A New Start
Chapter Two – First Day of Life
By Crow Skywalker
Disclaimer – Don't own BtVS or its characters. They belong to Joss.
Author's Notes – Hahaha, poor Spikey. *Referees to last line* I'm kind of wondering what I'm getting myself into, actually. I don't watch Angel, so I have no clue what's going on in that show right now. But I don't think it'll really matter I this fic, and if I need to know something, I'll be sure to ask or look it up. Hahaha…and I didn't know what to use for Spike's last name, so yes, I stole Will's name from Pirates of the Caribbean. Get it? Spike -William Turner…hahaha. Yeah, I'm not funny :P Anyway, yeah, this chapter came out fast, didn't it? That's because I've been writing a lot these past few days. Oh, and thanks for the reviews! Keep R&R'ing! :D
Pairings/Warnings – Rated R for language and sexual themes. Spike/Buffy. You've been warned.
Summary – Set after "Chosen". The Powers have given Spike a second chance at life and love.
The hospital wasn't very busy as it turned out, since it was still very early in the morning. A few nurses were going around checking on patients with carts full of different colored pills, and a secretary sat where she was stationed busily filing her nails. All in all, the place was pretty empty, and there was a strange quietness that gave Spike the creeps.
He stood in the doorway to his room, looking at the shirt they had given him in disgust. It was a normal white T-shirt, but it was something he would have never worn unless he absolutely had to. They had also given him a pair of black pants, the stretchy kind that people who worked out normally wore. They weren't so bad, but he would be glad once he got his own clothes. He peered up and down the halls, hoping nobody he knew caught him in such a silly outfit.
Whistler was down the hall talking quietly with one of the doctors. His hands were moving dramatically, and Spike raised an eyebrow. Whistler had been talking to the doctor for a while now, and the doctor still bore that same emotionless face, his lips curved in a frown. Every now and then their voices would rise, and Spike could hear bits and pieces of what was going on, but that was all. He missed his vampire hearing.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, Whistler turned to him and came forward, the doctor in tow. Whistler had a smirk on his face, and Spike began to wonder what was going on.
"You're free to go," Whistler informed him once he was standing in front of him, "Thanks to my keen arguing skills."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Like they'd keep me in here anyway."
"Mr. Turner, do you realize you've been in a coma for weeks, and we are not allowed to release you just yet?" Came the doctor's stern voice, and Spike looked at the other man in confusion.
Turner? He thought, looking at Whistler, who shrugged and gave him a 'go with it' kind of look. "Oh, yes," He hesitated as he looked back at the doctor, "The coma…that I was in. Well I'm awake and…good now, so no worries!"
The doctor studied him for a moment before shaking his head and looking away. From beside him, Whistler grinned.
"So William my boy," He took Spike by the arm, leading him off, "Let's go."
"William?" Spike raised an eyebrow at this, and the shorter man shrugged.
"You don't really intend to keep 'Spike' as your name, now that you're human, do you?" He asked, winking at a nurse as they passed by her. Spike rolled his eyes.
"And what's wrong with it? I've gone by 'Spike' for centuries, and I plan on it being my name for as long as I'm…alive," He finished, and it felt weird saying it. Alive. He was alive! He could do all the normal things humans could do, like walk in the sun and enjoy real food!
"It's just that," Whistler paused, "It's not a real name, you know?"
"And what kind of name is Whistler?" Spike shot back, and Whistler raised his hands in defeat.
"Okay, okay." They were at the front entrance of the hospital now, and Spike hesitated as Whistler opened the front door. "Well?"
Spike looked outside at the glowing morning sun, feeling the warmth it gave off. It was all so new to him, feelings and sights he'd long forgotten. For the first time since Drusilla changed him, he could walk in the light and watch the sunset – probably the few things he'd actually missed when he had become a vampire.
With a deep breath, he took his first step into the light.
It was a small apartment, just room enough for one. It had a kitchen that was spotless, it's silverware and china carefully put away, and a living room with a small couch and television. Off to the side was a door leading to the bathroom, and across from that was the main bedroom.
Spike frowned, setting the shopping bags down and looking around at his new surroundings.
The first thing they had done after Spike had gotten out of the hospital was go somewhere to eat. Spike's stomach had been rumbling – something he'd forgotten about as a vampire, since vampires craved something different than food – and they had went to the nearest restaurant for food. Bacon and eggs had never tasted so good to him.
Next on their list of things to do, they headed to the nearest clothing store, where Spike picked out a few items for his new wardrobe. Having paid for them with the money Whistler had handed him, he hadn't even bothered to wait until he got home to change into them. Now, standing in his new leather pants and he black top, he was studying Whistler's small apartment.
"It's not much," Whistler said, having seen the look on his face.
"I'd say." Spike muttered, and Whistler chose to ignore him.
"But it's home." The shorter man finished, taking off his shoes and entering the kitchen. He went immediately to the fridge, taking out two cold beers. "Until you move out, that is." He handed one of the beers to Spike, and he opened the other for himself.
Spike sat on the couch, opening his beer as well. "I never did ask, but how did you come about all this?" He indicated to his surroundings, and then looked down at his clothes, "Where'd you get all the money?"
Whistler laughed. "My little secret."
"Well, I'm guessing you don't have a job, so I'll just assume you stole it." Spike took a swig from the bottle.
"Speaking of jobs, we'd better find you one, eh?" Whistler sat next to him, and Spike raised an eyebrow at what he had just said.
"Oh, that's right," Whistler looked at him, a grin on his face, "You've never had to work before. Well, you see, in this day in age, people work to get money –"
"I know that," Spike snapped, "But what the hell does that have to do with me?"
"You don't expect to stay here with me forever, do you?" Whistler raised an eyebrow in amusement. "At some point you're going to have to move out, and to live on your own, you're going to need money. And it's not even like you can kill people and steal it anymore."
"Like I could kill people and steal before I became all human." Spike rolled his eyes sarcastically, putting the bottle to his lips again.
"Yeah, I'd image it was hard to do those things with a chip in your head and a soul and everything," Whistler mused.
"So how do you expect me to get a job?" Spike asked, closing his eyes and letting the alcohol consume him. "Like anyone would hire a no-named wanker who knows nothing about working."
"Well, I know one person who might be able to help you." Said Whistler, and there was a evil glint in his eyes. Spike frowned. He didn't like the sounds of this.
"The poofter?" Spike scrunched up his nose, obviously disgusted, "If I ever saw him again it would be too soon!"
Whistler laughed. "I figured that's what your reaction would be," And with a smile on his face he added, "It's good pay, you know. And you'd be helping him help others, which is good too. And best of all, you'd be a great help to them."
"Forget it." Spike snapped.
Whistler shrugged. "Fine then. We'll just get you a job at McDonalds.."
Spike growled in frustration. Whistler did have a point – he really did need a job. One that paid good, too. And working with Angel would be good too, because he knew a lot about vampires and other nasties. But actually working with Angel? Him and Angel working along side each other for the greater good? He shook his head. It would be disasterous.
"…and you can wear one of those hats, you know? But you'll have to smile a lot," Whistler went on to say.
Spike finally gave in. "Fine, call up Angel. Tell him what's going on." He sighed then, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands as he felt the effects of the alcohol.
"I knew you'd see it my way," Whistler grinned, reaching over to pick up the phone.
Spike shook his head, wondering what he was getting himself into.
To Be Continued…