Disclaimer: All the vampires belong to Joss Whedon.
Thank you again, oh great reviewers!
 
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Buffy groaned as the alarm clock woke her the next morning. What sort of sadist schedules a class for eight o’clock on a Saturday? Spike rolled over and opened his eyes. “Last day of this, love?”
 
“Yes, thank God. Then we’ve got the inspector coming this afternoon.”
 
“I’ll do my best to get stuff tidied up before you come home,” Spike said, planting kisses down her arm.
 
“Do you mind hauling the weapons chest down to the basement? If we stick it in with the pile of boxes in the corner it won’t be so conspicuous. Don’t really need them asking why I have an inordinate number of sharp pointy things.”
 
“Will do love,” Spike replied. He gave her one last kiss, then got up to join her in the shower. There was no time for anything exciting, but they enjoyed the sensation of each other’s hands soaping up their naked bodies. With regret, Buffy turned off the shower after rinsing her hair, and they toweled off.
 
“Spike?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“How do you bleach your hair, without being able to see it?” Buffy was in the process of dealing with her own snarls and tangles.
 
“Demon barber I know does it for me. I can do it myself, but I worry about missing spots in the back.” Spike ran a comb through his blond curls and then rummaged under the sink for his hair gel.
 
“What is it with you vampires and the hair gel?” Buffy teased.
 
“Gotta look my best to attract my prey,” Spike growled and nibbled at her neck. Buffy giggled, swatted him, then dashed out of the bathroom to finish getting dressed. Spike found himself grinning like a madman. But after a moment the demon in his mind popped up with only a matter of time, mate. You’ll revert to type, and it’ll be all over. His grin faded. He leaned heavily on the sink for a moment. It was true – the hunger never really went away. Last night he had drunk from Buffy again while she rode him, sitting on his lap all wrapped around him like a vine. It had been utterly intoxicating, but he had had to make a Herculean effort to stop from taking too much. It had definitely helped heal the chest wound. But he knew it was a slippery slope. She was as much of an addiction as whiskey or cigarettes, and his demon craved her, craved the sweet coppery tang of her, the same way the man craved the warm moist folds of her sex.
 
He took a deep breath and straightened up, finishing his hair and shaking off his misgivings. I love her. I’ll not hurt her. If it means I never drink from her again, so be it. With new resolve, he went to find his own clothes and joined Buffy in the kitchen.
 
Buffy had made two omelets, and had poured a mug of blood for Spike. “Didn’t know you knew how to make these, Slayer,” he commented as he sat down and dug in.
 
“I picked up the occasional domestic skill in between killing things in the night,” Buffy responded as she sat down to her breakfast.
 
“What’s the schedule of the day?” Spike asked.
 
“I got this class from eight until noon,” said Buffy around a mouthful of omelet. “The home inspection thingy is at around two or so.”
 
“I’ll haul those weapons downstairs for you and make sure all my stuff is stashed,” Spike offered.
 
“Thanks, babe,” Buffy said. Spike smiled at the term of endearment. They made short work of breakfast and cleared their places. “I’m off to the land of the unfit mothers,” said Buffy. She gave Spike a long kiss goodbye, and then she was off.
 
Bloody domesticated, that’s what you are, he thought as he did the dishes. His Big Bad ego was starting to protest a bit at the arrangement – William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, doing the Slayer’s household chores. But then he thought about what she looked like, lying beneath him, right before she came. Loveliest thing in all the world, that, he thought. Admit it, William the Bloody, you’ll do damn near anything to stay in her bed. It was true. She had him, literally and figuratively, by the short hairs. Best enjoy it then, he resolved.
 
He went through the house, scooping up odd stakes and crossbows and dumping them all in the weapons chest. He hefted it easily and put it in the basement, piling some boxes on top of it. They could get to it reasonably quickly in an emergency, but it wasn’t going to call attention to itself. Spike looked around the basement thoughtfully. Could probably recreate a lot of the training room at the Magic Box down here. Give the Slayer a place to work out. He tucked that idea away for future use.
 
Going back upstairs, he looked around for other out of place or suspicious things. Joyce had had a small liquor cabinet. There were a few bottles of wine, and a mostly empty bottle of scotch. He drained the scotch, enjoying it thoroughly before stuffing the empty bottle in the bottom of the trash. Not like Buffy would ever drink it. Besides, I’ve been on the wagon since she got back.
 
Up in Buffy’s room he changed the sheets and tidied up all the dirty laundry. There was no sign of his presence that he could see. He did wish he could open the window – to his vampire senses it was very, very obvious that someone had had lots of sex in this room recently. But perhaps it wasn’t so obvious to people. Have to ask the Slayer.
 
After throwing the sheets in the wash, he got the remaining blood out of the fridge and drank it for a midmorning snack. Probably not the best thing to have in the fridge when the inspectors come. He cleaned up after himself, and then spent the next couple hours listening to the radio while he did this and that around the house.
 
Buffy got home shortly before one, bearing more groceries. “I figured in case they open the fridge, it should be obvious that I’m not starving anyone around here.” Spike helped her get things put away, and then pulled her into an embrace.
 
“You need to relax, pet,” he said firmly. “Everything is going to be fine. Dawn’ll be back home before you know it.”
 
“Just having one of those little panic moments again,” she sighed. “Getting really tired of it. They pass quickly enough, but I feel like I can’t breathe, or like I’m going to explode.”
 
Spike kissed her tenderly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, love. Not like there’s a manual on how to come back from beyond the grave. You’re doing as well as could be expected.”
 
“Thanks, Spike,” she said. Then kissing him once more, she looked around the kitchen. “Is everything put away you think?” she asked as she started wandering around the house. Her jaw dropped as she looked around. The house was immaculate. Everything was arranged like a magazine photo or something. She went upstairs and looked all over in awe. “Is this my house? Did I fall into some alternate dimension?”
 
Spike laughed, “Don’t go expecting this every day, Slayer. This was a one-time only, ‘Get Nibblet Back’ special event. I’m the Slayer of Slayers, not a bloody maid.”
 
“Well, you could be one of those guys who cleans in the nude…” Buffy’s response was interrupted by the doorbell. Her eyes got wide. “Shit! They’re here early! You need to hide somewhere…”
 
Spike shushed her. “Go answer the door. I’ll make myself scarce, don’t worry.”
 
Fighting back the panic, Buffy nodded and went downstairs to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to find Ms. Davis and a bespectacled man on the porch. “Hello Ms. Davis, won’t you come in?” she asked politely, trying to keep her voice steady.
 
“Thank you Ms. Summers. This is my colleague Mr. Morton,” said Ms. Davis. Buffy shook his hand firmly. “Shall we get started?”
 
“Sure,” Buffy replied. “What would you like to see?”
 
“Well, I always like to start at the top and work my way down,” said Mr. Morton amiably. “Is that alright?”
 
“Umm… of course!” said Buffy brightly. Hope Spike manages to hide somewhere.
 
Spike heard the inspector’s comment and dashed into the bathroom, slipping behind the door. He heard Buffy say, “This is Dawn’s room here.” He peered out and noticed them following her into Dawn’s bedroom. He slipped out and silently dashed down the hall and crept down the stairs. Still using all of his supernatural stealth, he quietly eased the basement door open and disappeared downstairs, figuring that the basement would be low on their list of places to inspect.
 
Buffy hid her nervousness as best as she could as she led the inspectors next into what had been the witches’ room. “Who sleeps here?” asked Ms. Davis.
 
“This had been where my friends were staying,” Buffy admitted. “But they’re not here anymore – I asked them to move out.”
 
Mr. Morton looked doubtful. But he opened the wardrobe and found it mostly empty, and peered in the closet and found it contained only a long leather coat. “Good place for extra storage now, eh?” he said amiably, satisfied that no one else was actually living here.
 
Spike’s duster! Glad they didn’t think anything of it. Buffy clenched her fists trying to keep the panic attack at bay. She took another deep breath. ”My room is over here,” she offered, leading them across the hall.
 
They looked around, and Ms. Davis noticed her collection of crosses hanging on the jewelry tree on her dresser. “I didn’t know you were religious,” she remarked.
 
“I… try to keep an open mind about faith,” she said noncommittally.
 
They proceeded downstairs to the first floor, where the inspectors were pleased to find the tidy, well stocked kitchen and the attractive living room and dining room. Buffy, on her part, was a bit perplexed about where Spike had gotten to, but then she noticed that the basement door was slightly ajar. Leave it to the crypt dweller to hide down there.
 
Ms. Davis was obviously pleased. “You’ve really turned things around, Ms. Summers. I am amazed at how quickly you responded to our concerns.”
 
“I just want my sister back,” Buffy said honestly. “We’re all the family we’ve got, and I really miss her.”
 
“Well, I believe I’m satisfied. Mr. Morton?” Ms. Davis inquired of her co-worker.
 
“What’s through this door?” he asked, indicating the door to the basement.
 
“That’s the basement. We mostly use it for storage.” For example, right now I am storing a vampire so could you please just not go down there?
 
“Mind if I just take a peek?”
 
Buffy’s heart sank. “Y…Yes of course. It’s pretty dark down there, so watch your step.”
 
Spike heard the entire exchange and looked around for a place to hide. Quickly he dived behind a few boxes in the darkest corner under the stairs, just as the door opened and the light came on. Mr. Morton came down, followed apprehensively by Buffy. The inspector stopped in the middle of the floor and looked around. Apparently he saw nothing more than a washer and dryer, and a lot of boxes, because after a few minutes he followed Buffy back upstairs and shut the door. This game of cat and mouse is getting a little old, mate, Spike fumed silently from his uncomfortable position.
 
Upstairs, Mr. Morton was saying, “It seems you have a very nice home here, and that you have addressed all our concerns. I believe we can both recommend that your sister be returned to you as soon as possible.”
 
“Really?” Buffy exclaimed. “Oh thank you so much. When can she come home?”
 
“I’ll take care of the paperwork tonight – I have to go in to the office for something else anyway,” said Ms. Davis. “She can come home tomorrow afternoon if everything goes smoothly.”
 
“Thank you so much!” cried Buffy, hugging the social worker impulsively. Ms. Davis smiled. She found that she rather liked Buffy, first impressions aside. She seems a totally different person than when we met that first day.
 
The two inspectors said goodbye and Buffy stood at the front door and waved until they drove away. She was shutting the door and was about to call for Spike when she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. She whirled to find Spike right behind her, snatching her up for a hug. “You did it, Slayer!” he said happily, swinging her about. “I know you were nervous, but you kept it together.”
 
“She’ll be back tomorrow!” Buffy said happily, with a few tears of joy running down her cheeks. “Oh Spike, thank you so much for everything you did.”
 
“Love you, Buffy.” Spike felt he could never tire of saying that.
 
“Love you too.” Buffy kissed him deeply and then twirled around to flop on the couch. “Whew! I’m exhausted just from thinking about that all day.”
 
“So now what are you going to do?” Spike asked, throwing himself on the couch beside her.
 
“Hmmm,” said Buffy, eyeing the vampire. “I think I’ll do… you.” With an ear to ear grin, she tackled him onto the couch.
 
TBC