As Spike finally sat in the chair, it was all he could do not to pull the woman down onto his lap and keep her there.  Instead, he held her hand for as long as he could whilst she took her own seat opposite him at the small round table.

A waiter materialised and offered a menu to Buffy, who took it with a smile, anxiously watching Spike’s expression.  His mouth set in a resigned line, but he didn’t tense up, or begin to close down as would have been the case before his participation in the program at Sandar. 

“Do you know what sort of thing you’d like to eat?  Or do you want me to read the whole menu?” 

His left hand fiddled with the cutlery, and she reached out to touch it, stilling its nervous motions.

“You can miss out the section for salads,” he said with a grin that wasn’t entirely forced.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”  She giggled and squeezed his fingers. 

“Is this place really posh?”

Buffy glanced around the room.  “Well, it is very nice.”

“No, I mean the menu?”  He could almost hear her frown, so added, “Is it likely to be one of those places where you eat a three course meal and then need to stop for a burger on the way home?”

“Maybe!” 

His grin was genuine now.  “So what starters have they got?”

Buffy read the menu in a voice that would reach only his ears and he was grateful for it.  He opted for the soup, whilst Buffy chose the pate.  Now for the main course.  He listened intently, with each dish he mentally assessed how easy it would be to eat rather than think of the possible taste of it.  Medallions of beef, with creamy mashed potatoes and green vegetables fit the bill, though he almost changed it for the chicken in a white wine sauce that Buffy opted for. 

The waiter must have been hovering close-by as he reappeared as soon as Buffy put the menu on the table.

“May I take your order now?”

Expecting Buffy to reel it off, Spike’s feelings for her went up a notch as he realised she was waiting for him to give the order.

“Yes… er… For the starters we’d like…” 

It was stupid how it made him feel like a man to be able to say what food they wanted.  When he’d finished, the waiter asked if they would like some wine.

“Buffy?”

“I only really like rose.” 

Spike who would have preferred a beer, nodded, “Rose it is then.”

“Thank you, sir.  I will be back with it momentarily.”

“Uh…before you go…”  Spike swallowed the pride that threatened to keep him silent.  “With my main course, can you please ask the chef to plate it up, so the meat is at the front and the potatoes to the back left, and the veg to the right?”

“Certainly, sir.  No problem at all.”  The man nodded to Buffy and walked away.

“How’s Riley?”  Buffy asked.

“Now we’re coming to the end of the program, he seems a bit quiet.  Like he doesn’t want it to end.”

“Unlike you who can’t wait to get out of Sandar.” 

“Yeah.  I mean, I’m glad I did it, and it’s helped a lot, but I want to get home all the same.”

“I want you to come home too.”  Buffy smiled.

“Good.  But the thing is…I don’t know if Ri has really got anywhere to go.  He doesn’t seem to be in contact with his folks.  The army was his life and with his girlfriend out of the picture…”

“That’s so sad.”  She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

“At the barbecue he said he’d been in hospital and rehab facilities since he got injured, I don’t think he’s been home at all.  Makes me feel bad for moping about feeling sorry for myself.”

“Spike, don’t be so hard on yourself.  You still had to deal with a major trauma.”

He shrugged.  “Yeah, but all the time I had people looking out for me.  I know Mum drives me insane half—well, most of the time, but least she took me in.  Rupert’s been great, getting me anything I need.  And I met you, which I would never have done if it hadn’t happened, so…” 

He paused.  So what?  Could he honestly say that if it came to the choice of sight and no Buffy or blind with her in his life, that he would opt for what he had now? 

Fortunately, he was saved from his deep thoughts by the waiter’s return with the wine.

“Would you like to taste it, sir?”

“Uh…okay…not sure I’ve got a good palate for it though…I’m more of a beer kind of guy.”

The waiter laughed softly.  “At least you will be able to tell me if you like it or not.”

Deciding he liked the waiter, Spike grinned.  “That’s true.”

The waiter poured some wine into a glass and held it out.

“Here you are, sir.”

Feeling a little self-conscious, Spike reached out with his right hand as the waiter was on that side and Buffy still held his left.  The glass was pressed into his hand, and he nodded with gratitude.  He hadn’t had wine since his accident and he smiled as its bouquet reached his nose.  It smelled of cherries and…summer.  Holding back a laugh at how he sounded like one of those daft TV wine tasters, he took a sip.  It tasted exactly how it smelled.  He told the waiter it was nice and took another mouthful.

“Why are you smiling so broadly?”  Buffy asked.

“You don’t want to know.”  Spike’s expression was so blatantly sexual that she blushed.

“Uh…you’re right…I don’t think I do.  Not right now, anyhow.”

“Do we really have to stay and eat?”

Buffy kicked his shin.  “Stop it.  And yes we do.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I know.”

“So what colour are you wearing tonight?  I know its silk, from our hug.  I must look scruffy next to you.”

“You don’t look scruffy at all.  That shirt is lovely.  And I don’t know what I’d think of you if you weren’t in your black jeans.  Wouldn’t look right somehow.  My dress is light blue.”

“Like the summer sky?”

“Yes!  Exactly like that.  You know how pale it is when it gets really hot.”

“Buff, you do know I spent most of my life in England, don’t you,” said Spike, delighting in making her laugh.  “But I think I can recall a few really hot days…  I bet you look beautiful…”  He took a deep breath as the fact he’d never see her once more hit home, then he managed a smirk, “Bet you’ll look even more beautiful when you’re naked upstairs la—ow!”

Buffy’s foot found his ankle this time.  “I told you to stop with the naughty behaviour.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop…just leave my poor legs alone, or I’ll be limping by the time I get up from the table.”

The starters arrived and the pair reluctantly let go of each other’s hands whilst they ate.  Buffy fed Spike some of her pate, and Spike managed to survive eating the soup without spilling it down his shirt.

Their wine glasses were replenished before they could ever fall empty.  Spike took care to slow down his drinking, not keen on getting inebriated at the dinner table.  When the water brought the main courses, he set Spike’s down in front of him taking care to have it the correct way around for him.

“I hope you enjoy it, sir.  You’ve picked one of our most popular dishes.”

“Smells gorgeous,” Spike said, as he picked up his knife and fork.  “Thanks.”

Alone again, they talked about how the store was doing, how Willow and Oz were getting along, and how well The Dingoes were playing at the moment.  The one thing they didn’t touch on was Spike’s plans when he returned home. 

The meal was almost over when Spike realised that he’d spent the evening eating wonderful food, chatting to his beautiful girlfriend and for the most part, not caring what others might be thinking of him or whether they were staring at him or not. 

Fred had been right when she’d said he was embarrassed by his lack of sight.  Now he knew just how stupid that was, especially when he compared himself to the life that faced Riley.  Buffy hadn’t said much about the scars on the man’s face, but he knew from her tone of voice that they were bad.  He decided that he had a hell of a lot to be grateful for and vowed to try to leave the self-pity behind.

By the time dessert was on the table, Buffy was teasing Spike by rubbing her foot up against his leg.  Not kicking him this time, rather beginning the seduction that they would continue in the bedroom.  When she saw how much Spike liked it, she slipped off her sandal and let her foot roam a little higher.

“Jeez, woman,” Spike muttered under his breath as he pushed her foot away from his groin.  “Let’s get the bill before you drive me insane.”

Pulling back her foot, Buffy beckoned to their waiter.  “May we have the check please?”

“The cost will be added to the room, madam, so you have no need to pay right now.”

“Oh…great.  Thanks.”  She slipped her sandal back on and stood up as the waiter moved away.  “Come on, time to find our room.” 

She touched his shoulder and he got up, reaching out to take her elbow and flicking out his white cane so he could make sure he didn’t trip over anything.

“Best suggestion you’ve had all night.” 

Trusting Buffy implicitly, Spike’s stride didn’t falter as they walked out to the foyer to use one of the elevators.  When the doors closed and the elevator began to rise, Spike reached up to caress Buffy’s face, before leaning in for a hungry kiss.  He knew they were alone in it and so let his other hand trace her silk-covered curves.

“God, you have no idea what power you have over me,” he said, pressing her against the wall.  “I just can’t resist you.”

Buffy said nothing in reply, just kissed him so hard their lips bruised and let one hand slide over the hardness contained in his jeans.  His eyes squeezed shut, and he thought horrid thoughts to keep from losing control.  Her touch drove him wild and the enforced celibacy he’d endured whilst at Sandar only heightened his emotions.

With a ping, the doors slid open, and the pair jumped guiltily apart on hearing a gasp.  Buffy grabbed Spike’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator, past the elderly couple, and they both began to laugh. Their room was just a few yards away.  Buffy slid the keycard through the slot and then led Spike inside.

Without even thinking of what she was doing, she told Spike where everything was, opening the bathroom door as they passed so he could remember how far from the bed it was.  Spike wasn’t the only one to have learned things from Sandar Lodge.  Buffy had asked Fred what she could do to help Spike without it bugging him, and she would always be grateful to the woman for her advice.

“I’m just going to freshen u—”

Spike pulled her down onto the bed with him.  “Don’t need to.  You’ll only need to do it all again in a few minutes.”

Buffy laughed and kissed him.  “A few minutes…?  Is that all?”  She rubbed her hand over the zipper in his jeans, causing him to moan and thrust up to her touch.

“Few bloody seconds at this rate if you keep that up.”

Her hands moved to the button and then opened the zipper, touching his still cloth covered erection. 

“Since when do you wear boxers?”

“Since I’m sharing a room and living at a bloody facility where everyone knows everything that goes on.  Not having housekeeping telling that I don’t have any bloody underpants in the wash basket.”

“Not good.” Buffy laughed.  “Even more to get off before I can touch you.”

With comical speed, Spike wriggled out of his jeans, pulling the boxers down with them.  “What was that you were saying, Miss Still-got-all-her clothes-on?”

The bed moved as she stood up, then he heard the hiss of a zipper before a rustle of silk told him the dress was now on the carpet. She crawled over to where he lay flat on his back on the bed.

“That better?”

His hands unerringly found her breasts, gently massaging them, his thumbs rubbing over the nipples.  Once again she was struck by just how much sexual experience he must have had, but she didn’t feel jealous of his past lovers, just grateful that she was reaping the benefits of what they had taught him.

She straddled him, purposely trapping his cock so it had no hope of entry.  The anguished moan and shifting of his hips told her she’d achieved what she wanted.

“What was it you said about me having power over you?” 

She nipped at his lips, and pressed her hands down over his wrists, pinning them to the bed.  Even knowing that he was strong enough to throw her off if he’d wanted to, didn’t stop a thrill going through his body at her words.  God, how he loved an assertive lover.

“I said, you have no idea of what affect you have on me.”

She ground her body against his, causing them both to moan.  “Oh, I think I do.” 

His hands flew to cup her face as soon as she relinquished her hold on him.  He leaned up and met her lips with his own. Then traced feather-soft kisses over her cheek and up to her eyes, feeling her lashes tickle as he kissed the closed lids. 

A shift of her hips enabled Spike to penetrate her.  Without another word being spoken, they fell into a rhythm that wouldn’t be denied.  It lasted longer than seconds, but was still minutes short of an hour when they both cried out their release, and collapsed to lie panting side by side on the king-sized bed.

“That was…”  Buffy began but stopped, unable to find the words to do it justice. 

Fortunately Spike understood what she meant and answered eloquently, “Yeah…I mean…”

He raised his right arm, inviting her into his embrace, wrapping it around her shoulders when she snuggled in to lay her head on his chest.  The question that had floated across his mind at dinner reappeared but this time he knew the answer.  With Buffy his blindness didn’t matter.  She’d never known him with sight.  When he was with her he felt whole, undamaged and hopeful of the future. 

He’d worried his feelings were because he was grateful that someone took pity on him and spent time with him.  But the more he knew Buffy, the more certain he was that his feelings had nothing to do with gratitude, just as he knew her feelings for him were not based in pity.

Listening to her breathing soften and even out as she fell asleep, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and whispered the words he’d never uttered before.

“I love you.”