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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
Two days. Two days since Spike left and the girls took him back to Buffy's house. They figured it would be easier to keep an eye on him that way, and they could try all sorts of anti-curse magic without having to go to three of four places to gather supplies. Mostly they just tip-toed around Xander, talking in hospital whispers. Obviously the situation was Very Bad.
And did he really need to listen to Willow and Buffy's hushed conversations to know that? The ache was no longer an ache. It was a huge, throbbing pain. His head was going to explode. Either that or his cock would. The shivering was back, and the teeth chattering, and the horrible burning fever. He had no more chocolate. He had no Spike. He was going to die.
The really funny thing, the thing Spike would get a huge kick out of, was that Xander had caved after the first day. After an endless night of sweating and freezing, of shaking and dry heaves, he'd asked Buffy to go get Spike. Please, please, make it stop and go get Spike, in fact. She and Willow both told him no. That it would be okay. That they'd make it better soon.
But it wasn't. They tried spell after spell and nothing made it better. Tara just looked at him with those big sympathetic eyes. Dawn sat with him the first day, after Buffy filled her in, but after that she quietly disappeared, and Xander couldn't blame her. Misery may love company, but it got a little old for the company. Especially Dawn, because she had this thing about everyone dying.
The smell of incense made him Xander want to throw up, but there was nothing to come up, and he was miserable. It was very possible, from the feel of it, that he had a few broken ribs from all of the heaving. The weakness was the worst though. Sitting up wasn't an option anymore, let alone standing. Even lifting his head just seemed like too much of an effort. Why did all of this have to hinge on Spike? Why did Buffy have to make the wish a two-parter? It wasn't like he couldn't admit that he needed to be needed. He could. Would he bitch about being useless man so much if he didn't know it would make him happy to have someone that wanted him, just him, in ways that even Anya hadn't? If the curse would go away by admitting what he really wanted, then gee, yeah, it would be gone like that.
But no, he had to be happy. And he'd tried to tell himself that he was. That everything was fine, and he didn't need Spike. He'd even tried to tell himself that he was happy because Spike obviously did want what was best for Xander, because he'd left, and that was glad making. Since he was still sicker than a plague victim, it obviously wasn't working.
Floating on a new wave of pain, Xander listened to the latest chant and hoped for at least unconsciousness. Briefly, yesterday when no one was watching, he'd tried masturbation, because sex had helped in that regard before. But it looked like solo sex wasn't happening either, even though he felt like it might just fall off. Maybe he could get Buffy to bash his head in like a baby seal.
"Hey, Xander. How are you feeling?" Looked like Dawn was back, and she hunkered down so she was right on level with his face so he didn't have to look up.
"F-fine, kiddo." Oh, yeah, that was convincing.
Dawn thought so too, if the look on her face was any indication. "I went by Spike's crypt. He's there."
"Hey, that's great."
"He's really sick."
"Kick a guy when he's down, why don't you?" Forcing a laugh out through clenched teeth, Xander curled up a little tighter in his ball of agony. "They won't go get him."
"I tried to get him to come, but he said he wouldn't unless you asked. I'm not sure he could have though. He looked kinda like you. All weak and oogy."
"Th-thanks."
"Can't you at least try, Xander?"
"Sure, just let me play slug and ooze across the floor."
"God, no one ever even tries!" She ran off, doing that sort of Dawn snuffle, and it could get worse than it was. Wasn't that nice? The silence from the other side of the living room was deafening, so the latest attempt must have failed. Figured. And now he had guilt on top of the ow. Because Spike was sick because of him. Because Spike wouldn't even be affected by all of this if it weren't for him. Even though Halfrek said Spike needed something too, and she was trying to help everyone, not just Buffy's friends. So okay, maybe Spike would be in the mix anyway. But not this way, not if it wasn't for him. Maybe it was time to try again.
"Buff?" That came out almost soundless. Louder, Xander thought, you've never had any trouble managing loud. "Buffy?"
"Xander! What's wrong?" Buffy and Willow came over quickly checking him over, cataloging his symptoms with a look that had become all too familiar.
"D-don't know, Buff. Maybe I'm just under this c-curse. And dying?"
"We're trying, Xand." The reproach in Willow's voice made it worse upon worse, and wasn't he just girly man, because he was all weepy for like the third time in an hour.
"I know. But. I want Spike. Please? Just to t-talk to him?"
"Xander."
"No, Buff. We did it your way. Now mine? Please?"
"Xander, you can't mean it. Buffy's right. You two would be awful for each other."
"But what if we aren't? P-please?"
The girls exchanged a look, and Xander knew what was coming. More assurances that they would fix it. More convincing him that he didn't need a bleached moron in his life to make him happy. He could recite it himself by now. Which was why Tara's voice breaking into the mix was such a surprise.
"I think we should get him."
Wow. A vote for the side of Xander. And didn't that cause a stir. Buffy won out for volume, because Willow was stuck in huh mode. "That's nuts, Tara. Crazy. They hate each other. There's no way. We all think it's wrong."
"But it doesn't matter what we think, does it?" Tara had that quiet certainty in her voice, the kind she got when she knew she was right, and she wasn't going to let it go. "We're Xander's friends. We love him and want him to be happy. What makes people happy isn't always what's best for them, just like Halfrek said. Sometimes we have to put aside what we think, and let our friends do what they want to do."
"I hate to admit it, Buffy. But she may have a point."
Crouching down next to Xander, Buffy put a hand on his forehead. She frowned. "I think it's dumb. But Tara's right. It's not my call. Is that what you want, Xand?"
"Yeah, Buff, that's what I want. But Dawn said he w-won't come unless I ask."
"Dawn! Get your butt down here."
Dawn came back into the room cautiously. "What?"
"You went to see Spike? How could you do that?"
The sisters stared each other down. "This is partly my fault, Buffy. I had to try to make it right."
If he strained, Xander could see both of their faces, and Buffy's expression softened from big sister ire to something like sympathy. "You did good, Dawn. It's partly my fault too. And we do need to make it right. Let's go get Spike."
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