Author:  PSUbrat
Rating:  PG-13 Some language and violence
Disclaimer and spoiler warning:  All characters, except Geoffrey, Garrick and Bronwyn, belong to Joss Whedon and whomever else he sells them to, I'm just borrowing them for a while.  This story is based upon the alternate universe I created in Reset
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Summary:  Spike wakes to news from Sunnydale and Giles thoughts on what he's become…
Timeframe:  Immediately following "The Other Side of Paradise"

CHAPTER 7 – FAIRYTALES AND PROPHECIES

Giles quietly closed the guestroom door behind him before heading back to the lounge room.  It was important that he leave soon for the meeting.  It would be hard to explain his tardiness or even absence to Quentin who would badger him with question after question until he received a satisfactory explanation.  Even if he told the senior watcher the truth, chances were he'd be laughed out of the room.  He would have to tread lightly where the Council was concerned, especially with his past transgressions.  It wasn't like he could make demands – or could he?  He'd have to pick and choose his battles carefully and tonight would not be one of those times.  He needed to make sure that the newly found prophecies pertained to Dawn and Buffy first.  Wearily he leaned against the wall, glasses in hand, and sighed.  It had already been a long day and, if he was right, it was going to be an even longer night.

"You look exhausted," Doc said, walking towards Giles.  He paused, waiting for a response from the Watcher.  When none came, he placed his hand on Giles' shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.  "You've done what you can.  He'll survive."

Giles smiled slightly.  "Yes, I know.  Thank you very much.  I'd hate to think what would have happened if you had not been available on such short notice…"

"No need to worry about that, now is there?  I was home when you rang and I was able to help."  He paused, considered his words and then continued.  "What are you going to do now?  With him, I mean."

"I suppose he'll have to remain here until he's properly recovered…"

"I don't think that will take long," Doc responded with a frown.  "There's something odd about him."

"Odd?"  Giles asked, eyebrows arched, his interest piqued.  He thought he'd been the only one to sense that there was something a bit off about the new human lying in bed in the next room.

"I've seen a lot of things over my lifetime, a lot of oddities and what not, but I've only ever seen something like this happen in two types of beings."

Giles folded his arms across his chest.  "What did you see?"

"At first I thought my eyes were deceiving me, I am getting up in years after all, but then I saw it again, just a small amount, but it was still there."  He paused, rubbing his chin, deep in thought.  Slowly, he looked up at Giles.  "I had no sooner removed the chip from the brain when the surrounding tissue began healing.  Rupert, I've only ever seen this type of healing before from vampires and slayers, of which he is neither.  What is going on?  How did he get like this?"

"Yes, that does seem to be the question on everyone's mind, doesn't it," Giles replied, slowly making his way to the sofa.  He sat down and leaned back against the cushions.  His mid-section ached from where Spike had punched him hours before.  How much should he tell Doc?  Where should he start?  Well, it was too late now.  Doc was entrenched in this just as deeply as he was; there was no turning back.  "Apparently, Spike went in search of a soul and wound up human instead.  I know how that must sound…"

"He's more than human, Rupert.  It's most incredible."

"Quite," Giles stated.  Casually he looked down at his watch to look at the time.  Almost eight o'clock.  It dawned on him that he should be leaving for his meeting instead of sitting here, having this conversation.  "I should probably make myself presentable before heading out."

"Are you sure you can't postpone the briefing?"

"No.  You know as well as I do that it would just raise more questions than we have answers to, at least at the moment.  I'm afraid I must go and play the dutiful Council member."

Doc nodded in understanding.  "Just be careful, Rupert.  Quentin has a way of knowing things that he shouldn't."

"Quite right," Giles replied as he stood and made his way towards the bathroom to clean up.  "Thank you for the concern.  I shall keep my wits about me, as always, where Quentin and the elders are concerned."  While he washed his face and then tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie, his earlier thoughts about Spike returned.   "Gerald?"

"Yes, Rupert?"  Doc inquired, standing in the doorway.

  "I have a theory about our patient that I'd like to run by you…"

"Which is?"

Giles turned around and met Doc's gaze.  "Truthfully?"

Doc nodded for him to continue.

"I won't be able to test it until he fully recovers, but I think," Giles said, taking a deep breath.  "That he's something that we've only ever read about and never believed."

"I'm not sure I understand.  What do you mean what we've read?  Where?"  Doc asked with a frown, trying to think of what it was Giles was implying.

"The ancient texts and prophecies dealing with Slayers…"

"Wait!" Doc exclaimed.  "You don't mean that he could be…"

Giles nodded, face serious.  "I do."  Ignoring the questions that started to pour from Doc's lips, he left the bathroom and walked over to the table in the foyer, slowly picking up his keys, obviously lost in thought.  "Please keep an eye on him while I'm gone."

Doc took the cue to discontinue his interrogation.  "Don't worry about a thing, Rupert, I've got it under control.  Go to your meeting with Quentin."

"Thank you, Gerald.  I'll be back as soon as possible."

Once Giles reached the elevator, Doc closed the door and locked it behind him.  Craning his neck to look down the hallway, he thought about the patient behind the far door and raised his eyebrows in wonder.  This was definitely shaping up to be an interesting evening.


Spike felt, more than saw, Doc's presence in the somewhat darkened room.  When he did open his eyes, he noted that the man in question was sitting in a chair by the window reading a book, a small lamp illuminating his features and making him appear much older than his years.  His mind knew that Doc hadn't been the one to inflict the injuries on Dawn, but every part of his being wanted to strangle the life out of him none the less, make him pay for giving Buffy no choice but to sacrifice herself.  If Buffy had never died – if he had only fulfilled his promise to protect Dawn – then none of the pain the Summers girls had endured over the last year would have happened.  If he had just defeated the shape-shifter…If Doc hadn't been stupid enough to get caught in the first place, things would have been so different.  Buffy wouldn't have died, Willow wouldn't have had to resurrect her, sending the red head on a power trip and causing her and Glinda to break up; Dawn wouldn't have turned klepto and Buffy wouldn't have lowered herself to be with him.

"No use dwelling on it," Doc said, never looking up from his spot by the window.  "You can't change the past, unless you know a good vengeance demon, and even then, there's no guarantee that she'll get it right."

"How'd you know what I was thinking?  You some type of mind reader?"

Doc laughed heartily, marking his spot in his book and then slapping his hands on his knees in amusement.  "No, not at all.  I've just been listening to your rantings for the last two hours."

"Oh," Spike replied sheepishly, closing his eyes again and settling back against the feather pillows.  Just great.  He could just imagine what he had been babbling about.  Two hours was a long time.  "Probably know my entire life story then…"

"Your life story is fascinating, Mr. Spike, but I didn't hear it from you.  I've read Lydia's thesis as well as the Watcher journals.  I'm well aware of who you once were.  What I'd like to know is…who are you now?"

"Wish I could tell you, mate.  Not sure myself."

Doc sat back in the chair, crossed his legs and folded his arms over his chest, trying to look casual in the presence of William the Bloody.  "So, you're in love with Buffy."  It was more of a statement than a question.

Spike's eyes widened in surprise at Doc's comment.   "I, uh, don't know what you mean…"

Doc ignored Spike's protest and continued.  "From the sounds of things, you have been for a very long time."

Well, no use in denying it, he supposed.  He probably moaned her name in his delirium more than once.  Bugger it all.  "So what if I am," Spike sneered.  "My business, not yours."

"What is it with you vampires and her?"  Doc asked curiously.  "None of the previous Slayers dallied with their enemies."

"Not that the Council'll tell you anyways.  I'm sure the books have been cleaned up, that and most Slayers never lived as long as this one."

"Perhaps you're correct.  Quite understandable that they wouldn't want future generations to know about such things, don't you think?  So tell me, Mr. Spike, these changes you've gone through, were they for her?"

"Again, that's none of your business."

"I see.  Well then, was it worth it?  I'm just curious because now that you're human, I don't see you running off to be with the woman of your dreams."

Spike turned his head, glaring at Doc, but said nothing in response.  After a few moments, he looked away to stare at a spot on the ceiling, hoping the conversation was over.

"You really have it bad," Doc said with a grin.  "It's amazing what people, and demons alike, will do for the love of a good woman.  She is a good woman is she not?"

"The best," Spike replied.  He could feel his throat tighten and the tears start to sting the back of his eyes.  "There's no one else quite like her."

"Is that right?  For someone who's supposed to be so unique, she's not you know," Doc said with a laugh.

Spike glared at him again.  "What?"  He demanded.  "She's one of a kind.  No one else can touch her."

"She's not the only Slayer though, if it's Slayers that you and your kind want to get romantic with.  There's also that other one – that one in prison.  Wouldn't she be more your type?  From what I understand, she's quite the wild one."

"You know," Spike stated flatly, starting at the ceiling again and trying to control his temper, "You're really starting to piss me off."

Doc guffawed as his eyes twinkled merrily.  "You must be feeling better!"

It suddenly occurred to Spike that he did feel better.  He closed his eyes as his hands wandered to his sides and pressed on his ribs – no pain.  Even the pain in his head had subsided to a dull ache and the rest of his injuries from the fight with Giles seemed minor and almost non-existent.  He frowned.  What was happening to him?

Noticing the perplexed look on Spike's face, Doc spoke up.  "Your scratches and cuts are almost gone."

Spike's eyes snapped open as he checked over his arms and hands.  It was true.  His wounds were almost completely gone.  "How?"

"That does seem to be the question of the day, doesn't it?"

"I don't understand," Spike said with a sigh as he buried his face in his hands.  This was just too much for his brain to process at the moment.  Slowly he looked up at Doc, eyes pleading with the man to tell him the truth.  "I'm human, right?   

Doc sat back in his chair, a certain amount of sympathy showing on his face as he studied the confused man closely.  It had to be hard going from undead for over a century to a living, breathing being again – with a conscience.  How was one to cope with that?  "As far as I can tell, you are completely human."

"But I shouldn't be able to move like I do or heal like this."  Maybe it was the powers from that last demon he defeated during the trials or maybe…  "Am I some type of monster?"

"You are no more a vampire, or monster, than I am.  It is curious, though, how you are able to heal so quickly.  Rupert said he may have an idea of what you've become, so I'll let him fill you in on that."

 "Watcher's got a theory, does he?  'Slong as he doesn't tell his Council cronies 'bout me, he can fill me in whenever he's ready."  He was too tired to dig for answers from older man, besides; he didn't think Doc would exactly be forthcoming with the information.

"I'm sure Rupert will keep your secret as long as you need."

"As for you…"

"Ah, Mr. Spike," Doc started, holding up his hand to silence the man on the bed.  "Your secret is safe with me as well."

"Bloody well better be," Spike growled.  "Last thing I need is for those wankers to be poking and prodding me."

Doc smiled.  "First of all, they would more than likely kill you and then poke and prod you.  They tend to shoot first and ask questions later, but I suppose you already knew that."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it was meant to set you straight.  This will cheer you up, though.  Buffy called while you were sleeping…"

"Buffy called?"  His heart skipped several beats and his stomach tightened.  After his dream, to hear her name again, to know she was still alive – it was a relief.  Suddenly, though, reality came crashing down around him.  "You didn't tell her I was here, did you?"  He snapped, panic in his voice.

"Settle down.  I let the machine pick it up.  It's not my home after all.  She just called to apprise Rupert of the situation back in Sunnydale.  Seems the young witch is healing nicely, albeit slowly, but Mr. Harris is still in a coma.  Such a sad thing for someone so young.  I suspect he'll recover though if the preliminary translations of the prophecies are correct."

"What prophecies?"  Spike asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Nothing that concerns you, Spike," Giles stated from the doorway, throwing Doc a stern look at the same time.

"Rupert," Doc said with a grin.  "You've returned.  Excellent.  I believe your thoughts about our Mr. Spike may be correct.  His wounds and broken bones are almost completely healed."

"Amazing," Giles replied excitedly, running to Spike's side and checking the man's face and arms for confirmation.  "Most remarkable!"

"I agree.  I'd like your permission to study him further."

"Yes," Giles nodded, the excitement still showing on his face.  There are many questions to be answered."

"Do you think this was supposed to happen?"  Doc asked as he began to pace the length of the room.

"I'm not sure.  I'll have to check the texts while you conduct the examination…"

"Wait a minute here!"  Spike bellowed, shaking his finger at the two men before him.  He had been watching their conversation as one would watch a tennis match, except his brain hurt too much to keep up with the vollies.  He wished he could think straight!  "There will be no studying of me!  Ever!  Is that clear?  I'm not some sideshow freak in the bloody circus.  Well, maybe I am," he said after a moment's pause.  "But that's besides the point!"

"I won't hurt you," Doc assured him with a gentle smile.  "I don't subscribe to my employer's methods of research.  Nothing like this has ever happened before.  We just want to…"

"Nothing like what?"  Spike demanded, glaring at Giles.  "Doc here says you've got a theory.  Let's hear it then, shall we?"

Giles put his hands in his trouser pockets and looked down at the floor, gathering his thoughts.  After a few moments of internal debate, he began.  "Nothing like this has ever happened before, Spike…"

"We've already established that, Watcher.  Get down to the nitty gritty already!"

"Right," Giles replied with a half smile.  He supposed if he were in Spike's position, he'd want immediate answers too.  "It's just a theory on my part mind you, but your reflexes and healing capabilities seem to suggest that I'm correct in hypothesizing…"

"I'm not too weak to get out of this bed and give you a sound thrashing, ya know!  Get on with it, Rupert!"

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration with one hand while he held his glasses in the other.  "If you would close your mouth for half a second, I'd be able to tell you what I think."

"Sorry, but I'm a little on edge here.  Please…continue."  He was now holding his breath.  From the look on the Watcher's face, he'd say it was something he wasn't going to like.

"Right.  Before I go on, Spike, I want you to know, this is only a theory.  Doc and I will both have to do more research."

"Yeah, yeah," Spike replied curtly.  "I get it.  'Don't shoot the messenger' but if you soon don't tell me what you're thinking, I'm gonna start shooting more than the messenger."

The look in Spike's eyes was making Doc nervous.  Quickly, he looked from Spike to his friend, hoping that Giles would soon tell the former vampire his theory; otherwise he was afraid things could start getting a little messy in here. 

"Spike, no matter how quickly you're healing, you're in no position to be threatening me.  Now, if you'll keep quiet…"

"As a mouse, Watcher."

"Right," Giles responded, eyeing Spike closely to see if he'd keep his word before he continued.  After several silent moments, he continued.  "As I was saying, I believe that with your healing capabilities and quick reflexes, you've become something that has never existed outside of old texts and lore.  I believe that you, Spike, are something akin to that of a male Slayer."