Spike didn’t manage to set a foot outside the building before unspecific yet urgent messages reached him, demanding his return to the medical unit where Xander was being treated.  The fear that Xander’s condition had somehow taken a turn for the worse jolted him out of his post-traumatic daze and he was surprised to find himself alert and running in an instant, instinctively racing to Xander’s rescue, regardless of what or where.

Unfazed by the commotion when he arrived, he pushed through the people who were trying to help Xander and, prising Xander’s arm from his face, proprietarily seized his lover’s hand.  There were better ways of finding privacy: he swung toward the cluster of doctors and nurses and, full game face in place, roared for their withdrawal.

Even Bunny wasn’t about to antagonise a vampire in full-blown protective mode, and she hurriedly ushered her team from the room, keeping her eyes averted as she closed all the blinds before leaving, shutting the door behind her.

Alone now, and not likely to be bothered again for some time, Spike deliberately donned his human features before kissing Xander’s brow, laying his cheek against it and shushing, coaxing the distraught man toward calmness with gentle touches.

“What is it, Love?” he asked when Xander seemed possibly more able to answer coherently.  “What did she say?  She hurt you?”  Xander briskly shook his head, gasping to catch his breath as the initial panic subsided.  “What then?  Who?  If it’s a who I promise you they’ll wish they’d never been born when I get my hands on them.”

“It’s not…  Oh, God, Spike, what do I…”

More tears, more comfort; Spike wriggled onto the bed beside Xander and, hampered by the braces on Xander’s left arm and leg, cuddled him as best he could.

“You tell me, and I’ll sort it.”

“You can’t.  Not this.”

“Try me.”

“No, I…”

“C’mon, Petal.  Before you drown in your own snot.”  Xander gave a tearful laugh and allowed Spike to wipe his eye and nose on the sheet.  “There you go.  Bloody gorgeous, all over again.”

“Spike…” Xander’s voice trembled to a halt, but a little more concentrated comfort made him able to continue.  “I can’t…  I can’t hear them any more.  That bastard did something to me and…”

“Wait.  Wait.  You…”

A deep breath and it all came tumbling out.

“No voices.  No voices, no Saul, no Jesse.  I thought it was the zone, you were around and I assumed the voices were quiet because of that but they’re gone, Spike, they’re gone, it’s all I can do, it’s all I’m good for, and they’re gone, and I may as well have died.”

“Ah…  Fucking.  Hell.”

Spike was off the bed and pacing in a split second, Xander gazing despondently after him.

“You don’t even want to be near me if I can’t…”

“Bollocks to that, Love.”

“But…”

“I thought they’d told you.  Of course they’d leave it to me, of course they would, but I thought…  I am so sorry, Xander.”  Spike stopped moving and gestured hopelessly.  “You must bloody-well hate me.”

“Why should I…?  No.  You?  You did this to me?”

“Yes.  No.  It’s not what you think, I just wanted you to have some peace when you were waking up, peace to get better without…”

Xander’s expression turned to thunder.

“What have you done to me?”

“It’s magic.  It’s a spell.  I didn’t do it myself, naturally, I got…”

“A spell.  A frigging SPELL?”

“I thought…”

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me!”

“For the quiet.”

“Do you have shit for brains?”

“I didn’t want you to be disturbed.”

“Well, I am fucking disturbed!” Xander couldn’t stop himself shouting.  “Take it away!  Get rid of it!”

“But you need to rest.  The voices…”

“You’ll be here, won’t you, to keep the voices quiet?  Or are we done?  Is that it?  You got what you wanted and we’re done?”

“I…  I didn’t think you’d want me here.”

The tirade died on Xander’s lips.

“Why would you think that?” he asked in surprise.

“When you found out…”

Spike sighed and slumped on the foot of the bed.

“Found out what?”

A pained look was fixed on Xander for a full minute before Spike sighed again and slumped a little further.

“Bloody scam, wasn’t it.  The prophecy was one very clever con.  Created to give Ezequiel a way back.  We were well and truly set up.”

“A scam?”

“Hezekiah figured that with our resources we could find a way to get his grandson back.  Reunite that bunch of evil bastards.”

There was a long pause while Xander took that in.

“When did you know?”

“Zooza knew something was up just after you went into your grand finale.”

“I…  I think I remember.  He was shouting for the reading to stop.”

“But too late.  Soon after that…we knew it was all wrong.”  Another long pause.  Spike stood, ready to leave, unable to meet Xander’s eye.  “Sorry.”

“Um…  No.  No, don’t be sorry.  We knew how dangerous the family was together.  They needed to be kept apart, kept weak.  You did that.”

“That.  More.  I had to—”

In a flash of rage, Spike punched his fist into the nearest wall, through the plaster and into the steel frame.  Then he did it again.

“Hey, you think we can defer the mindless fury until I feel strong enough to really enjoy it?”

Withdrawing his bleeding hand, Spike stared at it, remembered his knuckles covered in Xander’s blood.

“Mindless fury.  Yes.  Whenever you like.”

Xander saw the pain, emotional rather than physical.  The guilt.  He knew what Spike would be going through, how much he must have suffered after all the promises he’d made to keep his charge safe.

“Spike…  I need you to know.  I don’t blame you for any of this.”

Spike’s attention snapped back to Xander.

“You can’t mean that.”

“You were doing what you thought was right.”

“Yes, but…”

“Why would I blame you if you didn’t know?  Why would I take it out on you?”

“You would have once,” Spike said bluntly.

“And you’d’ve let me die once,” Xander responded in the same tone, “so…?”

“I put you in danger, I almost got you—  I did get you killed, that was all my fault.”

“I made a choice.”

“No, you didn’t, this whole thing was put to you in such a way that you couldn’t turn it down.  I manipulated you.  The person you are was used against you, and inside…inside I’m sick with it.”

“You tried to stop me, remember?  When you found out how dangerous it was.  This was my choice, and I don’t want to fight over it.”

“Xander…”

“Maybe it wasn’t the scenario we expected, but…  I saw, Spike, I experienced what the Escolets were capable of.  I remember every revolting thought that the uber-nasty put in my head.  They had to be stopped and we stopped them.  It’s going on my résumé as a world-saving event, I don’t expect you to contradict that and screw with my rep.”  Spike shook his head, unable to accept that forgiveness could be so easy.  Xander noticed the shake and, “What?” he asked.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie?  For God’s sake, Spike, you know me well enough.  If I want to call you all the names under the sun, I’m gonna do it.  If I want to blame you for the dinosaurs becoming extinct, I’m gonna do it.  But for this…  No name calling.  I don’t blame you.  Manipulation and exploitation, not good, but you needed the job done.  I remember how needing the job done back in Sunnydale made me do some stuff I’m not too proud of, so I accept why you did it.  I bet it wouldn’t happen now, would it?”

“No.  Never again.”

“Okay.  We set that aside, and we’re back to why would I blame you?  I want a brilliant answer in thirty seconds or you let it go forever.”

Absolutely no way that Spike could be honest and say that it was the kind of thing that would happen simply to fuck them up, absolutely no way Spike could say that.  The seconds ticked inexorably by.

“Because it’s the kind of thing that would happen simply to fuck us up,” he blurted out at twenty-nine.

Xander beckoned him over, waiting patiently for Spike to dither across to him and take his offered hand.

“It didn’t work.”

“It didn’t?” Spike asked, a heart-rending amount of hope in his voice.

“No.  It didn’t.  We are not fucked up.  At least, no more than we ever were.  Of course, if you find out that this spell is immovable…”

Spike kissed Xander’s hand and respectfully returned it before marching to the door.

“I’ll put an end to it right now.”

“And you’ll come back?”

Spike wavered, for what felt like the millionth time in their relationship wondering where the line had been drawn.

“To keep the voices quiet, yes.”

“To keep me company, yes,” Xander contradicted.  He continued haltingly.  “Unless…  Have we got to over when it’s over?”

“Not over,” Spike retorted vehemently, and then hurried away to deal with the spell.

“Good,” Xander murmured into the silence he left behind.  “‘Cause, me…  I’m not done yet.”

…

Twenty minutes later the spell’s effects were reversed, and Xander jumped with the surprise of the voices rushing back to him.  He quickly greeted Saul, found Jesse, concentrated on the babble and relished the disruption of the previous, abnormal, quiet.

“Better,” he murmured as he closed his eye and relaxed.  “Better.  Better.”  Thus encouraged, the pleas for his attention swelled.  “Okay.  Okay.  This is…”

His relief was short-lived.  The racket was incredible, how had he ever lived with this?  Remembering all that his mentor had taught him, Xander patiently, and as thoroughly as a medium with his disadvantages could, set about rebuilding his mental barricades.

…

Xander felt quite exhausted by the time Spike returned with the zone and the peace, and he dozed while Spike occupied his time fixing the photographs he’d retrieved from Xander’s belongings to the closest wall.  Pleased with the result, and disappointed with the lack of immediate praise, Spike grumbled to himself as he turned to the puzzle book he’d also brought with him, finding a problem that looked manageable and settling down to the tedium of it.

He’d primed Dylan to fetch coffee and doughnuts, and when they arrived he placed the tray on the bedside cabinet and patted Xander’s arm until he stirred and took a deep breath.

“Is that what I think it is?  If it’s just you wearing mocha aftershave start running now.”

“Coffee.  Doughnuts.  Care of the git.”

“Aw.  Nice git.  Help me up so I don’t choke on this?”

A moment of complete flummox, then they figured out if Spike managed the braces as Xander shuffled up the bed, a degree of uprightness was indeed attainable.

“You okay then?” Spike asked as he inched Xander’s caged limbs along the mattress.  “Voices back?”

“Boy, are they back.  I’d forgotten how overwhelming they were.”

“See?  I was doing you a favour.”

“Sure.  But that didn’t stop me spending the time before the spell ended thinking up suitable tortures for you if you’d screwed up and it was permanent.”

“And?”

“First thing is, you’d have to turn me so I could persecute you for eternity.”

“I’m likely to do that, am I?”

“I know you said the company line goes against turning the…er…inmates, but you could do this in your own time.”

“Referring you to my previous comment.”

“Huh?”

“I’m likely to do that, am I?”

“What?  You don’t want me to persecute you for eternity?”

“What I want…is immaterial.  This do?  You comfy?”

“Yeah, this is great.  Gimme.  Gimme, gimme.”

Xander was handed, and virtually inhaled, his treats.  Now able to look around more easily, he studied the room, noticed and thanked Spike for the photos, and was unreservedly thrilled when Spike informed him he had several Sunnydale refugees waiting to see him as soon as he was ready.

“No worries now?” Spike asked.  “About how they’ll react to this you?”

“You were right, that was all about me, nothing to do with them.  Knowing I could have died without even getting a chance to say hello again puts it all into perspective.  I was being, frankly, an ass.”

“Well, seeing as you said it…”

“Honeymoon’s over,” Xander grinned.  “No more protecting me from myself.”

“In fairness, I always said you were being a dickhead over this.”

“True.”

Spike chose to find one of the photographs particularly interesting as Xander finished up the last doughnut and meticulously sucked and licked every trace of sugar from his fingers, not wanting to imagine, to rouse the libido that continued to survive his depression thanks, or otherwise, to the demon.

“You don’t fool me,” Xander told him with a smile, and Spike wanly reciprocated, moving to take away the tray, then sitting on the edge of the bed to brush away the last of the sugar clinging to Xander’s chin.

Close enough at last, Xander grabbed Spike’s wrist, tugging, hand skipping to the sleeve of the black t-shirt to pull him closer, then to the back of his neck to bring him closer again.  Xander closed his eye as he brought their brows together, feeling Spike lean in, hearing him start to breathe as he trembled under the weight of the crippling emotion that he’d mistakenly thought he wasn’t wearing like a huge glowing billboard.

“Talk to me,” Xander urged.

“I—”

“Can.  You will.  Please don’t let this be about me.”

“You died.”

“I’m here, Baby, I’m right here.”

“I killed you.”

“You killed Escolet.  More than that, you dealt with Dead Guy and the uber-nasty in one go, I couldn’t have asked anything more of you.”

Spike shuffled closer, arms squirming around Xander and holding him in a tight embrace, so much so that he was aware of the strong thudding of Xander’s heart vibrating through both their bodies.  His head fell onto Xander’s shoulder and he felt Xander rubbing his cheek against the loose curls of his gel-free hair.

“Baaaaa,” Spike murmured.

“What else?” Xander gently pressed.  “Who else?”

“Paolo,” came the hoarse reply after many minutes had passed.  “Paolo Roski.”

“He worked here?”

Spike gave a shake of the head that felt more like a shudder.

“Hired hand.  But I’d known him for years.  Good bloke.  Very honourable for a thug.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The rubbish I came out with, things I told you.  How could I have thought that these people mean nothing?”

“You were just trying to protect yourself.  We all do it, one way or another.”

Xander felt Spike’s attempt to pull himself together, and reluctantly let him draw back.

“What do I do?  Right now?  Counsel me, Counsellor.”

“Right now…”  Xander paused in thought.  “Did Paolo have family?”

“Just his mum.”

“Well, she’s going to be feeling very alone, and I bet she’d appreciate a visit from someone who cared about her son and could tell her what a good man he was.”

“You think?  She’s not just going to be angry and tell me to shove off?”

“Maybe.  But if she did you’d understand why.”  Spike thought and nodded.  “Offer her comfort and that’s where you’ll find a little of your own.  Don’t be scared of grief.  Hers or yours.”

“I don’t know how you cope with it.  All the time, you’re surrounded by misery…”

“No, I’m not.”

“But…”

“Do you remember how you felt when your mom came through?  How relieved you were that she was in a good place and that she still cared for you?  First and foremost my work is about peace of mind.  There’s sadness, yes, but overwhelmingly there’s joy.”

So…”  Spike stroked his fingertips over the back of Xander’s hand.  “Can I tell her about you?  Paolo’s mum.  Tell her, maybe, one day…”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.  You can go there now?  I have no idea of the time.”

“I can go.”

“Then…go.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

“This matters, you go.”

“And you’ll…”

“Be fine.  I noticed the puzzle book; I can work on the improbable now the impossible’s been dealt with.”

“If you get lonely you can call me, I’ll…”

“Spike, I have LA’s deceased in their entirety to keep me company.  There are even some living people if I get desperate.  I’m not likely to be lonely, so…scoot.”

The worried expression remained, but Spike dipped forward to kiss Xander’s cheek, then hurried away before he could change his mind.  In his absence the voices surged, leaving Xander wondering if there were any that were pertinent.  After all, as he’d reminded Spike, there were living people here, and living people did tend to draw their departed relatives.  Much more satisfying than any mathematical puzzle, Xander closed his eye and concentrated, seeking out any human-plus-spirit posers that he could solve.

…

Hours passed without Xander noticing, medical staff coming and going unobserved; it was a tap at the door that eventually drew Xander’s attention back to the here and now.  Leaving his spirits, he gestured Zooza in.

“Hey!  My saviour!”

The mage dismissed the sentiment with a foppish wave and pulled up a chair to sit at Xander’s side.

“How are you, dear chap?”

“Good.”

“That’s excellent.”

“Seriously, thank you.  I don’t know what it would have done to Spike if I’d died.”

“Ah.  Unfortunately, we do.  He thought you had, and he wouldn’t be told otherwise.”

“He…  For how long?”

“Three weeks.  Unreachable.  Yesterday, Angel resorted to physical force to make him see you, this you, alive and healing.”

Xander automatically bristled.

“Did Angel hurt him?  ‘Cause of me?”

Zooza smiled.

“Angel told me.  As far as you’re concerned, he’s always the villain of the piece.”

“We have history.”  Zooza hmmed and the smile widened.  “This is about Spike,” Xander continued.

“Spike,” Zooza sighed.  “I’m still not sure if Spike believes the evidence of his own senses, or simply assumes that you’re an elaborate hoax he’s playing along with.”

“He really thought I was dead?  That I stayed dead?”

“He refused to listen to reason.  Consumed by his own fear.  I’ve warned him.”

“I’m glad you told me.  Doesn’t look like he was going to.”

“Less about Spike,” the demon announced.  “More about Xander.”

“Me?” Xander asked, slowly diverted from troubling thoughts of Spike.

“You.  My sincerest, sincerest apologies regarding the old hocus pocus.  The proposal seemed quite reasonable when Spike put it to me, but I do appreciate how distressing it must have been, having it sprung on you like that.  You should have been told of the spell’s effects before you had the chance to become alarmed.”

“Yes.  But you’re forgiven, he’s forgiven…”

“Angel?” Zooza teased.

“Jury’s out.”

With a baritone chuckle, Zooza playfully punched Xander’s thigh.

“Vampires, eh?  Who’d have ‘em?”

“Can I ask you about what happened?  With Escolet?”

Zooza sat up in his chair, hands primly on knees, strictly serious now.

“Of course you may.”

“Spike had to kill me to get rid of him.  Now I’m alive again, is there any kind of guarantee he won’t be back?”

“The clan was all but destroyed…”

“Ezequiel.  I just need to know about Ezequiel.”

“Destroyed also.”

“You’re absolutely sure of that?”

“I am.  The only way he could be expunged from your body and made harmless was by employing the symbols on the dagger; Spike used the dagger to dispose of him.  Ergo…”

“It scares me,” Xander interrupted.  “The idea that he could come back some day, hurt the people around me.  Use me to hurt them.”

“He’s gone.”

“Maybe it makes me as irrational as Spike, but I need more.”

Zooza shuffled in his chair and fell quiet, drumming his fingertips against his chin as he thought.  Xander waited patiently, distractedly wondering about the time and hoping Spike wouldn’t walk in on this conversation.

“I could find a spell,” Zooza suggested casually, “that would make you impervious to that kind of invasion.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.  Please, yes, find me something.”

More thoughtful drumming.

“In the course of your work have you ever allowed the possession of your body by spirits?”

“No, that isn’t something I can do in normal circumstances.”

“Is it a skill you hoped to develop over time?”

“No.”

“Because this kind of spell would make it impossible.”

“I see that.  If you did this for me and I changed my mind at some point…?”

“The spell could be removed by any competent practitioner of magic.  And it could be cast by Willow if you’d prefer.”

“No, I can’t ask her.  I want to play down how big a deal this business with Escolet was, and I can’t do that if I’m asking for protection in the same breath.”

“Is Spike to be told?”

Xander hesitated, but it was actually pretty easy to answer the question.

“No.  Spike doesn’t get told.  Or, at least…I’ll decide when.”

Zooza gave a brisk, single nod, then bounced to his feet, reaching to shake Xander’s hand.

“I’ll start looking immediately, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Good.  The sooner it’s done the better.”

The mage strode determinedly off, and Xander quickly ran over the conversation they’d just shared, re-examining every word about Spike’s fears.  It made Xander’s heart ache to think that he was probably very bad for Spike and, in the light of that, how much they enjoyed being with one another was inconsequential.  Had there been signs of this before The Event?  Was this a part of why he’d insisted on over when it’s over?  Because him mattering to Spike made Spike weak and, particularly after seeing how Spike was presently suffering, all he wanted was for Spike to be strong?  Xander letting the spell be cast and returning to his home in the back of beyond was a good thing, because he would be safe there.  Safe, if a little restless, he admitted to himself, knowing it would take time to settle down after the excitement of their adventures.  But if he was safe, and Spike could be convinced of that fact, surely Spike would be stronger.

As earlier, Xander failed to notice that one of the nurses had entered the room, and he remained oblivious to all but his worries and the white noise of voices until the young woman was fiddling with the pillows supporting his left arm.

“Orange blossom and pearls,” Xander repeated the message that had been thrust to the forefront of his mind.

The nurse all but hopped on the spot in delight and, at Xander’s gesture, hurried to the chair that Zooza had vacated.

“I’d heard you could do this,” she enthused, “and I so hoped…”

Xander waved her quiet as he listened intently.

“You’re using the same church.  The same church as…Alice?  …  Yes, Alice, the church where Alice was married.”

“That’s…”

“Your grandmother.”

“Yes, and…”

“You were named after her.”  They shared a happy smile, and for Xander it was as if his world had been restored and was finally turning on its true axis.  He chuckled as he addressed the two women, in spirit and on the physical plain.  “Hi, Alice.  Hi, Alice.”

…

When Spike returned, a little before midnight, Xander had given up attempting to sleep and was propped up in bed, methodically unravelling the latest puzzle.  The pleasure that immediately lit up his face at Spike’s return quickly turned to concern as the vampire slumped into the visitor’s chair and stared, dolefully and silently, at the floor.

“That bad?” Xander asked quietly, hoping he hadn’t made a terrible mistake by sending Spike to meet the grieving mother.

Spike gave a shrug.  Then, two minutes later, he gave another.

“No,” he finally said.

Xander set the book aside and patted the bed.

“C’mere, tell me about it.”

Spike’s gaze gradually crept up to where Xander was patting, and he seemed to be summoning the energy to make the move when there was a shout from along the corridor, Angel sounding well and truly pissed off.

“I’ll have to…” Spike sighed and gestured, heaving himself to his feet as Angel arrived and stood, glowering outside the door

“Angel,” Xander acknowledged coolly.

“Xander,” Angel reciprocated without taking his eyes off Spike; the moment he was in reach, Spike was prodded further along the corridor, out of Xander’s sight-line, but still within earshot.  “Where have you been?”

“Sod off, I’m not in the mood.”

“The Vree’vathets, Spike, remember them?”

“What about them?”

“They’re your responsibility.”

“So?”

“You have to be the one to deal with that situation.”

“You could…”

“No, I couldn’t, that isn’t how they…”

“I don’t care, all right?” Spike snapped.  “I have to be here, Xander’s more important.”

“Xander is…”

“I’m warning you: one word against him and I’ll be the nastiest surprise on a dark night you’ll ever have.”

“I think you already have that one covered.”

“Then don’t…”

“I wasn’t!  Xander is recovering well, and will understand if you have to leave for…”

“I’m not going anywhere and that’s the end of it.”

“Spike…”

Spike made a visibly peeved reappearance, straight to Xander and sitting on the bed, snatching up his hand and clinging to it.  Xander was aware of Angel pausing in the doorway, but refused to focus on anything other than Spike, and he was glad when the older vampire stopped huffing and puffing and finally left.

“What’s that about?”

“Bunch of would-be nasties we’re obliged to deal with.”

“Important?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned: noisy, self-important little shits.”

Xander wriggled his hand free and brought it up to caress Spike’s cheek, feeling the lean into it, disappointed when no kisses to his palm or fingertips followed, missing the attention he’d grown used to.

“How do you feel after visiting Paolo’s mom?”

“Better.  Worse.”  Xander nodded his understanding of that.  “Tired.”

Finally, something practical that Xander could help with.

“Help me lie down?”

Spike reluctantly moved, loathing the loss of physical contact, and he manoeuvred the braces as Xander wriggled down the mattress.

“Comfy?” he asked when Xander was horizontal.

“I will be,” Xander smiled, and he threw back the covers in invitation.  “Don’t look so shocked,” he told Spike with a laugh, “just…get in here.”

Spike took a cautious step forward and was stopped by Xander’s hand gesturing for the clothes to come off.  The duster was slowly shed, but that was it.  Xander wondered about the reluctance, and if he was somehow missing something, making Spike do what he didn’t want to.

“Yeah, maybe it’s not such a good idea, having you naked,” Xander joked, giving Spike a way out, “not while me and the catheter are such close buddies.”

No disappointment; no relief.

“I’ll sleep in the chair, bring it over so the voices are quiet…”

“Do you want to talk?”

“No.”

Spike brought the chair closer and sat, hunched and miserable, while Xander deliberated over pursuing this indefinable subject or changing it.  He opted for distraction.

“Bunny came by earlier and said that they’re changing the braces tomorrow.”

Now Spike did show some interest.

“Changing them for what?”

“They’re being stripped down to the inner sleeves, so the cages go, and I can start to move my elbow and knee a little.  Did you know they’re not broken?  I thought they were broken.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Ligament damage mainly, although the knee has a chipped bone, but I’m getting to the stage when I need some physio, so…”

“Did they say why they’re not taking it all off?” Spike asked, on his feet again and around the bed, studying the arm brace.

“Support, keeping everything in the right place.”

“They putting you under?”

“Heavy sedation, Bunny said.  I don’t know how ‘under’ that is.”

“Need to know more?  I can always…”

“No, I’m fine with it.  And I’m ecstatic about the pins going, ‘cause…”  Xander indicated one of the metal intrusions.  “…is driving me crazy, it won’t stop itching.”

“You should’ve said.”

“I did, I told them, but the cream they used only lasted…”

Xander shut up as Spike leaned in closer and drooled a gob of saliva onto the offending area, squeezing a finger through the metal cage to rub it into the skin.

“How’s that?”

“Pure.  Bliss.  Straight away, I feel that working.”

“How about the leg?”

“Inner knee.  You’ll know where, I’m damn sure it glows in the dark.”

Spike repeated his actions and Xander finally got a smile out of him by groaning in orgasmic pleasure as the itching subsided.

“Anywhere else?” Spike asked, examining Xander’s skin through the leg brace.

“They were expecting me to be in raptures over being semi-mobile again, and all I could think about was having a decent scratch.  I’m good, thanks.”

Spike’s gaze flicked to the bandages on Xander’s head.

“And…?”

“Yep, tomorrow.  That’s what I’m happiest about, I guess.”  Xander poked at the bandages, crown to jaw.  “These bring back all kinds of bad memories.”

Back around the bed to where Xander was more accessible, Spike leaned in and pressed a kiss to his brow, whispering against the skin.

“Sorry.  I wasn’t there for you.  Sorry.”

Xander fumbled for Spike’s hand, finding it and clutching it to his chest.

“Hey, listen to me.  Listen.  That was a lifetime ago, and I expected nothing from you.  Y’hear?”

The reply was slow to arrive and completely unconvincing.

“I hear.”

Some determined tugging and Xander managed to get Spike onto the bed with him, refusing to accept the reluctance as genuine and only satisfied when they were back in their position of the previous night: Spike’s head on Xander’s chest, Xander’s arm tightly around him.  Together, little by little, they relaxed.  Xander wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was whirring through Spike’s mind, but he wanted to share what was in his own.

“If I look okay with the bandages off I want the girls to visit me tomorrow.”

“That’ll make them happy.”

“But only if I look okay, so you’ll tell me?”

“Course.”

“I want to seem as okay as possible.  No turban, no bag of pee, minimal hardware.”

Spike rubbed his temple against Xander’s chin.

“Want me to give you a shave?”

“I’d like that.  So long as you don’t get creative.  No Mohawk to match Dawnie’s.”  Spike agreed without a fight and laid his head back down.  “Spike…”

“Hmm?”

“You have my patch?”

Xander felt the vampire tense beneath his hand.

“Yes.”

“I’ll need that tomorrow.  If I see the girls.”

“Wouldn’t this be a good time for them to meet Xander patch-be-damned?”

“I’ve thought about it and…  I don’t want them to be reminded…”

“Like they can ever forget.”

“They got used to the patch, it’s a kind of normality.”

For a second Spike seemed about to argue the case for the Xander he’d got to know in the last couple of months, and if he were honest, Xander would have been reassured about Spike’s state of mind if he’d made a predictable if pointless fuss.  But Spike only seemed about to argue, and the moment passed.

“I’ll make sure you have it.”

“You knew to take it off me.  I appreciated that.”

More tension in the body beneath his hand, and Xander stroked, hoping to offer a little comfort.  He certainly gained comfort from it, and that was all he needed to rapidly head in the direction of sleep.  He nuzzled Spike’s hair before bestowing several kisses on his scalp, then let himself drift.

However soothing the kisses were meant to be they were like barbs to Spike, and he cringed under the affection shown.  He felt he’d been driven mad by the circumstances, or an accumulation of circumstances, or by the soul, or the unquestionable obscenity of a demon living this life, weighed down by these sensibilities.  He hated the soul, he hated Buffy, who he allowed himself to blame for it, he hated Angel who exploited it, he hated Zooza simply because he could smell that the mage had been hanging around Xander, and he hated Xander the most because he made the soul and the sensibilities…  Worthwhile.  The knowledge burned, worse than the spark inside ever had, and Spike knew he had to get away, but his movement roused Xander and the arm around him was pulling him close again.

“Don’t go,” was barely intelligibly yawned.

“I think I have to.”

“Stay.  Please.”

“This is wrong, Xander.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“I shouldn’t want you…”

“Balls.”

“…and you shouldn’t want me.  This.”

“You kidding?” Xander mumbled, adding truthfully, but with no thought, “You’re the reason I stayed.”

It was like a punch to the gut, that sleepy admission, and Spike was rigid as he took it in, appreciated the momentousness of it – Xander choosing him rather than heaven – and finally understood that Xander was not, and had never been, humouring him.  The huge knot of emotion inside him began to unravel, his body succumbing to shudder after shudder as the obstruction containing them disintegrated and a gamut of feelings swelled to the surface.  Not the time or place Spike would have chosen, but honesty dictated that this was always where it would happen; he gave up the fight, weeping as silently and privately as he could.

But evidently not silently or privately enough.

Xander was instantly awake and awkwardly attempting to turn toward Spike, to hold him more securely and offer any consolation he could.  A concerned and tender, “Baby,” was all it took for Spike to be burrowing against his chest and absolutely sobbing.

Xander wasn’t sure he understood the reason for this breakdown any better than he understood so much else about Spike and his unforeseen complexities, but he recognised the release of suppressed emotion, the necessary tears; he could comfort, and he did; he could whisper reassurances about the here and now, the both of them being here and now, and he did.

Ten minutes in and the ferocity of the crying jag eased; five minutes more and Spike was up and leaning over Xander, kissing him hard as the last tears dripped onto his face.

“Is this still about me?” Xander managed to ask between kisses.

“I’m such a fool.”

“You are if you’re mourning ‘cause of me, Spike.”  The same assurances, now loud and clear and pointed rather than whispered.  “I’m here, I’m alive.  Look at me.”

Spike reluctantly broke the next kiss to do as he was told, gazing at the face he’d come to treasure and feeling a fresh surge of emotion.

“Yes,” he said hoarsely.

“Alive.”

“Yes.”

“You saved me.”

“I…”

“Saved me.  Thank you.”

“Xander…”

Tears welled in Spike’s eyes once more, and Xander’s fingers played in the vampire’s hair, bringing him into a much gentler kiss now.

“Can you sleep, you think?” Xander asked, trailing affectionate touches over Spike’s face and neck.  “Here.  No going anywhere.”  Suddenly feeling quite exhausted, Spike nodded, kissed, settled.  “Tomorrow we’ll talk.  And if you don’t want to talk you’ll listen.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?  So there’s room for negotiation?  Spooky.”

Spike abruptly sat up, tugging the sheets away from Xander’s body, down to his hips.  He stared at the vivid scars on the pale skin, stopping Xander from pulling the sheets back over himself.

“Look what I did to you.  After all my promises.”

“You kept every promise that mattered.”

“But, you…”

“This isn’t helping,” Xander told Spike firmly, despite being intensely moved by the sorrow on his face.  Spike’s fingertips ghosted over the purple marks and Xander manoeuvred his right arm into a position where he could smack Spike’s hand away.  “They don’t hurt, they’re not a problem, okay?” he snapped as he finally retrieved the sheet.  “Any more misery, and it’s you you’re feeling sorry for.  Leave me out of it.”

“You’re right,” Spike admitted in a whisper.

“We’re done tonight.  Lie down with me, we’re going to sleep.”

“I can’t…”

“For Christ’s sake!  Spike!  Here!  Now!”

“I’m not a bloody dog, I don’t come to heel,” Spike protested; nevertheless he acquiesced, too tired to make a fight of it, cuddling up to Xander and feeling much better for the man’s honest irritation.

…

“Spike?”

“I’m asleep.  You told me to and…”

“Yeah, but I’m awake and it’s your fault.”

“Is it?”

“No, but if I say that I’m pretty sure I can guilt you into something.”

“Cheers, Mate.”

“I want to get up.”

“You can’t.”

“Why can’t I?”

“’Cause you’re wearing more hardware than a frigate.”

“Sure, but…”

“And you have tubes sticking in places we don’t want to think about.”

“Okay, but…”

“Tomorrow.  When you’re stripped down and disconnected.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever they say?”

“I promise.”

…

Heavily sedated proved to be ‘completely out’; one minute Xander was watching a hypodermic needle being emptied into the valve that was a permanent fixture on his arm, and the next he was coming blearily to, not entirely sure that anything had occurred, mainly due to the déjà vu effect that was a white coat introducing yet more drugs into the valve.

“…to counteract the sedative…” he managed to take on board, and he mumbled something indiscernible in response.

A few minutes passed and he was verging on fully awake; the first thing he saw, naturally, was Spike’s nowadays permanently stressed face.

“Smile,” he told him, and Spike tried a smile as he helped Xander drink some water.

“How you feeling?”

Peering down his body, Xander raised his left arm and tentatively bent it.  The flexible components in the sleeve quietly ticktickticked, and a grin broke out on Xander’s face.

“‘Gentlemen, we can rebuild him.  We have the technology’,” he quoted with great satisfaction as his knee stiffly ticktickticked into action.  “No puncture marks,” he noted, “was that…”

“Me.”

“Help me sit up?”

Not so awkward a move with Xander being more in control of his limbs, and he was soon upright.

“All right?” Spike checked for the twentieth time before sitting on the edge of the bed and studying Xander closely; Xander, frowning, studied him back.

“You look…different.”

Taking a moment to compose himself, Spike reached up to Xander’s face, stroking his jaw affectionately, taking courage from Xander’s appreciative smile and finally covering the left eye socket.

“How about now?”

Xander’s right hand shot up to grasp Spike’s wrist, holding it in place while he tried to wrap his mind around what he’d just been shown.  Couldn’t be true.  He was still unconscious, dreaming.  Hallucinating.  It couldn’t be true.  Because…it couldn’t be true.

“Spike?” emerged as nothing more than a stunned whimper.

“Don’t panic, Love, it’ll all make sense.”

“Spike?”

“Let me…”

Xander let Spike slowly remove his hand, and Xander could see the difference, he could see…

He could see.

His hand rose and fell, once, twice, as he tried to find the courage to explore his own face.  At last he made himself touch the socket, barely breathing as his fingertips shakily explored the convex rather than concave eyelids.  The worst of the initial shock passed, although Xander was wary of letting it be replaced by any kind of euphoria.  Not yet.  He might still wake up.  He looked at Spike.  Looked and looked.

“Is this…” he eventually ventured, apparently having not woken up.  “Is this why my head hurt so much?”

Spike nodded.

“Somehow the nasty began a regeneration of the optic nerve, and naturally the muscles were virtually atrophied in that area and needed bullying into shape.  Cloning an eye was the simple part apparently, and that’s the bit our people did.  That and the surgery to put it in and connect it.”

“Cloning?  So…it’s actually my eye?”

“You’ll need to do exercises, and put up with headaches and neuralgia for a while longer, remember to rest it for a while every day, but in a couple of months it’ll be like you never lost it.”  Spike observed, fascinated, as Xander covered his right eye then his left as he studied his surroundings.  Right, left, right, left.  “Escolet told me he would make improvements to your body.  I thought he meant a decent haircut.”

Xander smiled at that, allowing Spike to relax a little, and then he looked at Spike.  Looked and looked.

“The sight’s not as good as my right eye.  Not that I’m complaining, I…  Spike…  Spike…”  Xander’s voice was trembling again.  “Is there a mirror?”  Spike fetched the hand mirror that had been left for this very purpose.  Xander took it, held onto it so hard his knuckles turned white.  “I think…  I really think I need to do this alone.”

With a sharp nod and a neutral expression that concealed his disappointment at being asked to go, Spike left.

Xander took several deep breaths before holding the glass up to his face.  He studied his reflection, out of habit not looking directly at his left eye socket.  Even now, with this miraculous development, he had to force himself to look at his face as a whole, and…  There he was.  Xander Harris.  Despite the blur, despite the slightly lazy eyelids, after all these years of strange detachment, he finally recognised himself again.  He would know Xander Harris if he saw him, and the person he saw was Xander Harris.  He clenched his eyelids shut for a full minute, and when he opened them, Xander Harris was still there.

“Hi,” he whispered, not a terribly passionate welcome for a man who had been gone for so long, but…  “Hi.”

Gradually Xander’s eyes filled with tears, and when he could barely make himself out any longer he set the mirror aside and stopped being as brave as those around him had needed him to be when he’d been mutilated.  He no longer needed to be brave.  Yet again his life had been turned upside-down, but this time, with the eye’s return, he could finally allow himself to mourn what he had lost.

Spike waited in the corridor, impatient and cross, hearing and feeling Xander’s tears like knives to his heart, wanting to hold and comfort Xander in the way that he himself had been held and comforted in the night.  He paced and dithered, and even though he knew he hadn’t given Xander long enough to come to terms with any of this, he barged back into the room, plonked himself down on the bed and tugged Xander into an embrace.

“I want to be alone,” Xander weakly protested, unsuccessfully attempting to prise Spike off.

“And I don’t.  Stop being so bloody selfish.”

“Spike…”

“Just shut up and hold me.  It’s been a tough morning.”

Not for him, for Spike: Xander did as he was asked and clung to Spike as he was cuddled and cosseted, and soon Spike was kissing his tears away, saving the most delicate of kisses to place on the lids of his left eye, pausing there before moving to his mouth and filling this last kiss with an emotional content that Xander would later realise he’d never experienced before in his life.

“Your doing?” Xander asked hoarsely when he could finally speak.

“You were owed, Love, big time.  Angel wanted to thank you in a practical way.”

“Angel?”

“Yeah.  Wish I could take the credit, but…”

“Why wasn’t I told?”

“Because if the operation was a failure you would never’ve had your hopes built up, you’d never feel like you’d lost your eye for a second time.  If the eye had been dead when they took the bandages off today, they’d’ve taken it away and the headaches could have been blamed on the after-effects of the event; you’d’ve been none the wiser.  Would have been too cruel to build your hopes up.”

“It’s…  I…  I can’t believe it.”

“Yes, you can,” Spike insisted, picking up the mirror and showing Xander his restored face.  “And you know what?  Bloody.  Gorgeous.  Always.”  Xander knocked the mirror aside and went back to hugging, the fresh wave of tears soaking into Spike’s t-shirt.  “I like this too much, y’know, Petal: you needing me.”

“I do,” Xander agreed.

“Makes me all soft on the inside and hard on the outside.  You’ll forgive that, eh?  This once?”  Xander nodded, and proceeded to wipe his nose on Spike’s sleeve.  “Recovered enough to slime me?  Suppose that’s a good sign.”

“Recovering.  I’ll be okay.  Thank you.”

“And you.  Thank you.”

“I haven’t…”

“You have.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“What have I…”

“More than you think.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

“Okay,” Spike echoed, and his smile made Xander smile.  “Still set on seeing the fan club today?”

“The…?  The girls!  Oh, wow, the girls!  And there’s me with…!  Wow.”

Spike peeled himself away from Xander and went to where his coat was slung over a chair in the far corner of the room.  He rifled through the pockets and brought the eyepatch out, trying his best not to mentally relive the moment he’d taken it and refusing to spare it a glance as he crossed back to the bed.

“Here.”  He passed it to Xander.  “You said you wanted it.”

Xander, on the other hand, examined the patch closely, like an alien object he’d never laid eyes – plural – on before.

“Terrible time,” Xander repeated his admission of weeks ago.

“Yes,” Spike agreed once again, although not entirely sure that they were agreeing on the same thing.

Several minutes passed in thoughtful silence, then Xander offered the patch back to Spike.

“You want?”

“Don’t you?  It was a big part of your life.”

“That’s right.  It was.”

The offer wasn’t withdrawn and the patch eventually taken; Spike inquisitively cocked an eyebrow and Xander gave him a grim smile.

“The freak show left town.”

Manifestation 34       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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