A/N: Hello, everyone. I'd like to mention again that this takes place during Season 7 but is slightly AU due to timeline issues. It's Post "Lies My Parents Told Me", Pre-Faith's return/Caleb/that whole bit. XD I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless. DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy or its characters; it all belongs to Joss Whedon. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.

His arms wrapped around her from behind, he could practically taste her. Her scent was all around him, everywhere. She smelled sweet with kindness, combined with a slight tangy air of determination.

Ever so gently, he leaned forward, taking in her every movement---

"Okay," Buffy Summers shouted, "Let's assume a vampire is attacking you from behind."

Spike suppressed an agitated groan, and broke his fixated glare on Buffy's neck to glance at the squirming Potential Slayers standing in front of him. As much as he would have liked to fix this particular situation to his liking, Spike's arms were around Buffy in order to portray to the Slayerettes an example of an attack from behind.

This was a typical Saturday evening scene at the Summers household: there was Buffy in the backyard, teaching and training a group of fifteen-year-old girls about various ways to stake a vampire in the heart; and Spike, who served as "the vampire" in every single one of Buffy's demonstrations.

Which made a lot of sense, of course, considering he was one.

"Now," Buffy continued, placing her hand on Spike's arm. He shuddered slightly at her warm touch, but casually brushed it off. "If Spike's got both of his arms pinned around, say, my lower waist, I've gotta remember I still have two arms I can very well use."

She grabbed his arms abruptly and yanked them off her, before whirling around and lightly throwing a punch at him. At least she's considerate enough not to actually hit me, Spike thought bitterly.

Even if she had, he would've never hit her back. Not in a million years. Maybe he would have a year or so ago, but not anymore.

Getting a soul, after walking the world a heartless vampire for a century or so, changes everything. Spike, of all people, knew that fact by heart.

Falling in love changes things even further.

Buffy suddenly latched onto Spike's arm, bringing him out of his thoughts. He looked down to find that her eyes were closed, and she was swaying slightly.

". . . Buffy?"

She didn't answer him; rather, she held onto his arm even tighter.

"Is she okay?" one of the Potentials, Rona, asked.

Spike gently placed his hands on Buffy's shoulders. "Slayer. Buffy. Anyone in there?"

"I'm . . . I . . . "

His arms were there to catch her when she fell.

Buffy awoke bleary-eyed and dizzy about six hours later. She opened her eyes to find her sister, Dawn, peering at her worriedly from the edge of the couch.

"Dawn? What happened?" Buffy sat up quickly, and immediately regretted doing so: a surge of nausea came over her and compelled her to lay back down again.

Dawn sighed. "I kinda figured you'd do something like that. You know. Sit up with Slayer-speed when you've got a fever of one hundred and four."

"A what?!"

"Here." Dawn handed her sister a glass of water, and Buffy took it hastily. Now that she thought about it, she certainly did feel shaky.

After gulping down the water, Buffy asked again: "Okay. Repeat that in slo-mo for me. One hundred and four? I can't afford to have a fever right now. I have to train. And patrol. And do a bunch of other stuff that---"

"I know, Buffy," Dawn interrupted, "Believe me, I know. But you're not doing so well right now. You slept for six hours straight, but you were shivering the entire time. It was scary. Xander and I were going back and forth trying to keep your fever down.

"Anya said we should take you to a hospital---"

"No," Buffy said determinedly, "No hospitals." Looking into her sister's worried eyes, she added, "I'll be fine, Dawnie. I must have caught a virus or something. At work. Y'know, dealing with a bunch of germy teenagers everyday . . ."

"I resent that. And plus, I haven't heard about anything going around. It doesn't make sense."

Buffy was just about to say something else when Xander Harris walked through the front door, the shorter, lankier Andrew Wells shuffling in behind him.

Buffy sighed. "Since when do we let him out of the house?" she asked, nodding to Andrew, the nerdy ex-villain.

Xander shrugged. "He helps read the big words on the pill box labels. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Buffy said, trying to sound reassuring, "And . . . what are those?" She noticed Xander and Andrew were carrying two big bags.

Andrew looked around nervously. "Okay, so we ransacked CVS Pharmacy. We panicked."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to go through---"

She stopped in mid-sentence, feeling sick to her stomach.

"Hey, Buffster." She heard Xander's voice, though it seemed to be coming from very far away, "You're looking a little on the queasy side. You okay?"

"She will be," Andrew quipped, "We bringeth the medicine . . . eth."

Dawn rolled her eyes and pretended to ignore Andrew's comment. "She just needs more rest. Right, Buffy?"

The voices...so far away. Buffy closed her eyes wearily. She could barely hear anything at all, until:

"Bloody hell. Will one of you shut those curtains? I don't fancy burnin' to death before I even make it across the room."

Spike. "Spike?" she called out in spite of herself.

She opened her eyes to find herself staring into his blue ones. "Hey, Slayer. You're up."

She remembered that he had been the one to break her fall the night before. She wanted to thank him, but something else inside her told her not to.

"Hey, um, is Willow up yet?" Buffy asked, "I haven't seen her."

As if on cue, Willow came running through the door, panting slightly. "Sorry! Sorry! I'm here! Present!"

"Whoa, Willow," Dawn muttered, "Take it easy. We don't want you sick, too."

"Giles called me and told me what's going on. Buffy, how are you?"

But Buffy couldn't help but answer Willow with another question: "You were gone all night, Wil?"

Willow shook her head frantically. "I . . . I was out, you know, doing research about the First and stuff . . . I had no idea any all this was going on!"

"It's okay," Buffy assured her, fighting yet another urge to vomit, "I'll be fine."

It was then Buffy noticed two small marks on Willow's exposed left arm. "Are you alright?"

Willow quickly pulled down her sleeve, noticing her friend's questioning gaze. "I, uh, cut myself making a sandwich. Cabbage heads are merciless vegetables."

Buffy raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.

"Here, Buff," said Xander, ripping open a small box, "Take one of these. It says you're supposed to take one every . . . two hours. To reduce the fever, and other big words."

Buffy smiled a little. "Thanks, Xander."

She tried to sit up, but to no avail; that is, until she felt two strong arms bracing her back and helping her into a sitting position.

She nodded her head toward Spike in thanks, and downed the pill with another glass of water.

"I feel . . . better already," she said, looking around at all her worried friends.

Something told her, though, that for a while, she wouldn't be.