"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." He didn't sound okay; he sounded like someone trussed up in an uncomfortable chair in his ex's bedroom.

Buffy sat on the bed and brushed her hair. This whole keeping an eye on Spike thing wasn't as easy as it had seemed earlier. She hadn't fully appreciated just how much trouble it must have been for Xander and Giles when they had looked after the vampire when he was first chipped. With the Big Bad able to turn Spike into a killing machine at the drop of a melody, Buffy hadn't been able to relax all day. And this despite the fact that Spike had spent most of the daylight hours curled up in a ball, sleeping, crying and looking confused.

Spike jumped when she turned on her hairdryer, though he didn't look around. Probably couldn't, with his chair facing the opposite direction. There had been a long debate among the Scoobies about where to put Spike for the night. Everyone else's preferred choice had been the bathroom; it was next to Buffy's room, where she could hear him, and chaining him up in the bathtub was a tried and tested method of keeping Spike under control. But Buffy was concerned that he might throw himself out of the bathroom window and get away before she had time to react. She wanted him somewhere where she could check up on him at any time. So he was tied to a chair in her bedroom. Nobody had liked that idea.

"You going to sleep?" Buffy asked Spike when she had finished drying her hair.

"I'm a vampire. Sleep during the day," was his mumbled response.

A world of duh. "Do you want a book to read?"

"Can't turn the pages. Look, don't worry about me," he said in that 'I don't deserve it' voice he'd had all day. "Just go to sleep."

"Yeah." Buffy sighed and curled up in bed. She turned the bedside lamp off and closed her eyes.

Okay. So sleeping wasn't her best subject these days. When it wasn't girls getting killed or things devouring from beneath, it was more nightmares of Spike in game face, wearing nothing and attacking her. Which was pretty freaky; especially the wearing nothing part, since her subconscious mind insisted on showing her a naked Spike who was happy to see her. Buffy tossed and turned, then sat up.

She could see the outline of the chair against the window, and a slight bump where Spike's head peeked over the back. Having sat in that chair herself, Buffy knew how uncomfortable it was. She wondered what he was doing, sitting bolt upright with his hands tied to the arms of the chair. Sleeping? Thinking? Resisting the Big Bad's influence?

Her heart jumped when he moved. His head ducked to one side, disappearing from the silhouette, and she heard a strangled sniffle.

"Spike, are you okay?" she whispered, mindful of the fact that Dawn was only one door away.

"Hmm. Yeah. Fine." His voice was weak, and he sniffed again.

Buffy hugged her knees, unsure what to do. At the very least, he needed to have a free hand, so he could wipe away his tears. But what if the Big Bad came back? Seized with sudden panic, Buffy crawled to the edge of the bed nearest to his chair.

"Spike, is it back? Is it tormenting you again?"

"No," he sobbed. "Just me. Just what I did."

"Oh."

Buffy kneeled at the edge of the bed. There were Kleenex on her bedside table, but she didn't think Spike would be too pleased if she went to wipe his face like a child.

"Oh, Spike," she murmured.

He sniffed loudly, and bent his head to wipe his eyes on his shirt. "Sorry. Don't mind me. Don't want you to feel bad. Don't want your pity."

"It's not pity," Buffy assured him. "Look, I'll untie you and get some tissues, so you can wipe your eyes."

"No, don't untie me. You have to keep me restrained!" She could hear the panic in his voice as she went to get the box of tissues. "You can't let me kill again. Please don't let me kill again!"

"I won't," she promised, placing the box on his knee. She started to untie his right hand. "I'll protect you. I'll kill it."

He looked up at her, his pale face unguarded and earnest in the dim light. "I don't think it's the kind of thing you can kill, pet."

"Well, I'll try. Everything has a weak spot. I'm the Slayer, and I'm not going to let anything mess with my friends." She thought about adding 'and enemies' to qualify that declaration where Spike was concerned, but it seemed unfair in the light of his state of mind. "I've always won before. I can win again."

Spike's right hand was free; he raised it to her face, touching it with a tender expression that tugged at her heart strings. Oh God. Oh God, no. Not now. Not when there was a strong possibility she would have to stake him to defeat this Big Bad. Unable to stand the look on Spike's face, she leaned down and kissed his mouth.

He slid his free hand into her loose hair, and tilted his head to place a series of little kisses on her lips. Buffy felt a familiar longing running through her veins. She pushed the box of Kleenex away and lifted one knee onto the chair, beside Spike's lap. He turned his face away from hers with a gasp.

"You should really go back to bed," he whispered. "Jumping me isn't going to help."

Buffy drew away and stared at him. For a moment, Spike looked almost smug, as if he was confident he had said the right thing. But then he noticed her expression, and his face turned confused, then panicked. Unnerved both by his rejection and the bewildered look on his face, Buffy hastily slid back into bed.

"I'm sorry!" he said out loud. "Buffy! I didn't mean it. Please, I didn't mean it."

The connecting door to Dawn's room flew open. Buffy winced as her little sister turned the light on, though she had to smile at the vision of Dawn standing in the doorway, holding a stake in one hand and a cross in the other.

"What's happening, Buffy?" she asked, blinking with sleep. "Is he attacking you again?"

"Dawn, we're fine," Buffy assured her. "Everything is fine. We were just talking. Go back to bed."

"You sure?" Dawn observed Spike with suspicion. From her point of view in the doorway, she couldn't tell that one of his hands was free. "Okay... you shout if you need me."

Buffy smiled. "I think I can handle one vampire. But I'll be sure to let you know if he gets possessed again."

Dawn still didn't look convinced, but she lowered her stake and returned to the other room. Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe moving into Mom's old room wasn't such a hot idea after all; she hadn't thought about how close they would be. Things might get very embarrassing if she ever got another boyfriend. Or if she started making with the smoochies with Spike again. She turned onto her side, her back to Spike.

"I'm sorry, pet," he whispered after a while. "God, why's it all so hard? Do the right thing, but still hurting, always causing pain and suffering. Always wrong. So bloody wrong."

Buffy sighed. "Spike, sometimes you can do the right thing and still hurt someone. I'm the one who's wrong. Don't worry about it."

"Okay, okay. Don't worry. It's all right. Everything's fine." He was muttering under his breath, rocking slightly in his chair.

Buffy screwed her eyes shut, trying to shut out his mumblings. He had never been her most formidable opponent, but he had been a good fighter and her best lover. It hurt too much to see him fall so low. After a while, his ranting stopped and Buffy dozed off.

She woke with a start again. Her dreams had been full of Spike, her subconscious mind screaming to her that he needed help and she had to protect him. Buffy turned over to face him. She couldn't even see the outline of his head; her heart filled with dread.

"Spike?" she whispered. "You asleep?"

"No, pet." Her body relaxed as relief flooded it. "Bad dream?" he asked.

"Kinda."

Buffy lay in silence for a while, mentally going over the events of the last couple of days. Holden Webster, Spike turning people, the Big Bad attacking everyone, her house turned upside down. Some days seemed to last forever.

"Spike? Did you really talk to those girls?"

"What?"

"The girls you killed. You said you talked to them because you couldn't talk to me."

She heard him sigh. "Didn't have all the facts when I said that, did I?"

"But what did you talk about?"

"Bollocks. Me, you. Mess I've made of everything." He let out a quiet sound that was nearly a laugh. "It wasn't just girls, you know. There was this one chap, really nice fellow. Wanted me to tell him all about my family, my sex life, all that bollocks. Had experience with insanity, he said, so I thought he could help me. God, I really hoped he would help me. He was a nice fellow. And I killed him," he added with dismay.

"And then to top that all off, I went and staked him," said Buffy grimly. "So Holden Webster gave you the treatment too."

"Was that his name: Holden Webster? I wonder if he was named after the guy in Catcher In The Rye."

Buffy shrugged, even though he couldn't see her. "I don't know. What kind of a name is Holden anyway?"

"I won't make any comments about glass houses." Buffy could hear the amusement in his voice, and it warmed her heart. "Besides, it could be worse. I went to school with a fellow called Constant Merryweather."

"You're kidding!"

"No, seriously." Spike sounded more relaxed as he reminisced. "He and I used to hide in the laundry room and plot our revenge. That's when we weren't being used as footballs by our classmates, of course."

Buffy propped herself up on one elbow. "You were bullied at school?"

"Oh, don't you start," said Spike with irritation. "First thing your mate asked when he found out I didn't have any problems with my parents was 'were you bullied at school?'."

"You didn't have any problems with your parents?" Buffy was surprised. "Wow, that's kind of unusual, isn't it? I don't know anyone who doesn't have problems with their parents."

Spike hesitated before speaking. "Yeah, well, that's modern life for you. You'd be lucky to find someone whose parents even bothered to stick together nowadays. But yeah, I was lucky. My family loved me, even if no one else did. Most old Holden could psychobabble was that I was a bit too close to my mum after Father died. If she'd died before my dad, he'd probably have said I was traumatised because I missed her or some other such bollocks. I know those types; every boy has mummy issues, and every girl has daddy issues."

"Well, he did think I had issues with my father."

"Yeah, well, I have issues with your bloody father too," said Spike, his voice progressively getting louder as he spoke. "Broke my heart seeing Dawn get all worked up to call him, only to get some bloody secretary. Some people just don't deserve to be parents. And if you're telling me he's the reason you're all messed up, I've a good mind to hunt him down and-- and do something non-lethal to him."

"Shh! Not so loud, Dawn will hear you," admonished Buffy in a whisper. "Wait a minute. You think I'm messed up?"

"Well, yeah."

There really wasn't any need for him to qualify that, was there? Buffy thought back on the way she had treated him with a shudder. Yes, 'messed up' was a good way of putting it. She'd never have a happy relationship. She was too screwed up to deserve one.

"So what was your diagnosis?" she asked more lightly, struggling to keep her voice down. "Mine was that I had a superiority complex, and an inferiority complex about my superiority complex."

"Tsk. You still win. I just have an inferiority complex. And feelings of helplessness, insecurity and inadequacy," he added, intoning each word like a college professor. "And believe me, this thing that's been haunting me has been tapping into every single one of them."

Buffy smiled at the idea of Spike, the self-styled 'Big Bad', being insecure and helpless. Then her smile faded. It wasn't that funny, really; the bluster and the swagger had always been covers for the fragile man inside. And now that the soul had made him weak, he was all the more vulnerable to the evil's attack.

"Are you sure it's a thing?" asked Spike in a fearful voice. "It's not just me? It looked like me; I thought maybe I was seeing the demon as a separate entity, because I was insane. Thought maybe I was really doing all those murders because I wanted to. Maybe it's not an external force at all."

"Spike, I felt it. It talked to Willow and attacked Dawn." She moved to the edge of the bed again, and reached out to take his hand. "I know you don't want to kill, Spike. I guess you're more vulnerable to it because you still have all your demon urges, and... maybe all the guilt from the soul is feeding your insecurities. Or something. But I know you can control those urges. You've controlled them before. You never bit me when I was sleeping with you."

"I never wanted to--"

Buffy touched his face. "I know. Spike, you have to be strong and beat this."

Spike said nothing. He stared at her with a look of pure adoration.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "I don't deserve it."

"I don't deserve you."

The look on his face made Buffy melt again. No, she couldn't let this happen. It was too much. She felt as though her heart was going to burst with emotions she had long since tried to eradicate. She couldn't let herself feel this way. It would be too painful. She looked away.

"Maybe that's just our inferiority complexes at work," said Spike, also lowering his eyes to recover his composure. Then, as she watched, his eyes darted to the side, and a look of horror came over his face. "No. No, you're not here. I'm not listening to you."

"Is it here?" Buffy looked around; although she could see nothing, there was something in the room that sent shivers down her spine. "Spike?"

He was glaring at the empty space to his right, his face set in grim determination, his eyes defiant. But at the same time, he had the body language of a beaten dog; head lowered, cringing away from his tormentor in the hard chair. Buffy sprang off the bed and took a pointless punch at the air.

"Go away! Leave him alone," she exclaimed.

"'S all right," murmured Spike. "He's gone, pet. Just a quick visit to work on the complexes."

"What did it say?"

Spike shook his head; whatever the creature had told him, it had left him shaken. Buffy put her arms around him as he began to cry. God, she hated the evil for doing this to him. And hated herself for making him so weak in the first place. He would have been stronger without the soul. Stronger and easier to shut out.

"I'm sorry I'm making this so hard for you," he whispered, pulling away just far enough to look up at her. "You should kill me."

"You know I can't do that."

"Why?"

Reasons she couldn't explain, even now. Buffy stared into his earnest, guileless face and couldn't stand it anymore. She couldn't tell him; as long as she said nothing, maybe it wouldn't be true. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much in the end. So she kissed him again, losing herself in the simple, arousing taste of his lips and mouth.

There was no pulling away this time, no sensible comments about whether jumping him was going to help. Spike's free hand snaked around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He was breathing hard too, as if drawing air into his lungs was necessary to his arousal. His hand tugged at her grey top; Buffy let go of him to pull it off completely, letting her small breasts fall free in front of his face. He accepted the gift gratefully, guiding one nipple into his mouth. Buffy threw her head back and bit her lip to suppress a moan. Even if the Big Bad was going to drive them all insane tomorrow, at least, she would have no regrets. Well, not the regret of missing out on one last fling with Spike, anyway.

Spike slid his hand in between her legs, rubbing her hard through the material of her pyjama pants. Oh, God, this was going to be good. She stood up to push her pants down, and then sat on his lap again, entirely naked. Spike drew back a little to admire her. His eyes ran over her breasts, her stomach, her legs; she parted them a little to give him something else to look at. He touched her thigh almost reverently now, brushing his fingers against her skin.

The Big Bad's frustrating visit had left Buffy in the mood for something fast and furious. She pulled Spike's hand away; the arms of the wooden chair made it impossible for her to straddle him, so she untied him completely and pulled him towards the bed.

Spike leaned down to kiss her neck as she lay on the bedcovers. It was a gentle kiss, barely perceptible, and yet enough to make Buffy shiver with desire. He placed a similar kiss on her collarbone, and then between her breasts. A quick flick of his tongue on one nipple, another feather-light kiss on her stomach. Then his hands parted her legs, opening her up to him. The adoring look on his face was a caress on its own. He licked his lips and bent down towards her sex. Buffy curled her fingers into his hair and pulled him back towards her face. She wanted fast and furious; tenderness would be her undoing.

Spike looked disappointed, but he complied, following her lead as he had always done. He lay beside her, leaning up on one elbow, his black-clad body a stark contrast to her pale, naked one. His free hand started to stroke her body, retracing the path his lips had followed, but Buffy caught it and tugged him towards her. Spike was annoyed now, his beautiful features angry in the dim light. Before he could verbalise his complaint, Buffy kissed him again, pulling him on top of her and opening her legs to his denim hips.

She unzipped him just like the first time, running her hand briefly over his hard, swollen flesh, guiding it toward her own wet sex. He thrust into her automatically, and his angry expression softened. She clenched her legs around his hips, urging him to go faster, but he resisted, moving slowly, his face alight with tenderness and love. God, he had been painful to look at when he had no soul; now that she could see the depth of his love practically radiating from his blue eyes, he was unbearable. Buffy screwed her eyes closed as he moved inside her, the friction and his unique smell and the knowledge that this was Spike all combining into an overwhelming mixture that brought tears to her eyes.

He pulled away abruptly when a sob escaped her lips.

"Oh, God. Buffy, I thought you wanted-- what's wrong?"

Spike looked so utterly bewildered and bereft, crouching beside her, his erection protruding from his jeans, that Buffy couldn't stand it anymore. She sat up, hugging her knees to cover her nakedness and vulnerability.

"I love you," she sobbed. "Oh God, I love you so much, Spike."

Buffy began to cry in earnest, all the pain and emotion pouring from her in jagged gasps and sobs. Spike embraced her with a gentleness that only made things worse. She didn't deserve to be loved like this. They would only break each other's hearts.

"You silly mare," he murmured, kissing her hair. "And I thought I was a soppy sod."

Buffy sniffed and struggled to regain her composure by pulling away from him again. Spike watched her wipe her eyes, a small smile on his lips. He was savouring his victory, no doubt. No matter how much he loved her, it had to give him some satisfaction to have her declare her feelings after all this time. Spike had always believed that she would fall in love with him in the end.

They sat in silence for a while. Buffy turned to look at him.

"So, you gonna make love to me?"

"I'm a bit afraid to touch you," he admitted.

"I promise I won't cry." She leaned over to kiss him. "Let's have this night at least."

Spike returned her kiss, caressing her tongue when she slid it out to greet his. Buffy closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the erotic feel of his tongue probing her mouth. She lay back, pulling him with her. They kissed for what felt like ages, tilting their faces one way and then the other, never seeming to tire of the contact between their lips. After a while, though, Spike broke the kiss and drew himself up on his forearms. Buffy's heart sank at the worried look on his face.

"What if it comes back while we're having it off? Shouldn't I be tied up or something?"

Buffy tried to pretend that she was taking the threat lightly. "Why? You think you'll be listening out for folk songs while you're making love to me?"

Spike smiled, then laughed. He pulled off his T-shirt and jeans, and kneeled beside her, as if waiting for permission to touch her again. Or maybe giving her time to admire his gorgeous physique. All the crying and misery had done nothing to diminish his beauty in her eyes; if anything, he looked healthier than he had been the last time they had made love. Buffy dismissed the part of her that said this was probably due to the human blood he had consumed. She reached for him without a word, welcoming him into her embrace.

Buffy slid her arms around Spike's naked body as he placed himself above her. "I love you," he whispered in her ear, and she echoed the sentiment, running her hands down his muscular back and wrapping her legs around his hips. He hesitated a moment, then thrust forward. Buffy gasped and kissed his neck. Their mouths met again, and it was perfect. It didn't matter what life threw at them from now on; for that moment, they were happy.

Spike started off slowly, his movements careful and calculated to give her as much pleasure as possible. Buffy bit her lip, trying not to moan from the friction and the intoxicating feeling of making love to him. Sex with a vampire was like nothing else, as if the spidey sense that gave her a thrill every time her prey was near heightened her arousal and pleasure. And this was Spike, the vampire who had got his soul back for her, to be someone she could love. God, the one person who was so wrong had somehow managed to do everything just right. Still did everything just right.

Buffy looked up at him; his eyes were half-closed now, his expression almost pained as he lost himself in the moment. His slow rhythm was growing increasingly erratic, as if he were trying too hard to control it. Feeling her gaze on him, Spike opened his eyes and smiled at her. With a wicked grin, Buffy tightened her grip on his hips, ramming him inside her. It was his turn to moan.

When she relaxed her hold on him, Spike started to move faster, his eyes locked on hers. The sensations building up inside her were familiar but everything else was different. Spike was no longer averting his eyes, hiding his feelings against her shoulder; Buffy was no longer closing her eyes to avoid his loving gaze. She could look him in the eye now, see his love clearly on his beautiful face, and allow her own feelings to the surface for the first time in years. She knew there was nothing but heartache and pain to come, but maybe it was worth it for this moment.

They were fighting now, wrapped in each other, thrusting in unison, both lost in the pursuit of their release. For all their love and their souls, right now, they were predators locked in a battle for sensation. Spike's rhythm was becoming more savage, rattling the metal bedstead with each superpowered push of his hips. Buffy was thrusting back with the full strength of her Slayer muscles, her arms and legs wrapped around him, her nails raking his skin. A human lover would be dead by now, crushed in her supernatural grip, but Spike was just spurred on further by the pressure of her limbs. Buffy bit her lip to stifle her cry when she came. Spike kissed her neck, grunting without dignity as he followed her.

They lay together for a moment. After all the rattling and creaking, the room was silent save for the beating of Buffy's heart and her erratic breathing. Spike slid off her, lying on his side to regain his strength. It would take him no more than a minute to recover and be ready for another round. Buffy smiled. Great sex and a soul as well. No wonder she loved him.

Spike stroked her face, observing her with lazy, hooded eyes. Then his expression changed, and he stared at the door to Dawn's room. Buffy immediately followed his gaze, terrified that her sister might have heard the creaking and moaning, and caught them in the act. But the door was closed, and Buffy felt a momentary surge of relief. Until she realised what Spike was really seeing.

"Spike?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "That's not true," he said, pointing at the door. "So you can bugger off, mate." Spike glared at the empty space, some of his old swagger visible in his defiant expression. "Well, bollocks to you, too." Then the defiance vanished. He recoiled to the other side of the bed and clutched his head. "No! Go away! You're not here. Leave me alone! Please leave me alone."

Buffy crawled over to join him. She had never been so scared in her entire life. Angel's unexpected transformation into Angelus; his feral state after returning from the hell dimension; even the momentary fear she had felt when Spike assaulted her in the bathroom next door. It all seemed like nothing compared to how terrified she felt right now. She kneeled in front of Spike, trying to get in between him and the evil.

"Spike! It's not real. Look at me." Buffy shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth and make him snarl at her in his altered state. "Spike, pull yourself together! It's not real!"

"Buffy, what's happening?" she heard Willow ask behind her.

"Can we stake him now?" exclaimed Dawn. "And... ew! Are you two naked?"

For all her concern about Spike, Buffy was very pleased that a) she was kneeling in between him and the doors, and b) she had her back to her sister and best friend. Because in the middle of a crisis, the last thing she wanted was anyone distracted by the sight of her and Spike stark naked. As it was, she didn't want to turn around and see the look on Willow and Dawn's faces.

"Whatever you are, reveal yourself," intoned Willow in a very, very scary voice.

Buffy heard Dawn squeak, and the sound of the connecting door slamming shut. The closest garment was Spike's T-shirt; she grabbed it and clutched it to her chest as she turned towards Willow. She could see why Dawn had run away; the witch's eyes were completely black and she was scanning the room with deadly determination.

"Have you no shame, you vampire whore!" she snapped when her eyes fell on Buffy.

Behind her, Spike growled and seized Buffy's arm, reopening the wound he had inflicted on her the previous night. Looking over her shoulder, Buffy realised that he had shifted into game face, clearly feeling the effects of the Big Bad's control.

Okay. So not liking the situation right now. Scary lover, scary friend and some scary thing she couldn't even see.

Willow raised her hand and a bolt of blue energy hit Spike in the shoulder. He yelled in pain and let go of Buffy, before falling off the side of the bed. Meanwhile, Willow was looking normal again, and very, very sorry.

"It's gone," she said. "I saw it for a while, and then it went. I-I didn't mean... I get a bit--"

"It's okay," said Buffy, though she couldn't help giving her friend a wary look. So much for the idea that Darth Willow was gone for good.

"Bloody hell!" Spike pulled himself up into a kneeling position and leaned on the side of the bed. "You are one scary witch! That was bloody painful."

Willow gave him an embarrassed little smile. "Actually, you're kinda lucky I missed your heart."

"Oh." Spike reached for his pants and pulled them on, hiding behind the bed. "I think that pretty much covers everyone in this house having tried to kill everyone else, then."

"Yeah."

They all stayed silent for a moment, reflecting on what had just happened. Buffy retrieved her pyjamas and got dressed. Spike sat down on the bed, a devastated expression on his face.

"Bloody hell, I really should be staked," he murmured. "I'm too weak to resist it."

"I know a restraining spell," offered Willow. "That might be more effective than tying you up."

Spike gave her a dirty look. "Knowing you, you'd probably turn me into a leprechaun."

"Hey! I'm not some rank amateur, you know."

"No, just a very powerful one," responded Spike. He leaned his elbows on his knees and clutched his head. "God, Buffy, what are we going to do?"

Buffy exchanged a look with Willow. The witch hesitated, and then went through the connecting door into Dawn's room. Buffy would go and talk to her sister herself as soon as she had tended to Spike.

He was crying again, his face buried in his hands. She sat on the bed and drew him into her arms. They kissed tenderly, the caress deepening until Buffy felt the desire begin to rise again. She ran her hands over his smooth chest, placing little kisses on his cool shoulders and neck.

"I love you, Spike."

"God, I love you too." He hugged her with all his strength. "I don't want to be a liability, pet. I don't want to wake up from one of these episodes and find you dead."

"You won't. We're going to beat this thing," she said with determination. "There has to be some way to beat it, and we'll find it. I'm not going to let it mess with you like this."

Spike smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. "My saviour."

Buffy laughed at the idea of her being anyone's salvation. She went to get the restraints from the chair, and tied Spike's hands together, placing gentle kisses on his fingers as she drew the cords tight. Then she pushed him onto his back and attached the rope to the bed frame. It wouldn't hold out any longer than the chair if Spike became possessed again, but at least he would be more comfortable. Not to mention the other possibilities it presented while Spike was sane.

"I'll just check on Dawn," she said, running her hands on his naked chest. "I'll be back in a minute."

Spike flexed his muscles, testing the strength and length of his restraints. "Better make the most of me while I'm relatively sane."

"Don't worry. I will," said Buffy with a wicked smile.

And why not? Sleep was overrated anyway.