Press Gang fanfic.. cause I'm reliving my youth! Also I may be slightly addicted ;)

The distant sound of a phone ringing caused Spike to snap awake and he shot up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he checked the time.

1:04am

It was far too early for a social call -even from Lynda- and he threw back the covers ignoring the panic churning in his stomach as he lept from the bed.

There was no reason to get up, unless it was an emergency... and he took the stairs two at a time until he was close enough to jump the landing. Without thinking he ripped the receiver from the cradle, breathing heavily as he answered the phone, "hello?"

"Spike."

He recognized his girlfriend's voice on the other end of the line but her tone was unfamiliar, something he wasn't accustomed to. She sounded unsure of herself, vulnerable even... and his grip tightened around the handle, "Lynda... what's wrong, are you okay?"

He was met with silence until an a faint apology broke through the static. He had no idea why she was saying sorry but if she was willing to admit something was her fault, it had to be bad. "What happened," he pressed again, "where are you?"

There was another drawn out pause until her answer filled the awkward silence.

"Outside."

He glanced up at the front door and the phone dropped from his hand, dangling limply as he realized she'd probably been standing out there this whole time.

Without thinking he crossed the short distance and in one swift movement he slid the deadlock across and braced himself, stealing a deep breath as he opened the door.

"Lynda..." the air caught in his throat as he took in her rough appearance.

There was a gash above her temple, a purple graze forming down the side of her cheek and her stockings had holes torn throughout the delicate mesh. She looked like she'd been in a fight and his gaze rested on her raw knuckles, taking in the the death grip she had on her purse. Honestly it scared him and he braced against the door trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I'm okay-" she said suddenly, afraid to look weak in front him. It wasn't something she was used to and she found herself torn between seeking comfort and dealing with the horrific events that had played out. She shouldn't be here, not really.. but she couldn't bring herself to go home and face her mother.

Not after everything that had happened.

"Can I come in?"

He swallowed his shock and moved aside to let her past, "yeah... but you know, you don't look very okay."

She ignored the comment and he closed the door behind them before instinctively taking a step and reaching out to grasp her arm. She stopped and he couldn't hide his confusions, the emotion mixing with concern as he held her gently.

"Lynda what hapned?"

"I should have called a cab..." she joked, though there was little humor to the comment as she revealed the truth, "I was walking home, a couple of derelicts decided they might like my purse. Honestly though, I'm fine now. "

"Wait," he shook his head as the information sank in, "you're saying you were mugged?"

"No-" she lifted her purse to demonstrate, "attempted yes... but i think I may have broken his nose. Impressed?"

He glanced at the object in question, his concern mixing with a rush off anger. She'd just been attacked and she was treating it like some sort of battle of wills but they weren't in the office now and he wasn't going to stand for it.

"Did you at least call the police?"

"No-" she repeated the word calmly, "whats the point, they didn't steal anything."

He raised his hands in frustration and ran them through his hair fighting the urge to engage her. He was fully aware she liked to be obstinate but this was different, shed been physically hurt and he wasn't going to stand by and let her play it down.

"Lynda, you were assaulted"

"And like I said, I'm fine now... "

As soon as the words left her mouth she felt lightheaded, no doubt Murphy trying to make a point, and she was -almost- grateful when he caught her, pulling her against his chest. She would have been completely grateful, if not for the disapproving look on his face.

"You were saying?"

"It's nothing-" she countered, "probably just shock or something"

"Or something, most likely a concussion.. look at you. you're shaking-" he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, unable to disguise the concern in his voice, "that's it, I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Spike-" she tugged his sleeve, verging on admitting the truth; that she couldn't bare to be around anyone but him... but the words lodged in her throat and she swallowed them roughly, "I'll go... tomorrow and to the police. I promise."

His only response was a sigh.

She was hard to read at the best of times but he'd caught the beat of hesitation, the pause that suggested there was more she wanted to say and instead of pushing he pulled her gently into his arms. "I love you."

Her only response was a soft sob and he squeezed her tighter knowing if he let go the emotion would disappear, replaced by her stubborn resolve. To anyone else it might seem cold or detached but the fact she'd come to him first, that she was here and buried on his arms, spoke louder than words.

Whatever they had it was special and he wasn't letting go.

Not for anything.