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Buffy slept for two days and halfway through a third before she began to show signs of waking. Spike, sat next to her on the bed, watched as her back arched away from the mattress with languid, unconscious sensuality, her lean muscles flexing as a soft purr rolled from her throat. A grin tugged at his lips; that was a part of vampiric nature the Council had never told him about, and he found it thoroughly adorable.

Her eyes slowly blinked open, the closed blinds making the residual glow of the hallway’s lamp the only source of light. It gleamed on her delicate skin, the marks that had before covered her entirety now fading after the first proper rest in years. She stared at him for a minute with a warm, satisfied smile on her face. Spike smiled back, reaching out a hand to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face.

At the contact, she tensed and leaped backwards, only to fall to her knees, not noticing her nakedness. She hadn’t eaten for days, and her vision blurred as the demon focussed on the heady aroma filling the room: Slayer. Her mouth watered, her face automatically shifting as the purr changed to a menacing growl.

The tall youth stared at her version of a game face. The eerie, haunting silver of her eyes seemed softer than gold counterparts, and he marvelled at the smoothness of her brow. When she curled her pouting lips back on a snarl, he could see the dainty fangs. If it wasn’t for the dangerous grace that she seemed to radiate, he would’ve been reminded of an angry kitten.

Holding up his hands, he made an attempt at placating her. “Easy, pet. S’just me, remember? Spike.” Cautiously he extended the long, silk robe they’d bought her to wear for now.

A brief struggle that was displayed on her open face seemed to take place before her eyes faded to their normal green. She gave a wary but apologetic shrug as she slipped the cool material over her body, hiding it from his disappointed eyes. “Sorry. I’m hungry and you smell good. Um, in a ‘I want to eat you’ way. Or… or a ‘blood now’ way. I’m just going to shut up now.”

Spike grinned again. He bet that if she could blush, she would have been. “There’s blood in the fridge, luv. It’s human, from the hospital.”

Buffy followed him through Wood’s house, absorbing the simple yet comfortable furniture. A lump formed in her throat when she thought of her own home, but she swallowed around it and pushed the memories away. She regained control of her thoughts when the sudden, mouth-watering tang of blood filled the room. Without waiting for him to heat it, she gestured at Spike. He threw the bag and she caught it effortlessly, turning away from him before tearing into it.

The first touch of the cold liquid on her tongue was like heaven itself. A low, guttural moan of absolute rapture burst from her throat; Spike had to stifle the urge to think of her groaning like that in other situations. She devoured three more packets of blood before finally feeling full, her shrunken stomach gurgling to warn her that she’d make herself ill by gorging.

Embarrassed by her voracious appetite and pretty darn gross eating habits, she wiped the tiny trail of blood from her chin and shifted back to her human face before turning back to Spike. He was watching in amazement as the remaining wounds on her visible body parts healed before his eyes. When his questioning stare turned to hers, she let a half-smile curl her lips.

“They only fed me on pig’s blood twice a week. Human blood would’ve meant I healed quickly, and they couldn’t have that.”

Her still slightly husky voice wasn’t bitter, though it verged on being so, merely resigned. Turning, she made her way to the couch, Spike watching the gentle, womanly sway of her hips beneath the shimmering green silk of the robe. Clearing his throat, he moved to sit in an armchair near her, subtly bringing his duster to cover the impressive bulge forming in his now too-tight jeans.

Buffy cocked her head in a strangely animalistic gesture, her eyes curious as they rested on him for a long moment. “So, England? My Watcher was English.”

Spike smiled at her encouragingly. “Yeah, London. Moved to Sunnydale when I was Chosen, ‘cause of the-”

“-Hellmouth.” Buffy finished for him. Seeing his puzzled look, she continued. “It’s a notorious one, here. That’s why the Order…” Her voice trailed off, and he could almost see the barriers forming around her again. Desperate not to let her hide from him, though he couldn’t figure out why, he cast about wildly in his mind until he found a totally random topic.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Startled by the change in subject, she stared at him for a moment before relaxing into the squishy couch with a moaning sigh that really didn’t help Spike’s problem. Giving him a grateful smile, she thought for a moment before replying, absently twirling a long strand of hair around her finger.

“Green, I think. What about you?”

“Well, pet, never really thought ‘bout it before. Guess it’d be either black or red. ‘M not sure.” He gave a lopsided grin and a shrug.

“Black isn’t a colour! It’s a shade.” She rolled her eyes in a look that screamed ‘Duh!’ He couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked so cute with her nose all scrunched up and a mock-frown on her pretty face, her lips turned down in an irresistible pout. Yeah, her lips…

Buffy giggled at the glazed look on his face, before she spoke again. “What about family? Friends? Do you have any over here? Family, I mean, ‘cause I’m sure you’ve got tons of friends. Um, yeah.” She ducked her head and peeked at him from under her eyelashes and he laughed again.

“No family over here, but ‘ve got some close friends who’re like my family. They’re comin’ over later, actually. Haven’t seen ‘em for a while. What about you?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to bite his tongue, closing his eyes in mortification. Stupid git, ‘course she wants to talk ‘bout her bleedin’ family. They’ve only kept ‘er locked up ‘n’ tortured for the last decade. Opening his eyes, he saw the sudden sad wistfulness and the anguish on her face and felt ten times worse.

“My… my human family live in LA. Just my mom and my sister, Dawnie. The others, they don’t really have a home. Wherever the best hunting grounds are, they go.” She laughed bitterly. “And I don’t have any friends. Not anymore.”

Spike darted forwards, settling into the couch beside her and drawing her into his lap, cradling her against his strong chest as she shook with silent tears. He petted and stroked her hair, murmuring soothing nonsense under his breath as they rocked back and forth. Just as she began to calm, they both jumped as a shrill, angry squeal tore through the room.

“Just what do you think you’re doing with my boyfriend?”





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