A Loss of Pride by Mabel Marsters

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Chapter 14: I’ve Never Been Average

Author's Notes: Thanks as ever to Carol for her stirling beta work! -----------little nod of thanks to cordykitten, i needed something to use as an indicator ,in this chapter , of perhaps things to come (can't say more without being a spoiler) and she said something in a review that i realised would be just the thing i needed!! so thank you!!

“That’s it,” panted Spike, “No more, I’m knackered.”

“Just two more to go,” coaxed Brad.

Spike glared at him but gritted his teeth and willed his right leg to move against Brad’s grip.

“Come on, Spike, you can do it.” Brad was holding his foot in his right hand with the leg, which was bent at the knee, being supported by his left. Spike’s leg moved a little, pushing Brad’s hand back as the knee straightened slightly.

“That’s great,” said Brad as he pushed the leg back in to its original position. “One more and you’re done.”

Spike repeated the action and then relaxed with a sigh once he’d done it. Brad lay his leg back down.

“You’re doing amazingly well, Spike. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed in the physiotherapy room.

“Seems like a lot of pain and not much gain to me,” grumbled Spike. The top of the bed was raised so that he was sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Not much gain?” said Brad, “God, you’re a hard man to please. What could you do when you first arrived?”

Spike stared at him for a moment, “I could wriggle my toes.”

“And what can you do now?” said Brad, grinning as Spike rolled his eyes at him.

“I can move my legs a bit.”

“And how long has it taken to make this progress?”

“All right, point taken, piss off,” said Spike but he was smiling.

“How long?” insisted Brad, “I want to hear you say it.”

“Ten days since I came here and six since we started working on them,” said Spike sulkily but really joking.

“Honestly Spike, kidding aside, you’re doing brilliantly.” He saw Spike open his mouth to protest and so continued. “I know that it’s going to take time and that you’ll hate me for sure after all the work I’ll put you through but you’ve surpassed any expectations that I had for you in this first week of therapy.”

“’S all right Brad, I hear what you’re saying. I guess that I’ve never really had that much patience until now.”

Brad laughed, “What do you mean ‘until now?’ You still have absolutely no patience. But I’m not complaining. You’re the model patient as far as your therapy goes.”

“What? Aren’t I a model patient in every respect?” asked Spike innocently.

“No, you’re bloody not.” Brad mimicked Spike’s English accent, badly. “You’re an awkward sod.”

Spike cuffed him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t give up the day job, mate. You won’t make a living doing impressions.”

Brad glanced at Spike. He was delighted with how he seemed to be coping better these days. He seemed to relish the physio sessions they had twice a day. The physical exercise was doing his mental state a lot of good. Spike worked hard on his upper body strength as well as the exercises on his legs. Brad knew that Spike was in pain most of the time but he seldom complained. He was still on sleeping pills every night to ensure that he got some proper rest.

“Well, that’s us finished for today. Want a hand to get a shower?” asked Brad smiling, knowing what the answer would be.

“No thanks, I can manage,” said Spike predictably.

Brad worried a little about how much Spike was doing alone but so far he’d been fine. He really was exceptionally strong and that, coupled with his determination, made him as independent as he could be. Brad watched as Spike manoeuvred himself into his chair. Perhaps the nightly visits from his friend Angel were helping him? Though he’d seemed down after the first one.

“Take it easy then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“For another torture session, you git,” said Spike with a grin, “See you.”

Spike envied the fact that Brad got to go home every night. He hadn’t done more than nod to any of the other patients. He didn’t want to make friends with them. He didn’t want to hear them talking about their lives or meet their kids. So he just kept himself to himself, eating his meals in his room and never in the dining room.

He pushed himself slowly along the corridors back to his room. His room was at the front of the building in the original part of the house. It had been extended several times and there was quite a warren of corridors leading to and from the various additions. He made his way into his room and to the bathroom. The specially adapted room featured everything it possibly could to make using it easy for the disabled.

The shower had a seat so he could get from his chair on to it, sliding the door shut once he was undressed. He turned it on and washed the sweat from his session from his body, soaping himself methodically. He stared idly at his limp penis as he washed it.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to wake up anytime soon? I wonder if it’s the drugs?” he thought hopefully, “Mind you, no libido is less to worry about than if it was the other way, now that could be right embarrassing.”

He dried himself and then got dressed in the clean clothes that he’d laid ready. He pulled a face at yet another pair of sweatpants. He missed his jeans but knew that he’d struggle to get the tightly fitting things on. He shook his head rapidly.

“Come on Spike, don’t start getting all bleeding sorry for yourself again.” He told himself firmly. But it was hard not to feel depressed.

He went out into the main room and turned on the TV as he waited for Angel’s arrival. For the first couple of days after he’d begun to use the wheelchair, he’d gotten out of it to sit in the armchair in an attempt to feel more ‘normal’, but he’d decided the effort that it took just wasn’t worth it and now he stayed in his wheelchair until he went to bed.

He rolled over and opened the door that led out to the gardens. That was one good thing about Angel throwing about the cash purloined from Wolfram & Hart; he did have the best room that Rosedene could offer. He breathed in the evening air, still feeling a tingle when dusk began to creep in, a habit formed by over a century of waiting with eager anticipation for it to fall so that he could go and roam the night.

He heard the door open and turned in time to see Angel walking in.

“Hi Spike,” he said as he sprawled out on the couch.

“So what have you been doing then? Bagged any baddies?”

Angel smiled at him. He always wanted to talk about the action but since it seemed to make him happy he duly obliged, chatting away about the calls that he’d taken and the deeds that he’d done.

“Got to take an Emfonwad demon out on the way home,” he told him.

“Christ, be careful, they’re tricky little suckers,” said Spike, “I remember one time when a bunch of them got the jump on me and Drusilla in Monaco. I nearly ended up dust.”

“Well, this is just one. It’s been causing trouble in an underground garage and so it has got to go.”

“Angel,” said Spike after they’d been talking for about an hour.

“What?”

“Look, you don’t have to come every night, you know.”

“No, I don’t have to, Spike. I want to,” replied Angel. It was true, he needed to see that Spike was okay and seeming happier to assuage the guilt he still felt for letting him get hurt in the first place.

“I know, Peaches, but what I’m saying is, if you don’t make it over one night that I’ll be okay.”

“So, you don’t want me to come, is that it?” Angel scowled at him.

“No, that’s not what I said. It’s just that if you’re too busy…”

“Too busy?” snapped Angel, “Too busy to come and see my family? That’d be real rich.” God, Spike always made things difficult.

“Family?” said Spike quietly, all thought of bickering with Angel forgotten.

“Yeah? So?”

“Well…I’m not anymore, am I? I’m just…”

“Freaking irritating, that’s what you are,” interrupted Angel, “You’re family. Just because some prophecy made you human, it doesn’t mean that you’re not still my grandchilde. Although I’ve never really forgiven Dru for siring you in the first place, little dork that you were.”

“I was not,” protested Spike.

“Oh no? ‘Course you weren’t, with your little books of poetry and your fluffy hair…”

“Your sodding hair grows straight up!”

“At least you could leave your spectacles behind afterwards. I don’t think William the Bloody would have been quite so scary if you still had to peer through those. You’d never have caught a meal if someone knocked them off.”

“My eyesight wasn’t that bad,” said Spike.

Angel stared hard at him.

“What?” asked Spike.

“How’s your sight now?”

“Same as it ever was. It’s my legs that are fucked, Peaches, not my eyes,” he snapped.

“No, it’s just that if you were returned to your human form, returned to what you were before being a vampire, then surely you’d need your glasses again.”

“I dunno, I never really thought about it,” said Spike.

“I just wonder if…no…” Angel shook his head.

“What? C’mon, you can’t start and then not tell me.”

“Well, I just think that you’re Spike made human…”

“I’m not soddin’ Angel made human, am I?” interrupted Spike.

“Just let me finish,” roared Angel, “I think that you’re a human version of the vampire you were, not that you went back to the human you had been.”

“I’m not sure I follow your meaning, mate. How is one different from the other? They’re both me.”

“I’m not sure. Did you notice anything before you got yourself taken out by the Polgaras? How did you feel? I never go to spar with you but you used the training room. What was it like?”

“I felt as weak as a kitten,” snarled Spike.

“But do you think that you were stronger than before you met Dru? Or even when you were a young fledge?”

Spike thought for a moment before replying. “I wasn’t really being too rational about it all, too busy being pissed off at not being a vamp anymore, but yeah, I was stronger than before, I’m sure I was. Why do you keep going on about it?”

“You say that Brad thinks you’re doing really well?”

“Yeah.”

“So I’m thinking that perhaps if you’re stronger than normal humans that you’ll heal better than normal humans, too.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door and a nurse walked in with Spike’s meds. He took the offered cup of pills and a glass of water.

“I’ll wait until Angel goes to take the sleeping pills, okay?”

“Yes, that’s no problem at all. Just take them when you turn in.”

“Thanks, goodnight,” said Spike as she left.

He swallowed two of the tablets, leaving the two blue ones behind for later.

“Sleeping pills?” queried Angel.

“Yeah, I have trouble sleeping because of the pain in my legs during the night.”

“Can’t they do anything about it?” asked Angel, hating that he was hurting.

“Not without using drugs that are seriously addictive and since they don’t know how long I’d need them for we decided against going down that route. A good swig of JD would probably do just as well?” hinted Spike.

“I’ll think about it but it’s not going to mix well with your meds.”

“Just a shot or two won’t hurt me surely? I could just use a drink sometimes, you know?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll bring some,” said Angel, “Getting back to what I was saying before - I’m going to look into it. When you were first hurt they told me that you’d not survive the night. Then they said that you’d never walk again,” said Angel, forgetting that Spike had never been told that.

“Hey, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still not walking,” growled Spike.

“I know but you’ve got feeling and some movement. I don’t think that you’re just an average human,” said Angel animatedly.

“I've never been average at anything,” smirked Spike.

“Apart from poetry you mean? You were well below average for that,” joked Angel.

“I recall you saying that you liked my poetry.”

“I did like some of it.”

“Mind you that’s no compliment coming from you, you like bloody Barry Manilow.”

They both laughed. Angel glanced at his watch. He’d better go. Buffy would be waiting for his nightly report.

“See you tomorrow, Spike.”

“Sure will, Peaches.”

Spike watched him leave. His mind was whirling with what Angel had been talking about. Could he make a full recovery because he perhaps had a little left over from his vampire days?

“One day at a time, Spike. Just take it one day at a time. Won’t get disappointed then.”

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