Title- After Glory







Season V – could have happened this way, if Buffy was a little nicer







Word Count: 5006







Rating – PG/PG13







Disclaimer – not my characters, just playing with them







Distribution – if you want it, take it!







Feedback – yes, please







Thanks to Francis for her hard work as a beta!































AFTER GLORY















Buffy paused as she reached the door of the crypt, squared her shoulders and put a perky smile on her face.  She opened the door, bounced into the room and saw Spike stretched out on the stone slab, not moving.  The sight of his torn and bruised body almost made her gasp out loud – thereby, she was sure, spoiling her Buffy-bot imitation.  It occurred to her that Spike could probably smell her, but he didn’t even seem to be aware she had come in yet.















“Spike, look at all those sexy wounds! Do you want to ravish me now?” she sang out in her perkiest voice.















Sitting up painfully slowly, the vampire opened his one good eye at her and said, “Give us a few minutes, love. I have some bones that need to mend.”















Buffy tried to stay far enough away that he wouldn’t smell her and realize it was her and not the bot until she had the information she needed.  She didn’t know if his vampire senses were working, but assumed not since he seemed to accept her at face value.















Answering his question about why the Scoobies hadn’t scrapped her as best she could, Buffy tried to lead the conversation (does he actually have conversations with the Buffy-bot?) to what Glory wanted from him.  When she was sure he had told her what she needed to know, she pretended to be on her way to tell Glory about Dawn. Spike let out a strangled “NO!” as she turned to leave.      “But, why not?” she asked carefully, edging back toward him.  After a coughing fit brought on by the sudden force of shouting with broken ribs (and who knows what other internal injuries, she wondered) he replied,  “Buffy. The other, not-so-pleasant Buffy,” he gasped out (Me? Not so pleasant?).  “It would destroy her. I’ll let Glory kill me before I cause her that much pain”.















Buffy had been moving closer to him as he spoke and when the realization of what he said and what he had done for her and Dawn sank in, she found herself reaching up to that swollen, but still beautiful (now where did that thought come from?) mouth and kissing it very gently.  For just a second, she felt soft, gentle lips on hers, and then Spike jerked back staring at her and she knew her disguise was gone.  He leaned in as though to try another kiss, but she was already moving away and turning to go.















“And my robot…….?” He said slowly.   She just glared at him and he had the grace to look ashamed.  “Right then, Gone”















Instead of leaving she found herself going back to him to ask,  “How could you do that?  What were you thinking?”















“I was thinking that it would be as close as I ever got to the real thing – and that might be good enough,” he said wearily, lying back on the sarcophagus.















“And was it?” she demanded.















“Was it what”?















“Good enough?”















“Not now, it isn’t,” he tried to smile up at her, but it turned into a grimace of pain and he doubled over briefly coughing blood.  “Better leave now, pet.  It’s gonna be awhile before I’m pretty again – or much help to you.”















Making a snap decision, Buffy started looking around the crypt for something she could use to clean wounds.  “You never were pretty,” she tossed over her shoulder.  “Is there water, soap, a first aid kit around here?  Spike? Spike?”















Seeing that he had lost consciousness, she continued her search, finally going downstairs.  She cringed as she remembered the last time she’d been in that part of the crypt.  Shaking off memories of being chained up, Dru trying to kill her, Harmony mad at everybody – she found some sheets and towels, a sharp knife (interesting bedroom accessory, she mused), and a bottle of vodka.















As she approached Spike’s inert body, she had to remind herself that he only looked dead because he WAS dead.  Had he really been killed, he would be just a pile of dust.  Using the knife to cut off what was left of his tee shirt, she began patting the wounds with a vodka-soaked towel.  With a hiss of pain, Spike’s eyes flew open and he growled,  “Bloody Hell, Slayer, what are you doing?”















“Cleaning you up,” she said.  “You’ll heal faster”.















“Well, stop it! It hurts!”















“Don’t be such a baby – and hold still,” she snapped.















“If I could move, I’d whack you and to hell with the headache,” he groaned.















“Well, you can’t, so you won’t, so there.  You know, I could learn to enjoy this,” she smiled as he continued to hiss and mutter every time she started on a new wound.















“What? Torturing me?  That’s foreplay to a vampire, you know……..”















“Shut up or I’ll pour the whole bottle on you, “ she growled, a flush creeping up her cheeks.















With his good eye, Spike noticed the flush and felt the heat off her body.  (Well, well, well) he thought to himself.  (Made the Slayer blush).















(What the hell am I doing?) Buffy wondered to herself, as she continued finding places on Spike’s body to cleanse and bandage.  Finally, all the visible wounds were cleaned and the worst ones covered with makeshift bandages.  She had even gently wrapped his ribs with wide strips of sheet to help hold them in place until they healed.  Spike managed to sit up so that she could wrap the strips around his body and to her surprise he didn’t have any sarcastic or lewd remarks to make while she was so close and reaching around him with the bandages.  Lost in his painful fog, Spike was acutely aware of Buffy’s nearness and never-before-seen gentleness, but he was too bemused by her scent and the warmth coming off her body to say anything snarky.















Seeing his shirtless body up close, Buffy remembered what the bot had said about seeing him naked.  “Can see what she meant,” she muttered to herself.















“What who meant, love?”















Buffy realized she had spoken her thought out loud and she felt another flush rising up her cheeks.  This time it felt like her whole body was burning.















Avoiding Spike’s questioning look, she quickly tied off the last of the bandages and gently pushed him back down – telling herself she was not touching him unnecessarily…  “Where, where else are you hurt?” she asked.  He smirked up at her as well as he could with his swollen face and said, “No where else visible with pants on.”















Buffy took a deep breath and said, “All right then, let me see.  It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen a man in his underwear.”  She reached gingerly for the waistband of his jeans to finish her ministrations no matter how embarrassing.















“Don’t wear underwear, love, “ he drawled and laughed, painfully, at the look on her face.















Buffy snatched her hand back like it was on fire and knew her face was red again. “I’ve blushed more in the last 10 minutes than I have in the last 10 months,” she thought to herself. “What is wrong with me?”















Steeling herself and closing her eyes (oh, that will be useful!), she reached forward again and said, “Xander and Giles said you couldn’t walk. They thought you might have a broken leg.”















Spike looked thoughtfully at her flaming red face and the determined look on it and gently removed her hand from his zipper. “Actually, Slayer, I think I have two broken legs.  But there’s nothing for it but to let them heal.  You’d hurt me worse pulling the pants off than just leaving them where they are.  I do ‘preciate the thought, though.  Maybe in a couple of days, when I’m feeling better, you might want to…….”















(Stupid, stupid! Couldn’t let it go, could you? Leave it to the idiot to spoil the moment,) he thought to himself as Buffy snatched back her hand and stood up straight, eyes blazing, “You are such a pig, Spike!”















“I’m sorry, love.  I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do.  But I need only three things right now – time, rest and…….”















“That’s two.  What’s the third one?”















He just opened his good eye and looked at her flatly.















“Oh! Oh – you need blood, don’t you?  Human blood?”















“Two out of three’s enough.  I’ll be all right in a few days or so,” his voice trailed off and she could tell he was going to sleep again.















Deciding she had done all she could for awhile, Buffy turned and left the crypt, closing the door carefully so that the sunlight couldn’t get in.  She made the walk home on automatic pilot, shifting scenes from the last three plus years going through her mind.  Spike and Dru torturing Angel, her mother hitting Spike with an ax just before he would have killed her, Spike kidnapping Willow and Xander to get Dru back and fighting off other vampires with Buffy and Angel to get ingredients for the spell he wanted, Spike offering to help her stop Angelus to save the world (and his girl friend) from destruction. Spike and her mother sitting in the kitchen chatting about soap operas over cocoa, Spike in Xander’s Hawaiian shirt and shorts (had to smile at that one – sure didn’t look like a Big Bad then), Spike trailing Dawn around Sunnydale in the evenings so that nothing evil would get her, Spike giving her his ring when Willow’s spell had them thinking they were in love and getting married.  Spikes’s kisses while she sat on his lap in Giles’s apartment planning the wedding, his hands roaming her body while they kissed and squabbled and kissed some more.  The feel of his body under hers just before the spell was broken…OK, so not going to dwell on that!























(What am I doing?) the small blond wondered as she slipped out the door of the hospital, two bags of O positive tucked under her jacket.  Stopping only to dust two fledglings that popped up just as she entered the cemetery, Buffy made her way to Spike’s crypt.   She reminded herself that he needed this blood because of what he’d gone through for her and pushed open the door.  There was no light inside and she began feeling around for the candles she knew were there.  When she found them, she realized she had nothing to light them with.  Using her Slayer senses, she felt her way to the tomb and found Spike’s body just where she had left it that afternoon.  He was apparently still asleep or unconscious and she cautiously felt around his pockets until she located the Zippo she knew he always carried.  Biting her lip, she put her hand in the front pocket of his jeans, leaning across his body to do so.  Just as she hooked the lighter with her finger, she felt him stir and his drawled “looking for something, love?” made her jump and drop it to the floor.















“Now look what you did!” she grumbled.  “I’ll never find it now.”  She crawled around on the floor until she located the lighter and lit two of the bigger candles.  As the light hit Spike’s battered face, Buffy gasped and unconsciously drew back.  She had forgotten how truly injured he was.















“Sorry, love.  I told you I wouldn’t be pretty for awhile. Heal from the inside out, we do.”















“No, no, I’m sorry.  I just forgot how bad you…how it looked. That’s all.”  She tentatively reached her hand towards his cut cheek, then stopped and flushed (“oh my god, here I go again!”), reaching instead into her jacket for the blood.  “I brought you something – thought it might help.”















Spike just stared, looking back and forth between her face and the blood in complete amazement.  “You stole blood? For me?”  The love, lust, and admiration he’d felt for her for the last year took a sudden twist and a whole new dimension was added.















“Yeah, well, don’t read too much into it.  I need you healthy to help me protect Dawn and fight Glory.”  She was embarrassed and turned away to look for something to put the blood in.















“Let me have it, then,” he said, looking hungrily at the bags.  When she just looked at him with her eyebrows raised, he explained, “I still can’t walk, pet.  Maybe by tomorrow – the blood will help.”















“I’m sorry. I didn’t think… here, do you have a cup I can put it in?”  She held the bags out to him and flinched a little at the electricity that seemed to jump between them when their hands brushed.















“Don’t need one,” he said as he tore open the first bag and drained it quickly. His fangs had dropped immediately at the scent of human blood.  As he reached to do the same for the second bag, he saw the disgusted look on her face and cursed himself for an idiot, (Stupid git. You did it again).  He stopped and said, “Yes, a cup would be nice.  Should be one on the table there.”  He surreptiously wiped his mouth while her back was turned to get the cup. Pouring the other blood into the cup she silently handed him, he tried to calm the demon inside him that was screaming for all the blood RIGHT NOW!















While he drank, Buffy walked around the crypt, lighting a couple more candles and gently touching things.  She purposefully kept her back to him until he was finished and said, “You can turn around now, Slayer. I’m decent”.















In the renewed candlelight he looked noticeably better than he had in the afternoon.  He could feel the blood’s restorative powers working already as internal organs repaired themselves and bones began to knit.  He closed his eyes and sighed a little as the pain that had kept him unconscious a good bit of the day eased up.















Buffy moved closer and asked, “What’s going on? Are you OK?”















Bright blue eyes popped open and he smiled as best he could with his swollen mouth. “I’m fine, Slayer. Just enjoying the healing process.”















“Well, maybe – I mean, I could take at look at the wounds – see if they need anything…..” her voice trailed off as those amazing eyes looked into and right through her.















“Buffy, as much as I would like to have you here all night, fussing over me, I’ll heal when I heal and there’s not much you can do to speed the process.  The blood helped a lot.  I’ll be a different man tomorrow. You’ll see.  Go home.  Take care of the Niblet.  I’ll let you know as soon as I can be useful.”















“Well, I was just trying to be helpful, “ she huffed.  “But if you don’t want me here…” she turned toward the door and started to stomp out. 















She heard Spike moving behind her and then a strangled, “Bloody hell!”  Whirling around, she was just in time to catch him as he fell off the tomb.















“What are you doing? If I wasn’t here to catch you, you would have set your healing back a whole day or more!”















“Guess it’s a good thing you were here then, eh?” he gritted through his teeth. “Jesus, that hurt!” With a groan, he let her ease him back down onto the slab.  As she worked to lower his body as gently as she could, Buffy continued her scolding, “pretty stupid, trying to move…” as much to cover up her reaction to being so close to his partially clothed body as to actually chastise him. 















She found herself lying across his upper body – one arm behind his back and the other across his body with her face inches away from his.  She had a sudden flashback to their kiss the day before, and felt herself flushing again.  Glancing up quickly to see if he noticed, she found his face twisted into a grimace of pain.  She immediately forgot her (wildly inappropriate! Bad Buffy!) reaction to his body and reached a hand to his face.  “Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry this happened to you…. Please tell me what I can do to make it better.”















“Told you, Slayer, I just need time, rest and blood. You’ve given me what you can. There’s nothing else you can do to speed the process.”















Buffy stood frozen for a minute, running her eyes from his battered face down past his bruised and bloody chest to his legs – still in the jeans he couldn’t take off yet.







“Actually,” she said slowly, “there is.”  She turned away from him and picked up the knife she had used to make bandages.  (Ok, this is only because I need him strong and healthy as soon as possible – not because I can’t stand to see him like this) she thought to her self.  Setting her teeth, she moved to the tomb and slashed her right wrist.















Spike opened his eyes as she leaned over him, pressing her bleeding wrist to his mouth.  His face contorted in fear and he drew his body as far away as he could without falling off. “What are you doing? Are you daft?”















“It’s OK.  The chip won’t fire, you’re not trying to hurt me…”















“It’s not the chip I’m worried about,” he gasped.  Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to take the warm blood that was filling his senses.  “I can’t Buffy. It’s not right.”















“You have to – it’s the only thing that will heal you faster.  I know what Slayer blood can do for an injured person – vampire.”















Ignoring the way he was trying to shrink away from her, she held her wrist over his mouth and allowed the blood to drip onto his parted lips.  Without his volition, his tongue came out and lapped up the drops.  Never taking his eyes off hers, he waited, trembling to see what she would do.  Buffy’s heart was pounding – in fear, anticipation or dread – she couldn’t say, but she held his gaze and touched her bleeding wrist to his lips.  “Take it, Spike. It’s freely given.”















With a groan he stopped fighting his demon nature and fastened his mouth on the cut and began to pull precious Slayer blood into his throat.  The immediate and incredible reaction her body had to that hunger took Buffy by surprise and she almost collapsed to the floor as her knees weakened.  She leaned on the tomb for support for a second, then decided it would be better to be lying down.  Climbing carefully so as not to pull her arm away, she eased herself up beside the sucking vampire and rested her head on his shoulder.  For several minutes she just enjoyed the blissful feeling of being totally relaxed, thinking how easy it would be to just drift off to sleep while Spike continued sucking on her wrist.  She was barely aware that he had stopped suddenly and was frantically shaking her.















“Buffy! Slayer! Wake up.  I didn’t mean to….” The panic in his voice finally penetrated her relaxed state and she sat up groggily.















“Spike? What? Oh!”  The impact of what she had just done hit her.  “Oh my god! Giles is going to kill me.”















“Think I almost handled that for ‘im, love,” he looked at her apologetically.















Buffy tried to slow her pounding heart and breathing while she thought about what happened.  “Why did you stop?” she asked slowly.  “More important – why didn’t I stop you?”















Spike was still holding her arm and rapidly ran his tongue over the wound.  “What are you doing?” she squeaked, trying to ignore how good his tongue felt on her skin even on an open wound.















“Relax, Slayer.  That helps the wound close – see?”  He held up her wrist and she could see the wound was already closing.















“Oh,” she replied in a small voice.  “Why did you stop? How….?”















“You were losing too much blood, too quickly.  I had to stop or kill you – not much of a choice there, pet, “ he touched her cheek gently.  “I don’t know why you didn’t stop me. Should have, you know.”















Suddenly they both became very conscious of the fact that they were lying side-by-side on the rather narrow tomb top.  Buffy’s heart began pounding again and she tried not to think about how good it had felt to be resting on his body while he drank.  Spike was looking at her with an unreadable expression, his normally bright blue eyes darkened with an emotion she wasn’t sure she wanted to recognize.  Very slowly he reached his hand behind her neck and pulled her mouth to his.  Once again, Buffy felt soft, smooth lips on hers.  Before she could move or react, he pulled away and looked at her again.  “Thank you, Slayer”.















Forcing herself to move away from him (and why was that so hard? she wondered.)  Buffy cleared her throat and said as briskly as she could, “Yes, well, you’re welcome.  I mean that’s what you needed, right? You should heal really fast now. Should be able to help me protect Dawn by tomorrow.”















She sat up, intending to get off his bed (Tomb! Tomb! she reminded herself) but was overcome by dizziness and would have fallen if Spike’s strong arms hadn’t gone around her to hold her up.















“So,” he said softly as he pulled her back down beside him, “is that all this was? Get Spike back in fighting shape fast?”















Relaxing into his embrace, she murmured, “Of course, what else would it be?”















“Nothing I guess.  Don’t know what I was thinkin’,” he breathed into her ear and turned his body so he was spooning hers. 















“I need to get home to Dawn….I’m just going to rest here for a minute….” The Slayer’s voice trailed off as she fell asleep wrapped in the arms of her sister’s undead protector.  The former Big Bad, Slayer blood coursing through his body, remained still as only someone with no heartbeat could, thinking, (If my unlife is going to end, let it be now.  Is this even real?).















Spike could feel his bones mending and his wounds healing – the blood of a Slayer being the most powerful tonic a vampire could have.  As his body healed and the pain diminished, he became even more conscious of the beautiful girl sleeping in his arms.  She smelled like herbal shampoo, sunshine (does sunshine have a smell? he wondered) and mostly like Buffy – the unique scent that he was sure he could pick out anywhere, any time.  If there had been any doubt as to how much he loved her, it was gone now.  “I’m yours forever, Slayer,” he whispered. “I will love you until I’m dust, my darlin’ girl, my pet.”  He continued to murmur endearments to the sleeping girl, knowing he would probably never get another chance.















Buffy gradually came awake and tried to remember where she was.  Slayer strength and healing had allowed her to recover quickly from the blood loss that would have put a normal person in the hospital for days.  She was aware of feeling very safe and secure, cared for, even.  She sighed and snuggled closer to the hard body surrounding hers, noting absently how well they fit together.  As her brain woke the rest of the way up, she realized where she was and who she was cuddled up with.  Spike felt her body grow rigid as awareness set in and he sighed as he loosened his grip on her.  (Well, that’s that,) he thought sadly, (Back to being the annoying stalker for me).















Buffy sat up primly tugging on her clothes and not meeting his eyes.  “Well, I guess I dozed off there for a minute.  I’ll just get out of your way now and let you get back to your healing.”  She moved to the edge of the bed (Tomb!), but stopped when Spike touched her arm gently.  “Are you sure you’re alright, pet? I don’t want anything to happen to you on the way home.”















“I’m fine,” she declared, still not looking at him.  “It takes more than a little blood loss to keep me down – even if it…”  Her voice got a quiver in it and she turned suddenly, eyes brimming with tears.  “Spike, what have I, we, done?”















He looked at her in astonishment.  “You gave me what I needed to be useful to you.  That’s all we did.  Look, Buffy, the bones are all mended.  By tomorrow the cuts will all be healed.  I protected Dawn; you helped me heal – nothing for anyone to be upset about here.















“No, you’re right.  Just an exchange of favors.   Nothing to be worried about.  So, you’re better then? No more broken bones or pain?”  She studied his improved but still battered face closely as though she could tell by looking how much healing had taken place.















“Well, I’d probably have less pain if you stayed here awhile,” he looked up at her from under his eyelashes as he patted the space she had just left.















“Tempting as that thought is,” she snapped (Ohmygod! Did I just say that?),  “some of us have better things to do than lie around all day.”















The vampire gave a resigned sigh and sat up, dangling his legs over the side of the tomb.  “Well, it was worth a shot.”















Buffy reached up with both hands and began stretching her body to work out the kinks from sleeping on a cement slab. Arching her back and reaching to either side, she moved and stretched.  When she realized Spike was watching her with open admiration, she stopped quickly and looked embarrassed.  “Don’t stop on my account, Slayer.  I was enjoying the view,” he leered at her.















She felt herself flush again (what is this?) under his admiring look, but decided to ignore it.  “Just finish healing so you’re useful when I need you,” she growled at him.















“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.  “Guess I’d better check out those broken legs. Want to help?” he gestured to his blood caked jeans and leered at her again.  She didn’t bother to answer, just rolled her eyes, then felt her heart begin to race again as she realized he was planning to take them off right then.  He already had them unsnapped and unzipped while she was still frozen in panic.  Naked, he was going to be naked! This was so not a good idea!  Torn between wanting to see the rest of his body (purely to assess damage, she assured herself), and wanting to run out the door squealing like a 15 year old virgin, Buffy found herself frozen to the spot and unable to move.  Striving to look casual, she said in an off hand manner, “Well, yes, I guess we’d better see if you can walk yet.”















With no attempt to hide, and no apparent shame, the blond vampire stood up and dropped his jeans to the floor, grimacing as they pulled the scabs off of partially healed wounds.  Buffy gasped in spike to herself – partly from the sight of his naked body, but primarily because she wasn’t prepared to see so many untreated wounds.  Belatedly, she realized she was staring and raised her eyes to his face in horror.  “Come on, love.  You didn’t think she was going to ignore a whole half a body, did you?” he smiled.  “Our Hell god is too thorough for that.”















Buffy moved toward him and reached a hand toward the worst of the wounds and bruises – wondering if they were where the bones had been broken.  “Oh Spike, what….” She raised her stricken eyes to his and felt the prickle of tears again.  Spike took her hands gently and said, “Hey, Slayer, it’s OK. They’re healing just like everything else.  The scabs were stuck to the pants, that’s all.  See, they’ve already stopped bleeding.”















She could see that they had, in fact, stopped bleeding and determined that they probably looked worse than they actually were.  “Well, OK, if you’re sure you’re all right.” she said doubtfully.  “I guess I’d better get back before everyone wonders where I’ve been.”  She turned away but was stopped when she remembered he was still holding her hands.  “Uh, Spike? I’m going to need to take my hands with me.”















“Right, better get back to the little Scoobies before they come looking for you.  Wouldn’t do for them to find you with a naked man.” He released her hands reluctantly and debated turning away so that she couldn’t see the effect her touch had had on him, 















Before he could move, she snapped back at him much too quickly, “Vampire, you’re a vampire, Spike. Not a man.”















His shoulders slumped and leaned back against the tomb; somehow managing to look dejected and sexy at the same time.  Buffy bit her lip and continued, “Spike, look. This, what happened here – it doesn’t change anything – between us, I mean.”  (Doesn’t it?) she wondered to herself).















“You keep telling yourself that, pet.”  He pulled himself carefully up onto the tomb and lay back with his eyes shut.















The Slayer hesitated another minute, then said softly, “I’ll check back tomorrow night, OK?”















“Whatever you say, Slayer.”















Oddly disappointed when he didn’t bother to look up to watch her leave, she walked out the door.  As she reached back to close it, she had one last glimpse of his naked body lying on the tomb.  From the door all the bruises were hardly visible and he looked like a marble statue (a very well-built marble statue)  “I say tomorrow,” she whispered as she shut the door.  Inside the crypt, a small smile spread across the vampire’s face.  “Tomorrow,” he repeated.