Buffy woke to the sound of someone rummaging around in the fridge. She lifted her head groggily, unwilling to leave the warm cocoon of blankets she had made on the couch. "Angel?" she called. He stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Good morning."

"What are you doing?" she asked, blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

"I had to run to the butchers for Spike. Just putting the blood away."

"Who's with Spike, then?" Buffy asked, struggling to sit upright. She had snatched a few hours of sleep between caring for the brutalized vampire, but she was still exhausted.

"Dawn's sitting with him," Angel replied, handing her a mug of coffee. "She's pretty worried about him, you know."

"Yeah." Buffy sipped at the hot liquid, reluctant to dwell on her sister's relationship with Spike. "Any signs of improvement?"

"He'll swallow whatever we put into his mouth, but he hasn't woken up yet," Angel told her, sitting down on the couch next to her.

"So we still don't know who or what did this to him," Buffy said with a sigh. "Ugh."

"I've been thinking," Angel said softly, combing his fingers through her hair, straightening the tangles. "Whoever attacked him could have done it because he's associated with us."

"That's a lovely thought," Buffy mumbled darkly as the phone began to ring. She snatched it from the cradle. "Hello? Oh, hi Giles. We did?" she glanced over at Angel. "We were supposed to be at the Magic Box at nine," she whispered. Angel winced and looked guilty. "Sorry, Giles, it kind of slipped our mind. We came back last night and found Spike in the kitchen. Um, unconscious actually," Buffy rubbed her forehead. "Someone did a real number on him; he'd almost bled dry. He hasn't woken up yet, or we'd have asked. Yeah, so we're probably not going to make it in today. Sorry. All right. Talk to you later."

She put the phone away and began unwrapping the blankets. "I guess I'd better go relieve Dawn," she said. "When did he last eat?"

"Why don't you take a shower and get breakfast first?" Angel suggested. "I'm going to change Spike's bandages. You don't need to be there for that."

"Okay," Buffy leaned over and kissed him lingeringly. "I like seeing you first thing in the morning," she told him with a smile.

"Me, too." He kissed the tip of her nose and headed for the stairs. "Breakfast, remember!"

After a shower and a hastily gulped-down bowl of cereal, Buffy ventured into the sickroom. Angel was putting the old, bloody bandages in a garbage bag while Dawn straightened the blankets. Spike moaned and stirred faintly, his blue eyes opening briefly.

"Traitor," he mumbled, before slipping away again. Buffy stared at Angel.

"What the hell?"

"Did he mean we're the traitors or a traitor did this to him?" Dawn asked nervously.

"Probably the latter," Angel said, heading to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Buffy leaned over the edge of the bed. "Damn it, Spike, wake up and tell us what happened," she muttered. She jumped when the phone rang again and she snatched it up. "What?" she snapped.

"Buffy, uh, is this a bad time?" Hank asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Buffy said sharply. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was wondering if you had talked to Angel about coming over."

Buffy sighed and shook her head. "Listen, Hank, today is not good. Maybe we can work something tomorrow if Spike wakes up."

"Spike? Who's Spike?"

Buffy sighed again. "A friend. He—he got hit by a car."

"Oh. I'm so sorry. Is he going to be okay?"

"We don't know yet. I have to go, Hank. I'll call you back later." As she replaced the phone, Angel looked up at her.

"You should go," he told her. "Take Dawn and the girls."

"Why?" she asked, startled.

"Think about it as a way to figure out whether or not he's serious about repairing the relationships," Angel explained. "If he's not, then you never have to see him again. I promise."

"What about Spike?" Buffy asked, waving her hand at the comatose vampire.

"I don't want to go," Dawn said. Buffy startled; she had forgot her sister was in the room. "I want to stay here with Spike."

"There's nothing you can do for Spike right now, Dawn," Angel said gently. "You should go and be with your father."

Buffy ran her fingers through her wet hair (she hadn't taken the time to blow-dry). "Fine. The sooner we get this over with the better. We'll go over to his place tomorrow."

*****

Giles let himself in the front door of the Summers' house. He had been given a key shortly after Joyce had passed away. The gesture meant a great deal more to him than Buffy realized. He spotted a child's jacket on the floor and stooped to pick it up. The house was quite full now, with three girls under the age of sixteen plus an undead tenant.

Giles headed up the stairs, still carrying the jacket. He hung it over the doorknob of the girls' room before knocking gently on the door of the master bedroom.

"Giles? That you?" Angel called softly.

"Ah, yes, it's me." The Watcher pushed the door open. Angel sat by the bed, a battered-looking paperback in one hand. Giles' gaze flicked to the figure under the sheets, stirring fretfully. "How—how is Spike?"

"It's a good thing vampires aren't susceptible to infection," Angel said wearily. "He still hasn't woken up."

Giles moved closer so he could see the extent of his injuries. "Oh, dear lord!" he exclaimed at the number of white bandages. Spike turned his head toward Giles and opened his eyes.

"What's a watcher doin'?" he mumbled, and closed his eyes again.

"He's been in and out all morning," Angel said, getting up and stretching. "That's about as cognizant as he's gotten."

"And you still have no idea what happened?"

Angel rubbed his forehead. "None whatsoever."

Giles nodded wearily. "Buffy and the girls are over at her father's?"

"Yeah. They left about an hour ago."

"Angelus?"

Both men turned to Spike, who was trying to focus his ice blue eyes on Angel's face. "Not right. Angel now," he muttered to himself. "Liam's dead and gone."

"Spike, are you awake?" Angel asked softly, unsure if this was simply another of Spike's half-delusional mumblings.

"I think so," Spike replied. "Unless this is a dream. No, I hurt too sodding much."

Angel patted Spike's shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll pull through. What happened to you, Spike?"

"Was out for a walk. Basement walls were closing in, see?" Spike tried to get up, but the weight of Angel's hand on his shoulder kept him down. "Saw them just standing there. Didn't look right so I went to go see. They didn't like it. Didn't like it at all." Spike winced shifted to find a more comfortable position.

"What can you tell us about your attackers?" Giles asked.

"They were from Wolfram & Hart," Spike replied. "Heard them talking. Come to get the little girls back. Talking to a man."

"A man?" Angel demanded. "What man? A contact?"

Spike nodded. "They told him to get close to the Slayer. Find a way to get her off her guard."

"What else?" Angel tightened his grip on Spike's shoulder and the vampire flinched away. His brow furrowed in thought.

"I remember something else," he said after a minute. "They called him Hank."