They spent so little time just enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed together and the comforting embraces that each could other, that both Buffy and Spike had completely forgotten what it was like just to be close… just to hold each other and appreciate the company and good intentions behind it.

"Spike?" Buffy spoke up, her eyes closed and her head still resting comfortably in the crook of Spike's neck.

"Yeah, pet?" He answered, almost falling asleep if it weren't for the twinges of pain that kept radiating from his arm and chest.

"Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course you can, pet." He nodded, trying not to jostle her head. "I'd like that."

It wasn't necessarily for his benefit either. Buffy just wanted to know that he would be safe and comfortable and, in truth, she wanted to feel safe and comfortable too.

"Thank you." She replied, running her hand up and down his back whilst making a conscious effort not to lean against him too much. "Spike?" She spoke again, tentatively drawing out his name. "I'm really sorry."

Confusion flashed behind his eyes as they opened and he shook his head. "What're you sorry for, Buffy? You haven't done…" he just shook his head again. "Don't need to be sorry for anything."

"But…" she replied, shifting slightly on his lap. "In the past, you know what I've done. I've…"

He cut her off before anymore could be said. "Don't go there, Buff. We need to forget about everything and focus on the here and now. What's the good in digging up old graves?"

She really wanted him to know how sorry she was for everything and how guilty she felt every day for hurting him, but he obviously didn't want to continue the conversation.

"Okay." She sighed, fingering the waistband of his tight jeans. "I think I should wrap your ribs now."

Spike nodded in agreement. It was probably for the better for the topic to be dropped, even if it would case him immense pain.

The Slayer scooted off his lap and grabbed the first aid box again. "How many do you think are broken?" She asked softly, pulling out two rolls of heavy support bandages that looked like they had been worn before.

"I have no idea, pet." He replied, missing her weight on his legs. "Enough to hurt like hell." He saw her eying up the shirt he was wearing and shrugged. "Just cut it off, it'd just cause more pain than it's worth."

Buffy nodded and pulled out some scissors from the box. She didn't want to have to jar his arm and ribs removing the black material in the conventional manner. As she peeled off the shirt, she met Spike's gaze once again. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but this will hurt."

"I know." He nodded, "But I'm used to it."

In the gap of the sling, rapidly bruising and swelling flesh could clearly be seen. Buffy made a mental note to get some ice at a later point.

"Okay…" She breathed. "Brace yourself."

As she wrapped the bandage tightly around his broad chest, pain was inevitable and it came in fast, harsh sparks, regardless of how careful she was being.

"Ah," He groaned loudly, trying to stifle the pain as much as possible.

Buffy ignored his subtle protests and finished the job, securing the heavy bandaging in place with a small clip. "All done." She announced, pleased that Spike hadn't screamed like last time.

Spike's blue eyes were still tightly closed two minutes later, but he finally managed to mumble a "thanks", just to keep the Slayer happy.

She nodded, perfectly aware that he couldn't see it. "You're going to have to be on strict rest, Spike. I know what you're like."

"Me?" He smiled, feigning innocence. "What am I like?"

"Getting into fights even when you're injured," Buffy started, "Doing press-ups with broken fingers… need I go on?"

He smirked, seemingly proud of those feats, "Ah, well… yeah. You do know what I'm like."

Buffy laughed. "Yeah," She smiled before turning serious. "You are going to need to rest though, Spike."

"I know. I will." He nodded, honestly flashing in his eyes. "I give you my word."

Buffy smiled soppily and stayed that way for several moments before a lightbulb sparked in her head. "Shall I get you some blood?"

"That sounds like heaven." He nodded, "In the fridge."

She nodded and moved over to the kitchen area – if it could be called that, anyway, seeing as all it consisted of is a mediocre fridge and several dusty shelves. The fridge had used to be Giles', but he had a new one installed and Spike stole it from his front yard. Where fresh vegetables and milk for tea once lived, blood now ruled. Around ten packets of the thick red liquid lined the drawers at the bottom, and one plate of chicken wings filled the top.

Buffy pulled out a bag and decided against pouring it into a mug. Besides, Spike didn't actually have the luxury of a microwave.

"Here you go." She softly spoke upon return to the chair Spike was sitting on. His eyes were firmly closed, but she doubted very much that he had been granted the relief of sleep.

"Thanks, pet." He replied, his lips quirking up in a smile. "Fancy hand-feeding a vampire?"

She laughed and used her free hand to brush across his face. "I'd be honoured."

His eyes fluttered open and he shifted into game face.

"Wow…" Buffy murmured softly, "I haven't seen you like this for a while." She took in the heavy ridges and sharp fangs and noticed how even in this state, he looked much more appealing than Angel ever did.

"Let's just get the blood over with, Buffy." He sighed, looking away.

She complied, holding the bag close to his mouth as he deeply sucked it in. Within seconds the bag was completely drained. She offered a second bag, but Spike wasn't interested.

"One's more than enough." He nodded. "Thank you. Maybe later."

Buffy tossed the empty bag into a dark corner and nodded, standing awkwardly just next to Spike.

"Come 'ere." He smiled, gesturing for her to sit on his lap once again. "'m getting lonely."

She moved over to him again with fluid grace and carefully positioned herself on his lap. "I don't want to hurt you." She sighed, knowing full well that even if she did hurt him, he'd try his damn best to hide it.

"Jus' be careful and I'll be fine." He spoke. "I don't even care, Buffy." Anything to be close to you… he mentally added.

Buffy carefully leant her head against the shoulder of his good arm again, and held her body far enough away from his as not to cause pain. "Okay." She softly mumbled, lack-of sleep beginning to catch up on her.

"You tired, pet?" He spoke just as softly, bringing up his arm to stroke her sunshine hair.

"Yeah…" She nodded, "I didn't realise how tired I was until just now."

"We could go downstairs?" Spike suggested, "You take the bed?"

"If we can share, it's a deal." Buffy replied, still mumbling. "Can't have you sleeping on the floor."

Spike took a guess to say she was slightly delusional from lack-of sleep, but it wasn't as though he could take advantage of her; once kick or punch and he'd be floored in a matter of seconds.

"Come on then, pet." He murmured, fingers untangling from her beautifully soft locks. "I'd offer to carry you, but it's probably not such a good idea."

"Wouldn't expect you too." She laughed, scooting away again. "Will you be able to handle the steps?"

"Just so long as you're there to catch me, pet."

((TBC…))