Chapter 7


There was no time to think as the Slayer’s unconscious body slumped into his arms. The demon responsible for her condition stood behind her, ready to deliver the second strike with his ten inch talons. The demon paused as Spike growled, shifting into his game face. He yanked Buffy further away from the puzzled demon’s reach. Setting her on the ground, he threw himself at the demon that seemed to be blending in with the background right before his eyes like a chameleon.


'The bugger thought he would get an easy meal.'


The demon let out a shrill yell and tried to scurry back, but Spike gripped its arm and twisted it behind its back, breaking the bones. The demon fell to his knee and Spike kicked it between its shoulder blades, sending the creature face first into the ground. Before the demon could try to get up, Spike slammed his heavy boot on to its neck and grinned at the satisfying crack. The demon went limp and dissolved.


Spike shifted back to his human face and knelt next to Buffy. Her entire back was covered in blood as it soaked through the thin red top. His nostrils twitched at the delicious aroma and Spike hesitated for just a moment. He should leave her here. While the wounds might not be fatal for a slayer, she could still bleed to death eventually.


No Buffy Summers to make his unlife miserable. No Buffy to slap him around and flaunt her virtue as she looked down her nose at him. Why had he saved her then? What was wrong with him? He should have let the demon finish the job if Spike couldn’t do it himself. She wouldn’t have to know if he took a lick, right?


'Yeah, wishful thinking that.'


With a sigh, he picked her up and cradled her to his chest, the demon in him raging at the smell of the Slayer’s blood so close to him while the strange feeling of protectiveness swamped him with an unexpected force.


Shaking himself, Spike strode towards the house on Revello, trying to convince himself he helped the Slayer because he didn’t fancy being spell bound to a corpse.


******


Buffy’s skin was so hot, it almost burned his hands as he placed her on her front and turned her head to the side so she could breathe. The mattress sunk slightly under her weight. Spike took off her sneakers and dropped to his knees to search under her bed for the medical supplies he had seen there when she was grabbing her weapons. The fever was making itself known as Buffy’s body battled it out with the poison in her blood. The vivid hallucinations would come after she stirred awake.


'Those should be fun.'


Dru had been attacked by the Kahantrec demon once. She had acted even more off her rocker than usual. Always talking about her precious Daddy and talking to the pixies flying around her. Then again, she did those things on a daily basis, just not to such extent. Spike had wanted to claw his eyes out by the time she overcame it. The demon’s venom was one of a few that could affect even a vampire.


The species were a stealthy lot, known for their ability to blend in with their surroundings, so Spike wasn’t surprised neither he nor the Slayer had noticed the demon’s approach. They only made themselves known before the final strike, the venom in their claws rendering their victim instantly unconscious so they could snack at them freely.


Aid kit in his hand, Spike set it next to her on the bed. Taking out the scissors, he cut her top and peeled it to the sides so he could inspect the wounds on her back. She moaned in pain as the air touched her cuts.


Spike cleaned the wounds, applying ointment to prevent infection. The muscles in his jaw ticked as the demon within him raved to have a taste.


'The Slayer better appreciate what I’m doing for her.'


After a few minutes, Spike noticed her eyelids fluttered until she gained the strength to open her eyes.


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“W-what… happened?”


“A demon. Nothing fatal though, so no worries. And stop yapping. You’ll just exhaust yourself.”
He gently tugged the tattered, bloodied top from underneath her and brushed the hair falling into her face away. He snagged his hand back when he noticed what he was doing and stepped away to throw the top into a nearby wastebasket.


“Don’t.” Buffy took in a trembling breath. “Leave.”


Spike had a half mind to slap himself as he sat down next to her bed, trying to get comfortable on the hard floor. Not that he could leave even if he wanted to, but he should be feeling at least a little resentment.


“Hurts,” she whispered.


Spike had to resist a strange urge to caress her cheek. He clenched his hands into fists.


“It’ll pass soon, Slayer. You’re a fast healer.”


“I’ve n-never noticed before.”


“What?”


“Did you know your eyes sparkle in the moonlight? So blue… they are so very blue.”


Spike rubbed the back of his neck and folded his arms on the mattress, propping his chin on them with a heavy sigh. 'Hallucinations, here we come.'


Her face was no longer tense in pain, but fell slack as she seemed to fall into some kind of trance. Buffy gazed at him with hooded eyes. The cuts on her back seemed to be healing; the blood had already stopped trickling from the wounds.


“And I like your hair… I wouldn’t tell you, but I like it. You’re so beautiful… like an angel fallen from heaven.”


Spike was glad he wasn’t drinking anything or he would have spit it out. “I gotta disappoint you, pet. I’m as far from being an angel as I possibly can. Evil here, you know?”


“Hmm… I like that.”


“Always knew you fancied your men a bit on the evil side.”


Her fingers reached out and Spike watched them warily. They made contact with the side of his face, the heat radiating off her skin burning a path down his cheek as she stroked it. He closed his eyes against his own volition. The Slayer punching him; that he could handle. But this strange gentleness she bestowed upon him hurt more than anything she could have thrown at him. She didn’t really mean it.


Spike felt embarrassed for the way such simple contact made him feel. How much he craved to be touched with tenderness for once. It had been so long.


“Am I burning?” she asked suddenly, her eyes full of panic as she glanced wildly around.


“No, luv. It’s just the fever. It should wear off in an hour or so.”


“P-please, make it stop.”


She started to flail around and almost rolled on to her back, but Spike’s arm shot out to press her shoulders down, keeping her lying on her stomach. Her eyes glazed over with tears and her bottom lip quivered.


Spike had never seen the Slayer cry, and he didn’t think he would ever again. It didn’t give him any satisfaction, and that bothered him. Knowing her, she probably kept the grief locked firmly inside, only letting it out when nobody could see her vulnerable. Spike could almost feel sorry for her.


“Don’t fret. You’ll reopen the wounds.” He stroked her shoulder to calm her down. “Do you want me to draw you a cold bath? I think that should ease down the fever, though I’m not sure--haven’t taken care of a human in a long while.”


“No. There are evil fairies in the tub.” She seemed to have settled down and Spike’s hand shifted to run through her luscious hair.


“Evil fairies, eh?”


“Mr. Gordo agrees with me. And he thinks you’re super handsome.”


'Who the bloody hell is Mr. Gordo?'


“He’s got a good taste then.”


“Spike?” she mumbled with her eyes still closed. “Your hand is cold.”


“Feels good?” he asked, stilling the hand at the back of her neck.


“Mmm… hold me?”


“Eh… not sure that would be wise of me. You’re gonna stake me in the morning, once you’re all there in the noggin.”


“I’m not! Life would be boring without you in it.” Buffy opened her eyes and stared at him, pouting. “Please?”


Spike rolled his eyes then stood up and kicked off his boots. He considered taking off his tank top but decided against it. He knelt on the bed, stepping carefully over Buffy to lie to her left. She turned her head to gaze at him and snuggled closer to his side. It was hard not to take a peek at her bare breasts when she slightly lifted herself, so he didn’t even try. Spike was still evil, after all.


Her arm was thrown over his chest, her leg tucked between his thighs. The Slayer was like one of those electric blankets and Spike had to admit that having her draped over his body clad only in shorts and socks didn’t feel bad at all.


“You smell like chocolate,” Buffy mumbled into his neck then bit down. He gasped, glancing down at her incredulously. Biting a vampire? Not a good idea if one wanted to stay with their metaphorical virtue intact.


“You better not sink your little teeth into me again, pet. I might do something you wouldn’t like.”


“Okay,” she muttered humbly.


Several seconds passed, Spike inadvertently stroked her hair and stared at the ceiling. Buffy wriggled against his side and pressed her face against his neck.


'Seriously, what’s with the bird and my neck?'


Then Buffy licked him languidly, purring as if she was snacking on something delicious. Which she probably thought she was, hallucinations and all that. Spike tilted his head back to give her better access, pressing her even closer to him. His eyes fluttered shut as the Slayer started to suck on the sensitive skin beneath his jaw. He felt like his brain was melting, but he knew he should protest. And why was that again?


“Mmm… tasty. Chocolatey ice-creamy goodness,” she said between her sucks and licks.


'Oh yeah, that’s why.'


Just as she inched her tempting mouth to nibble on his earlobe Spike mentally shook himself.


'Bloody useless conscience… why have I decided to grow one now?'


“Eh, Slayer… Stop licking me before I do something you’d stake me for later.”


“Why?” Buffy whined, but, thanks to whoever listened to evil vampires like him, stopped molesting him.


“Good question… I’m not a piece of candy, you know? You should take a kip so you can back to your not so pleasant self in the morning.”


“You think I’m unpleasant?”


“Well… yeah.”


“Why?”


“Beside your high and mighty attitude you mean? Well, it wouldn’t hurt to pull out that stake you have up your arse and have some fun instead of complaining all the time. You might even be happy if you let yourself be. But you haven’t been such a bitch lately. I must be a good influence on you.”


“Oh.”


Now Spike knew she wasn’t herself or else she’d have his head on a platter for the comment.


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“Tell the frogs to stop staring at me.”


TBC


Author's note: I read somewhere that if you lick a frog, it will cause you hallucinations. Isn't it awesome? :D And also icky? How did they find out? Did they just lick a frog 'cause they thought it would be fun?