CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Buffy slept happily at first, resting completely before she woke up enough to drift lazily in and out of consciousness, the angry red glare of her alarm clock telling her it had only been three or four hours. Her whole body felt heavy, her eyelids in particular as she lay there, contemplating rising. It was almost like her blankets weighed so much more than they did; the tiniest movement was slowed.

The smell of leather and cigarettes were mixed in with the familiar, clean scent of her sheets, and she found it strangely comforting somehow. She was dimly aware of the leather coat tangled around her legs under the quilt, as she was the body lying next to her.

Spike was lying in the exact same position he’d been when she’d laid down next to him, and she suspected it actually hurt him too much to allow him to change his position in any way at all, except for turning his neck; his head was turned to face her. Sitting up carefully, Buffy checked over him. His chest wasn’t moving at all, so she guessed that he was still asleep. The light in the room was dim thanks to the drawn curtains, but she could see that his face was still in terrible condition. The burns were still raw, but she could see that none of the deeper cuts from his collision with the granite were open anymore; the scabs noticeable against the burnt flesh of his face.

She frowned sympathetically as his face twitched involuntarily, and groaned at the pain it caused him. She touched light fingers to the bandage wrapped around his eyes before starting to examine the skin of his neck. Apart from a few smaller cuts and burns from where the goo had dripped, his neck seemed to be relatively protected from the acid... a small mercy.

She pushed the blankets off of herself and knelt on the mattress, carefully adjusting her weight so that she wouldn’t disturb him. Taking a deep breath, she peeled back the quilt from his body. She couldn’t help the smile that formed when she noticed his hand still clenched his duster sleeve tightly. It was like it was his own badass, leather security blanket.

She hesitated for a moment before she directed her perusal lower and reaching for his shirt, unfastening the top two buttons carefully. She reached for the third and jumped as he grabbed her wrist. His fingers fumbled at first, but his head turned towards her as his hand found its grip.

“Slayer?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.” She leaned back. “Sorry, I... Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“I’ve been awake since you touched the bandage, love.” He replied, his lips curving in a light smile. He didn’t make a move to sit up, but he didn’t let go of her wrist. His thumb slid over the skin of her wrist, brushing back and forth over her pulse point softly, and she pulled her hand free, fighting back a shiver.

“I was... I was just checking your wounds.” She sat back. “I wanted to see if there’d been any improvement.”

“So, what’s the verdict, doc?”

“The... you’re improving.”

“No need to spare me the gory, pet.” Spike unbuttoned his shirt, letting her peruse the damage. “How bad is it?”

“Well...” Buffy sighed, “The cuts are healing, closed. But there’s a lot of damage, Spike. The... goo... it did a lot of harm. I mean, these bruises will heal up pretty fast thanks to that vampire healing trick.” She ran a hand over one of the larger bruises, snatching her hand away as she felt him inhale in pain.

“But the burns?”

“The burns... they’ll take a little longer. I’ll talk to Willow about ways to reduce any scarring, but it’ll be a while before your face is, well, your face again. How’s your leg feeling?”

“A little stiff, but it’ll be fine.” He told her, bending the knee carefully, “Must have landed on it or something.”

“Right. Well, Giles won’t expect us until later, so if you want to sleep some more, you can. I should probably go see if Mom needs anything.”

“You still tired, pet?” Spike struggled to sit up, and Buffy helped him with a hand on his back.

“Nothing I can’t manage.” She assured him, “Sleep deprivation kinda comes with the job.” She joked, before looking at him. “Maybe I should, uh, check your... check your eyes. The bandage should be changed anyway.”

He stiffened for a moment before nodding. Grabbing the bandages on the cot behind her, Buffy moved so she was perched between his legs, reaching hesitantly for twashe one wrapped around his face.  She tossed the used cloths towards the bin and peeled off the gauze carefully.

Vampire healing really could rival that of the Slayer, was her first thought; the swelling around the area had already gone down significantly, but the burns around his eyes were still more severe with the rest of his face. His eyes were still closed, and his eyelids were raw. She ghosted a fingertip over his eye, and his lips parted.

She dropped her hand into her lap, and he leaned forward slightly for a moment before leaning back again. Clearing her throat, Buffy bit her lip.

“Can you... Can you open them?”

There was a heavy pause for a moment before Spike nodded again. His head bowed before he forced his eyes open and raised it again, facing the Slayer in front of him.

Buffy’s breathe caught in her throat. He’d opened his eyes, except instead of meeting the piercing blue gaze she was used to, she was met with a literally blank stare. She could see the outline of his irises, but that bright blue that she was so used to was covered by a film of bloody white.

And when she saw those eyes move to meet hers, she got up, ran out of the room, and threw up in the bathroom sink.