If Spike somehow managed to trick fate and end up in Heaven, he thought it might bear a lot of resemblance to Wednesdays.

True to her promise, Buffy had started blocking out that afternoon each week for sparring sessions. Their first night had been awkward at first, neither really knowing the other’s limits or the remaining effects of the chip. However, when Spike’s first landed punch only produced the barest of shocks, the two had grinned like small children and really cut loose.

Giles had stood in the corner, coaching his slayer from the sidelines and wincing when a new piece of furniture fell under their half-playful, half-serious battle. Twenty minutes into the fight, he had been interested. One hour – impressed. By the two hour mark, he had taken a seat at the desk in the corner and was rapidly taking notes, an act punctuated by awed head shaking and glasses polishing.

Though the two were pulling their punches, the fighting was ferocious. Even before his unexpected change of heart after coming to Sunnydale, Spike had never felt more alive than when he was fighting for his life against a worthy foe, especially a slayer. As for Buffy, the vampire could sense her excitement and loved the glint of wild excitement he could see in her eyes. It was the strongest spark of life he had seen in her since her resurrection. He vowed to do whatever it took to get that gleam back more often.

In the end, three hours into the “fight,” two chairs, a bench, the pommel horse, and the punching bag had valiantly given their lives. Buffy and Spike had collapsed on the floor, both panting even though one only did it because his body remembered needing to after such exertion, neither able to claim victory. The crippled chip had seemed to register that Spike had never really intended to hurt the slayer, so he was left with only the most minor of headaches from the device’s attempts to shock him. After living through the chip’s full range of punishments, the pain was negligible.

Giles had stood on shaky legs and asked softly, “Was that how you fought… before?”

Slayer and vampire had traded looks and grinned. “Not exactly,” Buffy had said at length.

“How so?” asked her watcher.

“Well, we weren’t really trying to kill each other this time,” she started.

“And the slayer has kindly taken to layin’ off my nose,” added Spike with a lopsided grin.

“And Spike used to prefer weapons,” she added slyly.

He laughed. “Still do!”

Her girlish laughter had joined his own chuckles while Giles had watched with a kind of horrified fascination. It occurred to Spike that the watcher must have not seen Buffy fight in many of her more impressive battles. Oh, he had joined her for a few patrols, maybe even helped her slay a fledgling or two, but the big fights? The ones that were all about sweat and blood, life and death? Giles had little experience with them, much less under circumstances that would allow him to take notes. It must have been a rude awakening for the watcher. After that first evening, he had been even more adamant about continuing their Wednesday “lessons.”

The next week, Giles cleared the floor, stacking any equipment that could be moved against the wall before they ever arrived. He wrote pages of observations and the property damage was kept to a minimum. The week after, he started offering Spike advice during the fight, which was so unexpected that the vampire dropped his guard to gawk at the watcher, which earned him a foot in the gut for his troubles.

They sparred, and they snarked, and Spike could see a little more life in Buffy’s eyes each time.

This time was different though. This evening, Buffy and Spike had decided to dip into the weapon’s chest. He had thought about his decision all week, and decided to go with a staff. Oh, he could use a cutting instrument just as well, but staffs were discreetly nasty: a double ended club he could use in any variety of ways.

Buffy would not tell him what her choice was going to be, and so it had become a game. His guess was a sword: short, straight, and European. His slayer liked the classics, and he guessed that they both picked their best weapon the night they lost their memories, subconsciously working with their own strengths. She had spent the week discreetly needling him about his own choice, but he was willing to play her game and had not caved. Hopefully he had managed to convince Meret to keep his secret as well.

As usual, Spike headed out for Magic Box’s basement well before sunset. Meret was spending the evening with Dawn, the most untraditional and unobtrusive babysitter the teenager had ever had. From the “sound” of it, the girl was feeding the little coatl something spicy at the moment. He wondered if Tara could hear Meret all the way in Westbury. The witches had checked in when they landed, but Spike had been out when the call had come. Not that she would have been awake enough to answer his questions anyway.

Taking the safe route for once, the vampire wound his way into the shop’s basement from the sewers, leaving the sun to the humans. He climbed the stairs to find Anya counting the money from the register. “How’s the dosh?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Anya, missing the sarcasm in his voice, answered brightly, “Fine, thank you! Anything new to add to the inventory?”

Spike responded by tossing a Crown Royal bag full of fossils onto the counter. The tiny stones were shaped like perfect stars with tiny holes in the center of each. They had once been part of flower-like sea creatures, long dead. Spike had been lucky; the age of rocks that held this type of fossil were rare in southern California. One of the local witches fancied a new set of runes that was more attuned to the earth magic she practiced, and Anya had sold her in the idea. It had taken the vampire a while to collect the tiny fossils, but he was developing an eye for them now, and they were easy enough to find now that he knew where to look.

Anya spilled the dime-sized fossils out onto the counter and inspected them. “For Mrs. Flannery?” At Spike’s assenting shrug, she continued, “You got twenty-four matching ones like she asked?”

“More like thirty, in case she doesn’t like some of ‘em. And there’s lots more where these came from in case she starts a fad,” replied the vampire.

“We wouldn’t want to flood the market, but a couple in the inventory wouldn’t hurt anyone. Besides, this is the kind of touristy stuff that the teenagers have been stringing on hemp necklaces lately. If you could bring me,” she tapped her counter with one of the fossils in thought, “maybe fifty more for now, that ought to be adequate.”

“I’ll get ‘em for you. Anything else you’re runnin’ low on?”

“Hmm. Pyrite, desert roses, quartz, you know, the usual. When are you planning on doing another mineral run?”

“After this snafu over at the mansion gets cleared up.”

“Speaking of which,” Giles appeared from the back practice room, “I would be interested in hearing your take on things before Buffy arrives.”

Spike winced. He really didn’t want to discuss the jar and the skeleton in the old mansion. “Not much to report other than what the slayer already told you.”

“Yes, but you can sense things she can’t. It would help with the retrieval tonight if you would care to enlighten me.” Giles’ patience with the vampire had expanded greatly in recent weeks, perhaps helped along by his tentative connection with Meret.

The vampire scowled, but was smart enough to admit defeat. “It’s like this, Rupes, there’s enough bad vibes from the darkness glamour, the remnants of Acathla, the shielding over the room, and the general hatred I have for that place that I shouldn’t’ve been able to tease out anything from the mess. But you know what? That jar stuck out like a Vegas stripper in a nun convention. I don’t know what it is, you know it doesn’t work like that, but it’s bad. If I had my way, we’d wall that room off and forget it ever existed.”

“You know we can’t do that, Spike. What if someone or something else happened upon it, especially if it is as powerful as you say? What then?”

Morality lessons. God, how he hated those. The vampire’s shoulders slumped. “I know,” he said in resignation.

“Well, if the artifact is as powerful as you say, I’ll bring my Tiran gauntlet and holding chest.” Tiran devices were like the HAZMAT suits of the magical world. Spike was at least relieved that the watcher was taking his warning seriously.

Anya, who had been listening to the proceedings with interest, piped up. “So, this powerful jar you’re going to get tonight…?”

“Yes, Anya?” Giles prompted.

“Are we going to be selling it, and if so, should it have a no return policy?”

The vampire and watcher looked at each other for a long beat. When their response came, it was loud and synchronized.

“No!”

*****

Buffy waltzed into the Magic Box at dusk with a smile on her face and a lilt to her step. Spike was in the book loft, lounging behind a stack of boxes where Anya would not see him and try to put him to work dusting or some other such thing. The slayer’s entrance drew his attention instantly, and he watched her from his vantage. “Hey Giles!” she called. “Those papers from the Council totally worked! I’m all with the enrollment again.” She dropped a stuffed satchel onto the research table and flopped into one of the seats.

The watcher smiled widely in return and walked around the counter. “Congratulations, Buffy! I take it they accepted the story about your coma?”

“Oh yeah, because hey, look at my not deadness. And you were right, part time seemed like the best plan. School seems much more manageable in small doses anyway. I’m only signed up for two classes, but I can always up the number next year.” Her expression made that suggestion sound doubtful, but she did seem a little more excited about school than Spike could ever remember.

“So you decided which classes to take?” queried the watcher.

“Oh yeah,” she patted the bag on the table. “One English and one anthro. You’re so on tutoring duty if they turn out to be hard since Willow’s off in England.”

The watcher agreed wholeheartedly, veritably glowing with paternal pride. He had fought hard to convince Buffy to go back to school in the spring, and his joy in her decision was almost palpable in the room. To himself, Spike could also admit a small amount of pride, because it was the money he had given her that had freed the slayer up enough to even consider reentering the university.

With a sudden change in demeanor, Buffy turned around and looked right at Spike where he was sitting above her. “You coming down so we can fight or not? I’ve got my guess about what weapon you’re going to use right here.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and held it up.

Spike leaned over the bar and looked down at the slayer and the watcher. “Since you asked so nicely. And yeah, I already told Rupes here my guess.”

“Must you two always drag me into your immature games?” Giles complained somewhat peevishly when Buffy dutifully gave her piece of paper to the watcher.

“Killjoy,” mumbled Buffy. “I’m going to go change into my sweats. See you in five,” she called up to the vampire. And with that she was gone from his sight.

Spike climbed down the ladder and sat in the chair the slayer had just vacated. The watcher simply gave a long-suffering sigh and wandered back over to the counter. When he was sure Giles wasn’t looking, the vampire slid the textbooks far enough out of the slayer’s bag to read their titles. When he saw what classes the slayer would be taking, his mouth couldn’t help but drop open. British Poetry: 1780-1910 rested on the bottom of the stack, followed by Mesoamerican Mythology. The image on the cover of the second textbook included a stone carving of a plumed serpent, a coatl.

Spike had long ago stopped believing in coincidence, and the books were just too weird not to mean something. How much had Meret let slip in the last few weeks? How much had he?

The vampire was still pondering the slayer’s choice in classes when the call came from the training room. “C’mon Spike. I wanna hit something!”

That’s my girl.

He was up like a shot.



A/N In League With Serpents just picked up two awards at the FFAs. (Squee!) I don't know who nominated me, so if you're reading this, thank you so much!