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Nocturnal thoughts

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I wonder what I am doing here. Literally speaking I know what I’m doing here, freezing my ass off in a dank basement, staring at the bed. Or the contraption that passes for it. I could take the blanket against the cold, but I don’t want to disturb him. And I am thoroughly screwed. And it has nothing to do with this bleeding chip. And I have grown soft in the head.
I know it, all of it, but for some reason I don’t care. Don’t care what his effin’ friends will think of me, not that I ever did, don’t care that the Slayer will probably (make that certainly) be after me with her sharpest stake once she finds out, don’t care that that poof of a Grand Sire of mine will be after me as well, just don’t care.
What I do care about is the person lying in that bed, sleeping soundly, having no idea that I’m here. His hair’s tousled, face a little flushed, arms around a pillow, hugging it close. I wonder what he’s dreaming about, or rather, whom he’s dreaming about.
He and I have a strange relationship. We fight all the time, mostly about the stupidest things. A mislaid piece of clothing can result in a full-scale argument. Okay, the piece of clothing was his only clean boxer shorts and I did throw it outside, but still.
We drive the rest crazy with our bickering, I know that too. In fact, I love that part. He does too, but he’ll rather bite his tongue than to admit that. That lot thinks were archenemies or something, little do they know.
How they would freak if they knew what goes on once we enter this basement, how his eyes find mine and how the look in them changes. Those eyes soften and he smiles at me. It’s always the same starting ritual; the outcome is not always the same. Like tonight. We got into a huge fight, damned if I remember what it was about. The end result was me storming out and getting plastered at Willy’s.
Now I’m back. Knew I would. Can’t stay away from him. I need him, want him. Love him too.
“Spike?”
Bleary eyes stare at me, no trace of anger in them. If anything I see relief. I sit down on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do or say.
“I’m sorry. Found the remote underneath the bed.”
Oh, so that’s what the fight was about. How stupid. I look at him, find his eyes again, drown in them. Slowly he moves forward and I watch as mesmerized. Arms come around me and I lean into that embrace.
“Glad you’re back.”
Register me as officially lost from this moment on. Completely lost in Xander world and damned if I want to be found again. I draw back a little.
“Love you, pet.”
He smiles, eyes shining. Opens his mouth….
“Spike! What the fuck are you doing here??”

Dream. Another one…….