Trying To Walk
Spike looked wearily at the parallel bars in front of him. The anti-depression pills he'd been
taking for the past few weeks were making him sleepy. Meg stood where she always stood,
waiting for him to begin. He hated this part of therapy the mostest.
Trying to walk.
It was a simple conception, really. All he had to do was put one feet in front of the other and
propeller himself forward. He'd seen the diagrams, read the manual, seen the made-for-tv-movie.
Yet, he still couldn't do it. No matter how much he cursed, begged, bribed or threatened his legs,
he couldn't convince them to move.
He hated it.
With a sigh, Spike pulled himself up and settled between the bars on his feet. The only bonus to
the whole ordeal was that he could stand with no problems. Hell, he could win an Olympic
medal for standing.
He heard a familiar voice and his head shot up to the doorway of the exercise room. No, he
thought. He didn't want her to be here. He didn't want her to witness his failure.
Buffy walked into the room, waved and took a seat near the door with Dr. Walters.
"Fuck," he swore softly. He turned to Meg. "I don't want to do this tonight."
"You know the rules, Spike," Meg said. "You have to try to walk at least three times before I'll
let you leave."
He glanced back to Buffy and saw she was involved in a conversation with the doctor. While she
was not looking, he made his first attempt at getting his left leg to move forward.
Spike froze, his legs separated, and he stood there with one in front of the other for the first time
in months. He whipped his head to look at Meg, his eyes wide with shock. "I did it," he
whispered in amazement.
"Try the other leg," Meg encouraged.
He returned his gaze to the blue mat under him. He shifted his weight forward, using the parallel
bars and stood on his left leg. Twisting his hip and pivoting slightly on his foot, he was able to
swing his right leg forward.
Which made two steps.
"Holy fucking hell, I did it!" Spike exclaimed loudly. His eyes sought out Buffy and he saw a
huge smile on her face, as well as tears streaming from her eyes.
"Little Buffy, get over here," he demanded.
She rose and walked over to him, placing herself at the end of the bars. Now that he had taken
the first steps, the rest were just a matter of shifting his weight, using the bars for support. He
was in front of her in less than thirty seconds.
"I did it," he said softly, staring down into her teary eyes.
"Yes, you did," Buffy agreed.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, his tears intermingling with his first real kiss in too
long of a time.
He'd soon learn that he could only convince his left leg to move forward and that he could only
walk with assistance. But at that point in time, none of it mattered.
Because for the first time since the operation, he had hope.
Which meant he had Buffy.