Spike woke when Buffy turned over and the loss of her warm, pliant body against his left a cool void.  Smiling, he opened his eyes and for the first time his smile didn’t fade when no light welcomed him.  He turned on his side, reaching out to touch her.  Whether the feelings he had for her were borne of his gratitude for her attention or not, they surely felt real at that moment.  His body ached with the need to hold her.  Shifting across his bed, he put his arm over her waist and pulled her towards him.  With a soft moan, Buffy pressed back against his body, causing him to moan in return as her buttocks settled against his groin.

Unable to resist, Spike began to nuzzle at her neck, placing feather-light kisses along its smooth curve.  When he nibbled on her earlobe, she shivered and chuckled.  

“I could get used to being woken up like this.”

Spike grinned and nipped a little harder.  “I can think of something I could get used to.”  He jerked his hips forward, leaving her in no doubt about his intentions.

“Oh, no you don’t!  Not before I brush my teeth, anyway.”

Reluctantly, he let her slither out of his clutches and he waited patiently for her return.  Counting the number of steps she took to get to the bathroom, the squeak of the tap being turned on.  Brush, brush, brush, gargle, spit.  She took two less strides to get back to the bed, and he smirked as she slid back between the sheets.

“What are you looking so pleased about?”  She nudged him.

“Nothing.  I’d better go brush my teeth, yeah?”

“Do you really want to?” 

He gasped as a small hand encircled his erection.  “Guess not.”  Buffy laughed out loud, his words little more than a strangled croak.

“So what do you really want to do?”  She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, then put her hand behind his head as she kissed him with an urgency that had him groaning.

“Jeez, Buffy…”

He worried that he would forget colours, but the orgasm that morning was like fireworks going off in his mind.  Panting, completely spent, Spike collapsed on his back and waited for his senses to settle down. 

“I think I’ll cancel my gym membership,” said Buffy, wheezing slightly.  “This has been a much better workout.”

Laughing, Spike moved his hand until it found hers and held it tight.  “I never realised how flexible you were.”

Buffy slapped him with her free hand, before pulling her other away and climbing out of bed.

“Hey!”  He leaned forwards, fingers seeking her out.  “Where are you going?” 

“Work.”

“But it’s Saturday…”

“I know and it’s our busiest day.  Sorry, but I’m already running late.” 

She leaned down and pecked his cheek, batting away his grasping hands, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.  The smell of her shower gel preceded her return to the bedroom.  Less than five minutes later, she’d scraped her still damp hair into a ponytail, thrown on a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt with butterflies on the front, and pushed her feet into a pair of battered looking trainers.

“Spike, I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go.”  Another kiss, this time on his lips.  With a moan, she stood up. 

“I’d love a cup of tea.”  

“Help yourself to anything you want.  Just pull the door shut behind you – it’ll lock automatically.  I’ll call you later, okay?”  With that she was gone.

“Uh…  Okay.” 

The bubble of his happiness burst when he tried to shower.  Stubbing his toe on the toilet as he tried to find the cubicle’s door set the tone for the next few minutes.  He realised he had no clue where her towels were kept, so settled for using the damp one Buffy had left hanging over the door.  The shower itself didn’t so much revive and refresh him as scald and freeze him as he struggled to figure out the controls.

Back in the bedroom, his mood deteriorated further as he couldn’t find the clothes he’d stripped off in passion.  Eventually, he gave up one sock as lost forever and stomped to the bedroom door.  Pausing, Spike tried to remember where everything was.  The cane that could help him, was sitting somewhere in the middle on a table.

Forcing himself to stay calm and move slowly, he found the couch without mishap.  He sat on it, shuffling along until he got to where he’d sat the night before, so he could reach his cane.  With a sigh, he flicked it out, but sat with it between his knees for a while, trying to calm his frustration.  Waking up in his girlfriend’s apartment shouldn’t be so damn difficult.  He turned his head to where the kitchen area was; he’d kill for a cup of tea.

Buffy’s words came back to him.  Help yourself.  What would she think when she found out he couldn’t even do that simple task?

“Pathetic sodding loser.” 

Living at home meant that he had done nothing to care for himself except to learn to shave without using a mirror, shower and get dressed. 

“There are loads of blind people, and I bet they can all make a cuppa.”

Standing up abruptly, he made his way to the kitchen.  Opened just about every cupboard in his quest for a mug, failed to find a kettle, resisted the urge the throw the mug across the room and put it back in its place before growling with frustration and thumping the counter with his fist.

His heart hammering in his chest, he pulled out his cell and dialled Oz. 

“Hey, Spike. How’d last night go?”

“Yeah, good…well great actually, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m useless.”

Oz began to splutter and despite his bleak mood, Spike chuckled.  “I don’t mean how you’re thinking!  I mean I can’t even make a bloody cup of tea.”

With a dramatic sigh of relief, Oz said, “Thank God!  Was really thinking that was going to be TMI.  Anyhow, it’s gonna take a while before you know where everything is.”

“I don’t mean just here.  Since... well, since I came out of hospital, I haven’t done anything like that.  When I want something to eat or a hot drink then I just ask for it.  I’ve got my little fridge filled with pop and beer, but that’s the extent of my self-sufficiency.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

“When I was getting released from hospital after the tests over here, the doctor said something about a facility not far from here…?  Mum vetoed it, and to be honest I didn’t like the idea either.  Too much like accepting this is how it’s going to be from now on.”  He swallowed hard, hating saying it out loud.  “But…well, it’s not going to change, and I can’t live like I have been forever.  So I was wondering…?”

“Do you want me to get some information about it for you?”

As ever, Oz’s matter-of-fact attitude calmed Spike’s frazzled nerves. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.  And how about I pick you up and we go grab some breakfast?  I’m starving.”

“You’re on.”

“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

They hung up and Spike walked slowly back to the couch, waiting in silence until Oz buzzed up to say he’d arrived.  It wasn’t until Spike pulled the door closed that he realised he had no clue where the stairs were.  They’d come up in the elevator, but he’d been too wound up about the evening ahead to ask her to show him where the buttons were.  

“Need a hand, buddy?”

Spike hesitated.  This was what he really hated – this reliance on others especially strangers.  “Uh…yeah…thanks.  I need to get to the front door, please.”

“Sure thing.  The elevators just down the hall to your right.”

The man walked alongside Spike as they headed for the elevator.  He pushed the call button.  When the doors opened with a ping, he asked Spike to go in first, before following him and pressing the relevant button.

“So…  my name’s Gunn…Charles Gunn.  I live at 3B.”

“Spike.”  He held out his hand towards the man. 

Gunn’s throaty chuckle filled the elevator.  “Just Spike?  Didn’t your parents like you much?”

“It’s the names they gave me that prompted me to use the nickname.”  Spike grinned. 

The elevator lurched to a stop.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime, man.”

The doors slid open.

“Spike!”  I was just on my way up.”  Oz glanced at the tall dark-skinned man who was ogling his green hair.

“Nice to meet you.”  Gunn rested a hand on Spike’s shoulder, nodded at Oz and walked away.

“You too.”

“Who was that?” Oz asked as they walked out the front door to where he’d parked his van.

“Dunno, I was just having some trouble so he stepped in.”

“Good of him.  I don’t think he liked my hair though.  Looked at me sideways.”

Spike laughed.  “Oz, not many people do like your hair.  Even Willow hates this green colour.”

“I can’t change it too soon, or my hair will begin to fall out.  And you can stop snickering, blondie.”

“Watch it.”  Spike waved his cane. 

They climbed in the van and Oz drove a few blocks.  “Did Buffy eat before she left this morning?” Oz asked.

“No…she was running a bit…er…late.”  He scowled, he never used to spend so much time bloody blushing.

Oz cuffed his arm.  “Hmm…Willow didn’t eat either.  What’d you think to dropping by the store with bagels, donuts and coffee?”

“Uh…”  Spike shuddered at the thought of rows upon rows of things to bump into, but if he was serious about being with Buffy, he had to at least try to act normal.  “Okay, I guess.”

“Cool.”

When they got to the store, Oz told Spike that there was a small parking lot at the rear as he pulled into it.  He guided Spike around to the rear door before grabbing the boxes and cups. 

“Door’s right in front of you.  Can you knock on it, for me?”

“Sure.” 

Spike took another pace and rapped loudly.  A few minutes later the door was opened by a grumbling Willow. 

“This door is for deliv—oh!  Spike, hi.”  She grinned and glanced over his shoulder.  “Oz!”

“Can we come in?  We are delivering something, aren’t we, Spike?”

“Yeah.  Breakfast.  Got bagels and donuts and—”

“Donuts?  Did someone say donuts?”  Buffy appeared.  “Come in.  I’ve got to get back out front, there’s a kid that I just know is trying to steal a Silver Surfer.” 

She disappeared, leaving Willow to lead them through the small store room cum kitchen to the area behind the counter.

“And don’t come back!”  The front door slammed and Buffy faced them with triumph waving a comic book.  “Got him!  The little creep had it tucked down his pants.”

“Eew!”  Willow grimaced. 

“I’m not sure I like the sound of you going round pulling things out of other blokes’ trousers.”  Spike raised his eyebrows.

At his side in an instant, Buffy took Spike’s hand.  “He wasn’t a bloke-God that sounds wrong with my accent-he was a kid.  Twelve max.”

“Well, I guess that’s alright then.”

“Here there’s a stool just to your left.  Sit on that while I look what we’ve got for breakfast.”

Spike did as he was told even though it rankled that he’d been ordered around like a little kid to keep him out of the way.  He knew he was being unreasonable, but things like that just cut him to the quick.  She should be sitting on the stool while he plied her with donuts, not the other way around.

Noticing Spike beginning to close down, Oz grabbed one of the cardboard cups and passed it to him. 

“Here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.”

Soon his momentary discomfort was forgotten as the three of them chatted amiably.  When Oz began to get restless, Spike offered to stay with Buffy, as long as the girls didn’t mind.  He’d decided he quite liked his stool after all.  All that waited for him at home was a day spent mostly alone listening to music or twanging out a song or two on the guitar.  Buffy instantly told Willow she’s no need to stay since Spike was with her.  Careful of upsetting Spike by worrying about the store getting busy and not being there, Willow gave her friend a hug and left out the backdoor with Oz.

Spike’s stool was near the cash register, so he had the very pleasant experience of Buffy pressing close to him with every purchase made.  She’d gone to find a comic from the storeroom to fill a telephone order when Spike heard the tinkle of the bell as the front door opened.  Footsteps approached him and Spike turned towards the rear of the store in the hope of hearing Buffy’s return.

“Hey, dude.  The newest Angel in yet?”

“Uh…I don’t know…sorry.” 

“Okay.  I’ll go take a look.”

Spike smiled weakly and turned his head once more to where Buffy had gone.  Something slapped down on the counter next to him, making him jump.

“Found it.”

“Great…uh…she’ll be back soon.”  He kept his face down-turned.

“Can’t you take the payment?  I mean, man, you’re almost sitting on the register.”

“Sorry…I don’t know how it works.”

“Don’t know how it works?  The price is right here on the back.”  The lad waved it to and fro, Spike could feel the air wafting his face.  “All you have to do is push the buttons, it’s not so hard…unless you’re dumb and blind!”

A muscle ticked in Spike’s jaw as he raised his head. “You got that half right.”

“Huh?”  The guy scowled at Spike, then froze as realization set in.  “Oh…shit…man, I’m sorry…I jus—”

“That right?  I’m guessing you’re not as fucking sorry about it as I am.” 

Spike slid off the stool, and with the cane swinging from side to side, he walked as quickly as he dare towards the storeroom, almost colliding with Buffy.

“Did I hear someone come in?” she asked.

“Yeah…just coming to get you.”

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.  Look you’d better take the money before you lose the sale.” 

She touched his hand, but he pulled it out of reach, waving her away. Frowning, she shook her head and went to serve the customer.  As he heard the cheerful beeps of the keys on the register, Spike leaned against the door and fought the rage that bubbled inside him. He thumped the wall with the heel of his hand and groaned.   Pulling out his cell phone, Spike dialled for a cab. 

“What are you doing staying back here?”  Buffy said as she stepped close to him.

“Wanted to do this.”  Spike touched her arm and then traced his way up to her head, cupping it, he pulled her into a kiss.  When their lips parted, he added, “I’ve got to go.  Cab’ll be here in a minute.”

“Did something happen?”  She squeezed his hand tight.

“No…nothing…just, I know it’s lame but it’s the first time I’ve stayed out all night and my mum’ll be worrying.  Don’t want to push my luck with her, okay?”

He could tell Buffy was pouting by her voice.  “No…not okay.  I liked having you here.”

“I liked it too, but—”

A horn honked outside the back door. 

“That’ll be my ride.  We’ll talk later.”  He kissed her again, kicking himself mentally for being unable to keep from running away.

“Okay.”

Buffy went to guide him to the door but he shook his head.  It’s okay…it’s Xander, he’ll help me.  You’d better watch the store, yeah?”

“Suppose.”  She kissed his cheek.  “Would rather be with you.”

“I know.  Same here.”  He kissed her cheek and tapped his way to the door. 

Buffy waited until he’d gone through it before returning to the counter.  Something had spooked him. 

“Damn it!”  She kicked at the stool he’d been sitting on.  “Just when he was loosening up.”

Spike was silent for most of the ride home, Xander soon stopped trying to chat.  Finally, Spike was alone in his room, having successfully avoided his mother who was entertaining some of her charity friends in the lounge.  He threw himself down on his bed, relishing the fact he knew exactly where everything was.  Instead of waiting for Oz to do it, Spike found the number for the doctor and called himself.

“Hello?  Doctor Walton?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi…it’s, Spike…er…William Pratt.  I just want to ask you about…”

By the time he’d hung up it had all been arranged.  Spike would be collected on Monday morning and spend time at the facility working on how to adapt fully to living with his disability, with the hope of making him able to be more independent.

Now he just had to tell his mother and Buffy…