Spike snapped half a roll of film before Lyra made it through the doors on her first day of Kindergarten. She had changed clothes three times and insisted he set up the VCR to tape all her TV shows before they left the house.
Spike felt a bit teary as he watched her boldly step into the playground and accost the first girl that stood alone by the swings. She struck up a conversation right away.
She was growing up. Spike hated it when his children went and did that. When Robin was packing his bags for university, Spike had asked him several times if he was quite sure he didn't want to wait another year. Spike wasn't ready to let the boy go. But off he went and he'd be graduating the next spring.
He sat in the car until a loud bell rang and the children were hustled into the building.
Then he started up the car, wiping his eyes. He had other things to take car of today and they all centered on the local high school.
* * *
Buffy slumped into the library. The algebra test hadn't gone well. She was pretty sure she had spelled her name right and was wondering if she got points for that.
Willow, perversely, was all smiles and excitement. Willow loved tests. She said she enjoyed the challenge. Buffy wondered what kind of challenge it could possibly be for her new friend, who clearly had never in her life gotten lower than an A-.
“Buffy!” Her Watcher came out of his office. “I've been meaning to talk to you about your patrol last night. I've been thinking you could be far more efficient if we spent some time working out a pattern.
So apparently the day could get worse. Buffy let out a whine and put her head down on the table. First the bad hair day, then starting her period early in gym, then the algebra test, and now this.
“She's having a bad day.” Willow said quietly sitting down beside her friend.
“Who isn't? Were you in the same room as the rest of us? I didn't even know what half the words in the questions meant.” Xander threw his book bag onto the table and sat down.
The library doors swung open, admitting a man in a swirling black coat, “I'm looking for Rupert Giles.”
Buffy froze in head-on-table position and titled her head ever so slightly to get a view of the guy with the incredible accent and hot growly voice.
She sat up immediately.
“I'm Rupert Giles. Is there something I can help you with?” Giles put down the folder he was holding and replaced his glasses on his face.
The man reached into his coat and removed a sword in scabbard and placed it on the table. Giles eyes widened and he walked over to the weapon's placement as if in a trance.
“Is this what I think it is? Are you who I think you are?” Giles looked up at the man then.
“The names Spike now. Though I've had quite a few over the years. That my new charge?” He asked, indicating Buffy.
“Yes, how did you know?” Giles made to sit down and nearly slipped off the table.
'Spike' just looked at him, “Do you really think I've spent as much time with Slayers as I have and haven't learned to pick them out of a group?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Giles stuttered, “May I see the gift?”
Spike nodded and Buffy piped up finally, really wishing she had spent five more minutes with the straightening iron that morning, “THIS is my Obi-Wan?”
Spike focused on her now and blinked twice, “What?”
Buffy flushed, “Nothing. What gift?”
The sword he had picked up riveted Giles, “Around the 8th century the Eternal- sorry, 'Spike', began to give each of the girls a gift when he joined them for the first time. He made the weapons himself from Fey-mined metals and forged them in Hellfire. Then he had them consecrated in the Vatican. They are virtually indestructible, hold a razor-edge that never dulls and burn the damned.”
With that last point Giles nervously touched the blue blade gingerly and sighed in relief when nothing happened.
“Have something to share with the rest of us, Rupes? Little worried about the state of your immortal soul?” Spike raised an eyebrow.
Giles swallowed and lowered his hand form the blade.
“I wouldn't worry, your fine.” Spike continued.
Giles looked at him strangely and seemed to relax, “Oh. Well then.”
“Soooo… is the pretty killing thing for the Watcher or-“ Buffy led, eyes on the blade.
“For the Slayer, I'm sorry. I'm a bit distracted. I've dreamed about seeing a weapon like this since I joined the council.” Giles handed the sword to her, blade down.
Buffy stood up and gripped the hilt and lifted it up. Her fingers fit perfectly, “It's like it was made for me.”
“It was.” Spike said sitting down.
“How? You don't even know me! How did you know how my hands were or how long my arms are, or how much I can lift?” She gave the sword a practice swing and it flowed through the air mesmerizingly.
“I didn't have to meet you. I knew your name. Names have power and I repeated it when I made that.” Spike picked up on of the heavy books on the table and flipped through it.
Buffy blinked at him and gave the weapon another swing and a jab. She lifted it and held it straight out, it was perfectly balanced. She squinted and looked closer at the metal. There were scrollwork designed carved into it. They were beautiful.
And it was wholly unnecessary.
She looked over at her new mentor and smiled. He did it because it made the blade pretty. She started to form a picture of him in her mind.
She made herself put her new toy away and sit down at the table again.
Xander and Willow had followed the conversation like a tennis match, heads bobbing back and forth with whoever was speaking. Buffy smiled at them, “These are my friends. Willow and Xander meet Spike. Spike meet Willow and Xander.”
Spike raised his eyebrow again and this time Buffy was close enough to see the crucifix shaped scar in it, “Well met. But I'd advise you don't mention them to the council.” Spike glanced at Giles.
“No, I certainly won't be bringing them up anytime soon.” Giles sat down and Buffy realized they were in a circle.
It was apparent Willow had come to the same conclusion because she piped up finally,“Hey, we're like the Knights of the Round Table!”
“Not really. There were twenty-three of us back then. Arthur sat where Alexander is.” Spike sat back in the chair and put his feet up.
“Uh, it's Xander. And you were at the whole King Arthur thing?” Xander leaned forward.
“I'm not bastardizing a good name like that. I knew a king once and he would be rolling in his grave- well, he would if his bones weren't long since dust- if he heard his name shortened like that.”
“Oooo kay. But I don't remember a Sir Spike!” Xander protested.
“You wouldn't. I went by another name back then. Didn't I start out saying that?” Spike looked around.
Buffy smirked, “You did. Xander's a little slow.”
* * *
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