Angel was still sipping his morning cup of blood when his office phone rang.
"What do you mean Spike called in sick, Wes? Vampires don't get sick. Something must've happened."
"To be honest, I'm a little worried," Wes told him over the phone. "He's seemed rather down recently. Have you noticed? Do you think I should check on him?"
"No," Angel decided, kind of relieved to have a day off from being annoyed by Spike. "He's probably just hungover... Or something. I'm sure we can finish this case without him."
Angel tried calling Spike later that day but got no answer. After work he surprised himself by deciding to stop by Spike's apartment. Angel hadn't been to Spike's place for a while, but he found it looking as neglected as ever. "I like the aesthetic you're going for with this place, Spike," He said out loud. "It really highlights your careful attention to... well nothing," Angel said, remembering oddly how Spike used to put so much attention into furnishing his and Dru's bedroom. The contrast between this sparse apartment and the elaborate love nest Angel remembered was stark, and mildly disturbing for a reason Angel couldn't quite put his finger on. Spike may as well have been living in an empty crypt, Angel thought as he walked through the empty kitchen that at least had a functioning fridge in the corner, through to Spike's bedroom. "Spike?" He stepped through the open doorway. Spike lay motionless in the bed, only his tousled platinum head visible above the covers. Angel walked in and leaned over the sleeping vampire. "Spike," he said more loudly, shaking Spike's shoulder.
The vampire stirred and slowly turned to face Angel with a painful grimace. He made no further effort to get up. "Angel? What the bloody hell are you doing here?"
"Wes said you called in sick. I just dropped in to check on you. You look like shit, by the way."
"Impressive powers of observation," Spike's sarcasm was intact at least, but he was pale and beat up.
"You gonna tell me what happened?" Angel asked bluntly.
"None of your bloody business, is it?"
"I don't know," Angel took the liberty of sitting down on the edge of Spike's bed. "When you don't make it to work and our latest case depends on you I kinda think it is."
"What I can't take a day off? That's bollocks. Don't the undead have the same rights as living employees? I'm putting in an official complaint."
"What happened Spike?" Angel repeated impatiently.
Spike sighed. "Had a run in with an old acquaintance, is all."
"Is all? A run in? And you can't get out of bed?" Angel's tone was accusatory.
"A Silox demon," Spike explained.
"Really? The Silox are in town? In this dimension? Wait, tell me it wasn't that same Silox demon from way back when? Boy, she was too hot for you to handle." Angel laughed darkly. "You really couldn't get out of bed with that one, Spike. She just kept tracking you down and..."
"Yeah, until you killed her, remember? 'Course it's not her. Looks the same, but they all do. Totally different situation. And one I can handle myself. Don't need your help."
"Wasn't offering. You should be able to take care of yourself by now, Spike. I'll just leave a get well present, and be on my way." Angel got up and poured a mug of warm blood from the thermos he had brought along. He sat it on the floor next to the bed, since Spike had no bedside table. "I'll leave the rest in the fridge," Angel told him, studying the other vampire closely. "Spike, you really look like shit. Take a couple of days off. I don't need you scaring our clients away."