A Few Split Ends - Guest Apartments
Continued from: Darkness has Fallen, but hope is there.
Always such a fine line between what were complex fabrications of the vampire’s mind, so often the two blurred and if the strength of his focus permitted more often then not Spike managed to be productive and seemingly saner then most could hope for. At least compared to how he once was, Arisa and Rogue would have seen the sides of him that few ever got a chance to.
The vampire’s eyes remained content in their closed state, all he had to do was rest more, stretch out a little, curl against the floor… that’s all, that’s how simple it was to rest. The sleep in the Taxi was brief and interrupted, it teased the tired mind and battered body. As if the physical abuse of his daily work wasn’t enough of a toll, the last few days of fights and alcohol with the addition of a lacking of sleep… He’d only just started to be able to rest his eyes, only just started to feel the unbearable toll of hunger and pain… that’s when Arisa returned, robbing him of the sleep he needed and yet pushing the vampire to take the step he had perhaps avoided with the shame of knowing how his feeding habits and Arisa’s involvement must be looked upon by these people.
Strong hands seemed to scoop up the blonde and blue eyes opened in response, though they fluttered closed again almost dismissively while thoughts assessed what was happening. So few have ever actually picked Spike up, he wasn’t exactly the kind most people tried to cradle and usually if Spike was grabbed up it was hardly out of affection. Though, there had been a time that was possible… long before the years where Angelus would drag Spike from one thing to another once Spike was so immobilized after whatever abuse he was suffering… a time where things now seemed so much simpler to deal with, even if then it seemed unfair and harsh.
The warmth generated by Hank’s massive form only helped project a more safer illusion, the booming sensation of the large heart echoing through the both of them as tantalizingly tempting as the sense of comfort that also came with it. Spike always liked it when Arisa curled near him, even if he tried so hard to dissuade the child from such close proximity when he could, he’d not forbid her from being too near when she was distressed for any reason. It just happened that Arisa had a few times were she needed the comfort and with everything going on in her life Spike was just as needy when it came to trying to comfort her. The way her tiny heart thumped within her chest, her little body curled so trustingly near his, her tail often wrapping itself about either his arm or herself in some fashion.
Blue eyes briefly fluttered open, they were in a hall now, the swoosh of the med bay doors closing behind them and Spike’s face tilting back enough till he could spot Arisa, their fight to stay open soon after ceasing as she was spotted so near. The vampires cheek brushed against the doctors form, a brief rumbling sound that could be class more as a ‘purr’ then the sigh it was supposed to be came from the depths of Spike’s throat. The hand not pinned by the position Hank held him in was draped lazily over the side of Spike’s face as he seemed to shift himself as best he could more facing the doctor, a hand helping block the light which poured from the bulbs along the hall. There were occasions where the unnaturally still form of the vampire would flinch lightly, his hand seemed to have taken to touching the tips of his fingers against the visible scar on his eyebrow. The fact it hadn’t healed perfectly was an obvious sign that the scar was received before the body had died, back when the natural healing process attempted to take care of it but healed with the flaw so common when fighting to repair such damage on the body.
Getting struck in the head with a horse hoof was dangerous, so a scar from the ordeal was hardly the worse that could have happened to a kid not too far off his teen years. The pain aside it had proved to be one of the rare few times young William’s father ever held his son and so the arguing between mother and father was blissfully ignored as a moment of rare non-aggressive contact was shared between father and son. Granted the walk from out front the house and then up the stairs to the upper floor was not all that long, but it was still grasped onto as a precious memory and who cares if the father stank of whiskey and if the injury was received due to his drunken recklessness… It was amazing how forgiving a desperate child could be, even in a semi-conscious state.
Stairs? The walk up them only helped stirred the memories that flickered behind the vampire’s closed eyes. Distant yells echoed past events, a mothers voice telling off the father and his voice increasingly growing angrier at the accusations. Pale fingers seemed to gently clasp the material Hank wore, fingers gradually clamping the fabric into the vampires grasp, barely seen blue eyes peeked up sleepily before once again vanishing as pale thin brown and black tipped lashes drew together once again. Yet as the top of the stairs were reached, there was no exchange as the memories recalled, no strong arms half shoving the boy from one parent to the next in a burst of indignant rage as screams escalated even more and the drunk departed with arms thrown in the air…undoubtedly off for another round of drinks with friends to drown the stress of the last ten minutes.
It seemed a blackness of dreamless sleep fell on the vampire for a brief span of time, for the walk between the stairs to entering a room had completely gone unnoticed. Yet here they were, guided carefully into a room, voices started around him and yet if they were real or not it was near impossible to tell, the words were heard yet weren’t clear.
"Mrs Millerworth’s cat, he didn’t see the carriage." Mumbled words were spoken softly as Spike lingered in a state between dream and awake, much like the odd occasion Arisa would have heard random things said as Spike shifted half asleep when dreaming of memories of his life, his tone of voice always so tender or insecure. (Though he could go the exact opposite at times with a snarl and the occasional swear word thrown out before he rolled over in silence once more). Even the rough accent that cut into Spike’s words fell away, leaving a pure bred English accent with all words perfectly pronounced. "I didn’t mean to get in the way." Children often did silly things and running in front of a horse drawn carriage to grab up a deaf cat was as noble as it was daft and yet somehow as a child Spike had thought that the chattering drunks would have noticed a boy rush out in front of them, yelling for them to stop. Obviously not, not even when they started yelling at the startled horses. Ah well… score one for little William regardless, cat was saved.
Spike’s eyes opened a little, but the illusion his mind created fell away instantly, this wasn’t his room, these weren’t his family, this wasn’t even his time. The modern world was slowly but surely washing away the remnants of the 1800’s and with it everything that Spike had grown up to. Once again his face twisted and turned in search for Arisa and the tension forming eased as he spotted her nearby, his hand still clutching onto Beast as he looked for her. It wasn’t exactly a terrible thing to wake up to, not after over a thousand years spent in and out of three various hell dimensions, courtesy of Drusilla portals with Angelus planning the flightpaths.
The hand not grasping Hank, but pinned between the two bodies was wiggled free easily and reached out for Arisa, Spike’s fingers only briefly brushing against her before he went rather limp again, almost instantly as his eyes closed again, a tense ache of his stomach causing his face to scrunch slightly from the sharp pain.
"…You’re scarier when you’re insane." Spike randomly stated as Beast approached the bed, eyes opening once again to stare at the mutants furred face almost curiously, though exhausted eyes remained slightly drooped, being drunk didn’t help with keeping his eyes open either.
She had looked up the definition once, when she was younger. It was ‘a deep feeling of affection,’ the musty page had told her, ‘emotional attachment.’ She had then sought out the meaning of the word affection, followed by the words emotional and attachment. Reading the definition over once more she found satisfaction in it’s meaning, and closed the book, returning to her childhood.
Her first understanding of love was a memory, aged and vague, that floated through her mind like something faint and forgotten as she padded close behind behind the Doctor and the crumpled mass in his arms. Her interpretation of the word had broadened and morphed over time. It could be used in a million different ways to mean a million different things, but now her mind was back on the original definition. A feeling of affection, endearment, fondness..blue eyes struggled open to look back at her, and she knew there were all those things. Emotional attachment? She had supported him invariably, just as he had done for her; she was here with him now. Yes, she had that. Even if it wasn’t in a romantic sense, there was no doubt in her mind that she loved Spike. As her guardian, her family, and her friend, she loved him; and in loving him she was currently worried sick.
Trailing silently behind the large form in front of her, tail flicking anxiously, her thoughts trailed over the conversation that had just occurred seconds ago. If she had stopped to think it would have only made sense for them to stay at the institute, there were always guest rooms open for medical patients and his condition certainly warranted it.. it was just that she had automatically connected the hotel, particularly Spike’s room, as the ultimate safe place. His room had become the home-base of comfort, and an embodiment of safety to the feral. It was where he watched over her when Willow was playing mind-games, or where she would sooth the vampire when he was lost inside terrible memories. It had only made sense that that was where she would take him when he was sick.
Only trouble was, this was not the sort of sick they were accustomed to dealing with. To help him recover they were going need more than gentle words, they needed a doctor.
And it was a very lucky thing they had just that, Hank's capability in both the mental and the physical becoming more and more apparent as he paced quickly and effortlessly up the staircase and through a doorway; moving all the while with Spike nestle into his arms as if he were as light and delicate as a kitten.
"Mrs Millerworth’s cat, he didn’t see the carriage. I didn’t mean to get in the way."
That was the voice, the quiet, edgeless voice he used when he mumbled in his sleep. It was the only time she ever heard him speak in perfect English, all the rough personality falling out of his tone and leaving a smooth English accent that was pleasant, but unfamiliar. It meant he was lost in another time, another place.
As she moved up beside Doctor McCoy, she could see that Spike’s eyes were droopily shut. He clung to Hank as he opened his eyes slowly, a tense expression straining his face until he found her worried eyes fixed on his limp figure. Tugging an arm free, he stretched for her weakly, her hand quickly reaching to give his a gentle squeeze, a reassuring smile tugging at her lips.
His arm fell loose to his side, and his face contorted faintly with discomfort, causing her to wince sympathetically, tail twitching. He spoke up once more, this time in the voice she knew,
"…You’re scarier when you’re insane."
Her light brow furrowed, arms wrapped across her waist. Insanity was a blur between action and thought, past and present, real and imagined. It was a line that people tried all their lives never to cross. But once it was crossed, once their feet had passed over it, over the line..it was almost impossible to find again. Edited by: In Shadows Keep at: 7/24/06 9:28 am
Re: A Few Split Ends - Guest Apartments
There had been no resistance as Hank had scooped up the seemingly frail figure of the vampire only a weary acceptance that the doctor didn’t know whether to see as a good sign or a further source of concern. In any case it made the journey to the guest rooms easier and for that at least the blue furred mutant was grateful. Stress had already taken a heavy toll on the blond man he carried so easily that much was clear. And why shouldn’t have, after all he was struggling with a situation of such complexity, both morally and intellectually that anyone would have buckled under its weight. Add to that the physical changes Arisa’s blood was working on his long dead body and collapse wasn’t so much a possibility as a foregone conclusion.
Thank god though that they had had the sense to come back to the Institute when things got to this point. Left to his own devices and the tender but inexperienced ministrations of Logan’s youngest daughter it was far from certain that Spike would have made it through the experience intact. Even now with all the Institutes resources at his disposition and Hanks expertise to help him along the risks were immense. That Spike would survive he could declare with confidence. That his mind wouldn’t shatter once under the strain, that was another thing altogether. Still if they did nothing the threat of insanity was perhaps even greater. It was a dilemma to be sure. And like all dilemmas it had no easy solution.
As if sensing the doctors preoccupation Spikes eyes fluttered anxiously open seeking Arisa’s presence as a drowning man seeks air. Reassured by her nearness he settled down once more a contented purr escaping him bringing a smile to Hanks lips despite his worry. After all he was enough of a feline himself to feel encouraged by Spike’s reaction. A realisation that didn’t seem to have escaped the vampire, or at least his subconsciousnce for he suddenly announced "Mrs Millerworth’s cat, he didn’t see the carriage. I didn’t mean to get in the way." The cultured voice came as a surprise being far removed from the cockney accented English Spike usually spoke but his train of associative thought was not difficult to follow. *A well at least the cat I remind him of seems to have been a tom.* Hank thought wryly . *Let us be thankful for small mercies.*
Suddenly his patient was more fretful and Hank looked down to see that the troubled eyes were open again, any brief respite they might have known gone now as some semblance of reality leaked back in. Now he wasnt content with merely seeing Arisa he actively saught to make contact with her. Hank moved slightly to let Spike free his hand and grasp hers then let it go just as abruptly as a spasm of pain wracked his body.
If only he would feed, really feed not the half hearted attempt he had made previously where scarcely any nourishment ad found its way into him.! It was frustrating to have a means to ease his discomfort at hand and yet to be unable to persuade him to take it and Hank was busy trying to think of ways round the predicament when Spike spoke again looking directly into the feline mutants face with something like lucidity in his eyes. "…You’re scarier when you’re insane.".
At the time Hank was as baffled as Arisa seemed to be by the strange declaration. Just days later he feared he understood all to well what the vampire had meant. There had been a counterpart Beast in that savage hellish world that they called Lost Angels who had been driven by overwhelming loss to madness and suicide. Had Spike met him there, perhaps even had a hand in is downfall? It was possible, likely even but even if it were true…. That was there and then and this was here and now. Whatever Spike had been or done in the past at the moment he was a patient , more, he had a place at the Institute and the love of at least some of its members. Which in the end was all that mattered! And when he uttered his most enigmatic phrase it was love and concern that Hank saw reflected in Arisas eyes as she looked questioningly over at him.
Don’t worry my dear” “he told her gently settling his burden into the soft bed. “Its normal that he should be incoherent given the lack of food and the amount of alcohol in his system. I wouldn’t read any more into it than that.” he didn’t have to say anythng else. They both knew how precarious a grip the vampire had on sanity and how easy it would be for him to lose it. Yet he had struggled with all the problems of the past months, and Hank knew that there had been many and none of them easy and still he had held on. That in itself was testimony to his courage and resilience and perhaps also to the role Arisa had played.
Certainly her blood was at the root of many of his woes but her presence had also helped him support them. Hank only hoped that she would go on doing so in the hard times ahead though by the determined look on her face he had nothing to fear on that score. “He will sleep” he said quietly” and all being well, eat when he awakes. That alone will do him the world of good. And if he needs aught else” Hank smiled his great toothed but nevertheless kindly smile “Then we shall be here to see that he gets it, wont we?”
Re: A Few Split Ends - Guest Apartments
The words that were to follow were like echoes of words so similar and alike that it made Spike’s skin crawl at the familiarity of the sentences, along with them the past memories that accompanied such words gave Spike’s features an almost haunted look as he stared up at the ceiling.
"Don’t worry my dear" The world could be falling apart and yet there was always someone around able to speak those words and there were even occasions where those people were deluded enough to actually believe it. "Its normal that he should be incoherent given the lack of food and the amount of alcohol in his system. I wouldn’t read any more into it than that." Oh lord, the amount of times that was said in regards of William’s drunkard father, the ignorance or intentional blind-sightedness of people in relation to the harm that man had done in his intoxicated state was near on sickening. It wasn’t like Rupert earned the money he used to drink, that dumb married into money and never did a thing to deserve it, sure it was all happy go lucky for a little while but at the first sign of stress Rupert had cracked and he never recovered. Though William never knew the man Katherine had married, Rupert had started drinking before William was born and so that was all their son ever knew of the man that was supposed to be his protector and provider.
"He will sleep" Of course… that’s what happened after you drank so much, you’d swagger about and then collapse, but not until you did as much damage as possible, at least that’s how it went back home when Spike was growing up. Only as a vampire had William dared to let the taste of alcohol touch his lips, and only now did he feel the return of the shame that had originally kept him away from any kind of drinks. Was this how things were meant to be? Like father like Son? A product of birth, a drunkard just as dangerous as the man who spawned the vampire… It never mattered really, not once Spike was turned, there was no fear of becoming abusive once the ability to reproduce was taken from him, with no children in his care there was no thought of harming them… no care. But things had changed now, Arisa was a child, she didn’t deserve that, she didn’t deserve any of the things that had gone wrong in her life and if he was something she considered good then what the hell was he thinking letting himself waste away the instant she left his care? Of course Arisa would return, of course she’d feel pressured and upset, and what if she opposed his drinking, or said something, or looked at him in some manner that triggered the same response of violence Spike had seen as a child?
"and all being well, eat when he awakes. That alone will do him the world of good. And if he needs aught else" Spike’s eyes had closed moments earlier, so heavy and weary.. the will to just let him sleep as strong as the will to make sure he wasn’t left alone, not without Arisa, just the presence he felt radiate from her… he needed that right now, nothing else would matter, just as long as he felt that presence nearby, then he’d be ok. A taught sensation gripped the vampire’s stomach, the thin features of his all too paled skin contorted with pain as his body protested to the lack of care and sustenance it was receiving. "Then we shall be here to see that he gets it, wont we?" God he was so tired… his eyes almost started burning, so heavy… but his stomach, everything, it all hurt.
"I’m not incoherent." The protest came with a defensive tone, a slight slur to the words from both the alcohol and looming threat of sleep, Spike’s body twisting about till his face buried itself into the pillow and his body curled. "…’m not like’im, I was always a good lil’boy," The accent returned to Spike’s words, his fine dialect butchered with a street smart attitude and tainted with half spoken and often blurred together words, which now were muffled into the pillow. "I jus’ad a lil’sip…’m not like’im………… no pet’s in the bedrooms ‘Risa, put’im out an’ get to bed." Going from the denial of being anything like his father to having no pets may sound as if his all over the place… however with Spike it was so hard to tell since even at the best of times he tended to jump from one thing to another, and it wasn’t always so off key, he just wasn’t used to talking to people and tended to say whatever thought came to mind, no matter how irrelevant it may seem to others. Then again, he was far from being stable, so what counted as relatively sane discussions for him would most likely not been seen as such in most cases.
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