Notes, Acknowledgements, and Disclaimers: Set sometime in S5 or S6, Rated PG-13.
Written for Laura, webmistress of All About Spike, and archivist extraordinaire.
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and all characters associated therewith are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy Productions. I'm just noodling around with them.
The thick wad of cotton around his brain had dissipated enough to let the words seep through. Voice. Familiar voice. "Spike?"
"Yeah, like I said when you first picked up the phone. Strain yourself working on a case, did you? Gotta be careful when you're not used to thinking. Wouldn't want you to blow out your forebrain."
Brain? What? God, he hated getting woken up during the day. He struggled to a sitting position. "What do you want? Why the hell are you calling me at--" He checked the alarm clock and winced at what it showed. "—the middle of the day?"
The long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone was all the confirmation he needed of the other's identity.
"Let's start over, grandad. I want you to back me up on a story I told. You know, 'bout the good old days when we were all a happy family. That's all. Called you cause she don't believe me – so if you'll just say I'm not lying through my teeth, you can get back to your beauty sleep."
"Told who? What?"
In the background, there were muffled noises; scuffling over the phone and a squeak. He could hear Spike laughing, saying, "You're the one who wanted proof, love, so get off." Then a higher-pitched, shrill voice, so low that he couldn't make out what it said, exactly, but loud enough.
"Spike! Is Buffy there with you?"
"As a matter of fact, she is. (Tough shit, Slayer, if you hadn't gotten all huffy about it-) And we're having a bit of a dispute. Need you to settle it."
Suddenly, annoyance slid closer to anxiety. "Spike, if you've done anything with her..."
"You'll what? Scowl disapprovingly at me?" He laughed cheerfully. "I've done nothing with her – not for lack of trying, mate. I mean, I keep telling her that I'm a hell of a lot big--(ow! You bitch!) But for some reason she just won't take my word for it."
The absurdity of the situation is not lost on him. "You mean to tell me that you called me at this ungodly hour wanting me to tell Buffy that you've got a bigger dick than I do? First, Buffy is not going to be interested, and second, that's a lie, and you know it."
"Well, that's the thing. I didn't call for a size report. I'd be more than happy for Buffy to judge for herself on that score, but she won't (Well, no, pet, you'd have to look at it to cut it off, wouldn't you?). See, she doesn't believe me about us. And I know since you two were so close and all, you'll not have kept anything from her."
"Us? What the hell do you mean, us?" And then, with a sudden, sinking sensation, he realized exactly what Spike meant. Oh, hell.
Spike's voice got lower, teasing, seductive. "Oh, I’m sure you remember, Angel. All those nights when I was just a little fledgling that you took under your - well, not wing, exactly. You can't have forgotten. I know I haven't."
He was sweating. He was sure he was sweating. "What did you tell Buffy? I'm going to --"
"Told her we were intimate acquaintances, you and me. Even described your orgasm face for her, but since it's the same as your regular constipated visage, she didn't accept that for proof. Hence the telephone call, so you can clear it up for her. And I can collect my winnings."
"Slayer bet me a carton of smokes, fifth of bourbon, and all the pig's blood I can eat if you just say the word."
"And what if you lose?"
He could practically hear the shrug over the telephone. "Robbed of the pleasure of hearing you squirm, mate." He gave a dramatic pause. "Come to think of it, you're squirming now, aren't you? So even if I lose, I win." His voice took on that teasing quality again, the one that always made him want to slam his fist into his head. "Of course, I've already won, since the Slayer is sitting here in my crypt, bare-arsed after a game of strip poker, and you're sleeping alone again."
"You're a terrible liar, Spike. You always were."
Spike laughed, "Yeah, I was. Are you so sure I am now?"
He opened his mouth to make a stinging retort when he heard a commotion on the other end of the phone. There was a long, still silence, and then a breathless, girlish voice came over the line.
He pulled the phone out of the wall before he went back to sleep. There were just some things that all the guilt in the world couldn't make him face.