Spinning The Wheel 09 – Scar Tissue

"Hi." Buffy smiled wryly as she entered Spike's living-room.

She found Spike sitting at the table in front of a bowl of cereal, a mug of steaming hot coffee and the local newspaper in his hands.

"Morning." he greeted her chewing and flipped over a page of the paper.

"Oh, if I'm… I don't want to bother you. I can come back later." She was ready to turn on her heels and leave the apartment again.

"Ehm, no. Stay. I'm just..." he gestured with spoon towards the bowl. "Sit down."

And so Buffy did. She flopped down on a chair, resting her hands in her lap.

"It's pretty late for a breakfast." she said to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I know. But I had bit of a busy night, had to finish a new short story and got a little got caught up in it." Spike washed down the cereal with a sip of his coffee. Then, he moved back to take the empty bowl into the kitchen, but Buffy lept to her feet.

"Let me do that." She picked up the bowl herself. She wanted to busy herself. She couldn't stand these silences. They always made her think she'd done something wrong.

Spike looked at her a little startled. What was she up to? Was she trying to make up for that incident last weekend? "Thanks." he said hesitantly after a few seconds.

Buffy poured some water into the bowl and put it down into the sink, letting it soak. "I read one of your poem." she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the oh so interesting patterns of cereal that floated in the water.

"So?" he leaned back in his chair, the mug in his hands, and watched her with surprised eyes.

"Yeah, yesterday. I was surfing the net for some information for a paper I had to do for college." she lied. She couldn't tell him that she'd look up information about him, about his accident. "And it just... came up. So I looked at it. Hope you don't mind."

"How could I? It's a free country, right?" he replied but a frown crept in his face. "Where did you find it?"

"Poetryslam.com."

"Oh bugger it. That old stuff?" he exclaimed and took another sip of coffee, shaking his head.

He remembered posting his stuff there about two years ago because he had nothing better to do. But that got him the contract that paid his rents now so he didn't complain. He just didn't expect that the site was still up and running and that they still hosted his stuff.

"Ehm… yeah. But... it was good. I liked it." Buffy leaned against the cupboard, facing him.

"What did you read?"

"Wind."

Spike fell back into silence his gaze dropping on the table.
This was a turn of things he didn't expect at all. She had stepped into his private space again in a way she might not have meant to. She had read some of his most personal composition, his most private and intimate thoughts. And out of some irrational reason that bothered him more than anything.

"Can I ask you something?" Buffy asked after some moments of awkward silence.

He snapped out of his reverie and looked at her.
"What?"

She hesitated with her question, the eye-contact had startled her a little. His eyes always had that effect on her when she was looking at him for too long. They made her mouth go dry and the breath hitch in her throat. "I was... just wondering... what's that poem about?"

"A dream," he replied immediately, taking another, almost nervous sip of coffee.

Buffy frowned at that, tilting her head to one side. She didn't know if she should push any further, asking more about it or if she should wait for him to give away a little bit more.

With a little sigh, Spike pushed back from the table, revealing his bare, scarred legs only half way covered by a pair of cut-off sweat-pants. He moved over to the couch and started folding his blanket.

"It's more of a wish than a dream." he added hesitantly. He didn't even know why he was telling her all this, but it felt right to do so.
She wanted to know, was interested and since she had already read the poem there wasn't much more he could hide from her. "Ever since that accident, it's my… biggest wish just to stand up and run. Run with the wind. That's where the title comes from. I know it must sound foolish but…"

"It's not." Buffy cut him off.

Spike stopped in his tracks, the blanket in his outstretched arms, and looked at her a little bewildered. Why was she suddenly so insightful He never thought that she would understand his thoughts, that she would ask even more question about it but she didn't.

He saw it in her eyes and – he couldn't help it – it surprised him. A frown flickered over his face and he tilted his head but she smiled at him, if only a little.

Their eye contact held several seconds but before Buffy broke it and looked down at the kitchen counter.

"It's good to have dreams." she said seriously after collecting her thoughts once more. The surprised look on his face had taken her a little off guard. "They keep you going."

"Yeah." Spike's hands dropped into his lap. "They should. But when you're at the end of the rope there isn't much left to dream about."

He didn't face her, putting the blanket down in the couch, but Buffy could hear the sadness in his voice. A question lay on her tongue but she wasn't sure weather to ask it or not.

"Does that mean… you'll never walk again? I mean... sometimes it just needs recovery, right? I'm not a doctor, but..." her nervous voice trailed off and swallowed the rest of what she was about to say.

"No." Spike twisted his chair around and moved back towards the kitchen. He wasn't angry like Buffy had almost expected, he made a more of a sad and depressed expression.

Buffy approached him, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.

"In that accident... I was trapped in the car." he said. "I couldn't move my legs and when I woke up from the coma, I still couldn't."

"That's were you got the scars." It wasn't a question.

Spike nodded. "The doctor told me that almost every nerve and muscle in my legs were ripped and cut. They couldn't patch it up as much as they tried." He ran his hands over his knees and along the scars. "It's not the spinal cords like I had expected. So the information comes in but it doesn't get processed. It's like a keyboard without the a computer, you know? Any my legs don't support my weight any more, so..." He shrugged as casually as possible but Buffy couldn't see that the indifferent look on his face was only façade.

Suddenly, Buffy made a step forward and knelt down in front of him. "May I?" She nodded at his knees.
'Buffy, what are you doing?' her inner voice asked, trying furiously to shake her awake from this insane action. But Buffy pushed the thought away.

"Sure, won't hurt." Spike shrugged, twisting his mouth in a casual smile.
'Spike, what are you doing? Why are you letting her get that close, letting her touch you?' his inner voice was much louder but he ignored it, too.

Buffy raised her hand, placing her fingers carefully on his scared knees.
First she expected him to twitch with reflex, but nothing happened, of course.
She traced her fingers along the twisted scar, touching the soft vulnerable skin as if it could break any second.

"You really don't feel that?" she murmured.

Spike swallowed before he could answer. "I know that it is there, since I can see your hand but I can't actually feel it. It's like... when you sit back on your heels for too longs and your legs get numb."

Although he couldn't actually feel it he knew that her hand must feel horribly good on his skin. He couldn't remember when somebody had touched him that way. And when he had let somebody touch him. He stared at Buffy's delicate fingers with some kind of fascination he couldn't quite make out. "Just... without the prickling afterwards." His voice sounded hoarse and he had to clear his throat. She shouldn't realise what effect that gesture had on him. He could never explain.
In this tiny moment she was closer to him than anybody else over the last three years had been. It was more intimate than he'd expected and if he'd known before he would have retreated from her.

"Actually, I have a horrid fascination with scars." Buffy sat back on her heels, pulling her hand away. And the second she did, Spike already missed her unfelt touch.

He blinked and rolled back a little. "That's kinda strange for a girl." he said, trying to focus on the blonde in front of him.

"Yeah, I don't know why. When I was young I was more of a rough and tumble kid and got some scars. And I got stabbed some months ago." Buffy rambled. She blushed a little, touching his knees had been a whole lot more intimate than she had wanted it to be and the tension grew thicker any minute.

"You... what? You got stabbed?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah, I was walking home alone and got mugged. You see." Buffy rose to her feet, pulling up the hem of her blouse some inches, revealing a nasty scar on her stomach. It looked fresh but nicely healed.

Instinctively, Spike's hand darted out to touch the pink flesh but he pulled back a fragment of an inch before he touched her skin. "Looks bad." he wrinkled his nose in disgust, pulled up an eyebrow and looked up at her.

"And it did hurt like hell. Thank god, Riley found me. I would have bled to death if he hadn't brought me to the ER."

At the boy's name, Spike's hand dropped back into his lap. He saw how Buffy's blush grew a little more intense and she put her blouse back into place.

"Riley?" he asked, unsure if it was a little too personal to ask.

Buffy's gaze dropped to the floor and she chewed on her bottom lip. "Yeah, he's my… he was my boyfriend."

"Mhmh." Spike said, nodding. He couldn't deny the little flicker of jealousy that burned inside him. Although he couldn't fathom where that came from it was there. But how in the world could he think that a pretty little thing like Buffy had no boyfriend.

Wow... hold on... since when do you think she's pretty? Since when is jealousy involved in this?

"As I said, he was my boyfriend. One day he decided that I didn't love him the way he wanted me to and ran off to the army. And that's about it. No need to whine." Buffy shrugged but she felt the pang of pain in her heart the second she brought Riley into the mix.

They had been together for about a year and suddenly he went away. Woosh, and he was gone.

"If he thought so, he's a stupid wanker. That's what I think." Spike looked up at her, meeting her sad-clouded eyes and a thin smile spread over his lips.

"I don't have a real idea what a wanker is, but thanks." Buffy smiled back at him and his own smile widened a little when she gave a horrible impression of his accent.

"You're welcome." he nodded again, never breaking the eye contact.

They looked at each for what seemed like hours but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt good since Spike suddenly looked away.

"Ehm, would you mind if I'd take a shower, luv? For me it's still morning and..." his words trailed off.

"Oh... sure. I'll be gone anyway. I have to do some grocery shopping." Buffy picked up her purse and turned to leave. "Oh... I almost forgot... my little sister told me to ask where you get your inspirations for your poems?"

Spike looked at her, trying to comprehend. "Can you tell me exactly, how many people have read that poem?"

"Just me and her. She just grabbed it, I didn't mean to show her." Buffy held up her hands in defeat.

"Tell her to listen to the voice within." was all he said, his tone completely serious.

"Good, I'll tell her. Thanks. See you tomorrow then." she turned on her heels and left.

"You're welcome." he whispered after the front door clicked shut.

What had happened just now? Where they actually starting to get along?

part 10 Feeback
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