By Moadine
For Disclaimer and Author's Notes, see the Prologue.
Notes: Let's just pretend that drawing of Angel that was on Spike's punching bag was a really quick, not-detailed one and that Spike really does have a gift for the visual arts.
Chapter Four:
“Going back out to look for your brother again?”
Spike’s head shot up from his sketchbook- a gift from Rose when she’d discovered his talent on a napkin at dinner. “Hmm? Oh. Yes, I am.”
Rose sat down beside him. “Well, I’d wish you luck, but I wouldn’t really mean it. I really don’t want you to go. I mean, since you’ve been here, Charlie’s cooking has improved drastically-”
“I heard that!” Charlie yelled from the kitchen.
His wife continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “…and you’re such a helping hand around the house. It’s been only a week and already I can’t imagine what we’re going to do when you leave.”
Spike’s smile was genuine. Formerly a rare thing, his true smile had been appearing more and more in this last week. “I’m flattered. Thank you,” he replied honestly.
She peaked over at his drawing. “Ooh! Who’s that?”
He put his pencil down and held up his drawing proudly. “This is my girlfriend back home in merry ol’ England. Her name’s Buffy and, at the moment, she’s the only person in the world besides you two who might care whether I live or die.”
“Buffy, huh?” Rose placed a hand behind the drawing and tilted it so she could see it better. “With a name like that, she could almost be a stripper or something.” Her face turned a bright shade of red when Spike started laughing and she realized just what she’d said. “She’s not a stripper, is she? I mean, not that I have anything against strippers or people who work in, uh, related fields. I was just wondering, honest. I’m not biased against them. I-”
“It’s okay, Rose,” Spike said, still chuckling. “She’s not a stripper, but I suppose I can see where one might get the idea from her name. No, her real name’s Elizabeth, but everybody calls her Buffy and to be honest, I have absolutely no bloody idea why.”
“Oh.” She quickly took her hand away from the drawing and put her hand over her round stomach, trying to control her embarrassed blush. “Well, it’s a wonderful likeness, I’m sure.”
Spike tilted his head to one side as he looked at his drawing. “It doesn’t do her anything close to justice.”
Comfortable silence reigned for a few minutes, then, “So do you know her number or address?”
Spike’s eyes widened ever so slightly. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. His mind going into overdrive, he improvised an explanation quickly. “When I left, she was in the process of moving out of her flat. I tried calling her when I first got here, but the new tenants had already moved in. I assume she left her new phone number and address on the answering machine at my house, but I’d have to have the money to get there to check. In order to get the money for a ticket to England, I’d either have to get it from my brother whom I haven’t spoken to in years or… no, wait. That was pretty much my only option.”
“We could-” Rose started to say.
“No!” he exclaimed, turning toward his hostess. “No. I’ve taken far too much from you already. I will not be anymore of a burden than I already have been by taking money from you. I’ll just have to keep searching for my brother, that’s all.” He stood up, placing his sketchbook on the table. “Speaking of which, I need to get going. Burnin’ daylight here.” He gathered the coat in which he had stashed his stake and headed out the door, trying not to smile at the unintended pun. “I’ll be back before nightfall.” The door closed behind him.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, Rose brought the sketchbook closer and started leafing through it. One she noticed was titled “The Poof” (a moniker Will often assigned to his brother). The drawing showed a very miffed cotton ball; human arms and legs sticking out of the cotton ball torso and topped by a glaring head with a huge brow.
Searching further through the sketchbook, she noticed more drawings titled “The Old Man” (his father, surely) and “The Witch” (an ex-girlfriend, perhaps?). However, she only stopped when her sudden lack of oxygen told her she had found a particularly beautiful drawing. This particular one (entitled “Us”) showed Will and his girlfriend standing, facing each other, hands entwined with flames completely engulfing them. The thing that struck her most, however, was that, though their hands were on fire, the two figures were still looking straight into each other’s eyes with such love that it made Rose want to cry. Even as it was, she found herself sniffling slightly.
“They must really be in love.”
On to Chapter 5
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