theblueeyedvampire:
Spike stirred from his spot on the couch in the living room. It seemed every other night, Dawn would wake herself up screaming and crying from nightmares… and since the witches had sound-proofed their room, he was always the one tending to the grieving little sister… and then muffling his own sobs into one of the couch cushions afterwards.
But tonight… the voice wasn’t Dawn’s. Groggily, the lovelorn vampire sat up and glanced into the kitchen… and his unbeating heart clenched violently at the sight and scent that greeted him. Standing sharply, he blinked, certain he was hallucinating. “Buffy? Is… that can’t be you, pet… can it?”
That all-too-familiar twist in her stomach jolted her to a stop as she passed through the living room, almost missing the blonde sat on the couch entirely. She backtracked, circling around to get a look at the stranger who had called her by name--and ‘pet.’ Usually that paired with the fact that her Slayer senses were all tingly meant that he had it out for her, but he looked floored not fang-y. Confused herself, Buffy tossed up her hands, ❝ Uh.. yeah! Who the hell’re you? And what are you doing in my house? Did my mother invite you in? Did you hurt her? ❞ She ended her string of inquiries rather venomously, ready to kick in the leg of the coffee table to stake him with should he give her an answer she didn’t like.












