Summary: Snippets of another life where events, starting in season 6 and continuing post-series, went just a bit different. Rating changed due to this chapter.

M is for Memories

"I said goodbye again

sucking up all

that was left of her

into the little

that was left of me.

I said,

don't look for me again.

Fuck it.

We are all lost.

Goodbye. Goodbye."

-Charles Bukowski

"Hello?" If his heart beat, it would have stuttered at the sound of her voice. She sounded tired, and he wondered if his call had woken her. His mouth opened. And closed again. No sound came out.

Her voice was more exasperated when she spoke again. "Hello? Anyone there? Or do you just enjoy calling in the middle of the goddamn night and keeping people from their much-needed beauty sleep?"

His lips twisted up into a fond smile, and he finally forced the sound out. "Buffy." It wasn't much, he wanted to say so much more, but that's all that would come out. Silence stretched out over the phone line, and he began to doubt the wisdom of going through all the effort of calling her.

"Spike?" He opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But she spoke again before he could. "Is this some kind of fucking joke?"

He winced at the frail quality her tone had taken on. "No, luv. 'S me." He shifted in place and reached up to rub at the back of his neck. "Took me a bit to track down a number."

He was afraid she wouldn't answer, almost worried she'd hung up, and he waited for the inevitable dial tone to ring across the line. "How?"

She sounded alert now. He could hear rustling as she moved, and he closed his eyes, picturing her throwing off the sheets and tiptoeing out of bed, the floorboards squeaking beneath her slight weight.

"Wish I had an answer for that, pet." And he did. He wished he had an answer for a lot of things. Like, for example, how to become a real boy again.

"When?" He kind of wished she were capable of speaking more than one-word sentences, but then, he supposed he'd likely thrown her for a bit of a loop.

"Couple o' weeks ago," he told her, wincing at the sharp intake of breath he heard. "But it's not so simple, pet."

He could hear more rustling. "Where are you?" She had always awed him, almost from the first. Just as soon as he'd begun to form, even the slightest inkling of how special she truly was.

He opened his mouth, intending to answer. To tell her and see if she would come. To see if she'd bring backup to help him out with his little ghostly problem. But just as the first sound came out, his disappeared, a figment that one could convince themselves had never even been there.

"Spike?" Her voice rang out through the empty room, her cadence more panicked and desperate the longer she went without an answer.

~BTVS~

She wasn't sure which emotion was stronger. Anger? She burned with all the rage of the seven thrashing seas. Maybe confusion? Her mind was a muddled mess as she trudged through their brief, life-altering conversation. Sorrow? The pain of endless memories crashed over her, refusing to be forgotten. Refusing to be forgiven.

No. She was the Slayer. Still, even after the small horde of girls climbing out of the woodwork to claim their birthright. She was the Slayer. So, naturally, it was a determination that reigned supreme. She could feel it, first in her toes, as they tapped across the cold wood floor toward her closet. In her heels, she rocked back on them, swinging the door open and staring at her options.

Up through her calves, already buzzing with coiled power as she forced herself to remain still. To be calm. Up through her thighs and into her core. It pooled in her belly, the determination, setting her alight with fire, up into her chest where her heart tattooed against it. Displaying more life than it had since the fall of Sunnydale.

She felt it in her arms, her fingertips tingling with it as she pulled out the hangers at random. Finally, in her face, her lips set in a resolute line. In her mind, her brain whirring with possibility and questions and the only way she knew to get answers. Through action.

She barely remembered throwing on her clothes, her boot-clad feet echoing across the hardwood as she quickly left her bedroom and walked across the hall to Willow's.

The witch answered the door mid-bang with a tired frown. "Buffy?" Her expression switched to immediate concern. "Are you okay?"

Buffy shook her head. "I need you to do a locator spell."

The door opened wider, and Buffy stepped through.

~BTVS~

Her cheeks actually hurt, her smile pulling so wide that muscles she hadn't used since her resurrection were suddenly activated. The sound that tumbled from her lips was almost foreign, and her heart pounded a little harder at the fond smile that stretched across his lips as he studied her.

"You should do that more often, Slayer." Her laughter slowly subsided.

"What? Get completely wasted?"

His grin grew as he slowly shook his head. "No, luv. Laugh." He winked at her. "But getting right pissed is good too, innit?"

She snapped out of her thoughts as the plane started its descent. Willow had looked at her with pity when she'd told her what she needed the spell for but had reluctantly cast it anyway. Looking as shocked as the Slayer had been the moment his voice had floated over the phone line when the spell had been successful.

The two women had frowned over the map, and Buffy had welcomed the return of anger as she excused herself and picked the phone back up. There was a certain dark-haired vampire that had some explaining to do.

Her stomach had sunk with every word Angel spoke as he haltingly explained Spike's miraculous half-resurrection and the fragile hold he'd had on their plane since then. She glanced over at Willow, nose deep in a book, and Dawn bouncing anxiously in her seat. Her little sister displayed all the pent-up energy the Slayer felt but kept bottled up as she sat still, her face a mask of calm that the blue-eyed vampire would see through in a heartbeat.

"Just let. Me. Go." She faltered at the desperation in his too-blue gaze. At his seething, resolute tone. She shook her head slowly. Her heart breaking at the thought of losing him. Of what he was asking of her.

"I can't."

"Then leave so that I can."

She shook her head again, a spark of anger taking up residence next to her sorrow. "We'll fix this, Spike."

He pulled at the chains clasped around his wrists. She followed the links to where they were anchored into the wall, ensuring it would hold. "Don't be daft, Slayer. I get out of this and hurt you? Or the bit? Or anyone of those very snackable little girls up top? I couldn't live with that, Buffy. Just say goodbye and let me go."

She ignored the tears burning at the back of her eyes. "We'll fix this."

She ignored his roar and walked away, her heels clicking against the stairs. Ignored the tearing of her heartstrings as she resolutely left him behind. So that she could save him.

The plane landed after an eternity. The three women wound through the airport after retrieving their bags. The sun had set an hour earlier, and Buffy wasn't surprised to see Angel waiting for them. She buried the anger that lit her up at the remembered secrets he'd kept and greeted him with an empty smile and a brief hug. There would be time enough for anger later.

"Fred has been working on making him corporeal again," Angel told them as he raced through the bustling Los Angeles streets.

"And has she had much luck?" Willow stole the question Buffy was too afraid to ask.

Angel hesitated, and her anxiety threatened to bubble over. "She's working on some sort of...contraption. I don't understand the science behind it, but she thinks it'll work. Fred." He shook his head with a small smile. "She's pretty smart about this kind of stuff."

"But he has some physical hold on reality," Buffy said. "He was able to call me." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "And something tells me he didn't have help."

Angel had the courtesy to look chagrined. "He can touch things if he concentrates hard enough." He shook his head. "Really hard. It's kinda funny, actually. You should have seen how long it took him to try and push a cup off my desk." His laughter trailed off when he noticed that she didn't agree. He cleared his throat and grew serious. "Uh, so anyway. He can touch things. Sometimes. Mostly he just goes through them."

"Where does he go when he disappears?" Willow asked. Buffy could practically feel her excitement bubbling at the thought of solving the puzzle.

Angel faltered, glancing sideways at the Slayer. She turned her head and met his eyes. "Where does he go?"

He was helpless against her question. "He said he's slipping into Hell."

The words were loud in the silent car, hanging there for eons as they drove through the crowded streets. A sniffle in the back caught her attention, and she looked in the rearview mirror to see Dawn wiping a tear away. "He'll be fine, Dawnie."

She wished she believed her own words.

~BTVS~

She looked out over the crater. Concrete pavers, cracked and broken, covering the town. Trapping with it the turok-han and the memory of the people they'd loved. Trapping Spike.

She shook the thought away as a tear streamed down her cheek. No, not trapping Spike. He wasn't trappable. He was dust. Ash at the very bottom of the town he'd destroyed. Destroy the town to save the world.

Save the girls.

That's what it had really been. Saving Buffy from another death. Saving Dawn from a first. Saving the world was just a bonus.

God, she loved him.

"In how long?" she demanded, feeling slightly guilty as Fred winced at her sharp tone and busied her hands with the giant thing she was working on. The thing that was supposed to give Spike his body back.

"It's been... a while," the cute, mousy girl told her softly. "I think he's here…I think we just can't see him anymore."

Angel frowned. "He said that time just stops for him. He disappears from one place, pops up in another, and doesn't realize he's been gone for hours."

Fred's large eyes were sad when she looked at her boss. Sadder when she looked at Buffy. "I-I think the closer he gets to Hell, the looser his grip on reality becomes. He wrote on the glass of my shower earlier."

"He was watching you shower?!" Angel demanded. Buffy would admit to not liking that twist in events, either.

Fred rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. "He managed to write one word," she continued, ignoring the angry vampire. Her eyes locked with Buffy's. "Reaper."

She was warm in his cool embrace. Moments like this, where she allowed her defenses to lower slightly, were her favorite. They were also the most dangerous. Like him. So, with a sigh, she moved out of his arms and backed up to the door.

"Buffy." He could see it in her eyes, on her face. She knew it. She was an open book to him. She thought she always had been. "Don't do this, luv."

"You've been great, Spike. Really. I...I appreciate everything you've done for me over the last few months. You've made me feel again."

His eyes were confused, and her heart twisted when she looked into them. So she stopped. "Then why?"

She hesitated, leaning against the frame, one hand wrapped around the stone door, seconds away from escape. Riley's shocked eyes floated through her memory. Disgust at finding them wrapped around each other. At hearing her happy giggle as Spike whispered naughty little secrets in her ear.

He'd accused her of filling the hole in her life with death. Of turning to something easy so she wouldn't have to face what was hard. And, even though Spike was probably the only good thing she had going for her lately, she realized he hadn't been wrong. And that Giles had been right. She needed to learn to stand on her own two feet.

Needed to learn how to do that so that if she and Spike gave this a go, it would be real. Real and healthy. Not a secret. Not something she could punch when she was angry or kiss when she didn't want to talk. Spike had been good to her. But, aside from fleeting moments where she lowered her guard, she had been horrible to him.

She shifted her gaze away from his bruised cheekbones and black eye. The split lip and scratch marks. Away from the evidence of how much of a monster she'd become. "Because you deserve better than I can give you right now."

Her words were soft and broken, and she held up a hand when he moved to argue. "And I need to learn how to function like a normal person again." She met his eyes then. "Not someone who beats the shit out of you whenever I get angry. I can't live like that, Spike. And you shouldn't put up with it."

The surprise in his eyes shattered what remained of her tattered heart. She knew enough about his history with Drusilla to know that 'putting up with it' is what he'd been trained to do. Maybe he needed to learn to stand on his own two feet again too.

"Goodbye, William."

If the world could have fallen out from under her feet, it probably would have. She moved in a fog, keeping busy but not really realizing what she was doing as they worked to try and save him.

Willow was at her best, working side by side with Fred to get the machine that would make him solid again up and running. Angel's team helped gather the components and do the research. Buffy haunted the halls alongside Angel, looking for Matthias Pavayne, the man who was trying to send her vampire to Hell in his place.

When they all found themselves back in the lab just as Fred and Willow activated the machine, Buffy was a bundle of nerves. She looked around the room and wondered if Spike was there now. Fred was convinced he was as she yelled at him to step into the circle she'd drawn.

Every muscle in her body coiled as a horrible gargled sound erupted from Fred, and she tried to rush forward, only to be sent flying back along with everyone else. She tried to fight against it, to get to the girl working so hard to save the man she loved, but she couldn't move. Not fast enough, anyway.

And then it choking. And a light lit up the room. Angel and his gang ran forward to swarm around Fred, but Buffy was frozen, looking at the circle.

And then she was attacking. Letting loose all her built-up fury on the asshole that had taken Spike's spot. Her first froze, mid-swing when his voice rang out over the din.

"Don't kill him!"

Her head swung over, eyes wide, and she saw him for the first time since he'd been burning up in Sunnydale. Angel took over the attack, promising not to kill Pavayne but vowing to hurt him a little.

Spike's bright blue eyes were locked with hers, and a million emotions passed between them before Fred's small voice broke the silence. "That was our only chance. There was just the…just the one."

With effort, Spike tore his gaze away from Buffy and smiled at the Texan. "That's okay, luv. I'd make the trade again any day."

And then he disappeared.

~BTVS~

"That's not true." It really wasn't, but she could tell he didn't believe her. "You didn't need to do this, Spike." She had thought that he'd finally left her like all the others. And, even though she'd wanted to, she hadn't been able to bring herself to blame him.

"No," he said. "I did."

"Why?" He looked as lost as she felt, but then, a hundred-plus years of horror and bloodshed forced upon the soul of a good man was bound to throw you for a loop. He snorted out a laugh that was just this side of hysterical.

"Because, Slayer. You said that I deserved better than you." He shook his head, and she saw a flash of the lucidity that she'd been missing. "And that has never and will never be true."

"So you, what? Left for months to fight for a soul to...prove me wrong?" she asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Seemed the thing to do at the time."

She shook her head, sorrow engulfing her as she clasped his shaky hand in hers. "I think you only proved me right."

She pulled him to her, allowing him to bury his head in her chest, and wondered what the hell they were going to do now.

She didn't know when or how she'd managed to fall asleep. Angel had shown her, Dawn, and Willow to the guest rooms, and she'd paced the floor anxiously, talking out loud. Hoping Spike could hear her. Hoping he couldn't.

Hoping he'd appear.

She woke with a start when the ghost of a touch feathered over her cheek. He backed up when she sat up. "Spike."

"Hello, luv." He sounded miles away.

Her eyes took him in, memorizing every inch of him. "God, you're really here."

He snorted, that smirk she'd loved to pretend to hate gracing his features. It was a tad hysterical, hearkening back to another time. "Not really," he corrected. "Not quite." His head tilted as his eyes roamed her as hungrily as hers roamed him. "You really came."

She was offended. And hurt. "Of course I did."

"I didn't tell you where to go," he reminded her. "Didn't get the chance."

She let go of her offense and smiled. "Weren't you the one who always called me resourceful?"

He smiled, and her heart quickened. And then it faltered, and her heart did too. "I shouldn't have called. You shouldn't have come."

"The hell you shouldn't have. The hell I shouldn't have." The anger was back.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she tried not to think about how the mattress didn't give even a little under his weightless form. Her fingers twitched from wanting to reach out to him. "Getting rid of Pavayne bought me a little time, luv." He reached out, running his fingers along her cheek. She closed her eyes and pretended she could feel them. "But it didn't change anything."

Her heart dropped into her stomach as she caught his meaning. "You're still going to Hell."

He smiled sweetly. "Always was, I reckon." His nose scrunched up in distaste. "Just a little sooner than I'd hoped."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, we'll fix this." The words transported her to another place, another time. God, it felt like so long ago. How was it only a year? Or less?

His lips twisted into a humorless smirk, and she knew he was right there with her. In that moment, frozen in time. And then they were moving again as his words broke the spell. "No, Buffy." He shook his head slowly. "Don't think we will this time, luv." Sad eyes met hers. "I'm sorry."

She was incredulous. "For what?"

"For doing this to you again." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have called."

She reached for him, the first tear leaking out when her hand fell through his shoulder. "Don't you ever say that, Spike? You hear me?" She wanted to shake him, force him to hear her. The instinct ashamed her, and she was suddenly glad she couldn't touch him. "If this is…." she trailed off, looking away. She exhaled slowly and started again, "If this is it, if this is really...then I'm glad we had this moment. Right now."

"I love you." The next tear leaked out, and she opened her mouth to say the words back, but she felt a delicious pressure against her lips before she could. The whisper of cool lips against hers. His voice was rough when he spoke again. He looked tired, and she wondered how much effort such a small touch had taken. "Tell Dawn I said hello, and..."

He stood, not seeing her, as she shook her head and got out of bed. His eyes were haunted, flitting from spot to spot around the empty room, clearly seeing things she couldn't. He smiled tightly when he looked back at her. "Do me a favor and live a good, long life. And...don't look for me again, Slayer."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already gone. The dam broke as his last word hung in the air.

"Goodbye."

~BTVS~

She studied him as he lay sleeping beside her. It had been a long road to get to this point. They had more than their share of ups and downs, accumulating into a soul she hadn't deserved. Not that she'd ever convince him of that.

She should say the words. She'd felt them since before he'd left to get his soul. Felt them every time he'd accepted her when her friends could not. Every time he forgave her for the unforgivable. She should say them now.

She mouthed them, her lips forming the syllables without the sound coming out. It was a step, right? It seemed so easy in theory. They were just three innocuous little words.

And he deserved to hear them.

She settled back down beside him. There would be time after the big battle. She would say them then.

She should have known better.

Regret was a real bitch. She had listened to Fred's hesitant theories about what had happened to Spike. That the amulet had been meant for Angel. And since the wrong vampire used it, they just let him go, shipping him off to Hell. Like he didn't matter. She listened to Gunn tell them that the Senior Partners confirmed he was gone and they needed to move on and do their jobs.

She listened to Willow's gentle encouragement to let him go and fly back to England with her. Listened to them all say that they were 'sorry.' That was helpful. She tried not to listen to Dawn's sobs. Tried not to feel the younger girl's anger and accusations as she gave up.

"You never really loved him."

Buffy's hand twitched, and she wanted to slap her. Only the memory of the last time she'd done that stopped her. The guilt and the shock. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Dawn. Go to bed."

Her sister was stubborn, though. Like her vampire. "He would have looked for you if you'd gone to Hell."

She was gone, flouncing off to her room, before Buffy could reply.

~BTVS~

"Oh, bloody hell." Was he in a sodding waiting room? He shifted in the uncomfortable chair and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked around the four doorless, windowless walls. A young girl appeared before him, and he knew who she was immediately.

He'd never seen her like this before. All of three feet with light blonde pigtails and innocent green eyes. But he'd recognize his girl anywhere. Any time. "Hello, Buffy."

She smiled brightly at him, and his dead heart twinged. He'd seen that smile before, years and years ago. Before Angelus had stomped on her heart. Before, soldier boy had tossed it in a blender. Before, he'd attempted, and failed, to mend the fractured pieces.

"Do you want to leave?" she asked sweetly.

"Leave where? Where are we, luv? And where am I going?" Was it back to Hell? He didn't really fancy that idea, but it wasn't like he didn't deserve it.

"That's up to you." He knew, then, that he wasn't talking to the Slayer's younger self.

"You're one of the bloody Powers That Be."

She nodded. "Your Slayer has been looking for you. Tearing apart Earth and Hell to find you."

He rolled his eyes. "Of bloody course she has. Bint wouldn't listen to me if it were a matter of life and death."

The Power smiled. "She loves you." He scoffed but didn't bother to correct her. "We've been watching you for a long time, William the Bloody. You've surprised us time and time again. You've shown uncharacteristic loyalty and self-sacrifice."

He sighed and waved her away. "And?"

"And so has the Vampire Slayer."

He raised his scarred brow. "And?"

"Do you want to return to her, William?"

Does a starving man want food? A drowning man air? "What kind of question is that?"

The girl smiled, and the world went bright white.

~BTVS~

"You look tired, luv."

Boy, was she ever. She rolled the tension from her shoulders and faced him with a sigh. "Was it the bags that gave it away?"

He smiled, and her stomach did a strange little flip. "No. It was the slay without the pithy little quip that did."

She slumped. "I want to sleep for a year."

He laughed and shrugged. "That's not all it's cracked up to be."

She raised a brow that silently demanded an explanation. His smirk grew. "Well...sleep wasn't all I did, I s'pose."

She raised her palm and held her arm out. "Don't say any more."

His chuckle reverberated through her as he scooped her up in his arms. "I happen to have a nice big bed not far from here."

She pretended to consider this. "And would sleep be on the menu?"

He leered down at her. "Among other things."

She rolled her eyes and hid a smile as he pulled her deeper into the shadows. She wished she could be like this with him all the time. Her thumb grazed over his knuckles, still bruised from where he'd taken his anger out on a wall after she'd attacked him in a fit of rage the other day. Struck a wall instead of her. Never her.

Her guilt fell away when he tossed that boyish grin of his back in her direction when they walked into his crypt. She let herself be one with the moment as his lips slanted over hers and their clothes melted off. She gasped when he backed her up so she leaned against the sarcophagus and dropped to his knees before her.

Her head fell back as his wicked tongue made a canvas out of her slit, drawing teasing circles around her clit before pulling it between his teeth. Shock waves flowed through her as he devoured her, and her laugh unsettled the air as she broke apart in his mouth.

He stood as she caught her breath, and she could see it in his eyes, his love for her. And something more as he touched her shoulder and gently pushed her to her knees. He didn't demand an apology for her actions. He never demanded words. Just action. Her submission was an action.

She rarely took the time to please him as thoroughly as he lived to please her. He rarely asked her to try. When he did, she knew she'd hurt him more than usual. So, without protest, she darted her tongue out and swirled it around his cockhead. She breathed deeply through her nose as she moved forward and swallowed him down as far back as she could, delighting in his loud groan.

"That's it, luv," he murmured approvingly as he put his hand on either side of her face and started thrusting. She allowed him control. Offered it as penance. She worked her lips and tongue as he pounded in and out of her mouth, bringing a hand up to play with his neglected balls.

She moaned out a whine when he suddenly pulled out of her, forcing her back to her feet and turning her around. She braced herself against the cold stone top of the sarcophagus as he entered her in one deep thrust. His fingers came around her front to tweak her clit, and she fell apart again, her hips losing their rhythm as she tried to keep up with him.

She reached back and fondled his sack, and he came with a roar that delighted her, his pace punishing as he pumped wildly into her. She squeezed her inner muscles tightly as she milked him. He was draped over her back, both slumped over the stone coffin for several moments.

When he finally slipped out of her, she felt the loss keenly. And when he picked her up and crossed the crypt in a few short steps to jump down into his bedroom, she knew she wouldn't feel it for long.

"How do you feel about a li'l bondage tonight, Slayer?" He chuckled as the fingers that had found their way back inside her, slowly pumping in and out, grew wetter.

Hours later, she was turned toward him, watching him sleep, his silk sheets soft against her skin. She really was exhausted. Really should be sleeping. "Go to sleep, luv." Apparently, he agreed.

She let her eyes flutter to a close and wondered if he knew that she was sorry. Her hand ghosted over his abs before finally settling against his chest. Where his unbeating heart was. His hand came up, and he folded his fingers over hers, and she thought that maybe he did.

Her eyes flew open, startling her from her dream memory, when a knock sounded at the door. She groaned and rolled to her feet, clutching her still-burning ribs. She limped through the dark apartment until she reached her front door. "I told you I'm fine," she gritted out as she threw the door open.

Her eyes widened, and she was pretty sure her heart stopped.

"I thought I told you not to look for me again."

She wordlessly shook her head. "You're really here." She wondered if he heard her breathless words, she wasn't sure she actually said them.

"What did you do, Slayer?" he asked, stepping closer until he practically leaned against the invisible barrier that kept him out.

"A series of trials." She looked him up and down and finally reached out to touch him, nearly sobbing when her palm connected with the smooth plains of his face.

His face scrunched up in confusion. "Like mine in Africa?"

"Come in, Spike." She barely kept from giggling as the barrier disappeared, and he stumbled in. "And kind of. Not quite. These were set by the PTB. They were...difficult. I didn't think I'd passed them." She stepped closer, grasping his face between her tiny hands. "You're really here."

"Were there consequences?" he asked, his eyes piercing.

"Only some busted ribs and a bruised ego." She studied him. "I would've gone through a lot worse for you."

His sounded wrecked when he finally summoned his voice, "Buffy."

She placed a finger over his lips. "I love you." God, it felt good to finally say those words. "I love you, Spike. I've loved you for years, and I should have said it a long, long time ago."

His eyes were shocked and awed. "You mean it?"

"I love you," she whispered before standing on her tiptoes and kissing him lightly, just like he had her so many months earlier before disappearing into Hell. "I'm sorry it took so long to say it. And to find you."

He shook his head, and his lips moved against hers. "I told you not to look," he repeated.

"When have I ever listened?" she asked with a slight laugh before fusing her lips to his again. She grabbed him by the lapels of his duster and dragged him further into her apartment, ignoring the twinge in her ribs as she did so.

"Dawn will want to see you in the morning. But I want you right now." She pulled away suddenly as a horrifying thought occurred to her. "This...I mean, you do still want me, right? 'Cause, if not, that's okay. I mean, I'll just be happy that you're walking this earth somewhere. Even if it's you, know, not at my side-"

He shut her up with a searing kiss. "Shut the fuck up, you daft bint."

She didn't take offense as he gently maneuvered her toward the bedroom. A thud echoed through the apartment, followed by, "Ow! Bloody hell, woman. Would it kill you to clean your sodding room?"

Her answering giggle rang out, followed by moans of pleasure and whispered words of love and devotion.