Chapter 9
A Touch Of The Poet
"No way! Not a chance in hell," said Spike.
"Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top," Buffy pleaded.
Buffy pouted at him.
"Sorry that's not going to work on me, pout away all you like," he replied.
"But it's for a good cause, you want me to fail my course?" she asked.
"Course not, just don't fancy the idea of 30 spotty kids gawping at me like a side show at a circus, that's all,"
Buffy sighed sadly and turned her back to him.
"Buffy?" he asked.
No answer, he let out an impatient sigh and turned her round to face him. Tears trickled down her face; he wiped them away with the tips of his thumbs.
"If it means that much to you, when and where do you want me?" he said defeated.
Buffy gave him a brilliant smile and hugged him.
"Tuesday afternoon, right before lunch," she said happily.
"Careful there slayer, will be hard for me to come to your poetry thing with a couple of broken ribs," he said.
He had the distinct feeling he had just been very badly emotionally black mailed. He always had hated the sight of tears on his lady, whether it was Buffy or Dru. God! He really was love's bitch he thought to himself.
"So how's the poem coming along? Is it an epic tale about how hot I am?" he asked.
"Hot, you're more like room temperature," she giggled.
"You're always trying to get a rise out of me," he said huffily.
"Well that's not very hard is it?" she asked.
"Well it could be, with a little help" Spike said seductively.
"Sorry no snugglies, I have an assignment to finish," she told him sternly.
He pouted at her, hoping to get to her to cave, the same way he had.
"Sorry William," she said blowing him a kiss and disappearing below stairs.
He'd never understand women if he lived a thousand years, he thought to himself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in the middle of their bed, a growing mound of screwed up paper balls surrounded her. She sighed,
"When you gonna face the fact Buffy Lovejoy, you suck at poetry?" she asked herself aloud.
Buffy turned as she heard someone coming down the ladder. She smiled as she saw it was Willow.
"Talking to yourself Buffy? Ya know it's the first sign of madness, but then you are married to Spike," she joked.
Buffy frowned.
"Just kidding Buff honestly," said Willow.
"It's not that, I have two days to write a poem about Spike and not shame him or myself, it's hard especially with Spike being a poet himself," said Buffy.
"Oh right, maybe in another lifetime," Willow giggled.
"You could kinda say that, when he was William the human, said he'd even been published," said Buffy.
"You're serious? Why don't you ask him to help you?" asked Willow
"I wanna do this on my own, you know?" asked Buffy
Buffy looked at Willow.
"Know any poetry spells?" she asked.
Willow looked at Buffy
"Thought you wanted to do this on your own, anyway magic has kinda been a non event for me lately," Said Willow.
"You're not STILL stressing over your last fiasco, are you?" asked Buffy.
"Thanks for being tact girl, It's just I haven't got a very good track record, my spells are always messing things up," said Willow.
"Hey don't be so hard on yourself, we all make mistakes," said Buffy.
"Not like mine," said Willow.
"True! Where's Oz?" Buffy replied.
"Oh he's upstairs with Spike," said Willow.
"Bet their just getting along like a house on fire," said Buffy.
"Well at the first sign of smoke you're calling 911, not me," Said Willow.
"Fair enough," smiled Buffy.
Willow looked around Buffy and Spike's bedroom.
"Cosy in a gothic horror sorta a way," said Willow approvingly.
"Thanks, Spike did it all himself," said Buffy proudly.
Willows gaze was fixed on the far wall.
"Nice chains, what are they for," she asked.
Buffy flushed.
"Oh nuthin' about this poem," said Buffy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Spike and Oz sat above stairs in awkward silence. Oz looked around the room, Spike shifted about in his seat, desperately trying to think of something to say. What did you say to the guy, whose girl you had once kidnapped? Then there was that nasty business last year with the gem of Amara, real non-icebreakers in any one's opinion. Spike decided to stick to the safe subjects.
"Enjoyed your gig last week mate," said Spike.
"Thanks, although it wasn't that great, six months away and anyone would be out of practice," said Oz.
"No it was good really," Spike replied.
"Thanks," muttered Oz
Another couple of minutes passed uncomfortably.
"Can I ask you a favour?" said Spike
"You can, but it depends what it is," said Oz, warily.
"Well, I wasn't going to ask you if you wanted to murder half of Europe, besides already done that," grinned Spike.
Oz raised an eyebrow.
"When are you playing at the Bronze again?" Spike asked.
"Some time next month, why?" asked Oz.
"Buffy and I have been together a year next month, thanks to the Wicca, wanted to mark the occasion, wondered if I could sing a little something with the band, for Buffy," said Spike hopefully.
"You?" said Oz incredulously.
"Yeah, Buffy likes my voice, I have to believe her, she does not lie, well not any more," said Spike.
Oz considered his request for a moment.
"Well, you will have to try out and Devon being lead singer has the final say, you can come to our rehearsals, we practice mainly on the weekend, and no funny business," said Oz.
"Thanks, and you don't have to worry, Spike's a good puppy now, well sort of," he said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in her poetry class, nervously chewing her lip. After wasting enough paper to make a whole tree, she'd finally managed to piece something together. She just hoped Spike would like it. Buffy glanced at her watch, there were only two other students that had to read before her, ok she didn't exactly consider her self a word smith, but after having to sit through a lame poem about Reece Witherspoon's bouncy blonde hair, she felt ready to slay the entire class, that and plus the fact a certain peroxided vampire was still a no show.
He would be here, she believed in him when he'd promised to attend, she was just worried that Giles had somehow screwed it up, he was Spike's ride to the college. It wasn't like Giles had anything better to do, since the high school had gone bang, she thought resentfully to herself.
She sat lost in her thoughts, when the professor called out her name, she didn't hear him at first.
"Ms Lovejoy," he repeated loudly, causing several of the other students to giggle.
"Uh, sorry," she apologised.
Buffy pulled the folded sheets of paper from her bag and made her way to the front of the class. She looked at the door again and looked ahead at the class, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She opened her mouth, about to speak, when Spike came crashing through the door.
"Sorry I'm late, had car trouble," he said looking at Buffy.
Buffy beamed back at him.
"Before I start, this is my husband, William Lovejoy and my poem is about him," she said proudly.
A couple of girls in the front row let out dreamy sighs.
"Oh that's so cute," said another girl.
Buffy cleared her throat; she looked at Spike as she began.
I thank the stars you were sent to me, For you and I were meant to be, We have a bond too strong to break, We have a love no one can take.
In you I have found a love so true, That my heart is bursting with love for you, Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat, You make me whole, and my life complete.
My love for you grows more each day, The thought of your gorgeous face, takes my breath away, Those blue eyes fill my soul with happiness, Those luscious lips I long to kiss.
The day when I became your wife, Was the happiest of my life, Thinking of that day, makes me smile, I'm so glad that I walked down that aisle, For on that day a dream came true.
For always and forever, I will love you.
The class was silent.
"Um that's it," said Buffy uncomfortably.
The group of girls in the front row, began clapping enthusiastically.
"Thank you Ms Lovejoy, very good, although, I'm not sure if it was your poetry that impressed every one or, you're ahem, visual aid," said her professor, raising an eyebrow at the class.
Spike had been moved by Buffy's poem, he had to resist the urge to kiss her right there and then, so he contented himself by squeezing her hand.
Buffy looked at her teacher.
"Is it okay if William stays for the rest of the lecture?" asked Buffy.
The professor looked around the room at the hopeful female faces.
"Well as long as he's not too distracting," he said.
"Oh, his accent is so sexy, Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?" asked a red faced girl in the seat next to Buffy's
Spike grinned and winked at the girl. Buffy frowned and elbowed Spike in the ribs; he looked at Buffy and mouthed a silent "Ow" at her.
"What was that for? You don't have to be jealous baby, you know you're the only one who gets me hot," he whispered in her ear.
Spike's hand rested on Buffy's knee under the table, making slow circular movements on the bare flesh, Buffy's face flushed, her breathing started to quicken as his hand rested on her thigh. Her teacher looked at her.
"Are you okay Ms Lovejoy, you're looking a little hot and bothered, would you like to be excused?" asked her teacher.
"Yes she would mate," said Spike grabbing up her books and quickly shoving them in her bag, he took her hand and hauled her down the aisle of the class.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They stood outside the class; Spike looked at her and grinned.
"You're evil," she said.
"That's what I keep telling you luv," he said
"Last time I bring you to college," she pouted.
"Why?" he asked
"Did you see they way all those girls were looking at you?" Buffy asked
"Yeah, a couple of them grabbed my ass as we went by, one even tried to give me her phone number," said Spike smugly.
"Right that's it!" she said
She grabbed him by the collar of his leather duster and pulled him along until she found the place she was looking for, the janitor's storeroom.
"In there!" she demanded.
"I unlive to obey," mocked Spike entering the dark room.
Buffy switched on the light and locked the door behind them.
"Think you need a little reminding just whose guy you are," said Buffy pushing him down on an upturned bucket.
"Like the romantic setting love, not complaining here, your poetry got me pretty hot, want to kiss my "luscious lips"? He asked quoting her poem.
"Oh I have every intention of doing that and more before I am finished with you," said Buffy.
"Giles is waiting for me," said Spike.
"Oh like you care," said Buffy.
"True, now tell me again what you think of my blue eyes," he replied grabbing a hold of her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Forrest sat in Walsh's office, listening intently on his headset. He started as the professor came in.
"A little more discretion soldier, I could have been a civilian," she berated him.
Forrest slipped the earpiece from his ear.
"Any thing new to report?" she asked.
"Hostile 17 is still on campus, Buffy wrote him a lovely poem," sighed Forrest
Professor Walsh frowned
"Keep your mind on the mission, Agent Gates," said Walsh hard-heartedly.
Walsh exited her office; Forrest resisted the urge to make a face at her as she left. He slipped his headset on again, and quickly pulled it off when he heard the sounds coming from it.
Dammit, those two were like bunnies in heat, he thought disgustedly to himself, but he was kinda starting to like them, this mission was beginning to weigh heavily on his conscience, but he was a guy to follow orders, wasn't he?
TBC
A Touch Of The Poet
"No way! Not a chance in hell," said Spike.
"Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top," Buffy pleaded.
Buffy pouted at him.
"Sorry that's not going to work on me, pout away all you like," he replied.
"But it's for a good cause, you want me to fail my course?" she asked.
"Course not, just don't fancy the idea of 30 spotty kids gawping at me like a side show at a circus, that's all,"
Buffy sighed sadly and turned her back to him.
"Buffy?" he asked.
No answer, he let out an impatient sigh and turned her round to face him. Tears trickled down her face; he wiped them away with the tips of his thumbs.
"If it means that much to you, when and where do you want me?" he said defeated.
Buffy gave him a brilliant smile and hugged him.
"Tuesday afternoon, right before lunch," she said happily.
"Careful there slayer, will be hard for me to come to your poetry thing with a couple of broken ribs," he said.
He had the distinct feeling he had just been very badly emotionally black mailed. He always had hated the sight of tears on his lady, whether it was Buffy or Dru. God! He really was love's bitch he thought to himself.
"So how's the poem coming along? Is it an epic tale about how hot I am?" he asked.
"Hot, you're more like room temperature," she giggled.
"You're always trying to get a rise out of me," he said huffily.
"Well that's not very hard is it?" she asked.
"Well it could be, with a little help" Spike said seductively.
"Sorry no snugglies, I have an assignment to finish," she told him sternly.
He pouted at her, hoping to get to her to cave, the same way he had.
"Sorry William," she said blowing him a kiss and disappearing below stairs.
He'd never understand women if he lived a thousand years, he thought to himself.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in the middle of their bed, a growing mound of screwed up paper balls surrounded her. She sighed,
"When you gonna face the fact Buffy Lovejoy, you suck at poetry?" she asked herself aloud.
Buffy turned as she heard someone coming down the ladder. She smiled as she saw it was Willow.
"Talking to yourself Buffy? Ya know it's the first sign of madness, but then you are married to Spike," she joked.
Buffy frowned.
"Just kidding Buff honestly," said Willow.
"It's not that, I have two days to write a poem about Spike and not shame him or myself, it's hard especially with Spike being a poet himself," said Buffy.
"Oh right, maybe in another lifetime," Willow giggled.
"You could kinda say that, when he was William the human, said he'd even been published," said Buffy.
"You're serious? Why don't you ask him to help you?" asked Willow
"I wanna do this on my own, you know?" asked Buffy
Buffy looked at Willow.
"Know any poetry spells?" she asked.
Willow looked at Buffy
"Thought you wanted to do this on your own, anyway magic has kinda been a non event for me lately," Said Willow.
"You're not STILL stressing over your last fiasco, are you?" asked Buffy.
"Thanks for being tact girl, It's just I haven't got a very good track record, my spells are always messing things up," said Willow.
"Hey don't be so hard on yourself, we all make mistakes," said Buffy.
"Not like mine," said Willow.
"True! Where's Oz?" Buffy replied.
"Oh he's upstairs with Spike," said Willow.
"Bet their just getting along like a house on fire," said Buffy.
"Well at the first sign of smoke you're calling 911, not me," Said Willow.
"Fair enough," smiled Buffy.
Willow looked around Buffy and Spike's bedroom.
"Cosy in a gothic horror sorta a way," said Willow approvingly.
"Thanks, Spike did it all himself," said Buffy proudly.
Willows gaze was fixed on the far wall.
"Nice chains, what are they for," she asked.
Buffy flushed.
"Oh nuthin' about this poem," said Buffy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Spike and Oz sat above stairs in awkward silence. Oz looked around the room, Spike shifted about in his seat, desperately trying to think of something to say. What did you say to the guy, whose girl you had once kidnapped? Then there was that nasty business last year with the gem of Amara, real non-icebreakers in any one's opinion. Spike decided to stick to the safe subjects.
"Enjoyed your gig last week mate," said Spike.
"Thanks, although it wasn't that great, six months away and anyone would be out of practice," said Oz.
"No it was good really," Spike replied.
"Thanks," muttered Oz
Another couple of minutes passed uncomfortably.
"Can I ask you a favour?" said Spike
"You can, but it depends what it is," said Oz, warily.
"Well, I wasn't going to ask you if you wanted to murder half of Europe, besides already done that," grinned Spike.
Oz raised an eyebrow.
"When are you playing at the Bronze again?" Spike asked.
"Some time next month, why?" asked Oz.
"Buffy and I have been together a year next month, thanks to the Wicca, wanted to mark the occasion, wondered if I could sing a little something with the band, for Buffy," said Spike hopefully.
"You?" said Oz incredulously.
"Yeah, Buffy likes my voice, I have to believe her, she does not lie, well not any more," said Spike.
Oz considered his request for a moment.
"Well, you will have to try out and Devon being lead singer has the final say, you can come to our rehearsals, we practice mainly on the weekend, and no funny business," said Oz.
"Thanks, and you don't have to worry, Spike's a good puppy now, well sort of," he said.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy sat in her poetry class, nervously chewing her lip. After wasting enough paper to make a whole tree, she'd finally managed to piece something together. She just hoped Spike would like it. Buffy glanced at her watch, there were only two other students that had to read before her, ok she didn't exactly consider her self a word smith, but after having to sit through a lame poem about Reece Witherspoon's bouncy blonde hair, she felt ready to slay the entire class, that and plus the fact a certain peroxided vampire was still a no show.
He would be here, she believed in him when he'd promised to attend, she was just worried that Giles had somehow screwed it up, he was Spike's ride to the college. It wasn't like Giles had anything better to do, since the high school had gone bang, she thought resentfully to herself.
She sat lost in her thoughts, when the professor called out her name, she didn't hear him at first.
"Ms Lovejoy," he repeated loudly, causing several of the other students to giggle.
"Uh, sorry," she apologised.
Buffy pulled the folded sheets of paper from her bag and made her way to the front of the class. She looked at the door again and looked ahead at the class, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She opened her mouth, about to speak, when Spike came crashing through the door.
"Sorry I'm late, had car trouble," he said looking at Buffy.
Buffy beamed back at him.
"Before I start, this is my husband, William Lovejoy and my poem is about him," she said proudly.
A couple of girls in the front row let out dreamy sighs.
"Oh that's so cute," said another girl.
Buffy cleared her throat; she looked at Spike as she began.
I thank the stars you were sent to me, For you and I were meant to be, We have a bond too strong to break, We have a love no one can take.
In you I have found a love so true, That my heart is bursting with love for you, Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat, You make me whole, and my life complete.
My love for you grows more each day, The thought of your gorgeous face, takes my breath away, Those blue eyes fill my soul with happiness, Those luscious lips I long to kiss.
The day when I became your wife, Was the happiest of my life, Thinking of that day, makes me smile, I'm so glad that I walked down that aisle, For on that day a dream came true.
For always and forever, I will love you.
The class was silent.
"Um that's it," said Buffy uncomfortably.
The group of girls in the front row, began clapping enthusiastically.
"Thank you Ms Lovejoy, very good, although, I'm not sure if it was your poetry that impressed every one or, you're ahem, visual aid," said her professor, raising an eyebrow at the class.
Spike had been moved by Buffy's poem, he had to resist the urge to kiss her right there and then, so he contented himself by squeezing her hand.
Buffy looked at her teacher.
"Is it okay if William stays for the rest of the lecture?" asked Buffy.
The professor looked around the room at the hopeful female faces.
"Well as long as he's not too distracting," he said.
"Oh, his accent is so sexy, Oh my God, did I just say that out loud?" asked a red faced girl in the seat next to Buffy's
Spike grinned and winked at the girl. Buffy frowned and elbowed Spike in the ribs; he looked at Buffy and mouthed a silent "Ow" at her.
"What was that for? You don't have to be jealous baby, you know you're the only one who gets me hot," he whispered in her ear.
Spike's hand rested on Buffy's knee under the table, making slow circular movements on the bare flesh, Buffy's face flushed, her breathing started to quicken as his hand rested on her thigh. Her teacher looked at her.
"Are you okay Ms Lovejoy, you're looking a little hot and bothered, would you like to be excused?" asked her teacher.
"Yes she would mate," said Spike grabbing up her books and quickly shoving them in her bag, he took her hand and hauled her down the aisle of the class.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They stood outside the class; Spike looked at her and grinned.
"You're evil," she said.
"That's what I keep telling you luv," he said
"Last time I bring you to college," she pouted.
"Why?" he asked
"Did you see they way all those girls were looking at you?" Buffy asked
"Yeah, a couple of them grabbed my ass as we went by, one even tried to give me her phone number," said Spike smugly.
"Right that's it!" she said
She grabbed him by the collar of his leather duster and pulled him along until she found the place she was looking for, the janitor's storeroom.
"In there!" she demanded.
"I unlive to obey," mocked Spike entering the dark room.
Buffy switched on the light and locked the door behind them.
"Think you need a little reminding just whose guy you are," said Buffy pushing him down on an upturned bucket.
"Like the romantic setting love, not complaining here, your poetry got me pretty hot, want to kiss my "luscious lips"? He asked quoting her poem.
"Oh I have every intention of doing that and more before I am finished with you," said Buffy.
"Giles is waiting for me," said Spike.
"Oh like you care," said Buffy.
"True, now tell me again what you think of my blue eyes," he replied grabbing a hold of her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Forrest sat in Walsh's office, listening intently on his headset. He started as the professor came in.
"A little more discretion soldier, I could have been a civilian," she berated him.
Forrest slipped the earpiece from his ear.
"Any thing new to report?" she asked.
"Hostile 17 is still on campus, Buffy wrote him a lovely poem," sighed Forrest
Professor Walsh frowned
"Keep your mind on the mission, Agent Gates," said Walsh hard-heartedly.
Walsh exited her office; Forrest resisted the urge to make a face at her as she left. He slipped his headset on again, and quickly pulled it off when he heard the sounds coming from it.
Dammit, those two were like bunnies in heat, he thought disgustedly to himself, but he was kinda starting to like them, this mission was beginning to weigh heavily on his conscience, but he was a guy to follow orders, wasn't he?
TBC