It was a little after one when Buffy and Spike finally left her room. He
had gone downstairs a few minutes before to tell everyone that she was
finally awake, but the raised eyebrows and ill-concealed smirks told him
that the message was already old news. "I'm hungry," Buffy said absently as
they walked down the stairs. Spike bit back a teasing remark about her
needing to get back to a healthy size, instead commenting, "Red was
whipping something up when I left. Nothing like French toast at 1:30 in the
bloody morning, huh pet?" Buffy raised her eyebrow cockily, "food criticism
from the man who eats deep-fried onions?" Before Spike could protest, she
tightened her grip on his bicep, the corded muscle rippling beneath the
thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Despite the late hour, light filled the entire house, giving the foyer a soft glow. As they walked into the kitchen, Buffy's hand traced idle patterns on Spike's shoulder blades. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, the tips of his fingers teasing the bit of her tanned stomach that peeked out from beneath her tank top. Buffy smiled, noticing that the atmosphere around her had changed; the omnipresent trepidation before the Battle had been lifted, leaving a tranquil peace. She paused in the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her friends flit around the small space as though it was perfectly normal to make breakfast in the middle of the night. Xander and Dawn were sitting at the table laughing and bickering about something, while Giles leaned against the central island just watching. Anya had her head stuck in the refrigerator and she was asking Willow what kind of bread she needed. The Wiccan rolled her eyes in amusement, answering Anya's question without taking her eyes off the sizzling frying pan. Angel had his back to the Scoobies; he was staring blankly out the back window, waiting for the microwave to finish heating his midnight snack.
Spike let go of Buffy's waist, giving her a gentle push into the bustling kitchen. She licked her lips and chirped, "hi guys," her voice perkier then it had been in weeks. The light din of conversation stopped abruptly, all eyes turning towards the petite blonde. Dawn let out a squeal, launching herself into her sister's arms. Blinking back the tears that were threatening to overflow, Buffy squeezed Dawn tightly. She smoothed her sister's chestnut hair, resting her cheek against Dawn's head. The teenager broke the embrace to lightly smack her sister on the shoulder, "that's for scaring me like that," she snapped, but there was no malice in her voice. Buffy ruffled Dawn's smooth hair, "love you too Dawnie," she muttered, her eyes dancing with laughter. Spike just leaned against the doorframe, content to watch Buffy embrace the people she loved and would die to protect. Hugs and tears continued to fill the kitchen, excited voices clamoring for a moment of the Chosen One's attention. Angel remained fixated next to the sink, pretending to be completely absorbed by the garnet liquid in his coffee cup, but really watching his Grand-Childe carefully. He did not understand the relationship between Buffy and Spike, but knew that this was not the time to confront her about it.
Wriggling out of Willow's crushing hug, Buffy turned to Giles. The former Watcher was perched on a stool, cleaning his glasses furiously. She laid a tiny hand on his arm, craning her head to meet his downward gaze until teacher and student were eye to eye. "We won," she said, it was more of a statement then a question, just something to break the awkward silence that existed between them. He nodded, not knowing what to say, there were so many questions that he wanted to ask but this was not the right time for them. "I'm proud of you Buffy," he said, wrapping his right arm around her, mindful of his mending shoulder. She smiled, "thanks Giles." Raising her voice slightly, Buffy asked, "now not to break up the big welcome back party, but I was told that there was breakfast for the conquering heroes." Willow broke in, sliding a plate piled high with food onto the table, "here you go, fabulous French toast that is completely magic-free and only slightly singed. And what I think is bacon and some orange juice that we found." Buffy giggled, digging headfirst into the meal, "thanks guys," she mumbled between mouthfuls.
The next few hours passed quickly and soon pale pinkish purple rays of light began to streak the sky. Piles of dishes sat forgotten in the sink and several glasses littered the countertop. The house was silent, all its occupants asleep after a long night of catching up. In the living room, Buffy was curled up next to Spike on the couch, her feet tucked neatly under her body and her head nestled against his shoulder. Angel was slumped in one of the smaller chair, he had somehow fallen asleep in the tiny desk chair and no one had moved him to another one. Xander was stretched out in the armchair across from the vampire, his legs hanging over the armrest and his feet grazing the coffee table. On the dining room table, Giles lay draped over a pile of books; he had been researching the First, making sure that the beast was indeed gone for good, when he had succumbed to exhaustion. Willow was stretched out next to her laptop, too tired to scour the Web in search of obscure prophecies. Upstairs, Dawn was nestled amongst the sea of stuffed animals and pillows that covered her bed. Anya was in a half-sitting position on the floor with her back braced against the teenager's bed, her head resting on her knees.
Spike felt Buffy shift in his embrace and tipped his head sideways to gaze down at her. "Good morning," she whispered, trying to assure herself that she wasn't dreaming. Spike kissed her nose, "good morning to you too, pet. Although by my internal clock, it's more like mid-afternoon." Moving his lips downward, he brushed feather-light kisses over her lips and chin, eliciting a soft purr from the woman beneath him. "That's because you're weird," she murmured softly, turning her head to capture his lips between hers. Spike chuckled, breaking the kiss to look into Buffy's green eyes. "But you love me," he muttered, nibbling gently on her earlobe. She sighed in contentment, arching her head back to give Spike better access, "you've got me there." Spike growled in mock-frustration, "say it again," he ordered, his voice rough with adoration. Buffy quirked her eyebrow playfully, "you're weird," she teased, her eyes dancing with laughter. Two can play that game, he thought as he nipped at the sensitive spot right above her jugular vein. "Spike, stop," she moaned, feebly protesting the exquisite torture he was putting her through. His eyes twinkled with amusement, "quiet now luv, don't want to wake up your mates." She shot straight up, noticing for the first time that they were not alone; a rich blush colored her cheeks as Spike's lips twitched in silent laughter. "Relax sweetness," he murmured in her ear, "they won't wake up as long as you're quiet." Buffy bit back a sarcastic comment, losing all train of coherent thought as Spike continued to kiss her lips, his icy fingers flitted over her exposed collarbone leaving a thin trail of goose-bumps.
Buffy moaned into Spike's mouth, her eyelids fluttered shut as she lost herself in the desire coursing through her. Breaking the kiss she squirmed in his lap, swinging her left leg over his body so she was straddling his muscular body. "I love you," she purred, leaning in to kiss him again, but he ducked his head away, "say it again." She feigned a pout but complied with his request; when he looked at her, his azure eyes filled with adoration, it was impossible to deny him. "Love you too Buffy," he rasped low in his throat, "love you so much." She smiled in contentment before sliding her hands up his chest, sliding the black cotton shirt over his alabaster six-pack.
Before Spike could divest himself of the t-shirt, a low "ahem," cut through their passion-hazed minds. Buffy froze for a moment before swinging her legs around until she was sitting on Spike's lap, a guilty expression on her face. She kept her eyes trained on the Oriental rug in front of her, embarrassed that she and Spike had been groping each other on the sofa while people were sleeping three feet away from them. Angel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not really knowing what to say to the blonde couple. The arm encircling Buffy's waist tightened possessively as Spike stared at his Grandsire, his eyes challenging the older vampire to say something. If possible, Buffy's face flushed an even deeper shade of maroon, looking everywhere except at Angel. "I'll be right back," she squeaked, leaping off Spike's leg and practically sprinting towards the bathroom, leaving the two vampires to stare at each other across her living room.
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and sneered at Angel. "Like the show mate," he snapped, his entire body poised for the seemingly inevitable fight with the one person he could never completely replace in Buffy's mind. To Spike's surprise, the elder vampire crossed the room and sat next to him. "Did you mean what you said," he asked his voice low and melancholy, "do you love her?" Spike swallowed nervously and lacking a sarcastic barb, he answered honestly, "with all my soul." The answer seemed to please Angel, "you're a good man William." His expression changed and he clasped Spike's shoulder firmly, "but I swear if you hurt her, I'll stake you myself." Spike nodded, watching Angel walk in the direction of the kitchen. Once the taller vampire had vanished from view, Spike allowed himself to release the breath of air he had been holding. A slightly goofy grin spread across his face when he thought about Angel waking up to the sight of Buffy wrapped up in the arms of another. "Poor sod," he murmured with genuine sympathy, knowing how much it hurt to not be first in the heart of his beloved; for years he had walked in the shadow of all the men Buffy had loved and knew how lonely it was to not be the one she needed.
Thick shades covered the kitchen windows, shielding the room from the brilliant sunlight outside. Buffy had her back to the doorway, rubbing a terry cloth rag over the dripping ceramic mug in her hands. For a moment Angel just stood cemented to the floor, watching her humming softly to herself as she dried the dishes. He knew that it was Spike who made her glow with contentment; Buffy exuded a blissful happiness that he had not seen in years. Buffy had wiped all the remaining water droplets off the dishes and was stacking them carefully in a cabinet when she noticed the dark-haired vampire. Her cheeks blushed crimson again but she moved closer to him. "Sorry about that," she began, hating the way her voice cracked. Angel shook his head swiftly, resting his hands on Buffy's shoulders and brushing aside anything else she would have said. He looked down at her, noticing for the first time that she was a different person, the naïve teenager he had fallen in love with was just a memory. "Are you happy," Angel asked, needing to hear her say the words before he could move on with his life. She nodded, "I love Spike. He's a good man and I love him." Angel studied her for a long moment before gently grazing her cheek with his lips, "then I wish you the best." Tears burned the back of her eyes and Buffy wiped them away with a shaky hand, half-heartedly cursing her emotional instability. A look passed between the former lovers, one of understanding and of closure. Angel smiled warmly at the petite blonde in front of him, finally ready to let her go. Grabbing a paper towel off the counter, Buffy dabbed at her eyes, laughing self-consciously. "I hate crying, makes me all puffy and red," she explained, moving to throw away the wad of tissue.
"You still look gorgeous to me," a voice purred in her ear, causing Buffy to squeal in shock. Spike wrapped his arms around her waist pressing his chest against her back, as he smoothed errant blonde strands away from her neck. Buffy twisted in his embrace, snaking her arms around his neck, "you're incorrigible," she murmured. He tipped his head until their foreheads touched, "only when I'm around you, luv." Buffy smiled before looking around the empty kitchen, "where's Angel? Don't tell me you scared him off. He's probably traumatized from before." Rich laughter filled the kitchen, "I doubt that we caused too much permanent damage, sweetness. But he did mention something about packing to go back to LA." Buffy processed the information, her green eyes dancing mischievously, "just a few more people to take care of and we can have the house to ourselves." Her peroxide blonde lover growled low in his throat, raining kisses across her collarbone and down her shoulder, his hands fusing their bodies together. "Anything you want to do, once we're alone," he teased, not really expecting a response. When Buffy leaned in and whispered her wish into his ear, it took all of Spike's self-control to not throw everyone out at that moment. He gripped the counter with white knuckles, "what the bloody hell are you trying to do, kill me," he hissed in anguish.
Buffy batted her eyelashes coyly, "patience pet," she quipped, throwing his own words back at him before ducking under his arm. She smiled at him, wiggling her fingers in a wave before going upstairs to wake up the rest of the house. Spike slumped to the floor, his back braced against the cabinets. "Women," he moaned, Buffy's words repeating in his head; 'I want you to make love to me,' she had purred, knowing how much the simple phrase would affect him. He banged his head backwards against the cabinet face, "how does she expect me to be patient when she keeps saying things like that?" Dawn stood next to the stove, watching Spike smash his head against the cabinet and moan about Buffy being cruel. Her lips twitched in amusement, "everything ok Spike," she asked, barely able to conceal the laughter in her voice. Spike cringed and inched one eye open to look at Dawn. The teenager's arms were crossed over her chest, a knowing smirk on her face. "Wipe that smug look off your face Nibblet, it's not what you think," Spike grumbled, pulling himself off the floor. "Ah-huh, right," she said, not really agreeing with the black clad vampire, "whatever you say."
Spike clenched his hands into fists, "I swear, you Summers women are going to kill me," he growled in frustration. Dawn locked eyes with him, looking older then her sixteen years and shook her head in pity for the love-struck vampire. "We'll probably try," she deadpanned, grabbing a bowl out of the cabinet next to the sink. Pouring Lucky Charms into the bowl, she frowned at Spike as he stole a marshmallow. He tossed it into the air and caught it between his teeth. Moving towards the refrigerator, he grabbed the coffee pot from the counter and filled it with water. "Don't want to piss off the Chosen One," he explained with a wry smile. Dawn nodded appreciatively, "yeah, Buffy without coffee is not a happy girl."
As if on cue, Buffy breezed into the room, "talking about me again," she asked, sliding onto a stool, propping her elbows up on the tiled island top. Dawn opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a bleary eyed Giles who had just stumbled into the kitchen. "Coffee," he asked hopefully and the teen shook her head. "Sit down, it'll take a minute or two," she said, turning back to the refrigerator to find milk for her cereal. "Or eternity if you never put the coffee maker on," Anya chirped, appearing beside Dawn. Spike looked at her and shrugged. "So I'm taking requests for breakfast, what's everybody want," Willow asked, running her hand through her tangled red tresses. Xander slipped into a kitchen chair, "what'd we do to deserve quality cooking twice in one day," he asked, suppressing another yawn. Raising his head from between his hands, Giles answered, "we saved the world." Buffy looked around the small kitchen at her friends, a warm smile illuminating her face. "Yeah, we did," she whispered, entwining her fingers with Spike's as he stared at her in adoration, "we all did."
Despite the late hour, light filled the entire house, giving the foyer a soft glow. As they walked into the kitchen, Buffy's hand traced idle patterns on Spike's shoulder blades. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, the tips of his fingers teasing the bit of her tanned stomach that peeked out from beneath her tank top. Buffy smiled, noticing that the atmosphere around her had changed; the omnipresent trepidation before the Battle had been lifted, leaving a tranquil peace. She paused in the doorframe of the kitchen, watching her friends flit around the small space as though it was perfectly normal to make breakfast in the middle of the night. Xander and Dawn were sitting at the table laughing and bickering about something, while Giles leaned against the central island just watching. Anya had her head stuck in the refrigerator and she was asking Willow what kind of bread she needed. The Wiccan rolled her eyes in amusement, answering Anya's question without taking her eyes off the sizzling frying pan. Angel had his back to the Scoobies; he was staring blankly out the back window, waiting for the microwave to finish heating his midnight snack.
Spike let go of Buffy's waist, giving her a gentle push into the bustling kitchen. She licked her lips and chirped, "hi guys," her voice perkier then it had been in weeks. The light din of conversation stopped abruptly, all eyes turning towards the petite blonde. Dawn let out a squeal, launching herself into her sister's arms. Blinking back the tears that were threatening to overflow, Buffy squeezed Dawn tightly. She smoothed her sister's chestnut hair, resting her cheek against Dawn's head. The teenager broke the embrace to lightly smack her sister on the shoulder, "that's for scaring me like that," she snapped, but there was no malice in her voice. Buffy ruffled Dawn's smooth hair, "love you too Dawnie," she muttered, her eyes dancing with laughter. Spike just leaned against the doorframe, content to watch Buffy embrace the people she loved and would die to protect. Hugs and tears continued to fill the kitchen, excited voices clamoring for a moment of the Chosen One's attention. Angel remained fixated next to the sink, pretending to be completely absorbed by the garnet liquid in his coffee cup, but really watching his Grand-Childe carefully. He did not understand the relationship between Buffy and Spike, but knew that this was not the time to confront her about it.
Wriggling out of Willow's crushing hug, Buffy turned to Giles. The former Watcher was perched on a stool, cleaning his glasses furiously. She laid a tiny hand on his arm, craning her head to meet his downward gaze until teacher and student were eye to eye. "We won," she said, it was more of a statement then a question, just something to break the awkward silence that existed between them. He nodded, not knowing what to say, there were so many questions that he wanted to ask but this was not the right time for them. "I'm proud of you Buffy," he said, wrapping his right arm around her, mindful of his mending shoulder. She smiled, "thanks Giles." Raising her voice slightly, Buffy asked, "now not to break up the big welcome back party, but I was told that there was breakfast for the conquering heroes." Willow broke in, sliding a plate piled high with food onto the table, "here you go, fabulous French toast that is completely magic-free and only slightly singed. And what I think is bacon and some orange juice that we found." Buffy giggled, digging headfirst into the meal, "thanks guys," she mumbled between mouthfuls.
The next few hours passed quickly and soon pale pinkish purple rays of light began to streak the sky. Piles of dishes sat forgotten in the sink and several glasses littered the countertop. The house was silent, all its occupants asleep after a long night of catching up. In the living room, Buffy was curled up next to Spike on the couch, her feet tucked neatly under her body and her head nestled against his shoulder. Angel was slumped in one of the smaller chair, he had somehow fallen asleep in the tiny desk chair and no one had moved him to another one. Xander was stretched out in the armchair across from the vampire, his legs hanging over the armrest and his feet grazing the coffee table. On the dining room table, Giles lay draped over a pile of books; he had been researching the First, making sure that the beast was indeed gone for good, when he had succumbed to exhaustion. Willow was stretched out next to her laptop, too tired to scour the Web in search of obscure prophecies. Upstairs, Dawn was nestled amongst the sea of stuffed animals and pillows that covered her bed. Anya was in a half-sitting position on the floor with her back braced against the teenager's bed, her head resting on her knees.
Spike felt Buffy shift in his embrace and tipped his head sideways to gaze down at her. "Good morning," she whispered, trying to assure herself that she wasn't dreaming. Spike kissed her nose, "good morning to you too, pet. Although by my internal clock, it's more like mid-afternoon." Moving his lips downward, he brushed feather-light kisses over her lips and chin, eliciting a soft purr from the woman beneath him. "That's because you're weird," she murmured softly, turning her head to capture his lips between hers. Spike chuckled, breaking the kiss to look into Buffy's green eyes. "But you love me," he muttered, nibbling gently on her earlobe. She sighed in contentment, arching her head back to give Spike better access, "you've got me there." Spike growled in mock-frustration, "say it again," he ordered, his voice rough with adoration. Buffy quirked her eyebrow playfully, "you're weird," she teased, her eyes dancing with laughter. Two can play that game, he thought as he nipped at the sensitive spot right above her jugular vein. "Spike, stop," she moaned, feebly protesting the exquisite torture he was putting her through. His eyes twinkled with amusement, "quiet now luv, don't want to wake up your mates." She shot straight up, noticing for the first time that they were not alone; a rich blush colored her cheeks as Spike's lips twitched in silent laughter. "Relax sweetness," he murmured in her ear, "they won't wake up as long as you're quiet." Buffy bit back a sarcastic comment, losing all train of coherent thought as Spike continued to kiss her lips, his icy fingers flitted over her exposed collarbone leaving a thin trail of goose-bumps.
Buffy moaned into Spike's mouth, her eyelids fluttered shut as she lost herself in the desire coursing through her. Breaking the kiss she squirmed in his lap, swinging her left leg over his body so she was straddling his muscular body. "I love you," she purred, leaning in to kiss him again, but he ducked his head away, "say it again." She feigned a pout but complied with his request; when he looked at her, his azure eyes filled with adoration, it was impossible to deny him. "Love you too Buffy," he rasped low in his throat, "love you so much." She smiled in contentment before sliding her hands up his chest, sliding the black cotton shirt over his alabaster six-pack.
Before Spike could divest himself of the t-shirt, a low "ahem," cut through their passion-hazed minds. Buffy froze for a moment before swinging her legs around until she was sitting on Spike's lap, a guilty expression on her face. She kept her eyes trained on the Oriental rug in front of her, embarrassed that she and Spike had been groping each other on the sofa while people were sleeping three feet away from them. Angel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, not really knowing what to say to the blonde couple. The arm encircling Buffy's waist tightened possessively as Spike stared at his Grandsire, his eyes challenging the older vampire to say something. If possible, Buffy's face flushed an even deeper shade of maroon, looking everywhere except at Angel. "I'll be right back," she squeaked, leaping off Spike's leg and practically sprinting towards the bathroom, leaving the two vampires to stare at each other across her living room.
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow and sneered at Angel. "Like the show mate," he snapped, his entire body poised for the seemingly inevitable fight with the one person he could never completely replace in Buffy's mind. To Spike's surprise, the elder vampire crossed the room and sat next to him. "Did you mean what you said," he asked his voice low and melancholy, "do you love her?" Spike swallowed nervously and lacking a sarcastic barb, he answered honestly, "with all my soul." The answer seemed to please Angel, "you're a good man William." His expression changed and he clasped Spike's shoulder firmly, "but I swear if you hurt her, I'll stake you myself." Spike nodded, watching Angel walk in the direction of the kitchen. Once the taller vampire had vanished from view, Spike allowed himself to release the breath of air he had been holding. A slightly goofy grin spread across his face when he thought about Angel waking up to the sight of Buffy wrapped up in the arms of another. "Poor sod," he murmured with genuine sympathy, knowing how much it hurt to not be first in the heart of his beloved; for years he had walked in the shadow of all the men Buffy had loved and knew how lonely it was to not be the one she needed.
Thick shades covered the kitchen windows, shielding the room from the brilliant sunlight outside. Buffy had her back to the doorway, rubbing a terry cloth rag over the dripping ceramic mug in her hands. For a moment Angel just stood cemented to the floor, watching her humming softly to herself as she dried the dishes. He knew that it was Spike who made her glow with contentment; Buffy exuded a blissful happiness that he had not seen in years. Buffy had wiped all the remaining water droplets off the dishes and was stacking them carefully in a cabinet when she noticed the dark-haired vampire. Her cheeks blushed crimson again but she moved closer to him. "Sorry about that," she began, hating the way her voice cracked. Angel shook his head swiftly, resting his hands on Buffy's shoulders and brushing aside anything else she would have said. He looked down at her, noticing for the first time that she was a different person, the naïve teenager he had fallen in love with was just a memory. "Are you happy," Angel asked, needing to hear her say the words before he could move on with his life. She nodded, "I love Spike. He's a good man and I love him." Angel studied her for a long moment before gently grazing her cheek with his lips, "then I wish you the best." Tears burned the back of her eyes and Buffy wiped them away with a shaky hand, half-heartedly cursing her emotional instability. A look passed between the former lovers, one of understanding and of closure. Angel smiled warmly at the petite blonde in front of him, finally ready to let her go. Grabbing a paper towel off the counter, Buffy dabbed at her eyes, laughing self-consciously. "I hate crying, makes me all puffy and red," she explained, moving to throw away the wad of tissue.
"You still look gorgeous to me," a voice purred in her ear, causing Buffy to squeal in shock. Spike wrapped his arms around her waist pressing his chest against her back, as he smoothed errant blonde strands away from her neck. Buffy twisted in his embrace, snaking her arms around his neck, "you're incorrigible," she murmured. He tipped his head until their foreheads touched, "only when I'm around you, luv." Buffy smiled before looking around the empty kitchen, "where's Angel? Don't tell me you scared him off. He's probably traumatized from before." Rich laughter filled the kitchen, "I doubt that we caused too much permanent damage, sweetness. But he did mention something about packing to go back to LA." Buffy processed the information, her green eyes dancing mischievously, "just a few more people to take care of and we can have the house to ourselves." Her peroxide blonde lover growled low in his throat, raining kisses across her collarbone and down her shoulder, his hands fusing their bodies together. "Anything you want to do, once we're alone," he teased, not really expecting a response. When Buffy leaned in and whispered her wish into his ear, it took all of Spike's self-control to not throw everyone out at that moment. He gripped the counter with white knuckles, "what the bloody hell are you trying to do, kill me," he hissed in anguish.
Buffy batted her eyelashes coyly, "patience pet," she quipped, throwing his own words back at him before ducking under his arm. She smiled at him, wiggling her fingers in a wave before going upstairs to wake up the rest of the house. Spike slumped to the floor, his back braced against the cabinets. "Women," he moaned, Buffy's words repeating in his head; 'I want you to make love to me,' she had purred, knowing how much the simple phrase would affect him. He banged his head backwards against the cabinet face, "how does she expect me to be patient when she keeps saying things like that?" Dawn stood next to the stove, watching Spike smash his head against the cabinet and moan about Buffy being cruel. Her lips twitched in amusement, "everything ok Spike," she asked, barely able to conceal the laughter in her voice. Spike cringed and inched one eye open to look at Dawn. The teenager's arms were crossed over her chest, a knowing smirk on her face. "Wipe that smug look off your face Nibblet, it's not what you think," Spike grumbled, pulling himself off the floor. "Ah-huh, right," she said, not really agreeing with the black clad vampire, "whatever you say."
Spike clenched his hands into fists, "I swear, you Summers women are going to kill me," he growled in frustration. Dawn locked eyes with him, looking older then her sixteen years and shook her head in pity for the love-struck vampire. "We'll probably try," she deadpanned, grabbing a bowl out of the cabinet next to the sink. Pouring Lucky Charms into the bowl, she frowned at Spike as he stole a marshmallow. He tossed it into the air and caught it between his teeth. Moving towards the refrigerator, he grabbed the coffee pot from the counter and filled it with water. "Don't want to piss off the Chosen One," he explained with a wry smile. Dawn nodded appreciatively, "yeah, Buffy without coffee is not a happy girl."
As if on cue, Buffy breezed into the room, "talking about me again," she asked, sliding onto a stool, propping her elbows up on the tiled island top. Dawn opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a bleary eyed Giles who had just stumbled into the kitchen. "Coffee," he asked hopefully and the teen shook her head. "Sit down, it'll take a minute or two," she said, turning back to the refrigerator to find milk for her cereal. "Or eternity if you never put the coffee maker on," Anya chirped, appearing beside Dawn. Spike looked at her and shrugged. "So I'm taking requests for breakfast, what's everybody want," Willow asked, running her hand through her tangled red tresses. Xander slipped into a kitchen chair, "what'd we do to deserve quality cooking twice in one day," he asked, suppressing another yawn. Raising his head from between his hands, Giles answered, "we saved the world." Buffy looked around the small kitchen at her friends, a warm smile illuminating her face. "Yeah, we did," she whispered, entwining her fingers with Spike's as he stared at her in adoration, "we all did."