Spike slouched in his seat, holding the envelope in his hand. The return address told him it was from Sunnydale Community College. More than likely Buffy had received one as well.
It was Fall semester's class schedule.
Spike was very reluctant to open it. He'd let Buffy choose the classes, again. Last time she did that, Spike ended up in tights.
"Oh, bloody hell," he swore, tearing into the envelope. He pulled out the single slip of paper. "Monday-Fencing; Tuesday-Philosophy: Logic; Wednesday-Latin; Thursday-Psychology: Family Living."
Spike leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes in relief. *No tights,* he thought before grimacing at the memory. "Wait a minute," Spike said aloud, raising the schedule so he could read it. "Latin? But I thought..."
"Hey you!" Buffy exclaimed, bouncing into the condo. Spike had given Buffy her own key after the dinner with her mother. He'd woken up several times in the middle of the afternoon to find Buffy snuggled next to him, asleep.
Spike didn't kill anymore, as per the experiment from Winter Term. Instead, he took small amounts from those foolish enough to be out at night.
Sometimes, Spike would follow Buffy on patrol, staying far enough away so she wouldn't sense him. He loved watching her, almost as much as fighting with her himself. It was her light hearted banter with her victims that caused Buffy to be one of the greatest Slayer's in history. That, and the fact that Buffy had a life outside of slaying and a support group of friends to aid her.
"Hello, luv," Spike answered, turning off the TV. Buffy plopped down on the couch next to him.
"Did you get your schedule?" Buffy asked.
"Don't I get a kiss first?" Spike asked, thrusting his lower lip out in an attempt to mimic Buffy's pouting.
"If I have to," Buffy whined. Spike glared at her and she laughed. "Pucker up, big boy."
Several hours and clothes repairs later, Spike answered Buffy's question. "Yes, I got my schedule. But Latin, Pet? I thought you hated languages."
"I do," Buffy replied. "That's why I'm not taking it. I'm taking another art class, instead."
Spike looked surprised, then happy. "Thanks, luv. I really wanted to brush up on my Latin. It beats having to bloody well look everything up in a dictionary. The last time I wanted something translated it came out : ‘Debase, the beef, canoe.’"
Buffy laughed. "When was this?"
"It was when I was trying to heal Drucilla. I already had the Du Lac Cross and just needed the ritual transla..." Spike trailed off at Buffy's painful look. He stood and moved into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Spike paused in what he was doing at her small voice. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know we promised not to bring up...him."
"I have to go," Buffy said, moving to the door.
"Wait, Buffy-" Spike said, turning quickly.
"I'll see you." Buffy opened the door and closed it behind her before Spike could get a word in edge wise.
Spike stood in the same spot for several moments, staring at the door. "Bloody hell!" he erupted, throwing the plate he had taken out across the room. It smashed into pieces as it hit the wall, raining porcelain on everything, including Spike.
Spike tried to call Buffy several times during the next week. He even sought her out when she was on patrol, but to no avail. It was if Buffy had vanished. Spike then knew what he had to do.
He had to grovel.
Spike didn't mind groveling that much. It usually led to very pleasant activities. So, he first sent single roses to Buffy's house, one each hour for a day.
Then, a dozen.
Then a dozen plus a stuffed animal.
Then a dozen, a stuffed animal and balloons.
Then a dozen, a stuffed animal, balloons and candy.
Then a dozen, a stuffed animal, balloons, candy and a singing telegram.
Buffy stormed into Spike's condo, a furious look on her face. "Will you STOP!" she screamed.
"Stop what, luv?" Spike asked innocently from his perch on the kitchen chair. He was changing the ceiling lights.
"Stop sending me stuff! I can't even get into my room anymore! My mom hasn't stopped laughing for three days!"
Spike grinned wickedly down at her. "Oh, really? I wonder why?"
Buffy growled loudly. She marched up to Spike and grabbed his legs, literally throwing him onto her shoulder.
Spike had a great view of Buffy's ass. "Uh, Pet?" Spike said as Buffy walked down the hall towards the bedroom. "Something wrong?"
Buffy's response was to throw him onto the bed, jump on top and kiss him senseless. In fact, she kissed him so senseless, Spike had no feeling in his body, except for one part. Which Buffy was actively licking and sucking, causing Spike to see colors shooting behind his eyes.
Very pleasant activities, indeed.
Spike waited Buffy outside the physical education building where their first class was to be held. Smoke curled up into the sky from his cigarette. He chatted amicably with several people he knew from previous courses, before they moved on to their own classes for the evening.
"Hi Willy!" Candy's gum-popping voice practically shouted in his ear. Spike groaned.
"Hello, Candy," he said, taking a drag on the cigarette.
"You waiting for your girlfriend?" she asked bubbly.
"Cool. You gotta class tonight?"
"So do I! Is it here in the PE Building?"
"Yes," Spike sighed. This perky blond was going to be the death of him.
"Me too! I'm taking aerobics. What are you taking?"
Candy looked at him funny. "You're learning how to build fences? In a gym class?"
Spike stamped out his cigarette and thrust his hands in his pocket. "Yes. That's it," he answered with a roll of his eyes.
"That is so weird!"
"What's so weird?" Buffy asked approaching the two blondes.
"Willy's taking a class where you learn to build fences!" Candy answered, facing the Slayer.
Spike mouthed 'help me' over her shoulder.
Buffy stifled a giggle, then linked arms with Spike. "Sounds neat. Well, we have to go, Candy."
Candy glanced at her Mickey mouse watch. "So do I! Bye, guys!" she said and ran into the building.
Spike engulfed Buffy in his arms, squeezing tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he repeated as he rained kisses on her upturned face.
"I'll have to add this to our list of evils to beware of in Sunnydale that Giles has started. I'll put her right after Cordy."
Spike laughed, then looked at his own watch. "C'mon, Slayer. Time to learn how to build fences."
The giggling duo entered the PE Building and headed to their class. Approximately ten other students sat on the floor, waiting for the instructor to begin.
"Do you know how to fence, Spike?" Buffy asked, taking a seat on the floor.
"Sort of. I use to have a go at it for sport," Spike answered, following Buffy to the floor. "I know that you definitely know how. So, why are you taking the class?"
"For fun. Giles won't let me train using the sword. He says it's 'inefficient for perusing the various forces of darkness and disposing them,'" Buffy replied in Giles' stodgy accent. "Besides, I haven't decided on a major, yet, but PhysEd is one of my top choices."
"What are your other ones?" Spike asked.
"Psychology, Philosophy and Art," Buffy ticked each one off her fingers. "Who'd of thought I'd ever be contemplating my college major. Slayer's rarely live past the ripe old age of 18 and I'm going to be 21 in a few months."
Spike smiled affectionately at her. "That's because I'm sort of on your side now. If I was still trying to kill you..."
"In your dreams, Spike," Buffy said, a stake appearing in her hand from nowhere. She wiggled it in his face. "In your dreams."
Spike chuckled as the instructor entered the classroom. "Good evening, class," he said, passing handouts around the room.
"Welcome to fencing. I am your host, Alex Trebeck," he continued in perfect mimicry of the famed Jeopardy host. "No. Actually, I'm Alex Logan, teacher of the finer points of dueling with a blade. You may call me 'sir.'"
The students tittered at the joke. "This is a mixed class, and you most likely have had one before today. For those of you just joining in, a mixed class is a class that has beginners to advanced to superhero."
"How did they know you were here, luv?" Spike whispered to Buffy so only a Slayer's super-hearing could pick up. Buffy swatted his thigh.
"Beginners, and you know who you are, take the time to read over this handout carefully. It contains pretty much everything you need to know about fencing and some stuff you didn't want to know," the instructor said.
"For everyone else, I'm going to devise a test to assess your skill level. Even if you think you are the cat's pajamas...by the way, has anyone ever seen a cat wearing pajama's? Do they come with feet?" The class' laughter filled the room.
"To go on," he said after everyone quieted down. "Even if you think you are at an advanced level, I want to test you anyway and decide for myself. I can see all of you dressed appropriately for a gym class, so we can begin right away."
Buffy and Spike stood and joined the group of non-beginners at the front of the room. The teacher took their names and motioned for them to put on a chest pad and grab a face mask.
"Ok, so called advanced students," the instructor said. He put on his own chest pad. "I shall 'fight' against each of you, starting with Ms. Summers, who I think is a doll."
Spike growled low as Buffy stood. "Shh," she scolded, putting on her face mask and taking a foil.
"Salute," the teacher said, bringing his sword strait up to his face. "And En garde."
Buffy mimicked the teacher's pose and waited for him to strike. The last time she had used a sword had been against Angelus, and she doubted that type of fighting was what the teacher wanted.
She blocked the first thrust, and the battle was on. Click, click, click went the foils as the opponents advanced and retreated on the mat. Buffy didn't use her full strength when striking, because she didn't want to break the instructor's hand off.
The other students stared at the dueling fighters. With each strike, there was a counterstrike. With each thrust there was a parry. Buffy's obvious skill shone brightly against the teacher's.
After ten minutes, the teacher called a halt. "That was excellent, Buffy," he said, slightly winded. Buffy wasn't even sweating. "I don't see why you would even bother to take this class."
"No one wants to duel with me outside of class," Buffy said, taking off her mask. "Not with foils, anyway." She grinned wickedly.
The laughter died down and class continued. Spike was adequate at the swordplay, but no one held a candle to the Slayer. If he hadn't seen Buffy battle Angelus all those years ago, his masculine pride wouldn't have been able to take being upstaged by her. Now, he had the pleasure of bragging that this awesome swordswoman was his ladylove.
"Logic. Someone define it for me," the professor said during the first philosophy class held on Tuesday.
Buffy raised Spike's hand, much to his chagrin.
"Yes, er...William," the professor called on Spike after looking down at his seating chart. The white haired instructor had made a great to-do about the seating chart, having everyone fill out their names and explaining that this is where everyone was to sit in each class.
"It's the science of correct or reliable reasoning," Spike answered with a dirty look at Buffy.
"Very good, anything to add to that, Buffy?" the professor asked with his deep southern voice, looking pointedly at the Slayer.
Buffy blushed. "It's...uh...what Spock uses?"
The class laughed at the Star Trek references. The professor just glared over his glasses. "Very funny, missy. I can see we're off to an interesting semester."
Buffy slouched into her seat, trying to become as small as possible.
Spike's Latin class was a typical language course. Students listened, repeated, and did exercises in the book. Buffy would have hated it.
"Precious," Spike said in a tone that meant he perturbed at something. "How come there is clay all over my bathroom?"
"It's from my art class, Spike," Buffy answered, her voice muffled by the closet she was rifling through. "I'll clean it up after patrol."
Spike sighed and ran a hand through his short, peroxide blond hair. "Is this going to happen every week?"
"Why?" Buffy said, sliding on the zippered sweatshirt she'd found in Spike's closet.
"Just wondering if I should get you a maid's uniform," Spike answered with a devilish grin.
Thursday rolled around, and another class began. Buffy and Spike sat next to each other in the crowded classroom.
"Hello, class," the teacher said in greeting. "This is Family Living. Here you will learn all about the dynamics of the family and do a familiar experiment with a twist."
"Is it the egg baby experiment?" one student asked.
"Not eggs," Buffy said under her breath. "Anything but eggs."
"Why is that pet?" Spike asked.
"Last time I was an egg parent, I got eaten by a really gross blob called a bezoar or something," Buffy replied.
Spike arched an eyebrow. He couldn't wait to hear the details of that story.
"No, we're not doing the egg experiment. Instead, you will have the option of choosing a partner or staying 'single,' whether or not you have children and the type of jobs you have based on your college major or your current employment," the teacher said.
"But can't we all just choose a career that would make us super-rich?" another student asked.
"There are guidelines that I am handing out right now that you must follow. Be sure to follow the correct page depending on if you are single, married or lifetime partners. I will expect you to turn in a personal workup detailed in the handout next week."
The class continued as Buffy read the handout:
Psychology: Family Living
This project will count for one-half of your final grade. Detailed questions are at the end of the handout, which are to be answered in full and turned in on the assigned due date. Questions? Contact me at ext. 6854.
Personal Workup: For all students. Due September 14.
Name, gender, age, approximate grade level, major, present employment and wage, present living arrangements, extracurricular activities and current plans for the future.
"I'm going to teach you how to dance," Spike told Buffy on Friday night.
"I already know how to dance," Buffy said.
"That is not dancing. That is bouncing in one spot to the beat," Spike said. He pulled her to him.
"But no one dances like this anymore," Buffy whined as he started to move instruct her in basic swing.
"There's still a retro-swing movement," Spike said. "And I, personally, like swing music."
"That's cuz you heard it when it was new."
"Watch it, pet," Spike said. "That kind of talking will get you into trouble."
"Like I'm really scared of an old geezer like you," Buffy chided.
Spike spun her in his arms, and held her tightly against him, her back pressed against his chest. "I warned you," he whispered seductively in Buffy's ear. Then he lightly kissed her neck before sinking his fangs into it.
Buffy gasped, startled, at the sudden bite. Then she melted back into Spike's embrace and allowed him to drink from her. Her body tingled in pleasure when she felt his tongue tracing patterns on her neck, cleaning the twin puncture wounds.
Spike moved his cool hands to Buffy's waist, then began to move her hips against his in a primal, erotic fashion. Buffy raised her arms, weaving a pattern in the air, as he continued to lick her neck.
"Did you do the Family Living assignment?" Buffy asked on Wednesday night.
"Yes, I did," Spike said. He was taking a quiz in one of the many magazines Buffy left at his condo. This one was entitled 'Are You a True Friend?'
"Can I see it?"
Spike looked at Buffy sitting on the floor in front of him, her books on the coffee table. "You haven't done yours yet?"
"Well...I started it, but I'm having some trouble," she confessed.
"What kind of trouble?"
"Here, just read my rough draft," she answered, handing him her paper. "Where's yours?"
"Front of the textbook," Spike motioned with his hand to the books piled by the front door. He began to read Buffy's assignment out loud.
"Name: Buffy Anne Summers. Gender: Female. Age: 20. Grade level: Junior. Major: Undecided. Present Employment and Wage: The Chosen One - $0.00. Present Living Arrangements: With parent. Extracurricular activities: Saving the world. Fighting the forces of darkness. Sex with my demon lover. Future Plans: Staying alive."
Spike looked incredulously at Buffy. "I told you so," Buffy said as she found his paper and returned to her seat on the floor. "I got frustrated when everything said 'none.'" She began to read his aloud.
"Name: William Suffolk. Gender: Male. Age: N/A. Grade level: N/A. Major: N/A. Present Employment and Wage: N/A, large inheritance. Present Living Arrangements: Own condominium and several other properties throughout the world. Extracurricular activities: None. Future Plans: Taking classes, advancing relationships, enjoying life."
Buffy arched one delicate eyebrow at Spike. "What's with all these N/A's?"
"That means not applicable," Spike explained.
Buffy glared at him. "I know what it means, fang face."
"Should I be offended by your callous reference to my undead state," Spike asked, mimicking Giles' uptight voice.
Buffy couldn't help but laugh. "Never mind. Help me with mine. I doubt the teacher would appreciate my telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"'But that would not be logical,'" Spike quoted, this time attempting Leonard Nimoy's deep voice and reminding them of Buffy's answer in philosophy class.
Their laughter could be heard ringing out into the night.
Two weeks later, loud arguing could be heard ringing out into the night.
"Listen, we have to decided whether to stay single, be a married couple or lifetime partners," Buffy said for the umpteenth time.
"What's the difference between them again?" Spike asked, tapping his fingers on the kitchen table.
Buffy stood and threw her arms in the air. "Aargh! For the last time, a married couple is legally binding; lifetime partners is a couple that stays together without the benefits or negative legalities; and single is what you're gonna be if you don't decide!"
"I'm still unclear on this lifetime partners thing," Spike said. "How can we be lifetime partners if I'm going to live forever?"
"And as a Slayer, my lifespan is very short," Buffy said, sitting back down in her chair. She thumped her head on the table.
"C'mon, Slayer. It's not that bad."
"Just pick one so we can start on the assignment," Buffy said wearily. "We're suppose to have a beginning budget listing all our expenses by tomorrow, including any costs of getting married if that's the route we go."
Spike looked at the top of her blond head. For once, he really didn't know what to do.
So, he flipped a coin.
"Tails. Looks like it's lifetime partners," Spike said, holding the coin towards her.
Buffy lifted her head and looked at the nickel. "Lifetime partners it is."
Spike wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not.
Spike was in the art building, looking for Buffy. His Latin class had let out early and he wanted to let her know that he'd meet her at his place, rather than after class let out.
Music filtered through the hallway. Spike followed it and found Buffy sitting in an empty classroom, facing away from the door. Grinning like a fool, Spike slipped off his coat and put his books on a nearby table. He knew that she sensed him approaching, but she did not turn.
As the music swelled in its familiar refrain, Spike stepped behind Buffy and ran his hands down her clay covered arms, pressing her to him. She leaned back against him.
*And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much.
Are you still mine?
I need your love,
I need your love.
Send your love to me.*
The song faded. Buffy stopped the spinning wheel and looked down at their joined, messy hands, then up into Spike's grinning face.
They both burst out laughing. Spike's knees went weak from laughing so hard, he fell bonelessly to the floor. Buffy spun on her seat, took one look at the hysterical vampire, and started to laugh even harder. Soon, tears streamed down both of their faces. Buffy was clutching her sides in pain and was having trouble breathing.
"I didn't," gasp. "know," gasp. "you've seen," gasp. "that movie."
"I do have a life, pet," Spike said, wiping the bloody tears on his face. He was certainly glad he didn't need to breathe. "Plus, Dru had a thing for Patrick Swayze."
That sent them into another fit of side gripping laughter.
Buffy saluted Spike. It was final exam time again and Buffy wanted to show off. Spike had goaded her into fighting against him for their ‘free’ session as the instructor tested the beginning students.
"En garde," Buffy said, falling into position. Spike smirked at her under his mask. He had wanted to do this since the beginning of the semester.
The speed at which they started fencing was blinding. Buffy gave it her all, not holding back. the foils flashed, clicking rapidly as the vampire and the Slayer fought. The other students gathered around the combatants, amazed at their speed and accuracy. Even the instructor stopped to watch.
"Where’s that Slayer wit I’m use to hearing?" Spike asked suddenly.
"It’s still here, but you’re not worth it," Buffy replied with a grin.
"I’m hurt," Spike said in a mocking tone.
"You’re about to hurt worse."
"All talk and no action," Spike taunted.
"That’s not what you said last night."
If Spike could blush, he would have been red as a stop sign. "Airing our personal lives for everyone, Pet?"
"If I aired out your socks, they’d die of asphyxiation."
"Touché, mon cherie," Spike said as their blades clashed.
Buffy actually stopped fighting to take a bow, causing Spike to stumble. With a grin, Buffy flicked her wrist, knocking Spike’s foil aside. She touched the point of her blade tot he red heart on the chest pad.
Spike looked down in surprise, then back at Buffy’s face. He dropped his foil and clutched his hands over the red pattern, faking being mortally wounded. "Curses! Foiled again!"
The classroom rang with laughter as Spike and Buffy removed their face masks. Clasping hands, the duo bowed to the applauding audience. Spike leaned over and kissed Buffy on the cheek. "you’re amazing," he whispered in her ear.
"And you’re incorrigible," Buffy replied.
"I aim to please."
"You have two hours for this final exam. Begin."
The students opened their exams and read the single question posed on the paper.
Buffy and Spike looked at each other then back at their respective papers. They did not have a psychology final, so they had spent the past weekend studying, pausing only for food and the occasional roll in the hay.
Buffy wrote her answer quickly, then stood and brought it to the southern professor. He accepted it with a raised eyebrow, then read her answer. With a smile, he wrote ‘A’ at the top of the page in red marker.
Grinning, Buffy left the classroom. She started to jump up and down in the hall, chanting silently to herself. *I got an A! I got an A!*
Spike closed the door to the classroom in time to see Buffy’s impromptu dance. She saw him and launched herself into his arms. "I got an A!"
"Me too, pet," Spike answered quietly. They grasped hands and left the building, extremely happy.
Philosophy 304 Final Exam
Philosophy 304 Final Exam
A: Why not?