"Marion?"

"Yeah, pet. 'S me." Spike closed the door behind him - sat on the edge of the bed and slipped his hand into William's when he groped blindly over the covers. "Got your medicine. Paid for it and everything." He lay a hand - still cool from the wind outside - on William's forehead, stroked it over a flushed cheek as William moaned and pressed into the touch. "God, Will. You're burning up."

William twitched back the covers. "Come in and warm up."

"How 'bout I come in and cool you off?"

Spike's hand shook, already warm and damp with sweat from resting against William's cheek. He opened the bag, yanking the pharmacy instructions off the prescription bag and putting together William's inhaler. "Dunno if this'll work, pet, but it won't hurt. Will it?"

"God, I don't care. Give it here."

"Here, but hold on. Let me get in there and help you sit up, yeah?"

Spike toed off his combat boots, then stood to slip off the duster and toss it over a chair. Lifting William gently by the shoulder, Spike slipped in - cool and clothed - behind his brother's burning body and pulled William back against him so that he was leaning mostly upright.

"There you go, luv." Spike put his hand over William's on the inhaler as William tilted his head back and placed the spacer in his mouth. "Now exhale and get ready to take a nice slow breath..."

And William could have told Spike that he knew damn well how to use an inhaler at this point in his life. As a matter of fact, he'd had so many years of experience he could probably teach a bloody class on the subject. But William knew that his brother needed more than anything to be able to help him right now, and William was starting to worry that someday soon Spike's help was no longer going to be enough.

So William dutifully exhaled and pressed down to release the medicine as he breathed in nice and slowly.

"Hold your breath now, luv. Let it get in nice and deep."

And William held, in spite of the stinging in his throat, counting one... two... three... four... five... six... but unable to reach ten before he fell into another coughing fit - a desperate and bitter attempt by his lungs to forcibly eject themselves from his body through his windpipe.

Spike caught the inhaler, tossed it to the foot of the bed, and wrapped his arms around Will, burying his face in the damp curls above his neck where William couldn't see the tears in his eyes. Which was where they were bloody well staying.

William ran a shaking hand over Spike's forearm, his coughing subsiding to short spasms as he realized that the shaking wasn't his - this time. "Marion?"

"What?" Spike snapped and didn't lift his head.

Will turned his face to the pillow to cough, and smiled when Spike's fingers combed his hair back from his face. "I'm not made of spun glass, you know. People do get sick."

"I know that. 'M not daft."

"So don't worry."

Will listened to a wet sniff behind him, and tucked Spike's arm back against his chest.

"I'll worry if I bloody well want."

"Stubborn git," William muttered fondly, stroking Spike's hand with his fingertips.

"Bloody well hereditary, innit?"

There was an awkward pause. "I don't want to talk about him," William said tightly.

"Not him. Mum. Remember how she used to get when you got sick?"

William relaxed a bit, smiled. "Dear god, when I was eight, I actually feared she would smother me under the blankets and pillows."

"Surprised she didn't. And she made you eat all that foul chicken soup."

"God, yes! Who on earth ever convinced that woman she could cook?"

Spike laughed and shook his head. "Whoever it was should have been dragged into the street and shot. And remember that one time, when I tried to sneak you a Curly Wurly?"

"And she snatched it out of your hand and gave you that I'm-so-disappointed-in-you-Marion look..."

"And I slunk downstairs hanging my head in shame."

William giggled. "You know what I never told you, though?"

"What?"

"After you left, she unwrapped it and split it with me."

"Sodding traitor." Spike snorted affectionately against William's hair. "She read me the bloody riot act that chocolates would only make the cough worse."

"That's what she told me when I asked why I could only have half."

"A piece of work, was our mum."

"I miss her most when I'm sick."

"I know, pet. I haven't got half the bedside manner she did."

"You do all right." William hugged Spike's arm to his chest. When he closed his eyes and stroked Spike's fingers, he could almost believe they were his mum's, until he came to the scarred and scabbed knuckles that gave Spike away every time.

"I miss her too," Spike said at last. "Dunno how she took care of the two of us and herself. I can barely take care of us."

"With my help." William coughed against the pillow, then wriggled around to rest his head against Spike's chest, curling up against him.

"Right. With." Spike's voice was tight. He didn't want to think about doing it without Will's help. God, not yet.

A moment passed. "Mum should have had someone," William said softly.

"She had us."

"Someone else."

Spike scowled. "Not him."

"No, of course not him. But someone else. I mean, she must've wanted a bit of... adult conversation from time to time."

"Maybe it just wasn't her priority, Will. She would've found someone eventually."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Spike's voice made it clear that he did not like the direction of the conversation, but William pressed on.

"Don't you ever wish you had someone?"

"I have you, Will."

"Someone besides me. Am I the reason - ? I mean, is my being sick the reason that you never..."

"No," Spike said firmly. "Fucking no. Don't need that. Don't even ask that."

"Everyone needs that, Marion."

"Not me. Got you, haven't I?"

"I'm your brother. It's different."

"That's right. It is different. God, I'd be a right fool to give this up for a lousy piece of arse. You know that."

William was silent.

"You know that," Spike said again, laying his hand over William's. "You and me, that's how it goes."

"I do know. Of course I know." And William almost dropped it, but then: "It's just... I mean, haven't you ever seen someone and wanted... wanted..."

"Christ, is this about that boy you fancy? That it?"

"He's not a boy. And I don't fancy him," William mumbled, curling into himself. But Spike just wrapped tighter around him.

"Good. Because whatever you think is going on between you two, it isn't real. And it would never last. We're real, Will. You and me. And the rest can go hang, yeah?"

A moment passed before William answered.

"Yeah."

"You just forget about him, Will. Understand?" Another long moment. "Will?"

"I understand."