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Author's Chapter Notes:
I had this chapter ready to post for a while now, but technology is being mean to me and I've been having computer trouble, so... until I get it all fixed or buy a new one, I'm going to apologize for the possible lack of updates. Possible. It's a maybe still, not for sure, but I thought I'd let you all know. Just in case.

I also wanted to say thank you to Darkezza for the email. It made me smile, sweet. Thanks :)

Also, I'm going to apologize now for uh... "being a guy." LOL :P

That said... hope you enjoy this chapter, with it's lack of dialogue and all :P
Buffy couldn't sleep.

She had been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours, finding shapes in the moonlight that shone through the window blinds.

She felt... guilty, yes, of lying to William. But the feeling wasn't as strong since she had accepted his offer as it had been before.

Buffy figured, in her own way, even with this lie between them, she was helping him. He had said so himself. Being his wife, giving him a child, it would help him. Help his career.

Knowing that, if nothing else, made her feel slightly less guilty.

That wasn't what was truly bothering her, though. This nervous feeling in her gut, it wasn't over guilt, it was over... confusion.

They had almost kissed.

Twice.

Once after dinner and again when he'd reclaimed her as his wife. Sliding the ring onto her finger then staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. His face that for those few seconds, before his phone rang breaking the moment, had been all softness and warmth instead of sharp lines and harsh angles.

He was attracted to her, that much she could tell. He showed it in the smallest ways, from holding her hand, whenever he could get away with it, to soft whispers when he could speak out loud, to his hand at the small of her back whenever he'd guide her out of a room or into his car.

If she was honest - which she would be, if not to herself then at least to him, he deserved that much - she had been attracted to him as well. Ever since their eyes had met in the dimly lit lights of the night club, she had been attracted to him. Attracted to his looks and later his personality.

Part of that attraction, a big part of it, was what had made her accept his drunken marriage proposal. What girl wouldn't want to have such a handsome husband? Even if just for a night? Even if subconsciously, she supposed, she might have been aware that this, now, could have happened. She was still surprised he hadn't asked for a divorce or an annulment of some kind, the morning after, when he found out exactly what they had done.

Sighing as the clock ticked away another hour, Buffy slipped from under the covers of the bed, William had insisted her to take, and padded, barefoot, past the folding screen and into the outer rooms.

Pausing at the kitchen island, her hip leaning against the cold tile, she took in his sleeping form illuminated by the soft light of the moon as it shone through the window.

He was laying on his stomach, pillow on the floor, face smooshed against the soft cushion of the couch. The blanket he'd taken tangled around his feet, his tank top twisted in a way she knew would give him red marks on his stomach in the morning, his black sweatpants ridding low on his hips, giving her a slight glimpse of the swell of his ass.

She made the rest of the way to the living room and sat at one of the leather recliners he had there, trying to find a reasonable enough excuse to wake him.

A few minutes later she was curled up, asleep.

Spike found her like that when he woke the next morning.






The last thing Spike expected to see, when he woke first thing in the morning was Buffy curled up on the recliner. Asleep, and gently snoring.

Sliding one leg down, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his hand made it's way to the back of his neck, rubbing it as well, before gently popping it. He stood up, reaching a long hand to retrieve the discarded pillow on the floor and brought it back up to the couch.

Fixing his clothing, Spike took two steps to stand in front of Buffy's sleeping form.

She looked... troubled. Tense even in sleep and he wondered if something was bothering her, plaguing her dreams or her thoughts or if it was the uncomfortable position - chin resting softly on the peak of her chest, arms crossed, legs tucked tightly underneath her - she was in.

Shaking his head - a soft smile upon his face - and slightly wincing at just the though of how sore she would be once she woke, he made his way to the side of the small couch and bent down to curl his arms around her diminutive form and quickly, so as to not wake her, lifted her up and into his arms.

Her head wobbled gently before coming to rest upon his shoulder. Her soft expelled breath warming the skin of his neck for a few seconds before cooling as she inhaled again.

He walked into his room, thankful that she had left the door open, and made his way to the bed that lay behind the wooden folding screen.

The bed had been slept in. The bedraggled covers and shifted pillows to accommodate a resting head were proof of that. And he hadn't found rest till hours long past midnight and even now, it was just past seven, so it was clear she hadn't been his undetected sleeping companion for long.

That was good, he figured. She hadn't been made to endure sleeping in that chair for too long.

Placing her upon the centre of the bed, and beneath the soft covers, he sat on the edge. His knee brought up to rest comfortably as he faced her.

He caressed her hair out of her face, tucking it gently behind her ear before running his thumb against the creases of her forehead, trying to soothe away her frown.

Seeing her calm, he stood and made his way to the closet. Grabbing a pair of jeans, socks, and his trainers, not bothering with a clean shirt, he made his way to the bathroom. Quickly stripping and redressing, after taking a piss and having a quick wank, he washed his face and brushed his teeth.

Walking back into the bedroom, he made his way towards the bed, dropping a quick kiss on Buffy's forehead.

Spike made his way to the outer rooms stopping just once to grab his soft, brown, leather jacket and his keys.

Making his way out of his flat and down the stairs he wondered if he had enough time to run out to the pastry shop the next street over, to get them some breakfast, and make a quick stop at a convenience store to get a bit of orange juice and milk and be back home before Buffy woke.





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