Title:  Pillow Talk

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating:  PG so far.  That will change.

Disclaimer:  All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc.  Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Notes:  A Spuffy story that starts in early Season 6 before deviating from canon.   

Thanks: To Keswindhover and revdorothyl for the beta.

The story begins here.

Chapter 13

 As Buffy slipped off her apron, several people on line cried out in dismay.

“Where are you going?"

"Do you know how long we’ve been waiting?”

"Where's my lemon pound cake?"

Nancy stepped up to the cash register and said quickly, “She’s going out for—for more cakes. Great, big, white chocolate raspberry cheesecakes! In the meantime, I’ll take the next customer.” Out of the corner of her mouth, she hissed, “Get back fast!”

“As soon as I figure out what’s going on with the unnatural appetites.” Buffy closed her eyes and resisted the impulse to snatch a muffin off the tray Ned was carrying out of the back room. Several customers weren’t so polite, diving over the counter to snatch at the treats. Buffy shoved two of them back into line before they could overwhelm the three people behind the counter. Nancy was trying to fill a set of orders with one hand while ringing up new ones with the other, as she explained over and over which items had run out and what was still available. George’s hands were almost a blur as he—uh—she—uh…George coaxed shot after shot out of the espresso maker. There was banging in the back room as Bess worked the door to the oven. The youngest member of the demon family had arrived a few minutes earlier, and Nancy had put her to work, waving aside a story about the high school being closed for the day.

Buffy had immediately thought of Dawn, while Nancy’s reaction had been, “magic.” She’d spit out the word with distaste, sent Bess to check on some scones, and told Buffy to do whatever was necessary to put an end to the latest Sunnydale follies.

“This is going to get out of control fast.”

Buffy could only nod. Nancy, Ned, and George had seemed completely unaffected, but she’d been having a hard time not grabbing food and coffee and swallowing it as fast as she could.

Forcing her mind away from thoughts of cheesecake (the kind with chocolate sauce drizzled over it), Buffy tried to slide between the end of the counter and the wall covered with black-and-white posters of an ugly little man with penetrating eyes and a variety of beautiful female companions. But she realized that the crowd of people trying to get into the shop was too large and growing, so she ducked quickly into the back room instead.

Bess had tied back her fuchsia hair and was wrestling with a tray of pastries that smelled orangey and delicious. Buffy grabbed a potholder and jumped forward, taking the tray away from Bess and transferring it safely to a metal counter.

"Thanks." Bess wiped her eyes with her sleeve, leaving streaks of purple eye shadow on her sleeve and her plump cheeks.
Buffy resolutely turned her back on the tray of scones. "Bess, what happened at the high school?"

"Some human weirdos vandalized all the vending machines. One idiot got hurt when a couple of hundred pounds of metal and Mountain Dew landed on him." She peered at Buffy. "Hey, aren't you Dawn Summers' sister? The Slayer?"
I really, really do suck at the secret identity business. "Yes! Did you see her today?"

Bess shrugged. "I guess so. I think she was with a bunch of other kids walking off. Going home, I guess." She turned away as Nancy shouted for reinforcements. "I gotta get these out there."

Buffy left Bess to provision the masses with yummy orange pastries and slipped out through the back door. She shied away from the man who was foraging in the cafe's dumpster. It wasn't that people digging through garbage and shoving anything remotely edible into their mouths was unknown in Sunnydale. She'd seen it a lot while patrolling. It was just that the dumpster divers weren't usually fat men wearing expensive business suits.

Buffy headed down the alley as fast as she could, but stopped to peer around the corner before stepping out onto the sidewalk lining Sunnydale's main street. The crowd pushing its way into the café now covered half the block. There were similar lines at two small restaurants, and there appeared to be a small riot going on at the grocery a few blocks away. Three police cars were parked across the street, but the cops weren't trying to sort out the chaos. Buffy could see several uniforms in the pizza shop, up at the head of the mob surrounding the counter.

So much for stereotypes. I would have guessed they'd be at the donut shop.

Mmm, donuts.

She raced past some vaguely-familiar guys who were fighting over Happy Meals in front of a black van and resolutely charted a course to Revello Drive that wouldn't take her past the Krispy Kreme shop. She had to get the town out of this jam, with or without a spoon, but she was pretty sure there was no recipe for handling this disaster in the Slayer Handbook. As soon as she'd checked on Dawn, Buffy had to find a real authority. She wondered if Jenny Craig had an emergency number.
Buffy burst through the back door, calling Dawn's name and startling her sister, who was standing over the sink, holding a fork in one hand and a plastic dish in the other.

"You're here!"

Dawn obviously didn't hear the relief in Buffy's voice because her own tone was defensive. "I'm not skipping! There was, like, a mega-food fight even before the first lunch period and they sent us all home."

"I know. Bess told me."

Dawn swallowed a mouthful of something orange. "Bess?"

"What are you eating?" Buffy sniffed the air and then wished she hadn't as her stomach growled a demand.

"Too much." Dawn opened the microwave door and took out a steaming package. "I think it's some hormonal weirdness. I've heated up two of these Mac and Cheese things already, and I don't even remember putting the third one in. I mean, I like them, but—"
Buffy interrupted. "It's a spell, Dawn. We're all under some kind of spell."

Dawn looked down at the fork she was digging into the mix of yellow goo and pasta. "Well, that just sucks. An anti-diet spell. Who could be that twisted?" She shoved the food away with a little frown of concentration.

Buffy leaned back against the fridge. "Tell me about it. I’m very disenchanted with magic these days."

Dawn was staring at her and Buffy realized how desperate she had sounded.

"We'll think of something, Buffy. I promise. We could ask, uh, Spike for help."

Buffy started to agree, then shook her head. Spike wasn't the obvious choice for researching magic. This spell must be messing with her head. Not that he didn't know a lot about the supernatural, but he was likely to—

"Spike!" She saw Dawn's eyes widen, and explained. "What if he gets really hungry too? What if he gets so hungry the chip won't stop him? What if--?"

Dawn grabbed Buffy's arms. "He's less likely than your average vampire to be affected. You should be worrying about the average vamps. It's—"

Buffy realized she was having something close to a temper tantrum, but she didn't care. She pushed Dawn away and started pacing around the kitchen. "I don't care about average vamps! I care about—"

The phone rang.

Buffy snatched up the kitchen extension. "Yeah?"

A man's voice she didn't recognize said, "Dawn?"

"Who's this?"

"Uh, Wayne." He didn't sound terribly sure.

Buffy glared at her little sister. The man on the phone didn't sound like a boy. "Who's Wayne?"

Dawn snatched the receiver and demanded, "What's up?" She fended Buffy away, backing into the hallway. "Crap. What's he doing? He isn't—uh—threatening you?" She turned her back on her sister. "Okay. Okay. Yeah, right away." She hung up the phone and faced Buffy again. "Geez, are you grabby or what? I know where Spike is."

Buffy blinked. "Where? That wasn't him!"

"He's at the butcher shop. He came up through the sewer system and wanted blood.

Wayne thought he was acting weird, even for Spike, so he called me."

"And who is Wayne?"

Dawn was halfway to the door already. "One of the butchers."

"And how does Wayne the butcher happen to have your phone number?" Buffy followed Dawn out the back door, started down the porch steps, and then remembered to go back and lock the door.

Dawn was standing in the yard, rolling her eyes and tapping her foot impatiently. "Buffy! He's, like, old. I met him last summer, when Spike got into a fight with a troll and showed up here too torn up to get his own blood. By the beginning of August, Wayne would deliver every time Spike tried to get himself killed, sometimes even before I called in an order."

Buffy blinked. Stupid vampire. Sounded like he'd been even more careless than usual.

And now he was worrying the butcher. She'd better help Dawn check on him before she went looking for Willow and Tara.

Not that she was trying to avoid the witches.

After all, she was the Slayer and it was her first and most scared duty to keep track of stupid, wayward vampires who might endanger a defenseless public (not to mention their own empty, peroxided skulls) while running around town in broad daylight.

Chapter 14

Please send feedback to: missmurchison@mchsi.com