Honorable Sons: 5
by
Josie_h
Notes
When Willow returned an hour or so later she knocked three times before being greeted at the door by an all but naked and dripping Spike. She worried that he was also too thin, not quite to the famine thin level of Angel, but it made the witch contemplate the enormous inner strength of Spike, as there had been very obvious personal costs to the many months of running with an invalid. She noted that heroin thin on the vampire seemed to have pulled his skin tighter and defined the underlying musculature, still beautiful despite obvious needs. Sadly Willow knew things were going to get worse before she could lead both ensouled vamps back to full health.
Spike began to look exasperated as the witch stood pondering and staring instead of entering the apartment, “Well come in you daft bint! Never seen a bloke in ‘is altogether before? What! That wolf of yours keep the light low or some’t?” He huffed, turned and stomped back to the bathroom.
Willow giggled at the reason he was not quite ‘starkers’ (as the vamp himself might put it). Spike had obviously made an effort to cover up as he jumped from the bath but for some reason hadn’t used a towel, instead he had the legs of his jeans fashioned in an upside down arrangement to create a makeshift apron. The effect however, though obviously camouflaging said ‘bits’ from the front, took no account of the rear view.
Willow entered the apartment shopping in hand and grin firmly in place. Kicking the door shut with her foot, she wandered through to deposit her purchases in the kitchen, mood sobering as she passed by the bathroom.
“C’mon pet just let me do it.” There was an obviously pained reply but too quiet for Willow to catch the words.
“C’mon Sire please, please! It’s just your front, we did this when you were well, remember? Nothin’ to it… There you go, see? We’ll make it feel right… here…”
Willow stood by the door wishing she could enter and somehow help, but knew it would not be welcome.
“Can’t… even… oh guhh… Spike!… arghhh! Please!... can’t even… it hurts Spike… it hurts… Oh sh@#!”
There was a pause in the pleas, followed by a low purr interspersed by “Shh, Shhh… I’ve got you Sire… I’ve got you… c’mon we’re all done… Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Willow heard a heavy sigh and a second purr resonating with the first, then “Love you… my darling boy… love you”, the voice trailing off to be replaced again by the second purr. Such deep affection and care between the two in the bathroom proved too much. The seriousness of the situation and her own level of responsibility for fixing it came crashing down, and Willow found herself slapping her hand over her own mouth to hold in the cry of anguish. Tears flowed freely as she sprinted to her own room, dived onto the bed and curled up around a pillow. Burying her face in the softness, she proceeded to rock and cry herself to a point of control.
Spike had added more hot water to the bath and continued his ministrations even after his Sire had apparently fallen asleep, cradled to his chest. Somehow the rhythmic swish of the water laden warm sponge over the pale skin, and the gentle stroking and caressing of his Sire’s torso and groin, had a familiarity that allowed the blonde to momentarily forget their dire situation.
Eventually however, he had to move. Easing himself from behind his Sire, he let the older vampire rest in the water for a time, and thanks to a lack of breathing, was unworried by the thought that Angel’s face might accidentally submerge. He retrieved the warm towels from the drier in the laundry alcove and made a H shaped ‘bed’ on the floor beside the bath. He then pulled the plug, lifted his charge with extreme care and wrapped him in the fluffy white towels.
Angel woke as he was placed on the cushioned floor, immediately tense but relaxing again as loving hands wrapped him proficiently and lifted him into a safely cradled hold against a beloved chest.
“C’mon pet, let’s you and me just… let’s us get t’ bed.” With that Spike kissed the dark vampire’s temple and carried his charge to the large double bed. He knew that the spinal bed would have been better therapy-wise, but also that a traction bed and far, far worse torture was coming in the morning, and had decided that they needed one more night just to cuddle and ‘be’ before the healing hurt began.
>>>>>>
Willow woke mid morning and began to prepare the dragon antidote. The process was repetitive, tedious and, as it turned out, *extraordinarily* frustrating as batch after batch of the same intricate combination of chopped, grated, squeezed or extracted ingredients had to be pounded to mush with mortar and pestle, boiled with a measure of pure water, reduced, distilled and finally dripped slowly into a chilled vial ready for use.
By late afternoon a loud banging on the front door signaled the delivery of the traction bed. Willow – oven mitts in hand, directed delivery into the study, and supervised the positioning of the same, central to all other furniture. She was leaning back on a wall near the door to the room staring at the bed she knew would provide both relief and torture, when a quiet, strongly accented and deeply melodious, female voice startled her!
“Sorry de’ door it was open. Ahhh, dere was a call for a consultant from Everto Medicus Services. Am I in de right-place?”
“Oh… Oh.. yes!... Um sorry!” Willow threw down her mittens and turned to smile at a extraordinarily tall, extremely attractive and very, very dark individual.
“Good eve’nin m’am, I am F’Iaid. I am believe dat one William Aurelius ring our serviss an’ requested particular a’ssistance. You mus’ be da wiccan who is to do da healin’.”
Willow was captivated not only by the voice, but also by the extraordinary appearance of the woman – despite the western clothes, her statuesque build and deep chocolate features were consistent with a resident of Somalia or lower Ethiopia, but her eyes were even more striking.
The bright emerald green orbs glowed and seemed to communicate their own language to the observer. Though the woman before her appeared somewhere in her mid thirties, her eyes spoke clearly of an extreme age, and of hard won wisdom and deep compassion for those in need. Willow was instantly humbled and tipped her chin in a sign of respect.
“My Lady”
“No need for ceremony, I see dat you too have power, it will be needed from what I have been told. Do we need to wake William?”
“Oh umm yes, yes of course!” Willow moved toward the door but F’Iaid stopped her.
“Madam, I need to know da progress of de injury, and what is de process so far for da healin’. What is it you want to do? I need to adjust de bed for you friend’s unique-needs.”
Willow knocked lightly on the door of the master bedroom and not long after, a rather disheveled Spike emerged, obviously thrown by the early hour and the company.
“Hey Spike”
The overly chirpy nature of Willow’s greeting signaled the start of something Spike wished he could deny. Willow had been honest, and he knew… But…
“Chap can’t even have an afternoon kip these days without someone interruptin’! Who’s the Ebony princess?”
“Ummm oh yeah – Spike this is F’Iaid – she needs to talk to you about your time since the dragon – you know… how you guys escaped, how Angel’s condition has been – anything really…”
Thirty five minutes later, Willow returned from the last phases of her potion making to observe F’Iaid and Spike sitting cross legged on the floor, F’Iaid holding both Spike’s hands and speaking in low tones. They both looked up as she entered and the lady doctor gave her a welcoming smile.
“It is definitely not as bad as I feared. Angel is old and will be strong.” She squeezed Spike’s hands reassuringly then released him and stood up.
“Dere will be much pain and perhaps some fever, but you are very strong Willow, and mistress of your craft, so use it. I will put Master Angelus on traction but you know dat dis is jus’ to decompress he’s spine, dere are many oder effects of de dragon poison dat you are tryin’ to address. Call me if you wish advice.” With that F’Iaid turned and moved to the sickroom door. Spike moved swiftly, retrieving the still sleeping form of his Sire, whispering reassuringly in his ear until the older man was awake, then placing him gently on the newly provided bed.
Having just awoken and now staring at an unfamiliar face on a strangely clinical smelling bed Angel panicked. It took all Spike’s strength to extract himself from the tight grip and grasp both the shaking hands in one of his, stroke the now sweating forehead, and murmur calming words of affection as though to a skittish race horse.
“Spike? Please Spike… what’s…? Who is…? Oh Spike… don’t let go… don’t let go”
“I’m here Sire… You know I’m here… can you feel my hand? That’s it pet give it a bit of a squeeze… there you go! Now hold tight. This is F’Iaid, she’s one of the best quack’s in the business and just gonna get you in the right possie before we start on the real stuff yeah?’
There was a nod, then the older vampire closed his eyes preparing for the worst. Spike could smell the fear. In previous times he would have relished such a scent, now it was abhorrent. He held on tight just as he’d promised and watched while the demon doctor fastened Angel to the traction bed, bracing him below the injured vertebrae and at the neck and working until there was enough tension to relieve the pressure between the crushed vertebrae, at the same time immobilizing the area.
Despite the initial cry of pain and additional whimpers as various items touched or stretched areas of hurt, Spike was relieved to see his Sire in no more discomfort than before. He had been so intent upon his charge that he failed to notice the completion of the activity.
The doctor was already half way out of the room when Spike’s simple and heartfelt “Thank You” elicited a broad smile and dazzling flash of green eyes along with the ‘you’re welcome’.
As the doctor departed, Willow entered the room carrying a large bowl filled with ice that had seven vials of antidote embedded like some fancy children’s ice-cream treat at a sports game.
She placed them carefully on the side table then went back for three bags of warmed blood.
Walking in with the blood, she looked at the vampire, “Are you awake Angel?”
The dark vampire was unable to turn to look so instead said simply “Yes, what do you need?” whilst staring at the ceiling.
“Well sweetie… it’s time to start and you sort of know what we need to do, and well, Spike wants to be the one to do it. Honey you know we have to open the wound again?”
“Mmm hmm”
“And you know it’s going to hurt yeah?”
This time Angel gave a resigned, “Yeah.” Willow carefully put the blood alongside the bowl of antidote on a side table and turned, patting Spike on the shoulder as he went to continue the vigil beside his injured partner.
Spike moved in close again and purred, “So what I’ve proposed luv is that we make this pain as close to good as I can get it for yah OK mate?” With that his face changed and Willow exited the room.