Friday, 11:47 p.m.
Buffy sat on the park bench in a small heap of huddled misery, staring at the test paper in her hand. Her eyes blurred with tears as she saw the ugly red number- 53.
"Hello, Cutie!" The British accent dropped unmistakeably on her ears. "Looks like the night won't be a total loss if I get to kill you!"
"Spike!" Buffy gasped, leaping to her feet in one fluid motion.
He grinned, closing in on her. "Miss me, Slayer? Knew you would! That's why I decided..."
He stopped abruptly. "Are you crying?" he asked incredulously.
"No!" Buffy instinctively crumpled up her test and dashed away a tear. "Of c...course not! And," she continued, "you're the only one who dies tonight, Spike! I'm in just the right mood to stake my mortal enemy!"
His grin had faded; he was studying her face with an intensity she found unnerving.
"Well?" she taunted. "Ready to put your money where your mouth is?"
He swung at her then; she parried the blow, but when she tried kicking he feinted and grasped her wrist...she brought her other hand around in a hard punch- but by then he'd grabbed the crumpled test and opened it.
"Ohhh!" Buffy, humiliated, kicked him hard in the chest; and for a few minutes it was all Spike could do to block the punches and kicks coming his way from the enraged Slayer.
Eventually it dawned on her that he was merely defending, not fighting back- and she paused.
"Finished?" he asked coolly.
She nodded, abashed.
"Then settle down," he ordered. "Now...what's this all about?"
She lifted one shoulder dismissively. He waited.
Buffy sighed. "I...got kicked out of school again." Despite herself, her eyes once more filled with tears.
"Because of this?" he held up her test. When she didn't respond, he studied the paper carefully.
At last he said, slowly, "I'm not sure about American high schools- but this looks like a very difficult test, pet."
"It is," Buffy actually felt grateful to Spike for confirming her own opinion. "There's hardly anything that Willow said would be there...lots of dates, and little obscure facts..." she realized she sounded like a whiner, and shut up.
"I'm sure they can't kick you out of school for failing one test," Spike remarked.
"Oh yes they can!" BUffy said grimly. "Snyder only let me back in because Giles persuaded him somehow...and the condition was that I pass a test in every single subject."
"But this," Spike gestured with the paper, "is an obviously unfair test!"
"Snyder won't care," Buffy was sure of it. "He's been looking for an excuse to kick me out...and I just handed him one! God only knows what the next part will be..."
"The next part?" Spike inquired.
"I have to take the second half of the test on Monday," Buffy explained.
"Well then, you'll just have to redeem yourself, won't you pet?"
She shook her head. "I'd have to ace it...and if it's just as hard, I probably won't be..."
"Since when are you such a quitter, Slayer?" Spike asked, raising one eyebrow.
Buffy found it hard to meet his eyes. She knew he was aware that she'd run away after her defeat of Angelus; and somehow, it bothered her more than she could admit- to think that he despised her for it.
The two of them had always met on level ground- bitter enemies trying for a kill, but nevertheless alike in their enjoyment of the fight... matching speed and skill against an opponent equally deadly.
Now- he probably thought she was a bratty kid too stupid to pass a history test!
She bit her lip. "I didn't say I wasn't going to try..."
"Good." He cut her off abruptly. "We'd better get started."
"We?" Buffy asked in astonishment.
Spike shrugged. "I really wasn't doing anything tonight anyway...maybe I could help you a bit. After all, I lived through most of it."
Buffy felt a bit bemused- after all, most of her encounters with Spike involved physical rather than mental action; but when they were up in her room, studying the War of 1812, she discovered to her surprise that he was an excellent teacher.
She told him so; and he looked quite pleased. "As good as your Watcher?"
"Yes," she nodded.
He hesitated. "What about...Angel? Did he ever help you with your school work?"
Buffy flushed at the mention of Angel's name; but she answered honestly.
"No. I...didn't ask him. He did pretend to be my tutor once, but he never really was."
"And why not?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.
She looked away. "He...always thought of me as a child, then. I...wanted to convince him that I...wasn't."
"Hmmm, I'd say you managed it, love." He tossed the comment off carelessly, then realized his mistake when she stiffened defensively.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Look...it's getting late. You'd better get some sleep."
Buffy agreed. "And Spike..."
He paused on his way out the window. "Yes?"
"Thank you." she smiled at him warmly, still a little shy of him, but finally at ease in his company.
His keen glance softened; and he smiled back at her. "My pleasure, love."
Saturday, 10:20 p.m.
Buffy climbed the stairs to her bedroom, feeling unaccountably depressed.
Her nightly patrol had been uneventful; secretly, she'd been hoping Spike would show. But even though she'd checked all their usual haunts, he was nowhere in sight.
"It's about bloody time!" Spike glowered at her from her bed, where he was sprawled out reading. "What took you so long?"
Buffy found herself so happy to see him that she decided to overlook his testy tone.
"I do have Slayer duties, you know," she pointed out. "That's the reason I missed so much school in the first place."
"We'd better get started...lots of material to cover before Monday."
Buffy wondered if he was feeling lonely without Drusilla; she imagined Sunnydale would offer little by way of amusement for him.
She shrugged. "Sure. Wait'll I..." she dropped her Slayer kit in the closet and shed her leather jacket.
Spike happened to glance up from the history book as she was leaning over to pull off her boots. Fascinated, he took in her tank top and tiny skirt...it would be so easy, flipping up that skirt, pulling the top over her head and... Spike swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away from the Slayer. What was he thinking?
She crossed to her bed and perched on the edge, disturbingly close.
"Uh...why don't I quiz you, love?" he suggested desperately.
"Okay," she agreed cheerfully, unaware of the effect she was having on him.
He forced his attention back to the history lesson.
To his secret satisfaction, the Slayer remembered nearly everything he'd told her the previous night. She really had a quick mind. He found he enjoyed bolstering her confidence...the sight of his sassy little Slayer in tears had rattled him more than he'd care to admit.
She regained all her sparkle; she even made him laugh a few times. There was a certain playful quality to their interaction - now that they weren't trying to kill each other.
At last he decided that she'd had enough; he got up reluctantly, heading for the window. This time she came along.
"Spike?" At his look she continued," I just...I really am grateful to you...for helping me."
Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
He stared at her, shocked by her action. For once all words had deserted him.
He climbed swiftly out the window and headed for home.
He'd been walking for ten minutes before he realized he was going in the wrong direction.
Sunday, 7:09 p.m.
Early as it was, she was already waiting for him, sitting curled up in the center of her bed.
He studied her with interest- instead of the short skirts and tight pants she usually wore, the Slayer was dressed in denim overalls over a white T-shirt, with bright red socks on her tiny feet.
Spike felt both regret and grudging approval. Her clothes were certainly less distracting than usual...he'd be able to keep his mind on the work at hand. Not that those denim things weren't cute. Damned cute. And one of the straps seemed determined to fall down...
He focused his attention on the book, meticulously reviewing the material with her. He was pleased at her progress. Occasionally he allowed a short break; and then they relaxed and chatted.
She told him about her life in Los Angeles; he talked of his days in London. He explained the finer points of British football; she described the intricacies of ice-skating.
And- it never occurred to either that they were fraternizing with the enemy.
Spike stayed as long as he dared; but finally knew he had to leave. Buffy would need some sleep before going to school.
"All right, pet," he said at last, getting up. "You're ready. I'll stop by tomorrow, just to see how it went...but you'll be fine."
He lingered at the window.
She looked at him inquiringly.
"Don't I get my kiss tonight?" he asked at last, trying to sound indifferent. Like he wasn't very concerned either way.
Blushing, she put up her face, and this time she kissed him on the mouth.
It was a soft little kiss, not the sort anyone would give to a lover... on the other hand, it wasn't the kind given to a brother, either.
Spike's mind struggled with the implications of that kiss until he fell asleep at dawn.
Monday, 5:37 p.m.
He fairly lunged through her window in his hurry...to find her standing silently, solemnly, in the middle of her bedroom.
"Well?" he demanded, his mouth dry.
Buffy extended her test...and he saw the large red 98. She burst out laughing at his boyish whoop of delight; he grabbed her, lifting her and swinging her around in an excess of joy.
"You did it...you did it, Slayer!"
"No," Buffy corrected happily, "*We* did...we did it together, Spike!"
She hugged him, her pretty, tempting face only inches from his...
Hurriedly he set her on her feet. "That's...very nice, Slayer. I'll...be on my way, then."
"Spike?" She was staring at him with big, hurt eyes- all trace of laughter gone.
He almost made it...he was nearly onto the roof when he stopped to glance back at her.
With a groan of reluctance, he turned around, jerked her roughly into his arms, and kissed her hard.
Then, he pushed her gently away...and fled out the window in a panicky rush.
The following night, he didn't come. She had known, of course, that he would not...he was wiser than she. Still she sat by her window for hours- never knowing that he stood beneath the tree, staring longingly up at her light.
Thursday was Parents' Night at Sunnydale High School; and Principal Snyder cornered Buffy.
"Well, Miss Summers, I was looking forward to speaking with your mother this evening; you say she's away?"
"She had to be in San Francisco on business," Buffy explained reluctantly. "She'll be gone all week."
"How convenient," Snyder sneered. "I can telephone her later; I really wanted to discuss your history exam."
Buffy stared at him. "What about it?"
Snyder smirked. "I found it odd that you failed the first part; and then did so well on the second. It's made me...suspicious. It's made me wonder if there isn't some question of...cheating."
Buffy's eyes flashed. "I did *not* cheat!"
"Somehow...I'm not convinced," Snyder snapped. "You're capable of anything...*except* getting an A on your own!"
He turned on his heel and walked away- leaving an angry Slayer standing in the hallway.
But she wasn't the only one fuming. Unknown to both the Slayer and Snyder, there'd been a silent witness to their encounter; and he wasn't happy.
It was late when Snyder finally left school; and he was in a very bad temper. He sometimes thought he hated the parents nearly as much as he did their teenagers.
So when the blond man stepped out of the shadows to confront him, he didn't bother to be polite.
"Buffy Summers?" he snapped. "What about her?"
"I'm sure you're pleased," the man smiled, "that she's doing so well...now that she's been allowed back in school."
Snyder snorted. "I don't know who you are, young man..."
"I'm called Spike," murmured the blond, lighting a cigarette.
"But don't come to me looking for favors for your girlfriend! That girl is a troublemaker; she may have duped the board into readmitting her, but I promise you- sooner or later I'll find a way to get rid of her...if it's the last thing I ever do!"
The blond man tossed away his cigarette. "I was rather hoping you'd feel that way."
Something strange was happening to his face....
"Spike!" Buffy's voice came sharply out of the darkness.
The blond turned to her; and his face was once again normal.
Snyder blinked; the pressures of life in Sunnydale were getting to him. He gave the young couple a baleful look and scurried past them.
Buffy glared at Spike. "What did you think you were doing?"
"I *was* about to do you a favor," he retorted. "Why did you stop me? That miserable toad is no loss!"
"I don't want that," she objected.
"Don't you understand? That little tin despot asks nothing better than to make your life a living hell! Why not let me kill him for you?"
"No! Spike...I don't want you to kill Snyder...or anybody. I don't want..."
"Well, what *do* you bloody want?" he shouted. "Do you even know?"
"Yes I do!" she exploded. "I want you to listen to me whining about Snyder! I want you to say, 'Yeah, right, the guy's a jerk!' And then...give me a kiss!"
For one instant he stared at her in stupefaction; then, his sense of humor betrayed him. Seeing her standing there- so little and blonde and furious with him...he began to laugh.
Buffy flushed bright red with embarrassment. She whirled and started to stalk away; but was halted by his grip on her shoulders. Deliberately he turned her around to face him, but she stubbornly avoided his gaze.
"Know what, Slayer?" One slim, elegant hand cupped her chin and lifted it so that she had to look into his eyes. Eyes that were still amused...but filled with a reluctant tenderness.
"What?" she asked, barely audible.
He whispered, "I can do that."
And then, deliberately, he brought his mouth down on hers.
She kissed him back enthusiastically; and it was sometime before either of them could think of anything else.
Eventually, he suggested they go home.
"More tutoring?" Buffy suggested, smiling at him.
Spike raised his eyebrows. "Of course, love."
He reached for her hand. "There's so much that I plan to teach you."