reality_bends | No longer sleeping the day away.

"I told you I'd do anything for you," Wesley said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Then keep being strong, all right?" Spike continued to slide his fingers through Wesley's hair.

"I will," Wesley said, telling himself sternly that he wasn't going to whine any more. He'd put up with what he had to and keep quiet about it, for Spike's sake.

"I know you will," Spike said with an attempt at a smile. "Because then you'll get to go home and try to kick my ass at Space Ninjas 3000."

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "And I'll do it, too."

"As soon as you figure out that the second you cough or groan or something I'll look at you instead of the screen," Spike replied, smiling more naturally. "And here I thought you were this fine, upstanding gentleman instead of a cheat."

"Upstanding?" Wesley looked up at Spike with his best attempt at mock horror. "God, no. Please tell me you didn't think that?"

"You're not any kind of standing right now," Spike said, grinning. He traced Wesley's lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "No, if you were all manners and morals you'd be dull, wouldn't you? And I know you're not that."

"I'm not?" Wesley asked.

Spike chuckled and shook his head. "No, pet, you're not dull. Not at all."

"Oh, good." Wesley relaxed again. "Neither are you. You're the least dull person I've ever met. I love that about you. Well, I love everything about you."

"You're very easy to please, then," Spike said. He dropped his hand to Wesley's shoulder, its solidity against his palm a welcome reminder that Wesley's frailness was only temporary. "But, no, I doubt many people would call me dull. Not anymore."

"Not anymore?" Wesley echoed. "Were you, once?"

Spike realized his admission too late, and Wesley was still far too sharp, even while drugged. "Some people thought so, back before Dru got her fangs in me." He left out the part where he now agreed with them; it seemed better to keep Wesley thinking as well of him as possible.

"I'm sure you were wonderful," Wesley said loyally, catching Spike's hand and pressing it to his lips.

Smiling at Wesley with a combination of amusement and love that made him feel warm inside, Spike said, "My mum always thought so." He turned his hand in Wesley's grip so that he could thread their fingers together, but whatever he might have said next was cut off as the door opened.

Not letting go of Wesley, Spike turned to find a nurse, this one a bit younger and less friendly than Dolores, entering the room.

With a brief, polite nod to Spike, she went to check Wesley's monitors and asked, "How are you feeling, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce? Are you ready for some more pain medication?"

"I suppose so," Wesley said, at the same time the door opened again and Fred's anxious face peered around the corner.

"Hi," Fred said softly. "Are we interrupting something important? Because we can come back..."

"No," Wesley said. "Come in. Please." He turned to look at the nurse again. "Let's wait on that, if we can?"

She nodded, frowning. "A few minutes. But you really shouldn't be having visitors."

"We won't stay long, but we wanted to see him," Fred said, taking a small step into the room.

The nurse looked over at Fred and apparently didn't judge her to be a huge threat to her patient's well-being. "I'll come back in a little while with his meds, and then you'll have to go."

"Not like he'd be making much sense after anyway," Spike commented, moving back a bit so that Fred could see Wesley more easily, though he didn't yet let go of his hand.

Fred looked small, her shoulders slumped forward. Something about the way her eyes were darting back and forth reminded Wesley of when she'd first come back from Pylea. She looked back over her shoulder into the hallway. "Well, come on, you guys, he's not going to bite you." She smiled apologetically at Wesley as Lorne and Gunn came into the room.

"We promise we'll only stay a few minutes," Lorne told the nurse as she headed out the door.

Gunn and Lorne both looked a bit off, as well -- shell-shocked, perhaps -- and Wesley realized why. "You got them back."

"Yeah," Gunn replied. His voice sounded a bit hollow.

"It was about as much fun as visiting my dear old mother," Lorne said with a grimace as he walked over to the foot of Wesley's bed.

Fred and Gunn trailed after him, and Spike stepped sideways toward Wesley's head to give them room, loosening his grip on his hand in case Wesley wanted to pull away.

"How are you doing?" Fred asked, including both Wesley and Spike in the question.

"Okay," Wesley said, glancing up at Spike and stubbornly clinging to his hand.

"Good. You had us all worried, you know." Fred smiled at Spike and tucked her hair back behind her ear.

"How are you?" Wesley asked.

"Oh, you know... pretty much like you said. Confused. Trying to figure out what's what." She shrugged slightly and looked at Gunn and Lorne. "But at least we knew what to expect, right?"

"Yeah," Gunn said. "Could have been worse."

"You're taking it very well," Spike said, looking suspiciously at the three of them. Since Wesley obviously had no intention of letting go of his hand, he went back to holding it more securely.

"Believe me, lover boy, I'm going to be crying into my glass later on tonight," Lorne said. "But right now it doesn't seem real, and we've got other things to worry about." He smiled down at Wesley.

"They giving you morphine?" Gunn asked, nodding to Wesley's IV bag. "I remember you liking it after you got shot." He seemed a bit stiff, but at least he was making an effort.

"Yes," Wesley said, letting the word answer both the question and the comment. He was starting to feel the sharper edge of the pain again, but he wanted to get through this with as much of his brain working as possible.

"Anyway," Fred said, glancing at Lorne and Gunn again. "We wanted to let you know that we understand. About Connor, and... well, what happened. And a lot's happened since then, and..."

"What Fred's trying to say is that we forgive you for not coming to us and telling us what was going on," Lorne said.

"Not that you need us to," Fred added quickly. "I mean, you were just doing the best you could in a bad situation, and that's all anyone can expect from anyone, right?"

Wesley had no idea what to say.

"I'm glad you lot seem to have gotten through with your senses intact," Spike said, rather relieved by their reaction. The last thing Wesley needed was his friends angry with him.

"Not that we're happy, and not that we don't think some things should've gone differently over the past couple years," Gunn said, "but we get it."

Wesley's face was beginning to look slightly pinched with pain, and Spike silently encouraged the nurse to hurry back.

"Anyway, we just..." Fred smiled crookedly and rather unconvincingly. "We should probably go, you need your rest."

"I'm glad you came by," Wesley said. "Really."

"We wanted to see how you were doing for ourselves," Lorne said. "Angel might be a Champion, but he's no communicator. Getting details out of him is harder than getting on the good side of Mr. Blackwell's list."

"We still don't know much, but the doctor seems happy," Spike supplied.

Gunn nodded. He seemed the most distracted of the three of them, and Spike wondered if he'd had too many changes in his brain in too short of a time. "They've got good doctors here. You're in good hands. Okay, maybe 'good' isn't the right word. Skilled."

The door opened, admitting the nurse again.

"I really am going to have to insist that you leave," she said. "His rest is very important right now."

"We'll stop by again, if that's okay." Fred looked tentatively between Spike and Wesley for approval. "When you're doing better."

"That would be nice," Wesley said, more relieved by everything that had just transpired than he could have put into words. Doing his best not to lose his composure, he looked up at Spike.

Seeing the emotion in Wesley's eyes, Spike squeezed his hand before turning back to the others. "Thanks for coming," he said quietly and sincerely.

Gunn nodded. "I'm glad we could get in for even this long."

"Take care of yourself," Lorne said, patting Wesley gently on the leg. "Both of you."

Fred put her arm around Spike's back and gave him a half hug. "Call us if you need us, all right?" She added pointedly to Spike, "And don't forget to eat and sleep and stuff yourself, too."

"I'm fine," he assured her.

"Of course you aren't, but you will be." Fred squeezed him again, gave Wesley a fairly warm smile, given the confusion in her eyes, and left with the others.

"We should be able to get rid of some of these machines soon," the nurse said as she checked them over. "Are you ready for your medicine now?"

Wesley waited until the door had closed before answering, "Yes. Thank you." He closed his eyes, feeling that if he looked at Spike's kind, worried face again, he might be overwhelmed by his emotions.

They forgave him.

The nurse finished fiddling with the IV and said, presumably to Spike, "See that he gets some rest."

"I will," Spike replied and then went back to trying to read Wesley's expression, which seemed to be wavering somewhere around pained. He suspected that Wesley was trying to keep down what he was feeling, but Spike had no particular interest in letting him. As the door clicked shut behind the nurse he quietly said, "It was good they stopped by."

"Yes," Wesley agreed softly. "I'm sure Angel asked them to."

"Do you really think they would've been in the mood to do anything he asked if they didn't feel like it?" Spike asked. "Give yourself some credit; they care about you. Even now, when they remember everything. Now you know." He was surprised to find that he didn't feel as threatened by that fact as he had in the past. If Wesley decided to stay, Spike knew that he'd still want him with him. He could find a place on the outskirts of their group if he had to.

Wesley nodded and waited for the morphine to kick in. "They're still confused," he said. "Over the next day or so, they'll sort out everything that happened."

"You think they'll change their mind?" Spike asked, though he didn't believe it was likely.

"I don't know," Wesley said, his voice breaking on the last word.

Feeling suddenly guilty for pushing, especially since Wesley was feeling so bad, Spike sat down in his chair. "Sorry," he said, looking down. "I was just... happy for you."

"No," Wesley said, turning to look at Spike. His voice was tight and controlled. "No, I'm sure you're right. I'm just... uncomfortable, and it makes me negative and unpleasant."

"It's all right, love," Spike said, glancing up at him. "The medicine will help you feel better. And time will show which one of us is right."

"I'm sorry," Wesley said, the words easy because it was Spike. "Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not," Spike said quickly, bringing his other hand up to hold Wesley's in both of his. "I'm sorry. Guess I'm not as good at this as I thought."

"Good at what?" Wesley asked, somewhat reassured. He thought he could feel the morphine working, although it was possible that he was imagining it.

"Being supportive. Helpful." Spike sighed. "I'm trying."

"What?" Wesley said. "Love... you're being wonderful. I'm the one who's behaving intolerably."

"You're not. You're hurt. You can act however you want," Spike said, looking seriously into Wesley's face. "I don't mean to push you, to make things more difficult."

Continues here (http://www.livejournal.com/community/reality_bends/72063.html).

No longer sleeping the day away.

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