A Loss of Pride by Mabel Marsters

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Chapter 25: Peaches Has Been Busy

Spike continued to make steady progress. His initial fear of the water had coalesced into a love for it. The things that he could do in the pool made him look forward to the sessions. Buffy always joined him and Brad and he loved that he could ‘walk’ with her in the water. Out of the pool however he was still frustrated by how weak his legs were, still unable to take his weight. The one thing that had changed though was that he was now certain that he would walk again. He was just impatient at how long it was taking. He worked hard on his upper body strength knowing that the next step would be to replace the hateful chair with a walking frame or crutches.

Spike turned on his side in bed, still getting a little thrill when his legs turned with him, after ignoring him for so long. They no longer took much effort to move. He smiled as he saw Buffy beside him, still asleep, looking as beautiful as ever. Last night, for the first time since she’d come back into his life, he felt that he’d truly made love to her. The increased movement in his legs and his strong arms meant that he’d been the ‘driver’ instead of Buffy. He’d delighted in the fact that it was Buffy looking up at him and not the other way around. Sure, it probably wasn’t the best coupling that they’d ever had but it was another milestone that he’d set and passed.

One thing that did worry Spike was that the constant pain that he’d suffered was beginning to ease. He hoped that it didn’t mean that the healing was stopping too. It made him doubly determined to push himself as hard as he could each day.

Spike turned over so that he was on his stomach and then drew up his legs and pushed with his hands so that he was on his hands and knees. He held himself in that position for a few seconds before sliding his legs down again. He repeated it nine times. Then he sat up with his legs hanging over the side of the bed. He got into his chair, as always taking great care of positioning himself correctly, not wanting to risk another fall. He glanced back at the bed, amazed as always at how deeply Buffy slept, before he went for a shower.

Buffy walked into the bathroom just as he was drying himself off.

“Morning lover,” she said, leaning down and kissing him.

“Awake at last, huh?” he replied with a grin, “If only I’d known how soundly you slept when I was wanting to kill you.”

“You couldn’t get into the house; vampire, remember?” She cuffed him lightly on the side of his head.

“I could’ve charmed my way into the house. She always did like me, your mum.”

He pulled her into his arms as they both remembered Joyce.

“She did always see something in you that I couldn’t,” sighed Buffy.

“Smart lady, was Joyce. Pass me my clothes pet, I’d better get dressed.”

Instead of handing them to him, Buffy picked up his sweats and walked out of the bathroom.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” he protested.

Buffy walked back in holding some clothes in her arms. “Thought that you’d look better in these.”

She dropped a pair of his black Levis, a black t-shirt and a pair of boots onto his lap. “Angel brought them when he visited yesterday,” she explained.

“Why?”

“Because I asked him to, you dope.”

“But I can’t do my therapy in these, pet.”

“You’ve got the morning off and so we’re going out. We’ll be back in time for the afternoon session so don’t worry.”

“Out? What do you mean out? Into the gardens?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed exaggeratedly.

“Out as in leaving Rosedene for the morning.”

“But…”

“No buts, Spike. It’s about time you left here for a while. We’ll have to leave once you can walk again so we may as well go take a look at the outside world now,” said Buffy firmly.

They’d discussed what the plan would be once Spike was mobile again with Brad, who said that as long as he came back daily for a session of therapy that with them being based so close to Rosedene that Spike could become an outpatient.

“Shit,” thought Spike.

He’d got it into his head that he wouldn’t leave until he could walk out of the door. He glanced up at Buffy and saw that he’d never be able to persuade her otherwise, so he gave up with bad grace muttering under his breath about bossy bints. He had to admit that it felt good to get back into his jeans. No way would he have left the grounds if he’d had to wear the sweats.

Buffy smiled as she watched him pull on the jeans. Angel had been working on something for them and now was the time to go and see what it was. Spike and Angel still squabbled like kids when he visited so she usually left them together and went for a walk; otherwise she was sure that she’d end up knocking their heads together. But it was nice to see Angel showing a more caring side to Spike. She knew that he’d put Spike through hell in the past and figured that Spike was due some compensation for it.

Spike grinned as he fastened his boots. All he needed now was his duster and he’d feel almost like he used to. Buffy accurately read his thoughts.

“I thought the duster might get in the way of the wheels so you’ll have to wait to wear that again, unless Angel has thrown it in the trash. It was pretty shredded.”

“What?” yelled Spike, “If Captain bloody Forehead has thrown it out I swear I’ll stake him!” He glared at Buffy, who was doubled over trying not to laugh. “Sod off,” he sulked, “Bloody fond of that coat.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘it’s like my second skin’,” teased Buffy, “Don’t worry, it’s safe. I even had the blood cleaned off it for you.”

Spike got into his chair, able to take a little weight on his legs as he did so, and rolled over to her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly onto his lap, pulling her back tight against his chest.

“If I could bite you I would,” he growled softly in her ear, his breath tickling her neck, “Still might.” He nipped gently at her neck.

“Bet you say that to all the girls,” joked Buffy, relaxing into him with a sigh before standing up.

“Come on then.” She ruffled his hair, laughing as he growled at her again. His growls were still pretty impressive despite not being a vampire anymore.

He self-consciously ran his hand through his unruly curls. He didn’t think his hair had been this long since the sixties. He grinned as he remembered how stoned he’d been at Woodstock, and all just by eating a few flower people. He sighed. "Yes, those were good days."

“What are you thinking of?” asked Buffy, “You look like the cat that’s got the cream.”

Spike smirked, “Only you, pet, only you.”

Buffy gave him a ‘yeah-right’ look before the two of them went to the front of Rosedene to wait for the pre-ordered cab.

Spike was grateful for the driver’s matter of fact manner as he folded the chair up and stowed it in the trunk once Spike was settled in the car. The thing he feared the most of being back in the ‘real world’, was being regarded with pity by strangers.

“So where are we going?” he asked, holding Buffy’s hand.

“Couple of places,” said Buffy evasively, “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“I’m not big on surprises, pet. Had too many bad ones.”

“As if I’d let anything happen to you,” retorted Buffy, “Rest assured that these will be of the good.”

She leaned toward him and kissed him soundly. The cab driver caught Spike’s eye in the rear view mirror and winked. Spike grinned. Definitely no pity there, a hint of envy maybe?

As they got closer to their destination Spike started to recognise the streets and knew where they were heading.

“I thought this place was closed for business,” said the cabbie as Buffy paid the fare.

“It isn’t a hotel any more. A friend owns it and lives here.”

“Kind of big for one person, ain’t it?” said the driver, shaking his head. Only in LA would someone own a hotel and live in it alone.

“He likes his privacy,” said Buffy with a smile, “Will it be you that picks us up later?”

“Yeah, it’ll be me. You have a nice day now,” he replied as he drove away.

Spike sat in his chair and stared at the Old Hyperion.

“Er…not sure that it’s gonna be easy getting me in there, love,” he said, thinking of the steps down into the foyer.

“Oh I think that you might be surprised,” said Buffy, “Let’s take a look, shall we?”

She held the door open and he wheeled himself in. At one side of the steps there was now a ramp. Spike glanced at Buffy who smiled widely back at him.

“Peaches has been busy, has he?”

“You have no idea,” said Buffy, “That thing’s not too steep, is it?”

Spike shook his head, “No, it looks like fun.” He rolled to the top of it, gave a good push and freewheeled down it at a speed that made Buffy gasp and run after him.

“Spike! Be careful!”

“Nothing to it,” replied Spike with a grin as he spun the chair around to face her.

They heard clapping and both turned to see Angel walking towards them. “Always was a show off.”

“Better than being a broody git,” retorted Spike.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Here we go again!”

“Been much action?” asked Spike, always wanting to know the details of Angel’s patrols.

“Not really. It’s been pretty quiet lately which was good ‘cause it meant that I could get some other stuff done. I’ll show you,” said Angel, walking in the direction of the training room.

Puzzled, Spike followed with Buffy walking by his side. The heavy wooden door had been replaced by a sliding one, Angel opened it and it glided silently on its rails. Spike rolled through it as Angel stood to the side.

“Nice new door ma…” His words trailed off. He glanced over his shoulder to see Buffy and Angel watching him anxiously.

He turned back and surveyed the training room, only it wasn’t a training room anymore. The old gym equipment had gone and the huge room had been partitioned off into smaller areas. Immediately to the left of the door was a kitchen with a dining table. To the right was the lounge room with comfy leather couch and arm chairs, an enormous flat screen TV on the wall and a couple of side table and lamps.

Spike glanced at Buffy again. She nodded indicating that he explore further. He rolled slowly towards the newly made rooms. He pushed open the door on the right; it revealed a state of the art bathroom, complete, Spike was pleased to see, with a Jacuzzi bath. All the fittings were wheelchair friendly. He turned his attention to the last room, which unsurprisingly was the bedroom. The bed was king-sized and covered with quilts made of sumptuous fabrics. There were also drawers and wardrobes for clothes.

Spike turned to the others, careful to keep his face solemn, “Angel,” he said, his voice harsh; “You forgot to put the mirrors on the ceiling.”

“What?” spluttered Angel before Spike’s face split into a grin.

“Only kidding, mate. Buffy would spend too much time wondering if her arse looked big if we had them.”

All three laughed.

“We figured that it won’t be long before you’re back on your feet and that you’ll be ready to leave Rosedene when you can,” said Angel, “You know how unreliable the elevator in this place is so I thought that doing this would be safer.”

Spike glanced at him and was surprised at how worried Angel was looking. “He really cares what I think of it.” Spike swallowed the lump in his throat, “It’s great. I mean it; it’s really great. Thank you.”

Buffy and Angel exchanged relieved looks; they hadn’t been sure how he would react. Buffy explained that the apartment was made wheelchair friendly so that they could come to stay for weekends before leaving Rosedene altogether. And they expected that even when he was walking again that he might need the wheelchair to prevent getting overtired or pushing too hard.

“There is one problem, though,” grinned Spike.

“What’s that?” Angel glanced round the room trying to spot some detail that he’d missed.

Spike inclined his head towards the kitchen. “I hope that I can reach the stove and such in there otherwise I’m either going to starve to death or get poisoned.”

“Hey!” protested Buffy as Angel started to unnerve her by chuckling. She still couldn’t get used to seeing non-broody Angel. “I can cook. I did Thanksgiving dinner one time.”

“Yeah, I remember that well. All the bloody Scoobies helped with the cooking and we were under siege by a bunch of soddin’ Indians…”

“Native Americans,” corrected Buffy.

“Whatever. I seem to remember that I went hungry then, too.” He grinned at her.

“Pig.”

“You’re all right. I made it so that you can use them from the chair, but they’ll still be okay when you’re back on your feet,” Angel said.

Angel knew how Spike’s mind worked and he didn’t want him to focus too much on the fact that it was wheelchair friendly. They were all confident that he wouldn’t need it for too much longer.

“Where’s my coat?” asked Spike.

“You want your coat?” said Angel.

“I teased him that you’d thrown it in the garbage. I don’t think that he believed me when I said I was only joking,” said Buffy.

Angel pointed to the bedroom, “It’s hung up in there, the cupboard on the right.”

Spike rolled over and opened the door; sure enough his trusty duster was there. Admittedly it was cleaner than it had been for years, but it was still there. He stroked it affectionately before shutting the door and rejoining the others.

“How do you feel about getting your hair cut?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” his voice belying the doubts he felt. He still baulked at being seen around town in the chair.

“Are you sure about that, Spike?” asked Angel, “Because if you are, you need to know that Buffy’s going to take you there in the Viper.”

“Bloody hell!” said Spike, “You’d let her drive the Viper?”

“I know I must be insane, she’s bound to scratch it,” agreed Angel.

“Standing right here,” reminded Buffy.

Spike reached out and squeezed her hand. “Just try not to kill me, pet. That’d be too bleedin’ ironic.” He grinned at her.

She tried to pull her hand away but he held it tightly until she stopped resisting and chuckled instead.

“Okay, fair point, cars and Buffy unmixey things. But I have driven in Rome this past year and they drive worse than me over there so I have improved a bit simply through self-preservation.”

“Well, I’ll risk it. I can’t leave my hair to get much longer or else I’ll need to wear it in pigtails,” quipped Spike.

“Okay, I’ll go and get the car,” said Buffy.

Angel tossed her the keys, which she caught with panache, and she hurried away to bring the car to the front of the building. Spike and Angel looked at each other for a while before they followed her out of the apartment that Angel had made, both seeing things in the other that they’d never noticed before. Spike still couldn’t believe how good Angel was being to him. They’d been through a lot together and they’d been the only ones left standing at the end, so Spike thought that was why Angel was doing the whole ‘look after my grand-childe’ thing. Angel could sense in Spike a new hope and a determination to get well that he knew wouldn’t be thwarted. Spike’s love for Buffy shone brighter than his love of Drusilla ever had, and even though it still hurt a little, he found that he couldn’t begrudge either one of them their relationship. Especially now that Spike was human again – well, more or less.

0000000

Buffy had researched which hairdressers to go to thoroughly. She’d used the phone in Moira’s office to call several up, finding the one with the easiest access for Spike’s chair. She’d also avoided ones with male stylists, guessing that Spike would prefer to have a girl messing with his hair than a man. What she hadn’t thought of was how to fit Spike’s chair into the Viper. It was easier said than done but she eventually managed to get it in and they drove away. Angel winced as she over-revved the engine.

They had to park down the street a little way from the salon. Buffy wrestled the chair out of the car, unfolded it and set it near to Spike. He expertly put it in the right place and lifted himself into it. He glanced around as Buffy locked the car. After being at Rosedene for so long it seemed strange to see regular people going about their business. He looked up at Buffy, who was watching him, making sure that he was okay. He winked to reassure her and started to propel himself along the sidewalk. Neither of them noticed the figure watching from the shadows, staring at them in disbelief.

“Spike,” it uttered.

Once Spike was safely in the hands of the stylist, Buffy sat on one of the couches and relaxed. Spike seemed to be coping well with his little trip. She picked up a glossy magazine and sipped at the coffee she’d been given. She was lost in the world of celebrity gossip when she heard someone clearing their throat next to her. She looked up and smiled. There was her Spike back in all his glory.

“So you wanted a change then?” she chuckled, gazing at his once more brilliant white hair, cut short and slicked back from his face.

“If something works why alter it?” He smirked. “Anyway, Patri over there says that I look wicked sexy and that it emphasises my lovely blue eyes.”

Buffy glanced over Spike’s shoulder to see the girl at the counter eyeing Spike appreciatively.

“I think that you’d better go and pay her, pet, though I reckon she’d settle for a kiss or two,” joked Spike, ducking his head out of the way of Buffy’s hand as she tried to mess up his hair when she went past on her way to pay.

As they made their way back to the car for once Spike let Buffy push him. It was only because she did it by leaning over with her arms around his shoulders all the while nuzzling at his neck.

“This thing should have a little shelf on the back. Then I could stand on it as just push it with a foot like a skateboard,” giggled Buffy.

“Good God, woman, then you really would kill us both,” joked Spike.

He was feeling pretty good. Patri had come on at him big time and had never even seemed to notice the chair. Although he loved Buffy and would never wander, it hadn’t done his ego any harm to be flirted with by a hot young girl.

They drove back to the Old Hyperion, arriving just as the cab pulled up. Buffy gave Angel back his mercifully undamaged car and then they got into the cab for the journey to Rosedene.

Neither of them noticed that the cab was being followed.

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