They were longer than two weeks this time, and if Abby had thought she was restless before they'd gone on this hunt, it had nothing on how restless she was to get home again.

A different home. While she and Sullivan had been making less-than-nice with what was left of the vampire population of Nevada, Caulder and Marta had apparently been scouting for a better base of operations, something they could use on a more permanent basis than the ramshackle, empty building they'd been using while King recuperated.

Abby wasn't sure how she felt about that. The thought reminded her too much of the Honeycomb Hideout, how safe they'd felt there and how false that sense of security had turned out to be. On the other hand, having a sense of permanency wouldn't hurt Zoë and it would be good to put down some kind of roots, have somewhere they could leave stuff, come back to after a hunt and not have to worry about bedding down and settling in.

Overall, however, she couldn't get too worked up about it. She was beginning to realise that whatever qualified as home for her, it wasn't a building; it was wherever Zoë and King were.

It was late when they finally pulled to a stop on the rough patch of ground that would serve them as a parking lot. Caulder's truck was already parked there, and Sullivan slid theirs neatly in next to it, switching off the engine and turning off the lights. This time, they didn't walk into a seemingly empty building. Caulder's silhouette had appeared in the doorway as they pulled up, the light from behind him making him nothing more than a featureless shape in the darkness, but she recognised him, the shape of him and the way that he stood. It was comforting, somehow, the idea that he was now that familiar to her, that he'd been waiting for them to arrive - a sense of belonging that she hadn't realised she'd missed.

He nodded to Abby as she walked up to the door, his world-weary face cracking into a surprisingly attractive smile. "It is good to have you back," he said, widening his smile to encompass Sullivan, who was following hard on her heels. "Both of you."

"Zoë?" The eagerness was clear in her voice and she didn't even try to hide it - she needed to squeeze Zoë to within an inch of her life, give her the kind of hug that Abby just didn't give to anyone else.

Caulder's face drooped for a second, something slightly sympathetic colouring his expression. "Marta put her to bed about an hour ago after she fell asleep in her dinner. She's been a little excited about you coming back, and I don't think King helped much to calm her down."

While that was a disappointment, Abby moved past it and onto her next obvious question. "And King?" she asked a little dryly, relieved when Caulder's answer started with a little huff of laughter.

"I think he was just as excited as Zoë to have you back," he said. "But he's working it off in the gym. I don't believe that anyone was expecting to see you until the morning."

"Someone," said Sullivan pointedly, giving her a telling look as he moved past her and headed through the door with his bag, "insisted that we drive all night."

She ignored the jibe - there'd been no malice in it and she had other, more important things to think about. Like where the gym was, for example.

The corner of Caulder's mouth quirked as he read her far too easily. She should probably worry about that. Later. "In the basement," he said, and if he had any other comments to make, he was smart enough to keep them to himself.

She nodded her thanks at him, moving easily past him and heading in what she hoped was the right direction.

It was habit to do a quick recon, even if she was eager to find King. Never undervalue the need to know all of the exits, her father had told her more than once, probably the only useful piece of advice he'd ever given her. She moved through the building rapidly, noting everything - the layout of the rooms, the positions of the doors, the location of all of the windows and whether they locked.

It seemed to have been a factory once, somewhere small and compact but now empty and abandoned. She had no idea what it had made - the floors were concrete, but there weren't any trace marks of machinery, nothing that gave her a feel for what it must have been like when it was still in use. There was a small locker room, with an open shower area from what she could tell when she peered around the door, and the plasterboard offices in back had been converted by Caulder and Marta into small, self-contained bedrooms, big enough to hold mattresses and not much else. She found Zoë asleep in one of them, curled up on her side with Mr Gigglesworth clutched to her chest. The room on one side of Zoë's was empty, nothing but a bare mattress on the floor, but the one on the other side was obviously King's. There was a cheap chest of drawers in one corner, but King's leather jacket was draped over the top of it and his boots were by the bed.

There was no sign of Abby's stuff, the little she still had left after abandoning the Honeycomb Hideout, and the urge to check the drawers in King's room, just to see, made her fingers itch.

But there was another itch that needed scratching, one that was growing by the minute.

She finally found stairs that led her down and then out into another open area, one that had obviously served as a loading bay. The faint scent of diesel still hung in the air, and the heavy metal roll-up doors at one end were mute testimony to its former use.

The room was well lit if a little cold, bright electric lights overhead humming and flickering, and she could see what Caulder meant about 'the gym' - he'd scrounged or stolen equipment from somewhere, and mats covered half the floor.

But all of that was forgotten when she spotted King, hands wrapped around one of the low hanging metal beams as he used it to do pull-ups.

She paused in the doorway, taking the opportunity to study him before he knew she was there. He looked good - better than good, so much better than he had the last time she'd seen him that the last of her tension, the last few lingering doubts and fears she'd had about his recovery, faded away at the sight of him. He no longer looked anything like a vampire - he looked exactly like he was, young and healthy, and exceptionally fit. He'd lost weight while he'd been ill, thinner and sleeker than he had been, but even so, every one of his muscles was clearly defined as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back down again. The air down here might have held a slight chill, cooler than the rooms above, but despite that his thin t-shirt was soaked at the back with sweat, showing just how hard he'd been working. The fabric of it clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination, and her mouth went suddenly dry, a nervous stutter where her heart used to beat.

She should say something, let him know she was here, but all of her words had fled, leaving her tongue-tied and breathless. She moved, her boots scraping against the concrete, and King heard her, dropping back down to the floor and turning to look at her.

The wary look on his face disappeared as soon as he caught sight of her, replaced with a delighted smile that let her heart start beating again, even faster now.

"Hey," he said, pulling down his towel from where he'd stashed it over the same beam he'd been using to work out and wiping the sweat from his face with it as he walked towards her, a bounce back in his step that had been missing for weeks. "You're back."

As stating the obvious went, there were worse things he could have said. She opened her mouth to say something profound, something that would convey just how much she'd missed him without veering towards sickeningly sweet, but what came out was: "You look good."

She winced internally, realising just how dopey she sounded, but King didn't seem to mind. He grinned back at her, his whole face lighting up, and she'd like to be able to put that down to him simply being pleased about his recovery, and her noticing it. But there was a look in his eye, something slightly smug and amused, that told her that he knew exactly what had prompted her comment.

"Not looking so bad there yourself, Whistler," he said, confirming her suspicions. He slung his towel around his neck, taking her in with the long, slow look that didn't do anything to lower her heart rate but did a hell of a lot to raise the temperature in the room.

She swallowed, her fingers itching to reach out and touch him, slide across the planes of his chest, map every one of those muscles with her fingertips. It took a moment for her to remember that nothing was stopping her from doing that now, no need for restraint or denial, not after everything they'd been through.

Not after she'd already kissed him more than once.

He stopped within arm's reach, looking down at her, a cocky smile playing around the corners of his mouth. His eyes, however, were warm, something much more genuine in them, something real and only for her.

She reached out and touched, her fingers curling slightly as she pressed them against his t-shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart underneath.

King leaned in and she tilted her face up towards him automatically, her eyes closing as his mouth met hers. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, taking his time as though he, too, was realising that time was something they now had. His hand came to rest on her waist, his thumb stroking along her skin where her shirt had ridden up. The feel of his skin against hers sent little shivers up and down her spine, her lips parting in response, breathing him in.

His tongue met hers, stroking along her lips as gently, as mindlessly, as his fingers were moving against her skin, and heat pulsed through her, pressing her more firmly against him, her fingers twisting in his t-shirt and pulling him closer.

He pulled back and stared down at her, the smile vanishing from his face and leaving something hungry behind, something that didn't scare her this time. His eyes were wide, dark with want, but completely human.

He kissed her again, hard and fierce, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him, every inch of her body pressed up against his. She let out a sound, something soft and needy, and he swallowed it down, his hands moving restlessly over her back, one finally burying itself in her hair, tilting her head back as he explored her mouth.

Her knees had gone weak, something she thought only happened in badly written romances or stupid romantic comedies, not something that would ever happen in real life, not something that would ever happen to her. But kissing King like this was making her giddy, as though all of her hopes and dreams were coming true, all of her fears finally put to bed. She couldn't get enough of him, her hands familiarising herself with the shape of his body, slipping underneath his t-shirt and letting the warmth of him soak into her.

His skin felt like velvet, the muscles underneath hard and unyielding when she leaned into him, let him take her weight. Her fingers drifted upwards, sliding over the ridges and furrows of his abs and up into the coarse, wiry hair scattered across his chest. Everything about him was a pleasure, from the way he tasted to the musky scent of fresh sweat, from the strength of his arms to the softness of his skin.

He finally broke away, keeping his arms around her as he pressed his forehead against hers, panting more heavily now than he had been while he'd been working out. "Hey," he said again, his voice rougher now, filled with barely suppressed desire. "Want to take this somewhere more private?"

He had the best ideas sometimes, even if it meant letting go of him now, something she was strangely reluctant to do if it meant him taking his hands off her skin. She couldn't articulate it though, too lost in the shape of his face, now cupped in her hands, and the remembered taste of his mouth. She leaned in again, kissing him, letting that be her answer.

King laughed against her mouth, his arms tightening around her as his lips finally left hers, trailing over her cheek, down towards her neck. She didn't know how the hell he knew, whether it was from observation or because he was simply psychic, knowing her better than anyone else, but he fastened on the exact spot on her neck that had her knees going out from under her again, her fingers clutching at him as her head rolled back and pleasure sang along every nerve ending.

He pulled back just before he reduced her to an incoherent, twitching heap, his lips brushing against her ear as he murmured, "Well, I'm definitely filing that one away for future reference."

She might have resented it if she'd been capable of thinking, but all she could think about was how badly she wanted him: with her, on her, in her. She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, nipping at his lip with sharp, even teeth and loving every gasp, every little shudder he let out. His hands were hard on her body, growing more demanding by the second, a feedback loop of lust building between them until she was shaking as badly as he was, her kisses growing frantic, hot and heavy.

When he pulled back this time, his eyes were half-lidded and his face flushed, his gaze dropping automatically to her mouth as he brushed his thumb along her lower lip.

"I've got condoms upstairs," he rasped, heat flaring in his eyes again as she nipped at the tip of his thumb. It was too far and she didn't want to stop now, didn't ever want to stop. And...

They didn't have to stop, not when she'd thought ahead, hoping even if she hadn't been expecting. She'd picked up a packet of three from a vending machine in a rest-stop bathroom and tucked them neatly into her wallet so that Sullivan wouldn't see.

"Wallet," she muttered, opening her mouth and sucking his thumb into it just to listen to his sharp intake of breath. "It's in my -" But his fingers were already working their way inside her back pocket because they'd known each other long enough to know everything, up to and including where they kept their cash.

"You're such a Girl Scout, Whistler," he said, rifling through her wallet and pulling a foil covered packet free with a triumphant expression. "I really fucking love that about you."

"I thought that was the cookies," she said breathlessly and he grinned at her again, the look on his face warming her all the way through.

"Cookies, condoms," he sing-songed, his fingers making fast work of her buttons. "It's all good."

She wasn't going to argue with that. Couldn't argue with him, not when the smile he gave her, the way he cupped her cheek in his free hand and kissed her again, soft and sure, took her breath clean away.

-o-

When she finally caught her breath again, her limbs felt like lead, if lead had been capable of being happy and exhausted as well as heavy. It was only the chill of the sweat cooling on her body that finally gave her the energy to roll over, nestling herself against King's side, where it was warm and welcoming.

King wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as his fingers stroked absently up and down her spine. If he kept that up, she'd start purring and he'd never let her live that down.

"I needed that," she said quietly, sliding her arm across his waist and pillowing her head on his chest.

King chuckled softly. "Any time, sweetheart."

"I meant... I missed you."

"Yeah." King's fingers paused for a moment before they pressed lightly against her skin again. He turned his head, brushing his mouth against her hair. "I meant it. Any time, sweetheart."

She let out a soft hum of agreement, her limbs turning liquid again as exhaustion claimed her.

"Hey, you can't go to sleep here."

She snuggled into him, keeping her eyes closed. "Yes, I can," she murmured, the protest muffled by the yawn she tried, and failed, to hold in.

"Okay, you're right. You can go to sleep here. Just as long as you don't mind Sullivan walking in on us at some point."

That woke her up as effectively as a bucket of cold water. She and Sullivan might have come to an understanding, but that sure as hell didn't mean she wanted him to see her naked. She was pretty sure she'd reserved that right for King in perpetuity.

King was laughing at her as she gathered her clothes together, pulling on her panties and glaring at him when he showed no sign of stopping. It had no affect, and she rolled her eyes at him, fastening her shirt and not bothering with her bra, not when she had every intention of getting him naked again as soon as she got him upstairs, even if it was just to sleep.

She somehow doubted, however, that they'd just be sleeping, and she hoped the walls of their new offices-slash-bedrooms were up to the task, especially if Zoë was asleep right next door.

That was when it occurred to her again that she had no idea which room was hers. She glanced at King, hesitating, and he didn't miss that either, raising one eyebrow at her quizzically.

"Do you know what happened to my stuff?" she asked, aiming for subtle. Maybe she managed it, or maybe she didn't. Either way, it seemed the King's answer was going to be the same.

"Our room's next to Zoë's," he said, watching her reaction closely.

She schooled her impression into something neutral, trying to hide the warmth that flooded through her. She should be pissed that he'd made the decision without her, but it was difficult to get annoyed when her decision would have been the same even if they had discussed it. Besides, she knew where he was coming from, why he'd done it. They lived in each other's pockets anyway, and they'd wasted far too much time.

She limited herself to a nod, brisk and business-like, not missing the relief that crossed his face and was quickly hidden when she didn't call him on his presumption.

He cleared his throat, slightly sheepishly. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah." She did, but she couldn't quite suppress the inward wriggle of joy at hearing the words out loud again. "So do you think you could do me a favour? Could you try not to get bitten again?"

"Hey, at least this time I wasn't bitten by a hot chick, so you don't have to worry about that."

She busied herself with fastening her jeans, staring down at him. "Does this mean you've stopped questioning your sexuality?"

His brow furrowed for a moment before he remembered what he'd said, and then he rolled his eyes at her, although his amused expression ruined the effect of it. "I think I've adequately demonstrated my commitment to heterosexuality." He gave her a slow once over before smirking up at her and adding, with a glint in his eye, "Feel free to disagree."

Her mouth twitched. "I might need some more convincing."

"That right? Well, never let it be said I don't rise to a challenge." He grinned, widening his eyes at her again, his lechery deliberately overdone just to amuse her.

Her smile softened, a wave of affection for him washing over her. "I love you," she said gently, and his smirk faded, replaced by something small and pleased, if a little surprised.

"Do you know that's the first time you've said it?" he said.

She paused in the act of pulling on her boots, frowning at him as she cast her mind back. She must have -

She hadn't, not that she remembered clearly, although there was a lot about the last few weeks she didn't remember clearly, everything subsumed in her worry and her fear for him. King would remember better than she did, just like she remembered the first time he'd told her he loved her, the words burned into her brain and engraved on her heart.

She had to trust that he was right, but that didn't mean she was going to let him milk it.

"Well, I'm telling you now," she said, giving him a wryly amused look, one that said clearly she knew what he was up to.

"Well, let the record show that I said it first."

"There is no record, King."

"Well, there should be." He finally pushed himself to his feet, pulling his sweatpants back on and hunting around for his t-shirt. "Man, I need a shower," he said, wrinkling his nose as he tugged it over his head.

"We both do." She watched him get dressed, simply enjoying the moment, as weirdly domestic as that sounded inside her head. "And I really do. Love you, I mean."

"Yeah, yeah. You can say it as often as you like..." He shot her a sudden, mischievous grin, a light of sheer devilment in his eyes. "Still doesn't change the fact that I said it first."

"Dick," she said succinctly, and his grin widened.

He opened his mouth to come back with another smartass remark or two, then obviously thought better of it, the grin fading from his face and his expression turning tender. He reached up and stroked his fingers along her hairline, down over the soft curve of her cheek, and then leaned in to kiss her again. She was beginning to think that he was secretly a romantic, or maybe not so secretly, because when he finally pulled back he murmured again, "You can say it as often as you like."

"I'll bear that in mind," she said dryly, knowing she'd end up saying it more frequently than she'd ever thought she would and probably still less than he hoped. She gathered up her bra, leaving him to deal with the discarded condom. "Didn't you say something about a shower?"

He caught hold of her hand as she passed him, and kept hold of it as they headed towards the stairs. It was strange how well his hand fit in hers, and how quickly she got used to it.

Maybe she would say it as often as he hoped, especially since she was now certain that every time she did, he'd say it back.

-o-

Zoë's eyes were watching them tragically, a small pout on her face. Abby wasn't fooled - she'd seen that expression more than once, and some of the time it had even been on Zoë's face instead of on King's.

"No chocolate cereal for breakfast," she repeated, keeping her voice firm even when faced with Zoë's lip quiver. That one she hadn't learned from King.

Zoë turned tragic eyes on King, knowing that he was likely to be the easier option. He hesitated, casting a quick look in Abby's direction, one she returned with a frown. They needed to be consistent about these things, and he knew that.

He caved, like she'd known he would, but at least he had enough sense not to entirely contradict her 'no chocolate for breakfast' rule. "How about I make pancakes for breakfast when we get back?" he asked, and Zoë's face brightened.

But she was definitely learning a thing or two from Abby, as well, because she asked shrewdly, "With syrup?"

"With maple syrup," Abby said pointedly. "Not chocolate."

King wouldn't contradict her on that one since he was firmly of the opinion that the only correct way to serve pancakes was with maple syrup and possibly bacon if you were feeling decadent. It was one of the few times he thought that the addition of chocolate syrup to a meal was an abomination.

King met her eyes over the top of Zoë's head, flashing her a quick wink, one that had her smiling automatically in response. She'd move past that at some point, smiling at him just because she could. Probably.

"We ready to move out?" Sullivan asked from the doorway, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg.

Abby nodded, all business, and then turned back to Zoë. "Be good for Marta," she said. "We'll be back in a couple of days."

"Because you're hunting." It wasn't exactly a question, more like Zoë parroting facts, but Abby nodded anyway, smiling as she took in Zoë's serious expression. It wasn't scared, just solemn, because Zoë had every faith that they would be back, trusting them to fight the monsters that still haunted her dreams sometimes and then come home to make her pancakes.

King slung his arm around her shoulders, reaching out to ruffle Zoë's hair, at least in part because he knew she hated it. Abby leaned into his body, enjoying his warmth and the feel of him holding her as Zoë pouted up at them, smoothing her hair back down again.

"Pancakes," King said solemnly, matching Zoë's tone with his own. "I promise."

Zoë's pout faded a little, trusting him implicitly because even at six she already knew what it had taken Abby a little longer to figure out.

King always kept his promises. Especially the ones he made to her.

The end