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Chapter 3

The other end of the phone was silent. It seemed almost as if Buffy could hear her voice echo on the other end…wherever that was.
“Ok, listen, whoever this is…you woke me up with only two hours of sleep, and not to say I don’t appreciate your call, but you’re kinda getting on my nerves with the no talking thing.” Buffy paused from her rant and waited patiently. ‘Wrong number maybe…’ her mind mused clearly annoyed.

Suddenly there was a long drawn out sigh from the other end. It startled Buffy from her thoughts and again she asked, “Hello…”

This time a frustrated squeak sounded into her ear, as if someone was trying to talk but couldn’t get the words out. “Okay, last chance then I’m hanging up. I know someone’s there…”

There was muffled talking in the background, loud music, and the slightly familiar sound of mumbled British curse words. “Bloody hell.” The voice rang clear in Buffy’s mind, but it couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. He was dead and she’d spent too many months convincing herself of that fact for it to be him.

Her mind was racing. Smells, sounds, memories… all from him came flooding back from all recesses of her mind. “Spike…?” It was faint barely a whisper, and frankly it was all she could handle as confused tears welled up in her eyes. But the silence remained, confusing Buffy further.

There was another sound of struggled speech, and then nothing. No background talking, no loud music. Everything was gone. “Hello…” Her words echoed once more filled with an almost desperate hopelessness.

Tears began to flow more heavily down her cheeks. She just didn’t get it. ‘Am I going crazy? I could have sworn…no, I know it was him.’ Some part of her just couldn’t let go of the idea.

She couldn’t have imagined her phone ringing, her answering, and him…could she? Now she was starting to second-guess herself. Looking back, her day had been pretty rough with barely any sleep on top of that, so maybe it-

Her thoughts were cut short by a sharp knock on the door. Buffy’s head snapped to stare at the entrance to her bedroom, where outside she heard the sound of footsteps. Dawn, she guessed, was already awake and was answering the urgent knocking.

“Hey, you’re back. What’s…” Buffy heard Dawn’s voice flutter with confusion. “Andrew, is something wrong? I thought everything went fine with the collection…unless Buffy lied to me again. I thought we got over the whole protect Dawn from life thing.”

Buffy groaned at her sister’s words and threw the blankets covering her body to the side. She could almost picture Dawn with her arms crossed angrily ready to glare daggers at her. Slinging her legs over the edge of the bed, and checking the mirror to make sure no signs of tears were present she made her way out into the apartment to see what all the noise was about.

Stepping out into the open area Buffy saw Dawn and Andrew cowering together as if sharing secrets. “What did I miss?” Buffy said trying to force a smile as she sat down on the couch across from them. Apparently whatever news Andrew had to spill he had already mentioned to Dawn due to the spooked and stricken expression on her face.

“What is it?” Her posture straightened, as she looked closer at Andrew. She knew that everything had gone fine with the new L.A. slayer, but was there something she didn’t know. “Andrew come on…secrets make enemies not friends…or something like that,” Buffy stated furrowing her brow.

“Buffy…” Dawn’s voice wavered unsteadily, as if she wasn’t sure how to approach the situation. “It’s Spike.” Dawn uttered the words slowly allowing each syllable to sink in.

Buffy’s world stopped for the second time in one night. It was Spike. She knew it now. It was him; he was alive. He had tried to contact her, but…what the hell did he think he was doing, hanging up on her like that? No. There was no time to be mad at him that could come later. He was alive. That was all she needed to know. He was alive and she had to get to him.


Spike slammed the receiver hard against the rest of the pay phone causing the phone to crack in half and dent into the rusted metal.

How could he have been so stupid? As soon as he had heard her voice, sobriety had eased its way back into his system and he was a bumbling mess. His drunken confidence had flown out the bloody window, and all that was left was the inept, barely audible ramblings of his inner William.

Spike really didn’t know what had come over him. Her ‘hello’ reverberated throughout his whole body sending him into a state of utter shock, and he just couldn’t move, or couldn’t speak for that matter.

A slow aggravated sigh fell from his lips as he ran both of his hands through his heavily gelled, beached locks. Suddenly, he was aware of his surroundings again as the night air and loud music came flooding back.

Throwing his backward, a low primal grow escaped him. “Bloody women.” He had always been loves bitch, letting anyone with a swing in their hips and a glint in their eyes tug him along until they had used him up and threw him back. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Why did everything involving her have to be so confusing? Everything used to so easy. Want. Take. Have. Buffy was so new, like uncharted territory to him, even though he had mapped every inch. But that was her body, not her. He’d never been close to her, and at this rate he never would.

Giving up on his drunken escapades, he stalked back to his apartment. It was three or four in the morning he guessed, not like he wore a watch. He was tired, and was sobering up giving him one hell of a headache, so as soon as he reached the inside of his place he flung himself into bed.

It had been a rough couple of days, full of barely any sleep. With tonight’s events under his belt, sleep was something he was in great need of.


Chapter End Notes:
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