“Giles, tell me again why I’m here instead of at home watching a good movie? I mean, this is the first evening of my holiday and you’ve got me researching fungus demons!”

Buffy was sitting back in a chair balanced on its back legs with her feet propped on the round table. On her lap was a large tome that looked like it was held together by dust and good fortune. She didn’t usually mind these little research sessions at the Magic Box but tonight was a little different, as she was the only Scooby in attendance; Willow and Tara were off on a Wiccan retreat, to find their ‘inner witch’; Anya and Xander had booked a cottage for the weekend (Buffy had blocked out anything Anya had said after the mention of “many orgasms”); and Spike hadn’t been seen since the ‘snot patrol’ incident.

Strangely enough, Buffy had come to accept the bleached vampire as one of the Scoobies--actually, they’d all accepted it much easier than he himself had. Even Xander no longer flinched at the involvement of ‘Deadboy Junior’ in Scooby plans.

Buffy shook out of her thoughts and noticed that Giles had been speaking to her.

“Well?” He looked at her expectantly.

She blinked at him. “Well what?”

“Buffy, did you hear a word of what I just said?”

She let out a little laugh that she hoped would mean ‘Of course, I did’, but he just kept staring at her with a look of skepticism. Under his gaze, her face fell and she offered him a pout.

“Sorry, Giles--I was in my own little world--you know, the one where I don’t know about the existence of fungus demons...” She was interrupted by a slamming door followed by a string of curses “... or annoying blonde vampires.”

Spike stormed into the store, duster swirling behind him; he glared at Buffy and Giles.

“Where are the witches? What did you get them to do to me?”

Giles took a step back and Buffy took her feet off the table, setting her chair down so all four legs were firmly on the ground. They hadn’t seen Spike this angry since he’d been chipped.

“Um.” Giles cleared his throat. “Spike, I’m sure we’ve no idea as to what you mean. Now, if you can calm down...”

Buffy didn’t even see the vampire move until he had her watcher by the throat.

“I. Will. Not. Calm. Down. You will tell me what’s wrong with me, and you’ll undo whatever spell Red and Glinda cursed me with. Or I will kill you.”

That was the last straw. Buffy forcibly pulled the vamp off Giles and threw him into a chair.

“Ok, I’m kinda getting sick of this.” She leaned in and looked him in the eye. “Sit down and tell us what’s going on, or I will personally make sure you get to see your next sunrise real soon.”

It was at that moment that Buffy noticed just how bad the vampire looked. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days: his skin was even more gaunt than what was natural for a vampire, he had dark circles under his eyes and he was in a cold sweat.

She brought her hand to the vampire’s forehead and felt that it was...warm? She furrowed her brow and just stared at him.

Spike shifted uncomfortably under the feel of her hand, not used to having her touch him softly.

Buffy noticed his unease and pulled her hand back as if burned. What was she doing? Why was she touching him? She sounded out of breath. “You’re... all clammy.”

Spike sneered. “Yeah, Slayer, and that’s not all. This little trick of yours has got me runnin’ hot and cold, and worse yet I haven’t been able to keep any food down.”

He began to sound nervous, “How am I supposed to be the Big Bad if I keep passing out every time I get myself worked up?” At this, the vampire fell into a sneezing fit.

“Argh!!” He roared in frustration and swept his arm over the table, sending books flying in every direction.

Ever so helpful, even towards the vampire that just moments ago had threatened his life, Giles offered Spike a tissue. It was this act that jogged the slayer’s memory. As recognition dawned, she began to laugh.

Spike stared at her dumbfounded. “Bloody hell! I’m happy you can see the humour in my misery! Care to share what you find funny with this?”

Buffy took her seat, grinning, and looked at Spike.

“Remember when we were out patrolling a few nights ago, when you had to borrow a tissue off me? Do you think that has anything to do with your...condition?”

Then it hit him. The source of the past few days’ pain and misery was one stupid fledgeling who dared sneeze on him, just before bursting into a cloud of dust. Spike groaned and slid further onto his chair, throwing his arm over his eyes in a move worthy of an Oscar nomination.

Giles could no longer contain his curiosity. “Would someone be good enough to explain to me what this is all about? Buffy, did something happen the other night when you and Spike were patrolling--something that you should have mentioned before now?”

Buffy gave him a pleading look.

“Honestly, Giles--I really didn’t think it was important.” Spike snorted at this. Buffy frowned at his interjection and continued. “Long story short, Spike got sneezed on by a vampire, just before he dusted it. He had, uh, snot, on his coat, and he asked me for a tissue to wipe it off. It didn’t really phase me, although, come to think of it I don’t think I’ve ever seen a vampire sneeze before.”

Spike’s reply was curt. “That’s because it doesn’t happen, you stupid bint. Sneezing is a human thing.” Sometimes he couldn’t come to grips with just how daft the Slayer could be; if she was the good guys’ beacon of hope, they were in serious trouble.

Giles stood, wiped his glasses for the umpteenth time that evening and spoke up. “Well, from what I’ve observed, I’m afraid that this has nothing to do with a spell, Spike. I’m sorry to let you down but I’d say your symptoms point to--how shall I say this--the flu.”

“What?” Spike and the Slayer both stared agape at the Watcher.

“Well, um, if you think of it, Spike was exposed to the virus when he was...sneezed on, and he’s certainly exhibiting symptoms of the flu: general aches and pains, hot and cold flashes, trouble keeping food down...if he weren’t a vampire it would have been obvious, but since he’s not human, it just didn’t naturally come to mind.”

“Oh, I don’t bloody believe this.” Spike rested his forehead on the table and let out an audible groan. “First Dru leaves me, then I get chipped, now this. Why don’t I just get a soul while I’m at it? I could go to LA and help Peaches out in his quest to help mankind.”

Buffy was enjoying every moment of this. Seeing Spike so unceremoniously tossed off his ‘I’m a vampire, so I’m higher up on the food chain’ pedestal was a sight to behold. She calmly made her way towards him and put her hand on his shoulder in a display of mock affection.

“Don’t worry Spike, we’ll send you some chicken soup.” She paused, then added, just to get his goat. “We’ll even have Angel come by to nurse you back to health.”

Spike stiffened at Buffy’s mention of his grandsire; the last thing he needed just now was giving that poofter the satisfaction of seeing him in this condition. He’d never live it down. Then his face brightened, as some not-so-long-ago promise clawed its way back to the forefront of his conscience.

He looked at Buffy with a leer.

“No, not Angel, pet. I seem to recall you saying something the other night, when all of this started. Something to the effect of ‘if you do get sick, I will personally be your nurse and take care of you’ (this he said in a mocking, effeminate voice). Well, I’m sick--and I expect you to keep your promise.”

Buffy gasped. “I... I never said that!”

She turned to Giles, who simply stared at her with an odd look on his face; she could swear he almost looked amused. Spike just peered at her through tired lids. Maybe if she stalled long enough, he’d just fall asleep and she could leave him there.

“Well, maybe I did, but how was I supposed to know he’d be sick? Vampires don’t get sick, it’s unheard of!” Her voice rose an octave higher as she panicked at the thought of having to lower herself to nursing the sick vampire back to health; she knew he would milk it for all it was worth.

Giles cleared his throat and made a move to save her--or so she thought.

“Actually, Buffy, there are records of vampires becoming ill--it’s not entirely unheard of at all. The strains of viruses are different than the ones that attack the human immune system, but vampires are susceptible to them nonetheless.”

Buffy couldn’t believe it; she squeaked. “Giles, you’re supposed to help me--not make things worse!”

The Watcher’s lips twitched at the corners, and he offered his Slayer a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take back promises that you make in the heat of the moment. You’re an adult and you’re expected to bear the responsibility of your actions and your words. This is something that you and Spike will have to work out for yourselves.”

He’d always known that her impetuousness would come back to bite her, but he’d never imagined that it would involve Spike, of all people. Buffy continually complained that no one treated her like an adult--this was to be her initiation into the adult world, and it would be a harsh one. Of course, he couldn’t go along with this, as he had serious concerns about the vampire; perhaps this was just another of his twisted plans. However, he was chipped and seemed genuinely sick. Would he pose a risk to the Slayer if she took him in to her home?

Buffy’s shoulders dropped. Giles was right. She did say those words and now she had to live up to them.

“I’ll do it. I’ll hate every single moment of it, but I won’t go back on my word.”

“Buffy, are you sure? This is Spike--William the Bloody--that we’re talking about. He may be chipped, but he must still be considered a potential adversary.”

“Giles, I patrol with him every night. If he wanted me dead, he would have tried by now. I’ll take him home, make sure he gets over this bug or whatever it is, quickly, and boot him out so I can relax before Mom and Dawn come back.”

She turned towards the vampire, expecting him to be sitting there with an arrogant grin on his face, ready to taunt her at any moment. Instead he was out cold, face against the table. *Boy* she thought to herself *this is really the start of a fabulous weekend*.

She walked up to him and shook his shoulder, trying to wake him but the vampire made no sound. She bent lower and shouted, “Spike! Wakey wakey--time to go home!”

This time, there was a groan, but not much more.

“Giles, I am so not carrying him home. Help me wake him, please.”

Giles looked at the sleeping figure. “Well, I suppose I can give you a ride home, if you can carry him to the car. I don’t know if we’ll have any luck at waking him, honestly. He does seem deeply out of it.”

They managed to get Spike into the back seat of the car and proceeded to drive to the Summers household. Giles pulled into the driveway and gave Buffy a fatherly look. “Do be careful. I know he’s sick, but he’s still Spike. You never know what to expect. ‘Expect the unexpected’ should be your mantra.”

Buffy smiled weakly. “If that’s the case, then I should expect him to act all gentlemanly and show some manners.”

Giles smiled back at the young woman whom he loved like a daughter. “Yes, well nonetheless, please call if you need help of any kind.”

“I will, Giles. Thanks for the ride.”

She sighed, got out of the car and pulled the sleeping passenger out of the back, flinging him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. *Ugh! Never realized he was so heavy... Guess this is where the term ‘dead weight’ comes from*

Buffy managed to make it into the house without dropping him. She walked in and casually tossed him onto the couch. He lay there motionless, one leg hanging off the couch. She stared at him, despite herself.

He looked so different in sleep; how could someone so arrogant, so irritating, look so peaceful, so handsome....

*Wait--did I just think that Spike looked handsome? Oh, I must be in serious need of a good night’s sleep. He’s not handsome! He’s annoying, and he’s dangerous, and he’s... Okay, I can admit to myself that he’s handsome. I’d have to be blind not to see that. But that doesn’t mean anything! So he’s got that bad boy thing going on that seems to attract women, for some crazy reason. He’s an arrogant, dangerous, handsome vampire... with kissable lips. Argh! Where did that come from? His lips are not kissable- well, maybe...*

She shook her head and came to her senses only to find herself staring into the vampire’s eyes. The vampire’s open eyes--had he been watching her stare at him? Buffy blushed at the thought.

He leered at her. “See anything you like, luv?”

Too quickly, she replied, “No!” Then, she regained her cockiness. “Heh, you wish. I was just trying to figure out a way to make sure that you wouldn’t get sick on the couch; maybe I should move you to the cot in the basement so you don’t make too much of a mess.”

Spike gave her a worried look. “What, in my condition? It’s damp and cold down there!”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “And that’s different from your crypt in which way?”

“Well, you don’t see me there right now, do you?” He tried to make himself more comfy on the couch, propping his head on the armrest.

“As far as I’m concerned, this flu is a human affliction, therefore I should be entitled to human comforts. And anyway,” he added, as a jab to her earlier staring, “if I’m down there, you won’t be able to steal glances at my body when you think I’m sleeping.”

*Damn it, he’s right!* That little inner voice was really beginning to worry the Slayer. This vampire was her mortal enemy, the constant thorn in her side, the one who’d tried to kill her family and friends numerous times; and now she was staring at his body. *His perfect body, so sleek and hard; think of how long it’s been since you’ve been with a man...*

She stirred as she heard a groan and realized that it had come from her. All she had to do was put up with him until he was better, then get him the hell out before something incredibly stupid *incredibly earth-shattering--wouldn’t be anything less than that, would it?* happens.

“You’re going to want a pillow and a blanket, I suppose,” she said, her voice squeaking.

Spike didn’t know what to think. Why did she keep staring at him like that? It was starting to unsettle him. *Clue in, you git, she just asked you a question!*

“Uh, yeah--that would make sleeping on this couch more comfortable.” Then he realized that something was off; he furrowed his brow and asked, “So, where are Joyce and the Nibblet? You scare them off?”

The young woman sneered, “No, I did not scare them off. They’re in LA for a weekend of shopping. I was supposed to stay home and have a nice relaxing weekend of watching girly flicks and eating ice cream straight from the container. Now it seems that I’ll be stuck here with you.”

As she turned away, she mumbled, “Should’ve gone to LA; would have gotten some nice clothes, but NO, I had to stay home...”

Buffy made her way to the linen closet and pulled out a pillow and a blanket--one of those thermal ones that were light but kept you warm anyway.

When she came back to the living room she found the vampire asleep, duster tucked around him. She allowed herself a little smile and proceeded to divest him of his coat and boots. *Thank God he’s asleep or I’d never live this down.* She gently lifted his head and placed the pillow underneath. As she tucked the blanket around him, he mumbled something she couldn’t quite hear, although she swore ‘mum’ had been in there somewhere. She stepped back and glanced one last time at her guest.

As she made her way up to her bedroom, she thought to herself, *Maybe this won’t be so bad after all--maybe it’ll actually be tolerable*