Forget and Smile – Chapter Eleven

Additional disclaimer on this fic: I wanted this story to end a certain way. My habit is to write the ending first, so I knew what had to happen. As I wrote, I realized it felt a bit of a cheat. But I still wanted that ending. So I went back to put in some foreshadowing for a sequel. As I’m editing, I realize the foreshadowing got a bit strong, which makes sense because I’ve already written some of the damn sequel. So there will be a conclusion by the end of tonight, but it’s going to be clear the story isn’t over. This is always fine with me, because that’s the way life is, but I felt I should add a warning that it will be a fairly open ending. 

Buffy was heading down the hall towards Spike’s office, glad she had the last period of the day free to work on tomorrow’s lecture about Polgara demons, when she noticed an unusual noise coming out of the room where Ms. Brice taught Introduction to Magic class. Laughter.

Laughter wasn’t unheard of at Boudicca Academy, even during school hours. But Buffy had never heard snickering punctuated by a few belly-laughs from that particular class before. She peeked through the open door.

Ms. Brice was standing behind a podium, waving a talisman in the air, and calling out “Finis!” at intervals in a tone approaching desperation.

The students were all clustered together, instead of spread throughout the room into their usual cliques. Buffy found their solidarity as suspicious as their faces, which reflected joy and guilt.

“Anything wrong?” she asked the teacher.

“That song keeps playing from different parts of the room! I tried to locate the source, but it’s not magical and I when I order it to stop it just moves and starts up again. It’s as if it’s taking orders from somewhere else.” Ms. Brice looked ready to cry.

Buffy looked around the classroom. A dozen much-too-innocent faces stared back at her. “Out,” she said. They rushed to comply, their expressions showing that however much fun teasing Ms. Brice might be, they didn’t want to tangle with Ms. Summers. A murmur of conversation started the moment they were outside the door, however, and about ten seconds later a tune began to play from somewhere just above the teacher’s podium.

Buffy remembered the words that went with that tune. “Ding, dong, the witch is dead, the witch is dead…” Uh, oh. Some student is making a statement. A statement from on high.

She looked up. The ceiling consisted of rectangular acoustic panels set in thin supports. She cleared a spot on Ms. Brice’s desk, set a chair on top of it, and climbed up carefully to push one of the panels aside and peer into the darkness above.

“What are you doing?” Ms. Brice squeaked. “You’ll fall.”

“If you’re worried I’ll land on you, wait outside.” Buffy found a beam to support her weight and pulled herself up. Whatever was cruising around up there must be very light or it would have taken down the whole ceiling. Fortunately, she had some experience crawling around areas like this. When had that been? Oh, yeah, the time some idiot vampire had decided to attack Sunnydale High during Parent-Teacher night.

She clutched the beam for a moment, dizzied by the memory rather than her situation. Her senses focused back on the present as she heard a whirring noise and something moved away from her towards the windows. It sounded mechanical. A few seconds later, the music began playing again from that direction. She couldn’t see what the source was, but the sound it made when it moved was familiar. She crouched and waited.

Soon there was another whirring sound, followed by a small thud. Something had bumped into the heating vent a few feet to Buffy’s left. Her arm flew out before it could move again. “Gotcha!”

She heard footsteps below and Spike’s voice called, “What’s up?”

“Me,” Buffy sang out, sticking her head back through the opening and tossing down her prize. “Catch!”

He stared at the remote-controlled jeep in his hands and tossed it to Katie, who was standing next to him. Then he reached up.

I really don’t need help getting down, but this is a classic opportunity. How can I resist? Buffy slid into his arms.

He didn’t set her down as quickly as she’d feared or as slowly as she’d hoped, but she was glad she had an excuse for her flushed skin when she saw Katie’s interested stare. Buffy cleared her throat. “That’s the culprit, Ms. Brice.”

The other woman just blinked. “But it’s a toy car.”

Katie was tugging at something that had been jammed in the back seat of the tiny jeep. “And a cell phone.” The music started up again. She immediately hit the receive button and said, “Hello? Is this Dorothy? May I speak to Toto?” She snickered and added, “They hung up.”

“And I’m sure they won’t call again.” Spike grinned. “Horrible little bitches. I wonder where they got the phone?”

“It’s mine!” cried Ms. Brice, snatching it. “Who stole it?”

“Someone who figured out it was the best way not to have it traced back to her,” said Buffy. As an authority figure, she was annoyed at the way the kids were acting. As a slayer, she appreciated that there was at least one resourceful mind in the freshman class. And as someone who disliked Ms. Brice… She watched as the teacher stormed off, probably to complain to Willow.

I’m going to find out who the ringleaders were and punish them appropriately, maybe by making them put that ingenuity to work on a more realistic battle plan. But I’m not going to turn their names in to Ms. Brice. She’ll take it out on them and their grades, when it was a pretty harmless prank. Well, harmless except for the cruelty in their song choice, but I suspect they’re pretty clueless about that. They won’t be when I’m done with them. She saw Spike was staring at her. “What?”

“I was going to say I’d look into this,” he said. “But something tells me I can safely back away and let someone else handle it.” He was grinning now. “Miss America’s turning into a real teacher after all.”

“She’s not going to last,” said Katie to herself, looking at the chair still poised on top of the desk and the mess of Ms. Brice’s papers underneath them. “Willow better start advertising for a new magic instructor for next year.” She picked up the toy jeep and wondered if she could consider it a keeper and herself the finder.

As she considered the questions of jeep ownership and the short shelf life of so many of the teachers at the Boudicca Academy, Katie heard Spike say, “Come on, Miss America, you’ve earned a mocha. With whipped cream. My treat.”

She stepped out into the hallway, watching as Spike walked away with Ms. Summers beside him. She waited for him to realize he hadn’t included her in the invitation.

A week earlier, she would have run after them, calling “Me too!” In fact, she had done that one day when Ms. Summers had given Spike a weird look and asked if she could buy him a cup of coffee. But something held Katie back now. Maybe it was the way Spike’s head was tilted to catch something Ms. Summers had said, or the way Ms. Summers laughed when he replied. But those things couldn’t really matter. Katie could wait, and she still wouldn’t be left behind. Because Spike would never forget her.

Any second now, he’ll turn and call, “Kitten!” and then I’ll be the one walking next to him while Ms. Summers follows behind.

Any second now…

Chapter Twelve

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/232484.html