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Spike’s condition remained much the same over the next few days, interspersed with brief periods of lucidity that surprised her every time. One such period came as she was washing his face and hands, determined to keep him a bit cleaner than she had for the first few days. She held her hand in his gently, wiping the cloth up and down in bare arms.

“Dru’s gone, isn’t she?” he spoke up softly, and she jumped – as she always seemed to do when he surprised her with something like normal sentences. She looked up at him but his eyes were on the floor and he refused to meet her gaze – not an uncommon tendency of late.

“Yeah,” she finally answered, continuing her ministrations, “She’s gone. I haven’t seen her since… not in about a week and a half.”

He nodded, his movements slow. When she reached out for his other hand, he let her take it, lost in thought.

“Could feel it. Feel that she wasn’t around.”

He fell silent and she continued her task, her heart bursting with sympathy for him.

“Bet I make her look sane at times,” he commented lowly and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sometimes,” she admitted and he raised his head, giving her a tiny smile. It was so good to see him like this, eyes bright and taking everything in - with her in the moment for once. Giving into an impulse, she leant forward and hugged him swiftly, before pulling back and returning to her position. When she glanced at him, he was frowning in confusion.

“What was that for?”

“I’m just really glad when you’re… you.”

He gave her another half-smile and then he dipped his head, gaze averting hers almost sheepishly. Well, she guessed he wasn’t completely himself after all.



Despite the moments of lucidity though, he was still constantly plagued by memories and bouts of conscience that often had him crying out in his sleep. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept through the night without being woken at any point. Sometimes his nightmares were so bad that she would go to him, desperately trying to soothe him, talking to him, holding his hand as he lashed out in his sleep, crying out and often simply crying.

And the more she saw him suffer, the more she began to realise just what Angel had been through – began to understand him a little better. And the more she began to doubt the rightness of the gypsy curse. She could understand why they would want revenge, but it seemed so unnecessarily cruel. Why not just kill the vampire and get him out of the way? This endless suffering just seemed unjustifiably brutal, to her at least. And she didn’t exactly draw comfort from the fact that it had taken Angel years to come to terms with his soul, to become the man he was today.

She hoped Spike, with her help, would be back to something like his old self in a lot shorter time than that. Suffering like this was something she never would have wished upon him, even during the days of their most intense enmity. So, she was determined to do everything she could do to make things easier for her, for as long as it took.



He was feeding regularly now, which was a good thing. He had lost a drastic amount of weight in a short space of time, as had become clear when she was washing him, and his eyes had become sunken, his skin even paler than usual. Needless to say, she was glad to see him looking a lot healthier, even if she could still clearly see the outlines of his ribs. The blood helped his mental state as well, she noticed: more often than not, his moments of lucidity would come shortly after feeding.

He began to move around more as well, instead of continually huddling in the corner – although that still happened when he was particularly agitated and when he knew Angel was in the house. Angel stayed away from his room but somehow, Spike still knew he was around and it would send him straight to the corner and straight into a bout of crazed, painful monologues. She still didn’t really know what to do about that – she had hoped at first that Angel might have been able to help the younger vampire cope with his soul, but it seemed that was out of the question now. She was just glad Angel seemed to be acting a bit more normally now because dealing with two emotionally-strung vampires would have driven her crazy, she was sure.

As it was, seeing Angel and visiting her mother were the only times when she felt normal, when she could enjoy a normal conversation that didn’t end in screaming or crying or incoherent babbling. Despite the difficulties though, she couldn’t help feeling some affection for the vampire she was nursing – it was only natural, she supposed, with them being so close so often. Whenever he made any sign of progress, she was overjoyed and would be smiling for the next hour at least.



Another good bit of progress was that he was no longer sleeping on the floor like some sort of animal. After the night of her mother’s visit, he seemed to have grown quite comfortable spending most of the day in the large bed. He still didn’t leave the room, but progress was progress and she was glad to see it.

On the fifth evening after her mother’s visit, she went into the room just after sun set – he slept most of the day away – carrying his blood and smiling to herself. As soon as she entered though, her smile disappeared as she took him in. He was curled up under the covers, fast asleep but sobbing silently, tears tracing down his cheeks. This wasn’t the first night she had found him in such a state and she moved silently towards the bed, perching on the edge and watching him, her expression softening into sympathy. At least she had been able to get her own emotions under control lately, meaning she didn’t burst into tears every time he was in pain.

She reached out and ran her hand gently over his hair, knowing well that this was the best way to soothe him when he was like this. She murmured wordlessly, her fingers stroking through his hair as she tried to take away some of his pain. He shifted in his sleep, one arm wrapping around her lightly and his head resting just next to her thigh. She smiled sadly and continued her soft caress over his hair. It was getting long quickly, with almost an inch of dark roots already showing.



“Please,” he whispered in his sleep, pleading, “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. No, please.”

“Shh,” she murmured, running her hand through his hair again, frowning slightly.

“Didn’t want to… hurt you… wasn’t supposed to but I did… please.”

“It’s okay, Spike. Shhh.”

That was another achievement: he had stopped reacted badly to the name ‘Spike’. Calling him William had been strange for her, never having known him as such, and so she was more than happy to go back to ‘Spike’.

Suddenly, he jerked up out of his sleep, wide eyes looking around in a panic. For a moment he didn’t seem to recognise her and he backed away but after a few seconds he calmed and she reached out to take his hand.

“Dinner-time,” she said quietly, taking the bag of blood from the side table where she had placed it and holding it out to him. He took it and attacked it hungrily, turning slightly to one side, hiding from her as he fed. He finished in no time and handed it back to her and she got to her feet to dispose of it as he lay back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut.

“I had a horrible dream,” he murmured and she turned back to him, hardly surprised to find him alert. She said nothing but moved back to her perch beside him, watching him with worried eyes.

“I was stuck in a room with… with everyone I’d ever killed.”

He swallowed hard and she found herself reaching out to take his hand in hers. He jumped slightly at the touch and gave her hand a strange look, but then his hand tightened around hers.

“They wanted to hurt me. I didn’t want it… but I knew it was what I deserved.”

He was silent for a long pause and his eyes drifted to the window.

“My mother was there too,” he whispered, half to himself.



He turned back to her, pained blue eyes meeting hers.

“I tried to apologize but I knew it was no good.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she whispered, squeezing his hand ever so slightly in hers.

“Sometimes it helps,” he admitted, gaze slanted up at her with that shy look again.

They fell into a comfortable silence and she drew away, beginning to straighten up the room.

“Why are you still here, Slayer?”

She spun back to him in surprise.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to be alone?”

She was already halfway to the door when he spoke again, stopping her.

“I didn’t mean… Why are you still helping me?”

She turned back to him and met his bright gaze.

“Because I’m helping you until you get better. And you’re still not there yet.”

“Don’t know if I ever will be,” he murmured absentmindedly, eyes moving to his hands in his lap.

“You will be,” she remarked firmly, “I know it.”

He raised surprised eyes to hers and she smiled slightly.

“I know you, Spike. You’re strong. I know you can get through this.”

He was silent for a moment and then he gave her a sad smile.

“You’ve got more faith than me.”

“If Angel can get through it, so can you.”

She saw his expression darken momentarily but then he raised his chin.

“’Course I can.”

She was surprised by his sudden change of attitude but she had a feeling it was a sort of competitiveness with his grandsire. She decided to leave it though.

“I’m going to get some food. Do you want anything else?”

“I’m fine, Slayer.”

“Buffy,” she corrected with a slight smile.

“Buffy,” he repeated with a nod.

She smiled again and then left the room, knowing that his lucidity would not last much longer, and feeling surprisingly disappointed about it.





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