TITLE: Body and Soul - Part Two - Chapter 2
AUTHOR: Lysia
EMAIL: cricket818uk@wadnitt.fsnet.co.uk
FEEDBACK: Is essential. I can't write without knowing I'm getting it
right and constructive criticism is noted and used.
RATING: 12, for violence.
WARNING: Angst, depression. Light S/A comfort-type romance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of them, but I'll give them back to Joss
when I've finished with them.
SPOILERS: Set sometime after 'Forever'.
ARCHIVING: Here. Anywhere else, just ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sequel to 'The Curse', in which Spike is cursed with a
soul. Here he disappears into a pit of depression and Angel has to
get him out of it.

Chapter 2 - Angel's POV

I'm at the end of my rope here. I've spent days taking care of Spike
when I know I should be focussing all my energy on helping the others
prepare for the inevitable attack by Skull and his gang.

But my Childe is my priority, and I have been doing my very best to
take care of him, no matter how painful it is for me to do that.

On that first day I woke early - no mean task after my disrupted
sleep earlier when I had first discovered Spike's condition - and
walked into his room to find him lying in bed with his eyes wide
open, as if he were fighting sleep. Those eyes were glassy, red-
rimmed and bloodshot, and the look of panic and despair in them
frightened me.

But I couldn't sit and stare at him in shock anymore. The time for
that was over - he needed my help.

I pulled back the covers and took his hands to haul him into a
sitting position. He immediately collapsed against me - too weak to
sit up. He was struggling to keep his eyes open and, when I tried to
make him more comfortable, I realised just how thin he had become.

He looked frighteningly famished - he still does, despite my efforts
to feed him over the past few days. Painfully thin, skin deathly pale
verging on grey, body weakened so much that he cannot even sit
without help.

I wondered how he had deteriorated so rapidly, then remembered that
not only had he not fed since before he was attacked by Skull's
minions, he had also been drained by his insane Childe. There must
hardly have been any blood in his veins at all. How he managed to
fight during the raid on Skull's HQ I have no idea.

Without thinking how I was to go about feeding him in this state, I
left him to fetch blood. I laid him down carefully and headed for the
small kitchen downstairs. When I returned with a cup of pigs' blood I
found him shivering, his starvation making him cold.

My hands were shaking as I set the cup down on the bedside table. It
was the first - and by no means the last - time I had to do this, and
I was scared.

I sat down on the bed next to my trembling and weak Childe and
gathered his fragile-looking body in my arms. I thought he might
break at any moment. He began whimpering as I laid him down on his
back, his head in my lap. I think my moving him must have brought him
back to reality a little bit, and he immediately fought it.

"Spike?" I asked tentatively, wondering if he might wake up if I
called to him now. "Spike, can you hear me?"

He fell silent again, emotion vanishing from his face as he pushed
the world away again and focussed on the ceiling. I reached for the
cup of blood and pulled his jaw down to open his mouth. With
trembling hands, I tipped a small amount of blood into his mouth. 
I had hoped he would swallow on reflex, but he didn't, so I had to
stroke his throat to get him to swallow the life-saving liquid. It
was like trying to feed a corpse.

I managed to force several more mouthfuls down Spike's reluctant
oesophagus before he started struggling. Once more, I hoped a
reaction meant he was coming back to me, but fighting against the
offer of nutrition is not a good sign. He was acting as though I was
trying to feed him poison, not the blood his body requires to stay
functioning.

A few gargled swallows later and he flung his arm up, knocking the
cup away and spilling most of its contents. Panting and wheezing, he
leapt out of my lap and collapsed in the corner, staring at the side
of the bookcase in front of him and hugging his legs to his chest.
The look of agony on his face and his harsh unneeded breath made me
wonder if I'd done the right thing, but once I'd located the near-
empty cup on the floor under the bed he had gone back to how he was
before - silent, blank-faced and staring at a spot in front of him.

"I couldn't just let you starve!" I told him, as if trying to defend
my own actions and justify any distress I had caused him. I don't
know why I bothered - he wasn't about to say anything. "I don't
suppose I can get you to just drink this last bit, could I?"

At his unsurprising lack of response I drained the cup myself and
left his room. Throwing the empty plastic cup onto the floor on my
way downstairs I stormed into the makeshift lounge on the ground
floor of the mansion and flung myself onto the sofa, sitting with my
head in my hands. Then I did something I never thought I would see
myself do.

I cried for my Childe.

~~~~~~~~~~

Things have continued very much like that for days now. I feed him, 
I bathe him and I change his clothes. He's wearing mine now. His own
outfit was wrecked when he was tortured and I couldn't leave him to
salvage his belongings from his crypt. His clothes are blood-stained
and just won't wash clean, so I've started dressing him in my
clothes. They're miles too big for him, I think as I tug one of my 
t-shirts onto him, but it doesn't matter. He never goes anywhere. I
can't even get him to walk unless I give him some reason to, such as
getting away from me when I'm too nice and threaten to bring him back
to the world. I've found that out now. He doesn't seem to like nice
things happening. He prefers the isolation of his own mind.

I step back and admire my handiwork. Spike is now clad in a pair of
my black trousers, clinched around his tiny waist with a belt, and a
baggy blue t-shirt. He looks... deflated, as if someone's let all the
air out of him leaving a pathetic stick-figure and tent-like clothes.

Shaking my head, I ruffle his hair affectionately and try to avoid
staring at his bedraggled form. He must feel so undignified.

The doorbell rings downstairs and I sigh. It seems that my phone
calls are no longer enough for my friends and colleagues and face-to-
face conversation is needed. Before leaving, I stroke Spike's face
gently, tracing one cheekbone with my thumb. I often wonder if he
minds these little gestures of affection - if he thinks I'm treating
him like a child - but he is my boy and I don't know if he listens to
my words.

He flinches away from my hand, staring at the skirting board and
bringing his hand up to protect his face as if I'd slapped him. I
take it as a sign that I have done something he liked. If he likes
something he shies away from it - he's a paradox, my dear boy is. I
leave without a word and head downstairs, crossing the huge main hall
where my lounge is set up. Opening the door I find Buffy, Willow and
Dawn standing on the patio.

"Hey!" Willow announces, giving the decidedly groggy-looking Buffy
standing beside her a quick glance.

Buffy waves silently and Dawn grins at me.

"We took the patient for a little walk to see you," Dawn tells me
with an enthusiasm that clearly isn't contagious to Buffy, who glares
at her little sister, clearly not liking being called 'the patient'.

I grin at Dawn's eagerness and step back to let them in. It will be
nice to have company here, but they can't stay for long. I need to
feed Spike soon.

"So how are things?" Willow asks me as we sit down in the vast lounge.

"Cool house," Dawn observes, looking around.

"Yes it is," Buffy replies, her voice a little rough. "Don't break
anything."

"Okay," I say in response to Willow's question as Dawn examines an
antique vase by the fireplace. "I'm sorry I haven't been around to
help with battle plans, but..."

"That's fine," Willow interrupts, shaking her head to dismiss my
worries and unnecessary apologies. "We don't even know what Skull's
planning yet, and Giles thinks we've got plenty of time because we
dusted a fair few of his gang and he'll want to get his forces built
up again. Giles has been working out a rough strategy with your team,
but I haven't been to many of the meetings anyway, what with taking
care of Buffy."

Buffy smiles and gives Willow a hug. "She was a star," she tells me.

I wish I could have been a star taking care of Spike.

"I guess you've been busy too," Dawn comments, putting an ancient
Greek marble statue down and joining us on the sofa. "I mean, what
with Spike and all..."

Did she read my mind? "Yeah," I mumble, looking down at the floor,
not daring to make eye contact. "Yeah, I have Spike to look after."

"How is he?" Dawn asks, the bubbly teenager gone and replaced by a
concerned young woman, entirely serious in her worries for a friend.

Once more I lie. "He's doing okay. I can get him to feed now, but he
still doesn't go out much. He's very weak."

"Can I see him?"

Such an innocent question, but it sends shivers down my spine. "Um...
no. He's... resting."

"But he won't mind me seeing him!" Dawn protests. "I haven't seen him
in over a week, and I'm worried about him. Come on - it'll probably
do him some good."

"No," I say firmly in the best authoritative voice I can manage.

"But Angel..."

"Dawn!" Buffy snaps sharply with a pointed look. "Angel said no."

The teenager falls silent. Interesting - a twenty-year-old woman gets
more respect from Dawn than a two-hundred-year-old vampire. She's a
headstrong girl is little Dawnie. I've always liked her.

"So how are you recovering?" I ask Buffy, hoping to switch the
subject. Buffy groans wearily implying that she's ill and exhausted.
I try not to grin. "Not so good then?"

"Well, I've gone from being comatose to just... blech," she
explains. "I'm still all shaky on my feet and food of any kind keeps
disagreeing with me, but on the whole I'm better than I was."

"Well it's good to see you up and about again," I tell her. Thank God
someone has recovered from the ordeal at Skull's house. My side still
twinges sometimes. I've been so busy with Spike I don't think I've
been feeding enough myself to keep my vampire healing going.

"I wanted to say thinks for taking that arrow for me," Buffy informs
me, managing a weak smile. "The hospital said you stopped it
puncturing... vital bits, I don't remember what they said, but it was
something important. So... you saved my life. Again. Thank you."

I shrug and force a smile. At least I can help someone by jumping in
front of arrows. My neglect of my Childe may have turned him
catatonic, but I can get myself shot to help other people. "That's
fine," I tell Buffy quietly. "Metal arrows can't hurt vampires so 
I wasn't in any danger. I couldn't let you get hurt."

"I'm grateful the poison didn't affect you as well," Buffy
adds, "otherwise I'd feel even more guilty."

"Poisons don't affect vampires, so there wasn't any danger for me," 
I say matter-of-factly, belittling my act. I don't deserve her praise.

"Apart from that one when you had to drink Buffy's blood," Dawn pipes
up.

The others look at her in surprise, as if she has said something
wrong. Apparently Buffy allowing me to feed from her to save my life
is a taboo subject, while my getting myself shot to save hers is a
topic for open discussion and publicly announced gratitude. It's a
funny world I live in.

"I do know about these things," Dawn is saying. "And get this: Horror
of horrors! I know how Angel lost his soul!"

I cringe at Dawn's unabashed announcement, but I know how some
teenagers love to shock their elders, so I let it slip. Buffy,
meanwhile, is either nursing a headache or hiding embarrassment. 
I don't ask which. I just play along.

"Buffy, are you okay? Maybe you should go home."

"No," she replies firmly. "I've spent the past five days at home,
either in my bedroom or the bathroom. I want to get out and do stuff
other than mope about feeling like crap."

"We were just going to the Magic Box," Willow explains to me. "Giles
said he can find a potion or something that'll help Buffy get her
Slayer strength back quicker."

"Perhaps you should get going," I suggest, hoping I don't appear too
rude. "Buffy's not back to full health yet and I need to feed Spike."

"Feed him?" Dawn exclaims curiously. "You make him sound like a baby
who can't take care of himself. Can't he feed on his own?"

I shudder as I realise the slip I have made. "I have to prepare the
blood for him," I blurt out, keeping my voice as steady as possible
given my panic. "He's still too weak to move around that much and he
needs to rest a lot of the time."

"So I gathered," Dawn mutters, still angry about not being able to
see Spike. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep the lid
on Spike's condition if Dawn keeps wanting to visit him.

"Okay," Willow agrees, getting to her feet and helping Buffy to stand
as well. "We'll get going then, if you're busy."

"Can I use your bathroom before we go?" Dawn asks me suddenly. "You
do have a bathroom, right? I mean, being a vampire you probably
don't... so you might not..."

"Upstairs, third door on the left," I tell her, pointing to the
staircase.

Dawn grins. "Thanks," she chirps as she skips past me on her way to
the stairs. "Won't be a second."

Once Dawn has gone Willow and I sit down again and Buffy collapses.

"You know," Willow announces thoughtfully, "you do an awful lot for
Spike. It's great that you're helping him so much."

I suppress a bitter chuckle at her words. Yes, it's wonderful of me
to help look after Spike since I let him disappear into a pit of
nothingness. I'm so very good at clearing up my own mess.

"It's good you guys have made up," Buffy adds. "I mean, I don't know
much about the Sire thing, but from what Giles has told me about
vampires you're like the most important person in his unlife. You
must be a big help to him."

I shrug, trying to dismiss their comments about how important I am to
my Childe. It only makes my failing him all the more painful. "Well,
I try," I mutter forlornly. "He doesn't really..."

I fall silent when I see the others looking over the back of the
sofa. I turn too to see what has caught their attention and see Dawn
standing at the foot of the stairs, tears in her eyes a look of fury
on her face.

She glares at me. "You bastard!" she spits, her voice wavering as she
fights sobs. "What have you done to him?"

I freeze. Oh my God. She's found him. She's found Spike and seen what
he's like and...

"Dawn!" Buffy snaps, anger flaring up. "Don't use words like that.
What are you talking about?"

Dawn is still glaring at me, ignoring her sister. "What did you do to
Spike?" she demands again, not giving up until she gets answers.

I hang my head in shame as I hear the others discuss my Childe's
condition, assuming I have caused it. And I have - only not in the
way they think.

Willow is joining in now. "Dawn - what's wrong with Spike?"

"I don't know!" I hear Dawn reply, on the verge of crying. "He's just
sitting up there and... he... he's just... oh God, we have to help him!"

I look up and Buffy meets my gaze, her eyes cruel and accusing. "Were
you two fighting?" she asks me. "Were you fighting Spike even though
he's good, because I thought you guys got over that?"

"No..." I mumble, looking down again. They're going to know. I'm a
failure as a Sire. Drusilla and Penn were proof of that - both
nutcases because of me. How I ever thought I could take care of Spike
in this fragile state I have no idea.

Buffy has already gotten to her feet with Willow's help and is
striding towards the stairs as best she can in her weakened state. 
I struggle to stand too, but my legs are shaking with panic. I dash
after the three girls as they head upstairs and I trip on the steps.
By the time I regain my balance and make my unsteady way to the
landing they are standing in the doorway of Spike's room, looking in
horror at the lifeless form of my Childe as Dawn shakes him
desperately, pleading with him to snap out of it.

I loiter behind Buffy and Willow, knowing my cover is blown.

"Oh God," Buffy breathes in utter shock. "What's happened?"

I sigh and cover my face with my hands. I have a lot of explaining to
do.

~TBC~