Xander groaned in pleasure as the constant searing pain he’d had for the past few hours finally left him. It seemed like he’d been in pain forever, though he knew it could only have been a few hours. He felt lighter than he had in a very long time.
Now that the pain was gone, everything seemed clearer. He still didn’t know where he was, but he could tell that it wasn’t the same place he was before the pain drove him to oblivion. He was now on a moderately soft and comfortable surface, whereas before he was on a hard, unforgiving, cold, flat surface that felt like concrete. This was a change he was grateful for.
Obviously, Spike had gotten help after he’d been kidnapped. Buffy probably gave them hell and sent those guys home, crying to their mommies. He would have paid good money to see that. Well, he would have had he not been unconscious.
He was curious as to what they had wanted him for, but he figured he’d get the whole story when he got up enough energy to open his eyes and ask. Right now he was content to lay there and rest. He was so tired.
“Xander? Come on, my boy. You’ve slept quite long enough. We’ve been looking forward to talking to you for a while now.” Giles’ voice floated into his mind.
Obviously, Giles had no intention of letting him just rest. They wanted to do the question answer thing right now. Xander supposed he could, maybe, possibly, gather the energy to grunt, but that was about the extent of his physical exertion right now. What had those freaks done to him? He was never this tired after a kidnapping.
“Xander. Wake up.” Xander felt light taps to his face to accompany the tempting voice.
He wanted to wake up. He didn’t want them to worry. He was just so, very tired. Sleeping for a few weeks sounded pretty good to him, but he knew he couldn’t. He needed to get up now. There was something not right about this. He recognized this feeling of wrongness from before the soft, cushiony surface he was laying on. He had it when he couldn’t move for Willow, when he was laying on the hard, concrete surface.
“Xander, can you hear me? It’s time for you to wake up. You’ve been asleep for quite a long time now, and frankly, you’re scaring us all.” Giles voice didn’t seem as cultured as it did moments before. He actually did sound scared, and that scared Xander.
Pulling all the strength he had, Xander attempted to open his eyes. He struggled for several minutes, fighting his body to obey him. Nothing happened. Xander could feel frustrated and angry tears gathering in his eyes, but as hard as they were to open, he didn’t know if they would even get the chance to fall. He had a feeling he’d cried a lot of silent tears recently, but couldn’t remember crying them.
He wanted to know what happened. He wanted to know what they had done to him, and why. He wanted so many things right now. A cool drink for his parched throat, a warm bath for his dirty body, some food for his rumbling stomach, to open his eyes and see Giles, who he could feel standing just inches from him, to move, and joke, and not be scared. But most of all he wanted to open his damn eyes.
Xander was amazed when he felt the tears that had been gathering in his eyes, fall down his cheek, running into his ears and then his hair. It felt like a victory, a win for the home team. He may not be able to open his eyes and see the world right now, but at least he could cry damn it.
“Xander, what’s wrong? Are you awake?” Giles asked frantically, at what Xander supposed was the sight of his tears, running steadily down his face. “Xander, if you can hear me, rest. We’ll get this figured out. I promise. I’m going to take a little bit of blood from you. Hopefully we can figure out what’s wrong.” Giles said, moments before Xander felt a sharp prick to the base of his thumb. He could feel the warmth of his blood as it run down his hand, which he assumed was being held over a collection cup or some thing similar.
“Just sleep. I’ll be back shortly.” Xander felt a cool hand on his head, then Giles was gone. Xander fell back into an exhausted sleep.
~*~
Spike lay on his cot in one of the unused store rooms. It was the only room in the building that didn’t have windows, so it was deigned his room. He could walk around the building during the day as long as the boards where put up on the window, which they were almost all of the time. He just didn’t trust sleeping where a stray beam of sunlight could hit him is someone weren’t being careful.
Here, in his own little sanctuary, Spike can contemplate the state of affairs that has become his life. If it hadn’t been for the Initiative, he’d be safely away somewhere in Europe, or at least on the east coast. But, it was because of the Initiative, he ended up stranded here, relying on the Do-Gooders to help him get through his unlife. And he doesn’t know that he would change a thing.
Sure, he wished it had never happened sometimes, but it did, and it taught him so much. There was a depth to people that he hadn’t even known was there when he was alive. They were capable of so much, including forgiveness, the one he is most thankful for. His little band of Do-Gooders specifically, forgave him for all the hell he’d brought on them in the past, before the Initiative and after. He’d never forget them for that.
They’d helped him to make a home here, friends, even a family. Eventually, even Buffy had given up on the patented ‘Stake Spike’ missions. She’d given up on that and been his friend. Giles had begun to talk to him of home, and the things he’d missed. They even sat on the ex-watchers couch a few times and watched a Rugby game or two. He’d become the father figure to Spike that he’d been to the rest. More of a father figure than his own father or sire had ever been.
Then there was Anya, his fellow impotent demon. They’d bonded over past mayhem and pain. It’d been fun to have someone to share that with. She’d been one of the first to see him as a person instead of a demon, because she knew that a demon was what you were, not who you were. And the Witches. They’d babied him from time to time, when he’d become melancholy. They’d become his confidants, his sounding boards, his constant cheerleaders. They’d been what he believe sisters would have been.
Then there was Xander. Always Xander. His friend, his brother, his newest partner in crime. The one who made him laugh at his situation, without malice, but with humor. The boy who could go out and fight demons bigger, stronger, faster than him and more invincible, yet go home every night to get wailed on by his own parents. The one friend who’d cared more about Spike’s safety than his own, going so far as to save up and move out, simply because Spike was in danger at his house if his parents found him, since he couldn’t fight back. Xander, who stayed up late at night when he had to work the next morning, simply because it was storming out and he didn’t want Spike to have to sit up and be alone while he’d slept. The one who remembered to get pizza without garlic, or stocked the fridge with half a dozen bags of human blood a week. Xander, always there, even when he wasn’t.
The same Xander who’d been freed from the Initiative two days ago, and had neither woken nor moved. Two days of sitting beside his bed, hoping he’s open his chocolate colored eyes, only to be sadly disappointed when the sun came up and he’d yet to stir.
Spike was losing hope that the boy would ever awaken. He’d prayed to every god he’d ever heard of, for the past long while, that they would get the boy back, alive and well. Well, they got him back, alive, but the well part remained to be seen.
A knock on his door broke Spike from his length introspection. He’d never allow anyone to know that he acted like the Poof from time to time.
“Come in.” Spike called, sitting up on his cot, holding his head in his hands for a moment, before rubbing them through his hair and across his face.
The door opened and admitted Willow and Giles. This was not an abnormal occurrence. Numerous people would come to him during the day, for advice, for orders, just to talk. Giles and Willow just happened to be the only two that came to him as a friend, instead of a Commanding Officer or mentor.
This visit was different though. They hadn’t been to see him together since Xander had been brought back, because one of the three of them had always been with Xander. Now here both of them were. That scared Spike.
“Why isn’t one of ya with Xander? Somethin’ h’appen to ‘im? What’s goin’ on?” Spike fired off, jumping up from his cot.
“We found out something, and we need your help.” Giles started, taking his glasses from his face. “I was trying to get Xander to wake up earlier. He never responded, but tears fell from his eyes, which lead me to believe that he could hear me, but something was keeping him from moving, or responding. So I ran some tests. I took some of his blood and used it in a ritual, to see if it had been contaminated, or drugged. The test came back positive. I was hoping you could possibly tell me what he’s drugged with, so we can try to counter act it.” Giles held out a small cup, containing blood
Spike could tell from the smell alone that it was Xander’s, he’d smelled it enough from living with him and tending various injuries to know it anywhere. He could also tell something was off. It didn’t smell quite right.
Shakily, Spike took the cup from Giles while Willow watched closely. Taking an unneeded breath, Spike brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. As soon as it hit his palette, Spike spit the foul liquid across the room, luckily turning his head so as not to spray Willow and Giles.
“I used to dream of taking a bath in Xander’s blood, ya know, before. But I’d rather drink battery acid.” Spike said, thrusting the cup and the remaining blood back at Giles.
“What’s wrong with it?” Willow asked worriedly.
“Well, I can tell you there are paralytics in there, more than one. Sedatives, pain killers, psychedelic drugs and numerous other things. I can tell you that the boy hasn’t eaten regularly in quite some time. I can tell you that he’s been sick recently. I can tell you he’s had anesthetics. I can tell ya lots of things.” Spike spat at them, fuming over what had been done to Xander. Spike didn’t want to think of what else he’d tasted in that one drop of blood.
“I know there’s something else by the look you have, Spike. Don’t keep this from us. What else was in there?” Giles implored, laying a calming hand on Spike’s shoulder.
Spike turned his head and looked at Giles. Even here, with the chip disabled, and the Initiative far behind him, the memories were brutal. He couldn’t contemplate what they’d done to Xander.
“There’s a mixture of bloods there. Most of it Xander’s, but some of it….some of it’s demon. The bloody fucks have been giving him demon blood. What kind of demon, I don’t know. Could be one, could be several. Never made a habit of eating the demon population.” Spike whispered.
“Willow, send a unit down to the Initiative. See if they can find out anything from the surrounding community. Get me all the information you can. I want it yesterday.” Giles said, turning to face a tear stricken Willow.
Willow took a deep breath to steady herself, then went to do as she was told, resolve face firmly in place. “I’ll go with them.”
“Spike, I have some natural herbs that should help clean out Xander’s system safely. I’ll need your help. Get some of the guys to boil a lot of water. He’s going to need to drink a lot of water to keep from dehydrating, and he’s going to get a fever. Hopefully, he’ll be back with us shortly.” Giles said, walking out of the small room and down the corridor.
Spike went to do as he was told, giving them instructions to keep some water boiling and bring in a new pot every hour. After that was finished, Spike headed to the makeshift library where Xander was. He prayed that Rupert was right.
~*~
It was a grueling process. For hours, all they did was feed Xander herbs boiled in water, wiped him down from the fever he started having after about the first five minutes, change the bedclothes from vomit, and start all over.
Spike hated it. He wanted to kill those bastards more every time Xander threw up, or whimpered in pain. He wanted to rip them from limb to limb, every time Xander thrashed around widely, in the throws of hysteria, or fever induced delusion. He wanted to blow up the whole damn town when Xander finally opened eyes, and his pupils were so dilated that there were no irises, and the whites were bloodshot red.
Spike was about ready to call it quits. He didn’t care if it took months for Xander to wake up, but it had to be better than watching him go through this. Before he got the words out though, Giles broke the tense silence that had only been punctuated by painful noises from Xander.
“That’s it. That’s all we can do. When this fever passes in a few moments, we’ll know if it worked or not.” Giles said, taking a step back and wiping sweat from his forehead. The two helpers Spike had brought in halfway through let out a tense sigh, and went to stand in the corner of the room, out of the way, but close in case they were needed.
Spike moved to sit by Xander’s head. Combing his hands through Xander’s sweat soaked hair, he waited, praying that it had worked, that everything would be ok. Only a few minutes later, Xander groaned.
Spike moved to grab the pot in case Xander vomited again. He didn’t, after moving his head back and forth a little, something he’d only been able to do for the past hour, they were rewarded for their efforts when Xander opened his glassy eyes and blinked up at them.
Xander glanced at the two in the corner, confusion plain in his gaze. Then his eyes landed on Giles, and he smiled sleepily. Next, they fell on Spike, and he smiled more, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
“I’d hoped you got out of the street before sunrise.” Xander said, his voice hoarse and weak.
“I was fine after the shock wore off.” Spike said, smiling affectionately at Xander’s concern.
“Don’t think I did. But it’s ok now, right?” Xander asked hopefully.
“yeah, it’s ok now.” Spike whispered.
“Good.” Xander smiled again before his eyes fell closed and he drifted off to sleep once more.