Fic: Dianna Wears Red-Secundus: First Test

[Mad Hamlet <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Inc. (And he's
grinding it into the ground.)


Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production


Suffer not thy enimies to live;
Yet insure they live to suffer.
-The Book Of Rage


Dianna Wears Red
Secundus	

The First Test	  

The wind gently blows the branch outside our window aside letting the morning
sun hit me in the face; then the branch swings back into place cutting it off.
Then the wind blows it aside again and I get another faceful of sun. Light
dark light dark light dark...this strobe affect is really annoying.

I roll over to hide my face and my arm hits the lump lying beside me.

"Ow," says the lump. The bed shifts and I feel the covers tugged as the lump
sits up. "Ow, Willow, you hit me in the head." 

The bed shakes. Buffy must be rubbing her probably not injured knoggin. 

Hold it.

Sun?

Bed? 

Covers?          

I sit up in bed and stare around the room. "Looking for something?" she asks
me innocently.

"But- but- but-" I stammer. 

"A very nice one," Buffy interrupts peeking under the covers.

"No I mean," I keep stammering. "There was a lake and it was dark and
...and...we fell asleep there!"

Buffy doesn't say anything.

"It was a dream wasn't it?" I ask, turning to look at her. 

Buffy smiles slightly but says nothing.

Wha? "But," I start.
	
"Nicely curved," Buffy interrupts me. 

I roll my eyes. "Enough with the innuendoes, Buffy," I say. 

"Not innuendoes, honest opinion," she replies stretching. Buffy stretching
does all sorts of insane things to my brain, top most being shutting it down
completely. I'm pretty sure she knows exactly what she does to me when she
stretches like that. Slowly, languidly, raising her arms over her head,
arching her back and thrusting out her chest. 

Buffy finishes her stretch and yawn. "You were saying something, Will?" she
asks me smiling innocently. 

"Uh...that is...um...Beach!" I cry desperately. My mind clings to that word
like a lifeline, pulling itself free from a torrential hormone storm.

"Beach?" Buffy repeats my word in an amused tone, eyebrows raised. 

"There...there was a beach and...and...." My voice dies away and I hunch
forward, letting my shoulders sag. It couldn't have been just a dream, it was
so beautiful and...and I learned how to be free there and it was scary,
terrifying really but so very good. 

I stare at Buffy mournfully, sticking out my lower lip in a pout I feel.
"Tell me it wasn't a dream," I whimper. "Please?"

Buffy leans forward and quiets me with a gentle finger across my lips. "Shhh,
sshhh," she whispers as she runs the fingers of her other hand through my
hair. 

"It wasn't a dream," she says softly. "It was real, the lake, the dark,
falling asleep on the beach. It really happened."

"Oh," I sniffle. "Good. How, how'd we get back in the dorm though?" 

Buffy shrugs slightly and the hormone tide makes an unexpected surge.
"Carried you after you fell asleep."

"Buffy, I was covered in sand, how the heck did you get that off me?" 

Buffy grins. "Did you know you babble the strangest things when you're being
held upright under a lukewarm shower?"

Aaaannndd I'm already blushing for the first time today and it's only...I
glance at the clock...eight thirty five. A new record.

"Eight thirty five?" I screech loudly. "I'm gonna be late!" I jump out of
the bed and try and dash across the room to my closet. I trip on a bump in the
rug and settle for scrambling on all fours. Behind me I hear Buffy murmur,
"Definitely a nice butt."

I glare at her over my shoulder while slipping on a pair of panties. "You are
so not helping right now you know that?" I growl while shoving my arm in the
wrong strap of my bra and it takes me precious seconds to realize I'm wearing
it backwards. 

"Sorry Will," Buffy snickers quietly and takes a deep breath then leans back
slowly against her pillow. Hormone surge number two makes me pause in my hasty
dressing. "The luxury of a ten o'clock class is a wonderful thing." Buffy
sighs. "You could always forget about it, Willow. You could always come back
to bed."

She stares at me, her eyes half shut, at my partially dressed body. Her look
is hot, like a desert wind; its dry and rough across my skin. My cheeks
flush, getting warmer; I want to look away. I have an urge to cover my
nakedness. I+IBk-m embarrassed to be stared at by Buffy now. It+IBk-s +ICY-a
possessive. I don+IBk-t feel very comfortable.

"Classes aren+IBk-t everything, Willow," Buffy says. She raises her legs slowly
and kicks the covers off; they slide to the ground silently. Buffy pulls her
feet underneath her and leans forward, stretching across the top of the bed,
arms outstretched, shoulders hunched. 

"Come back to bed Willow?" she asks me plaintively. She curles her fingers
into claws and digs them into the sheet cover, pulling slowly until the
material bunches up underneath her. "Please?" She purrs. 

The purr is heavy and guttural and makes the hairs on the back of my neck
stand up. "Buffy," I say crossly shrugging on a shirt, label in the back
thank you very much, "What's gotten into you?" 

Buffy blinks rapidly and the heated, hungry, dangerous look is gone. Silently
she pushes the sheets away and pads across the room. I fasten the snap on the
dress I randomly grab from the closet. "Sorry again," she says gently taking
my hand. "You...were just so cute looking." She squeezes my hand gently. "I
didn't mean anything."

I nod quickly and smile a bit at her apologetic expression. Eyes down casta
little, lower lip going all poutyish. "S'okay," I reply. I stroke her cheek
with the thumb of my free hand. "But you're buying lunch!" Then I yank my hand
from hers before she can react and run out the door grabbing my bag on the
way, laughing. As I shut the door I hear her clearly shout, "Hey!"

***


Don't like having to settle for young game; they should be given a chance to
mature, increase their numbers before being hunted. That young stag was the
only thing around though, other than possum. I hate eating possum. The stag
died quick at least and I'm not hungry anymore. 

Shifting my weight from one leg to the other stimulates bloodflow, keeps the
muscles from cramping. Crouching in a tree is boring work though, at least it
gives me a view of the Target's window. Such as it is. Don't have the option
of moving in closer though, if it's as wild as I've been told there's a chance
that it could catch my scent. Can't have that happen. These binoculars are
next to useless what with the rising sun reflecting off the windows. 

So. I can't see anything from this vantage point and I can't afford to move
closer. Why am I here?

'Because the Council has you over a barrel,' that very unhelpful, but
practical, part of my mind reminds me.  

In an effort to ignore it I run over, again, what I know about this Target. 

Fast, preternaturally fast. I saw it, actually it was carrying someone, come
out of their window last night and they were gone in an eyeblink. No way could
I keep up. Since it was carrying someone and moving that fast I would guess
the rumors about its strength aren+IBk-t exaggerated either. Cunning as well.
Even after they were gone I still couldn't find any tracks. Tree jumper then,
still some of these trees are quite a distance apart yet there were still no
tracks; more evidence of the target's strength. What does that leave me with?

Head on confrontation is out. This prey would smear me. Okay then, what else
we got?

Could use it's friends, family I suppose but I really am not willing to do
that, not at least when there are other options. What are they though; c'mon
think already!

Okay...we also know that it goes out almost every night to hunt. What doesit
hunt? Easy, it hunts vampires and all sorts of other night spawn. 

Where does one find night spawn? 

Again easy, the Cemetery. 

I smack myself in the forehead. I am definitely getting slow as I age. Okay,
trail the roommate this morning than go and check out the undercommunity. See
where the Target likes to hunt best. 

I think in this case the path to a successful hunt is to create the
situation.

Right then, got a plan. Or the beginnings of one, huh? Wind's shifted.
Blowing from behind me.

'Time to move to another tree,' Practical mind pipes up.

Hell with that lets go round the front of the building, wait for the roommate
this 'Willow Rosenberg'.

***

	
I dash down the stairs ignoring the looks that I get. They've gotten more
numerous, guess the rumor is still running rampant even though Buffy kissedme
in front of everybody nearly a week ago. Honestly you'd think these people
would have more interesting things to talk about.

I stop by one of the vending machines in the dorm lottery and feed it a few
coins. There are few hushed conversations going on around me. I try not to
imagine they're about me, in all likelihood not many of them are. The bottle
of fruit punch lands at the bottom of the machine with a solid clunk. Grabbing
it I twist off the top and give a good chug. The hushed talk doesn't bother
me; I developed a pretty thick skin in High School. 

Cordelia actually did me a favor, who woulda thunk? Maybe I should send her a
card.

'Dear Cordy, thanks for being a total bitch for most of High School. Because
of you I can now easily withstand the whispering and the stares from people
who know I'm sleeping with another woman. 

I owe you a coke. 

Love Willow. 	

PS. Love being a polite term, you're cute n'everything but not my type.'

Hmmm....

Nah.

Pushing open the door I nearly run into a small group of girls. They stareat
me blankly for a few seconds, seconds I don't have. 'Scuse me, late for class,
comin' through." I mutter pushing my way past them. 

The instant I'm free of them they burst into nervous giggles. "Did she touch
you?" I hear one girl hiss. 

"I can't believe it." Another says not too quietly.

"Looking us in the eyes like that, who does she think she is?" A third voice
pops up before I'm out of earshot.

That last statement echoes in my mind as I walk briskly across the campus to
the class. 'Who does she think she is?' 

'Who does she thinks she is?'

'Who does she think she is?'

'Who does she think she is?'

'Who do I think I am?'

I suddenly feel like smiling. Smiling for a long long time. I know who I am.
I'm Willow Rosenberg. Jewish computer geek, practicing witch, fighter of
darkness for most of my adolescence and been partially responsible for saving
this world a good number of times. Above that though, beyond all those things
I'm the person Buffy Summers loves. 
	
That's who I am.

And if those stupid ladies don't get it, than they won't get it because I got
it and the getting...I mean having is good!

Besides, if they ever really annoy me I can always just hack their G.P.A
scores. Oooh, bad Willow, thinking thoughts like that. I'm still smiling.

I reach the classroom and give the double doors a solid push but they don't
budge. There's only the solid clank of a heavy latch colliding with the inner
doorframe. Like anybody else in this situation I act totally stupid; I don't
believe the door is still locked and give another push just to check, as if
the universe is fooling me, but the latch just goes clunk again. Then I step
back away from the door puzzled. Of course that's when I notice the note
carefully taped to the door that for some reason I didn't notice in the first
place, life's funny like that. Moving forward slightly I read the note.

CLASSES CANCELLED FOR THE WEEK

TEACHER TAKEN ILL.

There's a few more lines about who to contact for assignments and other
stuff. I take off my backpack, rummage around and grab a notebook. Then I
carefully write down the information. Phone numbers and email addresses
etc...etc.... 

Someone brushes past me, it's another student. He grabs the handle of the
door and gives it a solid push. Of course it remains locked.

"Huh?" The student says, looking confused. He too gives the door another
push. Well, at least it's not just me. When the door refuses to open a second
time he does pretty much what I did; stare at it in confusion than he notices
the note. 

"Well, that's a pretty good start to the day," he says to no one in
particular. "Hey," he turns to me. "Any idea what's the dea-whoa!"

"Whoa?" I ask him. "What's whoa?"

"Er...uh..."he stammers and seems very interested in the floor. "Nothin',"he
mumbles. "Gotta go, scuze me."

I stare after him for a few seconds than shrug my shoulders. I'm smart enough
to understand, maybe, why he reacted that way. I just don't care. I finish
writing down the contact info and shove the notebook back into my bag,
re-shoulder it and head for the door that leads back to the campus. 

I sure hope nothing Hellmouthy has happened to my professor. He's okay.

Now what to do, what to do. Buffy suggested coming back to bed and the idea
has certain appeal. I mean it really has certain appeal, really real real
appeal! Real real reality real real-

"Hey! Watch it!" I shout as a student walks into me. My backpack slips offmy
shoulders and lands on the floor with a loud thud.


"Try not standing in the middle of the hallway then," the female student who
just collided with me snaps back. "What the heck were you thinking about
anyway?"


My face gets hot. Willow-Blush take two. What time is it now? Nine o'three;
another new record. 

"Nothin'," I say quickly grabbing my bag. I walk away from Ms. Cranky Face
quickly and exit the building. I could go back to the dorm I suppose, Buffy
would be thrilled, and if things went well we'd both wind up thrilled. The
strap of my backpack digs into my shoulder. 

I sigh.

Or I could go to the library and do the homework I skipped last night.

Being responsible sucks.

With my destination reluctantly chosen I walk down the path that leads to the
campus library. Even though it's early the sun is really coming down on us.
The heat wave is still in effect; around me students are lounging in the grass
between classes. Some lying down, reading a textbook or something. Others are
sitting with their backs against the trees, chatting or just thinking. Noneof
them notice me walking past.

'Good', I think to myself. 'I've had enough attention for one day.'

"I'm telling you man, that's what I saw. Ask him, he saw them at it too." A
voice says.

I glance in the direction I hear the voices. Three young men are walking down
the path toward me. I can make out the faces of two of them but the third one
I can+IBk-t make out. Probably because he+IBk-s walking behind the other two. 

I shrug, just guys doing the guy talk thing.

"I did man, hottest thing I've seen this side of a television screen, or an R
rated movie!" The second boy says excitedly. 

I ignore them, what does what they're saying have to do with me? Gotta getto
the library, lots of work to catch up on and I only have two hours to get it
all done.

"You two are nuts you know that? There is no way that happened, believe meI
know. I have...you could say...a bit of inner knowledge on this subject."

Oh no. That voice I can't ignore. Hoped he'd be smart enough to stay out of
our way but I'm not that lucky. 

I glance in the direction I heard the voices, yep. There he is, still behind
his two friends. They+IBk-ve gotten close enough so I can recognize him. I'd
recognize those big expressive eyes, corny hairstyle and arrogant smirk
anywhere.

Parker.

I had this thing I did when I was in High School and didn't want to be
noticed. I'd hunker down a bit; try to hide in my clothes, pay a lot of
attention to my feet and walk a bit faster. I notice I'm doing it now. Maybe
he won't see-

"Willow!"

Didn't work in High School that often either.

Take a deep breath, okay...hold it...hold it...hold it. Now, let it out
slowly evenly out your nose. There isn't that much better?

Parker walks up to me.

Nope, still want to beat him over the head with a blunt object. 

"Willow, hey how ya doin'?" Parker says. "You won't believe what these two
morons told me." He points with his finger at the two guys who are standing
behind him. Both look at me and then instantly look elsewhere. The one on the
left is studying a tree while the one on the right has taken a new interestin
the textbook he+IBk-s holding. 

"Uh, Parker," one of them says.

Parker ignores him, "They're telling me that that they saw Buffy kissing
another girl in the quad. And not a platonic kiss but supposedly a full on the
mouth tonsil washing kiss," he gives a derisive snort.

"Like a kiss you give someone you're in," he makes quotation marks in the air
with his fingers. "Love with."

"Parker!" His friend hisses at him.

"How is Buffy anyway?" Parker asks me jovially. "She okay? I mean no hard
feelings or anything? I think she saved my life after that fire a few weeks
back but I'm not sure. I'd like to make it up to her, got any suggestions?"
What next? Is he going to pat me on the back conspiratorially or something?

"Parker!" his friend shouts.

"What?" Parker shouts turning around to face him. "Can't you see I'm busy
here? Interrupting like that. No one wonder you're hard up for a date."

His fiend points at me nervously, "That's the girl that Buffy chick was
kissing!"

Buffy chick? 

Parker looks back at me over his shoulder, he looks confused. "Heh, what?"

I just smile at him politely and fold my arms across my chest. 

"That's a joke right?" Parker looks back at his friend than back at me.
"You're kidding right? Some sort of joke or something?"

"Gosh Parker," I say calmly. "You must be really bad in bed. Drove poor Buffy
into the arms of another woman."

I shake my head slowly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Parker turns around slowly and then looks at me, totally, up and down as if
he's never seen me before. "You're sick," he finally says and spins on his
heel and starts to walk away.

"Sick am I?" I say loudly. "How am I the sick one when you're the one who
goes around looking for hurt girls, seducing them and then just dropping them
once you got what you wanted: Them in bed?"

Parker freezes and one of his friends gives a low whistle. 

"I did not seduce Buffy," Parker says calmly. He turns around. "I gave her
what she needed, a night of pleasure. Of feeling appreciated, I did her a
favor."

If I was holding any books I'd drop them. No, I'd throw them at him, either
way they wouldn't be in my hands anymore. "A favor?" I repeat his words. "You
hurt her you poop-head!"

"I'm a what?" Parker asks his eyebrows shooting above his hairline.

"A poop-head," I repeat. "No, no you're not a poop-head. That would be an
insult to poop-heads everywhere." I step toward him and say my words slowly
and clearly so there's no chance of him misunderstanding all these big words
I'm using. "You're a...you're a...homo boobious! Not even related to the human
species just some offshoot of evolution that somehow got overlooked."

"You are sick," Parker decries, stabbing at me with a finger. "And somehow
you've twisted Buffy all around backwards."

He grins a very slithery grin. "Maybe I should pay her a visit. Get her back
on 'the right side of the fence'."

"Parker, man," one of his friends says quietly.

"No, no," Parker responds quickly without taking his eyes off me. "It's
cool." He gets right in my face, his nose inches from mine staring down at me
like I'm a product he can select off a shelf, not a some one...just a thing.

"Maybe," and he says these words quietly, so quietly I'm sure I'm the only
one who can hear them. "Maybe I'll even do you a favor," he breathes. "I'd be
settling for less than average but I could consider it my duty as a
gentleman."

Screw it, I'm gonna fry him.
	
"Excuse me," someone else says. "I can't help but notice the confrontational
nature of this conversation."

The guy who just appeared is big. Dressed in jeans, a denim shirt unbuttoned
down the front with a pea-green t-shirt underneath. Short, light brown hair, a
flat non-compromising expression on his face, big arms crossed across his
chest and that chest is at my eye level which means he's big. Really big.

Parker looks up at him.

"I'd hate to think you were threatening this young lady," the stranger
continues. Only he's not a stranger, I know him from somewhere. 

"'Cause if you were that would mean I'd have to go and act macho," The
stranger leans forward. Yeah he's definitely intruding on Parker's personal
space now. Yay. "What with this being the twenty-first century, a kinder,
gentler millennium, that would be frowned upon." He leans forward more forcing
Parker to look up to maintain eye contact. "But I'm willing to make that
sacrifice," the stranger growls.

Parker visibly swallows; his friends say nothing.

"Jesus, Riley," Parker murmurs. "No need to get so hostile an stuff'. S'not
like I was going to actually do anything."

"Parker," Riley says. Now I know where I've seen him. He's the TA in my psych
class. "You almost never actually do anything. You just say lots."

Riley suddenly backs off a bit, giving Parker some breathing room. "But
that's okay," he says smiling a friendly smile. "'Cause this is a free country
and there is freedom of speech."

Parker's shoulders slump as he relaxes. 

"Having such freedom," Riley nobly intones. "I take this moment to tell you,
you have thirty seconds to get out of my sight."

Parker does a double take, "Huh?" he says. 

"Riley man," he continues. "You don't get it. This girl, Willow, she did
something to a friend of mine. She's a dyke!"

Riley raises one eyebrow, "So?"

"So?" Parker sounds outraged. "She turned my friend into a rugmuncher like
her!"

Rugmuncher? Wha? Oh, I get it. Hey!

"Your friend," Riley replies skeptically. "One of your conquests you mean?"

"I don't conquer women!" Parker practically shouts, the veins in his neck
standing out. "I give them a good time."

"You generous soul," Riley snickers, rolling his eyes. I give a quiet snort
and fight of the urge to grin. I really shouldn+IBk-t be enjoying this.

"Hey, back off Riley, let me fix this." Parker shoves his finger in Riley's
face. "I know how to make this right. Just gotta be-"

Parker is interrupted by Riley hitting him. He rolls on the ground hands
clasped to his face and staring up at Riley in fear. 

"Freedom of speech is one thing," Riley says glaring down at Parker. "Freedom
of stupidity is something else."

Would it be bad taste to applaud?

Parker scrambles to his feet and walks quickly away without looking back.
Glancing at Riley his two friends follow him hastily. Riley turns to me, his
arms loose at his sides, not threatening in any way, big friendly smile on his
face.

"Hi," he says offering his hand in greetings. "My name+IBk-s Riley Finn."

"Uh, Willow," I reply. I slowly take his hand and try and give it a firm
shake. I know I hate it when people give me limp, slack, wet handshakes.
Trouble is I can't quite wrap my hand around his fingers. 

"I thought you looked familiar," Riley says releasing my hand. "You're in Dr.
Walsh's Abnormal Psche class right?"

I nod. I'm still coming to grips with just how far up I have to look at this
guy. He's big, I said that already, I mean I thought that already
and...and...HEY! Who does he think he is butting in on my battles. I could
have handled Parker no sweat and Mr. Hero comes waltzing in to save the day.
Jerk.

"Uh, thanks for the help," My mouth says. Traitor. 

Riley smirks. "Help? With Parker?" 
	
He shakes his head chuckling, "No, I'm sure you had everything well in hand.
Maybe I shortened it somewhat."

Darn, he's modest and charming too. I'm probably going to wind up liking the
big palooka. 

"Willow!" A voice behind me calls. Riley glances over my shoulder and I turn
around to see Buffy running across the campus. Her long hair is whipping
behind her, her backpack carelessly slung over one shoulder. I see she's stuck
with the simple jeans and t-shirt look today. "Willow!" she calls again.

Breathing heavily, she's faking I can tell, Buffy reaches me and Riley. "Hey
there," she says smiling at me. 

"Hi Buffy," I say returning her smile. I want to hug her. The impulse is
strong and immediate; an ache in my arms, they're complaining that they're a
little cold and some Buffy-Body Heat would hit the spot. I don't. I guess I'm
not comfortable enough to be so brazen in public. 

Buffy must read my mind because she's enveloped me in a huge hug. "Missed
you," she whispers in my ear. I can't reply, too busy sighing in contentment.


Letting me go, aw, she steps back and looks up at Riley who's watched all
this with a slight smile. "Hello," she says to him. She looks at me smilinga
wicked grin. "Did I miss something or are you gettin' bored already Will?"

I think I'll fall over now.

"Wha?!" I shriek. "No! Nothing like that Buffy." And I'm staring at my shoes
again. Without looking up I decide to make introductions. I wave my hand
feebly in the direction I think Riley is in. "Uh...Riley Finn this is
my...uh...."

"Girlfriend," Buffy says.

"Girlfriend," I weakly echo. "Buffy Summers." The embarrassment is very
unwelcome. 

"Oh I know Ms Summers." Riley says. Without lifting my head I glance at the
two of them through my bangs. 

"Yeah?" Buffy asks a little cockily. "How?"

"Should say I know about you Ms Summers," Riley continues. "You're a bit of a
legend in the psyche dept."

I can literally see Buffy beginning to preen. 

"Not everyone hands in test answers about the Ego, Super-Ego and
Super-Duper-Ego." Riley concludes.

Buffy visibly deflates. "Uh...." she whimpers. 

I decide to go back studying the tips of my shoes. Not that I'm embarrassed
anymore but I want to be sure Buffy doesn't see me chewing on my knuckle
trying not to laugh. 

"Well," I say loudly. "Thanks for the help Riley. C'mon Buffy let's head to
the library and hit the books."

"Help?" Buffy looks at me, slightly puzzled; then her expression changes to
one of mild panic. "Books?"

"My pleasure," Riley replies with a slight nod. "I've been looking for an
excuse to hit Parker for a while." 

"Parker?" Buffy's eyes widen. "You met Parker?"

"Tell ya later," I say grabbing her arm and dragging her in the direction of
the library. "Bye Riley."

"See you in class," he says and resumes walking down the path.

***

I look around slowly. 

Okay. There is nothing significantly different about this cemetery from the
far to many others dotting this town. 

So why does the Slayer come here nearly every night? Gotta be something goin'
on here. 

Took some time but I managed to finally find a bit of her trail. If I'm right
she comes into the cemetery from a large oak that marks the northern boundary
of this deadland. So I should set up the snare there. Course that means I'll
have to find something that can hold a preternaturally strong killing machine.


I exit the cemetery and have a sigh of relief. There's something about places
like that that I can't stand. Even Nature seems to abhor the cemeteries around
here. There's this constant sense of suspense in the air. A giant string
getting more and more taunt as the seconds of the day tick past. I hate it.
Heck in comparison standing on the side of the road with car exhaust clogging
my lungs is a picnic. 

I sit on a bench and ignore the people staring ...at.... okay. Nobody IS
staring at me. This is a weird town. 

Now, how to snare a Slayer?

I think.

I ponder.

I muse.

I puzzle. 

I...run out of adjectives. Oh...wait...brainstorm. 

There's a forty-something man standing at the bustop right next to the bench.
I grab his shoulder and spin him around. 

"Excuse me," I say cordially. He glances at me before looking me in the
eyes.

"Yes?" He inquires politely.

"Uh, where's the local mall?" I ask.

"Two blocks down that road," he replies pointing. "Then take a left and
another block."

"Thanks," I say. I inhale deeply. I shudder a bit but hold the air in my
lungs. "Some advice in exchange for your help." I say, exhaling. "Less red
meat."

Patting his cheek gently I take off at a brisk jog in the directions
indicated. Won't be dark for hours but I have a lot of prep work to do.

***


"Aw Willow," Buffy whines. "Why do we have to be in here?" 

Here being the absolutely huge library of UC Sunnydale. "You actually put
down 'Super-Duper-Ego'?" I answer her question with another. 

"It was an honest mistake," Buffy grumbles.

"You have got to spend more time here, Buffy," I say shaking my head. We head
behind the stacks into a far corner where an isolated table and two chairs sit
in the corner of the cavernous library. Next to the last shelf of books isa
narrow door marked 'Janitor's Closet'. This is my favorite place to study.
Isolated, warm, cozy, and well lit.

"So...why are we here, exactly?" Buffy asks dropping her backpack onto the
table. 

"Homework," I reply unslinging my own pack.

"Homework?" Buffy repeats the word as a question. Something in her voice
makes me glance up from taking my books out of my bag. Buffy's grin is wide,
white, sharp looking and...uh-oh, hungry.

Buffy blurs, a sensation of being lifted, a short squeak of forced metal and
the next thing I know I'm in the closet, literally. I'm gently being pressed
against the wall, Buffy pushing up against me. Her hands guide mine to the
wall and hold them there, with only a little force. 

"Buffy, what?" I stammer. "What are you doing?"

Her long hair falls across the back of my neck and she whispers into my ear,
"Homework."

I try to push off the wall, to get some room but then she presses a little
bit harder against my back. I can feel the swell of her breasts pushing
against me, her pelvis leaning against my...uh...me, all the strength has left
my arms. "Buffy wait," I whine. 

She nudges my feet gently with her own, spreading my legs just a little. 
"Why?" she breathes into my ear; the warm air brushing across my neck. Chilly
tingles race down my spine. 

"Buffy we can't-" I begin to protest. The tip of her tongue slowly slides
along the edge of my ear. Hot, her tongue is so hot. And wet. "Nnnn," I sigh,
my head arches back a little, pulling away.

"Thought you'd like that," Buffy whispers. More chills. Her fingers, like
warm soft +ICY-steel, are splayed over mine. The heat is rushing up my skin. Her
lips are pressed against the back of my neck and it arches away again. 

No, no, no. Focus Rosenberg. Academia, degrees...again with the
tongue...arrgh. Uh...er...public places and social responsibility. She's not
pressing my hands against the wall anymore but mine stay anyway like they're
glued there. 

"Risky," I stammer. Now I'm actually muttering all the reasons this is a bad
idea. "Public embarrassment...ahh." She buries her face in the little hollow
where my neck and shoulder meet and breathes warm air over my skin. "Please,
please+ICY-Buffy we can't."

Buffy's ignores what I say and instead her hands have slid down over my
torso, my waist, my thighs....

"Not make dean's list," I squeak from between clenched teeth. I pant
slightly, my own tongue flickers out to lick the sweat from my lips. "Buffy."

Her fingers hook under the edge of my dress and she drags her fingertips,
just the nails really, up my bare inner thighs. She takes my earlobe between
her lips and suckles.

Can't keep my head up, let it rest against the wall+ICY-hard to+ICY-breathe.

"Other students," I whimper. "They're close, could find us Buffy. They're so
close...close...closer...God."

And I can't think of any other reasons why this is a bad idea.

***

Damn, almost ten in the morning and I'm not even halfway through this pileof
papers to be corrected. 'Be All That You Can Be' never mentioned anything like
this. I glance at the clock on my desk again. Shit, I've got fifteen minutes
to finish this pile of papers or Dr. Walsh will not be happy. I eye the
remaining papers, a pile at least half an inch thick. 

"Just get it done, Riley." I mutter to myself and reach for the paper on top
of the stack. Then someone knocks on my door. 

"This better be good," I say loudly getting to my feet. Crossing my room I
fling the door open.

"Yeah whaddya- Oh it's you." I say.

I walk back to my desk and sit back down, swiviling the chair so I'm now
facing my door. "Shut the door." I command.

Parker, holding a wet rag to his now very swollen nose, kicks the door shut
and sits down on the edge of my bed. Great, now the sheets will be all oily. 

"Riley," Parker says nasaly. "Punching me in the nose was never part of the
deal."

Actually he says 'Wiwwey, punding me in da node wa' nevwer pawt of da deal.'
Oooo...you wasicly wabbit.

I shrug. "I'd apologise, Parker. But that might give you some idea that I
like you and we couldn't have that."

He surges to his feet and takes a step toward me. "Wanna another bop?" I ask
him casually still leaning back in my chair. "Even out the pair? Complete the
collection?"

He freezes. Jee, maybe he's smarter than he looks. 

"Fine," he nods, sitting back down. "Whatever. Gonna cost you extra though."


I shrug again and reach into my back pocket, Parker tenses up and I smile at
him slowly, than I take my hand out holding my wallet. Parker relaxes, leaning
foward, resting one elbow on his knee; Trying to look cool. How he thinks he
can look cool with a bloody cloth on his face is beyond me.

"BANG!" I suddenly shout pointing my forfinger at him. Parker jumps three
feet straight in the air. When he sees me chuckling at him he stands there
staring at me. "That wasn't funny man!" He says loudly. "That wasn't fucking
funny!"

"Oh I dunno," I choke out between chuckles. "It's all a matter of
perspective." 

I flip open the wallet and hand him two hundreds. "Here," I say. "One hundred
per our agreement and second hundred for 'Bravery beyond the call of duty'." I
say that last part like a old, pompous general. Parker snatches the money from
my hand angrily. "And here's a fifty for the amusment." I say tossing the last
bill at his feet. 

Parker glares at me. The one nostril not covered up by the 'bandage' flares a
few times. His eyes are bright and shiny, his jaw muscles stand out in stark
relief on his pale face. Then he bends over, grabs the fifty dollar and bill
and turns towards the door.

I wait just until he's got his hand on the doorknob and is about to open it
before I say anything. "Parker," I say quietly. He turns his head to stare at
me over his shoulder. Now I see a little fear. Good. "Just remember." And I
bring my finger to my lips and go 'Shhhhhhh.'

Parker stares at me for a few more seconds, nods once quickly and flings the
door open. 

"Oh and Willow was right," I call after him. "You are a poop-head."

He slams the door.

I turn back to the paper. I have twelve minutes now to get this done.
Something even I can't do. I just hope Dr. Walsh will be more pleased that
I've made contact with The Target than dissapointed that I didn't get all the
papers graded. 

"Homo-Boobius," I mutter. Then I chuckle. "That's funny."


END-First Lesson


Authors Notes: The Book Of Rage is my creation.


I corrupt and twist;
I capture and bind.
What you believe yours,
Has always been mine.
 
-Mad Hamlet