2002

Sunnydale

Several mini liquor bottles littered the floor of the hotel room. Wesley was lying shirtless on the bed, his bad arm slightly limp at his side. Faith sighed, taking a long pull from one of the bottles. She was used to popping her *own* dislocated shoulder back into place, and it didn't hurt, but she was the Slayer.

"Oh, you poor thing." Faith muttered to herself, glancing at the form on the bed. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Wesley replied, his voice slightly slurred.

Faith tried to gather up her own courage and finished off the tiny bottle in her hand before tossing it aside. "OK...hold your breath."

She straddle his lap after he struggled himself to a sitting positing, then grasped his arm with one hand, steadying his shoulder with the other, "On the count of three. One...Two."

A loud scream as she popped the shoulder back, "Three."

"Bloody HELL!" Wesley howled, almost knocking her off his lap, "You said to the count of THREE!"

"It would've hurt worse if you knew when I was gonna do it." Faith insisted, "I'm sorry..."

"It's all right...Ow." Wesley leaned back, rotating his shoulder gingerly, closing his eyes.

Faith studied his face for a moment, impulsively reaching out to fix a stray bit of hair on his forehead. Wesley's eyes opened to stare at her a moment, before he leaned forward and captured her lips with his.

~*~

It was five in the morning when Buffy woke up, while it was still slightly dark outside, to find  Spike missing. She climbed out of bed, pulling on her robe as she went, then headed downstairs, careful not to make any noise in the silent house.

"Spike?" She whispered, glancing around the dark living room. After receiving no answer, she checked the dining room and kitchen, which were both empty. Then, she noticed the slight spark of a lighter through the window to the back porch, the tiny flame illuminating Spike's pale face as he lit the cigarette between his fingers. Buffy sighed and went outside.

"Do you have a death wish?" She demanded as she stood in front of him, hands on her hips.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow, playing dumb.

"The sun's going to rise ANY MINUTE." She hissed, "Get inside!"

Spike laughed, "I'll be fine, I have about ten minutes till I gotta worry."

"You're crazy."

"You may be right." He replied, "But I just may be the lunatic you're--"

Buffy sighed in exasperation and sat next to him on the step, "Shut up."

"What're you doing awake, anyway? You were dead to the world a few minutes ago."

"Slayer senses. You were gone." She replied, winking at him. "So...You're in a good mood at the moment, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Cause, that means it would be a good time to tell you..."

Spike watched her face warily, "Tell me what?"

"You get to go for your tux fitting tomorrow."

"Tux?"

"For the wedding."

"Ugh...Slay-er! NO!" He whined.

"Yes."

Spike sighed, "I have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine..."

"You're going with Angel and Xander as soon as the sun sets. OK? OK, bye." Buffy scrambled to her feet before Spike could react and darted into the house.

Spike sat there, dumbfounded, then hopped up, tossing his cigarette to the ground before chasing after her. Buffy squealed as she noticed him catching up, and she sped up, half-stumbling up the stairs as he caught the back of her robe. They were both laughing hysterically by the time he had her pinned, his fingers tickling her sides.

"You're sending me off with the whelp *AND* Angelus?" He demanded, his fingers still working their torture on her sides.

"Yeah, deal with it." She replied, pushing his hands away.

"AHEM!"

The two blondes quieted and looked up at the figure at the top of the stairs.

"Hi Dawnie." Buffy said softly, "Did we wake you up?"

"Yup."

"Sorry." Spike said with little inflection, "We'll be quiet now. We promise."

Dawn smirked, "Yeah...See you two in the morning. When *normal* people wake up."

After Dawn disappeared back into her room, Spike gave Buffy an inquisitive look, "Have we *ever* been normal?"