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Betad by dawnofme and seapealsh.
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Chapter Nine

The urge to flee from such venom only just got overpowered by the anger his words generated in her.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?"

"Who let you in? What lie did you tell them so they'd let you?"

Spike's left hand skittered across the grass, trying to find the cane, but in his surprise he'd shifted to the side and it was now out of his reach. Buffy hesitated for a moment before stepping closer so she could reach down to get the cane for him.

"It's here," she said, waggling it a little, then rolled her eyes at her stupidity and brushed the tips of his fingers with it.

Snatching it out of her hand, Spike all but growled at her. "I don't want your sodding help! I would have found it." He leapt to his feet, flicked out the cane and took a step forward, freezing at the crunch of his iPod beneath his boot. "Oh, bollocks. Look what you've made me do!"

"Hey! I didn't make you do it. It's your fault that you got up in a snit and was going to storm off."

"A snit? A snit? I'm not in a snit!"

"No, sure you're not," Buffy muttered loud enough for him to hear.

"You're fucking stalking me. That'd be enough to put anybody in a snit."

"Ha! So you admit it!"

"I'm English, so no I'm not admitting to being in a bloody snit…a strop maybe?" Spike took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?" His voice now sounded weary, not angry.

"I…I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour last night, but after listening to you just now, I figure we're even. So I'll go."

Squeezing his eyes shut in that stupid gesture he just couldn't get out of the habit of doing, Spike listened to her walk away. The awful feeling of loneliness that had plagued him since his old friends slowly stopped calling suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Stay."

He said it quiet enough so that if she didn't reply he could convince himself that she simply hadn't heard. She paused, but made him wait agonising seconds before she spoke.

"Okay."

She turned back to see Spike prodding at the grass with his cane.

"Uh…what are you doing?"

Running a hand over his bare chest, he said, "There should be a t-shirt around here somewhere."

Pink stained his cheeks and Buffy could understand how frustrating it must be for him, but in light of his earlier reaction, she didn't pick it up.

"If you take a step to the right your cane will reach it."

"Thanks." The blush deepened and his lips set in a thin line as he felt for the neck. His fingers sought out the label, so he'd know which was the back and which the front.

"Don't put it on, on my account," Buffy said with a grin.

"'M cold." His face now scarlet, he put the cane between his knees and pulled the t-shirt over his head, smoothing it down once he got his arms through the sleeves.

Buffy could think of a hundred ways of how she could warm him up, but wisely stayed silent.

Just when she thought they would stand there all day, Spike spoke.

"I suppose the iPod's dead?"

Casting a glance at the remains, Buffy nodded, then hastily blurted, "As a dodo. Sorry."

"Yeah, well, there were a lot of songs on it that I couldn't bear …uh…didn't like any more. Suppose it saves me from deleting them." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Bit of a dramatic way to do it though."

He chuckled and Buffy grinned with delight.

Another uncomfortable silence followed. Again, Spike's voice broke it.

"Would…would you like a drink?"

"That would be great." Buffy winced at her too bright voice.

"On second thought..." Spike dipped his head. "I really don't think you need to meet my mum. Unless…was it her who let you in?" He turned his face towards her, and she could have wept at the knowledge that those clear blue eyes could see nothing.

"No, it was your step-father."

"That figures."

"Would you rather I didn't stay? I just wanted to apologise for scaring you—"

The eyes might not be able to see, but they could show emotion all right. They darkened as he stiffened.

"You didn't bloody scare me."

Realising her mistake, Buffy frantically tried to back-pedal. "I didn't mean scare…I meant…it was late and—"

"Buffy!"

"What?"

"Can we just start over?"

"Oh, yes! God, yes! Then I won't need to be embarrassed about being so drunk that first night."

"Why were you embarrassed? You weren't so bad."

It was good to see Spike's slight smile. "Oh please! I just thank the stars that Willow extracted me before I could do anything even more embarrassing."

"What? Like follow someone home?"

"Hey, you said we'd start over."

Spike's smile broadened. "So I did." He held his hand out. "I'm Spike, pleased to meet you."

Giggling, Buffy shook it. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm Buffy."

"Where's the house in relation to us?"

Buffy glanced over her shoulder. "It's behind me, so to your right as you are now."

"Okay." Spike pointed to the left. "There should be a bench over there. Shall we go sit on it?"

"I'd like that."

As they made their way to the seat, Spike prayed that he wouldn't trip.

"We need to go a little to the right," Buffy said, hoping he wouldn't mind the guidance, but unsure what else she could do if they were to find the seat.

His clenched jaw told her that yet another raw nerve had been touched. She knew that she had to tread carefully not to upset him again.

Spike relaxed as his cane struck the bench's legs. Taking another step, he reached out for the arm, before he turned around and lowered himself onto it. He retracted the cane and was just wondering what to do with it when Buffy sat next to him, her knee brushing his. He snapped his legs together like a virgin on a first date and put his hands in his lap, glad that the t-shirt was long enough to cover his groin.

That brief casual contact had his body reminding him that it had needs. The fact that he'd used fantasies of the very woman beside him for his pleasure over the past few weeks didn't help his cause.

Startled by his reaction, Buffy widened the gap between them.

Wondering if it was possible to feel any more awkward, Spike said, "So, Buffy Summers, what do you do?"

She chuckled.

"What?" He turned towards her. "What's funny?"

"Just when you say it like that, it sounds…well it sounds…"

I am not going to say it. I am not going to say it… "Porny?" Spike faced front quickly.

"Yeah! I never thought of it like that until you said it at the Bronze. Dunno whether it's your accent, but you make it sound…filthy."

"Filthy Gorgeous," Spike mumbled, as his dick gave him another little reminder that it was up to something.

Forgetting the apparent no contact rule, Buffy rested a hand on his arm as she leaned closer. "Do you mean the song by the Scissor Sisters?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." Her hand left his arm. "I would never have thought you'd like them."

"Hey! I never said I did. Just know the song, that's all. Was all over my favourite radio station back home."

"Do you miss it?" Buffy said, adding, "England, I mean."

He nodded, swallowing hard at the memories England evoked. His father. Graduating university. His mates. The bands he saw in concert. The crash. The pain. The weeks of hope. The weeks of despair. The knowledge that he was now as powerless as a toddler over the decisions in his life… The list was endless.

Buffy stared at him in dismay as she watched the emotions pass over his face. Such an innocuous statement, but it obviously brought up lots of memories.

She'd just opened her mouth to speak when he said, "I miss some things…other things – like say the weather – not so much."

"Is it really as bad as that?"

"It can be." Spike smiled. I've got Buffy – the porn star – Summers next to me and I'm talking about the weather!

He could almost see his old self shaking his head at such a thing. But the weather was safe. The weather kept him from thinking of what he ached to do. He clenched his hands into fists to suppress the urge to find out just how large her breasts really were.

"Huh? What? Sorry, didn't catch that." Heat rose at the base of his neck, knowing where his attention had been.

"I was just saying I'm a California girl through and through. I hate the cold."

"English weather can be lovely. Just bit unpredictable, is all." Spike couldn't allow too negative an outlook on his homeland.

"If I go, I'll remember to take a raincoat."

"You never told me what you do?" Spike wished fervently that he could see the woman whose light floral perfume he knew he would never forget.

"Oh…nothing very interesting. I wish I could tell you I was a rocket scientist or something, but my friend Willow and I own a small shop."

"Really? What do you sell?"

Her hand touched his knee, sending sparks through him. He tensed and bit back a moan. At this rate I'll come in my pants like a sodding kid!

Mistaking his reaction, Buffy sighed and pulled her hand away. "Promise me that you won't laugh?"

"Okay…I promise."

"We sell comics."

Spike's lip twitched.

"Hey! It's a growth business. New graphic novels and vintage copies of comics like Spiderman. We're doing all right."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"It's an art form! Not everyone wants to read the classics!"

Spike closed his eyes, as bitterness began to rise within him yet again.

"I studied the classics." His voice so low she could barely hear it and so full of despair that tears formed in Buffy's eyes. "God, what I wouldn't give to be able to read one again, even though by the time I got my degree, I was sick to death of the bloody things."

"Oh, Spike." She covered his hand with hers. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what it's like."

He turned his face towards her. "Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

They sat in silence for quite a while.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"The house is amazing. How long have you lived here? Your accent is so strong still." Buffy cringed at her awkward change of subject, but she just didn't know what to say about his blindness without running the risk of upsetting him again,

"Uh…Mum moved here with Rupert years ago. I just spent summer holidays here, well I did, until my dad died, then I stopped coming. Hadn't been here for years until now."

She squeezed the hand she was still holding. "I'm glad you came to stay."

Snatching his hand away, Spike stood up. "Had nowhere else to go, did I?" He walked a few steps before halting. "Why me?"

Frowning as she got to her feet, Buffy said, "Who knows why things like this happen, Spike."

"No. I meant why are you interested in me?"

He asked the question she'd been dreading.

"Why shouldn't I be?" she said glibly. "I saw you and thought I'd like to get to know you."

"But you didn't know, did you? Not until last night?"

Buffy walked around him so that she could look into his face when she spoke. "I thought we weren't going to mention last night again. But no, I didn't."

Spike shook his head. "So you're here 'cause you felt sorry for me."

Sighing dramatically, Buffy stepped closer. "No. I came because I couldn't go another day without doing this." She put her hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

Whatever reaction she'd been hoping for, it wasn't being shoved away so hard that she almost fell.

"Jeez, Spike!"

"'M sorry." Spike backed up. "I – I can't do this…it's…" Shaking his head, he rubbed both hands over his face.

Buffy looked at him. Her anger at being pushed was tempered by the fear so clearly shown by Spike. From the little glimpses of his true character that he'd shown, she guessed he'd been confident and probably a bit cocky – you'd have to be to bleach your hair like that – before the injury, and now here he was unsure of everything. To make matters worse, she'd forced herself on him when she didn't even know if he liked her at all.

"No. It's me who should be saying sorry. That was stupid. You don't even know me." She glanced over her shoulder to where she could see her car on the driveway. "I'd better go."

"I'd like to."

She scowled. "Like me to go?"

"No." He reached out with his left hand. "I'd like to get to know you."

With a grin, she put her hand in his. "Really?"

"Well, I figure if a bird goes to all this trouble to meet me, least I can do is get to know her a bit."

His smile was so heartbreakingly uncertain that Buffy's breath hitched. Feeling like someone in a cheesy movie, she raised their linked hands to her cheek and then let go of his. He tensed, but relaxed again as she put her hand on his cheek, stroking his skin with her thumb.

"Um… some people have been known to say my nose is too pert to be natural. But I promise you, I've had no surgery."

Spike laughed. "That right?" He tentatively moved his hand to her nose. "No surgeon would leave that bump in it."

"Bump? There is no bump!"

They grinned, both a touch embarrassed by what they were doing. She closed her eyes as his fingers ghosted over them, letting her hand fall away from his face.

"What colour are your eyes? I know you're blonde and …er…short."

"Hey! Petite, okay?"

"Okay."

"My eyes are hazel – bit greenish in a certain light."

His hand went to her hair, snagging on a couple of tangles.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry." He pulled his hand back as if scalded.

"It's okay." Grabbing the retreating hand with hers, she placed it on her waist.

"You're not fat." The words were out before he realised it.

"No I am not! Why would you think I was overweight? Oh my God, do I sound heavy? I know I can be clumsy, but—"

Spike began to laugh. Really laugh. Through his wheezes he managed to gasp, "I'll kill Oz."

"Oz said I'm fat? If I see him first you won't be able to kill him, because I will have!"

He put his right hand on the other side of her waist. "Don't. He was just teasing me, that's all. I asked him what you looked like, and he said you were a bit plump."

"I still think it's earned him a slap!"

"He was just proving a point that looks don't matter, especially for me now."

Buffy took a sharp intake of breath. "That's harsh."

"It's true though, isn't it?" Spike smiled lopsidedly. "Before…I was…well, let's say I was a bit shallow."

"So what was your ideal girl like?"

Having felt her slim waist, he knew the real Buffy wasn't physically like his fantasy porn star Buffy, but still couldn't resist it.

Grinning, he said, "A big pair of tits usually did the trick."

He'd expected a yell of indignation – hell, maybe even that slap she'd said she was going to give Oz – but Buffy Summers surprised him yet again. She snatched his hands from her waist and planted them firmly on her breasts.

"Sorry to disappoint." To his relief, her voice was laced with humour.

Gently moving his hands over them, he said, "Nah…any more than a handful's a waste."

He got the slap for that.

TBC


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