Disclaimer: Not mine, but geez I like playing with other people’s toys.

Author’s note: Dialogue taken from the ep ‘Puppet Show’ Much hugs and thanks to the fabulous Bloodytearsoflife for her input, excitement and betaing goodness.
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Spike walked the hallways of Sunnydale High. The whole idea ruffled his feathers. And the outfit. Spike looked down at himself and cringed. Gone was his traditional black on black. Dru had convinced him that he needed to look the part. Black slacks and a grey button up shirt replaced his usually wear, all capped of with a stripped black and grey silk tie that Dru had picked out.

But acting the part was what she had decided he had to do, and he was buggered if he ever thought he could deny her anything.

The dreams had started a month ago, something about pixies and granddaddies and the mouth of hell. So the pair of them packed up and moved to the one place on Earth that had at least two and very likely all three of those things. Sunnydale, California was as far removed from Prague as one could get and yet once they arrived and made their presence known it seemed like the town was built for them.

Granddaddy, or the Master of their vampire order welcomed them with open arms. Dru cooed and gushed over The Master, entertaining the old blighter for hours with her ramblings and visions. If he didn’t know better he would have thought that Drusilla was flirting.

Spike pushed the thought out of his mind. There was no way that Drusilla would cheat on him with that deformed monster. Not when here he was making a bleedin’ fool out of himself posing as a bloody human, during the day nonetheless, so that she could do god knows what.

The least she could do was explain to him why he was posing as a teacher for the snack sized treats that populated these halls. ‘Cause he was still in the dark about that one.

Spike walked into the auditorium. On the stage teenagers practiced their tricks and songs. There was a particularly biteable girl singing the most horribly mutilated song he’d ever heard. Made his vampire ears bleed.

He passed Principal Snyder on his way down the aisle. The two ‘educators’ nodded in greeting. Now Snyder was a man Spike could respect. He was evil. Yes, Spike conceded that Snyder was happily in love with his job of ruining the lives of so many students.

Spike continued down the aisle to where Mr. Giles sat. Mr. Giles, he had been informed, was in charge of this year’s talent show. A talent show that Spike was inexplicably drawn to.

It was curious. He should be laying low, not drawing attention to himself and yet here he was standing next to the aisle in which sat Mr. Giles and several of his favourite students, one of which was a Slayer, his vampire senses told him, which inevitably made Mr. Giles a watcher. As if the tweed wasn’t enough to give him away.

The thrill at being so close to such danger was intoxicating. He loved it.

Spike looked over the girl. She was blonde, short, green eyes and full of attitude. Buffy Summers. She was in his fourth period English class.

She was the fantasy girl of his mid morning wank.

It was wrong, he knew it. A vampire had no business wanking off to the mental image of fucking a Slayer. He never was one for the rules though.

“Mr. Rhodes,” greeted Mr. Giles, his attention not diverted from Miss Cordelia Chase’s horrible butchering of what someone must call music. “What brings you to this den of the..uh..talented?”

Spike smirked at Mr. Giles’ comment and leaned against the back of an auditorium chair. “Just observing the masses, and wondering just how the show was shaping up,” lied Spike, not a trace of deception in his voice.

Truth was that Dru had been remarkably specific about him participating in the talent show, then became all cryptic again with the pixies and talking about dollies.

“Well unless the school explodes in fiery death...which it could, I admit, this show is going to suck,” said Xander Harris stretching in his chair.

“Are you three participating?” asked Spike curious, his eyes landing on Buffy.

She cringed, causing him to smile. Why she couldn’t feel that he was a vamp, he couldn’t figure out, but he didn’t think much of it, just glad that it’d allowed him to get this close.

“They have been just informed of their participation,” muttered Mr. Giles.

“Which is completely unfair,” pouted his Slayer.

Spike’s attention was drawn to that pouty lip. The urge to reach over, grab her and suck that lip into his mouth was overwhelming. Luckily they were distracted by the end of Miss Chase’s song.

“Thank you Miss Chase,” called out Mr. Giles to the cheerleader on stage, who smiled and leisurely left the stage.

A girl with a tuba came out next.

“There must be some talent you three could come up with,” said Spike with a smirk.

“We are talentless!” pouted Miss Rosenberg. “Sure, I mean, I could hack into a computer network, but you can’t show that on stage...” trailed off Willow, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “And I really shouldn’t have said that in front of a teacher.”

“Who me?” asked Spike.

“Well Giles doesn’t count,” admitted Xander, ignoring the ‘hey!’ from the other man.

“What about you Miss Summers, what innate talent are you going to show to the students of Sunnydale?” questioned Spike with a wicked gleam in his eye.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “I could throw things, I’m good at that.”

Xander sat up in his chair and waved a finger. “That’s not a bad idea, you could throw knives or something and Willow can be your assistant who spins on a wheel. You’ll both be wearing sequined body suits of course, there could be feathers...” Xander trailed off, seemingly in his happy place.

“And just what would you do in this revolting scenario?” asked Giles, feigning interest in the tuba player on stage as Xander snapped back to reality.

“I’ll be the manager,” said the boy with a smile, earning a ‘pfft,’ from Buffy.

“Hey! Being the manager is a time honoured tradition. And really it’s me here, ok? Just what the fuzz would I do?” continued Xander.

“Recite poetry?” offered Spike.

The three students gawked at him a moment.

“Right, and this has turned into a world in which we are all Mini Gileses,” scoffed Xander.

“I’ll have you know that if I were to enter such an exhibition, I would not be reciting poetry!” defended Giles.

“Really?” asked Willow excited. “What would you do?”

“I’d play the guitar,” answered Giles staring at his papers in front of him before calling out to the tuba soloist who was leaving the stage. “Good, thank you, next!”

“What about you Mr. Rhodes?” asked Willow. Willow turned to look at Spike.

On stage a boy and a dummy took a seat on a barstool. There was something about that dummy that drew Spike’s attention away from the conversation.

“Mr. Rhodes?” prompted Willow again.

“Juggle I suppose,” said Spike absently.

“Ewww, dummy!” murmured Buffy.

“I think dummies are cute. You don't?” asked Willow.

“Uuuhhh. They give me the wig. Ever since I was little.”

“What happened?”

“I saw a dummy. It gave me the wig. There really wasn't a story there.”

Spike attention was clearly on the dummy; the resulting conversations of the students next to him could not keep his interest at all. There was some form of power coming off the thing. Spike’s whole attitude lit up at the fact that this small wooden doll was probably what Dru wanted, what she had been whining about for months.

The students in the auditorium started laughing at the ‘act’ that was being performed before them. Spike had the urge to shake his head in disbelief as they thought that the one sitting with his hand up the puppet’s back was the one in control. His eye focused on the dummy with intensity knowing just who was in control here.

Mr. Giles’ words brought him back to reality as the act came to a finish.

“There, you see? I'm sure you three can come up with something...equally exciting,” encouraged the Librarian.
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Spike walked into the cavern with a smile on his face. He had seen the doll and he was pretty sure that once he told Dru about it and got it for her he wouldn’t have to pretend to be a soddin’ English teacher anymore.

He found his sire sitting on the Master’s lap like a little girl.

“My Spike’s found the dolly!” she cooed, clapping her hands in delight. “But the sunshine blinds! Nasty sunshine and fire. Spike you mustn't be stung by the bees! They buzz! Tell them to stop! The tea was cold this morning.”

Spike tilted his head at her ramblings trying to process just what was going on in her head. It had been a century that he had spent with her but sometimes even he couldn’t decipher what she was talking about.

“Will you bring the dolly to me, pet?” she smiled, but not budging from the Master’s lap.

“Of course, Dru,” he answered.

“Then we can have a proper tea, with Miss Edith and the Pixies and the new dolly,” Dru prattled on to the Master, effectively ignoring him. With a swirl of duster, Spike turned and headed out of the cavern looking for a meal and something to get his mind off of the niggling suspicion that was flitting through his brain.

Nothing had been the same since they arrived here.

Spike found himself at the seediest bar in town, hoping to drink himself under the table, until he remembered that he had to go back to that infernal school the next day and pretend to be a teacher once again. He had dreams every night of ripping off the student’s heads and drinking from their stupid brainstems but he kept himself from carrying out his wish because it was important to Dru. Those dreams had only played a feature role when he first started at the school, who had taken one look at his rather impressive resume (all true, but the dates were all a hundred years earlier than stated) and hired him on the spot. It had been weeks since he had settled in. His dreams now were terrifying accounts of student reports and reading skills. And Buffy Summers.

Spike swallowed down another mouthful of whiskey and banged the shot glass down on the bar, frustrated that he constantly thought about her. The bloody Slayer! One he wasn’t allowed to kill ‘cause there was some stupid prophecy.

Of course, now he wanted to do other enjoyable things to her before he killed her.

Spike pushed back from the counter and turned on his bar stool only to have the door to Willy’s open up, revealing Buffy Summers in all her glory.

Spike cursed his bad luck and turned back to face the bar once more, hoping that she hadn’t glimpsed him. He motioned for Willy to pour him another shot, when she sat down beside him, her vanilla scented body only inches from his.

In the weeks that he had been teaching her English Literature, this had been the closest to her bubbly self he had allowed himself to be. His body tensed at the need to flee. She was the bloody Slayer after all; she probably had a stake just waiting to be shoved into his unbeating heart.

“Got anything to say for yourself?” came her clear distinct voice through the din.

Spike almost responded to her, before he realised that it was Willy to whom she was speaking. Willy handed him a new shot glass full of amber liquid before turning his attention to the Slayer.

“Don’t know what I would say, Slayer...” started Willy.

In a flash Buffy was up off the bar stool and pulling Willy further across the bar by the collar of his disgustingly horrid shirt.

“You could say you’d never do it again?” she said sweetly.

“I...I don’t know what you mean...” stammered the bar keep.

“Like you don’t know! Willy! I know you paid some guys to hold up the blood bank delivery truck! I know you have a new stash for all your vampire customers.”

Spike hid his smile at her false sweetness. She was playing with the horrible little rat man.

“Really Slayer! I’m just an honest business man, providing a service...”

“You are gonna make me hit you again aren’t you?” she questioned with false remorse. Buffy let out a sigh, as if it was a hardship. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it...” She cocked back her fist as the bar tender raised is hands over his face in defence. Silently she let her arm drop to her side and she resumed her previous seat on the stool, next to Spike. “Hey, while you are cowering, get me a diet coke?”

Rat man hurried to get her her drink and it appeared before her in record time.

One hand on her glass and one elbow resting lightly on the bar, Spike watched with fascination at this girl beside him who was clearly more interested in her coke than what was going on in the bar.

“Hey! You, the demony guy with the horns! That better not be what I think it is or I’m gonna be very unhappy wrecking my manicure while I slay your ass!” she called out into the din.

Or maybe not, thought Spike.

The demon in question grunted and went back to whatever it was he was doing and Spike kept his head down as she turned back on the stool and faced Willy again.

“So I’m asking myself, ‘self, what is Mr. Rhodes, your English teacher doing in Willy’s hole in the ground?’” came her voice bright and bubbly.

Spike spun his empty shot glass around on the bar before him before responding, not knowing if he should play guilty or indignant.

“Might ask you the same question, Miss Summers,” answered Spike finally letting his eyes reach hers. He expected to see her bright smile flashing back at him, but instead a look of worry passed over her face.

“You aren’t going to tell my mom are you?” she asked worried and biting her lip slightly.

Spike snorted in laughter at that, he hadn’t even met her mother. “Not plannin’ on it pet,” he continued, motioning for Willy to fill his shot glass again.

Buffy took a sip from her coke, her bubble gum pink lips sucking on the straw for a second before recovering her composure.

“The thing that gets me, though, is that you’re a teacher, with the rules and the homework and that snorefest you have us reading, and you’re here. Here. Willy’s. Why?”

“Its got its own charm, ya?”

Spike watched with fascination as she rolled her pretty green eyes.

“A dumpster could out charm this place.”

She smiled prettily, her eyes dancing as she ran her fingers up and down the side of the glass of Coke.

“You aren’t here drowning your sorrows because of a girl are you?” she asked curiously.

“Now, now, pet, that’s none of your business,” smiled Spike with a sparkle in his eye.

She was immediately defensive. “Well you’re the one out of place here. I mean, come on! This is Willy’s. You’d have to be undead to think this place has class...” She cut herself off suddenly as if she had said too much.

His eyes locked with hers as the entire bar sat silent. Even the two big guys that had been arguing at a corner booth had stopped their bickering.

Slowly her eyes began to move back and forth, as if she was computing new information. Spike moved his hands from the shot glass and plotted the easiest way to escape from such close proximity to her deadly fists.

“Why aren’t you trying to tell me that vampires don’t exist, except in literature or some way British thing to say?” she asked catching his eyes once more.

With a chuckle Spike stood up from the stool and leaned in to her ear. “The world is not what we believe it to be, Miss Summers. See you tomorrow.”

Without looking back at the Slayer, he exited the bar and headed into the night. He needed to feed and to do something about the reaction she had caused in his jeans. With the Slayer at Willy’s he could hope for a quick feed without being disturbed. It was really too bad that he couldn’t take care of both by dragging the Slayer into the nearest alley.

His mind’s eye painted a lovely tableau of how it would go too: pressing her up against the brick of the outside wall, pushing up her too short of a skirt and ripping the fabric of her panties away before sinking into her with his cock and fangs.

The thought of the action, taking her like that against the wall wasn’t doing anything for his tented jeans and the fact that the zipper was cutting painfully into his shaft, though.

He would see her again tomorrow, get the doll and bring it back to Dru before he finally shrugged of the disguise she made him play at. Then, oh then he would have him some fun.
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In anticipation that it was his last day at Sunnyhell High, Spike arrived in his darkened classroom with a smile on his face. Even the horrid little meat sacks couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

Another source of his delight was the girl sitting in the third row, four seats back. The Slayer. She kept giving him coy looks all through his class, most likely because of their tête à tête the night before. He had heard the rumours about the hallways rife with speculation and gossip. The students, the female students anyway, were all looking for a way to catch Mr. Rhodes’ eye. The Slayer had accomplished that easily, simply by not realising that he was a vamp.

It was a question that perplexed him more than he liked to admit. She should have been able to take one glance at him and known at once. This Slayer was defective. But oh so biteable.
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Spike was approached by Principal Troll man while walking down the hall towards the auditorium.

“Rhodes, come with me,” Snyder ordered.

With a shrug, Spike acquiesced following the little man as he spouted on about how he saw great things for him in the teaching profession and did he ever think about becoming a Principal?

“Giles!” barked Snyder as they approached the auditorium. “Talent Show?”

Spike watched the Watcher flinch as the prospect of actually entering the troll man’s presence.

“In rehearsals...” began the Librarian.

“Follow,” ordered the principal.

The three ‘teachers’ entered the school’s auditorium together, heading down towards the stage where so many of the students were rehearsing. Including that boy with the doll.

“Kids today need discipline. That's an unpopular word these days, 'discipline'. I know Principal Flutie would have said, 'Kids need understanding. Kids are human beings.' That's the kind of woolly-headed, liberal thinking that leads to being eaten,” ranted the principal.

Spike stifled his chuckle.

“I, I think perhaps it was a little more complex than, um...” stammered Giles.

“This place has quite a reputation. Suicide, missing persons, spontaneous cheerleader combustion... You can't put up with that. You've gotta keep an eye on the bad element,” continued on the troll man.

The three men reached the stage only to stop. Snyder had a point to make and he was going to do it in full view of the assembled students.

“Like those three,” Snyder noted.

Spike looked up to see the Slayer and her two friends practising a dramatic presentation. Spike caught Buffy’s eye, giving her a smile, not realising he was doing it until it was a done deal.

“Kids. I don't like them. From now on you're gonna see a very different Sunnydale High. Tight ship, clean, orderly, and
quiet,” continued Snyder.

With a roll of his eyes Spike watched the principal leave the auditorium.

“How that infernal man got to be an educator completely astounds my mind,” muttered Mr. Giles, looking at his clipboard and walking off with some talent show purpose, no doubt.

Spike had to agree, though Principal Snyder did remind him of one or two of the teachers he had had in his school days, over a hundred years ago. Flickering his gaze at the object of his attentions, professional and otherwise, Spike mounted the stairs on the stage, intent on finding that stupid dummy. He surveyed the assembled students to find that the one he was looking for was not there. Spike resisted the urge to growl out his frustrations, and suppressed the need to make the closest talentless pillock his next meal.

He stopped on his way back down the stairs to watch the slayer and her friends try and act, they were really terrible, but clearly having a good time with the practicing. It remained to be seen whether or not they’d make it to curtain time.
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Spike came out of the school’s boiler room, licking his lips from the delectable take out he had just eaten, and turned. It was much easier clean up if you staked your own fledges.

Spike found the dummy toting kid on the stage, with her.

“Uh, Morgan, did you notice anything weird going on around here yesterday?” asked the slayer, her blond hair shimmering in the stage lights.

Spike sat down in the auditorium seats waiting for Miss Summers to vacate the premises.

“Weird? What d'you mean?” asked dummy kid as he gathered his toy up and headed down the auditorium step.

“With Emily. Did she say anything to you, was she arguing with anyone?” persisted Buffy.

“No. She was dancing. Sid and I were talking,” explained dummy boy.

“Talking?”

“Rehearsing,” explained the boy.

“So, you didn't notice anything weird at...”

It didn’t take a scientist to realise that his boy was diseased. He could smell it, it was revolting. The boy held his head against the pain of whatever it was that was killing him. Ordinarily Spike would have found the pain amusing, but he didn’t cause this pain and so it was less fun.

“Morgan, are you okay?” asked the concerned girl.

“Look, sweetheart! He answered your question. Now leave him alone!” came the voice of the doll.

And that was why Dru wanted the bleedin’ thing. This was no ventriloquist act the boy was putting on. This doll was possessed or something. Could pose future problems getting the doll away from the boy though.

“Okay, Morgan, how 'bout talking to me yourself now?” demanded the annoyed voice of the Slayer.

“He said all he's gonna say,” responded the doll, meanly.

“It's okay, Sid. We're done.”

Spike watched intently as the boy put the dummy into its case.

“I'm sorry. Look, I didn't mean to make you mad,” apologized the slayer.

“No! I'm... It's him! He's... We have to go.” And with that the boy and his dummy fled the scene.

“Cute couple,” muttered the slayer, her eyes trailing on the retreating boy.

Spike caught her eye and smiled. He had no idea just why he hadn‘t followed the boy and the dummy as they left the auditorium but somehow, someway it was her fault.

Buffy returned his smile and sat down beside him in the uncomfortable seats.

“Did you hear about Emily?” she asked curious.

“The bint who snuffed it in the change rooms? Ya I heard. Nasty business that,” he observed.

Strangely she laughed.

“You know, you surprise the hell out of me, every time I see you. What the hell is a bint? Even Giles doesn't use that word.”

“I bet he used it a good many times in his day. The old codger’s got a few skeletons in his closet I’d wager.”

“Giles?” she squeaked. “Nah, he’s all with the books and the learning. He was never cool.”

“Right,” he noted disbelievingly.

“So what’s with you and the stalking?” she asked.

“I’m not bloody stalking you!” he protested far too quickly.

“You know most of my stalkers tend to not stick around when I’ve seen the whites of their eyes,” she purred.

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked softly.

She blushed prettily and looked down at her hands. “It sounded good in my head.”

There was a pause, silence filled the air between them.

“Can I ask you a question? What are you doing in this hellhole? I mean, you are hot and you seem like a pretty smart guy. Why Sunnydale, home of big death lurking around every corner?”

“You think I’m hot?”

Buffy blushed again. “So not the point of the question.”

“Let’s say that I was drawn here, and I’m not unhappy about what I’ve found,” he said giving her body a once over.

She gave an involuntary shiver. Slowly she regained her senses, finding herself still under his leering gaze.

“You do realise that you are a teacher right?” she asked, pulling away from the closeness they shared being seated side by side.

With a smirk, Spike rose from his seat. “That’s not the only thing that’s wrong about this pet,” he intoned, forcing his feet to walk away from her.
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Sure he could muscle the case out of Morgan’s hand and take off into the sewers with it, he reasoned, but something in him bade him pause. Maybe it was the consequences something like that would have on his future welcome to the school or maybe he didn’t want the embarrassment of running away.

The problem was that the boy never left the doll anywhere. Every time he saw the doll, it was on the boy’s soddin’ wrist.

And the bloody doll was starting to give him looks. Like it knew about him.

He was being put off by the bloody thing. Not one to say that a doll gave him the willies, which in truth this one did, even though he knew that it was a demon or possessed or controlled by something that he could wrap his hands around and tear its head off, Spike shrugged off the feeling of being creeped out and set off to stalk the puppet.

The halls were quiet in the after hours, students having long fled the scene. Spike’s senses told him that there were a few that hadn’t left yet. Morgan being one, his diseased smell leading Spike to where he was hiding. Buffy was there too, but he hadn’t time to flirt.

Using his vampire skills, Spike headed towards the auditorium. He had long decided that he’d seen enough of that room to last him his century and a bit in this world.

“No, I can't do it!” exclaimed the boys voice as he paced, the puppet sitting on the chair.

“It's the only way,” the dummy responded, making Spike‘s eyebrows raise in question from behind the stage curtains.

“I don't want...”

“She's the one.”

“But...”

“You saw what she did, how strong she is.”

“I know, but...”

“She's the last! Just this one more, and I'll be free,” explained the doll.

Spike refused to breathe, not keen on giving his position away. He knew instinctively that they were talking about the Slayer. And he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I won't,” declared Morgan.

“I will!” answered the puppet. “And I’ll do something about that snoopy teacher you have too.”

“Huh?”

Spike rolled his eyes and stepped out from the curtains.

“M...Mr. Rhodes!” stammered Morgan, backing away from the chair and the doll. “I swear I’m on my way home, just putting in a couple more minutes of rehearsal.”

“Didn’t look like rehearsal to me,” observed the vampire.

“I swear!” protested the boy.

“No need to lie about it, kid,” ordered the puppet. “This one’s been on our tail for a while now, haven’t you?” The puppet asked as he hopped down off the chair and started walking towards the fake teacher. “I know what you are. I know you don’t care about my mission, my reason for doing the things I do.”

“Got that right,” admitted Spike.

“But I also know that, Rhodes here has a secret, a big secret. Morgan! You can go!”

“No!” protested the kid. “Sid!”

Spike might have flashed him a bit of fang to get him on his way. Spike chuckled as the kid ‘eeped’ and ran from sight, before picking the puppet up by the neck. Bringing Sid up to eye level, Spike passed an appraising glance over the dummy he held in his hands.

“I think you should put me down,” mentioned Sid, a confidence in his voice that Spike wasn’t expecting.

“I think you should shut your yap before I present you to Drusilla in pieces.”

“Look down buddy,” ordered the dummy.

Spike looked down to see that Sid had one of his wooden fingers pointed at his heart. Instinctively, Spike dropped the doll, the inborn survival instinct kicking in before duty to Sire.

Sid hit the ground running. Within seconds he was gone. And the little wooden bugger didn’t have scent to track. A fleeting thought floated through Spike’s mind as he contemplated why the bloody doll was named Sid.

Cause Sid Vicious would probably be offended.

Spike sulked out of the auditorium, annoyed with himself, with Drusilla, with Sid, with the whole world. The hallways echoed with his footsteps as he headed for the basement, intent on going back to Willy’s to get completely pissed.

The plan would have succeeded too, except fate, disguised as a perky slayer with shampoo commercial hair and wearing a skirt far too short to be allowed in an educational institution walked into him. Literally.

He should have seen her, felt her, heard her muttering about ‘stupid Snyder.’ Truth was, he was much too annoyed with himself for coherent observation. And she was probably too involved with her internal ranting to notice either. He caught her arms before she could hit the ground and raised her up flush against his body.

Her body against his was doing things no slayer’s body should ever be doing to a vampire’s, yet he couldn’t let go, his blue eyes boring deep into her green ones. Her pink tongue peeked out of her bubble gum coloured lips, drawing his eyes to that part of her face and causing his cock to stir in his tight pants. She was so close she had to have felt it.

She didn’t pull away.

In fact, she didn’t move a muscle.

Then he smelt it. The most wonderful smell he could have fathomed, given the circumstances, her being a slayer and all. She was turned on, in a big way. She was creamin’ her little girl panties because of him.

Slayer was hot for teacher.

Spike felt his cock stir once more, the fact of her getting wet for him, while pressed up so close...it was a natural reaction right?

Slowly he forced his hands to let go of her upper arms, letting his drop to his sides, and desperately hoped that of their own free volition wouldn’t grab her ass. ‘Cause really? That’s what he wanted to do, in a long string of things he wanted to do. Somewhere in that string of things to do, between putting his hands on her ass and draining her dry, he was gonna fuck this slayer.

“Thanks,” she finally muttered, into the darkness of the hall, without taking a step back.

“Ya, well couldn’t have had you get all knocked around before...”

“The talent show. Right.”

Carefully, Buffy deliberately stepped out of his space, her eyes trained on the ground. “Home, going.”

“Probably got homework to do...”

Buffy smiled. “Probably? You know I do! What’s the deal with assigning us a whole page of ‘find the noun?’ Cruel fiend!”

Spike’s face lit up in a smile. “You don’t know how right you are pet,” he said as he walked off down the hall.
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“Are you gonna be in the talent show Mr. Rhodes?“ asked Harmony Kendall persistently the next day as Spike cut across the hallway, avoiding the sunlight patches to his classroom.

“Do you sing Mr. Rhodes?” inquired the even more persistent Cordelia Chase. “If you did, we could sing a duet!”

Spike gulped at the prospect. “Excuse me ladies,” he said, trying to get to his classroom and away from them. He shut the door on his pursuers and exhaled in relief. To be completely honest he wanted to drain them both for lunch. They were bleedin’ annoying.

He turned around to sit at his desk like the ponce he was acting like, never to actually admit that once upon a time this was him, to see Buffy Summers sitting at her desk.

“You know, I keep getting this weird feeling from you, like you know a lot more than what the rest of us know. Emily dying, the janitor finding dead bodies in the basement, Sid the wonder puppet that attacks me in my sleep. Are you a watcher?” she finally asked.

Spike didn’t catch the snort that bubbled forth from his lips in time. “I’m not a bleedin’ watcher, pet.”

Buffy got up out of her seat, a look of relief passing over her face as she walked towards him. “You have no idea how happy that makes, me. But you know what a Watcher is right? I‘m not completely out to lunch that you know, right? I mean, you hang out at Willy‘s.”

As if getting pissed at Willy’s qualified him for wisdom in any realm of knowledge. She stopped her approach mere inches from his body. His whole being was conflicted, he wanted to flee, she was the Slayer after all, he wanted to fight, he was the Slayer of Slayers for a damn good reason, and also he wanted to flip her over the desk and sink his already hardening cock into her virginal depths.

Seductively, Buffy traced a line with her fingernail down his black button up dress shirt. “Do you know what a Slayer is too?” she asked.

He would have stepped back from her at this little question, except that she had backed him into his desk. It was time for William Rhodes to take a definite back seat for a while.

“Oh I know what a Slayer is, little girl,” he purred, giving her a leer that could leave her in with little doubt of what he had on his mind.

She trailed her finger down as far as she intended, his waist, unacceptable he thought. Spike grabbed her hand and rather gently pushed it down further, breaking boundaries along the way.

With a shocked gasp she pulled her hand away, her method for getting information being found out she slinked back to her desk and sat on the hard would table, her too short skirt snaking up higher as she wiggled into a good position.

“I need to know what you know, Mr. Rhodes,” she cooed, trying to return to her sex kitten façade.

“And you think, seducing me, in a darkened classroom is the best way to getting what you want, kitten?” he asked, closing the distance between them.

“Sometimes Cordelia has good ideas,” she gave away, returning to her normal tone of voice and demeanour.

Not that he didn’t like the sex kitten thing. In fact, he loved it just a little too much, as evidenced by his trousers being just a bit on the uncomfortable side right about now.

“Just a tip, pet,” he purred into her ear, his lips almost touching her skin. “Cordelia Chase has been trying to get me in this position since I started here, and you, Slayer, are the only one who’s worth the trouble.”

Spike pulled his head back in time to avoid her sudden turn of her head at the realisation that he had called her Slayer.

“How...” she began, but quickly shook her head as if it didn’t matter. “What can you tell me about the demon loose in the school?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” said a suddenly gruff Spike, his arms crossed as he leaned against another student’s desk.

“Are you here hunting the demon?” she asked. “Are you a professional demon hunter type person?”

He guffawed at that statement. “No, pet,” he answered, his voice back to the regular tone he had lately taken with her. “I’m just looking out for my own interests.” Spike stood upright and walked towards his desk once more.

Suddenly and roughly, he was jerked back by her powerful little hands to face one very livid Slayer.

“Look, buster. I don’t know who you really are, or what your connection with this monster is, but I have to know how to kill it. Tell me or this is going to get way unpleasant.”

“Sorry, pet, don’t have the time,” he balked snidely, wrenching his hand away. He leaned over his desk, making sure she had a good view of his ass as he did so, and pulled an empty duffle bag out from under the wooden piece of furniture. “I have a puppet to find.”

“I know where he is,” she stated bluntly. “I’ll tell you where the cringe worthy pile of wood is, if...”

“If I tell you what I know? Don’t think I want to. Seems to me, that your demon problem, is exactly that...yours. Not mine. Yours. You are the Chosen One after all. Deal with it. And leave me the bloody hell out of it.” He turned on his heal and started towards the closed classroom door.

“Wait!” she called out after him.

Spike was through the door and a few steps down the hall when he heard her whisper: “I thought you liked me...”

With a smirk Spike travelled down the hall. He had a puppet to find.
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The wooden menace was a wily creature, Spike decided after loosing Sid in the back stage curtains and catwalk. And then there was the embarrassing almost slipping on the rotting corpse of Morgan Shay. Whatever it was that was gutting these kids, and Spike really wanted to thank it from the bottom of his undead and unbeating heart, had left its mess on the floor of the stage so just anyone could slip and fall on the diseased blood.

“Morgan?” came the slayer’s voice through the heavy curtains of the stage.

Spike stood absolutely still, his duffle bag poised to capture the illusive puppet.

“Demon's got himself a brain,” Spike heard her say next.

Spike’s attention focused on Sid, who was crawling around on the cat walk above him. The little bugger was going to do him in. But the good news was that Sid seemed intent on doing in the Slayer too. With a grin he watched as Sid let what looked like a heavy metal chandelier down from the rafters and land on the lithe little body of the Slayer.

But seeing her that way, all vulnerable and without her mouth making stupid remarks, started to make him feel, not quite, right about letting some puppet man put his hands all over her. That was his job. He was the Slayer of Slayers.

Spike stalked closer keeping a look out for that bloody puppet, who was scurrying like a rat in the dark recesses of back stage.

“Who's ever out there, I'm gonna hurt you! Badly! If you'll just gimme a minute...” came the Slayer’s slightly distressed voice.

Spike crept towards her pinned form, while she trying to get out from under the heavy metal. He would have started chuckling at her predicament, until the wooden sod, came up towards her with a knife. Bloody twit. Crouching down beside her, Spike lifted the metal pinning her down, enough for her to wiggle out from under.

Briefly giving him a thankful look, Buffy swung out and knocked the knife out of Sid’s hand, and grasped the little idiot’s wooden neck. Buffy stood up and pinned him to the wall, a look of sheer delight at her capture passing over her face. And for some reason, Spike liked it.

“You win. Now you can take your heart and your brain and move on,” said a defeated puppet.

“I'm sure they would have made great trophies for your case,” retorted Buffy.

“That woulda been justice.”

“Yeah, except for one thing: you lost, and now you'll never be human.”

“Yeah, well, neither will you.”

Spike had to laugh at that.

“You bloody thought she was the demon?“ Spike asked the puppet. “That’s rich! Slayer! He thinks it’s you that’s been stealing brains!“

Buffy turned with a look of anger at the puppet. “You thought it was me? I thought it was you!” She turned her head to look at her ‘teacher.’ “You knew it wasn’t him and you didn’t tell me?”

“I thought we had this discussion, Goldilocks,” he replied with a sneer.

“You make me so...grrr!” she proclaimed, wrenching the puppet off the wall and holding him out at arms length as she walked towards the auditorium entrance. “Are you coming?”

Spike looked at the Slayer in amazement. The only place he could think of she would be going right now, would be the library, home of the Watcher, her annoying friends and carefully hidden sharp pointy wooden objects.

“Please?” she looked over her shoulder with a pout.

And he was lost.
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Spike settled as far away from the others as he could, leaning against the book cage, his arms crossed as the watcher and the others stared wide eyed and slack jawed at the dummy. He was still awed by how easily he was accepted into the Slayer’s little circle. “He helped me,” she had said, and that’s all it took.

“This is what I do. I hunt demons. Yeah, you wouldn't know it to look at me. Let's just say there was me, there was a really mean demon, there was a curse, and the next thing I know I'm not me anymore. I'm sitting on some guy's knee, with his hand up my shirt,” explained Sid.

“And ever since then you've been a living dummy?” asked Miss Rosenberg.

“The kid here was right all along. I shoulda picked you to team up with. But I didn't because...”

“Because you thought I was the demon,” Buffy snarked.

“Who can blame me for thinking? Look at you! You're strong, athletic, limber... nubile...”

“Oy!” interjected Spike. No bloody puppet was gonna paw all over his Slayer.

Sid shook his head. “I'm back! In any case, now that this demon's got the heart and brain, he gets to keep the human form he's in for another seven years.”

The watcher’s tea kettle in the librarian’s office started to whistle. Mr. Giles got up to make himself some tea. “Rhodes? Tea?”

Spike shook his head no. He watched the Librarian go into his office contemplating just how easy it would be to drain the lot of them dry, scoop up the puppet and take it to Dru.

“I must say, it's a welcome change to have someone else explain all these things,” came the watcher’s voice, the man emerging from his office, teacup in hand.

“There were seven of these guys. I've killed six. If I can get the last one, the curse will be lifted and I'll be free. I'm sure it's someone in that stupid talent show,” continued the puppet.

“Yeah, but now that demon has what he wants. He'll be moving on,” interjected Buffy.

“So, once we know who's missing from the show...” trailed off the dummy.

“We'll know who our demon is!” said a very happy slayer.

“The show!” gasped Mr. Giles.

The whole lot of them turned their heads in his direction, wondering at the outburst.

“What?”

“It's gonna start! I'm supposed to be there!” exclaimed the Librarian.

Spike rolled his eyes. They were missing an important piece to this puzzle. As the Slayer started ordering her minions about, Spike stepped away from the cage and stalked towards the puppet. The wooden prat gave him a glare before he got too close.

Spike glared back at the dummy fiercely. Then, leaning in to the Slayer’s ear, as the children watched their watcher leave them for the talentless show, he whispered, “Slight problem with your plan luv, the demon isn’t going to be happy with the brain its got.”

Buffy turned her head slowly towards him. “Huh?”

“It’s got Morgan’s brain, ya?” Spike continued so that the whole of the group could hear him. “The bugger isn’t going to be happy with the boy’s brain. Diseased. Poor sod.”

“Morgan was sick?” asked Willow.

“How did you know that?” asked Mr. Harris, sceptically. “Is it some teacher thing? Does Giles know?”

Ordinarily Spike would have just snapped the whelp’s neck, but he didn’t want Buffy to get stake happy just yet. He wanted to make a clean getaway with the doll.

“Ya, that’s it,” explained Spike.

“So the demon is still there, at the show...” started Willow.

“...And shopping for a new brain,” finished Buffy.

“It’ll go after the smartest person there,” offered Sid.

“In other words, I'm safe!” interjected Mr. Harris

“Giles!” squeaked Willow.
_________________________________
Buffy and company, Willow holding Sid protectively, Spike following faithfully behind, rushed to back stage. Feeling like a right ponce too. At least he had managed to swing by his classroom and get his duster out from his closet.

The Librarian was stepping away from the ‘power circle.’

“No one's missing.”

“He’s still out here, somewhere,” noted Sid as he slid out of Willow’s arms, copping a feel as he did so, despite her protests.

“Uh, tell the others. Look, it's nearly curtain. I must get the show rolling,” continued Giles, clearly more intent on getting the show over with than the demon.

“Giles...It needs another brain. Morgan was sick. We think it’s after yours,” stated Buffy worried.

“I can take care of myself Buffy,” placated the Librarian.

“Right.” Buffy admitted, then looked around on the ground for Sid. “Sid?”

The bloody puppet had buggered off again. With a groan Spike took off into the chaos of the assembled talent show participants looking for Sid.

“Mr. Rhodes!” came the voice of Cordelia Chase, sliding up towards him, pressing her body closer to him than was necessary. “Did you rethink the duet idea?”

“No,” he stated bluntly. “I’m looking for Morgan’s dummy, you seen it?”

“Ewww, no, creepy little guy,” she said, making a disgusted look with her nose all scrunched up.

Spike disengaged her hands from his arm and slunk back into the crowd.

“Rhodes!”

Spike turned around to see Snyder tailing him. “Principal Snyder?”

“Helping out Mr. Giles?” asked the principal.

With a sneer, Spike looked up at the little troll man. “Not if I can help it.”

“Good to hear, Rhodes. I like you. Much more than Mr. Giles. The man is trouble. Trouble this school, this town can’t afford. Like that Summers’ girl and her friends he spends time with. It’s unnatural.”

Spike nodded as the man spouted on.
_________________________________
He finally got away from the dreaded man as the lights dimmed indicating that the show was about to start. Spike headed into the darkness looking for the doll. Spike followed the dummy up into the catwalk only to have to jump down after Sid, jumped down on the back of the demon trying to cut off Mr. Giles’ head.

Standing in the middle of the stage, watching the doll stab at the demon, the demon as it pressed Buffy into the wall. As the children were trying to get the Librarian out of the guillotine, Spike was suddenly aware of just how funny this looked. This could have been their talent instead of the tragedy they were planning.

“I found you!” declared Sid, his little arms flailing about, stabbing at the demon.

The little arms really weren’t doing any good to get the demon to die, or stop choking the Slayer. Spike walked up to the demon and pulled it forcefully away from the Slayer. Sid slid to the floor. Regaining her composure and oxygen levels, Buffy pulled back and decked the demon in the face, then kicked out into the demon’s gut, causing him to stagger back onto the bench attached to the guillotine, where the Watcher had been so recently. Conveniently the demon landed on the bench, its head landing in just the right spot for the blade to slice off its head.

“Let go!” shouted the Slayer to the boy.

There was a whoosh sound as the blade sailed down the track, taking the demon’s head cleanly off.

“Uh... I must say, all of you... Your t-timing is impeccable,” stammered the Librarian, staring at the now headless demon.

“And now for the big finish,” stated the puppet.

The little wooden man positioned himself over the demon's chest with his knife.

“What are you doing?” asked the Slayer a slight twinge of disgust on her face.

“It's not enough. He'll come back. You have to get the heart. Then all of this'll be over.”

“Then let’s get this over with, ya?“ moaned Spike impatiently.

With a nod, Sid pulled his arm back and plunged his knife into the demon’s chest. He pulled the knife out, only to fall lifeless on top of the demon’s body. Tenderly the Slayer picked up the dummy’s body and started to walk off the stage with him in her arms.

Suddenly the curtain opened, revealing the auditorium full of parents and students. They must have looked quite the comical tableau, Rosenberg holding a hatchet and Buffy a doll like a baby.

“What do we do?” asked Willow, extremely red in the face.

All four of the humans on the stage, stood still, deer in the head lights look to their faces.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, catching the eye of the kid operating the curtain and snarled at him.

The curtain started to close again. Spike stepped out in front of curtain, as it swished behind him. He pulled out the three railroad stakes that he had been carrying in his duster pockets. Without any lead in, he started to juggle. After a few moments, he took a bow. He waited for the audience to finish their nervous clapping.

“Now, while you are all pondering that tableau. I’d like to introduce Mr. Giles, our School Librarian, and Master of Ceremonies for this evening!”

The audience clapped again and Spike left the stage as Mr. Giles stepped out. Spike found Buffy still holding Sid like a baby in the wings.

“You juggle?” she asked.

“I’ve had a lot of time to do a whole lot of nothing during the course of my existence,” he countered. “I need the dummy.”

Buffy clutched Sid protectively. “Why?”

“’S why I came here. Need the doll, luv.”

“Buffy! We left our costumes in the Library!” panicked Willow standing right beside her.

Buffy nodded and took the hatchet from Willow’s hand. “I’ll go get them, k? I’ll be back soon, we are on near the end anyway.”

Spike followed the Slayer out into the hallways.

“So how long have you been juggling?” she asked.

“Since the 80’s,” he mumbled. It was the truth, the 1880s.

The walked silently to the Library where Buffy placed Sid in the duffle bag he had pulled out from his desk earlier in the day. Setting the now closed bag on the library research table, he stepped away from the table and frank the sight of her in with his blue eyes.

“You aren’t coming back to school tomorrow are you?” she asked sadly.

“Not planning on it,” he purred closing the distance between their two bodies.

“So that means you aren’t my teacher anymore, does it?” she answered, leaning in.

“Not at all,” he admitted.

“No more Mr. Rhodes?”

“Nope, just Spike.”

“Mmmm Spike...”

Tilting his head he captured her lips with his. He quickly found her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and her lithe body pressed up against him. His tongue begged entrance to her mouth, tracing her pink lips delicately. She parted her moist lips, slowly allowing him entrance, and the intensity of their kisses grew, as their tongues duelled.

Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up on to the table beside them, her short skirt climbing a little further up her thighs. He wedged himself between her slightly parted legs, his engorged member straining to break through the fabric confines of his trousers.

He snaked his hand down to her pert breasts, caressing them as he kissed her senseless. She moaned slightly into his mouth at his touch. Her blood thrummed underneath her soft skin just begging for him to bite her. And by god he was tempted. Disengaging from their oral duel, Spike began trailing open mouthed kisses down her neck and towards the v neck of her shirt and past to run his tongue over her erect nipples. Finally giving them a little bit of a nibble as he moved his hand stealthily between her legs, trailing a finger nail along the soft part of her inner thighs and towards the damp covered core.

Another gasp left her lips, as he began to finger her through her wet panties.

“Oh, god,” she moaned, bucking against him.

He smirked, before he removed his tongue from her breast and ripped her panties from her body, replacing his finger with his tongue. He sucked her clit into his mouth for a moment, enjoying all the coos and moans that were coming from her delicate lips, then he ran his tongue over her weeping slit and slowly thrust in.

She tasted divine, like power and sex and something sweeter. His thumb returning to her clit, he rubbed at it with his knuckle, enjoying her taste for a few more thrusts, his other hand unzipping himself.

With a pounce he disengaged his face from her wet pussy and pushed her back onto the table, his lips seeking hers out in violent congress. In an instant he was up on the table with her, parting her legs and positioning himself at her entrance. Her barely waited for a nod from her before thrusting in, ignoring the first hiss of pain as he breached her virginal barrier.

The table rocked under their movements, each thrusting against each other, grinding together to seek out completion. Digging his fingers into her hips, he bore into her knowing that she could take everything he gave. And gave.

“God! Spike!” she screamed as she orgasmed.

With another thrust, deep into her core, already milking his cock in release, he spent, and embedded his fangs into her neck. The juices of her pussy had nothing on the sweet elixir that was flowing in her veins. He pulled his fangs out quickly and licked the wound clean, before pulling himself out of her slick channel.

Casually he put himself away, righted his clothes and picked up the duffle bag with Sid in it, ignoring the look of shock that she was giving him.

“You’d better get those costumes and get back to the show pet,” he offered.

“You’re...you’re a vampire!” she whispered.

“That I am luv, and you’re still around to tell the tale. Might not be that way the next time.” Spike hitched the duffle over his shoulder and exited the school through the stacks hoping never to have to return to Sunnyhell High school ever again.
_________________________________________
fini