A/N: So here I am at school, just thinkin' hard about, but not actually working on, the 5 essays and 2 presentations I have to do before the end of this month and what do I do instead of heading over the my school's library website to do some much needed research? I go re-read a few reviews and remember that once upon a time someone asked me to write this…

There's a soft knock at the door and they both shrug it off, convinced it's the wind, and go about their business. There's a second, more defined, knock and they both groan as a voice adds to the pounding.

"Hello? Anybody hoooomme?"

Sam groans, burying his face in a pillow. "Maybe if we're quiet he'll just figure we're not home and go away."

Another knock. "Guys, the lights are on downstairs…"

They wait a moment or two in silence, hoping he'll give up.

"Guys? It's cold out here…"

The buzzing from the nightstand draws their attention next, and they both stare down the device.

"It's yours."

"So let's ignore it," he whispers, trying to pick up where he left off.

"Sam…"

He groans, knowing full well he has to answer it. "Hello… Uh…" he glances with a frown at Jules, who is already in the process of getting dressed. "Yeah I'll be right down," he grumbles into the phone before replacing it on the nightstand. "I'll get rid of him and be back in five."

"Do what you want, I'm going to sleep."

"But Jules…"

She glares at him from her side of the bed. "You know damn well nothing's going to happen if he's sleeping here. And he will be sleeping here because you know he'll never willingly get back into a cab."

He frowns. "Well, what am I supposed to do about this?"

"You need to have a talk with him," she says simply, adjusting her pillow.

Sam gives a small nod - this has been going on far too long - and grabs the first pair of pants he sees before leaving the room, carefully closing the door behind him. As he reaches the foot of the stairs by the door he realizes the knocking hasn't stopped, simply turned into a series of half-hearted pats on the window.

"What do you want, Spike?"

"Samtastic!" he exclaims as the door opens, graciously stumbling in. "How's it going?"

Sam raises an eyebrow at the man who is now in the middle of his living room and reluctantly closes the door behind him. "How was the bar? Could Raf not give you a ride home?"

"It was good. We split a cab. His house is on the way here so I figured I'd drop by, say 'hey'," he tells him, absently flipping through the magazines on the coffee table. "So hey. What's up?"

My frustration level. He watches as Spike stumbles aimlessly around the room, making small talk about everything he sees, from pictures on the mantle to the socks that were left on the floor. He might not want him there, but he needs to do something. "Let me get you some water."

Spike's head shoots up from the picture's he's been examining, suddenly bursting with excitement. "Ok!" He exclaims, following Sam into the kitchen and promptly plopping himself down in the first chair he finds. As he starts to drink the glass of water placed in front of him his excitement fades, and he simply stares at the glass, drawing lines in the condensation with his fingers.

Sam sighs, taking in his friend's sad expression. "Spike, buddy, why are you really here?"

Spike shrugs, not yet pulling his eyes away from the glass. "Well, I was going to go home, but that's boring. There's no one to talk to. Nat's out of town still, and the Boss' place is too far away. So then I thought, 'hey, haven't seen Samtastic and Jules in a while'."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "We work together. We've only been off shift for 6 hours."

"That's not the same!" Spike laughs at his friend's simplistic reasoning, his excitement quickly returning to his face. "So, what should we do? Wanna watch a movie? Or maybe a board game? Where's Jules? I haven't beaten her at poker in a while…"

Sam sighs - now's as good a time as any. "Spike, this has got to stop."

"No more poker?"

"No more midnight visits."

Spike jolts back in his chair in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Spike," Sam begins, unsure of exactly how to explain it. "Jules and I… we don't… uhm… it's not that we mind you visiting, you're our friend after all, it's just…" His sentence falls short as he realizes he has no idea how to say it.

"But Samtastic, don't we always have such good times? And your guest bed is just so comfy…" Spike tells him, dazedly staring off towards the stairs that lead to the bed in question.

"That's all great Spike, but Jules and I… we're in a relationship here…"

Spike stares, waiting for his friend to continue. "…and? Does that mean we can't be friends anymore?"

Sam rubs at his face in frustration and sits down in the chair across the table from Spike, determined to get it over with. "Spike, let me make this easier for you. We love you, really, we do. And you're always welcome, but you're going to need to start calling ahead unless it's an emergency - and no, running out of ding-dongs does not qualify as an emergency."

"But Saaam…" Spike whines, pouting across the table at him. "Good times…" he repeats.

"Yes, Spike, we have good times," he tells him, determined not to break his friend's confidence in he process. "Thing is, when you show up in the middle of the night, it means me and Jules don't get to have good times." He waits patiently as Spike stares blankly at him.

Spike tilts his head to the side slightly, then to the other.

Sam raises an eyebrow at his friend, not believing that even in his intoxicated state he could be that confused by the comment.

"You don't have…" Spike mumbles, mostly to himself, as he tries to piece things together. "You and -" he pauses mid sentence, and his eyes widen as realization dawns upon him.

Sam gives a small nod, glad that his friend is starting to piece things together.

Spike furrows his brow as he looks at him. "Is that why it takes you so long to answer the door?"

Sam laughs. "Yes, yes it is."

"I'm so sorry…" Spike laughs, then pauses a moment in thought. "But why didn't you just ignore the door? I would have."

Sam glares at his friend in disbelief. "Because Spike, the last time we ignored the door you thought something horrible had happened and broke a window so you could make sure we were both still alive."

"It was the responsible thing to do!" Spike sighs to himself and starts to rise out of the chair, trying desperately to ignore the spinning room before him. "I'll leave now. Call me a cab?"

Sam shakes his head and reaches out to steady the man. "Nah, you can stay here for the night."

Spike looks up at Sam in surprise. "Really, but what about…?" he trails off, replacing the rest of the sentence with various lude gestures.

Sam cringes. "Too far Spike. Besides, that went out the window when you showed up. Come on, I'll bring your water upstairs for you."

Spike sighs, accepting his friend's help up the stairs. "I'm sorry I interrupted. It won't happen again," he whispers as they reach the guest room.

"It's ok Spike. I'll get you back sometime," Sam smiles, leading the stumbling man to the bed. "Goodnight Spike," he says as he leaves the room.

"Goodnight Sam," Spike mumbles, before clearing his throat in an effort to be louder. "Goodnight Jules!" he hollers across the house.

"Goodnight Spike," comes Jules' half conscious voice.

Spike smiles to himself as he settles in among the pillows, silently grateful he has such good friends. He begins thinking about who will fill in as their replacements now that Sam's asked that he not come over. Maybe Ed, he's probably up with Izzy all night anyway. He feels a little bad for Sam - he's shown up at his and Jules' house three times this week, and yet Sam was so very kind as he explained everything to him…

His world spins a little faster as he jolts up in bed. "Hey Sam? What do you mean get me back?"

There's no answer, though he's sure he hears a snicker from somewhere down the hall.