Chapter One

See Yer Later, Peaches

“Arrrgghh!”

The scream ripped through the quiet. Angel woke with a start and leapt out of bed, looking around wildly.

“An…gel…Christ…what’s…hap…arrrgghh!”

The words disappeared into another blood curdling scream.

“Spike!” yelled Angel.

He raced out of his room and into the one opposite. Spike was writhing on the bed, face contorted with pain. Angel hesitated, unsure of what to make of the scene before his eyes. Lights were dancing around Spike’s body - they looked like they were actually going inside of him.

“Spike!” Angel cried again and ran to the bed, hands outstretched and ready to pull Spike away from whatever the weird lights were. As he reached the bed the lights pulsed and, with a flash of blinding light, Angel was flung backwards through the air, finally crashing into the wall with such force that he was unconscious before he slid to the floor.

Spike’s movements became weaker as the lights continued to dance around and within his body. His cries became quiet until, as the lights faded away, he too lost consciousness.

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Angel groaned and put a hand to his throbbing head. He struggled to focus his thoughts sufficiently to remember what had happened. He rolled over until he was on his knees and then used the wall to help him stand. He looked around vaguely, getting his bearings. He froze as he saw Spike’s inert body on the bed, suddenly remembering the strange lights. He walked over to him.

“Spike? Are you all right? Spike!”

When he got no response he put out a hand so he could shake him. As his fingers touched Spike’s arm he recoiled.

“What the hell?”

He touched him again. He hadn’t been mistaken. Spike was warm, more than room temperature warm. Angel peered closely at Spike’s face. It was no longer deathly pale. There was a faint hint of pink in his complexion.

“My God,” whispered Angel, backing away from the bed.

He ran from the bedroom, hurtling down the staircase until he was in the foyer of the Old Hyperion Hotel that served once more as his home. He sat on the seats in the middle of it and put his head in his hands.

“No, it can’t be,” he said shaking his head slowly, his voice echoing in the empty space.

He closed his eyes as he thought of the previous weeks. After the battle with the army of demons that the Senior Partners had unleashed on them, only he and Spike had survived. Illyria had saved both of their lives but at the cost of her own. Poor Gunn had barely made the final fight and lasted only moments. Wesley died before that final push. They should never have let the humans fight; they were never going to be strong enough. Hell, he and Spike had barely made it. They’d hid in the sewers for a week, feeding on whatever vermin they could catch, and letting their wounds heal.

They finally decided to risk getting to Angel’s hotel, so Angel was kind of back where he started years ago. They’d expected to be hunted down but, to their amazement, they found Wolfram and Hart’s LA branch had closed. Against all of the odds they had won.

Once they were fully recovered they’d started taking cases again. Sure he and Spike still bickered, they had right from the start after Drusilla sired Spike in 1880. But they found that they could work well alongside each other, perhaps because they only had each other.

Angel lifted his head from his hands and looked back up the stairs. He felt a surge of resentment towards the bleach-blond haired man. Yes, that’s what Spike was now. There was only one explanation for what he’d seen and felt. The Shanshu Prophecy must have been genuine and Spike had been returned to his human form, the demon within banished.

“Why was it him and not me? We fought side by side to the end. So why did it choose him?” thought Angel bitterly, although he could guess the answer. It was because Spike had already died once saving the world when he’d closed the Sunnydale Hellmouth.

Angel sighed and walked slowly back up the staircase. He hesitantly opened the door and glanced at the bed. It was empty.

“Spike? Are you there?” he called.

“Er…yeah…I’m in the bathroom,” replied Spike, his voice wavering.

Angel walked to the en suite bathroom and saw Spike. He was standing in front of the mirror staring at it. Angel felt another pang. There was the irrefutable proof that Spike was no longer a vampire - he had a reflection.

Spike turned to Angel, eyes wide with disbelief. “Christ, mate,” he said weakly, “What do yer reckon to this?”

“Shanshu,” replied Angel quietly.

“What? You too? God, this is unreal,” gasped Spike.

Angel stepped closer to Spike until he was standing beside him.

“No, not me.” He nodded at the mirror.

Spike looked back at it. Angel was standing close enough to brush his shoulder but in the mirror Spike was standing alone.

“Why me?” asked Spike.

Angel shrugged.

“So it’s true then? I am a real boy again?”

Angel nodded.

“Bloody hell,” said Spike with feeling.

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The two stared at each other, neither knowing quite what to say. A slightly built blond man and bulkier, taller, brown haired vampire.

“So are you going to find Buffy then?” asked Angel, cringing at the whining tone of his voice.

“What?” said Spike. He shook his head, “Um…I don’t think so.”

Angel couldn’t believe his ears. He thought he’d be on the first plane to Italy.

“Why not?”

“Well, nothing’s changed, has it? She still thinks I’m dead and she’s still with the Immortal. I thought we were moving on?” replied Spike, turning back to look at the mirror again. He couldn’t get over having a reflection.

“You don’t call being made human a change?” asked Angel, “And stop staring at yourself. It’s freaking me out.”

“Jealous?” sneered Spike.

“No,” said Angel grumpily. “Of course I am!”

Spike walked out of the bathroom, pushing past Angel. He started pacing back and forth in the bedroom. Angel followed him and sat down on the bed.

“Will you stand still? You’re making me dizzy,” complained Angel.

Spike stood still. He couldn’t get his head round this. He’d fought Angel for the Cup of Perpetual Torment because he’d been so desperate to know that the Shanshu was real and to beat Angel for it. That test had been a fake but now the prophecy had made him human and all he felt was empty and terrified.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped at Angel, “Like I’m a bleeding freak.”

He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him with all his might. He stopped short when he realised the door hadn’t smashed into pieces as was his intent but merely closed with a crash.

“What he f…? Oh shite.” He realised that he no longer had his vampire strength. He strode down the staircase and to the entrance door.

“Spike, where are you going?” asked Angel, running after him.

Spike glanced back at Angel. He couldn’t stand the way he was looking at him, all sort of hurt because it wasn’t him who was human.

“I’m going out,” Spike laughed, a touch hysterically.

“Wait, Spike. Look, stay here, and let’s talk this through for a while. It’s been a shock for you,” said Angel.

He could read Spike like a book after so long. He’d never been any good at concealing his emotions and Angel knew that Spike was halfway to freaking out completely.

“Gonna stop me?” said Spike as he opened the door and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

Angel instinctively stepped back.

“See yer later, Peaches.”

tbc...

Chapter Two

I Don’t Do Apologies, Mate

Spike didn’t know where he was going. He just walked. He squinted in the bright light, his eyes unused to its glare. He drew a few strange looks with his snowy white hair and pale complexion. He caught a glimpse of himself – he looked like a ghost. He smiled; no wonder Angel had called him Casper when he had been incorporeal. His mind was reeling.

“Okay, I’m human. Right. Got that. So what do I do about it?”

He shook his head violently.

“Nope. I haven’t got it. This is just too weird. I need a soddin’ drink.”

He stood still and took notice of where he was for the first time. He realised that he wasn’t far from a demon bar that Lorne used to run before the big fight. Old Green Jeans hadn’t been seen since, and Spike hadn’t been in under its new ownership.

He went to walk in and found his way blocked by two huge tuxedo wearing demons.

“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t come in,” said the larger of the two, politely.

“Wot do yer mean, I can’t come in?”

“Well, sir, the club isn’t for your kind, I’m afraid.” Again with the very polite tone that was starting to piss Spike off.

“Isn’t that kind of racist?” smirked Spike, “and since when has a demon bar gotten fussy about who they let in?”

“We haven’t allowed humans into the club ever since the Slayer numbers got increased, sir.”

Spike chuckled, “Well, I’m obviously not a bloody slayer, am I? Something about being the wrong soddin’ sex.”

The demon who had remained silent so far stepped forwards and put a hand on Spike’s chest.

“My colleague has told you. We have a strict no-human rule. Now clear off…sir.”

“Get yer ‘and off of me, yer git,” said Spike, looking down at the enormous scaly fingers resting on his chest.

“Or what, sir?” said the demon, keeping its hand where it was.

“Or I’ll…”

He got no further as the demon pushed him forcibly, lifting him off his feet and smashing him into the wall opposite. Spike slid down the wall, like in a cartoon, all breath knocked out of him. As he lay there panting, and in some considerable pain, the demon strolled casually over.

“Or you’ll what?”

Spike noticed he’d omitted the ‘sir’. He just admitted defeat and shook his head. The demon offered Spike his hand to help him up. He hesitated before taking it but once on his feet he glanced up at the demon and quailed at what he saw there. It was laughing at him. Spike clenched his fists but turned and walked away. The first time he’d avoided a scrap since 1880.

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A few streets away Spike found what he was looking for. A bar. It was suitably seedy and was filled with dodgy looking humans. Some real lowlifes, but Spike didn’t care. He pulled up a stool and sat on it, then reached out his hand but thought better of helping himself to some peanuts from the dish on the bar.

“Double JD,” Spike told the barman, “and don’t go too far away.”

He left a twenty-dollar bill on the counter to keep the barman’s interest. The first was swiftly followed by another and another, and before Spike knew it he was totally wasted.

“Hmm, that’s odd. I normally need to drink much more than this to get pissed.” He felt a pang - another thing that he’d lost. Now he got drunk as quick as a pansy.

“I don’t want to be William again,” slurred Spike, ogling the woman on the next stool. “I’m Shhpike, I want to shhtay Shhpike. That’s okay, ishn’t it?”

He lost his balance a little and put his hand on her arm to keep from falling off his stool.

“Get your damn hands off of her,” snarled a voice.

Spike blearily looked up, “Huh?”

“I said get your hands off my woman.”

“Oh, she’s your woman? I’m shhorry, I thought she was just ‘a’ woman.” He chuckled a bit.

The man put his hand on Spike’s shoulder, “I’m warning you, pal,” he growled.

Spike, still smarting from backing down with the demon, swung his left fist and caught the man on the side of his face. Unfortunately for Spike it glanced off without much effect and the momentum made him fall off his stool.

“Oops,” he giggled as he lay on the floor in a heap, “Oh shite,” he added as the boyfriend hauled him up to his feet by the collar of his duster.

“Take it outside, boys,” said the barman with the calm manner of one who’s seen it all before.

Spike, who stood swaying where the man had put him, looked around hazily.

“Outside? Okay, I can do that. Where’s the door?” He took a few steps one way.

“It’s over here,” snarled the man, roughly spinning him round and pointing him towards the door.

“Oh,” said Spike, struggling to stay upright and feeling distinctly ‘green’.

“Look, Burt, just leave him. He’s just drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing,” said the woman at the centre of the argument.

“Don’t need yer to stick up for me, luv,” snapped Spike, “Come on then, Burt, outside it is.”

He pushed the big man in the chest in a similar fashion to the way the demon had pushed him but he was so unsteady that it had no effect at all. Spike weaved his way out into the alley closely followed by Burt.

“For God’s sake, don’t kill him,” shouted Burt’s girlfriend as the door swung closed behind them.

Burt looked at the man swaying in front of him and with her words ringing in his ears, he offered Spike an ‘out’.

“Look, pal, she’s right. You’ve just had too much to drink. I don’t want to beat you up so why don’t you just say sorry and go home?”

Spike’s reply was another punch to the man’s face. The fresh air had sobered him a little and this time he hit Burt squarely and he staggered backwards.

“I don’t do apologies, mate.”

With a roar Burt came at Spike and soon it developed into a very one-sided fight. Spike took at least two punches to every one he threw and he was still so drunk that half of his shots missed altogether. A vicious jab to his stomach put Spike on his knees, Burt’s kick to his jaw put him out like a light. He followed up with a couple of kicks to Spike’s ribs and went into the bar without a backwards glance.

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Angel paced restlessly about the hotel, desperate for night to fall. Spike had been gone for hours and he just knew that he was in trouble. Angel had wandered through the sewers but knew that Spike would be walking the streets. Hell, why wouldn’t he be out in the sunlight after years of skulking in the shadows? Angel kicked a chair in frustration and cursed as it broke. Not that it mattered; with only the two of them left from his team there were more than enough chairs to go around.

The loss of his friends hit him anew, guilt at including them in his scheme adding weight to his grief. Spike, once he got used to being human again, would leave LA - Angel was sure of it. He’d never liked the place and whether he decided to go to find Buffy in the end or not, Angel knew he’d leave. He hated to admit it but he didn’t want Spike to go. He’d never tell him but he respected him for what he’d done over the past few years. Spike had done a lot of good even before he’d gotten his soul.

Angel glanced at the window - at last dusk had fallen. He walked out of the doors and sniffed the air, trying to find Spike’s scent with his enhanced vampire senses. He caught the faintest whiff of him and jogged along following it, stopping every now and then to make sure he was still on the right path. He wasn’t entirely surprised when the trail led him to Lorne’s old bar. Spike usually tried to find the answer to his problems at the bottom of a bottle. His scent was very strong outside the bar.

“Hey, have you seen a guy? About yay tall,” Angel asked the doorman, or should that be door demons, holding his hand up at his shoulder height. “Bleach blond hair,” he added.

“Yeah, dude tried to get in. He didn’t like our no-human policy. Said we were racists, didn’t he?” said one, both of them laughing at the memory.

“We persuaded him to go elsewhere,” added the second, “He went off that way.” He pointed to the right.

“Okay, thanks,” said Angel.

“Make sure you don’t bite him. Wouldn’t want that hair to be immortal,” laughed the first demon.

Normally Angel would enjoy Spike being ridiculed but he’d just gotten a nostril full of a strong smell of blood – Spike’s blood. So he just waved a hand in acknowledgement and ran down the street as fast as he could.

The alley was pitch dark and Angel vamped up his features to take advantage of the improved night vision that his demonic visage offered. He walked slowly along, looking from side to side. He heard Spike before he saw him, a low groan giving away his position. Angel rushed over to him.

“Christ, Spike,” he muttered as he saw the battered body on the ground in front of him.

Angel knelt by his side. By now the smell of blood was joined by the stench of liquor, confirming Angel’s suspicions.

“Hey, Spike,” he said gently.

Spike groaned again but didn’t move. Angel put his hands under Spike’s arms and pulled him so that he was lying flat out instead of curled up in a ball. He quickly checked him over for injury; he couldn’t find any breaks. When he touched Spike’s ribs he was rewarded with another moan, louder this time, and so he suspected that there might be a crack or at least some bad bruising.

“Better get you home.”

Angel put his arm around Spike and lifted him up. The movement made Spike open his eyes, his vision swimming in and out of focus. Squinting hard he finally recognised Angel.

“Wot are you doin’ ‘ere?”

“Saving your sorry ass again,” grumbled Angel, “Come on and help me, Spike. You can walk.”

“Walk? Yeah, walking,” mumbled Spike and he tried to move his legs in time with Angel’s. He wasn’t much use and Angel ended up practically carrying him home.

Once there, Angel laid Spike on his bed and pulled of his boots. He took off the leather duster and blood stained t-shirt but drew the line at removing his jeans. He knew Spike had a tendency to go commando and that was a sight he could live without seeing.

“Room’s spinning. Angel, make it stop,” said Spike weakly.

“I can’t help you with that, Spike. You shouldn’t have drunk so much,” replied Angel with a smile.

Spike was going to have the mother of all hangovers, on top of his beating. He was about to ask what creature had done the damage when he realised that Spike was either fast asleep or unconscious, whichever way you wanted to look at it. He pulled the covers over him and left him to rest.

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“Uh…my head,” moaned Spike piteously hours later, the slightest movement bringing another bolt of pain. Eventually he managed to sit up, wincing at his sore ribs.

“Way to go, Spike,” he muttered.

It was about another half hour before he managed to stagger from the bed to the bathroom. He held onto the wall to steady himself, glancing at the mirror.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

He looked a little different than when he first gazed upon his new reflection. One eye was swollen almost completely shut, and his nose was grazed and bloody. He touched it gently but, although sore, it didn’t appear to be broken. His body ached all over. He pulled off his jeans – Angel was right about the lack of underwear – and climbed into the shower. He ran it as hot as he could possibly bear and when he got out he felt a bit more human. He smirked at the irony.

Spike got dressed and wandered downstairs to find Angel. He was in his office, his feet up on the desk, sipping warmed blood from a mug. The smell of the blood turned Spike’s stomach.

“Mornin’,” he said weakly.

“If you haven’t already noticed, it’s dark outside,” corrected Angel in the tone of voice that never failed to set Spike’s teeth on edge.

“Um…well…evenin’ then,” snapped Spike, leaning against the door frame for support, “I thought I’d slept longer than that.”

“You did. This is the next evening, you moron. I don’t think a concussion constitutes sleeping.”

“Oh.”

Spike decided that sitting was a better option and walked to the chair opposite Angel. He tried to swagger but it was more of a stagger. He flopped down into it with a sigh.

“What was it that jumped you? A Neleh demon? There have been reports of some in town.”

Spike shook his head and then swallowed hard as the movement made him feel queasy.

“What then?” asked Angel, “Has something else moved in?”

Spike almost shook his head again but stopped himself in time.

“No,” he said quietly.

“It can’t have been an Orolon as it would have eaten your head.”

“For God’s sake, Angel, shut up!” shouted Spike, eyes narrowing, “It was a bloke, okay? An ordinary human bloke.”

Angel blinked.

“Shut up!” yelled Spike.

“I haven’t said anything,” protested Angel.

“Yer don’t need to, it’s written all over yer face.”

“So what am I saying then? The prophecy obviously gave you psychic abilities, too,” sneered Angel.

“Bloody pathetic Spike, got beat up by a bloody human. Worse than when he was a soddin’ fledge. That’s wot you’re thinking.”

Angel stared at him again. “Over a hundred and twenty years and you still don’t know me at all, do you? What I am actually thinking is bloody stupid Spike got wasted, caused a fight, and was too drunk to fight back.”

“Oh,” said Spike, “but I’ve fought when I’ve been pissed before.”

“Yeah, Spike, but you’re human now. You’re not going to be as strong. You can’t just go around picking fights.”

“So yer saying that I’m no good in a fight anymore?” retorted Spike.

“No,” said Angel patiently, “Gunn was human and an amazing fighter. I was always happy to have him watching my back. I’m just saying that you need to be a little more careful now.”

“One problem with your little ‘let’s make old Spike feel better’ spiel.”

“What’s that?”

“Gunn’s fucking dead!”

tbc

Chapter Three

Be Kind Of Ungrateful...

Angel watched Spike disappear out of the office in frustration. Although he'd played it cool about the Shanshu prophecy he'd longed for it to be real and for it to happen to him. The chance of a normal life after so long would have been amazing, and there was Spike acting like he didn't want it.

"Goddammit, Spike," growled Angel.

It hadn't taken Spike long to adapt to being a vampire, he'd even somehow managed to retain more of his humanity than any other vampire that he'd encountered. Angel thought that would have made Spike embrace his change even more readily. It wasn't as big a step as it would have been with a more conventional vamp.

Angel shook his head. He had no idea how to help Spike adjust. He'd never been fond of taking advice from his grand-sire.

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Spike went back up to his room as he didn't know where else to go. He couldn't go far, feeling as beat up as he did. God, he felt every one of his century plus years.

He sat on the bed and looked around the shabby room. Had it always been so bad or was the fact that he was human making him want something better? He didn't know. He didn't know anything apart from one thing - he didn't want this change.

Spike would have given anything to have been human when in Sunnydale with Buffy. When he'd sought his soul he'd really hoped it would come attached to being returned to human form but it wasn't to be. He'd wanted to give her everything she deserved in a man including, amongst others, the ability to walk with her in the sun. But now? What was the point? He and Angel had turned into a great team; ever since they defeated the Senior Partners they proved that they could do good - big time.

But the thing that terrified Spike the most was that he'd return to being ‘William', that naïve, weak loser he used to be. Even after all these years, the remarks levelled at him the night that he'd met Drusilla still stung, as did Cecily's rejection of him. When he'd first gotten his soul and had tried to quash the demon within as much as he could, Buffy had berated him for being soft and useless; that he had been a better fighter and more help to her before it. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Wot would she think of me now?"

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Angel had stayed in office the whole night to make sure that Spike didn't leave the hotel. He was just worrying that somehow he must have missed seeing him go when Spike walked down the stairs and into the office.

"Er...look...I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? Just a lot to take in yer know, and yeah, I was too pissed to be able to fight properly." He'd kept his eyes downcast but now lifted them to meet Angel's. "But I still want to work with you, Peaches. I reckon the vampire - human team might work out all right, don't you? I mean, I can go places that you can't." He grinned. "Think of where I can go, no invite required."

"Yeah," said Angel slowly, "So you're okay with the whole being human thing now?" He watched Spike closely.

"That's right," said Spike firmly, "Be kind of ungrateful not to be, wouldn't it?" "God, I'm good. I've almost convinced myself."

Angel stared at him for a moment more but seemed satisfied with what Spike had said.

"Good. It's a gift, Spike. A good one. I'm going to get some sleep. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, no worries. I'm just going to get some supplies. Blood's not looking as appetising as it used to these days," said Spike with a grin. "Yep, pencil me in for that Oscar."

Angel nodded and went upstairs. Spike's grin faded as soon as Angel was out of sight and he let out a big sigh.

"Well, he seems to have bought it."

Spike knew what Angel was like. If he thought that he wasn't coping he'd watch him like a hawk to make sure that he was all right. One thing he could really do without was having tall, dark and forehead as a bloody babysitter.

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Spike went out to find the nearest diner. As he ate his pancakes drenched in maple syrup, he tried to remember what his last breakfast as a human had been. He wasn't certain but thought kippers featured in there somewhere.

"Stop doing that," he chided himself, "You're not soddin' William. You're Spike made human. William died in 1880."

He pushed away his plate with a grimace, appetite suddenly gone.

When he got back to the hotel he went to the room they'd kitted out as a training room. He wanted to see exactly what he could do.

"Can't have been a vamp for a hundred and twenty odd years without retaining some of that, surely?"

He started to pound on the punch bag, hitting it and kicking it. The physical exercise felt good. He soon stripped off his t-shirt as he started to sweat, something he hadn't suffered with as a vampire. He tried his hand at some of the weapons and, although his aim was still as true, his strength was a fraction of what it had been. He ended the session feeling even more dispirited.

Up in the bathroom Spike stared at himself in the mirror before he had a shower. He took in his lean, hard physique - his stomach was flat and taut, his muscles well defined. He knew he was much stronger than William had been, probably much stronger than any human, but he still mourned the loss of his vampire strength. Ever since he'd been sired, he'd felt cocky and brave, even when he was merely a fledge learning about his powers. Now he felt the old insecurities flooding back and he hated it. That's why he'd never go to find Buffy. She needed a warrior beside her.

As he took his shower he examined his bruises and was disappointed to see they'd barely changed. If he'd still been a vampire he would have been back to normal by now.

Spike sat on his bed and turned on the TV, which sat with its remote at the foot of the bed on some drawers. Passions was on and he settled down to watch it.

"Least some things don't change."

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Later that day as dusk fell Angel reappeared. He went to the weapons room and selected what he wanted to take with him on patrol. He turned around and wasn't surprised to see Spike at the doorway, leaning on the frame, with a stake in one hand and a short handled axe in the other.

"Hi, Spike. What are you doing?"

"Coming with you on patrol. What do yer think I'm doing?"

"Don't you think that you ought to wait until you know more of what your...um...limitations are?"

Spike scowled furiously at him.

"Look, I've been in the bleeding training room half the day. I know wot I can and can't do, yer git," he snarled.

"Okay, okay," said Angel, putting his hands up in surrender, "It's just you're used to defending your heart and your neck as your most vulnerable parts. Now you have to be more careful of the whole of you."

"Are we going?" asked Spike coldly, and he walked out.

Angel sighed and followed him out. He kicked himself for going to bed. He should have stayed up and sparred with him.

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It wasn't long before they ran into trouble - a woman was cornered by three vampires in a dark alley. With a roar Spike flew to the attack, beating Angel to the first vampire despite no longer having his vampire speed. The dust from the first had barely settled before Angel took out the second. Spike glanced over to Angel and grinned.

"There's still nothing like a good bit of violence."

Then Spike was hit from behind by the third vampire. He fell to his knees, dropping both the axe and stake. He turned over quickly onto his back and deflected the vamp's lunge with a sharp kick to its stomach. It staggered back a few paces but then leapt at Spike again, this time grabbing his throat. Spike thrashed desperately in its grasp before choking on the dust as Angel staked it through its back.

Angel held a hand out to help Spike up. He ignored it and got to his feet unaided. He turned to the woman they'd just saved.

"Wot the hell were you thinking walking through here?"

"It's...it's a short cut...my God...what were those things?" she gasped, face white with shock.

"Bleeding short cut to getting dead, yer silly bint," snarled Spike, "Stick to the well lit street from now on. We might not be around to save you next time."

"Seems like I only need your friend here to save me," retorted the woman, "He had to rescue you, too."

She turned on her heel and walked away. Spike took a step after her before feeling Angel's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off but didn't follow her.

"Spike," said Angel.

He didn't answer, just picked up his fallen weapons.

"I can't do this. I just bleeding can't do this." Spike thought in desperation. "I can't even off a bleeding vampire. I'm totally useless."

Angel caught up with him but kept quiet. He knew Spike well enough to know that talking now would inevitably just lead to a fight.

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Angel hesitated as he walked beside Spike and sniffed the air. Spike stopped too and watched him closely. Angel sniffed a couple more times before nodding. He wasn't mistaken, some Mwad demons were ahead. Their pheromone trail was always so strong. He looked at Spike - should he tell him what scent he'd caught?

"So wot nasty is waiting up ahead?" asked Spike, putting an end to Angel's indecision.

"Mwads, and not far away," said Angel quietly.

"Yeah," replied Spike grimly, " and there's only one thing they're after..."

"Children," supplied Angel.

"Hey, isn't that shelter to runaway kids somewhere around here?" asked Spike.

"It is."

"We'd better hurry up then."

Spike set off at a fast pace. He had to concentrate on his breathing, unused to it having a physiological effect. He'd realised how important correct breathing had been in the training room. He may no longer be a vampire but he was very fit and he wasn't out of breath when he got to the shelter.

"Spike, wait," hissed Angel as Spike started to go boldly to the door.

He growled with frustration as Spike simply ignored him and tossed the stake to the ground before running, axe raised, through the door. Angel heard a roar and then had to dodge out of the way as an Mwad demon flew through the air towards him, an axe firmly embedded in its head. He pulled the axe out and ran into the building.

Spike was clinging to the back of another Mwad, no easy task as they're covered in slime, trying to break its neck - something pre-Shanshu he would have found simple.

"Catch," shouted Angel, throwing him the axe.

Spike caught it and slammed it into the side of the demon's neck, leaping clear as it fell to the floor mortally wounded.

"There's another in there," gasped Spike, pointing to the door on the left.

Angel ran in just in time to see the third demon grab one of the kids by the throat. She was probably fifteen years old, skinny with lank brown hair. She struggled helplessly in its clutches.

"Just put the girl down," said Angel firmly, "You don't want to go there."

The demon turned to stare at him, its blazing red eyes malevolent. Angel started to walk slowly towards the beast.

"Your pals are dead. If you want to live then you'll let her go," lied Angel, having no intention of allowing it to live.

"Oh, for Christ's sake Angel, don't bleeding stand there!" cried Spike as he ran past and hurled himself at the Mwad.

"Spike! No!"

Angel's warning came too late. The demon brought up its free hand, sword gleaming as he swung it. Spike dodged as best he could but gave out a sickening scream as the blade bit into his side.

Angel ran to the attack. The Mwad threw the girl to the floor and turned, sword raised, to finish Spike, who was writhing on the floor. Angel kicked the hand that held the sword and with a bellow the demon dropped it. Angel caught it before the sword hit the ground and ran the beast through with it. He then pulled it out and deftly lopped off its head.

"Spike."

He threw the sword to the floor and ran to him. He gently lifted Spike's shirt. The wound was long but not too deep - not life threatening, thank God. He pressed on it to stem the bleeding.

"Ow, that bloody hurts," complained Spike.

"Well, what do you expect, you idiot?" snapped Angel, "Come on, let's get you home and cleaned up." He helped Spike to his feet.

Once back at the hotel Angel disinfected the wound.

"It won't heal without being stitched," said Angel.

"So, sodding stitch it already," said Spike, stifling a moan as the needle bit through his flesh.

"Look you're going to have to take it easy, Spike. You can't keep going on like this, you'll get yourself killed," admonished Angel, regretting his harsh words as soon as he'd said them as he saw Spike wince and close his eyes.

"Yeah, right." Spike got up, holding his hand to his newly bandaged side. "So that's it, it's official. I'm bloody useless." He walked out of the room.

Without realising it Spike found himself outside of the weapons room. He walked inside and stood looking at the astonishing array of weapons. He ignored the ones on the racks on the walls and pulled open a small drawer. He looked in. There was a handgun in it. He stared at it for a long time before he took it and put it in the waistband of his jeans. He put a clip of bullets in his pocket. He pulled the t-shirt down to cover it and then walked up to his bedroom.

Spike sat on the bed and pulled out the gun. He clipped the bullets into it. He liked the feel of it in his hand, the metal cool to his touch. He took off the safety catch and put the gun against his left temple. His hand was steady as a rock as it held the weapon in place. His finger started to slowly squeeze the trigger. He glanced around the room for the last time, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. With a cry of frustration he took the gun away from his head and laid it on the bed.

"Oh, Christ, I am a bleeding ponce. How pathetic is this? Nothing heroic about blowing yer brains out."

He put his head in his hands and sobbed.

Chapter Four

It’ll Soon Be Time…

The next day Spike felt a lot better. His head had finally cleared and he knew what he had to do. He didn’t join Angel on patrol that night or for the next several nights either. He ate well and rested well.

Angel was delighted at the change in Spike’s demeanour.

“Thank God he’s seen sense,” he thought as he saw Spike talking on the phone and scribbling details on a note pad.

By the time he got to him Spike had hung up.

“Got another job for yer, Peaches.” He handed Angel the piece of paper.

“That’s great. Thanks, Spike,” said Angel, “This is working out fine, isn’t it? You doing the research and booking jobs in and me doing the field work.”

“Yeah, seems to be,” agreed Spike with a smile, “There’s some blood in the refrigerator. I’m going out to grab a burger for lunch, okay?”

“Sure, see you later.”

Spike walked out into the sunshine. He looked up, letting its warm rays bathe his face.

“It’ll soon be time,” he murmured.

00000000

It was another eight days before Spike got his chance. Angel was out on patrol when an urgent call came in. A couple of demons were terrorising a movie theatre just a few blocks away.

Spike raced to the weapons room and selected his favourite axe. He pulled on his duster as he ran out of the front door. He didn’t need his vampire senses to find out where the trouble was, the screams carried in the still night air. As he got nearer he was jostled by people running towards him, away from the terrors they’d seen. Spike impatiently pushed his way through.

“Get out of the way,” he snarled.

He slid to a halt when he got to the theatre. The report of two demons hadn’t been accurate; there were five of them.

“Even better,” grinned Spike, “Come on then, yer bastards,” he roared, “Better start picking on someone yer own size.”

All five demons turned to glare at Spike but he never hesitated. Axe raised, he hurtled in to attack the nearest one. A manic cackle erupted from his lips as he deftly lopped off its head.

The other demons paused at the sight of the blond haired human attacking with such wild abandon. The hesitation cost a second demon its life. That galvanised the others into attacking. They were Polgara demons and they activated the bone skewers in their forearms, using them to block Spike’s blows and thrusting at him with them.

One skewer sliced into the fleshy part of Spike’s left arm. His grip on the axe faltered but he grabbed it with his right before it could fall. He grunted with satisfaction as he landed a killing blow on the culprit. Three down, two to go. He hadn’t noticed that one demon had managed to get behind him. It thrust the skewer through Spike’s torso as easily as if through butter. Spike looked down at the point sticking out of his abdomen stupidly, as he felt no pain. When his fingers touched the tip of it, the demon withdrew it and Spike fell to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

His hands felt desperately for the axe. Just as the fingers of his right hand were wrapping around the shaft, one of the demons stamped on his arm. Spike cried out in pain as the arm broke. He looked up at the demon. It kicked him so hard that he flew twenty feet in the air, bashing his head on the ground as he landed. Everything started to go grey. His vision started to narrow until it was just pinpricks. The creature picked him up by the throat and held him whilst the other ran him through once more with the skewer. Spike coughed, bright frothy blood at his lips, his lung punctured. He felt no fear. The last thing he saw was a huge fist heading towards him. He welcomed the darkness that followed.

00000000

Angel was making his way back to the Hyperion when he heard the commotion coming from the movie theatre. He ran as fast as he could, arriving in time to see the Polgara smash its fist into the limp body of Spike, hanging in its grasp.

“Spike!” he roared.

The Polgara turned around, distracted from its intent of snapping Spike’s neck. He saw Angel approaching with game face on show and he threw Spike to the ground.

All Angel wanted to do was to get to Spike but the demons made it clear that he’d have to deal with them first. As he fought them he kept glancing back at Spike as he lay there unmoving. He dispatched the demons after what seemed to him like an hour, but in reality was little more than five minutes.

He raced to Spike. He could hear his heart beating slowly and erratically, the wounds bleeding profusely. He knew Spike didn’t have much time; his breathing was weak, too. Angel scooped him up into his arms and ran towards the hospital, which wasn’t far. He saw a taxi heading towards him and he stood in the middle of the road, forcing it to stop.

“Please help me. I’ve got to get him to the hospital,” said Angel.

The cab driver took one look at the inert body held in the huge man’s arms.

“Jesus Christ! What happened to him? Get in! Get in!”

Angel climbed in holding Spike as carefully as he could.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“No problem. Is he alive?” asked the cabbie, glancing in his rear view mirror. He was puzzled when he couldn’t see Angel, but figured that he was bent down over the wounded man.

“Only just.”

The cab pulled up at the hospital with a squeal of its tyres. The driver leapt out and opened the door for Angel. He gently lifted Spike from the backseat.

“Wait here,” said Angel, “I’ll be back with your money.”

“No, don’t bother. I just hope your friend makes it.”

Angel hurried through the doors.

“Somebody help me!” yelled Angel.

Nurses and a doctor appeared as if from nowhere. Spike was taken out of Angel’s arms and laid on a gurney.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. I found him afterwards - he’s been stabbed,” replied Angel, following the gurney as it went into the ER.

“Sorry sir, you can’t come in here. Please go and give his details at the desk and let us do our job.”

Dazedly Angel stood there as the doors swung shut behind them. He walked back to the front desk. Looking down at the blood on his clothes and on his hands, he could hardly believe there was any left in Spike’s body.

“Sir?”

Angel looked up. He hadn’t realised he’d actually gone to the desk.

“Er…I just brought…” He glanced back to the room Spike had been taken to, “he’s…”

“What’s his name, sir?” asked the woman gently. She’d seen it all before - the poor man was in shock.

Angel turned his attention back to her. “Spike…er…William…” His voice trailed away again.

“Okay, Spike Williams,” said the receptionist, writing it down.

Angel didn’t bother to correct her.

“How old is he?”

“What?”

“His age, sir?”

“Um…about thirty, I guess.”

“Okay, next of kin?”

“Me,” said Angel, giving his name and the address of the Old Hyperion.

“Can I go to see him? I need to see him.”

“Just wait in the chairs, someone will be with you as soon as they can.”

Tbc

Chapter Five

Consequences

Hours later Angel sat there in deep thought. He’d perfected his brooding techniques over the years and was putting them to good use now. There was a very real possibility that Spike would die tonight and yet his first thought had been to get him to the hospital. Why hadn’t he just turned him? That way Spike would be healed and back to obviously what he wanted to be. Angel realised what Spike had been doing these past couple of weeks. He hadn’t been adjusting and accepting the fact that he was now human, he’d been looking for a fight he knew he couldn’t win. Angel knew if he hadn’t just happened to be in the vicinity when he had been that Spike would now be lying dead on a slab in a mortuary. Hell, he still might end the night on one. Which brought Angel back to where he started. Why hadn’t he turned him?

Angel sighed deeply and rubbed his hand across his face wearily. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t release a demon into Spike, not with him being gifted his humanity again. Angel had so longed that it would happen to him, he’d yearned for it and he would have cherished it. He just couldn’t play a part in taking it away from Spike, whether Spike wanted it or not.

“Excuse me?”

Angel looked up at the voice’s owner, a tall bespectacled man wearing a white coat.

“Are you the person who brought Mr. Williams in?”

“Uh? Spike, yeah, I brought him in. How is he?”

The doctor glanced around. There was no one in earshot and so he sat down next to Angel and continued.

“I’m afraid he’s very seriously injured. He is in critical condition but his injuries are such that we’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.”

Angel stared at the doctor in horror.

“God, I’ve killed him. By not turning him I’ve killed him once and for all.”

“Is there anyone else? Any family you need to contact? I’d suggest that you get them to come to be with him as soon as possible,” said the doctor gravely.

Angel thought briefly of Buffy, but she still didn’t know that Spike had survived the Hellmouth. Was there any point in telling her that he’d lived but now may die again?

“No, there’s only me. Can…can I see him?” croaked Angel.

“He’s out of surgery now but he is unconscious. I’ll take you up.”

Angel followed the doctor through a maze of corridors and up one level in the elevator before eventually arriving at Spike’s private room. Angel stopped short when he saw him. Spike was swathed in bandages. He was attached to two intravenous drips; one feeding in a clear fluid, the other blood, which Angel, a little hysterically, thought was ironic. He looked so small. He was hooked up to a ventilator, his chest rising and falling to its rhythmical hiss.

“Oh Jesus.”

It felt like an age before he got a grip and walked into the room. He became aware that the doctor was talking.

“Uh? Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes unable to leave Spike.

The doctor took in the shock on Angel’s face and the extreme pallor of his complexion and thought that perhaps Angel couldn’t take hearing any more details just yet.

“It’s all right, I’ll just leave you with him for a moment or two. Come and find me in my office down the hall when you want to leave and I’ll go over Mr. Williams’ injuries and prognosis then.”

He turned to go but was stopped as a strong hand grasped his arm.

“Tell me now,” ordered Angel.

“Um…” The doctor was somewhat taken aback. “Mr. Williams has suffered very serious injuries. His right lung was punctured and that’s what has caused the problem with his breathing; but the injury to his torso was the most serious and I’m afraid will most probably have permanent consequences.”

“Consequences?” interrupted Angel, “What do you mean, consequences?”

“The weapon used went perilously close to his spine. Some vertebrae have been affected. We hope the spinal column nerve itself is intact but as yet it’s too early to say. Suffice to say the damage was severe.”

“Just tell me what all that freaking means,” snarled Angel.

“There is a significant chance that, if he regains consciousness, he will experience some form of paralysis from the site of the wound down. How severe and whether it will be permanent we don’t know at this present time, but the fact that he was moved without being placed on a spinal board won’t have helped his injuries. The first thing we need to pray for is that he wakes up, as he is so gravely ill.”

“Oh no, please no,” said Angel.

His mind went back to the time years ago when Spike had been confined to a wheelchair after the Slayer had nearly killed him. He’d hated it with a passion. And the doctor’s words hit him hard. By moving him, was he the cause of further damage? He realised that he still had hold of the doctor’s arm; he let go of it abruptly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s all right,” soothed the doctor, “I’ll just be down the hall if you need me. He’s had the very best of care. All we can do now is wait. This next part is up to him; he looks fit and strong, which will help his chances. Stay with him as long as you like.”

Angel finally walked to the bed and collapsed into the chair next to it.

“Oh Spike, what have I done?” whispered Angel, “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

He looked around the room, at the monitor indicating Spike’s heart rate, the ventilator, the drips. He knew there was no way he could turn him now even if he wanted to. Not without alerting everyone to the fact that Spike had died. Then getting the body out undetected would be almost impossible. Angel threw these rational arguments about in his mind but deep down he knew he still couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“He’ll be okay. The doctors don’t know for sure. He’s strong.”

He ignored the little voice inside his head that asked whether Spike would fight to stay alive or had he already given up?

tbc

Chapter Six

It’s Too Much…

The doctor closed the door softly behind him as he left the room. He shook his head gently as he walked away. He hated this part of his job – the part where he really could offer no hope of a ‘happy ever after’ for the patient. In fact he was amazed that he was still alive. He regretted telling the man’s friend about the consequences should the patient wake up. Why give him more to worry about? But the look on his face had prompted him to tell the truth. However, as he settled in his chair in his small office, he thought it would be merely a matter of time before Spike Williams died. What a waste of a life? The streets were getting more dangerous each year. Heaven knows what sort of weapon had been used on him. It appeared to be something akin to a spear.

The surgery that had been undertaken had been to remove his spleen which had been ruptured and was the primary cause for the catastrophic blood loss he’d suffered. A kidney had also been damaged but had been saved. The broken arm had been repaired with a plate and several screws. The head injury was also of concern, a depressed fracture of the skull. All in all things were looking very bleak indeed. The doctor questioned his decision to work in the ER. Bad news was more often given out than good. He sighed and poured himself yet another coffee from his machine – it was going to be a long night.

00000000

Angel sat with his head in his hands. He could barely look at Spike; it hurt too much to see him like this. Even when technically dead, Spike was always so full of life, annoyingly full of life most of the time.

Spike’s right arm had been broken at the elbow and was encased in a plaster cast from shoulder to wrist and held up in some sort of a sling. Angel glanced at Spike; his face was relatively unscathed and he looked more peaceful than Angel had ever seen. Had he given up? Was he fighting to live?

A nurse walked in, startling Angel. She quietly and efficiently checked Spike’s vital signs, wrote them on his chart, and then left. Angel picked up the chart when she’d gone. There had been no change. But surely that was good? If he were going to die wouldn’t he deteriorate first?

“Come on, Spike, don’t give up. Don’t throw away your gift,” Angel murmured.

000000000

Four weeks passed. There was little change but Angel could tell by the way the doctor looked as he checked him over that he was amazed by the fact that he was still alive at all. They had taken him off the ventilator a week ago as he could now breath unaided, but other than that Spike remained unconscious, unmoving. Not dead but not really alive either.

Angel had barely left his bedside - only the need for food took him away from Spike. The nurses didn’t know how he hadn’t succumbed to exhaustion, but being a vampire, the odd catnap in the chair was enough to keep him going.

As time had passed Angel kept thinking about telling Buffy but so far hadn’t had the courage to ring. They hadn’t spoken since before the big fight.

He took Spike’s left hand in his, as he often did.

“Oh God, Spike. Wake up. I miss you,” he whispered.

“Let go of my ‘and, yer great poofter.” A weak, tremulous voice replied.

“Spike!” Angel reached out and pressed the buzzer to alert the nurse.

“Peaches,” said Spike wheezily, “I mean it, gerrof my ‘and.” But he squeezed it tightly before he allowed Angel to let it go. “So, I’m not dead then?”

“No, not dead. What were you thinking, you idiot, taking on those Polgara on your own?” His relief at Spike waking up and being lucid made him snarl.

Spike closed his eyes at the memory. He thought he would have been killed. He wanted it. He’d have died a hero once more, saving innocents.

“Welcome back,” said the nurse as she walked briskly in, “The doctor will be here soon. Are you comfortable?”

“Wot?” said Spike. She was too loud, talking too quickly.

“Are you in any pain?”

Spike thought about it for a moment, gathering his jumbled thoughts. He tried to bring his right hand up to rub through his hair, it wouldn’t move. He panicked.

“My arm! I can’t move it,” he said desperately.

He turned his head and sagged against his pillows with relief when he saw it was encased in a plaster case and held steady in a sling.

“Oh.”

He smiled weakly and looked at Angel in embarrassment. He was puzzled when Angel wouldn’t meet his eye. He was just about to ask him why when the doctor walked in.

“Hello, Mr. Williams. Glad to see you’ve finally decided to join us again.”

“I’ll be back later,” blurted Angel as he bolted for the door. He couldn’t stand to hear what the doctor was going to say to Spike.

Spike’s heart nearly stopped. What had gotten Angel so emotional?

“Are you in any pain?” asked the doctor.

Spike stared up at him. “Why do yer all keep asking me that? No, I’m not in pain. That’s good, right?”

The doctor hesitated.

“That’s not good?” asked Spike, his voice wavering.

His breath caught in his throat as he suddenly remembered the bone skewer emerging from his abdomen. It hadn’t hurt then either.

“Oh Christ, no.”

He stared at his blanket-covered legs. He tried to move them but nothing happened. He glanced back up at the doctor.

“I can’t…they won’t…”

“Just try to remain calm, Mr. Williams.”

“Spike,” he corrected automatically.

“Spike, you were very seriously injured. You defied the odds by not dying…”

“Wish I had,” interrupted Spike bitterly.

“Er…your spine has been damaged but the picture may not be as bleak as it first appears. Further surgery now you’re awake is an option. We won’t know things for certain until we do more tests.”

“Wot else do yer need to know? I can’t fucking move my legs, isn’t that enough?”

The doctor didn’t react to his outburst. “The tests,” he continued patiently, “will tell us more about whether it will be permanent or not and to what extent if it is.”

“So I might…they might…?”

“We’ll know more in the next few days. Just try to rest now and I’ll be back shortly to get started on some of them, okay?”

As he left the room Spike closed his eyes.

“Not again. Please, not now that I can’t heal.” He tried to push himself up into a sitting position but with only one arm he found he couldn’t manage it.

“Bollocks,” he sighed.

He lay back against the pillow and the tears that had threatened since he’d first tried to move his legs began to fall silently down his cheeks.

“It’s too much.”

00000000

Just less than an hour later the doctor reappeared. He smiled sympathetically at Spike who promptly decided that he hated him.

“Now Mr. Williams…”

“My soddin’ name’s Spike,” he snarled.

“Okay, Spike. I need to run a few basic tests. Is that all right?”

Spike nodded. What else could he do?

The doctor pulled the bed covers off of his legs. Spike looked at them curiously. There wasn’t so much as a bruise on them.

The doctor ran his hands over them, every now and then asking if Spike could feel anything. Spike had very faint feeling in them when the doctor pricked his skin. But no reflexes in his feet were found when the doctor tested them.

“It’s still early. We’ll start physiotherapy tomorrow and see what happens in the next few days. We’ll also do more x-rays of your spine to see if the fractured bones are pressing on the spinal column.” The doctor didn’t add that the operation hadn’t been done as yet because they had thought that he wouldn’t survive.

Spike just nodded, not meeting his eye. He noticed a tube poking out from beneath his hospital gown; as he watched a clear yellow fluid flowed down it. He followed its path to a bag suspended at the side of the bed.

“Fucking hell.”

He reached down with his left hand, realising that it led to a catheter in his penis.

“I can’t even tell when I’m having a piss. Oh Jesus. Does that mean…? Will I be able to...? No, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.” He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears pricked at them.

“As I said before, it’s still early yet, and things may still improve from what they are now. I’m sure that you will still be able to father children but …”

“I won’t be able to shag, will I?”

The doctor winced at his choice of words. “It is too soon to draw any conclusions. There are drugs now that may help in these situations but the future may not be as bleak as you see it at the moment. Just take one day at a time, Spike. I’ll leave you to rest. Just press the buzzer if you need anything.”

Spike didn’t reply and kept his eyes downcast as the doctor covered his useless legs with the blankets. He was almost at the door before Spike spoke.

“Can you help me to sit up, please?” His voice was quiet and his cheeks flushed pink with shame at being so helpless.

“Certainly, the bed will raise up. Here are the controls.”

He showed Spike what buttons to press and the top of the bed elevated until Spike was sitting up. The doctor left the remote control for the TV on the table near Spike’s left hand.

tbc

Chapter Seven

Bite Me

Angel didn’t return until the next day and his timing couldn’t have been worse. He walked in as Spike was being cleaned up after having what was essentially his diaper changed. Spike’s face was burning as two female nurses matter of factly saw to him, washing him and attaching a new bag to the catheter for his urine.

“Get the fuck out, you git!” roared Spike when he spotted Angel transfixed in the doorway. Angel turned and fled.

“That wasn’t very nice,” admonished one of the nurses, a middle-aged rather stout lady with a severe face.

“Wot can I say, I’m not a nice man,” snapped Spike. To his dismay she just chuckled at him.

“There you go, all good as new,” she said cheerfully, “Come along, Sara, let’s leave Mr. Williams to his own company.

“Spike, my name is Spike,” he sighed as they left the room. “Trust Peaches to get my name wrong when he brought me here.”

Every time he heard them call him Mr. Williams it made him cringe as he knew he was now more pathetic than good old ‘William the Bloody Awful Poet’ had ever been. He reached over and turned on the TV, anything to try to keep from thinking too much.

00000000

An hour later Angel peered around the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, suppose so.” Spike hated to admit it but he really didn’t want to be alone.

Angel sat in the chair on the left hand side of the bed.

“Angel,” said Spike, causing him to look up astonished. Spike never called him that. “Will you do me a favour?”

“Yeah, of course I will. What is it?”

“Bite me,” replied Spike, staring him in the eye, “Kill me or turn me, I don’t care but don’t leave me like this.”

Angel slid the chair away from the bed. “I can’t, Spike. Don’t ask me to. I just can’t.”

“Angel, don’t make me beg, for God’s sake.”

Angel got up and backed away from him, shaking his head.

“No, Spike, I won’t.”

“You’re family, you can’t let me stay this way.”

“I can’t take another life, Spike, and I can’t take your soul.”

“Oh, so you won’t help me because you don’t want another life on your conscience, you brooding bastard. I didn’t want to be soddin’ human, I want to be back how I was.”

“I’m sorry, Spike.”

Angel walked out of the room. He leant back against the door.

“I’m no use to him but he can’t go through this alone.”

He made a decision and quickly left the hospital.

000000000

Spike stared at the door for a long time after Angel had gone, expecting him to come back in at any moment. He was taken down for x-rays on his spine, again feeling humiliated by being manhandled into position, like the useless piece of meat that he thought he was.

When he was back in his bed, Spike pondered his relationship with Angel. They’d never really gotten along, except just lately after they took out the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart. As his grand-sire Spike had had a bond with Angel but he realised that the tie had died when he was made human. He was nothing to Angel any more, but he’d never thought that Angel would just abandon him.

The door opened and Spike looked up in the hope that it was Angel returning but instead was greeted by a good looking athletic man of about twenty-five who burst into the room.

“Hi, Spike, how are you doing?”

Just looking at the ease with which the man moved set Spike’s teeth on edge.

“It’s Mr. Williams to you and how do you think I soddin’ am? Who are you anyway?” he snarled.

“I’m Brad, I’m your physiotherapist,” he replied cheerfully.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Brad chuckled, “Why would I be kidding? The doctor wants me to take a look at you because you’re scheduled for surgery tomorrow and I’ll be part of the team that works on you afterwards. Now let’s get started.”

He started to pull the sheets off of Spike’s legs. Spike grabbed at them with his left hand.

“Hey, no, I’m not ready. I don’t want to.”

Brad just calmly pulled the covers away.

“We’ve got to make a start, Mr. Williams.”

“Wot’s the point?” said Spike wearily.

“We need to get you as strong as we can, then it’ll be so much easier for you when you leave here.”

“What’s with all the ‘we’ shit? I don’t see you having much trouble getting about.”

“Look, I know you’re angry at what has happened to you, Mr. Williams, but we have to work together if you’re going to make any progress. It’ll be all right, I’m sure you’ll be back home in no time.”

“Brad, I get that it’s your job to be all positive and cheery but don’t waste it on me, mate. I’m not sure that I even have a home to go to anymore, so what’s going to happen to me when I leave here like this? Where will I go?”

“Oh, “ said Brad, his smile fading, “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Williams, I really am.”

“Call me Spike, all right.”

“Okay, well Spike, that’s all the more reason to try to get you as fit as we can. So work with me, yeah?”

“Okay,” sighed Spike. He just didn’t have the energy to argue.

0000000

Angel picked up the telephone three times, putting it back down again without dialling, before he finally found the nerve to call the number he knew by heart but had never used before.

“Pronto?”

“Buffy…”

Click – the line went dead.

Angel looked at the receiver for a few moments before pressing the redial button. He knew she’d be angry with him. They hadn’t spoken since the debacle where the guy he had tailing her had been spotted and she had told him in no uncertain terms to butt out of her life.

The phone rang for a long time before it was once more picked up.

“What?” snapped Buffy.

God, he’d missed hearing her voice even if she was snarling at him.

“Don’t hang up again, please,” said Angel quickly.

He heard her take a deep breath.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said, her tone of voice only slightly more conciliatory.

“Er…you heard about the big fight then?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah, I heard it all, but not from you, Angel. Why didn’t you keep me in the loop with what you had planned? After all we’ve been through together, I thought I deserved that.”

Angel didn’t really have an answer to that, well, not one that she’d like, so he hesitated before he spoke.

“I did contact Giles for help but he wouldn’t listen to me. He thought I’d been corrupted by Wolfram and Hart and was evil again.”

He half closed his eyes waiting for the phone to be slammed down again. Instead he heard her sigh deeply.

“I might have known,” she said wearily, :“When will the people around me stop trying to decide what’s best for me. They just end up causing me more pain.” Aloud, she continued, “So what happened exactly? We thought everyone had been killed yet here you are calling me up. God, Angel, do you know how hard it’s been? Thinking I’d lost you after losing…um…closing the Hellmouth?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” said Angel.

“What, the First? Is it back?”

“No, it’s Spike who’s back.”

Click.

Angel put the phone down into its cradle when he heard Buffy hang up again. This time he didn’t call her back. He knew that she’d call him. He knew that she’d loved Spike, probably even before she knew it herself. He’d been able to feel it, her love for his grand-childe. He settled back in to his chair in the office and waited.

tbc

Chapter Eight

He Needs You, Buffy

Buffy slammed the phone down so hard that it almost broke. She stepped away, staring at it as if she expected it to go for her throat.

“Oh my God.”

Her legs went weak and she just made it to the couch before they gave out completely.

“Spike? How could he be back? I saw him start to burn.”

She had thought that she had no more tears left to shed for him but she soon found out that was wrong. She buried her head in her hands as sobs wracked her body.

It was two hours before, hands trembling, she returned Angel’s call.

“How long?” she asked, before he could speak.

“What?”

“How long has he been back?

Shit, she wasn’t going to like this, not one little bit.

“Um…since about three weeks after Sunnydale.” He pulled the phone away from his ear as Buffy screamed at him.

“He was gone for only three weeks and no one tells me? I mourned him, for God’s sake. I still do. I loved him. It nearly killed me when he died, and he comes back and doesn’t tell me?”

“It was complicated.”

Click.

“Christ, this is going to take weeks at this rate!” Angel vamped up in frustration and called her back. “If you ever loved him, just listen for a minute, Buffy.”

He heard her breath hitch as she stifled her tears. He hated that she was crying. He quickly told her what had happened to Spike since he arrived in a puff of smoke in Angel’s office, first as a ghost, then, when corporeal again, as a pain in the ass. Buffy smiled at that. Typical Angel, he and Spike had always rubbed each other up the wrong way.

“Why didn’t he tell me when he was properly back?”

“Buffy, he thought that you hadn’t meant what you said to him in the Hellmouth. He knew you were with the Immortal and thought that you were happy. He wanted you to be happy.”

“I’ll never be happy without Spike,” said Buffy, so quietly that it was only Angel’s vampire hearing that picked it up. He felt a stab in his unbeating heart. Once upon a time she’d thought that of him.

“He needs you, Buffy.”

“Not enough for him to call himself, Angel. I’m sorry, I can’t deal with this.” She burst into loud sobs. “I just can’t…”

"Buffy, wait.”

But once again Angel was talking to no one. She’d put the phone down again. He ran a hand over his face. He had to get her to listen. If she wouldn’t talk on the phone, he’d just have to talk to her in person…

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Buffy sat on the floor, she felt…well, she didn’t know what she felt. Shock at being told that Spike was alive, hurt that he hadn’t gotten in touch, angry that she was now expected to help him. But mostly she just felt tired and sad for the time they had lost. The pain of the past months could have been avoided. She realised that she must have misread the signs from him. Despite his speech about her being ‘the one’, he obviously didn’t love her that way anymore, otherwise why would he stay away? If it had been the other way around she would have gone to him come hell or high water. She still wanted to run to him. The thought that she could once more be held in his arms, to feel his strong body next to hers, was too much and she collapsed into fresh tears.

“Oh Spike,” she sobbed, “Why couldn’t I have loved you properly when you loved me?”

She remembered the devotion he’d offered her, even before he got his soul back, and all she’d ever done was use him and then throw him away. Looking back at his attempted attack on her, it was probably inevitable that the demon within would gain the upper hand when he was so hurt. She had long since forgiven it. When he had returned with his soul, she had been so aware of it's presence�that she was terrified of hurting him again and so had left it late, too late, to really let him know how she felt about him.

“No you don’t, but thanks for saying it.”

Those words had run through her dreams every single night since she had left him to burn in the Hellmouth. Why had she left him? Why hadn’t she ripped that Goddamn amulet from his neck? Why hadn’t she let Angel be the one to bear it?

She’d driven herself halfway to crazy with those thoughts. Now, just when she thought that she’d started to crawl out of the black hole of grief where she’d been living – this.

The revelation was mind blowing. Spike had lived. She wished she’d asked Angel why Spike needed her now, so badly that Angel, who hated them being close, had actually been the one to get in touch. She curled up in a ball. She couldn’t take it. It was too much.

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“Buffy!”

Dawn’s voice rang out shrilly as she saw her sister huddled on the floor when she arrived home. She ran to her and knelt beside her.

“Are you hurt? What’s happened?”

Buffy looked up at her, eyes bloodshot and puffy from the tears that she just didn’t seem to be able to stem.

“Oh Dawnie, I think I’m going mad.” She put her arms around her and hugged her close.

Dawn hugged her back fiercely. She’d thought that Buffy had been getting better. The tears and depression had seemed to have passed.

“Shh, Buffy, you’re all right. I’m here. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong,” soothed Dawn.

“Spike.” Buffy managed to gasp between sobs.

Dawn suppressed a sigh. Would Buffy never come to terms with his death?

“He’s alive,” whispered Buffy.

Dawn thought that her heart would break for her sister’s pain. She just couldn’t let him go.

“No, Buffy,” she said gently, “He died. He saved the world but he died, remember?”

Buffy glanced up at Dawn suddenly realising that she thought that she was back to how she had been months ago.

“Dawn, I do remember him closing the Hellmouth but Angel called today and told me that Spike was somehow trapped in the amulet and it arrived at his office soon after Sunnydale. He really is alive.”

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Dawn, “That’s fantastic.” Then she frowned. “But why didn’t he tell us?”

“Because he didn’t love us, me, enough to come home,” said Buffy, crying again.

“That can’t be true, Buffy,” said Dawn sharply, “Spike would never be that cruel to us.”

“Yeah, cruelty like that is my speciality, not his,” thought Buffy.

“What did Angel say?”

“That Spike was alive and that he needed me.”

“Didn’t you ask why?” Dawn was incredulous.

“No, it was too much of a shock. I couldn’t think straight and I …I hung up on him,” replied Buffy.

Dawn stood up. How come all the people around her were all so dumb? She was the youngest and so she should be the one to get things wrong but it was all of the others who did that, not her.

“For God’s sake, Buffy, why are you still here?” She walked a few steps away from her.

“I…er…it’s complicated,” stuttered Buffy.

“You make it complicated, Buffy. I thought that you loved him. Isn’t that what I’ve listened to these past months?”

“I did love him. I do love him.”

“So I say again, why are you still freaking here? You love him, he needs you, and so you go to him!”

“But…” Buffy started then stopped. She could see the sense in what Dawn said but she was afraid. “What if he doesn’t love me, Dawn? He never came back for me. What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”

Dawn knelt back down next to her sister. “Don’t you see that it doesn’t matter right now whether he wants you or not? Spike’s alive and Angel said that he needs you. You have to go to help him, Buffy. If he doesn’t love you it will be hard but you can’t not be there for him because you’re scared of being rejected.”

Buffy looked at Dawn in amazement. “Since when have you been so wise?”

Dawn smiled at her, “Since everyone else started acting so stupidly. Go and get a shower. I’ll call the airport and see how soon we can get you on a flight.”

“Shouldn’t I call Angel first?”

“No, you don’t need details, Buffy, you need to get to LA. Go on, get cleaned up and packed.”

Buffy stared at her for a moment, and then she smiled for the first time since Dawn had arrived home. “You’re right, Dawnie.” Her heart started to race. She was going to see Spike again. Her champion was alive!

tbc

Chapter Nine

Crossed Wires

As Buffy sat on the plane for the last leg of her seemingly endless journey to Los Angeles, she wished that Dawn had been able to travel with her. She was increasingly nervous about seeing both Spike and Angel again, especially since there was obviously something going down for Angel to have called at all. It wasn’t until she finally landed that she realised that she had no idea of where to find them. The offices of Wolfram & Hart were out; they’d been left abandoned since the big fight closed them for business. She stood there feeling a little lost until she remembered the hotel where Angel had run his detective agency.

“What was its name?” She thought hard. “The Hyperion, that’s it.”

She walked to the row of cabs and climbed into one. When she told the driver her destination he looked over his shoulder at her.

“The Old Hyperion you mean? Are you sure?”

“Yes, positive,” replied Buffy firmly.

“Okay, but I’m not sure that it’s open anymore.”

“I know - a friend of mine is the …er…caretaker. I’m just meeting him there,” said Buffy, trying to find a plausible reason to go to a closed down hotel.

“Right, the Hyperion it is.”

Not long afterwards they pulled up at its front door.

“Are you sure your friend is here? It’s not a great neighbourhood for a little lady like yourself to be in.”

“Yes, he’s here. Thank you.”

She paid the fare and waited until he had driven away before she approached the door. The place was in darkness and dusk was falling. She rapped on the door as loudly as she could but got no reply. After a brief hesitation she gave it a swift kick and went inside as the door splintered and swung open.

“Angel? Spike? Are you here?” she yelled, her voice echoing in the foyer, “I guess not,” she added, as only silence replied.

She walked up the stairs and made her way along the corridor of the first floor. She was drawn to a door about halfway along on the right hand side. As soon as she opened it she knew that it was Spike’s room even before she spotted his collection of black jeans and t-shirts. She breathed in deeply, catching a hint of his scent, something that she never thought she’d smell again. God how she’d missed it. She went to the bed and lay down, placing her head in the depression left in his pillow.

“Oh Spike, where are you?” she sighed, regretting listening to Dawn and not taking the time to call Angel back. She couldn’t even call Dawn; she was away for a few days on a residential college course.

She got up and went across the hall and into the room obviously used by Angel. Her heart missed a beat when she saw Spike’s duster thrown on the back of a chair. She picked it up. Spike was never without his coat so what was it doing here?

“Oh my God.”

She put her fingers through the tear in the back of it; it was covered with dried blood.

“Where are you?” she screamed in frustration.

0000000

As Angel sat huddled amidst the crates in the hold of the cargo plane bound for Rome he regretted the fact that he no longer had access to the super fast jets with vampire friendly glass in the windows.

One thing he had done before that final battle was that he’d siphoned off some funds, figuring that he could put it to better use than Wolfram & Hart could. Before he’d left LA he’d dropped in at the hospital to check on Spike. He hated to admit it but he was relieved that Spike was being prepped for surgery on his back and so had been unable to see him. Angel went to talk to the doctors about Spike’s continuing care. He wanted to tell them that money wasn’t an issue and that he had to have the best it could buy in every respect.

They had told him that the best option would be for him to go to a specialist nursing home for his rehabilitation, whatever the outcome of the operation. They were certain that he’d do better mentally as well as physically away from the isolation of his hospital room. Being with others in the same situation would help him and family were encouraged to stay with them there too. Angel had told them to organise it and had left a huge wad of bills to cover the costs, pushing aside their protests that they didn’t deal with the financial side.

“So give it to those who do,” he’d growled, “Just make sure he gets the best.”

Angel wondered how the operation had gone. He hoped that Spike was all right. He’d talk some sense into Buffy and with her by his side Spike would surely get better.

He heard the change of tone of the engines and knew they were coming in to land. He’d lost time between the legs of his trip by having to ensure his arrival was in darkness. He waited impatiently until the doors were opened and then sneaked out silently, unseen by any ground staff. Before long he was knocking on the door to Buffy’s apartment. When there was no answer he yanked the door handle up and put his shoulder against the door, half falling inside as it flew open. Angel thanked the stars that no de-invite spell had been issued since he’d tried to see Buffy the last time that he had been in Rome. He glanced around the apartment. In one bedroom he saw that clothes were missing from the closet and some were strewn carelessly on the bed and floor.

“Shit!”

He vamped up in frustration. He should have known that she would come to find Spike. He should have waited for her in LA. He questioned the motive behind his decision to come to Rome. Try as he might he couldn’t help but think that it was so that he could avoid seeing Spike. The expression on his face when he’d refused to bite him was something that he didn’t think he could bear to see again. He reached for the telephone and dialled the Old Hyperion.

00000000

Spike started to come around after the delicate operation the surgeons had performed on the affected vertebrae in his spine. He felt weak and nauseous from the anaesthetic. He groaned as his left hand fisted into the bedclothes. He felt a hand cover his.

“Angel?” he whispered.

“No, it’s just me, Laura,” said the nurse who’d been observing his recovery, “but you’re okay.”

Spike felt so alone. Angel had obviously abandoned him altogether, not even seeing how the operation had gone. Did he even know that he’d had it? He gripped the nurse’s hand, desperate for a little comfort. In all he’d ever experienced he had never been as frightened as he was now. He opened his eyes and glanced up at the nurse whose hand he was still holding. She reminded him a little of his mother.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” he said as another wave of nausea flooded over him.

“You won’t. That’s why we didn’t let you eat anything before surgery. It’s a reaction to the anaesthetic. Just close your eyes and rest a while longer, you’ll feel better when you wake up next time,” she soothed.

His eyes felt heavy and so he did as she suggested and drifted off to sleep again. When he woke some hours later he was aware of two things. He had pain, quite a lot of pain and he felt the urgent need to urinate. He fumbled for the buzzer near his left hand and pressed it to summon help. The nurse who responded to his call was the one that he’d seen earlier.

“You look a little more awake now,” said Laura softly.

“I need to take a piss, the um…has the…” He waved his hand to indicate the catheter, “um…come out?” He was too embarrassed to meet her eye.

“It was removed before the operation, the reason being that we had hoped it wouldn’t be needed afterwards.” Spike glanced up at her. “The fact that you can feel that you need to urinate is probably telling us something, don’t you think?” She smiled at him and passed him a metal object resembling a bottle.

He looked at it for a moment and then realised that up to now he hadn’t felt anything in that department ever since the Polgara had skewered him.

“Does that mean…? I can…? Oh God.”

He stopped as he struggled to choke back tears, taking in the implications of what she’d just said to him. He’d regained control of his bladder. He’d hated being incontinent. At least now he had a little of his dignity back.

“Er…I can’t while you’re here,” he said quietly, cheeks colouring slightly.

Laura smiled at him, “I’ll just go and get the doctor then.” She squeezed his hand and left him alone.

Spike put the bottle under the sheets and relieved himself, sighing as he did. He put the bottle on the bedside table and thought how much you take things for granted all the time until you can’t do them. He looked at his legs and found that he daren’t try to move them. He was terrified that there’d be no change. He wondered if the pain he felt now was a good sign? Or had things gone even more wrong? He felt close to panicking when luckily he was distracted by the arrival of the doctor.

“Hello Mr. Williams. How are you feeling? Laura tells me that you now have bladder control?”

Spike nodded. He found it uncomfortable when they just talked in such a matter of fact manner about what he could or couldn’t do.

“We hoped that would be the case. The damaged vertebrae were pressing on your spinal nerve but it wasn’t severed, which is a very good thing indeed. I just want to do a couple of basic tests. Is that all right?”

Again Spike just nodded.

“Can you please try to wiggle your toes for me?” asked the doctor, once he’d pulled the bed covers off Spike’s legs.

Spike closed his eyes-he couldn’t look. He tried to move them, but he wasn’t sure whether he had or not as he couldn’t feel it. The doctor noticed his closed eyes.

“You may want to see this,” he said gently.

Spike glanced up at the doctor for a second before looking at his feet. The toes on both of his feet were moving, only slightly and the right moved less than the left, but they were moving. Spike stifled a sob and rubbed his left hand across his face.

“Does that mean…?” he mumbled.

“It means that we’ve relieved the pressure and hopefully as the swelling reduces you’ll get more feeling and movement. It’s too soon to know for sure how much you will improve but this is the first step on what will be a long road to recovery, Mr. Williams.”

Spike looked at his feet again. “Stupid to feel so happy about being able to wiggle my toes when I still can’t lift the soddin’ things off the bed,” he thought, “But like the Doc said it’s more than I had before.”

“It hurts,” said Spike, reluctant as always to show weakness.

“I’ll increase your medication. The nerves are protesting at being squeezed for so long.”

“Thanks,” replied Spike.

The doctor didn’t add that the operation would have been done immediately if it had been thought that he would survive. He glanced at Spike before leaving and wondered how he had managed to pull through. What had made him able to defy the odds that were stacked against him?

0000000

Buffy raced down the stairs when she heard the telephone ringing. She followed the sound into the office but as her fingertips touched it, it fell silent.

“Damn.”

She stared at it willing it to ring again. To her surprise it did. She grabbed it.

“Hello.”

“Is this Angel Investigations?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Er…yeah,” “Still calls it Angel’s huh? I bet Spike just loves that.”

“Can I speak to Spike please?”

“No, he’s not here.” “Why the hell is a woman calling for Spike?” Buffy thought jealously, “Soon find out.”

“Oh…um, well unless he gets in real soon it will be too late,” continued the woman, sounding a little distressed, “He told me to call if the Niarrol demon threatened me again and the creature’s outside now trying to get in. He told me that he’d kill it for me.”

“Why is it trying to get in?” asked Buffy curiously. It wasn’t a demon she was familiar with.

“It wants to take our baby back to its dimension for it to be given as a ritual sacrifice and I can’t let him do that. Please get Spike to help me.” She started to cry.

Buffy knew that until Angel and Spike came back there was nothing she could do. So she decided that a bit of demon slaying was just what the doctor ordered.

“Give me your address and directions and your demon problem will be solved.”

Two minutes later, armed with an axe and a short sword from the weapons room, Buffy jogged out of the hotel. She’d left a note on the desk in case the two vampires came back while she was out. She didn’t hear the telephone starting to ring as she closed the busted in door as securely as she could.

000000000

Angel put he phone back down in frustration – it was busy. She must be there. He redialled – still busy. He growled, eyes flaring amber. He was exhausted from the journey and hadn’t eaten in over a day. He sat on the couch and counted off five minutes before trying the hotel again. This time it rang but no one answered. What if Buffy hadn’t gone there at all? It could have just been someone leaving a message.

“Why didn’t I leave a freaking note just in case? Should’ve known that she couldn’t stay away from him.”

He decided that there was nothing more he could do until he had some sleep. He couldn’t face sleeping in her bedroom and so settled for the couch. It wasn’t long before he was asleep.

00000000

Buffy plodded back into the hotel a couple of hours later. She had duly despatched the Niarrol demon once she’d established the fact that it was really a demon, because on first sight it looked a lot like Johnny Depp. In which case Buffy couldn’t really understand why the woman had been so worried – child sacrifice aside, of course. However, one swift punch to the nose and the glamour faded, revealing its true appearance, which was more like a large ape.

“Eew! What sort of woman would have sex with that?” shuddered Buffy in disgust.

She made short work of killing it. Thankfully the body had disappeared as it hit the ground so she hadn’t had to worry about disposal. It was always a bonus when that happened.

She went back up to Spike’s room, too tired to shower, and lay on his bed fully clothed, savouring the fact that the blankets had been near to his body not so long ago. She was soon fast asleep.

0000000

Spike couldn’t sleep. He felt restless and would have been pacing about the room if he could. The fact that he couldn’t didn’t help his state of mind. Despite the increased medication he was experiencing shooting pains through his lower back and legs. He could still barely move his toes but could now feel the bed covers on his legs. They felt like they were too heavy, that they were crushing him, although he knew that was impossible. As another shaft of pain hit him he gritted his teeth and started to wonder if no movement and no pain was a better thing than hardly any movement and lots of pain.

A nurse walked into his room.

“Still awake?”

“Yeah,” replied Spike, rolling his eyes, “Stupid question.”

She checked the chart at the bottom of the bed then glanced up at Spike, noticing the sweat beading on his brow.

“Are the meds not helping with the pain?”

“Not so’s you’d notice,” replied Spike, “It’s getting worse.” “Bugger pride, I can’t take this all night.”

“I’ll go and get a doctor. I won’t be long.”

Sure enough, a couple of minutes later she reappeared with a doctor following her into the room.

“Mr. Williams, I can’t give you any more pain relief but I can give you something to make you sleep. How does that sound?”

“Sounds bleeding great,” sighed Spike.

The doctor smiled and deftly injected the sedative into Spike’s vein. Spike sank back into the pillows, gratefully welcoming oblivion.

tbc

Chapter Ten

Rosedene House

When Spike woke he was informed that he was going to be transferred to a specialist private facility. It had everything he needed for his rehabilitation and was the best that money could buy.

“So Peaches has found somewhere to dump me then?” thought Spike bitterly. He hated that the doctor had said ‘ rehabilitation’ and not ‘recovery’.

“But I’ve only just had the operation. Don’t I need to stay here?” asked Spike, afraid of the prospect of going somewhere new.

“It has its own fully qualified medical team. The only thing they don’t have is an OR. They liase closely with us and are fully aware of what your operation entailed and what your injuries consist of, so there is no reason to worry. We think it will be good for you to be amongst others in the same situation as you.”

Spike closed his eyes. “Great, a place full of cripples. That’s really gonna help me.”

“We’ll be back for you shortly and you’ll be there in time to enjoy a late breakfast. The food there is excellent - much better than ours,” joked the doctor.

“Couldn’t be worse,” muttered Spike, not amused.

Soon Spike had been transferred to a gurney and had made the journey to what would be his new home whilst undergoing therapy. It was a large house set in beautifully landscaped gardens. As Spike was wheeled in on the gurney he could see various people outside – all in wheelchairs.

“Oh God, I’m never going to walk again,” he thought in despair, “That’s why they’ve sent me here.”

Once in the building, he was approached by a tall thin woman, hair severely drawn back from her face and wearing a grey business suit.

“Hello Mr. Williams. Welcome to Rosedene House. My name is Moira Stephenson and I’m the manager. You’ll find that we have everything needed here to aid your rehabilitation process.”

“That sodding word again.”

“I’ll walk with you to your room,” continued Moira.

Spike winced as she said ‘walk’ and she didn’t miss it. She looked at his closed-in expression and recognised from previous experience that he was sinking into depression over his condition and would have to be monitored most carefully. It often was the athletic types that coped least well with their disabilities.

She cheerfully pointed out various things, none of which Spike took in, as they made their way to his room. It was a large bright room on the ground floor. It had doors leading directly into the gardens and closely resembled a suite in a top class hotel. Only the hospital bed in one corner gave away the fact that it was still a medical facility. Spike eyed the couch and chair grimly. What use were they to him?

“Mr. Angel was very specific about you having the very best that Rosedene has to offer,” said Moira, “He must care for you very much.”

She watched Spike carefully as she spoke, curious as to the relationship the men shared. The doctor at St. David’s had told her how the other man had never left his bedside during his month-long coma. She was certain that the fact that he had barely been there since Spike had regained consciousness had added to her patient’s poor state of mind.

“We’ve known each other for years is all,” muttered Spike, not liking the way the woman was looking at him, “Used to work together before…this.”

She indicated a couple of doors in the far wall. “The one on the left is a small bedroom where a partner, family or friend can stay with you for a few days at a time.”

Again she glanced at Spike, seeing the slight shake of his head as she was talking. Surely such a good looking young man as he wouldn’t lack for friends, even if he had no family as his records had noted. The next of kin was the man he said he worked with.

“The other leads to the bathroom. It is all specially adapted so you will soon be enjoying more independence once we get you out of that bed. Well, Mr. Williams, I shall leave you to settle in. There is a menu on the bedside table for breakfast. Just call it through when you’re ready. Please don’t hesitate to ask if there is anything that you need.”

“Okay.” That was all that Spike could muster as a reply, sighing with relief as she exited the room.

The two orderlies transferred Spike onto the bed and made sure that he was comfortable and had everything within reach. The hospital had removed the cast on his right arm and, although it felt stiff, he was pleased to be able to use it at last.

When he was finally left alone, Spike glanced at his surroundings more carefully. The bed was positioned so that he had a lovely view out into the gardens. There was a TV hung on the wall to the left of his bed, with the controls at his fingertips. He’d already raised the top half of his bed so he was sitting up. He found that in some way being in more ‘normal’ surroundings made him feel worse. It was real and he was alone. He didn’t bother to look at the menu. He wasn’t hungry, and he didn’t think that he’d ever be hungry again. He glared at his legs in frustration.

“Oh Christ, Spike,” he groaned, sinking back into his pillows and closing his eyes.

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Buffy woke to the faint sound of the telephone ringing in the office below. She leapt out of the bed and raced headlong down the stairs, stumbling and nearly falling as she got to the bottom.

“Keep ringing, don’t hang up.”

She dived across the table and picked it up.

“Hello?” she asked breathlessly.

“Buffy?”

“Oh thank God, Angel. Where are you? Where’s Spike?”

“I’m in your apartment in Rome.”

“You’re what?”

“I didn’t think you’d listen to me if I called again and so I thought I’d come over and talk in person,” replied Angel.

“Dawn helped me to get my head around it so I got on the first plane that I could. Where is he, Angel? What’s going on? His duster…”

"Are you sitting down?”

“No, why?” asked Buffy.

“Trust me, I think you’ll need to sit when you hear what I’m about to say.”

Something in his voice made her do as he suggested. “Okay, I’m sitting. Now tell me what the hell is going on?” snapped Buffy, her heart racing.

“I left something out when I told you that Spike had come back, Buffy. After the fight against the Senior Partners, a prophecy was fulfilled and he was returned to human form.” He heard her sharp intake of breath. After a moment of silence he spoke again. “Buffy? Are you still there?”

“I’m…I’m here,” Buffy whispered, “So the blood on his duster happened in the fight, right?”

“No,” replied Angel gently, “No, it didn’t. He took on some Polgaras and they hurt him pretty badly, Buffy.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s in St. David’s hospital. I’m just going to call them to see how he is.”

“You left him all alone in the hospital?” yelled Buffy, “Oh my God, is he unconscious? Is that why you could leave him? Is he going to die?”

“No, he’s not going to die. I know it’s all a lot to take in but shouting at me isn’t going to help Spike,” said Angel, feeling guilty at his inability to cope with being near Spike since he’d refused to bite him. “He’s been seriously hurt. He was in a coma for a month and they were going to operate on him yesterday or the day before, I think.”

“You don’t even know? My God, Angel, that’s terrible.”

“But I came for you. I thought seeing you would give him something to live for.”

“So he didn’t ask for me then?” asked Buffy.

“I don’t think he’s thinking about anything but himself at the moment. He wasn’t coping well with being human again and that’s why he got hurt. I’m worried about him, Buff. That’s why I needed you to see him.”

“Okay, Angel, I’m going to hang up. I need to get to him now.”

Buffy just heard Angel shouting that he was registered as Spike Williams before she put the phone down, missing Angel trying to get her to stay on the line.

“Damn it,” roared Angel. He’d wanted to warn her of Spike’s injuries.

Buffy found the keys to Angel’s car helpfully hanging on a hook and after a brief look at a map she knew where the hospital was. She rushed out of the hotel to the car.

Angel cursed when the hospital told him that Spike had been moved to Rosedene House. He hadn’t thought that they’d discharge him so soon after his operation. He tried to call Buffy back but there was no reply, so he called the hospital again and gave the doctors permission to give details of Spike to his girlfriend. Angel couldn't believe how much it hurt him to say that, but it was the only way that they'd release his details and he didn't want her to get in to Slayer mode with them. He repeated the process at Rosedene House.

000000000

Buffy cursed when she was informed that Spike had been transferred. How could Angel not have known about that? The doctor told her that it was one of the best facilities in the country for people with injuries such as Spike’s.

“What injuries does he have?” asked Buffy, “I’ve been out of the country and came just as soon as news got to me that he was hurt.” She’d had to tell them that she was his girlfriend and used Angel’s name to get to talk to the doctor in the first place. She hoped he’d answer her question.

“Have a seat, Miss Summers,” said the doctor softly.

She glared at him, “I’m fine standing. What is wrong with Spike?”

“I’m afraid to tell you that Mr. Williams is paralysed from the waist down.”

Buffy sat down with a thud in the nearest chair.

“Is it…? Will he…?” She swallowed hard before managing to continue. “Is it permanent?”

“We’re not entirely sure. To be honest he must be incredibly strong as he defied medical odds to survive at all. The operation we performed yesterday removed the pressure that the affected vertebrae were exerting on his nerves. We were very satisfied with how it went and Mr. Williams did have increased feeling and slight movement in his limbs afterwards. He also regained control of his bodily functions which is a very encouraging sign. He does face a lengthy rehabilitation process and what the eventual outcome will be only time will tell.”

He didn’t add that things might have been better for Spike if the operation had been done immediately and that a month of pressure most probably caused permanent damage. It was highly unlikely that he would make a full recovery.

“We transferred him to Rosedene House this morning as they can offer the very best of care and in a more pleasant environment than a regular hospital. We’re lucky to have such a place in the Los Angeles area.”

“Where is it?” asked Buffy, her face pale, “I need to see him. Poor Spike.”

The doctor gave her directions, which thankfully were straightforward, and Buffy walked out of the doctor’s office in a daze.

“Spike is human but he’s been crippled, like I crippled him years ago. Oh God, he hated it then and he knew he would eventually heal. Oh Spike.”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she got into the car. She tried to pull herself together enough to drive.

“Right, Rosedene House here I come.”

tbc

Chapter Eleven

Rejection

Buffy pulled up the long sweeping gravel driveway and parked in the visitors’ lot. She took nothing in as she marched into the building and found reception. It really was like a hotel.

“Good afternoon, how may I help you?”

Buffy glanced at her watch - ten after twelve already? Where had the time gone?

“I’m here to see Mr. Spike Williams. I’m his…girlfriend, Buffy Summers. I’ve been out of the country and need to see him so please don’t tell me it’s not visiting hours,” said Buffy, forcing herself to sound calm.

“We don’t have set visiting times here, Miss Summers. If you take a seat I’ll get Ms. Stephenson, the manager, to come see you and then she’ll take you to Mr. Williams.”

Buffy wanted to scream that she just needed to get to Spike but bit it down and sat as indicated. The tapping of her foot was the only outward sign of her impatience.

“Miss Summers? I’m Moira Stephenson,” said Moira, extending her hand, “Mr. Angel called and told us you were going to visit. Please step into my office for a moment.”

“I’d rather just go to see Spike.”

“And you will, but first let me talk with you, please. My assistant told me that you were out of the country when Mr. Williams had his accident and I think that you need to be fully appraised of his situation before you see him.”

Buffy knew when she was defeated. She shook the offered hand. “Call me Buffy.”

The women walked into Moira’s office. It had oak panelled walls, a large desk and a couple of easy chairs near the fireplace. It was those that they sat in.

“Would you care for a drink? Coffee perhaps?”

“No, no thank you. I don’t mean to be rude but I’m very anxious about seeing Spike as soon as I can. The doctors at St. David’s told me that he’d been paralysed. What more can you tell me? He’s only been here a matter of hours.”

“The main reason that he was transferred here so soon after his operation was because of his state of mind. As you can imagine, paralysis is a difficult thing to come to terms with for anyone and some cope better than others. I’m afraid that Mr. Williams isn’t coping very well at all. He’s getting more withdrawn and St. David’s told me that he had pushed away the friend who sat with him throughout his month long coma. It was felt that the sooner that he was out of the usual hospital environment and in our more personal, informal facility the better it would be for him. At present he will be confined to his bed for the remainder of the week due to the surgery and then we can really start his therapy. Getting him into a wheelchair and moving out and about independently will be a big boost to his well being.”

Buffy just couldn’t get the picture out of her mind of Spike confined to a wheelchair. God, she loved the way he moved, that cocky swagger of his, his feline grace in a fight.

“Oh God.” She buried her head into her hands and sobbed.

Moira leaned over and put a hand on Buffy’s arm. “I know this is an awful shock for you but if you are to see Mr. Williams I really need you to be strong for him.”

Buffy glanced up at the woman who held out a tissue for her to dry her eyes with.

“Thank you,” mumbled Buffy, “It’s just…I can’t imagine…he’ll hate it.”

“You need to let him know that you love him no matter what.”

“I do. I missed him so much since he d…er…since I went to Italy.” Buffy corrected herself just in time. “Can I see him now please?”

“If you’ll wait here for a moment I’ll just go and check that he’s not resting and is ready for visitors.”

“But…”

Moira silenced her with a stern look, “I won’t be long.”

The tall woman strode out of the office and after a brief hesitation Buffy got up and followed her, carefully making sure that the woman was unaware of it. Her Slayer skills at tracking demons was coming in handy.

Moira could hear raised voices as she approached Spike’s room.

“I don’t want any soddin’ lunch,” yelled Spike.

“How about something light? An omelette perhaps?” replied the nurse, completely unfazed by his show of temper.

“Are you even listening to me at all? I’m not hungry so just piss off and leave me alone.”

“There is no need to use language like that, Mr. Williams,” said Moira firmly as she walked in, “Carol is simply doing her job and doesn’t deserve to be shouted at.”

Spike took a deep breath in an effort to calm down. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but when I say that I don’t want anything to eat I mean it. I’m not a kid that doesn’t know his own mind.”

“No, you’re a man who is going through an extremely traumatic time. I know that. If you don’t want any lunch that’s fine, but if you don’t eat at least a little dinner I’m afraid we’ll have to have our doctor put you back on a drip. You need nourishment of some sort, Mr. Williams.”

“I just want to be left alone,” said Spike, who was still smarting from having had to call for help to use the bed pan, “Please.”

He glanced at the doorway, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“Buffy?” He stared at her in horror.

Moira whipped around, “I asked you to wait in my office.”

“I’m sorry but I just need to see him. I couldn’t wait.”

“Waited nearly a year, didn’t you, and now you pop up. This has got Peaches written all over it,” snarled Spike.

Buffy went to his bed and took hold of his hand. He pulled it away.

“I came as soon as I knew that you were…that you’d gotten back from Sunnydale,” said Buffy, mindful of the two pairs of ears listening. “God, Spike, I’ve missed you so much.” She reached out to stroke his cheek. He batted her hand away.

“Don’t touch me. Just get out. I don’t want to see you. You didn’t come when Andrew told you I was back and I don’t need your guilt, sympathy or fucking pity.” His voice rose to a scream. “Go away!”

“Miss Summers.” Moira touched her arm. “I think that perhaps we’d better leave Mr. Williams to calm down a little.”

Buffy stared at Spike, “But Andrew…”

“Get out,” roared Spike, but he’d never once had the courage to meet her eyes.

Moira increased the pressure on Buffy’s arm and she glanced up at the manager before slowly walking to the door. She paused before stepping through it.

“I meant what I said, you know. I really did.”

Spike kept looking anywhere except at her. “Please leave.”

The words cut deep into Buffy’s heart, all the more for them being so quietly spoken. Without saying anything more, she walked back to Moira’s office with her. Carol followed them out, closing the door behind her.

Spike grabbed the glass that stood on the bedside table and hurled it at the wall, gaining some satisfaction as it smashed into tiny pieces. Then he buried his head in his hands and wept like a baby.

00000000

Moira was furious. The woman marched so quickly back to the office that Buffy had to jog a little to keep up. She threw the door open and closed it with a bang once Buffy had stepped inside.

“That was exactly the reason why I wanted to talk to Mr. Williams about you first. How dare you just walk in like that? His feelings are the important ones right now, not your own,” she snapped.

Buffy looked at her in stunned silence.

“You will have set him back weeks.” Moira continued. “A positive mental attitude is essential following such an injury. It can make an unbelievable difference to the patient.”

Moira took a deep breath and stopped her tirade when she saw the tears falling down Buffy’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Buffy, “Oh, I can never get things right with Spike.”

“Would you like that coffee now?” asked Moira, “I think we need to have a chat, don’t you?”

“Thank you,” said Buffy, “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just needed to see him so badly.”

“Can you please explain to me why you described yourself as his girlfriend and yet Mr. Williams said he’d hadn’t seen you for almost a year? If you are here purely out of guilt then you will do more harm than good.”

“It’s complicated,” said Buffy.

“I’ve got plenty of time so try telling me. It might even help,” replied Moira.

“Okay,” said Buffy slowly, “Spike and I had a relationship that ended almost a year ago when he was …er…reported missing, feared dead from an…er…expedition he was on.” Buffy tried to think of a reasonable explanation. “I moved away when I gave up hope of him being alive. Until I had a call a couple of days ago I’d thought that he was dead. But apparently he’d been found alive and for reasons known only to himself, he never got back in touch with me. His…er…colleague, Angel, called me because he thought that I might be able to help him come to terms with it. But I’ve just made things worse.”

Moira regretted her harsh words as Buffy obviously cared deeply for Mr. Williams.

“He’s just lashing out at everyone, Buffy, not at you in particular. It’s a common reaction. I have to admit that I am worried about him though.”

“So what can I do? He doesn’t want to see me, but I can’t just walk away from him,” replied Buffy, cringing at her choice of words.

“We’ll work something out,” soothed Moira.

00000000

The door to Spike’s room opened. He didn’t look at who was walking in, and he just prayed that it wasn’t Buffy again.

“Hi Spike, how are you settling in?” said a cheery voice.

“You have got to be kidding,” groaned Spike. Could this day get any worse?

“Why do you always say that when I come to visit you?” said Brad, the physiotherapist, with a grin, “I’ll start thinking that you don’t like me.”

Spike rolled his eyes, “I thought you worked at St. David’s?”

“I do, but I work here most of the time,” replied Brad, “I told you that I’d be working with you after the op.”

“Must have forgot,” said Spike grumpily.

Brad sat in the chair near to Spike’s bed.

“So how are things since the op then?”

“Didn’t the doctors tell you?” asked Spike.

“Well…yeah,” said Brad, “but I was hoping to hear your side of the story.”

Spike shrugged and avoided meeting Brad’s eye. Seeing the young man again just seemed to emphasis what he’d lost.

“Come on, Spike, just talk to me, okay? Where’s the harm in that?”

“Why is everybody always telling me what I should do?” said Spike, his voice full of resentment. “It’s like what I want doesn’t matter anymore. It’s my soddin’ legs that don’t work, not my brain.”

Brad watched the bedridden man as he spoke, his body language said even more about his mental state than his bitter words did. It wasn’t unusual for them to rage at the world that had inflicted this on them but unlike the other patients that Brad had worked with, Spike didn’t seem to have anyone there to support him. It was a tough thing to have to go through alone.

“Yes, it must be frustrating for you when we’re all telling you that we know best but the thing is, Spike, at this point we really do,” said Brad.

Spike glared at him. “Just sod off and leave me alone.”

“Sorry Spike, no can do. I’m here to help you and that’s what I intend to do. If you won’t cooperate then that’s fine, things will just take longer. Let’s face it, if I start to work on your legs there’s not much you can do about it, is there?” goaded Brad, correctly assessing that it would have more effect than sympathy.

“Christ, that was low, throwing that in my face,” snarled Spike.

“True though, isn’t it? So you’re just going to sit here alone and not even try to get any better? The operation went really well, so the surgeon told me, and you’ve given up even before we’ve started any therapy.”

Spike sat up straight and then leaned forwards a little, supporting himself with his left arm and pointing at Brad with his right hand. “That’s easy for you to say,” he snapped, “So now I know when I need the bleeding bathroom and I can just about wriggle my toes. How is that any better that it was, really? I still can’t go on my own and have some bloody privacy about it and my legs feel like they’re on fire no matter what medication I’m on. Can’t say a future of that holds much appeal.”

“Okay, so let’s take it one step at a time,” said Brad calmly, “First thing we need to do is get it so you can go to the bathroom alone, right? That’s not going to be too difficult to achieve. You look like you’ve got good upper body strength. A bit of work on the arm that you broke and we’ll have you in a wheelchair in no time.”

Spike visibly recoiled. Being in a wheelchair years ago, dependant on Angelus and Drusilla for his food, didn’t conjure up the image of independence that Brad was trying to paint. Brad didn’t miss the reaction.

“Look, I know the thought of being in a chair isn’t something that you care for but trust me, it’s better than being stuck in this bed, staring at these four walls and having to buzz for help every time that you need the bathroom, or a drink, or if you drop the TV remote,” said Brad, “You can’t do this alone, Spike, you need a friend…”

“So that’s what this is all about?” yelled Spike, cutting him off, “I’m not bloody seeing her, not now, not ever, okay? I don’t want her soddin’ pity.”

Brad looked puzzled, “Who are you talking about? I was just going to say that I could be a friend as well as your physio.”

“Oh,” said Spike quietly, not meeting his eye.

“So who were you talking about?”

“Nobody. It doesn’t matter. Just forget it.”

“C’mon Spike, I meant it when I said I can be a friend if you’ll let me. It might help to tell me, you know.”

Spike’s emotions were in turmoil. The sight of Buffy had almost made his heart cease to beat once more. He’d thought her effect on him would have faded over time, but one glance at her face and he knew he hadn’t moved on at all - that it was still and always would be all about Buffy. All he wanted was for her to hold him and to be able to breathe in her sweet scent but her turning up now, only after Angel had played the ‘pity’ card, wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t bear it.

“She’s the girl of my dreams, is all,” said Spike quietly. He glanced at Brad who was listening intently. “We were sort of together for a bit then I…um…was listed as missing and well, by the time I’d come back she’d moved to Italy and moved on. I haven’t seen or heard from her since, even though one of her friends knew I was back and okay. I’m not sure why she’s turned up here, apart from guilt or sympathy or both. I don’t need that, Brad. I couldn’t take the look in her eyes, so please don’t try to make me see her, all right?” I just…” his voice faltered a little, “can’t.”

“I understand, Spike. No one needs that,” said Brad, standing up, “So can we start work on this arm of yours now?”

“Um…okay,” said Spike reluctantly.

tbc

Chapter Twelve

Is it Progress?

It was four days since Buffy had burst into Spike’s room at Rosedene with such disastrous consequences, and she’d spent the time at the Old Hyperion. It had been difficult to leave Rosedene but Moira had made her see sense.

The property had several cabins in the far reaches of its grounds. They were used when a patient’s partner came to stay and they had children. The guest room in each suite was too small under those circumstances. Moira had told Buffy that she could have the use of one from tomorrow. Buffy had promised her that there would be no repeat of what she’d done and that she’d wait until Moira gave her permission to see Spike again. She just couldn’t bear to be so far away from him; she wanted to be there in an instant should he decide to see her. She hadn’t bothered to unpack her clothes and so her suitcase was now waiting ready for the morning and her return to Rosedene.

There was a clatter and then a curse from below. Buffy ran down the stairs to see what it was. Angel was standing there with the remnants of the front door in his hand.

“I guess I should have left a key,” he said dryly when he saw her.

Despite feeling angry at Angel for keeping the truth about Spike being alive from her for so long, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, sorry about that but I was in kind of a hurry.”

Angel threw the door down and strode over to her putting his arms around her and drawing her in close.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he whispered.

Buffy wanted to yell at him, to hit him for all of his lies but instead she simply burst into tears.

“Oh Angel,” she sobbed, “It’s just so awful. He won’t see me and he looked so ill…and he can’t walk…Angel, you know how much he’ll hate that…” Her words were lost in a fresh round of sobs.

Angel didn’t say anything, just held her tightly until her tears had subsided.

“Sorry,” said Buffy eventually, pulling out of his arms. “God, Angel, how did we come to this? What a mess.”

Angel’s unbeating heart went out to the tiny blonde - she looked so disconsolate. He didn’t have a clue what to say to her and so wisely said nothing, hoping that it was rhetorical.

“So tell me what happened again. I didn’t really take it in when you told me on the phone. I want to hear everything about Spike from the moment he reappeared to now.”

“Okay, let’s go and sit down somewhere comfortable. It’s going to take a while and I don’t know about you but I need a drink. I thought I was never going to get home. A bomb scare tightened security and I only managed to get on a plane after two days of hiding in the hanger.”

The pair went up the stairs and into Angel’s bedroom. Angel sat in an easy chair and Buffy perched on the edge of the bed. He poured them both a measure of whisky.

“Right, well it all started when I opened a package in my office nineteen days after the Sunnydale Hellmouth was closed…

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Spike lay on his bed. It was almost time for his last dose of medication for the day. It contained what he looked forward to from the moment he awoke in the morning - strong sleeping pills. It meant that he could have a respite from the pain in his legs and a few hours of peaceful oblivion. If he had his own way he’d prefer to sleep the whole time.

There was a tap at the door before it opened, “Here we are, Mr. Williams. I’ve brought your meds.”

Spike groaned quietly as in walked Tina, the most irritating of all the staff he’d encountered so far and the only one that didn’t now call him Spike.

“Are you all comfortable and ready for the night?” she asked in the squeaky voice that set Spike’s teeth on edge.

“Yes,” muttered Spike.

“Do you need help to relieve your bowels?”

“No.” He managed to force the word out between his clenched jaws. “God, just shut up and get the hell out.”

“Oh well, you know just to press for help if you need to in the night,” continued Tina, unaware of the effect she had on the patient. “Here are your pills.”

She passed Spike a small plastic cup with four pills in it. He smiled as he saw his beloved blue ones in the cup next to the anti -inflammatory pills he had throughout the day. She poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the table next to his bed. He took it and washed the pills down with it, drinking all of the water, knowing from experience that the drugs worked quicker if he did. He handed her back the cup and glass and mumbled his thanks.

“Goodnight, Mr. Williams.”

“’Night.”

Alone again, he lay back on the bed and pressed the controls, lowering the top of the bed until it was almost but not completely level, the way he preferred it to be as he slept. He closed his eyes and waited for the drug - induced sleep to come. His thoughts turned, as they had ever since she’d burst into the room, to Buffy. He ached for her to be with him but knew that it just couldn’t happen. He wondered why she’d never gotten in touch after Andrew had discovered that he’d survived the Hellmouth. Okay, so he’d told Andrew not to tell anyone but the boy had never been able to keep his mouth shut. Spike hated the fact that she only turned up after Angel had told her what had happened to him.

He was dreading the next day. Brad had been so pleased with his progress that he was going to get him into a wheelchair in the morning. Spike just couldn’t get his head around how sitting in a wheelchair could be called progress. Thankfully the drugs kicked in and he drifted away from his disquieting thoughts.

00000000

Buffy woke up with a bit of a hangover. Angel, true to his word, had filled her in with everything he could about Spike. Together they’d drunk too much, laughed and cried, not going to sleep until the early hours of the morning. She couldn’t believe that Andrew had actually kept his promise to Spike and hadn’t told her. He did hero-worship Spike so that must have been the key to his silence. The things that Spike had gone through she could hardly comprehend. She’d grimaced when Angel had told her of how the deranged slayer Dana had hacked off Spike’s hands. She wouldn’t have been so sympathetic to her if she’d known. The girl was still under lock and key, too badly broken to mend and lead a normal life. Thankfully the powerful shamen attached to Wolfram and Hart had managed to reattach his hands good as new.

Buffy got up after spending the night, like all the others, snuggled in Spike’s bed. Her stomach felt queasy but that was more due to the fact that today she could go back to Rosedene House than the hangover. She had an appointment with Moira at ten thirty and then she’d be shown the cabin where she would be staying. She’d called Moira every day to see how Spike was doing. Buffy had been heartened to hear that the physiotherapist was working with him and the general consensus was that Spike was beginning to settle in.

Buffy took a long hot shower before dressing and going downstairs. She was greeted with the smell of coffee and was touched that Angel had taken the trouble to make it for her. Unlike Spike, apart from liquor, Angel didn’t touch normal human food or drink.

“Morning Angel,” she said as she walked into the office.

“Morning, Buffy.” He offered her a cup of coffee, remembering how she liked it.

“Thanks, just what I needed.”

He smiled at her and produced a box of doughnuts. “Not the healthiest of breakfasts, I know, but I thought that you might like one or two.”

She peered into the box, “Oh yum, chocolate.” She pulled one out and bit into it greedily. “Mm, good cure for a hangover, I think.”

“So how are you today?”

“Okay, I guess. I’m nervous about going back to Rosedene but hopefully Moira will help convince Spike to see me soon. I mean, he does love me, right?” asked Buffy anxiously.

“I’m certain of it, Buff. It’s just his pride that made him push you away. He was the same with me in the hospital.”

“Are you going to see him today now that you’re back?”

Angel hadn’t told Buffy about Spike asking him to turn him but he knew he couldn’t keep away forever. Spike needed someone, even if only to yell at.

“Yeah, I’ll go and see him. Hopefully he’ll let me. I’ll drive you and see him while you’re talking to the manager,” he replied.

“Thanks, Angel. It’s good that you and Spike had actually started getting along better,” said Buffy with a smile. She was pleased that Angel would be there as she could do with someone to lean on.

0000000

Spike woke up reluctantly, trying to cling to sleep. He hated that his day started with him having to be helped to use the bedpan. Perhaps Brad was right? Maybe getting into the wheelchair and being able to use the toilet was something to aim at?

He pressed the buzzer for help, secure in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be Tina again since she had worked late the night before. He was pleased to see that it was Carl who came to help him. He felt less embarrassed when one of the male nurses helped him.

By nine thirty he’d eaten his breakfast and was waiting for Brad’s arrival. He felt tense and just wanted to get it over with. He glared at his useless legs and tried to move them, but only his toes took any notice of the messages he was sending. Admittedly they were moving more than immediately after the operation but he still felt panicked that they hadn’t improved futher.

“You look happy,” said Brad sarcastically as he walked into the room, startling Spike.

“Yeah…well…sodding things still won’t hardly move,” said Spike grumpily.

“Things take time, Spike. Don’t push it,” replied Brad.

“Suppose I’ve got plenty of that now, haven’t I?” said Spike with a sigh.

“Shall I go out and come back in again?” asked Brad with a grin, trying to prod Spike out of his depressive thoughts.

“Go and don’t some back at all if you like, and take that sodding thing with you,” said Spike, eyeing the wheelchair with distaste and deciding that he really wasn’t ready for this after all.

“It’s a good thing that I don’t take offence very easily,” said Brad, “Nervous about this, I take it?”

Spike didn’t reply, he just glanced up and met Brad’s eyes for the first time that morning, his expression telling Brad all he needed to know.

“Got something that you might be pleased about,” said Brad, taking a bag off the seat of the wheelchair and holding it up.

“What’s that then?”

Brad tipped the contents onto the bed.

“Thought you might like to get out of that hospital gown, although it has to be said blue does suit you.”

“If you say that it goes with my eyes I’ll hit you,” said Spike with a grin. He liked Brad. He was the only one of the staff that didn’t seem like they were walking on eggs all of the time they were with him.

“Better not say that then, you’re pretty strong,” joked Brad.

“So what have you got me to wear?” Spike pulled at the pile of clothes. “At least you got the colour right.”

“Figured that I couldn’t go wrong with black,” replied Brad. “It’s just sweat pants and a t-shirt, stuff that’s easy to get in and out of,” said Brad, “Let me help you get dressed and we can get started.”

“Won’t be needing those,” said Spike, as Brad handed him a pair of underpants, “Never really seen the point of them.”

“Is that right?” grinned Brad.

Spike just smirked and raised an eyebrow in reply. Then it hit him. His reason for not wearing them was so that there was one less thing to take off when he was with a girl.

“Shit, those days are over.” There hadn’t been so much as a stirring in that department since he’d been injured. Not even the prettiest nurse, Carol, had had an effect on him, though he was sure she would have before. He didn’t think it was just because he loved Buffy either.

Brad noticed Spike close down again. He put the underpants back into the bag. “So what’s your view on socks?”

“What?” asked Spike, “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Just need your opinion on socks.”

Despite himself Spike couldn’t help but smile. “Socks are fine.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” said Brad, “Okay, let’s get you out of that gown.”

He helped to pull it off Spike and then gave him the t-shirt to put on. Brad caught Spike’s anxious look when he picked up the sweatpants. So without making a fuss he showed Spike how to pull his legs up one at a time. Lifting them by the back of the knee and drawing them towards him with the foot on the mattress until he could reach to thread the pants over his feet. Spike was surprised at how heavy they were. The fact that Spike could move his feet a little helped him to get them into the legs of the pants. The tricky part of pulling them over his bottom was achieved by laying his legs flat again and then leaning over one way and then the other and giving a good tug. Spike was disheartened at how hard it all seemed and how long it had taken.

“Shall I do your socks for today?” offered Brad.

“No.” said Spike sharply, “I’ll do it.”

Brad gave him the socks and then stepped back, pleased that Spike’s stubborn streak was working for him for a change instead of against him. Spike leaned forward and pulled his left knee up until his foot was within reach. He concentrated hard and made his toes lift up from the bed. He pulled the sock on and then slid his leg back down and repeated it with the other, grunting with satisfaction when he managed it. He glanced up at Brad who had the good sense not to say anything patronising like ‘well done’.

“Looks like you’re good to go.” He wheeled the chair closer to the bed.

Spike swallowed hard and nodded.

“Okay, the first thing to do is to get the bed as low as we can. It should go just about level with the seat of the chair.” Brad pushed a button on the controls and the bed started to drop. “There, that’s it,” said Brad, “This can be a bit tricky to start with, okay? So don’t beat yourself up if you can’t manage without a bit of help from me.”

“Want to try it on my own first, though,” said Spike quietly.

“Sure, just let me talk you through it one time,” replied Brad before explaining how important the positioning of the chair was and what to move first.

“Have you got that?”

Spike nodded and with determination he followed Brad’s instructions to the letter. He had a bit of a wobble which made Brad tense himself, ready to move in to prevent Spike from falling, but he righted himself and made it into the chair safely.

“’S nothing to it,” he panted, grinning at Brad.

“Trust me, Spike, most people struggle with that for quite some time. You’re really strong.”

Spike felt ridiculously pleased to hear it.

“One thing I need you to wear, though, before you try to get into your chair if I’m not here is this.” Brad passed Spike a loop of cord with a piece of plastic hanging from it.

“What is it?”

“It’s an emergency buzzer. If you fall or anything and need help, you can press that and someone will come straight to you. It’s just a portable version of the buzzer near your bed.”

“Okay.” Spike grimaced a bit but put it over his head and made Brad smile when he tucked it out of sight beneath the neck of his shirt.

“Shall we go outside for a while? You’re really pale. A bit of sun will do you good.”

Brad couldn’t understand why Spike seemed to think that comment was hilarious. The time in the hospital had faded what little tan Spike had acquired before the injury and he was vampire white again.

“I feel like you’re having a private joke at my expense. Remember, Spike, I can really get my own back on you tomorrow when I start working on your legs,” he said as Spike struggled to stop laughing. It was a good sound and one that Brad had feared he’d never hear.

“Sorry mate,” snorted Spike, “Yeah, I could do with a bit of a tan. Do you reckon I’ll freckle?”

“God knows,” grinned Brad, “Great room, this. You can get outside without having to go all through the corridors.” He stepped behind Spike to push him.

“No, I can do it.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” he said, holding his hands up in mock defeat and stepping back to his side.

Spike put his hands on the wheels, his stomach turning over at how familiar it felt, even after all these years. He wheeled his way to the door. After a few attempts he managed to open it and propel himself out onto the patio and into the warm sunshine. He raised his face to meet its rays, closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

“Good to be outside again, isn’t it?”

“It is,” agreed Spike, “Does this thing work off road?”

“What? Do you want to go onto the lawns?”

“Yeah, thought I’d get the lay of the land so to speak,” replied Spike.

“It’ll be fine on the grass. It’ll be a bit harder to push, though, so I’ll help you and no argument. It’s only because of your right arm. It’s not up to full strength yet and you need to be careful of it.”

“Okay, you can push,” said Spike, “but don’t take me near anybody else, all right? I just want to see the view, not make conversation.”

“I’ll go wherever you tell me. So where to first?”

Spike pointed to the far side of the lawn, “Over there I reckon.”

tbc

Chapter Thirteen

Another Visitor

Angel drove Buffy to Rosedene house in the Viper that he’d stolen and hidden away before the big fight with Wolfram & Hart. The vampire-friendly glass in its windows made getting around in the daytime that much easier. He was just going to have to park the damn thing right outside of the front door so he could get inside quick enough to avoid bursting into flames. He glanced at Buffy. She’d been silent on the journey over. Both of them were nervous about what would greet them when they arrived.

It was a beautiful day and many patients were outside, some with their families and others with members of the medical staff.

“Christ, he’ll be hating this,” thought Angel and Buffy simultaneously.

Luckily for Angel the front of the house was in deep shade and by pulling close to the door he got inside without so much as a wisp of smoke. They checked in at reception and waited to be taken into Moira Stephenson’s office. Neither could sit down, both preferring to stand, with Buffy pacing restlessly.

“Buffy, hello again,” said Moira as she approached them, “And this must be Mr. Angel, Spike’s friend and benefactor.”

“Just call me Angel,” he said, extending his hand to her, “I’m not big into titles. I’m hoping that I can see Spike today.”

“I will check with him that he wants to see you, as he didn’t appreciate a surprise visitor last time, did he?” she smiled kindly at Buffy to reassure her that no grudges were being held, whilst shaking Angel’s hand.

Buffy nodded, “Good idea.”

“I saw him go out into the garden with Brad so I’ll get someone to show you to his room and then they’ll check with him and see what he wants to do. While you’re doing that Buffy and I can get everything arranged in my office,” said Moira. She turned to the receptionist, “Pamela, can you please ask Carol to show Angel to Spike’s room and then check with him to see if he wants to see him? If the answer is no, please ask her to let Angel know.”

“Thank you. Just make sure that he gets anything that he needs or wants. Money is not an issue,” said Angel, offering his hand once more, “It’s been a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Moira was glad that she didn’t blush easily as the intensity of the tall man’s gaze made her tingle. He was almost the total opposite of Spike, tall, dark and broad whereas Spike was shorter, more leanly built and well…peroxide blond, but both men were stunning in their own way.

Carol appeared and led Angel away and Buffy and Moira made their way to the office.

000000000

Spike had taken over propelling himself for a while and Brad had let him have his way because it obviously meant a lot to Spike’s self-esteem. He was walking alongside the wheelchair, neither man talking. Brad knew by now that Spike hated it when people constantly babbled at him for no reason. Brad suddenly realised that Spike had stopped. He glanced back and saw that he was staring at a car coming up the driveway. Spike was rigid, his already pale face ashen.

“So Granddaddy’s back,” whispered Spike, his gaze following the car’s progress until it went out of sight behind the shrubs near the front of the house.

“Spike, are you okay?” asked Brad, “What did you say?”

“Um, what? Oh.” He glanced in the direction where he’d last seen the car. “Um…it’s Angel.”

“About time, too,” thought Brad, remembering how Spike had said that he hadn’t really seen him since he’d regained consciousness.

“Do you want to see him?” asked Brad gently, “You don’t have to.”

“I dunno,” said Spike. His heart was racing. Why was the great poofter here? To see how he was getting on or to try to get him to see Buffy?

Carol walked over the lawn towards them.

“Hello, Spike, you’ve got a visitor. Do you want to see him? It’s Angel and I have shown him to your room but I can soon tell him no, if you’re not up to it.”

Spike hesitated, but the truth was he’d missed Angel.

“It’s okay, Carol. I’ll see him, thanks.” He glanced up at Brad who put his hands on the chair’s handles and began to push Spike back towards his room.

“I could bring him out here if you’d prefer?” said Carol, “It seems a shame to be inside on such a lovely day.”

“Thanks, Carol, but I reckon I’m ready for a bit of a rest when he’s gone so I’ll see him in my room.”

Spike let Brad push him until he was almost back to the door to his room. He put his hands onto the wheels and, without being told, Brad let go and walked beside Spike, who gave him a brief grateful smile and then took a deep breath and pushed his way into the room.

Angel was stood near to the bed and turned as they entered.

“Spike,” he said quietly.

“Angel.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” said Brad after a second or two, “I’ll see you later on, Spike, and don’t try to get out of the chair on your own, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks mate.” Spike knew he was being rude by not introducing them but he just wanted Brad to leave.

Vampire and former vampire stared at each other until the door closed behind Brad.

“Why are you here?”

“How are you doing?”

Both spoke at the same time. Spike inclined his head indicating that Angel was to go first.

“How are you doing?” he asked, wishing that he could think of something more eloquent but he’d never been the best with words. That was Spike’s speciality; he normally had more words than anybody wanted to hear.

Spike gaped at him. “Do you really want to know or are you just being polite?”

He wished Angel would sit down. He was too bloody tall next to him even when he could stand. He pushed the chair back a few feet so that he didn’t have to look up at him so sharply

“Of course I want to know, Spike,” said Angel quietly.

“Really? What, like you wanted to know how I was feeling about being operated on? Oh sorry, I forgot, you didn’t ask me ‘cause you weren’t soddin’ there, you git.”

“You know where I went. I went to see Buffy.”

“Couldn’t phone then? Christ, I know you’re old but phones have been around for years. I thought you’d’ve got the hang of them by now.”

“She kept hanging up on me,” said Angel.

Spike snorted. “That figures. Didn’t want to know, did she? Not until you dragged her back.” He managed to turn the chair around so that he had his back to Angel.

“That’s not…”

“Shut up!” shouted Spike. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to talk about her so unless you’ve got anything else to say you can go now.”

Angel gritted his teeth. God, Spike could be infuriating. He counted to ten before he spoke.

“That’s okay, I won’t mention her at all. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you before the operation.”

“Or after it,” muttered Spike.

“Can we just sit down and talk?” asked Angel.

“It might have escaped your notice, but I already am sitting down,” said Spike bitterly.

He spun the chair around again to face Angel who walked over and sat on the couch.

“I think I’ll just shut up. I’m not going to end up saying anything that doesn’t piss you off.”

“Nothing new there then, Peaches,” said Spike, with a hint of a smile.

Angel glanced up at him, grateful for his more conciliatory tone. “Yeah, we’ve had our share of spats, haven’t we?”

“We have at that,” agreed Spike.

There was an awkward silence.

“Um, so has anything changed since the operation?”

Spike bit back an angry retort about how sitting in a wheelchair sort of answered that in the negative already. Peaches was trying.

“I can wriggle my toes, look.”

Angel glanced at Spike’s toes and then his face with such discomfort that Spike had to snicker.

“I can also piss again. Yay bonus!”

Angel looked like he was going to heave.

“Sorry Peaches,” said Spike, “They all seem to think that both are good signs but I’m…I’m not so sure.” He took a deep breath. “Got lots of shooting pains in my legs since the operation so that’s got to be better than feeling nothing, right?”

“Christ, Spike,” murmured Angel, the guilt at seeing his friend like that was almost unbearable.

“Yeah, well. At least I’ve got a good room, eh? Courtesy of your ill gotten gains, I reckon.”

“Courtesy of Wolfram & Hart. There’s millions, Spike. You’ll want for nothing.”

“What a stupid expression,” mused Spike, “Does anyone ever really want for nothing? Surely there’s always something that they can’t have?” He shook his head sharply.

“I saw that you’d nicked the Viper too, though I can understand why you didn’t let me know ‘cause that car is really mine.”

“You saw the Viper?” said Angel, worried that Spike had also seen Buffy.

“Yeah, just as you came down the drive. How did you get in without spontaneously combusting anyway?”

“The front of the house is in the shade,” replied Angel with relief. He hadn’t seen them get out of the car.

“Could’ve been a bit risky otherwise,” said Spike, “Why didn’t you come when it was dark? There’s no rules about visiting times.”

“Will do next time. I didn’t know that. I just thought that I’d have more chance of seeing you in the daytime. So what…er…therapy are you having?”

“Um, well…we’re starting on the legs tomorrow. Had to wait for a bit after the op but Brad, that’s who was here before, says that I’m doing well enough to start a bit sooner than expected.”

“That’s got to be good then,” said Angel.

“I don’t know but…” his voiced trailed away and he looked off, avoiding Angel’s eyes, “…I’m not sure that I can live like this.”

Angel closed his eyes praying that Spike wouldn’t ask him to turn him again. He opened them when Spike said nothing more. He got up and walked over to him, then put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be all right, Spike, I know it.” Then he bolted from the room.

“Yeah, Peaches, I’ll be just fine,” Spike said to the empty room.

00000000

Moira and Buffy had discussed the terms of her stay in one of Rosedene’s cabins – basically absolutely no contact with Spike until he requested it. They planned to tell Spike that Buffy was staying on site in a few days time depending on how Spike seemed. It was decided that Angel would visit Spike each evening and they’d be able to gauge Spike’s emotions by his reaction to those visits. Moira knew that many patients pushed their loved ones away but really were desperate to be with them.

Moira walked with Buffy to the cabin. It was out of sight of the main house and Buffy was glad of having slayer strength to tap into as she carried her suitcase across with her.

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Moira,” said Buffy as she put her case down on the bed in the larger of the cabin’s two bedrooms.

“That’s all right. It’s going to be easier for you than staying in a hotel. The nearest one is four miles away. None of the cabins are being used at the moment so it’s not a problem at all. The telephone will connect you to our switchboard unless you dial 9 first. If you contact our kitchens you can have all of your meals delivered here. The menu is by the telephone,” said Moira, “Are you sure that you won’t get lonely staying here?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll be seeing Angel every evening and hopefully it won’t be too long before Spike will allow me to see him again,” said Buffy, trying hard to keep her voice as positive as her words. She really wasn’t sure that Spike would ever want to see her again.

tbc

Chapter Fourteen

I’ve Never Been Average

“That’s it,” panted Spike, “No more, I’m knackered.”

“Just two more to go,” coaxed Brad.

Spike glared at him but gritted his teeth and willed his right leg to move against Brad’s grip.

“Come on, Spike, you can do it.” Brad was holding his foot in his right hand with the leg, which was bent at the knee, being supported by his left. Spike’s leg moved a little, pushing Brad’s hand back as the knee straightened slightly.

“That’s great,” said Brad as he pushed the leg back in to its original position. “One more and you’re done.”

Spike repeated the action and then relaxed with a sigh once he’d done it. Brad lay his leg back down.

“You’re doing amazingly well, Spike. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed in the physiotherapy room.

“Seems like a lot of pain and not much gain to me,” grumbled Spike. The top of the bed was raised so that he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Not much gain?” said Brad, “God, you’re a hard man to please. What could you do when you first arrived?”

Spike stared at him for a moment, “I could wriggle my toes.”

“And what can you do now?” said Brad, grinning as Spike rolled his eyes at him.

“I can move my legs a bit.”

“And how long has it taken to make this progress?”

“All right, point taken, piss off,” said Spike but he was smiling.

“How long?” insisted Brad, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Ten days since I came here and six since we started working on them,” said Spike sulkily but really joking.

“Honestly Spike, kidding aside, you’re doing brilliantly.” He saw Spike open his mouth to protest and so continued. “I know that it’s going to take time and that you’ll hate me for sure after all the work I’ll put you through but you’ve surpassed any expectations that I had for you in this first week of therapy.”

“’S all right Brad, I hear what you’re saying. I guess that I’ve never really had that much patience until now.”

Brad laughed, “What do you mean ‘until now?’ You still have absolutely no patience. But I’m not complaining. You’re the model patient as far as your therapy goes.”

“What? Aren’t I a model patient in every respect?” asked Spike innocently.

“No, you’re bloody not.” Brad mimicked Spike’s English accent, badly. “You’re an awkward sod.”

Spike cuffed him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t give up the day job, mate. You won’t make a living doing impressions.”

Brad glanced at Spike. He was delighted with how he seemed to be coping better these days. He seemed to relish the physio sessions they had twice a day. The physical exercise was doing his mental state a lot of good. Spike worked hard on his upper body strength as well as the exercises on his legs. Brad knew that Spike was in pain most of the time but he seldom complained. He was still on sleeping pills every night to ensure that he got some proper rest.

“Well, that’s us finished for today. Want a hand to get a shower?” asked Brad smiling, knowing what the answer would be.

“No thanks, I can manage,” said Spike predictably.

Brad worried a little about how much Spike was doing alone but so far he’d been fine. He really was exceptionally strong and that, coupled with his determination, made him as independent as he could be. Brad watched as Spike manoeuvred himself into his chair. Perhaps the nightly visits from his friend Angel were helping him? Though he’d seemed down after the first one.

“Take it easy then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“For another torture session, you git,” said Spike with a grin, “See you.”

Spike envied the fact that Brad got to go home every night. He hadn’t done more than nod to any of the other patients. He didn’t want to make friends with them. He didn’t want to hear them talking about their lives or meet their kids. So he just kept himself to himself, eating his meals in his room and never in the dining room.

He pushed himself slowly along the corridors back to his room. His room was at the front of the building in the original part of the house. It had been extended several times and there was quite a warren of corridors leading to and from the various additions. He made his way into his room and to the bathroom. The specially adapted room featured everything it possibly could to make using it easy for the disabled.

The shower had a seat so he could get from his chair on to it, sliding the door shut once he was undressed. He turned it on and washed the sweat from his session from his body, soaping himself methodically. He stared idly at his limp penis as he washed it.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to wake up anytime soon? I wonder if it’s the drugs?” he thought hopefully, “Mind you, no libido is less to worry about than if it was the other way, now that could be right embarrassing.”

He dried himself and then got dressed in the clean clothes that he’d laid ready. He pulled a face at yet another pair of sweatpants. He missed his jeans but knew that he’d struggle to get the tightly fitting things on. He shook his head rapidly.

“Come on Spike, don’t start getting all bleeding sorry for yourself again.” He told himself firmly. But it was hard not to feel depressed.

He went out into the main room and turned on the TV as he waited for Angel’s arrival. For the first couple of days after he’d begun to use the wheelchair, he’d gotten out of it to sit in the armchair in an attempt to feel more ‘normal’, but he’d decided the effort that it took just wasn’t worth it and now he stayed in his wheelchair until he went to bed.

He rolled over and opened the door that led out to the gardens. That was one good thing about Angel throwing about the cash purloined from Wolfram & Hart; he did have the best room that Rosedene could offer. He breathed in the evening air, still feeling a tingle when dusk began to creep in, a habit formed by over a century of waiting with eager anticipation for it to fall so that he could go and roam the night.

He heard the door open and turned in time to see Angel walking in.

“Hi Spike,” he said as he sprawled out on the couch.

“So what have you been doing then? Bagged any baddies?”

Angel smiled at him. He always wanted to talk about the action but since it seemed to make him happy he duly obliged, chatting away about the calls that he’d taken and the deeds that he’d done.

“Got to take an Emfonwad demon out on the way home,” he told him.

“Christ, be careful, they’re tricky little suckers,” said Spike, “I remember one time when a bunch of them got the jump on me and Drusilla in Monaco. I nearly ended up dust.”

“Well, this is just one. It’s been causing trouble in an underground garage and so it has got to go.”

“Angel,” said Spike after they’d been talking for about an hour.

“What?”

“Look, you don’t have to come every night, you know.”

“No, I don’t have to, Spike. I want to,” replied Angel. It was true, he needed to see that Spike was okay and seeming happier to assuage the guilt he still felt for letting him get hurt in the first place.

“I know, Peaches, but what I’m saying is, if you don’t make it over one night that I’ll be okay.”

“So, you don’t want me to come, is that it?” Angel scowled at him.

“No, that’s not what I said. It’s just that if you’re too busy…”

“Too busy?” snapped Angel, “Too busy to come and see my family? That’d be real rich.” God, Spike always made things difficult.

“Family?” said Spike quietly, all thought of bickering with Angel forgotten.

“Yeah? So?”

“Well…I’m not anymore, am I? I’m just…”

“Freaking irritating, that’s what you are,” interrupted Angel, “You’re family. Just because some prophecy made you human, it doesn’t mean that you’re not still my grandchilde. Although I’ve never really forgiven Dru for siring you in the first place, little dork that you were.”

“I was not,” protested Spike.

“Oh no? ‘Course you weren’t, with your little books of poetry and your fluffy hair…”

“Your sodding hair grows straight up!”

“At least you could leave your spectacles behind afterwards. I don’t think William the Bloody would have been quite so scary if you still had to peer through those. You’d never have caught a meal if someone knocked them off.”

“My eyesight wasn’t that bad,” said Spike.

Angel stared hard at him.

“What?” asked Spike.

“How’s your sight now?”

“Same as it ever was. It’s my legs that are fucked, Peaches, not my eyes,” he snapped.

“No, it’s just that if you were returned to your human form, returned to what you were before being a vampire, then surely you’d need your glasses again.”

“I dunno, I never really thought about it,” said Spike.

“I just wonder if…no…” Angel shook his head.

“What? C’mon, you can’t start and then not tell me.”

“Well, I just think that you’re Spike made human…”

“I’m not soddin’ Angel made human, am I?” interrupted Spike.

“Just let me finish,” roared Angel, “I think that you’re a human version of the vampire you were, not that you went back to the human you had been.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning, mate. How is one different from the other? They’re both me.”

“I’m not sure. Did you notice anything before you got yourself taken out by the Polgaras? How did you feel? I never go to spar with you but you used the training room. What was it like?”

“I felt as weak as a kitten,” snarled Spike.

“But do you think that you were stronger than before you met Dru? Or even when you were a young fledge?”

Spike thought for a moment before replying. “I wasn’t really being too rational about it all, too busy being pissed off at not being a vamp anymore, but yeah, I was stronger than before, I’m sure I was. Why do you keep going on about it?”

“You say that Brad thinks you’re doing really well?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m thinking that perhaps if you’re stronger than normal humans that you’ll heal better than normal humans, too.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and a nurse walked in with Spike’s meds. He took the offered cup of pills and a glass of water.

“I’ll wait until Angel goes to take the sleeping pills, okay?”

“Yes, that’s no problem at all. Just take them when you turn in.”

“Thanks, goodnight,” said Spike as she left.

He swallowed two of the tablets, leaving the two blue ones behind for later.

“Sleeping pills?” queried Angel.

“Yeah, I have trouble sleeping because of the pain in my legs during the night.”

“Can’t they do anything about it?” asked Angel, hating that he was hurting.

“Not without using drugs that are seriously addictive and since they don’t know how long I’d need them for we decided against going down that route. A good swig of JD would probably do just as well?” hinted Spike.

“I’ll think about it but it’s not going to mix well with your meds.”

“Just a shot or two won’t hurt me surely? I could just use a drink sometimes, you know?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll bring some,” said Angel, “Getting back to what I was saying before - I’m going to look into it. When you were first hurt they told me that you’d not survive the night. Then they said that you’d never walk again,” said Angel, forgetting that Spike had never been told that.

“Hey, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still not walking,” growled Spike.

“I know but you’ve got feeling and some movement. I don’t think that you’re just an average human,” said Angel animatedly.

“I've never been average at anything,” smirked Spike.

“Apart from poetry you mean? You were well below average for that,” joked Angel.

“I recall you saying that you liked my poetry.”

“I did like some of it.”

“Mind you that’s no compliment coming from you, you like bloody Barry Manilow.”

They both laughed. Angel glanced at his watch. He’d better go. Buffy would be waiting for his nightly report.

“See you tomorrow, Spike.”

“Sure will, Peaches.”

Spike watched him leave. His mind was whirling with what Angel had been talking about. Could he make a full recovery because he perhaps had a little left over from his vampire days?

“One day at a time, Spike. Just take it one day at a time. Won’t get disappointed then.”

tbc

Chapter Fifteen

Watching Over You

After Angel had left Spike used the bathroom and then went to bed, swapping his sweats for a pair of pyjama bottoms. He took the sleeping pills and got into bed. Just before he turned off the light he saw that he’d forgotten to close the door to the garden.

“Oh sod it,” he muttered.

The night was warm and so he left it as it was. Soon the pills took effect and he was soundly asleep.

00000000

Angel tapped on the door to Buffy’s cabin and went in.

“How is he?” she asked as soon as she saw Angel.

“He’s all right, I think. He made me want to hit him at one point so he must be back to normal,” joked Angel.

Buffy stared at him - Angel smiling and joking. Had the world ceased to spin on its axis? She still couldn’t get used to seeing the lighter side of her normally sombre ex.

He told Buffy how Spike was getting on well with his physiotherapy but didn’t share his theory of him being more than a normal human; he needed to check things out first. He did mention that Spike took strong sleeping pills each night to ensure that he got some proper rest.

After he’d gone Buffy went for a walk through the grounds, as she had each night since she’d arrived. She couldn’t go far from her cabin in the day for fear of bumping into Spike and so she roamed about at night instead. She’d passed his room before but had only seen him as a vague shape in the bed. A nightlight that stayed on until dawn dimly illuminated the room. Without thinking of where she was going she found herself at the garden door to his room. She gasped when she saw the door was open, stepping back quickly. Was Spike still awake? She listened but heard nothing and none of the proper lights were on. He must have forgotten to close it.

She stepped through it and into his room, walking to his bedside as silently as she could. His face looked serene in the soft glow of the nightlight.

“Oh, Spike,” she whispered. He looked so beautiful lying there. His hair was showing its roots and was longer than she’d ever seen it. She could hardly resist running her fingers through it. She sat in the chair and just watched him sleep, unable to leave him. She leaned over and kissed him softly on his cheek. He shifted slightly and mumbled something that she didn’t hear. She stayed watching over him for a couple of hours. She held his hand or stroked his arm lightly, just needing to touch him. When she reluctantly decided to go, she had a look at the lock on the garden door and smiled - it wouldn’t be difficult to open if it were locked the next night. If she couldn’t be with him in the daytime, she would watch over him at night.

00000000

Spike groaned as he woke up and realised that what he’d thought was real had just been a dream.

“Shit,” he said as he rubbed a hand over his face.

It had seemed so real. The dream had been so vivid he almost thought he could still smell her perfume. It had taken him back to the night in the run up to the battle with The First, when he’d found her in the deserted house and he’d held her whilst she was slept. It was the best night of his life - undead or otherwise.

He pressed the control on the bed and raised it until he was sitting up. Every day he willed his legs to move to the edge of the bed and every day they ignored him.

“Oh Christ, I can’t take this.”

Whenever he thought that he was going to be okay, that he could deal, something knocked him back. Sometimes just an unintentional wrong word or phrase from somebody but mostly a memory raised its head and reminded him of what he’d lost. He’d stopped having a sleep in the day even though his morning session of therapy usually left him exhausted, because his sleep was always riddled with dreams of Buffy. This was the first time she’d seeped into his drug-induced sleep though.

“Please God, don’t let it be every night.”

He moved his legs into position so he could get into his chair, not taking any satisfaction that his knees lifted off the bed a little to meet his hands. His thoughts were elsewhere. Once sitting in his wheelchair he was brought back to reality when he saw that his pyjamas were tenting. He put a hand down and chuckled a little hysterically as he felt his erection.

“So you’ve woken up then? A bloody dream of the one thing you’re never going to get again and you’re all ready and waiting,” he said, glaring at it.

He got into the shower and leant back against the wall, lifting his face so the water poured over it, washing away the tears that were falling as he dealt with his recently awakened old friend.

00000000

Spike was quiet throughout his morning session of therapy. Brad knew something was bothering him but Spike was tricky to ask about how he was feeling so he didn’t say anything to begin with, just got him working hard.

Brad had Spike using weights so that he kept his upper body as strong as he could and then they worked on his legs. Each day Brad noticed more movement. Progress was slow but definite. It was like Spike had to learn how to use his legs again. Brad worked him through a range of exercises, bending his legs at all the joints. Unaided Spike could now lift his knees some six inches off the bed, but as yet he still couldn’t raise his feet or move them sideways. The more that he worked on him, the more that Brad thought that Spike might one day leave the chair he hated so much. He didn’t say this to Spike because he was already disheartened at how slow the improvements were. Finally at the end of the session Brad decided to bite the bullet and ask Spike what was wrong.

“You’re pretty quiet today, Spike. Are you in more pain than usual?”

Spike glanced up at Brad, “Didn’t sleep too well, that’s all,” he lied. “The pain is in my heart, not my legs.”

“That’s not good. I’ll have a word with the doctor and see what we can do to help.”

“Thanks,” said Spike quietly, “See you later then, yeah?” He heaved himself back into his chair and started to wheel himself away.

“Don’t be late, three pm sharp,” said Brad with a grin, regretting his words as he heard Spike’s muttered reply.

“I won’t. Not got anything else to do, have I?”

000000000

That evening as he waited for Angel’s arrival, Spike hoped that he’d remembered the liquor. God, he needed a drink. He’d been unable to banish Buffy from his thoughts, daydreaming that she wanted him, no matter what, and then coming back to reality with a bang, knowing that she needed someone strong beside her. Her equal, not someone as needy as a child.

“Bollocks,” snarled Spike just as Angel walked in.

“What? I haven’t even said hello and you’re cussing me?”

Spike glanced up at him, “Sorry mate, bad day is all.”

“Why was it bad?” asked Angel, sitting down. He’d noticed how Spike hated looking up at him when he stood.

Spike shook his head, “Nothing, I’m just a bit knackered.”

“Fancy a drink then?” asked Angel with a grin, taking a silver hip flask out of his pocket.

Spike’s face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas Day, “That’d go down real well.”

“For God’s sake, don’t get so wasted that you fall off your bed or anything ‘cause they’ll ban me from coming if they knew I’d brought it.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Spike wheeled himself over and took the flask from him. He unscrewed the cap and lifted the flask to his nose, inhaling deeply before taking a swig. He closed his eyes as the liquor seared its way down.

“Mm…that’s good, Angel. Thanks.”

Angel waited until he’d had another couple of mouthfuls.

“Spike, about Buffy…”

Spike’s head whipped up and he glared at him, his blue eyes blazing.

“Don’t say anything, you promised,” Spike snapped.

“But…”

“I mean it. I’m not what she needs, I never really was and I won’t have her pity.”

“She l…”

“Angel!” roared Spike, “Just shut the fuck up!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

The two sat in an uncomfortable silence until Spike’s evening meds were brought in.

“Look, I’m knackered. I want to go to sleep now,” said Spike.

Angel nodded, knowing that he was really being made to leave because he’d mentioned Buffy.

“See you tomorrow, Spike.”

Spike nodded curtly, “’Night.”

Once he was settled in his bed Spike took the pills, washing them down with a swig of JD.

“Please stay away from my dreams tonight,” he muttered as he fell asleep.

000000000

Buffy was distraught to hear that Spike wouldn’t even let Angel talk about her.

“He’s never going to see me, is he?” she said, close to tears.

“I’m sure he will eventually. In hindsight he wasn’t in a good frame of mind today. I shouldn’t have said anything. Look, why don’t you come back to the Hyperion for a few days. It’s not good for you to be holed up here. Perhaps Moira could broach the subject to Spike and call you when he wants to see you?”

“No, I’m not leaving here,” she said, knowing that as soon as Angel left that she’d go to sit with Spike again, “I know it’s stupid but at least I feel close to him here. I’m not lonely. I chat to Dawn all the time and email the others.”

“Okay, if you’re sure?” said Angel, hugging her before he left for home.

Buffy cautiously worked on the lock, smiling as she heard the click as it unlocked. She pushed the garden door open and went inside. She sat on a chair near the bed. It was all that she could do to stop herself from climbing on there with him and spooning her body against his. But she contented herself with gently stroking her hands over his bare torso, fingers tracing the scars left by the wounds inflicted by the Polgaras.

She left well before dawn, not wanting to risk being seen as she jogged across the lawns and back to her cabin.

00000000

To Spike’s relief he hadn’t dreamed of Buffy or, if he had, he couldn’t remember it. He felt a little groggy due to mixing the liquor and sleeping pills but less depressed that the morning before. He got up, smiling when he saw that normal service had been resumed, at least in one department. He was pleased that it hadn’t just been the previous night’s dream that had got him going.

“If I was in a movie, a right cute nurse would walk in and give me a good bl…”

His thoughts were interrupted when in walked Carl after tapping on the door. Spike chuckled, “Not the nurse that I had in mind!”

“Morning, Spike. What’s the joke?”

“Nothing, mate. Just thinking about a film I saw once,” replied Spike still grinning, “What was the title? Confessions of a Nurse or something.”

Spike’s good mood lasted throughout the day. Brad was pleased that Spike was back to having a bit of banter while he was doing his exercises.

“Would you like to join me for dinner tonight?” asked Brad.

“Where?” said Spike, suspiciously.

“In the dining room, where else?”

“I’m not sure that I want to then. We could eat in my room?”

“Come on, Spike. It’s about time that you stopped skulking in your room.”

Spike shook his head, “No, mate, I don’t think so.”

“Oh for God’s sake, Spike, stop being so stubborn. It’s just one meal. It won’t hurt you just this once.”

“Why do you want me to eat with you so badly?” asked Spike.

“’Cause it’s my birthday and my girlfriend’s out of town. The chef’s promised me cake and I thought that you might like some too. And before you say it, it’s only available in the dining room. There’s no room service!”

Spike grinned at him. “Is it really your birthday?”

“Yeah, so are you up for it or are you chicken?”

“I’m no soddin’ chicken,” said Spike automatically, as Brad knew that he would.

“Great, I’ll see you there at eight then.” He laughed at Spike’s expression when he realised he’d been played.

“Bloody git, that cake had better be good.”

00000000

Spike paused for a second outside of the dining room. He was deliberately ten minutes late to make sure that Brad would be there before him. He took a deep breath then raised his chin and rolled in, eyes scanning the table for Brad. He spotted him in one corner and pushed himself towards him, aware of the curious glances from the other patients as he did.

“You’re late. I thought you were going to stand me up,” joked Brad.

“Yeah, well, I had to do my hair, didn’t I?” replied Spike with a grin, rubbing a hand over his unruly two-tone curls, “I need to get it cut.”

Brad laughed and passed him the menu, “So what would you like?”

He was delighted that Spike had come. It wasn’t good for him to be stuck in that room all the time.

Spike surprised himself at how much he enjoyed eating with Brad instead of alone. The quiet background noises of the others talking helped him feel more relaxed than he probably had since being hurt. Brad told Spike that he’d asked Moira to call Angel and ask him to give tonight a miss as he usually appeared at about nine pm and it’d be in the middle of dinner. Spike was relieved that he wasn’t going to see him, afraid that he’d try to talk about Buffy again. His pills were waiting for him by his bedside when he got back to his room. He’d enjoyed his evening. Brad had told him about his family and girlfriend, not seeming to mind that Spike had told him little about himself in return.

He was soon fast asleep and unaware that, an hour or so later, he was once more being lovingly watched over by Buffy.

tbc

Chapter Sixteen

A Set Back

The next few days passed by and Spike continued to make steady progress. Each day Brad could detect a little more movement. To Spike’s relief Angel hadn’t mentioned Buffy again. She was most probably back in Rome by now anyway.

He’d woken earlier than he normally did but couldn’t get back to sleep so he decided to get a shower and get dressed. He put his hands on to the wheelchair to get out of the shower and realised too late that he hadn’t engaged the brake properly. He’d leaned over too far to be able to get back onto the bench in the cubicle. The chair slipped backwards and Spike fell, hitting the side of his head on its footrest. He slumped unconscious, to the ground.

Spike came to about a half hour later, cold and shivering on the tiled floor. He pushed himself up with his hands, crying out as pain ripped through his back, forcing him to stop. He lay there for a second, trying to think what he could do. His feet were still in the shower cubicle and his body was at an angle to them, as he lay on one side. His head throbbed, and exploration with his fingers let him know that he was already in possession of a pretty impressive black eye.

He tried to move again, but once more was stopped short by the pain. Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes. He was going to have to call for help. His hand went to the buzzer that he wore around his neck.

“Soddin’ hell,” he muttered as he remembered that he’d taken it off and hooked it on his chair when he got in the shower. The wheelchair was now back against the far wall and the buzzer was hanging there out of reach. Depending on how long he’d been unconscious, he knew that his first visit by the nurses had been two hours away when he’d got out of bed. He tried to move again, hoping to be able to pull himself along to reach the buzzer but it just hurt too much. He slammed his fist against the floor in despair.

He was shivering uncontrollably by the time he heard the rap on the door and it swinging open.

“Mr. Williams? Up already?”

“Fucking hell. Tina, it had to be her, didn’t it?”

“Are you in the bathroom, Mr. Williams?” said Tina, at its door.

“No, I’ve gone for a bleeding jog round the gardens.”

He gritted his teeth and called for help, dismayed at how weak his voice sounded. She opened the door. None of the bathrooms at Rosedene had locks on them, and now Spike knew why.

“My goodness,” she exclaimed, “Are you all right?”

“What do you think?” Was the most civilised reply that he could muster. “I’m laying bollock naked on the floor. ‘Course I’m not all right!”

She walked towards him. “No, I mean, are you hurt anywhere?”

“My back. Every time I move it really hurts.”

“Let me see if I can help you up.” She put her hands under Spike’s arms.

“No!” cried Spike, “Don’t, please.” He was terrified that he’d done serious damage and that moving it would make it even worse. “Just get the doctor, okay?”

“Okay,” said Tina.

She silently cursed at herself for nearly doing something so stupid, but she just always felt such an idiot around Spike. He was so attractive and she felt like a silly schoolgirl with a crush when she was near him. She reached over and grabbed a couple of towels, covering Spike with one and using the other as a pillow. Then she went to the other room and telephoned for help.

Within minutes the doctor was there along with two male nurses. Tina gratefully fled the scene. “Stupid woman,” she admonished herself.

“Now then, Spike, I need you to tell me where it hurts before we move you, okay?” said Daniel, the doctor.

“Yeah, it’s the left side of my back. When I try to move it just sort of spasms and hurts like hell.”

Daniel felt along his body assessing what he found.

“From what you describe happened I think it’s most likely that you’ve pulled some muscles in your back, but we’ll be cautious and get you x-rayed. We have the facility to do it here. I’m just going to give you a little something for the pain and to relax the muscles.”

Spike nodded and the team went to work on him.

00000000

By the time that Spike was back in his own bed he was thoroughly fed up of being prodded and poked. He felt nauseous with the concussion he’d suffered and even breathing seemed to hurt. There were no breaks but he had strained the muscles in the left side of his back. He had to lie flat in bed for the next few days.

Brad called in to see him as soon as he could. “Hey, had a bit of a busy morning, so I hear?” He sat next to the bed.

“Yeah, it was my own stupid fault and I’ve screwed up my legs,” he replied, his voice catching a little as he spoke.

“What do you mean? You’ve strained your back.”

“But I can’t move my legs like I did yesterday. They’re worse again,” he said dispiritedly.

“Spike, if I pulled my back, I wouldn’t be able to move my legs properly. They’ll be fine. Back to how they were or even better once your back has settled down,” reassured Brad, not liking how depressed Spike sounded.

“Suppose,” he muttered.

“That’s one hell of a shiner you’ve got there,” said Brad.

“Yeah, I hit the sodding chair, didn’t I?” he said, wincing as he touched it gingerly. “Can you do me a favour, mate, and tell Angel not to come for a few days? I hate laying flat and he’s so soddin’ tall that it freaks me out having him peering down at me.”

Brad smiled at him. “He is stupidly tall, isn’t he? Sure, I’ll let him know if you’re certain that you don’t want his company. Can I get you anything before I go?” Spike shook his head. “I’ll pop in later to see you, okay?”

“Yeah mate, that’s okay,” said Spike.

0000000

Spike spent the day feeling more and more depressed. He’d pretended to be asleep when Brad came back to see him. By the evening he’d decided what he was going to do. The nurse came in with his last dose of meds. She put his pills on the side of the table before helping him to use the bedpan. Spike took the meds whilst she was washing her hands in the bathroom. He glanced down at the two blue pills in his hand after she’d left. He figured that by the end of the week, if he saved all of the sleeping pills and most of his increased pain medication that he should be able to put an end to it once and for all. He could wash them down with the remainder of the Jack Daniels in the hip flask. Now that he’d made the decision he felt calm. He’d tried and he’d failed and now it was time to rest.

tbc

Chapter Seventeen

I’m Sorry…

Moira had told Buffy of Spike’s fall and she paced restlessly up and down the cabin until she could go and see him once he was safely asleep. Moving swiftly across the lawns she opened the door and went over to him. She gave a little gasp when she saw his bruised face.

“Oh Spike,” she whispered, sitting down in the chair that Brad had sat in earlier. “I love you so much. Why won’t you let me in, you stupid man.”

She reached out and touched his hand, revelling as always in its warmth. Spike forced his breathing to stay the same. He’d been unable to sleep without the drugs to help him. When he’d heard someone walk in he’d first thought that it was a nurse checking on him and so he’d feigned sleep. Even before she spoke, he knew that it was Buffy; he’d know her scent anywhere. What the hell was she doing here? She stroked his arm softly and he stifled a groan.

“I was so worried when they told me you’d fallen. The day seemed twice as long as usual. They told me that you’ve strained your back. I know how much that hurts. I was fighting this vamp one time…”

Spike let her soft words wash over him, enjoying listening to her voice after so long, not really heeding the words, just the soothing tone. He didn’t know how long she stayed but when she dropped a kiss on his cheek he felt a hot tear fall on his face.

“Goodnight, Spike, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she whispered before walking away.

“Call her name! Let her know you’re awake, you moron!”

The voice raged in his head but Spike remained silent, tears of his own running down his cheeks.

0000000

Spike hadn’t slept for a second after Buffy left his room. His whole body ached for her to come back but such was his state of mind that her unexpected visit just sank him deeper into depression over his circumstances. How could he let the woman he loved, the Slayer no less, be weighed down with his useless body? She deserved someone strong and fit. What would her love have turned into in a year’s time? Five years’ time? What had they shared really? Violent hard sex and fighting side by side. Neither of which he could do anymore. What did she think she’d do with him? Sit him in front of the TV and talk to him about her day? Conversation had never been their strong point. No, it would be better for her and for Angel if he were out of the way. He decided to stick to his plan. He’d simply had enough.

0000000

Spike forced himself to seem okay to everyone that he had contact with. He was allowed to have his bed raised so that he could eat his meals but then had to be put flat again. He didn’t know how he managed to eat anything. It all tasted like sawdust to him. He carefully palmed most of the offered drugs and hid them away. The increased pain that he suffered added to his bleak outlook.

That night he lay tense, ears straining for Buffy’s arrival. He dreaded it and yearned for it in equal measures. In she crept, sitting next to the bed. She didn’t speak for what seemed like forever to Spike. Had she noticed that he was awake? He made himself stay relaxed.

“Oh, Spike,” she said finally, “Why won’t you let Angel come to see you? At least then he can tell me what you’ve said. It makes me feel closer to you.”

“Huh, so Peaches was just reporting back to you, was he? That’s why he came?” thought Spike unfairly.

He didn’t realise that he’d fallen asleep until he woke and she was gone, her voice and soft touch lulling him to slumber. He tried to move his legs and they did respond a little more, just as Brad had predicted. For a moment he was pleased, he felt hope, but then the depression rolled over him and he felt less encouraged by it, not more.

No, nothing would deviate him from his plan and this time he wouldn’t fail.

0000000

Knowing that Spike was confined to his bed gave Buffy more freedom to move about Rosedene and its grounds. After checking with Moira that it was okay, Buffy had been eating her meals in the dining room for the past few days.

She was sitting having lunch a few days after Spike’s fall when she was approached by a slim dark haired man.

“Is it okay if I join you?” he asked politely.

“Er…” She glanced around the dining room seeing that there were plenty of spare tables. “Yeah, all right.”

He grinned at her and sat down.

“I’m Brad, Spike’s physiotherapist,” he said, “You’re Buffy, right?”

“Yes, I’m Buffy,” she replied a little sadly, “So how’s he doing?”

“He was doing really well up until he had his fall. But not only has the fact that he’s strained his back set him back, but I think that he’s lost a bit of confidence, too. He seems a little down.”

“Oh,” said Buffy, embarrassed to find that her eyes were filling with tears.

“He’s not the only one that’s feeling down, by the look of it,” said Brad gently.

“I’m sorry,” said Buffy, struggling to get a grip.

“Don’t apologise. It must be hard for you staying cooped up in that cabin all of the time.”

“I don’t care about that. It’s just so tough knowing that Spike’s so close and yet still out of reach. He wouldn’t even let Angel say my name when he was trying to ask him to see me.”

“He is pretty stubborn,” said Brad with a smile, “Can I ask you something? If I overstep the mark I’ll apologise now and you don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you here now? Why didn’t you come when you first found out that Spike was alive?” asked Brad, watching her carefully.

“I did come as soon as I knew,” she replied, “Does he think that I didn’t?”

Brad hesitated, not wanting to betray Spike’s confidence, but Buffy looked and sounded sincere. For her to stay here knowing that she couldn’t see Spike must mean that she feels more for him than just pity.

“He seems to think that you’ve known for months. That a mutual friend had told you about him.”

“Stupid man!” said Buffy, “He won’t even listen to the truth. I tried to tell him that first day but he just told me to leave. I love him, Brad.” She looked him in the eye. “I don’t care whether he can walk or not, I just need to be with him. I can’t lose him again.”

“I promised Spike that I wouldn’t try to get him to see you, but he needs to be able to see that he has a future beyond Rosedene and I don’t think that he can at the moment. I’ll see if I can get him to let Angel visit again and take it from there.”

“I appreciate everything that you’ve done for Spike. He and Angel have a pretty complicated relationship but it’ll do him good to see him again. Thank you.”

They spent the rest of their time chatting about less emotional subjects as they ate their food.

00000000

As Brad went into Spike’s room he saw that Spike was reaching for the button to call for assistance.

“Hi, Spike, what is it that you’re needing? Can I do it for you?”

“Um…” said Spike, “I…er…need to…” he waved vaguely at the bedpan, “but ‘s all right. I can get someone to come.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m here,” said Brad matter of factly, and without listening to Spike’s protests he helped him to use it and then flushed its contents down the toilet after cleaning Spike up.

“God, I sodding hate this,” muttered Spike, face crimson.

“Won’t be for much longer. You’ll be up and about again in a few days,” replied Brad, “Is your back feeling any better?”

“Yes, a bit,” lied Spike. Truth be told it kept going into spasm because he wasn’t taking his pills.

“I bet you’re bored being stuck in here again.” said Brad, “Why don’t you let Angel come to see you? I’ll tell him to crawl into the room if you like.” He chuckled.

“I dunno, I just don’t feel much like talking.”

“Aw, c’mon Spike, the guy’s called every day. Let him come and see you even if it’s only for a half hour,” persuaded Brad.

Spike sighed, “Okay then, but tell him not to be too late. I’ve asked if I can have my last dose of meds a bit earlier so I can get some sleep.”

“Great, I’ll get Moira to call him. It’ll do you good.”

“Yeah,” said Spike with a weak smile. He didn’t mind seeing Peaches one last time before…

00000000

Angel came to see him that night just after dusk; it’d been five days since Spike’s fall.

“Hey,” he said as he sat next to the bed.

“All right, Peaches.”

“Is your back any better? Why didn’t you want me to visit?”

“It’s a bit better. I just wanted to rest up a bit is all. I had been knocked out, remember?” replied Spike.

“Fair enough.”

“So what have you been doing? Seen much action?” asked Spike, prompting Angel to tell him about the past few days.

An hour earlier than usual the nurse came in with Spike’s drugs. He thanked her politely and then glanced over at Angel.

“Do you mind? I know it’s stupid ‘cause all I’ve done is lay here but I’m feeling pretty knackered.”

“Oh, right, no problem, I’ll leave you to it. Hope you get a good night’s sleep,” said Angel, getting up and walking to the door.

“I’m sure I will. Goodbye, Angel,” said Spike.

Angel stared at him for a second; it wasn’t often that Spike called him by his name. Spike raised a hand and smiled.

“’Night, Spike.”

Spike let out a deep sigh. He reached for the buzzer, one last job to do to make sure that he’d be left alone until morning. “The last time for that indignity,” he thought once he’d been attended to and as he watched the nurse carry the bedpan away.

He made himself wait fifteen minutes to make sure that no one was going to come in before he pulled out his stash of pills. That’d be enough, surely? He got the hip flask from the drawer in his bedside cabinet and then raised his bed up. As he started to take the pills he regretted that Buffy could be the one to find him. But he daren’t wait until after she’d been in case there wasn’t time for the pills to take effect before his first check of the day.

When he’d taken all of the pills, washing them down with the JD and then some water when the liquor ran out, he rested his head back and closed his eyes. A thought struck him and he fumbled for a pen and a sheet of paper from the drawer. On it he simply wrote ‘I’m sorry’. He folded it in half and left it leant up against the bedside lamp, lowered the bed again and soon drifted away…

tbc

Chapter Eighteen

NO!

Buffy chatted to Angel for quite a while after he’d seen Spike. He agreed with Brad that Spike seemed a little low but felt that it was to be expected really, after such a set back. When Angel had left, Buffy put on her boots and made her way to Spike’s room. It was the best part of her day even though it was bittersweet, knowing that he still didn’t want to see her.

She crept into his room and sat as usual in the chair. She looked at his face; his eye where he’d hit it was still all shades of purple. She slipped her hand under his as it lay on the bed so that she could hold it gently. She was surprised that it felt a little clammy. She stood up and reached out to touch his forehead and that too was damp, but he didn’t feel hot. She was just wondering what to do when she spotted something on the bed. The dim light in the room showed a small pale-coloured object. She picked it up - it was a pill. How had he come to drop one?

Her breath caught in her throat and she froze.

“No, he wouldn’t…he doesn’t have the opportunity,” she thought, “Of course he could do it!” Another voice screamed inside her head. “He’s probably been saving them for days!”

“Oh my God.”

She fumbled for the bedside lamp, her fingers touching the notepaper he’d left there. She unfolded it.

“No!” she screamed when she saw the words written there.

“Spike!” She shook him. “Spike!”

His eyes fluttered and opened a little.

“Buffy?” His voice was low and slurred.

She shook him again, “What have you done?”

She slammed her hand on the buzzer to call for help. Spike’s eyes closed again.

“No! Stay with me, Spike. I can’t lose you again!” screamed Buffy, shaking him again.

“Tired…so…tired,” he mumbled.

“Shit, where is everybody?”

Buffy pressed the buzzer again, panicking. She couldn’t see him die; she couldn’t lose him, not again. She shook him again.

“Spike, please fight it, please stay with me.”

She was sobbing and stroking his face as a nurse ran into the room.

“Help him,” yelled Buffy before the woman had chance to speak, “I think he’s overdosed.”

If the nurse was shocked by the sight of Buffy being in Spike’s room in the middle of the night she didn’t show it. She swiftly went to the buzzer and pressed it three times in quick succession to signify an emergency. She then raised the top half of Spike’s bed.

“Has he been conscious?” she asked as she checked Spike’s pulse; it was there but only just.

“Not fully, but he recognised me. But then he…he…drifted off. Oh God, will he be okay?”

Before the nurse could reply a doctor ran into the room, closely followed by another nurse and Moira, who was in her bathrobe. Any emergency signal went through to her quarters, too. Her eyes widened when she saw Buffy but she stood back and let the doctor go to work.

“What have we got?” he asked the nurse.

“Overdose, we don’t know how many.” She told him the names of the drugs that he was given and the time of the last check by staff to give an indication of when he might have taken them.

The doctor gave instructions to the nurses; Spike needed his stomach pumped out and fast. The bed was on wheels and the nurses quickly pushed it out of the room and along the corridor to the treatment centre of Rosedene. Buffy stared after them as they left. She started to follow but Moira prevented her.

“No, Buffy, let them see to him.”

She put her arm around Buffy’s shoulder. She wanted to know what Buffy had been doing in Spike’s room in the middle of the night but now wasn’t the time to ask her.

“Will he be all right?” sobbed Buffy, clinging to Moira.

“I’m sure he will be,” soothed Moira with a confidence she didn’t feel. He was on some very strong drugs. “Let’s sit down for a moment.”

She guided Buffy to the couch.

“I need to see him,” said Buffy, looking at the door.

“They’ll come and tell us as soon as they can.”

“But…”

“Shh, Buffy, we need to stay here until they come for us, okay?”

Moira knew that Buffy was distraught enough. The sight of someone having his or her stomach pumped out wasn’t a pleasant one and so she was determined to protect her from it.

00000000

In the treatment room Spike had a tube inserted down to his stomach and a charcoal solution was pumped in. The end of the tube was then lowered and the contents were flushed out. The charcoal would help to absorb the toxins. About halfway through the procedure Spike came to, coughing and vomiting violently. The tube was swiftly removed and he continued to vomit until he had nothing more to void. He was helped to lay back and one of the nurses wiped him clean.

“Welcome back, Spike,” said the doctor.

Spike closed his eyes and groaned. “Why couldn’t someone just die when they wanted to?”

“It was lucky that you were found in time,” the doctor continued.

Spike didn’t bother to reply. He felt dreadful physically. His throat was sore from the tube and all the vomiting, but mentally he felt utterly defeated.

“Get some rest and I’ll talk to you some more later.”

“Gonna bloody lecture me no doubt,” thought Spike as he lay there half asleep.

“Keep a close eye on him. Any change in his stats, just come and get me. Keep plenty of fluids going in,” the doctor said to the nurse who would observe Spike for the remainder of the night, “I’ll go and let Moira know how he is.”

000000000

Buffy stood up as soon as the doctor walked in.

“Is he going to be all right?” she asked.

“Yes, physically he’ll pull through but we have to address the reasons behind his decision to try to commit suicide.”

“He’s not going to die?” whispered Buffy, sitting back down, her legs weak with relief.

Moira put her arms around her.

“I don’t think that he took being bedridden again after his fall very well,” said Moira, “But none of us picked up on just how depressed that he’d gotten. That’s a mistake we can’t make again.”

“Can I go and see him now please?” asked Buffy.

The doctor glanced at Moira. He knew that Spike hadn’t wanted to see Buffy and was puzzled as to why she’d been the one to find him.

“Buffy,” said Moira gently, “How long have you been coming in to see Spike?”

“Um…quite a few days now,” replied Buffy, “Ever since Angel told me that Spike took sleeping pills.”

“How did he react to seeing you? I thought you were going to wait until he asked to see you?”

“What? I always waited until he was asleep - he never knew that I was there. I’m sorry, I know that I said I wouldn’t try to see him but because he was asleep, I thought it was okay.”

“I’m pretty sure that you saved his life tonight,” said the doctor, “Another couple of hours and he would have been successful.”

“Oh God,” Buffy’s sobs were renewed as she realised just how close she’d come to losing him.

“Can she go and see him now, Charles?” Moira asked the doctor.

“Yes, she can sit with him. He’s not fully awake though yet.”

“Would you like me to come with you?” Moira asked Buffy.

Buffy nodded, suddenly afraid to see him. What if she made things even worse when he saw her?

Moira thanked Charles and then walked with Buffy to the treatment room. She stopped at the door as Buffy walked with stiff legs to Spike’s bedside. Buffy thought that he looked more dead now than he ever had as a vampire and technically dead. There was a line running from a bag of fluid into a catheter in a vein on the back of his right hand. A bank of monitors showing his vital signs beeped in the background. She sat in a chair at the left hand side of the bed and took his hand and was surprised to feel him squeeze it.

“Spike?”

He opened his eyes and gazed at her for a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry.”

tbc

Chapter Nineteen

Turning Point

Buffy sat with Spike as he drifted in and out of sleep or consciousness, she wasn’t sure which. He hadn’t spoken or opened his eyes again. The nurse checked him periodically, changing the bag on the drip when it was empty and seeing what his vital signs were, before returning to her office at the front of the room. She turned the monitors’ volume low so that the room was almost silent. Buffy finally succumbed to sleep, leaning forward and resting her head on her arms, her hand still holding onto Spike’s.

Spike opened his eyes, squinting a little in the bright light. He felt like he had the mother of all hangovers. He groaned as he remembered what he’d tried to do. He’d never realised that dying took so much effort. He saw Buffy there, asleep, her beautiful face turned to his. He could see that her eyes were puffy from crying. He reached out with his right hand to stroke her hair but felt a tug and saw the line in the back of it and so he let it rest back down on the bed.

Buffy must have felt the movement because she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a pair of tortured blue eyes staring at her.

“Spike, oh thank God!” she cried, leaping up and enveloping him in a hug, “I was so worried.”

He froze for a second. He should push her away. He should make her forget abut him and move on. But then he closed his eyes and wrapped his left arm around her and crushed her to his chest. He’d screwed up dying twice and one thing was certain; he couldn’t live without her.

“Buffy.”

He buried his face in her neck and she felt his tears on her skin.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his breath on her neck making her tingle.

“Of what?” said Buffy, pulling back and taking hold of his chin to make him look at her. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. I don’t care if you say that you won’t see me. I just won’t go away again. I’ll take care of you.”

She saw more tears brimming in his eyes and knew that he still didn’t really believe her. She leaned closer and put her lips on his, kissing him gently at first and then hungrily. He responded eagerly for a moment and then broke contact.

“I can’t Buffy, I can’t,” he sobbed, tears falling.

“Why?” she asked gently, “Don’t you love me anymore? Is that it?”

“No, it’s just…you deserve more than…ow!”

His words were cut short as, without thinking, Buffy slapped him none to gently on the face.

“Don’t you dare say that, don’t you dare!” she snapped, “Don’t I get to decide what I want? Why can’t I be with the person I love? Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that I love you and want to be with you no matter what. I don’t care whether you walk or have wheels; I just need you, Spike. God, I need you so much.”

He stared at her, his hand on his stinging cheek. Whether it was the fact that she’d hit him, which he considered pretty normal behaviour, or whether it was her words, but he finally realised that she really did love him. He knew that he wouldn’t care if Buffy could walk or not, he’d cherish her just the same.

“Oh Christ, Buffy, I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through.”

He reached out for her and she willingly fell into his arms. He pulled her up so that she was sitting on the bed with him.

“You’ve got some making up to do, that’s for sure.”

She felt him stiffen again. She looked up and saw his features were anguished as he thought how she might have found him dead. How could he have been so cruel? He remembered how he felt seeing Buffy’s body after she threw herself from Glory’s tower to save Dawn. How could he have even thought for a second of putting her through that? He felt ashamed.

Buffy correctly guessed what he was thinking and distracted him with a passionate kiss.

“Serious making up,” she whispered, “Not sure there’s enough hours in the day for the amount of kisses you owe me.”

“God, I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you really don’t if you keep on saying stuff like that. We deserve each other, we’re a team, two halves of one whole and all that baloney.”

He pushed her away.

“What now?” she said impatiently.

“Er…I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Do you want me to get somebody?”

Spike nodded. He looked distinctly green, not in the least because he realised that he’d been kissing the love of his life after throwing up his entire stomach contents. That thought alone made him feel even more nauseous.

Buffy went to the office where she knew the nurse who was on duty would be.

“Spike’s awake and he thinks that he’s going to vomit again.”

“Okay, I’d better hurry then,” said the nurse with a smile.

Buffy followed her but stayed back as she tended to Spike. He retched a few times but brought up nothing.

“Um…sorry,” mumbled Spike to Buffy afterwards as she sat back on the bed.

“Will you stop apologising already?” she said, “That’s so not you.”

“Oh,” said Spike, “Sor…” He stopped himself and they both laughed softly.

“That’s so good to hear,” said Buffy, “I thought I’d never hear that again.”

“Well, I’ll just have to try to make sure that you hear it a few more times then, eh pet?”

“Ooh, pet, I love it when you call me pet.”

“No you don’t,” said Spike.

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Buffy with a grin, “I do now.”

“Ah, someone is feeling better,” said Charles as he walked in.

Buffy slid off the bed guiltily and into the chair. Spike looked down, unable to meet the doctor’s eye. He felt sick with shame. He’d never been a quitter and all that he’d done lately was try to opt out of a difficult situation.

“So how are you feeling now?” Charles asked as he checked Spike over.

“Um…well like shit, to be honest,” replied Spike, still avoiding eye contact.

“That about par for the course, I’m afraid - a combination of the drugs that got into your blood stream and having your stomach pumped out. It’s never pleasant.”

“No, I didn’t mean like that, though I must say that I have felt better.” He looked up at the doctor and tried a weak smile. “What I meant was that I feel bad for doing something so stupid and putting you all to so much trouble.”

“It did make for a rather more entertaining night than I had planned,” replied Charles wryly.

“Um…well…thank you.”

“Do you mean that? Or are you saying what you want me to hear?” Do you wish that it had been successful?”

“No…I mean, yes I’m glad that I’m still here and no, I don’t wish that I was dead.” He glanced over at Buffy and held his hand out to her, smiling at her as she took it. “Not anymore.”

“That’s good to hear, Spike, but I’m afraid there’ll have to be a few changes. We can’t let that situation arise again.”

“What changes?” asked Spike, nervously gripping Buffy’s hand tightly.

“Your meds will be given by injection only. You’ll have to spend some time with our psychiatrist, and I’m going to arrange for a nurse to stay with you at all times. Our policy of allowing our patients privacy seems to have backfired with you.”

“Um…excuse me?” said Buffy quietly, “Would I do?”

“I’m sorry?” said Charles.

“Could I be the person to be with him or does it have to be someone medically trained? I can keep an eye on him, make sure that he’s okay.”

Spike and Buffy both looked up at the doctor hopefully. He stared at them for a second.

“That would be a good solution as long as you’re both certain that it’s what you want. You wouldn’t see Buffy up to now, Spike, so are you sure?”

He saw the looks that passed between the couple and knew the answer even before Spike spoke.

“I’ve never been more sure. She’s my reason for wanting to live and for wanting to get as well as I can.”

“Right then, that’s settled. You’ll have to remain on the drip for twenty four hours but I can see no reason why we can’t get you back to your own room shortly.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” said Spike.

“Just make sure that you keep that attitude going, okay?”

Spike nodded.

Buffy climbed back onto the bed when the doctor was out of sight and snuggled up to Spike. “I’m going to go and get my things from the cabin…”

“What cabin?” interrupted Spike, “And how come you kept sitting with me at night?”

“How did you know that?”

“Well, I stopped taking the sleeping pills and …”

“God, you knew I was there and heard what I said and you never let me know. You still tried to kill yourself?” Buffy got off the bed.

“Buffy…oh shite…look, I wasn’t thinking straight. Don’t let’s argue again, please? I need you, Buffy. I meant what I said; I can’t get through this without you. I love you and I know that you love me too. I’m not going to do anything stupid again,” said Spike earnestly.

Buffy sat back down on the bed, “You’d better not or I’ll kill you.” They both laughed when they realised what she’d said. “Anyway, I’ll go and get my things from the cabin. It’s one where families of patients stay with their kids.” She kissed his cheek tenderly, “I’ll see you soon.”

00000000

By the time Spike and his bed were returned to his room, Buffy was waiting for him, having packed away her clothes in the little bedroom attached to his suite.

“Hey you,” she said softly when they were alone.

“Hey,” he said almost shyly.

“Feeling any better?”

“A little bit.” He smiled at her. “The doctors said that I can start to do a bit of therapy again tomorrow.”

Buffy was pleased to hear it as she knew that the fall and the loss of what little freedom he had weighed heavily on his mind.

“Can I join you on there?” asked Buffy, needing to keep touching him to make sure that this was real.

“Yeah,” said Spike.

He took his weight on his hands and shuffled his bottom across the bed to give her more room. Buffy felt that her heart would break when she saw him frown as he lifted his legs to the side with his hands. She was careful not to show it. She’d meant what she’d said. If he never improved at all she wouldn’t love him any less. But she was all too aware of how much Spike hated his broken body and knew that things weren’t going to be easy.

When he was settled, she hopped agilely onto the bed and snuggled up to him, then she got off again for a moment before getting back on underneath the covers and cuddling up to him once more.

“Can we have the bed so that it’s laying flat?” asked Buffy.

Spike nodded and did as she said. Once the bed was level Spike twisted his torso a little so that he could look at her. The injected drugs were keeping his back more or less pain free. He put his arms around her, being careful not to dislodge the drip in his right hand, and pulled her closer. They lay like that for a long time, just holding each other and not saying a word.

00000000

They drifted off to sleep, their stressful night catching up on them both. Neither heard the tap on the door before Brad walked in. He stopped and smiled as he saw the pair of them entwined on the bed. Spike was on his back with Buffy’s head on his chest, his arms, even in sleep, wrapped tightly around her.

Brad tiptoed out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He knew how important family and loved ones were to someone’s recovery. He’d been horrified when he’d been informed of Spike’s attempted suicide and hoped that being reunited with Buffy would be the turning point that he needed.

tbc

Chapter Twenty

Dreaming eh?

Buffy woke up as Carol rapped on the door and came in. She slid out of Spike’s arms and off the bed as Carol walked towards her.

“Sorry to disturb you,” said Carol quietly when she saw that Spike was still sleeping, “I just need to give him his last dose of meds.”

She injected the drugs via the catheter in his right hand where the drip was still connected and Spike never stirred.

“Just press the buzzer if you need anything,” said Carol. She smiled at Buffy and added, “Let me show you how the lock on the door works.”

Buffy walked with her to the door and watched as Carol showed her how to lock the door properly so that no one could come in without it being opened for them. The mechanism was near the top of the door so Buffy had to stretch to reach it. Carol caught her slightly puzzled look as she wondered why it was so high up.

“It’s up there so that our wheelchair-bound patients can’t reach it on their own. We can’t risk not being able to get to them in an emergency.”

“Oh,” said Buffy weakly, knowing that it was things like that that Spike found hard to bear.

Once Carol had gone Buffy locked the door and went to take a shower, noticing the little bench in it with a pang. She towel-dried her hair and put on a t-shirt that served as a nightdress. She walked back into the room and saw that Spike was awake and watching her closely.

“That’s my t-shirt,” he said, “How come you’re wearing my t-shirt? It’s not one from here, I know that.”

“Well, I sort of borrowed it from your stuff at the Old Hyperion,” replied Buffy with a smile.

“Looks good on you,” he said, returning the smile as he raised the top of the bed up until he was sitting.

She walked towards the bed, swinging her hips provocatively, “Since we’ve slept for most of the day, I’m not feeling sleepy now, are you?”

“Not really,” replied Spike, “I’m not allowed any sedatives after…um…”

Both of their smiles faltered a little at that. Buffy stroked her fingertips along his arm.

“So what should we do then?”

Spike gazed at her. He knew what she was implying and he was terrified.

“Um…watch a bit of TV?” he quipped, trying and failing to disguise his fear from Buffy.

“I can think of something a bit more interesting.”

She climbed onto the bed and kissed him, pushing her tongue between Spike’s lips and against his teeth, urging him to grant it admission to his mouth.

He sighed and yielded to her probing tongue, matching its movements with his own. A low moan escaped his lips as he felt Buffy’s hand rubbing over his bare torso. She moved so that she was straddling Spike, although the sheets were still between them. She pulled the t-shirt over her head.

“Buffy…I…”

“Shh,” she said, smothering his words with a kiss, “No talking.”

He put his left hand behind her head and pulled her close, crushing his lips against hers hungrily. Buffy put her hand up to his and guided his left hand down until it was resting on her thigh. She stared into his eyes as she guided it between her legs.

“Touch me, Spike,” she whispered, “Please touch me.”

He’d never been able to deny Buffy anything and he didn’t want to start now. He slipped his fingers inside her, his breath catching in his throat as she arched her back slightly and moaned.

“Oh God, Buffy.”

He felt himself harden and judging by Buffy’s smile so did she. She shuffled backwards until she’d managed to push the bed covers away. She glanced at Spike, once more seeing the uncertainty in his eyes.

“I love you,” she said softly.

Her hand worked to free him from the confines of his pyjamas, eyes never leaving his, reassuring him without words that no matter what he could or couldn’t do, she loved him. She gripped him firmly and slid her hand slowly up and down.

Spike ran his hand through her hair before leaning forward, drawing her in for another kiss. He still couldn’t quite believe that she was there but as the rhythm of her hand increased he was brought back to reality as he found himself close to the brink.

“I…can’t…wait,” he gasped.

Buffy let go with her hand, smiling at Spike’s moan as she did. The moan was soon replaced by a hiss as she lowered herself onto him in one rapid movement.

“Christ,” he muttered, making her giggle.

And so they made love. Buffy riding him slowly, teasing him by raising herself up until almost free of him before lowering herself down sharply, delighting in the pleasure that she was giving him. He put his hands on her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he tried to control her pace. His eyes filled momentarily with tears as he wished that he could participate more. He wanted to turn her over and take charge, but all he could do was slightly move his hips up to meet her.

The sight of Buffy straddling him with such obvious delight was his undoing and with a cry he climaxed, pulling Buffy tight against his chest. He kissed down the side of her neck, aware of the blood pumping through the vein beneath his lips, knowing that if he were still a vampire that he wouldn’t have been able to resist biting her - hell, he could hardly resist it now. Buffy slid onto the bed at Spike’s side, sighing with the satisfaction of a job well done.

After a few moments Spike spoke, his voice tentative, “Buffy?”

“Yeah?” she smiled.

“I know that you didn’t…that I couldn’t give…” His words trailed off.

“What?” asked Buffy, wondering what he was trying to say. She glanced at his face and was surprised when he avoided her gaze. This didn’t look like a man who’d just had a good time. Then she realised what was bothering him; she hadn’t climaxed and he knew it.

“Baby,” she said, taking his chin in her hand and drawing his face closer to hers, “That time was all about you, not me. That was me making love to you.”

“But…”

“Shh, I’ll make you a deal if you like?” said Buffy with a very mischievous grin, “The next time can be all about me, okay?”

He tried to smile back at her but all he could think of was that he wouldn’t be able to satisfy her. She accurately read his thoughts and tried to distract him from them.

“So, was that the first time in well over a century that you’ve made love as a human? None of the pretty nurses got here before me, did they?”

He smiled and relaxed a little. “No, you are the first.”

“Glad to hear it. At least I had less clothes to take off than the Victorian women you had.”

“No, Buffy. You are the first.”

“What? You mean you never? Before Drusilla you hadn’t…?”

“Nope.”

“How old were you, or is that ‘are’ you? You’re going to have to start counting from there again.”

“Twenty-eight,” replied Spike with a sheepish grin.

“Wow! You’re not that much older than me now. Bit of a late starter, weren’t you?”

“The women weren’t as easy back then,” he deadpanned.

“Hey! That is so not flattering,” retorted Buffy.

“I know!” He grinned.

“Pig.” She gently cuffed his arm.

“Buffy?” he said, suddenly serious.

“Mm?”

“Look, don’t get mad all right…but are you sure? I mean I might be like this forever…just if you…”

“Spike! For the love of God!” snapped Buffy in exasperation, “I am here because I want to be, because I need to be with you, just like I need to breathe to survive. So no more of this ‘I’m not worthy’ crap - you’re mine and you’d better get used to it.”

Fire lashed in her eyes. God, he got hard just seeing that.

“I’m sorry pet, I just can’t believe it. I’ve wanted it for so long.”

“I’ll forgive you…eventually,” smiled Buffy, her small hand unerringly drawn to his erection, “So is it my turn already?”

She leaned over and lowered the bed until it was flat. Spike shifted slightly as she caressed him, her hand eliciting just the right amount of pressure. He looked deep into Buffy’s eyes.

“I’m up for it, if you are?” he said with a smirk.

Buffy laughed out loud. That was more like the Spike she knew. She moved to sit across him again.

“No pet, this time you do as I say.”

“Yes, boss,” she said meekly, “So where do you want me?”

He pushed her into position so that her head was towards his groin and her ass was easily within reach. He slid his fingers into her, revelling in her slick warmth. He found her sensitive spot and went to work, rubbing, pinching, and teasing. Soon Buffy was writhing and panting with pleasure. His strong arms pulled her nearer and he turned his body so that he could replace his fingers with his tongue. She bucked under his touch. He held her firm, not letting her move out of reach. He let out a groan of his own as she returned the favour on him. He brought Buffy to the brink.

“I want you inside me now!” cried Buffy.

He released his hold on her hips and she twisted round quickly until she lowered herself onto him. They both paused for a second, lost in the pleasure the penetration gave both of them. Spike’s fingers found Buffy again and a few seconds later she climaxed, her whole body shuddering. Spike followed hard on her heels. They collapsed sated and exhausted in each other’s arms.

“Oh my God,” whispered Buffy in Spike’s ear, “That was amazing. Just think of what all those Victorian ladies missed out on.”

They both chuckled.

“Shit,” said Spike.

“What?”

“I’ve pulled the bloody thing out of my vein. I never even felt it.” He held his hand out to show her.

“We’d better get a nurse to put it back in for you,” said Buffy, reluctantly moving from his arms. She put on the t-shirt and walked over to unlock the door as Spike pressed the buzzer.

“Um…you might want to put a robe on, love,” reminded Spike, “That thing barely covers your admittedly delectable arse.”

Buffy squealed as she heard the tap on the door and ran into the little bedroom to find one.

“Hi Spike, what’s the problem?” asked Carol, walking in.

“Um…my drip thingy has come out.”

“Okay, well I can soon sort that out.” She took hold of his right hand and scowled, “Gosh there’s going to be quite a bruise. How did it get pulled out?”

“Er…I’m not sure…I must have been dreaming, I reckon,” stuttered Spike as to his horror a blush heated up his cheeks.

Buffy walked back in swathed in a bathrobe, hair dishevelled. She looked for all the world like a woman who’d just had some great sex.

“Dreaming, eh?” said Carol with a wink, “Well, I’m going to have to put it in the vein on your left hand.” She wheeled the stand holding the bags of fluid to the left side of the bed and deftly inserted a new catheter and reattached the drip. “Don’t go dreaming again tonight, okay? You’ll be off it in the morning so just try and resist.” She grinned at the couple and left.

tbc

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.

0000000

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.

0000000

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

Chapter Twenty-Two

It’s Good To Talk…

The thing is, the Shanshu Prophecy,” said Angel, “basically made your heart beat again and stripped you of your immortality but that’s all.”

Buffy and Spike stared at him.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s all’? Isn’t that enough?” said Spike.

“What I mean is that it didn’t ‘return’ you to human form. It sort of made a new human from the template of the vampire you were.”

Buffy and Spike glanced at each other.

“Am I supposed to understand this?” asked Buffy.

“I dunno, pet, but I sure as hell don’t and it’s me that he’s talking about,” said Spike, “Cliff notes version, mate.”

“Okay,” said Angel with a smile, “You’re neither wholly human nor obviously a vampire. You will have retained most of your vampiric enhancements but…”

“But I wasn’t as strong, nowhere near as strong, otherwise I wouldn’t be…er…I would’ve beaten the Polgaras.”

“But,” emphasised Angel, “you will need to learn how to access them fully. Kind of like when you were a fledge. You didn’t have enough time to learn about them before you got speared.”

“Oh,” said Spike, looking down and feeling a bit sick. He’d gone and gotten himself paralysed when he could still have been strong, could still have been useful.

Buffy could read Spike like a book and glared at Angel. Just what Spike didn’t need – his nose rubbing in it.

Angel could read Buffy’s glare like a book. “I’m not just talking about his strength.”

Spike’s head whipped up. Angel met his eye and gave a slight nod.

“His vampiric healing is there too - a bit weaker perhaps, harder to access, but it is definitely there.”

“Oh Christ,” whispered Spike, “So maybe I …” He couldn’t continue.

“From what Willow and Giles told me, there is no ‘maybe’ about it. You will heal. They’re not sure how long it will take or whether you’ll get back to totally one hundred percent like you would if you were still a vampire. But they are positive that you will walk again.”

Spike spun his chair round and went out to the door into the garden as quickly as he could, cursing as he grazed his knuckles on the doorframe in his haste. Buffy rose to go after him but Angel caught her arm.

“Leave him be, Buffy,” he cautioned quietly.

She sat back in her chair with a thud, “Oh God, Angel, is it really true? Will he get better?” Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“It’s true, but it’s not going to happen overnight. Hopefully it’ll help him forgive the fact that he effectively put himself in that chair. It’s probably going to be tough for him, for you both.” He stood up. “Look I’m going to go, okay? Leave you two alone.”

Buffy rose with him and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He held her close for a moment before letting her go and leaving. Buffy sat back down and waited for Spike to come back, resisting the urge to go and find him, knowing that he needed the space.

00000000

Spike pushed the chair as hard as he could across the lawns until his arms started to burn and his breath came in ragged gasps. He finally stopped and leant forwards, putting his head in his hands.

“Stupid bastard,” he mumbled.

His mind was racing, not focussing on the fact that he would heal but on how he’d been too bloody pig-headed to find out about what he was before he’d tried to commit suicide by Polgara. The research should have been done then.

“’S my fault. It’s all my own bleeding fault,” he roared.

God, he wanted to hit something. He raised his head and looked around him. He eyed a nearby tree and started to go towards it. He stopped, laughing a little hysterically.

“Good one, Spike. Bust your hand and you can’t push yourself around. Sod it!”

He put his head back in his hands and let the tears that had threatened since Angel told him fall. After about ten minutes he took a shuddering breath and pulled himself together.

“Better get on with the healing then,” he muttered as he started to roll slowly back to his room.

0000000

Ten minutes after Angel had left there was a knock on the door and Moira walked in.

“Hello Buffy. Is Spike ready for his session?”

“Um, he’s just gone outside for a bit.”

“Problem?” asked Moira, in ‘shrink’ mode.

“No, not really. Angel just told him something and he needed a little time alone,” said Buffy, a bit too brightly in her effort to hide what they’d never be able to share with anyone at Rosedene.

“Mm,” said Moira, “I’ll wait for him here if that’s all right? I do need to see him today and this is my only available slot.”

“Okay,” said Buffy, hoping that Spike will have gotten himself together by the time he came back. “Shall we sit outside? It’s a lovely day.” She thought that if he saw Moira there with her he would be forewarned.

“Yes, lets. I spend far too much time indoors these days.”

The two women sat at the small table on the patio to the right of the door. Buffy looked out over the gardens and saw Spike making his way back. She waved at him and saw him pause before returning the wave. She knew that he’d seen Moira and so she relaxed a little.

00000000

Spike paused as he saw Buffy wave. Shit. Moira was there with her. He’d forgotten about his scheduled session. He raised his hand to acknowledge Buffy and then ran it over his face, hoping that he didn’t look like he’d been weeping.

“Again,” he thought, that’s all he ever seemed to do these days. “Right, here we go then.” He pushed himself steadily towards them.

“Hi Moira. I’m sorry I forgot about our session,” he said when he got close enough.

“Probably on purpose, knowing you,” replied Moira with a smile.

Spike returned it, “Well, there is that.”

“I’ll go for a walk then,” said Buffy.

She put her hand on Spike’s shoulder as she passed him and he squeezed it briefly with his own. Their eyes met and his blue eyes looked clearer than she’d seen in a very long time.

“Thanks, pet.”

Spike turned his attention to Moira.

“Shall we go inside?”

She nodded. Once inside Spike spoke again.

“So am I going to have to lay on the couch then?”

Moira chuckled at the sarcasm his words dripped with. “I take it that you’re a little reluctant about this session?”

Spike shrugged, “Never been that big into self-reflection.”

“Really? Because it looks to me that reflecting too long and in a too negative manner is what prompted your actions.”

Spike stared at her. “Shit, she’s got a point.” All he’d done was focus on the past and wallow in the sense of loss that it brought him.

“Um,” said Spike decisively.

“So how are you feeling now?” prompted Moira, deciding that starting from now and working backwards would probably be the easiest.

Spike sighed. He really felt uncomfortable about it all. He wasn’t sure that he could give a plausible reason for how he felt without telling her the truth, and that would get him locked up in a mental institution in a flash.

“I think I’m gonna be okay,” he said quietly, looking off and avoiding her eye. He nodded a couple of times. “No, I’m sure that I’m gonna be okay.” His voice was a little stronger. “My head’s been all over the place for a long time but I think it’s just about straight now.”

After a long pause Moira decided a prompt was in order. “So when did everything start to go wrong for you?”

Spike glanced at her briefly before casting his mind back. “How far back should I go? When the soddin’ government put that chip in my head? When I fell in love with the Slayer – my mortal enemy? When she dumped me? When I tried to rape her?” He flinched at the memory of the assault. “When I got my soul back and felt crushed by the weight of the thousands of lives that I’d taken? Christ, the soddin’ list’s endless.” He realised that Moira was watching him closely and that he was taking too long to reply to her question. “Not too far back,” he decided, “When my last mission went wrong I guess and everyone thought that I was dead.”

“What mission was it?” Moira’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Can’t really say, love,” said Spike with a bit of a smile, “Top secret an’ all.”

She glanced at him sharply. Was he fooling with her?

Spike’s smile broadened, “I’m not lying. It’s just that me and Angel do, or did in my case,” He grimaced. “Some pretty unusual stuff to keep everybody safe, okay?”

Moira nodded. The two men were certainly different in some way to most she’d encountered. She smiled briefly as she recalled Angel joining her for lunch.

“Well, Angel found me but I was…?” “Okay, can’t say a ghost so what do I say?” “…hurt and had to stay with him. I’d sort of been seeing Buffy before this but she’d moved to Italy and moved on, or so I thought.” “Must ask her what she was doing with that git, the Immortal.” “So I stayed in LA and worked from there and didn’t let her know that I was alive.”

Spike restlessly rolled his wheelchair backwards and forwards a few inches – his version of pacing. “Now it gets complicated. What the fuck do I say? The truth ain’t an option.”

“Er…anyway…I learned something after we’d been on a mission that we’d just about survived – I can’t say what, Moira, so don’t push it, okay?” He glanced at her, waiting for her to nod before continuing. “It weighed heavy on me. It was something that I would have given anything for a year ago but when it happened I didn’t want it and was pretty stupid about it. I got reckless with the job and got myself hurt and here I am.” “Christ, I hope that does the bleeding trick.”

“Angel told me that you went looking for a fight that you couldn’t win?”

“Cheers, Peaches.” “Yeah, well maybe I did,” he muttered, a touch grumpily.

Moira got the feeling that there was a lot more to Spike’s history than he was telling. “And then you saved your pills and tried again.”

She noticed him stiffen and close his eyes at her words, so she waited to see if he’d respond.

“Yeah, I know that it looks bad, Moira, but I won’t be going down that route again,” he said firmly, “I was weak is all and, to be honest, scared.” He paused, eyes downcast.

“Of what?” asked Moira gently.

“Of the future. I still am a bit but with Buffy by my side I can’t quit now. It’d hurt her too much and I never want to hurt her again.”

He glanced up at Moira, meeting her gaze and she saw that for the first time in the session that Spike was giving her the whole truth.

“I know that it must be difficult for you, Spike, as you led such an active life but your life isn’t over by any means. You have a beautiful girlfriend who quite clearly adores you and a close friend who is doing the best that he can for you. You’ll have to learn to lean on people a little. Let them be there for you and help you if need be. None of us do very well alone whether we have a disability or not. If the walls start to close in on you again, please just come and talk to me. I can be a friend or a psychiatrist, or both. Seeking help when you need it isn’t a sign of weakness, Spike, it’s actually a sign of strength.”

Spike smiled at her gratefully. It was stupid not to ask for help. “Thanks Moira.”

“Well, I’ll go now,” said Moira, standing up, “I’ll come and see you at the same time next week.”

“But…” started Spike.

Moira laughed softly, “Oh no, you don’t get off so lightly, not after what you did. You never know, you might actually find out that it’s good to talk.”

“Okay, so I guess I’ll see you next week then.”

“If you want to talk to me before then just call Reception,” added Moira as she left.

Spike waited until the door closed behind her before he turned his chair around and went out into the garden to see if he could find Buffy.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Three

I Can…I Can…

One month after Angel’s revelation Buffy walked out of the bathroom towel drying her hair. She stopped short when she saw Spike. She dropped the towel and ran to him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging over the side of it. But the thing that had made her heart stop was that he had tears running down his face.

“Spike!” She took his hand. “What’s wrong?” Are you hurting?”

The pain that he’d felt in his lower back and legs since the operation had been a constant companion to him. Willow had told them that she thought that it was related to his enhanced powers of healing. A price, if you like, for being more than human. Spike never really complained about it though sometimes, when it was particularly bad, she could see it etched on his face.

“Buffy,” Spike said quietly, running a hand self-consciously over his face before putting his arms around her and hugging her tightly.

“Oh, baby, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I can…I can…” He lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I can move them, Buffy. They were right, I think I really will heal.”

He’d hoped for it but hadn’t dared to let himself believe it for fear of the disappointment. Buffy felt tears of her own flood her eyes.

“Oh, God. Show me,” she said, pulling out of his arms.

Over the past few weeks Spike’s legs had started to respond more and more, but until now he had still been unable to move them properly without helping with his hands. He could raise his knees and push more strongly against Brad’s hands during his therapy but still hadn’t been able to lift his ankles from the bed.

Spike looked at her before putting his hands on the bed, and wriggled his bottom a little to get his balance right. He concentrated really hard, staring at his legs, willing them to respond to the messages he was sending. Slowly, so slowly, he raised them up until he could swing them back on to the bed. He glanced at Buffy triumphantly, sweat beading on his brow with the effort, panting a little but smiling broadly.

“That is so fantastic,” cried Buffy, smothering him with kisses.

He laughed and pulled her up onto the bed.

“Brad’s going to freak when he sees that,” said Buffy with glee.

The physiotherapist was already astounded by Spike’s recovery and kept muttering about writing a paper on it for medical journals.

“Still a long way to go, pet,” cautioned Spike, trying to keep calm, half afraid that it might be temporary despite everything.

“Yes, but you’ve already come so far. I’m so proud of you.”

Although he still had his bleak moments, Spike’s general demeanour had improved over the past weeks. With Buffy’s persuasion he’d agreed to start eating their evening meal in the dining room. He still didn’t want to talk with any of the other patients except to say ‘hi’ as they passed. She was hoping that he’d soon be able to go out of Rosedene’s cloistered environment for a day. Many of the others did, but Spike still had issues with being seen in his chair. She was afraid that to go out into the ‘real world’ too soon would be too much for him emotionally.

Buffy lay next to him, their backs resting against the raised top of the bed, with their legs stretched out in front of them.

“Show me again,” she whispered, nibbling at his earlobe.

Spike grinned at her and with effort lifted his leg from where it lay on the bed and lowered it again so that it was over hers.

“Soddin’ things seem like they weigh a ton,” said Spike, “It’s weird that it feels so hard.”

“I like weird,” said Buffy, still nuzzling at his neck. She chuckled as she noticed that his pyjamas were tenting. She put her hand down and touched the raised clothing, “It’s weird that it feels so hard.” She giggled.

“Is that door locked?” asked Spike, inclining his head towards it.

“It is,” replied Buffy. “Why do you ask?” she added innocently.

“Got something that I’ve got to do.”

He lifted his leg from hers, then gripped her beneath her arms and pulled her on top of him, praying that one day his legs would be strong enough for him to be the one on top. He slid his hands between her thighs and smirked as he felt her heat. She was always ready for him.

Buffy worked to free him from his pyjamas and ducked her head down to kiss the top of his erection. Spike bucked beneath her, the thrust of his hips getting stronger each day. She chuckled and stroked him with her hand a few times before lowering herself onto him. She glanced at the clock near the bedside.

“We haven’t got much time. Brad will be expecting you soon.”

“You shouldn’t have spent so long in the shower then, pet. You’ll need another one soon anyway.”

He moved his hips again, groaning in pleasure as she shifted on top of him.

“Better than any exercises that Brad gives me,” he muttered before they lost themselves in each other.

0000000

Spike rolled himself along the corridors to the therapy room, leaving Buffy flopped on the bed. He grinned - she was literally shagged out. The poor girl did always end up doing most of the work.

“You look pretty pleased with yourself this morning,” said Brad when he spotted Spike, “What gives?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” leered Spike, “So what are we doing first? The weights or my legs?”

“Legs first.”

Spike went over to the bed and slid his bottom onto the bed. “You might want to watch this bit.”

Brad looked at him sharply, “What do you mean?”

Spike just grinned. “Now don’t let me down, you bleeders.” Instead of pulling his legs onto the bed, he slowly raised them and swung them into place. He glanced up at Brad; he was standing there dumbstruck.

“Jesus,” he whistled through his teeth.

“I know,” grinned Spike

“It’s amazing.”

“I know,” repeated Spike.

Spike leaned back against the top of the bed, legs outstretched.

“So let’s see what else you can do.”

He proceeded to put Spike through a variety of tests and exercises. After just ten minutes Spike was completely exhausted and they had to stop.

“They’re just so heavy,” gasped Spike, “It’s like they have blocks of concrete attached to them.”

“I can do something about that,” said Brad.

“What? How?”

“Look, we’ll leave it there for now but meet me back here at three and I’ll show you,” said Brad, “Oh, and bring Buffy along too.”

“Okay,” agreed Spike. He got back into his chair, delighted that, exhausted as he was, he could still put his feet back on the foot rests unaided.

He got back to his room to find Buffy still snuggled up on the bed.

“Oi, you lazy sod, get up!”

“You’re back soon. Is everything all right?” she asked anxiously.

“Yeah, it’s just I got right knackered and it seems that Brad’s got a plan for this afternoon and he wanted me to get some rest first.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“No, you insatiable bint, he said that I had to get some rest.” “God, I must be knackered to pass up that invite!”

She slid off the bed with a chuckle. “Let me get dressed and then why don’t we get the kitchen to do us a picnic? We can have an early lunch out in the gardens.”

“Sound lovely, pet.”

0000000000

Later they made their way to a quiet spot at the far side of the lawns and Buffy laid out the food in the shade of a tree.

“Will you join me down here?” asked Buffy.

Spike hesitated.

“I can help you in and out of the chair, but it’ll be really nice to have you sitting next to me.”

“Okay,” said Spike, as usual unable to deny Buffy anything but still hating the fact that she’d be lifting him like a baby.

He took his feet off the footrests and she hooked her hands under his armpits and eased him gently to the ground. He shuffled back until he could rest against the tree. He crossed his legs at the ankle – simply because he could. Buffy leaned against him and he put his arm around her. Life wasn’t so bad these days.

00000000

When they got back there was a message for Buffy to call Brad. Puzzled, she dialled his extension and he answered immediately.

“Just listen and don’t let Spike know what I’m saying,” said Brad after they’d exchanged ‘hellos’.

“Okay,” said Buffy, even more intrigued now.

She giggled when he told her what he needed her to do, said ‘okay’ again and then hung up.

Spike was watching her curiously, “What was that all about?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” she grinned.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Four

Making A Splash

Spike decided that he needed to get some sleep before his afternoon session with Brad, which gave Buffy the opportunity to sneak away and get the things that Brad has asked her to. She called in at Moira’s office on the way and chatted to her whilst she awaited the arrival of the cab that Pamela in Reception had ordered for her.

Buffy was back before Spike woke up, having found what she needed in the first shop that the cabbie had recommended. She’d even had time to give them to Brad. She was sitting in a chair watching Spike sleep, smiling when she noticed his legs moving beneath the covers as he started to stir. He jerked suddenly and his eyes flew open. He looked around a bit wildly until his eyes settled on hers and he relaxed.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah…bad dream is all.” His heart was still thudding in his chest.

“What was it?”

“Er…nothing…doesn’t matter,” he said. There was no need to tell her that he’d been dreaming of when he got paralysed but this time it had been the Immortal who had run him through with a sword and not the Polgaras. He still hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask Buffy about him. “What time is it?”

“Two thirty.”

“Really? God, I can’t believe that I slept for so long. Better get ready for Brad then, we’ve to be there at three.”

“Yeah, we have,”

Buffy handed him his sweats and watched surreptitiously as he dressed. For the first time she saw him able to put his pants on without having to use his hands to move his legs. He tried to raise his bottom by pushing down on his legs but they weren’t strong enough to lift him so he had to do his usual little wriggle.

Brad was waiting for them when they got there.

“Come on, it’s this way,” he said, smiling at them.

“Where are we going? I thought we were going to do more exercises?” said Spike in confusion, looking at the door to the therapy room and then back at Brad.

“Just follow me,” replied Brad, glancing at Buffy and giving her a wink.

Spike looked at her sharply, “Are you in on something with Brad?”

Buffy chuckled, “Just wait and see.”

Spike pushed his chair after Brad, muttering under his breath about keeping secrets. He looked around as he followed Brad. He’d never been in this part of the building before. The three of them came to a set of double doors and Brad pushed them open. They went in and around a corner and there it was - a swimming pool.

“Oh shit,” thought Spike.

“We’ll be doing one session per day in here from now on,” said Brad, “We can get your legs moving without you getting so tired and without trying to get them to bear weight. You said how heavy they felt when you moved them. Well, once you’re in the water they’ll feel much lighter and easier to move.”

Spike rolled backwards about a yard. “No.”

“What?” Brad stared at him. He’d never refused to do any of the exercises he’d asked him to do. Spike complained a lot if he didn’t like them but he never said no.

“Why not?” asked Buffy.

“I’m not getting in there,” he said. He tried to roll backwards some more but Buffy put a hand on the chair to prevent him. He glanced over his shoulder at her and growled, “Get off of it.”

“Hey…hey,” soothed Brad, “Just calm down a bit Spike, talk to us.” He bent his knees so that his face was level with Spike’s.

Spike gulped. From the moment that the doors had opened and he could smell the chlorine, he knew what they were going to want him to do. And it was the one thing that he just couldn’t do. He shook his head trying to dispel the upsetting images that flooded his mind. He closed his eyes against their assault.

Suddenly he was nine years old again, running along the banks of the river Thames in London. Behind him, strolling arm in arm, were his mother and father, still very much in love after ten years of marriage. There was a low wall at the water’s edge that he couldn’t resist climbing on.

“Be careful, William,” called his mother.

He giggled and as he turned around to look at them, his foot slipped on the wet stone. It felt like he teetered on the edge for an age but in reality he had fallen headlong into murky water in an instant.

“William!”

He heard his mother scream and then he was beneath the water, sinking fast. He kicked out vainly but his heavy coat dragged him down. His lungs burned. He had to breathe. He knew that he shouldn’t but he couldn’t stop the huge gasp that he gave. Then everything went totally black.

The next thing he was aware of was coughing up the filthy water from his lungs. He saw his mother’s face swimming in and out of focus. She was crying. At the time he thought that she was crying for him. He tried to speak but lost consciousness once more.

He woke fully some time later, laid in his own comfortable bed. His mother was holding his hand and stroking his brow. He glanced around the room.

“Where’s father?” he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

To his horror his mother told him how his father had leapt into the Thames to save his beloved son but had been drowned before the passer-by that pulled William out could get to him. His mother had never been the same after that day. It was like a part of her died along with her husband, neither her smile seemed so wide nor her eyes so bright again.

Even now, over a century later, his fears of going into the water hadn’t faded. By falling in he’d killed his father as surely as he killed his mother years later when he staked her after turning her in the mistaken belief that it would make her well.

The fact that in the nineteen forties, Angel had kicked him out of a submarine hadn’t helped conquer them. Even though he no longer relied on breathing to survive the feeling of water filling his lungs had terrified him just the same as it had when he was a boy. The First had also played on his fears when it had captured him.

Buffy glanced up at Brad and whispered for him to give them a moment alone. Spike was so lost in his memories that he never even noticed him move away.

“Spike, what’s wrong?” she whispered, holding his hand.

Spike’s eyes regained focus and he gazed at Buffy. Christ, she was going to think that he was a right pillock being scared of water.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice sounded petulant even to his own ears.

“Well you’re going to have to, ‘cause we’re not moving until you do,” said Buffy firmly. “I was afraid of water for a long time after I nearly drowned when I was sixteen.”

Spike’s eyes widened, “You nearly drowned?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I was fighting the Master and…” she paused, remembering Brad’s presence, “Um…long story but I didn’t go near the water for ages afterwards, but with the help of my friends I got through it and I’m sure that you can too.”

Spike stared at her; she truly was the strongest person that he’d ever known. In fact, the only thing that she hadn’t been able to take was his own ‘death’.

“My dad died trying to save me when I fell in the Thames,” he said, his voice low, “I got pulled out but they didn’t get him in time.”

Buffy hugged him tightly, amazed that he’d kept that depth of emotion for so long. It was astonishing that it had still been retained after being a vampire for so long. He truly was an anomaly, his emotions so strong that they were sometimes crippling. She gave a rueful smile as she thought how they literally had been crippling this time. She knelt in front of him.

“You can do this, Spike. It’s really important for your legs and you want to get healthy, don’t you?”

“’Course I do but…” he swallowed hard, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, I know you can. I’ll be there with you and Brad will too. You’ll be safe, I promise. Do it for me, please?” She could see him beginning to waver. He really was just about unable to refuse her anything. She added the final incentive. “Plus you’ll get to see me in the skimpiest bikini that the shop had!” She giggled.

“So you’re coming in too?”

“We both will be, you dope. What did you think that we would do? I won’t let anything happen to you – slayer strength, remember? I could haul your skinny ass out of there with one hand tied behind my back.” She grinned at him.

“Hey, I’m not skinny, just…” He was going to say his usual comeback of athletic but he really wasn’t that these days so he settled for… “Lean.”

“You forgot ‘handsome’,” said Buffy. She knew his catchphrase too. “So are we going to do this then?”

Spike put a hand out and caught her behind her head, pulling her to him and kissing her so passionately that Brad coughed a few times to remind them of his presence.

“We’ll do it, pet,” he whispered as their lips parted. His heart was hammering but he couldn’t let Buffy down.

“Okay,” she said and she walked over to Brad and quietly explained the situation to him.

“We’ll take it real slow then,” said Brad, “Let him get a bit of confidence first. Go and get changed. I put your bag in the first changing room on the right. Then come and meet me at the Jacuzzi. We’ll get him in there first rather than the big pool.”

Buffy returned to Spike, seeing from his slightly flushed face that he hated Brad knowing his fear. Hopefully that pride wouldn’t let him down now and would help him to have the nerve to get into the water.

“Come on, let’s get changed and you can tell me if you like my bikini.”

Once inside the large cubicle she got the bikini out of the bag and held it for Spike to see.

“So what have you got for me to wear?” he asked doubtfully, as he eyed the tiny scraps of cloth that made up her bikini.

She grinned wickedly and with a flourish pulled out the skimpiest pair of black swimming trunks that Spike had ever seen. They were made of such a stretchy material that Spike knew they would hug his body like a second skin and with Buffy in that outfit…

“Bloody hell,” he spluttered.

“Gotcha!”

Buffy laughed, putting them down and reaching into the bag once more. This time she brought out a pair of bright blue swim shorts like the kind favoured by surfer dudes worldwide.

“Oh thank God,” said Spike, laughing despite his nerves.

Moments later they went to find Brad. When he saw Buffy he smiled and glanced at Spike, raising an eyebrow appreciatively. Spike grinned back. Yeah, she was his girl and boy did she look hot! In fact he was starting to hope that the water would be cold because he wasn’t sure that even these baggy shorts could disguise how he felt about her for long.

Brad had changed too and soon all three were sitting in the tub, one sitting on either side of an almost completely rigid Spike. Before he turned the jets on Brad got Spike to run through a few exercises, as much to give him something else to think about as to test the legs themselves. Spike held onto the handles in the specially designed tub for dear life, grateful that the water only came halfway up his body as he sat. The thought of his head going beneath the water still terrified him. Soon he was so lost in watching how much he could get his legs to do with the buoyancy the water offered, that he started to relax.

“Okay, that’s enough for now. Let’s put the jets on,” said Brad as he pressed the controls and the water began to bubble.

“Hey, that feels really good,” said Spike, smiling.

The bubbles made the water opaque and Spike nearly jumped out of the tub when Buffy’s small hand slipped down inside his shorts.

“Yeah, that feels really good,” he said, winking at Buffy.

A few minutes later, Brad turned off the jets. “Okay, let’s get you into the pool.”

“Shit,” thought Spike, then he smiled despite himself as the worry he’d had about Brad noticing the erection he’d been sporting since Buffy’s hand had found him was instantly erased by the cold shaft of fear that ran through him, “Okay,” he said weakly.

Soon Spike, swaddled with floatation aids, got into the pool with Brad. Buffy sat on the side with her feet dangling in the water, watching them. She’d seen Spike crack his neck and lift his chin like he did when he was going into a fight and she knew just how brave he was being to get in there.

Brad guided Spike to some rails sticking out of the water and once in position he and Spike worked on the legs, making them move as if he were walking, his feet just touching the bottom of the pool. One thing that Spike liked was the fact that in the pool he and Brad were more or less the same height. He hated having to look up at everyone when he was in the chair.

They stopped before Spike got too exhausted and they were all delighted with how the session had gone. With the buoyancy of the water to help him, Spike had the full range of movement in his legs. Now they just had to hope that they became strong enough to bear his weight. As they made their way back to where Buffy was sitting, she saw Brad whisper something to Spike, who nodded solemnly in return. As Spike lay back against Brad to be helped out of the pool, he lifted his legs and kicked them as hard as he could, the water splashing all over Buffy. They laughed as she squealed when the water hit her.

“You’re going to pay for that later,” she warned with grin.

“I hope so,” replied Spike, smirking.

Spike gazed at Buffy as she dried herself and got dressed. With her support he suddenly realised that he could do anything. He’d actually enjoyed working in the pool once he’d seen how much more he could do with his legs. He winked at her and she smiled knowingly back. She knew the power that she had over her man.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Five

Peaches Has Been Busy

Spike continued to make steady progress. His initial fear of the water had coalesced into a love for it. The things that he could do in the pool made him look forward to the sessions. Buffy always joined him and Brad and he loved that he could ‘walk’ with her in the water. Out of the pool however he was still frustrated by how weak his legs were, still unable to take his weight. The one thing that had changed though was that he was now certain that he would walk again. He was just impatient at how long it was taking. He worked hard on his upper body strength knowing that the next step would be to replace the hateful chair with a walking frame or crutches.

Spike turned on his side in bed, still getting a little thrill when his legs turned with him, after ignoring him for so long. They no longer took much effort to move. He smiled as he saw Buffy beside him, still asleep, looking as beautiful as ever. Last night, for the first time since she’d come back into his life, he felt that he’d truly made love to her. The increased movement in his legs and his strong arms meant that he’d been the ‘driver’ instead of Buffy. He’d delighted in the fact that it was Buffy looking up at him and not the other way around. Sure, it probably wasn’t the best coupling that they’d ever had but it was another milestone that he’d set and passed.

One thing that did worry Spike was that the constant pain that he’d suffered was beginning to ease. He hoped that it didn’t mean that the healing was stopping too. It made him doubly determined to push himself as hard as he could each day.

Spike turned over so that he was on his stomach and then drew up his legs and pushed with his hands so that he was on his hands and knees. He held himself in that position for a few seconds before sliding his legs down again. He repeated it nine times. Then he sat up with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. He got into his chair, as always taking great care of positioning himself correctly, not wanting to risk another fall. He glanced back at the bed, amazed as always at how deeply Buffy slept, before he went for a shower.

Buffy walked into the bathroom just as he was drying himself off.

“Morning lover,” she said, leaning down and kissing him.

“Awake at last, huh?” he replied with a grin, “If only I’d known how soundly you slept when I was wanting to kill you.”

“You couldn’t get into the house; vampire, remember?” She cuffed him lightly on the side of his head.

“I could’ve charmed my way into the house. She always did like me, your mum.”

He pulled her into his arms as they both remembered Joyce.

“She did always see something in you that I couldn’t,” sighed Buffy.

“Smart lady, was Joyce. Pass me my clothes pet, I’d better get dressed.”

Instead of handing them to him, Buffy picked up his sweats and walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” he protested.

Buffy walked back in holding some clothes in her arms. “Thought that you’d look better in these.”

She dropped a pair of his black Levis, a black t-shirt and a pair of boots onto his lap. “Angel brought them when he visited yesterday,” she explained.

“Why?”

“Because I asked him to, you dope.”

“But I can’t do my therapy in these, pet.”

“You’ve got the morning off and so we’re going out. We’ll be back in time for the afternoon session so don’t worry.”

“Out? What do you mean out? Into the gardens?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed exaggeratedly.

“Out as in leaving Rosedene for the morning.”

“But…”

“No buts, Spike. It’s about time you left here for a while. We’ll have to leave once you can walk again so we may as well go take a look at the outside world now,” said Buffy firmly.

They’d discussed what the plan would be once Spike was mobile again with Brad, who said that as long as he came back daily for a session of therapy that with them being based so close to Rosedene that Spike could become an outpatient.

“Shit,” thought Spike.

He’d got it into his head that he wouldn’t leave until he could walk out of the door. He glanced up at Buffy and saw that he’d never be able to persuade her otherwise, so he gave up with bad grace muttering under his breath about bossy bints. He had to admit that it felt good to get back into his jeans. No way would he have left the grounds if he’d had to wear the sweats.

Buffy smiled as she watched him pull on the jeans. Angel had been working on something for them and now was the time to go and see what it was. Spike and Angel still squabbled like kids when he visited so she usually left them together and went for a walk; otherwise she was sure that she’d end up knocking their heads together. But it was nice to see Angel showing a more caring side to Spike. She knew that he’d put Spike through hell in the past and figured that Spike was due some compensation for it.

Spike grinned as he fastened his boots. All he needed now was his duster and he’d feel almost like he used to. Buffy accurately read his thoughts.

“I thought the duster might get in the way of the wheels so you’ll have to wait to wear that again, unless Angel has thrown it in the trash. It was pretty shredded.”

“What?” yelled Spike, “If Captain bloody Forehead has thrown it out I swear I’ll stake him!” He glared at Buffy, who was doubled over trying not to laugh. “Sod off,” he sulked, “Bloody fond of that coat.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘it’s like my second skin’,” teased Buffy, “Don’t worry, it’s safe. I even had the blood cleaned off it for you.”

Spike got into his chair, able to take a little weight on his legs as he did so, and rolled over to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly onto his lap, pulling her back tight against his chest.

“If I could bite you I would,” he growled softly in her ear, his breath tickling her neck, “Still might.” He nipped gently at her neck.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” joked Buffy, relaxing into him with a sigh before standing up.

“Come on then.” She ruffled his hair, laughing as he growled at her again. His growls were still pretty impressive despite not being a vampire anymore.

He self-consciously ran his hand through his unruly curls. He didn’t think his hair had been this long since the sixties. He grinned as he remembered how stoned he’d been at Woodstock, and all just by eating a few flower people. He sighed. "Yes, those were good days."

“What are you thinking of?” asked Buffy, “You look like the cat that’s got the cream.”

Spike smirked, “Only you, pet, only you.”

Buffy gave him a ‘yeah-right’ look before the two of them went to the front of Rosedene to wait for the pre-ordered cab.

Spike was grateful for the driver’s matter of fact manner as he folded the chair up and stowed it in the trunk once Spike was settled in the car. The thing he feared the most of being back in the ‘real world’, was being regarded with pity by strangers.

“So where are we going?” he asked, holding Buffy’s hand.

“Couple of places,” said Buffy evasively, “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“I’m not big on surprises, pet. Had too many bad ones.”

“As if I’d let anything happen to you,” retorted Buffy, “Rest assured that these will be of the good.”

She leaned toward him and kissed him soundly. The cab driver caught Spike’s eye in the rear view mirror and winked. Spike grinned. Definitely no pity there, a hint of envy maybe?

As they got closer to their destination Spike started to recognise the streets and knew where they were heading.

“I thought this place was closed for business,” said the cabbie as Buffy paid the fare.

“It isn’t a hotel any more. A friend owns it and lives here.”

“Kind of big for one person, ain’t it?” said the driver, shaking his head. Only in LA would someone own a hotel and live in it alone.

“He likes his privacy,” said Buffy with a smile, “Will it be you that picks us up later?”

“Yeah, it’ll be me. You have a nice day now,” he replied as he drove away.

Spike sat in his chair and stared at the Old Hyperion.

“Er…not sure that it’s gonna be easy getting me in there, love,” he said, thinking of the steps down into the foyer.

“Oh I think that you might be surprised,” said Buffy, “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

She held the door open and he wheeled himself in. At one side of the steps there was now a ramp. Spike glanced at Buffy who smiled widely back at him.

“Peaches has been busy, has he?”

“You have no idea,” said Buffy, “That thing’s not too steep, is it?”

Spike shook his head, “No, it looks like fun.” He rolled to the top of it, gave a good push and freewheeled down it at a speed that made Buffy gasp and run after him.

“Spike! Be careful!”

“Nothing to it,” replied Spike with a grin as he spun the chair around to face her.

They heard clapping and both turned to see Angel walking towards them. “Always was a show off.”

“Better than being a broody git,” retorted Spike.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Here we go again!”

“Been much action?” asked Spike, always wanting to know the details of Angel’s patrols.

“Not really. It’s been pretty quiet lately which was good ‘cause it meant that I could get some other stuff done. I’ll show you,” said Angel, walking in the direction of the training room.

Puzzled, Spike followed with Buffy walking by his side. The heavy wooden door had been replaced by a sliding one, Angel opened it and it glided silently on its rails. Spike rolled through it as Angel stood to the side.

“Nice new door ma…” His words trailed off. He glanced over his shoulder to see Buffy and Angel watching him anxiously.

He turned back and surveyed the training room, only it wasn’t a training room anymore. The old gym equipment had gone and the huge room had been partitioned off into smaller areas. Immediately to the left of the door was a kitchen with a dining table. To the right was the lounge room with comfy leather couch and arm chairs, an enormous flat screen TV on the wall and a couple of side table and lamps.

Spike glanced at Buffy again. She nodded indicating that he explore further. He rolled slowly towards the newly made rooms. He pushed open the door on the right; it revealed a state of the art bathroom, complete, Spike was pleased to see, with a Jacuzzi bath. All the fittings were wheelchair friendly. He turned his attention to the last room, which unsurprisingly was the bedroom. The bed was king-sized and covered with quilts made of sumptuous fabrics. There were also drawers and wardrobes for clothes.

Spike turned to the others, careful to keep his face solemn, “Angel,” he said, his voice harsh; “You forgot to put the mirrors on the ceiling.”

“What?” spluttered Angel before Spike’s face split into a grin.

“Only kidding, mate. Buffy would spend too much time wondering if her arse looked big if we had them.”

All three laughed.

“We figured that it won’t be long before you’re back on your feet and that you’ll be ready to leave Rosedene when you can,” said Angel, “You know how unreliable the elevator in this place is so I thought that doing this would be safer.”

Spike glanced at him and was surprised at how worried Angel was looking. “He really cares what I think of it.” Spike swallowed the lump in his throat, “It’s great. I mean it; it’s really great. Thank you.”

Buffy and Angel exchanged relieved looks; they hadn’t been sure how he would react. Buffy explained that the apartment was made wheelchair friendly so that they could come to stay for weekends before leaving Rosedene altogether. And they expected that even when he was walking again that he might need the wheelchair to prevent getting overtired or pushing too hard.

“There is one problem, though,” grinned Spike.

“What’s that?” Angel glanced round the room trying to spot some detail that he’d missed.

Spike inclined his head towards the kitchen. “I hope that I can reach the stove and such in there otherwise I’m either going to starve to death or get poisoned.”

“Hey!” protested Buffy as Angel started to unnerve her by chuckling. She still couldn’t get used to seeing non-broody Angel. “I can cook. I did Thanksgiving dinner one time.”

“Yeah, I remember that well. All the bloody Scoobies helped with the cooking and we were under siege by a bunch of soddin’ Indians…”

“Native Americans,” corrected Buffy.

“Whatever. I seem to remember that I went hungry then, too.” He grinned at her.

“Pig.”

“You’re all right. I made it so that you can use them from the chair, but they’ll still be okay when you’re back on your feet,” Angel said.

Angel knew how Spike’s mind worked and he didn’t want him to focus too much on the fact that it was wheelchair friendly. They were all confident that he wouldn’t need it for too much longer.

“Where’s my coat?” asked Spike.

“You want your coat?” said Angel.

“I teased him that you’d thrown it in the garbage. I don’t think that he believed me when I said I was only joking,” said Buffy.

Angel pointed to the bedroom, “It’s hung up in there, the cupboard on the right.”

Spike rolled over and opened the door; sure enough his trusty duster was there. Admittedly it was cleaner than it had been for years, but it was still there. He stroked it affectionately before shutting the door and rejoining the others.

“How do you feel about getting your hair cut?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” his voice belying the doubts he felt. He still baulked at being seen around town in the chair.

“Are you sure about that, Spike?” asked Angel, “Because if you are, you need to know that Buffy’s going to take you there in the Viper.”

“Bloody hell!” said Spike, “You’d let her drive the Viper?”

“I know I must be insane, she’s bound to scratch it,” agreed Angel.

“Standing right here,” reminded Buffy.

Spike reached out and squeezed her hand. “Just try not to kill me, pet. That’d be too bleedin’ ironic.” He grinned at her.

She tried to pull her hand away but he held it tightly until she stopped resisting and chuckled instead.

“Okay, fair point, cars and Buffy unmixey things. But I have driven in Rome this past year and they drive worse than me over there so I have improved a bit simply through self-preservation.”

“Well, I’ll risk it. I can’t leave my hair to get much longer or else I’ll need to wear it in pigtails,” quipped Spike.

“Okay, I’ll go and get the car,” said Buffy.

Angel tossed her the keys, which she caught with panache, and she hurried away to bring the car to the front of the building. Spike and Angel looked at each other for a while before they followed her out of the apartment that Angel had made, both seeing things in the other that they’d never noticed before. Spike still couldn’t believe how good Angel was being to him. They’d been through a lot together and they’d been the only ones left standing at the end, so Spike thought that was why Angel was doing the whole ‘look after my grand-childe’ thing. Angel could sense in Spike a new hope and a determination to get well that he knew wouldn’t be thwarted. Spike’s love for Buffy shone brighter than his love of Drusilla ever had, and even though it still hurt a little, he found that he couldn’t begrudge either one of them their relationship. Especially now that Spike was human again – well, more or less.

0000000

Buffy had researched which hairdressers to go to thoroughly. She’d used the phone in Moira’s office to call several up, finding the one with the easiest access for Spike’s chair. She’d also avoided ones with male stylists, guessing that Spike would prefer to have a girl messing with his hair than a man. What she hadn’t thought of was how to fit Spike’s chair into the Viper. It was easier said than done but she eventually managed to get it in and they drove away. Angel winced as she over-revved the engine.

They had to park down the street a little way from the salon. Buffy wrestled the chair out of the car, unfolded it and set it near to Spike. He expertly put it in the right place and lifted himself into it. He glanced around as Buffy locked the car. After being at Rosedene for so long it seemed strange to see regular people going about their business. He looked up at Buffy, who was watching him, making sure that he was okay. He winked to reassure her and started to propel himself along the sidewalk. Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows, staring at them in disbelief.

“Spike,” it uttered.

Once Spike was safely in the hands of the stylist, Buffy sat on one of the couches and relaxed. Spike seemed to be coping well with his little trip. She picked up a glossy magazine and sipped at the coffee she’d been given. She was lost in the world of celebrity gossip when she heard someone clearing their throat next to her. She looked up and smiled. There was her Spike back in all his glory.

“So you wanted a change then?” she chuckled, gazing at his once more brilliant white hair, cut short and slicked back from his face.

“If something works why alter it?” He smirked. “Anyway, Patri over there says that I look wicked sexy and that it emphasises my lovely blue eyes.”

Buffy glanced over Spike’s shoulder to see the girl at the counter eyeing Spike appreciatively.

“I think that you’d better go and pay her, pet, though I reckon she’d settle for a kiss or two,” joked Spike, ducking his head out of the way of Buffy’s hand as she tried to mess up his hair when she went past on her way to pay.

As they made their way back to the car for once Spike let Buffy push him. It was only because she did it by leaning over with her arms around his shoulders all the while nuzzling at his neck.

“This thing should have a little shelf on the back. Then I could stand on it as just push it with a foot like a skateboard,” giggled Buffy.

“Good God, woman, then you really would kill us both,” joked Spike.

He was feeling pretty good. Patri had come on at him big time and had never even seemed to notice the chair. Although he loved Buffy and would never wander, it hadn’t done his ego any harm to be flirted with by a hot young girl.

They drove back to the Old Hyperion, arriving just as the cab pulled up. Buffy gave Angel back his mercifully undamaged car and then they got into the cab for the journey to Rosedene.

Neither of them noticed that the cab was being followed.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Six

Baby Steps

Spike whizzed along the corridors to the therapy room for his morning session with Brad. He was feeling pretty good. His legs seemed to be getting stronger by the second let alone the day. Spike wondered whether he’d finally learnt how to tap into the enhanced healing powers properly. He smirked as he recalled the lovemaking that he’d just enjoyed. If Buffy’s reactions were anything to go by then he was certainly getting more active during the course of it.

Spike pushed open the door to the therapy room and then brought himself to an abrupt stop when he saw Brad.

“Morning, Spike.”

“Morning,” replied Spike, eyeing the apparatus that Brad was holding, “So today’s the day, huh?”

“Yes, I think you’re ready. We’ll go through a few exercises to warm you up and then introduce you to your new best friend,” he said, patting the metal walking frame at his side.

“Okay.”

Spike got onto the bed and worked with Brad for about ten minutes.

“Okay, I’ll just go and get a couple of nurses to help us and then we’ll see how you do with the frame.”

Spike nodded. Whilst he was waiting for Brad he stared at his legs. “Don’t let me down all right?” he muttered.

“Ready?” asked Brad when he returned.

“If you think I am, then I am,” said Spike.

Brad explained how Spike had to hold the frame and that Carl and Ted would be there to help him should he lose his balance.

“You’re going to have to take most of your weight on your hands to begin with, so it’s going to be difficult, okay? We’ll just get you to stand and see how it goes from there.”

“Okay,” said Spike.

He sat on the edge of the bed with his feet touching the ground. Brad positioned the frame correctly so that Spike could hold onto it in the right places. Brad stood in front of him and Carl and Ted put their hands under Spike’s arms and helped him to his feet.

“Great, now support yourself on your hands. Don’t ask too much of your legs, “encouraged Brad, “Just put your feet a little further apart – that’s it.”

Spike leaned on the frame and got his balance. He didn’t look around as Carl and Ted released their grip on him because he was concentrating too hard. His legs wobbled a bit but held him upright.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” said Brad, grinning at him.

“Right,” replied Spike with a faint smile. He hadn’t even realised that he was holding it.

“So how do you feel about taking a step?”

“Um…I’m not sure,” said Spike quietly. He was afraid, quite literally, of taking the next step in his recovery.

“You’ll be fine, Spike. You’re seriously strong in your upper body and we’re here to catch you if you should fall,” coaxed Brad before explaining how to move the frame forwards just a little and then step towards it.

“Okay.”

Spike bit his lip, concentrated on his balance and slid the frame forward by about six inches. He then asked his left leg to step forward first as it was the strongest. He then shuffled his right to meet it. He glanced up at Brad and smiled.

Brad grinned at him, “You’re doing it, Spike, you’re walking.”

Spike repeated his actions another six times before Brad noticed him beginning to tire and got him to sit back down in the wheelchair that Ted brought up for him. Spike sat down gratefully. He glanced back at how far he had come. It was only a few feet but he’d done it under his own power. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“I did it,” he said quietly.

“Damn straight you did,” said Brad, giving him a pat on his shoulder. “As usual you’ve amazed me at how well you’re progressing.”

“Thanks, mate,” replied Spike. It was a shame that he couldn’t be honest with Brad about why he was healing so well. He had a horrible feeling that Brad might expect the same results from his other patients.

“We’ll still do the session in the pool each afternoon,” said Brad, “And you have to promise me that you won’t try to walk unless you’re with me, okay?”

“Okay,” said Spike, “I won’t.”

Brad gave him a hard stare. “I mean it.”

Spike laughed, “I know, don’t worry. I’ll stick with my wheels for now. Rate I was going, it’d take me about two hours to get to the bathroom anyway.”

“That’s a good point,” replied Brad smiling broadly, “Let’s do some work with the weights now.”

Spike rolled over to the equipment and had a thorough workout. As ever pushing himself hard made him feel good, so he was tired but well satisfied as he went back to meet Buffy.

She was curled up on the couch reading a magazine when he got back to their room.

“Hey, honey, how did you do?”

“Good, thanks,” said Spike, going over to her and taking her hand, “Did something a bit different this morning.”

“Yeah? What was it?”

Spike grinned at her and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh my God! You didn’t? I should have been there. Oh Spike, you did it, you walked.” She flung her arms around him.

“Shuffled would be more accurate.”

“I don’t care! Oh, I’m so proud of you,” she said, kissing him, “What did it feel like?”

“A bit weird and a bit wobbly,” said Spike, “But it was great, even though I could only do a few baby steps before they were going to give out on me.”

“It’s happening, Spike, it’s really happening.” Her eyes glistened with tears.

“I’ll be racing you in no time,” said Spike, for once allowing himself to really hope for the future. “I was always faster than you.”

“No, you were not,” protested Buffy.

“Then how come I always managed to give you the slip?”

“Because, even way back then, I never really wanted to stake you, I guess.” She smiled.

“Irresistible, that’s me,” smirked Spike.

“Oh, yeah. God’s gift, that’s what you are,” said Buffy sarcastically.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He grinned.

“Yes, but I’ve always had way bad taste in men,” stated Buffy.

“Not anymore, love. Mind you, how you could fall for tall, dark and forehead I’ll never know,” said Spike, unable to resist poking fun at Angel even when he wasn’t around to hear it.

“And then there was Parker, he was a real stand up guy,” added Buffy.

“Oh yeah, he really played you, Slayer, didn’t he? I felt kind of sorry for you that day.”

“Sorry for me? You threw me through a glass table and tried to kill me.”

“Um…yeah…anyway, you tried to burn me up when you took the Gem of Amara off me. So I’m not taking the blame for that little encounter,” said Spike. “And your bloody soldier boy staked me one time!”

“Riley? He staked you? How come you didn’t dust? He was always a pretty accurate aim,” replied Buffy.

“Don’t sound so bleeding proud of him,” grumbled Spike. “He did hit the mark only the stake was just ‘wood effect’ and not real. Really sodding hurt.”

“Aw, poor wittle Spikey,” trilled Buffy, chuckling at him, “Want me to kiss it all better?”

“Shift over so I can get on there with you,” said Spike.

He manoeuvred himself onto the couch as Buffy wriggled back.

“So where are you gonna start with the kissing?”

Buffy put her hand on the bulge in his pants, “Um…was thinking of somewhere around here?”

“Sounds good to me, pet,” laughed Spike.

00000000

That evening they lay snuggled up to each other on the couch watching TV. They didn’t notice the figure peering in at them. They has left the drapes open and the light inside made their observer invisible to them in the blackness outside, but offered a clear view of the couple. The figure growled quietly as they started to kiss.

“The time will come,” it muttered.

00000000

Um…Buffy,” Spike said hesitantly as they lay in bed.

“Yeah?”

“Er…you know how we were talking about your old boyfriends?”

Buffy shifted so that she could look at him, “Yeah.”

“Well, I was wondering…why were you with the Immortal?

There, he’d said it. He’d finally asked the question that he’d wanted to for so long. He avoided her eye.

“What?” exclaimed Buffy and then started to laugh.

Spike glared at her which made her laugh even harder. Spike started to sulk.

“I’m sorry,” gasped Buffy, “It’s just…where in hell did you get that idea from?”

“Angel had a man watching you and you beat him up when you spotted him watching you and the Immortal.” Buffy opened her mouth to protest but Spike cut her off, “Don’t deny it, I saw you dancing with the git,” he snapped.

Buffy laughed again, much to Spike’s fury. He sat up and would have got out of bed and stormed off if it wasn’t for the fact the effect would be spoiled by him having to get into the chair first.

Buffy stopped laughing when she realised how upset Spike was getting. She put her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Spike, I shouldn’t have laughed,” she said sincerely.

“Hmpht,” said Spike.

“Just think for a minute. You said a man, so was it a human that was following me?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“When have I ever beaten up humans?”

“Um…never, before then anyway.”

“Never, period. Spike,” said Buffy, “I just can’t do it. Someone did follow me when I was with the Immortal but it was one of his minions that beat the guy up.”

“So you admit that you were with him then?” said Spike, sounding a little whiney.

“I was ‘walking’ with him. I was never ‘with’ him.”

“But you were dancing with him.”

“I’ve danced with Xander but I’ve never been ‘with’ him,” said Buffy, losing patience, “Look, the Immortal runs Rome. He had connections everywhere. I had to deal with him from time to time, but as long as he didn’t hurt my young slayers I left him alone.”

“But Andrew said…”

“What did he say?” snapped Buffy, “When he came to retrieve Dana, I hadn’t even made contact with the Immortal then.”

“No, not then,” said Spike.

He realised that this was an argument that he was going to lose. He should have trusted his instincts that she’d never have been attracted to the Immortal. But, God, it had hurt so much when he’d seen her dancing with him.

“Me and Angel came to Rome on business and called in at your apartment. Andrew was there. He told us that you were out with the Immortal and that he was glad that you weren’t spending another night in smooching on the sofa.”

Buffy bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing again. Stupid, gullible, Spike. “Spike, you know what Andrew is like at telling stories. I promise you, I have never smooched on any item of furniture with the Immortal. Eew!” She shuddered. “Andrew kept telling me that I should go out more and not spend the evenings cuddling Mr. Gordo.”

“Mr. Gordo?” asked Spike, “Who the hell is Mr. Gordo? Sounds a right wanker.”

“My stuffed animal. It’s a pig. I’ve had him since I was six.”

“Oh,” said Spike weakly.

Buffy kissed him. “You still don’t know what I was like after I’d lost you, do you? I’d saved the world, Spike. I should have felt elated. But all I felt was empty. I was as destroyed inside as Sunnydale was on the outside. The price of saving the world had been too high. I never even dated anyone. No one could compare to you. I just threw myself into my duties training the young slayers and waited for the hurting to stop. It never did. I learned to hide it better, that’s all, so they all thought that I was moving on - but I never did. When were you in Rome anyway? Oh wait, it’ll have been during your ‘don’t tell her that I’m alive for her own good’ phase, am I right?” She smiled at him to soften her words.

“Er…yeah…Buffy,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

“Want to bet on that, buster?” teased Buffy.

“I don’t think so,” replied Spike, “I never was lucky with gambling. There was a horse this one time and …”

She sighed and cuddled into him. She loved it when he told her funny anecdotes from his past. She wanted to know all of his stories. His soft voice acted like a lullaby and soon she was asleep in his arms.

“That interesting, pet?” smiled Spike, dropping a kiss on her hair before settling down to sleep himself.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Out For Dinner

Spike glanced at the far wall of the therapy room. It looked like a long way to him.

“Ready, Spike?” asked Brad.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Buffy, would you follow behind him with the chair in case he needs it?”

“Yes, Brad,” replied Buffy.

“In your own time then, Spike. If you get tired or feel wobbly just sit in your chair. Don’t push yourself too hard,” said Brad, knowing that the last sentence would fall on deaf ears.

Spike took his feet from the rests on the chair, firmly grasped the metal walking frame and stood up.

“Easy now,” cautioned Brad.

Spike pushed the frame forwards and then followed with his feet, left first and then the right. He pushed the frame forwards again and repeated his actions. Although he still leant heavily on his arms as he stepped forwards, his legs were definitely getting stronger. He now lifted his feet as he went forwards rather than sliding them.

So far, he had never made the far wall before needing to sit down, but he was determined to do it today. Brad had told him that once he could walk the length of the room safely, he could have a frame to use in his room.

Buffy’s heart was in her mouth watching Spike’s progress. She was glad that she was behind him so that he couldn’t see her face. Her face showed a myriad of expressions as he made his way slowly along, from pride, to worry, and pain at how hard everything was for him still. One thing that she knew for sure was that today he would get to that far wall if it killed him.

Spike glanced up at the wall. Sweat was showing on his brow and the veins in his arms bulged with the strain. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Brad watching him anxiously. He knew that Buffy was close behind with his chair. He grinned, made sure that he had his balance and then lifted one hand from the walking frame, reaching out and touching the wall. He rested his palm against it. Finally he’d gotten to the bloody thing. It had taken him two weeks of trying.

“Easy,” he muttered.

“Well done, Spike,” said Brad, “Now sit yourself down.”

Spike looked over his shoulder and smiled as Buffy pushed the chair nearer to him. He lowered himself into it carefully.

“Thanks, pet.”

Buffy walked in front of him and put her arms around him, kissing him and whispering in his ear.

“I am so proud of you. You’re amazing.”

Spike clung to her, as always drawing strength from her love.

“Ahem!” said Brad, though by now he was pretty immune to how openly affectionate they were with each other.

“Sorry, Brad, just giving my man his reward,” joked Buffy.

“Hey, don’t you short change me. You promised a much better reward than that,” chuckled Spike.

“Too much information,” protested Brad, “Go on, get out of here. I’ll see you in the pool later.”

“Thanks, mate,” replied Spike, “So I get to take that thing home with me then?” He inclined his head towards the walking frame.

“You do, that was the deal,” said Brad, “Are you okay to take it, Buffy?”

“Yes, no problem.”

“Just, for God’s sake, watch him with it,” cautioned Brad, “Don’t let him do too much.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Buffy and Spike made their way back to their room.

“So how do you feel about spending a weekend in our apartment at the Old Hyperion?” asked Buffy.

So far they’d spent a couple of afternoons with Angel at the hotel but they hadn’t stayed overnight.

“I thought that Moira and Brad had to approve it before we could?” replied Spike.

“They do. I thought that we could ask them to come out to check it over on Friday night. I could cook a meal, you know, to say thank you to them.”

Spike raised his eyebrows at her. She slapped his shoulder.

“Okay, we can go out for dinner. Is that better?”

“It’d be safer anyway, pet,” grinned Spike, pushing himself forward sharply to get out of her reach.

“You are such a pig!”

“I know!”

000000000

The first time that Spike used the frame in their suite was another huge milestone that he had set for himself and passed. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Who would’ve thought that going to the bathroom could feel like such an achievement?

He sat back on the couch next to Buffy, putting his arm around her shoulder.

“So, are we including Peaches in our little dinner party?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” asked Buffy, glancing up at him.

“Don’t you think that the fact that he doesn’t eat anything might look a bit suspicious in a restaurant?”

“You ate normal food. So how come he doesn’t?”

Spike ran a hand seductively down his chest and smirked, “That’s because I’m special.”

“’Course you are, babe,” replied Buffy sarcastically with a smile.

“Angel could eat normal food, he just chooses not to. All part of the ‘big broody git, got to pay for my past sins’ guilt trip that he’s got going,” said Spike seriously.

“Really?”

“I dunno,” said Spike with a grin, “Food tastes different when you’re a vampire. Most just don’t like the flavour of anything anymore and don’t see the point since they don’t actually need it to survive.”

“Spike!” said Buffy, giving him a none too gentle push. “I believed you there for a minute. So why did you eat if it tasted different?”

“Well, a couple of reasons really. I did like the flavour of some things, like those onion flower thingies. Mostly it was to make me appear human. It’s a lot easier to get my proper dinner to go outside with me if I could chat them up over a plate of spicy wings. Made me look normal, blend in, you know?”

He looked at Buffy and noticed her grimacing a little.

“You asked, pet. I can’t change what I was.”

“I know,” said Buffy weakly.

Despite being around vampires for years, the thought of them just casually hunting in a bar still grossed her out. The thought that Spike actually chatted up his victims turned her stomach, although that was exactly what he’d done when the First had been controlling him.

“I’m glad that you’re human now,” she said quietly, snuggling in closer.

Spike looked down at her and surprised himself by saying ‘So am I’ before dropping a kiss on her head.

0000000

Angel came to visit that evening. He was delighted to see Spike using the walking frame, but he was careful not to say too much for fear that Spike might think that he was patronising him.

“We’re going to see if we can stay at the Hyperion this weekend,” said Buffy.

“That’s great, but didn’t you say that they needed to check it out first?” replied Angel.

“Yeah,” said Spike, “But Buffy’s got a plan.”

“A plan? What sort of plan?” asked Angel suspiciously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Buffy, “It’s a good plan. You like Moira, don’t you?”

“She’s all right, very…efficient,” replied Angel.

“I don’t mean like that. I mean as a woman? She’s attractive, tall, slim, do I need to carry on?”

“Christ! Yeah, she’s nice but what’s that got to do with it?”

Spike chuckled, “’Cause madam, here, fancies herself quite the matchmaker. She wants Moira and Brad to check out the apartment and go out for dinner with us afterwards. She’s going to include Brad’s girlfriend and that leaves you making up the numbers as Moira’s date.”

“A date!” exclaimed Angel.

“It’s just dinner, Angel,” soothed Buffy, “I just thought that it would be nice for us to get together outside of Rosedene.”

“But I don’t eat.”

“Surely you can for one night? It won’t kill you,” said Buffy.

“I dunno, Buffy…” started Angel.

“Oh, come on, you big git. Like she says it won’t bleeding kill you to socialise a bit.”

Angel looked at his friends and could see that they would just hassle him until he agreed, so he might as well give in sooner than later.

“Okay, I’ll come, but you’d better choose somewhere where I can get a rare steak.”

“It’s a deal,” said Buffy triumphantly, “I’ll call you when I book it.”

00000000

On Friday, Buffy and Spike went to the Hyperion at five thirty so that they could make sure that everything was ready for Brad and Moira to inspect. Both were confident that the apartment would be approved and were looking forward to spending time away from Rosedene.

“God, wouldn’t want to try for a quick getaway, eh pet?” said Spike wryly as they stowed a weekend bag, Spike’s walking frame, and wheelchair in the cab.

Buffy smiled and took his hand, “You’ll be back to travelling light soon.”

“It’ll be great when I don’t have to bring the chair along,” said Spike, who had had strict instructions from Brad to use his chair tonight, joking that it would be safer for him if he were going to drink liquor with his meal.

They put their bag and the walking frame in the apartment and then waited with Angel in the foyer for the others to arrive.

Spike had teased Angel about his appearance when he saw him wearing a dark blue suit.

“And just how much gel did you have to use on your hair to get it to defy gravity like that?” added Spike. He laughed when he was rewarded with a low growl.

“At least I know how to dress properly,” retorted Angel, pointedly looking at Spike’s jeans and open necked shirt. “And my hair isn’t radioactive.”

“I’ve got my woman, mate. I don’t need to dress to impress. I do hope that Moira likes men in suits with boring ties.”

Before Angel could reply, Buffy stepped in.

“Oh, for God’s sake, shut up the both of you! You’re worse than children. No more bickering tonight.”

Spike and Angel looked suitably chastened.

“My tie’s not boring,” muttered Angel, looking at it.

Buffy shot him a warning look and then the three of them burst out laughing. Brad walked in, holding the hand of a pretty girl with a rounded figure.

“Has the party started already?”

“Hi Brad, glad you could make it, “ said Buffy.

Brad and his girlfriend walked over to them and he did the introductions.

“Laura, this is Spike. Don’t ask him how he got his nickname - I’ve tried and he won’t tell,” said Brad, “This is his girlfriend, Buffy and this is Angel. Guys, this is Laura.”

A chorus of ‘hi’s’ followed and then introductions were started again with the arrival of Moira. Spike and Buffy exchanged a smile as they noticed Angel straighten his tie as Moira walked in.

They all went through to the apartment where Moira and Brad cast their expert eyes over the accommodations.

“Buffy tells me that you did a lot of the work yourself,” Moira said to Angel.

“Yeah, I got experts to fit the kitchen and bathroom but I did the interior walls myself.”

“Well, I’m sure that Brad will agree with me when I say that you have done an excellent job and that I have no qualms about Spike spending time here.”

“You’re right Moira, it’s faultless in its design,” agreed Brad.

“Thanks,” said Angel, looking a tad embarrassed, “Shall we go to the restaurant now?”

In the end Buffy had chosen one that was within walking distance of the Old Hyperion, to save them all having to drive there. She checked with Angel to make sure that the route to it would be shaded. It was a lovely evening and the walk helped to break the ice and let them get to know each other.

Conversation was easy and the meal was a relaxed affair. Spike was surprised that he didn’t feel at all self-conscious about being in the wheelchair. He wondered if it was because he knew that soon he would no longer need it or whether he’d simply come to terms with it.

As they were waiting for coffee at the end of the meal, Spike headed to use the bathroom after checking that it was user friendly for him. Everyone at the table thought better than to offer to help him and it wasn’t until he’d been gone for ten minutes that they thought that something might be wrong.

“I’ll go and check on him,” offered Brad, knowing that Spike would mind less if he were the one to help him if he’d fallen.

He walked quickly to the bathroom and pushed the door open. The first thing that he saw was Spike’s wheelchair lying on its side.

“Spike!”

He pushed open all the doors of the other cubicles but there was no sign of him anywhere.

“What the hell?”

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gone!

Brad ran back to the others. Buffy was out of her chair the instant she saw his face, panic rising in her even before he spoke.

“Gone!” blurted Brad, “Spike’s gone!”

“What do you mean – gone?” cried Buffy.

“His chair is overturned but there is no sign of him at all.”

“Oh my God,” gasped Buffy. She started towards the bathroom but Angel was too quick for her.

He put a hand on her arm, “Keep them back. Let me go check it out first.” He flashed his eyes amber for a second so she would know that he was going to draw on his vampiric senses.

“You’ve got a minute and then I’m coming after you,” said Buffy reluctantly but seeing the sense in Angel’s plan.

Angel raced to the bathroom. He vamped up and concentrated hard. He inhaled deeply, eyes closed. Spike’s scent was there, clear and strong, but he couldn’t isolate another one. There were just too many unfamiliar smells. He followed Spike’s scent along the hallway and out into the alley at the back of the restaurant. He ran to the end of it and then snarled in frustration as the scent trail stopped abruptly. This was where he must have been put into a vehicle.

He turned as he heard footsteps behind him, quickly shaking his features back to human when he saw Brad was with Buffy. Had he changed them quick enough? Brad was looking at him a bit oddly but didn’t say anything.

“He was taken away in some sort of vehicle,” said Angel striding past Brad to avoid him asking how he knew what had happened. “There’s nothing of any use out here.”

Moira had her arms around Laura when they all got back inside.

“What’s happened?” asked Moira as soon as she saw them.

“He’s been kidnapped. He was taken away in a vehicle that was waiting at the end of the alley,” said Angel. He put his arm around Buffy and whispered in her ear. “There was no blood, Buffy, not a trace, but I couldn’t isolate the scent of who took him.”

“Oh God, Angel, if he d…”

“He won’t!” said Angel firmly, “We’ll find him, I promise you.”

He glanced around at the others, “There’s nothing that we can do here. Let’s get back to the Hyperion. I’ll get the check.”

“It’s already done,” said Moira, “But shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No!” shouted Buffy.

“Why ever not?” asked Moira.

“Look, Moira, I’ll explain more when we get back to the hotel,” said Angel. “Yeah, when I’ve thought of something that I can tell you that doesn’t include ‘Spike’s probably been taken by a demon’.”

Moira stared at him for a moment before nodding her agreement. Brad disappeared towards the bathroom and when he came back he was pushing the chair in front of him. Buffy had to bite her lip to keep from crying. She had to be strong.

“I thought there might be fingerprints on it or something,” explained Brad.

They left the restaurant after Angel quietly left a huge tip with the manager to ensure nothing was mentioned about the fact that the wheelchair was now empty. It was a much brisker and more sombre walk back to the hotel than it had been to the restaurant just few hours earlier. No one spoke. Once inside Angel took them into Spike and Buffy’s apartment, as it was the nearest room that had enough seats to accommodate them all.

As soon as they were all inside Moira turned to Angel, “So why are you not going to call the police, Angel? They have to be informed.”

“Not yet, Moira. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet,” said Angel, “The work that Spike and I were involved with was …er…very sensitive and undercover. If it’s related to that then we just can’t afford to involve the police because it would be beyond their understanding. You’ll just have to trust me on that, okay?”

“Okay,” said Moira doubtfully.

“Buffy, can I talk with you alone please?” asked Angel.

She nodded and the two of them left the apartment. Three rather bemused people watched them go.

“What’s going on, Moira? This all seems pretty weird to me. No matter what he says, the cops should be told.” said Brad as soon as they'd left.

“I think that we should just do as Angel suggests for now,” replied Moira.

“But in the alley, he looked…” Brad faltered.

“What?” asked Laura, putting a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Brad in frustration, “When he turned around…for a second…he looked…different.”

“In what way?” said Laura softly.

“I know it sounds stupid but his eyes looked…paler…and his face…somehow…but then it was gone.” He sighed deeply, realising that it sounded ridiculous. “It was pretty dark, I guess.” He paced restlessly up and down. “There must be something that we can do.”

00000000

Angel took Buffy into his office and closed the door.

“What are we going to do, Angel? We’ve got to find him. He’s helpless. He won’t be able to defend himself,” said Buffy, her calm voice belying the devastation etched on her face. She was the Slayer and she was rapidly getting into battle mode.

“I’m not sure what we can do, Buff,” said Angel honestly, “We don’t know what’s taken him or why. I didn’t get a trace of any species of demon that I’m familiar with, but I can’t think why a human would take him.”

“What about Wolfram & Hart? They had humans on the payroll, didn’t they?”

“Yes, but they wouldn’t send a human to do a job like this. It’d be too difficult for them. They’d want someone more than human - someone stronger.”

“Angel, you’ve seen him. He can barely stand without holding onto his walker. It wouldn’t take much to overpower him.”

“They’d still have to carry him down the alley to the getaway vehicle at the end of it. The alley was too narrow for cars to drive in and that’s where his scent disappeared. There must be a demon involved. It’s just not one that I’ve come across before,” replied Angel. He slammed his fist into the desk, causing a crack to snake its way across its surface. “We don’t know anything, Buffy, and I don’t know how the hell we’re going to find him.”

Buffy felt like she was about to crumble but she gritted her teeth and refused once more to let the tears come.

“Okay, so this is the plan. I’m going out there to find every demon bar in the city and I’ll beat and kill, if necessary, anything I come across until I get some useful information.”

She glared at Angel, daring him to try to stop her. Instead he just gave a small sad smile.

“That’s what I was going to suggest we do.”

“That’s figured out. Now we need to get rid of the others. There’s no reason for them to be involved,” said Buffy.

“I’m not sure we’re going to be able to get them to just walk away. They like Spike and technically he’s still under their care.”

“Christ,” snarled Buffy, “So what are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe they will go if we tell them to go home. If not, then we’ll have to think of something.”

00000000

Three heads swivelled around to stare at them as Buffy and Angel walked back into the apartment.

“I’m not sure that you’ll be safe here. I think that you should go home,” said Angel.

Moira stood up. “God, you sound like one of those self-sacrificing heroes in a bad action movie. I have the weekend off and since this is a hotel I’m presuming that you’ll have a room I can use?”

“That goes for me too,” said Brad.

“And me,” added Laura.

“No, Laura, I need you to go home,” said Brad.

“What, so I’ll be safe?” she retorted. She glanced at Moira, “It must be a man thing!”

Despite the tension, or maybe because of it, they all laughed a little.

“So what can we do to help?” asked Moira.

“For now, I need you all to sit tight here. Stay near the phone in case we get a call,” said Buffy, needing a plausible reason for keeping them safely inside, not thinking for a moment that the telephone would ring,

“Where are you going?” asked Brad.

“Angel and I are going to check out some…er…contacts. Find out what the word on the street is.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, Brad, it can only be us. These…people know Spike and Angel and they’ll be jittery enough with me being with him, without having you there as well.”

Brad could see that Buffy and Angel wouldn’t be persuaded otherwise and conceded to stay put.

“Don’t let anyone in before we get back – no matter what they say. This is my cell number. iI anyone comes here let me know right away.”

All three of them nodded silently and watched Angel and Buffy leave.

000000000

Buffy and Angel went to the weapons room. Buffy selected a stake and a small but lethally sharp dagger so that both weapons could be easily concealed. Angel took a stake and a short handled axe which he hung from a specially designed loop inside his jacket.

“You’ve done this before,” she said wryly, watching him put the axe in its place.

“We’ll get him, Buffy. He’ll be all right.”

Buffy’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she pushed the thoughts of what might be happening to Spike firmly out of her mind. Not helpful. She let the anger at whoever had taken him build up inside of her. She hadn’t patrolled or even trained since she’d been reunited with Spike and drawing on the rage would sharpen her up.

Together they strode out of the Old Hyperion heading towards the nearest demon bar.

tbc

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Captive Audience

Spike had just pushed the door to the bathroom open when he heard someone coming up behind him. He turned his head to see who it was but before he saw anything a strong hand clamped a sweet smelling cloth over his nose and mouth. Spike desperately tried to claw the hand away but the drug soon overpowered him and the last thing that he was aware of was falling as his wheelchair tipped on its side.

His attacker tensed as the chair clattered to the ground but no one had heard it. He took his hand away from Spike’s face and put the cloth and the latex gloves he’d been wearing into a plastic bag. He tied the top securely to make sure that none of the vapour could escape. He didn’t want to be knocked out by his own drug.

He peered out into the corridor and when he saw that it was empty he ducked back inside. He hauled the limp body of Spike over his shoulder with very little effort and walked quickly to where he’d left the rear door propped open. He allowed it to swing shut behind them and relaxed a little now that he was safe in the darkness of the alley. He carried Spike to a van waiting at the end of it. He unlocked the back door and threw Spike in, not caring how he landed. He locked the door behind him, got into the driver’s seat and drove slowly away, being careful not to draw attention to it by speeding.

He pulled up outside his destination and retrieved the still inert Spike from the van. Once more he carried him over his shoulder until he got him to where he wanted him.

He secured Spike and then stood back to admire his captive. He laughed softly.

“Oh yes, Spike, you’re going to change my life.”

Then he left the room leaving the very bright lights on, knowing that they wouldn’t disturb Spike.

“I’ll be back in a few hours when hopefully you’ll be nicely awake.”

00000000

Spike groaned and started to stir. He tried to move and his consciousness snapped back with almost a painful jolt as panic set in when he found he was unable to move. He couldn’t even see.

“Christ! No!”

He then nearly wept with relief as he realised that he was securely bound rather than totally paralysed. He was held in a sitting position; his back against a cold wall and his legs straight out in front of him. Around his neck was a metal collar that was attached directly to the wall behind him, ensuring that he couldn’t move it at all. He wriggled his hands and felt that they were bound tightly together and were fastened to a chain around his waist holding them close to his stomach. This chain was also attached to the wall behind him holding him in position. His ankles were chained together and were stretched out as far as they could go, giving an unpleasant feeling of strain through his muscles.

The lack of sight was explained by the fact he was wearing some kind of mask that covered his eyes. Oh, and he was completely naked.

“Bollocks,” he groaned.

Even if he were at full strength there was no was that he could get out of these shackles. He resigned himself to what was probably going to be a very long wait. It always was.

Now that the drug was wearing off he was aware of the collar digging into his neck every time his head lolled forwards. Soon the strain on his legs from being held so outstretched coalesced into proper pain as his weak muscles began to protest.

Spike had no idea of how long he’d been asleep or awake for that matter. He heard footsteps approaching and turned his head towards their direction, wincing as the collar bit into his neck.

“Ah, Spike, you’re awake at last. I was starting to think that perhaps I was going to have to hose you down to bring you around.”

“Fuck off,” snarled Spike, straining against his chains.

His captor moved swiftly to his prisoner and grabbed his exposed manhood, squeezing excruciatingly tight. Spike cried out in pain.

“Watch your mouth. You couldn’t even imagine what I could do to you,” he growled.

Spike moaned with relief as the vice-like grip was released, his breath coming in pants. It didn’t help that Spike’s imagination was having no problem at all in coming up with different scenarios that could be carried out. They were playing through his mind like videos. All had the same theme – pain - lots and lots of pain. Spike got his breathing under control and raised his chin a little.

“Piss off.” He was pleased that his voice sounded strong, “Sodding coward. Scared of letting me see who you are.”

He held himself tense, waiting for retaliation but his captor’s hands went not to inflict more pain but to tear the mask from Spike’s face.

“It won’t hurt for you to see me,” he said, his voice sounding amused by Spike’s defiance.

Spike squeezed his eyes shut as the bright lights shining at him blinded him. He opened them again, still squinting. His captor was silhouetted against the light. Spike couldn’t see his face. He glanced quickly around him and saw to his surprise that he wasn’t on the floor but on a raised platform of some kind. He was level with the waist of the man beside him.

His captor moved slightly so that the light illuminated his features. Spike tensed when he saw him.

“I’m fucked.”

His captor laughed, “I see that you recognise me though I’m certain that we haven’t actually met until now.” He stepped closer to Spike.

“Heard of you,” admitted Spike, “I was obviously wrong when I thought the descriptions of how ugly you are were exaggerated.”

Lightening swift, his captor lashed out with his fist and punched Spike in the mouth. His head banged painfully against the rough stonewall behind him. Blood dripped from his split lip. Spike licked at it and then spat at his captor.

“Oh, Spike, you never learn, do you? Always got to be so cocky.” His hand gripped Spike’s balls again, squeezing hard. “Maybe losing these will quieten you down?” He laughed as Spike’s face paled. He let go with a final squeeze. “I’ll be back later with some food for you. I need to keep you in good condition if you’re going to achieve the best price.”

Spike sagged in his restraints as he left. His mind was racing but the only thing that it came up with was that he was well and truly screwed. He focussed on what he knew of the creature that had kidnapped him, for creature is what he is. Nomel was a legend in the demon world. Part Nitram demon and part human, he could pass as wholly human, albeit an ugly one with a broad pig-like nose, as long as he wore dark glasses to disguise the fact that the pupils of his pale grey eyes were like vertical slits.

Nomel was a bounty hunter. He would take money to track someone down but instead of killing his target, his terms are that he would decide what to do next. This mostly consisted of selling his victim to the highest bidder from any dimension. Most of his targets were ‘bought’ by the ones who had instigated the hit in the first place so they could torture or kill as they saw fit. Others were sold into slave rings in demonic dimensions.

Spike thought it ironic that he was now most likely, or was that hopefully, going to die just as he’d begun to relish living again. He’d heard tales of what happened to slaves and he hoped that if Buffy and Angel couldn’t find him in time that he’d simply be put to death. Only that was never usually that simple either.

He tried to blank his mind out altogether. He daren’t think of Buffy; it just hurt too much to think that he might never see her again.

00000000

Nomel returned carrying a mug full of steaming liquid.

“Drink this,” he ordered, holding the cup to Spike’s lips.

“You’re a bit behind the times mate, I’m not a vampire anymore.”

“Nomel pressed the cup closer to Spike’s mouth. “I know. Drink it.”

Spike pursed his lips tight. Nomel took hold of Spike’s face, digging his fingers into his cheeks so hard that he forced Spike’s mouth open. He lifted Spike’s chin as high as the collar would allow and poured some of the blood into his mouth. Using the heel of his hand he pushed Spike’s chin up to close his mouth and pinched his nose with his fingers. Spike had no option but to swallow. Nomel repeated the action with Spike coughing and choking until the mug was empty. Blood had dribbled down Spike’s chin and Nomel wiped it away.

“Can’t have you looking dirty when the bidders arrive.”

“So who put the hit on me?” asked Spike. His tongue felt sluggish and his vision was starting to get fuzzy. The blood had obviously been drugged.

“The ruler of the Polgara,” said Nomel, “Apparently you took out two of his heirs to the throne when you had your last fight. Their bodyguards were the ones who stuck you. For a while it was thought that you’d died from your injuries. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the street that day. So I let them know that you had lived and offered to take you out.”

“That’s good of you,” slurred Spike.

“I thought so,” said Nemol with a chuckle, “But you’re a popular guy, Spike. I’ve got interest in you from so many places that I’ve arranged for potential purchasers to gather for the auction so that they can view you for themselves before they bid. Some may even want to test you out beforehand. Shame about the legs, though, it was putting some demons off.” He slapped one lightly. “But I’ve done my research, that’s why I waited until now to take you. No point until I had all the ingredients that I needed. The blood and the drugs I’ve given you will speed up your already enhanced healing powers. It’s such a shame that your little friends hadn’t found this out. Otherwise you would have been walking by now. Mind you, the blood of the Yenomi isn’t available in this dimension. A good thing from my point of view as you would have been much harder to catch. As it was you were a real pushover.” He laughed.

“Ha bleeding ha,” Spike tried to say but it just came out as an unintelligible mumble.

“I’ll be back every hour with your medicine,” said Nemol as he left.

Spike felt very peculiar, like he was floating but at the same time his legs felt like they were being crushed under immense weights. His mind was alert but he felt totally calm, like he actually wanted to be here. The pain when it hit him was excruciating, like the pain he’d suffered since being operated on only magnified by about fifty. Spike knew that he was screaming although no sound came out of his mouth. His already blurred vision began to darken at the edges and with relief he passed out.

The next thing that he knew was Nemol slapping his face to bring him round.

“Hurts, don’t it? They said it would. They offered me ingredients to add to the mixture to prevent it but I said that the legendary ‘William the Bloody’ would be able to take it.”

Spike squinted at him, trying and failing to get Nemol in focus. He opened his mouth but still couldn’t speak.

“Time for some more. Are you going to drink it without me having to force you this time?”

“No!” roared Spike in his mind but to his amazement he nodded and gulped the foul tasting concoction down hungrily.

Nemol laughed, “God, those Escruocs really know their stuff. If you fetch more than your reserve price I might just give them a bonus.” He looked deep into Spike’s unfocussed eyes. “They said that one of the drugs would make you both mute and obedient. How cool is that?”

Spike thought it wasn’t very cool at all. He didn’t like that fact one little bit.

“Oh, yes, nearly forgot. It’s also highly addictive too. By the time you’re sold you’ll be willing to sell your soul to be given more.”

Spike closed his eyes as the drugs got into his system. Again he had the weird combination of the feeling of floating whilst his legs felt like lead.

00000000

By the time that Nemol had returned with the fifth mug of blood in as many hours, Spike’s vision had cleared and the pain had gone completely. He stared at the mug in Nemol’s hand eagerly. Nemol teased him by swaying it to and fro in front of Spike’s face, laughing as his eyes never left it. He strained against the collar to reach it.

“Want it, do you?”

Spike nodded rapidly, calmly accepting that he could no longer speak.

“Do your legs still hurt?”

Spike shook his head from side to side.

“Let’s see if this stuff had worked then, shall we?”

Spike whimpered as Nemol put the mug down and began to unfasten the chains around his ankles. He glanced up to see Spike staring at the mug.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Reluctantly Spike brought his gaze from the mug to Nemol.

“You’re going to do as you’re told, okay? Otherwise the blood goes away. Understand?”

Spike glanced briefly at the blood and then met Nemol’s eyes once more and nodded.

Nemol unlocked the chains on his ankles. Spike sighed as the strain was released. Then he unfastened the chain around his waist but left his hands bound together. Finally he unlocked the metal collar.

“Right, Spike. I want you to stand up for me.”

Spike swung his legs over the side of the platform and slid off it until he was standing beside it.

“Do they feel strong?”

Spike nodded.

“Go and stand in that corner,” said Nemol, pointing to the one furthest from the door.

Without hesitating Spike strode over and stood facing the wall.

“Yeah, I thing the Esruoc will get their bonus,” chuckled Nemol. “Come back and sit on here.”

Spike turned around, walked over to the platform, hitched himself up onto it and then stared pointedly at the mug.

“Here.” Nemol picked up the mug. Spike leant forwards to try to sip it. “You can hold it yourself.” Nemol pushed the mug into Spike’s hands.

Spike shivered in anticipation of the feelings that it gave him. He drained it in a few big swallows and offered the mug back to Nemol.

“Come along, let’s get you to your new quarters before this dose makes you too groggy to move. I’ll adjust the strength next time now I know that you’re healed.”

Spike obediently walked beside Nemol. Somewhere in his mind a part of him was rejoicing at being able to walk with such ease. But another tiny part that the drugs couldn’t suppress was all too aware of the high cost of his healing but it was too small a part to be able to resist Nemol’s orders.

tbc

Chapter Thirty

The Truth Will Out

As dawn was breaking Buffy and Angel returned to the Old Hyperion exhausted and thoroughly disheartened. Despite all of their efforts they’d found no clue as to what had happened to Spike. Too tired to talk they plodded into the foyer.

Moira must have been looking out for them as they had barely stepped inside before she approached them.

“Any news?” she asked.

Angel wearily shook his head and Buffy finally lost control and burst into tears. Moira guided her to the seats in the centre of the foyer and sat with her arm around the younger woman. Buffy clung to her.

“Where are the others?” asked Angel.

“They’re sleeping. We decided to keep watch one at a time so the others could get some rest. No one has called or been here.”

Moira gestured for Angel to take her place with Buffy.

“I’ll go and make her a hot drink,” she said.

Angel sat next to Buffy and swore that he’d find Spike and kill whoever had taken him, as he felt Buffy’s body wracked with sobs. With his thoughts elsewhere he realised too late that Moira had gone to the refrigerator in his office and not in the apartment.

“Oh Christ,” he muttered, easing himself away from Buffy.

He got up and rushed to the office, freezing as he saw Moira standing in front of the refrigerator. The door was open and she held a mug of blood in her hand. She turned to look at Angel, screamed and dropped the mug. It broke and the blood splattered over her shoes. She stepped back in horror. Angel hadn’t taken any blood the previous night and the rare steak had done little to appease his need. Now tired and hungry as he was he’d been unable to keep the demon from showing its face when he’d smelled the blood. Moira’s terror appealed to the demon within and he struggled to change back. He held his hands up to try to placate her. Buffy raced into the room.

“What’s happening?” Her eyes darted everywhere seeking the reason for Moira’s scream. Moira’s eyes were locked on to Angel. Buffy glanced at him. “Oh, crap!”

She noticed the spilled blood and could guess what had happened. She walked quickly to the refrigerator, took out a couple of bags of blood and tossed them to Angel who was still in his game face.

“I think you’d better go and get some rest.”

Buffy turned her attention to Moira who was still transfixed.

“Come on Moira, let’s go and sit down,” said Buffy gently.

“But his…the refrigerator…what…?” stuttered Moira as her very logical mind tried to make sense of what she’d seen.

“We’ll go to the apartment. It’ll be a bit comfier there,” said Buffy, putting a hand on Moira and encouraging her to move.

Meekly she allowed Buffy to lead her to the apartment and she sat down with a thud on the couch. Buffy made a couple of cups of coffee and put four teaspoonfuls of sugar in one of them. She was aware that Moira was watching her intently. Buffy sat down next to her and passed her the sweetened cup.

“I don’t take sugar,” said Moira, her voice shaky.

“Trust me, if you want to know the truth about us then you’re going to need the sugar to help with the shock,” replied Buffy with a smile.

“I’m not sure that I want to know the truth but I think that I need to know it,” said Moira, sipping at her coffee and grimacing at its unaccustomed sweetness.

“Okay, how do I do this? Do I break it gently? Or do I …” “Angel’s a vampire,” said Buffy, deciding that breaking it gently wasn’t really an option.

Moira choked on her coffee. It wasn’t so much a reaction to what Buffy had said, rather the calm manner in which she said it.

“But…he…how…?” Moira gave up. Her brain just couldn’t put her thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I know that it’s a shock and it wasn’t the best way for you to find out,” said Buffy.

“Like there is a good way to find out that someone is a vampire?” thought Moira incredulously.

Seeing that the poor woman next to her was struggling to cope, Buffy said, “I’ll give you a brief version of the details and you can just ask questions as we go along, okay?”

Moira nodded.

“Some of the things that people think are legend or myth are actually real. We share this world with a variety of creatures that you don’t think exist; vampires are just one of them. Angel was turned into a vampire in 1753 and for many years he acted exactly as you would expect a storybook vampire to behave. He killed and terrorised, mostly for the fun of it. Then one day he was cursed by gypsies after killing one of their clan and they gave him back his soul.”

“His soul?” queried Moira, “Why would that be a curse?”

“When a person is turned into a vampire a demon is released into them, bringing immortality and the need for blood with it. But the soul is driven out because a vampire must have no conscience about the kills he makes, he must feel no guilt or remorse, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to hunt. When the gypsies cursed Angel with the return of his soul he could feel the guilt for every single person he had ever killed. It almost drove him insane but eventually he learned to deal. He joined forces with me for a while before coming to LA to help people in need to try to atone for his past sins.”

“But the blood…”

“A vampire has to have blood, there is just no way he can avoid that, but he drinks either animal blood or donated human blood that is no longer fit for use.”

“Oh,” said Moira weakly, “So Angel is unique then, in being a vampire with a soul?”

“Yes,” replied Buffy honestly, not wanting to get into any conversations about Spike’s life.

“You said that he joined forces with you. What did that mean? Are you a vampire too?”

“No, I’m a vampire slayer,” said Buffy.

“Now you’re fooling with me,” snapped Moira.

“No, I’m not, Moira,” soothed Buffy before telling her about slayers.

“So where does Spike fit into this? He’s not normal either, is he? That would explain his recovery.”

“What do I say?” “He’s sort of a demon fighter like me,” said Buffy, “He does have enhanced healing powers but it’s something that happened to him recently as a reward for…er…averting an …um…well, an apocalypse.” “Nice explanation Buffy – way to go!” she thought sarcastically.

“Right,” said Moira slowly, “So you’re telling me that Spike saved the world?”

“Twice actually,” said Buffy with a grin, “Though he does claim at least half the credit for another.”

“You do know how crazy this all sounds?”

“I do, Moira, but I swear to you that it’s true.”

“If I hadn’t seen…I would never have believed you.”

“Angel will be feeling terrible that he scared you. He normally can control his demon but when a vampire is stressed or too hungry for blood the demon can fight its way out unbidden. He’s a good person, Moira; please don’t think badly of him. He can’t help what he is.”

“So what do you think has happened to Spike?” asked Moira, “Is that something supernatural too?”

Buffy sagged a little. “We’re sure it’s demonic but we got no clues tonight at all. We don’t know where he is or why he was taken.”

Moira looked at Buffy properly for the first time since her return and saw the exhaustion in her face.

“I think that you need to get some rest. I’ll be okay. It’s Brad’s turn for watch. I’ll go and wake him and then I can sleep on everything that you have told me. Let it sink in some.”

“I am about ready to drop,” admitted Buffy, “Are you sure that you’re okay though?”

Moira nodded, “Just get some sleep. We can talk more later.”

Buffy walked up the stairs with Moira. Not able to bear sleeping in the apartment without Spike, she instead went to his old bedroom. Buffy showered quickly and snuggled into the sheets, savouring the faint smell of him on the t-shirt she pulled from a drawer to sleep in.

Moira walked further along the corridor to the door where Brad and Laura were sleeping. She raised her hand to knock and then stopped. Was there really any point in waking him? It was obvious that the whole ‘wait beside the telephone’ thing had been a ruse to keep them out of the way. She decided to let them sleep. She walked back along the corridor to the room that she knew was Angel’s. When they’d been looking for bedrooms they could use they’d opened the doors to both Spike and Angel’s. She tapped lightly on the door.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and stepped inside. Angel sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He’d expected it to be Buffy but as the door opened he could smell Moira. He didn’t turn around.

“C…can we talk?” asked Moira hesitantly.

Angel sighed, “I suppose we had better,” he replied quietly.

Why did he always end up attracted to humans? He couldn’t be with another vampire because of his soul. By now he should have learnt that human/vampire relationships were doomed before they started, even with ones who knew of the demon world.

When Angel didn’t move from sitting with his back to her Moira walked round until she was in front of him. He self-consciously pushed the two empty blood bags under the bed hoping that she hadn’t noticed. She had.

“Angel?”

He looked up at her. She was tall, very tall for a woman, at just about six feet. He felt a pang as he suddenly had an inkling of how Spike must have felt having to look up at everyone from his chair. No wonder he’d wanted to use the walker so badly. Something must have shown in Angel’s face because Moira reached out and touched his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He met her eyes, surprised that she’d care after he’d scared the life out of her downstairs. He felt ashamed at losing control like that. It had been the first time in years that he had and it just had to happen in front of the first woman he’d truly felt attracted to since Cordelia.

“I’ve been better,” he said honestly, “I’m sorry that I frightened you.” He looked off, not able to meet her eye again.

Moira pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, close enough that their knees were almost touching.

“Um…Buffy told me what you are.”

She noticed him flinch as she said ‘what’. Angel just remained silent.

“Angel, when I asked if we could talk I didn’t mean for me to be the only one doing any.”

Angel looked up, amazed at her amused tone of voice. She smiled at him.

“Okay, I’ve shown her my game face with no warning and she can still smile at me…?”

Angel risked a smile back. “Sorry, I just don’t know what to say. I’m not so good with words. Normally Spike has enough for the both of us.”

Moira’s smile broadened slightly, “Yes, Spike can be a bit vocal,” she said softly, “He’s not normal either, is he? Buffy didn’t tell me his story but will you?”

“I think that you and Brad and Laura really should go home and forget about us all,” replied Angel firmly, “You’ll be safer.”

“What? And just forget what I saw downstairs?” snapped Moira, “For God’s sake, Angel, how can you expect me to walk away knowing that vampires and Christ knows what else exists? How is that safer? Every time I have lunch with an attractive man I’ll be wondering if he’s really a vampire. The next time it’ll be one without a soul, as Buffy told me that you were unique, so presumably I’d end up as dessert. I had the feeling there was something not quite right with you and Spike but hell, I never expected this.”

Angel looked at her incredulously. “How can you bear to be near me, knowing what I am?”

“I’m a thirty-seven year old forthright, professional woman, Angel. Have you any idea how difficult it is to find someone who is looking for what I am?”

They stared at each other for a moment before laughing softly.

“You’re remarkable,” said Angel.

“Remarkable, eh? I was hoping for ‘hot’ but I can settle for that, I suppose,” said Moira with a wry smile.

Angel could sense her arousal, just as he had each time that they’d met. The difference was that this time, she knew exactly what he was. He tentatively reached out and took her hand.

“I should make you leave.”

“You’re forgetting the whole ‘forthright woman’ thing. That really translates to bossy surely you know that?”

“That’s true.” He smiled. “Why did you think that there was something odd about me and Spike?” asked Angel curiously, “I thought I did a pretty good job at being ‘normal’.”

“A few things really. Don’t forget, I am a psychiatrist so I pick up on subtle things.” She frowned, “I wasn’t good enough to prevent Spike’s suicide attempt though.” She sighed and then continued, “The fact that you always paid the not inconsiderable bill with cash made me sit up and take notice. I thought that you might be with the Mafia. Then there was the relationship between the both of you. To begin with I thought that you were a couple…” Moira chuckled at the horrified expression on Angel’s face. “But then I decided that it was more like father and son which struck me as odd as you were of a similar age - or appeared to be anyway. Then that day we had lunch and you were so adamant about sitting in the shade in the dining room and not near a window, that I thought that you must have some strange phobia of it. You are very pale after all. I guess I know why now. Is it true that vampires can’t go out in sunlight?”

“Yes it’s true. There’s a slight problem with spontaneous combustion. Most of the movies got the facts just about right. We need an invitation to get into a private home. A wooden stake in the heart or lopping off our heads will, in addition to sunlight, kill us. Crosses and holy water burn us. Garlic? Well, that just makes the victim taste freaking terrible,” said Angel, trying and failing to shock Moira.

“Can’t bear the stuff myself,” she replied.

“Christ, she’s incredible.”

“That’s a step up from remarkable I guess?” said Moira, startling Angel who hadn’t realised that he’d said it aloud.

He looked deep into her eyes, “It’s about three steps up from ‘hot’,” he said quietly. God, he wanted to kiss her but he knew that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Moira got up and sat on the bed next to him. When he turned to look at her she leaned in close and kissed him gently on his lips. He pulled away.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Buffy says that you’re a good man, Angel. It’s hard to find a good man that’s taller than me,” she smiled.

“I’d better tell you about Spike,” said Angel, unwilling to go where she wanted to just yet. He needed her to be aware of everything before he took that step.

“Okay,” said Moira, sensing the conflict in Angel and guessing its cause. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting on a bed next to a centuries old vampire, let alone that she’d just kissed one.

“I met Spike for the first time in 1880…”

tbc

Chapter Thirty-One

More Shocks

Nemol whistled happily and tunelessly as he led Spike to the room where the viewings would take place. He watched the former vampire carefully as they walked along. He was amazed at how well the healing had gone. Spike had a very slight trace of a limp on his right leg but it was incredible that literally the day before he had been able to stand only by clinging to the metal frame he had. Nemol had seen him use it in the room at Rosedene.

Nemol paused when he got to the viewing room. Should he secure Spike ready for viewing or should he let him be a little more comfortable in the small glass cell in the corner? He opted for the latter deciding that he would prepare Spike later in the day. He had to take into account that this was actually the first time he’d be auctioning a human and so his levels of endurance would be less. He couldn’t afford to have Spike looking too weary for the prospective purchasers. Plus he was going to change the combination of drugs a little. He wanted Spike to be fully aware of what was happening to him. The addiction to the Yenomi blood would be enough to control him. Nemol smiled nastily. Yes, that would make it even better, without the drugs clouding his mind and making him obedient Spike would suffer that little bit more.

They reached the cell. Nemol opened the door.

“Spike, look at me.” Spike turned to meet his eyes. “Kiss my feet and then get into the cell.” “May as well have a little fun along the way!”

Nemol laughed as Spike immediately dropped to his knees and kissed each of Nemol’s feet before crawling into the cell and turning back to look at him.

“Good boy, Spike,” smirked Nemol, stroking his head as if he were a pet. He slammed the door shut and walked away, leaving a puzzled-looking Spike behind.

0000000000

Buffy tossed and turned on the bed, too exhausted and worried to sleep.

“Willow!” she cried suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her cell phone, “Why didn’t I think of that earlier!”

She dialled her friend’s number with trembling hands.

“Hi, Buffy,” said Willow’s cheerful voice, having seen who it was from the caller I.D.. “How are things?”

“Spike’s gone,” said Buffy abruptly, “Something has taken him and I need you to do a locator spell.”

“Oh? Um…okay…I’ll get on it right away,” replied Willow, knowing Buffy too well to try to get the details now, “I’ll call you back as soon as it’s done.”

“Thanks, Will,” said Buffy gratefully.

She sat and counted the minutes until her cell rang again. She snatched it up and answered it.

“Did you find him?”

Willow held the phone away from her ear as soon as she spoke. She knew that Buffy wouldn’t like her answer.

“I’m sorry, Buff, but the spell just kept bouncing back. Wherever he is it’s cloaked, impermeable to spells.”

“No!” yelled Buffy, “What are we going to do, Will? I’ve got to find him.”

“Giles has asked the coven in England to get their seer to try to trace the magics involved in cloaking something so successfully. You’ll be told as soon as we hear back.”

“Thanks, Willow. Sorry for yelling, it’s just…”

“It’s Spike,” supplied Willow, “I understand, Buff. You sound exhausted.”

“I am but I’m just too wired to sleep.”

“Ah,” thought Willow, “that I can help with.” She muttered a short Latin phrase and then advised Buffy to try to sleep again.

To Buffy’s surprise she yawned as she hung up and was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

Willow smiled as she put the phone down. That little spell would give Buffy at least a couple of hours of dreamless sleep.

00000000

Spike lay on his side. It had been over two hours since he had last had any of the blood and he was suffering terrible withdrawal pain. The couple of mugs that he’d had since he was put in the glass cell hadn’t had any other drugs added. His voice had returned although it sounded hoarse now from screaming abuse in protest at being held captive. Nemol had told him that if he didn’t quiet down that he wouldn’t get any blood. He hadn’t and now he was regretting it. His body felt like it was being eaten from the inside out. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably and had been for hours. He needed that blood.

Through his haze of pain Spike became aware of Nemol standing outside the cell. Spike nearly wept with relief when he saw that he was holding the beloved mug of blood in his hands this time.

“Are you going to behave now?” asked Nemol.

“Yes,” gasped Spike, struggling to his knees, “Please give it to me.”

“So you want this then?” smirked Nemol.

“Yes, please, I need it.” He crawled to the front of the cell and put his still cuffed hands against the glass.

“Wouldn’t you rather that I let you go?”

Spike shook his head; the only thing that he wanted was that mug.

“I could take you back to the Old Hyperion. They’ll all be waiting for you.”

Spike frowned. He wanted to go back to be with them. Then his body was wracked by another bolt of pain.

“Will they have the blood?” he whispered.

“No.”

“I want to stay here then,” whimpered Spike, “Please, can I have it if I stay here?”

Nemol laughed heartily. He’d gotten Spike exactly where he needed him to be.

“Of course you can, Spike.”

He opened the door. Spike reached out with his hands.

“Not so fast.”

Nemol dipped a finger into the blood and offered it to Spike. He looked at him with delight and licked it off.

“Now kiss my feet.” Spike duly obliged, kissing each foot repeatedly. “That’s enough.”

Spike sat on his haunches and looked up at the mug eagerly.

“Here you are. This will make you feel better.”

Spike drained its contents as fast as he could before giving the mug back to Nemol, who closed the door and walked away chuckling. Spike sighed with pleasure as the pain began to subside. As it did he was hit by the knowledge that he’d been offered the chance to leave. He knew that his captor would never have allowed it but the fact that he had refused the offer drove him to despair. All he’d thought about was the blood. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed. He hoped that Buffy and Angel would come for him soon because he knew that as soon as he began to crave the blood again that any thought of escape would disappear.

000000000

Brad woke with a start, knowing that he’d slept too long, that Moira should have called him for watch. He glanced at Laura sleeping beside him and eased carefully off the bed. He crept out of the room and down the corridor. The place seemed deathly quiet. He went cautiously down the stairs and into the foyer.

“Moira? Are you here?” His voice just echoed back to him.

He jogged through the rooms downstairs. He stopped short when he saw the blood on the floor in Angel’s office.

“Oh, Christ!”

He raced back up stairs to check the room that Moira was using. In his panic he opened the wrong door. He slid to a halt as he saw the figures of Angel and Moira on the bed. Angel was sitting with his arm around Moira, who had her head on his shoulder. Both were asleep.

“Moira! Angel!” he shouted, making both startle awake.

Angel was on his feet in the blink of an eye.

“Brad, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“There’s blood downstairs…I thought it was Moira’s…Where’s Buffy?” He glanced around wildly.

Angel approached him, “It’s okay, Brad, she’s safe.”

“But the blood…?” He glared at Moira. “You’re supposed to be keeping watch, not freaking making out. Why didn’t you wake me? What if we missed the call about Spike’s ransom? I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’m calling the cops. This has gone on long enough.”

He turned and went for the door. In an instant Angel had hold of his arm.

“Wait.”

“Get off me!” roared Brad, spinning around and punching Angel in the face with all of his might.

Angel staggered back and Brad yelped and held his hand, shaking it gently.

“Don’t fucking try to stop me again,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“I can’t let you call the cops,” said Angel.

“Well I’m gonna,” growled Brad.

Moira stepped between them, putting a hand on each chest.

“Just settle down, the both of you.” She looked at Brad. “You can’t call the police, Brad.”

Brad angrily stepped back a couple of paces. “Why are you agreeing with him, Moira? You want to get into his bed?”

Moira slapped his face. He stared at her, his cheek stinging.

“I’m sorry, that was out of line,” he muttered.

“Yeah, it was,” said Angel.

“I don’t need your opinion. I’m going to call the cops unless you give me one good reason not to.”

Moira and Angel exchanged a look that made Brad feel even angrier.

“Show him, Angel. You know it’s the only way,” said Moira.

“Brad, just wake Laura, leave here and forget all about this,” said Angel.

“Not gonna happen. I like Spike. I’m not just walking away from him. What the hell is going on? Moira?”

He glanced at her, unable to read her expression. He looked back at Angel.

“What the f…?” He staggered backwards, hit the wall and almost fell.

Angel shook his features back to human and smiled at him. “I think you’re going to have to sit down when you hear what I’m going to say. You’d better get Laura, it’ll save me having to say it all again.”

Brad was staring at him open mouthed.

“Do it again,” he said quietly.

Angel slid into his game face and for good measure bared his fangs and growled.

“Fucking hell,” breathed Brad. He glanced at Moira. “Did you know?”

She shook her head. “Not until this morning.”

Brad looked back at Angel. “I’ve seen enough movies. So you’re a vampire?”

Angel grinned and nodded.

“Fucking hell.”

“Exactly,” said Angel with a chuckle, “Go and get Laura. There’s quite a story for you to hear.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Two

Viewing Day

Nemol timed the visit when he needed to prepare Spike to the perfect moment. The withdrawal pains were just starting but not yet debilitating him.

“Hello Spike,” he said, tapping the glass.

Spike lifted his head from his knees and regarded him balefully.

“You know that if you disobey me that I shall take away the blood, don’t you?”

Spike nodded, “Yes.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Whatever you want me to do,” said Spike, hating himself for it, but his body was starting to tremble with craving for the blood and he just couldn’t bear the pain that followed it. He needed that blood more desperately than he’d ever needed it as a vampire.

“And to think that you were once the ‘Big Bad’,” sneered Nemol.

Spike cringed inwardly but his eyes never left the mug of ambrosia that Nemol was holding. Nemol walked away and chuckled as he heard Spike’s faint whimper. He put the mug down on a ledge on the wall opposite Spike’s cell. Then he came back and opened the door.

“Go and stand between those two posts,” ordered Nemol, indicating two ornately decorated posts in the centre of the room.

Spike stood up and walked to the posts, his gaze going from Nemol to the mug. The trembling was getting a little worse. Nemol pushed Spike’s feet further apart with his own and then knelt down and chained Spike’s ankles securely to the floor. He unlocked the shackles on Spike’s wrists and in turn he pulled his arms out and fastened his wrists to the posts, so that his arms were outstretched at shoulder height.

Spike was now really starting to shake, “Please, can I have it now? I did what you wanted. Please?” he begged, aware of nothing but the need for the fix of Yenomi blood.

Nemol walked over and got the mug, holding it to Spike’s mouth for him to drink. Spike’s eyes closed in ecstasy as the blood soothed the tremors. He then looked startled as he realised he was now spread eagled in the centre of the room.

Nemol laughed, “Moved you a little whilst you were elsewhere.” He lightly slapped Spike’s face. “Wanted you aware of the next part.”

He went over to the far side of the room and pulled a small yellow skinned demon out of a box near the wall. It wriggled ineffectually in his strong grip.

“Can you see this little fella’s lovely collar?” he asked, holding the hapless creature up for Spike’s inspection.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“It’s going to be yours soon.”

Spike looked at him, puzzled.

“It’s a ‘special’ collar, Spike. Let’s see what happens when the creature wearing it goes out of this room, shall we?”

The demon obviously knew what was going to happen as it began to shriek, so high pitched that it hurt Spike’s ears. Nemol casually tossed the demon through the room’s open door. As soon as it passed the threshold, its head exploded with a sickeningly wet sound and its body lay twitching on the floor. Spike thought that he was going to throw up.

Nemol went over and picked up the collar, kicking the body out of sight. He pulled a tool out of his pocket and opened it before sluicing it under the some water to remove the gore. He walked towards Spike who leaned back as far as he could, which was only a couple of inches. The collar snapped shut around his neck. It was uncomfortably tight. Nemol held up the small tool he’d used to unlock it.

“Unless this is touching the collar as you walk through the door that is what will happen to you. Understand? Your new owner will be given it. If we get interrupted before the auction is complete I will turn you lose and put a mug of Yenomi blood in the corridor. How long do you think it will be before you can’t help but go to get it?”

Spike looked at him in horror. He knew that once the tremors began he’d go for it regardless of the consequences.

“Right, well I’d better get you looking your best. We’ve got the first viewings soon. They’ll all get two minutes to inspect you and declare their intended use for you.”

“Just fuck off,” said Spike wearily.

Nemol laughed. “If I’d stated that they could have five minutes it would most probably have been ‘fuck you’. But I didn’t want to run the risk of them injuring you before the sale.”

Spike visibly paled.

Nemol walked to a cupboard and took out a large bottle of oil. He poured some onto his hands and then rubbed them all over Spike’s body and hair until he was slick and shiny.

“God, I could almost take you myself,” sneered Nemol as he stood back to admire his handiwork. “There’s only one thing that’s spoiling it.”

He put the cap on the bottle and returned it to the cupboard. He put on a pair of latex gloves and picked up a small jar made of black glass and approached Spike again.

“Got to be careful with this stuff, its effects last for twenty-four hours and …well, let’s just say it could be a problem in polite company.”

He dipped his fingers into the pot, smearing the oil over both gloves before reaching out to Spike. Spike wasn’t surprised what part of him got the attention; it was the only part not already coated with oil. He tensed as Nemol caressed his genitals and then hissed as the oil began to have an effect, his body responding unbidden. It was a fabulous sensation but the thought of twenty-four hours without release made Spike shudder.

“Yes, I’ve heard that the first few minutes or so are quite enjoyable,” chuckled Nemol. This was always one of his favourite parts of the pre-sale preparation. “But twenty-four hours…? I’m not so sure. You won’t be able to ejaculate before then, even if a prospective buyer plays with you a little.”

To Spike’s revulsion, Nemol smeared a little of the oil around his anus.

“Just in case,” Nemol laughed, slapping Spike’s bare ass as he tensed at his touch.

“You sick bastard,” growled Spike.

“Oh yes, that reminds me,” said Nemol conversationally.

He walked back to the cupboard, putting the small jar away and carefully discarding the gloves. He picked up the last piece of equipment that he needed so that Spike was ready for viewing.

When Spike saw him carrying the gag he glared at him, “Why don’t you just give me some more of that stuff that made me mute?”

Nemol looked at him coldly, “Because some clients will want to hear you scream.”

Before Spike could react Nemol thrust the leather contraption into his mouth, fastening it tightly at the back of his head.

00000000

By the time that Angel had told Brad and Laura just about everything that he could think of, including Spike being a re-humanised vampire, Buffy had joined them. There was a short silence when Angel finished speaking.

“Well I guess I won’t be writing those papers for the medical journals after all,” said Brad, prompting them all to laugh a little.

“So this could be all kinds of bad for Spike then?” asked Brad, his mind still reeling from the facts that he’d been told.

“Yes, we don’t even know where to start looking,” replied Angel.

“I’ve been in touch with Willow,” said Buffy. She turned to look at the others, “She’s a witch…”

“’Course she is,” muttered Brad dryly.

Buffy giggled despite her worry. “Anyway, I asked her to do a locator spell on him but it wouldn’t take. The place where he is must be cloaked somehow. Giles is getting one of the seers at the coven in Devon to try to get a handle on where there’s a focus of the magics involved with cloaking. But until then, we have nothing.”

Disheartened they all went down to the apartment for breakfast. It was the only part of the hotel that had food in it and no one wanted to go out to find a diner. Angel didn’t join them, figuring that they’d all had enough to take in without watching him drinking blood as they ate. Instead he went into his office and sat brooding about the situation.

“Spike, where the hell are you? Are you still okay?” he muttered.

000000000

After two hours and at least fifty prospective bidders, Spike was beyond humiliated. He’d been prodded and poked in just about every part of his body. He’d had his erection manhandled by each and every bloody one of them, all carefully wearing gloves lest some of the oil get on them. He didn’t even want to think where their well-lubed fingers had also quested. He almost longed for Nemol to forget the blood. The all-consuming pain of withdrawal would be easier to take than this. But no, Nemol made sure that he got it just as the tremors started, just when he couldn’t refuse it.

Each viewer had to tell Nemol what he, she, or it, intended to use Spike for and what, if any, procedures did they want performed on him before transportation should they place the final bid. This was because all customisations were charged extra.

So far most of them wanted to use him as a sex slave of some sort, hence the much groping of his parts. His reputation of being argumentative must have preceded him because most called for the removal of his tongue. Some wanted castration as he was to be used as a vessel for their own pleasure and they didn’t want him sexually capable of any of his own. To start with their words struck fear into Spike’s heart but as more and more said the same thing he began to find it all rather amusing.

“Christ, does no one have anything bleedin’ original to do to a soddin’ slave?” he thought a touch hysterically.

He was getting to the end of his endurance mentally. Frankly he was starting to look forward to his mind just snapping. He didn’t want to be aware of anything any longer. He’d started to zone out, not taking much notice of the steady parade of creatures into the room. Nemol’s sales pitch was the same for every viewer. He suddenly became aware of a demon as it walked in. Spike’s wandering mind found focus. It was a Polgara and an old one. No doubt this was the one that had ordered the hit. As it walked towards Spike it unsheathed its bone skewer weapon.

“You can’t harm him before you buy him,” warned Nemol.

The demon gave Nemol a stony stare. “It stands again? I was told that it was crippled.”

“I’m not a bleedin’ it,” said Spike furiously, not that he was understood as he was still gagged. His jaws ached and saliva dribbled down his chin as the gag prevented him from being able to swallow properly.

“He was, but I speeded up his already enhanced healing so that he would attract more buyers. Is there a problem with that?” asked Nemol.

The Polgara touched Spike’s left leg just above the knee. “When I buy him, I want this leg cut off here.” He dug the sharp edge of the bone skewer into Spike’s flesh, leaving a small cut.

“No need to mark the merchandise,” reminded Nemol.

“It must be conscious when you do it and I want to watch.”

“Sure thing, not a problem,” said Nemol, noting it down.

“It must be castrated.”

“Yep, anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” thought Spike, “Least it’s something different though, well, apart from the castration thing anyway.”

“That will be all before transportation. The remainder will be done once it’s back in my dimension. You said it has enhanced healing?” said the Polgara.

“It does, not as quick as when he was a vampire but a lot quicker than a normal human being,” replied Nemol.

“That’s good. It will last longer on display then.”

The Polgara stepped close to Spike and grabbed his face, forcing their eyes to meet.

“You shall be mine, murderer.” Its fetid breath made Spike heave. Then it walked away.

0000000000

Buffy, Angel and the others had spent a frustrating day still with no news of Spike forthcoming. So far the seer had had no luck in tracing possible places where he could be held. Buffy and Brad ended up roaming the streets together simply because neither could bear to stay in the hotel doing nothing.

Laura had been very quiet since the revelation of Angel’s vampirism and so Angel left the two women alone to allow Moira to find out how Laura was doing. It turned out that Laura had a little revelation of her own. She had precognitive dreams. She hadn’t told Brad of them fearing that he might think that she was a flake. Since being a young child Laura had had dreams of events that had yet to occur. The strongest one she’d ever had was when her mom was going to fly to visit her grandmother. Two nights before she was due to leave Laura had had a dream that the plane would crash. She was so distressed by it that her mom put off her trip and sure enough the plane had crash-landed with several fatalities. Ever since then Laura trusted what she dreamt.

Laura had been very quiet because she’d dreamed of Spike. Like most of her dreams it was fairly vague but it told her that when they thought that they’d got Spike safe – he wouldn’t be. It was something to do with a piece of metal of some kind. She decided to tell Moira of the dream since no way could it be weirder than being told that someone was an actual vampire and that someone else used to be!

Together, they went to find Angel, who was moping in the foyer feeling pretty useless.

“So you think that we’re going to find him and that he’s okay?” Angel asked Laura after she’d told him.

“I think so. I got no impression of him being harmed up to being found but the danger won’t be over when you think it is,” said Laura, “I’m sorry it’s so vague.”

“Hey,” said Angel, “That’s not vague at all. It’s a real help, Laura. It means that we’re going to find him.”

“But we still have no clue as to where he is,” said Moira in frustration.

A loud banging at the door startled all three. A short, stout warty figure was knocking frantically on it.

“Angel! Are you there? Let me in,” it shouted in a gravely voice.

“Who or what is that?” asked Moira, beginning to realise that Angel being a vampire was only the tip of the iceberg of the world she was now aware of.

“It’s George,” said Angel as he went to unlock the door, “He’s a Ruoloc demon.”

Laura and Moira looked at each other and giggled.

“George?” mouthed Laura.

Moira shook her head as they tried to stifle their mirth. Such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary creature. Imagine a sort of humanoid toad and that was George.

“Hey George, come in,” said Angel as the little demon almost fell through the door in its haste.

“Angel, I know where Spike is. There isn’t much time,” gasped George.

“I’ll get some weapons,” growled Angel, his eyes flashing amber, “Where is he?”

“No! If you do than he’ll be killed for sure. I’ve got a plan.” George glanced at the two women who were now staring at him intently. “Can we go somewhere…er…less human?”

“It’s all right, George, they’re cool. So how much time do we have?”

George glanced at his top of the range Rolex on his chubby wrist. “Exactly one hour and twelve minutes, and you’re going to have to give me money and lots of it.”

Angel pulled out his cell and called Buffy. “Come back now. We’ve got a lead,” he said curtly, severing the connection without waiting for a reply.

“So what do we need to do?” he asked George.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sold!

It had been thirty minutes since Spike had been examined by a demon. He felt exhausted. His legs and arms were aching and his magically manipulated erection had gone beyond painful. His head lolled forwards wearily. He was brought back to being fully alert by a squeeze of his manhood by Nemol.

“Oi, no sleeping on the job. Got another customer to impress.”

Spike tried to glare at Nemol but just didn’t have the strength. He just wanted it to end.

“You’re cutting it fine - viewing is almost over,” said Nemol as the latest creature walked into the room.

The short demon was immaculately dressed and was obviously very proud of his Rolex wristwatch. He walked up to Spike and prodded him sharply in the stomach.

“Doesn’t look up to much. Looks half asleep,” he grumbled.

Spike’s eyes widened as he recognised the demon. Nemol noticed his reaction and eyed the creature suspiciously.

“How do you know the merchandise?”

“What? The little demon looked startled. “Doesn’t everybody know of William The Bloody? Well, before he sold out and went all soulful and now look at him – human.”

“He knows you, he recognised you,” persisted Nemol.

The demon chuckled heartily then held his hand out to Nemol, “My friends call me George because even I have trouble pronouncing my true name. Your specimen knows me because I enlisted the help of Angel and he to remove a rather persistent problem with another demon.”

Spike was staring at him, “Yeah, you git. We bleeding well saved your life and now you’re here.”

He tried to tell him exactly what he thought of him but could do no more than mumble because of the gag. Nemol ripped it from his mouth.

“I saved your life and now you’re here gawping at me, you bastard,” snarled Spike, straining to lean forward.

“I’m not gawping, Spike, I’m going to be buying you,” said George calmly. He turned to Nemol, “Can we gag him again please? He’ll only interrupt us.”

“George, how can y…” Spike got no further as Nemol forced the gag back into his mouth.

“Thank you,” said George.

“So I take it that the top of your list for customisations will be tongue removal?” asked Nemol, pen poised.

“No,” replied George, “I intend to do any alterations myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to have a plaything.”

Nemol casually slapped Spike’s face as he continued to try to shout around the gag.

“I’ll need him securely tied for transportation and I’d appreciate the gag to stay where it is but other than that I need him intact.” He gestured at Spike’s genitalia. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” replied Nemol, passing him a latex glove.

George gripped Spike and stroked his hand up and down a couple of times. Spike closed his eyes and moaned. It was agony.

“Quite impressive.”

“I don’t want to hurry you but the auction must begin in ten minutes and I need to organise a few things first,” said Nemol.

“I understand. I’m sorry that I arrived so late. I would have preferred to have seen him earlier in the day when he wasn’t looking quite so worn out. I do have your word that he is healthy?” said George, continuing as Nemol nodded, “Good. I was in my home dimension and came as soon as I heard. I’m so pleased that I made it.”

He shook Nemol’s hand again and left the room. Spike was glad to see the back of him. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Hell, he’d been out for drinks with him a few times. He was distracted from his distressing thoughts by the now familiar trembling as his body began to feel the Yenomi blood’s effects waning. His eyes followed as Nemol approached with the mug. He removed the gag and held the mug to Spike’s lips. He then took it away with a grin.

“Let me have it, you bleedin’ git,” said Spike as the trembling increased.

Nemol pulled it further away. “You forgot to say please.”

Spike glared at him, “Let me have it, please…I’m sorry…please.” He hated himself for saying it but he couldn’t help it. He craved the contents of that mug. “Will…will…whoever buys me have some of it?” he asked.

“Yes, don’t worry Spike, a supply is always provided to the purchaser.” He held the mug up so Spike could drink it. “Whether they give it to you or not is a different matter.” He chuckled at the look on Spike’s face. “They probably will. It’s a good base for the controlling drugs that are used on slaves. I’ll be back to prepare you as per your new owner’s specifications. Enjoy feeling whole; it won’t last. Shame to lose these though.” He caressed Spike’s balls. “Especially since your erection will last for a time yet, regardless.”

Spike groaned at the sensations, unable to speak. Nemol had been gone for several minutes before Spike became aware of it.

000000000

Nemol was fifteen minutes late with Spike’s next dose of the blood. He laughed as he saw Spike’s uncontrollably shaking body spread-eagled between the posts.

“Well, well,” he mused, “Who’d’ve thought that the little fella could have that sort of cash?”

He was disappointed that all the alterations were going to be done by Spike’s owner. He took the gag out of Spike’s mouth and saw that the strap was almost bitten through.

“Hmm, that won’t hold for the whole journey. I’d better keep you quiet another way.” He turned and walked away, prompting Spike to start pleading for the blood. “Oh for God’s sake, shut up! Or I’ll cut your goddamn tongue out myself and tell him that you bit it off.”

Spike forced himself to keep quiet, not wanting to be left even longer without his fix, but it was hard. Nemol added a brownish powder to the blood, gave it a stir and then went to Spike again. But still he didn’t give it to him. “Better get you all tied up and ready to go. He’ll be here soon.”

I’m here now,” said George, walking into the room, “Put this cream on him, it will reverse the effect on…” He gestured to Spike’s erection. “I don’t need to be aware of that the whole way home. And put these on him afterwards.”

The little demon threw Nemol a pair of black jeans. He stared at Spike’s quivering body. “What’s wrong with him? I thought that you said he was healthy?”

“He is, he just needs some blood of the Yenomi. He’ll have it just as soon as I secure him.”

“I take it that a supply will be given to me?”

“Yes of course. Now if you’ll please leave me to do my work. He’ll be ready shortly,” said Nemol a little impatiently.

George stared hard at Spike but all Spike could think about was the mug and the contents he needed so badly. The demon left reluctantly. If Spike had been more aware of what was happening he would have noticed that the jeans were in fact his own.

Nemol put on a latex glove and smeared the cream on Spike’s genitals and he sighed with relief as he felt the pressure ease even though it was without climaxing. Nemol then unchained Spike from the posts and he collapsed onto the floor as his limbs refused to take his weight after being held outstretched for so long. Nemol pulled the jeans onto Spike, pushing his now flaccid penis into the tightly fitting jeans. Spike moaned, as it was still painful to the touch. He was then pushed onto his belly and his wrists and ankles were chained together near the small of his back. A chain attached to his collar was pulled tight and fastened to his ankles, forcing his head back. Nemol gave Spike a push and laughed as he rocked slightly backwards and forwards grinding his abused genitals into the floor. Finally he offered the mug to Spike’s lips, although he was shaking so badly by now that he could barely drink it - some of it dribbled down his chin.

Nemol stood up. His work was done. All he had to do now was collect the cash and leave LA in search of his next bounty.

“Don’t leave me…” gasped Spike.

“What? You want me to stay? Perhaps sample the goods now that you’re sold?” laughed Nemol.

“Like this,” Spike finished, “the pain…”

Nemol, in a rare moment of compassion, walked over and pushed Spike so that he was lying on his side.

“Been nice selling you, Spike. You’ve made me a very rich man.”

Spike tried to reply but he was too out of breath from the pain. He glanced up at Nemol as his tongue began to feel strange and he knew that he’d been given the drug to mute him and make him obedient.

Nemol saw the realisation that he’d been drugged hit Spike, “Thought I’d give you that as a little thank you to your owner. Goodbye, Spike.” He walked out of the room laughing.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Four

Safe?

“This had better work,” said Buffy for about the tenth time as she waited with Angel and Brad in the alley behind the building where Spike was being held. “Why can’t we just go in and kill them all?”

Brad’s eyes widened a bit at that, still having trouble getting his head around the fact that the building was full of demons and that he was waiting with a vampire and a vampire slayer! He looked down at the axe in his hand. Would he be able to use it if he had to? Perhaps they’d been right? Perhaps he should have stayed at the hotel with Moira and Laura?

Angel sighed for about the tenth time, “Because Spike will be killed if anything happens before the auction is over. Look, George will be out as soon as he can and then we’ll go in.”

Buffy muttered under her breath but stayed where she was. They all moved further back into the shadows as a door swung open and all manner of demons strolled out.

“Christ,” murmured Brad as he saw the strange looking creatures calmly walk away, some grumbling about missing out on the purchase.

A few minutes later and George’s warty face peered around the door. Angel moved forwards so that he could see him and the demon beckoned them to come nearer.

“I just have to pay Nemol and then I can take Spike away.” He glanced up at Buffy, not quite meeting her eye. “He’ll be tied up, I’m afraid. Nemol would have been too suspicious if I hadn’t wanted it.” He hoped that the slayer would realise that it wasn’t his fault. The anger vibe she was giving off was making his warts hurt.

“It’s okay, George,” said Buffy, reassuring the little demon, “Without you we would never have found him in time or been able to buy him from Nemol. Not that he’ll enjoy the money for long,” she added coldly.

“This is the only exit, so unless he opens a portal, which I doubt, he’ll have to come out this door. So you will be able to catch him as he leaves.”

“No way, George, I’m coming with you. I won’t let Nemol see me. I have to get to Spike as soon as I can.”

“You can’t, Slayer. This place is full of wards. If you step inside they’ll alert Nemol and Spike will be killed. Once Nemol has left the building it will be safe for you to come in but not before.”

Buffy snarled in frustration. “Okay.”

George walked back to the door and Angel began to follow him. Buffy gripped his arm, “Where are you going? He’ll be killed.”

“I can go in, Buffy. Demon, remember?” Angel vamped up his face and couldn’t resist winking at Brad as he walked inside.

“Still can’t get used to seeing that,” muttered Brad.

"I'll come and find you once Nemol is out of the way. Just stay with Spike and keep him safe until I do," called Buffy.

Buffy and Brad resigned themselves to waiting at the door, both of them impatiently tapping a foot.

000000000

Angel walked silently behind George, towering over the diminutive beast. Eventually George stopped at a door.

“This is where I am meeting Nemol,” he whispered, “I will pay him and then join you with Spike. The viewing room is down that way,” He pointed further down the corridor. “It’s the third or fourth door on the left.”

“I’ll find him,” replied Angel quietly, “Just make sure that you don’t screw up.” He bared his fangs to make George understand how serious he was.

“I won’t. Look, I came to you, remember? I’ll never forget Spike saving my life and now it’s my turn to save his.”

Angel put a hand gently on George’s shoulder and nodded. He’d never really doubted his integrity. He walked down the corridor as George went in to see Nemol.

000000000

“Ah, George. I take it that you have the cash? I have a contact number for the under-bidder should you renege on the deal,” said Nemol as soon as he saw him.

“It’s all here,” said George, struggling to lift the large briefcase onto the desk. He tried not to shudder at the thought of the Polgara eagerly hoping that he wouldn’t pay up and that he’d get Spike. “I take it that you have secured him as I requested?”

“Yes I have and I’ve thrown in a little extra free of charge instead of the gag. I’m sure you’ll approve.”

George forced himself to speak, “Thank you.” He hoped his voice sounded as casual as he was trying to make it. His two hearts were beating so fast he thought he’d have at least one heart attack before the night was out. “So can I go and get my property now?”

Nemol looked up and smiled, “As soon as I count this. Take a seat George, it could take a while.”

George hitched himself up on a seat opposite Nemol’s desk, his feet dangling in the air.

000000000

Angel opened the doors on the left cautiously as he went down the corridor. He found Spike behind the fourth one.

“Christ! Spike!” he exclaimed as he saw the bound figure of Spike lying on the floor. He ran over and knelt beside him.

Spike looked up at him blearily, “Angel,” he croaked.

“Are you hurt?” asked Angel, “I’ll get you out of these chains.”

Spike shook his head, “’kay,” he mumbled. “Or I will be now.”

His tongue was starting to feel strange again and he knew that soon he would be unable to speak at all. With a supreme effort his managed to say one more word.

“Collar…”

“Yes, it’s all right, Spike. I’ll get that thing off you too,” reassured Angel.

Spike tried to tell him, tried to explain about what the collar could do but he no longer could get the words out, just unintelligible noises. He closed his eyes in frustration.

“Hey Spike, look at me. Concentrate, stay awake,” urged Angel, concerned by Spike’s incoherence.

Spike immediately reopened his eyes and stared at Angel. Angel tried to break the chains holding Spike but couldn’t. They must have been forged in another dimension. He bit back a bellow of rage.

“Come on, George,” he muttered, glancing at the door. “I’m sorry Spike, but I can’t break them. George will be here soon and he’ll have the key.”

Spike stared at Angel. It was beginning to freak him out a little.

000000000

Finally, Nemol put the last bank note down.

“That’s all in order,” he said, smiling a smile that George wanted to hit with a brick.

“So can I have the keys to his shackles and the Yenomi blood that you promised? I have a difficult journey ahead and I want to get going.”

“You’re very impatient,” complained Nemol. He usually enjoyed a drink or three with his client at their expense of course.

“I’m sorry,” replied George, “But I do need to get back to my home dimension as soon as possible.”

“Okay, okay,” sighed Nemol.

He picked up a box containing bags of the blood and a bunch of keys from a drawer in his desk. He put the keys in his pocket.

“Come on then. I’ll take you to him.”

George would have rather gone alone but one look at the box and he knew that his short little arms wouldn’t be able to carry it.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping that Angel would be able to get out of sight. If Nemol was killed inside the building who knew what might happen.

The small demon walked alongside Nemol to the fourth door on the left. Nemol put the box of blood down and opened the door. It revealed Spike securely bound, lying on his side with his eyes wide and staring towards the door.

“Here he is, I hope you enjoy him for many months. It was a shame that I didn’t get to customise him for you but I can understand why you would want to do it yourself. Very satisfying, eh?” Nemol grinned.

George felt a bit sick but forced a smile in return, “Exactly.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Are you going to open a portal? This room does allow it without any consequences.”

“Yes, that’s how I’ll transport him,” George lied. He held out his hand and shook Nemol’s; “It’s been good doing business with you.”

Nemol smiled again, nodded and walked away. George stepped into the room.

“Angel?” he whispered.

The door moved slightly and Angel stepped out from behind it.

“I’m here. He’s done something to Spike. He can’t talk.”

George looked at Spike whose body was beginning to tremble.

“It will be temporary. I had hoped to avoid it by asking that he be gagged but Nemol threw it in for free.” He held out the keys that Nemol had given him before he left. “Let’s get him untied.”

Angel took the keys and unlocked the chains holding Spike. The only thing that they didn’t have a key for was the collar. But no matter, they could cut that off later. Spike muttered unintelligible words as his chains fell free. The words couldn’t be understood but the meaning was clear – relief. He rubbed his hands over his limbs and pushed himself up until he was sitting.

“Why is he staring at you like that?” asked George. Spike couldn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off Angel.

“I’m not sure. I guess he’s just pleased to see me.”

Spike was looking at Angel because he’d told him to and Nemol had used the drug that made him both mute and obedient. His mind was in turmoil as his trembling and the need for Yenomi blood increased. Soon the need for blood would overpower his wish to obey. He tried to resist looking for the blood, to behave properly, but he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up.

00000000

Nemol walked to the exit door. If George wouldn’t drink with him then he’d go to a demon bar for a few just as soon as he’d deposited his cash in a safe place. He put his hand in to his pocket and his finger touched something metal. Curious, he pulled it out; it was the tool for the collar. He hesitated; it must have fallen off the bunch of keys he’d given to George. But it wouldn’t be needed since he was being taken through a portal. It was only activated by going out of that particular threshold physically.

“No matter.” He smiled to himself as he pushed open the door to the alley. He felt the static in the air as the wards were deactivated, then he felt pain as a tiny fist slammed into his face. He fell to the ground, dropping the briefcase and the piece of metal.

Brad couldn’t believe how quickly Buffy had moved or how strong she was. He ran forward and picked up the case full of cash.

“You bastard, I’m going to enjoy killing you for what you did to Spike,” snarled Buffy, her face contorted with rage.

“Too late,” smirked Nemol, not quite realising how serious his situation was, “His owner will have taken him out of this dimension by now. You’ll never find him.”

Buffy kicked him in the ribs; he slammed into the wall opposite with a sickening crunch.

“We bought him, you idiot. He’ll be out here with us just as soon as I kill you. But I need you to suffer first.”

She kicked him between the legs hoping that since he was half human that he’d be as vulnerable there as a man. She smiled when he screamed in pain clutching himself.

“He’s dead,” Nemol managed to gasp.

Buffy grabbed him, hauled him to his feet and punched him again, sending him flying back across the alley. As Buffy moved in for the kill Brad’s blood ran cold as he remembered Laura’s dream vision. ‘Just when we think Spike is safe – he’s not.’

“Christ! He must have booby trapped something!”

He raced into the building, dropping the briefcase just inside the door. He flung open every door that he passed.

00000000

Spike was beginning to lose the battle between obedience and looking for the blood.

“Why aren’t they giving me any? George bought me and Nemol promised that he’d give my owner some.”

Spike’s mind could no longer work out why Angel was there at all, it was consumed by the need for blood. The tremors went up another notch, as did the pain in his gut.

“What’s wrong with him, George?” asked Angel.

He wanted to get Spike out of this place and was regretting agreeing to wait until Buffy came before they left. But Buffy hadn’t wanted him moved until Nemol was dead. She was certain that Nemol was the key to the danger that Laura foreseen.

“He must be nearly due some Yenomi blood,” replied George, “It’s highly addictive. That’s what’s in the box Nemol gave me.”

They were both startled when Spike suddenly got to his feet.

“My God, Spike. You can stand,” said Angel

Spike glanced at him and them walked a couple of steps towards the door.

“He’s walking,” gasped Angel looking at George who shrugged.

“I don’t know what he’s done. I didn’t really listen to the sales pitch.”

Spike saw the box that he’d heard George say contained the blood. It was just outside of the door. He took a couple more steps forwards then he backed up clawing at his collar. He repeated this a couple of times before Angel put a hand on his arm.

“Hey Spike, just calm down a bit, okay? We’ll get you home soon.”

Spike looked at him and clawed at his collar again, his fingernails drawing blood.

“You’re hurting yourself,” said Angel, taking hold of his hands.

Spike calmed down for a moment. He pointed to the blood but Angel thought that he wanted to leave.

“Soon, it will be soon,” he said.

Spike doubled over as a spasm of pain ripped through his guts. Spike knew it wasn’t going to be soon enough.

“I think we’re going to have to give him some blood, Angel. This isn’t the time to try to wean him off it,” said George, “I’ll get some.”

George waddled to the doorway and opened the box. He’d just lifted a bag out when Spike punched Angel and dived for the blood.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Five

Where’s The Key?

Brad saw the warty little demon just in front of him and with an extra burst of speed that he didn’t know he possessed, pushed him out of the way and ran in through the doorway. With a bone shaking crash he ran headlong into Spike who, at the same instant, had dived for the door. The two of them fell dazed to the floor. Spike recovered first and crawled towards the door.

“Stop him! Pin him down! Nemol’s done something. Remember Laura’s warning,” Brad yelled at Angel.

Angel grabbed hold of Spike, who struggled frantically until he was overcome by another spasm.

“The cell,” gasped Brad, “Put him in there.”

Angel dragged Spike to the glass walled cell and locked the door once he was inside. As soon as it closed Spike feebly banged his fists against it, his body wracked with more pain.

George walked towards the cell holding a bag of blood. “He needs this, Angel.”

“How can we be sure that it’s not poisoned?” asked Brad as he staggered to his feet.

Angel glanced around the room, noticing the mug that Nemol had used.

“Pour some in there and I’ll take a sniff. I’ll be able to tell if it’s been doctored.”

George carefully opened the bag and poured its contents into the mug. Angel vamped up and inhaled deeply.

“No, it’s pure. It hasn’t even been cut with other blood. No wonder Spike’s in such a mess.”

The three of them glanced back towards Spike who was tapping pitifully at the glass.

“Okay, here goes,” said Angel, opening the door and offering the mug to Spike.

Spike snatched it and managed, despite shaking violently, to drink most of it in just a couple of large gulps. He closed his eyes and sighed as the blood hit its mark, taking away the pain and the tremors.

Just as he put the mug down Buffy ran into the room, her blouse covered with gore. No one commented on it. She put the briefcase that she was carrying on the floor.

“Why is he still in there?” she snapped as she saw Spike lying on the floor of the cell.

“We were afraid that Nemol had set a trap or poisoned the blood that he’s addicted to,” explained Brad.

“Well, Nemol’s dead so let’s get him out of here. Angel, do you think you’ll be able to carry him?”

“I won’t need to, Buffy. I don’t know what happened to him but he can walk again.”

“What?” She looked at Spike.

His mind had cleared as the cravings were appeased and he stood up. His eyes never left her face and as he smiled at her, tears fell slowly from them.

Buffy went to him, putting her arms around him. He clung to her, unable to believe that she was there, that he was safe.

“Oh, Spike, thank God.” She wept with relief as she held him.

Spike tried to tell her that he loved her but his words couldn’t be understood. Buffy glanced back at the others fearfully. Why couldn’t he talk? George spoke before she could ask.

“Nemol gave him something; it’s temporary. Don’t worry, it will wear off.”

“Yeah, and then we’ll all be wishing that it hadn’t,” joked Angel.

Buffy took her arms from around Spike and held one of his hands in hers.

“We’re getting out of here – now.” She cuffed Angel on the arm as she and Spike walked past him.

Brad was leaning on the doorframe, not wanting to intrude on the reunion. As Spike walked towards him he noticed the blood dripping from the scratches on his neck.

“What happened to his neck?” he asked. They were obviously fresh wounds.

“When he was craving the blood he tried to claw the collar off,” explained Angel.

“Why haven’t you taken it off?” asked Brad as he stepped back to let Buffy and Spike pass. As he watched Spike he saw something flicker through his eyes. It looked like fear but he was just calmly walking beside Buffy.

“We haven’t got its key,” replied Angel.

Metal! The word seared Brad’s brain. He pushed Spike backwards with all his strength just before he stepped over the threshold.

“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Buffy as Spike’s hand was ripped from hers as he fell sprawling to the floor.

“Saving his life maybe?” replied Brad.

“What?” said Buffy.

All of them were staring at Brad but he concentrated on Spike’s face as he spoke.

“I think that collar is wired up to kill him. I don’t know how but I’m guessing that he shouldn’t leave this room. Remember what Laura said about him not being safe when we thought he was? Something to do with a piece of metal, she said. The collar is metal and so will be its key.”

“But why do you think that it’s the collar?” asked Angel.

“Because you said he’d tried to claw it off,” said Brad, eyes still on Spike who nodded slightly.

“But that was when he was getting withdrawal symptoms. He was going to walk out with Buffy without worrying at his collar again,” said Angel.

“Wait!” said George.

He went to the cupboard where Nemol had kept the supplies of drugs. He rummaged through the contents and then went and knelt next to Spike who was still on the ground.

“Spike, did Nemol put this in the blood? Can you remember?”

Spike shifted his gaze from Brad to George. He stared at the brown powder and then nodded.

“That explains it,” said George, standing up again. “This is what Nemol used to make Spike mute. Another side effect is total obedience if told to do something. Buffy, when you said that you were getting out of here, he had no choice but to do what you wanted.”

“Oh my God,” cried Buffy, aghast, “Spike, will something happen to you if you go out of the room?”

Spike nodded again.

They stood in silence for a moment when they realised how close they’d come to disaster.

“So Nemol meant to kill him and keep your money?” Brad asked George.

“I don’t think so, it wouldn’t be good for business. I told him that I was going to open a portal to my home dimension. We wouldn’t have technically left the room.”

“There must be a key here somewhere so that we can get the thing off him,” said Buffy as she helped Spike to his feet.

“When you grabbed Nemol, I’m sure that he dropped something. I was too busy grabbing the briefcase to see what it was, though,” said Brad.

“You guys go and see if you can find it. I’ll stay here with Spike,” said Buffy.

All three left without protest, knowing that she needed to be alone with Spike. She stood on tiptoe and cupped his face in her hands.

“I love you so much. You do know that, don’t you?” She gazed deeply into his blue eyes.

He nodded and pulled her into his arms, wishing that he could tell her that he loved her too. That he’d known that she’d come for him.

“You’re safe Spike, and Nemol is dead. He can’t hurt you again.” She felt Spike’s body tremble. “What is it? Do you need more blood?”

He shook his head and scowled. Buffy realised that he was shaking with rage. She knew him well enough to know that he would have wanted to kill Nemol himself.

“It’s okay, Spike, it wasn’t quick,” said Buffy coldly, “He suffered for what he did to you.”

Spike looked off, not wanting her to see the tears in his eyes. He nodded his head sharply, let go of her and walked across the room. He kicked angrily at the chains that had held him, wincing at the pain it caused in his bare feet but not caring. He kicked them again and again until Buffy put her hand on his arm.

“Hey, stop that, you’ll hurt yourself,” she said softly, “It’s over, Spike. You’ll never be chained again, I promise.”

He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. It was all too much. He knew that he’d stopped kicking the chains because she’d told him to and not because he wanted to. The drug was still controlling his reactions. Then he remembered that he’d always had trouble refusing anything that Buffy had wanted and started to laugh hysterically, closer at that point of breaking down mentally than ever before.

Buffy stared at him in horror, not knowing what to do. You couldn’t tell from the noises that he was making but it looked for all the world like he was laughing.

“Spike?”

He didn’t react to her voice. Unnerved by his behaviour she slapped his face. His head snapped up and he stared at her for a second until his face crumpled and he gave way to the tears that he’d fought for most of his captivity.

Buffy knelt beside him, hugging him tightly as tears of her own ran down her face, crooning soothing words as she stroked his bare back with her hands.

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Spike pulled himself together as he heard the others returning. He sniffed a few times and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. He didn’t meet Buffy’s eyes, ashamed at his display of weakness. She kissed his cheek before they both stood up.

Brad walking into the room first, triumphantly holding a strange piece of metal. “We found it! Well, Angel found it when he vamped up and used his special vampy senses. He smelled Nemol on it, for God’s sake! The cops could definitely use him to sniff out drugs.”

Even Spike managed a weak smile at the thought.

“Does this open the collar, Spike?” asked Brad.

Spike wasn’t totally sure but nodded anyway. He wanted the hateful thing off him as soon as he could. He shuddered at the memory of the fate of the demon that wore it before him.

Brad walked up to him and looked at the collar and then the key in his hand. “I’m not sure what to do with it,” he said.

“Let me have a look,” said Angel.

He studied carefully and then slotted the key into the collar and rotated it counterclockwise. With a click the collar snapped open. Angel pulled it off and threw it onto the floor in disgust.

Spike nodded his thanks and rubbed at the raw flesh where it had sat.

“Do you want to go home now?” asked Angel, careful to word it as a question and not an order whilst the obedience drug was still in his system.

Spike nodded and took Buffy’s hand in his. Angel walked in front, picking up the briefcase full of cash. Buffy and Spike were followed out by Brad and George. Buffy felt Spike’s grip on her hand tighten as they stepped through the doorway. She squeezed back to reassure him. She couldn’t help but stare at Spike as he walked beside her. He favoured his right leg a little but he was walking beside her without effort. She bit her lip to keep her tears at bay. She’d gotten him back and he was healed.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Six

Home

Spike was close to collapsing by the time they arrived back at the hotel. He was physically and mentally exhausted.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?” said Buffy as soon as they got in.

Spike nodded gratefully and let Buffy lead him to their apartment.

“We need to talk,” George said to Angel and Brad as the women came down the stairs to greet them. Angel had called them to let them know that Spike was safe.

“Laura, you were right. Nemol had put a collar on him that would probably have killed him, though we’re not exactly sure yet. But without your warning we might not have saved him,” said Angel, giving her a hug, “Thank you.”

Laura blushed and went to hug Brad when Angel let go of her. Brad kissed her hungrily. George averted his eyes with a sigh only to see Moira and Angel doing the same.

“Ahem!” he said loudly.

They all looked at him.

“We really do need to talk. Spike’s got some tough times ahead and you all need to know it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Moira.

“Nemol has been feeding him the blood of the Yenomi and it’s highly addictive, more so than any drug that you humans know. We won’t know how much Spike has had until he can speak again. But to make him so desperate that he was willing to die trying to get it, he must have had an awful lot. Normally a couple of hits a day will get you hooked in a week or so. To get Spike hooked so badly in so short a time means he must have been given it more frequently than that.”

The others stared at him in silence, so George continued.

“I’d suggest that you give it to him as often as he needs it for twenty-four hours so that he can settle in and have a bit of a respite. Then you’ll have to lengthen the periods in between doses and cut down on the amount in each dose. I have to warn you that he won’t like it and most likely will get violent when he realises what you’re doing. You’ll have to restrain him somehow.”

“He’s not going to be chained again,” said Buffy, walking into the foyer, “I promised him.”

George looked at her gravely, “Then that’s a promise that you will break. Those under the addiction of Yenomi blood will literally kill for it. They can’t help themselves.”

“Oh God,” said Buffy, “How much more does he have to go through?”

No one had the answer to that.

“Angel, I suggest that you put some of the blood in the apartment so that he can take it when the cravings come but put the rest under lock and key for when you begin to wean him off it.”

“I will, George,” said Angel, “And thanks for all your help. We couldn’t have done it without you. The coven in England came up blank.”

Little George puffed up with pride, “Least I could do after he saved my life.” He looked at Buffy. “Is it okay if I go to see him? Then I must leave.”

“Yeah, George, he’s pretty tired though. He was asleep before I pulled the covers over him. I’ll show you where he is,” said Buffy as she picked up several bags of blood.

They walked to the apartment and Buffy pointed to the bedroom door.

“Do you have a mug please?” asked George, “I’ll take some blood in with me. He’ll need to be able to get it as soon as the craving takes hold otherwise he’ll become violent.”

Buffy got a blue mug out of a cupboard in the kitchen but before she gave it to him she kissed George’s warty cheek and hugged him.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

George grinned as his warts tingled in the nicest way. “It’s all right,” he mumbled as he went into the bedroom.

“Just in time,” he thought as he saw Spike’s body shaking under the blankets.

“Spike?” he said quietly when he got to the bed.

Spike’s eyes fluttered open and George hated how his face lit up when he saw the mug in his hand. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes,” croaked Spike, nodding his head rapidly. His attention was so focussed on the mug that he hadn’t even realised that he had managed to speak.

George gave it to him and Spike swallowed its contents as quickly as he could, eyes closing as he finished.

“I need to talk to you, Spike. Is that okay?”

Spike opened his eyes again and sat up a bit straighter. He nodded.

“Do you know how often Nemol gave you the blood?”

“Hourly,” replied Spike, his voice still sounding a little odd.

George winced, “God, Nemol’s done a right number on him.” He didn’t envy Spike the next few days.

“Um…do you remember the cream that I asked Nemol to put on you to…er…reverse what he’d done?”

“Yeah,” said Spike, cringing as he remembered the little demon copping a feel. Then cringing even more when he recalled the countless others who’d done that and more to him.

“Well…um…” stuttered George.

Spike looked at him sharply, “What?”

“Er…well…you were in pain and I couldn’t leave you like that…”

“’Preciate that, mate, but I’m getting nervous now. What has that cream done to me?” asked Spike, leaning towards George.

“Um…well…its effects could last up to a week. I’m not really sure in a human.”

“Bloody hell,” said Spike.

“Sorry.”

“But it will wear off, won’t it?”

“Yes, I’m almost certain that it will,” replied George.

“What? Almost? What do you mean almost certain?” cried Spike.

“I mean, I am certain,” said George quickly, “Um…well…I’ve got to go…good luck.” He ran from the bedroom as quickly as his little stumpy legs could take him.

“Christ,” muttered Spike, putting a hand under the sheets and holding himself. “You’d better sodding wake back up,” he growled as he discovered that he couldn’t feel his hand on himself. Where the cream had been rubbed in was completely numb. “Oh shite.” He collapsed back in to the pillows and rolled onto his side. He closed his eyes, praying for oblivion. His prayers were answered as sleep claimed him.

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“Is he okay?” asked Buffy as soon as George reappeared.

“Yes, he’s going to sleep now I think,” replied George, “He can’t have gotten much rest while he was being held. Nemol fed him the blood every hour, Buffy, that’s way more often than it’s normally used. Withdrawal is going to be tough on him. He’s been seriously overdosed on the stuff.”

“He’ll get through it, won’t he George?”

“I’m sure that he will, but he won’t like what you’re doing one little bit. I wasn’t exaggerating that chaining him up will be a necessity.”

“I know,” sighed Buffy, “We’ll do whatever we have to do.”

The pair walked back to the others. George made his goodbyes, refused Angel’s offer of payment and left the hotel.

Moira watched him go, “Well, the first demon that I have met doesn’t seem so bad,” she said with a smile.

“They’re not all like George,” cautioned Angel, “Even other Ruolocs aren’t like George.”

“I’m going back to the apartment,” said Buffy, “I don’t want to leave him alone. Thanks for all that you have done for him.” She hugged each in turn and then walked back to be with Spike.

“I suppose I ought to get back to Rosedene,” said Moira.

“Yeah, we’d better go home too. Work’s going to seem pretty tame after this weekend,” said Brad, prompting a few chuckles.

“Um…Angel…would you like to come back to Rosedene with me? Spike will need to be formally released from the facility. I’ll have to keep the paperwork in order,” asked Moira, her eyes telling him that there was more on offer than paperwork.

“I’ll check with Buffy, but yes, that’s a good idea. Spike’s not going to be any problem while he’s getting all the Yenomi blood that he needs. I’ll follow you in my car.”

“You can travel with me if you want to and get a cab back in the morn…er…later,” said Moira, flushing as she realised she’d almost said what she’d hoped would happen.

Angel grinned at her, “My car has specially treated glass to prevent me from bursting into flames when I drive in daylight.”

“Oh,” said Moira. She knew that he wanted to stay over as much as she wanted him to.

“Come on, Laura, we’ll make a move,” said Brad. He nudged Moira as he walked past her, “Way to go.”

“Brad!” said Moira in embarrassment.

Laura giggled. “Is it okay if we come back to visit?”

“’Course it is, Laura,” said Angel, giving her a hug, “You’re all welcome here anytime.”

Once Brad and Laura had gone, Angel drew Moira into his arms and kissed her passionately.

“Are you sure about this? About us?” asked Angel.

Moira laughed a little nervously, “So long as you don’t tell me about all of your ex’s. I don’t think that I could take that much information.”

“Same for you. I don’t want to know who has held you before me,” said Angel seriously. He kissed her again. “I’ll just make sure that Buffy and Spike are okay and then we can go.”

Angel walked quietly into the apartment. When he didn’t see Buffy in the lounge he went to the bedroom. He tapped lightly on the half open door.

“Buff?” he said softly.

“Come in, Angel.”

He pushed the door fully open to find Buffy sitting on the bed, cradling Spike’s head in her lap, her hand stroking his shoulder. Spike’s arms were around her even as he slept.

“He was having a bad dream. He’s quieter if I hold him,” said Buffy with tears in her eyes.

She ran her hand over his still oiled hair. He’d been too done in to shower when they’d gotten home. She couldn’t wait to wash all trace of his experience from him.

“Um…will you be okay if I go to Rosedene with Moira? There’s paperwork to be done and Spike should be okay until we start reducing the dose tomorrow and…”

“And there’s Moira to spend time with,” interrupted Buffy with a grin. She’d never seen Angel babbling before. He must really like Moira.

If a vampire could blush then Angel would have.

“Yeah, but I can stay if you’re worried?”

“We’ll be okay. To be honest I just want to be alone with him, to hold him. I don’t want to ever let him go again. Go, have fun, I can call you if I need to.”

Angel hesitated as he heard Spike whimper in his sleep.

“Go, Angel. We’ll be okay.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“I will, I promise,” said Buffy, “Go on, go away, shoo!”

Angel smiled at her self-consciously and then walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

tbc

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Freedom?

Buffy sat holding Spike for hours, soothing him when he cried out in his sleep and quickly providing him with the Yenomi blood when the cravings kicked in every hour. She hadn’t realised that she’d fallen asleep until she was woken with a kiss.

“Morning, love,” said Spike as she opened her eyes.

She gazed into his bright blue eyes, pleased to see they looked less tortured than before he’d slept. His hair was stuck up in peaks where he’d towelled it dry after having a shower. He looked and smelled absolutely gorgeous. He was wearing his usual black jeans and a black Ghost of the Robot t-shirt that emphasised his physique. He’d lost a little weight through his ordeal but it suited him. His cheekbones were finely chiselled and his torso hard and lean.

Buffy ran a hand through his hair, now free of the oil that Nemol had plastered it with.

“You should have woken me. I could have joined you in the shower,” she said lasciviously, stretching and smiling at him.

“Yeah, well, you looked peaceful and I didn’t want to wake you, and believe me that shite that I was covered in took some washing off.”

He didn’t add that he’d nearly scrubbed his privates raw trying to rid them of any last vestiges of the cream that hadn’t yet been absorbed through his skin. He silently cursed George for his helpfulness as the effect from Nemol’s attention would have waned by now and all would have been well. As it was, absolutely nothing stirred down there.

On the plus side he’d found the supply of Yenomi blood in the kitchen. It had been great to take some when the merest hint of a tremble hit him rather than when he was in pain.

“So where’s Peaches?”

He’d roamed the hotel, savouring the ease with which he moved and the freedom to do what he liked. Spike had laughed out loud as he ran up the stairs. He’d also taken the wheelchair and walking frame from the apartment and put them in a closet at the back of the hotel. He didn’t want to see them again.

“He went to Rosedene last night with Moira to sign your release forms,” replied Buffy, pulling him down onto the bed beside her.

“At night?” Spike raised an eyebrow.

Buffy giggled, “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“So Moira and he are…?”

“Looks that way.”

“Brad was there last night too, wasn’t he? He stopped me from going through the door,” said Spike seriously.

“He did. What would that collar have done?”

Spike put a hand on the still livid mark left by it. “It would have blown my head off,” he said, paling slightly, “Had a nice little demonstration to let me know what to expect.”

“Oh God, Spike, thank God you’re safe now,” said Buffy.

She snuggled against him and told him of Laura’s vision and that they all now knew exactly who and what everyone was. They both laughed when she recited how Brad had reacted to seeing Angel’s game face.

“Did he hurt you?” asked Buffy quietly after a pause.

Spike looked at her, his expression unreadable. “No pet, not really. In fact he sped up my healing even more. That wasn’t fun but look at me now - nearly as good as new.”

“But the Yenomi blood…that’s a big problem, Spike,” said Buffy.

“It’ll be fine, love, don’t worry about it. Least that potion he used that stopped me from talking and made me obey orders has worn off,” said Spike, swiftly changing the subject. “Bloody hated that, I did.”

“So if Brad hadn’t stopped you, you really would have just walked through even though you knew what it’d do?”

“Yeah, I knew I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop myself.” He shuddered at the memory. “Always did have trouble not doing what you told me to do though, Slayer.” He smirked.

“You never left when I kept telling you to go away,” reminded Buffy.

“That’s ‘cause I knew that you didn’t really mean it.”

Buffy gave him a push, “God, ego much.”

She slid her hand down his chest and pushed at the waistband of his jeans.

Spike put his hand over hers and quietly said, “No point in going down there just yet, pet.”

Buffy’s hand stilled, “What do you mean?”

“Um…not gonna be able to perform for about a week courtesy of our friendly neighbourhood Ruoloc demon.”

“George? What has he done to you?” snarled Buffy.

“He cured one problem but caused another one,” said Spike. He untangled himself from her arms and got off the bed. He stood with his back to her. “When I was on show Nemol…well…he made sure that everyone could see what I’ve got, if you know what I mean? He said it’d last for twenty-four hours and by the time George got to me it was bloody agony. So he decided to help me out when I was being made ready for transport. Thing is, the effect from the cream that he made Nemol put on,” Spike closed his eyes at the memory, “Could last a week, so I’m bloody useless to you until then.”

Spike didn’t share his worry that it might be permanent. Almost certain is as good as certain, isn’t it? He prayed that it was. He tensed as Buffy’s arms wrapped around him and her body pressed into his.

“You’re never useless to me, you idiot,” she said.

“I wish that I’d been able to kill him,” whispered Spike.

“Trust me, Spike, he didn’t die easily. He begged for it in the end.”

“Shouldn’t have given him what he wanted then, should you? Could have played with him a bit. Hell, I bet we could have sold him.”

“Shh, Spike. That would make us as bad as him. He had to be stopped and he has been. It’s over, Spike,” soothed Buffy.

Spike shook his head a couple of times to clear his thoughts. Buffy was right. He had to put it behind him. He turned around and kissed her soundly.

“So what should we do, Buffy? Want to go for a walk?”

Buffy smiled at him, “That sounds like a great idea. Let me go and grab a shower.”

As she went into the bathroom Spike wandered through to the kitchen. His eyes strayed to the refrigerator where the Yenomi blood was stored. He hadn’t felt any more tremors yet but it wouldn’t hurt if he had some more, would it? He decided that it wouldn’t and helped himself to another bag. Buffy’s cell phone began to ring. Spike picked it up from the dining table and checked the caller I.D. It was Angel.

“’Lo,” he said as he answered it.

“Spike. How are you doing? I was just calling to see how things were.”

“Yeah, mate, I’m good,” replied Spike, “Had a good night, did you?”

Angel could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

“I had a great night,” replied Angel with a grin. Moira was amazing, in more ways than one. “I’ll be heading home soon.”

“Don’t rush on my account. When Buffy’s ready we’re going for a walk.”

“God, yeah. The legs - how are they?”

“Feel almost good as new. They always say something good comes out of something bad. I can’t say how amazing it feels to be able to walk without effort again.” His voice cracked a little, revealing how much he’d hated his disability.

“Take it easy. Don’t do too much and I’ll see you later,” said Angel before they said their good byes and hung up.

When Spike heard Buffy drying her hair he glanced at the refrigerator. Better bring a bag with him just in case. He took one out and left it on the counter. He closed the door then wrenched it open again and took another one out. He glanced furtively over his shoulder before quickly cutting it open and drinking it quickly straight from the bag. He buried the empty bag in the bottom of the trashcan.

“Ready?” said Buffy, startling him.

He turned to face her, “Um…yeah.”

“I thought that you might want this.” She held out his leather duster. “Thought it’d make this walk a bit of a celebration of you getting better.”

He took the duster from her and held it close to his chest. God he loved that coat. He put it on, smiling at its familiar feel.

“Thanks, pet.”

He snagged the bag of blood from the counter as they walked past and put it in the deep pocket of the duster.

“Just in case we’re out for a long time,” said Spike, in reply to Buffy’s quizzical look.

“Good idea,” she said a little too brightly. “Looks like George wasn’t wrong when he said it’ll be hard to wean him off it.”

She took his hand in hers and they strolled out into the sunlight.

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Angel was dozing in his bed, catching up on the sleep he didn’t get the night before, when he heard the front door crash open and the sound of running feet. Instantly alert he leapt off the bed, pulled on his pants and ran barefoot down the stairs to see what was happening. Buffy ran in through the door as he got to the foyer.

“Buffy, what the hell…?”

Buffy’s face was tear-stained but it was the bruise on the side of her jaw that made his words falter. Before he could speak he could hear banging and the sound of crockery being smashed in the apartment.

“Spike?”

Buffy nodded, “We were out too long. The withdrawal for the blood has set in.”

“He do that?” growled Angel, pointing to her face.

“Yes, but it’s not his fault. I tried to stop him and his reaction caught me unawares,” said Buffy.

Angel’s features vamped up and he jogged to the apartment. Buffy followed him. Spike was flinging cupboard doors open and flinging their contents to the ground. He turned and glared at Angel and Buffy when they rushed in.

“Where is it?” he snarled, “I know there’s more here somewhere.”

“Just calm down, Spike,” said Angel, features fading to human.

“I’ll be fucking calm when you give me that sodding blood.”

Angel and Buffy could see that Spike was trembling uncontrollably. His fists were clenching and unclenching repeatedly.

“You hit Buffy, Spike. You’re in trouble. You need to let us help you.”

Spike just glared at him and went back to ransacking the cupboards.

“Buffy, leave the room,” said Angel quietly.

“But…”

“No, I mean it – go,” he said firmly.

Buffy looked at the state that Spike was in and suddenly realised that she didn’t want to see what Angel was going to have to do. With a sob she ran out of the apartment.

“Stop it, Spike,” said Angel as soon as the door had closed behind her.

“Fuck off.” Spike didn’t even turn around.

Angel walked a little closer, “Let me help you, Spike.”

Spike turned to face him and drew himself up to his full height. “If you really want to help me, you’ll give me that blood.” He looked Angel in the eye, chin raised. “I’m all right when I have it. Why won’t you let me have it?” His voice was quiet.

“Because it’ll kill you in the end. That stuff is lethal.”

Spike cried out and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Sweat was beading on his brow. He was shaking so much he had trouble staying on his feet. Angel moved in closer still. The spasm passed and Spike straightened up again, panting heavily.

“Please give me some,” he begged, all the fight going out of him, “It hurts so much.”

“Okay,” lied Angel, “I’ll get you some.”

He went to put his arm around his grandchilde’s shoulder. Spike sprang into action, throwing a huge punch at Angel.

“Lying bastard,” he roared.

Angel had anticipated his move but even so he was surprised at the strength behind it and staggered backwards as it hit his shoulder and not its intended target - his face. Angel vamped up and, drawing on his increased power, he punched Spike soundly on the chin. He collapsed unconscious to the floor.

“Sorry,” whispered Angel as he scooped up his limp body.

He strode out of the apartment, grateful that Buffy was nowhere in sight, and went down into the basement. He went to the cage where he himself had once been imprisoned and put Spike down. He was afraid that Spike would hurt himself in his efforts to get out. Angel had only seen someone addicted to Yenomi blood one time and it had ended badly. He smiled briefly as he remembered that he had the ideal thing for keeping Spike from harming himself. His smile faded as he realised how unpopular it would be with Spike but he went to get it all the same.

Working quickly, as Spike was starting to stir, Angel secured him and dribbled some blood into his mouth carefully, making sure that he swallowed it. It would prevent Spike from feeling so bad when he woke up. Once he was satisfied that Spike was fastened in such a way that he couldn’t hurt himself, he walked out of the cage and locked it securely behind him. He went to find Buffy to tell her what he’d done.

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Spike groaned as consciousness slowly crept back. He was pleased to find that the hideous pain in his gut had reduced down to a bit of an ache.

“Peaches must have given me some blood after all.”

His jaw was sore from where Angel had hit him. He tried to bring his hand up to rub it but he couldn’t.

“What the hell?”

He thrashed frantically as he opened his eyes.

“Oh shite!”

His arms were held tight to his body by the straight jacket that he’d been strapped into. His ankles were chained together and fastened to a ring on the floor. He was lying flat on his back in the centre of the cage. Spike rolled over so that he could get onto his knees and with effort managed to stand up. The chain on his ankles didn’t allow him to move more than a couple of inches in any direction. He didn’t bother to shout. He knew exactly where he was and that no one in the hotel would hear him unless they were in the basement with him. With a sigh he lowered himself back down, yelping as his knees struck the concrete floor. He wriggled until he was back in the position that he’d started in. He resigned himself to waiting until Angel returned. He shuddered at the thought that he might not be given any more blood. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to take the pain.

“Freedom? Huh, it ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

tbc

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

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Awakenings

It was another three days before Spike’s pain and trembling finally stopped, during which time he had never been coherent. Nor had they been able to do more than dribble water between his lips. They’d finally gotten in touch with George and he’d emphatically advised against Brad’s offer of putting Spike on an intravenous drip, explaining that the mixing of normal and magical liquids in his bloodstream would be worse for Spike than being left alone. That also explained why the food he’d been given at the start of his withdrawal had resurfaced shortly after being eaten. As a consequence Spike had visibly lost weight during his ordeal.

The evening after being given the last tiny dose of blood Spike awoke. It wasn’t a gradual rousing like Buffy expected but more like he’d woken from a nightmare. He startled her when he suddenly sat bolt upright with a yell. She quickly recovered and put her hand on his arm.

“Spike, it’s okay. You’re okay…I’m here,” she said softly.

He glanced around wildly, disoriented. He looked at her hand when it touched him and then at her face.

“Buffy,” he whispered.

He tried to raise his hand to her face but was stopped by the strap on his wrist.

“Always knew you were into bondage, pet,” he said, raising an eyebrow and smirking a little.

“Oh Spike, you’re back and you’re okay.” Buffy threw her arms around him with relief. They’d all been worried about what he might be like once he was free of the addiction. She kissed him and he responded willingly.

“Er…love,” he said as their lips parted, his voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah?” Buffy nuzzled at his neck.

“Do you think that you could untie me and then I can hold you properly?”

“Oh shit! Yes…sorry,” said Buffy, flustered.

Spike smiled at her as she fumbled at the straps. Once free he pulled her into his arms and hugged her so tightly that she had to remind him of her need to breathe. He moved her until she was sitting astride him as he leant back against the bed’s headboard. Another smirk played on his lips as he became aware that everything was in full working order. He shifted his hips and could see from Buffy’s expression that she also felt it. Almost certain was obviously good enough. Spike put his hand into the waistband of her pants, his intent clear.

“Awake then?” said Angel dryly as he walked into the bedroom.

Spike stifled a groan, “Ever heard of knocking, mate?”

Angel grinned at him, “Just glad to see that I have a reason to knock again. How are you feeling?”

Buffy slid from Spike’s lap and sat on the edge of the bed. Spike thought for a moment before replying.

“Okay, I think. It’s all a bit fuzzy. I was in the basement, right? Before I was here?”

“We thought it’d be more comfortable for you,” said Buffy, quietly.

“So how long has it been?” asked Spike, rubbing his hand over his unaccustomedly hairy chin.

“Ten days,” said Angel.

“Bloody hell.”

“Exactly,” said Buffy with a giggle.

Spike looked at her puzzled, “What?”

“Blood…been through hell because of it…well, I thought it was funny.”

Spike and Angel exchanged a glance and shrugged.

“Whatever,” said Spike, earning himself a slap on the arm. “So am I cured or am I going to sell my soul to the devil to get some Yenomi before the day’s out?”

“You’re clean, cured, whatever you want to call it,” said Buffy in delight, “And the best part is that those who…um…survive the withdrawal are immune to its effect. You can never be addicted again. In fact you’ll just vomit it up if you take some.”

“Thank God for that,” said Spike, “Didn’t fancy having to go through that again. Mind you it was a lovely feeling when I drank it down.”

Angel and Buffy stared at him.

“It’s all right, the whole ‘feels like your guts are getting ripped out’ part kind of put me off anyway, even if I could still tolerate it.”

Spike glanced at Buffy.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to have a shower, shave and get dressed in something other than these sodding sweatpants. They remind me of Rosedene too much.”

“Okay, hun.” She kissed him hard enough to bruise his lips and make Angel squirm with embarrassment before he got up and walked to the shower.

“He seems fine,” observed Angel when Spike was in the bathroom.

“Too fine, maybe?” replied Buffy, “It’s either that or he is incredibly strong.”

“Incredibly pig-headed more like.”

They both smiled at the truth in his words.

00000000

Spike looked at himself in the mirror. His face was gaunt, cheekbones razor sharp. The ten days’ growth of beard reminded him emphatically why he'd never sported one even in the seventies though he had grown his hair long.

“Christ,” he muttered.

Once he’d showered and shaved he dressed in the inevitable black jeans, frowning as his belt went up a couple of notches tighter.

“Need feeding up a bit, I reckon.”

Spike walked out of the apartment to go seek out Buffy and Angel. He assessed his legs as he walked along. He still had the slight trace of a limp on his right leg but there was no pain at all and he reckoned he could live with that.

“There you are,” he said when he found them in Angel’s office.

“Feel better after a shower?” asked Buffy.

He walked over and perched one hip on the edge of Angel’s desk.

“Yeah, pet, I feel fine.” He caught a whiff of the warmed blood in the mug in Angel’s hand and doubled over retching.

“Spike! What’s wrong?” Buffy said urgently.

Angel downed the rest of the blood and went to Spike.

“Get rid of the sodding mug,” gasped Spike, eyes streaming from all of the heaving.

For a moment Angel was confused but then realised what he meant and picked up the mug. He put it in the refrigerator out of sight and Spike recovered as soon as the door closed.

“What was it?” asked Buffy, “Are you all right now?”

“Yeah, it was just the smell of blood, I couldn’t stand it,” replied Spike, a bit sheepishly. “Looks like I won’t be getting you any meals in the future,” he added, glancing at Angel.

“Huh, like you ever did before,” grumbled Angel.

“How about a nice rare steak?” joked Buffy.

Spike blanched, “God, don’t, it’s making me feel queasy.”

"George wasn’t lying when he said that you’d no longer crave Yenomi blood but I didn’t realise that any blood would make you feel ill,” said Buffy.

“Good job I’m not still a vampire then, pet,” quipped Spike, “It could’ve been a bit tricky.”

“So what do you want to do today?” said Buffy.

“Um, I’m not sure. I feel pretty weak, truth be told.” His stomach rumbled loudly. “And hungry.”

They all laughed.

“How about we go out for something to eat?” said Angel, “I didn’t mind eating that food the other day. I guess I’m going to have to get used to it if I’ve any chance of a ‘normal’ relationship with Moira.”

“Sounds good,” said Buffy, “What do you think?”

Spike really didn’t want to go out but he hadn’t the heart to say no when she was looking at him so eagerly. “Um…yeah…okay,” he said, “Can we just go to the diner? I know it’s not posh but it’s the nearest.”

“Sure, we can go there,” replied Angel.

The three of them walked through the foyer and out into the warm night air. They were soon seated in a booth in the diner. Spike was doing his best not to show it but he was quietly freaking out. He had to concentrate hard to keep from jumping out of his seat every time that he heard something behind him. He knew it was stupid but he couldn’t help the feeling of terror that was creeping over him. Nemol was dead but a part of him was still afraid that he’d be kidnapped again.

Towards the end of the meal, Spike was in desperate need to urinate but couldn’t bring himself to go to the bathroom alone. Nor would his pride allow him to ask Angel to go with him.

“Trouble with eating and drinking this stuff is that it goes straight through you,” grumbled Angel as he got up to go to the bathroom. A vampire has no need for bathroom breaks if he only takes blood.

“Oh thank God.” “Hang on mate, I’ll come with,” said Spike, easing himself out of his seat.

“I thought it was only girls who went in twos?” teased Buffy.

“Real funny, pet,” Spike sarcastically replied.

Spike opted for a stall so that he could lock the door at his back while he relieved himself. He was beginning to hyperventilate a little. “Get a grip, for Christ’s sake.”

He washed his hands as quickly as he could and followed Angel out. Before Angel had the chance to sit back down Spike spoke.

“Look, I’m feeling pretty knackered. Can we go home?”

Buffy glanced at him and saw his drawn face, cursing herself for not noticing earlier how tired he must be. She got out of her seat quickly.

“Of course we can.”

She glanced at Angel and he went to pay the check as she walked out with Spike. He’d taken hold of her hand and was gripping it a bit too tightly for comfort.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, bit tired is all,” said Spike. He felt terrified. “I’ve had a busy few days.” His attempt at a joke fell flat.

As soon as they got back to the hotel Spike excused himself and went to bed in the apartment. He lay on the top of it, fully clothed, just removing his boots. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He was hurled into a kaleidoscope of nightmares, each bleeding into the next. His mind let him see what might have been if he hadn’t been sold to George. He screamed as the knife bit into his genitals but they kept cutting. Then it jumped and it was his tongue being severed. Then his leg with the ancient Polgara laughing as he struggled against his bindings - Nemol wielding the bone saw. A hand gripped his arm tightly.

“No! They can’t take that as well!”

Spike screamed and woke up.

“Hey, you were dreaming.”

Spike panicked and backed away from the hand. He fell off the bed with a thud and then scuttled back further still until he hit the wall. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and bowing his head, eyes squeezed shut.

Brad was stunned by Spike’s reaction.

“Spike, buddy, it’s okay. It was a dream. You’re safe,” he said softly, walking around the bed to get to him.

Spike didn’t respond but tried to make himself even smaller, pressing hard against the wall behind him. His breath was coming in ragged pants.

Brad knelt down in front of him. He reached out and touched him briefly until he saw how it made Spike shake and so he moved his hand away and spoke again.

“Spike, look at me. Come on, raise your head and look around you.”

He didn’t think that Spike was going to respond then he slowly raised his chin, just enough so that he could see Brad as he opened his eyes.

“See, it’s only me,” said Brad as their eyes met.

Spike’s eyes widened momentarily as he recognised Brad and then he grimaced as he realised what he’d done.

“Um…yeah…sorry.” was all he could manage to utter. “Oh shite.” He shuddered violently, lowering his head once more.

“Talk to me, Spike. Tell me what’s wrong,” coaxed Brad.

For a long time neither spoke.

“It was only a dream,” said Spike eventually, “Can’t hurt me, can it? I’m a right bleeding ponce for being scared.”

“No, you’re not a ponce, whatever one of those is,” said Brad, forcing Spike to meet his eyes by lifting his chin, “After what you’ve been through, it’s bound to play with your subconscious. Why don’t you talk to me about it? Tell me what you saw in your dream?”

Spike shuddered again, “Not sure that I can, mate.”

“You have to lean on someone, Spike. You can’t go through this sort of thing alone. Shall I get Buffy?”

“No!” Spike’s voice was sharp. He didn’t want her seeing him so weak that he was afraid of a dream, anymore than he’d wanted her to know that he’d been scared in the diner.

“Well. It’ll have to be me then. You know you can trust me, right? I didn’t save your life twice for you to mess it up by not talking and cracking up.”

“Twice?”

“Yeah, once with the collar thing and then when you fell unconscious I gave you the Yenomi intravenously.”

“Oh.”

Spike looked at the bruises in the crook of his arm. He’d wondered what they were caused by. He was bombarded with images of him in the cage, shackled and screaming and writhing with pain. He closed his eyes, willing the memories away.

“Was it you that brought me in here?” Spike asked hoarsely.

“Well, Angel carried you,” said Brad, smiling, “But yeah, I thought that it would be better for you here than in the basement.” He still couldn’t believe what they’d done to Spike.

Spike recalled Buffy telling him that they’d thought he’d be more comfortable on the bed. She’d lied to him. It had been Brad, not her or Angel, who’d thought of him. He stood up quickly, startling Brad.

“I…I…can’t stay here,” he said, “Brad, help me please.” His blue eyes pained and pleading. “I…need time…need to think.”

“Are you sure?” asked Brad, putting his hand on Spike’s arm.

“If you don’t want to help that’s fine, but I can’t be here,” said Spike, his voice rising a little. He shrugged off Brad’s hand and tried to push past him.”

“Hey. Hey, calm down, I’ll help you. You can come and stay with me if you like.”

Spike sagged with relief. “Really?”

Brad nodded, “Yeah, really. But what about Buffy? Don’t you want to be with her?”

Spike stiffened as he remembered how he’d had to obey her when he was drugged. He knew it hadn’t been her fault but he’d hated it. “I…love her but…I…need…time.”

tbc

Chapter Forty

Time Out

As Brad drove Spike to his and Laura’s apartment he was pleased that Spike had wanted him to tell Buffy and Angel of his decision to leave the hotel for a while. Neither of them had reacted well to it. Both initially accused Brad of influencing Spike until in the end he’d lost his temper and yelled at them to think of someone other than themselves for a change. He’d stepped back a bit quickly as Angel’s eyes flashed amber, but then the vampire apologised and said that whatever Spike needed was the most important thing.

Brad had braced himself against Buffy’s reaction to the fact that Spike didn’t want to see either of them before he left. Surprisingly she accepted it calmly although tearfully. Brad knew that it was a measure of how much she truly loved Spike. He’d called Laura and she’d quickly offered to go to stay with a girlfriend for a couple of days so that Brad could be alone with Spike. Moira had agreed to him taking a few days off work.

“We’re here,” said Brad as he drove into his building’s underground garage.

He noticed how Spike waited until he got out of the car before he climbed out and stood with his back to it, his eyes darting nervously about. In the elevator Spike leant against the back wall, trying and failing to look casual, the tension in him given away by a tic in a muscle on his jaw. Spike didn’t seem to relax until he was in the apartment and Brad had locked the door.

Brad showed him the small guest bedroom and Spike put his bag in there and spoke for the first time since leaving the Hyperion.

“Thanks,” he said simply.

Brad wondered if Spike really ought to be with Moira, she was the psychiatrist after all. When he’d called her about Spike she said that the fact that he’d asked Brad for help was important. He obviously felt that he could trust him. She’d talked Brad through what he might expect from Spike, who was surely suffering from posttraumatic stress. She’d told Brad to contact her at any time, day or night, if he was worried.

“So do you want to talk?” asked Brad, not really sure how to get started.

Spike smiled at him a touch sadly. “I’ll try. Would appreciate a drink though, mate.”

“Okay, make yourself at home,” said Brad, pointing to the couch, “I’ll go and see what we’ve got.”

Neither he nor Laura were big drinkers but a rummage in the back of a cupboard revealed a dusty bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured a good measure in a glass then, after a moment’s hesitation, poured one for himself.

“Here you go.” He handed Spike the liquor and sat in the armchair opposite him.

“Cheers,” said Spike gratefully.

He took a large sip, relishing the fiery feel as the alcohol seared its way down his throat. Slowly, hesitantly, Spike began to tell Brad of his ordeal at the hands of Nemol. When he described the viewing day and how he’d been spread-eagled for display, how he’d heard every demon’s plans for him should they be the purchaser, Brad felt sick, and gulped a mouthful of liquor, coughing and spluttering at its taste.

Spike smiled, “Easy, mate.”

“Sorry Spike, it’s just…”

“Yeah, I know. If it’s too much for you I’ll shut up.”

“No, Spike, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me but fuck, I’m glad that Nemol is dead.”

Spike nodded then carried on. He told of how invasive it had felt to be controlled by someone else. How petrified he’d been walking to the door before Brad stopped him, knowing that he would die and that seeing him killed like that would destroy Buffy. He paused, eyes brimming with unshed tears, twirling the now empty glass in his hands. Brad stood up and took the glass from him, then went to get him a refill and give him a little break. When he gave him the drink Spike nodded at him gratefully and took a mouthful before continuing.

“I know I had to be taken off the Yenomi blood,” said Spike, “But…they tied me up and…and …left me alone.” He met Brad’s eyes. “It hurt, Brad, more than anything I’ve ever known, and I’ve died a couple of times. I was screaming in agony and they left me alone.”

“In fairness to Angel, you did actually bite him one time,” said Brad, unsure of what else to say.

“Did I?” Spike managed a low chuckle, “Never got to do that when I was a vampire.”

“They just didn’t know what else to do, Spike,” said Brad, defending them though he’d been unable to believe his eyes when he’d seen what they’d done.

“Yeah, I know. But I still feel…oh I dunno what I bleeding feel,” he said in frustration, “I thought that I was okay, I really did, then when we went out for something to eat all I could think about was what if someone caught me again and this time just took me out of this dimension. Then they could do what they wanted and no one would be able to help me.”

“It’s understandable to be afraid, Spike, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. No one’s so strong that something like that wouldn’t leave its mark for a while,” said Brad.

“For a while? So it’ll pass? I’ll get over it?”

“I’m sure you will, Spike but like the progress with your legs, it may take a while.”

Spike yawned.

“Do you want to call it a night?” asked Brad.

Spike shook his head adamantly, “No.”

Brad looked at him quizzically and Spike looked down into his glass.

“Don’t want to have another soddin’ dream like that,” he said brokenly.

In response to Brad’s gentle prompting Spike told him what the dream had been like. Brad paled as he described it. He didn’t think that he wanted to go to sleep with those images in his mind, let alone Spike.

“Um…would you like to play a game of Crash Bandicoot?” asked Brad, hoping that Spike wouldn’t mind that it was an old game. To his surprise Spike’s face lit up.

“Yeah, mate, that’d be great. I haven’t really played it since…um…since I had my hands reattached.”

“Reattached?” said Brad weakly.

“Yeah, long story. Tell you another time, okay? So are you going to get it or what?”

“Er…all right,” replied Brad, amazed at how lightly Spike had just mentioned having his hands reattached. “I don’t want to know half of what this guy has been through or I’ll never sleep again.”

00000000

They played until they could play no more. Brad walked with Spike to the guest room. He could tell that Spike was still nervous about sleeping and he made a mental note to get a prescription of sleeping pills for him from the doctor at Rosedene.

“I’m just across the hall if you need me, okay?” reassured Brad, watching Spike approach the bed as if he expected it to bite him. “It doesn’t matter what time or anything.”

Spike kept his eyes downcast, “Thanks, mate.”

He jumped as Brad closed the door behind him. Spike got undressed and put on a pair of pyjama bottoms and sat on the bed. His heart was racing. He placed a hand on his chest; being able to feel his heartbeat was still something that surprised him. He wriggled further onto the bed and leant his head back against the headboard. He concentrated on his breathing and tried to calm himself down. Gradually, as his heart rate steadied and without even realising it, he drifted off to sleep.

000000000

Buffy lay on the bed in the apartment. It was the closest thing to Spike that she could get to. She curled up miserably, her small frame lost in the vastness of the king-sized bed. She felt hurt that he’d turned to Brad for support and not her. She could understand why he wouldn’t want to stay at the hotel after the way that he’d been treated and all that he’d been through. The Spike he’d been before would have laid himself open emotionally to her but he’d been changed by his experiences and still seemed to worry that she’d think less of him if he showed weakness. He didn’t know that she loved him all the more for it. It proved that the demon was gone and what was left was a truly remarkable human being - one she couldn’t live without. She finally fell asleep and dreamt of banishing any demons that haunted him.

00000000

Spike tossed and turned on the bed as the dreams once more took over his mind; endless repetitions of torture, maiming, being ordered to do things and being unable to resist despite the pain that those orders caused. His body was drenched in sweat as he cried out as the dream shifted and another knife was wielded. His body tied down, escape impossible. The knife cut deep. He screamed.

00000000

Brad woke with the echo of Spike’s scream ringing in his ears. He raced to the guest bedroom. He paused at the door, amazed that Spike was still asleep after such a bloodcurdling scream. Spike’s whole body was tensed, spread-eagled on the bed as if tied down. The covers were long since kicked to the floor. Brad hesitated - should he wake him? Surely that would be better than reliving whatever horrors were present in his dream. As he walked to the bed wondering how to do it without scaring him further, Spike suddenly went limp. For a second Brad thought that he was dead, then he noticed Spike’s shallow breathing and heard him whisper. He leaned in closer to hear what he was saying.

“Buffy, you came for me.”

Brad stood up and watched him for a time. Spike rolled over onto his side and looked comfortable. Brad pulled the covers over him and went back to his room. Whatever Spike had been dreaming seemed to have passed and he hoped that now Spike could get some proper rest.

00000000

The knife dug into his leg and the pain was incredible. As Spike screamed the ancient Polgara and Nemol just laughed.

“Is that the right place?” asked Nemol, indicating the wound he’d inflicted.

“Yes, thank you. I’m so glad that we decided to leave his tongue until last,” remarked the Polgara casually.

Nemol swapped the knife for a bone-saw. He put a strap around Spike’s thigh and pulled it as tightly as he could. He didn’t want Spike to bleed out from the customisation he was about to perform.

“I hope that he remains conscious at least until the castration is done,” said Nemol, “It’s never any fun doing that if they don’t know about it.”

“Bit of a shock to wake up to, though,” chuckled the Polgara.

Nemol turned to reply but stared in horror as the Polgara fell to the ground an axe buried in his skull.

“What was that about castration?” said Buffy, slowly spinning a smaller axe in her hand, the light dancing on its razor sharp edge. She smiled as she saw Nemol drop the bone-saw and begin to back up. “You being conscious works for me. How about you, Spike? Should he be asleep or awake when I rip his balls off?”

Spike stared at Buffy, unable to believe his eyes.

“Buffy, you came for me,” he whispered.

“Like I’d leave you here, you dope,” she smiled, “Now where was I? Oh, yes, about here.”

She threw the axe at Nemol. It hit the exact mark that she aimed for, almost severing his left ankle. Screaming, Nemol collapsed to the ground but kept trying to back away. She strode over to him and yanked the axe out of his leg, eliciting another shriek.

“Please don’t,” begged Nemol, hands outstretched, “I’ll give the money back. It wasn’t personal.”

Buffy turned her back to him and walked to Spike, untying him and kissing his lips.

“Did you hear that? Wasn’t personal, he says.” Buffy said to Spike as she helped him to sit up on the table and hang his legs over the edge of it. Spike couldn’t speak, he just gazed at her in wonder. She squeezed his hand and turned back to Nemol who, by now, was sitting in a pool of blood.

“How much more personal can it get than kidnapping, selling and torturing my boyfriend?” she asked quietly.

“I was just doing my job. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me any more. I’ll leave this dimension and never come back,” pleaded Nemol.

“Take your pants off.”

“W…what?” Nemol glanced at Spike who was still sitting on the table looking a bit out of it. Was she going to let Spike do to him what Nemol had threatened to do to Spike?

“Don’t even look at him,” snarled Buffy, “Just do it.”

Reluctantly Nemol pulled his pants down, and when they were at his knees Buffy slashed with the axe, severing his genitals and his right hand with the blow. For a split second Nemol was silent, looking at his bloody crotch and stump of an arm in shock. Then he screamed and didn’t stop.

“So much better when they’re conscious. I have to agree with you there,” said Buffy coldly. She raised the axe for the killing blow.

“No!”

Buffy turned to see Spike walking towards her. He held out his hand. Wordlessly she gave him the axe and stepped back. It was only right that Spike should do it.

“Don’t need a fucking collar on to make your head leave your shoulders,” said Spike quietly.

He kicked Nemol’s shattered ankle to make sure that the half demon met his eye and then swung the axe neatly lopping off his head. He dropped the axe and then fell to his knees. Buffy’s arms were around him in an instant.

“I’ve got you, you’re safe,” she whispered.

Spike looked at her and smiled slightly, “I’m safe.” Then he buried his face in her shoulder and hugged her close to his body.

000000000

Buffy woke up. “God, that was weird,” she muttered as she climbed out of bed and headed for the shower.

She’d dreamed of killing Nemol. She could almost still smell the blood. It was strange how the scene had played through as if the Polgara had bought Spike and she’d arrived just in time to prevent Spike from being maimed. The injuries inflicted on Nemol were the same as what had actually happened but it had been Spike who’d cut off his head.

She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as the hot water ran over her body. That was how it should have been. She should have been the first person Spike saw as he was rescued and Spike should have been the last thing that Nemol saw. Her body ached for Spike’s touch. She glanced down and almost fell over as the sight of the water running down the drain being tinged red as if by blood startled her.

“What the hell?”

And then it was gone, the water once more running clear. She shook her head in confusion.

“God, that dream must have really got to me.”

Buffy turned the shower to cold for the last few seconds before she got out, shivering slightly as she wrapped herself in a towel.

000000000

Spike woke up. He looked around the room.

“What?” He put his head in his hands. “It was only a dream.”

He sighed softly. It had seemed so real. He’d wanted it to be real. The satisfaction he’d felt when he’d lopped off that bastard Nemol’s head was a feeling that he didn’t want to lose. He’d felt in control for the first time since the prophecy made him human, if he were honest about it. It was a feeling that he’d missed. He smiled as he recalled Buffy’s words about hurting her boyfriend - she was so certain. So sure of her need to exact revenge on Nemol on Spike’s behalf but had handed him the axe without question so that he could finish it. His body ached for her touch.

Spike threw the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His breath caught in his throat as a stab of pain went through his left leg.

“What the hell?”

Spike stared, transfixed at a patch of blood on his leg just above the knee. He glanced round the room quickly but he knew that he was alone. He pulled down his pyjama bottoms to examine the wound. The small mark left by the Polgara’s skewer as it indicted where his leg was to be amputated was now a couple of inches longer. Spike tentatively touched it, hissing slightly as his fingers made contact. It appeared to be fairly deep.

“Shit,” said Spike as he realised that it was how the wound on his leg had been in the dream. “This is weird.”

He walked over to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, pleased to find that although the cut hurt, it didn’t make him limp. He let the water rinse the blood from his leg, the red tinged water rushing down the drain. He dried himself off on the towel Brad had left out for him, dabbing carefully around the wound, cursing quietly as it began to bleed again. He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom, almost colliding with Brad.

“Sorry, mate, was miles away,” said Spike.

“That’s okay,” replied Brad, “Um…what’s wrong with your leg?” He spotted the blood trickling down it.

“Er…well I had a dream and in it my leg got cut and when I woke up I had the same cut on it. I know that it sounds crazy but it’s the truth. I didn’t do it,” said Spike earnestly.

“Yeah?” said Brad, “No, I believe you,” he added quickly as he saw Spike’s face cloud. “I mean anything’s possible round you guys, isn’t it? But has it happened to you before? Have you had a dream bleeding through to reality? No pun intended.”

“I’ve heard of it but never had it happen to me before now,” replied Spike, “But there was nothing in the room that I could have used to do it to myself.”

“Come on into the kitchen and let me have a good look at it.”

Spike followed Brad and sat down on one of the chairs whilst Brad knelt down and examined the wound.

“This could do with a couple of stitches,” said Brad, “I can do them if you like.”

“You’re a useful kind of a fella, aren’t you?” teased Spike, “That’d be great, thanks. Had my fill of hospitals and such just lately.”

A few minutes later and Spike’s wound was stitched up and looking much less inflamed.

“So what was going on in the dream other than you got stabbed?”

Brad couldn’t help but sit open mouthed as Spike recounted his dream.

“Funny thing is that it felt like a memory and not a dream. I feel better knowing that I killed the git,” said Spike quietly.

“Do you feel up to going outside then?” asked Brad, wondering if Spike’s feeling of well-being would survive leaving the apartment without his becoming distressed.

Spike’s intense blue eyes met his and Brad knew that Spike saw it for what it was - a test.

“I’ll try, okay?”

“Great. As soon as we’re ready we’ll go out and grab us some breakfast,” said Brad, knowing that Spike had felt very vulnerable when he was eating with Buffy and Angel the day before.

Spike walked to the diner that Brad had chosen without feeling too stressed. The only time he really tensed up was when someone bumped into him from behind but Brad had steadied him and when the person apologised he felt himself relax again. He’d smiled sheepishly at Brad. Once inside Brad hung back to let Spike choose where to sit. After glancing around Spike slid into a seat that enabled him to have his back to the wall. Brad guessed why and didn’t think that it was anything to worry about. He sat down opposite Spike. By the time the waitress came with their order Spike was looking comfortable at being there. In fact he sounded more like the Spike that Brad had known before the kidnapping ordeal. That strange dream seemed to have eased his fears.

The two men made their way back to Brad’s place, chatting and joking in a way that neither would have thought possible the day before. They’d just got in when Brad’s cell rang; it was Buffy. She asked how Spike was doing. Brad glanced over at him and mouthed ‘Buffy’ to him. Spike nodded and held out his hand for the phone. He wanted to hear her voice so badly. He went into the bedroom before speaking to her.

“Buffy,” he said softly.

“Are you all right?” Buffy asked, the concern evident in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m a bit better, I reckon. Sorry about running out but…it was all too much…you know?” He was desperate for her to know that he hadn’t run from her as such, rather from the situation.

“I know, Spike. I get it. Don’t worry.”

Spike felt himself relax.

“I don’t remember much between you getting me out and waking up after the withdrawal - just bits and pieces. I…I didn’t hurt anybody, did I? That’s not why I was put in that straightjacket, is it?”

“No, it’s okay, you didn’t,” replied Buffy.

Something in her voice made him think that she wasn’t being honest with him. He gasped as the memory of him punching her flashed through his mind.

“Spike? Spike?” said Buffy urgently.

“Oh, Buffy…I hit you.” He slumped onto the bed. “I’m…” He was going to say sorry but it didn’t seem enough. He stared at the phone in horror and severed the connection. His mind was full of when he’d attacked her in the bathroom at Revello Drive before he’d sought out his soul. He was trapped in the past.

tbc

Chapter Forty-One

Learning To Deal…

When Spike didn’t emerge from his bedroom after thirty minutes Brad went and knocked on the door. Getting no answer he slowly pushed it open. Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed, head low, staring at the phone in his hands. He glanced up as Brad walked towards him.

“I hit her.”

Brad bit back the retort that she’d allowed him to be chained to the floor of a goddamn cage, deciding that it would be hardly helpful.

“I know, but it was the addiction that made you.”

Spike looked back at the phone.

“But I hit her, I attacked her, I…”

Brad sat next to him on the bed and gently took the phone from his hands.

“She’s all right though. She loves you. She knows it wasn’t your fault,” said Brad.

Spike shook his head. “I hit her. I hurt the girl. Promised I never would and now I have.” His face crumpled and tears began to fall.

Brad watched in dismay. Spike had been doing so well that morning. He tried to talk to him but Spike seemed to withdraw and didn’t acknowledge his presence. When Spike curled up into a ball on the bed Brad knew that he wasn’t the one who could help him this time. He walked into the lounge before dialling the number. It was answered almost immediately.

“Yes?”

“He needs you,” said Brad simply.

He got no reply as the connection was cut off but he knew that she’d be there as soon as she could. A couple of minutes later there was a knock at the door. Frowning he went to open it wondering who it could be. No way could she have gotten here so soon. His eyes widened at the sight.

“Buffy! How did you get here so quickly?” He glanced around as if he expected to see something strange.

She smiled, “No weird tricks, Brad. I’ve been outside of the building since Spike hung up on me but I didn’t have the nerve to come up until you called.”

“Oh,” said Brad in relief, “Glad to see that teleportation is still in the realms of science fiction.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“No? Really? It happens?”

“Yeah, some demons can do it and witches too.”

“Christ.”

“So where is he? Why did you call me?”

“Um…oh…sorry,” stuttered Brad, “I found him after he’d spoken with you. He just kept going on about hitting you and something about hurting the girl.” He noticed Buffy stiffen. “You know what he means by it?”

“Yes,” replied Buffy, “It refers to something that happened a long time ago. Where is he?”

Brad showed her to the room and then left them alone. Her heart missed a beat when she saw Spike huddled on the bed.

“Spike?” she said softly as she sat next to him, “Baby, look at me, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt the girl. That was a long time ago, not now.”

He shook his head, “Spike’s a bad man. He hurt the girl.”

“Spike, look at me. See where we are. We’re in LA at Brad and Laura’s apartment. Come on, look at me, then you can see that I’m not hurt at all.”

His tearstained face looked up at her and his eyes met hers. “I hit you,” he whispered.

“Shh, I know but it’s okay. It really is.”

“I hit you. I hurt you. You’re right not to trust me,” he said, still somehow locked in the past.

“Slayer here, yeah? I’m tough and anyway you hit like a…a…ponce,” she said with a grin, pleased that she remembered the English insult.

Spike’s eyes widened a little and he sat up.

“You didn’t hurt me, Spike. You just got me out of your way so that you could get the blood. The other was a long time ago and you remember that I’ve forgiven you for that, don’t you? It’s the blood’s fault; Nemol’s fault, not yours.” She reached out and took his hand. “We’re in LA, not Sunnydale. I trust you with my life, Spike.”

Spike stared at her. She could practically see him trying to work things out in his head.

“It’s not like I haven’t hit you plenty of times, is it? I’ve damn near dusted you more times than enough. Remember that time in the alley behind the police station? I beat you to a pulp and all you were doing was trying to help me.” She stroked his hand.

“Nemol’s dead,” murmured Spike.

“Yeah, he couldn’t be deader,” replied Buffy, “I saw to that. No one gets away with kidnapping, selling and torturing my boyfriend.”

Spike gasped and pulled his hand away.

“What?”

“You said that to him.”

“Yeah, I did, right before…”

“You cut off his knackers.”

“And don’t forget the hand,” added Buffy, “Though that was a fluke. Didn’t aim for it. Hey, how do you know? I never told you the details.”

“Um…I had a dream last night,” said Spike, “I was back there but the Polgara had bought me, not George.”

“You had a dream?” said Buffy incredulously, “I had a dream too, that the Polgara had bought you and I went in and…”

“Rescued me. You threw an axe at the Polgara’s head and then you went for Nemol…”

“But I gave you the axe…”

“And I cut the bastard’s head off,” finished Spike.

They stared at each other. How could it be possible?

“But I wasn’t in time to stop you being hurt. In my dream Nemol had cut your leg before I got there.”

Spike pulled up the leg of his jeans until Buffy could see the dressing that Brad had put on over the sutures. She reached out and touched it gently with her fingers.

“That wasn’t there before…how…?”

“It happened last night during the dream.”

“But that would mean that…” said Buffy.

“The dream was real.”

“It couldn’t be though, could it? I mean that’s not how it actually happened. I wasn’t the one to get to you first,” said Buffy tearfully, “I was too focussed on killing Nemol to come to find you. And then…and then I nearly killed you by making you go through that door. If it hadn’t been for Brad…”

Spike pulled her into his arms, their roles reversed. He now was the one to offer comfort. His mind was safely back to the present.

“Shh, pet, you weren’t to know and you did save me. You always do. I’m no good without you.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her towards him until their lips met. She melted into his body.

“Oh, Spike,” she murmured, kissing him deeply.

Spike’s doubts and self-loathing were forgotten as he kissed Buffy. Aware only of her. He knew that they’d be all right, that he’d be all right. Somehow between them they had killed the demon haunting Spike and he felt he could move on as long as she was there to ground him.

Spike grinned at her and rolled them both over until they were lying on the bed, its springs pinging in protest. His hand went under her top, reaching for the fastener on her bra.

“What about Brad?” asked Buffy, aware that the apartment was small and not wanting to have him able to hear them. She was never very quiet; she couldn’t help it.

Both laughed as, as soon as the words were out of Buffy’s mouth, Brad called saying that he was going out for a couple of hours and that he had the cell if they needed him before that.

“I like Brad,” said Spike, smirking up at Buffy who was straddling him.

“I think that I might love him,” chuckled Buffy, “Don’t worry, nowhere near as much as I love you.”

Spike put a hand behind her head and drew her into another kiss.

“I know,” he said quietly, understanding that she felt just as strongly as he did for her. “Hey, did you call me a bloody ponce?”

With a flick of his fingers Buffy’s bra popped open. She’d never known anyone able to undo a bra with one hand as deftly as Spike could.

“No, I said that you hit like one.”

She took off her top and then her bra and leaned down to kiss him. She moaned as he brushed his lips against her erect nipples. Then put his arms around her waist and an instant later she was beneath him.

“I can do all the work now, pet. I’ll show you that I’m no bleeding ponce!” He grinned at her.

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that he had nothing to prove to her but she stopped herself. He needed to do this and she was more than happy to let him. She tugged at his jeans.

“About time that you lost a few layers, Spike.”

He shifted, undid his jeans and slid out of them. Her eyes were drawn to how lean his body was, with not an ounce of spare flesh on him. She wriggled out of her own pants, both giggling as they got stuck on the shoes she’d forgotten to discard. Spike grumbled under his breath as he fumbled to get them off.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” she teased, stroking her breast as he looked up.

Spike finally dragged the clothes off her.

“Come here, wench,” he said, pulling her down the bed towards him.

“Some sweet talker you are,” stated Buffy sarcastically, “Y…”

She couldn’t finish as Spike’s questing fingers found their mark and his mouth locked onto hers. His tongue demanded admittance; she yielded willingly, her hands reaching down to stroke him. She smiled as his erection jumped at her touch.

“I think this is wanting to be someplace,” she said, opening her legs wider and inviting him in.

Spike’s eyes bored into hers as he entered her, both of them arching their backs at the sensation.

“Oh, God, Buffy,” he muttered breathlessly, then he smirked as she was unable to speak as his fingers continued to stimulate her in time to his thrusts.

The rhythm increased and their world narrowed until all it consisted of was the bed and each other.

As they lay in each other’s arms after following their frenetic lovemaking with a slower version, they were grateful that Brad still hadn’t returned despite being gone for well over two hours.

“Welcome back, Spike,” sighed Buffy, resting her head on his chest.

“If that’s what I get when I’ve been away, I think I’d better go away again more often,” joked Spike, grunting as she elbowed him in the ribs.

A half hour after they’d finally disentangled from each other and showered, Brad arrived home, knocking loudly on the door before walking in.

“You’d better be decent by now!” he called, “I’d really like to be able to sit in my lounge for a bit.”

“Yeah, mate, you’re safe,” laughed Spike when Brad found them sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. “Want one?”

“No thanks. I walked about for a while and then I hit Starbucks. I think it’ll be a week before I can sleep,” replied Brad.

“Thanks Brad,” said Buffy, “And I mean for everything.”

“Yeah…well…it’s okay,” said Brad, looking embarrassed. “Are you okay, Spike?”

“I think so. My head feels clearer than it did. There’s one thing though.” He glanced at Buffy. “No offence to Peaches but I really don’t want to go back to the Hyperion. The place has caused me nothing but pain. Was bad enough being there with the memory of the Shanshu kicking in but now…”

“What was that like?” asked Brad curiously, “How did it feel to become human again?”

“Like bleeding everything that happens to me, it soddin’ hurt,” replied Spike wryly.

“Hey!” protested Buffy.

Spike smirked, “It’s okay, love. You make it hurt in all the right places.”

“Too much information!” yelled Brad.

“Sorry, mate,” said Spike, actually anything but. “It hurt then it just felt really weird you know, feeling my heart start pumping. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins for a while. I’m glad that faded away.”

“Why didn’t you want it?” asked Brad.

“Lots of reasons but mostly ‘cause I’d wanted so badly to be the man that Buffy deserved and then I died and I thought that she’d moved on so I never got in touch. Wanted her to be happy…”

“I couldn’t be happy without you,” interrupted Buffy, reaching out and holding his hand.

Spike smiled at her, his eyes full of love, “I know that now, pet. But back then I didn’t want to be human if I couldn’t be with you. I could do more good as a vampire. I didn’t want to be weak.”

“But you’re more than human, aren’t you?” said Brad.

“I seem to be but I didn’t know it then.” He turned to Buffy, “And you said that I hit like a ponce.”

“You’re not going to let that drop, are you?” she laughed, “I’ll get you up to snuff in no time. You just need to do some training and sparring.”

Spike quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head, “Wouldn’t mind the sparring.”

To be concluded in the next chapter!