Chapter Twenty-three: Into the Light

The light was blinding, hurting his eyes. Instinctively, he recoiled. For one glorious moment, he thought he was a vampire again. And then he realized, no, his head just hurt.

Spike forced his eyes open a small fraction and peered out at the world before him. He was in Buffy's room - that much he could tell - a steady stream of sunlight pouring in through the sheer curtains. Even though the lights were off, it was too bright by half. He wanted to scream.

He closed his eyes again and waited for the throbbing in his head to die down. It didn't. Neither did the aches and pains in the other parts of his body. Damn bloody poofter! Who the hell did he think he was, coming to town and beating him to a bloody pulp? What kind of hero did that make Angel anyway? Pulverizing a defenseless human? Spike tried to snort in disgust, but ended up choking.

Instantly, Buffy came running into the room. "Are you all right?"

Sitting up in the bed now, he turned his bowed head to stare at her. "What the hell happened?"

"You passed out." She crossed over to the bed and sat down beside him. "How do you feel?" she asked, placing a gentle hand against his bruised chest.

"Been better, pet," he said, watching her curiously, mesmerized by her face.

"We patched you up the best we could. Believe it or not, nothing was broken. Just a lot of soft tissue damage. You know, if you're Slayer long enough, you sort of become your own medical expert?"

"Is he gone?"

Buffy began tracing a light pattern on his chest with her fingertips. She seemed fascinated by his flesh. "He's gone. Back to LA."

"Do you know why he . . .?"

"Yes." She looked up at him. "I know. He told me."

Spike pulled his eyes away from hers and looked down at the hand that was touching him. "Is that all right with you? Are you really okay with . . .?"

"Yes, Spike, I am. I wouldn't be with you if I wasn't. A lot has changed," she said, as she slid her hand up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "I forgive you, you know that. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Buffy . . ."

"Shhh," she whispered, bringing her mouth close to his. "Don't. It's all right." Buffy placed a gentle kiss against his lips and then pulled back. "You really need to get your rest."

She got up from the bed and helped him lay back down, adjusting his pillows and making sure he was comfortable. Spike didn't want her to leave. He needed to be with her, needed to talk with her. He felt like an invalid. He was feeling more useless than ever.

"Buffy, luv," he said, as she turned to walk away.

"Yeah, Spike?" she asked, as she turned back to him, and pulled a chair up beside the bed.

He breathed a small sigh of relief. "Nothing, nothing."

With great effort, he shifted over on the bed and motioned for her to lie down next to him.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He simply reached out and pulled her closer in answer.

The chair forgotten, Buffy laid down beside him and rested her head against his bruised chest.

Spike suppressed a shocked gasp as her soft body made contact with his battered one. He could feel every cut, every bruise as if it were being freshly made. But he didn't care. If he could have Buffy beside him, he would endure all the pain in the world. He just wanted to feel her close to him, even if it meant more suffering. He'd go to hell and back for her, if he had to. Nearly had. Anything for Buffy.

"Are you all right?" she whispered, as she repositioned herself slightly, trying to make him more comfortable.

"Fine. Just fine luv," he said, gently stroking her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in her scent.

He had been beaten. So, Angel hadn't exactly won the battle, still it barely seemed like a victory. Now it was going to take him forever to heal.

"I think you surprised Angel," she said absently.

"Come again?"

"You stabbed him in the chest. He wasn't . . . exactly . . . expecting that. You were wonderful you know?"

"What? How was I wonderful? Nearly got my insides torn out by that soddin' poof."

Buffy laughed a little. Spike felt it reverberate through his entire body.

"But you didn't. You fought him and lived to tell the tale. You beat a master vampire and . . ."

"Master vampire my ass! The only thing that ponce is a master of is causing trouble, sticking his bloody nose in where it doesn't belong."

She raised up on her elbow and turned to look at him. "And if he hadn't have, you wouldn't be here."

Spike stared into her soft hazel eyes and felt his heart break. She was right. He hated Angel, but without Angel, they would never have been given this second chance.

Spike pulled in a steadying breath and raised a weak hand to caress her cheek. "You really want this?" he asked.

"Yes Spike, I do. I want you. Not beneath me, but beside me. Always."

A small smile tugged at Spike's lips, in spite of the pain.

Buffy leaned down and gave him a small kiss. "Get some sleep Spike. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" he asked, his eyes already closed.

"A new day."

She leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on his freshly scarred eyebrow. He was asleep before the kiss ended.

END