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Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss and ME own everything.

Set in my own version of the future post-Sunnydale and Angel S5 - Spike and Buffy have been together for years now, they live in London near Willow and Dawn, Xander and Giles live up in Scotland at the Slayer School. Spike's still a vamp with a soul, Buffy's still the slayer, they're still in love and above all else, they still love to fight.
"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

"Say please."

"Aren't you like a zillion years old? Try acting like it."

"What? You want my skin to crust, my arse to collapse and my back to curve like a half-shut knife? I always knew you were kinky, Slayer, but that's pushing the boat out pretty far in'it?"

"Let me put it in language you'll understand. Either you settle on a channel and stop flipping through them so fast it's inducing an epileptic fit or I will make you regret it for the rest of your unlife."

"And how're you gonna do that? You gonna spank me?"

"In your dreams, bleach-head. I was thinking more along the lines of kicking you repeatedly in the balls til they look like brazil nuts."

"Jesus, woman! You're getting sadistic in your old age!"

"Old, ha! That's funny coming from the man born under the reign of Queen Elizabeth!"

"Queen Victoria, luv. Good ole Lizzie was the 16th century."

"Whatever. This conversation is over and unless you're gonna quit with the channel-hopping-on-acid, TV time is over too, which means you can go do the dishes."

"I can't do dishes. My skin prunes. You know this, ducks."

"Well yes, everyone's skin prunes when they submerge their hands in the water for 15 minutes without break. If you actually did the dishes as opposed to soaking your hands, it wouldn't be an issue!"

"I like the warm water! How would you like it having cold hands all the time!"

"Yeah well, I'm the one that wakes up every day with cold hands in unmentionable places, aren't I?"

"Oh, well if that's the way this talk's goin' then fine! See if my cold hands come anywhere near you tomorrow!"

"Oh please. Like that would ever happen! You are incapable of staying away from me. When I get up to go to the bathroom I come back and your face is buried in my pillow! You crave me, bleach-boy!"

"Did it ever occur to you, in your arrogance, that what you symbolize for me is nothing more than heat? Huh? I'll have you know I bury my face in your pillow because it's warm and much comfier than mine. You made sure of that when you snatched it for yourself!"

"I can't believe you are still moaning about that! For god's sake, Spike, it's been a year! For the last damn time, the pillows were a set - THEY ARE THE SAME!"

"Oh, so that's why every time I ask you to switch you refuse! Yeah, they're exactly the same, Slayer, pfft!"

"I refuse because your's smells of that stupid bleach you douse your hair in every month and mine smells of vanilla."

"Bleach doesn't smell bad, woman, give it up. You just don't want to fork over the better pillow, you'd rather keep it for yourself. And that's fine, I get it - you're selfish."

"I'm selfish? I am? Who's the one who ate every single brownie that Dawn made the other week, huh? Who did that? Let's see, was it the human who can actually gain sustenance from brownies or was it the corpse whose taste buds are a century in their grave and wouldn't know the difference between a brownie and a greenie!"

"Gain sustenance from brownies? That Dawn made? Luv, you're more likely to get sustenance from eating that cat the neighbors leave scraps out for."

[silence]

"Luv?"

[silence]

"Hello! Earth to Buffy! It's your turn to insult me, ducks."

"I can't believe you called me selfish."

"Oh you sulky little vixen. Put the pout away, luv, this is hardly the time and place for it - we have a guest."

[cough] "Well, it's nice to know you and Buffy are aware you're not alone in the room. One would think you didn't care if you made your guests uncomfortable or not."

"Don't you start sulking too, Watcher. Pouts only turn me on when it's Buffy doing it."

"Well thank heaven for small favours."

"Giles, I'm sorry. I realise we're being bad hosts and I would like to apologise on behalf of myself. I would apologise on behalf of Spike but since I'm such a raging selfish whore who steals pillows I'm probably ill-qualified to speak on Sir Shithead's behalf."

"Eh, thank you, Buffy. I think. I'll probably just head on--"

"Sir Shithead?"

"--up to bed. Good night, Buffy. Good luck, Spike."

"Yes, you're a shithead and you were all posh as a human - it's a nickname that works and educates, I like it."

"I wasn't a bloody teacher, Slayer, I was a poet!"

"Which means I should call you what; Sir Loser?"

"That ice under your feet is getting thin, woman!"

"Oh no, is Shithead of Shitheadonesia gonna lose his cool? Wouldn't want that would we? God knows what kind of pillow-snuggling antics he'll get up to."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, luv, you should leave it to the professionals."

"Well excuse me!"

[grin]

"Dammit!"

"Aw, look how cute you get when you're all flustered, gimme that lip."

"Spike, if you come any closer I will bite a chunk out of your face!"

"Aw come on, luv, it was just playtime. You know you're my everything."

"Well then, take it back."

"Take what back?"

"You know what!"

"What, the good pillow? I've been trying to, luv, but this mean little midget girl keeps saying it's hers."

"Oh that is IT!"

----------------------------------------------------------

"Willow? Yes I'm sorry to wake you, I realise it's very late but is there any chance--"

[muffled] "... one more word about that goddamn pillow ..."

"--I could stay in your flat tonight? ... Yes, I know, I'm there just now actually ... Yes, I know you warned me ... Yes, I know they're impossible ... No, thankfully there wasn't any mention of the fish incident this time."

[muffled] " ... almost as bad as the time you stood on my fish you bastard!"

"Ah, it seems I spoke too soon."

[muffled] "... keep telling you it was an accident!"

"Yes, Willow, I'll order a taxi just now, I should be there in half an hour? Excellent."

[muffled] "... suppose it just leapt out of the tank and under your boot in a desperate attempt at fish-suicide!"

"I'm quite sure Willow, yes ... Surely you don't need me to say it ... Oh alright. I, Rupert Giles, do solemnly swear to adhere to the advice of my good friend Willow Rosenberg when she tells me to avoid staying at the home of the volatile yet passionate .. really Willow, this is ridicu- ... oh for god's sake - volatile yet passionate relationship of one Buffy Summers and William the Bloody ... Yes, good, let's never mention this again. I'll be there soon."

----------------------------------------------------

"Na' mate, few more hours til my shift ends ... On a hire right now actually ... Aw, you know these posh-o's up this end of London ... Wait, oh my ... Holy shit mate! There's a couple goin' at it in the front room ... I swear to god mate, I'm not lying! ... You should see this shit ... Nah, not that I can see but there's definitely two of 'em in there goin' at it right now ... Blonde ... Nah, both of 'em ... Right up against the wall ... Yeah, the curtains are wide open and the lights on, haha! ... Holy crap, they're really goin' for it ... Like I said, mate, these posh-o's sure know how to let go, haha! ... Oh shit, here comes my hire ... Out of the same house ... Fuck off, he's old ... I'm telling you he ain't the type to get in an orgy with those two ... Because they look like they've forgotten there are any other people in the world, let alone in the house with 'em ... S'not a flippin' orgy! ... Fine, I'll ask ... I'm not a total tool, I'll be subtle ... Oh gotta head mate, he's gettin' in the car, I'll call you later. Cheers, mate".

"Good evening. 18 West Hope Street, please."

"Evenin' ... So, late night party?"

"Eh, not quite."

"Ah. Visiting friends then?"

"Yes, you could say that. I was supposed to be staying with them while I'm down from Scotland but a few, eh, problems arose."

"Ah, I see what you're saying. Problems with the old back, eh?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Gotta have a strong back for that kind of nonsense, don'cha?"

"Eh, yes. Excuse me for a moment, would you?"

"Sure thing, mate."

[text msg] Willow, am in crzy prsn's taxi, do locator spell, find me urself. Dn't call Buffy/Spike. Would rather die [end msg]


Chapter End Notes:
The End. Maybe.



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