Disclaimer: All the vampires are Joss Whedon’s. And the slayers. And all the Scoobies. Sigh.
 
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Several days passed in a similar vein. He spent the days hunting for the amulet or finding food, wood, and water to keep Buffy going. In between expeditions he held her, talked to her, tried to clean some of the grime off of her. He ventured a little farther every day. He hated to leave her – he was so afraid something would attack her. But they were stuck there until he either found that amulet or the Scoobies somehow decided to find them.
 
He found his energy decreasing day by day. He desperately needed blood. He fought hard to keep his demon under control. Down boy. Slayers are not for eating this trip. He was still able to function, but he really needed the down time between trips. He idly wondered how long this could continue. But this afternoon, as before, he reluctantly left Buffy’s side and ventured out to search.
 
He had ranged far enough that he was approaching the place where he had first entered the stream. He treaded quietly here, realizing that he was getting dangerously close to the fortress. He was searching the ground as usual when he heard a sound off to his right. Crouching behind a thick, thorny bush, he saw a demon guard, alone, wandering through the wood. The creature was coming closer to Spike’s hiding place. Right in front of the bush, the guard stopped, scanning the ground. Shit. My footprints. Spike realized that he had not been so careful this time, and had left clear footprints all over the place in his search for the amulet. Another side effect of the starvation diet – he was getting careless. Fuck. Now what?
 
Looking around, Spike spied a large branch on the ground nearby. He reached out silently and grabbed it with both hands. Then, jumping out from behind the bush, he swung the branch with all his might, clubbing the demon across the skull.
 
The demon staggered and roared, then turned on Spike. Spike cracked him on the head again, but the demon managed to get in a punch that broke several of Spike’s ribs. He vamped out from the pain, swinging the branch again and again as the demon kept flailing at him. Spike’s luck turned when the guard tripped and fell backward over a tree root. Spike landed on him, pinned his arms, and grabbed his throat. Squeezing with all of his strength, he tore the creature’s throat out, watching with satisfaction as the body twitched a few times, then lay still.
 
Spike was panting with the exertion. His broken ribs were grinding together, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. He thought his collarbone might be fractured as well. He made his way painfully to his feet. He realized right away that he was going to have to do something with the body. If another patrol found it, they might start investigating farther afield, and he really didn’t need that. He considered draining the demon first. But upon tasting the demon’s blood, he thought better of it. Won’t help me if I just puke it all up afterwards. These things are foul beyond words.
 
He noticed one particularly dense thicket with a bit of a hollow in the center. It would have to do. The demon proved to be massively heavy – Spike winced and cursed steadily under his breath as he slowly dragged the carcass toward the concealing bushes. He tore his arms up again on the thorns, and at one point spit out blood. Lovely. Just what I need, some internal bleeding. Finally, after a long effort, the body was concealed in the center of the brambles. Spike surveyed the scene. He grabbed a branch and rubbed out as many of the footprints as he could. Then he marshaled his strength to stagger back to the cave.
 
By the time he got back to their temporary home, Spike was nearly spent. He ducked to enter the cave, and ended up collapsing on the ground right inside the door. Buffy was staring at him, rocking, but made no movement, no sound. After a few minutes he crawled over to the fire, lying down next to it and closing his eyes.
 
He woke up and found the fire was nearly out. His broken bones protested as he somehow managed to sit up and put a few more sticks on the embers. He was grateful that he had laid in a good supply earlier. He leaned against the wall when he was finished and rested again. This was no good. No good at all. He could barely crawl around the cave. How could he get food for Buffy? Find the amulet? Defend either of them if they were found?
 
His demon was screaming in his head, and he struggled not to vamp out in pain. He was injured and starving, and having a slayer two feet away looking at him did not help at all. He looked at Buffy for a long time. I could just take a small drink. Not enough to hurt her. With slayer blood, a little bit is enough. He clenched his fists in frustration. He didn’t want to traumatize her any further. He didn’t even know if he could drink from her – the chip would probably prevent it. But if he didn’t heal, what good would he be? Damned either way.
 
Finally, he made up his mind. The chances of them ever getting out of this hell were nil unless he could move around. He needed blood to heal. He was going to have to drink from Buffy.
 
Gathering his strength, he moved over next to her. Injured as he was, he still had almost no trouble picking her up and cradling her in his lap. She was still so thin; she weighed almost nothing, even with the pregnancy. He held her like a child, crooning to her and stroking her hair, moving it away from her neck. Finally, he whispered, “Forgive me love.” Then he vamped out, and gently sank his fangs into her.
 
He took three long draughts of Buffy’s rich blood, quietly thankful that for whatever reason his chip didn’t fire. As he was licking the wounds closed, Buffy suddenly started to struggle. He cried out in pain as her strong slayer arms shoved him back, grinding his ribs. She scrambled crablike out of his grasp, backing up until she hit the cave wall. Her eyes were wide, but this time they were aware.
 
“What the fuck are you doing?” she barked. Her voice was scratchy, like she hadn’t spoken in months. “You bit me!” She saw the pile of firewood next to her and grabbed for a makeshift stake. She quickly found the sharpest piece of wood she could find and tried to stand up. Her injured leg wouldn’t hold her weight, however, and her pregnant body was so unwieldy that she soon found herself sliding back down the wall.
 
Spike likewise scrambled backward, still vamped, and grimacing. “Buffy! Hang on! It’s me, ok? It’s Spike.” He really did not feel up to facing a slayer at the moment. He was more than a little grateful that she couldn’t walk properly, as that was probably the only reason he was not currently a pile of dust.
 
“I know who you are!” snapped Buffy. “Which is why I am wondering why the hell someone who is always telling me how much he cares about me is chewing on my neck!”
 
“Do you realize where the hell you are, you stupid bint?” Spike snapped back. With an effort he returned to his human face and glared at her.
 
Buffy froze for a second. Her eyes widened as she took in the cave walls. She dropped the stake and looked down at herself – bruised, pregnant, and wearing Spike’s shirt and duster, but nothing else. She blushed and wrapped the duster tighter around herself. “What’s going on?” she asked in a bewildered voice.
 
Spike sat up further and inched over to lean against the wall, still keeping a distance between himself and the slayer. “You were kidnapped by Y’sogoth demons, remember?” he began, watching her carefully. “I came to get you back. I found you… in your current condition. I got you out of the fortress, brought you here to keep you safe. I’ve been trying to keep you going, and find our way back home.”
 
“So, why the biting then, if you say you’re trying to keep me safe?” Buffy seemed to be struggling to keep herself under control.
 
Spike sighed. “I haven’t eaten in about five or six days, pet. I got in a scuffle with one of those demons, broke a few ribs, had some internal damage. I was afraid if I didn’t heal I couldn’t protect you. You were out of it, so I couldn’t get your permission first. I’m sorry, Buffy.” He looked directly into her eyes as he finished his sentence. Her eyes still seemed too large and wild for her face, but at least they were focused and comprehending. Provided she didn’t stake him, things were improving somewhat.
 
“So, this is real then?” she asked quietly. She was unconsciously curling her knees up toward her chest again.
 
“’Fraid so, pet,” Spike answered carefully. “I had an amulet that can get us back home. It got lost in the woods as I was running from the demons with you. I’ve been trying to find it for nearly a week now. As soon as I do, we’ll be able to get back to Sunnydale.”
 
Buffy’s lip quivered as tears started to run down her cheeks. “Oh God,” she sobbed. “I hoped it was all a nightmare, a hallucination, something.” She wept into her knees, rocking back and forth.
 
Spike eyed her for a moment, then made his decision. He carefully got up, noting that his collarbone was already feeling minutely better after the infusion of slayer blood. He slowly moved over and sat down next to Buffy. He hesitated for a minute, fearing her reaction, but then he put his arm around her shoulder. She looked at him with a tear stained face for a moment, then buried her head in his chest. They sat there for a long time, her crying, him just holding her.
 
After a while, her tears and sobbing tapered off and she sat up. “Thanks,” she whispered. She used the corner of the shirt she wore to wipe her eyes.
 
“Don’t mention it, pet,” he said, rubbing her back gently. “You thirsty?”
 
Buffy nodded, sniffling. Spike retrieved the flask, which was still half full, and passed it to her. “Just water, I’m afraid,” he added.
 
Buffy drank it down. “Probably better that way. You know how I react to alcohol.” She smiled sadly, then added, “I’m sorry I almost staked you.”
 
“Suppose I understand that sentiment,” said Spike. “You’re the Slayer. You snap out of whatever state you were in to find a vampire at your neck, your instinct is to stake first, ask questions later.”
 
“I think your bite is what snapped me out of it,” said Buffy. “I was just… not here for a long time. When I felt your fangs, it just sort of jump started my system somehow.”
 
“Did I hurt you?” Spike asked, concerned.
 
Buffy shook her head, “No. It actually felt good, in a way.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “Does it always feel like that?”
 
Spike shook his head, “Only if the vamp in question is being careful.”
 
Buffy realized something. “Didn’t your chip fire?”
 
Knowing he was probably signing his own death warrant, he took an unneeded breath and said, “No, Buffy. It didn’t fire. Not sure if it’s because rules are different in this world, or something is wrong with it or what. Maybe it didn’t fire because I truly didn’t want to hurt you. Can’t say.” Buffy thought about this new information. He can bite me! But even though he was injured and starving, he didn’t drain me. Why? She couldn’t understand it, but added this fact to the list of things to consider later.
 
Spike stood up to throw some wood on the fire. Buffy noticed how slowly he was moving, favoring his side. “You’re hurt pretty bad,” she observed.
 
“It’s mending,” replied Spike. “It will probably mend itself during the night if I can get to sleep. Collarbone is already a lot better, and I think the internal bleeding stopped. Slayer blood is potent stuff.”
 
“Not sure if I should be glad that I’m yummy or not,” said Buffy. She rubbed her hand thoughtfully over her protruding belly. “Not sure what I’m going to do about this either.”
 
Spike stopped puttering about the fire and came back over to her side. Kneeling down, he took her hands in his – just as he had done when she returned from the grave. He winced slightly at her missing finger, but stroked her knuckles with his thumbs and looked her in the eyes. “Listen to me, Buffy. I’m going to get you back home. Until I do, I am going to keep you safe. When we get home, we will find a way to get this thing out of you, understand?” Buffy looked deeply into his clear blue eyes. He meant every word that he said. She knew that if anyone could keep such an impossible promise, it would be him.
 
“Thank you, Spike,” she whispered again for the second time in ten minutes. They held each others’ gaze for a few minutes longer. Then Spike shook himself, let go of her hands, and found a spot to lie down. “I need to rest for a while, pet,” he explained.
 
Buffy was also tired, from the blood loss and the shock. “Spike?” she asked, shyly. “Can I… can you hold me? While I sleep?” She was shaken, and desperate for some human contact, or at least a close approximation.
 
Spike beckoned her over with a gentle smile. She lay with her back to him and he nestled up behind her, wrapping his arm protectively over her enormous belly. Thus entwined, they fell asleep.
 
TBC