“Maybe ‘s one of those plastic rings they put around the tops ‘f milk cartons?” Spike suggested hesitantly, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

“But it’s white,” Tara pointed. “Aren’t the milk rings usually blue or yellow?”

“Depends on the brand,” Willow pointed out. “But they usually have that plastic ribbing on them…”

“There’s the ribbin’ right there,” Spike cautiously pointed at the object in question.

Tara shook her head. “I still say it’s an onion,” she insisted.

“Try stabbing it with a fork,” Elizabeth suggested helpfully. “Maybe it’ll help identify…that.”

The group of college students continued to contemplate the mystery item on Xander’s plate for another minute before Xander finally shrugged, speared the unknown substance with his fork, and ate it.

“How does it taste?” Willow asked anxiously.

“Bland. Tasteless. Like everything else on my plate,” Xander responded unhelpfully.

Four sets of shoulders slumped. “Now we can’t even obtain more empirical data to identify it,” Willow complained.

“Identify the mystery items on your own tray,” Xander retorted. “I’m trying to eat.”

Willow sighed at gestured to a yellow thing. “Whattaya think?” she asked Tara. “Squash?”

Spike chuckled as the seemingly endless game continued before eyeing what could have been a mushroom on his own plate carefully and finally daring to eat it. “Why does the food always get ten-times worse in the winter?” he wondered.

“Because the entire universe is conspiring against us to make this as miserable an experience as possible,” Elizabeth informed him cheerfully, giving him a quick pat on the knee.

“There’s my li’l optimist,” he teased lightly, pushing aside the ‘stir-fry’ in disgust. “’m off to find somethin’ actually edible,” he announced, making a brief departure from the table.

“So, Xander,” Willow turned to the unusually silent member of their party, “how’s Anya doing?”

Xander sighed. “I finally convinced her to go to Student Health today. Had to borrow Oz’s van to get her there.”

“Are we thinking mono?” Tara asked sympathetically.

“She’s been pretty much dead for a week now,” Xander agreed. “Of course, there’s lots of other possibilities…”

“If it’s mono, they can get her on antibiotics fast,” Willow assured him. “It still might take a while, but, hey, could be worse, right?”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Elizabeth said in a kind voice, feeling her friend’s distress.

“She’s so gonna freak when she realizes how many classes she’s missed.” Xander shook his head. “I don’t envy her having to make all that up…”

“She can take incompletes and finish her requirements this summer,” Willow assured him. “Professors are cool about that sort of thing. Especially if you’re really sick.”

“Still, that’s rough,” Elizabeth sighed, swirling the yogurt in her bowl around absentmindedly.

“What’s rough?” Cordy’s voice broke into the conversation as she sat down on the table, tray in hand.

“Anya might have mono,” Xander provided.

“That is rough,” Cordy agreed with a frown. “Sorry to hear that. Especially since it makes my own pain trivial.”

“Would that be the pain of stealin’ my seat?” Spike commented, scowling at where Cordy had intentionally pushed his tray to the side. Not that he minded being cramped up closer to Elizabeth, mind you. It was just the principle of the thing.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “No, that would be the pain of my latest theater project. C’mon,” she cast dangerous eyes across the table, “who wants to help me?”

Spike nervously sat in the seat between her and Elizabeth and gulped slightly. “What would we ‘afta do?” he asked warily.

“William, William, William,” Cordelia patted his hand in a loving manner, “I just know you want to volunteer to help perform my skit in front of the class…”

“Luv?” he turned promptly to Elizabeth. “Mind if we switch seats so Cordy can’t reach my parts when I tell ‘er ‘no’?”

Cordelia sulked. “You are such a prude,” she sighed.

“Oi now!” Spike defended himself. “’ll do anythin’ you want…just not in front ‘f an audience…”

“Where’s Oz?” Cordy turned towards more hopeful avenues. “He usually caves in.” She turned to Xander. “Unless you’re willing to…?” She batted her eyelashes at him a couple of times just for good measure.

“Uh, what would I be doing?” Xander was doing a remarkably accurate imitation of Spike’s ‘deer caught in headlights’ look from earlier.

“It’s just an ad-lib conversation thing,” Cordelia assured him, setting her sights immediately on the easier prey.

“Whoa! ‘Ad-lib’?” Xander repeated in horror.

“I’d be doing most of the ad-libbing,” Cordy insisted. “You just have to play along. It’ll be tons of fun.”

“Um…you know I’ve never done anything like this before, right?” Xander felt obliged to point out.

Cordy waved one hand in the air dismissively. “It’s not like anyone else has, either. It’s just an exercise in script adaptation – something I need to work on if I ever want to be a director. Please?” She batted the long, thick eyelashes once more.

Xander looked around for help but found his friends too busy fleeing the potential acting part. “Yeah, why not?” he finally agreed reluctantly. “After all, I’ll have a lot of free-time while Anya’s out…”

“Wonderful!” Cordelia exclaimed in delight. “We can start practicing this weekend. Are you free Saturday afternoon?”

“Uh, sure.” Xander shifted in his seat uncomfortably when he realized what he’d agreed to.

Spike chuckled. “I pity you, mate,” he said in obvious delight that it hadn’t been him this time around.

“Don’t make me hurt you.” Xander narrowed his eyes in Spike’s direction and brandished another onion-plastic-like item on his fork in the other’s man direction. “I have mystery, radioactive dining hall food in my arsenal.”

“It’s radioactive now?” Cordy asked curiously, studying her own stir-fry. “Wow, I’m amazed that they were even competent enough to accomplish that…”

While she studied her plate, a faux-onion flew over her head, impacting with the side of Spike’s arm. Several carrots went in the other direction before she sat back up and noticed the snickering faces of those around her.

“What?” she demanded, baffled.

The snickering continued.

“Where is Oz, anyway?” Willow desperately tried to salvage what little maturity was left in the group. “I haven’t seen him for a few days now.”

“He’s been spendin’ all his time down at the Club,” Spike provided. “S’pose he gets bored in that room all by ‘imself what with Devon off interviewin’ this weekend…”

“I still can’t believe he made it to an interview with the New York Times!” Cordy sighed. “I am so jealous right about now…”

“You took one journalism course your first year and you hated it,” Spike pointed out.

“But, still!” Cordy insisted. “New York Times? How amazing is that?”

“Too bad Oz isn’t here to say the obligatory monotone ‘amazing’,” Elizabeth joked.

“Rumor has it,” Tara leaned in conspiratorially, “that he’s got a girlfriend.”

Several surprised looks turned her way in response.

“Oz?” Willow said in surprise. “And I didn’t know about it? And how did you hear about it?” She actually sounded a bit hurt by this. After all, she and Oz had been best friends since orientation.

“H-He didn’t say anything,” Tara quickly reassured her. “It’s just he’s been hanging around at the Blue Club almost all the time lately, and Devon mentioned that there was this girl that was coming onto him…”

“Oh yeah,” Spike nodded. “What was her name again? Vicuña?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Veruca,” she corrected him. “A Vicuña is a llama-like creature.”

Spike shrugged disinterestedly. “’S still a bloody ridiculous name.”

“So speaks the guy named ‘Spike’?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief.

“You’re one to talk, Bu—”

“Don’t you dare say it!” she snapped, cutting him off in horror.

“I won’t,” he assured her quickly, picking up on her concern. “I just—”

“Never mind.” She brushed his hand from her shoulder and picked up her glass of orange juice. “I don’t want to talk about it here.”

There was an uncomfortable silence at the table for a few minutes while everyone turned back to their food and tried not to notice the worry on Spike’s face or the anger on Elizabeth’s.

“I was going to ask if the usual winter depression has hit yet,” Cordelia finally spoke up, “but Elizabeth’s and Spike’s domestic issues have neatly answered my question.”

Several annoyed looks turned in her direction.

“What?” she demanded defensively. “It’s what everyone was thinking!”

“Uh, yeah…” Elizabeth was blushing slightly at the reference. She wasn’t all that mad at Spike, actually. It’s just that this was something private that they really couldn’t resolve in front of this huge audience. Under the table, she gave his thigh a little squeeze, and his shoulders immediately relaxed in response.

“So, Willow,” Xander decided to break the icy silence, “when’s the next lab tutorial?”

Willow groaned. “Friday,” she provided. “God, will someone just kill Carl already and put us all out of our misery?” She banged her head on the table for effect, and Tara patted her shoulder reassuringly.

“What’s this, then?” Spike asked curiously, sparing a small smile for Elizabeth first.

She smiled back.

Willow entered rant mode. “Ugh! Carl’s the other TA for bio 130s this semester. And he’s totally, completely incompetent! It’s like I have to do triple the work just to make up for his idiocy!”

“It’s pretty bad,” Xander agreed ruefully. “Like, he tried to explain the Kreb’s Cycle last week and began to discuss the Carbon Cycle in excruciating detail for about fifteen minutes before Willow finally managed to interrupt him and inform him that he was answering the wrong question. And his even his description of the Carbon Cycle was all messed up.”

“How do these people qualify as TAs?” Willow wanted to know. “This guy couldn’t even get 1+0 right!”

“Literally,” Xander backed her up. “He said it was 0. And then he wrote 1x0=1 right next to it. Like, I get that he wasn’t exactly paying attention to what he was writing…but still!”

“He always grades the homework all screwy, too,” Willow shuddered. “It would be easier if I just did it all myself…”

“Poor baby,” Tara cooed sympathetically.

“And some lucky people,” Xander cast an accusing eye in Elizabeth’s direction, “quit bio this quarter so they don’t even have to deal with this crap.”

“Hey, I’m no fool,” Elizabeth said smugly. “Hell like I was going to write anymore of those twenty page lab reports.”

“I take it a career in the sciences is not for you, then?” Tara teased lightly.

“Dear gods, no!” Elizabeth agreed enthusiastically. “And, given my calculus problem sets, I’m seriously considering fleeing to the humanities right now.”

“Econ has lots of problem sets,” Cordelia commented. “If you suck at them so much, then maybe you shouldn’t be an econ major.”

Stunned silence once more.

“What?!”

“You’re positive she and Anya aren’t twins separated at birth?” Elizabeth teased.

Cordy huffed. “Anya’s into money; I’m into theater. And all of her inappropriate comments are about sex, whereas mine are scathing personal critiques. I mean, we’re two completely different people. Hello?!” The smile on her face indicated that she was more amused than anything, though.

Willow chuckled at that before turning back to Elizabeth. “Are you taking econ this semester?” she asked curiously.

“Dear gods, no,” Elizabeth said with a little smile. “Calculus is more math than anyone should have to handle at once.”

“Your dad’s good with this?” Tara asked in surprise. “I got the impression that he was kinda…”

“Nazi?” Elizabeth suggested helpfully.

“I wasn’t gonna say in unless you were,” Tara agreed with an amused smile.

Elizabeth laughed in response.

“So, you managed to convert the Nazi yet?” Willow added with a grin.

A guilty look crossed Elizabeth’s face at that.

“She’s gettin’ through this semester on the ‘lying to dad about classes’ technique,” Spike supplied helpfully.

“Yeah, I kinda glossed over the fact that I’m taking two visual arts classes,” Elizabeth admittedly ruefully. “It’s part of my larger strategy of lying that I’m not seriously considering being a visual arts major…”

“Your dad doesn’t approve?” Cordy asked, following the conversation intently.

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Elizabeth agreed.

A wicked grin crossed Cordy’s face. “Screw him,” she instructed.

Elizabeth blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Screw him,” Cordelia repeated. “My parents tried to boss me around, too. So I just went nyah-nyah, declared myself a theater major, and let them squirm in their garish, stuffy old mansion.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth sighed. “Can you be, like, my role-model?”

Cordelia grinned. “Only five things you need to know. 1) College is about learning in general, not about learning how to do some job. 2) Even if your degree is completely worthless, you can still get some job at a 7/11 after you’ve graduated and then go to vocational school. 3) College is about what you want, not what your parents want. You’ve left home; it’s their job to deal with it. 4) College students have enough stress as it is getting through college without cow towing to pushy parents. So ignore them. 5) Scotch guard is excellent for waterproofing cardboard boxes, should you ever have to live in one. And, there’s free wireless Internet access in Central Park.”

“Ah, the only things a true nerdy CofNY student needs,” Xander sighed wistfully.

Everyone laughed.

“Did you really tell your parents about the homeless park bit?” Tara asked curiously.

“Why do you think they’re still agreeing to pay my tuition?” Cordy agreed. “Once they found out that I’d actually done all the research…” She affected a deep voice in mock-imitation of her father. “ ‘The Chases can endure the shame of allowing one of their own to become an actress, just so long as the newspapers never find out that she lived in a cardboard box’.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “Wonder if that one would work on my dad,” she sighed.

“If not, go for the rich eccentric aunt,” Cordy advised. “That was my back-up plan.”

“My mom was the eccentric,” Elizabeth grimaced, “marrying ‘new money’. Got me jack-squat inheritance, too.”

“What?” Spike said in mock-horror. “And here I was datin’ you for your supposed millions!”

Elizabeth swatted his arm playfully. “Jerk,” she grumbled.

His eyes instantly softened into what she had labeled the ‘kicked puppy-dog look’, and she remembered that he was probably still worried that she was pissed about that little nickname he had almost let slip. She reassured him with a coy smile, and her foot slid up his calf under the table.

His eyes widened, and a sly smirk lit up his face. He casually nodded in the direction of upstairs, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. OK, so maybe she should let him stew in the fear that she was upset with him for a while longer…

The hurt puppy-dog look was back. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Now she knew he was doing that on purpose…

“So, how is that short story collection of yours coming?” Xander asked Tara, drawing Elizabeth’s attention away from her boyfriend’s yummy lower lip and back to the conversation at hand.

“Good,” Tara agreed. “I’ve only got about three more to go, so I should be done ahead of schedule.”

“That’s my girl,” Willow said proudly. “On top of everything as usual.”

“On top of everything?” Tara’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t help but tease Willow a bit.

Willow’s – and everyone else at the table’s – eyes widened in surprise. Much blushing and stuttering occurred, even from Spike and Cordelia. After all, it wasn’t every day that Tara stunned everyone speechless.

“What, you makin’ the risqué comments for Anyanka while she’s sick?” Spike finally managed to sputter.

Tara gave him an evil grin. “And judging by the lovely maroon shade of your face, I’d say I’m succeeding,” she agreed shamelessly.

Elizabeth laughed when Spike’s face reddened further. “Poor baby,” she cooed, patting his soft, peroxide curls affectionately.

He debated whether to scowl at her or take advantage of the lovely opportunity offered him to bury his face in her shoulder when two surprising new arrivals completely distracted him from his quandary.

“Hi guys,” Jonathan’s voice practically squeaked as he sat down at the table.

His companion looked even more nervous, if that were possible, and practically dropped his tray on the table before sitting in the seat beside Jonathan. “Hey,” the blond said with an embarrassed chuckle before ducking his head shyly and quickly focusing on his food.

The table blinked in unison at the odd phenomenon.

“Hi,” Willow said back with a bright smile, “I’m Willow.”

Jonathan and his friend both looked up. They exchanged a glance for a second, and there was a bit of pointed staring and eyeball rolling in some bizarre communication that only the two of them understood before Jonathan finally let out a weary sigh.

“This is Andrew,” he provided.

“You’re a friend ‘f Jonathan’s, then?” Spike inquired, tilting his head to one side as he studied the newcomer.

Andrew looked up at him, blushed horribly, and muttered something under his breath that maybe could’ve been “yeah.” He promptly turned back to his tray, and he and Jonathan exchanged a couple of whispered comments.

“How about you, Spike?” Xander decided to start up the conversation again to save the pair across the table from him any further embarrassment. “Has this fine, evil institution been treating you well?”

Spike chuckled at that. “’S amazin’ how much less painful everythin’ is when you don’t go to class,” he advised.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “How on earth have you managed not to flunk out yet?” she demanded.

“’S all a matter of managin’ your time best, ducks,” he informed her. “You figure out which classes you can skip without missin’ anything from the readings.”

“Or you can just not do the readings, but attend class,” Xander pointed out wisely.

“Or you can not do both,” Spike commented. “Hypothetically speakin’, o’ course.” He quickly amended off of the several dangerous glares he was getting. “Trick is to pick whichever option takes the least amount ‘f time.” He sighed satisfactorily and slipped his arm over the back of Elizabeth’s chair.

She was, oh, so tempted to give his chair a strategic little shove while he tilted back precariously like that but decided to restrain her impulse for the moment. “If you’ve got free-time, you’re perfectly welcome to do my calculus homework for me,” she offered.

“I get anythin’ in return?” he asked with a lascivious smile.

“A headache?” Elizabeth suggested. “That’s what I always get.”

“What calc class are you taking?” Jonathan nervously spoke up.

“Just regular,” she sighed. “But my TA’s lack of knowledge of the English language might as well make it honor’s calc in Swahili.”

“Thought he was German?” Spike inquired, one eyebrow raised.

“Whatever.”

“What’re you doing?” Jonathan asked. “’Cause if you’re having problems…”

“You know how to do delta-epsilon proofs?” she demanded.

Andrew scrunched up his nose. “Those suck,” he provided. “Waste of time.”

“See? Someone else has some commonsense,” Elizabeth gestured to Andrew.

He gave her a nervous smile before his eyes quickly flicked back over to Spike again and then down to the table.

“You ever want any help…” Jonathan began hesitantly.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” Elizabeth assured him. “’Cause me and math? Completely unmixy.”

He shrugged and turned back to his food.

“Thanks for offering, though,” she quickly amended. “And I’ll stop by if I’m in real trouble.” Now she just felt bad. Jonathan had been opening up a bit more before break, but now he seemed as solitary as ever. Well, except for this mysterious friend of his that he’d somehow picked up.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much always in my room,” Jonathan agreed with the beginnings of a shy smile.

“Cool,” Elizabeth agreed, dropping her empty water glass down on her tray with a note of finality. “You done?” she asked Spike.

“No, I thought ‘d observe the stir-fry some more an’ see if it moves by itself,” he retorted sarcastically, gesturing to where he’d shoved his tray into the center of the table in a fit of pique.

“Honey, stop being obnoxious and crabby,” Elizabeth teased, ruffling his hair as she got up.

Spike followed her a few seconds later in a flurry of black leather. “Ta, all,” he nodded to the group.

“See everyone after my problem session from hell,” Elizabeth agreed. “Tell Anya I hope she feels better soon,” she added for Xander’s benefit before moving off to bus her tray.

“Y’know,” Spike commented, waiting for her by the door after she was done, “I woulda thought that all the pointless gossip would stop after the horror that was high school…”

“But it’s way too much fun to stop,” Elizabeth retorted, linking her arm through his as they walked across campus. “Plus, you don’t think they gossip about us nonstop whenever we’re not around?”

He chuckled at that. “Undoubtedly,” he agreed. He paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts before he spoke. “You’re not mad at me?” he began hesitantly.

She pulled him to a halt and rose up on her toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He pulled her up against him in response, and they savored the taste of the other’s lips for a minute before pulling apart and heading towards the math building once more.

“That feel like I’m mad?” she asked rhetorically.

He grinned. “I am sorry ‘bout mentionin’—” he began.

“Don’t worry about it,” she insisted.

“I mean, I know you don’t exactly want everyone to know—”

“I said ‘don’t worry about it’!” she exclaimed in exasperation.

“And now you’re mad at me again,” he practically whimpered.

“Argh! I’m not mad at—” she began, clutching her hair before she giggled. “God, you have to be the most irritating man alive,” she decided.

“And you know you love it,” he retorted, rolling his tongue up beneath his front teeth in a suggestive manner.

She merely rolled her eyes, shook her head, and entered the math building.

A moment’s thought, and then Spike decided that he really had nothing better to do this hour than crash Elizabeth’s problem session as well…

Yeah, for some reason I felt the need to write a one scene chapter. One of those strange moods again. Ooh, and I introduced the last significant character to this story. Warren doesn't get to go up 'cause he killed Tara and we hate him. Ha! Take that, Warren! No story for you! (Don't mind me; I'm crazy today...) I think you're supposed to review now. Or something. ~_^