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Buffy hated to cause him anymore pain, but he was right, he couldn't help her fight if he didn't feel comfortable. If being comfortable meant enduring some pain, she knew Spike could take it. After all, what's a little searing pain after nearly being incinerated...twice?

"Sorry, Spike," she hissed in sympathy, as she watched his face contort in agony as the cloth brushed lightly against his traumatized skin.

"It's all right, Slayer," he groaned, "A little pain," he gritted his teeth as Buffy guided his feet into the trousers, "cleanses the soul," he was calmed a bit by the rhythm that sounded through him as he leaned against her as she slid the trousers past his hips.

The little respite he had was shattered when she knelt in front of him to tie the drawstring at his waste. The demon inside was pounding in his skull; the man was dizzy with desire, her pulse pounded in his brain. The scent of her was driving him mad. He knew, that, if he hadn't been in such a weakened state, the demon would have overtaken him, and that night in her bath would have happened all over again.

He stopped that train of thought. No, he thought, you're the better man. You can control the beast. It doesn't rule you. He stilled her hands, "Pet," he said, gently, hoping she wouldn't notice how close he was to falling over the edge of reason, "best to let a man do up his own trousers, yeah?"

She looked up at him, with shimmering green eyes, "You're sure," she asked.

"It doesn't take all that much energy to tie a knot, Love," he sighed, "I think I can handle that much on my own."

"Well," she hesitated, but something in Spike's eyes told her not to push the issue, "if you're sure," she said, as she stood up.

Spike nodded, slightly, grateful that she had let the conversation drop, "Certain sure, Pet," he told her, "Thank you," his voice was suddenly weaker than he would have wanted it to be, an indication of the tumult going on within, " for trying to help."

"Don't thank me, Spike," she shook her head, at the way their roles had been reversed. There was a time, in the not-so-distant past that she had been the bruised and battered one, and he was her nurse. The only difference was, her injuries hadn't been as obvious, to anyone but him. "I haven't even begun to repay the debt I owe you."

Spike marveled at the tiny woman who held so much power, yet could be as fragile as fine crystal. He loved her so much it was hard to find the words to express just how much, "Buffy," he said, "whatever it is you think you owe me, please, consider the account paid in full."
****************************

There was a knock at the door. Angel looked at bedside clock, still an hour until sundown, this was unexpected. Anyone who knew he was here, knew better than to disturb him until just before sunset, when he would leave to escort Drusilla to Spike's apartment, for his next feeding. The only reason, he could think of, why anyone would be here, at this time of day, was if there was some kind of emergency.

The dread, of that thought, alone drove him to the door, "Is there something wrong with Spike?" he asked, as he opened the door.

Holland Manners shrugged his shoulders, "I honestly couldn't answer that question, Angel," he said, coolly, "But, isn't it strange how great minds think alike? Spike is just who I wanted to speak with you about," he said, as he pushed his way, without much resistance from a shocked Angel, into the apartment.

"If anything's happened to him," Angel fumed, "If you've done anything to him, I swear," Angel growled, grabbing Holland by the lapels of his Brooks Brothers suit, " I will find a way to bring you back to life, just so that I can have the pleasure of killing you all over again."

"My, my," Holland said, calmly, barely phased by Angel's show of force, "such fatherly protectiveness. How the worm has turned," he chuckled.

Angel tossed Holland against his leather sofa, "You came to talk," he bit out, "so talk. Then, get out, you disgusting parasite."

"Name calling does nothing to foster goodwill, Angel," Holland said.

"There's nothing good about any of this, Holland," Angel snapped.

"Ah," Holland said, smugly, "That's why I like you. You don't fuss around, right down to business. Now that we've gotten the idle chatter out of the way, we can get down to why I'm here."

"And, why is that?" Angel hissed.

Holland shook his head, "It's your wayward grandchild, Angel. It's Spike. Something has to be done, before he ruins everything we've built."
**************************

Buffy wanted to make him as comfortable as possible, as she placed him gently on his small bed, "You okay, Spike?" she asked.

Spike tried, unsuccessfully, to fight the wave of bitterness that swelled in him, at the indignity of being carried around, like a child, "I'd be better if I didn't have to have you cart me the five feet from my loo to my bed," he grumbled.

"Spike, I really don't mind," she said, patiently, "And, anyway, Drusilla will be here," she looked at her watch, "in about forty-five minutes. So," she winked at him, and put on a fairly decent imitation of his speech pattern, "no worries, mate."

Spike groaned, and covered his eyes, while at the same time trying to control the loud guffaw that threatened to take control of him, "Buffy, please, don't mutilate the English language any further."

Buffy stopped speaking. She was so quiet that Spike had to look at her, just to be sure she was still in the room. When he did look at her he found her grinning like the Cheshire cat, bouncing like a coiled spring, "I knew I could get a grin," she said, "Don't try to hide it. I know you want to laugh. Go ahead," she said, "This may be a one time offer. You may never get the chance to laugh at me again, without getting a punch in the nose. So, live it up, while you can."

"Oh, Slayer," Spike sighed as he let the laughter roll through him, "you say the sweetest things."
***********************

"So you see the dilemma," Holland said, "He's a wildcard. Unpredictable. The firm has tried to plan for every contingency here; but he's the one factor that's fluid in this equation."

"You don't control me," Angel hissed, eyeing him menacingly.

Holland smiled, an eel's smile, "That's where you'd be wrong, Angel. We've had, any threat you would have posed, to our operation, neutralized for some time. Now, don't you think it's about time you escorted the lady, Drusilla, to her engagement for the evening?"
*******************************

"Just how will you keep Drusilla from knowing that you're going to help me prepare to fight her, Spike?" Buffy asked.

"That's easy, Pet. All I need do, is remind myself how Angelus took advantage of your desperation and grief, to try and claim someone whose heart doesn't belong to him."

Buffy's eyes widened, " Spike, I told you, I did that so that you wouldn't hurt me, when you were out of your head," her voice was gaining pitch, "Please, Spike, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry at you, Buffy," he assured her, "Angelus, however, receives no such courtesy," Spike looked at her stricken face, "Buffy," he said, "he took advantage of you, and of me. He used our mutual grief to keep us apart, for as long as he could. Then, when he couldn't keep us apart, he thought he would use the vampire pecking order to do it. All in the guise of being the benevelent Angel he thinks he is. Makes me want to heave," he said, with disgust, "Before this is over, he'll know who the real champion is around here, if he doesn't know already. You can be sure of that, Pet," Spike said, as he gave Buffy a reassuring kiss, "Now, no worries," he winked, "Put your game face on, Pet. Drusilla will be here soon, and she can be cool as a snake. Best not to get bit."
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