A/N: Susan Rodriguez is a character from The Dresden Files. This isn't meant to be a crossover of any kind, I'm just sort of borrowing her. (And, for Dresden fans, this is book Susan, not that horrible TV show Susan... blech.)

*****

Chapter 7: New Beginnings

Buffy popped her head in the open doorway. “Hey, you feeling better today?”

“Much. I’m up to watching the telly again,” Spike told her, but he picked up the remote and turned the TV off when she came in the room. “Dawson’s a soddin’ prat.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and came over to the bed. “Any pain?” she asked, inspecting his injuries.

“None,” he announced with pride. Then, his grin faded, and he added the caveat: “So long as I don’t move.”

“Right.” Buffy smirked. “You hungry?”

Spike looked like he wanted to say yes, but he resisted. He noticed she didn’t have a mug in her hands. “I don’t want to drain you, love.” Don’t want to get addicted, either. Slayer blood was an aphrodisiac as well as a healing power, and he’d been achingly aware of its effect for hours after she left him the first time. He’d barely pulled away in time then, and the more he drank, the harder it would be to stop. “If you go to the butcher’s, give him my name, you could – ”

“Actually, I brought, um, a snack.”

Willow, who’d been lurking in the doorway, stepped into the room. “Hi, Spike.”

“Oh, no.” Spike shook his head vigorously. “I’m not eating your friends.”

“It was her choice, Spike.”

“I’m not in enough trouble already, what with trying to kill them? In the very, very distant past, of course,” he added.

“It’s okay, Spike.” Willow shrugged. “You won’t hurt me, right?”

“Of course not, love.” He turned back to Buffy. “But I’m not doing it.” His eyes lit up. “Unless it’s Harris. Could I bite him? I can’t promise he’d live, but…”

“You are way too excited about that,” Buffy said, trying to hold back a smile. “I’m not letting you near Xander, for both your sakes.”

“Look, Spike,” said Willow, as she approached the bed. “I know you’ve tried to bite me in the past, in situations that were, you know, not all with the friendly, but Buffy trusts you now. And if she trusts you, then I do, too.”

Spike shot a sidelong glance at Buffy and nodded. “All right, then.”

“So, uh, how do we do this?” Willow asked, with a bit of nervousness.

“Just sit here, love.” Spike patted the edge of the bed next to him. He sat up straighter so it would be less of a full-contact sport than it had been with Buffy. “Tilt your head to the side, there. Now, I promise this won’t hurt. Close your eyes if you’re scared.” Willow closed her eyes, but then opened one so she could peek. She saw Spike morph into his game face and felt the prick of his teeth on her neck.

As Spike drank, Buffy asked, “You doing okay, Will?”

“It’s kinda tingly.”

Spike raised his head. “Buffy thinks it’s hot.”

“Spike!” Buffy was glad her best friend couldn’t see her face turn bright red.

Willow tried to laugh without moving her neck, as Spike went back to drinking. “I’m sorry, Spike,” she said. “It’s just, you’re not a girl, so… not really my type. Otherwise, I’m sure I’d be all lusty feelings.”

“Thanks, pet. All done now.” He gave her a reassuring look with his human face. “Go on, Buffy’ll get you a bandage.”

“Bathroom,” said Buffy, with a vague gesture over her shoulder, noting how much less he’d taken from Willow than from her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Willow nodded and left the room. Buffy paused, and her eyes locked on Spike’s. It struck her how far they’d come, that it wasn’t all that long ago she’d never have trusted Spike near her neck or any of her friends’. “Thank you,” she mouthed silently.

Spike cocked his head to one side, as if to say, “For what?”

Buffy placed a tender hand on his cheek. Spike’s fingers closed over her wrist and his lips curled into a half-smile. “Come on, love. Don’t go all soft on me,” he teased, gently removing her hand from his face.

She hesitated for a moment, and then smiled back at him. “You’re right. I could punch you, but you already look like shit… and then I’d just feel bad.”

Spike let out a short laugh, but before he could respond, Willow appeared again in the doorway, a Scooby-Doo band-aid now affixed to her neck.

“Hey, uh, I just fixed myself up,” she said.

Buffy gave her a guilty smile. “Sorry, Will. Guess I’m not a very good nursemaid.”

“You’re fine,” said Spike. “Regular Florence Nightingale. Just got too many patients, is all.”

“It’s okay,” Willow replied. “All taken care of. Spike’s a perfect gentleman. I might not even have a scar.”

“Well, get back here.” Spike had a wicked gleam in his eye. “It’s no fun if you don’t have a scar. How will everyone know you’re tough?”

Willow giggled. “Hey, Buffy, did you ask Spike about the thing?”

“What thing?” asked Spike.

Buffy looked down at the floor. “Uh, no, not yet.”

“What thing?” he repeated.

“We were wondering if maybe Drusilla was the one summoning the demons,” Willow said.

His face adopted an expression Buffy couldn’t quite read. “Doesn’t sound like…” He stopped. “Demons? Plural?”

“We think there’s a connection between the dragon and the demon you killed,” Buffy filled him in. “Both were summoned using talismans. Giles had a source, but he’s dead now, so I guess we’ll start working on the papers he left behind.”

“And you think it was Dru?”

“Hoped, really,” said Willow. “It’d make things nice and neat, you know. Solve two cases with one raiding party.”

Spike shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like her. That sort of thing’s not her style.”

“You guys have used demons before.” Buffy felt a little guilty including Spike in her assertion, but there was no sense pretending he hadn’t been there.

Spike made a face like he was sucking on his teeth. “Was different. Dru – she’d go in for mayhem, apocalypse-causing stuff, sure, just ’cause it’s fun. But targeting us, talismans, magic – ’s not how her mind works, you know? It’s all fairy wings and talkin’ stars with her.” He shook his head again, a faraway look in his eyes. “She wouldn’t plan something like this.” He thought for a moment then snorted. “The one with the plan was always –”

“Stop,” Buffy warned him. “That can only go one of two ways, and neither is of the good.”

“Sorry,” he replied, an exaggerated pout on his face. “I’ll behave.”

“I think he’s feeling better,” Willow teased.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be good as new in a day or so.”

“Good,” said Buffy. “Because Nurse Ratched has to go to work tomorrow.”

Willow grinned. “At least you’ll have a good story when they ask how your weekend was.”

“Yeah.” Buffy folded her arms across her chest. “Actually, I’m starting a new job. Temp agency is sending me someplace else.”

*****

“Welcome to the Sunnydale Press, Miss Summers.” Buffy’s new boss – whose name she’d already forgotten, Dave or Dan or something – extended his hand. Buffy smiled and shook it. “Let me show you around.”

Dave or Dan – or maybe it was Darryl? – left his office and headed through the bullpen where the various reporters were set up. Buffy hurried to follow him as he weaved a path through the desks, throwing out names that she’d also never remember. She waved haphazardly at those who bothered to look up.

Darryl or Dave led her to a back room full of boxes. “This is the archives, where we keep back issues of the paper,” he told her. “We’re in the process of making digital copies of everything. All of our recent issues are online, of course, but the older stuff needs to be catalogued. Your job will be to scan everything in these boxes here.” He gestured to a row along one wall, with boxes stacked on shelves about six feet high. “The scanner and the computer are in that corner there. I think everything’s pretty self-explanatory, but if you have any questions, you can ask Susan. She’s the first desk on the right outside.”

Buffy looked around the room and nodded. “Sounds good. Thanks, uh, Dave?”

“Tim.”

“Tim, right. Think I’m all set.” As soon as Tim left the room, Buffy cast a woeful glance at the stacks of boxes. This promised to be a dull job.

Before she even had a chance to get settled, another face popped in the door. “Hi, you the temp?”

“Yeah. I’m Buffy.”

“Susan Rodriguez, crime beat,” the woman replied. She was tall, brunette, probably thirty-ish, and dressed in a chic knee-length pencil skirt, a button-down blouse with enough buttons undone to make a guy look twice, and heels that were just an inch too high for office wear.

“Crime beat? They must keep you busy, with all the stuff that goes on in Sunnydale.”

Susan chuckled. “I ought to be an investigative reporter. Half my articles are on mysterious deaths and disappearances.”

“At least it keeps things interesting.”

“You have no idea.” Susan lowered her voice. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen, what’s really going on in Sunnydale.”

Buffy gave her a tentative half-smile. “Oh, I can imagine.”

“Hey, this job looks like it’ll get boring pretty fast. If you need a break, you come out here and I’ll tell you some stories. Crazy stuff.”

“Great.” When Susan left the room, Buffy muttered under her breath, “I got plenty of stories of my own, lady.”

*****

“You’re going to pay for that, right?”

Willow rolled her eyes before turning away from the shelves of magic herbs and looking at Anya. “Yes, I’m going to pay for it.”

“You’re not just ‘borrowing’ things, right? Because you ‘borrow’ them and then they never come back, or they come back damaged. Or they turn up as a troll.”

“That was one time. And it was your troll!”

“This is a place of business,” Anya went on, as if Willow hadn’t even spoken. “I can’t just let people use my merchandise willy-nilly.”

Willow tuned out the lecture, pursing her lips as she ran her fingers along the shelf. She stopped at the mandrake root and added some to her shopping basket. “I just think it’s callous to charge us for supplies when we’re doing spells to save people’s lives. Often, yours.”

“It’s a free market. I can charge what I want for whatever I want. Supply and demand. You need it, you’ll pay for it.”

Willow was about to respond when, mercifully, they were interrupted by Giles’ entrance. “Oh, thank Hecate,” she muttered. “Hi, Giles!”

“Willow, I’m glad you’re here,” he replied. “I’d like to speak with you.”

He started to escort Willow into the training room, but Anya’s blatant throat clearing made them pause. Anya stared pointedly at Willow, then at the shopping basket in her hand, and then back at Willow’s face.

“Oh, for God’s sake!” the witch said exasperatedly, marching over and dropping the basket of merchandise on the counter. “I’ll be back for that,” she muttered, as she followed Giles into the back.

“So, what’s up, Giles?” Willow asked, once the door was closed behind them.

“I’d like to speak to you about your magic.”

She immediately recalled the conversations they’d had when Buffy first came back. Lectures, really. It was more of a “talking at” situation. “You’re not the Watcher of me.”

“I’ve come to realize that.” He adjusted his glasses, wondering if she realized just how apt her statement was. “You have a great deal of talent, Willow. But little discipline. There are rules… responsibilities, accepted standards of behavior, which you know nothing about. You’ve stumbled into magic without – without the proper training, and I think it’s time you received more guidance in that area.”

“Are you sending me to Hogwarts?”

He tilted his head slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hogwarts,” Willow repeated. “From Harry Pot – oh, never mind. So, does this mean you want to train me?”

“Um, well, no. Most of my magical experience comes from my Ripper days, which I’m sure I don’t need to remind you are a poor model for proper behavior.” He looked at her carefully. “But I think you could benefit from the tutelage of an experienced witch.”

“Like my own Watcher,” Willow mused.

Giles raised his eyebrows. “Yes, in a sense. There are principles, theories, all sorts of academic notions that could greatly hone your skill. Think of our recent battle. You saw how Tara – she has much less raw power than you, but she’s able to focus her energy, to – to quite impressive result. Just think of what you could achieve with the proper mindset and the correct approach.”

More power. She capped that thought with a Tim Allen-esque grunt in her head and had to choke back giggles. “So, where’s this magic teacher come from?”

“There is a coven in England that has close ties with the Council. A few are good friends of mine. I should like to invite one of them to come here to instruct you.”

Willow’s face broadened into a grin. “Giles, that’s awesome. That’s – that’s so awesome!” She threw her arms around the Watcher’s neck, startling him with her enthusiasm.

He let his arms fold around her small frame, relieved to have put her on the right path. It worried him to see her so closely mirror his own past – reckless with her spells, allowing emotion and hubris to cloud her judgment at times. He still fretted over the resurrection spell, even though Buffy seemed to be adjusting quite well. With a history such as Willow’s, turning to magic – often with disastrous results – in times of pain and heartbreak and to right what she perceived as wrongs, he could see a pattern emerging that could have no end but tragic. He hoped to head her off at the pass, and with good fortune, the witches of the Devon coven would redirect her to a more constructive use of her power.