She hated the tub. It was so hard and uncomfortable it made everything hurt even more. The pain had been constant for two days now, and the blood he’d been feeding her had done little to actually aid in healing. She was starting to worry she was never going to heal completely, that she’d have to spend the rest of her unlife being so hideous. If that were the case, she hoped he wouldn’t take too long to dust her.
She’d felt a little better on the couch, even if it hadn’t exactly been the nicest couch she’d ever seen. It was lumpy and worn, but it still beat the damn bathtub. He’d let her keep the pillow and the blanket, but they didn’t do a lot to help.
Buffy wondered if Spike was awake, and if he was, if he’d let her out of the tub again. And let her have more blood. She didn’t know if the animal blood wasn’t filling enough or if it was an effect of her injuries, but she couldn’t seem to keep from being hungry for long.
What she wouldn’t do for something warm and human…
“Spike?” she called out softly, not wanting to wake him if he was asleep. She chewed on her lip as she waited for a response, and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the door open.
“Can I come out now?” she asked.
Spike turned his head away, not wanting to look at the hopeful expression on her eyes. “Not now, Buffy. Maybe later.”
“Oh. Can…can I have some blood then?” she asked, disappointment clear in her voice.
“Later,” Spike told her again, then shut the door, leaving her alone again.
Buffy stared at the door, feeling very confused. He’d been so…kind to her the night before, and now he wasn’t even letting her eat? She didn’t understand it. She’d thought they’d reached some sort of understanding. What had she done to make him go suddenly cold on her?
Oh, right… She remembered with a wince exactly what she’d done. She’d been stupid enough to make a pass at him. Of course he didn’t want her around anymore. She’d probably sickened him.
Buffy resigned herself to staying in the tub, trying her best to ignore the pain and gnawing hunger.
Spike sat on the couch, taking deep breaths in a failing attempt to calm himself. He really had to get a grip, especially if he was going to be in close quarters with Buffy for the next few days.
He wasn’t able to get the image of the look of lust she’d been watching him with out of his mind. Even with her injuries, she was absolutely gorgeous, and his hands ached to touch her, his cock hard at the thought of what it would be like to be inside of her.
After she’d fallen asleep, he’d spent hours just watching her. She’d been completely still, so obviously dead, and yet, he’d craved her more than he had any woman since the loss of his wife. His body had burned for her, and it was all he could do to keep from waking her and begging her to let him touch her.
He hadn’t even wanted to take her back into the bathroom. He’d wanted to gather her into his arms and take her to bed with him, sleep with her body against his, warming her skin with his touch.
But he couldn’t do that. He’d finally reminded himself of what he was dealing with, made himself take her into the bathroom and remove the temptation. Now, he had to put distance between them, stop treating her like she was a person and not a demon. This had gone on long enough, and he had to get over whatever crazy thing was going on with him now and remember who they both were. He hunted her kind; she hunted his.
“Spike?”
Her voice sound so weak, so pitiful, that he was moving towards the door before he even had a chance to think about what she was doing. He stepped into the bathroom, wincing at his own cruelness when he saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
“I’m…I’m sorry. For…for what I did when you came out of the shower. I didn’t really mean to, it just kind of came out. I…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I promise it won’t happen again. I…I won’t say anything at all if you don’t want me to. I’ll just sit on the couch, and I’ll be quiet, just…please let me out. Please, Spike. I can’t take it anymore. I’m trying to be strong and understand why you need me to be chained up, but it hurts so bad. I can’t take the pain anymore. Please. It’s so bad…”
“It…it hurts that much worse in the tub?”
“Yes,” Buffy said, her tears falling again. “I have to lay on my burns, and my legs rub together and chafe, and the chains… Oh god, the chains hurt. They’re rubbing the burns raw.”
Without a single thought to what he was doing, Spike was at the tub, unchaining her. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said as he helped her out again. “I…I didn’t realize. I’m sorry.”
“It just hurts,” Buffy said. “I’m so tired of being in pain. I’ve never hurt like this before…”
“Come on, kitten, let’s get you in the bed,” Spike said, offering her an arm for support as he led her out into the living room. He hadn’t thought for a minute she’d think his cold treatment of her had anything to do with her remark after he’d gotten out of the shower. He almost told her the real reason, but decided maybe he should bite his tongue before things got completely out of hand.
Buffy realized for the first time that the couch pulled out into a bed as he led her over to it and helped her get into it. She sighed in relief as she was able to stretch out on cool sheets, the mattress, though worn, so much softer than the bathtub. “Thank you, Spike,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment and savoring the feeling of just being out of the bathroom. “Thank you so much.”
“Let me get you some blood,” Spike said, leaving her side to go to the kitchenette and warm her a mug of blood in the microwave.
Buffy nodded, then let her eyes close. She was still in a nearly-unbearable amount of pain, but no longer being in that horrible bathroom made so much of a difference.
When he brought her the blood, she sat up, humming in contentment as she wrapped her hands around the mug. “This is much better,” she said, even the pig’s blood not tasting so horrible as it slid down her throat.
“Do you think maybe something like burn ointment might help?”
His question took her by surprise, and Buffy stopped with the mug at her lips before lowering it. “Huh?”
“I…I don’t know much about vampire healing, but maybe if I got you some burn cream, it might at least numb your skin a bit. Make it not so horrible for you.”
“It would be worth a shot, I guess,” Buffy said. “Anything would help right now. The wound on my neck from the cross is the most horrible pain I’ve ever experience in my life.”
Spike swallowed. “It’s really that bad?”
“It feels like someone’s holding a hot poker to my throat. And it’s barely let up since you did it,” she answered honestly. “I can’t even touch it without it hurting my fingertips, too.”
Spike had never really given a lot of thought to what cross burns felt like to vampires. But then again, he’d never really cared.
He handed her the remote to the television before slipping on his coat. “I won’t be gone long. You’ll be okay for a little bit?”
“Yeah. You’re going to get burn cream?”
Spike nodded. “There’s more blood in the fridge if you need it.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Spike muttered before leaving the apartment before he could change his mind.
Buffy leaned against the pillows and finished her blood. She could smell Spike on the sheets, and she closed her eyes, taking in the scent. It was so rich and masculine, and she wished he’d let her bury her nose against his skin and just breathe him in.
But she certainly wasn’t going to suggest anything like that. Especially considering how he’d responded to her one little sexual comment.
Instead, she got off the couch and walked on shaky legs towards the fridge. She was still ravenous, and she thought she should eat more before he came back. It was easier to be around humans when she wasn’t so hungry. She hoped he’d gotten enough to…
Her mouth fell when she opened the fridge. It was filled with containers of blood. He’d told her he’d gotten three kinds of blood, but he hadn’t told her he’d gotten a dozen containers of each.
Just how much did he think she ate?
Still, she drank several mugs full of blood, until the hunger she’d been suffering for days finally seemed to be abating. She went back to the bed then, turning on the television and flipping through the channels as she waited for Spike to come back.
And wondered what the hell was taking him so long.
She looked at the clock and realized he’d been gone for over an hour. Was there no drug store nearby? She’d thought he’d be gone ten, fifteen minutes max.
When he finally did come back, he was carrying several bags. She wondered if he had some sort of version of OCD that made him buy everything in bulk…
He put the bags on the bed beside her, taking the burn cream out first before he pulled out a large stack of magazines and dropped those beside her. “I thought you might like something to read.”
Buffy looked down at the stack, flipping through it quickly. It ran the gamut from People to Guns and Ammo. “This is quite a selection,” she said with her eyebrow raised.
“I didn’t know what you like. I got you some clothes, too,” he said. “I had to guess on sizes, but I thought you might be more comfortable in something else, especially with your legs like that. I got a nightgown in case you don’t want them covered at all, and some sweatpants and t-shirts if you’d rather have that.”
“Thanks,” Buffy said, not sure of what else to say. Although the idea of wearing something other than the tattered clothes she’d been in since the holy water was very appealing…
After a moment of debating, she took the nightgown out of the bag. She probably should cover up more around him, but at the moment, she cared more about not having cloth on her burns. “Would…would you be willing to just turn around and let me change here?” she asked. “I don’t want to go back in…there.”
Spike replied with a nod. “Yeah, I can do that.” He turned his back to her, his breath catching as he thought about the fact that she was about to be naked in his bed. He could turn around now, take her in his arms, and…
“Spike?”
He could hear tears in her voice again, and it went straight to his heart. “Yeah?”
“My…my shirt’s stuck.”
He frowned. “Stuck?”
“Too…too my skin. Where the burns are. I can’t…I can’t get it off.” She paused, and he heard her take a shuddering breath. “I need help.”
He turned to look at her and swallowed hard. “Yeah, I’ll help,” Spike said, then approached her, sitting beside her on the bed. He looked at her shoulder, finding that the shirt was indeed stuck to her burned skin. His hand hovered above her for a moment, trembling, before he finally pulled at the fabric. She hissed in pain but said nothing, and he realized with relief that he was going to be able to pull it away from her flesh.
He worked carefully, peeling away her ruined shirt until it was finally loose enough that he could pull it over her head. Her chest was bare now, and Spike’s stomach rolled when he saw how far down the water had run. Her breasts were covered in the same welts as the rest of her, and it looked…
Well, it looked really painful.
Spike swallowed hard but said nothing as he moved to her skirt, realizing that was going to take some work, too, since it had fused to her leg.
Her legs were worse than he’d realized, the backs of them covered in burns from where he’d left her sitting in holy water. In some places her skin was gone completely… “Is this going to heal?” he asked softly.
Her almost-whispered, “I don’t know,” made his head snap up. He’d been thinking aloud, forgetting where he was for a moment, too horrified by what he was seeing.
Spike almost apologized again. Instead, he took off her shoes.
He could see the full range of her injuries now, and it filled him with self loathing. He didn’t say anything as he took out the burn cream he’d bought, applying a healthy amount to her skin. Buffy sighed softly, her eyes closing and her mouth parting as she let him.
It would’ve been erotic if he had been able to think of anything other than how much he hated himself for what he’d done. “Does that help?” he asked, trying to ignore the fact that his hand was massaging her inner thigh.
“Yeah, it does,” Buffy said, unable to hold back a small moan of pleasure. Even with all the pain, his touch felt so good. As if he was soothing away the hurting he’d caused.
He wanted to kiss her. Her lips were parted, red and full, and he knew she’d taste exquisite. His hand still against her leg, he leaned forward, drawn to her.
And then pulled away. He couldn’t do this. She was a means to an end, and he was going to have to kill her soon anyway. If he touched her like that… It would only make what he’d eventually have to do harder.
“Hold up your arms,” he said, making her eyes snap back open. When she saw he had the nightgown, she did what he said, and he slipped the cool cotton shift over her head.
She felt better now. Still in pain, still something that would classify as miserable, but better. The nightgown was much more comfortable than her ruined top and skirt, and the burn cream did help some. She lay back down, snuggling up to a pillow. “I need to sleep more,” she said, her eyes sliding shut now that she could find some degree of comfort comfort.
“That’s fine, pet. I’ll be here if you need anything.”
“Mmmkay,” Buffy replied, already mostly asleep.
Spike watched her, his hand aching to touch her hair, her skin.
Instead, he picked up a magazine.
Well, so many of you asked for it, so here it is – three posting days in a row. Does that mean I get reviews? *bats eyelashes*