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.
Lonely I saw you standing there
blackest dress and blackest hair,
looked at me like no tomorrow
felt no pain and knew no sorrow.
You filled my body, my veins, my heart
been never social, never smart,
made me run on overdrive
felt like the first night of my life.
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.
part 7 Feeback
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