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Chapter 3- Thorns Twist in Your Side


See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you.
With or without you
I can't live with or without you.
-U2
-With or Without You


Spike spent the next couple of hours exploring the cottage and getting settled. Although not large, there was plenty of room. The main living area with its large windows encompassed most of the first floor. Light colored walls and dark wooden floors covered with colorful rag rugs and soft overstuffed furniture completed the casual look.

A glass vase filled with the blue wildflowers sat cheerily atop an antique wooden table with four chairs. Located at the far end of the room was a spotless galley kitchen.

He opened the cabinets and noted the complete complement of dishes, pans and silverware. A new coffee maker sat invitingly atop the gleaming counter. A quick look into the bathroom revealed a new vanity with lots of counter space and an old fashioned claw foot tub next to a modern shower. A set of narrow stairs led up to the bedroom. He liked that room immediately; a queen size bed covered with a cheery lemon yellow comforter dominated the space, along with an older oak chest and dresser. At the other side of the room was a large window that displayed an incredible view of the rugged coastline.

After unpacking, Spike decided to travel into town, pick up groceries and have dinner. Arriving at the parking area, he noticed a tall man and a shorter dark haired woman standing on the gravel admiring his car. They both turned as he sauntered over to them.

The dark haired woman smiled. “Is this beauty your car?”

He nodded.

The man extended his hand and said, “My name's Robin Wood and this is my wife Faith.”

Spike answered warily. “'Lo. Name's William, just arrived today.”

“Yeah, we checked in two days ago. We're from Cleveland, Ohio.” Robin looked at him. “Are you visiting from England?” He smiled. “Obviously you're not from around here.”

Spike leaned against his car and lit a cigarette. “Actually, I live right outside L.A”

Robin's eyes slid back to the sleek sports car. “Man, you just don't see an Austin- Healey too much anymore. What year is it?”

Spike, surprised at all the attention his car was getting, decided the couple were just harmless car enthusiasts. He shrugged. “It's a 1964.” He decided he needed to get away from the couple before they asked too many personal questions.

He finished his cigarette and smiled thinly. “I'm sorry, but I hope you'll excuse me. I'm just heading out for groceries.”

“Okay, well, maybe we'll see you around. We're in cabin two.”

Spike slid easily into the convertible, turned the key and the finely tuned engine roared to life.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Faith looked at Robin with a slight frown. “You know, that could have gone a lot better. We really need to find something that will interest him.”

He shrugged. “I dunno, I think it went okay. Man, that car really is fine.”

She lightly pushed his arm. “That's the only thing men ever notice.”

Robin leered at her, draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. “Cars aren't the only thing.”

******

Buffy returned from lunch and was trying to help Dawn with the mountainous paperwork when the telephone rang.

“Hi Buffy. It's Willow. How's everything going, with you being all open?”

“Hey Willow. So far so good, with the taking care of actual people and everything.

Are you still going to be able to spend spring break with me? I've got a cottage all ready for you and Tara.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm calling about. I'll be there next Thursday, probably around lunch, depending on the traffic. Tara's got some stuff to finish up before she can leave, so she'll be there Friday. I can't wait to see you. Do you still need me to help with the office so Dawn can visit her friend? I'm ready and willing to help my best friend.”

“Yeah, I could definitely use the help. I want Dawn to have some time to just hang. She's been working so hard. And it's impossible to do everything with only one person, especially now that I've got actual paying people to take care of here.”

Dawn, listening to the one sided conversation, motioned for the phone.

“Hey Willow. Listen, that guy who reserved his cottage on the internet arrived this morning. He'll still be here when you get here, so I'm going to ask him if he minds answering some questions for us about the website. Do you have anything you want me to ask specifically?”

“Dawnie, that's a great idea. Yeah, let me fax you some questions. I gotta go; my class is going to start. Tell Buffy I'll see you guys Thursday. Bye.”

“Bye.”

******

It was dusk when Spike finally pulled into the gravel lot. He had spent most of the afternoon excitedly driving around Sunnydale buying supplies so he could cook for himself. No one had recognized him in the sleepy town, and he was feeling free for the first time in a very long time.

He had always cooked for Drusilla, who had had absolutely no interest in the culinary arts. When she first left, he had eaten mainly in restaurants. After that he let other women cook for him. Finally he had almost stopped eating completely, unable to summon either the energy or the sobriety.

His supplies stashed away, he dropped into a chair on the porch, lit a cigarette and gazed at the crimson sun settling into the ocean. Listening quietly to the incoming surf breaking heavily against the rocks, he realized part of what he'd been missing. He needed to start actually looking and listening to things that were bigger than he was again. The solitude and the ocean could offer him solace and hopefully the chance to learn how to really heal.

A slight movement on the beach caught his eye. He leaned forward barely able to discern the figure sitting on the rocks. It was Buffy, the woman he had met earlier. She was sitting above the high tide line on a large boulder, feet tucked under her, as she stared quietly into the water. Spike suddenly sensed her as a kindred spirit, someone with the same need for solitude.

With the setting sun as a fiery backdrop, she appeared almost luminous, a mythological goddess. The writer in him couldn't help putting words to the vision that she unknowingly provided. She is solitary Aphrodite sitting desolate at the cold water's edge.

Shaking his head at his thoughts, though he couldn't seem to stop watching her, Spike stood, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray.

Stepping through the door, he paused as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He immediately noticed the laptop sitting idly on the wooden table, like the proverbial elephant in the living room. Running his hands through his hair, he wearily climbed the stairs to bed.





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