Buffy very, very rarely got sick anymore. In fact, even if she tried with every still-working ounce of memory her brain possessed, she couldn't remember the last time she'd even had a sniffle, let alone a full-blown bout of the flu. She wasn't entirely sure, but that was what this felt like, anyway. She had a headache, her throat was sore, her stomach was so nauseas she hadn't eaten all day, and she kept getting the chills even though she felt warm all over. She was staying in her room to save anyone else the awful bug, but she'd pushed herself to go out on a short patrol earlier before finally collapsing into bed for good, making the board post at the same time.
The Slayer knew Heidi was a good person, but she jumped up about fifty notches when she offered to bring her up some ginger ale. That was a task that Buffy just couldn't bring herself to do on her own, and she was going to be forever thankful due to this one incident.
Picking her head up from the pillow against her bed, she spared a glance towards the door and managed to pry herself up from her horizontal position in order to answer it. To her surprise, Heidi was carrying much more than Nyquil and soda, and she moved aside to let her in right away.
"Wow, thanks," Buffy said rather nasally. "You pretty much brought an entire doctor's office, didn't you?"