TITLE: Body and Soul - Part Two - Chapter 5 
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 5A - Spike's POV

I hate this. I hate this world I've come back to. I should have
stayed in the sanctuary of my own mind. At least I was safe there.

It was amazing how well that worked. I found that if I just sat
unmoving for long enough, staring into space, I could empty my mind.
All the pain and guilt just vanished and I'd be safe. Sleeping was 
a problem because of the nightmares I got that first night. I don't
want that to happen again - it was just too horrific. So I don't
sleep. Simple. I keep my mind blank and the thoughts don't trouble me.

There's only one thing that made me want to come back here: the way
my Sire would treat me. Being brought back to reality is frightening,
I'll admit it. I let myself wake up a little and the thoughts
immediately plague me again. The faces of all the people I've killed
appear in front of my eyes, agonised and terrified, so vivid it's
like I'm living it all again, but Angel could just soothe me so well
sometimes. I think the only thing that's kept me from losing my mind
completely since Buffy was shot and poor Matt was killed - both
because of my carelessness - is the way Angel speaks to me. I didn't
use to register the words - just the soft concerned tone of his
voice. It was nice, and, once I'd realised that coming back to the
world might not be as horrible as I had expected, I woke up a little
and took note of what he was saying.

It was so wonderful to hear someone talking to me like that. It's
been too long since anyone has ever worried about me. The last thing
I remember before switching off was Harris yelling at me for letting
Skull shoot Buffy, and now my Sire is telling me how worried he is.
He cares about me.

Or he did. I don't know what he thinks now. Since I've woken up he's
been keeping his distance, barely talking to me. He doesn't hold me
any more - he doesn't even touch me in the slightest way other than
to force blood down my throat. I hate feeding - the taste of the
blood just reminds me of all the people I've drained. Angel has to
force me to drink, but at least it shows that he still cares enough
to keep me alive.

But he still doesn't hold me, and that's what I want more than
anything. I don't know when my feelings for my Sire escalated from
simple blood-bond to the intense craving for his comfort I have now,
but he means the world to me.

He's sitting at the table now while I collapse on my bed, shivering.
Two days have passed now since I came back and I'm exhausted. He's
just forced me to drink two cups of blood and the disgust is enough
to make me throw up, but the wonderful feeling of strength and 
energy I got from the foul-tasting red liquid is like bliss. It's 
a disturbing contrast.

I look at my Sire through narrow eyes. I know he can see me, but he
ignores me. Oh for fuck's sake Sire, just look at me will you? Come
on Peaches, just give me something. I need you.

No, he just stares at the crossword he is doing. It seems that now
I'm out of my trance his work is done and he doesn't need to play the
kind and caring Sire anymore. Says something about how much he cared
about me. At least I got his attention while I was catatonic.

But I've found another way to do that now. If my silent little pleas
for his comfort don't work anymore then I have plan two, and it's a
plan that has been working very well these past two days.

Pain.

I don't really know what made me think of it. I was upset. I was just
starting to wake up because of the lovely way he was treating me, and
then he suddenly became so cold and offhand with me. He wouldn't hold
me; he wouldn't let me near him.

It hurt and I realised that he just didn't care the way I thought he
did.

So I burnt myself. The pain was so terrible, but it made him notice
me again. He yelled at me. He dragged me away from the hot water and
held me down so I couldn't hurt myself again. At least I made him pay
attention, even though it's not the kind treatment I crave from him.

But it's something. I've tried it again a few times recently - just
hurting myself so he comes running to shout at me for being so stupid
and drag me back to my room. It's the only time he seems to touch me.

I don't understand that. What did I do to drive him away? Why is he
ignoring me?

I can't talk to him to get his attention. After so long of being
silent my throat hurts if I try and my voice sounds horrible, inhuman
and rough. I've tried speaking when he's not here what comes out can
barely be understood, too quiet and scratchy. I was embarrassed, and
I don't want him to hear.

I sit up and watch him avidly as he flicks through his newspaper.
Look at me, damn it! Don't just sit there reading your bloody paper,
look at me! Help me! I need you, you stupid bloody ponce, why won't
you help me?

Frustrated at his complete disregard for me and my inability to speak
to him I stand up and smash my fist against the wall. I would hit
him, but I can't get myself to hurt him.

A pained growl escapes from my lungs as I pummel the brickwork, my
knuckles splitting. Within seconds he grabs me, and I lean into his
embrace, relishing the feel of his arms around me as he hauls me away
from the wall. I pretend to fight him and he squeezes me tighter. Oh
thank God, I need this. I need him so much.

We end up sitting on the bed, his arms still around me. It's so
perfect... No... no don't let go of me. Please stay...

He releases me and I collapse backwards and lie down, utterly
defeated, my hands painful and bleeding. He struggles to disentangle
himself from me with such haste I wonder if there is something
horribly wrong with me. He just can't get away from me fast enough.

He looks down at me and shakes his head. "I don't understand you,
Spike," he sighs. "Why the hell are you doing this? What are you
trying to achieve?"

I'm trying to get you to notice me, you bloody poof. And hey, it
works for about a second until you shove me away as if I'm poisonous.

Silent again, he rifles through a cupboard for the first aid kit and
sets about bandaging my bleeding hands. It's so nice to feel him
holding my hands like that, so tender and caring, but I daren't try
and hold onto him because he doesn't seem interested and I don't know
how he'll react. I can't face another rejection.

After he has finished bandaging my hands - all professional-like and
refusing to give me any signs of his affection whatsoever - he just
stands up, puts the first aid kit away and grabs his jacket from the
chair in the corner.

"I'm going out, Spike," he tells me flatly. "Don't do anything stupid
while I'm gone."

I watch as he pulls his coat on and walks out, leaving me alone.
Shit, what have I done wrong now? Why won't he stay and comfort me?

The front door crashes closed downstairs and I shudder violently. He
hasn't left me alone since I moved in here. Why has he gone? I need
him...

Well fine. If he doesn't get it then I'll prove to him just how much
his Childe needs his help.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 5B - Angel's POV

My hands are shaking as I sit in Giles's apartment, glancing around
at the furnishings and dTcor. It's been a long time since I've been
here and the place brings back unpleasant memories. Giles has been
awake all night researching this potion to restore Buffy's strength,
so I'm not interrupting his sleep. I wouldn't have visited at this
time if it wasn't an emergency.

Giles is sitting opposite me in an armchair while I am hunched on the
sofa as if trying to disappear.

"So," Giles announces, noting my edginess. "You have something you
wish to discuss?"

I nod and try to ignore the guilty feelings this place inspires. 
"Yeah," I reply, my voice a little croaky from nerves. "You... 
you know Spike's awake now?"

"Yes," Giles replies simply. "Buffy told me. Are you having any
problems with him?"

I worry my lower lip with my teeth and shift awkwardly. "He keeps
hurting himself," I explain quietly. "I don't know why he does it,
and I keep telling him not to, but he won't stop."

"I think I can help," Giles replies. He stands up, going over to a
small bookcase in the corner. When he returns he places several
pamphlets on the coffee table. I pick one up and scan it. It's the
sort of counselling books you can pick up at hospitals and schools
about helping people with specific problems. This focuses on helping
people who injure themselves.

"I worked at a school - we were given training about things like
this," Giles explains to me before I even ask the question. He sits
down again and looks at me. "If you want a cause, it'll be in there."

I scan through the first page, but the phrase 'victims of sexual
assault' keeps jumping out of the text and hitting me. But I've
stopped kissing him now - that can't be it. I move on and read
another paragraph.

"'Punishment for actions the person perceives as wrong'?" I quote,
looking up at Giles, turning the book around and showing him the
relevant sentence.

He shrugs. "It could be. Or it could simply be that he's suffering
and wants more attention from you. How have you been treating him
recently?"

I cringe inwardly as I remember those kisses. "We... we got pretty
close," I say. "That was just before he came back, so I've... backed
off a little now."

"Well perhaps he misses the way you behaved towards him previously,"
Giles deduces thoughtfully. "I take it you pamper him more after he...
wounds himself."

"It's kinda hard not to," I mutter in reply, wondering how long Spike
would last if I didn't bandage him up and drag him away from the
weapons cabinet when I see him rifling through my collection of
knives.

"So try and be more affectionate all the time," Giles instructs me,
the tone of his voice indicating that he thinks I'm an idiot for not
thinking of this myself. "Let him know he doesn't have to act up for
your attention."

"No," I mumble, my mind plaguing me with guilt over what I do to
Spike if I try and show him affection. "I can't. He... we were getting
too close. I didn't want him to become dependent, so I had to back
off."

The frown on Giles's face worries me. He either doesn't believe my
excuse or I have just dismissed the easiest and most obvious solution.

"Well," he ponders, "the alternative would be to stop rewarding his
actions. If he thinks hurting himself will get your attention, then
prove him wrong. Ignore him when he harms himself and try and treat
him kindly when he behaves well. I know you don't want him to end up
relying on you too much, but you're the most important person in his
life. You're his Sire, and he needs you more than ever at the moment."

"Right," I mutter under my breath. "Thanks." I gather up my gift of
pamphlets and leave. So, I can either cuddle up to Spike more and
hope I'm not tempted to take advantage of him again, or I can leave
him to hack himself to bits with my sabre. My life just gets better
and better.

~~~~~~~~~~

I get home just before sunrise, the feeling of the approaching dawn
beginning to create a tingling sensation on my skin. The house is
surprisingly quiet. I had expected to find Spike busy trashing is
room - or mine - now that I had left.

Instinct tells me to search the weapons store first. The room is
empty and the cupboard is still closed and locked, bound with the
chain and padlock I fitted yesterday after Spike started playing with
the knives. My Childe is not in his room either and I have searched
the entire house before I realise that the back door - the large
window leading out to the courtyard - is open.

I head over, the feel of the impending morning strong as I step
outside.

Spike is there, and it takes me a moment to register what he is doing.

He's sitting on the wall of the fountain, looking up at the rapidly
lightening sky. His shirt is gone, lying on the floor beside him.

Then I realise. He's greeting the sun - an ancient vampire suicide
method. My panic rises as the horror of the situation hits me. My
Childe is trying to end his life by burning up in the lethal rays of
the sun. I'm not going to let that happen. I rush out into the
sunlight just as his skin begins to smoke and grab him from his place
on the fountain. The pain of the sun is enough to make me cry out in
agony but I'm not going to let Spike do this.

I dive into the shade of the house with him slung over my shoulder.
We crash to the floor and I hear him grunt as his back smacks against
the hard marble. I stand up, leaving him where he is. His chest bears
blisters from the sun and I do not doubt that his back is the same.
Now I would usually dress his wounds before going back to my usual
habit of ignoring him so I'm not tempted to kiss him again, but not
this time.

I go into the kitchen and get myself a cup of pigs' blood. I pour
Spike a little bit into a glass and leave it on the coffee table. He
has got up from the floor now and is sitting on the sofa looking at
me as if expecting me to play nursemaid for him.

"Drink that," I tell him bluntly. "I won't force you. There are some
bandages in your room if you want to dress those wounds."

His brow creases in confusion. This isn't what he expected.

"What?" I ask him innocently. "You think you can beat yourself up
like this and expect me to clean up the mess? I'm sick of it, Spike.
I'm not going to help you if it's all your own fault. You can either
feed yourself, bandage your own self-inflicted wounds or you can just
sit there and rot. You're not getting my sympathy when you bring it
all on yourself."

It pains me to do this, but Giles said it would help and the
alternative plan - the 'show affection all the time' plan - does not
seem like an easy option to me. I'm dubious that Spike's behaviour is
because he wants my attention, but at this stage I'm willing to try
anything.

I walk away, leaving Spike to sort himself out, but ready to stop him
running outside if my attempts to cure him have an adverse effect. I
don't hear his make a move for the window. What I do hear is a choked
scream and a smash as his glass of blood hits the wall.

I turn and see him staring at me pleadingly, shaking. His lips are
moving but no words are coming out. Suddenly he coughs loudly,
gasping for breath as his body is wracked by a painful fit of
choking. I want to go and help him, but I stand my ground.

He looks up at me. "You bastard," he hisses through his teeth. "Don't
you dare leave me!"

I freeze. Maybe it is my attention he wanted. I'm also shocked that
he has finally said something after over a week of silence. I move a
little closer, hoping he will continue to speak. "Spike?" I ask
nervously. "Can we talk about this now?"

He leaps off the sofa and struggles towards me on weak legs,
collapsing at my feet. On instinct I lean down with him and hold
him. "Spike, talk to me," I plead.

"You can't leave me," he tells me, his voice sounding painfully rough
from all the days of keeping silent. "Don't leave me Sire, I need
you. Please don't leave me."

He's sobbing now, and I carry him to the sofa. Thank God I've finally
managed to get him to open up. "Spike?" I ask him softly, rubbing his
back gently with one hand. "Why didn't you talk to me earlier?"

He sniffs and wipes his eyes. "My throat," he replies, his voice
still quiet and rough. "Hurts. Couldn't speak."

I nod in understanding and hand him my glass of blood. He looks at it
as if I've offered him a glass of green slime. "Drink it," I instruct
him. "I'm not going anywhere, but I expect you to take care of
yourself a little more. For me? Understand?"

Very apprehensively, he takes the glass and raises it to his lips,
swallowing a tiny mouthful. He shudders, then sighs as the healing
powers of the blood kick in. Without thinking, I put a hand on his
leg and give it a squeeze. I'm so proud of him for making this tiny
step towards independence! "That's it, Spike. It'll help."

He drinks about half the glass, then sets it down and leans against
me nervously. I want to pull away as the temptation to kiss the face
that is resting only inches from my own steadily increases, but as I
make to move away from him he wraps his arms around me.

"Please don't go," he whispers, whimpering slightly. "You promised
you wouldn't leave me."

I feel so delighted and surprised at those words. He does like me
holding him - Giles was right. He wanted my attention. I thought I'd
betrayed his trust and stopped him from ever wanting me near him
again. "Is that why you kept hurting yourself?" I ask him.

He nods, nuzzling my shoulder. "You stopped holding me," he murmurs,
his voice still a little scratchy. "You were the best thing in my
whole miserable bloody life and you just didn't care any more. I
wanted to make you care."

I stare at him adoringly as the sweet and pleading words fall from
his lips. He doesn't seem like my unruly Childe at all. Who stole
Spike and put this quiet and sensitive man in his place?

"I do care," I tell him firmly. "I care about you very much, and you
don't need to keep injuring yourself to make me show it. If you want
cuddles, then I can do cuddles."

"Why did you stop?" he asks quietly.

This is a question I was dreading him asking. He didn't notice what I
did to him while he was out of it. Should I lie, or should I admit to
how I kissed him and possibly drive him away again?

He's sitting up now, with one leg folded under him so he can look at
me earnestly with wide eyes. I can't lie to this innocent creature.

I take a deep breath and look away from those appealing eyes. "I... 
I took advantage of you, Spike," I tell him. "While you were... gone 
I... I kissed you."

I wait for a string of curses and insults. What I get is not what I
expected.

"Oh... that. How was that taking advantage?"

I look up at him. His brow is creased with curiosity and it makes 
me chuckle. After a moment I regain my composure and answer his
question. "Spike, you were barely conscious. You couldn't even say
no, and I had no right..."

"I liked it," he blurts out before looking away and wringing his
hands. I think he's embarrassed - and it's adorable.

"I thought I'd frightened you," I explain, holding his hand and
grateful that I can now be certain he will not feel threatened. "I
thought that was why you got so violent - you were angry with me."

He laughs that familiar Spike laugh, albeit a little gravellier than
usual because of his throat. "You silly sod," he mumbles, shaking his
head. "I was pissed off 'cos you were ignoring me."

I look away from him and close my eyes. God, I've been so stupid. 
I'm such a pessimist, that's my problem. I just assumed that he 
didn't like the way I treated him. I always think I'm doing something
wrong. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?" I ask him with a smile. "I've caused
you so much pain, and I'm so sorry." I reach out and touch his face,
running a finger along his cheek.

He moves closer, leaning against me again. "Make it up to me then?"
he asks hopefully, a hint of pleading in his voice.

I wrap my arms around with him and squeeze him closer to me. He
wriggles his arms around me as well and rests his chin on my chest.
God I've missed holding him like this. I feel so close to him, like 
a Sire and a Childe should be. I've spent too long away from him over
the past century and it's time to make up for it.

I look down at him and can't help but smile. He looks so adorable, my
dear sweet boy. Once more, and without hesitation or regret, I place
a soft kiss on his forehead. When I move away he is grinning. He
looks up and me and his eyes, once so dull and lifeless or clouded
with anger, are glistening with tears of joy. And he's the most
beautiful sight I've ever seen.

~TBC~