All characters belong to Joss Whedon, The WB Network, and 20th Century Fox. I am just a fan.

The woman followed the group of men towards the wet and battered couple, as Spike stood up to face them.

"It's not what you think," he tried to reason.

The blonde looked up towards the shattered ceiling and then back at the bloodied vampire.

"Oh, no. Of course not. People fall through ceilings everday," she replied, putting her hands on her hips. "Care to explain?"

Spike eyed her carefully. She seemed normal enough, unlike the over-enthusiastic people they usually came across. She almost had a hint of Buffy attitude. For a split second he contemplated the thought of trusting the woman, but quickly erased that idea from his mind. No one could be trusted.

"Do I 'ave to?" he asked.

"No, but I highly recommend it."

Her eyes wandered to the bulky men surrounding her. Spike had exactly three choices. He could tell her the truth, grab Buffy and run, or attempt to put up a fight. Then again if these blokes were human, he didn't fancy having his head implode. Damn chip.

"Alright then. Fair enough. The wife and I got lost, snatched the elevator, elevator got stuck, we climbed out, elevator started to rise, we jumped off, and 'ere we are now."

He expected the cliff note version wouldn't do it, but it was worth a try. The less she knew the better.

She eyed him suspiciously and took a step forward. To his surprise, she held out her hand.

"I'm Callie."

Spike just stood there, his eyes moving from her outstretched hand and back to her face.

"Are you foreign or something? It's called a handshake."

He snapped out of his daze and shook her hand.

"Spike," he said.

She frowned.

"And I thought being named after my step-mother's aunt's best friend was weird. Never met someone named after their dog before. You okay, by the way? You look kind of... pale."

"Spike?"

The familiar voice interrupted his thoughts and he turned around. Buffy was now sitting up, blood oozing from almost every part of her body. He didn't realize how bad she was, no thanks to the sudden distraction. He knelt down beside her.

"Buffy, love, are you alright?"

She stared blankly at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine... how - what... what happened?" she asked, weakly.

Callie spoke up.

"Want me to call a doctor or something?"

Spike was about to say yes, but Buffy interceded.

"No, I said I'm fine."

She used Spike's shoulders to stand herself up. When she was fully erect, she glanced down at herself and to her horror, she was covered in blood and was soaked from head to toe. Then she rememberd. The whole "going all noble Buffy" had just almost plummeted herself and Spike to their deaths. She glanced over at him, and noticed he was in just as bad of shape as she was. Just now fully realizing they weren't alone, she looked behind Spike and saw a blonde haired woman with three men standing beside her. They looked on curiously.

"Um, who are these people?" Buffy asked.

"I'm Callie. This is my husband, Bryan, and my two brothers Jason and Tyler," she answered, stepping towards the bewildered Slayer. She then looked up at Spike. "Sorry about before, by the way. Didn't mean to freak you out or anything."

"Do you work here?" Buffy questioned.

"Nah, I'm here on my honeymoon. My brothers helped us carry in our luggage. Thought I'd give them a tour. Then we see you two come crashing through the ceiling like some sort of superheroes --"

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance.

"-- and decided to give you a hard time... if you weren't dead, that is."

"Yeah, well, we're not dead, that's for sure," Buffy said.

"Speak for yourself," Spike replied, under his breath. He then looked up, realizing what he just said.

"Dead... tired, I mean. Rough day and all."

There was silence for a moment.

"Well, we better get going," Callie told them. "It's our first day here and we still have lots of scoping to do."

"Be careful," Buffy warned.

Callie frowned a little, but then smiled.

"Will do. You two take care. Bryan and I are in room 205, if you ever wanna visit. Company's always welcome. Well, except for anytime after ten, when we have our special activies planned... but I'm sure you guys know how that is, being married yourselves," she said, winking at them.

Buffy looked a little disgusted, but nodded anyway.

"So, yeah, I'll see you around," Callie told them and began to walk away.

The group disappeared through the double doors and Spike sighed, as relief washed over him. He was about to turn to Buffy, when he suddenly felt her weight start to lean against him. He noticed her eyes flicker closed, and realized she wasn't as "fine" as she said she was. She was losing too much blood.

"Buffy, we have to get you to a doctor or something."

"I'm..." she started to say, but her words trailed off. She then felt herself fall into Spike's arms and everything went black.

* * * * *

Buffy was floating. High above the clouds, far beyond the the world below her. She was back in her happy place, calm and peaceful. A place where there was no evil, no vampires to stake, and no demons to rid the world of. There was only love. And her mother.

Joyce walked up to Buffy and put her arms around her. No words were needed. Only the loving embrace shared between a mother and her daughter. Buffy smiled warmly, feeling better than she ever had. She was in a place where she could just be Buffy, watch over her friends and sister, and be with her mother all at the same time. It was Heaven.

But that's not where she was supposed to be. Buffy could feel herself being drawn away from her mother and back to the very place that caused her pain. That caused her heartache and despair. That caused her death. She didn't want to go back. She was content and happy right where she was. Buffy held on to her mother for dear life, never wanting to let go. She held tighter and tighter, closing her eyes. She prayed she'd be exactlly where she was now when she opened them...

* * * * *

Spike didn't think he could peel the Slayer from off of him, if his unlife depended on it. She was holding on to him so tight, that if he had breath, it would surely be gone. He carried the bleeding Buffy up to their room and cautiously opened the door, checking to make sure the coast was clear. No one had been at the desk when he'd passed by, so no one other than Callie and complany had witnessed the little flying display by the pool. He sighed, as he and Buffy entered the room. He wasn't quite sure what do with her though. Her wounds definitely needed taking care of, but that would mean undressing her. And he was pretty sure that if she ever found out he'd seen her naked, she'd drive a stake through his heart faster than vampire away from the sun.

So he decided to lay her down and take it from there. If the bleeding got any worse, he wouldn't care what the consequences would be. Her life was more important that his anyway. But for now, maybe all she needed was some rest. The blood flow had subsided somewhat, and her slayer-related healing powers had already began to work their magic. He took a few steps towards the bed and gently laid her down.

"No..." she whispered. "Please don't let me go."

Her grip around his neck tightened, as she pulled him down on top of her. Not knowing what to do, Spike just lay there for a moment. She couldn't be that upset with him if she woke up to find him laying in bed with her. His mind referred back his list of "Things Buffy Would Stake You For":

1) Trying to shag her.

2) Trying to kill her.

3) Laying on top of her while she's unconscious...

Yep, there it was. Big number three.

"Alright, off we go," he said to her, as he tried to roll over and off of the bed. He managed to roll onto his back, but unfortunately, or fortunately - he couldn't really decide at that moment, Buffy maintained her hold and rolled over with him, so she was sprawled out across his chest. That's it... he gave up. Without further ado, he wrapped his arms around her waist, as her head rested comfortably against his chest. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes.

* * * * *

This is nice, Bufy thought to herself.

She was no longer in her happy place anymore, but somehwere just as wonderful. She wasn't quite sure where that "somewhere" was, but wherever it was, she didn't want to leave.

The throbbing gash on her forehead thought otherwise.

"Ow," she whimpered softly, as pain coursed thoughout her head. She finally opened her eyes and raised her head from off of her pillow... her soft, cozy, muscular pillow.

Wait. Since when did pillows work out?

Now fully alert, Buffy sat up and looked down. To her horror, was straddling Spike.

"Spike! What the hell is this?" she demanded.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at a flustered Slayer. There was dried blood and a horryfied expression plastered on her face. He remembered everything from her holding onto him for dear life, to him falling asleep in her arms. He figured the first thing she would have done was make a mad dash out of the bed, but instead she remained on top of him, now sitting, staring down at him with confusion and anger in her emerald eyes.

"You passed out, pet," he told her, as if that was supposed to explain to her how she got to be in this position.

"And?" she asked.

"And I tried to lay you down, minus the me, but I'm guessin' you fancied bein' in my arms, 'cause you wouldn't let go."

Buffy suddenly looked deep in thought. She remembered that. She remembered not wanting to let go of something. She was dreaming. And Spike was certainly not the something she had wanted to hold onto. She sighed and finally scooted herself from off of Spike's lap, not even caring that she had stayed in that position for more than two seconds. She was too exhausted to care.

Spike expected to see a fist in his face, or something to that effect, but instead she laid down next to him.

"Sorry about that," she said, staring up at the ceiling.

He glanced over at her, surprised.

"You're still not well, are you," he replied.

"No, I'm okay. I just feel sorta... crusty."

She raised her hand to her face and found it covered in dried up blood.

"Are you sure you don't want a doc or anythin'?" Spike asked her.

"Nah, it's nothing that a shower won't cure."

She then proceeded to get out of the bed and make her way towards the bathroom. She turned around for a moment before disappearing behind the door.

"I'm feeling sort of out of it, which I'm guessing was caused from the whole 'falling a long way down and then crashing through a pane of glass' sitch today. Do you mind if I call it a night?"

Spike sat up and looked over at her. She had to be worse than she said she was, because not even an apocolypse could slow this girl down.

"Of course you can. But, Buffy --"

"Thanks," she said and shut the door behind her.

* * * * *

Buffy stood in the shower, letting the warm rays soothe her sensitive skin. She analyzed each area of her body to check for serious wounds. To her surprise, there weren't that many. There was an ugly gash running down the back of her right leg and her head had a large cut across it, but other than that, it was mainly just minor cuts and scratches. Though she could feel a painful gash down the length of her back, it hurt to much to try and stretch her arms back there and tend to it.

When Buffy was finished with her shower, she got out, dried herself off, and then proceeded to bandage up the major wounds. First her leg, which hurt like hell, and then her head, which had almost already healed. She then draped the towel around her, but winced when the rough cloth came in contact with the cut on her back. She grabbed a small mirror and turned her back to the opposite mirror, in order to get a good look at it. Her eyes grew wide when she noticed how bad it was. It began just between her shoulder blades, and ended at the curve of her back. It was red and swollen, with new blood already beginning to seep though. And it stung like a mother. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do about it, since it was sort of out of reach. If only someone else could help her out...

Her mind roamed to the obvious person, being Spike, but quickly banished that idea from her mind. Her back would heal, but she would never get over it if she let Spike practically see her naked. Besides, his twisted mind would probably come to the conclusion that she was throwing herself at him, which would so not be the case.

She sighed and bent over to pick up her towel. Shocks of pain coursed through her body as she did so, almost making her cry out. Damnit! She was usually healed by now. Looks as if she was going to patch herself up on her own.

With a slight groan, she began rummaging through the little drawers for more gauze.

* * * * *

Spike didn't move from his spot on the bed. He waited for Buffy to emerge from the bathroom, so he could get himself cleaned up as well. His clothes were all bloodstained and he could feel a deep gash on his shin bone. He was surpirsed he wasn't more injured though. Buffy had definitely gotten the worse end of the deal.

He then heard the bathroom door creak open and he immediately sat up. Buffy poked her head out.

"Um, Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a huge favor?"

"Anything, pet."

Spike watched as Buffy entered the bedroom, in nothing but a pink towel.

"Can I, uh, ask what type of favor this is?"

She glared at him and held out her hand. In it, was a little tube of Neosporin, a washcloth and some gauze. He grinned at her.

"Huh. Why didn't you tell me you liked it kinky, Slayer?" he asked.

Buffy rolled her eyes and started to turn back around.

"You know what, forget it. Just forget it."

She should have known he'd be immature about this. As she headed back into the bathroom, she felt a cool hand on her bare shoulder. She stopped.

"I'm sorry, love. I was just teasin'."

"Shut up, Spike. Do you how much courage it took for me to come out here in my towel?"

She turned around and Spike sighed.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked, hoping he hadn't blown it.

"Nothing, it was a bad idea, anyway."

Spike took the materials out of her hand and started leading her to the bed.

"Come 'ere," he told her.

It took a minute, but the intense pain in her back, forced her to follow him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to come closer. She slowly walked up to him and stood between his legs.

"Now," he said, softly. "Tell me where it hurts."

Buffy swallowed and turned around, easing the towel down her back. Spike was shocked to see the extent of her injury. He took an unnecessary breath and picked up the washcloth.

"Be gentle," she whispered to him.

"Always," he said, and began to lightly dab the wound with the wet cloth. As he dampened it, he blew on it softly, making Buffy shiver. He smiled to himself.

"So, uh, I never thanked you back there, did I," he told her, setting down the slightly bloody washcloth.

"F - For what?" she asked.

She didn't like being so close to him. She didn't like what it did to her. She prayed he was almost finished.

"Well, you know, not lettin' me go and all."

"Oh, that. Well, you would have fallen either way, so there's nothing to really be thankful for."

"Yeah, but, you should 'ave let me go. You could've gotten yourself killed... again."

"Would that really be so bad?" she asked, calmly.

Suddenly, she felt herself being whipped around. She had to hold onto her towel for dear life.

"How can you say that?" he asked her, his hands on her hips. "Don't ever say that."

Buffy was about to say something sarcastic, until she noticed how serious he was. His eyes conveyed a look of worry and concern. She hadn't seen that look before, even before her death. She looked down at her naked toes, breaking the eye contact, feeling almost embarrassed under his steady gaze. Then she felt herself being turned around again, as Spike continued to work on her back.

"You're welcome," she said.

Spike said nothing, but couldn't suppress a smile. He then began to open the Neosporin. Buffy flinched as the cold gel came in contact with her wounded flesh.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Just a little."

He rubbed the medicine in gently with the washcloth and let it soak in for a minute or two. As he waited, he noticed a million other little cuts surrounding the major one. He lightly ran his fingers across them, as if his touch would automatically make them heal. She must have fallen through the glass on her back, he decided.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat, when she felt his cold hand against her flushed skin. She unconsciously leaned into his touch.

Spike noticed this slight gesture and immediately pulled his hand back. He just stared at her bare back for a moment, wondering why his reaction was what it was. He would think having the Slayer want to get closer to him would be a good thing... then why did he just pull away from her? He shook his head and began fiddling with the gauze.

Buffy frowned and silently scolded herself and her body for it's reaction to his touch. This was Spike. Spike. Dead, icky, vampire. She sighed. After her anger with herself soon subsided she then began to feel subconscious. Why did he pull away? Was she that repulsive? Buffy shook the disconcerning thoughts from her mind and shifted uncomfortably on both feet. How long did it take to bandage up a damn cut?

As that thought passed her mind, she felt Spike begin to tape the gauze onto her back. As soon as he was finished, she pulled up her towel, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She didn't even look back or say thank you as she scurried back into the bathroom.

Spike watched her disappear, a little irritated by her swift exit.

"You're welcome," he grumbled, and proceeded to make up his bed on the floor.

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