By Adrian Tullberg.
Buffy sat in the lecture hall, Willow beside her, Xander and Anya in front of them. The milling crowds of students filing into the lecture on psychology ebbed and flowed around the (unusually early) Scooby Gang.
"Okay guys, not that I don't mind your company, but why are you all here?"
"Well, I thought, that, it would be good to find out what Buffy is learning, see, and try and do some bonding..."
Xander waved a hand in front of the redhead, who recognised the 'rambling' cue and shut up. "Well, Anya wanted to see your lecture, and I felt that some parts of my education were lacking..." he trailed off; a man who obviously didn't want to offend his only source of what could only be described as 'poontang'.
Anya shrugged, getting out a pen and notepad. "Well, I came to find out what kind of threat we're going to be facing soon."
The gang's heads turned as one. "What do ya mean?"
Anya gave the humans a puzzled look. "You must have noticed - every time Buffy attends a lecture here, the topic always relates to something or someone that we're going to have to deal with."
Now the focus of attention was on Buffy, as she perused the information. "Well, the Professor was talking about non-verbal communication and body language..."
"...and then the entire town was cursed not to speak." Stated Xander, automatically siding with his girl.
"Okay ... maybe that was coincidence ... "
Willow shook her head. "Oh, there was that cursed beer? You told me before that you had to attend a lecture on the primitive side of the human personality..."
Xander shrugged. "It's probably just a hellmouth thing ... remember we were talking about Giles' childhood - and the next day that demon he raised as a teenager came for him?"
Buffy unconsciously reached behind her and rubbed the ever-present reminder of that little adventure. "Perhaps we should stop before this becomes a clip show for a sitcom."
"Perhaps we should just go. Nothing seems to happen if we're not around to catch these descriptions of what's going to kill us." Muttered Xander.
"Xander, I've got grades to maintain."
"Buffy, either you miss one lecture, and get a copy of the notes, and take it easy for a few days, or catch the lecture, and get attacked by the spirit of the Zebra Warrior Princess tomorrow."
Buffy took three seconds to think it over before collecting her books, the gang following her lead. Professor Walsh had already moved to the rostrum and started reading her notes.
The gang stopped their movements and looked at the Professor.
"The most mind-blowingly intense sexual experience of your lives, regardless of experience or age. How much of that is in your minds though? We're going to look at how mental stimulus affects..."
The gang were still frozen as the Professor went on. Buffy was the first to speak.
"I don't know ... I know Giles wouldn't like it if I blew a lecture..."
Willow whispered a reply. "You don't want to see him angry."
Xander affirmed. "She's right. And when have we listened to any of my ideas anyway?"
This finished the argument, as the four settled into their seats, rapt.
Xander looked over at Anya, wondering if this might be the time to show her the Jenna Jameson collection he had inherited (read; stolen) from his Uncle Henry. It couldn't hurt to ask.
Anya kept on glancing at Willow, wondering how to 'tactfully' (whatever the hell that meant) ask her to participate in something she saw in a series of videos Xander hid in his sock drawer. The ex-demon had accidentally discovered (read: finally found the something she suspected her boyfriend of hiding while ransacking the apartment) and saw that some of the activities involved two females or more. The girls on the videos seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Anya was the sort of girl who would try anything once. She suspected that Xander wouldn't voice any objections. It couldn't hurt to ask.
While fidgeting in her seat, Willow wondered how to approach a morose, bleached blonde on-the-rebound rapidly regenerating (high recovery time) tireless vampire.
Buffy wondered how to broach it to Riley - then squashed the thought like a bug.
A wicked smile crossed her face as she contemplated the fact that Olivia was out of town, meaning there was a lonely forty-something experienced (not too bad looking either) man who never quite got the hang of saying no to his Slayer.
As the lecture progressed, Buffy wondered how accurate James Bond films were.
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