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“When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
And I've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me.”
Evanescence ~My Immortal~
”…Pandora slammed shut the lid of the box, trapping one creature inside, foreboding, the final spite. If it had flown free, everyone in the world would have known exactly what misfortunes were to happen to him throughout his life. No hope would have been possible and the race of men would have perished off the earth. For while it is possible to survive disaster, it is impossible to live without hope.”
Bernard Evslin ~An Encyclopedia of Greek Mythology~
“No fuckin' way,” Spike glowered at the somewhat fearful intern, arms crossed resolutely over his chest. “I'm bloody tired of all these tests! I'm friggin' awake! What more do you need to know?!”
“I…I was just told to bring you down to neurology, sir,” The intern stammered, “I…I think you have to ask them that…”
“Sod that,” Spike sniffed, “Not gettin' in that wheeled monstrosity, so you can just forget it.”
“Sir…please…I'm supposed too…” He yelped when Spike vamped out and snarled at him. He scrambled out of the room, leaving the wheelchair behind and Spike glared at it through his yellowed eyes.
“Jeez, man…up barely a day and already you're developing a reputation.”
Spike brightened considerably as Jake walked into his room, looking at him expectantly, “You get it?”
“One bottle of scotch,” Jake removed the bottle from his backpack, “Which you won't get until you get your skinny ass in the chair and down to neurology.”
Spike scowled, “Bloody `ell…even you're against me. Bloody conspiracy…”
“Yeah, yeah…everything's always about you,” Jake rolled his eyes as he rolled the chair next to the bed, and despite Spike being very uncooperative, managed to strong-arm him off of the bed and set him down in the chair. He bent to lift Spike's feet onto the footrests, “I know this hospital shit sucks, but hang in there. The faster they're done the testing, the sooner I can get you downstairs and into the heavy PT. Have you on your own feet in no time.”
“I don't bloody well know why I have to go there again,” Spike complained as Jake wheeled him out into the hall, careful to avoid the sunny spots, “I was MRI'd and catscanned and whatever the bloody hell else they do all yesterday. I'm soddin' surprised I'm not glowing by now.”
“Yeah, well,” Jake shrugged, “The doctors are pretty worked up over you. First time they had a vampire coma patient I guess…” Jake pulled up short when a man in a white uniform exactly like his walked towards them from the opposite side of the hallway, “Shit…”
“What?” Spike craned his head back to look up at Jake and then it came down again to follow his gaze. “Who's that?”
The man froze when he heard Spike's voice and he lifted his head slowly, eyes widening a bit before he could catch himself. “Taking…the patient for a walk, huh, Jake?” The man seemed friendly enough, if not sort of bland in a square-jawed type of way. Kind of reminded Spike of Captain Cardboard. Oooohhh…he'd have to ask Buffy about him when she visited later. Hopefully, one pleasant change in the last five years would be that Riley Finn got torn to pieces in the jungle.
“Taking him down to neurology,” Jake gritted his teeth, “Spike…this is John Mayers. He used to be your psychical therapist before I took over.”
“Nice to meet you, Spike…well, meet you while you're awake,” John offered his hand to Spike, but Jake pushed him forward.
“Sorry, gotta get going. Dr. Sangrio's waiting for him down in neurology,” Jake called over his shoulder.
“Jeez, mate,” Spike glanced over his shoulder to see John watching them both, an unreadable look on his face before Jake turned them down a corner. “What is he? Old boyfriend?”
“Not likely,” Jake snorted, a little uncomfortable with the subject. Not the boyfriend thing…just John in general. God…the guy was going to be hurting later when he found out that his girl was married to that ass. He swiftly changed the subject, “And how the hell did you know I was gay?”
“Didn't,” Spike replied cheerfully, “I was makin' fun of you. But thanks for the tip…gives me an excuse to use up all those shirtlifter jokes I was savin' up for the whelp.”
“Looking forward to it,” Jake replied absently before asking, “Do you remember what you said to me when you woke up?”
Spike frowned and tilted his head back, “Get me some fuckin' cigarettes you great hulking git?”
“No…no…before…it was when you first woke up…and then passed out again…” He shook his head when Spike stared at him blankly, “Never mind, you don't remember.” He loaded Spike onto the elevator.
“What did I say then?”
“Nothing important,” Spike huffed in irritation at the avoidance, “You just said `your dad.' That's all.”
“Huh...” Spike sounded bored, “Wonderfully interesting there, Susy.”
“I'm…what in the hell did you call me?” Jake lifted Spike's chair off the floor a fraction, “I will dump your ass out and leave you to the mercies of the nurses if you aren't nice.”
“Might like that,” Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, “If I wasn't spoken for, I'd love a taste of that lovely Nurse Wanda. She's a tasty morsal. All tits and curves.” Jake winced, and Spike caught the expression in the metal door which reflected everything but him. “What? Don't tell me that even you haven't snuck a peek down that cleavage…can see all the way down to Africa.”
“Actually, no, I haven't,” Jake replied, glad Spike had misinterpreted the wince, “She only undoes those extra two buttons for you.”
“Hmm…have to keep that in mind. Might be able to sweet talk her into getting me some extra jell-o with m'blood.”
Jake chuckled as the doors opened and he wheeled Spike out, meeting Dr. Sangrio in the hall. The intern that had been trying to get Spike downstairs before took one look at the vampire, `eeped,' and retreated. Spike just smirked with self-satisfaction.
“Congratulations, Jacob,” Dr. Sangrio said as he held open the door to the examination room for them, “You've just volunteered to make sure William gets where he needs to be,” He sent an amused look after the fleeing student doctor, “Word is already around the hospital that he's been trying to bite everyone else.”
“I wasn't trying to bite him,” Spike groused, “Just flashed a little fang…not m'fault the pansy-assed little git has a weak stomach.” He gave Dr. Sangrio a dirty look when he saw the MRI machine was already fired up, “I'm not bloody well getting in that thing again!”
“I'm afraid you have too,” Sangrio told him in a voice that brooked no arguments. “The technician who ran your tests yesterday fouled up the readings somehow. Don't worry, I'm personally overseeing it today and you won't have to do it again for a while longer.”
“Don't care,” Spike crossed his arms over his chest, “It's boring and loud…plus, I'm claustrophobic. This is very detrimental to my mental well-being, you know.”
“You can get in there voluntarily or Jacob can tie you up and stick you in there,” Dr. Sangrio replied, “Your choice, of course.”
“Hippocratic Oath, my arse,” Spike grumbled, rolling his eyes but he allowed Jake to lift him up and settle him into the machine. His head was encased in large, white plastic blocks, immobilizing him and straps were pulled taut across his body. He was starting to breath funny as Dr. Sangrio and Jake disappeared into the other room. He wasn't lying. He was claustrophobic and he really hated sitting in the MRI for so long, unable to move.
“William, try to relax. It'll be over rather quickly,” Sangrio's voice came over the intercom near his head.
“Relax, he says…like to see him relax while in the magnetic coffin, thank you very much.” Spike winced as the machine started to hum and click loudly, “Fuck.”
In the other room, Sangrio stared at the readings he was getting from the MRI, especially at the pictures the computer graphed out of his brain waves, colors filling the graphics of a normal human mind. “Hell…” Sangrio breathed after about twenty minutes, “The tech didn't foul up his readings…”
The MRI started to power down after thirty minutes and as the plastic gurney on which Spike was strapped was rolled out, Jake was there to help him off of it and back into his wheelchair.
“Well, Doc…you done with me yet?” Spike asked, trying to sound irritated over his shaky nervousness, “I want to go back to m'room, stare at Nurse Wanda's breasts and get pissed.”
“Uh…I think I need another MRI…”
“THE HELL!” Spike shouted angrily, “How in the fuck did you pass brain surgeon school if you bloody well can't operate that…that torture device!?”
“Um…Dr. Sangrio…I don't think he's up to it today,” Jake said apologetically, “Besides, he's got visitors coming in a little while. Maybe you should call someone up to look at the MRI if it's not working and we can try again later?”
“I'm fairly sure it's not the machine,” Dr. Sangrio waved for them to follow him and Spike angrily gripped the wheels and shoved off after him. Jake followed, hands resting on the push handles. “I've…I've just never seen these type of readings before, in humans or demons.”
“Have any vampires sat through one?” Spike asked in irritation, “I'm dead. Pretty sure that's going to affect the readings.”
“You're dead, yes…but your brain is not,” Sangrio informed him, “That's why decapitation kills the vampire, even if the heart is left intact. You cannot function without both of those organs. A vampire's EKG is not any different than that of a human, so I should be seeing…such unusual activity.” He pointed at one of the computer screens, where Spike could see a graphic of his brain lit up in all the colors of the rainbow. “A human and vampire only uses 10% of the brain, activity spread out through all of the lobes,” He brought up an image of another brain on the second computer. “That's the normal MRI of a healthy human male, approximately your mortal age. See the blue areas? That's what is commonly referred to as the `Dead Zone.' There is no activity in those areas, but when you look at your brain, side by side…”
“Shit…” Jake muttered, “He's lit up like a freaking Christmas tree…”
Spike leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly, “And that means what, exactly? I don't feel any smarter…”
“I'm not sure, exactly, what it means,” Dr. Sangrio admitted, “I've never seen anything like it. That's why I thought the tech screwed up your MRI yesterday. I have some colleagues in Columbia University though. They make a study of unusual brain patterns and they may have an answer for us. I'll send it through to them. In the meantime,” Dr. Sangrio straightened, “I want to do further tests, and I want you to pay attention…see if you notice any usual thought processes…”
“Um…there…there is one thing,” Spike said hesitatingly, “Something that happened yesterday…thought it was Red's doing…since she's a witch and all…and she's been in my head before…”
“What happened?”
“Her bird, Tara? She got injured after I was comatose, and when Red touched me, I saw it happening. Like I was seeing it through Willow's eyes and everythin'…feeling what she was feeling and all that rot…I was Willow. I knew what demon did it and I knew that Tara was mute before they told me…” He glanced at Sangrio, “It was like…like a vision. I blacked out and everything, didn't know what was going on around me while it was happening…”
Jake stared at Spike in some disbelief, “My dad died,” Spike glanced at him sharply, “Yesterday afternoon. About twenty minutes after you woke up.”
Sangrio stared at him in confusion, but realization slowly dawned on Spike's face, connecting the dots between what Jake told him early and what had occurred with Willow. “Bloody fuckin' hell…”
Jake quickly explained to Dr. Sangrio what they were speaking of, and the doctor looked irritated. “That's a lovely theory and all, but that sort of thing does not exist. I'm sure it was all coincidences…”
“Does exist,” Spike insisted, “My ex, Dru? She had visions…” Spike shrugged, “And it's like you said…we only use 10% of our brains…and I'm using how much right now?”
Sangrio glanced at his computer, his expression still bordering on disbelief, “About thirty percent…but….” He shook his head, “I'll try and have your scans analyzed as quickly as possible, William. I want to wait till we hear from them before we make any uneducated guesses,” He did, however, have to concede a little. “You will be provided some writing supplies, however. I want you to keep a journal and for you to record whenever you have another…incident.”
“Ooohh…an MRI everyday and homework. Well…bloody yip-friggin'-ee.” He quieted when Sangrio gave him a look, “Fine, fine…” He scowled, “Can I go now? Got company comin' and I have to make myself pretty.”
“You're going to need more time than you have then,” Jake replied, grinning when Spike growled. “Someone's a sensitive girl.”
“Shut up, you prat and push. All you're good for.”
Dr. Sangrio's frown remained on his face, as Jake and Spike, arguing good-naturedly the whole time, left him. He sat in the chair before the computers, staring at the results of Spike's brain scan. He brushed his fingertips at what should have been a dead zone, but was showing as much activity as the rest of his brain with a sort of awe. The things a person could do with ten percent were simply amazing and very nearly unexplainable most of the time. But with an extra twenty percent boost…damn, Sangrio thought in some awe, might actually get my name in that medical journal after all…
Spike was anxious, that much was apparent to Jake as he washed the soap out of Spike's hair. The playful banter them had dissolved into sullen silence on the part of the vampire. Jake tossed a clean towel at Spike's head as the vampire straightened, his longish hair dripping water down his shirtless back. Jake leaned against the wall as Spike vigorously rubbed his head with it.
“You a little freaked out too, huh?”
Spike peeked at Jake from beneath the hospital issue towel before shrugging his shoulders half-heartedly, “Not sure quite yet. There's the potential for freakage though…” He grimaced, “Actually…yeah…I gotta be pretty freaked out if I'm speaking Buffy.” Spike lowered the towel, “Uh…sorry about your father and all…”
“Yeah, me too,” Jake shook his head, “It was a heart attack…fast and quick…which is more than the old bastard deserved.” If Spike was surprised by the severity in Jake's tone, he didn't comment. “Anyway…besides this whole thing being freaky-deaky as all hell…it's kind of cool at the same time. I mean…if you can see the future and the past or whatever…that'll be great, right?” Jake grinned, “Just let me know if you see any winning lottery numbers, yeah?”
“I don't think it's all the great,” Spike replied as he pulled the OR scrub top over his head. Jake helped him with the pants, since the atrophied muscles in his legs were still refusing to cooperate. “You forget…I dated someone who had visions. Not a pretty sight…left her a gibbering mess most of the time,” His expression darkened, “She saw the darkness and ugliness in everyone and everything…if she weren't already insane, she probably would have killed herself in despair.”
“You're much too good-looking to be this pessimistic,” Jake replied, and grinned when a corner of Spike's lips turned up in bemusement, though he tried to hide it. “So, cheer the fuck up and let's get you spiffy for all those nubile young women that are going to be flooding in here pretty soon.”
“Yeah…I'm a right dandy in OR scrubs and paper slippers,” Spike said sarcastically, glaring down at his `clothing.'
“Hey, it was either that or the funky duck shorts from the gift shop,” Jake reminded him, “And believe me…no one wants to see those skinny ass chicken legs in shorts.”
“Your bedside manner sucks balls, mates,” Spike sniffed, insulted, “And excuse the bloody hell out of me if I didn't do my required daily regimen of crunches and pushups while in a soddin' coma. That was your job, Nurse Jake.”
“Physical therapist, not nurse,” Jake slapped him in the back of the head, “And that's gratitude for ya. This is already a thankless job without your whiny bullshit, thank you very much.”
“I'll make it up to you by not killing you once I'm on m'feet again,” Spike replied, and then his eyes widened when he heard the door to his room open and he leaned back to see Buffy and Dawn peeking their heads in. “Ack! Hair!”
“He'll be out in a second, girls,” Jake informed the pair before closing the bathroom door and watching in amusement while Spike tried to tame the tangled mop of curls on his head with a comb missing a few teeth. “And now there's a lost cause if I ever saw one.” Spike shot him a glare, and Jake became all seriousness when he saw the anxiousness and self-consciousness shimmering in his gaze. He was still thinking about Buffy not replying to his `I love you' the day before and the way she had only kissed him on the cheek.
“Here,” Jake took the comb from him and tilted Spike's head back to better tackle the tangles and used a liberal amount of mousse to slick the strands back away from his face. The hair at the back of his neck curled as it dried, but there was nothing Jake could do about that. He was gay, but that didn't make him a goddamn hairdresser. “All pretty again.”
Spike growled, but then added softly, “Thanks, mate.”
“Welcome,” Jake grinned, “I'll leave you to the ladies then…”
“Um…could you…could you stay?” Spike looked a little angry at his request, “It's bloody stupid…but…I need something familiar…”
“Hey…sure thing,” Jake glanced at his watch, “I can only stick around for about twenty minutes though. I have an outpatient meeting me down in the gym.”
“Thanks,” Spike huffed out a breath of relief and then steeled himself as Jake opened the door and wheeled himself out backwards, inwardly hating the ease with which he turned the chair around, balancing back on two wheels. He fucking hated wheelchairs, even if he loved the woman who had twice put him into one.
“Hey! There's m'girls,” Spike greeted cheerfully, all former traces of fear and wariness disappearing. He looked them over with a wide grin, “And pretty ones at that.”
Buffy flushed, looking down at her feet while Dawn grinned and practically threw himself into his arms for a tight hug. “God…I was almost convinced that you'd be back in the coma when I got here,” Dawn told him, tears standing in her eyes, “I missed you. Even if you look like shit.”
“Hey! You're not too old to take over my knee,” Spike said, “Watch the mouth, `bit,” His eyes softened, “Missed you too, pet.”
Dawn grinned at him before punching him in the arm, hard. “OW!”
“Don't you dare scare me like that again,” She scolded, “Ever!”
“Okay, okay,” Spike eyed her warily, as if expecting her to hit him again, “I'll keep that in mind.”
“You better,” Dawn glanced at Buffy over her shoulder and cleared her throat.
Buffy lifted her head, catching Dawn's eye and her flush deepened. It got even worse when she saw that Jake was staring at her fixedly, expectantly. Her gaze finally flitted down to Spike, who was looking at her with a small, shy smile, his head tilted to the side slightly. It breaks her heart, how sweet he can be, even with the danger sparkling in his eyes and the seductive curl of that wicked, wicked tongue behind his teeth. How sweet and utterly breakable he was. Not just physically…and oh…how hard she had learned that lesson…but his heart was hers, still was hers. Five years had passed, five years since he had been torn from her bosom, but for him, it might as well had been yesterday. For her, so much time had passed, she had waded through so much pain to get where she was now. Married…in love with her John…it maybe wasn't the same thrilling, passionate, vertigo, breath-stealing love that had once existed between her and Spike…but she was content where she was. She hated the bitterness that suddenly filled her, the anger at Spike for doing this to her. He had languished in a coma for five years…why did he have to wake up now and confuse the hell out of her?!
“Hey, Spike,” She greeted weakly, staying on the other side of the room, where he wasn't. This was a Spike-free zone…this was the safe-zone. This was where he wouldn't be able to remind her of all that had been lost after the accident, after all she had suffered after he left her, even though he had promised to never do it.
It hurt to see the cool ice that covered his eyes; she recognized far too well during the early days of their relationship. He was hiding now so that she couldn't hurt him. Oh, but she was going to do it anyway, eventually. As soon as she found the words, she would break him into pieces.
“I can't do this…” She didn't realize she had said it aloud until she saw the shock and confusion cross his face, and she bit her lip against a small sob as she turned and fled from the room.
Dawn swore inwardly as she turned back to Spike, who was looking wounded and confused and gave him a wan smile. “She's still in shock over the whole thing,” Dawn told him quietly, “You just got to give her time…”
Spike bit back a sarcastic retort as his brow furrowed before he jerkily started wheeling himself after Buffy, hoping she was still in the hospital. He was somewhat grateful when Jake took control of the wheelchair and without asking questions, pushed him out into the hallway.
Dawn sighed in resignation and sat down on the edge of Spike's bed and covering her face with her hands. She wanted to be angry at her older sister, but she couldn't help the pangs of sympathy that slipped through with the anger. Poor Buffy…she thought sadly, and really poor Spike…
“Time…bloody fuckin' hell…five years isn't enough time?” Spike grumbled beneath his breath as he wheeled himself onto the elevator. He and Jake had pretty much gone through the entire hospital looking for Buffy before Jake had to leave him to go meet his patient, and Spike had to admit that Buffy was probably long gone from the hospital by now…and since he didn't think becoming a roman candle on wheels was a good idea, he had to give up and head back to his room.
He was bloody tired. Emotionally and physically. He didn't want to sleep again though…he had wasted so much time sleeping. He groaned softly as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He moved a little to the side, smiling at a little girl who came on with her mother, holding on the woman's hand tightly as she peered at him with a shy smile. Spike leaned back in his chair, head turning forward again when he saw them.
Buffy was wrapped in the arms of that guy…John or James…that he had met earlier, crying on his shoulder. The man was saying something to her before he tilted her head up by the chin, and brushed a kiss across her lips. She smiled up at him…beautiful…stunning…before leaning up on her tiptoes, kissing him and deepening it.
“Mister…are you okay?” The little girl asked but Spike didn't hear her, and she frowned a little as she looked up at her mother, “Mommy…that man is crying…”
“Shh, honey…it's not nice to stare,” The mother drew her daughter to the other side of the elevator, respectfully turning her gaze away as Spike pressed his face into his hands with a small groan.
“You're a pain in my black ass, you know that right?!” Jake had been tearing out and about the hospital for the last six hours, looking for the wayward vampire. The entire place had been in an uproar…and all his friends had been freaked out that he had taken a walk into sunlight.
“Got a fag?” Spike asked without looking at him, his chair pulled up to the edge of the roof. “A smoke, you git…get your mind out of the gutter,” He added when Jake made a strangled nosie.
“Not on me, no,” Jake approached him cautiously, “You're not going to jump, are you?”
“Fuck, no,” Spike rolled his eyes as Jake came up to his side, “Wouldn't kill me…just hurt like fuckin' hell and break every bone in my body,” Spike glowered at the ground below, “Actually…might make me feel a little better…”
“What happened?” Jake asked quietly as he took a seat next to Spike's wheelchair, dangling his feet over the edge of the roof. After a few moments, Spike's chair shifted backwards and the vampire lowered himself to the ground. Jake held out his arm and allowed Spike to hang on as he scooted across the roof to sit with his legs dangling over as well.
“Why didn't you bloody well tell me?” Spike asked in irritation, “You knew that Buffy was…seeing him.”
“You mean John Mayers?” At Spike's nod, Jake sighed, “You only woke up yesterday, man…everyone thought it'd be best if we waited a while before telling you,” Jake winced, “And…John's a little more than her boyfriend, Spike…they're…they're married. I'm sorry…”
Spike hung his head, his breathing ragged as the pain tore through him, ripping his very being to shreds. He wanted to stand up and scream and howl at the moon and tear very existence up into a thousand billion points of bright, shimmering light that would burn and sear his flesh. His legs, however, did not obey the commands his brain gave them, and his only other recourse was to bury his face in his hands and sob out his sorrow ineffectually.
“FUCK!” Spike spat out in disgust as he wiped his arm across his eyes, hating himself for losing control in this way, especially in front of Jake. “You can tell Sangrio that there's no soddin' miracle in me wakin' up…the Powers that Be just wanted to have a good laugh at the pathetic mess I've become, no doubt. Probably sittin' upstairs and wanking off to m'misery as we speak.”
“Don't I know how that feels,” Jake replied wryly, “I know it's hard, Spike…but hell…she's just a woman…”
“There's no such thing,” Spike replied wearily, his voice devoid of any emotion, “And she is…was…more than that anyway.” He drew in a shaky breath, “I don't think I can do this…I can't…I'm not strong enough. Everything's…wrong and different. I missed so bloody much. I mean…I never got to shake down the Nibblet's boyfriends…never got to see her gettin' ready for the prom…never got to see her graduate. She's all grown up now…and…and Buffy's married and…and Giles is gettin' laid on a regular basis…” He shook his head slowly, “It's all bloody wrong…”
Jake didn't reply to that because, really, what could he possibly say that would make Spike feel any better? He was no psychiatrist, that was for sure; he could only sit there and make sure Spike didn't decide to take a header off the roof. Another blow to the head could put him in a coma permanently and to a heartbroken guy, that could very well prove an appealing prospect.
Spike exhaled shakily as he leaned back on his hands, tilting his head up towards the moon and closing his eyes. “Think I need a bloody drink…”
“Oh…yeah,” Jake removed the bottle of scotch from his pocket that he had previously used to bribe Spike down to neurology with. “I did remember to bring this at least.”
Spike smiled faintly as he took the bottle and unscrewed the cap. Jake watched in some admiration as the vampire downed half of it in one go, but then made a face “Jesus, man…that's about forty bucks worth of booze right there.”
“Sorry,” Spike handed the bottle to Jake, “Good brand though…you do have some taste, even if your hair suggests otherwise.”
“My hair is perfectly fine,” Jake sniffed as he took a small hit from the bottle, “You're the one who looks like Shirley freaking Temple.”
“Shut the fuck up, mate and stop pussy-lipping the bottle…getting your spit all over it. Bloody pansy.” They lapsed into a companionable silence, “Did the Slayer leave?”
“Buffy? Yeah…they all left an hour or two ago. Visiting hours over and all. Buffy seemed pretty broken up when she found out you were missing,” Jake turned his head to glance at Spike's profile, “They were all pretty freaked out, actually. That one guy…kind of cute in a Village People type way, he was saying that maybe you had walked out into the sun, and she almost tore him a new one right then and there.”
“Hmm…did he sound gleeful about the prospect of me being burned to ashes in screaming agony?” Jake nodded, “Ah…that'd be the whelp, Xander, then,” Spike sounded speculative, “Wonder what happened `tween him and Anya…last I saw, they were goin' strong and about to get married. I just heard he left her at the altar…the stupid git. Like anyone else would have him but a crazy ex-demon.”
“Got me there. I saw her at John and Buffy's wed-“ Jake cursed when Spike looked away sharply. “Fuck man, sorry…I didn't mean…”
“S'kay,” Spike waved him off, “M'not some delicate little flower, mate. You can mention the e-ex without me havin' a breakdown.”
“Spike…you just found out she was married a couple minutes ago,” Jake pointed out with a roll of his eyes, “You're not required to act all manly yet.”
“Yeah…” Spike sighed, taking a deep breath. “Is she happy, you think? At least…that you can tell?” Spike lowered his eyes, “Does he make her happy?”
“I think so…yeah,” Jake admitted softly, “Sorry…”
“Yeah,” Spike shook his head. “I love her…with everything that I am…” He made a face, “Which means I get to be the big man. Fuckin' hate that,” He added softly, “But it'll be far worse if she wasn't in my life at all…”
“What? You're going to try the friends thing?” Jake asked in disbelief.
You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag and you'll hate each other till makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends…
“Famous last words, mate,” Spike muttered beneath his breath before glancing at Jake, who was staring at him in confusion. “Nothing else to do, is there? Doubt very much she's goin' to give up her picket fences, possible little Buffy-brats and her precious normal life for a lowly creature of the darkness she happened to have a thing for five years ago,” Spike sighed heavily again, “And s'not fair of me to ask her too either. M'not a part of that dream anymore.”
“Hmmm…” Jake and Spike sat together in silence for several minutes. “You want me to ask Nurse Wanda to give you a sponge bath tomorrow?”
Spike glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow, “You have to ask?”
Giles sat half-reclined on a tombstone, watching as Buffy fought with a vampire, none of the usual fire and passion in her moves or banter as she blocked punches and kicks from the rather tall demon. He frowned slightly when she unintentionally missed a few clearly open shots to the chest, which would have ended the fight then and there. He was about to step in himself, readying a stake, when she finally slammed the vampire against a mausoleum and drove Mr. Pointy into his chest with enough force that Giles was surprised she hadn't shattered the point against the stone at the vampire's back.
“That was a sloppy kill,” Giles observed quietly, watching as Buffy caught her breath. “You exerted much too much energy.”
“Thanks, Giles…I'm fine,” Buffy replied sarcastically as she straightened, “I'm not at all hurt from where that undead bastard kicked me in the side of the head.”
“No need to be snappish,” Giles sniffed, “I was merely making an observation of your poor performance.”
“Fine, Buffy sucks…this is Buffy Sucks day…” She picked up her weapon bag, “I get that. People don't have to keep reminding me. Between you and Dawn, I've met my sucking quota,” She made a face, “Forget I said that. We both don't need the imagery.”
“Ah…well, I've found I've become immune to the imagery,” Giles smiled fondly, “It's becoming much more difficult for Anya to shock me anymore. I think she's quite put-out by it.”
“Huh…yeah…that's great,” Buffy replied absently as she glanced around the graveyard, itching for something else to care.
“They'll find him.”
Buffy started in surprise and glanced at Giles, “Huh?”
“Spike…the hospital will find Spike,” He clarified.
“I know they're going to find him. He's in a wheelchair…he's not going to get very far,” Buffy said with a beleaguered sigh, “I'm still stuck on the whole `whoa…Spike's awake' and `how in the hell am I going to tell him I'm a married woman now' thing.”
“Spike's a big boy,” Giles said comfortingly, “He'll get over it.”
“Hellllooo…Giles…this is Spike. He of the endlessly unrelenting pursuit of all things Buffy,” She reminded him, “He of the drunken, sloppy crying fits that almost get all my friends killed because his girlfriend dumped him. He of the chipless nature who was only remaining a good boy because he loved me.” Her face fell, “God…I…I don't want to stake him, Giles, if he goes back to the slaughter. It was bad enough losing him five years ago…but…he was sorta alive, you know? He wasn't with me…but he was still here. I can't make him not here…I just can't do it…”
“I think he's less likely to go on a killing spree then to sit outside your house all night,” Giles said, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze, “Or do I have to recite your `Spike is good now, so stop wigging out,' speech?” His smile widened, “Or if you prefer, I do have it on tape. It was one of your better speeches. Much more rousing than the `touch my sister and die' one.”
“I know, I know,” Buffy shook her head, “I'm just being worst-case scenario Buffy. What else is new?” She realized with some shame that she was sniffling and crying again.
She hadn't cried this much over Spike since the accident…or since John proposed to her. She could still remember fleeing the restaurant, and breaking one of her heels in the sidewalk. She had limped the entire way there and collapsed across Spike's body, sobbing and begging with him to wake up for her…to come back and love her again. He, of course, didn't, and two days later, she was affianced. Less than six months later, she was Mrs. John Mayers.
No one had questioned her when she had fast-tracked the wedding, not letting anyone know that she wanted it over and done with as quickly as possible. Like ripping off a band-aid; painless and fast was the best. She had cried on her wedding day, the happy bride, but she hadn't cried out of happiness. She had cried for the groom who was not there to stand beside her.
She had been sure she had finally put Spike behind her, after all of these years. She was happy…John was a wonderful man who loved her more than life itself. Spike was a part of her past, wasting away in a hospital bed, but now…he was back.
“Shh…Buffy, dear…it's all right,” Giles wiped her tears from her face and she collapsed into his arms with a sob.
“God, Giles…it's…it's not fair…I can't…I can't choose…I can't choose between him and John…I just can't…”
Giles could only tighten his hold on her; in this instance, he was horribly ill-equipped to offer her guidance and he felt the her pain in the very marrow of his bones. “Everything shall work itself out, eventually,” He could only offer this hollow comfort. “You must do whatever makes you happy, Buffy…”
“But what if I don't know what will make me happy?”
Giles had no answer for that either.
“This is very upsetting,” Anya crossed her arms over her chest as she peered down at her husband, “Buffy being sad about Spike is making you sad and now you're making me sad because there is a noticeable lack of orgasms.” She held up a pill bottle and rattled it, “As it is, I'm going to have to wait forty minutes for the blue `Anya Happy' pill to kick in, and I'm feeling frisky, so you should probably take two…or even three.”
Giles couldn't help but smile in bemusement as he looked up from his book, raising an eyebrow, “Bad enough that you've named my penis, but now you're naming my Viagra? You're a strange woman.”
“Yes, but that is one of the many things that you love about me,” Anya stated matter-of-factly, “Now take off your pants, I'm ovulating.”
Giles laughed, setting his book down finally. “That is actually one of your better come-on lines, my darling.” He looked up at her with soft eyes, taking in the extra waves in her hair and the pink silk robe she was wearing. “That's new.”
“Yes, it is,” Anya smiled brightly, “As are the garter belts and crotchless panties.”
“Right…” Giles' mouth went dry as Anya shed the robe, exposing what she very nearly wasn't wearing beneath it.
“Hurry and take your pills so that we can…” Anya squealed when Giles grabbed her and practically tossed her onto the bed. She bounced on the hard mattress, and she winced, remembering how much she hated the beds at the Sunnydale Arms motel. However, she couldn't find herself caring about the mattress as Giles stripped off his clothing hurriedly, his gray eyes snapping with desire as he stared down at her.
“I don't bloody well need the pills,” He gave a growl before pouncing on top of her and Anya sighed happily. Her Rupert was very virile for a nearly fifty one and a half year old man.
She snuggled up to him much, much later, combing her fingers through the damp, curly hairs on his chest, loving how the dark and gray hairs mingled so well together. “Are we going to try and see Spike again tomorrow?” Anya asked, “Moira is very eager to finally meet `Uncle William.'”
“If you'd like,” Giles replied, “We'll pick her up from Willow and Tara's on our way.” He pressed his face into her light brown hair, inhaling her scent with a soft sigh, “If it weren't for the Hellmouth, I might actually consider moving back here…just for the free baby-sitting.”
The move from Sunnydale back to England had been hard on both of them, but they had decided that the last thing they wanted to do was bring up their child in such a dangerous environment. He only regretted it a little though. He missed Buffy and the others, of course, but they were adults now with their own lives, and plus, things had always been a bit awkward in the group after Anya blurted out, in front of everyone including Xander, that she was pregnant.
Up to that point, their relationship had been a secret, but after Giles was roused from a dead faint, it had been fairly obvious who the father was, though Anya hadn't announced that little fact. Even though Xander had looked about ready to kill him, and Buffy had stared at him with a `ick! Giles had sex?!' face and Willow babbling while Tara tried to keep from laughing, and Anya staring at him in fear, as if afraid he was going to renounce all responsibility in the fathering of the child…it had still been the best day of his life. Well…almost the best day. Only second to the actual birth of his daughter. He had thought he would never have a family and resigned himself to such, but Anya had given him that beautiful miracle. He had married her two days later and now his life was full. And it would be even more so when they had conceived their second child. He was desperately hoping for a boy to carry on the Giles name, but he would still just be as thrilled with another little girl.
Still…with all this happiness in his life…he couldn't help but feel for the turmoil in Buffy's…
“You're doing it again,” Anya sat up a little and gave him a stern look, “You're not allowed to feel sorry that you're happy because Buffy is unhappy.” She swatted his stomach, “Do not besmirch our happiness. You're ruining the post-coital cuddle.”
His lips turned up in a smile, “I'm sorry, dear…you're completely right.”
“I always am,” Anya sniffed but she snuggled back up to him, shifting one leg between his thighs, “You should learn that by now.”
“Yes, but it's so much more fun when you constantly remind me,” Giles teased, curling a strand of her hair around one of his fingers before kissing it. “I love you, darling.”
Anya smiled contently, “Love you too, Rupie.” She giggled when he huffed out a breath of annoyance at the name. “Well…you try to make a pet name out of Rupert. It's such a silly name.”
“You said it was a nice name!”
“Yes, but I was trying to seduce you at the time…I will say anything for sex; even perjure myself. And you have to admit, it worked. You threw me over that counter and took me like a drunken frat boy hopped up on rufies.”
“Aw…” Giles' eyes glazed a little as he relieved the memory of their first coupling, “Lovely imagery, darling…”
“I thought so,” Anya agreed and then sighed happily again when Giles rolled over and kissed her, his hands tracing the edges of one of her breasts. She was starting to think that the prescription for the little blue pill was a complete waste of money.
Spike was very much composed when his visitors came the next morning. He had slept the night before only because Jake had sufficiently gotten him smashed and he had passed out on the roof. He didn't wake up until morning and in his hospital bed. Jake wouldn't be there when they came again, so Spike had to fly solo for this one, though he wished he had his new found friend at his back. It had been so long since he had one just for his own, and it felt…nice.
Plus, he could've used a little talking down as he waited for everyone to arrive. If they came. He wasn't so sure they would, since he had flaked out the day before to sit under a overhang on the roof until the sun went down and mope. But no more moping for him…he was strong, he was confident, he was…not prepared for a huge powder blue teddy bear coming through the door.
“The hell?”
“Hey, Spike…oof!” Willow got a little stuck on her way through the door and she grinned sheepishly as she shoved her huge friend through with Tara's help. “We brought you prezzies!”
“A prezzie with its own bloody zip code,” Spike added as the huge stuffed animal was dropped onto his lap. “Ummm…thanks.”
“Actually, it's from Moira,” Willow told him, “She saw it at the mall last night and she really wanted to get it for Uncle William. We caved into the utter cuteness that is Moira.”
“Uncle who? And who's Moira again?”
“Me!” A small, bubbly voice announced and Spike craned his neck around the bear, raising an eyebrow when he saw Giles and Anya walk in, swinging a little girl between the two of them, pigtails and hair ribbons flying. “Me Moira!”
“And you got me the teddy?” Spike couldn't help but grin at the little girl who already looked so much like Anya, but she had her father's gray eyes and light brown hair. She was also a cute little snippet. “Thank you.”
“Welcome!”
Spike was relieved of the bear by a smiling Tara and he offered her a smile in greeting before his attention was grabbed by the little girl climbing onto his lap. He raised an eyebrow; she was obviously a bold little thing, just like her mother. “My mommy and daddy say you sweeping for this many years!” She held up five fingers proudly, and then asked, “Why you sweep that long? Were you tiwed?”
“Very tired, snippet,” Spike answered, his nervousness and foul mood fading, caving into the utter cuteness that was Moira. She was completely fascinating him at the moment. This was probably the first time since he had been turned that a small child had sat fearlessly in his lap, chattering away at him excitedly.
“That's silly,” Moira wrinkled her nose, “I wouldn' wanna sweep that long.” She leaned far over to inspect the wheels of his chair and he laid a hand across her back instinctively to keep her from falling, “Your chair has weels…can I wide on your chair?”
“Moira…” Giles colored a little in embarrassment, but Spike merely shot him a reassuring grin before doing a quick turn about the room, the little girl hanging off his neck and squealing excitedly when he did a wheelie.
“They are too cute for words,” Willow said to Tara, who nodded in agreement, and then signed at Willow. She giggled, “Hey, Spike…Tara wants to know if she can have a ride next.”
“Make it a point to never turn down a lady in need of a ride,” Spike flicked his eyebrows at the couple. Giles cleared his throat and Spike was reminded of the girl in his lap. “Right…gotta watch the mouth around the mite,” He shot a mischievous look at Anya, “You must be about ready to burst.”
“You have no idea,” Anya agreed with a smile, “It's nice to see you not comatose, Spike. You looked like a Seattle grunge rocker for a little while. You were always in need of a shave and you don't look good with facial hair.”
“Well…at least some things never change,” The way Spike said it made it sound like a compliment, and for him, it was. Anya beamed.
“Where did you get off to yesterday?” Giles asked, “Moira was most disappointed when she was unable to see you.”
“Sorry `bout that,” Spike's mood was dampened a little, “I needed some time to myself to think some things through…”
“You know,” Willow interpreted for Tara with a frown, “He knows what?”
“As astute as ever, Glinda,” Spike smiled at Tara faintly, “She means I know about Buffy becomin' a missus while I was sleeping.”
“Oh...Goddess…did Jake tell you?” Willow glowered, “I'll have to talk to him…”
“Kind of figured it out myself when I saw her inhaling the lungs of some glorified male nurse on the second floor,” Spike replied darkly. Moira looked up at him and seeing that he was sad looking, kissed his cheek.
Startled, Spike glanced down at her and grinned, “Wanna come with me and see if we can con one of the nurses out of some Jell-O?” He asked, his tone cheerful again, even though his eyes were anything but. “Think with that cute mug of yours, we might actually succeed.” He lowered his voice, “'Sides…think the `adults' wanna talk about Uncle Spike without him around.”
“Yes, we do,” Anya didn't see any point in denying it, “Just make sure she doesn't get jell-o all over her dress,” Anya then added, as if it was an afterthought, “Oh…and make sure nothing eats her or I'll kick your ass, wheelchair or not.”
Spike saluted her, and with an excited squeal from Moira, shot out into the hall, almost taking out the floor nurse on the way. Giles shook his head in bemusement, having a hunch that Uncle Xander was fast going to lose his place as Moira's favorite de facto uncle.
“Well…he's taking it better than I thought he would,” Willow said in some surprise. “Or do you think he's not cursing us out because of Moira?”
“Moira,” Giles and Anya said in unison, and Tara nodded her agreement.
“Oh…well…” Willow shrugged, “I think he's still taking it pretty good.”
“Yes...if you discount the smell of liquor,” Anya replied, “In Spike-speak, off thinking means off drinking.”
“There is that as well…” Giles frowned at Anya, “Did we just send our daughter off to get jell-o with a drunk vampire?”
“Oh, of course not!” Anya shook her head, “I would never do that. He's just a little hung-over.” At Giles' startled look, she told him reassuringly, “Moira's fine with him. Besides, I think he's enjoying the attention from her. Moira loves being anyone's little darling and his mood can only improve with prolonged exposure to her.”
“Prolonged exposure to who?” Buffy asked as she walked into the hospital room, and sat down a paper bag by the door. She looked a little frightened when she saw Spike wasn't there, “He's not back yet?!”
“He's here. He's getting Jell-O with Moira,” Giles told his Slayer, reassuring her. “He's perfectly all right. Just a little…”
“He's a little pissed because he saw you making out with your husband yesterday,” Anya informed Buffy bluntly, interrupting her husband. She loved him to death…but really…he was no good at delivering bad news without beating around the bush forever. It was never good to prolong these things. “But the good news is that you don't have to think of a gentle way to break it to him anymore.”
“Oh…my…God…” Buffy covered her eyes with one hand, “Why did I get out of bed this morning? I should have known today was going to suck worse than yesterday. It's like…Divine Law or something.” She lifted her hand, “How'd he take it?”
“He's dealing the only way he knows how,” Willow said.
“He got drunk!? He's in a hospital! Where would he get liq-should we have someone check the rubbing alcohol supply?”
“I very much doubt Spike drank rubbing alcohol,” Giles rolled his eyes, “Otherwise, he wouldn't be hung-over…he'd be having his stomach pumped. And I doubt very much that he's stupid enough to attempt such a thing.”
“Well…okay…” Buffy took a few deep breaths, “The worst is over…we…we just have to deal with the awkward stage…”
“Everything before wasn't awkward?” Anya asked in genuine curiosity, “I would think that with you being married and unable to shag him into the nearest available hard surface would…” She caught a look from Giles, and she smiled brightly, “Awkward, you say? Do tell.”
Willow and Tara exchanged a look of bemusement, both noting that Anya's vocabulary had taken on a bit of a British slang, even if she hadn't picked up the tactful manners of Giles' Mother Country.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder when she heard the squeal of tires and barely managed to get out of the ride before Trouble and Trouble 2 came shooting through. It looked like the Jell-O mission had failed, but they had succeeded in freeing up some pudding, chocolate for Spike and butterscotch for Moira.
Spike didn't quite meet Buffy's gaze as he spun to a stop while at the same time, guarding his prize from Moira's sticky fingers. “I've been recruited in the kitten crusade,” Spike announced with a grin, and Giles groaned.
“Not again,” Giles groaned, “Moira, honey…no kittens. You're allergic.”
“I've been told she'd settle for a hamster,” Spike informed him, “She's got quite an argument for the hamsters.”
“They cute,” Moira said simply, and Spike's grin widened.
“Can't argue with that logic…and hey!” Spike lifted his bowl of pudding over his head, growling at Moira playfully, “Hands away from the pudding, snippet.”
He'd make such a good father, Buffy thought wistfully and then shook her head to dispel her mind of all such thoughts. She had decided…it was no good to think of how things might have been, just how things were now…and why was there a huge blue teddy bear beside Spike's bed?
She felt Tara's hand on the small of her back, and she glanced at her, smiling faintly at the tragically silent woman. Tara offered her a look of comfort in return, and when she turned her attention back to Spike and Moira, she caught a flash of blue aimed her way before they were turned away again. So…avoidance was apparently a stage as well. Hopefully, he'd substituted that with denial.
She bit her lip, wishing that everyone else would leave so that they could speak, but she wasn't heartless enough to deprive Spike of Moira's company. Not yet, anyway. On the bright side, it did give her a chance to think of what she should say; she had a tendency to say all the wrong things when she was flustered. She didn't want to hurt him any more than he was already hurt.
“So…Rupes, tell me all I've been missin' in the Motherland,” Spike asked, “The Queen still clingin' to life with a tenacity that makes that Charlie prat weep?”
“No, actually, she died a year ago. William is now King and Britney Spears is Queen,” Spike's eyes widened in horror and Giles chuckled.
“That wasn't nice,” Anya scolded Giles, “You're frightening the poor boy,” She glanced at Spike, “The old bag is never going to die and the throne is still save from Britney.”
“That was…absolutely brill, Watcher,” Spike shook his head in admiration, “Almost sent me right back into that coma.”
Giles smiled with some pride before turning serious again. “Have you been watching the news at all since you woke up?”
“Some,” Spike replied, and then admitted, “It's still a bit much for me to handle. When did we start a Cold War with Russia again?”
“It's not really a Cold War,” Willow replied, “Because…well…they're not Communist anymore. And we started getting pissed at them during the Middle Eastern conflict in 2002-2003, and it pretty much got worse after we tried to use airbases in Russia to go into North Korea…” Spike was starting to look a little lost again and Tara signed something at Willow. “Oh…right…I almost forgot,” Willow glanced at Spike again, “Tara's been buying those History Channel tapes…you know, the `Year in Review' ones? She has 2000 through 2004…'cause…you know…2005 isn't over yet, so you might be on your own for that, but at least you'll know what's going on when you watch CNN…”
“Thanks, pets…I'll appreciate that,” Spike gave his head a shake.
“Political, for both England and the US, things have been a bit strained lately,” Giles informed him, “Think London during the late eighties, early nineties…”
“Ouch…that good, huh?”
“We moved into the country,” Anya replied, and mimed covering her ears. Spike cupped his hands around Moira's head and the little girl pouted. “Apparently, terrorists don't bother bombing sheep,” She scowled, “Even if Rupert constantly insists on doing stupid things like going to work.”
“She's a little worried because a government building a few blocks from Council headquarters was bombed a year ago,” Giles explained off Spike's confused look, “She doesn't think I'm safe.”
“You're not,” Anya looked about to say something else, but caught herself in time. This was hardly the place to bring up an old argument between them, especially when she kept losing it because Giles kept on bringing up the stupid fact that they need money to survive and he got money from his job. Stupid human logic. “Let's tell him about the apocalypse you averted all by yourself!”
“I hardly…” Giles colored a little, “It was an accident.”
Willow giggled, “It was pretty funny. He was speeding through Sunnydale to get Buffy to the beach after he had misread a prophecy. He told her that this demon who was going to bring eternal darkness was going to be risen on the Mouth of Hell, but it actually said from the mouth of a shell. They were on the old beach highway and he ran over the cult that was going to raise it, but they didn't find out until two days later, when we couldn't figure out why the demon hadn't risen at all. We went back to the beach during the day and there was a bunch of these Smurf-sized demons, in a big ole spatter in the middle of the road and there were demon chunks all over the wheels of Giles' car. And also, the demon wasn't going to bring eternal darkness so much as bring the poor, nocturnal demons into a world where there was eternal darkness. It was like their version of heaven.”
“Yes, but Rupert thought he was going to avert the apocalypse, so it still counts,” Anya defended Giles, who was looking rather embarrassed.
“You ran over a horde of Gl'arkinakki'ar demons? They're an endangered species, you know…” Spike said with a chuckle.
“Actually, they're extinct now,” Anya patted Giles' shoulder, “He destroyed an entire race of demons with his car.”
“Progress is hell on the Hellmouth,” Buffy finally spoke up, the wallflower routine starting to get very old. Spike glanced at her briefly, before dropping his eyes to the smile on Moira's face. He grinned back at her, not looking at Buffy as he asked, “So, what's new with you, Slayer?” Besides absolutely everything…
“Oh, you know…same ole,” Buffy answered with a wan smile, “Kicking ass on a nightly basis, saving the world. I actually have a job now…I teach self-defense at the Y four times a week. Not exactly the big bucks, but I get by.” She cleared her throat then in embarrassment. “And umm…I…I owe you some money. Your lawyer opened up your bank accounts to Dawn and I…and…”
“Forget it,” Spike waved his hand dismissively, “S'not important. Doubt even you and your shoe fetish could have put that much a dent in m'funds.”
“No...there's still a lot left…but I feel really bad about…” Paying for my wedding with your money, paying off the house and car…
“Forget it,” Spike glanced up at her, and she almost flinched at the injured look in his eyes, as if he was insulted by her wanting to pay him back. His gaze softened after a few seconds, “'m not going to begrudge you anything you needed or wanted for the past five years, Buffy. S'long as you're happy.”
Okay…why do I have the feeling that he's not talking money anymore?
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Buffy went to grab the paper bag she had brought in with her, “I brought you some real clothes so you can get out of those ugly scrubs, and…” She removed a shiny metal thermos, “Mom's cocoa, her special recipe.” She smiled at him sadly as she removed a bag of marshmallows as well, “Didn't want them to get soggy.”
“You're an angel,” Spike smiled at her wanly, his eyes couldn't hide the hurt in his eyes over her having moved on, but he was at least trying to make it easier on her. His fingers brushed against hers and she felt the energy that had always crackled between them flare up. She flushed a little and found the room was suddenly too close but Spike hurriedly withdrew his hand and the thermos, eyes averted as he wheeled backwards to set it aside for a little later. He opened the bag of little marshmallows right away and started to share them out with Moira. He was apparently determined to get her as sugared up as possible.
“Hola,” Jake peeked his head into the room, grinning when he saw the little girl on Spike's lap being spoiled beyond belief. It was too damn cute. “Heh…yes! Blackmail material, sweet, sweet blackmail. And that's one hell of a bear, Spike…it yours?”
“Bite me, Susy,” Spike shot back with a glare as Jake poked the fuzzy blue monstrosity, “Gift from the mite.”
“Suurreee it is. Poor Spikey…can't sweep without his widdle teddy…”
Spike growled and Giles barked out a laugh, “Congratulations, Jake…I think you're the only other person besides Buffy who can keep up with Spike's mouth.”
“Yeah, well…he's lucky I'm pretty fond of his honky ass,” Jake grinned at Spike when there was another growl, “You're in a mood today.”
“Don't you have other patients to irritate?” Spike asked in irritation.
“Yeah, but lucky me, I got put in charge of the irritable English Patient,” Jake looked apologetically at everyone else, “Apparently, the cafeteria staff were not amused by your harassing them for pudding.”
“Oh Lord…” Giles covered his eyes with his hand, “What did he do with my daughter?”
“Relax, Watcher…she was never in any danger,” Spike defended himself, “She was my front, is all.”
“Apparently, he had her dancing and singing the teapot song while he stole two bowls of pudding,” Jake rolled his eyes, “Guy is rich as all hell, but he has to steal a dollar's worth of dessert. It's pathetic. And a completely irresponsible use of a cute kid.” Jake amended his statement a few seconds later, “Actually…you did have the right idea when you swung past the gynecology wing. You know those women put out…” The statement was meant with silence and he glanced around, “Well…I thought it was funny.”
“You are never allowed alone with my child again,” Giles said. “You're a worse influence than Anya.”
“I was not trying to pick up women. The mite just wanted to see the babies…not my fault that the OB/GYN is near the nursery…and that women are suckers for a man with a brat and no wedding ring. I'm a victim of circumstance, obviously.”
“Yes…I can see that. It's not at all like when Rupert used Moira to chat up the lovely lady with the huge breasts at the grocery store,” Anya replied, no anger in her voice. There was also some doubt as to whether or not she was being sarcastic.
“Anya, for the last time, I was not chatting her up, she was merely asking me if I'd prefer paper or plastic…” Giles sighed, “Oh…never the bloody mind.”
“So…what? You're here to put the breaks on m'chair?” Spike scowled at Jake, “Like to see you try it.”
“Oh yes…the threats from the short white boy in the wheelchair. Real scary,” He moved behind Spike and whispered in his ear, “You got an MRI and a meet with the doc in twenty. I'll come back for you then.”
Spike nodded slowly, grateful for Jake's discretion. While everyone else would probably think nothing of it, Giles would probably question the need for another battery of tests. The man was irritatingly observant. As it was, Giles was looking after Jake curiously as he left.
“Do you have any idea when you're getting out of here?” Buffy asked softly, drawing his attention back to her.
“No, not really…” Spike replied as Moira finally clambered out of his lap to go and play with the powder blue teddy she had gotten on his behalf. She was getting powdered sugar from the marshmallows all over it, but Spike far from minded. “I start my physical therapy soon, to work on the muscles that atrophied while I was out, and accordin' to Jake, it'll probably be awhile before I'm properly on my feet.”
“Is it really necessary for you to remain here for that?” Giles asked with a frown, “I understand staying here for a week or two more…but wouldn't you be able to come to physical therapy on an out-patient basis?”
“Umm…yeah…” Spike shifted uncomfortably, dropping his gaze, “But…I don't `zactly have anywhere else to go besides the crypt and it's hardly wheel-chair accessible…”
Giles could have kicked himself for being so damned thoughtless, but all was not lost…Anya was giving him a look that promised he would pay for that tactlessness later. He had completely forgotten that Spike was living with Buffy and Dawn at the time of the accident. Buffy was obviously feeling just as ashamed, as she was looking at her feet again. “Uh…we-well…I…”
Spike snorted, “Relax, Watcher. I got a pretty sweet gig here. All the jell-o I can eat…nurses wantin' to be givin' me sponge baths…s'not that bad. `Sides…not like there's ever any real shortage of real estate in this bloody town. Everyone around here dies and leaves a fully furnished flat behind.”
“Or, if you ever need a place to stay, Tara and I have tons of space,” Willow offered, “Our house is all one floor though, so yay for wheelchairs, and we'd get Xander to build you a ramp for the front porch…”
“I'll think about it,” Spike replied, while his mind was screaming `hell no!' The Wiccans were sweet, really…but after a few days of their lovey-doveying about the place and he'd slit his wrists. Just because he was being the mature adult about Buffy being no longer his didn't mean that he could take watching other couples being all in love just yet…let alone living with them. Oh…sweet Jesus…he needed a drink. “Thanks for the offer, though…'ppreciate the sentiment. You're sweet.”
Willow and Tara beamed in unison, and he nearly blew chunks. The Wiccan-Love aura was already massively fucking with him.
“We should get going,” Giles slid a look at Buffy, who was starting to look antsy and annoyed, “We'll see you tomorrow, Spike.”
Moira pouted as Anya picked her up off of the teddy, and waved at Spike, “Bye-bye!”
“Be seein' you, mite,” Spike waved good-bye at the happy family.
“We better head out too,” Willow said, taking Tara's hand in her own. Spike visibly tensed when the two Wiccans bent to kiss his cheek, but he relaxed when the incident from the day before did not reoccur. It gave him a surge of unexpected hope. Perhaps it meant that yesterday was a fluke or more than likely, he had been right with his first theory that Willow had accidentally planted the image in his head. And the thing with Jake's father was a complete coincidence. Hell…he didn't even remember whether or not he had actually foreseen his death…he could have been talking about anyone's father or even his own, the useless, stupid pillock who was hopefully being brutally sodomized by demons with barbed dicks in Hell.
“Um…Spike? You're giggling…”
Spike was ripped out of his little dysfunctional fantasy when he noticed that the Wiccans were gone and Buffy was the only one left in the room. Shit…this wasn't good. “I wasn't giggling,” He eyed her a little warily, his hands resting lightly on the wheels of his chair. He was very much prepared to make a run…eh…roll for it if things got too awkward. “Anyway, thanks for stoppin' by…guess I'll be seein' you later…”
“We need to talk, Spike,” Buffy said softly, not raising to the bait. She sat on the edge of his bed and regarded him through solemn hazel eyes. He had to avert his, unable to keep up the cheerful façade. Not when her eyes bore into the very depths of his being, trying to see past the wall he had tried to erect over his emotions. Too bad it was only picket fence sized and easily broken up into stakes to pierce his heart.
“Don't think that's a good idea right now, Slayer,” He wheeled over to his bedside table and liberated the pack of smokes hidden beneath a Rolling Stone magazine. If she was going to insist on the talking thing, he was going to smoke, hospital rules and Jake wringing his scrawny neck be damned. “Not really in the mood for talkin'.”
“I…I didn't want you to find out the way you did, Spike…I'm sorry…I never wanted you to get hurt…”
“That was pretty much a given, Slayer,” He spat out harshly and immediately regretted it when she lowered her eyes in shame. “Shit…” He lit up and fiercely took several drags, hoping the nicotine would sooth him. No such luck, but that was hardly a surprise, considering how his life was going lately. “Listen, Slayer…I know you have some weird, insane urge to hash this out with me…but what's the fuckin' point? S'not going to change anything, is it? You're still goin' to be married…I'm still goin' to be a little hurt that you moved on. But that's really my problem, not yours. Not anymore.” He softened his voice, “I want you to be happy, Buffy…and if you're happy with him…so be it. Don't worry `bout me. I'll manage…I always do.”
She chewed on her bottom lip and looked about ready to say something else when Jake appeared in the doorway. “I'll see you later, Slayer,” Spike dropped his cigarette into the water jug on the table and rolled towards Jake. He paused halfway across the room and glanced back at her with a small smile that took more of him than she could guess. “I just…this'll be the last time I'll say this…I love you, Buffy.”
She smiled at him, tears standing in her eyes. She didn't say it back…but he could still read her eyes like books and that would have to be good enough to tide him over for the rest of eternity.
TBC
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