[Reviews - 209]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2825 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
betad by seapealsh and dawnofme. Banner by dawnofme.
Chapter Four

A month after his first venture into the big wide world – or rather the small town of Sunnydale – Spike finally felt like he was beginning to live again. With Rupert back from his business trip, his mother had someone else to fuss over allowing Spike to explore the house and grounds without being hindered by her. She still couldn’t resist moving things, and so Spike learnt to use his cane more effectively to avoid falls or at least bruised shins.

He sat in his favourite place, a sheltered part of the far reaches of the grounds. Out of any breeze, the sun was amplified here, and he lay on the grass with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin. Opening his eyes, he turned so that the sun fell directly on his face. It still hurt that the darkness he lived in didn’t alter in the slightest in response to what he knew was bright light.

With a sigh, he sat up and reached out to the guitar he’d placed on the grass before he’d laid down. Oz was no longer his nurse, but he was now a firm friend. They spoke most days and met up several times per week. It helped that Spike’s lack of employment meant that no matter what hours Oz’s job demanded, they could get to meet up.

Playing his favourite songs always calmed Spike, and he found he was beginning to play songs with less depressing lyrics these days. His stomach turned over at the thought of where he was going that night. He’d finally conceded to Oz’s constant nagging to go to a gig that the Dingoes were playing. It was in a club called The Bronze, just in Sunnydale, and Oz assured him that the place wasn’t very big.

Coming to terms with his blindness he might be, but Spike still baulked at going to crowded places. The thought of being surrounded by masses of people all jostling him and bustling about everywhere was a frequent visitor to his dreams at night. He couldn’t think of anything worse.

His fingers traced the surface of his watch and he got up. Time to go to get ready. He slung the guitar over his shoulder, flicked out his cane and walked confidently back to the house.

An hour later, he was sitting on a bench at the front of the house, waiting for the familiar sound of Oz’s van to come up the gravel drive. With Oz’s help and a mail order catalogue, Spike’s wardrobe now consisted of clothes other than the sweatpants that his mother had bought him. So he was clad in black Levi 501s with his beloved boots that Oz had discovered in a bag in the bottom of the wardrobe, a black t-shirt and a royal blue shirt, left open, instead of a jacket. His cane was in his back pocket and his guitar sat at his feet. Oz had persuaded him to jam with them during the sound check. He stood and picked up his guitar as the van pulled up next to him.

“Hey, man. Glad you’re finally making a gig.”

Oz’s feet scrunched on the gravel as he opened the door for Spike. “I’ll put your guitar in the back.”

“Okay.”

Spike allowed Oz to guide him to the door, hating the fact that no matter how much time passed or coming to terms he did, he’d always have to rely on people to some extent for help. He’d never be able to drive again. He shook his head as he clicked the seatbelt in place. Now wasn’t the time for such maudlin thoughts.

*~*~*~*

Playing with the guys during the sound check had been great. None of them had made Spike feel awkward and he could play guitar on a par with them, his lack of sight not hindering him at all. Now he leaned against a wall to the side of the stage listening to the gig, his head nodding in time to the beat of the bass guitar that Oz played.

*~*~*~*

“It’s him!” Buffy leaned close to Willow’s ear and yelled to make herself heard over the loud music.

“Who?”

“Him!” Buffy pinched Willow’s arm. “The coffee shop guy.”

“Ow!” Willow glared at Buffy. “You mean the guy you caught a glimpse of ages ago and have never shut up about since?”

Missing her friend’s sarcastic tone completely, Buffy nodded. “Look. He’s standing backstage.”

Willow tore her eyes away from the dyed blue haired bassist she’d been ogling and glanced to the side. She had to hand it to Buffy, the guy was attractive.

“We’ll have to hang out after the gig. We might be able to talk to them…er him.” She wasn’t ready to let Buffy know she was getting the hots for one of the band members.

Buffy nodded and spent the rest of the concert staring at the sidelines. She thought their eyes met a couple of times but because of the stage lights she wasn’t sure that he could see her.

At the end of the gig, the bassist who’d been introduced by the lead singer as Oz, went up to the coffee shop guy, and she watched as they had one of those awkward man hugs, before disappearing out of sight with Oz’s arm still over his shoulder.

She managed to persuade Willow to hang about until the club closed, but to her utter disappointment, they still ended up leaving without seeing either the coffee shop guy or the bassist.

*~*~*~*

Spike didn’t think he would ever have had a great night out again, but he’d had such a good time at the Bronze that the fact he couldn’t see didn’t cast its usual pall. When Oz suggested he go each time the Dingoes played at the Bronze, he didn’t hesitate to agree.

A couple of weeks later, when the guys in the band suggested he join Devon on stage to sing one of their songs to just Spike’s acoustic guitar, he thought about it for about ten minutes before saying yes. He could lose himself in the music even more when he was playing.

On his big night, Spike’s palms were sweating so hard that he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder, as he feared he’d drop it.

“Ready, man?” Oz’s calm voice in his ear caused Spike to jump.

“Jesus!” He wiped his hand over his face. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Sure you can. You know the song backwards, and you were great at the sound check.”

“But what if I fuck up?”

Oz shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world. And it’s late so most of the audience are wasted! They’ll never notice.”

Spike gave a snort of laugher and shook his head. “That’s a great opinion of your fans you have there.”

“You’d better get on before Devon starts to sing unaccompanied. He does that and we’ll have no fans left drunk or not.”

Chuckling, Spike stepped onto the stage. He’d measured out his strides to the stool he was going to sit on and made it without a hitch. He shifted his position until he was comfortable, and then began to play the intro. At first he faltered, his fingers feeling awkward. Spike found himself closing his eyes like he used to do before the accident to help him focus on the chords. As he relaxed, he began to enjoy it.

The three and a half minutes that the song lasted seemed to pass in a heartbeat to Spike, and he cradled his guitar on his knee as Devon thanked him and told the crowd his name. The cheers that rang out for him made his face flush, and he knew he was grinning like a loon but he couldn’t help it. He stood up, inclined his head in acknowledgement and walked off stage. The rest of the band filed past him as they rejoined Devon for the final minutes of the set.

Familiar with the layout of the backstage area and confident that the guys were always careful about keeping things out of his way, Spike unerringly found the case for his guitar and had just sat at the narrow table, when he heard someone call out his name.

“Spike?”

He glanced up in the direction of the girl’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“Um…God, I can’t believe I’m doing this…look, do you mind if I sit down?”

“Sure.”

He looked towards the stage, but he knew the set list, and he wasn’t going to be rescued anytime soon. The scrape of the chair’s legs as she moved it turned his attention back towards the girl.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Uh…no…”

He smiled weakly. This is what he found difficult. Speaking to someone when he had no clue what they looked like.

The chair scraped again. “No, it was stupid…I mean why would you…I’ll go.”

Clearly hearing the embarrassment in her voice, Spike held his hand out. “Hey, no stay.” He let his hand rest on the table. “I mean…you know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Spike gave a self-conscious laugh. “How lame did that sound?”

The girl chuckled softly. “You’ll be saying what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this, next.”

“So you are…?”

“Buffy…Buffy Summers.”

Spike laughed out loud. He couldn’t help it.

“What?”

“That’s a porn star’s name.”

“And Spike’s a dog’s name.”

They both collapsed in fits of laughter.

“Least I know your name now,” said Buffy, as she struggled to control her mirth, regretting the tequila she’d fortified herself with as she struggled to decide which of the two Spikes in front of her was the real one. “I’ve been calling you coffee shop guy for the last few weeks.”

“Why would you call me that?” Spike frowned.

“When we first saw each other. You were in the coffee shop and then our eyes met…”

She doesn’t know!

“…and I have to say the way you looked at me, licking your fingers…well…” Buffy coughed, aware she was beginning to embarrass herself, and by the look of his face, Spike too.

His heart hammered in his chest.

She thinks I was coming on to her.

“Um…yeah…donuts are sticky little buggers.” He smiled lopsidedly.

“Sure they are,” said Buffy, her tone dry.

Spike turned his face towards the stage again, recognising the second to last song.

“Um…So you came backstage…?” He returned his attention to her.

Buffy’s face flushed crimson. “Because my friend says I’m turning into a crazy stalker woman and…” She covered her hands with her face. “Oh, God. Don’t look at me! You obviously think I’m deranged, but I had a tequila for fortification and…”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh, even though he knew she’d likely scamper off when she realised he was blind. “Maybe several tequilas?”

“Buffy!”

Spike started at the shriek, knocking his knee against the table leg, cursing low under his breath.

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you snuck back here!”

“Willow!” Buffy grinned at Spike. “This is my friend, Willow. She sounds like a tree.”

“And you’re really pissed.” It made sense to Spike now. A girl had to be wasted not to notice he couldn’t see a bloody thing.

“What?” Buffy’s voice rose an octave. “I am so not mad! I’m having a great time!”

“Huh?” Spike leaned back in his seat. “I didn’t… Oh! I meant you’re wasted…er…drunk…shite…I mean, you’re maybe a bit tipsy?”

“Buffy! We’ve got to go!”

Willow tugged frantically at her friend’s arm.

“Why?” Buffy tried to shrug her off. “I’m talking with coffee sh…Spike!”

“Yeah,” muttered Willow, “and you’re so gonna regret it in the morning.”

She glanced up at the stage, seeing the band taking a bow and beginning to walk to the side of the stage. No way was she going to meet Oz for the first time with a drunken Buffy in attendance.

“Come on!” She smiled at the bewildered looking Spike. “Nice meeting you.” Before dragging a grumbling Buffy away.

“Hey, man. Who were they?”

“Um…couple of girls.”

“I can see that!” Oz slapped Spike’s shoulder. “I mean who were they? The red-head’s cute.”

Oz’s casual observation of the colour of one of the girl’s hair was like a bucket of cold water being thrown over Spike. Such mundane things…things he’d never know without asking or being told. Not wanting to recount the tale of how Buffy had approached him because she thought he’d flirted with her, Spike just shrugged.

“Think they were just looking for the loo.”

“Loo!” Devon began to snicker. “Sometimes you’re so English!”

“’S not my fault you lot buggered the language up.” Spike’s smile returned though not at the same wattage he’d had with Buffy as the band’s gentle banter lightened his grim thoughts.



Chapter End Notes:
Please take a moment to comment :D



You must login (register) to review.