A sort of estranged sense of normality stretched across the morning dew and lingered with each pair of eyes that wafted in an endless sea of uncomfortable silence. The concession into the dining room for the expected morning routine not downsized for any palpable cause; the Millers were as friendly as ever. They sat the breakfast on the table and, as they had every morning prior, left their guests to their own devices. The table itself was too full to seat two additional patrons as it was. Thus, and in loo of everything that had happened, the Scoobies took solemn seat at their decided spots, watching the Senior Staffers with both anticipation and concern.

One would have thought it an improvement that Buffy and Spike remained conspicuously absent; it only served to make Josh and Sam more nervous. Donna, who was still numb from the day before and her midnight realization that—yes, Spike was a vampire—sat in silence, a dazed, far-away expression on her face.
Despite the comfort of presence, it was a note of relief that Giles had not opted to make the trek across town and join them for breakfast. And no one really expected to see Toby for the remainder of the trip.

“So,” Wesley said, initiating a step forward after wafting in a period of general discomfort. “Did everyone sleep all right?”

Josh and Sam paused simultaneously in mid-bite and glanced up with dual stares of incredulity.

“Xander and I copulated several times over the course of the evening,” Anya offered with a smile. “And again preceding this morning’s breakfast ritual. I am still basking in my post-coitus relaxation.”

More silence. Harris groaned lightly but offered his girlfriend a smile of reassurance.

It was awkward pool—sitting and staring at one another. Unsure of what territory was common territory anymore. Willow cleared her throat and flashed the others consolatory smile. “Well,” she said with a slightly nervous laugh. “That was definitely inappropriate.”

“All things considered,” the former Watcher countered, pleasantries dropped, “I believe we can all use a form of distraction.”

Sam frowned and shook his head. “I don’t see why we should avoid the issue at all,” he replied reasonably. The look he received from Josh in turn did not follow that line of thinking, but he shrugged and turned his attention back to the others. “There’s nothing to hide anymore—and if there is, I really don’t think we want to know about it. If we’re going to be here, stuck together for an indeterminable amount of time, we might as well confront the elephant in the middle of the room rather than avoiding it.”

The redhead smiled tentatively and nodded her encouragement.

“We’re good at confronting elephants,” Josh muttered. “Especially when the world no longer makes sense.”

“Did you catch the briefing this morning?” Donna asked with interest. “Danny asked CJ if she had any new information on us, or why we haven’t been around.”

“Yeah, and her ‘that really has nothing to do with foreign policy’ remark made me feel real missed.” The Deputy Chief of Staff expelled a deep sigh. “She can’t really say anything until we know what’s going on. And at this rate…”

“None of us know what’s going on anymore,” Xander pointed out, still flushed from his girlfriend’s frankness but definitely willing to move on. “Giles started spewing a bunch of mumbo-jumbo last night and this stuff with the book, our being trapped in Natchez by a wall of nothing where the locals don’t seem to mind and Faith doing god-knows-what. Are we even still worried with her? I am completely lost.”

“Well, look on the bright side,” Josh retorted. “At least you’ve had this for more than thirty-six hours.”

“I don’t see what the big is,” Harris shot back. “You live, you work, there are demons and the occasional apocalypse. Buffy helps. Buffy saves the world. You go back to work. It’s always been this way. It was this way two days ago, and it will be this way tomorrow. Nothing has changed. Case closed.”

Willow scowled at him. “Case closed for us, yeah. We come from Sunnydale where, even before we knew about demons, there was the general acceptance that something was not right. I mean, our high school had a national mortality rate.”

Sam’s eyes boggled. “What?”

“We always just thought it was normal,” the redhead continued. “I’d never lived anywhere else. And yeah, finding dead guys in lockers is not exactly what one would call ordinary circumstances, but—”

“There were dead guys in your lockers?” Josh demanded, eyes wide. “Man. And I thought I had it rough in high school.”

Donna was staring at them. “And you thought this was normal?”

Wesley offered a thin smile. “In the world we come from, it was.”

The Witch shrugged in accordance and offered another nod. “Well, as Oz pointed out, it made a lot of sense, actually.”

“Who’s Oz?” Josh asked, perking a brow. “Is there some law in Sunnydale that says you all have to have names that are right out of the circus?”

There was a pause at that—Willow was effectively tongue-tied. Her face turned red and she glanced down helplessly. The subject itself was still sore but further in the stages of healing than anyone would have thought, given her disposition when they left California. And no one seated at the breakfast table could have any doubt as to who was responsible for that turn around.

But still. Oz was a big part of her life. To think of him as past made her uneasy.

“Oz was a werewolf,” Anya said diplomatically. “He used to date Willow.”

“A werewolf?” Donna about choked. “A werewolf?”

“There are werewolves now?” Josh reiterated, equally unglued. “And the pile of things that Leo has yet to tell me continues to stack higher.”

Sam’s eyes were wide, almost crestfallen. “You dated a werewolf?” he asked, voice small as though such was a statement of character. “Okay. Now I’m having a complex.”

“Where is Fido now?” the other man asked, reaching for the biscuits. “Why aren’t you two off making a bunch of puppies somewhere?”

“Josh,” Donna berated, flashing Willow an apologetic glance.

“You do realize we’re talking about a werewolf, here. As in those things that you see at Halloween and in Michael Jackson music videos.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Sam threw his napkin into his plate and sent his colleague a long, exasperated look. “We’re talking about a lot of things that none of us expected to ever talk about. Vampires, witches, slayers, demons—is it so radical, with that list, to throw in werewolves? You keep talking about them as if they don’t exist.”

“Well, before I came here, they didn’t!”

“It is difficult to grasp,” Wesley said, holding up a hand. “And we’re sorry that we had to get you involved. The entire matter is extremely unfortunate. However, to understand, or even help us at all, you have to look beyond the given of the past thirty years and accept what is and always has been. Your government is obviously a part of it. I’ve actually heard rumors that their connection to the demonic world goes back even further than this Initiative would suggest. But the truth of the matter is, the world does go on. It hasn’t changed—you have simply been granted new information to apply to it. It is exactly the same as it was before you left. The difference being you now know something that you did not know before.”

“What about you guys?” Donna asked softly. “Are you still looking for Faith? I’m confused…I still don’t see why the authorities aren’t involved—”

“You’d understand if you ever saw Buffy in action,” Xander commented. “Slayers are strong.”

“But Buffy’s so small,” the blonde objected, as though it mattered anymore.

“Buffy’s size is what boggles your mind?” Josh asked, perking a brow. “Not the fact that we’re eating breakfast with a witch, a demon, and a guy who works at Hogwarts?”

“Former demon,” Harris was quick to clarify.

Wesley cleared his throat. “It was the Watcher’s Council,” he clarified. “And I do not work for them anymore. I am a rogue demon hunter.”

Donna frowned. “What’s a rogue demon?”

“I really must stop saying that…”

“The Faith thing is complicated now,” Willow began, drawing everyone’s attention back home. “We came here thinking she was the reason we’re here. We didn’t plan it; it just sort’ve happened. She was our problem, so we were gonna fix it. No big. Now Giles thinks that Faith is just what brought us here—that we’re here for something else. Or maybe Faith was brought here for something else and we just ended up getting in the way. It’s complicated.”

“And he thinks all can be solved by flipping through that book?” Josh asked.

Xander smiled wryly. “You’d be surprised.”

“Really, at this point, I don’t think I would be.”

Sam’s eyes went wide and he turned to Willow suddenly. More and more, their conversations were becoming verbal boxing matches with the individual players trading off as moderators. “Where is Buffy?” he asked, voice overly loud. “Is she helping Giles, or…?”

“No.” The redhead frowned. “She and Spike made an early night of it, I thought. She was wiped and Spike wanted to get her in bed.”

Xander gaped at her. “Willow!”

“To sleep!” she protested, but it was to no avail. The table had taken the innuendo and run with it.

“Yeah, I’ll bet he did,” Josh agreed.

“She could do worse,” Anya added reasonably. “I know that my sexual prowess gained momentum after a hundred years or so. And vampires have amazing stamina. I’m sure Buffy will not be displeased in the orgasms Spike can give her.”

“Ahn, can we please not use the words ‘Buffy’, ‘Spike’, and ‘orgasms’ in the same sentence?”

Josh turned to Sam with a small, bemused grin. “You know that sticky-wicket that we were looking at?”

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, no. The Republican Leadership would flip.”

“When do they not?”

Donna shook her head and looked back to Willow. “I don’t understand the hostility about Buffy and Spike,” she said. “I know it has to do with his being a vampire, but I don’t get why that is worse than being a demon or a witch. You said your old boyfriend is a werewolf. I just don’t understand why Spike’s the odd man out.”

The redhead opened her mouth to reply, but Xander leapt in. A madman to intercept a canon before it exploded across the table.

“He’s not a man,” he said adamantly. “At all. Vampires aren’t human. Willow’s human. She’s a witch, but she’s human. Same with Oz. And Anya. She’s not a demon anymore. Spike isn’t human. He’s dead. He has no soul.”

Josh cocked a brow. “So tell us how you really feel.”

Donna still looked confused, and with good reason. She frowned and gestured broadly, digging further into a tangle that no one was yet prepared to unwind. “So…if Spike were to become human, you wouldn’t have a problem with him?”

“Vampires can’t become human.”

“But if he did?”

There was a considerable silence at that. Willow arched her brows and turned to her friend curiously. Anya was also watching with some interest. After all, if he denounced the Slayer’s right in that regard—should there be an interest, and all had pretty much agreed there was—then he would be in serious conflict with his own moral standings.

“I don’t know,” Xander replied at last, voice somewhat calmer. “I…my problem with Spike might be…” He trailed off numbly—unsure how to finish. If there was a way to finish. Another silence settled on the room; he appeared genuinely befuddled at this. Unnerved by the weight of his own prejudice, and had nothing more to say on the matter.

Donna glanced back the Witch, who nodded hurriedly. It seemed continuously up to them to drag everyone out of the trench when it seemed they were getting ready to bury themselves alive. “So,” she said brightly. “A witch, huh?”

Willow pursed her lips and paled a bit, but offered a quiet nod and smiled. “Yep. That’s what they tell me.”

The topic was well placed and succeeded in drawing everyone back to the more tangible matters at hand. And true, while the redhead didn’t entirely enjoy being the center of attention, she was getting better at mastering the art of not caring all too much.

“You do spells, huh?” Josh said, acknowledging without words that the question was inane but similarly moving to a dismissal of apathy. “That’s…weird.”

The Witch smiled faintly. At least he was trying. “Yeah,” she replied. “Spellcasting typically falls under the guidelines.”

“I always thought that witchcraft was a religion, not a practice,” he observed, visibly straining for conversation, even if it was ultimately appreciated. “Couple girls back in school were into that stuff. They never did anything involving spells.”

Donna frowned. “How do you know?”

“Too many bake sales. There was no way they had time to actually do spells.”

“Maybe the spells were to do the bake sales.”

“No,” Willow intervened, “he’s right. Most of the ‘witches’ that you meet aren’t real witches, so to speak. Like my Wicca group back at UC Sunnydale is kind of the same way. There are people who follow the religion, and there are people who practice it.” She shrugged. “I practice it.”

The blonde woman was studying her with intrigue. “Is it hard? The kind of witchcraft that you practice?”

Willow smiled in turn. “Well, you know that gray area between brain surgery and nuclear physics?”

“So yes.”

“Donna,” Josh said warningly.

“It takes patience, resolve, and control.” The Witch paused and licked her lips, casting her friends a long, pointed look. “Three things that I’m still working on. It can be disheartening. I mean, I’ve been in the practice for almost three years now and I still have trouble with a lot of my spells.”

Harris grinned in spite of himself. “That’s putting it mildly, Will.”

“Okay, so my magic goes wonky.”

“She cast a spell that made Xander a demon magnet,” Anya interjected.

Sam glanced at Willow askance. “Why would you do that?” he asked, almost fearfully. As though her being in possession of such power made it all the easier for her to seek revenge on those that wronged her.

“I didn’t mean to,” she argued. “It was after Oz left. I was hurting and I wanted the hurt to stop, s-so I cast a spell that my will be done. A-and it worked. Only the hurt didn’t go away—I accidentally made Giles blind, Xander a demon magnet…and Buffy and Spike were engaged for about two hours.”

“I don’t think that last one is too far off the mark,” Wesley muttered.

“That’s not all,” the former demon argued. “Willow debated tampering with dark magic when she found Oz and Veruca naked together.”

The Witch’s head dropped into her waiting hands. “Thanks, Anya.”

“Dark magic?” Donna echoed, eyes wide. “As in—”

“Hey, I was going through something.”

“Who’s Veruca?” Sam asked.

“Another testament as to why the people of California have names that sound like new variations of illegal drugs,” Josh suggested, wincing as Donna elbowed him.

Willow glanced to Xander and shook her head. Her friend very palpably didn’t know what to make of that shake, and thus interpreted it as means of continuation because the matter was still too touchy for her.

“She was a werewolf, too,” he explained. “She and Oz…”

“So you cast evil black magic on your boyfriend because he cheated on you?” Josh demanded before turning to pat Sam’s shoulder. “Watch out, buddy.”

“I didn’t actually do it!” the redhead objected.

Donna shrugged. “I would have. You have no idea how many times I wanted to curse my ex-boyfriend.”

The Deputy Chief of Staff’s eyes twinkled. “Was this before or after you left me to go back to him?”

“Shut up.”

“What’s that?” Wesley asked.

“Nothing. It’s a thing with them,” Sam replied, turning back to Willow. “How long ago was this?”

She licked her lips. “He left about…I don’t know…we had so many things happen at once. But I cast the Will Be Done spell not too long ago. It was right before Faith came out of her coma and swapped bodies with Buffy. I went to his room and he had sent for his things…he left Sunnydale to try to find a cure for his wolfiness. I don’t know…”

“So…” The Deputy Communications Director frowned. “You two are still together?”

“No. I don’t know where he is.” She glanced down. “I don’t know if he’s ever coming back. And…I just don’t know.”

“Is there any way you could teach me some spells?” Donna asked, drawing her attention away from the past and Oz and to an area of growing bemusement. The woman appeared genuinely enthralled. Josh appeared horrified. “Like how to make coffee or type memos or fight inflation?”

Sam cracked a grin at that. Josh’s horror turned into a scowl. “Yeah,” the latter said, taking a sip of his cooling coffee. “Teach Donna how to wield magic. That doesn’t spell disaster in any way.”

She frowned. “You’re such a downer.”

“Well, up until recently, you were freaking out about a ghost cat!”

“Yes, and under the circumstances, I believe I was not wrong to raise the issue as a State concern.”

“You’re impossible,” he complained good-naturedly.

“Impervious,” she corrected. “And I’m not wrong. Look at what has happened. Firstly, we now are aware that the paranormal exists. Secondly, we’re stuck because of aforementioned paranormal forces. Thirdly, Sam has potentially initiated the apocalypse.”

“Hey!” the accused interjected.

“It’s just ‘an’ apocalypse,” Xander corrected. “We’ve faced too many apocalypses to give any one too much credit. Buffy thwarts them.”

“Then they’re not really apocalypses,” the blonde pointed out.

“A-and we don’t even know what Sam did,” Willow said. “It might be nothing.” The Scoobies looked at her dumbly. She flushed and glanced down. “Okay, so it’s probably a very big something, but that doesn’t necessarily mean apocalypse.”

“Now all we need is Donna trying to make magic coffee and accidentally sending nukes to North Korea,” Josh retorted with a grin.

“In any regard, we should probably head over and see if Rupert has found anything,” Wesley said, standing diplomatically. “I trust him to phone us, of course, but we cannot be increasing the productivity by sitting around and squabbling about things. I suggest we adjourn to the Eola Hotel before deciding on a mode of operation.”

Willow nodded. “Agreed. But someone should go get Buffy and Spike.”

“Why Spike?” Anya asked. “He can’t go anywhere. It’s sunny.”

“Well, we should go get Buffy.”

A silence fell over the table. No one truly wanted to approach the townhouse. While the chances were good that they wouldn’t find anything incriminating, the very thought that they might was enough to set some people round the bend. And true, the Senior Staffers didn’t really know why such a match would not be fortuitous, they thought it best to avoid the matter altogether.

Finally, Xander drew in a breath. “I’ll go.”

The redhead’s eyes went wide. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Maybe I—”

“Don’t worry. I’ll act like a sane person.” He smiled thinly. “She’s Buffy. And yeah, while I don’t approve of much of anything she’s done lately, I’m gonna try to remember that my not liking Angel didn’t help one bit in the ‘her dating him’ department.”

“Angel?” Josh asked. “A guy named Angel?”

“A guy vampire named Angel.”

“Man, I’d’ve hated to be him on the playground in the third grade.”

Donna quirked her head. “Angel is a vampire, too?”

“And an entirely different story that Wes can explain while I head into the line of Don’t Wanna Go There.” He stood and made his way to the exit just as swiftly. “Be back in a sec.”

He was gone. And all eyes fell on the former Watcher, even those that already knew the tale.

A sigh escaped his lips. “Well,” he began, “odd as it sounds, Angel’s relationship with Buffy started in 1898 with the body of a murdered virgin and the curse of her gypsy clan…”

Josh glanced to Donna. “We’re gonna be here for a while,” he said.

*~*~*

Every breath he took lingered with the sweet scent of vanilla. He didn’t need to breathe, of course, and more often than not, he didn’t know why he did. A habit that refused to die with his body. One habit of many. It was a passing whimsy—he hardly even noticed when he did it anymore. Except sometimes, she would get a funny look on her face as though contemplating that very thought. She would quirk her head at him for a minute, open her mouth with words he could taste ready on her tongue, then decide against it and move on. He didn’t know when he had started noticing that; now, like his breathing, it seemed habit.

Spike smiled, basking in the feel of this. It took very little for the night to return to him. The night and all the glorious things that had come with it. The hint of raspberry tainted the air from where the candles had burned to a shallow end. They had enjoyed the dessert together, seemingly hours after they withdrew from the simplicity of a warm embrace.

She was all around him. Even still. Now. They had retreated into the den god-knows-when and discovered that one of the older television stations was running a Monty Python marathon, followed by shorts of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. It would have been easy for Buffy to impose space between them; there was another moderately comfortable chair on the other side of the room. But at her suggestion, she had led him to the sofa-bed he had used not too long before and curled up behind him. Her head resting at his chest, her arm wrapped around his middle. Her body quivering with chuckles whenever John Cleese and Terry Gilliam spoke. She began to doze off during Chaplin’s ‘The Kid,’ and awoke toward the end with a sigh of resignation before moving to depart for her own room.

“No,” he had whispered urgently, pressing a kiss against her cheek, then again to the pulse of her neck. “Stay here.”

“I—”

“Please, Buffy. Stay with me.”

It was obvious she hadn’t wanted to move in the first place. With their relationship undefined, though, and the barrier set by both, she didn’t know what was and wasn’t permissible until they decided to cast reservations aside. She had smiled at him gratefully and brushed her lips against his cheek in turn, then settled and dozed back to sleep.

Which was why he was waking with his golden goddess in his arms. Sleeping on the sofa couldn’t have been as comfortable as she was making it look. Her head was at his chest still; an arm still draped around his middle. His own had wound around her waist and itched up the hem of her shirt so he could feel the warmth of her skin. The television was no longer on, which he found odd as he had no memory of turning it off. It didn’t matter, though. Nothing mattered. He had Buffy in his arms. Nothing could ever matter if not for that.

And…was that Xander coming around the back?

Spike’s eyes went wide, body clenching and arms around his girl tightening inexplicably. If the boy walked in and saw the Slayer cuddled in his arms, words were going to fly and none of them would be pretty.

He had to get her to the back. And fast.

The vampire drew in a deep breath and started to rise, only to be forced back by a sleepy murmur and a tightening of arms around his middle. Buffy crooned a bit and rubbed her cheek against him kittenishly, flexing to find a comfortable position and sighing with contentment before she rested again. That was all it took. Spike’s urgency deflated, and he reclined once more.

If Xander wanted to throw a fit, he wouldn’t stop him.

Well, not unless he started yelling and disturbed Buffy’s slumber. The vampire had no earthly idea when last the Slayer obtained a decent night’s rest, and they had stayed up fairly late watching movies. She deserved this.

There was a light rasping at the door. “Hello?”

Spike licked his lips. Neither he nor Buffy had a habit of locking the doors. They did it when they remembered to, but she was strong enough to fend off anyone who fancied breaking in. And unless they wielded a wooden stake or were hell-bent on setting people on fire, there wasn’t much damage an intruder could inflict upon him.

Meaning, in Laymen’s terms, that nothing prevented Xander from walking right on in.

Which was exactly what he did.

“Hey, Spi—oh.” He stopped dead in the doorway. The vampire winced a bit at the light, but the veranda was at such an angle that the sun had no chance of seeping through the entrance. “I…uhhh…what the hell?”

“Pipe down, White Bread,” the Cockney retorted. “Slayer’s sleepin’.”

“Yeah…doesn’t she have her own bed?”

“Fell asleep watchin’ flicks, s’all.” He shrugged as best he could without disturbing her. “Din’t wanna bother her. ‘Sides, after yesterday, was right worn out, myself. Anyway, ‘f she wants to have at me later for actin’ ‘indecent’ or what all, that’ll be her fare. Don’cha think?”

Xander didn’t say anything. His eyes were taking in the coziness of the scene. He wet his lips and nodded, visibly fighting to keep himself from making an outburst. It was surprising in that sense; Spike would have figured him to cast all protocol aside and go in for the kill. He didn’t. He just nodded.

Spike gestured broadly with his free hand. “’S there a reason why you’re here?”

A pause. Harris blinked dumbly and shook his head. “Oh, right. Ummm, we’re all heading to the Eola to see if there’s been any progress on the book or what the hell’s going on.”

The vampire arched a cool brow. “Don’ you think Rupert’d call ‘f there was?”

“Yeah, well, it’s better to be doing something rather than just waiting.” Xander shrugged. “Ummm. When Buffy wakes up, let her know where we are. ‘Kay?”

Spike couldn’t believe his ears. “Sure.”

“Right. Thanks.”

That was it. He turned and left the next minute, shutting the door behind him.

The vampire sat dumbfounded for endless seconds. “Bloody bizarre that was,” he muttered, running a hand through the Slayer’s hair.

At first, he thought it was that subtle movement that jarred her awake. She yawned softly against him and stretched with a low moan before sitting up. When he saw her eyes, he banished all worries of having been the cause of her disturbance. It was obvious that she had been alert for some time.

Which perplexed him even more. As a vampire, he was generally attuned to these things.

“Yeah,” she said, twisting to gaze out the window before looking back at him with a small smile. “I figured he’d start screaming curses.”

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

“Good morning.” She preened against him and released a sigh of content. He wondered fleetingly if he was still asleep and the real morning had yet to begin. “You’re all cuddly.”

The notion should have offended him. Really, it should have. The Big Bad…cuddly? No sir, not this Big Bad. No way. No how. Huh uh. And yet, that sentiment didn’t match the flood of warmth that kissed his insides. He couldn’t find it within himself to be offended when the words made him so bloody happy. Sodding nancy-boy ponce. “Cuddly, am I?”

“Mhmm. I feel like I’ve been sleeping for two days.” She yawned in direct contradiction, and he found it adorable. “Which is strange, because this couch isn’t that comfy. Did you sleep all right?”

“Never better.”

“I wasn’t crowding you at all?”

He smiled. “’ve never been more comfortable in my life, pet. ‘Sides, ‘m the one who asked you to stay.”

“Ask me again, ‘cause I don’t wanna get up.” She defiantly laid her head upon his chest once more. “We’ve done a bajillion sweeps of this town. If Giles finds something, he finds something. He’s just gonna get cranky and send us away.”

Spike’s smile turned devious and he ran his tongue over his teeth in a manner that had her skin blushing prettily the next second. “Wanna play hooky?”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“The baddest, baby.”

“And, much as I’d like to, we should get ready and go before Pod Xander gets beaten up by Real Xander.”

He barked a laugh at that, making no move to let her up. “How long’ve you been awake, sweetling?”

“About twenty minutes longer than you.”

He scowled. “How the bloody hell did I not know this? Vamp senses my—”

Buffy shrugged with a small, secretive small. “What can I say? Feminine ingenuity.” Then, to top it all off, she leaned up and brushed a kiss across his lips. Small and familiar; like old lovers waking up after many mornings just like this.

They froze at the same moment, seemingly recognizing the significance on the same wave level. And Spike couldn’t help himself. Emotion stormed his eyes and seized his reason.

She was blushing again; looking anywhere but him. “I…”

“Buffy,” he gasped, fisting her golden locks and pulling her mouth to his. This touch wasn’t nearly as domestic; his tongue tackled hers, tasting her to the fullest. God, there was never enough of this. Never enough. He had never felt such ardent passion for someone in the course of his existence. Not anyone. It poured into every touch they shared, every caress, and had them gasping for air within seconds.

“You kissed me,” she said obviously, regaining some ground.

“Well, you kissed me first.” He nuzzled her hair. “Thought kissin’ was all right now.”

“It is. Definitely is. It’s just…I have morning breath.”

Spike smothered a grin. She was adorable. “Don’ care,” came the answering murmur before he pulled her down for another long kiss. “Bloody perfect the way you are.”

“Why do vampires not have morning breath?”

His grin softened and he ran a hand across her cheek. “Don’ have breath, don’ have its variations. Simple as that.”

“You guys have it too easy.”

“Yeh. Easy’s the word. Can’t go out in daylight, can’t go in some place unless invited firs’. Have to put up with the rot of myth an’ the like by hack writers an’ Hollywood producers.” He smirked. “Have to put up with the Slayer.”

“Yeah. This Slayer’s really scary where you’re concerned.”

“Bloody push-over,” he agreed.

“Hey!”

“An’ she’s completely hot for me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes as her blush deepened. “Get bent.”

“Bend you over somethin’ one of these days.”

“In your dreams.”

He winked. “Only the best ones, luv.”

“We better get ready.”

“Can’t go anywhere.” Spike pointed to the ceiling. “Sun’s out.”

Buffy’s face fell a little at that. He shared her sentiment. There was very little they had done separately since arriving in Natchez. Since having that fight the first night. And, truth be told, he wasn’t at all wild about the notion of sending her out with her very biased friends when he couldn’t be there to counter accusations. Not that her resolve wasn’t every bit as strong as his was; he just didn’t care what they thought. She did. She cared a lot, and the thought that the Scoobies could potentially get in the way of whatever was happening between them burned him to no end. “Oh, right,” she said at last, crawling to her feet slowly. “Okay, well…”

“’ll make you breakfast ‘f you wanna shower.”

She stared at him. “You will?”

Spike shrugged. “Sure. Think we have pancake mix. An’ maybe some leftovers from last night.”

“You’re gonna cook for me?”

“What’d I jus’ say?”

Buffy shook her head. “Well, now I know the world is ending.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ve found a man who will cook for me and doesn’t mind my morning breath.”

“You forgot ‘dead sexy,’ ‘world’s best kisser,’ an’ ‘delectably shaggable.’”

“Did I mention he has an ego the size of South America?”

Spike shrugged, unable to stop grinning. “Oi. That’s nothin’ compared to the size of his—”

“I’m showering now.”

“An’ that image will give me somethin’ to think about when I’m showerin’.” He winked again as her flush deepened even more, if such was possible. This was a side of the Slayer that no one had seen before. No one. It had to be. And it was all his.

“Toddle off, now,” he said a minute later after his teasing pretense dropped, nearing to brush her forehead with a kiss. “’m gonna start on your pancakes.”

Buffy paused and licked her lips as though to say something, but decided against it the next minute. Instead, she offered a quick nod and disappeared into the back toward her room without another word.

Spike smiled to the empty den and cast a hand through his hair.

These past two days had been the best of his life. The absolute best. And despite all his happiness, he was terrified. They were in at the start of a potential apocalypse. There was no telling what that meant. What would happen when the sunny skies were overwhelmed with clouds once more.

He wouldn’t lose this without a fight.

And if any of the wretched Powers That Be tried to take her away, he would sure as hell give them one.

TBC

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chapter 23

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