FANDOM: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
GENRE : Slash
PROMPT: 042. Patience.
WORD COUNT: 1474 words.
SUMMARY: Spike woke up. Now Xander tries to get him settled.
WARNINGS: None. Pre-slash.
NOTES: X-Posted to lover100. Set Post Chosen and NFA. Beta credit goes to kimalis
STORY NOTES: Previous Chapters can be found Here.
DISCLAIMER: You recognize them? I don’t own them.
“Where are you?” Xander asked, his voice still trembling. He watched Spike glance around, and struggle to sit up. He didn't move to help him. He was still trying to take it all in. After all, dead men didn't turn up in alleys every day. He also struggled to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.
“Am I speaking Fyarl?” Spike asked, warily glancing around. “Where am I?” He slowly enunciated each word.
“The New London apartment I share with Dawn and our slayer,” Xander replied, uncertain if that's what Spike wanted to hear.
“Bloody Hell! I got spit out on the opposite coast.” He shook his head. “This ain't happening!”
“Where have you been?” Xander asked.
“I know some places can seem like Hell-”
“Are you thick? Never wondered what happened to Los Angeles?”
“I have wondered just that ever since I tried to find you,” Xander admitted honestly. He sighed, glancing around. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes, I am.” Spike struggled to sit up before giving up and staying flat on his back. “Wonder if this is what a hangover feels like.”
Xander left the room and quickly began to prepare a mug of blood for Spike. As he prepared it, he to tried to comprehend what he had just heard.
How did an entire city get transported into Hell? What horrors had Spike seen? Why was he so calm about it? Was there an easy way to ask him?
Ten years as a watcher had taught Xander to never question the way of the world. He had seen things; some amazing, some horrific. Normal people would have gone crazy under the stresses of the job. It just made Xander tougher and gave him the ability to keep his head in any situation. If he could handle a slayer stabbed in the stomach by her own stake, he could handle a vampire that had literally been to hell and back.
“I didn't know if you wanted crackers but I did remember you like to dip food in your blood.” Xander turned into the bedroom, balancing the mug and a sleeve of crackers. “It's not cereal but it should add some texture to it.”
“You don't have to help me,” Spike struggled to sit up again. He couldn't muster the strength. “Bloody hell.” He glanced away, almost ashamed when Xander propped him up with pillows. “I would have managed.”
“Don't look embarrassed. You're doing great for someone who was basically dying last night.” Xander said, patting his arm. He handed Spike the blood and crackers and yawned, realizing just how tired he was.
“Takes more than almost starving to kill me,” Spike said, eagerly slurping the blood. “Haven't had a good meal in ages. Slim pickings down there if you won't touch humans.”
Xander yawned again, sitting in a chair next to the bed. He couldn't believe exhaustion had just come on so suddenly. He had been fine, making sure Spike was fed but now he could barely keep his eyes open. Checking his watch, he wondered if he could spare a few hours to sleep.
“What happened to your wrist?” Spike asked, lightly touching the stained dishcloth. “I can pick up the blood loss from here.” His nostrils flared.
“I fed you,” Xander admitted. “You were so bad when you got here that I figured you couldn't wait for us to get you anything.” He glanced down. “Think I should clean and bandage it the right way?”
“Yes, you should. You don't want that to get infected.”
“Will you be alright for a few minutes?” Xander stood up.
“I'm not a sodding infant. There is no need to coddle me,” Spike hissed.
“Pardon me for being concerned. It's not like you were more dust than dead when Dawn found you.” Xander didn't care how nasty he sounded.
“As soon as I'm able to get out of this bed...” He glanced up. “More blood?” He held the mug out.
As irritating as Spike was, Xander found he was unable to deny him. After making sure Spike was comfortable with his blood and crackers, he went to take care of his wrist.
Settling himself on the closed toilet, he gently untied the cloth. The cut had started to coagulate, but the flesh was still red and angry. Carefully, he flexed his wrist, fighting the urge to scream in pain.
“Do you want help?” Amara asked, peeking her head in. “I can clean and wrap it for you. You never know when you're going to have to do this in the field.”
Xander hissed in pain. “Go for it.” He held his wrist out, noticing the way she winced. “Don't ask questions. I just want this over with.” He watched Amara pull the peroxide out of the medicine cabinet.
Quickly, she clipped her jet black hair back with a banana clip and scrubbed her hands with antiseptic soap. “This will hurt but I need to get the dried blood off.” She took him by the wrist and rinsed it off with hot water. Xander bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood while resisting the urge to cry out. “Sorry. I know this hurts.” She poured Peroxide over the raw flesh, causing Xander to howl. “Sorry!” She placed a gauze pad over the cut and wrapped it with a long linen bandage. “I think it'll hold up but I'll change the pads tonight.” She clipped the bandage. “Your vampire friend seems a little rude.” She put the medical supplies away.
“He's not used to being taken care of. He's just cranky,” Xander said. “He'll be in a better mood when he's mobile. Thanks for the first aid.”
Xander walked into the bedroom to find Spike sound asleep. Taking the mug, he moved toward the kitchen. Rinsing it out, he wondered just what it would take to get Spike back on his feet. Suddenly, a crash from the bedroom startled him.
“Spike?” he called, running towards the bedroom. Silently cursing, he realized Spike was on the floor. “Amara! I need some help!” He glanced down. “What are you doing down there?”
“Admiring the baseboards,” Spike mumbled. “Can you just get me up?” He struggled to pull himself up. “Fuck!” He watched as Xander tried to move him.
“I need my slayer. You're too heavy for me to get up alone.” Xander was never so happy to see Amara. “He tried to get up. Can you help me again?”
Amara seized Spike around the chest and eased him into the bed. “Alright, you're in,” she said. “I'm going to find breakfast. Maybe I'll come talk to you later.” She turned and left the room.
“Look-I know it's difficult but you need to stay in bed,” Xander said, making sure Spike was settled. He glanced down to the floor. “Just a few days to get your strength up.”
Spike scowled. “Don't know why I can't stand.”
“You came from Hell and almost starved to death. I think that's a perfectly good reason for not being able to stand.” Xander told him. He yawned. “If I get some sleep, do you promise not to cause trouble?”
“Yes.” Spike stared at the wall. “I'll just sit here.”
Xander didn't know if Spike was intentionally trying to make him feel guilty but either way, it was working.
“Let me get some coffee. It's been a long night. I'll keep you company for as long as I can. Do you want more blood?”
“How about some food?” Spike asked. “Food was another scarcity down there. It had to be rationed for people who actually needed to eat.”
Xander knew they were low on food but he was pretty sure he could find something to give him. He also knew that he would have to send Dawn and Amara to the store at some point. He wasn't going to leave them with Spike just yet.
Finding a carton of leftover Chinese food, he dumped it into a bowl and stuck it into the microwave. He then proceeded to fill a kettle with water and set it on the stove to heat.
Xander knew taking care of Spike wouldn't be easy. He had been awake less than an hour and was already testing Xander's patience. He knew Spike couldn't help it. After all, he'd probably be needy if the roles were reversed. He would take care of Spike as long as he had to. He hadn't sat up all night to lose him now.
Something else surprised him. Deep inside him, the pangs of attraction still existed. He hadn't expected it to still be there.
As he heard Spike calling for him, he grabbed the bowl out of the microwave. What could he possibly want now?
“Coming, Spike!” he called, ignoring the kettle that had begun to whistle.