A/N: The extract is from Joseph Heller's Catch-22 whom I do not own in any which way. As all ways read and review!

The group of teenagers fell into an uneasy silence as they sat in the library and watched each other.

Spike had a cocky grin plastered all over his face.

Angel scowled he never understood why Rayne had it in for him, what had he done to him? Angel turned away from the group and walked back over to his desk. He couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to end up in detention all day. It was as if divine intervention was trying to make this day as bad as possible by sticking him in a room with William Rayne.

"Bleached blonde freak." Angel muttered quietly to himself.

Spike stalked over to the railing that ran along the library separating the study area from the rows and rows of shelved books. He hoisted himself up till he was perched on the railing and swung his legs gently.

Oz was watching him wearily; Xander was drawing cartoons of Synder being eaten by a giant, ugly snake thing on the essay paper, Buffy looked bored and pouted while she filled her nails, the red head was reading her book again and Donaldson was studying his mud encrusted trainers.

"Hey." Spike said loud enough to catch all their attentions but without being heard by Synder. Everyone except the red head looked up. "What do you say we close that door. We can't have any kind of fun with Synder checking on us every few seconds."

Oz ignored him, digging his MP3 player outta his pocket. This was almost predictable he had reliable information from Devon (the lead singer in the Dingoes), who was almost in detention as much as Spike, that every time he had been in here Spike tried (And usually succeed) to get the library doors shut. He had heard Devon tell this story too many times to be vaguely interested in watching it unfold for real. He turned up the volume, drowning out their meaningless conversation with the sound of The Dandy Warhols.

Willow looked up from her book, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, the bleached blonde guy that everyone called Spike was glaring at Angel Donaldson, it looked as if they were gonna come to blows. Willow had never actually seen a real fight, apart from on WWF, which wasn't real either. She didn't really want to see one now or get into trouble with Synder again.

"Well, y'know, Spike that door's s'posed to stay open..." Willow said nervously. Spike threw her a filthy look.

"So what?" He snarled back, jumping off his perch on the railing.

Angry filtered across Angel's face was this guy's sole goal in life is too piss everyone off?

"So why don't you just shut up?" Angel yelled. "There's five other people in here y'know!"

Xander looked up from the picture he had been drawing, a small troll being crushed under the weight of a giant twinkie, at them. He should've been smart like Oz and bought a Walkman.

"Bloody hell! You can count." Spike pretended to look surprised, that cocky smile reappearing on his face making him appear arrogant. "See! I knew you had to be smart to be a quarterback."

That was it Angel was so gonna deck this guy, he didn't care if he would be in detention till the end of time. He stood up violently; his chair fell backwards with a heavy metallic clang. He saw the look of horror in Buffy's face at the impending violence. This was not him; he didn't start fights with losers. He clenched his fist, forcing himself to relax.

"Who the hell are you to judge anybody anyway?" He growled. Buffy touched his arm.

"Really..." Buffy chimed. She gave Spike a disgusted look; she would never live down this day if any of this got out.

"Y'know Rayne..." Angel looked Spike up and down. He was dressed all in black with scuffed boots, white trash Angel thought, that's what his father would say. "You don't even count. If you disappeared forever it wouldn't make any difference." Angel looked down on Spike. "You may as well not even exist at this school."

Spike looked away from the dumb smug faces of the jock and prom bitch. It wasn't fair why was it always him stuck on the outside looking in. Just 'cause he didn't want to be like them and sure he did some bad things but sometimes, not very often, he wished he could fit in with some crowd not just the jerks he hung around with getting high. Be someone, not just the bad kid who'll end up in prison by the time he hits twenty-one, end up like his dad.

Spike turned back to face them, his face blank and a furious look in his pale blue eyes that almost seemed to darken a shade with his rage.

"And what exactly have you two added to this world?" Spike yelled. "New cheerleader uniforms, bruised and bloody freshmen? Every single school on the fucking planet has selfish stuck up people like you!"

Buffy sighed; Spike Rayne and his dumb jovial delinquent friends were assholes. At every single formal dance they spiked the punch or pulled a stupid and dangerous prank that she and the rest of the student council would have to clear up. She could remember him briefly in the first year of junior high, quiet with curly brown hair and glasses. She and her friends had teased him mercilessly about his English accent. She blinked and squashed that particular memory to the back of her mind, turning her attention to the bleached blonde freakazoid in front of her. She did not like this manifestation of William Rayne. She heard that him and his jerk off friends were the ones slashing the tires of the football players' cars. That was probably the reason he was here.

"You know..." Buffy began, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, smiling sweetly at Spike. "Why guys like you knock everything?"

"Oh, this should be stunning..." Spike said with a wolfish grin. "Tell me Goldilocks." He sat down on the side on her desk.

"It's 'cause you're afraid." Buffy said with a smile of triumph.

Spike's look soured as he snarled. "Oh God! You're such a shallow Barbie doll bitch."

"You big jerk!" Buffy huffed, this guy was so, so infuriating. He was driving her nuts. I mean, who the hell does he think he is? Just 'cause he thinks he's a badass. It certainly didn't impress her. Okay he was good looking in a sort of Billy Idol kinda way but that was it. But that did not lessen the fact he was an utter asshole.

"You're afraid that no one will really like you if they knew who you really are!" Buffy said sending him a filthy look.

"Well..." He hadn't expected the prom princess to actually have her own opinion. "Who the hell am I then!"

"You, um..." Buffy faltered under the intense glaze of rage in his pale blue eyes. Her anger wavered slightly as the stared at each other. Those blue eyes would be a lot prettier if he wasn't so angry she thought, oh god she was thinking that Spike Rayne's eyes were pretty. That was sooo bad, she shouldn't ever think about that again.

Buffy was starting to look at him funny, Spike wondered. Why was he doing this? He didn't give a damn what these people thought of him. He stood up off the desk, stalked off to the other side of the library and sat behind a library stack, were no one could see him. Spike told himself he wasn't sulking he was ignoring the stupid morons that inhabited Sunnydale High.

Buffy watched him prowl off and felt a pang of guilt.

Angel shock his head and sighed, this day was going to last forever.

"The Texan turned out to be good-natured, generous and likeable. In three days no one could stand him. He sent shudders of annoyance scampering up ticklish spines, and everyone fled from him – everybody but the solider in white, who had no choice." Willow kinda felt like the solider in white at the moment, stuck.

Oz nodded his head along to the beat of the bass guitar riff in 'Get Off' on the 'Thirteen Tales of Urban Bohemia' Dandy Warhols album, quite arguably there best yet.

Xander snored loud, drooling slightly onto the desk.