__Teacher's Pet__
By Jolene Beasley
"I can’t BELIEVE you did that!"
All Giles could do was blink and stutter. Profusely. Complete words just wouldn’t come out. He had come home to a full-blown Buffy temper tantrum the likes of which he hadn’t seen in a long time.
"I asked you to READ the stupid thing, not GRADE it!" She threw a handful of papers in his face. It was all he could do not to flinch. "I can’t turn in a paper that’s already been graded!"
He looked hurt, but kept his voice level. "Buffy, I never meant to insult your writing..."
She picked up the loose pages and shook them at him. "Well, you did, you turkey. And what’s with the red circles? You drew circles around half the words I wrote! How could I NOT be insulted?" The pages were tossed into the air once again.
"Buffy..." He took an involuntary step backwards as she glared at him. "...they were merely suggestions..."
"Suggestions? SUGGESTIONS? Sometimes you are such a MAN!"
"I can’t r-really help that, c-can I?" He tried to smile. "At times, it comes in rather handy." He looked at her with heartfelt longing. This was not how he’d planned to spend his evening.
"*Ohhh*! And when you’re not being a MAN, you’re being a TEACHER!"
"Well, I - I am a teacher, Buffy..."
"It’s all my fault for thinking you could possibly be anything else for five minutes. How dumb can I be?" She began to pace around the room, and his apprehension increased with every step. He tried to keep up with her as she darted from one place to another.
"Darling, you aren’t..." He tried to reach for her, but she evaded his grasp easily.
"Go away." She turned her back on him.
He winced. Rejection wasn’t something he handled well.
She scooped some of the papers up again, and shoved them in his face. "Just look at this paper. Marks all over it! And in RED INK, for God’s sake! I don ’t have time to reprint it... it’s due tomorrow! And the lab doesn’t open until ten, and my class is at ten! And We Don’t Have A Computer, Mr. I-live-in-the-dark-ages! This... this is worse than being a man, or a teacher, this is BOTH!!"
"Actually, red ink was the only color I had on hand..." He reached for his shirt pocket to prove it to her.
She screamed in frustration as she turned and pounded down the stairs to the kitchen. The rattle-slam of the freezer door signaled the beginnings of an ice cream binge. He knew he was doomed, then, for sure. He could rate her temper in stages: rearranging things, going for a walk, vacuuming, knocking the stuffing out of their newest punching bag, and last, but not least, the dreaded dairy products stupor. He was toast. ‘I’m probably sleeping on the couch tonight... if not the back porch.’
He looked sorrowfully down at the papers scattered around the bedroom floor. Absentmindedly, he began gathering them up and putting them in order. There were red marks on each page. He felt monumentally stupid. He studied the marks he had made, wondering if he’d ever learn that verbal communication worked far better than written with his high-spirited wife. Her story, a bit of fiction for her Creative Writing class, was well done for a college freshman. Maybe he was too hard on her... he was dealing with third and fourth year students regularly. She had said, ‘Read this,’ and he had interpreted it to mean, ‘Help me with this.’ Obviously, he had been mistaken. ‘I really am truly sorry, my love.’ She blew angry smoke rings into his mind, along with a few choice words. He winced again
He stopped shuffling the papers and started reading the story, really reading it this time. Now that his Teacher Mode had been effectively disturbed, he found himself intrigued by the tale. It certainly was a subject she was familiar with... vampires, demons, and super-human good guys. And, it was funny. He sat on the edge of the bed, chuckling to himself. ‘You know, love, this really is quite good.’ He sent the message to her telepathically, hoping for a non-violent response. He got nothing... no response at all. He sighed, and continued to read, stopping from time to time to attempt to connect with her through the Bond. After being soundly rebuffed three times, he gave up.
‘Moping around isn’t solving anything.’ He decided. ‘I’m going to have to take action.’ He got up and grabbed his coat as he headed for the door.
Downstairs, Buffy had been deliberately ignoring all attempts at conciliatory communication. She was three-quarters of the way through a carton of Rocky Road when she realized he wasn’t telepathically begging her to forgive him any more. Worry lines appeared on her forehead as she frowned. She sent out a questing thought, reaching for him across the house. He wasn’t there.
She practically flew up the stairs, resisting the urge to call out his name. Her report was neatly stacked on the night stand. His jacket was gone. Her angry face slid into a more worried expression. How could he leave without her knowing it? Oh, yeah. She was in a ‘bloody funk’ and didn’t even sense it when he left.
"Okay, now I’m starting to really feel like a heel." She said to herself. She sat down on the bed, a tiny pout starting to form on her lips. The results of her usual temper tantrums involved way too much ice cream and a partial night of her bewildered husband sleeping on the couch. She didn’t have moody spells very often, and she usually couldn’t stay mad all night... she missed his presence beside her too much.
But now, he wasn’t downstairs on the couch where she could go and make up with him. He was gone, and she felt terribly alone. She went downstairs slowly, opened the front door, and moaned softly, "Oh, no, I’ve really done it this time." His car was gone. He was far enough away that she couldn’t feel him.
Thirty minutes later, she was more than alone, she was frantic. He never left without telling her where he was going. It was a holdover from their Slayer/Watcher days... you just didn’t go off without telling your partner where you were... she’d done that once, and regretted it ever since. And yet, he was gone.
Forty-five minutes later, she was dialing 911 when the tug of awareness told her he was returning. She looked up just as he let himself in the door. Relief flooded her, and she didn’t care that he knew exactly how she felt. He took a few quick steps towards her, gently taking the phone from her hands and hanging it up.
Tears sprang to her eyes, her emotions still too near the surface to supress.
Her angry demands for an explanation were forgotten as she took in his appearance. His jacket was torn and muddy. His hair was a mess. His glasses were missing. His briefcase had a large gash in one side. And yet, merry vibes emanated from him as he kissed her nose. He shrugged out of his coat, tossing it into the trash can. It was too shredded to salvage. His vest was little better than rags.
Before he could say a word, she threw her arms around him and started sobbing. Half-apologizing, half-scolding, she tried to communicate her feelings, and finally gave up and held him. He was safe. He was here. That was the important thing. His arms felt strong and warm around her, even if they were covered with... scratches? She finally composed herself enough to take a good look at her husband. He was bleeding from a hundred tiny wounds. He looked like he’d scrambled through a hedge row of thorns.
"What... what *happened* to you?" Her voice was small and tight with emotion. She wanted to scream, *I’m sorry I’m sorry*... but it just wouldn’t come out that way. "You... you *left*." She couldn’t keep the accusation out of her voice, try as she might.
"I tried to tell you where I was going, but you weren’t speaking to me." He reminded gently. His voice was soft and soothing to her ears. "So...are you speaking to me now?"
"Yes." She managed the word before starting to sob again.
"Good." He held her tighter, soothing her until her anguish and fear subsided. When he finally thought she might listen to his explanation, he sat down with her on the sofa, his arms still around her. "Better?" He looked into her face, reading her expression almost as clearly as he could read her mind.
She smiled and sniffled. "Better. Much." She grabbed a Kleenex from the sofa table and started drying her face. "Okay, sanity has returned. Where were you? And what happened to make you look like you were put through a pasta press?"
He laughed cheerfully. "Oh, this is nothing, love. You should see the other fellow."
She chuckled and gave him a gentle slap on the shoulder. "Stop teasing and start talking."
He acquiesced and leaned back, his arm resting on the back of the couch. "Very, well, then. I decided, since I had ruined your paper with my silly squiggles, that the least I could do would be to go over to the night school to re-print your story. I knew your, uhm, disk-thingie had to be in the computer lab with all the other students’ work, so I went to the library in hopes of firing up one of those machines without catching it *on* fire."
Buffy’s eyes grew round with shock. "YOU were gonna start up a computer yourself? Boy, I must’ve really put the fear of God into you!"
"I do know a little about the wretched things, thank you very much. Ancient as I am, I am still educable. As it turned out, though, I found a student working late, and he agreed to help me. I went to get your disk, but, when I got to the lab, the doors were all locked. I had to think creatively at that point."
"So, wha’d you do..." She sat up and looked him right in the eyes. "Rupert Giles! You *broke* in? Jimmied the lock?"
"Not ‘jimmied,’ I didn’t leave a scratch on it. I picked the lock with a paper clip." He still looked immensely pleased with himself. "No one will be the wiser come tomorrow morning, never fear."
"Okay, so you broke in to the lab and found my disk... how’d you get all scratched up?"
"That came later. So, I found a disk marked "Buffy Giles" and I returned to the library to find the student. He put it in the computer at the circulation desk and couldn’t find your story anywhere."
"WHAT? Oh, no! Now I’m really screwed... hey, wait a minute, what did it have written on it? You probably got last semester’s disk!"
"The student surmised as much. We went back to the lab for a second look round. Just as you said, we found a second disk with your name written on it, so we felt sure we’d gotten it right this time. All would have been well if we had gone back to the library right then."
"Someone caught you?"
"In a manner of speaking. We were in the office in back of the lab, ready to print your story, when I heard the hall door close. The student, I believe his name was Rocky, saw my reaction, and surmised that I wasn’t really supposed to be there. He wanted to hide, so we did. Good thing, too. The next thing we knew, there were a half-dozen vampires in the room."
"Vampires! Oh, my God, Rupert! What were they doing at the school?"
"I wondered the same thing. They weren’t hiding their demon visages... and they seemed to know their way around a computer lab. They proceeded to sit down and start working with the computers... I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
"The boy was terrified, of course, but I managed to keep him quiet. He knew they were vampires... he must’ve been a Sunnydale native. I wanted to escape, but there was no back door. So, I decided to find out what was so enthralling on those computers that vampires would break into a school to get at it."
"Did you find out?"
"Not right away. After about ten minutes, they finished, turned everything off and left. Unfortunately for myself and the student, they also locked the door behind them. I had to tell the boy the truth, then... that I didn’t work at the school, I didn’t actually have a key, that I’d been an ass and had a fight with my wife, who was a student there, and had broken into the lab so I could print out her homework and not have to sleep on the couch."
Buffy giggled madly at the thought of her oh-so-proper-professor husband admitting to a teen-age student that he became a felon so he could go to bed with his wife! It was too funny!
Giles sighed deeply. "Well, it was far too late to worry about decorum by then. We were locked in, there were vampires about, and the only weapons at hand were the wooden cross round my neck and a handful of pencils."
"Pencils work." She remembered staking a vamp with her trusty No. 2 right before her SATs.
"They do, indeed. I explained to the boy how to stake a vampire, if it came down to fighting. He seemed pretty stout... I believe he said he was on the wrestling team."
"Rocky... Oh! You mean you got stuck in the lab with Randall "Rocky" Stevens? He’s not just on the team, he IS the team! The guy is tough as nails, and cute, too!"
Giles frowned at the last comment, but refused to be baited. "Yes, well, good thing he was tough. We ended up fighting our way out."
"Why didn’t you call me? There was a phone in the office!" She grew alarmed at the thought of her Watcher and a strange student fighting off six vampires alone. "You could’ve been KILLED!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Don’t EVER do that again! Not when you could’ve called!"
He reassured her by taking her hands and holding them in his lap. "I would have, if I had thought of it. I had no intention of fighting. I had intended for us to climb out the office window and escape. Except that the window was painted shut, and even with the two of us working on it, it took another ten minutes to get the blasted thing open. By that time, the vampires had returned, and we were making enough noise for them to hear us."
Shivers ran up and down Buffy’s spine. "I don’t know if I want to hear the rest... it scares me to death." She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "If something had happened to you, just ‘cause of that stupid paper, I could never forgive myself."
"Shush, now, none of that. It’s all put right, now. That ‘stupid paper’ was my fault, remember? Do you want me to continue, or not?"
She drew a deep breath and told herself not to be overly sensitive. He was fine... sitting right beside her. She nodded, and he continued.
"To continue, then... the lab office was so small that the vampires couldn’t rush us. I tried a bit of bravado, and demanded to know why they were trespassing. One of them, probably the ring leader, said that Mr. Trick once showed them how to use the internet to communicate with vampires in other cities. He was quite cocky about it. He said they were planning to overthrow the current Boss Vampire and make themselves at home in Sunnydale. They were sending messages to their cohorts, and had come back for their replies. After he gloated for a bit, he sent his cronies in two at a time to ‘take care’ of us. I must say, Rocky held up his end quite well. There were only six of the creatures, so we made short work of them, including the ring leader."
"You dusted six vamps?" She looked at him with growing awe. "With only a ‘civilian’ to help you?" She kissed his cheek admiringly. "My Hero!" The grin on her face grew as he blushed slightly.
"Well, I took care of four, and he actually staked two, though the first was accidental. It slipped on a pencil he had dropped on the floor, and fell against him. Rocky just happened to be holding another pencil just right... To his credit, he didn’t faint, or freeze up, stout lad. He just turned round and came at another vampire, and staked him before it could get its bearings."
"Sounds like he may’ve seen something like that before.. I don’t remember too many names from High School... maybe he was in one of my classes... we all saw some pretty weird stuff by the time we graduated."
"Perhaps so. Well, then, after we’d disposed of the vampires, Rocky decided to reply to all the messages the vampires were waiting for. I don’t know what he wrote, but he chuckled the whole time he was typing. I doubt that Sunnydale will be invaded any time soon.
"I printed out your story, we shut everything off and were going to climb out the window. Unfortunately, there were holly bushes planted right underneath the windows to deter pranksters from breaking in. The groundskeepers probably didn’t think anyone would be breaking *out*. We stood there on the desk for a minute, looking at those dratted bushes. I had about decided to call you and confess all when I heard the blasted hall door open for the *third* time. I think it was the custodian locking up. I didn’t take time to discover who it was for sure; I just jumped."
"And landed in the sticker bushes."
"And landed in the sticker bushes." He repeated, wincing. "That wouldn’t have been too bad... tweed is quite good protection, actually... except that Rocky jumped out right after I did, and landed on top of me."
"Is that where you lost your glasses? And why your briefcase has a big hole in it?"
"Yes, it is, and... oh, dear, I do hope your papers are intact!" He sprang up and grabbed the attaché. Laying it on the desk, he popped the catches and sighed with relief. "Thank God, they’re fine. They were protected by the divider." He took them out carefully and put them on the desk. "There. You see? One Creative Writing assignment, unedited, nicely printed, and not a mark on it. No one but Rocky knows of my little visit, and he won’t be telling the tale, I feel sure. Six annoying vampires have been staked, with no hospitalization required. And, I can probably find my glasses tomorrow morning. I doubt anyone else would risk tearing the skin off their arms to pick them up." He closed the case and set it beside the desk before returning to Buffy and his cozy spot on the couch. He looked immensely pleased with himself and his little adventure.
"Don’t get too comfortable, babe." Buffy stood, arms crossed.
Giles’ face fell. "Ah, does that mean you’re still upset with me?" He stood up next to her, unsure of her motives. His jovial mood had vanished.
"It just means ‘don’t get too comfortable’ down here. Unless you WANT to sleep on the couch tonight..."
"*No*! No, not at all, not really... so, I’m forgiven, then?" He tilted her chin up and gazed hopefully into her dark blue eyes.
She couldn’t help smiling at the look on his face... how could she stay mad at him when he was so cute?
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pull him down for a lingering kiss. Her tongue grazed his as he responded, relieved and eager to get on with more interesting pursuits. When her hands slid down to his shoulders and encountered the ragged shreds of his shirt, she broke the kiss and took his hand. She led him towards the stairs, chuckling to herself.
"I’ll forgive you... after I clean up all those cuts. A little alcohol and a cotton swab will be punishment enough, I bet."
He groaned inwardly... the scratches smarted badly now... after she got through ‘doctoring’ him, his whole body would be one giant stinging sensation. "Oh, dear..." he breathed, his stomach contracting as he thought about just how much this was going to hurt. ‘Fitting punishment for being a cad.’ He thought sadly.
Buffy laughed in agreement. "It’s not all bad news, Rupert. ‘Cause when I’m finished, I’m gonna kiss every cut and make them all better."
* * *