Habek had taken to reading to him, regardless of whether he was awake or asleep. Spike didn't really understand what Habek was saying, but the words were soothing. Occasionally though, Spike would catch a word here and there that he recognized.

It wasn't until Yahjain showed up at his bedside that Spike realized that a week had passed. The loss of time didn't really surprise him, considering that he couldn't even remember seeing a sunrise or sunset for several days.

“Spike! We got here as soon as we could. How do you keep getting yourself into these situations?" Yahjain said, looking over his friend anxiously.

The master weaver was obviously concerned about Spike’s condition, as evinced by his many questions for the healer. He wouldn't leave the dalhari alone until he was sure that Punqa had treated Spike to the best of his abilities. Just as Spike found the strength to speak to Yahjain, Paven barged in with a healer from La’iv.

“This is Artren,” Paven announced to the bedridden Spike. The new healer stepped forward to examine her new patient.

“What are you treating him with?” Artren asked Punqa, who hovered nearby.

“Asvad and pritna,” Punqa replied. Artren shook her head.

“Asvad is fine for now, but the pritna will interfere with the healing process. His body will reject the new form. The asvad will have to be stopped soon, as well. The musculature won’t form right with it present.” Spike’s eyes widened with alarm. He didn’t want to be a cripple.

He intended to follow the rest of the conversation, but found himself disoriented again. Artren leaned over him, staring into his eyes. “The pritna’s not really working anyway. He must have gotten a huge amount of venom near a major artery,” Artren remarked, simultaneously examining the bite. “The changeover is proceeding very quickly—too quickly, in fact. However, at this point there is little we can do but make him comfortable and be sure he is cared for.” Spike slipped into unconsciousness while the healer discussed his condition with Paven and Yahjain.

The disorientation Spike felt only increased the next day. Soon he couldn't tell if time was passing in minutes or hours, days or weeks. Occasionally he noticed when someone propped him up and poured soup or water down his throat. Sometimes, too, he would remember the sensation of having been bathed. Most of the time, however, he was in a daze.

Spike was abruptly pitched into consciousness when the healer discontinued his medications. Pain raced through his body, and he felt like his muscles were on fire. Even when he lay very still, trying to control his breathing to avoid the agony, he nearly cried from the torture. It felt like someone was yanking his body apart, teasing each tendon and ligament into a tangled web. Angelus could have never come up with a torture like this, even in his wildest dreams.

Then the sweating started. Spike distinctly remembered telling someone to put out the fire, but they obviously didn’t listen. He was burning up from the inside, as if he had swallowed hot coals. Sweat ran off his body in rivers, soaking into the bedding. He remembered getting significantly more baths during this time.

Still, Habek read to him each day. He once tried to tell her to go back to the guild because someone had to take care of the work, but she simply replied that this was more important. When he regained a bit of strength that day, he said the same thing to Icki, but the master weaver told him that the guild had been shut down until Spike recovered and they found out who attacked him.

The healer visited him several times a day, changing his bandages and checking the progress of his healing wounds. The salves and ointments she used were pungent, to say the least. Spike, however, didn't notice it for very long because his olfactory senses stopped working. He noticed that at about the same time that he realized that he could no longer see. It was very frightening for him to be helpless like that, and unable to even look at who was taking care of him.

He asked the healer about it, but she was of little help. Artren simply said that as the changeover took place, his body would undergo many changes, and that some of them would affect his senses. When he pressed her about the issue, she admitted that many humans suffered a temporary loss of senses such as sight and smell, but that they returned as changeover progressed. He was going to ask for more information the next time he was awake, but when he next woke he found he could not speak or hear. He had not gained back his other senses either, so he lay helpless on the bed.

The utter isolation brought on by the loss of his senses gave Spike considerable time to think about things. He hadn't really gotten a chance to tell Paven or the others about Gaihi or the details of the attack. He trusted Icki enough to be sure that the weaver wouldn’t let anyone outside his house near Spike while he was incapacitated. That was little consolation to Spike however, when he was left alone in his own mind.

At least during this changeover, Spike had someone to take care of him—people that knew about him enough to be concerned for his welfare. When he had been turned into a vampire, Angelus had simply dropped him and expected him to get up again.

When the pain began to completely overwhelm him, Spike turned to some of the meditations he had learned during his studies in La’iv. They help to focus on other things—for him mostly thoughts of nature and how the dalhari related to it. He decided to spend his time alone in his head remembering all he could about his adopted family, since if he recovered he was going to be one of them for a very long time. It certainly didn't hurt his efforts that he spent so much time studying in La’iv.

However, Spike could not completely vanquish the fear that he would not recover from these injuries and that he would lose the most precious thing he ever received, a second chance at life and happiness.

•••

When Spike next noticed anything outside of his own mind and body, he found that his room was empty of all visitors. Perhaps they had noticed that he could no longer sense their presence in any way. He certainly wouldn’t have stuck around in a room with a comatose person. He stared at the ceiling, simply enjoying being able to see, tracing the designs of the carvings inscribed there. He was rather surprised that he was still awake when someone re-entered room.

His visitor turned out to be the healer. The dalhari checked him thoroughly to be sure that he was still all right. It wasn't until she reached his head that she noticed he could see her.

"Spike? Can you hear me?" The healer asked.

Spike nodded gingerly. The pain had subsided considerably, but he did not want to risk feeling such torment again. The healer seemed pleased by the news that he could hear and see her, and continued her examination of his injuries with more enthusiasm.

After she finished, she left only to return a short time later with some food and Paven. The dyemaster actually grinned when she saw that Spike was awake. He smiled back weekly as he was propped up for his meal.

"It's good to see you awake again, Spike. We were worried that you might never wake up," Paven said, taking a seat by the bed.

Spike looked over at her as the healer spooned some broth into his mouth. She looked concerned, her brow wrinkled and her mouth pursed. He idly wondered how long he had been like that—unable to communicate.

"I wasn't asleep, I was insensate," Spike said, swallowing his soup.

Paven’s face showed surprise. "You mean, you were awake all that time? We haven't been able to get a response out of you for more than three weeks, Spike. We were starting to worry that the changeover was going to kill you."

Spike considered what Paven had said while he finished his meal. Three weeks? Although he realized that he had no concept of the passing of time when he had no sensory information, he had had no idea that that much time and passed. To be honest, it worried him as well. He had not been able to ask the healer if he might be able to survive changeover but end up severely crippled as a result.

"How do you feel, Spike?" The healer asked. "Have you regained all of your senses?"

"I think so, to some extent," Spike replied, considering his condition.

The healer nodded as though that was what she was expecting him to say. "We'll have time later to determine what condition the rest of your body is in."

"Is the changeover going ok?" Spike asked.

The healer nodded absently, her attention more focused on looking at Spike’s legs. That was the part of Spike’s body that had taken the worst beating, and it was the part most likely to not heal correctly. The sharp shooting pains Spike felt when the healer prodded his sore leg told them that he had in fact regained feeling in them.

"Try to get some rest, Spike. We'll be back later tomorrow." The healer and Paven left Spike so he could rest. The exhaustion that had become normal for Spike quickly set back again and he fell asleep soon thereafter.

•••

Once it was determined that Spike was healing correctly and the changeover was proceeding fairly normally considering his condition, the healer prescribed a treatment of physical therapy. It was important that Spike not let his muscles atrophy; otherwise, he would have a difficult time as changeover progressed. One of the benefits of changeover was that as his body accepted the changes, his healing abilities increased. The healer assured him that if it continued as it had been, his bones would be set in another couple of weeks. This pleased Spike greatly, primarily because he wanted to leave Brahgcka and go back to La’iv.

Icki and Habek resumed their daily visitations, enjoying Spike’s newfound ability to communicate. Yahjain, too, stopped by to see him fairly regularly, particularly after Spike told him that he had information about his attacker. The master weaver grew enraged when he found out who had attacked him, and why it had occurred. Yahjain promised to speak to the elders when they got back to La’iv about this apparent oversight. The weaver himself was not familiar with many of the details of Del and Gaihi’s relationship, or the events surrounding it. Apparently, the Disiaron elders had failed to mention that Gaihi might be near Spike or that the weavers' guild should consider Spike’s relationship with Del in choosing a location for him to work.

Despite the fact that he was bedridden, Spike found that time passed quickly. Of course, he was still sleeping most of the day, but the many conversations—although often one-sided—that he had with his visitors took up a great deal of his time and kept him from thinking about his healing injuries.

Being unable to talk to anyone, or sense his environment, had caused Spike a great deal of distress. However, he had relished being able to spend the time coming to terms with his new identity. Once the shock of being changed wore off, Spike accepted it fairly quickly. After all, he had only spent a total of about 30 years being human, with well over a hundred years in between that time being a vampire. Therefore, he really had far more experience being something besides human, and figured that being a dalhari couldn't possibly be any worse than being a vampire. At least he didn’t have to kill anyone to stay alive, or stay inside or underground for the majority of the day.

Spike couldn't help but celebrate when Artren told them that he would be returning with the others to La’iv in less than a week. She had just managed to get him to the point where he could hobble across room from his bed to a chair next to the fireplace. Spike was sure that under any other circumstances, he would’ve been required to undergo much more therapy, but the healer’s decision had been rushed due to the nature of how he was changed.

•••

Spike collapsed on the bed, exhausted. The trip to La’iv had been grueling, at best. For a week, Spike had sat perched on Angel while the rest of the guild members watched the road and made sure that he did not fall off. More than once, Spike wished that his wings would finish growing in so he could just fly home. Unfortunately, wing growth did not occur overnight. At the rate they were growing, Spike’s swings would take another month or two to reach their full size, and his tail was just beginning to appear. He also noticed that his skin was becoming very blotchy. Apparently, he was not going to be a flesh colored dalhari. Just what color he would be, however, was unclear. Artren had said that it sometimes took quite a while for hair, skin, and eye color to stabilize. Spike just hoped that he wouldn’t turn out to be as garish as Icki.

It became obvious that someone had forewarned the house that Spike was in no condition to accept visitors, because he didn't see Vaishi or Fain for almost a week after the return. When they did come and visit, however, the reunion was heartening.

"Spike! I heard about what happened. You’re very, very lucky to still be alive. I cannot believe that someone would do this to you!" Fain said, studying his friend closely.

Spike simply nodded his agreement and kept his mouth shut. He and the elders had discussed what to do about Gaihi, and it had been determined that it was best for now to not mention it to anyone. Gaihi had disappeared immediately after the assault, and until the Aiskian house could locate him, there was no point in causing alarm. Spike agreed with the elders, since Gaihi really wasn't much of a threat to anyone but Del and him. As long as Del was safe, and Spike was sure she was, he was ok with the plan.

"Do you need to talk to anyone about this, Spike?" Vaishi asked. "This is quite a change for you, even if you were another species in your world."

"I've had quite a bit of time to think about it, so I think I've come to terms with it fairly well. Yeah, it's a change, but honestly, I think it's one for the better. At least I won’t be getting any older!" Spike laughed with his friends happy to have been able to put their minds at ease even a little bit.

The three friends continued talking late into the night, until Spike cried exhaustion and kicked them out of his quarters. Indeed, Spike was tired, but mostly he wanted a little time alone. What he’d said to his friends was nothing less than the truth, but no one who had undergone such a drastic change could be expected to simply be happy with it in such a short span of time. Yes, he accepted it, and could even see many advantages to his new state, but he still mourned the loss of his humanity.

•••

"No, you have to keep your wings pulled tightly in until you’re well off the ground. Once you're in the air, snap them open sharply, and be sure to angle them or you'll just fall right back down again," Fain said, watching Spike.

Once Spike had completed his physical therapy and had been deemed healthy by the house’s healers, Fain and Vaishi had taken over his training, teaching Spike how to fly. Of course, they also had to spend some time teaching him about his new strengths, and weaknesses, because it had been long enough since Spike had been a vampire that he was used to the normal human strength and not the greater dalhari abilities.

Despite the fact that learning to fly was very frustrating, Spike was having fun. Many of his fears about becoming dalhari had been alleviated as his changeover finished. Now all that was left was for Spike to acclimate to his new species. Idly, he wondered if there were any more changes he could possibly go through. He was hoping never to find out.

Aside from the fact that Spike was now dalhari, which few people had been expecting, the greatest shock had been his coloring. While Spike would certainly not consider it in any way human, it was equally uncommon for dalhari. His skin had paled to a true ivory color, somewhat more warmly colored than his vampiric skin and considerably more opaque. He blushed a slightly darker cream, instead of the pink that most humans turned. Pale skin in that particular shade was very rare among the species. His hair had likewise paled, to a shade nearer to what he had bleached it to in his world. It, too, had taken on creamy, opaque tones. The irises of his eyes had remained the same, a very pale blue, although the whites of his eyes were now a sparkling gold. His teeth and nails had also had the same striking metallic color. He thought he looked rather like a marble statue.

The guild accepted him back readily, and all those at the guild hall seemed genuinely happy to see that he was well. The house had done a very good job of keeping the circumstances surrounding his change low-key, and he managed to fend off the curious by explaining that it was an intensely personal matter that he did not wish to speak of. That seemed to satisfy pretty much everyone.

Spike’s relationship with the elders, particularly Gaha, had been strained when he first returned to the freehold. They expressed extreme contrition that they had forgotten Gaihi and had not thought of the possible complications of sending Spike to Brahgcka. Eventually, he forgave them, understanding that it had been a century since the incident that sent Gaihi away and that there was really no way for any one to anticipate such an event.