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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you for sticking with this story.
This chapter is a Spuffy bonding one, but in an odd kind of surreal way.
I hope you read it and enjoy.
spuf
REDEMPTION


Chapter 14: ‘Fevered’


Summary: Buffy is fevered from her accident. Riley will step in and offer his help to Spike and Buffy. Will Spike allow his fellow outlaw to come to their aid?



“The fever, Rupert,” Angel Crawford mumbled guiltily to his uncle, “it’s awful bad.” Angel glanced at Spike with concern. His blond cousin held Buffy Summers’ golden head in his lap and stroked her head so lovingly. This sight made Angel feel like real shit for the harsh words he had spewed earlier.

“Riley says that if we don’t do something soon, to break the high fever? She’ll be worse then dead,” Angel muttered with regret. The large, dark-haired outlaw felt somewhat responsible for poor Buffy’s present illness. If he just hadn’t of said those angry words, back at the boulder where Spike and Graham were fighting? Maybe, Buffy wouldn’t of run off and gotten hurt so bad.

“Oh, God, Princess,” Spike murmured tenderly as he continued to stroke her face gently. “Please, please be okay baby.”

“Little Hank’s birthday,” Buffy muttered confused from her fever. “It’s his party today. I have to roast the sweet potatoes, it’s my job,” she whimpered in her delirium.

‘I wonder if it’s really the boy’s birthday?’ Spike asked himself for the third time in an hour. Buffy had been mumbling about her brother’s birthday and parties for hours now. Again, Spike felt the sting of guilt and remorse at having dragged the love of his life into this mess they were in.

“William,” Rupert Giles called to his only son, “come here. Angel has some things to talk to you about. I’ll watch over Buffy for a bit, son,” he added with a sympathetic nod.

Spike reluctantly eased Buffy’s head down onto the makeshift pillow that he’d placed there earlier. He stumbled over to Angel and Riley, even as his father took his place at Buffy’s head.

“Miss Summers needs help, Spike,” Riley grunted matter-of-factly. “Her fever’s got her in a bad way and if we don’t break it? Well…” the tall dark haired man shrugged and looked away from the blond outlaw, unable to face the fear in Spike’s eyes.

“What the fuck do you propose we do, Finn?” Spike snarled in frustration, his blue eyes never left Buffy’s sweet face.

“I’ve got herbs,” Riley offered evenly, “strong ones. They’ve treated my mother’s people for hundreds of years and…”

“Peyote?” Spike snorted in disbelief. “You’re going to make my Buffy smoke the devil’s weed?”

“Well she can hardly smoke it, now can she?” Riley replied gruffly. “I’d make up a drink, kind of, from boiled peyote and cactus milk. I don’t get the white man,” he sneered, “the Indian has had this elixir forever and yet you don’t accept it. Peyote is the Earth Spirit’s gift to the man creation. It can clear the mind and open a window to the soul. The girl ‘is’ your soulmate, Spike,” Riley nodded at Buffy, who still mumbled incoherently. “Help her,” the part Shawnee Indian ordered roughly.

“I…” Spike choked, unable to continue as Buffy muttered something about Caleb Montgomery.

“Mama,” Buffy mumbled dryly, “my wedding is in a few months and I’ve ruined my dress. It’s all torn and dirty. Caleb, he’ll be so disappointed in me and…”

“It’s the fever,” Riley explained, honestly, to Spike. “She’s burning up with it and only the peyote might help.”

“Do it,” Spike rasped desperately. “Do what you have to do to bring my Buffy back to me.” His heart began to race and Spike felt like crying, manly or not, in front of these rough men.


Buffy was dreaming, that was for sure and she welcomed the sweet visions with open arms. There was an ocean and even in her dream-like state, Buffy could tell that the deep blue water went on for infinity. She wore a beautiful gossamer dress, all white and silver that flowed about her like a breeze.

Cool, damp sand squeezed up between Buffy’s bare toes as she skipped along the beach with two small children in hand. There was a blond girl, about three or so, who clasped Buffy’s right hand, tightly. The boy, maybe five or so, he clutched onto her left hand and squealed, along with his sister, so it seemed.

“Daddy!” The two children screamed loudly at Buffy’s curly haired William, who waded into the blue waves. “It’s our turn,” the girl and boy yelped in glee. “You promised, Daddy! We get to play in the waves with you!”

“You’re right.” Buffy heard William chuckle warmly, “it is your turn to play in the waves. Have your Mum bring you to the water’s edge. I’ll hold you both on my shoulders. I promise not to let the ocean knock you down, poppets. Daddy’ll take care of you both, just like I do your mum and…”


“Go away,” Riley ordered Spike and Rupert, gruffly. “Send Xander and Gunn over here,” he continued with authority. “The girl doesn’t need you seein’ her, anymore like this. Go on,” he urged the frantic, lovesick Spike. “I’ll make sure she’s okay, I swear it,” Riley finished with a self-assured nod.

“Riley, I…” Spike stammered, even as his father grabbed him and pulled him away from Riley and Angel.

“She’ll be okay,” Riley grunted as he turned to the campfire and began to mix up something in the pot that hung there. Angel slipped off from his friend and went to retrieve Xander and Gunn to help Riley.

Spike sat on a rock, a big one, smoking a cigarette and trying to keep from crying like a bloody schoolboy. Angel flopped down next to his cousin and lit up his own smoke.

“Riley will make it better, I swear to God, Spike he will,” Angel mumbled.

“He has to,” Spike replied in a shaky voice, “I love her, Buffy I mean. She has to be okay.” He felt like a fucking shit, Spike did, about Buffy, bringing her out here in the wilds and taking her away from the safety of her family.

“She cares for you, you know?” Angel muttered as he stared up at the black night sky. “I can tell, Spike. Buffy loves you, even if she’s a bit gun shy and all. Can’t blame her really. Can you?”

“No,” Spike sighed deeply, taking a long drag from his smoke. “I’m a real shit for dragging her along in all this.” He hung his head in shame, and fear, as to what was going on in the clearing just yards away from them.

“Yeah, you are a real piece of shit for dragging the little skirt along, ain’t you, Spike?” Graham had slipped over to the two cousins and now smirked at the blond outlaw.

“So you gonna let the heathen doctor your so called soulmate? Let him pour poison down her sweet little throat and…”

“I”ll fucking tear your head off!” Spike roared before Angel could pull his cousin back from Graham. Spike stood, captured by his own cousin’s stronger arms and glared at Graham with hate in his eyes.

“Riley has more spiritual faith and goodness in his dick then you have in your whole worthless hide, Graham! I swear to God, Graham,” Angel growled with menace, “if you don’t shut your fucking mouth? I’ll put a bullet through your thick head myself!”

“Whatever you say,” Graham spat as he sauntered off from the cousins.

Spike stared, nervously, towards the clearing that Riley had taken Buffy to. He wondered if he had truly made the right decision for the love of his life.

“If it was me?” Angel muttered, drawing on his own cigarette, “and my Darla was in danger and all? I’d do this in a heartbeat, Spike. I’d let Riley do what he has to; what you’re lettin’ him do.”

“If the peyote don’t help Buffy, Angel? I’m takin’ her straight to St. George. They’ll have some kind of a doctor there, I’m sure. You all go on without us and I’ll…”

“They’ll turn you right over to the posse,” Angel scowled at his cousin’s words. “They might hang you themselves, in St. George if…”

“Don’t give a fuck!” Spike growled, cutting off his cousin’s warning. “Buffy’s gotta’ get better, Angel. I can’t live without her. Not ever again.”

Angel eyed his sad, blue-eyed cousin with sympathy; he’d meant what he’d said earlier. If it was his own beloved wife, Darla? Angel would let Riley try and help her in a heartbeat.

“Riley’ll fix it, Spike,” Angel reached over and patted the smaller blond man’s back with his right hand. “He’ll make Buffy all better, I’m sure of it,” he finished with a slight smile. The dark haired man wondered if he was truly trying to convince Spike or himself?

“Thanks,” Spike grunted. Even though he still wasn’t sure of just what it was Riley was going to do for Buffy? He had a feeling it was the only course of action he could take right now.


“Xander, get some cool water, on a clean rag and keep running it on Miss Summers’ forehead,” Riley ordered his best friend evenly. “Gunn, I’m gonna’ need you to hold Miss Summers arms down, about her. When I try and give her the elixir and all. The little one there,” Riley nodded at Buffy, “she’s tiny but I’m bettin’ she’s strong as an ox. Can’t have her knockin’ the potion out of my hands, now, can I?”

“Will it really work,” Xander asked anxiously as he eyed the pot that Riley worked over.

“Remember when you were a boy and near died from that killer fever?” Riley inquired of Xander without even looking at him; he just continued to stir the hot potion in the boiling pot.

“Barely,” Xander grunted in reply. “Only remember bein’ sick as hell,” he finished with a frown.

“Well, my mother, “she treated you with peyote and some other herbs,” Riley continued. “Your mother and mine broke your fever with this and you turned out okay, right? At least I think you turned out okay,” Riley smirked slightly.


“Will, where are you?” Buffy screamed in delirium. “Where are you, William? The children, I can’t find them and we need you!” She cried desperately, sending Spike running to her. Rupert followed right behind his son.

Spike crashed into the clearing and pushed Xander aside, taking the cool rag in his own sure hands. “I’m here, Princess,” he rasped, terrified by his love’s rantings; trying to use the cold water to cool her fevered brow.

“I’m having Gunn hold her arms,” Riley began to explain matter-of-factly. “Your soulmate is a tough little thing, Spike,” he continued as he dipped a brass cup into the pot and scooped out the hot liquid. “You hold your girl’s head, gently, Gunn holds her down; I’ll have to have both hands free. I need to feed her the medicine and hold her mouth open. She’s not going to like the taste, that’s for sure,” he finished quickly.

“Oh, God, Riley,” Spike groaned as he gazed down at Buffy’s ashen colored face. “She’s burnin’ up, man. Isn’t there anything else we can do?” He finished with a plea to Riley, his blue eyes wide with gut wrenching fear.

“When was the last time you prayed,” Riley asked with a shrug of his massive shoulders. He lifted the now warm elixir up to the girl’s pale lips.

“Don’t remember,” Spike mumbled under his breath. He suddenly felt remiss at not talking to God for a while and hoped the old man upstairs would listen to him now.

“Try to remember how to, then,” Riley ordered gently, “some prayer sure as hell wouldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t hurt any of us, really.”

“Now,” Riley nodded at Gunn to hold Buffy’s arms and at Spike to secure her head. Which the blond did, as tenderly as possible.

“Come on little one,” Riley murmured to the delirious young woman, “You drink this up and make your William proud of you.”

“Tastes bad,” Buffy whimpered, trying to spit the nasty stuff from her mouth.

“I know, honey,” Riley mumbled sympathetically, “but it’s going to bring you back to us. Please, please drink it, like a good girl.”

Spike watched as Riley forced the God awful looking elixir into his love’s lush little mouth and down her throat. Buffy tried to shake her head away; tried to knock the cup from Riley’s huge hand. Gunn held firm, as did Spike, but it killed him to see the look of horror in Buffy’s half-closed eyes.

‘She’s hotter then hell,’ he repeated to himself. ‘If this doesn’t work? She’ll be…’

Riley finally got Buffy to drink the whole cup of evil tasting medicine. The usually stoic, quiet young man actually grinned when the tiny woman swallowed the last drop.

“There now,” Riley grunted. “We’ll need to watch her, for the next couple of hours. If this is gonna’ work, she should fall off to sleep. The rambling won’t stop though,” he warned Spike. “She’ll ramble on and on; in fact, it’ll get worse before it gets better. Don’t put much stock in what she babbles,” he added in a knowing voice. “It’s just fever babble, nothing more.”

“When will we know?” Spike asked in a shaky, tear-filled voice. “When the fever’s broke and she’s better?” He tried hard not to let the tears of fright slip down his face.

“Like I said. Miss Summers will fall into sleep; the rambling won’t stop, necessarily. If the medicine took? In a couple of hours, her fever will break and she’ll sweat a lot. That’s the sign,” he continued with a self-assured nod. “The sweatin’ is a sure sign that the fever’s broke and she’ll be okay again.”


‘Meanwhile, back at the Summers’ farm’


“I wish Buffy was here,” little Hank Summers whimpered in his childish voice. “Nobody roasts my birthday yams like Buffy,” he finished, wistfully.

“I know baby,” Joyce sighed, “and she would be here, if she could be, but…” The mother looked out over the wide plain of her family farm. She fought the urge to cry, especially in front of her only son. Especially on this day, of all days; his birthday.

“Do you think Daddy will bring Buffy home safe, Mama?” Hank asked suddenly, his blue eyes wide with trepidation.

“I do,” Joyce replied quickly, trying more to convince herself then anything. “But, Hank,” she stammered, trying to find the right words. “Never mind,” she sighed again, deciding that it was best not to voice her insecurities and worries about Buffy, or her own husband. Especially when the poor boy looked as if he was about to break down and cry.


“Buffy,” Spike murmured, lovingly, “please come back to me, Princess. I need you so much and love you even more then that. Please be okay and I promise, I’ll…” He couldn’t finish, just choked on the tears he tried to fight and stroked Buffy’s hot face, tenderly.

“William,” Buffy breathed more then spoke his name.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispered. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, ever. I’ll never leave you, Princess, never,” he promised, hoping that she could hear and understand him.

“The horses, Will. They’ve broken from the barn and little Will’s gone to catch them. Go find our son, please William. I’m frightened and…” Buffy muttered on, but Spike could barely understand her as her voice was so weak with fever.

Spike ran some cool water down Buffy’s pale face and neck, careful not to press the rag onto her sensitive flesh too roughly. He was beginning to think that St. George might be his only option now. Suddenly, Buffy began to flail about, in his strong arms as she cried out in apparent pain:

“It hurts, Will! It hurts worse then anything I’ve known! Please, come back to me. Don’t send me away or leave me! I need you, love you…”

As fast as the rambling began, it ended and Spike glanced up at Riley who stood over the couple, a scowl on his large, handsome face.

“It should break, soon. The fever,” Finn nodded at Spike. “She’s going to be fine, Giles,” he grunted. “The girl will need some rest, but she’s tough, like you. She’ll come ‘round soon, now. I feel it.”

As if Buffy heard Riley’s words and thought to obey them, Spike felt his love clasp his left hand with hers. The next thing he heard was Buffy’s desperate scream of terror as her body thrashed about again.

“William!” Buffy repeated her desperate cry, then Spike felt her body go limp. His heart nearly stopped; he was that afraid of looking at her beautiful face, fearing the pain he might find there.

When he got the courage to actually look at Buffy, he found that her forehead and cheeks were drenched in sweat. Getting up his nerve, Spike attentively felt her forehead first, then her right cheek and was overjoyed to find that they were now cool again.

“It’s broke,” Spike gasped in near disbelief. “Buffy’s fever, Riley, it’s broke! Just like you said!” At the moment, Spike could not have cared less that he finally broke down and began to cry tears of joy and relief.

“Yeah,” Riley mumbled in response, as if he himself didn’t quite believe it. “Let’s go,” the big man motioned to Xander and Gunn who both followed Riley away from Spike and Buffy.

“Oh, Buffy,” Spike sobbed, “I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you so much and…”

“Will?” Buffy whispered as she half opened her beautiful green eyes. “You’re here,” she sighed dreamily, a small smile on her lovely lips.

“Of course I am,” Spike murmured, wiping the tears from his eyes quickly. ‘Won’t do any good to have Buffy see how close she came to…’ he could not finish the awful thought, even.

“I knew that my bad Buffy voice was wrong,” she whispered in a scratchy weak voice. “She said you didn’t love me, that you’d leave me alone and…”

“Never!” Spike replied strongly, stroking her cheek gently. “I love you and I will never, never leave you. It’ll take God, Satan or the both of them to drive us apart, Buffy. Do you understand?”


“I do,” Buffy chuckled weakly. “It’s a good thing, too,” she yawned widely. “I love you and I’d hate to have to hunt you down and drag you back with me. Will?”

“Yes,” Spike murmured as he placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I’m really tired,” she yawned again, her pink tongue and mouth reminding Spike of a little soft kitten. “Can I go to sleep now? With you here?”

“Absolutely,” Spike choked out. “I’ll be right here, baby. When you wake up.”


A/N: I hope this chapter is okay. I didn’t want to make it too sappy and yet I wanted it emotional. This is the turning point for Buffy and Spike. Do you suppose that Buffy’s ‘dreams’ might just be prophetic???

Thank you for reading and please review, spufette.



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