CHAPTER NINETEEN

Buffy drummed her fingers against the hard cover of her textbook, her chin resting in the palm of her other hand. The lecturer at the front of the hall was talking about some old psycho-babble she didn’t understand, and her mind kept drifting back to what was waiting for her at home. She sighed, glancing across at the red head sitting next to her.

Willow was scribbling note after note, her eyes darting from her page to her text and down to the professor. Buffy glanced back at her own notepad. There was a few doodles of cartoon flowers and one of a really weird axe, but nothing important. Glancing back at Willow, she sighed, and gathered her things as quietly as she could. As soon as the lecturer turned his back, she stood, and headed for the door- Willow would lend her the notes later.

She fumbled through her bag for a moment before pulling out her cell phone, ducking into an empty lecture hall as she flipped it open. Pressing the first button on her speed dial, she held the phone to her ear, biting her lip as she listened to it ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom,” Buffy straightened as her mother picked up, dropping her bag in an empty chair. She walked idly down the steps towards the front of the classroom, “Just calling to check in.”

“At two-thirty?” Joyce asked, her voice confused, “Don’t you have a class now?”

Buffy grimaced, “Uh, its running late, hasn’t started yet. So I thought I’d check in, see how... see how everything is going over there.”

“Buffy, everything is fine, you should be in class,” Joyce sighed, but Buffy could hear the beginnings of a smile in her mother’s voice.

“Yeah, well, Willow will lend me the notes later,” she smirked at her mother’s exasperated sigh. Then she hesitated. “So... everything’s alright there? You guys are okay?”

Joyce exhaled, a touch of amusement in her words. “Would you like to talk to him, Buffy?”

“What? Oh, no, its fine. I’m sure—“ Buffy reassured hurriedly even as she heard her mother move through the house and the phone change hands, clamming her mouth shut as the noises stopped. “Hello, Spike.”

“’Lo, pet.”

“How’s... how’s everything?” Buffy asked pointlessly, sitting down on the desk at the front of the room. She noticed idly that she could hear his breathing through the phone, and wondered why he was doing it all, especially with the damage to his ribs. Maybe it was to make her Mom more comfortable being around him, or maybe it was just habit.

“’s fine, love. We’re fine.” He assured her, “Joyce is keeping me company.”

“And you’re getting enough blood? I can pick some more up on the way home...”

“We got plenty,” Spike interrupted gently.

“Is she getting it hot enough?” Buffy asked, even as another part of her noticed how ridiculous it was that a Slayer cared if the blood a vampire was drinking from a coffee mug was human temperature. She decided it was because she knew how much Angel had hated cold blood- it had to be the same for Spike.

“Close enough,” he answered, with the slightest touch of humour in his voice. “Not as scalding as the bit made it, anyway.”

“Do you need me to pick anything up? I can swing by the crypt on my way to pick Dawnie up from school and—“

“Got the duster, love, don’t need anything else.” Spike said, and Buffy become aware of the fact that most of this conversation, most of almost all their conversations today were consisting of him interrupting her half-sentences. She was about to tell him to stop doing it when he spoke again. “Wait a minute, you’ve been by the crypt, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Buffy’s brow furrowed. “I went and got your duster, and some of the shirts I brought back for you were yours too. I couldn’t afford that much clothing.”

“Was, uh... You didn’t happen to run into—“

“The girlfriend figure?” Buffy interrupted smugly, despite how weird it felt to think of Spike dating Harmony. It was about time she got to interrupt him for a change. “Oh, yeah.”

Spike hissed, and she held back a giggle. “I think she wasn’t happy to see me. At all.” She grinned, biting her lip. “Did you know your girlfriend was the jealous type, Spike?”

Spike groaned, and Buffy really started giggling. “What did she say to you, pet?”

“Oh, nothing... she just told me that I was obviously a terrible Slayer if I had to steal your clothes to make some kind of statement, that she knew you would kill me as soon as you got back from wherever you have been the last few nights, and that my outfit was so last season.” Buffy listed off nonchalantly, swinging her legs a little.

Spike chuckled on the other end of the line. “Did you tell her where I was?”

“I told her that you were out of commission, and were not exactly fit to be ‘ripping me apart like the dangerous, deadly Blondie Bear you are’.” Buffy started laughing again, her shoulders shaking.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Spike muttered, and her giggling doubled. “Oh, shut it, Slayer.”

“I’m sorry.” She giggled. “I’m sorry, I am. It’s just...” she fell into laughter again. Spike was silent on the other end of the line while she laughed, except for a few humoured sighs and little breathy chuckles she could have swore she heard. “Okay, okay... I’m sorry, Spike. But seriously, Harmony’s your girlfriend?”

“Wouldn’t say that, Slayer,” he sighed, and Buffy could almost picture him rubbing the back of his neck. If he could do that right now, at least. “Harm’s a mistake that, well, doesn’t really know when she’s outstayed her welcome.”

“But seriously, Spike, Harmony?” Buffy pressed. “Even for a one night stand, that’s rough. You could do way better.”

“You think so, pet?”

Buffy cleared her throat, realising she was discussing his dating life... and without scathing remarks. “Well...yeah, I guess you could attract plenty of nice, bloodsucking girls that don’t think that ‘Spike-y’ is not at all with the emasculating for someone claiming to be the Big Bad.” She smirked.

“Sometimes even the Big Bad has a bad day, pet.” He said quietly. “Shouldn’t you be in class or something, Slayer?”

Buffy grimaced, sighing. “Wasn’t really feeling the talk from the toupee today,” she shrugged.

“The toupee?”

“Oh, yeah, my art professor has the worst toupee. Seriously, you should...” She cut herself off. Damn it.

“I never saw the draw of a toupee,” Spike told her coolly. “If you’re going to bald, at least have some bloody dignity about it.”

“Oh, please, you’re just saying that because there is no way they make them in your colour,” Buffy eye-rolled, thankful for his nonchalance, “Radioactive white probably isn’t a regular request.”

Spike chuckled on the end of the line. “That’s because no one pulls it off like me, love.”

“Oh, please.” Buffy said, “Oh! Willow and Tara said they can stop by this afternoon after they finish classes; see if they can do anything to help.”

“That’s great, pet.” Spike said warmly. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Buffy waved her hand dismissively out of habit, standing up. She headed to her bag, slipping the strap onto her shoulder, her phone tucked in the crook of her neck. “Anyway, I better go before Wills actually realizes that I’m gone and sends out a search party. I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

“I’m fine, pet.” Spike assured her. “I’ll see you when you get back.”