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A/N Thanks to Carol and Dawnofme for their beta work.


Chapter Seven



Did It Work?


Buffy had barely slept. She just tossed and turned and in the end gave up at half past six and got out of bed, walking quietly downstairs so as not to wake the others. Willow had slept in Dawn’s room so Xander could use hers. Giles had gone home promising to be back early that morning.


She went down to check on Spike, too eager to see how he was doing to wait for his blood to be heated. She’d get it later. For the first time since he’d been with them, Spike was still sleeping when she got into the basement. She sat on the bottom step, not wanting to disturb him. As she watched, she could see he was dreaming and it obviously wasn’t a pleasant one. He had curled himself into a ball, head in his hands, trembling. She went to go to wake him, but knowing that he recoiled from being touched when he was awake, she stopped herself. She thought it probably would frighten him, so she sat and watched, hoping he’d wake soon for his own sake.


Spike was dreaming of his first few weeks after recapture. It just seemed to revolve around orders and pain when he didn’t obey them. Sometimes there was pain even if he did, just to punish him for being slow to respond. When they called him Number Seventeen, he kept shouting that it wasn’t his name; that his name was…even in his dream he could no longer remember it. Every time he’d said it, his head had exploded with pain, sometimes so bad that he passed out. He stopped speaking to them but said his name over and over at night, clinging to who he was. Then one day he woke and could no longer speak at all, not even a whisper. He couldn’t even form words silently with his lips. It was like his mind was speaking a language his mouth and tongue couldn’t understand and couldn’t relate to. That, of everything, had been the most terrifying experience-worse than all the physical tests and torture they did. He couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like.


He woke, as he always did from this dream, with a start when he realised he couldn’t speak. He suddenly sat up, looking around him wildly. He leapt up so quickly that he made Buffy jump too, and when he saw her sitting there, he was close to panic. Although he had no way of knowing the time, he knew he’d slept late and that was always punished. He stood and braced himself for the pain to hit his head, breath coming in ragged gasps. He was looking at the floor so didn’t see her approach. As she reached out and touched him, he flinched.


“It’s OK; you’re not in trouble,” soothed Buffy quietly, hating to see Spike reduced to this.


As she stroked his arm gently, he tilted his head so he could look at what she was doing. When he had relaxed a little, she put her arms around him and hugged him, putting her head on his chest, her hair brushing his down turned face.


For a moment Spike thought he remembered something, but it slipped away and he just stood there wondering what test this was. She drew away, leaving a little wet spot on his t-shirt where her tears had fallen.


“Sorry about that,” she said. “But I’ve missed you so much, and now you’re back and you’re going to be all right, I promise. You understand me don’t you? You know what I’m saying?”


Spike gave a small nod. It meant nothing. He always agreed if asked anything; all part of the conditioning instilled in him.


“Oh, I forgot your blood. I’ll go and get it.” She rushed upstairs.


Spike stood there and touched his wet chest.


“What is wrong with them? Why do they keep leaking everywhere? First, the one with dark hair, now this one. Least it doesn’t hurt me.”


Buffy reappeared with the blood.


“Sit down,” said Buffy, getting no response. “OK, Number Seventeen, sit down.”


He sat.


“I want you to ask me for your blood, OK? Not only is your arm mended, but we’ve made it so that you can talk again. It’s OK to talk. So, Number Seventeen, ask me for your blood.


Now he was confused. He looked at his left arm and wriggled his fingers. OK, that worked, but that had only been numb for a few days. He’d been told from day one not to speak. The consequences when he had spoken had been dire, and then he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Now this person was demanding he speak. He’d been tricked before. Since he’d been here, he hadn’t been hurt. The only thing they’d done was give him back his arm. He decided to risk it.


He opened his mouth, but nothing happened. It was just the same as before. His tongue didn’t respond to his thoughts. She’d lied to him! She hadn’t changed anything. He looked at his blood. He was hungry and he wanted it, but he just couldn’t physically say it.


Buffy could see the conflict in Spike’s expression. For a moment, she thought he was going to speak but then he didn’t. He looked distressed, confused and, for a split second, angry.


“Come on, I know it’s been a long time but one word, just say it for me …‘blood’,” coaxed Buffy.


He could say it in his mind and he understood what she wanted him to do but couldn’t make the word come out of his mouth.


“Do you want me to take it away then?” said Buffy, wondering if it would provoke him in to speaking. To her amazement he nodded. “Oh. OK then.” She got up and went upstairs taking the blood with her. She needed to talk to Willow, since she obviously hadn’t programmed the chip as she thought.


Spike watched her go in dismay.


“My fault; slept too long. God, I’m hungry. But I was bad. No food for Seventeen.”


He’d wanted to say no and have her to leave the blood, but the last time he’d said no, they’d broken his leg for being disobedient. Even with his vampiric healing, it wasn’t something he wanted to suffer again.


Oooooooo


Buffy walked into the kitchen to find everyone there, even Giles. No one had been able to wait any longer.


“Why haven’t you let him have his breakfast?” asked Dawn as soon as she saw her.


“He didn’t want it,” said Buffy.


“He told you that?” asked Giles. “He spoke to you?”


“No. I was trying to get him to speak, to ask for his blood, but he still wouldn’t. I tried a bit harder and said ‘do you want me to take it away’ and he nodded. I didn’t know what else to do, so I came upstairs with it,” replied Buffy.


“Buff, look it may be all the movies I’ve seen, but do you think after all the things those people have done to him, that he’d dare say no? I mean, some of the stuff Willow says they’ve done… do you think they’d let him disagree?”


Buffy went pale.


“Oh, my God, I’ve just been like them! I didn’t get what I wanted so took away his food. I can’t cope with this; it’s too hard! Why didn’t he talk to me? Willow, you’d said you’d fixed it. But he still never said anything.”


“It may take time, Buffy,” Giles said. “According to Willow’s research on the computer files, Spike hasn’t spoken for eleven months, and that’s a couple of weeks longer than the chip has been programmed to block it. So I think it’s safe to say their methods to keep him quiet were pretty cruel. It may not work like his arm-a flick of a switch and it’s back. They’ve totally demoralised him. He hasn’t reacted as if he knows any of us, but we know he should. They’ve seriously messed up his mind.”


“I’d better go and give him his blood,” said Buffy, starting to get up.


“No, Buffy, I think you’re too close, too emotionally involved,” countered Giles. “I know you have feelings for him, but those feelings won’t help now. Let me and Xander deal with him, and we’ll see how we get on.”


“Why me, G- Man? I’m sorry, but seeing Spike like that kinda freaks me out,” moaned Xander.


“Because I want to unchain him, and I need back up, just in case,” said Giles. “Reheat that blood and we’ll get started.”


Xander popped the bag in the microwave and at the ‘ping’ took it out and followed Giles into the basement.


Spike was sitting with his head in his hands, slightly rocking backwards and forwards. He looked up when he saw the two men walking towards him. He backed up to the wall and drew his legs up under his chin. Two men meant the operations rooms.


Giles walked up to where Spike was sitting, taking with him one of the stools Buffy had used yesterday. Xander sat himself down on the steps. Giles reached out to Spike and took hold of his right wrist. Spike cowered and resisted for a moment then let him pull his hand forward. Giles unlocked the chain and pushed it back against the wall, out of the way.


Spike waited for the order to get up and go to the operation rooms.


“Don’t want to go - please don’t make me go - don’t know where they are anymore - not being bad, just don’t know.”


He started to shake slightly despite trying hard not to, but instead of being taken away, he was given his blood and told to eat it. He took it and tasted it cautiously, but it hadn’t been drugged so he drank it without fearing he’d be taken away asleep.


Giles sat on the stool and took the empty bag from him when he’d finished.


“Number Seventeen, look at me,” said Giles. Spike looked him in the eye for the first time, Giles seeing the fear in his gaze. “My name is Giles. I know this is difficult for you, but you must understand, you will not be hurt here; you are safe. The Initiative will never hurt you again. I’m not certain that you remember us, but we are your friends. We got you out as soon as we knew you were there. It’s all right for you to disagree with something we say. You won’t be hurt again. You’re safe; you’re home.”


Home.


The word resonated through Spike’s mind; home, that’s all he’d wanted when he’d first been taken. He just wanted to go home, but then it wasn’t real anymore. He didn’t know where it was anymore. He wasn’t sure it had ever been real.


He looked at the man sitting in front of him. He wasn’t like any of the men he saw at The Initiative. He believed him. A tear slowly rolled down his cheek.


Giles was shocked to see the tear, but he hoped it meant that Spike knew he was safe, and so hopefully, he’d trust him.


“Number Seventeen is not your name,” said Giles.


Spike nodded.


“Do you mean that it is your name?” asked Giles, thinking that Spike still hadn’t the courage to say no.


Spike nodded again.


Then a thought struck Giles, “You had a name before that, before Number Seventeen, do you remember it?”


Spike looked into Giles’ eyes and very slowly shook his head from side to side, tensing a little in case he was wrong to do it.


“That’s OK-you’re OK. Well, your name was Spike. You are Spike; from now on we will only call you Spike. Do you understand?”


A nod.


“Will I be calling you Number Seventeen again?”


Another shake, this time a little more confidently.


“Yesterday when we mended your arm, we also mended what they did to stop you from being able to speak. I want you to know that you are allowed to talk. We want you to talk to us.”


Now Spike was worried again. If he couldn’t do what he said, would he get angry with him?


“Can you say your name for me?” asked Giles.


Spike concentrated hard, “Spike.” But he just couldn’t form the word, so he shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes as he waited for the inevitable blow to come; when it didn’t, Spike glanced up at Giles again. His expression was sympathetic, so Spike relaxed a little.


“It’s OK, don’t worry,” soothed Giles. “Do you want to talk to me?”


Spike nodded.


“Are you able to talk to me?”


Spike shook his head.


“OK, we’ll leave you to rest now, Spike. I’ll leave you unchained but you’ve got to stay in this room? Is that all right?”

Spike nodded once more.


Oooooooo


Giles and Xander went back upstairs.


“So what happened?” demanded Buffy as soon as she saw them.


“He wants to talk but still can’t. Can you go over the programming records again Willow and see if we’ve missed something?”


“Sure, I’ll get on it right away.”


“I’ve explained that we’re friends and that no harm will come to him. I’m sure he understood. We left him unchained, too. We’ll just chain him at night. I don’t think he’s a danger to us, but we don’t want him to wander off whilst we’re sleeping. I’ll talk to him again in a few hours. We’ll take it slowly,” said Giles.


Oooooooo


“Spike. I’m Spike.”


It felt right; it fit.


“The man, who was he? Giles, that was it, Giles. He spoke to me like I was an equal to him. He’s human so what does that mean? Said we were friends, but why don’t I remember? Why don’t I remember anything but being in my cell?”


He sat there trying to put his thoughts into speech but still couldn’t manage it.


To be continued…..