***

Willow was sprawled out on her bed, buried under layers of blankets. She sniffled miserably, wincing as that slight movement sent pain shooting through her temples. Her eyes rolled back into her head, and the only thing that kept Willow from screaming in frustrated agony was the realization that doing so would gain her nothing more than another flare of pain.

'And getting Angel out of Hell seemed like such a good idea...' Willow thought. Shame raced through her straight on the tails of that thought. 'But hey, I can handle a little pain for a friend... 'Cept this isn't exactly a _little_ pain. Big owie.'

It hadn't been all that bad at first. Willow had been so high on her feeling of triumph that the niggling ache in the back of her head hadn't even registered. And then she had been far too busy comforting Angel, being fawned over by Buffy and being worried over by Xander to bother worrying about such a tiny little non-problem.

At least, a had been non-problem. From that humble beginning, the ache in her head had exploded into a full blown migraine the first time she attempted to work a spell. Her dramatic collapse in the library had sent her friends into a height of fear that she'd never seen before.

She had been terrified that she had done something to her spell casting ability, that _her_ special something had somehow discovered that she wasn't good enough and had left her to become plain old nobody Willow once again. Giles had put that fear to rest, mostly, when he had explained that Willow's venture into Hell had overtaxed her. He had been chiding and awed all in one voice, but his words had assured her that things would be back to normal within a month or so.

'Which isn't any help _now_' Willow's mind wailed. Her head was becoming fuzzy, a not so unfortunate side effect of the herbal tea that Giles had concocted to combat the more debilitating aspects of her current condition.

'That is most definitely the last time that I'm ever going to Hell...'

***

The air seemed to crackle with energy in Sunnydale. The first hours that he spent within the borders of the town, a constant buzzing ran beneath every thought and action. It sang of power, and evil, and the Hellmouth itself. It was intoxicating in all of its possibilities.

Excitement had bloomed within him when that song had sprung up within his mind, that first time. It had seemed to speak of all the glorious possibilities that were spread out before them.

Spike scowled. At the moment, he wished that the Hellmouth's ridiculous song would shut the bloody Hell up. His head was still pounding from the energy that had flowed through him during Drusilla's attempted to retrieve their sire. 'May the bloody wanker rot in Hell for eternity!' Spike thought vindictively.

All thoughts of Dru and his sire fled from Spike's mind as he slid over the rail of Willow's balcony. He hesitated a moment, uncertain of his right to be approaching the girl. 'You were the one who decided that it was best to leave with Dru. I'm sure that I'm the last bloody person that Willow wants to see.'

He could still remember the sorrow in her eyes before he had left her for the last time, all those months ago. They weren't been the eyes of someone who hadn't cared. Spike feared that during his absence, the friendship they had shared had dissolved. 'Maybe Willow finally started listening to those friends of hers...'

He crossed the space to her door in a single step. He pressed his face up against the cool glass, peering into the darkened room. She was huddled beneath a pile of blankets, and Spike's enhanced hearing picked out the sound of her erratic breathing.

Worry drove away all of his reservations. "Willow?" Spike called out softly, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

Willow bolted upright in bed, her trembling hand flying up to cradle her head. Her shadowed eyes swung towards the door, and her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Spike?" she croaked. He nodded at her from behind the glass, waiting for her to rise and open the door. Her next words surprised him. "Come in."

Spike blinked. 'Come in?' He hesitated a moment, but the look of growing irritation on her young face drove him forward. The smell of peppermint hung heavy and cloying in the air. The cup, steam lazily drifting upwards, informed him of its' source.

He was at her side in moments, pushing aside the tattered bear next to Willow in order to sit next to her. He clasped her small hands in his cool ones. The moment her soft flesh met his, the babble that the Hellmouth emitted cut away.

"Willow? What's the matter?" Spike asked, his concern evident in his voice. Willow's face had a decidedly green tint to it. "And why isn't anyone here to take care of you?" his voice was strong with outrage at the thought of the poor girl suffering at home, alone, as her friends went on about their business.

"_Spike_?" Willow's voice wavered, so full of emotion that Spike nearly reeled back. Her free hand traced the edge of his jaw. Then, with a small mewl, she flung herself into his arms. Her face burrowed into his neck as Spike's arms wrapped around her.

"What's the matter, luv?" Spike repeated, his hands stroking at her back. The pajamas were soft beneath his palm, and, Spike absently noted, covered with sheep.

Willow mumbled into his neck. "I had a really awful headache. I told Buffy, Cordelia, and Xander to leave. They were just making it worse... It's funny, it suddenly doesn't hurt anymore." Her arms tightened around him. "Why are you back, Spike? You aren't... leaving again, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving, Willow. I... missed you. I had to come back and see you."

"Good," Willow mumbled. She pulled back from him, only to lean forward and gently rest her lips against his. The soft, brief contact seemed to last an eternity before Willow withdrew, flushing brightly. Spike looked at her, a disbelieving smirk on his face.

"Sorry... it's... the peppermint. Bad peppermint!"

Spike chuckled. "Nothing to apologize about, pet. I never complain about kisses from beautiful women." He drew her back into his arms, and her head wearily dropped against his shoulder. Her soft, even breathing tickled at his ear.

***

Cordelia shifted the thermos of hot peppermint tea from hand to hand as she made her way towards Willow's bedroom. Upon hearing that Willow wouldn't so much as hear of them staying with her, Giles had put Slayer and Slayerettes on 'Willow Watch' to ensure that she wouldn't be alone for long if she needed help.

Mostly 'Willow Watch' consisted of morning deliveries of more of the tea, and an evening check from one of them before they went in for the night. Seeing as Xander tended to be a bit too boisterous for a sick Willow in the morning, and Buffy was covering 'Angel Watch', Cordelia had been the one sent out that morning.

Once, the thought of playing nursemaid to a 'geek' would have horrified Cordelia. But now that said geek was a friend, Cordelia was willing to make an exception. Besides, she and the witch hadn't had much of a chance to talk since Willow had secretly thrown herself into her mission to get Angel out of Hell. It still amazed Cordelia to think of Willow accomplishing what she had.

'And maybe Willow will finally be up to that make-over. If those bags under her eyes get any darker...' Cordelia shuddered delicately as she carefully swung the door to Willow's room open. She came to an abrupt stop, a grin springing to her face as she took in the sight that met her eyes.

Spike's head was propped up by several pillows, and Willow's head was quite comfortably resting against his chest. The blinds were drawn tightly, leaving the room in a cave-like darkness. Even so, Cordelia could see Spike's eyes glinting at her through lowered eyelids.

'It's about damn time,' Cordelia laughed silently, backing out of the room. She would leave the thermos downstairs, and close all the windows in the house. She was sure that Spike wouldn't mind taking care of Willow at all.
 
 

~End~
There should have been more big 'Oh my God! _Spike_!' emotions from Willow, probably. But I made her sick, so... I hope that it still worked, though :)
 

next