The Body – Chapter 2 – Absent Without Leave

Stunned into speechlessness, it took Giles a moment to get his bearings. He stood, facing Dr. Norris, and calmly began to try and reason with her.

“Dr. Norris, I’m quite sure you’re excellent at your job, but you don’t know Ms. Summers. She’s a remarkable young woman, and she tends to have a rather... fast metabolism. She’ll heal from things rather quickly and leave you to wonder how --”

Spike tried to get his attention; however, Giles was too focused on his own emotions to notice.

Dr. Norris looked vaguely amused. “I have read her records, Mr. Giles. She is, indeed, phenomenal. That she was alive at all when her boyfriend brought her in...”

That is not her boyfriend,” Giles spat, stabbing a finger in the vampire’s general direction. “You have no idea how evil that creature is. You must get him out of here and post security around Ms. Summers’ room immediately.”

The doctor’s amusement faded quickly. “Do I need to remind you to keep your voice down? I threatened Spike with sedation earlier, and I have no qualms about doing the same to you.” She looked at him sternly, yet with a little pity. “I know exactly who and what Spike is; after all, he’s a vampire of some renown. As for Ms. Summers being special... I know that from personal experience. She saved my life several months ago during a vampire attack on the hospital’s blood delivery.”

“That was you?” Spike couldn’t contain his surprise. He’d been with Buffy when they broke up the attack on the delivery. Of course he’d nicked a couple of bags for his own use, trying to remind himself he was still evil after all.

“That’s part of the reason you’re still walking around. Otherwise you’d have been a pile of ashy sludge in the showers.” The doctor winked at the outrage that flitted across his face. “Trust me, Spike... you were in no condition to defend yourself when you brought the girl in. And just for the record, she’s the other reason you’re still here.”

Giles fumed, glaring at Spike. “What is it with you that turns women into mindless...”

And with that, Dr. Norris had had enough. “If you finish that sentence, I’ll have you tossed out on your bloody British ass and kept out, Mr. Giles. If it weren’t for Spike, your precious Slayer would already be dead.” She held up a hand to keep him from speaking. “As to the important issue -- Ms. Summers’ condition --”

“When can I see her, Doc?” Spike asked softly, ignoring Giles altogether.

“Not right now. She’s in recovery. She’ll be moved to ICU within the next few hours if she stabilizes. If she survives the night, you might be able to see her for a few minutes in the morning.”

“Lucky for us you won’t be around in the morning, Spike. Nothing like all that sunshine to clear away the pests.” Giles taunted, fully expecting to agitate the vampire into getting himself thrown out of the hospital.

“For the man who saved Ms. Summers from the gang of whatever they were, I’ll provide one very dark doctor’s lounge for the daylight hours. There are also no windows in ICU, so if it’s feasible, he can see her in the morning,” Dr. Norris snapped. “Mind your manners, Mr. Giles.”

She turned to leave the small waiting room. “Gentlemen, I trust I can go check on Ms. Summers without worrying about death or destruction in my absence?” She looked from man to man, assessing the wisdom of leaving them unsupervised. “I’ll be back as soon as I have some news to report.”

As the door closed behind her, Giles fumed, incensed by the doctor’s free and easy treatment of Spike. He was listed as Buffy’s next of kin. He was the Slayer’s Watcher. And how dare that foul beast presume to have a place in her...

Blast! Wasn’t that the kind of thinking that had caused his Slayer to go up against eight... what did he say? ah, yes... eight Ognir demons by herself? Dear lord, the poor girl had never had a chance with those odds. If she died, her blood was on his hands. He’d been the one to finally get Buffy to push the vampire away.

“May God strike me for the words about to fall from my lips, Spike, and you can be fairly sure you’ll never hear them from me again... but thank you for getting Buffy to the hospital.” Giles felt the words fairly stick in his craw, but he forced himself to do this. “Perhaps it’s best to call a truce until we’ve seen Buffy in the morning.”

Spike shrugged. “I’m not the one ‘causin’ trouble, Rupert.”

Again, it grated, but Giles had to admit: “No, indeed, you’re not. I’m afraid I let my worry over Buffy get the better of me.”

Both men slumped back into the hard plastic chairs, neither one looking directly at the other. And there they stayed, stubborn in their patience. Several hours ticked by with no word from Dr. Norris. At last, the silence was oppressive enough to loosen Giles’ tongue.

“I suppose your bloody persistence actually worked in our favor this time,” he offered, realizing he wasn’t exactly being polite. It was, however, far more pleasant than anything he usually said to the vampire.

A sure sign of boredom displayed itself with Spike actually answering back. “Not like I actually listen to you tossers. Should’ve just followed the silly cow from the beginning like I wanted to.” He swung his legs back and forth like a petulant little boy; with a pout adding to the illusion.

Giles gestured to the scrub pants that he wore. “Not your usual attire, Spike. Were you planning on sneaking in to see Buffy?”

“What do you think I looked like after dismemberin’ four Ognir demons, you stupid git? Was covered head to toe in brown blood an’ guts, not to mention what drained from...” The vampire shuddered at the memory of Buffy’s lifeblood soaking into his clothing in amounts large enough to drip from the sodden fabric. “Bad enough that I had to toss the kit and scrub the smell of Slayer from my skin.” He shivered. “First time in my unlife the smell of blood made me sick to my stomach,” he admitted softly. “First and only time.”

From the look on the Watcher’s face, he could feel the next question coming. “If you even come close to voicing the words, old man... I’ll find some way around this chip to kill you. You know how I feel about the Slayer. You won’t admit I do, but you know it even so.”

Giles had the good graces to look embarrassed. Sometimes the Watcher in him precluded any human decency -- and wasn’t that the oddest thought when dealing with a vampire? To wonder how the Slayer of Slayers could resist the lure of so much Slayer’s blood... despite himself, he found it rather remarkable and revolting at the same time.

The question answered itself, if he allowed himself to believe the obvious – if unappealing - answer. Spike had been able to resist for one reason, and one reason only; it was Buffy. Not the Slayer, but the girl, herself. He truly must care for her in his own twisted way.

Again, he lapsed into quietness. The silence grew deeper, and the clock ticking the minutes by on the wall seemed to echoed louder and louder in the little room. And as time passed with no further news forthcoming, both men fell into a light sleep.

They were awakened several hours later with a tap to the shoulder from a grim-faced Dr. Norris. “Time to wake up, gentlemen.”

They sat upright, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “Doc?” Spike asked, groggily. “Buffy, is she...”

“I want you both awake for this.” Dr. Norris shoved her hands in her pockets, waiting for Giles to finish cleaning his sleep-smudged glasses. Once she was sure she had their full attention, she began to speak bluntly:

“The good news, gentlemen, is that Ms. Summers is still with us. The bad news is that we almost lost her several times during the night. She’s had several seizures. If she does pull through by some miracle, there’s almost a certainty of brain damage due to severe head trauma. We’ve repaired the depressed skull fractures to the best of our ability. Again, if she pulls through, we may need to go back in and insert metal plating to protect her brain where the fractures were, since the skull doesn’t regenerate.”

Giles paled as the litany of her injuries went on and on. Under conditions such as these, what would be the Council’s policy? If they were to find out about her condition, would they order the cessation of all extraordinary measures to keep the girl alive without any guarantee that she’d return to fighting form?

The Slayer line no longer ran through Buffy. Whether she lived or died would have no consequences other than leaving the world only temporarily unprotected. Certainly, Faith would quickly be murdered in jail to allow another Slayer to rise. One who would be more malleable to the Council’s whims, no doubt.

Spike recovered from the shock first. “So, can we go an’ see the girl? That’s what we’ve been waitin’ all night for.”

“Only for a minute. And I do mean a minute. Got that?”

When both men nodded, Sue Norris led the way, carefully avoiding the sunlight filtering in from the windows along the corridor to Intensive Care. She opened the door to room 17, unaware of the irony inherent in the number, and stepped out of the way to allow the men entry.

The sight that greeted their eyes stole Giles’ breath and caused Spike to stumble. Buffy lay in the center of her hospital bed, looking woefully tiny and as pale as the sheets she lay on. Blinking lights and beeping machines filled the room, registering everything from heart rate and blood pressure to urinary output. IV bags of saline, antibiotics, pain-killers, and blood hung on a moveable pole, with needles jabbed into several spots in the crook of her left elbow. Her right arm was in a plaster cast from above the elbow to her knuckles; both legs also bore casts from mid-thigh to toes.

The worst invasion of her person was the respirator hose secured in place by strips of white tape over her mouth. Her eyes were swollen shut; bruised and jagged scabs ran down the right side of her face, indicating that she’d been clawed.

Giles felt as if he’d been punched in the guts. His girl could have died... should have died, and it was partly his fault. Spike was no guarantee that Buffy would survive forever, but she’d never been so badly hurt when he’d been out on patrol with her.

Spike’s shock lasted only a moment before he pushed past the Watcher and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, mindful of all Buffy’s wires and tubes. He slid his fingers under her left hand, which was in relatively pristine condition, save for her ragged, torn nails.

“Poor lamb,” he soothed. “You’d have a fit over the state of your manicure.” He stroked his fingers gently over the back of her hand, Spike was careful not to dislodge her heart monitor. “Come back to us, luv. Little sis loves you, and your Watcher ‘ll have nothin’ to do but bury his nose in his books without you. Wake up an’ I promise you the salon nails of your dreams. You can even do mine. Fancy the Big Bad’s in Niblet’s Princess Pink. That ought to wake you up with giggling.”

Giles snapped out of his shock at last, and, alarmed, hissed: “Spike! Get away from her.”

Dr. Norris laid a hand on his shoulder, preventing the older man from pulling Spike away from Buffy. “Spike’s fine where he is, Mr. Giles. He’s not disturbing the wires or tubes, and coma patients have been known to hear people talking even though they’re unable to respond. Familiar voices and physical contact are a good thing.”

Giles passed a weary hand in front of his face. “I-I’m sorry, Dr. Norris. I’m sure Spike has told you we’ve had our differences. She deserves more than him, and it’s not always easy for me to keep my own council, especially when I’m this worried about her.”

She regarded him skeptically. “Is that a fact? Well, you’ll both have to leave in a moment anyway. Ms. Summers needs to rest, I’m sure you have other people to call and Spike... I’m sure he needs to feed and lie down before he passes out. Looks like he’s running on fumes.”

Sure enough, there were purple smudges under the vampire’s eyes, and his hands were shaking. It had been a rough night for everyone involved, and him especially.

The vampire placed a kiss on Buffy’s forehead near her hairline; the only unbruised place he could find, and left the room without another word.

After Giles said his goodbyes, he found the vampire leaning against the wall, wiping furiously at his eyes. “Not a word, Rupert. Not a bleedin’ word from you.” With a sniffle, he turned to the doctor. “You said there was a place I could rest? Then lead the way, Doc.” He laughed grimly. “I’m dead on m’feet.”

The Body – Chapter 3 – Night and Day

Dr. Norris pulled the curtains around Spike’s cot, pinning a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside. It wouldn’t do to have someone attempt to wake him up and find no life signs. Having her guest hauled off to the morgue would not be a good thing.

Spike drifted towards sleep with only the knowledge that Buffy had survived the first night for comfort. Girl was an utter wreck. It wasn’t her battered looks that unnerved him... she could have one eye, no hair and gain thirty pounds and still turn him on. Her looks were just window dressing. What distressed him was the sight of her lying there, paler than any vampire, and still as a corpse. His Buffy was vibrant and full of piss and vinegar... especially when punching him in the nose. Lately though...

He shook his head, wiping away the last of his tears and finally passed out from exhaustion.

Giles looked up from his seat to see Xander, Willow, Tara, and Dawn enter the waiting room, panic evident on every face.

“All right, G-man. We’re here and we’re worried and nobody at the desk will tell us anything at all.” Xander threw his hands in the air. “What the hell’s happened to Buffy?”

Dawn sat down next to Giles and took the man’s hands into hers. “I-is Buffy gonna be okay? Please tell me she’s gonna be okay. Giles... I just lost Mom. I can’t lose Buffy, too.”

“Maybe she lost her Slaying powers,” Willow added. “I mean there’s no way she could have been beaten by a couple of puny vamps or demons.”

“Unless she was ambushed,” ventured Tara. “I-I mean, it’s why she always goes out with back-up. A-an extra set of eyes is always a good thing.”

Giles swallowed hard; the guilt overwhelming him. “Why don’t we see if at least Dawn can get in to see her sister? Intensive Care has very strict visiting rules.”

Halfway to the nursing station they were met by Dr. Norris, who introduced herself as the head of the team of doctors on Buffy’s case. Only Dawn would be allowed to see Buffy for the time being, and the doctor promised to stop by the waiting room before she left to let them know of her condition.

“I can’t tell you not to worry,” she said to Dawn. “Your sister’s condition is very, very grave. However, the very fact that she’s made it through the night is a testament to her strength and gives us all hope for her further recovery.”

As they walked towards room 17, Dawn hesitated. “How did Buffy get to the hospital? I mean, ambulances usually don’t pick up patients in...”

“If you were going to say cemeteries, don’t worry honey. I know about your sister, and Spike brought her in. Thanks to him, she has a chance at surviving.”

Dawn was floored. “You’re telling me you know Buffy’s a-a- and Spike’s a --.”

“Yes, Dawn. I do. Spike and Buffy were responsible for saving my life during a vampire attack not all that long ago. Like I told Spike, not everyone in Sunnydale is blind.”

As they stood in front of Buffy’s room, Dr. Norris tried to prepare the girl for what she would see. “It’s not pretty, Dawn. Buffy was beaten badly and had multiple surgeries last night. Her condition is critical, but stable at the moment. Don’t be afraid of all the machines and their noises. Each one tells us something vital about your sister.”

“I-is she in pain?”

“Buffy is in a coma. She’s also hooked up to IV’s that give her a constant source of pain medication. We believe she’s as comfortable as humanly possible for someone in her condition,” the doctor gentled. “Don’t be afraid to talk to your sister, or touch her where she’s uninjured. We never know exactly what coma patients can hear. Are you ready to see your sister now?”

Dawn took a steadying breath and walked into the room. If Dr. Norris hadn’t been standing right behind her, the shaken girl would have crumpled to the floor as her knees buckled at the sight of her sister. She calmed herself enough to shake off the doctor’s hands, and brought a chair to Buffy’s bedside.

“I-I’m here, Buffy. Giles called and said you’d been hurt, and we all came to see you,” she whispered. “He never told us it was this... Anyway, the doctor said you might be able to hear me, so I’m just gonna talk as long as they let me stay.” Dawn’s voice gained strength the longer she spoke, willing herself to be heard over the sounds of the machines. “I guess it doesn’t seem like it, what with you being so hurt and all, but you’re really lucky you had Spike with you. I told you he cared about you. He got you to the hospital in time to save your life.”

Her fingers were drawn to the same unblemished hand that Spike had held several hours earlier. “Oh, Buffy,” Dawn sobbed, unable to hold back her tears any longer. “You’ve got to get better. I can’t lose you, too. It’s too much. First Mom, and if you... if you... where would I go? Dad doesn’t want me, and...”

A technician’s hand on her shoulder stilled her tears. Dawn kissed her sister’s hand before she ran from the room, headed to the sanctuary of the waiting room and her makeshift family. As she walked down the corridor trying to compose her words to convey her sister’s condition, Dawn heard voices coming from the waiting room.

“You’re telling me that bleached freak had something to do with Buffy’s winding up in the hospital?” Xander was furious. “Giles, I thought we had this taken care of. You told me that Buffy wouldn’t patrol with that... that... thing anymore.”

Giles tried to calm the boy down before the situation got out of hand. “Look, Xander, I said Spike got Buffy to the hospital. He wasn’t patrolling with her, which is why she ended up in such dire straits in the first place.”

“Everyone needs to get this straight because I’m tired of having to justify his actions.” Dr. Norris looked around at the youngsters who had joined Giles. Anger warred with worry on their faces. “Whatever your argument is with Spike, you need to drop it. That vampire saved your friend and Slayer. That’s the bottom line. Trying to keep them apart damn near killed her. Get over it and move on, kids.”

“I-is it t-true, Giles?” Tara asked, looking at her friends over her shoulder. “Are we responsible for Buffy’s getting hurt?”

“We can’t say for sure, Tara... but without Spike to watch her back, Buffy never stood a chance with the demons she encountered last night.”

With a heartrending cry, Dawn stormed into the little room. “M-murderers!” she shrieked. “If Buffy dies it’ll be on your hands. Y-you know Spike helps her patrol. He loves her. No matter what you say about vampires being unable to love, he does. Spike would have kept her safe,” she insisted.

“C’mon, Dawnie. You need to calm down. Getting this upset isn’t going to help Buffy.” Willow led the teenager to a chair and pushed her hair back behind her ears. “We’re all doing the best we can, and it isn’t possible to protect anyone all the time. Even a Slayer.”

With a snort, Dawn pushed the redhead away. “Are you part of this? Are you one of the people who made my sister go out all alone to fight against vampires and demons when she had someone willing to help her?”

No words were necessary; Willow’s guilty look was enough.

Facing Dr. Norris, the teenager asked: “Where is Spike? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s sleeping in the doctors’ lounge. He was exhausted from fighting before he brought your sister in, and from the wait to see her a few hours ago.”

“I knew he wouldn’t just leave her. And... and... h-he’ll be worried about me. I need to see him.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Dawn.” Giles interrupted before Dr. Norris could lead the girl to the lounge. “You still have school. I’m sure your sister would want you to keep up as normal a life as possible while she gets better.”

“You’re sure? You’re sure? Like I’m supposed to believe anything you say?” Dawn burst into tears. “I saw what your being sure did to Buffy. She’s lying in that bed hooked up to a machine that breathes for her. She’s got tubes and wires and needles in her all because you were sure she’d be better off without Spike on patrol.”

Dr. Norris decided enough was enough. “That’s it, folks. Time for everyone to go home. Nobody else will be allowed in ICU today except Buffy’s sister. My shift has ended and I’ll stay with her until Spike wakes up in the doctor’s lounge. Between us, we’ll make sure Dawn gets back home.”

Giles was infuriated once again at the doctor’s seemingly reverential treatment of the vampire, not to mention her sticking her nose in family business. “Now see here, Dr. Norris. You might make the rules here in the hospital, but you have no say over a minor child...”

“You may be listed as Buffy’s next of kin, but you’re not listed as Dawn’s. If she doesn’t want to go with you, she’s perfectly free not to do so.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at her sister’s friends and Watcher, and, feeling utterly betrayed on her behalf, let them know it. “I wouldn’t follow any of you out of a burning building right now,” Dawn spat, and followed Dr. Norris to the lounge.

Spike awoke several hours later, finding Dawn crying silently in the cot next to his. His hesitation in reaching out to comfort the girl was overcome when she flung herself into his arms, sobbing for all she was worth.

Spike accompanied Dawn to see Buffy once more before Dr. Norris took her home. The vampire was relaxed and easy with Buffy, talking to her as he did before. It put Dawn at more at ease than she’d been before as she spoke to her sister again.

“Thanks, Spike,” she murmured as they left the room. “I know it’s bad. Real bad. But she has a chance ‘cause you brought her here.”

“I’d do anythin’ for her, Niblet, and that includes watchin’ out for you. You need to go home and work things out with the Watcher and the rest.”

“But...”

“No ‘buts’ Bit. Bad as it turned out, they meant well. And let’s face it; a vampire’s not fit for raising a kid on his own.”

Giving in to the inevitable, Dawn gave him one last hug, and allowed the good doctor to drive her back home.

Spike realized he was falling hard for the littlest Summers. His girls! He’d do anything to protect them.

Several weeks had passed and the changes in Buffy’s appearance were remarkable. The swelling and bruises are all gone. All that remained on her face to show of her ordeal were the faint pink scars from the Ognir’s claws. Eventually those would vanish, as well.

MRI’s showed that her bones had set properly and re-knit. The casts were removed, making Buffy seem even smaller. Her brainwave patterns hadn’t altered since the initial surgeries. Strong and steady, but she remained comatose.

For three weeks Buffy’s group of visitors was constant. Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara and Dawn were there twice a day without fail. Visits were staggered so there were no problems being allowed to see her. They’d tried to reach her father, without success. He never bothered answering the messages they’d left. There was also no sign of Spike, though even Dawn seemed too preoccupied to notice.

On the one month anniversary of Buffy’s admittance, her respirator was removed. Miraculously, she began to breathe on her own. The hospital staff broke into spontaneous cheers. Moving Buffy down to a private room on a regular floor was the highlight of their day.

By the sixth week, though, Buffy’s hospitalization had begun to take its toll. Xander was the first of the Scoobies to cut back on his visitations. Anya was unhappy that he was spending all of his spare time sitting at the bedside of a woman who wasn’t her; making the argument that he would be notified if she came to and they would both go and visit.

Willow and Tara cut down their visits to once a week. School schedules had picked up again, and the women had to focus on things that were within their power to change.

Giles and Dawn had mended their fences by agreeing to not mention Spike at all. Buffy’s incapacitation has been hardest of all on them. Dawn came every day after school, doing her homework to Buffy’s favorite music played on a portable boom box. Every once in awhile one of Spike’s favorite CD’s would show up: The Ramones, Dead Kennedys... Giles had no clue, but it made Dawn’s face light up. She knew they hadn’t been abandoned.

Buffy’s third month in the hospital found everyone gathered in the waiting room once again for a meeting with Dr. Norris, including Spike. The room was split predictably into two camps: Spike and Dawn on one side, Giles and everybody else on the other.

When the doctor walked into the room, she could sense the hostility building. She knew what she had to say would make it worse, but there was no way around it.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I need your full attention. We have a lot to discuss this evening, and it’s not going to be easy for anyone. I’d appreciate you all holding your personal feuds for another time and place.”

Looking around the room, she noticed Dawn being held in the vampire’s protective embrace. She already feared the worst. Best get this over with as soon as possible.

“You’ve all seen Buffy’s physical appearance improve over the past three months. Her broken bones have healed, her skull has remarkably pieced itself together enough that she doesn’t need metal plating. Her breathing is strong and steady. With a little care and attention, she can spend her remaining time in her own home.”

Dawn was shaken by the news. They were going to send her sister home to die. “There’s no hope for her, is there?” she whispered. “No chance that she’ll come back to me?”

The doctor sat down next to the crying teenager, taking her hands into her own. “I’m sorry, Dawn. Medical science has done all it can for your sister. She could continue in this state for another week, or for years. There’s no way to tell. Either way, the hospital will be unable to keep her. The bed is needed for other patients.”

Giles stood and walked over to the distraught girl. “Perhaps it’s time to consider placing your sister in a hospice, dear. Somewhere she’ll be cared for around the clock until... until...”

“You must be mad, Rupert. You’re talking of putting the Slayer away in a hole somewhere to die out of sight of everyone she ever loved?” Spike stood, shoving the older man backwards and wincing from the chip’s reaction. “If Buffy has to die, she deserves the right to die in her own bed. She’s earned it. Most Slayers don’t get that dignity.”

“Something you should know about, eh, Spike?” Giles said coldly. “You’ve killed two of them yourself. Took them away from their families and loved ones.”

“You right bastard! We’re standin’ here, discussing the life of your Slayer an’ you’re bringin’ up a past I can’t change. I know what I did, and I know what I’m doing now. Two different things, old man. I’m tryin’ my best to work with you. Most important thing to consider is the bit, here. Dawn is her sister. She should have somethin’ to say about where Buffy ends up.”

Xander pushed his way into the argument. “You talk big, Junior. Yeah, Buffy deserves to go home. Oddly enough I agree with you. But nobody is qualified to care for her twenty-four/seven and we can’t afford the private duty nurse.” Turning to Giles, he asked: “Slaying doesn’t have an insurance policy to cover terminal care, does it G-man?”

Dawn’s gasp caught everyone’s attention.

“God, Xander, can’t you have a little more tact?” Willow chided. “Dawn is sitting right there and you’re talking about her sister like she’s a problem.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, really.” Anya had her own solution, and for a change, she wasn’t going to keep quiet. “Spike’s so interested in letting Buffy go home, why doesn’t he take care of her?”

“Ahn!” Xander yelped. “Are you insane? Letting that... pervert touch Buffy all over, and bathe her and deal with personal fluids and everything?”

“I don’t see why not,” she sniffed. “And you’ve given way too much thought to Buffy’s personal needs. Were you planning on doing it yourself?”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Dawn stomped her foot on the floor, trying to get everyone’s attention. “You’re all talking about Buffy like she’s a burden... nothing more than a body to be turned and washed and wiped down. She’s my sister! I love her more than anyone. She’s all I have left of my family and I want her home. With me!”

Not caring about anyone else in the room, Spike drew the girl into his arms. “It’ll be all right, Niblet. I promise. I’m sure I can talk one of the nurses into helpin’ out. I’ll just turn on the old Spike charm, and they’ll be trippin’ over themselves to take care of big sis.”

“This is ludicrous, Spike,” Giles scoffed. “You’re not capable of taking care of a goldfish, much less the needs of a comatose human. And in a month, when your insane desire to play undead nurse wanes, where will Buffy be?”

Spike threw his hands up in frustration. “I give up on the whole bloody lot of you. I gave my promise to always watch her back, and will do – no matter what. Short of stakin’ me, I’m not leavin’ her side again.”

He stormed out, flanked by Dawn and followed by Dr. Norris.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel a need to go and see Buffy.” Willow hung her head with embarrassment. “I-I haven’t spent nearly as much time with her as I should. If we have to make a decision about her care, I think it should be in her presence.”

Not another word was spoken as they walked down the corridor to the bank of elevators that would take them to Buffy’s floor.

Nobody stopped them as they made their way to her room. All the day shifts were familiar with Buffy’s visitors.

The sight of her in bed from the doorway always hit them hard. With the covers pulled up to her chest, Buffy looked like she was asleep and the urge to shake her gently was hard to restrain. It was when you got up close that the differences began to make themselves known. Buffy’s weight loss was obvious, and her once flawless skin was dry and ashy. Her muscle tone had suffered and her limbs were slack. Her beautiful hair was dull and snarled, despite the evidence that someone had tried to care for it.

It was more than her friends could take. They huddled in the far corner of her room, grateful for the distraction when a technician came in to check the machines monitoring her life signs.

“This girl must have been someone very special,” the tech said, stroking Buffy’s hair gently as she read the LED displays. “I’ve never seen such a devoted boyfriend. All night, every night he stays with her.”

“W-what are you talking about?” demanded Giles. “She has no boyfriend,” he said with wavering conviction and a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Must be a boyfriend, honey. You know, that blond cutie that brought her in? Been here every night since. He’s practically taken over caring for her after visiting hours. William’s the darling of the night shift. He gets really pissy when he feels someone’s falling down on the job of caring for his girl.” The tech finished adjusting the displays and marking down the readouts and left the room, leaving a roomful of stunned people behind in her wake.

“E-every n-night? He’s been here every night?” Willow was flustered that a soulless demon showed more attention to her best friend than she did. “I thought for sure he’d eventually just give up and walk away when she didn’t get better.”

“You mean like you did? And everyone else?” Dawn’s disdain cut through the air like a knife as she walked into her sister’s room. “When Spike cares about someone, he doesn’t abandon them. Not even when things get hard.” With vicious glee, the teenager informed them that Buffy was coming home. Dr. Norris and a few of the nursing staff were going to help settle her sister into a routine.”

“And Spike’s staying, too. Buffy needs him,” was her parting shot, as she headed back to the nurses’ station to make the final arrangements for her sister’s release.

The Body – Chapter 4 – There’s No Place Like Home

Full of teenaged fury and taking advantage of the pity factor, Dawn bullied Xander into making the basement livable for Spike: boarding up the windows, setting up a cot and making some drawer space and clearing the floor as much as possible.

She claimed it was only fair. After all, it was thanks to Spike’s intimate association with the medical staff that made Buffy’s homecoming possible in the first place.

Sue Norris picked out a team of volunteers that would help with Buffy’s transition from the hospital to her home. Deirdre Allen, an exceptional nurse, good with young women, having three teenaged daughters of her own, Lynette Marcus, trained in physical therapy, as well as an advocate for homecare. The last one, Becky Levin, wasn’t a nurse, just a volunteer – a mother who’d recently lost her only daughter to a vampire attack. She jumped at the chance to help Buffy and Dawn.

Becky proved to be an absolute blessing. She shopped once a week with money that miraculously appeared in the Summers’ cookie jar – Joyce’s old mad money hiding place. At the same time, she insisted that Dawn help with the housecleaning and laundry. After all, she wasn’t there to be a maid.

Lynette worked with Spike on Buffy’s personal care. Since she was the only patient, they could finally lavish her with the attention and time that she needed. Soon after arriving home, Buffy was given her first tub bath since her attack, filled with unscented bath oil was used to ease the dryness of her skin. Spike then held her out of the tub so Lynette could wash and condition her hair, using fresh water.

Once she was re-settled into her bed and toweled dry, Lynette began to work on a combination of exercises and skin treatment. Using massage oil, she taught Spike how to work the muscle groups in arms and legs that had begun to atrophy from disuse. It was a painstaking task, but as Spike said, he had nothing but time.

The nurse’s next task was demonstrating the insertion and maintenance of the urinary catheter. Not that Spike was squeamish or unable to seat it properly, but the catheter was going to be the first thing he got rid of once the nursing staff was gone. He’d rather deal with those adult nappies if it wasn’t a health issue.

Also, as might be guessed, Spike also had no trouble finding a vein for the IV feeding tube. He did, however, pay close attention to the most comfortable spots and the schedule for changing sites.

As for Dawn, she was absolutely thrilled to have her sister home. She couldn’t abide the hospital’s stark nature and smells or the caring, but brusque treatment given to Buffy. Home at last, the teenager could talk freely and hug her sister at will.

When Dawn got the weepies, she would run to Deirdre. On her broad shoulders, she ranted and raved about the unfairness of it all. Bemoaned the loss of her mother. Cried over all the harsh words she’d ever said to her sister. Railed about her absentee father and being left alone to fend for herself.

But when she needed comforting, Dawn wound up with Spike. She would pull every single photo album out, and they would sit and pore through them, picture by picture. It brought her security and a sense of family when she told all the stories behind it to her vampire “brother”.

Oh, she knew Spike would prefer to spend his time with Buffy. He could be as single minded as she’d been warned when focused on a goal. Dawn was thrilled and grateful that he chose to take time off from sister duty – that he’d arranged for it whenever one of the volunteer staff was in residence – to make sure Buffy’s little sister was okay.

Dawn liked to think that their time together was good for the vampire, as well. He needed to laugh and joke around as much as she did. The Scoobies were just too somber. They walked into the house as if Buffy had already died. They wore their mourning heavily enough to bow their heads.

Deirdre, Becky, and Lynette all came to the house for a couple of hours each, twice a week. Dr. Norris would stop by on Sundays, spending the entire afternoon, and sharing dinner with them. All in all, the first month found the house on Revello Drive constantly bustling with activity and visitors.

The second month after Buffy’s homecoming told an entirely different tale.

Medical support was pretty much finished. Deirdre needed to spend more time with her family. Lynette assured Spike that he was fully capable of continuing with Buffy’s care alone, and left her personal pager number should he run into an emergency situation.

Pinching his cheek as she left to go home, Lynette gave him a wicked grin. “You know, Spike – anytime you decide to make an honest demon out of yourself, I’ll get you a night shift position as our token vampire phlebotomist.”

He smiled sadly as she left the house for the last time. Dawn was going to miss the motherly presence Deirdre and Lynette provided. He was forced to admit that so would he. Spike had gotten used to being treated as if he were worthwhile, and he certainly wasn’t getting that same consideration from that old gang of Buffy’s.

Dawn’s enthusiasm for life dimmed somewhat after the nursing team left, but armed with reassurances from Spike and the knowledge that she was always welcome to call or visit, she bravely soldiered on.

Xander couldn’t stand being in the same house with Spike and Dawn: watching their hopeful outlook day after day, knowing that Buffy’s condition remained basically unchanged. Anya finally told him that if visiting made him so unhappy, he could either get his information in a five minute conversation or just wait for someone to call him one way or the other in regards to Buffy.

In the end, he took the coward’s way out. Eventually, he stopped the phone calls as well, knowing that he would hear from Dawn when her sister finally passed away.

Giles tended to ignore Spike when he visited, speaking only to Dawn. Nearly five months in a coma and Buffy was holding on to life as tenaciously as she ever had. The Watcher in him was worried that his Slayer would turn into a wizened mass of papery skin and bones, damned near ‘outliving’ them all.

It was too cruel a fate to contemplate for such a vivacious young woman, and the urge to walk into her room and simply smother her was overwhelming. Yet he knew he’d never get past her vampire guard dog, however, and Dawn would never forgive him.

He began to stay at home, promising himself he’d go back to visit… later. Bloody coward that he was, he’d taken to drinking himself into a stupor on a nightly basis.

Willow and Tara still visited twice a week, but the length of their visits had decreased dramatically; from several hours to barely half an hour. Tara would sit with Buffy, burning sweet-smelling herbs to promote healing and restfulness, and Willow would chat with Dawn, making sure the big, bad vampire wasn’t doing anything ‘naughty’ with either of the Summers girls.

Those were the days it took all of Spike’s very limited patience not to eviscerate the redhead, irregardless of the pain it would cost him.

After the witches’ last visit, a visibly upset Dawn asked the vampire to sit with her on the couch. “I-I can’t d-do this anymore, Spike.”

“Can’t do what, pet?” Wary of the emotions rolling off his Niblet, Spike kept his hands to himself, figuring she needed her personal space to get to the crux of what was eating at her.

“I can’t stay in this house anymore,” she whimpered. “Day after day we talk to Buffy – hoping she’ll wake up – hoping she’ll come back to us. Every day she loses another little bit of herself.” Burrowing into Spike’s embrace, the teenager found the strength to tell him what she wanted. “It’s not you. I mean, I don’t want to leave because of you in any way. I just can’t watch her die.”

Spike’s heart broke at the catch in her voice. He should have known this was coming. His girl was just a youngster, after all. So much loss in her short lifetime. There was only one thing he could do for her.

He finally called Angel.

It wasn’t a pleasant call; the elder vampire’s screaming could be heard two houses away through the receiver. To say Angel wasn’t pleased at being kept out of the loop was a massive understatement. In the end, however, he allowed Spike to get to the nuts and bolts of the situation.

And he agreed that Revello Drive wasn’t the best place for Dawn anymore. She needed to start moving on or she would be crushed when Buffy finally died. He wanted to come for her immediately, but Spike insisted that she have a week to settle her affairs in Sunnyhell, and be allowed to cut her ties to people who had all but abandoned her.

Spike listened with half an ear as his grandsire rattled on; the other half of his attention was fixed on Dawn, gauging her reaction to the plans being made on her behalf. She simply nodded her acquiescence.

When the time came, he kept his distance as Dawn said her last goodbyes to Buffy, giving her the respect and privacy to end things as she needed for the time being.

Sitting down on the bed, Dawn picked up her sister’s hand and entwined their fingers, gently. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. I-I’m not st-strong, like you,” she sniffled, wiping her tears away with her other arm. “I want to believe you’re coming back to me so much. Spike is so sure. But… but… I can’t handle it anymore. I need you to get up and yell at me. Call me a brat and tell me you’ll never forgive me for spilling nail polish on a shirt I borrowed without your permission. Anything, Buffy, Anything but the silence,” she begged in vain.

Finally, kissing Buffy on her forehead, Dawn made her peace and left the room.

Spike called the Scoobies and Giles together for the all important tell-all some time after noon.

“Just wanted to let you know that Dawn’s leavin’ for Los Angeles this evenin’,” he said when everyone was seated. “The Poof’s pickin’ her up to stay with him an’ his for awhile. Hopefully she’ll get to see her old man and let him know what’s up with his firstborn.”

Xander barked out a harsh, bitter laugh. “I knew you’d give her up, Fangless. You don’t have the stuff it takes to care for the living…”

Dawn cried out in distress, realizing he wasn’t counting Buffy in amongst the living.

“Nice, Harris,” Spike snarled. “I’m not givin’ her up, you bloody git. I’m givin’ her the space she needs to survive. Unlike you, who’ve already abandoned both Summers girls.”

“Oh, Dawnie,” Willow said softly and reached for the girl’s hand. “If you needed to get away from Spike, you were always welcome to stay with me and Tara. Or Xander would have put you up.”

“You must be reasonable, Spike,” Giles tried. “With Dawn gone to Angel’s care, you’ve no reason to continue with this. It’s time to let Buffy go. Let us move her to a hospice as we’d discussed earlier and you’ll be free.”

For one fleeting moment, Spike closed his eyes and thought of freedom. Freedom for Buffy’s soul only if her body ceased its imitation of life. Freedom for him to… what? That was the question. If she were to die, he’d have no reason to continue his unlife. Effectively neutered by the chip, he would be unwelcome as ever with demons or humans.

Was he keeping Buffy alive under selfish pretenses? Just busywork to make his unlife mean something? No! If he weren’t absolutely sure that she would one day return, he would let her rest in peace. She more than deserved it.

“I’m already free, Watcher,” the vampire said, rousing himself from his thoughts. “I do as I please… mostly. I know the Slay… Buffy’ll be back. I feel it in my bones. You think she’s done for, then get the hell out of here and don’t look back. And that goes for the whole lot of you. I don’t need you, and neither does Buffy.”

“That’s hardly fair, Spike.” Willow was in tears, being held gently by Tara. “We were… are her friends.”

“Fair weather lot if you ask me.” Spike scolded, knowing he was pushing things. He was tired, he was heartsick at losing Dawn to Angel no matter what the reasons, and being polite took too much effort. “Just make with your goodbyes an’ get the bloody hell out of here.”

Dawn mulishly refused to accept any parting hugs or words. Instead, she burrowed closer into Spike’s embrace, storing up his strength and affection for her imminent departure.

Mindful of the IV stand and line, Spike nestled Buffy back onto her bed after her bath, gently toweling her dry.

If he closed his eyes, Spike would see her healthy; his Golden Goddess. Well, at least she was his in his mind. Buffy’s skin was sun kissed and smooth, her breasts high and firm, and her bottom softly rounded. And her hair? Shampoo commercial perfection; softly waved and bouncy.

When he would open them, he’d watch his dream image fade ever so slowly into the reality of Buffy’s condition:

She lay naked on the bed, pale and totally exposed before him. She couldn’t weigh more than eighty-five pounds. Arms and legs were far too thin; no hint of the muscles he’d often been on the receiving end of.

The only good thing that came from Spike’s massages and exercises was her limbs were no longer being drawn up tight. The ligaments were relaxed and Buffy’s body was at ease.

Spike sighed. This was all too familiar to him. He’d watched Drusilla fade away before his eyes for months after Prague. He thought he’d never have to deal with anything more painful than that. How could he know he’d be so wrong?

Knowing time was running short, he rubbed her body down with moisturizer, giving Buffy a perfunctory massage and dressing her in a shift with snaps at the shoulders. No sense in giving Angel a free show. Gently cupping the back of her head, he worked through the knots in her hair, wishing he had more time.

When Angel arrived, Spike sent him up to Buffy’s room without a single word of warning. The cry of pain that rent the air brought him absolutely no pleasure, and he gave his grandsire the dignity of privacy.

The shaken vampire walked slowly down the stairs, several shades paler than normal. He sought out Spike, silently asking if there was anything he could do to make things better for her.

“You’re doin’ the best possible thing, Peaches; taking care of her most precious possession.”

Dawn ran over and hugged Spike around the neck, crying as she murmured her ‘goodbyes’, ‘I’ll miss yous’, and ‘love yous’. Picking up one of her suitcases, she followed Angel out of the door.

Angel returned a few moments later to hand Spike a large manila envelope.

“These the papers we talked about?”

“Everything you asked for. And seeing what the situation is for myself, I might just be inclined to add a few more things to the mix.”

“No need, mate.” Spike clapped the older vampire on the back, herding him towards the door. “Fair warning… if you hurt my girl in any way, I’ll hunt you down and dump your dust in the loo.”

Angel turned before leaving to face his grandchilde. “I assume I don’t have to bother saying the same to you?” The look on Spike’s face was enough to assure him that Buffy was in the best of hands.

The Body – Chapter 5 - Awakening

After Dawn moved out, Spike found himself desolate. His ‘Bit had been his touchstone, the one person he could turn to when he needed a break from the constant care he lavished on Buffy. The one being he could actually help fix – or so he’d thought. With her gone, so too went the laughter, and another little piece of Joyce’s family was gone from Revello Drive. All he had left to hold on to was the firm belief that Buffy would come back. To him.

Becky showed up sporadically. She’d give Spike a hand with the housekeeping, do a little food shopping for things she knew he liked, and cooked the occasional meal. When she came by after dark, Spike took advantage of her generosity and went off on vicious patrols, often coming back covered in blood and dust. Becky never asked any questions.

Sue Norris continued her Sunday visits. Besides Becky, the good doctor was pretty much the only other human contact Spike had outside Buffy, and he grabbed onto her company with both hands. Generous to a fault, each week she brought a cooler filled with nearly outdated blood from the hospital, and all of Buffy’s medical necessities, including adult diapers. Sue had argued a catheter’s merits to make things simpler, but he refused. After her examinations, the doctor could hardly disagree… Buffy didn't know what a bed sore or a rash was. Her skin was smooth and blemish free as a fresh peach.

Buffy’s condition was assessed weekly by Dr. Norris: blood drawn, muscle tone tested, and brainwaves recorded… every bit of it taken back to the hospital for analysis. Yet after seven months, outside of a marked improvement in her physical appearance, Buffy Summers’ general condition remained unchanged.

“I have to tell you, Spike,” said Dr. Norris, after the latest examination, “I’m really impressed with the level and quality of care you’re providing.” She hesitated. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you before you were turned?”

“Human, for one,” Spike quipped, unable to stop himself. The wisecrack earned him a sharp rap to the back of his head.

“Smart ass.”

With a waggle of his eyebrows and a grin that quickly faded, Spike grew serious. “Sorry, pet. Been a while since I’ve had a good chuckle. In answer to your question, I had a couple of years of doctors’ trainin’ at London Hospital before runnin’ into m’bloody end.”

Hearing that, Sue wasn’t overly surprised, considering the skill he’d demonstrated. He seemed to have a natural affinity for caring for the injured, both spiritually and physically.

“Would you mind answering another question for me?” she asked. “For someone whose basic instincts were to tend and heal, how is it that you ended up so… so…”

“Survival, luv,” Spike said grimly. “Plain and simple. In the beginning, anyway. Between Drusilla, Angelus, and Darla, they made sure the last of William Bennett’s kindly impulses were buried under their ‘lessons’.”

Sue reached out, gently gripping the vampire’s shoulder. “It’s all right, you know. I wasn’t judging your actions. Frankly, I’m surprised you managed to survive their ‘tutelage’ to become the compassionate being you are today.”

Spike ducked his head; a shy little smile gracing his lips. “I was a good man, once.”

“And you are a good man, now,” Sue corrected. “Which leads me to ask one final question. I know you’re convinced as to the outcome of Buffy’s coma, and I’ll support you as long as you believe she’ll wake up… but I have to ask if you’ve given any thought as to when enough might be enough. Is there any point where you see yourself deciding to end this vigil?”

A quick ‘never’ almost popped out, but Spike couldn’t force the word past his lips. Was there a point where he’d be willing to concede defeat and just let her rest in peace? Looking up at his friend, he answered as honestly as he could. “Dunno, pet. I just know it’s not time to give up yet.”

Sue nodded and gathered her things. She blew him a kiss as she walked out the door.

Dr. Norris’ words shook Spike more than he cared to think about. Would he ever finally decide that Buffy had been through enough, and wasn’t coming back? If so, how long would it take before he gave up on her recovery?

No… no. It was unthinkable. He wouldn’t give up on her. Ever.

So, given his stubborn nature, he did the one thing a betting man could have staked his life on:

Spike intensified his care.

He began to use a loofah during Buffy’s bath, rubbing vigorously enough to pinken her skin and hopefully awaken the nerve endings. He gave her full body massages several times a day; from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. There wasn’t a centimeter of Buffy that didn’t receive his loving attentions.

Remembering his time spent with Dru after Prague, Spike would sit by the headboard with Buffy pulled up flush against his naked chest – flesh against flesh – and brush her hair for hours at a time. Her scalp was always flushed when he’d finished. That pleased him enough to provoke a smile. Stimulation; that was the name of the game.

Whenever the radio or television weren’t on, Spike would talk to Buffy. Didn’t matter what he was doing, he would describe it in detail.

“Took the vacuum to your rug, Slayer. Your mum would have a fit if I let the dust bunnies breed all wild-like.”

“Gonna set up your bath now, pet. Nice and warm with some of that honey-almond bath stuff you fancy. A little frou-frou for me, but I’ll cope.”

“Here now, wake up and see reason. Aren’t you a little old to be wearing nappies, luv? Not that I don’t admire the view, but I’d love to see you in a nice pair of skintight black leather trousers.”

“C’mon, Buffy. Wake up for me,” he’d urge. “Just a little punch in the nose for old Spike. I’m beginning to think you don’t love me anymore.”

Hour after hour, the litany would go on until even Spike became sick of the sound of his own voice. When that happened, he’d turned on the stereo as loud as he could tolerate it and go about the business of straightening up the Slayer’s room.

One night, listening to a woman with a voice like a wounded angel, he actually began to listen to the words after the first few lines:

“… All I wanted to say was 'I love you and I'm not afraid'
Can you hear me?
Can you feel me in your arms? Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight I'll miss the winter
A world of fragile things
Look for me in the white forest
Hiding in a hollow tree (come find me)
I know you hear me
I can taste it in your tears Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight Closing your eyes to disappear
You pray your dreams will leave you here
But still you wake and know the truth
No one's there Say goodnight
Don't be afraid
Calling me, calling me as you fade to black (Say goodnight...)
Holding my last breath
Safe inside myself
Are all my thoughts of you
Sweet raptured light it ends here tonight

As if under a spell, Spike found himself drawn to Buffy. He sat beside her and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Then he pulled back, half expecting – hoping – for her to awaken with a fluttering of her eyelashes.

Nothing.

He shook his head, calling himself all kinds of fool for believing in fairytale endings. “Sorry, sweetling. Was so sure that… I’d hoped that… doesn’t matter, luv. I’m not going anywhere.”

Following the pattern he’d developed since Dawn left the house, Spike slipped off his clothes, and crawled into bed behind Buffy. He gently turned her on her side, rubbing her shoulder and nuzzling into the nape of her neck as he drifted off to sleep.

In the middle of night, Spike was awoken by the oddest sensation: warm air, wafting across his face. Moving back slowly so as not to jar Buffy, he moved her arm…

And opened his eyes to the prettiest sight he’d seen in eight months: Buffy’s hazel eyes, looking right back at him.

The Body – Chapter 6 – Bring Me To Life

‘Keep your head, Spike, and think this through. When you went to sleep, you spooned up behind the girl. When you opened your eyes, she was facing you. And her eyes were open. Bloody buggering hell, she’d done it… she’d come back.’

He opened his eyes again, and looked at Buffy. Sure enough, she was still staring at him, her eyes holding a faint tinge of amusement. Yet she hadn’t moved again, nor had she spoken a single word. Spike worried… what kind of damage could have gone on in there?

“Buffy, pet… do you know where you are? Do you understand me?” He spoke softly and slowly, scanning for any response to his words.

He could see her trying to gather her thoughts, but she didn’t speak. She barely moved her lips. It was as if she was trying, but couldn’t figure out how.

“Luv, you’ve been sick quite awhile. I’m gonna call your doctor an’ see if we can figure out what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Spike got out of the bed in search of the phone, and heard a short bark of sound from the bed. Buffy’s eyes were wide and she was pointing at him.

It took the vampire a few moments to realize he was parading around without a stitch of clothing. “See somethin’ you like, pet?”

When Buffy rolled her eyes, Spike’s knees buckled and he all but wept. The indefinable something that was Buffy Summers, Californian Girl was still inside the weakened shell of her body. Whether she returned to being the Slayer was something that only time would tell.

He quickly located his jeans and slipped them on, not bothering with anything else. Grabbing the phone off the dresser, he left a three word message with Dr. Norris’ service: “She’s back, Sue.”

Less than an hour had passed when the front door flew open; Sue Norris having used the key Spike had given her months ago. After staring into the eyes of the young woman she’d all but given up on, Sue turned to the grinning vampire and hugged him tightly.

“You son of a syphilitic whore,” she whispered in awe. “You really did know she’d be back, didn’t you?”

Spike said nothing. The joy shining from his eyes, however, spoke volumes.

Shooing the vampire out of the room so she could concentrate, Dr. Norris gave Buffy as thorough an examination as possible in her home, without all the equipment she’d normally have access to. It didn’t matter. The woman was awake and alert… and a tad headstrong, as she ripped the IVs out of her arm despite Sue’s protests to wait.

She might be dangerously underweight and overly weakened, but Buffy was certainly stronger than Dr. Norris at her best.

Unable to wait outside any longer, Spike burst into the room, throwing questions like fastballs:

“How is she?”

“Why can’t she speak?”

“Can she walk?”

“Is she hungry?”

It was the last question that caused Buffy to react. Another grunt and she grabbed at her sheets, attempting to pull them around her. She tried to swing her legs off the bed to sit up, but was unable to do so. Spike was at her side in a flash.

“You hungry, kitten? Would you like me to bring you somethin’ to eat?”

Buffy’s eyes glittered with desire. She was absolutely ravenous.

“Something light, Spike,” Sue warned. “Perhaps just a scrambled egg to see how that sits.”

He was back as soon as possible with a plateful of eggs, the smell clearly intoxicating to Buffy. She followed the plate with her eyes until the vampire sat directly in front of her, fork in hand.

Buffy had a little trouble opening her mouth when she wanted to, but she wasn’t worried. She seemed to know Spike would give her as much time as she needed to get the job done.

She didn’t so much chew as swallow, but the egg slid down her throat with ease. Her stomach didn’t rebel when the first food in eight months hit bottom. In fact, she closed her eyes in ecstasy at the taste treat. Though she managed to work her way through half a plateful, Buffy shook her head regretfully when she’d had enough.

When Buffy was once again reclining against her pillows, Dr. Norris explained her speech problems. “I’d say you were experiencing something known as ‘transient aphasia’, otherwise known as ‘temporary aphasia’. It’s not uncommon after head trauma or coma episodes,” she reassured them. “The degree and length of the aphasia varies with individuals, and I would say that judging the remarkable way you’ve come through your injuries, your can expect this to last anywhere from several hours to several days.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the thought of being handicapped for so long, until she glanced at Spike.

“I know you want to be out there, quippin’ an’ stakin’, bein’ your own self right away, Slayer. It’s not gonna happen,” the vampire said, kindly. “You’ve been gone from us for eight months now, an’ even I figure it’s goin’ t’take some time for you to heal.”

At her pout, Spike laughed. “It’s not like I can feed you full of blood and watch you heal before my eyes. One of the advantages of bein’ a vampire, luv. If you’re in that much of a hurry, I could always turn you…”

The weakest little pop to his nose from Buffy’s fist rocked him like her hardest blow never had. “That’s my girl,” he whispered. “Welcome back, Slayer.”

Dr. Norris stayed for the rest of the afternoon, and well into the night. From what she’d already seen, the doctor knew Buffy would be giving Spike a run for his money. She’d push herself well past what her weakened body could endure, and the last thing Sue wanted was for the vampire to be rewarded for all his troubles with a cranky bitch of a patient.

She must have spoken those last words out loud, because Spike answered with: “And what makes you think Buffy wasn’t always a cranky bitch of a Slayer?”

This time he received a slight kick in the pants for his words.

Spike threw back his head and crowed. “Oh yeah!”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re insane, Spike?” Sue marveled at the glee that possessed Spike every time Buffy struck out at him. “Do you want her to beat on you?”

“Ah, pet, you don’t understand,” he said. “Me an’ the Slayer’ve been beatin’ on each other for years. It’s normal for us. I’ve just spent eight months of my unlife watchin’ the chit do nothin’ but breathe. If she wants to beat on me, she’s got my blessing.”

“I’ll never understand vampires,” Sue muttered. “Nobody should enjoy being beaten.”

Out of his deep respect for the doctor, he tried again, making one final effort to be understood. “It’s like this… you have a young’un who’s a hellion. Makes you miserable with the back talk day after day. One day the bit gets sick and lays a-bed with a fever. Doesn’t sass back, doesn’t run you ragged. By the end of the first week you’re wishin’ for a bit of lip again. S’all I want… the Slayer, back to normal.”

This time, she got it, in all its beautiful simplicity.

A slight noise sounded behind them. Both turned sharply as Buffy tried to make herself understood. “P…” was all she managed to vocalize, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Not getting through to Spike, she turned to Dr. Norris and managed to repeat the sound. “P-p!” her brow wrinkling with the effort of trying to get her needs across.

“Oh!” A switch flipped on in Sue’s head. “You have to pee, Buffy? Do you want me to take you to the bathroom?”

A grateful sigh of relief escaped Buffy’s lips. She knew she was wearing a diaper, but she’d die again before she’d mess herself now that she was awake.

Carrying the featherweight Slayer in her arms, Dr. Norris looked over at Spike. “I’ll tell her,” she mouthed silently, figuring it would be easier hearing the details of her care from the doctor than from the vampire.

When Buffy was returned to her bed, she was dressed in a tank top and a pair of sleep pants, which hung loosely off her overly thin frame. She refused to look at Spike, blushing deeply every time she caught sight of him.

He wasn’t going to let her get away with acting coy. Spike sat on the bed, tilting Buffy’s crimson face up to meet his. “Now look here, Missy,” the vampire began, realizing he was taking the proverbial bull by the horns. “I’ve seen an’ touched every inch of you for months. Nothin’ I can do to change that.”

Buffy began to cry, silently at first, turning into ugly, rasping sobs. She burrowed into the crook of Spike’s neck, and wouldn’t budge for love nor money.

Wrapping his arms gently around her bony shoulders, Spike cooed and shushed, trying to calm her down. “Don’t cry, pet. I-I was good... didn’t play around. Honest,” he swore, close to the breaking point, himself.

Sue Norris laid a hand on Spike’s shoulder. This had to stop before irreparable damage was done to either of them. “Spike,” she coaxed the vampire. “You have to take a break. Go feed, or smoke, or kill something if it’s dark enough outside.” With light shoves, she urged him to get off of the bed. “Don’t come back for several hours. I’ll stay with Buffy, I promise.”

As upset as Buffy was, disentangling her from Spike was tricky business. Being careful of her fragile bones, Sue finally managed to extricate him from her grasp.

“I’ll be back later, Buffy,” he wheezed, tension making him unable to take in enough air to speak clearly. “I-I’ve got to get out of here.” He dropped a kiss to the top of her head, and left without looking back.

Buffy’s anguish was heartbreaking. There was so much she wanted to ask… needed to say… and no way for her to do so. Patience was never her strong suit and not knowing when she’d be able to speak or express herself was making her crazy. The thought that she’d finally driven Spike away again was the final, overwhelming straw. She closed her eyes and slipped back into oblivion.

Sue was relieved when Buffy fell into a deep sleep. It would be the best thing for her right now. That she was anywhere near being in her right mind after an eight month coma was a miracle. Once the aphasia passed, things would be easier for everyone.

When Spike returned to the Summers’ house, he was covered in muck and blood, much like the first time Sue laid eyes on him. His body language was relaxed; as if he’d found his center.

“That must have been a hell of a fight, Spike. You’re looking a bit worse for wear… do you need anything patched up?” Sue knew she was being overly solicitous, but it couldn’t be helped. He brought out the mother in her. Alright, sometimes the naughty, perverse mother in her… but again, that was something she kept to herself.

“Nothin’ a nice hot shower won’t fix, luv. I’m fine,” he said, raising his arms behind his head and stretching his torso until the vertebrae popped. “Ripped up a few things Sunnyhell won’t miss. Felt damned good to be movin’. How’s Buffy?”

“She’s been asleep since you left. I’d say she’s doing just fine.”

Momentary panic flashed across his face. “Are you sure she’s just…”

“Who’s the doctor here, Spike?” she joked, though it fell flat. “Yes, she’s just sleeping. The emotional overload is going wreak havoc with Buffy’s system for awhile, especially until she’s able to communicate. You’ve got to be strong enough to let her rant and rave. Most of what she says or does will be over-reacting. Can you handle that on your own?”

“Whatever she can dish out, I can take,” Spike resigned himself to a few days of sheer hell if that’s how it had to be. “As long as she’s here with me, there’s a chance to work things out, right?”

Sue nodded. “Go shower. I’ll be leaving when you’re done. Spend some time with the girl and see what happens. I’m always just a call away should either of you need me.”

A grateful nod from across the room, and Spike headed for the hottest shower he could stand.

Walking into Buffy’s room, a clean pair of jeans slung low on his hips and his hair a riot of towel dried curls, Spike felt like a new vampire. He’d have to do something nice for Sue… the woman had done much more than taking care of Buffy – she’d taken care of him. Reminded him of Joyce, in a way. Faced with the unbelievable, she just accepted things as they were and coped.

He sat on the edge of the bed and traced the contours of Buffy’s face in the air. Still so bloody beautiful after all she’d been through. How he wished that his biggest battle would be forcing her to eat enough to fatten her up – however, he knew full well that dealing with her friends and Dawn would by far be the more difficult. As soon as she was capable of talking, those phone calls had to be made.

With his head in his hands, trying to make sense of what was to come; he almost missed the soft whisper:

“Spike.”

It was the warmth of her fingers on his cheek that roused him. “Spike,” Buffy repeated, as if she’d been practicing in her sleep.

He smiled, kissing her fingertips. “What is it, pet? Something you want me to get for you?”

She shook her head and repeated: “Spike,” once more, before falling back to sleep.

Sitting in the kitchen Spike drank his blood, wondering who to call first. Should be Dawn, but that meant talking with Angel again… something he was not looking forward to. Then, of course, there was the Watcher. Giles needed… would want to know, which would lead to his calling the others and then everything would spin out of control… his control.

He knew better, of course. Buffy wasn’t his. He may have been the only one not to have given up on her, but she belonged to herself. She wouldn’t cotton to being kept isolated and coddled. So, he’d have to do the right thing, wouldn’t he? He’d call Angel later in the evening, after…

Thud

Spike ran up the stairs to find Buffy sprawled on the floor, inching her way towards the bathroom. Immediately he ran to pick her up, but was stopped in his tracks by her strident cries of: “No! Me!”

Helping would only further humiliate her. So, despite how it hurt him, he stood back and watched her painfully creep like a baby learning to crawl for the first time… her knees moving forward first, then her bottom poking into the air… followed by her arms shuffling forward and her lower half following suit.

A half hour later, despite his best intentions, after listening to her grunt and groan with the pain of hauling herself up onto the toilet with muscles that fought her every step of the way, Spike had had enough. He tore into the bathroom, fully expecting a fight… and was floored by what he saw: Buffy sitting on the toilet, sweat pouring down her face and neck, smiling for all she was worth.

“Me!” she said, proudly.

“Yeah, pet. You certainly did it all by yourself.” He smiled, holding out his arms to her. “You ready for your ride back to bed?”

She smiled, raised her arms and answered: “Done. Ready. Bed,” well and truly pleased to have put a sequence of words together.

As soon as she was safely tucked into bed, Spike knew it was time. “It’s time to let people know you’re back, pet. Little sis, for one. Are you up for this?”

Buffy began to shake. She could barely express herself, and dealing with Spike was hard enough. How would she handle well-meaning friends and Dawn swarming all over her? It had to be done, though. And it was just the phone. She could always disconnect the line if it became too much for her.

She drew a deep breath. “Yes. Call.”

“It’ll be okay, pet,” Spike promised as he placed the call to Los Angeles. “Oi, Peaches… need to speak to Dawn.”

Angel froze. Spike never, ever called and Dawn hadn’t bothered calling home in more than a month. This could only mean… “Is… is it over, Spike? Is she gone?”

“Are you deaf? Just get Dawn to the phone… now!” Waiting for the two sisters to reconnect, Spike’s nerves were making him jittery, as well as Buffy, and the pleasantries would have to wait for later.

“S-spike?” Dawn spoke hesitantly. “Oh God… I’m so sorry I haven’t called you. I-it’s been too hard, and I miss you and…”

“Slow down, Niblet, and hold on to your knickers for a moment,” Spike urged, handing the phone over to Buffy.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy took the receiver into her hands. Deep concentration evident on her face, she held it to her ear and as clearly as she could, said: “Dawnie?”