Two

Shadows flitted in and out of focus; words whispered softly; a light touch on his brow…

"Sweet Goddess, Buffy, did he just…?"

"I saw it too. Guys, help me…gently Xander!"

Voices faded and suddenly, he felt hands upon his body and then he felt as light as air.


Pain, pain in his head, like someone hooked jumper cables directly into the grey matter. So much pain, he barely heard the agitated voices around him.

"Giles…to do something! ...won't stop firing…"

"…sn't matter anyway…he is just a vam…"

"…swear to God, Xander, if you don't…"

Pain surged through him once again and his back arched as he screamed. The light touch was back, gentle strokes on his wrist and a stirring of air near his ear.

He flailed with one arm, the motion sapping his remaining strength.

"Don't leave me." he whispered brokenly.

"I'm here…"

Darkness wrapped around him.

Pain faded.


Fire.

His throat burned with fire and the room filled with snarls and growls.

"…the hell is this? Jesus Christ, Xander! I ask for some blood and you bring me back this crap!"

"Hey! You go out at three in the afternoon and this is what you get! Too early for the next shipment and all of the good stuff gone or at least that is what Bernie the Butcher told me…next shipment won't arrive for the next four hours."

"I am not going to give him this shit. Take it away."

A new voice joined the others.

"He needs blood, Buffy…don't you at least want to see if…"

"Dawnie, no. He saved your life and I am not going to feed him blood that I wouldn't even give to a…vampire. He deserves more respect than that."

The fire burned and the voices faded. In the distance, the growls changed to screams as a current of agony surged in his head once more.


"…what the hell are you doing?"

"Don't look at me like that. I am not going to let him starve."

A mouthwatering aroma filled his nose and, instinctively, he reached toward the smell, brought it to his lips…and drank. He felt something flinch and he made a noise of distress and the sticky fluid dribbled from the corners of his mouth.

Firm pressure pushed the elixir back to his lips and a soft voice prompted him to drink.

"Dawnie...ss me that cloth." And then something wet, cool and just a little bit rough brushed against the corners of his mouth, his chin."...take as much as you need Spike, I am not leaving."

He wondered who Spike was.


It was a cycle.

Pain, currents firing through his brain.

The burn in his throat.

The soft voice.

The gentle hands and the sweet elixir that took the burn away before darkness claimed him again.

Too many iterations to count.


Sometimes there were more voices but the conversation was too confusing to follow.

"I wish you had woken me up, Giles. I don't like giving him that shit from the butcher's."

"…you can't keep donating. You need to rest and replenish if you insist on giving him your blood…"

"I think mine helps him heal faster Giles. Remember, three days ago, we tried the freshest that Bernie had and I think the pain got worse. He needed more blood just a half hour later and …Giles, he was in agony. We have to do something about that chip."

"Buffy, I hardly think removing the chip is the most sensible course of action…"

"I just wish I knew how to get in touch with Riley."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, I heard you Giles. But that chip needs to come…shit! He's seizing again. See! When he takes from me, he seems to need less blood and he seems to be free from the pain for hours."

Gentle fingers once again at his temple, the soothing voice in his ear, and sweet sweet elixir at his lips. He sucked as gently as he could, he hated it when she flinched.

He tried so hard not to be greedy.


Pain.

The pain was back. An endless flash of lightening sparking behind his eyes. The pain was so bad, it obliberated the other sensations, especially the ones that soothed -the gentle brushes fingers, the soft voice in his ear. But the agony was so great, he couldn't even mourn the loss.

Blackness.

The pain was back and it was searing. A sound escaped his lips, half moan half whimper and he tried to raise his hand up to rub his temple. Tried. But his hand wouldn't move, something holding it down. Panic spread through him, quick rapid images of rusted chains, relentless whiplashes and an insidious chuckle.

"No. no. no." he continued to tug his hands up, tossing his head from side to side. Vaguely, he became aware of the voices.

"…has to be some other way! Look at him…"

"Do you think I haven't racked my brains trying to come up with a better solution?"

"Oh you really don't want to know what I think right now."

"Dawn, please just calm…"

"Giles, he saved me. He sacrificed…"

He stopped listening, the pain too great.

Instead he endured.


Gentle fingers stroked at his temple and he sighed at the sensation, let it take over to drown out the voices and dull the pain.

A voice in his ear spoke nonsense about spikes, chips, and god I am so sorry, but you need to hold still. Then firm pressure at his mouth, the sweet elixir and he barely heard her "Now. Do it now, dammit and if you cause him even a fraction of pain that is more than necessary, I. Will. End. You."

The pain exploded and a groan of pain escaped him but he continued to lap at the elixir. All that mattered was her touch. Her blood. And her voice telling him he was strong. He was brave.

He was a hero.

Darkness.