CHAPTER FIVE 
He found Willow in the kitchen, dispensing herbal medicines along with food and drink. She raised an eyebrow at Spike and moved to his side.
 
“Do you need me?”
 
“Don’t think so, but you might want to check in on her before you turn in for the day. She told me she needed to sleep, so I let her, but she’s only had the juice you gave her and about half a bottle of water.”
 
Willow shrugged. “Buffy’s been a slayer for a long time, and she’s been hurt bad before. She probably knows more about what she needs than we do. But I’ll look in on her,” she added when he started to frown. “Where will you be?”
 
“Dunno. Feel pretty good from that bit of slayer blood I had before I got it stopped. What I’d really like is to go out and dismember whatever did that to her. But I don’t guess my sun allergy is going to allow it, so I’ll just look over the supplies Buffy brought with her and then sit with her till she’s ready to go back to her own room.”
 
Willow nodded, giving him a sideways glance. “What makes you think she’s going to want to go back to her own room?”
 
“It’s where she belongs,” he said in a tone that said he wasn’t interested in more discussion. Willow ignored his tone, saying as she began to walk out, “Just so you know, I don’t think she’s going to see it that way.”
 
 
XXXXX
 
 
Willow peered in the door of Spike’s room, having already decided she wouldn’t wake Buffy if she was still sleeping.  When she saw her sitting up and struggling to reach the other juice bottle, she dashed in and grabbed it.  Shoving it into Buffy’s hand, she scolded, “You shouldn’t be moving around yet.  Let one of us take care of you.”
 
“You’ve got other girls to worry about,” Buffy muttered as she sank back against the headboard with a sigh of relief. “It’s not like there’s a bell I can ring for service.”  She upended the juice bottle and drained it, handing the empty back to Willow. “Thanks.”
 
“You’re welcome. Do you want more?”
 
Buffy shook her head. “That’ll hold me for a while. I’m feeling a lot stronger. A little more rest and I’ll be ready to—”
 
“You’ll be ready to go back to your own room and rest there,” Spike’s growl preceded him into the room.  “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence any other way.”
 
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. “Who died and made you God?”
 
“You came closer to it than I ever want to see again. That makes me… maybe not God, but definitely the bloody boss!”
 
“You. Are. Not. The. Boss. Of. Me.”
 
He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he sank into a chair. “No one knows that better than me, Slayer,’ he said in a soft voice. “If I ask you nicely instead of yelling, will you please just do the smart thing?”
 
Willow looked back and forth between them, and said, “I’m just going to….” When they paid no attention to her, she walked out the door, saying to herself, “… to leave now.”
 
“And the smart thing is to get out of your room and your bed?” Buffy’s voice was carefully controlled as she schooled her face into a non-committal expression.
 
“It is. Best thing for both of us.”
 
“Were you always this stubborn?”
 
He snorted. “Hello, Pot. My name is Kettle.”
 
Buffy shook her head, wincing when it jiggled her sore arm. “No. No I’m not. I can take a hint.”  She tossed the linens off and swung her bare legs to the side of the bed, getting to her feet before even Spike’s speed could stop her from rising.  He did get there in time to catch her as she collapsed.
 
Swearing in several languages, he ignored her weak protests to place her back on the bed and pull the covers up over her feebly kicking legs.
 
“Goddammit, Slayer, stop all your wiggling around and stay put!”
 
“If you don’t want me here, I don’t want to be here. Let me go!”
 
“You can’t walk yet. You haven’t eaten anything and you’re too weak to get yourself there.”
 
“Then you can carry me to my own room!”
 
“Not lettin’ you out of here till I know you’re getting better,” he growled. “So just shut up and have some more water.  And use it to wash down these iron pills.” He held out two little round pills in one hand, and the water bottle with the other.
 
Muttering to herself about miserable bastards who thought they could tell her what to do, she grabbed the pills and threw them into her mouth, then snatched the water bottle from him and gulped down as much of it as she could. She handed it back, then sat back with her arms across her chest – holding the injured on with the other hand.
 
“Does it hurt?” Spike asked, watching her face as she gingerly rubbed the bandage. “Do you want some pain meds?”
 
She sighed and closed her eyes as she tilted her head back. “I think I need some food. Raw meat would be good.”
 
He snorted. “Would you settle for a piece of chicken while I go back and see what I can find in the kitchen?”
 
She waved her free hand. “That’s fine. Give me the chicken and see if you can find me something else. Protein and carbs – sugar would be good.”
 
“Are you going to stay put?”
 
She opened one eye and glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere. If you don’t want to stay in the same room with me, you can go sleep in my room.”
 
“If I don’t—” He growled. “I plan to stay in the same room… but only as long as I have to, to make sure you’re gonna be alright.”
 
She didn’t answer him, just sat up straighter and took the chicken from him, gnawing on it without looking at him again.  With another growl, he left the room, leaving the door open.
 
“Don't you trust me?” she shouted.
 
“No!” he yelled back as he disappeared down the hall.
 
Buffy finished the few bites of meat on the chicken leg and threw the bone across the room and out the door. She whimpered when the action pulled on her still-healing wound, peering under the bandage to see blood oozing out again.
 
“Dammit,” she hissed, holding her hand over it and hoping it wouldn’t bleed through to where Spike could see it.  She hadn’t counted on his ability to smell fresh blood, though.
 
“What the hell did you do?” he growled, pushing a cart with covered dishes on it with one hand, and holding the gnawed chicken bone in the other. He tossed the bone on the cart and went directly to the bed where he yanked her hand off the bandage, his nostril flaring.  “What did you do?” he repeated.
 
“Turns out throwing something isn’t as much a one-armed activity as I thought it was,” she muttered. “It’ll stop in a minute.”
 
“It’ll stop right now,” he said, unwinding the bandage and holding her arm to his mouth. He passed his tongue quickly along the scar, pausing at the place where the skin had pulled apart. “Here it is. Just a little tear.”  He licked it quickly, nodding when the bleeding stopped and it began to close again.  “Now try not to do anything stupid until I get it bandaged again.”  He gave her a glare as he set the arm down and turned to get another bandage.
 
“Can I be stupid then?” she asked, more meekly than he would have expected.
 
“No!”
 
“Spoil sport.”
 
He didn’t respond, coming back with more gauze and bandages. Still not speaking, he wrapped the wound again and stood up. He silently pulled the cart closer and took the covers off the dishes.
 
“What do you want first?”
 
Buffy looked over the selection and jerked her chin toward the middle plate. “The hamburger, please. And the chocolate milk.”
 
Spike waited until she’d wriggled her way back against the headboard, then set the plate on her lap. He opened the carton of chocolate milk, inserted a straw, and set that close enough for her to reach with her good arm. He recovered the other dishes, and sat down to watch her eat.
 
Buffy wolfed down the hamburger and drained the milk carton before attempting to speak again.
 
“That felt good,” she said, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”
 
“You’re welcome,” he said, placing the empty plate and cardboard milk carton on the cart. “What else do you want?”
 
“I want to be better… now.”
 
“And I want to get a suntan. Guess we’re both out of luck, Slayer.”
 
“Seems like.  Is everybody sleeping now?”
 
“Mostly. A few girls taking turns as guards, just in case.”
 
“Help me decide what to eat next, and then you can get some sleep too,” Buffy said, not looking at him.
 
He didn’t respond except to look through the food and find a roast beef sandwich. “Here you go. With mayonnaise, just the way you like it.”
 
“You remember that?”
 
“Apparently,” he said. “Don’t really know where that came from. Just knew it. Here, take this too.” He handed her another bottle of water, then pushed the cart a short distance away.
 
While Buffy tore through the sandwich, washing it down with gulps of water, he took off his boots and stared at the floor.
 
“Don’t even think about it,” she said quietly as she moved over closer to the far side of the bed. “It’s your bed.”
 
He nodded and went to close the door, standing with his back to her for a moment.
 
“Spike? We can do this.”
 
“Know we can, Buffy. Jus’ not sure if we should.”
 
“Contrary to what you might like to believe, I am perfectly capable of sleeping in the same bed without molesting your body. You’re not all that, you know.”
 
He snorted. “I suppose I’m not. And you’re too hurt to be molesting me anyway. Reckon it’s safe then,” he said, lying down on his side and putting the pillow over his head. “Night, pet.”
 
“It’s 10 am,” she responded as she slid down until her head was on her pillow. “Not night.”
 
“Always have to have the last word, don’t you,” he growled, pulling the pillow down around his ears.
 
“Yep.” With that less-than-brilliant comeback, Buffy shut her own eyes, made sure she wasn’t close enough to touch him, and fell into a healing sleep.
 
XXXXXXX
 
Buffy slept until late afternoon, getting up to use the bathroom and drink some more water.  She stared at Spike’s inert body, then looked at her own tee-shirt clad body and sighed. Opting not to attempt to go to her own room for clothes wearing nothing but her underwear and Spike’s shirt, she carried the water bottle back to the bed and sat up to finish drinking. She carefully remained far enough away that wouldn’t accidentally touch him.
 
While she had the time, she gazed at him, unable to really see anything but a shape under the linens and the pillow still over his head.  Cocking her own head, she gave serious thought to what he’d said about his soul, trying to decide how she felt about it. While she’d long since acknowledged that she’d been in love with him when he was soulless, she also still cringed at the thought that she could have been.
 
With a sigh, she shook her head at herself, knowing that between Angel’s complete personality changes between souled Angel and unsouled Angelus, and the lessons the Council was still instilling in new slayers about the importance of recognizing that vampires were soulless, and therefore never to be trusted, she was more than a victim of her own prejudices. Prejudices that were exactly that – pre judging of individuals based on whether or not they had a nebulous quality with which many thousands of horrible human villains through the centuries had been blessed.
 
She was lost in memories of evil humans she’d known and non-evil demons, as well as ambiguous ones like Dracula. She reminded herself that both Angel and Spike had their souls when the First was controlling them, and that Angel had his soul when he became Twilight and tried to end this world. Spike without his soul had been easier to trust than Angel, or Amy, or….  She blinked back to the present time to see Spike staring at her.
 
“Oh. You’re awake.  Hi.”
 
“So are you,” he replied. “Feeling better?”
 
Buffy nodded. “Not quite ready for round two with a crowd of ubervamps, but, yeah. I’m feeling a lot stronger. I was just about to check the wound – want to do the honors?”
 
He sat up, rolling shoulders in lieu of a full stretch.  “Sure. Let’s see it.” He carefully unwrapped the bandage, smiling when he took off the gauze and saw only a trace of old blood on it.  He switched the light over the headboard on and scrutinized her arm, poking the new skin gently.
 
“Looks pretty good, pet. Slayer healing at its best.”
 
“Not to mention vampire blood clotting saliva – or whatever it is that goes on when you decide to heal something instead of ripping it open.”
 
He flinched at her description, but nodded. “It has its uses,” he said. “Especially if you have a … friend… who’s always getting herself cut up.”
 
“I probably don’t want to know what other uses it has,” she said, shuddering, then smothering the urge to ask if he’d healed any wounds for Faith.
 
“You don’t,” he said tersely. “And I didn’t.”
 
“Didn’t what?”
 
“What you didn’t ask me. If I’d tasted Faith.” He sighed. “I was planning to as soon as I got enough pressure on it to get the bleeding slowed down, but then one of those wankers tried to remove my scalp with something heavy and it was lights out.”
 
“How did you know what I was thinking?” She glared at him, narrowing her eyes even more when he laughed.
 
“You’re pretty easy to read sometimes. ‘specially when you’re wonderin’ about something, but don’t want me to know it.”  His laugh tapered off to a bemused smile. “And other times I haven’t a bleedin’ clue what’s going on in that brain.”
 
“Hmmph!”
 
Buffy flexed her arm, wincing when the action pulled on the recently closed wound.
 
“Hey! Don’t be undoing all my hard work there!” he said as he got up. “I’m going to wrap that up again so you don’t accidentally pull it open or bump it on something tonight. Just stay put.”
 
“I can walk to the bathroom, Spike. I’m not crippled.” She suited actions to words and followed him, silently holding out her arm for him to put a protective bandage on. “You do good work,” she said as he tucked the ends in neatly. “Maybe you have a future career as an EMT or something.”
 
He just rolled his eyes at her and shook his head. “I can see that now – me trying to stop bleeding by drinking from some poor sod, and then ending up with pieces of wood sticking out all over my body.”
 
Buffy giggled. “I just meant the bandage-wrapping part, but yeah, you’d be like a secret miracle cure, as long as nobody saw you.”
 
“Speaking of people seeing things…” he said as they went back to the bedroom. “I’m going to go get myself some much less tasty blood and you some more liquids and food.  Do you want me to ask Willow to bring you some clothes, or do you want to take your chances going down hall in my shirt?”
 
 “That’s what I was thinking about while you were sleeping – that I probably shouldn’t leave your room in my underwear. One of your little hero-worshippers is liable to try to kick my ass.”
 
He snorted. “Doubt any of them are that stupid, love, but there’s no sense makin’ it look like something it isn’t.”
 
“Right.” Buffy’s expression faded from amusement to a blank mask. “Because it isn’t.  A something.”
 
“Exactly.” He didn’t meet her gaze, just pulled on his boots and left the room, taking the cart with him. “I’ll be right back.”
 
 
 
In spite of his words, it was Willow who came in next, carrying another roast beef sandwich and two more bottles of water. She had a bag hanging on her arm which she dropped on the bed after Buffy had taken the food from her.
 
“So – as fashion-forward as you look in Spike’s old tee-shirt, I thought you might want your own clothes.”
 
“You thought I might, or Spike told you to get some clothes for me?”
 
Willow sighed. “I know you’re probably both too beat up for smoochies, but I kinda hoped staying in the same room all day might—”
 
“Nope. He’s still acting like he wants nothing to do with me. Except when he’s yelling at me for not resting or eating or taking care of my arm.”  Buffy looked into Willow’s sympathetic eyes. “He’s convinced I won’t want him without a soul. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
 
“So it is gone, huh? I thought that might be it. I’m not that great at reading auras, but I thought it might have gone missing. But it’s Spike. He didn’t have one for all the time we knew him except that last year in Sunnydale. Why is he so sure it matters to you?”
 
“Because he’s an idiot?  I don’t know. But he does.” She raised her eyes again. “I’m afraid we’re going to finish this fight and he’s just going to disappear before I can—”
 
“Maybe he won’t. You’ve got some time. He might think he’s all supervamp now that he’s had some of your blood, but I don’t think he’s 100% yet, and you obviously need at least another night and day before you think about heading back out there. He’ll come around.”
 
“I hope you’re right, Will.” Buffy stood up and stretched, picking up the bag of clothes. “I’m going to take a shower before I put these on. Thanks for bring them.”
 
“No problem. Just come on out to the lobby when you’re ready – if you feel up to it.”
 
“I feel fine. Can’t really use the arm yet, but I’ll be able to by tomorrow. I think I might give the girls a lesson in using rocket launchers. If I can get a few more of them out of Graham, we might be able to take out a lot of those creepy things without anybody having to get close enough to get hurt.  If nothing else, they could clear the way for an assault on the hellmouth.”
 
“’K, see you in a little while.”
 
 
Buffy stepped into the shower and noticed that her bloody jeans and the other bloodsoaked things were gone from the tub and the blood had all been washed away. “Guess Spike or Willow took care of that while I was sleeping,” she muttered as she let the warm water flow over her head and face. 
 
As good as the hot water felt, she forced herself to wash her hair and scrub her body quickly, turning it off as soon as she’d rinsed.  She wrapped one towel around her head and used the other to dry off. Along with the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower, she saw that the hotel had included lotion and even a moisturizer and toothpaste on the sink. She found a toothbrush in one of the drawers, as well as deodorant, a comb, and a hairdryer. 
 
Feeling much more like herself once she was dressed and properly groomed, she opened the door and let the steamy air out into the room. She was somewhat disappointed not to find Spike waiting for her, but put her boots on and headed for the lobby where she found him surrounded by the local slayers while Willow and the girls who’d come with them were spread out around the room. As soon as Buffy walked in, Rachel broke away and came up to her.
 
“You look great! How do you feel?”
 
“I feel fine,” Buffy said, smiling at the genuine concern in the other slayer’s voice. “The arm’s not completely healed yet, but I’ll be ready to go by tomorrow night. And I have a plan for tonight.”
 
She huddled with Rachel and Willow, gesturing for Spike to join them. She ignored the glares from “his” slayers and waited for him to sit before she repeated what she’d told Willow about using the rocket launcher.
 
“Here’s what I’m thinking – we’ll go out tonight, but not very far, and try to draw a couple of them to us. I’ll need a couple of girls who are comfortable with guns—”
 
“Why not let the soldier boys make themselves useful?” Spike interjected. “The girls can keep them safe enough while the ones who actually know how to use those weapons do the firing. If they can clear the way, and we have the explosives ready, we can be in and out and back to safety without risking a lot of lives. Then all that’s left is the clean-up of whatever uglies didn’t get caught.”
 
Buffy stared at him, her mouth open. “That’s… that’s just…”
 
“Brilliant? Amazing? “Common sense?” Stop me when I get to the right word, Slayer.” He smirked at her as she flushed and nodded.
 
“Brilliant works,” she said. “Okay, so, tonight we rest. I’ll call Graham and tell him what we’d like to do. He can ask for volunteers tomorrow.”