Giles sat drinking his glass of whiskey as he stared at the phone. Having already drank at least five glasses- he had lost count- he was quite certain he was officially drunk. Rather shakily, Giles raised his glass only to discover he had once again drained his drink. Sighing slightly, he pitched forward in an attempt to stand. Wobbling slightly, he made it upright, but managed to drop his glass. It hit the shag-like carpet with a dull thud, which seemed to echo in his empty house. Apartment. Flat. At this point he wasn't sure what to call his home. Almost seven months of living in America and certain phrases stuck. He dragged his foot forward, intending to walk to the small table that held the decanter of whiskey. However, he didn't make it farther than his couch, where he promptly collapsed on the cushions with a groan. He was out like a light the instant his head hit the cushion. His snoring drowning out the ringing of the phone.

"Mr. Giles, it's Joyce, Buffy's mom. I was wondering if I could talk to you. I think Buffy may be experiencing delusions, and I was hoping, since you're so close to her, that maybe you can talk to her and get her to see someone. Well, I hope you get this message soon and get back to me with some ideas. Thank you."

Spike ran his hand up and down Buffy's arm. He hadn't slept long; every half hour Buffy would start mumbling and thrashing. At one point she had whimpered and starting crying again. Spike wasn't sure what to do to dispel the nightmares, so at first he rocked her, which helped against the thrashing and mumbling, but not against the crying. So he sang. At first it was just a little lullaby he remembered, shockingly, from his childhood. It quieted her crying to a occasional sniffle, before she quieted completely. He then found that the constant petting motion prevented her from making any noise or movement, so he continued the action to allow Buffy to get the amount of sleep needed to recover from the emotional upheaval she experienced. He was willing to sacrifice one night of sleep if it meant Buffy got the rejuvenating rest she needed.

He watched her as she now peacefully slept. He could see her chest rise and fall with the unneeded breaths she subconsciously took. He could hear the slight shifting of the air as it was expelled, only for it to be inhaled back. He could smell the diminishing sour scent of distress, which was slowly being replaced by a mix of Buffy's natural scent and what he assumed was his own. One thing he learned about having a heightened sense of smell is that sensory adaption happens quicker. It wasn't until Buffy unofficially moved in that he began to notice that his crypt even had an odor, although his heightened senses could be the reason that he could detect such a minute thing like that. He broke out of his reverie when he felt Buffy burrow her nose into his chest, and he heard a small sigh escape.

"I'm hungry." Buffy mumbled without opening her eyes. Spike was sure he would have jumped if he hadn't heard the slight intake before she spoke.

"Blood or human food?" He didn't even bother questioning the desire for human food. After two nights of watching her eat, first it was Chinese then she wanted Italian, he decided that he didn't care if she wanted human food. As long as it was what made her happy. And she seemed perfectly fine with drinking his blood, although that meant he had to ingest more blood himself so that she wouldn't drain him to the point of weakening.

"Neither. Both. Arrg. I can't tell." He could feel her sigh. "I want something spicy. But I don't like spicy food. Why would I want something spicy when I don't like spicy things?" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He could see that her eyes were no longer glassy like they were this morning, but pain still clouded the beautiful green.

"Don't know, pet. Although I suspect that it might be why some people love a scent or food only to end up hating it later. Tastes change." Buffy merely hummed at his logic. He watched as her brow furrowed. "What?"

"I just realized. I haven't patrolled once since I became a vampire."

"And that's important because?"

"Well, no one else is going to keep the other, more reckless vamps in check. How many people have died because I didn't do my job?" Panic started to creep into her voice, coloring her words.

"Relax. Giles probably took care of that. After all, a new Slayer should have been called. And, many places, in fact everywhere but Sunnydale, aren't protected by a Slayer to combat the demon population. Yet there are still humans, right? We don't slaughter huge groups of humans; we leave that to humans." He got a small giggle out of her, which was his desired response. "Look, if it will ease your mind, on our way to get food we'll do some patrolling." She simply smiled and burrowed her nose into his chest.

"Cats or dogs?"

"Um. never had either, pet. Although, I think I'd be more of a cat person." Somehow they had ended up asking each other questions as they wandered the streets. It started with Buffy mentioning that they didn't really know much about each other. "What about you?" In a way, the twenty questions was more of a way to pass the time: they saw no activity, human or otherwise, during their patrol.

"Both have their merits, but I'd say I am a dog person." She strolled along, her hands clasped behind her back. Not really in a hurry to go anywhere, they walked at a leisurely pace, alternating who asked questions as they went.

"If you could go anywhere, where would you go?" He glanced over at her. The fresh air-despite the fact that she doesn't need it-seemed to help her mood, but not completely lift the gloom.

"The Fairy Pools in the Isle of Skye."

"Scotland? Really? Why?"

"When my parents were going through the divorce, I often looked up top getaway places. That was one of them." she looked down at her shoes. "This was also when my mom thought I was delusional, and it would have been a nice change. Not having to worry about if I'm going to die on my next patrol or if mom was going to catch me climbing in my window and send me back to the mental institute. It was-"

"Buffy!" Willow's voice rang out. Both vampires turned around to see Willow sprinting to catch up to them. Seconds later Xander appeared, clearly out of breath as he tried to follow the much quicker Willow.

"What's wrong Red?"

"It's Giles! He's unconscious." Willow supplied.

"Can you tell what was wrong?" Buffy asked, concern filtering through.

"No, but his whiskey supply looked to have been halved." Buffy sighed, clearly not wanting to deal with a drunk Watcher, who she was still slightly mad at.

"Fine. Let's go. But you so own me food."

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Papers for school and writer's block are non-mixy things. Unlike Coke and Rum.

Anyway, for my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels.

For my non-American readers (if my Visitor by Country graph doesn't lie) Happy Thursday.

Just an FYI, I'm running out of clever or fitting titles to name the chapters. So if they suddenly are named boring names, like chapter 15 or 16, that's why. I've never been good at picking chapter names or even story titles.