Fevered

Chapter 2

“Bed. Now.”

Dawn started, still sniffling. “Have a heart will you? Their love was so pure, but everyone else was such a bastard and…” She made loud honking sounds into a Kleenex.

“A right tragedy. Now, off to bed. You’ve got school, and don’t think I’ve forgotten it.”

Dawn’s tears vanished instantly, and she scowled at him. “You weren’t such a tight-ass when Buffy was—” She cut herself off abruptly.

He glossed over her comment. Best not to think about those dark days. “Yeah, well, had the importance of teenage education re-drummed back in to me. D’you hear her tryin’ to get the cable renewed?” He shuddered.

Dawn couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’m not that pathetic…”

He raised one eyebrow pointedly.

With a sigh, she got up. “Right. Off to bed.”

“Dawn?” A voice called from upstairs.

“Or…not!” Dawn announced with sudden glee.

“So,” he retorted. “’ll take care of the Slayer.”

“I bet you will,” she grinned at him knowingly.

“I-I meant…” he flailed hopelessly. Still got him every time when his Bit bit back.

“I know exactly what you meant,” she teased before dashing up the stairs before the pointless growling and improbable death threats began. Honestly, he was just sooo predicable. And hot, too.

Muttering under his breath about teenagers that were getting too big for their britches, he went up to the Slayer’s room. All dark and quiet inside, with that pervading unpleasant scent of sickness. Of course, nothing could ever cover the sweet scent of Buffy. And nothing could stop him from reacting to said scent…

“You called, luv?” he asked softly.

“You’re not Dawn,” she mumbled unnecessarily.

“Yeah, kinda noticed that. Bit just went to bed.”

She sighed. “What time is it?”

Of course, the clock was less than a head’s turn away. He figured she still wasn’t thinking quite straight. He dimly remembered that fever did that to humans. “A bit past eleven.”

“Dawn was supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”

“I know that. Was out killin’ nasties.”

“Mmm…” She murmured in agreement. “Find anything?”

Taking that as some sort of invitation, he closed the door behind himself and sat down in the armchair across from her bed. It still felt strange for him to be here, in her room, with her. Almost like he was a visitor in some private sanctuary. Even when she’d been…gone, he’d felt out of place here. Unwelcome.

Apparently, he wasn’t right now, though. The Slayer must’ve been really out of it…

“Two fledges rising,” he answered her question. “A gang of five down by the Santino crypt. And one V’rak Demon.”

“You all right?” she whispered softly.

Her question threw him. Puffed him right up, too. “’Course, pet. Nothing takes out the Big Bad; you know that.”

She chuckled softly. “That wasn’t what you were saying when that Inkirk Demon bled all over your coat.”

He smiled. “The sarcasm’s back. Looks that those pills Dawn gave you are working.”

Although not too well, since she just murmured her agreement. Well!Buffy would never have let him get away with something like that. Of course, Well!Buffy wouldn’t have asked him into her bedroom while she cuddled up under the covers, now would she? Whole situation was buggered…

“You wanted something, pet?” He figured it was best to get things on track. A sick Slayer didn’t need a moping vampire around.

“I’m bored,” she whimpered.

He blinked. “You called me here for that?”

“No, I called Dawn in here for that. You came instead. I’m adapting. Giles used to say I was good at adapting…”

“That you are…” He sighed. “Aren’t you s’posed to be sleepin’, anyway? No time to be bored. Best concentrate on gettin’ better again.”

“I tried to sleep.” Oh, she was definitely pouting now. “I couldn’t. A-And then I was all alone and…” She sniffed. For a second, he thought she was actually crying, but then she made a desperate grab for the Kleenex box, and he realized it was just those germs working on her sinuses.

“So, you want to me…what? Put on a puppet show? Dance around in my skivvies?” he retorted.

She managed a very heartfelt glare through the Kleenex she held against her nose. “Your bedside manner’s not improving,” she informed him coldly.

He grinned. “There’s my girl,” he purred.

She sighed and closed her eyes. “You have a nice voice,” she commented. “All low and grumbly. With the pretty accent. Mmm…”

He blinked at her in disbelief. He could count on one hand the number of times she’d paid him a compliment like that. Actually, he could count on Junior – who was making quite a menace of himself at the moment – the number of times she’d complimented him. Including this one.

“Why not talking?” she protested when he’d sat in stunned silence for some time. “Talking good.”

“What do you want me to say, luv?” Funny, he’d never felt so flustered for something to say in all his unlife as he did now.

“Dunno. Anything. You could read the phonebook and made it sound sexy.”

He grinned. It seemed Sick!Buffy’s more favorable feelings toward him were a bit closer to the surface. “You want me to read you the phone book?”

She managed a lopsided smile, eyes still closed. “Kinda funny. Me sick in bed while my ex-mortal enemy reads me the phone book…”

“It is at that.” He scanned her desk, looking for something to read. Nothing there really except an old issue of Entertainment Weekly. His face twisted in distaste.

“Please?”

Fuck. No way to say no to a sad little plea like that. With a put-upon sigh, he turned to the first page and groaned. “Once upon a time, there was an airheaded li’l skank named J.Lo.” He improvised. It was the only way to survive.

She giggled.

“So there’s some generic non-threatenin’ boy. Named Jason or Mark or Ben or Corey. Real wanker. With that stupid hair that sticks up in front. And J.Lo’s threatenin’ to make him hubby number forty-two like she does, right?” He looked to Buffy for affirmation.

Got himself a snore in response.

And he let out a huge sigh of relief, tossing the magazine aside. “Night, luv.” He took a deep breath and ventured to brush his knuckles against her forehead. ‘Just to check your temperature,’ was the justification he had firmly in mind if she woke up and caught him. And, yeah, she was warm. Not too much though. Maybe a degree or two. Better than she had been, at any rate…

Reluctantly, he backed out of the room, trying not to look at that empty space on the big bed beside her. He was at an almost perpetual loss at times like this, when he got so close, whether he was ecstatic at what he’d been given or in agony over what still eluded him. Yup, she was turning him into a right ponce. Ah well, at least he was in good company…

He shut the door behind him, paused for a moment to check Dawn’s breathing to make sure that she was actually asleep, and slipped out of the house and into the night.

His Nibblet had asked him to keep an eye on things at home tomorrow while she was off to school, and he fully intended to do so. But that invitation didn’t hold for watching the Slayer sleep all night. In fact, from what he’d gathered, it would freak her out to no end. Didn’t want to do that, especially with her being sick. Bloody hell, he was developing a conscience, and it was just horrible.

Of course, she seemed to be equally disturbed when he staked out the tree in front of her house. But there was no getting around that one. Hell, like he was going to leave a house with a sick Slayer unprotected for the night.

So, here he was, buggered both ways. And, lighting up his first of many cigarettes, he settled in for the long haul…

* * *

He’d almost half nodded off himself when he heard the sound. At first, he thought it was one of the mating cries of those damn Ornor Demons, but as he listened to the hacking more closely – and, specifically, its location – he realized that it actually was someone losing their lunch.

He’d heard the sound before, of course, when Buffy had gotten herself a wee bit tipsy on their ‘date’ to his poker joint – and just why were all their ‘dates’ in quotation marks, anyway? – and his instinct was the same: Run to help.

A little vampiric speed and grace, a strategically placed branch, and Buffy’s habit of leaving that damn window open all the time, and he was inside. He could hear that Dawn was still asleep, miraculously; that girl could sleep through a jet engine taking off under her pillow. Buffy, on the other hand, was quite awake and miserable.

He found her in the bathroom, kneeling on the cold porcelain, dry heaving into the toilet. Cautiously, he approached, making sure his boots made noise on the floor so he wouldn’t spook her, and he knelt behind her, gathering up her long hair in his hands and holding it back.

She slumped back against him, as if his mere presence relieved her, and for once he was too concerned about her to react to her hot little body pressed against his chest.

Her body shook with a few more dry heaves before she turned back to just shivering, and then finally she stilled against him. Some long-forgotten human instinct caused him to rub small, comforting circles into the small of her back, and he could feel the tension flow from her body at his gentle massage.

After she’d been still for almost a minute, he spoke up in a soft voice. “Better now?”

She nodded raggedly and flushed the toilet. “I don’t think there’s anything left to puke up…”

He hushed her and began stroking her hair gently. For a moment this all reminded him eerily of Dru. He’d gotten plenty of practice caring for a girl over the centuries, but he’d never thought that Buffy would allow him to show her this tenderness.

“Think you can go back to bed now?” he whispered.

“Y-Yeah…” Her voice was shaky. “I just need to brush my teeth, and…”

He helped her stand, and she looked a bit embarrassed by how weak she was. Always so strong before him, and now this. Although her grateful little smile let him know that she didn’t regret that he was there to help her.

He left her in the bathroom and waited out in the hall for her to emerge after she’d cleaned up.

“Dawn?” she asked quietly, allowing him to lead her back to her room.

“Slept through the whole thing.”

“Good.” She yawned. “I don’t want her to catch it, too. Don’t want anyone else to hafta feel this crappy. Ugh. I wouldn’t even wish this on my worst enemy.” She crawled back into bed, moving slowly as if she were afraid that any sudden motions would bring the nausea back.

“Your worst enemy’s quite immune,” he joked lightly.

She managed a little smile. “Where were you?”

“Pardon?” He watched her curl up the blankets and fought the itch in his palms that made him want to tuck her in. Wasn’t he already making enough of a git of himself playing nurse?

“I woke up, and you weren’t there.” Her voice sounded meek, almost scared.

“Oh. I was out in the yard. Usual place.”

“Silly vampire,” she sighed. “I need you here…”

He gulped at her admission, moved closer, welcomed into her sanctuary once more. “Not the impression you’ve given me in the past…” OK, so now was probably the worst time ever to have any sort of relationship talk. But: Hello, demon? Not exactly equipped with tact?

In response, Buffy started crying. Actual bawling her eyes out.

“Oh no, luv,” he hastily backtracked. “We don’t hafta talk about this. Honest.” Yeesh. He’d known she had issues with relationships, but this was bordering on absurd…

“I hate this!” she exclaimed, frustrated, and blew her nose again.

“Yeah, well, Red and Glinda’ll be back on Monday, and then I promise to stay away until you’re good as new,” he offered.

She shook her head. “No, I hate this.” She gestured around them. “All this.”

He frowned. Never knew how to react when she went on like this.

“I was in heaven, and it was wonderful and perfect, and no one ever got the flu!” she ranted, still sniffling. “And now I feel like my head’s been packed with styrofoam, and I can’t stop throwing up, and I’m miserable!” A shaky breath. “And I want my mom…” she added so softly that even he could barely hear it.

“Luv…” He felt the need to say something, but words escaped him.

“S-She always knew just what to say to make it all better, a-and her soup always tasted the best even though it came out of the package, and she would just say it was all right and I would believe her because…because it was her.” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

He sat on the edge of her bed, leaned in to hold her – and for once without a single inappropriate thought in his mind, just to comfort her. She pushed him away though.

“I’m all snotty,” she protested before he even had a chance to feel hurt, “and gross. And you’re all pretty and perfect.”

He smirked at that assessment.

“And now you’re gonna act like a pig and make some stupid innuendo.” She pouted, jutting out her lower lip.

“Perish the thought,” he joked lightly. And then, because he couldn’t help himself: “’ll wait to make the stupid innuendo until the flu’s gone.”

She giggled and, compromising, reached out to touch his hand.

He held his breath and looked at her, and he could’ve sworn he could hear his heart pounding in his chest…

Her fingers wrapped around his, and she studied his hands. Long, pale fingers. So large and strong and beautiful, just like the rest of him. Slowly, his fingers twinned with hers, and she lay on her side, watching their hands.

“Sometimes,” she confessed softly, “you make me feel the same way she did…”

He snorted. “Great. This some new and more perverse version of the ‘I think of you as a friend’ speech?” Although, really, he should be grateful to get even that much from her…

She ignored him and barreled on. “I mean, nothing will ever be as good as having mom here…” She choked up for a second, and his thumb stroked the pulse-point on her wrist gently. Her hand tightened around his with newfound strength at his touch. “But some things… I always felt like just me around mom. That that was the real Buffy, like I didn’t owe her anything – any kind of act or… I mean I kept things from her, obviously, because: Mom. But…” She coughed. “OK, I suck with words.”

He chuckled. “But you suck so well,” he teased.

“You wish.”

He gulped. Oh yeah. That had given Junior all sorts of lovely ideas.

She yawned, fighting sleep again apparently. “I felt safe and loved with her,” she concluded. “And, when I’m with you, I feel…”

He gave her an intent, querying look.

And she blushed. Actually blushed what with the flu and all. “N-Nothing.” She blew her nose again. “Ugh. Can ‘ou ‘et me ‘ome ‘ore ‘issueth?”

The tissue box was almost empty. And apparently she was using the ‘sick’ card to get out of jail free as often as she could. He went without fuss. Came back to find that she hadn’t moved at all.

“I feel like my head’s about to explode.” She took the Kleeneces from him gratefully.

He sighed wearily. “Yeah…” It seemed not even the flu could keep this girl from running hot and cold. Although she seemed to have developed quite an attachment to his hand… He scootched the chair closer so that he could be comfortable while she played absentmindedly with his fingers. “You’re hot.”

“Hello, inappropriate timing?” she retorted. “And, no, I’m not. I’m all diseased and sweaty and—”

“Meant your temperature, luv,” he chuckled slightly. “Although, if you want me to serenade your beauty…”

“Jerk-ass,” she grumbled.

“Oh luv, you must be sick to give me an openin’ like that one…” he sighed.

Her mood turned gloomy once more at that. “How am I supposed to deal with this all? I-I’m stuck back here, and mom’s still gone, and the mortgage payment is due, and I have no money, and I have the flu on top of everything. And it’s just so hard, and…” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

Bugger. There was nothing he wanted more in the world right then to hit upon the solution to all Buffy’s problems, be her knight in shinning armor. But the harsh truth of the matter was that there weren’t any easy solutions, no quick fixes. And that only left one thing to say…

“Sleep.”

“Huh?”

“Sleep,” he repeated. “Don’t know ‘bout the rest of it right now, but you need to kill off this bug, right? And the best way is to just rest up, ‘d bet.”

“B-But—”

“Shh,” he cut her off, stroking her hair lightly with his free hand. “The rest of it doesn’t matter. First thing’s first.”

“A well!Buffy is a depressed, but productive, Buffy…”

“Somethin’ like that.”

She closed her eyes. “Works for me.”

He sighed. Not fair, her being able to get him into tight corners like that but her getting let off easy. Of course, there never was anything fair about being head-over-heels for a woman who didn’t want you back…

“Spike?” She cracked open one eyelid.

“Yeah?”

“This time, can you lay off the self-sacrificing dork act and just stay with me tonight?”

“Sure…” Couldn’t really believe his ears, but hell like he was going to object.

“I want to know that you’re here…”

“Always here.”

If she heard him, she didn’t say a thing. Just went to sleep like he’d advised. Hey, maybe he was working his way through that stubborn streak in her, after all.

And, twisting his chair around so that he could lie against it comfortably and still hold her hand, he settled in for the rest of the long and confusing night…