Flesh and Blood

15

Buffy fidgeted relentlessly, as if she hadn't been rested and medicated the last few days. She had spent the better half of an hour watching Spike fight to stay with them. He was losing his battle. Restless, the blond stood up and pulled back the curtain of the dining room window. The moon served as a reminder of the night Isobelle was taken from her, and now it casts its light onto her lover, millimetres away from death. As the various greenery in the side garden was illuminated by the moonlight, Buffy couldn't help but dwell on how stubborn she was in the past. She refused to acknowledge Spike's feelings for her for so long, denying that she felt anything other than disgust towards him, and refused them the chance at a proper relationship, out in the open. Instead, she hid their relationship from her friends. Not only that, but the guilt she also felt for abusing him when she came back from the dead was rising within her, even though Buffy knew that Spike wasn't an innocent party during their relationship either.

"...I'm nothing like peaches..." Spike mumbled from the table. Buffy was at his side within seconds.

"Spike?" Buffy's heart filled with hope that he was finally waking up.

"...Fine, just peachy... peachy... Peaches everywhere!" he shouted as he flailed his arms and shot up.

"What are you doing?" Buffy's voice shook with anxiety. She didn't know how to react.

"What's it lookin' like I'm doin'? I've got to make sure I don't turn into peaches... Nobody likes peaches..." he rambled as he tried to stand. The right side of his body had seized, making it incredibly difficult for the vampire to hold his own weight. He stumbled into Buffy, who quickly wrapped her arms around him.

"You need to lie back down." Buffy gently placed a hand on his left shoulder and tried to guide him back to the table, failing because she refused to push harder. She didn't want to cause any more pain to him. Her lover was delirious; she couldn't make sense of him. It scared her. But at least he was conscious.

"No! You're not my mother! You can't tell me what to do!" Spike whined like a scolded schoolboy.

"Spike stop... You're going to hurt yourself—"

"Leave me alone! Peaches is evil! Evil, I tell you! No amount of syrup makes peaches less evil... Stay away from Buffy, peaches! Ya hear me? She doesn't want you! She prefers plums!"

Spike swatted her hand away and wagged his left index finger in her face. "Ah-ah-ah! Peaches needs to be stopped... Before the syrup gets stickier. That stuff is a tricky bugger to get out of clothes, ya know... It likes to hang around when it's not wanted..."

"Peaches?" Buffy raised a brow. Her worry turned into frustration as she tried to decipher whatever he was trying to say.

"Yes, peaches! Where have you bloody been for the last ten minutes, love?!" He looked her in the eyes and squinted as he focussed on the blond. His face twisted. "You've been poisoned, pet!" he gasped, his eyes widening.

Buffy chose to ignore his ranting. He was making no sense and would likely not remember this exchange—if he even survived. His face was dripping with sweat, and he looked like a cross between a drunk and a lunatic. The effects of Amy's Magickal poison were in full swing, but time was running out.

Clumsily, Spike tried again to rise to his feet, and his legs buckled beneath him. Luckily for the vampire, Buffy grabbed hold of him before he hit the floor.

"Come on Spike, let's lie you back down, okay?"

He wearily nodded his head and smiled. "Okay... Ooh, I love your hair today; its rather fetching," he mumbled, his jaw pressed up against Buffy's shoulder.