After the fight, some of which was still a blur due to the rage he'd let take over, he'd been pretty tired. The talk he'd had with Faith afterward had also been more than a little exhausting. So it was absolutely no surprise that after he and Faith finished their nightly activities, he'd fallen into a fairly deep sleep. It wasn't quite as restful as he'd have liked, with the crap from Detroit still floating closer to the surface of his brain than it had in awhile, but it was a hell of a lot better than the last couple nights.
Pike could be a pretty sound sleeper. When your cases could sometimes result in all night research-athons or veritable expeditions into sewer systems, you learned to take sleep whenever and wherever you could get it. He knew older demon hunters who could literally drop off to sleep in barely a few seconds, and while he wasn't quite that good, it wasn't hard for him to sleep. However, when he was literally flipped end over end as the covers were yanked out from under him, and the cold October air met certain parts of his anatomy that it had no business whatsoever meeting, even Pike could wake up pretty quickly.
He blinked owlishly, face buried in the pillow, and then slowly rolled his head over to look at Faith. Was this punishment for the talk last night, where he'd confirmed with his perfectly sane mind that he'd meant it when he'd said he loved her? No, that didn't seem right. And the minute he saw Faith standing there wrapped in sheets, he had some clue what was going on.
That wasn't Faith.
Oh, sure, it looked like Faith. Dark hair, expressive eyes, pretty face, full lips, and underneath the blankets he knew there were some very pleasant curves. But Faith had never, in all the time he'd known her, struck him as being overly modest. Certainly not with someone who had seen her naked before. There was also the way she glared. Oh, it was just as scathing, but it wasn't Faith's glare.
I am going to have to exorcise a demon while naked. If I ever write an autobiography, this story is definitely not going in. He really wasn't ready for a fight. The events of yesterday were still taking their toll, and besides, while Faith might not have been in the driver's seat, it was still her body.
He was never going to let pain become a part of this thing they had. Never.
Which meant he'd have to go for the flask of holy water in his pants. If he rolled off the bed, and if he was fast, he could probably beat demon-in-Faith to the draw. Unfortunately, he didn't have a trap drawn anywhere in the motel room, so he'd have to be quick on the Latin, too. It was unlikely that he'd be able to get both done before the demon used Faith's Slayer-enhanced speed, crossed the room, and snapped his neck.
"G'morning to you too, Faith," he grumbled, acting for all the world like he hadn't figured out something was up. Maybe he could throw the demon off long enough to allow him to get to the flask. If he could do that, then he could at least have a chance of getting this done.