Chapter Three
“Fever”
“Where’s Buffy?” Spike finished putting his new wad of cash away in his duster pocket before answering the Watcher.
“She decided to change last minute. She’ll be a bit.” Lies. Buffy had changed alright, just not her clothes. On the trek over they had got stopped by a demon that had poked fun at the slayer turned vampire. Not smart. Her anger had caused her to vamp out while slamming the creature into the ground. She claimed that she couldn’t be seen by her friends and family with ‘a case of the bumpies.’ Spike had tried making it obvious to the girl that if she didn’t learn to accept her demon and live with it, she was never going to be able to control it.
“Since I’m paying you for this interview, here is a list of topics that I would like for you to touch on if possible.” Question after question on the print out had the word ‘death.’
“Word of advice, Rupert, you may want to avoid the big ‘D’ word with Buffy if you want her to remain cooperative.”
“B getting touchy in her unlife?” Faith asked, making her way to the dining room table to place herself between them. Spike liked her. Sassy and curvy with a brilliant motto, “Want, take, have.”
“I’ll take that into consideration. I just assumed she’d learned to live with it by now. In that case, I’d like to get started with you then, before Buffy arrives.” The man set about readying everything on the table.
Spike took this time to try and feel if Buffy was nearing them yet. When he was satisfied that she wasn’t, he motioned for Giles to start.
The date was announced and the questions began.
“When the arrow’s poison took effect, Buffy could have, without a doubt, been declared dead. Correct?”
“Right.”
“Did you stop to check for a pulse?”
Spike quirked a brow at Rupert and bit the inside of his cheek. “No need. I would have heard the tick tock of her heart, would have smelled life and not death.”
“How did you handle her death?”
“I was bloody cross that-“
“No, I meant…” Rupert took off his glasses and wiped them with a cloth. “Dear Lord, I meant did you do anything to her body?”
Faith and Spike’s eyes widened at the same time.
“Giles, you dog!” Faith exclaimed.
His cheeks now flame red, the watcher shook his head. “Anything that could have caused her condition.”
“You know as well as I, that had Buffy honestly thought for even a second that I was behind this, I would have been dust.”
Faith remained relaxed in her seat and plucked a piece of invisible fuzz off of her tank top. “To be fair, gorgeous, you’ve said that vampires typically feel loyalty to their sires, even if it isn’t returned.” Spike glowered at her. She may not have said Dru’s name, but it was implied.
“I may be the closest thing she has got to a sire, but I didn’t turn her. She shouldn’t feel any loyalty to me.” In fact, on more than one occasion she told him that she didn’t feel anything towards him, but Spike kept that to himself.
“I know. Slayer can’t even be a normal vampire, right?” Nobody had heard Buffy enter the house, nor had they seen her standing in the doorway. “I’ve gone from being the freak ‘Chosen One’, to the lone sire-less vampire.”
Spike was almost certain she was upset that they were talking about her when she wasn’t present, but she couldn’t hide the mirth in her eyes. He was convinced there wasn’t anything in the world that could compare to how Buffy looked when she was happy. She had let her hair down from the tight ponytail it was in when they left and it was now resting on her shoulders in slight waves.
“That was a quick change, love.” Spike noted.
He had only been alone here for about ten minutes and he was sure he’d have longer than that since her transition from demon to human visage could take upwards of fifteen on a good day. “Must say, I don’t notice much of a difference in your outfit though.” Her eyes narrowed at him but she sunk into the chair next to Spike anyway.
“I can’t see it in the mirror but I think this one looks better.”
“Both are equally attractive. I just don’t see you wearing the other one all that often.”
As the bickering carried on, it became obvious to Faith that they were not talking about clothes. She glanced over at Giles who had taken to cleaning his glasses again and who then retreated to the kitchen.
Alone with the two vampires she didn’t say anything. Instead she got comfortable and enjoyed the show. She would never admit it, but she was jealous. To some people, Buffy could do no wrong. She managed to die twice, but her watcher still regarded her as the best around. She occasionally bit people and they called it an identity crisis. Faith’s favorite, however, was that she killed a slayer. A no-nonsense slayer that was called here to the Sunnydale hellmouth and Buffy had killed her. Yet, they only sat around and said they couldn’t imagine the anguish she must go through when she thinks of it. The anguish she’ll have when her soul gets restored rather. Then, on top of that, she has Spike. Treats him like dirt when she gets too close, but he’s hers anyway. Faith knew better than to question it, so she kept quiet.
“As interesting as Buffy’s wardrobe may be, could we please get back to the issue at hand? May I remind you, this interview is not for my pleasure, nor is it solely for the purpose of informing future slayers, but it is important as it may lead to the discovery of how to cure you.” Giles’ tired voice stopped Buffy from continuing the argument and she settled back in her chair letting her leg brush against Spike’s.
“Onward then, yeah?”
“Yes, onward.”
***
Slayer blood. He was sure they all could smell it. Every last one of the dolts had made their way past the door at least once since he’d locked himself in here with the dead slayer.
Even when she was dead, Spike expected a smart remark from her. He could almost hear her laughing at him, ‘What’s the matter Spike? Cat got your fangs?” He took a moment from his pacing to kick the bed he had placed her on. He had meant to bring her to the room he shared with Dru, but she was cuddled up on the bed next to some demon she had more than likely kept ‘company’ until early on in the day. The cheap bed frame squeaked and slid at an angle away from him. The movement jostled the slayer’s head to the side and revealed her creamy neck. She had faint bite marks on one side. He had heard about The Master drinking from her neck, then drowning her. Spike sneered at the insult and found himself moving towards her, hand outstretched to run his finger over the marks.
What was with these nitwits and their lousy treatment of a Slayer? They deserved to be fought until the bitter end, given a death worthy of a fighter; not this getting shot with an arrow and drowning rubbish.
A slight tap on the door followed by, “Spike?” sent him reeling across the room. What did he care about her less than heroic death? Point was he was in possession of her dead body and the slayer blood that went with it. Now to find out if he could drink it.
Spike opened the door long enough for Dalton to slip through before closing it again.
“What happened to her?” He asked the bookish vampire.
“She… she died?” Dalton glanced quickly at Buffy, then quickly back to Spike’s impatient gaze.
“I know that you muppet! Question is, how?” Spike pressed.
“The arrow killed her, I’d assume.” Dalton was as uncomfortable as possible. It was never a good thing to be called into Spike’s presence. Heck, it was never a good idea to be around him at all. His temper was known to get many vampires dusted. Judging by the twitch in his jaw, Spike was angry.
“She’s a slayer! A single arrow to the shoulder is not going to take her down.”
“So it was poisoned? With what? If you kept the arrow I could run some tests in our high tech laboratory. Oh wait, we don’t have one.” Dalton instantly regretted growing a spine at this time and took a step back. Spike’s eyes stayed trained on him and he panicked. “I-“
“I should kill you for that but we all know that you’re the only one out of these incompetent fools that could actually be of some use to me. So… good on you, ‘bout time you grew a pair.” Before Dalton’s smile could fully form on his face Spike wiped it away. “Don’t do it again.”
“Were there any symptoms?”
“Symptoms? She got shot, she bled, she ran full speed ahead until she just stopped as if paralyzed. I’d love to say that I scared the livin’ daylight out of her, but we can both see that just wasn’t it. I don’t really care to know the how’s and why’s she died, just want to know whether she’s safe to drink or not.”
Dalton’s eyes drifted to Buffy’s neck at the same time Spike’s did and they both sat in silence pondering the question. Sure, her blood wasn’t as appetizing now as it would have been while still hot and actively pulsing through her veins, but it was still slayer blood.
“Due to the lack of facilities at our disposal, I believe there is only one way to know for sure. Shall I recommend someone other than myself for a taste test?” Dalton asked hopefully. The crowd outside of the door had thinned, but just speaking the words ‘taste test’ had the vampires within earshot practically salivating.
Spike grabbed the first one he could reach and locked shut the door once more.
“You, what’s your name?” he asked.
With short brown hair and eager puppy dog eyes he reminded Spike of his good for nothing grandsire. He would have no qualms over potentially sacrificing this one.
“John.”
“Well, John Boy, be a trooper and take a swig.” A flash of doubt in the boy’s eyes caused Spike to give him a rough shove towards the body.
Without further hesitation, John’s face shifted and he snarled as he bent over her. Fangs a mere inch from her neck, he noted the potential outcomes. He could get a mouthful of blood or he could get a mouthful of poison that would most likely kill him again. Dying wasn’t so bad the first time, so he continued with a grin, but his fangs never touched her. Instead, he barely registered green eyes giving him a look that could chill the devil and two hands on his head that twisted until his neck cracked.
“You couldn’t even check to see if I was dead?” Buffy quipped as she stood and dusted herself off.
“You said she was dead!” Dalton cried out. “You said she was dead!” He quickly backed away to the door and slipped out. Spike stayed put and observed her.
“What? You were going to let that peon drink me? Almighty Slayer of Slayers!”
“Quite the sight, pet. For a dead girl at least.”
“Going to try and tell me I’m dead? Please! Could a dead girl do this?” Buffy flung herself across the room and landed a kick to Spike’s side that knocked him to his knees.
“Maybe not dead, but undead, yeah.”
“Undead. As in vampire?” Her disbelief mocked him. “I’m still warm to the touch, and look ma! No fangs!” Buffy crooked two fingers into the corners of her mouth showing Spike her teeth.
He climbed back to his feet and stood inches away from her. She had to look up to make eye contact with him so she never saw his fist heading straight for her mouth. The force of the punch made Buffy’s head turn to the side and she growled. It was the sound that stopped her in her tracks before she could retaliate.
Hands flew up to her face and she felt that the once smooth expanse of her forehead was now covered in puffy ridges. A swiped of her tongue across the back of her teeth made her cry out when a fang nicked her.
“Really? ‘Cos I was just taking a shot in the dark there.”
Rage took over and Buffy pushed Spike backward. “What did you do?” A shove took place for each word she said until, finally, Spike grabbed her wrists.
“I didn’t do a bleedin’ thing! Now, I suggest you stop trying to toss me around like a rag doll before I fight back.” Buffy shook her hands out of his grasp and felt her neck. No new bite marks.
He gave a chuckle, watching as Buffy tried to suss things out. Her guess was as good as his as to how this happened, but he was trying to find a bright spot in this mess.
Buffy’s confusion quickly switched back to anger when he laughed.
Attack! Rip his throat out! The anger in her scared her a bit. She had never felt anything this strong.
For a moment Spike was rooted in place overwhelmed by the power seeping out of such a small person. He didn’t have much time to be dazed as she started throwing punches.
***
“We get it. You guys fought and you fought, blah. It’s really not any different now. What I don’t get is why Buffy doesn’t register on my vamp radar? Or, how about, why she isn’t all juiced up with demon strength on top of her slayer power? Inquiring minds want to know.” Faith interjected.
Everyone sat around in silence, each for their own reasons. Giles was wondering why the thought had never occurred to him. Spike was thankful to whatever higher powers hadn’t given her that extra power. And Buffy was just plain distracted by other things.
“Let’s mark this one as another anomaly.” Giles said as he wrote down Faith’s questions. “How did your fight end? We don’t need a play by play of the events, but only things you deem vital.”
“I got hot.” Buffy mumbled, staring at her hands, palm up on the table. There was a fine sheen of sweat on each palm. “It didn’t start out slowly either. I was just so used to breaking out in a sweat when fighting it didn’t strike me as odd at first. Then it just became unbearable.”
***
“Slayer?”
Spike hadn’t so much as thrown a punch when Buffy staggered back, wobbly on her feet. Nor did he stay behind when she made a break for the door. She wound her way through the halls of the factory, plowing through anyone in her path. When she got outside, she stripped off her jacket and began fanning herself.
“It’s so hot. I’m so freaking hot!” she whined. Buffy felt like she was on fire. She was sweating bullets, even though the night air was cool. Buffy had never been really sick when she was little, but she new it was a fever. One hell of a fever. “I don’t get sick, vampires don’t get sick.” She rambled.
Spike couldn’t do anything but stand back and watch. The way she was acting reminded him vaguely of Dru when she got lost in her own world. The things coming out of her mouth didn’t entirely make sense to him. He watched as the Slayer tried shaking her clothing around her, letting air in. He could see her top sticking to her body with sweat and it caused him to harden at the sight. When the sweat got thicker her clothes began to cling tighter and he could see her debating whether or not to remove her clothes completely.
He could take her out, right now. It would be so easy to beat her now. Her fever was keeping her so frenzied, her reaction time would be slow. A stake through her heart, it would kill her vampire or not. Dru would be pleased that he’d managed to kill the Slayer, and then maybe she would stop sneaking out for her late night rendezvous’. Everything in him shouted to kill her and take out his biggest threat. So, when she asked for his help, he was surprised that he gave it.
“Blood.”
Buffy stopped wiping her sweat off her head long enough to look at him and try to figure out if he was serious.
“This is what you feel when you get hungry?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. O’ course not. But blood is generally the cure for any vampire ailment. Slayer blood is the good ol’ cure-all but… it seems you’re fresh out of luck with that one. I guess it’s time for you to pick your poison, Slayer. Human or animal?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Let me start by thanking Asya for betaing this and the previous chapters! I think that with her suggestions things are a bit more clear. I posted the revised chapters so if you feel something wasn't right in the past, you could check them and it might help : )
Chapter End Notes:
I hope you enjoyed! Please don't forget to feed the muse!