*Ring.*

*Oh, God! I can’t do this! I need to hang up!*

*Ring.*

*No, Buffy! Don’t wimp out! If you don’t do this now you never will!*

*Ring.*

*Oh God oh God oh God…I can’t! I can’t do…*

“Hey, this is Willow. I’m not here right now…or maybe I am here but I’m sleeping, or…or can’t get to the phone, but…um, anyway, I can’t answer my phone, so, um, just leave me a message, and I’ll get right back to you. Well, maybe not *right* back to you, it kind of depends on when I get the message and what I’m doing, and…um, never mind, I’ll call you back as soon as I can…um…bye.”

*Beeeeep.*

Buffy froze. Her heart was racing and a huge, hard lump in her throat seemed to prevent intelligible speech. *Say something, you idiot!* she told herself, swallowing back her terror and forcing herself to speak.

“Um…hey, Will…it’s me. I…I know I haven’t…talked to you in a while.” She paused. “I’m – I’m sorry. I just…I just miss you, and – and I wanted to talk to you. Um, I – I’ll understand if you don’t wanna call me back. But – but *please* call me back,” she added, a note of desperation in her voice, which came out small and trembling with the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes. “Oh, um…this is Buffy. Sorry,” she added suddenly as an afterthought, thinking that it had been so long that her friend might have forgotten the sound of her voice. She hesitated before adding softly, “I – I love you, Will. Um…bye.”

She hung up the phone, staring at the receiver for a long time, wondering if Willow would call her back when she heard the message, fearing that she already *had* heard the message, had been sitting there listening while Buffy poured out her plea, and had simply not wanted to talk to her.

Buffy glanced up, and jumped when she saw Spike standing in the doorway to her room. Releasing her breath slowly when she realized that it was just him – and not Riley, who would certainly not appreciate the fact that she had called Willow – she relaxed a little, giving him a look of mild annoyance.

“You have *got* to stop doing that!” she muttered, but there was no real anger in her voice. Truth be told, her irritation was at herself for allowing her Slayer senses to become so weak. She should have known he was there.

“Sorry,” he said softly, but she noticed that he was trying to suppress a smile.

Perplexed, Buffy frowned slightly. “What?” she asked, a slightly defensive note in her voice.

“Nothing.” Spike shook his head dismissively, but the smile was no longer suppressed.

“No, really,” Buffy pressed. “What’s funny?” She hated the fact that it mattered to her so much that Spike was secretly laughing at her. She should not feel self-conscious about what her slave thought of her, she reminded herself. It really should not matter to her at all.

But it did.

“Nothing’s funny,” he insisted, looking up to meet her eyes with his sparkling blue gaze that once again, stole her breath. His voice was gentle as he went on, “I’m just – just glad that you called her.”

“Shhh!” Buffy hurriedly hushed him, glancing at the door. “Shut the door!”

He obeyed, and turned to face her with a curious look. He obviously did not understand why she would be so secretive about her phone call.

“I – I don’t want anyone to know I’ve called her. Not yet,” she explained. “I don’t want it to get back to Riley.”

Spike was silent for a moment, those piercing eyes studying hers intently. Then he suddenly dropped his gaze and replied in a pointed tone of clear disappointment, simply, “Oh.”

Once again, Buffy was aware that as his mistress, she should simply ignore the unspoken opinion that she heard in his voice, and refuse to allow him any further entrance into her personal matters. But the same part of her that made her watch him when he wasn’t looking, the part that remembered that stolen kiss that she tried hard to forget, now would not allow her to let it go.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, the defensiveness in her voice much more obvious now.

He looked back up at her again, and the amusement in his eyes was obvious. She found herself both irritated and relieved to realize that the fear he had initially held for her seemed to have vanished, or he would not have allowed her to see the expression on his face that could easily be interpreted as mocking.

“Oh?” he repeated, as if unsure what she meant. “Well, last time I checked, it pretty much just meant…oh.” He shrugged slightly, keeping his eyes downcast as he spoke, but glancing up at her with a teasing smirk that he was only partly trying to hide.

“Ha, ha,” she said sarcastically. “You know what I mean. I know you’re thinking something that you’re not saying.”

“That’s usually a good practice,” he said mildly, his eyes downcast again in a parody of submission that was mocked by the sparkle in his eyes and the smile he now openly wore. “A bloke shouldn’t let everything in his head come out his mouth. No good ever comes of that.”

“I guess you would know,” Buffy laughed quietly, shaking her head a little as she looked at him, her eyes softening on him with affection. Spike had changed a lot during the years of his slavery, but it was the things about him that hadn’t changed – his cocky attitude and quick wit – that were a strange comfort to her.

“But really, Spike. Tell me,” she returned to the original topic. “I wanna know. What were you thinking just then?”

His smile faded a bit, and he opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to think better of it and shut it again, still not looking at her.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m practically having to drag it out of you, I’m not gonna punish you for telling me. I promise.”

Spike was quiet for a moment longer, thinking how best to word his thoughts. Then he finally spoke, quietly, “I just thought he was being Mr. Supportive lately, not…not still telling you who you can and can’t see and all.” He shrugged slightly, his voice even lower as he added, “Didn’t think it would matter if he knew you’d called your friend.”

In spite of her promise, Buffy felt irrationally irritated by his words. She did not want to admit to herself that the reason was that she knew he was right. She should not have to feel like calling someone who had been her best friend for years was some unforgivable offense against her husband.

“It doesn’t matter,” she quickly informed him, a slight edge to her voice. “He wouldn’t be mad or anything. He just…doesn’t care for Willow much, and I don’t want to start anything.”

Spike was quiet for a moment, the tone of her voice a warning to him that he was close to crossing a dangerous line. Especially since that one moment of weakness in his bedroom, Buffy had made it clear that she did not want to hurt him, but her violent loss of control before that was still a vivid memory in his mind. He did not want to push her too far.

He only wanted to push her just enough.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that, pet,” he pointed out quietly. “If calling her’s gonna start something…you’ve already started it.”

Buffy was somewhat sobered by that thought, and the realization that he was right. She had not really thought it through before she made the call, but she realized now that if Willow *did* want to talk to her and called her back, she would certainly want to get together. And then, there would be no hiding from Riley the fact that she was reforging the bonds with her old friends. Not for long.

“Only if she actually calls me back,” Buffy countered. “She might not at all.”

The small, sad sound to her voice sent a pang of sympathy to Spike’s heart. “She will,” he assured her softly.

Buffy did not speak for a moment, silently grateful for his support, his attempts at the meager comfort that she allowed him to offer. Finally, she spoke in a much different tone, obviously attempting to shift the mood that had settled between them, “Well, anyway, if she does, Riley will just have to deal with it. I can talk to whoever I want to. I just – just don’t want to cause any trouble when there might not even be any reason to. She might not call.”

*Ring.*

Once again, Buffy froze, her eyes darting to the telephone, wide and almost desperate.

*Ring.*

Unthinking, she looked up at Spike with a panicked expression in her eyes. “I can’t!” she whispered, shaking her head, forgetting in her momentary distress that she had decided not to let him into her emotional crises anymore.

*Ring.*

Spike gave her a look that was understanding but gently reproving – and how weird was that? she thought distractedly through her fear. Her slave giving her that compassionate but still correcting look?

*Ring.*

Without waiting for instruction, Spike reached for the telephone receiver, as Buffy seemed too petrified to move.

However, when he did, she immediately reached for it, not to answer it, but to stop him. “No!” she hissed in a desperate whisper.

But he just smiled and ignored her, speaking quietly and clearly into the receiver, “Finn residence.”

There was a slight pause, before a familiar voice from the past spoke, hesitant and halting, as usual when caught by surprise. “Um…hi…is…is Buffy there?”

“One moment. Let me check,” he said, his tone calm and even and betraying nothing. He clamped his hand tightly over the mouthpiece and gave her an expectant look, his eyebrows raised in a question.

“Well, pet?” he said softly. “Don’t you suppose you’d better talk to her? I could tell her you’re not here…but she’d just call back.”

The look in Buffy’s eyes was trapped and fearful and angry and excited all at once. She started to answer, then stopped, reached forward for the receiver, and then pulled her hand back, and the anger faded from her eyes as they met his again, automatically seeking the reassurance that only he had provided her lately.

“You can do this, pet,” he said softly. “She called you back. That’s got to count for something.”

Buffy hesitated for a moment, encouraged by his words, but still unsure. Suddenly, before she could change her mind and stop herself, she reached out and snatched the receiver from his hand.

“H-hello?” The timid, fearful sound of her own voice surprised her.

There was a silence on the other end of the line that seemed interminably long to her as she waited for her friend to respond. Finally, the warm, familiar voice that she had missed so desperately over the past two years spoke into her ear, hushed and full of emotion that brought tears to her eyes.

“*Buffy*?”

“Hey, Will,” Buffy said softly. It was the only thing that came to mind, but seemed pitifully simple and inadequate for the circumstances.

“Buffy!” Willow’s voice repeated, sounding thrilled now that she was certain that the tiny, terrified voice on the other line was really her friend. “Oh, my God, Buffy, I’ve missed you!”

And with those sincere, simple words, Buffy’s fears were laid aside. She wanted to break down and cry right then with sheer relief at being so quickly and easily forgiven for the rejection she had committed years ago. But she managed to hold it together, though her voice trembled as she replied, “I’ve missed you, too. So much, Will. I – I want to see you. I want us to get together.”

“Of course, Buffy!” Willow was enthusiastic, sounding very excited at the idea. “When do you want to meet?”

The rest of the call was actually very brief. Most of what Buffy *really* wanted to talk about she did not want to say over the phone – or in front of Spike. She would wait to talk more freely with her friend in person, and in private.

She made plans to meet with Willow at a restaurant for lunch, that very day. Willow asked her if she wanted her to call Xander, but Buffy told her not to. Not yet. Relieved and elated by Willow’s unexpectedly warm reception, Buffy was eager to talk to Xander as well. But first, she wanted to spend some time with Willow, to catch up with what had been going on in her life – and to tell her about her confusing dilemma.

When she hung up the phone, she turned excitedly to look at Spike, who was sitting patiently on the edge of the chair near her bed, just waiting quietly for her to finish her phone call. His eyes were downcast again, but when she put the receiver down, he glanced up at her.

His expression was questioning, a mixture of anxious anticipation to know what Willow had said, and a bit of a chagrined apology at his deliberate disobedience to her last command.

She tried to force a stern expression to her face, aware even as she spoke that it was an utter failure. “I told you not to answer the phone,” she reminded him reprovingly.

“Sorry, love,” he said softly, but he was smiling. Suddenly, he looked back up at her and shrugged slightly, his soft gaze intense as he met her eyes honestly. “Wait…no. I’m not sorry. Not a bit, love,” he corrected himself matter-of-factly, and then waited to see what her reaction would be.

She felt a rush of affection for her slave, who had disobeyed her with nothing but her best interests in mind, and her expression softened to a smile. He had just taken the idea of serving her needs to a new level, doing exactly the opposite of what she told him when he knew that what she was telling him would only hurt her.

Because of him, in a few hours she would have a reunion she had longed for, for years now. And she was truly grateful.

Her voice was gentle and full of affection as she said softly, “Thank you.”