Chapter Four

The two girls stared at the inert body on the table. It looked like nothing so much as the corpse of someone who’d been cremated, but pulled from the oven too soon.

“He’s not dust,” Dawn said finally.  “As long as he’s not dust, he can recover, right?”

“Recover and do what? Spend the next… however long it would take… suffering from burns over most of his body?”

Even as she argued with Dawn that the kindest thing to do would be to stake the creature while he was unconscious, Buffy was opening one of the containers of pig blood she’d bought.  Without warming it up, she dipped one finger in and smoothed it over the ragged lips. There was no sign of life from the vampire; the blood just sat on his lips and gradually soaked into the mangled flesh.

“Huh. Do you think that could help?”

“What?”

“Putting it on the wounds. Maybe it doesn’t matter how it gets into his body, just so it gets in there.”

Dawn looked dubious. “Don’t you think Spike might have mentioned that one of the times he got beat up or tortured?  All he ever wanted to do with blood was drink it, not bathe in it.”

Buffy sighed. “I suppose you’re right… it just looked like it soaked into…” She stopped and put another finger’s worth of blood on the ravaged lips. While waiting to see where it went, she dipped her finger again and let a few drops of blood drip onto the cut in the vampire’s side.  She frowned, moving her gaze from his torso to his face and back.  “I think it’s sinking in,” she said. “I’m going to keep trying.”

Suiting actions to words, Buffy began to apply the blood all around the oblivious vampire’s mouth, afraid to rub it in for fear of damaging the burned lips ever more, but making sure there was plenty coating them.  She stood back and surveyed her work. Except that he now looked like he’d been feeding, with the blood on his lips and a small trickle running down his cheek, there was no change.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, here! Give it to me.”  Dawn grabbed the container away from Buffy and inserted a small spoon.  She took the spoonful of blood and stuck it in his mouth, holding it there long enough to make sure it was pooling inside and not running back out. She waited, then tried it again. 

She’d put four teaspoons full of blood into the vamps mouth before Buffy gasped and squealed. “He swallowed! I saw his throat move!” 

Encouraged, she pulled the spoon away from Dawn, saying, “Let me!”

“Fine! It’s your pet vampire. You feed him.” Dawn turned away in disgust, washing her hands and watching as she leaned against the sink. Buffy filled his mouth again, waiting impatiently for some sign that he was swallowing. When a low snarl accompanied a slight opening of his mouth, she shouted in triumph and offered more blood.

It was soon evident that, although his body was responding to whatever was placed in his mouth, the vampire was still unconscious and unaware of anything going on around him. Not until his eyes opened and an amber glare fixated on Buffy’s throat did it occur to her that a starving vampire might not be in full control of himself.

“Down, boy,” she said. “Don’t make me have to hurt you… any more than you already are.”  Ignoring the steady growls coming from his throat, she began spooning more blood into him, smiling as the growls tapered off to more appreciative sounds.  There was only half a container left when he snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes.

“I think he’s probably full,” Dawn said when Buffy frowned and looked as if she was planning to force more blood down his throat. “If he’s really been starving, he probably can’t hold very much at one time.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense…” Buffy put down the blood and spoon with a resigned sigh.  “But that wasn’t enough to make him better,” she complained.

“Come on, Buffy. You know how long it took Spike to get over what the First did to him – and that’s with you sneaking him your blood when you thought nobody would notice….” She giggled when Buffy stared at her with wide eyes.

“How did you…?”

“I’m not as dumb as you think I am,” she said with a smug smile. “Plus, there was no way, as weak as he was, that he got back on his feet that fast on a diet of pig blood.”

At Buffy’s raised eyebrow, Dawn looked uncomfortable for a moment and then said, “When you were… gone. Spike would get drunk and go looking for fights.  Sometimes he lost.  I got pretty good at knowing how long it was going to take him to heal up enough to want to go out and do it again.”

Buffy nodded and gestured to the vampire on the table that was watching them with eyes that showed no trace of recognition. “So, how long do you think before he can have more to eat, Dr. Summers?”

Dawn shrugged. “Beats me. Spike got pretty thin, but he never starved himself. I could always get him to eat. He knew he wouldn’t be much use to anybody if he was too weak to fight.”

“But it was okay for him to go out and get himself mangled?”

“That didn’t happen every time,” Dawn said, defending Spike’s honor. “And he’d always be really sorry that he couldn’t be there to protect me, or to patrol with everybody. He just couldn’t help himself sometimes. It was the only way he could deal….”

A whisper of sound from the table brought their attention back to the injured vampire lying there. The eyes were still those of a demon, and they focused on Buffy with an intensity that was almost frightening. Until she noticed that they were actually looking past her to the blood and spoon she’d set down.

“Guess he’s ready for more,” Dawn said.

Buffy nodded and grabbed the spoon and container of blood. As the vampire opened his mouth far enough for Buffy to see that the inside was also badly damaged, she began spooning in more blood.  “It’s like feeding a baby bird,” she said as she waited for him to swallow and open again. The eyes flickered to hers, holding mingled shame and need.  “Sorry,” she whispered. “Just drink up, ‘k?”

There was only one spoonful left in the container when he once again shut his mouth and refused to take any more. Buffy tried to coax him to finish it off, but his eyes were closed and he’d become completely immobile again.  She straightened up and sighed. “Guess I’d better not push it. I don’t want him throwing up blood all over the kitchen.”

“Ewwwwww. And on that disgusting note, I’m going to my room to watch the telly. Hopefully I can find something funny to wipe that little picture from my brain.”

“Wimp.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s used to blood and slimy demon guts and stuff like that. I have more delicate sensibilities.”

“This from somebody who used to try to make milkshakes with day old pizza….”

“I’m a creative cook,” Dawn said as she flounced from the room.  “See you in the morning, if your vampire hasn’t recovered enough to try to eat you before then.”
 
 “Hah,” Buffy muttered, staring at the still corpse-like body. “I could break him in half with one hand right now.”  The vampire opened one golden eye far enough to make sure she could see him glaring at her, then shut it again and went back to being dead.

She puttered around the kitchen, dumping out the already-congealing blood left in the container and rinsing off the spoon. She glanced at the filthy and ragged boots dangling off the table and shook her head.  With a quick glance to see if he was going to object, she snapped the laces and pulled the first one off. A groan from the owner of the foot made her slow down enough to see that there was burnt flesh inside the boots too. With a quiet, “I’m sorry,” she worked it off and found that the burns coincided with the holes in the boot.  When working on the other boot, she was able to guess where the painful spots were likely to be and she got that one off without getting any noticeable reaction from her patient.

Holding them away from her body, she carried them to the door and set them outside. She eyed the trashcan wistfully, but resisted the urge to throw them away.

When she returned to the table, she tried to tell herself that she was seeing some improvement in the still-inert body. Her optimism was rewarded when she saw his fingers twitch as he attempted to raise his hand. 

“Do you want something? Are you still hungry?  I have more blood.”
His mouth opened, but all that came out was an exhausted sigh. She watched curiously as he obviously tried to speak, then gave it up.  Buffy took his fingers in hers, trying not cringe away from the fragile skin there.  “Don’t try to talk. Just squeeze my fingers – once for yes, twice for no. Can you do that?”

A barely noticeable squeeze led her to ask, “Do you want more blood? I don’t want to make you sick, but you look like you haven’t eaten in…. Well, you look pretty skinny.  So, more blood?”  He squeezed her fingers again, more strongly this time, twice in rapid succession.

“Okay, so not hungry yet. What do you wan—” She stopped herself, remembering why they were using fingers to communicate. She blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know what else to do for you. I’m more used to hurting vamps than I am trying to help them.”

He made a small sound that might have been a bark of laughter, then winced and was still.  His fingers went limp in hers, causing a brief moment of panic before she realized that he’d just lost consciousness again. She dropped his hand and leaned over him, trying not to cringe at the mess that was his face.

“Listen, I’m going to go upstairs for a little while and shower and change, okay? I’ll be right back. Don’t try to go… I guess that’s not gonna happen, but just wait for me ‘k?”

There was no response, but she told herself he’d probably heard her and went up to her room.  She took a quick shower and changed into sweatpants and a loose shirt, putting warm socks on her feet in case the kitchen floor got cold. As she went back down, she checked the doors and turned off most of the lights, leaving just one at the foot of the stairs and the bright overhead light in the kitchen.

When she got back to the table, she saw that he had turned his head to one side and was squinting.  Quickly turning off the too-bright light, she lit the softer ones beneath the cabinets.  “Is that better? I didn’t think about the light maybe hurting your eyes.”

He made a sound that she chose to interpret as “thanks” and turned his head to stare at her.  “Why?” he croaked.

“I don’t know.” Buffy avoided his gaze, studying the floor intently. “I just thought… and then you saved Dawn and….” She glared at him. “Just take what you get and don’t make me think about what I’m doing,” she said.
He gave another one of those almost laughs, then moved one hand and gestured toward himself.

“You want more? Okay, give me a sec.” She took the other container out of the refrigerator and debated with herself before pouring some into a big mug. She put the mug into the microwave and let it warm while she returned the blood container to the fridge.  She got the spoon from the dish drainer and carried it and the mug to the table.

“Open wide,” she said, dipping the spoon into the warm blood. When the body temperature blood hit his tongue, the vampire made a sound that Buffy almost blushed at.  “Good, huh?” She coughed to cover her embarrassment. “That’s how Spi—nevermind. Here, open up again.”

By time he’d finished the mug of blood – a tedious process, one spoonful at a time – his face, while still scarred and oozing, was noticeably less gaunt. He shook his head lightly when Buffy asked if he wanted her to warm up another mugful.

“Thank you,” he rasped while she was rinsing the spoon and mug off in the sink.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder to see him watching her, his golden eyes softening into a dark blue as she looked at him.  The wrinkles smoothed out just enough for her to see how badly damaged his human face was. The scars were hard ridges across his cheeks and nose, and the open sores still looked raw and painful.

“I wasn’t sure I was doing something you’d thank me for,” she admitted. “It… you… the burns—they look very painful.”

He nodded his agreement, but grimaced in what she took to be an attempt to smile. “Hurts like a bastard,” he said. “I’m wearing my fangs more often than not. Seems easier to handle the pain when the demon’s in charge.”

“Then why…?” She gestured at his almost equally distorted human face.

“Thought if might be easier for you… getting that close to me. That you’d be more comfortable if—”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling to counteract the terseness of her reply. “It’s not the first time I’ve been that close to a feeding vampire.”

He blinked a couple of times, then sighed in relief and faded back into his vampire mien. “Right then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She cocked her head and studied him. “You look like you’re getting stronger.”

“A bit,” he said. “Don’t want to appear rude, but I think I’m going to take a little nap….” His voice trailed off as his eyes shut and he stilled.

“Great. He naps and I get to hang out waiting for him to wake up and want more food.”
 
~~~~~~
Movement near her head caused Buffy to stir and raise it from where it had been resting on her arm. She sat up, embarrassed to have been caught napping by the wide awake vampire lying only a few inches away from where her head had fallen.

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I dozed off. Are you ready for more blood?”

“If you don’t mind, Slayer.  I thought about trying to get it myself, but….”

“But you’d have fallen on your face and made a mess in my kitchen,” she said, giving him a wry smile. “Waking me up was definitely a better choice.”

She walked to the refrigerator and took out the last container of blood. “Guess I’d better hit the butcher shop again when it gets light,” she said, more to herself than him.  She poured blood into the mug and put it in the microwave to warm, turned around to find him looking at her with an expression that seemed very out of place on the face of a demon.  “What?”

He shook his head and said, “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He struggled to sit up, then surrendered to his body and settled for rolling onto his side.

“Don’t know why you’re doin’ this for me, but I appreciate it more than I can say.  As soon as I can hold myself upright, I’ll get out of your hair.”

Buffy approached the table holding onto the mug of blood. “Don’t think I’m going to let you leave here until I know you can take care of yourself,” she scolded. “I’m not sending you out there to undo—I didn’t give up a whole night’s sleep just so you can throw all my efforts away.”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know much about being a vampire, or about what Slayers are, for that matter, but I’m pretty sure that most people who do would think there was something very wrong with this.”

“I got over worrying about what ‘most people’ think when I was fifteen and had to set fire to my high school gym to get rid of a nest of vamps.” She looked from the cup to him, asking, “Do you think, if I hold you up, you can swallow this by yourself? It’ll go faster if I can just pour it in there.”

“Give it a try,” he said, but there was an undercurrent of doubt.

“You don’t think you can? Why not?”

“Hurts,” he said shortly. “Think I’m burned on the inside too.”

“Oh my God, I never thought about that. I mean, I could see that your tongue, and your voice is… I’ve just been hurting you more with every swallow, haven’t I?  I should have staked you, I’m just making things worse.”

“No. Don’t think that. You’re doing what you think is right, and I….” His voice trailed off as he struggled to get enough air to continue speaking.

“Shut up,” Buffy ordered in her best I-am-the-slayer-and-you-aren’t voice.
She slid her hand under his back, trying not to notice the way the damaged flesh gave under her fingers. As soon as she felt she could do so without pulling his skin off, she lifted his still-too-light torso until he was almost sitting upright. Setting the mug to his lips with her other hand, she watched anxiously as he obediently opened his mouth and allowed her to slowly pour the contents of the mug into his throat.  When he’d swallowed almost two thirds of the contents, something about the way he was so rigid against her arm told her the pain was becoming too much, even for the demon. She took pity on him and pulled the cup away.

“Are you okay?”

He rolled one golden eye at her, not bothering to waste any energy commenting on the obvious not-okayness of his condition, but managing to get the message across anyway.

“All right. Not okay, but is this working? If it’s too painful, say so, and we’ll go back to the spoon.”

“I’ll be alright,” he rasped out. “Just need to take a little break.” Now that he wasn’t fighting the pain of swallowing, his body trembled with the effort to remain upright.

“Relax,” she said. “I’ve got you.”

He nodded and slumped against the strong arm holding him up.

“Ready to try again? Before it gets all cold and yucky… and I cannot believe I’ve just suggested that warm blood isn’t yucky.”

He huffed one of his laughs and nodded again. When she held the mug against his lips, she accidentally bumped them against his fangs, drawing a pained gasp from the vampire.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m not used to vamps being so fragile. Even when they’re hurt.”

He quickly swallowed the rest of the contents, sighing when she took the mug away and lowered him to the table.

“Taken care of a lot of hurt vamps, have you?” he gasped.

“Stop talking. And yes. Well, no. Only one. But he was always getting himself beat up or tortured, so…”

“Sounds like a right idiot,” he said, his voice a bit stronger, if still distorted.

“No,” she said, sending him a fierce look. “He wasn’t an idiot. He was a… a hero. A champion.”