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A full week passed and Spike had still not returned.
When a further two days came and went it had gotten to the point where Buffy was trying so hard not to let the worry drive her mad that she was driving everyone else mad instead.
Giles had to unplug his phone at one point, to stop her constant calls.
Giles was sure Spike was alright, and that the job he and Anna were working on was just taking a little longer than expected. His real concern was that Spike wouldn’t be able to get Anna to them in time for her to help before the next full moon. The vision Spike had had, of a werewolf springing at Buffy’s back, began to haunt Giles’ dreams.
He had faith in Spike’s ability to save her; he just fervently hoped the ability wouldn’t have to be tested.

Xander popped round to see Buffy a few times, so she had someone to alternately rant at and cry on. Though Xander initially felt horror upon realising how much Buffy obviously cared for the Bleached-pain-in-his-ass, he knew he wouldn’t be a very good friend if he didn’t support her in her time of need. Buffy was clearly hurting over more than just Spikes absence, but, as she wouldn’t talk about it, Xander just tried to be there for her. Though she wasn’t always good at showing it Buffy really appreciated that.

Willow called a few times for updates on whether Spike was back with Anna yet. She said she'd caught whatever Oz had had, and was going to lie low for a few days. After hearing how ill Willow sounded Buffy agreed that it would be for the best.



Buffy’s feelings alternated between wishing Spike was back, and relief that she hadn’t yet had to face him.
She was constantly worried about him, but she was sure, as she had been in the past, that if something really bad had happened to him she would know. She had no basis for believing this, there was no possible reasoning for it. She just knew, as surely as she knew her own name, that if Spike were ever to dust she would know. And she'd probably dust the next instant. Well, not dust, but die. Whatever.


Buffy was more worried that he was deliberately staying away, that he hated her for what she'd said, or not said, and was never going to come back. The numbers on the keypad of her phone were wearing out with the amount of times she’d started dialling his number, only to stop on the last digit. Spike had told Giles he wouldn’t be contactable by phone, but what if he’d only said that because he hadn’t wanted to hear from her?
What if he wasn’t off fighting werewolves at all, but had run away to some distant place to forget all about her, and then taken up with some tarty, big boobed bimbo who knew how to speak French and do that twirly thing with her tongue? Some ho who probably had a tongue stud, didn’t care about souls, and didn’t have to get her hair all full of grave dirt on a nightly basis?

After Buffy went to the mall three times to get her tongue pierced (actually making it into the chair before running away on the last time) she began to feel that insanity wasn’t far off. She retreated to the safety of her house, and settled for calming her fears by brooding in a way so horribly 'Angel' it had her shuddering.





The full moon was only four days away when a knock on the door brought Buffy out of her dream like state. She had woken unusually early that morning, and hadn’t been able to shake off the ansty feeling that something was wrong since then. She had repeated the mantra ‘you’re an irrational slayer” so many times to herself it had lulled her into a kind of sleep.

Buffy was reluctant to leave the comfort of the couch, but as the knocking continued, and became more frantic, she began to get a awful gut squeezing feeling in her stomach, and she ran to answer it.




The woman standing outside looked flustered, more than a little worried, and was quite badly out of breath. She seemed immeasurably relieved to see Buffy. “Buffy Summers?” It is isn’t it?”


Buffy took in the woman opposite her. If she’d had to guess she would have said she was about her moms age, or maybe a little younger. She was short, and had a pleasant plumpness about her. Her mousy hair was streaked with grey and pulled into a messy bun that hung haphazardly to the side. After seeing the mixture of warmth, and old sorrow, in the woman’s chocolate coloured eyes Buffy felt an impulsive liking for her.

“Yes, I’m Buffy. Can I help you?”


The woman nodded her head almost manically. “Yes, I hope you can. My name is Anna.”


Anna looked at Buffy expectantly then, but Buffy had yet to connect the dots.


“I’m Anna? Spike’s friend?”


Buffy’s first impulse was to laugh. This was the ruthless and deadly werewolf hunter? This kindly rounded lady, who looked like somebody’s mom, or a favourite teacher?
Buffy extended her slayer senses and was surprised to feel the power that radiated from Anna’s form. It was only then she noticed the slightly torn and bloodied state of Anna’s clothing. She could also make out a nasty bruise under her tufty bangs.


Her heart constricted painfully as she realised something. Anna was here, so where was Spike? Buffy couldn’t feel him, and Anna looked so concerned and she was here and Spike was not and oh god oh god oh god.

Buffy hadn’t realised she’d fallen down and started to hyperventilate until she felt Anna’s arm, strong and warm around her back.

Anna eased her off the floor and led her to a couch. She sat beside her and rubbed soothing circles between Buffy’s shoulder blades while trying to calm her breathing down.



“Dear, Spikes alive, well, as alive as he gets anyway. Please calm down, please. I didn’t mean to scare you by turning up alone.”



Buffy’s words came out as a choked sob, “He’s alive?”



Anna nodded, but bit her lip and Buffy remembered that she had come to the door asking for her help. “Where is he?”


Anna looked at her straight. “He’s in my car, I parked in the next block over so you wouldn’t be able to sense him” she sighed, “Spike was very insistent about not coming to you, he seemed to think you wouldn’t want him here, but then he passed out and I wasn’t sure what else to do...”



“He passed out?! Why? What’s wrong with him?”



Anna suppressed a wince at the hysterical sharpness of Buffy’s words, but took her hand gently and tried to urge her to sit back down on the couch she’d leapt from. “I won’t lie to you Buffy; he’s in a bad way. The pack we were dealing with was stronger, and more cunning, than we’d anticipated. I’m good at my work, I’ve hardly ever had even a scratch before, but this time... if it hadn’t been for Spike, I would be dead now. Several times over. But in the process of saving me, he got very badly hurt himself.”



Buffy’s heart didn’t think it could take the strain of the combination of dread, anguish and sheer panic. “How badly hurt?”



“He wasn’t bitten, thank heaven, but he was... ripped up, quite a bit. He’s lost so much blood his body can’t start repairing itself, and he passed out a few miles from Sunnydale. It’s his body’s only way of coping with the pain. He'll be alright, but he needs to be seen to quickly”



Buffy jumped back off the couch. “He needs blood. Now.”


Anna nodded, “Yes, but he wouldn’t let me stop anywhere on the way back, said we had to get to Sunnydale as quickly as we could, and he’s very hard to argue with, even in the state he was in. By the time he’d passed out I had no idea where the nearest butcher was, or where else I could get blood. I'm a demon you see, so my bloods no use at all. Even though he was against it I thought it would be best to bring him to you, I was able to follow the draw of slayer strength right here, get here quickly. If Spike was right, and you don’t want to see him, could you just draw me a map of where to go to get blood? I think at this point it would have to be human blood to make much of a difference.”



Buffy shook her head violently, “NO, don’t take him away! I want him here. I have blood.” Without waiting for a reply Buffy rushed to the door, “I’ll go get him, where is he?”



Looking at Buffy, and seeing the way she was acting, Anna had a sudden and startling revelation about the nature of the relationship between Spike and the Slayer. The way he’d spoken of her had made it obvious to Anna that his heart was lost, but he hadn’t seemed to think that Buffy felt the same way. Boy was he ever wrong.

“No dear, I’ll go and get the car, bring him here. If you could maybe sort out a clean needle and thread, some bandages, some clean water, and some disinfectant if you have it? We’ll have to get the wounds stitched up before we try to give him any blood, otherwise it won’t... well... stay in.”


Buffy tried to ignore Anna’s last words and immediately went off to get the things asked of her. Anna let herself out and sprinted, with surprising speed and agility, to where she’d left her car and its precious cargo.


The few minutes that passed in waiting for Anna to return felt like the longest of Buffy’s life. She hastily made a make shift bed on the couch, with clean sheets and put all the medical bits and pieces within easy reach while mentally preparing herself for seeing Spike.


Buffy had a sudden, exquisitely painful awareness of Spikes presence, which got stronger second by second. She could hardly bear feeling him so strongly and not seeing him.


She was pacing frantically back and forth on the drive when Anna pulled up. Buffy almost ripped the rear door off its hinges in her haste to get to Spike. What she saw made her body run cold in a mixture of horror at his injuries and a dark and overwhelming anger aimed at the creatures who had caused them.


Anna gently moved Buffy to one side, so she could reach in and pick up Spike. She acted as though he weighed nothing at all and carried him carefully back into the house before laying him down.


Buffy followed, fighting the irrepressible urge to put her own arms around Spike and never, ever let him go.


Now Buffy could see all of him the extent of his injuries was even worse then she’d realised. She usually had a strong stomach, but she felt like being sick. She was close to choking on the sobs that kept threatening to erupt from her throat.


Spike was shirtless, and what was left of his jeans was torn and crusted with a mixture of dried and caking blood and mud. His chest and arms had been ripped all over, clawed apart, exposing the muscles, the bones in places and a frightening lack of blood. His legs weren’t in a much better state, and his hands had become a mass of bloodied pulp.


His face though, his beautiful face, had escaped almost unscathed, apart from some claw marks to the cheek. His skin was a deathly grey green and every sharply chiselled feature was a study in pain.


Seeing that Buffy was in too much shock to do anything, Anna began the long process of cleaning, stitching together and bandaging each of Spikes wounds. Buffy, without being aware of it, had gradually moved closer to the couch, until she found herself sitting on the arm.


She ran a gentle, trembling fingertip across Spikes cheek, and was amazed to see some of the lines of pain etched around his closed eyes soften. She continued to stroke him, loving the feel of his skin beneath her fingers, but hating how cold it was.


Anna was done far sooner than a human would have been. Spike was a patchwork of bandages and gauze, but he was whole.


“He need’s blood now, as soon as possible. He’ll start healing properly once he has some in his system.”


With difficulty Buffy tore her eyes away from Spike’s face and looked at Anna, noticing for the first time how weary she seemed.

“What with the fight, and all the speedy racing down here, and the Spike fixage, you must be about ready to drop. Why don’t you have a rest? The spare rooms all made up, you could get cleaned up, get some sleep. I’ll sort out Spikes blood.” Buffy rested her hand protectively against his cheek.


Hearing the affection mingled with fierce determination in Buffy’s tone Anna smiled in relief. “That would be nice, thank you.”


“The bathroom and the guestroom are just upstairs. You don’t mind if I don’t show you the way do you? I don’t want to leave him”


Anna gave a small smile of understanding. “I’m sure I’ll find everything I need dear. Would you wake me, when he comes around?”


Buffy nodded in assent.



Once she was alone with Spike she gently eased his torso up enough that she could slip onto the couch, and lean him so his head was resting on her chest. Being careful not to pull on any of his stitches she leant over him so her lips were achingly close to his and her hair fell softly against his bandaged chest.

She spoke to him, in a low intimate voice. She knew he was unconscious, but she also knew that on some level he could hear her.

“Spike, I missed you.”
Suddenly all the heaviness she had been carrying in her heart broke free, and she couldn’t stop talking.

“God I missed you so much. I don’t know why, when you’re always teasing me, or kicking my ass, or telling Giles how ‘soddin worrin’ it is I don’t know what a stupid snafflapaff demon is. But I missed you so much it hurt. Like really hurt. All you’re little cuts? They’re nothing to how I feel when you’re not here. When you’re all better me and you are gonna have to have a proper chat Mr. One where you can actually respond.
I know, I know, I’m not one for the words, and I get all avoidy Buffy at the thought of ‘actual’ conversations, but we need to have one. Cause really, soul or no soul, I don’t think I could live without you. Pathetic huh? Don’t go broadcasting that though ok? Otherwise every vamp and demon that wants to kill me will come after you, and you’re clearly not as kick ass as you think you are.
And I definitely prefer you conscious, insults, innuendoes and stupid sexy smirks (which should totally be illegal by the way) aside.
You’re never allowed to scare me like this again either, or you will have one seriously ‘brassed off’ slayer to deal with. You’d better be listening to me Spike, and not playing some stupid punk music in your head.

I offered you my blood once before, do you remember? And you were being all stupid and noble and British about it, said you wouldn’t take it when you needed it, you’d only take it when I wanted you to have it. Which really makes no sense y’know?
Well, right now, you need my blood to get better. And more than anything in the world, even more than having a pair of killer designer boots, I want you to get better.” Buffy turned her head, brushing her lips against Spikes before lightly pressing her neck onto them.

She whispered her next words softly, “I want you to bite me Spike. I trust you, I know you won’t take too much.”


Spike was unconscious but he heard his slayer, he could have been dust scattered on the wind and he would have heard his slayer. His demon heard her too.

It should have been impossible for him to go into game face. He had no strength left, he was practically drained, but her blood called to him like a siren. She called to him like his life force.

Buffy felt Spikes bones shift, though she couldn’t see him.
She’d been hoping so desperately that he’d bite her that she’d forgotten to brace herself for the pain.

The pain never came.

His fangs slid effortlessly into her, and the feeling of such an intimate connection had Buffy trembling with unexpected need. The first pull he took of her blood pulled on something deep inside her, something rapturous and wonderful .

It was like coming home.
It was like finding an anchor in a storm.
It was a slow and steady building to bliss.
If the Masters bite had been a touch of hell, this was a touch of heaven.


An orgasm slammed into her with tidal force, knocking the breath out of her lungs.


Spike had only taken a few pulls of Buffy’s blood when his game face receded. Buffy felt his tongue swirl over the wounds to seal them and the shivers it inspired boosted her orgasm further.


With her breathing heavy Buffy turned her head slightly so that her trembling lips were, once again, brushing against Spikes.


This time his eyes were open. The blue of them was fathomless, blinding in its intensity.
One look at the expression is his eyes and the last lingering doubt in her heart, the doubt waving the ‘Only a soul=good’ banner, disappeared.


Spike’s voice was husky, but the sound of him breathing her name onto her parted lips had her coming again.

Her own unsteady voice spoke in ways words never could. “Spike. You’re home.”


Chapter End Notes:
this might feel like the story that never ends, but the end is nigh!!



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