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Authors Chapter Notes:
Hey guys! I hope you all enjoy this one because its going to be posted a lot slower than my last fic. Please review and tell me what you think!


The stage was empty. No actors took the space in gorgeous costumes, projecting classic lines and expecting the audience to swoon, no sets towering over, no spotlights or colors to fit the mood of a piece. Only ropes and curtains, the ghosts of previous productions, took the stage.

Of course, Spike Williams didn’t see it that way. The stage just looked dead to him. No actors paraded around in silly costumes, yelling pointless lines and expecting the audience to laugh, no sets half broken, no colorful lights to blind those facing them. Only weird metal objects littering the back and irritating theater geeks filling the front rows of the auditorium like a plague.

He never wanted to audition for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In fact, the idea alone made him want to heave. Unfortunately, he was caught spraying graffiti on the library wall and now had to audition for the play. The principal insisted he start spending time with “other kinds of students.” He would have rather had months of detention, but the principal and his detention instructor decided it wouldn’t do him any good. Spike tried to go for any other school activity, but they were either full or didn’t want a punk like him in their midst’s. So, the school play it would be. A small group of misfits, generally bored teenagers and genuinely interested theater geeks brought together to make fools of themselves.

“Alright. Hello everyone!” Mr. Giles, the director, ran up the stairs to the stage. “Welcome to the auditions for our fall production: A Midsummer Nights Dream. I see some old faces and some new ones. To those who have worked with me before, I expect you to help those who haven’t along in the process. Now then… for those of you who do not know the plot of A Midsummer Nights Dream, I will sum it up. The Shakespearian masterpiece tells a wonderful tale of tomfoolery, scandal, magic and love.

“The beautiful Hermia is in love with Lysander. And although the boy loves her back, he is below her station and is therefore unsuitable to marry. Demetrius, on the other hand, plans on marrying Hermia for both love and title. Helena is in love with Demetrius and thinking she will get him to love her, she tells him that Lysander and Hermia plan to elope in the forest that very night. An enraged Demetrius goes into the forest to stop the elopement and a disappointed Helena follows. But the mischievous faeries in the forest have their own plans, especially a trickster named Puck who works for the mighty Faerie King Oberon. Hijinks ensue with a happily ever after at the end. So,” Mr. Giles clapped his hands and rubbed them together in anticipation. “Let’s begin!”

His speech was followed by loud whoops and hollers of appreciation from the house of the auditorium. Spike just rolled his eyes.

The audition went alphabetically. This meant that Spike had to wait and watch everyone A through V. Most kids obviously had no clue what they were doing, which made him feel better considering he would be among them. Half the boys couldn’t understand the language and half the girls ignored the commas and line breaks. Spike was already embarrassed to be a part of it. Out of the sixty some-odd kids who auditioned, only a few seemed competent enough: Xander Harris, a klutzy sophmore and class clown, Willow Rosenberg, a soft spoken junior, Angel Feins, a jock-head, cocky senior, Lorne Hart, a flamboyantly gay and extremely talented junior, and Buffy Summers, a junior and well known theater geek since birth.

Buffy Summers starred in every play the high school put on, the middle school before that, and even the crummy elementary school plays. In classes, she was the girl everyone turned to, to read Shakespeare in English or Plays in Drama. Spike thought that because of her status, Buffy believed herself in charge of the Theater Department. He hated her because of her holier-than-thou attitude and diva demeanor. Spike rolled his eyes again when she graced the stage with her presence.

“Hi Mr. Giles!” she waved to him at the back of the auditorium. “Hi everybody.”

“Hello Miss Summers, welcome back. What will you be auditioning with?”

“Oh, right. I am auditioning with Helena’s love speech?”

“Whenever you are ready.”

“Ok,” Buffy took a deep breath and began.

“How happy some o'er other some can be!
Through Athens I am thought as fair as she.
But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so;
He will not know what all but he do know.
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes,
So I, admiring of his qualities.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste;
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste.
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he-“


“Thank you Miss Summers, that will be enough.” Buffy smiled, did a sickeningly sweet curtsey and left the stage. Spike mimicked her in falsetto and snickered. He received several glares from other members of the theater department. If they were going to always act like that, he was in for a miserable few months.

After a few more auditions, Spike’s name was called. He dragged himself to the stage and gazed out accusingly at the director. He didn’t notice.

“And you are Spike Williams? That’s a rather unusual name. Alright, what will you be reading for us today?” Mr. Giles looked at him with an enormous smile on his face. Spike continued to stare out angrily.

“I didn’t bring anything.” Spike crossed his arms in an act that he found defiant.

“That’s alright. Our stage manager Jenny will get you a side.” A woman sitting next to Mr. Giles nodded and walked to the front of the auditorium.

“Sorry, a side?”

“A piece from the show to audition with.” Jenny picked a sheet out of a folder and handed it to him. After skimming the page, Spike spoke up again.

“What is this? This is complete gibberish!”

“No, Mr. Williams, it’s not. You just need to give it a chance. Now read the first line.” Spike did not like being treated like a kindergartener, but he read it anyway. He didn’t want to get into any more trouble than necessary.

“Ok…‘My lord, fair Helen told me of their stealth,
Of this their purpose hither to this wood;
And I in fury hither follow'd them-'”


“Stop! Stop, stop.” Mr. Giles spoke quietly to Jenny, who in turned nodded and walked to Spike. She ripped the paper out of his hands and gave him a different sheet. “Now, Mr. Williams, let me explain this to you. Do not think of the words like a boar thinks of food, just to gobble it up and get through it. Think of the words like a staircase, building towards a higher meaning and point. Can you do that for me?” Spike nodded, though he wasn’t completely clear on the objective.

When my cue comes, call me, and I will answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho! Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare vision-‘"

“Ok, now try it again, but have a little more confidence in your words. Think of every word as an idea forming in your head. Now, go from I have had a most rare vision.” Spike was beginning to feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. Out of all the other auditionees, no one received the treatment he did. Even the terrible ones were let off the hook. Nonetheless, he continued.

"'I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had… but man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall sing it at her death.’"

No one spoke for a little as his inherent talent stunned the audience. Suddenly, a few people began to clap. The rest followed as Mr. Giles smiled, apparently pleased with himself. Everyone applauded that is except for one Buffy Summers, who looked at him in complete disgust.

Mr. Giles ended the applause and told everyone to hush. He said that the cast list would be up the next morning. Then, the many teenagers got their stuff together and left in small cliques. Quite a few of them patted Spike on the back for doing a great job. When he was about to leave, however, he was faced with an disdainful Buffy Summers.

“Yeah?” he said as she continued to block his path.

“Look,” she said as she poked his chest. “I know why you’re here and let me tell you I think it’s ridiculous. Just because the principal doesn’t like the Arts Department doesn’t mean he should just throw every juvenile delinquent into the plays. I don’t want you here, but I don’t really have a choice. But you do. I’m going to ask once that you forfeit the play before the cast list goes up tomorrow.”

“And why would I do that?” Spike sneered.

“Because you are going to ruin it! You have no clue about theater! And I mean, yeah, you have some raw talent, but I don’t want you messing up the play, ok? Please quit.”

“Hey,” he said between clenched teeth. “I don’t want to be here but I don’t have a choice, do I? I’m going to be suspended or expelled if I’m not in this and I’m not gonna let that happen because of a snobby bint like you.” Buffy gasped and stared him down with fire burning in her pupils.

“Don’t you dare.”

“In fact, I was thinking I’d quit, but now I’m going to stay in it just. For. You.” He smiled mockingly and turned his back on her. She fumed behind him.

Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be an interesting couple of months.


Chapter End Notes:
*excerpts used from A Midsummer Night's Dream all belong to Shakespeare*




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