Beta'd by Kitty and posted in celebration of her Birthday. I would like to dedicate this fic to her and also to Amejisuto who has taken a fall and is not feeling too good at the moment. Love you both.



Crazy. Thatís what he said I was, totally out of my mind crazy. This from a complete stranger. If I hadnít thought he was quite so damn right, I would have clocked him. Bastard.

Heíd only been enjoying the night, I guess; enjoying the club and enjoying the atmosphere. Then heíd made what could have been the most costly mistake of his life. Heíd spoken to me. That was when Spike went crazy. He totally freaked out. Apparently, I was flirting. Apparently, Iím nothing but a slut when Iíve had a few to drink. I managed to stop him from ripping the innocent stranger limb from limb, but I didnít quite manage to stop him from wrecking half the club.

Then, heíd asked. The stranger had asked why I bothered with such a freak. He said I was totally out of my mind crazy. Of course, he hadnít counted on vampire hearing. Spike stopped trying to punch a hole the size of a window into the wall and concentrated on trying to rip out the guyís innards. I had to put myself between them. I earned myself a lovely Ďshinerí for that little act of bravery.

All the way home I thought about what that stranger had said. He said I was crazy. Me. Totally out of my mind crazy. Me. Not Spike. Me. I mean, hey, I wasnít the one acting all psychotic. So why was I on the end of that particular observation?

Am I crazy? For being with Spike?

Do you think that Spike getting growly and jealous and smashing up that club made me hot for it? Do you think I get off on the violence? I donít. I hate it. I hate that Spike thinks that he can control me. Who does he think he is, trying to tell me who I can and canít talk to?

Spike scared a lot of people tonight. I donít think thatís acceptable. So I told him.

At least I waited until we were in the privacy of our own home before I let rip.

My throat hurts now. I think I screamed too much. I really regret throwing those dishes. Thatíll be the third time weíve had to replace them this year. But that was Spikeís fault for saying that I deserved the black eye. I didnít deserve it. And I know that he didnít do it on purpose. It just really fucks me off that heíd rather pretend that he deliberately hit me than admit that his aim was off. Daft bugger. And yeah, I have been living in England far too long.

Do we fight a lot? Sometimes. Do we have hot, passionate, kinky sex afterwards? Of course. Sex with Spike is crazy. Crazy, wild, monkey sex. I like it. But itís not why I stay.

I stay because we like the same cartoons.

I stay because he takes me to museums.

I stay because he sometimes brings me breakfast in bed. I learned early on to enjoy my toast cremated.

I stay because he confides in me.

I stay because he makes me stronger.

I stay because he sometimes lets me wear his famous leather duster

We have crazy sex, crazy fights and both have crazy taste in Japanese horror films.

I go crazy with excitement whenever he comes home.

He goes crazy with fear if Iím more than ten minutes late back from work.

Weíre crazy obsessed with each other. Yeah, itís definitely a two way thing. Craziness is infectious, you know?

Is it crazy that Iíll sit here staring at the door until he cools down and comes back home?

Is it crazy that I know heíll be back with an apology larger than his ego in exactly five minutes and forty six seconds? Maybe.

So am I crazy? Yeah, commit me Ďcos, craziness? Thy name is Xander.

Oh, here he comes! And heís bought meÖflowers?! Now, that really isÖ

The End

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