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AUTHOR'S NOTES: My reviewers are amazing, you guys make me smile and inspire me to write and I just wanted to give a shout out to all of you. I have gotten very into this story and I hope I am pulling everyone reading in along with me. Thank you ALL for reading and paying this fic any attention at all, it truly humbles me.
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Buffy pulled a pair of cotton pajama pants over her legs. Standing in her bedroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. "How did you get yourself into this?"

Turning around, she headed back downstairs to the tense party awaiting her.

There were two vampires in her kitchen; both testy, both refusing to leave. Buffy decided she had too many individuals of the fangy variety under her roof. She wondered, as she descended the steps much slower than she normally would, if they could hear each movement she made, every creak beneath her toes.

When she had whispered, a room away and finally alone for the first time this evening, that she "had too many vampires in her simple nine to five life," both Darla and Spike- still sitting in the kitchen -had shouted: "Heard that!"

Buffy took a deep breath before entering the dining room and walking to the swinging door. After getting Darla back inside, it seemed there was an immediate dilemma: Where would everyone sleep?

Actually, this dilemma came after the argument concerning which vampire was allowed to spend the night, and which one wasn't. Spike refused to let Darla stay if he had to leave; Darla didn't want to be far away from her friend if Spike was close.

Neither of them seemed too concerned with the fact it was Buffy's house.

She wanted to argue with them, especially Spike. Darla was a longtime friend, and always welcome here; he certainly couldn't push her out. It should have angered Buffy more that he wanted to, but logic told her he was being protective. Her heart was willing to allow that.

She hadn't known of Darla's vampire status until tonight. If she had, then she might not understand Spike's hesitancy- rather, his refusal, to leave her alone with another vampire in the house. However, such was not the case.

Darla, of course, was no easier to deal with. She didn't know Spike either, and while it seemed strange that he would hurt Buffy now after having so many opportunities and passing those up, the she-vamp still wasn't leaving.

She had no real proof they were mates. Other than Spike's avowal- His were promises Darla would not be trusting anytime soon -and Buffy's agreement, there was no clue as to whether or not they were truly connected in any sort of way. She certainly couldn't take Buffy's word for it; her friend might feel a pull to Spike, but she was human, and was no expert on supernatural bonds.

Hell, neither was Darla, but that was beside the point.

Buffy entered the kitchen, and found the two vampires staring one another down like angry cats. "You know, if you keep it up your faces are going to freeze that way."

They turned towards her, Spike almost managing a smile when he saw Buffy standing there with crossed arms, an "I'm so tired of this shit" look on her pretty face. She could be awfully cute when she was pissed off, along with intimidating. How she managed the combination, Spike would never know. "Well pet," he said, "might do both of us some good if you'd declare who'll be welcome in your house tonight."

"Yes," Darla said, "and if it's both of us, don't expect me to share a room with him. If he really is your mate, then-"

"I am," Spike growled.

Darla continued without pause. "-it would be even more awkward." She looked at Spike with eyes like daggers. "Especially since I'd end up killing him before morning."

Spike scoffed.

Buffy ignored the unpleasant feeling that shivered through her at Darla's threat, even knowing it (probably) wasn't serious, and covered the discomfort with an eye roll. "Spike, you'll get the couch. Darla, you the guest room."

Her mate broke his glaring contest with the other vamp. "I want to be on the same floor as you, pet. Even if I have to prop the wall up all night."

She bit back a groan and cut him off. "Fine. Then the hallway to my bedroom is all yours. Will you be needing a pillow?"

He frowned and grumbled, "If you've got one."

Buffy then turned towards Darla and said, "You can open the windows in your room if you get too hot, I put the screens back in, so you won't have to worry about bugs."

She smiled almost shyly, which was an unusual expression for the lady. "Temperature doesn't really affect me anymore, but thanks."

Buffy nodded, and then the silence in the room quickly became thick and suffocating. Darla stood up suddenly, glancing between the human and Spike. "I'm going to bring my bags upstairs... Buffy," she stared at her evenly, "will you be okay down here?"

She almost sighed but managed to hold it in. "Yeah."

Darla went to leave, and threw an icy backward glance at Spike on the way out the door, not sure if she was doing something smart by leaving them alone. She assuaged any fears with the decision to listen intently in the front hall before actually going up to her room. Besides, she could still hear her friend's heartbeat from nearly anywhere in the house.

Once she was gone, Buffy slowly approached the island and sat in the place Darla had vacated. She stared at Spike, managing to avoid his eyes. She chewed her lower lip and that's when he spoke up.

"Looks like I'm moving in a little earlier than expected."

Buffy almost scowled at him, but managed to prevent it. He was smirking at her, and that was irritating , but she couldn't deny he was right. Besides, unless Darla's undead status hadn't been revealed, Spike would not be sleeping here. "It's only one night, Spike."

He rose one dark eyebrow. "You really think that pet, then you're off your rocker."

She did scowl then. "I don't think Darla will hurt me."

"But you're not sure." She didn't respond, and Spike took the opportunity to make his point. "That's why you're not shouting at me to get the hell out of here, and we both know it, ducks. You trust her, but you're unsure, and that's smart. You know damn well I'm not going to do anything to you, and you also know this isn't just for one night."

She exhaled and put her hands flat on the countertop. "Spike, I don't know if you will hurt me or not. The only thing I know is that I don't like the idea of you getting hurt, and I hope the feeling is mutual." He didn't respond to that, but she didn't see the look on his face either. "You've had so many chances to hurt me, but you haven't taken one of them, so I trust you. Sort of."

He was quiet for a moment, and then murmured, "But not enough just yet." He understood. She was making a point. Buffy wasn't ready to let him in right now, and he was only getting a free pass because of strange circumstances. She could never let him inhabit her home without some more time passing for them.

Buffy shook her head. "That's not it, Spike." Those four words managed to make his heart lighter and hope bloom inside. "I do trust you, and it's strange because I barely know-... Well, I mean I know you, but I haven't known you for very long. But I'm just not ready..." She sighed. She really hated using words to describe her feelings so much, and her voice lowered to barely a whisper. "Letting you move in with me is a big step."

She had never lived with anyone besides her family before, except for in college, but that was it. The few boyfriends she had known in the past never got to be that serious. She may have loved a couple of them, but her relationships just hadn't progressed to such a point.

Spike was determined to make it there.

Buffy's eyes flashed up to meet his when he brought a gentle hand to her cheek. He froze when she looked at him, as if unable to remember what he'd been about to say. Then, something moved behind his eyes, and it was warm, like his voice rubbing against her suddenly raw nerves. "Buffy, I won't hurt you. Physically I can't, neither do I want to. The other way... Well, I'm going to try my hardest to never do that either. I can't guarantee I'll succeed, but... I'm never leaving. I can't, and even if I could I'm not bloody wired to when I care about someone. I just..." He shrugged tightly. "I'm selfish. I don't let go of the things I want."

She might have heard it as a threat if he hadn't said the words in that heated, unsure voice. She also wasn't sure how it made her feel better, but it did. "So, you're saying I can't get rid of you basically?"

He sighed, then a crooked smile appeared on his lips. "I don't give up easily."

Buffy tentatively wrapped her fingers around the wrist of the cool hand still touching her face. She missed his intake of breath, and said, "I have a cot upstairs in a room that used to be my sister's. It might be more comfortable than the hallway."

His gaze twinkled and he nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." But in her head, Buffy said: *Thanks for staying.*

***

"How did you know Spike wasn't planning on killing me?"

Darla finished folding her clothes, turning at Buffy's abrupt question. She had a little line between her eyebrows, but then it smoothed out and she shrugged. "I didn't. That is, until he acted like protecting you from me was the chief thing on his mind." She ran a brush through her blonde hair, then set it down before walking to the bed Buffy had just finished making up. "I kind of figured that you knew he was a vampire once he showed his fangs, and you still just managed to stare at my," she waved a hand towards her cheek, "pretty, bumpy face."

Buffy made a silent "O" shape with her lips. Spike was waiting outside the bedroom for her. She looked at the familiar walls. This used to be her bedroom when she was a teenager, then after her mom died and Dawn moved out, she took the master bedroom, turning this into a guest.

Darla stretched out on the old mattress, under a thin sheet, and smiled at her friend in a way that was old and knowing. "Why do you trust him?"

She wasn't surprised by the question. After heading back upstairs to settle everyone in for the night, Buffy realized just how tired she was. The two vamps might be wide awake right now but she didn't care, she just wanted her bed.

When Darla had risen her brows in surprise after Buffy showed Spike the cot he would sleep on, she knew there would be a couple more questions to answer.

She didn't quite know how to answer this one, though. "I... I feel like I can. At first I didn't, but now it's... it's different. I'm trusting my gut."

Darla frowned. "Your gut is telling you to trust a stranger who also happens to be dead?"

"Living dead," she argued weakly.

Darla shrugged her shoulders. "True."

Buffy looked down at her feet. She was obviously naive in this whole crazy situation. She barely knew Spike, but she knew him. Something in her recognized him, and she felt it every time she saw his face. She was getting used to the reaction. However, to outsiders it sounded nuts; even, she was sure, to the vampire sitting before her right now. "He's had a lot of chances to hurt me, Darla. I just don't think he wants to, or that he will."

Buffy almost let out a huge sigh of relief when her friend said, "I guess I'll trust your gut, too, then."

Darla rolled over on her side and rested her blonde head against a soft white pillow. "But don't expect me to trust him completely, Buffy. Not yet."

The woman nodded, grateful beyond words that her friend didn't think she was a moron. Darla was also looking at Spike with an open mind, and Buffy couldn't help wonder if that might be because Darla was obviously not your typical vamp. She didn't see things in black and white, never had, and apparently that trait had carried over with her through death.

She walked to the door and hit the light switch, staring at her old friend with a doubtful expression. "Are you actually going to be able to sleep right now?"

Darla laughed softly against the sheet. "No, but I'll lie awake until I do. Once the sun starts rising I'll get tired." She met Buffy's eyes in the dark. "Don't worry about me. I've been trying to adjust to a less vampire-esque schedule because I was planning to visit you. I'll be fine."

Buffy began closing the door when suddenly, a thought popped into her head. "Is that why the last few times you were here you wouldn't leave your bedroom until the sun was going down?"

Darla grinned. "Jet lag is a useful little thing to blame when you're allergic to sunlight."

Buffy scoffed a laughed. "Goodnight, Darla."

"Night, Buffy."

Upon shutting the bedroom door, she turned and found Spike leaning against the railing, his coat folded over one forearm. His T-shirt, black and fitted, showed off his muscles and sinewy build. Buffy couldn't help but think that his chest looked as hard as cement through the material. She swallowed and tried to stop focusing on the fact she had never seen him without his leather duster on before. "Do you think you'll be okay with only one pillow?" she asked.

He blinked at her. "One's fine."

She nodded. "Good. And blankets?"

He smiled softly. "The sheet will do fine, pet."

Buffy nodded quickly. "Okay. Good." She headed towards the bathroom and then stopped. "Uh, do vamps use the bathroom?"

Spike shook his head.

"Oh. Well, it's here," she waved at the open door, "if you need it for any reason..." Her voice trailed away, and she was left feeling strangely out of place and awkward. "Uh, I don't know if you can sleep this early but I'm planning to hit the hay." That was a lie. Suddenly, Buffy wasn't tired. As a matter of fact, she felt wired, jittery almost.

Spike sensed it, too, but he didn't comment on the fib. Instead, he offered something to calm her. "Oh, alright then," he shrugged, "I was thinking you'd like to..." Nerves, stupid pointless nerves suddenly cascaded down his back like spiders. He cleared his throat.

"Yes?" she prompted.

He called himself a ninny in his head. "I was wondering if you'd want to share a cup of hot cocoa with me before bed?"

Buffy stared at him, and Spike added, "Or tea, or milk. I don't know, I'm just not sleepy at this time and I thought it might..." He continued staring at her frozen, unreadable expression and just sighed. "Oh forget it, goodnight."

He headed for his room, and when he got there he tossed his duster over a pile of boxes as tall as his stomach and shut the door before letting out a quiet groan.

What kind of idiot was he? He'd sounded pathetic and needy back there! All he'd had to do was shrug and spout something smooth, calm, as if he didn't want her company. If he'd said he was thirsty and wanted to get something to maybe help him sleep, Buffy would have probably offered to come with him, seeing as he didn't know where anything was in her kitchen.

Bloody hell, he'd never felt so much like a blushing, stumbling schoolboy in his unlife! Before that, with Cecily fucking Underwood back when he'd been human, that was beyond embarrassing sure, but this was running a close second.

He made a disgusted sound. "Fucking lovely, now I can relive that memory."

Just then, the door opened a crack, and a faint light streamed into the room. Buffy's small hand reached in and turned on the overhead, and she said, "Spike? I um... I can't sleep either right now, so if you wanted hot chocolate or something... I have it. Downstairs." She rolled her eyes at herself. "Obviously. No one keeps hot chocolate in their pajama pockets."

Spike nearly smiled at her reddened face, all open and kind. She was almost stammering, and now she awaited his answer, and any embarrassment he had felt just moments ago quickly faded to nothing. "Sounds good," he said, and stood to follow her.

Buffy lead him down the staircase in the shadowy dim light. They reached the kitchen and she switched on the light, going directly for one of the cabinets. Spike saw an assortment of things when she opened it, like coffee, several flavors of tea you would never catch him drinking, and one box of Swiss Miss, beside a clear container of what looked like cocoa powder.

Spike frowned when she reached for the clear container and then shut the cabinet door. When Buffy turned around, she found him sitting at the island.

"My mom used to make her own hot cocoa. I like using the recipe when I'm not too impatient for some chocolate-y goodness," she smiled. "Even though it is summertime, I think I'm in the mood for it."

Spike found her utterly adorable as she went to reopen the cabinet, and frowned at him worriedly over her shoulder. "You did want hot chocolate right? I have Swiss Miss too, or other stuff." She peered up at her selection. "Tea?"

Spike fought off a grin and said, "I think I want to try this special Summers cocoa. I'm not impatient." *Rather uncharacteristic, that,* he thought wryly.

Buffy shut the door and turned to open another kitchen cabinet. She grabbed a plastic bottle from the second shelf that was filled with baking goods like corn starch, baking soda, flour, and several containers of Hershey's unsweetened cocoa powder.

Buffy started talking as she worked, going to the fridge to get the milk, and then searching for a little measuring glass. "So, how's your stomach?"

Spike frowned as she flitted about, pouring and mixing things. "How's that?"

"Darla..." Buffy trailed off as she set a little pot on the stove. "She hit you, right before you kicked her outside."

Spike barely remembered, but then he recalled the small instant when he'd been hauling Darla outside, only to get punched in the gut for his troubles. At the time it had hurt, sure, but it was nothing important enough for him to dwell on. "I'm fine, love," he said. Realizing that Buffy was worried about him, his eyes softened on her form. It might be just the claim, probably was, but Spike still felt happiness at the idea of her caring at all. "Just a small hit, nothing to get worked up over."

Buffy turned around fast. "I wasn't. I was just... I was just checking to make sure."

Her cover up did nothing to affect his feelings, and Spike smiled tenderly at her. "Well, thanks for caring enough to check."

Buffy frowned and turned back around. They didn't say another word until she finished with the hot cocoa, and sat down beside him, two steaming mugs in her hands.

Spike took one gratefully, watching her lips push forward as she blew away the heat rising from her own cup. Those lips could distract him in the middle of gore filled battle even if she was standing twenty feet away, he was sure of it.

"Spike?" Her voice shook his thoughts easily, and the vamp found himself smiling at her as she frowned down at her hot cocoa. "I have a question."

She paused. He waited.

"I know this thing is... real. At least, I believe it is." She met his eyes briefly. "I mean, I can feel you, and you haven't killed me yet so I don't think you're lying about having the same weirdo connection to me."

Spike put his mug down and gripped her arm, gently, but the look in his eyes was intense and they kept Buffy still just as surely as his fingers holding her. "I am not going to kill you."

She nodded, still staring into the blue of his heartfelt eyes. They almost always looked that way when he stared at her, or was trying to get her to see something or believe him. Only when he was angry did they flash like canon fire, and even then, Buffy wasn't all too sure he aimed at her. "I haven't thought you would try for a while now." Probably since the first kiss, in all honesty, but she didn't want to say that. "But you can thrall me. You talked about magick. How do I know that what I feel, what maybe the both of us feel, isn't fake or manufactured?"

"It's not."

"How do we know? How can we be sure? For all your strength and vampire savvy, you could be under a spell, too. If spells-"

He cut her off with a kiss. It was light, soft, nothing like anything they'd really tried before. Her fingers slipped away from the warm mug of hot chocolate, rising slowly. Her eyes closed, and she felt his hand touch her cheek, sliding back into her hair.

He came forward and then she was moved, repositioned, but she didn't think too much about that. She felt his other hand wrap around her ribs, touching her back, and somewhere in her thoughtless awareness Buffy understood his message. *No spell could forge this...*

Even if one could, where on earth would the magick come from? Surely not him, a vampire. What kind of evil vamp would tie himself to a human? What kind of anything cared enough to do this to them? The answer was no one. Just fate. Or chance or whatever. The fact was that somewhere in both of their lives, they had become fit for one another, like puzzle pieces. It was only luck they had found each other in a dusty little deadly town in California.
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END NOTES: Please review! *hugs*





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