It was definately the worst snow storm Sunnydale had seen since, well, forever. Spike hurried as fast as he could in knee-high drifts towards his crypt, cursing every few steps. When he tripped over something on the ground he toppled over, face first in the snow. Cursing yet again as he stood up he turned to see what it was he stumbled over. A surprised "Buffy?" was all he could manage. Spike put two fingers to her throat and felt for a pulse. It was there. Damn faint, but she was alive. Though she may not be for long if she didn't get inside soon. He noticed she was an erie pale blue-ish colour. Spike lifted Buffy and gently carried her cradle-style, her head resting against his shoulder. In a few minutes they reached the crypt and Spike lay the still unconscious Buffy on his bed. He covered her with the blanket, then sat beside her on the bed and waited. Spike looked at Buffy. She was gorgeous, even when half-dead. He couldn't resist, Spike reached out and touched her cheek softly. He pulled away suddenly when Buffy stirred a little. Spike noticed that she felt really cold, even to him. He sat beside her on the bed, just looking at her face, for the next half hour or so. Spike felt a small wave of relief when he noticed her cheeks were gaining their colour. He reached over to turn on the small stereo on the little table beside the bed. He flipped the cd to number 7 and pushed the play button. Buffy stirred again as the music drifted around her. Spike noticed her eyes flutter slightly. He barely blocked the blow that was aimed toward his head, grabbing Buffy's wrists and holding them down at either side of her face.
"'Bout time you woke up, Slayer." Buffy glared at Spike as she struggled against his grip.
"Let go of me, Spike, I'm warning you," she hissed.
"You'll what? Listen, you're weak. You're not going anywhere." Buffy stopped struggling and Spike let go of her wrists. She sat up on the bed.
"Why the hell am I here?" she asked, looking around.
"I found you passed out in a snow bank, luv. Brought you here to warm up. I guess you could say I saved your life. Again." That really grated Buffy's nerves. She would have kicked his ass, if she weren't so exhausted.
"What are you talking about, Spike?" she spat out.
"Don't you remember the little incident at the mansion?" Buffy froze, but not because she was still cold. She did remember. The floor had collapsed and she had had to let Spike drink from her in order for both of them to get out in time. She thought about it quite often, actually, but she didn't want Spike to know that. She remembered how he had left her neck, with just a gentle touch of his lips. Buffy often wondered how his lips would feel on her own, though she would never admit it, not even to herself.
"As I recall, that was a collaborated effort." Buffy tried to sound as disgusted as possible, even though she wasn't. It hadn't hurt like she thought it would. Just for the first few seconds, but after that, it actually felt kind of- no. Don't even go there, she thought.
"Yes, well. How are you feeling?" questioned Spike.
"Cold." And exhausted, and really hungry , she added silently.
"I'd give you another blanket, but I don't have any more. I'd also suggest body heat, but, don't have that either." Buffy rolled her eyes. "I do have some marshmallows, if you're hungry." Spike didn't have to wait long for a reply to that.
"I'm starved," Buffy said weakly.
"Excellent, be right back then." Spike stood up and walked over to the other side of the crypt to a sort of storage cubby. Only then did Buffy notice the music playing beside her. Spike walked back to the bed with a small un-opened bag.
"I didn't know you listened coldplay," she said as Spike handed her the bag.
"There are lots of things you don't know about me, Slayer" He gave her a sad smirk.
"Like whether or not you have a phone? I didn't bring mine." sighed Buffy
"Right, I suppose you'd want to phone that Watcher of yours, and all." Buffy nodded as she popped a handful of mini-marshmallows into her mouth. "Sorry, luv," Spike said, sticking his cell back into his pocket. "It's dead."
"The storm," Buffy frowned, frustrated, before sticking a few more marshmallows into her mouth.
Spike helped himself to a few marshmallows before asking, "What were you doing out there, anyway? Don't tell me you were patrolling, not in that."
Buffy swallowed before replying. "I had to." she said just a little defensively. "It's not like I wanted to be out in the middle of a huge blizzard. But if I didn't go..." she trailed off. "Oh, God."
"What? What is it?" Spike asked. His attempt to cover his concern failing.
"I have to find it. Now."
"Buffy, find what?"
"The Whasora demon. There are some jerks making a sacrifice either tonight or tomorrow. I have to stop the raising."
"A Whasora demon? Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes, Giles found this prophecy, "
Damn, Spike thought. He hated prophecies. Especially ones about big demons from the Otherworlds that were going to take over Earth and reak havoc and sod all. He had heard about Whasora demons. And that was what they were best at.
"And we've noticed the decline in activity recently, setting this up. Y'know, the calm before the storm."
"Sure," was all Spike could get out. There had been a decline, but he never would have thought it was because of something like this. Then again, most destructive, psychotic demon worshippers were unpredictable. Buffy was right. She had to find it, now. If this thing rose, there wasn't really a way to stop it. "How are you planning on finding the ritual?"