Spike dumped the bottle gently over the side of the bed, then wriggled a bit to pull up the covers over both of them. Wouldn't do to let his new pet catch cold. Sickness made blood taste awful.
Then he curled up again beside Lane, nestling into the crook of his neck again and closing his eyes. He lay there a long time, listening to the beat of a heart beneath his ear, feeling the rise and fall of a chest needing air, the warmth of a human body against him. It wasn't something he'd experienced much since he'd been turned.