Sideways Shanshu Part 3

The ride in the ambulance had been harrowing, watching the paramedic

work while he asked her a barrage of questions; was he allergic to any

medications, what was his prior medical history, and so on--none of

which she could answer with any certainty.

Soon they were climbing back out again, and the emergency room erupted

into controlled chaos. Buffy tried to follow him, but a nurse pulled her

away and tried to get more medical information that she didn't know out

of her.

Seeing Buffy's distress, the woman asked her what his name was. Buffy

thought she could answer that, at least, but then realized she didn't

know his last name. "He's--we call him Spike, but his first name is

William. I don't know his last name, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Why don't you have a seat over here, and the doctor will

come out to talk to you as soon as he can."

Buffy nodded, having done this before. There would paperwork, of course,

and since Spike had obviously been attacked, the police would be called.

Thankfully, she and the police had come to an uneasy understanding over

the years--if she told them the attacker was supernatural, they would

nod, write it down in their notebook, and leave without too much follow-

up.

She stared down at her hands, noticing for the first time that they were

covered in his blood. Some of it was also on her sweater, a dark purple

one she had thrown on after looking for Dawn in the house, but it was

dark enough that the blood didn't really show. A small blessing,

perhaps.

The adrenaline tapered off, leaving her leg and ribs burning from pain

and fatigue. Slayer strength had kept her from falling on her face for

this long, but it couldn't hold out definitely. She stood up to try and

find a washroom to clean off her hands, but just then a doctor--a man

who was at least in his early fifties, and looked more like a kind uncle

at that moment--approached her warily.

"I'm Dr. Kingsley. Are you the one who came with William?"

"Yes! Yes, I am--is he going to be okay?" She laced her fingers together

nervously, dreading the news.

"He's stable for the moment. As you probably know, he's lost a lot of

blood and the lacerations on his body are pretty severe. We removed the

glass shards from his back, and luckily his burns don't seem to have any

deep tissue damage, but a burn specialist will have to determine that

for sure. He's being taken up to the operating room, since he has some

interior damage from the deep puncture wound in his abdomen, and there's

been a substantial amount of internal bleeding."

"What...are his chances of surviving? Realistically?"

The doctor shook his head. "I won't hedge this with you; he's in

critical condition. The fact that he's held on this long is a good sign,

but surviving through surgery will be the first milestone." He looked at

her in compassion, then added, "If you know of any family members of his

that you can contact, you'd better do so as soon as possible."

Buffy's expression was bittersweet. "He doesn't have any family. They

all died a long time ago."

The kindly man nodded in understanding. "What about you? Is there

someone you can call?"

Reflexively she thought of her mother, and then she felt the tears

welling up in her eyes, unable to stop them. The fact that she wouldn't

ever be able to call her mom for help again hit her hard in a moment

when she wasn't prepared to deal with the cold reality. "I have friends

who should be coming soon."

Dr. Kingsley put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "Are you all right?"

Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes with a clean edge of her sleeve.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I just--I lost my mom yesterday. And my dad's in

France and I can't reach him," her voice broke on the last word, her

grief threatening to take over.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize...why don't I have a nurse stay with you

until your friends show up."

The offer yanked her back into the present. "No, no, that's so nice of

you, but I don't want to burden anyone. They'll be here soon, anyway.

But thanks for offering." She gave him a watery smile, and after he

promised to make sure someone would check on her in a while, he left to

head back to the emergency room.

Rather than sitting back on the vinyl couch, Buffy darted to the nearest

washroom to clean off her hands and face, and try to pull herself back

together, both for her sake and for Spike's.

****

By the time Buffy came out of the washroom, the rest of the gang had

arrived. She ran into Tara in the hallway, and she lead her back to the

waiting room where everyone but Giles was sitting down. Before she could

ask where he was, he came over from the direction of the main desk.

"There you are, Buffy! The nurse thought you were over here..."

"I was, I just...had to wash blood off my hands," she held them out for

show, having managed to get most of it off. "The blood stains on the

sweater, I'll have to do that at home."

The group fell into awkward silence, then Dawn walked over and hugged

her sister, the first chance they'd gotten to truly reunite since the

conflict was resolved. Buffy gratefully took that hug, thankful that

things hadn't gone worse than they did. "I'm gonna talk to you later

about what you did, Dawn, but for now I want you to go home with Willow

and Tara."

"Buffy, c'mon. I'm old enough to stay."

"That's not the issue," she replied, in her best mom-voice. "You'll be

less bored at home. And you've got friends of your own that you need to

talk with."

"I don't care. I want to stay until we know Spike is going to be all

right."

Buffy pulled away and looked at her sister, smiling in gratitude. "We

aren't going to know that for hours, Dawn."

"Hours?" She seemed to rethink the idea. "How many hours, do you think?"

"Several. He's in the operating room right now. They won't know more

until the surgery's over with."

Dawn looked down at the floor, then rallied with, "Could I stay for a

little while? An hour?"

"Thirty minutes."

Dawn crossed her arms. "Forty-five. And not a minute less."

"You drive a hard bargain, but I guess it's doable." Buffy guided Dawn

over to a chair, then sat next to Willow on the couch. Xander was

walking around aimlessly, but when he noticed Buffy's continued silence,

he spoke up on something that obviously had been churning in his mind.

"I don't get it--why are we here, Buffy? He's not a part of the group.

We already agreed that we weren't going to be his patsies."

She stared at him as if he were blind. Or stupid. "Xander, he's human

now. He's not a vampire anymore."

"So, that's supposed to mean he's all cuddly now? Spike the big ol'

human teddy bear?"

Willow looked at him in surprise. "Xander--"

"No, Willow. Let me finish. Do you think I forgot that I got the crap

beaten out of me by him when he came back here, crying over Drusilla? Or

anything of the other things he's done in the past? Since he was

chipped, I let it slide...but he's not being held back, anymore. And

there's no guarantee a soul is going to make him Mr. Nice Guy."

"Xander, you know better than this," Buffy replied with deadly calm.

"The soul he has now is going to cause remorse and guilt, if he lives

through surgery and manages to recover. If what you want is an apology,

then I suggest you be quiet and wait this out, like the rest of us."

He stared at her, incredulous. "Why do you care so much what happens to

him? It's not like he wasn't using us to get to you, pretending to go

along and getting well paid for it, I might add. I'm sure that once he's

awake, his little demon-fueled Slayer obsession will be gone and he'll

be back to his annoying deadly self."

"Shut *up*, Xander," Buffy heard from her right, and to her surprise and

Xander's shock, it had come from Dawn. Her eyes were full of a contempt

that had never been targeted at him before.

Xander smiled shakily. "Hey, Dawn, I didn't mean--"

"Just shut up! You don't know *anything*, okay? He saved Buffy's life

last night, and he's in surgery right now because he saved mine. And

now, all we're doing is talking about whether he should have died, or

not? What kind of gratitude is that? He might have sacrificed his life

to bring me back, and if he dies I'll never get to tell him I'm sorry--"

she broke off, her voice failing her. No one said a word, as a wave of

reproach and shame echoed around the room.

Xander cleared his throat at last. "I'm sorry, Dawn. I just...I guess

I'm still angry at him. I can't just absolve him that quickly, but I

shouldn't have said it like that. I'm not thinking." His eyes widened

with dread, and then he added, "Oh, I'm definitely not thinking. I

didn't tell Anya that I left my apartment. She doesn't know where I am--

I'd better call her before I find out I don't have an apartment to go

back to. Excuse me." And with that, he dashed off to the row of pay

phones nearby.

"He's definitely ex-demon-whipped," Willow nodded sagely, and Buffy

couldn't help her smile of amusement, even in the face of more impending

gloom.

****

The police came shortly afterwards, catching Xander before he left to go

back and get his car from Buffy's house--Anya didn't take kindly to

being left out of the loop, and he had some serious groveling to do to

get back in her good graces. The questioning didn't last long, once

Buffy mentioned her name and indicated that the perpetrator was

supernatural in origin. The male and female officers nodded uneasily,

took down their statements, and left--the relief evident on both sides.

Most of an hour went by, and Buffy forced Dawn to head home with Willow

and Tara. That left Giles and Buffy alone in the room, waiting for

whatever news the doctors would bring.

More hours went by, containing a small lunch break and a couple snacks

for nourishment. After Buffy had already picked the magazine selection

clean of all the interesting articles she could find, and was now

starting on the not-so-boring ones, another doctor dressed in scrubs

walked over to them, identifying himself as Dr. Shafer. A pale tall man,

he looked like he was possibly in his early thirties. When they asked

how Spike was, the doctor smiled in wonder.

"He's pulled through surgery just fine. It's amazing how much damage and

blood loss he sustained--we didn't expect things to go so well. But we

went in, fixed the internal damage and bleeding, and stitched up the

larger gashes and lacerations. Right now he's in ICU. His blood pressure

has gone back up, so that's good. I couldn't have asked for better post-

surgery results, really. He's a fighter, I can tell you that."

Buffy smiled in relief. "He sure is. Can we see him?"

"Not just yet. He's still out of it, and while he's stable right now,

it's not a good idea to have visitors until he's showing more

improvement. If his vitals continue to improve, we'll certainly let you

know." Seeing Buffy's dismayed look, he added, "Well, I guess there's no

reason you can't look in on him, from the window."

Grateful, she thanked him and with Giles trailing behind, she followed

the doctor to the ICU section.

This area of the wing was strangely quiet, with the waiting room outside

the area rather than inside. Giles waited there while Buffy signed in as

a visitor, and the doctor led her over to the room.

Unlike most hospital rooms, the ones in the ICU had large windows so the

nurses could keep an eye on the patients better. He gestured to the

window, and she swallowed down her panic. There were tubes and equipment

everywhere, nearly blocking her view inside, but she could see a

familiar pale form lying in the bed, hooked up to several different

devices that monitored his progress.

She wanted to go in, to help somehow, but in her mind she knew the only

thing she could do was wait. Buffy watched in fascination as Spike's

chest rose and fell, the monitor keeping tabs on his heartbeat and other

stats. The whole idea of Spike being human was still so new, she could

barely believe it.

Dr. Shafer nudged her, and tipped his head back towards the exit.

Unwillingly, she followed him, signed out of the ICU, and sat in the

waiting room with Giles, anticipating the time when she could be inside

the room, and not just looking in.

****

It was another hour and a half before someone came to tell them more

news, although this time it was Dr. Kingsley. His smile was even more

enthusiastic than before, bordering on awe. Buffy and Giles took that as

good news, and they were right--more right than they could have thought.

"William's being moved out of the ICU. We'll be prepping a room for him

upstairs, so he can have visitors without disturbing the other patients.

I have to say, never in my years of medicine have I seen such a fast

recovery. It's...well, I don't use this term lightly, but that's what

this is. It's a miracle, plain and simple."

"You're serious?" Buffy replied, more than a bit puzzled. "I mean, he's

healing that fast?"

Kingsley shook in head in wonder. "It's amazing. I've never seen

anything like it."

Buffy shared a concerned look with Giles. Both of them certainly had,

but it wasn't due to a miracle. She covered the awkwardness with genuine

thanks for everything Kingsley done, and happiness that Spike was going

to be fine, after all. The doctor left believing nothing was amiss, but

Giles and Buffy knew better.

"Giles--what's going on? He's human now, he's not supposed to be healing

this fast," Buffy asked in a hushed voice, mindful of the other people

in the ICU's waiting room.

"I don't know. Maybe--maybe it's just a gift from the Powers That Be, a

one time occurrence."

Buffy doubted that. "They wouldn't accelerate his healing to the point

of obvious supernatural help. It's like he's healing like I would. But

that's impossible...isn't it?"

Giles stared at the floor in thought. "Maybe the demon in him never

left. Just because he's turned human again and has a soul--it doesn't

mean that the demon would leave, necessarily. If it's still there, then

it would explain the unnatural healing. He wouldn't have to drink blood

because he's alive, but he might still be physically strong, like he was

before."

"Does that mean he could still be under the thrall of the demon? Is he a

danger to others?" Buffy fought to keep her tone quiet.

"Let's not jump to conclusions. When we get the chance to talk to him,

we'll know more about what's going on."

Buffy sat there for a long while, deep in thought. Disturbing ideas

started to coalesce in her mind, questions and doubts she'd always had

were beginning to form an unsettling picture.

"Giles," she asked in a small voice, "if the demon theory is true...what

does that say about where my powers come from? I have the same strength

and ability to heal as the vampires do, and I told you about how I

started hunting, but it's more than just that. Maybe I end up attracting

vampires because our source of power comes from the same place."

"No, that's not in the texts. It's the spirit of the Slayer--"

"But what *is* that, Giles?" She glanced around the room, then said,

"I'm afraid to look inside myself and see what's there, but I have to

know...if there's some kind of demon in me."

Giles stared at her in horror, not even willing to imagine it. "You

can't think that, Buffy. You are a 20 year-old young woman, who was

chosen by some means that most of us can barely fathom. The Powers That

Be are benevolent, and they wouldn't allow the Slayer's power to come

from what they fight against."

"But when you're in a war, you use your enemy's weapons against them. If

it meant using it...or patterning the spirit on the sort of demon

inhabiting a vampire, then it's not too different, in the end. Is it?"

Giles continued to disbelieve, but his own doubts were starting to worm

their way in. "Well, we'll know more when Spike is awake. Don't think

about it until then, all right?"

Buffy nodded, but despite the promise, she could think of nothing else.

****

They had dinner at the hospital cafeteria, then Buffy called Dawn and

updated her on Spike's condition, which instantly cheered her up. She

immediately wanted to come back to the hospital, but Buffy told her to

wait until morning, at least--the visiting hours were only until eight

o'clock. Her little sister didn't like it, but it made enough sense that

she didn't argue.

A nurse came over to tell them where Spike's room was and let them know

they could only stay for five minutes. When they got there, he was still

unconscious, but that wasn't unusual. Buffy remembered from prior

experience that the anesthetic took a while to wear off.

There weren't as many machines this time, but he still looked pale.

Giles frowned when he saw Spike lying in the bed, as if he didn't truly

expect to find the former vampire there. Buffy walked to the near side

of the bed and rested her hand on top of his, the skin cool to the

touch, but not cold. She wrapped her hand around his as best as she

could, as if hoping her warmth would help him recover faster, if only by

a little.

She was about to pull her hand away, to find a chair to sit in, when she

felt his fingers tighten around hers. Buffy watched him slowly awaken,

and his eyes opened at last on his surroundings, then fell on her.

"Hey, Slayer," Spike said quietly, his throat too dry to speak much

louder.

"Hey, yourself. How you feeling?" Buffy asked..

"M'not dead. Don't feel much pain." He swallowed, trying to regain his

voice. "Must be getting what they call the good stuff."

"Which is why it's so good. Water?"

"Yes, please," he asked, and Buffy noticed a more proper edge to his

accent, the rough and tumble element not quite so obvious. He gulped

down a glass of water Buffy poured for him, and managed to get down

another before she urged him to lie back down.

"You're probably dehydrated from the burns, but I don't want you

drinking too much too fast. Don't want any Nurse Nazis on my case," she

smiled.

"S'okay. I'm in a hospital bed...guess this means I'm not dying?" He was

somewhat disoriented, looking around at the wires and tubes sticking

from him.

"Far from. The doctors say they've never seen such a fast recovery."

He gave her and Giles a concerned look, picking up on their sudden

uneasiness. "I take it that's not a usual thing, right?"

Giles cleared his throat. "Maybe you can answer this question for us. Do

you feel any different than before? Weaker, physically?"

Spike frowned in thought, then tried flexing his arm experimentally.

"Now that you mention it...no, not really. A little out of it thanks to

the painkillers and all, but I don't feel that different. Well, aside

from the being alive part, of course." He looked at Giles in sudden

comprehension. "Wait a minute. Do you think--"

"That's precisely what we want to make sure of, before there's any

unpleasantries. If the demon is still there inside you, we ought to be

sure that it won't be able to take over."

Spike leaned back into the pillows, stunned at the turn of events. He

didn't expect to be alive, let alone...this. "Yeah, I can still feel it.

I remember the instinct, the hunger, the violence. But there's another

part of me that's got an equal say in the matter."

"It's the soul," Buffy commented softly, her eyes fixed on the window,

viewing the growing darkness outside. "I guess having a soul back didn't

evict the demon, but it prevents the darkness from taking over. It's

going to be a choice you'll have to make."

"And the choosing part isn't as easy as it looks," Spike finished the

thought. Buffy turned to look at him, agreeing in spite of herself.

Their eyes locked, and they both had the sensation that a bridge had

formed between them, something built from shared experience. Giles

shuffled a bit, more than able to tell that something was happening

between the two former enemies, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out

what it was.

The nurse came in just then, to let them know that the five minutes were

up. She wasn't surprised to find Spike awake, but she was taken aback at

how strong he seemed. As she went to go get the doctor, Buffy took the

opportunity to walk back over to his side.

"I'll be back tomorrow. And don't tease the nurses," she said, half-

serious.

He merely smiled with mock-innocence and answered, "Wherever did you get

that idea, Summers?"

"*What* am I going to do with you?" She replied in false exasperation,

then impetuously kissed him on the forehead and left, leaving a stunned

Giles and a bemused Spike in her wake.

****

The next morning dawned clear but cold, though the sun helped warm

things up once it lifted high enough to make a difference. Before Dawn

woke up, Buffy headed out to the cemetery to Spike's crypt.

The medics had cut his jeans off of him, so Spike didn't have any

clothes to leave the hospital in. With luck, she'd be able to find

something for him to wear, maybe even the clothes he'd worn during his

last botched attempts at trying to appear normal.

When she walked inside, the amount of damage to the place took her

breath away. Spike hadn't gone without a fight; the broken furniture,

cracked masonry and destroyed knick-knacks attested to that. A cardboard

box was off to the side, and a quick peek inside revealed the contents

of the shrine she'd found only a few days ago. Had he planned to do

something with that? Or had he finally given up hope?

The contents helped her hit on where his clothes might be, and she

headed to the back and pushed the stone slab aside, revealing a familiar

space underneath. Pushing aside bad memories, she headed down the ladder

and looked around, hoping for a clue. No leftovers of the shrine, for

which she was thankful, but everything else was the same.

She found a stash of clothes in a chest off to one side, and picked out

what looked the cleanest and least wrinkled--a grey long-sleeved shirt

and a pair of dark taupe slacks, along with a brown leather jacket.

Shoes were next to the chest, and a quick hunt through found her a pair

of socks that matched. Buffy didn't analyze why she was going to all

this trouble, since that would involve a round of Deep Thinking she

wasn't up to. Especially since she had kissed him on the forehead like

that, another place she didn't want to go. It was best not to dwell on

it.

Dawn was waiting for her when she got back, and eyed the clothes with a

curiosity that made Buffy a little nervous. "It's for Spike. He's going

to need clothes in order to leave the hospital, and I went to his place

to get some. That's all."

"What'd you bring?" Dawn asked, ignoring what Buffy had said. "Ooh, the

grey shirt. I liked that one. Guess you did too, huh?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Did you eat breakfast?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's go," Buffy answered, and yanked her sister towards the door, and

to the car in the driveway.

****

The nurses smiled in recognition when Buffy entered, some Dawn

recognized from...before, and some she knew from her short stay

yesterday. She tried to get Buffy to go into the gift shop, since they

couldn't visit Spike empty-handed, but Buffy gave her a stern 'no'.

"Not even a little teddy bear?" Dawn moped.

Buffy frowned at the suggestion. "I don't think he'd like that sort of

thing. Besides, they might let him out soon, if he's still healing

pretty fast. And we have clothes for him, so we're not empty-handed."

Dawn let the subject die, and soon they were standing outside Spike's

room. For some reason, Buffy wasn't opening the door. "C'mon, Buffy.

It's not like he's going to open it himself."

"I--I know. I just want to...admire the nice wood-grain. Isn't it nice?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Sure, it's great. Let's move on," and she turned

the handle on the door before her older sister could say another word.

Thanks to a southern exposure, the sun was streaming into the room,

cheering the cold look of the room immensely. Spike was already awake

and sitting up in bed, watching TV. He started as they came in, clearly

not expecting to see visitors so soon. Or maybe at all.

"Hey, little bit," he said, trying on a tentative smile. "You came to

see me?"

Dawn smiled back, with some amount of guilt. "Yeah, I had to come. To

thank you, and everything...I mean, you saved my life yesterday. I

wanted to stay but Buffy wouldn't let me, and I was so worried that you

would die and then...I'd never get to tell you how sorry I am."

She looked down at her shoes, summoning up the courage, then looked him

straight in the eye. "I treated you like garbage at the Magic Box,

because everyone said you were just using me. But I know now that you

weren't, and I just want to apologize for all of that."

He blinked. "Well, that's--uh, it's okay. No hard feelings. I'm just

glad you're all right." He looked at her, suddenly uncertain. "You are,

aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah! I'm fine. Hey, you know...that blue gown really brings out

your eyes. Buffy, did you notice that?"

Buffy jumped, as if caught. "Huh? Oh, uh, no...I wasn't noticing that.

Wasn't noticing anything, really."

Spike's attention focused on Buffy now, his expression having a hint of

amusement and curiosity. "Penny for your thoughts, love?"

"Ah, I was...not really thinking of anything, really. We brought you

clothes," Buffy held them out, proving the point.

Dawn added, "Yeah, she went and got them from your place, picked them

out and everyth--ow!" She rubbed a sudden sore spot on her shoulder,

where Buffy had slugged her. "What?"

"Sorry, thought it was a bug." That was Buffy's old code phrase for,

'keep your mouth shut, stupid!'.

Sullenly, Dawn looked back to Spike, who still had his eyes on Buffy. In

a flash of insight, Dawn understood what was going on; she'd seen it

several times already in middle school. Buffy *liked* Spike--and she

didn't want him to know it.

But Dawn wasn't stupid...she could tell Spike already knew. He was good

at that sort of thing, figuring out what people were all about. Sensing

an imminent moment at hand, she decided to make herself scarce.

"I gotta go...check out the gift shop and see if there's anything cute I

can buy. I'll be back." And with that, she waved and skipped a hasty

retreat out of the room.

****

"Well, that was a little...odd," Spike replied, watching her leave.

Buffy shrugged, but inside she was panicking. That punch was for her to

keep quiet, not leave!

"Yeah, but she was eyeing the shop as we came in," she covered. "So, how

you do feel?"

He flicked off the TV. "Better. And you? The leg still bothering you?"

"A little. Just when I walk on it."

Spike moved over and patted the side of the bed, "Have a seat, then."

Buffy hesitated, then put the clothes on the tray table next to the bed

and sat down, taking note of the warmth of his body beside hers. It

was...nice. "Did the doctors tell you when you could be released?"

"Well, they're threatening to do tests on me, just to find out how I'm

healing so quick, but they say I can leave as long as there's someone

who'll watch over me and what all. I'll have to come back and have the

stitches taken out, but they tell me it's like I've done a week's worth

of healing already. Considering the paperwork grief I've given them,

they won't be sad to see me leave."

"Paperwork grief?"

He smiled. "Oh, yeah--no identification, no medical history, no

insurance. Nothing to prove I exist. I told 'em I lost all my papers in

a mugging, then got tortured and then ended up in the hospital. I gave

them my last name, just so they could write *something* down, at least."

Buffy cocked her head to the side, intensely curious. "And what *is*

your last name?"

"Cotswold--not that it means much these days, with all the numbers and

pieces of paper that you've got to have to prove who you are." His eyes

took on a faraway look, then he exclaimed, "Ah, damn!"

"What?"

"I just realized...I'm gonna have to stop smoking, aren't I? Lung

cancer, and all that?" He sighed bitterly. "And I just got a new pack of

smokes, too."

"Any other regrets?" Buffy asked, meaning it to sound light-hearted, but

failing miserably.

He gave her a heart-felt look. "If you mean do I miss being a

vampire...no, I don't. I thought I would, but I can't say I don't like

being alive, now that I'm here. And if it means that...that I can be a

part of...things, then it was worth any price."

"You mean that?" Her tone was dead serious.

Spike replied in the same way. "Yeah, I do. I know you've still got hard

feelings about the past--and you've got a right to be--but I want to

leave those memories behind, buried and forgotten. And if you think it's

possible, I'd like to have a second chance."

Buffy mulled this over, not sure whether he was talking about his

feelings for her, or something more ambitious. Not knowing which one

gave her the most trepidation, she then asked, "Do you feel the weight

of the soul? You don't seem very...I don't know, upset?"

He swallowed, and looked down at the bedsheets. "I can feel it. The

guilt and misery are...staggering. I don't think I could ever atone for

what I've done. I feel like I could weep for ages," he took a deep,

unsteady breath and continued, "but if I dwell on that all the time,

I'll be a useless lump of self-loathing and despair. It wouldn't be

fair, or right, knowing what a chance I've gotten."

Buffy was amazed, and a bit mollified at the same time. The man she was

looking at--and he was a man, now, she reminded herself--wasn't the same

person she'd once known. There were still the affectations of the old

Spike, and she could see that inner darkness within him, just as she

could sense her own, but there was a soul, now. He wasn't Spike anymore,

not really.

It was a scary, exhilarating thought. Was he William, then? A hybrid of

the two? Or a completely different person? A tiny part of her felt

wistful over the 'death' of Spike, but her curiosity over this new turn

of events won out in the end. Whoever he was now, she wanted to get to

know him better...and that could happen only if she allowed it.

"You're right--you've been given a gift, a miracle," Buffy replied. "You

can't waste it. Do you, um, know what you're doing to do, now? With this

second chance?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Not sure, yet. I was trying to decide

whether staying here is something I ought to do. Maybe I could help the

gang out, with the slaying and everything. Do you think they'd like

that?"

"I don't see why not. It would be very helpful. And I--uh, someone--

could help you find a place to live, or work. We could all pitch in."

"A team effort?" He asked, a slight smile on his face. "Or would

personal attention be involved?"

She was saved from the question by the door opening, letting in Willow

and Tara. The two witches were almost as surprised to see her as Buffy

was to see them, but Willow's smile only faltered a little. "Hey, how's

the English patient?"

"Alive and mostly well," Buffy answered. "And you brought something!"

she said, noticing a small and flat wrapped box in Tara's hands.

"Well, it's a kind of combination 'get well and body-warming' present,

since Spike is now among the living, in more ways than one," Willow

replied, while Tara handed him the present.

"I don't know what to say," Spike said, holding the gift as if might

break.

"Open it," Willow urged, and he did so, tearing the paper off and

lifting off the top of the box.

"It's a wallet," Spike said, confused. "Well, it's uh, very nice."

"See, now that you're human, you'll need one of these for holding money,

credit cards, pictures, and so on. And it's made out of black leather,

which Tara picked out."

Spike smiled at that, now heartily amused. "Very practical of you,

Willow. Once I have something to put in it, it'll definitely...be put in

there."

Willow beamed. "I knew you'd like it! And I see Buffy brought you

clothes and shoes, so you're all set to leave. Not that you have to

leave now, or anything," she corrected quickly.

"I know what you meant, Willow. But thanks for the clarification," he

added dryly, then his face softened. "And thank you both for the gift.

It wasn't necessary."

Willow glanced at Buffy uncertainly, not sure how to take the unusual

politeness, then replied with firm reassurance, "You're welcome, Spike."

****

That he'd gotten a gift from Willow was surprising enough, since he

hadn't expected her--or anyone, really--to show up. What the red-headed

girl said next was as equally amazing. "I want to say that what you did

yesterday took a lot of courage. You could've just walked away, but you

didn't--you saved Dawn's life, and possibly the world, by doing

something that meant almost certain death. I didn't think you were

capable of doing something like that, but you did....So anyway, what I'm

trying to say is, I'm sorry about jumping to conclusions and thinking

the worst of you. And I hope that you can continue to help us out, even

if you can't fight demons anymore."

Spike looked quickly to Buffy, who appeared to be caught flat-footed.

Willow noticed the exchange and glanced at both of them hesitantly.

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, Willow," Buffy answered, "but we think that Spike might still be

able to fight like before. He's healed incredibly fast, and he doesn't

feel any weaker, but he's human and he has a soul."

"So, what does this mean?" Tara asked, holding her arms tightly around

her.

"We don't know," Spike replied this time. "The best theory is that the

demon is still inside of me, but controlled more or less by the soul. I

still have some of the old abilities, but not all of them."

"Can you still change your face, a-and get all bumpy?" Willow piped up,

a bit nervous. Spike's face fell--he hadn't thought to test that out.

What did it mean, if he could still change? Buffy was watching him in

concern, but it wasn't in fear of their safety.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, remembering the way and trying to

make the transformation occur, but after several seconds he gave up.

"Did--did anything happen?"

"Not a thing," Buffy replied, the relief in her voice evident. "And you

tried? Really tried?"

"As bloody hard as I could, without popping a vessel."

The door opened again, and now Xander and Anya came in. Both were taken

aback at the number of people in the room, but Anya was the first to

speak, "Wow. Guess all of you came to apologize too, huh?"

"Anya, quiet, please," Xander pleaded, avoiding Spike's gaze. "Maybe we

should visit later..."

"No, come in, sit a spell," Spike waved them in, partly enjoying the

sight of Xander looking so horribly uncomfortable. Another part of him

felt guilty for feeling that way. And yet another part said his prior

teasing of Xander had been out of affection for the boy, but even with a

soul, he wasn't about to go that far.

Anya walked over to his side, posture composed in a suitable humble

manner, and said, "We're sorry you got hurt, and glad that you're better

and that you have a soul now. So, this means staking you isn't an option

anymore, right?" Spike nodded, her demeanor not offensive to him in the

slightest--the change from demon to human was pretty disorienting. She

smiled and nodded back, obviously pleased with herself.

"Good. Just wanted to get that straight." And she moved out of the way,

so Xander--being pushed forward by Willow--could stand in her spot.

Neither Spike nor Xander were happy about it, and it showed. Spike

remembered the gentility of his previous human years, though, and put it

to use in a sincere admission. "Before you say whatever it is you wanted

to say, let me tell you this. I'm sorry about how I treated you before.

It wasn't right. I'm not going to excuse it, either, because I'm

responsible for what I've done--I know that. And I know you can't

forgive me for what I've done in the past. No one can. I'm not saying I

deserve it, either. But what I hope we can do is set aside our

differences and try to go from this point onward as people who don't

entirely disdain the other's presence."

Xander, totally thrown for a loop, just stared at him for a few seconds,

then cleared his voice and said, "And here I was, coming to apologize

for acting like a jerk. Boy, you really know how to take the wind out of

a person's sails, you know that?" he replied, but with a hint of

respect. "Anyway, I'm cool with the lack of disdain. Maybe we could

work up to mild indifference one day."

"Something to shoot for," Spike mused, wondering now if Giles was about

to burst in and offer to take him in and train him as a Watcher. He

shuddered at the thought, dreading the idea of wearing tweed.

Dawn came in, surprised and delighted to see the gang there. Willow and

Tara stayed only a few minutes more, and they eventually drifted off,

followed closely by Anya and Xander. A lull fell afterwards, and Dawn

looked almost ready to bolt again, but she stayed when a doctor came in

to check on Spike.

"Dr. Shafer, hi," Buffy greeted the tall doctor, who smiled when he

recognized her. "Coming to see the miracle patient?"

"Well, it's more to check on him and see if he's ready to be released.

William, do you have someone to take you home?"

"We're taking him with us," Buffy answered before he could say a word,

and again he found himself watching her, not sure what--or who--he was

seeing. A notion was dancing in his head, but he wouldn't voice it

unless he had better proof.

"Good," the doctor responded. "Looks like everything's healing well. The

main worry is keeping the sutures clean and changing the bandages often.

I'm giving you a prescription for some painkillers, which you can have

filled downstairs if you need them. If you notice an infection, don't

hesitate to get it checked out so we can start you on a course of

antibiotics. And make sure to rest--don't lift heavy objects and don't

try to overextend yourself. Let others help you," he gave a pointed

glance to Buffy, and she froze for a moment, then softened. Yes, this

was definitely something.

Spike nodded and took the prescription, unable to decipher the scribbled

note. He squinted at the small type along the bottom, and realized that

he'd probably need to get another kind of prescription somewhere down

the road--such was the curse of being far-sighted.

The doctor left to get the release forms ready down at the main desk,

and Buffy quickly took the prescription from him and put it into her

purse. When he gave her a questioning look, she threw one back that told

him he ought to know better. Then he realized--of course. If he was in

pain so badly that he'd need it, he wouldn't be able to get the

prescription himself.

The nurse came in to disconnect the remaining machines and take out the

IV drip in his arm. Buffy led Dawn out of the room while the nurse

proceeded to check on his bandages, making sure everything was good

before he left the hospital's care.

****

When the nurse left, Buffy peeked in and found Spike standing on the

opposite side of the bed with his back to the door. The gown was

replaced by the pants she'd brought, but he hadn't put the shirt on,

yet.

As if sensing her presence, he turned and saw her. Caught in the act of

spying, she tried to deflect her guilt. "Need some help?"

"Actually...yes," he said ruefully. "I thought it would be easy enough,

but getting this shirt on involves muscles that aren't participating at

the moment."

She closed the door behind her, and walked over to him, taking the grey

shirt from his hand. "Put your arms out", she commanded. He did so, and

she took each hand and carefully pulled the sleeves on, making sure not

to snag on one of the bandages on either arm. With a little more of a

firm touch and some maneuvering, they managed to get it over his head

without too much pain. She gently pulled the close-fitting shirt the

rest of the way down, again wary of snagging one of the many bandages on

his chest and back.

The effort put her within the circle of his arms, and her face burned in

embarrassment as she realized the position they were in, the closest

they'd ever been physically, without fighting. She hastily finished the

job, more aware of his nearness than she ought to be. He gazed down at

her with a mixture of longing and gratitude, and his mouth opened as if

to say something, but then it closed, silent. After a moment, he finally

said, "Thank you".

It was simply said, but the raw tone to his voice caused a small shudder

down her spine. She tried to look away, but his gaze pinned her there,

unable to move away. "You're welcome," she responded at last, her voice

sounding weak in her ears.

His countenance changed, the uncertainty shifting into a self-confidence

that was an echo of his former self. It had been one of his more

attractive traits, when it hadn't denigraded into smugness, but there

wasn't a trace of anything unbecoming in him now. She felt his hand on

her cheek, the same as the day before, but she didn't have a second to

copy her own response--his eyes dropped down to her mouth, a split

second warning before she felt his lips on hers, possessive yet gentle,

familiar but unknown.

Her body reacted before her mind did, kissing him back while her hands

went around his waist, careful not to brush against any of his still-

healing cuts. After a few seconds of rising passion, her mind kicked in

and starting to throw cold water on the fire. What are you doing? Have

you gone nuts? That's *Spike*, for crying out loud!

Spike must have sensed the change, because he pulled back, watching her

for some sign of what had happened. She looked in his eyes, expecting

the desire she found there, but not the love and adoration in his gaze.

"You--you really love me, don't you?" Buffy asked breathlessly, afraid

to hear it and yet hoping, somewhere down deep, that it hadn't been all

an obsession.

"Yes," he managed to reply, his voice not much better off than hers. "I

love you, Buffy. And you can't deny that you feel something for me--not

now."

She closed her eyes, emotions assailing her and each demanding her full

attention. She tried to focus, tried to find out what she was feeling,

then she heard him say softly, "I didn't want to press my luck again,

but when I saw how you looked at me, and how you acted around me...well,

I'm not blind, pet. Am I wrong?"

He knew he wasn't, but she wouldn't be so easily exposed. "Well, what if

you were? What if I don't feel the same way? I mean, you're still

potentially dangerous, you're...formerly evil, and you--" she paused as

he watched her in growing amusement, trying to form some sort of

defense, "--are driving me crazy!"

"Is that all? A pretty short list, love."

"It's more than that. This is so sudden, which I know is a cliche, but

in this case you can say it's justified," Buffy said wryly, then added,

"I wanted to take some time away from being involved and just be myself,

but then this happens...and now I'm back in the land of the romantically

attached."

"So, what you're saying is, you want to find the real you," Spike

replied, "and that doesn't involve me, or anyone else."

"No, it's just--I'm not saying this right. I wanted to take some time

before finding the next guy, the one that would be right for me, not

just because I was desperate to have someone around. Ideally, we would

figure this out in a month or so--I'd be doing something terribly

mundane, and you would be nagging me about not doing something right,

and then we'd get into a big fight that ends with you kissing me, and me

kissing back, and then...uh, more things happen," she covered quickly,

not quite willing to let him know where her thoughts had gone.

"Right," he looked at her, a bit confused. "You want to continue this

about a month from now?"

She nodded, already forming a plan. "Friendly interaction, but with some

underlying sexual tension, so it isn't completely unexpected."

He smiled now, seeing her point. "Which the rest of the gang will see

and believe. Very devious, Summers...I like it."

"I knew you would. Gives us time to heal, inside and out, and it allows

them time to accept the idea of us, y'know, being like this."

He traced along the edge of her jaw with his fingers, "It's gonna be

hard, not being able to kiss you for a month...but if it means having

you in the end, I'd wait for as long as necessary."

"Well, here's a parting gift," she kissed him lightly, which turned into

something very nice, and was moving into seriously dangerous territory

when they both heard the sound of the doorknob turning. They jumped as

far away from each other as they could, but it was only the nurse coming

back, to let them know that everything was ready, and that he could

leave at any time.

Buffy smiled her thanks, and watched as Spike drifted over to the

window, willing himself to enter into the sunlight. He couldn't help

flinching as soon as the rays from the sun hit him, but when nothing

happened, he visibly relaxed. She came over to his side and took in the

view from the window, watching the world go by. When he spoke, it cut

through the silence like a knife through water.

"This is a great feeling, the warmth of sunshine on your skin--I forgot

how much I missed it." He sighed, looked at her affectionately, then

turned back to the window. "I can't wait to watch the sunrise tomorrow."

"The sunsets are even better, especially at the beach. I'll take you

there someday soon."

"Before the month passes?"

"Sure. No reason I can't...it's a friendly thing to do." How friendly it

might get, she was willing to lend to fate.

He nodded thoughtfully. "It is at that. Let's go...Dawn's probably bored

to tears from waiting."

Buffy agreed, and after gathering all their belongings, they left the

hospital room behind, both of them feeling one chapter of their lives

was closing, while another was just beginning.

End.