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I Know You II by slaymesoftly
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Chapter Twenty-seven

With a last touch on his shoulder, she got up and walked through the gaping doorway into the room where the Master’s minions had dispensed the blood drained from their captives. She halted, reaching automatically for her stake and then relaxed as she realized she was looking at a rag-tag army of former blood donors. They faced each other silently, the small blonde slayer and the humans who had been held captive while their life’s blood was taken from them. They were still clutching the crossbows, stakes and now-empty water pistols that they had found in Buffy’s bag.

Buffy looked at the piles of dust covering the floor of the big room and smiled. “Good job, guys. You can keep those bows if you want. You never know when you might need them again.”

One of the men who had been among the last to leave nodded his gratitude, then asked, “Where’s your vampire?”

Buffy gestured to the other room. “He’s in there, but he’s hurt pretty bad. I came out here to find him some blo-” She stopped, embarrassed to say that she was looking for blood – probably theirs – to feed Spike. Instead of being angry, the man nodded again.

“Whatever he needs,” he said. “You two saved us. If blood we’ve already lost can help one of you, you’re welcome to it.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Buffy quickly went to the dispensing area and found the containers that were waiting to be filled. It took her three tries to find a vat that still had blood in it, but she finally was able to fill several containers with the not-yet-congealing blood. As she tried to juggle all the containers, she found people stepping up to help. She reentered the Master’s lair followed by several of the released prisoners, each one holding a container of blood for their vampire savior.

They all halted, gasping, as they saw Spike’s bloody and battered body lying on the stage, looking exactly like a corpse.

“He...he looks dead,” an older woman whispered.

“He is dead,” Buffy said quietly. “Has been for over a hundred years. But if we can get some of this blood into him, his demon will be okay.”

The humans who weren’t familiar with vampire physiology frowned, although the cop nodded again as though he understood all about animated corpses. Buffy knelt beside Spike and tried to raise his shoulders and head so that she could pour blood into his slack mouth, but she had trouble doing it with one hand. Suddenly the other woman was beside her, taking the blood from her hand and holding it ready as Buffy pulled Spike into a slumped sitting position and tilted his head back. The woman gasped at the damage to Spike’s formerly handsome face, but bravely held out the container as Buffy reached for it.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured. “Drink this for me. I know it’s not the good stuff, but that will have to wait until we get home. Come on, Spike, swallow. Please?”

With a sigh of relief, she saw his throat working and the blood that she had watched pool in his mouth disappeared. She quickly tipped the container up and poured more in, smiling as he began swallowing in earnest. When the container was empty, she set it down and smiled gratefully as another one was placed in her hand. By the time Spike had finished the new one, his eyes were open and he was blinking in confusion at the concerned human faces staring at him.

He glanced up at Buffy and managed to say “Wha-?”

“You’ve got fans,” she said with a grin. “They wanted to help. Here, have some more.” She put another container to his lips, smiling when he raised his hand and held it himself while he gulped the contents. With a groan, he managed to put the empty container down and draw himself up to a more erect position.

“Feeling better?” The concern on the faces of the watching humans caused an unfamiliar sensation in his unbeating heart. A sensation he hadn’t felt around a strange human in over a hundred years.

He nodded, afraid for a moment to trust his voice. When he thought he had control, he cleared his throat and said, “Much better. Appreciate the help.”

“No sweat, dude. You saved our lives.” There were nods of agreement from the small group surrounding them.

Buffy jumped to her feet when Spike pushed himself up and tried to stand. “I don’t think you can do that yet,” she scolded. “You’re going to wait here until Dawn comes back with the car.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, leaning on her for support. “Ready to go again.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and exchanged a look of feminine solidarity with the other woman.

“Fine, let’s try walking into another room first and then we’ll see about anything else. ‘K?”

He nodded and began limping towards the doorway, more grateful than he let on for the strong support under his arm. When he faltered, the other woman was suddenly on his other side, smiling timidly as she offered her own shoulder as another crutch. Spike gave her one of his patented smiles, and was rewarded by her blush and giggle. Buffy’s soft growl and pinch on his ass reminded him that flirting openly with another woman when you were involved with a Slayer probably wasn’t a good idea, and he turned his head back to her.

“So, Little Sis is comin’ back for us?”

“That’s what she said. She’s going to drive us home.”

“Where’s home?” The man’s voice contained nothing but curiosity and Buffy answered readily.

“We live in Winterset. And I need to get home. I have to be at work tomorrow.”

Before anyone could express their surprise that heroes had jobs just like everyone else, they reached the bigger room. As Spike and Buffy walked slowly into the room, a smattering of applause greeted their arrival; a smattering that grew into a genuine ovation as the humans took in the battered condition of the two people who had engineered their escape, provided them with weapons, and apparently defeated the Master and all his minions.

Buffy blushed, hiding her head in Spike’s shoulder as he shook with gentle laughter.

“This is embarrassing,” she whispered.

“Nothing more than you deserve, pet,” he whispered back. “Enjoy it while you’ve got it.”

The applause tapered off and they were all able to hear the sound of a car horn coming from right outside the front door.

“That’s our ride,” Spike said as he and Buffy walked slowly out the door to the accompaniment of offers of hospitality and suggestions that they come back soon. Waiting right outside the door was their car, a grinning Dawn at the wheel.

“Let’s go home, Spike,” Buffy said, opening the back door and helping him into the car. As soon as she saw him lying comfortably on the seat, she got into the front with Dawn and gestured expansively. “Home, Jeeves. And step on it.”

“Yes ‘m,” Dawn nodded. “Home it is.”

The ride home was swift and uneventful. Buffy turned around several times to see how Spike was doing, reassured when he smiled at her every time. Although his eyes were inevitably closed when she turned around, they always opened immediately and sought hers. As soon as they had exchanged soft smiles, he closed them again and she turned back to the front.

When they got home, Dawn parked as close to the front door as she could and waited while Buffy opened the door and helped Spike out of the back seat. The several pints of blood, as well as the enforced rest of the ride home seemed to have done wonders for the vampire’s condition and he managed to walk up the front steps with a minimum of assistance from Buffy.

They entered the house and stood awkwardly in the front hall while Dawn and the portal full of people all stared at them curiously. When no one spoke, Dawn finally asked, “Would you rather do the visit thing tomorrow? You guys look pretty wiped out.”

Buffy smiled at her in relief.

“I really would,” she said, grateful that Dawn had picked up on what was wrong. “I need to get cleaned up and try to get some sleep before I have to go to work tomorrow – and Spike needs more blood and some more rest.”

“And a shower,” he put in, plucking at his tattered and blood soaked clothes.

“That too,” Buffy agreed with a small smile. “I don’t want to be washing blood out of everything in the house.” She pushed him towards the bathroom, saying, “Go on. You can be first.”

He nodded and headed for the bathroom, stopping once to turn and look at Dawn with eyes that looked more like “her” Spike than she’d yet seen from him.

“Thank you, Little Sis,” he said simply. “We owe you.” He glanced towards the two slayers and two vampires standing within the portal and smiled at that Buffy. “Thanks to you too, love, and your friends there.” He nodded at the vampires and winked at Faith before limping into the bathroom.

“You’re welcome, Spike.” Dawn smiled at his use of the nickname he had obviously settled on for her. “You’re very welcome.”

When the door had closed behind him, Buffy let the tiredness show as she slumped against the wall. She looked at her own blood-covered clothes ruefully.

“I guess I can’t touch anything either,” she said. “Most of it’s Spike’s blood, but I seem to have a lot of it on me too.”

“The Spike inside the portal raised his eyebrows and wiggled them at her.
“Maybe you should join him in the shower, pet. You could wash each other off and—”

He stopped abruptly when his Buffy punched him in the stomach. From outside the portal, Buffy shook her head. “Still a pig, huh? Even with the soul?”

“Still a pig,” her older self agreed. “Some things just don’t change.”

“I guess that’s a good thing, then.”

“It can be.”

The two blondes smiled at each other.

“Okay,” Dawn said briskly. “We’re going back to Sunnydale and let you two get some rest. Leave me a note when you want us to come back ...or...nevermind.” Without elaborating, she stepped into the portal and waved her “good-bye.”

Buffy’s “Thanks, guys. We really appreciate the saveage,” echoed into the empty space left in the wake of the loud noise. She blinked at the now-empty hallway for a few seconds, then shook herself and walked towards her bedroom. She was almost to the door when she stopped, biting her lip with indecision, then spun around and followed the sounds of running water.

Spike was standing in the tub, his eyes shut as he let the hot water pouring over his head wash away the dried blood and weariness. Only his vampire hearing allowed him to hear the whisper of Buffy’s clothing as it joined his on the floor. He smiled, eyes still closed and waited for her timid hand on the shower curtain. When she just stood there, hand clutching the plastic and heart rate increasing, he opened his eyes and met hers, smiling warmly.

“Come on in, love. There’s plenty of room for two of us. Or were you just planning to stand there and ogle me all night?”

Blushing, she slipped inside the curtain and stepped into the tub. Without speaking again, Spike moved her under the running water and let it rinse the blood out of her hair and off her face. When her hair was thoroughly wet, he took the shampoo out of her hand and poured a liberal amount onto her wet scalp. His gentle massage as he worked the shampoo into her hair had Buffy closing her eyes in bliss. She relaxed and allowed him to move her limp body around as he rinsed her hair, applied conditioner, massaged that through and then rinsed again.

He picked up the bath gel and put some in his hands, which he then began to run over her body, spreading the gel and massaging her tired muscles. For long minutes, Buffy allowed herself to drift into a sensual haze as his hands traveled around her body, soothing and stimulating at the same time.

With a guilty start, she came to her senses, remembering which one of them had been the more seriously injured that night. She pulled herself out of her Spike-induced lethargy and reached for the gel and the sponge.

“My turn,” she whispered, beginning to stroke the sponge over his smooth skin, taking care to clean the wounds gently so as not to irritate them. He obediently stood still while she washed his body, closing his own eyes and enjoying the soft slide of the sponge and Buffy’s hands. When she had done all she could, including reaching around him to do his back, bringing their naked bodies into contact and temporarily interrupting her ministrations while the vampire took advantage of the position to kiss her breathless, she dropped the sponge and used her hands to gently stroke the suds over his rapidly hardening cock.

When she realized the effect she was having on him, she glanced up apologetically and began, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen – I know you’re probably too—“

“I’ll never be too anything to not react to those magic little hands, love,” he growled, placing her hands, which she had dropped to her sides, back where they’d been.

“Oh, okay,” she giggled. “That’s good, cause I think I might have missed a spot...right here...”

Her rapid rubbing of the imaginary spot of blood was rewarded with a heartfelt groan and a hard push into her hand. Her rubbing became slower, her strokes firmer as she watched his face contort with passion. When he suddenly pulled her against his body, she felt his release spurt onto the skin of her stomach while he held her in place. He continued to hold her after his hips had ceased jerking, his hands stroking her back while he buried his face in her herbal-scented hair.

Buffy was feeling very pleased with herself. Instead of the vampire leaving her a quivering, limp heap, she had reduced him to gasps and purrs. She allowed him to turn her around so that the warm water could wash down her stomach, rinsing off the evidence of his release and sending it swirling down the drain. He pulled her back against his chest and ran his hands down her body, cupping her mound and murmuring in her ear.

“How about you, love. Are you too tired for...”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but simply parted her folds and began to stroke her with strong talented fingers. When she was whimpering and her hips were moving with his hand, he changed his motion and began rubbing in small circles until she squealed and shuddered against him. He held her firmly as her weakened knees gave way, smiling at her sigh of completion. He held her loosely until the water began to cool, then reluctantly let go.

While Buffy leaned down to turn the water off, he pushed the curtain back and picked up a towel, wrapping her in it as she stepped out. His plan to take his time drying her off evaporated when he saw her shiver and realized how cold it was in the poorly insulated house. Instead, he pulled the towel off and rubbed her briskly until she was dry, then pushed her towards the bedroom saying, “Go get one of those fuzzy nighties on, pet. Don’t want that pretty body to catch a cold.”

While Buffy ran to find her flannel pajamas, Spike quickly dried himself off and followed her into the bedroom, sliding between the cool sheets and waiting for her to join him. Which she did immediately, curling up into his waiting arms and nuzzling his bare chest. Her flannel-clad body soon had the space comfortably warm, and they drifted off to sleep as thought they had been sharing a bed for years.

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