Buffy paced the living room floor in front of Willow who sat on the couch reading a magazine.

Buff, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor. I'm sure everything's ok. Giles will take care of everything Willow turned the page in her reading material, but watched her friend.

I know he will. He's not the one I'm worried about. Buffy frowned.

***

OW! Bloody hell! Spike gritted his teeth and fought the nearly unconquerable urge to swat the nurse up side her head with her tool tray', as she had called it.

I-I'm sorry! Please, sir, you must be still! The nurse, her name tag said Sarah, was dabbing the large gash in Spike's head with a cotton ball doused in iodine.

But it bloody hurts, you incorrigible twit! Spike frowned as Giles moved the tool tray' away from him, apparently aware of Spike's uncontrollable urges.

Oh suck it up, you ninny! Giles huffed as he polished his glasses for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.

Spike opened his mouth to utter a retort but closed it after seeing the grim look on the watcher's face. Nurse Sarah dabbed at the wound again and Spike forced himself to keep the pain to himself, although his grip on the side of the emergency room bed certainly told the story of his pain loudly.

I'm almost done. Sarah smiled comfortingly then frowned as Spike glared at her. She opened a large bandage and applied it to Spike's head as quickly as she could, all the while ready to snap back if he should strike out at her.

Earlier she had wrapped his chest in a white tape, explaining she was taping' his ribs in an effort to keep them fairly straight while healing. The procedure knocked the breath out of him and caused him to wince more than once. The gaping wound in his arm had required stitches and Spike nearly fainted as a doctor had come in and explained the process to him. In fact, he would have bolted right then and there if it hadn't been for Giles who stood over him with an increasingly commanding look.

All in all it was a horrible experience, one that neither man was willing to go through again anytime in the very near future. The doctor returned to check on her patient before letting him ago. While Spike was carefully pulling on his shirt, a different nurse came in carrying a clipboard.

Excuse me, Mr. Giles, there are some forms here for you to sign if you wish to make your nephew a permanent dependent on your medical plan. You are lucky to have a very good plan that covers your entire family. The nurse smiled prettily.

Thank you, but that is not necessary. He is only visiting for a short while and I do not believe something to this severity will occur again during his stay. Giles cleared his throat and flashed another warning look in Spike's direction.

Spike dropped his eyes to his hands as he attempted to button up his shirt. However, the large gash in his arm did not allow his hand to cooperate and he dropped it to his side with a heaving sigh of frustration that sounded more like a growl. The nurse placed her clipboard on the bed and, smiling sweetly, began to gently fasten his shirt for him. He grinned gratefully and lifted his good arm to run his fingers through his hair.

I'm sure the police will find the culprit who did this to you. The nurse finished up with Spike's buttons and picked up her clipboard.

I'm sorry? Giles asked.

You did report this to the police, yes? The nurse asked quizzically.

Oh yes! Yes of course. I have complete faith in them. Giles pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his forehead.

The nurse smiled one last time, Well good luck to you both. It was nice meeting you Mr. Spike. Then she was gone.

You didn't really call the police, did you? Spike asked with a worried look on his face.

Of course I didn't call the police, you twit. Giles shoved his handkerchief back in to his pocket and reached for his jacket which was lying on the bed.

Spike tried not to look at the watcher as he too pulled on his duster. Every movement caused a barrage of pain to erupt inside his wounds.

Giles watched the ex-vampire pull on his duster with a silent whimper and suddenly felt bad for him. The watcher helped the young man and smiled apologetically.

Let's go home, shall we? I'm sure Buffy is out of her mind with worry by now. Giles pulled the curtain aside and exited the room followed by a battered, yet bandaged, Spike.

***

When Giles let himself through the front door, Buffy was right there with worried, tired eyes. I-is he ok?

Giles smiled his fatherly smile and nodded. He's fine. He's to get plenty of rest and stay off his feet for at least seventy-two hours.

Spike slowly entered behind Giles. Buffy frowned at her poor man, so broken and bruised. He looked very tired. Buffy walked over and helped Spike remove his duster. Then, the two began to make their slow trek to the staircase and up to the bedroom.

Buffy smiled at Giles. Thank you, she said as she helped Spike passed the watcher and up the stairs.

Only too glad to help, Giles replied as he removed his glasses for yet another rubbing. He had done his duty for the evening and he needed a drink.

Buffy heard the front door close as she reached the top of the stairs. Giles had gone. For an instant she felt alone, but it was only an instant--a flicker.

I'm sorry, Spike spoke in a short breath.

Buffy shook herself out of thought and questioned him. For what?
Spiked was leaning on the slayer and had been short of breath since they had climbed the stairs. Buffy held him close to her and kept him on his feet. The bedroom was only a few feet away, but she knew it was farther for Spike.

For this. Spike swallowed and took a breath before continuing. You shouldn't have to take care of me like this. Especially all the time.

Is this a male ego thing? Or are you worried I won't be able to juggle you and slayage at the same time? Buffy asked somewhat sarcastically.

A bit of both actually. Spike smiled slightly.

The two finally made their way into Buffy's room. Slowly the slayer set Spike on her bed and walked back to shut the door. Spike sat out of breath on the edge of the bed. Buffy frowned.

Spike, I love you. I want to take care of you. Buffy's words were soft, quiet. I can handle taking care of you and being a slayer all at the same time. I've taken care of my friends while being a slayer--it's my job. I can do this too.

Spike looked up at his lovely girlfriend and stared deep into her eyes. I want to take care of you too. That's the only reason I'm here, Buffy. But that doesn't include me being the one in need of medical attention every time I get into a fight. I'm supposed to be there right besides you, looking out for you, watching your back. Spike winced as a pain rushed through his lungs. Not hiding behind some statue while you war around with the nasties.

Buffy swallowed a tear and walked over to the bed. Gently she raised his face to her own and kissed his lips tenderly. I'm a slayer. In that I will always be alone. But there are other parts to me that need to be taken care of. Buffy smiled and began to unfasten the buttons on her shirt. That's where I need you, Spike. The shirt fell to the floor.

Spike could do nothing but stare at the most beautiful woman he had ever known, standing in front of him, begging to be taken care of in a way only he could. He grinned.

Buffy kissed him again and began to unzip her pants. Spike closed his eyes as her soft lips brushed his again. Slowly he moved his hand over her head and down her neck. Buffy shivered as a tingle of pleasure sped down her spine. The pants fell to the floor.

Take care of me, Spike, Buffy whispered as her hands felt their way, ever so carefully, over Spike's chest. Her hands moved down to the bottom of the shirt and she began to pull it, just as carefully, over his head. For an instant they were separated from each other, but as soon as the shirt was over Spike's head, the two were reunited in passion. Pain was forgotten as the second shirt fell to the floor.

The two fell onto the bed softly, locked in another passionate kiss. Buffy began to work at getting Spike's pants free and he worked at removing her bra. Heat filled the room as the two worked together--helped one another. Spike's hands, finally finished with the bra, worked their way up and down Buffy's body as she finally won with his pants. Before the pants hit the floor, the slayer was already being cared for.