Spike had walked up to the castle, through the waist high snow, only a couple of hours before the dawn. The Slayer's guarding on the night shift had almost killed him before one realized who he was.
Now he was laid out on one of the beds, in the room next to Buffy's. The shifting of bedrooms had caused some grumbling but Buffy didn't care. "What's wrong with him?" Buffy demanded before Willow had come fully out of her spell.
"Nothing," Willow said, sounding defensive.
"There has to be something. Look at him." Spike hadn't moved in the three hours since he'd passed out just outside their gates. Granted he was dead, technically, which meant he didn't, well, twitch, but still. He should have woken up or … or something.
"It's not a spell. Magical sight isn't showing anything. I think he's just exhausted."
"Why isn't he waking up? He must need something."
"I think blood maybe. Human blood."
"Fine. Tell Xander to send a squad. Nearest blood bank. Make it quick."
Buffy wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't lose him again."