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Betad by dawnofme and seapealsh. Banner by dawnofme


“Oh Willow, this is hopeless! I’m never going to get to meet him again.”

“Sure you will. It’s only been a couple of weeks since you saw him last,” Willow said, trying to placate her friend.

“Three – it’s been three weeks – nearly a month. Are you sure that Oz won’t sort of fix up a double date?” Buffy’s eyes lit up with hope.

“I’m sorry, but I told you before, Oz just isn’t comfortable doing that sort of thing. He’s all like…if it’s meant to be, it will happen.”

“But when? You’re all loved up and the guy I want thinks I’m a lush!”

“You’re being a bit over dramatic, Buffy.”

Buffy threw herself down on her bed in what had to be deemed a very dramatic manner. “No, I’m not!”

A raised eyebrow from Willow was all that it took to make Buffy sigh and sag with defeat. “Okay. Okay! I know I am, but I can’t help it. Did Oz at least tell you why Spike hasn’t been to a Dingoes show since then?”

“I’ve told you all that I know.” Willow’s voice began to have an edge to it. “Oz just said he had to deal with some personal stuff.”

“He’s married! Married with like five kids!”

“Buffy, shut up!”

Willow so rarely yelled that Buffy’s eyes flew open, as did her mouth, but she fell silent.

“I’m sorry, but you’re driving me crazy. I’m sure if Spike was married or in a relationship of any kind that Oz would have told me. Just wait until you see Spike at the club and then go and introduce yourself to him properly.”

“Okay.”

Eyes narrowing, Willow stared at Buffy. “Really?”

“Yes. Really. I mean…it’s not like I’m going to sit outside his house and wait for him to come out or anything.”

“Buffy…”

“I’m joking, Will! Honestly, what do you take me for?”

Grinning, Willow said, “Do you really want me to answer that? But don’t do anything you might regret. You’ve already done that once!”

“Hey! You said I wasn’t that bad!” Buffy sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“I lied.”

Laughing, Willow ran out of her bedroom and into the tiny living room of the apartment the girls shared.

“Rosenberg! I’ll get you for that!”

Willow’s reply was just to laugh even harder.

Buffy closed her eyes and thought of the last time she’d seen Spike. A soft smile formed on her lips as she ran a hand down over her stomach to the waistband of her pants.

“Buffy! Come on! We’re going to be late!”

Moaning with frustration, Buffy reluctantly pushed the image of Spike’s hand doing what her’s had just been about to do out of her mind, climbed off the bed, grabbed her jacket and went to find Willow.

*~*~*~*

“Rupert! Tell her she can’t come!” Spike’s voice held a note of desperation, as he once again ducked the hand that stroked his hair. “Mum! Gerrof me!”

“Oh, sweetie, I know you’re upset. That’s why you need your mother with you.”

“Dru…darling,” Rupert said softly. “He’s a grown man. Leave him be.”

“But, I can’t jus—”

“Yes, you can.” Rupert put his arms around his wife’s thin shoulders and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d always been so difficult. He dropped a kiss on her neck, knowing that giving her attention always worked as a distraction. “He needs to go there alone, darling. And I need you with me. He’ll be fine.”

Spike would have mouthed ‘thank you’ to Rupert had he been able to catch his eye and know his mother wasn’t looking at him, as it was he merely stood still, waiting to find out what would happen next.

“You need me?” Drusilla’s voice adopted a tone that made Spike flush and dip his head. It was likely that once he’d gone, ole Rupert would be getting a bit of action.

“I’ll always need you,” Rupert said automatically, wondering if it were quite true.

The buzz of the doorbell interrupted them and Spike said tentatively, “Well…I’ll be off then…”

Before his wife could say a word, Rupert said, “Okay. You have your phone with you?” Spike nodded. “If you need anything – just call.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“Sweetie! Be careful!” Dru slipped out of Rupert’s arms and enveloped Spike in a hug that almost knocked him over.

“Jeez, Mum. ’M going the doctor’s office, not the bloody North Pole.”

“I know! But, William, I can’t help worrying, can I?”

“You’d better go, Spike, before the cab goes away.” Rupert took one of Dru’s hands in his.

“I do wish you’d call him William,” protested his mother as, with cane tapping lightly, Spike walked to the front door.

“He likes to be called Spike, darling.”

“I know, but—”

Rupert did the only thing guaranteed to shut his wife up. He kissed her.

Shuddering at the parental smooching he could hear, Spike opened the front door with relief.

“Hi, Xander.”

“Hey, Spike. How you doing?” Xander guided Spike to the rear seat of the cab.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

The first time that they’d met, Spike had been heartened by the man’s matter-of-fact reaction to his lack of sight and now, whenever he needed a cab, if Xander was working, Spike requested him.

“How’s the hand?”

“Doing good.” Spike stroked the thick bandages covering his left hand from wrist to fingertips. “’M hoping Dr. Fawley will give me the all clear.”

He’d knocked into a small table that his mother had forgotten to put back in place after holding one of her many charity committee meetings. Unfortunately for Spike, as he fell, his left hand broke a wine glass and he’d sustained a deep wound to the flesh of his palm, running from the base of his thumb almost to his little finger. The fall had shaken his confidence badly, and naturally left handed, Spike felt awkward using the cane in his right and so had remained at home since the injury. Despite this a part of him admitted that his reluctance to go out with Oz to a Dingoes gig stemmed from his fear of meeting Buffy Summers again.

Xander parked directly outside the doctor’s office and jogged round the cab to open the door for Spike.

“Want me to walk in with you?”

Spike nodded gratefully. “Yeah, thanks.” His right hand reached out for Xander’s elbow and they went inside.

“I’ll be right outside when you’re done, okay?”

“Thanks, Xan.”

It wasn’t long before the doctor had examined Spike’s hand and declared the wound fully healed, and that good physical therapy for it would be for Spike to resume playing the guitar.

Xander spotted Spike as he pushed the front door to the doctor’s office open and was at his side in an instant, helping him back to the cab.

“Home, then?” he asked as he slipped behind the steering wheel.

Unable to face going back to the house just yet, and feeling stir-crazy from his self-imposed imprisonment there, Spike shook his head. “I don’t suppose you could drop me at the park and pick me up a bit later?”

“I’ve got a couple of jobs to do, but I could be back for you in about ninety minutes – or I could get one of the other guys to collect you?”

“No…I’ll wait for you. Just need to be out of the house for a while.”

Xander bit his tongue to keep from saying something inappropriate; he’d met Spike’s mother a couple of times and could see why Spike needed time out. “If you’re staying that long then you need snacks! Beer and snacks. Want me to get some?”

Spike chuckled. Xander always seemed to be eating. He wondered what the man really looked like. In his mind, he pictured Xander as bowling ball round, but knew he was taller than himself and the elbow he gripped wasn’t lost in layers of fat.

Xander guided Spike to a shady spot and handed him the beers and snacks.

“See you later, Xan,” said Spike, inclining the neck of the beer bottle towards him. “Thanks for getting these.”

“You paid for them – not me. I’ll be back in about ninety, okay? You get bored before then – just call Jesse in the office and he’ll send someone.”

“Okay.”

After Xander left, Spike took a deep pull on the beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, before digging his cell phone out of his pocket and letting Rupert know what time he’d be back. He hadn’t known whether to cringe or grin when it went straight to voicemail.

Munching on the assorted snacks and washing them down with the beer, Spike allowed his eyes to close and let his memories of the park flood into his mind. He’d often hung out here when he’d been staying with his mother and Rupert for the holidays. Like now, back then he’d sometimes needed to get away from the house. Somewhere on the trunk that he was leaning on were three letters he’d carved into the bark. S L F. Stiff Little Fingers. The band that he’d been going to see when he’d had the accident.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to listen to what had been his favourite band again. So far, each time he’d tried it provoked the images and pain of the crash, and since he visited those places in his dreams most nights, he didn’t need to suffer them at other times too.

Stop it!

Spike chided himself. The daily struggle with self-pity had been harder of late. He knew it was his own fault – he should have gone out with Oz even if all he could do was sit backstage – but the fear of falling over in public kept him at home. He pulled out his phone again and pressed speed dial 2.

“Hey, Oz. So when are you playing next?”

“Spike! How’s the hand? We’re playing on Saturday. Going to come?”

“Yeah. Need to get out.”

They chatted for a few minutes more before hanging up. Decision made, Spike felt more relaxed than he had since he’d injured his hand.

*~*~*~*

Buffy walked briskly through the park and tried not to stomp in temper like a two year old, but she wasn’t sure she managed it completely.

“I’m so dumb!” she muttered under her breath.

She’d just left Willow. They had planned on spending the afternoon at the movies, only Buffy had pre-booked the tickets online and then forgotten to bring the credit card she’d paid with. So no tickets and since it was sold out, no chance of watching the movie either. In the end, feeling guilty at messing up their planned afternoon, Buffy had suggested that Willow call Oz to see if he was working or not. He wasn’t and so now Buffy was walking home alone, and Willow was no doubt wrapped in her boyfriend’s arms already.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something. Glancing over, she tripped on the edge of the path and fell down with a thud and the whooshing of air being knocked out of her lungs.

“Ow! Crap!”

Buffy’s eyes watered as she gasped for breath and pushed herself to her knees. She groaned when she noticed a rip across the knee of her jeans, but forgot the dismay at ruining her favourite pair when she got a good look at what she’d been staring at as she fell.

Spike.

Spike sitting beneath a tree.

Spike sitting beneath a tree – alone.

Now’s my chance! Go for it!

Buffy staggered to her feet, brushed herself down, and dragged her fingers through her hair in a vain attempt to tidy it, silently praying that he wouldn’t open his eyes until she was ready.

Hello, Spike. I don’t know if you remember me…I’m Buffy, we met when…

“When I was so wasted I couldn’t see straight! Can’t remind him of that night,” she muttered with a shudder.

Hi…it’s Spike, isn’t it?

“Lame!”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Hi, Spike. Do you mind if I sit down?

“That will do!”

Her eyes opened and she painted on what she hoped was her prettiest smile and glanced a little nervously towards the object of her desire… then slumped with defeat. As she watched, a brown haired man sat down on the grass next to Spike, whose eyes opened and face split into a grin that made Buffy’s insides turn over.

There was no way that she had the nerve to go over to him when he had a friend with him, so she turned on her heels and hurried away, cursing for hesitating when she had the chance.

*~*~*~*

“Hey, Spike. I’m back!” Xander flopped down on the grass beside him. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Spike opened his eyes and grinned lazily. “Nah, just thinking.”

“If you say so.”

“I was!”

“What were you thinking of then?”

All Spike knew about Buffy Summers was that she was blonde and had a voice that sent tingles up and down his spine…and other places. Since Oz had teasingly said she was overweight, the image that Spike had built up of her was like that of a Page Three girl in the English newspaper The Sun – all huge tits and dimpled cheeks. And it was that image that Spike had been daydreaming about.

“Uh… wondering what songs the Dingoes will be playing on Saturday.”

“Sure you were.”

“So…are you finished for the day after you take me home?” Spike thought a change of subject was in order.

“Yeah…you’re my last one.”

“I reckon we’d better go then. Don’t want to hold you up.”

“Okay. I’ll grab your trash.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Spike’s fingers wrapped around the cane that he’d placed next to his thigh before he stood up and stretched.

“Anytime.” Xander moved so that Spike could take hold of his arm and then strolled the hundred yards or so to where he’d parked the cab.

Once back at home, Spike paid the fare and thanked Xander for his help. A flick of Spike’s wrist shook the cane to full length, and he carefully made his way to the front door. He went straight to his room and laid on his bed, wishing he had the nerve to ask Oz to find out Buffy’s phone number. Before the accident, he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second, but now…?

He just didn’t have the courage to do it.


TBC


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