This Morning

By Liz

Spike held Buffy fast as she looked about frantically, and she instinctively tried to pull away. Both men did their best to keep her still as she struggled, panic wild in her eyes until she realized where she was. She was alive. Apparently safe for the moment and in Giles' home.

"Giles, what happened? Riley, he…"

Between the blood loss and fear, she looked unbearably pale. "It's alright, Buffy," he reassured her. "You're safe now. We can call Riley if you like and—"

"No we can't, Watcher."

Buffy tensed at the voice, only now really aware of the arms around her. She also realized that one of those arms was currently holding a towel across her chest. The memory of why flooded back to her, and with a wilting moan, she began to cry.

The sight of her broke Giles' heart, and he folded his arms about her as well, the two men holding her between them as she sobbed.

"Giles," she wailed, "h-he… Riley…"

Spike volunteered the explanation. "Finn did this. He's dead. Turned. Rose tonight and came after her."

Giles' heart shattered utterly now to hear the truth of what had happened. He saw the horror of what she'd gone through, at the same time trying desperately to force away the image of her in such personal, brutal terror. His throat tightened, and he offered the only words he could find. "Dear God, Buffy, I'm so sorry."

Spike disentangled himself from them. He moved a step away to let the other man comfort her, but she turned to look at him. "Spike? H-how did…?" The last thing she remembered, she was in the cemetery. Riley was above her, opening his mouth wide, and then there was a streak of motion behind him. The next thing she felt was a wrenching in her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to find herself here. "It was you."

He looked at the floor, frowning at the droplets of blood spattered there.

"Yeah, luv. It was me."

She regarded him with genuine confusion, not seeming to understand what he'd just said.

"Don't look so shocked, Slayer. It's not like I never helped out before, you know. Always up for a good fight and all that."

If Giles hadn't seen Spike's earlier tenderness towards Buffy, the vampire's sincere panic at the thought of losing her, he might have bought the casual tone that Spike was trying to adopt. But he'd heard that same forced bravado from his Slayer on too many occasions to be fooled by it. Something those two had in common, he supposed. Neither could bear showing their vulnerability, it seemed. Except, apparently, to him.

For a girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, Buffy was a master at building walls. To keep people out, to protect herself – she hadn't always been like that, but after Angel left, she'd withdrawn from all of them. Giles had hoped she'd find a measure of happiness with Riley, but she'd kept him at a distance as well. Because to open her heart, to let herself truly care for someone, meant that they could hurt her again. Sadly, what she had yet to realize was that the hurt still came – she just made it happen on her terms. Not that she could have foreseen tonight, of course. Any number of different choices made could have kept this tragedy from coming, but this wasn't her fault. He was just grateful beyond words that Spike had been there.

Spike didn't build walls. He didn't need to. He could shift into his demonic features to hide from the very human man that still haunted him, then back into that man's visage to seek refuge from the monster. And over both he had constructed a careful portrait of someone whom mundane concerns like tenderness and fear didn't touch. Tonight they had both touched him deeply, though, and Giles watched knowingly as this third mask slid into place.

If Buffy saw through Spike's feigned casualness, she didn't comment on it, apparently satisfied enough with Spike's explanation to collapse back into her Watcher's arms. Giles held her as she cried, offering soothing words of sympathy and support until an uncomfortable Spike reluctantly interrupted.

"About time for me to shove off, then." Truthfully, it was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her again himself, but he knew it would be an intrusion. She was in good hands now, and there wasn't much more he could do here. One thing he needed to do, though, before he left. Gesturing to the blood-soaked t-shirt he still wore, he spoke to Giles. "If you wouldn't mind?"

Giles understood, nodding his permission, and Spike turned and climbed the stairs to the loft. The vampire hadn't wanted to leave with her blood still on his shirt. They could each pretend it was simply a matter of cleanliness, but they both knew better. Only Spike, however, knew why. It wasn't the blood itself that tormented him; it was the scent of it. That scent had nearly seen him on his knees, drinking from her as she lay dying. Even now, it called him a soft little fool for not tasting her when he had the chance. He'd resisted, but only barely. And he was disgusted with himself. For wanting to, for not doing it, for being so tempted, for not giving in… for actually falling so in love with her that he'd turn away from the most primal, glorious hunger he'd ever felt.

Once again, meet Spike. Love's Bitch, at your service.

A moment later he returned with a clean t-shirt and an oxford from Giles' closet. Spike stripped off his bloodstained garment, laying it on the towel with his ruined red one, and pulled the new t-shirt over his head. The oxford, however, he held out to Giles. "Figure she'll want this," he offered. The Watcher accepted it gratefully, extricating himself from Buffy's arms to wrap the shirt around her shoulders.

Now that the imminent danger was past, Spike averted his eyes from Buffy's chest as the towel fell away. After all the nights he'd lurked beneath her bedroom window, he'd have called anyone a damned liar for suggesting he'd have the chance to see her bare breasts and turn away. But this wasn't how he wanted to see her. Once upon a time, he'd have given his right arm to see her beaten and bloodied – preferably at his hands - but now the sight just made him angry. Angry with Finn for getting killed, angry with whatever idiot vampire had turned the Slayer's beau, angry with himself for caring so much.

He reached for his leather duster, then frowned to see it streaked with more of her blood from where he had carried her in it. More than twenty years earlier, he'd taken this very coat from the body of a Slayer, never imagining he'd turn around and use it to shield another as he saved her life. Dru would have a field day with this. Wherever she was right now, whatever demon she'd taken up with, she was probably rolling on the ground in fits of hysterical giggles.

Spike took his cigarettes and lighter from the duster's pocket, then put the coat back down on the desk. He looked at Giles, who answered, "I'll take care of it, Spike."

He strode towards the door and unfastened the deadbolt that held it closed. Then he turned back to Giles, muttering, "Sorry about the door, Watcher." Both regarded the busted door as a small price to pay for all they could have lost tonight, and the two men held each other's eyes for a moment. "If she needs anything, Rupert. Anything." Giles nodded again, amazed to find that he didn't doubt the sincerity of the offer, amazed as well that his own words would be just as earnest.

"Thank you, Spike. Is there anything you—"

The vampire cut him off with a wave of his hand and took a last look at Buffy. Satisfied that she was safe for the night, he turned at last to go. "Right, then. Better lock up behind me." He walked out into the courtyard, pausing until he heard the click of the deadbolt behind him. Then he lit a cigarette and set off for home.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Inside, Giles gently set about the task of treating Buffy's other assorted wounds. She flinched as he dabbed hydrogen peroxide on her cuts and scrapes and carefully slid her arms through the sleeves of the shirt Spike had brought down for her. She'd already had a good cry – she expected she'd have several more once the shock of it wore off - but somewhere deep inside, a seed of blame began to settle. She should have expected something like this. She should have known she'd get him killed. She should have known he'd be so angry.

She had brought this on herself.

Not that she deserved it – well, maybe she did, she thought, but that wasn't what she meant. Just… maybe if she hadn't been so busy pushing Riley away, he'd have still been in her bed when the sun came up this morning. Or maybe, she thought, she should have ended things long before now. After all, he'd once asked that if she was going to break his heart, she do it quickly and cleanly. Instead, she'd slowly crushed it a piece at a time, too busy with her own problems to see that someone who loved her was hurting.

Giles finished tending to her injuries, buttoning her shirt when she made no move to do it herself. She looked numb. An understandable reaction in the face of something so raw as this. But as he watched the thoughts flickering across her face, it seemed he recognized a few of them, and he broke the silence.

"Buffy, this wasn't your fault." When her eyes met his, he knew he'd guessed right.

"Giles, why couldn't I love him?"

"What?"

"I should have seen it coming, Giles. I pushed him away. I couldn't love him like he wanted me to, and he was hurting, and I didn't even...”

"And that made him into a vampire?"

"What are you talking about?"

"If you had loved him with all your heart, would that have protected him against a vampire's bite? Or stopped him from rising tonight?"

"Damnit, Giles, that's not the point! He loved me so much, and it never even occurred to me that he was in pain, and I should have seen—"

"Alright," he interrupted. "So perhaps you made some mistakes. I'm certain he must have as well. But not having the perfect girlfriend does not turn one into a vampire. And even if you'd said and done every single thing his heart desired, he still would have come for you tonight. For whatever reason, Buffy, he was out in Sunnydale after dark, and he was attacked. That's why this happened. Be angry, be sad, be frightened by what almost happened to you. But do not sit there and tell me that the vampire that bit him would have walked on past if you had given Riley your heart."

A speechless Buffy was a rare thing for Giles to see, but she sat quietly as she took in what he said. Then when the silence grew uncomfortable, she turned the conversation to something more familiar. "So what did Spike want for his help this time? Huge piles of money, I'm guessing." Giles raised his eyebrows at this, still surprised himself at the answer.

"Actually? Not a thing, for once."

"Oh, right," she huffed. "He's probably off making his list of demands as we speak. Bet he figures this'll keep him in free blood and cigarettes for a year."

"I'm serious, Buffy. I even tried to ask what he wanted, but he wouldn't let me finish the question. It seems he… he just wanted to help."

"Yeah, cause that's so very like him, Giles. Helpful Spike, friend to Slayers everywhere! He probably took one look at me all bleeding and…" Her face found a new shade of pale as the thought dawned on her. "Oh, God. Giles! I was laying there bleeding! His chip wouldn't have stopped him if I was already…" Her hand went to the cut on her head, as if she could tell from touching it if the vampire had taken advantage of her injury. "No wonder he didn't want anything, he probably already took his payment while I was all unconscious. God, I'm gonna kill him!"

Buffy looked around for a stake, ready to track him down, injuries and all, but Giles reached out and put a steadying hand on her arm. "Buffy, he didn't."

"How do you know, Giles? What, did you ask him? Like he wouldn't have just lied? 'Yeah, Watcher,'" she mimicked. "'Took myself a nice big drink from the lady. You don't mind, do you?' Geez, you'd have staked him on the spot! Of course he lied!"

Giles sighed. He'd thought the same thing of Spike, with much the same regard for the vampire's honesty. But it hadn't been Spike's words that convinced him. It was what Spike had done. "I know, Buffy. His word doesn't carry much weight with me either. But answer me this, then. Why did he leave everything here that had your blood on it? Why did he wipe your blood from his hands?”

"Giles, you can't tell me he didn't want to taste it."

"Nor do I intend to try. Certainly, he wanted to. But he didn't."

"Why wouldn't he?"

There it was. He hadn't intended to tell her what else he'd observed while she was unaware, but it was the answer to her question. An answer Giles knew she wasn't likely prepared for.

"He, ah… it would seem that Spike is… rather, it appeared to me that…"

"Giles, just spit it out."

"He's in love with you."

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