Chapter 41
Sometimes, it was just the little things that finally tipped the scales.
Elizabeth was furious with her father for trying to control her life. She was overworked and hassled having to deal with the econ class he had made her take. She’d been forced to neglect the art project she was very much intrigued by to make up all her work. She was struggling her way through calculus, even with Jonathan’s skilled tutoring. And, on top of that, her relationship with Spike was in this weird state of limbo where they kind of weren’t really mad at each other, but they didn’t really know how to act, either. It was a lot of deal with.
But, when she woke up the morning after her calculus midterm to discover that, yes, indeed she had picked up the house flu, it was just too much. Willow’s medical flutterings had soon sussed out a temperature of 101.3. Her nose was running constantly to the point where she could barely sleep between blowing it. It was not a fun experience.
So, once again, it took a little thing like illness to finally make everything crystal clear.
With an irritated glance at her study-sheet for the econ midterm on Friday, Elizabeth crawled out of bed at 1:36 on Tuesday afternoon, practically collapsed into the chair in front of her computer, and opened up her web browser. Several clicks later, her finger stood poised over the mouse button, debating whether this was really a good idea.
The overwhelming verdict was “yes!”
One last click, and Elizabeth smiled at the message on her screen:
“Economics 220 dropped.”
Fully satisfied with her work of the day, she crawled back into bed and blew her nose once more, feeling strangely content despite everything…
* * *
“You awake, luv?”
Obviously she was dreaming. She didn’t get to wake up to the wonderful sound of Spike’s voice anymore. “No,” she answered matter-of-factly in a slightly hoarse voice.
She got a chuckle in response, and a large hand covered her forehead, checking her temperature. “Not feelin’ so good then, I take it…”
Elizabeth cracked her eyes open, amazed to find that, yes, Spike still was there. “Hey,” she said with a lazy smile, sniffling as her nose clogged up again, “I thought you were a dream.”
His cheeks dimpled in response, and the hand at her forehead gently brushed her hair back. “No dream,” he assured her, “just your own private nurse until Red gets back from lab.”
“Mmm, Spike-shaped nurse,” she murmured contentedly, scootching over slightly so that he could sit on the edge of her bed. “I don’t suppose I could order a sponge bath?”
He tisked her. “Be careful what you wish for,” he warned.
“Hmm,” she muttered in response.
“Forehead feels a bit warm,” he commented, finally pulling his hand away. He plucked up the thermometer from the nightstand. “You up for a re-take?”
She nodded sleepily and opened her mouth for him, letting the thermometer slip beneath her tongue. Her mouth felt all dry and sticky and weird with the metal device there, and it was difficult to keep it in place.
“Don’t worry,” he seemed to read her mind, “we’ll get that wonderful tongue ‘f yours back in business in no time.”
She mock-scowled at him over the thermometer, and he gave her an unabashed grin in response.
“Willow said she’d pick up the class notes for Contemporary Art,” he continued conversationally as he sat beside her and waited. “Devon’s nabbin’ calc tomorrow since he has class in the math building right after. I called Mum and explained that you’re out for the week. She told you to just rest up and get better.”
“Mm-mmm mm-mngm,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“Actually, I already gave ‘er your thanks in advance,” Spike miraculously managed to translate the thermometer-impaired words. “She also said you need chicken soup. You eaten yet today?”
She shook her head negative.
“Hungry?”
She considered it for a moment before hastily nodding.
“’ll microwave you up a bowl ‘s soon as we’ve checked your fever, then,” Spike decided. He checked his watch. “Still another minute to go,” he sighed. “Soddin’ ancient thermometer…”
She smiled around the glass tube.
“Anya’s stoppin’ by Winston’s office tomorrow afternoon to discuss her degree, so she can warn ‘im you might be out for the midterm,” he went on discussing every trivial matter he could think of. “’m sure she’ll be able to get you an extension on it, if you’re still out ‘f it by then.”
“Mmf-wm-fmwp!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“There’s a fish in your dresser?” Spike made a hopeless guess.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Mm-gmmf,” she informed him.
“’f course, ‘m impossible,” he translated with a rakish grin, “that’s why you love me so much.”
“Mm-mmm-mm.”
“I think I prefer not to try to interpret that one,” he informed her with a wink. A quick check of his watch determined that the irksome thermometer could go. “Let’s see how you’re doin’, then, luv,” he commented, pulling the thermometer from her mouth.
“I dropped econ,” she managed to get her sentence out from earlier.
Spike sat there frozen for a second, hand still in midair holding the thermometer. Then he shook it off and checked the little red line. “Oh,” he said simply.
“All you can say is ‘oh’?” she groaned in disbelief.
He squinted at the device before him before sighing and plucking the case for his reading glasses out of his duster pocket. “Sure ‘s wise to make a choice like that when you’re not feelin’ well?” he inquired. “I mean, I get that you don’t wanna take the midterm right now, but—”
“That’s not why,” she assured him. She smiled at the too-cute sight of Spike, wire-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of his nose, analyzing the thermometer. “What’s the verdict?” she inquired.
“99,” he answered. “Fever’s back a bit. Want some Tylenol?”
“Yeah,” she agreed, snatching up another Kleenex and blowing her nose.
“’ll get you another trash bag, too,” he assured her, noticing that her current one was in danger of overflowing.
“Thanks,” she agreed in a tired voice.
She must have drifted into sleep for a while because when she woke up, the wastebasket by her bed was empty with a fresh bag inside just waiting for her crumpled up tissues, a glass of water and two Tylenol gel-caps were on the nightstand, and Spike had retreated to Willow’s bed, making himself generally at home among the quilts and pillows and deeply engrossed in a book.
“Spike?” she murmured.
His attention instantly turned back to her. “Din’t disturb you, luv, did I?” he asked apologetically.
“Nope,” she assured him, pulling herself up into a sitting position and downing the Tylenol.
“That should knock the fever back down,” he informed her. “You’ve had it a li’l over two days now, so ‘m willing to bet it’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“I feel less crappy,” she agreed, lying back down with a contented sigh.
“Anythin’ else you need?” he offered.
A nice warm Spike pillow to snuggle up against. “Does that offer for soup still stand?” she requested, sniffling slightly.
“Will you actually stay awake enough to eat it this time?” he countered.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have the worst bedside manner ever?” she shot back.
“Bedside, yes,” he agreed smugly. “The complaints tend to stop once I actually get in the bed with ‘em, though.”
Elizabeth giggled. “Actually, you’re kind of sweet. All attentive and cute.”
He huffed. “Know you’re just tryin’ to butter me up,” he said defensively.
She gave him a piteous look. “Soup?” she repeated in a meek little voice.
He let out a good-humored sigh. “Sometimes I think you only love me for my ability to operate a microwave,” he teased lightly, getting up and walking over to her. He caught her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Be right back, OK, luv?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she nodded contentedly.
He was only gone for a minute, and she took advantage of that time to complete the great effort of sitting herself up against the headboard once more.
“Still awake?” he inquired, bumping the door open with one lean hip as he carried the tray in. “’Cause if not, you’re gettin’ a rude awakening…”
“You’d wake up a sick person?” She flashed her best Bambi eyes in his direction before frowning. That strange confusion that sometimes overwhelms everything during illness just couldn’t puzzle out where that tray could have come from…
“Purloined from the fine dinin’ establishment downstairs,” he answered her unspoken question before setting the tray carefully in her lap. “Please tell me I don’t need to spoon feed you.”
She sniffed the steaming soup in front of her, a blissful expression on her face. “Mmm, chicken soup…” she sighed. “You know, the only time I ever like this is when I’m sick.” Having taken in all the healing aroma she could into her clogged nostrils, she picked up the spoon and began slowly sipping away at it.
“Exactly the same way with me,” Spike agreed, moving over to Willow’s bed.
“Sit with me?” Her words brought him to a dead halt.
“All right,” he tried to sound nonchalant as he settled himself down on the edge of her bed once more.
She smiled up at him and slurped up a noodle. He watched her eat intently, a fond light in his eyes.
“You want crackers?” he offered.
“No, I’m good,” she assured him.
“’S always rough,” he commented, still watching her slowly devour the soup, “first time sick away from home.”
“Like you would know,” she pointed out the propinquity of his mother.
“Doesn’t matter that she’s in the same town,” he insisted. “You’re still stuck by yourself with no one to bring you things an’ baby you.”
“You guys seem to be doing both quite well,” she countered.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but ‘s not the same as mum…”
She considered it for a moment. “Strangely enough, yeah,” she agreed. “About the only time my step-mom and I could stand each other was when I was sick.”
“Think there’s some gene in women that gets turned on once they’ve had kids,” Spike decided. “Makes ‘em able to make any illness better.”
“Don’t suppose I could borrow your mom for the week?” she agreed wistfully.
“You sayin’ I’m a bad nurse?!” he demanded, offended.
“Well, you’re not wearing one of those cute white uniforms with the miniskirt,” she countered. And blinked, spoon paused halfway to mouth. “OK, very scary that I now have that image in my head,” she decided.
“Not about to turn transvestite on you,” he assured her.
“No, I mean it’s scary because the image in my head in so damn lickable,” she clarified. “I don’t suppose you would ever…”
“For the sake of my sanity, ‘m assuming that’s just the fever talkin’,” he joked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Although say that to me when you’re better, and ‘s a whole different story…”
She laughed and caught the soup that spilled down her chin with a napkin. “Don’t make me laugh while I’m eating,” she scolded. “That’s your first nursing lesson right there.”
He smiled and noticed that her bowl was almost empty. “You gonna want more?” he inquired.
She scooped up the last of the chickeny-noodly goodness with a shake of her head. “All full,” she assured him.
“Got your appetite back today,” he noticed approvingly as he took the tray from her.
She settled comfortably back down into her pillows. “It feels like the worst is over,” she agreed. And snatched up another Kleenex. “If odly my node would stop rudding.”
“Cute little nose like yours shouldn’t hafta ever go through anythin’ like this,” he agreed.
She smiled and closed her eyes. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” she said with a yawn.
“Whassat?” he asked curiously.
“Playing the perfect boyfriend role while I’m too sick to resist,” she answered.
He grinned. “It workin’?”
“Ask me when I’m better,” she retorted, rolling over onto her side so that she faced him. She shivered slightly.
“You cold, luv?” he asked, concerned. He leaned over and settled his arm in the small of her back.
She sighed contentedly at the feel of his loose embrace. This way definitely led the road to recovery. “Don’t,” she requested softly after a minute.
“’m sorry,” he instantly pulled away. “You shouldn’t hafta think about me—”
“I like thinking about you,” she assured him, catching his hand. “And I would very much like a Spike blanket right about now, but I don’t want you to get sick, too.”
“I don’t care,” he informed her softly.
“But I do,” she insisted. “I care about you, and—”
“Now I know ‘s the fever talkin’,” he cut her off.
“The whole econ thing,” she began again. “I didn’t drop because—”
“Shh,” he soothed her. “Tell me when you’re better, all right? Got plenty of time for all this. Right now you just need rest.”
Her weary body agreed with him wholeheartedly. “Can I get another blanket, then?” she requested.
One of Willow’s spare quilts landed on her in response. She murmured from her snug confinement as he tucked the blanket in around her.
“’ll be right over here if you need me,” Spike commented. He dropped a quick kiss on her brow before she could react, and then got up and returned to Willow’s bed and his homework.
“What’re you reading?” she asked, her voice drowsy.
“Just Latin,” he informed her.
“Can you read it to me?”
“’S in Latin,” he repeated.
“Don’t care,” she insisted with the stubbornness of a two-year-old. “Wanna hear your voice.”
He chuckled. “All right, then,” he agreed. “If nothin’ else, it should put you right back to sleep…”
Elizabeth smiled and let herself drift off at the soothing sound of his voice. The accented baritone he used for reading aloud was beautiful and, sure enough, it wasn’t long before she drifted off once more…
* * *
“How long do you think I have until my dad finds out?” Elizabeth asked, blowing her nose on a napkin and picking up one of her many glasses of orange juice. She downed it in one gulp.
“Long enough that you don’t have to worry about this at your first official dining hall meal,” Willow answered smartly.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I want to be prepared for the disaster before it strikes,” she insisted. “Plus, except for the runny nose, I feel fine.”
“Why would your dad find out at all?” Jonathan chimed in. “I mean, the school’s not supposed to release those records without your approval…”
“Daddy’s got spies on her,” Spike answered in a gruff voice. He obviously wasn’t enjoying this conversation.
Elizabeth nodded. “But it’s only been a week since I dropped,” she thought aloud. “Plus, I’ve been sick the whole time, so that should buy me a little while longer to…”
“What?” Spike inquired, suddenly interested. “What ‘xactly are you gonna do? Thought this was an all-around lose situation.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “That’s why I have to figure out my options fast,” she decided.
Cordy shrugged. “You were sick,” she insisted. “That’s a valid excuse. There’s no way he can come down on you this semester.”
Elizabeth took another orange juice glass two down in two gulps. “This semester,” she agreed, “but if I don’t start planning now, I’ll be stuck in an even worse situation next year.”
“You really think your dad will revoke your tuition over this?” Willow asked seriously. “I mean, he could be bluffing…”
“Wishful thinking,” Anya countered. “He sees Elizabeth’s education as an investment. If it’s not going to get the return he wants, then he’ll pull out his funds.”
“Elizabeth is not an investment!” Willow insisted vehemently.
“But Anya’s right,” Elizabeth quickly stepped to the other woman’s defense, “that’s exactly how my dad’s thinking about this.”
Anya gave everyone at the table a smug smile.
“So, in a couple of weeks you’re going to have no tuition,” Jonathan summarized. “That’s not good.”
Elizabeth shook her head ruefully.
“Delay,” Cordelia repeated her advice. “Play up the pity card for this class, and then worry about next year after you’ve had time to think things through.”
Elizabeth cast a pointed look in Spike’s direction, wondering what he thought about this option. He was studiously not paying attention. Not help there, then.
“If it’s really a problem of not being able to afford tuition,” Xander spoke up for the first time nervously, “the college helps people with that sort of thing, you know.”
Several curious glances turned in his direction.
“Well,” he hastily moved to explain, “my parents flat-out refused to pay for me – not that they had any money anyway – but the college actually has decent loan programs. If nothing else, they’ll give you work-study.”
“It has to be too late in the year to apply, though,” Elizabeth bit her lip.
Willow shook her head. “It’s got to be worth it at least to ask,” she pointed out. “For next year, if not this one.”
Elizabeth conceded the point. “So, how long do you think I have?” she repeated her chief concern.
“It really depends on who’s keeping an eye on you,” Willow shook her head. “My guess, though, is that you won’t have any problems until your updated transcript’s been filed at the registrar’s office.”
“I worked there sophomore year,” Devon provided. “They’re really slow. A couple of weeks at least.”
“Giving me Spring Break to sort everything out,” Elizabeth concluded. She downed her last glass of orange juice. “Gah!” she shuddered. “Why can’t they at least make orange juice palatable?”
“One ‘f the great mysteries of the universe,” Spike declared before getting up. “See everyone later,” he announced briskly before taking off.
“What did I say now?” Elizabeth wondered.
Everyone shrugged.
With a sigh, Elizabeth snatched up her grilled cheese from her plate and hurried off to bus her tray. She caught Spike right as he reached the stairs.
“You’re takin’ that back to your room?” he asked speculatively when she caught up to him.
She took a bite out of the sandwich. “No, I was going to eat it back there, but I wanted to catch up to you before you pulled another disappearing act.”
“I don’t—” he began.
“Yes, you do,” she insisted. “You’ve been all…edgy ever since I dropped. I thought you’d be happy. So spill.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, and he looked very much like he was either going to start yelling or close himself off again. However, the soft tone he finally spoke with surprised her. “You made this into this whole big thing,” he said with barely suppressed emotion, “and then it turns out you get this li’l cold—”
“I missed class for a week!” she protested.
“Fine, big cold. And somethin’ like that causes you to just give up an’ drop when nothing I…” he trailed off and turned from her, heading up the spiral staircase.
Elizabeth bit her lip and followed him up. “I didn’t ‘give up’,” she finally said.
“Really?” he countered. “’Cause that’s sure what it looks like. You’ve got no plans for dealin’ with this. Was just a spur ‘f the moment thing.”
“Kinda not!” she shot back, annoyed. “So, yeah, the details have to be ironed out a bit. That doesn’t mean that I don’t think that I made the right choice.”
“The easiest choice, you mean,” he countered. “Ditch the midterm, and—”
“How on earth is this choice ‘easy’?” she demanded. “The midterm was a one-time deal. I studied a couple of nights, got it over with, and ta-da! This is a huge, complicated choice with all sorts of implications I haven’t even thought through yet.”
“’S not really an informed choice then, see,” he pointed out. “You acted impulsively, and—”
They had arrived at the door to his room, now, but this conversation didn’t seem to be allowing them to go separate ways, so they remained fixed in the hallway.
“It wasn’t an impulsive choice,” she insisted. The last of the grilled cheese was devoured so that she could cross her arms over her chest. “Yeah, the whole flu thing was the final nail in the coffin, but the whole big coffin had been built before that.”
“So, you’re sayin’ you’re ready to handle this,” he said unconvinced. “No more cavin’ in to daddy?”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought you would be happier. After all, this is good for you.”
“But is it good for you?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she insisted. “Why else would I have done it?”
“So, then I don’t matter,” he concluded.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “So, I’m supposed to make all my decisions based off of what’s best for me, except then you’ll get pissed because I didn’t make them because of you?” she retorted sarcastically.
“Well…yeah,” he shook his head, “’cause of course you can do contradictory things at once…” He banged the heel of his hand against his forehead at the irrational contortions his mind was going through. “Think I’ve officially gone insane, luv,” he said apologetically.
“ ‘Gone’?” she teased.
He pouted.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I get the whole Endless Loop Of Badness brain trap.”
He offered her a shy smile. “Just wishin’ I was a part of your decision, I guess,” he confessed.
“You were a part,” she assured him. “Not the only part of the coffin, but definitely a part. You were, like, the lining.”
He blinked at her. “Did you just you just call me coffin lining?” he asked in disbelief.
She winced. “Yeah, we’ve already established that my analogies suck,” she agreed, slightly amused by the oddity that had once more emerged from her mouth.
“As long as ‘s not you that’s suckin’ again,” he teased.
She swatted him in the arm playfully in response. “No need to rub it in, you big baby.”
His expression turned serious again. “We good, then?” he asked nervously. “’m sorry about bein’ all ‘Grr! Argh!’ an’ all…”
“We’re good,” she assured him with a smile.
“Better’n good,” he countered with a smirk.
She blushed, suddenly aware of just how closely they were standing together. Only one step and she would be able to lean in and taste that delicious smirk for herself…
She shook off the impulse and took a step back. “I’ve got a lot of work to do,” she said, breaking the moment.
Spike seemed to snap back to reality at that, too. “Right,” he agreed. “Probably can come up with some use for my worthless self, too.”
She grinned. “I can think of a few suggestions,” she teased. “How do you feel about whipped cream?”
He laughed. “You know better’n to get me wound up like that,” he tisked, fumbling with his doorknob.
She gave him an unrepentant smile. “Be sure to think of me,” she requested as he retreated into his room.
His face turned beet-red given what he was about to go do. “Wicked minx,” he grumbled, slamming the door.
“Love you, too,” Elizabeth whispered under her breath, too quiet to even be heard as she lingered in front of the closed door. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned to her room and crashed right into— “Jonathan!” she exclaimed with a start.
He rubbed his head. “Sorry, I thought you saw me.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she insisted. “I’m just this huge klutz. You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah,” he assured her, “you?”
“Fine,” she agreed.
“So, er…yeah,” he muttered nervously, walking right past her.
“See ya,” she agreed, heading back to her room.
“Elizabeth?” he said tentatively, halting her right in the lounge doorway.
“Yeah?” she turned back to look at him curiously.
He shuffled on his feet nervously, looking down at the ground. “I don’t know if I should say this, but…”
“What?” she asked encouragingly, suddenly very curious.
His cheeks flushed. “I know it’s really not my business,” he mumbled, “and you probably don’t want me to talk about it, and you’ll probably be mad at me…”
Her brow furrowed. “I won’t be mad,” she assured him.
He nodded nervously but still refused to look at her. There was a moment’s pause before the words practically rushed from his mouth. “It’s just that you and Spike used to be together, and you seemed really happy. It seemed like you had this really good thing, and…I just wanted to say, well, good things are really hard to come by.” He shut up like a clam, and his face flamed a bright red before he turned away in flight back to his room.
Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile to herself. Jonathan had probably been building up the courage to say that ever since she and Spike broke up three weeks ago. “You’re right,” she called after him.
He paused at his door for a second. “Huh?”
She gave him a smile. “I think you’re right,” she repeated, “and thanks.”
He gulped. “No problem,” he mumbled before darting into his room and closing the door.
Elizabeth shook her head with a smile still on her face. Even Jonathan had seen clearly what seemed so confused to her. Not anymore, though. Because every day things were becoming clearer in her mind. Her gaze lingered on Spike’s closed door one last time before turning to the task before her. After all, she still had a lot of work to do…