Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Chapter 5

Spike was glaring at the shut door, which had just be slammed shut by Angel.

'God, why does he always have to be such a drama queen? Good job you stepped in, Willow, or he might've got hurt. I just can't stomach any more of his holier than thou crap.'

'And we don't need any more of your jealous vampire crap!'

Spike felt like someone had put a red-hot knife in his gut and twisted it. The look of agony that passed fleetingly over his face made Willow pause and ask, 'Spike, what is it? What's wrong?'

'Nothing, it's nothing...' As she continued to look at him in such sweet concern, he felt he had to explain.

'Look, it's just that Buffy once said almost the exact same thing to me. And ...' And it reminded him of one of those precious (more precious than anything else in his life, before and since) nights when the Slayer had spent the night with him. Not for sex, but for comfort and affection. Where she had chosen to be with him rather than anyone else. Those hours with her were the sweetest and the most painful memories he had.

'I'm sorry. I know how hard the last few months, maybe years, have been, and I know you truly do love Buffy. So you have to help her, you have to. We're counting on you.'

'Ok. I still think it's pointless, Red, but what harm can it do to try?'

There was a pause and a rather guilty look appeared on Willow's face.

'Actually, there's some debate about that. That's why I wanted to talk to you alone.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'Um, well, you know we have limited sources of information after the havoc caused by the Bringers and Caleb. There aren't many ancient texts left, so finding things out isn't that easy. But Giles' contact managed to find part of a book that mentions this curse. The problem is, well, the last few pages were missing. We didn't get hold of a more complete text until a couple of days ago, and even then the translation is a little woolly. All we have is a Medieval English version of the original German, which was probably a translation of something else.'

'Woolly?'

'As in the opposite of crystal clear, easy-peasy to understand, can't screw up the ritual 'cos the meaning is so obvious...that kind of woolly.'

'Willow, could you PLEASE get to the point?'

'The thing is ... there is a possibility there's some risk involved in the ritual, both to the one doing the waking up and, and, um, to the one sleeping.'

'Willow, you've already tried the ritual once. Are you saying that it might've hurt Buffy?'

'Possibly, but there wasn't much danger. I mean, Buffy and Angel did love each other. The text seems to be saying that if there isn't love on both sides, then the two involved will sleep for 100 years.'

'Does Angel know about this?'

'No, we hadn't heard about this version of the story when he tried to wake her up. Only Giles, Dawn and I know about it. I didn't tell Xander because he's not exactly your number one fan and he'd just make a big deal about it. And that goes double for Angel.'

'Oh, really, you think? I cannot believe that Giles would agree to this. I'm not on his Christmas card list either, am I, love? There's a VERY tiny possibility that the Slayer returns my feelings, but you're all willing to take a chance on that, which could result in Buffy turning into the next Rip Van Winkle. Great plan, Willow, but bollocks to it!'

'Please listen to me. She's been asleep for weeks. I've tried every spell I and the most powerful witches I know have been able to come up with. We're desperate!'

'Why not take more time, carry on with the research, find ANOTHER WAY?'

'Look, I'm all about the research, as you know. Nothing Dawnie and I love more than reading through hundreds of pages of illegible ancient handwriting, in languages no one has spoken in a few centuries. But we're at the end of the road. Who knows what damage this evil sleep's causing Buffy? And, honestly, I'm a pretty good witch and I don't think there's another way. And Giles and Dawn agree with me. We've talked it over endlessly and we think our only option is for you to try.'

'Willow, I beg of you, don't ask me to do this. I cannot be responsible for hurting Buffy again. I mean, forget what could happen to me. I'm not sure some curse designed for mortals would even affect a vampire. But I can't be part of anything that could make things worse for her, I just can't.'

Spike walked up to Willow and looked down, straight into her eyes. The pain she saw in those bluer than blue eyes made her wince. Trying to lighten the mood, she said, 'You know, worst case scenario, she sleeps for a century and when she wakes up, you're there for her and all those people who don't like you are dead and gone. So you'd finally end up together!'

Spike smiled, though it did not quite reach his eyes. 'Yeah, well, Captain Forehead might have something to say about that. God, that's a depressing thought. He and I are the only two of this little group who might still be around in a hundred years. Immortality's really not all it's cracked up to be.'

He walked to the wall, leant against it and slid down to the floor. He looked so despairing that Willow's heart went out to him. She went to sit next to him and put her hand on his leather-clad arm. She realised that he had not even glanced in the direction of the bed once.

'Spike. Why can't you believe that Buffy could love you? She told you so and Buffy's known for her straight talking, no BS approach to life. She's not usually one to sugar-coat things.'

He leant his head against the wall, closed his eyes and said, so quietly that she could hardly hear him, 'I'd give anything to be able to believe that, but, remember, she had no problem telling one vampire with a soul that she loved him and letting everyone else know. Even though Angelus was every bit as evil as William the Bloody. But me, no, she had to hide our relationship from everyone. We were so close those last few weeks, but she just couldn't say it, not until she thought I was toast. So I have a hard time believing those three little words she said to me were anything other than a last ditch attempt at kindness before good old Spike went to meet his maker.'

Willow sighed, stood up and went to the door. 'I need a drink and I'd better ask about where I can get some blood for you and Angel. You must be hungry. We're in a hospital, so it shouldn't be too hard, right?' With that, she walked out of the door, pausing to look back as Spike finally walked up to the bed, his shoulders set in a defeated line that Willow had never seen in him before. She saw him catch sight of Buffy for the first time. She felt like a voyeur when she saw the raw emotion on his face, so she hurried out of the room.

Spike looked down at Buffy's face - peaceful in a death-like sleep, the whiteness of her face an echo of that other time when she lay lifeless on the ground. That time when his dead heart cracked into a million pieces with a pain that made the many torments he had faced in his over-long life seem like mosquito bites in comparison. That time when he knew she was not in the world anymore; well, that was something his brain still shied away from, as well as the idea that it could be happening again. Because if he couldn't bear it then, when he was soulless, how much worse would it feel now, with that little spark in him?

He paced round the room, fists clenching and unclenching. Should he try to wake her up? The Scoobies had brought her back once before, an act of love, done with the best of intentions. But they had ripped Buffy from Heaven, not Hell; torn her away from the only peace she had known for years. Was he about to do the same? Where was she now, in her supernatural sleep world? He didn't want to be responsible for putting that look back on her face, that 'I think I was in heaven' look. Yet, if she was in Hell, then he had to rescue her, not fail her again.

Spike groaned aloud. He stopped his restless wandering around the white, sterile room and sat by Buffy's side. Tentatively, afraid that he did not have the right, afraid to overstep the mark in any way, he touched her hand. Tiny, fragile, yet capable of giving death and pleasure equally. And now it was powerless. He couldn't help it; a tear rolled down his cheek, his skin no whiter or colder than hers now. I wish that hand could smack me in the nose, just one more time.

Unable to resist, he lifted her hand and held it between both of his. A shudder went through his body as he lowered his head and let his lips gently touch her icy skin. He rested his forehead on her hand, unaware that he was muttering under his breath. 'Buffy, Buffy.'

His head snapped upright. He could have sworn he had heard a tiny, tiny sigh. He looked around but they were still alone. Turning back, he gazed intently at Buffy's marble white face and ruby lips...no, wait a moment. Her mouth was no longer that vicious, glossy blood red colour. A tinge of pink now tempered the scarlet. Her lips were now more like coral or..., God knows what colour you'd call them, but they had definitely changed.

Spike leapt up, the chair falling over in his haste, shouting at the top of his voice. 'Willow! Willow! Get in here NOW!' The door was flung against the wall as the red-headed witch came running in, with Giles not far behind. Despite what they had said, they had both been waiting outside the room, unable to go too far from Buffy's side.

'What's.., what's wrong? She's not ...?' Willow couldn't finish the sentence as she rushed to Buffy's bedside, pushing Spike out of the way. Giles, his face set rigid with a terrible fear, stood at the end of the bed, unable to say anything.

'Look at her mouth! Her lips have changed colour! And I swear that I heard her sigh!' Willow frowned and, speaking quite sternly for her, soft-hearted as she was, she said, 'Spike! You scared me half to death. I thought she'd ...'

Giles interrupted her, a mixture of relief and doubt clear in his voice. 'No, Willow, Spike was right to call us, though he could, perhaps, have done it in a slightly less dramatic way. Any change is significant. She's been laying there, exactly the same, for weeks. So this must mean something.'

He went to the other side of the bed, taking his glasses off and peering closely at Buffy's face. 'Look, her lips are pinker and there's more colour in her cheeks.'

Spike, standing off to the side, not looking away from the Slayer for even a second, muttered, 'Exactly. Of course it's bloody significant. But is it good significant or bad significant?' Restless as ever, he resumed his pacing around the room, but his eyes kept coming back to the slight form under the white sheets.

As Willow looked down at her friend's face, her head outlined by her bright blonde hair, she saw that it was true. Buffy's milk white skin now had the lightest tinge of pink, so faint that it was barely there. But it was there. And her lips were a more natural colour. 'What did you do, Spike?' she asked, half accusingly, half in wonder.

The vampire's face looked almost comically annoyed. 'Me! I didn't sodding do anything! Typical, blame Spike first chance you get! I was just sitting by her side, that's all. I wouldn't do anything to Buffy! When are you all going to get that into your thick...'

'Spike,' Giles interrupted him wearily, 'no one is accusing you of anything. But something has happened to cause this change. She actually looks better so it could be a positive thing. But we have to know exactly what you said or did before she changed colour.'

Willow knew that belligerent look on Spike's face of old. He was hiding something he was ashamed or embarrassed about. She went up to where he was leaning against the wall and looked up into his frowning face. 'Spike, I know you wouldn't hurt Buffy. But whatever you did seems to have helped her. So please tell us what happened and don't miss anything out.'

Spike sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. He walked over to the window and looked out over the city, which was lit up with countless twinkling lights. The reflection made his white skin glow with an unearthly light and Willow's heart went out to him as he stood there; beautiful, tragic, the agony of his inability to help Buffy clearly etched on his face.

'Look, Willow, I don't think this can be anything to do with me. Maybe the spell is breaking and she's going to wake up.'

Spike ... what... did... you... do?' Willow spoke kindly, patiently, her hand on his arm. 'Tell us, step by step, what happened.'

He looked round at Giles who had a strange, unreadable expression on his face, as if he had suddenly realised something profound. 'Spike, I accept that you would give your life for Buffy. I accept that you're a changed man, as Buffy has always said. I accept that you have a soul, a real soul. That makes you one of us, much as it pains me to say it. So we have to work together to get her back... again. I'm going to get a cup of tea, if that godforsaken cafeteria can produce such a thing. Tell Willow what you did. Please.'

With that, Giles walked out in a very dignified way, his shoulders pulled back as if he had just faced an unpleasant task, but had managed to do it.

For a moment, Spike and Willow stared at his back, mouths open in surprise. 'Blimey, it must've killed him to say all that to William the Bloody, his least favourite person on the planet.' A trace of the old Spike could be seen in the wicked grin that he flashed Willow.

The witch took him by the hand and led him to the saggy grey couch. Sitting down, she pulled him into the place beside her and then turned to face him. 'So, step by step...' She patted his hand encouragingly. He looked down at her hand and laid his on top. Then he told her, hesitating at certain embarrassing parts, like the crying, his gaze firmly fixed on their hands. When he had finished, he lifted his face to look at her, and he saw tears shining in her eyes.

'Oh, Spike, Spike!' And she flung her arms around him, hugging him like her life depended on it. Just for a second, he hugged her back, touched and a little surprised; then he pulled back and put his arms on hers so that they were face to face. 'Willow, this is all very sweet and all that, but I did nothing special!'

'You really don't get it, do you? You have to do the ritual, this proves it!'

'Not following you, love.'

'God, you can be so dense at times. I need to get Giles.'

And with that she practically skipped out of the room, leaving a bemused Spike to gaze after her in confusion.