Chapter 30 – Recovery Part 2
After I blacked out outside the cabin, the next thing I knew, I was being carried. Every nerve in my body seemed to be on fire, every jolt a singular agony. I struggled to open my eyes, and found that when I did, it made no difference as I couldn't focus on anything. I think I passed out again, because the next time I opened my eyes, I saw Giles, blurred at first, but becoming clear. My eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for my girls, but all I found was Clem.
"Buffy? Dawn?" I whispered. I tried to say it, but my throat was raw from inhaling the hot smoke, and that's how it came out.
"They're fine," Giles reassured me. "They're staying with Willow until the ambulance comes, then Xander's going to bring them here."
I felt the tension draining out of my body at that. 'They're fine.' Two words that mean the difference between Hell and ... something that isn't.
"Can you manage some blood?" Giles is asking gently. I nod, deciding not to attempt speech again until I have to.
"Clem got you some A Neg. He said it used to be your favourite. Although, I'm not sure that still applies." Giles sounds like he's trying to make polite conversation, and that's something he's never felt the need to do around me before.
He lifts a mug, complete with straw, towards my lips, and I drink it gratefully. Apart from the whole business of needing it to heal, the cool liquid on my scorched throat feels wonderful.
I manage to finish that mugful and I'm half way through my second when they arrive. I hear footsteps thundering up the stairs, and I wonder how it is that two girls whose every movement is normally so graceful can possibly sound like a herd of elephants.
They come in, and I turn my eyes so I can see they're really ok. Dawn looks a little sooty, and she's still pale, but she looks fine. Buffy's not so good. She's cut, her hands and arms cut to ribbons, but she doesn't seem aware of it.
Giles turns towards them and gives them instructions. "Buffy, sit down. Dawn, will you see to your sister? She's going to need some first aid too. Clem was kind enough to bring some blood when I asked. I thought it best to fortify Spike with some first, before I start to clean him up, because, frankly, I'm not sure he'll be able to drink then. I'm amazed he's conscious now."
Dawn drags Buffy out of the room then, and I relax. Now I know they're ok, the rest of it comes back. I almost did it again. I almost failed. She almost died because I didn't listen to what my own common sense told me. I knew we shouldn't have left her at the Magic Box, but I let myself be persuaded. I could kick myself, but I decide I'm in quite enough pain.
I finish the second mug of blood, and Giles starts to get me cleaned up. When I thought a few minutes ago that I was in enough pain, I was quite serious. Now, there's more than enough. He's being gentle, I know he is, but I can't help but wince as he cuts what remains of my clothes off the worst of the burns.
Buffy comes back in with Dawn at her heels. She sits on a chair, looking towards me. I notice all this with peripheral vision only. Because there's no way I want to look at her. I don't want to see the look on her face that says I let her down. Again. I redouble my efforts not to react to Giles' efforts to dress my burns. I watch Dawn some of the time. She's smiling nervously at me, like she's scared I'm not going to make it. Maybe I should tell her. I mean, that little bint who sent me back in the first place isn't going to let a few burns spoil her plans, now is she? So, I suppose I'm just going to have to lie here and suffer.
I eventually realise where I am. It's Buffy's room. I didn't recognise it at first, and I wonder why. It comes to me after a while. It's barer than it used to be. The photos and whatnots are gone. Curtains're different too. That's why I didn't recognise it. It's the place that launched a thousand fantasies, and I didn't even recognise it.
Giles finishes and heads off to see Willow. Buffy's not happy about it, and she's not shy about letting the Watcher know. He doesn't take her objections too seriously though. I suppose he's been dealing with her long enough to know how to do that.
She's just watching me. I'm staring at the ceiling, trying not to notice that she's here, and it's taking its toll. I want to touch her, hold her. I'm aching to put my arms around her, but that's past. I can feel pain radiating from her, and I know I'm responsible. I let her down again, and she must be hating me for it. Ha! She'd better form an orderly queue behind me, 'cos I'm hating myself too.
I almost thought I could do it. I thought, maybe, if I could keep Dawn safe, I'd start to deserve her. It would atone for everything I'd done. But, what did I do? I ignored the misgivings I had about Willow, and left Dawn. She'd be dead by now if Willow's magic had worked. I don't know why the magic didn't work, but if I find out who was responsible, well, let's say, I owe them. Big time.
I think I must have drifted off to sleep, and when I open my eyes again, she's still there. Dawn's gone. I assume to bed, but Buffy's sitting in her chair, dozing. My arm's cramping a bit through being still too long, and I flex it as well as my injuries allow. The movement causes her eyes to fly open, and I wish I'd kept still. While she's asleep, I can look at her. I can't meet her eyes.
She stays all day. I know she's waiting for me to apologise, to say something, anything. There are no words. No words to make up for what I've done. Dawn comes in often, sitting for a while, chatting to me but not expecting an answer beyond a slight nod or a shake of the head. She's my anchor right now, my reason to go on living.
She sat there all day, but as darkness fell, Dawn persuaded her to go to bed. She's exhausted, and despite the blood she's had, her cuts aren't healing as fast as they should. Could be something to do with the fact that she hasn't really slept. I relax when she goes. It's been so hard to be close to her, knowing that everything's finally ruined.
After she's gone, I just lie in the silence for a while. Of course, it isn't really silence. I hear Buffy moving around. My mind immediately tries to imagine what she's doing, undressing, getting ready for bed, but I stop that particular train of thoughts before it takes hold.
Dawn comes in and sits in the chair, and I wonder at her. She doesn't seem to hate me for letting her down. Still, it's the first time I've had the chance to apologise, so I do.
"What for?" she asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
"For leaving you, giving Willow the chance to take you," I state, feeling foolish for having to say the words.
"Is that what all this has been about?" Her voice is raised, and I'm hoping Buffy doesn't hear.
"All what?" I ask, purposely keeping my voice low as a hint.
"Not speaking to Buffy, not letting her do anything for you. Not even looking at her! Do you know how hurt she is?"
"I'm not trying to hurt her," I reply. "I just can't bear the thought of seeing in her eyes how much she hates me."
Suddenly, Dawn's looming over me, and her face is livid.
"You know, I always wondered exactly why Buffy used to hit you so often. Now I know. If you weren't already hurt, I'd be pummelling your face right now!"
The picture causes a smile to hover on my lips, but it's immediately replaced by a grimace as healing burns pull painfully.
She takes the opportunity afforded by my silence to continue. "You think she hates you? How can you be so stupid? She LOVES you. Can't you see that? She's scared because you're hurt, and petrified that she's lost your love. For someone who's been around as long as you have, you're amazingly stupid."
I shake my head, and I'm embarrassed to notice that tears are leaking from my eyes. "Dawn, you don't understand. I told Buffy I'd protect you. The best way I could have done that was to save her from Glory. But I failed. Then she came back, and I tried to be what I knew I should be. I tried so hard, but the demon in me wouldn't allow it. I hurt her, you know what I tried to do, and then, rather than face her, I ran off to get myself a soul. Even failed at that, because I had to come back different. I left you and Buffy to face Willow the first time she went crazy. Buffy got shot and you nearly lost her. You did lose Tara. Then, at school, if I'd spotted those stupid partition walls sooner, you'd never have been attacked, and …."
"Now stop that!" She's not shouting, but her voice has a penetrating quality that makes me sure everyone in Sunnydale heard her. "I'm not listening to any more of this 'I failed' crap. You haven't failed me. You've saved me, more times than you know. Not just since you came back, but while Buffy was gone to. If it hadn't been for you, I'd have gone crazy, maybe done something really stupid. And, I know Buffy's got this blind spot where you're concerned, but she knows all this. She knows. And she loves you."
"That's what she said the night Willow …, but it's changed now."
She looks surprised at my words. "It hasn't changed, you idiot. And, if she said that, what was the problem? Why didn't it change things between you?" I take a few seconds to process what she's just said. The possibility that she still cares about me simply hadn't occurred to me. I go back to how I felt the night of the fire.
"I didn't ... I don't think it's real," I whisper. "She's scared. She's scared for you. She needs someone. Need and love aren't the same thing. And I can't be with her unless it's forever. I know it's more than I deserve, but I can't do it any other way."
"So that's it, is it? Because she can't promise forever, you think she doesn't love you? I've never heard anything so stupid. Did Dru promise you forever? 'Cos, I don't see her around now." She pantomimes looking round the room.
"No, Dru never promised anything, well nothing important. Dru never really loved me. She loved Angel, all I was, was a convenient surrogate. But, I can't be that with Buffy. If we're together, it has to be everything, and she deserves better than me. Sooner or later, she'll find someone better, and she'll be gone."
"So, you don't talk to her, don't look at her?"
"If I look at her and see that she hates me, I don't think I could take it. If I see anything but hate in her eyes, I'm going to beg her to hold me, and that'll be the beginning of something I won't be able to stop."
"Spike, have you told her how you feel?"
"Tried to, same night she told me. Don't know if she understood."
"And, do you think not looking at her is helping her to understand?"
I can't answer, but I know what I have to do. "I need to go home," I state.
"Home? You can't go home. You can hardly move."
"I can if I have to. I'll manage. I need to put some distance between us, give us both a chance to get our feelings sorted out. This room, it's too … "
She nods, understanding my thought even though it's unfinished.
"If I call Xander in the morning and get him to take you home, it's on one condition."
I look up expectantly.
"I'm coming round to check on you regularly. Ok?"
"No. You can't come round unless Buffy's with you. It's too dangerous. And, there's no point in me going if Buffy comes to me."
"Ok" she agrees, reluctantly. "Then I'll get Clem or Xander or Giles to check on you."
I wince at the possibility of having Giles or Xander playing nursemaid, but I agree with a reluctant nod.
It's much later. Dawn's gone to bed, and the house is as quiet as such a place ever is. I'm awake, and I wonder what disturbed me. It takes me a moment to work out what the noise is. I can hear soft sobs, and they're coming from across the hallway. I can't bear to hear them, knowing it's Buffy who's crying out her misery all alone.
I swing my legs off the bed, wincing as the injuries to my chest are stretched painfully. I stand up gingerly. I don't know how my legs escaped entirely, but they did. It's hard to walk, amazing how much you move your upper body, but I shuffle very inelegantly to the door, following my ears towards the sound.
She's in what was Joyce's room. I open the door slowly, the bandages on my hand making it impossible to do anything else. If she hears me, the only sign she gives is that the sobbing quiets. I approach the bed, realising from the contours of the impossibly small figure under the covers that she's curled in an almost foetal position.
"Buffy," I say softly. Her breathing is suddenly audible as a sharply indrawn breath, and she turns towards me.
She turns slowly, waiting for me to speak. The last time I was alone with her, upstairs in this house comes back to me. The bathroom. What I tried to do. I almost run, terrified that I'll lose control again, but with an effort and some deep breathing I manage to get my terror under control.
"I'm sorry, Love, so sorry," I tell her. I don't specify what I'm sorry for, because it would take forever.
"But, you don't love me now," she adds, her voice bitter.
I'm shaking my head. She really thinks I could stop loving her. "No, Pet. I'll always love you."
"Then why?" she asks, genuinely confused.
"Because I let you down again. I though you'd hate me because I let Willow take her."
She sits up then and flicks on the light by her bed.
"You didn't let me down. You've only done that once, and we agreed not to talk about that. You really still love me?" She sounds so vulnerable that I can't help it. I approach the bed, sit on it and take her hands in mine.
"Until the end of the earth," I promise, and I know it's a promise I'll never break.
"Stay?" she asks. Oh, the number of times I've dreamt of this moment. Of course, the dreams tended to require me to be able to actually do something about it. Right now, even sitting is agony, and the heat from her body is searing me. But, how can I refuse? I lie down carefully beside her, still dressed in some of Xander's cast off sweats, keeping out of the constriction of bed covers. I can't put my arm around her, but I carefully rest one bandaged hand on her hip.
"I'll stay until morning," I promise. "Then, I'm going home."
She stiffens at the news. "Why?"
"Because we both need some time to sort out how we feel. I know I love you, and you tell me you love me. I think we both need some time to see how we can live with those feelings, before we take this any further. It's too important to get wrong."
She nods, not speaking, but she relaxes a little. It's not long before she's breathing deeply and evenly, and I know she's asleep.
Despite my words, I know it's already too late. Whether I want to or not, I belong to her, and I know that sooner or later, she'll break my heart, and I'm scared of what I could be capable of when that happens.