Spike sighed as he flipped through the television listlessly, and settled down for the night on the couch.

Harris had gone out for the night, on some errand he very obviously hadn't wanted to discuss with him, but judging by the amount of cologne the boy had been dosed in, he was off to see his Demon bird. Of course, Xander hadn't neglected to lay down the house rules for the umpteenth time, and claimed that he had knew where everything he owned was and if anything was missing when he got back, dust was going to fly.

As if Spike had any interest in stealing Xander's collection of comics, or would attempt to pawn his Star Trek Collectible Plates.

However, the temptation to open up his Star Wars figurines was wicked strong; there was just something about toys still in their original containers that made a person want to release them from their plastic prisons so that he could play with them. What was the point of buying all those toys anyway, and never opening them? Didn't that defeat the purpose of toys?

Spike shook his head, deciding that his thoughts were starting to veer off into the insane route. He needed Xander walking in on him during one of his hallucinatory lapses like he needed a hole in the chest. He was not going to become a gibbering idiot in front of Xander. He would not inspire pity in the hypocritical git. He did need the Ben and Jerry's he had stashed in the freezer.

Spike sighed as he shoved himself off of the couch and headed towards the fridge. He dug through five different Hungry Man dinners (And really, did Xander really need a pound of food at one shot? Soon, he wouldn't even need the huge, work-out suit to earn the name Puffy Xander,) and scoffed when he saw the pint of fat-free frozen yogurt (Which was a throw-back from the Anya-era, no doubt,) and then his fingers closed around his prize.

Spike grabbed a spoon before heading back to the couch to indulge in a good sulk, (Not brood! Even insane, he would never resort to brooding!) He threw his feet up on top of the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, but then he sighed guiltily as he removed his feet. Rule number forty-five of two hundred and counting had been no boots on the furniture. He grumbled beneath his breath about being six-kinds of a ponce as he took the lid off of his pint of ice cream, and triumphantly reminded himself that rule number one hundred sixty-eight had been no eating on the furniture.

Yeah…he was still a rebel.

Spike closed his eyes in rapture as he popped the spoon full of cold, creamy, fudgy goodness into his mouth. Seriously…those Ben and Jerry chaps were truly the whizzes of the Twentieth century. Screw the combustion engine and flight. Anyone who could combine vanilla and chocolate ice cream with a solid core of fudge were the TRUE geniuses of modern invention.

Spike's eyes shot open when he heard the door open, and he felt a mild flare of panic, thinking that Xander had come home early and would catch him eating on the couch, but he relaxed the tiniest bit when he heard soft, feminine footsteps instead of Harris' normal lumbering-elephant-crashing-through-the-underbrush-and-crushing-hapless-Natives-beneath-his-feet gait.

Spike swiveled his head around, and saw Buffy coming into the living room, smiling wanly at him as she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it across the back of the couch. “Hey,” She greeted, eying him as if she half-expected him to pitch some sort of insane fit right then and there, just because she had walked into the room.

“Hey,” He replied, mild annoyance filtering into his tone as he turned his back to her and turned his attention back to his channel-surfing. He paused when he came to an episode of Saturday Night Live. Oooh…Joe Pesci Show skit…

Buffy frowned when Spike appeared to be ignoring her, and then sighed as she sat down on the couch beside him, glancing at the tv, “Oh! I love this sketch!” Buffy said a little too brightly, and Spike winced slightly at her too-loud voice. She seemed to forget, frequently, that he was a vampire and had excellent hearing. Of course, that was the only instance she ever forgot that he was a vampire.

“Yeah,” Spike agreed half-heartedly, but was hard-pressed to hold back a chuckle when Joe Pesci started beating the actor spoofing Macauley Culkin over the head with a paint can. Soul or not, he still had the urge to beat the child actor into unconsciousness whenever he saw him on television. If you asked him, somebody sold his soul to Satan for movie deals…and hadn't bothered to read the fine-print, which undoubtedly stipulated the movies would be steaming piles of crap that no one in their right mind would pay to see.

Buffy giggled next to him as she watched Joe Pesci inflict some violence against `Jim Carrey,' and he bit back a sigh as he scooped up a generous scoop of ice cream and popped into his mouth. As the show went into a commercial break, Buffy turned her attention to him.

“Listen…I just wanted to come by and say…sorry…for um…jumping you when you were trying to get the rocket launcher from me,” Buffy colored, “And then…uh…chasing after you and threatening to `rip your short little legs off and beat you to death with them.'”

Spike glanced at Buffy sharply, and then looked down at his legs self-consciously, “You didn't say short.”

“I didn't?” Buffy smiled wanly when he shook his head, “Oh…I might've been thinking…uh…the magic jacket was making me all wonky…”

“The jacket…made you think I was short?” Spike asked skeptically, eyeing her, “You realize that I'm not crazy enough to buy that, right?”

“It was worth a try,” Buffy defended herself, and Spike snorted as he turned his attention back to the television, seemingly becoming engrossed in watching a Domino's Pizza commercial. “Anyways…sorry…”

Spike grunted in response, digging his spoon back into his ice cream, and he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see Buffy leaning over, trying to peer into the container. He bit back a sigh as he held the container out towards her, “Want a bite?”

“Oh…no…I was just wondering what flav-is that fudge?” Buffy grabbed the container out of his hand suddenly, and peered at the lettering, “Oh my God…a solid core of fudge?!” She looked inside, “Oh…my God…vanilla and chocolate chips…vanilla and chocolate ice cream and fudge! When did they come out with this?!”

Spike shrugged, looking a little amused by Buffy's over-enthused reaction to a little bit of ice cream. She immediately grabbed the spoon that he had been using and scooped up a conservative amount of ice cream and fudge. She delicately slipped the spoon past her mouth, and thus, her lady-like behavior ended.

“Oh…My…God…” Buffy breathed, and shoved the spoon back into the ice cream and scooped up a huge amount and popped it into her mouth. “Oh crap… I'm going to have to slay Ben and Jerry!” Off of Spike's confused look, she shot him a grin, “If they invented this, they have to be evil. No one good and pure could have come up with this combination.”

“Uhuh,” Spike watched as Buffy downed another heaping spoonful of his secret sulking (Not brooding!) stash, and then became a little dazed as he watched her lick the spoon eagerly, wrapping her tongue around the blunted edges to get at every little bit of fudge that evilly clung to it.

She glanced at him and misunderstanding his stare, guilty looked down at the ice cream, “Oh…sorry, I'm hogging all your ice cream…”

“No problem,” Spike managed to force, deciding that he would definitely be out of his damned mind if he protested about that. “I'll…uh…get another…um…what do you call `em?” He gestured at her hand.

Buffy cocked her head, “A spoon?” She suggested, becoming a little worried about his state of mind. Was he losing his grip on reality or something? He had to be, if he couldn't identify something as simple as a spoon.”

“Yeah, right, spoon,” Spike shot to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen.

Buffy sat up a bit as she watched him slamming through Xander's drawers until he found the one containing the silverware and saw that he had grabbed out a fork. He stared at it for several seconds, uncomprehendingly and then muttered a curse beneath his breath before finding the spoon he had been looking for. Jeez…I wonder what set it off this time.

Spike returned, looking a bit sheepish under Buffy's measuring look, and he took his seat again. He jumped when Buffy practically shoved the carton of ice cream in his face, and he dug his spoon in, hands shaking a tiny bit.

“Spike? Are you okay?” Buffy asked him, “If…if you want me to leave…”

“No!” Spike shook his head, “No…I'm fine…just…uh…” He cast his eyes down, “I'm fine.”

“You sure?” Buffy asked, and shrugged slightly when Spike nodded, “Fine…then gimme!” She grabbed the carton back, grinning as Spike shot her a look.

“Grabby little thing, aren't ya?” He asked rhetorically, but he sounded amused, so, Buffy only favored him with an eye-roll and glanced back at the television as another sketch came on.

Spike was barely touching the ice cream, a little bit too engrossed in watching Buffy eat, even while he was trying his best too look away. He couldn't help it, though. It was a bit like those people who slowed down around a traffic accident. You knew what you were going to see probably wouldn't be too good for the ole mental health, but you did it anyway. He was rubber-necking his way towards an accident, he just knew it. Yet, watching Buffy's little pink tongue flicking over a silver spoon, wrapping around the handle, and then slowly caressing the bowl of the spoon…

Buffy looked towards Spike, startled, when he suddenly grabbed one of the pink, chenille throw pillows off of the couch. Spike laid it across his lap, and leaned forward, faking a sudden interest in what was playing across the TV screen.

Buffy glanced towards the TV again, and frowned, wondering if she should be worried about his sudden attention; he seemed a little too interested in new all-night Kotex with wings. Maybe it had something to do with the blood aspect? Okay, that was kind of ew…but then again, that one time when her `friend' had been visiting she had let him…

Spike straightened when Buffy let out a little moan, and Buffy's eyes widened before she pressed her hand against her forehead, letting out another moan, identical to the first, “Ow…brain freeze,” She covered, and then flushed when Spike's nostrils flared slightly. She hadn't fooled him for a second, she knew; damned vampires and their blood-hound like noses.

To his credit…and her immense surprise, he made no comment, only turned to face the TV again, a troubled look flitting across his face. “Want some warm water?” He asked, but Buffy shook her head, peering down at the ice cream, which was starting to get all gooey and melty.

“Uh…no, I'm fine…I think…I should probably get going…”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, peering at her from the corner of his eyes. She made no move to leave, only swizzled her spoon around in the ice cream and not looking at him. She took another bite, and Spike watched as a little bit of ice cream dripped off the bottom and dropped onto the flesh exposed just above her top. It slid down her skin and disappeared down her top, into no-vampire's-land. Well, actually, very nearly no-vampire's-land. She turned her head at the moment and caught the way he was staring at her chest before he could rip his gaze away.

He closed his eyes, waiting for her to stand up and storm out of the room, possibly after punching him in the nose hard enough to send bone-shards into his brain and turn him into a vegetable. However, after several minutes, he cracked one eye open and then the other when he realized A) Buffy was still there, and B) She hadn't emasculated him, Anyanka-style.

He cautiously looked in her direction to see her watching him very seriously, twirling the spoon in the ice cream. She then lifted it out, and held out the spoon, heaped with the fudge, towards him. Spike frowned in confusion and she sidled up next to him. He slowly opened his mouth as she brushed the cool metal across his lips, wondering what trickery this was as she fed him the bit of ice cream and fudge.

She removed the spoon from his mouth, and then took the one out of his hand and dropped it into the container and set the ice cream aside. She took a deep breath as she looked into his confused and very vulnerable looking face. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too…” Spike replied automatically, and then frowned in bewilderment, “Come again?”

“I. Missed. You.” She repeated, sliding closer with each word, till their knees were brushing together and they were pressed to one another, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. She turned towards him slightly, and lifted a hand to his face, brushing her fingers against the scar in his eyebrow. “I…I was afraid you weren't coming back…”

Great…I'm bloody well hallucinating again…Spike thought, eyes closing and lips parting slightly as Buffy caressed the sharp edges of his face, her warm, fudge-scented breath whispering across his skin. However, even if this was all a trick his mind was playing on him, he certainly didn't want it to end; especially when he felt her lips pressing against his, and her tongue slipping into his mouth.

Spike groaned softly as he wrapped his arms around Buffy's slim waist, the gentleness of her kiss nearly undoing him. He had never shared something this tender with her before, not in all their time together. Always, it had been fierce, devouring hunger that drove them together, their lips fighting it each other, clashing together as if they were entrenched in battle. But this…this was different…sweet, warm…beautiful…

“I wish you were real,” Spike spoke his thoughts aloud, without realizing it, and Buffy broke away from him, staring at him with wide, shining eyes.

“You don't think I'm real?” She asked, sounding hurt, and Spike smiled at her sadly.

“Wish you were,” He replied softly, “But you can't be…the real Buffy would never allow herself to be so…so…tender…with…with a monster…” He cast his eyes down, long lashes sweeping over his azure-sky eyes, his voice sounding choked, “Shouldn't allow herself to be with a monster…”

Buffy didn't reply to that, but she placed her hand against his chest and pressed him down to the couch, knocking the chenille pillow off of his lap, exposing the erection pressing against the tight seam of his jeans.

Spike watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she slowly lifted her shirt over her head, exposing a lacy white bra, and he watched as the muscles of her abdomen drew together and tightened with the movement. She dropped her shirt onto the table, and then took one of his hands and placed it against her left breast. He could feel her heart beating wildly beneath his palm, and he instinctively curled his hand around the soft pillow of flesh, causing her to gasp a little. “Don't I feel real?”

“You always feel real,” Spike answered quietly, kneading her breast gently through her bra.

Buffy swung one of her legs over him in a straddle, and she began to unbutton his long-sleeved, black shirt. She leaned down and kissed each and every scar that covered his stomach and chest, evidence of self-inflicted wounds that had yet to fully heal. Spike closed his eyes, inhaling sharply as she bit one of his flat nipples and worried it with his teeth. He groaned when she suddenly let go and moved forward to whisper in his ear, “Does that feel real?”

Spike hissed as one of her hands suddenly enclosed around the bulge in his jeans, “Yeesssss…” He hissed out, and Buffy smiled as she straightened, still straddling him.

“Good,” She started to slide Spike's shirt down his arms, and he sat up to help her, looking up at her through lowered lashes. There was still a sadness in them she longed to erase, and knew that he still thought she wasn't real.

As Spike's shirt was discarded, she caught his chin in her hand and tilted his face up so that she could look down into it, “So beautiful…” She whispered, “Even so shattered, you're beautiful…”

Spike's eyes fluttered closed as she pressed another sweet kiss to his lips, but they opened again when she slid down his body. He watched as she undid the buttons on his jeans, and she looked up when he suddenly grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

“Please…don't…” He pleaded, the almost fearful tone of his voice nearly breaking her heart. “Please…it'll kill me if this isn't real…”

She smiled at him reassuringly as she freed her hands from his, and folded his arms across his stomach, “Shhh…it's all right, Spike,” She soothed, and went back to unbuttoning his pants.

He was trembling as she gently freed him, and then drew his jeans down his legs. She removed his boots and dropped them beside the couch, and then deposited the pants on top of them when she had them all the way off.

Spike closed his eyes with a shuddering breath as Buffy moved back up his body; she closed her small hand around his hard shaft, and began to pump it as she watched the myriad of emotions flicker across his face. Fear, uncertainty, helplessness, and then, finally, shocked pleasure as she slipped her lips around the bulbous head of his penis.

Spike's eyes shot open as the moist cavern of her mouth engulfed him, and he lifted his head, watching as Buffy's blonde head bobbed over his lap. She relaxed her throat muscles as she swallowed him down nearly to the base, and Spike moaned loudly as she sucked hard as she moved upwards, her cheeks sinking inward.

“Please, God, please…don't stop…please…oh, luv…Buffy…” He gibbered as he arched his hips off of the couch, head falling back as she pleasured him; his arms unfolded from his stomach, hands finding their way into her hair, soft strands tickling his fingers.

Buffy could already feel him tensing, and knew he was already so very close to the edge. It caused a flare of pride to rise up inside of her; she had barely started, and already, he was ready to cum. She pressed one of her hands against his inner thighs, kneading the strong, hard muscle knotted there, the other hand coming up to cup and fondle his heavy balls. Spike let out a strangled cry as she sucked all the way up to the top of his cock and worked her tongue around the sensitive head. He thrust into her and cool, creamy fluid filled her mouth as she swallowed convulsively, drinking him down.

His softening dick slipped past her lips as she straightened, and she stared down at him from slightly hooded eyes, looking very cat-having-eaten-the-canary-and-drank-down-all-the-cream like as she slowly licked her lips, having his full attention as she did so.

She felt his cock swell once more, pressing against her stomach as she leaned forward and kissed him again, impassioned, but gentle.

She sipped from his lips as if he were the finest champagne, something savored, to roll about the tongue and taste the every single, tiny nuance of his vintage. The combination of his salty cum, the sweet flavor of fudge and an engaging taste that was uniquely Buffy made Spike sit up, pressing himself closer to her half-clad body, wanting to feel and taste everything that made up his Slayer.

“Do I taste real?” Buffy asked, not expecting an answer; she shifted her position as he sat up, so that she remained straddling his lap, wearing only her bra and long, leather skirt. Spike's hands brushed along her sides, and he glanced down when he felt the cool leather, and she smiled when she saw the look on his surprised look on his face when he recognized it. It was the same one she had worn their first night together, and though it was torn in a few noticeable places, she had worn it again.

“Buffy…?”

“Shhh…” She brushed her lips against his, and reached behind her to unclasp her bra and drop it beside them. She then guided Spike's hand down to the long zipper on the back of her skirt, and he slowly slid it down, eyes riveted to her face, as if still unable to believe that this was truly happening to him.

Beneath the skirt, she was wearing nothing, and she longed to hear him make some lewd comment about her running around without her knickers. None was forthcoming. He only slid his fingers down her bare backside, fingertips tickling her skin.

She tilted his head up with her hands as she positioned herself with his help, and she stared down into his face, letting out a small moan as she sank down. She watched as a look of wonder, awe…and gratitude flashed across his face before his eyes fluttered closed. It was the same look that he had on his face when they had coupled, and it nearly made her heartbreak again. He exhibited the same emotions he had when he had been without his soul, and it made her wonder, truly, what the significance of it truly was. If this creature could love her the same, feel the same wonder with or without the soul, what did that say about every one of her previous preconceptions?

“I missed you,” She whispered as she slowly began to ride him, her hands falling to his shoulders as his expressive eyes opened once more to look up at her. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders; usually, it was a soft gold, but was now whiter then was her usual style, contrasting with her tanned skin.

Spike's lips parted as his sweet Goddess rose over him, her hazel eyes boring into his, arresting his gaze. Her fingertips ghosted across his face, throat and shoulders, dug into his slicked-back hair, before returning to his face, as if they were unable to keep still. There were in direct opposition to the rest of her body's movements, swift and fleeting touches, even while she slowly fucked (made love…he thought in his mind with shocked clarity…she's making love to me…) him.

“I thought I hated you,” She told him, making sure his gaze never left hers, “Tried to convince myself I was supposed to hate you…but I couldn't. All I could think about was that you might never come back…that I would never see you again, and it was all my fault…”

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but she silenced him by pressing her fingers across his swollen lips. She returned her hand to his shoulders, tossing her hair with a small gasp as she sank down onto him once more, his cock filling her completely, in a way she hadn't known she could be filled. Slowly lowering herself up and down the hard flesh allowed her to feel each and every inch of him, not at all the fast, furious and sometimes brutal stokes she had forced him into before.

“I had you,” She continued, swallowing heavily, “That's what killed me…each and every night that I laid down in bed alone. I had you, and you were mine…but I took you for granted…thought that you would stick around and take whatever I tossed at you, and keep your mouth shut. That I could keep you in the background, not a part of my life, and only letting you in when I needed help, or when I wanted to find some release. I used you and…then I abused you in every way I could think of…”

Spike closed his eyes as a flood of tears trailed down his cheeks, wondering what sort of phantom this was. Even while she brought him burning rapture and pleasure, she reminded him of things that crushed his spirit and made his heart ache in his still chest.

He felt Buffy's lips against his face, and realized that she was lapping up his tears, drinking them down, as she had drunk down his dead seed. “Look at me,” She whispered against his cheeks.

He opened his eyes unquestioningly; and wasn't he an obedient dog? Ready to roll onto his back and bare his stomach at the slightest command, an inhuman but willing slave at her beck and call. He was a pathetic excuse for a being, in either human or vampire standards.

“I was wrong,” She whispered, her inner muscles clenching around him, and drawing a gasp past his full lips, “I was wrong and I was stupid and every day you were gone, it was killing me…I thought being with you was killing me…but when you were gone, I found out what dying slowly was really like…”

“I'm sorry,” He murmured, those damned tears still coursing down his cheeks. He had hurt her, and yet she showed him tenderness, and…not love…she couldn't love him. He was a monster, a beast, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he had the voices of thousands telling him so; the majority ruled.

“Shh…don't be sorry…be here,” She closed her eyes as Spike's hand drifted between their bodies, and he fingered her clit, pressing the hardened button with his thumb. She tightened her grip on his shoulders, nails pressing into his flesh, but not with enough force to pierce his skin. “Stay here…with me…always…”

“Always,” Spike promised softly, “Always and forever…never leave you again…”

“Not even if I ask,” Buffy said fiercely, sudden fire coming to her eyes, “No matter what I say…or how big a bitch I'm being that day…don't ever leave me again!” Her muscles clenched around him with punishing force, and Spike gasped and moaned and shook as he came deep inside her. She pressed her forehead against his as she followed with soft gasps and trembling limps forcing his eyes to stare into her liquid ones.

“Don't ever leave me…” She pleaded with him, tears dripping off of her lashes, “Please…I'm so sorry…so so sorry…” She pressed a flutter of kisses across his face when he didn't answer her right away, “Please…please promise me…I love you…please…please…”

Spike jerked his head back, his eyes wide with surprise, “Wh-what?” He croaked in disbelieve. He couldn't…no, it was damned impossible…that he had heard what he had thought he heard. “Yo-you-you…?”

“I love you,” Buffy repeated softly, and then hid her face in his bare throat, closing her eyes tightly as his arms encircled her tentatively, as if he was afraid she would disappear in a poof of smoke if he held her just a fraction too tightly. Her tears wetted his throat, making the skin slick, and she sniffled, slipping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. “I tried not too…all while you were gone…I tried not to love you…but I…I couldn't not…”

Spike worked that word riddle through his head, and he smiled slowly as he turned his head slightly, inhaling the scent of her hair and skin, and their mingled musk.

The irony of the situation struck him, of course. She had loved him before he had returned with the soul. It was like a supremely fucked-up version of `The Gift of the Magi.' Except their gifts were a soul and a heart, instead of watch chain and hair comb.

“I love you,” Spike knew his voice trembled in his throat, but he couldn't find the strength to care; he had finally found his way home after a journey that had lasted for what felt like an eternity...and it had been an exhausting one at that. “And…I promise never to leave you again…” He smiled slightly, “No matter how royal a bitch you're being.” Buffy laughed weakly, and he tightened his grip on her as he closed his eyes.

“I promise,” He repeated softly.

“Yo! Deadboy!” Spike's eyes flew open, and he tilted his head up to see Xander glaring down at him. Spike immediately sat up, preparing an excuse for why, exactly, Buffy was draped over him naked, but then froze when he saw he was fully clothed and completely alone.

“What did I say about falling asleep with the TV on?!” Xander snapped peevishly, either not noticing, or not caring about the crushed and dejected look on the vampire's face. “I have to pay for that power, you know.”

“Sorry,” Spike whispered, swinging his legs off of the couch. He lowered his head as Xander bitched ill-naturedly; apparently, his attempt at reconciliation with Anya hadn't gone well and he was taking it out on Spike.

Spike couldn't find the spirit to care.

Fuckin' dream…it was all a fuckin' dream, He thought bitterly as he bent over his knees, pressing his hands to either side of his head to keep from screaming in emotional agony. Never before had the urge to walk out into sunlight been so strong before, even after he had first gotten the soul. He had everything he could have wanted offered to him on a silver platter, Buffy's love and forgiveness, and he had been given the tiniest of nibbles, a preview of what life could have been like for him. It had been the sweetest ambrosia, and Fate, the cruel bitch, had yanked it back with a vicious laugh at his expense.

“…and I said NO eating on the goddamned furniture, Spike!” Xander's voice intruded on his misery, and he gritted his teeth together, resisting the urge to lash out at that unstoppable force that was Xander's mouth.

“Sorry,” Spike muttered with a clenched jaw, and he straightened, reaching out to grab the ice cream container that was filled with melted, no longer any good ice cream.

He froze suddenly, staring at the two spoons sticking out of the container.

“Are you just deaf or stupid?! Oh, wait, that's right, you're all `insane,',” Xander mimed air quotes over the word `insane.' “That's not excuse for not following my rules…”

Spike tuned Xander out and after several minutes of non-stop ranting, Xander realized he wasn't getting through to his audience. Spike was staring at an container of ice cream like it contained all the answers in the world, and he let out a disgusted snort. “Stupid, insane vampires,” Xander muttered beneath his breath before stalking towards his bedroom, leaving Spike alone, finally.

Spike reached out and touched both spoons as soon as Xander was gone, half-expecting one of them to disappear as soon as he touched them, but they were as solid as he was. Spike sat back against the couch, confused, and wondering if he had really gone more insane then usual, even going as far as to provide props for his hallucinations.

He shook his head as he stood up and tossed the container of melted ice cream into the trash and the spoons in the sink before returning to the couch.

He sat down and leaned over to remove his boots, and blinked when he saw they were already off. He shook his head and then laid back against the couch, and closed his eyes, praying that sleep wouldn't bring dreams, but had little hope that anyone upstairs was listening to a creature like him.

He sighed heavily as he rolled over onto his side, and then frowned when something poked him from between the couch cushions. He sat up and dug between the cushions.

When he brought up his hand, a lacy, white bra was dangling from his fingers.