A Loss of Pride by Mabel Marsters

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Chapter 5: Consequences

Hours later Angel sat there in deep thought. He’d perfected his brooding techniques over the years and was putting them to good use now. There was a very real possibility that Spike would die tonight and yet his first thought had been to get him to the hospital. Why hadn’t he just turned him? That way Spike would be healed and back to obviously what he wanted to be. Angel realised what Spike had been doing these past couple of weeks. He hadn’t been adjusting and accepting the fact that he was now human, he’d been looking for a fight he knew he couldn’t win. Angel knew if he hadn’t just happened to be in the vicinity when he had been that Spike would now be lying dead on a slab in a mortuary. Hell, he still might end the night on one. Which brought Angel back to where he started. Why hadn’t he turned him?

Angel sighed deeply and rubbed his hand across his face wearily. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t release a demon into Spike, not with him being gifted his humanity again. Angel had so longed that it would happen to him, he’d yearned for it and he would have cherished it. He just couldn’t play a part in taking it away from Spike, whether Spike wanted it or not.

“Excuse me?”

Angel looked up at the voice’s owner, a tall bespectacled man wearing a white coat.

“Are you the person who brought Mr. Williams in?”

“Uh? Spike, yeah, I brought him in. How is he?”

The doctor glanced around. There was no one in earshot and so he sat down next to Angel and continued.

“I’m afraid he’s very seriously injured. He is in critical condition but his injuries are such that we’re not sure he’ll make it through the night.”

Angel stared at the doctor in horror.

“God, I’ve killed him. By not turning him I’ve killed him once and for all.”

“Is there anyone else? Any family you need to contact? I’d suggest that you get them to come to be with him as soon as possible,” said the doctor gravely.

Angel thought briefly of Buffy, but she still didn’t know that Spike had survived the Hellmouth. Was there any point in telling her that he’d lived but now may die again?

“No, there’s only me. Can…can I see him?” croaked Angel.

“He’s out of surgery now but he is unconscious. I’ll take you up.”

Angel followed the doctor through a maze of corridors and up one level in the elevator before eventually arriving at Spike’s private room. Angel stopped short when he saw him. Spike was swathed in bandages. He was attached to two intravenous drips; one feeding in a clear fluid, the other blood, which Angel, a little hysterically, thought was ironic. He looked so small. He was hooked up to a ventilator, his chest rising and falling to its rhythmical hiss.

“Oh Jesus.”

It felt like an age before he got a grip and walked into the room. He became aware that the doctor was talking.

“Uh? Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said, his eyes unable to leave Spike.

The doctor took in the shock on Angel’s face and the extreme pallor of his complexion and thought that perhaps Angel couldn’t take hearing any more details just yet.

“It’s all right, I’ll just leave you with him for a moment or two. Come and find me in my office down the hall when you want to leave and I’ll go over Mr. Williams’ injuries and prognosis then.”

He turned to go but was stopped as a strong hand grasped his arm.

“Tell me now,” ordered Angel.

“Um…” The doctor was somewhat taken aback. “Mr. Williams has suffered very serious injuries. His right lung was punctured and that’s what has caused the problem with his breathing; but the injury to his torso was the most serious and I’m afraid will most probably have permanent consequences.”

“Consequences?” interrupted Angel, “What do you mean, consequences?”

“The weapon used went perilously close to his spine. Some vertebrae have been affected. We hope the spinal column nerve itself is intact but as yet it’s too early to say. Suffice to say the damage was severe.”

“Just tell me what all that freaking means,” snarled Angel.

“There is a significant chance that, if he regains consciousness, he will experience some form of paralysis from the site of the wound down. How severe and whether it will be permanent we don’t know at this present time, but the fact that he was moved without being placed on a spinal board won’t have helped his injuries. The first thing we need to pray for is that he wakes up, as he is so gravely ill.”

“Oh no, please no,” said Angel.

His mind went back to the time years ago when Spike had been confined to a wheelchair after the Slayer had nearly killed him. He’d hated it with a passion. And the doctor’s words hit him hard. By moving him, was he the cause of further damage? He realised that he still had hold of the doctor’s arm; he let go of it abruptly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s all right,” soothed the doctor, “I’ll just be down the hall if you need me. He’s had the very best of care. All we can do now is wait. This next part is up to him; he looks fit and strong, which will help his chances. Stay with him as long as you like.”

Angel finally walked to the bed and collapsed into the chair next to it.

“Oh Spike, what have I done?” whispered Angel, “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

He looked around the room, at the monitor indicating Spike’s heart rate, the ventilator, the drips. He knew there was no way he could turn him now even if he wanted to. Not without alerting everyone to the fact that Spike had died. Then getting the body out undetected would be almost impossible. Angel threw these rational arguments about in his mind but deep down he knew he still couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“He’ll be okay. The doctors don’t know for sure. He’s strong.”

He ignored the little voice inside his head that asked whether Spike would fight to stay alive or had he already given up?

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