TITLE: Body and Soul - Part Two - Chapter 3
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 3 - Angel's POV

I've told Buffy. I explained to her the full extent of Spike's
condition, told her how I'd been caring for him these past few days
on my own, too ashamed to let anyone else know and fretted with her
over what can be done to help him.

We're sitting on the dusty floorboards outside Spike's room. Dawn and
Willow are with Spike, trying to ease him back into reality with
comforting words, much like I have been doing.

"And he's been like this ever since the raid?" Buffy asks in
disbelief. "Just sitting there?"

I nod slowly. "I can't get him to talk to me, or move, or feed
himself or do anything."

"It must have been horrible for you," Buffy murmurs. "Why didn't you
say something? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I look up and see her sympathetic gaze. She doesn't blame me. 
She never does. "Because he's my problem," I reply firmly. "My
responsibility. He's like this because I left him alone on that first
night, and he just... disappeared into his mind. He's my Childe, I'm
supposed to care for him, and I just made him worse. I think he's
broken, Buffy. I don't think I'm ever going to get him back."

Buffy stares at my unfaltering. "We'll see," she says firmly, her
optimism inspiring a little hope in me yet. Perhaps I have not
completely given up on Spike.

We both stand up. I expect Buffy wants to see Spike as well and get
an idea of how he is. Shamed though I am to have to explain my
mistake with Spike to the others, it has lifted a great weight from
my shoulders. I have help now, and they don't blame me.

When we enter Spike's room Dawn and Willow are sitting on wooden
chairs at the small table I have set up so I can sit with him and
occupy myself with crosswords and other simple pastimes. Spike isn't
a great conversationalist at the moment, but I hate to leave him on
his own.

Dawn looks up at Buffy as I sit the foot of the bed. "Have you found
out why Spike's like this?" she asks quickly.

Buffy nods. "It's shock from what happened at Skull's place," she
explains briefly and matter-of-factly, omitting the details of how my
neglect worsened his condition. Maybe she thinks I played no part in
causing his problems. Maybe I didn't. A second opinion is reassuring
for me.

"Why?" Dawn presses on, glancing sideways at Spike every so often, as
if wanting to ensure that her words aren't upsetting him. "What
happened?"

"What didn't happen?" Willow mutters, shaking her head. "Buffy got
shot, some poor kid got killed, and God... I'll never forget that
kitchen. All those people."

"B-but Buffy's okay now," Dawn protests, trying to see the logic of
Spike's thinking. "He should be alright about that."

Buffy looks at me inquisitively and I shrug. If she wants to try and
get through to Spike by assuring him that she has recovered, then she
is welcome to try.

My poor boy is now curled up on his bed huddled in the corner with
his knees clutched to his chest. Buffy sits beside him slowly so as
not to startle him, but he doesn't even look up at her. He's staring
blankly at the wall a few inches behind my head.

"Spike?" she asks softly, trying to get is attention. "Spike... Angel
tells me you've been kinda depressed since I got shot. Now, I know
you feel responsible, but you shouldn't. I'm fine now, so please
don't worry." At Spike's lack of response she reaches out and touches
his hand. He flinches away violently at the unexpected contact,
squeezing further into the corner and turning away so he doesn't have
to look.

Buffy moves away, perturbed by his distressed whimpering. "Sorry,"
she sighs, either apologising to Spike for startling him or me for
not being able to help.

"I didn't think it would work," I tell her, hoping to reassure
her. "Seeing you get hurt might have triggered this, but I think
there are other factors."

"Like poor Matt dying," Willow suggests mournfully.

I nod in agreement. I've never seen Spike so upset over someone. The
way he reacted to that boy's death was agonising. "What happened when
you rescued him?" I ask Willow curiously.

Willow frowns, clearly troubled by the memories of what had happened
in that kitchen. "Spike helped me get him out of the cold room," she
explains. "He was kinda nervous, I mean... with all the bodies and the
blood. God it was horrible..."

She pauses to recover for a moment, trying to banish the horrific
images from her mind. I know how difficult that can be.

"Then, once he was out Spike sorta took over, asked for his name and
told him he was going to be alright. He seemed so... thrilled at the
thought of saving a life. Matt became HIS survivor - the one he'd
rescued. He promised him that he'd get him out of there alive."

"And it was a promise he couldn't keep," I conclude, realising
Spike's mistake. He had broken a vow and it made him feel like he had
betrayed a trust. It wasn't his fault Skull had killed Matt, but the
guilt of breaking his promise must have been terrible. As first
rescue missions go, Spike's didn't have a happy ending.

"So there were lots of triggers to this," Buffy deduces, looking at
Spike's pathetic figure hunched on the bed.

I nod silently, wringing my hands. "There's the way he was treated
when his soul first came back. That probably left him susceptible to
trauma."

Buffy cringes and I gather that Giles or one of the others must have
told her about what I said about that. "Sorry I shot him," she says
meekly. "I didn't mean to upset him, I just..."

"You couldn't let him injure himself, I understand," I interrupt with
a polite smile. My anger over Spike's treatment has waned. I know
they were only trying to help him, the same way I was.

"I just didn't expect him to react the way he did," Buffy explains
sadly, clasping her hands together. "I thought he would be like you,
but he wasn't. I should never have assumed that."

I shake my head. No, my Childe and I are nothing alike. "Giving a
demon a soul doesn't create a... specific personality," I explain to
the girls. "I never expected Spike to be like me when this happened.
He's a different person, and that's another reason why he's like
this. He's so much more vulnerable than me."

"Spike vulnerable?!" Dawn exclaims dubiously. "But he's like the
toughest guy I know."

"I mean the person he was before he was turned," I add. I cannot help
a small smile crossing my face at the thought of young William. For
some reason he just seems... adorable. "William was... so innocent,
sensitive, downtrodden and just... weak. That's why we chose him, me
and Dru. Drusilla was drawn to his artistry and mind, but I just
wanted to turn someone I could hurt. She wanted a devoted lover, but
I wanted a grovelling servant. He seemed perfect." I shudder as I
recall the painful memories of how Dru and I had destroyed the life
of a shy and naive young man and turned him into a demon.

"You feel guilty about it, huh?" Dawn asks, stating the obvious with
a slight smile.

"How could I not?" I reply, looking at my Childe. "Not only did I
kill him, but I was a terrible Sire to him. I never thought of him as
my Childe, even after I let him feed from me. He was just someone to
clean my boots and scrub out the fireplace. First he was afraid of
me, then he rebelled, and after many years we became begrudging
friends. I never considered him an equal."

I scoot closer, putting a hand on his raised knee. "But I'm trying to
make it up to you, Will," I tell him softly. "I'm trying got help
you, see?" I lean back, my hand resting on a bare foot now. He whips
it back out of my reach, pouting.

"I'm guessing he doesn't like being touched," Dawn observes.

"Yeah - and his feet are ticklish," I inform her with a weak smile. I
cringe when I think of how ridiculously cute we must look like this -
and Spike would rather die than be called 'cute'.

"Look," I announce, trying to hide my embarrassment at my childish
behaviour, "I have to feed him now. You probably don't want to
watch." I stand up and walk over to the small fridge in the corner,
appearing all serious.

"I've seen Spike drink blood before," Dawn replies casually. "It's
not that icky."

I pause, cup of blood in hand. "No it's not that," I mutter, shifting
awkwardly. "It's how I have to do it. It's not... pleasant. I kind of
have to force the blood down his throat." I wait silently for a
response, wondering if they'll think I'm some kind of evil sadist for
force-feeding Spike in this manner, but Buffy's sympathetic look
reassures me.

"Hey," Buffy tells me softly. "We're here to help. We're not about to
go running off because of the not-so-fun parts."

I manage a weak smile at her words and set the cup down on the
bedside table so I can pick Spike up and arrange him so I can feed
him. As I'm standing there with my Childe in my arms, his face buried
against my chest, Dawn steps up.

"Can I help?" she asks earnestly, a pained look on her face at the
sight of Spike so helpless. "He's my friend - I want to help him."

I agree and Dawn sits down on the bed. I set Spike down beside her,
his head on her lap, and hand her the cup. With my instructions she
manages to coax into swallowing several mouthfuls of blood before he
begins to struggle and spit the blood out onto his t-shirt.

"That's enough," I tell her quickly. "If you try and make him drink
when he's fighting it he just brings it back up."

Dawn frowns in concern, but nods understandingly, moving away from
Spike so I can put him back where he was.

I lift his worryingly light and slender body from where he is lying
and return him to the corner, where he snuggles down and resumes his
wall-gazing.

Dawn was so brave about that. The first time I fed him I was
devastated, but she seemed so logical. She knew she was doing all she
could and seems happier for her contribution to Spike's wellbeing.
Perhaps I should learn from her example and try not to be so ashamed
of the way I have to treat Spike to keep him healthy.

"Is that why he's so thin?" Dawn asks. "Because he can't drink much?"

I nod and give Spike a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Yeah. I try and
feed him as much as I can, but he doesn't like it. I think the taste
of blood brings back memories, so he fights me when I try to make him
drink." I eye the copious bloodstains that now adorn his t-shirt. 
"So... it gets a little messy."

"Evidently," Dawn comments with a wobbly grin.

"Look," I sigh, grabbing a tissue from the supply in the bedside
cabinet and dabbing at Spike's t-shirt, "I ought to give him a bath
now. And you should try and get your potion from Giles. I don't think
Buffy's going to be staying awake much longer."

Buffy smiles weakly at me from the chair in the corner. She looks so
tired, thanks to that poison. I can't wait to get my hands on Skull
and tear him apart for hurting my friends like this.

"Okay," Willow agrees, getting to her feet. "Take care of Spike, and
if you need anything, just call." She goes up to Spike and puts a
hand on his arm. "Spike - you try and get better."

"Yeah," Dawn adds, leaning down and holding his hand. "I know the
world can be scary, but people here care about you. Come back to us,
please."

Spike pulls his hand away and folds his arms, as he usually does when
something nice happens to him, trying to protect himself from things
that try and tempt him back into harsh reality.

"Take good care of him?" Dawn appeals to me.

"I will," I promise, watching as Buffy moves a little closer to my
Childe.

"I'm going to come back and visit again," I hear her vow to him. "Be
good for Angel and try and eat more."

I escort my friends from Spike's room to the main door and we say our
goodbyes. I know I can expect further visits from them in the future,
and I don't have to hide Spike from them any more.

As the door closes behind them I consider with great relief the
events of today. I had found the prospect of others finding out about
Spike terrifying, but now I have help in my taking care of him and
it's a wonderful relief.

I head back upstairs to Spike's bedroom. I need to bathe him and
clean his t-shirt before the spilled blood dries. My boy requires
round-the-clock attention. In that respect he hasn't changed much,
only in the old days it was "Angelus, can we go and kill something?"
any time of the day or night.

He's moved a little bit, now sitting leaning back against the wall
instead of huddled in the corner. He looks almost relaxed and
comfortable if you ignore the vacant stare.

I smile at him and drain the nearly-empty cup of blood on the table
left from his feed earlier. I'm getting very hungry myself by now.

"Who's popular, eh?" I comment with a grin. "See, you have friends
who worry about you too. They're going to help me take care of you.
Isn't that good of them?"

I try to talk to him as much as I can. It might bring him back to the
world a little. I think about how the others treated him today. They
must have been a big help.

I pause for a moment in my one-way conversation, thinking about my
role I have played over recent days in my caring for Spike. I was his
sole caregiver, now I'm going to be one of many. Perhaps I am being
over-possessive, but Spike is my Childe, my boy, and I feel I have to
let him know how strongly I feel about him and how I want to help
him. I'm not trying to shrug my responsibilities for him off onto
someone else. A frown appears on my face as I sit beside my Childe.

"Spike?" I ask gently, tilting his head towards me. He fights me, as
he always does. But I want to say this to his face, so I hold him
steady. After a moment he relaxes, not looking at me but facing me
still, his gaze darting off to a corner somewhere a little to the
left of my ear.

"Spike, I want you to know that I care about you. The others are
helping now, but I'm your Sire, and we both know what that means. I
understand you and I care about you more than they ever could and I'm
still going to help you. I'm not doing this because of duty, and I
don't just feel obliged to help you because of how I've hurt you in
the past. I'm doing it because I care about you so much and I want
you to get better. Do you understand me?"

I get no response to my words, so I do something else in the hope of
getting some answer from him.

Thinking back, I don't know why I did it. It was probably the most
stupid thing I could have done in this situation and for all I know I
could have terrified him, but it just seemed so natural and... right.

I kissed him. I just leaned forward and pressed my lips oh-so-gently
to his forehead, just below his hairline. It didn't last more than a
second, but it was long enough for me to absorb the fresh scent of
the shampoo and conditioner I use on his hair.

When I moved away again he seemed surprised, but it is difficult to
distinguish the few emotions he shows these days. His eyes just
flitted around randomly and his brow creased in thought before he
allowed his gaze to become still again, this time staring at his
knees.

Then, silently, I stood and walked out of his room to run his bath,
pondering the stupidity of my actions. I have no idea whether I have
made a grave mistake and I just wish there was some way of telling.

~TBC~