William woke up to his own coughing fit, the spasms wracking his body. He sat up shakily and looked around for Spike, but couldn't make out anything but blurs and shadows.

"Spike?" he called, disgusted by the weakness of his own voice. He wanted to try again, but another round of coughing took him.

"Bloody hell, Will, you sound like shite," Spike announced as he strolled into the office.

"You're always so sweet in the mornings," William rasped. He tried for a smile, but only got more coughs.

"Grab your stuff. We're getting out of here," Spike said, only he was already collecting William's things for him. Spike reached down to pick up the bag William had used as a pillow the night before, bringing his face right in front of William's - a face covered in angry red cuts and darkening bruises with one eye swollen almost completely shut.

"Jesus, Spike, what happened to your face?"

"Nothing that wasn't completely worth it."

Spike straightened up and William tried to stand, too, but struggled as his lungs spasmed once more. Spike bent back over to slip an arm under William's and help him up, and William noticed a flinch as his hand came into contact with Spike's stomach. Before Spike could stop it, William's hand was reaching out and lifting Spike's tee shirt to reveal bruises, lots of bruises.

William drew in a shocked breath, which only started the coughing all over again. Spike pulled his shirt back down and continued to support William on his right side as he slung their bags over his left shoulder.

"Are your ribs broken?" William asked.

"No," Spike muttered.

"Marion..."

"Leave off, Will. You can play the bloody nursemaid when we get there...if you can even hold yourself upright."

"Get where?"

"You'll see."

William was reluctant to leave the warehouse with its office because it might have been cold, but it was the safest, cleanest place they'd slept in weeks - but when Spike got it into his head to haul William around like a bloody doll, there was no reasoning with him.

Which was a relief as William's lungs spasmed again in a spate of coughing that left him without enough breath to reason with Spike.

"Hold up a mo." Spike leaned William against the wall, and rummaged through his coat, coming up with a familiar bottle of dark red syrup. "Have a slug of this, luv."

"Spike-" William got no further this time, inhaling a cloud of dust and coughing until the tears streamed down his face, and he choked on his breath, leaning helplessly against Spike until his lungs calmed again.

"Just one dose, Will. Got another bottle in my pocket." Spike's hand wrapped around William's, bringing the little plastic cup to his lips and tipping the foul liquid down his throat, rubbing until it all went down the right way.

William sniffed, still gasping for breath and frowned at the bottle. "You know you shouldn't. You'll get caught one day and then where will I be?"

Spike ducked his head, chewing thoughtfully on his lip and brushing his thumb back and forth at the nape of William's neck. "Still taking care of you, Will. If anything happens to me, I'll - make plans."

"I'd rather nothing happened to you."

"Nothing will." Spike kissed William's forehead, pulling him to his feet and steadying him. "All right, now?"

William nodded. "All right."

They only had to stagger two blocks to a main road before Spike could put them on a bus. They rode it for just a little over a mile into a commercial district, getting out across the street from a low-lying motel called The Shady Palm Lodge.

Finally able to support himself, William followed Spike across the street and toward the tiny motel office.

"Spike, what're we...? We can't afford..."

Spike just continued ahead, a bell chiming as he pushed in the glass door and held it for William. To see Spike from the back as he approached the reception desk, one would never guess that his face and body were covered in bruises. His bearing was utterly confident, telling the whole world that if it didn't like what it saw, it could just fuck right off.

"Need a room. King size bed."

"How many nights?" the tired woman asked in a tired monotone.

"We'll let you know."

"First night up front, then. Cash or credit?"

"Cash," Spike said, pulling a fat envelope from an inside pocket of his duster. He laid two dirty twenties on the counter and the woman handed him a key.

After settling William into the room, Spike left. He returned a few minutes later with a couple cups of coffee and a steaming cup of noodles to find William still on top of the blankets, arms wrapped around his knees, staring worriedly at the door. "Supposed to be under the covers, Will. You can't get warm on top of them."

"What have you done?"

Spike sat on the edge of the bed, passing William the noodles and a cheap plastic fork. He took a sip of the coffee and grimaced, licking his lips.

"And don't insult us both by playing dumb."

"Bloody hell, Will. I did what I had to, didn't I?" Spike flinched away from cold fingertips on the edge of his swollen eyelid, then hissed as William made a more accurate grab for his chin, turning his face to the light. "Nothin' illegal, strictly speaking."

"Street fighting is illegal, Spike!"

"Only if you get caught." Spike jerked his head out of William's grasp and stood, taking the steaming cup of noodles, which was still too hot to eat, and setting it on top of the television. "And I won, didn't I?"

"Not that I could tell from looking at you!"

"Will you just - shut your gob and be grateful? I did this for you!"

The silence following Spike's shout seemed to suck the air from the room, and William was the first to look away. "Do you think that makes me feel good, Marion? Seeing you hurting for me?" He didn't resist, though, when Spike pulled him into his arms, resting William against his chest and stroking up and down his back.

"Think it makes me feel good seeing you get sicker and sicker every day, Will? Come on, luv. I heal quick - let me take care of you like I promised. Yeah?"

"There's got to be a better way, Spike."

"Not that I've seen. But how about you focus on getting better and then I'll let you think of the brilliant plan? It's all about opportunities, yeah? You've got the brains, I've got the looks..."

William smiled and they finished the line together. "Let's make lots of money."**

"Did you pick up any first aid along with that cough syrup?" William asked. "Because if you don't let me fix your face, I'll be the one with the looks and the brains and then where will you be?"

"Git," Spike said, moving his hands down to tickle William's side.

"Pillock!" William giggled, squirming away.

"Wanker!" Spike laughed as William regrouped and retaliated, but then flinched as William's hand made contact with his bruises. "Ow! Fuck!"

"Shit, Spike, I'm sor - " But William started coughing and couldn't finish his sentence.

They fell back on the bed, Spike swearing as he held his ribs, William coughing with a hand across his heaving chest. After a few minutes, they both fell silent.

"We make a sorry, sorry pair," Spike said.

"Yes, indeed," William agreed. "But we do have cable. Shall we see what's on?"

"There any of those porn channels?" Spike leaned over William, snatching up the battered show guide from the night table.

"There's never anything good on them."

"There's tits."

William sighed. "But they're so fake. And the men are so hairy." He dropped down onto the mattress, curling back onto his side, and sighing when Spike scooted up behind him, wrapping his body around William's, warm and familiar and close.

"What'd you watch then?"

William flipped through the channels, pausing on something understated and English, then yelping when Spike snatched the remote from his hand.

"Had enough of that back home." He flipped several more channels. "Kung fu movie?"

"I should think you would have had enough of fighting for today," William grumbled, but he didn't complain. Too tired and warm to fight for a viewing of Sense and Sensibility, William snuggled back against Spike and pulled Spike's right arm around, making himself comfortable with it as his pillow.

Twenty minutes later, in spite of the high-pitched battle cries on screen, William was sleeping soundly. It worried Spike that William fell asleep again so quickly. It couldn't have been more than two hours since William woke in the factory and that wasn't a good sign. But William was sleeping now, without the twitches, mumbles, and coughs that shattered his rest in the cold warehouse, and it felt like days since Spike had last slept, so he pulled the blankets up over them both and closed his eyes. *Worry about it tomorrow. Get him fixed up proper. Tomorrow.*