Chapter Four
“Guess what Buffster? It’s time for a new car,” Xander said cheerfully to a perplexed Buffy later.
Buffy was not taking kindly to his chipper tone and scowled at him and then at her now dead, beloved, white Chevy.
After Faith had eaten her fill of burgers she’d asked Buffy if she had ice cream for dessert. Having been completely out, the idea caught fire and everyone decided to go out as a group to get it.
Buffy had offered to drive Anya, Spike and Faith only to find her car dead.
Spike lifted the hood and started poking around, telling Buffy to get in and try starting it. Only nothing worked.
He’d shut the hood and proclaimed it gone.
“That’s just great,” Buffy muttered irritably. “I don’t know anything about getting a new car. I never know what to ask, what to do. . . “ She sighed, frustrated and glared at her car. She’d had the thing longer than she’d been married to Doyle for crying out loud.
“We’ll go next weekend—“ Anya started to offer but Buffy cut her off with a snap.
“I don’t want to wait until next weekend. I’ll take the bus into town.”
“I’ll help you get one if you want,” Spike jumped in.
Buffy looked up, startled, at Spike. “What?”
“I’ll help. I know about cars.”
Anya nodded enthusiastically, “He really does. He loves to restore old cars, put them back together and make them all shiny and new. People hire him for it. You’d be surprised how lucrative it can really be and how much some of these rich bastards are willing to pay to have someone restore their vintage cars for them. You’ve seen the DeSoto,” and she gestured to Spike’s old, but surprisingly new looking, black car. “He’ll take you out Buffy,” Anya chirped and slung her arm through Spike’s. “He’s so nice, isn’t he?”
“You don’t have to do that Spike,” Buffy told him kindly, “Really, you don’t. I mean, I should learn how to do it on my own—“
“Well, think of it as a learning experience then. I’ll go with you this time so that next time, you’ll know how to do it.”
It was a great offer and it’d help a lot. The idea of going out to be eaten alive by car salesmen petrified her. Didn’t they eat clueless women like her for breakfast, lunch and dinner?
“Okay, thank you,” Buffy agreed. “I can pay you—“
“Don’t you dare,” Spike nearly growled. “I’m not taking your money for that. You’re Anya’s best bird so that makes you all right in my book. I’m helping you because I want to.”
Buffy smiled, “Thanks.”
“Well, I say we climb in that DeSoto of his and find out just how good he is,” Faith said cheekily. “What do you say B?”
Buffy laughed, “It’s up to Spike, not me.”
“Let’s go,” Spike grinned.
Putting her head on Buffy’s shoulder and wrapping an arm about her waist, Faith leaned slightly in to Buffy as they walked to Spike’s car. “Love you B.”
Buffy smiled, “Love you too, Faithy,” she said, calling her the special name her husband used to call his younger stepsister.
***********
Spike jogged up to Buffy’s front door the next morning, whistling. His fist hadn’t even made contact with the door when the door flew open.
Buffy stood there, all ready to go, in pink capri’s and some kind of flowered, ruffly top, with light make up and pretty pink gloss on her lips. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. She smiled up at him, “Hi, I saw you coming up the walk. You ready?”
He nodded, smiling down at her, gosh but she could pass for a sixteen year old. “How old are you exactly, pet?”
“Twenty-eight, same as Anya, why?”
“No reason,” he said non-chalantly.
“How old are you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes up at him.
“Twenty-two.”
Buffy gasped, “Still a baby!” she teased.
Spike laughed. “Come on old lady; let me help you to the car. Or would you prefer your cane?”
Swatting him playfully, Buffy laughed and locked up the house. “Make sure you tell me when you’re tired and need to take your afternoon nap,” she teased back.
Spike laughed and opened his car door for her, “Mi’lady.”
“Such a gentleman. Anya must adore that,” Buffy said, beaming up at him from the passenger seat.
He shut the door, wondering if he’d ever held the door open for Anya. He didn’t think he had. Interesting.
***************
After teasing one another over kids menu’s and senior citizen’s menu’s, Buffy and Spike relaxed into a pleasant lunch after some heavy car shopping.
“I always thought it was easy; you go to one place, you pick your car, and you’re done,” Buffy told Spike, popping a fry in her mouth.
“It can be like that if you’re really lucky. But it’s good to shop around and get an idea. You don’t want to get swindled and you want to get the best deal. How are you paying for this anyway?”
Buffy blushed and Spike thought how adorable that was. “Some money I put away for a rainy day.”
“Gotcha. Can I ask you a question, Buffy?”
“Sure.”
“Anya told me you still have your mother’s gallery. What do you do with it?”
“I have employee’s that take care of it for me. I stop by once in a while to see how it’s doing, put my two cents in and help manage where I can, but mostly they do everything. I just enjoy the fruits of their labors so to speak. Though I do pay them handsomely. I’d be lost without them. Willow is one of them that work for me.”
“Do you ever desire to do more?”
She looked down, chewing thoughtfully. Swallowing she shrugged, “Sometimes. I’ve started going in a lot more than I used to. After Doyle, I couldn’t bear to go in there at all. I – “ She shook her head, “You don’t want to—what about you? Do you do something other than refurbish old cars?”
Spike couldn’t help it, he reached across the table and took her hand in his, “Buffy you can tell me,” he said softly.
She moved her hand away, “I know, I just don’t want to right now, okay?”
He nodded, “Anything you want.”
She regarded him silently for a long time and he watched her, watching him. “What is it about you?” she finally said. “I only met you yesterday and I feel like –“
“You can tell me anything?”
“Yeah. What is it?”
“I reckon it comes from a place of understanding. Of having been there, in more ways than one. I’m a good listener.”
“You really are,” she said, almost sounding awed by it.
“So are you, you know. You’re the same for me. You get it, you get what I say.”
“Doesn’t Anya?”
“She does, but, she’s never had to deal with loss herself. In that I mean, she’s lost someone through another – like Doyle through you. She grieved for him, yes, but she’s never felt it as acutely as you do. I s’pose that’s where my understanding comes from.”
“She’s a good listener too, you know,” Buffy pointed out, “She really is. She was there for me through some horribly dark times. I might not be here if it wasn’t for her.”
“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Spike mused.
“No?”
“No, not at all. I think you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. You never truly know your own strength until you’re forced to use it. I think you’ve used it, just haven’t been aware of it. You’re not here because of Anya, Buffy. You’re here because of you.”
Silence, then, “So what is it you do besides refurbish cars?”
Spike chuckled, “I got the hint there, luv. Okay, well, I don’t do much. I uh- my uncle who took me in after my parents passed, got sick quite suddenly a couple years ago while I was going to school, and I left school to take care of him and help my aunt out for a bit. Decided life was too short to be doing something I didn’t enjoy – like teaching history as my father had done—so I started doing the refurbishing as a fun thing to get paid for once in a while.”
“Do you have – I mean, do you have--?”
“Money?”
“Yes, from my inheritance. Though, aside from fixing up old cars, I help out at garages and such, repairing cars, buying cars at auctions and selling them to some garages to sell.”
“Wow. You love cars, huh?”
“It relaxes me,” he smiled. “What do you do to relax?”
“Paint. Just like my mom.”
“Have any pieces up at that gallery of yours?”
“Oh God, no. Not good like that.”
He cocked his head to the side, “I bet you are.”
She blushed again and he warmed at the sight. “No, I’m not,” she said firmly this time. “So, is your aunt the aunt that nicknamed you Spike?”
He grinned “Sure is.”
“Is your uncle okay now?”
“My Uncle Giles? Yeah, he’s fine now.”
“What was it?”
Yeah, Spike, what was it? “He had a heart transplant,” he lied.
Buffy gasped, “Wow. That’s. . . that’s amazing. And he’s okay now?”
“Healthy as a horse.”
“Wow,” she shook her head in wonder, “just wow.”
He warmed at the thought of Buffy responding that way when – no, if-- he told her that it was really him. It had always been a touchy subject for him, his transplant. He felt . . impaired somehow because of it. Not to mention self conscious of the huge scar across his chest and the Gortex in the wall of his chest. Not that she’d ever see the Gortex—here we go again, eh mate? Nothing said Buffy was ever going to see your chest at all.
“So, you ready to go out and do this again?” he blurted out, ready to get off this topic and train of thought.
Buffy nodded, smiling. “Let’s get to it.”
*******
“You hate it,” Buffy said, grinning from ear to ear as she slid a finger down the smooth surface of her lime green Volkswagon bug.
He chuckled, “Well, it’s kind of girly for me.”
She shrugged, “You don’t have to drive it, remember?”
He nodded, “That is true. But I can tell you’re very happy with it.”
“I love it!” And she flung herself in his arms in gratitude. “Thank you!” She held onto him longer than she needed to and thought, Wow, he’s strong. Solid. Her mind registered: Safe; secure. Feeling a tingle of something kindle inside of her at the feel of being in his arms, she released him quickly. “I think I’ve held you hostage long enough. You can go now if you want.”
She marveled in wonder at the look of hurt that passed over his face.
“No, kitten. I’m gonna stay until you’re all set on the road. Going to the RMV and all that is no fun; I’ll keep you company.”
Now she marveled at the relief she felt at his words and readily agreed.
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