Chapter Twenty-One
You’ll Never Be Normal…
Spike woke first, his heart missing a beat as he saw Buffy lying in his arms. He didn’t move; he just enjoyed watching her sleep. Some time afterwards she stirred - stretching and yawning before opening her beautiful green eyes to meet his gaze.
“Mornin’ pet,” said Spike, gently dropping a kiss on her brow.
“Morning.” She sat up and ran a hand through her hair, feeling how tangled it was. “God, I must look terrible.”
“You could never look terrible, love.”
“Sweet talker.” She reached up and kissed him properly on the lips.
“Erm…look, are you going to go and get a shower?” asked Spike.
“What? Now? Oh no, am I stinky Buffy?”
“’Course not, it’s just I …er…need to…um…get a nurse and I’d like for you not to be here.”
“What do you need a nurse for? Can I do it?”
“No!” he said more sharply than he intended, “Sorry pet, but there are some things that I never want to have you do for me, okay?”
“Shit!” Buffy realised what he needed and kicked herself for offering to help. “No problem. I’ll go now, okay?” She unlocked the door and then went to the bathroom.
“Thanks.”
He pressed the buzzer with relief. He’d been told not to try to use the wheelchair until Brad was with him later on. He raised the top half of the bed until he was sitting up.
Buffy made sure that she’d been out of the room long enough for Spike to have been tended to before she left the bathroom. As she walked backed to him she picked up the menu from a table and looked at it.
“So what do you want for breakfast?”
“Um…I normally just have a bit of toast,” replied Spike. He hadn’t really had much of an appetite since he’d been injured.
“Toast? That’s not good enough.” She sat on the bed next to him. “Let’s see what we’re going to have. Aha! Yes, pancakes. Today we will have pancakes,” she declared.
He grinned at her, “Gotta be with maple syrup then.”
“That’s a given,” replied Buffy as she picked up the phone to place the order.
Before they could arrive one of the resident doctors tapped on the door and walked in.
“Good morning. How are things?”
“Morning,” said Spike, “Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.”
Daniel regarded Spike for a moment. His eyes certainly looked brighter and more alive than he’d ever seen them. A quick glance at Buffy and he correctly guessed the reason behind it.
“Glad to hear it. I’m taking you off the drip now but I still need you to keep taking plenty of fluids, okay?”
Spike nodded.
“Moira will be in to see you later today. I’ve asked Brad to do just one session of therapy with you for a couple of days so that we can see how your back copes.”
“Why’s Moira coming to see me? Has my bill not been paid or something?”
Daniel chuckled, “I’m sure your bill is just fine. Moira’s the manager but she is also our psychiatrist. She needs to have a bit of a chat with you about your attempted suicide.”
Spike winced in shame as he heard the last two words. How could he have been so bloody weak?
“Oh, right,” he said, “That’s okay then, I suppose.” He cringed inwardly at the thought of having to talk about what he’d done. He just wanted to try to forget about it.
The doctor left after injecting Spike with his meds and the breakfast arrived shortly afterwards. It was put on the table that could be swung over Spike’s bed. Buffy joined him there.
“Oh yum! Come on, admit it. This is way better than toast,” said Buffy, feeding him a piece of pancake dripping with maple syrup, then kissing away some that had dribbled onto his chin.
Spike smiled at her, “Having you in my bed is way better than anything.”
“Should think so too.” She kissed his lips lightly before turning her attention back to the plate of pancakes.
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After they’d eaten their breakfast Spike got dressed in his sweats, ready for when Brad to came to get him for his physiotherapy session. He refused Buffy’s offer of help, determined not to be tempted to rely on her. Her heart went out to him as he pushed and pulled his unresponsive legs into his pants, but she was careful not to show it. Instead she quipped about the fact he still went commando.
“Morning Spike, hi Buffy,” said Brad when he arrived. He looked at Spike. “Ready for action?”
“I guess,” said Spike a little doubtfully.
“Okay, let’s get you into your chair,” said Brad, “And before you say it, yes, you can do it on your own. I wanted to be here just in case you needed any help.”
Spike glanced up at him. He hadn’t been thinking that at all. He was actually nervous of getting into the thing after falling. But his woefully battered pride kicked in and he leaned out and pulled his chair into position. He double-checked that the brake was set and manoeuvred himself into it. He looked up at Brad once he was settled and knew that Brad had known how he’d felt and had played him a little to get him to do it alone. Spike gave him a small nod of thanks and they went to leave for the therapy room.
“Is there anything that I can do to help?” Buffy called after them.
Brad turned back to her, “If you come over in an hour I’ll show you how to give him a massage if you like? The more stimulation his body gets the better.”
“I’ll be bloody stimulated all right,” thought Spike with a grin, “She only has to touch me, let alone massage me.”
“Okay, I’ll see you both in an hour then,” replied Buffy, pleased that Brad could give her something useful to do.
00000000
Moira paced up and down in her office. Angel was due to arrive for a meeting and she felt nervous. She’d called him to inform him of Spike’s attempted suicide and requested the meeting so that she could reassure him that they would never let the opportunity arise again. She’d told him that Buffy was now staying with him and had suggested that he wait until after their meeting today before seeing Spike. The intercom on her desk bleeped. Moira flicked a switch.
“Yes, Pamela?”
“Mr. Angel is here, shall I send him in?”
“Yes, thank you.”
A moment later there was a tap at the door and in walked Angel. Moira went towards him, hand outstretched.
“Angel, thank you for coming.”
“What the hell happened, Moira?” he asked, ignoring her hand, “You’re supposed to be looking after him.”
She let her hand fall back to her side.
“Please have a seat.” She indicated the pair of armchairs.
Angel hesitated briefly and then sat down.
“Firstly, as I told you on the telephone, we’re horrified that we didn’t foresee or prevent what happened to Spike. At Rosedene we’ve always prided ourselves on our informal approach, allowing patients to have more freedom than if they were in a regular hospital. When a person is paralysed they often lack self-worth. By allowing them less constraints they can feel more in control of their situation.”
Angel shifted in his seat.
“Look Moira, I’m sorry but I’m not here to listen to you spout advertising jargon for the place at me. I need to know exactly what happened with Spike and how you’re going to prevent it from happening again.”
Moira took a deep breath. “When he first arrived I was worried about his state of mind. As he started to see a little progress he seemed to be much happier. His fall was, I fear, the catalyst. The freedom that his wheelchair offered him was taken away, albeit temporarily. It seems that since the fall that he’d been hiding his pills instead of taking them and then he took them all.”
“How did you not notice that he hadn’t taken them?” snapped Angel.
“We offered him a level of trust by not standing over him and watching him take them. It’s something that we won’t do again with any of our patients. We’re giving Spike his meds by injection from now on,” said Moira, “I know that this will sound like an excuse but he hid the depth of his depression successfully from us all.”
Angel sighed, taking a deep unnecessary breath, a habit that he’d picked up from Spike. “That’s okay. I know what he can be like. That’s how he came to be here in the first place.”
“What? Has he attempted suicide before?”
“He…well…he got into a fight with some…lowlifes and one of them stabbed him and that’s what paralysed him,” said Angel.
“But how is that the same as taking the pills?”
“Because it was a fight that he knew he couldn’t win. He went looking for it. He expected to be killed and he would have been if I hadn’t got there when I did.”
“And he got into that fight because…?”
“Damn, what do I tell her now?” Angel thought frantically. “He…um…had some…er…news…that upset him,” he said lamely.
“I think that it would have been prudent of you to have shared that information when he was admitted. If we had known that he had harboured thoughts of dying we would have watched him more closely,” said Moira, feeling on a stronger footing now.
“Relax, Moira, I’m not going to sue. He didn’t die and he certainly can be tricky, so it wasn’t your fault that he tried.”
“Thank you,” said Moira, feeling the tension drain from her a little. A lawsuit would seriously damage Rosedene’s reputation.
Angel smiled, “So it was Buffy who found him and he’s letting her stay with him now?”
“Yes. She had been sneaking into his room at night to see him. Thank God that she did. He seems happy to have her back in his life.”
“That’s just what he needed. Spike’s always been boneheaded about things but even I could see that he needed to be with Buffy,” said Angel with a pang. It still hurt that Buffy wanted Spike and not him. “Is it okay for me to go and see him now?”
Moira glanced at her watch, “He’ll be in therapy for an hour. You could join me for lunch perhaps?”
“Er…I’ve already eaten, thanks, but I could maybe have a drink with you while you have yours if you’d like?”
She smiled, “That would be lovely. Shall we go?”
Angel nodded and they got up and made their way to the dining room.
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Buffy watched Spike for a moment before stepping into the physiotherapy room; he was working with Brad using some weights. He pulled on a handle and that lifted the weights up, strengthening his upper body. His face was covered with sweat and flushed a little pink with his exertions. It was strange to see Spike with colour in his cheeks. His hair was damp and hanging in soft curls that she just knew he’d hate. She caught Brad’s eye and walked in when he nodded at her.
“That’s great, Spike. That’s enough for today,” said Brad.
“Should bleeding think so,” grumbled Spike, but as always the physical exercise boosted him. “Hey, Buffy,” he added when he saw her.
“Did it go all right?” she asked him.
Spike glanced at Brad. “He seems to think so. I’m not so sure that my legs have improved though.”
“Spike, it’s only a week since you pulled your back. Give your body a chance,” admonished Brad gently.
“Okay, let’s get you on that bed and I’ll give you a massage and show Buffy what to do, alright?”
“Yeah,” said Spike, rolling his chair back over to the bed where earlier he and Brad had done his leg exercises. He positioned the chair carefully and lifted himself onto the bed, pulling his legs on until they were straight in front of him before laying down flat.
Brad went to work, massaging the muscles of his legs, working his hands over them firmly whilst Buffy paid close attention.
“Here, now you have a go,” said Brad.
Buffy was tentative at first but under Brad’s guidance she soon got the hang of it. Spike was desperately trying not to get aroused as her small hands kneaded his body. He was relieved when Brad told him to lie on his stomach. Spike rolled his torso over and Brad held his legs by the ankles and made them move in concert with him. Brad then worked on Spike’s legs and lower back, once again showing Buffy how to do it.
“If you can do that morning and evening for him I’m sure that it will do a lot of good.”
“I will do, Brad,” said Buffy with a smile, “Perhaps there can be oil involved?”
“Bloody hell, woman,” muttered Spike, making both Buffy and Brad laugh.
“Okay, so I’ll see you again tomorrow morning,” said Brad, “I’ll have a word with the doctors about doing two session daily again as I think you’re up to it.”
“Cheers, mate,” said Spike, rolling over and pulling his legs to the side of the bed before hauling himself into his chair. Buffy had to turn away as tears pricked her eyes. She loved him so much and it hurt to see him this way.
“Right, pet, shall we go?”
She blinked rapidly, “Yes, let’s go. See you, Brad, and thanks for showing me what to do.”
“Bye,” said Brad as he went away to find his next patient.
Buffy walked side by side with Spike, matching her pace to his as he wheeled himself along. They arrived at the door to his suite at the same time as Angel did.
“Nice of you to drop by, Peaches,” said Spike sarcastically.
He pushed the door open and went inside. Buffy and Angel exchanged looks. What was that all about? They followed him in. Spike had positioned himself with his back towards them, looking out into the garden.
“How are you feeling, Spike?” asked Angel, unsure of what else to say.
Spike gritted his teeth and bit back a retort. “So why are you here exactly?”
“What do you mean?” asked Angel in confusion, “I’ve just come to see you like I have for the past few weeks.”
“No reason for you to come now though, is there?” snapped Spike, still facing away from them.
“Spike, why are you being like this to Angel?” asked Buffy sharply.
“Yeah, Spike,” said Angel, “What’s gotten into you?”
Spike rolled a yard or so closer to the garden door. “Well, you don’t need to report back to Buffy anymore so you don’t have to keep coming.”
“What?” said Buffy and Angel in unison.
“You heard,” said Spike bitterly, “And don’t act all surprised, Buffy. You told me yourself.”
He knew that he was being unfair and unreasonable but he couldn’t help it. As pleased as he was to have Buffy by his side, seeing Angel striding down the corridor hit him hard, reminding him yet again of what he’d lost. He’d loved being a vampire, with the power it gave. The fact that he only had himself to blame for being in the wheelchair didn’t help.
“What did you tell him?” Angel snarled, turning to Buffy, eyes flashing amber. Bad enough that she didn’t want him but now she was trying to take Spike away from him too. Spike was the only friend that he had left.
“Hey,” said Buffy, stepping back a pace to try to diffuse the situation, despite wanting to punch him in the mouth for yelling at her. “I haven’t said anything.” She marched over to Spike, grabbing his chair and spinning him around to face her. “What are you doing? I never said anything like that.”
Spike recoiled from the fury in her eyes. If he still thought that there was a chance that she was with him out of pity it was dispelled then. The look she gave him was the same one he’d seen so often before, when he was her equal and had pissed her off.
“Um.”
“I’m waiting,” snapped Buffy, tapping her foot and folding her arms across her chest.
Spike stared at her. Most people, Angel included, had just humoured him all the time since the injury. But Buffy wasn’t humouring him – she looked furious.
“Come on, Spike. When, exactly, did I say that Angel only was seeing you to report back to me?”
“Er.” He wished he hadn’t said anything now. “One night when I wasn’t really asleep. You said it then.”
“I seem to recall that I said that I wished you would allow Angel to visit because hearing him talk about you made me feel closer to you,” shouted Buffy.
“Buff,” cautioned Angel, putting a hand on her arm.
She shook him off angrily, “No, Angel, he can’t just accuse you of that when it isn’t true.”
“But…”
“But what? Don’t tell little Spikey the truth ‘cause he can’t walk?”
Both Spike and Angel flinched at her words. She turned towards Spike.
“Don’t push Angel away because you’re angry at what you’re going through. It’s not fair.” She stomped past him, flung open the garden door and stormed out.
“Bollocks,” said Spike, putting his head into his hands.
“She’ll be back,” said Angel quietly.
Spike looked up, “Christ mate, I’m sorry, it’s just…”
“I know,” interrupted Angel.
“No, you bloody well don’t,” snapped Spike, “If I’d said what I just had and got Buffy so upset before I fucked up my legs, would you have just said ‘I know’?”
Angel smiled at him ruefully, “No, I’d’ve hit you through the window and out into the sun.”
“Exactly,” said Spike, “Hey! Out into the sun? That’s a bit harsh.”
“Yeah, well,” Angel shrugged, “You can be pretty infuriating at times - well most of the time.”
Both laughed a little.
“It’s just seeing you walk in here, free as a bird, and I’m in here for God knows how long. They treat me like I’m a baby, especially now they’re watching me even more closely,” said Spike.
“I guess the answer to that is to stop acting like a baby then.”
Spike turned his chair around to see Buffy walking back in from the garden.
“I’m sorry, pet,” he said.
“I thought I told you to stop saying sorry? Mind you, I think that this one might be called for.”
She went over and took hold of his hand. He gripped it fiercely. God, he felt such a mess. One minute delighted to be alive whether broken or not, the next longing to be a vampire again. But mostly he just wanted to be healthy again, free of the hateful chair, free of Rosedene, free of restrictions.
Spike smiled weakly, “It’s just…” He felt like a right ponce for saying it, “I want to be normal – to be treated like normal.”
“You’ll never be normal, Spike,” said Angel.
“Still with the soddin’ harsh!” retorted Spike.
Buffy shot Angel a glare but saw that he was smiling widely. A strange look for Angel.
“What’s going on, Angel?” she asked.
Spike looked up at him, craning his neck. The git didn’t get any shorter.
“Do you think we can all sit down now that Spike’s had his little tantrum?” asked Angel, deciding that he definitely had had enough of treating him with kid gloves.
“Already sitting, you sod,” grumbled Spike but he was smirking a bit as he spoke.
Buffy sat in an armchair so that Spike could wheel himself next to her. She took his hand once more. Angel sat opposite them on the couch.
“Spike, do you remember how I said that I thought that you hadn’t returned to the human you were because of your eyesight?”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Hang on a minute, what are you talking about?” asked Buffy.
Angel grinned at Spike, “See, I didn’t report back to her.”
“Okay, okay, I said I was sorry,” replied Spike with a chuckle.
“What are you two going on about?” asked Buffy in frustration, “What’s wrong with his eyesight?”
“Absolutely nothing,” said Spike.
“That’s the whole point,” added Angel.
They started to laugh and pretty soon they found that they couldn’t stop. Each time they saw Buffy’s face as she tried to figure out what they had meant, they just laughed louder. Buffy ended up joining in despite herself - it was infectious.
“Stop…can’t…breathe,” gasped Spike, holding his aching ribs.
But the thought struck Buffy and Angel as hilarious and prompted more gales of laughter, not less. Eventually all three managed to get their giggles under control and, with much snorting and wiping of eyes, they finally stopped.
“So?” asked Buffy, looking at Angel.
“Well, I’ve been doing a bit of research into our William over there. I got Willow and Giles to help me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” said Buffy.
“Or me?” added Spike.
“I didn’t want to say anything until we knew for sure,” said Angel.
Spike swallowed hard. “What the hell has Peaches found out?”
Buffy gritted her teeth, “Come on, Angel. For God’s sake, spit it out!”
Angel smiled and from his pocked pulled out a hip flask. “I think that you might need a drink first.”
“Eew! I so do not!” exclaimed Buffy with a grimace.
“I was talking about Spike,” he said, shaking his head at her.
“But should he…?”
“Give it here,” said Spike, reaching out for it.
Angel waited until he’d taken a good swig before he started to speak.
“The thing is, the Shanshu Prophecy…”
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol - so amazingly fast at getting chapters back to me :) *big hugs*