Unexpected

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine The front row of the lecture hall was filled with girls. They were decked out in low cut sweaters, silky dresses and tight jeans. Faces perfectly made up, the scent of their perfumes overpowered the room. They gazed straight ahead, eyes glazed, checks flushed. On the desk in front of them sat Spike, legs splayed wide open. His left hand held open a large literature textbook. He gestured wildly with his other hand as he read. “If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.” He stopped and peered over the book. Glancing over, he checked the seating chart. “Miss- Brooks, can you define calumny?” A purple haired girl decked out in black stood up in the middle section, smoothing her skirt. Nervously, she wrung her hands. “Um- calumny is defined-“ her voice cracked as she continued, “defined as the act of slander. Um, saying disparaging things about another’s reputation.” He grinned at her broadly. “Spot on. Exactly. So what Hamlet is threatening here, is that even if Ophelia plays the virgin for her hypothetical husband, she will be revealed as the opposite. What would Hamlet’s motivation be for saying this?” He looked up and scanned the room, seeing only downcast eyes. “Sexual jealousy. “ He stopped and pointed his finger in the air. “It’s all about sex!” Spike declared passionately. “The whole gist of this dialogue. The passion between these two. The way they interact. Can’t you feel the undercurrent of thwarted desire in their exchange?” The underclassmen nodded in unison, murmuring their assent. “Ophelia, the bint, has broke it off with Hamlet. He’s had her, has known her carnally, or he wouldn’t have any ammunition against her. He tells her that he loved her, than turns around and denies that he ever did. But then he says-“ He looked down and found the passage he was looking for. “Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them.“ Spike put the book down on the table and crossed his arms. “How do you turn a man into a monster?” he asked the class. A petite blond girl in the first row raised her hand. “Hurt him?” “Right!” Spike exclaimed. “She hurt him! Why does he care if she marries another man? Why would he care if she is chaste or not? Because she broke his heart.” He thumped his fist down on the desk, shaking it. “That’s how you make a monster from a man. Take away meaning, take away feelings, take away hope. Ophelia has denied the man, and brought forth the monster.” Spike began to pace back and forth. Every woman in the room, and a few of the men, turned their head, following his form as he strode. “Now, as we discussed last week, much controversy has taken place over the centuries in terms of the relationship between Ophelia and Hamlet. Many critics have argued that the relationship was a platonic one, while others have voiced the opposite. Next week we’ll screen selections from Olivier’s film, which supports a platonic relationship, and Branagh’s, which graphically supports a sexual one. I’ll let you form your own opinions on the subject, but I believe you all know mine.” He chuckled, his face lighting up with humor. “I’ve never been one for the subtle approach.” Spike glanced down at his watch. “That’s all, kiddies. See you next week. Same bat time, same bat channel.” The students filed out as Spike gathered his books and papers and placed them into his black briefcase. He grabbed his duster from the chair and moved to switch out the light. “Professor?” said a soft voice. Spike turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway. “Hey there, love.” He kissed his fiancee. “What are you doing in this neck of the woods?” She held up a stake and jabbed it in the air. “The usual.” They left the building and walked across the quiet quad of UC Sunnydale. “How was your lecture?” she asked. Spike glanced at Buffy and gave her a sigh. “Well, half the time I feel like they’re really getting what I have to say. That I’m really turning them on to the Bard, you know? The rest of the time, I’m not even sure they’re hearing me.” Buffy smiled at him and held his hand. “I saw some of those girls as they were leaving. All dolled up for a nine o’clock class. They may not be hearing you, but they’re definitely seeing you.” Spike looked irritated and dropped her hand. “Oh well, that makes it all right then. Doesn’t matter if they process a single word that I’m saying. They’re getting their parent’s money worth undressing me with their eyes,” he said, his voice seething with irritation. Buffy opened her mouth and promptly shut it again as he started pacing and waving his briefcase. “I have something valuable to say. I have some wisdom to impart. I’m trying to make a bloody difference here, Buffy!” She slipped her hand inside his duster and held him, patting his back until he settled down a bit.He kissed her on the forehead and took her hand in his again. “Sorry, love. Just feeling a bit sensitive. This teaching gig is really important me, and not just for the money. I have to prove myself.” They reached the DeSoto and Spike opened the door for Buffy. She opened the glove compartment and pulled out a big of Twizzlers. He grabbed one and held it in his hand like a cigarette while he drove. “The Dean came by to talk to me. He says that they’re considering giving me two more sections next semester. One for English Literature and another for Perspectives in Shakespeare , same as now. It’s be more money and more responsibility, and I could work from home.” “How can you work from home and teach?” asked Buffy curiously. “Well, they’re distance learning classes, which means that students watch my lectures on television and then send me assignments with e-mail. Quite handy for my whole avoiding the campus during sunlight thing.” Spike pulled up to a stop sign. He turned the corner and a truck barrelled into the side of the Desoto. The force of the crash slammed the car up on the curb and into a telephone pole. Steel buckled and glass shattered with the force of the impact. Steam rose from underneath the hood. The silence after the roar of the accident was broken by the sound of the truck peeling off and racing away. Minutes later, Spike lifted his head from the steering wheel, disoriented. He turned to Buffy. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?” She was turned away from him, her head lolled against the cracked glass of the window. A tap sounded on Spike’s window. ‘’You’re going to be okay,” said a policeman, shining his flashlight inside the car. “An ambulance is on the way.”