#spuffy ff

“You could say that,” she said, holding her arm. He frowned as she swayed slightly.

“Well come in before I have unwanted guests at my door.”

He stepped aside and she entered the dark crypt. He did a quick scan of her. She had a blackening eye which would probably be fully healed in a couple days, a cut above said black eye, and another cut on the arm she was cradling. She walked with a limp and he saw some dirt on her right knee along with some blood seeping through the jean material. 

“Come on, Luv, lets get you cleaned up.”

Buffy didn’t argue. Which let Spike know she was pretty hurt. He went down into the lower level of his crypt and he followed. She sat at the end of his bed, slowly lowering onto it as he rummaged for the First Aid kit. One he’d procured when he’d taken up hunting with her friends after she’d died the second time. It’d been used before, mostly on Xander, the nitwit always getting himself into a bind.

“All right, Slayer, Dr. Spike to your rescue.” She scoffed at that and his scarred eyebrow rose. “What?”

“Dr. Spike?”

“Would you prefer Nurse Spike? I could work with that, too,” he said, tongue pressing against his teeth as he took in her disheveled look. She again scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe this was a mistake,” she said, ready to stand again. 

“Oh, what? You gunna go back out there now in the middle of the night with all the nasties out there looking to find themselves a tasty midnight snack?” 

“Better than being here.”

“Oi. I didn’t ask you to come here,” he said, tossing the medical kit onto the bed. “I was perfectly fine watching the telly the rest of the night.”

“Let me guess. Passions?”

“Perhaps!”

Buffy stood and went to the ladder. He watched her struggle before slowly going up a rung at a time. When her ankle was level with his eyes he grabbed it and halted her movements. 

“Slayer, Buffy, just... Please come down. Let me look you over.”

He was worried about her. He cared too bloody much. If she’d have said no he’d have followed her home and risked the sun to make sure she stayed safe. Instead she slowly came back down. Which let him know it was bad. He guided her to the bed and they said nothing as he started cleaning her up. First her face, ridding it of the blood and dirt. He bandaged the cut then went to the fridge where he kept his beer and blood cold. He handed her a cold can and instructed her to press it against her eye. Her shirt was in the way so he ripped it off her. She protested, loudly, but he ignored it. 

“Spike! What the hell?!”

“I need to see your whole arm.”

“Then ask me to take the shirt off, don’t just rip it!”

“I have a shirt for you to wear.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Fine. Next time I’ll ask. Now hold still.”

She hissed in a breath as he moved her arm at the elbow. He used her torn shirt to make a sling for her. Best he could really do. And boy did she look a sight, one arm in a sling with the other holding a can to her face. 

“What happened here?” he asked, hands cradling her knee, making her hiss in a breath. 

“Group of vamps caught me off guard. I dusted three of them, one tackled me and my knee slammed into a gravestone. As I finished the last of them two demons came out. They’d been waiting. My black eye is from a wheelbarrow they threw at me.”

“The mighty Slayer, taken down by a gardening tool,” he said with a smirk. 

“Hey!” She pouted. “It was a big wheelbarrow.”

“I bet it was. Poor kitten.”

“And my knee really hurts.”

“Let us have a look, shall we?”

“Don’t rip off my pants, I need to wear them home.”

Carefully, Spike got her pants unbuttoned. He pulled them and her boots off, making her shiver each time his cooler hands touched her heated skin. The knee was purple all around the knee but nothing felt broken. 

“Sprained it good, Luv, it needs ice. Sadly I have none.” He straightened up, grabbing his duster off the back of the chair. “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you...”

“Gunna get you some ice.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Need some smokes anyway.” He nodded toward the bed. “Relax till I get back.”

He climbed up the ladder, leaving her alone. She didn’t want to lay around in just her bra and panties so she dug around and found a black shirt that didn’t smell like smoke. She just managed to get the sling back on the right way when he came back with a bag of ice. He pulled out a couple plastic bags from his pocket and filled them both with ice. He motioned for her to lay on the bed and she did. He placed one bag on her knee and handed her the other for her face. 

“Ohhhh cold,” she complained, but it felt so good. 

“Don’t be a baby,” he said, tossing the leftover ice in the fridge. It would melt eventually, but he wanted to try and keep it as solid as possible if she needed more. He reached for a bottle of whiskey and took a long drink before offering it to her. She took it, drank about two shots worth, and made a face before handing it back. 

“Sun will be up in a couple hours. Rest until then.”

“Spike?” Buffy paused before continuing. “Thanks.”

“Anything for you,” he said before going up the ladder. Leaving her alone. She almost, almost called out for him to stay. Instead, she lay back on the sheets, pulled the blanket over herself, and let herself sleep.

"You know what I want," he said softly and she tensed, looking over her shoulder at the vampire who was licking his lips in a suggestive way. She rolled her eyes, slamming her dresser a bit louder than she meant to. "I’ve been thinkin’ about you all night."

"Don’t really care," she said. "I’m busy right now. I’m sure you can find something else to occupy the night."

"C’mon, love," he said, slowly standing, reminding Buffy of a jungle cat slowly tracking their prey. She remained where she was, but was hyper aware of him in that moment. The scent of smoke and leather clung to him and she knew if she kissed him now she’d taste the whiskey she smelled on his breath. "Give us a kiss."

"I said no," she said. "Dawn is downstairs and I have to go on patrol."

"After?" he asked.

She huffed her breath, pulling her fingers through her hair, wincing when she felt the sticky mustard. She looked up at him, wanting to be annoyed, but that familiar dark feeling of arousal and want was filling her. Ever since being brought back from the dead she knew there was something wrong with her. Something missing. He helped fill that void and it both scared her and excited her.

"Giles said something about increased attacks over at the high school. You could help me out."

"Then after?" he asked.

"You cease to be my problem," she said, sharply turning on her heel to head to the bathroom. "Dumb, British, annoying, pain in the ass, vampire!"

She slammed the door, making the items on the wall rattle, and he just chuckled. Reaching into his coat pockets he pulled out his smokes and brought one to his lips as he strolled to her still open window. He looked back at the bed and shot the stuffed pig a wink.