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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. Know it's been awhile, but I hope you're still with me. Also, for the last bit, I checked some screencaps for "Afterlife."

Thanks to DoS for betaing :D
"Sweet Dreams"

It took approximately five weeks for him to regain the proper use of his legs again. Spike had been determined. Not just because he knew he was needed on patrol. No. Spike had a particular flight of stairs he was in desperate need of climbing.

He hadn't been to her room since...since the night she invited him in.

Since the night they made love.

The house was quiet that evening, just as he knew it would be.

Willow and Tara, who moved in with the Bit within a week after the world didn't end, had taken Dawn out to dinner and a movie. Quality girl bonding time—full of pampering and molly coddling, he was sure.

Spike needed to be alone for this—didn't need anyone else's prying eyes.

First, he went down to the basement, replacing all of the pictures he had collected of her.

Didn't seem right, keeping hold of them. Especially after...everything.

Then came her clothing.

He climbed the steps to the first floor where all the bedrooms were. He dreaded opening her door, though, wondering if their mingled scents still permeated the room after all that time.

He turned the knob slowly, pushing the door open. He gritted his teeth as his keen vampire nose collided with her smell, stale and tainted with Time.

He stopped breathing.

Because that would have made it all that much harder.

He neatly folded and put away the few articles of clothing he had of hers—shirts, bandanas, cute little undies...

Spike sighed, wearily sitting down upon the bed they had shared once, after his task had been completed. He grabbed her pillow, the one she favored most to lay her head on, and finally inhaled deeply. He shuddered internally before breathing in again, and again, hugging the pillow close to him.

And then he wept.

He would go through this ritual of crying and inhaling her scent almost daily, whenever he had the chance to be alone in the Summers' home. It was only after he had tainted each pillow with his scent, to the point that it nearly overpowered hers, that he finally stopped.

~*~*~*~*~*~

He simply couldn't come to grips with the fact that she was really there. He had to be dreaming...

Only he wasn't.

It was real. She was really there, and allowing him to hold her, to give her comfort.

Spike silently sobbed to himself, soon after Buffy fell asleep in his arms. They were tears brought on by happiness, of course, though he still couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed of them, dripping once again onto Buffy's pillows, and a bit onto the back of her shirt as he held her close.

A few moments later, he pulled himself together, and realized that she was tense in her sleep—her body rigid, as she drew her feet up, clutching the stuffed pig to her.

She was cold, he realized.

Spike slowly released her, easing off the bed. He grabbed his duster hanging on the hook on the back of her door, and laid it gently over her sleeping form. He contemplated if he should stay until morning, or not. His girl was asleep, safe and warm. But she had asked him to stay, admitting that his presence brought a bit of comfort.

Decision made, Spike walked over to the window, closing its curtains before taking off his boots. Cautiously, almost reverently, he reclaimed his position beside Buffy, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

Once he was asleep, Buffy turned around in his arms, subconsciously seeking him out, abandoning the pig to hold him close to her. Feeling her arms wrap around him, Spike purred in content.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Try as she might, Dawn simply couldn't fall asleep.

She spent the better half the night tossing and turning, pulling the covers up before flinging them off in frustration.

She knew what the problem was, of course. She had spent the last five months missing her sister horribly, and nearly every night since secretly curling up at the bot's side for comfort.

All the night's she didn't, she spent at Spike's crypt.

Dawn hated being alone.

But neither were there—the bot was destroyed, and Spike had stormed out several hours earlier. She briefly entertained the idea of going to him for about a second, before the thought that her real sister was in fact back home resonated through her mind.

With a sharp intake of breath, Dawn rolled out of bed, quickly landing on her feet before briskly walking to her door, opening it quietly, and walking down the hall to Buffy's room.

She hadn't shared a bed with her sister since...well, since they first moved into the house on Revello, actually. Dawn had been scared, sleeping in her new room the first week or so, and would sneak into Buffy's room in the middle of the night. She supposed it should have bothered her, not going to her mother instead, but she knew that Buffy would be the one to protect her from whatever Boogie Man might be lurking in the shadows.

Stupid monks.

Dawn scowled, twisting the knob violently on Buffy's door, then stopped dead in her tracks as she saw the back of her sister's sleeping form, wrapped in Spike's leather duster. Though his face was hidden from view due to the position of Buffy's head, she could still see the top of his curly, platinum head, and his pale arm wrapped securely around her sister. Dawn gasped, her throat constricting, as she took in their serenity.

And though she could see neither of their faces, she knew without a doubt that they felt at peace.

Dawn dropped her head, slowly closing the door as she backed away, the unmistakable pain and heat of jealously pinpricking her innards.

As Buffy's door softly clicked, Dawn realized that earlier that night, without her knowledge, she had already been shut out.

Just when she thought she had her sister back, she was losing her all over again.

But this time, it was to Spike.

Dawn choked back tears, as she slid down Buffy's closed door to the soft carpet of the floor, and realized that coincidentally, she was losing Spike too.

It was almost comical, really. She'd been trying the last few weeks to get rid of him, kind of.

She just thought that she was holding him back—that he needed some Spike time, or to hang out with people other than her at any rate.

Now, he had his chance.

Dawn knew that he would now devote all his time to Buffy. How could he not? She knew that her best friend would be lost to her.

And as for Buffy, well, Dawn could only hope that she wouldn't forget about her.

Duh--of course she wouldn't...

Would she?



~*~*~*~*~*~

Late the next morning, Buffy grudgingly awoke in her darkened room to the sight of a peacefully sleeping Spike before her. Her mouth slowly parted as she gazed at him in wonder, fingers ghosting over the sharp planes of his face, taking in his look of contentment as well as the dried tear tracks beneath the dark lashes against the pale skin of his face.

She briefly entertained the idea of him as a fallen angel. If he was, then maybe that was why the prickling of loneliness in her heart seemed to ebb when she was near him.

But as she continued to stare, it suddenly dawned on her that he had been crying. She realized in that moment that Spike had grieved her, though why he would be sad now was beyond her. She didn't know what to make of it.

"Spike?" she called out softly, but he didn't stir.

"Love..." he mumbled, arm tightening slightly around her. His eyes were still closed, and Buffy was almost certain he was still sleeping. She sighed, gently extricating herself from his tight, albeit gentle, embrace.

She was damn thirsty.

She got up, taking his duster that had kept her warm all night with her. She put it on, clutching it to her body as if it were an oversized, leather bathrobe.

She made her way to the kitchen, where she overheard her friends' low murmurings from the backyard.

They were discussing her, and the fact that some demon hitched a ride on her soul.

From hell.

Buffy knew that she should probably go out there, and discuss what exactly was happening, but she didn't feel the need. No research--no slaying any baddies. Right now, all she wanted was--

"And on top of all that, Spike was sleeping with her? I mean, was she even aware? Of course she wasn't. Maybe it was just another apparition?" Xander questioned. The others paused before slowly agreeing that perhaps that was the case.

"I mean, Buffy wouldn't...I mean..." Willow trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. Anya cut in eagerly at the opprotunity the lapse in conversation presented her with, for she felt completely under utilized with it came to such matters. They hardly asked her about anything.

"She just got back from hell and said she wanted to be alone. That doesn't mean 'wrap me in the pale arms of my once mortal enemy.' But then again, having orgasmic sex can fight off the doom and gloom of depression. For awhile, anyway."

"Um, they were fully clothed, so..." Tara trailed off.

"You do realize you don't have to be completely naked to have sex, right?" Anya asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. Xander cut in before anyone could answer her.

"But we can't be sure it wasn't the apparition, ghostly thing, right?" Xander asked.

"It could've been. I mean, that'd make more sense. We can just ask Buffy when she wakes up," Willow suggested.

Buffy had heard enough. Not only did she not feel like explaining, but she was certain they wouldn't get it. And anyway, she couldn't really even explain last night to herself. But an explanation was not needed or mattered.

It was comfort. He was comfort. That was all she needed to know.

Quietly, she went to the fridge, grabbed a carton of juice, and headed back upstairs to her room. Buffy's eyes widened when she saw her empty bed, and she became stunned into brief immobility once her eyes locked on her open window.

She cursed the front of her house for facing West.


A/N: Please don't be pissed...Lengthy, explainy update to come shortly :P





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