It was the sound of metal rasping on metal that tugged her from the blackness she was curled up fast asleep in. Buffy moaned softly and rolled onto her side, pulling the several layers of blankets over her head. "I'm sleepy, Mom. Just a few more minutes, 'kay?" she mumbled into the soft pillow. As she sank back into a deep healing sleep, Buffy frowned slightly at the sound of a faint masculine chuckle. Then her breathing deepened and the soft snores she'd been emitting earlier began to fill the room again.

Spike carefully placed the sabre he'd been sharpening on the coffee table and ghosted over to the open door and peered into his bedroom. He leant against the doorframe, arms crossed over his naked chest and limned in moonlight. His pale skin was a startling contrast to the bruises and scraps that littered his upper torso; he ran a tired hand through his tousled hair. Absently he ran a cautious finger over the bruise on his cheekbone and then sighed in unison with the small bundle of slayer snoring away on his bed.

He was cursed, he knew it.

The wish that Dru had inflicted upon him had changed him. He was saving slayers and ensouled granddads now? He sighed. It was getting worrying; he was changing into something he didn't recognise. The gradual change from 'The Big Bad' to whatever the hell he was now was beginning to snowball into a big change. A change that was starting to surprise the balls off of him. Never in his unlife had he expected to be where he was. Spike snorted at the realisation. If he were really honest with himself, then he wasn't too bothered by the changes. He'd never been one for causing apocalypses, he preferred to just muddle along, frightening the locals and getting involved in the occasional brawl was always good for the psyche. But since Anyanka had dragged him kicking and screaming to the Hellmouth, something inside him had started to shift and it tickled at his psyche. He doubted it was a moral compass - he was pretty sure Dru had drained that out of him in the stable when she turned him.

The days filled with setting himself out with his posh new digs and the nights spent being forced to stalk the pretty kitten curled up in his bed had made him stop and think. Peaches may have her on a nice shiny pedestal and determined to keep her there, but Spike had realised she was just a girl. A girl with some added extras but who was trying to balance her two lives out and still have time to be more than just a weapon for the White Hats.

It was that determination in her that had started his respect to kick in and take over from the moody bastard he'd become. The admiration that was budding in him was slowly spreading into dangerous territory, something he was trying to ignore, but she was a bloody gorgeous bird. Part of him still railed at Dru for tossing him aside and another part still yearned for his sire, but the fiery little madam snoring away in his bedroom was slowly wriggling her way into his heart and mind and Spike was surprised with himself for letting her.

The bint was a pretty little thing and a bloody impressive fighter--rough around the edges and still needing training. But when she danced he was aching to join her and shake the gates of hell with their brawls. That was something an evil demon shouldn't crave, but he was slowly beginning to realise that there was more to life than a warm neck and the scent of fear as he drained it. And it was all her fault. Or he wished he could blame it all on her.

"Back in a tick, pet. Need to go check on the other patient." He grimaced slightly, "though he's not as pretty as you, needs must and all that." Spike sighed and padded out of his apartment and headed to the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~

"That looks right nasty." Spike swung through the doorway and frowned at Angel's slumped form on the bed in the alcove. He frowned at the bloody mess of Angel's back and mentally thanked whoever looked out for evil sods like him that Angel had been nabbed and not him.

"Doesn't feel that good from this end either," Angel muttered and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable on his bed.

"Right." Spike sauntered into the kitchen and picked up the first aid kit he'd been using earlier. "Thought I told you to keep still and let the wounds heal. You've been poking and prodding at 'em, haven't you?"

Angel twisted his head, trying to track his grandchilde's movement. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. He was still in shock that the younger vampire had rescued him from the pair of demons earlier. He'd had been positive that he was dust or worse. Then Spike had appeared and saved him. There was an extremely horrified part of him that had curled up and died. He was the hero, not Spike, and yet he was the one in trouble and being saved - again.

"I'm knitting booties for the spawn you nearly birthed." Spike pulled out some more sachets of blood from the fridge and added tossed them onto the bed. "What does it look like, you big pansy? Am here to patch you up again."

"Ow, hey...Spike, what was that?" Angel craned his neck and frowned at the sight of his shredded back.

Spike said nothing and continued to clean the wounds that had re-opened with a wet flannel and then frowned down at the deepest one. His heavy black fused together in deep thought as he considered the options for healing up the ponce. He'd already discounted giving him blood. 'Not going down that effing path.'

"There's nothing doing, Peaches. Am gonna have to stitch you up." Without any preamble, Spike dug out a needle and thread and began to carefully close the wound with a fine thread.

Spike shook his head at the muffled screams emanating from Angel. "Always knew you were a pillow biter," he chuckled, ignoring the angry growls issuing from the supine vampire, and carefully tied off the thread. He shifted into game face, slashed through the thread and gently slapped on a self-adhesive plaster. "Now get some sleep and don't bloody well wriggle about anymore. Those demons did a right nasty job on your back." He stood fluidly. "Do you want me to chain you to the bed?" he threatened jokingly.

"Shut up, Spike."

"Oh and that was such a lovely thank you for saving your lumpy arse and hauling you home and patching you up. God knows what would've happened to you if I hadn't arrived when I did."

Angel shuddered at the memories and the exact reason why the demons had been flaying him. It was something he would take to the grave, and he hoped Spike would at least have the decency to not tease him about it for much longer. 'They'd wanted to use him for carrying their...' Angel shuddered and reached for one of the bags of blood that Spike had left near to hand and drained it swiftly. 'If only Spike knew how much I owed him for tonight.' A small spark of pride ignited in his chest; one of his own get had come and saved him. None had ever cared enough to do that, not since the time in Rome when Darla had rescued him from Holtz and the Inquistores.

"Maybe it won't be that bad after all," he whispered and fell into a healing sleep. His mind was filled with hope at finally having a member of his family near him without wanting to dust him or thinking he was disgusting for having a soul.

As he slept, barely a memory for Spike as the blonde made his way back to Buffy, not realising that there were more family members around than he had ever dreamed of. They did think he was disgusting for having a soul and if their plans failed then they were certainly planning to dust him.

~~~~~~~~~

It was the near silent click of a door that finally pulled Buffy from the deep sleep she was mired in. Confusion filled her the unfamiliar surroundings she'd been so comfortable in moments ago.

"What the?" She slowly pushed herself up and leaned back against the pillows she had been snoring into. She knew she had been as the back of her throat was dry and her nose was scratchy. Her eyes flitted around the dark room; the only light was coming in through the open door. Her fingers twisted nervously in the layers of blankets covering her. She pushed her hair out of her face and huffed loudly. "This is getting weirder and weirder." One minute she was on the docks, the next in the icky water and then nothing.

"So you're awake," a deep voice rumbled.

"Ahhh!" She slid under the covers with a whimper.

Spike approached the bed with a laugh. One minute she'd been all big eyes and quivery lips and now the slayer of his kind was hiding under his sheets and muttering to herself under her breath.

"You okay in there?" With a humourous inflection in his voice and unable to resist, he teasingly pulled on one of the blankets he'd layered over her sleeping form earlier.

Buffy's breath hitched at the sound of the voice again and then she freaked. From her current position she'd managed to discover that she was not wearing any clothes, only her white bra and matching panties. She began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god, he's seen me naked," she repeated over and over under her breath.

"Oh for Christ's sake, I didn't look that much. Just got you stripped down, dried off and tucked up nice and snug in m'bed," Spike retorted. "Bloody annoying little chit, you're not even naked," he added inaudibly. Spike omitted to mention that he had appreciated the honey brown skin and the softness of her belly. He avoided telling her that he had run his hands over her face and hair and memorised her features. Shifting slightly he determinedly willed his cock to calm down. Somehow he doubted that the sweet innocent in his bed would be ready to have an eye to cock view of his hard on.

Buffy reappeared from under the covers, her hair tangled and covering her face. "Ha! You're a depraved weirdo who wanders around the docks looking for, um...ewww! Oh my god! You're a perv and you kidnapped me and brought me to your icky lair and well...put me to bed and made sure I didn't get a cold—"she trailed off and flushed with mortification.

"Saved you from drowning, got you somewhere safe and warm, made sure you didn't catch a chill, gave you my own bed to sleep in and never touched a hair on your pretty little head." Spike ticked off each point with a smirk. He thought it wise to not mention licking her wounded lips and sealing the cuts. The taste was still lingering on his tongue and his fangs were itching for more.

"You saved me?" Buffy squeaked and then blinked when she finally focused on Spike. 'Whoa, he's a hottie,' her inner cheerleader squealed and Buffy blinked once and then twice. "Who are you?" She pulled the blankets further up to her chin, her eyes questioning.

He resisted the temptation to tease her with the reply of 'who ever you want me to be, babe' and sank down next to the bed. "The name's Spike."

"Your mom named you Spike?" Buffy mentally slapped herself for sounding so lame.

"No, and no I am not ruddy well telling you any more about that, so pipe down." Spike raised a finger and waved it at her. Part of Buffy was aching to get out of bed and cross examine the cute guy, but she was naked and there was no way she was gonna move.

"I'm Buffy," she blurted out, realising that he had no idea who she was.

"I know, pet. Seen you around and we have a -" Spike pulled a sour face, "a - mutual friend in common."

"Huh?" Buffy frowned at him. If she knew someone that he did there was no way she'd not have noticed the cuteness that was Spike. Then she froze as a warning tingle erupted down her spine. "What are you?" She edged backwards and fell off the bed with a squeak of humiliation. Buffy wondered if she could just keep the blankets permanently over her head. She flushed in mortification of the lameness that was her and managed to twist one around her body.

"You okay down there?" Spike lounged on the bed and stared over the side at the wriggling mass of blankets and tried not to roll about laughing at her cuteness.

"Just goddamn fine," she muttered and stood, humiliated at how dumb she was making herself look.

"Good to know." Spike tucked his hands behind his head and arched his back, deliberately making sure she had a good view of his chest. "And as for what I am...Come on, Slayer. Don't make me spell it out for you." He deliberately emphasised her title and with a twinkle in his eyes he lithely stood in front of her. He knew he was taking a gamble, she could just as easily stake him as befriend him, but he was counting on her being a little naïve and hopefully not too lethal.

"You know Angel?" was all she said, nothing about being a vampire, which surprised him.

"Yeah, he's family." Spike couldn't help himself. "I saved him from being impregnated with the eggs of the Gishnar demons you got cold cocked by and patched him up."

"Ewww, whaaa? That's gross. Hey, are you cursed too?" Buffy stared guilelessly up at him. "Is Angel okay?" she added breathlessly, guilt nudging at her that she hadn't immediately asked after him.

"Fine. He'll heal up just fine. Don't you worry your pretty head about Peaches. As for the gross, what they do is slice and dice their victims and lay their eggs just under the skin until they are...er... ready to hatch." He trailed off at the green look on her face. "Are you sure you're the Slayer?" he teased.

"What? Yeah why?" She frowned at him and then down at the blanket, knowing she wasn't really presenting herself at her Slayerly best, but he didn't have to make fun of her.

"Not too good with the more colourful stuff about your job, are you?" he grinned, his face transforming boyishly and Buffy's breath caught in her throat.

'Holy crap! He is so cute...damnit, Buffy. Remember Angel, he's the one you want...' But she wasn't so sure when faced with the muscled chest of Spike - the nice smiley hexed vampire. Angel was still all mysterious guy and 'ohhhh, there's a big thing going down and you have to go slay it' before then mysteriously swirling off into the shadows, never really stepping in to get his hands dirty. He confused her and now here was one of his hot relatives, bare-chested and smiling at her, having saved her and Angel. He was all approachable and real, not enigmatic and broody. There was something really vital and genuine about him; the energy pouring off Spike was amazing. The humour and twinkle in his really blue eyes was pulling at her, and the smile on his lips was making her all goose-bumpy and wanting to giggle like Harmony.

'Oh bloody hell.' Spike sniffed the air and then inhaled deeply. His nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening with arousal, his body reacted to Buffy's delicate scent of excitement with a powerful interest. 'M'not here to shag the chit, jus' here because of that sodding wish. Spike ol'man, don't you sodding dare fall for her...Oh bollocks'

He reached over and pulled her to him, his mouth swooping down and capturing her startled mouth with his and kissed her.

For a brief breathless moment she froze, then under his insistent mouth hers relaxed and Buffy let his questing tongue dip into her mouth with a breathy moan. One hand clutching the blanket tightly, she leant into his body and let her free hand slide up his back and her fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. Part of her was kicking herself for kissing him, betraying Angel and the bigger part of her was swooning over his kiss.

It was the best thing that had ever happened to her mouth in her life.

He was soft and tender to start and then nipping at her lips with his teeth and fiercely sucking her lower lip. A demanding, expert and harsh way that was sending tingles down her spine and making her crotch clench. Buffy sighed against his lips, taking a much needed gasping breath when he pulled back for one brief moment. She barely had time to refill her lungs before he was swooping down and capturing them again with his, his tongue lapping at the corners and then slipping past them to curl with hers. Buffy could feel her toes curling and her nipples hardening in excitement. She never wanted him to stop; she wanted him to kiss her like that forever.

Spike groaned and wrapped his hands around her waist. He picked her up and held her against his body, his cock aching for release as his hips rocked against her. He was surprised that she hadn't wriggled away at the feel of it. He let one of his hands clutch at her soft backside as the other caught the back of her head.

Both of them were so lost in the kiss that neither of them noticed their silent observers.

"I told you that he liked her," Anya hissed and smacked Whistler on the back of the head. Now that she had been able to step back from the situation and realised that she'd been set up with a losing hand, she had returned every now and then to watch over Spike. He was a fellow demon and she felt bad for getting him involved with the Slayer. But from the look of things he was adapting quite well and enjoying some of the on the job perks. She had to stop herself from doing a Pylean Dance of Victory the moment she'd clapped eyes on Angel, she had disliked the big lummox. This was just perfect in her book; the two blonds were made for each other.

"I know. Jeez, give a demon a break, will you?" Whistler winced and ducked away from her, his eyes riveted on the scene being played out in front of them. Somehow he'd never seen this coming and he doubted the Powers had either, but there was something right about the scene in front of him. He felt badly for Angel. He'd been the one to recruit him and dangle the pretty slayer-shaped carrot in front of his eyes-- and now this.

"Now what's going to happen?" Anya demanded. Something surged inside of her - something very unfamiliar. It was protectiveness for a male. She frowned. Usually she liked to curse males and watch them suffer. But something about Spike appealed to her and if the Powers had something nasty planned then they would have her and all of Arashmahar to deal with.

"How would I know? All I was told to do was get him on side and playing nice with the White Hats. I didn't expect this." He pointed at Spike lapping at the hollow of Buffy's throat. Whistler was stunned that a Slayer was letting a vampire near her throat like that and wondered if it was all fated to happen.

"Me either, but it makes things kind of interesting." Anya grinned wickedly and vanished in a puff of smoke.

"It does. Just hope she doesn't freak and stake him," Whistler added and then disappeared, leaving the oblivious blonds to their kiss.