Edie's eyes flickered open and she blinked at a white tile ceiling. She tried elevating herself by the strength of her arms, but they were lifeless. She felt impeccably stiff, as if her body was weighed down. She peeked her head up to survey her surroundings. The walls were plainly white and so were her sheets. The only sound that could be heard was that of the medical equipment that Edie laid hooked up to.

"Finally, you're up." Jet strolled into the room with steaming cup of coffee.

"Jet." croaked Edie, mystified. "Jet, where am I?" Her voice quivered and scratched against her throat.

"You're in the hospital."

"Well duh! What am I doing here?" she motioned to her IV. Jet snickered and took a sip of his coffee.

"Typical. Edie, that guy's knife was laced with something that did more harm than the stab wound."

"I knew I was no pussy." Edie grinned widely at Jet. "How long have I been here? Why does my body feel like its glued to this bed?"

"Three days. What do you expect? Your body is still asleep. Doctor's finally got you stable. Your body is pretty damn strong fighting off that poison. Doctor said you're lucky; most would die under such lethal dosage." Jet's face appeared too calm for Edie's taste.

She believed he'd be frantic at such news; well, that's of course if he cared for her.

"Lucky, you say? So when can I blow this joint?"

"Whenever you're up to it."

"Then get your fat ass up and help me move!" Jet set down his coffee, stretched his arms, and picked Edie up.


"Glad to know you were here, awaiting my return." snapped Edie in sarcasm at the sight of Spike sprawled onto the yellow couch. He looked up from his book to see Edie supported by Jet. She hobbled in each step.

"Damn, there goes my plans for your room." He returned to his book.

Spike had no idea how badly Edie wished to smack him upside the head, but she could barely walk, let alone throw a jab. Doc said she'd be back to her old self in no time. Edie just had to keep moving to warm up her muscles. He said give it a few days.

Jet helped Edie conquer the stairs, heading for her room. She craved a hot bath and her own clothes. Jet insisted on helping her into the tub but she quickly rejected the notion. 1) She was no weak ass bitch that couldn't take a simple bath by herself and 2) she'd die before she'd let Jet see her naked. When Jet returned upstairs, she gathered her radio and used the wall to support herself on her way to the bathtub. Edie positioned her portable radio not too far from the tub and turned it on. She slid her fragile naked body into the tub full of bubbles and scented oils.

...

"That girl's one tough bitch." yawned Jet as he entered the common area. Spike looked up at Jet then back to his book.

"You've taken quite a liking to her," Spike's eyes didn't leave the page as he referred to Jet.

"And you haven't?" Jet dragged passed Spike to his room. Bags drooped underneath his eyes and his back ached from uncomfortable couches at the hospital. Spike let out a hard laugh. Jet disappeared and, presumably, fell asleep in his quarters, leaving Spike alone and unmoved in the common area. He was engulfed by Oscar Wilde's piece, "The Picture of Dorian Gray". You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit. He loved that, the idea of representing sin itself. He was striven to be such a man.

Spike sat himself, trudged down the stairs and aimed for his humble abode. On his way, he caught sight of Edie, in a towel, plopped on the floor.

"What are you doing?" He lowered himself to face her.

"Sitting. What do you think I'm doing here?!" griped Edie as she held a tighter grasp on her towel. She attempted, once more, to pick herself up by leaning against the wall for support. But all to no avail.

"I slipped, is all." she muttered.

Spike, beside himself, held out his hand to Edie. She received it and used it to pull herself up. When she finally could stand, her legs wobbled under her. Bracing herself for another fall, Spike suddenly bent down and hoisted Edie. Edie let out a small "eep" due to Spike's unexpected action. She gripped around his neck with both arms, fearful he just may drop her (a typical Spike move). Spike said nothing as he carried her to her room. His face, as usual, stoic.

He gently placed her on her bed and began trailing away until Edie clenched his arm. Spike gazed at her hand then at her face. To his surprise, Edie's face was detached, showing no expression. Her face was normally full of emotion and color. But this time she peered at him with blank eyes. She pulled him in and he allowed her. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit. As Edie neared his face she noted how he didn't retract. Spike kept her glare. Her lips lingered near his, but she did not kiss his lips; she softly kissed his jaw instead. Spike's face felt like fire. Edie caressed Spike's face with both her hands, not minding her loose towel. She kissed his throat and Spike swallowed hard. His inner thighs throbbing. Edie ran her fingers down his arms to grasp them tighter. She heaved him further, forcing him to fall over her.

"I don't care if you imagine that it's her." She whispered in his ear as she nudged him. Spike tittered a little and inched himself closer to her. Edie latched her legs onto Spike's body, widening them. Spike could feel his heart in his throat.

"Shit" was all he thought to himself before giving into Edie.

He flung away his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and frantically fingered the buttons of his shirt. Edie placed her soft hands over his frantic fingers and Spike glanced up at her. Dare he say that he feared her at that moment? Her eyes. They were perfectly placid. They were devoid of their usual shine yet her face was flushed and breast pierced her towel. She pulled his shaking hands and perched them above her, on to her sheets. He firmly clenched the sheets while Edie eased each button undone. She ripped away his shirt, roaming her small hands on Spike's hot aching skin. He enjoyed her touch. It's gentle caress. It's cold sensation against his heated skin. He ached for her; he ached to be inside her. Edie nestled herself into Spike's neck, inhaling his scent of alcohol and smoke. He made her drunk. She brushed her lips along his neck and felt him squirm. Spike wriggled off his pants and planted himself against Edie. She moaned quietly.

"This is going to be a rough night." He forewarned Edie, tugging away her towel.