Chapter 11
Fuck. He’d fallen asleep again.
Spike let out a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. Where was his girl? Had she fallen asleep? He glanced around, scowling as he found her asleep in the fucking armchair in the corner. Mr. Fluffy was sleeping on the floor in front of her.
What the hell?
Why wasn’t she sleeping with him?
Getting up, he used the bathroom quickly and got dressed before standing in front of her. Could he lift her up? Would he wake her?
Damn it. She wasn’t sleeping there.
He’d wake her up in a minute. First, he searched out his phone. She’d hidden it, but he knew all her hiding places. He found it in her underwear drawer.
There were several messages that he went through, finally reading the latest one from Damon.
Damon: I’ve taken the men away for the day. I’ll keep them out late. Make sure Millie rests. I found her sitting at the top of the stairs, pale and shaking. Didn’t like it. Told her that if she doesn’t look after herself that I’m bringing you all to stay with me and I’ll take care of her.
Like fuck he would.Spike appreciated him looking out for his girl.
But that was Spike’s job.
Spike:I have her. Appreciate your help. Not needed.
Right.It was time for things to change.
Millie wokeup as she was jostled.
“Nooo, I don’t wants to go to school today.”
A chuckle hit her ears. “No school for you, baby doll.”
“Oh good. Wants to sleep.”
“That’s good, since that’s all you’re doing today.”
Wait. Who was that?
As she was placed down on her back, she opened her eyes, staring up into Spike’s worried face. She smiled.
“Daddy! I loves you.”
“I love you too.”
Then she frowned at how pale he looked. Suddenly, she realized that she was in bed. She hadn’t gone to sleep in the bed.
With a gasp, she sat up. “You carried me!”
“Yeah. Because you were sleeping in a damn chair. That’s not happening, baby doll.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said worriedly. She knew how he felt about her sleeping in chairs. “And you shouldn’t be carrying me.”
“I’m fine,” he told her.
Sure he was. Only problem was, he was pale and looked like he was in pain.
“Right now, the person I’m worried most about is you,” he added.
“Me? But Daddy, I’m good. I wasn’t in a car accident. I don’t have a concussion.”
“But you’re running yourself ragged. You’re exhausted and you’re going to end up with a migraine or passing out if you continue. Then you’ll be in the hospital.”
“That won’t happen.”
“Damon texted me.”
“Rats. That tattletale. Wait until I see him again.” She thumped her fist against her hand. “Snitches get stitches.”
“He did the right thing and you know it.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re spending the day in bed.”
“What? I can’t!”
He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a stubborn look.
Drat.
“I have to get your lunch. Do the dishes. The washing. And we have guests.”
“Guests who aren’t here and can take care of themselves. And everything else I’m capable of doing.”
Mr. Fluffy let out a woof as though in agreement.
“Whose side are you on?”
The dog yawned and rolled onto his back.
“Traitor.”
“Mr. Fluffy knows what is good for you. Now, I’m going to get you a onesie and a bottle. You can watch TV, read, or sleep. Those are your choices.”
“But you can’t go down the stairs on your own,” she protested.
What if he got dizzy?
Spike turned to look at her. “No.”
No?
What did that mean?
“You are not the boss. Daddy is. No fretting or worrying over me anymore.”
“But . . . but . . . I nearly lost you.” She didn’t mean to say that. It just sort of slipped out. But it was the truth. “And I have to take care of you. Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
His face grew soft and he walked over to her, kneeling on the floor beside her. Then he cupped her face with his hands.
“I know. And if I could erase all your worries, I would. But I’m all right. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I just . . . I get scared sometimes. When it hits me. Keeping busy helps me to forget.”
“Oh, baby doll.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and she patted his head before she started massaging his shoulders.
He groaned. “That feels good.”
“Yeah? I could give you a massage.”
Leaning back, he glared up at her. “Nice try. I’m looking after you.”
“But you’re always looking after me. I just . . . I want to take care of you too.”
“Looking after you makes me happy. I can’t relax knowing you’re running yourself ragged. So you being happy and healthy is the best medicine for me.”
“There’s some more Daddy logic,” she grumbled.
“But it’s working, isn’t it?”
“Kind of,” she admitted. “Just promise me . . . promise me you’ll always be here. That I won’t to lose you.”
“I promise. I will always be here. Always be yours. Just like you are mine.”
Fuck.
This was harder than he’d thought. He’d managed to going up and down the stairs to get Millie a bottle. He’d even put her in a onesie. But when he’d headed back downstairs, he’d had to sit and rest.
And he was still sitting on the sofa, resting.
He heard the front door opened and he glanced over as Damon walked into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Spike asked.
“Nice to see you too.” Damon eyed him before taking a seat in an armchair opposite him. “What’re you doing?”
“Just thought I’d go run a marathon.”
“Good plan,” Damon replied.
Spike closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. “I feel like shit.”
“Not surprising. You were in a fucking car accident.”
There was something in the other man’s voice. Concern? Anger?
Spike stared over at him as Damon glowered at him. “I know.”
“Yeah, you know. Do you have any idea, though, what it would do to the rest of us if something happened to you?”
Fuck. He hadn’t even thought about how Damon would feel about all this. How it might be affecting him.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he pointed out.
“Well, don’t do it again.”
“I’ll try not to.” Spike’s lips twitched. “Especially if you’re gonna go all mother hen on me all the time.”
“Mother hen?” Damon asked. “You won’t let me help with anything, asshole.”
“We’re fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re injured and you need time and rest to recover. And Millie is running herself ragged trying to give you that.”
“I’m taking care of Millie,” he told him.
“Good. Then let the rest of us take care of everything else. Let me help you, Quillon. You can’t look after her if you’re dead on your feet. You’re not a fucking superhero. You need help. I’m here offering help.”
Fuck it.
“Family helps each other. And we’re family, right?”
Spike sighed. Bastard had him over a barrel and he knew it. Spike needed help, he just really didn’t want to admit it.
“All right. You can help but only because Millie needs me.”
“Of course. Because of Millie. So, tell me what needs doing.” Damon stood.
“Yeah, all right.” He sighed. “Damon?”
“Yep?”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate the help.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Damon replied.
Yeah, he would. Because that’s what you did for family.