Chapter Two


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Armed with a veritable mountain of supplies, she sat on the edge of the bed next to Spike, her worried gaze flying over his form. He had fallen asleep only a few minutes ago, the strain of the past few days catching up with him all of a sudden. In sleep, he was deathly still, somehow making his numerous injuries seem even worse.

Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she forced herself into motion, taking a damp cloth and placing it on his chest. He flinched in his sleep but, much to her relief, he did not wake and she continued as carefully as she could, her hand shaking ever so slightly. She worked blindly, something in her unwilling to take in the true extent of his wounds as she cleaned them.

He would heal, she kept reassuring herself. He healed just as quickly as her, if not quicker, and he would be fine in a few days with rest and blood. At the thought, her gaze fell to the floor, to the bag of blood Willow had handed her with a solemn expression. Pig’s blood, of course. It would help him to heal – at least a little.



She forced her gaze back to him and worked her way over his chest, doing her best to tend to his injuries. When finally his wounds were clean and bound to some extent, she turned her attention to his bruised ribs. She was pretty sure there were a few broken ones, but she hesitated, torn between not wanting to wake him and wanting to make sure he had the best chance of healing.

Finally, the last impulse won out and she gently touched her hand to his shoulder.

“Spike?”

He murmured in his sleep and she smiled affectionately before calling his name again.

“Hmm?” he got out, his eyes still closed.

“I need to strap your ribs.”

He groaned something that might have been acceptance and she shifted closer, a frown flitting across her face as she considered her predicament.

With a sigh, she leant over him and wrapped her arms around him, trying hard to subdue her body’s instinctive reaction to his closeness – a sliver of fear replaced with a frisson of something else she pushed away quickly. She guided him into a sitting position slowly, cringing with every painful moan torn from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a choked sob and she carefully held him up with one arm as she gently skimmed her fingers over his ribs. He groaned almost instantly and his head lolled forward, resting against her as she struggled to reach the bandages behind her.



It was at this moment she wished she had accepted the offer of help from her sister and Willow, but something had held her back. That something being mainly a feeling that she did not want them to see him like this but also a feeling that this was her job to do. For Spike. For her.

She unravelled the long roll of bandage and wrapped it as tightly as she dared around his middle, hating the painful low sounds coming from him with every movement.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered helplessly, wanting to comfort him with her touch but settling for rubbing her cheek against his head almost unthinkingly as she busied herself with tying of the bandages, “I’m almost done.”

He groaned something unintelligible in reply and she quickly finished her job, hoping to ease his pain as soon as possible. She took his shoulder with her free hand and slowly eased him backwards on to the pillows, slipping free when he sank into them.

His one good eye slowly fluttered open and regarded her for a moment before it fell shut again tiredly.

“Spike, I need you to tell me where else you’re hurt,” she said softly, reaching out and stroking the back of his hand.

She thought he hadn’t heard her but a long moment later, he replied.

“All over,” he choked out with a twisted smile, coughing painfully afterwards.

“Nice and specific,” she joked, already scanning her gaze over him, trying to spot anywhere that needed special attention.

“Your leg,” she commented, resting her hand on it, “You were limping on the way home.”

“M’fine… really.”

“Would you just suck it up and let me look after you?” she got out, her low tone softening the harshness of her words.

He opened his eye once more and met her gaze with a soft one. She smiled weakly and then he nodded, closing his eye again and laying his head back on the pillow.

“Good,” she said, returning her attention to his leg, “Now, your leg. Is it bad?”



Some time later, she took a step back from the bed and brushed her hair from her face. She had done the best she could but Spike still looked like hell. She swept her gaze over the numerous bandages and other bindings decorating his skin and frowned, placing the remaining bandaging down on the side table.

She looked at the bag of blood for a moment but dismissed the idea as she glanced at Spike: he was resting peacefully enough and she was loath to wake him. Instead she quietly packed up the supplies, her eyes darting to him every now and again, checking on him.

Finally there was nothing left to do and she hovered over him awkwardly, not wanting to leave him but knowing that she needed to report back to her friends. She bit her lip as she considered and then finally, she went into motion. She went to her cupboard and after a bit of searching, pulled out a large woollen blanket. Moving back to the bed, she laid the blanket over the sleeping vampire and stepped back to look at him.

With a tiny smile, she finally turned and headed for the door, glancing back at him once before she opened it and slipped outside onto the landing, closing the door silently behind her. She stopped there for a few long moments, gathering her wits and taking a moment to relax, her shoulders sagging as she rested her head against her door. Eventually, she shook herself and pushed herself away from the door, throwing a glance at it quickly and then making her way downstairs.