Title: Blue Eyed Devil Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me Feedback: Yes, please!! Rating: Will vary from chapter to chapter, all the way to NC-17 Summary: Spike Devlin is the lead singer of the band 'Blue Eyed Devil' Buffy Summers is a local preschool teacher. They meet, and the sparks fly... Chapter Seven..... Buffy could feel his eyes on her in a way that was almost palpable. The lovely blue of his iris seemed to have deepened, and they snapped with pent up energy. He made her so nervous that she actually had to take a step back. "So," Willow spoke up. "You don't have any children?" Spike Devlin shook his head, his eyes still pinned on Buffy. "None of my own," he replied. "I have a niece and nephew," **In England** he added silently, mentally crossing his fingers. "My sister's kids." "Oh...and you're checking out the available preschools for them?" "What?" He pulled his gaze away from Buffy and addressed himself to Willow. "Oh...yeah. Yeah, they're...about the right age and....so on." "I see." Willow glanced at her watch. "Well, it's almost time for the children to go in and have their quiet time. If you'd like to come into the office, I'd be happy to show you how we operate here at Willow Tree." Buffy sighed with relief. An escape opportunity presenting itself at exactly the right moment. Her out-of-whack stars must be moving back into alignment. "Excuse me," she murmured, then walked out into the play yard and clapped her hands. The children knew the drill, and they left what they were doing to form a slightly disorderly line. Buffy waited until all her ducklings were in a row, then marched them inside. The children followed along, going straight to their cubbyholes and pulling out their rest mats and stuffed animals. She read to them for fifteen minutes, turned off the overhead light, then sat down at her desk to begin cutting pieces of colored construction paper into different shapes and sizes for their afternoon art project, and NOT think about Spike Devlin. ********************************************** Spike was having a far more difficult time not thinking about Miss Buffy. He had willingly followed Willow into her office, and taken a look at her curriculum and the goals she set for the children attending her school. During a lull in the conversation, he was struck by a sudden inspiration. "You know," he said sincerely. "All this looks just great, and I'll definitely clue my little sister in...but I was just thinking that maybe I could visit one of the classrooms. Watch how things work. That be okay, luv?" This was a common and reasonable request, so Willow didn't find it strange. "The children are having their quiet time right now," she informed him. "But you're more than welcome to sit in on the afternoon session." "Fabulous," Devlin murmured, trying hard not to look too eager. But Willow just smiled and pulled out her attendance sheets. "Everyone has a full class today," she said, scanning the list. "Since you already know Buffy...maybe you should start there." Looking up, she closed her ledger and put it away. "I assume you've told her what you want?" He nodded. "Oh, yes," he said firmly. "She knows EXACTLY what I want." "Great," Willow said, standing up. "I'll show you where her class is." **************************************************** Buffy was beginning to think that someone had it in for her in a major way. As if she didn't have enough on her mind, the children were continuing to act up. Kyle needed to go the bathroom. Jason needed a drink of water. Keiko needed to get her stuffed 'sleep buddy' out of her cubby. Andrew just enjoyed making noise. Nina had sand in her shoes. By the time she had attended to each one, Jason needed to go to the bathroom, Kyle was thirsty, and she was back at square one. Even when she finally had them down on their mats, they couldn't seem to be still and rest. They giggled, they whispered, they kicked their legs, they hummed tunelessly, they flopped around like a school of beached goldfish. Then, when she was already on her last nerve, it got worse. **************************************************** "That's enough!" Willow stood in the doorway and clapped her hands sharply, twice. "Now," she added, when all of the children were lying as stiffly and silently as planks of wood, "we have a guest today." Buffy, who had her back to the door, clapped one hand over her eyes. She knew, without even having to look, exactly who the mystery guest would turn out to be. "This is Mr. Devlin," Willow said. "He's here to see how we do things at Willow Tree, and I KNOW that you want to show him what good boys and girls you all are. Do you think that's what you were doing a moment ago?" Twelve heads wobbled from side to side. "Then I expect you all to quiet down," she said firmly. "Buffy...?" Heaving a sigh that came all the way from the soles of her shoes, Buffy turned around and saw Willow wave her over. She smiled weakly, her suspicions confirmed. Standing beside Willow, with a smirk on his face that she could have cheerfully slapped right off, was Spike Devlin. **Help me, someone. Anyone?** Buffy approached the pair at the door, pushing her hands into the side pockets of her denim skirt. "Willow...I'm having a hard time settling them down," she murmured. "Maybe this isn't a good idea...today. Why don't you try Carolyn's class." Her friend stared at her as though she'd lost every last one of her marbles. She honestly couldn't believe that Buffy was turning down a visit from Spike Devlin. But, before she could say anything in reply, he cut her off. "I'd actually rather observe YOU, Miss Buffy. Watch how you...handle yourself," he double entendred in silken tones. "When the children aren't minding their P's and Q's, I mean." Trapped. Trapped like a caged ferret. ************************************************* The instant that the door closed behind Willow, Buffy dropped her smile and returned to her desk without speaking one word to her unwanted guest. As calmly as she could, she picked up her scissors and continued the task of cutting out shapes of con- struction paper. Devlin strolled leisurely around the room, pausing to study different displays of the children's work tacked to the walls, slowly working his way towards her desk. Buffy ignored him, concentrating on cutting the paper and not herself. In the state of mind she was in, she had no doubt whatsoever that she would slice a finger off. "What are you doing?" he asked, perching on the side of her desk. She stopped cutting and looked up at him. "Baking a cake," she replied sarcastically, with a dead-pan ex- pression. The children snickered, and she could have kicked herself. "Quiet!" Devlin just smiled. "Need any help?" he whispered. "No, thank you." "You sure?" "Completely." He was silent for a few seconds. "I don't mind helping." "No, thank you," she said doggedly. "My triangles are a bit lopsided, but my circles are works of art. Just ask my mum." Another wave of giggles swept through the room. Buffy flung her head up and smacked her palm on the desk. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Looking up at Spike, she scowled. "I'm sorry...but if you can't refrain from disrupting my class, then...." "ME?" he asked, pointing at himself. "YOU'RE the one yelling at them." She stared at him, her lips slightly parted. He was absolutely right. HE had been whispering. SHE was the one with the volume control problem. The children's eyes bounced back and forth between the two adults, like tiny spectators at a really intense ping-pong tournament. It wasn't long before they began fidgeting and whispering again. ********************************************* Spike could see that the imminent loss of control over her class was agitating Buffy. Since he didn't want to be the cause of this problem, which would certainly not endear him to her, he decided to take some action. Leaning over, he spoke quietly to her. "I'll be right back, luv." Watching him walk out the door, Buffy was momentarily tempted to lock it. His car, the black Mustang she'd seen the other day, was parked at the curb. He unlocked the trunk and reached inside, bringing out a ..... "Oh, no," she said beneath her breath. This was the last thing on earth that she needed at that particular moment. Jumping to her feet, she intercepted him as he came through the door. "No. You can't do that in here," she said curtly. "I absolutely forbid you to...zip that back up! I mean it...do NOT take that out in my classroom." "Calm down," he said quietly. "I'm going to help." "How?" she demanded. "By damaging their hearing?" Spike opened the inner lining of its case and removed a guitar. "Do you see any electrical outlets on this instrument?" he asked. "This, my lovely, is an acoustic guitar. It has a red cedar top and rosewood back and sides, mother of pearl inlay on the headstock, and a rosewood fret board." He looped the strap around his neck. "My first guitar," he informed her. "I take it everywhere, but I rarely play it except when I'm alone...because it's very special to me." Buffy was quite unable to say anything. "Today," he added, running his fingers lightly up and down the neck of the instrument. "I want to play it...for you. And for the little ones." He smiled at her, a genuine and open smile, with no hidden meanings. "That all right with you, lovely?" After a moment, she returned his smile. "Yes," she said softly. "It's all right with me." Actually...it was so VERY all right with her...that it scared her. Just a little...... **************************************************** Spike Devlin spent the next fifteen minutes of his life enchanting twelve children...and their teacher. Sitting on the edge of Buffy's desk, he moved his fingers over the strings of his guitar, drawing out lovely melodies designed to calm the wildest heart. Then he left the desk and began to wander through the room. It made Buffy smile, remembering how he prowled the stage at Union Jack's. It must be a habit so deeply ingrained that he did it without even thinking about it. "Hush a bye, hush a bye Go to sleepy little baby When you wake, you shall have All all the pretty little horses," The children never took their eyes off him, but they remained as quiet as it was humanly possible for them to be. "Blacks and bays Dapples and grays All the pretty little horses." His voice was every bit as beautifully tuned an instrument as the guitar itself. He kept his tone low and soft. "Hush a bye, don't you cry Go to sleepy little baby When you wake, you shall have sweet cake And all the pretty little horses. A black and bay, a brown and gray All the pretty little horses All the black ones, and all the white ones All the calm ones, and all the wild ones All the pretty little horses. All the pretty little horses." He stopped singing, but continued to play softly. Five minutes later, every child in the room was sound asleep. Then he turned and smiled at her, and Buffy knew that she was in danger of completely losing her heart if she wasn't careful. Problem was, she wasn't sure she wanted to be careful anymore. TBC....