It wasn’t until Spike lay alone in his bed hours later, that he allowed himself to think of Buffy Summers. It was as if his body had awakened to the fact that he was a healthy young man along with all the desires that goes with it.
With a groan, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body ached with the need to be touched intimately. He’d been no angel in the past, that’s for sure. He’d done his share of picking up one-night stands – probably more than his fair share after his dad had died. But he’d been young and like his mates, he’d thought he had plenty of time. Now he felt as if the time had run out.
The girl of his dreams had always been vibrant – matching his energy and sense of adventure. Their holidays would be spent scuba diving, white water rafting, skiing – now he couldn’t find his way down a high street unaided. Even blurred or tunnel vision would have meant a little independence would be possible, but his new world had no chinks of light in it at all. A white cane could do nothing more than stop him tripping up over something.
“Oh, get a grip, Spike.”
He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t allow himself to go down the self pity route; not again. With a sigh he stood up, walked to the small ensuite bathroom that had been added in what had been a large closet in the corner of his room and turned the shower on. Pulling off boxers that he only wore because of his mother’s tendency to barge in the bedroom without knocking, he stepped under the water and leaned back against the tile.
His left hand found his erection and, feeling like a sodding teenager, he began to stroke himself. He tried to imagine what the girl looked like. Summers made him think of the rare, perfect sunny day that England’s weather bestowed on its subjects every now and then. But Buffy…he grinned and increased his grip. Like he’d said to her – that was pure porn. He used it like porn, imagining her voluptuous body. Climax when reached, brought release, but also sadness. Would the sort of girl who fell for a blind man hold his interest? Would he end up being partnered only by someone who took pity on him? Would he end up alone?
Back in bed a few minutes later, he pushed thoughts of the girl away. His life was difficult enough without putting his emotions out there to be stomped on too. Though he was finding it incredibly hard to deal with his situation, Spike knew that if he was in that position again – even knowing the consequences – he’d do the same again.
That boy was alive because of him and that had to mean something, didn’t it?
*~*~*~*
A week later, the Dingoes were playing at the Bronze again. The other guitarist, Eddie, was sick, so Spike had been asked if he’d replace him for the night, and to Spike’s surprise he found himself agreeing. Oz had dug out his old acoustic guitar so Spike didn’t have to try to adapt to electric. At the sound check, the guys as usual made sure that nothing would be in Spike’s way either backstage or on it.
When Oz pushed a shot glass of JD into his hand, just before they were due to go on, Spike knocked it back in one swallow and smiled as he thought of Buffy’s Dutch courage in the form of tequila. The more he tried to keep her out of his thoughts, the more he failed. He wondered what she looked like. Was she the cute red head that Oz had mentioned?
On stage, he kept his eyes lowered, not wanting to stare ahead as he had in the coffee shop, knowing how that had been misconstrued. It felt good to be on stage with the band, and he’d even been coerced into singing the backing vocals like Eddie did. He wondered if Buffy Summers was in the crowd.
Huh, so much for not thinking about her.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and concentrated only on the music.
*~*~*~*
Buffy hadn’t been able to believe her luck when she’d seen coffee shop guy… Spike – his name is Spike... walk on stage with the band. Now she could safely ogle him from a distance without embarrassing herself. She could feel her neck heat up as she thought of what she’d done the previous week. A glance at Willow, who grinned at her, showed that her friend was thinking the same thing.
With a sigh she settled back in her seat and stared at Spike, hoping to catch his eye. Unfortunately, he seemed obsessed with looking at his boots and Buffy blushed again.
Oh, God! What if he’s afraid he’ll see me in the audience?
She reached out for her drink and took several deep gulps of it.
Tequila! Why the hell did I drink so much?
She drank more of her iced water, and shuddered at the memory.
“Hey, Buffy,” Willow said, leaning close.
“What?”
“Do you think the other guitarist is looking at me?”
“I don’t know…” Buffy watched him for a few moments and then glanced around them. “He is definitely checking you out…either that or he’s gay and staring at the guy behind us.”
Willow grinned and straightened her blouse. “Cool.”
At the end of the concert, Buffy got up and headed for the exit.
“Hey, let’s see if we can get backstage again,” Willow said, grabbing her arm.
“You go, Will. I’m beat. I think I’ll just go home.”
Opening her mouth to speak, Willow shut it again when she saw her friend’s face. In that instant, she realised that Buffy had more than a crush on the coffee shop guy. She really liked him.
“What about getting home?”
“I’ll get a cab. Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you tell me all about it tomorrow.”
“I will.”
The girls hugged before going their separate ways.
*~*~*~*
The band members were all sitting around the table enjoying a post-gig drink when one of the barmen approached.
“Hey, guys. There’s a few people wanting to come to meet you, is that okay?”
Feeling Spike tense beside him, Oz rested a hand on his shoulder and asked quietly, “If you’d rather they didn’t, just say so.”
Grateful that Oz had given him an out, Spike nonetheless didn’t take it. There was no way that he could begrudge the band their fans.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll just stay here.”
In the end, all four of them stayed seated at the table as the half dozen or so fans came to say hi. When asked for his autograph, Spike politely declined saying that he was only filling in. He fiddled with the strap of his watch and kept his head down, letting their words wash over him, as he listened for one voice in particular.
He didn’t hear it, but he heard the next best thing. The voice of her friend. Spike kicked himself mentally for not confiding in Oz about what Buffy Summers had said to him, because now Oz wouldn’t ask the right questions of her friend. He wouldn’t ask what the colour of her hair was. He wouldn’t ask where she was tonight. He wouldn’t …
“Hey! We nearly met last week,” said Oz, when Willow nervously said hi and made some inane remark about the gig. “But you hustled your blonde friend away before we got the chance to speak.”
Blonde. Spike allowed himself a small smile. Oz had focussed on the red-head. He hadn’t liked the idea of trying to compete with Oz for the same girl.
“Uh…yeah…we were running late. I’m Willow.”
“Like a tree,” murmured Spike, smiling more broadly now.
“What?” Oz nudged him.
“Nothing.” .
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got time tonight,” Oz said, his focus returning to Willow.
“Me too.”
They smiled stupidly at each other, before Oz spoke again.
“So…are you alone? Where’s your friend tonight?”
Spike tilted his head a little and held his breath as he waited for the reply
“She was here earlier.” Willow glanced at Spike. “She really likes the band, but she couldn’t stay late tonight.” She reached out and touched Spike’s hand, snatching it back as he started. “Uh…I think she’s a bit embarrassed about last week.”
“Tell her…” Spike cleared his throat and kept his face down turned. “Um…tell her she shouldn’t be embarrassed, okay? I enjoyed meeting her.”
Spike could practically feel the grin on Oz’s face and could certainly detect it in his voice.
“Yeah…he’s been talking about her all week.”
Snapping his head up, Spike said, “I bloody well did not!”
“Oops. Think I’m gonna be in trouble.” Oz looked at Willow. “So how about I buy you a drink before the bar closes? You’ll be doing me a favour, ‘cause I think I’m going to be chewed out if I stay here much longer.”
Willow chuckled. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll give you a ride home, Spike. If you don’t want to wait for Oz,” said Brad, the drummer.
“Thanks, that’d be great.”
Spike hoped his voice sounded normal as totally unreasonable jealousy tore through him. Oz got to go for a drink with a cute girl, and he got to get taken home like a little kid.
Oz rested a hand on Spike’s shoulder. “See you later, man.”
Throat constricted with emotion, Spike just nodded. A few minutes later he sat in Brad’s sports car, his hands on his knees as he resisted the urge to scream out in frustration. So far, everything seemed to emphasise what he couldn’t do – not what he could.
He thanked Brad for the ride, flicked out his cane with unnecessary force and walked as quickly as he could to the front door. His impatient fingers fumbled on the surface of the door trying to find the keyhole.
“Fuck it!”
Finally finding it, he put the key in, turned it and slammed the door closed when he got inside. He got to his room and sat on the bed with his head in his hands. Suddenly he turned to the side and punched his pillow as hard as he could.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until he was panting and out of breath.
“Oh, shite.”
He took a deep breath and tried to calm down as he got undressed and showered, before slipping between the cool cotton sheets. All he could think about was how Oz would tell Willow and how she’d tell her friend that Spike was blind and he’d never get to even talk to her again, let alone live out any of his little fantasies about them dating. But fantasies were just that. Dreams that you never really expected to come true. Especially as all the fantasies he’d had with the voluptuous Buffy Summers involved being able to see.
*~*~*~*
After a restless and nightmare-filled night, Spike made himself wait until ten o’clock before he cracked and called Oz.
“Not interrupting anything, am I?” Spike forced his voice to sound light.
Oz chuckled. “No, man. What do you think I am? We just talked over a couple of beers.”
“And…?”
“And I’m seeing her tomorrow. Dinner and a movie.”
A movie… Spike gritted his teeth. “That’s great. I still haven’t forgiven you about what you said, though.”
“Um…yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You really sound it.” Spike couldn’t help but smile.
“Yeah, well… I saw your face when Willow mentioned her friend, so don’t tell me you don’t like her.”
Smile fading, Spike said, “Got enough to deal with – don’t need to add women into the equation.”
Spike let Oz talk about how nice Willow was, and he knew that the attraction was strong, because he’d never before heard Oz talk for so long on the telephone.
“So, I suppose you told her,” Spike said.
“Told her what?”
“That I’m blind.”
“No, I haven’t. Why would I?”
Oz’s tone was so incredulous that Spike immediately felt stupid for saying it.
“I just thought—”
“Thought what? That I’m getting to know a girl and I just come out with ‘oh by the way my buddy can’t see?’ Jeez!”
Spike’s fingers tightened around the handset as Oz continued.
“It’s not all about you, Spike.”
“I know…look, I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“No, I’m sorry.” Oz’s voice returned to normal. “It was selfish just to go off like that. Leaving you to have to catch a ride with someone else.”
“Shite, Oz. It’s me who should be sorry. You’re not my babysitter, it’s just…”
“It’s just you like her and it scares you.”
“Yeah. It’s really weird meeting new people ‘cause I don’t know what they look like. I just get this image of them in my head and it could be totally wrong.”
“Were you just all about the looks, before?”
Spike let out a snort. “Pretty much. Mind you, as long as they had big tits and were accommodating, I could forgive them being a bit plain.”
“Oh, please tell me that you’re joking?”
“Course I am.” Spike crossed his fingers. He had exaggerated, but not by much.
“It’s a cliché, Spike, but it’s what’s underneath that’s important.”
“Yeah, yeah. So you saw her last week. What’s she look like? ‘Cause when I close my eyes, all I can see is skin flick posters featuring the luscious Buffy S.”
Spike had to wait for a reply whilst Oz got his laughter under control.
“Damn, no wonder you’re all bent out of shape if you’re thinking about that all the time.”
“Still not answering my question.”
“Looks aren’t important, and not meaning to be harsh, but they really aren’t to you anymore—”
“Git.”
“I know. But seriously…what’s it matter if she’s…er…a bit overweight?”
“You’re taking the piss.”
“Am I?” Oz laughed softly.
“You’re not sodding helping!”
Spike couldn’t help but laugh remembering the film he’d seen several years ago, Shallow Hal, where the main character was under a spell to see only the inner beauty and so fell in love with Gwyneth Paltrow in a fat suit.
“Sure I am…I’ve got you laughing, haven’t I?”
“Good point. You’re still a git, though.”
“I can live with that.”
TBC
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Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme. Banner by dawnofme
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