"Hand me my blue sweater?" Willow asked Buffy.
Buffy stretched across Willow's bed to reach the sweater. "Here you go. What time's Oz picking you up?"
"Right now!" The werewolf grinned from the open doorway. "You ready, baby?"
"Yep." Willow decided she could not cram another thing into her bag. "We're off to San Diego for Thanksgiving break! You know, I've been scared to death I'd catch that flu bug that's going around...half the town has it! And then I'd miss my first trip with Dingoes!"
"You sure you don't want to tag along, Buffy?" Oz asked sincerely. "Xander's coming; he said he'll be our roadie."
Willow sighed. "HOW many jobs does this make?"
"I think about forty-two." Buffy laughed, thinking about Xander's unrelenting quest to find the ideal job. "Thanks, Oz, but somebody's got to keep the hellmouth nasties at bay! Especially since Giles and Olivia are going to Monterey for the holiday. Who'd have thunk it?"
"Yeah, getting fired sure did wonders for his social life," Willow put in. "But...you're sure you'll be all right? On your own? I mean, everyone will be away!"
"Not everyone," Buffy said significantly. "Aren't you forgetting someone?"
It had been over a month since a certain blond vampire had decided to join them as a most reluctant ally. Spike was the best fighter Buffy had ever seen; but he made no secret of the fact that he hated helping...and hated them.
Willow glanced at Oz, who said hastily, "We'd better get going."
Buffy saw them drive off to pick up Xander; and felt a little envious. "Oh well," she sighed, "guess I'd better check in at home before I go meet my partner in crime."
"Buffy!" Joyce had been watching for her. "I'm sorry, honey, but your Aunt Caroline called; and she's got the flu! She's very sick, and you know she has no other relatives..."
"You mean we have to go to Sacremento?"
"Not you- I don't want you to catch it! No, you just stay here and have fun with your friends, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Unless...you want to visit your father in L.A.?"
"No." Buffy shook her head vigorously. She really wasn't too fond of her father's girlfriend Doreen. "I'll be fine on my own."
"You can ask Willow to stay over," Joyce suggested.
Buffy merely smiled. She knew her mother would insist on making other arrangements if she knew everyone was away. But finally Joyce was gone, and Buffy wandered up to her room to change. It really was getting a lot colder....
The blond vampire waiting in the cemetery raised a dark eyebrow at the sight of her. "Ready for the arctic, pet?"
"It's freezing tonight," Buffy said defensively, huddling in her fleecy red jacket. "Just because vampires don't feel the cold..."
Spike scowled at her...she really was a bit pale.
"You feel all right, Slayer? Not that I care," he added quickly.
"I'm fine," Buffy insisted, trying to keep from shaking with chills. "All I need is a warm bath and a decent night's sleep! For once!"
He shrugged, and they fell into step to do their customary sweep. The Slayer was uncharacteristically silent. Usually, when they patrolled, she made sarcastic little remarks that provoked him to retaliate. Or, they indulged in a bantering parade of insults that, increasingly, were beginning to veer over into innuendo.
But she never kept silent.
Buffy wished her bones would stop aching. If she could just get warm....
The attack from five seasoned vampires took Spike and Buffy by surprise. Spike pivoted easily, back to the Slayer...facing out in their usual pattern as the others ringed them and closed in...
He backhanded the first vampire, sending him crashing into another. He spared a glance for the Slayer, and nearly lost it!
One of the vampires had grabbed her and lifted her while she flailed helplessly...the other vampire prepared to bite. Spike yelled, staked the one menacing him, and jumped the vampire who held Buffy. Spike snapped his neck while Buffy retrieved her stake and plunged it awkwardly into the other one. The remaining two scrambling to their feet took one look, decided they didn't like the odds, and fled.
Spike was nearly apoplectic with fury. "What the hell were you playing at, Slayer? You nearly got ki...got ME killed! Of all the incompetent, pathetic...are you even listening?"
Buffy gave him a wavery little smile; and tumbled over in a heap.
Spike struggled to open the front door of the house on Revello Drive without dropping the Slayer. At last he managed it, and placed his burden carefully on the couch.
"Good thing they never did that disinvite spell," he muttered. He stared down at the girl and brushed his fingers across her forehead. He almost jumped back in shock...she was burning up!
Panicked, he ran for the phone. He tried one number after another- where WAS everyone? Finally, in desperation, he called the University Health Center.
The cheery voice on the other end listened patiently to the by now almost hysterical vampire. "Sounds like it's just this flu bug going around."
"But...what's the cure?" Spike demanded helplessly.
"Time. It's a 48 hour virus; just see that she stays warm, and drinks plenty of liquids."
Spike hated to hang up the phone- he felt that he was cutting a lifeline.
The Slayer was tossing restlessly, burning up with fever.
"Uh, pet...is there somebody...ANYBODY...I can call for you?"
She looked at him through delirious eyes. "Gone..all...away."
"Well, how about I help you to bed, and you'll be fine?" Spike said, despising the false note of cheer in his voice.
She merely turned away from him, nestling into the couch.
"All right, guess you can stay put." He started for the door. "I'll call tomorrow to check on you, ok?"
There was no answer.
He swore, one hand on the doorknob. All he had to do was walk out; he was in nowhise responsible for the Slayer. He'd been working with her for a month now, much against his will...but they were far from friendly.
Spike sighed, threw the bolt again, and went back to her. "C'mon pet...let's get you upstairs."
He picked her up; and she whimpered a protest. "Hot..."
"We've got to get the fever down, luv."
The Health Center lady had advised a tepid bath; he carried her into the bathroom and began filling the tub.
When he was satisfied with the temperature he said, "There....get in. I'll find you something to sleep in."
Spike rummaged through her drawers, finally pulling out a pale yellow silk nightshirt. He hurried back- only to find her still flat on the floor where he'd left her.
"All right, Slayer," he said grimly, "looks like we're about to get better acquainted than either of us ever bargained for."
Resolved to waste no more time, Spike ruthlessly stripped off her clothes and lowered her into the bath.
"Unhh," Buffy began struggling as the water cooled her heated skin.
"Take it easy, kitten." Spike picked up the washcloth and cleaned her face with an awkwardness that was nonetheless quite gentle. He supported her with one arm around her shoulder...unconsciously, she leaned back against him.
Spike swallowed, telling himself he was NOT turned on by this. "I think that's enough, Slayer," he murmured. "Let's get you dry."
He lifted her to her feet and towelled her thoroughly.
Buffy's sea-colored eyes opened wide. "Spike," she whispered, "...sick..."
Spike nearly dropped the towel. He did not know if she was telling him she was sick; or if she'd noticed his condition and was calling him a pervert.
Hastily he pulled on the nightshirt, buttoning it lopsided so he had to start over. At least her skin felt much cooler.
He forced his mind away from thoughts of how her skin felt....
He deposited her in her own bed. "Better now?"
She shook her head, eyes filling with tears. "Cold!" she cried.
Then her body was wracked with chills.
Spike fetched another blanket, which didn't help.
"Cold," she repeated, sobbing.
"Oh, sod it all!" Spike exclaimed. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the cocoon of blankets. Her hands reached out from under the covers, and linked around his neck.
"Uh, pet..." Spike began. His pants were uncomfortably tight as a result of the bath; and he would have liked to remove his shoes. At least he'd slipped his leather coat off when they were downstairs. "Why not...just...let go for one min..."
"Nooo!" Buffy wailed, clinging tighter.
"Just for a second!" Spike pleaded. "Then, I'll be right back...see?"
Pouting, she loosed her hold slightly...enough for him to squirm out of his clothes and shoes.
"There!" he said triumphantly, wrapping his arms around her again.
Satisfied, she snuggled closer.
"Uh, luv...it's cold out here," Spike said weakly. It was; the weather was much chillier and by now he was clad only in his boxers.
Buffy looked at him appraisingly, then lifted the edge of the sheet in invitation.
Fearful she'd change her nind, Spike scooted in hurriedly.
But Buffy didn't seem to want to change her mind, cuddling closer.
"Uh. pet, maybe you shouldn't...." One bare leg slid between his. "Aaahhh! Oh, baby, you....here, are you going to sleep?"
She was.
With growing indignation, Spike saw her cooly tuck her little blonde head under his chin and close her eyes. If she hadn't been so obviously unwell, he'd swear she was doing it on purpose to torment him.
He sighed, resigned to his state of frustration. "Oh Slayer...what a bloody big pain you are, for such a little girl."
Spike eventually fell asleep; only to dream he had joined an expedition to the North Pole...but if he could just reach the nearest igloo, there would be hot chocolate with those little marshmallows...
He opened his eyes to find that Buffy had kicked off the covers and now lay beside him in all her naked glory.
"Bloody hell, Slayer!" Spike yelled.
She sighed and opened big glazed eyes. "Hot," she mumbled.
Then, even before he was fully awake, her teeth began to chatter. "Cold..."
Spike groaned. Good thing he was a vampire and immune. This flu bug sure didn't look like much fun for humans. And moreover, it was tough on a vampire's libido. Maybe he should get her something to drink?
But when he tried to get up, she fastened both arms around his waist and moaned. "Noooo...cold!"
Spike pulled the sheet and comforter over them. Whatever she'd done with her nightshirt, he wasn't going to worry about it. Instead, he pulled her closer, rubbing her back until the chills ceased again.
He waited until she drifted off- then rushed downstairs. He found bottled water in the refrigerator, along with some sheep's blood that Joyce kept for him. He drank a glass cold, grimacing at the taste- but he didn't want to take time to heat it up....he shouldn't be away from her that long.
He dashed back with the water, only to find she'd kicked the covers off again as her fever mounted.
"Hot," she complained.
He propped her up and made her drink the water, uneasy at the heat radiating from her skin.
"Maybe you should have another bath now?" he suggested.
In answer she merely held out her arms to him.
Spike's jaw dropped. Did she seriously expect him to carry her into the bathroom and give her another bath?
Apparently she did.
Once again, Spike attempted to wash the Slayer while trying to keep his eyes from devouring her nudity; that he was not very successful was evidenced by his increasing frustration. He was the one who needed a cold bath, NOT the Slayer!
He fumbled a long white t-shirt over her head, and carried her downstairs to the couch.
"Here, kitten, I'll turn on the telly for you," he offered, glad to see it was growing dark again. Spike fetched some orange juice, and returned to find Buffy with tears streaming down her face.
"Pet!" he screamed. "What is it? Are you in pain?"
She shook her head.
"What then?"
"You went away," she whispered, forlornly.
"Bloody hell!" Spike exploded. "I went to get juice for you...you're supposed to drink a lot!"
The tears continued to flow.
Telling himself it was foolish to feel guilty, Spike sank down on the couch, pulling Buffy against him. "Don't cry, luv. I'm right here."
She continued to weep silently while he gently wiped away her tears.
"This is ridiculous," he grumbled. "Whoever heard of a vampire playing nursemaid to a Slayer?"
At last he coaxed her to drink the juice; and after that she seemed fairly content...as long as she remained in close contact with him. But when he stripped and remade her bed, and ran down to put her sheets in the washer, he found her huddled on the floor- crying again.
"I'm right here!" shouted the harried vampire.
"Bath?" she asked, clinging again. Spike considered. He really really wanted a shower; and there was no way the Slayer would let him out of her sight long enough to take one on his own.
"Ok, kitten," he decided, turning on the shower. "Here's where we kill two birds with one stone."
"Don't want to kill birds," she pouted. "Want you...in bed."
His mind jerked, and he felt a sudden urge to breathe. Did she have a clue what she was saying? No, of course she didn't...
Spike rummaged thrugh Joyce's drawers and finally found a pair of shorts that he figured would fit well enough; he grabbed another sleep shirt for the Slayer.
"Ok, luv, shower time!"
Buffy made no effort to help; she simply refastened her arms around him and stood there, practically asleep on her feet. He got them both showered and dried- and then made two discoveries. First, Joyce's shorts wouldn't go up; and second, Buffy wouldn't unlock her arms long enough for him to get her shirt on!
Spike gave up. "I guess we go au naturel, pet."
He got them both tucked into her bed, wondering if he'd be able to get some clothes on tomorrow. She snuggled into her favorite postion, pressing shamelesly against him.
Spike clenched his jaw. She's sick, you wanker...don't touch! He groaned out loud. "Cor, Buffy, this sodding flu is more like to kill me than you!"
Still, he woke with a definite sense of well-being. It was nice to hold someone again, especially someone so soft and warm....impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her nose.
When he pulled back, he saw that her eyes were open and she was smiling at him.
"Hello, Cutie! Feeling better?"
Buffy nodded vigorously. "Yes, I am. I...Spike!"
Her cry of alarm made him bolt upright. "What? What happ..."
"I'm naked!" Her green eyes widened in shock.
Spike relaxed, chuckling. "Me too."
"Oohhh!" Buffy blushed beet red. "Did you...did we...oh, God!"
He grinned. "Now, don't get your knickers in a twist, luv! It so happens we didn't do anything. You've had the blasted flu for two days!"
She considered this, her small white teeth biting her lower lip uncertainly. "You mean, you've been taking care of me?"
It was his turn to be embarrassed. "Nobody else seems to be home. And a bloody nuisance you've been, too!"
She giggled, unabashed. "I'm hungry."
Swearing again, Spike pulled on his jeans and padded downstairs to find soup and crackers. While there, he finished the rest of the blood.
Buffy trailed out to the kitchen, once more dressed in a long white t-shirt. "Um, Spike, when I'm sick....I like those little oyster crackers with my soup!"
He gave her a murderous look, but rummaged around until he found a box of oyster crackers. She ate hungrily as Spike watched with approval- even snabbling a few of her crackers.
This time when he turned on the telly, she was more interested. He hesitated, then edged onto the couch beside her. She promptly snuggled against him, making herself comfortable.
Spike was astonished. Somehow they'd crossed a boundary together- moving from a cautious truce to an easy familiarity; and he wasn't sure how he felt about the change.
Then she pulled him down to lie beside her; and he decided he liked it very much.
They cuddled together while they watched one of his favorite movies, Sid and Nancy. Usually it enthralled him, but tonight he was more intent on the girl beside him. Buffy enjoyed the film but couldn't understand his love for the music.
"It's bloody marvelous," he insisted. "Tell you what, pet...a lot of the old punk bands are having reunion tours now. The next time there's one in L.A., I'll take you to see them live- and you see if you don't like the sound!"
"'Kay," Buffy assented sleepily.
"Time for bed," Spike decided, carrying Buffy back upstairs. He put her on her bed...only to find her clasp around his neck didn't loosen.
"Wonderful," he muttered. "How'd I ever come down to this? Acting as a vampire security blanket for a Slayer?"
"Mmm," she mumbled drowsily, "you feel so good."
He studied her pretty face as she fell asleep in his arms; and his mouth twisted into a rueful smile.
"Not as good as you do, pet. Not near as good!"
She was still sleeping when he woke; but there was no sign of fever. He brushed his lips across her forehead to make sure. No...quite normal.
He slipped cautiously from the bed and headed down to the kitchen. Between them they'd eaten all the little crackers, but he could make her tea and toast. He was just taking the kettle off the stove when he heard the key in the back door, and Joyce walked in.
"What...Spike? Did you stay over?" Joyce asked, not seeming upset.
Spike thanked his lucky stars that he'd taken the opportunity to get fully dressed. "Uh, yeah, I did. Buffy caught the flu."
"Oh, no! Aunt Caroline was finally better, so I came home. I was worried about Buffy all alone, but..." beaming at him, "I should have known you'd take care of her! Is my poor baby very sick?"
Just then Buffy bounced into the kitchen.
"Spike," she said accusingly, "did you forget about my bath? Why didn't you...oh!" She suddenly spotted Joyce.
"Now, sweetheart, you're taking advantage of Spike's kindness to you," said Joyce reprovingly. "I can see that you're much better...surely you can fix your own bath!"
"Oh, right!" Buffy said quickly. "I will. Is that toast for me?"
"Yeah. Would you like some, Joyce?"
"No, thanks, Spike. I have a headache, and I'm very tired. I guess, if Buffy doesn't need me, I'll go up to bed."
She hurried out, and Spike and Buffy exchanged relieved glances.
"I don't think she suspected anything," Buffy whispered.
"I'd better go, pet. Your mum will look after you now." Spike found himself curiously reluctant to leave.
For a minute he thought she looked disappointed, but then she smiled. "Sure, Spike. Thanks for taking such good care of me."
"My pleasure, pet," he replied, surprised to find that he meant it.
She stood on her toes, stretching to give him a soft little kiss on the cheek.
Spike was stunned into silence, staring at her. She flushed, and backed off. "Thanks again."
He forced himself to turn and walk away.
Spike felt strangely disoriented...he did a quick sweep of the graveyard, but it was boring without the Slayer and he didn't linger.
No matter how much he told himself that Buffy didn't want or need him, he couldn't help wondering how she was, and what she was doing.
Just before midnight he stopped at a supermarket and bought some chocolate chip ice cream. When he walked past her house, the light was still on downstairs; and Spike made up his mind...he could at least drop off the ice cream.
He rapped diffidently at the kitchen door; and Buffy ran to let him in.
"Spike, you're back!" she cried joyfully, hugging him tightly.
"I uh...brought you ice cream, pet....It's the best thing when you're sick," he stammered, shaken by the hug.
"Spike," Buffy said solemnly, "my mother caught the flu!"
He stared at her, then peeled off his leather coat with determination. "I'd best stick around and help you, Slayer. Or you'll be getting it again! And there's no way I want to go through that any time soon, let me tell you!"
Spike was prepared to overrule her objections, but Buffy didn't make any.
"Right," she agreed eagerly. "I wouldn't want to be too sick to go see the Sex Pistols, or whoever...."
"Can't have that, can we, luv?" Spike opened the ice cream. "Think your mum would want some?"
Buffy shook her head vigorously. "I just looked in on her- she's fast asleep."
He grinned at her, spooned up a little of the ice cream, and held it out temptingly. "Best thing for her, really."
She opened her luscious pink mouth and swallowed obediently. "As good as ice cream?"
He considered. "Yes. But probably NOT as good as a nice bath."
Buffy giggled. "I know those baths made ME feel a lot better!"
Carefully he put down the ice cream, and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly. The kiss was long and deep, the sweetest either had ever known.
When at last he broke the kiss, he smiled down at her, noting her flushed face, her excited eyes.
"You know, luv...I'm not convinced you're completely over this sodding flu! You seem a bit...hot. Definitely. "
He nodded thoughtfully.
"I think a bath is what's needed..."
End Send feedback