A/N:

Disclaimer: Not my characters, except for one.

- I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it. I would love any feedback you could give me!

Chapter 7

Spike walked up to the bed and stood looking down at the motionless figure barely breathing under the sheet. Willow came to stand beside him. 'Are you ready to do this? Angel says he'll make sure that we're not interrupted again. I think it's time, don't you? We need her back.'

'I know, I know, Red. I promise, no more messing around. As long as that idiot keeps out of here. I won't be so restrained next time if I see that smarmy git in here again.'

'Spike, um, could we focus here?'

'Right, right. I'm sorry. It's been a long night and I'm knackered. Don't know what I'm saying here.'

Willow squeezed his hand and retreated to the side of the room.

He took out the paper and quietly read those ancient phrases that had proved so hard before. This time he did not falter. After reading them seven times (Willow had no clue what the correct number should be, so why not that old magical standby?), he leaned down, brushed a strand of golden hair off Buffy's face and kissed her lightly on her lips. Then he rested his forehead lightly on hers, whispering so quietly that Willow could not hear what he was saying, 'Buffy, come back to us. You know I love you. We all love you. Come back to us.'

He straightened up, his face a mask. Willow came back to his side and wordlessly took his hand. He wasn't exactly the touchy-feely type, but it felt comforting to have that contact as they stood looking down at Buffy.

A very long few minutes passed. Nothing happened. Spike let go of Willow's hand abruptly and wheeled around, stalking over to one of the plastic chairs, which he kicked over. 'I told you! I told you! What a bloody waste of time! God, what an idiot I was to think that Buffy and I were soul mates. I always knew I wasn't cut out for the Romeo role, pet!'

'We have to give it time. She's been asleep for several weeks. Maybe we shouldn't expect it to be all "poof" and then "Hey, guys, I'm baaaaack"'.

So they waited, and waited, ... and waited. Spike's face became as frozen as a block of ice. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but still Willow's heart broke for him. For all of them. What were they going to do now?

The door opened and Giles appeared. 'What's happening? Any change?' They had come back to the room, unable to stay far away. Just in case.

'Nothing! Not a damned thing! When her lips changed before, that must've been a coincidence. Nothing to do with me! Why the hell I let you talk me into this, I don't know. I must be getting soft in the head. And now what, she sleeps for a hundred years? That's sodding great! Look what Spike did to Buffy now! I wouldn't blame the Bit if she staked me herself!'

He tried to hide his humiliation and disappointment in a show of fury. His ranting was loud enough to penetrate into the outside corridor and bring them in, Dawn in the forefront, the rest of them crowded at the back. 'What happened? Is she awake?'

'Of course she bloody well isn't awake, Bit! I can't believe I let myself get involved with this crap! Well, you've had your fun but find some other twit to...'

'SHUT UP!' No one expected such a loud voice to come from gentle Willow. 'Look at Buffy! Look!'

As if on strings, the heads of all those present swivelled towards the bed.

And there she was, barely visible in the dim light, but still unmistakable.

Buffy was moving.

They all rushed towards the bed and stood around it. Except for Spike who stayed just where he was, frozen to the spot.

Buffy was squirming a little under the sheet, her head tossing from side to side, an unintelligible murmuring coming from her partially opened mouth. It was as if she were having a nightmare. Dawn bent down, as if trying to hear what her sister was saying. Buffy started to get more agitated, lifting her arms up and shifting her body as if in discomfort. Giles on one side of the bed and Willow on the other held her wrists gently, to stop her pulling out the tubes.

Then, as if a light had been switched on, Buffy's eyes opened. It took her a while to focus but then she looked straight up into Dawn's eyes. 'Dawnie, I just had the weirdest dream.' Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.

Her pupils widened as she took in the group around the bed. 'Okaaaaay. Must still be dreaming.' She struggled to sit up but the effort was too much. 'What's wrong with me?' Dawn! What's wrong with me?'

Giles had sent everyone home except Willow, saying that Buffy needed her sleep. Spike was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared the moment Buffy had woken up. By tacit consent no one had mentioned him to Buffy. That was a whole other conversation and they did not think she was up to that yet. The doctors had come and examined Buffy. Then gone away scratching their heads in wonder at her sudden recovery.

Giles and Willow had tried to get Buffy to rest, but, with her usual stubbornness (and wasn't it just the best feeling, Giles thought, to be pointlessly trying once more to convince the Slayer to do something she was determined not to do) she had refused. 'I need to know what's going on. Why am I in hospital? What's with the Scooby reunion tour? Why on earth is Angel here?'

So they had sat with her through the rest of that long night and told her some of what they knew, carefully avoiding any mention of the way she had been awakened. She remembered eating the apple and nothing after that. Her story of meeting the old lady and the demon tied in with what they knew and seemed to confirm that they were dealing with Myrsina.

As dawn was breaking, Giles again suggested that Buffy tried to get some sleep. 'Nice try, Giles, but your story's all holey. You haven't said why Angel's here or how I woke up again. What was the cure? Why do I still feel like I just went ten rounds with a M'Fashnik demon? What aren't you telling me? Isn't a watcher supposed to be all about truth?'

Willow looked at Giles and then put her hand over Buffy's. 'You're right, Buff, there're a few more things to tell you. But we're tired, you're tired. Can't we all just get some rest and we'll continue tomorrow?'

Buffy, her face still pale and exhausted looking, smiled at her best friend. 'Point taken. I'm pretty sure I need a few years' beauty sleep after lying here for weeks. But tomorrow I want the full skinny, ok? No more angsty looks between the two of you. I want to know...' Her voice trailed off as sleep overcame her.

Outside the room they found Xander. 'I thought you both needed sleep. I'll stay here and keep an eye on her.'

Giles gave him a smile of approval. 'Thank you, Xander. That was very thoughtful of you.'

'Xan, please don't say anything to her about Spike if she wakes up,' said Willow beseechingly.

'Oh, yeah. I really wanna have that conversation with Buffy. "Hey, Buff. Looks like Willy Wannabite is your one and done after all. Do tell me where you're gonna register for the big day." Don't worry; these lips are definitely sealed on that particular topic.'

As they walked out of the hospital, the beauty of Rome, in the light of a brilliant orange and pink sunrise, the rich colours reflecting off the ancient honey and white coloured buildings, completely failed to move them. They were intent on their conversation as they made their way back to the apartment.

'Giles...' Willow's voice was hesitant. 'Er. How do you think Buffy was looking?'

'Well, rather how I'd expect after a long, supernatural coma. I certainly didn't think she'd wake up, and somersault out of the bed, ready to go patrolling, did you?'

'Noooooo. But she seems so weak. Weaker than I thought she would. I mean, it's Buffy, Amazonian Slayer Queen. She's not like the rest of us. She's got super healing powers but now she's as fragile as a kitten. And her face is still so pale. It's not normal.'

'Willow, she has only just woken up. And she wasn't suffering from something normal. We have to give her time.'

'And how're we going to tell her about Spike? Is she ready for that? I'm not sure I'M ready for that conversation.'

'Perhaps we should wait until he returns and he can tell her himself.'

'Maybe he won't come back. I mean, she's awake, he did it. Perhaps he can't face her.'

'This is Spike we're talking about. Do you really think he's going to miss the opportunity to gloat about the fact there seems to be magical proof that Buffy really does care about him? Especially to Angel.'

'That's a little unfair, Giles. This has to be HUGE for him. He's loved her for so long and now it looks like she loves him back. That's going to be hard for him to deal with.'

'Yes, well, this is not an episode of some dreadful soap opera. He will just have to 'deal' with it and find 'closure.' Isn't that the word you Americans use? We have more important things to worry about.'

When they reached the apartment, the others were still asleep camped out around the small living room or in the small bedroom. No one had wanted to use Buffy's bed, even though space was at a premium. There was no sign of Angel or Spike. The Watcher and the Witch went to bed, tired to their very bones after the events of the night. But sleep was a long time coming for both of them.

Despite his reassuring words, Giles could not suppress a twinge of doubt. He had not thought that would Buffy spring out of bed, looking her usual Californian golden girl self. However, she seemed so frail. Perhaps their expectations had been too high, or they were too used to her taking a beating, with seemingly few ill effects. This girl had survived dying, twice, so surely one little curse would be nothing? Giles tossed and turned on the sofa in Buffy's apartment, until the sheer stress and drama of the last few days proved too much, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Back at the hospital, Xander wandered down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. He had been sitting on one of the chairs in Buffy's room until he started thinking that, being alone in her room, watching her sleep, was a little bit creepy and stalkerish. The problem was that he had been unable to take his eyes off her. That lovely face, bright hair framing it, the delicate shape of her body under the sheet. They had been the stuff of his fantasies for a long time and a part of him would always be reserved for the Slayer. He had never completely got over his first crush on her, even after everything that had happened with Anya.

As he had stood there, looking down at her, seeing that, at last, she was a more natural colour and that her breathing seemed normal, he had felt disgusted at himself for his thoughts of the night before. How could he have wanted, even for a second, for the ritual not to work? They had got Buffy back and wasn't that more important than anything else? And if Buffy and the vampire were going to be together, then it was not like they were in Sunnydale and he would have to watch the revolting spectacle of the two of them as a couple. Their lives were separate now and they rarely met.

And that would be the way he would deal with it. Distance. A great distance. And maybe he should think about dating again. It had been long enough. Anya would want him to be happy. Harbouring these feelings, these ancient, should have been mercifully killed long ago, feelings for Buffy, was probably just his way of delaying getting back into the game of real life.

After an indifferent breakfast, the usual institutionalised pap, Xander decided to go back upstairs with a large cup of coffee to help him stay awake. He would sit outside in the corridor until one of the gang arrived to relieve him. As he got closer, he saw a glow of green light coming from under Buffy's door. He was surprised as there was now enough daylight to see by. There had only been a soft nightlight on in the room when he had left it. He pushed open the door.

Inside, there was a tall figure dressed in a nurse's uniform, bending over the sleeping Buffy.

'Hi, er, ciao, or something.'

At the sound of Xander's voice, the woman turned. Xander gulped. Good Lord. The last time he'd been in hospital, the nurses had not looked like that! He might only have one eye, but that was enough to see that she was absolutely stunning. She looked to be about his height, with va-va-voom curves covered in the crisp white cotton of the uniform, tightly belted in the middle, like something out of a fantasy.

He managed to drag his eye away from her body and then he gulped again. Her face was flawless; so perfect, in fact, that the thought crossed his mind that she must have a damn good plastic surgeon, because she did not seem young, despite the completely smooth skin. Her features were like those on the statue of a Greek goddess. Her hair was thick, black and glossy, coiled like a snake around her shapely head. Her eyes. Xander found himself mesmerised by those large, hooded orbs, green as poison, framed by coal black, spidery lashes. She was a walking, talking, fresh out of an x-rated movie, living, breathing cliché. One that was having a predictable effect on him. His head felt light from the blood falling over itself to rush southwards. Just because something is obvious, that doesn't mean it won't work.

The woman gave him a sultry smile, showing milk white teeth between full, glistening lips, which were covered in bright red lipstick. 'Can I help you?' She spoke excellent English with a slight hint of some kind of European accent. Her voice was husky, melodious and sent chills down his spine.

It took a couple of seconds before he could get his vocal chords to work. 'I'm her friend. I mean, I'm a friend of the patient. We want to make sure that someone's here when she wakes up.'

'Well, that is charming, I'm sure. How lovely for her to have such loyal friends. But, my dear, I must ask you to wait outside for a little while. I need to run some checks on the dear young lady.'

And she walked towards Xander, put her scarlet-tipped hand on his arm and guided him back through the door into the corridor. He did not, could not resist. He could smell her perfume, an oversweet and heady mix of roses and something else, slightly musky, that he couldn't place. His senses swam with her close proximity, with the sight of the shadowed valley he could see between her milk white breasts tantalisingly revealed in her low cut dress.

He stood facing her, his mouth hanging slightly open, as she softly closed the door. He shook his head as if to clear it, let out a breath and turned back towards the chairs. He stopped suddenly, as a thousand thoughts crowded into his head at once. Later, he was to thank the powers that be for whatever instincts had kicked in at that moment.

Where had that green light come from, as there had still only been the nightlight in the room? Why were they running checks on Buffy that early in the morning? Where was the doctor? Since when did real nurses wear nail varnish? Or slutty dresses? Or look like a Playboy centrefold, except in movies? There was definitely something weird about that nurse. She was a gorgeous woman who had been nice to him... Oh God!

He burst through the door. The 'nurse' was standing over Buffy. In her elegant, long-fingered hand was an evil looking dagger, the thin, glittering blade poised over the Slayer's heart. She was muttering something in an incomprehensible language.

Xander's own heart stopped. He did not think, just reacted. He was still holding the cup of coffee in its paper cup. He threw it at her, not thinking he would hit her as the lack of one eye had ruined his aim. By a miracle it hit her in the back, the dark coffee staining the immaculate white uniform. It was not enough to hurt her, but she did give a shriek of surprise and half-turned. Her face was contorted with anger, no longer beautiful.

'Vile creature! How dare you disturb me! Me!' And she twisted fully, raised her hands, with the knife still grasped in one, and pointed her long, blood red talons at him. She seemed to be about to cast a spell, opening her mouth, her long red tongue darting out.

Xander picked up a chair and rushed towards her. Behind her, he could see Buffy struggling to sit up, but unable to do so. He rammed the woman with the chair just before she could get a word out, causing the dagger to fall from her grasp. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the bed. They grappled together near the window, with her squirming in his grasp and hissing. She was incredibly strong and he knew he would not be able to hold her long. Her face turned towards him and he recoiled. Her eyes were a solid, vicious green, glittering like a beetle's wing. Her pointed tongue snaked out and she bared her teeth, continuing to hiss at him.

One hand shot out like a striking snake and seized him by the throat. He felt her razor sharp nails digging into his skin and the pressure on his windpipe increased. No matter how he struggled he could not escape. He kept one hand holding her arm and used the other one to try to pull the hand off his throat. He could hear Buffy's hoarse, weak voice saying, 'Xander, Xander!' Black and red lights swam before his eye and he knew he was about to pass out.

Then he heard a clang and that terrible pressure was gone. He slid down the wall and forced his eye open. When he could focus, he saw Buffy, holding on to the wall next to him, a metal bed pan in her hand. The woman, if that was what she was, was slumped on the floor, unconscious.

He struggled to stand up and it was lucky that he did so, because, just as he had got upright, Buffy, white as a sheet, gave a little sigh and crumpled up. He managed to catch her before she hit the ground, and he carried her to the bed. As soon as he had placed her carefully on top of the sheets, he whipped round to see if the woman had regained consciousness.

But she had gone, as if she had never been there. The only sign was the overturned chair and the bedpan on the floor. He looked around but even the dagger was nowhere to be found. But why? She could easily have attacked them, as Buffy would not have been able to save him a second time, since she was out for the count. Well, no time to speculate about that now. He pressed the emergency button.