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Chapter 7

Buffy liked freesias, but she also really loved lilies of the valley, they'd been her mother's favorite. She liked pale pink and dark chocolate together, but there was something appealing about red and black too. She wondered if Spike would like to see her in white, or in black leather. She'd made the list of bridesmaids - Dawn, Willow and Anya, she also figured she could talk Spike into allowing Xander as a groomsman, Giles or Clem would likely serve as best man. Inviting her father had a big question mark next to it. Spike had never even met the elusive Hank Summers, neither had Dawn for that matter. A secret, darker spot inside the Slayer wanted her father very much to meet her vampire husband to be, let the two of them bond over blood and beers. Let Spike tell her dear, abandoning father just what he and his Victorian morals thought of Hank's lack of financial and emotional support over the years. The thought did Buffy a little good, one of her ears popped and for 30 seconds she was in heaven before the cold clogged it up again. Damn.

After another flurry of sneezes and a dizzy spell, Buffy put down her list. Dawn had fallen asleep on the couch and again Buffy was alone, and the gnawing feeling in her gut that wasn't part of the cold returned. If Spike were home there'd be nothing to worry about. When she and her vamp were in the same space, everything was hearts and roses. When he wasn't, she felt unhinged. It wasn't always this way, but ever since the events back in the early part of the year, there was this little voice in the back of her head, along with a television and instant replay of his killing against his will, his torture, his chip malfunctions, the thing with Principal Wood. He was strong, and brave and beautiful and the truth of it was she was so terrified of losing him that it was becoming a problem.

She sighed, resigned to the fact that until she and Spike were under the same roof tonight, she couldn't rest.

***

"Scarab? Up your nose?" Spike nodded and Harmony made a disgusted face."Can I just say ick!!"

"Not like I had a bloody choice in the matter, Harm, I was already knee deep in it. No way I could've gotten out of there except to fight to the last. But I'd never have given up, I wanted my soul, for Buffy."

"Can't say I think she deserves it, Bitchy the Vampire Layer."

"Hey now, show a little respect, she is the one with the stake and my soon to be wedded wife!" Harmony simply rolled her eyes.

"You should've just gone to Ed."

"Well I didn't bloody know about Edouard the Quickener! Did I?? I'd only heard of this bloke in Africa, not some git in Paris who runs a chic salon who just also happens to have the uncanny ability to capture a vampire's human soul from the ether and infuse it back in his body! All for a nominal fee of a hundred quid!"

"Wasn't like it was a big secret either, Spikey."

"I know that now...but then, when I made the decision and what I went through in Africa, it was right. I deserved every moment of torment I've gotten since then." He was becoming pensive now, remembering."Now, in hindsight, it was worth every second of pain. The Slayer trusts me, the Slayer loves me and we're making a life together. It's brilliant." Harmony smirked, somewhat annoyed.

"So you're really happy with her?" Spike smiled inwardly and Harmony nearly gagged at watching a wellspring of fondness to the petite menace overcome him.

"Every moment with her is bliss, she is the greatest..."

"Spike, she's a bitch."

"She is indeed, and I love it."

"She still beating you up?" He shook his head, then smiled again,"What?"

"Sometimes...we have this little game you see, I'm a bad bad vampire and she's got to spank my..." He stopped short, Harmony arched her eyebrow and he suddenly realized what a complete idiot he was to be telling bedroom secrets that Buffy would stake him for revealing."Right, um...I ought to get going, it's nearly sun up and my lady's a bit under the weather and...." Harmony stood in front of him, hands behind her back.

"Meet me for a drink tomorrow? There's a nice place downtown, Savio's, we can talk some more." Spike hesitated. Harmony rolled her eyes. "Buffy can come."

"Al..alright...about 8 o'clock?"

"Sounds puuurrfect."

***

Buffy blew her nose one last time, then stuffed the tissue in her coat pocket with all the others. She felt like death warmed up and wondered if this was what it was like to be a zombie. She pulled her collar up high and pushed the hair off her her sweaty face before grabbing a stake and walking outside. The night air was a cooling balm on her fevered skin, but she was swaying, every step an effort. She knew in her head that she shouldn't have gotten out of bed, but the pangs of worry over Spike's where abouts had her more than just on edge. It was almost dawn and he should've been back beside her hours ago.

She made it half way across the yard before she felt faint. When she came to her nose was pressed against something soft on the outside, but hard on the inside. Chest of Spike. Too bad she was too sick to appreciate the fact. With her bundled up in his arms for the second time that night, he carried her up the stairs, mumbling to himself,"Stupid bloody bint! Stupid girl thinks she can go on a bleedin' patrol, can't even stand upright..."

"Went looking for you," she grumbled.

"Buffy? Oh sweet love, you're lucky I came home when I did, found you splayed out on the lawn. You're burning up, got half a mind to take you into the ER."

"No hospitals."

"Then bloody well stay in bed before I thump you one. You're vulnerable, any beastie could come along and...just do as I ask for once, please?"

"I missed you, sun's almost up. Dusty fiances, bad."

"Missing me is not a good enough reason for going out when you're hardly strong enough to hold a stake let alone defend yourself with it. I'm nearly 150, I know when the sun's about to rise. I was all but home." She shivered against him, slipping out of consciousness. He stopped being angry with her. It had been coming from his own sense of worry.

Upstairs he helped her take off her clothes and change into a pair of flannel pajamas. After laying her in their bed, he undid the first two buttons of her shirt, while Buffy mindlessly batted his hands away, scrunching her face up in protest. He left her only for a moment, but returned with a balm of menthol which he gently rubbed into her chest and throat, hoping it would loosen up her bronchi a little. When he was done, he buttoned her up again and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her breathing was still labored and ragged and he knew her fever had gone up. He'd never been around her when she'd been sick, never been around any human. He wasn't sure if this was normal. Nothing about this seemed normal, seeing his girl weak and half delirious with fever. There was a pang inside that could've been mistaken in his dead body for a heart beat. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead, cringing at how overly hot her skin was. "Sleep well, love, I'll take the best care of you."





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