A/N- I own nothing. It's very sad.

So i've written something new, my loves! what can i say, my bio class is very boring.

summary- Goes AU after Intervention. Buffy stops being such a cold fish for a little bit, and lordy, lordy, guess what happens? Just a smutty little thing to try to make you smile. Gimme some reviews if you like it! ~ Kitten

"The guy was just so thrashed."

It's amazing what just a couple little words will do to a person. Hearing Xander feel sympathy for Spike wasn't something I ever thought I'd experience. Knowing Spike was in that situation because of me, because of Dawn, didn't sit well with me either. And what if he'd told Glory who the Key was? I needed to get Dawn out of town. And possibly finally kill Spike.

"Melt that thing down into scrap" I said to Willow, gesturing to Spike's disgusting sexbot. "But first, I want its clothes."

"Why?" Willow asked, fiving me that look she gave me when they thought I was sleeping with Spike.

"I'm going to pay a visit to our village pervert," I said. "I need to see how much he told. If Glory knows who the Key is, we need to run. Get Dawn and the gang together and ready to bolt if he spilled the goods."

"You'll be careful?" Willow asked. She handed me her cell phone. "Call when you find out anything."

"I'll be back soon, one way or another," I said, nodding. Willow helped me remove the Bot's clothing and I made myself up to look like that vile toy. What had Spike been thinking? He said he loved me, but then he had that thing made. This is why I can't ever love him. He doesn't know what love is. Love and sex aren't the same thing. Not even close.

Love sets you on fire, burns you whole until you don't know how you ever lived without it. But it makes you feel safe, cared for, too. Love doesn't fade, and it doesn't leave. When you tell someone you love them, you hand your heart over on a platter and trust that person enough not to break it. I've loved, and when I did, my heart got broken. I can't afford to love again.

I made my way to Spike's crypt, wanting nothing more than to curl up in my bed and cry. But my Calling doesn't rest, and Dawn needs me to make sure she's safe. So even though I haven't slept in two days, and some mysterious thing in the desert tells me death is my gift, I'm out again. Yay. When I pushed the door open to Spike's crypt, I pasted a smile on my face and flounced into his home.

He was lying on a stone tablet, looking more like a corpse than I've seen before. He opened his eyes slowly. "Spike! You're covered in sexy wounds." God, I cringed at my own words. How could he really have preferred that robot's stupidity? Though, I guess it didn't insult him every ten seconds.

"Yeah, I feel real sexy," he said. I had to admit, that deep rumble of his voice was kind of sexy. He sat up excruciatingly slowly. He had to be in a lot of pain. I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Where you been?" he asked.

"I fell down and got confused," I said, trying to keep my best airhead voice up. "Willow fixed me. She's gay." I smiled and nodded like this was the best thing ever.

"Will fixed you?" Damn, probably should've cooked up a better lie. "Thought they'd melt you into scrap." Hmm, first correct thought you've had so far.

"They were confused too," I said. I smiled brightly at him. "Would you like to ravage me now?" Oh, god, what if he actually expected me to…?

"Give us a minute," he said hoarsely. Phew. "Got some bones need mending."

"Why did you let that Glory hurt you?" I asked, touching his face gently. Xander was right; he was thrashed. Bruises covered every inch of him that I could see. One eye was swollen shut and the other was purple and bloodshot. He looked like hell.

"She wanted t' know who the Key was," he said.

"Oh, well I can tell her, and then you'll-" I said, spinning for the door. He shouted after me, stopping me in my tracks.

"No!" He coughed hard with the force of his shout. He needed blood soon if he was ever going to recover from this. "You can't ever. Glory never finds out."

"Why?"

"'Cuz Buffy- the other, not-so-pleasant Buffy- anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn' live, her bein' in that much pain. Let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did." Okay, so maybe he did love me. And Dawn was safe. He hadn't given her up, and from what he said, I doubted he ever would. I frowned thoughtfully at what he'd said about not being able to live with me being hurt. I leaned in slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his battered and broken lips. He kissed me back for a second, and then pulled away, confusion written all over his face. I didn't say anything, just turned around to leave.

"And my robot?" Damn him, always thinking with his penis. Put two and two together, dumbass.

"The robot is gone," I said with a heavy sigh. "The robot was gross and obscene."

"It wasn' s'posed t'-" he trailed off.

"Don't," I said sharply. "That… thing, it… it wasn't even real." I turned away as he hung his head. I stopped at the door, my hand on the door. "What you did, for me and Dawn… that was real," I said, glancing back over my shoulder at his broken form. He met my eyes. "I won't forget it." I escaped out into the sunshine, gasping for breath I hadn't realized I'd needed. My stomach turned, the nerves and emotions finally bubbling over, and I heaved into a bush. When the upchucking had ceased, I leaned back against a tombstone and pulled out Willow's cell phone.

"Hey Will, it's me," I said once she answered.

"Oh, Buffy, thank the goddess," Willow said. "What did he say?"

"He didn't say anything," I said. "He didn't tell Glory. We're safe for the moment." Willow let out a half-sob of relief, and I realized I was crying too. I wiped the tears from my face and sniffled.

"Buffy?" Dawn's voice was on the phone now. "How's Spike?"

"Beaten to a pulp and pouty over losing his toy," I said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. She sighed heavily. "Buffy, I know you hate him, but could you please make sure Spike gets some blood? It'll take him days to heal if he doesn't feed. You might want him dead, but he is my friend."

"I don't want him dead, Dawnie," I said absently. I really wasn't sure I could go back into that crypt. My stomach did another funny flip when I pictured his battered face again. He'd done that for me, to protect Dawn and me. Because he didn't want us to get hurt. I didn't want to care about him, but how could I not when he'd nearly given his life for me?

"Buffy?" Dawn asked.

"Huh? Sorry, I was spacing," I said.

"I said are you going to help him?" Dawn said. "'Cuz I can call Clem- he's a poker buddy of Spike's, he might be able to help him-"

"I'll do it, Dawn," I said. "I'll go to Willie's and get him some blood."

"And Buffy? I know you don't like it when he drinks human, but it'll help him more than pig's blood right now."

"I know," I said. "Don't worry, Sweetie. I'll take care of him."

"And by 'take care of him' you don't mean 'stake him', right?" she asked.

"Dawn," I said sternly. Did she really think I'd kill him after what he'd just done for us? "I'm not going to hurt him. I'll go get him some blood, patch him up, and put him to bed. He'll be fine."

"Okay..." She didn't sound like she believed me.

"Look, I'll be home in a couple of hours, and we'll go check on him tomorrow, okay? You and me." If I let her come with, she'd probably stop whining so much.

"Okay!" There, much peppier. "Then I'll see you later. Be careful, okay? And give my love to Spike."

"Sure," I said, standing and heading towards Willie's. I picked up some O positive, an order of hot wings, and a bottle of water to rinse out the taste of bile in my mouth. Feeling generous, I even picked up a six-pack of his beer of choice and some cigarettes. If anything this would keep him from stealing for a week or two. Tossing in a box of Wheetabix, I took my haul back to Restfield.

I knocked this time, easing the door open. "Spike?" He didn't answer. Oh, god, what if Glory had come back, taken him again? I pushed open the door fully and rushed in. Then I saw him, still on the sarcophagus, fast asleep or passed out. Sighing, I put the beer, blood, and hot wings in his fridge. I knew where he kept the first-aid kit, but it was downstairs, in that room where he chained me up a couple weeks ago. Gritting my teeth, I pulled the trap door open and went downstairs.

The first thing I noticed was the bed, a giant canopied four-poster in the middle of the room. It hadn't been there before. Covered in dark red and black satin, it looked sinfully lush. Then I noticed that the chains were gone from the wall, as was the Buffy-shrine. All that was left was one picture, of me, Mom, and Dawn, smiling for the camera. It had been taken on Dawn's last birthday. I touched Mom's face, choking back tears. She had been friends with Spike. And he certainly was capable of human emotions, as much as I'd like to deny it, more than any other vampire I'd met. Did he miss her, too? Did he lie awake at night –like I did- wishing that he could have one more conversation, one more cup of hot cocoa, with her?

I wiped away the tears that had fallen and left the picture in its place. He should keep that one. I grabbed his first aid kit and nearly ran out of the room. Being in his bedroom was a bit much. Those butterflies had started back up again in my stomach, but I forced them down as I found a basin and filled it with a water bottle I found in the fridge. Setting the basin next to his head, I found a pair of scissors in the first aid kit and a rag. I cut his shirt off, exposing his chest to the air. His lovely porcelain skin was nearly completely purple with bruises. No one had better skin than Spike. It was much too flawless for a hunter, far too beautiful for a demon. I winced when he flinched from my touch on his ribs. They were probably broken, and judging by the fact that he wasn't doing his usual breathing pantomime, it was possible he had a punctured lung. His shoulder looked like it was dislocated, and one of those sharp cheekbones appeared to be broken. It would take him days to heal from this, even with human blood.

I wet the rag in the basin and went to work washing the blood and grime from his skin. Glory had stabbed him with something a few times, and the wounds were gaping holes in his torso. Once he was clean, I touched his face softly. "You stupid man. Why'd you let her hurt you like this?"

"Have… t' protect… the girl," he wheezed drowsily. The sound of his pained voice confirmed my theory of internal injuries. "Buffy?"

"Yeah, it's me," I said softly. "How do you feel?"

"Like hell."

"Well, then you look exactly like you feel," I chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "I brought you some blood. It'll help you get better, okay?" He nodded stiffly and I hopped off the tablet. I poured a coffee mug half- full of the O positive I'd brought him and popped it into the microwave. When it was done, I pulled a slim dagger from my boot and slit my wrist open. I heard him murmur something incoherent as I filled the cup up fully. Wrapping my wrist up in another rag, I took the mug back to him.

"I'm gonna go slow, okay?" I said. "I need you to drink."

"You're bleedin'," he said.

"Shh, just drink," I said. I propped his head up gently with one hand and brought the cup up to his lips. He sipped slowly, and then sputtered.

"You're givin' me your blood, Slayer?" he asked, non-swollen eye opened wide.

"Shh," I said again. "It'll help you heal."

"No," he said, twisting away from me. His injured shoulder hit the concrete slab and he hissed in pain.

"Spike, stop," I said. If he kept this up, he was going to hurt himself more. I pushed him back down onto the slab. "Look," I said. "You're hurt. You got that way helping me. So let me help you, okay?"

"Don'," he insisted. "Don' let me-" Was he really rejecting Slayer blood? The guy came to Sunnydale three years ago for the sole purpose of making my neck his chalice, after all. Why was he saying no now?

"Spike," I said gently. When had I ever said his name this much in one conversation? "You're not feeding from the source. Hell, it's not even all mine. It's just to get you well, okay?" He nodded stiffly and I picked the mug up again. Holding his head in my hand, I fed him slowly, trying not to look into his eyes –or eye, I guess. When he'd finished the blood, he laid his head back down. He looked exhausted.

"Hold on," I said. I grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it under his head.

"Thanks," he said. "I still feel like hell, though."

"You still look like hell," I countered. I smiled at him, hoping to calm his nerves. I still needed to fix his shoulder, and his ribs needed to be bound. He wasn't going to like me very much in a minute, so I should butter him up now, right? "I need to fix your shoulder now, Spike," I said. "I think it's dislocated."

"Feels it," he mumbled.

"Okay, this is going to be super awkward, but here goes." I climbed up on the sarcophagus with him, one knee on either side of his lean hips. 'Cuz I needed leverage, see. I tried to ignore the way his pupils dilated, or the very obvious bulge in his pants, but it was damn hard. Hard to ignore him, I mean. Not that he was hard- oh, god, never mind. And then I had to try really hard to ignore the heat that was suddenly pooling between my own legs, but that was even harder. From the way his nose flared, I guessed he could probably smell my reaction. Well, damn. This was going to make my whole 'the only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious' argument moot.

"Jus' do it, pet," he said quietly. He gritted his teeth and I pressed down hard on his shoulder. The joint popped back together and he shouted out in pain.

"Sorry," I said, moving to get off of him. He grabbed my hips hard with both hands, keeping me on top of him. "Spike," I said. It was supposed to be a protest. So why did it come out a moan?

"Jus' gimme a mo'," he said. That hard length pressed between my thighs just wasn't going away, was it?

"Spike." There, that one sounded appropriately whiny. He let me go, and I climbed off him slowly. Because I didn't want to hurt him. That's all, I swear. So when I finally got him off- got off him!

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. There really isn't a word strong enough when you realized you suddenly want to lick every inch of your former enemy's body. Every inch. Damn.

"You okay, love?" he asked. I realized I was staring at the defined ridges of his abs. I have mentioned damn, right?

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, tearing my eyes away from the hard muscles. "Uhm, I need to wrap your ribs up. It'll help them heal, make it hurt less."

"'Kay," he said. He tried to sit up, but the look on his face was too much. I braced him, helping him sit up slowly.

"I'll try to be gentle," I said. "But it's gotta be tight."

"Don' worry 'bout hur'in' me, kitten," he said. God, his voice was sexy, especially when his accent was this thick. Sometimes I can barely understand him, but that low rumble hardly ever fails to get my panties wet. Wait, strike that. I did so not admit to having naughty dreams about Spike since that engagement spell. Except I just did. God dammit, what's wrong with me? Damn Freud and his slips.

Huffing, I got an ace bandage from the first aid kit and started wrapping his chest. Apparently I was openly seething, because Spike grabbed my hand. "What's wrong, pet?" he asked. I sighed.

"Nothing, I'm just having a fight with myself," I muttered.

"'Bout what?" Okay, no one that beaten up should be allowed to smirk like that.

"Nothing," I said.

"'F you don' tell me, 'll assume the wors'," he said. "Tha' you're gonna put a poor vamp outta his misery 'r somethin'."

"Spike, I wouldn't do that to you," I said. What's stranger, it was true. The thought of a world without Spike made my stomach turn and a lump catch in my throat. Oh god. Was I actually having feelings for him? Other than hate and loathing, I mean? I needed to get out of here.

"You need some more blood," I said, going back over to the refrigerator. I untied the rag from my wrist and cut open my wrist again. I gave him more of my blood than the donated stuff this time, so he could heal faster. He was still sitting up, so instead of feeding him, I handed the mug over. I watched as he drank, eyes flashing gold. He probably wanted to change into game-face, but he didn't. Not for the first time, I admired his control. He drained the mug and set it down.

"Thank you, love," he said quietly.

"There's a couple packets still in the fridge, and some hot wings if you get the munchies."

"Ya din't have t' do that, pet," he said.

"You didn't have to let Glory beat you to a pulp," I said, touching his cheek gently. The swelling had gone down some so he could now open both of his eyes. "You saved Dawn's life today. Don't think I'll forget that any time soon." He smiled wearily at me. He looked absolutely exhausted. But he wouldn't be safe up here. "You need to rest," I said. "C'mon, I'll help you get downstairs."

"This is fine," he said.

"And if some demon or Glories minions come by? You're in no shape to fight, Spike."

"S'pose you're right," he said. He slid slowly from the sarcophagus. His knees buckled at first, but I caught him under his good shoulder. Slowly, we walked to the trap door to the basement.

"Need a shower," he said once we'd made it downstairs. "Don' think you could help, Slayer?"

"Uhm, Spike, I'm not really comfortable helping you shower," I said. Truth be told, if I saw him naked, I'm not sure I could control myself.

"Right, sorry," he said.

"But, um, I'll… stick around," I said. "If you need me, gimme a yell." He nodded, limping slowly to the niche in the cave where he'd made his shower. "Wait," I said, coming up behind him. I touched his side gently. "I'll have to change your bandages anyway, so you might as well wash some of the grime off first." He nodded and let me unwrap the dressing. Even after only a few minutes, the bandage was stained with blood. He moved to the shower while I went back upstairs to dispose of the bloodied bandage and get a new one. I took my time, still listening for any signs of distress from him. But when I came back down, Spike was out of the shower. The way his hair stuck up was just too cute, by the way. He had a soft white towel wrapped around his waist and he was perched on the side of the bed.

"'Kay, let's do this again," I said. He nodded and lifted his arms away from his torso. I tried to be gentle, but he winced in pain anyway. "Sorry," I said. When I finished wrapping him up, I let my hands fall away and backed up.

"So, you should… get some rest," I said awkwardly. I mean, what exactly does one say to one's former enemy turned sorta friend? Especially what does one say when that sorta friend is mostly naked?

Spike lay down on his bed, nearly collapsing against his pillows. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" I said. "I promised Dawn I'd bring her to check up on her favorite vampire."

"Thanks, love," he said, eyes drifting closed. I stayed until I thought he was asleep, then covered him with a sheet and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Sweet dreams, Hero-boy," I said. He murmured in his sleep, but all I caught was 'Love you, Buffy.' I sighed. Yeah, I know you do, Spike. Stupid man…pire. I left the crypt after I made sure everything was secure. No one would guess that he was there unless they knew where to look. Satisfied, I went home.

When I got there, Dawn nearly jumped on me, demanding to know how Spike was. "He's okay, Dawnie," I said. "I got him some blood and cleaned him up. He was sleeping when I left."

"You just left him there alone?" she demanded. "What if they come back for him?"

"I put him in the lower level," I said. "He's got a bed there. I made sure the top level looks like no one's home. He's safe. And I'll go check on him after my patrol, okay?" That seemed to appease her for awhile. Ignoring the rest of my friends, I went upstairs for a bath. I was covered in Spike's blood, and my muscles ached from the restraint of being so gentle with him. I wasn't used to having to control myself around him. He was always so strong.

I turned on the water for my bath and stripped away my dirty clothes. I tossed some bath salts into the water and lit the candles I kept in the bathroom. I just wanted to relax. Turning off the harsh overhead light, I slipped into the warm, welcoming water and felt my muscles instantly relax.

I meant to just relax, really. But then my hands slipped over my breasts and down the skin of my belly. Suddenly, I was stroking the soft skin of my inner thighs and wishing I had strong, cool hands to do it for me. It was definitely not the first time I'd fantasized about Spike touching me, but it was the first time I'd done so after realizing I was in lo- like with him. Damn.

My hands were possessed, I swear. And apparently, so was my mind, because I was picturing blue eyes smiling down at me while a strong, hard body made love to me. Wait- made love? Screwed, that's what I meant. Because there was no way I was in love with Spike.

My orgasm came unbidden, and Spike's name was suddenly echoing off the tile around me. I'd never actually said his name when I got off thinking about him. Double damn. I was falling for Spike. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, sole remaining heir to the line of Aurelius, and I, Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, was falling for him. Giles was gonna kill me.

~ woo, naughty, naughty girl. there's more to come, so if you want more, leave me some lovin'!