Scavenger Hunt players PLEASE read note at bottom when you have
finished the story.
****************
Buffy took the kit with the wrong hand and as she grasped the
edges, a searing pain tore through her arm and she dropped it.
Of course, it fell to the floor.
"Stupid vampire!"
She glared irritably at Spike's retreating form. Even in the
darkness of their room he looked gorgeous. He didn't turn
around, so she sat there, seething, while she waited for him to
come back.
Thankfully, he wasn't gone for long. When he returned, he had
gotten rid of the towel and was wearing a pair of black, very
tight-fitting jeans and nothing else. Barefoot even. Buffy
swallowed, her anger dissipating very quickly, and she looked
away. She had to dress her wound. .
**Concentrate, Buffy!** she told herself. **Ignore sexy vampire.
Think of pain, pain. Pain good. Spike bad.** Buffy frowned at
that thought, but decided not to examine it too closely.
She winced as she moved to retrieve the bandages from the floor.
"Can you hand me the first-aid kit?" she snarled after valiantly
trying to pick it up for several minutes, while Spike just stood
watching, arms crossed and an annoying grin on his face.
"I just gave it to you," he said conversationally.
"Yeah, well I dropped it," Buffy sneered.
"Obviously."
She just glared at him.
"Say 'pretty please'," he grinned.
Buffy tried to reach the first-aid kit again, not succeeding.
She shot him a venomous look. Unfortunately, she was in no shape
to move around. Dark spots danced before her eyes and the wound
in her arm was throbbing painfully. It wasn't like any wound
she'd ever felt before.
"Pretty please," she muttered, and fell back on the bed,
defeated.
**There has to be something wrong with me. I don't give up that
easily,** she thought.
Spike bent down, picked up the kit and threw it at her. "There
you go."
"Ouch," Buffy cried as it landed on the bed, bouncing against
her injured arm. "Watch where you throw that thing!"
"Sorry, luv," Spike said tonelessly. "But I thought you said
that
you could take care of that yourself."
**Well, I have to, don't I?** Buffy thought. This was all his
fault!
If Spike laid his hands on her she'd be fighting a losing
battle, trying to keep her hands to herself. If he didn't help
her, god only knew when she'd get her wound bandaged properly.
For a minute, she contemplated getting out of bed, to ask Willow
or Giles to help out, but she decided against it. It was dark,
and this house was about as safe and trustworthy as ... Spike!
"Just get dressed," she snarled and turned her gaze toward the
first-aid kit.
Still she couldn't help watching him from the corner of her eye.
His skin was so pale and so flawless, even more so than Angel's.
"What? You don't like what you see?" Spike said and made a
little pirouette at the foot of the bed. It should have looked
ridiculous. Only, it didn't. His muscles flexed beneath that
perfect skin and Buffy quickly started rummaging around in the
first-aid kit with her uninjured hand.
"I ain't getting dressed for bed, luv," he said when she refused
to look at him. "But if you can't keep your lovely little hands
to yourself...."
"You wish!" Buffy hissed.
If he only knew ...
Pain throbbed through her shoulder, all the way down her arm.
Typical. Where were the Slayer's healing powers when she really
needed them? She fumbled and dropped the first aid kit on the
floor for the second time. She sighed deeply.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Spike snarled and picked it up from
the floor and gave it to her again. "Can you hold onto it now?"
Then he crawled up the bed to sit beside her. He looked like a
predator closing up on its prey, the muscles of his arms
rippling enticingly as he came closer. For some strange reason
he didn't seem to realize what he looked like or how much she
enjoyed what she saw.
**You should be grateful for that, Buffy,** she told herself.
"What happened anyway? Your top is soaked with blood," Spike
said, looking at her arm closely as thought noticing it for the
first time, but that was impossible. Spike must have smelled her
blood a long time ago.
"It looks like claw marks," he said calmly.
"Well, something scratched me." Buffy admitted glumly. "I didn't
get a good look at what did it."
"Hm," Spike didn't seem too impressed with that and anger flared
inside Buffy.
"The lights blinked and it went dark. I only felt something very
cold brush past my face and then claws digging into my shoulder.
Deeply."
"How deep?" Spike asked, and sniffed the air.
"Deep enough," Buffy muttered and drew away from him. He looked
like he wanted a taste of her blood.
"Funny," Spike said and tilted his head to the side, watching
her closely. That gaze was like an almost-touch. Buffy shivered
and couldn't even look away. "I should be affected by that
scent." He sniffed again.
"And you're not?" She narrowed her eyes, looking at him, but
there was no bloodlust in his blue eyes. Not even a flicker of
gold. How odd...
"Nope," Spike insisted, and leaned forward, sniffing her like a
damn dog. It excited her, and all she really wanted to do was
lean forward and let him smell her, lick her, taste her...
He smelled nice. Very nice, in fact. Soap, and after shave and
... Buffy shook her head.
"Get away from me! I don't believe you!"
"'Course you wouldn't!" Spike snarled, as though hurt by her
suspiciousness. "I never lied to you."
"I don't care. Get away from me." Buffy insisted and tried to
sit up straighter.
He was sort of looming over her now, and it made her
uncomfortable, and made her want to give into that ... lust
inside her. But the pain in her arm prevented her from moving. A
lazy smile crossed Spike's features as though he finally noticed
what kind of an effect he was having on her.
She wanted to hit him!
"You're helpless as a kitten, pet," Spike said with false
compassion, and took the first-aid kit out of her hand.
"You can't even open that thing."
In a few seconds, Spike had gotten the bandages out, moving
toward her to take care of her arm. She tensed and stared
angrily at him, and he looked at her impatiently.
"Let me help," he said.
Buffy just kept staring at him, flabbergasted.
"Help?" she repeated dumbly. "You? Help? Me?"
"Yeah."
"Spike. You - vampire. Me - Slayer," she reminded him.
"Well, we're in this together, aren't we? I figure the chances
of getting out of here are bigger if you aren't dead," he said
coldly.
"A dislocated shoulder, and a few scratches aren't going to kill
me," Buffy scoffed.
"Maybe not, but this house seems to have a mind of its own, and
from now on, you and I work together."
"Says who?"
"Says I," Spike said and ripped her top.
"Hey!"
"Well you won't bloody well take it off, so I've no choice."
Spike didn't seem to care either way, but brought out the iodine
and some cotton.
"I've no idea what kind of nasty buggers might be in that wound.
There are a hell of a lot of strange creatures around in here. I
can sense them. Dru sensed them. Ghosts, she said."
"Ghosts?" Buffy's skin went cold. "You've got to be kidding."
"No kidding," Spike said seriously. "And there are many breeds
of ghosts, some you shouldn't ever touch. Let's get this wound
clean."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed finally. She didn't want to end up with
some gross, ghostly disease!
Spike took care of the scratches efficiently, and Buffy was
amazed at how careful he was. He didn't hurt her more than
absolutely necessary.
"Okay, all done," he said after a while and Buffy looked at the
clean bandages. They were tight enough, but not too tight. It
felt much better, cleaner, as though the iodine had gotten rid
of something nasty.
Buffy sat quiet for a while and then met his blue eyes.
"Thanks," she whispered. "Now we just have to fix my dislocated
shoulder."
"I can help you with that, too," he said. "But it'll hurt like
a
bitch."
"I know. Just do it."
Buffy straightened in the bed, and Spike came closer, his arms
winding around her to get a good grip on her arm and her
shoulder.
"Brace yourself," he said, but yanked her arm before she even
had time to realize that he was ready to do it.
"Oh, fuck," she groaned.
"I'd love to, pet," he said and leaned over, placing a quick
kiss on her mouth.
Buffy was too shocked to react at first. Then the tingling
spread through her body and she shivered when their gazes met
once again.
**Damn,** she thought, knowing that her desire shone through her
eyes and that he could see it, plain as day. **He knows.**