Pairings: Kenzi/Dyson (eventually), hints of Doccubus and Kenzi/Hale, eventual Valkubus (because I ship them too hard not to put them in)

A/N: OK, so I want to forewarn you all that I haven't exactly been reliable in the past with updating and finishing stories – so don't expect too much from this one. That said I have great (hopefully) plans for this one and fingers crossed that I do finish it. I wasn't going to post it since I hadn't completed it but I decided to just bite the bullet and do it. I hope you like it

Oh, and the title is taken from the song Crawling by Linkin Park and the rating may change later on.

…

"Ow!" Kenzi groaned, cupping her head in an attempt to shield it from the pain. A futile pursuit considering the pain was coming from inside it. She had a momentary image of pushing her fingers through her skull and cupping her brain to protect it from inside harm – gross. She'd so been around the Fae too much if this was what she thought of in response to a hangover. "I hate you," she mumbled, not sure if she was talking to the hangover; the empty bottles of tequila nearby; herself for giving into their sweet, sweet temptation; or the man across from her, who seemed to be tolerating his own alcohol intake infuriatingly well. Stupid Fae.

He smirked at her, unmoved by her distress. Oh, it was most certainly him who she hated. "Are you always this pleasant in the morning?" he asked.

There was a moan to Kenzi's left and the surface she'd been sleeping on suddenly shifted. She glanced down in vague bewilderment that her bed of convenience was not so much a piece of furniture but a piece of human – Bo's stomach to be exact. The two were sprawled across the couch in their loft where they must have passed out at some point in the night – or early morning, as would probably be more accurate. She blinked and noticed a trail of saliva on her best friend's midriff – left there in the night by someone whose name most certainly didn't rhyme with frenzy– and wiped at it guiltily. Another moan.

"Quiet you," the moaner, who also happened to be Bo, mumbled in Dyson's general direction.

He only smiled and sipped at his coffee, annoyingly chipper – well, by his standards anyway. Apparently, not only was he not suffering from the devil of all hangovers, but he'd also had time to get up and fetch himself a coffee, and some breakfast if the dirtied plate on the coffee table was anything to go by. Her stomach roiled just looking at it, the thought of food bringing up the image of a yucky toilet bowl that, if she wasn't lucky, she'd be spending the rest of her morning bent over in pure misery. Hangovers sucked.

"I hate you. You, I hate," she grumbled, scowling at him.

"Quiet." Bo repeated with the air of one who expected their will to be obeyed without question.

Kenzi resisted the urge to poke out her tongue at her, mostly because the talking was hurting her head too. Where was Hale when you needed him? Oh, right, shacking up with some magic booby (literally) bimbos from the Dal. Why would he do such a thing? They were way more fun than sex! More specifically, she was way more fun than sex. Of course, her judgement might be a bit skewered considering the last time she had gotten a little action with anyone other than herself was – actually, best not to even go there; one of the drawbacks of living with a succubus. Around Bo, she was like a feather toy begging a cat to chase it when there was a perfectly good mouse right in front of said cat.

She loved her but she was a total killer for her sex life.

She shut her eyes and groaned when her head reminded her, a little too insistently, that there was a hammer tap-dancing inside it, alongside a nail playing pogo stick.

"You," she clicked her fingers in the vague direction of Dyson. "Painkillers. Now."

There was a murmur of assent from the Succubus's corner. Kenzi supposed she should probably get up and move before she added to her already hefty pile of slobber but she was so achy and Bo was so comfy. Ah, screw it. Nothing short of a tornado could get her to move right now.

There was the sound of movement: Dyson obeying. "It's your own fault, you know. It was you who insisted on this get together, and that we drink several bars worth of alcohol."

Kenzi pouted. "It was a celebration party. You know, in celebration of the fact that oh-yay-the-world-didn't-end-we're-all-still-kickin'-and-bo-didn't-go-all-crazy-ax-murderer-on-our-asses."

"Thanks for that Kenzi," Bo muttered.

"A party which you've had every night for a week straight. Hale finally cottoned onto the fact that you were only using him for his siren cure for hangovers and bailed." Dyson confided, the amusement clear in his voice. He wouldn't be so happy if he was the one with the massive headache and the siren with his miracle powers was nowhere to be found.

Kenzi pouted. "Lame."

There was movement and she breathed relief when a hot cup of coffee and some painkillers were placed in her hands; ok, so maybe Dyson wasn't so bad. "Maybe you should cut back on the partying. A week is stretching things, even for you." Scratch that, he was a dick and she wanted nothing more to do with them.

She popped the painkillers into her mouth, swallowed and glared at him. "Shut it, Kujo."

"And hand me the painkillers already," Bo exclaimed and breathed a sigh of relief when she, too, was given her precious bounty. "And Dyson's right. No more partying. I don't think my head can take it."

"Lame," Kenzi muttered for the second time, scowling into her coffee. So maybe she had been over doing it with the drinking and the partying but what was so wrong with being glad you were alive? They'd faced a Fae war and they were all still kicking with tongues attached able to tell the tale! That was worth celebrating.

It was also a nice distraction from the still healing wound in her side and the reminder of how close she had come to not being among those survivors. It wasn't as though she hadn't nearly died before – there weren't enough fingers on her hands to count the number of times that had happened – but if Hale hadn't been there . . .

There was a lot of blood.

And with what had happened with Nate. . .

Then of course there was this freakin' itch on her arm that refused to go away. Although she had a feeling she knew where it had come from, there was no way she was going to ask her friends for help and thus admit that, yes, again, the human had gotten herself into trouble. Plus, that Norn was batshit crazy and she didn't want to think about the many number of things that could have been in the bottle that she broke. For all she knew, she was going to grow a tale.

Oh, god. She would never be able to pull that off in her favourite pants.

The Fae could really suck ass sometimes.

Nonetheless, she sighed in relent and nodded her consent to the no-more-partying decree. She could always escape to the Dal and drink Trick out of his alcohol. The two could bond over their near death experiences together.

She shuddered at the reminder of something else she didn't want to think about. Dying scared her, but losing one of her friends, her family, was something she wasn't prepared to contemplate. Not when she'd found some that actually loved her for the first time. No, there was no way she was getting through the next couple of weeks without some serious booze.

….

"How much did you drink last night?" Dyson asked, watching Bo curiously as she went about cleaning up the remnants of their night of partying – or rather Kenzi's night of partying and their night of playing hostages. For someone who had been unable to face the light of day only minutes ago, she now had a conspicuously hangover-less bounce to her step.

The retching from the bathroom was a clear sign that her speedy recovery had not in fact extended to her roommate. Fae metabolism, you got to love it.

Bo smiled at him wryly in the midst of chucking out some empty wine bottles. "Don't worry, only a few glasses. I was just putting on the act for Kenz in the hopes that it may further convince her that our partying has run its course." She cringed a moment later after lifting up a couch pillow to find it had, at some point in the night, made love to a pizza slice. The result of their union was less than appetizing. "Gross." She spared him a glance, noticing his confused look. "I wasn't kidding about my head not being able to take much more, or my stomach. Fae I may be but even my super metabolism finds Kenzi's brand of having a good time challenging. What about you?"

She was gazing so morosely at the mess on the couch cushion that Dyson took pity on her and snagged a few tissues from the tissue box on the coffee table. He went about doing his best to clean off the pizza, a near impossible task that nonetheless improved with his valiant efforts. "I'm just here to make sure neither of you get into too much trouble, like invoking Baba Yaga for instance." He wasn't the type to be petty, well, not since getting his love back at any rate but the number of slaps he'd gotten during that mishap still stung . . . and he feared his nether region would never be the same from the onslaught it had received.

Bo looked mildly offended with a side of guilt. "That was one time." She held up a finger to accentuate before pouting somewhat childishly. "And it wasn't even me. I'm blameless."

Dyson smirked. "Well, Kenzi did do it for you."

If anything, Bo's pout and childishness only increased. "I know." She paused in collecting the empty pizza boxes, face growing contemplative. "Honestly, I think she did it a little for herself as well."

He gazed at her confused. Unless he'd grown himself a serious case of amnesia, he was fairly certain he hadn't carried out an affair with Kenzi only to dump her after sacrificing his love for her. If that was the case, Bo would have already killed him by now. "What do you mean?"

She smiled somewhat sadly at him. "We're her family, Dyson, you're her family and for Kenzi that's huge. For both of us it is, actually." She sighed and shook her head, continuing with the clean-up. "When you were being a great big douche to us, I think you really hurt her. I understood why you were acting that way even if it did hurt . . . but I think for Kenzi . . . I think she couldn't understand why, if you'd lost your love for me, why you still couldn't love her." She shrugged her shoulders with feigned carelessness, avoiding his gaze. "In a way, I guess you broke her heart too."

Dyson felt something heavy settle in his chest. He didn't like to think back on those times or how he had behaved towards the people he loved. He knew that Kenzi had been pissed at him and that he hadn't exactly been kind towards her but he hadn't considered that Bo hadn't been the only one he'd really hurt. With his love safely back where it ought to be, courtesy of none other than the girl herself, the guilt was near crippling. The idea of anyone hurting Kenzi made his inner wolf snarl, the fact that it had been him left him at a loss. There was no-one to attack but himself.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. It was never about hurting you or Kenzi, Bo."

She laid a comforting hand on his arm, smile small but forgiving. It wasn't her forgiveness he was after at the moment, though. "I know, believe me, I do. And she knows it to. You've lost something so … huge, and that can make the best of us act like royal douchebags." She shrugged and Dyson felt another pang of guilt at the fact that he hadn't told her yet of what he'd gained back from the Norn, through Kenzi. He didn't feel like he should tell her, though. She was finally finding some semblance of happiness with Lauren and discovering that his love had returned would only shake that. There was also the fact that, even with his love back, he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Bo, or anything at the moment. He'd been without the ability to feel deep love, for anyone, for so long that to have those emotions back all of a sudden left him dazed. His feelings were a mess inside of him and until he sorted them out, he wasn't telling Bo anything. "And I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you had to sacrifice that for me. I really am."

The guilt deepened but he ignored it. Eyes solemn, he placed his own hand over the one she had settled on his arm. "Don't be. I'd do it again." He meant it. No matter how confused his feelings, Bo would always be something precious to him.

She smiled, somewhat wonderingly. "There's something different about you."

He turned away, her hand slipping from his arm. "I'm just glad we beat the Garuda."

"Bo, the tiles are staring at me funny!" came a whine from inside what passed for their bathroom. "I think they're plotting against me! And my throat hurts. And my head. Ow."

"Though not glad enough to do this again," he amended quickly, exchanging a look with Bo.