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Spike awoke with a jolt as the voice of his rescuer, his golden angel of mercy, cut through the muddled, dark nightmare that had just started to invade his sleep. A momentary panic seized him, as for a few brief moments, he was unable to distinguish between the dark terror of his dream, and the constant darkness that was his reality.

The only difference was – the voice.

The voice that had haunted his nightmares – and until tonight, his reality as well – was low, menacing, full of hatred and cruel intent.

The voice that woke him from the nightmare was soft, clear, and full of a sweet compassion, though he could not understand the words she spoke to him.

“Shhh, it’s all right…let’s get up…we’re gonna go to bed, okay?”

The only part his mind caught onto was “get up”; those two words he recognized easily, having received that command countless times during his time as a prisoner – usually after having been knocked to the ground by his captor to begin with.

Quickly he tried to sit up, anxious to obey her immediately, to do whatever she wanted him to do – to please her – but the thick layer of bandages that covered most of his body made it awkward and more than a little difficult to do so. He struggled to rise, but found himself falling back down onto the couch; so he tried again, beginning to feel that familiar sense of panic creeping up on him again.

He had already taken far too much time to obey.

Any second now…

“Hey – hey…it’s okay…settle down…”

Her voice was soft, calming, as she put her arm behind his shoulders and gently helped him to sit up. He sat there for a moment, unnecessary breaths coming hard and fast as he struggled against the deeply ingrained fears that threatened to consume him.

“Let me help you, Spike – it’s all right…”

He had no idea what she had said, but her voice was so kind, so sympathetic, that he found fresh tears springing to his eyes. He blinked them back desperately, as she placed a firm but soft hand beneath his elbow behind his back, and stood up, carefully bringing him up with her.

His captor had never helped him – not once.

It did not matter how badly he was hurt, how weakened he was from hunger and abuse – if he was told to get up, there was no option but to *get up*…and as quickly as possible. If he found, as he often did, that he simply could not do it, he would get nothing but another beating, more punishment – which only made it more difficult for him to obey when the command was put to him again.

This careful attention, this concern for his comfort – well, it was completely new to Spike, and he was not quite sure how to respond to it…beyond the grateful tears that spilled down his cheeks, as he instinctively bowed his head to her shoulder beside him, choking back a sob.

*Whatever she wants,* he vowed in his mind. *Whatever she tells me to do – anything to please her…anything…*

**********************************

The ache in Buffy’s heart mirrored Spike’s, as the helpless, devastated vampire rested his head on her shoulder, softly weeping. She had no idea what exactly had brought on this most recent emotional release – though she knew that he certainly had enough to cry about for months, if he felt like it – and she found herself wondering with alarm if he was in that much pain…if it was the sudden movement that had brought on his tears.

“Spike? Are you hurting, Sweetie?” she asked in a tearful whisper, resting her hand against his cheek as she turned her head toward him. “What can I – I mean…” Her voice trailed off, as she remembered again that there was no way for him to understand what she was trying to ask him – or to answer her, if he did.

“Come on,” Anya urged her with a rare gentleness in her voice, as she put her arm around Spike on the other side, taking some of his slight weight from Buffy’s shoulders. “Let’s get him upstairs.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get Spike up the stairs and into Buffy’s bedroom, where Buffy turned to face the sobbing vampire, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close to her, attempting to soothe him, as Anya cleared the display pillows from the bed and pulled the blankets back.

When the bed was ready, Buffy gently maneuvered Spike backward, guiding him to sit down, and then to lie back, on the bed.

The only problem was – he still had not let go of her.

“Spike – Sweetie – let go,” she whispered, her voice hushed and husky with emotion, as she tried to disentangle herself and stand up straight.

The vampire on the bed would have none of it.

She saw him begin to shake with fear as she tried to pull away, as a soft, pleading whimper began from his lips once more. Spike’s weakened grip was still surprisingly strong as his hands fisted in her shirt behind her – and inadvertently, in her long blonde hair as well.

“Ow!” she cried out before she could stop herself. “Spike, don’t! Let go!”

Instantly, Spike released her completely, shying away from her unintentionally sharp tone, his head turned away from her as his heart-breakingly fragile body visibly closed in on itself in his desperate desire to escape.

“Oh, I’m sorry – so sorry, Sweetie,” she whispered immediately, her eyes wide and stricken with shame and regret at her accidental thoughtlessness. “Hey – it’s all right, Spike, I’m not mad…it’s okay…”

“I’ll just – leave this one to you,” Anya remarked softly from beside the bed, causing Buffy to look up at her in surprise. “I think you can take it from here. I’ll let myself out, and lock the door.”

The sad, knowing little smile on her face told Buffy that Anya knew she had been right in her assessment of what the best sleeping arrangements would be – and the Slayer immediately knew the best way to calm the frightened vampire.

Quickly, she removed her shoes, but left the rest of her clothing on for the time being. She ruefully remembered that she had desperately wanted a shower, after the fight with the mysterious goo demons in the cemetery, and taking care of Spike. She just knew she was covered in slime, blood, and sweat.

*Oh well,* she thought with weary resignation. *I’m gonna need to change those sheets in the morning anyway.*

Slowly, careful not to jostle his countless injuries, Buffy climbed into the bed beside Spike, pulling the covers over them both and settling in beside the trembling, apprehensive vampire.

“Shhh,” she whispered again, soothing him with her voice and her touch, as she raised a hand in a feather light, calming caress across his brow.

He flinched at first, clearly expecting a blow – but she did nothing more than to repeat the gesture, again and again, whispering to him as she gently petted him, trying to make him understand that no matter what happened, she was not going to hurt him.

After a minute or two, he began to calm down – but after accidentally hurting her, he made no attempt to draw closer to her, as he had before. He just lay there, his head turned back toward her the only physical sign of his desire for closeness with her, his body taut with anxiety and uncertainty.

Buffy knew that though he could not bring himself to close the gap between them – he desperately needed for it to be closed. Carefully, doing her best not to startle him, she slid across the mattress nearer to him, laying her arm gently across his chest and tugging him gently toward her.

Gratefully, Spike immediately nestled in closer to her, resting his head on her shoulder again, as the last of his quiet tears faded away into soft snuffling sounds – but he did not dare to touch her with his hands.

Buffy wanted him to know that it was okay – she was not angry with him for the slight, accidental pain he had caused her -- but she was afraid any attempt to make him understand that might just confuse him, and she did not want to push him any further – not tonight.

She had all the time in the world to help him understand how much she cared for him.

She just lay there with him, cradling him close to her with her arms around him, soothing him with her presence until he fell asleep again, safe at last in the protective embrace of the one who should have been his enemy.

***********************************

It took Buffy a few hazy moments to figure out why her arm was asleep, when she woke up in the late hours of the next morning. She finally managed to open her sleep-weighted eyes, and glance around her shadowed room, only barely lit by the few refracted rays of light that filtered through the drawn curtains.

Her eyes widened in momentary surprise, as she looked to her side and saw the reason for the tingling pins and needles in her right arm – the dead weight of the sleeping vampire whose head was resting on her shoulder…and cutting off the circulation to the rest of her arm. Her left arm was still resting lightly across his torso, holding him close to her as he slept.

She simply stared at him for a long time, wondering at the peaceful beauty of him, at rest – not shaking and cringing and wracked with the confusion and pain of the night before. It was a relief to see him actually getting some rest, not afraid and uncertain as to what was going to happen next in his unlife that had been wrested from his control and thrust into the hands of others…even if this time, the “others” wanted to help and protect him, rather than to abuse him.

What she had no way of knowing was that this was the first night since he had regained the ability to dream that had not been filled with nightmares to rival the torment of his waking hours.

She took her time, now, to study the face that she had thought was lost to her, for all those months, in the dim, hazy light that shrouded her room. She frowned as she took in the cruel changes, as her arm across him rose to tenderly trace along the full, flawless lips, now cracked and bruised by someone’s fist – that angelic face over flawless cheekbones, beaten and bloodied by abuse…

*I’ll kill them, Spike,* she promised silently, as she removed her hand and laid her arm around him again protectively. *I’ll find the people who did this to you – and I’ll make them pay for it. I won’t let them get away with this. I promise.*

She looked down, frowning to see that some of the bandages from the night before were stained through with blood. He had needed the blood they had given him desperately – and would need plenty more – but getting so much blood in him after going so long without had resulted in starting some of the wounds flowing much more than they had been before.

*He’ll need a shower…it was too much for him last night…but he’ll need to be thoroughly cleaned up…who knows…it might help him…*

Her thoughts cut off abruptly, her breath stolen away in an instant, as his thick, dark lashes fluttered twice…before his eyelids opened wide, revealing two deep pools of crystal blue that stunned her, and smote her heart with an exquisite pain at the sheer beauty of that familiar gaze.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice raspy with sleep – but she made herself speak, now that she knew he was awake, wanting to do her best to ground him, to remind him where he was before he had the chance to panic. “Good morning, Spike…how you doing, Sweetie?”

She did not expect a response, just wanted to calm him with her voice.

His clear blue eyes blinked once, wide open and staring, and her heart ached with loss.

*Oh, Spike, I wish you could see me,* she thought desperately, forcing her own tears back as she reached a gentle hand toward his face to offer a reassuring caress.

And Spike flinched slightly, his eyes darting toward the movement of her hand with instinctive fear.

Buffy froze, her eyes widening in wondering disbelief.

*But – it’s only been one night…*

Was it possible?

“It’s all right,” she reassured him in a whisper, moving her hand slowly forward again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Spike…not gonna hurt you…”

Once again, his sapphire gaze followed the movement warily, but he did not pull away from her as she laid her hand on his cheek in a soothing caress. His eyes fluttered wonderingly back to her face, a slight frown creasing his brow as he focused on her lips intently for a long moment.

Despite his clear anxiety and confusion over this new development, Buffy could not help the rush of warmth and hope that flooded her at the implications of a few simple eye movements. They did not only show a tremendous progress in and of themselves, but they gave her hope that with enough nourishment and care, Spike might eventually regain so much more of what he had lost.

Buffy felt a flood of joy flow through her when she saw his eyes widen slightly, trailing uncertainly back and forth between her mouth and her eyes – and a light of excited understanding shone forth in his gaze, as he made the connection between the sounds reaching his ears, and the concurrent movements of her lips.

Buffy laughed quietly, tears of relief flooding her eyes at the same time.

“You can see me!” she exulted softly, running the backs of her fingers down his cheek affectionately. “Oh, Spike, you can see! You’re gonna be all right, Spike! I know it – I’m gonna make sure, Spike, I’m gonna take care of you, and help you – and you’re gonna be all right!”