This is my first Buffy fic and I have nowhere near the writing skills as the talented writers of Buffy. This takes place sometime after 'Smashed" in season 6. Obviously, I don't own any of the characters and such. I'm not sure how far I'm going to take this, I guess it depends on the feed back.

"Buffy?!" Spike called out as he stepped into the Summer's house. "I know you're here, love, all the lights are . . . " he trailed off once he saw everybody sitting around in the living room.

Everyone but Buffy.

"Where's Buffy?" She didn't show up to patrol tonight." Genuine concern hid somewhere beneath the pretend irritated tone Spike asked in.

Everyone looked around nervously, avoiding any eye contact with Spike. It was painfully obvious they were keeping something from him.

Willow was the most obvious of all. She kept fidgeting in the armchair she sat in. Shifting her weight from side to side, twiddling her thumbs, and bouncing her eyes around the room like it was the first time she'd ever seen it.

Xander just stared blankly out the window, clenching his fists by his sides. Anya was resting her head on his shoulder, looking like everyone she had ever loved just died.

Giles, who had the entire couch to himself, sat at the end farther from Spike. He kept sipping on his tea throughout the silence. His face looked torn between anger and deep concern.

"What, have you all gone def then?" Spike pushed with real irritation this time. This whole 'nobody acknowledging his existence' was not going to float. After helping them out for all this time, he was apparently still treated like a leper. "Fine, you wont tell me then I'll find her myself." He through his arms up in frustration and made his way for the stairs.

"Wait!" Giles jumped up after Spike. "You can't go up there!"

"And why the bloody hell not?" Finally someone had recognized his presence, but the Watcher hadn't exactly handed over any information.

"Well . . . uhm . . . you see," Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them like he tended to do when he got nervous.

"I think what Giles is trying to say is that . . . uhm . . . you see . . . Buffy isn't feeling great tonight," Willow chimed in, like she was convincing herself as she went along. "She said that uhm . . . you should go patrol without her."

"You're lying," Spike pointed out, looking at everyone suspiciously now. He didn't want to let his mind make the connection, but it was evident that something was wrong with Buffy. He aggressively grabbed Giles by the shirt and pulled him right up against him. Glaring into the Watcher's eyes, Spike almost growled out, "What happened to the Slayer?!"

Sweat beads had already started forming on Giles's forehead. He knew Spike couldn't hurt him because of the chip in his head, but he also knew Spike would risk anything—including his brain exploding—for Buffy.

"W-Willow is partly right. You s-see, Buffy was, er, at the Bronze . . . and well . . . "Giles couldn't find the words to explain exactly what happened. All his training and years as a Watcher hadn't prepared him for something like this. Thankfully Willow jumped in the conversation to his rescue.

"I found her—Buffy—in the alley outside the Bronze . . . she was passed out on the ground . . . she looked so terrible . . ." Willow was getting lost in her memory of finding Buffy. She'd seen her best friend dead before, but even then she never looked as terrible as she did tonight. Willow's eyes were already starting to well up with tears.

".?!" Spike pushed Giles from himself and started charging towards Willow.

"She—she was drugged and uhm, she was . . . " like Giles, Willow was having trouble with words, too.

"And what?!" Spike had backed her up against the wall and towered over her.

"She was raped," Xander said through clenched teeth.

If Spike's heart was still beating it would have just stopped. He felt everything drain from his face and his hands impulsively went into fists, like Xander's.

"And nobody told me?!?!" Calm Spike had left the house, in his place was pissed and freaking out Spike.

"Well we thought you would, you know, uhm . . . do this." Willow admitted sheepishly.

"Of course I'd—Where is she?" Spike had had just about enough of this.

Willow, stricken with fear, just pointed up indicating that Buffy was upstairs.

Without a word Spike shoved away from Willow and practically ran to and up the stairs.

"Spike," Giles called up to him before he got to the top of the stairs. "She's still pretty rough and very uneasy with talking abou---"

"Then you all should be up there with her. Idiots."

While slowly opening the door, Spike knocked quietly, hoping he wouldn't startle Buffy. She was tucked beneath a mountain of blankets, way more than he'd ever seen her use, or anyone use for that matter. She sat up the minute he set foot into her room. Her face was painfully bruised and cut up, which was rare to see due to her slayer healing powers. Stains of mascara tears trailed down her dace. The top of her left shoulder peaked out of the covers and so did the deep purple handprint bruise.

Everything snapped inside of Spike. He wanted to track down who ever did this to his slayer and beat them to a bloody pulp, make them beg for death. But at the same time, he just wanted to wrap Buffy in his arms and hold her until it was all-better. She looked so fragile and scared; she never looked fragile and scared.

"Spike," Buffy whispered. She wasn't at all surprised that he'd come to see her. When Giles had brought her upstairs and tucked her in she tried to tell him to let Spike know, but she was too groggy to get the words out.

It would be a complete lie to say she wasn't happy he came to see her. It was undeniable that there was some sort of connection between the two. Buffy could fight it all she wanted, and she did, but deep down she knew something was there.

"Hey Buffy," the unease in Spike's face came through in his voice as well. He was still standing just inside her doorway, debating if this was really a good idea. He knew she needed someone, and he wanted to be that someone. But he wasn't so sure any more if she wanted him to be. "How are you feeling, love?"

"Could you close my door?" She didn't want to answer his question while anyone lingering in the hall could hear her. As far as her friends knew, she was coping with everything alright and just needed some sleep. Truthfully though, she felt miserable, the worst she'd ever felt in her life. But she couldn't let her friends know how weak and small she felt—that just wasn't an option. Something about Spike made him different though.

A little bit confused, Spike closed the door behind him and knelt down next to her bed. "So how are you feeling . . . really?"

"I got taken down by a human, Spike . . . " She couldn't even look at him when she talked. She felt so ashamed and helpless. "I don't even feel like myself." Tears were starting to collect in her eyes. "I feel like . . . like a Buffy shell." And then the water works started. They couldn't be held back any more, it was all just too much. She was the Slayer, she'd even died twice, these kinds of things weren't supposed to happen to her.

"You're not a 'Buffy shell' you're Buffy. The Slayer. All of her." He was kicking off his shoes and climbing into bed with her. That need to hold her just multiplied with every tear she let fall.

He pulled her in close to his body, wrapping his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She snuggled into his side and rested her head on his chest, letting his shirt catch her tears.

"You listen to me now, love. This doesn't change who you are, it doesn't make you any less of a person. This wasn't a demon or a vampire or an apocalypse. There were no horns or slimy skin as a dead give away," that got a small laugh out of her. "But you'll get through this, just like you get through everything. You're the strongest women I've ever met Buffy . . . and I've been around a while."

"I know you're right . . . " She traced a line with her finger across his stomach to keep her mind from focusing too hard. "I just wish I didn't feel so . . . cold."

"Well between me," he gave her a little squeeze, "and all these blankets, I think we can fix that." He knew how heavy this situation was, he was still trying to wrap his mind around it, but he hoped maybe making Buffy laugh a little would help her start getting through this.

"Spike, can I ask you a favor?" She looked up at him with her big pouty eyes.

He looked down at her and knew that no matter what she asked, he'd do it for her. There was no way he could say 'no' to those eyes. Once again, he was loves bitch.

"Anything you want," he answered softly.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Spike laughed and rolled his eyes, "Love, there was no chance of you getting rid of me tonight."

For the first time since everything happened, Buffy smiled. She knew right then that she loved him. It kind of just hit her like a ton of bricks. But now wasn't the time to tell him, she didn't want this day to be associated with anything good.

She did want to show him that he made her feel . . . less cold. She cupped Spike's face in her hand and brought it down to hers. Inching up just a tiny bit, Buffy closed the distance between their lips.

It took a minute to register what was happening in Spike's head. She'd kissed him before; they'd even destroyed a house going farther than that. But this was different, it was sweet and intimate. There was no push or pressure to make it anything more than it was. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Spike could have sworn he felt his still heart beat.

Giles cracked open the door and couldn't believe what he saw. Buffy and Spike, he would have never guessed. Maybe this was a spell or she was delusional from the lingering drugs in her system.