Disclaimer: I don't own anything that appears in this story. I just like to make the characters do what I say. I get no profit from this besides my own sheer enjoyment.
A/N: First off, thank you SO much for all your amazing reviews! So ladies and gents, some of you have asked for Faith to enter the picture, but I regret to inform you she won't be making an appearance until the very end. Fear not dear readers, for Spike has a very interesting story ahead of him, involving rouge demon hunting, cute werewolves and possibly vampire dusting south of the Rio Grande. Also, this is a crossover story with the Marvel movieverses, notably Blade and X-men (don't worry, I'll explain the Blade-style vamps…and any others that may come along). So please dear readers, stick by me. Don't jump off this Spaith ship just because she isn't here. Enjoy!
For the first month, every waking moment was agony. As far as Spike could discern from the conversations going on around him, almost every bone in his body was broken and he was very, very lucky to be alive. He was also very lucky that out of all the bones left intact, of which there were few, his spine was miraculously in one piece. This had been a great relief to Spike, who had no desire to spend his newfound humanity as a paraplegic.
The people who had found him were good enough to keep him sedated most of the time. By the second month his body seemed to be healed well enough for them to take him off the drugs. Spike did not enjoy this particular bit of his recovery at all. Well that was mostly true. He enjoyed the cute bird they got to sponge off all of his bits that lacked a cast well enough.
It wasn't until the fourth month of his recovery, when the casts were all removed and he spent most of his days in physiotherapy, that he finally met his rescuers. He was walking, well shambling really, when he caught sight of dark curls flouncing around a corner.
Spike felt his heart quicken in his chest. A million maybes swirling in his brain caused him to deviate from his usual path and turn the corner. His heart clenched as he saw someone else's hands buried in that hair, but was more than relieved when the woman turned around. It wasn't Faith. It was a woman he'd never seen before, comfortably leaned into an unfamiliar man with a mocking smile.
"Sorry," said Spike to the woman, "I thought you were someone else."
She smirked and Spike found himself giving her a weak smile back. "It happens," she said. Her voice brought back memories of blinding pain and cool hands. He was struck near speechless for a moment. The raised eyebrow of the dark haired woman's companion urged him into speech. "You saved my life," Spike said.
Her eyes widened for a moment, and she nodded. "You're looking much better," she said. She paused briefly and held out her hand. "I'm Abigail Whistler, and this wise ass behind me is Hannibal King."
Spike shook her hand. "It's a pleasure Ms. Whistler."
King snorted. "Who might you be?" he asked, clearly not impressed.
Spike had to think for a moment. He wasn't William the Bloody, and he wasn't quite Spike, so he settled for something simpler and held out his hand to King. "William Masters."
King shook it and Spike, suddenly tired, bid them goodbye and headed back to his room.
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