He cringed a little, but opened his eyes when he heard Willow's voice. He forced a smile as she dabbed at his face. "...sick?" A strangled breath shot from his throat as he spoke, his voice barely louder than a hoarse whisper. "This is...nothing. Xander Harris feels no pain." He was kidding, of course. And if he was feeling a little more stable, he probably would have stated it all with a big grin on his face and a mocking tone to match. But he didn't have it in him now. It was already taking a lot of his energy to look at Willow without crumbling entirely. She was worried for him, he could see it. And to be honest? He was worried about himself. But he was not going down. There was no way. After everything that he had been through, Xander Harris was not going to die because of some stupid disease. He wanted a bloody and painful death. One on the field. Not this. This wasn't even honorable. No soldier worth talking about died of severe illnesses. Not one.
"Pizza, right?" He was shaking now. There was no controlling it. "...and...Indiana Jones. And you have to do the lines with me."