I'd heard the phone ring, but was to tired to get up and get it. Buffy's voice drifted through the air, something about Giles. I couldn't really seem to care. What I did care about was getting some air in my lungs. And for this headache to go away. Or, in face, for my entire body to stop aching. I had a hard time believing that one sodding germ could wreak such havoc. I'd survived, barely, getting my throat slit. Which was probably the reason my throat hurt more then it should now.
Darkness surrounded me again as the sweet voice floated away. The next thing I knew my headache had suddenly multiplied by a thousand. There as pounding and I couldn't seem to get it to stop. It took me a moment to realize that the pounding wasn't only in my head, but outside as well. Which was when I heard the voice of one Rupert Giles. Watcher extraordinaire. Bastard.
"Pryce! Open up! I know you're in there!" he shouted, and I had the urge to tell him to shut up. God, this was worse then a hangover.
"I can pry open the lock." Xander. And rather enthusiastic at that. But of course, he's been giving me the look of death ever since he found out about Buffy and I.
Oh god. That's why he was here of course. The faithful father demanding to know what I was doing to his daughter. It would’ve been hilarious, had I not felt like something a truck had driven over several times. Or something hell spat out after chewing carefully.
Sighing, I got out of bed and groaned as every muscle I could possibly have protested. Good lord, I wanted to die. Quick and fast. I groped around for my bathroom and stumbled down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet. By the time I reached the door, I was barely able to breath. No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't get any air in my lungs. I managed to open the door, and stare at the two standing there with obvious shock on their faces. Alright, I may look like crap, but its' not *that* bad is it?
Not that I had time to think about it. The next thing I knew the world started to spin rather violently before everything turned dark. All I recall is both Giles and Xander calling out my name. And I might have been dreaming it, but I think they may have caught me before my head hit the floor. Buffy would be so mad if I'd done that. Must thank them later.
"Wesley?" I pried my eyes open and winced at the bright light. I tried to take in my surrounding but the smell alone was a very good tip off. Christ no, they took me to the bloody hospital? My mouth opened several times to I could curse out one Rupert Giles hovering above my bed, but nothing actually came out. Might have something to do with the fact that there was this plastic mask over my face. And when I swallowed I could feel a tube down my throat. Great. Just...Bloody hell.
"Don't try to talk. You've got a very bad case of pneumonia. And completely against my better judgment, I've called Buffy. Just rest and then you can tell me what the bloody hell happened to you."
He...what? He called Buffy? Oh shit, I'm in for it now. I shook my head at him frantically, but he just smiled back at me. And that smile told me he *knew* exactly how much trouble I would be in. After all, she was his Slayer, he does know her best.
Sodding prick.
"And don't think for a moment the last of this has been said."