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Willow looked up from the magazine she was reading when Jack stepped in front of her chair. She and the others had been taking turns sitting guard outside Buffy’s hospital room. Tara, Anya, and Xander were in the cafeteria finishing their investigation notes.

“Have you seen Devereaux? I went by his room but he’s not in there,” Jack inquired. For the past seven hours he’d been busy dealing with the press and handling the internal investigation into Forrest’s death. Once all the urgent matters at the agency had been taken care of, he’d rushed to the hospital to check on his agents.

Willow pointed towards the door behind her. “He’s been in there for a while,” she responded, returning her attention to the magazine. “Aside from some bruising and the burns from the stun gun, he’s fine. If he hadn’t been wearing his vest, it would’ve been another story. The doctors told him to rest, but he couldn’t stay away from her.”

Jack quietly slipped into the room and paused to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness. He spotted Spike slumped over in a chair beside the bed. “Devereaux, you’re supposed to be resting,” he chided, moving a stool so that he could sit on the other side of Buffy.

“I am,” Spike argued unconvincingly. He was holding one of Buffy’s tiny, limp hands and his eyes constantly darted between her still form and the beeping monitors. The stress of the last several hours was visible in the lines on his face.

Jack’s heart went out to the miserable young man before him. From the moment the two blondes had entered his office he’d known that the connection they shared was rare and precious. “Have you called your parents yet? I’m sure Dawn would like to come home as soon as possible.”

“I had Red call them a while back. They’re going to bring her back on the first available flight. I didn’t tell them anything about Buffy. I don’t want the Bit worrying too much.” Spike stared longingly at his cigarette pack lying on a nearby table. Now more than ever he desperately needed a nicotine fix. “I’ll have the whelp and Anya pick them up at the airport and take them to my house.”

Both men turned to the door when a matronly nurse bustled into the room to check Buffy’s vitals. She made a few notations on the girl’s chart and left, the door closing with a subtle click. “Has she been like this the whole time?” Jack inquired.

Spike shook his head slowly. “She woke up about three hours ago. The doctor came in and put her under sedation so that she’ll sleep through the pain,” he said, voice cracking on the last word. He quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “They were able to remove the bullet and stop the internal bleeding. The bullet only hit the spleen, but she lost a lot of blood and there’s still the risk of infection. Red said they lost her once in ambulance.”

Jack stood and walked around the bed. He put a reassuring hand on Spike’s shoulder. “She’s young and healthy. There’s no reason to believe she won’t make it.” Knowing that there wasn’t any more he could do to ease the other man’s mind, Jack quietly exited the room. Though not a religious man, as soon as he was in the hallway, he hung his head and mumbled a quick prayer.

“How’s she doing?” Tara inquired worriedly. She and the others were crowded around the doorway, each one anxious for Jack’s answer. Out of respect for Spike, no one else had gone in to see Buffy.

“No change. He said she was awake for a brief period of time. All we can do now is wait,” Jack answered, wishing he had better news. “He’s not doing much better. In a few hours, I’d like for you to take him home and make him rest. He’s no good to anyone like this.”

Xander snorted and rolled his eyes. “Like he’s going to willingly leave this hospital while Buff’s still here.”

“I didn’t say that he had to leave willingly,” Jack pointed out. “If there’s any change, call me.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the hospital. There were still reports that needed to be filed and he needed to make an appointment to speak with the director.

Reaching a decision, Willow stood and handed her magazine to Tara. She crept into the room and made her way to where Spike was sitting. She kept her gaze focused on him. She couldn’t accomplish her goal if she looked at the blonde lying prone in the bed.

“What are you doing here?” Spike asked roughly. Shortly after Buffy was moved from ICU, he’d requested time alone with his former partner. Until now they’d honored his request.

Willow stood in front of him, blocking his view of Buffy. “I came to see you.”

“Yeah, well, you came, you saw, now you can sod off,” Spike growled, pushing Willow out of the way.

The redhead stepped right back in front of him, her resolve face firmly in place. “I know you’re worried about Buffy, but the rest of us are worried about you, too. I heard what the doctor said; you need to be convalescing in a bed, not sitting up here in a hard plastic chair.”

“I can’t leave Buffy,” Spike protested weakly, tears once again filling his eyes.

Willow put her hands on Spike’s shoulders and leaned down. “I know you need to be here for her, but she’s not going anywhere. Just come home with us for a little while and rest.”

“What if she dies while I’m gone, Red? I can’t lose her again. I love her,” he sobbed, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. “What if I’m not there when she needs me? I’ve already let her down once. I won’t do it again.”

Willow awkwardly put her arms around Spike and rubbed his back soothingly. She grimaced slightly when he rested his damp cheek against her shoulder. She murmured calming words in an attempt to pacify the bawling man.

“Ninny,” a faint voice accused teasingly.

Spike’s head jerked up so fast he hit Willow in the chin. She yelped and pulled back, rubbing at the sore spot. Spike moved forward and grabbed Buffy’s hands. “Did you say something, pet?”

“Nancy boy,” her voice was weak and her breathing labored, but she was speaking. “You’re crying like a nancy boy.”

Seeing that Buffy was indeed awake and talking, Willow dashed out of the room to give the others the good news. She would also keep the rest from intruding so as to give the two a chance to talk.

Spike perched on the edge of the bed and tenderly traced the curve of her jaw with his fingertips. “You scared me.” He lifted her hands and placed a delicate kiss in each palm.

“Scared me, too,” she chuckled, wincing as acute pain shot through her side. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “What happened? I watched him shoot you.”

Spike explained that he’d regained consciousness shortly after she’d collapsed, as his Kevlar vest protected him from the bullet fired at his back. Though most of his short-term memory was gone courtesy of the stun gun, he was able to give a sketchy timeline of what had taken place. Forrest had been taken to the morgue while Buffy and Spike had been rushed to the hospital. Harmony had given a full confession implicating Forrest in the murders of her mother, father, and baby sister, as well as the evidence theft from Dru’s case. “She reached a deal with the D.A. If she tells all they’ll give her three consecutive life sentences,” he concluded.

Buffy silently digested all that he’d said and leaned back against the pillows. Now that the investigation was over, the mask of “Agent Summers” slipped away, leaving nothing but raw grief and pain. She felt as if she was going to choke on the despair filling every fiber of her being.

Spike watched as fat tears welled up in her hazel eyes. He gently moved her aside so that he could stretch out on the bed alongside his grieving friend. She was gathered up into his strong arms, her head resting on his chest. He lovingly stroked the back of her head while she cried out her misery.

An hour later, the torrent of tears had diminished into a small trickle. She sniffled slightly and Spike looked around for a tissue, locating a box on the side table and pulling out a few sheets for her. After wiping her eyes and nose, she settled back down against Spike’s chest and closed her eyes. “I heard you,” she murmured quietly.

Spike looked down at the blonde and quirked an eyebrow. “Which part? The whole crying like a nancy part, or the telling Red to sod off part?” He waited apprehensively for her response, hoping she hadn’t heard his declaration of love.

“You didn’t let me down, Spike. You had no way of knowing that Forrest would be in there or what his plans were,” she stated firmly, in a tone that left no room for argument. “He shot you because of me, so who let who down?”

Spike frowned at her logic and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “You rest now before I let the gang come see you. Bit should be here in a few hours and I know she’ll be dying to see you.” He started to get up, but a small, weak hand on his chest kept him in place. Understanding that she wanted him to stay, he shifted slightly and pulled the blanket up over the two of them. He let his eyes drift shut, reveling in the sound of Buffy’s slow, even breathing.

“I love you, too,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Several seconds later she was sleeping soundly in the arms of a dumbstruck, elated Spike.





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