Forget and Smile – Chapter 10

Posting may slow a bit. Dinner time approacheth.

Forget and Smile

Chapter 10

Buffy had never understood just how much work was involved in teaching a class where students sat at their desks and were expected to hand in homework and take tests. No wonder so many of her high school teachers had sucked at it. The Martial Arts classes left her tired and sometimes even sore, but Demonology involved preparing lectures, assigning readings and homework, trying to get students to discuss the readings, grading homework and chasing after the girls who didn’t hand it in, and giving and grading tests. It all took an amazing amount of time, and she found herself spending evenings sitting at Willow’s kitchen table, papers spread out in front of her, and, oddly, not bored.

Spike had assembled readings culled from many of the old books Giles had fortunately scanned electronically before the destruction of the Watcher’s Council and Sunnydale. He’d added a lot of information too, and she recognized expanded versions of stories he’d referred to when he was a vampire. She wondered how he managed to rationalize having all this knowledge with his complete lack of any memories of his own past.

But as she worked, she found herself adding her own notes and even writing up descriptions of some of the demons she’d fought and how she’d beaten them, as well as how to recognize some of the harmless and even helpful species. She was surprised to realize how much she knew, things she hadn’t properly debriefed to Giles about because he didn’t have time to make notes about her every movement any more.

Maybe there is a use for old slayers. Now that Buffy occasionally let the possibility of living well into middle age to cross her mind, she realized she was going to slow down eventually. The realization was confirmed by some the slayers she was training now. Several of them were nearly as strong as she was, and they were getting more powerful.

Face it, girl. The days when you knew you could kick the ass of any of the others are going to end, if they haven’t already. Maybe that suspicion you had that Katya was holding back when you sparred her in London was right. Maybe she and some of the others just don’t want to hurt your feelings.

For the past couple of years she hadn’t known whether she hoped or feared that others would step forward to fight the most dangerous battles. Because if she wasn’t on the front lines, what was she? She wasn’t about to be the kind of general who sent troops in while she held back. She’d have to become something new, and she wasn’t sure she had the resources to do that.

But when she stood in front of her Demonology class, warning them about the eating habits of a Lurconis demon, or explaining why werewolves should be helped instead of harmed and how some of them had managed to control the change, she felt resourceful. Especially when she realized a few of them were actually listening.

She also found that Iowa wasn’t quite as boring as she’d expected. She hadn’t been there two weeks when Willow asked if Buffy had time to help with some “crop circle crap.” In addition to squashed corn, the crap had included some animated and homicidal scarecrows, and by the time she’d helped Willow and Spike sort it all out, she’d chased down a sinister farmer who’d been making his own straw-stuffed army with the apparent intention of creating an evil empire on the prairie. The farmer had run into one of his own minion’s machetes, and the scarecrows had been reduced to something that wouldn’t spook a sparrow. And she’d had her first close-up encounter with a llama.

“I thought it was a demon at first,” she complained, pulling hay out of her hair. “Ick. What the hell is a herd of llamas doing in Iowa? I know I slept through a lot of high school, but I’m pretty sure they belong further south. Or on Michael Jackson’s estate.”

“Some people here raise them for their wool. And lots keep them as pets,” said Spike, adding when she stared at him incredulously, “Well, lots in Iowa numbers. A few anyway.”

“But they spit,” said Buffy. “That one did, anyway.”

“You always like this, Miss America?” He was squatting on the floor of the recently deceased farmer’s barn, disemboweling one of the scarecrows so that it couldn’t reanimate, but he stopped to stare at her in amusement.

“Like what?” She stopped trying to brush mud off her slacks and kicked at the remains of another scarecrow.

“Cool as a cucumber when faced with an army of zombified dolls carrying machetes, but having a hissy fit because an overgrown sheep got a bit too friendly.”

“I’m not!” she protested, in a tone that she realized belatedly was much like the one her students used when she called them on laziness when sparring.

“Yes, you are.” Willow finished mixing some herbs in a bucket and set them on fire to purify the barn. “You always complained about how hard it was to keep a manicure in good condition when you had to stake vampires every night.” She waved around some smoke that smelled considerably better than the rest of the barn’s contents. “I always thought it was kind of cute.”

Before Buffy could complain, Spike said, “Yeah, now that you mention it, witch, it kind of is.”

He thinks I’m cute!

Buffy shut her mouth with a snap and knelt down to help him with the scarecrows, knowing she’d spend the rest of the evening trying to convince herself it was pathetic get an thrill out such a meager compliment.

It was even less thrilling when he developed a habit of coming up behind her and singing softly, “Here’s a llama, there’s a llama…” when she least expected it. But it was a timely reminder that whatever else Spike was, he was definitely a guy.

ETA: For those who have never experienced it: The Llama Song. And for DW fans, The Dalek Song (Spoilers for the Christopher Eccleston season)

Chapter Eleven

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/232214.html