a/n Once again beta’d by the wonderful ~*~Tasha~*~ who really is a gift. Don’t know where I would be without her. And thanks to Kara for the emails. They lighted up my days when I got frustrated. To everyone who reviewed, I love you all so much. Oh! And a BIG hug to the ladies from Elysian Fields. I just love the site *nods*

 

Spike sat in the middle of the cemetery for a long time.   The rain still fell heavily around him, though he wasn’t aware of it.  The stench of blood and sex still hung on the air, but the blood that covered Buffy’s body was being washed away.  All that was left were thousands of little cuts.

 

Spike cradled Buffy’s body, watching for the first changes of the turning. Even before she would awaken, the enhanced healing of the heightened vampire body would work its magic. Spike’ mind was going in circles.  He was afraid of what would be left of the Buffy he loved when she woke up.  Lost in his fear, he forgot all he had ever read and researched about turned slayers. 

 

Finally, Spike felt dawn approaching.  In a burst of speed, he got to his feet and carried Buffy toward his crypt. He was half tempted to remain outside with her to greet the sunrise that would allow both of them a final rest.  Only the thought that Buffy didn’t deserve the hell he had likely condemned her to pushed him to seek protection. 

 

He kicked open the door of the crypt as the first hint of the sun raised in the sky.  He pushed the heavy door closed and his Childe still cradled in his arms, made his way to the ladder that led to the lower level of his home.  He bypassed the ladder and simply dropped down softly on the floor, careful not to jar the precious burden he carried. 

 

Spike laid Buffy down on his bed before he headed to his makeshift shower to gather a clean cloth, soap and some water.  He wanted to wash away the liquids that still covered her tights.  Slowly, almost reverently, he washed away any hints of what had happened to her.   He didn’t take any time to admire the bare body that was spread on his comforter. He was trying to purify her and restore some of the dignity that the violation had taken from her.  He wanted her to wake up with as few reminders of the event as possible.

 

With one task done, Spike went to the chest that contained his clothes.  He grabbed a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers that Harmony stole the year before, in one of her attempts to dress him.  He dressed Buffy gently before carrying her to the armchair that stood in the corner of the room.

 

I need to change the sheets too, he thought.  Wouldn’t do to have the Slayer awake on old sheets.   Her new heightened sense of smell would probably pick up the scent of sex and of her blood.   Once the bed was clad in fresh black silk, Spike carried Buffy to the bed and tucked her in.   He knnew that the weight of the blankets would help her from being too disoriented when she woke up. 

 

Spike left the candles burning.  They were far away enough from the bed for Buffy to be safe.  He climbed the ladder, walked to his small refrigerator, and took an inventory of the blood that was left.  Need some supplies, he thought absently.  He grabbed a bag to replenish his own blood loss, blood that now coursed through Buffy’s body. 

 

Spike drained three bags, not taking the time to warm them first, before his demon was sated. He went back downstairs, and extended his senses to see if he could feel how close Buffy was to waking.  The link was tenuous at best, and it reassured him that he had time before she woke up. 

 

Turnings varied for each individual, from a few hours to several days.  Confident that Buffy wouldn’t wake up alone, he quickly changed his clothes.   The ones from earlier were soaked by the rain and her blood.  After he changed, he quickly made his way to the sewer’s access. He had people to see, a mother to reassure, and a Watcher to get yelled at by.

 

***

 

The trip to Revello Drive was a quick one.  Spike draped himself in the blanket he had thought to bring with him.   He dashed from the sewer entrance to the door and let himself in.   His inner William scolded Spike at the lack of manners being displayed.

“Mum? Nibblet?”

 

The Slayer’s mom was sitting on the couch.  She got up quickly as Spike crashed inside, faint smoke starting to rise around him.

“Spike? Have you seen Buffy?  I know she often comes home late, but she didn’t go to bed at all.  I’m worried.”

 

Spike’s mind swirled with how to tell Joyce what had happened.   He motioned for her to sit down again.

“Joyce… Buffy was attacked last night.  She’s at my place resting.”

 

“Is she alright?  Is she hurt?” Joyce asked, anxious and worried by the look in Spike’s eyes.  There was dread lurking in the blue depths, and the mother in her was terrified by what was implied in that look.  She had been going out of her mind with fear all night, and she had a very bad feeling that something terrible had happened to her little girl.

 

“She… it’s bad Joyce, real bad.  I… I found her almost dead last night, in the cemetery.”

 

“Was it a vampire?” Joyce whispered.  Some part of her already knew what Spike would say next.

“I don’t think so.  I didn’t go after them yet, but I will.”  Spike’s face went steely when he remembered the state Buffy had been in.  Someone would pay for what happened, and he fully intended to be the one to request payment.  Chip or not, whoever had done this was going to die.

 

“Spike?”  A timid sounding voice out of the usually strong Joyce Summers broke through the air with the unspoken question.

 

Spike came back to reality and took a deep breath he didn’t need.  “She asked me to Joyce.   I had no choice.  I couldn’t tell her no.” Spike spoke with a broken voice.   “I’m so sorry Mum.  I couldn’t let her go.”

 

Instant understanding filled Joyce, and the shock prevented her from seeing the look of abject misery on the vampire’s face.

 

“You turned her?” Dawn’s voice came from the stairs, accusing and disappointed.  Spike was her best friend, but she couldn’t believe he would have done something to Buffy that was her worst fear.  She knew he loved Buffy, but how he could have done this.

 

“I… she was dying.   I had no choice.   She asked me to.  I’m sure she did.  It’s going to be alright. I’ll ask the Watcher and the witches to make sure she has her soul when she wakes up.”   Spike stammered from one statement to the next in a rush to try to make them both understand that he hadn’t forsaken Buffy. 

 

“I’ll never leave her alone, unless she kills me.  She’s everything to me, I couldn’t just let her go, especially like that.”  By the last words tears were falling down Spike’s face, and his voice was barely a choked whisper. 

 

Finally seeing the pain and the fear in Spike’s eyes, Joyce stood up.  She wrapped her arms around him, and they both shared their pain together  She had always had a soft spot for this vampire.  His capacity to love astounded her, and she had seen his feelings for her eldest daughter. 

She tried to have faith that Spike made the right decision.

 

Dawn was angry, and she felt betrayed.  She marched back up the stairs and closed her bedroom door with a bang.  Sure, Spike was different, but Dawn knew firsthand that Spike was unusual for a vampire.  What if Buffy didn’t love them any more?  What if Buffy staked Spike when she woke up?  She buried her face into her pillow and cried.