"Slayer! What's wrong with you? Are you trying to get killed?" Spike
demanded, holding out a hand to help her up. She ignored it and tried to
stand up on her own. She failed, miserably.
"No, I'm not." She tried to stand up again, and this time she almost made it before she fell flat on her ass.
"Sure looked like it to me. You were lucky I was here."
"And why were you here Spike? I thought I told you to go home."
"Funny, but I don't recall you being the boss of me."
"If you knew what's good for you, you would have stayed home." Buffy tried to sound threatening, but it didn't work.
"You are absolutely right. If I knew that the price I had to pay for being out after dark was saving your sorry ass, I would have stayed home."
"Then why did you?" Buffy was angry, and hurt, and humiliated, and she didn't want to deal with Spike. Maybe if she acted like a real bitch he would go away.
"I really don't know, Slayer. Lord knows my life would be easier if I let the demon tear your spine out through your ass."
Buffy sighed, "Are you going to help me up?"
"No, I'm going home. Like you wanted me to, remember?"
"Well, now I want you to help me up."
"Doesn't work that way Princess. I don't jump to your every command."
"Fine, Spike, don't help. I'll be fine." She rose to her knees and winced as she felt the wide gash in her side open further.
"Are you hurt Slayer?"
Buffy looked up sharply. That was the second time she thought she heard concern in Spike's voice. "Not that you care, but yeah, I have a little cut."
"Where at?"
"Here." She pointed to the area just above her waistline on her left side.
"Let me see it."
"No! It's bleeding, you'll probably try to lick me or something gross like that."
Spike sighed, "Tell you what. I won't lick you unless you want me to. Now, let me see it."
Now that he was aware of the injury, he could smell the blood plainly. There was a lot of it. A frown marred his features as he kneeled beside her and carefully lifted her shirt. The demon's talon and ripped off a strip of skin, from her stomach all around her side, almost to her spine.
"This looks bad, Buffy," he said quietly, trying to wipe away as much blood as he could with the hem of silk shirt. "Come back to my crypt, it's closer."
"No! I'm so not going to your rat-infested crypt Spike. God knows what I might find there."
Spike sighed in frustration, and stood up, angry. "Fine, then, I'll leave you out here and some nasty can come and get a bite of you."
Buffy bit her lower lip, "Is it really that bad?"
"Yes, it is. You're going to lose too much blood if we don't get you bandaged up."
"What do you know about it?"
"I might know a little bit about how much blood a person can lose before they die. Especially Slayers."
"Referencing the slayers you killed before is not going to help your case, Spike." The words were mostly for show. The adrenalin had worn off, and pain was shooting through her body. She was also beginning to feel a bit light headed from the loss of blood.
"Good God, you're going to pass out right in the middle of cemetery. Come on, up we go." Spike easily picked her up in his arms.
She beat against his chest, rather ineffectually. "Put me down, damnit!"
"No."
"Yes!"
"Slayer, I'm not putting you down, now hold still."
"I hate you," she pouted.
"Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual. Hang tight, we'll be there in a couple of minutes."
Buffy relaxed into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt nice. Really, really nice. He smelt good too. Nothing like what you would expect an evil, undead thing to smell like. There was the slight hint of cigarette smoke, and whiskey, even blood, but something else too. Something sweet and dark.
His gait was long and smooth and kept the shaking and bumping to a minimum. That was definitely of the good, because she felt like she was on fire.
"Infected," she mumbled.
"What?" Spike asked.
"Might be infected." Her own words sounded very distant to her ears, like she was hearing her voice through long tunnels.
"Yeah, sweetheart, it is." His words were so soft; she might not have caught them at all if his mouth wasn't so close to her ear. Sweetheart? Had he just called her sweetheart? She couldn't focus on that right now though, she'd think about it later.
Spike moved as quickly as he dared. He should have just dragged her to her feet and to his crypt instead of standing around sparring with her. He knew the demon she was fighting carried a really nasty venom in its talon, and he hadn't even though to check her over for wounds. Stupid!
"Slayer, you're not falling asleep are you?"
"What happened to sweetheart?" She muttered.
"You want me to call you sweetheart, Sweetheart."
"S'nice."
"Yeah? Thought you hated nicknames."
"Like it when you're nice."
"I like it when you're nice too."
"Spike?"
"Mmmm?"
"The infection?"
"The demon has poison in its talon. Once it enters the bloodstream, it acts quickly. If you weren't the Slayer, you'd probably be dead by now."
"Reassuring."
"I know. We're almost there."
"Cure?"
"Yeah, I know of a cure. Don't worry about it." Spike reached his crypt while he was speaking, and without breaking stride, he kicked the door in.
"We're here," Buffy announced.
"That we are."
He laid her gently on the sarcophagus that doubled as his bed, but she held tight to his neck. He tried to disengage her arms, but she refused to move. "Come on, Slayer, you've got to let go."
"Don't want to."
"Yeah, but you have to."
With a sigh she let go of his neck, and Spike quickly pulled away from her. He had to think, and he had problems doing that clearly when she was so close. He didn't have many supplies in his crypt. It's not like he had a lot of time to go scavenging for magic herbs that cured deadly poison.
First things first though, he would have to clean her wound. He could do that, he had stolen a First Aid kit from the Watcher before he moved out. You never know when you would need clean bandages, especially in his line of work.
"I'm gonna have to take off your shirt," he warned her. "Don't fight me, ok? You'll just make it worse."
She nodded and slowly lifted her arms. "Does it hurt when you do that?" He asked. She nodded again. "I'll fix you up," he promised. He hoped he wasn't lying to her.
He slowly removed her blood-stained shirt and winced at the injury. It was worse; the skin had turned a bright and angry red. He began to wipe the blood away, aware of every grimace and moan of pain. It was a long ordeal, but finally she was clear of blood. Due to slayer healing the wound had already began to close and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.
"You still with me?"
"I am."
Spike studiously kept his eyes trained on the gash and the red skin, as opposed to the creamy, silky skin of her breasts. Breasts that had been pushed up against his chest, soft and giving. He shook his head. Now was not the time to fantasize about feeling up the Slayer.
Spike caught the Slayer's eyes and let his face change. There was a slight question in her eyes, but she didn't move them away as he cut his wrists with his fangs.
"You're not going to turn me into a vampire are you?" It was obvious the question cost her a lot of energy.
"Yeah, right, like I'd fancy spending eternity with you. This might sting a little." It stung a lot. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to writhe away from Spike, but she wanted to. The pain had been fairly centered before, but as Spike rubbed his blood into her quickly closing wound the pain spread through out her body. It felt like a million needles stinging her entire body, from the tips of her toes to her eyeballs.
"I know it hurts baby, just a little bit more," he whispered, trying to soothe her. "Just a little more."
"Spike, please."
With his free hand he gently caressed her face. "You'll be fine. Just a few more seconds. Then you can go to sleep."
She nodded and clenched her jaw and fists. She could do this, she had had worse. Just because she couldn't exactly remember it didn't mean this was the worst thing that ever happened.
Just when she thought she would lose consciousness, Spike pulled his wrist away. He quickly wrapped bandages around her body, making sure it was completely covered. "There you go."
"What did you do?" She asked.
"Vampire blood is a natural anti-venom. My blood coupled with your healing capabilities and you should be fine by tomorrow morning."
"Am I supposed to stay here?"
"Get some sleep for now. I'll take you home before sunrise."
Buffy was too tired to fight with him and before he had even finished his promise she had drifted off to sleep.
Spike sat there and watched her all night, not moving from his perch beside her. He kept an ear on her heartbeat, making sure it stayed strong and steady. As the night wore on, her breathing evened and the skin calmed to a shade of pink. As soon as she he felt like she was healthy enough to move, he lifted her and headed to her home.
"Are you taking me home?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah, pet, I am."
"I feel better."
"You are."
"I'm still tired."
His heart softened at the sound of her "little girl" voice. He never got a chance to see her really vulnerable, and now she was nestled in his arms, trustingly. How did Spike feel about that? He felt a surge of protectiveness. The Slayer did not need his protection, but it still felt nice to be needed, no matter how temporary.
"We're here, Slayer. Can you walk?"
"No."
"I think you're lying to me, Buffy."
"Carry me upstairs."
"You're awfully bossy." But even as he was talking, he was moving carefully up the stairs. His duster swirled around his legs, and the stairs creaked under their combined weight.
He laid her on the bed, then rummaged through her dresser looking for a T- shirt to cover her with. He found an old Sunnydale High t-shirt and her sushi pajamas. He pulled off her pants, half expecting to get kicked in the jaw for his efforts, but Buffy didn't protest. He wanted to caress her legs, skim his fingers down her sides and across her panties, but he figured it wasn't worth the definite dusty ending.
Instead he put her in her clean clothes and took a step back. "Goodnight Slayer."
"Night Spike." He turned to walk out the door when she called his name.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, Spike."
He smiled slightly, "Anytime."
"Spike?"
"Yes, Slayer?" She obviously had no intentions of letting him go.
"C'mere."
"Is something wrong, Pet? Are you still in pain?"
"No," she reached for him, and grasped his coat. She pulled him close and he didn't struggle. "Just wanted a goodnight kiss."
Before Spike could pull away in shock, she kissed him gently on his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," he breathed, then escaped into the cool night, away from her flush skin and hot, inviting mouth.
"No, I'm not." She tried to stand up again, and this time she almost made it before she fell flat on her ass.
"Sure looked like it to me. You were lucky I was here."
"And why were you here Spike? I thought I told you to go home."
"Funny, but I don't recall you being the boss of me."
"If you knew what's good for you, you would have stayed home." Buffy tried to sound threatening, but it didn't work.
"You are absolutely right. If I knew that the price I had to pay for being out after dark was saving your sorry ass, I would have stayed home."
"Then why did you?" Buffy was angry, and hurt, and humiliated, and she didn't want to deal with Spike. Maybe if she acted like a real bitch he would go away.
"I really don't know, Slayer. Lord knows my life would be easier if I let the demon tear your spine out through your ass."
Buffy sighed, "Are you going to help me up?"
"No, I'm going home. Like you wanted me to, remember?"
"Well, now I want you to help me up."
"Doesn't work that way Princess. I don't jump to your every command."
"Fine, Spike, don't help. I'll be fine." She rose to her knees and winced as she felt the wide gash in her side open further.
"Are you hurt Slayer?"
Buffy looked up sharply. That was the second time she thought she heard concern in Spike's voice. "Not that you care, but yeah, I have a little cut."
"Where at?"
"Here." She pointed to the area just above her waistline on her left side.
"Let me see it."
"No! It's bleeding, you'll probably try to lick me or something gross like that."
Spike sighed, "Tell you what. I won't lick you unless you want me to. Now, let me see it."
Now that he was aware of the injury, he could smell the blood plainly. There was a lot of it. A frown marred his features as he kneeled beside her and carefully lifted her shirt. The demon's talon and ripped off a strip of skin, from her stomach all around her side, almost to her spine.
"This looks bad, Buffy," he said quietly, trying to wipe away as much blood as he could with the hem of silk shirt. "Come back to my crypt, it's closer."
"No! I'm so not going to your rat-infested crypt Spike. God knows what I might find there."
Spike sighed in frustration, and stood up, angry. "Fine, then, I'll leave you out here and some nasty can come and get a bite of you."
Buffy bit her lower lip, "Is it really that bad?"
"Yes, it is. You're going to lose too much blood if we don't get you bandaged up."
"What do you know about it?"
"I might know a little bit about how much blood a person can lose before they die. Especially Slayers."
"Referencing the slayers you killed before is not going to help your case, Spike." The words were mostly for show. The adrenalin had worn off, and pain was shooting through her body. She was also beginning to feel a bit light headed from the loss of blood.
"Good God, you're going to pass out right in the middle of cemetery. Come on, up we go." Spike easily picked her up in his arms.
She beat against his chest, rather ineffectually. "Put me down, damnit!"
"No."
"Yes!"
"Slayer, I'm not putting you down, now hold still."
"I hate you," she pouted.
"Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual. Hang tight, we'll be there in a couple of minutes."
Buffy relaxed into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt nice. Really, really nice. He smelt good too. Nothing like what you would expect an evil, undead thing to smell like. There was the slight hint of cigarette smoke, and whiskey, even blood, but something else too. Something sweet and dark.
His gait was long and smooth and kept the shaking and bumping to a minimum. That was definitely of the good, because she felt like she was on fire.
"Infected," she mumbled.
"What?" Spike asked.
"Might be infected." Her own words sounded very distant to her ears, like she was hearing her voice through long tunnels.
"Yeah, sweetheart, it is." His words were so soft; she might not have caught them at all if his mouth wasn't so close to her ear. Sweetheart? Had he just called her sweetheart? She couldn't focus on that right now though, she'd think about it later.
Spike moved as quickly as he dared. He should have just dragged her to her feet and to his crypt instead of standing around sparring with her. He knew the demon she was fighting carried a really nasty venom in its talon, and he hadn't even though to check her over for wounds. Stupid!
"Slayer, you're not falling asleep are you?"
"What happened to sweetheart?" She muttered.
"You want me to call you sweetheart, Sweetheart."
"S'nice."
"Yeah? Thought you hated nicknames."
"Like it when you're nice."
"I like it when you're nice too."
"Spike?"
"Mmmm?"
"The infection?"
"The demon has poison in its talon. Once it enters the bloodstream, it acts quickly. If you weren't the Slayer, you'd probably be dead by now."
"Reassuring."
"I know. We're almost there."
"Cure?"
"Yeah, I know of a cure. Don't worry about it." Spike reached his crypt while he was speaking, and without breaking stride, he kicked the door in.
"We're here," Buffy announced.
"That we are."
He laid her gently on the sarcophagus that doubled as his bed, but she held tight to his neck. He tried to disengage her arms, but she refused to move. "Come on, Slayer, you've got to let go."
"Don't want to."
"Yeah, but you have to."
With a sigh she let go of his neck, and Spike quickly pulled away from her. He had to think, and he had problems doing that clearly when she was so close. He didn't have many supplies in his crypt. It's not like he had a lot of time to go scavenging for magic herbs that cured deadly poison.
First things first though, he would have to clean her wound. He could do that, he had stolen a First Aid kit from the Watcher before he moved out. You never know when you would need clean bandages, especially in his line of work.
"I'm gonna have to take off your shirt," he warned her. "Don't fight me, ok? You'll just make it worse."
She nodded and slowly lifted her arms. "Does it hurt when you do that?" He asked. She nodded again. "I'll fix you up," he promised. He hoped he wasn't lying to her.
He slowly removed her blood-stained shirt and winced at the injury. It was worse; the skin had turned a bright and angry red. He began to wipe the blood away, aware of every grimace and moan of pain. It was a long ordeal, but finally she was clear of blood. Due to slayer healing the wound had already began to close and the bleeding had slowed to a trickle.
"You still with me?"
"I am."
Spike studiously kept his eyes trained on the gash and the red skin, as opposed to the creamy, silky skin of her breasts. Breasts that had been pushed up against his chest, soft and giving. He shook his head. Now was not the time to fantasize about feeling up the Slayer.
Spike caught the Slayer's eyes and let his face change. There was a slight question in her eyes, but she didn't move them away as he cut his wrists with his fangs.
"You're not going to turn me into a vampire are you?" It was obvious the question cost her a lot of energy.
"Yeah, right, like I'd fancy spending eternity with you. This might sting a little." It stung a lot. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to writhe away from Spike, but she wanted to. The pain had been fairly centered before, but as Spike rubbed his blood into her quickly closing wound the pain spread through out her body. It felt like a million needles stinging her entire body, from the tips of her toes to her eyeballs.
"I know it hurts baby, just a little bit more," he whispered, trying to soothe her. "Just a little more."
"Spike, please."
With his free hand he gently caressed her face. "You'll be fine. Just a few more seconds. Then you can go to sleep."
She nodded and clenched her jaw and fists. She could do this, she had had worse. Just because she couldn't exactly remember it didn't mean this was the worst thing that ever happened.
Just when she thought she would lose consciousness, Spike pulled his wrist away. He quickly wrapped bandages around her body, making sure it was completely covered. "There you go."
"What did you do?" She asked.
"Vampire blood is a natural anti-venom. My blood coupled with your healing capabilities and you should be fine by tomorrow morning."
"Am I supposed to stay here?"
"Get some sleep for now. I'll take you home before sunrise."
Buffy was too tired to fight with him and before he had even finished his promise she had drifted off to sleep.
Spike sat there and watched her all night, not moving from his perch beside her. He kept an ear on her heartbeat, making sure it stayed strong and steady. As the night wore on, her breathing evened and the skin calmed to a shade of pink. As soon as she he felt like she was healthy enough to move, he lifted her and headed to her home.
"Are you taking me home?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah, pet, I am."
"I feel better."
"You are."
"I'm still tired."
His heart softened at the sound of her "little girl" voice. He never got a chance to see her really vulnerable, and now she was nestled in his arms, trustingly. How did Spike feel about that? He felt a surge of protectiveness. The Slayer did not need his protection, but it still felt nice to be needed, no matter how temporary.
"We're here, Slayer. Can you walk?"
"No."
"I think you're lying to me, Buffy."
"Carry me upstairs."
"You're awfully bossy." But even as he was talking, he was moving carefully up the stairs. His duster swirled around his legs, and the stairs creaked under their combined weight.
He laid her on the bed, then rummaged through her dresser looking for a T- shirt to cover her with. He found an old Sunnydale High t-shirt and her sushi pajamas. He pulled off her pants, half expecting to get kicked in the jaw for his efforts, but Buffy didn't protest. He wanted to caress her legs, skim his fingers down her sides and across her panties, but he figured it wasn't worth the definite dusty ending.
Instead he put her in her clean clothes and took a step back. "Goodnight Slayer."
"Night Spike." He turned to walk out the door when she called his name.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, Spike."
He smiled slightly, "Anytime."
"Spike?"
"Yes, Slayer?" She obviously had no intentions of letting him go.
"C'mere."
"Is something wrong, Pet? Are you still in pain?"
"No," she reached for him, and grasped his coat. She pulled him close and he didn't struggle. "Just wanted a goodnight kiss."
Before Spike could pull away in shock, she kissed him gently on his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah," he breathed, then escaped into the cool night, away from her flush skin and hot, inviting mouth.
