Chapter Five

Science and French were a blur to Buffy. Whenever the teacher wasn't looking directly at her she opened her History book and read up on more of the Crusades. She was home free until her French professor, Mrs. Solomon, called on her. Her head perked up, recognizing her name. "What?"

"Would you please answer the question?" Mrs. Solomon said. She was giving Buffy the benefit of the doubt, thinking she was paying attention, and didn't repeat the question. Damn her.

"Oh, the answer. To the question you asked. The question you just asked that you want me to answer," Buffy stalled.

"Yes, Buffy."

"Just checking. Uh, the answer is…" Buffy looked over at Willow who wrote it down for her. "Henry X?"

"Which would also be the tenth?" Mrs. Solomon said.

"Well, yeah. I just thought you might want the 'x' instead of the tenth."

"Well thank you for taking me into consideration." Mrs. Solomon faced Willow. "Would you like to answer the next question as well Willow?" She turned and walked to the white board.

Buffy made it to History and cleared her brain of everything but the Crusades. She was wearing a smile, confident in herself. She studied more than she ever studied before. Mr. Brown handed her the test and continued passing them out. Buffy wrote her name on the top. Okay, I got this. My mind is clear of distraction and ready to give me Crusades knowledge. She read the first question. When did the Crusades begin and end? That's easy. It's… It's… Oh no! When I said clear mind I meant leave some stuff. Oh no. Come on brain, you know this. It's the… that century. … I'm toast. Not even lightly cooked toast. I'm burnt toast. The toast no one eats because it can't remember what it just studied.

The bell's treacherous noise rung throughout the school. "Leave your test on your desk and I will collect them," Mr. Brown announced from his extremely clean desk.

Buffy picked up her book bag and trudged out of the class. I choked. That's it. I'm done. Mom's gonna be mad. She'll send me off to military school where I'll wake up at the butt crack of dawn, scrub floors with a toothbrush and-

"How'd you do?"

Buffy jumped a little, putting her hand on her chest. She glanced to the right and saw Spike. "Like you care."

"I just want to know if your studying paid off."

"I'll find out Monday I guess."

"Well, I did pretty good, in case you wanted to know."

"Don't." Buffy stopped at the student designated 'Four Corners' for Willow. "Oh, your Dad wants you to see him before he leaves."

Spike halted his next step and turned around. "Huh?"

"Dad. Library. Before leaving." Buffy kept her eyes open.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Just go and find out."

"Did he seem mad?"

"Spike, I don't care about your little 'is my Dad pissed at me' thing. So just, go and find out and stop bugging- Willow!" Buffy waved to her red headed friend.

Spike rolled his eyes and walked to the library.

"Hey Buffy. How was your test?"

"Well, I was all 'bring on the test' but then I got it and my mind was like 'how do you even spell Crusades?' No final verdict until Monday."

"Oh, I'm sorry Buffy. But it's all right. You probably unknowingly knew the answers."

Buffy's face looked confused. "Unknowingly know? I'm gonna go with you on that because it's positive and you're the smart one. But you're also the best friend who says, 'no you look great in that dress' even though I look like an abominable snow beast with heels."

"Abominable snow beast?"

Buffy grabbed Willow's wrist to look at the time. "Oh crap. I gotta get to dance practice. I'll call ya later Will." Buffy ran down the hallway.

"Dad?" Spike called when he entered the smelly old library. "Hello?" He walked over to the desk and leaned over. "Dad?"

"Don't lean over the counter please," Giles said, startling his son. He came out from his office. "How was your test?"

"I think I did pretty good."

"Good." Giles was looking at three different books.

"So, was there a purpose to me coming here or…"

"Yes," he put the books down on the desk. "I want to talk about Buffy."

"What about her?"

"Your lack of respect for her."

"Caught that, huh?"

"Spike," Giles said solemnly.

"Dad, let me tell you a story. There's a little boy walking through the park and he sees a cute puppy. He walks over to the puppy, says 'hi' and goes to pet him. But the puppy bites him instead."

Giles stood there waiting for him to say more. He didn't. "Is that it?"

"Yeah. See, I'm the boy and Buffy's the puppy. I try to pet her but instead she bites me."

"You're not getting out of this conversation with a story about puppies."

"No, see, there's only one puppy."

"Spike, please," Giles said sternly. His voice was beginning to rise.

Spike took a step back. "Okay, so let's talk about the Buffy thing quickly so I can go home."

"Which is another thing to talk to you about." Giles was walking books to the shelves.

"What do you mean?"

"Pulling your weight around the house."

"It's not even my house."

"Yet you feel the right to call it home."

Spike gritted his teeth. Why's he being such a ponce? "So you want me to be nice to Buffy and clean up the house."

"Correct."

"Okay I can do that. Anything else you want me to do like, I don't know, hold the world on my shoulders!" Spike yelled his ending comment.

"How about you sleep outside for a couple days?" Giles placed the last book on the shelf and made his way to his office.

"While I'm at it I'll trim the grass with scissors and water it with my drool."

"That is enough!" Giles was standing an inch from Spike. His eyes were showing the death stare. Definitely not one of Spike's favorites. The last time he received it, Spike colored in the pictures of his demonology books. Sure it would've been cute if he was five or so, but this happened last year when he got drunk.

"Fine by me!" Spike stormed out of the library, trying to slam the door on his way out, but they were swinging doors. He hustled out of the way so it didn't hit him in the face.