Aphrodite and the Lost Scribe by Winsomeone

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Chapter 5: Call on Me

Chapter 5 -Call on Me

When the rain is falling
And you feel like a stranger
Call on me, call on me
I'll be by your side
-Bad Company
- Call on Me

After they sat down at the dining room table with their salads and the lasagna, they laughed nearly nonstop. Buffy told Spike silly stories about her child hood in California with Dawn and Spike told her about growing up in England with three older brothers.

They discovered a mutual love for pineapple pizza and old black and white movies. He confessed to a secret love for Passions, a soap that Buffy's mom used to watch. She admitted to a high school crush on someone strictly because of his hot car.

After Spike helped her with the dishes they returned to the living room. She sat down on a corner of the leather couch. He dropped down next to her, and pulled out his wallet. Reaching in, he pulled out some snapshots and handed one to her. "This is my niece Annie. I got the pic a couple months ago, right after her birth. She'll be a heartbreaker later.”

A fleeting expression of pain and sadness crossed Buffy's face. She handed the photo back smiling a bit too brightly. “She really is beautiful.”

Spike looked at her sharply and tried to assess the reason for the sudden wall.

She gave no explanation and pretended nothing was wrong. He picked up on the cue and quickly handing her another photo. “This is her da and mum, my oldest brother Mickey and his wife Sybil.”

Buffy had been given a completely unexpected shock. She tried not to appear maudlin and gamely looked down at the couple. The woman had a heart shaped face and the man resembled an older and heavier William. They were holding hands and smiling into the camera. There was an unidentifiable building behind them.

“Where do they live? London?”

He grinned. “Not everyone British lives in London, Pet. Place called Torquay. It's on the water, like here, but colder. I visit them as much as I can.”

She handed his photo back. “Is a love of the beach the reason you chose Beachside for your vacation?”

Spike's face assumed a smooth mask and his voice a guarded tone. “It's not really a vacation per se. I've let some things slide in my life lately and I needed somewhere I could think about those issues. I do love the beach and I didn't want a lot of people about. When Dawn mentioned that you were newly opened, it sounded perfect.”

It was Buffy's turn to wonder about the sudden coolness. She realized she'd struck a nerve. Spike smiled and in an obvious ploy to change the topic, asked “So, how do you like being your own boss?”

After regaling him with a story about finding how badly a cottage roof needed repair when her foot fell through it, she tucked both feet under her and finished her wine. Their earlier easy camaraderie reestablished itself and they both privately sighed in relief.

Spike, still chuckling, leaned back against the couch. He reached for the ashtray Buffy provided and lit another cigarette. “Speaking of cottages, pet, I was wondering if you might have space for someone else. I've an old friend who wants to visit while he's in the states on a business trip. He'll be arriving Wednesday. If not, he can just stay with me.”

“I've got one that's nearly ready. It just needs the porch floor rebuilt and a few small things inside, but I'm not sure it can be done by Wednesday.”

He leaned forward. "What if I help you? Since it's my friend that's rushing it a bit?"

She thought about it. “Two people could have it ready that quickly. Why don't
I meet you Monday morning? I've got to clean yours and the Wood's cottages and then we can start. I want to give you or your friend a break on the rental as payment for the work. It's the only way I'll agree to it.”

“It's certainly not necessary, although I'm sure Rupert would be delighted. Buffy, pet, about the daily cleaning. I really don't need a maid every day. Even at home, I only have a service that comes weekly. Could you just leave the towels and stuff on the porch most days? I promise not to let the trash get out of hand.” He smirked. “And if it does, I'll just throw it over the cliff into the water. That way, you'll never know.”

She laughed. “Sure, no problem.” Then she pretended to frown. “You know, we're a small town but we do have litter laws.”

He chuckled and stubbed out his cigarette. He stood up. “Well, it's been a busy day and I'm a bit knackered. I'm gonna go. Thanks for dinner and the company. See you Monday.”

She opened the door for him. “Thanks again for teaching me the tiling stuff.”

She gently closed the door.

After Spike left, Buffy walked around the cottage and finished cleaning up. As she emptied Spike's ashtray, she thought back on the dinner. She suddenly realized she hadn't enjoyed anything that much in a long time. It had to be before New York.

Buffy always categorized her life into two separate parts. There was the 'before she moved to New York' portion and there was the 'after she left New York and returned to California' portion. The before New York half was how her life should have gone. She had been in love with Angel, had all the money she needed to keep the wolf away, and everything had been great. Then the part during and after New York had somehow turned out wrong.

Now, trying to parent a teenager and keep her business afloat at the same time presented more of the same. She loved her sister and her new business but they were exhausting. She always felt tired.

Sitting down on the couch, she drew her legs up under her and stared out the picture window, wondering if she'd ever have the courage or enough energy to start another category.

She though of the proud smile on William's face when he had produced the photo of his new niece. She decided that he'd make a wonderful father. She already believed him to be a nice man. Laying her head on the arm of the couch, she suddenly felt exhausted. A new category would just be way too hard. Dawn arrived back from her friend's house an hour later to discover her sister sitting on the couch in the darkened room staring out the window.
*******
Spike strolled back to his cottage. He couldn't stop thinking about Buffy. He thought he sensed a genuine connection between them, and he suddenly felt nervous and afraid.

Before I could ever tell her anything that I'm beginning to feel, I'd have to tell her more about myself, but what would I say? I'm a writer who can't seem to write anymore, recently out of rehab, with a dangerous reputation and scars where my heart used to be. Yeah, that's a conversation I can't wait to have, it's sure to turn out so well...

He spied his elephant again, still perched on the table. Unexpectedly the glimmer of an idea sparked and words started to flow through his head. He opened the laptop and hit the start button. While he waited for it to boot up, he remembered all the time he'd spent recently staring at a blank screen. He started to panic and doubt himself. The insistent thought of waiting until morning crossed his mind.

Analyzing his feelings Spike realized he was still frightened of yet another attempt to write. He knew if he didn't try again now; that if he put it off again, it would be the end of his writing career. He would never write again and he would have lost an important part of himself forever.

He took a deep breath, resolutely reached over and pulled the laptop close. It was now or never. Tentatively he tapped out the first sentence.

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