An answer to Kantayra’s “Practically Perfect in every Way” challenge.
Starts early in 6 x 15 “As You Were”.
For a few minutes Buffy had been able to forget all her cares and lose herself in the sensations, the pleasure of Spike’s admittedly skilful lovemaking, but when it ended she was back in her dreary and depressing world and her troubles were even worse than before. She was still tired, still smelling of grease, there was still the awful prospect of Double Meat surplus dinner for herself and Dawn, and the bag was now somewhat squashed. Plus there were now grass and bark stains on the back of her jacket, and the crotch of her panties was a soggy mess. She pushed Spike away angrily as he tried to kiss her tenderly. He’d just ‘shagged’ her up against a tree, yards from her house; hardly romantic.
“Go away, Spike!” she snapped. “You’ve delayed me enough tonight, and you’ve ruined Dawn’s dinner.”
“Not fair, Slayer,” he protested. “I’m not the one who dropped the bag on the ground.” He sighed. “Look, love, I’ve got enough cash to pay for pizza for you two. Take it and order yourselves something. Not going to let the Bit go hungry if it’s even partly my fault.”
“And I suppose you’ll want to come in and share. Well, not going to happen. I’m not going to take any money from you. I know damn well it’s stolen. Just go away.”
“It’s not stolen!” Spike protested. “I hustled pool for it. Legit.” He saw the disapproving expression on Buffy’s face, and his shoulders slumped. “Look, love, it’s not as if I can get a proper job. No papers, no green card, but I do the best I can. I’m trying to be good for you. Cut me some slack here. I love you. I just want to help.”
“You can’t love. You’re a demon,” Buffy insisted. “Just go away.” She relented slightly as she saw the hurt on his face. “I might see you tomorrow, okay? But go now.”
“Oh, all right,” the vampire acquiesced. “Bye. I love you. Although sometimes I bloody wonder why.” He turned and walked off, head lowered, with no trace of his usual confident swagger.
Buffy watched him go, frowning, and then stooped to retrieve the bag containing her ‘perks’ from the Double Meat Palace. “I wish he’d get over it. It would be so much simpler if he just stopped loving me,” she muttered.
“Wouldn’t it be even simpler if you could just let yourself love him?” a nearby voice asked.
Buffy jumped, and spun round reaching for a stake. She relaxed slightly as she recognized the speaker, but not entirely. Halfrek. The ‘Justice Demon’ who had trapped them all in the house for over a day at her disastrous birthday party. Immune to most weapons, and also a friend of Anya’s, so not stakeable. Although in Buffy’s present mood it wouldn’t take much to cause her to test out those immunities.
“He’s a vampire. I can’t just let myself love him,” the Slayer replied. “What are you doing here, Halfrek? Come to cause me more trouble?”
“Not at all. The opposite, in fact,” Halfrek told her. “And please, call me Hallie. You’re a friend of Anyanka’s, after all, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine. That’s why I’m here. I’ve come to make amends for ruining your party. I’m prepared to grant you a wish.”
“I don’t think so,” Buffy scoffed. “How dumb do you think I am? After the way you played Dawn, and twisted what she said, you think I’m going to fall for that?”
“I’m serious,” Halfrek assured her. “No tricks. I’ll let you have plenty of time to prepare your wish, and I won’t take advantage of any grammatical errors. You’ll get what you want. Suppose I could turn William into someone you could love? He doesn’t have to be a vampire. I owe him one, anyway. It’s partly my fault that he became a vampire in the first place. I could make him human, with a legal identity, green card, whatever. Change him to suit you. Make him whatever you’d want in the perfect boyfriend. Think about it.”
“Right now, all I want to think about is how I can rescue this pathetic excuse for a meal.” Buffy opened the paper bag, and stared gloomily at the mangled sandwiches. “And get rid of this grease smell, and the stains on my clothes. I haven’t got the energy to think about the disaster that passes for my love life.”
“Wish for pizza,” Halfrek urged her. “A little freebie, as a token of good faith. And the cleaning, if you like.”
Buffy frowned, and then decided that it couldn’t do any harm. “Okay, I wish that this bag of Double Meat garbage would be replaced by two boxes of fresh and piping hot pizza, with plenty of cheese; one with spicy chicken and pepperoni topping and the other with whatever is Dawn’s current fave topping. And I wish the stains on my clothes were cleaned up and the grease smell was gone.”
“Wishes granted,” the ‘Justice Demon’ beamed. There was a loud ‘pop’, and Buffy found herself holding two large square cardboard pizza boxes. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now, have a think about what you’d change in William. See you later!” She vanished in a swirl of light.
Buffy was thinking hard as she went into the house. Change Spike? Dare she? Just so that she didn’t have to hide their thing from her friends any more. So she didn’t have to be ashamed of him. If he wasn’t a vampire …
Dawn was at the fridge when she entered the kitchen, gazing disconsolately at the almost empty shelves. “Rough night?” she greeted her sister.
“Not too bad,” Buffy replied. “I brought dinner.”
“Double Meat goodness again?” Dawn asked resignedly, and then her face lit up as Buffy held up the boxes.
“No, I got pizza,” the Slayer announced.
“Yay!” Dawn squealed, pouncing on the pizza boxes like a velociraptor leaping upon an unsuspecting palaeontologist. “You got my favourite topping, too. You’re the best, Buffy.” She scampered to the drawers and hunted out the pizza cutter, but then hesitated uncertainly. “We can afford it, right? I know things have been tight lately.”
“It’s okay, Dawn, I got a freebie. Professional courtesy from somebody in the same line of work,” Buffy assured her, half smiling as she evaded the truth without actually lying. Reassured, Dawn began the dismemberment of the pizzas, and they sat down to the best meal they had had for a while. ‘How have the mighty fallen’, Buffy mused silently, ‘when free pizza is a major highlight of my life. Maybe I should take Halfrek up on that offer and have her make Spike into a chef.’
“Hi, Buffy, Dawn,” Willow smiled at them as she entered. “I smell pizza. Not with the Double Meat lifestyle tonight?”
Buffy repeated her explanation of how she came to have free pizza, and invited Willow to share. There was far more than she and Dawn could eat. In fact there would still be leftovers for the next day even allowing for Willow eating a portion, although she knew that microwaved pizza remnants tended to bear a marked resemblance to shoe leather, at least the way she microwaved them.
“Yummy,” Willow licked her fingers. “Wanna hit the Bronze, Buff? Dawnie and me plan on going. Come with; get the fast food grind outta your system for a while.”
“No, Will, you guys go. I just want to rest. In by eleven, Dawn, you hear?” Buffy wanted to do some careful planning. If she was going to take advantage of Halfrek’s offer, she would have to beware of the catch. There was bound to be a catch.
Spike wandered aimlessly through the streets of Sunnydale. “Lonely as a sodding cloud,” he muttered to himself, “and not a bleeding daffodil in sight. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll find some demon I can kick shit out of. Bit of the old ultra-violence, droog.’ The phrase brought Kubrick’s film of ‘A Clockwork Orange’ to mind, and he began to sing softly to himself. “Freude, schöner Götterfunken, Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuer-trunken, Himmlische, dein Heiligtum,” then broke off from his bitterly sarcastic rendition of the ‘Ode to Joy’ as he heard a distant scream. “Things might be looking up,” he muttered, and headed for the sound at top vampire speed.
A girl, being attacked by vampires. Nothing unusual for Sunnydale; the only thing at all out of the ordinary was that the girl was attempting to defend herself with a wooden stake. Not doing a bad job of it, but there were three attackers and she had only human strength and speed. As Spike sized up the situation one of the vamps knocked the stake from her hand, and another one seized her and lowered its fangs to her throat. Spike rushed forward and thrust a stake through the rear vampire, kicked the next between the legs to immobilize it temporarily, and staked the one who had hold of the girl. He whirled, spin-kicked, and hit the remaining vampire in the back of the neck as it clasped its groin in agony. It stumbled forwards, crashed against a fence, and bounced off right into Spike’s follow-up stake thrust. Three vampires dusted in seven seconds.
“And they think it’s all over. It is now,” the English vampire quoted. He turned to the girl, who was clutching her bleeding neck and staring at him. “You all right, love? Sorry I didn’t get here a bit sooner. Want me to call an ambulance?”
“You – you’re a vampire too,” she breathed. Spike realised that he had gone into game face in his haste to get the job done, and shook it off.
“Yeah. Sorry about that, pet, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m a vampire, but I’m one of the good guys. I don’t bite people any more. A vampire without a soul, on a mission of redemption. Not that it fucking matters. Soulless equals evil, far as some people are concerned anyway. Sorry, I’m rambling. Ambulance, pet? Hospital?”
“No need. It’s hardly more than broke the skin. You saved me. God, you saved my life. Thank you. Which just isn’t nearly enough. I mean, thank you squared. Cubed.” She was dressed entirely in black, with a long fringed skirt, a leather bustier over a black lacy blouse, and had heavy black eye make-up. A silver Celtic cross hung from her neck, and she wore earrings with dangling skeletons.
“Yeah, it’s what I do. Makes a nice change to get some sodding thanks for it. Well, if you’re sure you’re all right, I’ll sweep off majestically into the night and save someone else.” Spike turned on his heel, then reconsidered and turned back to the girl. “Which would be bloody stupid of me, thinking about it. You smell of blood, bound to be other nasties about. I’ll see you home, or wherever else you’re going.”
Buffy opened the door and called out into the night. “Halfrek? Are you there?”
“I told you, call me Hallie,” the Vengeance Demon replied, stepping out from behind a tree. “Are you ready to take me up on my offer?”
“Maybe. Come in and we’ll talk about it.” Buffy ushered Halfrek into the house, and led her to the living room. “I’d offer you a drink, but we’re pretty much out. Coffee?”
“Thank you, that would be nice.” Halfrek took a seat, and waited while Buffy poured out two coffees. “So, what would you like to change about William? Return him to his human self?”
“Not so fast. What’s the guarantee that I would even like his human self? And if I made it so he’d never been a vampire, he’d have been dead like a hundred years anyway, so not much point.” Buffy took a sip of her coffee. “What was he like as a human anyway? You knew him, right?”
“Oh, yes, I knew him. I was already a justice demon, of course, and he didn’t have the slightest idea. He fell in love with me, or thought he did, but it was all part of a wish. He was a dear boy, really, but soft. A wishy-washy failed poet, clinging to his mother’s apron strings. Pathetic, really. She wished that he would get some strength, learn to stand up for himself, not be so vulnerable, get away from her and travel. His becoming a vampire wasn’t quite what she had in mind, of course, and it all ended rather badly, but it fitted everything she wished for. I felt bad about it afterwards, I have to admit, and even D’Hoffryn thought that it was overkill. That’s why I’m willing to do something to put it right, and I promise not to take advantage of any slight slips in your wording. I won’t make him evil or anything like that.”
“He’s already evil,” Buffy pointed out.
“If you say so,” Halfrek replied, giving Buffy an enigmatic glance. “I won’t make him more evil. I won’t do anything that will send him on a killing spree, or make him a threat to your friends or family. I swear it by D’Hoffryn.”
“Still think there’s got to be a catch somewhere. But no risk, no gain. Already spotted one catch. Wishy-washy poet, sweet maybe, but not exactly boyfriend for Slayer material. Any way I could just wish for a little extra money instead? ‘Cause, fast food work is killing me, but I just can’t get the breathing space to look for anything else. I’ve put in to go back to college, but I don’t know if I made the deadline, and if I do get it, then cutting back on my Double Meat hours means we’ll only eat in months when the electric bill’s not due.”
“Sorry, that wouldn’t be relevant to righting the old wrong I did to Spike. Take what I offer or leave it.” Halfrek frowned briefly, and then smiled. “Although, you are a daughter of an inadequate father, and it would be perfectly within my current specific field of operations to get some money for you from him.”
“But not so he suffers in any way at all,” Buffy insisted. “If he’s happy in Spain, then I’m glad for him. He walked out on us, but he’s still my dad. No harm must come to him. No losing his girlfriend, even if she is a skanky ho. No making him short of money to help me. Not even making him trade down his car. Okay?”
“I agree. But only as part of a package deal with the desired improvements to William.” Halfrek paused to take a sip of coffee. “So, back to our main subject. The simplest way of satisfying your requirements, of course, would be to leave him as a vampire, but find him legal gainful employment, and remove this prejudice your friends have against him because of his undead state.”
“You mean tamper with their minds? No way. Had enough of that with what Willow did to us. All the changes have to be to Spike.”
“You find it immoral to tamper with their minds? Would it not, then, be immoral to modify William?”
Buffy shook her head. “They’re human, he’s not. Anything I change in him, gotta be an improvement. I mean, I’m supposed to slay vampires. Him vampire, me Slayer, anything I do to him which isn’t Slaying puts him owing me.” She took another drink, and relaxed slightly. “Although, that’s harsh. Tampering with his mind, not of the good either. Except stopping him being evil, of course, and stopping him being so damn annoying. Okay, I’ve got a little list. If it’s too much, then fine. I’ll live with what I have, or maybe skip an odd thing if you can do most of it but not all.”
“Let’s hear it, then,” Halfrek urged.
“Okay, I want Spike to wake up tomorrow morning human, not a vampire any more, but with all his vampire strength, his fighting skill, fast healing. Like he was a male version of a Slayer. No need to drink blood, able to go out in the sun, reflection, able to father kids, the works. Oh, yeah, able to have sex for five hours straight, just like he can as a vamp. No changes to his sexual attributes. Reflection, yeah, said that, but he’s to see how dumb that bleached slicked-down hair looks and get himself a decent haircut. No smoking. Cut the drinking down to a max of two beers in any one night, and no drinking at all if he’s going to be driving.
“Driving. Right, that beat-up DeSoto, if he even still has it, or that motorbike, is to be replaced by a modern, cool, car. Something that’ll impress people. Maybe something a bit oddball, quirky, but clean and modern and classy.
“Of course that leather coat has to go, and the all black look. Enough of the black nail varnish already. He’s to get some nice clothes. Classy suits, smart shirts, a tie sometimes, T-shirts that aren’t black. Things he could wear to blend in with the crowd at the Bronze, things that would look cool at a smart restaurant, clothes that would look smart for work, clothes that would impress Social Services.
“A job. A legal passport and I.D., a driver’s license, a green card. A nice place to live. Not a crypt, a nice apartment. Somewhere really classy, like that place Glory lived, but not the same one because, hello, lots of bad memories there, for both of us. Plenty of money in a legal bank account, valid credit cards with a good credit limit and a good credit history.
“All of that to be without harming anyone else. Nobody dying and leaving their place to Spike, unless it’s somebody who’s like ninety-five and with terminal cancer and who hates all their relatives anyway, you get? Nobody’s car being taken and given to him, nothing like that. All to come with no strings, no IRS to turn up in a few weeks time and take it all back, nothing like that. No changing history. ‘Cept maybe for a teeny little thing like him maybe buying a lottery ticket a week ago. Nothing big, not even anything medium.
“And he’s to change his attitude. To help people without expecting a reward for it, not just to get in my pants. To help people just ‘cause it’s right. He’s to make an effort to get along with the Scoobies. To stop stealing, and swearing. Unless he like hits his finger with a hammer or something, okay for him to swear then, no need for him to be like a saint, but none of this ‘bollocks’ this and ‘sodding’ that. And the nicknames he uses; well, Dawn’s okay with being called ‘Nibblet’, Willow doesn’t mind ‘Red’, Tara loves him calling her ‘Glinda’ – actually, no problem with the nicknames, ‘cept for him calling Xander ‘whelp’. He’s gotta stop using that one. And stop calling Anya ‘Demon Bird’. He can stop trying to explain the offside rule in soccer, too, ‘cause, not interested.
“And the music. Get up to date. Okay, some of the punk stuff not so bad in moderation, but, like, old, so let him downgrade it a bit. Phase out the Ramones and the Sex Pistols. Bring in Green Day, that sorta thing. New punk, maybe some Nu-Metal that’s not too gross, some of the more mellow stuff that the people who were punks moved on to later, like U2, you know. No Slipknot! Absolutely no Slipknot.
“That’s about it. Did I mention not evil? And no chip in his head, want him to be able to defend himself against humans, but no attacking non-evil people. Okay? Oh, and the bit of money for me from Dad bit, with no bad consequences for him, just so I can go back to college and survive and look after Dawn. Okay, I’m done. Oops. Gotta stop calling himself Spike all the time, he should be William, like you call him, although, don’t mind him getting called ‘Spike’ once in a while, but only with a different explanation to the railroad spikes bit. Okay, done.”
“Wow,” Halfrek breathed, as Buffy finished. “If that’s what you call a little list, I’d hate to hear a big one.”
“Oh, wait a minute,” Buffy added. “Soul. He’s gotta have it, but no major brood fest. Things done are done. A little sadness now and again, maybe, but that’s all. And geography. When I say ‘wake up tomorrow human’ I mean here in Sunnydale, not in like Sydney Australia or whatever.”
“Okay, okay,” the Vengeance Demon raised her hands in surrender. “No tricks, I promise. No attempts to exploit loopholes in what you have said. This wish will be granted in exactly the spirit in which you are making it. I won’t make any changes you haven’t asked for, unless they are correcting minor details you are obviously overlooking, like those horrible boots he wears which just wouldn’t go with a suit at all. I won’t do anything sneaky like making him the age he would be if he had never been turned, which I could do quite easily according to the letter of your requests. He’ll be the exact biological age that he was the moment he was turned in July 1880. He was actually in the early stages of tuberculosis, but I’ll clear that right up. He’ll be in perfect physical health. Absolutely no tricks, no catches, whatsoever with this wish, I swear it. Can you just leave it at that and say ‘I wish it’?”
Spike walked protectively beside the girl he had saved from vampire attack, escorting her towards her destination, the Espresso Pump. “So, what’s your name then, love?” he asked idly.
“Tarantula,” she replied. “What’s yours?”
“Tarantula? That’s not a sodding name,” Spike scoffed. “Although, come to think of it, pot calling kettle black. My name’s Spike.”
She laughed. “My real name’s Tara Anne. What’s your excuse?”
“You wouldn’t want to hear it, pet,” Spike told her. “Not a pretty story behind that nickname. My real name’s William.”
“I prefer Spike,” Tarantula told him. “So, how come you’re a good vampire?”
“Long story, pet, doubt if you’d want to hear it all. Well, we’re here. Will you be able to get home okay? I could come and pick you up later, if you like. Walking round Sunnydale at night with a fresh wound is a bit sodding risky.”
“Why not come in with me?” she suggested, looking at him with obvious admiration. “Coffee? I’ll buy. It’s a literary thing, so maybe not quite your scene, but I think I can keep you from getting bored.”
“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Spike replied automatically. “Although, she’ll never admit to being my bleeding girlfriend, and she beat my teeth down my throat a fortnight ago and never even said she was sorry, and – oh, maybe she’s lost the right to dictate what I sodding well do. Literary thing, eh? What is it, a poetry reading, or a look at Mary bleeding Shelley, or – God help us – that poncy git Dracula? Or Anne ‘vampires are so bloody mysterious and soulful and can’t shag’ Rice?”
“Actually, we’re discussing an author called Tim Powers,” the Goth girl informed him.
Spike cheered up. “Tim Powers? Read a few of his. ‘Dinner at Deviant’s Palace’ is bloody brilliant. And ‘The Anubis Gates’ is absolutely sodding marvellous, so’s that pirate one. Not so keen on ‘Declare’, mind.”
“I think we’re looking mainly at ‘The Stress of Her Regard’ tonight,” she told him. “And there’s a guest speaker who runs one of the Tim Powers fan websites. So, wanna come in?”
“Hell, yes. ‘The Stress of Her Regard’, eh? That’s the one about vampires, innit? I haven’t read that one, ‘cos most things about vamps are sodding bollocks, but I’ll come and have a listen.”
“Okay. Wait, he has to be able to cook.”
“I’m sure he’s watched enough cookery programmes on daytime television for some of it to have stuck, but I’ll make absolutely certain if you insist.” Halfrek appeared to be growing impatient. “Come on, are you going to make this blasted wish or not?”
“Okay. Wait, he’s got to stop watching daytime soaps. Okay, I wish it.”
“Wish Granted,” Halfrek boomed ominously, morphing from her human face into the hideous visage of a Vengeance Demon. She drained the last of her coffee, and then returned to human guise. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but this wish is complicated and will need a few touches of personal attention, so I’ll be off. I’ll no doubt see you at Anyanka’s wedding, if not before.”
“Goodbye, Hallie, and thanks,” Buffy bade her. “Said thanks being conditional on the wish working as advertised, no tricks.”
“Oh, I assure you there were no tricks in that wish whatsoever,” the Vengeance Demon assured her. “William will be human tomorrow before noon, and no sentient beings were harmed during the granting of this wish. Bye!” She stood, twirled dramatically, and vanished.
Buffy gathered up the coffee cups and headed for the sink. Something about what Halfrek had said bothered her slightly. The slight stress on ‘that wish’. Had there been some trick in the previous wish? Surely not. Or nothing big, anyway. How much harm could getting a couple of free pizzas do, anyway?
Spike walked Tarantula home after the literary evening. Smiling, laughing together, and feeling happier than he had done in weeks. Spending time with someone who knew he was a vampire but didn’t keep harping on his evil soulless status was such a pleasant change. Okay, Tarantula was a bit of a poser with overly romantic ideas about vampires, and the make-up was a bit OTT, but she was pleasant, cleverer than she appeared, and she had been practical enough to keep a stake to hand and level-headed enough to make a good attempt at using it. She was quite a pretty girl under that make-up, too.
He’d told her a bit about himself. Explained the chip to her. Straight away she’d spotted that the chip didn’t make him help people, and that he could have forced other vamps to bring him food and get rid of his enemies. He’d been helping the sodding Scooby Gang for bloody months, years, and they hadn’t twigged on to that. Still treated him like shit. Well, except Tara, who’d always been nice to him. Funny, this girl was called Tara too. Just as well she preferred being called Tarantula, or he’d have to call her Tara 2.
“I want to see you again,” she told him when they got to her house. Straight out, no pissing around. He liked that.
“I’m seeing someone, I told you,” he reminded her. “I don’t two-time. But I wouldn’t mind another bit of literary chat or such. Give me your phone number, love. Don’t have a phone, and not safe for you visiting me in my crypt, but I’ll give you a call from a payphone some time. Work something out.”
He patrolled three cemeteries before returning home. Dusted four vampires, saved a pizza delivery boy who fled with the usual Sunnydale lack of gratitude, and killed two of the Sisterhood of Jhe, who were plotting to open the Hellmouth as usual. A normal night’s work. And Buffy didn’t even bloody notice that he was picking up the slack for her, covering for her being tied up working at that stupid fast food place, or for her being too bloody knackered to patrol properly. No point in trying to point it out to her. She’d never give him any credit for it, anyway. If he told her, he was only doing it to keep her sweet so he could keep on shagging her. If he didn’t tell her, she didn’t sodding well ask. Why bother?
Well, for a start, if some stupid bugger opened the Hellmouth it’d mess things up good and proper. If it destroyed the world it wouldn’t matter that Man U were still in with a good shot at the Champions’ League title, and that Alex Ferguson was letting Ole Gunnar Solskjaer have a place in the starting line-up for a change. Even if it didn’t destroy the world, it’d probably screw California up badly enough that he wouldn’t get any decent telly watching time. And, on a less apocalyptic level, he’d been reminded tonight that some humans were worth saving.
Spike made his way back to his crypt and settled down in the upstairs section. He preferred the bed downstairs, but at the moment it was surrounded by demon eggs and, frankly, they gave him the creeps. He should never have agreed to let that bugger store them there, he knew, but he’d needed the money. Five hundred dollars would keep him in blood and fags for a while. Worth putting up with a bit of inconvenience for a few days. Might even manage to slip a few bucks to the Nibblet. Buffy might be too bloody proud to take anything from him, but his Little Bit didn’t have such stupid scruples. Shame Buffy was trying to keep him and Nibblet apart. Bitch.
After a cigarette, a packet of blood, and a late night movie on his old TV, Spike lay down on his sarcophagus and prepared for sleep. His quick shag with Buffy earlier had been nothing like enough to satisfy him, so he engaged in some solo activities. He found himself thinking of Tarantula as he did so; her, and Willow, and Tara. Not about Buffy at all. ‘Maybe I’m getting over the bitch at last’, he thought, smiling to himself as he drifted off into sleep.
Buffy woke the following morning feeling refreshed. She’d slept better than she had in a long time. She showered, dressed, and went downstairs just in time to hear the garbage truck coming along the street. She’d forgotten all about trash day, and had to hurry to get the trash together and get out, but was just able to catch it in time.
She emptied the mail box and returned to the house, sorting through the mail as she went. One envelope caught her eye immediately; an air mail letter, with a Spanish stamp. ‘From Dad’, she thought, and began to open it, only to lose her nerve and put it aside. Instead she selected a local letter with the UC Sunnydale logo. She entered the kitchen, where Dawn was packing her school bag, and opened the letter.
‘Dear Ms. Summers
Your application for re-admittance to UCSD was not received prior to our deadline of January 15, 2002, and therefore we were unable to comply with your requirements.’
“So, not going back to college then,” she muttered to herself sadly, but then her eyebrows shot upwards as she read on.
‘Consequently we must insist on adherence to the form submitted on your behalf by your father Mr. H. Summers, as that has already been processed. If attendance at the specified classes is not possible then you will lose credits and your place at UCSD may have to be reconsidered. Re-negotiation of these terms will not be possible until after the end of the semester.
The required classes and timetables are shown on the attached schedule.
Surrinder Blackmaster
Assistant to the Dean’
“What?” Buffy screeched. She scanned the schedule frantically. “What the Hell?”
“What’s the matter, Buffy?” Dawn asked, worriedly, freezing with a book halfway into her bag.
“I’m going back to college,” Buffy explained. “But like nearly full-time. How are we gonna cope? I didn’t want this. Dad’s been meddling.” She selected the letter from Spain and ripped open the envelope. She pulled out the contents, and something fluttered free. Dawn snatched it up as Buffy began to read the letter.
“Buffy, look!” Dawn called. “Like, wow!” She handed her sister the piece of paper, and Buffy’s jaw dropped. It was a certified check. Seven thousand three hundred and thirty two dollars, payable to Buffy Anne Summers.
Hastily Buffy scanned the letter. It was indeed from her dad. A long letter. Too long to read now, with Dawn having to set off for school in a couple of minutes, but a few phrases leaped out at her. ‘This should keep you going until Spring Break’. ‘Hope you and Dawn can make it over to see us this summer’. ‘I’ve made the arrangements with the college’.
“So, adios Double Meat Palace, Buffy?” Dawn queried, hopefully.
“Hell, yeah,” Buffy grinned. “So, things looking up for me. Now, hate to do this to you, must be all excited I know, but it’s off to school for you now, missy.”
It wasn’t until long after Dawn had left, so excited that she was almost skipping along the sidewalk, and Buffy had read through the whole of her father’s letter, that she connected it with her request to Halfrek and remembered the wish.
“Spike! Human now! I’ve got to see him. But is he gonna be at the crypt, or at the new place? And I’ve got to get to the Palace, see about putting in my notice. Not just gonna walk out, gotta be responsible, not leave them stuck short of me for a shift, but still, out of there soon as I can. Enough money to get by, Dad says there’ll be more, and Spike’s gonna be human! Wow. This has got to be perfect.”