The Fall of the Night by Mabel Marsters

The Fall of the Night by Mabel Marsters

Chapter #1 - Chapter One: A Spark of Life

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Please note the warning that there is Spike/other in this story.

St David’s Hospital, LA

The nurses worked efficiently and in almost total silence, only the slap of their white shoes gave their presence away. Their quietness was in deference to the seriously ill or injured patients that they tended. The patients themselves were either asleep or unconscious; the occasional moan sounding loud in the night.

All the patients had charts at the bottom of their beds, giving their name and indicating when next medicines could be given.

All except one…

A pretty nurse, dark haired and slim, went over to check the patient in the last bed on the right, the furthest from the door to the ward. She picked up the chart with ‘John Doe’ written boldly across the top. Checking the time with the watch pinned to the front of her uniform, she adjusted the flow of the intravenous drip, currently the sole source of sustenance for the bed’s occupant.

The patient didn’t stir; the readouts on the monitors next to the bed giving the only indication of life. His face was deathly pale but looked almost serene as he lay there. He had been there for the past three months, ever since the night of that amazing storm. Chaos had reigned that night and many people had paid the price - some were still paying.

Who are you? The nurse wondered, not for the first time. Why does no one miss you? Surely they would have checked the hospitals and even with the problems with communications that that night caused, three months is way too long for them not to have found you.

She lingered by the bed, reluctant to leave although he wasn’t aware that she was there. There’d been no change in him since he was brought in. The wounds and bones had healed, stitches long since removed, but his level of consciousness hadn’t altered. He was in a deep coma. The longer it went on, the less likely recovery was.

She reached out and touched the scar running in a line from his hairline, down his forehead to his left eyebrow, slightly puckering the lid of his eye. The scar would be permanent. Although it was not as livid as it once was, it would always be there to remind him of that fateful night should he ever awaken from his self-induced sleep.

‘The brain’s way of giving itself chance to heal’ the doctor had said in response to the nurse’s questions. Questions that she felt she had to ask, since he had no one else to ask them.

The nurse was drawn to this silent man, intrigued about his life. She wondered what had led him to get caught up in the devastation that was caused in that part of L.A.

She remembered the first time that she had seen him. All off duty nurses and doctors were called in after the offices of the giant law firm Wolfram & Hart had been reduced to rubble, along with a couple of blocks on either side of it. No one really knew what had happened to cause such an explosion. The storm that raged? Terrorists? Neither had been ruled out. Even the survivors of the law firm didn’t seem to care, they just left town saying that there were no plans to rebuild. But for the torrential rain helping fire fighters put out the blazes, half of Los Angeles would probably have been wiped out.

He’d been found in an alley not far from the centre of the explosion, half buried under rubble. His rescuers expected it to be another body to add to their grim tally. In fact, he technically was dead on arrival at the hospital. The nurse’s first glimpse of him was as he was wheeled through to the E.R. with a team of paramedics working on him. She’d been called away from a family get-together as she was part of the external disaster team. She’d raced after them, taking over pumping his chest to try to get his heart to beat. His blood was everywhere. At the time it was difficult to tell where he was hurt, apart from the head wound which gaped open, the bone beneath shining white through all the gore.

The team of medics threw everything they had at him in their attempts to revive him. They were determined not to let another fall victim to that night. The nurse was exhausted and the doctor was just saying that they’d better stop, that it was hopeless, when it happened. A beep, then two, then the regular rhythm of a beating heart traced a path on the screen. The line rose and fell to the sound of a series of beeps, one of the best sounds an Emergency Room team can hear. Then there was a gasp from the patient as his breathing started again. Instead of calling his time of death; the doctor called for him to be rushed into the O.R. to be operated on. The head wound took priority over his other injuries, which included a badly broken left leg and arm, which most likely occurred when the building collapsed into the alley

*~*~*~*

“Helen!” The name rang out shrill across the silent ward.

The nurse jumped, startled out of her reverie, guiltily looking over to the woman who called her.

“Are you going to stand there all night? There are others in need of your attention.”

Helen sighed and gave a last glance towards the recumbent man, lightly stroking his arm.

“I’ll stop by again later, after my shift,” she whispered as she left his side to continue her rounds.

*~*~*~*

Watchers Council Apartment, London

Giles replaced the telephone to its cradle and put his glasses down on the table beside it. He wearily ran a hand over his face. It’d been a long day – to be more accurate it’d been a long few months. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so tired. Even the battle with The First hadn’t left him so drained. Maybe that was because he hadn’t been feeling so much guilt then.

He recalled the conversation he’d just had with Buffy. As usual his Slayer was expecting him to work miracles. He still thought of her in those terms despite the fact that there were now many Chosen, not just one, and the fact he hadn’t been her Watcher for a long time.

“What do you mean you have no news? How can there still be no news? Are you even trying to find out?” she’d shouted.

That had stung him. That was where the guilt kicked in, ensuring his sleep would once again be riddled with nightmares.

When Angel had called asking for help, he’d refused. He'd refused to let Willow help and he'd refused to contact Buffy. He had done this because of the involvement of Wolfram & Hart. As far as he was concerned, once Angel had crossed the threshold of that evil law firm he was on his own. Andrew’s experience with Angel when locating the deranged slayer Dana, had not convinced Giles that Angel was still on the side of the helpless and the good. The vampire may not have reverted to being Angelus, but no way could that place fail to corrupt. But now it looked like he’d been wrong, seriously wrong. Like the time that he’d conspired with Robin Wood to kill Spike. A plot, that if it’d been successful, would have probably meant the end of the world since without Spike to bear the amulet, the battle would have been lost. As it was, the power of the ensouled vampire and the amulet destroyed the Hellmouth and destroyed The First.

So far Giles had found no trace of Angel and his team. The team was made up of two humans, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and Charles Gunn, Spike, who’d somehow been transported back to Angel within the amulet that he’d worn as he died in the Hellmouth – first as a ghost then, one day mysteriously being made corporeal again – Lorne, an empath demon from Pylea and Illyria, an ancient god. Giles had, however, found indications that they’d brought down Wolfram & Hart – the LA branch, anyway.

Giles also felt guilt at the secret he and Andrew had kept from the others - that of Spike being alive - but Andrew had insisted that Spike wanted it that way. Spike had said that he’d get around to telling them all in his own time and in his own way.

Only now he never could.

There was nothing else Giles could do from London so the Watcher decided to fly to L.A. to see if he could get more – well any – answers over there. Giles picked up the phone again and dialled the number from memory. Willow answered on the third ring.

“Giles!” The delight in her voice carried down the line, which was as clear as if she were just around the corner, rather than halfway around the world. “What’s up? You just caught me. I’m heading out to meet with a local coven and find out any gossip.”

“ Erm, well, I called to ask a favour, Willow. Could you possibly come to London and oversee things whilst Andrew and I go over to L.A. to see if we have any more success in getting to the bottom of what’s happened to everyone over there? I hate to ask –”

“Of course I will,” interrupted Willow. “There’s nothing much to keep to here. Things pretty well run themselves now. Plus Kennedy is still working here and can take over.”

Giles heard her voice break a little over her ex-lover’s name. Although they’d somehow managed to remain friends once they’d parted, it wasn’t easy working so closely together.

“That’s excellent. Thank you, Willow. Come as soon as you can.”

“How’s Buffy?” Willow asked the question that he’d been dreading.

“Not doing so well,” Giles said, with a sigh. “You know how she hates not knowing. She likes to have answers. I really feel I’ve let her down.”

“No way, Jose,” retorted Willow. “You weren’t to know what Angel was up to. He was never the most forthcoming of vampires, was he? I’ll be on the first flight I can. Don’t worry about Buffy, she’ll come round. You’re her rock. She just gets all antsy when you can’t tell her what happened or what she should do. The blow of losing Angel after seeing Spike burn in the Hellmouth is making her super cranky.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

Andrew walked into the room. Giles was slumped in the armchair cleaning his glasses furiously - a pointless gesture since Andrew had never seen so much as a mote of dust on them. It was Giles’ habit when things were getting bit too much for him.

“Come on, Giles, you need some rest.” Andrew gently led him from the room, proud to be taking care of him rather than the other way round, which was more usual.

“But there’s so much to do…”

“And it can be done in the morning,” countered Andrew. “I’ll book the flights for next week so we can get everything organised, then we’ll see what we find in L.A.”

*~*~*~*

St David’s Hospital L.A.

The dark was absolute. Not a flicker or hint of light anywhere. Something was changing,no outward signs altered but in the unidentified patient something stirred.

“Still no change,” said the doctor as he examined the John Doe, lifting his eyelids and shining the beam of his torch across the eyes. “I’m starting to fear that he’s not going to regain consciousness at all.”

Helen looked at the doctor in dismay.

“Is there nothing else we can do?”

“We’ve done all we can, but his heart was stopped for a long time. Who knows what damage that did. It’s a shame that no one has come forward for him. Perhaps he has nothing to live for, or no one to live for.”

“Will it help if I sit with him?” asked Helen. “When I’m off duty.” She quickly added as the doctor gave her an odd look.

“It won’t do any harm, but haven’t you got better things to do when your shifts finish than sit with an unresponsive patient?”

The patient in question lay there as usual but something was filtering through. A sound, nothing that made sense, but something was penetrating the silence that he endured.

Helen didn’t answer the doctor’s question. He smiled at her kindly, hoping that she wouldn’t get too attached. Although he could see why she was drawn to him, despite the scar, the patient was a handsome man. He had been physically fit before his accident though now, even with the physiotherapy, his once honed muscles were withering.

“Talk to him, Helen. There’s evidence that coma patients can sometimes hear, but you need to prepare yourself that he may never
recover.”

Suddenly the strange jumbled noise in the patient’s mind coalesced into a word. Helen. The rest of the doctor’s words became clear. Like someone had flicked a switch. John Doe could hear.

He tried to speak, to move, to let them know that he had come round but he couldn’t. He became aware of the beeps of the monitors, of the snores and groans of the others on the ward.

He was starting to surface.

TBC

Chapter #2 - Chapter Two: Welcome Back

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here.

Welcome Back

St. David’s Hospital L.A.

Helen sat with the patient for a couple of hours, reluctant to go home to another of her parents’ get togethers. God, she hated them, hence the sitting at the bedside of a stranger. Too many people crammed into the apartment, too much noise, drink, too much everything! It was better to keep out of the way.

As she sat she chatted away, telling the patient what she’d been doing that day and of her plans for the next weekend, which were to spend her days off at the beach enjoying the sun.

“Sun”

The word resonated in the patients mind. For some reason it brought fear.

The monitor’s beeping increased in speed. Helen glanced across and noticed that his heart rate had fluctuated. She watched it settle down again.

“What was that about?” Helen asked the patient. “If you want to wake up you’re going to have to do a bit better than that.”

She took his right hand in hers, like she had so many times, to give a little squeeze as she stood to leave. This time though, as she let go, his hand didn’t fall back to the bed. It held on! It was a weak but definite grip.

“Oh my God,” whispered Helen, staring at their hands. She squeezed her fingers again and this time the pressure returned was a little stronger. She was torn between getting a doctor and staying with him. Staying won. How could she leave him now if he were to wake up?

She sat back with a thump into her chair, scanning the monitors and the patient’s face for further signs. The fingers of his left hand moved, tentatively at first, then clenched into a fist, his body becoming tense.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re all right,” Helen crooned as if reassuring a baby. “I’m here, you’re not alone.”

He unclenched his fist and slowly, with effort, lifted his hand to his face; the fingers touched the scar on his forehead.

He opened his eyes. They looked grey and unfocussed but then cleared to a vivid blue and met the young nurse’s gaze for the first time.

“Welcome back.” She smiled, the corners of her brown eyes crinkling. “I think I’d better go get the doctor now.”

She released his hand. His eyes followed her as she went round the bottom of the bed.

“Won’t be long, don’t worry,” she said.

He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a croak.

“Don’t try to speak - it’s just the lack of use. You’ve been sleeping for quite a while.”

He slightly shook his head, licked his lips and then tried again.

“Helen.” It was a whisper of a whisper but he was rewarded with another lovely smile before Helen hurried off to call the doctor.

*~*~*~*

When Helen returned the patient was gazing at the monitors, his right hand was lying over his heart, a troubled expression on his face.

“The doctor will be here soon. Can you tell me your name now? I’ve known you quite a while without it.”

He looked up at her.

“What…? How…? Angel…?” He managed to speak, the words barely formed.

Helen smiled down at him and took his hand in hers. Patients were often confused after waking from a coma. It wasn’t the first time that she’d been called an angel.

“It’s been nearly three months since you were brought in. Do you remember any of what happened to you?”

At her words a violent shudder went through the man lying on the bed. He tried to rise.

“Others…got…help…Angel…Illyria. Where are they?”

“Easy, easy. Calm down.” Helen soothed, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Just try to relax. We’ll worry about the rest later.”

She stopped as the doctor arrived at the bedside. He was a huge man, his bulk disguising the delicate touch he had with his patients. With blond hair, fresh complexion and large hands he looked more suited to life on a farm than in a city hospital. The doctor chatted away as he performed a few tests on the patient.

“Gave us quite a scare, you did. We didn’t think that we were ever going to get your heart started again.”

The patient once more cast a troubled glance at the monitor indicating his pulse rate.

What the hell is going on? His mind was racing. Why am I here? How am I here?

The effort of trying to assimilate what had happened, where the others were, and why they kept going on about his heart, proved too much. With a relieved sigh, he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Helen, alarmed, gripped his hand tightly.

“No! Stay with us!”

The doctor put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Helen. He’s just fallen asleep, not back into a coma. It’s amazing how tiring a coma can be. It’s always a bit of a shock for them when they wake up.” He smiled at the nurse, secretly wishing that she’d look at him in the way that she looked at the
patient. “He’ll make more sense when he wakes up, I’m sure. Now go home and get some rest. You’ve been here nearly all night.”

“But…”

“No, Helen, go. He’ll still be here when you get back on duty this evening and we do have other nurses here, you know. He’ll be cared for.”

With a backward look at ‘her’ patient Helen agreed to leave. It made sense after all. She still didn’t know his name but she felt that she soon would.

*~*~*~*

This time the patient’s sleep wasn’t dark, quiet and peaceful. It was racked with dreams. Memories. He knew that they were memories. Images flashed through his mind. Images of him attacking countless people, blood running down his chin as he feasted, laughing at their screams for mercy, biting harder and harder!

Who do you kill for fun around here? I’m Spike. Words that he’d spoken to another that he’d killed. Killed despite being one of his own kind…a vampire!

“Vampire,” he groaned as he tossed and turned in his sleep.

A passing nurse paused at his bedside watching as the patient moved restlessly, a sheen of sweat on his brow. She didn’t hear his words.

New images flashed - images of a girl, beautiful with blonde hair falling to her shoulders, looking at him at first with desire and then with contempt.

And you wonder why I could never trust you?

“Oh, God!” moaned Spike, face contorting at the memory.

The nurse bent closer to hear what he was saying.

“Rape…I tried…Buffy…! No, oh God, no.”

The nurse stood up alarmed at what she’d heard.

“Helen’s golden boy looks like he may not be as golden as she thought,” she said to herself, having seen the young nurse often at his bedside. She made a mental note to tell the doctor what she’d heard, and walked away.

More images crashed into his mind. A demon placing his hand on Spike’s chest and then pain coursing through his body.

I shall return your soul!

Spike tensed on the bed as he recalled the moment that he became one of only two vampires in history to have a soul. One he’d sought and fought for, to try to right the wrong that he’d done to Buffy.

“Buffy,” he whispered.

Then holding hands with her, his whole being glowing, hands aflame as the amulet released its power.

I love you.

Words that he’d wanted and hoped to hear for so long but still he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t leave with her – he had to finish it off. Close the Sunnydale Hellmouth once and for all, then maybe his soul wouldn’t sear with the blood of all the people he’d killed, maybe…

The images jumped again as he saw his time as a ghost trapped at Wolfram & Hart. The box of ‘flashy’ that he received in the mail, making him corporeal again.

The war he, Angel, and the others had waged against the evil of Wolfram & Hart’s senior partners. The fight – that epic fight. Seeing Gunn fall at his side, almost cut in two by a wickedly sharp axe. Wesley - dead. Illyria - dead. Angel - dust.

“Too much, too much,” said Spike as he writhed on the bed, hands to his head, fingers clutching his hair. How the hell have I survived? Or have I? Was this another holding dimension of Wolfram & Hart? In humans they ripped out your heart. Perhaps in vampires they made it beat again?

He drew his legs up into his chest and stayed curled up, hands entwined in his hair, as he sobbed in his sleep for the loss of his friends and in fear of his future.

Chapter #3 - Chapter Three: Confusion

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here.

Confusion

He woke in response to a nurse trying to get him to bring his right arm away from his head so that she could tend to the IV catheter, which had torn free with his struggles. Instinct took over and he lashed out at the nurse. Naturally left-handed, he caught her in the face propelling her away from the bed. She fell, crashing into the monitors. In an instant he was out of bed ready to flee, but his legs, which hadn’t been used in so long, couldn’t hold him steady. He grabbed the bed to keep from falling, appalled at his weakness. The nurse was back on her feet, looking at him with a mixture of fear and anger as she leaned over to press the buzzer for assistance.

The man staring back at her was wide eyed and wild looking. As he held onto the bed, his eyes darted from her face every few seconds to glance around him.

“Can’t stay.” She heard him whisper. “Got to get out. They’ll kill me. No, no more!”

The last word was a shout. He flung his hands to his ears as if trying to block out sound. Spike staggered away from the bed, limping badly on his left leg, and holding onto anything within reach to steady his progress.

The door to the ward flew open and two nurses, one a middle aged woman, the other a younger man, and the doctor who’d examined him earlier ran in. Jake, the doctor, quickly took in the scene and motioned everyone to stand still. In a calm voice he asked the nurse if she was okay and got a slight nod in response. Her eyes screwed up as her broken nose throbbed furiously.

“Well now, where do you think you’re going to? Only just woke up and already want to leave us?” said Jake.

Spike looked at the doctor in dismay. He was at least as big as Angel and Spike knew that he was in no condition to fight. Hell, he could barely stand.

“Can’t stay, can’t stay, can’t stay,” he murmured. He glanced at the nurse he’d hit and recoiled from the look in her eyes. “Sorry, but can’t stay, gotta go, not safe.”

“What’s not safe?” asked Jake gently, sensing that being confrontational wasn’t a good idea. The man looked scared to death but dangerous along with it. Jake recalled the nurse’s words about him talking of rape in his sleep and began to regret not contacting the police.

A shaft of sunlight beamed suddenly just in front of Spike as it escaped from behind the clouds. He stepped back sharply to avoid it, almost over balancing.

“Bollocks!”

Puzzled by the patient’s reaction, Jake repeated his question.

“What’s not safe?”

“Me. Everything. Sun. Stakes. Dust.” Spike seemed to shrink as he uttered these words. He brought his hands to his head. “What the bleeding hell is happening to me!” His yell making the male nurse jump.

Before Jake could stop him, the young man leapt to get hold of Spike whilst he was distracted.

“Dave! No!” Jake reached out for him.

Too late. For a man barely able to stand Spike could still throw a hard punch. With a cry of frustration, Jake ran to Dave’s aid. Despite the punch, Dave still managed to get hold of Spike, and tried to pull him forward. Spike, seeing the shaft of light still shining bright, fought with all of his strength not to go.

His mind was once again a confused mess as he tried to make sense of it all.

Okay, so my heart is beating. What does that mean apart from it feeling bloody weird?he thought as he struggled. A soul hadn’t stopped me from the threat of combustion in sunlight before. I’m sure as hell not risking it now!

He fought, but once Jake grabbed his other hand, it was over. A sudden prick in his arm and he fell limp to the floor, the sedation rapidly taking hold. Jake and Dave looked at each other, both out of breath.

“Anna,” Jake called out to the middle aged nurse still rooted to the spot where they’d first stood. “Get a couple of orderlies here as soon as possible. I think we’d better move Mr. John Doe somewhere a little more secure before he wakes up, don’t you?”

She turned quickly and rushed out of the ward.

“Dave, go check on Sarah. I think she might have a concussion. Take care of her. I’ll stay here with our friend”. The tone of his voice left no room for doubt that he didn’t consider this man a friend.

“No one attacks my staff and gets away with it,” he said to himself, looking down at the crumpled heap that was Spike.

*~*~*~*

Helen arrived at the hospital. She was early - her shift didn’t start for another thirty minutes but she could wait no longer. She changed quickly into her uniform and headed over to the ward eager to see ‘her’ patient. She walked in and looked towards his bed. It was empty.

“He’s been moved,” said Anna from behind her. Helen turned around.

“Why? Where’s he gone? Is he awake?”

“He might be awake again by now, but trust me and stay away from that one. He’s dangerous. He attacked Sarah, broke her nose and gave her a concussion. It took Dr. Jake and Dave to pin him down. They managed to sedate him and had him carted off to the psych ward.

“What?” exclaimed Helen. “He seemed okay early this morning before I left. Confused and dazed but not threatening.”

She started to walk to the door.

“Don’t, Helen. Don’t get involved. Sarah heard him muttering about rape. Leave well alone,” warned Anna.

Helen carried on not heeding her colleague’s words. She took the elevator up two floors and sought out the nurses’ station for the psych ward to see where John Doe had been placed.

The psychiatric ward comprised of six beds, three on each side. Beyond them were six small rooms, all with doors that could be locked and only opened from the outside. The nurses worked on this ward in pairs due to the unpredictable nature of their patients.

She sighed with dismay when she saw that ‘her’ patient wasn’t in one of the ordinary beds. She popped her head round the door of the cubicle that served as the nurses’ station. Two nurses, both male, were there; one was writing up some notes, the other sorting some drugs ready for dispensing.

“Hi, guys,” said Helen. “Just checking on a patient transferred up here from intensive care.”

She didn’t miss the look that passed between the two men.

“What’s up? I mean, I know he caused some trouble on the ward but he’s only just come out of a coma. He could barely string two words together this morning.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not convinced he can string a coherent sentence together ever,” said Adam. “He’s a total mess. God knows what he’s been doing all his life. He’s got more scars on him than I’ve ever seen.”

“He came in injured on that crazy night when all hell seemed to be let loose. He was covered in wounds from being buried under rubble.” Helen didn’t know why but felt that she had to defend him.

“Look, Helen, this guy’s been into something. It’s not new scars I’m talking about. He’s got, among others, one right round each forearm, very faint but neat as you please. Looks surgical but I don’t know of any procedure that leaves scars like that.”

“I want to see him.” Helen stood firm.

“Well, if you do he’s in room six but that door won’t be opened. It’s nearly time for his meds and if the last time’s anything to go by, no way are we going in there ‘til Dr. Jake gets here.”

Helen almost faltered. If he’d got Nick and Adam so spooked he must be bad. They’d both worked the ward for years. She’d always thought that nothing fazed them. With apprehension she started to walk towards room six, then paused, turned back to the two men and asked,

“Does he have a name yet?”

“The only name, well, we think it’s a name, that he’s said is Spike.”

“Spike? Why do you think that’s a name at all?” she replied.

“Because it’s always followed by the same phrase ‘Spike’s a bad man, he hurt the girl’. We figure Spike’s him and the girl is poor old Sarah who he hit.”

“Oh…okay”.

Helen resumed her walk to the room containing the patient. She noticed that she’d demoted him from ‘her’ to ‘the’. Certainly not ‘hers’ if he was as violent as they said.

She peered through the small observation window and could see why the men were waiting for Jake. The bed was upturned and stood diagonally across one corner, mattress and bedding strewn all over the floor. The patient was huddled behind the bed. He sat on his haunches, head in his hands, his fingers constantly pulling at his hair. The hair had been bleached as white as it could go when he first was admitted, now it had a couple of inches of natural colour showing. It was sandy brown, slightly curly, and it had made him look appealing as he lay peaceful in his coma. Now it was mussed up as he continuously ran his hands backwards and forwards through it. All the time he was rocking slowly to and fro. She could see he was talking but couldn’t hear the words he was saying.

They wouldn’t have made any sense if she could hear them. They didn’t make much sense to Spike and he was the one saying them. Words and phrases constantly were on his lips, their order jumbled, meanings nonsensical.

“Spike’s a bad man. He hurt the girl”.

“Don’t hurt the girl.”

“I can feel them, everyone of them.”

He looked up suddenly as if aware of Helen’s gaze. His ice-cold blue eyes met her warm brown ones for a second.

Helen held her breath until he lowered his eyes back to the floor and carried on with the rocking and the muttering. She knew that she somehow had to help him. His eyes didn’t look evil, they looked tortured. She was sure that the man she was watching wasn’t a psycho. She didn’t know how she knew but suddenly she was certain. Her medical training told her she was being ridiculous. One fleeting glance can’t provide a diagnosis but she’d felt that she’d seen into his soul and that he was in need of her help.

She heard voices and turned to see Dr. Jake, Nick and Adam approaching, a syringe in the doctor’s hand. All three men looked like they’d rather be anywhere else.

“Helen, what are you doing here?” asked Jake, his voice unusually curt.

“I just want to help.”

He sighed knowing, short of ordering her away; there was nothing that he could do. He wasn’t big into acting all authoritatively, preferring the quiet friendly approach with his colleagues. Perhaps if she saw how the patient behaved then she’d stop hanging around.

“Okay, but for Christ’s sake stay out of the way. Since you’re here, you can close the door and the three of us can go in. But do not open it again until I say. Understood?”

“Understood,” Helen replied.

“Good,” continued Jake. “Now press the button and open the window blinds.”

Helen suddenly realised that the light in the room was very dim. She’d been so intent on looking at Spike that she hadn’t noticed the blind was down. In all six of the rooms on this ward the window blinds were fitted into the frame of the window high on the back wall, so that patients couldn’t get at them. They were controlled electronically from outside the room.

Obediently, she pressed the button. The blind slowly started to rise, allowing bright sunlight to flood the room.

Spike abruptly stopped swaying and flung himself down as close to the back wall as possible, staring with horror as the line of light crept nearer.

“What’s he doing?” asked Helen, astonished at what she was seeing.

“Damned if I know,” replied Adam. “Perhaps he’s a vampire?” he said with a chuckle. “All I know is, he’s so keen to keep out of the light that it makes it a damn sight easier to grab the bastard and inject him.”

“Ready?” asked Jake.

The two nurses nodded.

“Okay, here goes.”

In they went. Spike had pulled himself into a sitting position against the back wall, knees tucked under his chin. About two feet of the length of the room remained in shadow, only an inch or so away from his toes.

“Don’t want to die. Don’t want to die. Not again.”

“Not toasted and ghosted. No amulets.”

Spike gabbled these words as fast as he could, but all the time his eyes veered from the line made by the sun and the three men approaching. He saw the syringe in Jake’s hand and shrank back further still, pressing even harder against the wall.

“Yellow makes you weak, brown makes you sleepy.”

“Wasn’t me, luv. I’ve done my share of bad and you’re not one of them.”

“Christ! What have you done to me? Can’t feel my hands.”

“No, please, not again!”

The words rushed out of his mouth. His eyes were glued to the syringe but on the last four words he looked straight at Jake, his face showing such fear that the doctor’s step faltered momentarily.

“Whoever this guy is, he’s petrified,” he thought, as the two nurses pounced on Spike holding him tightly.

Spike wriggled desperately but, weakened by his months of inactivity, injury and the drugs that were being given, he was no match for them. They held him tight until he started to relax and drift off to sleep.

Chapter #4 - Chapter Four: Getting Worse...

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Posting TWO chapters per day - so make sure you don't get muddled! :D

Getting Worse…

Giles and Andrew buckled their seat belts, ready for the descent into Los Angeles. In the end it had been two weeks after the phone call to Willow before they’d been able to leave, a minor crisis with one of the youngest slayers in their care delayed their departure.

Now as the plane began to descend, Giles pondered what to do. Willow’s locator spells had all come back with the same answer. Angel, Wesley, Illyria and Gunn didn’t exist. It didn’t bode well but Willow had reminded him of the time she’d had the same results when she had tried to find Buffy, Dawn and Xander when she’d returned from England but that had turned out to be false, and so there was still hope. He hadn’t asked her to do one for Spike as he couldn’t face telling her that he’d survived the Hellmouth only to be lost to them once more. It’s something that Buffy could never be told. It would break her. She’d barely forgiven him for doubting Spike’s loyalty before The First’s apocalypse.

The plane landed and Giles and Andrew retrieved their baggage, sorted out the hire car and headed for the hotel that they’d booked from England. A few false turns later and they found it. Giles’ heart sank. It was a hideous, dirty building, nothing aesthetic about it at all. He stared at Andrew.

“Did you actually see a photo of this place on the Internet and still book it?” he asked incredulously. “Further proof, as if any were needed, that computers are the spawn of the devil.”

“Well, it looked okay. The picture was small,” whined Andrew. “It’s got a good central location."

“Good location? It’s between the hospital and the city morgue! All we’re going to hear all night are sirens. It better be reasonably clean. I’m far too tired to find another today. Come on then, in we go.”

The younger man picked up both suitcases in an attempt to appease. He led the way, struggling to open the door with both hands accounted for. Giles smiled to himself and followed him in.

Fortunately, the interior was less shabby than its grim façade. Room keys were given out and the weary travellers went to freshen up before dinner, where they would plan their strategies.

An hour or so later Giles and Andrew were in the hotel’s dining room, too tired from the flight and the past couple of week’s events to go to find somewhere else. They just hoped that the food was better than the dining room looked.

“At least if we get food poisoning it’s not far to get help,” joked Andrew.

“Yes, but I hope it’s the hospital that help comes from,” said Giles as he gingerly poked around at the food on his plate.

Andrew was tucking into his as if it was gourmet fare.

“So what did Lorne tell you, Giles? Was he any help at all?” asked Andrew, talking of the green demon from Pylea whom he’d met earlier in the year.

Lorne was the only one of Angel’s team they’d managed to trace. Willow hadn’t used a locator spell on him as they don’t work on Pyleans, most likely because they’re empath demons. They’d eventually tracked him down, singing in a bar that he owned in Las Vegas.

“Well,” said Giles, “he wasn’t much help at all really except in confirming that Angel and Co. had taken on the Senior Partners. He’d made an agreement with Angel that once he’d done the task Angel had assigned to him, he was gone, playing no further part and not wanting any contact with any of them ever again. So he wasn’t best pleased initially to know I’d managed to find him. All that he knew was that any survivors were to meet in an alley half a block from the offices of Wolfram & Hart.

“That sounds like somewhere to start looking, then,” said Andrew nodding his head.

“Yes, first thing in the morning we’ll head over there and then we’ll just have to play it by ear. We’ll also check lists of unidentified bodies, to see if any match Wesley or Illyria. If Angel or Spike were killed all that would be left would be a pile of dust so we’ll have to see if the local demon community has anything for us to go on. If they were hurt they’d need help from someone.”

“Do you really think we’ll find them?” Andrew sneaked a potato from Giles’ plate.

“Honestly, no. But until we have proof either way I’m going to keep trying. Buffy needs to know for sure. One thing is certain though, Andrew, I’m not eating here tomorrow evening!”

*~*~*~*

In the two weeks since Spike awoke from his coma, things had settled down into a routine. He no longer violently objected to being injected with his medication, but this wasn’t due to an improvement in his state of mind. Rather, it was due to finally getting the balance of the cocktail of drugs that he was being given, correct.

Although he was still in room six, and not in one of the beds in the open part of the ward, he wasn’t thought to be a threat to himself or anyone else any longer. He stayed in room six because, despite the meds, he was still afraid of the sunlight.

Helen walked into the ward, waving hello to the two nurses on duty.

“Hi, how’s Spike? Any change?” It was the same question she asked each time she looked in on him, which was usually before and after her shift.

Unfortunately the answer was always the same too. No.

She carried on to the room containing Spike. Before opening the door she glanced through its window, despairing at what she saw. Although the bed was still upright, its covers crisply made, Spike as usual wasn’t on it. He preferred, as always, to huddle in the corner with his back to the wall and his hands resting on his knees. He was perfectly still. He stared straight ahead with those intense blue eyes, not seeing his surroundings at all.

Helen quietly opened the door, pushing it almost closed but making sure it didn’t shut properly so that she wouldn’t have to call for help to get out.

“Hello, Spike,” she said as she crossed the room to him.

No reaction.

She knelt down in front of him. Reaching out with her right hand she gently pushed a stray lock of two-tone hair back from his face. Spike’s eyes focussed on her, looking puzzled.

“Are you still here?” he whispered. “I thought you left.”

“Erm, I did leave Spike. I came in before my shift and now I’ve finished it.” She sighed gently as she realised that he sat exactly as he had eight hours earlier.

“Come on, why don’t we sit on the bed? It’ll be much more comfortable.”

She took hold of his left hand in her right and pulled slightly. Spike didn’t move and was once again staring into space. She increased the pressure, insisting that he move and this time he did. Slowly he stood, swaying a little as his legs fell victim to cramps from being hunched up for so long.

Helen steadied him and gently helped him to the bed. He sat down obediently. She stood in front of him. His expression was blank once more. She didn’t know what she could do to help him. He seemed to be getting more withdrawn every day. It wasn’t just the effect of the drugs - he looked like he’d given up, that he had no more fight left in him.

He barely ate anything despite Helen bringing in cookies and other little things to tempt him. He’d been slim when he’d arrived, but now he was beginning to look skeletal. His cheek bones jutted sharply above his hollow cheeks.

Occasionally he showed signs of being aware of his surroundings. Sometimes he ranted words and phrases over again but more and more often he just sat staring into space, barely realising that she was there. He was awake but that was about all you could say.

Helen sat on the bed next to Spike. As he felt the movement, he turned to her, looking deep into her eyes.

“Can I go now?” he said.

“Go where?” asked Helen, pleased that he seemed to be having a lucid moment.

“Hell."

Okay, thought Helen. Perhaps lucid wasn’t the word that she was looking for. When she didn’t answer, he took hold of her arm.

“Need to go. Need it to stop. Need help.”

“I don’t think that you’ll find help in Hell, Spike,” said Helen. “Can I help? What do you need me to do?”

“Blood. Need blood. Heart’s pumping - don’t know why or how, but no blood anywhere.” He looked at her as if what he’d said should make sense to her, but it didn’t. He let his hand fall away.

“You’ve got enough blood to keep your heart beating, don’t worry.”

This was a regular theme. He seemed very anxious about his heart. She couldn’t understand why because once he’d been resuscitated in the ER it had beat evenly and healthily ever since.

She wondered whether she should contact the British Embassy again. Though Spike had never said anything about himself except in his incoherent phrases, he was clearly English. She’d tried to contact them as soon as she’d realised that he was, but basically the staff said they’d had no reports of a missing Englishman in the USA and that he was probably here illegally. No, she thought. No point in going down that route again.

“Spike.” She repeated it louder when he didn’t respond. “Spike!”

He turned to look at her.

“Who am I? Can you remember?”

A look of confusion passed over his face, brows furrowing.

“Are you still here? I thought you’d gone.”

“Spike, concentrate. If you do really want to get out of here you have to concentrate and make more sense. Come on, try. Who am I?”

He stared at her for what seemed like an age. Finally he whispered, “Helen.”

“Yes, good. Great. That’s right. No, keep concentrating.” She put a hand on his arm. "Who are you and where are we?” she said.

Again, the long pause.

“Spike…sitting on a bed.”

Helen had to stifle a giggle. It was not really what she wanted.

“No, I mean where are we - as in what city?”

“I don’t know. Could be in any dimension. Not sure where I was taken. Was in L.A. Now I’m here.”

“You’re still in L.A. You’re in a hospital. You got hurt, remember?”

“Still here? Then why? I don’t get it? Why me? What’s happening to me?”

Spike started to get agitated. His eyes darted around the room and his hands fidgeted with the bed linen.

“They’re dead. They’ll all dead. Dust. I should be, too.”

He got down from the bed, found his usual corner of the room and hunched down.

“I don’t want to remember. Can’t remember. It’s too much.”

He stared straight ahead, hands resting on his knees. He was back in exactly the same position that he’d been in when she’d come into the room.

Helen stood to leave, looking over at him, knowing that he’d be unresponsive for hours again, as he sat there immersed in his own strange thoughts.

He’s getting worse. A tear glistened in her eye, knowing that she’d lost her heart to this man, even though he barely knew that she existed.

Chapter #5 - Chapter Five: A Lead

Chapter #6 - Chapter Six:

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Posting TWO chapters per day - so make sure you don't get muddled! The one with an odd number is the second one:D

Found

Spike sat huddled in his usual corner, his blank features belying the activity in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the frenetic images whizzing through his head. Good, bad, happy, sad, they were all there. He felt lost; adrift from reality but vaguely aware of it.

He knew that it was getting near to the time they injected him, because he could feel the level of drugs subsiding. He looked forward to the next dose. It was safe here in this dark room, with the chemicals stopping the worst of the pain the images caused. He just wanted it to end; to succumb to the oblivion that the drugs gave. He’d been through so much. Enough was enough.

He groaned, and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t move as he heard the door open, he was just thankful he’d get some peace for an hour or two before being pounded again by his past.

“Spike? My God, it is you!” Giles’ voice was incredulous as he looked at the pathetic figure before him.

Spike groaned again. Another voice from the past coming to haunt me. I wonder if he’s come to kill me himself this time instead of getting someone else to do it. Thank God, it’ll finally be over.

He glanced up as he heard footsteps approaching, as he held his arm out, ready for the comforting sting of the needle. He saw Giles standing there, a hand on Andrew’s shoulder to prevent him from rushing forward.

Spike shook his head rapidly from side to side, a manic cackle escaping from his lips. Oh great. Not enough to see things in my mind, now my eyes are in on the action too. He curled up, eyes tightly closed, rocking gently to and fro.

Dr. Jake arrived at that moment and took in the scene before him, with the patient obviously distressed. He noticed the concern etched on the faces of the two men and decided quickly that any further discussions should take place away from Spike.

He offered his hand out to Giles.

“Hello, I’m Jake Hannigan, Spike’s doctor. Is that really his name by the way?”

Giles nodded.

“It’s a nickname really, but we all call him that,” he said, taking the offered hand.

“I think we’d be better off talking at the nurses’ station. I can fill you in on the details and perhaps you can enlighten us a bit about Spike, too.”

They left the room, the door snapping shut behind them.

“I understand that you’re Spike’s father?” said Jake.

“Yes,” said Giles. “Giles, Rupert Giles. This is my other son Andrew,” he added, remembering Andrew’s outburst at the bar. He glared at him to keep quiet for once.

“So how did Spike come to be here?” asked Giles. “We’ve been trying to trace him for quite a while. We’re not that close and he has…er…a tendency to roam about, never staying in the same place too long. We normally get the odd call or card but for three months, nothing. An old girlfriend of his said he’d been heading to L.A. last that she’d heard, so we thought we’d come to try to find out.” He launched into the cover story that he and Andrew had quickly mapped out whilst waiting to be allowed up to the ward.

Dr. Jake explained about the night that Spike had been brought in, how his heart had taken so long to start beating that they’d thought they were going to lose him.

Andrew and Giles looked at each other as the doctor mentioned Spike’s heart. How could it be?

The doctor continued until they finally had the whole story. No one spoke. Giles tried to think up a plausible reason for Spike’s phobia of the sun but couldn’t and so gave up.

Jake looked at the two men. They seemed totally flummoxed by what he’d told them. I suppose it must come as a shock to see a member of your family reduced to the wreck that was Spike.

“Has he shown any signs of mental illness in the past?” he asked. “Because we’re not sure whether it’s due to the injury or not.”

Andrew started to say something but Giles shot him a look, knowing that he was remembering how Spike had spent three weeks in the Sunnydale High School basement after bowing under the pressure of the guilt that he had suffered after having his soul restored. Something not helped by The First’s constant appearances to him in various guises. But Giles knew that if they were going to get Spike out of here as soon as possible, they had to keep things simple.

“No, nothing like this. He’s always been a bit…odd…but nothing like this. I think the sooner that he’s back with his family the better, don’t you? All these ramblings you’ve told us about must be from the injury muddling up his thoughts. What do I need to do to get him released?”

A discussion ensued with the doctor wanting Spike to remain where he was but with his family visiting to see if they could draw him back into the real world. Giles was adamant about his discharge.

*~*~*~*

Helen walked on to the ward. She could hear voices from the nurses’ station. Jake and two other men were talking intensely, watched by Adam and Nick. She was surprised to see the two nurses. She hadn’t realised that they were pulling a double shift. She hurried past not wanting to interrupt as she made her way to Spike’s room. In the two weeks that he’d been awake, Helen knew his medication times to the minute. She knew that if he’d just had a dose that her visit would be short, because he’d be unresponsive. According to her watch his latest meds were given forty five minutes ago, but she still had to look in on him. She couldn’t leave him alone.

As usual, she peeped through the window as her hand reached for the door handle. She couldn’t immediately see him, as he wasn’t in his usual back corner. Then he came into view, pacing from left to right near the front of the room then turning when he reached the wall and pacing back. His stride was marred by the limp that was so bad that he lurched as he moved. She could see that he was talking to himself, but his eyes looked clearer than she’d seen since he’d first woke up, before he had been put on the meds. She opened the door and he spun round.

“It’s not Hell,” he said as soon as she stepped in the room. “Can’t be Hell if ole Rupe’s here. That bugger’s so good, couldn’t be Hell.”

“Spike, are you okay? Has something happened?” asked Helen.

He moved towards her putting his hands on her arms.

“He’s here. Come to get me out, I reckon. Better get me out. Ole Rupe helping Spike?” His words faded away, face clouding. “Never has before…and he’s gone…what if he doesn’t come back?” His eyes were pleading as he looked into Helen’s.

“He’s here, then he’s gone, but no drugs come. Old Spike’s coming back.”

He was talking fast and quietly, almost to himself but his hands still gripped Helen’s arms.

*~*~*~*

“Christ!” exclaimed Adam. “We’ve not given him his meds. They’re nearly an hour late.”

The injection had been forgotten with the arrival of Giles and Andrew. Nick and Adam had told the other two nurses on duty they’d fill in for an hour or so, wanting to see what happened with Spike. The on duty nurses were happy to take a break.

Adam dashed from the room followed by the others. He saw the door was open and looked at his watch, realising that Helen’s shift had just finished. As he got to the door, he saw that Spike had hold of Helen, an arm in each hand, his face close to hers.

“Let go of her,” Adam said quietly but firmly.

“It’s okay, Adam. I’m fine. We’re just talking.” Helen reassured her colleague.

Spike looked at Adam and released his grip on Helen, taking a step backwards. Adam held the syringe of medication which just moments ago he’d craved badly. Now he wanted, just as badly, to avoid it. He now had hope, hope that things might be okay after all, and he didn’t want to lose that feeling to the clouds created in his mind by the drugs. He wanted to cling onto it, he needed to cling onto it. He took another step backwards as Adam took one towards him.

“Come on, Spike,” said Adam. “You know this makes you feel better.” He took another step towards him.

Again, Spike retreated shaking his head.

“No, not today, not now,” he said, looking at Helen, eyes appealing for help.

“Adam, just wait a minute. What’s going on? How come his meds are so late anyway?” she said, as much to distract Adam from his task as for the answers. “He was talking of someone - “Rupe”. Who’s that?”

“Me,” came a voice from behind her. She turned to see a tall bespectacled man, dressed in a tweed suit, standing in the doorway.

“I don’t think that he needs those drugs just yet,” said Giles to Adam who had started to slowly walk towards Spike again.

Adam was just about to retort.

“It’s okay, Adam. He’s being released soon and we don’t want him knocked out. I’ve written a prescription for some pills instead so he can have some now and continue when he’s released,” said Jake, who’d followed Giles into the room.

Adam shrugged and walked out.

Rupert had his first proper look at Spike and was shocked at what he saw. Spike had always been lean, but fit and muscled, swaggering about in his long leather jacket, bleached hair glowing in the moonlight. This Spike bore no resemblance to that man. Baggy hospital scrubs covered his body, which was thin to the point of emaciation. He was leaning against the wall, unsteady on his legs. His cheeks were hollow, his shoulders sagging, and a thick scar running down his forehead right to the eyelid, was raised and pink against the pale grey of his complexion. Hair, once well groomed, now hung in curls - half blond, half sandy brown. His whole demeanour was one of defeat, something that the Spike of old would never have countenanced.

“Spike,” he said gently, “you remember me, don’t you?”

Spike nodded, started to say something, then stopped, swallowed and started again.

“Rupert, can you help me? I’m in trouble. Can you help me please?” he said in a small voice.

Rupert’s heart sank further. The old Spike would never have asked for his help, especially with the history that they had between them.

“Yes, Spike. I’m here to help you.”

At these words Spike, who’d been leaning heavily with his back against the wall, sighed and started to slide down the wall, his legs giving way. Rupert moved to help him, but Helen was there in an instant, holding Spike’s arm and supporting him so he sat gently on the floor rather than falling.

“Who are you?” demanded Helen, twisting round to face Giles, she knew that she was being rude but didn't care.

“I’m his father, Rupert Giles,” he answered. “You must be Helen. The doctor told me how you’ve been visiting him. I’m grateful for it."

At this point, Andrew, who’d amazingly been silent throughout, could contain himself no more. He pushed his way into the room and flung his arms around Spike as he sat on the floor and gave him a hug.

“You’re alive! You’re alive! I can’t believe it.”

For a second, Giles saw Spike give a look that was pure ‘old’ Spike, showing his distain for such displays, but it swiftly passed and he just looked bewildered.

“Andrew,” said Giles sharply, causing him to glance up and let go of Spike. He stood up and backed away from Spike by a couple of feet.

“Come on,” said Helen. “You can’t stay here. Let’s get you on the bed.”

Spike nodded and struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on Helen. Once on the bed he lay down. Rupert turned to leave the room.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me here,” pleaded Spike.

“It’s all right, I’m not. I just have to go for a moment to sort things out,” replied Giles.

“I’ll stay with him,” said Helen, taking one of Spike’s hands in hers, a gesture not unnoticed by Giles.

“That’s very kind of you, Helen, thank you. Andrew, come with me. There’s a lot for us to do,” he said, not trusting Andrew to keep quiet in front of Helen.

They walked out of the room with Jake to make the necessary arrangements.

Helen sat on the bed holding Spike’s hand. Her feelings were mixed. She was glad someone had finally come to claim Spike but sorry that she’d not see him again. He was still looking at the door.

“Well, looks like you and I will soon be saying goodbye,” said Helen, her voice quivering slightly.

Spike turned to look at her.

“No, not goodbye,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “I…” he faltered. “You… kind. Always here. Helped not to be alone.”

He dropped his gaze, and looked at the hand that she was still holding. He put his other hand over the top and squeezed.

Helen couldn’t speak, tears glistening in her eyes. Stupid, she thought. Stupid to feel this way about a patient, especially one with the problems he has. But she couldn’t help it. From the moment that she’d felt his heart give its first beat in the E.R. she’d felt somehow connected with him. Now he was leaving and she’d never get to know him properly.

Giles walked back into the room. Spike sat up on the bed looking at him expectantly.

“Right, Spike, we can’t get everything finalised tonight so you’ll have to stay here another night. But don’t worry; we will come back for you.”

Spike looked over Giles’ shoulder as Jake appeared in the doorway.

“No more drugs,” said Spike in the strongest voice that he’d managed since awakening from the coma.

“Calm down, Spike,” said Dr. Jake. “You can’t just stop them altogether. I need you to take some pills. They’re not as strong, but you’ll need to take them for a week or two to wean you off the drugs gradually. It’ll be better for you.”

“I feel better now,” replied Spike. “They’ll make things worse again. I need to make sense of things, not get muddled again.”

Another glimpse of the ‘old’ Spike’s stubbornness. Helen, who was still sitting on the bed holding his hand said, “The doctor’s right, Spike. You do need to come off gradually. You may be glad of their help when you leave here, you know, to smooth things over.”

“Okay,” he agreed after a pause.

Dr. Jake gave him a couple of pills and a glass of water. Spike took them without further objection.

“We’ve got to go now, Spike,” said Giles. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned and left, Andrew following in his wake. Spike just nodded and resignedly lay back down on the bed, Helen still at his side. She’d recognised what one of the pills was, a sleeping pill, so she decided to stay with him until he fell asleep.

*~*~*~*

Giles, Andrew and Jake walked from the ward to the doctor’s office where they once again discussed the terms of Spike’s release. Jake tried again to persuade them to leave him where he was; at least until he was off all the medication, just in case he got violent again. He’d told Giles about Spike hitting the nurse.

“And this is why he ended up in a locked room filled with drugs?” Giles was furious. “Good God, he’d just woken from a coma, had suffered major head trauma and because he was confused and scared you effectively jail him and pump him full of drugs so you have an easier time looking after him!”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Jake responded angrily. “You weren’t there. It’s my duty to protect my staff and it was to give him time to settle down.”

“Oh, he’s settled down all right,” shouted Giles. “He looks bloody half dead!”

“Hey, guys, this isn’t doing any good,” Andrew interrupted. “Can we please just concentrate on what we have to do to get Spike out?”

The two men looked at Andrew. They nodded their agreements. Jake gestured for Giles to sit down in the chair opposite his desk, as he sat in his. The atmosphere relaxed a little. Andrew perched on the edge of the desk.

“Firstly,” began Jake. “I know it sounds a bit callous, but there is the matter of his medical bill. Has he any insurance?”

Andrew smirked at the thought of a vampire having medical insurance. Giles was careful not to catch his eye as he knew he’d laugh. He told the doctor that no, he hadn’t, but that funds could be wired from London the next day.

That solved, the doctor wanted to know where they were going to take him as, in his opinion, Spike certainly wasn’t fit for a flight to London and the seedy hotel next door wasn’t exactly ideal.

“We’re going to rent a house here in L.A. for a few months,” said Giles. “So that he can recuperate with no pressure and if we have any problems you aren’t far away.” He added the last part to appease the doctor, having no intention of bringing Spike back here under any circumstance.

“There is one other thing,” said Jake. “Before he hit the nurse he was talking in his sleep that he’d tried to rape someone - Buffy, I think he’d said. Do you know what that could mean? You’ve told me he’s a bit of a drifter. I’m worried that he moves on for a reason.”

Fortunately, Xander had told Giles of the attempted rape which had prompted Spike to seek out his soul, but he was still taken aback by the doctor’s statement. Thinking on his feet, he replied, “Buffy’s his sister. She was attacked a couple of years ago and the culprit was never found. Spike took it very hard. I always thought that he was trying to track the attacker down, and that’s why he kept moving.”

At this rate we’ll all be bloody related, he thought, but the doctor seemed to have bought it.

Giles stood up and offered his hand to Jake.

“We’ll be back for him tomorrow night. It’ll take us all day to find a house and so on. Have you anything of his here?”

“His clothes were ruined except for a leather coat and some boots. We’ve still got those and so will have them ready tomorrow.”

“Thank you. We’ll get him some clothes to change into. Good night.”

With that Giles and Andrew left the hospital and went back to the hotel to plan for the next day.

*~*~*~*

Spike was starting to doze off. He glanced up at Helen and reached out with his left hand to wipe a tear that was falling down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Helen, please,” he said gently, fighting the effects of the drugs. “Don’t be sad.”

“I’m not sad,” she lied. “I’d better be going home now.”

She had to leave, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stem her tears. She leant down and, for the first time, kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Spike,” she murmured and then quickly left, avoiding meeting his eyes.

Spike watched her go, his fingers caressing the cheek that she’d kissed and he drifted off into a deep, and for the first time since awakening from the coma, totally dreamless sleep.

*~*~*~*

Helen didn’t go home. She learned from Nick that Mr. Giles was checked into the hotel next door with his other son. What a strange coincidence. But there was something strange about the whole situation.

She walked into the lobby of the hotel and asked at the front desk if she could place a call to Mr. Rupert Giles. The receptionist indicated a phone at the end of the desk and told her to dial 353. The phone was answered almost before it could ring.

“Hello. Is this Mr. Giles?” asked Helen.

“It is,” said Giles.

“Oh, um, my name’s Helen Green. I’m a nurse at St. David’s…”

“Oh yes, Helen, I remember you. What can I do for you?”

“I wonder if I could possibly talk with you about Spike? I’m in the lobby now, if it’s convenient?”

“Of course. Come up to my room if you don’t mind, it’s a bit more private. Andrew is here too. We’re just talking things through about tomorrow.”

He told her the room number and put the phone down.

“I wonder what she wants?” he mused.

A few moments later, in response to a sharp rap on the door, he let Helen in.

“Would you like a drink?” asked Andrew as Giles offered her the only chair and sat on the bed opposite.

“Thank you, but no.” said Helen. Now that she was here she didn’t know where to start.

“I understand that you’ve been sitting with Spike a lot when you’re off duty. It’s been very kind of you to do that,” said Giles, filling a rather awkward silence.

Oh God. He thinks I want money! “Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. I want to offer my services for the next couple of weeks. Free of charge!” she blurted. “You see, I’ve got some vacation time due and you’ll need help with the meds --”

“We couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” interrupted Giles.

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” said Helen firmly, her resolve strengthening. “It’s just I feel I’ve a special interest in him. I was there with him in the E.R. when he’d just been brought in. I’d just arrived after the call went out to those of us off duty. I usually work on the intensive care ward and that’s where he was during those months of coma. I’d like the chance to help him recover. I can get an exercise program from the physical therapy unit and help him do it. Help him get fit,” Helen stopped, realising that she was babbling.

Andrew and Giles looked at each other. It was true that she’d be a great help to them all, but how could they possibly explain his past and what he is or was?

“Okay, Helen, it’s a deal, but on one condition. You’re to come the day after tomorrow, to give us a chance to get settled in. Here’s my cell phone number. Give me a ring say five p.m. and I’ll let you have the address.”

He gave her the number and Helen left. This time she did go home.

“Right, Andrew,” said Giles. “Tomorrow I’ll go and sort out the bank transfer for Spike’s bill and hit the agencies about a rental house. We need it to be pretty secluded. I hope we can get something organised. I don’t want him spending a moment longer there than he has to.”

“He’s so thin. He looks so ill,” said Andrew. “I thought vampires couldn’t get ill?”

“I don’t understand what’s going on either, Andrew, but first we’ll get him with us, then we can work out what’s wrong with him and sort it out.”

“What about the others? Buffy, especially. Are we going to tell them?”

“Not for the time being,” Giles replied. “I think he needs peace and quiet and he certainly won’t get that if everyone knows he’s alive.”

Andrew went back to his room with his heart racing. Spike would get better, he had to.

Chapter #7 - Chapter Seven: Out of Hospital

Chapter #8 - Chapter Eight: She Deserves Happy

Chapter #9 - Chapter Nine: A Day Out

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Posting TWO chapters per day - so make sure you don't get muddled! The one with an odd number is the second one:D

A Day Out

Once Andrew had left amidst much tears – his and embarrassment – Spike’s, the ex vampire and the watcher settled into a routine. After breakfast, Giles left for the Council and Helen arrived to help Spike with his physiotherapy.

At first progress was slow, Spike was frustrated by the fact that so little improvement was seen. Patience was never his strong point, but Helen kept him calm when he got cross and motivated him when he wanted to give up.

For two weeks, Helen spent most of the day with Spike, then when her leave ran out and she returned to work she’d come in the afternoon before her night shift started, for a couple of hours to make sure that he was keeping up with the schedule she’d set.

Spike missed her when she was back at work. She inspired him to get better, and gave him a reason to live as he increasingly found the thought of being human scary. What role could he now play, he wondered? He’d not be so useful in a fight and let’s face it he wasn’t the best thinker in the world, so planning wouldn’t be his thing either. He felt lost. The only thing that stopped him feeling that way was when Helen was with him.

*~*~*~*

Six weeks after leaving the hospital Spike woke up early, as he tended to do these days. It wasn’t because he had any trouble sleeping, more that he didn’t want to waste a moment of daylight, having had to avoid it for so long. He went into the bathroom, showered, shaved and combed his hair, grimacing at its length and curls. It was so much easier when you could see yourself in a mirror.

“Bloody poofter,” he said to his reflection and pulled a face.

He went downstairs, pleased that he no longer had to cling to the banister to keep from falling. His limp was definitely getting better, the muscles responding to the daily physiotherapy. Today was Helen’s day off and she’d promised to spend it with him and said that she had a surprise planned.

Spike was just finishing his breakfast when Giles walked in.

“Are you busy today?” asked Spike, hoping he’d be off to the Council and out of the way so he and Helen could be alone.

“No, I’m taking the day off,” said Giles. “I’m going to do as little as possible. I need a day at home.”

Spike’s face fell.

“Oh…great, you’ve been working hard,” he said. Yeah, bloody great, being here like a gooseberry. He added to himself, as he put his plate into the dishwasher with more force than necessary.

Soon afterwards Helen arrived, knocking on the door but coming straight in.

“Hi, guys,” she said cheerily. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?”

“Hello, Helen. Yeah, it’s a really nice morning,” said Spike sulkily, still annoyed at Giles’ decision to stay in.

He missed the look that Helen and Giles shared.

“Suppose we’d better get started on the exercises then?” Spike said.

“No, we’re not starting the exercises, Spike. We’re going out for the day,” she replied.

“What?” Spike spun around to see Helen and Giles grinning at him.

“You!” he said, pointing at Giles. “You bloody well knew about this, didn’t you? Oh, I’m just having a day at home.” Spike mimicked Giles as he repeated his words.

“I’m sorry.” Giles laughed. “I couldn’t resist it. I know that you hate me around when Helen’s here.”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t like you seeing me work out,” said Spike, trying to cover the fact he wanted Helen to himself. But one look at Giles face and he knew he’d been rumbled. He shrugged. “So where are we off to then, pet?”

“I’m not telling,” said Helen. “You’ll just have to trust me. Get your jacket and let’s get out of here.”

As Spike left the room to get his coat, Giles told Helen, “I’ll be on my cell phone all day. If you need any help, a lift home if he gets too tired, anything, just call and I’ll be with you straightaway. I’ll see you later as planned.”

“Thanks, Giles, that’s reassuring. But I’ve got the day planned with plenty of time for him to rest up. He’s got to get back out in the world sometime, can’t just hideaway in here forever.”

“I know,” said Giles, nodding, “but take it easy with him. He’s led a pretty solitary life really for the past year or so. I’m just worried that he’ll be overwhelmed.”

Spike came back into the room with his jacket on – a badly fitting, blue denim one that Andrew had bought for him. He hated it but the only other jacket that he possessed was his leather duster and he couldn’t bring himself to wear that.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he announced.

Helen walked over to him, took his hand in hers and turned to go.

“Just a moment,” said Giles. “Here Spike, take this.”

He handed Spike a long thin envelope. Spike took it and looked inside. Dollar bills - quite a lot of them. He looked over at Giles raising an eyebrow in an unspoken question.

“Just take it, Spike. Believe me you’ve earned it,” adding with a smile. “Besides you can’t expect Helen to pay for your day out, can you?”

“Er…no, course not,” Spike said, his voice thick with emotion. He coughed to try to disguise it. “Thanks.”

“Come on!” Helen tugged at his hand. He looked back at Giles, nodded his head and went outside.

Stepping through the front door felt strange. He hadn’t been through it since he arrived that night from the hospital. He paused fractionally, took a deep breath and went down the steps with Helen.

*~*~*~*

They walked slowly, as Spike’s left leg, although improving, still caused him to limp quite noticeably. Helen knew it still gave him a lot of pain but he had resolutely refused to use a walking stick which would have helped. He wouldn't acknowledge it to her, but she could see that every now and then he clenched his jaw tight when a bolt of pain hit him.

“So where are you taking me? You’re not going to keep me in the dark all day, are you, love?”

“We’re nearly at our first stop,” said Helen, looking up at Spike with a smile.

A few yards further on and she halted him.

“Here we are.”

She’d brought him to a standstill outside of a shop. He looked at the sign and laughed.

“Oh, so you hate the hair too?”

“No, I love it. I think it’s cute but I know you don’t like it and –”

“Cute? Cute?” interrupted Spike. “That’s it. Let me get in there. It’s gotta go. Cute! Christ!” He pushed the door open and went inside, Helen following him chuckling.

He sat in the chair, Helen had to bite her lip to stop from laughing out loud at his expression when a very camp man with pink streaks in his hair came over to attend to Spike.

“What can I do for you, sir?" trilled the hairdresser. “Cover those roots for you?”

“No, just cut it off. All of it,” said Spike.

“Oh, but it’s such lovely hair, why don’t –”

“Off. Short as possible and quick as you can mate, got other things I have to do.”

The hairdresser sighed dramatically, ruffled his hand through Spike’s hair a couple of times, and then reached for his scissors.

“Don’t you bloody dare laugh,” Spike said to Helen, who was having trouble keeping a straight face.

He tried to glare at her through the mirror but just ended up grinning.

As the hairdresser cut his hair, Spike looked at his reflection. He’d filled out a bit from his first sight of himself six weeks ago. His complexion was no longer deathly pale but lightly tanned. The scar was still very obvious - it always would be. He touched it with his fingers. In the mirror he could see that Helen was watching him.

“Doesn’t mar my handsome good looks too much?” he joked, smiling at her.

“I think it’s very sexy.”

Spike nearly fell out of the chair. It wasn’t Helen who’d replied but the hairdresser! Helen was doubled up silently laughing, tears streaming down her face.

“There you go, sir, all finished,” said the hairdresser.

Spike quickly took in his new look. His hair had been cut about half an inch long all over, sandy brown, no hint of bleach blond left.

“Thanks,” Spike said getting up from his seat as quickly as possible as he went to pay. He daren’t catch Helen’s eye, knowing she was still trying not to laugh out loud. He paid and they rushed out into the street, both collapsing in fits of giggles when they were out of sight.

“Sorry, Spike,” gasped Helen. “When I made the appointment he wasn’t there.”

“I bet you’d have still booked it even if he had been, you sod,” he said as he laughed. “Come on, where now?” He rubbed a hand over his newly shorn hair. “I hope this looks less cute? That’s not a word a fella likes to hear, you know.”

“No, you don’t look cute anymore, you look adorable!”

Helen shrieked as Spike made a grab for her and ran a few steps.

“Hey, that’s not fair! You’re too quick.” For a second his smile faded as he recalled how quick and agile he’d been. If he’d still been a vampire he would have mended good as new. Then he looked at Helen and his smile returned. Maybe some things made up for others and he lunged after her laughing.

She let him catch her and as he swung her round to face him, their eyes met. They looked at each other tentatively. Spike lowered his head towards Helen, she responded by standing on her tiptoes. Then their lips met and he kissed her gently. Spike pulled back a little. When he saw she wanted it as much as he did he kissed her again, this time harder, longer, and with more passion. She melted into his arms and kissed back just as ardently.

“Ahem!”

The sound made them stop kissing and look round. A fat middle-aged woman was standing in front of them, looking very disapproving.

“Do you mind?”

They suddenly realised that they were standing right in front of a store’s entrance and the woman wanted to go in. The pair blushed, muttered an apology and walked out of the way.

They walked hand in hand until Helen once more stopped outside of a store.

“Here we are, phase two of the big day out.”

“What have you got planned now? I dread to think.”

“Relax,” said Helen as they walked in. “See, it’s just clothes. I figured that now you’re well enough to go out and about that you might want some clothes that actually fit.” She gave his jacket a tug.

“You’re not wrong there, love. I’m not sure what Andrew was thinking when he bought me this stuff, and I can hardly fasten these jeans anymore.”

He was now back at more like his normal weight, not the skeletal frame he had when he left hospital. He wasn’t as toned, perhaps never would be, but it was certainly an improvement.

An hour or so later, and a couple of hundred dollars lighter, the pair emerged, Spike transformed by a well fitting pair of black jeans (old habits die hard), a dark blue shirt and black leather jacket. The clothes he’d arrived in were consigned to the trash. He’d insisted on keeping his boots but had conceded a little by buying some shoes and a pair of light coloured trousers and several T shirts and long sleeved shirts in various colours.

As they left the store Helen looked up at Spike and kicked herself. She recognised that look from their physiotherapy sessions. It was the look that he had when he wouldn’t give up despite the pain, determined to see it through. His eyes were narrowed slightly and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“I don’t know about you but I could do with a coffee,” she said brightly. “Look, we can get one over there.”

She pointed to a little place almost opposite them with tables outside. Spike nodded his agreement, trying to hide his relief and they made their way to the tables. Spike lowered himself into his chair carefully, grimacing. He stretched his leg out in front of him and gave it a rub.

“Are you okay?” asked Helen with concern.

“Fine. Now what do you fancy?” he replied, reluctant as always to admit weakness or the fact he was hurting to her. He reached out to hold her hand.

They ordered coffees and sat there chatting easily. Well, Helen chatted and Spike listened.

“Come on, your turn. You know everything about me but you never tell me any of your stories,” said Helen.

“Not much to tell, pet,” replied Spike. What can I tell her? Over a hundred and twenty years and barely a memory fit to tell, even after I got my soul back. Can’t really tell her that I was a vampire (oh yes they are real, love), and at one time I had my hands hacked off by a deranged slayer but the shaman at an evil law firm magicked them back on again good as new. No, not much to tell.

“How can that be? You know all about my family and friends and, apart from Giles and Andrew, I don’t know anything about yours,” insisted Helen, regretting the words as soon as she’d said them.

A closed look came across his face. He let go of her hand.

“My friends are all dead, Helen. I’m sorry if I can’t regale merry tales for you, but I just can’t. It’s…” he stood to leave.

“Don’t please, I’m sorry,” said Helen, catching his hand to stop him. “It’s just I like you so much, I just want you to know that you can tell me anything, good or bad. It won’t change my feelings.”

I’m not so sure about that,” thought Spike, sitting back down again and looking at Helen.

“It’s okay, it’s just I’ve lived in the past for so long I need to be able to see a future, not be haunted by ghosts of my past any more. I can’t tell you I’ll ever be able to talk about it with you. I do want you in my future, but is that enough? I know you deserve to know it all but I can’t.”

His face was so full of pain as he spoke that Helen had to choke back tears.

“I can settle for you wanting me in your future. Yes, that’s enough for me, Spike.” She leant over and kissed him.

“Right, phase three,” she announced, standing up.

She saw from Spike’s expression that he was tired and that his leg still hurt and so she quickly added, “Don’t worry, this is the easiest one. We just need to find a cab. You wait here, won’t be long.” She turned and walked away from the table to see if she could catch one that was passing.

Spike sat there, watching her. He realised he really did mean what he’d said, she wasn’t just part of his future, she was his future. After a few minutes a cab hooted from the kerb to get his attention, Helen already inside. He got up, collected his bags and walked to it. Once inside the cab sped off and they got out at the beach. It was a bright sunny day but not hot so the beach wasn’t too crowded.

Helen looked at her watch.

“We’re a bit late, he must already be here,” she said, looking up and down.

Spike started to ask who, when he spotted Giles walking towards them carrying a hamper and beach bag.

“Thought that I was in the wrong place when you weren’t here on time,” Giles said. “Having a good day?”

“Yeah, but what are you doing here? You two been plotting again?” Spike put his head on one side and looked at Helen with a smile.

“Phase three – lunch is served,” she said, indicating the hamper she’d taken from Giles. “Now give him your bags to take home and we can go eat.”

“She’s really got this thought through, hasn’t she?” Spike said to Giles, as Helen started to walk down to the sand.

“You should see the orders that she gave me. I was so scared of turning up late that I’ve been here for twenty minutes. She’s amazing.”

“She certainly is,” agreed Spike and he handed over the bags of clothes and went to join her, struggling a bit in the loose sand.

By the time he’d got to her, she’d already laid out a couple of towels to sit on and was unpacking food from the hamper.

“Since we’ve had such a busy morning, I thought chilling out on the beach for the afternoon would be nice.”

He sat down, pulled her towards him and kissed her.

“This is the best day of my life,” he murmured in her ear, not sure whether he meant of his whole existence and not just of his new humanity. When he was with Helen he could forget his past.

After a while they remembered their lunch.

*~*~*~*

Much later, they packed up all the crockery and towels and left their shoes, hoping it would all still be there when they got back, and went for a stroll along the edge of the ocean, walking on the firm wet sand near the waves was easier for Spike.

Helen glanced at Spike as they walked along and knew that she’d fallen in love with him. She’d been a little in love with him since she’d first felt his heart beat, though she’d tried to deny it as being foolish. Now that she’d spent this time with him she was certain.

Spike caught Helen looking at him and stopped.

“What?” he said, tilting his head in that way of his that always made her heart melt.

“Nothing, just looking,” she replied, reaching up and kissing his nose then she ran away a few steps before stopping. “Come on, you’re not chicken, are you?” she goaded.

So far he’d done well with his exercises, but she knew that he was very self-conscious of his limp. He tended to walk as slowly as possible, not just to prevent the pain, but also because his limp showed less when he did so.

As they were walking through the store and he’d caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror as he went by, she’d seen the look of disgust on his face. She wanted him to realise that, limp or no, he was attractive and capable of playing around. He hadn’t attempted to run yet and since the next stage of his exercise plan included some steady jogging, she thought she’d try to get him to do it today whilst he was having fun, now that he was rested. Hopefully, he’d not realise that he was getting pushed a bit harder again.

She bent down, scooped up a double handful of water and threw it at Spike, splashing him on his chest.

“You little minx!” Spike said.

He went to grab her. This time she didn’t let him catch her like she had earlier; instead she stepped out of reach, going backwards so that she could see him. She splashed him again, laughing, then turned and jogged slowly away.

A hand grabbed her shoulder.

“Gotcha!” shouted Spike.

“Last one to our shoes pays the cab fare home,” she laughed, and turned away once more.

Spike’s hand found hers and they jogged gently along the beach. Spike, concentrating hard, willed his lame leg to work properly to keep up with her. By the time they’d reached their belongings just a couple of hundred yards away, Spike was panting hard. When they stopped he put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

“Don’t tell me. Phase four,” he gasped.

He laughed at her astonishment.

“I know you too well, Nurse Helen,” he joked. “You always try to sneak in the new exercises without me noticing. You’re a hard taskmaster.”

“And you, occasionally, are a model patient,” she replied smiling. “Let’s get home now; it’s been a long day.”

“A good day,” said Spike. “When’s phase five?”

She looked at him quizzically, “Phase five?”

He gave her a frankly lustful look, and raised his eyebrows. She blushed, gave his arm a playful thump, and picked up the hamper. Spike smiled to himself. Phase five wasn’t so far away after all!

*~*~*~*

Another month passed and the change in Spike was dramatic. He still limped, he always would, but it wasn’t too bad now except when he got tired. The rest of his body was now toned and he looked fit. Every morning and evening he went for a steady jog for an hour or so, determined to keep pushing to get in the best physical shape possible. He was no longer really aware of the limp - he’d accepted that it was part of him, like the scar on his forehead. He knew he drew a few strange looks as he jogged past people, I mean, a jogger with a limp? What was that about? The scar often drew looks too but he found that he didn’t care. Helen loved him as he was, and that was good enough for him.

The pair had been inseparable since his first day away from the house. They went out together as often as they could around Helen’s work shifts, going out for meals or sometimes just walking on the beach holding hands.

Phase five hadn’t been reached yet. Spike knew that she wanted it, but he was scared of taking the extra step too soon, aware that his past relationships had all been distinctly odd. Drusilla, his first love, was an insane vampire, and Harmony, another vamp, was as vacuous as Drusilla was mad. Then there was Buffy…the destructive physical relationship followed by the tenderness they’d shared just before the apocalypse. The tantalising thought of what might have been. Try as he might, he still thought of Buffy.

Spike pushed himself a bit harder as if running faster could make the thoughts go away. His feelings for Helen were real. Buffy was just a fantasy that could never be.

He arrived back at the house exhausted. He walked for the last ten minutes or so, knowing that it helped his leg rather than to just run and stop. He saw Helen’s car on the driveway and he was smiling as he went into the house.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said kissing her. “I wasn’t expecting you ‘til later.”

“I swapped with Anna. She wanted to come in an hour late and so I covered for her and got off an hour early,” she replied.

“Where’s Giles?”

“He said to say he’d be gone ‘til late, something to do with work.”

“Is that right?” said Spike, “So we’ve got the place to ourselves then.” He kissed her again. “I’ll just go up and get a shower, won’t be long.”

She watched him leave the room and go upstairs.

Spike showered quickly, wrapped a towel round his waist and went into his bedroom to get dressed. The first thing he noticed was a neat pile of clothes on the chair, the second, which brought him to a standstill, was the sight of Helen lying under the covers of his bed.

“Think it’s time for phase five, don’t you?” She smiled at him and pulled the corner of the quilt down, inviting him in.

How could he resist? He was after all, only human!

Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, Spike felt as if he’d finally been able to lay the last ghost of his past, Helen filling the void left by Buffy.

Chapter #10 - Chapter Ten: A Decision Made...

Chapter #11 - Chapter Eleven: Arrivals

Chapter #12 - Chapter Twelve: Time To Tell

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Posting TWO chapters per day - so make sure you don't get muddled! The one with an odd number is the second one:D

Chapter Twelve

Time To Tell…

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Helen and Spike were once again inseparable as they did the tourist trail: The Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, open top bus tours, the works.

The three months were almost up and it was time for the truth to be told. Giles told Spike that he’d sent word to Xander and to Buffy and Dawn to come to London for a while, telling them it was important but not giving any details. They were all due to arrive at the end of the week. Xander was to stay with Willow, and Buffy and Dawn with Giles as his apartment was bigger.

Spike was very apprehensive about it although he knew that it had to be done. It wasn’t just seeing Buffy that was bothering him; the history between the others meant that it was bound to be uncomfortable. Xander had made it quite clear that he’d never liked him, especially after the attempted rape. He’d told Dawn of it, which had ruined the friendship they’d shared. Willow, of them all, probably would understand the best, how sometimes the dark just took over unless you fought back. She’d succumbed to totally evil black magic after Tara had been murdered, but had worked hard with Giles and the Westbury coven and was now firmly back on the side of good.

Spike told Helen that he wanted to meet with everyone for the first time on his own. She protested saying that she should be there.

“Look, love,” said Spike. “I know you want to meet them and you will. It’s too long a story to tell now, but they thought I’d died over a year ago. I know it was stupid but, apart from Giles and Andrew, I let them think it all this time, I just decided they were best off not knowing. Now that I’m settled back here I need to come clean, but I’m not sure how they’ll take it. So I’d rather they meet you when they’ve gotten over the shock. Okay?”

“All right,” agreed Helen reluctantly. Over the last few weeks she’d learnt that there was a lot about Spike’s past that he’d never share - she just had to accept it.

*~*~*~*

Spike knew that everyone was arriving today. They’d coordinated Xander’s and Buffy’s flights to arrive as close together as possible in order to save making two trips to the airport. Willow, Giles and Andrew were all going to collect them. They were due back at the apartment at midday. He looked at his watch. It was only nine a.m.; he’d have plenty of time to do his usual route for his run, spend some time with Helen and be ready to meet everyone at two as arranged.

“Won’t be long,” he called to Helen as he went out of the door.

He jogged steadily along, careful not to push too hard. He was still vain enough not to want his limp to be any worse than it had to be.

When he got home Helen already had the shower running for him. He took off his sweaty clothes and got under the jet of water, turning it to cold for the last few seconds before getting dried and dressed. He put on his favourite black jeans but took his time to select his shirt, taking several on and off before, predictably, settling on a black T shirt.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He knew that Helen was hurt about him not taking her. He pushed his food around, eating little. He was just too nervous.

“Shall we go for a walk along the river?” asked Spike.

“If you like,” said Helen in a small voice.

He got up, cleared away the plates and then knelt beside her.

“I’m sorry about today, love, I really am. But I’ve got to do it my way. I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“I know,” said Helen. “It’s just that I hate it when you shut me out. I love you and want to be there for you. I know you’re nervous about meeting them again. I don’t know why I can’t be there to support you.”

Spike sighed.

Because they’ll want to hear how I survived The Hellmouth – how I returned as a human. How can I possibly explain that to you?

“It’s me; it’s just the way I am.” He kissed her gently and stood up. “Some things I just have to do on my own. Come on get your jacket and let’s go for that walk.”

*~*~*~*

Xander was the first to arrive; he walked into the arrivals hall looking tanned and healthy. He drew a few sideways glances due to the patch over his left eye. It gave him a slightly piratical look, as his hair was longer than he used to wear it and slightly wavy.

“Xander!” called Willow, rushing towards him. Although e-mails and the odd phone call kept them in touch, she hadn’t seen him in well over six months.

“Hey, Will, go easy!” he laughed as the slim, red haired witch hugged him tight.

They walked over to where Giles and Andrew were standing.

“Good to see you again,” said Giles, offering his hand.

Xander took it, but then pulled him into a hug. “I think after all we’ve been through a handshake’s a bit formal, don’t you?”

“I’ve taped all the episodes of Dr. Who for you since it started again,” said Andrew.

“That’s great! Seen few clips on the Internet but I’ll look forward to a serious ‘Who’ fest. Are you in?”

“I’m in.” said Andrew grinning from ear to ear. At last there was someone who liked the same TV shows as he did.

“So what is so important, Englishman, that you had me fly thousands of miles to see you rather than just e-mail me?” asked Xander, intrigued that the remains of the ‘Scooby Gang’ were being assembled together.

“All in good time,” said Giles. “Let’s have a cup of tea. Buffy and Dawn should be landing in about half an hour.”

As it was the flight was delayed, but soon after it landed Buffy and Dawn came through to meet the others. Both girls looked stunning. Buffy’s hair fell below her shoulders, lightened by the Italian sun. Dawn looked taller than ever - at nearly eighteen she looked very much the young woman, her hair cut into a stylish short bob.

After everyone hugged hello, Giles ushered them to the waiting car, wanting to get them home before Spike’s arrival.

They got back with half an hour to spare. Giles fussed around offering drinks and a few snacks, obviously nervous about something. Andrew had lapsed into silence that was even more worrying as he usually never stopped talking.

“Giles, enough,” said Buffy firmly, taking the teapot from him and setting it down with a clatter on the table. “What’s going on? You’re starting to spook me. Is there another apocalypse? I mean it’s been a while since the last one. Why have you got us all here?”

Before Giles could answer a voice from the doorway said,

“Because of me.”

Everyone spun around to look at the speaker. They couldn’t believe their eyes, was it really…?

Spike walked slowly into the room. His heart was hammering like it was trying to get out of his chest as he looked at Buffy.

“Hello, Buffy,” he said as he got close to her. He glanced at her almost shyly.

“Spike?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”

“Holy crap, Spike!” exclaimed Xander. “What’s going on?”

Willow just stood there astonished.

Dawn was the first to move. She strode over to him and kicked his left leg, hard.

“Bloody hell, Niblet!” howled Spike. “What was that for?”

He walked over to a chair, all of them suddenly aware that he no longer walked with a swagger but with a limp that had nothing to do with Dawn’s kick.

“Oh no!” cried Dawn. “I’m sorry! I was just mad that you aren’t dead!”

Everyone looked at her in horror.

“No, I mean…we thought you were dead…”

Spike and Dawn stared at each other.

“Well, that’s all right then,” said Spike dryly and everyone laughed, easing the tension.

Buffy looked at Spike intently as they settled back down in their seats. She noticed his hair. It was the first time that she’d seen its natural colour. It was cropped short, not brushed back like it used to be. There was a scar that ran down his forehead to his left eye, the eyelid affected by it. If anything, she thought that it accentuated his looks, not detracted from them. It seemed to emphasise the vivid blue of his eyes and the perfection of his cheekbones. She noticed that he wouldn’t catch her eye, instead looking down at his hands.

“What? How?” said Xander.

“Shall I?” Giles asked Spike.

Spike nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They were all looking at him in amazement. It made him feel uncomfortable. His hand strayed to his scar then, self-consciously, he pulled it away again. He stood up and walked to the fireplace, trying to disguise his limp as much as possible. The last time that these people had seen him, he’d been strong, a champion. He kept his back to the room as Giles started to speak.

“We’ll start at the beginning, The Hellmouth.”

Spike glanced over at Buffy. She was watching him and their eyes met. Each remembered the words they’d spoken. Spike turned back around. God, I want her so much. I love her. He thought of Helen sitting at home waiting for his return and felt wretched.

Giles told how Spike had somehow been trapped in the amulet and it had arrived back at Wolfram & Hart in a parcel for Angel.

“But that was less than three weeks afterwards. Why didn’t you say?” blurted Buffy.

“What was I going to say? I was a bloody ghost, couldn’t pick up the phone,” he said.

“But…”

“Look, love, just let old Rupe tell the story. Plenty of time for questions later.”

He walked over to the other side of the room so that he was out of Buffy’s eye line.

They listened with astonishment as Giles regaled the details of the past eighteen months. First he was a ghost, then corporeal again. Of him taking part in Angel’s fight against Wolfram & Hart, and somehow surviving the fury of the demons they unleashed on them.

Spike took over and in a quiet voice told of the others dying, and how he thought he’d had it when the Veragos demon came at him with a sword. He touched his scar.

“His handiwork, I reckon.”

“What happened then?” This time Willow spoke. “Where have you been since then? That was nearly seven months ago.”

Spike looked at Giles. He nodded slightly indicating for Giles go on.

“He was in a coma in hospital for three months.”

“In a hospital?” said Dawn. “A demon hospital? Do they have such things?”

“Shh, Niblet,” said Spike. “Let him finish.”

“Perhaps now’s the time, Spike?” said Rupert with a smile.

“Okay,” said Spike, he walked towards the window. The curtains were drawn, keeping out the bright sunlight. Without turning around he continued. “Well, something happened to me, see, between the cut from the sword, the wall collapsing on me, and being found by the rescuers. It’s probably easier to show than tell.”

He flung the drapes open and stood there bathed in light. After a few seconds he turned round. Buffy, Dawn, Xander and Willow were all staring at him in disbelief.

“Well, to cut a long story short, I’m human again.”

“Always was an exhibitionist,” grumbled Xander under his breath.

They all started talking at once, their questions bombarding Spike, all of them staring at him.

Like I’m a freak, thought Spike. Well, I guess I am at that.

Dawn came up to him and took hold of his hand.

“Wow, it’s warm!” she announced.

The others crowded around him until he could stand it no more. He shrugged off Dawn’s hand, pushed his way through them and half walked, half ran out of the room. Andrew went to follow him.

“No, leave him be, Andrew, give him a bit of space. He’s been worrying about this meeting for weeks. I had intended to break the news to you before he arrived, but with the flight being delayed I didn’t get the chance,” said Giles. “He’s been through an awful lot since The Hellmouth and he’s still adjusting to being human.”

He told the gang of Spike’s coma, the time on the psych ward, drugged out of his mind, and the chance meeting with the two nurses since they would never have contacted hospitals to find a vampire. How badly injured he was and how hard he’d had to work to get his leg as good as it now was. Giles also told them of the vampire attack that Spike had endured and how it had prompted his return to England.

Whilst all this was being told, Buffy quietly slipped out of the room and went to look for Spike. She found him in the dining room, staring out of the window. He tensed slightly as he heard her come in, but didn’t turn around.

“Spike?” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

He still didn’t turn, just gave a small nod of his head. She walked over to him. Even without his enhanced vampire senses, he could smell her perfume as she got closer. So familiar. He closed his eyes at the memories it evoked. He felt her tentatively touch his arm.

“Spike, look at me please. Why didn’t you tell us you’d survived The Hellmouth? We mourned for you, I mourned for you.

He turned and looked at her face, overwhelmed by the depths of his feelings for her, this woman that he hadn’t seen in a year and a half. Vampires could love without a soul. After he had regained his soul he was able to love on a different level, but being human, he could feel his love for her with every beat of his heart.

He reached out and stroked her hair with his right hand before letting it fall back to his side.

“What would I say? Oh, hi, it’s Spike. I’m back - I’m not dead after all? By the time I was corporeal again, I figured it best to just leave things alone.”

“God, you’ve been through so much.” She reached out to touch the scar on his forehead.

He pulled back as if her touch was searingly hot and looked away.

“No, don’t,” she said, walking in front of him. She guessed accurately that he didn’t like her to see the scar, let alone feel it. He’d always been a bit vain. She again reached up and touched it. This time he let her, his eyes downcast, afraid that he’d see pity in her eyes, where he wanted to see love.

“I saw you, you know, when I was here a couple of months ago. Only I didn’t know it really was you, I just thought my eyes were playing tricks. I saw you as I got to the door of the Council, you were walking away. For a moment I felt it was you but then the hair, the limp and the daylight. How could it have been you?”

He visibly flinched as she said the word limp. She mentally kicked herself for being so insensitive.

“But it was you after all. God, I wish I’d arrived a few seconds earlier then we would have met. Spike I lo –” she stopped in mid sentence as a pretty brunette rushed into the room.

“Spike, are you all right? You’ve been so long, I was worried about you.”

Spike guiltily backed away from Buffy.

“Helen, I’m okay. What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait at home any longer. I had to come.” She turned to Buffy. “Hi, my name’s Helen, and you are?”

After a brief pause Buffy replied.

“Buffy, Buffy Summers. I’m an old…er…friend of Spike’s.” She glanced over at him as she said it, unable to read his expression.

“Pleased to meet you, Buffy,” said Helen a little coolly, as she realised she’d interrupted something. “I’m Spike’s girlfriend. Come on, let’s join the others.” She took Spike’s hand proprietarily, her message to Buffy clear. Back off.

Spike didn’t look at Buffy as he went with Helen back into the lounge. Buffy stayed a moment longer, tears prickling her eyes, before she pulled herself together and joined the others.

By now, Giles had answered pretty well all the questions the others asked, and had explained about the Shanshu Prophecy.

Xander looked up as Spike walked back into the room, a girl on his arm.

Spike introduced her to the others as his girlfriend Helen, telling them that she’d been his nurse when he’d been in the coma.

Helen, proud of being introduced as such, was soon telling everyone how she’d been working on him in the E.R. and how they’d almost given up on him when his heart finally gave its first beat.

Buffy stifled a gasp as she realised that Helen had been there the moment that Spike had returned to human form. She’d only been there with him moments before he died. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to get in touch. Who wanted to be reminded of his own death?

Willow was watching her friend, knowing how upset she must be - delighted that Spike’s alive, especially now as a human, but devastated at the appearance of the girlfriend.

After another hour or so, Spike stood up.

“Come on, Helen, I think it’s time we went home.”

Helen was about to protest, as she was enjoying meeting the others and had hoped to glean information about Spike’s past, until she saw the look on his face. I t was his no compromise look. Fortunately it didn’t appear often but when it did there was only one thing that she could do.

“Okay, well, it was lovely meeting you all. No doubt we’ll see you tomorrow,” she said before the pair left the room and went home.

*~*~*~*

After Helen and Spike had left, Buffy turned angrily to Giles.

“How could you let us think he was dead?” she shouted. “Christ, we held a wake for him and that was after he was back in L.A.!”

“Er…technically he was still dead then because he was a ghost,” interrupted Andrew. He quailed at her angry glare but continued. “We didn’t know that he was alive anyway, until I went to get Dana.” He added on bravely, referring to the deranged slayer that he’d recovered from Angel and Co., but not before she’d savagely attacked Spike.

“Shut up!” yelled Buffy, stalking about the room. “You never wanted us to be together,” she said, turning to face Giles. “You wanted him dead! You –”

Xander leapt up from where he was sitting and took hold of Buffy.

“Buff, that’s enough!” he said, giving her a bit of a shake. It was no use being gentle when a slayer had her blood up. “Giles has looked after him for the past few months, so how can you say he wants him dead now?”

Buffy collapsed into his arms weeping.

“I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “It’s just I’ve missed him so much.”

Xander held her until her crying subsided, and then he took her to sit on the sofa, still holding her close.

Giles looked at Buffy sadly. He knew that she’d take it hard but after so long, he’d hoped that it wouldn’t be as bad as this.

“He didn’t want you to know, Buffy. He wanted you to live a normal life.”

“Normal? Huh! As if a slayer can ever have a normal life.”

Dawn looked at her sister. She knew Buffy had gotten close to Spike after he’d acquired his sou,l but she had never guessed that her feelings were so deep. No wonder her relationships were always doomed. Any ‘normal’ guy didn’t last two minutes and as for The Immortal, well, that had been a very worrying time. He’d tried to take over Buffy’s life completely. Thankfully she’d come to her senses and had left him but the split had been acrimonious. It was not a great idea to piss off an evil immortal being to the extent that Buffy had.

“Let’s have some tea,” said Giles in his typically English way. “It’s been a trying day.”

“I’ll make it,” said Andrew, getting up.

“Now, Dawn, what are your plans? Are you going to university?” asked Giles.

“I’ve decided on a gap year before I go,” Dawn replied.

“Yes,” added Buffy. “We decided after all that’s happened that she deserved to freewheel a bit.”

The conversation settled down to less emotional subjects. Willow watched her friend closely, knowing that she was hiding her true feelings from everyone. Only Willow truly knew how deeply Buffy loved Spike.

*~*~*~*

Once Spike and Helen arrived home, Spike tried to act normally but from the looks he was getting from Helen he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“I think it’s time you told me some of your past, Spike. No, I mean it,” she said firmly as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Giles said Buffy was your sister but you sure as hell didn’t look like brother and sister when I came in. Then she said she was an old friend. What’s going on?”

Spike sighed and slumped down on the sofa.

“It’s complicated, pet.”

“I’ve got all night,” retorted Helen, standing in front of him, hands on her hips.

He moved to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him. She stepped away from his reach, finally sitting on one of the chairs round the dining table.

“I’m waiting.”

He’d never seen her like this. This was why he’d dreaded meeting up with the others, knowing the questions that it would throw up.

“Okay, Helen. I’ll tell you but first I need a drink.” He got up and poured himself a Jack Daniels, a large one.

He sat back down on the sofa knowing that Helen didn’t want him close just yet.

“Well, to start with, I’m not related to any of them - not Giles, not Andrew and not Buffy. I’ve known them for years. I worked with them, and when the last job ended we split up. I went to L.A. to help a friend out there and the others went to different countries. I kept in vague contact with Giles and Andrew but none of the others.”

“You said they thought that you were dead, why?” asked Helen.

“Look, love, let me tell you first, then you can ask your questions,” he continued. “Anyway, that’s why Andrew and Giles came looking for me. They knew without being a relation that they’d’ve never gotten me out of there, especially the state I was in mentally. So they came up with their story. They included Buffy in the mix ‘cause of what I’d said on the ward.”

“The rape,” whispered Helen, unable to keep quiet. “Tell me it wasn’t you.”

He looked away, unable to meet the hurt look in her eyes.

“Oh, my God!” Helen stood up. “You did do it!”

She didn’t know what to think. Spike had always been so gentle, so considerate, and so thoughtful. How could he possibly do that?

“No, Helen, please,” said Spike, looking into her eyes. “I didn’t…I mean I tried…but…I never…”

Helen turned to walk away.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” she cried.

He jumped up and took hold of her arm.

“Get off me!” she demanded furiously. “Don’t touch me!”

He let go of her arm and stood there, ashamed.

“I wasn’t myself then, love,” he said to her rigid back. “I was a de…er…I’ve changed. I’m not the same person, I was…ill.”

“So, not only did you try to rape her but you did it, what, because you were mentally ill? That makes a lot of difference, Spike, not!”

“Helen, look at me,” Spike pleaded, hating the pain he was causing and knowing that she’d never cope with the whole ‘honey I was a vampire’ thing.

“I know it was a terrible thing to do. I really do. I went away for a while and I did manage to make things better between Buffy and me. We were very close, then, the way our last job together ended, I was listed as missing so I just kept it that way. I guess I was being a coward but reckoned she’d be better off without me. She is, she’s in a relationship, has been since not long after I left. I did the right thing by her in the end.” Spike wished that Helen would turn around. “When you came in, what you saw wasn’t anything. She was just amazed to see me there. She was sorry I’d been hurt so badly.”

He remembered Buffy mentioning his limp, and knew that she was giving him the last thing he wanted – pity. She understood what it must be like to lose the power of being a vampire, of being able to heal wounds that wouldn’t in a human, since she had similar powers as a slayer.

“Helen, you’ve been my rock since I got out of the coma. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

She finally turned to face him, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“What?”

“I love you. Do you love me? It’s a simple question, Spike.”

He just stared at her unable to say the word.

“Fine,” said Helen. “That silence is a better answer than anything you could say.” She sat down head in hands, body wracked with sobs.

Spike walked over to her, dismayed at the pain that he’d caused.

“Pet, it’s not that I don’t have feelings for you, I do. I just don’t know if I’m capable of love,” he said, crossing his fingers at the lie. He knew he loved Buffy. “I’m afraid of it, I guess. I haven’t exactly set the world on fire in the relationship stakes.”

He sat down next to her and put his arm around her. This time she didn’t recoil from him.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked.

“I’m just asking you not to give up on me yet. I’m trying, Helen, I really am but,” he hesitated, “I can’t give you any promises. It all seems so hard since I was hum…er…hurt. Maybe getting back to work will help. I just feel so bloody useless. Maybe, I think I don’t really deserve you.”

“You don’t, Spike,” replied Helen. “You really don’t.”

She looked up at him, his face was etched with guilt at upsetting her. She kissed him.

“But I’m hooked. I can’t leave you because I do love you.”

“Oh, Helen,” said Spike, hugging her close and kissing her, before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the bedroom…

*~*~*~*

Spike didn’t go over to see the others the next day, pleading illness, something that he’d never been able to say as a vampire. The truth was that he was still trying to mend bridges with Helen. Trying to convince her, and himself, that they should stay together. Although they’d made love with enthusiasm last night, he knew that she was feeling insecure about him.

I’ve just got to concentrate on Helen and work and forget Buffy. It can never be. Helen’s here, she loves me. Buffy never will. It has to stop.

Chapter #13 - Chapter Thirteen: Avoidance

Chapter #14 - Chapter Fourteen: Time For Goodbyes

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Posting TWO chapters per day - so make sure you don't get muddled! The one with an odd number is the second one:D

Time For Goodbyes

Soon, the day before Xander, Dawn and Buffy’s departure arrived. Buffy and Spike had seen each other several times as Spike called in at the Council to organise his work schedule. They had been polite but carefully avoided being alone together.

It had been arranged that everyone would meet at the restaurant for the grand farewell meal.

When Spike and Helen arrived the others were already there, sitting and enjoying a pre-dinner drink. Everyone had dressed up for the occasion. Helen was wearing a brown dress with white polka dots that emphasised her figure and brought out the colour of her eyes. Spike’s idea of dressing up was to wear a shirt instead of a T shirt over his black jeans. “I don’t do suits, love”, was his answer to Helen’s query.

Xander and Andrew looked very smart in suits with colourful ties, Giles, as usual, a bit tweedy, and Dawn looked stunning in a red cocktail dress. All signs of a gawky teenager were gone - she looked like she should be on the catwalk of some fashion show. Willow was resplendent in a long flowing purple dress, but it was Buffy that Spike inevitably focussed on. She literally took his breath away, the blue silk dress clinging in all the right places.

With effort, Spike dragged his eyes away from her and tried to concentrate on the small talk. When they were shown to their table Spike made sure that he didn’t sit next to Buffy, but since the table was round he ended up sitting almost opposite her. It was made of smoked glass and showed reflections clearly. Spike studied his for a moment. After over a hundred and twenty years of not having one, it still felt a little strange when he saw himself, noting as always the scar on his forehead, and the crinkled up eyelid of his left eye. It was just another reminder of how he couldn’t compete with The Immortal, the demon’s good looks were legendary.

Towards the end of the meal Buffy said that she’d got something to tell everyone.

“Dawn, Giles and I have been talking a lot over these past few days and between us we’ve come to a decision.” She looked at the faces round the table and then looked at Willow as she said, “Dawn and I are going to stay over here.”

“Oh, Buffy, that’s great!” exclaimed Willow as everyone started talking at once.

Helen had been watching Spike as Buffy made her announcement. He’d kept his head down, fiddling with his napkin, but when she’d said that she was staying he’d lifted his eyes to glance at Buffy. There was no mistaking that he had major feelings for her - it was written all over his face. Then swiftly his expression changed and he reverted to looking at his napkin. Helen’s heart sank at what she’d seen.

Why couldn’t Buffy just go back to Rome? We were fine before she came back, Helen thought sadly.

She shifted in her seat a little. Spike, noticing the movement, turned to her and went to hold her hand that was resting on the table. She pulled her hand away and turned her attention to Andrew, who was seated on her left. Spike realised that she must have noticed that for a moment, his heart had swelled at the thought of Buffy staying here until he remembered how hard it would be seeing something you want so badly everyday but can’t have.

Good going, Spike. The one you want doesn’t want you and the one who wants you, you just keep on hurting.

As the cacophony of voices calmed down, Giles beckoned to a waiter to get some champagne, deciding it was definitely cause for celebration.

Willow saw her chance to put something out in the open.

“So what made you decide to stay over here?” she asked. “Is it because you’ve ended your relationship with The Immortal?”

At her words Spike looked up and met Buffy’s eyes properly for the first time that evening. This time he couldn’t look away. She wasn’t with The Immortal! As he stared at Buffy he hoped to see some sign that he had a chance with her, but he found her impossible to read and after a few moments, it was Buffy who broke eye contact.

“The Immortal?” queried Helen.

“Oh, that’s just his nickname ‘cause he thinks he’s God’s gift,” said Willow quickly, aware that she’d made a faux pas by mentioning him in front of Helen but she knew that she had to take the chance.

“Well, he’s a part of the decision obviously,” said Buffy, getting around to answering Willow’s question, “but we decided that I’d be better off at the Council’s H.Q. since I’m the senior sla…er…field officer.” She corrected, remembering Helen’s presence.

Huh! As if I could forget her, thought Buffy. It hurt to see them together, but she didn’t think Rome was the best place to be with The Immortal pissed off, and Dawn could work at the Council doing research with Willow, before hopefully going to university over here.

They lingered over the champagne, chatting away. Only Spike and Helen didn’t contribute much to the conversation. When they all finally left Helen and Spike got a taxi on their own, the others sharing two more. All of them were aware that Spike and Helen had stopped talking and none fancied sharing a cab with an atmosphere like that.

In the backseat of the taxi Helen sat as close to the window as possible, again shrugging off Spike’s contact.

Fine! thought Spike. I bloody well don’t need this. And he sat on the other side gazing out of the window.

The cab driver had seen it all before.

Uh oh! he thought. This’ll end in tears, no doubt. He dropped them off at their door.

Spike unlocked the door and stepped to the side to let Helen walk in first. She marched past him, hurling her bag on the sofa as she got into the lounge room.

Spike looked at this woman who’d helped him so much and hated the hurt that he’d caused her again. He knew that he’d have to end it, whether he ever got with Buffy or not. He couldn’t offer Helen half of what she deserved, and couldn’t let her waste her life on him when his heart was elsewhere.

“Helen –”

“Don’t, Spike,” she interrupted. “Just don’t say a word.” She went into the bedroom, slamming the door with finality.

Christ, what a bloody mess, thought Spike as he took off his jacket and boots and looked at the sofa.

“It appears me and you will be spending the night together,” he said as he sat on it. He eventually laid down and went to sleep.

*~*~*~*

Spike was up at the crack of dawn the next day and decided to go straight out for his run. He knew that he was doing it to avoid the inevitable confrontation with Helen, but he went anyway. He’d never avoided a fight as a vampire, but he just couldn’t handle the emotional side of things as a human.

He ran hard and further than usual, arriving home an hour and a half later. As he opened the door he almost fell over a suitcase in the hall.

“Helen!” he called as he went into the lounge.

She appeared from the bedroom carrying a coat. They looked at each other without speaking for what seemed like an age.

“Helen…”

“Spike…”

They both started to speak at the same time. Spike inclined his head indicating that she go first.

“I’m going back to L.A., Spike,” she stated calmly. “I’ve done a lot of thinking and this is what I’ve decided to do.”

“But Helen I…” he stopped. He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t beg her to stay but perversely didn’t want her to leave either.

“Look, Spike, I’m going and that won’t change. If we truly are meant to be together we will be. I really feel we need some space to decide what we want. I love you, Spike,” her voice catching a little, “but I can’t be here with you when you’re still obsessed with Buffy.”

Spike opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him with a look. After all it’s not like she was wrong.

“You’ve got serious issues, major issues and not just with Buffy. Goddammit, Spike, you’ve never shared anything from your past with me. I know I said I could deal, but I can’t. It just makes me think I don’t really know you at all. You know where I’ll be if you decide I’m what you want, and you’re ready to share.”

A horn honked outside. Helen glanced out of the window and went to the hall, picking up her case.

“What? You’re leaving now? But –” said Spike.

“Yes,” she cut him off. “I’m going now. I managed to get a seat on the first flight to L.A.”

“Helen, I never meant, I mean…”

“I know, Spike,” she said, looking at him as tears started to fall. “You never gave me any promises - it’s my fault.”

“No. It’s mine. I’ve never been any good at relationships. I’m so, so sorry, Helen.”

He went to her and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. He hugged her tightly, and then the taxi honked its horn again.

“I’ve got to go,” said Helen. She stretched up and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Spike.” With that she picked up her case, went out of the door and climbed into the cab.

Spike stood there numb, watching her leave. When the taxi was out of sight he slammed the door with all his might and strode into the kitchen, picking up his coffee mug from earlier, he hurled it against the wall where it smashed into a dozen pieces.

“Bollocks!” he shouted. “Why do I always end up hurting those around me?”

He looked at the time.

“Christ, I’m going to be late!” He went off to grab a quick shower and change. Today was his first official day at work.

*~*~*~*

He walked into the training room in the Watcher’s Council. It was a huge room, basically all of the basement space of the building. It was equipped like no other gymnasium on earth. In addition to the usual weights and treadmills, there were rows upon rows of weapons ranging from simple wooden stakes to shining lethally sharp swords and axes.

A group of eight girls were doing warm up stretches accompanied by Buffy, who had her back to him. He couldn’t help but notice how good her arse looked in her lycra leggings. He paused, not quite sure what to do. When he’d been given the job of training the new slayers he’d assumed that he’d be on his own - in charge. Now that Buffy was staying, it was logical that she’d be the one; after all, she still had the powers that he’d lost. He’d been a vampire last time that he’d helped train, using his superior senses to test the girls, but what could he do now? A lame human?

Bloody charity, that’s what it is, he thought furiously, but he honestly didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t working for the Council. He had no real skills to fall back on other than fighting techniques, the ability to hot wire a car and…well, that was about it. Over a century of just stealing whatever you wanted didn’t look good on a resume.

He started to turn to leave, thinking that he’d better offer to help in the research department. At least he’d be able to chat to the, now not so little, Bit and Red.

“You’re late,” said Buffy, all businesslike and not a little bossy.

“Oh…I…er…” stammered Spike, taken aback.

“No excuses, just get your ass over here so we can get started.”

He flushed slightly and started to walk over to the girls, his limp more pronounced due to the hammering he’d given it earlier. He caught a couple of the girls looking at him in distain, which pissed him off, but he could see their point. He’d been bawled out for being late and was now limping over, not exactly a great first impression.

“Girls,” said Buffy. “I want you to meet someone who, if you’ve done all the required reading, you will most definitely have heard of.”

Spike was pleased to see that that had gotten their attention.

“This is Spike, William the Bloody that was.”

A gasp went through the girls. A couple near the front actually took a step back.

Spike’s ego was nicely massaged by their reaction. He’d missed the old ‘oh my God don’t let him bite me’ looks he used to get. A little infamy was no bad thing in his eyes.

“So who’s going to tell us who Spike is?”

A tall dark haired girl at the back put her hand up. Buffy nodded for her to speak.

“He’s er…”

Spike smiled at the girl encouragingly, which actually had the opposite effect.

“He’s …er…Well…”

“Oh, for God’s sake, spit it out,” snapped Buffy.

“He’s er…one of the most notorious and vicious vampires ever known. Sired by Drusilla in 1880 and the killer of two slayers, one in 1900 in China and one in New York in 1977. According to the diaries, he also now has a soul, like Angel --”

“I’m nothing like bloody Angel,” said Spike, unable to control himself.

“But it said he’d died in the Sunnydale Hellmouth averting The First’s apocalypse,” the girl continued.

Buffy shot him a harsh look. Spike kicked himself for having said anything. It was hardly a way to endear himself to her - moaning about her ex-lover, especially now he was dead.

“Very good. Just one little problem with the diaries you’ve been reading - they’re a little out of date. As you can see he most definitely isn’t dead and another thing is that he’s no longer a vampire.”

The girls looked astonished.

“He’s human just like us,” continued Buffy.

“Well, actually I’m more human than you are since a slayer’s strength is in fact formed from a little bit of demon,” Spike corrected.

“Thank you, Spike,” snapped Buffy. “Anyways, the gist of it is that although he’s now human and on our side –”

“I was on your side when I was a vampire."

“He has obviously decades of experience about exactly what being a vampire is, what drives it, where it’s likely to be living and so on.” Buffy ignored his comment. “He has excellent knowledge of fighting skills so I want you to give him your full attention whenever he’s instructing you. Any questions?”

A hand went up.

“How come you’re human?”

Spike answered this one.

“To cut a long story short, it was a reward for helping avert an apocalypse - an ancient prophecy that actually came true. If it had taken a little more time to come through my vampire healing skills would’ve had this leg perfect, but unfortunately it kicked in soon after I was injured so the limp stayed.” He correctly guessed that mentioning the limp himself would stop the girls from pretending not to notice it.

“I’m still pretty quick so don’t think you can take advantage, well not in that way anyway,” he said with a grin that got all the girls giggling.

“Settle down!” shouted Buffy, thinking how typical of Spike it was to disrupt things. Some things never changed.

When they stopped for lunch, Spike didn’t go with the others into the large kitchen; instead he went out to the garden at the back of the building. He was sitting there lost in his thoughts when Willow appeared.

“I noticed you didn’t get anything to eat,” she said as she handed him a sandwich and cold drink.

“Thanks, Red, but not really hungry,” he said, taking them and putting them on the bench next to him.

“Mind if I join you?” Willow asked, sitting down before he could reply.

“Uh…I guess not,” said Spike rolling his eyes.

“Are you okay? Just thought you might be enjoying your first day’s work a bit more than you seem to be doing. You’ve gone all avoidy on us.”

“Look, you know I’m not one for sharing but I’m okay, or I will be okay. First day’s proper work in over a century is bit of a shock to the system,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

Willow thought about taking a sneaky peep at his thoughts but stopped herself. She didn’t really need to, anyway. The close proximity of Buffy all morning was affecting him. At least he knew now that she was single.

Little did she know that his thoughts, although filled with Buffy, weren’t of hoping to be together, but of sadness that he was sure she would rather he wasn’t there. All morning she’d barely met his eye and if she had spoken to him at all she’d been very snappy.

At the same time that Spike was moping in the garden, Buffy had retreated to Giles’ sitting room to escape the incessant chatter of the girls. It didn’t help that most of it was about Spike.

“Ooh! He’s so sexy!”

“That accent’s really cool!”

“When he guided me on how to throw someone to the floor I thought I’d faint!”

She couldn’t stand it. To be so near someone she loved but who was with someone else was just torture. She knew now how Spike must have felt half the time he’d been in love with her.

God! I don’t think staying in London was such a good idea. Buffy looked at her watch. Huh! Great. Time to go back to the training room, just what I need - more girls eyeing him up. No wonder he’s been oblivious to me.

When Buffy arrived at the room Spike was already there, obviously not wanting to be told off again for being late. He was leaning against a piece of apparatus. The girls sat on gym mats, hanging on his every word as he was telling him of how he killed the slayer during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900.

“Is that really an appropriate story?” asked Buffy harshly.

“You once thought it would help you to know how I killed the slayers, so I reckoned this lot would benefit, too,” he replied, calmly looking into her eyes for the first time that day.

Buffy quickly looked away, remembering how horrid she’d been to him that day.

You’re beneath me, Spike. It’ll never be you.

She glanced back at him and could tell that he was thinking the same thing. He had a hurt expression on his face until he realised she’d seen it and he quickly turned back to the girls to continue his tale.

At the end of the day Spike changed into his running gear, figuring that incorporating his runs into getting to and from work made sense. Now that the nights were drawing in it meant that he didn’t need to be out in the dark for his second run, something he’d avoided since that night in L.A. when he'd been attacked by the vampire.

As he walked out of the changing room, he literally bumped into Buffy as she walked past.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, grabbing her to prevent her from falling. Touching her sent a frisson through his body like an electric shock. He let go of her as soon as she was steady on her feet.

“’S okay,” said Buffy.

She looked at him standing before her. She took in his healthy tan and toned body, and then her eyes were drawn to his left leg. It bore the scars of the operations that it had undergone whilst he’d been in the coma. She could see where the muscle had been irreparably damaged on his thigh. Instinctively, she reached out to touch it.

Spike stepped back out of her reach.

“Yeah, I know. Not a pretty sight,” he said curtly, turning and walking away. “See you tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder as he stepped out onto the street.

Christ! Why did I have to wear shorts today, not my jogging pants? Another bleeding thing to put her off, as if she needs any more!

Buffy stood where he’d left her.

Helen’s a very lucky girl. I’ve got to move on.

Spike didn’t do his usual leisurely hour’s running. He went straight to the apartment as if the hounds of hell were on his heels, almost knocking people out of his way. He fumbled the key into the lock and strode inside, left leg searing with pain. He stalked round the empty flat unable to settle.

“Buffy, Buffy, it's always bleeding Buffy!” he cried. He lashed out with his left foot, balancing on his right, and kicked at the TV. The screen shattered, some of the glass cutting his ankle.

“Bollocks!”

He abruptly sat down on the sofa and put his head in his hands, his temper giving way to depression.

“Get a grip, Spike,” he said. “This can’t bloody well go on or I’ll be back on the psych ward for good. It’s driving me mental!”

Chapter #15 - Chapter Fifteen: The Truth Will Out

Chapter #16 - Chapter Sixteen: Out in the Open

Chapter #17 - Chapter Seventeen: New Arrival

Chapter #18 - Chapter Eighteen: A Trip to London

Chapter #19 - Chapter Nineteen: Trouble

Chapter #20 - Chapter Twenty: Unpleasant Truths

Chapter #21 - Chapter Twenty-One: Where's Spike?

Chapter #22 - Chapter Twenty-Two: Hello Mr. Parker

Chapter #23 - Chapter Twenty-Three:In the Dark

Chapter #24 - Chapter Twenty-Four: Rescue

Chapter #25 - Chapter Twenty-Five: Home

Chapter #26 - Chapter Twenty-Six: Coming to Terms

Chapter #27 - Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Sight For Sore Eyes

Chapter #28 - Chapter Twenty-Eight: Good As New

A/N Betad by seapealsh and dawnofme
Banner by dawnofme

This is my first fanficion - posted Aug 07 on ff.net and elsewhere. I thought I'd dust it off and post it here. Third chapter today! Make sure you haven't missed any.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Good As New

Not surprisingly, Spike didn’t want to return to live at the cottage, and so it was decided that Buffy, Giles and Andrew would go and pack up their belongings and bring everything back to London. They’d use their current room for now. They had joked with Xander that he was only leaving to get out of helping with the move. He had left for L.A. the day before. He was going to join the staff at the L.A. branch of the Watchers Council.

Spike had tried to use some of the gym equipment in the training room in an effort to get fitter but the wound to his back had left him with weakened strength in his back and legs. Add to that, the further damage that he’d suffered to his left leg and he knew that he wouldn’t be running anywhere again. He hated not being strong. He knew he was lucky to be alive, lucky to have Buffy and Joy, and lucky to have regained his vision, but he wanted more.

An idea that he’d had for a while turned into a plan when he knew that Buffy, Giles and Andrew were going to be away for a few days at the cottage. He approached Willow, who took some convincing, but finally agreed to help.

Dawn wasn’t included in Spike’s plan, so he and Willow made up a cover story of important research that explained why they were huddled together in the library. It was mostly true anyway as before Spike put his plan into action, he needed Willow’s expertise to make sure that they knew exactly what would happen and what they needed.

“Spike, I need that volume of Lantes Compendium from the end bookcase. Can you get it for me please? I just want to finish this bit I’m working on first,” said Willow.

“Yeah, no worries.”

Spike got up and went to get it. Willow, seeing him limp slowly over to the other side of the room, could understand why he was willing to take the risk. He’d always been so athletic, even with carrying the limp in his left leg since being made human. But the damage The Immortal had done, meant his gait now resembled that of a very old man, which technically he was, but it pained her to see him like that, and she knew how frustrating he found it. She wished her spells would have worked but despite trying again when Spike first approached her with his plan, they still had no effect.

Finally, they were ready. Spike and Willow armed themselves with weapons and went on the hunt.

“It’s the first time I’ve patrolled since being made human,” said Spike.

They walked along, knowing that Spike’s slow limping gait and Willow being female made them good bait for the trap that they were setting, but equally they had to be careful that they did manage not just to end up as victims.

Hearts racing they walked along the dark alley, eyes scanning for trouble. Suddenly a vampire leapt out in front of them. He wasn’t particularly tall and was of slight build, probably in his late teens when he was turned. Perfect, as long as he was alone.

The vampire seemed a bit put out that neither Willow nor Spike had screamed when they saw him, so he tried a growl and lunged for Willow. Spike, crossbow at the ready, fired a bolt into the vampire’s leg.

“Ow!” he cried. “What the hell?”

He looked at Willow, who was holding a stake, pointing it at him with as much malice as she could muster. He started to back off, not liking the odds of two well-armed people against just him.

“Oh no you don’t, mate,” said Spike, raising the crossbow again, this time pointing it at the vampire’s heart. “Another step and you’re dust. Got a little proposition for you. It does mean you have to come with us but since the alternative is me letting Red, here, loose with her pointy stick I think you’ll agree to it,” said Spike with a sneer.

“No way am I coming with you,” said the vamp, preferring to take his chances by running away.

He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he was showered with a glittery green powder that Willow threw on him. He collapsed unconscious.

“Useful stuff,” said Spike dryly.

The pair dragged the vampire to the van parked just around the corner.

“Thank God that he wasn’t any bigger,” gasped Willow as they heaved him in the back.

Back at the Council they drove the van into the underground car park and manhandled the vampire into one of the cells - something all Watchers Council buildings have, just in case. They chained him to the wall by his wrists and Willow showered him again with the powder to reverse the spell.

He came to his senses quickly, he leapt to his feet and tugged at the chains but he soon realised that he was trapped.

“So what’s the proposition then?” he asked, guessing if they’d wanted to kill him they would have done by now.

“Thing is we want you to bite me,” said Spike. “You’re going to turn me into a vampire and then you can go.”

“Why would I do that?” replied the vampire.

“Simple,” said Willow. “You either do it or you die and we find someone else who will.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t sired anyone before? Just my bleeding luck to pick up a sodding virgin,” jeered Spike.

“Oh, yeah? What do you know about it anyway?” asked the vampire.

“Ever heard of William the Bloody?” asked Spike.

“Yeah, what vampire hasn’t? He’s a hero, well was ‘til he got dusted in L.A. a while back. Why?”

“You’re looking at him,” said Willow, indulging Spike in his bragging.

“No way! What do you think I am? He’s bloody human!”

“Yeah, well see, therein lies my problem. I didn’t get dusted, I got turned human instead. I’m a bit bored of it now so I want to get back to how I should be. How many have you sired then?”

“Ten, at least ten,” said the vampire.

Willow and Spike just stared at him.

“Okay, okay. Four, all right?”

Willow and Spike looked at each other. Spike gave a small nod indicating that this one would do. It had been important not to have someone who hadn’t done this before, as it’s a fine line between draining enough blood for someone to turn and killing them outright.

Willow approached the vampire with a needle and syringe.

“What’s that for?” he asked in alarm.

“We need some of your blood in case you change your mind halfway through and just try to kill him. Then I’ll have to stake you,” said Willow. “Now hold still or I’ll have to use another spell.”

“No way will I try to kill him! The chance to re-sire Spike, the legend that is William the Bloody! As long as you’ll let me be in your gang, God, it’ll be an honour.”

“Still,” said Spike, “humour the little witch for me. She likes to be methodical. Course you’ll be in my gang! Sire’s privileges and all.”

Getting blood out of someone whose heart doesn’t beat isn’t that easy but Willow managed to get enough after a few attempts.

“Hope you’re feeling peckish,” said Spike, approaching the vampire and turning his head to expose his jugular vein.

The vamp hesitated for a second then put on his vampire face and sank his teeth into Spike with relish.

Christ, thought Spike. That sodding hurts!

He started to lose consciousness. The vampire lowered himself down, still drinking Spike’s blood as his body reached the floor. At the crucial time he bit his own wrist and put it to Spike’s lips. Spike swallowed some of the vampire’s blood before passing out completely - well, dying would be more accurate.

The vampire stood up and looked at Spike as he lay on the ground.

“So what now? Do we wait for him to turn and then get out of here?”

“No, you’re getting out of here now,” said Willow.

“But he said I could be in his gang,” protested the vampire.

“Thing is, William the Bloody always lies." Willow rammed her stake into his heart.

She choked slightly on the dust and felt guilty since he’d done what they had asked, but there was no way that he could be released. She looked down at Spike. She knelt by his body and felt for a pulse – none. She put the chains on his wrists and went out of the cell, locking the door behind her.

“I hope this bit works as planned,” she muttered to herself. She’d know by morning.

*~*~*~*

At six a.m. Willow was back at the cell, coming down before Dawn or Joy surfaced. She pulled back the observation shutter and peered in. Spike was lying exactly as she’d left him.

“God no! It didn’t work. He’s dead!”

She opened the door as quickly as she could and bent down to reach out to touch Spike. He suddenly jumped up snarling in full vamp mode. Willow squealed and fell backwards landing on her butt.

“Shite! Sorry, Red. I just couldn’t resist,” said Spike, offering a hand to help her up, his grin a bit toothier than normal as he still had his vamp face on.

She took his hand, got up and then kicked him, hard.

“Not funny!” she yelled.

Spike de-vamped his face.

“Sorry. I heard you coming for ages, could smell you. I’ve been pretty bored and it seemed a good idea when I thought it,” said Spike sincerely.

“’S okay, suppose it was kinda funny,” agreed Willow.

Part one was complete. Spike was now back to being a vampire with a soul. Willow had double checked the prophecy and found, as Andrew had, that Spike’s soul was safe. Her expert digging had turned up something that Andrew hadn’t found. The fact that if Spike was bitten by his original sire, Drusilla, then the prophecy would be forfeit and his soul and humanity lost. Other than that, the prophecy appeared to be a perpetual one, basically insisting that Spike keeps his soul and stays human. According to Willow’s calculations that part would kick in soon, and Spike would revert to being human within a few days.

The tricky part now was not to let Dawn know that Spike was a vampire and they both hoped that the prophecy would kick in before the others returned, as neither fancied facing Buffy’s reaction if it hadn’t.

Spike held his hands out for Willow to unlock the chains. She hesitated for a moment before she did, checking psychically that his soul was intact. It was, so she released him.

“So how do you feel?” she asked.

“Absolutely terrific and I’m starving! You did remember the blood, didn’t you?” said Spike gleefully.

The power he could feel coursing through him – God, he’d forgotten how good it felt to be a vampire.

“Ew! Yes, I remembered. It’s in the fridge in the kitchen near your room,” she replied. “But what I meant was, how’s your leg? Your back? Did it work?”

Spike took a few steps. There was no sign of a limp and he could feel no pain or weakness in his back. He went out of the cell and ran along the corridor as fast as he could. He ran back to Willow and picked her up, spinning her round and round until they both collapsed laughing. It had worked.

So far so good. Luckily the day was one of those particularly grey and dull days that London can have in the fall so Spike didn’t have too much trouble avoiding sunlight when Dawn was about. He made sure to not let her see that his limp was gone. He helped with Joy, delighting in her. All at once there was a sharp stab of pain in his head.

“Ow, ow!” He put Joy down fearing that he’d drop her.

Willow was there in an instant. Was something going wrong?”

“Bleeding hell,” said Spike, wondering where that had come from, then they hit him - all the locked away memories of Joy, her birth, the first time he’d held her, taking her home, they all came flooding back. It was one side effect that they’d never even thought about.

“I can remember her, Red, from before. The memories have come back.”

“That’s fantastic!” said Willow, smiling broadly at him.

*~*~*~*

The next morning Spike woke and walked into the bathroom, a quick glance at the mirror confirmed what he already knew. No reflection, still a vampire.

Oh well, least if I stay a vampire I’m strong enough to protect my girls their whole lives.

Later that day Buffy phoned to say they’d be back that evening rather than the next day as planned as the work was done and she was missing Spike and Joy like mad.

“Looks like we might have to face the music, Red,” said Spike as he told her the news.

“You can do the talking and I’ll just do the standing behind you nodding part,” said Willow, wondering what Buffy would think.

*~*~*~*

Spike thought that he’d better have that night’s ration of pigs’ blood before Buffy and the others got home. Funny how it looks disgusting when human but delicious when a vamp, he thought with a chuckle.

He’d just washed the cup up when he heard them pull up outside in the van. He ran along the corridor and had the front door open before they’d even got out of it, another plus for enhanced vampire senses.

“Spike,” called Buffy. “Did you see us coming?”

“Yeah,” he lied as he walked over to the van where Buffy, Giles and Andrew were starting to unload boxes. Intent on their tasks no one noticed Spike as he walked towards them. Buffy turned to put a heavy box on the floor and almost dropped it. Spike caught it.

“Here, let me get it,” he said.

“But Spike, it’s too heavy for you. Your back,” said Buffy, then she stood there open mouthed as he effortlessly took it from her and carried it up the steps and into the hall.

He put it down and looked at Buffy, smiling broadly, head tilted slightly to one side.

“Spike, your limp? What’s happened?”

“I’ll give you the details later, love, but I’m cured! Limp’s gone. I even got my memories of Joy back!”

He ran down the steps, hugged her tight and kissed her.

“Hey!” she cried. “You’re cold.” She pulled herself out of his grip. “What the hell is going on?”

So much for having Red’s back up,thought Spike, Willow, wisely, was nowhere to be seen.

“Well, thing is, to get better, first I had to get worse,” he said, changing into his vampire face as he spoke. “Bloody hell, woman!” he added as Buffy punched him in the face.

He looked up to see Giles and Andrew brandishing stakes.

“He’s gone evil!” yelled Andrew.

“No, I bleeding haven’t!” Spike yelled back but not convincing him as he forgot he was still in vamp mode and accidentally did growl a bit. “I’ve still got my soul,” he added sheepishly.

All three of them stood looking at him. He de-vamped and said to them, “I’m sorry, bit of fun is all.”

“Not the best idea you’ve ever had,” replied Buffy primly.

Spike looked at her, his remorse was written all over his face.

“Okay, so you’re not evil but when I left you were human, and now you sure aren’t,” she said sternly. “Let’s get inside and then you owe us all some answers.”

They decided to leave the rest of the stuff in the van for now so Giles drove it to the garage and Buffy, Andrew and Spike went in. Spike noticed that Andrew still held his stake.

“Andrew, I’m really sorry, mate, especially after you helped me get out from The Immortal’s place. Bad move. I’ll watch your Farscape DVDs with you if you like?”

Andrew’s face lit up at that. Usually only Xander would watch his favourite shows with him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “But you bring the snacks.”

They went up to the sitting room and waited until everyone was gathered there before Spike told them what he and Willow had done. Dawn was furious to have been kept in the dark but did realise it’d been done to protect her just in case anything had gone wrong.

“We were just hoping it would’ve kicked in by now and I’d be back to being human before you got back,” he finished.

“Spike, you know I didn’t love you any less for being injured like you were, don’t you?” said Buffy.

“Yeah, I know, Buffy, sweetheart, but to be honest I did it for me. I hated not being able to run, to lift you up or the thought of not being able to play with Joy when she’s older. I need to know I can protect my family whether you want me to or not.”

“So when will it happen? What if it doesn’t?”

“I’m not sure. You may have to get used to having a younger looking man in your life when you’ve gotten old,” joked Spike.

He got a glare in return. He looked over at Willow with a ‘help me out here’ look on his face. She duly obliged.

“Buffy, it will happen, certainly within the next couple of days. I triple checked everything before we went ahead. When do I ever get research wrong?” she said, realising now wasn’t the time to be modest.

“It better,” said Buffy seriously.

She looked at Spike.

“I prefer my lovers more than room temperature these days.” Then she grinned at him. She couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

To make up for scaring them, Spike cooked everyone dinner.

*~*~*~*

It was two nights later when it happened. Spike and Buffy were asleep. Spike woke up. Something felt very strange, very wrong. He felt he was suffocating, which was weird since vampires don’t need to breathe. He sat up, hands at his throat, panic rising in him.

Suddenly he felt a sort of thump in his chest and felt his heart start to beat, literally feeling the blood start to course through his veins. He gasped, as he took in a deep lungful of air as he started to breathe. He felt a bit nauseous and light headed. He was glad he’d been unconscious the first time this had happened, as it was a most peculiar feeling even when he knew what must be happening.

But had the plan worked? Was his body still healed? His back was hurting. “Damn!” Then he realised that he’d been holding himself rigid throughout the transformation. He relaxed and the pain disappeared. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. A couple of steps later and he had his answer. It had worked - his injuries were no more!

He no longer felt as powerful as he had as a vampire. He knew that he wouldn’t but as he stood there in the bathroom looking at his reflection, he felt stronger than he ever had as a human and that was more than good enough.

Smiling, he walked back and got into bed. He’d pulled some of the covers off Buffy as he’d got up and in her sleep, she was trying to find them. Spike snuggled up to her, pulling the covers over both of them.

“Mm, you’re nice and warm,” said Buffy sleepily.

“Yeah, I am, pet,” said Spike.

She woke up properly as she realised that she’d felt his warm breath on her cheek, something she’d missed these last couple of nights.

“It happened,” she said.

“It happened,” he agreed.

Joy woke up and started to cry. Spike got out of bed and picked her up. After a few seconds she stopped crying -she always was a daddy’s girl. He took her back to the big bed and as he sat there, arms round each of his girls he thought that things couldn’t get better.

Once Joy was back to sleep, he gently placed her back in her cot and rejoined Buffy in bed.

“We’re a proper family, Buffy,” he said, kissing her passionately.

“It’s just perfect,” said Buffy, responding to her lover’s kisses ardently.

Spike pulled Buffy under the covers to show her how fit a human he really was!

*~*~*~*

A train pulled up at London’s King’s Cross station. It was the last train of the night and few passengers got off. A tall striking dark haired woman dressed unusually in a long flowing blood red dress and black coat stepped down from the furthest carriage. She carried a small doll under her arm.

“Well, Miss Edith,” said Drusilla. “Home Sweet Home.”

THE END

Thank you for reading - check out the sequel Dangerous - coming soon on here or see my lj or other archives. http://mabel-marsters.livejournal.com