Buffy woke up with a small gasp, her mate’s tongue doing deliciously naughty things to her body. Spike nipped her clit and Buffy’s hips surged off the bed.

“What was that, pet?” an amused, cocky voice asked. Buffy looked down, her heart jumping when he gave her that boyish smirk. His hair was tousled, and he looked so sinfully innocent resting between her thighs.

“I want you.” Her words couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a command. Her arousal increased when he growled lowly, the vibrations moving though her, his blue eyes tinged with amber. He crawled up her body, intent obvious in his body, a promise in his eyes.

***

“Buffy, stop fidgeting,” Joyce commanded off handedly. Jason threw a bowl on the ground a grinned maniacally, his blue eyes twinkling. Joyce smiled fondly at her mischievous son. He’d have his father’s charm that was sure. With a small laugh, Joyce picked up the offending piece of dinner ware.

“I don’t like waiting,” Buffy pouted, folding her hands across her chest.

“God, you and Spike boink like bunnies on Viagra. You’re so pregnant!” Dawn exclaimed, fishing some ice cream out of the fridge. Buffy stuck her tongue out at her little sister’s back while Joyce pointedly ignored her feuding daughters. There were some things about her eldest she just was not ready to discuss openly.

“Joyce I…oh, Buffy. You’re here. I take it last night’s clean up was not too…distasteful?” Giles asked. Buffy glared at her watcher, imaging a perfectly thrown stake nailing him to the wall so she could slowly flay all the skin off his body.

“It was GREAT. Just SUPER. Much more ENJOYABLE than what we WERE doing.” Giles reached up to take off his glasses, realized he was already cleaning said glasses, paused, and then thought sod it, my Slayer daughter is talking about having sex with her vampire mate I damn well have a right to clean my bloody glasses. Dawn snickered, Joyce pleasantly ignored the continued implications of the conversation, and Jason threw his fork to the ground with a happy gurgle.

Buffy was pulled out of her sulk when a wave of sickness washed through the claim. She doubled over, clutching her stomach.

“I have to go, something’s wrong with Spike!” Everyone was looking at her with concern.

“A-are you sure?” Giles asked, replacing his thoroughly cleaned glasses.

“He—“ Buffy doubled over again, her vision blurry and head spinning. A wave of intense heat made her feel like her body was on fire. Joyce took stock of the situation and marshaled her troops.

“Giles, feed Jason and make sure Dawn does her homework. I’m going to drive Buffy back to her apartment to check on Spike.”

***

Spike was curled on the bed feeling like death warmed over a giant bonfire. His stomach was not a happy camper; he felt nauseous and his skin was hot, two sensations he was no longer accustomed to…unless he was buried inside Buffy’s warm depth. Another wave of nausea flooded him and he ratcheted. Another thing he wasn’t used to: the thought of his beautiful mate making him sick. His stomach rolled rebelliously and he moaned pitifully. This would be much, much easier if he actually had something to throw up.

“Spike!” Buffy’s voice was his only solace amidst the pain. He couldn’t speak, only grunt around the intense pain holding his body hostage. This sucked. “Oh God, Spike!” Buffy’s hands were all over him, feeling his head. He leaned into her touch, her hands cool and soothing. Cool? When was Buffy cool to him?

“Mom, he’s burning up! He’s got body heat! He shouldn’t have body heat! What can we do? He-he-he-he—“

“Buffy, calm down.” Joyce’s cool hands caressed his heated skin. “I want you to go soak a couple of towels and bring them here.” Buffy nodded, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of Spike. “Buffy, go.” With Joyce’s prodding, Buffy was up in a flash, disappearing into the bathroom. Keeping her hands on Spike so she could monitor his temperature, Joyce reached for the bedside phone and dialed a familiar number.

“Tara? I need you to get over to Buffy’s apartment immediately. Spike’s sick.”

***

Willow glanced up at the stairs as she placed her sixth plate of cookies on the table beside the others. Tara had rushed over after receiving a call from Joyce…that had been this morning. Eventually, all of the Scoobies had ended up at Spike and Buffy’s apartment, including Christopher and Jason. Anya was cooing over the children, and Xander was marshalling the take out. But there hadn’t been much of an update from upstairs for a couple of hours.

“You think he’ll be OK?” Dawn’s tremulous voice asked. Willow gave the young girl what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“He’ll be fine. I mean, how many times has Buffy tried to kill him? She way scarier than some silly flu.” Dawn didn’t look at all convinced, but before she could ask Willow any more questions, footsteps echoing down the stairs had everyone on their feet. An exhausted looking Tara came down first, followed by Joyce who was supporting her strained looking daughter.

“Xander, would you get something for Buffy and Tara to eat?” Joyce asked sternly, her look explicitly stating that there would be no inundation of questions. Xander nodded solemnly and started piling Chinese food on a plate. With a kiss for her eldest, Joyce disappeared back upstairs to watch over Spike with Giles.

“Is…is he OK?” Dawn asked. Buffy sighed and opened her arms, wrapping her little sister in a tight hug.

“It’s better.”

“What happened?” Willow asked with wide eyes.

“I don’t know,” Tara mumbled, rubbing her bleary eyes. She’d spent the day doing healing spell after healing spell, but none of them worked for long. All she really had was Buffy’s reassurance that it (whatever it was) was getting better. “Giles and I…we think whatever the Warlock hit him with last night is causing this.”

“But didn’t Buffy get hit too?” Xander asked, placing two full plates in front of the exhausted women.

“Can’t figure that one out. Maybe it’s because I’m not dead.” Buffy unenthusiastically shoveled some food in her mouth.

“I just hope it didn’t hurt the baby,” Anya said with a smile. Buffy froze, her hand half way to her mouth, her eyes wide. Her chin began trembling, and her eyes watered. Dawn’s eyes widened. Oh no. Of all the things for Anya to say…

“Buffy…” A single, fat tear leaked out of watery emerald eyes. “Buffy!” A rib-cracking sob wracked the slayer’s frame. And that was it. Buffy started crying in earnest, her emotions finally catching up with her and compounded by her newly realized fear that her maybe-non-existent baby had been hurt.

“No no no, Buffy, I’m sure it will be fine!” Willow rushed over to try and calm her friend down. She gently rocked Buffy back and forth, whispering reassurances and trying everything she knew to get her friend to calm down.

That’s how Giles found them, huddled around a nearly hysterical Buffy who had used the past five minutes to convince herself that her as-of-yet unconfirmed baby and mate were near death. Anya had ushered the children out of the room, Xander was hovering around the women looking totally helpless.

“Buffy?” he ventured, cringing when his voice came out as a half-hearted whisper. “Ahem…BUFFY!” That, perhaps, was a bit too forceful. But at least Buffy was looking (glaring) at him (along with the rest of the room.)

“Spike’s awake and would like to see you.” He felt a brief breeze a caught a blur of blond as Buffy vaulted up the stairs.

***

Buffy saw the last of her friends out the door and closed it with a weary sigh. Spike’s body temperature was still higher than normal, but at least he was coherent and he’d managed to get and keep some blood down. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and cuddle with her mate and have everything perfect in the morning.

She stopped in the doorway and smiled. He was curled on the bed with Maverick, the skinny little Persian kitten they’d liberated from a poker game when Buffy couldn’t bear to see the slightly crazy but absolutely adorable kitten eaten. Spike had grumbled the whole way home, dropping the creature in the kitchen before stomping noisily up stairs. But he’d been a goner when the kitten had let out a pitiful mewl. They’d turned around to see him with his front paws on the first step, stretched to his full height, staring at them with large green eyes that begged them not to leave him downstairs. Before she knew what had happen, Spike swooped down and cradled the tiny creature in his arms, a purr reverberating through his chest and into the content cat who responded with a purr of his own. They’d been fairly inseparable since. It wasn’t uncommon for Buffy to get home and find her two boys on the couch, Maverick perched on Spike’s chest, rumbling away.

Buffy smiled at the picture and slipped in behind Spike, molding her body against his back. She felt a deep rumble of contentment start in his chest and smiled. She squirmed a bit, caught between the need to be close to her sick love and the increased warmth of the bed; Spike’s body was still generating its own heat, and it felt a little odd after sleeping with a heat-absorbing body for so long. But he’d be alright by the morning. He had to be.