DISCLAIMER: Ya know, the one I kept forgetting to put in. I own nothing -- there, I said it. Happy?

Chapter additions will be very periodic (if you haven't noticed already). School sucks up writing time. Just thought I'd warn you -- but please stick with me.

"Buffy," Giles continued, "even under these circumstances, I must admit that the best thing for us is to get as far away from here as possible."

"Giles, I'm not leaving. He saved Dawn's life. He took an arrow for her." Buffy's voice was rising, causing Giles to be slightly taken aback. She shook her head, "I'm not leaving him." She paused, ignoring the stares and silence of the gang. "Giles help me."

"Buffy, it's no use. All we have is magic and though it may slow the process, it would be useless, the arrow will still release it's poison."

"We're going to have to get it out of him then."

Giles hesitated at the sight of his Slayer. In her defiance, she seemed to stand head-lengths above him. She was too compassionate -- too human to be a killer. This vampire that had hurt her so many times over, produced this. She could has easily let him lay there and die, but instead she alienated all her friends.

He was proud of her.

Giles smiled slightly at her authority, nodded, and scurried to get what medical supplies he had.

All the sudden confusion of the upcoming procedure left Dawn by herself in the corner. She gazed over Spike's still body. She couldn't tell if he was dead or alive. She worried whole-heartedly for him. Her body ached at the pain he must be feeling -- pain meant for her. Dawn walked wearily over to the counter towards Spike. She stood over him, studying his face. His sparkling eyes, which he only let shine for her or Buffy, lay closed. His lips pursed together, albeit, loosely. His arms lay palm up at his sides. Spike, sensing her worry, opened his eyes. He gazed into hers, tears silently streamed. Shock and concern immediately sprung to his face and an lump lodged in his throat. Oh, God, what was wrong? What happened? Was I unconscious that long? Then, realization spread. She wasn't crying for herself, or any of the Scoobies. She was crying for him. For his pain. No one had ever done that for him before.

"Don't worry, luv, I'm not dead yet," Spike smiled weakly at her, she smiled thinly back.

Spike stared at the Lil' Bit. She was so important to Buffy. And the love that she had for younger sister had transcended to him. Jumping in the way of that arrow -- there wasn't even a choice in his mind. It was pure reflex. Even knowing the outcome, he would do it again with the same determination. It was strange, being through all that she had, having Glory searching for her this very minute, would have given her the right to be the most frazzled of them all. But just the opposite had resulted. In a room of turbulation, she seemed the only calm one. Spike was able to draw from this placidness, keep himself from grabbing Xander, who was getting frightening close with those pliers, and throwing him through the farthest wall. He was only thankful he had made it in time. The smallest hesitation and it could be her laying on this table. Spike looked into the little one's eyes, playing with the idea of the horrible role reversal.

Dawn stood, getting lost in his piercing blues. He had saved her life. There was no other way to put it. All the horrible things he had tried to do to Buffy in the past faded. He was good down deep inside, Dawn just knew it. Maybe it was a perk of being the key. She could see into people, look past the unnecessary exterior and see what really mattered. There were not many perks to being the key, but Spike serving as her unofficial protector was a major one. What if he hadn't jumped in the way? What if it was . . . "

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," the uninhibited cry of pain shook Dawn out of her thoughts. Spikes head was thrown back against the table in pain. Buffy was over him gentle dabbing the wound with gauze. Dawn's view of her protector was lost in the sea of people quickly gathering around him with all the medical supplies they could muster.

Buffy watched as Giles fumbled through the brown leather bag, finally pulling out scissors. Giles held them up to the light, adjusting his glasses.

"Giles, please tell me you know how to work a pair of scissors," Buffy gawked as his confusion.

With an annoyed glance, he leaned over Spike and begun to cut his black t-shirt to expose the wound.

The shirt now open, Giles pulled Buffy aside.

"It's no good just bandaging him up, he has to get that arrow out of him."

"Yeah, let's do it then," Buffy said matter-of-factly, thinking that that decision had already been made.

"Buffy, I hardly have the right supplies here to bandage a paper cut rather than perform surgery."

"Where do you want to take him, the hospital? Glory is there, Glory is everywhere. We can't trust Ben, she has control over him. Giles we have to do something. Now."

"Buffy, what we have to do now is get out of town. It's just not safe here."

"I'm not leaving yet. Take Dawn and get out of here. I have to stay. I'm not going to run from her for the rest of my life."

"I didn't say run from Glory; just get away were we'll be safe for just enough time to make a plan."

"What about Spike? I'm not going to leave him here for Glory to get to him."

"Buffy, when have you started caring about what happens to Spike?"

"I don't." she paused. "He knows about Dawn. Glory didn't get anything out of him before, but she might. He saved Dawn, I owe him my life. Giles please help me." The pleading in her eyes ripped at him. Anything Glory could do to him was nothing compared to how she looked at him now. Giles nodded and turned back to Spike.

Buffy, now realizing the seriousness of the operation turned, "Willow, take Dawn and go into the training room."

Dawn was defensive, "No, I want to stay."

Buffy was in no mood to deal with her stubbornness, "No you don't."

Spike, weakly lifting his head a little, "Trust me, luv, you don't want to see this."

Dawn turned, she was beat. The two people she trusted most had decided it wasn't good for her to be in the room. She would listen, but it didn't mean that they were right.

Spike turned his head back toward Giles who is holding sharp, shiny instruments he obviously does not know what to do with. He let out a snide remark before plopping his head back onto the table:

"Oh, dear God."