In a graveyard at night Buffy was crouched on top of a crypt. She stood up, stake in hand. She looked around, and then leapt to the ground.
Buffy ran through the graveyard, pausing, she looked around.
A pair of arms burst out of a fresh grave but Buffy staked the vampire before it could finish coming out of the ground.
Buffy straightened up, and turned as another vampire emerged from another grave. She ducked his swing, threw a few punches, kicked him in the chest. He did a back-roll and came up to his feet.
Michael appeared out of nowhere and threw the vampire aside.
“Michael?”
Smiling, Michael said, “Buffy, what are you doing here?”
“My job?”
“Well, I just thought you were in the north sector.”
“Watch out!”
The vampire attacked Michael from behind. He kicked the vampire’s legs out from under him and threw him aside. The vampire hit a crypt and slid down.
“Never mind.” Buffy said.
Michael punched the vampire, and then staked him.
Another vampire emerged from the ground. Buffy spotted him and started forward with a yell, raising her stake.
Another person appeared from the left and tackled the new vampire, carrying him to the ground. Buffy looked bemused.
“Why do I even bother to show up?”
The two fighters got up; the newcomer was Spike. He blocked a couple of punches from the other vampire, then grabbed his arm.
“Spike, what are you doing here?” Buffy asked.
“Same thing as you and your Cub Scout here, I’ll wager.”
He landed a few punches and the vampire went down. Spike turned toward Buffy with a big grin.
“A spot of violence before bedtime.” Spike said.
The other vampire punched him in the face and he went down. He got to his knees, wiping blood from his nose. The other vampire growled. Buffy rushed forward.
Spike stood up, still wiping his nose with his hand. The other vampire attacked from the left. Buffy appeared from the right, shoved Spike out of the way, and staked the vampire.
Spike exhaled loudly, and Buffy gave him a dirty look.
“What? I softened him up.” Spike said.
He wiped more blood from his nose, sniffed it, and then licked it from his fingers.
“Better keep out of my way, Spike. I’m not gonna take this much longer.”
Michael walked over to join them.
“And I should do what in my spare time? Sit at home knitting cunning sweater sets?”
“Would it keep you out of my way?”
“She’s right. You shouldn’t be out here when she’s patrolling.” Michael said.
Buffy turned to Michael in exasperation as if she was going to say something, but she didn’t.
“Oh! I saw that. Looks like neither boy’s entirely welcome. You should take him home, Slayer. Make him stay there. I’ve got knitting needles he can borrow.”
Michael looked annoyed.
“Spike… I just saw you taste your own nose blood, you know what?” Spike grinned at her. “I’m too grossed out to hear anything you have to say. Go home.”
She stalked off. Michael gave Spike a dirty look, then followed. Spike looked injured.
Yelling after them he said, “It’s blood! It’s what I do!”
Buffy walked along, looking tired and annoyed. Michael caught up with her.
“Hey, hope I didn’t get in the way.”
He put his arm around her. She gave a fake smile.
“Of course not. I-I was just… startled. And, you know I don’t… love the idea of you patrolling alone.”
“Not much for bench-warming.”
“No, you made the squad. You… threw that vampire like he was a… teeny-weeny little vampire.”
Grinning, Michael said, “Hey, wanna go again? Come on, I bet this place is just teeming with aerodynamic vampires.”
Buffy looked around.
“Nah.” She paused. “Unless you wanna go back and kill Spike for the fun of it?”
Michael raised his eyebrows in a sort of shrug. They both turned and continued on their way.
Spike stared after them.
“I will know your blood, Slayer. I will make your neck my chalice… and drink deep.”
He wiped blood from his nose again, turned, and tried to stride away purposefully, but he fell into an open grave.
“Ow!”
“You can’t possibly be arguing that Marat didn’t betray the French Revolutionaries.” Willow said.
Willow and Buffy walking through the halls of a UC Sunnydale building filled with students walking around, talking, studying, etc.
“This was the guy who declared the rights of man, and then the next thing you know he’s… killing Girondin like it’s going out of style.”
“Will, you’re totally missing my point. Now, I agree that Marat wasn’t a real martyr, but the death in the tub… the neck wound, all that blood, just a little more fang-y than knife-y. I mean, Charlotte Corday wasn’t a real martyr either, but…”
“Buffy!” Willow stopped walking and grabbed Buffy’s hand.
“What?”
Willow was smiling hugely, “Listen to us! We-we’re arguing! We’re having a debate about a college lecture! I have dreamt of this day since… forever!” Then proudly. “You are turning into quite the student.” Buffy smiled. “Should I be watching my occipital lobe?”
“Your what?” Buffy asked confused.
“Occipital.” Willow pointed to her head. “The lobe in the back of your brain. You know, like, ‘should I be watching my back?’ But, you know, the… back of your brain.” She sighed.
“Apparently not. Don’t worry, Will, you still wear the smarty-pants in the family.”
“I don’t know. You’ve been studying… really a lot.”
“I’m trying. But they’re really piling on the reading, and Giles fills any free time I have with extra training… I’m starting to think this working hard is hard work.”
“Isn’t it crazy like that?”
“I thought it was gonna be like in the movies. You know, inspirational music… a montage, me sharpening my pencils, me reading, writing, falling asleep on a big pile of books with my glasses all crooked, ‘cause in my montage I have glasses.” Willow nodded. “But real life is slow, and it’s starting to hurt my occipital lobe.”
Sympathetically, Willow said, “Aw. Poor Buffy’s brain.” She patted Buffy on the head.
“Actually, I’m heading to training now. Do you wanna come with?”
“I’m in.” They started walking again. “Maybe we can argue some more about the French Revolution. Hey! Wasn’t that Robespierre the coolest?”
“Robespierre? You’re kidding me, right?”
“I’m just gettin’ it goin’.”
Xander was wielding a circle saw, cutting some wood, wearing safety goggles, standing in the middle of the magic shop. Giles was behind the counter wearing a dust-mask, painting something.
Giles’ voice was muffled by the noise, “It seems the plans worked perfectly.”
Xander stopped the saw and unclamped the piece of wood from the vice.
“Yes, blueprints, not a bad idea. That, and getting straight ‘measure twice, cut once.’ You know, for the longest time I had it backwards. Mess-y!”
Xander began fitting the piece of wood into the shelving that he was working on.
Giles pulled mask down from his mouth, so it hung around his neck, “Well, I must say, I’m very impressed.”
“Yeah, carpentry is pretty cool.”
There was a knock on the door. Giles went to answer it. As he walked across the shop he passed Tara standing by a small round table, wearing a long skirt, holding a deck of tarot cards. Anya was moving stuff around on the shelves.
“Oh! Who put the monkey heads near the Styx water? Do we want to pick exploded monkey out of our hair?” Anya picked up a jar and a monkey head, and walked across the room.
Giles opened the door. Willow and Buffy stood there, smiling.
“Trick or treat!” Buffy said.
“Hello, you two, come on in.” Giles said.
“Thank you, kind proprietor.” Willow said with a smile.
They entered.
“Hey, you.” Tara said to Willow.
“Hey!” Willow said, then looking around. “Oh, wow, this place looks great. Oh, I feel like a witch in a magic shop.” She picked up a jar from a table. “Ooh. Are these real newt eyes?” Willow looked at Giles.
“No, too… rich for my blood, I’m afraid. No, these are salamander eyes, it’s the… cataracts which give them their newt-like appearance.” Giles moved past her. “They’re really equally effective, though, it’s… just a matter of overcoming snobberies.”
Buffy put her purse down, and Xander was looking at a blueprint, holding a pencil.
“I’m telling you Giles. You gotta set up a blind taste test and prove once and for all that generic amphibian eyeballs are just as good.” Xander said.
“I don’t know. If you ask me, the newt name still means something.” Willow put down jar and walked off.
“You ready to train?” Giles asked Buffy.
“You betcha.”
“Shall we then?”
“We shall then.”
They walked off toward the back.
Willow was sitting at the round table, with Tara standing beside her. There were a lot of tarot cards on the table.
“I just… keep thinking how cool it would be, if we got a real psychic to sit up here and read fortunes and stuff.” Tara said.
“You should do it.” Willow said encouragingly.
“Not me. But, but I’d love to, to watch and learn. From someone who’s really good, you know?”
“You’re really good.” Willow held out her hands. “I’ll prove it. Here, do me.”
Tara nodded and sat down, putting down the cards, taking one of Willow’s hands. Willow watched her study it.
“Hmm.” Tara said.
“What do you see?” Willow asked.
“Willow hand.” Tara replied.
They both smiled.
Giles opened the door to the back room as Buffy and Xander watched. Giles held the door for Buffy.
Buffy entered, and looked around. Someone tackled her from the side, pulling her down. Giles and Xander looked surprised.
Buffy fell to the floor on top of Michael, who had his arms around her waist.
“Unh! Ow, Michael...”
They got up.
“Just keeping you on your toes.”
“Or off them, as it were. What’s gotten into…”
She stopped as she looked around the room and saw it for the first time.
“Oh my God. Look at this place!”
There was a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, a vault horse atop a set of mats, a stationary bike, and a scarecrow/dummy. At the far end there was something that looked like a mini-fridge. Against the far wall there was a set of weights. Symbols were painted on the floor and walls.
Buffy gasped, “Thank you.” She looked up at Giles. “Thank you… so much.”
Giles removed his glasses and then the mask that was still around his neck. “It’s just a start, you need a proper space to train, so…”
