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Though he felt Buffy’s breathing become even after only a few minutes in his arms, Spike couldn’t go to sleep. It might have had something to do with the hell of a day he’d just had, not to mention the fact that his loony bint of an ex was in the next room over, or perhaps it was the definite pain he still felt from that bullet graze...but he thought it had more to do with the girl in his arms.

She was so soft right now, so utterly adorable as she slept. Who’d have guessed that when she was asleep, his little spitfire turned into a cuddly kitten? When she was awake it was clear as day that she had an attitude. She was one of those bronze-balls types. But now that sleep had taken her, she looked so bloody vulnerable that he just wanted to hold her and never let her go.

And her hair...God, he loved her hair. It shone even now, in the moonlight, and it felt so very soft under his lips. For a moment, and image flashed through his head: Buffy, naked, with her hair down all over her breasts and back, riding him for all she was worth.

He shivered and felt his erection grow even stronger—which made him scowl. How the sodding hell did she make him so vulnerable? Just the thought of her could get him raring to go, which was pretty damn awful, since she was lying in his arms as trustful as a babe. There was absolutely no way he’d be takin’ advantage of her in the position.

And there was another thing. When had he become so chivalrous? Last time he’d checked, he’d been a wham, bam, thank-you-ma’m type. Sometimes not even botherin’ with the thank you. What was it about this girl that made him so different from how he usually was. So...

Better, mate? that voice in his head whispered. No, not better. More like infinitely confused, he thought. She’s turned me into a complete ponce. Got her in the bed, admitting she’d like to be naked with me, and what do I say? I tell her I’d like to just be close to her! I’m acting like—

Suddenly his thoughts screeched to a halt. Slowly, unsurely, he traced back through his line of thought: Buffy made him a ponce. He was a ponce because he had a girl in his bed and told her he just wanted to sleep. That meant that he was acting like...shock raced through his system as he inevitably came to the same conclusion.

“Like I’m in love,” he said softly.

Buffy stirred in his arms, and for one terrifying second, he thought he’d awakened her—but no, she was just turning over in her sleep. Now she was nuzzling his chest in a manner that made him almost lose his breath.

God, she was beautiful. From those incredible eyes, currently closed to showcase long lashes, to her luscious lips that he knew from experience tasted like heaven—everything about her was absolutely perfect.

Damn it.

He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t even really wanted it. He’d fallen in love with a cop—well, former cop—who also happened to be his secretary, and who had just gotten over a bout of hating him so much she wished the most painful death possibly upon him. If you were to look up the definition of ‘unattainable’ in the dictionary, you’d see her bleeding picture.

“Spike, you are one buggered-up puppy,” he muttered to himself.

“Mmph,” Buffy muttered in her sleep. Her hands scraped his chest gently, finally coming to settle on his shoulders. “Mine,” she muttered, presumably still asleep.

Spike’s heart felt like it was about to stop in his chest. Had she meant it, or was she dreaming about something else? There was no way to tell, and realistically, Spike knew that even if she had been thinking about him, she might not even remember the dream when she woke up. Hell, she might not want to.

There was nothing he could do about this new condition—yeah, that’s what he’d call it, a condition—of his ‘till at least morning. He sighed and grumbled before pulling Buffy into his arms and falling into an uneasy sleep.

~*~

It was the sunshine that woke her. Warm, beautiful sunshine that, though it seemed weird in the black-painted room, made Buffy feel warm and happy inside.

The first thing she saw was the rubber ducky sheets. That made her smile. The second thing she saw was the man cradling her in his arms, which made the smile melt into a soft, happy sigh.

It was funny, but she hadn’t pegged Spike as the cuddly type; he seemed to her to be more love ‘em and leave ‘em. But the whole night long, he hadn’t tried anything.

If it was possible for hearts to melt, Buffy’s was going like chocolate in the sun.

She reached out a finger and traced his features. The sun warmed his usually pale skin to the palest golden honey. His features, always so hard and uncompromising when he was awake, had softened. He didn’t look cute, exactly, but he did look vulnerable and almost childlike, lying there.

Buffy grinned suddenly. He may have looked childlike, but he was sporting stiffage that would have put many a man to shame.

She traced his eyebrow, wondering for about the billionth time where he’d gotten that scar. Had it hurt? She hoped not. The thought of Spike hurting made her tummy twist inside.

And therein lies the problem, she thought with a mental grimace. Stupid heart. Stupid body. They’d both teamed up against her brain in an effort to get her to trust Spike. Her body wanted his, even now, and her heart was insisting that he could be trusted. Her affection for him was getting to the point that she found even his dumb habits, like smirking and raising his eyebrows, incredibly endearing.

Jeez. What was her deal, anyway? Half the time she couldn’t stand to look at him, he bugged her so much, and the other half he was driving her up the wall with the need to kiss him. She was starting to think she was insane.

The eyes that she’d been gently tracing around opened and stared at her. Buffy gulped. Good God his eyes are blue. And the expression in them...so soft, so wonderful.

“Thinking ‘bout something, pet?” he asked softly.

She felt herself frown. “Actually, I was thinking maybe I’m insane.” As he started to chuckle, she pushed on his chest a bit and said, “Hey! I’m not kidding. I mean, yesterday I was hating you one minute and then I was kissing you and then we were all cuddly...I went totally schizo yesterday.” She hung her head. “Sorry.”

It was actually kinda hard to hang your head when you were all snuggly with someone. Her forehead ended up resting against his chest. She wasn’t the only one who shivered at that contact.

“’S okay,” he said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “One thing that’s good ‘bout that is, ‘m never gonna get bored.”

The way he said it—like that was the absolute worst trait in the world to have—and the fact that she knew he was exactly the same way made her giggle, alleviating some of the tension in the room. He laughed along with her. When they began to calm down he said, “Reckon we’d better get up.”

“Hmph.” Buffy pouted. “Comfy.”

Wow, was it just her or did his morning stiffy turn into something a little...stiffer? She fought not to laugh—an urge that was completely quelled when his mouth swooped down upon her own and kissed her urgently.

She gave as good as she got, and when they broke apart, they were both gasping for breath. “What—the—hell?” Buffy managed to get out.

“Don’t pout,” he advised her, reaching round and squeezing her ass. “Makes me all hot and bothered.” He leaned down and kissed her again. This time, she managed to keep enough of her sense to wriggle closer, pressing her soft stomach against his erection. He moaned into the kiss.

“Tch, tch, tch.”

An insidious clicking noise cause them to leap apart. Looking up, Buffy saw Drusilla standing in the previously closed and locked doorway.

“Naughty Spike, sleeping with sunshine. She’ll burn you.”

“Drusilla, what the bleeding hell are you doing in m’ room?” Spike demanded more than a little angrily.

“The sun has come up,” Drusilla replied innocently. “Princess wanted breakfast, but the other won’t give it.” She swayed forward and made it suddenly very obvious that she was wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown. “You can get me breakfast.”

Okay, this was just a little much. Buffy could handle it when she was all insane and slutty. That was okay, because she could handle crazy slutty chicks. But right now, the girl was perfectly sane, and she was still slutty. Worse, she was throwing herself at someone who was definitely not available.

So, accordingly, she sat up, leaned down, and gave Spike a quick, passionate kiss. Before the world had a chance to do the spinny thing, she looked into his eyes, said, “We’ll finish this later, baby,” and stood up to face Drusilla with what she hoped was a scary face.

Drusilla herself looked pretty freaky. She was staring at Spike with narrowed eyes, and Buffy could have sword she was hissing.

Well, Buffy had never been big on the whole common sense thing. She took a step forward, eyeing Drusilla contemptuously.

When she was about two feet away from the girl, she stopped dead and smiled sweetly. “We get our own breakfast here, Dru,” she said in a high, innocent-little-girl voice. “Why don’t you run along and do just that?”

“Ssss. Don’t want food if naughty boy won’t give it to me.” She pouted, looking over at Spike with huge eyes.

Wonderful, now she was going to make with the craziness again. Fine. Buffy could deal with that, too.

“Sorry, Princess, but the naughty boy’s busy being naughty with me. Scoot.” When Drusilla still didn’t move, Buffy snapped her fingers in front of the woman’s eyes.

”Get the hell out of here, you crazy-ass bitch!”

Okay, so she wasn’t exactly good at the whole temper-holding thing.

Drusilla, though, didn’t even blink. “Spike? Don’t make Princess go,” she begged in a quivery voice.

Buffy didn’t even bother looking back at him. He didn’t count (her jealousy-addled brain refused to admit that maybe she was being a little irrational). The only thing that currently counted was getting Drusilla out.

So, accordingly, she planted herself directly in Drusilla’s line of vision—or at least, a little below it. “Leave now,” she ordered, “Or there will be a hole where your brain was.”

She expected a whimper, another plea to Spike, or maybe one of those weird clicks or hisses. What she got weirded her out more than all those things combined would have.

Drusilla just stared at her for a minute before whispering, “The cards aren’t right just yet. The fishes will tell you when they are,” before departing.

Buffy turned back to the bed, feeling perplexed. What was that girl’s deal?

She didn’t get more than halfway around before she was enveloped in a bear hug. “Didn’t want to interfere,” Spike mumbled, kissing the top of her head. “Figured that’d just piss her off more.”

Buffy sighed, allowing herself the luxury of melting into his embrace for a second before stiffening and saying, “Okay, it sucks big-time that I have to do this, but we’d better get dressed.”

He pulled away from her, grimacing, but she knew he agreed. Sighing, he said, “Guess you’re right. What say you take the bathroom, an’ I’ll get dressed out here.”

She rolled her eyes, which of course made him get the offended look on his face. “What was that for?” he asked in a hurt voice.

“You are such a guy,” she told him, smacking his chest. “I’m going to be in that bathroom for at least a half an hour getting all pretty. you’ll just toss your clothes on and that’ll be that.”

“’S worth it, though. You’re beautiful,” he told her softly.

A blush rose in her cheeks and she smiled in pure pleasure. She’d never been called beautiful before—well, not by anyone who counted. Having him look down at her like she really was beautiful...somehow, out of all the stuff that had happened over the past few days, that was one of the most amazing.

“You, too,” she said. When what she’d just reciprocated occurred to her, she covered her mouth. God, could she get any more dumb-blonde-ey? “I mean,” she babbled, “In a gorgeous, manly, sexy kinda way...” she trailed off and made a face. “That was totally lame, wasn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” he said, but he was smiling.

God, I have to be the luckiest betrayed ex-cop with the LAPD on her heels in the world, she thought, staring up at him.

Unfortunately there was no cool world-stoppage like there was in the movies. They had to go get dressed. After staring at each other in the sappiest of ways for a few minutes, Buffy smiled awkwardly. “We really should get dressed.”

“Guess so,” Spike said, sticking his lip out petulantly. Buffy fought the urge to kiss it—his pouting was just as sexy as he apparently thought hers was.

“So. Um. See you out in the kitchen?”

At his smirk and nod, she scurried into the bathroom.

~*~

When Buffy entered the kitchen, people were draped over every article of furniture in the room that was even remotely near the wall. At first she just wondered if they all had a wall fetish or something wiggy like that, but then she saw Drusilla standing in the center of the kitchen, eating cereal. The milk dribbled down her chin in a way that should have looked nuts, but something about her expression turned it into a sexy thing, like a tube top or whatever.

Buffy scowled.

Her scowl lightened only a little when she saw that Xander and Anya were sitting in chair propped in front of the small kitchen table, which had been shoved against the wall. Eating at the table was Spike. Buffy refrained from smiling triumphantly.

At least he get the whole he’s mine and if she touches him she is a dead schizo walking concept, she thought as she walked over to the table, slid into the chair next to him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Crazy lady scaring you?”

Spike snorted. “More like makin’ me want to rip her bleedin’ head off,” he growled.

“Which of course is why we’re protecting you like a little baby,” Anya said in a vague voice. She, too, was watching Drusilla like a hawk.

“Spike, I know you decided to keep her here and all, but I don’t like her,” Xander said. “She’s...”

“Clearly insane?” Anya offered. “A raving lunatic, and Spike must be one too since he’s insisting we keep her here? A serious clamp on the whole get-Buffy-and-Spike-to-hook-up plan?”

“Anya!”

“S alright, whelp, ‘d already guessed,” Spike said lazily. “’Sides, we took care of that bit ourselves, didn’t we, pet?”

Buffy just sat there and grinned. That is, until Anya said curiously, “Are you two having many orgasms yet?”

Spike actually choked on the pastry he was eating, and sitting as close to him as she was, Buffy saw his muscles tense. Apparently the thought of them having ‘many orgasms’ was a turn-on. It sure as hell was for her.

It was also majorly embarrassing. “Anya!” she cried, pounding Spike on the back. “There were no orgasms!”

“Judging by the look on the Big Bad’s face, I’m bettin’ he wishes there were.” Faith, leaning against the counter, grinned.

“Whatever.” Buffy rolled her eyes, but her grin had come back. As long as she wasn’t going all boob-shovey with Spike, Faith was okay.

Now Kennedy came over. “Spike, I’m really not liking this Drusilla thing. It blows,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I’m worried she’s gonna like rip up my Prada bag or something.” Cordelia was the perfect face of worry, despite her shallow words.

A chuckle sounded behind them. “Don’t want your purse.”

Okay, Buffy decided. Drusilla coming over there was kind of inevitable, since they were all gathered there. But still. The girl was freaky in a huge way.

Cordelia just eyed her up and down. “Um, hello, nobody asked you!”

“Don’t have to. Do they, Spike?”

Spike averted his eyes from her.

“Grr. Bad dog. Answer when Mummy tells you.”

The rest of the group was completely still. You know, when you think about it, it’s a little funny that one crazy chick can make everybody so scared.

Drusilla reached out toward Anya, presumably to push her away.

Or not.

“Spike! Your crazy ex is going to touch me! For God’s sake, can’t you just shut her up somewhere or something!” Anya was practically jumping out of her skin. Insanity didn’t agree with her.

“Uh, yeah.” Spike managed to shake himself out of whatever thrall he’d been in. “Dru, come with me. We’re gonna, um, put you in for a nap. ‘k?”

He led her back down the hallway. Fortunately, she was gibbering insanely—she barely seemed to notice when he locked the door on her.

When he came back, Faith’s comment summed up everybody’s feelings: “Damn, that is one fucked-up bitch.”

~*~

A/N: Sorry for the wait, things piled up a little. The whole purse thing of course comes from Fool For Love. When I realized what I’d made Cordy say, I couldn’t resist =) I realize that I say this every time, but thank you thank you thank you for the reviews. Every single one makes me smile—and I’ll respond more now, promise =) Thanks again!





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