Spuffy fluff! Spuffy fluff! Sing it with me now!
“Hey,” she protested, grabbing his arm, still half asleep.
“What the hell are you doing asleep on your bedroom floor?” he whispered.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she whispered back, very groggily. “You wouldn’t come up, so I came down.”
It was all coming back to him. She had woken him shortly after he dozed off, prodding him on the shoulder, telling him she was having bad dreams and could he just join her on the bed and she swore she wouldn’t try anything funny? Spike had tried to be gracious and declined as gallantly as he could, what with a raging hard-on and all. He told her to go back to bed, she was probably talking in her sleep, and that’s when she grabbed a cover and plopped down on the floor next to him, curling into him like a little fluffy bunny.
Said fluffy bunny’s pert backside was pressed up against him and his back was literally up against the wall. He tried to move away without disturbing her.
“Quit squirming and go back to sleep,” Buffy whispered. Just then the bedroom door squeaked open and they both froze.
“Buffy?” came Dawn’s voice.
Long pause. Finally Buffy sat up.
A light from down the hall threw shadows through the room. Dawn peered into the darkness and saw her sister’s head. “What are you doing on the floor?”
“Hmm. Interesting question,” Buffy said, trying to sound normal. Spike was crawling past her trying to get under the bed. “My back. Was killing me. From all the, um, slaying I’ve been up to.”
Dawn entered the room and sat on the bed.
“I can’t sleep.”
Spike was now fully hidden under the bed. “Is your head okay?” Buffy asked.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Is everything okay with you? I heard you and Giles… I thought I heard you arguing.”
Buffy sighed. “Not okay. But not the end of the world. He just did something pretty lame and it made me mad.”
“Okay, as long as you’re okay.”
Spike listened to all this from underneath the bed. Staying still was hard for him, but somehow he managed.
“I’m okay.” Buffy got up off the floor sat down on the bed next to her sister. “I’ve got good news and weird news for you. Which do you want first?”
“Um, the good, please,” Dawn replied.
“Okay. Good news. Spike has been deactivated. The trigger doesn’t work anymore.”
Spike raised his eyebrows.
“Cool,” Dawn said. “It wasn’t the safest feeling, having him around when any minute he might go vamp-postal and start killing at random. Except if it was Kennedy. She really bugs the hell out of me. Today she yelled at me for leaving dishes in the sink. I really wish that bee-otch would stop being so bossy.”
Spike tried not to laugh out loud at that.
“Now what’s the weird news?” Dawn said.
“Spike is under the bed.”
There was a long, awkward pause. Suddenly Spike heard the bed creak, and then he saw Dawn’s hair touch the ground, followed by Dawn’s upside down head coming into view.
“Uh, hey, Dawn.”
“Is there any particular reason why you’re under Buffy’s bed?”
“Not a valid one, no.”
Spike slid out from underneath it and Dawn helped him stand up. Buffy was sitting on the bed with a mischievous grin on her face. Spike shot her an angry look, then turned toward Dawn. “We weren’t doing anything, you know. Just sleepin’.”
Dawn held up her hands. “Hey, none of my business. Really don’t need to hear the details. So how did you get deactivated anyway?”
Spike glanced at Buffy. Buffy glanced at Spike.
“Long, boring story.”
“Like all your stories?” Dawn said, but with a joking tone.
“Watch it or I’ll hit you with another piece of furniture,” he replied sternly.
“Oooh, scary. Grrrr.” Dawn made a face at Spike and Spike made a face at her and Buffy just smiled. “I’m going back to bed.”
“You can stay here, Dawn, if you want,” Buffy suggested. Dawn raised her eyebrows and looked at the two of them in shock.
“Ew! No thanks. Just keep it down in here, okay?” She turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.
Spike put his hands in his pockets and just shook his head, confused. “This,” he said, “has been a very, very strange day.”
“Even for Sunnydale standards,” Buffy agreed. She was sitting on the bed, feet on floor, watching him. Spike had the very distinct feeling that he had no bloody idea what to do next.
“C’mere,” Buffy said. Spike stepped forward so that he was standing right in front of her. Buffy put her arms around his waist and squeezed him tight, her face pressed against the flat of his stomach. It was so unexpected, so odd. Spike could not remember being hugged by her, ever. It was extremely strange and… well, nice. He put his arms around her shoulders.
“Sun’ll be up soon,” he said. He touched her hair, hesitantly. When she didn’t pull away it away he pushed the hair away from her face and just played with it. She made a “mmmm” sound, which made him absurdly happy for some reason.
“Then close the blinds tight,” she whispered. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and closed the blinds. She moved over to make a space for him on the bed. He didn’t hesitate, just kicked off his shoes, took off his jeans, and climbed in next to her. She fit perfectly in his arms and pressed her face into his neck, sighing with contentment. He stared up at the ceiling, pulling her close to him. All things considered, things were all right. This bed was bigger and more comfy than the cot in the basement, he was holding the woman he loved beyond measure, Dawn was starting to warm up to him again, and there were no pesky slayer brats in training in the room with them. He figured this was as good as it got for him and his sorry little unlife, until a few minutes later, when Buffy moved her hand down to touch his still raging hard-on.
Yeah, things just got a lot better.
Continued in Chapter 3