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I am floored. Literally. I was having a really hellacious day. . . until I got an email notifying me that Baby Love had been nominated at Love's Last Glimpse for Best Angst, Best WIP, Best Fantasy and that I had been nominated for Best Author. I have no idea who nominated me, but you have my eternal thanks!!! This very nearly made my day. I'm posting this in honor of the nominations and I wasn't going to because I can barely move my arm today. Slainte, Nia.

[A/N: The updates on this are going to be a bit different from Revelations, since that’s my primary focus. I’m writing these only as I get the urge, although I pretty much have the whole story in my head, its just finding the time and the strength to put it to paper. But I am working on it. Oh. . . I’m sure all of you know where the title for this one came from. . . . and if you don’t, shame on you. I just altered the lyrics just a tiny bit. Disclaimers in full force and effect.]

Fifth. Dangerous

I don't think you know my name
And I think you'd leave me standin’ in the rain
You're a pretty little girl got a thing for me
But you'd cut me open and let me bleed

But I'll be looking at you with your long blond hair
Pretty little feet, sparkling everywhere
You look so good when you come my way
But I have to look down when you talk to me

'Cause you’re dangerous,
You’re Dangerous
You’re Dangerous
And you don't even know it


Her mom had let her skip two full days of school, but come Monday morning, she was adamant. Buffy was going back to school, like it or not.

The only high spot of the long weekend had been the strange flowers that had been delivered to her late Saturday afternoon. Well, the flowers weren’t strange, they were actually really pretty, beautiful even. The delivery was strange. No one had ever sent her flowers before and the note was only signed “me”.

Buffy had no idea who’d sent them. At first she was afraid they were from Riley, but then she dismissed that idea. Flowers weren’t his style at all. Nope. Not that he had a style.

She knew who she wanted them to be from, but she didn’t dare hope. He wouldn’t. He just thought of her as a kid. A troublesome kid. Couldn’t possibly have been him.


********************************************************************************


He didn’t know she was back in school until she walked into his classroom just before the start of sixth period. She was by herself, books clutched tight to her chest and the tension in her eyes wasn’t hard to see.

No one was settling down and he caught some of the gossip that was being not so carefully whispered and some of the nastier things got his back up.

“All right everyone sit down.” The bell rang and still there were pockets of students milling around just talking. One thing he asked of all his classes was immediate obedience. He didn’t much care for excessive rules, but when he spoke he expected compliance.

His aggravated roar filled the classroom, startling his senior honors class. “I said sit the bloody hell down. Now!”

People scrambled, tripping over themselves to find their seats.

Thirty-four pairs of eyes looked at him as he paced the front of his room. His anger was clear because his accent started slipping.

“Right then. This is my bloody classroom an’ when I tell you to sit an’ be quiet, you lot damn well better.”

He took a deep breath, not daring to look at Buffy, the only one of his students not starting at him, gaped mouth. “I will na’ tolerate any nasty shite in his room. You’re all near adults, behave like it.”

He turned a gimlet eye on Harmony Kendall, one of the worst offenders, pointing her out. “Don’ speak ill of others. This is not the place f’r it. If I hear such stuff in this room, its detention. An’ I hear it twice an’ you’ll get a failin’ grade.”

Taking a deep calming breath, he launched right into the discussion of William Blake’s poetry that he had planned for the day.


*********************************************************************************

She was beyond humiliated. The stares and the whispers and the looks of pity were more than she could handle. Buffy felt, for not the first time that day, tears begin to form in her eyes. This is so damn hard and so not fair. I’m not the first girl to ever get pregnant in high school. Why the hell does everyone have to look at me like I’m some sort of freak?

The only high points of the day had been finding Xander and Willow waiting outside every class they didn’t share, Xander especially protective of her, and the reaction all the nasty remarks had gotten from Mr. Stevenson. In the four years of high school, she’d never seen him yell like that. It had been downright scary.

He had paced the front of his classroom, every eye on him, wary of what he would do next. Mr. Stevenson wasn’t normally an unfair grader, always willing to give someone a second chance if they missed a deadline or needed help or well, anything. But this afternoon, he’d been really angry.

Xander told her this morning that Riley had been suspended for three days and he wouldn’t be back in school before Wednesday, which was good. They hadn’t talked or anything since the few moments in the courtyard and Buffy was okay with that. She didn’t really want to see or talk to him. In fact the only reason she hadn’t thrown the flowers out was because she was positive they weren’t from Riley.

Listening to Mr. Stevenson’s voice, Buffy tuned out what was going on around her, just focusing on the sounds, letting her mind wander. This was harder than she thought it was, going through the motions, pretending to be okay with everything. No one but Willow and Xander were willing to talk to her, not that she really minded about that, but it was the looks from kids she didn’t really know that were bothering her. Surprisingly, while Harmony and a couple of the other girls were being particularly nasty, Cordelia hadn’t been. She hadn’t gone out of her way to talk to her, but she hadn’t made any nasty comments or given her funny looks or anything. Instead, the head cheerleader had been very quiet, only smiling at Buffy giving her silent support.

Before she knew it, her eyes had drifted closed, her ears tuned only to the sounds of an English accent echoing through her.


**********************************************************************************

Will stole a glance down as he paced through the room, his eyes focusing on Buffy Summers. Asleep again. Fighting a smile, he carried on with the lecture, ignoring his desire to run his hand over her hair and let her sleep against his chest. Focus Will.

Once again, he let her sleep, knowing full well he’d never allow anyone else to get away with that in his classroom. Special circumstances deserved concessions, and Buffy certainly had special needs, at least at the moment. The fact that he wanted to scoop her up and cuddle next to her had no bearing on that. Mentally, Will scoffed at himself. He knew damned well why he was cutting her loads of slack, why he’d completely lost his temper at the beginning of the class. He wasn’t going to lie to himself. Best acknowledge the attraction and fight it that way. No sense hiding and pretending its not there.

Because the attraction was there.

Before he knew it, the bell rang for the end of class and he watched as they scrambled from the room, none of them daring to whisper as they filed past him. Buffy was still at her desk, her chin resting on her hand, elbow on the desk. Crouching down to face her, Will brushed the back of his hand down her cheek, his eyes traveling over her features. Slowly drawing his hand away, he berated himself. This is not how you fight this, mate. No touching. Remember that you wanker.

Yet the little voice in his head, the one that had been singing in his ear for days now, was warbling a different tune. Yeah, but touching is what you want to do. Want to take this little girl and hold her tight. Once again his hand was touching her, his fingers tangling in her gold hair, cupping her shoulder. To his own ears his voice sounded husky and he couldn’t for the life of him stop it. “Buffy, c’mon its time to wake up.”

“Mmmmm.” Was the only answer he got, her mouth opening a tiny bit, soft breaths wafting across the distance separating their faces.

“Buffy. Class is over. You need to wake up.” He watched her slowly swim toward wakefulness, fighting every step of the way.

“Don’t wanna. Hate waking up.” Her voice was little girl soft, petulance lacing the words, everything about her sending shockwaves through his system.

“C’mon sweetheart. You need to wake up.” Oh great you fucking git. Call the girl sweetheart. Not the brightest thing you’ve ever done.

With that she opened her beautiful sleepy green eyes and he forgot what he was thinking. Oh god. Would you look at that. She’s bloody gorgeous.

His hand tightened on her shoulder and Buffy reached out to brush some chalk dust off his dark blue shirt. Without thinking she leaned toward him, dropping her head down on his shoulder. Her muffled voice sounded softly in the air, not disturbing the little spell they found themselves a part of, “hey. Can I just stay here for a minute?”

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find his voice. His hand automatically slid along her back, holding her close and they stayed like that for a few minutes.

It was Buffy who finally moved, shifting away from him, completely embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. . . “

A warm finger brushed across her lips, silencing her. “Its okay. Just,” Clearing his throat, he said, “let’s try and not let this happen again, okay?”

“Kay.” Gathering her books, she refused to look at him, but she whispered softy, “I. . . thanks for what you’ve been doing for me. You know, the other day and, this. Thanks.”

She fled from the room before he could form words that wouldn’t take them deeper into trouble.



Okay, so I know how some of you are feeling about this. . . but c'mon people, please let me know. It really helps.





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