Disclaimer: There is a zombie barman in this chapter. Can I count him as my own, because no one else is?

To those people still reading and especially the reviewers, thank you so much! I appreciate the feedback and it encourages me to keep going! :)

Chapter 8

It was several hours later. Buffy had woken up, much to the relief of the others. However, she still felt incredibly exhausted, as if she had no strength. The doctor had checked her out and found nothing wrong, except this inexplicable weakness.

Giles, Willow and Angel were sitting with Buffy, looking awkwardly at each other, not sure what to say. The Slayer might be physically under par, but her stubborn determination to know the truth was not wavering. She was sitting up in bed, fire in the hazel eyes that seemed too big for her delicate, pale face.

'Guys! Enough of the stalling and the "let's not upset poor, sick Buffy"! I want to know what's been going on! No more BS! I understand that old lady cursed me. The old poison apple trick. Never saw myself as the fairy tale princess type. But how did you cure me? Did you do a spell, Willow? And who was slutty pyscho nurse? C'mon, what are you hiding from me?'

She lay back down, the effort of speaking taking all her energy. It was a frightening thing for the others to see.

Giles tried to speak reassuringly. 'The thing is, we know very little. We...'

'No, Giles. It's time we told her the truth, especially about how we woke her up.' Angel quietly but firmly interrupted the Englishman. Willow heard the bitterness in his voice, and it seemed like Buffy had picked up on it, too.

'What is it? What's wrong? Did you have to do something bad to wake me up?'

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. 'Well, you could say that, I suppose. The last thing he needs is his ego massaging. He's hard enough to control at the best of times.'

'Who are you talking about? What's going on? Please, tell me!'

Willow and Giles looked at each other, and Willow gave a tiny nod. Giles sighed and took off his glasses to polish them, to give him time to collect his thoughts.

'Right, jolly good. Let's stop all the prevaricating and tell you everything we know. Angel is right. Full disclosure is important at this point, so that we can move forward and get you well. ' He hesitated, clearly uncertain where to begin.

Willow spoke up, a little unsure of herself. 'I think, Giles, Angel should be the one to tell Buffy about..., well, you know. He knew long before we did, and maybe he has some idea about why he...'

'Yes, yes, that's a splendid idea. If Angel agrees, that is.' Giles seemed relieved to be able to pass that particular burden onto someone else's shoulders. Buffy was going to be furious and upset and goodness knows what else besides. Even in a weakened state an enraged Slayer was a formidable sight. But that wasn't it. He knew she would be hurt by the revelations about Spike, and, after everything she had been through, he was not sure he could stand seeing her in more pain.

Angel nodded in silent agreement. Willow smiled reassuringly and said, 'We'll just get a drink or something, and we'll be back soon.' Then she and Giles left the room.

Angel helped Buffy to sit upright and gave her some water to drink. He then stood up and started pacing around the room, looking too big for the small room, with all the pent up emotion inside him.

Buffy's quiet voice sounded loud in the room. 'Angel. Please. Sit down and tell me. All this is making me scared. What did you all do? Can't be worse than when the Scoobies pulled me out of heaven!'

She was trying to make light of the situation but inside she was panicking. Why were they all acting like this? What could they have to say to her that was so bad? Maybe this weakness was permanent and she was going to end up bedridden for the rest of her life? 'ANGEL. Tell me NOW!' Her voice was high and sharp with fear.

The vampire came, sat down by the bed and took her hand. The cool touch of his skin was somehow reassuring and worrying at the same time, a feeling echoed by the look on his face as he gazed at her. It was the strangest mixture of anger, trepidation and pity.

So she squeezed his hand and said, 'Hey, c'mon. We've been through a lot together, and I mean a lot. So just spit it out. I won't get mad.'

'Yeah, cross your heart, and all that? Because I highly doubt you're going to like what I've got to say.'

'Angel!'

He sat there for the longest while, eyes focused on their intertwined hands. Then he pulled his shoulders back and looked her straight in the eye. 'It's about Spike.'

They had been talking for over an hour. Buffy probably would have been shouting for a lot of it, if she had had the strength. For the vampire, it had been like a stake in the heart when he had seen the myriad of emotions passing over her face after she had finally taken in the fact that Spike was back and somewhere in the same city as her.

She had gone from shock to disbelief to anger to hurt and back again to anger, always a safe place for Buffy to deal with whatever life threw at her. But among those understandable feelings, Angel had seen fleeting glimpses of hope and wonderment and perhaps even joy. He would not think about the word love.

When he had explained the circumstances of the ritual and what it could mean for Spike and her, Buffy had reddened and then shut her eyes, as if blocking out the information. 'Are you sure that's what it means? Could you all be wrong about the curse?

'Maybe, but Buffy, I couldn't wake you up, and old William there could. Gotta mean something. Or do you think it's impossible that you could lo..., still have feelings for him? You told me once that he was in your heart, you know.'

'Yes, I...' She stopped, fury and pain clearly etched on her face. 'How could he do that to me? All this time and I thought he was gone. How could you not tell me...'

She couldn't go on. Tears welled up and she covered her face with her hands. Angel put his arms around her and let her cry. Her tears were always disturbing because she was such a strong person. But it was as if the dam had burst. He let her sob, all the pent up emotions of the last few months, hell, the last few years, pouring out of her. She was not strong enough to keep it up for long and soon she gave a few deep sighs and then relaxed in his arms.

'Sorry, Angel. Don't know what came over me.'

He gently wiped her face with a tissue and then laid her back down on the pillows. 'I think we've talked enough for now. Get some rest and then we can ...'

She interrupted him. 'Where is he now? Why isn't he here? Doesn't he want to see me?' She stumbled a little over the last few words.

Angel hated the plaintive note in her voice, mixed with the anger. God, she was in love with that damned blond idiot. Would he ever be able to accept that? The look on Buffy's face made Angel want to smash something with his fists, preferably a face with ridiculously prominent cheekbones.

'He disappeared when you woke up. I know, I know. Typical Spike. But I doubt he's gone far. He won't be able to resist finding out if you're ok. He'll be back, once he can be sure he can appear all cool and uncaring again. All about appearances, you know Spike.'

She gave a wan smile and then her eyelids closed, exhaustion winning.

Angel waited until night time. The others had been in and out of the hospital all day. Buffy had talked to Willow a little about Spike, but the rest of them had avoided the subject. Andrew had had a short, private conversation with her. He would not say what had gone on, but he had come out of the room looking pale but relieved, as if he had faced a fearsome demon but had somehow survived. Only to Dawn did he whisper. 'She's forgiven me for not telling her. The Slayer has a noble heart.'

The rest of them took it in turns to sit with Buffy, play Scrabble with her, take her magazines and fruit, while doctors came and did more pointless tests. No one talked about the fact that she did not seem to be getting any stronger, and that the dark circles under her eyes remained. She had looked healthier when she was in the coma. Dawn and Willow went back to the few books and manuscripts they had. Had they missed something? At least two of them stayed with her at all times, with weapons carefully hidden in backpacks. Who knew if there would be any more attacks on her? Willow put a protection spell on the room, but she was not convinced that it would work.

Once twilight had driven the sun away from the city, Angel went on the hunt. He knew a few places where the likes of demons and vampires could hang out in Rome. It took a while, and a visit to some pretty unsavoury places, but eventually he found the other vampire, in a monsters only bar in a disused crypt in the oldest part of the city.

The bar was dank, cold and carved out of ancient stone which was covered in green and brown lichen. It was full of mysterious shadows and hidden corners. Water dripped down the walls and the only light was from huge, dirty yellow candles attached to massive wrought iron sconces on the walls. The counter was made of oak so old it had gone black and was harder than steel. It was covered in scratches and gouges, the relics of innumerable bar fights over the years. Weapons of all kinds covered the walls.

'What a cliché,' he thought in exasperation. Then he spotted Spike, bent over a large glass of what looked like whisky, sitting alone at the bar, a large bottle in front of him. The chairs either side of him were empty, despite the fact the bar was packed. The blond vampire was radiating so much pent up fury and bitterness that even that tough crowd did not want to mess with him.

'Why do the undead and the evil always have to spend their time in gloomy, smelly, damp holes in the ground? What's wrong with a bit of luxury? Being dead doesn't mean you have to be dirty or uncomfortable.' Angel sat down next to Spike and spoke very matter-of-factly, just like any two guys in a bar making conversation. He resisted the temptation to break Spike's nose and beat his face to a pulp. He was proud of his self-control.

'What the hell do you want, Captain Forehead? Come to have a go at me, be all self-righteous and pompous? I do not want to hear it. Leave me and this bottle of spectacularly awful whisky to continue getting to know each other.'

Spike had clearly been drinking for a while. He was that place where drunkenness goes full circle back to icy sobriety. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him forget what had gone on in the last couple of days. To drown out the mixture of terror and hope that the ritual had planted in his dead heart.

Angel counted to ten in his head and tried to maintain his calm tone of voice.

'What are you doing here? Buffy...Buffy's been asking after you.' No one would ever know what it had cost him to say that. It was so tempting to play on Spike's insecurities and paranoia and make sure that he left Italy without ever seeing Buffy. Maybe that would be the best thing for all concerned, instead of opening up old wounds. He clenched his jaw. Perhaps it would be best, but that wasn't his call to make.

Some of the whisky slopped out of the glass. Spike very carefully put down the drink. Without looking at Angel, he said, in a voice devoid of all emotion, 'So she knows. How'd she take the news of my happy return from the beyond?'

'How do you think? She's not exactly ready to throw you a welcome back party.'

Spike gave a bitter laugh. 'Well, there's a surprise. I thought she and the Bit would have got the caterers in and everything.'

Angel could stand it no longer. 'Do you have to be such a jackass? I mean, what the hell's your problem? I'd have thought you'd be the one throwing an "I told you do" party, just so you could gloat.'

'How do you figure that, mate?' Spike put a world of sarcasm into that last word, and Angel's palms itched with the effort of not balling his hands into fists.

'The universe has spoken! Buffy and Spike are meant to be! You did it, you woke her up. Magical proof that you're it for her. Why aren't you in her room, making cow eyes at her, planning your perfect future with her?'

'You're kidding me, right? Do you really think it's that simple? Even if she forgives me for being in LA all this time without telling her, what kind of future do we have together? All the problems we had in Sunnydale haven't gone into the hole along with the town! And as for that bloody ritual! We're not sure about anything yet. I don't want Buffy to feel obliged to me, or think she has to pretend to...'

'God, get over yourself! You woke her up! Doesn't that mean anything to you? You know your problem? You're nothing but a coward! That's why you've been hiding out in LA, afraid to face her.'

'I thought it was best to let things be, for her sake!'

'That's a crock and you know it!'

The other creatures in the bar had edged even further away. The zombie bartender was pretending not to notice anything, giving some glasses the drying of their life down at the end of the counter, as far away from the two vampires as possible.

Spike and Angel were now standing facing each other, the tension between them palpable. Not only that, the other monsters in the crypt could smell the souls in these two, as well as the fact that they were vampires. That combination in one undead creature was unnerving enough, but to have two of them in the same place was unbelievable and shocking. Who knew what such demons could do?

For Angel and Spike, the temptation to go into vampire mode and just settle their differences old style was almost impossible to resist. A good bar fight was just what they both needed right now. Violence and destruction were so much better than 'talking about your feelings'. They were demons, weren't they? So enough of the Doctor Phil crap and they could work it out with their fists.

Angel, however, knew that this was not the time, even if it was the perfect place, for a brawl.

He sat down on the stool, picked up the whisky bottle and poured a generous amount into Spike's glass. He gestured to the barman to bring him one, too. Then he lifted up the two glasses and held one out to Spike, who looked for split second like he was going to go for Angel's throat. Then he too thought better of it and took the drink. They both took a large swig, shuddering at the battery acid taste of it.

'There's something you don't know.' Angel sounded hesitant.

'What? Christ, what now? Is it Buffy?'

'Yes, the thing is... yeah, you woke her up but we're not out of the woods yet.'

And he explained about Buffy's continuing weakness and the attack by the nurse, whom they thought must have been Myrsina or one of her minions, if they were on the right track.

When Spike had heard what Angel had to say, his mouth set in a thin, bitter line. 'See, I told you all. This whole business of soul mates is crap. Ok, maybe she cared about me enough for me to wake her up, but not enough to cure her completely. So what's the point of me going back there?' He sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

'Jesus, Spike, what are you, 13 years old, sitting in a field pulling petals off a daisy going, "She loves me, she loves me not"? Why is everything always about poor little Spikey and his hurt feelings? This is BUFFY we're talking about! She's sick and in danger. Do you want to sit in a corner and lick your wounds, feeling sorry for yourself, or do you want to help?'

Spike did not answer for a long time, clearly wrestling with his emotions. For once in his life, his better half won. 'Yes, I'm a jackass.' He sat up straighter, put the drink down and turned to look at Angel. 'So what now? What can we do?'

Angel drained his glass and said, a twisted smile on his face, 'You know, I have no idea, and neither does anyone else. Well, not the first time that's happened. C'mon. I'm taking you back to the hospital. Time to face the music, William.'

And, putting some money on the counter top, they left the bar, leaving a relieved crowd behind them.

Once they had made their way back to the hospital, Angel left Spike with Willow who, having found time for a nap that morning, had taken the night shift on Buffy watch, along with Andrew. The witch went into the room and came back saying, 'She's still asleep. I think you'll have to wait until morning. We really shouldn't disturb her. Andrew, go and get some coffee, please.' Andrew, who was clearly dying to hear what Spike had to say, ready for another episode of the vampire/slayer soap opera, pouted, but went trotting off.

'So what went wrong, Red? Why isn't she all up and ready to kick some demon ass? Was it my...'

Willow quickly interrupted him. 'We don't know if anything went wrong. It's still early days. She might just need time to heal. It was a serious bit of magic; it was bound to take its toll on her.'

'You know what I mean. Maybe, maybe you were wrong about Buffy and me.' She could hardly hear what he was saying, his voice was so low.

She answered him patiently. 'No one else was able to wake her up, not even Angel. And we know she loved him, and still does, in some way. Only you managed it, and that's got to mean something. If she didn't love you, what about the sleeping for a hundred years thing? Why didn't that happen?'

'Perhaps she's going to slip back into a coma. Perhaps it takes time for the curse to work.'

'She doesn't seem to be getting any worse, just not any better. I think we're missing something. Maybe the curse is more complicated than we thought. Or maybe there were two parts to it and we don't know about it yet. We don't have a lot to go on.'

'We need to find that bloody demon! Let me go and ask around. I'll find her if it's the last thing I do!'

'We should find her. But first you have to talk to Buffy.'

He gave a ghost of a smile. 'I'd rather face the demon. Is she really mad at me?'

'I think she's mad and shocked and hurt. But I also think that, deep inside, she's so happy that you're back, or at least she will be, once she's gotten over the mad bit.'

He smiled gratefully at her, and then they sat down to wait out the rest of the night.

Just as dawn was breaking, when Spike had had to retreat further up the corridor to avoid the searching rays of the early morning sun, a nurse came to check on Buffy. Willow went into the room with her. Andrew tried to think of something to say to engage Spike in conversation, but the vampire's whole attention was on that open door. In the end, all he could say was, 'Spike, she always loved you. She just was never ready to say it.' And he walked away, leaving Spike looking after him in surprise, as he'd forgotten that the boy was even there.

Then Willow came back out after the nurse. 'She's awake. Time to go in now, Spike.'

She could see him standing there, his body rigid with the effort of not trembling, of not showing what this moment meant to him.

Finally, he would get to talk to Buffy again, to look into those eyes, to smell that Buffy scent. Things which had haunted his dreams every single night since he had first rematerialised in LA. He was not sure if he could bear it.

Spike walked through the door, and carefully closed it behind him.