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Rating: varies G to R
Posted on: Monday, June 6th 2005 @ 9:06pm



The Sunnydale Files


by
frk_werewolf



File 21
The Kink of Wesley

"I have a sudden urge to tie you onto that desk and spank you."

Wesley straightened and watched, amused, as Charles' eyes widened. For a moment, he thought the man would pass out. Instead, Charles fingered the top of his desk thoughtfully, before looking up at Wesley.

"But I don't have any rope." Charles replied, looking on the verge of a pout.

"I can fully assure you, rope is not necessary." Wesley pulled up a spare chair and sat down next to the desk. Thankfully, he had remembered to shut Charles' classroom door, so no student would be entering anytime soon. Until the next class, that is.

"It isn't?" Charles asked, with a smile.

"Not at all. Certain measures could be taken to keep you in one position. Certain... Praises for good behavior." Wesley replied.

"You are one kinky bastard." Charles said, his smile blossoming into a full grin. Wesley blushed.

It was strange, now that Wesley thought about it. He could probably spout off millions of different things involving something vulgar and not blush at all. But have someone he desperately liked say something similar to what he just described, and he was redder than a beet. It really was unfair.

"So, you will go to the Bronze with me Friday?" Charles asked. "You're not going to ditch me, are you?"

"I've ventured into the history hallway of our glorious school in order to talk to you." Wesley informed him. "I think it's safe to say I'm still interested."

"Good." Charles grinned, satisfied.

"But do you really want to go hang out at the same place as our students?" Wesley asked. "Isn't that kind of... I don't know-"

"Kinky?" Charles suggested. Wesley decided Charles must really enjoy that word.

"That about sums it up, I suppose." Wesley agreed. Wesley watched with a smile as Charles smirked. Under the desk, he could feel large, warm hand rest against his knee.

"We ain't young. I figured we could show those kids how to really party." Charles said.

"Hmm, well, I've never really been to one of those types of clubs, myself." Wesley admitted. Charles raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but Wesley continued on. "I've been to a bondage club, though. That was rather fun."

"Man, you really are kinky." Charles said in shock.

"Not really." Wesley informed him. "I'm all talk."

"Hmm, well we just might have to change that." Charles said, giving Wesley his best leer. Wesley laughed, though it sounded more like a giggle than anything. Charles' leer slowly melted into a soft smile. "So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Well, my eleventh years have a Scarlet Letter paper due today. No doubt I'll be spending most of the afternoon, between classes, grading and trying to figure out who talked whom into doing the report for them." Wesley replied.

"William Bradshaw." Charles announced.

"Pardon?"

"The poor kid." Charles shook his head. "All the jocks get him to do their reports, along with his twin brother. He's pretty smart, though."

"Hmm, he must be." Wesley said. "After all, I believe most of the jocks and, as you said, his brother have a C+ average."

"Yeah, he knows how to read people. Make sure they only get the grade they deserve." Charles nodded. Charles glanced over Wesley's shoulder and let out a sigh. "The children come to learn the ways of the law, I'm afraid. Or, since all I can see is Harris' head, it could be a counseling thing."

"Funny, my students have yet to come to me for counsel." Wesley noted.

"You're too damn kinky for them." Charles teased. "Harris is the only one that comes to see me, actually. But, well, he's got a pretty shitty home life."

"Ah, I see." Wesley replied. Wesley could feel his face tighten up slightly, and immediately pushed thoughts of locked doors and tiny rooms underneath the stairs out of his mind. He looked up at Charles, finding a pair of thoughtful eyes staring at him. Eyes that clearly knew what was going on in the Brit's head. Wesley cleared his throat. "Well, I should be getting back to, uh, class."

"Right." Charles smiled. "See you later, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." Wesley fumbled, breaking into a large grin. He opened the classroom door, ignoring Xander's startled look, before literally floating back to the English hallway.





File 22
Captain of the Squad



Cordelia knew something was going on behind her back. Perhaps it was the look Harmony and her little friends were sending her. Perhaps it was that one geeky kid -- what was his name? John something or other... -- that kept staring at her short skirt. Something was about to happen. And Cordelia was damned sure it wasn't going to ruin her reputation.

Naturally this meant that she had to get to the bottom of this obvious conspiracy. So, Cordelia sauntered toward the geeky kid, who sat on the steps leading to the gym where they were about to start cheerleading practice. "John, right?"

"J-Jonathon L-Levinson." The boy stammered.

"Whatever, I don't care." Cordelia informed him. "I have a favor to ask."

"Favor?" Jonathon asked, gulping.

"Yes." Cordelia replied. "I need you to lurk. I mean, you obviously do that sort of thing rather well. Hell, I didn't even notice that you were here! So, go... Lurk."

"Umm..." Jonathon stared up at her, completely and utterly confused. Cordelia let out a dramatic sigh. Didn't anyone listen to her anymore?

"Look!" Cordelia exclaimed. "I just want you to go over there and listen in on their conversation. Okay? Do you understand me?"

"The cheerleaders." Jonathon clarified.

"Yes."

"Oh..." Jonathon shifted slightly, before turning toward the small cluster of cheerleaders. He glanced once at Cordelia's impatient face before shuffling along the wall. He reached the corner of the gym and pressed himself against the brickwork. Cordelia was rather impressed when he nearly melted into the shadows. No wonder no one paid any attention to him.

Cordelia immediately pulled out her nail file and set about inspecting her burgundy painted nails. Humming to herself, she waited until her little minion returned.

"Umm, C-Cordelia?" Jonathon stammered. Cordelia jumped in shock. Really, this kid should go into the FBI or something. She didn't even hear his footsteps.

"Well? What are they saying?" Cordelia demanded.

"They, ah, they..." Jonathon stared at her a moment, as though debating whether he should really tell her or not. Cordelia made a 'hurry up' motion with her hand. "Oh, umm... They were talking about whether they should let you stay... Captain of the cheerleading squad."

"What?" Cordelia screeched.

"Ow." Jonathon muttered, rubbing at his ear.

"That bitch!" Cordelia hissed. "I know this is all Harmony's fault. She's been trying to take my spot for months now."

"Well, I'm sure you'll convince them..." Jonathon trailed off when he realized that Cordelia wasn't listening to him.

"Thanks." Cordelia muttered absently, patting him on the shoulder. Jonathon watched, shocked, as she stormed in the other girls' direction. His shoulder burned slightly from where she had touched it.

Cordelia's mind immediately forgot about Jonathon as she made her way over to her fellow cheerleaders. She could see the moment Harmony spotted her. The blonde went stiff, her mouth gaping and eyes looking frantic, before that hyper and ridiculously happy mask slid into place. Cordelia couldn't help but smirk. Harmony was so easy to see though, after all.

"Ladies." Cordelia greeted in a cold tone. "Are you ready?"

"Sure!" Harmony replied, as they entered the gym.

The other girls remained quiet, watching the two with interest. In all honestly, if they had to chose a captain of the quad, it would be Cordelia. She, at least, was creative enough to come up with new routines. The problem with Harmony, however, was that she had a habit of starting rumors and creating a large amount of trouble for those who did not agree with her. The cheerleaders each made a silent vow to themselves. If this came down to Harmony and Cordelia battling it out for the position, they would just step back and let them go.

Because nothing was more amusing than two rich girls getting into a fight.





File 23
Application Hunt



"God, what an ass!" Xander exclaimed as he and Jesse exited the local Burger King.

"I told you, man. That guy takes his position far too seriously." Jesse said, watching as Xander tore up the application in his hands. "So, where does that leave us?"

"Not in a good place." Xander admitted, tossing the pieces of paper into a nearby trashcan. He looked down at the tiny stack of papers in his other hand. "I've got three applications. One for Starbucks, the gas station, and that creepy bookstore down on 5th. The bookstore is the only one that's actually hiring, though. But I don't think I want to work with that lady. She kept eyeing my butt."

"There has got to be some place else that will hire you." Jesse insisted.

"I don't know." Xander sighed. "This is Sunnydale, after all. What little jobs I'm qualified for are already filled by the other teens in this town. And the nearest town is Oxnard, which, ew, so not working there."

"Oh, it's not that bad of a place." Jesse commented as they left the Burger King parking lot. "My Uncle Mike lives there."

"But your Uncle Mike hangs out with my uncles." Xander pointed out. Jesse winced. "Exactly. There's nothing there but bars and prostitutes." Xander folded his applications in half and slipped them into his back pocket. "Hey, now there's an idea."

"You are not turning into a prostitute." Jesse said. "Who would want to have sex with your scrawny ass, anyway?"

"Hey!" Xander gave him a mock-glare as they turned the corner. "I'll have you know I have a very nice ass. Very sexable."

"Oh, yes, darling. It is." A voice said as they walked past. Xander felt his face heat up about ten degrees. He frowned at the leering man, before noticing where they were.

"Hey, we're on Mitchell Street." Xander pointed out.

"Joy." Was Jesse's response.

"Oooh, want to go check out the Sundance Club?" Xander asked, bouncing in excitement. Jesse rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gay." Jesse stated, before sighing dramatically. "But I'm comfortable in my sexuality to give you this moment of happiness."

"Yes!" Xander pumped his fist. They quickly made their way further down the street, passing by a couple of brightly designed shops.

Mitchell Street was exactly what one would expect for a small town gay district. Unlike with a big city, the gayness (if one opted to call it that) was subtle. In fact, if one was just to take a glance it would appear as a street with bright shops. The only thing that gave it away was the large groups of men standing around, along with the small rainbow flags dangling from a few windows.

The Sundance Club, from the outside, looked a bit like the Bronze. It had a modest looking sign and a bouncer at the door. The only thing that gave it away as a strip club was a small sign that said 'Don't Steal the Thongs', which was located next to the bouncer's head. As Xander and Jesse approached, the large man let out a huge sigh.

"We don't let in minors, eh?" The man stated, lighting a cigarette. With his blonde hair cropped short, he looked like he belonged in the army.

"We aren't-" Jesse started to lie.

"Actually, we are." Xander interrupted. The bouncer smirked slightly. "But I was wondering if you could let that pass... Just this once?" Xander pulled out the puppy-dog eyes. "Please?"

"Damn, kid, you should market those." The bouncer said, chuckling. He gestured toward the door. "What do you want with a place like this, anyway?"

"Xander's gay curiosity is getting the better of him." Jesse announced.

"Shut up!" Xander hissed. He turned back to the bouncer. "Honestly? I was out looking for a job, we randomly ended up here, and I thought I'd take a peek."

"Job, eh?" The bouncer eyed him. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen." Xander said. Jesse snorted, causing the bouncer to raise an eyebrow. "Okay! Okay! I'm sixteen. I'll be seventeen in, like, a month though."

"We can't hire anyone under eighteen, unless you're in the kitchens." The bouncer informed him. He waved his cigarette around in a wide gesture. "Well, that's what we tell the employment office, anyway."

"Oh?" Xander asked, sharing a look with Jesse. Jesse started humming some nasty, porn-themed tune under his throat. Xander stepped on his foot. "Are you sure? I mean, shouldn't I be talking to-"

"The owner?" The man asked, with a cocky grin. "That would be me."

"I thought you were-" Xander started again.

"The bouncer." The man interrupted once more. "Actually, my bouncer's running late today so I took over." He held out a hand. Xander shook it with a sense of unease. "Name's Riley Finn. Why don't we go inside, hmm?"





File 24
Chemistry of a Crush



Fred paused in her experiment long enough to look up at the clock, noting that it was after four in the afternoon. With a sigh she quickly capped the vial for her latest experiment and set it on one of the shelves. She then mechanically went through the same procedure she went through every day, since the end of freshman year. The glasses were cleaned, goggles put up, chemicals placed in the right locations. By the time she was done, the room looked better than it had when she came in.

"Ah, Ms. Burkle." Ethan greeted, entering the room. "I didn't know you were still here."

"Well, I was trying to figure out why, exactly, the first component of the equation worked better when replaced with a hydrogen mixture." Fred explained, gather her book bag.

"Hmm." Ethan replied, ushering her toward the door.

"It's fascinating once you take a look at it." Fred told him.

"I'm sure it is, sweetheart." Ethan replied.

"Well, I guess I'll be back tomorrow." Fred said. Ethan nodded absentmindedly, grabbing his briefcase and gently guiding her into the hall. "I was wondering, do you think you might be able to get a hold of a few things for me?"

"You're not trying to build a bomb, are you?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Fred laughed. "I'm working on a thesis for a science magazine."

"Indeed." Ethan nodded. "Well, you're free to use the facilities. I must say it is refreshing to see someone actually interested in the subject. Just get me a list and I'll see what I can do."

Fred quickly thanked him, before leaving the science department and making her way out of the school. As she hopped down the steps, she spotted the cheerleading squad on the front lawn. They were dressed in tiny outfits that Fred often saw gymnasts wear. She could see Cordelia, her dark hair easy to spot amongst the blondes, leading the girls in a stretch.

Fred gulped. She fumbled with her book bag, fighting to get it strapped across her back. Focusing her eyes on the ground, she made her way to the nearest bench to wait for her ride. After a few minutes, listening to Cordelia's demanding voice became too much. She looked up, and immediately said a curse that would have caused her parents to gasp. But at that moment, Fred didn't really care. Cordelia was bent over, her backside facing Fred, while digging through her bag.

Fred shifted in her seat and poked the toe of her shoe into a crack in the sidewalk, hoping that would occupy her. It was a worthless wish, because her eyes were unable to turn away from the sight of Cordelia's body. Cordelia straightened up, having found a soft towel. She then began wiping down her forehead and arms. Fred followed the movement, fully aware of the blush rising in her cheeks.

"Alright, girls. Time for the squats." Cordelia announced, tossing her towel back into her bag.

As the girls switched to the new exercise, Fred forced herself to look away. She mentally berated herself. She was a scientist. An intellectual woman who did not need the pleasures of the flesh to fulfill her life. The sight of Cordelia in those tight exercise clothes where not turning her on.

"Winifred!" A deep Southern voice called out. Fred jerked in surprise, finding that she had returned to staring at the cheerleaders for some time now. Blinking, she turned to see her father leaning out of his truck. "Come on, darlin'!"

"Coming." Fred mumbled, grabbing her things. With one last glance at Cordelia's superb body, she darted to the truck.





File 25
The Difference in Brothers



"I do not wish to go to the Bronze tonight." William insisted, watching as his brother sniffed clothes, winced, and threw them to the side. It was an activity he participated in daily, William noticed. One would think he'd learn what a washing machine was.

"You're such a baby." Spike complained, pulling on a pair of leather pants.

"I don't see why we can't do something I want." William pointed out, his fingers nervously tugging at the sleeve of his gray button down shirt. For not the first time since they were younger, William noticed just how different he and Spike were.

Spike was harsh, but not overly so. He could slice a person open with a scathing comment, or make someone feel completely at home. William had been on the receiving end of both. Spike dressed in all black, and looked the part of a sex god. Leather fit to his body like a second skin and the bleached color of his hair made him look like the traditional bad boy.

William was different in every way. He wasn't harsh, and he was so uncomfortable in nearly every situation that he hardly affected those around him. No matter how much Spike tried to get him to get out and simply do things, William was much happier in his room, with a notebook and the soft sounds of modern jazz floating out of his stereo. He dressed conservatively, looking more like some sort of librarian than an actual teenager. His hair, wavy blonde locks that fell into his clear blue eyes, only added to the effect.

"Then what, do tell, do you want to do?" Spike asked, jerking William out of his thoughts.

"Well, there is a poetry reading at the community college." William asked, albeit meekly. Spike stared at him, his eyes slowly narrowing.

"I am not going to a fucking poetry reading!" Spike exclaimed in disgust.

"Well, I didn't ask you to come along, did I?" William returned, crossing his arms in defiance. "I go places without you."

"Sure you do." Spike said in a sort of tone that made William want to kick him.

"Look, I'm going to the poetry reading. You go to the Bronze. I don't really care." William informed him, his voice almost stern. Spike's eyes sparkled in some parody of amusement. William rolled his own eyes and stormed back to his room.

He ignored Spike, who exited his room wearing only his leather pants and Doc Martins. Grabbing his notebook, which fit comfortably in the crook of his arm, William brushed past his brother and made his way to the stairs. He paused at the door and glanced back to see Spike pulling on his leather duster.

"Aren't you going to put on a shirt?" William asked.

"Nah." Spike replied.

"Where are you going?" William questioned, pushing open the door and stepping out into the night.

"To meet Oz at the Bronze." Spike replied. "He's got a small set to finish, then we're going to go hang out at this little place on the edge of town."

"You don't mean Handler's Hill, do you?" William said, with a slight smirk.

"Only you would ask a fucking question like that." Spike stated, shaking his head.

"Well, I just..." William paused, as though wondering what it was he was really thinking. Surely, Spike and Oz had been to Handler's Hill. The hill wasn't much of a hill, more like an oversized cliff that overlooked the city. The typical spot for teenagers to fumble and caress and pretend to be romantic. William, personally, thought the idea of going there to be barbaric. But that was him and this was Spike. "I thought..."

"Did you?" Spike asked, almost snidely. William paused, before letting out a sigh.

"Well, what was I suppose to think!" William replied. "You spend all your time with him."

"Jealous?" Spike glanced at him, hands stuffed into his duster.

"Of you and Oz? No!" William shook his head. "...Is there something to be jealous about?"

"You're asking if me and the stoner fuck." Spike surmised. William winced at the harsh words. Spike bumped him with his shoulder, catching the poet off guard. "We don't. We're just friends."

"Oh. Okay." William said, almost uneasy. He didn't even know why he was bothered by the thought, anyway. It was just Oz, after all. Besides, he was practically in love with Xander.

"Hey, we might stop by this... Poetry thing later on, yeah?" Spike suggested.

"Sure." William said, offhandedly. Ignoring Spike's stare, William turned away and began walking toward the college.





File 26
The Sundance Club



Jesse felt his jaw become unhinged as the sight on stage registered. He didn't realize that, well, stripping looked like that. Aside from the occasional porn magazine stolen out of his father's sock drawer, Jesse could admit to not having any contact with what is known as 'sexual'. Unless a person counted his hand, but no self-respecting person would admit to that.

Xander walked ahead of him, looking for all the world like a person going on death row. Jesse didn't blame him. That Riley fellow kept glancing back at Xander, grinning. Jesse watched, with wide eyes, as Xander followed Riley into the back office, leaving him standing inside a gay strip club all alone.

Shifting nervously on his feet, curiosity got the better of him and he began looking around. The stage wasn't that large, but it was enough room for the current stripper to move around. It also came with a pole, which the stripper was now using. Jesse watched, almost as though he couldn't help himself, as a pair of pants were suddenly flung off. Jesse took one look at the tiny blue thong and looked away, shuddering.

"I just don't get it." Jesse muttered to himself. "I don't think I ever will."

"Well, hello there." Jesse's back stiffened at the voice behind him. Muttering a quick prayer, he slowly turned around. This guy was even bigger than Riley, although a few inches shorter. He looked like he was in a permanent bad mood, although there was a hint of perkiness caught in his eyes.

"Hi." Jesse squeaked.

"Bit young to be in here, aren't you?" The man asked, a stern eyebrow raising.

"M-my friend is, uh, in there." Jesse pointed at the office door.

"All right, cutie." The man smirked. "But I'll be watching you."

"Oh, that's nice." Jesse said, his voice uneasy. He watched as the man walked over to the main door, where he proceeded to stand like a large trunk blocking the doorway. That must have been the bouncer that was late.

Twenty minutes later, Jesse was not amused. He had been hit on three times by the only customer in the building. The stripper kept wiggling his butt in Jesse's direction. The bouncer smirked every time Jesse glanced his way. The bartender wouldn't even look at him. After twenty minutes, Jesse was ready to leave.

Ten minutes after that, the office door finally opened. Xander emerged, looking rather smug with himself, along with a chuckling Riley. Xander bounced over to Jesse's side, gripping in his hands some sort of black cloth.

"Took you long enough." Jesse hissed.

"He gave me an interview." Xander replied. He held up the cloth, which turned out to be a small apron.

"Please don't tell me you have to strip down to that thing." Jesse begged.

"No." Xander rolled his eyes. "I'm a waiter."

"You're not legal!" Jesse exclaimed.

"So?" Xander grinned.

"Legal? Fuck that shit." Riley announced, shaking his head.

"Are you sure about this?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah. I have to get a job." Xander replied. "My dad will literally kill me if I don't get a job by the end of the week. I'm willing to work here, if it means getting away from home."

"Father gives you trouble, huh?" Riley questioned, gesturing for the bouncer. "Tough break, kid." He made a sweeping motion toward the bouncer, who was still smirking in Jesse's direction. Jesse had a feeling it was more to make him nervous than anything. "This is Graham Miller. He's the bouncer. If you ever have any trouble, call for him. Got it, kid?"

"Yeah."

"Let's get out of here." Jesse urged, dragging Xander toward the door.

"Bye, cutie." Graham said in a low voice. Riley slapped Graham in the shoulder and frowned, causing the bouncer to look sheepish.





File 27
William's Poem



Notice: Apologies for the horrible poem, because it is horrid and that's the reason I gave poetry writing up.


Oz wasn't the type to be shocked. When Spike showed up, dragging him out of the Bronze, he went along without protest. Because he wasn't shocked. When Cordelia bumped into them on her way in, and practically hissed like a cat, he merely shrugged. Because he wasn't shocked. When Spike made him drive to the local college so he could "keep an eye on my idiot twin", Oz simply smiled. Because he wasn't shocked.

Spike was the most possessive person Oz knew. Whether it was William or the black lighter in his pocket, Spike didn't let anyone touch or abuse what he considered his. William, naturally, ignored Spike when possible. Oz had to admit, having a brother like Spike must have been nerve wracking.

They pulled up to the college's little coffee house. The large sign, declaring the poetry reading of the night, caused Oz to raise an eyebrow. But, again, he wasn't shocked. William liked that sort of thing.

It wasn't until they walked inside and caught William standing nervously on the stage that Oz began to feel... Shocked. It was a strange feeling, one that he wasn't accustomed to. It reminded him of the feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when he watched William hold a pen. The poet looked like he was about to bolt, and Oz was thankful that he hadn't spotted them. Because, knowing William, if he saw Spike he would indeed run.

Broken down
This invisible barrier
That holds the pain inside.
I'm crossing the line,
Cutting into what's left of your heart.
Standing here,
Watching the blood
As it drips from my fingers,
I'm reminded of what you said.
Your words destroyed my heart,
Like my knife destroyed your flesh.
Broken down
This invisible barrier,
Allowing the demon within
Space to grow strong.
And I'll admit to you:
I regret nothing.


"Bloody hell." Spike whispered. Oz agreed full-heartedly. William's voice, which had cracked and barely raised above a whisper in his nervousness, sounded so strange speaking those words.

"Right..." Oz cleared his throat. "What now?"

"That was... Bloody hell." Spike repeated. They watched as William practically ran off the stage. "Come on."

"You want to go talk to him?" Oz said, surprised when his voice nearly squeaked. Heaven only knew, he needed a hit of something as soon as possible. Oz followed Spike around the back of the cafe to the back door, where William was pulling on his coat.

"Leaving so soon?" Spike asked, causing William to jump in shock. "Don't you want to read more about death and blood and all that shit."

"What are you talking about?" William muttered, slipping out the door. He didn't look back as they followed him to the van.

"That... That poem!" Spike exclaimed. "If you want to call it a poem."

"Well, honestly." William said in exasperation. "It wasn't that bad. Harsh, I'm sure, and it does need a little work. That's why you go to places like these, to see the reaction of others."

"I thought..." Spike paused long enough to light a cigarette. Oz shuffled past them and grabbed a joint out of the van. "I thought you wrote things about flowers and brown eyes."

"Oh, please." William rolled his eyes.

Oz watched as the conversation continued, William looking more and more frustrated. Slowly, the comfortable haze in his own emotions surfaced. With a soft sigh, Oz nearly paid tribute to the Marijuana Gods. Life was so much easier to deal with -- Hell, Spike and William were so much easier to deal with -- when you were stuck in a nice, fluffy cloud.

"Will you let it drop?" William suddenly snapped, causing Oz to look up from where he had been staring at William's hands. "It wasn't that much of an atrocity. Right, Oz?"

"Uhh..." Oz cut himself off, trying to formulate the right words to describe William's poem. "It was... Interesting."

"Really?" William beamed and Oz felt, for once, that he had said something to make William happy. It was a nice feeling.

"Oh please." Spike muttered, jumping into the van and slamming the door. Oz shared a look with William, before walking around to the driver's side door. He had a feeling, deep down, that Spike wasn't upset about the poem. No, he was upset that his mental image of his brother -- perfect, mousy, and sentimental -- had suddenly received a crack in it's foundation.





File 28
Rupert Giles, Counselor



"So, I was like, no way! And he was like, you so do!" Buffy exclaimed, leaning against the counter. "Do you get what I'm saying? This guy is... Ugh!"

"He sounds..." Rupert started, before shaking his head. He glanced at Willow, who was hording the computer, and then back to Buffy. "Don't you two have class?"

"Study hall." Willow informed him.

"And you?" Rupert asked, raising an eyebrow. Buffy looked up from where she was picking at her nails.

"Ummm..." Buffy frowned. "I think I have math."

"Shouldn't you be in math, then?" Rupert fought not to roll his eyes.

"Why? It's just math." Buffy gave him an odd look, as though he should be perfectly aware that it was 'just math'. "So, anyway, that Angel guy is turning into a real creep."

"Well, have you told him to leave you alone?" Rupert asked, grabbing a few books and walking toward the shelves. Much to his annoyance, Buffy followed.

"Yes!" Buffy insisted. "He's being... A horrible stalker, is what he's being! He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's following me around." Buffy watched as he placed book after book on the shelf, her hands resting on her hips in protest. "I mean, does it hurt to have a little class?"

"Hmm, well, I suggest staying away from him." Rupert advised.

"But that's just it, Giles!" Buffy threw her hands up.

"Mr. Giles." Rupert pointed out. Buffy ignored him.

"He's..." Buffy continued. "I don't know. I like it! I'll admit it. I like Angel's attention." Rupert didn't comment. "Well? Don't you have anything to say about that?"

"...Ms. Summers." Rupert sighed. "I'm not sure why you are telling these things to me in the first place, let alone what I should say."

"Well, you're my counselor. So... Counsel." Buffy stated.

Rupert, for one brief moment, thought about enacting revenge on Principle Snyder. He was a librarian, not a school teacher. He didn't have the training to be a counselor for teenagers, especially in their love life. He glanced at Buffy, who was staring at him and waiting for a reply.

"Ms. Summers-" Rupert started.

"You can call me Buffy." Buffy offered.

"Buffy, then." Rupert nodded. "I'm going to be completely honest here. I don't know what you should do. I hardly have the training to give you any sort of advice." Buffy frowned. "However, as a person that worries about your safety, I would stay away from this young man."

"But-" Buffy began.

"I really do believe it would be for the best." Rupert told her. "It's not healthy to have such an infatuation with someone. He could be dangerous. I suggest staying away from him and waiting to see what happens."

"You know..." Buffy eyed him. "You're kind of cool for an old guy."

"Lovely." Rupert sighed. Buffy grinned and turned to walk away, before pausing at the end of the bookcase.

"Oh, by the way, my mom will probably be calling you up some time soon." Buffy said.

"And why would she do that?" Rupert asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She wants you to lead the new Writer's Club." Buffy informed him.

"I beg your pardon?" Rupert didn't know whether to laugh or not. "I'm a librarian! Why don't people understand this?"

"Well, I don't know about you, but Principal Snyder is under the impression that this school doesn't need clubs like that." Buffy said with a smile. "My mom is his number one enemy and will do anything, if it means going against what he wants. That, and she's a liberal arts freak."

"So... I suspect Principal Snyder doesn't, ah, agree to this?" Rupert asked. Buffy shook her head. Unable to stop himself, Rupert let out a snort of laughter. Librarian or not, if it meant pissing Snyder off, he'd go along with it.





File 29
Lunchtime Conversation



"You're in a chipper mood." Ethan stated with a scowl. Charles merely grinned smugly, tossing a plastic container into the microwave.

"It's a good day, my man!" Charles announced. "A very good day."

"I see someone got laid." Ethan commented, pulling his own lunch out of the refrigerator. He walked over to the table, stepping over the gym teacher's passed out form along the way. Many of the other teacher's in the lounge looked similar to this, in various spots around the room. All of the fans were turned on high, despite the air conditioning, and a few teachers stood in front of them in a sort of daze.

"Laid? Nah." Charles replied, pulling out his lunch. He peeled the lid off the container, cursing softly as the steam practically boiled his fingers. "But tomorrow? I am going out to dance with the sexiest British man in this school."

"Well, I don't remember agreeing to that!" Ethan exclaimed, pulling out a chair for Charles to sit.

"Not you." Charles made an almost disgusted sound at the back of his throat. Ethan opted to ignore it.

"Ah, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, I assume?" Ethan asked, smirking. "He is quite the catch."

"Yeah, my catch." Charles said. "And don't you forget it."

"And where is your beloved, anyway?" Ethan questioned.

"One of his students had a lunch detention." Charles replied. "The kid kept throwing rubber bands at Buffy Summers. So Wes gave him detention." Charles sighed happily. "He's so sexy when he's in charge."

"Don't tell me you were watching through the window." Ethan sneered. Charles glared at him. "What? Just a simple question. You're rather obsessive about him, I noticed."

"He's adorable! What's not to love about him?" Charles said through a mouth of food. Ethan rolled his eyes at the disgusting display and returned to observing his fellow teachers. His fellow burnt-out, in a daze, out of this world teachers.

"I do wonder what will happen when his father comes to visit." Ethan commented in an off-hand way. Charles frowned at him in confusion. "Well, it's bound to happen sooner or later. As much as the man... He likes to see how badly his son is controlling life, is all."

"How long have you known Wesley?" Charles asked.

"His family, along with mine and Rupert's, are all graduates from the same university." Ethan informed him. "Our families have known each other for quite some time."

"Which explains why you immediately started stalking Rupert the moment you stepped into the general populace." Charles snickered. "He told us about you going over to his house the night you arrived, you know."

"Did he really?" Ethan looked rather pleased about this. The Brit grinned and winked at some random teacher, who gave him an odd look. "Well what do you know, Rupert was talking about me."

"Bitching about you is more like it." Charles snorted.

"Ah, but he was thinking about me all the same." Ethan rubbed his hands together in triumph.

"You are one crazy ass man, have I ever told you that?" Charles asked, calmly.

"More than once, actually." Ethan replied.

"I think that proves my point." Charles turned toward the door as it opened, watching as Wesley yawned and headed over to their table. "Rough morning?"

"That Mr. Bradshaw is quite annoying, if I say so myself." Wesley mumbled. Charles pushed his cup of coffee toward Wesley, who sent him a soft smile in thanks.

"Which one?" Ethan asked. "Though, I have to say, they are both rather agitating. William is too smart for his own good and that Spike is... Well, there aren't appropriate words that can be used to describe him."

"It was Spike." Wesley stated, gulping down some of Charles' coffee. "Why do you suppose he goes by Spike, anyway?"

"Who knows." Charles shrugged. "Told me that was his name on the first day of last year. Hell, I've forgotten what he real name is. I just write Spike on everything."

"Well, I'm off." Ethan stood. "I'll leave you two lover birds to it, eh?"

"Going to bother Rupert?" Wesley asked in an innocent voice.

"Oh, yeah." Ethan leered.





File 30
Cordelia's Grade



Cordelia stared at the paper in her hand and for one moment felt as though the world had crumbled around her. It was silly to think that way, and she was perfectly aware of that fact. It was just a grade, after all. That, however, didn't ease her shock.

"What is this?" Cordelia asked in a sharp tone, turning in her seat. Ethan glanced up from where he was passing out the first quiz of the year's results.

"That, Ms. Chase, would be your grade." Ethan replied calmly.

"But... But..." Cordelia narrowed her eyes and waved the paper around. Willow -- who had the horrible job of being her lab partner -- darted out of the way, before she was hit in the head. "This was an evaluation quiz! It was to determine what we learned from last year. How could you give me such a grade?"

"Very simple, Ms. Chase." Ethan smirked. "You have utterly no intelligence when it comes to Chemistry. Though, I'd suspect any subject, as well."

"You have got to be kidding me!" Cordelia stared at him, her face a mixture or anger and shock. "This is a ridiculous grade! I refuse to accept it."

"Hmm, well, I'm sure there will be many things in life that you will be unable to accept." Ethan commented, his smirk widening. "However, the smart thing to do would be to learn that everything will not go your way."

"Look, buddy-" Cordelia started.

"That's Mr. Rayne, to you." Ethan interrupted. Cordelia stared up at him defiantly, but said nothing. "Excellent, now that you're finished throwing a hissy fit, perhaps we can continue our lesson?"

Anger coursed through Cordelia, erupting in her mind. She had never met a man so... Annoying, was the perfect term. He was annoying and rude and didn't respect her at all. That was not to be tolerated. He might be a teacher, but that didn't mean he had to smirk at her that way. Cordelia narrowed her eyes, her hands crumbling up the paper in her hands.

The bright red 'D' caught her attention. Her eyes focused on it, and she felt her anger boil to extremes. It was like a bull looking at a red flag. Scowling, she ignored the wide eyed look Willow was giving her, and lifting the now balled up paper in her fist. With a swing, she released it into the air. It was almost like slow motion. Her anger seemed to deflate as the paper traveled through the air.

She watched, eyes wide, as the paper first bounced on the back of Ethan's retreating head, before soaring up to bounce on the top of his skull. As Ethan turned to look, the ball of paper hit his nose and fell to the floor. Ethan slowly looked down at the paper, before his eyes raised to meet Cordelia's.

The class was silent.

Then, with jerky, angry, infuriated movements, Ethan walked to his desk. He wrote something on a slip of yellow paper, before bringing it to Cordelia's table. She winced as it was slammed down in front of her.

"You have detention after class." Ethan said, his voice almost a hiss. "Take this to your counselor. Let's see if we can do something about that anger, shall we?"

"What, now?" Cordelia asked. She was well aware that she shouldn't speak in that sort of tone, especially right then. But she couldn't help it. It was so natural to her, after all.

"Yes, now." Ethan literally growled.

"But... What if he has a class?" Cordelia asked, gathering her things.

"I have it one good authority he has a free period." Ethan told her. "Now, get out of here before I give you detention for tomorrow as well."

"Fine!" Cordelia snapped, slinging her bag onto her shoulder. "I'd rather be in Mr. Gunn's company instead of yours, anyway."

Cordelia stormed out of the room and made her way to her counselor's classroom. While she hated the idea of sharing a counselor with Xander Harris, of all people, Mr. Gunn was rather nice. At least to those who respected him. With a sigh, she knocked on his door.

"Yeah? Come in." A deep voice called through the door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you." Cordelia said as she entered the room. She handed the yellow paper to Charles. "Mr. Rayne gave me detention and told me to get out of his classroom."

"One can only wonder what you did to cause his anger." An amused voice commented. Cordelia jumped in shock at the sight of her English teacher. Wesley smiled slightly from his seat on the other side of Gunn's desk.

"You can stick round until the period is over." Charles offered. "We're just talking."

"Okay." Cordelia said, slowly. She walked over to one of the desks and sat down. She fought down a grin as the two teachers immediately began flirting with one another, as though she wasn't there. Maybe getting a detention wasn't so bad, after all.





File 31
Gym with Buffy and Xander



"Let me get this straight..." Buffy said, slowly. "You're now working at a gay strip club?"

"Yeah, that pretty much covers it." Xander nodded, tossing a basketball from one hand to the other.

All around the gym, other students were gathered around the erected basketball hoops, practicing their throws. Well, everyone except for Spike. He sat on the benches, sneering at everyone. Normally that expression fit his face, but Xander had to admit that it lost all substance when the owner of said expression was dressed in burdundy and grey gym shorts. Xander couldn't help but notice that Spike had very pale legs.

Xander blinked and forced his eyes away from Spike and back toward Buffy. From the look she was giving him, he was rather thankful that Willow had chemistry this hour and Jesse had math. He did not need Willow looking at him like that. And, of course, Jesse would just laugh.

"It's not that big of a deal." Xander insisted, dribbling the ball and then sending it her way. Buffy caught it with ease, and tossed it toward the basket. It bounced off the rim and back toward them.

"Not that big of a deal?" Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow. She caught the ball and placed it on her hip as she stared at him. "It's a strip club!"

"Well, it's not like I'm going to be stripping." Xander defended. There was a pause in the conversation as the gym teacher walked past them. Buffy dribbled the ball some more, before sending it Xander's way. He fumbled with it.

"I just can't picture you in that sort of environment." Buffy admitted.

"Trust me. Neither can I." Xander agreed. He adjusted his footing and tossed the ball toward the basket. Instead of even hitting the back, however, it flew over it and toward the benches. With wide eyes, Xander watched as it hit Spike in the shoulder.

"Bloody fucking hell!" The bleached blonde cursed, jumping up.

"Language, Mr. Bradshaw." The gym teacher scolded. "And if that reaction is anything to go by, you are fit enough to play basketball." Spike scowled. "Don't give me that look. Summers and Harris need another person anyway."

Xander sent Buffy a desperate look as Spike grumbled under his breath. Spike picked up the basketball and sauntered over to them. While he pretended to be perfectly at home in those shorts and t-shirt, Xander could tell that Spike wasn't at all comfortable. The way he held the ball as though it had leperosy spoke volumes of Spike's distaste for gym class.

"Well, now, Bradshaw." Buffy sneered. "Let's see what you've got."

"This game is barbaric." Spike stated disdainfully, sending the ball toward Buffy at high speed. She caught it easily and comfortably rested it on her hip, her sneer at full volume. "I refuse to participate in this so-called American past-time. I am not American, and therefore should not be forced to do so." The proper tone almost seemed out of place. That is, until Spike added a quick phrase. "Got it, bitch?"

"Whatever." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Uh, hey, Spike." Xander stammered. "We aren't actually playing. I mean, you just have to make a show of throwing the ball around."

Spike narrowed his eyes at him. Xander offered him a slight smile and was pleased to see Spike's lip twitch slightly.

"Great." Buffy sighed dramatically. "Just great. I'm stuck with the two lovebirds."

"Excuse me?" Spike snapped. "Bugger off, Summers."

"No, don't feel like it." Buffy replied, her lower lip jutting out slightly.

"Vapid bitch." Spike said under his breath.

"What did you call me?" Buffy demanded.

Xander let out a small sigh and snagged the ball from Buffy. It was definitely going to be a very, very long class.





File 32
Cordelia's Detention



Cordelia did not want to be there. It was one of those few days, glorious as a Thursday was, that demanded for her to be home. There was no cheerleading practice, and therefore no reason to be at school. Except, of course, the fact that she had detention.

Detention. Cordelia Chase had detention. She still couldn’t believe it. Even the words sounded wrong together.

Slowly she made her way to Mr. Rayne’s classroom, debating whether arguing her way out of this sordid affair was a wise choice. With a sigh, she opened the classroom door and was greeted by a rather interesting sight. First of all, Mr. Rayne was nowhere to be seen. Cordelia took a moment to thank God for small favors. Secondly, there was a mousey looking girl wearing those plastic chemistry glasses.

The girl, whom Cordelia could not name to save her life, held a beaker of a clear liquid in one hand and a small tube of some blue liquid. It took Cordelia a moment to comprehend the fact that this girl wasn’t there for detention, but for some other purpose. And she was obviously having a good time.

“What are you doing?” Cordelia asked, tossing her backpack onto the nearest desk. The girl jumped slightly, the blue liquid splashing out of the tube and onto the counter. The girl stared at her in horror, then sheepishly looked at the spilt material.

“Oops.” She muttered, biting her lower lip.

“Oops? There’s an oops?” Cordelia walked over and stared down at the small puddle. The liquid stared back at her, seemingly comfortable in it’s location. “There can’t be an oops. That Mr. Rayne will so blame this on me.”

“It’s shouldn’t be a problem.” The girl replied. Her voice was soft, with a slight Texan drawl. Cordelia found herself rather intrigued by the sound of it. That, and the soft blush that crept across the girl’s face. “At least, I don’t think it’s corrosive.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Cordelia ordered. To some people it would be considered begging, but Cordelia simply didn’t beg.

“I-It’s okay.” The girl stammered nervously. Cordelia watched as she began cleaning up the spill, putting away most of her supplies in the process.

“Ms. Chase, I do believe you are in detention.” Ethan pointed out as he entered the classroom a few minutes later. “This is no time for you to converse with your fellow students.”

“It was my fault, Mr. Rayne.” The girl insisted, gathering her bags. Ethan gave the girl a fond smile. Cordelia, for a brief second, felt jealous. What, was she not worth that sort of look? She was Cordelia Chase, after all!

“Very well.” Ethan replied. “Have a good evening.”

“See you tomorrow, sir.” The girl gave him a slight wave, sent Cordelia a strange look, and darted out of the room. Cordelia stared after her. It wasn’t until Ethan ordered her into her seat that she realized she hadn’t caught the girl’s name. For some reason, she couldn’t get the sound of her voice out of her head. And sitting, staring at the wall, for an hour didn’t help in that fact.

Ethan Rayne was a horrible teacher, as far as Cordelia was concerned. And she made a point to let him know this every chance she got. Whether it was a dirty look, or being rude in class. She was now using a dirty look. Ethan sat at the teacher’s desk before her, smirking slightly. Cordelia, without anything else to do with her time, stared at the various posters on the wall and thought.

For some reason she kept coming back to the girl that was in the classroom earlier. She was rather pretty, in that plain sort of way. She wasn’t exotic or glamorous. In fact, the best way to describe her was ‘Girl Next Door’. And she had a wonderful voice.

Frowning, Cordelia pushed the thoughts out of her head. There was no reason for her to be thinking of the girl at all. She wasn’t popular, just some student at peasant level.

Still… Cordelia really wished she knew her name.





File 33
Spike's Secret



Fridays were oddly repetitive, a fact that William was thankful for. He went to school, tried to avoid the jocks, and did his schoolwork. Then, during study hall, William hid in a small alcove on the side of the building. It was a perfect spot, because from there he could see into one of the classrooms. Through the window, William could spend an entire hour watching Xander Harris.

However, on this particular Friday, fates took a strange turn. As he rounded the corner, books clutching tightly to his chest, William was shocked to find his brother in his place. Spike was leaning against the wall, a small frown playing at his lips. His eyes, so similar to William’s and yet always holding a sarcastic glint, stared at the window. Inside the classroom, Xander could be seen sliding into his seat, laughing along with his friend, Willow.

“What are you doing here?” William immediately asked. It was a natural reaction to be suspicious of his brother.

“Bloody hell.” Spike muttered under his breath. For a split second, Spike looked on the verge of a blush. Almost as though he was ashamed to be there. “What do you want?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” William replied, stepping into the alcove. It was a small space, but William preferred to be pressed next to Spike as compared to standing in the direct sunlight. He received enough torment from his peers; he didn’t need a severe sunburn to add to it.

“I’m not doing anything.” Spike said in a defensive tone.

“I’m not certain as to what is more amusing: The fact that you are on the verge of blushing, or that you are almost pouting.” William informed him. He glanced toward the window, watching as Xander began to chew on his pen. It was definitely an erotic sight.

“Why don’t you go to the library or something?” Spike demanded, eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that your home away from home.”

“Contrary to your popular belief, I don’t enter the library often.” William replied, calmly. William’s eyes darted once more to Xander. It was then that William started to suspect something. While it was quite a possibility that Spike was in his personal space just to annoy him, there could also be another motive. “Are you spying on Xander?”

“Why would I want to spy on Harris for?” Spike made a disgusted face.

“Well, why else would you be here?” William asked. “I’ve never seen you over here before.”

“That’s none of your business.” Spike informed him.

“You’re hiding something.” William stated.

“Am not.” Spike snapped.

“Hmm.” William felt, for the moment, it was better to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Please.” Spike scoffed. “History is so mundane.”

“Do you even know what mundane means?” William asked innocently. Spike glared. With a sly smile, William turned back to watch Xander.

However, in the back of his mind, he was determined to find out exactly what Spike was up to. Spike was not the type of person you wanted to have plot against you. And, while William was aware that Spike would never do anything to hurt him, Spike was a little scary sometimes. It was much better to catch him before he was able to act.

Of course, that meant getting some behind the scenes information. And that meant talking to Oz.





File 34
Thou Shall Not Stalk



Buffy let out a soft sigh as she ran her hairbrush through her hair briefly. Taking a quick glance at the mirror hung in her locker, she grabbed her lunch and slammed the door shut. Pushing her way through the crowd, she managed to get to the doors relatively unscathed.

“So. Hungry.” Buffy said, literally falling into the seat next to Jesse.

“Which explains why you’re so tiny.” Jesse commented. Buffy sent him a small glare, before pulling her food out of its bag.

“Where’s Xander?” Buffy asked Willow, who sat across from them.

“He got held behind in class.” Willow replied.

“Why?”

“He was chewing on his pen, when it exploded.” Willow explained. Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Well, he was standing next to the teacher’s desk at the time.”

“Hmm.” Buffy said, looking highly amused. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned back in her seat. Her eyes scanned the area around them as she half listened to Jesse and Willow’s conversation.

It was as she took a narrowed look at the parking lot across the street that she recognized a car that belonged to a certain tall, dark, and creepy person. Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she saw movement inside the car’s darkened windows. With intense concentration, she watched the car for a few minutes. Waiting. Simply waiting for some proof to her suspicion. Then, there it was. The window rolled down a few inches and Buffy was able to recognize the over hanging forehead.

“I can’t believe it.” Buffy said in a cold tone.

“Can’t believe what?” Xander asked, sliding into the seat next to Willow.

“He’s come to my school. My stalker has officially stepped over a boundary!” Buffy exclaimed, standing. Willow, Jesse, and Xander watched in shock as she threw her fist into the air and began yelling. “You hear me, Angel! I won’t take this lying down! I refuse to submit to your demands!”

Buffy watched with satisfaction as the window rolled up and, minutes later, the car peeled out of the parking lot. With a smug look on her face, Buffy sat down to finish her lunch, ignoring the odd looks she was receiving.

“Wow, that was entertaining.” Xander finally said.

“He’s really starting to piss me off, you know.” Buffy insisted. “For a while it was flattering, but now? It’s really weird and… Just weird!”

“But it turns you on.” Jesse stated. Xander hid a smile, while Willow looked shocked.

“It does not.” Buffy glared, though a soft blush was creeping up her neck.

“It’s still wrong.” Willow piped up. “It’s against the law, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, hey!” Xander grinned. “Maybe you should get a restraining order.”

While Xander obviously meant it as a tease, Buffy developed a speculative look. A look that often sent those with common sense running for the hills. A look that was usually followed by Buffy doing something that was against school policy. A look that said that, yes, she was going to do something weird and possibly naughty, but she would so get away with it.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to go to the library.” Buffy announced.

“Why?” Jesse asked.

“To type up a fake restraining order, of course.” Buffy replied with a perky grin.





File 35
Investigating Spike



Warning: Drug use.

Oz was completely unaware of the world around him and the fact that destiny was about to act. No, he was more worried about where he had placed his bag of weed. He had spent most of his lunch hour searching for it. From his locker, to his van, to even his gym shorts! The weed was nowhere to be found. And, heaven only knew, he couldn’t go to class clean.

Just as he was crawling underneath his passenger side seat, he became aware of a presence. He ignored it for a moment, wiggling around with his butt stuck in the air. Then, with triumph, he pulled out a small sandwich bag. Face flushed from his workout, Oz turned to see William standing at the van’s open door.

“Hey.” Oz greeted, walking around the van. He opened the back door and climbed inside. With a wave of his hand, he gestured William to follow. William paused a moment, before crawling in after him.

“I need to ask you something.” William informed him, jumping slightly as Oz shut the door. A tiny light bulb on the ceiling and the dim light from the front windows gave the van a rather musty look. William watched as Oz pulled out a small tray and began pulling bits of hard things out of the weed. William had no clue as to why, so he refrained from asking.

“Hmm?” Was Oz’s reply.

“Well… It’s about Spike. I think he’s up to something.” William informed him. “He’s been watching Xander a lot as of late and-“

“Here.” Oz interrupted, handing William a freshly rolled joint. William stared at it in confusion.

“Anyway, I’m really worried about what he might do to Xander.” William continued, watching as Oz dug around for his lighter. “It’s not like he actually likes him.”

“You’d be surprised.” Oz commented, retrieving his lighter and joint.

“What is that suppose to mean?” William demanded. Oz eyed him behind a small cloud of whitish smoke.

“What do you think it means?” Oz returned.

“It gives me the impression that Spike likes Xander.” William said in all honesty. Oz took another drag of his joint, before calmly blowing the smoke in William’s direction. William fought down a cough.

“I tell no lies.” Oz stated. William stared. He had no idea as to what that meant.

“Then tell me the truth.” William replied.

“Here.” Oz turned the joint toward him. William quickly shook his head in decline. Oz tilted his head, staring at him a moment, before speaking. “Sometimes you need to let go.”

William hesitated a moment, before reaching for the joint. It was tiny, slender, and fit between his index finger and thumb perfectly. Almost like a pen, except it wasn’t a pen. Pens and pencils made William feel relaxed. This made William feel nervous and afraid that he would make a fool of himself.

“Don’t worry about Spike.” Oz said, leaning against the side of the van. Oz watched with intensity as William brought the joint to his lips.

The smoke first invaded his mouth, but sliding down his throat and into his lungs. He tried to do what he had seen Oz do many times. But holding the smoke in his lungs proved to be impossible. Gagging, William moved to hand the joint back to Oz.

“Give it another go.” Oz offered, pulling out his bag of weed. William did as he was instructed, bringing the joint once more to his lips. Across from him, Oz set about rolling another one.





File 36
A Little Fried



Warning: The effects of drug use. And, note, I’m basing Williams first ‘high’ experience a little off my own.

Xander was used to seeing Oz’s van open with a billow of smoke. It was an everyday occurrence since ninth grade. So, Xander didn’t think much of it when he stepped past the van and the back door flew open. What made Xander stop, however, was who stepped out of it.

William Bradshaw wasn’t the type to get high. He wasn’t the type to say curse words. He wasn’t the type to skip class. He wasn’t the type to do anything that would draw attention to himself. And did Xander mention that he wasn’t the type to get high?

And yet, there he was. Stumbling out of Oz’s van with a bright smile, giggling like a schoolgirl. There was something seriously wrong with this picture. Xander came to a halt, glancing briefly at an equally stoned Oz, before staring at William as though he had two heads. William blinked up at the bright sun, before spotting Xander.

“Xander! It’s Xander.” William exclaimed, walking forward. Well, it was more like a skip than an actual walk.

“Umm, hi.” Xander greeted.

“Xander. Xander. Xander.” William muttered. Xander could only stare as William reached out to trail a hand down his arm. For some reason, he felt a blush reach his face and quickly glanced once more at Oz. The stoner gave him a look, some sort of cross between a glare and indifference.

“Yeah. That’s me… I’m Xander.” Xander replied nervously.

“You are so sexy.” William informed him. “I think you’re sexy. Don’t you think he’s sexy, Oz?”

“He’s… something.” Oz replied, eyes narrowed. William grinned back at him, before grabbing a hold of Xander’s sleeve. It was obvious that William was completely oblivious to the expression on Oz’s face.

“Xander.” William said again. “I really like your name.” The young writer giggled. “Xaaaannndeerrr.” Another giggle. “You know what?”

“Uh… What?”

“I think Spike likes you.” William pouted. “I don’t want him to like you. If he likes you then that means I can’t like you. Because Spike always gets what he wants. Always. And I’ll never get to have you now because you like Spike. Don’t you like Spike? I like Spike. He’s my brother. Do you know what his real name is?”

“No…” Xander replied. Never before had he heard someone babble that much. Except Willow, of course.

“His name is…” William trailed off, before suddenly bursting out loud. “Clarence! His name is Clarence. He doesn’t look like a Clarence. Do I look like a Clarence?”

“Not really.” Xander said. William’s hand was now venturing up his arm, his grip almost desperate. Xander gulped and shot Oz another look. Oz’s eyes were focused on William’s hand.

“You know what?” William asked in mock whisper. “I think I’m a little stoned.”

“Yeah. I’d say so.” Xander agreed.

“I don’t think I like it much.” William said. “But Oz wanted me to and I like Oz. Don’t you like Oz? Everyone needs to like Oz. Oz is kind of cute, too. But don’t tell him I said that, okay?”

“Right-O.” Xander replied. Behind William, Oz began to smile slightly. “Uh, well, I have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” William said, giving him a bright grin. However, he didn’t let go of Xander’s arm.

Xander slowly removed William’s hand and took a step back. He ignored Oz’s stare, which was once again a strange form of jealousy. Shaking his head, he turned and began walking away. First, he became an employee at a gay strip club and now, he encountered a fried William. Xander’s life sure was strange.





File 37
Dirty Dancing



Charles forced the silly grin off his face and casually leaned against the brick wall. Teenagers and young adults milled past him, entering the Bronze. It’s throbbing music caused the wall against his back to vibrate slightly. Charles noticed odd looks he was receiving from a few of his own students, but opted to ignore them. That is, until he overheard a conversation between Buffy Summers and some caveman.

"I don't believe it." The man said, looking down at a piece paper.

"You better believe it, buddy!" Buffy said in triumph. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you are currently violating the restraining order. So, get lost."

Charles snickered as Buffy stormed off, leaving the man looking confused as ever.

"What's so funny?" Wesley's cultured voice asked.

Charles turned to inform his date, but found his voice suddenly caught in his throat. Wesley stood next him, looking for all the world as uncomfortable has he had ever been in his life. He was dressed in a dark t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. While Charles was perfectly aware that Wesley wore it as a way to blend into the dark shadows. Too bad Wesley didn't realize that in those tight clothes, he looked like sex itself.

"Oh, boy." Charles gulped. He felt inadequately dressed, in a pair of baggy jeans and plain white t-shirt.

"What?" Wesley asked, shifting slightly.

"Uh, nothing." Charles smiled and grabbed a hold of Wesley's hand. "Come on."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Wesley asked, nervously. They approached the door, where Charles paid the entrance fee. Charles paused before entering, taking a moment to look Wesley up and down.

"Oh, hell, yeah." Charles grinned.

"I was afraid you would say that." Wesley sighed, allowing Charles to pull him into the building.

The club was hot and sweaty due to the packed bodies. A thumping, trance-like beat filled the air and caused the floor to vibrate beneath their feet. Charles felt completely at home. The feel of bodies bumping against his and laughter filling the air. This was the core of urban life, and Charles could admit that he had missed it. Wesley, however, look as though he were about to run for cover.

"Hey. Calm down." Charles aid, slipping his arm around Wesley's waist. At the contact, Wesley visibly relaxed. "Let's go dance."

"Are you certain?" Wesley asked, his voice squeaking.

"Yup." Charles grinned once more and ushered Wesley toward the dance floor.

They managed to find a free space. Around them unknown bodies danced. Charles ignored the other dancers and immediately lost himself in the beat. His eyes remained on Wesley's, who stood there as stiff as a board. Charles shook his head, smiling, and slipped an arm around Wesley's waist once again. Wesley gravitated toward him, pressing their bodies together. The Brit's head rested on Charles' shoulder.

"Just let go, man." Charles said into his ear. He could feel Wesley take a deep breath.

Then, Wesley began to move. It took Wesley a few seconds to find the beat, but then his body was suddenly moving in sync with Charles'. They were still pressed against one another, their chest brushing with each movement. Charles had to bite back a small moan as Wesley managed to move closer.

It was like sex, Charles realized, only among people and fully dressed. Wesley pulled his head back, his face flushed and his glasses askew. Their eyes locked. Charles wrapped his other arm around Wesley. A shiver ran down Charles' spine as Wesley let out a soft groan. Their bodies continued to move, the beat surrounding them and blocking out the rest of the world. And as Charles' hand slid down Wesley's back, Wesley leaned forward and kissed him.

Charles had had a few lovers in his lifetime, but none had kissed him like Wesley was kissing him now. Passion filled his being as Wesley’s tongue slipped into his mouth and simply dominated him. Charles' hand continued it's journey and rested on the curve of Wesley's ass. Through the tight denim he could literally feel Wesley's muscles move with each rotation on his hips.

But then the song ended, and another came on. This time it was a rock song, which made Charles cringe slightly. There was no way he could dance to something like that. Reluctantly, he pulled back from Wesley, who whimpered at the loss of contact. Wesley slowly opened his eyes and licked his lips.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance?" Charles teased, pulling him off of the dance floor. The two men slumped into the nearest cushion chair together, panting slightly.

"That was dancing?" Wesley asked, looking perfectly shocked.

"Well, humping to the sound of music. But, yeah, dancing." Charles replied with a slight leer. Wesley turned even redder than he already was, but said nothing. Instead, he scooted even closer to Charles and rested his head on Charles' shoulder.





File 38
Hey, That's My Butt!



Xander stared at the mildly crowded room, shocked to see there were this many gays in Sunnydale. He carefully tightened the apron around his waist and lifted the tray off the bar. He sent the bartender a slight smile, who smirked in reply, before heading toward the smoke-filled tables. He carefully balanced the tray in his hands, hoping he wouldn't spill the large tumbler filled with vodka or the bright yellow drink that he couldn't identify.

He forced himself to ignore the hand that had just slid across his buttocks. It had been happening all night. If he wasn't being given numbers by large, burly men, then he was getting his ass pinched. Taking a deep breath, and then forcing himself not to cough, Xander approached one of the tables near the stage. Hoping to get in and then out in ten seconds flat, Xander placed the drinks on the table and turned to leave.

"Hey, cutie, where do you think you're going?" The tall man asked. Xander yelped as a strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the man's lap. The man's friend watched with a slight frown, but said nothing.

"Umm, e-excuse me." Xander stammered, trying to stand up. "I really should be-"

"Nonsense." The man grinned, pulling Xander even closer. Xander froze, unsure of what to do. "You just got here."

"Whoa! Hands!" Xander squeaked as he felt the man's hand attempt to slide into his pants. "Hey! That's my butt you're fondling. Stop."

"Hmm, why should I?" The man asked into his ear.

"Warren, leave him alone." The man's friend said softly. Warren tightened his grip on Xander's waist.

"No. I don't think I will." Warren replied, his voice sounding a bit like a whine. Xander let out an annoyed growl and shoved away from Warren. However, this caused him to lose his balance, and he fell to the floor in a thump. Xander glared up at Warren as the man let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, God, are you okay?" Warren's friend asked, rushing around the table to help him up. This allowed Xander to get a better look at him. He wasn't much more than a kid, around Xander's age. His big blue eyes and innocent expression made him look even younger.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Xander stood and straightened his clothes. He picked up the fallen tray and turned away from the table without another word.

With a sigh, Xander continued his work. It wasn't that bad. Excluding the men that acted like Warren had, most were rather friendly. And even with the men that opted to fondle Xander in plain view, it wasn't so bad. When Xander would finally get away, he usually found a large tip stuffed into his back pocket.

It was getting late and Xander shift was almost over. With a yawn, Xander took out his last drink. As usual he avoided looking at the strippers, knowing he would turn bright red at the sight. Finally, as the clock struck one a.m., Xander pulled off his apron and made his way to Riley's office. Before he could get to the door, however, he found someone blocking his path. It was Warren's friend.

"Uh, hi." Xander greeted with a frown.

"Hi." The man -- no, more like boy -- replied. "I just wanted to apologize for my, uh, friend's behavior earlier."

"Oh, hey, no problem." Xander said, his frown turning into a smile.

"It was really rude of him. Anyway, uh, I'm Andrew and... Yeah, that's all I wanted to say." Andrew shifted slightly. "I'll let you go now."

Xander watched as Andrew literally ran back to Warren's side. Warren turned and said something to Andrew, who winced in response. Xander frowned slightly at Andrew's reaction. Shaking his head and deciding it was none of his business, Xander knocked on Riley's door. He entered the office and quickly clocked out.

"Well, boy?" Riley asked, leaning back in his chair. "What do you think?"

"A job's a job." Xander shrugged. "It'll do."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow night." Riley said, giving him a friendly smile.

Xander grabbed his things and quickly left through the back entrance. The streets were dark, except a few random people. Xander walked fast, but not too fast. Honestly, he was in no hurry to go home. The streets were probably safer, at any rate. All too soon, he found himself standing in front of his house. Through the front window he could see the glow of the television screen. Hoping to avoid his father, he hurried around the house. Climbing one of the trees with ease, he pushed himself up onto the second floor and eased his window open. Then, making hardly any noise, he got ready for bed.





File 39
Ritual, Interrupted



The one thing Rupert could count on in life was that Saturday mornings were all the same. He woke up at 8:34 exactly, then proceeded to shower. Once this was complete, he would fix himself a traditional English breakfast. Afterwards, he would enjoy a little light reading and possibly call his mother. It was the same every Saturday. He liked it that way. It was perfect. Wonderful, even.

But of course things didn't always work out the way they were suppose to. Much to Rupert's horror, today was the day things didn't work out. First, there was a call from Joyce Summers regarding a Writer's Club and a Talent Show. It took him nearly an hour to get off the phone. That woman was, for lack of a better word, stubborn. Her behavior explained Buffy's personality, to say the least.

The second interruption came with a knock on his door. The fact that he was having an actual visitor should have clued him in on how wise it would have been to not answer the door. But, even Rupert Giles made mistakes. And a mistake he indeed made.

"May I-" Rupert started, opening his door. He stared at the man standing at his doorstep in shock. Though, really, who else could it have been? Ethan Rayne had visited him at home once before, after all. Well, breaking and entering was the more correct term. "What do you want?"

"Why, Rupert, can't a fellow meet up with a friend?" Ethan asked, his face nearly succeeding in being innocent. Rupert wasn't fooled, however.

"I asked you a question, Ethan." Rupert said. "What do you want?"

"Honestly, Rupert, I just thought I'd stop over for a cup of tea." Ethan informed him.

"You truly are a thorn in my side." Rupert commented as Ethan literally pushed his way inside. He quickly went to the kitchen, Ethan following, and poured the other man some tea from the what he had brewed that morning. Setting it down in front of Ethan, Rupert gave him a dark look. "There. Tea. Now drink it and get out."

"I don't see why you have to be so... Rude." Ethan muttered, taking a sip. He eyed the liquid. "It is rather bitter, isn't it?"

"Terribly sorry." Rupert replied with no sincerity. "Would you prefer me to place it under ice and add sugar like the Yanks do?"

"Now, now. No need for prejudice, dear Rupert." Ethan said with a smirk.

"The only thing I'm prejudice against is annoying creatures like you." Rupert snapped. Ethan blinked up at him, a look of pure shock and a bit of hurt dancing across his face. Rupert grumbled under his breath and stormed into the living room, only to sit down on the sofa and stare at the bookshelf. After a few minutes, he heard Ethan follow him.

"I had no idea you felt that strongly about me." Ethan said, sitting down next to him..

Rupert refused to look at him. He knew the look that was most definitely on Ethan's face. It was the same look that had caused Rupert to become friends with him in college, when they shared a dorm. It was the sort of look that made you want to drop everything and comfort him. At university, he had no qualms about comforting Ethan Rayne, because at the time all he knew was that the man was the annoying son of a friend of the family. Right now, however, he didn't want to give into the temptation and instead tried his best to ignore Ethan.

"I suppose I should leave you alone." Ethan continued. "I..." There was a pause. "Bloody hell. Rupert, you damn well know why I act the way I do around you. You know how I feel. So, I'm fucking sorry that I offend you with my intentions."

Rupert could feel the sofa shift as Ethan stood.

"I know I'm not perfect. I know that I'm an annoying git that shouldn't be allowed to teach, let alone be near people." Ethan said in a cold voice. "I heard it enough at school, remember? I can take other people treating me like I'm worthless, because sometimes they are right. But once thing I can't take is my best friend, whom I love with all my heart, treating me like I'm nothing but a cockroach."

Rupert winced and turned to look up at Ethan. But the other man was already gone. In typical Ethan style, his stormed out of Rupert's home, door swinging shut with a loud slam. It was so like him to make everything ten times more dramatic than it already was. Scowling, Rupert got to his feet and went to the kitchen to clean up Ethan's empty cup of tea.

And he dutifully ignored the strange feeling clenching at his chest.





File 40
Willow and Buffy's Lunch



"God, you look like crap." Buffy announced, staring at her friend. Willow blinked up at her slowly. With a slight frown, Buffy slid into the booth across from her friend. "Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah." Willow yawned and gestured for the waitress. They quickly ordered a small lunch. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Willow." Buffy said in exasperation. "You weren't on the internet all night again, were you?"

"Only until two." Willow mumbled, blushing slightly. Buffy grinned rather evilly, which wasn't much different than her normal grin, and leaned forward as though anticipating some sort of secret. Willow stared back at her, frowning slightly. "What?"

"Well? What were you doing on there?" Buffy asked, her grin turning truly wicked.

"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed, her blush growing darker. And, naturally, with every embarrassing moment came a spot of babble. "It's nothing like that! I don't do those sorts of things on the internet. There are more entertaining things that porn sites. And don't give me that look! I know that's exactly what you were thinking. It's just not true. If you really want to know what I was doing... Well, I was talking to this guy via instant message. He seemed really nice and the next thing I knew, it was two in the morning."

"So, you were talking to some guy?" Buffy asked slowly. Her eyebrow raised slowly. "Are you sure that's wise? I mean, look at all those kidnappings you hear about on the news. And, wow, my mom told me about this one guy who was pretending to be a fifteen year old girl who liked Pokemon in order to get pre-teen boys to meet up with him."

"Okay, ew." Willow replied, making a disgusted face.

"I'm just saying, is all." Buffy leaned back in her seat and watched as the waitress approached with their drinks. Buffy took a sip of her coke before continuing. "You never know what's out there."

"Yes. Of course." Willow said solemnly. "Trust no one. The truth is out there."

"That's not what I meant." Buffy rolled her eyes.

"I know." Willow smiled sweetly. "But he was nice and I could just tell that he was an actual person, Buffy. Okay, a little twisted. He had a bizarre sense of humor that kind of reminded me of Jesse and Xander."

"That's a scary thought." Buffy commented.

"No it's not..." Willow paused. "Well, maybe a little."

"Well, as long as you don't go parading off to meet this fellow, I suppose I'll approve." Buffy informed her. "He can't be any worse than Angel, after all."

"God, what is up with that guy?" Willow giggled. "He's obsessed and totally stalking you, but it's not just that. He's bad at it! I mean, you see him every single time."

"Yeah, but I'm brilliant like that." Buffy informed her, her face showing no sign that she was joking. Which didn't shock Willow that much. Buffy was, after all, very full of herself. Sometimes it got annoying, but usually it was just part of her charm. "Still, the man needs to get a clue. He actually believed the whole restraining order act. The look on his face..." Buffy sighed happily. "I'll be enjoying that one for a while."

"Yeah, but do you think it will last?" Willow asked.

"We'll see." Buffy shrugged. "If not, I'm sure I can come up with something else to torment him with. After all, you don't mess with a Summers gal."

"Yeah, you girls are firecrackers." Willow grinned, thinking of all the things that Buffy and her mother had done to the community since moving there. The two were like a hurricane, they left no place untouched when on a rampage.

"Especially toward the oppressive men of our time." Buffy nodded. "And most especially pathetic little stalker boys that cry when you tell them they can't come within thirty feet of you."

"Ah, yes. Another day passed, another life broken." Willow announced.

"Here, here." Buffy raised her glass and clinked it with Willow.





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