Someone had super glued his eyes shut, Spike was sure of it. They were heavy and leaden, and the amount of energy he was expending just prying them open was staggering. His eyes finally opened, but the world was fuzzy and indistinct. The room smelled clean, a muted hospital scent lurking underneath the sweet smell of fresh flowers. He felt something cool and soothing travel down one arm and then the other. When it reached his palm, he felt his hand spasmodically close around it. His eyes decided to focus on a rather startled older woman.
“Oh my,” she murmured, her voice soft and naturally soothing. Spike took in the matronly woman before him...who, judging by the breeze and sponge currently clutched in his hand, had apparently been in the middle of giving him a sponge bath. It took a couple of tries, but he finally managed to get his lips working.
“Mind tellin’ me where I am, ducks?” He winced as his voice came out rough and cracked with disuse, barely more than a whisper. His mouth was dry, and he felt weak; fatigue was setting in at an alarming rate. Something was very wrong. And then it came back. The cave. The Uber vamps. Buffy...the crushing darkness... He started convulsing, his breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He was feeling lightheaded. Oh God, no! What had...Buffy, the Bit...the voices, the accusations...everything swirled into a vortex of pain and horror.
Matilde watched as the man before her went from slightly befuddled to full-blown panic attack in the matter of moments. His distressed cries snapped her out of her reverie. She set the bedside alarm off and moved beside him, laying her cool hands on his, and gently began prying his hands loose of the death grip on his hair. Mustering all of her maternal instincts, she began talking to him in a calm and soothing voice.
“Spike. William. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital wing of a place called Haven. Nothing can get you here, this is a safe place, no harm can come of you, calm down, you're safe. You're safe, Spike. You've been here healing. Nothing can get to you, it's OK. Come on lovely, relax those fingers for me, deep breaths.” Spike’s fingers slowly unwound from his long, unkempt brown hair. He felt something warm spread through him, spiraling outward, chasing away the darkness and pain. He felt a brief flare of panic that something vital was missing, but the warmth suffused him and he began to calm.
“You were brought in with severe injuries; you’ve been in a coma for a very long time. We’ve just been waiting patiently for you to wake up. There you go, that’s it. Deep breaths, let it all go.” She eased his hands to the bed, and met his tormented blue eyes. A woman could get lost in those eyes, she thought. She heard movement in the hallway and smiled reassuringly at Spike. “I knew you were too beautiful to just lay there forever. Even unconscious, you’re far too full of life.”
Spike looked at this kind woman with surprise. This could not possibly be the real world, no one said things like that. Not to him. The door opened with a quiet pop and Spike’s slayer alarm went off full blast. He estimated she was about 5’5”/5’6”. She was tiny, though not Hollywood skinny, but genuinely athletically toned. She had long red hair--a deeper, more vital red than Willow’s--that fell in a riot of curls down her back. Intelligent brown eye perused him without any hint of fear or malice. Judging by the amount of power radiating from her, she had nothing to fear from most demons, much less one who could barely open his eyes.
Her sudden smile lit up her entire face, and Spike could just make out freckles dotting her cheeks and nose. She was...friendly was the first word that popped into his head. He was taken aback when she addressed him with the sincerity and familiarity of an old acquaintance.
“It’s good to finally see you awake, Spike.” Her voice was low and soothing.
“You know me?” The smile seemed to falter a moment before it was back with the intensity of a spotlight.
“Something like that. Matilde, could you inform the floor manager that Spike will be moving out of this room, and see if the apartment we set up for him is ready to go?” The old nurse nodded her assent and smiled kindly at Spike. He caught her arm in a weak grip before she had a chance to leave.
“Thanks luv,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t exactly sure what he was thanking her for. Her scent permeated the room, and he had the feeling she had spent quite a good deal of time with him. He tentatively returned her warm smile.
“You are most very welcome, William,” Matilde responded, and with a gentle smile, she shocked the hell out of the decades-old master vampire. The quiet click of the door brought Spike out of his stupor, and he directed his gaze at the highly amused slayer.
“She...she kissed me!”
“Ah...yes...well, Matilde has a very well developed appreciation for the male form, and I suspect all those full-body sponge baths and muscle-building massages she gave you only fed her fascination...” Alanna burst out laughing at the vampire’s scandalized look. Her laughter was infectious, and Spike found himself smiling weakly. Despite her good humor, Spike was suddenly acutely aware that he was alone with a very powerful slayer and completely defenseless. He nervously glanced around the room, his eye alighting on anything that wasn’t female. Alanna took a few moments to observe him before offering an olive branch.
“Well...welcome back. Got any questions?”
“Yeah. Who won the world cup?” he asked flippantly.
“Actually, the final game is Sunday. France versus Italy. Portugal and Germany are playing the consolation game.”
“What? France is in a position to win the World Cup? France? The nancy little poof of a country that hasn’t won a war in...fuck all? You can not be serious!” The world had definitely gone to shite while he’d been out. Wait...if they were playing the final game of the world cup already, that meant... “How...how long was I gone?” The slayer’s grin faded and Spike felt the uncontrollable panic rising again.
“A little under six months,” she murmured softly. Spike closed his eyes and tried to fight back the swell of emotions. Six months. Six bloody months. “Sunnydale is a huge crater. You collapsed the Hellmouth, and the entire town became a giant sinkhole. We had to dig you out, but that...that took a while. You were...you were in pretty bad shape when we found you. We had to act fast to keep you alive, and--”
“You fed me.” He met her eyes as some of the memories came rushing back. The roof collapsing, lost in the darkness and pain, then the voices and feeling a slayer close by, wondering why it didn't feel familiar, and the taste of her powerful blood...of being pulled away before he took to much. “Why would you do that?” he asked softly.
Alanna seemed surprised by Spike’s questions, as if not doing it had never occurred to her. “Well...I really didn't need all of it to live. Figured I could spare you a pint or two.” She smiled sincerely, and allowed herself a moment to observe the myriad of emotions swirling through Spike’s expressive blue eyes.
”This is officially the weirdest day of my life,” thought Spike,”and that is really saying something.” Slayers didn’t save the lives of vampires; they staked them and then asked questions never. So what was she doing? She’d dug him out of the ground, put him in a hospital, and fed him. Stuck her bleeding wrist in front of his face and made him drink. That was...beyond huge. It was all about the blood, blood was life. She had given him her life. He wondered if she realized what that meant. And didn’t she realize shoving her bleeding wrist in the face of an unconscious vampire was an incredibly stupid thing to do? He cleared his throat and turned his attention to... “Don’t think I caught your name, pet.”
“Oh! Oh, wow, right, sorry, I’m Alanna. Lena to many, I have a slew of personal pet names, and I’ll occasionally respond to ‘Hey You’.” She smiled again and Spike was momentarily distracted by the complete lack of guile behind it. She was, as far as he could tell, being honest with him and completely unthreatening. Spike felt the last of his tension slip away.
“Well even though you obviously know me, name’s Spike.”
Her open and gleeful grin was refreshing. “Well hi Spike. Welcome to Haven, your home for the past few months and however long you’d like it to be in the future.”
“’zat so. You have cigarettes in Haven?” He grinned cockily at the censoring look she gave him.
“Well, I’ll see what I can do, considering you’re already dead.”
“You’re a peach.” She seemed to be waiting for him to say something else. “So...what’s this place called? Haven? What exactly is this place, diggin' vamps our of craters and wot not? An’ don’t you people have rules about fraternizing with the patients?” He was rewarded with a giggle.
“Oh, Haven’s a good deal more than a hospital. It’s actually a city of sorts. There are all sorts of people here, demon and human. It’s a safe zone; the land is consecrated, and there’s been no blood spilt here for...oh, several hundred years. Well, aside from the odd scraped knee and unavoidable accident. We have wards toos, lots and lots of wards. They wards don’t stop people from fighting, just from doing any serious damage; a lot of it is based on intent. We're something of a neutral zone in the supernatural community. A lot of treaties are negotiated here, and those can get a little crazy.” Spike thought it sounded like a global version of the chip.
“How come I’ve never heard of this place? Been a demon a long time.”
“Long is a matter of perception,” she said with a deceptively bland smile. “But we don’t exactly advertise, and most of the people who come here don’t leave. Ah, in a totally non-Bates Motel kind of way. And those that do leave are very protective of their time here. And let’s be honest...until a little while ago, you wouldn’t have been very interested in a town guaranteed to be violence-free...though there was this one time where a novice witch literally painted the town red...” Spike let out a bark of laughter at that.
“Yeah, well she gets points for creativity,” Alanna said with a wry grin. Spike was about to reply when he blinked and everything seemed to shift. Alanna was no longer standing next to his bed, but ensconced in a plush chair on the other side of the room, papers and books stacked on a small table beside him.
“Oh, hey! You're back!” Spike frowned in confusion. “Adrenaline crash. You're pretty weak. Fell asleep on me. But no worries, I didn't take it personally. How are you feeling?”
“Ah...'m OK,” Spike mumbled. He still felt incredibly weak and tired. He shook his head, trying to focus.
“Don't push yourself. You're not going to be 100% right off. Feel free to nod off whenever you want.”
A light knock interrupted their conversation. A young Asian boy who smelled of Brachen demon stuck his head in and told the slayer everything was ready. Alanna practically bounced out of the chair.
“You up to seeing your new digs?”
~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***
Spike was mildly embarrassed as they wheeled his hospital bed down the hall and into the elevator. But Alanna had cautioned him against trying to get up, and when the act of just trying to sit up without help had all but wiped him out (again), Spike had readily agreed. He was actually pretty sure he fell asleep for part of the trip, because the next thing he knew, the sound of a key in a lock woke him up.
“Welcome to your humble abode,” Alanna announced, directing his bed into the homey flat. The door opened to a large, carpeted living room, complete with TV, couch, and coffee table. He could make out a kitchen and dining area (fully furnished from what he could tell) on the far wall, as well as a closed door. “You’ve got kitchen and laundry over thata way; that door is a guest bedroom with a full bath. This is the master suit.” She pushed open a door on the far side of the couch to reveal a large bedroom...without a bed. Spike belatedly realized he was IN the bed and wondered why they’d set up all the other furniture, but not that.
“You may have noticed that the decor lacks a little, how should I say this, color. But there are a lot of little shops around town where you can pick up any knick-knacks you might want. You’re also welcome to change out any of the furniture, just let maintenance know and they’ll come pick it up and even move in your new stuff,” Alanna rambled, filling him in on the ins and outs of his new home. Spike’s head was swimming, and he was afraid he’d landed in Bizzarro world, where people actually liked and respected him and you really got all this nice stuff for free just because. “You saved the world. That’s a big debt to pay.” Spike realized he must have said part of that out loud, and the look Alanna was giving him was penetrating and serious. He had to glance away from the intensity of her look and settled with studying his new room, his eyes alighting on a closed door.
“That’s your bathroom,” the slayer volunteered. “Set up to suit your special needs.” Spike barely had time to process what ‘special needs’ meant before she continued, “I’m gonna go and let you rest; you looked completely beat. But I’ll be back in the morning to answer any other questions you might have. And if you're feeling up to it, maybe some fresh air? Sound good?”
It was only then that Spike realized he was already half asleep. He gave her a small nod, before succumbing to exhaustion and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***
“Impressssively done,” a sibilant, dry voice hissed.
“I would not have thought it possible,” a warbling female voice added. “He is naturally inquisitive and very bright. But he will have to deal with it tomorrow. You honestly think this respite will help?”
“In the short run, yes. But the long term? Nothing can stop what’s coming. All we can do is hope Spike will make it through.”
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