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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
“He can’t be dead, he can’t be…” Willow began to sob softly over the desiccated corpse, her tears falling in a steady rhythm across his face and chest.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open, empty of color, almost silver in appearance before shifting to gold as his demon visage took over and he launched himself from the coffin, knocking Willow to the side and pouncing on Abdul with such speed that the poor frightened mortal barely had time to cry out before Spike attached himself to the man’s throat, trying to drain him dry. Before he could succeed, Asher and Jean-Claude pried him off and directed him toward the next donor, a burly man with a thick goatee. Again Spike tore into him with ravenous hunger, only to be redirected once again, this time to one of Anita’s wereleopards, Caleb. The strength of his blood was enough to sate the rest of his hunger, and he stumbled away in a daze.

Willow began chanting the binding spell that was to act as a surrogate for the bond between Spike and his sire, tying him to her instead and giving him the final bit of strength he would need. As she reached the end of the chant, she grabbed the small blade, Anita had begrudgingly loaned her, and sliced into her wrist, watching in horrified fascination as the blood began to well to the surface.

Spike felt the pull of the magic and her blood calling to him and stumbled back in her direction, still looking like the nightmare creature he had been while still in the coffin, only now he was coming straight for her. Willow held her breath, trying to fight down a scream as he shuffled toward her. There was no look of recognition in his eyes, only hunger.

She panicked, changing her mind and tryin run run, but when she turned, the coffin was blocking her escape. She tried to move around it, but it was too late and he was on her. Discarding her bleeding wrist, he went straight for her tt, st, savagely burying his teeth in the tender flesh. Her arms flailed, trying to fight against him, self-preservation overpowering her former loyalty. She tried to think of something, a spell, anything, but she could barely breathe, let alone speak because of how tightly he was holding her throat, and her mind was racing toot tot to think of anything else. She realized with an eerie sense of calm that she was going to die.

Spike gulped down the spicy blood, so much better than anything he had ever tasted before. It was think with magic, and even as the others watched, almost transfixed, it began to heal him. Muscle returned over his bones as his flesh filled out once again. The wounds on his arms disappeared, and even his broken hands began to take on a normal shape again. Despite his physical form recovering, his mind continued to linger in some distant insanity, only returning enough to recognize that if he didn’t stop soon he would drain his new master dry.

He pulled his head back slightly, so that Willow could see his face, his expression a mix of confusion and possessiveness. He ground his erect penis into her jean-clad crotch and growled, “Mine,” from lips dripping with herod bod before he returned his attention to her throat, licking away the last traces of blood until the flow had stopped. Willow didn’t even have time to feel relieved before she passed out.

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She woke to the feeling of floating on a very hot cloud. No, that couldn’t be right, maybe she was dead and she was floating in a lake of fire? After all, hell would explain the headache she had. She peeled one eye open, but all she could see was something white and fluffy, it was the top of Spike’s head. She groaned and tried to sit up, but his weight was pushing against her, and she couldn’t move.

“Don’t try to get up,” came a deep, rich voice with a French accent, different from Jean-Claude’sou lou lost a lot of blood, cherie, and you and your Spike are still very weak.”

There was something about the way he had said, ‘your Spike,’ a deep bitterness, or resentment, but Willow soon forgot it as she felt a cool compress being applied to her forehead, like a little slice of heaven.

“If the water is too hot for you, we can try to move you out onto the floor, but you must stay in contact with him for a while longer. With a true master vampire, it would not have been so, but just as with Anita and Damien, your weaker, human blood is not strong enough for the bond and so it will take a bit longer to fully heal him.”

Her mind still swimming a bit, she leaned into his touch as he slid the cool cloth over her cheek. She finally managed to get her eyes open, and looked up into a face that was completely beautiful and completely tragic at the same moment. The eyes were full of pain so old, that it hurt her to think of anyone suffering so much, and then he shifted slightly and his hair fell away from his face for the briefest of seconds, and she saw the source of that pain. The scars crossing his cheek looked as if someone had poured acid over him, and before she could help herself, she gasped in shock.

The effect was immediate. With a flick of his head to hide his face once again behind a shield of golden hair, Asher rose, giving her a cold stare and stormed from the room. He had allowed himself to be humiliated once again. How could he have been so stupid as to think that this girl would be different? He didn’t even know her. Just because she looked like an angel did not mean that she would ever see past his disfigurement. He was a freak, and no one loves a freak.

Willow knew she had done something wrong, but foe lie life of her she couldn’t understand what. Her brain was still too fuzzy to make much sense of anything. Soon she heard another person entering the spacious bathroom, and opened her eyes again to see the small blonde man, Jason, carrying a glass of orange juice with a straw.

“Here, this will help a bit. Don’t worry about Asher; he’s Mr. Broody around here.”

“Yeah, I’ve known a couple of people like that over the years,” she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to upset him though.” Then, as she sipped a bit of the cold juice, a realization hit her, “Umm, where are my clothes?”

To be continued…
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Healing Wounds