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Therapy
 
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"I'm really not hungry, there's no reason for you to go out," Spike tried to reason with her.

"You're still healing, you need lots of blood. Besides, if I stay here all you'll do is work up an appetite."

"Really luv, I'm fine, look." Spike grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his lap. It hurt like hell, everyone of those tiny muscles in his palm and fingers screamed, but he was able to do it.

Buffy looked suitably impressed. Then a worried look crossed her face.

"Crap, we forgot about you're exercises. We didn't do them last night or this morning."

It wasn't how Spike wanted to spend their time. However since Buffy seemed perfectly content to remain on his lap he wasn't going to complain.

As her hands guided his through the proper motions he tried to steal gentle kisses. Whenever he managed to catch her lips she would giggle and then pretend to scold him. He would be good then, for all of a minute, and then he would begin it all again.

The whole thing was like a dream to Spike. She was so real, so vivid. She was with him. It was terrifying. He could believe that there was really hope for the two of them. He couldn't help but lap up the attention she was lavishing on him, along with her smiles, her giggles, her joy. Having a happy Buffy wriggling in his lap was all Spike could ever ask for.

"Okay, that's enough. I really have to go now." Buffy said as they finished.

"Can't go yet."

"Why not?"

He pulled his arms tighter around her, hugging her close, but also grinding her against the erection that had formed during their session.

"Feel what you do to me?" he growled in her ear, and then commenced nuzzling her.

"Oh so that's my fault?"

"Mmmmm," was all he said as he continued to focus his attention on her neck.

"Spike, stop it. I really have to go. You need blood and I didn't notice it on the room service menu. Unless. . . you want something a little fresher?"

He stopped. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously, titling his head to look her in the eye.

"Me," she whispered.

"You want me to bite you?" he said quietly.

She nodded, but she could no longer meet his eye. Instead she looked down at the floor.

He ran his knuckles across the scars on her neck causing her to shiver. "Why?" he asked.

"It. . . It would be good for you. Slayer blood's so strong. And I wouldn't have to go out, so afterward we could. . ."

"What?"

"Make love," she offered. She was fidgety, he could tell that she didn't understand his reluctance anymore than she liked being forced to explain herself.

"I'd like that, pet. The last part anyway." She looked up at him confused. "But I'm not going to bite you."

"Why not?" she asked, jutting out her bottom lip to give him her best pout.

It almost did him in. But he retained his resolve.

"Because it's not good for you," he pressed his finger to her lips before she could object. "I would never hurt you Buffy. You know that. Sure, I know what I'm doing. I could drain you without hurting you. But that's not the point. You're starting to crave it. The way Riley did. " Her eyes flared with anger, "Let me finish. This could get you killed. You can't safely fight vampires if some part of you deep down wants them to bite you. And I could never stand to think I had some part in getting you killed."

She waited a moment to see if he was done. Then she broke his hold and stood up.

"I'm nothing like Riley was. I would never pay . . . You're wrong. You're just wrong. Now I need to get you some blood." With that she grabbed her purse and left. Slamming the door behind her.

Well that could have gone worse, Spike thought. Sure Buffy had run away, but that was par for the course. He'd come out of it without a bloody nose, and hopefully, if he gave her time to think about what he said. . . okay so that probably wouldn't make a difference.

In fact he realized, that this problem was a bit unique in that it didn't matter whether Buffy admitted to it or not. She was right, she would never consciously seek to be bitten by anyone other than him. Or Angel, a voice he'd rather not listen to prompted. But that wasn't where the danger lay. It lay in the heat of the fight, when the brain was a passenger and the body took over. When thoughts came too slowly to be of any use and instinct was all that kept you alive.

He sat there, deep in thought, trying to think up a way to help Buffy. To save her. He was so rapt up in his own head that he almost didn't notice the door open.

"Back so soon p-" he stopped. Before the figure even came through the door he smelled him. It wasn't Buffy, it was Angel.

"You came to visit. Why I didn't know you cared. Did you bring me any flowers? Or perhaps a spy camera?" Spike mocked.

Angel entered the room, closed the door behind him. He stood with his arms crossed, his legs set wide, and wearing what Spike knew, was his second best menacing look. After Angel had lost his soul in Sunnydale, Spike had secretly watched Angelus practice in front of Dru, afraid that he was out of practice after a century with a soul. Despite that, Spike found the piece of wood in Angel's right hand menacing enough all on it's own.

"That's right. I saw the whole thing. I saw you hurt her. I saw you bite her. And to think, you actually convinced some people you were a champion," Angel said.

Spike stood up. "What can I say? You got me mate. After all I'm the only person in this room to bite or hurt Buffy. Oh wait. . ." he let his sentence trail off.

"Please Spike that was different."

"Which? The biting her? Or the hurting her?"

"I'm not here to argue semantics with you Spike."

"No, cause you might actually have to think then."

"Please Spike, YOU'RE accusing me of not thinking. Now who's calling the kettle black?"

"I'm not the one who's cunning plan relied on Harmony."

"Which reminds me, you owe me a new secretary."

"You HATED Harmony. Go talk to the bloody steno-pool."

"As far as last words go Spike, I don't think those are going to make the top 10 list." With that Angel leapt across the room, stake raised.

"Bugger," Spike swore as he dived out of the way. He'd hoped he could keep Angel talking for longer. He knew this time around he was outmatched. He couldn't even open the door to leave. He'd have to bash through it if he wanted to get out. And there was no way he could turn his back on Angel.

If Angel was determined to kill him, his only hope was to either draw the fight out until Buffy got back (assuming Angel hadn't set up something to delay her) or to send Angel through the balcony door into the sunlight, without ending up outside himself. And considering he couldn't use his hands, that wasn't going to be easy.
 
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