Buffy climbs back down the railings into Spike's bedroom. Asleep on the bed, he hasn't moved at all since she left him.
At the foot of the bed she unpacks a overnight bag, pulling out towels, bottles of water, packs of blood from the butcher, and bandages.
She dampens the towel, sits down gingerly next to him. He stirs a little.
As carefully as she can she starts wiping the blood out of his eye.
His good eye opens.
"Buffy..."
She smiles down at him.
"How're you feeling?"
"Never better."
She wipes a bit more blood out of his eye, unlocking his eyelashes.
"You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."
"I was being serious, luv." His hand squeezes her leg.
She finally uncakes his eye.
"Are your bandages alright? Not too tight?"
"If I say they pinch will you wrap me up on your knees again?"
She rolls her eyes, cleaning more blood off his face.
"Tara's on her way. She'll be here soon."
"How soon?"
"In about 40."
"Not too soon then." His hand slides further up her leg.
"You cannot be serious."
He leers at her, baring bruised gums.
"That's not a no."
She pulls his hand off her leg, reaches for the bandages and wraps up the claw marks on his wrist.
The cuts on his lip are starting to close. She leans in to kiss him, cautious not to reopen the wounds. He purrs at the touch of her.
"I love you, Buffy."
"I love you. I'm not hurting you am I?"
"Yeah, it's agony, kiss it better."
"Do you ever take anything seriously?"
He pulls her back into another kiss, still gentle but fervent.
"Spike, stop. Your stomach." She pulls back and he growls with exasperation. "Just lie back, ok? Try to relax."
"If you wanted me to relax you wouldn't be such a bleedin' tease."
She strokes his face, and he lets out a soft sigh.
"I'm not a tease, I just don't want you to hurt yourself."
"It's fine, it doesn't hurt."
"Spike, I'm-" he sits up, hand pressing against his abdomen.
"No really, it doesn't."
She furrows her brow. They both glance down at his stomach, and she gently touches it, expecting him to flinch back but he doesn't. She unwinds the top part of the bandage. Keeps unwinding until it's off.
There's barely anything there. No deep awful cut, just a few scratches and a pale pink line running up to his heart.
"Uhh… That's…"
"Yeah." He runs his hand over his skin.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine…. hungry."
"I bought blood, figured you-"
"Not hungry for that."
He pulls her down on top of him, mouth crashing into hers, his fingers grip her biceps so hard she feels bruises flowering underneath. She pulls out of his kiss, it takes force to push him back down.
"What the hell's gotten into you?"
"God Buffy- I," he's panting, fingers digging into her arms, "if you don't touch me it feels like I'm going to die. Please."
He pulls her leg over his hip so she's straddling him, his hand on the back of her head forcing her mouth down onto his, tongue searching out every inch of her mouth. His mouth is devouring hers, hands gripping her hair. She moves her hands from the bed to his sides, sliding up his chest and he moans at her touch.
"Say you love me, Buffy."
There's a need in his voice, a hitch like he's breaking apart.
"Spike-"
"Say it! Please!"
"It's ok, I love you, just calm down."
"Buffy," he moves her hand on top of his heart, anchoring it there with his own, "again... say it again."
"I... I love you, what's- OH GOD-" she pulls back from him. William's staring up at her, tawny hair pooling around his head. His lips are shredded, bitten to pieces. Bite marks cover his neck, oozing dark blackish blood. Half of his face is covered in it, eye caked shut. She pulls her hands back and they come away red. The enormous gash running from his heart to his gut is soaking her clothes.
"Oh... god."
She tries to move off him but he grabs her wrists.
"Dont- don't go."
"I'm hurting you- let go!"
"I need to- don't... Buffy." He pulls her down, arms wrapping around her back. Her face is buried in his hair. She feels the warmth of his blood soaking in through her clothes.
"Buffy... it's coming back... he's coming back... but I'm safe-," he coughs and she feels speckles of blood on her cheek, "safe... in the day. The spark... pushes him back."
"What spark?"
"The... it's-," he's panting, thick wet gasps.
"What spark?!"
"What's that, luv?"
She yanks herself back. Spike stares up at her from the bed. Every cut and bite is gone, nothing but glowing white skin underneath her. He runs his hands up her legs. He lets out a low, soft growl that reverberates up her spine, his hips thrusting up into her.
"You look so nice, straddlin' me like that." He snickers, moving his hands up to undo the button of her jeans.
"Stop." She pulls his hands away.
"Back to teasin' then is it."
"You... you were..."
"BUFFY?"
Tara's voice echoes down around the crypt, making them both jump.
"Down here Tara, we're coming up!"
Buffy moves off him, avoiding his eyes, and starts climbing the railings. He finds a shirt in the hamper, buttons it, pulls on his boots and follows her.