Title: 'Til it's gone
Author: AnitaB
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just want them to have a better chance at real happiness than Daddy creator will give them. Not for profit. No infringement intended.
Pairing: Buffy/Spike.
Spoilers: Set between Glory's beating of Spike and Glory's mind-sucking of Tara. (i.e.. Tara's not insane and this is soo pre-angry sex between Buffy and Spike. Pre-initiative chip as well).
Summary: You don't know what've you got 'til it's gone.
Thoughts and Flashbacks in / /
'Til it's gone
By AnitaB
Chapter 1: The bloody crisis
"Little Bit," Spike tapped lightly at Dawn's window, squatting on the slanted roof as a steady stream of blood rolled down the shingles. "Little bit, open the window."
On the other side of the glass, Dawn's eyes opened sleepily and she threw off the quilt.
"Spike? Is that you?" Dawn walked to the window, covered neck to heels in flannel pj's.
"Yeah, it's me. Open the window." Spike shifted closer to the glass, he'd missed the girl. Buffy and the scooby gang hadn't let him come around much lately and certainly not as much as he'd like to.
"What are you doing here?" Opening the window, she turned around and glanced behind her at the bedroom door. "You'd better go. I don't know how she'll take you coming here, Spike."
"She won't have to stake me if she finds me here, little bit, she'll just hafta watch." He raised a hand, showing her the red seeping trails down his arm. "Someone's put a bleeding spell on me. I need your help."
"How? I don't know enough magic to do anything." Dawn climbed out onto the sill to get a better look at his arm. A small shallow cut marked the skin just below his elbow. A more than human amount of blood dripped from the wound. And vampires usually bled much less than a normal human. "How dangerous is it?" She looked up at him and Spike was touched by the amount of concern in her eyes. At least one of the Summers girls didn't hate him on sight. Maybe the other would come around eventually. It was a big, dark, hazy maybe, but it was better than nothing.
"I don't know, little bit, that's why I'm here. Who else but you and the Slayer's scoobies can figure out and fix this bloody nuisance."
"I'll go get her." She turned to step back into the room, beginning to call her sister. "Buf--"
"No," The hand on her arm left bloody fingerprints on her sleeve. "Don't tell her yet. She might just finish me off and make her life a whole lot easier."
"Buffy wouldn't kill you, not after what you did for me... for us." Dawn motioned to where the bruises had faded from around his eyes, a big part of her still felt guilty that he'd suffered for her and there was a 'thank you' in her face as well as an eagerness to help him however she could.
"Still, I don't quite trust my hide to her gratitude just yet. Talk to the witches, talk to Xander and Giles. They'll be a mite less inclined to give whoever did this to me a medal of honor. I'll come back tomorrow and see what came of it."
"Will you be all right until then?" She glanced worriedly at the red liquid streaming wetly down his arm.
"I'll be fine, little bit, I've got a whole gallon of blood in the fridge at home. I won't run dry by dark."
"Okay, I'll see Tara and Willow at the magic shop after school, they might be able to help. Do you know who did it? How long has the spell been active? Does it do anything else but prevent clotting?"
Spike couldn't help a smile at just how much like Willow and Buffy Dawn could be. The strong Summers bloodline was both a blessing and a curse. Such strong and capable women but so stubborn. Spike had no doubt whatsoever that Buffy did indeed feel something for him but she would never admit it. That bloody girl might even be lying to herself, such a stubborn, willful
chit. Unfortunately for him it didn't change how he loved her one bit. Spike still wanted her, badly.
"I don't know who did it, little bit, but I started bleeding like this the day afore yesterday." He laughed with a bitter note. "At least it was after Glory finished with me, I mighta bled to death."
Sitting down at his side, Dawn leaned against him a little, looking up with curiosity and concern written on her face. "Can you do that? I mean, can vampires bleed to death?"
Spike felt her hair against his shoulder and began to understand something he'd seen Buffy do dozens of times -- touch Dawn's hair. There was something very reassuring, very comforting about the feel of her hair on his skin. The heavy, silken warmth flowing down his arm was a silent sign of her life. She was safe, and home. The remembered pain of the severe beating he'd gotten faded a little. It was worth any amount of pain to protect the Summers girls. Anything Glory would have done to Dawn would have hurt Buffy three times as much. Any pain was worth preventing that. Brushing his hand over Dawn's hair he braced it on the roof behind her. "Normally no, little bit, we vampires don' bleed to death, but with a spell, with magic involved, who knows?"
Dawn wrapped her arms around her knees, leaning a little closer against his side. "I still think you should come inside and talk to Buffy, this is serious."
Spike draped an arm loosely over her shoulders, trailing his fingertips through her hair. "Relax, little bit, I'm a big, bad vampire. I won't give up without a fight. Besides, your sis has magicked me out of the house. I couldn't go in if I wanted to."
"She's pretty mad at you, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she's mighty peeved."
"That Buffy robot wasn't a good idea."
"Seemed like a bloody good idea at the time."
"Why did it seem to be" Dawn's voice took on a really bad impression of Spike's accent. "a bloody good idea?" She looked at him like he was insane, an idea that hadn't escaped him. Of course, some of the women in his life might have something to do with his slipping sanity. Ordering that robot hadn't been the height of sane practicality. "You knew it wasn't really her and she was going to find out eventually. You had to know that."
"I did, little bit, but you don't understand." Spike let out a sigh. He'd never treated Dawn like a child and he wouldn't start now. "I wanted to be with Buffy, would've done anything to be with her. But she wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. Buffy wouldn't believe that I lo-- cared about her and she refused to admit to even the tiniest bit of emotion for me. And then that robot threw me through a window and she laughed. I knew I should forget her and find somebody else but there was no one else like her. So I ... I had a woman like her made for me."
"So it wasn't about sex?" The point-blank question would have shocked him from anyone else. But Dawn had never pulled punches with him and he had to return the favor.
"I won't lie to you, girl, we didn' spend our time playin' checkers."
"So it was sex?" She moved away from his arm just a little, almost a flinching movement.
"No, little bit," Spike touched her chin, making her look at him. "It wasn't just sex, Dawn. The robot, that Buffy saw me. She cared about me and didn't deny it. She let me hold her. She wanted me to hold her. I could talk to her and she talked to me. It was more than sex to me."
"Good," Dawn rested her head on his shoulder for a minute before getting up. "I have school in the morning, so I'll talk to the gang and get back to you tomorrow."
Helping her back into the window, Spike nodded. "I'll be here. Good night, little bit."
"Good night, Spike." Dawn closed the window and deliberately locked it, looking at Spike through the glass.
He smiled, "Smart girl," Saluting her through the glass, Spike walked around the corner of the roof to Buffy's window.
Crouching at her window sill, he gazed through the glass at her. Wrapped in blankets, Buffy slept with a pillow clutched in her arms and a frown on her lips. She looked like she needed to be held. "Buffy," he whispered, wishing he could go in there and hold her. Laying one palm against the glass, Spike could feel the spell blocking him outside the window. He couldn't go to her, he couldn't move into the room to hear her breathing. He couldn't sit on her bed and kiss the frown from her lips. She wouldn't let him. Dropping his hand, Spike climbed off the roof and began walking home to his crypt.
Behind him, Buffy moved in her sleep, squeezing the pillow in her arms and softly whispering a name. His name, "Spike,"
***
Dawn wandered along a bookshelf in the magic shop, randomly tracing the titles with a fingertip. "Willow, are there spells that would kill a vampire?"
Willow, bent over one of several books spread out over the table, looked up suspiciously. "Why would you want one, Dawni?"
"I don't want one. I want to reverse one."
Giles set down a book and leaned on the counter near the cash register. "Dawn, explain."
"Well, Spike came to my window last night and--"
"Does Buffy know?" Giles took off his glasses and moved to join Willow at the table.
"No, of course not. He came to me for help, like I'm gonna turn him over to her bad mood." Dawn sat down and folded her arms on the table. "You guys know what he did for me. He needs our help now, it's important, please."
Exchanging a glance between them, a decision was reached."Okay, Dawn, we'll see if we can help. What's wrong with Spike?"
The smile on Dawn's face was joyful and quick. Spike had been right, his good deed was the equivalent of a get out of jail free card. "He's under a bleeding spell."
"A bleeding spell?"
"Yeah, he had a small cut on his arm that was just streaming blood. Spike said it started two days ago. He didn't know who did it."
Anya walked out of the stock room in time to hear some of the explanation. "Sounds like a vengeance demon."
"What?" Dawn turned sharply to see the ex-demon.
"Well, think about it. Spike has spent a couple hundred years bleeding people and now he's mysteriously bleeding. Sounds like someone Spike has hurt--dead loved one or something--has called a vengeance demon."
"Well," Willow shrugged, "That might narrow down the kind of spell used, but how many people would want to hurt Spike?"
"That could be a very long list." Giles thoughtfully stroked his chin.
"You don't think it could be..." Dawn asked worriedly. The unfinished question was instantly understood by those present.
"No," Willow said automatically
"Of course not, Dawn. If Buffy wanted Spike dead, she'd do it herself." Giles' voice didn't hold as much certainty as Dawn would've liked but it reassured her none the less.
"Of course it isn't Buffy."
***
/My life would be so much easier if I just staked the soulless bastard./ Buffy stared down at a flat circle of dried blood and a cigarette butt on the sill outside Dawn's window. She'd already had Spike added to the warding on the house. He couldn't cross any entrance of the house, but that didn't stop him from sitting outside.
Buffy knew he spent a great deal of time standing in the front yard looking up at the windows from the amount of cigarette butts she'd found in the grass. But this was the first time she knew of that he'd come so close /and he was bleeding/ She shook the thought out of her head. She didn't care what happened to him, Buffy told herself. She'd be happy to
never see his pale face again.
/His pale face was so covered in blood and bruises she was surprised he could see past the swelling.
"Spike, you're covered in sexy wounds." Hearing her own voice in the Buffy-bot impression, she tried to deny what those sexy wounds meant to her. He'd suffered for her. He'd been tortured for her. He'd been willing to die for her.
"Yeah, I feel real sexy." He was hurt so badly he could barely sit up.
A few meaningless exchanges later, Buffy got to the important question.
"Why did you let that Glory hurt you?"
"She wanted to know who the key was."
"Well, I can tell her and--"
"NO!" the force of his exclamation brought on a coughing fit and Buffy was touched by the emotion and insistence in his voice. "You can't tell her. Glory /never / finds out." He was still hunched around his ribs, pain written in every line of his face.
"Why?" It was hard to stay Buffy-botish when the answer meant so much to her.
"Buffy, the other, not-so-pleasant Buffy. Anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her in that much pain." The conviction and ...love?...she heard in his voice sent a rush of warmth through her, touching her heart against her will. "I'd let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did." *Oh, Spike* Buffy leaned forward and touched her lips to his softly. She
didn't want to hurt him. The gentle contact sent another flood of warmth through her. One she told herself was unwelcome and unwanted. Buffy told herself the touch of his lips on hers meant nothing, that she felt nothing. She denied it.
Suddenly he pulled back, the look on his face saying he knew. He knew it was really her and not his robot. He knew it was her. /
Buffy pushed the memory out of her mind, at least she tried to. That kiss...the shiver tracing her spine. She tried to believe the shiver was disgust, revulsion. She tried to play the recurring dreams she had of him like nightmares. That his touch was unwelcome and unwanted. That his name on her lips was a protest not a request. That his voice whispering words of love in her ear as he held her close was a lie. That no part of her wanted to hear those words from him, wanted to feel his touch. That she didn't want him. She couldn't want him. She tried to believe it.
Closing Dawn's window, Buffy walked down the stairs to the kitchen. She had chores to do.
***
Spike stretched out on a stone slab in his crypt, his still bleeding arm hanging limply over a bucket on the floor. Half asleep, he was thinking about her. Buffy, the real Buffy --not his robot. He'd fought against loving her, but he couldn't help himself. He'd never been able to control his reaction to her. Even when he'd still been her enemy, when he'd been trying to kill her, he'd been falling. Fight after fight, Spike couldn't bring himself to strike the last blow, he couldn't kill her no matter how much he thought he wanted her death.
Every woman in his life --Druzilla, Harmony, all of them-- were unconsciously measured against Buffy; they always failed miserably in comparison.
/Bloody hell, I'd rather fight with her than shag anyone else./ Though if he were completely honest with himself, he'd rather touch Buffy than breathe. And the second she gave any sign of welcoming his touch, Spike might not be able to control himself. She would never know that the one small kiss she'd given him after Glory's beating had done more to him
than anything and everything he'd done with the robot.
Leaning back against the stone, Spike closed his eyes and licked his lips. He could still taste her. He had known it was her, would have recognized her touch and taste if he'd been blind-folded.
"Buffy,"
He couldn't stop loving her, even after she had rejected him completely.
/"Just, give me something, a crumb, the barest smidgen. Tell me... maybe, someday, there's a chance." He moved closer, close enough to feel the heat of her body mere inches from his own. His eyes searched her face desperately, finding the slightest reason for hope in her expression. His hands itched to touch her, his lips ached to feel hers.
"The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious." Her words refused to sink in immediately, but when they did it felt like a dozen razor sharp stakes being driven one by one into his heart. *Bloody Hell*
Rage and pain mixed in his throat and forced their way from his lips in the from of an inarticulate shout. Her rejections up to this point had hurt----
"You can't tell me that there isn't anything there between you and me. I know you feel something."
"It's called revulsion. And whatever you think you're feeling- it's not love. You can't love without a soul." ----
But this one, this denial of any future chance felt like she had pushed one of her beautiful hands through his ribs to tear his heart clean out of his chest.
"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you bloody women? What the hell does it take? Why do you bitches torture me?"
"Which question do you want me to answer first?" The flippant tone of Buffy's voice didn't ease the pain afflicting him. Her continued refusal to show any of the emotion he was absolutely certain she felt filled him with more than a little desperation. If she left him tonight before he could get anything from her, before she admitted to any feelings for him, he might
never get another chance. That desperation carried through the brief fight with Harm. It wasn't lessened a whit by the feel of Buffy's fist slamming into his jaw, or by the sight of her walking away.
"It may not be pretty but it's real. I'm a part of your life and you can't shut me out." He heard his own words stop mid-heartbeat as he slammed into the invisible wall blocking her front door. *Bloody hell, no* A weak smile crossed his lips as he tried not to believe that she could really shut him out of her life. He tried to beg her with his eyes. *Please, Buffy, don't* The door slowly closed in front of him, the click of the lock felt like a death blow.//
"Buffy," Laying back limply against the stone, Spike wondered if bleeding to death might hurt less than Buffy's continued cruelty and rejection.
***
Dawn huddled in her pajamas on the swing on the darkened front porch, waiting for a vampire. Anyone else, well almost anyone else, in her situation would be shaking in fear. Dawn, however, was just a little cold and not afraid at all. After all, she was waiting for Spike, a vampire who couldn't hurt humans and happened to be madly in love with her sister. What did she have to be afraid of.
Dawn didn't have any doubts that Spike really did love Buffy. She'd heard the word he'd almost said, /Buffy wouldn't believe that I lo--cared about her.../ Everything Spike had done recently seemed to Dawn to be an obvious declaration of love. He had been there for Buffy, for Dawn, when they'd needed him. Dawn knew he'd helped her so much after her mom's death
as much for Buffy as for her. He'd helped her break into the magic shop so she wouldn't go alone, to keep her safe. He'd helped her with the resurrection spell, risking everything to protect her from the Gora demon and get the last ingredient for the potion. Dawn felt safe with Spike, she knew what he'd gone through to protect her from Glory.
Part of her wondered what it would take for Buffy to realize just how much Spike had changed.
"Hey, little bit," he sat down next to her on the swing. "You look cold," Slipping his leather trench off his shoulders, Spike wrapped it around her, tucking the ends over her bare feet. If only Buffy saw him like this --sweet, caring, and not evil at all. But then she'd throw a fit if Spike tried to be like this with her. "So, what did the gang have for us?"
Tucking her chin against the leather collar, Dawn leaned into the curve of his arm behind her. "Anya thinks it's a vengeance demon."
"A vengeance demon? But I've been fixed. What have I done to anyone recently?"
Dawn looked up at him, her face telling him not to be stupid. "Who said it has to be recent? Maybe it's someone you hurt before you went chips ahoy."
"Chips ahoy?" The tone of his voice and the look on his face both screamed offended male pride.
"Yeah," Dawn kept her smile to a minimum and tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. "That's what Buffy calls it."
"Ugh," Spike slumped into the swing, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning his head back. "Chips ahoy, more humiliation at that girl's hands. I don' know why I put up wit' her."
"Yes you do, Spike. You're in love with her. You'd let her do anything to you and still come back." Dawn's voice and body language expressed no doubt whatsoever.
He didn't shift one single muscle from his position of false relaxation as he spoke. "Why do you say that, little bit?"
"Spike, I'm not stupid or blind. Don't treat me like I am."
Spike smiled against his will at Buffy's no-nonsense tone in Dawn's voice. "You remind me so much of your sister sometimes." Stroking his fingers through her hair, Spike turned his mind back to the business at hand. Anything but Buffy. "So what did they suggest I do about this vengeance demon?"
"Well, Willow thinks if you come to the shop she might be able to reverse the spell."
"An' if she can'?"
"Well, then we'd have to deal with the demon. Kill it and the spell should end, too."
"Demon killing, you know what that means."
"Yup, we need Buffy's help."
Spike turned on the swing to face her, deeply insulted and not hiding it at all. "Hey, little bit, who was it fought the Gora demon to get you an egg. Who stood up to a god for you. I am a vampire. A big, bad, evil vampire and I don' need her help."
"You don't need whose help?" Buffy leaned against the door frame with a disapproving frown on her face. "What are you doing here, Spike?"
Dawn watched with fascination as Spike wrapped himself in ego and indifference. He draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her close against his side. "Well, Slayer, I'm just sittin' here talking to my friend." His voice was the perfect act but Dawn could feel the faintest tremble of his hand against her arm. /Poor Spike, you're so far gone./ "Is that a problem?"
Buffy's eyes skipped over him entirely and focused on Dawn. /Ouch, poor Spike./ His arm tightened around her reflexively.
"Dawn, go inside."
"But, Buffy..."
"No, 'but Buffy's. Inside the house, now." Buffy moved to gesture Dawn into the front door. "And go to bed, you have school tomorrow."
"Fine, whatever, sis." Dawn stood abruptly, throwing a smile to Spike before heading inside. She stopped in front of Buffy with a purposefully blank expression on her face. "Don't hurt him."
Spike smiled at her retreating back. Somehow her protectiveness of him gave him hope. /If one Summers daughter can really see me, maybe the other can too./ His eyes turned to Buffy, then fell away from the look in her own. /Eventually./ He brought his gaze back up, watching her intensely as he waited for her words. He wouldn't break this awkward silence first. /God, she's so beautiful./ It was a gift he hadn't expected to get, to be able to look at her, to watch her move. It had been so long since he'd been this close to her.
And move she did, pacing the short distance from the door to the stairs. Then nervously turning to face him without looking at him, she finally spoke. "What do you think you're doing here, Spike? I told you--"
"You've told me plenty, Buffy. You told me I don' love you, I can' love you. You told me you don' feel anything for me, you'll never feel anything for me. You told me to stay away from you, from the niblet, your friends-- everyone who means a single bloody thing to be in this bleeding little town." He stood, moving towards her with every muscle tense and his eyes locked on her face. "Then you told me I did somethin' real for her, for you and you'd remember it." Spike stepped even closer, carefully watching her for sudden movements. At any moment, Buffy might attack him to stop his words. Or worse, go inside where he couldn't see her, couldn't talk to her, couldn't smell her perfume. Couldn't hope to touch her. Shifting his body between hers and the door, he backed her up against a column, deliberately staying out of arm's reach. "And now after everythin' I did, how much I changed, I see you even less. At least the niblet likes me and doesn't deny it. She knows she's safe with me. So what more are you gonna tell me now?" His body ached to close the distance to hers but her eyes stopped him. They were caught between confusion and rejection. Spike though he might see the faintest hint of desire, of affection in her eyes, her face. He stopped, feeling foolish for the outburst, but still waiting for her reaction.
"Why are you here, Spike? What do you want?" Her voice shook slightly and her hands clutched the blanket closer around her body. But he couldn't read in her face if it was to protect herself from the cold or from something else. Maybe him, maybe herself.
"You know what I want." His voice was soft, on the edge of pleading. His face matched--the same soft curve on his lips as had been there when she shut the door in his face. When she'd spelled him out of the house. Spike didn't take another step closer but his body language said he wanted to. The eye contact got too hard and he dropped his gaze. "But that isn't why I'm here tonight. I got a problem, so I had the niblet ask the others to help me." He laughed a touch bitterly and held out the arm that was still trickling blood. "Who else but your crew could possibly fix this?"
Watching the small but steady trickle of blood flow down his arm, Buffy tried to feel nothing. She wasn't at all troubled by the fact that Spike was bleeding. "You have been there for Dawn, Spike, so I owe you." Stepping closer, she touched his arm, wiping away the blood to see the wound and shivering slightly at the feel of his skin under her fingers. "How long have you been bleeding?" Looking up to meet his eyes, Buffy realized just how close she was to him. His body was only inches from her own. Only inches, such a short distance to cross, then she could feel him against her. His lips hovered above her own, so close she could feel his breath on her skin. She'd felt those lips against hers once. She'd only intended it to be a thank you kiss for all he'd done for Dawn, but it had been more. Buffy couldn't forget how it had felt. And a part of herself she tried to ignore wanted to feel it again, wanted to feel more.
"Buffy?" Spike lifted his hand to touch his fingertips to her cheek.
Oh, no. He could see it in her eyes and there was nothing she could do to get the need off her face. Part of her wasn't even willing to try as her body lifted itself on her toes, instinctively trying to get closer to his lips. A shiver traced her spine as his hands cradled her face and his lips
murmured her name. Her eyes fell shut as his lips pressed against her own. Her arms curled involuntarily around his neck as his arms pulled her tighter against his body. It felt so good. He felt so good holding her, kissing her. The hungry movement of his mouth against hers clenched muscles all over her body. "Spike."
"Buffy, I love you." Burying his face in her hair, he held her very close, pressing her hard against his body, starving for the feel of her.
"Spike, I ... I can't." She pulled out of his arms and retreated across the porch, shivering but not from the cold. /I can't. I can't feel this for him, I can't./
"Buffy, please," Spike followed, standing in front of her with his hands held out to her pleadingly. "Please, don' "
"Tomorrow afternoon, we'll come by your crypt and try to deal with that," She motioned weakly at his bleeding arm without looking at him.
"Buffy,"
"No, Spike. Tomorrow at your crypt we'll work on the whole bleeding thing. Now, just go."
Studying the expression on her averted face, Spike nodded. Picking his leather trench up off the swing, he turned to face her again. "Tell the niblet I said goodnight...and thank you."
Her eyes down and her hands clenched in the blanket, Buffy nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes even though she could feel his gaze on her. She didn't hear him leave but she felt it, a continually growing smaller part of her brain saying she wanted him to leave. The rest of her wasn't so sure, remembering the feeling of safety and rightness she'd found in his arms. Glancing over her shoulder, Buffy watched Spike walk away. Pressing her fingertips to her mouth, she whispered quietly. "Spike,"
***
"Buffy," He threw his coat over a stone and sat down in the chair in the middle of the room. He'd finally gotten to touch her and it had been amazing. Spike could still feel her in his arms, her eager response to his kiss, her arms around him. Closing his eyes, Spike remembered the look in her face when she'd touched his arm, the heat in her eyes as she'd leaned up for his
kiss, the tender confusion written all over her when she'd pulled away. And even though she had pulled away, Spike took hope from it. She'd touched him at last and he could only look forward from there. "Buffy, love."
"Buffy?" A high-pitched, whiny voice spoke from the shadows of the crypt. "Are you still forgetting me, Spike? I'm the actual girlfriend, you're supposed to be thinking about me!"
"Harm?" Spike sat up with an expression of pure irritation on his face. "First, Harm, you are not the actual girlfriend. You left me. Second, I wasn't thinking about you when you were still here. So haul your annoying little ass out of my crypt and leave me alone."
"I don't think so, Spiky. You've been a bad dog and it's time you got punished." Stepping out of the shadows with a familiar-looking crossbow in her hands, Harmony smiled, seeming both blank and angry. "So hold still, I don't wanna miss."
"Harm, be sensible. You don't want to hurt me." Holding his hands out to calm her down, Spike stood up and walked towards her. "Put down the bow and we'll talk about all of th--"
His voice cut off as the breath was forced out of his lungs by a blow to the stomach. Glancing down Spike was shocked to see several inches of a wooden shaft extending out of the front of his shirt.
"You shot me, you bloody little bitch!" He stumbled backward into the chair, one hand clutching the blood-soaked cloth around the arrow.
"That's not all I did, Spiky." Leaning down, she whispered in his ear. "I called a vengeance demon on you, you bad, bad dog. How do you like to bleed?" Harmony tossed her head, throwing her very blonde hair over her shoulder. "Well, how do you like it, 'cause that's how I felt every time you neglected me, every time you looked at someone else instead of me, every time you hurt me. Enjoy your death by blood loss, Spiky." Smiling blankly, Harmony stalked out of the crypt, blonde hair bouncing behind her.
"Bloody hell, women will be the end of me. Bloody bitches, all of them." Slumping from the chair to the floor, Spike mourned Harm's dumb-luck timing. He'd finally been allowed to touch the woman he loved and he might sit here and bleed to death before he saw her again. "Hurry, Buffy."
***