RATING: G
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first.
DISCLAIMER: Buffy and Angel belong to Joss. If I owned them they'd be having a lot more fun. They'd be a lot happier, too.
DEDICATION: To Cass, I hope you feel better, hon. And to anyone who sent me feedback for the last story I wrote and didn't get a reply. I'm busy, I have no time, but I appreciate all the kind words. I know it's no excuse, but what can I say. I lead a hectic life. Thanks!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, if you have a better title, tell me. I hate the one I have.
Here's the challenge:
Buffy sick and angel taking care of her
Fluff, nothing but Fluff.
Smut is optional, but please, oh please, make me feel better
Three out of these:
M&M Slippers
Children's vitamins
Someone saying I'm gona die androt in a bed of worms
A spell
A furby
The song "GoodBye earl" by the Dixie Chicks.

The cast of Stomp was doing a sold out show inside her head. She felt like she'd been hit by a Mack truck, thrown thirty feet into the air only to hit the ground and be trampled by a herd of wild elephants chasing after the herd of wild horses that ran over her first. She was as hot as Louisiana at three in the afternoon in the middle of summer and every ounce of orange juice she drank returned for a surprise engagement five minutes later.

Buffy Summers was sick. Buffy Summers was miserable. Buffy Summers had never wanted to die more than she wanted to at that moment. And nothing was going to make her feel better. Nothing at all.

"I'm going to die and rot in a bed of worms," she muttered, taking off her M&M slippers and throwing them in anger and frustration. The slippers flew a few inches before landing on the end of the bed. Buffy couldn't even muster up enough energy to kick them off the bed. "And all the demons are gonna laugh 'cause the Slayer was taken out by the flu. I'll be the laughingstock of the supernatural world."

"You really are sick, huh?"

Buffy looked up at the voice and she smiled for the first time in days. "Angel!"

The vampire returned the smile and walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. "I know this is a stupid question," he said as she sat beside her on the bed. "But how do you feel?"

Buffy stuck out her lower lip and, in the most pitiful voice she could muster, said, "Miserable."

He smiled and placed a hand on her forehead, frowning slightly. "You've got a fever."

She nodded. "It won't go away," she said. She felt around the bed and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen. She held it up for his inspection. "*This* isn't working."

Angel smiled. "That's because," he began, taking the bottle from her and showing it to her. "*These* are children's vitamins."

"So, that's why they tasted like fruit," the Slayer, wonder in her voice. "And they didn't make me throw up when I chewed them." She looked closely at the bottle. "Hey! Fred Flintstone!"

Angel couldn't help but smile as he nodded, agreeing with her. "So, if you've been taking vitamins and not medicine, why are you so-"

"Loopy," Buffy finished for him. He nodded. "Willow. Spell. Baaaaaad."

"Well, that's one problem solved," Angel said dryly. The witch had called him a few hours ago babbling something about Buffy being sick and her never doing another spell as long as she lived. Remembering some of the things Buffy had told him about Willow's tendency to botch a spell now and then, especially the small ones, he'd gotten out of bed and rushed to Sunnydale. "Why didn't you call your mom?"

Buffy was seized by a sudden coughing fit, her second since Angel's arrival, and she didn't answer. "She's in New York," she replied when her coughing subsided. "Art buying."

Angel nodded and began to pull some things out of his bag. "What about Giles?" he asked, opening up a bottle of water.

"Weekend trip with Olivia."

Angel put three aspirin into her hand and held the water up for her. "Xander?"

Buffy swallowed the pills and leaned back against the pillows with a sigh. "Having sex with Anya," she answered, shuddering. "I wanna get well, not traumatize myself into lifetimes of therapy."

Angel smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "So, why'd Willow call me?"

"Because you make me feel better," Buffy replied, leaning into his touch. "Because she knows I love you."

"Or maybe because she knows I love you."

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes heavy lidded as sleep threatened to take over. "I love you, too."

Angel smiled. He tucked the covers around her. "Get some sleep," he said, brushing his lips against her cheek. "I'll be here when you wake up."

But Buffy shook her head. "I sleep, you sleep," she said, pulling him down beside her.

Knowing she wouldn't give up until she got her way, Angel nodded, slipping under the sheets beside her and pulling her close. "Now, sleep," he ordered, wrapping his arms around her.

Buffy snuggled against him, letting his cool soothe her and she drifted off to sleep, content and feeling better than she had in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, this cold wasn't going to kill her after all.

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