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“Which one?” Leto growled impatiently.

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Alanna’s voice held a note of resignation.

“Well you have to make a choice, you don’t have all day.”

“Yes, thank you, I know that,” she snapped. She sank further in her chair, studiously avoiding Leto’s annoyingly rational questions. The silence stretched between them, Alanna desperately searching for some way to get out of her current predicament, Leto perfectly content to let her think herself into a corner. After a long deliberation, Alanna broke the silence. “Isn’t there a magical option C?”

“Sorry, there’s a two spell maximum on your bed bound vamp. And I’m surprised you even did THAT knowing how he feels about magick and--“

“I get it, Leto, the guilt trip is unnecessary. But I made the call.”

“Yes, you did, with the knowledge that you’d eventaully have to make THIS call. And you do have an option C: remove them both.”

“But...the whole point of the spells in the first place was to-to make it easier for him. Ease him back into the real world--“

“The real world where the girl AND his injuries exist. Neither of which you can keep him spelled against for long. Oh, stop. Are you trying to add Death Glare to the Slayer package?”

“Die where you stand.”

“Don’t get snarky; you put yourself in this position. Make a choice, he’ll be up soon.” Leto tried to hide the smile that crept up on him as the slayer stubbornly pouted her way to the conclusion that *he* was right.

“Do I have to?”

“Did you just whine?” Leto asked incredulously. “There’s no whining in Slaying! You know...if I didn’t know better--and I do--I’d say there was something preventing you from being completely objective in this case.”

“Par-don?”

“Hey now, none of that. I’m just saying you’re...emotional. Beyond the point you usually get. It’s...disconcerting. Ooooo, Death Glare, take two. Well, practice makes perfect.” Leto congratulated himself at containing his laughter. Alanna was getting really good at the whole Glare of Death thing.

“Give me the crystals,” she ground out. Leto swore he could hear her teeth cracking under the pressure. “I’ll break them when it’s time.”

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

An incessant pounding cut through Spike’s very pleasant sleep. Groggily forcing one eye open, he took a moment to assess his surroundings. Right. He’d been in a coma for months, miraculously opened his eyes yesterday, and met some scarily nice people who had taken care of and provided for his every need. He’d been moved into a two-bedroom flat, fully furnished though lacking the touches it would need to make it home. He smiled at the large high def TV; Passions would never be the same. The pounding continued, and a glance at the bedside clock revealed it was noon. No respectable vampire was up at noon! The pounding was getting louder.

“Bloody hell, WHAT IS IT?” he roared. Well, he tried to roar, but his vocal coardes were still a little scratchy so it came out as fairly normal. A fuzzy human-shaped thing was framed in the doorway. Judging by the amount of red in the head area and slayer tinglies, it had to be Alanna.

“Mornin’ Spikey McSpikersen!” her cheery voice piped. Spike mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like sod off. The irrepressible chit grinned wider. “Now Spike, none of that. I figured after being in bed for six months, you’d want to get off your pale lazy ass and see the town.” Spike glared at her through his one open eye.

“Incase you hadn’t noticed, Elmo,” he said slowly, “the sun is out. In fact, it’s very out because it’s noon, and vampire plus sun equals big pile o’ Spike dust.”

Her nose scrunched adorably. Just like...there was something poking at the edge of his consciousness, just beyond his grasp. Someone he should remember...

“Elmo?” Spike brought himself back to the present.

“Yeah. You know, the muppet who sings songs about poncey things and is sponsored by the alphabet? Right annoying voice, especially way too early in the mornin’?”

“Cute, and it's noon,” she said dryly, “Didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of one of your pet names so soon.” Spike looked at her oddly; what exactly did that mean? “Anyways, you silly vampire you. This is Haven. We’ve got a sun shield, courtesy of a few favors owed and a resident coven.” Alanna gestured up and spoke with exaggerated slowness, “Vampire no go boom.”

“Wait, you mean...” Spike trialed off, unable to even begin processing the implications of her words. He could walk out in the sun, feel its rays for the first time in 120 years, see the true, bright colors of the world again... “Well, then what the hell are we waiting for? Sign me up for the soddin’ tour!” Spike made to get out of bed, struggling with the tangled sheets.

“Spike...” Something in her voice stopped him cold. When he looked up, she was gazing at him seriously, even a little grimly. Spike had a feeling this particular slayer was only serious on special occasions. His apprehension grew as the silence stretched between them, thick with foreboding. She seemed to be steeling herself for something. Alanna took a deep breath and crushed one of the crystals in her pocket, lifting one of the small forgetting spells they'd cast over the injured vamp.

“Ah, well, remember when we told you we pulled you out of the rubble?” He nodded slowly, knowing instinctively that he was not going to like whatever she had to say. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge the memories of darkness screaming through his subconscious. “Six months is a long time for a vampire,” she said softly. “You were out so long be-because you were in a bad way. Really bad. Almost every bone in your body was nearly shattered. Including your...spine...” The room was closing in on him. This couldn’t be happening, not again. His head was spinning, and it was hot. He was in a tunnel, and the world was getting farther and farther away.

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

There was something cool on his neck. And it was wet. And it kinda itched. And FUCK. Not again. Memories of Angelus and that damned wheelchair crashed in on him, remembering what it felt like to be completely helpless. This couldn’t be real, this was just a nightmare, he’d wake up any minute. Nonononononononononono--

“Spike?” The Voice seemed far away. “Spike, I need you to control your breathing, or just stop altogether. You're hyperventilating. Come on buddy, calm down, just let yourself relax, let it go. You’re ok, you’re going to be fine, just calm dow...good. OK, that’s it. You're doing great.” The Voice was soothing, and Spike felt the world realigning itself.

“Good, Spike. I need you to do something for me. I want you to try and move your legs. Don’t look at me like that. Jut try it.” Feeling utterly dejected, Spike half-heartedly asked his brain to move his legs. No one was more surprised than him when they twitched. Incredulous, he tried it again, concentrating harder. They really moved; not much, but he could control them, though the effort was exhausting.

“You’re not paralyzed. But you’re not revvin’ to go either,” she warned. “Your body had to regenerate a lot of tissue. You don’t have a lot of muscle left anymore. We built up as much as we could while you were out, but your legs were one of the last parts to heal completely. Most of your nerve endings, in every part of your body, are brand spankin’ new. You’re going to have to relearn to do a lot of things, including walking, which will be the last and hardest.”

“Why last?” Alanna sighed good naturedly at the stubborn set of his jaw. Damn vampire wanted to jump the gun on her, and she knew he’d try several times before he realized there was no getting around it. But that was fine; she preferred stubborn Spike to totally freaked-out Spike.

“Therapy,” she responded. “Try and pick up a corner of your sheet there.” Spike rolled his eyes at such a ridiculous request and did so. Or he tried to. His fingers couldn’t seem to grasp anything; they were sluggish and hard to control. He tried again, still unsuccessful. He glanced up at Alanna, a slightly panicky gleam in his eye. “Fine motor skills. They leave first and return last. So what we need to do is get your upper body strong. A lot of your leg therapy requires distributing your weight between your torso and your legs. Also, once you have upper body control, we can teach you to be completely independent. We’ve set up this apartment to be user-friendly, and you’d be surprised how easy it is to get along without legs once you know how.”

Spike was dubious. He'd been without the use of his legs once, and he hadn’t even smelled the scent of independence until he forced his recalcitrant legs to support his own weight. And that whole mess had ended up in disaster, the love of his life never forgiving him for betraying her precious Daddy. He closed his eyes against the memories of Dru leaving him for a Chaos Demon. Strange, that thought didn’t cause more than a slight twinge in him.

“Care to dum that down for the overwhelmed pet?” he asked wearily.

“It’s going to take time Spike. Time and effort. But we’re going to do everything we can to get you better as fast as possible. That one of our mottos here at Haven,” she said with a wink. Alanna grew serious again, adding, “Your progress will depend a lot on your attitude and dedication.”

“Well luv, I can pretty much guarantee you I’m fairly dedicated to getting my feet back under me,” he said. She grinned at him, and he felt a little better. Not much, but enough.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She pulled two light blue balls out of her bag and presented them to Spike. He took them, but was utterly confused.

“Ah...thanks, Elmo. Just what I never knew I needed.” She laughed at him, that bright illuminating smile back on her face.

“You’re actually quite right. These are strength builders. When you’re lying around here being lazy or watching Passions, just squeeze them. They’ll build muscle and strengthen your hands. You’ll get those pesky fine motor skills back quicker, and you’ll be able to start walking sooner.” He gave her a genuine smile, and Alanna marveled at how beautiful he was when he let the Big Bad Spike persona drop. “And before I forget, you start therapy and strength training on Monday, so enjoy the down time while you can.”

Spike was struck with a sudden feeling of anxiety. Between the news about his legs, therapy, and Alanna’s stunning kindness, his head was swimming. This was going to take some time to sort out and come to terms with...and he suspected he was being given a week to do so.

“You mind a rain check on that city tour, pet? I just...I need a minute.” Alanna's understanding smile didn't help.

“Yeah. That's cool. I'll check on you later, yeah?”

*** *** ****** *** ****** *** ***

“This is...I can’t...WHAT THE HELL?! No, SERIOUSLY, what the hell.”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“Yeah, noticed that!”

“Look, it was--“

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“You--“

“Were entrusted with him, directly from the higher-ups. I’m responsible for his rehabilitation. His attitude and progress the first month or two will affect the rest of his recovery; if he’s not sold on the whole process, looses sight of the final goal, he’ll be...he can't leave. We can't let him, not until we've helped him. He could be cippled forever. ”

“Forever is a long time for a vamp.”

“Reminding him of Buffy now will only cause unnecessary problems.”

“Is that why? YOU don’t want to deal with her? That's not fair to either of them. And they're problems he'll have to deal with eventually, you can't block his memories forever.”

“The spell stays.”

“You've got what, three, four months tops? It won't hold for long.”

“Doesn’t have to.”

“The memories are going to start trying to brake though. It’ll be little things at first, things he’ll dismiss...but when it stops making sense, when the things he does remember don’t flow or have any cohesion, it’s going to confuse him. And then he’ll start to remember his feelings, you won’t have time to lift it, and he’ll realize what that means...what you’ve done. Buffy, Sunnydale, EVERYTHING is going to come rushing back. He's smart, he'll put two and two together and come up with you. What are you going to do when it blows up in your face?”

“Apologize. Grovel. Be banished from his sight for all eternity. As long as he gets better, I can deal with the consequences.”

“Good. Now say that like you mean it.”





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