Spike laid towels on the floor of the large bathroom and started running a warm bath. Buffy sat slumped in the wheelchair, still sleeping. He grabbed washrags and tossed them into the warm water. He didn't have antiseptic, but his saliva would seal her wounds if her healing hadn't already gotten to them.

He walked over to her and ran one hand gently behind her knees and the other behind her back. Buffy shifted into his arms before he could lift her. He looked down at her and felt that strange twisting sensation again. He picked her up carefully, cradling her in his arms. He carried her over to towels and laid her down upon them.

Pulling the blanket off of her, he surveyed the damage. The bruises were already dark purple and yellow, but they covered her whole body. The shallow cuts were sealed but there were several wounds still seeping blood. He grabbed a rag from the warm water and carefully washed the blood from her face and neck. He looked at the now pink cloth and closed his fist tightly around it before throwing it into the corner. Then he grabbed a new cloth from the tub and started working his way down her body.

He had finished wiping her feet off when he noticed her watching him. Her eyes were so swollen he could barely make out their color. She didn't shift her body or try to hide herself from him. There was no need for modesty between them. He held out his hand and she grabbed it, squeezing with all her strength.

He stretched out next to her on the towels, still holding her hand. She turned her head toward him. She tried to shift her body, but gasped in pain when her hip moved.

"You shouldn't move. I haven't reduced your hip yet. It'll hurt like mother buggering hell, but then you should be mobile again." He smiled at her. "You can help me destroy the bloody chair after."

"I want to keep it." Buffy choked out.

"Why on Earth would you want to keep that cursed contraption?"

"You used it to carry me away from there. It's part of my freedom." She tried to shrug and gasped in pain.

"Then we'll keep it until you want it gone." He reached over and traced his fingers along the edge of one of her blackened eyes. She closed her eyes and her breath escaped softly. "We need to take care of that hip now."

She nodded and let go of his hand. She wrapped her arms tight around her middle as he rotated the joint. She whimpered and he felt and heard the joint pop back into alignment. She pulled her legs up to her chest and curled into a ball.

Spike stood for a moment and watched her. She was retreating into herself. He couldn't blame her really, but she needed to stop it.

He carefully picked her up from the towels and set her in the tub. She kept her knees tight to her chest, and he could see it was causing her pain to do so. Her lips were pressed together so tightly the appeared to be white.

"Buffy, you need to let your legs down, let your joint recover." He sat on the edge of the tub. "I'll wash your hair for you, if you'd like."

She slowly let her legs slide down into the water. He nodded his head at her and grabbed for the bottle of shampoo perched on the side of the tub. He had only used it once before she had all but smashed him to death with that flaming organ. He smiled and flipped open the cap, letting the smell of vanilla waft free. He had reveled in the scent of her imagining her life's blood flowing into him. Now, he was acting as her nursemaid. He poured a liberal amount into his hands and started to lather her hair.

She leaned into his touch as he worked his fingers along her scalp looking for any open wounds. Her back was in bad shape. The cat Angelus used on her had barbed lashes. If he didn't clean her up soon she could scar.

"I need you to lie down in the water and rinse your hair." He spoke softly and helped her ease back into the water. Her hissing breath as the myriad open wounds in her back came in contact with the water made him wince. "I'm going to lift you out of there in a minute, and if you can stand, I'll see to your back."

"You're going to have to lick it like you did those two open wounds on my stomach." She looked up at him. "It's okay. I was awake. I know you did it to seal them."

"I don't have much in the way of medical supplies. Although if you need a transfusion, I do have bagged blood on hand." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Awful plastic aftertaste wouldn't even be a problem for you."

She looked up at him and he saw her pain, her fear. He tilted his head and smiled. He reached into the water and helped her rinse off before he picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wincing at the pain in her shoulders. The water sliced off her body and soaked his clothing, but he stood holding her, listening to her heartbeat.

She shivered and he remembered to move. He stepped over to the counter and let her slide down his body slowly, not wanting to shock her damaged hip. He fought not to grab her up after he heard her tiny gasp as her leg took her full weight.

Spike grabbed a bath sheet and quickly dried her body. He patted her back carefully. She tensed and held her breath.

"This won't hurt, not one little bit. I promise pet." Spike lowered his lips to her shoulder and dropped a chaste kiss there.

He slowly licked along one tear running from her shoulder down to the middle of her lower back. The blood flowing sluggishly from it tasted like ambrosia, his elixir of eternal life. He licked several more sealing them.

He heard her hear beat start to speed up, and he looked into the mirror across from them. Her eyes were wide with panic. He ran a hand along her side careful of the bruising trying to comfort her. She reached down and grabbed it, pulling him flush against her. His face pressed against her lower back, he waited for her to calm down.

"You're not in the mirror. I can't see you. I need to know it's you, Spike." She relaxed her grip on his hand.

"I'm right here, luv. Not anyone, but me. We're almost finished. Just a minute or two more and we'll tuck you up in a big posh bed. Close you eyes and let me see to you."

He watched her close her eyes and relax as he stroked her flank. He worked quickly sealing the last of the lash's damage. Then he noticed the line of blood running down her thigh. He followed it up and looked at the gouges Angelus had left in her skin with his fingernails. Spike closed his eye and rode out the wave of anger. She didn't need him touching her with feelings like that riding in him. He carefully sealed each gouge and lapped up the blood that had trickled down her leg.

"All done, pet. You ready for a bit of kip?"

She turned toward him and leaned against his chest. "I have no idea what kip is." She mumbled.

"I'm going to have to expand your vocabulary, Buffy." He smiled as she tucked her head under his chin. "Now, let's get you tucked up."

He swung her body up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He held her close against his still damp tee shirt with one arm and pulled back the down comforter and the cotton sheet to slide her into his bed. She looked tiny in the giant bed. He grinned and covered her up.

He turned away from the bed and headed for the closet. He needed to get out of his wet clothes.

"Where are you going?" Her voice was panicky again.

"Just going to change my clothes and find you something to put on. Then I should call your watcher."

"I don't want to put anything on yet. I'm too sore." He turned and smiled at the image she presented with his sheets clutched to her chest, like a deflowered Victorian maiden.

"That's fine, but I'd like to be dry." He watched her nod as if granting him permission. "I'll just be a minute."

He grabbed a fresh tee and a pair of jeans before he ducked in the bathroom to change. He picked up all the towels and shoved them down the laundry shoot with the blanket and his clothes.

"Spike what's taking you so long. It's not like you're a fashion plate." He smiled and returned to find Buffy staring at the phone. "Call him, please."

Spike nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. She curled her body up near his and rested one tiny hand on his thigh as he picked up the phone.