Abled



By PassionFish



This fiction has been nominated!



WARNING: This fiction contains issues of self-harm.

TimeLine: Not set in any season, but the gang are all in their early twenties. Joyce is still alive, no Riley, Dawn is around, but there is no big bad. Future AU – Spoilers – Season Four - Anything from Beer Bad and before.



Summary: After a violent accident, Buffy finds herself all alone. And Spike is the only one that can handle her.



A/N: I wanna say a ‘bigger-than-usual’ thanks to my beta Lady Brandywyne as she helped me so much with tweaking this chapter! And thanks for all her work on this fiction!





Chapter One: Accident





Buffy smiled as she walked along side her friends, happy just to listen as they chatted randomly about the film they'd just seen.



"And then it was like *pow* and *shqwa*!" Xander imitated, fake shooting stars in the sky as he re-played various scenes from the movie.



Willow smiled at Xander's antics, turning to her girlfriend, "Did you like the movie, honey?"



"I think so...but what was with the Chinese pom-pom maker?"



"I don't think there was a Chinese pom-pom maker in the whole film, baby." Willow frowned at Tara.



"Oh."



“There was a guy sitting a few rows down with a fuzzy head of hair though. I can see where that might have been confusing.” Willow smiled reassuringly.



“The Chinese were making bombs in that film. As with a lot of American films, other cultures are the bad-Xander, stop that!” Anya thwapped her boyfriend as he started dancing.



"Are you ready? Are you ready for love? Yes, I am!"



"Xander if you don't shut up, you better get yourself ready for the couch!" Anya, hit her boyfriend over the head playfully with a magazine she'd picked up at the cinema.



"Yes, dear."



Buffy sighed, watching the jovially conversing couples with barely concealed longing. And jealousy. It had been two years since she'd last been on a date and after that disaster had sworn off the idea. First Angel, then Angelus, and then Angel again, then Parker, then Jack (her date).



First, she'd spent three hours getting ready, only for him to turn up at the door in torn jeans and a t-shirt. She'd been expecting fine dining, or at least as fine as Sunnydale could manage, but had ended up getting a burger at Wendy's. She'd envisaged a midnight stroll down the beach, swinging her sandals from her fingers and his jacket over her shoulders. What she'd got was a walk through the dank alleyways of the 'bad' side of Sunnydale as Jack attempted to spook her, a vampire attack, one very freaked out date and no lift home.



Needless to say, since then the idea of dating, let alone getting involved with someone had been unappealing. Well, that wasn't entirely true...but the only person, and she used the term oh-so-very loosely, that she ever thought might be able to handle getting involved with her, caused her too much fear to even dare to try.



There was just too much history standing between them... not that it was all bad, mind you. But there had been far too many repercussions the last time she'd given her heart - she couldn't afford to let it go again. No matter how desperately she sometimes wanted to.



Buffy sighed at the depressing thought. She'd promised herself for Christmas that she wouldn't let this get her down; that she wouldn't think about it anymore. But she couldn't control her dreams. She could never control her dreams.



Scary, terrifying, infuriating, sexy, amazing, beautiful dreams. Flashes of white-blonde hair, sea blue eyes and a deep, husky voice whispering the dirtiest, sweetest, most loving things against her skin.



She shook her head, trying to shake the images. Her eyes closed momentarily as she rubbed her hands over her suddenly depressed face. *Come on, Buff, feet forward and keep the mind off the annoying peroxide blonde!*



"BUFFY!"



She didn't realise the curb had ended two meters ago.



She didn't hear the scream.



She didn't see the car.



She didn't feel the ground.



She didn't feel the bones break.



She didn't say a word.



---



"Ms. Summers? Buffy, can you hear me? We're going to move you onto the stretcher now. If you can hear me, take a deep breath and brace yourself."



---



"What have we got?"



"Twenty-One year old female, she was hit by a car. She's still breathing but it's shallow. There are numerous fractures in her right arm, left wrist and her left leg is broken. She has severe contusions on her lower back with noticeable lack of response to pain stimulus in her lower extremities."



“What’s her name?”



“Buffy Summers.”



"Buffy, if you can hear me, try and squeeze my hand."



---



"There's no pulse...we're losing her!"



“Bag her and begin compressions – charging…”



---



"...And it's back, okay people, she needs 100 cc's of--"



---



"Mrs. Summers? I’m Dr. Kate Walker. I treated your daughter when she was brought into the Er. May I speak with you privately for a moment?"



The whole gang rose from their seats at the doctors' sudden appearance.



"Please, you can tell us all...we're all family." Joyce said as strongly as she could while her youngest held her hand so tightly that it was white. "How is she?"



The doctor gave her a tight smile, "I have mixed news for you. When your daughter was brought in there some complications but we have Buffy stabilised at the moment." Her eyes briefly flittered to the relieved group, and then back to Joyce. "However, she has lapsed into a coma."



The room broke out in a hushed exclamation of disbelief.



"How can she be stable if she's in a coma?" Willow asked, tears in her eyes.



"Ms. Summers may be in a coma but she isn't on life support which is a very positive sign under the circumstances. It is not uncommon for a patient to lapse into a brief restive catatonic state after such an injury is incurred. We will know more, depending on how long it takes for her to wake." The blonde doctor allowed her gaze to travel around the group, before resting on her patient’s immediate family.



"T-that’s a good thing, right?" Dawn stuttered, looking between the doctor and her mother for reassurance.



"It should be." Dr. Walker confirmed with a little hesitation. "There is a very good chance that she will wake up within a short period of time."



"You said there was mixed news." Giles prompted, shrewdly determining that the doctor wasn't finished telling them the whole story.



"Yes." The doctor stated, taking a deep breath. "While Buffy is breathing on her own, she has suffered a great deal of trauma. Many bones in her arms and one of her legs were injured as a result of the collision. We set them all as best we could and most, if not all of those should make a full recovery."



"What exactly are you saying?" Joyce asked, hugging Dawn close.



"I'm saying that if and when Buffy wakes there will be further complications. I'm afraid her spinal chord and several of her vertebrae were damaged in the accident. She's likely to be paralysed from the waist down." The doctor finished in a soft voice, her eyes misty with compassion.



The silence screamed through the cold, sterile walls.



No one could move.



“We’ll know more when she wakes and we can run a few tests.”



Nothing was said.



"I'm so very sorry."



TBC....Like it? Let me know!

Chapter Two: While She Was Sleeping...





Two weeks later...





"Hey, Buffy!" Dawn began in an overly cheerful tone as she tried to smile at her sister's prone figure. "We started school this week. I know I told you before, but I figured you might have forgot or something."



Beep......Beep......Beep......



She took deep breath, trying to calm herself down in the face of Buffy's non-reaction.



"Day was pretty good. Well, same ole, same ole. Oh, but we do have this really hot new math teacher. I can see my grade going up in that!" She tried to laugh, but it came out choked.



Another deep breath.



"Um, Paula - this girl I sit next to in English was saying that Rick, that’s the guy I liked last year for a bit, 'member? Anyway, apparently he's gay. But I'm not sure I believe her 'cause I saw him like totally brush her off on Monday, so you know...."



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Her voice trailed off and she waited, desperate for a reaction; any reaction.



When Buffy didn't move, a sob ripped from her throat, even though she'd tried to force it back. "I really miss you. Please Buffy..." Tears dripped down her cheeks and she buried her face in her hands.



"Please..."



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Dawn jumped as the door opened and she stood, quickly wiping the still-flowing liquid away. A nurse stood in the doorway, a fresh IV bag in her hand. She waited a moment, before moving in.



"Hi..." The brunette smiled softly at the young girl, moving to replace the almost empty IV.



The girl didn't respond, but then, the nurse had hardly expected her to. She turned around to say something else, but found that Dawn had slipped away.



---



"...and a yea on the balloon thing right?" Xander tried to smile as he tugged on the string that kept the helium-inflated balloon weighted to the ground. "I was thinking: balloon, pretty!"



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Anya cleared her throat, "We would have brought flowers but we decided that they would end up dying and that wouldn't be a very good role model for you."



"Anya..."



"What? All I'm saying is: don't die." The ex-demoness' eyes clouded with unshed tears and the carpenter was immediately contrite.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



"You're right; good message. Right, Buff-?" He cut himself off as realisation hit him that she wouldn't be answering. He felt his girlfriend's hand close over his and he gave it a squeeze, her strength giving him he courage to continue to talk like nothing was wrong.



"So....I discovered this really cool snack the other day, you'd like it. You get some cheese...."



---



"You know, you're lucky to have so many friends. They seem to care about you deeply. When you wake up you're going to be spoiled rotten." Buffy’s plump, motherly physical therapist smiled at the comatose young woman as if nothing was wrong and continued to straighten the sheets.



"And so you should be." She continued. "Dr. Walker is good at her job, so you're in good hands."



Beep......Beep......Beep......



She lifted one leg, rotating it at the joints and massaging up the muscles before replacing it softly on the bed and giving the other the same treatment. She glanced over at the oriental lilies that sat, fresh, in the vase next to Buffy's bed. "I see your night-time caller has left another present, Ms Summers. Pity I'm not on night shift this week; now, there’s a face anyone would be willing to wake up for." Doris chuckled softly, carefully tucking both legs back under the covers.



"Just ignore me - the ramblings of an old woman and all that." She finished up around the room, keeping up a soft stream of speech as she did so. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, rest well." With an unseen, yet sad smile she closed the door behind her.



---



"I have a surprise for you." Joyce smiled encouragingly at her daughter, absently brushing a lank piece of blonde hair from her pillow. "I know how you mourned the loss of HBO and as a treat we're getting it put back on next month." She waited expectantly for some reaction, but received none.



"Dawnie went back to school a few days ago. I think she's doing better this year. She wasn't too happy about the surprise pop quiz they had on Tuesday but I think she's enjoying herself. Not hanging around with that Kaylie-girl which is a blessing in disguise."



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Joyce tugged on the sheet covering Buffy, attempting to pull it straight as she talked but it kept crumpling. With an agitated sigh she let it go. Then quickly caught it back in her hands, lest some higher power thought it was symbolic of her letting Buffy go. Her fingers curled so tightly around the sheet that her knuckles were white.



A machine beeped loudly in the room, startling her.



She forced herself to relax, but refused to let go of the sheet. "I think Mr. Giles said he was coming to visit later this afternoon. I know if you were awake you'd be blaming his many visits on his love of grapes..." She tried to laugh but it came out as a tearful hiccup.



The machine beeped again, then the room was silent.



---



The brunette nurse was silent as she quickly changed the IV's that were connected to the various tubes travelling in and out of Buffy Summer's body.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



She moved round the bed, placing the empty bags on her tray as she went. Her hands moved swiftly through the routine of removing and replacing the full catheter bag.



Her job completed, she left the room to the sound of the gentle beating of the machine; the only sign of life.



---



"T-the, uh, gang has continued to patrol in your, uh, absence." Giles stared in to the brown bag, full of seedless grapes that sat on his lap, anxious to keep up the pretence that Buffy was simply being quiet....as if that ever happened.



"It has been getting quieter...I know you're thinking apocalypse around the corner." He smiled tightly, taking a deep breath. He slipped his glasses from his face, absently rubbing at the perfectly clean lenses.



"Your mother and sister are h-holding up as....as best they can. As are we all.....don't worry. I know you'll be up and about soon....slayer healing and so on." Tears clouded his eyes and he stood, walking over to the small window at the other side of the room, not wanting her to 'see' him cry.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Once he was sure he had himself under control he opened his mouth to start again.



"Sir?"



He spun around with a gasp - he hadn't heard the door open. In the doorway stood a nurse, a kind smile on his face. "Uh, yes, is there a problem?" Giles' eyes darted worriedly to Buffy's bed, hurriedly searching for any change in her statue-like appearance....but there was none.



"I'm afraid visiting hours are over." The nurse spoke softly, not wanting to upset the clearly ruffled man.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Giles, suddenly realising that he couldn't see the other man very well, quickly slid his glasses back on. "Of course, I'm sorry..."



"It's fine." The nurse was quick to reassure him. He gave a little laugh to try and put the other man at ease. "We're open again at nine, tomorrow, if you'd like to come back."



"Uh, yes...I'll do that."



---



"Hey Buffy!" Willow and Tara spoke softly and simultaneously, as they walked through the door to the private room that housed their friend.



"How've you been?" Willow asked automatically, then winced. "I mean, obviously you've not been great 'cause of the coma and all but, well-"



"Honey, it's okay." Tara's quiet voice broke through the redhead's babbling as she reached towards her girlfriend and squeezed her hand to try and calm her. "We thought we'd let you know where we've been getting with the research." Tara began, urging Willow to continue.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



"Oh, yeah, well....not so good. I mean we're still trying, and we're gonna keep on trying...." Willow trailed away. "Giles is trying to contact the council, see if they know of anything that might, you know, help..."



Tara whispered something in her ear and Willow suddenly shot up. "Oh, but we've been looking into healing spells."



"W-we haven't found anything strong enough, yet...." Tara began.



"B-but we were thinking of trying to write our own, like a combination of what we've got." Willow continued.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



"Like on 'Charmed'." Tara said with a small smile.



"Yeah!" Willow smiled back, then sobered as she looked down at Buffy. She tried to smile. "I've been keeping track of all your school assignments, like last time...when you're better you can just roll-uh, I mean slide right in." Willow blushed at the slip up and reference to Buffy's damaged spine, but the comatose Slayer didn't react.



Not that they'd really expected her to.



With a sigh, Willow sunk into the arms of her lover, a tear rolling down her face.



---



Doris was silent as she moved about her daily duty of tending to Ms. Summers. It had been just over two weeks since Buffy had first slipped into a coma, and while her body appeared to remain stable the kind nurse knew from experience that the recovery rate of such cases was low after the first week.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



Very low.



She shook her head, trying to distance herself from the patient she had become quite attached to over the past fortnight. With a forced smile she began to speak, hoping that her voice at least eased some of the boredom Buffy's inner mind must be feeling while she prayed for her body to heal itself.



---



With a heart-felt sigh he turned the silver doorknob and silently slipped in to the room, closing the door behind him. It was dark, the only light in the room came from the full moon outside and the flashing LED's that were part of the various equipment the girl in the bed was hooked up to.



With preternatural grace he moved forward, carefully removing the day-old flowers and replacing them with fresh ones. The task, which had built into a routine over the past couple of weeks, helped ground him.



The lone chair still sat by the door, and he pulled it as close to the bed as he could get it; the sound of the rubber against the metallic floor aching loud in the silent room.



Suddenly feeling very old, he slumped down into the plastic chair that stood solidly by the bed. His pale hand dragged itself over his tired features, as he stared at her through his fingers.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



"Oh, love..."



He sighed, leaning forward in his chair so that his elbows rested on his knees, his face still cradled in his palms. "You've got to wake up, ducks. Everyone's hanging on by a thread....even demon-girl."



"Your mum and th' bit need you. They all need you." He stared across at her eyes, willing them to open as he did every night.



But they stayed closed, as they did every night.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



His eyes filled with fresh tears. "I need you." He murmured roughly.



And then he broke the rule. The one, unspoken rule that every visitor had unwittingly and unknowingly kept.



He touched her.



With a shaking hand he reached for hers. His touch was hesitant at first, as if he were afraid that he might injure her further. But then, as his emotions overcame him, he clasped her hand tightly.



"Please, Slayer...."



He went to bend his head, but hesitated, before ploughing forward and brushing the lightest kiss over her pale skin.



Beep......Beep......Beep......



"I love you, Buffy...." He whispered against her skin, resting his forehead on her limp hand, selfishly stealing her warmth, if only for a moment.



Beep......Beep.....Beep....Beep...Beep..Beep..Beep..



Spike's head shot up as the monitor confirmed what he'd barely detected. Her heartbeat was quickening. His eyes shot to Buffy's chest and watched as it began to rise and fall at a faster and more regular rate.



His mind raced, unsure whether to hope for the possibility that she might....



That it could be.....



His eyes darted over her face, searching anxiously for a sign of movement, anything.



It was a twitch at first.



Spike's heart jumped to his throat, it could be nothing, it probably was nothing - there had been slight twitches before - twitches that the doctors had said could be positive signs...



"B-Buffy?" He wanted to give her room and hold her to him all the same time, should he call for the nurse? His mind was a mass of contradictions.



Spike let out a small yelp as he felt a pressure in his hand and quickly looked down. It was Buffy's hand. He was still holding Buffy's hand. Buffy's hand had just squeezed his.



Buffy's hand had just squeezed his!



His eyes shot to her face....



And she was staring right back at him.




TBC in Chapter Three: Broken

Please do Read and Review! I love getting them and it only makes the writing come faster!

Chapter Three: Broken

A week later...



"So...when can I leave?" Buffy smiled at the doctor at the side of her bed; she had a friendly face....and was the key to her freedom from this place so it was probably best to suck up to her.

Kate smiled at her; a fake, well-practised smile. "Not yet I'm afraid."

"Why? You need more tests? You've been testing me all week - hope I did better then in school!" Buffy laughed lightly, trying to make a funny then continued. "And hey, you know I have this great recovery rate; and I'd probably get it done better from home."

"Buffy, I'm not quite ready to do that yet." Kate smiled again and pulled a chair up to the bed, sitting down. "As you know we've been running a lot of tests, trying to work out what’s going on in there!"

Buffy tried to smile but it didn't come. A sense of foreboding spread through her veins. Suddenly the room seemed colder.

"You broke quite a few bones in the accident, most of which are healing nicely and we can expect a full recovery."

"M-most?" Buffy frowned at the phrase. "W-what do you mean, most?"

"I'm afraid your spinal chord and several of your vertebrae were damaged in the accident. This damage is most-likely irreversible." Pain shone clearly through the blue eyes of the young doctor. "You're paralysed from the waist down."

The room was silent.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth several times, her brain trying to work out whether the older woman had actually said what she thought she'd just said.

"I'm-but, I...no, you see I....NO. You see I heal quickly. This is just a momentary thing. I mean yeah it's never happened before, but I'll be up and movin' in a couple of days."

"Buffy-" The doctor tried to cut through, but the Slayer continued to babble.

"NO! Get Giles, Rupert Giles, he's just outside...he'll tell you." When Kate didn't move, Buffy's tone of voice became more shrill and insistent. "Get GILES!"

Kate was moving to stand up as the door opened.

"Buffy? Are you alright?"

Buffy sighed in relief at the sight of her Watcher in the doorway. "Giles, tell her how I recover fast. She's totally on the wrong track, and boy is your face gonna be red, lady. Tell her Giles." She demanded, her eyes trained on him.

"Buffy..." Giles' face fell at the pure look of pleading on his Slayer's face and his eyes dropped to the floor in shame.

"Giles, TELL HER. Come on, angry-puppy-dog catcher here...GILES." She shouted and his eyes snapped up to meet hers.

"Giles... Please."

Buffy shifted on the bed, her hands crushing each other as she watched tears fill her Watcher's eyes.

"Giles, tell her." Her voice quieted, reminiscent of a small girl and the older man felt his heart break just that bit more.

"I-I'm so sorry, Buffy."

"No...no..."

The world was spinning. Some-one was spinning the world. It was all screwed up; this wasn't right. God, please someone make it stop. This isn't real, not possible; fake.

She couldn't breathe....there wasn't enough air. Why wasn't there enough air, wasn't there meant to be some sort of endless supply?

"Doctor; help her!"

Giles' voice. Silly, Giles. He obviously was ill. Because she was fine. She was the Slayer. This sort of thing didn't happen to slayers. Faith bounced back didn't she?

They were lying to her. Just one big, old crappy Xander-joke. Well, it wasn't funny.

And there wasn't enough air. And the world was still spinning.

"...make it stop."

Giles watched from the doorway, a single tear sliding down his cheek, as the nurse injected his hysterical ward with a sedative and her body slowly calmed.

And finally she was asleep.

---

A further week later...



Giles turned over abruptly, smashing his fist into the too-soft pillow below him, before burying his head under it in an attempt to drown out the words that continued to torture his brain.

All he could feel was failure.

He sat behind his books and his regulations...

And none of it had helped. Not one jot. He'd never thought of anything like...this.

Vampires, Demons, Hell-on-earth......but not this.

His ward, his charge, his Slayer....his daughter.

All he could see was her face.

Begging.

Pleading.

“Please Giles...”

“But - I'm the Slayer.....”

“This doesn't happen to me....”

“I've been hit before; I was in LA - I WAS FINE THEN!!!”

“I can't live like this...”

“Please Giles...”

“Don't make me live like this!”

“What about all of your 'one girl' crap if a fucking truck can take my legs?!”

“This isn't happening...HELP ME!”

“Giles, please there has to be something, a spell - anything. You can't let me...”

“You can't...”



All he could hear was her voice.

And it was deafening.



---

A further two weeks later...

There was a light rap on the door before it opened and Dr. Walker popped her head around the wood. Joyce smiled politely at the younger woman's entrance, but the third body in the room didn't remove her eyes from the window and the outside world.

"Mind if I come in?" The blonde doctor smiled kindly, pushing the door open wider as she walked in, chart in hand.

"Not at all." Joyce answered, her eyes moving to Buffy. "Honey, the doctor’s here." She stated unnecessarily.

The Slayer barely lifted her eyes in acknowledgement before returning to stare out the window.

"Buffy, I hope you don't mind but I'm going to borrow your Mom for a minute." Kate's smile stayed firmly in place, but her eyes indicated to Joyce that it was serious.

"I'll just be a second sweetie, want me to bring you back anything?"

As expected, Buffy didn't answer.

---

The old, musty office was cluttered with papers and books. There was the odd picture on the wall and a couple of frames containing diplomas and degrees. The window was open, and the sun shone brightly into the surprisingly expansive room giving it an almost ethereal quality.

But for Joyce Summers, it felt like she'd just entered Hell.

"Mrs. Summers, Buffy has undergone significant physical trauma; of that we are all agreed. And while most of her external injuries are healing and will continue to do so, she is making no progress with the internal ones and at this rate I fear she may not."

Doctors. Another one. Dr. Something-or-other. She couldn’t remember his name. How many doctors had she watched attempt to her baby in the past month and a half? Half a dozen, a dozen, two? She couldn’t remember. Did it matter? She didn’t think so. Only one thing mattered. And she couldn’t do anything to help her.

"What are you saying?" Joyce asked the elderly psychiatrist, watching in agitation as he sat forward in his chair from behind the old, oak desk

"I have been working with Buffy for nearly four weeks." He stated. "Buffy has been used to a very active lifestyle. From her medical records I can see that the surprisingly few times she has been hurt her recovery has been speedy to say the least."

"Karate lessons..." Joyce murmured absently by way of explanation. As if it explained anything.

"Yes...however, this time, it seems, her body has been pushed to it's limit. I know this is hard for you and your family; we spoke earlier about possibility of Buffy returning to her 'normal self'." He lifted his hands to form quotation marks around the words 'normal self' and Joyce frowned.

"Exactly; I know you said these things take time...but Buffy has always been such a resilient child." Joyce said beseechingly; grasping at the arms of her chair. Knowing she was grasping at straws.

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Summers, there-in lies the problem." The doctor gazed across at her sympathetically. "It's easy to say there are different stages of recovery; grief, denial, retreat, anger, acceptance. However, the human psyche is not always something that is so easily categorized; every person is different. With your daughter she has always relied on her strength; her martial arts skills and her ability to recover quickly from injury. This has all suddenly been taken away from her. Her safety blanket is gone. Buffy is going to have to come to terms with the very real possibility that she may never walk again."

Joyce let out a silent sob at the declaration, hastily bringing her tissues up to her face.

"It’s going to take her a long time to get back to being herself again, isn't it?" Joyce asked tearfully.

"Nothing in psychology can be said in absolutes. The sooner she is able to accept the reality presented before her, the quicker she will heal. The same can be said for some of her physical ailments.

It is common for patients in circumstances like Buffy’s to become depressed, temperamental, prone to anxiety attacks and violent outbursts, and as we can observe from Buffy’s current state; silent and some-what unresponsive." The doctor spoke plainly, knowing that it would be only counterproductive if he were to mince his words.

"What can we do to help her?"

The elderly man smiled kindly, "Be there for her. Help her work through those tough periods; be a friend when she needs one. Be a mother when she needs one. To a certain extent an authority figure if, and when, she needs one."

There was a pause while Joyce let the information sink in. Had it really been a month ago that she was that normal mother to a vampire Slayer and a mystical key; the purpose of which they had yet to discover?

"I know this is a very difficult time for you and your family. You're going to have to be strong, be ready for her when she's ready to open up to life again."

*If she's ever ready to open up to life again...*



To Be Continued in: Chapter Four - Under Construction

A/N: Thank you for all the review given so far - they've really made my day! Please do review again if you want more, and/or are liking it so far!

Chapter Four: Under Construction



"FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! JUST GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME AND STAY AWAY!"

Joyce cringed as another object crashed against the door she'd managed to shut just in time and shattered to the ground. Weary tears slid down her face as she bent and slowly began to pick up the shards from the last rounds of glass.

In the background, Xander cleared his throat uncomfortably and she gave him a tight smile before resuming her work. The carpenter sighed silently, and continued to attach the chair lift to the staircase.

Joyce moved passed Xander with a solemn look upon her face, her hands cupped in front of her containing the broken remains of her daughters' favourite childhood figurine. It was an ice skater. She could still remember the day they'd bought; Buffy had been six and so enamoured with the skating world.

She recalled Buffy's fervent pleas and promises of how well she would look after her, that she would call her Dawn and love her for ever and ever and ever!

From the kitchen she could still hear the banging, the crashing, the breaking and splintering of Buffy's room as her only child destroyed it.

With shaking hands, Joyce tipped the shards of glass into the kitchen bin, barely noticing when several nicked her pale skin. She moved silently to the sink, trying to ignore the destruction overhead as she gently ran warm water over her cuts.

She heard her daughters' pained wail, and an answering call welled up inside her, though she clamped it down. The doctor said it would take time...time - something Buffy now had an abundance of.

Joyce swallowed determinedly. She had to be strong. Had to be the protector, the care-giver; the mother.

But she couldn't stop her own tears from falling on to her fingers and she watched as the salty liquid swirled in with her blood.

---

Xander winced as he heard yet another...something shatter from down the hall.

It was all so very wrong.

Buffy was a Slayer.

A warrior.

A protector.

A saviour.

A hero.

His hero.

And with every object the smashed against the plaster, she fell just a little further from her pedestal.

He shut his eyes against the tears that wanted to escape when he heard her cry out - but he dared not to go to her. So instead the returned his hands to the job in front of him.

The despised job that had befallen him - the one he knew he would never forget for the rest of his life.

---

Inside her room, the Slayer screamed, lifting the despised contraption up with shaking arms that betrayed her weakness, and sent it flying into the wardrobe. The wooden doors smashed under the force, sending huge splinters everywhere.

From her position on the bed, she swept an angry arm across the bed-side table, destroying it's surface contents. Lamp, alarm clock, photos streamed to the floor in an unholy mess. With another cry, she wrenched the draw out of its hole and flung it at her dressing table smashing the mirror to smithereens.

"I HATE YOU!!!" She screamed out. It was a general declaration - not meant for one person but for the whole world. They had all condemned her to this pathetic, weak, neutered state.

They had taken her life, her youth, her innocence, her time, her world...and now her legs.

Her mobility - her freedom. As if she had ever had any!

They had stolen it all, snatched it all away in one foul swoop.

Perfume bottles and dainty moisturisers which had been originally placed so lovingly atop the wooden dresser crashed to the ground, staining the carpet.

Buffy reached out to tear down the photographs that were pasted to her wall, and as she did, she slipped: crashing to the ruined floor with a thud. She landed heavily on her front, and the exposed skin of her arms, chest and face caught on the sharp mess she had made.

She tired to push herself up and drag herself back on the bed, but her arms were too weak. Her body slid on the sludge that had fallen there, causing her to loose her position and bang her chin on the wooden bed frame. Stars danced before her eyes as the pain shot throughout her body, at least the parts she could still feel.

She could have called for help. Xander or Joyce could have easily come to her aid. But she stayed silent; refusing to call anyone as her pride betrayed her.

With a wailing sob she slid down fully to the floor, attempting to curl into the foetal position...but she couldn't move her legs.

And she cried.

WARNING: This fiction contains issues of self-harm.

Interlude: The Chair





“Come on, Buff. It can’t be that bad…I added a lift in the hallway. No more pesky stairs when you’re totally schnookered…and hey - getting around’s gonna be so much easier with the-“ He was trying but…



“Don’t say it!” Buffy snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. She watched dispassionately as the boy dropped back a couple of steps, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he inched closer to the door.



Closer to the escape she knew they all wanted from her.



It was Xander this time. He was the week’s third attempt, in what she envisioned would be a long line of irritation.



“Don’t you think you should at least try it?” Xander squeaked out, jumping as Buffy growled and swung her limp legs over the side of the bed so that she faced the window.



And so that her back was to him; shutting him out.



In the cold…along with her mum, sister and her Watcher.



Buffy rolled her eyes, barely noticing the tears as they slid down her heated cheeks, when she heard the door close behind the whelp.



He left in silence – left her in silence. They couldn’t handle it…they just expected her to bounce back. Fuck the fact that her body was irrevocably broken, that her world was gone. She’d ignored her pain in the past; pushed aside her inner turmoil to make them happy for another day.



They just couldn’t contemplate the fact that maybe, just maybe, this time her mind had been screwed with once too often…



She’d given up so much.



But they didn’t care – the world just kept on taking. But in such a way that she was never offered that sweet release she’d been promised.



They took her world, her identity, her time…her body.



There was nothing left, but they just couldn’t accept that. They just kept on trying to take more, even though she was way past empty.



Buffy wasn’t sure who ‘they’ were. But she knew they didn’t care.



Her fists clenched once again as she recalled her mother’s cavalier anger at her attitude.



“Why can’t you just try?! This isn’t just happening to you – it’s on all of us! We’re trying to help, damnit!”



“Bullshit…” Buffy had hissed, her fists clenching. “It’s all happening to me. Just like it always happens to me! Time after time I save the world…for what? Nothing! Angel’s in LA…a demon for hundreds of years; he’s murdered millions of people…but the fucking Power’s That Be safeguard him. What did I do to deserve this?”



Her mother had had no answer.

The following day Giles hadn’t known how to answer….knowing that he had no answer. How often in the past couple of months had he asked himself that very question? Hundreds? Thousands?



Buffy snorted, flinging a hateful look at the metallic object in the corner before resigning herself to lying down on her bed. There was nothing else she could do.



No-where else she could go.



---



“We could dress it up. I-I-I mean, if you wanted us to. I promise I won’t use any orange felt.” The Witch tried to smile, but the movement couldn’t quite be forced upon her melancholy features.



Buffy said nothing, instead letting out a scornful laugh as she glared at the red-head, safely in the arms of her lover.



*Yup, score two for lesbian lovers. Just show the invalid how alone she really is!*



Willow shuddered, sinking back into Tara for comfort, as the look her best friend shot her send her flying back to her High School days, when she’d been nothing more powerful then the school nerd; being picked on day in and day out.



“B-Buffy, Willow’s j-just trying to help.” Tara put in quietly.



“Yeah!” Buffy stated scornfully. “There’s one thing she could do to help…but noooo, she can’t do that! How many times have I saved her ass? I never asked for so much as a thank-you…but she doesn’t wanna even try to help me.”



Buffy turned away from them as best she could. “Some friend you are.”



“I tried, Buffy!” Willow cried, falling out of Tara’s embrace to land on her knees close to the Slayer. “I begged the Gods to help…I prayed-“



“Prayed!” Buffy rolled her eyes at the inadequacy of such a gesture. “Well, thank god for that!” She exclaimed sarcastically.



Willow was crying by this point, but Buffy didn’t seem to notice or care. The Wicca continued to babble apologies but all the Slayer heard were excuses.



A few moments later, Tara came forward. She gathered her lover up to her feet, and gently led her out of the room, murmuring to Buffy. “We’ll come visit you tomorrow.”



“Whatever.” Buffy spat violently. She heard the door shut, and flung a pillow from her bed at the offending wood. Her eyes stared at the wall as she listened to the sound of her mother apologising to Willow, and the red head apologising to Joyce.



It was only when she heard Tara’s car pull away from their drive did she allow the tears to fall. It was only now, while she was allowed this reprieve that she could grieve for her actions.



She knew what she was doing wasn’t fair to her friends and family. But she couldn’t let them continue to grow attached to her. This way was better.



She knew the plan by heart; had thought of it and not much else since she was told the truth about her limbs.



Eventually they’d leave her alone.



Eventually they’d forget her.



And then…and only then could she take the release that she so longed for…but one that she had been denied.



But she was still the Slayer at heart.



Faith’s words returned to her.



Want. Take. Have.



Well, she wanted death.



And soon she would take it.

Chapter Five: Therapy?





“H-Hello Buffy, m-my name is Eleanor Pastel. I-I’m your new phis-phiso…uh, th-therapist.” The timid woman tried to smile at the young woman sitting on the bed.



If she hadn’t known better she wouldn’t have thought anything was the matter with her legs. The younger woman held herself with poise; her very aura oozed strength and power.



And hostility.



Buffy raised an eyebrow, dismissively looking the woman up and down. “So, you’re the new one, huh?” She rolled her eyes as Eleanor jumped at her sharp tone.



This one made five in two weeks and from the looks of it they were down to scraping the bottom of the barrel.



The first two had been easily deterred by her violence. Things thrown around them…they’d all cracked under the pressure and the fear.



Fear was something Buffy was good at instilling. She’d had a lot of practise. Except her practise was with demons – creatures that killed for a living – fought for fun.



Humans were a walk in the park in comparison. And she tended to over-do it.



Then had come Matron Pain…Buffy had been proud of her…a full five days she’d lasted before running from the house in floods of tears.



But the piest d’resistance was Aaron Nelson. He’d been the easiest of the bunch. She’d taunted and teased him…mocking him and his position with her promises of wild sexual abuse allegations.



“I’ll tell them you touched me…” She’d whispered venomously, her cold eyes staring directly into his shocked ones on the third day. “…tell them how you tied me down and put a gag in my mouth when I tried to scream for help. I’ll tell them how you struck me, and forced your cock inside me…”



“…How you showed me the blood you’d cut from me so I could know how rough you’d been. You’d probably like to do that, wouldn’t you Nelly-boy?”



“Is it one of your sick dark fantasies that you beat off too when you go off to the bathroom? I bet your wife would love to hear all about it…”



Buffy figured this one wouldn’t last the day.



Ten minutes into the first ‘session’ the woman still hadn’t been able to edge away from the door frame, and neither would she be able to given the look on her face as the Slayer continued her individual brand of verbal assault on the poor woman.



“Did you know the skill it takes to kill a Polaraksh demon? You have to slide a Jakata dagger straight down the centre of its spine, watch as it begins to shake and its outer skin starts to dissolve. You have a split second before it explodes.” She slid said knife out of her bedside draw, running the tip of the blade achingly slowly over the wood and then on to the bed.



She continued in her deceptively sweet voice, as Ms. Pastel stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the dagger. “Do you have any idea of the quantity of blood I have on my hands? The pain and the shrieks that haunt my dreams…the people I’ve allowed to kill…to be killed.” Buffy shrugged with a mockery of a smile gracing her lips.



She drew the dagger over her uncovered legs, watching dispassionately as trails of bright red blood sprung up behind her as she cut lightly into her thighs.



Eleanor gasped, knowing inside that she needed to move – to get help. But her mind had shut down and her body shook with fear.



“Did you know, that if I push the knife in deep the blood changes colour?” Buffy asked conversationally as her hand continued to trail light zig-zags across her useless legs.



The nurse let out a shriek as suddenly the dagger was flying through the air, and embedded itself in the new plaster just two inches from her head. Tears poured out of the woman’s eyes as she finally found the courage to escape.



She pounded down the stairs, sobbing all the way and ignoring the distressed sounds of the kind gentleman who had let her in earlier.



“Bye…” Buffy grinned as the door slammed shut downstairs.



Moments later Giles appeared in the doorway, a shocked and worried look on his face.



Buffy shrugged flippantly when he took in the sight of her bloodied legs and the ceremonial knife in the wall. “Was it something I said?”



Giles sighed silently, shaking his head. Without a word he turned from the room to head to downstairs for the medical box so that he could wrap her wounds. He knew they didn’t really need it – they’d mend in an hour, something that Buffy hated all the more as she knew her mobility would not.



But he needed the break from her; he didn’t want her to see his grief.



Buffy’s shoulders slumped the second the door closed. As the footsteps got further and further away her body started trembling.



Shaking.



She couldn’t stop it.



Tears poured down her face but her hands were shaking too badly for her to wipe them away.



God, what was she doing?



This wasn’t right – it wasn’t her…



That poor woman… She’d been so scared…so very, very frightened.



She’d done that to her. Buffy had. No-one else.



“What am I doing?” She whispered to the room.



Buffy jumped as the heard Giles start wearily up the stairs once more.



The reaction was instantaneous.



Her body stopped shaking; her hands quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as her face moulded itself into a mask of disinterest.



She knew why she was doing this.



She had to. She had to be free.



*This is the only way.* She thought despairingly, just as Giles opened the door once more, wet cloth and gauze in hand.



---



“I just don’t know what to do. We’ve tried so hard…I’m so sorry for all this trouble, I never thought…” Joyce was at a loss for words as she tried, yet again, to plead the case for her daughter to Dr. Walker.



“I understand, Joyce. Buffy is having a hard time adjusting – it’s not unheard of. And no-one’s blaming any of you. Especially not Buffy.” She stated kindly.



Mrs. Summers sighed out her relief. “I don’t know what to do.” She reiterated.



“It is….” Kate paused, searching for the right words. “…highly unconventional, but there is always the possibility of a family member or close friend learning to undertake the daily therapy; it is what we were trying to build towards in any case.”



Joyce’s eyes lit up at the seemingly perfect suggestion, listening with rapt attention as the doctor continued with her conditions.



“Regular visits would need to be undertaken by a certified therapist to ensure that no problems were developing under the surface.” She stated unequivocally. The other woman readily voiced her concurrence.



After another pause, Dr. Walker continued. “As I said, this is highly unconventional – I wouldn’t dream of suggesting it under normal circumstances, however, Buffy is strong and I believe that with family commitment this could aid in her physical and mental readjustment.”



“As with everything, it may take time, but at this point I truly believe that this is the best course of action for your daughter.”



Joyce nodded eagerly, “Tell me what I need to do.”





TBC in Chapter Six: Alienation....

...reviews make it come quicker!

Chapter Six: Alienation







“Fuck you!” She screamed through the door, sliding down onto the soft carpet outside the room, her head pounding.



She was shaking.



Her whole body was trembling.



Sweat dripped down her face and splashed against her eyelashes with the strain it took to keep herself contained.



“Willow? Sweetie? What happened? Are you-“ Tara’s voice tailed off as she came upon her lover cowered in the corner of the hallway.



Her hair was jet black. Her previously carefully painted nails had morphed into jagged claws. As her hands clenched Tara could see little trails of bloody from where they had dug into her skin.



“W-Willow?” Tara stuttered, leaning forward to carefully brush a lock of hair away from the Witches’ face. The blonde let out a little gasp when she saw her eyes, what were usually a pretty emerald colour were now shimmering pools of black ink.



“Are you okay?” The gentle Witch asked, only love and worry reflected in her calm orbs as she took the other girl’s hands in hers, gently magicing away the pain of her cuts.



“T-T-Tara….” Willow let out a little sob and curled into her embrace.



“What happened?” Tara eventually asked, gently stroking her back to try and calm her.



“I nearly lost control again.” Willow shivered. “She was saying all this stuff – stuff I thought was forgotten.” She looked up at her lover with teary, green eyes. “God, Tara, she must hate me!”



“She doesn’t hate you.”



“You didn’t hear her!” Willow insisted, her still-black eyes wide with pain.



“I didn’t have to – I know Buffy; she loves us all. She’s just really hurt right now, she needs time to feel better. I think she thinks she’s doing it for our own good – she can’t see that we love her and want to help her be well.” Tara sighed softly, brushing another lock of hair from Willow’s eyes. “Where is she now? I can’t hear anything.”



Willow looked shame-faced. “I put her to sleep….I just needed her to stop saying those things…I know it was wrong – I’m so sorry, baby. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think I couldn’t control myself.”



“I know, honey. I know.” Willow shuddered, curling back into her embrace. “Maybe it would be better if Buffy had a different therapist. Maybe Xander?”



“Yeah…” Willow sighed, sitting up. Her hair had returned to its normal reddish colour, and her fingers were once again a soft pink.



“Maybe we should go downstairs and wait for Joyce to come home?”



---



“This is your wet dream come true, isn’t it Xander?”



“Sorry, Buff, you’re not gonna get to me this time.” Xander averted his eyes from the Slayer’s cold face as he attempted to continue sponge bathing Buffy’s limp legs.



Buffy snorted at that: “Yeah right – where’s your ‘Orgasm Buddy’” She sneered, putting on a high pitched voice for the title.



“Anya’s at the shop.” He replied simply, trying not to draw on any provocation.



There was silence for a full ten minutes, and Xander thought she’d had enough. That she had nothing left to hurl at him to try and push him away. Allowing himself a small smile, he rose, collecting the sponge into the plastic bowl of water. He carefully pat-dried her legs, making sure to get all the moisture. Once he was done he looked around for the cream he was meant to rub in.



It wasn’t there.



*Must still be in the bathroom.* He thought and turned to face the girl lying on the bed.



“I’m just gonna get the cream stuff, Buff – I’ll just be a minute. You want anything while I’m gone?” He asked kindly.



She didn’t answer. Her cold stare burned through him and internally he sighed. Well, at least she had nothing left to say…



But then, just as he was almost at the door it started again from nothing.



“You think anyone bought your whole ‘amnesia’ crap after that hyena episode?”



He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “What?” It had been years ago – where was she going with this?



Even as he was drawn into her web, his brain kept repeating to himself; *It's a trap, it's a trap, it's a trap....don't get caught...she's trying to goad you...*



“That whole grrrr, argh, I’m gonna eat you – remember you were a violent, raping creature – must have made some sort of impression on your psyche!”



*Trap, trap, trap....*



His mind barely registered the word ‘rape’, still stuck on the fact that she didn’t believe he hadn’t remembered. “What? Buffy, I couldn’t remember anything…” But the guilt was written all over his face and the Slayer brought up another past hurt, and as the memories resurface they helped fuel her anger.



“Bullshit!” She threw the nearest thing to hand at him, but as all the breakables had, well, broken, all that was there was a pillow. It bounced harmlessly to the floor.



“I would never hurt you-“



“Please...” She interrupted. “You got off on trying to rape me!”



*TRAP! TRAP! TRAP!*



But he wasn't listening to his inner warnings, all he could hear was her accusing voice....and the truth in her words.



“Buffy - no!” Horrified he took a step backward. He’d thought she’d forgotten about it.



As if reading his thoughts she spoke again, “Sorry, baby – being almost violated by your best friend is not something a girl forgets in a hurry.”



He was shaking…and his head moved back and forth in denial of her words. He tried to open his mouth, to refute what she had just said, but the words stuck in his throat as the memories he’d tried to push down remerged.



“It made you feel like a big man, didn’t it Xander. Cornering the poor, unprotected girl and going in for the kill.” Her voice was saccharine sweet as her accusing eyes glared into him.



He’d never forgotten it though. He still had dreams, nightmares – he still wasn’t sure how to categorise them. He could still feel her underneath him, squirming and writhing – he could even remember the glorious scent of her fear.



It scared him, because he continued to get off on it now. He groaned silently as his body hardened against his will.



She noticed.



"God, you're disgusting. You think I'm blind as well as paralysed?! I can see you!" She indicated his hard-on with a flick of her wrist.



His fists clenched as he tried to reign in some control.



But, she was still talking.



Still twisting his gut with her words.



Still pushing him further and further toward the edge.



“I guess that’s why you like Anya so much…bet she has lots of storied of how she trapped innocent men, tortured and fucked them to death – God, to hear her talk on our ‘Girls’ nights you’d think she was still a demon.” She smiled cruelly as she watched the anger build in the man in front of her. “But then that’s what turns you on the most – that’s why you hate Angel and Spike; you’re just trying to hide it, not very well by the way….ooooh!” She squealed as she suddenly thought of another angle. “Unless you’re jealous…always fantasised about having a Vampire cock up your ass?”



“SHUT UP!” He stormed forward, his arm raised ready to do anything; whatever it took to get her to stop talking.



Buffy didn’t move, thoroughly unimpressed. “Yeah – show me what a real man is like…” She taunted.



But her words didn’t get the desired effect, he didn’t fold; he broke..



It wasn’t Buffy’s words he heard in his head, but his mother’s – just before his father would start with the fists.



No.



He wasn’t his father.



He’d never be his father.



But…what was his hand doing? His fist – it was clenched…why?



Xander stood for a moment, silent in shock. God…he’d been about to hit her. His best friend, the one that had saved him more times then he could count and he’d been about to hit her…



A few words and he’d nearly lost it.



She needed his help, and he’d almost hit her.



Buffy might have still been talking, he didn’t know, all he could hear was his own damning voice inside his head, screaming out the accusations.



He had to get out of here – he had to leave before he did something he would forever regret.



“I-I’m sorry Buffy, I’ll come see you soon.” He finally managed to stutter, quickly walking out of the room, his whole body shaking.



He muttered a quick apology to Joyce as he passed her on the stairs without stopping, and walked straight out the front door.



Buffy heard the door slam, and the confident smirk that had graced her lips dropped like a house of cards in a soft breeze. Her head flopped to the side in shame as the tears slowly started to fall, the same way they had done after every other confrontation.



This emotional upheaval was hurting her more then she ever could have anticipated.



With every person she pushed away, a little part of her died inside, because she didn't really want to hurt them. Didn't want to push them to the edge, make them loose control and begin to snap.



Didn't want to cause them pain.



But then again, she died a little....because in a way...she did.



Everything she'd said to them was true, every sore she'd pulled, poked and prodded at was real. And every wrong she'd accused them of had happened.



Which was why it hurt them all the more.



---



Her hair hung limply, in disarray around her face. It whipped round, nearly hitting Joyce in the eye as she bent to get better leverage.



Buffy just continued to scowl at her from her position on the unmade bed.



“No! Get off me! I don’t want you touching me!”



“Buffy, please…” Joyce tried again.



For the thirtieth time at least.



“NO! God, what is wrong with you?!” She shouted scornfully.



“What is wrong with YOU?!” Her mother finally exclaimed, letting go of the sheet she was trying to use to turn Buffy over so she could massage her behind and legs so that she wouldn’t get bed sores. “I am trying – I can’t believe you don’t see that!”



“I want to be left alone – I can’t believe YOU don’t see that!” Buffy mocked her words back at her.



“You should be careful what you wish for, ‘cause at the rate you're going you WILL be all alone!” Joyce snapped, pure frustrated fury glistening in her eyes. "Don't you see what you are doing is tearing your friends apart? Can't you see how selfish you're being? People are trying to help and all you do is cause them more pain!"



The older woman immediately felt guilty when she saw tears well up in her daughters’ eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“



The tears that had briefly shone brightly in Buffy’s eyes quickly disappeared as the Slayer came to the forefront and hardened her heart.



“Get. Out.”



“Buffy…” It was now Joyce’s hazel eyes that swum in tears.



When her daughter next opened her mouth it was the Slayer that spoke cold, calculating words in her voice. Joyce took a deep breath and walked calmly from the room, shutting the door gently behind her.



Finally she saw it; the way out. She’d been going about this recovery thing in completely the wrong fashion.



She wasn’t dealing with her daughter, or even the Buffy/Slayer combination she loved just as much.



She was dealing with The Slayer.



Pure.



Simple.



An unadulterated hunter.



And she only knew of one person who’d aced the course in dealing with that.





TBC.... In Chapter Seven :: Evil

A/N: Please do, do review!

Chapter Seven: Evil





“I know you’re not going to be happy with this Buffy – no, just let me speak! I’m afraid this is the only way. For God’s sake, young lady, your sister is scared to pass your room at night!”



Joyce noted that Buffy winced at that – one of the few shows of emotion she’d seen over the past couple of weeks. She truly felt that it wouldn’t be long before Buffy pushed herself one way or the other.



Either back to her old self.



Or continued via this rocky path she was currently heading down.



What she was scared of was that her choice may end up being the one that might lead to her destruction, and no-one would be able to help her.



That no-one would have the strength to deal with the persona she was currently sporting.



Which was what had prompted her to this solution that was so imperfect it was almost….perfect.



“I will not have him in my house.” Buffy stated unequivocally.



“Sorry ducks.” The ‘him’ in question said from his position leaning against the wardrobe. “It’s not just your house.”



“Oh, so my opinion doesn’t count?”



“Oh, it counts – just not the only one about, that’s all. Come on, Slayer – you never had to work with a new situation?” Spike smirked at her externally, but on the inside he was a bundle of nerves. What was he meant to say to her? What was he meant to do? Should he tease her, or just let her let it all out when she was ready?



Or none of the above?



*Christ, I’m in too deep…*



“I’m paralysed! That’s a very new situation!”



“And you’re dealing with it so well.” Spike snarked back.



Buffy went very still as the plan she’d been working towards flashed in her mind. “I’m dealing with it.” She spoke the words with quiet, cold conviction that made Spike’s borrowed blood run cold. He paused for a moment, before bouncing back into the ring.



Joyce winced at the reminder that her daughter was indeed paralysed, but the feeling disappeared as the two fake blondes continued to argue over her head and then she realised something: this was the most like her old self Buffy had seemed since the whole evil affair had happened.



Joyce tried to sneak out and leave them to it, but Buffy caught her. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? You’re just leaving him here?”



Her mother opened her mouth to respond, but Spike beat her too it. “Is that any way to speak to your mum?”



“Fuck off, Spike.” She growled, scowling at him.



“Buffy – I’ll just be downstairs if you need anything.” Joyce was half out the door, and continued moving as her daughter shouted out her reply; she never heard her daughter’s response.



“I need you to stop fucking around with my life and get this thing out of here!” Buffy screamed, but when her mother didn’t answer she turned back towards the creature that did.



“Pet, I think it’s time to let it go. I’m staying. Deal with it.”



“You’re not part of this house, Spike. You’re not welcome here – just like everywhere else in your life, right?” When he said nothing in response she continued, trying to get a rise out of him, working the same ouchies she’d worked so well with all the others.



“You’re pathetic, Spike. Can’t be a Vampire, can’t be a human. You don’t fit in anywhere, do you? Ooooh, poor Spikey - nobody wants you around. God, not even your Sire can stand you; you’re that repulsive. You’re an evil, disgusting thing. You don’t deserve to be here.”



Despite being about a foot below him, she still managed to stare down her upturned nose at him. Her voice was cold and emotionless as she spoke the final damning words of her monologue. “You’re beneath me, Spike.”



Spike was silent through it all, taking in the multitude of venomous words as they spewed from her mouth. Then an evil smirk crossed his lips.



Buffy watched, finally quiet, as his scarred eyebrow rose high up on his forehead.



“Is that it, pet?”



“Fuck off, Spike.” The response was automatic.



“I don’t scare that easily, Buff. I think you forget who you’re dealing with.” He spoke quietly, not a single quiver in his baritone as he enunciated every word.



“Oh, yeah? And who am I dealing with? An impotent, neutered Vampire that has nothing better to do but follow the Slayer around like a little lap dog?”



“You’re talking, love…” He began dramatically, a darkness to his voice that she hadn’t heard in a long, long time. “..to one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. I’ve tortured, maimed and pillaged for centuries…sticks and stones don’t even hedge on what will hurt me, little girl.”



His tone jumped up to a teasing quality and he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Well, maybe sticks do.”



It forced a giggle out of her.



They both stopped: shocked.



She’d laughed. Even if only for a millisecond - she’d laughed.



She.



Had.



Laughed.



*No, no, no, no, no….* This couldn’t happen – this wasn’t the plan. She knew the plan, planned the plan down to the last detail. He wasn’t going to ruin this for her. *Damn it, Spike! How do you draw me out like that? No-one else can…Just think of the plan, think of the plan – remember how much better they’ll all feel when you’re gone. They don’t need to look after an invalid for the rest of their lives. They’ll be so much happier….and you’ll be at peace…finally you can rest…* The words calmed her down, reminded her of the goal that had been ever-present in her mind from the moment she’d woken up until this very day.



Spike watched as Buffy immediately withdrew into herself.



No – that wasn’t good. He needed her out and fighting. She had to remember she was a fighter – she couldn’t give up; he wouldn’t let her.



He tried and tried, but nothing would pull her out. It was if she couldn’t hear him. She didn’t want to hear him. The only thing he could hear was the iron doors as they slammed shut in her brain as she retreated and became the silent, unresponsive Buffy of a month ago.



He leant forward and shook her violently, trying to physically dispel the barriers she’d erected, but to no avail. He wrenched back with a growl.



His voice softened and he stopped pacing the room, “I’m going downstairs, pet, gonna go get everything set up in the basement. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?”



She was unresponsive. The face and the voice that had spewed so much hatred and pain over past month since the knowledge of her debilitation were vacant in every connotation of the word.



She’d gone…he’d had her, and he lost her. Again.



---



“Is everything alright? It all went quiet? What happened? Is Buffy asleep – the last time it was quiet was when Willow put her to sleep – is she okay?” Joyce bombarded him with questions the second he entered the kitchen.



He rubbed a weary hand over his old, tired face. “I don’t know what happened, Joyce. One minute we were arguing – her trying to push me away as always. Then I cracked a joke – and she laughed.”



“She laughed? Oh God, really?” Joyce clung to the words with new found hope. “She laughed…” She said it more to herself then to Spike, loving the feel of the words in her mouth and the sound of them in her mind.



He looked up at her momentarily before his guilt-ridden eyes found the table top. “I’m so sorry, Joyce – I don’t know what happened.” He reiterated. “She laughed, then she stopped suddenly and now she’s just silent, staring at the wall.”



“I tried to pull her back out, get her to talk, shout, cry…anything! But she just won’t move…she just stares at the damn wall.” He repeated.



Her words were a whisper in the silence that had encompassed the room for the past couple of minutes as she voiced the painful truth of the situation. “You got too close.”



Spike barely heard her, even with Vampiric hearing. “What?” It came out a croak as he attempted not the let the despair that was teetering around them both envelope him.



“That’s the first time she’s laughed since it happened. She’s been so cruel to everyone, and no-one could get through to her, but you got through and she laughed…” Joyce took a deep calming breath as she started to babble. “Jeffery – her psychologist – he said this might happen. That when the break through occurred, it would throw her; she wouldn’t know how to deal with it. So she’s protecting herself. He said we have to be there for her…” She suddenly reached across the table, grasping his cool hand tightly.



Her eyes were wild with her fear, and the normal gentle woman had a death grip on him. “You have to stay. You can’t leave. She reacts to you – you set her off. You have to stay – promise me you’ll stay?!” By the end of her monologue Joyce was nearly shouting.



Spike hastily reached over, covering both their hands with his other one. “Of course I’ll stay. I promise we’ll get her through this…” He spoke with such conviction that the younger woman had no choice but to believe him.



They were silent for a few minutes as Joyce retracted her hand. “I know how you feel about her.” She began.



“Joyce-“ If he could have blushed, he would have been as red as a beach ball.



“No, I’m happy for her, happy for you. I know you must be hating this as much as we all are. And I wanted to say how…sorry I am for not inviting you round sooner.”



“You had other things on your mind, the pet Vampire is hardly top concern.” He tried to brush away his hurt, but it still stung that no-one, except Dawn, had even spoken to him since it happened. He’d tried to come to the house but had been warned away more times then he could count. He’d stopped trying for fear of the Witches erecting a magical barrier forever barring his entry.



“Not true…I should have had Buffy’s feelings more in mind. I’ve been so swayed by doctors…and, I’m sorry to say it; Rupert and Xander’s opinions that I didn’t even realise who we’ve been dealing with up until now. And maybe if I h-had-“ She couldn’t go on, and tears rolled down her thin cheeks.



“Hey now…It’s not your fault…if anyone were to have spotted it, it should have been Giles. He should have known the Slayer would have been her self-defence mechanism.” He quieted his voice the moment he realised he’d raised it. “I think I’ll go back up, check if everything’s still okay.”



“Okay. Oh, I’ve made up a bed in the basement. It’s not much, I’m afraid – are you sure you won’t get cold?”



“Nah – vampire. Thank you, though. For asking.”



“Everyone needs a little mothering.” Joyce nodded her head as if to say she agreed with her own statement, and stood, collecting the untouched hot chocolate mugs from the table – he hadn’t noticed them, and she’d plain forgot them the moment he’d told her Buffy’s had laughed. And then left them once more.



“Spike?”



The vampire turned on the bottom step, smiling kindly at the obviously tired woman.



“Thank-you.”



There was a world of warmth injected into those two little words, but he didn’t need them.



“I love her.” He stated and carried on up the stairs, as if that explained everything.



As Joyce turned around, emptying the mugs into the sink, she realised that actually it did.





TBC ASAP in...Chapter Eight: Saved…If Only For A Day

A/N: Please do review - it's always great to hear how readers think the story is moving :)

Chapter Eight: Saved…If Only For A Day



A Week Later…



His voice was calm as he spoke, not a hint of the anger or frustration he was feeling inside. “Okay, pet. Water shouldn’t be too hot, I’m just popping downstairs for a bite to eat and then I’ll be back up, okay?”



As always she said nothing. Her eyes remained vacantly on a single spot behind his head.



He sighed.



Earlier this week he hadn’t been sure what was better, her silence or her anger.



He had decided, late last night, that the anger would have been better. The anger he could deal with, the anger he could have used to draw her out, the same way he had that first night.



But she was simply unresponsive; a stark contrast to her persona of the past four weeks. Her friends had a hard time dealing with it. That, and the fact the Joyce was adamant that the Slayer stay in Spike’s care had kept them away more than it should this past week. He was ashamed of them, but stayed silent for the eldest Summers’ sake, opting instead to keep a quiet and watchful vigil over Buffy everyday and most nights.



“Alright, Buffy, up we go…” He gently slid his arms under her limp legs and behind her back, and lifted her with an ease that was, to the unknowing eye, supernatural to say the least.



He walked carefully out of the bedroom door and into the bathroom. With strong arms, he lowered her into the tub of shallow water, politely averting his eyes from her naked body.



His hands moved away from her skin and he stood up. “I’ll be just a minute, pet…”



With one last look, he swept down the stairs, making sure to leave the door open so that he could hear…anything.



The moment she heard him enter the kitchen her eyes unglazed and she blinked several times to dispel the dry sensation that seemed to spread over her face with every aching moment spent silent and expressionless. Her body tingled all over and she took a deep breath to calm herself.



She could feel his hands imprinted wherever he’d touched, wherever he’d brushed her skin.



Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as a shiver of remembered pleasure ran through her body. Tears leaked from beneath her now tightly closed lids as she recalled his lack of reaction to touching her. Before the accident she had taken great pleasure in watching Spike when she would brush up against him in one way or another.



His eyes would roll back, much the same way hers just had. His nostrils would flair and she would watch him inhale purposeful breaths to calm himself down. And then, when he finally thought he was in control, his eyes would open allowing Buffy to see the full exposure of unadulterated passion within them.



But that didn’t happen anymore.



There were no eye rolls, no unneeded but oh-so-expressive breaths; no passion.



Nothing.



He wasn’t in love with her anymore.



Her heart ached in a way she hadn’t known was possible from the emotions this epiphany had brought her. The knowledge only doused oil on the fire of her determination.



God....what was wrong with her? This was what she had wanted, what she had planned for...she knew it would hurt...



Just not this much.



She looked around at the warmish water she was bathing in; barely ten inches deep. Her chest expanded with a silent, scornful laugh at the erudition that he’d done it so she couldn’t slip and drown.



Oh, the irony…



With quick, jerky movements she practically scratched the tears off her pale cheeks. *No more tears; no more pain.*



Her breathing sped up as her hands reached out towards the other side of the bath, the one close to the wall. Her no longer short nails slid down the side of the plastic with frightening ease. They searched around until she came across her quarry and dug her nails in to stop it slipping away.



With silent determination she pulled up and drew out a thin piece of metal from the side of the bath.



She had found it there three days ago, but this was the first time she had been left alone since making her discovery and consequently had thought of little else but its existence. She could only assume that Xander had unknowingly and accidentally let it slip down the edge when he was installing the hand rail in the bath, and had since forgotten about it.



Buffy looked down at the metal sheet that lay lightly in her hands. She could barely feel it, the weight hardly made an impression.



Well, it’d soon be making a huge impression…one that she doubted anyone would ever forget.



She shifted the weapon to her right hand, lifting it above her up-turned left wrist.



Her hand shook as face after face flashed through her mind and indecision and determination warred within her.



Willow, Xander, Anya, Tara, Giles, Spike, Dawn… Her Mother.



Her breathing sped up and she began to hyperventilate as fear and uncertainty spread through her body.



*No.*



She had to do this.



It would be better for them; they could get on with their lives.



She would finally be able to rest.



*I have to end it.*



With quiet determination, she drew the metal deep into her wrist, watching dispassionately as the deep red blood welled up from within the vein she’d broken.



The precious life-giving fluid slid rapidly from the wound on to her milky white skin and into the shallow water, mixing slowly with the other liquid; turning it a rusty shade of pink.



She couldn’t feel a thing.



She was past pain.



And she was about to be free.



Forever.



---



Spike watched, as if hypnotised, the blood rotate round and round in the microwave, listening to the machine sound out its final affirmations as it concluded its cycle.



His mind was blank, shut down in protection against the constant emotional onslaught that had been the past month; all that he knew was that he had to eat – and the hunger drove him to complete this daily task.



With a weary sigh, he popped open the door and, out of habit, carefully removed the heated mug. His stomach growled, reminding him that he was just watching the food and not actually eating it. He lifted the cup to his face, taking a deep breath as he did so; savouring the scent of the liquid.



However, it wasn’t pig’s blood that hit his senses but something much sweeter, much richer and much more powerful that overrode all other scents in the house.



Slayer blood.



For a millisecond he paused while his brain caught up with what it was that his senses were detecting; and the ramifications of such recognition.



“Buffy!” The words left his lips through a growl, though he did not realise it. The mug fell carelessly to the floor where it shattered instantly upon impact, sending shards of pottery, and splatters of blood to the ground. It spread quickly over the kitchen floor, staining the perfect white tiles.



He was unaware of it all.



Spike flew up the stairs in a burst of vampiric speed and was in the bathroom mere moments later. He didn’t need any time to take in the situation; he’d already come to the accurate conclusion downstairs.



The blade was whipped out from her hands and flung from her vicinity in an instant. It imbedded itself in the wall outside the door.



The once translucent water was a dirty pink hue that was getting darker and darker as more and more innocent blood flowed from her body.



The vampire growled loudly, snatching her from the water, thinking of nothing else but getting her out and far away from this destructive scene. Slayer in his arms, he stormed into her bedroom, dropping her on the bed as his eyes roamed her body searching for other cuts, though logically he knew there to be none.



Somewhere in the back of his mind, his senses recognised that she hadn’t lost too much blood. The wound was in fact healing, and had been from the moment the blade had entered her skin despite the continued pressure of the sharp metal on her wrist – a plus of Slayer healing. He could practically hear the blood cells regrouping and replicating within her veins.



With quick, sure movements he tore a long strip off the bottom of his black t-shirt, wrapping it securely around the angry, yet perfect wound. Still growling continuously the vampire dragged Buffy’s unresponsive body towards him, clutching her close as tears of worry, pain and concern poured down his marble cheeks.



His body rocked them back and forth as he tried to come to grips with the fact that he’d nearly lost her. Again.



Buffy didn’t move.



Couldn’t.



She wanted to lash out, to scream, to cry, to hit out at the injustice of it all...



But she couldn't.



Her whole being was in shock, hardly capable of believing that she had been able to take the first step.



To make the first attempt.



She could barely feel Spike’s arms as they tightened cruelly around her. She couldn’t hear his furious growl, or the whining purr being emitted from his taut body as he continued to rock.



Thoughts and accusations swirled in her brain.



She’d failed.



She. Had. Failed.



She was still alive.



Still alive, still a burden, still paralysed.



*No, no, no, no, no….*



She had to try again, she had to end it.



It was for the best.



Together they sat infolded with each other, lost in their own thoughts.



Each enveloped by pain.





TBC ASAP In.....Interlude: Guilty