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Healing Wounds	By : Sylver Category: Anita Blake > Crossovers > AB/BtVS Views: 5402 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Anita Blake series, nor BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Spike felt an overwhelming panic flood him as he stared down at Willow’s corpse. He had to do something, or rather undo it somehow, but he knew there was no way. Logic told him that when she rose her soul would be gone and the girl he loved would be replaced by a cold-blooded killer. His Willow would be no more, unless…maybe there was some way to restore her soul the way Angel’s had been. No, damn it! It wouldn’t work. That spell existed on their world and even if it could be done here, he wouldn’t even begin to know how.

At least she would be spared the horror of having to wake in a coffin, he thought with a shudder. Running his hand through his platinum blonde curls, pushing them out of his face, his mind raced wishing he knew how much time he had before she rose. With most of his kind it was usually three days before they woke to the night, but with Willow’s magic it could be different. Spike seemed to recall Angelus once mentioning that Dru had risen after only one night. The daft girl refused to come up out of the ground, even after her brooding sire had tried to dig her up, because it was ‘not polite to arrive to a tea party early.’

As Spike heard the sounds of Anita and Ted returning, he scooped Willow up into his arms, and headed for the exit. He needed to buy a little time until he could figure things out.

“What’s going on?” the dark-haired girl asked as she opened the door, only to have Spike practically flatten her on his way out of the room, Willow out-cold in his arms.

“The healing takes a bit out of her. I’m taking her to bed,” Spike answered simply, not wanting to be hassled with a bunch of questions.

Once they were gone, Anita’s eyes searched out Edward’s. He shook his head slowly. “I’ve seen enough corpses to know, that girl is dead.”

“Fuck, I was afraid of that,” Anita swore, kicking the wall.

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Spike carefully placed Willow on the center of his king sized bed and stripped away her blood soaked clothing. She looked so small and fragile lying there naked. The rational part of his brain knew that when she woke she would be anything but helpless, but the need to protect her still coiled within him like a fierce beast. As her mate he would ensure that no harm would come to her.

The blonde vampire swore it wouldn’t be like his crossing, Drusilla’s insanity making it impossible for her to teach him properly. Ironically, if it hadn’t been for that bastard, Angelus, he probably would have perished in the first year like so many other fledgling vampires.

It should have been different with he and Dru, they should have been properly mated, but her ‘Daddy’ was always forefront on her mind and there was just no way he could compete with that. In retrospect he realized now that it had been for the best. If he and Drusilla had truly been together the way he had wanted, then he never would have found Willow, his true mate.

Going to the bathroom, Spike got several wet washcloths and big fluffy towels. He proceeded to wash the tiny redherom rom head to foot, paying special attention to the bite on her throat which was already starting to close. He wasn’t surprised the change had already begun, within just a few short hours the wound would likely be gone altogether without a trace of scarring. He knew it was just male pride rearing its ugly head, but part of him was glad he had marked her previously so that she would carry the evidence of his claim on her for eternity.

Every vampire she met would see the scars on that delicate throat and they would know that she was no mere minion, no accidental turning. She was chosen, turned, and would be properly whelped. True the process hadn’t been quite the traditional vampire courtship with her infidelity and the impulsive way he had turned her, but still she would be an exceptional childe and that was all anyone need ever know.

Once she had been thoroughly cleaned of all traces of blood, Spike washed himself as well and crawled in bed next to her, wrapping his cold limbs around hers and tugging the bedspread over them. He wasn’t sure what she would be like when she woke, the demon in him hoped she would be brutal and blood-thirsty, but his soul wanted her to be the same kind heart she had always been. He would find a way to restore her spirit, no matter what it took.

He would miss her heat, the way she would flush when she was embarrassed or impassioned, but he could survive without these things. Her soul, however, was another matter. Without the presence within her that made her Willow, she would be just another monster, and that was something he simply could not abide.

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Jean-Claude was listening to Anita intently as she explained everything that had happened while he and the other vampires had been sleeping. “Are you sure the petite sorciere is dead?” he asked carefully.

“Well, I didn’t take her pulse, if that’s what you mean, but yeah, I’m sure,” Anita nodded with a sigh.

Asher had gone dangerously still, with that glowing statue-like quality vampires took on when they were very upset. His face was a mask of rage, and Anita couldn’t help but worry that once again a nasty confrontation was in the group’s future.

Jean-Claude looked suddenly very tired. “She will be missed. I suppose Spike will need to be dealt with as well, but for now perhaps we should just put him back in the box. This situation complicates matters more than they already were. The pair of them were powerful allies, but unfortunately we will just have to go on without them.”

“Non,” Asher said, finding his voice at last. “The girl will rise again to the night. It is her third bite.”

All eyes turned on him.

“You are sure, mon ami?” Jean-Claude asked.

“Oui. I am positive. When we were together there were two bites on her throat that were not there when she arrived from her world. There is no doubt in my mind that he killed her with the third bite. By this time, three nights hence, she will rise again.”

“Um, and that’s a good thing, right?” Anita interjected.

Edward stepped forward then, clearly nonplussed. “How can it be a good thing when he turned her into a monster? You know what the newly risen are like,” he said reasonably, disregarding the look of offense on Jean-Claude and Asher’s faces. He didn’t care what the vampires felt. Anita was one of the few people he begrudgingly called friend and it had concerned him in recent years that something similar would happen to her. He didn’t want her getting any romantic notions about what Spike had done.

“I do not agree with Monsieur Forrester’s assessment, but he is right about the hunger that will take her. I am surprised Spike has not come to us to make accommodations for her. No matter, we will arrange for everything.”

To be continued…
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Healing Wounds