"That's the last one," Spike proclaimed as he dropped a black duffel bag on the hardwood floor. From her perch on the sofa, Buffy stared at Spike over the rim of her steaming coffee cup. "Do you have enough shit," she asked, her face expressionless. Spike opened his mouth, ready to protest that his duffel bag, a computer bag and a suitcase did not count as a lot of stuff, when compared with the clutter of a certain someone's apartment. Laughing, Buffy put her coffee back on the table so she could help Spike move the bags out of her entranceway. "I'm just teasing." Spike let out a growl, grabbing Buffy's wrist and pulling her against his chest. "You're bloody hilarious," he said between clenched teeth, trying his best to sound annoyed. Buffy turned in his arms, "I know," she chirped, disentangling herself from his embrace.

"Do you want all this in the bedroom," she asked, picking up his duffel bag and carrying it down the hall. "I don't know," Spike groaned in exasperation, feeling completely overwhelmed, "this is your apartment." Buffy's head re-appeared from around the corner, "well, I put the suitcase there when you went down to get this. So I guess we can just leave it all on the floor. And then after this weekend, we can move some of it into the closet in the guest bedroom." Spike shrugged, "whatever works best, pet." He stole a sip of Buffy's coffee, "you sure that this is alright? Don't want you to feel like I'm rushing you into anything."

It was a combination of slayer speed and emotion that got Buffy from the bedroom to the living room in the metaphorical blink of an eye. Before Spike could swallow his coffee, she was standing in front of him, her hands resting on her hips, an indignant look on her face. "Okay, Spike, we need to get a couple things straight," she snapped. "One, this is most definitely alright. Two, this was my idea, remember? It's stupid for you to pay for a hotel room when you're always here. And I know you don't mind, that you're like insanely rich and don't care about things like that, but it bugs me. So can we chill with the 'rushing into things'? And besides, I don't remember us setting a timetable up.you know, meet one day, go for coffee two days later, six hours later share a kiss.that's not our thing." Spike looked down at the carpet, knowing that Buffy was right but not wanting to admit that to her. She trailed off, "so can we just go with this? No matter how wiggy it is?" He nodded, "ignoring all aspects of wiggyness."

Spike stopped abruptly, shaking his head, "bloody hell woman! I'm starting to talk like you!" Buffy just giggled, not wanting to tell Spike that he had been adopting her slang for weeks. As long as he didn't comment on her stealing phrases like "bloody hell," and "shagging," she wasn't going to talk about his Buffy-speak. "No biggie," she said, clearly bored with the conversation.

"So what time is the Nibblet getting in," Spike asked, falling onto the sofa, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Buffy took her mug away from his scuffed boots, shooting them a murderous look. "Around seven," she said, drawing out the word, trying to remember if that was what time Dawn arrived at the airport or if that was what time they needed to pick her up. Fairly certain that her flight was landing at seven, Buffy repeated herself. Spike nodded, "got a few hours to spare, luv." He cocked his scarred eyebrow in Buffy's direction, a devilish gleam in his eyes. Buffy backed away from the couch, "Spike, I have to get changed, I don't have time to..I have a cup of coffee here..don't make me spill it..well..I guess.yeah.we have time..but not too lo-."

Standing in the crowded airport, Buffy glanced at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time. She sighed in frustration, the minute hand had barely moved since the last time she checked. "What time is it," Spike asked, leaning casually against a pillar, wishing that he had a cigarette. "7:12," Buffy replied, gnawing nervously on her nail, "her flight was supposed to be here at seven, where is she?" He chuckled softly, "don't worry about it, pet, she'll be here." Buffy exhaled noisily, "I know, it's just I haven't seen Dawn in like ever. It's been like three months and I'm excited." Rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, Buffy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, too impatient to stand still. "She'll be here for a week, pet, you'll have lots of time to see her," Spike said. Sighing in exasperation, Buffy looked at him with a how-dense-can-you-possibly-be stare. "Six days, not counting today, and only five nights" she corrected. "Her flight back to Colorado is on the ninth, and she said her classes start on the eleventh."

Shrugging his shoulders, Spike stepped away from the pillar as the arrival of Dawn's flight was broadcasted through the terminal. He already knew her flight schedule, Dawn had e-mailed him after talking to Buffy. Her white lie about wanting to spend time with her sister may have fooled Buffy but Spike knew better. He knew that Dawn had an ulterior motive for flying across the country; she wanted to play matchmaker between Buffy and Spike, saying something in her e-mail about "getting maximum sparkage". Not that he was really complaining about Dawn coming to the City, without her telling him to stop whining about everything he had done wrong, Spike would still be sitting alone in Australia.

As the loudspeaker rattled off the gate numbers for any connecting flights, Buffy cast a sideways look at Spike. She didn't know how to tell him that Dawn wasn't coming to New York to relax before the start of the semester, nor was she coming to spend time with her sister out of the goodness of her heart. The truth was, Dawn knew Spike was in New York; the day after Christmas, Buffy had sent her a long e-mail, spilling out almost every detail of their new relationship. Always the matchmaker, Dawn had called Buffy that same afternoon to tell her that she had booked a flight to New York. "I'm not just going to leave the two of you alone," Dawn had protested, "my classes don't start until the middle of the month, so I'm coming out for a couple of days. We'll get some major sparkage between you guys. I mean, hello, it's been like forever since you two have been in the same country, much less the same state. There's no way I'm going to let you take matters into your own hands again, that's what got you two into such a terrific mess last time." Even though Buffy had tried to convince Dawn that there was plenty of "sparkage" between her and Spike, the younger Summers sister wouldn't listen. "And don't even try to talk me out of it, because I'm coming and that's final," Dawn warned before she hung up the phone, displaying a fierce determination that was rivaled only by her sister's stubbornness.

The crowd of people swelling around the formerly empty gate tore Buffy from her thoughts. She stood up straighter, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of her cranberry-colored peacoat and brushing nonexistent lint from her jeans. A willowy brunette appeared at the head of the hallway leading off the plane, her shoulder-length hair falling in loose wisps around her face. Brown eyes lit up and she darted through the crowd of people, clutching her carry-on bag and sweater tightly in one hand. "Buffy," she squealed, dropping her bag and flinging her arms around her petite sister. "Dawnie," Buffy cried with equal excitement, tears stinging the back of her green eyes, as she hugged her sister tightly.

Spike just stared at the sisters in awe; he hadn't seen Dawn in almost four years and it was amazing how different she looked, pictures didn't do her justice. But when her eyes locked onto his and her arms went into a death grip around his neck, Spike knew that she was still his Nibblet. Her brown eyes were filled with tears, a few stray droplets making their way down her lightly tanned cheek. "It's so great to see you," she said, her words muffled against Spike's shoulder. He tightened his hug, "missed you li'l bit."

When they finally broke apart, tears were streaming freely down her face and even Spike's eyes looked glassy. Buffy wiped the streaks of mascara off her face, giggling at the black smudges pooled in the corners of Dawn's chocolate eyes. Dawn stuck her tongue out at Buffy before she swiped at the worst of the makeup. Wrapping an arm around her sister's waist, Buffy asked, "want to get your luggage and get out of here?" Dawn nodded, looping one arm around Buffy's arm and the other around Spike's. "Let's go." If he was surprised by Dawn's actions, Spike didn't show it, his face an impassive mask as the trio made their way through the organized chaos of the airport.

Almost an hour later, Spike kicked the apartment door closed with his foot, dropping a flowered suitcase on the hardwood floor with a loud thud. "Let's just leave Spike with the luggage," he grumbled, dragging a matching tote bag across the entranceway, "he doesn't mind picking up bags that weigh a few tons. No, it's no bloody trouble at all. I'll just drag all this through the airport like a pack mule, load it all into the taxi. You two just catch up, forget I'm even here. Never mind that the bloody sidewalk is covered with ice and the damn curb's buried under a snowdrift that could hide a body. No, don't offer to help, just let the vampire fall and break his neck. He doesn't mind."

Identical expressions of innocence met his angry gaze, endless pools of green and brown staring back at him from the sofa. "Are you okay," Buffy asked as Dawn got off the couch to pick up her carryon bag. "We're sorry," the brunette said apologetically and Buffy let out a short laugh. "He just wants sympathy," she said, "the big baby." Spike growled, dropping the tote bag on the floor. Stalking over to the sofa, he bent down until his nose was a hairbreadth away from Buffy's. She stared back at him, a defiant look in her eyes, daring him to say something. Instead of the Big Bad master vampire sarcastic barb she had expected, Spike captured her lips in a passionate kiss, completely oblivious to Dawn's presence.

They kissed for several moments until Buffy remembered that her little sister, her impressionable baby sister, was standing in the same room. "Spike, stop," she said breathlessly, her palms spayed against his chest, putting space between their bodies, "Dawn's standing right here." At the mention of her name, Dawn giggled, "hello? Not a little girl anymore." Spike raised an eyebrow, silently challenging her to continue that particular train of thought. Realizing that this was nowhere near the right time to assert her independence and maturity, Dawn snapped her mouth shut. Nodding in approval, Spike sat down beside Buffy on the sofa, his fingers intertwined with hers. Dawn's eyes lit up at the sight of them together, "you guys are too cute," she said softly, before turning her attention back to the bags sitting on the floor. "I'll be right back, gotta go put these in the guestroom. Can I trust you two to keep your hands off each other for three minutes?" Buffy giggled and she replied, "yes Mommy," in a singsong voice. Dropping his head over the back of the couch, Spike groaned. "Women," he lamented, causing Buffy and Dawn to break out into a fit of giggles. "Men," they replied in unison and Spike groaned again.