grunting a bit as he starts to lift the flooring. "Someone down there." I don't even want to think about how he knows that. Probably some vampire smell thing. I give him a hand, and between the two of us we easily manage to shift the piece of floor out of the way. Sure enough, there's a guy down there, partially protected by some bent metal pieces that usually hold lighting equipment. I help haul him out. He's pretty badly shaken, but seems mostly okay. The gash to his head is bleeding, but head wounds generally do.

When I glance at Spike he's eying the guy strangely, the muscles in his jaw clenching tightly. Oh, ewwwww…tell me he's not thinking about eating this guy.

He catches me looking at him and backpedals quickly. "Not gonna sample," he says. "Know you wouldn't like it." Oh, god, I was right. He was thinking of eating this guy.

"The fact that it even occurred to you is revolting, you know that?" I tell him. "Besides, you don't feed off disaster victims because it's wrong, Spike. Not just because you want to avoid getting punched in the face."

He scowls as if he thinks I'm in the wrong, his jaw practically popping as the muscles in it tighten. "Look, I can help, yeah?" he says, finally. "With the troll? Give me something to do. You said you'd give me a chance."

"I said we'd see," I remind him.

"Extra muscle here, Slayer. Not asking for anything but a chance to fight. Unless you want me to stick around here and—"

"No," I say. Spike, left in a room full of bleeding people is a disaster waiting to happen. Or…you know, another disaster. He could feed like a king in this room and I know he knows it. He's probably hoping I'll let him stay. "There's too much blood here. I'm not going to risk it." And the truth is…this troll guy is pretty strong. An extra set of hands might not be a bad thing. "Fine," I tell him. "Xander's tailing the troll, but I'm not sure where they went—"

"I can track 'em," he says eagerly. "That troll's got a stench a few miles long."

"Ewwwwwww." Troll stench. Yuck. And Spike tracking it by smell? Double yuck. Still, it would save some time. As we're getting ready to leave, Tara joins us.

"I want to come, too," she says. "Willow might need h-help."

"Any idea why the spell fizzed?" I ask as we head out onto the street. Spike stops just outside the door and closes his eyes, then sniffs. He turns his head first right, then left, then his eyes pop open.

"This way," he says, leading us down the alley.

"I don't…I don't know," Tara says. "It sounded like…maybe part of it was missing?" She stuffs her hands in her coat pockets, trying to warm them. We're both jogging a little to keep up with Spike's longer legs.

"What was Anya talking about back there? She said Willow was stealing ingredients?"

"Oh," Tara says. "Well…n-not really but…she was working on that sunlight spell and…well, she said Giles w-wouldn't mind, so…"

He probably wouldn't, and if he did he probably wouldn't say anything, but with the way Willow and Anya have been arguing lately it's no wonder Anya decided to have a cow about it. Spike pauses beside a clobbered parked car, swearing, his head swiveling as he tries to track the scent, and I wonder for a minute whether Angel ever does this. Finally he turns and heads toward Maple Court.

The Magic Box. Crap. The troll's heading for Willow and Anya.

***


When we reach the Magic Box, it's clear that something is already going down inside. Anya and Willow are yelling, and when we come through the door we're greeted by the site of the troll about to smash in Xander's head with his giant hammer.

"Buffy!" Anya yells as I rush the troll. "The hammer! The strength's in the hammer!" Xander scurries out of the way as I go after Troll Guy, ducking his swings.

Oooof.

Okay, most of his swings. Ow, that hurt.

Spike jumps in and starts hitting the troll while I get to my feet, then we both go to town on him, forcing him to try to fight two opponents at once.

Unfortunately, he's pretty big, and we're not making much of a dent in him.

I hear Anya yelling from behind us. "Hey Olaf!"

Olaf? Troll guy's name is Olaf? A flailing fist catches me in the side of the head and knocks me dizzy for a moment. Right. No time to get distracted.

"Olaf! You're as inadequate a troll as you were a boyfriend!"

Oh! Distracting. Okay. Good. Just not distracting me.

I manage to land another blow and he grunts. Spike's picked up some wood and is hitting on him from behind, but I guess troll skin is pretty tough because he doesn't even seem to notice.

Anya's still yelling taunts from across the room, "Uh…you're hairy, and unattractive, and even women trolls are put off by your various odors."

Crap…Suddenly I've got a troll hand wrapped around my throat, and a hammer aimed at my head. Spike leaps up and grabs him from behind, wrapping his hands around the troll's horns and yanking hard. Olaf roars, but he's still choking me. My vision is starting to get blurry.

"And your roar is less than full-throated!" Anya yells. Irritated, the troll tosses me away from him to crash into a wall, then pulls Spike off his back and throws him on top of me.

"Ow!" I say, shaking my head. "Off!"

"Right," Spike growls, rolling off me and shaking his head. "I really hate this wanker," he mutters, climbing to his feet. He puts out a hand and helps me up.

"I don't know what a wanker is," I say, "but I'm not too fond of him, either."

A loud clang gets our attention. Olaf's hammer is all the way across the room and Willow's grinning ear to ear. Way to go, Will! Let’s see how tough he is now.

"So, your power's in your hammer?" I say, as I go in for a swing. That's when he backhands me, hard, sending me flying into Xander.

Why is it that I keep landing on guys tonight? They are not cushy.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot he still has all that troll strength," Anya yells. Olaf has turned on Spike, punching him hard in the ribs and knocking him into a display case, which shatters, sending wood and glass and magic stuff all over.

"Oi! Watch the wood!" Spike says.

This time I manage to land three whole punches and an arm-twist before he tosses me off him again. Once more onto Spike. This is getting predictable.

"We need a game plan," I mutter as the vampire helps me to my feet.

"Yeah," Spike says, eying the troll warily. "Left or right, Slayer?"

"Right," I say as the troll advances on us.

"Got it," Spike says. "Let's go."

"What are you fighting for, minuscule blond ones? Your friends? These two? They will never last." He waves at Anya and Xander. What does he know? He's just a big stupid troll. Of course they'll last. They have to. "Anyanka is very difficult to live with, and he…he's ludicrous and far too breakable. Their love will never last."

I don't know if it was the 'hard to live with' thing or the 'breakable' thing but suddenly I feel like he's talking about me and Riley…and it pisses me off. I jump up and kick him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back. Spike's right there with me, pounding on him in between my punches, driving him up against the wall.

We take turns beating on him, and whatever it is we're doing, it seems to be working.

"Their love," I tell Olaf, with a punch to punctuate each word, "will last forever."

My last one sends him crashing, unconscious, to the floor. Spike kicks him hard in the head.

"That's for calling me minuscule, you bastard," he says.

For a moment we both stand over the unconscious troll, panting. Then we look at each other.

"I could have done it without you," I tell him.

"Yeah," he says, suddenly flashing me a grin. "You could've. Glad you let me in on it, though. That was fun."

"Fun?" Suddenly I remember another fight, a few years ago, in this same shop. 'Come on, don't tell me that wasn't fun,' Spike said.

"Well, not the cracked ribs," he says, gingerly patting his side. "But, yeah. So…what are we gonna do with him?"

I shake my head, unwilling to examine Spike's idea of fun too closely. Even less willing to examine my own.

***


After some discussion, Willow manages to find a spell that'll teleport the demon to another dimension. I'm not sure it's possible to kill him. I tried sticking him with a sword, but it was kinda like trying to stab through stone. So teleportation…best option.

Once it's finished I have to ask: "Where did you send him?"

"The land of trolls," Anya says. "He'll like it there. Full of trolls."

"It's hard to be precise, though. Alternate universes don't stay put. Trying to send him to a specific place is sort of like…like…trying to hit a …puppy, by throwing a live bee at it," Willow explains.

Huh?

"Which is a weird image and you should all just forget it," she says.

"It's possible that he's in the land of perpetual Wednesday," Anya says. "Or…the crazy melty land, or, you know, the world without shrimp."

"There's a world without shrimp?" Tara asks. "I'm allergic."

"He's…probably in troll land," Willow says.

I smile. "I only care that he's not here, and I got this nifty souvenir," I say hoisting his hammer. It's big, and ugly, but it's dense, and makes me feel about ten times stronger. I wonder if I could knock Spike clear across Restfield with it? I put it down on top of the counter top, so we can look at it later. Only, it kinda breaks the glass.

Oops. "Place was pretty trashed anyway," Xander says.

"Well, see how things worked out?" I say, smiling. Willow and Tara are holding each other, and Xander and Anya are hugging…okay well, Anya's sort of propping Xander up since he's white as a sheet and looks like he might pass out at any moment. There's a chance his wrist is broken. Spike's off in the corner picking through some of the debris, probably stealing stuff. "Look at you guys," I say, choosing to focus on Xander and Anya. "So good and alive and…together."

I don't know why I'm crying. Really. I don't.

"Oh, God…I'm just so happy for you," I say, sniffling. Someone hands me a tissue. "Thanks," I say, blowing my nose.

"Welcome. This your purple crystal, Red?" Spike says holding the thing out. It's not very big.

She takes it from him. "Yeah," she says, puzzled. "What about it?"

"Nothing," he says. "Just…bit curious where it came from. Old crystal that just happens to have Anyanka's ex locked inside doesn't seem like something someone would just leave lyin' about."

Willow frowns. "It was in the store," she says. "I…in the display case, I think?" She looks at Anya, who takes the crystal.

"I'll check the inventory," she says. "You're right. It is a little strange."

"Anya," I ask, Slayer intuition suddenly clanging bells in my head. "Where are trolls from? Northern Europe?"

She looks up from the crystal, her face paling. "Scandinavia," she says…"Uh, Norway, Finland…"

We all stare at the crystal.

"I'm sensing a theme here," Xander says.

***


We take Xander over to the emergency room so they can look at his wrist, which, as it turns out is definitely broken. By the time we’re done there it’s so late that we decide to meet up early at the Magic Box in the morning to see about getting the damage picked up.

“What’s Mr. Giles going to say?” Tara asks.

“I’ll tell him,” Anya says. “He left me in charge, so…it’s my responsibility.” She doesn’t look happy about it.

“We’ll tell him,” Willow says. “Since we both screwed up. Only…can we do it after we try to get it all cleaned up? Cause, you know, maybe that way he won’t …freak out?”

“Good plan,” Anya says. And that’s that.

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, and mom has long since gone to bed. Her light is on, though, so I knock.

“Buffy?” she asks, sleepily, looking at the clock.

“Yep,” I say. “Sorry, we had a little…troll incident. Well, not so much with the little as with the huge but…I can tell you about it in the morning.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she says. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“I’m good,” I say and turn her light off before going to the bathroom to check on all my bruises. I’ve got some nice ones on my throat, so I guess tomorrow is a scarf day, and my back and ribs are livid. Nothing’s broken, though.

Still, I’m sore enough that when I fall asleep I beg out of sparring with Mr. Gordo for the first time in weeks. He doesn’t seem to mind, he just climbs in bed and sits by the headboard until I’m comfortable. Then we settle into the next part of our routine, and I tell him about my day.

I tell him about Olaf and Anya and Willow. I tell him about Spike helping. I even tell him about my weird mood swings. Then something occurs to me. It takes some quick math and trying to remember the date, but then I blush.

“Oh,” I say, “I know why I’m so weird moody. Stupid hormones. You’re lucky you’re a guy…only, do female vampires still…you know?”

No.

I sigh. That’s so not fair. But it makes sense. Then something else occurs to me.

“Um…can you…uh…can you smell it when I’m…?” I can’t quite bring myself to ask the question.

He hesitates for so long I change my mind.

“Know what? Let’s pretend I didn’t ask that question, okay? I really don’t want to know. It’ll make me all self-conscious and…I like that I’m not self-conscious here. I like being able to talk to you.”

A cool hand grips mine for a moment, and squeezes gently. Then he returns to his side of the line.








 
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