Title: Approaching Normal
Author: Restive Nature
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS or Supernatural. They are owned respectively by Whedon & Mutant Enemy and by Eric Kripke. No infringement is intended. This fiction is intended for private enjoyment only.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crossover
Type: Friendship/ Romance
Pairing: Buffy/ Sam Winchester
Summary: At last they got the chance at a normal life that they thought they always wanted.
Spoilers/ Time line: Season 5 of Buffy (of sorts) and Pre Series for Supernatural.
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first please.
A/N: This is written for the Jess? Who's Jess? challenge from the Twisting The Hellmouth site.
Chapter Two
Open To Interpretation
Sam was finding much to his relief that college as it turned out, wasn't that different from high school for him. Well, there were some differences, such as the fact that he was actually able to stay put in one location and he knew that he would be seeing the same teachers and people day after day, or at least week after week, depending on the frequency of the courses that he had signed up for. But at least, in that circumstance, the one of his father moving his family from supernatural job to job and town to town, Sam had been able to get the whole gamut of teachers and their different moods and methods.
The other benefit was the ability to quickly memorize the material presented to him and a quick understanding of the deeper meaning. So he was finding that instead of being lost and floundering like he had feared he would, he was actually managing to float along in this new world. It did help that a very industrious student liaison officer had been great at corresponding with him before he had even arrived, offering sound advice at what courses to choose.
Sam hadn't gone into college having a preset notion at what he wanted to study. Just that he wanted to study, to make something of himself, to have some normal in his life. One of the pieces of advice that he had given Sam was remarkably similar to what Buffy had said his first day, to have an easy class to help take the pressure off. Sam's schedule was varied, but interesting to him so far. And as it turned out, he was now, this Thursday morning, headed to that very fall back, easy course that he had chosen. Introduction to Modern Art Appreciation. It was a general course, available at any level, so Sam thought it wouldn't just be newcomers.
He had to admit that he felt a little out of place, being a year or so behind the other students. He figured that most of them figured that he had taken a year off of high school or something like that. And it wasn't that bad. There had been a grandmother in his intro to computer programming class, yesterday. So maybe he was just being sensitive. After all, he might not feel like he fit in very well yet, but then, it being a new gamut for a lot of his classmates so far, at least he wasn't alone in that boat.
At least he had found that the possibility of making friends here was easier to contemplate. There weren't as many lies to be told, no excuses to be made why he couldn't go somewhere or do something or be involved in group activities. He could, to his heart's content. The only drawback and while it was something small, it was more major than Sam had realized, was the fact that his brother Dean wasn't here to share this with him. But every time he thought on that, Sam reassured himself that this was healthy. This was good for both himself and Dean. Brothers were not meant to live joined at the hip from birth to retirement community living. And if he had stayed, that's how it would have been.
If they'd made it that long.
Determinedly, Sam shook off the negative thoughts as he entered the classroom. He was happy to see that it was auditorium style seating instead of classroom. His long legs covering ground quickly, he hopped up the steps until he was about mid point and chose a seat in a currently empty row. Dropping his backpack to the floor, he busied himself retrieving a notebook and pen, noting once more that quite a fair number of students had laptops. That was something he should seriously consider buying, instead of just relying on the loaner he would be signing out next week for the computer programming course. Having retrieved the needed materials, he pushed the pack under the seats so that his classmates wouldn't trip over it. His legs had already caused that problem and embarrassment and he didn't want a repeat of that performance.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” a feminine voice sounded from beside him. He knew that voice, Sam realized seconds after she spoke and his head came up quickly. He was grinning before he knew it and then realized belatedly because he had this sudden hope that the words were for him. And they were.
“Hey Buffy,” he sat up straighter, noting that she was barely taller than he, even when he was seated. “Let me guess, this is your bird course?” he asked teasingly.
“Nah,” she grunted softly, “kind of a mom inspired course. Mind if I sit with you?”
“No, of course not,” he started, pleased that she hadn't taken offense at his teasing and the fact that she was sitting with him, especially when that task for some reason included her stepping over his legs to take an inside seat. He had leaned back to allow her room, but still, the spicy sweet scent of a vanilla based perfume wrapped itself around his head as she passed.
Giving himself a moment to gather himself and for Buffy to settle herself, Sam stared down at the professor, currently rifling through a stack of bound pages on his desk. And then it was that something caught at his brain and he was turning back to Buffy.
“A mom inspired course?” he asked, trying to decipher where that had come from. Buffy of course, looked up at him innocently not seeming to understand his puzzlement, until Sam once more glanced at their very masculine instructor. Unless there was something he didn't know. And then she giggled.
“Sorry,” she huffed out. “Didn't mean to imply with the gender bending. No, my mom works at an art gallery in Sunnydale.” She paused for a moment as Sam tried to place the name. He had heard it before. “It's a little town, north of LA, where we moved after my parents divorce. Anyway, when I was choosing my courses for this semester, my mom starting getting mushy over the courses she took in college.”
“So you're taking it to please her?” Sam questioned, feeling slightly jealous. She was lucky she had someone in her life like that. It was an experience that he himself would never get to share in, not that he would be able to explain it to her, beyond the clipped 'my mother died in a house fire when I was a baby', that was the standard answer for those rude enough to inquire.
“Eh,” Buffy hedged, shrugging the shoulder that was closest to him. “Well, she was talking about how she wished she could take a course like this to update herself on some new artists that are up and coming. But since the gallery is more geared towards natural history pieces, they wouldn't pay for the schooling. And since this course fit into my schedule, I figured I could check it out, see if it was worth Mom paying for something like this for herself.” She sighed as she glanced around at the posters adorning the wall. “I don't know, I might end up dropping it.”
Sam couldn't adequately describe why his stomach suddenly felt like it was dropping to his feet when she announced that.
“So art's not your thing then?” he asked of her cautiously. That he could understand. The stepping away of having to follow in your parent's footprints. Would actually advocate for if that was what she was feeling.
“Not really,” she wrinkled her nose at him, which some part of Sam's very hormonally controlled brain informed him was adorable. Suddenly his stomach was back where it was supposed to be. “I actually like for my apples to be apples and people to look like people and for big squishy blobs to be just... blobby.”
Sam laughed. There was the verbiage again. He quickly recovered himself as she looked askance at him. “Blobby,” he grinned, explaining the point of humor for him. She nodded. “Is that a Californian thing or...?”
“Nope, mostly a Buffy thing,” the blond nodded enthusiastically. “So is this the easy course you picked out or are you thinking about a career?”
“My liaison suggested a nice light course to offset everything else,” Sam explained. “And I chose this because well, there are no wrong answers when it comes to art interpretation.”
“Says you,” Buffy snorted delicately. At that, Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sorry. Shipment of nude African statuary that was apparently very wrong for my sixteen year old eyes to see, according to my mother.”
“Okay, I'll give you that,” he rejoined speedily. “But how did you interpret it?” She took his teasing in the tone that he meant it.
“That African males are very short and squat yet think ver-ry highly of themselves,” she shot right back.
Sam laughed again. “Well, who's to say they weren't exactly like that however many centuries ago that the statue was created,” he pointed out with a small smirk on his lips.
“Huh,” Buffy shook her head. “I wouldn't know. Of course, according to my friend Xander, National Geographic backs up my findings.”
Xander? Sam felt a wariness. He had seen this before in his high school career too. Some girls seemed to collect guys around them in every shape, size and form, from friends to boyfriends, seeming to have very few females as confidants. But Sam knew he should reply to what she had just said, lest this beautiful young woman think something was wrong and withdraw from him. Sam was surprised to realize that even if he was interested in pursuing something with her and he wasn't quite sure if he was at that point in his life, he certainly wouldn't want to lose a friendship with her. She was truly interesting on a level that he could appreciate.
“Never read much National Geographic,” he mused, knowing full well what the draw was for many hormonal teenagers.
“Let me guess,” Buffy whispered conspiratorially. “Big brother to the rescue with a real porn stash.”
Sam was slightly shocked, mostly because she had already figured out Dean's MO, but also because she remembered him mentioning Dean from the previous conversation. And a lot of shock because suddenly they were discussing something so... Yeah, Dean would be laughing his ass off at Sam right now, if he were here.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Sam muttered, almost a little darkly. But Buffy did laugh.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “That was a little personal and not even the right person, huh?”
He waved away her concern with one hand. “You might want to save figuring out my brother's motivation in life until you've had a psych degree in hand for many decades,” Sam mused. He gathered his brows together for a moment as he thought that through. “Actually, maybe it would work better if you went for abnormal psych. Then maybe Dean might make sense.”
“Aha,” Buffy giggled. “I gotcha. Younger sibling syndrome, and wow, try saying that three times fast.”
Sam was saved from answering by a sudden flurry of activity around them as a few more students crept into their aisle and he had to move his legs again. Buffy was lucky that she only had to turn slightly sideways to make room. And just as the last rush of students entered the room, the professor glanced up at the clock and then pulled the door shut.
“Please everyone,” he spoke loudly enough to be heard over the din, “go ahead and introduce yourselves to those around you. Until I get the chance to at least have some ideas of your names, I'll be asking you to keep to the seating you're in. Makes it easier for an old man.”
There was laughter at that, since their professor looked to only be in his early forties at the latest. And then he was dividing the syllabi into thirds and handing them off to the people in the front with instructions to pass them back.
“Well good news,” Buffy whispered to him, “I'm sensing humor here.”
“That is a relief,” Sam agreed.
“Now just as long as he doesn't expect us to just parrot his opinions on the art, we should be okay,” Buffy nodded. Sam agreed again, since he had had teachers exactly like that.
They quieted again to take the syllabus handed back to them before sending the lighter load on. Sam noted that Buffy was writing her name and information on the inside cover and he quickly followed suit with his own.
“All right,” Professor Clements continued, “rules of the classroom are the same as in the rest of the civilized world. For those of you that are dying to ask, I allow bottled drinks and hot drinks with lids, so make sure and file that request often with the kiosk guys. No gum, it's a distraction since you can't converse and chew cud at the same time.” There were amused titters all around the class at that. “Besides, the janitors hate having to clean it off the seats and floors. Now, I am obliged to tell you that my office hours are from three to four every weekday, you can reach me on the phone then too and my email address is listed on page two. I do check it avidly and try to get back to serious questions as quickly as possible.”
Sam noted the information exactly as was listed.
“Everyone should understand right now that while most people would consider this a bird course, I don't,” Professor Clements seemed to grow serious. “Grades will be based on classroom interaction during group discussions, papers assigned, midterm and end of term projects. This is not going to be a class where we look at a painting and then all stand back rubbing our chins and saying hmmm.”
Sam smiled widely. This was actually starting to appeal more to him than the last thought the instructor had offered. He chanced a glance at Buffy, beside him to see how she was responding to this, but noted that she was watching the professor in all seriousness, looking quite serene. But then, she was used to this already, having studied here the previous year.
“I want your opinions people,” Clements continued. “And don't worry about sounding like a freaking critic for the Times. We're here to appreciate and if you don't, then say so. But you know, politely.”
Sam did catch the grin on Buffy's face as she ducked her head for a moment. Her eyes slid sideways to him and Sam felt the infectious nature of that grin transmute itself to him.
“All right,” Clements loud voice caught everyone's attention again as he moved to the white board and reached up to pull down a projection screen. “Everyone turn to page five for a quick overview of the artists and relevant material we will be going over this quarter.” He withdrew a remote from his pocket and aimed it towards the back of the room. “In case anyone actually feels like studying outside the classroom.” That gentle jibe caused more laughter and then silence, for the most part, settled over the class as Clements began introducing them to the collective modern artists, which Sam found to mean any artist creating notable offerings within the last hundred years.
He found it easy enough to be following along with. The professor was breaking down the work to sculpture, paintings and also photography, noting that Annie Leibowitz was a force to be reckoned with. The only thing that worried him was the teacher's assertion that it would be important for the students to understand the pop culture surrounding the era of the art they were to study. That wasn't a strong suit for him. General history yes, but he'd never had the chance or the inclination to immerse himself in fads and trends growing up. He put aside that worry. There were plenty of websites that would be dedicated to this information and he knew well how to put the library to use.
Soon enough the class was winding down. Clements informed the class that their next meeting the following week, they would get into the paintings he had lined up and it would be good idea to do the recommended reading listed. Sam fully intended to.
“So what did you think?” he asked of Buffy as she straightened up in her seat, putting away her notebook, syllabus and pen in her backpack.
“I think that I could definitely get on board with his teaching style,” Buffy answered easily. “I've been told I have a very vocal learning style.”
“You were just itching to make fun of it, weren't you?” Sam teased but was surprised when she leveled him a knowing look.
“Like you weren't?” she teased right back. “I mean honestly, Blobby McBlobberson with the French titles. I took two years in high school and I still don't get it.”
Sam was surprised that he got what she was saying immediately. He had trouble himself trying to decipher the French titles assigned to those amorphous paintings of color swirls. “Like that one, The Curtain Veiled?”
“Is that what it was?” Buffy chuckled. “I got curtain, but I thought it was the curtain's curtain and why does a curtain need a curtain? Is it hiding from something?” Sam chuckled with her. It was almost scary how much he was enjoying himself with her. But then she suddenly went pensive and he froze, wondering where her mind had wandered to now. “Or maybe that's it exactly. Curtains hanging on the window, all of life going by, everything peachy keen. But what about inside? What's going on in the house that it has to hide or that it's hiding from?”
Sam blinked. Several times.
“Wow,” the corner of his mouth turned up. “You might be better at this class than you think.”
“I'd better write that down so I don't forget it then,” Buffy nodded importantly, though Sam was sure that he cold see a glimmer of something in her eyes. “Seeing how blobby's not going to be until next month.”
“Definitely a smart idea,” Sam agreed.
“But yeah,” Buffy continued, “the class seems to be all right.”
Was it Sam's imagination or was she suddenly eying him with interest. No, no mistake as her eyes roamed over him.
“It definitely has it's perks,” she grinned widely. And then she turned away. Giving Sam a chance to exhale the breath he had been holding. That was flirting. She had definitely been flirting with him. But just as his mind was wrapping itself around that fact, he noticed that she was speaking again.
“...have to adopt a wait and see attitude about it,” she finished. Sam hurriedly tried to look as if he had been paying attention to the whole sentence. But what was she talking about, him, the class, something else entirely?
The class, surely that was what it was, he assured himself. Of course, the quickest way to figure that out would be to ask her out, but then, if she had been hinting that she wanted to take things slow otherwise, wouldn't he look like a complete ass for disregarding that?
He would.
But he was saved from the embarrassment as Buffy glanced at her watch and stood. Sam, realizing that she needed to get out of the row of seating, stood as well, his bag in hand. He moved the few steps to the aisle and then aside as Buffy drew on her messenger bag.
“Can't be late for my next class,” she explained, though she certainly didn't owe him one.
It was nice to know though, that she wasn't just taking off for no reason or that he had done something to spook her. He did think to offer to walk her, but her next words put an end to that.
“It starts in like half an hour on the other side of campus,” she explained as she moved down the steps. Sam followed after her. “I timed it and I really have to hurry to make it on time from here.”
“Oh okay,” Sam nodded. That was a very reasonable explanation. Of course, not everyone had a mile eating stride like he did at times. Not that there was anything wrong with Buffy's legs. From Sam's point of view they were very nice indeed.
“So, see you around Sam,” she called as she departed from the room, pausing at the door to give him a quick wave.
“Bye Buffy,” he called back, even though she was out the door. 'So much for asking her out to coffee,' he sighed to himself. It wasn't until he was nearly to the library to start checking out popular culture references that Buffy certainly had to give him an unasked for explanation of where she was in a rush to go. That maybe, just maybe she had seen the interest from Sam and was reciprocating, but didn't want him to feel as if she were blowing him off.
That thought alone was enough to keep a spring in his steps for the rest of the day. After all, he was guaranteed to see her at least once a week. He could only hope that luck would bring him more.
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