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SUMMARY: Buffy is forced into a prophecy involving Spike. Can they both survive it?
DIST/ARCHIVE: Ask first
DISCLAIMER: Buffy, Spike, and co. don't belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This version has been toned down from it's original NC-17 version for the purpose of posting it on this site. However, it still uses bad language and mature subjects and so is rated PG-15, please read at your own discretion.
"I think I managed to-to convince the Fuhrer that someone else beat you up an-and that Spike was, er, relieved you were alright," Giles said, entering his office. He surveyed the two slowly healing on the couch. "I do hope you both have gotten whatever it is out of your systems."
Both of them grunted, their jaws now too swollen to speak.
"Very good," Giles said, retrieving his car keys and books. "I shall give you both a ride home. Come along." He turned and left the office, not helping either of them.
Supporting each other, the vampire and the Slayer limped into the main portion of the library in time to see Willow and Xander enter.
"Oh my god! Buffy, what happened?" Willow exclaimed, rushing to her friend's side. The Slayer gave her a look. "Oh…um, never mind."
"I like the new look," Xander said. "Scream hauteur."
Spike growled and the two followed Giles out into the hallway. Luckily, the halls were cleared shortly after school ended. They hobbled together, Willow and Xander trailing behind them, to the car.
After a strained ride home, Buffy unlocked the front door and they went inside. She was forever thankful that her mom was at work until six, giving them enough time to clean up the blood. "Shower," she instructed, lifting her sore arm to the stairs. "How the hell are we going to get up those?"
"With lots of pain," Spike answered, half-carrying, half dragging the Slayer up the stairs. They got into the bathroom and Buffy looked at herself in the mirror.
"This is going to be hard to cover up," she said, examining her broken nose, black eyes, swollen jawbone and the miscellaneous scratches and cuts on her neck and arms. She turned to Spike, who had started the shower. "Be glad you can't see yourself."
Spike's own bruised and bloodied face looked down at her. "Is it as bad as yours?"
"Worse," she answered with a small smile, then grimaced in pain. She bent and dug some towels from under the sink, then began to strip.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Spike asked, watching her.
"You've seen it all before, and right now I'm too sore and tired to give a rats ass," Buffy answered, pulling the stained sports bra over her head. "Oh, god, that hurts."
"Here, hold on to my shoulders," he instructed, crouching. She did as asked, and he helped remove her shoes, socks, spandex and panties. If he wasn't in so much pain and could see better, he'd have appreciated the view. "In you go."
Buffy stepped under the hot spray and groaned. "This feels good." She didn't notice that Spike had joined her until she felt his cool hands on her shoulders. She jumped in surprise. "What are you doing?" she asked, repeating his question.
"You've seen it all before, and right now I'm too sore and tired to give a bloody rats ass," Spike responded, quoting her. Her lips quirked as he poured a large amount of shampoo in his hands. "Get your hair wet."
She did, and he proceeded to wash the dried blood out of it, being careful around the large gash from the counter. He helped her to rinse her hair, then soaped up a washcloth and ran it over her arms, chest, neck and face. When he was done, Buffy repeated the actions on him. The water in the tub was red with blood as it swirled down the drain.
Wrapping towels around themselves, the two sore beings stumbled to Buffy's bedroom and collapsed on the bed together, too tired to care they were suppose to be enemies. Too tired to care they hated each other. Too tired to care what would happen when they woke.
*****
A multitude of voices penetrated Spike's sleeping brain. Swimming back to consciousness, he realized they were very close. And loud.
"Will you shut the bloody hell up," he muttered, trying to block the sounds out.
"It's about time somebody woke up," Xander said, glaring at the two figures on the bed. "We were just debating on whether to throw a bucket of cold water on you guys."
Prying open his eyes, he could see the bedroom was full of people. Xander and Willow stood by the desk, Joyce and Giles were talking near the doorway and Angel lurked in the shadows by the window. *Great, the Mouseketeers are all here,* he thought.
He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, wincing at the shooting pain behind them. The Slayer was certainly a good fighter. Reminded as to where he was and who the warm body was next to him, Spike groaned. "Will all of you get lost for a minute? I'll try to wake the Slayer."
"Why? So you can pound her some more?" Xander asked. Willow elbowed him in the ribs.
"Do you really want a brassed off Slayer on all your tails?" Spike asked, moving his hands so he could glare at the others in the room. "I don't bloody care if she's pissed at me, but if she knew you were all in her bedroom when she was naked, I doubt she'd be jolly."
"Perhaps you're right," Giles said. "We shall be downstairs."
After a final hateful look from Angel, everyone left the Slayer and the vampire alone in her bedroom, door closed. Sighing, Spike propped himself up on his side, one arm holding up his head. He looked down at the thoroughly out of it girl beside him. He could see the gash on the back of her head was almost gone, as were most of the bruises and cuts on her arms and shoulders. Her face was turned away towards the window, as she lay on her stomach, cradling the pillow under her arms.
"Slayer? Time to rejoin the living and the not-so-living," he said softly, using his free hand to rub her bare back. The towel had slipped down as she slept, so it was covering her waist and tops of her legs, but nothing else. Spike was similarly attired, and was glad when he slept, he never moved, or all of his assets would have been showing for the audience in the bedroom.
It took a few minutes of prompting, but she eventually responded, coming awake with a loud moan. "Oh, my head hurts."
"Mine, too, pet," Spike said, still rubbing her back. "You pack a good punch."
"I try," she answered, turning her head towards him. Two black eyes stared up at him. "Nice face."
"You don't look so hot yourself, Slayer," he replied with a grin.
"So, are we being friendlies now?" Buffy said, enjoying the cool fingers on her sore back.
"I doubt we could ever be friends, pet," he answered. She nodded and closed her eyes, searching for the pain of his actions a couple days ago, but not finding it. The fight had healed her. "But we don't have to be enemies," he continued.
Inhaling deeply, Buffy looked at the clock over his shoulder. "I'm hungry, and I bet you are, too. Let's get dressed and see if we can scrounge up some money."
Spike nodded. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said, holding the towel in place as he stood. "One more thing, your Watcher and friends are all downstairs."
"What?"
"I gather they came to check up on you. That bloody wanker is here, too," he said. "Just thought I'd warn you."
"Thanks," Buffy replied. She watched as he left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Sighing, she climbed out of bed and got ready to face the music.
