TITLE: Body and Soul - Part Two - Chapter 4
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: 15, for violence and language.
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 4 - Angel's POV

Today has been an anxious and worrying day after yesterday's
reassurance that I do have help. Spike's temperament can be
changeable at the best of times, but he has been rather highly strung
all day. His first feed went fine and he drained a whole cup without
spilling any, but the last made him panic so much I could hardly go
near him for the rest of the day without causing him distress. H's
still covered in the spilt blood and he won't let me clean it off. I
hate it when he shies away from me like that. I just want more than
anything to hold him and tell him everything will be alright, but he
won't let me do that at the moment. I wonder if my foolishness
yesterday has driven him away. Maybe my kissing him frightened him.

I didn't mean to alarm him. I don't think I did - well, he didn't
jump back or tell me to sod off and leave him alone, but obviously
there's no chance of getting any indication like that. I just feel so
possessive about him sometimes. He's my Childe and I want to let him
know that, and if I can't tell him through words then I want to do so
through actions.

But I'm trying to curb my instincts to show him how much I care about
him. More unwarranted kissing might make him worse. I already know he
doesn't even like me holding him sometimes, so I am making a special
effort today to keep my distance in my signs of how much I care about
him, only doing things which I know he will not find distressing.

Right now I am now painting his nails the shimmering shade of black
he likes. It's the nearest he'll let me get to him and the moment and
I'm finding it an oddly relaxing activity.

His nail polish was chipped when he got here and I found a bottle
left over in the drawer in his room from when we stayed here during
my brief evil stint. I gave his nails a coat of the polish yesterday
and I find it eerily disturbing that it hasn't chipped the way it
used to - proof of his inactivity. The polish remains blank, plain
and unchanged, much like him. Now I am just deepening the colour by
applying another coat.

"You like that?" I ask him, holding his hand up to his face for him
to look. "I know I'm not a manicurist, but I didn't go over the edges
that much, did I?"

At his lack of response, I sigh and kneel down on the floor. I prop
one elbow on his knee and rest my chin on my hand, looking up at him
at close quarters. He looks away, as usual, but I still look. He
seems so human-like sometimes, so quiet and withdrawn, like the
innocent lad he once was, with his big eyes and slim face.

"You are possibly the most difficult person to please in the whole
world," I tell him with a grin he can't see. "And remember, you're
talking to the guy who had to keep Darla entertained for a century."

Only he's not talking to me, is he? He never does. I sigh and look at
the bottle of polish in my hand. I've got nothing better to do, so I
paint his toenails as well. If he were fully conscious he'd kill me
for that, but I've given up putting shoes on him and he looks somehow
uneven with his fingers painted but his toes left plain.

So this is how my life has ended up. I've gone from playing a major
part in the Powers' plan to rid the world of evil to painting the
toenails of a catatonic vampire. But he's MY catatonic vampire.

With my task completed, I sit beside him and put an arm around him,
seeing if he has calmed down enough now. I must bathe him before the
day is through - he can't go to bed like that.

He pulls away from my embrace on instinct, fighting my attempts to
comfort him. But then, much to my delight, he relaxes again. He
hasn't relaxed all day, and I pull him a little closer, relishing
this brief and rare moment of closeness. It is only very occasionally
that he will relax enough for me to hold him like this for this long,
but today he has, and I relish it, resting his head on my shoulder
and wrapping both arms around him.

"I'm here for you Spike," I murmur to him softly, running my
fingertips through his soft blonde hair, ungelled and curling
messily. I wonder briefly if I should do something with his hair, but
it's so nice like this I'm tempted to leave it.

I don't know how much time passes as we sit here together, enjoying
such a rare moment of closeness. I can't believe how adorable he can
be sometimes when he's not backing away from me as if I'm going to
hurt him. I could hold him like this forever, just whispering to him
and watching his face as the panicked stare fades and he looks calm
and soothed.

We are interrupted by a ring on the doorbell. Spike is startled and
begins shaking in my arms.

"Hush, Childe," I whisper in his ear, urging him to calm down again
as I rub my hands gently against the back of his neck. He snuggles
deeper into my embrace, burying his face in the front of my shirt. He
seems to have relaxed a little now, allowing me to sit him
comfortably on his bed, feet out on front of him and back against the
wall. I need to leave him to answer the door, but, as usual, I
daren't do so without giving him some sign that I'll be back. I don't
want him to miss me.

"I'm going to go and answer that," I tell him softly, resting a hand
on his face to try and get him to face me. "It's probably someone who
wants to help you. I'll be right back as soon as I can, so you just
sit tight."

He doesn't reply. He doesn't even look at me. My words don't seem to
have any effect on him, and it devastates me to see him so empty and
emotionless. I move closer and wrap my arms around him, feeling him
tense and then relax.

And then, for some reason, I find myself making that same stupid
mistake again. I kiss him, on the cheek this time, and once more it
just felt so natural and instinctive I couldn't stop myself. I didn't
even think about it. I just did it.

Thought returns when I find myself pausing, lingering there. I am
suddenly aware of how sharp his cheekbone feels under my lips. I let
him go, but not before I brush my lips lower, just moving down onto
the fleshier part of his cheek before breaking the contact. My thumb
traces over his lips - so much softer than they look - as I remove
the hand that was cupping his face.

His gaze flickers, focussing on me for a microsecond, glancing around
the room and then settling on his feet.

I think I've embarrassed him. What is it that makes me keep doing
that? It's just an instinctive reaction to the possessive feelings I
have for him and I can't stop myself.

"Spike, I'm so sorry," I mumble awkwardly, clambering away from him.
I hope he isn't angry with me - if he is capable of such an emotion
in his current state - and I also hope it doesn't happen again. I
leave his room, determined to put a stop to this. I feel like I'm
just showing him how much I care when I actually... I can't even bring
myself to think about it, I'm so ashamed. But I feel like I'm
protecting him, then afterwards it just seems like I've taken
advantage of him. He's not with it, I remind myself sternly. He
couldn't stop me even if he knew what was going on, and it's just...
unfair.

And it's not going to happen again, I resolve as I open the front
door.

I find Harris standing on my doorstep, a large sports bag in his
hands which he is looking at studiously. He looks up sharply as I
open the door.

"Hey, Deadb... Angel," he announces, correcting himself. His face
falls. Oh, I must be looking as if I'm in a bad mood. "Oh, uh... sorry.
I guess I've come at a bad time."

Oh no, I was just unintentionally molesting my emotionally scarred
Childe. "No, it's fine," I tell him. I could do with the company to
distract myself from the incident with Spike. "Please, come in."

I allow Harris into my living room. I've never really got on well
with him - just barely tolerated him - but he seems in an amiable
mood so I'll accept his company.

"I take it Buffy told you about Spike," I ask him, closing the front
door behind my guest.

"Yeah," Xander replies, coming to a halt in the middle of the living
room. "she said he was out of it, and you could do with some help
taking care of him - but not that you can't cope. Of course, if you
think you can't then that's cool too because Spike can be a handful.
I lived with him for a month or so and Jeez, what a pain. But... 
I'm not insulting your... Childe or whatever he is. Okay, I'm done."

I can't help but be amused at Xander's nervous babbling. He probably
thinks I'm about to deck him one for accidentally hurting my feelings
or something. But he's here to offer help - something which can't be
easy for him given our recent argument over his treatment of Spike -
and I'm not going to refuse.

"It's fine," I tell him with as much of a smile as I can muster. 
"I appreciate your help, and I know Spike can be a handful. Not that
he's much trouble at the moment."

"So I gathered," Xander mutters, shifting his feet awkwardly. "Look,
Angel... I'm sorry I screwed up. I know I messed Spike's mind up when
his soul came back, and I..."

"Hey - you're not the only one who made mistakes," I assure him,
referring to my neglect on Spike's first might here and secretly
thinking of those two kisses.

Xander grins an embarrassed but relieved grin and holds up the sports
bag. "Thanks. Anyway, I brought some stuff for him. Buffy said he was
wearing your stuff and it didn't fit so good, so I thought some of
mine might be better."

I glance at the bag his is holding out in offering. "You won't want
them back," I warn him. "Feeding him is... messy and blood doesn't come
out."

He shrugs. "Nah, it's fine. Most of it doesn't fit and it's too dull
for my tastes."

"Thanks," I say, taking the bag and wondering what Xander Harris
Fashion Atrocities lurk inside. By 'too dull' he probably means the
flowers and palm trees aren't big enough or the fabric is just
slightly the wrong shade of turquoise. "He's got a wardrobe
upstairs," I inform Xander. "I'll put these away for him."

"Can I meet the man himself?" Xander asks, rocking on his heels
nervously. I think he still feels guilty about damaging Spike. Bet he
doesn't feel half as bad as I do.

"Sure," I mutter, leading the way up the stairs into Spike's room. My
Childe is where I left him, sitting on the bed leaning against the
wall. I wonder what he's thinking about. Same thing as me? Thinking
about how I betrayed his trust?

I drop the bag on the table and sort through the contents while
Xander inspects Spike from a distance. Perhaps that's what I should
do - keep my distance. I'll give him the physical care he needs and
talk to him, but no more cuddles and definitely no more...

I distract myself by putting the clothes away, pausing at the bright
orange t-shirt.

"Yeah, I know," Xander comments with a slight grin. "Not his style.
He'll probably kill me for that when he gets better, soul or no soul."

"He doesn't worry much about clothes these days," I sigh as I put
away the last of the borrowed garments, most of which are adequate
and will probably fit Spike better than anything I own.

"Yeah, hence all the bloodstains," Xander observes, pointing to the
blood that adorns Spike's t-shirt and chin from his last meal. "I
take it that was a meal he didn't like."

I cringe at letting someone else see Spike in such a mess and grab a
tissue from the box on the bedside table. "It's difficult to get him
to feed," I explain hastily, sitting down beside Spike and wiping the
blood from his face and neck. I hadn't been able to clean him up
earlier - he was too nervous - but he seems relaxed enough now.

He inches towards me slightly, his dazed and half-conscious
indication that he wants to be held, but he's not aware enough to
ask. I let him lean against me and go to put my arm around him, but 
a voice in my head stops me.

I thought I said no more cuddles! I can't have him snuggling up to me
like that. He's so out of it he can't know how much temptation there
is for me when he does that. It's just wrong, and I can't let that
temptation continue.

I push him away, firmly but gently.

"Hey," Xander comments, puzzled and sounding a little worried. 
"What's with the unfriendliness? He just wanted a hug."

I feel a pang of guilt at my actions as I put Spike back in his
original place. "I can't let him get too attached," I explain, as if
it is Spike who is getting too close to me and not the other way
round. "If he latches on to me too much he might never be able to
take care of himself again."

Xander shrugs and I know I have explained my actions. "Okay - you're
the... Sire or whatever. I don't know much about how this relationship
works with you guys,"

I stare at him, wide-eyed. "Relationship?" I blurt out in panic. "Who
said I had a relationship with Spike?"

Xander's brow creases with confusion. "Giles did. He said the Sire
and Childe bond was kinda special. Something to do with sharing
blood, I didn't really listen to the icky part. Blood... eech!"

I breathe a sigh of relief. I'm getting far too jittery about this.
My over-possessive feelings for Spike are unnerving as it is without
anyone else finding out.

"Look," Xander announces. "I seem to have come at a bad time. You
don't look too happy about my being here, so I'll come back another
time when things are a little less stressful for you. I'll just let
myself out."

Damn. Now I've made Xander feel like I'm pissed off with him. "It's
not your fault - it's just been a bad day," I assure him. "Thanks 
for the clothes, and if you want to stop by again I'd be grateful.
Really. I like the company."

Yes, it helps distract me from assaulting my catatonic Childe. God,
I'm such a bastard.

"Okay," Xander replies with a nod. "If you need anything you can just
call. I hope things ease up a little soon."

He leaves the room and I stand silently and listen until I hear the
front door slam downstairs. He must think I'm so antisocial, more so
than he did before. And it's my own stupid fault for letting this
situation with Spike escalate from simple caring to a over-emotional
possessiveness.

It ends now. He needs help, not an over-amorous Sire trying to kiss
him.

"Right," I mutter, embracing practicality and shunning my desires. 
"You need a bath. And that shirt needs washing."

Doing my very best to ignore the intense urge to pick him up in my
arms and cuddle him, I manhandle Spike out of his shirt. He clings to
my arm and tries to move closer, an action I take as a plea for
comfort, not an invitation to kiss him. I just give him a pat on the
shoulder and leave.

I dump his shirt in the dirty clothes basket on the landing and
return to his room to scoop him up and carry him into the bathroom.
As put my arms around him to lift him up he rests his head against
me, practically nuzzling me.

"Stop it!" I tell him, a lot snappier than I intended. My anger with
myself for my irresponsible actions is being taken out on him. I calm
myself, trying not to frighten him. "You... you know what happens if
you get too close to me, and we don't want it to happen again do we?"

He drops his head and lets me pick him up without trying to hide his
face in my shirt. He seems calmer, which is good.

Once in the bathroom, I run the bath, dropping a few bath pearls in.
The water develops a green hue as the hot water I add melts the
pearls and releases the oil. I swirl it around until the oil diffuses
and the scent of apples and aloe vera rises with the faint steam.

The bath ready, I turn to Spike as he sits on the floor beside me,
staring at the tiles. He's shivering. I don't know why - it's not
cold in here. Perhaps my kissing him again earlier has made him
nervous as to what I'll do while I bathe him. If vampires could
blush, I'd be scarlet.

Determined to prove to him that he's safe with me, despite my
previous indiscretions, I don't even look at him as I remove his
clothing and place him in the bathtub. He sits there, blank-faced as
usual, as I squeeze some shower gel onto a sponge and begin to scrub
at the dried blood on his chest. He flinches away, swatting at my
hands as he usually does.

"I know, Spike," I sigh, knowing exactly why he's so nervous. God,
I've gone and made him worse again. He's afraid of me now and I need
to reassure him. I take a deep breath. "Spike, I'm sorry for the way
I've treated you over these past couple of days. I didn't mean to
take advantage of you like that. But I promise now, no more kisses. 
I won't do it again."

He pushes me away again. Apparently my apologies are not enough.

"Never again," I repeat, insistent as he fights my attempts to clean
him. "It was a stupid mistake and it'll never happen again, I swear,
Spike."

I am shocked as he shoves me away so violently I topple from where 
I am kneeling at the side of the bath, my arm smacking painfully
against the taps. God, he really is angry with me. Even in this semi-
comatose state he can hate me.

I struggle to my feet and find him huddled in the bath, curled up
with his legs clutched to his chest and his head resting on his
knees.

"I'm guessing you need a moment to calm down," I deduce, a little
shaken from his attack. "I'll... I'll live you alone for a while."

On wobbly knees and nursing my aching arm, I leave the bathroom. With
the door closed behind me I curse myself for my kissing him. My
instinct told me I was helping, but how could that be so? How could
kissing him possibly help?

A sound from the bathroom drags me out of my thoughts. It sounded
like a growl. Vampires growl when in pain or angered and a wave of
panic sweeps through me. Some demon could have got into the room and
attacked Spike. Of course, he's helpless like this, unable to defend
himself.

My Childe is not going to become lunch to a lousy demon. Turning, 
I tug the door open and march in, unarmed but waiting to tear apart
anything that dared hurt my Childe before we could reconcile the
trust I have broken.

But there is no demon, only Spike sitting in the bath amid a vast
cloud of steam, hot water pouring from the hot tap and onto his hands.

I dash over to him and find that he has turned the tap on himself and
is dousing his hands with the boiling water. Shit. He's deliberately
trying to hurt himself!

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I yell in utter horror and confusion.

Then he looks at me. He actually LOOKS at me, not a flicker of eyes
or a blank stare at the wall behind me, but actual eye contact.

And the hate in those eyes chills me, despite the heat in the
bathroom.

He turns his attention back to the tap, growling from the pain he is
causing himself and shaking as he forces himself to keep his hands in
the boiling hot water, his hands, arms and legs scalded red from the
heat. If this is a vie for attention then it's worked, no doubts about
that. I am NOT going to let him hurt himself.

I grab him by his arms and haul him out of the bath. He struggles
furiously, much more than he has ever done before, kicking at me and
wriggling in my grasp. I cannot hold him for long and he ends up
crashing to the floor, his legs catching on the edge of the bath.

That must have hurt, but he doesn't cry out.

Thinking he will stay where I have dropped him, I lean over and
switch off the tap and remove the plug from the bath, but before I
can stand up again Spike is on his feet. He charges at me, punching
and kicking, his vampire face at the fore.

We both land in a tangle of limbs, him still striking out at me in
rage.

But he's so weak and thin from his days of malnutrition and little
exercise that he cannot possibly fight me. I grab his neck and pin
him to the floor, holding him still. It pains me to have to restrain
him like this, but he's out of control. There's no chance of
reasoning with him. I can see how the others felt when his soul was
first restored. There's just no alternative and it pains me to resort
to violence.

I relax my hold on him a little, knowing he's too weak to escape. He
twists his head around to look me in the eye, a harsh glare meeting
my concerned look.

"Welcome back, Spike," I say to him, at a loss for anything else to
say. This wasn't the poignant awakening I had hoped for, but he's
definitely with it.

Oh yes, I think with grim certainty as Spike glares at me with a rage
only those of the demon world can possess, my Childe is back - and
he's mad as hell with me.

~TBC~