Turning from the ladder, careful not to extinguish the candle she’d brought from upstairs, Buffy gasped at the sight before her. Spike’s body lay on the floor, twisted in an unnatural pose and still as death. Copious amounts of blood pooled in the gritty soil under his head and clotted in his platinum hair.
"Oh god!” Buffy cried. “This is my fault. I made him do this! Who’s the monster now?” Leaving her question unanswered, Buffy quickly lit several of the candles she found scattered around the chamber. She then returned to Spike’s side, touching the back of his head gingerly to assess the damage. She was relieved to discover the bleeding had stopped and the blood was beginning to congeal.
Buffy knew that Spike was in no danger of dying, but losing so much blood would leave him very weak and vulnerable. She couldn’t just leave him like that. As gently as she could, Buffy moved Spike out of the pool of blood, laying him on the floor over a clean towel she found in an alcove. She then set about cleaning his wound using a basin of water she filled from Spike’s makeshift shower. Once she was sure the gash, though nasty, was indeed superficial, she sat back on her heels to consider her next move.
Now that she’d cleaned the gore from his face and hair, Buffy could see just how pale Spike appeared in the candlelight, pale even for a vampire. “He needs blood,” she thought. “He won’t heal unless I can get some blood into him.”
Buffy left Spike where he lay on the floor and climbed up the ladder. She searched through the ruins left behind after Spike’s drunken demolition derby until she found the refrigerator. He’d tipped it on its back but it was still plugged in. Buffy sighed with relief when she found two undamaged bags of blood inside, then frowned when she saw what was left of the microwave. Unfortunately, Spike had ripped the door off of it during his rampage. She spent a few minutes trying to make it work, but when she heard moaning coming from below she wasted no time, grabbed the two pints, and headed quickly back down the stairs.
Spike was still unconscious when she returned, but appeared agitated as if he were having a bad dream. He stopped moaning and seemed to calm as Buffy approached. She knelt next to him, putting her hand very lightly on his forehead. Without rousing further, Spike turned his face toward her and drew a long, slow breath, visibly relaxing as he did so. Buffy stayed very still, reassured that he was able to move, make noise, and breathe. “Okay, Spike,” she said aloud, “now I get to see if I can feed a vampire. Funny thing, they didn’t really cover this subject at Slayer school!”
Hefting one of the blood bags in her hand, Buffy worried its cool temperature would fail to tempt Spike in his weakened state. Bracing herself for the shock, she shoved the chilled bag under her shirt, placing it directly against her warm skin. Not prepared to heat two bags at once in this way Buffy placed the second bag in the pocket of her jacket, hoping that would be enough to take off the chill.
It was just as well the blood needed time to warm. Buffy didn’t have a clue how to go about getting an unconscious Spike to drink. “This would be a whole lot easier if you had your fangs out,” she said to his lifeless form. As she mused upon the challenge before her, Buffy’s gaze came to rest on Spike’s face. Now that she’d cleaned him up, he looked a little better. She could almost imagine that he was just sleeping, not out cold. Usually distracted by his constant chatter or his stunning blue eyes, she took the moment to take a good long look at the whole picture. Buffy was reminded of how she’d watched him when he was reading in the library. With a sigh she realized how much had changed between them in a short time. ‘Was that really just yesterday?’ she thought.
Once again, she took the opportunity to gawk at Spike. ‘God he’s gorgeous,’ she admitted to herself. ‘Don’t suppose there’s any point in pretending he’s not the hottest thing on two legs. It was more than obvious last night he’s attracted to me, I don’t know why I bother telling myself it wasn’t mutual? I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him.' His lips look so soft, almost feminine. 'Whoa, Buffy, that’s way too much thinking.'
Buffy shook herself. ‘Just focus on the problem, Buffy,' she reprimanded herself. 'Gorgeous or not he’s got to drink some blood, and soon. Forget kissing, how am I going to get him to eat?'
Trying hard to focus on the task at hand, Buffy scanned around her for the first time. Since finding Spike sprawled on the floor, she’d been so busy she’d barely registered the rest of the room. Now she looked, open mouthed, at the sumptuous surroundings. The rich furnishings created the feeling of a bedchamber in a Victorian manor. Thick hangings covered the walls in one corner, forming an alcove for a four-poster bed. The bed’s cream-colored comforter was piled high with fringed, brocade pillows. Candles bathed the whole space in a warm glow, which was reflected in the polished mahogany of a heavy dresser, an armoire, and a large trunk.
Buffy crossed the room to the trunk, not sure what she was looking for, and lifted the lid. While not surprised to find it full of weapons, Buffy was amazed to see each item was immaculately polished and arranged carefully inside the deep trunk. Before exploring the cache further she regarded the room again, noting that everything in it was clean and orderly. ‘The vampire makes his bed,’ she thought. ‘Who knew?’
Turning back to the trunk, a dagger caught Buffy’s eye. Handling it by its intricately carved handle, Buffy examined the knife closely. The blade was honed to a razor-sharp edge. She smiled remembering what Spike had said the first time they’d met. Something about weapons making him feel “all manly."
Holding the dagger in one hand, Buffy looked down at Spike’s still form. She suddenly knew how she to get the unconscious vampire to bare his fangs. ‘Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner,’ Buffy thought. Turning the bag of blood to place its other side against her skin, she knelt back down next to Spike. With a sigh she drew the dagger’s blade across her palm. When the red line had grown to the thickness of a piece of yarn she tipped her hand to place a single drop of blood on Spike’s lips. Then she waited, holding her breath. “Come on, Spike,” she said softly. “You know you like Slayer’s blood.”
Tbc…