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.
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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
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks to Carol for her beta work and to dawnofme who found the perfect picture of Rosedene house! Both are total stars!! :)