Changing Lives by Mabel Marsters

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Chapter 47

Joyce was waiting in the arrivals hall for Rupert to come through. She’d managed to persuade Buffy to stay at home.

“Rupert!” she called as she spotted him and waved.

“Joyce! What on earth are you doing here? Oh good Lord, has something happened to Spike?”

“I’m afraid it has, but he’s okay,” she said quickly.

She went on to fill Rupert in on the details when she became aware of a short stocky boy hovering nearby. Rupert followed her glance.

“Oh goodness! I’m sorry, Richard. Joyce, this is Spike’s friend from England, Richard. I mentioned he was coming to stay for a while as a surprise for Spike. Richard, this is Joyce Summers, Buffy’s mom. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about Buffy,” he joked.

“Yeah, I ‘ave,” said Rich with a grin, “’Ello Mrs. Summers. Is Spike really okay?”

“Hi. Richard, I’m sure Spike will be delighted to see you. I’ve arranged that we can stop in at the hospital to see him on the way home,” said Joyce.

“That’s very kind. Thank you,” replied Rupert.

Oooooo

Rupert’s heart missed a beat as he saw Spike lying in the hospital bed. Unpleasant memories of the summer came to the fore.

“Spike,” he said softly as he sat in the chair near the bed.

Rich stood beside him with Joyce hanging back a little. Spike opened his eyes. He was resting on his side facing them, the comfiest position he could find. He looked at them both vaguely.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“Oh my God!” exclaimed Rupert in a panic. He glanced at Joyce; why hadn’t she told him this? Then he heard a snicker and spun back around to see Spike grinning broadly at him.

“That is not funny, Spike, not funny at all!” snapped Rupert.

“I’m sorry,” chuckled Spike, “I’ve been bored waiting for you to get here and I couldn’t resist it. I nearly couldn’t keep it up when I saw you, Rich. Wot are you doing here?

“I’m ‘ere fer a week. We didn’t tell yer so it’d be a surprise but wot is it wiv you and hospitals, mate?”

“Tell me about it, and before yer ask yer stupid question, yeah it does bleedin’ hurt, okay?” joked Spike.

“Is yer ‘air normally pink?” asked Rich.

“Wot?”

“Yer ‘air. I know yer said you’d bleached it but yer never said anything about it being pink.”

“It’s not soddin’ pink,” protested Spike.

“I’m afraid it is rather,” said Rupert, relieved to see that Spike felt well enough to be joking with them, “I think the cut on your head must have bled quite a lot and they haven’t made a very good job of cleaning it up.”

“Shit,” said Spike, “Buffy’s seen me with pink hair!”

Joyce had walked closer to the bed as they were talking, “I don’t think that she was noticing the colour of your hair. She was concentrating more on willing you to wake up.”

“You’ve got to get me out of ‘ere tomorrow, Rupert. I don’t want to stay in any longer than I really ‘ave to. Especially now Rich is ‘ere,” pleaded Spike.

“I’ll see what I can do. We’d better go. We’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Rupert. I’m sorry if I scared you,” said Spike.

Their eyes met and they both knew that they were thinking of their losses in the summer. Rupert put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“I’m just glad that you’re going to be all right. Goodnight.”

As Spike watched them leave he thought about what had happened to him.

“Dead, English, you’re fucking dead.”

Angel’s words rang out in his mind.

“No, surely it wasn’t him? The doc said I’d been lucky not have been killed. Surely Angel hadn’t really meant to do that?”

He shuddered. Not a pleasant thought, that someone might actually want you dead.

Ooooooo

Rupert and Rich were at the hospital as early as the doctors would allow. Rupert went to talk to Dr. Harper about the possibility of Spike’s release and Rich wandered through to see Spike.

“Hi, mate, ‘ow yer doin’? Yer look a bit rough,” he said, sitting down next to him.

“Hi, Rich. Well, you’d look crap if you’d been hit with a bleedin’ baseball bat,” said Spike with a grin.

The truth was he felt terrible. His head was throbbing and his back…let’s just say that the mere thought of getting out of bed filled him with dread. But there was no way he was staying in if he could help it; he’d had his fill of hospitals.

After about ten minutes Josie came into the ward.

“Well, it looks like you’ve made it. Dr. Harper’s agreed to let you go home,” she said.

“That’s great,” said Spike in relief.

“So I just need to give you a painkiller before you go.”

Spike turned onto his back and offered his arm for her to access the vein.

“You’ll have to turn back over. This one goes into your butt.”

Richard burst out laughing.

“You can shut up!” said Spike, rolling over, “Ow! Bloody hell!”

“All done,” said Josie, “Sorry it stung a bit but it’ll really help you.”

“Thanks, I guess,” replied Spike.

“Morning, Spike. Ready to get out of here?” asked Rupert as he walked into the ward.

“Hi, I am. But I’m really hoping I’ve got some clothes. I don’t fancy leaving in this with my ass sticking out of the back of it.”

“I dunno,” said Rich, “I reckon that nurse wouldn’t mind. I think she enjoyed the view when she jabbed you.”

“You wait, I’ll get yer back, yer sod.”

“I brought you some clothes from home and I’ve got what you were wearing yesterday in here.” He held up a paper bag.

“Hang on a minute, where’s my duster? It can’t be in there, it’s not big enough.”

Rupert looked in the bag.

“No, it’s not here. There’s your boots, jeans and shirt but that’s all.”

“Oh shit, they’ve stolen my bleedin’ coat.”

“I’ll just go and double check that it isn’t here whilst you get dressed,” said Rupert as he walked away.

Spike gritted his teeth and pushed himself up until he was sitting. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, feet dangling.

“Can yer pass me my jeans, Rich?” he asked.

In the end Rich helped Spike to get dressed as his back was so painful he couldn’t bend very well.

“Look, don’t tell Rupert how bad I am, okay? I don’t want him to worry.”

“’S all right, mate, I won’t. Surely yer must ‘ave some idea who did this to yer?”

Spike spotted Rupert returning.

“Not now,” he whispered.

“You didn’t have your duster on when the paramedics arrived. They’ve just checked with them. Are you certain that you were wearing it?”

Spike raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, silly question, of course you were.”

“The bastard must have stolen it.”

“No need for that language, Spike,” chastised Rupert half-heartedly. He knew Spike would be devastated at its loss and was pleased that Rich was here as a distraction for him.

Rich looked at Spike anxiously, knowing that Spike treasured the jacket because it had been James’. Spike blinked quickly several times, embarrassed to find he was close to tears.

“Christ, yer could ‘ave been killed, Spike. It was only a bloody jacket - get a grip.”

“So can I get out of ‘ere?” he asked quietly.

“Richard, can you go and get a wheelchair please? I’ve been given strict instructions that he has to be taken to the entrance in one.”

“Sure thing, Mr. G,” said Rich and he set off at a jog.

Rupert put his hand on Spike’s shoulder.

“Thank God you’re all right, Spike,” he said, his voice cracking somewhat.

“Yer can’t get rid of me that easily,” joked Spike.

Rupert managed a smile at that. “And nor would I want to. My life would be far too boring without you in it.”

Rich arrived back with the chair. They both watched aghast at how slowly and painfully Spike manoeuvred himself from the bed into the wheelchair.

“Jeez, mate,” breathed Rich.

When they got to the entrance Spike refused to wait until Rupert brought the car to him.

“’S okay. I can see the car - it’s not far,” he said, quashing their protests.

Halfway to the car he started to regret his bravado. His steps were slow and stiff. Sweat was breaking out on his brow by the time he got into the car. He sat down with a groan.

“What was it that Josie said? That the injection would help? It can start any time it bloody well likes.”

Ooooooo

Spike’s thoughts were heeded; by the time they got home the painkiller had really kicked in, much to his relief. He settled in one of the armchairs whilst Rupert went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

“I can’t believe yer never told me that you were coming,” said Spike.

“I nearly slipped up a couple of times,” grinned Rich, “I ‘ope yer get back on yer feet soon. I don’t want to miss out on seeing all the hot California birds.” His eyes twinkled.

“You’re impossible. I’ll take yer out, don’t worry. I just might be a bit slower than normal. Anyway, I thought you were seeing Emma.”

“I am, but it’s not like she’ll ever find out, is it?” replied Rich.

“God, Rich, that’s bleedin’ terrible,” admonished Spike.

“Aw, c’mon, I’m on holiday – it’s allowed.”

Spike shook his head. Since he’d first met Rich he’d had a succession of girlfriends, all falling for his sweet talking ways but none lasting very long - mostly due to the fact that they found him with someone else.

“Yer a git, Rich, a total git.”

“Wot? Are yer telling me yer wouldn’t do it?”

“That’s right, I bleedin’ wouldn’t. I’m a one woman man.”

“And that would be Buffy?” asked Rich.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” replied Spike earnestly, “I love her, Rich, I really bloody love her.”

“God, that’s a bit deep fer this time of the day. I’ve loved loads of girls – it’s no big.”

Spike thumped him on his arm.

“You’re impossible. But I don’t just ‘love’ her, I’m ‘in love’ with her. I have been for years - yer know that - and after yesterday…” he let his voice trail off.

“Wot? Her rushing to yer bedside?” asked Rich. He stared at his friend, “Oh God, yer mean yer…”

Spike glared at him and shook his head as Rupert reappeared, putting plates on the table. Luckily it worked and Rich shut up.

“Breakfast is ready, boys.”

Ooooooo

“Can I phone Buffy please?” asked Spike after they’d eaten.

“Of course you can. She’s at the gallery with her mom. Joyce gave me the number yesterday. I promised her I’d call so I’ll have a quick word with her first and then you can talk to Buffy.”

After telling Joyce of Spike’s release, and thanking her once more for her help the previous evening, he passed the phone to Spike.

“Richard, can you help me to make up your cot in Spike’s room please?” said Rupert, correctly guessing that Spike would prefer not to have an audience.

“Hey Buffy.”

“Spike, how are you feeling?”

“Um…I’m bloody sore, truth be told.”

“God, I was so scared when I saw you getting loaded into the ambulance.”

“Sorry, pet,” said Spike softly.

“It’s not your fault, is it? You dope! There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“So how did you come to see me? I think I was almost home, wasn’t I?”

“Er…well Cordelia and Xander turned up at my house. She said that Angel was trying to find you. Did you see anything?”

“No,” said Spike slowly, “but I reckon he must have found me.”

“You’ve got to tell the police. He could have killed you.”

“But I didn’t see him, Buffy. I can’t tell them I did if I didn’t and I don’t reckon they’ll take much notice of me saying he was out to get me.”

“He can’t just get away with it,” said Buffy.

“I know but unless there was a witness, he will. The bleeder took my duster too,” said Spike.

“Look, I’ve got to go, the gallery is really busy. I’ll see you tonight - we’re still coming round for dinner. I love you.”

Spike’s heart swelled as she said that. “I love you too.”

Ooooooo

Just as Spike put the phone down after speaking to Buffy it immediately rang again.

“Hello?”

“Spike! You’re there. Xander called and said that you’d been beaten up and were in the hospital. But you’re obviously not now so what’s going on?” babbled Oz in a most unusual – for him – manner.

“Hi, Oz, “said Spike with a smile, “Xander was right. Apparently I was hit by something like a baseball bat, once on my back and once on my head. I did go to the hospital but Rupert sprung me this morning.”

“But are you okay?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be touching my toes anytime soon and my head’s throbbing fit to burst but other than that, yeah, I’m all right.”

“Who did it?”

“I didn’t see,” replied Spike, “But according to Cordelia, Angel was out looking for me.”

Oz was silent as he tried to take in the implications.

“Oz?”

“Yeah, I’m still here, but man, hitting you around the head - he could’ve killed you.”

“The thought had occurred,” said Spike soberly.

“So, I’ll see you tonight then?” said Oz.

“Um…we’ve got Mrs. Summers and Buffy and …” started Spike.

“For dinner, yeah I know. Mr. Giles invited me too. It’ll be great to finally meet Rich,” interrupted Oz.

Spike chuckled, “Was it only me that didn’t know Rich was coming to stay?”

“I think Mr. Giles said he’d told Mrs. Summers, but apart from that just me. He only told me because he’s useless with computers and so I’ve been e-mailing Rich for weeks for him.”

“Good to know that I’ve got such sneaky friends.”

“Look, Spike, I’ll call the Bronze and cancel our gig on New Year’s Eve.”

“No way, Oz! I’ll be okay. The Dingoes aren’t missing that,” replied Spike, even though he knew he’d still be hurting.

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