Title: Humanitis
Author: Saber ShadowKitten

(notes in part one)

Spike came awake slowly, not too aware of his surroundings other than the fact that he wasn't in his bed. Opening his eyes, the first thing he focused on was Buffy laying a few feet from him by the tub wall, hand on her exposed stomach, sound asleep. He smiled at the sight, love bubbling up inside him rather than sickness. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, he rubbed a weary hand over his face, glad that he was feeling slightly better than he did the day before.

Loathing to wake Buffy after all she'd done for him, he shakily stood, grabbed his toothbrush and made his way out of the master bath and bedroom to the other bathroom. When he came out, he saw Oz standing there waiting, looking sleep tussled.

"Morning," Oz said, entering the bathroom after Spike vacated and closing the door behind him.

"Morning, Spike," Willow greeted, coming out of the other bedroom before he could take two steps. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday," he replied. He frowned at her. "I didn't know you were going to stay overnight."

"You were in no condition to take care of yourself," Willow told him. "Probably still aren't. But you don't look as ghostly today. Not that you weren't pale before, what with your lack of sunshine for two centuries. But you were definitely white yesterday. Hungry?"

"Yes," Spike said, mentally chuckling at her abrupt change of topic.

"Toast and jelly sound good? Or how about just some crackers?" Willow asked.

"I think I'll go with the crackers," he answered.

"Ok. You get back into bed where you belong," she said, giving him a friendly push towards the master bedroom. "I'll bring it and your medicine up"

"Yes, Nurse Willow," he replied in a little boy voice. Willow made a face at him, then went downstairs. He chuckled out loud this time and made his way back to his room. He paused as he put his toothbrush away, looking down at the sleeping Slayer. *That can't be comfortable,* he thought after a minute of just enjoying her beauty. Crouching, he tentatively reached his hand out to her bare skin, running his fingers lightly over it. "Slayer?"

"It's your turn," Buffy muttered in her sleep. "I got up last time."

Spike grinned. "Slayer, I think you want to get up before you get a crick in your neck."

"He's your son, too," she mumbled in reply, curling further into a ball.

"What?" Spike said, arching his brow. *She must be dreaming,* he thought, still rubbing her side in an attempts to wake her. *I wonder who she's talking to in the dream?* With the second thought, his eyes lit up. "Buffy, pet, who are you talking to?"

"Hmm?" Buffy replied, coming awake. She wondered briefly why her bed was so hard, then she remembered she was at Spike's house, in particular the master bathroom. She felt a hand running slowly up and down her side and knew immediately who it was attached to by the comfortable tingling on her skin. "Morning, Spike. Did you ask me something?"

"How did you know it was me?" Spike asked, disappointed that he didn't get to find out who she was dreaming about.

"Talent," she replied, pushing herself to a sitting position and tugging her shirt down. "What are you doing up and about? You're sick. You should be in bed."

"That's where I was going, luv," he said. "But I thought you'd be a happier Slayer if you didn't have a sore neck."

"You're right," Buffy said, rising to her feet as Spike did the same. "There's nothing scarier than a cranky Slayer."

"Except a cranky Witch," Willow said from the bathroom door, box of crackers and Penicillin in hand. She looked at Spike. "You. Bed."

"I'm going," he grumbled, making the two girls laugh. "This being sick thing is for the bloody birds."

Buffy took the thermometer out of the cabinet, then trailed Willow to the bedside as Spike climbed in. The red head set the items in her hand on the night stand. "I'm going downstairs to whip us up some breakfast," she told Buffy. "Want anything in particular?"

"Whatever is fine," Buffy answered. "But you don't have to make anything."

"Don't want to get cranky," she replied with a grin before leaving the bedroom.

Buffy shook her head, then turned her attention to Spike. "Open," she instructed, holding up the thermometer. She stuck it under his tongue, then went about measuring the Penicillin. "I don't know what time we're leaving tonight, but you need to know that you take this much three times a day until it's all gone."

Spike nodded, not speaking because of the object in his mouth. Buffy continued, "The doctor's office should call here on Monday with the results of your blood tests. They'll let you know if you need to be on any other medication. Willow and Oz got your prescription filled at Walgreens over on Eighth Street, Mr. Spike Williams."

The thermometer beeped, and she removed it from his mouth, handing him the cup at the same time. "Mr. Spike Williams?" Spike said with an arch of his brow.

"We didn't know what to put on the medical forms, so we named you that," Buffy explained. "Looks like you're fever has gone way down."

"What's that for?" Spike asked, pointing to the thermometer.

"Measuring your body temperature," Buffy answered. "You had almost a 104 degree fever yesterday and that's not a good thing."

"What's it now?"

"A little over 100," she replied. "Still sick, but not overly so. And if you ever get sick again, normal is around 98.6 degrees."

"I thought that was a song," Spike said, grabbing the box of crackers and opening it.

"What?"

"98.6," he replied. At her confused look, he sang a few lyrics. "It's 98.6 and I know what your feeling, baby."

"Oh," she said, giving him a small grin. "Never heard of it."

"Not surprised," Spike said. "It's a bit before your time."

"You sing good, even when you're sick," Buffy said before she could stop herself. She blushed slightly, then stood. "I'm gonna... go and uh, get cleaned up. For breakfast."

"Come back later and keep me company?" Spike asked, picking up the book from the night stand.

"Sure," she replied. "Maybe we'll dig out some cards and play a few hands with Willow and Oz."

"Strip poker?"

"You wish," Buffy said over her shoulder as she left the room.

"Do I ever," Spike replied quietly. Then he grinned at the images in his mind and opened the book, settling back on the pillows to read.

The four friends played cards for several hours, Spike winning most of the time, until Buffy got fed up and threw the deck at him on her deal. Then they made the former vampire take a nap while the trio went downstairs to watch some television and eat a late lunch. Buffy called her mom to update her on Spike's illness, then had to let her talk to him herself.

"Do you think you're going to be ok?" Buffy asked, sitting once again on the edge of the bed, saying goodbye.

"I'll live," Spike replied, then grinned. "Didn't think I'd ever hear myself say that."

Buffy laughed. "Your humor is back. I think you'll be just fine."

He reached out suddenly and grabbed her hand. "I wanted to thank you, luv."

"It's not necessary..."

"Yes, it is," Spike insisted. "I don't know anyone who would have taken the time to care about an ex-enemy like you and your chums."

"They're your friends, too, Spike," Buffy told him. "Don't be surprised if after graduation you suddenly find yourself with a houseful of guests."

Spike looked nervous as he asked the next question. "Including you?"

A smile stretched across Buffy's face. "Including me. But I'll be down here anyway for the summer with my dad."

"Well, then we'll have to do something, the two of us," he said offhandedly.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied. She stood and gave his had a squeeze. "Get better."

"I will," he said. "Be careful, ok? I don't want my favorite Slayer hurt."

"I'm only your favorite Slayer ‘cuz you love me," Buffy teased. Spike blushed bright red. "I'll be careful and leave now before you match Willow's hair."

"Thanks bunches, Slayer," Spike growled at her.

With a smile, she bent and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, surprising him. "Bye, Spike," she said, then turned and went out the door.

He slowly smiled, bringing his fingers up to touch his lips while they were still burning from her kiss.