AN: This is amazing. I've rolled out two chapters for two fics, it's been the most productive weekend ever. I guess I'm on a roll. Not doing homework helps. Anyway, whatever, enjoy!

Chapter 8: Nightly Annoyances, Daily Surprises

The dead of night and the only sounds floating about the silent Summers house were the plaintive song of crickets and the unseemly snoring of the sleeping dead. Buffy was a light sleeper, but she didn't mind the accordion-like groans emitted from her bedmate. She just continued drifting through dreamy unconsciousness with Spike's arms draped over her protectively. She felt completely at peace this way, she never had nightmares while cuddled into his hold. Stirring in her sleep, she sighed in satisfaction as she brushed a leg against Spike's splayed one. Nothing could disturb her in this nighttime tranquility.

"Buffy!"

A whisper pierced the easy restfulness and Buffy's eyes flashed open. "Willow?" Her eyes were adjusting to the cloak of black, but she could make out Willow's nervous and fidgeting form standing beside the bed.

"Buffy, I'm hungry."

Buffy squinted over at the bedside clock. She groaned when she saw that it was only 3:00. "Willow, it's three in the morning," she sighed, sitting up halfway in bed.

"I know . . . but I can't go to sleep with how hungry I'm feeling."

Buffy dragged her tired self up fully. "Well we have plenty of food downstairs," she yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"I know. But I can't eat any of it."

"Willow . . . it's digest-able, all of it. Just avoid the V-8. I forget which bottles I switched with Spike's blood."

"That's not what I mean. The baby . . . it has a particular craving."

"A particular craving?"

"Sushi."

Buffy would have laughed if she weren't so groggy. "Oh. I guess this is one of those standard 'middle-of-the-night-I-gotta-have-this-specific-food-or-else-carnage-for-all' pregnancy things."

"Pretty much."

"Oh well, I guess Spike will just have to go downtown and get some." Buffy roused him roughly and he snorted awake. Flying up in bed, Spike's eyes fluttered open frantically.

"Wha, another apocalypse? I'm ready, hand me the weapons, what are we up against now? Hell-dogs? Zombies? Big ugly oversize tarantulas, what?" His head waved blearily, still showing signs of confused sleepiness.

"Not at the mo, dear. Willow's just hungry."

Spike sighed and sank back down into bed. "Oh. Spectacular."

Buffy smacked his bare chest. "That's your cue to be the nice souled beastie you are and mosey down to town to get what she wants."

Spike moaned dramatically. "Do I hafta?" he protested petulantly.

Buffy tried dragging him up from the sheets. "Spike, come on. What kind of vampire are you? You shame your nocturnal brethren."

"My nocturnal brethren don't have to worry about silly gits with hunger pangs in the middle of the night."

"Spike . . ."

Uh-oh. The "Spike" voice. The voice that was usually accompanied by the evil eye, but it was thankfully too dark to see Buffy administering it. The voice that usually meant a night spent on the couch downstairs if he wasn't careful. So Spike sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed and began to slip on a pair of jeans.

"Alright . . ." he sighed reluctantly. "Now what do want me to run and get from the store?"

"Sushi," Willow said firmly.

Spike whipped up his head. "Sushi? You're sending me out on a sushi run? There ain't a friggin' sushi place in the whole of Southern California that's open this late."

"Yoshi Yamato's that's downtown is. It's open 24 hours."

Spike continued whining. "I'm not going to trudge downtown when there's a Ralphs up the street. Can't you just make do with a raw salmon fillet?"

"No, I need sushi! And not any old sushi, I need uni."

"Una-what?"

"Uni. It's sea urchin."

"This is bloody ridiculous," Spike exploded. "I'm getting a pack of frozen fish sticks, you'll just have to gnaw on those for awhile!"

"Spike!"

Willow began to whimper, sniffling as her face fell. "Y-you don't understand, I n-need sushi! I need it! I was looking forward to eating it so much!" She began to break down into a teary mess. "The baby won't let me sleep until I have it!"

"Now look what you did!" reprimanded Buffy. "You made her cry! Fix it! Get her 'uno' crap! I mean it!"

"Alright, goddammit, I will!" Spike moaned, shrugging on a shirt. Willow perked up and sneaked a smile, ceasing the sniffling. "Yoshi Yamato, bloody soddin' unagi."

"Uni."

"Bloody, soddin' uni."

"Oh and Spike?" Willow brightened and held her hands hopefully when Spike tiredly turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Can you get me extra of the spicy green horseradish stuff? Wasabi?"

Spike trudged out of the bedroom, wondering if she would notice if he sneaked some arsenic to her as well.

"Ok, this is officially a trip for any food that Willow might crave," Buffy announced the next morning as she wheeled the shopping cart down the brightly lit grocery aisles. She sneaked a half-smile, half-grimace. "Wouldn't want a repeat of last night." Willow smiled sheepishly while Spike yawned a little over-dramatically.

"And how. Most respectfully Red, the next time you wake me up shall result in death."

"I can't help it, it's the hormones. I get crazy cravings all the time. The other day, I had the biggest urge to eat as many pickled eggs as I could find."

Buffy stuck her tongue out. "Ugh. I guess we'll need to stock up on those then."

"Hey Buffy, can we get these?" Spike held up a box of ridiculously colored snack foods. Buffy was a staunch advocate of trying to eat healthy, and that meant clearing the cupboards of any food rainbow-colored.

"You know we can't, Spike. It's totally fattening."

Spike looked down at his lean physique. "Umm . . . dead here. Not really concerned about packing on the pounds."

"Just because you're the living dead doesn't give you an excuse to let yourself go."

Spike sneered. "You never let us lot eat anything. And I may note, I don't consider that tasteless cardboard casserole crap you make anything."

Buffy put her hands to her hips. "You don't have to eat it, you know. You exist full well on the blood that, guess what? I provide. I swear, Sid the Butcher has stopped asking and just makes with the funny looks now."

"Well if I didn't eat it, you'd make a bloody ruckus like you're doing now. It's always 'Spike, you never appreciate my cookin', oh Spike just try it, Spike for the love of God try it or I'll stake you'," he cooed in a high, shrill falsetto that was supposed to mimic Buffy's harpy tendencies.

"Staking you sounds pretty appealing right now," Buffy said, eyes narrowing.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you've got me all good and shakin' Slayer. Four years really gives testament to the validity of your threats."

Willow was rolling her own eyes at the two. Fighting once more, surprise, surprise. And, to make it even more predictable, they would soon make up in a disgusting, profuse Public Display of Affection. It's what they always did. The routine was pretty tired. As the two continued sniping at each other, Willow, almost invisible to them, slipped off in search of the Tofurky Jerky she had been wanting for days.

Stepping into the organic food aisle, Willow browsed the racks for her jerky. Her eyes scanned all the similar-looking packages so intently that she didn't notice the young woman who bumped into her on the left.

"Oh, I'm sorry---" Willow started, looking up. But when she did, her eyes went wide and she was struck with silence.

Standing in front of her was a young woman about her age with short, cropped blonde hair with chunky black and pink streaks running through it. She was clad in a fish-net black mesh shirt over a tighter burgundy tank top with a glittering black cross embroidered on it. Over clunky black Doc Martens, she wore leather pants, held up by a huge studded belt. Various ropes of jewels and heavy crosses and beads circled her neck and wrists. She was so very different. Yet the face was exactly the same. The same as Tara McClay's.