Betaed by Skippyscatt and kitty_poker1

Xander woke up and wondered why he felt like he'd been run over. Then he remembered and groaned. His attempt to sit up was foiled by Spike, who simply put one hand on his chest and waited for him to calm down.

"Settle. You're still sick. You'll feel better, then you'll get worse again. I'm not playin' nursie to you forever. Timmins will be in in a few with some broth. Drink it.

"An' while I'm fratchin' at ya, how the hell did you manage to get so run down? I know you don't eat like ya should, what with not cookin' and all. But the Healer said you're worn out. What's up?"

Xander forced himself to keep his eyes open, even though he wanted to go back to sleep already.

"Don't know either. All I can tell you is that I'm really tired all the time. And walking from the bus stop to the site every day carrying all my tools isn't helping any. I wish I had a truck… " Xander bit at his lip for a moment then sacrificed a portion of his pride on the altar of work ethic. "Spike? I really need a truck. Will you lend me the money? I can't get a loan from a bank, I don't have a credit record yet. And I'm going to lose my job if I don't get a truck. I can't keep taking the bus. I'll pay you back, I swear."

Spike picked at his lower lip for a moment. "No. I'm not going to lend you the money." Spike aborted Xander's stricken look. "Don't look at me like that. I'll co-sign for you. That's better than lending you the money. You'll start a credit record that way. Just don't fuck it up."

Xander blinked at Spike for a moment. "You'll cosign for me? Why? I mean, thanks and all that, but I don't get it."

Spike just shrugged. "You're mine and I take care of what's mine. You need a truck, I'll see that you have one. But you need to do it for yourself. You'll need a good credit rating, no matter what. I want you to be able to take care of yourself if something happens to me. Not that I plan on anything happening, but it's Sunnyhell." Spike shrugged.

"Oh, I see, I think. But thanks again. I'll see what I can find when I feel better. I'm still really tired and sleepy. I think the medicine is messing with me. I'm starting to fall asleep again." Xander valiantly tried to keep his eyes open, but failed.

"That's ok, pet. We'll discuss it more when you're feeling better. Go back to sleep."

Xander mumbled something about ‘boss' and ‘me' that made Spike laugh and settled back into the bed.

While Xander was sleeping again, Spike went down to the barracks in the sub basement and had lunch. He sighed. The blood was good but he'd rather have it from the source. He took a moment to just lean against the wall and grumble. He'd heard about having a stable but he'd never considered it a good idea. Dru wouldn't let them live; she'd drain them to the dregs and then he'd have a newbie to deal with, again.

Timmins came to him and told him that Xander was awake again and asking for Willow. Spike pushed away from the wall and headed upstairs to deal with another round of ‘call Willow'. Spike wished he could bite the stupid bint, or the Watcher. He didn't expect anything from Buffy, she wasn't the nurturing type. And poor Glinda was sure to feel guilty when she found out that Xander was as sick as he was.

~ * ~

Spike entered the bedroom and sniffed quickly. He smelled sea and corruption. Xander was still very sick. He smelled of fever and sweat and tears. Spike wondered how much longer it would be before Xander began getting better.

He walked over to the bed and poked him gently.

"Oi! You awake? Come on now, open those baby blues."

Xander stuck his head out from under the covers and blinked away tears. "My eyes are brown. Where's Wills? You didn't even call her, did you? "

Spike contained his temper with some effort. "Harris, I may do a lot of things to you in the future that you may not like, but I won't lie to you. Not necessary, is it? I called Giles, Willow and Tara, and Buffy as well as Mrs. Rosenberg when you got sick. Giles went to Chicago, Red, Glinda, and the Slayer went to some Wicca retreat thing. And Joyce and Dawn are in soddin' France somewhere on a tour. Mrs. Rosenberg was the only one who offered any suggestions at all and she said it was flu. So I resent that."

Xander had to good grace to look ashamed. "Sorry…no, I'm not. I mean…that is…but Willow would come. She would. She's my best friend."

Spike set his hook. "Well, bloody great friend she is. You're dyin' on me and she's not answering messages. If you want, I'll call again and you can leave a message. Maybe that'll get some results."

Spike took out his cell and dialed the number for Willow's and Tara's dorm room.

"Here, it's ringin'."

Xander took the phone and listened to it ring until the answering machine kicked in.

"This is Tara and Willow. We're not here, obviously. Leave a message and we'll be back to you. Blessed be."

Xander left a short message telling them that he was really sick and wanted Willow to come to see him as soon as she could. He handed the phone to Spike and rooted under the covers again. Spike thought he looked very much like a hedgehog.

After dialing both Buffy and Giles for Xander, and listening as the boy left messages, Spike pocketed his phone. He called Timmins and told him to bring Xander some food.

"Spike, I'm still sick. I'm not hungry. Just leave me alone." Xander tried to pull the covers completely over his head but Spike wouldn't let him.

"No, pet. I know you're still sick, but ya gotta eat somethin' or you won't get better. Timmins is a prime cook. He'll fix something to tempt you, you'll see."

Xander gave Spike a doubtful look but emerged a bit.

Timmins came in at Spike's call, carrying a tray covered with a large napkin. When he removed it Spike was disgusted to see that the fool had fixed chicken noodle soup and tapioca pudding. Neither of which Xander would eat. ‘Not a picky eater, my arse.'

He started to say something nasty but Xander stopped him. "No, Spike, he means well." Xander turned to the vampiric valet and shook his head. "I can't eat either of those. They'll just make me puke. My Dad, he . . . um . . . threw chicken noodle soup up all over me once and . . ." Xander waved his hand suddenly. "Take it away, please. The smell is getting to me. And tapioca looks like frog eye balls. Yuck. Please?"

Timmins hurriedly removed the offending tray and started wracking his brain for something the boy would eat. The problem was that the healer had given him specific instructions on what the lad could have and what he couldn't. Most of the foods Xander seemed to exist on were on the forbidden list.

Spike followed the other vampire into the kitchen and watched as he shuffled through the papers in increasing dismay.

"What? Feed the boy."

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm not sure what to do. Here's the list of the foods the Young Master asks for. And here's a list of the foods he's not supposed to eat. Empty calories. Here's a list of the foods the healer says Xander is supposed to eat. And here's a list of the foods he doesn't like."

Spike took the lists from Timmins and read them quickly. He sighed and shook his head. "I see what you mean. Most of these lists are mutually exclusive . . . just figure out what on the good list is the least offensive for now. I'll see what I can do about convincing him to eat better. If nothing else works, I'll Compel him. Don't want to do that too much. Addle his brain, most like. Don't want a half wit on my hands, had enough of that with Dru."

Timmins gave a short nod. "Exactly so, Sire. Not that Miss Drusilla wasn't a perfectly good sire as such things go, but . . . er . . .

Spike shrugged. "Dru was mad as a hatter. Made me, but she wasn't a sire. Angelus was my Sire. Not that he was much of a sire, either. He didn't care about the Line or the Order, even when the old Master wound up stuck under Sunnyhell. Never mind, that's water under the bridge. Figure out what to feed my boy."

Timmins went back to flipping through the lists and Spike went into the lounge to have a smoke. He was worried about Xander and setting up court; he'd only been to other vampiric courts a few times. Darla had hated them with a passion and Angelus hadn't cared one way or the other. Also, he remembered Giles's remarks about a dimensional portal opening somewhere in the sewers. Where to, or from, depending on how you looked at it. He didn't know. He'd have to find out.

Spike smoked three cigarettes while he settled in his mind how he was going to run his court then he went to check on Xander and Timmins. What he found didn't make him happy at all.

Xander was huddled down in the covers and shaking his head. He was feverish again and feeling sweaty, cross and very uncooperative.

"Don't want it. Not gonna eat it. And I don't like tea. Go away. I want Willow, why hasn't Willow come? I called her myself." Catching sight of Spike, Xander appealed to him for . . . comfort? "Spike, where's Willow? She should have gotten my message by now. And make him take that away. I don't want it. I want chocolate. I want a milk shake. And . . . and . . . something yummy, like pizza. Not that stuff. It's . . . white . . . and lumpy. It looks like Snarfa demon snot. Not eatin' it."

As he had complained, Xander had withdrawn deeper into his covers, like a turtle into its shell.

Spike snarled, "Eat that. Snarfa demon snot has blue chunks in it." Then he took a good look at what was on the tray. It was cream of mushroom soup, perfectly innocuous in and of itself. But it wasn't that appetizing looking and Spike wasn't sure that Xander should have anything with milk in it if he had a fever. "Timmins, he's still got a hell of a fever. Should he have milk? I'd think it'd make him heave. And he can't have chocolate or a milk shake for the same reason. Bring him some beef broth. I'll see that he gets it down. Put it in a mug. Go."

Timmins escaped with a whole hide, for which his was grateful. He went back to the kitchen and made the broth.

Spike settled on the bed and hauled Xander out from under the covers enough that they were eye to eye. "Pet, I know you don't feel good so I'm takin' it easy on ya. But here's the ready. You watch your mouth. I'm settin' up a court and I can't afford the loss of status having a mouthy thrall will cause. The Order of Taraka doesn't take kindly to Masters of my stature messin' around. They've given me my marchin' papers and I'm not taking a chance of havin' them send someone here. Don't like the results of makin' the High Master pissed. Unpleasant at best, deadly at worst. And he doesn't just dust a bloke. Takes a while. And makes Angelus look like a choir boy. Enough of that. Pay attention."

Xander rolled his eyes. "Ok, ok. I'm listening. I feel like hell, but I'm listening."

"Ok. The Order wants the Hellmouth contained just as bad as the Watchers' Council does. Destroy the human race. That's rot. What'll we eat, if all the humans are gone? Plain stupid. But there you are; some people, demons included in that, don't have the brains god gave a goose. So I'm setting up a court to keep things under control. And you're my thrall, god help us both. So some things will be expected of you. I'll try to keep the demands to a minimum, but you'll cooperate when it's necessary, whether you like it or not. Hear me?"

Xander was eyeing Spike with dismay. "What demands? What have you gotten me into? And who? When? I'm not doing it." Xander got a stubborn look on his face, jaw set in mulish refusal.

"Don't have a choice. Remember what I said? I die, you die. I didn't want it this way, but we're stuck, so I intend to enjoy the fruits of Red's stupidity and the Watcher's laziness. You'll just have to suck it up and deal."

Xander looked like he was getting ready to argue, then he turned an amazing color, something near a Yarfa demon, only sweaty.

"I think I'm gonna hurl. Spike, get . . ." Spike scooped him up and demonstrated his demonic strength and speed. Xander had his head over the toilet before he could do more than heave once.

After vomiting once, Xander dry heaved for several seconds then settled back on his heels. "Sorry. Really. I don't understand this. My stomach is empty, so why am I sick? There's nothing there."

Spike examined the vomitus and snarled. "You're supposed to take those pills with some food. A slice of bread, at least. You know the healer said not on an empty stomach. You need the medicine . . . Xander, stop being stubborn. Eat what Timmins gives you. And you're not to stuff yourself with Twinkies, an' Ding Dongs, an' crap like that. You need veggies and greens. You're run down from too many years of bad diet."

Spike scooped Xander up in his arms and carried him back to bed.

****Vignette****

Tara giggled as Willow poked her in the ribs with one finger.

"Here, sweetie, I'll start sorting out the dirty stuff from the filthy stuff. You see if we have any messages.

Tara obediently went to the answering machine and poked tentatively at the play message button. The machine beeped and stated the date and time to be ‘Sunday, January first, nineteen hundred.'

"Willow, the power went off. All our messages are gone."

Willow, involved in the laundry sorting, made light of it.

"Well, if it's really important, they'll call back. Don't worry about it."

Tara bit at her lip and wondered what important message they'd missed. She had a nasty feeling that something life changing was happening while they were playing.

***************

Xander settled back in the bed and sighed. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

Spike waved a note pad under Xander's nose. "I wrote ya a bloody note, ya git. Read it."

"Can't. Your writing is awful. It's all spindly and crooked and stuff."

Spike snarled at Xander, slapped the note pad on the night stand and barked. "My writing is one of my better points. I was always told that it was exceptionally nice. Copperplate. I was a solicitor. Took the bar and everything. You're just too lazy to try. Get over it. Now, stop messing about. I've got to go to that bloody court and try to get a bunch of wild-eyed individualists to cooperate with me. I'm getting tired of guttin' stupid wankers."

Xander's eyes were drooping shut; he was exhausted from the whole throwing up thing and he wasn't hungry but he knew that Timmins was going to bring him something else to eat and he'd eat it. He didn't want Spike ordering him to eat. "Well, think up something else. Go away, I'm tired. Gonna sleep now."

Spike shook his head. Xander had worn himself out in less that twenty minutes. He still smelled of infection and he wasn't keeping the antibiotics down because he wouldn't eat. Spike snarled in exasperation and went to reign over his minions.

****Vignette****

Giles dropped his suitcase by the door. He'd come in on the red eye from Chicago and he felt every bone in his body was dislocated.

He stabbed irritably at the answering machine as he poured himself a shot of scotch and dropped in an ice cube. Spike's voice nattered at him from the machine and then Xander came on. Something about being sick, but he knew the flu was going around and that Spike hadn't a clue about how to take care of a sick human. He vowed to call Willow, as soon as he had a few hours sleep. He still hadn't found any clear references to the portal that was supposed to open here and he was exhausted from his trip.

Giles poked at the stop button, never realizing that the machine was erasing the messages as they played.

**********

Spike snarled his way through court. The demands of keeping his courtiers from rampaging all over Sunnydale frayed his nerves to rags. They wanted to take over the town and he had a hard time convincing them that wasn't such a good idea. He finally just snapped, "Fine. We'll take over the town, rage around tearing up everything. All the humans will run like rabbits, the army will come in and wipe us all out, and there you'll be. As well as finally rubbing the general populace's noses in the fact that we really do exist. What'll that do? When humans realize that we're real they'll panic and start a purge, a genocide that will wipe us all out. Nice.

"The persecution of innocent humans suspected of being demons would be interesting, but the rest of it?" Spike waggled his hand in front of his chest. "Not so much. Just obey me or I'll do you in. Idiots."

There was some grumbling from younger members of the court but older ones realized the truth of what he said and helped him convince the younger ones. It didn't hurt that he had four of the loudest gripers whipped to within an inch of their lives. His threats settled things down considerably.

After that he spent an hour settling arguments between minions, most of which were so petty he was ready to bite himself just to stay awake. He knew he needed lieutenants, but he hadn't found anyone he felt could be trusted yet.

After settling the last argument, which was over a radio, of all things, Spike headed back to check on Xander again. As he walked Spike fished in his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. He found the soppy watercolor he'd done of the garden in the Harris back yard. He thought for a few moments then called a big vampire over. He handed him the painting and told him what to do.

"You know anything about gardens at all?"

The vamp looked a little ashamed then nodded. "I actually worked at Kew before I was turned. Miss it sometimes. I'll see what I can do. It might take a while, as I've been out of it for . . . near eighty years. Lighting . . . tubs. . . some kind of watering system . . ." The big vamp walked off mumbling to himself. Spike wondered how he'd gotten lucky twice in such a short length of time. Then he hoped he hadn't jinxed himself.

~ * ~

Xander settled himself in the middle of the bed and waited to see what Timmins would bring him next.

This time it was a bowl of beef broth thickened with barley, and a cup of funny smelling tea. Xander sniffed it suspiciously but it smelled of King's Foil and hops, so he drank it. Then he ate the broth. By the time Spike got back he was trying to keep his eyes open and failing.

Spike put one hand on Xander's forehead and grunted. His fever was still too high. He was going to have to take sterner measures. He called the healer, who reassured him that if the temp was less than 102 degrees Xander was still on the road to recovery. He recommended alcohol rubs and a cold compress. Spike snarled and hung up. Frankly, he'd been hoping for a ‘magic pill' to get Xander back to health quickly.

He grumbled and growled around for a little then went to get alcohol and a compress. Xander wondered muzzily what had gotten ‘up his duster' but couldn't bring himself to pay attention for more that a few seconds. He wondered vaguely when he was going to feel better. He was having more trouble than usual concentrating on things. The fever was making him drift in and out as it rose and fell. He knew that a high fever would leave him weak and confused. Xander snarled a little himself, he hated being sick and vulnerable.

"Spike, I feel a little better. Why don't you go torture a minion or something? Timmins will take care of me."

Spike snorted. "Your fever is still high, you didn't eat enough of that broth to keep a kitten alive, and if you think I'm lettin' Timmins touch what's mine, your fever is higher than I thought. Now roll over so I can start on your back. This alcohol rub will help bring down your fever."

Xander tried to resist but it felt so good to get out of the sweaty t-shirt that he let Spike do what he wanted. Besides, he really didn't want to be Compelled, it creeped him out. He wished Willow would call.

The alcohol rub felt good and Spike was surprisingly gentle.

~ * ~

Spike finished the rubdown when he realized that Xander was sound asleep again. He supposed that was good. Sleep was healing, after all. He capped the bottle of alcohol and gathered up the towel and compress. He turned to find Timmins standing right beside him. Spike started then snarled. He was not fond of being startled.

"What the hell do you want?"

Timmins bowed and kept his head down humbly. "I'm sorry, Master. But I think I've finally figured out what Young Master Xander will eat. All we have to do is avoid anything ‘squishy' or a certain shade of green. He'll eat almost anything that doesn't look moldy, or feel like it might be rotten.

"Don't worry. I'll make it work. If all else fails, you can just order him to eat."

Spike nodded, but then said, "I'd rather not. I don't want a submissive pet. One of the things I've always respected about the whelp is his heart. He's stubborn as a mule but, once earned, his loyalty is unswerving. Want that for myself, I do. An' I'm gonna have it."

Timmins shuddered slightly. When a Master Vampire used that tone of voice his wishes were engraved in stone. He couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Xander as he went back to the kitchen to try to fix something that Xander would eat that wouldn't over stress his stomach.

He decided on a thick soup, fresh baked bread and more herbal tea. The soup would keep until Xander woke again.

Spike eyed the soup for a few seconds then asked Timmins when he was going to try to feed Xander again.

"Not until he wakes. I woke him to eat. I think that made him even more uncooperative than just being sick did. I'll wait this time and see if you have better luck than I."

Spike remembered that Timmins said he should take care of Xander himself and rumbled his annoyance. Timmins stood up to him, remarking, "You want his loyalty, you have to earn it."

Spike nodded. "I know that, ya git. I just seem to be running short of me. I'm going to appoint a lieutenant to take care of the minor arguments. I'm not having a bunch of newbies and fledges killin' each other over radios and other such shite. I'm keeping an old-fashioned court. No one does anything without my permission. Whippin's and what all should convince all but the diehards that I mean business. Them? I'll stake. What do you think?" Spike's tone of voice led Timmins to believe that the question was more rhetorical than anything else, but he answered anyway.

"I think that you'll keep them on the straight and narrow. If they get too far out of hand, a good flogging will convince them to fall back in line. I also think that you are right. There's too much going on in the Hellmouth for people not to notice, sooner or later. And it's much later than I like. We're heading for a fall rather quickly. The Order of Taraka has been trying to get this town under control for quite a while. Now that the Mayor is out of the picture things are descending into chaos and the Initiative isn't helping any. They've run a lot of the more responsible demon tribes right out of town. Their controlling influence is fading rapidly."

Spike made a face. He was expected to keep the Hellmouth from enticing demons into committing truly attention-gathering atrocities. Things he would have enjoyed doing just a few months ago, now he was supposed to keep demons from being demons? He sighed.

"I know and I don't have the status I need yet. I'm havin' trouble getting some of the younger vamps to listen to me. I'm Master here and I'm going to prove it. But it's a pain. Tell me when Xander wakes. I'm goin' into my office and get some work done."

Spike stalked off, grumbling about paper work and pens. It seemed he hated ball point pens.

~ * ~

Xander woke for the third time that day and realized that he didn't feel quite so bad. He still had a fever, but it had broken again and now was mild enough to be annoying, instead of life threatening. His clothing was sweat soaked and sticking to him. The bed clothing was clammy as well.

He crawled out of bed and started to pull the damp, clinging t-shirt off, but nearly strangled himself when Spike barked at him. The sharp voice right behind him made him jump that hard.

"What the hell do ya think you're doing?"

Xander yelped then whirled half way around. He didn't make it quite all the way, as he got his feet tangled in the sheets, falling off the edge of the bed.

"Dammit, Spike. Scare the life out of me, why don't you? Make a damn noise, ok?"

Spike caught Xander by the arm before he could crack his head on the night stand and steadied him until he got his feet under himself.

"Better, pet?" Spike smirked at Xander. "Get back in that bed before you have a relapse."

Xander enumerated his grievances while he pulled his shirt off instead. "I'm sweaty. The sheets are wet. I stink. I'm hungry, but nothing tastes good. And I feel like I got run over by a cement truck. All weak and trembly. It's your fault."

"An' how do you figure that?" Spike snarled indignantly.

"Dunno. But it's got to be your fault."

Spike just disentangled the sheets, pulled the sticking shirt off Xander's shoulders and called Timmins.

Timmins showed up with the tray he'd been standing in the hall with. Spike nodded to the bed.

"Change that while I get this down him. And find him some dry jammies."

Xander couldn't help snickering at hearing Spike refer to ‘jammies'

Spike glanced at him in irritation. "What?"

"Jammies?"

"Well, what the hell else would you call them?"

Xander frowned for a second then, deciding that Spike was serious, shrugged the best he could with Spike pulling his bottoms down.

"Um. . . PJ's? Pajamas. Or . . . hey! No . . . no stripping of the Xanman. No . . . Spike. Stop."

Spike ripped the old boxers off Xander without a qualm. "Don't tell me no."

Xander's face flamed bright red. Spike gave him a quick once over. "You're too bloody thin, Xander. Eat." Xander started to say something but Spike cut him off. "I'll make you if you don't do it on your own. If you don't take proper care of yourself, I'm gonna smack your ass red. Put these on." Spike tossed the pyjama bottoms Timmins handed him against Xander's chest.

Xander got the bottoms on and started to say something, but Spike forestalled him by handing him the cup of tea with the command, "Drink." But Spike was careful not to use his master's voice; he wasn't going to compel Xander unless it was truly necessary.

Xander took the cup and sniffed. It was a rather innocuous blend of herbs so Xander drank some then snooped the tray to see what there was to eat. Timmins finished with the bed just as Spike was reaching for an already staggering Xander.

"What's the matter with me? I feel like shit still. And I'm weak. Really weak. . . ." Xander let Timmins take the mug from his hand then groped behind him for something to sit on. Spike scooped him up and deposited him back in the bed with a muttered, ‘stupid git'.

Timmins helped Xander get settled again then put the tray on his lap. Xander started to refuse the food but a snarl from Spike reminded him that he was supposed to eat and get better.

Why Spike was so worried about his health escaped Xander completely, but Spike seemed determined and Xander felt ill enough that it wasn't worth the battle. He ate what was on the tray then started to nod off again. He wondered if he was ever going to wake up and get back to living.

Spike, meanwhile, had called the healer again and found out that even though the IV had been removed Xander was still very sick. He had listened while Spike described his condition and then told Spike that Xander probably still had a fairly bad systemic infection. He told Spike that he wanted to see Xander again, so he would be there late that evening. Spike closed his phone and told Xander what the healer had said.

"Systemic infection? What's that? Is that why I feel so crappy? I want . . ."

Spike held up his hand and snarled, "Willow, I know. I know. I've called her and left a message. I called the Watcher and left several messages there. I even called Joyce's v-mail. No go. She and Dawn are going to be in Europe for the next month. Her service isn't even recording. Let it go. I'm gonna take good care of you. You're mine and I take care of what's mine. And so will you. I won't have you abusing yourself. Eat good foods. Take your medicine. And there won't be any trouble. But if I catch you sneaking food that isn't on your diet or spitting out your medicine. . . you won't like what happens. Understand?"

Spike gave Xander a fierce look to which Xander responded with a wide eyed hesitant nod. He wasn't sure what to think, or feel, or do. So he did what was best, he settled down to sleep some more. But his heart was breaking in pieces. He'd called and called, as had Spike. His friends didn't seem to care one bit what had happened to him.

He understood that they were on a different track from his now. They were all in college or, in the case of Giles, had different objectives, but he couldn't help but think that at least they could check up on him. Especially since he'd left messages for them that he was sick.

~ * ~

Spike couldn't believe his good luck and Xander's ill luck. He'd thought that he was going to have more of a battle to separate Xander from the Scoobies, but they were doing a fine job on their own. He was also furious. Xander was fiercely loyal, loving and so needy. That loyalty and need were being abused to their ultimate limit. Spike couldn't help but feel bad for Xander even while he reveled in their stupidity.

He waited while Timmins came into the kitchen with the tray. Timmins seemed pleased with what Xander had eaten so Spike let it go. He privately thought that Xander should have eaten at least twice what he had. He remembered Xander's appetite for pizza clearly. For pizza and hamburgers and fries and donuts and . . . Spike's stomach turned. The boy wouldn't know a balanced meal if it bit him. Spike realized that Xander had probably been feeding himself since he was eight or thereabouts. No wonder he had no idea of proper nutrition.

When the healer arrived he was carrying his divining tools in a small duffel. He'd brought several things he'd never brought before. Spike woke Xander and got him sitting up in the bed so the healer could examine him. This was the first time Xander was really aware of what was going on and he wasn't best pleased.

"Why don't you call a real doctor? I don't like magic. I don't want him poking at me. And I'm hungry again. I want . . ."

Spike snarled, "Shut up. You're going to let the healer go over you. If you want a ‘real' doctor you can just forget it. And don't speak to me like that. You'll show respect if I have to beat it into you." Spike blinked, startled, as Xander seemed to shrink into himself, then he remembered. "Dammit. Just let the damn healer look at you."

The healer wisely kept his mouth shut and just took something out of his bag and looked at Xander through it. He examined Xander from head to toe then grumbled. He stuffed his magical ‘whatcha-ma-call-it' back into his bag and drew out a wand. He made a few magical passes and mumbled something. The wand glowed a rather nasty shade of yellow for a moment.

"Well, his whole system is messed up. His diet hasn't done his immune system any good at all. He'll heal but it's going to be slower than I like. At least a week. I'd like to speak to you outside, if possible."

Spike pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it as they left the room. Xander started to protest but decided against it.

"Well?"

Josiah shrugged. "He's just run down. I've already said that. Keep him on the antibiotics. Make him rest, but he also needs some activity every day. Light exercise. And good food. No Twinkies, Ding Dongs, that sort of thing. Empty calories aren't going to do him any good. Plenty of veggies, fruit. I gave Timmins the lists. And if you want to keep your pet, remember that humans can't take the kind of abuse a vampire or demon can."

Spike snorted. "You'll never believe the kind of abuse he's already survived." Spike's eyes sparkled golden. "I got it under control. I hope. You never know with the whelp." Spike ushered the healer to the door, shook hands and thanked him for coming.

Spike returned to Xander's room to be met with a pair of worried brown eyes.

"Would you really?"

"Really what, pet?

"Beat me."

Spike settled on the foot of Xander's bed and shuffled through his options. Honesty seemed best. He knew Xander would know if he was lying or even leaving something out.

"Yeah. I will, if you force it." Spike rubbed his chin wearily. "I'm tryin' to set up a court. It's a mess around here and we're real close to breaking into the public eye. That's not good for anyone. Part of my mission . . . sound like a regular James Bond, I do . . . is to keep that from happening by keeping Sunnydale under control. But between being chipped, which every single idiot out there seems to know, and having a reputation for being as mad as Dru in my own way, I'm havin' problems. And you acting the fool won't help. Don't push things and we'll get along. But . . ." Spike eyed Xander in a speculative manner. "Look. I'll lay it all on the line. Havin' a human pet will add to my status quite a bit. I really need the boost an' I'm gonna take it. We talked about this a little before, but I'm not sure how much you remember."

Xander sighed. "I remember most of it. But I don't understand."

Spike shook his head. "Don't worry about it now. I'll tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. Until then, just relax. When you're well enough, you can go back to work. And, yeah, I don't intend to make you quit. I'll help you get a truck and stuff. Just enjoy life for a while."

Xander grumbled a little but gave up. No sense worrying until he had to. He just wished he could understand what Spike was up to. Something bad, he was sure, but he couldn't work up the energy to do anything about it. That was Buffy's job, as she was always telling him.

~ * ~

When Xander woke again Timmins presented him with his pills and a glass of water. Xander took them without protest. He had a lot to think about and found that he didn't want to go back to sleep just yet. He lay in the bed and thought instead.

All he could think was, he didn't understand why his friends didn't come to help him and Spike did, with every evidence that he intended to be here for the long haul. He wished for some of his things but figured most of his stuff was gone for good, between leaving it at home and in storage.

He worried at things until it was all he could do not to scream. He wished for something to do to take his mind off everything. He didn't feel like sleeping, finally.

Timmins came in with some more soup and a piece of bread. Xander eyed the tray with a jaundiced eye.

"Kinda thin pickings. I'm starting to get really hungry finally. I want something a little more substantial."

Timmins nodded, almost a bow. "Yes, Young Master. The next time I bring you something, I'll try to make it a little more filling. Why don't you just eat this for now? See how it sets in your stomach. It wouldn't do to have you getting sick again." Timmins put the tray on Xander's lap and noticed the sheets were rumpled. "Are you restless?" Xander nodded, his mouth full of bread. "I'll see if I can't get Master Spike to allow you to have a telly."

Xander swallowed quickly and Timmins realized his mistake one sentence too late. "Spike's not the boss of me. I don't care about some stupid spell. Willow will nullify it once she realizes what she's done. I want a tv. I'm bored. And more soup. This is good. But it could use some potatoes and some carrots. I like carrots. If they're fresh."

Timmins just sighed; he was going to have to watch himself carefully. Any hint that Xander had to get Master Spike's permission seemed to set the young master off.

Spike told Timmins when he asked that Xander could have anything he wanted in the way of entertainment as long as he stayed in the bed. Except for a walk up and down the hall twice a day, which he would see to himself.

For the rest of that day Spike switched between getting Xander to eat what he should and working on business in his office. He'd always known that a proper minion was humble, obedient and willing. He was now finding out that they had to be smart as well or he was doomed. He'd had to go back to the stables several times to find a proper secretary and some other office help. Timmins had been of great assistance in finding him proper staff. He still couldn't reconcile being ‘the Big Bad' with having office staff. But he needed them and as a master vampire he got what he wanted.

~ * ~

"Spike, I don't want to walk. I want to watch tv. And I want . . ."

Spike snarled. "Don't care what you want, do I? Get walking and you can go back to bed and watch telly to your heart's content. Argue with me one more time and you'll do without. Now walk."

Xander snarled. "You're not the boss of me. I'll do what I want." Xander got a good look at Spike's face and wisely decided he wanted to walk. "I'll make one more round then I'm going back to bed."

Spike decided to settle for what he could get. He wasn't going to wear Xander down by fighting with him at every turn. So they made one more trip to the end of the hall and back. Xander seemed to be getting stronger by the hour, which pleased Spike a great deal more than he thought it would.

Spike tucked Xander back in his bed and started to leave the room. Xander called him back then nestled in his pillows, picking at the cover.

"Well, what is it? Come on. If it's not unreasonable, I'll see you have it. Now spit it out. Got things to kill an' whatnot."

Xander mumbled "My stuff. In storage. I . . . never mind. I . . ."

Spike just pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of a pocket in the ever present duster and demanded the address of the storage facility. Xander told him and explained that the owner hated his dad and was storing it for spite. "But if you could offer him something, I'll pay you back. I don't take charity."

Spike nodded and left the room, headed for a good fight and a trip to the storage.

~ * ~

Spikes looked at the dinky sign and snorted. Sammy's Storage didn't look like much, but it was housed in an old warehouse. It was a lot larger than it looked as the building was sideways to the street.

The owner was seated behind the counter and when Spike asked for Xander's stuff, he gave him a look that made Spike stiffen.

"Not stealin' it. Boy's sick. Needs his things around him. I'm takin' care of him til he's better. Now cough up. Ok?"
Sammy eyed him for a moment more then surprised Spike. "Ok, Master Spike. But if this comes back to bite me in the ass I'm sending him to you. Come this way."

Spike tapped a cigarette out of the package and stuck it between his lips. He didn't light it, just let it dangle.

When he saw Xander's few belongings, he ground his teeth. Between what he already had and this little bit of stuff, Xander didn't own enough property to fill a quarter ton truck. Spike had more stuff when he lived in his crypt.

Sammy helped Spike take the few possessions out to his car so he'd only have to make one trip. Spike handed Sammy two hundred dollars which he tried to refuse.

"Take it. When Tony asks, tell him that Xander's mate paid the storage and gave you a tip. Don't tell Xander about it, though. You're a good friend to my boy. Thanks."

Sammy took the money with a mumbled ‘thanks' and wondered how the hell Xander Harris had managed to fall into a honey pot like having a Master Vampire take an interest in him.

~ * ~

Xander was walking carefully up the hall when Spike came back with his things. He followed Spike into his rooms and settled into a chair.

Spike dumped his stuff on the floor, being careful not to break anything. Xander just eyed the things for a second, then realized what the small pile of boxes was.

"Hey. That's my stuff. The stuff that I had at Sammy's. He gave it to you? I didn't think he would."

Spike swaggered a little. "Master Vampire here. He gimme it. All I had to do was ask. Gave him a little dosh for courtesy's sake. I'll send Timmins in to help you put it all away. Ok? I got stuff to do."

Spike made his escape before either one of them could embarrass the other.

As Spike left, Timmins came in, so Xander contained himself and let Timmins do all the work. He knew that he didn't feel like doing it himself and he knew that if he tried, Timmins would tell Spike. He wasn't sure what Spike would do, but he was sure he didn't want to find out.

As Timmins picked up the box containing Xander's coin collection the box burst, scattering coins over the floor.

When Timmins saw the coins, he blinked. Some of them were gold or silver and all of them were either very collectable or extremely old. He decided that he needed to explain to Xander what he had.

"Excuse me, Young Master. I hope you won't take this amiss but . . . some of those coins are very old, gold and very collectable. Some of the others are also very valuable for one reason or another. You should have Master Spike lock them away until you can decide what you want done with them."

Xander looked up from where he was kneeling, gathering up the coins. "Well, they're mine. He can't have them. Help me pick them up and find me a different box to put them in. Ok?"

Timmins nodded and left the room. He found a box for Xander but he told Spike about the coins.

"Well, let him keep them for now. They're safe here. As safe as if they were in a bank. When he's better, I'll see about selling them and investing the money for him. He needs the investment worse than he needs a collection of anything. I just hope he isn't attached to them . . . dammit. He probably is. Oh, shite. I'll just have to feel him out."

Timmins bowed and headed back to Xander's quarters to give him the box.

Xander accepted the box and piled the coins in it then he simply shoved it under the bed. Timmins sighed. Such trust couldn't be abused.

Xander watched as Timmins unpacked all the boxes and found the trunk. He unpacked that too, inside the closet. He took every thing out of it and put the things on shelves, or hung them up. He admired the linen sheets and vowed to put them on Xander's bed as soon as he was well enough that he wouldn't have to take them right off again.

He also pulled the guitar case from the depths of the closet and started to put it where Xander could get to it more easily. Xander held out his hands and demanded the case, so Timmins handed it to him instead.

Xander took the case and put it on the floor. He started to bend down and open the case but Timmins beat him to it. Timmins opened the case and took the guitar out. He wiped it with the polishing cloth then handed it to Xander.

Xander took it and settled it on his lap. He strummed it carefully and found that Benjy had kept it in tune. He grumbled a little at the thought of Benjy handling Jesse's guitar. He picked out a cord then strummed a bit.

"Oi, whelp. I didn't know you played guitar. Probably some of that whining, dyin', drunk an' deevorced blues crap you like. So . . . play me something."

Xander made a face, then allowed, "No. Jesse was teaching me. He played classical guitar. He gave me this in his will. But the good classical one went to his uncle. I think I can remember some of Malaguania."

Xander played the first passage part way through, with some skill but a bunch of mistakes. Spike made a face, but Xander stood up for himself, telling Spike that he hadn't touched the guitar since his dad had hocked it almost eighteen months ago. After hearing that, Spike allowed that Xander wasn't bad.

"I wish I had the money to take lessons. I . . . Jesse said I was really good." Xander put the guitar back into its case and closed it. "After I get on my feet maybe I can get lessons." He stroked the case gently. "I'd really like that."

Spike shrugged. Xander noticed absently that he'd left off his duster and was dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt; his feet were bare. It looked odd.

"If you're really good, I might see what I can do about lessons. A reward for not being a pain in my arse."

Xander started to snark at Spike, then realized that it was a genuine offer. He accepted the olive branch with some skepticism.

"What do I have to be good at? Or . . . whatever. I'd like lessons. If you give them to me, I promise to practice like I'm supposed to. Unless I have to work overtime. I'm going back to work as soon as I can. I have to pay you back the loan for my tools and if you cosign for a loan for a truck I have to make payments for that and there's insurance." Xander sighed. "I think I have a headache now."

Spike smirked at Xander's bent head.

"Don't let it worry you yet, pet. I'm willin' to wait on the tool loan until you get a couple of checks under your belt. And I'll take you shopping for a truck as soon as you feel up to it. I'm going to call your boss in a while an' give him an update on you. Next time I call, you should speak to him too."

Xander nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I'll do that. . . " Xander crawled back into his bed and sighed. "I wish I could get better quicker. I feel rotten still. I don't feel like sleeping anymore, but I get tired so fast. And I'm restless. There's nothing on tv that I want to watch during the day. And after dark I fall asleep. And I can't pay attention to video games either, for the same reasons. Fuck."

Spike bit at his lip for a second, then made a decision.

"I know a way that you can get better in a third the time."

Xander's head popped up and he gave Spike a fierce glare. "What? Trust you to keep secrets like that. What is it?"

Spike glared right back. "My blood. Vampire blood, especially the blood of a master, is healing."

Xander blinked then shuddered. "Well, that answers the other question. I don't see Giles letting Buffy snack around on you. No matter what."

Spike snorted. "No, he'd let her die before he'd let her take a chance like that. Only there's no risk of any sort."

Xander eyed Spike carefully for a moment. "What do I do? It's gross to the max, but I want to be well. I need to get back to work . . . um . . . and does this count towards being ‘good'?"

Spike snickered. "Yeah, pet, it does. Here." Spike bit into the vein in the joint of his thumb just under the ball. "Just a few drops is all it'll take. If the infection is deep seated, it might take more than one dose." Spike thrust his thumb at Xander as he spoke and nearly moaned as Xander took the wounded digit in his mouth and sucked. Spike mumbled, "Crikey!" and waited until Xander let go. "You should feel better soon."

Spike didn't look at Xander when he left the room. He leaned against the nearest wall and groaned. It had been incredibly erotic to feel Xander's warm mouth sucking on his cool flesh.

~ * ~

Xander watched Spike leave the room then stopped biting the inside of his cheek. It had been weird and really hot. The taste of Spike's blood on his tongue should have revolted him, instead he was hard. He addressed ‘Little Xander' "You stupid head. You'll get into trouble and drag me in with you. That's Spike you're all hard for."

Xander settled deeper into his chair and reached for the other item he prized--Willow's old Apple laptop.

When Willow had gotten a new laptop, she'd given the old one to Xander, telling him that it would help him with his homework. It hadn't, but he'd kept it by hiding it from his father. He'd almost forgotten that it was over one of the floor joists. Now he opened the thing and tried the power button.

It actually worked. It booted and the screen lit up. The first thing he saw was a warning that the battery was at 14%, so he rummaged around to see if he still had the cord. When he found it, he plugged it into the nearby outlet and settled to enjoy some fun. There were several games on the computer, mostly solitary, but there were also chess and checkers. He'd rather have video games but he wasn't up to keeping up with one just yet.

After playing cards for a while Xander got tired, but before he shut down he decided to just explore. If there were a lot of files he wouldn't use he could have Willow delete them to give him some more disk space. He wasn't too sure why but he knew that that was a good thing.

He poked around, figuratively speaking, for a little while. Then he stumbled across something he knew was good. It was a tutorial on how to use the computer. He decided to do the first lesson and keep at the rest until he knew what he was doing. Computer skills were a good thing, even in construction.

The lesson was easier than he thought it would be as the computer actually spoke to him and told him exactly what to do. Matching shapes and colors was one of his better skills and the letters didn't crawl around like they did on paper.

Before he finished the lesson, he noticed a file below the file he was using as a working file.

"Computer chips: Military issue. #MI3378561"