Chapter 87 - Recoveries

Despite waking up occasionally, Buffy remained mostly out of it on Thursday. She opened her eyes a few times, and said ‘Hi, Mom,’ once, but that was it. Joyce stayed the night again, though Spike could tell that she never really went to sleep in the chairs outside Buffy’s room. At dawn, she left, informing him that she had to get a few good hours.

Buffy woke up again that morning.

“Spike…”

“I’m here, pet.” He shifted the chair, leaning in closer.

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

“Have to tell you,” she said.

He smiled, stroking her hand. “You just did.”

“Mm.” She closed her eyes again. “I don’t feel good.”

“Perfectly understandable.”

“I saved you,” she said drowsily.

“That you did.”

“I love you,” she said again. “It’s not a secret.”

Spike got the impression that Buffy wasn’t all there yet. But he nodded. “Love you, too, Buffy.”

She was awake, but out of it, for most of the morning. She ‘talked’ with Joyce once, and had some juice for lunch. It wasn’t until after a nap in the afternoon that she seemed to be together.

“Hey,” she said weakly.

“Hey.” Spike touched her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Really tired.” She frowned. “What day is it?”

“Friday.” He paused. “The thirteenth.”

Buffy almost laughed. “Figures. So…nearly two days.” She closed her eyes like she was trying to remember. “We won, didn’t we?”

“We did.”

“I killed him. And then I fell. Drusilla…”

“The Watcher got her.”

“Oh.” She was silent. “How’s your leg?”

“All healed up.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Buffy pouted weakly. “That’s not fair. I wish I had a magic thingy.”

“Yeah, well, then we would’ve had someone tryin’ to cut your leg off.” He paused and then squarely met her eyes. “Thanks, by the way.”

“It was nothing,” she said. “I save you—you save me. Right?”

“Right.”

Spike squeezed her hand. For a moment, it was silent.

“What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that? Alive, here.”

“I hate you being hurt like this.”

“No,” Buffy said, shaking her head. “I’d rather have this than have you not be here. He was going to kill you. I did what I had to do.”

“But it should never be you instead of me.”

“It wasn’t. I saved you. And then you saved me.”

He shook his head. “If we hadn’t had the car—” Spike broke off.

“Hey, it doesn’t matter. We made it. Both of us. It was close, but we made it,” she said firmly. “And that’s that.”

-----

Buffy’s bandages were changed shortly afterward. It was the first time that she’d really been awake while it was done. She fixated on the ceiling, obviously not wanting to look down. Spike watched clinically, more or less unbothered. He’d seen worse. Hell, he’d done worse. And while he didn’t like the fact that she had a four-inch gash on her, he was no longer distressed enough not to see how things were coming along.

“That’s…interesting,” the doctor finally said.

“What? What is it?” Buffy asked, clearly worried, but still looking up.

“Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you. The opposite, really. It’s remarkable progress for just under forty-eight hours. Quite extraordinary.”

“Oh. Well, good.”

“You should be out of here in no time at this rate,” he said, flipping the chart shut. A moment later, he was speaking to Joyce, who had slipped into the hall while he looked at Buffy’s wound.

Buffy glanced down at her right side, which was now covered once again. “Do you think it’ll scar?”

“Don’t know,” Spike said. “It was deep, but Slayers also heal different.”

“Maybe it won’t be too bad if it does.”

“It’s not the end of the world.”

“Please, this isn’t going to be sexy like your scar. This is going to mess up me wearing bikinis.”

“It had better not.”

She laughed, something it seemed he hadn’t heard in the longest time.

Joyce came back in. “They said they’re moving you to a regular room, Buffy. Apparently you’re healing unusually fast.”

“It’s a perk,” she said.

“I’m glad you get some perks. Only fair, I suppose.” Then the amusement faded from her face. “I just wish the catches weren’t so hard.”

“I can’t help it, Mom. I have to do it.”

“I know,” she said, resigned. “I just don’t think I realized how much I hated it. I wish you had an easier life.”

“I felt like that at first. But I can’t change it, so I deal with it.”

“I suppose I haven’t had to deal with it until now. And I hope I won’t have to deal with it like this again,” she said. “Not for a long time, if ever.”

“Well, that definitely makes two of us.”

“Three,” Spike said.

“He’s a perk, too,” Buffy said.

“Am not.”

“Maybe not a Slayer perk, but unquestionably a Buffy perk.” She nodded decisively.

-----

When Buffy was moved to a new room, her friends were lingering in the hallway to see her as expected. Spike waited until she was settled and then said, “I’m gonna step out for a bit, love.”

She nodded, and he kissed her on the forehead.

Spike caught the Watcher in the hall.

“I’m goin’ up to the mansion. Catch any stragglers.”

“Er, good.”

Spike lowered his voice. “No one should know the Slayer’s in hospital, but if they did, there are ways to get about durin’ the day.”

Giles opened his coat to reveal a stake and holy water. “I won’t be leaving her room.”

He followed the others into Buffy’s room as Spike left.
.
.
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“I understand you were very brave,” Anya said.

Buffy smiled. “I guess.”

“Xander said you were brave, but from what I also understand, he didn’t actually see the fight.”

“She was brave,” Giles said, entering. “I saw the end of it.”

“Hey, Giles.”

“It’s good to see you, Buffy.”

“Though way to make us worry, Buff.”

“Not like it was her idea,” Willow said.

Buffy looked at Willow, trying to place what was different. “You cut your hair,” she said.

“Yeah.” Willow grinned. “Sort of a ‘yay, we survived!’ celebration.” She fingered the wispy ends that fell just above her shoulders. “And look, so did Oz. He’s blond.”

Buffy glanced at Oz. “I like it.”

He nodded. “Blonds have more fun.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “Not feeling the fun right now, myself.”

“Buffy does need her rest,” Joyce spoke up. “I know you’re all glad to see her, but a short visit is probably best for today.”

After thirty minutes or so, everyone began to leave. Buffy couldn’t believe how tired she was from just talking and being awake. She actually did need her rest.

Soon just Giles and her mother were left in the room.

“I’m going to run out and get something to eat,” Joyce said. She gave a small laugh. “I’ve got to have something besides hospital food.”

“It’s okay,” Buffy said.

“You’re sure you don’t mind, honey?”

“Nope, I’m just gonna be sleeping.”

A moment later, her mother was gone.

“You don’t have to stay, Giles,” Buffy said as he settled into the corner chair.

“I do, actually.”

“Why?”

“I certainly don’t want your mother to worry any further, but you can’t be unprotected in a public place in the state you’re in.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing. “Yeah, I guess helpless Slayer is like sitting duck. Where did Spike go? Not that you can’t dust a vamp,” she quickly continued, “but where did he go?”

“To take care of anyone who came back to the mansion.”

-----

There were six vampires in the house when he went in. It was about what he’d expected. As he had said to the Watcher before they’d gone in that night, most of the minions would be out hunting already. Given the short amount of time he and Buffy had been in the mansion fighting, Spike doubted that anyone but the Watcher had actually killed any vampires.

Six inside, and none of them made it out. Spike had brought nothing but a stake, and he’d taken his time. He had gone through the house silently until he’d found them. Then he’d drawn it out and had his fun, enjoying the fight and never finishing it the first chance he got. The two that had tried to escape through the sewers he’d toyed with the longest.

The violence was cathartic. After two days of doing nothing but sitting in a chair, it was exactly what he’d needed.

Although he was wanting to get back to that chair.

But he walked through the house again. It was easy to tell which room had belonged to Angelus. Besides the fact that it was the biggest bedroom and smelled like him, there were a number of papers scattered about—all drawings of Darla.

Drusilla had had a separate bedroom, though they no doubt slept together. But here were her dolls and ribbons and dresses, all neatly organized and waiting for her.

Spike suddenly felt…something. He wasn’t particularly sad—he’d been a breath away from killing her, and would have done so without hesitation. He should have been the one to do it, but he was also oddly relieved that he hadn’t had to. And a part of him still wished he could have sent her on her way somehow. Even if he didn’t want to see her again, the idea that she was out there was one he would have liked.

And he and Dru used to leave possessions in a trail all over the world. Possessions were hardly important to them. Leave it if it didn’t fit in the suitcase, leave it if an angry mob was after you, leave it because you got distracted and never came back.

But she would never leave something behind again.

Spike didn’t mind the thought of her things sitting here forever, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. Someone—human or vampire—would come in eventually, go through them, carelessly casting aside the last of Drusilla’s treasures.

On impulse, Spike decided that he would come back, pack up some things. He’d leave them underground, somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a few dresses and dolls, nothing more.

He probably wouldn’t be able to get rid of anything of Buffy’s when the time came, not the smallest insignificant item.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut—there was a very good chance that he was going to outlive her. He’d always known, of course, that she was human and he was a vampire, but he had never been so forcefully confronted with it. Someday Buffy would die, and he would still be here.

Spike slammed a mental door. It would happen when it happened, and nothing would change it. But he wasn’t going to think about it. Ever.

He needed to get back to the hospital.

He’d do something with Drusilla’s things later. Also, he reflected, it might be fun to burn some of Angelus’.

-----

When Joyce came back, Buffy was sleeping. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Almost since you left,” Giles said.

“Ah.” She sat down in the other chair. “Spike isn’t back?”

“No.” He paused, putting a hand to his head. “They’re not actually married, are they?”

Joyce laughed. “Not that I know of.”

Giles looked at her inquisitively. “But you have no problem with them being together?”

“I suppose I don’t. I want her to be happy. And I don’t want her to be alone with what she has to do.”

“And you know what he is.”

“A vampire.”

“He’s a killer, a murdering demon.”

She was silent, as if collecting her thoughts. “I never asked Buffy, but I assumed he had some sort of past that was less than…ideal.”

“That’s one way of putting it. And it’s a not so distant past,” he said tightly.

“Maybe. But I haven’t seen anything to suggest that it’s not the past.”

“We’re all a product of our experiences. He’s still what he is, regardless of what he is to her.”

“You got somethin’ to say, Watcher?” Spike had appeared in the doorway. “Why don’t you ask me?”

Giles stood. “Perhaps some other time.”

-----

Giles returned to Buffy’s room before he left for the evening. Her mother had already gone home. Buffy was awake again, though she seemed drowsy. She was saying something, and while he couldn’t make out the quiet words, she sounded like she had just woken up.

From the doorway, her shape in the bed was mostly obscured by Spike’s. He was on the left side of her bed, one foot on the floor. The bed was in the upright position, and Spike was halfway lying next to her. His body was turned to her, one of his arms around her shoulders. Her head lolled to the side, and his mouth was inches from her throat as he said something in her ear.

She was weakened and helpless, lying in the arms of a vampire who could snap her like a twig in her current condition. And yet, he wouldn’t.

Suddenly, Spike turned, glaring over his shoulder at Giles. He didn’t speak, but the message was clear. You’re intruding. Get out.

Without a word, Giles turned and left.