Chapter 55 - Weapons

“Ew.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s ew.” Buffy looked down at the dead demon. “Really makes me appreciate the vamps going poof. Do I have to bury it?”

“Nah.”

“I can’t just leave it here for people to see.”

Spike grabbed the demon’s legs and dragged it into the bushes. “This is the Hellmouth. These things take care of themselves.”

“So it’s in the bushes now. It’s still not gonna disappear.”

“Not on its own.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Believe me, you don’t wanna know.”

Buffy paused. “Again, ew.”

She looked at the bushes again, but trailed after Spike as they made their way through the rest of the park. It was near the end of patrol, and after checking the adjacent cemetery, they started walking back to her house.

As they neared her block, she said, “You still coming by tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got to sleep late tomorrow. And I’m gonna need coffee.” She glanced at him hopefully. “Maybe you could bring me a midnight snack.”

“Maybe.”

“Otherwise I won’t be able to do anything.”

“Right.”

“I’m not good at staying up all night.”

“I can keep you busy.” Spike grinned at her.

“Ha ha.”

Spike left her at the corner, and Buffy walked the few remaining feet to her house.

She opened the front door, an extra key jingling on her ring. Spike had pressed it into her palm at the end of patrol the other night, with a ‘Here you go, pet,’ and no further discussion. Not that she was going to argue about it.

Buffy crept into the kitchen, careful not to wake her mother as she fixed a midnight snack.

But when was she supposed to use the key? Should she still knock, or just walk in? It seemed rude to walk in, even though that’s what he did to her—and through the window no less. (But she wasn’t that annoyed by it; it was sort of cute, in a Spike way.) Maybe she should only use the key if he wasn’t there. But wouldn’t it be weird for him to come back and just find her there? Buffy frowned as she poured herself some milk. See, this was the sort of thing that guys simply didn’t think about when they went around giving keys.

The other part of her brain said to shut up and stop obsessing. Spike had given her a key to make things easier, not more complicated. He wouldn’t care how she entered, when she came and left, or how much time she spent there.

He probably wouldn’t care if she lived there.

-----

Several hours after sunset the next night, Buffy made her way to the Magic Box. Willow let her in the front door, saying, “Are you sure? Cause you don’t have to. I mean, it’s not like it’s hard, but it’s not like you have to.”

“It’s cool.” Buffy shrugged. “This way someone gets a night off, right?”

She nodded. “I think Giles is. He said something the other day about needing his sleep. Xander doesn’t seem to mind, and since it’s my boyfriend, of course I’m going to one night. But I would do two, if you’re—”

“I think I can handle watching a chained up werewolf one night a month.”

Willow smiled. “Okie-dokie. I’ll show you where he’s at.”

She led Buffy into the training room, where a transformed Oz was contained in the back corner. Heavy manacles were attached to an iron ring in the wall, allowing him only a few feet of movement.

He looked at them as they entered and growled slightly, but otherwise didn’t move.

“He’s been pretty good lately,” Willow said. “Sometimes he seems to like it when I read to him. Not that you have to read to him,” she added. “Giles and Xander don’t. And the tranquilizer gun is right there, but he’s never gotten out. Just, y’know, precaution.”

Buffy nodded.

“The keys for the chains are there. He can’t reach them, so you’ll have to unlock him after sunrise. Oh, and a few minutes before, you might want to go in the other room.”

“Why?”

“Well, he’s kinda…naked, after he changes.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Just give him a minute to reach his clothes.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“I think that’s it. You sure you won’t be bored? Cause I could stay.”

“Which would defeat the purpose of me taking over for a night. I’ll be fine. I can play with weapons,” she added.

“Okay, then.”

Willow gathered up her things and Buffy let her out the back door. She had barely sat down before there was a tapping noise. Thinking that Willow had forgotten something, she opened the door, only to find Spike.

“What if she saw you?” she asked as he entered. “What if she comes back?”

“Nah. Made sure she was around the building.” He turned to look at Oz. “So, this is your little friend’s wolf boy, huh?”

Oz growled and shifted his chains, but seemed to sense that attacking the vampire would not be in his best interest.

“I fought a werewolf once,” Spike continued, walking toward the center of the room. “Long time ago. It was vicious. I nearly lost my ha—”

“Well, Oz is fine. Willow says he’s never even killed anyone. They’ve chained him up since it started.”

Spike shrugged. Buffy noticed the bag in his hand.

“What did you bring me?” she asked.

“Midnight snack.”

Buffy grabbed at it, but Spike held the bag out of her reach.

“It’s not midnight yet, love.”

She jumped, but he twisted back.

“You eat it now, you’ll be hungry later.”

“Oh, fine,” she grumbled.

Spike set the bag down, and Buffy gestured around the room. “So what are we going to do first?”

“First?”

“Yeah, you know, weapons. I’m ready to play with weapons.”

“You don’t ‘play’ with weapons.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I know. I use weapons. And I know how to use weapons. But not as well as I could,” she said pointedly.

“Weapons come later.”

“What about all that a Slayer should always have her weapon stuff? We haven’t actually fought with weapons yet.” She waved a stake around for emphasis.

Spike snatched it from her hand and threw it across the room. He raised both brows at her.

“I wasn’t ready,” she said, pouting. “I know, not the point.”

“A Slayer should always reach for her weapon. But weapons can be taken away.” Spike slowly walked halfway around her. “The first Slayer I killed, she had a sword. I didn’t. I killed her anyway.”

“Fine, so you’re good.”

“She was good. I was better.” He paused and looked at her. “I wanted it more.”

“Is this that Slayer death wish thing?”

“Maybe. With her, maybe not. The second one, yeah.”

“Well, I don’t have one.”

“Good.” He started to circle her again, his hand softly pushing under her hair to encircle her neck. “You have to want it—want to stay alive more than they want you dead.” Spike stopped when he was in front of her, pressing his fingers against the hollow of her throat.

“This is what any vamp is gonna be goin’ for. Blood is life, and right here is where it’s easiest to touch, easiest to taste. Easiest to take. Most of ’em, that’s the only thing they’ll be thinking. Yeah, some will just wanna kill you, but most want your blood with it.”

“Did you?” She wasn’t sure why she asked that.

“Did I what?”

“Have the blood of the ones you killed?”

“One I did, one I didn’t,” he said, voice flat.

“Why?”

“First time, just to prove that I’d done it. Second one, dunno. Didn’t seem like the thing to do.”

“How did you kill her?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Snapped her neck.”

His thumb tenderly rubbed over her collarbone.

“You fought them unarmed,” she said.

“I’ve already got a weapon,” Spike reminded her. “Anything else is extra.” He paused. “Yeah, you always need a weapon. But you’ve also got to be a weapon.”

“Angelus, is he the type to use weapons?”

“Not usually. To fight a Slayer, maybe.”

“He doesn’t just want to kill me. He doesn’t just want my blood. You know he doesn’t. He wants me.”

Spike’s jaw clenched.

“I get that I need to be able to take care of myself if I’m disarmed, I do. But right now we’ve got an entire room full of weapons and the whole place to ourselves—as long as we avoid the werewolf in the corner. Tonight, at least, I think weapons would be of the good.”

“All right, then,” he said after a moment. “So what do you fancy, pet?”

Buffy shrugged, moving away. “Let’s start with the staffs. I beat Wesley and Giles with those.”

Spike smirked. “I won’t be so easy.”

She picked a staff off the wall and tossed him another one. “I’m counting on it.”

They circled each other slowly, testing the other as they worked up to fighting.

Predictably, Spike was better than Giles and was so much better than Wesley. He fought with experience, handling the quarterstaff with sinuous movements. It flowed like an extension of his body. But what looked light and quick was practiced and hard; even as he twirled it, his grip was firm and unwavering.

They went round for several minutes before a quick twist spun Buffy’s staff out of her hands. Spike whirled around on the follow-through, his staff expertly freezing inches from her head.

Buffy tilted her head, leaning away from the blow that, if completed, could have broken her neck. She tapped her finger against the end of the wood. “See?” she said pleasantly. “We need to do more with weapons.”

-----

Around midnight, they stopped, and Buffy ate her snack. Spike had brought her doughnuts and a cold coffee drink in a bottle. Though he had forgotten to mention it, so now it was not so cold. Buffy put it in the mini-fridge in the back for later, and settled on water for the time being. Coming back into the room, she sat down cross-legged on the floor and set two doughnuts on a napkin.

Spike was swinging an axe around. “Watcher’s got quite a collection.”

“Yeah.” Buffy took a bite. “He’s really good at fencing.”

Spike made a dismissive noise. “Fencing.” He flipped the axe again.

“Hey, I know fencing is all—”

“Nancy boy?”

“—proper and stuff, but it’s all about technique, right? I need technique.”

“I’ll give you technique,” he scoffed.

“You can fence?”

“I can use a sword.” Spike turned back to the wall, picking up one sword, then another, and testing their weight. “Finish your food and we’ll get started.”

“With real swords?”

“It’s what you’d be usin’ to fight, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Balance on those foils is all wrong. Besides, I’m not the Watcher. I’m not gonna hit you and you’re not gonna hurt me. Although…” Spike paused, taking off his coat and draping it over a cabinet.

“Thought I wasn’t going to hit you.”

“You might get lucky.”

“I did knock you down a couple of times earlier.” Buffy wiped her hands and stood. She gestured to the duster. “Where did you get that thing anyway?”

There was a long pause. “New York.”

It took a moment for it to click. “It isn’t—you didn’t—oh God, you did—it is.”

“Stop lookin’ at me like that. It’s a coat, not a sodding scalp. And I’d say that by now it’s my coat.”

She couldn’t help asking, “So what did you get from the other one?”

Spike’s hand came up to trace the scar on his eyebrow. “I got this.”

-----

Hours later, Buffy was tiring. Even with Slayer strength, her arm was beginning to feel heavy. When her sword was easily wrenched from her grasp, she wasn’t surprised. He had disarmed her before this. A quick twist and he was behind her, knocking her to the floor even as he twirled. Buffy fell flat on her back and when she looked up, she wasn’t surprised to see his sword pointed at her chest.

She was surprised when Spike didn’t immediately shift his position.

Sword still in hand, he stared down at her and said, “I love your hair.”

Buffy wasn’t even going to contemplate the fact that while she had been struggling to keep up with him, he had been thinking about her hair. “I don’t think I can move.”

He gave her a ‘what do you expect’ shrug, tossing the sword to the floor and sinking down next to her on the mat. Spike leaned on his side, propping a hand under his chin.

“I think I forgot how to breathe,” she moaned.

His hand played with the strands spread out on the mat. “How it moves… How it falls when you lay down…”

Buffy couldn’t possibly see how he could want to lie next to her and play with her hair. She felt gross and sweaty.

But his hand was so relaxing…

“Does that gem make you stronger?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“No…” His voice lingered.

“But?”

“The steady bit of Slayer blood isn’t hurting, I expect.”

“Are you saying I’ve been making you stronger?”

“Probably.” He twirled a wisp near her ear.

“Are you kidding?”

“No. But it’s gotta stop helping sometime,” he offered.

“Right.” Buffy wasn’t convinced. “How am I ever going to beat you if I’m making you even better?”

Spike ran his fingers through her hair. “When you do, you’ll be bloody brilliant.”

Buffy closed her eyes, leaning into his hand.

“Well, let’s hope, because right now, I seriously don’t think I can move.” She sighed. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“Why not?”

“Have to watch Oz.”

“Doesn’t look like he’s doin’ much.” Spike’s fingertips on her forehead. “An hour wouldn’t hurt you, love.”

“No one else got an hour.”

“No one else spent all night sparrin’ with yours truly.”

Buffy yawned, a half moan.

“I’ll keep an eye on the wolf.”

“You can’t leave the room,” she said, conceding.

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

“You have to wake me up if he does something. Like anything. In fact, wake me up if anything happens, period. And you have to wake me up before sunrise.”

“All right, pet.”

Buffy sighed again, lost in the soothing feeling of Spike’s hand slipping through her hair as she slowly drifted into unconsciousness.