DISCLAIMER:
The Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel characters are the property of Mutant
Enemy, Joss Whedon, Lazy Dave, Kuzui,
and Fox Studios. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and
are copyright (c) 2017 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Misery
Loves Company
by
Djinn
The
night was neither dark nor stormy, but felt like it should have been both. Houston
had the irrepressible humid heat of a swamp, and the summer sun seemed
reluctant to set. Giles sat in the rented apartment he'd taken out for himself
and whichever slayers happened to cycle into town, and threw back tequila he'd
only meant to sip.
They'd
lost another girl. Every death weighed on him.
He
heard a key in the door, pushed the shot glass away, behind a book and a menu
for Chinese take-out. Buffy walked in, her black tank was covered with dust and
she had a nasty bruise on her chin.
"You
all right?"
She
tried to brush the vamp-dust off her shirt, then gave up. "See, this is
why we can't have nice things." Her smile was hollow, her eyes flat
and...not cold, exactly, but the light he was so used to seeing was absent. She
swallowed hard and said, "You heard about Dahlia?"
He
nodded.
"Willow
call you?"
He
nodded again.
She
didn't meet his eyes, but she walked toward him, reaching into his not-so-great
hiding place and pulling out the glass. "Empty."
He
laughed softly. "I'm afraid so."
"That
can be remedied." She held the glass out and he reached behind him for the
tequila.
Meeting
her eyes, he asked softly, "Are you sure?"
"I
told her she'd be great before I put her on the plane and sent her out to
die." She shook the glass at him. "Fill it the hell up."
He
did as she asked and she threw back the drink much the same way he had.
"I'm
sorry, Buffy."
"Me,
too." She surprised him, leaning in, a half-embrace, her free hand going
around his neck as she buried her face in his sweater. "I hate this,
Giles."
"I
know. I do, too." He pressed his cheek against her and felt the silken
softness of her hair, her warmth. She was alive and every day she went out
hunting he worried he would not be able to say that by the end of the night.
And
yet every time she came back. The
Slayer, not just a slayer.
She
let him go. "Good night."
"Good
night, Buffy." He watched her until she disappeared into one of the
bedrooms.
##
He
woke in the hospital. Buffy was watching him, curled up in an armchair she'd
probably pulled next to the bed. There was a chair-sized empty space near the
window, and he could imagine the nurses trying to get her to put it back, to
use the hard plastic chair that was so much more portable.
He
laughed imagining her answer, then a shock of pain ran through him. "Oh,
bloody hell."
"Yeah,
I've been stabbed by my own stake, too. Hurts like hell. Laughing makes it
worse."
"Now,
you tell me."
She
let out a breath, audible and shaky, and he studied her as much as he could
given the IV tubes that snaked down between them.
"Buffy,Ó
he said, trying to put some of the watcher back into his voice, Òhave you
slept?"
"I'll
sleep when I'm dead."
"Not
funny."
She
gave him a smile he couldn't imagine her younger self being capable of. Hard
and tired and just a little bit mean. "It never is, is it?" She stood
and leaned over him. "I thought I was going to lose you. You bled a
lot."
"I'm
too stuffy to die. Heaven won't have me."
She
laughed softly. "They took me. I'm sure they'll let you in, too." Then
her expression changed, the darker one that often haunted her taking over. "Or
maybe neither of us can get in now. Too much blood on our hands."
"Who
died now?"
"You,
almost."
He
gave her his best "I'm waiting and I shan't be put off" look.
She
sighed. "Tamika. In Cleveland. Faith said she went down fighting." A
laugh, then another, slightly hysterical. "Don't we all? Go down fighting?
Wouldn't one of us love our headstone to say, 'She died in her bed'?"
He
reached for her hand, felt the pull of the IV, and grimaced.
"Giles,
don't. If you pull that out, I'll have to call the nurse and she pretty much
hates me."
"You
need to sleep. Go home."
"Not
a chance." She laced her fingers with his gently, and he closed his eyes
at the contact.
"Then
sleep in the chair. But sleep you will or I'll call Dawn."
"Ooh,
pulling out the big guns." She didn't let go of his hand, even squeezed it
a little. "I didn't really like Tamika. Does that make me bad? That I'm
glad it wasn't Rona or Vi?"
"That
makes you human. An exhausted human. Sleep."
"Okay."
She let go of him and sat back in the chair.
He
watched her until she fell asleep, then he let himself relax and drift, the
pain meds making him feel safe and warm: a false sense of security, he knew,
but a nice break, nonetheless.
##
Giles
was dreaming. He knew it, which made it worse. It was the same dream heÕd had
for years. Buffy. On the tower. Her swan dive to eternity.
Her body crumpled on the ground.
His
failure.
ÒNo,Ó
he said to the dream, to try to control it the way heÕd read about but had never
managed to pull off.
This
time, though, it worked. This time BuffyÕs swan dive ended differently.
She didnÕt plummet; she floated.
ÒWhat
now, Giles?Ó Her smile was the one he loved most. The sweet one that he thought
was only for him.
Because
he was her father.
Well, like a father.
Or
more an authority figure. Oh, hell, itÕd been years since heÕd been that.
In
his dream, she was laughing and he realized they were back in his old apartment
in Sunnydale. It was like the dream the first slayer had brought. The apartment
was empty except for the chair Buffy was sitting in—and the bed
upstairs—as he waved a pocket watch in front of her. But this Buffy was
no child. This Buffy stood and took the pocket watch away from him. ÒDonÕt you
think this is a little old fashioned?Ó
ÒIs
it?Ó
ÒItÕs
not the way women and men have behaved since the beginning.Ó She moved closer,
her expression changing. ÒMen and women,
Giles. Not men and little girls.Ó
And then she kissed him.
His
phone going off jarred him out of sleep. He reached for it, saw it was Willow,
and took a steadying breath before answering. ÒWillow? Is everything all
right?Ó
ÒGiles,
I donÕt only call when things are bad.Ó
ÒOh,
so things arenÕt bad?Ó
ÒNo,
they are. But I donÕt always call when they are. But I need Buffy and sheÕs not
answering her phone.Ó
ÒIt
fell into a fountain last night.Ó
Willow
laughed. ÒWhere are you?Ó
ÒRome.Ó
ÒOooh, have you met the Immortal yet? HeÕs soooo handsome.Ó WillowÕs voice was the teasing one that
always made him smile. ÒNot that IÕd notice, of course.Ó
ÒIÕve
not had the pleasure. Buffy doesnÕt seem keen on tracking him down.Ó
ÒYeah,
bad break-up.Ó
HeÕd
wondered about that. Buffy hadnÕt actually seemed too broken up over the chap,
and Giles felt like heÕd seen her moods around ex beaux enough to know what she
looked like when sheÕd been rejected.
HeÕd
always assumed that sheÕd done the ending. From what little heÕd been able to
glean from Andrew, the Immortal had been a bit of a control freak—and
controlling Buffy was not something a sane man tried to do.
He
knocked on BuffyÕs half-open door, then saw she was outside on the balcony,
doing some sort of yoga. She looked up and he tapped the phone, their universal
signal for Òthis oneÕs for you.Ó
She
got up—gracefully, he couldnÕt help notice. But then it was his job to
notice. Agility and flexibility were part of a slayerÕs arsenal. He was
responsible for ensuring she was fully trained. It was his sacred duty to look
for form breaks and correct—oh bloody hell, he was watching her in a way
the council would have very much frowned upon.
ÒItÕs
Willow,Ó he said, handing her the phone as she came inside.
ÒThanks.Ó
She stretched and he tried not to notice the way her body curved. She was still
slim, but she was a woman now.
God
help him—he should not be looking at her like this. He turned and fled
back into his room, and sat on the bed, trying to put thoughts of Buffy out of
his head.
A
little while later, Buffy came back in and handed him his phone. ÒI have to go
to New York.Ó
ÒYes?
All right. Safe trip.Ó He could barely meet her eyes. Thank God WillowÕs call
had come when it did—he hoped the dream would have stopped there.
With a kiss.
HeÕd been kissing Buffy.
What
was wrong with him?
ÒAre
you okay?Ó She crawled onto the bed.
He
backed up so fast his elbow hit the wooden headboard hard enough that he
winced. ÒYes. Fine.Ó He slid off the bed and began to pace. ÒWillow asked about
the Immortal.Ó
ÒOkay,
thatÕs random.Ó She studied him. ÒWhat the hell is wrong with you?Ó
Oh,
such an excellent question. He stopped pacing. ÒI never met him. Willow was flippant
about him and I didnÕt ÔgetÕ the joke because, well, I never met him.Ó WouldnÕt
he have met the bloke if BuffyÕd been serious about
him? SheÕd always made it a point to bring her boyfriends around.
Well,
except Spike, of course. Who was alive again, if Andrew was to be believed—something
he had not told Buffy yet, although Andrew might have. The boy marched to his
own drum and keeping Giles in the loop often seemed a bridge too far.
ÒThe
immortal. Meh. You didnÕt miss much.Ó She walked toward him and made a face as
he backed up the same amount of space. ÒWhat is your problem, Giles?Ó
She
looked hurt that he was wouldnÕt answer, that he was keeping his distance, and
he realized how tactile she was with him. He normally let her in. That was
probably all this was—all the dream was.
It
wasnÕt that he was attracted to this girl he was practically a father to.
He
stepped forward and patted her on the shoulder. It came off frightfully
awkward.
ÒReally?Ó
She pulled him into her normal half hug, her hand snaking up to rest on the
skin under his collar. ÒDonÕt get killed before I figure out whatÕs making you
out-weird Andrew.Ó
ÒThatÕs
low.Ó
She
laughed, the sound breathy in his ear. ÒDo you want me to come back here when
IÕm done in New York?Ó
ÒYes.Ó
It was out before he could think better of it. ÒI mean, if thatÕs the best
thing.Ó
She
backed away and seemed to be studying him. ÒI need a home base. DawnÕs safely
away at school. The rest of the gang have their places pretty much settled. I
need a home base.Ó
ÒAnd
youÕd like it to be Rome?Ó Was it because of the Immortal? Had Buffy never
gotten over him?
ÒNo,
dipshit, I want it to be with you, and youÕre in Rome, ergo...Ó She rolled her
eyes and walked out.
She
wanted to be with him? But...as what?
She
was gone before he could ask. To be precise, she was gone before he could work
up the courage to ask.
##
ÒKeep
your guard up, Annie.Ó Giles winced as one of his newest slayers missed on a
high kick. Fortunately the vampire she was fighting was newly turned and not
much of a fighter.
Giles
would never put her up against a vampire he thought would hurt her.
But
then he saw the vampire grab the stake Annie was holding too far in front of
her. He brandished it like a dagger and Annie backed up. Oh, bollocks, just the
luck to get some sort of knife fighter when he thought heÕd picked a nice, safe
one.
Giles
waded into the fight, knocking the vampire back, pummeling him more than was strictly
necessary.
It
kept him from having to beat himself up. For missing Buffy. For missing
Buffy...that way.
ÒWell,
someoneÕs inner Ripper is showing.Ó Her
voice, making him smile, making him stop punching and grab the stake and shove
it into the vampireÕs heart.
He
turned as the thing exploded into dust, and saw Buffy pull Annie into a quick
hug.
ÒIÕm
Buffy. You may have heard of me. Welcome to the life of a chosen one, blah,
blah. Listen to Giles, blah, blah. DonÕt however beat the shit out of vamps for
fun like he just did. Kill quick, move on, live to fight another day.Ó
Annie was nodding earnestly. Giles thought she would take notes if she had
anything to write with.
ÒYou
hungry? They served nothing on the plane that even resembled food. And I say
that after serving time at the Doublemeat Palace.Ó
ÒI
love that place.Ó AnnieÕs eyes shone.
ÒYou
wonÕt when I get done telling you about it.Ó Buffy shot a silly look at Giles,
and he grinned back.
Good
God, he was happy to see her. Too happy. Bad happy. Bad, bad happy.
Then
she took his hand as they walked, the gesture so natural he decided she was
doing it as if he was her father. The older gentleman who might need a hand
after his robust walloping of the undead menace. He mustnÕt think her holding
his hand was in any way a romantic thing.
Annie,
pointed at a place with a big ÒPizzaÓ sign. ÒCan we eat there?Ó
ÒSome
other day. Mom and Dad want pasta.Ó Her hand tightened on his. ÒAt MorengianoÕs.Ó Their favorite place.
Mom
and Dad? That lovely cafŽ? Was she torturing him?
No,
of course not. They ate there all the time, and sheÕd joked this way before,
hadnÕt she? Early on, when they had so many slayers. After Spike had stopped
being a constant problem between them. Before the round of losses, the non-stop
deaths. Before they stopped joking and started using whatever bottle was handy
to numb the pain.
ÒAre
you all right, Buffy?Ó
She
smiled. ÒWe didnÕt lose anyone in New York. We beat the big—well,
medium—bad, and Willow found some accounts that once were Sunnydale Mayoral
funds but now are liberated.Ó She let go of his hand to do a bit of an
impromptu cheer. ÒWe have money, Giles. Money to finance homes that arenÕt
cheap and gross for our slayers. For us here.Ó
Had
she been worrying about money this whole time? She hadnÕt said a thing to him. He
frowned. ÒI didnÕt realize we were low on funds.Ó
ÒYou
have enough to worry about. Willow was on it.Ó
ÒAnd
you didnÕt tell me.Ó So much for Mom and Dad.
ÒActually,
she didnÕt tell me. Not until she knew for sure the money was really the
MayorÕs and stealing it would be more like diverting bad to good. She just told
me and now IÕm telling you.Ó She stopped. ÒArenÕt you happy?Ó
ÒOf
course.Ó He realized that Annie was watching them with more than a little
interest. ÒLittle pitchers...Ó
ÒHold
weak margaritas?Ó Of course she didnÕt get it. But then she laughed as she
motioned Annie to walk on. ÒLittle pitchers hear way too much. Got it. No
airing the financial underwear in front of the children.Ó
Oh,
of course. There she went again with the parental theme. He closed his eyes.
The
universe definitely had a sense of whimsy, and it seemed to be a mean one.
##
He
stepped through the door, laden down with groceries and a bunch of narcissus
heÕd bought for no apparent reason. Buffy was at the table, not even trying to
hide her rather full glass and the bottle of scotch. She looked up at him,
seemed to take in the flowers, and her expression didnÕt change as she said,
ÒPretty.Ó Then she went back to her study of the ice in her glass.
He
put the groceries away quickly, stuck the flowers in the tallest water glass he
could find because they didnÕt have a vase, then carried them out and put them
on the table, pushed to the side a bit, so he could see her expression from
across the table.
Without
asking, she pulled out another glass from their latest hiding place, and poured
him a less generous amount.
ÒWhat
are we mourning?Ó
ÒWeÕre
not. Or youÕre not, anyway.Ó She took a long sip, and he thought she looked
like sheÕd been crying.
ÒWhatÕs
wrong? Is it Annie?Ó
ÒNo,
itÕs not slayer stuff. ItÕs...itÕs Angel.Ó
ÒIs
he...?Ó
ÒDead? No. Shacking up with a werewolf? Yes.Ó
ÒThat
was not going to be my next question.Ó
She started to laugh. ÒSheÕs blonde—big shock there, right? Really
pretty. He has a type, I guess. Oh, Giles. It shouldnÕt hurt.Ó
ÒBut
it does. And it will. You and he—your relationship was unique and
complicated and much of the time very beautiful.Ó
ÒEven
if he did torture you?Ó
ÒEven
if he did torture me.Ó He reached over and took her hand. ÒBut great loves
often donÕt stay in our lives.Ó
ÒNone
of my loves do.Ó She took a healthy swallow as he attempted to hide any trace
of hurt or disappointment. But he did try to let go of her hand. She held
tight, then turned her hand so they were palm to palm and twined her fingers
with his. ÒAre you going to leave, too? Is that why youÕre acting so crazy? No love
for Buffy.Ó
He
sat frozen for a moment, trying to figure out if heÕd really heard what he
thought he had. By the hurt look she shot him, he realized he had.
ÒI
think this discussion is best held sober.Ó He moved their glasses away, near
the flowers.
ÒLittle
late.Ó
ÒHow
drunk are you?Ó
ÒWhy?Ó
He
tried to make his smile as gentle as he could. ÒBecause if youÕre very drunk,
then IÕm not going to have this conversation with you right now.Ó
ÒWhy,
Giles? Afraid IÕll lose my shit if you reject me?Ó She kicked her chair away
from the table and began to pace. ÒBuffy, surely you know I consider you a
daughter and I would never be able to think of you...Ó
She was talking very loudly and he looked toward the rooms where Annie and the
two newest slayers slept.
ÒTheyÕre
out, Giles. Jesus, do you think IÕd be drinking by myself in the dining room if
they were here?Ó
He
frowned, not sure if she meant that sheÕd be not drinking at all or would have
invited them to join her.
She
rolled her eyes. ÒI wouldnÕt be drinking—or I would, but in my room.Ó It
was uncanny how often she and he were on the same wavelength. She went back to
pacing.
He
watched her. No weaving or wobbling. Her hand hadnÕt been shaking when she held
her glass. Her hand-eye coordination seemed fine when she reached up to run her
fingers through her hair the way she did when she was frustrated.
She
wasnÕt that drunk.
ÒDo
you know why I bought Narcissus?Ó
ÒBecause
after Easter theyÕre wicked cheap?Ó She rolled her eyes again, but it was a
more dramatic gesture than the first one—put on a bit. The way she used
to when heÕd said something stuffy or overly British.
ÒBecause
they remind me of you.Ó He touched the white petal, avoiding the bright yellow
center and the pollen inside it. ÒTheyÕre happy and bright, and when I see
them, I know the cold times are over and the sun will be out.Ó He looked over
at her. ÒWhy do you think IÕd reject you?Ó
ÒYou
bizarre behavior in your bedroom for one. Way to make a girl feel special,
Giles. I was worried I hadnÕt gotten all the loegathan
demon stench off me.Ó
He
laughed. ÒCome back and sit down.Ó
She did, but she took the seat next to him instead of across, and moved it so
she was facing him. He slid his chair out to face her, and they sat knee to
knee.
He
reached out and cupped her cheek. ÒBuffy, donÕt make romantic decisions when
youÕre sad over a previous lover.Ó
She
put her hand over his and said, ÒThatÕs crap advice, Giles. And itÕs not like
this is new. Not for me, anyway. But you...youÕre just the same old Giles. Hugs
donÕt move you. Holding your hand on the way to our favorite cafŽ didnÕt move
you.Ó
ÒOh,
believe me, it did.Ó He decided not to tell her he wished she hadnÕt added
ÒoldÓ to his name.
ÒIt
did?Ó
He
nodded. ÒBuffy, everyone you love is somewhere else. The man who just might be
your soulmate is living with another woman. ItÕs
normal to be upset.Ó He took a deep breath. ÒYou know, Spike is alive. Maybe
you should find out where he is and—Ó
ÒBeen
there. Done that. Was fun for a while.Ó She gave him a weak smile. ÒHe was
working with Angel. I was weird with the whole Nina thing, and Spike got
jealous. He wants to be first—and only.Ó
ÒYes.
I can see that.Ó Giles thought that, sadly, heÕd settle for being loved for a
little while by her if it meant seeing her smile again, feeling this...hope
that seemed to be pounding somewhere between his gut and his racing heart.
ÒI
canÕt not love Angel. I canÕt just put it away in a box for Spike because heÕs
jealous.Ó She pushed her knees against his. ÒWould I have to do it for you?Ó
He
smoothed back her hair. ÒWould I have to forget Jenny?Ó
ÒOf
course not.Ó She looked appalled that heÕd even ask it.
ÒThen
thereÕs your answer.Ó
She
leaned into his hand. ÒI feel safe with you.Ó
He
drew his hand away. ÒThatÕs not a ringing endorsement for changing the nature
of our relationship, you know? You may feel safe with me because IÕm your
watcher—and your father.Ó
ÒYouÕre
not my father. I have a father. I even saw him in Spain a few months ago.Ó
Good
God sheÕd been busy. Where was he when she was revisiting her past? ÒAnd how
was he?Ó
ÒThe
same. Distant. Not too interested in Dawn. Or me, frankly. Has a new, young
wife. They have a son. The normal story. HeÕs moved on, but heÕs still my father, sucky as he is. YouÕre not.Ó
He
nodded. This was the very logic he used to make himself feel better about how
he felt for her—far be it for him to tell her to abandon it if it helped
her rationalize whatever she was feeling.
ÒWhen
I say I feel safe with you, I mean that I feel safe to be myself. Do you think
I drink like this when IÕm with Dawn? Or let Willow or God forbid Faith see me
weak? Xander looks at me like IÕm some prize he might
finally get, so I really have to watch myself with him. No down time when I
look like I need some TLC. No hugs that arenÕt hello or goodbye.Ó
ÒIÕm
sorry.Ó
ÒHeÕll
get over it. He always does. But...ItÕs there. And I donÕt want it from him. I
love him—as a friend. But thatÕs all weÕll ever be. But when I come here,
I relax. The minute I walk in the door and hear your voice—or just smell
your cologne—I can feel all my defenses melting. I meant it that home is
with you. It could be in Hell but it would be with you.Ó
ÒYouÕve
already been to hell—or one of them.Ó And escaped it, while killing the
proprietor. His marvelous slayer.
ÒAnd
IÕve been to heaven. Or one of them.Ó She smiled sweetly. ÒThis is the closest
I get to feeling warm and peaceful.Ó
He
smiled and squeezed her hand. ÒIÕm much older than you, Buffy.Ó There. It had
to be said.
ÒIf
you average the age of my previous boyfriends, youÕre going to get triple
digits, so actually IÕm dialing back.Ó She grinned. ÒI know how old you are,
Giles. I know you.Ó She eased her
chair back. ÒBut you donÕt seem convinced. So...maybe weÕll revisit this some
other day.Ó She leaned over and smelled the flowers. ÒPretty.Ó
ÒLike
you.Ó
She
glanced back at him. ÒThanks.Ó Then she pushed her chair in, careful not to hit
him as she did it, and he thought she was being too careful—too
controlled. She grabbed her drink and took it with her into her room, shutting
the door again too quietly. A slam would have made him feel better.
He
grabbed his glass, took a quick sip but then poured out the rest and washed it.
He hid the bottle, then walked slowly to her door, wanting this to be a
deliberate choice not a desperate reaction and knocked softly. When she didnÕt
answer, he said, ÒI donÕt want to table this discussion, Buffy.Ó
She
opened the door. She had her shirt partially unbuttoned and didnÕt seem in any
hurry to do it back up. Her drink was sitting on the nightstand and didnÕt look
like sheÕd drunk any more of it.
ÒI
want you,Ó he said softly, because saying it any other way seemed wrong. ÒSo,
so much.Ó
ÒBut...?Ó
ÒBut
I could give you a hundred reasons why this is a bad idea.Ó
She seemed to think about that, then nodded slowly. ÒAnd if you or I die
tomorrow, will those reasons mean anything to the one whoÕs left?Ó
He
knew his smile was a helpless one. ÒNo.Ó
ÒThen
we shouldnÕt wait. We should grab life while we still can. I donÕt mean while
weÕre not dead. I mean before we get so cold and lifeless inside that we canÕt
reach out anymore. I know youÕve been happier with me here.Ó
ÒI
have. So much happier.Ó
She
moved closer and twined her arms around his neck in a totally new way, a very
sexy way. ÒThen letÕs not talk ourselves out of this, okay?Ó
ÒIf
this doesnÕt work, I want you to promise to tell me. I donÕt want you to be
afraid youÕll lose my support and love if we find we need to go back to what we
were before.Ó
ÒAnd
you do the same. But Giles, we havenÕt been anything for long. Our relationship
has evolved from the moment we met. And through it all, you were what I needed.
IÕve thought this through. You know the life. You know the costs. You know the
little victories—and a few huge ones. YouÕve been there for all of them. And
now, we just evolve a little more. Yes?Ó
She
looked so beautiful pressed against him, her face shining up at him, her
fingers running through his hair that all he could do was say, ÒYes.Ó
And
kiss her.
He
was kissing Buffy, his slayer, his...love. And she was kissing him back. And it
felt like coming home, and the short step it took to evolve from whatever they
just were to this new arrangement was painless and exciting and tender.
And
dear God she was limber. A gym membership for him was in order if he wanted to
survive sex with her.
She
lay cuddled against him in her bed, the covers pulled up over them, and he
kissed her hair. ÒThank you for saying yes, Giles.Ó
He
laughed. ÒYes, such a hardship this will be.Ó He tipped her chin up so he could
kiss her again, then stroked her hair. ÒI have always loved you and I will
always love you, and I donÕt know what that love will look like in the future. But
I know right now, it makes me very happy.Ó
ÒMe,
too.Ó She leaned up to kiss him. ÒIÕm so tired.Ó
ÒSleep.
With me.Ó He found himself yawning. ÒYouÕre safe.Ó
She
traced his lips, a sweetly sensuous smile on her face. ÒSo are you.Ó
FIN