Fever
“So I think it’s best we avoid each other. I’m pullin’ out of the patrol for a while. This just won’t work any more. I can’t handle the pain.”
“But Spike…”
“Bye Buffy.”
Xander carried Buffy through the Summers’ front door. She was unconscious, her forehead beaded with sweat. Anya followed them.
“Ohmygod, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” Dawn followed them up the stairs to Buffy’s room, where Xander carefully laid her on her bed.
“It was a Xantar demon,” said Anya. “See where it scratched her hand? Very toxic, very nasty.” Xander stared at her, always amazed at her wealth of demonic information. “Well, it’s not like I ever dated one.”
“Is she…?” Dawn asked, stricken.
“She’ll be fine. It’s just a little scratch. She’ll have a high fever for a day, and she’ll probably babble a bit, but it’s sort of like the flu. Just give her fluids and keep her covered.”
“Ah,” said Xander, “My little Doctor Kildemon.”
Anya went to Buffy’s dresser and pulled out a nightgown, handing it to Dawn. “You should probably make her comfortable. I’ll help.” Xander stood watching, until Anya pushed him out the door.
“What about the Xantax thing?” Dawn asked, removing her sister’s clothing.
“My Beady Eyes hit it over the head with a big stick,” Anya replied proudly. “They have very thin skulls.”
“And she’ll be okay?” Dawn brushed a hair from Buffy’s forehead. “She’s burning up.”
“She’ll be fine. Trust me. Someone should stay with her, though. I’ll go get her some water.” Anya left the room and Dawn sat on the bed beside her sister.
“I wish she really was a doctor,” Dawn said, taking her sister’s fevered hand. “This is scary.”
“How’s she doing?” Xander asked.
“I don’t know,” Dawn replied. “She said something about going to the ice show with Dad. I guess cause she’s so hot.”
Anya brought a cool cloth from the washroom and replaced the one already on her forehead. “Give it a little time to work through her system. And don’t forget, she’s the Slayer. She heals fast.”
Buffy grasped Xander’s hand. “Giles, Giles, you came home. I’m so glad. The chickens are attacking. Get Dawn to the festival.” She dropped his hand and lay still.
“Now that was freaky,” Xander said. “I wish Willow wasn’t at that computer conference. Are you sure we shouldn’t call a doctor, sweetie? Not that I don’t trust your diagnosis.”
“There is nothing they could do. We wait. She’ll be fine when her fever spikes.”
“Spike?” asked Buffy. “Where’s Spike? I want Spike. I love Spike.”
“Wow,” said Xander, “she really is delirious.”
“Maybe she’s mixing up her vampires,” Anya added. “Maybe she means Angel.”
“Angel is lame. I want my Spike. Bleached baby, baby…” she drifted off.
“She wants Spike,” Dawn said forcefully. “Xander, go get Spike.”
Xander hadn’t seen Spike in days. He wasn’t at the crypt. He searched the cemetery for telltale smoke, but nothing. Including, to his relief, any other vampires. Spike wasn’t at Willie’s, either. Xander realized that, although he had known the vampire for years, he really didn’t know all his haunts. Maybe he wasn’t even in town. At a loss, he headed into the Bronze for a quick beer, before continuing the search. “I’m going through a lot of work for the rants of a sick girl who probably couldn’t care less about peroxide boy.”
He picked up his cup from the bartender and turned to see Spike standing with a cue next to the pool table. “Two quid says red ball in the side pocket.” A high school student was nervously pulling bills from his wallet.
“Spike,” called Xander, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Can’t it wait, Harris? I’m havin’ a game with this fine young lad.” He patted the boy on the back, who cringed.
“Buffy’s really sick,” Xander said.
“Right,” Spike replied, putting the cue on the side of the table and following Xander out the door.
Spike looked down at Buffy, his face a mixture of fear and compassion. “Were the demon’s claws red or orange?” he asked.
“I didn’t see. Why?” Anya seemed confused.
“Because if they were red, it was in heat, and its venom is deadly, you stupid bint.” He saw the expression on Dawn’s face. “I’m sure she’ll be okay, Bit. Can I have a little time alone?”
Dawn rose from the chair beside her sister’s bed so that Spike could sit. She hustled the others out of the room, to Xander’s protest. “He just wants a little time with her. Give them space.”
Spike took Buffy’s hand and placed it to his lips. “I always said you were hot, love.” His face melted with concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the times I hit you, I’m sorry for the things I’ve said, and I don’t care if you ever apologize to me, or want to see me again, just get better. I can’t lose you again. Neither can Dawn.”
“Spike has washboard abs. He shouldn’t gel his hair back,” Buffy moaned.
“What, pet?”
“I love Spike.” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Don’t tell him. It’s my secret. He smells like leather.”
Spike caressed her forehead, tears in his eyes. “He loves you too, Slayer. He wants you to get well.”
Buffy screamed, “The cheeseman cometh!” and closed her eyes. She lay quietly.
The others burst into the room. “What did you do to her?” Xander asked angrily.
Anya felt Buffy’s forehead. “Her fever broke. She’s asleep. She should be okay now.”
Buffy sat propped up in her bed, eating a bowl of lime sherbet. “I really thought Giles was here?” she asked her assembled friends.
“I wish he was,” Dawn answered. “I think I’d like to go to a festival.”
“Well, if you’re okay, I’d best be goin’,” Spike said, heading out the door.
“No, wait,” said Buffy. “Can we have a minute alone, guys?”
The others trouped out. “I think I’ll get a bowl of the sherbet. Looks good.” said Xander.
Buffy looked up at Spike. “I wanted to thank you for coming. I know we’ve said some things, some pretty awful things. Well, I’ve said some pretty awful things. But when I needed you, you were there for me. Thank you.”
“I guess you don’t remember anything you said, you know, with your fever,” said Spike.
“It’s pretty fuzzy. Like a bad dream. You lose the details when you wake up.” She took a mouthful of the sherbet.
“Well then. Glad I could be here for you. I’ll be runnin’ along.” He turned to leave.
“I do remember a few things. You shouldn’t gel your hair.” She saw the look of hope in his eyes. “And it’s okay if you tell Spike I love him. I think the secret’s out.” She reached her hand to him, and he threw his arms around her. The bowl dropped to the floor. No one cared.