Fic update: That Good Night (6/?)
I just had an awesome fun day hanging out with soft_princess. Hooray for Writercon bringing me together with a fellow fanfic writer in my very own city!
And now: an update! Woohoo!
I want to thank yourlibrarian for not only beta-reading this part, but becoming a true co-conspirator; she's letting me bounce all sorts of ideas off her, and generally run on and on, and she's given me some pretty awesome ideas of her own!
Here's the story info:
Title: That Good Night (part 6 of ?)
Rating: Still not sure. Definitely R; may go to NC-17.
Continuity info: This is the sixth story in the Fragments 'verse, fitting in immediately after "Before the Time of Dawn." This story is set a couple years post-NFA.
Summary: Spike is human and he's having problems. Meanwhile, Willow has just had a baby; Xander and Spike have traveled to Sao Paulo to see her, and so has Buffy.
Warnings: My posting schedule will probably continue to be erratic! If that's going to frustrate you hugely, you should probably wait until it's complete. Also, it's going to be dark. Possibly kinda depressing. Definitely angsty, h/c with lots of hurt. Character death will most definitely be threatened, and I'd rather not say what comes of it (though if you're terribly worried, ask me privately).
This update is about 2600 words; the total length now stands at about 18,000.
Previous parts are [here].
Oh, and now that this story is getting fairly long, I'm going to start doing a recap to accompany each chapter. You can skip it if you remember everything that's happened so far (or if you feel like rereading the chapters themselves!). So, here you go...
Previously in the Fragments!verse...
Spike and Xander had just returned from the year 1999 (where they had rescued the Sisterhood of Jhe, saved the world, and had awkward encounters with the teenaged Scoobies) when they found out that Willow was having complications in childbirth and that her life was in danger. They rushed to Sao Paulo to see her. So did Buffy-who arrived at the airport at the same time as them, leading to an awkward initial reunion between her and Spike.
They were all greatly relieved to find that Willow was okay after all and that she and Kennedy were now mothers of a baby girl named Tara. Buffy and Xander were quite surprised to find out that Oz was the biological father and that he lived with Willow and Kennedy; Spike wasn't surprised at all, having found out all that several months previously when Willow and Kennedy took care of him after an illness.
The next evening, while everyone else was occupied elsewhere, Buffy asked Spike to go out on patrol with her. He initially refused, since he wasn't feeling well, but changed his mind when Buffy explained that she was investigating the mysterious deaths of local children. Out on patrol, Buffy quickly revealed her not-very-hidden agenda by asking Spike why he'd hidden his resurrection from her. They talked it out, and things seemed to be working out pretty well, until Spike thought he saw Dru in a crowd. Then the night went from bad to worse: they were caught in torrential rain, they got mugged, and Spike got shot in the arm. In the aftermath, Buffy tried to kiss Spike, which certainly made for an awkward moment for both of them. Meanwhile, Spike was finding it harder and harder to hide the fact that he was getting sick. Finally Buffy and Spike had to fight three child-vampires; Buffy couldn't bring herself to dust a vampire who looked like a six-year-old girl, so Spike did it for her. Having helped her, Spike finally admitted to Buffy that he needed help in turn.
And now the story continues...
Chapter 6
The pencil Xander was fiddling with snapped between his fingers. He blinked at it, surprised, and then threw it away. "Where are they?"
Oz didn't even look up from his guitar, let alone answer. To be fair, even someone considerably less laconic than Oz would probably have stopped responding to that question at about the tenth or eleventh repetition.
Xander looked at his watch. "Okay. Fuck. We've been home for an hour. I want to go looking for them."
"Sao Paulo's pretty big." Oz picked softly at the guitar as he talked; Xander recognized it after a moment as the opening riff of Hotel California.
"Can't you track them by scent or something?"
Oz shook his head. "Been raining for an hour and a half." He played a bad chord, frowned, and started again from the beginning. "Washes the trail away."
Xander picked up the broken pieces of pencil and tried to fit them back together. Then he threw them down again. "This is driving me insane."
Oz just raised an eyebrow.
"You're sure the phone's working?" Xander got up and checked. The dial tone was steady.
Oz put his hand over the guitar strings to quiet them. "Buffy said she was going to go do a patrol. Maybe Spike went with her."
"No." Xander went back to the couch and flopped down. "He wouldn't have gone out. He wasn't feeling well."
Oz started a different song. Nirvana's Something In The Way. "Thought he was just tired," he said as he played. "Maybe he had a nap and he felt better."
Xander shook his head. "He said he was tired, but he was getting sick."
"You sure?"
"He was quiet this morning. Cranky. Clearing his throat a lot. He was definitely getting a cold." These were signs Xander had attuned himself to since falling in love with a former vampire with a weak immune system and too much pride, who'd never admit he was feeling sick until he'd already hit the should've-been-in-bed-an-hour-ago point.
"Maybe they went out for coffee," Oz suggested. "They had a lot to talk about."
"Yeah. Maybe." Xander wasn't much happier with that idea than with any of the disaster scenarios that had been playing through his head for the past hour. Spike and Buffy had a lot to talk about all right, like 'Are you still in love with me?' and 'I could never stop feeling that way about you' and-the pencil half snapped into quarters. "I'm going to check again to see if they left a note. Maybe we missed something before." Leaving Oz to his guitar, Xander went to comb the apartment for clues.
At least it gave him something to do.
There wasn't a note, no more than there had been the first three times he'd looked. But this time when he noticed Spike's jacket lying on the chair in the guest room, he thought to check the pockets.
"We have to start calling the hospitals," he announced, coming back into the living room.
"Huh?" Oz looked up. "What's that?"
"Spike's inhaler. He left it behind."
"Does he have another one?"
"No, not here."
"Does he ever go out without it?"
"Well, yeah, sometimes he forgets it. Which, believe me, is so not good. Especially now."
Oz's fingers hesitated over the strings for a moment. "What's special about now?"
"It's always worse when he's sick. And it's been worse than usual lately, anyway." Xander turned the inhaler over in his hand-the prescription label on the canister was from Sunnydale, 1999. "Maybe he had an attack and Buffy took him to a hospital. They wouldn't have wanted to show this to a doctor-it's from when we were time traveling."
"If that's what happened, Buffy'll call," Oz said reasonably, and picked up the music where he'd left off.
Xander didn't want reasonableness. He wanted someone to panic with. Why did all his friends have such high panic thresholds?
He threw himself down on the couch. Put the inhaler on the coffee table. Picked up the biggest pencil fragment. Wished he could have a cigarette. Wished he could have a drink.
Oz silenced the strings again. "They're here."
"What?" Xander jumped up. "Where?"
"I heard the gate squeak."
Xander ran to the door and threw it open. Spike and Buffy were coming up the front path; Spike was shirtless and his arm was slung over Buffy's shoulders. Xander's split-second relief gave way to a flare of frightened jealousy, and then stomach-clenching worry a moment later when he realized Buffy wasn't so much snuggling with Spike as holding him up.
It was raining hard again, but he went down to meet them anyway. "What the hell is going on? Where were you two?"
Buffy didn't quite meet his eye. "Let's get inside first."
Spike didn't say anything at all, and barely reacted when Xander put an arm around him. Spike's skin was cold and clammy, and he was shivering. This was profoundly not of the good.
Buffy let go and went ahead to open the door, which had swung closed on its own. Xander suddenly found himself supporting almost all of Spike's weight. He still had no idea what was going on, but it was pretty clear that Spike had gone out and gotten himself well and truly fucked up.
There were a couple steps up to the front door. "Can you do the stairs?" he asked Spike, trying to keep his rising fear out of his tone.
Spike replied in a hoarse whisper. "No."
So not good. "Okay. Hang on, I'll get you up." He lifted Spike, cradled him in his arms. Spike wasn't a heavy guy but it wasn't exactly easy, not like it would be for Buffy.
She noticed, made a little move towards them. "Do you want me to-"
Xander shook his head. "Just hold the door."
He made it up the steps and through the doorway, being careful not to bump Spike against the frame. At least Spike wasn't limp in his arms; he had an arm wrapped around Xander's shoulders for balance. Xander could feel the shivers wracking his whole body.
As soon as he saw them, Oz put down his guitar and stood up. "What happened?"
Buffy came in behind Xander and shut the door. "It's kinda a long story."
Xander carried Spike over to the couch. "Oz, we need towels. Blankets." He laid Spike down. Crouched next to him, touched his face. "Spike? You need to tell me what happened."
"I'm just t-tired, luv. Pushed it t-too far." He coughed.
Xander turned back to Buffy. "Okay, I want to hear the long story. Now. Starting with why the hell was Spike out in the rain in the first place?"
Buffy, standing on the mat just inside the door, starting wringing out her own shirt. She was still avoiding meeting Xander's eye. "It wasn't raining when we started. I wanted to check out some possible vamp activity in a neighborhood near here, and I needed Spike to do the talking for me."
"You took him out on patrol?"
Oz arrived with an armful of fluffy yellow towels. He handed two to Xander and one to Buffy. "I put a quilt in the dryer," he said. "Five minutes, to warm it up."
Spike touched Xander's hand. "D-don't blame Buffy. I wanted t-to go."
Because Buffy asked you to, Xander thought, but he didn't say it. "Sit up, I've got to get you dry." He helped Spike get into a huddled sitting position, and started rubbing him down with the towel. "Why didn't you come back when it started raining?"
"There were c-complications."
Spike failed to elaborate, so Xander turned to Buffy.
She stopped rubbing her hair with the towel and said, almost sheepishly, "We were robbed."
"You were robbed?" Xander stared at her. "By humans?"
She nodded.
"Uh, don't you have superpowers?"
"They had guns."
"You were robbed at gunpoint." Xander felt his voice going a little high-pitched. This was worse than what he'd been imagining.
Buffy winced. "Believe me, it was not my proudest moment."
"N-nothing you could've d-done, pet," Spike said, and then he sneezed. "Ha-tishoo!"
Xander looked at Spike, who was sniffling. This part was exactly what Xander had been afraid of. "You're sick."
Spike just nodded, and sneezed again.
"Jesus Christ, Spike, why'd you take your shirt off?"
Spike touched the place where his t-shirt was tied around his upper arm. "Had t-to use it f-for a bandage."
"What happened?"
Buffy gave Xander a guilty look. "He got shot."
"Shot?!"
"Only a little," Spike said, sniffling again. "Can I get a tissue?"
"There's some in the bathroom," Oz said, leaving the room.
"You got shot?!" Xander was having a little trouble getting past this fact. "And this wasn't the first thing you mentioned when you came in the door?"
"Didn't th-think of it much after the f-fight with the vampires." He took the kleenex box the Oz handed him and snatched one out to blow his nose.
"Vampires?!" Xander turned to Buffy. "In the pouring rain, after you'd been robbed and Spike had been shot, you went ahead and fought vampires?"
"We just sort of ran into them," Buffy said, sounding a little defensive. "We were about to head home."
"B-besides, we had t-to see if Dru was b-behind it. Thought I s-saw her earlier."
Xander found himself on his feet and the towel on the floor. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears. "Drusilla is here?!"
"No," Buffy said, at the same time as Spike said: "Maybe."
"I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this." Xander was dimly aware, at this point, that he'd pretty much lost it. He wanted to hit something. "Buffy, what the fuck is going on here? Did somebody cast a spell? Some kind of everything-that-could-possibly-go-wrong-in-an-hour-flat curse? Did you piss off a vengeance demon? 'Cause I'm telling you, whatever the fuck it is, I want my boyfriend out of it!"
Someone touched Xander's shoulder on his blind side. He reacted like a freaked-out cat, lashing out before he even realized what was happening.
Oz deflected his wild punch with a gentle Tai Chi-style move. "Xander," he said, like being calm was his own personal superpower, "Chill. There's stuff to do."
Buffy was backed against the wall, hugging herself. She looked like she might be about to cry. Xander was mad enough at her that he didn't even care.
Oz was still talking. "Take Spike into the bedroom. Get his clothes off. I'll bring you the quilt. Buffy needs us out of here so she can get changed herself."
The bit about Spike got Xander moving. Breathing steadily again. Spike was lying back on the couch with his eyes closed and his arms tucked tight around his bruised chest. His jeans were so wet Xander could see dark patches on the couch where he was lying, and he was still visibly shivering.
Like the flip of a switch, he was back from rage to fear. Nobody else here understood how serious this was-how fragile Spike was now, how many times an ordinary cold had escalated into desperate emergency room visits and weeks in the hospital.
Okay, Spike knew, but he systematically denied it, which was probably how he'd ended up where he was right now. Xander was pretty sure he was going to be furious with Spike as soon as he finished being worried about him. "Hey, Spike." He knelt by the couch, and touched Spike's hand. "Can you hear me?"
Spike opened his eyes and managed something faintly resembling a smirk. "H-heard you goin' postal. Makes a bloke f-feel loved."
"We're gonna get you warm and dry, okay?" Xander tucked an arm under Spike's shoulders.
"C'n walk on my own," Spike protested as Xander lifted him off the couch, but the words didn't have much oomph behind them.
"Sure," Xander agreed, "but you don't have to. I've got you now." He carried Spike into the guest bedroom, and laid him down on the bed with his feet dangling over the edge. "Okay, boots first." He started working on the waterlogged laces. As usual, Spike had tied the things with messy knots, like a simple pull-both-ends-to-release-this kind of bow was too girly for him. Xander's fingernails were short, bitten down nearly to the quick, and his blunt fingertips couldn't get around the tight, wet laces. The tiny, hard little knots refused to yield. "Fuck it," he muttered. He pulled out his pocketknife and sliced through the laces.
He quickly peeled off the rest of Spike's wet clothes-socks, jeans, underwear. For the jeans part Spike stood up, leaning heavily on Xander's shoulder and shaking badly. "Think I fucked up," he said.
Xander rolled his eye. "No kidding." It came out kind of sharp. He wanted to yell at Spike for going out in the night, in the rain, when he was sick. For going out with Buffy-what was that all about? And Spike had obviously noticed the tone, because he was pulling away from Xander, looking tense and miserable. Fuck. This is so not a good time for a fight. "Sorry," Xander said. "I'm just kinda worried about you."
There was a knock at the bedroom door, and Oz said "It's me." He entered the room with a bulky quilt in his arms, which he handed over to Xander. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. "This should help," he said. The quilt was powder blue, covered with pink and orange stars. It was hideously ugly.
"Where the fuck did this thing come from?" Spike asked as Xander wrapped him up in it. "School for the blind?"
"Willow made it," Oz said.
"Oh. Sorry, mate. No offense."
Oz shrugged. "None taken."
Xander felt a little bit calmer. Spike being snarky was a good sign, generally speaking. He'd stopped shivering, too. Xander helped him get propped up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"Feel like shite, actually. Fuck, hold on a mo-" Spike huddled in on himself and sneezed a couple times.
"I'll get the Kleenex," Oz offered from the doorway, and disappeared down the hall.
Xander picked up the wet clothes and hung them over the wooden chair that stood in a corner of the room. Then he went to Spike's duffle bag and started picking out a dry outfit.
"What're you up to, luv?" Spike asked. "Don't think I'll be going out for a while."
"We still have to go to the hospital," Xander reminded him as Oz came back into the room with the Kleenex box. "Remember the part about you getting shot?"
"That'll wait till tomorrow." Spike took a couple tissues and blew his nose.
Xander gave him a disbelieving look. "Like hell. You were shot."
"You don't have to keep saying it. Not like I've forgotten. It's my bloody arm, and it fucking hurts."
"Which brings me back to my point about let's-go-to-the-hospital-now."
"I'll take some painkillers."
"Yeah, that'll help with the gaping hole in your flesh."
Spike tugged the quilt a little tighter around himself and gave Xander a raw, pleading look. "I'm tired, pet. If we go to the hospital it'll be hours before I can sleep. I just want to rest."
"Oh." Xander had thought Spike was protesting out of bravado, not weariness. This changed things. "Okay, maybe you should get some sleep first."
Oz cleared his throat. "Actually, you need to get the stitches tonight," he said to Spike. "It'll be too late tomorrow, the cut will've already started to heal. But you don't have to go out. I can do it here."
"Huh?" Xander put a protective hand on Spike's shoulder. "Call me unadventurous, but I'd rather get my boyfriend treated by someone with actual medical training."
Oz nodded. "Understood. But it's okay. I have actual medical training."
Continued in Chapter Seven
And now: an update! Woohoo!
I want to thank yourlibrarian for not only beta-reading this part, but becoming a true co-conspirator; she's letting me bounce all sorts of ideas off her, and generally run on and on, and she's given me some pretty awesome ideas of her own!
Here's the story info:
Title: That Good Night (part 6 of ?)
Rating: Still not sure. Definitely R; may go to NC-17.
Continuity info: This is the sixth story in the Fragments 'verse, fitting in immediately after "Before the Time of Dawn." This story is set a couple years post-NFA.
Summary: Spike is human and he's having problems. Meanwhile, Willow has just had a baby; Xander and Spike have traveled to Sao Paulo to see her, and so has Buffy.
Warnings: My posting schedule will probably continue to be erratic! If that's going to frustrate you hugely, you should probably wait until it's complete. Also, it's going to be dark. Possibly kinda depressing. Definitely angsty, h/c with lots of hurt. Character death will most definitely be threatened, and I'd rather not say what comes of it (though if you're terribly worried, ask me privately).
This update is about 2600 words; the total length now stands at about 18,000.
Previous parts are [here].
Oh, and now that this story is getting fairly long, I'm going to start doing a recap to accompany each chapter. You can skip it if you remember everything that's happened so far (or if you feel like rereading the chapters themselves!). So, here you go...
Previously in the Fragments!verse...
Spike and Xander had just returned from the year 1999 (where they had rescued the Sisterhood of Jhe, saved the world, and had awkward encounters with the teenaged Scoobies) when they found out that Willow was having complications in childbirth and that her life was in danger. They rushed to Sao Paulo to see her. So did Buffy-who arrived at the airport at the same time as them, leading to an awkward initial reunion between her and Spike.
They were all greatly relieved to find that Willow was okay after all and that she and Kennedy were now mothers of a baby girl named Tara. Buffy and Xander were quite surprised to find out that Oz was the biological father and that he lived with Willow and Kennedy; Spike wasn't surprised at all, having found out all that several months previously when Willow and Kennedy took care of him after an illness.
The next evening, while everyone else was occupied elsewhere, Buffy asked Spike to go out on patrol with her. He initially refused, since he wasn't feeling well, but changed his mind when Buffy explained that she was investigating the mysterious deaths of local children. Out on patrol, Buffy quickly revealed her not-very-hidden agenda by asking Spike why he'd hidden his resurrection from her. They talked it out, and things seemed to be working out pretty well, until Spike thought he saw Dru in a crowd. Then the night went from bad to worse: they were caught in torrential rain, they got mugged, and Spike got shot in the arm. In the aftermath, Buffy tried to kiss Spike, which certainly made for an awkward moment for both of them. Meanwhile, Spike was finding it harder and harder to hide the fact that he was getting sick. Finally Buffy and Spike had to fight three child-vampires; Buffy couldn't bring herself to dust a vampire who looked like a six-year-old girl, so Spike did it for her. Having helped her, Spike finally admitted to Buffy that he needed help in turn.
And now the story continues...
Chapter 6
The pencil Xander was fiddling with snapped between his fingers. He blinked at it, surprised, and then threw it away. "Where are they?"
Oz didn't even look up from his guitar, let alone answer. To be fair, even someone considerably less laconic than Oz would probably have stopped responding to that question at about the tenth or eleventh repetition.
Xander looked at his watch. "Okay. Fuck. We've been home for an hour. I want to go looking for them."
"Sao Paulo's pretty big." Oz picked softly at the guitar as he talked; Xander recognized it after a moment as the opening riff of Hotel California.
"Can't you track them by scent or something?"
Oz shook his head. "Been raining for an hour and a half." He played a bad chord, frowned, and started again from the beginning. "Washes the trail away."
Xander picked up the broken pieces of pencil and tried to fit them back together. Then he threw them down again. "This is driving me insane."
Oz just raised an eyebrow.
"You're sure the phone's working?" Xander got up and checked. The dial tone was steady.
Oz put his hand over the guitar strings to quiet them. "Buffy said she was going to go do a patrol. Maybe Spike went with her."
"No." Xander went back to the couch and flopped down. "He wouldn't have gone out. He wasn't feeling well."
Oz started a different song. Nirvana's Something In The Way. "Thought he was just tired," he said as he played. "Maybe he had a nap and he felt better."
Xander shook his head. "He said he was tired, but he was getting sick."
"You sure?"
"He was quiet this morning. Cranky. Clearing his throat a lot. He was definitely getting a cold." These were signs Xander had attuned himself to since falling in love with a former vampire with a weak immune system and too much pride, who'd never admit he was feeling sick until he'd already hit the should've-been-in-bed-an-hour-ago point.
"Maybe they went out for coffee," Oz suggested. "They had a lot to talk about."
"Yeah. Maybe." Xander wasn't much happier with that idea than with any of the disaster scenarios that had been playing through his head for the past hour. Spike and Buffy had a lot to talk about all right, like 'Are you still in love with me?' and 'I could never stop feeling that way about you' and-the pencil half snapped into quarters. "I'm going to check again to see if they left a note. Maybe we missed something before." Leaving Oz to his guitar, Xander went to comb the apartment for clues.
At least it gave him something to do.
There wasn't a note, no more than there had been the first three times he'd looked. But this time when he noticed Spike's jacket lying on the chair in the guest room, he thought to check the pockets.
"We have to start calling the hospitals," he announced, coming back into the living room.
"Huh?" Oz looked up. "What's that?"
"Spike's inhaler. He left it behind."
"Does he have another one?"
"No, not here."
"Does he ever go out without it?"
"Well, yeah, sometimes he forgets it. Which, believe me, is so not good. Especially now."
Oz's fingers hesitated over the strings for a moment. "What's special about now?"
"It's always worse when he's sick. And it's been worse than usual lately, anyway." Xander turned the inhaler over in his hand-the prescription label on the canister was from Sunnydale, 1999. "Maybe he had an attack and Buffy took him to a hospital. They wouldn't have wanted to show this to a doctor-it's from when we were time traveling."
"If that's what happened, Buffy'll call," Oz said reasonably, and picked up the music where he'd left off.
Xander didn't want reasonableness. He wanted someone to panic with. Why did all his friends have such high panic thresholds?
He threw himself down on the couch. Put the inhaler on the coffee table. Picked up the biggest pencil fragment. Wished he could have a cigarette. Wished he could have a drink.
Oz silenced the strings again. "They're here."
"What?" Xander jumped up. "Where?"
"I heard the gate squeak."
Xander ran to the door and threw it open. Spike and Buffy were coming up the front path; Spike was shirtless and his arm was slung over Buffy's shoulders. Xander's split-second relief gave way to a flare of frightened jealousy, and then stomach-clenching worry a moment later when he realized Buffy wasn't so much snuggling with Spike as holding him up.
It was raining hard again, but he went down to meet them anyway. "What the hell is going on? Where were you two?"
Buffy didn't quite meet his eye. "Let's get inside first."
Spike didn't say anything at all, and barely reacted when Xander put an arm around him. Spike's skin was cold and clammy, and he was shivering. This was profoundly not of the good.
Buffy let go and went ahead to open the door, which had swung closed on its own. Xander suddenly found himself supporting almost all of Spike's weight. He still had no idea what was going on, but it was pretty clear that Spike had gone out and gotten himself well and truly fucked up.
There were a couple steps up to the front door. "Can you do the stairs?" he asked Spike, trying to keep his rising fear out of his tone.
Spike replied in a hoarse whisper. "No."
So not good. "Okay. Hang on, I'll get you up." He lifted Spike, cradled him in his arms. Spike wasn't a heavy guy but it wasn't exactly easy, not like it would be for Buffy.
She noticed, made a little move towards them. "Do you want me to-"
Xander shook his head. "Just hold the door."
He made it up the steps and through the doorway, being careful not to bump Spike against the frame. At least Spike wasn't limp in his arms; he had an arm wrapped around Xander's shoulders for balance. Xander could feel the shivers wracking his whole body.
As soon as he saw them, Oz put down his guitar and stood up. "What happened?"
Buffy came in behind Xander and shut the door. "It's kinda a long story."
Xander carried Spike over to the couch. "Oz, we need towels. Blankets." He laid Spike down. Crouched next to him, touched his face. "Spike? You need to tell me what happened."
"I'm just t-tired, luv. Pushed it t-too far." He coughed.
Xander turned back to Buffy. "Okay, I want to hear the long story. Now. Starting with why the hell was Spike out in the rain in the first place?"
Buffy, standing on the mat just inside the door, starting wringing out her own shirt. She was still avoiding meeting Xander's eye. "It wasn't raining when we started. I wanted to check out some possible vamp activity in a neighborhood near here, and I needed Spike to do the talking for me."
"You took him out on patrol?"
Oz arrived with an armful of fluffy yellow towels. He handed two to Xander and one to Buffy. "I put a quilt in the dryer," he said. "Five minutes, to warm it up."
Spike touched Xander's hand. "D-don't blame Buffy. I wanted t-to go."
Because Buffy asked you to, Xander thought, but he didn't say it. "Sit up, I've got to get you dry." He helped Spike get into a huddled sitting position, and started rubbing him down with the towel. "Why didn't you come back when it started raining?"
"There were c-complications."
Spike failed to elaborate, so Xander turned to Buffy.
She stopped rubbing her hair with the towel and said, almost sheepishly, "We were robbed."
"You were robbed?" Xander stared at her. "By humans?"
She nodded.
"Uh, don't you have superpowers?"
"They had guns."
"You were robbed at gunpoint." Xander felt his voice going a little high-pitched. This was worse than what he'd been imagining.
Buffy winced. "Believe me, it was not my proudest moment."
"N-nothing you could've d-done, pet," Spike said, and then he sneezed. "Ha-tishoo!"
Xander looked at Spike, who was sniffling. This part was exactly what Xander had been afraid of. "You're sick."
Spike just nodded, and sneezed again.
"Jesus Christ, Spike, why'd you take your shirt off?"
Spike touched the place where his t-shirt was tied around his upper arm. "Had t-to use it f-for a bandage."
"What happened?"
Buffy gave Xander a guilty look. "He got shot."
"Shot?!"
"Only a little," Spike said, sniffling again. "Can I get a tissue?"
"There's some in the bathroom," Oz said, leaving the room.
"You got shot?!" Xander was having a little trouble getting past this fact. "And this wasn't the first thing you mentioned when you came in the door?"
"Didn't th-think of it much after the f-fight with the vampires." He took the kleenex box the Oz handed him and snatched one out to blow his nose.
"Vampires?!" Xander turned to Buffy. "In the pouring rain, after you'd been robbed and Spike had been shot, you went ahead and fought vampires?"
"We just sort of ran into them," Buffy said, sounding a little defensive. "We were about to head home."
"B-besides, we had t-to see if Dru was b-behind it. Thought I s-saw her earlier."
Xander found himself on his feet and the towel on the floor. He could hear his own blood rushing in his ears. "Drusilla is here?!"
"No," Buffy said, at the same time as Spike said: "Maybe."
"I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this." Xander was dimly aware, at this point, that he'd pretty much lost it. He wanted to hit something. "Buffy, what the fuck is going on here? Did somebody cast a spell? Some kind of everything-that-could-possibly-go-wrong-in-an-hour-flat curse? Did you piss off a vengeance demon? 'Cause I'm telling you, whatever the fuck it is, I want my boyfriend out of it!"
Someone touched Xander's shoulder on his blind side. He reacted like a freaked-out cat, lashing out before he even realized what was happening.
Oz deflected his wild punch with a gentle Tai Chi-style move. "Xander," he said, like being calm was his own personal superpower, "Chill. There's stuff to do."
Buffy was backed against the wall, hugging herself. She looked like she might be about to cry. Xander was mad enough at her that he didn't even care.
Oz was still talking. "Take Spike into the bedroom. Get his clothes off. I'll bring you the quilt. Buffy needs us out of here so she can get changed herself."
The bit about Spike got Xander moving. Breathing steadily again. Spike was lying back on the couch with his eyes closed and his arms tucked tight around his bruised chest. His jeans were so wet Xander could see dark patches on the couch where he was lying, and he was still visibly shivering.
Like the flip of a switch, he was back from rage to fear. Nobody else here understood how serious this was-how fragile Spike was now, how many times an ordinary cold had escalated into desperate emergency room visits and weeks in the hospital.
Okay, Spike knew, but he systematically denied it, which was probably how he'd ended up where he was right now. Xander was pretty sure he was going to be furious with Spike as soon as he finished being worried about him. "Hey, Spike." He knelt by the couch, and touched Spike's hand. "Can you hear me?"
Spike opened his eyes and managed something faintly resembling a smirk. "H-heard you goin' postal. Makes a bloke f-feel loved."
"We're gonna get you warm and dry, okay?" Xander tucked an arm under Spike's shoulders.
"C'n walk on my own," Spike protested as Xander lifted him off the couch, but the words didn't have much oomph behind them.
"Sure," Xander agreed, "but you don't have to. I've got you now." He carried Spike into the guest bedroom, and laid him down on the bed with his feet dangling over the edge. "Okay, boots first." He started working on the waterlogged laces. As usual, Spike had tied the things with messy knots, like a simple pull-both-ends-to-release-this kind of bow was too girly for him. Xander's fingernails were short, bitten down nearly to the quick, and his blunt fingertips couldn't get around the tight, wet laces. The tiny, hard little knots refused to yield. "Fuck it," he muttered. He pulled out his pocketknife and sliced through the laces.
He quickly peeled off the rest of Spike's wet clothes-socks, jeans, underwear. For the jeans part Spike stood up, leaning heavily on Xander's shoulder and shaking badly. "Think I fucked up," he said.
Xander rolled his eye. "No kidding." It came out kind of sharp. He wanted to yell at Spike for going out in the night, in the rain, when he was sick. For going out with Buffy-what was that all about? And Spike had obviously noticed the tone, because he was pulling away from Xander, looking tense and miserable. Fuck. This is so not a good time for a fight. "Sorry," Xander said. "I'm just kinda worried about you."
There was a knock at the bedroom door, and Oz said "It's me." He entered the room with a bulky quilt in his arms, which he handed over to Xander. It was warm, almost hot to the touch. "This should help," he said. The quilt was powder blue, covered with pink and orange stars. It was hideously ugly.
"Where the fuck did this thing come from?" Spike asked as Xander wrapped him up in it. "School for the blind?"
"Willow made it," Oz said.
"Oh. Sorry, mate. No offense."
Oz shrugged. "None taken."
Xander felt a little bit calmer. Spike being snarky was a good sign, generally speaking. He'd stopped shivering, too. Xander helped him get propped up against the pillows at the head of the bed. "How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"Feel like shite, actually. Fuck, hold on a mo-" Spike huddled in on himself and sneezed a couple times.
"I'll get the Kleenex," Oz offered from the doorway, and disappeared down the hall.
Xander picked up the wet clothes and hung them over the wooden chair that stood in a corner of the room. Then he went to Spike's duffle bag and started picking out a dry outfit.
"What're you up to, luv?" Spike asked. "Don't think I'll be going out for a while."
"We still have to go to the hospital," Xander reminded him as Oz came back into the room with the Kleenex box. "Remember the part about you getting shot?"
"That'll wait till tomorrow." Spike took a couple tissues and blew his nose.
Xander gave him a disbelieving look. "Like hell. You were shot."
"You don't have to keep saying it. Not like I've forgotten. It's my bloody arm, and it fucking hurts."
"Which brings me back to my point about let's-go-to-the-hospital-now."
"I'll take some painkillers."
"Yeah, that'll help with the gaping hole in your flesh."
Spike tugged the quilt a little tighter around himself and gave Xander a raw, pleading look. "I'm tired, pet. If we go to the hospital it'll be hours before I can sleep. I just want to rest."
"Oh." Xander had thought Spike was protesting out of bravado, not weariness. This changed things. "Okay, maybe you should get some sleep first."
Oz cleared his throat. "Actually, you need to get the stitches tonight," he said to Spike. "It'll be too late tomorrow, the cut will've already started to heal. But you don't have to go out. I can do it here."
"Huh?" Xander put a protective hand on Spike's shoulder. "Call me unadventurous, but I'd rather get my boyfriend treated by someone with actual medical training."
Oz nodded. "Understood. But it's okay. I have actual medical training."
Continued in Chapter Seven