Working Girl


Written by: Ripe Wicked Plum
 Author's Website





Summary: Post Flooded. Buffy's job searching, Spike's helping, and Willow and Giles are plotting.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: wickedplum@hotmail.com





"Hard-working, industrious worker wanted..." Buffy read aloud, "$500 a night...oh, like that...experience needed...I got tons of that..."

Spike took a drag on his cigarette, eyeing her warily as he snatched the classifieds out of the Slayer's hands, looking down at the ad she circled, "Um...pet? This is for an escort service..."

"I can escort...I date...Well, I have experience in dating!"

Spike raised an eyebrow, "Luv, not that kind of escort..."

"What? What kind of escort...?" Buffy groaned as Spike raised his eyebrow suggestively. "Ewwww..."

"Not that you wouldn't earn more then that..."

"Once again...EEEWWW!" Buffy grabbed the newspaper from him, and slapped him upside the head with it as he smirked at her.

"I got five on me right now...I was gonna buy some fags...but since you're in a bind..."

Buffy snorted, "You're supposed to be helping...if you're not going to be serious..."

"Fine, fine..." Spike put on a straight face as he hopped on a tombstone, "My opinion is that you wait on selling your body till I get to the bank. I hate sloppy seconds..." Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, and Spike held up his hands, "All right. I'm done. Promise."

"Good," Buffy looked down at the paper, "There's waitressing at that Fifties diner..." Buffy grimaced, "I think they make you wear poodle skirts..."

Spike shuddered, "There's a bit of Americana I coulda done without," The vampire muttered, shaking his head, "At least Dru rubbed some blood on her poodle's snout."

"Drusilla wore poodle skirts?"

"What can I say?" Spike shrugged with a grin, "She was insane."

"What's everyone else's excuse?" Buffy shook her head, "Definitely last resort. Just above working the corner...but just."

Spike chuckled, taking the paper from her, and glancing through them quickly, "Well...there's a hairdresser job..."

"I have to actually attend school to do that, Spike."

"What? Since when?"

"They call them cosmetologists. They have trade schools."

"Damn. I remember the days when the barber was a dentist too..."

"Yeah, yeah, and you had to walk five hours, all uphill, in the snow, barefoot, to find a victim."

"Haha, smart-ass," Spike pulled a grimace at her, but it was playful as he turned his attention back to the paper, scooting over a bit as Buffy sat on the tombstone with him. "Let's see...pet store..."

"Animals hate me."

"McDonald's?"

"Grease equals pimples."

"Teacher's aide?"

"Dropped out of college."

"Babysitter?"

"Little kids are the spawn of Satan."

Spike looked at her in exasperation, "Are you always this picky?"

"I'm not picky...I'm choosy..."

"Uhuh...I'm going to buy you a thesaurus, Slayer..."

"Why? You think I'm going to read it like you did, nerd-boy?"

"See if I ever tell you anything again!"

"Oh...I'm sorry...I know immortality can be boring...oh wait...you did that BEFORE you died."

Spike growled at her, "Keep that up, pet, and you're going to be looking into your new career as an organ donor."

"Haha. Oh!" Buffy looked excited, "I could be a cop!"

"You? A cop?" Spike snorted.

"Hey, don't scoff. I'll have you know, when I took the career test in school, they said I could be a cop...they help people and stuff...well, except for the one at Career Day who shot at me."

"The cop tried to shoot you?"

"Well, duh," Buffy gave him a look, "She was working for your little assassin group."

"Whoops?"

"Hmmpphh..." Buffy cocked her head slightly, "How hard can it be, really? I mean...running after people...catching them...beating them up..."

"Oh? So you're joining the LAPD?"

Buffy gave him a look, then let out a snort that was almost a laugh, "My point was that I'm a natural. With my slaying abilities, I actually have an edge..."

"Luv...I don't know...sometimes they have to shoot to kill...I mean...at people...is that seriously something you could do? You couldn't even do in that Ben chap, and he was harboring Glory..."

"Oh..." Buffy frowned slightly, "Well...it's not like there's a lot of shootings in Sunnydale. Actually, I'm pretty sure our police force sit on their butts all day and eat donuts...but they get paid. Which is the real big attraction here."

Spike sighed, shaking his head slightly, "I don't know, Buffy...but if this is something you want to do...I completely support you."

She smiled at him slowly as she stood up, "Thanks. I really need that right now."

Spike watched as she started to head home, then turned his face upwards, "Please, God...if this doesn't work...let her get that job as an escort..."

"I heard that, William!"

Spike grinned, winking at her before standing and sweeping towards his crypt, and the Slayer shook her head slightly with a smile, turning towards home.

* * *


"All right, recruits!" The instructor barked at the lined up trainees. Buffy stood between two huge hulking men, only coming up to their chests. Her golden, blond hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and she was dressed in tight, dark blue shorts and a t-shirt that had the SDPD logo on the breast. "Line up, and let me look at you, you filthy little maggots!"

Buffy leaned over a bit to look at him, and he was on her in a second, screaming in her face, "Are you looking for something, recruit?!" He shouted, and Buffy closed her eyes as spittle flew in her face.

"A spit guard..." She muttered beneath her breath, and the instructor drew back angrily, and she cursed her big mouth.

"DROP DOWN AND GIVE ME FIFTY!"

Buffy rolled her eyes, and dropped down, starting to do pushups as he looked down the line, "Let this be a lesson, you scum-sucking, sorry excuses for human beings! Don't talk unless you are spoken too...don't look unless I tell you too look! You don't even breathe unless I tell you to breath! GOT THAT?!"

Buffy stood up, finished with even having broken a sweat, and he looked towards her, "I SAID FIFTY!"

"I did fifty."

"THEN DO FIFTY MORE! COUNT THEM OFF!"

Buffy rolled her eyes, and went back to the ground, swiftly doing pushups, sarcastically switching to one-handed mid-way through, then bounced to her feet.

"I see we have a smart-ass here," The instructor glared at Buffy, "Well, smart ass, If you're so amazing, do you think you could take me?! Or afraid you'll mess up your pretty head of hair?!"

Buffy's eyes narrowed, and then her fist shot out of her own volition, and he hit the ground, unconscious.

Buffy stood over his prone body, shaking her head slightly as she knelt a bit as he groggily opened his eyes, "Wow...and I didn't even break a nail." He grunted as she stepped on his chest to get over him, and stalked away. Maybe Spike was right...she was definitely not law-enforcement material.

* * *


Spike was sitting in his chair, reading a book as Buffy came in, still dressed in the shirt and shorts they had given her, and he raised an eyebrow as he lit up a cigarette, "How'd it go?"

She sighed as she plopped down on the couch across from him, muttering an obscenity beneath her breath in reply, "That good, huh? Well, no worries...you'll find something..." Spike said, starting to read again, "There's some coke in the fridge if you want it."

"Thanks..." Buffy got up and went towards the mini-fridge, choosing not to note the prominence of real, people food and drinks that were non-alcoholic inside it, with Spike's blood bags shoved to the side. She only grabbed a coke and an apple, sitting back down on the couch. "It was like G.I. Jane...'cept I didn't have the urge to stop waxing my legs and shave my head."

"Pity that," Spike replied, "I fancy you'd look good with the Sinead O'Connor style..."

She tossed her apple at him, and he caught it without looking up from his book.

"Spike...it's upside down."

"I know," The vampire replied, looking up at her, "I like reading them like that...or I'll go through them too fast during the day." Buffy stared at him for several seconds, and he lifted an eyebrow, "What?"

"You're too weird."

"I'm weird? Who's sitting here with a vampire in a dank, dirty crypt on a perfectly beautiful day?" Spike sat his book aside, folding his hands in his lap as he leaned forward, his face crossing with a serious look, "Buffy...I want to talk to you about something..."

Buffy's eyes widened slightly. Oh God...not this...not now...

"I gotta go..." She stood suddenly, making a swift break for the door, and Spike jumped to his feet.

"Buffy!"

She turned, shaking her head, her eyes wide, "I can't do this, Spike...don't you understand? I just can't..."

"Buffy, it's not..."

"Night, Spike..." Buffy raced out the door, leaving the vampire to stare after her.

* * *


Buffy let herself into the house, listening to Giles argue with a bill collector on the phone, closing her eyes as she leaned against the doorway, catching her breath. She had ran all the way from the cemetery as if the hounds of hell were on her heels.

She knew it had to be coming. She didn't want it too...but she knew he could only wait so long before he had to start asking questions. But why now? He knows I can't deal with this right now! She lamented. Since she had been back, he had been one of her closest friends.

A rock for her to lean against when she was feeling weak, and just wanted it all to end again. A sympathetic ear when she just wanted to talk. He knew when she just wanted to mope, and remained silent, just sitting with her, and he knew when she needed cheering up, and he would make her laugh. He understood not only that she was the Slayer...but he also understood WHO she was, apart from the Slayer. It was almost ironic that her greatest enemy was now her best friend, even above Willow.

Buffy sighed, shaking her head slightly. He had already become indispensable to her...and her day wasn't complete unless she had a chance to be with him alone. Sometimes, she was with him twice a day, and those were the days she didn't dream about heaven, and wake up crying for what she had lost.

She couldn't deal with anything having to do with love or romance or anything. She just...needed him. That was it...why he wanted to discuss anything of the sort right now was beyond her.

"Buffy?" Giles' voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and she smiled wanly at the Watcher, "How did it go?"

"Did you get the morning paper?" She asked by way of an answer, and Giles sighed, shaking his head slightly.

"Buffy..."

"I know, I blew it, Giles..."

"Buffy...you can't screw around now...I can pay some...but not all of the bills...I can't spend the rest of my life in Su...on the couch..."

She looked at him sharply at his near slip-up, pushing away from the door, "I got it, Giles," She said a trifle coldly, starting up the stairs to her room.

"Buffy..." Giles called out, but she ignored him, and he sighed deeply as he glanced at the now ringing phone. Ah...bloody hell...

* * *


Buffy scratched at her large, padded bra, her hair piled up on her head in the parody of a bouffant hairdo. Her poodle skirt was rough and scratchy cotton, and she was sweating to death in her stupid costume.

A notepad was tucked in the pocket of her apron, and she pulled it out as she waited on a group of rowdy college guys. At least she had some experience waitressing in LA...but she remembered now why she hated it. Everyone tipped lousy, and she was paid less then minimum wage.

She sighed as she turned, gritting her teeth together when one of the boys grabbed her ass, resulting in raucous laughter.

She stuck the piece of paper on a spinning wheel, and sent it towards the kitchen side, taking a few plates, and bringing them to a table with two elderly people at it. They immediately started complaining, and she had to bring the meal back to the kitchen. She had only been working there for two days, and already she was ready to fling her fake boobs at the manager and tell him to shove her job where the sun didn't shine.

Her night just couldn't get any worse.

"Summers, table five is yours," A bored hostess ordered, and Buffy nodded, heading towards a table in the back, then froze with a groan.

"What are you doing here?"

"Bein' traumatized, apparently..." Spike replied, staring at her huge chest, "Good Lord...what in the bleedin' hell is that?"

"About sixty pounds of padding," Buffy replied, "What are you doing here?'

"I got a bit hungry, and heard that there was a cute little blond workin' here," Spike replied with a rakish grin, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Spike, we don't serve what you eat here. Take my word for it."

"Hey, I eat normal food."

"We don't have blooming onions either."

"Really? What kind of crappy establishment is this?"

"Spike...you're going to get me in trouble."

"Fine, fine," He smiled as he looked over the menu, "What do you recommend?"

"McDonald's...two blocks down, big golden arch...can't miss it."

"Haha...I'll take the special..."

"It's your funeral," Buffy said, then tapped her pencil against her lips, "Oh, right...you already had one of those. We should start a club...we could call it...The Undead Poet's Society."

"Ha bloody ha. Maybe you should be a comedienne, pet. 'Cause you're just soo hilarious."

"I could be a super heroine," Buffy thrust out her chest, "I got the measurements."

Spike burst out laughing, then glanced around when everyone started staring at him, and he cleared his throat, "Better run along, luv. Those fogies look about ready to take a chomp out of you."

"Old people are the spawn of Satan."

"I thought that was children."

"Well...same thing...it's kind of a backward spiral, I'm thinking."

"Not all of us can stay young and beautiful," Spike said, batting his eyelashes at her coyly, and Buffy snorted, "Anything to drink with your meal, sir?"

"Sure...just cut up one of the chefs, and dribble in the glass..."

"Coke it is. I'm going to spit in it for that remark."

"Could you at least bite your lip first...?"

Buffy grimaced at him, "I'm spitting in your hamburger too."

"I was kidding!" Spike said as she glided away from the table, grinning as he leaned back in his seat, glad to see a smile on her face once more.

He watched as she carried a large tray towards the table with the frat boys, scowling when they made crude remarks, but she acidly cut them down, and she winked at him as she passed by again, her mood lifted considerably. Even so, he still checked his coke for spit when he got it.

Buffy soon came with his food, and slid into the booth across from him, taking her ten minute break, and stealing some of his french fries. "Ugh...this place sucks," She said, "Those old people actually tipped me a dollar. I have mortgages, credit card bills and a kid sister to provide for...and they tip me a buck."

"I could go corner them in the back...flash them a little game face...they'll drop their wallets and run like hell. Works like a charm..."

"Yeah, Anya told me about your extracurricular activities. You're not still...?"

"God, no. I do have some dignity, Slayer," He grimaced, "Stopped doing it around the time I officially joined the good side of the force. Specifically cause I kept thinking about you in that gold bikini Leia wore..."

Buffy tossed a fry at his head, and he looked at her innocently, "What I say?"

"Shut it, Deadboy. I'm trying to enjoy your meal."

"So I see," Spike shook his head as she dug into his food, but didn't protest, "Don't they feed you in this dive?"

"Nope. We're not supposed to eat on our shifts," Buffy grimaced, "Not that it's a big loss."

Spike lit a cigarette as he contemplated the blond across from him, wondering if this was a good time to bring up the subject foremost in his mind. He pushed it aside for the moment as she stood up, her break over, "See ya later, Spike. I got to do a patrol."

"All right," Spike stood, pulling on his duster, and reaching in his pocket, dropping a few bills on the table as Buffy headed towards the back to grab another order that was up.

The hostess went to clean up the table Spike was at, then glanced down at the money, her eyes lighting up as she pocketed the two fifties, replacing it with a few dollar bills from her apron, glancing at Buffy as she did so, then moved away swiftly.

* * *


Buffy headed over towards Spike's crypt, where they usually met for patrol, pausing as she stood outside the door, listening to Spike argue with someone. She peeked in the crypt, surprised to see Spike on a cell phone, angrily shouting into it in what sounded like French, and she raised an eyebrow.

Spike hung up with a graphic threat in plain English, tossing the cellphone on the couch, running a hand through his hair, which was standing on end, muttering in annoyance, "Bloody red tape...I'll give you red tape, you froggy bastards..."

"Spike, it's not nice to call French people that."

Spike jumped, glancing at Buffy as she came in, "Were you eavesdropping?!"

"Please...it'd only be eavesdropping if I understood a word you said. Now, if you were talking about touching cows on a weekday...I'd be eavesdropping..."

Spike frowned slightly, then shook his head, "I'm just going to smile and nod and pretend I understand what you're prattling on about," Spike replied, lighting a cigarette, "Please tell me you're going to change before patrol. I'm not going to be seen in public with you dressed like that. I'm already the laughing stock of the demon-world."

"Haha, fang breath," Buffy grimaced at him, "I brought a change of clothes. Is there somewhere...?"

"Downstairs. Don't touch anything."

"Oh, yeah...cause I'm just dying to touch anything in your dirty little crypt."

"It's not dirty...well...not since Tara and Willow descended down on me like the tenth plague..."

"Aww...did the big bad witches make Spike clean his room?" Buffy asked in a cutesy voice and Spike rolled his eyes.

"Go change."

"Tooouuccchhhyyyy..." Buffy sang out as she went downstairs.

She glanced around as she shut the trapdoor to prevent peeking. She hadn't been down there since before she had died, and then it was only filled with dust, bones, a creepy Buffy-shrine, and of course, chains.

She raised an eyebrow as she glanced around, noting the new additions such as a large, four-poster bed, and weapons lining the walls. There was a bookcase in the corner, filled to the brim with his books, and a small desk beside that, covered in what looked like blueprints and legal papers.

Before, Spike's crypt had always been bare, without any sort of decoration, as if the vampire was always prepared to be gone in a hurry, without worrying about personal belongings. From the look of things, he was planning on staying for the long haul now.

Buffy picked up some of the papers, looking over them, then sighed when she saw some were in French, and others in German. She turned her attention to the blueprints, picking one up. It looked like the plans to a castle...but why would Spike want blueprints of a castle?

She dropped the blueprint when Spike pounded on the trapdoor, "Bloody 'ell, Slayer...you better not be snooping around down there!"

Buffy shook her head as she swiftly changed, then retorted as she returned upstairs, "Like you can whine about people snooping in your room. Hypocritical much?"

"Sheesh...steal a few knickers, and you never let a bloke forget..."

"What? You stole my underwear?!"

Spike would've blushed if he could, and he cleared his throat, "Um...no. Absolutely not. What kind of weirdo would steal a bird's doilies? Are we gonna patrol or what?"

"Uhuh..." Buffy eyed Spike warily as he held the door open for her, "I'm going to count my underwear when I get home."

"Doesn't prove a thing. Buffy-bot coulda lost it," Spike replied, looking a bit panicked, "She was irresponsible like that."

"You're telling me that a robot lost my underwear?"

Spike shrugged with a sheepish grin, "Could be."

"Hmmm..." Buffy eyed the vampire as they headed into the night, "And how many pairs did Buffy-bot lose?"

"Uh...you know...one or two...probably closer to six..."

"Spike!"

* * *


"I don't get it..." Buffy looked up at Giles, "I work my ass off all day...and I still can't pay my bills, Giles..."

"Buffy...uh..." Giles cleaned his glasses, "Being a waitress just isn't raking in the big bucks...and I'm afraid that...you're simply not earning enough to pay the bills..."

"This sucks..." Buffy pouted, "And people tip lousy."

"I...do have a bit of a nest egg...not much, since I put so much into the Magic Box..."

"I can't take your money, Giles," Buffy shook her head, "I'll just have to take more hours...maybe even look for another job...Spike can help with the Slaying at least..."

"Ah....that brings me to another issue..." Giles cleared his throat a bit uncomfortably, "How...much time have you been spending with Spike, exactly?"

Buffy looked up at him sharply, "Why is that an issue? It seems like a non-issue at the moment, don't you think?"

"Buffy..."

"I mean...my basement looks like the set of Titanic, my sister is thisclose to wearing clothes I steal off vampires, and I just found out that ten, not six pairs of my underwear are missing...Spike? Really not an issue..."

"I'm...just going to pretend to understand that underwear comment," Giles said in some confusion, "And...perhaps you shouldn't...spend so much time..."

"Giles, bills...losing my home...can we stick to the basics here?" Buffy asked a trivial coldly, "I got enough to deal with. I don't want new issues on the table till I deal with the old ones."

Giles shook his head slightly, but gave in as he sat down across from her, "Right now...I suppose we should worry more about the mortgage...power and water won't do us any good if you don't have a place to send it too..."

"Right...mortgage..." Buffy sighed heavily, "What's it going to cost me?"

"Well...uh..." Giles gave her a figure, and Buffy's eyes widened, "Giles! That's what I make in two weeks!"

"I'm aware it's a bit high...but with property values..."

"Oh God..." Buffy buried her face in her hands, "Kill me now...please."

"Buffy, I realize it's hard..."

"Hard?! No...killing Angel was hard...dealing with my mom dying and my sister being a Key was hard...this is impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible..."

"Oh no...you sound like an inspiration poster...it's that bad isn't it?" Buffy groaned, then stood up, heading towards the door, "I need...to be somewhere..."

"Buffy...you can't run away from this..."

"I'm not running...I'm...avoiding...big " Buffy darted out the door, leaving an exasperated Giles behind.

* * *


"I'm going to start charging you rent," Spike threatened lightly as Buffy slipped into his crypt, and she let out a strangled scream as she flopped down on the couch, and Spike stared at her, "Do I even want to know what that was about?"

"Money...evil...root of all things that are bad."

"That's only if you don't got it, luv," Spike replied, and Buffy sighed.

"I remember when I was ten and I said I was going to marry a millionaire...why oh why didn't I follow through with that plan?"

"Shame, luv...thought you were less shallow then that."

"I am...just not right now..." Buffy lifted her head, "What was the number of that escort service again?"

Spike chuckled, and then his grin disappeared, "You're not serious?"

"Of course not! Well...not totally..." Buffy grimaced, "I have to do something, Spike..."

"I thought burning down the house for the insurance was a good way to go."

"You would..." Buffy snorted, "I can sell the jeep...but I don't actually own it. My mom was leasing..." She frowned suddenly, realizing that there was an empty table in front of the chair he was sitting in, "Um...where's your TV?"

"Pawned it."

"For what? Blood, booze and cigarettes?"

Spike gave her a look, and then understanding crossed his face, "Who cleaned the table I was at the other night?"

"Umm...Mandy, I think...why?" Spike growled beneath his breath, and Buffy raised an eyebrow, "What's with you?"

"Nothing," Spike shook his head, "Never trust a woman with a bouffant hair-do. The bloody bitch."

"Oookkkaayyy..." Buffy eyed him, "Have you been drinking?"

"No," Spike sighed, "Sadly not."

Buffy shook her head in confusion as Spike scowled at the empty spot his television had been in. "Any ideas?"

"Had one, didn't pan out all that well," Spike grumbled, then shrugged, "Luv...me and finances? We're like oil and water. That's why I had Dalton. He got fried by the Judge a'course," Spike scowled, "I'm still kicking myself over that. He knew the code to my Swiss bank account. I can't seem to find it, and the bastards aren't being too helpful either."

"Can we stop with the money talks?" Buffy pleaded, "It just reminds me I'm a few weeks away from being booted from my own home."

"I'm sorry, luv...if I can do anything...?"

"Only if you won the lottery suddenly," Buffy said glumly, then sat up with a sigh, "I better get going. I ran out on Giles and he's already kinda miffed with me. Says I'm trying to run away from the problem."

"You are, pet..." At Buffy's look, Spike shrugged sheepishly, "Not that any of it is my business..."

"Good," Buffy headed towards the door with a sigh, "Maybe I'll see you after work."

"Yeah, I'll be here..." Spike said, sighing as Buffy shut the door, "Watching the bloody wall...like the nonce I am..."

* * *


Giles and Willow tensely conferred with each other quietly in a corner of the living room, the heaviness of their argument before hanging in the air before them, but their disagreement was shoved away for the moment for a supposedly 'bad' influence in Buffy's life. Unfortunately, they were both agreeing with each other.

"That's where she's been going every night, isn't it? I just thought...it was like...before...when she would sneak out to do one more patrol...I never thought that she'd..."

Giles' face screwed up a bit, then he nodded slowly, "I imagine that's where she's going," The Watcher said tensely, and Willow frowned a bit.

"Is it really so bad?"

Giles stared at her like she had sprouted a second head, "It's Spike..."

"I know...but for he helped us slay...and protect Dawn...he wasn't doing it for money or because he wanted to get into Buffy's pants..."

"I know that," Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I--I don't doubt Spike has feelings for Buffy...but it's Buffy we have to worry about...you're of course noticed Buffy's...uh...strange behavior..."

"Well...she just escaped from a hell dimension...she's adjusting...and everything's been stressful..."

"This is different, and you know it...she won't let anyone near her...she even has trouble getting close to Dawn again...all she does is work, slay...and spend the rest of her free time with Spike...he could be taking advantage of her confusion, and vulnerability..."

Willow looked worried, "You don't think..."

"He may love her, somewhat, Willow...but he's still a soulless vampire...he has no moral code or..."

"I get the point," Willow looked down at her hands, her lips tightening, "What do you think we should do then?"

"I think it's time we finally persuaded Spike to move on."
 

TBC...


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