Forfeit: Part 4
by Samantha McCullah
see part one for disclaimer
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Part Four
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"Mom?" Buffy asked weakly.
"I'm here, honey," Joyce replied softly, stroking her daughter's head.
"Is Spike?" she asked.
"Honey, I don't think--"
"Mom," Buffy interrupted. "Please?"
"He's in the waiting room," Joyce sighed. "Buffy, have you considered the consequences of being with this man?"
"Vampire, Mom, Spike's a vamp."
"I know, honey," she smiled.
"And, yes, I have considered the consequences. But I don't care. I lo--" Buffy broke off.
"You love him?" her mom whispered. She nodded slightly. "Buffy, honey, you're seventeen, you can't possibly know what love is."
"Don't give me that, Mom," Buffy replied, wincing as she shifted her body. "I know what I feel." Her mom sighed, knowing she couldn't reason with her.
"I could forbid you to see him," Joyce commented.
"I'd find a way."
"I know." Joyce sighed. < I seem to be doing that a lot lately. > "Everyone is here. Do you want to see them? I can talk to the doctor." Buffy nodded her head, and Joyce got up to go get them.
"Mom?" She turned to face the hospital bed. "Can you send Spike in first?" Joyce smiled slightly before nodding in return.
Joyce exited the room and went in search of Buffy's doctor.
* * *
She finally found the doctor and after a few minutes of bargaining, Joyce managed to get permission for Buffy's friends to visit if only for a short time. When she neared the waiting room door, she stopped outside just in time to here Spike commented, "For this, Angel's gonna die." Then she entered the room to find Spike on his feet pacing in front of the window in full vampire mode.
"Spike?" she asked. The vampire looked up at her, his face returning to its normal human one. "She wants to see you."
As he headed for the door, Xander spoke up, "I don't think he needs to be with her alone." Spike just watched Joyce for a reaction.
"Buffy trusts him, and that's good enough for me." Spike began to pass her but was stopped when her hand clamped down on his forearm. "But if you hurt my little girl, the next ax I hit you with will *not* be aimed at your head." Spike nodded then continued out the door.
* * *
Buffy rested her eyes as she waited for Spike to show up and was quickly lost in her own thoughts. Then she stiffened slightly as her Slayer sense went off, but she relaxed as she recognized the feeling.
"Come in," she invited, opening her eyes to see Spike cross the threshold. "Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," he whispered back. Worry clouded his eyes as he looked at her. "Are you all right?"
"Well, I won't be running any marathons for a while," she joked. "But other than that, yeah, I'm fine. My head wound is almost gone. Slayer healing powers, gotta love 'em."
"He shot you in the head," he muttered, sitting in one of the chairs by the bed.
"Lucky for me, Angel hasn't used a gun in a hundred years. He was a bad shot. His last shot was only a flesh wound, barely grazed the back of my head. But I did lose a lot of blood."
"Head wounds are the worst bleeders," Spike offered. At Buffy's questioning eyes, he muttered, "I've cause a few in my time."
"Spike, thank you. If you hadn't come along, I'd be dead. Hell, I was dead."
"Don't thank me, Slayer. If I'd gone with you--"
"If you'd gone with me, we'd both be dead. And besides, you brought me back." Spike looked up at her, shocked she remembered his pleading. "At the risk of having a cliched near death experience, I saw everything from outside my body." Spike looked embarrassed to know she'd heard his words. "I went back because you needed me. I couldn't go on, knowing that you--" Her words were interrupted when Spike pressed his lips to hers.
"Gently," she hissed.
"Slayer--" he began.
"Say my name. Please."
"Buffy," he breathed her name. "I can't stand to see you like this."
"Are you going to leave?"
"What? Why?"
"Are you going to leave me? Are you going to leave know that I'm not strong anymore?"
"Love, I stayed with Dru for as long as she was sick, and I'm not like her. I'm not going to go away because you're weak."
"Good, because if you did, I'd have to kick your ass." Spike chuckled at her words. "Spike--" she began.
"Say my name," he turned her words back at her. She beamed up at him. He caught his breath.
"William. I like that. William," she rolled his name off her tongue.
"Call me Willy and I'll kick *your* ass."
"William, I heard the doctors." Humor drained from both their faces.
"Slayer, don't--"
"They said I may never walk again."
"I know," he sighed.
"Spike, I'm scared." She reached for him; he stood and sat next to her on the bed. He waited for her to continue. "Hold me?" He gathered her up in his arms and rocked her gently.
"I'll make it right," he muttered, stroking her hair and trying not to let the tears overwhelm him. Then his voice got cold as he continued, "Angel will pay dearly."
The End
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