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Disclaimer: The show aint mine.

Author’s Note: Very sorry for the short chapter. And try not to be too freaked out by Spike’s behavior in this particular chapter…this chapter’s a little on the lighter side, a completely different mood from the previous. I like to mix it up.

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Hospitals smelled like old people to Fred. She didn’t think that in a disrespectful way, or at least she thought it in a way that could be counted as the least disrespectful to the elderly…but it was sterile and filled with pajamas and frills and everyone was either trying not to die or smiling and studiously ignoring the fact that they could die at any moment.

There was also dry skin and frizzy hair.

That was the part that horrified Winifred Burkle the most as she stood outside the room reserved for the comatose Cordelia Chase. In her hands was a small but tasteful bundle of flowers and a basket of personal-care products.

Cordelia had always been one of the girliest girls that Fred had ever known. She’d always taken care of herself, no matter the crisis they were currently involved in. She had prided herself on her appearance in even the harshest and poorest environments.

Now she was washed daily by a bunch of strangers who didn’t seem to notice or care about the split ends in her hair or the flakes on her skin. They didn’t see any significance in her unpolished nails or chapped lips.

“Hey, Cordy…”

Fred made herself snug in the single chair beside the bed. She had cleared her schedule for the next few hours to prepare herself for a long visit. She hoped that her extra-long visits would make up for the neglect from the others.

“How’re you feelin’? You look tired to me….” She frowned as her poor attempt at a joke fell flat even to her. “Sorry. That was stupid.”

Winifred set the flowers in the vase on the bedside table and began to unload her basket of goodies. “I wish I did know how you were, though…I mean, are you sound asleep, are you dreaming in there, or are mystical comas completely different and you’re somehow trapped somewhere?”

She scooted herself closer to the bed and the still and silent Cordelia. “Maybe I should look into that…I mean, if I can open portals to other dimensions, a mystical coma shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” Fred’s smile felt forced as she took out the leave-in conditioner she’d brought, and rubbed some between her hands. “Angel would really like that; if I found a way…he’s been lonely as sin without you.”

Cordelia’s hair wasn’t soft to the touch anymore. Fred was determined to change that, and ran her fingers tenderly through it, massaging her scalp before moving slowly down, leaving a light shine to each strand. The room was beginning to smell less like antiseptic.

“What am I saying? We all miss you…” She looked at her friend’s blank face. “It feels like you were the glue that kept us together, you know? You were the one that…” She sighed, slowly removing her fingers from her friends hair after lingering a moment to stroke it. “And Wolfram and Hart is really testing us as it is. We’re startin’ to give way a little…though, I wouldn’t let the others hear me say that. I almost don’t wanna say it with the lab and all…but I know you’d raise hell over it if you could.”

Next came the lavender lotion. Fred started with Cordelia’s hands, rubbing the lotion into palms and fingers. “Is it wrong to miss Charles?” she asked suddenly.

“I mean…I know he slept with another woman…he never could keep a secret from me…although the whole lawyer persona is really helping him improve on that ability…and if I think about it, it was over before he did that. But I miss him sometimes…the way he was before. We’ve all changed. But none so much as him, I think.”

Fred pulled the sheet up and winced at the site of her friend’s feet. The skin was cracked and peeling at the heels and soles. “Sometimes I just want to shake him up and find the pieces of him that I knew…” The small built Texan used a generous amount of lotion on each foot, ignoring the scrape of rough skin against her hand as she massaged and moisturized. She looked down at her work and grinned. “Hey, maybe if this whole Wolfram and Hart business goes kablooey I can consider a new career path in massage therapy!”

Her cheeriness faded as she tried to think of more words to fill the room with to make up for her silent partner. “Oh! Spike’s here! Angel said you met him before…he’s not HERE here…he’s actually buried at the bottom of the hellmouth, which was destroyed by the way…by him from what I hear. He’s all ghostly now, haunting Wolfram and Hart…and not evil anymore, he has a soul. So he was a vampire with a soul like Angel, only now he’s a ghost-vampire with a soul…it just aint all that easy to keep up with, you know?”

Fred pushed the blankets up higher, blushing as she looked up at her friend. “I won’t try anything frisky, promise.” The hair on Cordelia’s legs had grown out, as expected, but Winifred was relieved to find them still shapely, the muscle still firm under her hand as she rubbed the lotion up and down her calves. “Well, at least the mystical comas good for one thing…it seems to be keeping you a little healthy, at least. Well…aside from the coma part. But, look, not much atrophy yet!” She smiled brightly as her hands moved up to Cordelia’s knees.

She stopped at her lower thighs in the name of modesty, and tucked her back in. “I think next time I’ll bring same nail polish. I’m not really good at manicures or anything, but now’s a real good time to learn, right?”

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The one thing that Spike had come to deeply appreciate was his ability to change his appearance. By concentrating enough he could manipulate his appearance and have others see him any way he wanted. With his slipping sanity, he knew it was best to distract himself any way he could.

And revenge was a sweet distraction.

He was thrilled to find that Angel would not return to his penthouse until later. And he was ecstatic when he overheard the intern that had been with him was planning another visit.

Spike had seen pictures of himself on his most flashy eye-liner days. He concentrated hard and projected that image. Though he couldn’t be sure that his face turned out right, he was reassured when he saw the black nail polish spreading across his fingernails. For the last step, he lounged across Angel’s couch and slowly the image of his clothing receded. His naked form, as he remembered it, was draped across the leather that Spike wished he could feel.

He had imagined his cock hard and waiting, and there it stood. He looked down at it with a fond and bitter grin. “What a waste of flesh, ah mate? We were a fine specimen.”

The former vampire wished he could project a cigarette, cock ring and leather harness, but was afraid too much would make him lose his focus.

Spike would have held his breath as the doorknob turned if he could. He spread his legs out wide to show off his goods. “’bout time you got your sweet little arse back – oh. It’s you.” Spike put a smug, contemptuous smirk on his face, acting as if he hadn’t been expecting little blonde intern standing stock still in the doorway.

She had been in the process of unbuttoning her blouse to reveal some enticing cleavage.
She couldn’t seem to move after catching site of Spike’s assets, bared to the world.

“Look all you want, you’re not gettin’ any.”

“I…I’m sorry…am I in the wrong…?”

“I know who you’re lookin’ for, honey…but see, you’re not needed anymore.”

“What…?”

The former vampire leaned forward and reached down to frame the base of his erection with his hand. “See, it’s like this. Angel…he likes to experiment a bit…keep his options open…test his boundaries, sort to say. But…he always does come crawlin’ back to me.”

By then the intern’s face was scarlet, and her mouth gaping open.

“So, you can tottle off now.” He waved his hand to shoo her away. “Oh! And some advice, luv…” Spike lounged back on the couch, the perfect picture of comfort and ease. “Keep to the boys…and leave the real men for real men.”

That was when Angel entered, his bulk blocking most of the doorway, and a civil smile on his face to greet the only guest he could smell. Spike had only a moment to smirk at his grandsire before the young blonde woman whirled on him, all fire and indignant rage.

“You…bastard! You…weird pervert!”

“What?” Angel did a double take as he caught sight of Spike’s nakedness, and right there on his couch. “What are you…? No…no!”

“It’s alright now, sweetness.” Spike put on his most soothing, tender voice. I told her everything. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Wait…Linda!”

“Ew!” Linda swiftly removed a bracelet from her wrist and thrust the tiny cross that dangled from it into the dejected vampire’s face. She tried to ward him off as she inched her way around him, and out the door. “Sick…you used me, you...sicko!”

“It’s not what you…!”

But she slammed the door in his face.

Spike grin was more genuine than it had been for weeks. “Gee…think you’ll ever get laid here again, ponce?”


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Linda wasted no time in storming down the hall in a fury, right past the former Watcher that was making his way to the penthouse.

“SPIKE!” The shout was followed by the sound of breaking furniture and shattering glass, something that instantly discouraged Wesley’s idea for a visit.

He paused to reconsider before he reached the elevator, but soon heard more shouting. “I do believe I’ll come back later…”





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