Buffy opened her eyes slowly and frowned at the cream-coloured blur before her. The last thing she could remember before passing out was fighting some ugly, grey monster in the cemetery. Her eyes widened fearfully at the memory - burning! She'd been burning!

Trying to sit up so she could check the extent of her injuries, a new panic engulfed her - she couldn't move! The fear and panic grew as she realized that she couldn't even turn her head, her vision was strictly limited to whatever was in her line of unaided vision.

Briefly closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she desperately tried calming herself. Spike had been there with her - she was still alive - where would Spike have taken her if she'd been seriously injured? Giles' home probably. Opening her eyes once again, she took another look around. She still couldn't see much of anything but the ceiling, she frowned again then; ceiling - that meant she was lying down.

Concentrating as hard as she could she tried focussing on what she was lying on, but could feel absolutely nothing. A bed? Perhaps. Not the couch, or she should be able to see the cushions of the back of the couch to her left or right, which she couldn't...

A head popped into view directly above her then, startling her out of her thoughts.

"Well, well, well, Sleeping Slimy awakens." Spike chuckled, staring down at her with amusement. From his position, he had to practically be right on top of her... but she could still physically feel nothing.

Opening her mouth to demand that he get off, she wheezed slightly, only then noticing how dry her mouth was. She tried swallowing, only to discover that there wasn't even saliva enough in her mouth to accomplish that small task.

Spike's face disappeared suddenly, and she could hear what had to be the mattress of the bed shifting. Then he reappeared, this time at her side and her vision suddenly began changing, a view other than the ceiling before her now. Giles room - she was lying in the bed in Giles room. Okay, that was one mystery solved.

"Okay Slayer, I'm gonna pour some water in your mouth now," Spike told her, holding a cup up in front of her face with one hand, the other no doubt holding her in the sitting position, then lowering it to her lips. Her vision changed again slightly, and she realized that he had tilted her head back slightly. She swallowed eagerly, relieved that at least she could feel the water in her mouth, and the path it took down to her stomach.

So, it was only her external senses that had been affected. The cup left her mouth, and she found herself looking straight ahead again. "Oops," Spike smirked at her, leaning closer towards her from the side of the bed, "Spilt some. Guess I'll have to lick it clean." She watched with a combination of horror and arousal as he bent his head towards her chest, frustrated that she could see only the back of his head under her chin but feel nothing. His head popped back up then and he grinned unrepentantly, "Just funnin', Slayer."

"Spike, you are so dead when I figure out how to move again." she croaked, her throat feeling much better now.

"Thought I was already dead." Spike continued grinning. She rolled her eyes at him, ready to clarify the statement when he continued, his voice taking on a much more seductive tone. "Your little friends have already discovered that the effects of the bile won't wear off for a day or two at least," a slow sensuous smile spread across his face, full of mysterious promise, "-which leaves you completely at my mercy until then." he whispered, his mouth undoubtedly only a hairs width from her ear judging by the proximity of his voice.

If she could have, she would have shuddered at his words, whether in anticipation or fright, she wasn't quite sure, although, given the lack of feeling she had with her body at the moment, she very well could have shuddered... "So, what's wrong with me?" she asked curiously, eager to change the subject, her mind suddenly muddied by the insinuations of his seductive statement.

"Well," Spike paused, leaning back again as his face took on a thoughtful look, his voice normal once again, "-you're a little on the short side, you can be one bossy little twit, you've got terrible taste in men..."

"The *bile*, you moron." Buffy interrupted, her anger and annoyance rising as he continued listing each criticism, "What did the bile do to me?"

Smirking at her, he set her back down so that she was lying once again, then stretched out along side her, staying within her line of sight by propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at her. "Oh, that." he waved away frivolously, "You'll just be paralyzed for a bit, nothing to worry about - sadly, it's only a temporary side-effect." He lowered himself down onto his back then, and exhaled tiredly, "Willow and Giles are still analyzing the stuff, but they don't think there's anything to worry about." he finished off, falling silent.

Straining to keep her eye on him, she realized after a few minutes that he wasn't planing on leaving anytime soon. "Spike, what are you still doing here?" she finally asked, not liking the how helpless she felt without the ability to move.

"Sleeping. Now shush." he replied without moving.

"Here?" Buffy complained, "Now?" There was no way she was going to be getting any rest knowing that there was a soulless, albeit neutered, vampire lying beside her completely helpless form.

"Luv, your friends are downstairs babbling away and trying to figure out a way to speed your healing process, and I am *not* sleeping in the water-closet." She could practically hear him grinning then, "If you're that upset about it, feel free to throw me out."

"I hate you." she muttered. Closing her eyes and trying to ignore the fact that he was there. Funny how despite not being able to physically feel him next to her, every other sense refused to allow her even *pretend* he wasn't.

"Hate you too Slayer." Spike replied softly, before falling silent once again.

Groaning to herself, silently willing her mind to shut down, the ache of her 'Slayer-sense' to go away, and her body to heal itself, she reluctantly opened her eyes again. "Spike?" she called out softly, a large part of her hoping he didn't respond.

"Mmm?" he grunted unintelligibly.

She swallowed as she forced her next words out, "Thanks for... saving me." It had to be the bile affecting her brain, that made her want to bring herself to actually thanking the vampire beside her, but she did nonetheless.

For a long moment there was silence, and she wondered if perhaps he hadn't fallen asleep on her, then, "I owed you for the other night," a voice devoid of sleepiness replied, "We're even now." Somehow, the words seemed to hang heavily in the air, as though there were a significantly deeper meaning to them. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn is head and look at her, and a moment later his hand reached out and turned her face to look at him. His face was devoid of expression, as he held her gaze.

"Buffy," he started, a flash of doubt passing through his eyes. He paused, as if considering if he should follow through on whatever he had been about to say. "If you could pick your death, how would you want to die?"

The question threw her off guard somewhat, and she searched his face for any hint of emotion. Was he joking around with her again, or being serious? "Old age?" she answered almost automatically, watching his reaction carefully.

The corner of his lip curled up slightly, as he let out a soft chuckle. "Second choice?" he asked, a twinge of amusement lacing his voice. "If - *when* - I do it, how would you want me to kill you?"

A sharp pang of pain went through her as she realized that if he ever got that chip out, he still planned to come after her. "I'll answer your *hypothetical* question, if you tell me how you want *me* to kill *you* when you try." she offered, slightly surprised at the evenness in her voice.

He paused, then shrugged. "Fair enough."

Taking a moment to think it over, she looked him in the eye and answered, "I wouldn't want you to drain me." she started off, knowing the ambrosial strength of Slayer blood to vampires. "You promised to make it quick once, but I'd want you to look me in the eye when you did it." she decided. "I want to know its coming."

He raised an eyebrow, "So you can congratulate me for my third Slayer kill?" he asked, lightening the mood somewhat.

Could this all simply be another one of his little mind games? "So I can bore you to tears with the 'When one falls, another is called' speech Giles has hammered into my skull over the years." she corrected dryly. "Your turn."

Grinning mischievously, he licked his lips, "I'd want to go with your stake through my heart after you offer me your blood and proceed to give me a blow job to end all blow jobs." he revealed with a smirk.

"Pig." Buffy accused, wishing for mobility back now more than ever, so she could throttle him. This had to all be some twisted joke to him - he was just trying to get under her skin again.

"You always knew that, pet." Spike pointed out proudly, that cocky grin still plastered all over his face.

"Why?" she finally demanded, not altogether sure she wanted to hear the answer, but morbidly curious nonetheless.

Shrugging, he looked at her seriously, "You're not the begging type." he stated, repeating his words from their first encounter on Parent-Teacher night over six years ago, then his tone lightened again, his cocky air returning, "If, by some miracle, we fight and *you* win, I'd want to see you on your knees and at my feet just once."

"That's still disgusting," Buffy muttered, "I could easily stake you from my knees at your feet without the... other thing... happening."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Spike smirked. "This is *my* fantasy execution, remember?" He turned her head back so that it was facing the ceiling again, "Besides, I'm still a demon, luv."

"An egotistical, perverted, obnoxious, annoying..." she noticed him smiling happily from the corner of her eye and switched modes, reminding herself who exactly it was the she was trying to insult, "-very kind, extremely nice, lovey-dovey..."

"Watch it, Slayer." his voice cut in dangerously, an annoyed frown marring his face.

"-defanged, flaccid, neutered..."

"Slayer..."

"-soft, fuzzy, friendly..." Growling, the vampire flopped over to his side, his back to her.

Buffy smiled triumphantly, "-caring, warm-hearted..."

Grabbing the pillow and glaring daggers at her, he stalked from the bedroom and out of sight. A few seconds later, the bathroom door slammed shut.

"-evil, dangerous, sociopathic demon." she finished quietly.

Sighing she closed her weary eyes once again, and for the first time in a long time prayed. Prayed that the vampire who she'd grudgingly allowed into her heart, despite what common sense told her, would remain on her side for a while to come. She'd tried for so long now not to fall into the 'Angel'-trap, as she'd dubbed it, but she had anyway. If the implant were to fail, or be removed, and Spike regained his ability to harm the innocent once again, she just didn't think she'd have it in her to stake him. Not after so many years of fighting along side him, learning to see the man he once might have been, learning even to enjoy the wit, the humour and the strength of the demon housed within. In her heart she just knew she wouldn't be able to handle that kind of decision again.

Try as he might, Spike just couldn't seem to wipe the silly grin off his face. No one he'd ever fought against before had ever been so much fun. He was really going to miss the blond Slayer when she finally died. He stiffened. Where in all of Hades had *that* thought come from? He wasn't going to miss her, he was going to dance on her grave and throw a bloody party when she died.

Shuffling, as he continued trying to find a comfortable position in the bathtub he frowned. There was no way that he actually cared for the Slayer. They were sworn enemies, mortal enemies, *blood* enemies. For as long as there had been vampires there had been Slayers, and the two were meant to hate each other - *kill* each other.

Of course, demons weren't exactly meant to feel human emotions such as love or compassion either, it made them weak. It made them all the more susceptible to final death, simply because they'd eventually allow themselves to care about the wrong things. Much as he had done six years ago when he'd proposed that first truce with Buffy.

For love, he had put aside his feelings of hatred towards the young Slayer; for love, he had betrayed his mentor, his partner, his sire - Angelus; for love, he had helped to stop the world from being sent to Hell, only months after trying to rid the world of humanity himself.

Yet, what had all that gotten him in the end? Dru had left him, accusing him of becoming too soft for her tastes, especially after his failed attempt at torturing her back into his arms - of all the twisted ironies, even after he'd had her subdued and chained, he just couldn't bring himself to raising a hand against her. Angelus had tortured the raven-haired vampiress into a state of eternal madness for mere lust, yet he, Spike, William the Bloody, could not bear the thought of really *hurting* her in order to show his love for her.

The fungus demon she'd turned to after that, had been even more disgusting than the chaos demon. She'd only done it to hurt him more too - the message had been clear: any demon was better than having to stay with him.

Embittered, he'd returned to Sunny*hell* to kill the Slayer once and for all, and prove that his truce with her had meant absolutely nothing. Instead, he'd gotten yet another royal butt kicking to add to his growing list - despite the Gem of Amara - and had ultimately wound up getting captured by a bunch of humans who'd stuck some nasty chip in his head that had nearly been the death of him. That would have been a laugh: Spike, childe of Angelus, slayer of Slayers, finished, not at the tip of a stake, by the edge of a sword even, but rather from an inability to feed.

So no, even though he knew he had the capacity to care, the ability to love, he was *not* going let those emotions out to play again. Ever. Especially with the Slayer - or any of her mortal friends.

Sitting up, he rubbed his hands over his face and clambered out of the tub. It was obvious he wasn't going to be getting much sleep right now, maybe he could wander into the next room and see what the nerd-squad had found on the monster that had completely ruined *his* plans to kill Buffy.

Making his way to the table, he found only Willow, and she was asleep, her head pillowed on her arms, various books and papers spread out around her. Spike glanced at the clock. It was almost 10:00 am; Giles and Amy would already be opening the former Magic Shop, which Giles now owned, and Amy worked at.

Until Giles had finally bought the small shop, it had changed hands several times, never bringing in enough profits for the owners to want to keep it. Giles had however improved upon it greatly, expanding it into a small book store as well. Most of the true magic items and ingredients had been moved to the basement, and only the lesser charms and stones and trinkets had been left for sale. With Amy's expanse of knowledge, she could talk just about anyone into buying the items, weaving a beautiful tale of magic and mystery into each one. The store had never done better, and after Amy's return to human form, it had given her something to do with herself.

Although Willow and Tara had finally come up with a way to de-rat their fellow Wiccan, the reversal spell they had found had reverted the young witch into the girl she had been before she'd cast the spell that had turned her into the rat in the first place. So, thought dead by most of the town, two years younger than the other two witches, and not even a graduate of high school, she had been quite lost. Giles had however quickly adopted her as his own, then offered her a job at his newly purchased store. That had been almost three years ago.

"Hmmm, Spike?" Willow mumbled, as she opened her eyes. "How's Buffy doing?"

"Still living, unfortunately." Spike muttered, grabbing a bag of blood from the fridge and tossing it in the microwave.

"Oh, we found out some stuff on that demon that attacked you guys last night." Willow exclaimed happily, blinking the sleep from her eyes and stretching as she ignored his comment. "It was a Tolgaran demon, which we also found out, is an apocalyptic demon. Kind of like the demons you and Buffy came across two nights ago, the uh" she shuffled a few papers in search of the correct notes, "... the Dagnir."

Retrieving his snack, he vamped out and headed for the table, sitting himself down across from Willow as he sunk his fangs into the plastic and drank. He had it drained in seconds and lofted the now empty wad of plastic through the air to the garbage can with ease.

"So, what are these blokes doing here now? The end of the world upon us again?" he asked, slightly curious now, leaning back and slipping his human features back into place. If something apocalyptic were coming, he might have to hold off killing Buffy for yet another little while. Would nothing ever go his way around here?

"Well, we've gone over just about everything we have, and there doesn't seem to be any particular prophesy on the verge of being fulfilled. I mean there are a couple really vague ones, but they don't seem to apply to any situation that would happen around here." The red head shrugged and yawned.

"Xander, Anya, Oz, and Tara are gonna come by later this afternoon to take over though. Maybe they'll find something we missed."

"Joy. There go my plans for a nice quiet afternoon." Spike commented dryly, "Any more bad news I should know about?"

"Um, you might have to patrol on your own tonight if Buffy isn't feeling better." Willow informed him, her eyes slowly falling shut again.

"Rhetorical questions aren't supposed to be answered, Red." Spike grumbled, getting to his feet and walking around to help her up. "Now, off to bed with you." He picked her up effortlessly and carried her up to Giles' room, depositing her on the bed beside the Slayer, who was sleeping once again, a troubled frown marring her face. Shrugging to himself he headed back downstairs and looked over at the table, then over at the empty sofa.

If the brat-pack were on their way later, he might not have another opportunity to enjoy some quiet, undisturbed rest. Heading for the sofa he flopped down onto his back and closed his eyes. He was going to have to wait for the Slayer to recover from her temporary paralysis anyway before making his move against her, so if some apocalyptic disaster was discovered in the meantime, he'd just have to wait a little longer after that.

Hardening himself against the rebellious emotions stirring within him, he decided he could do that. Even if Dru didn't take him back, he had to kill Buffy - he had to do it for himself, he had to know that he still had it in him - that he wasn't a just some soft, pathetic shell of the vampire he'd once been.

Ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind, telling him that the longer he waited, the more vulnerable he was to falling into a trap of his own makings, he rolled over onto his side and drifted off. He was free of the chip, free to kill, and the Slayer *would* be his first, no matter what.

End of Part 3/7

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