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The two girls arrived within the hour and they both sensed the tension immediately.

Tara kept her head down as Giles explained the situation, carefully avoiding Willow’s guilty eyes. The blonde was hurt that her girlfriend could be so sneaky. She hadn’t ever suspected that Willow had such malevolence lying underneath her pale skin.

Uncharacteristically, Anya didn’t even make an inappropriate comment as she sat down to research a solution. In her millennium as a demon she’d seen some terrible things, but the redhead seemed to have a knack for inadvertent vengeance that D'Hoffryn would be proud of.

The research party was solemn. It seemed like an eternity before anyone glanced up from their texts for fear of being immersed into the awkwardness once again.

“Oh, this is impossible!” Anya exclaimed finally breaking the silence. She tossed another useless volume on the pile of other useless volumes and rose to her feet. The newly blonde ex demon was bored of this stupid research. She’d learned a lot more in her millennium as a demon than she ever could from these dusty old books.

“Yes, well, we must keep looking,” Giles replied without lifting his nose from the book he was scouring.

Anya sighed and glared in Willow’s direction. “This is what happens when an amateur plays around with spells. They finish up half-baked and unintentionally irreversible.”

“I’m not an amateur, Anya,” Willow growled, her eyes flashing furiously at the ex-demon. Giles had used the exact same word to describe her earlier and she was started to become infuriated with their lack of faith in her.

She was a good witch damn it!

“Really?” Anya asked wryly, leaning against the edge of the research table. She wasn’t intimidated by the other girl despite Willow’s obvious intentions and met her stare with equal strenth. “Then why is Buffy dying because of something you did?”

“It was an accident. Spells go wrong sometimes,” the redhead stammered defensively. “And besides, you hardly even know Buffy. It’s not as if you’re even friends.”

“No, I don’t really know Buffy,” Anya agreed truthfully, unhurt by Willow’s jibe. “But I do know something about curses. I was a vengeance demon for eleven hundred years and curses are pretty much the point of the job. You invoked the power of Mnemosyne. That’s curse territory right there unless you know exactly what you’re doing. Trust me you don’t want to piss off a Titaness. So if you wanted to put a horrible, deadly hex on your best friend, then congratulations. You succeeded. Now she’s going to die, brutally and painfully.”

Willow flushed red with embarrassment and anger. She wanted to put a hex on Anya at that moment. Who did she think she was? She was nothing but a crude ex-demon who had infiltrated her way into their group by promising her Xander-shaped friend ‘many orgasms.’

Before the situation could escalate, Giles stepped in and raised a hand.

“Now is not the time to be squabbling over petty issues,” he told both the women firmly. “Buffy will die if we don’t find a way to reverse this spell.”

Anya nodded and Willow looked at the ground sheepishly.

“Well it’s good to know that when one of your best friends is dying, all your other friends will band together and tear each others’ throats out,” Xander quipped, desperate to break the tension that hung over the room, before glancing over at Spike. “Possibly literally if you’re Evil Dead over there. Not that he’s anyone’s friend.”

“Shut up, Wanker!” Spike bit back, tossing the book he was studying to the ground in a fit of rage. “You’re the one who bloody well did the damage. If Buffy dies it’ll be on your fat head. Yours and the little witch’s.”

The vampire had purposely kept silent up until that point. He didn’t feel comfortable around the Scoobies and he was worried about Buffy. Actually he was terrified that he was going to lose her.

Aside from the time when Drusilla had gotten sick in Prague, Spike had never had to worry about health issues during his lengthy unlife. But now Buffy faced certain death if the Scoobies couldn’t find a cure and it shook his world to its very foundations.

The possibility of losing the woman he loved because of these idiot teens’ stupid actions was not an option.

Apparently Xander still wasn’t prepared to accept any kind of blame for this though. “I don’t even know why you’re still here, Evil Dead,” the brunet remarked meanly. “No one needs you here. The only good thing you can do for Buffy is to leave town so she’s got one less pain in her ass to deal with when she wakes up.”

The anger hit Spike like a freight train, slamming into him with such force that it almost knocked him to the ground. Through the haze of fury he rose to his feet, marched forward and lunged at Xander. He yanked the larger man to his feet and slammed him against the wall. The chip was firing like crazy inside of his head as he pulled back his arm and slammed it into the other man’s face but he paid it no heed.

All he could feel was anger. Pain was just a dull second in the race for his attention.

The next thing he knew he was flying backward across the room, toppling over the table and sprawling on the ground. He raised his aching head to be greeted with the furious face of his fellow Brit.

In the background Xander was flailing and yelling about the dangerous vampire but Spike didn’t even glance his way as he struggled to his feet. He stood toe to toe with Giles, half expecting the other Englishman to toss him out into the sun.

However, Giles surprised him. And it wasn’t often that Spike was surprised, especially by humans. He flashed him an understanding look of solidarity. The look told Spike that Giles understood his feelings, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with them. The Watcher and the Vampire didn’t need to use words for the emotion that passed between them in that moment.

Giles might never approve of Spike’s feelings for his Slayer. He probably wouldn’t ever condone a relationship between the two natural enemies. But now Spike knew that he had Giles’ understanding and right now that was the best he could hope for. Of course, it wasn’t that he cared less what Giles or any of the other Scoobies thought of him.

But Buffy cared.

And if…when… she woke up, having her Watcher’s understanding might give weight to her feelings. Maybe, just maybe, she would allow herself to feel for Spike.

He could only hope.

Of course, he was getting too far ahead of himself. They needed to find a cure for Buffy before they could do anything else. Unfortunately, Xander’s constant bullish ranting was proving a hurdle for them and one that was difficult to surmount.

“Did no one else see that?” yelled Xander, his eyes darting around the room like he was a feral creature. “Spike tried to kill me!”

“Get over yourself, you ponce,” Spike spat, finally lighting his now slightly bent cigarette, much to the obvious displeasure of the humans. He blew out a lengthy puff of smoke and sighed contentedly. “You’d think that after three bloody years of working with the Slayer you’d recognize a demon with or without homicidal tendencies.”

“I think you have Xandercidal ones,” the boy quipped back.

“Anyone who’s ever met you has Xandercidal tendencies, mate.”

“I’m not your mate!”

“Ha! You don’t need to tell me that, Monkeyboy!”

Seeing that the dispute was about to escalate once again Giles decided to step in. He was sick of both the males’ posturing and it needed to stop if they were ever going to help Buffy.

The Watcher turned to Spike with understanding yet steely eyes. “Why don’t you go and check on Buffy?” Giles suggested kindly, purposefully ignoring Xander’s nasty scoff and Willow’s gasp. Giles couldn’t help but think that Spike was at his most useful when he wasn’t actually around so sending him off to take care of Buffy would deal with that annoying pickle for him.

Spike opened his mouth to argue until he realized that the other Brit was giving him leeway to spend some much needed quiet time with the woman he loved. There was no way he was going to pass up an offer like that.

“Right you are, Watcher,” Spike agreed with a nod, heading up the stairs without so much as a backward glance. He could clearly hear the chatter of the humans and knew it was about him but he didn’t give a goddamn fuck about them.

He was going to check on his girl.

And she was his, whether she knew it or not.

When Spike reentered the bedroom, Buffy was sleeping peacefully, laying supine under the floral bedspread, her hair fanned out around her gaunt face. The only sign that something was wrong was her pale complexion and the tiny beads of sweat on her forehead.

He just watched her for a moment, focusing on her shallow breathing. She looked so beautiful and he cursed himself for not realizing his feelings earlier. Maybe if he had…

Dru had known, of course. His sire was touched with the sight, but she was also amazingly intuitive. And she’d known that his feelings for the Slayer weren’t purely of the murderous variety. He had repressed his feelings and covered them with an insatiable blood lust.

But then the little redheaded witch had cast a spell that changed him. The memories of being inside Buffy had haunted the blonde vampire for months. Aside from being primo Spank Bank material, there was a softer side to them too.

Even though he’d tried to avoid admitting it, he’d loved being loved by Buffy. he’d loved tasting her, making love to her and having her love him right back. That evening of holding each other in the purest form of love and passion had been one of the best experiences of his life. Somehow, his subconscious had figured it out before he had.

And now here he was…playing a fool for love once again.

But he couldn’t lose her. No matter what. Even if he had to die to save her, he would happily do it.

Because he loved her.

Picking up the cool cloth that lay in a shallow dish on the nightstand, Spike began to mop her clammy brow. All the time, he whispered sweet nonsense into her ear, trying to reassure the unconscious girl that she would be okay.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” he assured the sleeping Slayer. “Not gonna be a silly little thing like a wayward spell that brings down the greatest Slayer who ever lived.”

Spike ran the cloth down her cheeks, before putting it back in the dish. He traced the planes of her cheeks, nose and jaw with shaky fingers.

“You see, love. You can’t let it bring you down. I know you can’t hear me right now, and you’d probably never listen to ole Spike even if you could hear me. At least not if you were in your right mind. But I love you. I love you so bloody much, more than I even knew it was possible. Thought I’d been in love before but it was never like this. And that’s why you can’t die on me, pet. Because I’d never survive your loss. If you leave me, I’ll be laying myself over your grave and seeing if I freckle.”

Tears filled his eyes and he didn’t even try to wipe them away. They dripped down his face and his buried his head in the folds of the duvet that were covering his Slayer. He could feel the warmth of her body seeping through the layers of material and it comforted him. Yet at the same time it also terrified him because her warmth reminded her that she was human. And her mortal fragility meant she could be stolen away at any moment.

Only he knew that it couldn’t end like that. They weren’t Romeo and Juliet so Spike was determined this wouldn’t end in tragedy.

He had enough residual faith in the Watcher and the Slayerettes that he believed they would find a cure for her condition.

Somehow.

Not that he didn’t still want to rip all their selfish little guts out.

But he wouldn’t do that because he knew Buffy wouldn’t like it.

Fuck but he was Slayer-whipped these days.

Finally he gave in to his needs and climbed into the bed beside Buffy cradling her in his arms. He buried his nose in her blonde mane, breathing in her sweet scent, even though it was fainter than usual. That fact alone infused him with a sense of dread. She was slipping away. He silently vowed to himself in that moment that if they could save her then he’d keep her with him for always. He’d never let her go.

With his beautiful girl locked in his embrace, he finally drifted off into a restless sleep.





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