Broken

Disclaimer: Owning a mild toothache, nothing else.

Summary: Spike is having some problem with… oh just read it.

Reviews: Yes, please. Love reviews. Adore reviewers. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Thanks bunches to my (new) partner in crime (on other stories) WayWard Childe for pre-reading this and easing my rampant insecurity. We're going to collaborate on other fics along with 'The Luck Of The Vampire' after that all joint efforts will be posted under our pen name Squirly Childe. As well as continuing on our individual insanities.

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Once more Wesley found himself the first one up and trying to figure out what to feed all the people staying in the huge old hotel. He pondered the problem as he descended the staircase. With his head bent, he entered the kitchen to start some coffee. He jumped when he realized the room already had an occupant. Spike was standing at the counter with his arms braced on the edge and his head bowed as he waited for the microwave to finish.

"Spike. I didn't expect to see you so early." Wes said. The Daywalker turned slowly to face the fellow Brit.

"Watcher. What gets you up at this hour?" Spike asked, indicating the clock on the wall that showed the time as just past six am.

"Frankly, I couldn't sleep." Wesley admitted.

"Welcome to the club." Spike retrieved his mug of blood and sat at the table. "I made coffee. Help yourself." He added.

Wes got a cup and poured himself some of the fragrant brew. He sat across from Spike and sipped appreciatively. "It's good."

Spike inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

Wes set his cup down carefully, noting the drawn expression on the other man's face. "Are you okay? We heard what happened with Angel."

Spike winced. "Yeah, well…" He sipped his blood a bit more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wes asked after several minutes of silence.

The vampire shrugged. "Not really. I'm just having a bit of difficulty…um…processing everything. It's hard. I have a choice to make and equal parts of me are disputing over which choice is the right one."

Wesley sat forward, intrigued. "A choice? But I thought with you being back that you'd be staying with Buffy."

Spike nodded. "That's one option. Stay with Buffy either here or somewhere else and continue to fight the whole good versus evil battle. Getting really tired of that but don't tell anyone I said that. My other option is going back up to the mountain and live in peace. No one will remember any of this happening, as far as anyone would know, I'd still be dead. A big part of me wants that peace more than anything."

"And what would you remember of this?" Wesley was curious.

"None of it. I'd remember nothing that happened prior to four months ago. This will never have happened. And the nightmares would go away forever. I'd live just like I have been doing, with the added benefit of peaceful sleep." Spike finished his blood and moved over to the sink to wash out the mug so he could put coffee in it. He returned to his chair and sipped the hot liquid.

Wesley contemplated his coffee for long minutes. He glanced up at his companion. "I can see where it would be hard to choose." He murmured.

Spike nodded wearily. "I don't want to hurt Buffy or Dawn. But I'm tired of the pain, the uncertainty." His voice shook for a second. "I'm still not sure…"

"Not sure of what, Spike?" Wesley urged the vampire to continue.

"That's the problem. I don't know." Spike's frustration was clear.

"Have you talked to Buffy?" Wesley asked.

Spike nodded. "A bit last night. I didn't tell her about the choices." He studied the tabletop. "My memories…"

"What about them?" Wesley wanted to know. "Did you get them sorted out?"

The platinum tipped head tilted. "Yeah, sorted. Everything in it's own neat little memory box. Lined up by year. Subcategorized by the type of pain and the source." His voice was bitter.

Wes nodded. "Xander told us that most of your memories were painful ones." His steady blue gaze met Spike's. "Buffy and Angel were the main sources of the pain, weren't they?"

Long minutes passed. "Yeah." He whispered as his eyes dropped back to the table.

"Oh Dear." Wes couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yeah." Spike repeated, as if that explained it all.

'And', Wes thought, 'maybe it did.' He thought about what he'd read in the notebook of nightmares and realized that it was possible that the young vampire had earned peace. His unlife had been far from peaceful and he had saved the world. To expect him to rejoin the fight without allowing him the choice would be infinitely unfair. He watched the expressions pass over Spike's unhappy face.

"Spike…Will, whatever you choose to do, please talk to Angel and Buffy about it first. They suffered a great deal when you died…" Wes was interrupted by Spike's derisive laugh.

"Peaches suffered? Bollocks. He probably partied for a sodding week after I dusted." Spike scoffed.

"Spike, Angel felt you die. He felt the pain you did. We thought he was dying that day. He doubled over with the agony of your injuries. He felt your essence leave this world. He suffered nightmares of your death. Spike, he mourned you. Seeing your portrait was very difficult for him because it gave him hope that you were back." Wesley leaned forward over the table in his intensity.

"He hates me." Spike told him, eyes narrowed. "Nothing I ever did was good enough for the old Poof. He was embarrassed by me and he left us without a second glance. He was supposed to wear that damned amulet!" His grip tightened on the coffee cup until it shattered, spilling hot coffee over the tabletop and embedding shards of china into Spike's hand. Wesley jumped up and grabbed some paper towels to throw over the rapidly spreading liquid. He tugged on Spike's arm to pull him over to the sink, running cool water over the cuts to rinse away the blood welling around the slivers that were deeply cutting into the skin.

Spike watched Wesley fuss over his hand as if entranced. He made no sound as the former Watcher delicately eased the slivers out. His vampire healing was already stopping the bleeding and Wes knew he had to remove the bits of porcelain quickly to prevent the wounds from healing over them.

Wes glanced up and noticed with concern the glazed expression in Spike's sapphire eyes. "Spike?" No answer. The fixed stare was unnerving.

Xander wandered in, lured by the smell of the fresh coffee. He took in the situation in a glance. "Oh, God." He moved over to the two men and deliberately placed his hand over Spike's directly in his line of sight.

"Spike!" Xander said sharply. "Look at me." He was frustrated when he was ignored.

"Wes, what did you say?" The male Scooby demanded.

"I'm not sure what it was. We were talking about what he was going to do next…" Wes began to answer.

Xander nodded. "Yeah, his choices. Then what?"

"I was telling him about Angel's reaction to his death. He seemed to think that Angel was happy about it. When in fact the exact opposite is true." Wes was shocked when Xander groaned.

"God, that's the last thing he needs to hear about." Xander tugged gently on the vampire's injured hand, wrapping a clean kitchen towel around it.

"Come on, Spike. Let's sit down." He led the curiously unresisting smaller man over to the table and eased him into a chair. "There you go. Come on, snap out of it."

"Harris?" Xander closed his eyes and relief washed over him when he heard Spike whisper his name.

"What, Spike?" He answered.

"I hurt my hand." The childish statement did nothing to ease the minds of the two humans listening.

"I see that. Want to tell me why?" Xander asked gently.

"Don't know." Spike told him, his gaze never wavered from the wounded appendage. "It was bleeding." He added.

"Yes, but it's stopped now." Xander sat down next to Spike and tried to look into the dazed blue eyes. Wesley was beginning to get the uncomfortable feeling that the stresses of the past few days had snapped Spike's mind.

"Spike?" Xander tried again to get the vampire's attention.

"Yes?" The single, very quiet word sent chills down Xander's spine. He cleared his throat.

"Can you tell me what you were doing when you hurt your hand?" Once more old habits from dealing with his cousin came to Xander's aid.

"Talking."

"What about?" Xander tried to keep the tension from his voice.

"Angel." Spike's blue eyes glinted with amber flecks as he growled the name. However, his gaze never wavered. Xander got the feeling that Spike was afraid to look away from his damaged hand.

"What about him?" Xander asked hesitantly.

"He hates me." The sentence was dripping with sorrow. "But I hate him more." The growl returned but it was still tinged with sadness.

"Why do you hate him?" Wesley asked softly.

"He let me die." Spike spoke now without expression. "Not talking any more." His eyes drifted closed.

"Spike? Spike!" Xander shook Spike's injured hand lightly to get his attention. "This is sooo not good." He groaned when Spike gave no indication that he heard.

Buffy skidded into the kitchen and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Spike sitting at the table.

"Spike! I was so scared when I woke up and you were gone. Spike?" She moved over to her vampire and kneeled down to look up into his face. She glanced at Xander and Wes. "What's wrong with him?"

"We're not sure." Wes admitted, raking a hand through his hair.

Xander put his hand on the slayer's shoulder. "He's gonna be okay, Buff. I promise."

More people gathered into the kitchen. Angel and Cordy came in together. "Buffy, what's wrong?" Angel asked when he saw the tears gathering in her green eyes.

"Is he asleep?" Cordelia asked.

"I don't know." Xander answered.

Krista moved forward and placed a small hand on Spike's shoulder. She leaned over and placed her mouth next to his ear. "Spike." She whispered.

His eyelids fluttered. "Spike." She repeated. "You want to look at me. I need you to talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

The sapphire eyes opened and his hazy gaze returned to his injured hand. It wasn't as painful as it had been but it provided a focal point for him. He felt as if he would not shatter into a million pieces if he could keep his focus on his hand.

"Spike, what are you doing?" Krista asked softly.

"Looking at my hand." She was surprised by the answer.

"Why?"

"Cause I hurt it. It was bleeding." Spike said quietly, his voice distant.

"What are you doing while you look at your hand?" Krista wanted to know.

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"Everything, n-nothing, B-Buffy." Spike stuttered a little over his words.

Krista made a decision as she glanced around the increasingly full kitchen. "Spike, I want you to come with me. I want to talk to you, just the two of us."

The vampire nodded without shifting his attention. She took his uninjured hand and tugged him out of his chair. She led him to Wesley's office, figuring that Angel's would further disturb the troubled vampire. She gently pushed him onto the sofa and watched as he returned to his contemplation of his hand.

"Wait right here. I'll be right back, okay?" He nodded without speaking and she hurried back to the kitchen.

"What the hell happened?" She demanded.

Wes and Xander filled the pixie in on the conversations that had taken place. She nodded and returned to Spike.

Fred and Gunn came in bearing large bags of groceries. Cordy, Fred and Willow set about making breakfast for everyone. Giles met up with Lindsey in the lobby. He steered the lawyer over to a quiet corner.

"Mr. MacDonald, a word if I may." Rupert said. "Have you thought about what you're going to do now?"

Lindsey shook his head. "I have to make sure my family is all right."

"Your family is in England, temporarily housed at the Watcher's Council. I was wondering if you would like to join them. I think your legal experience could be an asset to the Council. What do you think?" Giles smiled slightly at the stunned expression on Lindsey's face.

"I don't know what to say." The younger man stammered.

"Say 'yes' I already have the arrangements made." Giles told him. Lindsey just nodded. "Let's go get some coffee." The elder Watcher motioned toward the kitchen.

Back in Wesley's office, Krista watched as Spike studied his hand. She'd closed the door so they could have some privacy.

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you staring at your hand?" Krista couldn't resist asking.

"Because if I concentrate, I… won't… break." Spike said slowly.

Krista frowned. "Why would you break?"

"Because it's too hard. I can't…" He stopped.

"Can't what?"

"Decide."