Chapter Five

None but Willow's parents were allowed in until later that day. Giles decided that the best thing to do would be for them all to go to school, so that they would have something to do. If anything changed at the hospital, he'd call them. So, reluctantly, Buffy, Spike, Xander and Anya went to school. Tara stayed.

"I-I am not moving, until I have s-seen her" she said, and both Giles and everyone else knew it wouldn't do any good to try and convince the Wicca to change her mind.

Buffy tried hard to concentrate on her classes, but her mind kept drifting off to the hospital. It was her fault, all her fault. If she had gone patrolling the day before, Willow wouldn't have, then Willow wouldn't have been hurt. If she hadn't been complaining that she was tired, Willow wouldn't have offered to go instead of her, and she wouldn't have been hurt. If Buffy had concentrated a little harder on all her duties and been more like a Slayer, she wouldn't have been tired, Willow wouldn't have offered, and she wouldn't have gotten hurt. If, if, if. Every thought that passed her mind ended with, It's my fault.

By the time the last bell rang to let them out of school, Buffy had worked up herself both a headache and slight hysteria, and she was almost in tears at the thought of Willow.

"Buff," Xander tried to comfort her in the car on the way back to the hospital, "She'll be okay."

"But it's my fault," Buffy whispered. "If I would have gone instead of you yesterday –"

Xander broke her off, saying, "You couldn't have known. Willow knows as well as I do that you would never do anything to hurt us. It is not your fault," he said again, shooting a look at Spike, who sat next to him in the driver's seat, and who had snorted at Xander's comment that she would never hurt any of them.

"She really doesn't need to hear that now," he muttered to Spike.

"Oh sod off mate," Spike responded, never taking his eyes off the road.

Willow's parents had left for work after seeing that their daughter was all right, so only Tara and Giles met them at the hospital. Tara looked a lot better now than she had when Buffy had left, with a slight smile instead of tears on her face. The Scoobies were let into Willow's room one at the time. She was awake, though not talking much because she was drugged against the pain. Xander went first; he stayed there for quite a while, talking to her. He was doing most of the talk, of course. Anya went next; she only talked to Willow shortly. When she returned out and walked over to Xander, Spike, who stood next to Buffy, asked, "You want to go?"

She looked up at him, looking slightly lost since she'd been far away in her thoughts. "What? Uh no, you go. I'll do it last."

He shrugged and walked into the room.

"Hey Red," he said and sat down in a chair next to her.

"Hi," she answered in a small voice.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, although he knew was a dumb question.

"Okay…" Willow mumbled.

"Well, you know," he said, and continued with a twinkle in his eyes, "You need to get well again. Can't have you lying here being bloody lazy all day long, now can we?"

Willow gave him a slight smile.

"That's my girl," Spike said, "That's the Wicca I know."

He bent down and kissed her on her forehead. He didn't know why; he didn't know her all that well. But what he knew of her, he liked, and he regarded her as a friend.

"Buffy's coming in next, so don't fall asleep," Spike warned as he saw her yawn. "She's kinda upset, so you might need to calm her down."

He turned to leave, but Willow's quiet voice stopped him.

"Be friends with her again," she said quietly. "She wants that."

Spike stood staring at the redhead in the hospital bed for a second. Then he turned around and left the room without another word or showed emotion.

Buffy came home late that night. Giles drove her home from the hospital as Spike had already left by the time she was done talking to Willow. The time in Willow's room had been spent talking, as there wasn't much else they could do. Willow had assured Buffy more than once that it wasn't her fault that the car had hit her. It was the driver's fault and no one else's. Possibly her own, because she hadn't looked carefully enough, but Willow didn't say that, as it would probably, somehow, make Buffy think it was her fault anyway. It was hard enough as it was.

"But if I hadn't been so tired," Buffy had began again, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Buffy, you might be the Slayer but you're still human," Willow had answered her softly. "It is not your fault."

Finally, Buffy had believed it. More or less, at least. She still felt guilty, but not as much as before. And that night, Buffy still dreamed of Willow in front of a big black car, hitting her, throwing her to the ground. Buffy herself was in the dream set in chains, having to watch it over and over again. She woke up again and again, sweaty and crying.

It was a week before the doctors agreed to let Willow out of the hospital. Her broken legs were both in casts, as was her arm, and she was sitting in a wheel chair. Her face and different body parts were still covered with band-aids, but she was out of the hospital, at least.

"Let's hope nothing bad that requires a great lot of magic shows up now," Xander said, as they all were gathered in the Magic Box. Buffy and Giles were taking a break in her training, Anya was behind the counter, Tara was helping her girlfriend with anything and everything, and Xander was sitting at the table making comments about everyone at the same time as he was attempting his homework.

"Hey," Willow said, "You still have one fine witch" – she pointed at Tara – "and I'm not totally out of it. I can still – still do – uh – stuff."

"We're just glad you're out," Buffy said, smiling, thinking that maybe her nightmares would go away now. She had had them all week, and she wasn't getting any good sleep because of them.

"Yeah, we know you're not all out of it," Xander smiled. "Just teasing, you know."

"So, who's coming with me patrolling tonight?" Buffy asked, changing the subject. "I mean not that you have to," she added quickly.

"Sure we do," Xander said, "There are way too many bad demons out there for only the Slayer to take on. She'll need her friends."

Still, she ended up going alone. Xander's father had called and said he had to come home and actually do his homework, threatening that he otherwise he'd be grounded for two whole weeks. At this, Xander had packed up fairly quickly, and said good bye to them all, including and annoyed Anya, who didn't want Xander to leave.

When Buffy was about to leave, Willow had exclaimed, "But now you're going alone anyway."

"It's okay, Will, really," she'd answered. "And anyway, who'd go with me?"

She knew Tara wouldn't want to leave Willow's side, and besides, Tara wasn't a very good fighter. She was more of a thinker. Anya wasn't very good in battles either, so Buffy didn't mind not having her as company. That Giles would come with her patrolling was a joke, she though, imagining the older English gentleman staking vampires at twelve at night.

Yet, when she made her way over the cemetery, she felt oddly alone. She had done it billions of times before, why she all of a sudden didn't like it, she didn't know.

A vamp was coming her way, and it didn't take the bored Slayer long before she was surrounded by dust. Then came two more, and staking them didn't even make Buffy sweat. Finally, when everything seemed quiet, she decided to call it a night and made her way home.

February was speeding past them as all the members – except Giles of course – busied themselves with loads of schoolwork. All their teachers seemed to have gotten the same thought during the winter break: "Let's give the students all the homework and tests we can possibly come up with." Even Spike, who Buffy rarely saw do any homework, was working long hours in his room.

And he doesn't even have to care about his grades, Buffy thought with a sting of jealousy. No, in England they didn't count his year here, so he might just as well get 'F's in everything; his 'real' school wouldn't care.

Dawn was the only one in the Summers' household who wasn't busy. Instead, she sat giggling on the phone with her girlfriends till Buffy or Joyce screamed at her to hang up because they needed to call someone.

The phone rang and Buffy answered it. "Buffy Summers speaking," she said tiredly. She expected it to be one of Dawn's little friends again.

"Hi, sweetie, it's me," she heard her mother say. "Would you mind making dinner today, honey? I won't be home until later, so if you could see to it that Dawn gets something to eat too? Please?"

"Sure mom," Buffy answered her mother's plea. It wasn't the first time Joyce had worked over. Since their father had left, she had been working long and late hours at the gallery to get the money to last.

"Maybe you could have Spike help you," her mother added.

Was her mother blind or what? Buffy asked herself. Here she was; she hadn't talked to Spike – at least not in civil tone and at least not with him wanting to do it – for more than two months, and she suggested that he could help her make dinner. Jeez.

"Yeah, maybe," she said to her mom, not wanting to get into the subject of Spike over the phone.

"Then I'll see you later. I've got to run now; they're waiting for me. Bye, sweetie, I love you."

"I love you too, mom," Buffy said and put the phone down.

Now she had to add personal chef to the ever-growing list of things she had to do too? Of course, it had already been added to her list for quite some time. She had done dinners for Dawn, her and Spike at least ten or fifteen times already.

Sighing, she turned on the stove, wondering what she should come up with to eat tonight.

"I love that dress," Buffy commented, "It's the best one so far."

Willow turned around in the deep reddish brown dress, which fit snuggly to her body.

"Yeah, I think I should take it. It's only thirty bucks too."

"I definitely think you should take it."

The two girls were out trying on dresses for the Winter Formal dance. Willow was still not out of her casts, but she was on crutches at the moment, and by the time the dance took place on February twentieth, she would be walking on her own. Tara and her had decided to celebrate that Willow would be well again by going to the dance.

"Why can't you go too?" Willow whined. She had taken off the dress and put it on the counter to pay for it.

"Because I have no one to go with," Buffy answered.

"Then go with Spike," Willow said and picked up the bag that contained her dress. They started walking out of the store. "He's nice, and it is really about time you two stop fighting. You're not gonna have him at your place forever you know. He's going home in like four and a half month!" Her voice softened. "I know it seems like forever, but look how fast you've wasted these two months on fighting."

"If we're gonna be friends, he's going to have to take the first step," Buffy said firmly. "He was the one who got all upset when I said that kissing him was a mistake, not me."

Willow looked at her. "If you were in love with a person, don't you think you'd be upset if that person said that you were just a mistake too?"

Buffy's head shot up. "He's not in love with me," she said.

"Oh yeah? Then why does he give you all these looks when you don't see, why does he talk about you when you are not around, and why did he ask me to calm you down at the hospital?" She continued without waiting for an answer. "Because he cares about you. I admit, I don't know if he loves you yet, but he's definitely on the way there."

Buffy was silent; she didn't know how to respond.

"What – What does he say about me?" she asked finally.

Willow shrugged. "He asks how you are. You know, just a question here and a question there, just so it doesn't seem like he really cares. But I know he does, I can see it in his eyes."

Buffy looked at her friend. "But what am I supposed to do?" she asked. "He doesn't speak to me unless he has to; he even avoids being in the same room. How am I supposed to have conversation with him?"

"I don't know Buffy, you're going to have to figure that one out."

She really did try to get in the same room and talk to him after the conversation with Willow. But after failing once, her hopes went down, as he didn't want to listen to her.

"I don't have time for this; I've gotta go, Slayer," he had said and slipped out the front door.

She hated when he called her 'Slayer'. 'Pet' hadn't been that much better, but when he had called her that, there had been affection in the nickname. When he called her 'Slayer', it sounded cold and impersonal.

So the Winter Formal dance came and went. Xander and Anya ended up joining Willow and Tara, while Buffy settled for a night home with her mother and little sister and a movie, before going out to patrol.

Spike had gone; a pretty, tall blonde had met up with him at the house. Buffy wondered why he hadn't gone to pick her up. Maybe he wanted to show her that he could get some popular little lady to go with him if he wasn't good enough for her.

"Why are you mad, Buff?" Dawn asked her as they sat down to watch 'the 6th sense'. Buffy, who'd already seen the movie four times, sighed and said, "Nothing, Dawnie, nothing."

"I know what it is," Dawn exclaimed triumphantly. "You're jealous of that girl that Spike went with, 'cause you wanted to go with him."

Buffy didn't respond; she didn't feel like trying to explain to Dawn that her theory was wrong, as Dawn wouldn't stop believing in it even if Buffy said differently. Dawn herself had gotten over her crush on Spike by now, which Buffy was glad for, since she then didn't have to see Dawn become all moony-eyed over the bleach-blonde Englishman.

Their mother came in with popcorn and sodas for the two and it was time to pay attention to the movie.

"Atchoo!"

Xander sneezed. "Bless you," was heard from more than one person at the Magic Box.

"Xander, you getting sick?" Anya asked worriedly and came over and gave Xander a kiss.

"Well, if I was," Xander said gently, "Shouldn't you be taking shelter somewhere far away so that you don't catch it too?"

"Oh no, if I'm far away, I don't get sex," Anya responded.

"Anya!"

"What…"

But that sneeze was just the beginning of a flu-season that swept over all of Sunnydale in the beginning of March. Everywhere, people were falling sick, and in school, Buffy noticed that there were more than one student gone, and teachers too for that matter.

In the middle of it all, Joyce had to go away on a business meeting in Los Angeles for five days; it had been planned for weeks.

"Oh," she said on the Sunday morning before she left, "I feel so bad leaving. What if one of you gets sick?"

"Mom," Buffy answered, "You're going to LA, not the moon. Besides, we're not at any bigger risk to get sick now than we are normally. Right Dawn?"

Dawn nodded quickly. She was eager to see her mother go, since it was a long time ago since they had been home alone.

"Oh, okay then," Joyce said, "I'm going. By the way, where is Spike? I wanted to say good bye to him too."

"I'll go up and wake that sleepy head up once you're gone. Besides, he's a big boy; I'm sure he's okay without you giving him hugs and kisses good bye."

"All right then. Then I guess I'm ready."

"Want me to help you with the bags?" Buffy asked and grabbed one before her mother had had time to answer, and she put it in the car.

"Thanks Buffy. Sometimes it's good to have a super strong person around," she smiled. Then she gave both her daughters a kiss each, and she was off.

"And there she goes," Dawn said, waving after her mom. "Now I'm going over to Stephanie's. She wanted me to sleep over, is that okay?"

"Dawn! I thought you wanted to stay home now that mom isn't home," Buffy said.

"Well, I'll enjoy that the rest of the week. See you later!"

She dashed into the house, and before Buffy knew it, she was gone, the long dark ponytail swaying back and forth as she walked over to Stephanie's.

Buffy herself went into the house and made breakfast. It was ten thirty and she was enjoying a day without homework or Slayer training to the fullest. At twelve, though, Buffy wondered where Spike was. She still hadn't heard him get up.

It's not like I'm worried or anything, Buffy said to herself. He's fine. Like you said yourself, he's a big boy.

But just minutes later, she decided to go up and wake him up, since he generally didn't like to sleep to late even on the weekends. Before their fight, he'd told her that getting up late on weekends screwed up his whole body clock. She hadn't really understood what he meant – she loved sleeping, it was just that she didn't get to do much of it.

"Spike?" she asked, opening the door after knocking on it without answer twice.

Inside it was dark, but she could hear him breathing, and as her eyes adjusted, she saw the sleeping figure on the bed. Slowly and quietly, she walked over to him, and shook him lightly. Surprised, she yanked her hand up. His skin was burning hot; he had a fever.

"Spike?" she asked again, shaking him a little harder. She couldn't help but notice the hard muscles hid under the covers.

"Get… off…" he muttered.

"Spike, it's me, are you awake?" She was getting worried.

"Slayer?" he asked, opening his eyes and looking at her.

"Yeah," she said, ignoring the fact that he called her Slayer. "How are you feeling?"

He didn't answer at first, then he said, "Cold… And a bloody headache too."

"I think you've got the flu," Buffy said, thinking back to what Anya had told her of Xander's short illness. "Just rest and I'll get you some water, you need to drink."

She pulled the covers tighter over him as he was trembling slightly and then went down to the kitchen to get water. She took a straw too, in case, and some aspirin.

"Here you go," she said giving him the glass once she was back in the room. "There are some aspirins too, for the fever and the headache."

He nodded, and used the straw to drink the water. Then he lay down and pulled the covers off him, muttering, "Hot…"

It was odd, Buffy thought, seeing him like this. She had no doubt that he wasn't fully conscious of what he was doing, because if he was, he wouldn't let her take care of him like he was at the moment.

As Spike fell back asleep, Buffy went downstairs and called Dawn at Stephanie's.

"Stay at Stephanie's till tomorrow Dawn, because Spike's got the flu and I don't want you to catch it," she told her baby sister. Her sister didn't object; she wanted to stay at Stephanie's.

After talking to Dawn, Buffy went back upstairs. Spike now lay shivering in bed, obviously freezing. She pulled his covers back up and held his hand gently. Then she got the idea that a massage might help him get warm, and ever so gently, she began massaging his back. He moaned. He was still shivering, but less than before.

It is weird, she thought, looking down at the young man on the bed. Though still trembling, he was relaxed. She could see the side of his face, so tender and beautiful, and she felt so bad for the way she – no, they, had treated each other over the last months. She hadn't truly allowed herself to miss him, but being this close to him all of a sudden made her feel bad. She pulled his covers up over him again, even though she knew that it would probably only be minutes before he felt warm again and kicked them off. She was leaving, although she could not quite bring herself to do so. She hesitated for a moment, then she bent down and gave Spike a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry."

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