Rating: NC-17 eventually
Summary: Spike and Xander go patrolling...
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing. Sad but true.
Sorry I'm updating so late, I had a visitor. Also, I can't seem to come up with a good title for this fic. Therefore, it'll remain nameless untill I do. ^_^
Again, comments are most appreciated!
What happened before...
“Poisoned dagger?” Spike frowned as he looked at the silent body on the bed. Willow continued cleaning up her things, and looked at him worriedly. “That’s my guess. The wound wasn’t that deep,” another jar disappeared into her bag. “With all that blood, I figured he’d hit an artery or something, but it was a clean cut, so no go on that.” She sighed. “All that blood…” Her eyes pierced his as she grabbed his hand. “Are you sure you didn’t see how he got that cut? It could be very important!”
“No. Told you that already. I didn’t even notice the wound before we got here. I never saw a weapon on that vamp at all.” Willow sighed again, grabbing a plastic bag with a small amount of strange green liquid in it. “Well, it’ll take forever to analyze this, then.” Spike pulled up an eyebrow. “I swabbed it off the wound when I was cleaning it,” she said. “I could know something soon, but then I’ll have to get going and get Tara to help me out.”
Was it supposed to take so long for Xander to wake up? Was his body supposed to burn up, with Spike changing the wet towel on his forehead every half hour or so? Was he supposed to worry so much? Spike fretted over Xander much more than he should. He knew. He couldn’t help but take care of him. Every time he looked away from the television, he saw the young man’s tormented face, smelled his fevered sweat, sensed his ragged breathing. And he worried. So he went through the motions of changing the towel, cleaning the wound every few hours, trying to relieve some of Xander’s pain, trying to calm his breathing back to the semi comatose state he seemed to slip in and out of. Semi comatose meant healing, Willow had said.
He looked up as he picked Buffy’s scent. So the Slayer had come to check up on the fallen Scooby, had she? He stilled his anger, it wasn’t her fault Xander got hurt. Though if she did her own damn patrolling, this wouldn’t have happened. He tried to look sympathetic as she entered, Xander was her friend after all. The blond woman looked almost lost as she stood in the doorway.
She approached the bed hesitantly, quietly. She just looked at her friend for a while. “How is he?” Her voice had barely been loud enough to reach him. He felt a pang of guilt as he noticed the obvious strain in her voice. Of course she felt bad about Xander getting hurt. She was the Slayer and she had failed yet another one of her friends. He got up and put his hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be fine, pet.”
He had to take a step back as Buffy flew in his arms, sobbing miserably. Her blond hair made a harsh contrast on his black shirt. It muffled her voice as tears fell from her face. “I almost got him killed, Spike. It was me who decided not to go patrolling. It was me who assigned you to that route. It was me who didn’t train him enough to fight off that vamp.” She mumbled some more nonsense, Spike rubbing her back gently, telling her everything would be okay. The Slayer still made his insides melt. Maybe not the way she used to, enough for him to feel the need to comfort her any way he could.
It took some convincing, but Spike had been able to get Buffy out of the house relatively quickly, saying Willow would be there any second to clean the wound and check up on Xander’s condition. At first, she had wanted to stay, but after a more detailed description of Xander’s wound, she seemed to be more reluctant to stay. “I have some tactical stuff to review anyway.” Spike smiled as he watched the door close behind her. “Ata girl, pet.” He turned to Xander. “Now, let’s have a look at that wound of yours.” Some jobs you just had to do alone.
The gash was still yellow and puss-filled, but it looked somewhat better. The herbs Willow was using were obviously having some effect. Spike figured the fever could be a sign that Xander was sweating out the poison, the way they did in the old days. He sighed and replaced the herbs carefully with the fresh stash Willow had dropped off this morning. Xander visibly relaxed as the cool gel-like mix hit his chest. Spike smiled. “Like that, do ya?” He had taken to talking to his silent patient, as a way of comforting himself that all would be well and so he wouldn’t feel like he was caring for a plant instead of a human being. “Here we go.” He lifted Xander easily as he reapplied the bandage. A groan escaped Xander’s lips as he was put back on the bed, but the pain on his face was visibly less. “You just rest now, I’ll pop out for a sec and get me some lunch, alright?”
He threw on his coat and took a last look at the young man sleeping on the bed. “Not like you’re gonna run off anyway, eh pet,” he muttered, and closed the door behind him.