Disclaimers and warnings in chapter one.
As always, a huge thanks to Wesleys Girl for the beta. :)
**
If I fall along the way
pick me up and dust me off.
and if I get too tired to make it
be my breath so I can walk
- Bent, Matchbox 20
**
Wesley held Spike close for a long time, alternating between whispering in his ear and watching Cecily pace back and forth in front of them. She was speaking in a low voice and seemed rather out of sorts with them for sitting there. Wesley gave Spike's shoulders a little squeeze and stood finally, catching her wrist.
"What are you doing?" he asked her softly. She stared at him blankly for a moment before sighing and leading Wesley a few steps away from Spike.
"Do you understand what this place is?" she asked.
"Not - not entirely, no."
"It's not exactly a place, not really. On the other hand, it's not entirely a state of mind, either. It's a place that can only be reached by people like yourselves - lost souls, so to speak." She paused, looking over at Spike's huddled form. "Some more than others. I believe he may be here quite a bit longer than yourself."
Wesley frowned. "I wouldn't leave him to face this alone. He's been here an hour and it's already driving him insane."
"I'm here," she replied, clasping her hands behind her back. "Don't you think I want him to get better?"
"Right." Wesley snorted a little, shaking his head. "You obviously aren't helping him a great deal." He frowned at her and folded his arms over his chest. He had no intention of letting her near Spike anymore - the poor man was still trembling with fear and sadness. She was watching Wesley intently, a tiny smile on her face.
"Well..." Wesley realized she wasn't going to be any help unless he asked her the right questions. "How do I get him out of here, then?"
"Forgiveness." Her voice was soft and penetrating. Wesley's small child guide had said the same thing, and he thought he was starting to understand.
"So...all of these people have to forgive Spike for killing them?" He moved to look down over the balcony at the throngs of people as he spoke. Cecily stepped up beside him, her pale, delicate hands resting on the banister.
"No." She sighed softly and Wesley turned to look at her, waiting patiently for her to continue. "They aren't real. They have no real opinions about William." She turned to look at the huddled figure behind them. "He has to forgive himself, that's how he'll find his way home."
Wesley sighed softly and turned as well. "That will take quite awhile, I'm afraid."
"You think you can help him?" Wesley gave Cecily a look that said he though he could, and she shrugged. "Many have come here and tried to help each other, but very few have ever succeeded. It's hard to help your friends when you are facing your own demons."
"What does that mean?" Wesley narrowed his eyes, though he already knew the answer.
She smiled wryly at him. "No one comes here with a clear conscience, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. You simply haven't seen your own guilt yet."
With a last, sharp laugh, Cecily snapped her fingers and Wesley felt the floor drop out from underneath him. His arms flailed out, searching blindly for purchase. He hit several people and landed on his hands and knees. People surged around him, and he instantly looked around for Spike or Cecily. A low, keening moan to his left sent Wesley crawling between the tangles of legs around him. He tried to stand several times, but found it almost impossible to move quickly enough through the people.
Spike's moans stopped, and Wesley held still for a moment. "Spike? Where are you?" He heard a soft whimper followed by a piercing scream, and began to crawl more quickly. He reached Spike and pushed people away so that he could wrap his arms around the vampire. Spike shrieked and tried to pull away, but Wesley held on as tightly as he possibly could.
"Spike! Spike, it's me, Wesley." He shook the other man lightly. "Look at me! Please, Spike..." He reached up and cupped Spike's chin, turning him and leaning forward so that when he spoke his warm breath ghosted across Spike's face.
"Spike, please listen to me." Spike shook his head, his lips forming silent protests, but Wesley put one finger across them. "I'm alive, Spike, and I'm going to help you get out of here. You have to look at me and trust me, though. You have to believe that I want you better, and that these people won't hurt you. You have to believe that I won't hurt you."
The vampire licked his lips and slowly opened his eyes, and Wesley couldn't help but notice how beautifully blue they were. He held Spike's gaze, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and stood slowly, never breaking eye contact. Spike stood with him, though he was trembling so violently that Wesley was afraid he'd be unable to walk.
He wrapped his arm around Spike's shoulders, holding him close as he searched for an exit. Somehow they'd landed in the middle of the crowded room, and the balcony had disappeared. Cecily was nowhere to be seen, either, a fact which Wesley found rather reassuring. He spotted a door against the wall closest to them, and he reached up to cover Spike's eyes as they began to press towards the exit. He didn't want the poor man to accidentally see anyone who would make him lose his resolve.
It took them almost five minutes to get there, and Wesley's hand was soaked with cool tears. He pushed the door open, sighing softly with relief when he found a small, unoccupied room. Spike's legs gave out, finally, and Wesley helped him sit against the wall before closing and locking the door, switching on the light.
It was a small bedroom, and while Wesley was hesitant to trust anything in this world, he decided to chance it. Spike had curled into a small, shivering ball, and so Wesley hurried, checking the room for any hidden people or traps. When he was certain everything was safe, he led his charge over to the bed, helping him lie down and then crawling in beside him.
Spike tried to shy away from him, but Wesley wrapped his arms around him and held him close, offering what little warmth and comfort he could. He wanted to explain, but knew that it would be lost on the poor man right then, and so he simply held him, letting him cry himself to sleep.
It was much later when Wesley finally drifted off, too.
As always, a huge thanks to Wesleys Girl for the beta. :)
**
If I fall along the way
pick me up and dust me off.
and if I get too tired to make it
be my breath so I can walk
- Bent, Matchbox 20
**
Wesley held Spike close for a long time, alternating between whispering in his ear and watching Cecily pace back and forth in front of them. She was speaking in a low voice and seemed rather out of sorts with them for sitting there. Wesley gave Spike's shoulders a little squeeze and stood finally, catching her wrist.
"What are you doing?" he asked her softly. She stared at him blankly for a moment before sighing and leading Wesley a few steps away from Spike.
"Do you understand what this place is?" she asked.
"Not - not entirely, no."
"It's not exactly a place, not really. On the other hand, it's not entirely a state of mind, either. It's a place that can only be reached by people like yourselves - lost souls, so to speak." She paused, looking over at Spike's huddled form. "Some more than others. I believe he may be here quite a bit longer than yourself."
Wesley frowned. "I wouldn't leave him to face this alone. He's been here an hour and it's already driving him insane."
"I'm here," she replied, clasping her hands behind her back. "Don't you think I want him to get better?"
"Right." Wesley snorted a little, shaking his head. "You obviously aren't helping him a great deal." He frowned at her and folded his arms over his chest. He had no intention of letting her near Spike anymore - the poor man was still trembling with fear and sadness. She was watching Wesley intently, a tiny smile on her face.
"Well..." Wesley realized she wasn't going to be any help unless he asked her the right questions. "How do I get him out of here, then?"
"Forgiveness." Her voice was soft and penetrating. Wesley's small child guide had said the same thing, and he thought he was starting to understand.
"So...all of these people have to forgive Spike for killing them?" He moved to look down over the balcony at the throngs of people as he spoke. Cecily stepped up beside him, her pale, delicate hands resting on the banister.
"No." She sighed softly and Wesley turned to look at her, waiting patiently for her to continue. "They aren't real. They have no real opinions about William." She turned to look at the huddled figure behind them. "He has to forgive himself, that's how he'll find his way home."
Wesley sighed softly and turned as well. "That will take quite awhile, I'm afraid."
"You think you can help him?" Wesley gave Cecily a look that said he though he could, and she shrugged. "Many have come here and tried to help each other, but very few have ever succeeded. It's hard to help your friends when you are facing your own demons."
"What does that mean?" Wesley narrowed his eyes, though he already knew the answer.
She smiled wryly at him. "No one comes here with a clear conscience, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. You simply haven't seen your own guilt yet."
With a last, sharp laugh, Cecily snapped her fingers and Wesley felt the floor drop out from underneath him. His arms flailed out, searching blindly for purchase. He hit several people and landed on his hands and knees. People surged around him, and he instantly looked around for Spike or Cecily. A low, keening moan to his left sent Wesley crawling between the tangles of legs around him. He tried to stand several times, but found it almost impossible to move quickly enough through the people.
Spike's moans stopped, and Wesley held still for a moment. "Spike? Where are you?" He heard a soft whimper followed by a piercing scream, and began to crawl more quickly. He reached Spike and pushed people away so that he could wrap his arms around the vampire. Spike shrieked and tried to pull away, but Wesley held on as tightly as he possibly could.
"Spike! Spike, it's me, Wesley." He shook the other man lightly. "Look at me! Please, Spike..." He reached up and cupped Spike's chin, turning him and leaning forward so that when he spoke his warm breath ghosted across Spike's face.
"Spike, please listen to me." Spike shook his head, his lips forming silent protests, but Wesley put one finger across them. "I'm alive, Spike, and I'm going to help you get out of here. You have to look at me and trust me, though. You have to believe that I want you better, and that these people won't hurt you. You have to believe that I won't hurt you."
The vampire licked his lips and slowly opened his eyes, and Wesley couldn't help but notice how beautifully blue they were. He held Spike's gaze, his hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and stood slowly, never breaking eye contact. Spike stood with him, though he was trembling so violently that Wesley was afraid he'd be unable to walk.
He wrapped his arm around Spike's shoulders, holding him close as he searched for an exit. Somehow they'd landed in the middle of the crowded room, and the balcony had disappeared. Cecily was nowhere to be seen, either, a fact which Wesley found rather reassuring. He spotted a door against the wall closest to them, and he reached up to cover Spike's eyes as they began to press towards the exit. He didn't want the poor man to accidentally see anyone who would make him lose his resolve.
It took them almost five minutes to get there, and Wesley's hand was soaked with cool tears. He pushed the door open, sighing softly with relief when he found a small, unoccupied room. Spike's legs gave out, finally, and Wesley helped him sit against the wall before closing and locking the door, switching on the light.
It was a small bedroom, and while Wesley was hesitant to trust anything in this world, he decided to chance it. Spike had curled into a small, shivering ball, and so Wesley hurried, checking the room for any hidden people or traps. When he was certain everything was safe, he led his charge over to the bed, helping him lie down and then crawling in beside him.
Spike tried to shy away from him, but Wesley wrapped his arms around him and held him close, offering what little warmth and comfort he could. He wanted to explain, but knew that it would be lost on the poor man right then, and so he simply held him, letting him cry himself to sleep.
It was much later when Wesley finally drifted off, too.