Sweetness
Maya made the perfect pot of coffee. Not too strong. Not too weak. The best part was she knew how to make exactly four
cups so that they could split the pot between them without wasting one… single… drop.
Xander liked that in a woman: generous, yet efficient. And he really liked her. From her perfectly perked pot of java to her
perky… personality, he liked everything about sweet little Maya.
Except for this one minuscule thing. It was, in fact, so small it was barely worth mentioning.
Xander drained his coffee mug thinking how grateful he should be to have such an amazing – not to mention non-evil – woman
willing to share his bed and points beyond. Furthermore, she had bid farewell to a family with whom she had been parted for
five years so that she could return with him to London where (almighty Zeus knew) Andrew and Dawn desperately needed an
adult presence.
It was just… No. It was nothing. Less than nothing. Even less than less…
Xander got to his feet and left his suite when he heard Maya open the hallway bathroom door. He took that as his cue to join
her for his second cup of coffee. At present, Maya insisted on sleeping in the fold-a-bed in the seldom-used parlor. She took
her showers in the spare downstairs bathroom rather than using his, even though their relationship was fully consummated.
That was okay, he figured. She needed to keep her independence, which was all well and good, but they did technically share
the same address...
However, when Xander saw her standing in the tiled hallway, her pale skin scrubbed shell-pink and her blonde curls clinging
damply to her scalp, all of Xander’s thoughts melted and ran like chalk drawings in the rain. She wore a sunny yellow robe
over her gown and a pair of careworn fleece slippers, but still she shivered slightly in the drafty hall.
“One thing I never got used to,” she said, apologetically. “English winters.”
Xander pulled her into a quick embrace. Her hair smelled of candied cherries. “We can fix that,” he whispered, nipping at
the delicate whorl of her ear.
“Xander!” she said, batting at him playfully.
He steered her toward the kitchen. “I meant with coffee. I saved you some,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose, smiling. “Thank you,” she said. “And you? You’ve had enough to brave the London cold?”
“Oh, aye,” Xander said, tipping a salute. “My furnace is fully stoked.”
Maya reddened. “Mighty pleased to hear it, Captain,” she said.
They entered the kitchen making googly eyes at one another. At first, they didn’t see Andrew there, his soaking hair
trickling down his forehead, his arms and back of his WizardCon T-shirt. Said shirt clung wetly to his body.
Upon their entry, Andrew spun around, banging the cabinets closed. Maya noticed though Xander did not, that Andrew had
something concealed behind his back.
“Hey, guys! How goes the research?” Andrew said, breathless and overloud.
Ignoring his question, Xander glared. “There’s this thing called a towel,” he said. “You should look into it.”
Andrew, his eyes darting to the doorway, answered, “Thanks, Xander. I’ll do that.”
Xander cut him off with a wave. As he poured a cup of coffee he said, “You seen Dawn?”
Andrew shrank against the cabinet. “No?”
“Well if you do,” Xander went on, passing the cup to Maya, “tell her Robson called. He said something about an Australian
conjuration charm...”
“Oh that,” he said, with a patent Andrew nod-and-squint. “It’s didgeri-done.”
Maya laughed. Xander merely sneered. “And?”
“Ineffectual against Succubus venom,” Andrew said, taking on a scholarly air. “My disappointment is twofold. One: my nifty
and rather complicated Aboriginal charm failed to do its waking, and two: that our guys at the lab matched the poison and
bite marks of Spike’s wound with that of an Eastern European Succubus, one of a rare and powerful clan who prey
particularly on nobility and clergymen. In fact, it’s miraculous that Spike survived; the venom from a Succubus bite is
unequivocally fatal.”
Xander’s eyes had glazed. “Uh-huh,” he said, snidely. “Well, we gotta find something effectual, and fast. Sleeping Ugly’s
really giving me the creeps.”
“Okay, I’ll let Dawn know Mr. Robson called…” Andrew said off-handedly, trying to squeeze past Xander like a cat squirming
free from the clutches of a veterinarian.
Maya peeked around Andrew’s sopping shoulders. “You have honey?” she asked, her voice light.
Andrew looked uncomfortable. “I have… tea? Brewing?”
Maya tilted her head.
Andrew tossed his drenched hair from his face. “Upstairs. And also… a file download. Very sensitive. Pertinent. Well, bye!”
And with that, Andrew disappeared.
“Fuh-reak!” Xander shouted. He poured his second cup of coffee and returned his attention to Maya.
Maya shrugged. “I think he’s cute.”
Xander’s eyes narrowed. “I’m ruffled by that,” he said.
“Not as cute as you, of course,” she said. She went to the refrigerator, took out the non-fat creamer and poured a dollop of
it into her cup.
“Bad enough I have to occasionally carpool with the guy, now I have to keep an eye on my girl,” Xander said.
“Oh p’shaw! It’s not like that.”
Xander arched his brows. “Good, ’cause it’s not like I’m running with a spare…”
Maya tapped Xander’s chin with her spoon. “Besides,” she said, “I think he has other interests.” She scooted onto the
barstool and began spooning ample heaps of sugar into her cup, so that the finished product looked more like butterscotch
pudding than coffee.
Xander gave a brusque nod. “I always got that vibe from him, too,” he said. He sipped his coffee, then peering into her cup,
asked, “How do you drink it like that?”
“It’s sweet,” she said, her lashes aflutter. “Just like I like it.”
“My thoughts precisely,” Xander said, leaning in for a kiss. Maya’s lips met his, and they shared an unblemished moment of
bliss.
Xander was the one to break away. He drained his cup, straightened his tie and his eye-patch, and said, “Well, I’m off to
the BDG.”
Maya made a question mark with her brows.
“Big Daily Grind,” he explained. “Lunch?”
Maya nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll be here, potioning away,” she said. “I think we may have something.”
“Oh?”
Pointing to her stack of potion books piled near the pantry, she said, “I’ve found what appears to be an anti-sleeping draft
used by monks during the Crusades. Dawn’s been working on the translation, and we think it might work. Or, it could turn
him into a marmoset.”
“Spike the Marmoset,” Xander rubbed chin. “The idea has merit.”
“Xander, stop!”
“Right. Stopping,” he said. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you at lunchtime, and not a minute past.”
Maya held her breath until she heard Xander leave through the front door, and then she sighed.
Xander, she knew, was a good guy, but there was something about him she just didn’t understand. It was a little thing – one
puny pixel out of place in the big picture that was their relationship, so it hardly bore the mentioning, but…
It was just… No. It was nothing.
Maya heard a bump upstairs, followed by a trill of muffled giggles, and she smiled.
It was really nothing at all.
Dawn could only describe it in the terms of what it was not.
It was not frightening. It was not frenzied. It was not guarded, or lewd, or false. Nor was it rough. Certainly not in the way
Buffy had hastily intimated in their few uneasy, sterile talks about it. It was not dirty or unpleasant, and thanks to the
heavens for that.
Dawn lay on her back in Andrew’s bed, feeling daring and naked and still damp from their morning shower. As luck had it,
Andrew was quite earth-conscious, and argued that they should always take showers together when they could. You know,
in the spirit of conservation. Who was she to disagree?
With Andrew, she could not imagine how truly horrified she had been of the act of sex. A week and a day had passed since
their first endearingly awkward time together when she had finally worked up the moxie to pounce on him, but it seemed
much longer, and the memories of Augie and Brodie and the others who’d touched her had faded like old photographs in her
mind.
On that first night, when Andrew lay at last beside her, she turned to him and whispered fervently, “So that’s what all the
fuss is about!”
She smiled at the memory, stretching her long legs like a cat beneath the crisp sheets. The room still smelled of her
honeysuckle shampoo and his plain Ivory soap. Outside a glaze of ice formed over the edges of puddles and around gutter-
drains. Inside, though, it felt like a greenhouse in July – all balmy and fragrant – and Dawn wanted nothing more than to
spend the whole day in bed.
Since that first night, they carved out every spare moment their schedule afforded them to be together. They scarcely had
time to be afraid or worried or upset over anything, with their days so full of research, of Watcher’s Council-ing, of Spike-
sitting, of Maya and Xander evading, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Dawn closed her eyes. She trailed a hand experimentally over the smooth oval of her stomach, imagining it was his dabbling
caresses, and she felt herself blooming with color at the thought.
At that moment, Andrew burst into the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
Dawn sat up, the sheet falling away from her body.
“Did you get it?”
He passed the Honey Bear to her. “I got it,” he said. He stripped off his drippy T-shirt and knelt beside her on the bed.
Dawn toyed with the bear, walking it down her long torso to her belly button. “Okay,” she purred. “Now what do we do with
it?”
Andrew licked his lips. “Blindfold him, probably. He’s way too young to witness what we’re about to do.”
Dawn rustled through her things on his bedside table, and, finding one of her hair scrunchies, looped it twice over the Honey
Bear’s eyes. “There,” she said, tapping the cap. “All better?”
“All better,” Andrew said, nodding. Droplets of cool water rained down on her, sending chills across her creamy skin. She
arched her back, and Andrew’s eyes bulged in his head.
“Mia tesora,” he whispered, tracing the paths of the drops over the lines of her ribs and the curve of her breasts, making
her body tense and writhe deliciously beneath the weightless touch of his fingers. “Mia fresca.”
Dawn’s forehead creased. “My fish?”
“No!” Andrew said, laughing. “My peach.”
“Right,” Dawn said. She curled toward him, stretching her arms over her head. She delighted as the desired
acknowledgment flickered across his face. “Really, though,” she said, running her hand up the inside of his thigh. “What do
we do with honey?”
“Uhhhh,” Andrew droned. “So many things. Many, many, many, many things,” he whispered.
“Tell me,” Dawn said. She tucked her hand into the waistband of his pajama pants and tugged them. “You’re the Jack of
Sexual Experience. I’m the Queen of None.” She pursed her lips in a pout. “Almost none.”
Andrew flicked the Honey Bear’s cap open and coaxed her to squeeze a drop of honey onto his finger. He smoothed it onto
her lips, and then kissed her.
It was a long, deep, enveloping kiss, and she wrapped him in her arms, drawing him down into it until he warmed her body
with his own. Timeless moments later, he ended the kiss, giving them time to savor the lingering sweetness.
Sweetness.
That was it – the word she sought. What she had with him; it was sweetness. Together, they were sweet, simple, pure,
uncomplicated.
Dawn ran her tongue over her lips, knowing well that he loved the shape and fullness of them. He bent to kiss her again, but
she pressed the palm of her hand to his chest to stop him.
“Do you feel guilty at all that we’re supposed to be hard at work this very moment, looking for ways to find my sister and
wake Spike so that we can stop the fast-approaching Apocalypse?” she asked.
Andrew paused for a fraction of a second. “We are hard at work,” he said, “This helps us think.”
Dawn breathed a relieved sigh. “Good answer,” she said, twining her legs with his and wrapping them both into the
mellifluous warmth of Andrew’s narrow bed.
As for the Honey Bear, Dawn found plenty of use for him, though most of it came as quite the surprise to all participating
parties. It was sufficient to say that from that moment onward, neither Dawn nor Andrew could look at a Honey Bear with a
straight face ever again.
Maya made the perfect pot of coffee. Not too strong. Not too weak. The best part was she knew how to make exactly four
cups so that they could split the pot between them without wasting one… single… drop.
Xander liked that in a woman: generous, yet efficient. And he really liked her. From her perfectly perked pot of java to her
perky… personality, he liked everything about sweet little Maya.
Except for this one minuscule thing. It was, in fact, so small it was barely worth mentioning.
Xander drained his coffee mug thinking how grateful he should be to have such an amazing – not to mention non-evil – woman
willing to share his bed and points beyond. Furthermore, she had bid farewell to a family with whom she had been parted for
five years so that she could return with him to London where (almighty Zeus knew) Andrew and Dawn desperately needed an
adult presence.
It was just… No. It was nothing. Less than nothing. Even less than less…
Xander got to his feet and left his suite when he heard Maya open the hallway bathroom door. He took that as his cue to join
her for his second cup of coffee. At present, Maya insisted on sleeping in the fold-a-bed in the seldom-used parlor. She took
her showers in the spare downstairs bathroom rather than using his, even though their relationship was fully consummated.
That was okay, he figured. She needed to keep her independence, which was all well and good, but they did technically share
the same address...
However, when Xander saw her standing in the tiled hallway, her pale skin scrubbed shell-pink and her blonde curls clinging
damply to her scalp, all of Xander’s thoughts melted and ran like chalk drawings in the rain. She wore a sunny yellow robe
over her gown and a pair of careworn fleece slippers, but still she shivered slightly in the drafty hall.
“One thing I never got used to,” she said, apologetically. “English winters.”
Xander pulled her into a quick embrace. Her hair smelled of candied cherries. “We can fix that,” he whispered, nipping at
the delicate whorl of her ear.
“Xander!” she said, batting at him playfully.
He steered her toward the kitchen. “I meant with coffee. I saved you some,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose, smiling. “Thank you,” she said. “And you? You’ve had enough to brave the London cold?”
“Oh, aye,” Xander said, tipping a salute. “My furnace is fully stoked.”
Maya reddened. “Mighty pleased to hear it, Captain,” she said.
They entered the kitchen making googly eyes at one another. At first, they didn’t see Andrew there, his soaking hair
trickling down his forehead, his arms and back of his WizardCon T-shirt. Said shirt clung wetly to his body.
Upon their entry, Andrew spun around, banging the cabinets closed. Maya noticed though Xander did not, that Andrew had
something concealed behind his back.
“Hey, guys! How goes the research?” Andrew said, breathless and overloud.
Ignoring his question, Xander glared. “There’s this thing called a towel,” he said. “You should look into it.”
Andrew, his eyes darting to the doorway, answered, “Thanks, Xander. I’ll do that.”
Xander cut him off with a wave. As he poured a cup of coffee he said, “You seen Dawn?”
Andrew shrank against the cabinet. “No?”
“Well if you do,” Xander went on, passing the cup to Maya, “tell her Robson called. He said something about an Australian
conjuration charm...”
“Oh that,” he said, with a patent Andrew nod-and-squint. “It’s didgeri-done.”
Maya laughed. Xander merely sneered. “And?”
“Ineffectual against Succubus venom,” Andrew said, taking on a scholarly air. “My disappointment is twofold. One: my nifty
and rather complicated Aboriginal charm failed to do its waking, and two: that our guys at the lab matched the poison and
bite marks of Spike’s wound with that of an Eastern European Succubus, one of a rare and powerful clan who prey
particularly on nobility and clergymen. In fact, it’s miraculous that Spike survived; the venom from a Succubus bite is
unequivocally fatal.”
Xander’s eyes had glazed. “Uh-huh,” he said, snidely. “Well, we gotta find something effectual, and fast. Sleeping Ugly’s
really giving me the creeps.”
“Okay, I’ll let Dawn know Mr. Robson called…” Andrew said off-handedly, trying to squeeze past Xander like a cat squirming
free from the clutches of a veterinarian.
Maya peeked around Andrew’s sopping shoulders. “You have honey?” she asked, her voice light.
Andrew looked uncomfortable. “I have… tea? Brewing?”
Maya tilted her head.
Andrew tossed his drenched hair from his face. “Upstairs. And also… a file download. Very sensitive. Pertinent. Well, bye!”
And with that, Andrew disappeared.
“Fuh-reak!” Xander shouted. He poured his second cup of coffee and returned his attention to Maya.
Maya shrugged. “I think he’s cute.”
Xander’s eyes narrowed. “I’m ruffled by that,” he said.
“Not as cute as you, of course,” she said. She went to the refrigerator, took out the non-fat creamer and poured a dollop of
it into her cup.
“Bad enough I have to occasionally carpool with the guy, now I have to keep an eye on my girl,” Xander said.
“Oh p’shaw! It’s not like that.”
Xander arched his brows. “Good, ’cause it’s not like I’m running with a spare…”
Maya tapped Xander’s chin with her spoon. “Besides,” she said, “I think he has other interests.” She scooted onto the
barstool and began spooning ample heaps of sugar into her cup, so that the finished product looked more like butterscotch
pudding than coffee.
Xander gave a brusque nod. “I always got that vibe from him, too,” he said. He sipped his coffee, then peering into her cup,
asked, “How do you drink it like that?”
“It’s sweet,” she said, her lashes aflutter. “Just like I like it.”
“My thoughts precisely,” Xander said, leaning in for a kiss. Maya’s lips met his, and they shared an unblemished moment of
bliss.
Xander was the one to break away. He drained his cup, straightened his tie and his eye-patch, and said, “Well, I’m off to
the BDG.”
Maya made a question mark with her brows.
“Big Daily Grind,” he explained. “Lunch?”
Maya nodded. “Gotcha. I’ll be here, potioning away,” she said. “I think we may have something.”
“Oh?”
Pointing to her stack of potion books piled near the pantry, she said, “I’ve found what appears to be an anti-sleeping draft
used by monks during the Crusades. Dawn’s been working on the translation, and we think it might work. Or, it could turn
him into a marmoset.”
“Spike the Marmoset,” Xander rubbed chin. “The idea has merit.”
“Xander, stop!”
“Right. Stopping,” he said. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I’ll see you at lunchtime, and not a minute past.”
Maya held her breath until she heard Xander leave through the front door, and then she sighed.
Xander, she knew, was a good guy, but there was something about him she just didn’t understand. It was a little thing – one
puny pixel out of place in the big picture that was their relationship, so it hardly bore the mentioning, but…
It was just… No. It was nothing.
Maya heard a bump upstairs, followed by a trill of muffled giggles, and she smiled.
It was really nothing at all.
Dawn could only describe it in the terms of what it was not.
It was not frightening. It was not frenzied. It was not guarded, or lewd, or false. Nor was it rough. Certainly not in the way
Buffy had hastily intimated in their few uneasy, sterile talks about it. It was not dirty or unpleasant, and thanks to the
heavens for that.
Dawn lay on her back in Andrew’s bed, feeling daring and naked and still damp from their morning shower. As luck had it,
Andrew was quite earth-conscious, and argued that they should always take showers together when they could. You know,
in the spirit of conservation. Who was she to disagree?
With Andrew, she could not imagine how truly horrified she had been of the act of sex. A week and a day had passed since
their first endearingly awkward time together when she had finally worked up the moxie to pounce on him, but it seemed
much longer, and the memories of Augie and Brodie and the others who’d touched her had faded like old photographs in her
mind.
On that first night, when Andrew lay at last beside her, she turned to him and whispered fervently, “So that’s what all the
fuss is about!”
She smiled at the memory, stretching her long legs like a cat beneath the crisp sheets. The room still smelled of her
honeysuckle shampoo and his plain Ivory soap. Outside a glaze of ice formed over the edges of puddles and around gutter-
drains. Inside, though, it felt like a greenhouse in July – all balmy and fragrant – and Dawn wanted nothing more than to
spend the whole day in bed.
Since that first night, they carved out every spare moment their schedule afforded them to be together. They scarcely had
time to be afraid or worried or upset over anything, with their days so full of research, of Watcher’s Council-ing, of Spike-
sitting, of Maya and Xander evading, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.
Dawn closed her eyes. She trailed a hand experimentally over the smooth oval of her stomach, imagining it was his dabbling
caresses, and she felt herself blooming with color at the thought.
At that moment, Andrew burst into the room, slamming the door closed behind him.
Dawn sat up, the sheet falling away from her body.
“Did you get it?”
He passed the Honey Bear to her. “I got it,” he said. He stripped off his drippy T-shirt and knelt beside her on the bed.
Dawn toyed with the bear, walking it down her long torso to her belly button. “Okay,” she purred. “Now what do we do with
it?”
Andrew licked his lips. “Blindfold him, probably. He’s way too young to witness what we’re about to do.”
Dawn rustled through her things on his bedside table, and, finding one of her hair scrunchies, looped it twice over the Honey
Bear’s eyes. “There,” she said, tapping the cap. “All better?”
“All better,” Andrew said, nodding. Droplets of cool water rained down on her, sending chills across her creamy skin. She
arched her back, and Andrew’s eyes bulged in his head.
“Mia tesora,” he whispered, tracing the paths of the drops over the lines of her ribs and the curve of her breasts, making
her body tense and writhe deliciously beneath the weightless touch of his fingers. “Mia fresca.”
Dawn’s forehead creased. “My fish?”
“No!” Andrew said, laughing. “My peach.”
“Right,” Dawn said. She curled toward him, stretching her arms over her head. She delighted as the desired
acknowledgment flickered across his face. “Really, though,” she said, running her hand up the inside of his thigh. “What do
we do with honey?”
“Uhhhh,” Andrew droned. “So many things. Many, many, many, many things,” he whispered.
“Tell me,” Dawn said. She tucked her hand into the waistband of his pajama pants and tugged them. “You’re the Jack of
Sexual Experience. I’m the Queen of None.” She pursed her lips in a pout. “Almost none.”
Andrew flicked the Honey Bear’s cap open and coaxed her to squeeze a drop of honey onto his finger. He smoothed it onto
her lips, and then kissed her.
It was a long, deep, enveloping kiss, and she wrapped him in her arms, drawing him down into it until he warmed her body
with his own. Timeless moments later, he ended the kiss, giving them time to savor the lingering sweetness.
Sweetness.
That was it – the word she sought. What she had with him; it was sweetness. Together, they were sweet, simple, pure,
uncomplicated.
Dawn ran her tongue over her lips, knowing well that he loved the shape and fullness of them. He bent to kiss her again, but
she pressed the palm of her hand to his chest to stop him.
“Do you feel guilty at all that we’re supposed to be hard at work this very moment, looking for ways to find my sister and
wake Spike so that we can stop the fast-approaching Apocalypse?” she asked.
Andrew paused for a fraction of a second. “We are hard at work,” he said, “This helps us think.”
Dawn breathed a relieved sigh. “Good answer,” she said, twining her legs with his and wrapping them both into the
mellifluous warmth of Andrew’s narrow bed.
As for the Honey Bear, Dawn found plenty of use for him, though most of it came as quite the surprise to all participating
parties. It was sufficient to say that from that moment onward, neither Dawn nor Andrew could look at a Honey Bear with a
straight face ever again.
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.Chapter Index.
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends
Anywhere Out
of This World
Blood, Pressure
The Drawing Board
All's Well
Anywhere Out of
This World
Mourning Sickness
Welcome to Hell
Relative
Matters of Time
& Fishes
International Calls
Empty as Houses
Lusty Wrong Feelings
Enthralled
Thanksgiving
Seduced
Innocents Lost
Burn
Flashback
Not A Chance In Hell
Empty Rooms
Two Roads Diverged
Starfall
Blindsided
Not Her Own
Outta Here
The Valley of the
Shadow of Death
Comes the Rain
Smoke and Mirrors
Drawn to You
Team Angel
By Fire Reborn
Salvage
Ashes to Ashes
Life Is...
With A Little Help
Appearances Deceiving
Familiarity
Sweetness
Not All Who Wander
That Old Black Magic
For Lorne
Drawn Together
Lost to Sand
Fall of Triumvirate
Parallel Lives
The Lovers
Avenger
Double Cross
Pursuit
Ripper's Girl
Pandemonium
Negative Space
Raveled Threads
Asunder
Human Hands
Singular
Fragmented
Symmetry
Plans
Rogue Squadron
Legends
It's these little things,
they can pull you under.
Live your life filled with joy
and wonder.
I always knew this
altogether thunder
was lost in our little lives.
Sweetness Follows, REM
they can pull you under.
Live your life filled with joy
and wonder.
I always knew this
altogether thunder
was lost in our little lives.
Sweetness Follows, REM
Warning: This chapter is NC-17 due to sexual content.