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Author's Chapter Notes:
Okay, slightly longer than my last two offerings, I think. Sorry about my bad updating - I completely lost interest in the story - mild case of writer's block! It's completely unbeta'd, by the way!
So, nothing spectacular here - I'm still trying to work on characterisation of people other than Buffy and Spike. Sometimes, my portrayal of the others can be kinda suck-y and biased. Also, wow, thanks for reviewing and favourite-ing! You guys are the sweetest! And, whoa! A lot of Xander-bashing in the comments, I was really surprised! But, as stupid as he can be, I'll try and redeem him, gentle readers (YES! Andrew reference! :D ) ... Hope you enjoy!
When they pulled up in the driveway of 1630, Buffy hopped out immediately, gesturing for Xander to assist her. He got out and walked around to her, helping her to ease the vampire out of the back of the car. As they carried him across the lawn, a movement on the porch caught Xander’s attention.

“Ahn!” He called out as Anya walked out the front door. He let Spike’s legs drop, leaving Buffy holding all the vampire’s weight.

“Anya! Ahn! God, please speak to me!” She walked right past him, her hand held up in the air.

“Stay away from me, Xander Harris.”

“Please, Anya. Don’t do this! Please don’t do this to me!”

She whirled around, her face contorted in anger and pain. “Do what to you, Xander? Crush you? Leave you? Ruin the day you’ve been waiting for your entire life? Have the person you loved most hurt you so badly? Stop me if any of this sounds familiar!”

His face crumpled. “God, Ahn, I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am…”

Drawn by the sounds of the confrontation, Willow, Tara, and Dawn appeared in the doorway, watching as Anya shoved Xander away roughly, and walked quickly down the street, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Guys…”

Their attention was drawn to the grass, where Buffy knelt, holding a still Spike in her arms. Both were injured badly, judging by the cuts and bruises that littered their faces.

“Oh, Goddess,” Willow breathed in surprise, heading over towards them. “What happened?”

“He’s hurt, Will. We gotta do something. He just won’t wake up!” There was something in the Slayer’s eyes that Willow hadn’t expected to see – Fear, pain, worry… and something that flickered to the surface for a moment, before it disappeared once more.

“Of course, we’ll do everything we can. I’m sure he’ll be up and up to mischief in no time!”

Tara approached, murmuring a soft phrase in Latin. Spike’s body was raised upwards, levitating under her spell. Buffy gave a quick smile of thanks, and stood up, following as Tara floated his body through the open front door.

With Tara dealing with Buffy and Spike, Willow and Dawn headed over to Xander.

“Where do you want me to put him?” Tara asked.

My bed, she thought. He’ll be safe there. Warm. “Uh, the sofa, please.”

Tara nodded and gestured towards the sofa, where Spike then drifted to. Another whispered incantation, and he dropped softly into the cushions.

Immediately, Buffy was at his side, propping his head up on the cushions, running a gentle hand over the harsh bruise blooming on his jaw. Another cut had bloodied his lip, the wound still seeping. Her finger hovered over it, as she puzzled over the fact it hadn’t begun to heal yet. She frowned. “That should be fading by now.”

Moving her inspection further, she saw the outline of a bone protruding upwards underneath the cotton of his t-shirt.

“His ribs…”

Tara gave her a sympathetic smile. “He’s healing, Buffy. He just needs to sleep. And we need to get you sorted out. You should sit down.”

Uncharacteristically obedient, the Slayer sat down on the coffee table as the blonde Wiccan went to fetch a first-aid kit. Her eyes were trained on Spike the whole time.

This isn’t right. Something’s gone wrong, he shouldn’t be like this. What was that thing?

“Oh!” She jumped to her feet, whimpering as her body cramped in process.

“Buffy, sit down,” Tara chided softly, re-entering the room. “You need to heal too.”

“No, I can’t… the demon… It - it poked him.”

Xander, Willow, and Dawn entered. Xander’s eyes were red and puffed, and the redhead rubbed his arm soothingly.

“Poked him?” Dawn asked skeptically.

“I don’t know. It had a … thing. It stuck it in his side.”

Willow frowned. “Like, a weapon?”

“A skewer-y thing!”

“Rampage of the skewer-wielding demons, huh? That’s new,” Xander remarked, his strained face a harsh contrast to his falsely chipper voice.

“Remember the thing Adam had on his arm?” Her friends nodded. “It was sorta like that, I guess.”

“And it stabbed Spike with it? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I saw it!”

Buffy reached forward and raised the hem of Spike’s shirt. There, against his flawless alabaster skin, was a large purple welt.

“Ouch,” Willow remarked quietly.

The Slayer ran a weary hand through her hair, wincing as it stung. Pulling her hand back, she saw a small nick in the palm, a tiny shard of glass was embedded in it. She grimaced, and pinched it out.

“Where’s the glass from?” Tara asked, frowning.

“From when my face was introduced to a car window,” Buffy grumbled, rubbing the back of her sore neck.

“Oh, Goddess.” Tara opened the large first-aid kit, and rooted for her supplies. “Sit down, and I’ll sort you out.”

“But Spike needs –”

“Spike needs rest, Buffy. And so do you. We’ll get you fixed up, and then help him. We’ll just give him a little healing time.” The witch’s voice was uncharacteristically firm. “Now, sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Buffy joked, giving her friend a wry smile.

Xander cleared his throat. “Well, I should go, you guys. I’ll see you later, and hope you’ll be okay, Buff. Even Vamp-Boy.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Xan. Are you okay? After the Anya thing outside?”

He feigned a nonchalant shrug. “I’m good. Me good strong man. Me no be sad.”

Buffy laughed. “Alright, Cave-Xan, if you say so.”

He nodded his goodbyes, giving Willow a hug, and left.

Willow sighed. “I feel so bad for him!”

Rubbing her eyes in weariness, Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “What happened? Why was Anya here?”

“She was dropping off the keys for the Magic Box, in case there was an emergency. We weren’t expecting you guys to be back so quickly. She was just leaving when you arrived.”

Dawn crossed the room and rested her hand on Spike’s head soothingly. “Everything’s all crappy.”

Tara smiled sadly. “It’ll work out, Dawnie. I promise.”

“Is Spike gonna be okay?” The teenager asked, fear filling her bright blue eyes.

Buffy didn’t answer. She couldn’t, not when she didn’t even know herself.

Was he gonna be okay?

“Uh, hey, let’s get those injuries sorted, huh?” Willow piped up nervously.

Buffy nodded numbly, her eyes watching as her sister stroked Spike’s hair. “Dawnie, you should go to bed,” she said quietly.

“What? No way! I’m staying down here with Spike. You can’t make me go –”

“Now,” Buffy snapped irritably, wincing as a wave of pain ran through her wrist.

Dawn glared at her. “This isn’t fair. I care about him, which is more than I can say for any of you! You can’t just cut me out.”

“Goddammit, Dawn! Just go already. I have enough hits to the head without you giving me a headache too!”

“Why couldn’t the demon have stabbed you?” Her sister yelled, before fleeing the room, and stomping up the stairs. Buffy sighed as a door slammed upstairs.

“I’ll, uh, go up and talk to her,” Willow offered awkwardly, following.

As her ex-lover left, Tara sat on the table beside Buffy.

“It’s not Dawn’s fault, you know,” she said gently.

“I know, I know. It’s just that she made me think – what if he isn’t gonna be okay?” She raised her gaze to Tara’s, her hazel eyes swimming with tears and worry and fear.

A warm, soft hand grasped hers, squeezing softly in support.

“Oh, Buffy. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Really. It’s Spike, nothing is gonna stop him. You should know, look how often you tried.”

That got a sad laugh from the Slayer. “Yeah, good point.”

“So, a car window, huh?”

“I’m really hoping the owner won’t want me to pay for repairs! But, yeah, this demon was so strong. It really did a number on us.”

“Well, let me have a look at you then.”

Buffy obliged, shrugging out of her jacket, her sore body screaming in protest at the movement. Tara saw the expression of pain on her face and hastened to help ease the article of clothing off gently.

“Thanks.”

“Where does it hurt?” The witch asked, balancing her first-aid kit on her knee.

Buffy grimaced. “Everywhere. Mainly my head, back, and wrist, though.”

“Well, we’ll get some ice for your wrist. Better get these cuts cleaned up though, and get rid of any glass.”

As Tara worked on her injuries, cleansing cuts and bandaging wounds, Buffy kept her vision fixed on Spike, looking for the tiniest hint of a movement, any small indication to prove that he was still alive – er, undead.

There was none.

Not even that persistent rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, a subconscious action carried on from human life, a hundred years before.

It was terrifying to see him so still, so lifeless. Not Spike, not that annoying, fidgety vampire. A person she would definitely tag as someone with ADHD. The kind of person who needed to move, to pace, to smoke, to fight, to fuck, to strut, to do anything rather than succumb to the boredom that came with a lack of movement.

And he was so still!

When Tara had finished, had bandaged her up, had given her a fistful of painkillers and a hot water bottle, she stood up. The witch turned her attention to Spike, gently dabbing at his cuts, her soft hands soothing his bruises. Finishing up, she tidied up, and got to her feet too.

“I should go; I’ve got a class in the morning.”

Buffy nodded. “You’ll be careful?”

Her friend opened her bag to take out a large wooden cross and a little glass bottle of holy water.

“Good. That’s good. Thanks, Tara.”

“It’s no trouble. Take it easy, okay? And keep an eye on Spike.” She paused. “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

Buffy nodded, those bright fearful tears lighting up her tired eyes again. Tara gave her a hug, holding her gingerly. “He’ll be fine. But… it’s good that you care. Somebody other than a fifteen year old girl has to care about him, you know.”

“Do you? Do you care about him?”

Tara gave that cute smile of hers – one side of her mouth hooking upwards, a little quirk. “I think he’s good, and caring, and loyal. So, yes. I really do.”

Buffy smiled. “Thank you.”

“You should get some sleep, okay?”

Tara left, walking to the door, closing it behind herself, leaving Buffy in the living room with Spike.

She headed over to the window, making sure that the thick curtains were shut fully. Then she looked at Spike, sighing as she noted he hadn’t made any progress. She eased the duster off of him, folding it and laying on the coffee table. Next, his boots were removed and placed on the floor. She picked up the soft comforter from the back of the sofa, and spread it over his sleeping form, tucking it in slightly, knowing that he liked the comfort of warmth.

She pressed a chaste kiss to his swollen lip, and left the room, flicking off the light as she left.




Later that night, Willow woke to the sound of Buffy crying.


Chapter End Notes:
...So... comatose Spike? Hmm, oh dear, what will ever happen? :D
...Also, the ending seems kinda up in the air there - like the beginning of a new paragraph. I only added that in as an afterthought, I figured it needed it! I don't know, what do you guys think? Hmm? Hope you review - I love it when you guys respond! :]

Thanks for reading!



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