A/N: *sheepish grin* Heh heh . . .Sorry for the long wait. I've been having
a hard time figuring out how to move this story along. Writer's block is a
female dog. Ugh. *clasp hands* But I think I finally got it.
Thanks to those who didn't give up on this story. Thanks for sticking with me! Is there another word for thanks? I find myself thanking you guys a lot and the word "thanks" just doesn't seem to cut it anymore. You guys have been great. I love you all! *sniffles*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chappy 8~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I smiled at the folded note that I found in my locker.
It was the third note since the first one I discovered today. After every period, I had went to my locker and saw one laying there.
To think he's been doing this all day . . . How he managed to get to my locker before me was beyond me. But I guess it was sweet. Sweet words that probably meant nothing. My smile faded and I sighed. Shrugging, I muttered perkily, "Oh well."
"Oh well, what?" Willow asked, walking up to my locker, "Ah. I see you've figured out how to open-" She stopped and a smile creeped onto her lips as she finished with, "that note . . ."
I nodded, absentmindedly. Did he do this to all girls? Slip love notes into their lockers? Was I just special? Did he really like me this much? Or was this just another way to get into another girl's pants?
I didn't notice that Willow had taken the paper of me and was reading through it.
She flipped the note over and frowned, wondering where the name of the sender was. "W-who's it from?"
"Sp-" I stopped myself, thinking that I'd look totally stupid if it turned out to be some other guy. It was just an assumption . . .But a *good* assumption, thank you very much. I mean, who ELSE could've given it to me?
"Who?" Willow asked again. "There's n-no name." I mentally frowned. Why was Willow stuttering? I know I've only known Willow for a little while, but it's obvious that when she gets nervous or embarrassed, she stutters. I shrugged, thinking that maybe she was embarrassed about finding a love poem.
"S . . ." Catching myself again, I finished, "S . . .Somebody I don't know."
Willow nodded slowly, still looking very intently at the poem.
* * * * * * *
"So, pet. Receive anything interesting today?" Spike asked, jumping and perching onto my table where I was sitting. Damn, he looked sexy sitting like that.
Oh my God.
Am I getting turned on by how a guy sits? What has this world come too?-
"Hello?" Spike asked, snapping a finger at my face, "Pet?"
My head shot up, "Huh? Pets? What about pets?"
Spike smiled. 'Adorable thing . . .' Spike shook his head, 'You poof!'
He smirked and laid a casual hand on mine, "I was wondering if you got anything today. . ."
Curses! Why does he have to touch my hand while talking to me? It's not like he's blind or anything.
"Yes, in fact. I did." I replied, slipping my hand from under his own. He frowned at this action.
'Uh . . .This is new . . .' Spike thought in surprise. "Yeah? So what was it?"
I shrugged, sighing, "Oh . . .Nothing *special*."
'Nothing . . .Special?!' Spike thought in anger and shock. 'What's the matter with this bloody chit?'
Spike smirked, covering his uneasiness, "Nothing special, eh? Are you sure? I thought I saw you holding something when you came in-"
"No, nothing." I sighed, silently reveling at the fact that he was getting stressed.
He scratched the back of his head, asking stupidly, "Nothing?"
I shook my head, "Nothing," I confirmed.
"But what about that . . .thing. That . . .I think it was a paper . . . Isn't that it right there?" Spike asked.
Before class, I had purposely slipped the note into my backpack, but slightly left it peeking out from the pocket.
I pretended to be surprised and gasped, "Oh! You mean this?" I pulled it out and waved it at him.
"Yeah." His face brightened, "Did you open it?"
I gave it a bored look and held it to him, "Yah . . .But it really didn't mean much to me."
"What?" He looked disappointed.
"Whoever wrote it must've been really drunk . . .I mean, the words don't even rhyme. The words don't at ALL flow." I shook my head as I pressed the paper against his chest, "Can you throw it away for me? Please?"
He frowned, "Rhyme?"
I inwardly rolled my eyes at his lack of knowledge toward poetry, "Yeah, that usually what happens when *you*-" I paused and corrected myself, "I mean, when *one* writes poetry."
He looked at me, confusion plain on his face, "Poetry? What are you talking about?"
"Poetry, that's what's on-" I froze and my mind raced. Oh my God. It wasn't him. He didn't send me the poems . . .It was somebody else.
"Pet, are you alright?" He put a hand to my forehead, feeling my cheeks and neck. Lingering a little longer on my neck. 'So smooth . . .' He thought in delight.
I swallowed and cleared my throat, "I'm . . .I'm fine."
"You sure?" He actually looked worried.
"Buffy, you don't look so good . . ." I turned toward the voice and saw Xander heading towards me. He was wearing new green jogging pants from the nurses office.
"Xander, hey." The two guys looked each other up and down and I cringed.
"Who's this, luv?" Spike asked, not looking at me but giving Xander a threatening look. It all but said, 'Stay away.'
I stood up and pushed Spike away from towering over Xander, "This is Xander."
"But you wouldn't know me, probably because you don't ever pay attention to others besides yourself and your little gang of girls." Xander spat, finally standing up to a popular person.
Spike glared, fists clenching. "At least I *have* girls," He retorted.
Ouch. That hurt. Not only for Xander, but for me. Girls. He had girls. Other girls. Pretty girls. Pretty girls who'd probably give him anything he wanted and I wasn't like that. Looks like I won't be getting with Spike any time soon . . .
"Shut up." I told my thoughts and to Spike.
"What?" Spike frowned at me, wondering what he had said wrong.
I ignored him and I tugged on Xander's arm. Pointing to two seats toward the middle of class, I said to him, "Come on, Xander. I think those seats are empty."
Xander gave me a surprised look but then relaxed, smiling smugly at Spike who had confusion etched all across his face.
"Ok," He sent a glare at the blonde man, "Shouldn't be around jerks. I heard they can jerk-ify you if you stay around them long enough."
We walked away and all the while, I felt Spike's eyes on me. I felt a little guilty, but I knew I had to stay away from him. He meant bad business. I was brought up to stay on the good side. Good and bad don't ever mesh well . . .It's too bad. I thought sadly.
I leaned into Xander's ear, slightly amused by his choice of vocabulary, "Jerk-ify?"
He threw me a sheepish grin and shrugged, "I'm not really good at thinking on the spot. But it sounded intimidating and mean, right?"
He gave me a hopeful smile and I just laughed.
* * * * * * *
The bell rang, signaling the end of the first day.
I walked over to my locker, dropping of a few books. As I opened it, sitting on the bottom was another note.
"What the hell?" I mumbled. Another romantic poem.
Who was writing these?
I quickly ran through all the people . . .guys, I had met:
Spike, Xander, Jonathan, that guy at the beginning of school . . .what was it? Riley, that was it. Hm . . .Might as well add the janitor too.
Now which one of these guys was it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: No, this is not gonna turn into a mystery fic. I don't know how to do those. *sheepish grin* lol
Please be kind and review. =) School sucks. Review and make me happy! *giggles* Please? PRETTY PLEASE?!?!?! Oh yeah, and who do you think the mystery man is? Who? Who COULD it be? I've left clues . . .Well . . .At least to ME they looked like clues . . .*giggles*
Thanks to those who didn't give up on this story. Thanks for sticking with me! Is there another word for thanks? I find myself thanking you guys a lot and the word "thanks" just doesn't seem to cut it anymore. You guys have been great. I love you all! *sniffles*
~*~*~*~*~*~*~Chappy 8~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I smiled at the folded note that I found in my locker.
It was the third note since the first one I discovered today. After every period, I had went to my locker and saw one laying there.
To think he's been doing this all day . . . How he managed to get to my locker before me was beyond me. But I guess it was sweet. Sweet words that probably meant nothing. My smile faded and I sighed. Shrugging, I muttered perkily, "Oh well."
"Oh well, what?" Willow asked, walking up to my locker, "Ah. I see you've figured out how to open-" She stopped and a smile creeped onto her lips as she finished with, "that note . . ."
I nodded, absentmindedly. Did he do this to all girls? Slip love notes into their lockers? Was I just special? Did he really like me this much? Or was this just another way to get into another girl's pants?
I didn't notice that Willow had taken the paper of me and was reading through it.
She flipped the note over and frowned, wondering where the name of the sender was. "W-who's it from?"
"Sp-" I stopped myself, thinking that I'd look totally stupid if it turned out to be some other guy. It was just an assumption . . .But a *good* assumption, thank you very much. I mean, who ELSE could've given it to me?
"Who?" Willow asked again. "There's n-no name." I mentally frowned. Why was Willow stuttering? I know I've only known Willow for a little while, but it's obvious that when she gets nervous or embarrassed, she stutters. I shrugged, thinking that maybe she was embarrassed about finding a love poem.
"S . . ." Catching myself again, I finished, "S . . .Somebody I don't know."
Willow nodded slowly, still looking very intently at the poem.
* * * * * * *
"So, pet. Receive anything interesting today?" Spike asked, jumping and perching onto my table where I was sitting. Damn, he looked sexy sitting like that.
Oh my God.
Am I getting turned on by how a guy sits? What has this world come too?-
"Hello?" Spike asked, snapping a finger at my face, "Pet?"
My head shot up, "Huh? Pets? What about pets?"
Spike smiled. 'Adorable thing . . .' Spike shook his head, 'You poof!'
He smirked and laid a casual hand on mine, "I was wondering if you got anything today. . ."
Curses! Why does he have to touch my hand while talking to me? It's not like he's blind or anything.
"Yes, in fact. I did." I replied, slipping my hand from under his own. He frowned at this action.
'Uh . . .This is new . . .' Spike thought in surprise. "Yeah? So what was it?"
I shrugged, sighing, "Oh . . .Nothing *special*."
'Nothing . . .Special?!' Spike thought in anger and shock. 'What's the matter with this bloody chit?'
Spike smirked, covering his uneasiness, "Nothing special, eh? Are you sure? I thought I saw you holding something when you came in-"
"No, nothing." I sighed, silently reveling at the fact that he was getting stressed.
He scratched the back of his head, asking stupidly, "Nothing?"
I shook my head, "Nothing," I confirmed.
"But what about that . . .thing. That . . .I think it was a paper . . . Isn't that it right there?" Spike asked.
Before class, I had purposely slipped the note into my backpack, but slightly left it peeking out from the pocket.
I pretended to be surprised and gasped, "Oh! You mean this?" I pulled it out and waved it at him.
"Yeah." His face brightened, "Did you open it?"
I gave it a bored look and held it to him, "Yah . . .But it really didn't mean much to me."
"What?" He looked disappointed.
"Whoever wrote it must've been really drunk . . .I mean, the words don't even rhyme. The words don't at ALL flow." I shook my head as I pressed the paper against his chest, "Can you throw it away for me? Please?"
He frowned, "Rhyme?"
I inwardly rolled my eyes at his lack of knowledge toward poetry, "Yeah, that usually what happens when *you*-" I paused and corrected myself, "I mean, when *one* writes poetry."
He looked at me, confusion plain on his face, "Poetry? What are you talking about?"
"Poetry, that's what's on-" I froze and my mind raced. Oh my God. It wasn't him. He didn't send me the poems . . .It was somebody else.
"Pet, are you alright?" He put a hand to my forehead, feeling my cheeks and neck. Lingering a little longer on my neck. 'So smooth . . .' He thought in delight.
I swallowed and cleared my throat, "I'm . . .I'm fine."
"You sure?" He actually looked worried.
"Buffy, you don't look so good . . ." I turned toward the voice and saw Xander heading towards me. He was wearing new green jogging pants from the nurses office.
"Xander, hey." The two guys looked each other up and down and I cringed.
"Who's this, luv?" Spike asked, not looking at me but giving Xander a threatening look. It all but said, 'Stay away.'
I stood up and pushed Spike away from towering over Xander, "This is Xander."
"But you wouldn't know me, probably because you don't ever pay attention to others besides yourself and your little gang of girls." Xander spat, finally standing up to a popular person.
Spike glared, fists clenching. "At least I *have* girls," He retorted.
Ouch. That hurt. Not only for Xander, but for me. Girls. He had girls. Other girls. Pretty girls. Pretty girls who'd probably give him anything he wanted and I wasn't like that. Looks like I won't be getting with Spike any time soon . . .
"Shut up." I told my thoughts and to Spike.
"What?" Spike frowned at me, wondering what he had said wrong.
I ignored him and I tugged on Xander's arm. Pointing to two seats toward the middle of class, I said to him, "Come on, Xander. I think those seats are empty."
Xander gave me a surprised look but then relaxed, smiling smugly at Spike who had confusion etched all across his face.
"Ok," He sent a glare at the blonde man, "Shouldn't be around jerks. I heard they can jerk-ify you if you stay around them long enough."
We walked away and all the while, I felt Spike's eyes on me. I felt a little guilty, but I knew I had to stay away from him. He meant bad business. I was brought up to stay on the good side. Good and bad don't ever mesh well . . .It's too bad. I thought sadly.
I leaned into Xander's ear, slightly amused by his choice of vocabulary, "Jerk-ify?"
He threw me a sheepish grin and shrugged, "I'm not really good at thinking on the spot. But it sounded intimidating and mean, right?"
He gave me a hopeful smile and I just laughed.
* * * * * * *
The bell rang, signaling the end of the first day.
I walked over to my locker, dropping of a few books. As I opened it, sitting on the bottom was another note.
"What the hell?" I mumbled. Another romantic poem.
Who was writing these?
I quickly ran through all the people . . .guys, I had met:
Spike, Xander, Jonathan, that guy at the beginning of school . . .what was it? Riley, that was it. Hm . . .Might as well add the janitor too.
Now which one of these guys was it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: No, this is not gonna turn into a mystery fic. I don't know how to do those. *sheepish grin* lol
Please be kind and review. =) School sucks. Review and make me happy! *giggles* Please? PRETTY PLEASE?!?!?! Oh yeah, and who do you think the mystery man is? Who? Who COULD it be? I've left clues . . .Well . . .At least to ME they looked like clues . . .*giggles*
