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sorry I'm a bit late...
Chapter 13


“What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?!” he asked her loudly—alright, so he yelled it at her.

“I was just…” she tried to think up something reasonable to say.

“Just what?” he asked angrily, “Trying to get yourself killed? Because I’ve gotta say, if that was the plan, then you were doing a hell of a job.”

Suddenly that funny feeling from before was back and Buffy had to blink her eyes quickly to keep them focused on Spike. She’d been walking away from Spike’s crypt, barely a few feet away really, when the feeling started: it was like her body was still in the same place but for some reason her head—or whatever tit was that kept you in your head, figuratively of course—decided to start floating up and back. She’d been knocked out before so she knew what that felt like, but this was different. It wasn’t as sudden and it waxed and waned enough that when she’d come up on the vamp she’d thought that maybe it was gone enough for her to take him.

Of course the spots she was currently seeing all over everything—spots like the ones that sometimes showed up on your picture when you got them developed; bright colors but dimmed; different shapes and sizes and colors—they couldn’t be too good either.

“I’m the Slayer,” why was it harder to say each word? “I had to do it. I think I need to lie down,” she finished quietly.

“You didn’t hit your head did you?”

“No, I did not hit my head,” might have hit everything else, but she had not hit her head.

“God, Buffy….when was the last time you ate or drank anything?”

“I uh…little bit at dinner.”

“Come on then,” he leaned down to pick her up, but she tried to stop him, asking what he was doing. “Oh shut up you stupid bint and let me do this.” This time she let him pick her up.

They were four or so feet away from his crypt when he felt her moving again. “You can’t do it, you know!”

“Do what, pet?”

“Turn me.”

Spike didn’t even answer just laughed lightly in a way that absolutely infuriated her; what was he doing acting like he was so superior to her? She was the Slayer dammit—yeah, she reminded herself, the Slayer who had to be saved by a vampire and was currently being carried back to said vampire’s crypt, by the being himself.

Spike laid her down on the sarcophagus that was currently doubling as a bed. She tried to sit up to see what he was doing, but he had two strong hands on her shoulders pushing her back down as soon as she even moved.

“No getting up.”

Now normally she’d never listen to Spike, but right now he seemed to know what he was doing while she, on the other hand, wasn’t sure she’d even be able to get up and walk out the door without passing out.

“I’m only not doing it because I can’t. Not because you said so,” she muttered needlessly.

“Wouldn’t expect any less,” he didn’t sound mad. Why didn’t he sound mad? Why did he sound…amused?

“Quit laughing at me!”

“I promise I’m not laughing at you, pet. Just love how bloody stubborn you can be; but as long as you stay put, I don’t much care why.’

She couldn’t see what he was doing, moving her head from the comfortable position it was in on the pillow didn’t seem all that important, but she could tell her was in his ‘kitchen’; and he was making a lot of noise.

“What are you doing?” she asked impatiently.

“Do you always have to know what’s going on? You’re sick, luv. Let someone else do something for you without being so suspicious.”

“But I should be extra suspicious because I’m sick; you could be trying to poison me or something.”

“Why,” he asked, sounding truly curious, “would I poison you?”

“Well obviously because….” So it didn’t actually make much sense, but she wasn’t ready to concede that yet, “because you’re evil!”

“Alright then,” he still sounded amused with her, why was that? “Just drink this though, yeah?”

“It’s red,” she said accusingly. “What is it?”

“I might be a vampire but the only evil thing about this red is red dye number 40. It’s Gatorade, pet.”

“Why do you have Gatorade?”

“Just drink it would you?”

“I don’t like that kind,” she protested.

“Yeah, well you need to drink something so right now it doesn’t matter if you like it or not. Once you’re not about to pass out, we’ll get you something you like.”

“I have to sit up to drink this,” she informed him.

“You can sit up now, pet—long as you do it slow like.”

Buffy may have rolled her eyes at him, but in truth she was touched by how much care he was taking with her.

She sat up slowly, wishing there was something for her to lean against; this sitting up on her own was harder than it should have been.

Quietly Buffy drank the drink, not even objecting when Spike sat down on the opposite end of the sarcophagus.

He waited until she’d drunk the entire bottle before talking again, “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Of course not!” her voice didn’t hold as much vehemence as she would have liked though she wasn’t sure if it was due to her lack of energy or lack of….meaning it.

“Care to explain what you were doing then? You haven’t been out on patrol, least not without the Scoobies, in weeks, luv. There’s a reason for that,” he was trying not to sound angry with her but was failing fairly miserably.

“You think I don’t know that? I’m useless, I get that. But what was I supposed to do? Just listen while he killed that woman?”

“If it meant keeping yourself alive, yes!” he insisted.

“That’s not what Slayer’s do, Spike,” she reminded him.

“Screw what the bloody Slayers do; I’m talking about you Buffy. Whatever’s going on with you is not something any of the other Slayer’s had to deal with so you don’t have to follow their rules anymore. I—This world needs you too much for that.”

“Needs me for what? I can’t do anything, Spike!” the last thing she ever wanted to do was cry in front of Spike—again—but here she was doing it—again.

“You can do plenty—maybe not at the moment, but you’re sick Buffy,” he tried to assure her. “No one expects you to be doing more.”

“The whole freaking world does,” she laughed, but it was a humorless one. “Everyone in this whole damn world, whether they know it or not, is relying on me to save them and I can’t even take out one vampire attacking an old lady.”

“The Scoobies are doing that for you now; I’ll make sure I help from now on, too,” he didn’t tell her he already had been.

“You think I don’t know you already are?”

“What?!”

She looked actually pleased with his reaction, “Come on Spike. They don’t have anyone with extra strength…they’re doing the best they can, but if they were out there fighting everything there was—every single night—one or all of them would have been dead by now. I know you’ve been going out before them and getting rid of anything really nasty.”

“Yeah, well I…” he didn’t know what the point was in denying it, “The whelp’d get his head knocked off in a week if I didn’t.”

“I know—though you ever tell him that and I’ll stake you—and thank you” she finished quietly.

“Welcome, pet.” The Slayer was actually thanking him…well that was new; and strangely, it just made him worry about her more.



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