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Author's Chapter Notes:
So sorry for the lack of updates. I've had family in and until the holidays are over, things are going to be a little crazy :-) I'm so grateful to everyone who's still reading/reviewing!!
Chapter 10 – Feverish Feelings


Buffy rolled over in her bed, trying to keep from shivering as she snuggled deeper into the thick down comforter. In spite of the warmth that seeped through the room, she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering, trying to get her trembling body under control.

Opening her eyes after a moment, she tried to focus on something in the room, hating that her vision was blurry and distorted. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered, breathing deeply.

It had been a full day and a half since she’d last talked to Spike. He hadn’t called since, but knowing that he was carefully closing off his emotions to her so that she wouldn’t know much about what he and her father were doing, Buffy didn’t expect him to realize how sick she was.

The tears started again without warning. She’d woken up that morning feeling weakened and disoriented. Assuming that she’d somehow gotten the flu, she had decided to stay in bed. Then the tears had started.

Great, sobbing, heart-wrenching tears. She had no idea where they came from or why her body felt the need to release so much anguish, but she found that she couldn’t stop the tears, even when she tried.

At times, an almost delusional feeling would come over her, sending her into mild panics that had her clawing at the bed sheets.

She went from rage to depression in a matter of moments.

Buffy knew she was feverish – she wasn’t sure of her exact temperature, but she told herself not to worry about it. She was immortal, after all – how much harm could a little thing like the flu do to her?

Getting a rare moment of clarity where she felt nothing – no heat, no cold, no anger, no sadness – Buffy slowly sat up in bed. Her first thought was to call Spike, but she quickly dismissed the idea. He would call her soon enough and there was no need to worry him about her being sick.

If she could only get to the hotel, she knew she would feel better. Cordelia was there, as well as Wesley and Fred – she wouldn’t be alone.

Slowly pushing herself out of bed, she pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to control the wave of nausea that coursed through her at the sudden movement. Groaning at the weakening feelings that were coursing through her, she took a deep breath, hoping that she would be able to make it to the hotel.

Carefully dressing in her favorite pair of jeans, a tank top, and a warm sweater over it – hoping to take care of her hot and cold chills, depending on which one she had – Buffy slowly made her way out of the room, walking toward the stairs. Gripping the banister, she managed to slowly work her way down the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth, trying to curb the sickening feeling that coursed through her.

Opening the front door, she grabbed a stake and tucked it into her jeans, closing her eyes when the soothing evening air hit her face.

“Just get to the Hyperion,” she told herself, feeling a little better now that she wasn’t confined to the house but hoping that she arrived at the hotel a little faster than she normally would on foot.

Wishful thinking.

Over two hours later, Buffy frequently had to stop to rest, hating that a simple slow walk could wind her when she was used to much more strenuous tasks. Ridiculing herself for not bringing money for a cab.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The cocky tone combined with the predator she sensed almost could’ve convinced Buffy that Spike was back and teasing her the way he usually did when he found her somewhere he didn’t expect her to be.

But this voice didn’t have the accent or the familiarity of the man she loved.

Slowly turning around, Buffy clenched her jaw when she saw the vampire behind her, moderately relieved when she felt the adrenaline automatically course through her body, causing her to nearly sag in relief that she might be able to defend herself.

Out of reflex, her first reaction was to grab the stake out of her waistband and taunt the vampire in front of her. But knowing that her reactions would be slower, her muscles weaker due to her lack of food and rest, Buffy knew that she would have to try a different tactic with this one. If she was to whip out her stake at this point, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was swiftly knocked out of her hand.

“You have a girl who wants to go home,” she retorted, pretending to play the part of the helpless female, knowing that he wouldn’t be expecting her to know what he truly was, simply thinking that she’d stumbled across a man in a darkened alley.

“No, I don’t think I’ll let you do that.”

Buffy watched as the man continued to walk toward her, shivering when she let him get closer to her than normal, hoping her reflexes were fast enough to get the stake into his heart without him realizing what she was doing. She gasped when she felt her arms grabbed in a vice-like grip, inwardly kicking himself for letting him get that close.

Instinctively knowing when his face shifted, Buffy cried out, struggling in his arms, her weakened body making her feel more vulnerable than she’d felt in years.

“N-no!” she cried, her heartbeat skyrocketing when she felt the fangs at her jugular, her mouth opening in a silent scream at the slicing feeling.

Struggling to breathe when she felt herself shoved away, her hand quickly covered the puncture wounds on her neck. She felt rejuvenated, stronger. Seeing the shocked look on the vampire’s face, she nearly rolled her eyes, wondering how he could’ve missed the scars that layered the skin of her throat before sinking his teeth in.

Obviously he knew that she’d been claimed by a vampire much stronger than he was, and Buffy reveled in the terrified look on his face. “Yeah,” she said with a smile, finally reaching for her stake, twirling it between her fingers. “You really should be more careful and check over your food before you sink your teeth in.”

Not bothering to listen to whatever response might have come out of his mouth, Buffy threw the stake, sending it rotating through the air before landing squarely in the heart of the vampire. Watching with a smug look as he exploded into dust a few moments later, she closed her eyes, feeling the blood slipping through her fingertips, continuing on to trickle down her neck.

Buffy felt chilled at the knowledge that her fever was gone. Her body was as strong as it had always been. Looking behind her as if she could turn away from the obvious answers to her unasked questions, Buffy closed her eyes.

The fever, the cold chills, the hot flashes, the trembling – everything that could’ve been attributed to the fact that she had the flu. But there was one little problem. In twenty years, she’d never had the flu. Never had a cold, never had a fever – never been sick.

Her hand never moved from her throat as she touched the source of relief from her pain earlier. The bite that had been inflicted on her – the bite that she hadn’t wanted, hadn’t asked for – had automatically restored her health, seemingly healing her from her earlier pain. A solitary tear slipped down her cheek at the realization.

She hadn’t been sick. She’d been having withdrawal symptoms.

Her whispered word seemed to carry through the alley as she stared disbelievingly at an unfocused place on the ground. “Fuck.”







Thanks so much to: spuffette, sue, Franchesca, Brittany, Olivia-luv, Whitelighter354, PhotographyNut, Pam S, Stephanie, kim, Cordykitten, shelly, BuffyandSpikeForever, brunettepet, jennybean, Crystal Pegasus, Chelsea & Mockerfab4 for reviewing!





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