Escape

"Rough night, I presume?"

Buffy cringed, not answering as Quentin stood before her the next morning, eyeing the healing wounds with a look of intense dissatisfaction apparent in his gaze.



It had been close to 11:00 last night that she'd run into Spike, and Quentin had arrived that morning bright and annoyingly early, at 8:00 on the nose. Most of her bruises had already disappeared, but there hadn't been enough time for either the wound on her cheek or her rather obvious and painful limp to mend themselves completely, even with the superhuman healing powers.

More than ever, she wanted to punch the judgmental old coot that stood before her with hands clasped behind his back, clearly determined to tear her down in one way or another.

"Rupert tells me you are learning rather well."

Giles nodded at this statement, opening his mouth to speak. But before he could, Quentin turned to face him, raising a hand to silence him. "But unfortunately, her present... state, for lack of a better word, tells me otherwise."

"Quentin," Giles broke in, furiously cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt, "It's only been a week. Most slayers require months of training before-"

"Most slayers," Quentin interrupted, once again turning his piercing gaze on Buffy, "Begin training the moment they are called, unlike Miss Summers." Clenching her jaw, Buffy cast her eyes downward, suddenly finding her feet incredibly fascinating as she felt Quentin's eyes boring holes into her. "We have limited time to work with, Rupert, as so much of it has already been wasted."

Giles fell silent at that, unable to muster an appropriate response.

"Once night falls, you are to patrol again," continued Quentin in his usual condescending and authoritative voice. "Several members of the council, myself included, will follow you tonight in order to observe firsthand exactly what you have learned. So I suggest you take the remainder of the day to prepare accordingly."

Buffy nodded, still refusing to lift her head as she was afraid that one look at him might infuriate her enough to pummel the man into a bloody pulp without thinking twice.

"Good day, Rupert." Was the last thing that was said before Buffy heard the door close, and she finally lifted her head and sighed in relief as she realized Quentin was gone.

~~~~~~~

Later that night, Buffy once again found herself patrolling the alleys and graveyards, looking for any signs of disturbance. She'd already dusted two vampires, fresh from their graves, and thankfully both times had gone without incident. Now, as she weaved her way through crumbling headstones in yet another darkened cemetery, she sighed heavily, knowing the council members were likely somewhere within the vicinity. She figured they were probably hiding in the shadows several hundred feet away so they could observe her from a distance. Or they would be soon, if they weren't already.

Buffy was so distracted by this knowledge that the council was most likely watching her every move, she didn't even notice his presence until he was almost on top of her, placing a hand on her shoulder and spinning her around roughly. Gasping in shock over being caught off guard, Buffy raised her stake instinctively, and her stomach leapt into her throat when she saw who it was.

Fists flew before she could even stop to think, venting her anger and frustration as she gave his jaw two stiff jabs that sent him momentarily reeling.

"What the fuck do you want now?!" She hissed, peeking over her shoulder to watch for covert council members.

Growling, Spike rubbed his aching jaw, refusing to back down. His eyes were a midnight blue as they glittered with defiance in the moonlight. "I think you know," Was his cryptic response.

"Really don't," She spat in return, her voice a mixture of slight distress, fear, anxiety and anger. "And now's really about the worst time you could have possibly picked to be a royal pain in my ass. So congratulations, since I'm sure that's probably exactly what you wanted." Her tone was low and harsh as her eyes shifted nervously about the seemingly empty graveyard, fog slowly seeping in and hovering above the hollowed ground ominously.

Moving to walk away, Buffy was forced to a halt as Spike stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Get out of my way," She ordered, her tone deadly, and again he shook his head.

"Don't think so, slayer," He added with a smirk.

Shrugging, Buffy let loose with another powerful punch, smashing her fist into his nose. But this time, he returned fire. Absorbing the initial shock of the blow, he caught her in the chin with a sharp right hook, causing her to curse loudly. Placing his body in front of hers to block her path once again, Spike's face morphed into the contorted features of a vampire, showcasing the anger he was desperately trying to keep in check. Buffy gaped at him, her mouth falling open in disbelief before she collected herself and spoke again.

"I'll say it one more time. Move, or I swear to God I'll turn your ass to dust."

Again, Spike shook his head. "I said, I'm not going anywhere. Not until I get what I came for." His teeth were clenched as he spoke, amber eyes boring holes into hers.

Crossing her arms tightly over her chest, she knitted her brows together in mixed confusion and annoyance, though her curiosity got the better of her. "And that is?..."

"My ring."

Taking a quick peek and noticing that the Gem of Amara was indeed absent from his finger, Buffy's eyes widened slightly. This could definitely work to her benefit.

Snorting, she unfolded her arms and raised her stake again as a warning, stepping closer to him. "I mean it, Spike. I'll do it." She licked her lips, ready to bolt if necessary. "I don't have time for this."

"'M not leaving until I have that ring on my bloody finger!" He snarled, pacing the sodden ground and slowly drawing closer to her. "I need that gem..."

"And why should I care?" Her hold never loosening on her stake, she continued speaking. "You used it to threaten me..." Hearing him emit a low growl, she shook her head. "I didn't take it," She repeated solemnly, "But I wish I had. And you know what? For whoever did take it, I say more power to 'em. Rather them than you."

Tilting his head, Spike narrowed his eyes, the deep ridges above his brow twitching as he tried to mask his emotions. "You wouldn't be saying that if it fell into the wrong hands."

Letting out a huff of disbelief, Buffy's eyes widened under arched brows. "As if yours weren't wrong enough?!"

Chuckling, Spike stopped circling her, taking one large step closer. "Oh pet, you have no idea." His husky voice sent tingles skittering down her spine, the hair on the nape of her neck standing on end at his chilling words.

Hearing a soft noise, Buffy paused. Looking over Spike's shoulder, she noticed a rustling in the bushes lining the fence near the end of the cemetery, reminding her of the council's presence, and the fact that they were probably expecting her to have already successfully dusted Spike by now. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the headache from the previous night returning full force as the stake wavered slightly in her hand.

Opening her eyes again, Buffy felt a sudden inexplicable compulsion to give Spike one last warning.

'You already gave him more than enough warnings. He's an evil, stubborn bleached bastard, just do it before the council railroads your ass...'

But as she stood before him with weapon clutched tightly in hand, she found she couldn't help but give him another chance to run, before she was forced to attack. Though a part of her knew it was already a lost cause.

Buffy's lips parted and she spoke in a low, venomous tone. "I don't have your precious ring, ok?"

"Right, and I'm sure you've got no idea where it is, either." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"No, I don't," she stated firmly. When Spike shot her another look laden with accusation, she rolled her eyes and huffed.

"Alright, fine. It's with Colonel Mustard in the library. Happy now?"

When Spike still refrained from either answering or moving, Buffy lifted the stake in the air one last time, arm bent at the elbow.

"Get out of my sight, Spike." But once again, he stubbornly refused.

It was the last straw.

Without warning, she plunged the stake into his chest as far as it would go, and Spike hissed loudly. As the wooden weapon sank directly into his most vital organ, Spike knew that was it, knew he was dust...

Only, he wasn't.

Letting out a groan of pain as Buffy yanked the stake from where it had embedded in his flesh, he looked at her with mixed fury and disbelief, realizing she'd missed the heart... On purpose?

Their eyes met, and she glowered at him, slowly lowering the bloodied stake.

"Now get the fuck out of here."

"No, Spike, I think you should stay."

Both their heads snapped in the direction of the cold and unexpected voice, and Buffy immediately grimaced. It was Quentin, coming to tell her she'd failed the test miserably. She knew it.

"I suppose two out of three will have to suffice for now," He stated dryly, referring to the fact that she'd dusted two vampires, but had failed to do the same to Spike.

Turning his attention to the bleached vampire, Quentin lifted an eyebrow.

"What are you looking at?" Spike huffed.

"Ah, yes, William the Bloody," Quentin observed insightfully, as thought he'd only just realized this little factotum.

"And what of it?" Spike demanded, his voice chock full of indignation. "I held up my end of the bargain."

Quentin rested a hand on a nearby headstone, running his fingers over the cold surface as he spoke, never taking his eyes off Spike. Buffy knew the shrewd little man had something up his sleeve.

"Well you see, Spike, the deal was that you'd leave the country once you had completed your task. Now, however, you're interfering with the slayer's duties when you were supposed to have made yourself scarce."

Spike's jaw clenched. He wasn't in the mood for any of this bullshit.

"Yeah, and what are you going to do about it, gramps?"

Instead of responding, Quentin fixed his gaze on Buffy, turning his attention back to her.

"Miss Summers, I am afraid that you still have a long way to go with your training, and it seems your lessons are in need of some fine tuning... However, I feel I have found a fitting solution to the problem..." Making sure he had her attention, Quentin continued. "From now on, Spike will train you in combat."

Two sets of eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, jaws dropping as simultaneous cries of "WHAT?!" resounded throughout the graveyard.

Acting as though there hadn't even been a reaction to his ridiculous proposition, Quentin pushed on.

"Who better to train an amateur slayer than a vampire that has killed two of them? He knows all the skills you need."

Buffy sputtered, her face beet red as she stepped foward, unable to contain herself anymore. "You, you're just doing this to punish me, because you hate me!" She accused. "He's dangerous. You're setting me up with a vampire, a killer! Who's supposed to, what, train me, throw me a bone whenever I do something good?!" Spike couldn't help but snigger in spite of himself at the underlying innuendo hidden in her words.

'Oh I'll throw you a bone, slayer...'

His thoughts suddenly turned naughty as he continued to silently witness her outburst. "He's evil, how do you know he won't try to kill me?!"

"Oh, he won't kill you," Quentin stated flatly. Spike lifted a brow at that, instantly snapping to attention and momentarily taken aback.

"And what makes you so sure of that, mate?" The old bastard couldn't know the truth of his feelings, could he? It couldn't be that obvious...

"Well, it seems you two have some sort of understanding. After all, you didn't kill each other when you had the chance, unless my eyes were deceiving me."

Quentin pulled his lips into a false smile, blinking several times as he spoke. "Furthermore, I know what Spike's after."

Suddenly very interested, Spike cocked his head to one side. "Do you, now?"

Quentin nodded. "Indeed. Your ring..."

Rolling his eyes, Spike pursed his lips, running a hand through his disheveled platinum strands. "Yeah, you probably just overheard our little conversation. A five year old could figure as much."

Quentin lifted a hand to stroke the nearly white hair that covered his chin.

"What if I told you I know where it is, and that I will reveal its whereabouts to you once your lessons have been completed."

Spike gazed at him with growing curiosity, allowing his human guise to slide back into place as he stood rooted to the spot.

"How do I know you're not bluffing?"

Pursing his lips tightly beneath a gray mustache, Quentin forced his shoulders into a slight shrug.

"I guess you'll just have to take my word, Spike."

He snorted in response.

"Like hell."

"Very well." Quentin sighed. "However, there are five men in the bushes armed with loaded crossbows that may be a bit more persuasive."

Spike puffed out his chest. "That a threat?" He loomed several inches over the little old man, trying to look as menacing as possible.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is." His voice was cold and calm, his voice unwavering, and Spike snapped his mouth shut, glowering at Quentin. Both him and Buffy glared daggers at the old man, wanting nothing more than to tear him to shreds.

"You've got balls, Travers," Spike muttered under his breath.

'Suppose things could be worse,' He reasoned.

Whether or not Quentin was bluffing, Spike didn't feel the need to argue any further, and not merely because of the men currently surrounding him with pointy wooden weapons. It was also due to the fact that these lessons would give him a legitimate excuse to be near Buffy.

He licked his lips as he thought of sparring with her, annoying the living hell out of her, enjoying how sexy she looked when her face flushed with anger. He'd have fun playing with her, all right.

"Now Buffy," Quentin's voice cut into his thoughts. "I'm afraid your training schedule will become far more rigorous, as from this moment on you will be taking two different sets of lessons, from both Rupert and Spike. Time is precious, as so much has already been wasted on your account, and we haven't got any more to throw away. There is evil that must be dealt with."

'Including you', Buffy thought bitterly.

"New threats are quickly arising, and you need to be fully prepared to fight it as soon as possible." Not elaborating further on the subject, Quentin signaled to the other members of the council who had now emerged from their hiding places, coming into full view. Buffy noted with irritation that a couple of them held clipboards in their hands, scribbling furiously and not even sparing her a second glance. Quentin leading the way, they slowly disappeared into the fog, leaving the vampire and the slayer alone in the cemetery.

---

A/N: Hmmm, so Quentin claims to know about the gem, but there is still the question of whether or not he's bluffing... Any guesses? :D
Anyway, again, thanks so much for all your reviews! They make me happy :-) Thanks especially to avihenda, spikestheman, Michele, Lolita, and Anon.