Holy water squirt gun in hand, Willow crept through the Sunnydale streets after dark, swiftly and on the balls of her feet. The dorm was still cleared out from the supposed prank by a frat house. Of course, Willow knew better; it had been the Initiative. She was making her way to her parents house from Giles'. Buffy had been held up by the demon of the week, and Xander and Anya hadn't known that would happen before they left. And Giles could barely keep his eyes open, so Willow had been stuck at the Watcher's for the night or she would've made her own way home.

As she passed the tire store, she heard a pain filled groan from the alley next to it. It was masculine, and familiar in way that also wasn't. She paused at the mouth of the alley and shined her flashlight at the figure on the ground several feet ahead. His clothes were ripped to shreds, and he moaned again. She could see the blood coating his body, several deep gashes were still bleeding. A shock of platinum blond hair told her who it was. She worried that this was a trap for five seconds before remembering that he couldn't hurt her. Or at least not much.

The blood on the backs of his thighs and butt cheeks made the decision for her. Her coat was long, even if it was decidedly girly, but she took it off and wrapped it around him.

Neither of them spoke a word until she invited him into her parents' house. And then in more silence she set herself to cleaning and bandaging his injuries. When she pierced the top of her forearm and offered it to him, he finally spoke. "Why?"

"Because if you heal faster physically, you might heal faster emotionally. I hope."

He took her arm with ginger fingers and pressed his lips to the cut, taking as little as his wounds would allow. When he was done he dropped her arm like it was made of crosses. "I deserved this. I've done worse than this, and it's right that I get it back this way."

Willow sat on the edge of the bathtub while he sat on the closed toilet,

the weight on his hip. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Spike shook his head and refused to look at her. "I'd greet the sun if I didn't think I'd get worse in hell."

"I'll make up the guest bedroom, get you something to wear, and if you want me to, I can sit with you for as long as you need." She didn't comment on the tears trailing down his cheeks.

Now wearing a pair of gray sweats and a white t-shirt Xander had left at Willow's, Spike lay on his side in the guest bedroom. Willow sat in the rocking chair like a silent citadel. They stayed like that for the entire night and most of the day. She fell asleep sitting there shortly after he drifted off.

When she woke up, he was staring into space. Her stomach growled. "I have to eat something. Which means a trip to the store or ordering pizza. But I have to get you blood anyway, so I'm thinking store. Is there anything I can get you?"

Spike shook his head slightly, and she nodded. "I'll be right back."

Before she got to the door, he said, "I don't need your pity."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Compassion isn't the same thing. I won't be long."

While she'd normally avoid them, a big box store was her best bet. Spike needed new clothes and not just blood. His clothes were unwearable. She kept it simple, a couple pair of black jeans and t-shirts, and a package of boxers and another of briefs just in case. At least his boots weren't destroyed too. When she had all the stuff for him and enough food for herself for a week, she checked out. Next stop the butcher's.

As she pulled into the driveway she noticed that the living room window was covered and same with the dining room. It took two trips for her to get her bags into the house, but Spike was there and without a word started putting stuff away. Not all of it in the right places, but she assumed he felt the need to be helpful. This appeared to be a gesture of gratitude.

His reaction to the containers of blood was to touch them awkwardly before shoving them in the fridge. When all that remained were the clothes and a bunch of empty plastic bags on the floor, he spoke up. "Who lives here?"

"For the next six months, just me. You're welcome to stay as long as you need. If my parents come back when they said they would, we'll deal with it then, but half the time they don't make it home anymore." She picked up the bags and put them in a single bag slung on the back door knob.

"Will you be here or at the dorm?"

"Where would you like me to be?"

Instead of answering, he looked into the bags with the clothes and saw that she had bought him cigarettes, a lighter, and an ashtray. He packed the cigarettes against the heel of his hand before opening it and lighting one. It felt marvelous to have his lungs full of smoke. He noticed her wrinkle her nose for a second but she said nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair, and heard one man's voice in his head, "Such pretty hair." The man's eyes and cruel smile flashed in his mind, and Spike, cigarette dangling from his lips searched the cupboards for scissors. When he found them, Willow took them off him gently. "I have clippers upstairs."

Spike gulped some air and nodded at her before following her up to the bathroom once more. He sat on the edge of the tub while she sheared his hair off, touching him as little as possible, respecting his space.

"You should take a shower." She unplugged the clippers and used a hand broom and pan to sweep his hair off the floor. "Do you want the clothes I bought you today or more sweats?"

"I just want to sleep."

"Then I'll get you more sweats." He was still standing in the middle of the bathroom when she returned with more of Xander's sweats and another t-shirt. She set them on the toilet with a bath sheet, washcloth and the bag that had boxers and briefs in it. "If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen."

"I don't need a damn thing."

"That's OK too." She closed the door behind her as she left.

When he knew she was out of earshot, he broke down in gut wrenching sobs.