Spike shot Xander an irritated look. "Let's get you out of this, first," he said, untying the thin sash and allowing the robe to fall open. "Can you take it off yourself?"
No answer, just those empty eyes locked onto Spike's.
"Right then. Guess I'm doin' that, too." Spike tugged at one sleeve. Miraculously, Xander did actually move enough to allow Spike to undress him.
Getting Xander's own robe on him was a trickier matter.
"Acting like a sodding infant," Spike mumbled, trying not to look at the shadowed ribs, the bruises, both old and new, or the new, pink skin that signaled just how much Willow's spell had healed. "Put your hand through the arm hole, boy," Spike said in a stern voice. That seemed to work, and Xander complied, actually assisting this time.
Once the robe was on, Spike hesitated. Despite the familiarity, he had no idea how to take care of the boy--mostly due to him not knowing what the hell had happened to him. They knew a group of demons had kidnapped Xander weeks ago, but not why or how or any of those important details.
"How 'bout food?" he tried. "Could make you broth or somethin'?"
Stumping over to the kitchen, Spike didn't bother trying to be quiet as he rattled through the cabinets looking for something a boy that'd been tortured and probably worse could eat. He ended up finding some dried cubes of vegetable broth, there for who knew what reason, and the directions looked simple enough.
When Spike was satisfied with the results, he set a bowl of the broth on the bar and went to get Xander.
"Come on, pet, more you walk, the faster you'll recover. Stretch those muscles out. Come on, lean on me, that's right," he said soothingly, walking Xander out to the kitchen. "You sit down, look, made you some broth. Broth's good, right?"
Xander sat on the offered stool and stared down into the bowl at the nearly clear liquid.
"Don't just look at it, boy, you need to eat. Come on, pick up the spoon," Spike coaxed. When that didn't work, he got stern.
Suddenly, Xander dropped the spoon into the almost empty bowl with a metallic clink, his eyes sliding away from Spike's face. He looked surprised, a little scared, and turned his head away like he was hiding. Spike heard a sound, like a sob or choking. But it was just barely flavored water, boy couldn't choke on that, could he? Xander repeated the sound, then vomited up broth and sour bile, retching until there was nothing.
Instinct took over. Spike held the boy while he emptied his stomach and dry heaved for a while, murmuring quiet reassurances. He didn't let go when the spasms stopped, waiting until the boy stopped panting before cautiously turning him.
Xander looked almost as bad as before. His skin was clammy and almost grey, his eyes totally dark and blank as they stared straight ahead.
"Fuck. All right, pet. Lets go get you cleaned up." There was flicker of a twitch towards the stinking mess, though Xander didn't resist when Spike helped him to his feet. "Leave it, I'll get that later."
Spike led Xander to the bathroom and sat the boy on the closed toliet seat. He ran some hot water in the sink with a bar of soap and dug around in the vanity for a washcloth. "I didn't think my cooking was that bloody bad," Spike said, wetting the cloth and wringing it out. "Maybe next time I'll just order pizza, how 'bout that?"
Xander didn't make a sound, or look away from a spot on the wall as Spike ran the cloth over his clammy face. Spike grunted. "Maybe not pizza," he continued, trying to fill up the silence. "But I could prob'ly order some soup from one of those Chinese places you like. Egg drop? Wonton? Gotta be better than something made from little flavored cubes. Reminds me, I oughta go out later. Grab some blood from the butcher's. They don't have take-out, you know. Maybe you can get some rest and I'll steal out and back 'fore you wake up."
Xander twitched at the last comment, throat working like he wanted to make a sound, but couldn't.
"Not for long, pet. Not leaving you. Slayer'd stake my ass if I did." Not that he cared one way or another about the Slayer. Removing Xander's robe, Spike decided against reclothing him. Who knew if he'd get sick again, and it wasn't like it was cold out. "Gonna go clean up the mess. You wanna sleep a bit?"
Xander leaned on Spike as he led him back to the bedroom. Spike laid him down on the bed again and pulled the covers up over his nude body. Xander whimpered as Spike pulled away.
Such a soft, fragile thing. Little lostling, too sick and hurt to know anything but 'safe' and 'not safe'.
"Just gonna clean up the kitchen," he said. "I'll. . . get the blood later." Or call Giles, maybe, since Spike now had the tightest hold over the humans he'd ever had.
No answer, just those empty eyes locked onto Spike's.
"Right then. Guess I'm doin' that, too." Spike tugged at one sleeve. Miraculously, Xander did actually move enough to allow Spike to undress him.
Getting Xander's own robe on him was a trickier matter.
"Acting like a sodding infant," Spike mumbled, trying not to look at the shadowed ribs, the bruises, both old and new, or the new, pink skin that signaled just how much Willow's spell had healed. "Put your hand through the arm hole, boy," Spike said in a stern voice. That seemed to work, and Xander complied, actually assisting this time.
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"How 'bout food?" he tried. "Could make you broth or somethin'?"
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Stumping over to the kitchen, Spike didn't bother trying to be quiet as he rattled through the cabinets looking for something a boy that'd been tortured and probably worse could eat. He ended up finding some dried cubes of vegetable broth, there for who knew what reason, and the directions looked simple enough.
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"Come on, pet, more you walk, the faster you'll recover. Stretch those muscles out. Come on, lean on me, that's right," he said soothingly, walking Xander out to the kitchen. "You sit down, look, made you some broth. Broth's good, right?"
Xander sat on the offered stool and stared down into the bowl at the nearly clear liquid.
"Don't just look at it, boy, you need to eat. Come on, pick up the spoon," Spike coaxed. When that didn't work, he got stern.
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Whether it was the direct command or the edge of anger in his voice, it still worked. Xander picked up the spoon, eyes focused on Spike.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Spike groaned. Twirling a chair around, he straddled the back. "Get a spoonful. Sip it--careful, now, could be hot."
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Spike nodded. "Again."
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Xander didn't look away or change expression, not even when Spike stopped trying to hide his irritation.
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Xander looked almost as bad as before. His skin was clammy and almost grey, his eyes totally dark and blank as they stared straight ahead.
"Fuck. All right, pet. Lets go get you cleaned up." There was flicker of a twitch towards the stinking mess, though Xander didn't resist when Spike helped him to his feet. "Leave it, I'll get that later."
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Xander didn't make a sound, or look away from a spot on the wall as Spike ran the cloth over his clammy face. Spike grunted. "Maybe not pizza," he continued, trying to fill up the silence. "But I could prob'ly order some soup from one of those Chinese places you like. Egg drop? Wonton? Gotta be better than something made from little flavored cubes. Reminds me, I oughta go out later. Grab some blood from the butcher's. They don't have take-out, you know. Maybe you can get some rest and I'll steal out and back 'fore you wake up."
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"Not for long, pet. Not leaving you. Slayer'd stake my ass if I did." Not that he cared one way or another about the Slayer. Removing Xander's robe, Spike decided against reclothing him. Who knew if he'd get sick again, and it wasn't like it was cold out. "Gonna go clean up the mess. You wanna sleep a bit?"
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"Just gonna clean up the kitchen," he said. "I'll. . . get the blood later." Or call Giles, maybe, since Spike now had the tightest hold over the humans he'd ever had.
Xander thought Spike was safe.
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