The Side-Effects Of Living On The Hellmouth

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Title: THE SIDE-EFFECTS OF LIVING ON THE HELLMOUTH
Author: moscow_watcher
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Alternate season 2. To control the Hellmouth Mayor gives Spike The Gem of Amarah and sends him to work undercover in Sunnydale High as an English teacher. Hijinks ensue.
Author’s notes: thanks to my wonderful beta reddygirl. You rock, Reddy!

“He is evil!” Buffy whispered, glancing suspiciously at their new English teacher. “Just look at his cheekbones. I have big butterflies in my stomach when I look at his cheekbones. And his eyes? It’s criminally wrong – to teach English literature with such piercing blue eyes!”

“Definitely a hottie.” Willow sighed. “When I look at him, I want to… to study Shakespeare for the rest of my life…”

Xander snorted.

“Mister William Pratt once visited The Virgin Islands,” he recitated in tragic whisper. “Afterward, they were renamed The Islands”.

Somehow Willow managed to keep a straight face, but Buffy lost it completely. Her hysterical laughter shook the classroom.

“Got something you want to share with the rest of the class, Summers?”

The new teacher didn’t look angry or annoyed. His smirk was rather flirtatious. Then again, everything he did looked like flirting.

Unable to stop swooning, Buffy dumbly shook her head.

“So, you think I’m evil,” he continued with obvious satisfaction. “My cheekbones awaken sinful thoughts in that cute brain of yours.”

“They so are not!” Buffy exclaimed. “And – how dare you to eavesdrop… I mean – human ears can’t…”

She realised that she was babbling and shut up. Their new English teacher smiled maliciously.

“Good hearing is a teacher’s friend. Thanks to it I know that Rosenberg is already attuned to Shakespeare. Harris is likely to appreciate Bard’ comedies rather than tragedies, given his peculiar sense of humor…”

Xander looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

“… but what about you, Summers?”

The bell saved Buffy from further embarassment.

***

Spike landed on a bench in the sunny school yard and noticed Principal Snyder’s approaching him. He lit a cigarette and smiled. It’s gonna be fun.

“We don’t encourage smoking here”.

Principal Snyder looked scornfully at his new teacher and waved his hand in front of his face chasing away the smoke. Spike smirked and blew another cloud straight in his face.

“It’s unacceptable!” Snyder screeched. ” You… you set a dangerous example for the teenagers!”

Spike decided not to reveal that the teenagers in question – Buffy, Willow and Xander – were sitting nearby. Thick bushes hid their bench from sight, but he could smell their excitement, curiosity and a lot of other emotions.

Principal Snyder, fuming, plopped on the bench and proceeded.

“The thing about teenagers? They start smoking and eventually they burn the school.”

“That so?”
“That Buffy Summers – have you already met her? – she has already burned one school in Los Angeles.”

“She has? No wonder I liked her from the first sight”.

Snyder’s jaw dropped.

“Mister Pratt”, he hissed, “This is not orderly. I know you have connections up there, but I don’t care that you’re Mayor’s protege! You’re on my campus, and you have to comply to my rules.”

“Or what?”

Spike was still sprawling on the bench, enjoying the sun and Snyder’s helpless fury.

“That Summers girl burns my school you’re responsible for the disaster!”

“OK, send me the bill”.

Spike caught a familiar giggle from behind the bushes and felt an unexplainable thrill.

On another bench, Buffy flushed and silently elbowed Xander, who was playing a pantomime of a besotted Mr. Pratt giving his heart to Buffy. She felt embarassed and flattered.

***

“Principal Snyder is very unhappy with you.”

Spike grinned and nodded.

“I’m unhappy with you too.” Mayor Richard Wilkins wiped his hands with Cleenex. There was something about this vampire that made him nervous and sweaty. Maybe he should find somebody else to guard the Hellmouth.

“I gave you the gem of Amarah on a condition of prudence and discretion and you…”

“Oh, come on! That stupid wanker Snyder gets on my nerves. Here’s an idea: I eat him, you promote me to the School Principal and everybody’s happy”.

“Here’s another idea. I recall the gem of Amarah back – you know I can do it – and you bite the dust. I’m serious, Spike. I need a trustworthy person to keep an eye on the Hellmouth”.

“Relax, Wilkins. I have everything under control. I don’t like to brag… Oh, who am I kidding, I love to brag! I dusted that little pest, The Annoying One. I dispersed his gang. The Hellmouth is all mine… I mean – yours”.

Mayor Wilkins frowned.

“Tomorrow is Halloween. My sources report that a team from a secret government agency will be scouting the demonic activity on the Hellmouth. It’s called The Initiative and it’s bad news. We should avoid their attention at any cost. I don’t need government agents at my Ascention.”

Spike sighed. Why were all authority figures so bloody stupid? Does the Mayor know anything at all about demon traditions?

“Demons take a night off at Halloween,” he explained patiently. “You have nothing to worry about. If worst comes to worst, there is a Slayer to take care of it. She’s quite a thing, if you ask me”.

Mayor gave him a sour glance.

“Remember, Spike – these Initiative guys get something to report, you lose the gem of Amarah forever.”

***

“What the bleeding hell is happening?”

Spike was staring helplessly at the packs of small demons roaming the streets of Sunnydale.

“Hey, stop it! Guys, you’re… you’re good demons! On a mission of redemption! You have to fight a big nasty demon called Principal Snyder – you’ll find him at school!”

“Sir?”

At first he thought he was hallucinating. The Slayer who was supposed to take care of the demons, was trembling and crying. Not to mention that she was sporting a very un-slayer-like frilly dress and awful black wig.

“Summers?”

“Oh, kind sir, please, protect me from these monsters! I’m scared!”

Spike felt a sudden pang when he noticed that she was crying. What the hell is happening to him? Must be the damn spell that turned the whole sodding town upside down.

He awkwardly patted her shoulder, then wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Don’t worry, pet, everything will be OK.”

She shrieked and pointed at something behind him. He turned around just in time to counter Angel’s crushing blow.

“Leave her alone, Spike!”

“No, please, no!”

The girl was looking in horror at Angel. Obviously he was just a monster to her. A monster with yellow eyes and enormous fangs. A monster attacking the genleman who was nice to her and who was now bravely defending her life and honor.

Parrying Angel’s blows Spike caught the girl’s admiring gaze and felt a surge of unexplainable pride and enjoyment. He has never felt so elated in his unlife.

“You’re a very bad man”, he sneered, trading kicks and punches with Angel. “You encroach on the honor of this young innocent maiden! But you’ll get her only over my dead body!”

“Your body is dead, Spike,” Angel growled. “It’s dead for 120 years! It’s time to dust it!”

Buffy screamed when the yellow-eyed monster plunged a sharp stick into the nice gentleman’s chest. Then she gasped when the nice gentleman has offhandedly pulled the stick out of his chest and smirked.

“Damn, Peaches, that was my favorite t-shirt!”

And then, suddenly, it was over. She was Buffy Summers, The Slayer again.

“Angel, what are you doing?” she exclaimed. “It’s our English teacher, Mr. Pratt!”

The man in question made a mocking bow and disappeared in darkness.

***

The next day after Halloween Giles called a Scoobie meeting. Buffy was fidgety, the Scoobies were confused and curious and Angel was fuming.

“He’s the worst monster you ever faced. Once he starts something he doesn’t stop, until everything in his path is dead. Stay away from him.”

“How exactly am I supposed to do it? I can’t skip all my English classes!”

Giles stopped polishing his glasses for a moment.

“Angel, you insist Mr. Pratt is a vampire”.

Angel was pacing the library nervously.

“I met him 120 years ago. His real name is Spike. I don’t know how the bastard manages to walk at direct sunlight and why the stake didn’t dust him…”

Giles dropped his glasses.

“Oh my God! You mean he’s William the Bloody? The slayer of slayers?”

Angel nodded.

“He’s the most vicious and dangerous creature of the underworld.”

Xander snorted.

“Are we talking about the same guy?”

“Mr. Pratt looks pretty nice to me”, Willow murmured.

“You mean he’s totally gorgeous but are afraid to say it loud.” Cordelia declared. “I agree, by the way. He’s the best thing that has ever happened to Sunnydale High since… since, well, me. Hopefully he won’t be scared away by the loserdom this place oozes with”.

Cordelia smiled as a thought occurred to her. “I’ll take care of that,” she promised.

Buffy glared.

“Haven’t you heard what Angel said? He’s dangerous!”

Cordelia snickered.

“Your concern is very touching, Buffy, but when it comes to dating, I’m the slayer!”

***

Half an hour later Buffy located Mr. Pratt and Cordelia chatting in the school yard. William the Bloody, the slayer of slayers was clearly having a good time – he was shooting flirty glances to Cordelia and laughting as they were discussing Shakespeare’s love sonnets.

Buffy felt cold fury accumulating in the pit of her stomach. Who does Cordelia think she is? It’s so totally disgusting! Just look at the new “it” couple of Sunnydale High, a bloodsucker and a cheerleader!

“Wait here!” she ordered Xander and Willow and rushed to them.

“Cordy, have you forgotten… about *that* thing we planned to do?..” Buffy grabbed her elbow with an iron grip and dragged away from gorgeous Mr. Pratt… er, William the Bloody, the slayer of slayers.

Cordelia unsuccessfully tried to break loose from the slayer’s grip.

“Hey, skeezo, you’re hurting me! Let me go!”

Embarassed, Buffy shot a glance at Mr. Pratt. He was contemplating them with a raised brow, doing that weird tongue thing that made Buffy flush.

“Shut up, Cordy,” she hissed.

“Shut up yourself. Jealous much? First Angel, now Mr. Pratt!”

“Are you nuts?” Buffy whispered fiercely. “He’s a vampire!”

“Angel is a vampire too!”

“Angel has a soul!”

“Mr. Pratt has the ability to walk at sunlight! He can take a girl to the beach! Just imagine him in Speedos!”

Buffy couldn’t help but look in Mr. Pratt’s direction again. By that time they were pretty far away from the evil slayer of slayers, but she knew that he heard all their conversation in all its sordid glory.

Their glances met and she felt a heat wave rising in her body as he winked at her. Damn. Obviously living on the Hellmouth produces weird side-effects on a girl’s physiology.

***

Mr. Pratt smirked.

“Wish I could lecture you colonials about all the great masterpieces of European literature, but we have no time for that. However, today we’re going to talk about the play “The Dog in the Manger” written by the famous Spanish playwright Lope De Vega. In 16-th century…”

Buffy stopped listening to Mr.Pratt’s lecture and concentrated on his mouth. These last few days she couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth. And his pouty lips. And naughty tongue that often made weird, swoon-inducing movements behind his teeth. And his cheekbones. And his eyes. Pity this dumb tweed jacket hides the outlines of his body but he must be pretty muscular and strong…

Buffy sighed. What was up with her? Why can’t she stop thinking about her… mission? Yes, Mission. With the capital “M”. Giles should be proud of her. These days she couldn’t stop thinking about her Mission – namely, Mr. Pratt. So far Giles coudn’t find any explanation neither for his invulnerability nor his teaching job. Maybe he’s another noble vampire fighting the forces of darkness? Angel had also been a bad guy once. Of course, dating a teacher is squicky and dating a vampire teacher is squicky squared… Wait, did she really think about dating him?

Buffy shook her head and tried to focus on the lecture.

“So, the beautiful young countess Diana discovers that her handsome young secretary Teodoro is courting her maid Marcela. Teodoro is a commoner and Diana cannot dishonor her family by marrying him. Yet she cannot bear to let Marcela have him either, so she plays the dog in the manger, to the consternation of Teodoro, and the despair of Marcela.”

Mr. Pratt smiled mischievously and looked Buffy in the eye.

“Discuss”.

Cordelia has immediately raised her hand.

“I think that this girl is the most repugnant and anti-feminist character in the history of literature,” she declared. “Actually, she’s just a vicious bitch full of prejudices. She can’t have a man who doesn’t fit her ridiculous and absurd requirements. Yet that skeezo hurts other, more open-minded people…” Cordelia rubbed her elbow.

Mr. Pratt’s eyes sparkled with glee.

“Summers. Do you think this classic situation is relevant to contemporary relationships?”

Buffy gritted her teeth. Oh, how she wanted to throw him on the ground and punch him in the nose. So much for another noble vampire fighting the forces of darkness. Mr. Pratt, AKA Spike AKA William the Bloody, the slayer of slayers was the embodiment of evil.

***

Buffy had to redefine the definition of evil several days later when the Mayor’s shaman stripped Angel of his soul.

She was patroling Restfield cemetery that evening, and Angel joined her. Buffy waited patiently until he started again to warn her against Spike to ask questions about him. She vaguely felt that her inquiries made Angel unhappy but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to find out as much as possible about that epically evil Mr. Pratt.

“He’s a monster.” Angel wasn’t looking at her and she felt his desperation. “Spike has been turned by Drusilla – a mad psychic vampire who had promised him a glorious future. He killed his mother and became Drusilla’s lover. They were inseparable. Last I heard of them two months ago. The mob was after them in Prague. Drusilla bit the dust. I hoped Spike had shared her fate, that bastard.”

“But why is he fighting bad guys? Not that I care, but I have to know everything about my enemy.”

Angel snorted derisively.

“Don’t delude yourself. He’s not a good man. He’s worse than…”

He shuddered and fell on the ground, gasping.

“Angel!” Buffy rushed to him, scared and confused. “Are you OK?”

“Oh… I’m fine. I think I never felt better”.

Buffy looked at him with suspicion as he stood up. He caught her glance, winked at her and his smile gave her creeps.

“You have the hots for bad boys, don’t you? I could tell it since the night I met you in that alley.”

Buffy frowned. Something had inperceptibly changed in Angel. She couldn’t nail it, but something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Actually, I could smell it. I can smell it now. When you think of Spike, you’re dripping with lust. Any vampire within a mile can smell your craving. Your panties are wet…”

Buffy clocked him. Hard. He laughed, vamped out and pounced on her. She dodged his blow, tripped him up and when he fell, hit him with a headstone.

Then she fled.

She spent the rest of the evening with her friends. Willow offered her a shoulder ty cry on and Xander’s jealous indignation at Angel’s jealousy was a nice distraction. Of course, Buffy didn’t tell them about vampire smelling sense and Slayer’s wet panties, because even without these unimportant details her friends understood perfectly that it was all about Mr. Pratt. They agreed that Angel would wage a fight with their teacher and would get his ass kicked and it was a pity they couldn’t watch their fight.

It was very late when Buffy has finally got home and discovered a crumpled body on her porch.

“Mr. Pratt?”

***

Even beaten up and bruised, he was criminally beautiful. Buffy couldn’t keep her eyes off his six-pack as she was bandaging his ribs in her small kitchen.

“See something you like, Summers?”

Buffy blushed.

“Sorry, pet. Trying to lighten the mood, here. Won’t your mom and sis be upset if they see me in this condition?”

“They’re out of town.” Buffy sighed. “I just can’t believe you haven’t kicked his ass. I thought you were stronger. I mean, I remember your fight on Halloween…”

He grunted painfully.

“It’s the damn trinket. The Gem of Amarah. The Mayor had a power over it. First he gave it to me. Made me, um… the protector of The Hellmouth”.

“I knew it!” Buffy exclaimed. “I knew you’re a good guy!”

“Hey, take that back! I’m evil!”

“Of course you are,” Buffy reassured him. “All teachers are evil by definition. Teachers, librarians, Principals, Mayors… Speaking of Mayor, why did you give your mojo back?”

Mr. Pratt smirked feebly.

“My mojo is all right, thank you very much.” He stroke the bulge in his jeans. Buffy gulped. “And the Gem… Mayor magicked it back. And gave it to Angelus.”

“Angelus?”

“When your precious Poof loses his soul he adds two additional letters to his stupid name. Maybe he thinks it sounds kinda Greek tragedy. He has always been a drama queen.”

“So, Angel – I mean, Angelus – now he will be the protector of The Hellmouth?”

He rolled his eyes like a 12-year old. Obviously, the proximity of Hellmouth produced strange side-effects on evil undead.

“He won’t be the protector of The Hellmouth, pet. He will be your worst nightmare. He will destroy you and then he will destroy the world.”

“Uh-huh. He told me the same about you.”

“Except I’m telling the truth”.

“But the Mayor won’t let him…”

“The Mayor is dead. The bugger took the bite too big to swallow. Angelus killed him as soon as he put the Gem on his finger. That’s why I came to you. I can’t stop him alone. You can’t stop him alone. Maybe together we could figure out something”.

Buffy suppressed a sigh. So this jerk came to her because of the Mission. Damn.

***

…Later she almost convinced herself that it happened accidentally. That it was just a chain of unfortunate events.

She had to stay close to Mr. Pratt in case Angelus attacks them, hadn’t she? So she brought him to her bedroom. She couldn’t put a wounded teacher on the floor – he was all sore and hurt, and besides, he has to be very old – Giles told her that he slayed his first Slayer in 1900 – which, of course, was very bad, but still he was her teacher. Old and wounded. So she put him to her bed.

And she also needed good rest, because The Slayer has to be fit and ready to battle whatever comes next, so it was out of the question that she’d sleep on the floor. And they had to stay close. And – and her bed was wide enough for two persons to sleep there.

And she has *totally* forgotten about vampire sense of smell – really! Besides, what could he smell? She was totally not dripping with lust or whatever Angel – Angelus – has said about her. He was just messing up with her head because she’s so not lusting (what a repulsive word!) after anybody, let alone her English teacher!

Still, a little probing won’t hurt.

“Is it true that vampires can smell human emotions?”

Mr. Pratt, strangely subdued since he found himself in her bed, looked at her with curiosity.

“What do you think, pet?”

Buffy blushed furiously.

“I – I don’t know. I mean, I… I just wanted to ask if you need anything. Are you hungry?”

Mr. Pratt wiggled his brow.
“Oh, yeah. Do you have blood? Preferably human, because I’m sick of pig blood, and beaver blood is hard to find in Sunnydale. Preferably Slayer, because it accelerates healing.”

It was the mocking challenge in his eyes that encouraged Buffy to make up her mind. She needed a strong ally. Her ally needed healing to be strong. It was as easy as that.

She slashed her palm with her scissors and gave it to him. The look of awe on his face baffled her. He licked the cut gingerly and Buffy moaned unvoluntarily as the heat wave rushed through her body.

“I hurt you?”

“No. Yes. No. It’s OK. I’m OK.”

“Sure?”

She nodded and leaned back on the pillows. He licked her palm again, took her thumb into his mouth, and her body soared, and the fire between her legs became unbearable, and she clutched at her clit with her free hand, and he murmured something about passionate little thing, and suddenly his arms and lips were everywhere, and she was flying, higher and higher, into the vortex of rapture and pain.

It felt like dying.

But her first death has been much less pleasant.

***

“Um… Mr. Pratt? Or should I call you William now?”

He kissed her shoulder.

“Spike would be fine”.

“OK, Spike. Care to explain why you didn’t suck me dry?”

“Do I look like an jerk who kills the source of infinite enjoyment?”

He sounded so genuinely surprised that Buffy was embarassed. She had a lot of questions, especially about vampire smelling sense (she was curious if they can guess their poor victims’ secret desires by their smell). But she was afraid to make a fool of herself again, so she decided, instead of questioning, to observe Spike closely. And not allow Cordelia to come near him. Just in case.

Vampire smelling sense proved to be useful in the morning, when Spike unexpectedly showed up at Scooby meeting dedicated to the Angelus problem. Buffy tensed when Spike sauntered into the school library, but he ignored her and addressed directly to Ms. Calendar.

“You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

“Beg pardon?”

“You reek of magic.”

“Mr. Pratt, I don’t understand your, um, recriminations.” Giles started polishing his glasses.

“You also don’t understand the gravity of the situation. If I could smell your witch’s magic vibes, Angelus also could.”

“My witch?” Giles jumped up from his seat, appaled.

Spike demonstratively rubbed his nose, sniffed the air, and – Buffy could swear it! – her Watcher blushed. Spike, unperturbed, turned to Ms. Calendar.

“We have no time for bollocks. You’ll be his first victim, love. Unless we beat him to it.”

“But – how?”

“By restoring his soul.”

Jenny Calendar shook her head.

“I don’t think I could do it. It’s a very dangerous ritual. To perform it, I need a rare artifact, known as the orb of Thessula…”

“I could search it on eBay,” Willow suggested.

“… I need books to find the spell…”

“My library is at your disposal,” Giles said. “Jenny – I mean, Ms. Calendar – um… ”

“I think it’s OK to call me Jenny, Rupert.” She shrugged. “If the situation is so dangerous we have to try”.

“Very well,” Buffy exclaimed. “And me and Mr. Pratt – we’ll, um… check the perimeter.”

She grabbed Spike’s hand, pulled him out of the library and, as soon as they were out of sight, kissed him hungrily.

***

Willow sat in front of the computer, trying not to think about her best friend and their English teacher totally making out behind the bookstalls. It was so breathtakingly naughty that Willow had completely forgotten about Mersenne Codex she was looking for and just stood there, fascinated and aroused. Finally it occurred to her that Mr. Pratt, thanks to his vampire smelling sense, can’t not be aware of her presence. He might even smell her excitement. Mortified, she fled, nearly overturning a bookcase in the process. And here she was, repeating to herself that best friends are supposed to be non-judgemental.

“Will,” Xander nervously looked around as he approached her. “I have a dumb question. Is it possible to ensoul two vampires at once?”

“Two vampires…” Willow’s eyes widened. “You mean Mr. Pratt?”

“Yeah. If you ensoul him, maybe he won’t eat me alive because of the Virgin Islands.”

“Virgin Isl… Oh. Good idea. If I ensoul him, maybe he won’t eat Buffy alive… um, never mind. You’re a genius!”

Xander beamed.

“Just don’t tell Buffy about it,” Willow warned anxiously. “It will be a surprise.”

It turned out that making two souled vamps for the price of one was easier said than done, since the ritual required additional candles, herbs and spells. Time was short, as the location spell indicated that Angelus was approaching the school. But Buffy assured them that she’d stall Angelus as long as they need, and Spike enthusiastically supported her, so Willow and Ms. Calendar decided to risk.

Xander offered patrolling the perimeter together with Buffy and Spike but they refused flatly. For a brief moment he thought he noticed a flash of panic in Buffy’s eyes.

“Relax,” Willow whispered to him. “It’s not about you, I swear.”

Xander frowned.

“Will? You know something I don’t know?”

“I’ll tell you after the ritual.”

***

Angelus sneered.

“Poor little Slayer. You’re always having hots for us, vampires, aren’t you? Do you think that the best method of vampire extermination is screwing us to death?”

“Shut up,” Buffy whispered.

“Don’t listen to the wanker,” Spike murmured. “He just wants to make you mad.”

Angelus laughed, delighted.

“And it works, doesn’t it? Poor Willie! You have always been such a pathetic fool. You were Drusilla’s lapdog for hundred years. She dies and you immediately become Slayer’s pet. As teenagers say today, pussy-whipped much?”

“Shut your gob!” Spike leapt on Angelus, and they rolled on the school corridor, snarling like two enraged dogs. Buffy sighed. Could Willow and Ms. Calendar do their stupid ritual a bit quicker?

Vampires sprang up to their feet again and glared at each other, panting.

“Hey, Slayer, just imagine all the fun we’ll have when Poof gets his bleeding soul back!” Spike’s laugh was dripping with glee. “Bet he’ll be crying, self-flagellating, and, as teenagers say today, guiltapaloozing…”

He gasped and staggered – as did Angelus. Buffy looked at them helplessly as white light from nowhere streamed into their eyes making them scream in agony.

“Um… Did it work?”

Buffy looked at approaching Scoobies, then contemplated prostrate vampires with curiosity.

“I wonder if there is a tried-and-true way to tell souled vampire from soulless one,” she murmured.

“I am… a monster…”

Spike’s body was shaking with sobs.

“I plucked the rose of your virginity… You were a pure effulgent girl, Buffy, and I destroyed your innocence… I’m a bad, bad man…”

“Don’t know about the other vampire, but this one is definitely souled,” Ms. Calendar declared.

Willow grinned and elbowed Xander.

“Virgin Islands, eh?”

Giles stared at them, baffled.

“You don’t want to know,” Xander murmured.

***

The first thing Angel did when he dragged Spike into the library and hurled him into the chair was punching him in the nose.

“That’s for tasting her!”

“Stop it!” Buffy shrieked. She pushed Angel away, plopped on Spike’s lap, hugged him and kissed his tears-stained cheek.

“That’s for tasting me,” she whispered.

Angel snorted contemptuously.

“Congrats. You’ve got yourself a lover who will be your biggest trouble ever.”

“And you know that – how?” Xander inquired.

Much to his surprise, this innocent question embarassed Angel beyond measure. He growled something about age, experience and insight, then hastily turned away from them and approached Willow and Ms. Calendar who were clearing the table of the spell ingredients.

“I owe you,” he said softly. “Thank God you did the spell before I commited something truly horrible. I know I said awful things to Buffy, but that was nothing compared with what I was planning to do…”

“You know how to advertize your merits,” Willow chuckled sympathetically. “Actually, re-ensouling you was his idea.” She nodded at Spike who was still hiding his face on Buffy’s bosom.

Angel’s face darkened.

“I have to thank Willie, then.”

The library went very quiet. Evebody looked at them. Angel approached Spike and Buffy, shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, took an unnesessary breath and clumsily patted Spike’s shoulder.

“You hurt her, I dust you, OK?”

His words hardly sounded as gratitude to human ears, but they produced a magical effect on Spike. He beamed, hugged Buffy tightly and smirked.

“OK, Peaches. And if you like some pretty bird from my English class, I’ll give you a crack at her… Ow!”

Buffy cuffed him on the back of his head.

“Shut up, honey.” And she closed his mouth with a hungry kiss.

But even passionate kissage couldn’t prevent Spike from holding up two fingers at Angel – who rolled his eyes and pointedly ignored him.

***

Buffy couldn’t believe that a person could be so happy on a literature class.

Spike was lecturing on “Gone With the Wind”, and Cordelia was still trying to attract his attention, sitting in a challenging pose and sending him inviting glances. But Buffy knew that Spike was hers. All hers.

Yesterday they had a busy day. They attended the inauguration of the new Mayor, Mr. Clement Wohlwollend-Bendito. Buffy suspected that a person with so many letters in his name was evil by definition, and his looks were hardly reassuring, so she was happy Spike was sporting the Gem of Amarah on his finger again. But it turned out that Spike and the Mayor – Spike called him simply Clem – were bosom buddies. Clem charmed Buffy with a gift – an adorable white fuzzy kitten – and promised that Sunnydale police wouldn’t interfere with any Slayer business and could even provide back-up in serious situations.

Then they saw off Angel who left for Los-Angeles. Of course, he made another attempt to convince Spike to go to LA to help the helpless in a big city. Uh-huh. A city full of skanky hos who have the hots for cool vampires. Fortunately, Giles took Buffy’s side and said that students at Sunnydale High are absolutely helpless in their ignorance of classical literature and they need a lot of help to improve their tastes horribly deformed by awful demonic rituals they call hip-hop. Surprisingly, Giles’ reasons have finally convinced Angel. “Phone me when you get tired of this jerk,” he said to Buffy and left.

Then they went to Bronze where they danced and laughed and everybody looked at her with admiration, even Andrew who, according to Dawn, was totally gay.

Then they returned to his apartment and… and they were very busy the next few hours. Buffy was still a bit sore in some delicate places. But, thankfully, by the evening she will be fit for another session of sparkling, mind-blowing…

…Buffy shook her head and tried to concentrate on the lesson. Spike has already finished his lecture and now he was smiling ironically as Cordelia poured out her indignation at Scarlett O’Hara’s disgusting behavior.

“She was using poor Rhett! He became her slave! That so-called strong woman wasn’t worthy of his little finger!”

Buffy had enough of Cordelia’s show-off. She raised her hand.

“Summers.”

“I think that Scarlett made a lot of bad choices,” Buffy said slowly. “But Rhett was also a moron. I can’t forgive him for rejecting Scarlett when she had finally realised her love for him.”

Spike smiled kindly.

“By that time he was sure she’ll never love him. That’s why he said “no you don’t but thanks for saying it…” He faltered and tensed. Buffy gasped. For a split second the classroom darkened, walls turned into falling rocks and the fire from hell claimed them.

“I mean – ‘Frankly, my dear…” Spike amended hastily, rubbing his right hand nervously.

Buffy scratched her left palm and sighed with relief as distant voices and images in her head faded and disappeared.

Obviously studying literature on the Hellmouth produced weird side-effects.

Fin

 

Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/245546.html

moscow_watcher

moscow_watcher