RAVELL'D SLEAVE OF CARE
by perletwo
Dawn turned on the radio and danced around the kitchen, making a breakfast quesadilla filled with eggs, jam and oatmeal. She sang along with the radio as she flipped the tortilla in the pan.
"Nibblet?" Spike came running downstairs in jeans, T-shirt and bare feet, hair sticking up wildly in every direction.
"Oh. You're still here." Dawn pouted, but her normal early-morning cheer got the better of her. "I wasn't making too much noise, was I?"
"Just the opposite, pet," he said, pulling open the refrigerator. He poured himself some tomato juice, then added Worcestershire sauce for a virgin bloody mary. "Gaah. Just not the same without the actual blood."
Dawn's brow crinkled. "Lemme get this straight. You *want* me to wake up the whole house?"
"Nah. Not the *whole* house, pet," he said, sipping gingerly. "Just Buffy. She crashed out a few hours ago, an' I know she's gotta get to work soon, but I can't get'er to wake up."
Dawn stared at him through narrowed eyes, lips pursed, for a long moment. Then she spluttered into laughter.
"*What?*" Spike asked, hand over heart.
"C'mon, Spike. Buffy doesn't *sleep,*" she laughed. "Everybody knows *that.*"
He looked slightly hurt. "W'l, she's sleepin' now, Nibblet. Makin' up for lost time, I guess."
"Naah. Buffy. Never. Sleeps. She catnaps. Slayer thing. Goes with the supercalifragilisticexpialadocious metabolism and all those late nights out on patrol. She wears *me* out and I'm the one that's supposed to have the turbocharged, hormonoriffic teen metabolism. Plus all the stress and worry of daily grind stuff. You're makin' this up."
"Am not," he said. "And you're gettin' me worried, platelet. Come an' check on 'er with me?"
"Is she decent?" Dawn crossed her arms over her chest.
"God I hope not," he said with a leer, and she scowled. "Breakfast's burnin', Bit."
Dawn yelped and made a dive for the stove.
"See?" Spike pushed open the door to Buffy's bedroom gingerly, and Dawn peeked in.
Spike's overshirt, jacket and boots were strewn around the room, mingling lewdly with assorted pieces of Buffy's outfit from yesterday. The clock radio had gone off and salsa was rocking the room at high volume.
And through the din and the cheery sunlight streaming in through the window, Buffy slept, coccooned in bedlinens and curled around a pillow cradled in her arms. Her breathing was deep and regular, and a contented smile floated upon her lips.
Despite her resolve to disapprove of Spike's spending the night, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of her sister sleeping so peacefully at last.
"Watch," he said, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He took her shoulder in one hand and shook it gently; Buffy gave no response, and her arm stayed slack. "Luv?" he said, shaking her shoulder again; he leant down toward her ear. "BUFFY?"
That got him a vague mumble and a shift in position, and he looked back at Dawn and shrugged.
Before Dawn could respond, Buffy's other arm shot up around Spike and yanked him down beside her on the bed. Nudging the spare pillow aside, she cuddled herself up to Spike in its place. "...mmm..." she murmured in her sleep, unconsciously using her Slayer strength to keep him in her embrace. "...missed you..."
"Missed you too, luv," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "Umm, Dawn?..."
She waggled her fingers at them briefly. "I'll go call Buffy's office, tell 'em she's come over all sickish."
"Sell it good, Nibblet," he said gratefully. "Uh, before you go?" He pointed to the curtains. Understanding lit up her face, and she hurried to block the morning sun.
On her way out, she shut the alarm clock off. "When she wakes up?" Spike looked up inquiringly. "Tell her I hope she got a good night's sleep..." She dodged an airborne Teenie Beanie Baby and scurried out the door.