Title: Even Slayers Need TLC Sometimes
Prompt: fever
Medium: Fic
Rating: PG13
Summary - Season Five - Probably never happened, but it could have!

Even Slayers Need TLC Sometimes

"Where is she?"

Dawn shrugged. "I guess she's getting dressed..." She frowned and bit her lip. "She'll kill me for telling you this, but..."

"But what?"

"She's sick. She's been running a fever all day and the only reason she can stand up right now is because she took half a bottle of aspirin."

Spike stared up the stairs and shook his head. "Alright, Bit. Tell her I'll take patrol and she's to go back to bed."

"Too late," Dawn muttered as Buffy came down the stairs, gripping the railing as casually as she could manage.

"Spike," she said dully, grabbing her jacket off a chair. "What a surprise."

"Told you yesterday I'd watch Dawn for you, didn't I? Did you think I wouldn't remember?"

Buffy sighed and shook her head. "No. I forgot about it. I'm sorry, Spike."

Forgetting what Dawn had told him, he placed his hand on her forehead. "Whoa! An apology from the Slayer. Are you feeling all right, pet?" He grinned until his much cooler hand registered the heat coming off her head. "Bloody hell! You are sick!"

Buffy batted his hand away. "It's just a little bug. I'll be fine. I took aspirin."

"Why don't you stay home? Let me handle patrol for you tonight." When she opened her mouth to object, he added softly, "Please, Buffy? You can go back to being stubborn when you're feeling better."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, even as she swayed on her feet. "As soon as the aspirin kicks in...." He caught her before she could fall and steered her to the couch.

"You'll be dead before you meet the first evil-doer," he growled. "And no way are you facing down that hell-bitch in this condition."

"Don't tell me what to do," she muttered, sinking onto the couch anyway. "You're not the boss of me."

"No one knows that better than I, luv," he said, winking at Dawn. "But I don't think you're quite up to your usual Spike smack down right now, so I'm taking my chances."

Buffy blinked bleary eyes at him. "Smartass," she muttered, surrendering completely. "Just cruise the cemeteries for fledges. Don't go looking for Glory. Got it?"

"Got it, General Buffy, sir." He gave her a mock salute and glanced at Dawn. "You'll take care of her?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nurse Dawn, that's me. But if I think she's ODing on the aspirin, I'm calling 911."

He frowned, not having taken Dawn seriously when she said Buffy had taken half a bottle of aspirin. "You don't think..."

"Nah. I was kidding about the half-bottle. She needs more than regular people, 'cause Slayer healing works against it. Giles explained it a long time ago when she got real sick. She can fight off almost anything, but her body goes after it so hard that it makes her sicker than a regular person would be. And it fights the meds at the same time."

"I'm a regular person," Buffy whimpered, holding her head. "A regular person who needs an icepack..."

"Coming up, invalid," Dawn smirked, waving at Spike as he went out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Spike returned, having dusted only a few fledglings and killed one of Glory's minions, he found Buffy asleep on the couch. The steady heartbeat from upstairs told him Dawn was asleep. He watched Buffy for several minutes, frowning at the way she tossed and turned in her discomfort. Retrieving the bag of melted ice from the floor, he took it to the kitchen, dumped the water into the sink and refilled the bag.

He carried it back into the living room to find Buffy sitting up and staring around wildly.

"Spike? What happened? What's going on? Was Glory here?" She tried to rise, but fell back immediately. "What's wrong? Why am I so weak? I have to—"

"Easy there, pet," he soothed, sitting beside her and placing the ice bag on her head. "You're alright, jus' a bit disoriented from the fever."

He watched her trying to remember where she was. "Why are you here?"

"Patrolled for you. Just enough to keep the numbers down. Then came back to make sure you and the Bit were alright."

"Why do you take care of us?" The question caught him by surprise, but when he opened his mouth to respond, she had already forgotten about it and was semi-conscious against the pillows.

"Okay, luv, don't be stakin' me for this tomorrow," he muttered, picking her up and holding her hot body in his lap for a second before rising to his feet. "Let's get you into bed, yeah?"

He carried her effortlessly, moving up the stairs without making a sound. He pushed open the door to her room and carried her directly to the bed, depositing her gently and shaking his head at the heat he could feel radiating from her. While he was removing the jacket she'd put on earlier, as well as her shoes and socks, she began to moan and toss around again, shivering with a sudden chill.

Spike frowned and glanced around for more blankets. After tucking Buffy into bed, he grabbed a folded quilt and added it to the pile, watching helplessly as she continued to shiver. When it looked like she was about to shake herself off the bed, he kicked off his boots and threw himself down beside her, wrapping her shaking body in his arms and hanging on as best he could.

Murmuring soothing nonsense in her ear, he held her while she shivered and shook, wishing he had some body heat to share. He loosened his grip when she finally stopped shivering, only to find himself being tossed aside when she began throwing off the blankets and moaning. Clearly once again suffering from the heat of her fever, Buffy tore at her clothing and was soon down to her underwear.

Spike bit his lip and stared at her, not sure if she expected him to leave or not. She seemed to be awake, but her eyes were unfocused and she barely acknowledged his presence.

"Hot," she muttered, tossing around on the bed. "Too hot."

Risking an errant kick, he grabbed the ice pack from the floor and tried to hold it against her forehead.

"Easy, luv," he said, holding her with one hand and pressing the ice bag against her head with the other.

"Cool," she cooed, petting his hand where it rested against her bare arm. "You're cool."

"Could be, if you want, Buffy. Could get into the shower and stand under the cold water until I'm chilled down." He waited, holding his breath while she seemed to think over his offer.

"You've got to keep your underwear on," she said finally.

"Don't wear underwear, luv, but I'll see what I can do." He dashed into the bathroom, shedding his coat and shirt as he went. He debated for a few seconds, then dropped his jeans on the floor and grabbed a towel. After several minutes of standing under the cold water, he wrapped the wet towel around his waist and went back to the bed.

"Gonna get your bed wet, Buffy," he pointed out, but the look she gave him said that was the least of her worries. "Right, then. Here we go." He lowered himself down beside her, only to be yanked over on top of her heated body. She gave a contented sigh as his cooled body pressed into hers.

"Mmmmmmm. Feels good..." Buffy murmured into his neck, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. Spike tried to think of something other than the powerful body under his as she wriggled around making sounds of relief and pleasure. He bit his tongue, tried to picture Giles naked, imagined being gang raped by Glory's scabby minions. Between those images, and the fact that he was lying on a very sick woman – one he genuinely cared about – he managed not to get anything between them but the wet towel covering his pelvis.

Buffy gradually stopped moving and her breathing evened out. He risked a quick glance at her face and saw that she had fallen into a restful sleep. When he felt his body warming up to match hers, he sighed and moved off, being careful to disturb her as little as possible. When he was sure she was sleeping soundly and that her temperature was approaching normal, he forced himself to move away from her and off the bed. He gently covered her with the sheet and light blanket, folding the quilt and bedspread across the bottom of the bed in case she needed them again.

He was standing there, basking in the feeling of being in her room and having been invited into her bed, when he realized that her eyes were half-open and her breathing had changed.

"You dropped your towel," she whispered, a small smile twisting her chapped lips.

"Sorry, pet," he apologized quickly, snatching the errant towel from the floor and holding it in front of him. "I'll go get dressed now." Forgetting that turning around would expose his naked ass to her gaze, he whirled and ran to the bathroom, frowning at the small snicker that followed him from the room. He dried off with a new towel and pulled on his jeans, then realized that everything else was still back in Buffy's room.

He tiptoed back and sighed with relief when he saw that her eyes were closed again. Picking up his shirt, he pulled it over his head and sat down to put his boots on.

"Are you leaving?" There was just enough of a whine in Buffy's voice for him to tell she was feeling better.

"Thought I should. You're doing better, yeah? Can I get you anything before I go? Water, maybe?"

Buffy licked her dry, cracked lips. "Water would be good." She waved her hand toward her dressing table. "And somewhere over there is some lip balm. Would you get it for me?"

He stood up, rummaged through her makeup until he found what she was asking for and tried to hand it to her. She had barely raised her arm before it fell back to the bed and she blinked apologetic eyes at him. "Could you..."

"If this gets back to anybody at Willy's..." he grumbled as he carefully smoothed the balm over her lips, unable to resist using his thumb to caress her lower lip as he did so.

"I won't tell, Big Bad. Your reputation is safe with me."

He snorted. "Nothing I've got is safe around you, Slayer. Already know that." He stood up. "I'll get you that water and then be on my way."

He was back quickly, an opened bottle of water in one hand, and an extra one in the other. "Here you go, luv. Drink up. I suspect you're pretty dehydrated from that furnace imitation you had going on." When she didn't reach for the bottle, he remembered her inability to hold the lip balm and sighed. Sitting beside her, he propped her up with one arm and held the opened bottle with the other. He tipped it up and watched as she swallowed rapidly. She drank almost the entire bottle before pausing to take a breath.

"Better, pet?"

She nodded silently and shut her eyes again, leaning against him heavily.

"Don't leave," she mumbled, sliding down until her head was once again on the pillow and her breathing evened out again. With a sigh, he moved to the chair, knocking the clothes on it to the floor, and stretched out his legs, ready to spend what was left of the night watching over the girl who had gone from the bane of his existence to the reason for it. As dawn neared, his own eyes drifted shut and he was soon sleeping like the dead man he was.

The rustle of fabric brought him back to life and he cracked one eye. Buffy was busy draping towels and sheets over the windows, frowning anxiously at the stray sunbeams that made their way around the edges. Only the circles under her eyes gave away how sick she'd been only a few hours before.

"Leave it, pet," he said, pulling himself upright. "I'll move to somewhere safer."

"It's safe here," she insisted. "The sun only comes in the windows in the early morning. As soon as it moves up higher, it won't be shining in and you can move to the bed."

"Come again?" He gawked at her, his mouth hanging open comically.

Buffy looked embarrassed, but took a deep breath and continued. "You... you took good care of me last night. I remember most of it – in a 'I wonder if this is real or a dream' kind of way. I want..." She looked away and mumbled, "Iwanttotakecareofyou."

He was silent for some time, studying her flushed face. Finally: "You know I'm in love with you, right?"

"That's not what this— Look, I just want you to get some sleep in a comfortable, safe place. Don't make a big deal..."

He glided to his feet and crossed the room, avoiding the lone remaining ray of sun.

"If you put me in that bed, let me sleep in your room all day.... It is a big deal, Buffy. To me it is. Won't let you pretend it isn't."

She stamped her foot. "Why not? Why can't you just take my offer and not... not talk about it?"

He leaned forward and kissed her gently, holding it long enough to remind her of what a good kisser she knew him to be, but not long enough for it to feel demanding. When he broke away, he met her confused eyes with a small smile.

"Alright, luv. Thank you."

Without another word, he took off his shirt and unzipped his pants, hesitating when she didn't move. "Uh, Buffy? You want me to sleep in my clothes?"

"Wha–? No. No, do whatever makes you comfortable. I'll just..." She began edging towards the door, never taking her eyes off his bare chest and abdomen. When she had left the room and closed the door behind her, he grinned and dropped his pants, stepping out of them and hanging them on the chair with his shirt. Just as he was lowering himself into the bed that smelled so much like Buffy, the door opened and she stuck her head in.

"I've already seen it all, anyway," she said, giggling when he turned an astonished face toward her. "Night, Spike!" The door shut again and he heard her footfalls going down the stairs. Shaking his head and grinning, he settled his head on Buffy's pillow and prepared to have one of the best sleeps of his life.