Title: We Don't Need Another Eros
Word count: 5000 (I did it! I did it!)
Rating: Teen
Disclaimer a little further down.
No fish was harmed during the writing of this fanfic.
<center> WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER EROS
</center>
Prologue
‘It’s not just about sex, I really do love you,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her, pulling up his underwear.
‘Well, clearly.’ Her head rested in her hand, her elbow digging into the pillow still imprinted with the shape of his head. She drew the quilt to her a little, suddenly aware of her left breast about to pop out of hiding. Although, who could have seen it? His eyes were on the chocolate-poster on the door, his mind, already in the UC Sunnydale Stevenson Hall corridor.
‘I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is killer.’
‘And good morning to you too, honey.’
He picked up his jacket and looked in his denim backpack. ‘Did I have a lighter?’
Buffy didn’t want him to go.
‘On the floor, by the bedside table. You had a cigarette after…’ she reminded.
It was stupid and immature and needy and weak chick-like, but she wanted him to stay a little. And chat. Or just cuddle.
‘So, I’ll… see you when I see you,’ he informed, closing his bag after dropping the lighter in it, and heading for the door, without so much as a look in her direction.
It was always the same. You wake up and your boyfriend’s gone. You give them your intimacy, your body, your… yourself, actually, and you wake up to an empty bed. And he’s either crawling in the street becoming a soulless evil bastard, or getting you coffee and staying a soulless evil manipulative student jerk, or being drugged by the Initiative and on the verge of becoming a possible soulless evil wreck. So what do you do? You end up in bed with the king of soulless fiends, a guy that you hardly know, but that you know too well, that you have no feelings or respect for, that has been but an insignificant, insipid – but annoying – detail in your life and that you can feel yourself, against all logic and reason and even, fate, falling for. But this time she wasn’t gonna get hurt.
‘God! You disgust me!’ she started, just as he touched the doorknob. He stopped in his tracks, thinking of a comeback, obviously vexed. Touché.
‘Really?’ he replied, finally finding his comeback. He turned round to watch her as he delivered it. ‘Funny, I don’t recall you saying that last night.’
‘Well maybe you should improve your telepathic skills cause I sure as hell thought it. Right at the crucial moment when I… failed to climax.’
He stared at her, dumbstruck. ‘Well I… You… It was… Takes one to know one!’ he snapped, giving up. She’d hit too hard, she realised it. ‘What am I still doing here?’ he grumbled, turning round.
As he got closer and closer to the door, she stored up memories of him to last her all day. Thinking about him would appease her like it had done so often lately. She would do it many times today. She felt his power grip her whole as he gripped the doorknob. And right then, she forgot the lust, she forgot the love, she forgot the longing for a chat and cuddle, and all she did feel was disgust. And not just at him. She wasn’t gonna get hurt. Not today, not by him.
‘Yeah, that’s right, you take off! I’m not gonna get hurt by you!’ she shouted as he slammed the door behind him. ‘You hear me? I’m not gonna get hurt by you, Jonathan!’
She had a heavy sigh, hugged the quilt tight, and stared at the ceiling. How had she fallen that low?
<center> __________________________________________________ </center>
This story takes place within the universe of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is not my intellectual property but Joss Whedon’s, in the middle of, as you might have figured, season 4, on or about February 14th. You may also recognise a couple of lines off the Beatles. Also, there are some brand names for the sake of realism, advertising unintentional.
<center> __________________________________________________ </center>
It had all started with a rather unusual Valentine’s day solicitation.
‘Your what?’
‘I mean, I know you guys are busy but I just need to take this girl away. Valentine’s day weekend. It would mean so much to me! Please?’
They looked up at him, stopped chewing to be able to hear him clearly, all four of them slightly baffled by the request. His presence meant a short break from their studying lunch on the college lawn, from the headache of this algebra problem they’d been working on. It went as follows:
“The end of the world occurs when an evil big bad has enough power and megalomania to kick the Slayer’s ass. Such a big bad is on the loose. Among the people that could have a shot at stopping it, 1 is convalescing, 1 is its dead creator, and 1 is having lunch wondering how to stop it. Assuming that 1 Slayer, 1 zeppo, 1 ex-demon, 2 trainee witches, 1 unemployed Watcher and 1 non-functional vampire combine efforts to find and destroy a big bad which is 1/3 human, 1/3 robot and 1/3 demon, in total how many billions of years will it take to reconstruct the world after Adam’s ended it?”
And there he was, completely oblivious of the situation, interrupting one of the most important Scooby debriefs of the year to demand a personal favour. Plus, he was kind of in their sun.
‘In the light of this development, allow me to insist,’ Xander asked, sitting up, his back against a tree. ‘Your what?’
‘My goldfish. Only for a few days. All you have to do is feed it. I’ll provide the feed. It’s just, it’ll die if no-one feeds it for three days. You know me, there isn’t a whole lot of friends I can ask. And there isn’t a whole lot of girls I’ve had the chance to spend Valentine’s day with before,’ he pleaded.
‘All right, Jonathan! Whatever!’ Buffy replied impatiently. ‘If it means so much to you, bring it over to our dorm tonight, I’ll look after it. Now would you please shoo?’
He looked at her suspiciously.
‘Actually, I will look after your goldfish, Jonathan,’ specified Willow.
‘That way it will, you know, survive.’ Buffy gave her a dirty look. ‘You have a history…’ the red-haired justified.
‘Least I didn’t boil my egg…’ she mumbled.
‘As I was saying, I’ll look after your fish, Jonathan. We’re going out later tonight but if you drop by around 7, I’ll be there,’ Willow offered.
‘Thank you so much!’ their old classmate exulted. ‘See you tonight!’ he added, rushing off.
‘Well. Some boyfriends take their Valentines away on a sex weekend,’ remarked Anya. ‘Pass the fish,’ she concluded, gesturing at the tuna sandwiches.
<center>* * * *</center>
‘And you’re positive it’s going to work?’
‘Is my nickname “Success Steve”?’ Jonathan looked at him blankly. ‘Yeah! Yeah, it is! That’s because my plans always succeed. Oh, and my name’s Stephen.’ He kneeled by his bed and reached under it. He dragged out a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates, lifted it with difficulty, placed it onto a frayed pall spread over the floor and opened it. He put down a glass mixing bowl next to it and poured in the whole of a mineral water bottle. ‘Hand me the book.’
‘The…?’
‘The book! The book! The Why Men Love Evil Bitch Monsters of Death book!’
The young man obeyed, and Steve turned to the preface. ‘This book, my friend, is the answer to all your problems.’ He read, ‘“When I embarked on my journey toward a better me, I discovered that my failed marriage, my bankruptcy, my substance abuse and my terminal illness could all be fixed. All I had to do was to learn how to have faith in myself. And in the almighty power of Sorcerer G’daar.” See? Easy. Now, pass me the myrrh.’ While Steve crumbled the resin onto the chocolates and water, Jonathan followed his instructions to turn to the Personal Growth Spells section of the book and to lay it on the pall by the chocolate-box, for his accomplice to incant.
“‘A token of love
Wilfully receive
A consummate glove
The fool to deceive
The drought of your heart be flooded
With a live flame aplenty
Your arteries hot-blooded
Your soul never empty
Forget the ever--’”
‘Um… I’m not sure about this,’ interrupted Jonathan.
‘Oh for God’s…!’ yelled his comrade. ‘Did no-one ever tell you you don’t cut off the enchanter? Do you know how dangerous it is to stop a spell halfway through?’ he went on.
‘Wh—What’s gonna happen?’ Jonathan asked, panicking.
‘Nothing. This one’s a multisession spell. Still! Don’t do that again. What’s up?’
‘I’m not sure about this whole…’
‘Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet! You don’t want Buffy Summers to be in love with you anymore?’
‘No! No, I do! Madly, the terms of our agreement specified madly!’
‘Fine, madly in love. What’s the problem then?
‘I’m not sure chocolates is the right… vector. See, they’ve had candy issues before. I think they’ll be wary of eatables.’
Steve looked around the room.
‘Not a problem.’ He went over to the windowsill and grabbed a bouquet of flowers which was lying there, still wrapped. He ripped out the card attached that said “Happy Birthday Mom” and drew a big heart on the wrapping with a red marker pen. ‘Flowers it is.’ He closed the box of chocolates, placed the flowers over the lid and proceeded to crumble some myrrh onto them. ‘The chocolates will make it look the part. Where was I? Oh yeah.
“Forget the everlasting quest
For true love
For by this spell you’re blessed
With fake love
All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need”
It’s done. Now, for the main attraction. Bring her over.’
Jonathan fumbled into his backpack. ‘It’s not gonna hurt her, is it?’
‘Totally harmless. To non-humans, anyway,’ the spell-caster chuckled.
The bell-tower gunman produced a knotted see-through plastic bag containing a couple of inches of water and a goldfish. He opened the bag and poured its content into the mixing bowl, watching fascinated as the pet circled shimmering eights through the liquid.
‘What next?’
‘Next I get changed. I got a game to win,’ Steve announced, opening a wardrobe full of tuxedos. ‘You do as planned and let nature take its course.’
<center>* * * *</center>
Buffy shoved a stake into her purse, took out the mini perfume-dispenser and went to the convenience sink by the door. She poured out the perfume and flushed it out, running the tap.
‘What’s that? Matchabelli?’ asked Willow, sitting on her bed, her back to her, putting on her Converse All Stars. ‘That’s kind of going out-y. Not sure tonight qualifies, but I wouldn’t mind borrowing some if that’s ok -- No! Don’t pour it down the sink!’ she pouted, turning round and seeing her room-mate.
‘Oops,’ commented Buffy, looking at the empty container. ‘I never liked it.’
‘Gift from Angel, huh?’
‘It’s old, like, other century old. Then I realised it’s Harmony’s favourite. Smelled it on her last time we fought. So it’s going down the sewers where it belongs. Besides…’ she grabbed a little plastic bottle on the shelf by the mirrored cabinet, ‘… it’s a waste of a perfectly good weapon.’ She poured the clear contents into the perfume dispenser. ‘Here you go,’ she presented proudly. ‘Eau de Holy.’
‘Handy!’ approved Willow. ‘Think the burn-pain will stay on their minds?’
Buffy grabbed her own pair of trainers and sighed. ‘Remind me why we’re going to this thing.’
‘Because Giles reads the paper.’
‘Yeah. He couldn’t watch TV like everybody else! He had to read the Sunnydale Gazette and find out about the only ever Snooker Tournament ever to take place on the New Continent!’
‘That’s right. And I gave this a great deal of thought, Buffy, and I don’t believe in that event-is-a-cover-up-for-some-demonic-activity-orchestrated-by-a-secret-British-circle theory.’
‘You don’t?’
‘Nope. I think Giles just likes snooker. It’s a great big extreme excuse for us all to have to be there tonight,’ she explained with a wink.
Buffy’s eyes widened. ‘That makes perfect sense, Will!’ she smiled, tying her laces. ‘It’s a much more likely explanation than his ridiculous story of the tournament being put on by SMOOCH, the Society for the Maintaining and Occasioning of On-going Chaos and Hell, set up in 1988 by Ethan Rayne.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Willow agreed, starting to head for the gym.
Their door opened before they touched it and Jonathan stepped in, holding a glass bowl with a bright orange, silky finned fish in it and, more importantly, water.
‘You said I could drop her off.’
‘Yeah. Right,’ said Willow, looking down at the bowl he’d just thrust into her arms.
‘Thank you so much for doing this! She won’t be any trouble. All you have to do is give her a pinch of these desiccated worms…’ he instructed, holding the sachet right in front of Willow’s slightly revolted face, ‘… twice a day, preferably at breakfast and supper and --’
‘Is it safe to feed after midnight?’ mocked Buffy, retreating to sit on her bed until the intruder ceased to delay them.
‘Yeah, after midnight’s fine, long as you put a light on for her and she’s still awake -- oh, you mean Gremlins.’ Buffy rolled her eyes. ‘And… Could you also water her a coupla times a day?’
‘Water…? She’s a fish!’ blurted Willow.
‘She’s a she?’ added Buffy.
‘Yeah. Queen Amidala. But you can call her Padmé.’ Both girls looked unconvinced. ‘And I water her to simulate rain so she thinks she’s in her natural habitat. It just makes her that little bit more cheerful.’
‘Yeah, it’s all right, Jonathan,’ reassured Willow. ‘Don’t worry, she will be fine.’
‘Thanks, Willow!’ he exclaimed, forcing the feed sachet into her hand. ‘I won’t forget your kindness!’ he carried on, going to Buffy and shaking her hand vigorously in the excitement of his gratefulness. ‘I’ll be back on Sunday,’ he said as a goodbye.
‘What’s with all the handshaking?’ remarked Buffy when he was gone.
‘He’s happy someone’s doing him a favour. It’s sweet.’ Willow put down the fish bowl on her bedside-table.
‘Sweet? I-have-no-friends-so-I-hassle-Buffy sweet?’
‘Come on. I’ll deal with… Padmé. We’re gonna be late,’ she hurried her best friend on, closing the door behind them.
<center>* * * *</center>
‘What just happened?’ asked Xander, looking at the popcorn lying all around him on the floor after he had spilled his carton, startled by the cheers of a hysterical crowd.
‘The US player just made it very hard for the UK player to get back the advantage. And you spilt a third of your… supporter sustenance. Here, have a chocolate instead,’ offered Giles.
‘Chocolates? You have another candy supplier now?’
‘Those were on his doormat, in a huge heart-shaped box,’ explained Anya. ‘We grabbed a few on the way out. He’ll still give you money in exchange for pyramid bars, don’t worry.’
‘A heart-shaped box, huh?’ teased Willow.
‘Not a pyramid scam, An.’
‘Y—yes, heart-shaped. Please focus on the game. We must be ready to intervene should we lose the cup.’
‘Who could that be from?’ insisted Willow. ‘A big heart-shaped box of chocolates… Was there a card?’ she asked Anya.
The ex-vengeance-demon shook her head. ‘But the flowers had a cute little hand-drawn drawing on the wrapping.’
‘The flowers! Giles! Don’t you wanna know?’
‘Willow, I cannot emphasise enough the primordial importance of this snooker game. If we lose that cup,’ he pointed at a distant object across the table, ‘to the English team, it’s the whole of the Erosphere equilibrium which could be disrupted and that would lead to formidable -- Ooh!’ he interjected, slamming his fist in the air at the closeness of the miss, ‘… endangerment.’ Willow sheepishly gazed at the snooker table and rested her chin in her hand. ‘Besides, my heart is taken,’ the Watcher mumbled, his eyes glued to the snooker balls.
‘What?’ Willow cried out. ‘Did anybody else hear that? Buffy?’ she asked her neighbour who looked just as transfixed in the game.
Anya spit out the straw she had been drinking soda out of, to choke. ‘He said his heart… His heart…!’ she gasped in between coughs.
‘I know!’ agreed Willow. ‘Who by, Giles? You have to tell us! Is it Olivia? Is she moving in? I know I shouldn’t be nosy and you have a love-life and that is no concern of ours and you’re a grown up and you’re entitled to your privacy. But who is she? Who is she? Who is she?’
Giles couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘She’s… That beautiful, marvellous gem there,’ he pointed at a butch looking, shell-suit wearing, skinhead woman sitting next to the Russian referee.
Xander’s mouth opened wide, revealing a half-chewed chocolate. ‘That’s the lady who sold us the tickets. That’s the lady who sold us the tickets, yet Giles is definitely eyeing her. Giles, are you all right? Have you been feeling lonely lately, buddy?’
‘Buffy. Buffy!’ shouted Willow, pulling her friend’s arm to shake her out of her torpor. ‘Buffy, Giles has a shell-suit skinhead lady-friend,’ she informed gravely.
‘Hey? What?’ the Slayer babbled, emerging. ‘A lady… He’s been watching the game! We should all be watching the game! He said we must watch the game because if the British guys win the cup I’ll have to slay every last one of them to get it back! So I was watching the game! Because Giles said! Because of the Erosfear! Why did Jonathan not come to the game with us? He just… took off. He knew we were going out and he didn’t even ask if he could join! And he’s gone for the whole weekend and he’s not even gonna phone! He’s having the time of his life with his… slut and he doesn’t care if I get injured getting the plunger back from the English scum!’
Willow just blinked repeatedly. She turned to Xander. ‘Jonathan?’ she whispered.
‘The plunger?’ he retorted.
‘English scum?’ Anya muttered, peering worriedly at Giles.
‘The cup is actually a sorcerer’s plunger which, when used in conjunction with the right spell, can suck up chaos from the sacred hole of Cirencester – in the Cotswolds –’ explained the Watcher. ‘It is imperative that we keep it from falling into the hands of SMOOCH. They’re fanatics who will stop at nothing to dishevel the Erosphere and as a result, open up a netherworld vortex which would -- She looked at me! She just looked at me! And she smiled! Xander, did you see her smile too?’
‘There’s something seriously wrong here,’ remarked Willow.
‘I know!’ Xander concurred. ‘Giles just trusted me to confirm something!’
‘And it is with immense pride that I am honoured to hand over the ancestral Plunger-Cup to our cross-Atlantic cousins, the English team!’ announced a loudspeaker.
‘No!’ cried Giles. ‘Buffy! You must get it back! Go!’
Buffy sprang from her seat and started running down the stands to get to the podium. She stopped halfway down and turned round to face Willow. ‘He said: “I won’t forget your kindness.”. What do you suppose that means? Do you think he meant that kindness is a quality that he looks for in a woman and that he will remember me for having that quality? And that he will think about me, possibly ask me out, to enjoy my kindness? What do you think, Will?’
‘Buffy! The plunger!’ cried Willow.
The Slayer turned round to resume her chase. She halted and looked around. The cup, along with the whole of the English team, had vanished into thin air.
<center>* * * *</center>
‘And this is him at the Sunnydale Wildlife Center, with a walrus. Isn’t he hot?’
Willow swallowed her coffee and squinted at the photo shoved under her nose across the cafeteria table.
‘Yes. Yes, that’s a very hot… walrus. Listen, Buffy…’
‘Oh, you’re always such a joker, Will!’ Buffy laughed wholeheartedly. ‘Hot walrus! So funny! Oh, I am in the best mood today. Jonathan stayed the night.’ She slid the picture back to the side of her waffle plate and observed it intensely. ‘He is so sexy…’ she sighed dreamily.
‘Right! Yeah, sexy. That’s the word. Jonathan’s sexy. He’s… too sexy for his Dammit-Jim-I’m-a-doctor-not-a-superstar shirt. Buffy! Stay with me, girl!’ she urged, snapping her fingers at her face.
‘And last night,’ Buffy recounted excitedly, ‘we thought we’d try a little role-playing, and he’s got this Yoda outfit, and apparently I look awesome with my hair in buns over my ears, and I never thought I’d say this but…’
‘And I never thought I’d hear this!’ Willow cried, putting her hands over her ears.
‘… nothing comes close to a night of long-eared, pea-green, hot alien sex!’ She had a swig of coffee. ‘How was your night? Sorry I do-not-disturbed. You can have the room to yourself next weekend, how’s that? Jonathan’s booked a hotel right on the beach. He is so romantic!’
‘My night was fascinating, thanks for asking. I was up till the early hours, doing research on G’daar’s Plunger – that’s its official name – and reassuring Xander that no, he won’t be the last survivor of the Erosphere catastrophe and die of sexual frustration, while listening to Giles practicing his Let-Me-Be-Your-Cup-Of-Tea serenade. Buffy! Please! I need you! I need you whole!’ she begged.
‘Absolutely! Willow!’ she held her distressed friend’s hand. ‘You know you can count on me! Anytime! I’m the Slayer. But above all, I’m your best friend! You know that, right?’
Willow sighed.
‘The Volumes say that for the Plunger to lose its power, G’daar must be killed. The only way to kill him is to strangle him with this…’ she searched her pocket and produced a thin but long piece of shiny string, ‘… Cupid’s Bow-String, which I shoplifted from the magic shop because the owner wouldn’t sell it to me. The only person strong enough to strangle a great big mountain like G’daar is the Slayer, Buff. Now, I’ve located the sorcerer. He lives in a cave, in the North Woods, which is protected by a magic magnetic shield. But the full moon interferes with that shield, it powers it down. Tomorrow night’s the last full moon night. That’s your only break, Buffy. For a month. SMOOCH will have sucked up chaos in a month’s time. It’s gotta be tomorrow.’
‘I see,’ Buffy acquiesced pensively. ‘Ooh, shoot! No can do! Jonathan’s taking me to see Weezer!’
Willow’s face dropped. ‘Buffy. This has got to stop! It’s been a week! You’re in love with a guy you have no feelings for! It’s Jonathan, Buffy! Can’t you see? Can’t you see this isn’t real?’
Buffy’s eyes darkened. ‘Not real? Oh, of course,’ she snapped, smirking with anger, ‘I get it. Buffy finally finds the perfect, uncomplicated love, with a normal, easy-going boyfriend, who loves her, so of course, that can’t be real! The Slayer’s not allowed to be happy! She has to torture herself day and night, trying to ignore that knot in her stomach because the guy she loves can’t ever live happily by her side! She has to resign herself that that wasn’t meant to be because he’s a vampire or a demon-hunting soldier or a… vampire! She has to go to sleep alone forever because she’s into dangerous guys, guys that hurt her! Well, not this time, Will. He’s good to me. And he loves me, and I love him, and it’s easy! It’s fun, and normal, and I can introduce him to my Mom without fear of him eating her. And it is real! And… you’re jealous!’ she concluded.
‘Jealous?’ marvelled the red-haired.
‘Yes! You’re jealous because I have a normal boyfriend and you don’t! You wish you had this, it’s killing you! You had to put up with being Mrs Big Bad Wolf! And that didn’t work out! Because the fangs got in the way, they always do! And now, you’ve got those eyes, you think I can’t see your eyes, Will? Those sparkly Willow’s-in-love eyes. But I never see no boys around you! Is it the old Xander infatuation again? Have you got yourself the comfy complicated, unconventional, impossible love-story again?’
Willow’s eyes started filling up uncontrollably. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want Buffy to cause her to cry. She didn’t want the truth to hurt so bad. She stood up and looked at Buffy’s plate, to avoid eye-contact.
‘No love-story of mine will ever be worth hurting my friend!’ she accused. She rushed out of the cafeteria.
‘Go say that to Cordelia,’ Buffy mumbled to herself.
<center>* * * *</center>
She hugged the quilt tighter, not finding solace in a fabric embrace. She wanted a flesh one. There was the gig tonight anyway so she would at least see him then, if not before. But it was the fact that he wouldn’t stay for a cuddle! That really did bug her. He’d come, he’d… come, and he’d gone. But she would be with him tonight. She had all day to rejoice in that prospect. She would think about him and feel her heart beat today. Good agenda.
There was a knock on the door and Buffy sank under the quilt, making sure nothing was sticking out.
Willow’s head appeared. ‘Are you decent?’
‘Kinda…’
The door burst open and Willow stepped in. She waited. Then a blanket-covered individual irrupted, shoved in from the hall. Xander followed in. The blanket dropped, revealing a bleached-haired, leather trench-coated vampire.
‘What’s he doing here?’ threatened Buffy, clenching the quilt tight with both hands.
‘Hey! That how you greet your guests? Not quite the home-cooked breakfast I was promised.’
‘Afterwards,’ retorted Xander. ‘And we said cafeteria-cooked.’
The vampire shrugged. He sat down on Willow’s bed, facing Buffy. ‘You naked under there, Slayer?’ he sneered. ‘I haven’t paid yet,’ he said to Xander. ‘Is it by the hour?’
Willow took a perfume dispenser out of her knitted purse and pointed it at him. ‘I haven’t got time for pleasantries, Spike. It’ll burn, it won’t kill you. No guilt. Talk!’
‘Ok! Ok! Easy, yodelling cowgirl!’ He took a deep, unrequired breath and looked at Buffy. ‘First off, I wish to make it clear that I’ve only agreed to this because seeing you with that bloody subhuman is even more pathetic than seeing you… Than seeing you. Marginally.’ Xander cleared his throat. ‘That, and twat-features is paying me a substantial wodge of dosh.’
‘What is this, you can’t bite so you found a replacement torture? Chit-chatting your victims to death?’
‘Don’t you start whingeing! All right, I’m gonna say it straight. You can’t go on seeing that bloke.’
‘Why?’ she challenged. ‘And why am I even asking him why?’ she added to Willow.
‘Because,’ Spike replied, slowly so it would sink in, ‘only a few weeks ago, you promised yourself to me. We got engaged, we did. I proposed and you said yes.’
Buffy shook her head in aberration. ‘Huh! Don’t make me puke! That was a spell, Spike! You have no place telling me who I can and cannot see! I never promised you anything! I’m free as a bird! It was a spell! It wasn’t real!’
For sole reply, Spike raised his eyebrows. Buffy brought her hands to her mouth in shock, getting his point.
Spike stood up and walked to the bedside-table. ‘Nice fish you’ve got.’
‘It’s Jonathan’s!’ blurted Buffy. ‘Says she’s happier here and we should keep her.’
‘Yeah. Got a really lovely gold tinge. And water philtre.’
‘That’s a basic glass bowl, there’s no water-filter!’ scoffed Xander.
‘P.H. philtre. As in love potion.’
‘How would you know that? You’re so full of it, Spike,’ taunted Buffy.
‘Not holy but I can smell it’s been messed with. It’s had some sort of religious something done to it. I’m only guessing it’s a love-spell, my sense of smell isn’t actually that accurate. But you don’t have to be Einstein… Seeing the state of that one,’ he nodded towards Buffy.
‘He can go, now, right?’ the Slayer asked her two comrades, unable to throw him out herself from under the quilt. ‘Mission accomplished. Made me feel like a fool, I made his day, he can go spend his hard-earned cash on booze, right? I can’t believe you hired Spike to pull an intervention on me!’ she reproached.
‘You wouldn’t hear it from your best friend…’ justified Xander.
‘So I thought you might hear it from your best foe…’ Willow apologised.
‘Actually my job isn’t quite finished yet,’ corrected Spike. He picked up the bowl, went to the sink and poured the water out. Willow rushed to him.
‘No! Padmé! Quick! Fill the bowl with fresh water!’
Spike picked up the fish by the tail and held it high, watching it wiggle. ‘Bye bye, little creature.’
‘Spike!’ Willow cried, running the tap to fill the bowl. ‘Put her in here! Hurry!’
The vampire-with-a-chip shook his head. ‘It’s too late. She was in the magic water for too long, she’s imbued with it. No other way.’
‘No! Spike! Come on!’ implored Willow, jumping and reaching at the fish. ‘It’s not fair! She didn’t do anything wrong! Vampires are always killing my fish!’ she lamented. Buffy and Xander watched sadly as the little animal choked on air. ‘You’re cruel, Spike!’
‘Why, thank you. But flattery isn’t gonna make me stop. There,’ he concluded, the fish motionless in his hand. ‘Done. Now I can go. Humans and their bloody pets! Sometimes,’ he lectured on his way out, ‘things die.’
<center>* * * *</center>
‘You’re sure they don’t remember?’
‘Buffy Summers killed Sorcerer G’daar last night,’ reminded Steve. ‘With him went all of the Plunger’s powers. And everyone’s memories of it. Yours will fade too, Jonathan. You’ll have no recollection of ever being intimate with that girl.’
Jonathan sighed and had a disappointed pout. He scanned all the youngsters sitting in circle next to him, waiting for Dr Krane, their group-therapist, to show up. Not getting any responses to his polite smiles from his co-patients, he returned to Steve on his right. ‘Whatcha readin’?’
‘Nothing much. Kind of an essay. It’s called: “Doing your own augmentation spell.”
I want to say that I love your Buffy in this fic! Instead of taking the crap of guys who walk on her, she stands strong and becomes a girl we can all stand beside and salute to! 