"So. What exactly was with your little performance earlier?" Xander had come home from at lunch to find most of his visitors passed out on the couch while Willow continued flipping through the rarer volumes he had in his collection, back pressed against Spike's legs as she sat in front of the couch. He and his best friend had spent the afternoon at the clinic, as planned, where he had introduced to her all of the people he had mentioned in his e-mails and she had gotten to know Sara and Ducks. It had been a slow day, with little work to do, so they had mostly sat on two of the empty beds and conversed torturously in slow English and rapid-fire French. When, a few hours later, they and the girls made their way back to the house so that Willow could take a shower and prepare for the upcoming 'big night,' it was to find Spike waiting on them. He had immediately risen from his position at the computer and beckoned Xander into the kitchen with a jerk of his head.

"Which performance? The dancing bear routine or the incredible mime act I pulled off while you all were asleep?" Xander joked.

Spike fixed him with a determined glare. "The 'we're all best buds and i don't mind that he's a vampire, really' performance." His imitation of Xander's accent caused the other man to suppress a chuckle.

"Honestly?" Xander turned his back, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and knocking it back. "I don't do much performing these days. What you see is what you get."

"Right. And you jumped on the Spike bandwagon when?" Spike's incredulity was evident.

"Did you spend all afternoon thinking about this?" Xander turned back around, raising an eyebrow at the suddenly discomfited vampire.

Spike shuffled his feet. "Well. Pretty much, yeah."

Xander grinned. "Neat." He tossed the now-empty bottle into a bin on the counter and his face settled into more serious lines. "I have to admit, all Spike bandwagon-jumpage happened after you and Anya died."

"Demon girl's dead?" Spike's surprise and dismay was obvious.

"Nobody told you?" Xander's face crumpled slightly, then firmed. "Died saving Andrew, back on the Hellmouth." The curtness of his tone told Spike that it was no time for apologies or reminiscence, so he quickly nodded his condolences and resumed his original topic.

"So in death, all sins are forgotten?" His smile was rueful as memories of his favorite ex-demon unwound in his mind. He was so caught up in the past that he was surprised by Xander's snort.

"Hardly. No. There was... a lot of talking. And a lot of objective assessment of past behavior in the absence of the irritating vampire we all thought we'd be glad to see the last of." He reached out and gripped Spike's shoulder. "Buffy told me what you did for her, after she came back. Before the end. And I'm grateful."

"What, that I took advantage of your best friend when she was feeling low?" Spike tried to jerk his shoulder out of the grip, but Xander wouldn't release him.

"No. That you talked to her, and listened to her, and just let her be - all of those things that the rest of us were too fucking self-absorbed to do." It was obvious from Xander's tone that there were still chasms in his psyche carved by self-recrimination and regret, but his eye was steady on Spike's face. "Not that I approve of the sexing, mind you - Buffy could spend the rest of her life in steel underwear and I'd still not be happy - but the friending, I am grateful for. I just wish we could have seen you when you were there."

Spike did slip free, this time, pulling himself around to face Xander dead on. "Back then, there wasn't much to see. I loved my girls, so I did what I could for them. Everyone else could've fallen straight into the Hellmouth, but for that it would affect 'em."

"And these days?"

"These days... I'd be slightly miffed if you fell in, Whelp. Especially since I went to all the trouble of closin' it in the first place." The grinned at each other, in perfect accord, until Willow walked into the room.

She looked from one to the other and shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Don't wanna know."

"You ready to go?" Xander asked, looping an arm around her neck.

"Where're we goin', then?" Spike looked past Willow and Xander to the empty living room. He could hear the Slayers moving around upstairs, giggling, but the heartbeats of the other two, asleep in Sara's bedroom, were slow and steady. "We're not gonna wake up Blue and Peaches?"

"Nah. Figured you two'd enjoy this more. And, well..."

"You don't really know them." Willow slipped her arm around his waist and squeezed. "It's okay."

Xander disentangled from her and slapped his hands together. "Right. Let's get going, then."

"Going where?" Spike's tone was growing more and more petulant. He and Willow had been trying to get answers from the boy all day, with no luck.

"You'll see when we get there." He led them out of the house and onto the shallow porch, where they were shaded from the last trickles of sunlight that were still being sucked back over the horizon. "It's just outside of town. And you'll have questions, I'm sure, but stay where I tell you and don't interfere, okay?"

"Um..." Willow sucked at her lower lip. "That's not filling me with confidence-y goodness, y'know."

"Have a little faith, hey?"

"Thought she was back in Cleveland."

Xander rolled his eyes at Spike, but smiled. "Believe it or not, I spent part of my day tellin' people that you weren't an asshole, Spike. Try not to prove me wrong."

Spike protested, but couldn't help the grin that carved its way across his face. This whole acceptance gig was something he had only just gotten used to in LA. Feeling it again, with the Scoobies he had long given up as a lost cause, filled him with decidedly non-evil warm bubblies that he wouldn't be caught undead telling anyone about. He bounced twice on his heels and followed Xander and Willow down the street.

The had only walked for a few minutes when Willow and Xander's mortal ears pricked at what Spike had picked up on back at the house. The low murmur of hushed conversation, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the tuning of unfamiliar instruments, washed over the still evening. When Xander led them around the building that held the local church, long since converted into a schoolhouse, the silver-toned shadows lifted to reveal a circle of sixty or so people standing within a slightly larger circle of tall torches. One end of the circle was marked by a group of musicians bearing painted gourds and long staves, now plucking or shaking out warm-up notes, and a tall man who stood just before them. Willow noticed a few people in the circle whom she had met earlier in the day, dark faces gilded with firelight and sheened with sweat. Most of them wore jeans and T-shirts or long, loose cotton tunics over wide-legged cotton pants or skirts.

They came to a halt in the shadow of the building, able to see everything but separate from the proceedings.

"What is it?" Spike asked, his voice carrying over the space between them and the others. He bounced on his toes, attempting to get a better view.

"Shut it!" Xander hissed, flicking at Spike's hand. "If you can't stand still you can go back to the house." Spike turned and glared at Xander, but quieted
Willow tapped cautiously on Xander's shoulder. He flicked another quelling glare but softened when he saw it was her. "What?" He whispered.
"What's going on?" She gestured towards the tall, thin man in the white smock who was standing to the edge of the circle and singing.

"That's the master; he's singing the litany... Um, a story-song. I can't understand all of it. In a minute, the musicians will start the corridos, and the fights will start."

"Fights?" She squeaked. Spike turned with renewed interest.

"Just watch, Wils." Xander returned his focus to the roda, while Spike and Willow exchanged curious glances behind his back.

After a few minutes, the tempo of the music changed and the master's voice dropped away. A low, slow beat began that was echoed back by the watchers, and soon the master began a new song. He trilled, and a tambourine scattered counterpoint notes to the steady throb. Two men stepped out of the circle and faced one another, smiling and nodding. The crowd began to clap in time to the music, and a few voices joined the master's.

The two men stood, splay-legged, but began tapping one foot back, then the other, marking out a triangle with their shifting weight. Spike watched Xander, who was leaning slightly forward and whose eye was bright. Suddenly the fight began, one of the men lashing out with a high kick that was fluidly avoided by a low, sweeping dodge, then returned. The first man jumped back and sideways before flipping backwards and resettling into the strange triangular bobbing motion. His opponent approached him, crouched low, and flashed a kick out that was easily avoided; the kick was a feint, as the man braced his weight on his palm and levered himself up onto his arm, kicking out with the other leg towards the man's stomach. The crowd hissed, but he pulled the kick back just before it impacted. Xander grinned and stepped forward, shaking his head when Spike and Willow moved to follow. He stepped into the roda, clapping along with the others. Ten minutes more, and the two men in the circle stepped apart and retreated back into the lines of onlookers. Their places were taken by two new men, one of whom was much older than the other. They began the strange bobbing dance and quickly began to fight. The younger man was strong and agile, but the older was whip-quick and always a step ahead of his opponent. While the one dashed out blows and launched himself from his hands to aim heavy kicks against his opponent, the other bobbed and wove around him, practically dancing between the strikes.

Another fifteen minutes and they too were done, and now Willow and Spike were watching just as avidly as the rest of the crowd. Another pair, this one a man and a woman, went through the same process, again never actually landing a blow. The tempo of the music had changed periodically, dipping from slow and steady to quick and upbeat, and the crowd's ululations and chanting changed with it. Now, however, the music skipped up to a nearly frenzied pace as a very young woman, dressed in black drawstring trousers and a sports bra, stepped forward. Willow looked for her opponent but saw nobody move - then she noticed. Xander was peeling out of his red T-Shirt and taking off his shoes. He stepped forward and bowed, and Willow hissed and grabbed Spike's hand, dragging him forward.

"That's Sara!" She hissed, and Spike nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the two in the circle.

"What the hell is the whelp doing fighting a Slayer?" He muttered, and Willow only shook her head, nails digging into Spike's palm.

The Slayer lashed out without warning, a deadly kick aimed at Xander's head, but Xander was already spinning on his back, pulling in his knees to smash his feet against Sara's thigh. She only just noticed the movement and flipped back and away, so Xander used his momentum to flip to his feet. Sara spun a kick at his midsection, but he danced back and began a cartwheel, kicking out in the middle to knock her leg aside. She grinned toothily, and Xander flipped back to his feet. Sara popped up into a handstand and scissored her legs at him, catching him around the shoulders, but Xander jerked sideways and brought them both spinning towards the ground; he landed heavily on his hands and toes, but she thumped to the earth. The crowd howled and the music picked up still further, the two fighters dodging and darting until Xander lunged at Sara and brought her crashing into the dirt.

Xander was sheened with sweat and now caked with dust, bright against the dark of his tanned skin. The firelight flickered and pulsed, and when he gained his feet and called for chamada, a ritual period where the teacher can explain to the student what is being done wrong, he looked like an ancient warrior-god leering at his foe. Sara gained unsteady feet and the two paced the length of the circle, talking in low voices. Then Xander signaled an end to the chamada, and immediately sprung at Sara. The girl only grinned and flipped him easily over her hip, and Xander sprung up laughing.

The two danced for almost half an hour, flipping and kicking and throwing each other. Willow asked Spike why they had so much more physical contact than the others, but Spike could only shrug, entranced by the patterns. Finally they broke apart, Xander gasping and Sara grinning, and they bowed again to one another. The master stepped forward and put a hand on Xander's shoulder to lead him away, and people broke from the roda to dance in the middle of the circle. Xander beckoned at his friends, and they walked towards him.

"What was that?" Willow demanded, hands on her hips. Xander laughed, dropping to the ground with his back to a tree. The master settled more gracefully beside him, and Spike took their cue, flopping elegantly to the ground.

"That was the capoeira. Sort of." Xander was sweating, and the master handed him a water bottle.

"What's a capa-whatzit?" Willow, too, sat, though not before making a moue of distaste at the thought of getting dust all over her jeans.

"It's a traditional fight-dance. I don't speak enough of anything to know all about it, but... basically, it's what you saw. Though this one was just a way to start the party. Anyway. It's kind of a martial-arts thing, y'know? Mostly foot-work, and lots of flipping."

"I hadn't noticed." Willow's voice was dry, and she flicked wondering eyes over her best friend's body. It hadn't been obvious from a distance, especially with the firelight flickering over him, but Xander was in better shape than she had ever seen him. Nothing of the pudgy carpenter about him now, nor even the swimmer he had been in school. He was long and lithe and dangerous looking.

"Like what you see?" He joked, poking at Willow with a toe. She stuck her tongue out at him. "This is Rob," he introduced the man at his side, who bowed his head slightly in their direction. "Well, he's Rob as much as Ducks is Ducks, but we get by."

Rob looked down his nose at Xander, then smiled and spoke in clipped, formal English. "After a fashion." He held out his hand to Willow. "How do you do?"

"Hey, I'm great. I'm also Willow. I mean, that's my name..." Willow stumbled to a halt, blushing. Xander patted her knee with his dirty foot, and she smiled ruefully at him and reached out to shake Rob's hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Willow. And you are?" He asked, extending his hand towards Spike.

"Sp... Will, Sir. Nice to meet you." Spike shook the hand quickly, dropping it as soon as he could. The man had strange magic and it tingled unpleasantly against his palm.

"You would be Spike, then." Rob grinned, teeth a white slash against the shadow of his face. "Xander has told me much of you."

Spike whipped around to glare at Xander, who only smirked. "I'm sure."

"Nothing too terrible, though I must say I am fairly surprised to see you, as I had last heard that you were quite thoroughly dead."

"For a bit, there, I thought so too." The two men looked at each other in ancient understanding, then turned to the others.

"So, whelp, what's with the whole taking on of the mini-Slayer?" Spike leaned back on his elbows and looked at Xander.

"And when did you learn how to fight like that?" Willow interjected.

"Easy, kids." Xander held up his hands. "Lessee. I started watching the fights as soon as I got here; stumbled across one in Marrakech - which is where I finally learned French - and got hooked. I watched for a couple of weeks, and started bringing my Slayer along." He settled himself more securely against the tree and resumed talking. "Most of the Slayers north of the Congo got picked up by the Council, but Shireen was only twelve or so; I found her pretty fast - she'd gotten a little gang together and was trying to keep some of the street kids safe. Anyway. She could only speak Arabic and a little French, so I was keeping her with me until things got settled with the new Council and she'd learned some English. In exchange, she decided that she'd teach me a little about fighting. We were sparring after one of the matches so she could try out some of the tricks she'd seen when one of the fighters ran into us. He invited us to a few matches and began giving Shireen pointers, and then he invited her into one of the games. Pretty soon after that Giles sent for her, but I kept a lookout for the capoeira wherever I went. Most places have some form of it, now, and I got pretty good. Whenever I pick up a Slayer I teach them; I'm nowhere near strong enough to spar with, but most of the girls need to learn restraint and some moves more than they need power or instincts."

Willow was staring at him. "Buffy said that some of the girls were teaching the others a different way to fight; she thought it was just a cultural thing."

Xander laughed. "Technically, Wils, it is."

"Okay," Spike drew the word out, calling their attention to him. "What I'm still not seeing is how you, the - no offense - bumbling boy-champion, just beat a Slayer."

"I didn't!" Xander protested, and took another swig from his water bottle.

Rob chuckled. "Yes, you did. Within the constraints of the dance, you are almost unparalleled."

Xander looked stunned, but quickly recovered. "Well, I watched Buff for years. Must've picked something up."

"Yeah," Spike muttered, shaking his head. "Must've."