Chapter Thirty-Eight
Withdrawal
Angel walked back into the basement not long after Spike regained consciousness.
“Spike,” he said when he saw that he was awake.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a bit weird to rescue someone from being all tied up and such and then bleeding tie them back up?” Spike asked, his voice rising to a shout on the last few words.
“It’s for your own good.”
Spike struggled to sit up and snorted, “Yeah, right.”
“You’ve got to get off the Yenomi blood.”
“Why am I trussed up like a bleeding turkey then? If I’m in this bleeding cage I can’t get the stuff, can I? So why am I like this then? Is it turning you on, you sick bastard?”
Angel avoided Spike’s accusatory glare for a moment as he recalled doing something similar to Spike when he’d been a fledge and yes, it had more than turned him on. But that was Angelus. That wasn’t now. He glanced back at Spike.
“You’re in the straight-jacket because the only other person that I saw going through Yenomi withdrawal threw himself at the bars of the cell that confined him so hard that it killed him.”
“Oh,” said Spike weakly, “So I take it that this isn’t going to be a whole barrel of laughs then?”
Angel shook his head, “Sorry, Spike, but it won’t be.”
“Well, why can’t I just keep on having the stuff? I feel fine when I do.”
“Because within a year you’d be dead. If you died like that it’d kill Buffy.”
“Oh bollocks,” said Spike, “Can’t you like, just do a spell or something? I’m sure Red’ll…”
“Only you can do it, Spike. There’s no easy way.”
“There never bleeding is, is there? So what can I expect then, Peaches?”
“You’ll be given reduced amounts of the blood and the intervals between it will be increased until you’re clean.”
“Oh shite, Angel. I don’t know if I can take that.”
“You will, Spike. You have to.” Angel turned quickly and strode out of the room. “Get a grip,” he chastised himself, blinking back tears, “He’ll think you’ve gone soft.”
Spike lay back down as Angel left. He was terrified at what he had to look forward to. He was no coward but his stomach churned at the thought of the pain to come.
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It was an hour and a half since he’d last had blood and Spike was writhing on the floor, screaming in rage and pain. He sat up as he heard the door open and saw Angel walk in carrying a mug.
“About bleeding time,” he hissed, shaking uncontrollably.
Wordlessly Angel held the mug to Spike’s mouth so that he could drink it. He left right away without speaking. He couldn’t stand being the one to put Spike through this. He’d had his fill of the old ‘torture Spike’ routine years ago. His soul still seared with the memories of the abuse he’d reigned down on Spike when Drusilla had first brought him home.
“Cheers, mate,” said Spike bitterly at Angel’s disappearing back.
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It had been two days and all Spike was aware of was pain. Even when he was given the blood it no longer took it all away. It was there, a constant dragging ache in his guts. Angel had given him some food on the first day but since it stayed down all of ten minutes before being violently thrown back up, Spike had refused anything else.
He hadn’t seen Buffy since Angel had put him in the cage and he was glad of it because he couldn’t control his rage when offered the meagre portions of blood. He’d even managed to bite Angel’s hand one time. He’d laughed about it in the five minutes following taking the blood where coherent thought was possible.
Unbeknownst to Spike Buffy had seen the rage and pain that he was going through. The cage had closed circuit television, and though Angel had tried to prevent her from watching it, she found that she couldn’t bear not to. She went into the basement a couple of times when he was sleeping but never for long, not wanting to see the look in his eyes when she wouldn’t give him blood.
Brad, Laura and Moira had visited each evening but they hadn’t been allowed to see Spike. They certainly wouldn’t accept the way that
Spike was restrained but their presence was a welcome distraction to Buffy.
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Things took a turn for the worse on the fifth day of Spike’s withdrawal. He lost consciousness. At first Angel and Buffy thought that it would be a blessing as he wouldn’t be aware of the pain. It soon became apparent however, that the pain he was suffering had increased, not diminished, and their efforts to dribble some Yenomi blood into his mouth failed, as they couldn’t get him to swallow.
They panicked.
George had told them of the serious consequences of stopping the blood altogether before the pains had subsided.
“Angel, we’ve got to do something,” wailed Buffy as Spike curled up into a ball, groaning.
Angel stared at Buffy and then back down at Spike. He’d never felt so helpless in all of his unlife. His features vamped up briefly in frustration and he growled quietly.
“I’ll figure something out,” he whispered and he stalked out of the basement.
Angel punched the wall in his office as he tried and failed to make contact with George.
“That’s got to hurt.”
Angel whirled round, eyes blazing amber.
“Hey, man, it’s only me,” said Brad, holding up his hands, “Bad day, huh?”
Angel sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk, “It’s Spike. I think that he’s dying,” he said, his voice breaking.
“Christ, what’s gone wrong?”
“He’s lost consciousness and we can’t get him to swallow the blood. George told us that if we stopped the blood completely before the pains had gone that he’d die. I’ve tried to contact George for help but I can’t.”
To Brad’s horror Angel broke down and wept. How the hell did you comfort a vampire?
“Um…so if you can get the blood into him he should be okay?” asked Brad, deciding against physically comforting Angel. He wasn’t entirely sure that the vamp wouldn’t just rip his arm off if he touched him.
Angel nodded, wiping his eyes.
“So why don’t you inject it?”
Angel looked up sharply. “Inject it? I wouldn’t know how.”
“I do,” replied Brad, “So do you think that it’d work?”
“I…I...think so…um…I thought that you were a physiotherapist. How come you can give injections?”
“I trained as a nurse to start with but I couldn’t handle all those bedpans,” joked Brad, “Let’s go and do it then, okay?”
Angel suddenly thought of how Spike was restrained.
“I’ll just go and…er…get him ready,” he said quickly, “I’ll call for you when you can come.” With that he ran from the office.
“What?” asked Brad.
He hesitated and then jogged after him. “Christ, he’s quick,” he muttered as he rounded a corner and Angel was nowhere to be seen.
Luckily the door to the basement was just closing and Brad noticed the movement. He raced to the door and down the steps. He was brought up short by the sight in front of him.
“Jesus!” he exclaimed as he saw the straightjacketed figure of Spike writhing on the floor.
“I told you to wait,” snarled Angel.
“I’m not fucking surprised seeing how you’re treating him,” Brad snarled back. He noticed Buffy. “There’s a first aid kit in the trunk of my car - bring it.”
He threw her the keys. She caught them and ran to get it. He turned back to Angel.
“Get him out of that crap,” he ordered.
The big vampire seemed to shrink at his words. “It was for his own good. He would have hurt himself,” said Angel quietly.
“So would all addicts but we don’t do this to them, for God’s sake.”
Between them they stripped Spike of the straight-jacket. Brad glared at Angel when he saw that the coarse fabric had rubbed Spike raw in places. Angel kept his head down, avoiding his eyes. By the time Buffy returned Spike was free of all shackles but was still writhing and moaning piteously. She handed Brad the kit. He opened it and took out the largest syringe that he could find and a large bore needle.
“That’s some first aid kit,” said Buffy.
Brad glanced at her briefly, “Yeah, I’m a qualified nurse so I carry a bit more than Joe Public. Where’s the blood?”
Angel passed him the mug containing it. Brad dipped the needle in and pulled back on the syringe, drawing up the thick liquid.
“Hold him steady while I get this in. It will go in slowly because it’s so thick.”
Buffy held Spike’s shoulders and Angel held his arm out so that Brad could insert the needle into Spike’s vein in the crook of his elbow. Spike continued to be unaware of them and didn’t even flinch as the needle went in. Slowly Brad depressed the plunger on the syringe and the Yenomi was pushed into Spike’s blood stream.
“How much more?” asked Brad.
“Same again,” replied Angel.
Brad held the needle in the vein and removed the syringe, quickly drawing more Yenomi in to it before reattaching it to the needle and injecting it into Spike. As the syringe emptied for the second time Spike’s moaning and writhing stopped, replaced by gentler shudders. Angel picked up the jacket.
“No!” snapped Brad, “That might be how you do things in your weird world but you’re not putting that on him again.”
“But…”
“Angel, he’s right,” Buffy said, “He’s human and we’re treating him like a demon.” She burst into tears.
“He needs to be restrained,” insisted Angel.
“So he can be restrained but a bit more comfortably than that,” replied Brad, “And let’s get the poor guy cleaned up. He stinks.”
Angel carried Spike to the apartment and took him to the bathroom where Brad gently sponged him clean. He refused to let either Buffy or Angel help him. He was furious at the state that Spike was in. Buffy sat on the bed, huddled into the comforting bulk of Angel, crying as she saw what they’d done to Spike with outsider’s eyes. She was horrified; she’d fought demons and such for so long now that she was becoming as bad as them. No compassion, just get the job done. Although she hadn’t liked having to tie Spike up she’d allowed it because it was simply the easiest option. She thought of the delight that she’d felt in torturing and killing Nemol. How she’d laughed as he’d screamed when she hacked off his genitals before lopping off his head. She didn’t like herself very much right now. Angel’s thoughts were of a similar nature as Buffy’s as he held her in his arms and tried to soothe her.
Brad pulled a pair of sweatpants onto Spike before calling Angel to carry him to the bed.
“So how do we restrain him?” asked Angel hesitantly, avoiding Brad’s eye.
“Well, he’s not looking likely to be trying anything right now so why don’t we just tie his wrists to the frame of the bed? We can give him enough slack to move a little and sit up if he wants but not enough to hurt himself,” suggested Brad, “With straps if you have them, not freaking chains.”
“Okay.”
Angel left the room to go and find something. Buffy approached Spike and Brad cautiously, feeling as if she had no right to be there after being part of what Brad thought so abhorrent. Brad saw her uncertainty and felt bad at being so harsh. They’d inhabited vastly different worlds up to now and he’d no real right to judge them.
“Sit with him, Buffy. He may be aware of you if you talk to him,” he said, gently holding his hand out to her.
She took it gratefully, tears brimming in her eyes once more. “I can’t believe we treated him like that,” she whispered, barely audibly.
“Yeah, I reckon your ‘normal’ is just a bit different to mine,” said Brad, not unkindly.
Buffy reached out and stroked Spike’s face, which was damp with sweat. “Oh, Spike,” she murmured.
Angel returned with some strong nylon straps and some strips of blanket.
“I thought the cloth would stop the straps from chafing his wrists,” he said.
“Good thinking,” replied Brad, taking them from him.
Soon Spike was once more restrained but in a much more comfortable manner. The straps on his wrists were not so tight that he couldn’t move at all but not slack enough for him to be able to hurt himself. They were fastened to the frame of the bed about halfway down its length, not that any of this immediately mattered to Spike. Although still shaking and groaning quietly, he was oblivious to them all.
“How often does he need the blood?” asked Brad.
“Every twelve hours now,” replied Angel, “He’ll be clean in a few more days. George said that once the pain and the trembling has gone that we should stop giving him the blood.”
“You’ve brought him down from a mug full every hour to the few teaspoonfuls that I just gave him pretty quickly. It would have been easier on him to do it more gradually,” said Brad.
“We didn’t have enough blood to do it any other way. It’s not available in this dimension and is difficult to get even in its home one,” said Buffy.
“Right,” said Brad. The talk of dimensions reminded him of how ignorant he was of their world. “They talk like it’s normal.” “I’ll come and inject the blood when he needs it. It won’t interfere with work.”
“Thank you,” said Buffy and Angel in unison.
“Look after him, okay?” said Brad as he left.
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Carol the world's fastest beta!! Plus she makes me look good!! Thanks to everyone of you for reading and especially those taking the time to review! :)