A Slayer Lost (6/11: Morning After)
Angelus angelus1317@hotmail.com
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.

~*~

Spike was awake. He certainly wasn't happy about it, but he was awake. Groggily, he brought a hand up to rub the sleep from his eyes, and felt it brush smooth, cold skin. Reflexively, he jumped back.

What he saw made his eyes start to tear up all over again; Buffy lay on his bed, a tableau of death. The sheets beneath her were soaked through with blood, sweat, and cum - both of theirs. Blood was caked into her hair, smeared across her lips, and dried in large, chunky clots at her neck. Her arms were flung wide across the bed, her legs spreadeagled.

Spike took a deep breath as he wiped his eyes. This was it - he was done crying. He was done - from here on in, he would be nothing but excited for Buffy's coming transformation.

He picked her up, wincing as he tried to separate the sheets that had been cemented to her skin and hair. He cradled her in his arms and brought her into the back. Her arms and legs swung limply, and her head lolled back, but Spike forced himself onward.

In the bathroom, he laid her in the tub the two of them had been in just 48 hours or so ago. Good, he thought. Smile. Good memories. He filled the tub with warm, soapy water and took his time gently cleaning her body, scrubbing away the residue of the last few days with a soft sponge. When her skin was clean, he moved to her hair, working shampoo through the damp, silky strands, then rinsing with a cup that rested on the ledge of the tub. Finally, he drained the tub and turned on the shower head to rinse her off completely.

Getting her out of the tub and dried off turned out to be much more difficult that he had thought, but he managed to brace her against his own still-nude body and wrap one towel around her underneath her arms, the other around her hair. He left her draped across the toilet seat while her ventured back out into the bedroom to change the bedding.

Just as he tossed the soiled sheets into a heap in the corner and replaced them with clean ones, he realized how risky it would be to leave her out in plain sight. He'd have to hide her somewhere...

As disgusting as the idea seemed, his mind settled on the crypt upstairs, which was really the only possible place; he doubted anyone would stumble across her there.

"Oh, the things I do for you, Slayer," he muttered as he climbed the ladder and hoisted himself out of the ladder and hoisted himself out of the manhole to inspect what would soon be her new, temporary living quarters. Sliding the lid off, he peered inside. It was dirty, but that could be fixed. Hurrying downstairs - and stopping on the way to check on Buffy - he grabbed his last pair of clean sheets and used them to line the inside of the sarcophagus, even adding a pillow for her head.

Finally, he laid her in it, removing to the towels and covering her nude form with a blanket. He managed - but just barely - to keep his tears in check as he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before replacing the stone lid, sealing her in.

"I love you, Buffy," he told the stone tomb, laying a palm against the cold concrete. Then he turned and climbed back down the ladder to his bedroom.