*Hey everyone, just a little note before I get started…reviews are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! And, as always, thanks to my beta Colleen*
"Put your
hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour.
Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.
THAT'S relativity."
~Albert Einstein Quotes~
"Hey Buffster, it's your early morning wakeup call," Xander's cheery voice said. Buffy's response was a groan into the telephone receiver.
"Why are you calling me this early?" The slayer asked her best friend.
"You have a class in an hour and Willow knew that you'd sleep late," Xander explained.
"What class?" The slayer asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning, the telephone receiver firmly tucked against her chin and shoulder.
"Poetry. I think the whole class is devoted to studying Shakespearean sonnets," Xander said.
"And how do you know all of this…non college boy?" Buffy asked curiously.
"Willow knew you'd ask," Xander replied, smirking from his bedroom, where he sat, making the call.
"Well, I better get ready. I love sonnets, so this class should be fun," Buffy said.
"You love poetry? Since when?" Xander asked. Buffy paused and Xander clamped a hand over his mouth.
Willow had warned him about this. After instructing Xander to call Buffy and wake her up she had warned him that her only class of the day was poetry, a class that held great reminders of the slayer's vampire lover.
"I'm sorry Buffster. I didn't mean to-" Xander began. However, the slayer cut him off.
"You know, I really need to go. I'll meet you at the shop after my class though," Buffy said.
"Yeah…okay. Are you sure you're…." Xander trailed off when he heard the sound of Buffy turning off her cordless phone. "Damn," Xander cursed himself, picturing all too well the sight that Buffy would make.
It was the slayer's first year of college and she owned an apartment by the campus. She had been getting better. The times when she would stare off into space were becoming less and less frequent. However, both Willow and Xander knew that the transition into the real world, from a summer of relaxation would be hard. After all, everything Buffy did seemed to hold memories of him…
Buffy sat at a table at Karma, a local dance club that most teenagers went to after school. Buffy remembered times when she and her friends would go dancing every afternoon, not coming home until the club closed at two o'clock. However, last year, when she had begun slaying her friendships had ended, she hadn't had time. It wasn't much of a loss, the slayer learned to treat herself as an individual and realized that she didn't fit in with the popular girls that she used to lead, and now mocked her. Still, sometimes it would be nice to have some companionship. Sighing, Buffy concentrated on the poetry book in front of her. It was a book of Shakespearean sonnets and she hated every one of them. They made no sense! They were like….
"So…not out patrolling tonight, I see," A familiar voice said.
"What do you want Spike?" Buffy asked, not looking up from her book. She knew that Spike wouldn't kill her here. For some reason this vampire seemed to feel the need to have a good, clean, fight. Both of the times they'd fought it had been more like sparring, each getting into fighting position. Most graveyard attacks were surprises.
"Poetry, that's interesting," The vampire said, ignoring Buffy's question and taking an empty seat across from the slayer.
"Not to me," Buffy admitted, closing the poetry book with an exasperated sigh.
"Let's have a look," Spike suggested, pulling his chair around the table so he was next to Buffy. The slayer eyed him warily but said nothing. Spike took the poetry book from the table and glanced at the title for a moment, saying nothing. Then he began flipping through the pages. After a several minutes of silence Spike placed the book of sonnets gently on the table. Buffy glanced down at the page that Spike had opened the book too.
On the left page there was a black and white illustration of Shakespeare, crouched over a writing desk. On the right was Sonnet 130
"What is it?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her nose. Spike rolled his eyes.
"Sonnet 130…one of Shakespeare's most controversial sonnets…." Spike said, trailing off. "Good god, does that school of yours teach you anything?" The vampire asked after a moment. Buffy gave the vampire a blank look and he spoke once more. "Start reading."
"Um…ok," Buffy said, leaning over the book.
"My mistress' eyes are nothing
like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare"
The slayer read in a monotone voice.
She then looked at Spike expectantly.
The vampire had closed his eyes and a grimace was firmly planted on his
face.
"What are you doing?" The vampire asked.
"Reading the sonnet," Buffy said matter-of-factly.
"That was not reading the sonnet, that was murdering the sonnet!" Spike cried, flinging his hands into the air and not caring that he was attracting the attention of everyone dancing near him.
"I'm out of here," Buffy said, rolling her eyes and standing. The slayer began to gather the few books she had. However, as soon as she reached for the book of sonnets Spike stopped her by placing a hand on her arm.
"Don't go. I'm sorry," he said softly. Too shocked to speak the slayer sat down once more.
"When you read this sonnet you have to read it with an understanding of what the author is feeling. Now, do you have any idea what this sonnet is about?" Spike asked Buffy patiently.
"No," The slayer grumbled.
"Sure you do, look at it again," The vampire coaxed. Buffy reread the sonnet, a look of total concentration on her face the entire time.
"Love,: The slayer said after a moment. "The man writing the poem-"
"-Sonnet," Spike corrected.
"Is obviously in love with a woman. But it's not like a normal love. He's saying how his love for her is so pure and so powerful that it overcomes reason. He's being perfectly honest with her, telling her exactly how he feels. But he's telling her that it doesn't make his love any less real. In fact, he thinks….knows….that by telling her he's ensuring that their love lasts. It doesn't matter who they are. All we know about the poem is that they're a man and a woman. They could be complete opposites. They could be like a…." Buffy trailed off and Spike spoke,
"…vampire and a slayer."
"What?" Buffy asked in confusion.
"I just mean that for all we know the couple could be as different as a vampire and a slayer," Spike explained.
Buffy looked up at Spike for the first time since she had begun analyzing the sonnet. His eyes looked strait into hers and she was overcome with the urge to pull him to her and crush her lips to his. After what seemed like hours of simply staring at one another Spike spoke.
"You should be going home."
"What?" Buffy asked, still mesmerized by Spike's eyes. They were the kind of eyes, Buffy noted, that a girl could lose herself in.
"Come on love, I'll walk you home," Spike whispered. He stood and Buffy did the same. Exiting Karma together the pair set off in silence towards the slayer's home. They reached her back porch and Buffy searched her bag for a key, finally finding one and pulling it out with a triumphant smile. The slayer paused for a moment before entering her house
"I just want to say thank you. For everything, especially for helping me with the sonnet though. I mean, school's almost over and our entire final is going to be on the sonnets. I kind of get them now," Buffy said.
"Slayer," Spike said as Buffy turned the key in the lock, preparing to go inside.
"You're punches…they still suck." Buffy looked at Spike, one eyebrow raised.
"You think you can do something about that?" She asked, the hint of a challenge in her eyes.
"Oh yeah slayer, I definitely think I can. Tomorrow. Eight o'clock, meet me at the gym and I'll show you what real fighting is about," Spike promised the slayer. He locked eyes with her and suddenly found himself moving toward her, lips descending on hers. Buffy closed her eyes and tilted her head expectantly. However, Spike's lips never reached hers, instead, they landed on her forehead. Planting a firm kiss there. "Sleep well love," Spike said.
"Yeah," Buffy whispered, trying not to let her disappointment show. "See you tomorrow."
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