Title:  Pillow Talk

Author:  Miss Murchison

Rating:  NC-17

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.   A slight change in circumstances, a different decision or two, and you wind up with very different results.

Thanks: To Keswindhover and revdorothyl for the beta.

The story begins here.

This chapter marks the beginning of Part II of the story. The first part took the story from one kind of pillow talk to another. Part II begins with yet another conversation.

There will be three parts in all. There is a list of links to the individual chapters here.

Part II, Chapter 1

Buffy lay next to Spike, watching him in the dim light cast by the lamp that they'd been too tired or distracted to think of turning off before they'd fallen asleep.  He was lying on his side, a silly smile on his face.  His lips parted and she felt a gentle exhalation against her cheek.  Even though it was weird that he breathed when he was asleep, she would have found it stranger if he didn't.

This was the second morning that she'd woken to find him sleeping next to her.  It was also the second time in a row she'd fallen asleep physically exhausted and woken up rested.

She'd dreamed too. That was also weird.  She hadn't dreamed in a long time.  This one had been about Ted, of all things.  The dream started when he knocked her out when she found him trying to lock Dawn in.  Then Dawn slapped her awake and opened the door with an extra key she'd had made—little sneak!  Buffy couldn't make Dawn stay upstairs so she saw the whole fight, but then she stayed with Mom while Buffy got rid of the corpse—uh, the parts.  Then the dream had shifted and Buffy was in her room and hearing Ted downstairs with Mom.  He'd locked her in, so she kicked though the door, and went to get the iron skillet and—

Buffy shook her head to rid it of the new story the dream had written over her memories.  There was no reason to try to remember or analyze it.  It couldn't have been a Slayer dream, because it was about the past.  Besides, Ted had been rusting on a trash heap for years.

Spike didn't move when she got out of bed and began investigating the rest of his crypt.  She peeked through the rough opening in the wall that led to a small cave and then on to the sewers. 

Since Spike was already stealing electricity, cable, and probably lots of other stuff, it wasn't surprising he was stealing water from the Sunnydale Municipal Utilities.  He'd installed a showerhead over a crack in the cave floor so that the water would drain away, and he'd run another pipe to an ancient sink with a faucet that actually worked.  This looks promising.  Kind of.   She looked around for other facilities.  Vampire or not, anyone who drank as much alcohol and ate as many spicy chicken wings as Spike did would need—  As her eyes adjusted to the dark she found the hole in the floor.

Yuck.  But it was functional, and at least there was the sink, and soap, and a towel, and—yikes!—no hot water at all.  We are so very much sleeping at my place tomorrow.

She scampered back to the relative warmth of a bed in a cold, drafty crypt.  She didn't even notice Spike was sitting up and looking anxious until after she'd dived under the covers. 

"Thought for a moment you'd gone."

She peeked back out at him. "No.  I just, uh, had to go."

He started chuckling, looking suddenly really happy.

One thing about guys, they there is no pun too lame to make them laugh.  "Interesting plumbing arrangement you have back there."

"Facilities not up to your standard?  Well, now you know why I ask Dawn to let me shower at your place. "

Dawn. Reality settled over Buffy like graveyard mist.  She almost choked on it. 

It's not that I regret last night.  It's just that I'm not sure how I go on from here.  How we go on.

"Spike—"  She sat up, looking down at him with what she hoped was a stern expression.  But when she checked his reaction, he was staring at her breasts.  She pulled the sheet up over her chest and tried again.  "Spike, we need to talk."

That forced his eyes to her face.  "About those wankers from last night?"  His voice was hopeful.

"No, about some rules.  For us.  Well, for you."

He sat up too.  "Rules?"  His raised eyebrow said this hadn't been quite what he was expecting.  And certainly not what he'd been hoping.

"Yeah, rules.  About—about how you can't get away with certain things just because we—just because of last night."

He dropped back down, his hands behind his head. In contrast to this too-casual pose, his face had gone blank and expressionless again.  "And what things would that be?" he drawled.

"Well—"  She struggled to compose a mental list.  "Eating people, of course."  She peeked at him and swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.  "Stealing too.  Especially around Dawn.  And helping evil demons do evil things, and, and—well, I'm not really sure about the kitten poker. "

He was looking less amused now.  "I'm not your tame vampire, love."

"No.  You're not.  You never will be.  But I'm the Slayer and Dawn's sister and that means I have responsibilities.  Responsibilities which include keeping irresponsible vampires in check.  And if you think I'm going to let you get away with anything just because you got into my pants—"  She stopped and frowned as he snickered, then ended lamely, "Well, I won't let you."

He looked ready to argue, so she added, "Except for getting in my pants again.  You can do that."

It worked.  The smile was back, and his tone was teasing instead of angry. "Show me how you're going to stop me."  He pulled her down next to him.

She didn't resist, but she insisted, "I'm not kidding, Spike. Not about the rules. Please. I really don't—"

I don't want you to do something that will make me have to kill you.  She couldn't make herself say those words.

His eyes narrowed.  "We'll work it out, love.  And in.  And out. And in—"

"Idiot!"  She shoved him, rolling him over so that she was on top again.  "Stupid vampire."

"Does this mean you don't love me for my mind?" He was trying to pout.

"What mind?"

"I'm starting to think you don't really care."

She was about to retort when she realized there was an undertone of real anxiety in his voice.  I'm not the only one with doubts.  I wonder how long it's going to take for him to get over them?

Probably about the same amount of time you spent instilling them.  You fixed last night's mistake, but that doesn't mean the end of arguments and misunderstandings. 

He still hasn't promised to behave. 

You still haven't convinced him that you love him.

Still uncertain she had her priorities right, she said, "I love you."

His grin went all goofy again, but he demanded, "Prove it!"

This led to more goofiness and giggling, which led to rolling around on the sheets, which led to other things.

"Believe me now?" she said at last.

He was lying on his back, his expression now past goofy and on to loopy.  "I can manage to believe six impossible things before breakfast, if you're going to prove them like that."

"Well, you're going to have to settle for one because I don't have time for five more, even though I'm sure you're up for it."  She slipped out of bed and started looking for her clothes.  "I have places to go, coffee to serve, van owners to find, and heads to knock together."

"You promised to let me help with that."

"If you're right and they're human—"  He looked so disappointed she reconsidered.  "I'll find a way for you to help.  We can't kill them, and you can't even hit them, so I might need help coming up with a not-so-evil plan to contain them."

"Neither of us is a specialist in non-violence, love."

She shrugged.  "Anyway, before I settle down to serious plotting, I need to go where there is actual hot water and take a shower. And get to work on time, and do some urgent asking for an advance on my paycheck."

"From Nancy?" He snickered.  "Good luck with that."

"She might say 'yes.'  I think she likes me a lot better than she likes you."

He pretended to sulk.  "Don't know what she has against me." 

She looked at him, lounging naked on the bed, smirking up at her lazily, and thought of practical, ambitious Nancy.  "Yeah.  I'm sure you're soul mates, and she just hasn't realized it yet.  Anyway, you seem to get along with George."  She picked up her jeans and twisted around, looking at him speculatively.  If he could tell about those three idiots in the van…  "Uh, about George.  I mean, there's something I've been wondering.  About h—  About—"  This is too stupid.  If I say I can't tell, he'll just laugh at me.

But he was laughing at her already.  "The answer you are seeking a question for is 'both.'"

"Both what?" At first she thought he'd guessed the question wrong, and then she realized what he meant.  "Both?  You mean?"

"The word's 'hermaphrodite.'  Very common among Luzorians."

"Wow."  She stood at the end of the bed, her shirt in her hands, her imagination rocketing into overdrive.

He sat up, frowning.  "Here now, I can make some rules too.  And one of them is no shagging other blokes—uh, demons, uh, anything that isn't me!"

She gasped indignantly.  "I would never!"

"Yeah, well, after last night, I think you would do just about anything.  Ow!"  He tried to whine, but he had started smiling like a lunatic again the moment she dove back on the bed, and she knew she hadn't hit him that hard.  He grabbed the fist she had no intention of using on him again, and pulled her down beside him.  "Just remember whose girl you are."

"Possessive, much?"  She shook him off and rolled off the bed before she could be too tempted to stay.  "But I promise to engage in no sexual harassment in the workplace."

"Buffy?"  He sounded serious. 

She turned, one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. 

"Will you come back here tonight?"  Now he sounded worried.

"I—"  She wavered, the world rushing back over her.  It was a few seconds before she noticed how his face had closed off at her hesitation.  Stupid much, Buffy?  Making last night's mistake again, in record time.  "Maybe you should come to the house as soon as it's dark.  I mean, I don't know what's going on with Willow, and it's a school night for Dawn, so she'll be home, and I don't know if there'll be anyone with her if we're not there, and your plumbing is such crap, and—"

And it was okay.  She could see it in his face.  "I'll be there, Buffy."

"And we'll make plans then," she finished lamely. 

"Together?"  The question was a challenge.

"I guess."  She had a thought and found herself smiling.  "But this time, maybe you can deal with Dawn when she wants to know if we've done it yet."  She laughed at his expression, hoisted herself up the ladder, and ran through the upper level of his crypt and out into the sunlight.  She really had to rush if she was going to get to work on time.

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