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Together Again by slaymesoftly
 
Chapter Four
 
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 CHAPTER FOUR
 
As the slayers gathered weapons and went over last minute instructions, Spike stood near the door. His lack of coat and weapon made it obvious he wasn’t going to be going with them, and his expression made it equally obvious he wasn’t happy about it.
 
Buffy slipped up behind him to hiss at him, “Be mad at me all you want, but don’t let these girls go out there thinking you don’t believe they can fight if you’re not there. They don’t need that from you.”
 
The local slayers kept sending less-than-subtle glances at Spike, their unhappiness about leaving him behind keeping them separate from the girls who’d arrived with Buffy.  When it looked like there might be harsh words exchanged between the two groups, he sighed and forced a smile. Stepping to the door, he said, “Come on, troops. I’ll be waiting to hear how many of those ugly buggers you make dust tonight. If you’re really good, I might even throw a party for you when you get back. The girl who slays the most vamps gets to sit next to the sexy vampire that doesn’t want to eat you. Probably…” He wriggled his eyebrows at them, watching the older girls who got the double entendre blush. Grinning, he waved them out the door with a personal comment for each girl.  Not until they’d all left the building – now protected by Willow’s boost to the simple no-entry spell they’d had in place before – did he lose the grin and turn away.
 
“Thank you,” Buffy said quietly. “Those girls obviously think you hung the moon. Your confidence in them is important.”
 
He growled under his breath. “I know that. Shouldn’t have needed you to kick my arse in gear. It won’t happen again, Slayer. I know my job.”
 
Buffy sighed. “It’s not a ‘job’, Spike. It’s just that they want to please you. Let them.” As the rest of the slayers filed out of the building, she put a hand on his arm. “I know you want to be there with us. But I also know if you’re not giving me a hard time about staying back, it’s because you know you shouldn’t be out there. If you don’t think you’re healed enough to fight, that’s all I need. You’re grounded until further notice.”
 
His answering snarl was only half-hearted and he didn’t throw her hand off, nor did he bother to argue with her.  “Best get outside before they start without you,” he said.  “I’ll be here when you’re done for the night.”
 
“’K. I’ll be back later.” She turned away, pretending she didn’t hear his “You’d bloody well better be.”
 
XXXXXX
 
He turned as he felt Willow come up behind him.
 
“Not being a good patient?” she said with a sympathetic smile.
 
“I’m tryin’,” he grumbled. “There’s just no pleasing some people.”  He cocked his head at Willow and gave her one of his little-boy smiles. “Don’t suppose you could magic me all back together?”
 
She wagged her finger at him.  “I could make you feel better, but that would get us both in trouble. You just rest and drink your blood like a good little vampire.” She smiled at him again. “We both remember how long it took for you to get back on your feet after one Turok-han had been beating on you. Even with Buffy sneaking you her blood—”
 
“I never asked her to do that!” he said quickly.
 
“I know you didn’t. She wanted you to get better fast. It creeped me out at the time, but I understand it better now. She’d been so afraid she wasn’t going to find you in time. And then you were so trashed…. All she was thinking was the man she loved had almost died and she needed to make him well.”
 
Spike flinched at her words, but nodded. “I s’pect she was also thinkin’ her next strongest fighter needed to get back in the game.” He didn’t comment on being the man Buffy loved.
 
“That too,” Willow admitted. “But I think she’d have done it anyway. I mean, we all knew she loved you… but—”
 
“Been nice if somebody shared that with me,” he grumbled, starting toward the kitchen.
 
“She couldn’t,” Willow said to his departing back. “I think she was afraid to let herself feel anything but her responsibilities for all those girls… and the world. But after you were... gone…. That wasn’t a good time for her, and that’s when we realized…. She was proud of you, but she was mourning too. And then you—”
 
“Don’t remind me,” he groaned as he turned to look at her. “I let the big poof talk me into thinking she was better off without me. And I still believed it when she tossed me into the sun. We never got time to settle anything before Twangle needed killin’ and she shoved me away. Which I’m choosing to believe was because she knew the bugs were going to grab me before I turned to toast….”
 
“Uh huh. And what’s your excuse this time?  You do know everybody thought you were a myth, don’t you?”
 
“This time she really is better off without me,” he said flatly. “I’ll help her close this hole into hell, but that’s it.”
 
Willow stared at him. “Don’t do that, Spike. Don’t disappear again.”
 
He didn’t respond, just turned and continued in to get more blood from the freezer.
 
“Don’t do that to her, Spike,” Willow whispered as he walked away. “Please don’t do that to my friend…”
 
 
XXXXXX
 
When the girls began coming back in, several hours later, Spike was at the door to meet them. As was Willow, with a maid’s cart she’d appropriated for the medical supplies.  As the girls entered, they were greeted and sent off to shower if they seemed fine, or to sit down and have their wounds treated if they had visible injuries.
 
Spike had a pleasant word for each of “his” slayers, commenting upon everything from demon goo in their hair to how deep a wound looked. He also had welcoming words for the girls who’d arrived with Buffy, none of whose names he knew yet. But he’d already begun giving them nicknames, and soon had them smiling at him.  Without being asked, several of the uninjured girls dropped their weapons and began helping Willow with the first aid where it was needed.
 
Even as he nodded his approval, and chatted with ‘his’ girls about who won the coveted seat next to him, his worried eyes scanned the empty doorway for the two slayers he hadn’t seen yet.  He gave an audible sigh when Buffy finally followed Rachel through the door, closing it behind her before dropping her scythe on a chair. Spike and Willow noticed almost simultaneously that Buffy’s left arm, which dangled at her side, was bleeding through a makeshift bandage.
 
Willow started toward Buffy, but halted when Spike spoke.
 
“Buffy?” was all he said as he waited for her. Their eyes met and exchanged silent communication before she nodded and waved Willow off.
 
“I’ve got this,” Spike said, taking the first aid supplies and bandages from Willow. He began to follow Buffy who was already walking toward his room.  She opened the door with her good hand and walked in, standing in the middle of the floor uncertainly.
 
“Let’s do this, love. You need to stop bleeding, and I need to be well enough to get out there with you.”
 
She nodded and moved to the bathroom. “It’s bleeding too much to unwrap it on a rug.”
 
As he watched, she stepped into the tub and slipped what was left of her shirt off to the side.  Spike reached in and tugged it over her head, ignoring the blood spattered sports bra.  He carefully began unwinding the bandage that had obviously once been someone’s sweatshirt. He gave a hissed “Bloody hell” as almost immediately blood began welling out of it and dripping into the tub. He ripped the rest of the bandage off, lowered his head, and began swallowing blood as fast as he could. He held Buffy’s arm over her head with one hand, applying pressure on the brachial artery until he no longer felt her blood filling his mouth. 
 
As soon as he felt the blood stop gushing, he began licking the wound, cleaning in and around it and at the same time, slowing down the bleeding even more. When he had it almost closed, he lowered her arm and reached behind him for a gauze pad.  He pressed it against the wound, asking her, “Do you think you can hold this here? Just for a second or two.”
 
Buffy nodded, but her face was pinched and pale, and she knew she wasn’t going to remain erect much longer.  Before she could warn him that she was feeling dizzy, he was spreading antibiotic ointment on the wound, and replacing the gauze with a new, clean pad. He’d just finished wrapping it when she began to sway.  “Spike….” she breathed just before she collapsed, only falling a few inches before he had both arms around her.
 
“I’ve got you, Buffy. Hang on, I’ll get you to the bed.”
 
With no noticeable effort he picked her up and carried her to his bed, laying her down and frowning at her ashen face. 
 
“I’ll be right back. You stay here.”
 
“No problem,” she whispered, her eyes already closing.
 
Moving faster than he had in days, Spike ran to the kitchen, grabbing bottles of water, two different kinds of juice, and at the last minute, a piece of fried chicken. He ran back to his room to find Willow standing in the doorway, her face crinkled in worry.
 
“This can’t be good,” she muttered, staring at Buffy’s seemingly lifeless body.
 
“She’ll be fine,” he snapped. “Heartrate’s good and steady, the bleeding’s stopped. She just needs some liquids and some protein. Something better than this chicken leg. Steak would be good.”
 
“You might want to wipe your mouth and chin before you let anybody else see her lying on your bed looking like she’s dying,” Willow said, taking the water from him and walking toward Buffy.  He flinched and ran into the bathroom to wash Buffy’s blood off his face. Willow flicked a glance at him when he came back, then put her attention back on Buffy. 
 
“You sit up and drink this or I’m going to have to stick a needle in your arm and get it in that way,” she threatened when Buffy made a face at the juice Willow was holding to her lips.
 
Without comment, Spike sat on the other side of the bed and slipped an arm behind Buffy, lifting her just far enough that she could drink without choking. She gave him a bleary glare, but opening her mouth and began to swallow. When she’d drunk half the bottle, she stopped and shook her head. Willow pulled the bottle back and Spike let Buffy lie back against the pillow he shoved behind her.
 
Willow and Spike exchanged small smiles as some faint color came back to Buffy’s face.  Even with her eyes closed, she was looking less near death than she had only minutes before.  Willow stood up and handed the bottle to Spike. “I guess you’ve got this. I’ll go check on the other girls and make sure everyone’s doing what they need to do.”
 
Spike nodded as he took the juice from her.  “Ask Rachel to come in and report, would you? Need to know how this happened.”
 
“It happened because she’s a slayer and she puts herself in harm’s way, Spike. You, of all, people, shouldn’t need a reminder of that.”
 
“Don’t like reminders that involve this much blood loss,” he growled. Buffy’s light tug on his sleeve shifted his attention back to her and he immediately softened his tone. “You want more juice?”
 
“Yes, please,” she whispered, struggling to sit up by herself.
 
“Hold on,” he said, putting his arm behind her again and lifting her until he could put the bottle to her lips.  He held her in place while she gulped down the rest of the bottle of juice and relaxed against him. Buffy gave herself a few seconds to enjoy the position she was in, then, taking a hint from his rigid posture, she sighed and said, “You can let me go now. I think I need to rest.”
 
She glanced down at her blood-soaked body and made a face. “I think I also need to get out of these disgusting clothes. They’re starting to solidify.”
 
He frowned, then got to his feet and went to a dresser, opening a drawer and pulling out a tee-shirt. He carried it back to the bed and stood there, confusion making him frown. “This would do a fair job of covering you, but…”
 
Ignoring his obvious embarrassment, Buffy said, “That’ll work until I can walk back to my own room. Just help me out of these gross jeans and this bra.”  When he didn’t move, she looked up. “What? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Or don’t you remember how to take my clothes off?”
 
“I remember,” he growled, but obediently dropped the shirt and reached for the button on her jeans. While Buffy shut her eyes, he unfastened her jeans, then went to the foot of the bed to take off her boots and socks.  He tugged on the legs of her jeans, but they didn’t move, being too stiff with dried blood. With a sigh, he went back to her side and began to pull them off her hips, trying very hard to both avoid touching her skin, and jostling her enough to hurt her arm. By the time they were off, Buffy seemed to be sleeping or unconscious, so he took them to the bathroom and threw them in the still blood-spattered tub. He came back with a warm wet washcloth and began to carefully sponge away the blood drying on her upper body and face. He carefully smoothed back her hair, whispering, “You can wash that out when you feel up to it, Slayer.” He stared at the bloody sports bra in indecision, then exhaled hard and reached under her, grateful to find it was the kind that fastened and not one that would have to be pulled over her head and bad arm.
 
He got it off, carried it to the bathroom, and threw it into the tub with the jeans and his own somewhat bloody shirt, before returning to stare at the almost-naked woman on the bed. Shaking his head at himself, he went back to the shirt drawer and got a clean tee-shirt for himself before trying to figure out how to get the other one on an injured and sleeping girl.
 
Buffy took the question out of his hands by opening her eyes and muttering, “Why am I naked?  And cold?”
 
“Sorry, pet. Didn’t think about drying you off.” He grabbed a towel and brushed it over her everywhere he’d washed off. Then he took the tee-shirt and said, “Okay, I’m going to slip this over your bad arm, and then you’re going to have to sit up so we can get it over your head and the other arm. Are you with me?”
 
“Yeah, yeah. I need to drink some more anyway.”
 
She watched with interest as he very slowly and carefully worked the shirt over the bandaged arm until he got it to her shoulder.
 
“Okay, here we go, you tell me if I’m hurting you.” He pulled her into a sitting position and wrestled the neck opening over her head, smiling when she raised her other arm herself and stuck it through the armhole.  He tugged the shirt down until she was covered from her shoulders to her thighs.
 
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”
 
“Didn’t mind,” he said gruffly. “Jus’ didn’t want to hurt you.” 
 
“You didn’t.” Her voice was soft, but sounded stronger. “May I have some water?”
 
“Of course. You can have as much as you want. Here.” He held the water out, not sure if he should hold it for her or not, but she smiled and took it from him with her uninjured arm. She tipped it up and swallowed as much as she could at one time, catching the expression on his face as she lowered the bottle.
 
“What?”
 
“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “It’s just that I think you could give me a run for my money in a chugging contest.”
 
She snorted, but smiled. “We both know that’s not true.” She handed him the half-empty bottle, which he set beside the bed within easy reach. “I think I need to sleep again….” she said, sliding down against the pillow, her eyes already closing.
 
He frowned, but nodded when she murmured, “My body knows what it needs. And right now it needs to sleep and do some repair work.”
 
He watched as her breathing became deep and even, then saw gooseflesh on her arms. He pulled the covers from underneath her, shaking them out, and then gently dropping them on her sleeping form. He stood, staring at her head on his pillow, then shook himself and left the room.
 
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