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 Twenty-Six


Coming To Terms


Giles had been sitting next to Spike’s bed for about an hour before he started to stir, moving restlessly on the bed. Spike groaned a few times before he opened his eyes. The darkness didn’t alter, and he sat up disorientated, feeling the soft bed and blankets.


“Spike? It’s okay - you’re safe,” Giles said the words softly but Spike still jumped as he spoke.


“What? Oh. Yeah. Giles. Right,” said Spike in a bit of a muddle.


“Can I get you anything?” asked Giles.


“Um…er…a drink…please.”


Giles poured half a glass of water from the bottle that he had ready by the bedside.


“Here.” He put it carefully into Spike’s outstretched hand. “Don’t drink it too fast otherwise you may be sick,” cautioned Giles.


“Sorry about before,” said Spike, remembering.


“Forget it,” said Giles.


Spike sipped the water slowly, mercifully holding it down. He went to put the glass down then realised he didn’t know where. He resisted the urge to throw it away.


“Here, let me,” said Giles, accurately guessing at Spike’s thoughts. “Are you up to talking?”


“Yeah, I think so,” replied Spike.


“Buffy’s desperate to see you."


“No! I don’t want to s…um…her to come.”


Giles didn’t miss how he’d stumbled on the word ‘see’.


“It’s not fair to shut her out,” replied Giles gently.


“Not just yet Giles, I just…it’s…”


“Okay, Spike, okay, but you can’t keep her away forever. She loves you.”


Spike turned his head away, not trusting himself to speak. Part of him longed to have her near, but another part just couldn’t see the point. She hadn’t wanted him when he was strong and could look out for her, so why should she want him now when he was the one needing looking after? He’d always been a bit chauvinistic. The memories that remained of her showed them as a team fighting demons, saving the world.


“So, tell me what happened,” Giles coaxed gently.


Spike slowly, faltering over parts where Giles guessed he’d been beaten, told of the two vamps jumping him, waking up chained to a wall, and then being taken to the house where they had found him.


He told of The Immortal and the tiny icy cold room where the walls were so rough they’d cut his skin. Spike asked for more water before he told Giles of his first encounter with Mr. Parker and his creatures.


“Same sort of thingy you used on me once,” said Spike, showing that his spirit hadn’t been totally crushed.


“A Prokaryote?” asked Giles.


“No, this was a Eukaryote, I think. Same way of getting in but…” he hesitated.


“More painful,” said Giles quietly. My God! Poor Spike! The creatures were evil causing terrific pain and damage.


“Yeah, just a bit,” said Spike dryly. “The thing is they said it’d be worse if I resisted. I tried to stop it eating my memories, I just couldn’t give up Buffy without a fight, could I? But I got this ‘cause of it,” he gestured to his eyes, “and the bleeder still got my memories of her. Christ knows what it would’ve done if it hadn’t got them.”


Giles suddenly knew why the damage was so extreme. He knew how the creatures worked. Spike must have successfully shielded the memories of Joy, but then they were somehow lost to him too when the slug bored its way back through his mind. Now wasn’t the time to mention the baby.


“What memories do you have of Buffy?” asked Giles.


“Patrolling with her, helping her out. That sort of thing.”


“Any recent? Since you were human?”


“No, nothing.”


“Spike, you do have to realise that you and Buffy have been living together for over a year. The cottage where you were kidnapped, that’s your home.”


“What? Me and Buffy? Really?” asked Spike incredulously.


“That’s right, Spike. That’s why she needs to see you."


“That bastard creature stole all that?”


“Seems like it, Spike. So do I go and get her?”


“No!” Spike’s answer was almost a shout. “No,” he repeated quietly. “Please not yet.”


Again, Giles agreed knowing how hard Buffy would take it.


“One thing to focus on, Spike, is that the blindness often isn’t permanent. There’s a chance that you’ll improve.”


Spike didn’t say anything, just gave a slight nod before telling him of the encounter with the Apala spider. He glossed over the details, just saying it hurt like hell and that it’d left a bloody great hole in his back, which Giles had obviously seen last night or day or whenever it bloody was.


“It was night, Spike. It’s morning now - just after seven.”


“Well, the rest you know,” finished Spike.


“Are you hungry? I know that it’s breakfast time but I think you’re better off just with fluids for now. Can I get you some soup?”


“Thanks, Giles, I think I can stomach something and I want to get out of these pyjamas. They’re not mine.”


“Oh, how do you know that?” asked Giles, kicking himself as soon as he said it for being so thoughtless.


“’Cause I don’t own any.” said Spike with a bit of a smile. He could picture the look on Giles’ face as he said it.


“Um…er…well, I’ll go and rustle up that soup,” said Giles and he left.


As soon as he heard the door close, Spike regretted not asking to be taken to the bathroom. He tried to remember where it was in relation to the bed. He pulled back the covers and stood up, gasping at the pain from his back wound. Very slowly he moved forward, arms outstretched. If he was right there should be a wall a few feet away. There was. He kept his right hand on it and gingerly felt his way around a corner and to the door of the en-suite. Okay. The shower had been on the right so the toilet must be to the left. It was. He sat there feeling quite pleased with himself at successfully finding his way. Thank God, he wouldn’t have to ask for help for that.


He’d made his way back to the bed and was sitting on it when Giles reappeared with the soup. He’d put it in a mug thinking that it would be easier to drink it rather than use a spoon.


Spike took it gratefully - his first proper meal in nearly a week. He also took the painkillers that Giles produced.


“If you want to get out of those pyjamas we’ve got a track suit of Andrew’s that you can use. Your things are at the cottage,” said Giles


“What colour is it?” asked Spike.


“It’s black…er…with…er…” stuttered Giles.


“Don’t lie, Giles. What colour is it?” insisted Spike.


“It’s sky blue with, well, with a pink stripe on the sleeves,” said Giles.


“Okay,” said Spike slowly, “and what colour am I currently covered in?”


“They’re not so bad…they’re red and green paisley patterned.”


Spike started to laugh and Giles soon joined in. It was very odd seeing Spike in such garish colours.


“Giles, if you don’t mind, I left some jogging pants and a t shirt in my locker in the changing room. God, it’s weird that I can remember that but can’t remember Buffy and me…” His voice trailed off as reality hit him like a ton of bricks.


Giles, sensing that the world was closing in on Spike again, put a hand on his shoulder.


“Would you rather sit on the sofa than the bed? It’s long enough if you need to lie flat out, but you can put the TV on…I mean…I’ll get a radio. Shit!” said Giles realising what he’d said.


“It’s okay, Giles, the TV will be fine. Can still listen to it, can’t I? No different to the radio,” said Spike, saying it to make Giles feel better when all he felt was panic at the thought of life like this.


Giles led him around the room so that he could get his bearings. Spike was grateful that it was sparsely furnished, as he tried to memorise where everything was. His limp was nearly as bad as it’d been when he came out of the hospital but it seemed irrelevant now.


After Giles had brought his clothes, Spike told him to leave him alone. He told him that he didn’t need him to spend all the time with him. Giles agreed because he knew Spike well enough to know that he had to work through things alone. Giles left a cell phone with Spike so that he could call if he needed anything, other than that he’d be back later with some lunch.


Spike lay back on the sofa going through his memories. He could clearly see in his mind’s eye, Giles, Dawn, Willow, Andrew and Xander. Helen was there too, but Buffy…he could hardly see her face. He knew that he loved her but just couldn’t picture them together.


*~*~*~*


Giles went upstairs and brought the others up to speed with what Spike had said. Buffy, predictably, had been devastated when Giles told her that Spike didn’t want to see her and was all set to go down there regardless. The others managed to convince her to wait, at least for a few days, to let him settle in.


Willow went out of the sitting room where they’d all gathered and went to the library. She frantically pulled out the volumes that she needed, got supplies from the drawers and started to mix a potion.


“I can fix this,” she muttered as she worked.


However, an hour later she gave up, for some reason the spells wouldn’t be cast. Even when she isolated each of the things she was trying to correct in Spike they wouldn’t work! She’d never known anything like it. All she could think of was that it was something to do with the Shanshu Prophecy. Disheartened, she rejoined the others and told of her failure.


*~*~*~*


Xander, on hearing the report of Spike from Giles, knew exactly what he had to do. He needed to go back to London and help Spike through this. Of all of them he was the only one who could even begin to think what Spike was going to have to deal with. Although he could still see, the loss of his left eye was something that he’d taken a long time to come to terms with. Spike was always living on his emotions and Xander knew that he’d find it hard to cope.


He told Giles that he’d be there as soon as he could be. Helen had moved back to her own flat and was due to start back at work on desk duty in a few more days. He called over to see her and told her that he was going back to London. She hugged him tight and kissed him on his cheek.


“Keep in touch.”


*~*~*~*



The wound on Spike’s back was healing well and the swelling around his eyes was receding but there was no change in his vision. He still refused to see Buffy or anyone except Giles, nor had he left the room at all.


He was sitting on the sofa, the radio Giles had brought down for him tuned to a play, but he wasn’t really listening to it. He just sat there. Alone. In the dark. Where he sat, a beam of sunlight was streaming through the window and he could feel its warmth on his face.


There was a knock on the door and it swung open with the now familiar and irritating squeak.


“Giles?” asked Spike.


“Nope, it’s me."


“Thought you were in L.A.?” said Spike, immediately recognising the voice.


“I was. I just thought I’d come back and see how you’re doing,” said Xander.


“I’m okay,” said Spike.


“Bullshit!” replied Xander. “You’re not okay, you’re far from okay - just admit it.”


“What do you know?” said Spike resentfully.


“Well, if you haven’t forgotten, I’ve gone through half of what you have. Always did have to outdo everyone, didn’t you?”


“Don’t you dare say you know how I feel!” shouted Spike. “You can still bloody well see.”


“True,” said Xander, “but you’re not totally helpless either.” He goaded Spike further, knowing that he needed Spike’s temper to show to get him out of the depressive cycle that he was in.


“Try wearing your patch on the other eye and see how easy things are!” yelled Spike.


“No reason for you not to shave. Trust me, Spike, you don’t want to go for the bearded look.”


“Kinda hard to shave when you can’t see!”


“No excuse, Spike! For hundred and twenty odd years you didn’t have a reflection, yet you still shaved. Same diff.”


“You right bastard,” said Spike quietly after a pause, realising Xander was right and knowing why he did it too.


“I know,” said Xander cheerfully. “Now go get shaved. I’ve brought you an electric razor, if you’re still worried about cutting yourself.”


Spike got up and walked to the bathroom, Xander gave him the rechargeable razor. He shaved carefully, making sure that he hadn’t missed any bristles. Like Xander had said it’s not like he hadn’t had years of practice without a reflection and most of that time the only thing available was a cutthroat razor.


As Spike walked back into the room, Xander noticed how he kept one hand on the wall until the other touched the sofa so that he kept his bearings.


“That’s better,” said Xander.


“Okay, okay, give it a rest,” said Spike.


“Will do. Come on,” he replied.


“Come on where?"


“You’re getting out of this room. Let’s go sit in the garden - it’s a beautiful day. It won’t be long before it’s winter, so let’s not miss this one.”


“No, Xander. I can’t bloody do it,” protested Spike.


“Yes, you bloody well can,” mocked Xander, in a very bad English accent.


“Don’t worry; everyone else is up at Giles’s. It’ll be just you and me. If you hold onto my arm you’ll find it easier than if I hold onto you.”


Spike stood there. If he just stayed in here he could convince himself that it wasn’t real, wasn’t permanent, but in his mind if he ventured out it was like admitting that this was what it would be like forever and he didn’t want to do that.


“Come on, Spike! You can’t just stay here. Don’t give up."


“Okay,” said Spike in a small voice.


Xander guided Spike’s hand to his own elbow and off they went, taking it slowly. Xander told Spike when there were steps, and once out in the garden they sat on the bench.


Xander watched Spike carefully as they sat there. He saw him start to relax and not hold himself so tense anymore. Xander hoped that this would be a turning point for Spike, and that he’d let his friends back in.


Unseen by both men, on the third floor Buffy was watching them through the window, little Joy in her arms. She’d been deeply saddened when Giles had told her of Spike’s memory loss, not for herself but for Spike having lost the memories of his daughter’s arrival in this world. He’d been so overcome with emotion, now he didn’t even know that she existed.


Xander walked inside with Spike, but not to his room. He led him to the kitchen on the same floor as his room, where the slayers eat their meals. Spike hadn’t quibbled when Xander had said where they were going, Xander correctly guessing that, though he’d been reluctant at first, Spike was glad to be out of his room and having some company.


“Now you sit there and I’ll get you some proper food. A man can’t survive on soup and sandwiches.”


Spike said nothing, just visualised trying to eat and food flying all over the place. He needn’t have worried - Xander prepared them steak and fries, Spike’s steak cut into bite size portions and the fries easily speared with a fork. No tricky peas or mushrooms to worry about. Spike tucked into it with relish.


“Thanks, Xander,” said Spike when he finished, and they both knew it wasn’t just the meal he was thanking him for.


Mission accomplished,thought Xander, with a smile.