Angel buried his head in the pillows of his large bed, cursing his sensitive hearing. It had only been three days since Buffy joined their odd little household, but it felt like months.

He could hear their raucous conversation drifting from the kitchen, as had been his wakeup call the past two days. Luckily for him, the first full day of her visit had been a Friday, and he had an excuse to spend the whole day away at work, away from Spike. He had half expected them to make use of Buffy's paid hotel room for the weekend, but to his surprise, Buffy's things had been moved into Spike's room by the time he arrived home that evening, and a receipt for 'luggage delivery' was taped to his apartment door. She's just full of surprises.

Ears buried under a pillow, he could still make out most of their conversation from two rooms away.

"Spike!" Buffy was near-shouting at him breathlessly, trying to remove the box of pancake mix from his hands as he dangled it childishly above her head. "I CAN do it, you know!"

"Oh no, pet. Not after yesterday. They should call you the pancake slayer after yesterday." Spike made a face, disappointed by his own lame comment.

"Meanie." Buffy pouted dramatically, sticking out her bottom lip.

"Oh, that lip!" he grinned, both of them remembering his reference. "Gonna get it!" He lunged at Buffy, who shrieked in mock terror before jumping into his reaching arms and allowing him to finish what he'd started.

"Have you ever even made pancakes before?" she asked as they broke apart.

"Can't be that hard," he picked the box up off the tile floor, dusting it jokingly. Glancing at the box, he absentmindedly pulled an egg from the carton in the fridge, attempting to crack it on the edge of the bowl Buffy had set out for herself. Striking the bowl with excessive force, the egg exploded spectacularly, showering Buffy.

Demanding the box back from Spike, who was covering his mouth to smother his laughter, she shook her head at him in an exaggerated 'I told you so,' holding up her finger. "Give me ten minutes, I'm taking a shower, and then I will go buy us some already cooked breakfast." Glancing at her soiled dressing robe, and ignoring Spike's bemused smile, she muttered to herself. "Not the first piece of clothing he's ruined." Nor the last.

Looking around him at the mess he'd made, Spike saw the tiny splash of egg yolk that had landed on his forearm, and moved to wash it off in the sink. Reaching for the handle, he smirked to himself, and turned around, walking down the hallway. I have a much better idea.

Hearing the shower start, and the SECOND opening and closing of the bathroom door, Angel was reaching his wits end. Pulling himself out of bed, he cursed the sun; despite the cold, it was already far too light out for him him take a much-needed walk, but at least he had his 'demon-friendly' car. It may be Sunday, but work was sounding better by the minute. Anything had to be better than the frustration of that weekend at home.

He and Buffy had finally gotten to have that heart-to-heart the night before, taking a long walk through the city. She told him about her 'fling' with Spike after her return to life, about all the events that had led up to Spike's journey for his soul, and their slow recovery since. Luckily for Spike, the two were quite a distance from the house by the time she had arrived at the story of Spike's turning point, his last awful regression into his evil ways. It took quite a bit of convincing on Buffy's part to talk him out of acting on his various and intricate mumbled threats to make Spike really pay, but she was patient with him, more so than he'd ever remembered her being. As she'd wryly pointed out, Angel's own actions towards her when he'd lost his soul did not exactly leave him standing upon the moral high ground.

Angel had to wonder to himself why his own desire to be with Buffy hadn't resulted in a different set of events when he'd found himself without a soul in Sunnydale. The more she told him about Spike's few selfless actions, the more his guilt grew over his artful abuses of her and her friends at that time. It helped him to blame the changes Spike underwent with Buffy's influence solely on the chip, but Angel knew better. Even forced to stop physically harming humans he would have found a million different ways to lash out at Buffy, he would never have helped her.

Angel was disgusted with himself to admit that despite their history, Spike's reappearance set off a feeling in him akin to grief. A selfish part of him had been glad to have Spike out of the way. Buffy's more-than-friendly greeting when he'd arrived to assist her in Sunnydale had given him hope that she may be open to a relationship with him, even if it was distantly in the future. He'd had every intention of taking his time, letting her have her space, but part of him knew once he saw Spike that his time had already run out. Any chance he had with Buffy would be minimal once she found out; the distance she kept from him the aftermath of Spike's death made that much fairly clear. Luckily for him, Spike had not been ready to tell her either. Thank God for that, but it's too late now.

Across town, Buffy and Spike were just ending their lengthy shower as Angel was pulling into the parking garage at Wolfram and Hart.

Pulling him in for one last kiss, hands roaming his damp skin, Buffy uttered a small moan of satisfaction. Spike broke the spell gently, bending to pick up her robe, which was currently crumpled in a damp heap on the floor.

"Want me to toss this in the wash?"

Buffy stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment at the thought of Spike doing laundry. Sensing the teasing that was coming, Spike scowled and moved to throw it back on the floor, but Buffy caught his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, hiding her smile. "I just don't always picture you like this, so domestic. Sometimes I still see 'William the Bloody' when I look at you."

"Well, I've been picking up a little around the house for Captain Forehead," he admitted. "Since I'm here free and all. I don't do well feeling useless, even to him."

"How sweet of you." Buffy was again struggling to hide her smile, and Spike scowled grumpily back at her, but seemed to recover quickly, twisting the robe between his fingers and whipping her thighs with it lightly, to Buffy's obvious pleasure.

"I'm anything but sweet, pet." he kissed her gently, drawing himself up to his full height as he did. No longer able to reach his lips, Buffy watched him as he wrapped a towel around his waist, and carried the robe out of the room with him. Glancing around, she realized he had taken the only towel.

Naked and shivering, she had just began to wonder if she could risk the short trip down the hall to their room using only the washcloth for cover, when Spike reappeared, holding another towel. Without speaking, he wrapped it around her tightly, protectively, and she pulled him into a quick hug.

"Now that was sweet."

He ran his fingers over her wet curls. "Don't tell a soul," he whispered.

It took the pair of them nearly an hour to realize Angel was no longer home, and nearly another hour to bother looking for his note: a quickly scrawled 'went to work, be back later' taped to the door. They spent a lazy afternoon of eating, napping, and savoring the quiet time they both knew couldn't last, not in lives like theirs.

Spike's hopeful "Patrol tonight?" was met with enthusiasm, as Buffy was getting as restless as he was. The chore that patrols had been back in Cleveland would again be a shared adventure, and they were each hardly able to hide their excitement. Buffy had nearly forgotten the reason she had come to Los Angeles in the first place: a promise to help Angel with his local vampire problem.

The sun seemed to take twice as long to set that day. The first touch of pink in the sky saw Buffy sitting up on her bed, polishing the beautiful slayer's Scythe she never went far without these days. Always looking for a project, Xander had helped her customize the interior of a beaten-looking old guitar case as a perfectly disguised travel sheath, and Willow had protected it magically from being opened by anyone other than Buffy herself. As long as nobody asked her to 'play', she was home free.

She was so engrossed in her ritualistic cleaning that she didn't notice Spike appear at the doorway, watching her. Her back was to the window, the light turning her skin and fair hair into shades of rich, faceted gold. The reflections from the Scythe made her eyes glimmer, almost dangerously. As the sun sank further, the slight shadows emphasized her tight cheekbones. Spike realized for the first time how tired and thin she looked, with a touch of worry. Still, she was no less beautiful.

Finally, she noticed her admirer. "Hey, you." She seemed to be lost in thought.

Spike took his place on the bed beside her, kissing her forehead gently. "Angel's home."

"Are you playing nice?"

"Mildly."

Noticing his tone, Buffy smirked. "The sun's almost down, don't kill each other for ten more minutes, and then we can be on our way."

"Date night?" Angel looked in from the doorway, attempting to sound lighthearted, but the bile seeped into his voice. He'd tried to distance himself from them by leaving, but his thoughts had never left Buffy.

"Patrolling." Spike stood on instinct, attempting to level with him.

"I thought I should at least do what I came here to do." Buffy was more gentle, seeing Angel was at least making an effort to come to terms with the circumstances. "It's not a date, you're welcome to join us."

"I better not." said Angel. Spike had tensed immediately, not attempting in any way to hide his displeasure at the invitation.

"No, really." Buffy gripped Spike's arm with painful force, daring him to argue.

"Buffy, it's okay." he smiled, straining a little. "But you should know, if you want to try to take a look at the crew we've been after, we think they're holding an old apartment building by the cemetery a few blocks North. None of us have made a move on the new spot yet, I wouldn't suggest doing so without backup, just in case."

Buffy looked like she might argue, and Angel tossed a military-issue pager to Spike, who nodded. "I'll let you know if we need you."

As he watched them go, Buffy could see the conflicting emotions on Angel's face. This was the second time he'd seen her since Sunnydale, and again, she was leaving him on the sidelines, again partially for Spike's benefit.

"I wish you didn't have to make him feel so unwelcome." she said, as they moved past the range of even Angel's hearing.

"I can't say I'm exactly sorry, pet."

She crossed her arms, and he swiftly attempted to defend his position.

"Buffy, he's insufferable at the best of times. I've been closer to him than I've ever wanted to be over the past six months, and now I've only just gotten you back. Forgive me if I want you to myself for a little while." He glanced around at their surroundings, they still had several blocks to go to reach the suspected lair. For a few minutes, they walked along in silence.

Buffy was the first to break it, speaking slowly as if deep in thought. "Do you remember our patrols together, training the girls?"

"I remember all of our patrols." He smiled to himself, suspecting where her mind had wandered. "Yes, I wound up thinking about that one in particular just a few nights back. Right before you showed up and gave me an even better memory."

She nudged him, but continued. "When I thought I'd hurt you, you took my hand… that was when I realized how much I still needed you, maybe even loved you."

Spike's chest tightened. He'd never heard her speaking like this, so open. Buffy was staring up at him, increasing her walking speed out of nerves. Unable to think of anything worth saying, he kept her gaze, then took her hand and squeezed. She pulled him against her, and they walked along, shoulder to shoulder, looking almost like any other couple out for a nighttime walk.

They had gotten so comfortable in the moment, they almost didn't notice the small group ducking around the streetcorner just ahead. Spike caught it first, and instantly pulled Buffy behind him against the nearest wall to reduce their profile from the streetlamp. The group as a whole had clearly been drinking. One male in particular stumbled forward with a swagger, the streetlamp showing his face clearly for what he was; they had found their vampire crew.

Buffy's hands slipped down, finding the handle for her scythe, adjusting her grip for a battle-ready hold. Before Spike could stop her, she slipped ahead of him, sticking to the shadows cast by the tall building, moving swiftly towards the group. Cursing, he followed, slipping a freshly sharpened stake from his coat, and moving a second into a clip in his sleeve. Following this crazy bint will be the death of me... again.

The group of vampires were bragging loudly, talking over each other, something about 'flimsy little windows' being 'a poor security system'. They were carrying a few bottles of liquor each. Those idiots must have just robbed a liquor store. Buffy glanced at Spike, signalling to him that she was going to make her move. There were five in total, all of them inebriated. The ragtag bunch would make an easy mark for a slayer even if they hadn't been drinking. Buffy saw no sign of any 'demon guards', as Angel had warned her against. They must keep them in the lair itself. Unless Angel was exaggerating... but that's not like him.

Confident in her advantage, she jumped forward, catching them off guard as she emerged from the shadows. She took her run at the largest of the group, beheading him with one swing. As the dust cleared, two tall female vamps, fueled by shock and rage, jumped at Buffy in unison. With a roundhouse kick, she slammed the closer one into the wall, out of her way, and the second swing of her scythe spelled death for the slower of the two. Wary and bruised, the other female drew back, regrouping with the two remaining males. As Spike jumped into position beside Buffy, the dark-haired male that she'd seen in the streetlamp stepped forward, slipping out of game-face, hands raised into the air in a universal image of surrender.

"Well done." His voice was cold, his human features chiseled and handsome. If he wasn't obviously the leader, I would think they turned him for his looks. "You're no weakling, but unless you'd like me calling in some real threats, STAND DOWN."

Buffy steeled herself. "I can't imagine why you think I'll be listening to you." She watched closely, keeping herself ready. His right hand had slipped into his pocket. Drawing his hand out slowly, he wiggled a beautiful blue crystal in front of her. She forced out a scoff. Maybe I can provoke him into a mistake?

"I'm not easily led into mistakes, sweetheart." As her eyes widened in shock, he stroked the crystal lovingly. "As you can probably guess now, you won't be surprising me." He waved a hand dismissively at the two remaining vampires, who retreated quickly, running towards their lair.

Confused, Spike glanced between the two of them, unsure how to protect her. Watching him, the dark-haired vampire laughed cruelly.

"Oh, that's just cute. Slayer's got herself a little pet monster." Spike stiffened, and the other vampire examined him, surprise flitting across his face.

"Ah, I see. You aren't quite a monster…" he drawled, still stroking the crystal. "But you'll never be human, I hope you understand that."

"He's more human than you'll ever understand." Buffy pointed the scythe at him threateningly, trying to keep her mind blank. Her efforts seemed to worsen her predicament, as thoughts of Spike flashed quickly through her mind: the night he came to find her in Sunnydale, his sacrifice, their… physical relationship.

Smirking evilly, the vampire stared as if listening intently, and the heat grew in Buffy's cheeks. Tired of the game, Spike lunged at the other vamp. His opponent slipped the crystal around his neck, ducking back almost quickly enough to dodge Spike, who caught him by his collar in a grapple, recreating the move that had been used on him a few nights before. Forcing him onto his knees, Spike reached for the crystal, intent on ripping it from his neck. Whatever crossed his mind in that moment must have been of interest, because the other vamp suddenly flung Spike off of him with an elated cackle.

"Oh, thank you!" his tone was mocking, and he clapped his hands together in glee. Spike shook off the hit with a snarl, lunging at the demon with bloodlust he hadn't felt in months.

Whatever information Spike's thoughts had provided would remain a mystery, as Buffy reached the vampire first. The crystal clattered to the ground, no longer having a neck to swing from. As Buffy reached for it, the blue color seeped out, and she found herself holding a dirty, innocuous piece of quartz.