Buffy noticed three things at once. One, her chest hurt like a bitch. Maybe not as much as when she had thought that she’d lost Spike to another woman, but still. Bitchy pain. Two, she had tubes full of saline and god knew what else dripping into her veins. Three—and this she deemed most important—the love of her life was covered in her blood, a look of total devastation marring his handsome face, and he was fervently muttering to himself.
 
She strained to hear what he was saying, but his voice was too low for her to catch more than disjointed phrases. “Never… So sorry… Heaven, I promise…”
 
Her arm weak, Buffy could barely wave her fingers towards him, and he was too far gone in his unnecessary grief to notice her attempt.
 
“Spike.” Her voice was strangled and she desperately wished for water. “Spike,” she tried again. His eyes tightened, his body shaking with silent sobs. “No, Spike, I’m okay. Open your eyes.”
 
He opened his eyes, confused hope battling with disbelief. “Buffy. Oh, Buffy, ‘m so sorry, love. Don’ wanna lose you, not now that ‘ve found you again. But you’ll be at peace, yeah?”
 
“Shh. Spike, I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
 
“Oh, pet. My brave girl. Love you so much.”
 
She smiled weakly, painfully aware that her lips wouldn’t do much more than grimace, but she was anxious to reassure Spike. “I love you. And I’m okay, really. I just need sleep. Maybe an hour or twenty. And to get this needle out of my arm. Take me to my room?”
 
Hope and disbelief fell, and confusion reigned. “Pet, you’re… Love, there’s a big gaping hole in your chest.”
 
She would have laughed if it hadn’t hurt so badly. “I noticed,” she said dryly. “Really, I’ll be okay, I promise you. I just really, really need some sleep.”
 
Putting his concerns aside for wont of appeasing her, Spike carefully removed the IV and lifted her as gently as he could. He winced at her gasp of pain, and slowly made his way up the stairs and to her room. Unseen, several of the younger slayers stared with fear at the sight of their injured leader at the mercy of a fully fanged master vampire. One of the braver girls started forward, drawing a stake from the small of her back, only to be stopped with a touch and a few whispered words by Vi, who had been anxiously waiting to the side for her friend to awaken.
 
Buffy was asleep when Spike reached his bedroom, forgoing hers for the sake of privacy. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he could once again hear her heartbeat, still weak but quickly gaining strength. He settled her on his bed and stretched out next to her, taking comfort in every puff of air that issued from her mouth.
 
Half an hour later, the door flew open, and Spike sat up, growling and ready to rip whoever was interrupting the slayer’s sleep into itty bitty pieces. He relaxed slightly when he saw Dawn, a wild look in her eyes.
 
“Think ‘s okay, Bit. She’s sleeping.”
 
Dawn stared at her sister in a daze, before her eyes leapt back to Spike. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. Okay. It just—I won’t ever get used to it.”
 
“What’s that?”
 
“Seeing her. Like this. All pale and… Dead-like.”
 
“Ever? How often does this happen, Bit?”
 
Barely noticing the tension thrumming through Spike, Dawn shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not like she tries to get hurt. Or even doesn’t try not to. You know what I mean. But it’s happened a time or two. The first time…” Dawn shuddered. “That was awful. But then… whatever happens, happened. And she was okay.” She glanced up, and saw that she’d lost Spike. “Oh, jeez. She didn’t tell you? Please tell me she told you.”
 
“Tell me what, exactly?”
 
“Crap. Sorry. I just assumed she told you. What the hell did you talk about for so long?” She smacked her forehead. “Don’t answer that.”
 
Spike smirked in spite of himself. “Right.”
 
“Okay, well, she should, you know, tell you most of it. But, see, there’s something wrong with her…” She broke off at Spike’s wince.
 
“Dawn…” Her name was growled in half warning, half pleading.
 
“Not wrong wrong, just… different,” she rushed on. “There was this accident, and she really should have probably not lived, even with the whole slayer-healy thing, but then she did. And then she started noticing other stuff. And we don’t know… But she’ll be fine. I promise, she’s okay.”
 
Dawn stayed insisted that Spike get cleaned up, then a while longer before murmuring that her stomach was growling and asking Spike if she could bring him some blood, which he declined. When she left, he curled himself around Buffy, taking care to leave her bandages undisturbed. He fell asleep to the symphony of heartbeats and breaths that assured him that the love of his existence was still with him.
 
*~*~*
 
His office darkened and the blinds shut, Angel sat, perfectly still, with his head in his hands. He was firmly in the second stage of grief, and anger coursed through his veins. He was furious with himself for his pettiness, with Spike for ever listening to him, with Buffy herself for putting them all in the situation. Rage burned in his heart for the demon (demons?) responsible for Buffy’s death, and for every single slayer that should have been there, protecting her. He blamed Giles for some bit of training that had been left out of Buffy’s curriculum, the Watcher’s Council for their lack of support, and the Powers That Be for choosing an innocent girl to be sacrificed.
 
Logically, he knew that probably no one—with the possible exception of himself—was truly at fault, but logic wasn’t his companion at that moment. A peal of laughter rang out from the lobby outside his office window and his teeth ground together. ‘What right do they have?’ He leapt from his chair, sending it crashing backwards. He paced back and forth across the small space briefly before flinging open the door and roaring his displeasure.
 
A few girls, startled by the furious vampire, fell into fighting stances. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, big guy.” A random slayer put her hands up in a placating gesture. “What the hell is your issue?”
 
“Buffy. She died for you people, and you—you’re all out here. Laughing.”
 
The slayer was shaking her head before he finished. “No. She’s fine. Resting. No one died today.” She turned around and addressed the others behind her. “It was a good day, right girls?” She smiled at several enthusiastic affirmatives. Turning back to Angel, she said, “so you see? Temper tantrums neither needed nor wanted.” Lowering her voice, the slayer (should he know who she was? He suspected that she thought he should) continued, “Angel, let them celebrate. They did good, and they deserve it.”
 
Angel stared bemusedly as she went back to chat with a group of girls sitting in the lobby and promptly ignored him. He received a few sidelong looks as he turned away and wandered up the stairs towards Buffy’s room. He found it empty, unused apart from the bed, which looked as though someone had been laying on top of the spread. He turned to leave, only to be met with Dawn, her eyebrow raised and her arms folded.
 
“I heard Vi tell you that she’s fine. I’m gonna tell you again, though. She’s fine. And she doesn’t want your broody ass annoying her. She’s trying to heal.”
 
“Where is she, Dawn?”
 
“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you.”
 
“Where. Is. She.”
 
“Oooh, big scary vamp. I’m. Not. Telling.”
 
Angel let out a frustrated sigh and tunneled his fingers through his hair. “Look, I just need to see that she’s okay for myself. Because before… Dawn, I couldn’t hear her heart beating. I need to hear it.”
 
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Angel. She’s fine. Take it from her sister. And maybe she’ll, you know, let you see her later. When she’s awake. But right now Spike’s—”
 
“What?!
 
“Um, nothing. I just meant that I’m going to go see Spike, and—”
 
“She’s with Spike? Since when? Since before she got hurt?”
 
“Hey! He didn’t have anything to do with it! Who do you think brought her back? He loves her, dammit, and you need to leave them alone!”
 
Angel slumped with relief. “It wasn’t my fault, then.”
 
“Huh? With a what?”
 
He shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. That’s fine, then. Well, maybe not fine, but sort of okay.” He pushed passed her and strode down the hall, coat billowing behind him. “I still want to see her when she wakes up!” he called over his shoulder. “I have a phone call to make and a girlfriend to grovel to.”
 
Dawn could only stare after him, mouth agape.
 
 
 
 
 
 TBC