Spinning The Wheel 05 - Retrospective

"You're what?"

"I'm moving out. I can't do this anymore."

"You can't leave me, I need you."

"I can do what I please. Pull over. I want to get out."

"No, you won't. Explain it to me. Why do you want to leave? I don't understand."

"And that's my point, darling. You don't see. All you see is your music and the band. Your eyes are not on me anymore. Not like they used to."

"Luv, that's not true. I still have eyes for you, always will. I love you, baby."

"No, you don't. Pull over."

"I won't. We talk this out. Everything will be all right. I swear."

"No, it won't. Nothing's gonna be all right. It's over. Accept that."

"Luv, you can't just…"

"Watch out!!"

CRASH!!!

***

Spike awoke with a short scream. He was shaking all over, beads of sweat had formed on his forehead and chest. He had to bite his lip to keep it from shaking. Tears stung his eyes and he was close to screaming.

He flopped back on the couch. One of his legs dangled uselessly from it but he refused to get into a more comfortable position since he couldn't feel it anyway.

His heart was racing, slamming furiously in his chest. He covered his widened eyes with his hands, forcing them shut and the tears back to whatever horrid place they came from.

The dream. There it was again. Like every night, or at least every night that he could remember. The dream that haunted him for three years now, that was stuck in his mind, on the back of his eyelids for the rest of eternity. The dream that wasn't a dream. The dream that was real, that was his past.

Why couldn't he just die from a heart attack on one of those nights? That would make everything a whole lot easier.
In death he wouldn't need to feel the guilt, the pain and the loss. It was all too much. He couldn't bear it any longer. It would either drive him insane or he would kill himself.

No. He wouldn't. He had tried once but failed, couldn't perform, couldn't end his own miserable existence. He remembered sitting in the bathroom in the tub, the knife already in his hand, the blade itching against his vulnerable skin. Blood had trickled down his wrist already but he couldn't go further. He couldn't finish it.

With a furious roar he'd tossed the knife through the room, the cold steel blade clattering on the tiled floor.
He'd sat there for a while until the bleeding stopped. He had cried that day, so hard that he thought he could never stop, that he would rather cry himself to death than bleed.
He was even more pathetic than he'd ever thought, not been able to off himself.

Spike grabbed the pillow from under his head, pressing it down on his face, the soft material soaked up the sweat and the tears.

He couldn't breath and he wouldn't. He would end it now.

He stayed like that for almost a minute. Until the natural survival reflexes kicked in and he threw the pillow down on the floor.

More tears spilled down his cheeks as he cried in the dark. He just couldn't do it.

And suddenly he saw Buffy's face in front of his inner eyes, the look of concern on her face when she asked him about his family and friend and when he'd told her that he was alone.
She really did care then, in that tiny moment.

And he had felt comfort in that look. It wasn't like the mocked concern most people gave him, it was real, it felt real at least. He had felt the spark of warmth in her eyes. That had been like a ray of sunlight after long months of a bristling cold winter. It felt like a piece of ice started to melt slowly, the water running down into the earth, feeding the small seeds stored deep down.

He had never believed that this would ever happen again, and as it did now, he tried to push that thought away.
He'd seen how this girl was. She wasn't different from any other person. The flicker of concern had just been there for a second. Like a twenty-year old mall-girl would really care about a guy like him. A wreck, a cripple, a totally useless member of society.

With that thought in mind, he picked up his pillow again, tucking it under his head. He shifted into a more comfortable position and fell asleep almost immediately. The crying and the thoughts about Buffy making him unbelievably tired.

The dream didn't come back and he was glad about it. He nestled deeper into his pillow, unaware of the flicker of Spring spreading inside him.

***

Buffy lay on her side, the blanket wrapped around her thin form. The alarm clock on her bedside table was blinking '3.27'. She had been awake now for what? Two and a half hours trying desperately to get some sleep, but the sleep wouldn't come.

After Spike had left, the blonde had been to the gift-shop Rupert Giles owned. He was a friend of the family ever since they moved here from Los Angeles. Buffy's mother had an art gallery and over that they came in touch.

After she'd collected all the stuff she needed for her birthday party in two weeks, she went home, trying to finish a very urgent paper for her sociology class. She'd found it hard to concentrate on what she was writing and it took her three attempts to finally get it done.
It wouldn't be her best work but at least she had something to show.

Now, she was lying in her bed. She was tired but she couldn't sleep. She was staring out of one of her window, the moon threw a pale light into her room and bathed it in silver shadows.

The talk this afternoon spun in her head. She couldn't let it go, couldn't forget how hopeless hopeless Spike's words had sounded, how much pain he had shown in his eyes. He was lonely and how he'd explained it bothered her more than she thought it would.

He wanted to be alone. He had even driven friends away. He had a talent in that, no doubt, but she couldn't understand why. Nobody wanted to be alone by choice.

She remembered all too well when her farther had left. Though her mother and her sister were still around she'd felt lost, left alone. A part of her family was gone and as it seemed would never come back.
In a way she was glad about it, her dad had disappointed her, had destroyed her picture of a perfect family. When she was little, she had the nightmare that he'd come back and tell her that it was her fault, that she had driven him away. Now she knew better , but it was still nagging in the back of her mind.

So she had some kind of image of what it must feel like to live alone, not to have anybody to talk to. But why did he choose that? There had to be a reason and she knew that it wasn't just the fact that he was in that chair. There had to be something else.

She'd sensed some kind of loss in the way he looked at her. His gaze was open for her in a way she'd never experienced before. But why loss? Well, he had lost the ability to walk but that couldn't be it.
As he said, he could get used to that. There was something else, Buffy was sure.

But she was just as sure that she could never ask him. First, he wouldn't tell, second, he'd be horribly mad at her for asking.
She had trouble finding the right words in his presence anyway but that was a topic she could never touch without fearing he would rip her head off.

Buffy felt a pang in her heart as she remembered his look. It was burned into the back of her mind ever since then.
Deep inside here, something was stirring. She couldn't figure it out yet, but suddenly, she cared. She wanted to know what it was all about, why he acted and reacted the way he did, why he choose to be alone. She wanted to know what he had been like before the accident and what had changed his life so profoundly.

With a disgusted grunt, Buffy turned on her back. No, she wouldn't start caring now. She just wanted this to be over, didn't want to know why he was such a bastard. She didn't even like him, so why was she giving any thought about him.
She pushed the thought as far as possible back into the depth of her mind so they wouldn't bother her anymore and let her sleep a little.
She had classes tomorrow and she didn't want to look like some kind of dead girl walking.

Avoiding the pictures and the little amount of concern that was bubbling up inside, exhausted her. And slowly, she drifted off into sleep.

Spinning the Wheel 06 - Tea For Two

It hadn’t stopped raining since last night. When Buffy awoke the sky was all grey and cloudy. Mist was hanging in the air and the sun had no chance of poking through the clouds.

What was wrong with the weather lately? First it was hot like in Death Valley so you had to hang around refrigerators or the a/c all day.
And now, out of nowhere, it started raining and didn’t seem that it would stop so soon, plus the temperature seemed to have dropped a couple of degrees.

Buffy grunted in disgust as she jumped over a puddle on the sidewalk. The legs of her pants were already soaked and her hair dangled, dripping water into her face.
She was so stupid not to take an umbrella with her.

As the apartment building came into sight she let out a sigh of relief and sped up a little.
Panting she reached for the door and rang the bell.

The intercom buzzed to life with a static crackle.

“Yeah?” she heard Spike’s voice and thanked god that he was fast. A little longer in the half-sheltered doorway would left her soaked to the bone.

“It’s me,” she rasped, her voice a little hoarse from running the whole way.

The door buzzed and she pushed it open. The soles of her shoes made a squelching sound on the linoleum floor. The door to the apartment was - as always - open ajar and Buffy knocked before stepping in.

“Hello?” she asked cautiously. She didn’t want to run in on him like last time. The picture of him shirtless flashed in her mind, leaving her slightly blushed despite the cool chill caused by her wet clothes.

“I’m here.” She heard his voice from down the hall, from the room she hadn’t discovered yet.

It turned out to be some kind of office. There was a desk with a laptop at the opposite wall of the door under the window. A shelf to the right held dozens of books, most of them obviously had been read judged by the mangled backs and pages.
On her left stood a keyboard, connect with something that looked like it was taken out of a sound studio but Buffy couldn’t figure out what one could do with it.

“There you are.” she announced her presence. Spike sat with his back to the door in front of the laptop, typing with fast fingers.

“Just a sec.” he said but he sounded completely absent.

“Sure. Take your time.”

Several minutes passed and Buffy was rocking back on the balls of her feet. The blonde woman was shivering more and more as time went by.

“So…” Spike explained, shutting the computer down and turning around. “What… you’re soaked. Is it still raining?”

“Well, yeah.” Buffy frowned. He was sitting right in front of a window and he didn’t realise that? Weird.

“You’re shivering. Wait, I’ll get you a towel.” He passed by her, entered the bathroom on the opposite site of the hallway and handed her a big, fluffy, dark blue towel.

“Thanks.” Buffy wrapped it around her shoulder, nesting her nose into the soft material. She took in a deep breath as the warmth crept back into her body, breathing in the fresh smell of the towel.

“I can make some tea if you want. So you don’t catch a cold.” saying that, Spike moved into the living room and on into the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Buffy repeated. “But you don’t need to.” Despite her own words she followed him.

“But I want to. Sit down.” he said from behind the kitchen counter, roaming through the cabinets. Where the hell did he put that damn kettle? “Ah, there it is.” he exclaimed. “You should think the British know where they put there tea-kettles but no…. I’ve lived in this country for too long.” he said more to himself than to the soaked woman on his couch.

“What?” she asked. She didn’t quite make out his words.

“Hm? Nothing. I was just ranting.” He filled the silver kettle and put it on the stove, switching it on and rolling back to look for the tea.
In the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Buffy. She had sat down on his couch, had slipped out of her shoes and was now making herself comfortable, pulling her legs beneath her Indian style.
She tried to dry the tips of her long blonde hair to keep it from dripping on his couch. It was a nice picture, seeing her like that. The impression of the shop girl in the expensive skirt and top faded for a second, she almost looked vulnerable to him.

As the kettle piped, Spike snapped out of his thoughts. The breath caught in his lungs and for a second he could just stare blankly, blinking his way back into reality.
What was wrong with him? Where did these thoughts come from that Buffy was pretty, even vulnerable? Was he out of his mind now? Did the nightmare last night finally drive him around the bend?

Spike pulled the kettle from the stove and the piping faded. From another cabinet he produced a carton with several sorts of tea. Well, actually it was just one.
“Is.. ehm.. caramel-vanilla okay with you?” he asked, frowning at the label.

“Yeah, sure.” Buffy confirmed. She rubbed her nose with the towel. Deep inside her, she felt a bug settling into her system.

“I don’t know where the hell that tea came from but it smells good, so..” He carried two mugs on a little tray in his lap when he came back into the living room. He stopped beside the coffee table and handed her one of the cups.

“Thanks.” His warm fingers brushed again her cold ones and contact made her shiver. She kept her eyes fixed on the mug. If she looked up now she would blush, she already felt the heat creeping into her cheeks out of no particular reason.

“Don’t drink it down all at once, its still pretty hot.” he said, placing the tray on the table, taking his own cup into both hands. He stared down into the brownish liquid, his earlier thoughts still confusing him.

Buffy nodded, but kept her head down. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, trying to warm up a little.

An awkward silence settled between them, both of them not daring to say anything.
It was weird after yesterday. At the Espresso Pump they had a real talk and now they were back to the awkward silences, Buffy hated so much.

This situation was awkward enough, there was no such silence needed.
Buffy felt embarrassed sitting on his couch with his towel wrapped around her. She must look horrible with her hair all wet and out of shape.

“So, ehm.. you got everything you needed yesterday?”

The blonde snapped out of her reverie. “What?”

“The gift shop? Did you get everything?” Spike repeated. Not that he really wanted to know but he had to say something or they would both die of the horrible silence.
It was strange, though. For three years he never had much contact to other people, he didn’t talk much but now it was unbearable not to.

“Yeah, Giles had everything I needed. He always does.” Buffy smiled at the thought of the British shopkeeper and took a sip from her tea, the sweet taste filling her senses.

“Giles?” he asked a little confused.

“Yes, he owns the shop. He’s a friend of the family ever since we moved here.”

“You’re not from her?” Why was he asking all this? Why did he care?

“No, well.. not exactly. We lived in LA until we moved here five years ago.”

“Mhm..” he said, not really knowing what else to say to that.

“Why are you here?” Buffy asked back. She bit her lip. Was she going too far already? Could she ask that? “In America, I mean.”

Spike nodded as he finally understood what she was up to. “The band. We got a contract here in the States. So we moved over.”

“What music did you guys play?” Buffy took a sip from her tea. She just wanted to keep the conversation going. This familiar atmosphere was more than she could bear at the moment. It was all too nice and friendly and after she lay awake almost the whole night thinking about him and his situation, the thoughts were still lingering in the back of her mind, ready to pop up in any given moment.

“Punk, basically, rock.. that stuff.” he said hesitantly.

“Can you.. ehm.. do you have any CDs?” she asked carefully.

Spike didn’t answer immediately. He really didn’t want to go there again, he could push her back, refuse.
“Yeah, I have some stuff on the computer.” he said before he could think about it. He had no idea why he’d said that. He just wanted to reject her.

With a little sigh he put the mug down and made his way back into the office. Buffy followed him, the towel still wrapped around her shoulders and the mug in her hands.

“It’s a pretty rough version, was supposed to be a demo for our second album. But it never made it.” he said while starting the computer again. He switched on the speakers connected to the laptop.
Then, he turned around seeing Buffy standing in the doorway. “Oh.. there’s a chair.. just put the stuff on the floor.

Buffy looked around saw the chair standing to her left beside the keyboard. Books and magazines were piled on it so she hadn’t noticed it in the first place. So she re-piled the stuff on the floor to her feet and sat down.

“Don’t expect too much. It’s not that good.” He turned towards the laptop again, hit a few key and the music started playing.

The first hard guitar riffs made Buffy jump a little and the fast drumbeat made her frown.
Punk wasn’t her music, really, but she had asked for it.
But suddenly the guitar and drum stopped and were replaced by a pretty sensual keyboard. The soft melody stood in sharp contrast to the song’s intro.

Buffy sat there, listening in silence. She recognised Spike singing this song, his British accent still audible. It just had to be him. She licked her lips when the guitar kicked back in with the hard riffs, contrasting to the ballad-style singing.

“That’s… that’s beautiful. Is that you?” She had to know for sure. She hadn’t expected him to be such a good singer. She’d seen his guitar and he had told her that he had been in a band but that was.. it was amazing.

For an answer, Spike just nodded. He couldn’t speak. He had turned around because he had already known that this would happen. To stifle a sob he bit his lip so hard that he drew blood. Slowly, he lifted his hand to prop his head on it, wiping a lonely tear out of the corner of his eye.
He knew he must be quivering, hopefully she didn’t notice.

In a flash of memory he saw himself up on stage, in front of the audience, the mic in his hand and the other band member behind him.
He saw the lighters in the hands of the people at his feet, the flames flickering, the spotlights bathing the stage into a dark red light. And he saw her, standing way back in the club over at the bar, a glass in her hand. She smiled and her beautiful eyes promised things, some of which he’d mentioned in some songs. This was her song, devoted to her, only for…

“Spike?” Buffy stood and made a careful step towards him. She sensed something was wrong with him, his shoulders were shivering as if he was freezing to death. “Is everything alright?”

“Can you…” he croaked, his voice heavy with tears and memory. “Please go.”

“Can.. can I help you? If you need…”

“GO!” he interrupted her, spinning halfway around and Buffy caught a glimpse of his red eyes and his tear-stained face. The breath hitched in her throat as she put the mug down, letting the towel drop to the floor.

“Alright. Sure.” she staggered backwards. His outburst had startled her and for a split second she was almost afraid of him. So she was glad when he turned around again and she was out of the room.

From down the hallway she could hear his sobs, his crying. She couldn’t remember seeing a grown man crying, even weeping. It scared her and she desperately wanted to leave but for about a minute she couldn’t move.
She stood, paralysed, at the front door and listened. There was a horrid fascination to it but there was also something else. She cared, she wanted to go back in there and comfort him as best as she could.
If she wouldn’t have been so stupid to ask if he had a sample of his music, he wouldn’t be crying now. It was her fault. Their relation wasn’t getting any better, she made it worse, constantly. It was better if she would go now, go and leave him be. She couldn’t help him although there was a desperate pull deep inside her to go back in there and take him into her arms.

With a resigned sigh, she turned around and left the apartment.

Spinning the Wheel 07 - The Clean-Up

Spike put his cup into the sink and turned on the faucet, letting the dishes soak in the hot water.
His breakfast this morning had been even more depressing than usual. He was used to depression in every shape and color but yesterday gnawed at him like an evil little beaver.

Not only had the song brought back stuff he had tried to push back into the deepest dwell in the back of his mind but the scared expression on Buffy's face was the thing that did it.

Although she was a plaque, although she had the talent - without missing a single step - to stomp into every unpleasant memory available, he couldn't blame her this time.

It was his fault. He hadn't thought about the consequences of the song, what it would dig up. The flashback had overwhelmed him, his bottled up emotions erupting from him in a way he hadn't expected and he had shocked Buffy.

He'd seen it on her face, in her widened eyes even in the split second he'd turned around.
He didn't want her to see him crying of all things, but he didn't mean to scare her.

Yesterday, they had a nice talk over a cup of tea. He'd sensed some kind of connection then as if there was a flicker of sympathy between them. The way she'd looked all soaked and freezing, wrapped in his towel with the mug in her hand.
And they talked about everyday stuff, about where they came from. And it felt…

A knock in the front door startled him and his thoughts trailed off. Who would knock on his door?
Was it somebody from the house? Probably not. He didn't even know their names. And anybody from outside would ring downstairs.

Spike turned the water off to keep his the sink from flooding and moved into the hallway.
He couldn't look through the peak hole in the door, it was too high. So, he just opened the door.
But only to moved back a few inches in surprise.

"Hi." Buffy blushed and stared down on the tiled floor. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she fumbled with her purse nervously.

"Buffy? What…what are you doing here?" was all he could ask. Of all people in the world, she was the last one he did not expect to see.

"I'm… I'm just..." she looked up briefly, just to reveal a pretty red nose. Her voice also sounded hoarse, the flu had really got to her. "I just wanted to see if you're ok. God... this is such a stupid idea, I'm sorry… I better…"

She turned around to leave for the stairs but Spike follow her and grabbed her by the wrist.
Out of reflex she pulled back a little only to feel his fingers close around hers.

"No, luv, please... wait. Why don't come in for a sec?" He asked, pulling back his hand. He let it drop into his lap, looking down at it as if it had a life of its own. He didn't want to step into her private space, it had just been reflex.

Buffy swallowed. "If... if I'm not bothering you. I could just…"

"No." He looked up at her, afraid that she might leave again. So, he moved back behind the door and let her in. He gestured her to walk past him into the living room as he closed the door.

***

"Look… about yesterday…" Buffy began as he followed her.

"I'm sorry." they said simultaneously and looked at each other in surprise.

"What?" Buffy was the first to break the confused silence.

"I'm... I didn't mean to scare you off." Spike began, not able to look at her. "This... this song... was pretty personal. I hadn't thought about what it... might bring up. It was my fault. I'm sorry about that."

Buffy frowned. Was he really serious about that? "Don't be. I mean... it's all my fault. I'm so stupid. I really shouldn't ask all this. It's not my business, I know that, but... I was just curious. I didn't mean that to happen, you know? And if you hate me now, than I'm totally okay with it. I'll be gone in a sec." she babbled without even realising it.

"I don't." he interrupted, looking up at her. The look in his eyes cut her off.

"Huh?" she shook her head slightly to get focused again.

"I don't hate you." he was almost embarrassed to admit that but it was true. Seeing her confused like that made it even more clear.

"You don't?" Buffy asked quizzically.

"No." he said simply, meeting her eyes with a steady gaze.

"Well…" the blonde didn't know what to say. She thought he would kick her out any second, that he liked even syphilis more than her but this was... well, it was a surprise first of all. "That's a start."

Wryly, he smiled at her and lowered his head again as their eye contact became uncomfortably intense.

"Ehm… would you mind if I just wash my dishes? Water's getting cold." He pulled back a little, waiting for an answer before he would turn around and move over into the kitchen.

"I could... I could do that for you, if you like." she raised her eyebrows pleadingly. She didn't mean to sound pushy. When he didn't say anything immediately she began chewing on her lip.

"Alright, but let me do the drying, okay?" He nodded, the smile still on his face.

"Deal." Buffy stripped from her jacket, leaving it with her purse on the dining table.

***

The next minutes were spent in silence.
Buffy stood in front of the sink, washing the few dishes and handed them over to Spike who sat behind her drying them with a towel.

Suddenly, Buffy burst out into a fit of giggling.

"What's so funny?" Spike asked curiously, an eyebrow quirked at her.

"I'm just... if my mom would see me right now, I think she'd die from a heart attack."

"Why?"

"Me and housework are very mixy things, you know. I'm more of a shop girl. I can't cook nor bake, it's a wonder that I'm not breaking your stuff in the process." she explained with a casual shrug.

"I think you're doing just fine."

Buffy turned around to look at him. She tried hard not to give away her surprise. Did yesterday really happen? So why were they suddenly all into compliments and getting along?
This wasn't the Spike she had left yesterday, totally broken and crying.

"Look, Spike… I'm... I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday." she started again. She had to say it. This had been bothering her since yesterday.

"I told you it was okay. No need to bring it up again." he said, his tone dropped into a more serious level.

Buffy lowered her gaze, the washcloth in her hands, water dripping on the floor. She sighed silently. Why couldn't he just take her apology? It would make her feel so much better just to know that he wasn't angry with her or something

.

"Look, Buffy." Spike was about to reach his hand out to touch hers but he pulled back before he could even start. Saying her name had drawn enough intention, no need to touch her.

But when she looked down at his with her big green eyes the thoughts were caught in his mind for a second. She was afraid.
Afraid that he might get angry again, that he might kick her out. And she was confused. This situation was getting to her in the same way it got to him. He dropped his gaze again so he could talk.

"Look. I don't hate you. I know that you're sorry. So am I. It's just... there are things I can't talk about, things that I don't want to talk about. And yesterday was a thing like that, okay? So... please, leave it as it is, will you?"

Buffy tilted her head to look at him.
He didn't look at her instead he had his eyes focussed in a very interesting spot on the floor.
His honesty surprised her. Telling her that there was more then he'd gave away, that he had secrets he didn't mean to share was something she didn't expect him to say. It was probably one of the most honest and open moments they had so far.

She swallowed than nodded although he didn't see it.

"Alright, I'll... keep my mouth shut." Which will be hard as hell as I know myself, she thought. "Can... may I use the bathroom?"

Spike rolled back to let her through. "No need to ask."

He watched her as she went by and out of the room.
What was happening here? Why didn't he just tell her just to shut up and leave him alone forever? No, he had to go all sweet and vulnerable. Great, that would just fuel her fire, would make ask more question about what he couldn't talk about and why.
He was used to the tough guy talk before but now he was like… yeah, like what? Like jelly, like disgusting green wobbly jelly.

Spike tossed the towel in the counter and propped his elbows on the armrests. What was this girl doing to him? She made him act in ways he didn't know were still inside him. He told her more things than anybody else he'd met in the last three years and they only knew each other for a week. He sighed deeply and buried his face in his hands. He really needed to stop that or she would tare him apart.

***

Buffy stood in front of the mirror washing her hands. She remembered how she'd seen the massive amount of painkillers in the little closet under the sink.

Were those the things Spike couldn't or wouldn't talk about? His pain? The accident? Or was there still something else behind the curtain that was yet be revealed?

Wait, Buffy... what are you doing? Why do you keep poking your nose into his business? Why do you care, damn it?

'Because you've seen the look in his eyes, because you've seen how lonely he is, how much pain he has do bear. And maybe… just maybe… because you like him.' the little angel on her shoulder told her in a sweet angelic voice.

Buffy rubbed her eyes. She was tired and she felt the cold settling into her system. She hadn't slept much last night, thinking about that song and him crying had kept her awake and running around in the rain with soaked clothing was asking for a tribute now.

She unlocked the door and turned towards the living room when she caught site of his office.
Well, it wasn't a real office, just a room crammed with all the stuff that didn't fit in the rest of the apartment.

The laptop was closed, the pile of books and other stuff was still in the floor but there was something else that caught her eyes.

Carefully, she entered the room. As if he'd set up a trap to catch any intruders…

Buffy went over to the desk, to the window.
Several picture frames lay with the face down in the windowsill. The dust on them indicated they hadn't been moved for quite some time.

Slowly, she picked up one of them.
The glossy picture showing Spike, also fully bleached in a long black leather coat, together with a beautiful young woman. She had raven black hair and the most hypnotising eyes Buffy had ever seen. He had his arms wrapped around her, looking at her with so much adoration that it made Buffy swallow for a second.

She picked up another one, showing a similar picture with both of them leaning towards each other. It seemed like the outside world, even the photographer didn't exist. Just these two, the way they looked at each other. It was love, pure and simple.

A pang of jealousy hit Buffy as she looked at the pictures. Who was this woman? Why hadn't they met? Was she…?

"Would you mind putting that down?"

Buffy jumped when she heard his voice behind her, and pressed the frame against her chest before turning around slowly. She blushed furiously as if being caught with her hand in the cookie jar right before dinner.

"What are you doing here? Is that your way of keeping out of my business?" his eyes shot furious daggers at her when he came a little closer into the room.

"God, Spike... I'm... I'm sorry. I just came by and..."

"Thought you might take a look at my personal stuff? Great thought that. Wanna know what I think? I think you should put these down and go. I'll see you on Monday." his voice was cold as ice. He didn't sound angry but Buffy would've loved him to no end if he shouted at her. This tone was dangerous. As if he would rip her head off one-handed any second.

"O…okay." Buffy passed him quickly, his blazing eyes following her every step. When she was out in the hall she turned around to him, facing his back. "I'm sorry." she said simply.

"I know." he replied without turning around.

About half a minute later he heard the front door clicking shut.
Then, he moved towards the desk, picking up one of the pictures himself, letting his fingers slid over the glass covering the photograph.

"Why? Why did you leave me?" he whispered to the picture but his voice was

still too loud for the empty apartment.

No, he wouldn't cry, not again. If he did, he wouldn't be able to stop so soon. So many tears had been shed over these pictures.
That's why they were all face down. He couldn't bring himself to put them away finally. He had to keep them close, he just couldn't look at them.

But that wasn't his only problem.
Now, Buffy knew. She knew there was somebody else in his life. Or had been.

Spinning the Wheel 08 - Research Girl

“You want me to do what?” Willow raised her eyebrows quizzically.

“Come on, Will. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you have never gone sneaking into other people’s personal files. Just a peek.” Buffy almost whined.

She sat cross-legged on her friend’s bed in the dorm at UC Sunnydale. Tara was sitting beside her, her nose stuck in a big book but she was halfway paying attention to the conversation between her lover and her friend. The way she smiled and frowned on occasion gave her away.

“But that was back in my nerdy days when we had nothing better to do on Saturday night’s. I’m not doing that anymore, remember? I have my own life to sneak into.” She swelled her chest proudly and was almost slipping into the well-known Willow-resolve-face when Buffy hit her with the hurt-best-friend-puppy-eye-look that had always done the trick before.

And it did this time, too.

Willow sighed heavily, reluctantly giving in. She turned towards her laptop on the desk, hitting a few keys.

“So, what do you want to know?” she asked when the computer had connected to the internet.

“Everything you can find expect nude pictures, I guess. I want to know about his accident.” Buffy scooted closer to Willow to look over her friend’s shoulder.

“You really sure, Buffy? I mean, do you really want to know? Might be… nasty.”

“I don’t want to but I have to. There is something else than just an accident and I have to know about it. It can’t go on like this with the hidden stuff that I keep tapping into. If I want to get along with him I have to know what’s behind all this.” the blonde explained firmly, a serious expression on her face.

“Okay, your choice.” Willow shrugged and opened one of her favourite sites. So much for the ‘I don’t do that anymore’. “What’s his name again?”

“Last name’s is Rayne.”

“Wasn’t his first name said in court?”

“I was too busy not to panic to pay attention. Can’t you find it with just the last name?”

“Hey, I’m still me. But it might take longer then with the full name.”

Willow started typing in the name and waited for the results to show up.

“Hm… there are some obituaries so I guess that’s not him.” she mumbled to herself. “Aha.”

“What?” Buffy jumped to her feet and stood behind Willow.

“Here’s something about a William Rayne... ah, no, that’s just a cd-review. False alarm. Sorry.”

“Cd-review? Spike was in a band before. Take a look at that.” The two girls read over the article on silence. “Yeah, that’s him.” Buffy confirmed and Willow changed the name in the search-field.

There were less results this time but the very first one caught Buffy’s eye immediately. “Click on that.” She pointed at the url of a local newspaper. The site took some time to load when it was done Buffy gasped in surprise.

Accident on Interstate; Two injured, one dead
On October 27th the Interstate between Sunnydale and San Barth became the scene of a fatale accident.
The road had been wet from a few days rain when two cars, a blue Honda and a black DeSoto crashed into one each other. The driver of the Honda walked away with a broken nose, several bruises. He wishes to stay anonymous.
The driver of the DeSoto William Rayne, singer of the local punk-band ‘Bad Evil Things’, had been trapped in the car for about 3 hours until fire fighters could free him. Currently, he is in a coma in a local hospital in Sunnydale. Doctors say that he was seriously injured. “His nerves and muscles have been damaged and he may never walk again,“ so said Dr. Ruth Webber.
The young woman - apparently William Rayne’s girlfriend - in the passenger seat, actress Drusilla Pryce, died in the accident.
The reasons are still unclear but ‘the wet street is a huge factor’, says police officer Daniel Montgomerey. The police hope to get more information when Rayne wakes up from the drug induced coma.

Buffy sank down in the bed, re-reading the article.
As Willow scrolled down on the site, a picture became visible, showing a horribly deformed car with shattered windows and some fire fighters in the background. Beside that there was a picture of the young woman she knew all too well.

“That’s the woman in the pictures.” Buffy mumbled more to herself than to her friends.

“What?” Willow asked, facing the blonde who became more and more pale as the seconds ticked by.

“She… Spike had pictures of her on his windowsill, all face down. I guess she’s… she was his girlfriend. God.” she sighed and buried her face in her hands.

That wasn’t exactly what she’d expected to find out. She had guessed from his behaviour the other day and the days before that there was something else behind all this than just the accident, than just the fact that he had to sit in a wheelchair. But this…

Buffy couldn’t even think the thought to the end. He had lost his girlfriend or so it seemed and that wasn’t something to bear easily. A beloved person had been torn away from him.

Buffy remembered losing her cousin Celia when she was little or how her dad went away a few of years ago. It was nothing compared to the thought of losing somebody you really loved. That must be hell.
And he had been in that accident, too, he must have… oh no, don’t think it. And now, he had to live with it. That must be hell.

“Buffy? You alright?” Willow asked after a while, placing a hand on her friend’s arm.

Buffy snapped out of her reverie and blinked. “What?”

“Are you alright? You look a little pale.” the redhead had a worried frown on her face.

“Yeah, it’s just... I didn’t expect that. I mean, I knew he was hiding something with all the defensiveness and the pictures turned face down. I just didn’t know it was so bad. That’s… awful.” she sighed again, shaking her blonde head.

“What are you going to do now?” Tara asked suddenly and Buffy turned around to face her. The shy girl looked at her with real concern.
That’s what she liked about Tara. They didn’t know each other that well but the young woman had some kind of ability to always sound warm and kind and knowing.

She looked down at her feet for a moment, then shrugged.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell him that I know it. He’d freak out and he has every right to, I mean I wouldn’t be happy if anybody was looking me up on the internet.” Willow quirked her eyebrows at that but remained silent and Buffy didn’t notice. “All I can do it pretend I don’t know anything and play along. Maybe now I can avoid the danger and we can get along the rest of the ride.”

“You want to lie to him and think it’ll make things better?” Tara asked. Although her words indicated it, she didn’t sound judging. She never did.

“It’s not lying. It’s... not telling everything I know. You can’t call that a lie, right?”

Willow and Tara both looked at the blonde and Buffy’s gaze shifted between them.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. You both know that I can’t tell him.” She jumped to her feet and threw her hands up in defeat.

"Than why have you asked for these information in the first place? When you won't tell him you know anyway?" Willow tilted her head and looked at her best friend with a questioning frown.

Buffy sighed. "I don't know." she shook her head. "I just.. don't know.. I mean, you should see him. The way he talks sometimes like nothing matters anymore, like he doesn't care. He's really lonely, no friends, no family. But in the next moment he’s shouting at me, wants me to leave. That’s why I can’t tell him. He’ll throw me out and my probation will be screwed.”

“That’s the only reason? Your probation? It’s not that you might like him, is it?” the redhead had to hide the amused smile when Buffy’s eyes widened in shock and she blushed all too visible.

“Like him? Why should I like a man with Rocky Mountain-issues who’s a total wreck with no social life and a really weird attitude and mood swings and who has a totally stupid nickname? And have you seen the hair?” she rambled and threw up her hands to emphasise her point.

The two lovers had to stifle a giggle seeing Buffy like that. Tara buried her nose in the book again and Willow turned towards the computer again.

“Here is some other stuff about him. You want to read it here or shall I print it? Or are you totally interested?” Willow teased but Buffy didn’t seem to get the hint.

“Printing will be okay. I’ll take it home then. I have some reading to do plus I’m still grounded, remember?” she slipped into her jacket and waited for Willow to hand her a small pile of print-outs.
“Thanks. See you guys tomorrow then?”

“Of course. And have fun with those.” Willow smiled and shot a knowing glance at Tara out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh I will.” Buffy replied sarcastically. “Thanks for the help.”

“Research girl to the rescue. It’s no prob.”

“Bye, guys. See you tomorrow.” With that the blonde closed the door behind her and left the two girls alone.

“She likes him.” Willow said more to the screen in front of her nose than to her lover on the bed.

“Of course she does. Haven’t you noticed? She was totally into all the hateable stuff about him but she never mentioned that he has to sit in a wheelchair. Like she didn’t care. That could be a good thing.”

***

Buffy kicked the doors shut with the heel of her boot, threw her purse on the chair in front of her dressing table and flopped down on the bed. She flipped through the pages Willow had given her and she couldn’t tear her eyes from them.

On her way home she’d read some more articles on the accident, one had gone more into the unpleasant details than the last one. She’d shaken her head over that one and put the page aside.

Now she was reading one of the cd-reviews. The headlines were pretty promising. “Punk is back in the Nu-Rock world”, “Punk’s not dead” or “North London rocks California” were just a few of them.
And the articles weren’t bad either. They all talked about a great quality of song-writing and huge musical potential. There was even a concert-review including a picture of Spike - unmistakably marked by his bright blond hair - and four other guys up on stage.

Buffy looked at the picture for some time. Suddenly the song he had showed her was back in her mind, the guitar riffs and his low and somewhat sensual voice.
And then it came to her. “The lyrics of the song. They were about her, about this woman in the pictures, they just had to be. It all fits together. The description of her.“

Buffy’s fingers darted over her lips. Why hadn’t she figured it out earlier? Sometimes she was so stupid? Not seeing the woods in the middle of the trees. That’s what had brought back all the emotions and the memories he had talked about.
The blonde sighed heavily over the picture of him crying.

Reluctantly she went over to the next page. It was a print-out from a site called poetryslam.com Buffy had never heard of it, which was no wonder since she wasn’t all too much into written words weather it was for college or for fun.

Why did the computer come up with stuff like that? Yeah, right. Spike had said that he was making his money with writing, poems and short stories. But this one must be one of those he didn’t get paid for. Or it wouldn’t appear on this internet site, right?

Buffy pulled her legs beneath her and settled back to read the print-out.

Tears stung in Buffy’s eyes when she finished reading the poem.
It wasn’t the best poem she’d ever read and there wasn’t much to compare but she knew what was behind this poem.

Anybody else who stumbled across it would click it away without a second thought but she knew the author. She didn’t know him very well but what she knew was enough to understand the meaning of those few lines.

Buffy sniffed and tried to force the tears back when her door was flung open suddenly.

“Hey, big sis. Whatcha doing?” Dawn had a huge grin plastered on her face.

Buffy looked her in slight shock. Her heart was pounding from the sudden intervention. She swallowed the tears and tried to look as big-sister-like as she could manage.

“It’s called knocking, Dawn.” she grumbled but failed completely to impress her sister.

“What’s wrong?” the younger girl asked, sensing Buffy’s emotions all to well.

Although they were arguing most of the time like sisters should, sometimes Dawn was more grown up than Buffy was willing to admit.

“Nothing.” she snapped. She didn’t want to share right now. She didn’t even know why she cried in the first place but she didn’t want to dig into that hole any further.

“Yeah, right. So what the nothing that’s ruining your make-up?” Dawn asked again and closed the door to Buffy’s room behind her.

Buffy’s hand rose to her face and her finger came away with a bit of black mascara. Great, her make-up had giving her away.

“It’s really nothing.” she shifted on the bed to make some more space for her little sister to sit down beside her.

“What’s that?” Dawn grabbed the paper in Buffy’s hand and studied it with a concerned frown. Buffy didn’t answer right away letting her sister read the poem first.

“That’s so sad. Who wrote it?”

Buffy sighed, reluctant to answer. “You remember the guy I hit? That’s his.”

“The one with the Billy Idol thing? Yeah, I remember.”

Buffy smiled at the picture. She hadn’t even thought about that although she was usually the one with the high score on pop-culture references.

“He wrote that?” Dawn asked after reading it again.

“Yeah.”

“God, he seems depressed, huh?”

“That’s so much of an understatement, believe me.”

“Hm, my teacher in creative writing would love this. I bet I can learn something from him. Can I meet him?” Dawn grinned with excitement and it took Buffy a moment to shift gears for this new turn.

“What? No, you can’t meet him. He’s my probation-task. Community Service, remember? Plus, he’s not a tourist attraction. What would that look like? ‘Hi, this is my little sister, she wanted to see you.’ Like he’s some sort of ancient dinosaur bone.” Buffy snorted and shook her head.

“Okay, then not. But maybe you could invite him over some time. Your birthday is coming up soon.” With that Dawn rose and went to the door. “Oh, can you ask him where his ideas come from? Can you do that for me? To save me from failing.” She gave her older sister some of her huge grins almost no one could resist.

“Maybe, I don’t know. We don’t talk that much. We’ll see.” Buffy shrugged, the thought already brought pictures of a pretty angry Spike into play.

“Thanks.” And Dawn was gone.

“You’re welcome.” Buffy mumbled to herself, picking up the paper again.

Invite him over? To her birthday? Wasn’t that a bit rushing into things. They didn’t know each other that well to invite him over. That would be…
He wasn’t the most social person in the world and she bet her left arm that it would be a disaster having him in her home.
No, she couldn’t do that. Never.