Chapter 20

Spike and Angel regarded each other over Buffy's still body silently. The only sound in the room was her steady breathing. Spike's body ached and throbbed, but he could already fill the skin begin to grow and cover his bare flesh. The Slayer bloody coursing through his veins aided the healing process.

He was alive. As alive as he'd ever been, that was. He could feel the soul struggle against the demon, pitifully, weakly. He could feel Buffy's heart thudding against his chest. He could feel her life in his body, her soft flesh, her smooth skin. With a shaking hand, he pushed some stray hair away from her forehead so he could see her face and wiped the blood from her cheek.

Spike caressed her face, his fingers roaming across her cheek and lips, and then down her neck. He rubbed her back and arms with the flat of his hands, making sure she was ok, unsure of where all the blood was coming from. When he was satisfied that she wasn't injured, that all the blood had come from him, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

Angel watched all of this without saying a word or making a move to stop Spike. He knew he would need to move Buffy off of Spike, find a bed for her, clean her up, and get a doctor to examine her, but something held him back from moving. Perhaps it was the clear wonder on Spike's face as he kissed her cheek. Perhaps it was the way he held her—like she was the most precious treasure in the world. Perhaps it was just simple shock that this crazy plan had actually worked.

Finally though, Angel moved to pull Buffy out of Spike's grasp.

"No," he protested, his grip tightening.

"I have to. She may need help."

"She's fine."

"Spike." Angel hoped he sounded more threatening than he felt. "Let her go."

Spike lifted her head from his chest and kissed her dry lips, then moved his arms away from her. Angel gently scooped her into his arms, and Spike struggled to sit up.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm getting up, aren't I?"

"You can't, you're still week."

" 'M fine."

"Spike, lay down."

"Funny, Peaches, I don't recall you being my keeper."

"She just needs to sleep, you don't need to come with us."

"I'm not letting her out of my sight," Spike declared, looking at Angel with defiant eyes. Angel sighed and contemplated knocking Spike out. Just whacking him on the head as hard as he could.

Instead, Angel decided to try to be reasonable and compromise. He knew Buffy would be pissed if she woke up only to find that Spike had driven him to violent and extreme measures. "Let me get her cleaned up and checked, and then we'll set up a bed in here."

"Is she ok? What's wrong wit her?"

"You fucking drained her," Angel snapped.

Spike's jaw clenched. "Fine, I'll stay here."

Angel observed the other vampire for another second before he left the room. Angel knew it was the same body as before, the same face—William's face—but Spike just looked different. And already his accent had changed. Angel unconsciously tightened his hold on the deceptively slight girl in his arms. Without another word, he left the room, Spike never moving his eyes from Angel's back until he was completely out of sight.

He already missed Buffy.

Spike had not expected any of this to happen. He didn't expect to wake up with the Slayer on top of him, and he didn't plan on sucking her dry. Had she really brought him back? She seemed so adamant that she would not sacrifice William for him…what had changed her mind? What had happened?

You there, mate?

Hurts.

I know.

There's no room.

Well, make room.

Had he really hurt her? He hadn't been thinking clearly—still wasn't thinking clearly really, and she just shoved her wrist in his face. The hot blood, pulsing so close to the surface of her skin made him heady with need. How could he have resisted that? And then the blood had exploded in mouth, gushed down his throat, filled and warmed his body until he felt like he was on fire, and he was so hard that he couldn't stand it. Besides, he had stopped, right? He had stopped before he took too much.

You hurt her.

Shut up, I never.

A fan turned on in the air vent, and Spike gagged as the smell of the drying blood—his drying blood—hit his nostrils. Jesus Christ, wasn't anybody going to come in and help him clean up at least? What the hell was going on here? It wasn't like these people had ever been scared of him…but then, maybe he shouldn't expect them to be that considerate.

Fortunately, his strength was increasing incrementally as the seconds ticked by. He could not stay in that room for much longer. He kicked the sides of the bed down, and swung his legs over the side. Good, half way there. He paused for a moment, gathering his strength, before slowly straightening his legs until his feet touched the floor. Bracing himself on the bed, he put all his weight on his legs and stood up.

Spike swayed by the bed for several seconds, fighting the battle to stay upright. He could feel the remnants of the magic that sucked him back to Earth out of limbo, and it made his skin crawl and left a bad taste in his mouth. He hated magic, had always been sensitive to it, and now it was almost painful.

Slowly, he made his way across the room. He just took it one step at a time, and he was very careful to avoid slipping on the blood on the floor. What the hell had happened? Who bled him? Buffy wasn't injured and neither was Angel—was there another person in the room who got hurt? There was just no way this much blood could come from him.

He reached the door quicker than he thought he would, and he opened it proudly, relieved. Once in the hallway, things were much more sterile. He could easily pick on Buffy and Angel's smell and follow it like a sign down the hallway. He only had to walk a short distance before he found the room. He opened the door without knocking.

They were all huddled around a hospital bed, identical to his, but this one was clean. Buffy had been scrubbed until her skin was pink, and she looked to be sleeping peacefully. He strained until he heard her heartbeat and assured himself that it was normal and healthy. Angel noticed him first.

"Spike, what are you doing out of bed?"

"It stinks in there."

"I'm sorry it offended your delicate sensibilities, Spike, but you need to rest and heal."

"Since when you do care about my well-being?"

Giles cut in then. "Spike, it is imperative that you let yourself heal."

Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What is this?"

Giles put a friendly hand on his shoulder, and Spike jerked back so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. Silently, Willow pulled a chair over to Buffy's bedside while Spike glared at the men in the room.

"Spike, why don't you have a seat," she invited.

Purposely, Spike crossed the room to the chair and collapsed onto it with an audible sigh of relief. Angel and Giles glanced at each other uneasily, unsure of what they should do next.

As soon as Spike was close enough to touch Buffy, he ignored everybody else. Let them hover, he didn't care. He didn't know what they were on about, or why they were acting so strangely, but that was hardly any concern of his. His only concern was Buffy. He just wanted to look at her—it had been an eternity since he last saw her. She hadn't changed much. She looked a little older, and he noted with satisfaction that she had gained a little weight, but she was still the same Buffy. Still beautiful. Still glowing with an inner-strength that blinded him.

Spike lifted her hand from the bed and cupped it in his own. He simply held it and gazed at her as everybody else looked on. Her wrist was bandaged, a stark reminder of what he had done. He waited for Angel or Giles to get on his case about it, but they remained silent. Willow must have seen something of his horror and grief over what he had done on his face, because she touched his back gently.

"She's fine. She's just resting. She hasn't slept in a long time."

"Did she lose too much blood?"

Willow shook her head. "No, she didn't even need a transfusion. She'll be fine. You can go back to bed if you want."

"No."

"I think it might be a good idea if…"

"No."

"Ok, ok, Spike, you don't have to. It's cool." She stepped back from him and beckoned to Giles and Angel, indicating that they should leave. All three of them shuffled to the door, loath to leave Buffy alone, but knowing that it would be for the best. The last thing they needed was Spike to overly angry or agitated.

As soon as the door closed, Spike leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. "Don't know what's going on here, Slayer. Don't know why you brought me back, or why your group isn't trying to kill me again. But I'm glad I'm here, Buffy. I missed you. Heaven just isn't right without you there, you know?"

Spike kissed her cheek and rested his head on the pillow besides her. She didn't move. He remained content to watch her sleep and to count her breaths. His breathing matched hers, and he was so close to her that they were sharing air. Soon, he fell asleep.

~*~

Buffy felt like she was floating. Lethargic, calm, sedate. Honey and chocolate surrounded her, and she felt like she was suffused in the sweet liquid, felt it seeping into her body, felt like she couldn't move even if she wanted to.

From a great distance, she heard his voice rumbling like a distant, summer thunder on a long hot night. It was comforting, not alarming, and she let it roll over and pass her. She couldn't make out the words, but that didn't matter. She just needed to hear his voice.

She felt him touch her. It felt like sunlight breaking through a winter storm, just long enough to warm the chilled skin, thaw the frozen hair and lips. She gravitated towards it naturally, thrilled that the heat could reach her through the sweet thickness. It felt good, and she longed to feel it everywhere. She wanted the fire to spread through her, and she moaned for more.

It was dark so she couldn't see him, but he knew he was there. Knew exactly where he was. With a great effort, she forced her arm to move so she could reach for him. She grabbed him, grasped him, desperately, and curled her hand around his arm. He bent over her, like a prince in a fairy tale, and kissed her until she was awake.

Buffy opened her eyes and looked right into Spike's. He was staring at her intently, as though he was afraid she would never wake up again. He blinked when she opened her eyes, and then smiled. She smiled in return.

"You're awake."

"So are you."

"What are you doing out of bed?"

"I couldn't stay away from you. You passed out, I was scared that I had hurt you."

She shook her head. "You didn't hurt me."

"How are you feeling now?"

"I feel great."

She looped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer until their lips touched. She sighed into his mouth, closed her eyes, and let his lips take her back to the place of chocolate and honey.