As they try to change their worlds,
Are immune to your consultations,
They are quite aware
Of what they are going through…”
Xander’s foray into depression, was caught short by the grand entrance of Principal Snyder, “Well, well, here we all are,” he rubbed his hands smarmily, “I want to congratulate you all for being on time.” Xander’s attention was caught by Snyder’s manner of dress, gone was his usual white shirt and tie, with the sleeves rolled up; this Saturday it would seem, merited a shiny 80’s style charcoal grey nylon suit, with a black shirt and no tie. Maybe the guy had a hot date later, Xander shuddered, ”Who on earth would want to go out with that rat fink.”
Then Xander amused himself by wondering if you dyed Snyder blue, would he look like Gonzo from the Muppets?!
Saturday, March 20th, 2004 – 7:06AM
Snyder looked round at his detention subjects, and almost smirked with glee, for there before him were almost all of his least favorite people. Some of the people there were obvious candidates for his ‘shit list’; the obnoxious British boy, with his slicked back hair, leather jacket, and attitude; and the weird boy who never spoke, with his dark hair gelled into tall spikes, and his offensively bright clothes. But the others… they were on there too, though perhaps not for the same reasons.
Buffy tentatively raised her hand, “Excuse me, Sir, I think there may have been a mistake… I know this is detention, but I don’t think I belong in here.” Snyder just raised his eyebrows at the interruption, and made a show of raising his hand and pulling back his cuff to see his watch. “It is now six minutes past seven,” Snyder sneered, as he watched Willow Rosenberg check her watch eagerly, “You have exactly eight hours and fifty-four minutes to think about why you are here.”
Spike was bored already, “Been there, done that, got the poncy t-shirt… heard it all before, change the fuckin’ tune, you bloody tosser!!” he thought to himself, as he tipped his chair back, spitting into the air, and catching it again in his mouth, smirking at the disgusted look on the face of the cheerleader type in front of him.
“Ponder the error of your ways,” continued Snyder. “You, may not talk.” Snyder pointed at Buffy Summers as he said this, then glared at Willow Rosenburg as she started to shift over into the seat next to her,.“You may not move from these seats.” Snyder smirked as he watched the timid redhead shift back into her previous position, an uncertain look on her face, then he walked up the center aisle, stopping in front of his least favorite student. “And YOU,” Snyder almost yelled the noun, as he pulled the chair from beneath the irritating teen’s feet, “will not sleep!!”
Snyder looked across at the silent punk, but he was still studiously ignoring the rest of the inhabitants of the room, so he continued, “Okay, people, we’re going to try something a little different today.” Snyder picked up a stack of paper and pencils, “We are going to write an essay, no less than a thousand words,” he almost laughed out loud, as he watched the silent one react to that pronouncement, looking directly into the scared eyes as he put pencil and paper in front of the boy. “Describing to me, who you think you are?”
As Snyder put a piece of paper and a pencil in front of him, Spike looked up at him with narrowed eyes, “Is this a test?” Snyder ignored him, and continued to hand out paper and pencils, “And when I say an essay, I mean an essay.” Spike put his feet up on the desk in front of him. “I do not mean a single word repeated a thousand times. Is that clear, Mr Giles?” Spike rolled his eyes, “Crystal,” he drawled, turning the ‘R’ into a growl, and the ‘S’ into a sibilant hiss.
“Good,” replied Snyder, “maybe you’ll all learn a little something about yourselves, maybe you’ll decide whether or not you care to return.” Willow raised her hand, and tentatively got to her feet, “Um, you know I can answer that right now, Sir, that would be a definite ‘No’. ‘No’ for me, because…” Willow’s voice trailed off, as she noticed the glare Snyder was giving her. “Sit down, Rosenberg.”
Spike had been smirking at the redhead’s little speech, but the smirk had frozen on his face, as he took in the almost shattered look on her face, as she whispered, “Thank you, Sir,” as she sat down. Willow could feel the gaze of both the scary blond who sat across from her, and the quiet brunette who sat behind; she sensed the blond was angry about something, and she hoped it wasn’t something she’d said; the brunette’s gaze was understanding, and somehow familiar, and Willow took comfort in it.
Snyder let his gaze rest on each of the students in turn as he gave his final warning, “My office is right across the hall, so any monkey business is ill advised.” Spike rolled his eyes at that. “Any questions?” When no one spoke, and the jock, and the cheerleader, who sat in the front row, both shook their heads, Snyder turned to leave. But before he’d got more than a few steps, a guttersnipe British accent, which he’d come to loathe, piped up behind him, “Yeah, I gotta question…” Snyder turned round to face the blond annoyance, “Does Danny DiVito know that you raid his wardrobe?”
Snyder gritted his teeth in annoyance, as he saw the quickly hidden amusement on every face in the room, he pointed at the blond, “I’ll give you the answer to that question, Mr Giles, in detention next Saturday… Don’t mess with the bull, young man, you’ll get the horns.” Then he spun on his heel, and stalked out of the room with as much impact as a man who stood 5’6” in his dress shoes could get, which unfortunately for Snyder wasn’t much.
Spike caught the eye of the little redhead, “That little git is a bloody tosser!!”
To Be Continued