Malasha shook her head.  "Childe, I'm only happy you are both still relatively whole."  She pulled down a tiny silver jar from a high shelf.  She tapped it gently with one nail, speaking a few words Raven didn't understand, and the jaw opened itself.  "Now hold your hand still.  There's not much of this, but it doesn't take much to do the job."  She carefully tipped it, tapping, and a few drops descended, turning into a silver mist as they hit Raven's palm.  The mist spread, cool and frangrant, and the pain vanished immediately, and the skin began to heal and repair before her eyes.<br/><br/>Spike's eyes were wide.  He knew what that was, and how rare it was.  "Malasha..."  Malasha cut him off.  "No, William, you be quiet.  My fault anyway this happened.  If I hadn't cured him, fifty years ago, he wouldn't have been here to do this."