SquidgeWorld Archive

In Duty, Love
by Lilithangel
abchainey@xtra.co.nz
http://www.livejournal.com/users/lilithbint

After the battle Illyria still grieved and could not accept the feeling. She returned to Wesley’s body and turned time back once more. Not soon enough to prevent the attack but soon enough to prevent it being a death blow.

She brought the near death Wesley to the alleyway where Spike stood surrounded by the remains of an army. They had not won the battle but they had not failed.

"You will keep him alive this time," Illyria said to Spike handing Wesley over.

"You said he was dead Blue."

"That was unacceptable."

"What did you do?" Spike cradled Wesley’s body carefully and stepped back as cracks of light appeared in Illyria’s armour.

"I did not wish him to be dead. It’s all physics in the end." Illyria stood back with a puzzled look on her face. "I am happy that this was my last act," she said as her armour shattered from the inside and the light blazed through.

Spike twisted his body to shield Wesley as Illyria disintegrated.

"What the fuck do I do now?" Spike asked the unconscious Wesley. He became aware of the large wound in Wesley’s stomach and decided on the hospital.

* * * * *

Spike fully intended to leave Wesley at the hospital and bugger off out of L.A. Instead he was standing outside the other man’s hospital room pretending to be Wesley’s brother and denying all knowledge of his injuries.

"Mr Wyndham-Price is lucky to be alive, sir," the doctor told him, "any later and we wouldn’t have saved him. As it is he isn’t out of the wood yet. We are also a little concerned about his mental state."

"Yeah well by the looks of the wound I’m not bloody surprised." Spike’s fingers twitched looking for something to distract them.

"He’s been talking about angels and guns and demons in the few times he has regained consciousness."

"A blow to the noggin will do that won’t it?"

"Possibly," the doctor replied, "we will check once he regains consciousness properly." The doctor frowned, "and there may be a problem with his vision."

"So what else is wrong with him?"

"His bowel was perforated and whatever did it also nicked the spinal cord. He lost a lot of blood before our surgeons could close the bowel and there is a risk of infection from the contamination. We won’t know what damage the spinal injury has done until we can stabilise him and the swelling goes down."

"So he might not recover and if he does he might be paralysed and blind." Spike really wanted a cigarette. He remembered his own time in a wheelchair and the crippling fear. Even though he knew he would recover, Wesley wouldn’t have that assurance.

"Worse case scenario yes," the doctor agreed reluctantly. "We are hopeful of a full recovery given time."

"Can I see him?"

"Just for a minute. He’s resting comfortably right now."

Spike stared down at the still form. He had never realised just how much quiet intensity Wesley had when conscious until he saw the man lying so still. There were tubes and machines everywhere and the room smelt of bleach and infection.

They hadn’t been friends but there had been respect there especially after Wesley and Gunn had visited his flat and tried to play heavies. They had shared in their grief after Fred’s death and then shared in the caring of Illyria as best they could. Nobody else had understood the need to keep what little was left of Fred with them. The others had avoided the god as much as they could but he and Wes had watched her carefully for those brief glimpses of Fred as painful as they were to see.

He had seen the cracks in Wesley’s mask and not known how to help and had figured his help would not be welcomed.

Fred would want him to help Wesley. She had believed in him believed he was worth saving and would believe the same of Wesley. Besides there was nobody left.

"When can he get out of here?" Spike asked the doctor as he stepped out of the room.

"Once we are satisfied the infection is under control he can leave providing there is someone who can take care of him. Stomach wounds are quite nasty and take a long time to come right especially when they have cut across muscle the way they have in this case. Mr Wyndham-Pryce will need a lot of help getting back on his feet especially in the worst case scenario."

"He’ll have it."

* * * * *

Wesley moved slowly across the room towards the bathroom. Everything hurt but he was tired of bedpans. It had been several weeks since he woke up when he should have been dead. Weeks of being poked and prodded and his mental state assessed. Weeks of the constant and disturbingly silent presence of Spike in the corner of his room.

After briefly telling him what had happened Spike had simply sat and watched refusing to move even when the doctors asked him to. That was fine with Wesley. He didn’t feel much like talking. He hated being in hospital and the memories of anger and failure it conjured up. So Spike had sat and watched as he lay there and stared at the darkness that was his world now.

He couldn’t remember dying only the excruciating pain and a crushing sense of failure that he hadn’t stopped Vail. He was relieved that Illyria had stopped the sorcerer but still regretted that he hadn’t done his job.

After the doctor had finished and the nurse left they sat in their standard silence until finally one of the staff had called Spike outside and Wesley took the opportunity to make his careful way across the floor.

"What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?" Spike had returned.

"Going to the bathroom," Wesley said mildly.

"Should have asked." Spike darted forward to steady him as he stumbled over his IV line.

"I was tired of being a sideshow exhibit every time I needed to relieve myself."

"Fair enough, but if you do anything stupid now they won’t let me take you home tomorrow."

Wesley smiled for the first time since he woke up, "then I won’t do anything stupid but I am going to use the bathroom."

"Fine. I’ll help you there and you call me to help you back. It’s either me or that scary Nurse Betty," Spike said at the look of rebellion on Wesley’s face.

Spike helped him to the bathroom and then left him alone. He knew the vampire would be sitting outside waiting and able to hear everything but at least he had the illusion of privacy for the first time in weeks. It was hard to adjust to find things without stumbling but he managed.

It was more exhausting than he expected and he was pleased to be able to call out for Spike and be helped back to bed.

"Is my apartment still there?" he asked when he was settled again.

"Thanks to a twisted path of dummy companies set up by Wolfram & Hart it would appear to be legally in your name," Spike said and for the first time he brought his chair up to the side of Wesley’s bed. "Haven’t been able to get inside obviously so any plants you had are probably dead."

Wesley’s laugh was brought up short by his gasp of pain as the stitches in his stomach protested his mirth. "Why are you doing this, why are you here?" he asked when the pain calmed down.

"Cause you need someone and she would want me to." Spike shrugged.

"You don’t have to I will survive on my own."

"It’s what I do what I am so you don’t have a choice."

Wesley was taken aback by the calm certainty in Spike’s voice and chose discretion as the better part of valour since he couldn’t see the blond’s face to judge sincerity.

"I’ll pick you up tomorrow then," Spike said. His hand hovered over Wesley’s shoulder but didn’t make contact. Instead he stood up and headed for the door.

"Spike," Wesley’s voice stopped him at the door, "thank you."

* * * * *

Wesley was dressed and waiting when Spike returned. The nurse had told him his shirt had been ruined in the mugging but that Spike had brought in a button-down shirt for him to wear home. It was certainly not a shirt he would have bought to wear normally, made of silk and not at all practical but it was better than being half naked.

He still didn’t really understand why Spike was helping but had to admit that until he was on his feet properly he was going to need it. The Council had noted several times that Spike seemed to have an unusual capacity to care for people that mattered to him. Wesley didn’t expect that he mattered to Spike that much but he had to assume that Spike was as alone as he was.

Spike arrived with a wheelchair and orderly in tow.

"I really don’t need," Wesley began as Spike told him what was there.

"Not a matter of need," Spike said, "Tweedle here won’t let you out without it."

"Fine," Wesley sighed and let Spike help him into the chair. The orderly glared at Spike and took hold of the wheelchair pushing Wesley into the corridor.

Spike shrugged and grabbed the paper bag of Wesley’s belongings.

"Thanks Tweedle we can take it from here," Spike said, "you’ll be wanting your chair back." Spike helped Wesley to stand and led him over to the Mercedes parked illegally under the entranceway.

He helped Wesley into the passenger seat and flipped the finger to the security guard who was obviously waiting for the police to arrive.

"Liberated a car from the rubble of Wolfram & Hart not much else had survived."

It didn’t hurt as much now to know that Angel was gone along with Gunn and Lorne and Illyria. Wesley was used to being left for whatever reason when he wasn’t needed anymore. He was still so tired that he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

Spike woke Wesley up regretfully when they reached the apartment. The human hadn’t really slept well in the hospital. Spike had watched him jerk awake out of nightmares he didn’t talk about almost every night so the almost peaceful way he slept in the car was a rare treat.

Wesley opened his eyes startled by the fact that he had been asleep and startled again that there was nothing to see. Before he could protest Spike had lifted him out of the car and was carrying him up to the apartment.

"Come in Spike," Wesley said formally as Spike casually unlocked the door with Wesley’s keys that Wesley didn’t even know he was carrying.

Spike put him down on the sofa and went back for the supplies in the car. The apartment was cold and empty and smelt of dust that seemed to sink into his bones and make it impossible to move.

Spike pounded up the stairs and dropped the bags on the floor inside the door kicking it closed absently his eyes fixed on Wesley. "You tired, want to go to bed?"

There was a moment of hesitation where Wesley wondered if he was in fact dead as the oddity of being taken care of by Spike overwhelmed him then he forced himself to answer the blond.

"I would like a shower and a change of clothes."

Spike nodded and offered Wesley his arm to stand. They made their way slowly to the bathroom where Wesley sat gratefully on the toilet seat lid while Spike turned the shower on.

"You want me to stay?" Spike said as he struggled with the buttons on his shirt.

"I don’t want you to but I may need you to." Wesley admitted.

Wesley was grateful that Spike let him strip naked without help. He was too tired and sore to care about being naked in front of the vampire, not that he really expected Spike to be interested.

Spike handed him the waterproof wrapping for his torso. Wesley struggled with the wrapper and Spike finally snorted with amusement and efficiently bound him up.

It felt good to wash the smell of the hospital off his body even though he still had to be careful with his bandages and it hurt to lift his arms too high. He was about to give up on washing his hair when a hand snagged the shampoo.

"Tilt your head back," Spike said gruffly. Surprised Wesley obeyed and found his head resting against Spike’s tee-shirted shoulder.

"You’re getting wet," Wesley said as Spike’s strong hands massaged shampoo into his scalp.

"I’ll dry," Spike replied moving out of the way so Wesley could rinse his hair.

"It really isn’t necessary," Wesley said.

"Shut up," Spike said simply and turned off the shower.

Spike helped Wesley out of the shower and sat him down on a towel on the toilet seat to dry off. Pyjamas appeared from some where and Wesley found he was being tucked into bed before he knew what was happening.

Exhaustion caught him suddenly and his eyes were too heavy to stay open.

Spike dropped his wet clothes on the floor and dug in his duffle for a dry tee-shirt. Leaving the door to Wesley’s bedroom open he stretched out on the sofa and settled in for some more not-quite sleep.

Spike wasn’t sure what had woken him. His own nightmares of dust and blood or Wesley’s cry of distress, but something did and he could hear the choked off sounds.

Walking into the bedroom Spike found Wesley curled up into a ball blankets twisted around his body. His body was covered with a sheen of sweat and his face was frozen in pain.

Spike fetched a cloth and gently soothed the exposed skin stroking Wesley’s hair absently as he watched the lines of stress slowly fade away. When Wesley’s breathing eased and his skin cooled to a normal temperature Spike headed back to the sofa. He was bone tired and really needed to get some sleep.

Wesley opened his eyes slowly after Spike left but didn’t move. Spike’s touch had felt good possibly too good. He had woken from a dream of dying and Fred being there disoriented and in pain. Spike had just been there easing his distress as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Wesley was quite sure Spike hadn’t been aware that he was humming as he wiped Wesley down but it had been nearly enough to put Wesley back to sleep and only the constant ache in his stomach stopped it from happening.

He was home and safe and the surprising sound of Spike snoring slowly lulled him into a doze.

They both slept late into the afternoon of the next day until hunger woke them both. Spike pulled jeans on and padded into the kitchen after ordering Wesley to stay put. He was not surprised when the other man joined him in the kitchen after a few minutes tentatively feeling his way. He’d had enough time to finish a mug of blood before Wesley limped in carefully and simply rolled his eyes at the human stubbornness.

"Hungry?" Spike asked him.

"Not really but I am dying for a good cup of tea."

"Tea and toast then," Spike said pulling some bread out of the fridge.

Wesley decided not to argue when he smelt marmalade and proper tea. It was served in a mug but that didn’t matter.

He was thirsty and the toast tasted better than he expected but his stomach protested after two slices. Spike was watching him carefully as he ate and took the plate away at the first sign of discomfort.

"You should be back in bed," Spike said as he put the dishes in the sink.

"I’d rather not," Wesley said, "it feels like I’ve been lying down for years. Perhaps the sofa?"

"Okay but you tell me the minute it gets too much."

Spike let him settle on the sofa and then covered him with a blanket.

"You want to listen to the television or music?"

Wesley sighed as he realised that this was what he had been reduced to.
"What are you going to do?" Wesley asked.

"Was going to play on my Game Boy but the paper was delivered earlier, do you want me to read it to you?" Spike said.

"I wouldn’t want to put you to any bother."

"’S not a bother," Spike said, "You’ll just have to listen to the horoscopes as well as the news section."

Spike read the newspaper surprisingly well. There was an animation to his reading that Wesley had not expected and he read with an easy to listen to pace. In the end the rise and fall of Spike’s voice through the business section lulled him into a doze.

When Spike realised that he let his voice trail off and finished reading the paper himself. When Wesley woke up again Spike continued to read from where they had left off.

Spike’s unusually calm behaviour was beginning to disturb Wesley. He was not used to Spike being so relaxed the vampire normally made it his mission to be seen and heard. He hadn’t felt like questioning Spike in the hospital and he wasn’t sure he was up to it yet but something had changed.

Spike could feel the watcher’s blind gaze assessing him like he was a strange new creature never seen before. Even though Wesley was blind it made him uncomfortable but since he was staring at the watcher it was probably fair.

The watcher fascinated him. The focused professional that had shot his father so easily became a complete geek when faced with social interaction, but both faces seemed to be masks. Spike had a suspicion that man lying on the couch listening to him read was closer to the real Wesley. The man that chewed his lower lip when he was concentrating smiled at things that others wouldn’t find amusing and lost himself in words was closer to the true man.

That was the Wesley Spike wanted to get to know now. Not the Wesley with the spectre of Fred and Angel over them both. Spike didn’t like being alone he knew that about himself, but he had done it before and survived. So wanting to stay and look after Wesley was something else. He knew how easily he could become obsessed and it was possible it was happening here. He would just have to wait and see.

When it started to get dark Spike stretched and padded back into the kitchen. He came out with a bowl of soup and Wesley’s medication.

"Gonna go kill something you be alright for a bit?" Spike asked as he watched Wesley take the medication.

"I’ll be fine. Before you go I would appreciate…" Wesley hesitated still embarrassed to ask for help.

"Human stuff," Spike said, "you want to finish your soup first?"

Wesley spooned some of the soup into his mouth. It was warm and salty and quite pleasant so he finished as much as he could then pushed the blanket off his legs.

Once again Wesley was aware that Spike’s senses would know exactly what he was doing in the bathroom but he doubted the vampire really wanted to know anyway. When he was finished he found he was too tired to move so he sat down on the toilet seat and let his mind drift as his body tried to recover.

"Wes?" Spike’s voice broke through the dull ache in his head. "Zoned out on me there. Let’s get you into bed."

Wesley let himself be half led half carried to bed. "Thank you Spike," he said as the blond tucked him into bed.

"It’s nothing," Spike said.

"No it’s something, it’s more than I deserve." Wesley fell asleep as he said the words and didn’t feel the soft brush of lips on his forehead.

When he woke up the headache was worse but the change from blackness to a milky white made the pain bearable though.

Spike heard his exclamation of surprise and hurried into the bedroom. "You alright Wes?" he asked with concern.

"It appears the headache was a precursor to something better," Wesley smiled through the pain, "I may be getting my eyesight back."

"Then I better put some clothes on," Spike said not hiding the joy in his voice.

"Don’t on my account," Wesley replied. There was a vague shape forming in front of his face that could possibly be Spike. He reached out and made contact with Spike’s face carefully running his hand down the defined cheekbone. "I could think of worse things to get my eyesight back for."

"Are you flirting with me?" Spike said with a laugh.

"And if I was?"

"I’d say hurry up and get better."

Wesley laughed and then winced as his headache came back with force.

"You need your meds, you hungry?" Spike moved away.

"I wouldn’t mind some toast and yes I need my meds." Wesley followed Spike into the kitchen.

"Sit down then and I’ll get them."

Wesley sat down, still too tired to object to being fussed over. His stomach wound was hurting more than it had the day before on top of the headache, but he didn’t want Spike to poke at him so he accepted his medication and tried not to wince when he swallowed.

Luckily Spike had turned back to make the tea and he was able to get the pills down. The tea was exactly what he needed and Wesley relaxed a little as he inhaled the scent of Earl Grey.

Shapes gradually began to take shape in his vision over the day that was very similar to the one before. Spike read him the newspaper and then suggested a book to follow.

The earlier flirting lay between them without being mentioned. Spike was more tactile with him though and Wesley had to admit it felt good to be touched. He had never acted on feelings for another male before choosing to maintain the expected façade his father had instilled in him. The feelings had always been there however and somehow in the partial darkness it was easier to admit to them.

Spike went out on patrol again that night after helping him into bed. This time he was awake for the soft brush of lips tilting his head to capture them with his own. It promised so much more for later and Wesley slept with a smile.

Spike was sprawled out on the sofa when he woke again and made his way carefully into the living room. In the gentle light of dawn Spike was almost completely visible to him and once he put on a long abandoned pair of glasses the blond did come completely into focus. Spike looked drawn and weary even in sleep but his eyes snapped open as soon as Wesley got close.

"Good night last night?" Wesley asked noting the fading bruises and cuts on Spike’s naked chest.

"Worked off a bit of steam," Spike replied pulling a tee shirt over his head and stretching. As the tee shirt pulled over the tussled blond hair it stopped and then was yanked down quickly. "Your sight’s back."

"Almost completely and the headaches have gone," Wesley said with a smile.

"This needs a celebration," Spike said trying to tame his hair as he stood up.

"What would you suggest?" Wesley said, acutely aware of how close he was standing to Spike.

"Tea and crumpets?" Spike grinned.

"You bought crumpets?" Wesley licked his lips at the thought. Spike’s gaze fixed on Wesley’s lips and he forgot to answer.

"Crumpets?" Wesley prompted.

"What? Oh, yes I bought crumpets." Spike smiled.

"Lead on then." Wesley found it impossible to move from his position so close to Spike’s mouth.

"Did you always wear glasses?"

"I wore contacts at Wolfram & Hart but didn’t feel up to finding them this morning."

"I like how I can see your eyes are behind them."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"And if I was?"

"I’d say I was feeling much better." Wesley closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Spike’s.

A soft sigh and then Spike opened to Wesley’s kiss. Careful not to jolt Wesley’s injuries he pulled the other man into his arms. Tongues teased over teeth and then tangled in Wesley’s mouth dragging moans from both and desperate attempts to bring hardening groins together.

The searing pain froze Wesley in place and Spike was instantly pulling away. Pushing aside both his protests and his robe Spike pressed gently against Wesley’s bandages.

At Wesley’s gasp of pain Spike had him swept up and carried back to the bedroom.

Placing Wesley on the bed Spike quickly removed the bandages to reveal a swollen weeping wound pressing against the stitches in his stomach.

"Why didn’t you tell me it was hurting?" Spike hissed in sympathy.

"I didn’t think it was worth worrying about," Wesley said.

"Idiot," Spike replied, "I think you should be back in the hospital."

"No," Wesley said urgently, "no more hospitals. I’ll be alright."

"Fine," Spike gave in to Wesley’s pleading, "but if it gets any worse I’m taking you back."

It did get worse but each time Wesley’s gasped plea weakened Spike and he kept washing out the area and forcing antibiotics down Wesley’s throat.

As the fever mounted it was only the cool body of the vampire that Wesley could bear next to his skin where the damp cloths failed.

Spike listened to the fever dreams murmuring nonsense replies when Wesley required them. Cursing his inability to do what was needed and take the injured man back to hospital under the desperate pleading to stay. He listened to the guilt and regrets that lanced out of the injured mind along with the infection in the injured body. Wishing it was as easy to cure those as it was to clean out the stitches and fight the infection.

As they lay together on the bed Spike would tell Wesley things about his own past in payment for the fevered confessions. Not sure if Wesley would remember any of it but grateful for the chance to talk about it out loud.

Finally the raging heat began to leach out of the weakened body and Spike let himself believe that Wesley would make it. It wasn’t until those blue eyes opened and actually saw him that he let himself relax.

"That wasn’t pleasant," Wesley said his voice raspy with disuse.

"No it wasn’t," Spike said with a soft laugh offering him a glass of water with a straw.

"Thank you for staying and not taking me to hospital." Wesley sipped gratefully of the cooling liquid.

"You’re welcome," Spike said gruffly.

"Thank you for talking to me as well. It was nice not to feel alone."

"Good, you won’t ever have to again."

"You don’t have to stay you know, not just for me."

"Why else would I?"

They stared at each other in silence for a while each looking for something to explain the other’s feelings.

"We’re a lot alike you and I," Spike finally spoke, "both flawed champions."

"Both haunted by the actions of others," Wesley added understanding more of his fever dreams and what wasn’t part of the dream.

"We’ve both lost loved ones and survived."

"Perhaps we could continue to survive together," Wesley suggested.

"Yeah, that would be nice."

It was nice to have the cool slim body slide down beside him and hold him without the fever place kisses across his brow and see him for who he could finally believe he might be.

END