Two weeks after the accident
"You comfortable, Pet? Need anything? I can get the nurses to give ya more pillows. You hungry? I can send the Slayer down to get ya some food when she gets here." Spike fussed about the small hospital room, asking questions non-stop, wanting to fluff Xander's pillows every five minutes.
"Spike."
Spike continued around the room, mumbling question after question. He'd just gotten there that evening. He was always like this when he came in after the sun set. He hated being away from Xander during the day, and Xander knew that, but frankly, he was sick of it.
"Spike!" Xander yelled at the fluttering vampire.
"Yes, pet?" Spike stopped in the middle of the room, pausing his cleaning of the already spotless room, to look at Xander.
"If you don't stop, sit down, and shut up, I'm going to have them send you home at dawn." Xander threatened, not even looking away from the spot on the ceiling he'd been staring at for the past week that he'd been regularly conscious.
Spike's shoulders slumped. He looked around the room for a minute, then shuffled over to a chair in the corner. "Sorry." He whispered. He should have been used to it by now. For the first week after the accident, Xander'd been so doped up on pain medicine and other drugs, that he hadn't even realized he was in the world. For the past few days, they'd been lowering the pain medication, so Xander had been more aware of the world around him. The first day he'd been completely coherent, the doctors had informed Xander of his situation, and he hadn't taken it well.
For four days, Xander lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He didn't say much to anyone. He showed absolutely no emotion at all. This wasn't Spike's Xander. Spike wasn't sure it would ever be his Xander again, and that thought scared him more than anything. But he didn't know what to do to change it.
Xander took a deep breath. He didn't mean to be snarky at Spike. He didn't mean to be snarky to anyone. He knew they were trying to deal, just like he was. He just wished they could find some other way, instead of hovering and crowding. He wanted them to stop doing things for him. He wanted to be able to do them for himself.
Spike had told him the day before that he'd talked to the landlord. There had been an apartment identical to theirs, but on the ground floor of the apartment building. Spike was spending his days moving their things there. The landlord had told them that they could move back upstairs if things changed, and the apartment was still open. Four years in the same apartment, and because of five seconds, surrounded by hours that he couldn't remember, and they had to move.
His boss had been in to see him the day before that. He'd told him that the company was going to pay him all his holiday and vacation pay for the year, but that they had to move someone else into his brand new position, since it was a given Xander wouldn't be able to come back to work. Four years in the same job, the only one he'd liked, and had been able to keep, and now he had nothing but a hefty check that he couldn't even spend.
The next day was full of tests, to see just how extensive the damage to his spine was, and if it'd be repairable. They said the prognosis wasn't good, but not to give up hope. They'd also told him that even if he was able to walk again, he wouldn't be able to with out a brace, or a cane at the least. Almost his entire left leg was being held together by steel pins. He'd set off every metal detector in the terminal if he had to fly somewhere.
The day after that, he had an appointment in the morning with a career counselor. They wanted to discuss his employment options after they find out if he'd walk again. He didn't see where there would be much in the way of employment in his future. After that, he had an appointment with a Social Services representative. They needed to discuss programs he'd be eligible for, concerning financial help for his monthly bills, and the hospital bills, while he was out of work, and options, just in case he wasn't ever able to go back to work.
Between his friends, doctors, representatives from various agencies, his boss�ex-boss, and a semi truck with no brakes, he had no say in his life anymore. He couldn't stand that. He also couldn't stand the fact that he could see his legs, touch his legs, see the stitches, and bandages in the one leg, but he couldn't feel it. Sure he was in a lot of pain from the surgery on his back, but he would give just about anything to feel pain from his leg. To be able to get up and go to the bathroom. To feel an itch. To feel anything past his upper thigh. He could feel the upper two inches of both his legs, but nothing below that.
Then there was Spike. The saddened, despairing vampire in the corner, that only left him due to sun exposure during the day, but bypassed even his beloved passions and patrols to sit with him every night, only to get yelled at for doing the only thing he could.
Xander had felt so horrible when he'd first woken up in recovery. He'd remembered immediately that he and Spike had a date that night. Their first year anniversary. Picnic dinner under the stars, romantic candle lit bubble bath afterwards, hours and hours of sex. A smile ghosted Xander's face for just a second when he thought of the plans he and Spike had made for the occasion. He'd cried for nearly an hour, apologizing to Spike for missing their date. He'd been sure the world had actually ended, seeing as that was what told Spike would be the only thing to make him miss it.
And his world had ended when they told him he probably would never walk again. His nice safe, demon infested world, where the only thing he really had to think about was what kind of weapons he'd have to bring on patrol that night, had ended. Now he was in this world where he didn't know anything. He wasn't sure what he'd be doing within the month, much less five years from now. He'd had it all mapped out, him and Spike. All of their plans had been destroyed, not by some demon hell bent on taking over the world at three o'clock in the morning, but by a semi-truck that had missed it's last maintenance appointment.
Boy, life could throw one hell of a curve ball.