Title: A Kick From Champagne
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the characters
belong to me.
Summary: Buffy has too much to
drink one rainy night, then Spike
shows up. After an overdose of angst
last season, I had to do something
kind of silly. This is sort of early season
6, except Buffy didn't die.


Part One....


"Three hundred and sixty four days of
drought," Buffy grumbled as she struggled
to get the door unlocked while balancing a
grocery bag, her purse, the dry cleaning,
the mail, and her favorite leather jacket.
"Now, I gotta build an ark."

When she'd left to run her errands, the sky
had been a little cloudy, but she hadn't expected
it to rain.

**I have got to pick up a newspaper once in
a while**

She dropped her load on the kitchen table
and examined her jacket for water damage,
swearing under her breath, using words her
mother would have been horrified to hear come
out of her mouth.

After satisfying herself that the burgundy
leather was unharmed, she scanned the
mail and put away the groceries.

When she picked up the bag to throw it
away, she saw a piece of paper on the
table beneath it.

A note to her, written in Dawn's messy scrawl.

I knew you'd forget, so I'm leaving
this to remind you that I'm spend-
ing the night with Wil and Tara.
Please feed my cat.

Buffy smiled. Her sister really had her pegged.

She HAD forgotten about the overnight
visit. It had something to do with Dawn's
final exams, and needing Willow's math
and science brain to help her cram.

**Just as well...MY math brain couldn't get
her ready to make change at McDonalds**

Crumbling up the note, she tossed it into
the trash and then located a can of cat food
in the cupboard.

"Midnight!" she called out. "Chow's on...come
and get it while it's.." She grimaced at the
gloppy mess as it plopped into the cats food
dish, "...completely disgusting!"

As she placed the dish on the floor, the cat
strolled into the kitchen.

"Hi, kitty." Buffy watched the feline walk by
with her ' cat attitude ' going full blast, not
even acknowledging another presence in the
room. "Stupid cat," she murmured.

Her eyes widened with surprise when Midnight
turned to stare at her malevolently, as though
she knew that she was being insulted.

Buffy had never cared for cats, being
much more of a doggy lover. But, Spike had
shown up at the door one night, carrying a tiny
scrap of black kitten that he'd found on it's
own in the park.

Dawn had fallen instantly in love with the
scrawny little beast, and had begged Buffy
to let her keep it.

She'd given in without a fight. Dawn had been
so completely vulnerable at the time. Losing
the woman she thought of as her mother, find-
ing out about her own bizarre origins, and then
that mess with Glory. A mess they'd all
barely escaped from with their lives.

Squealing with delight, Dawn had thanked
Spike sweetly, then ran upstairs to fashion
a bed for the kitten out of a shoe box and an
old towel.

Buffy had turned to Spike with a pleased smile.
"That was nice of you," she'd said.

Spike, not wanting to appear to be ' nice ' in
any way, had tried to soft pedal it.

"Well," he'd shrugged. "I couldn't just let
it die, and I wasn't hungry, so..."

"Eww...yuck!" Buffy had yelped, punching
his arm and trying not to laugh.

That had been a good moment between
them, something they'd been having
more and more of. The bond that had
started to form during their 'Glory' days
had grown stronger, and she had begun
to depend on Spike...not just for help or
protection for Dawn, but for company
and friendship as well.

The others had moved into more
committed stages of their own rela-
tionships, often making Buffy feel left
out and alone.

But Spike always made sure she didn't
feel that way for long.

The more time they spent together,
the stronger the pull between got,
until it had finally reached it's nadir
one night in her living room.

He had come to the house early in
the evening, and had gone with her
on her rounds. They'd prowled around
four different cemeteries that night,
but the hunt had been unsuccessful
and they'd been back at her house
before eleven o'clock.

Dawn had been spending the night
with a friend, and Buffy hadn't felt
like being alone. It hadn't taken a
lot of effort on her part to coax Spike
into sticking around for a while.

They had watched a movie on cable,
and played with the cat, after which
Spike had produced a deck of cards
from his coat pocket and tried to teach
Buffy how to play poker.

Gingersnaps had served as chips, but
Buffy couldn't remember what beat what.
She kept showing him her cards so he
could explain what kind of hand she was
holding.

After an hour, he had gotten fed up and
refused to play anymore, telling her that
she'd never understand and suggesting
that, in the future, she stick to playing
the sort of baby games that her immature
brain could process.

Buffy had thrown her cards at him, then
started pelting him with gingersnaps. Laugh-
ing, Spike had jumped to his feet, daring her
to come and get him.

She'd accepted that dare, tackling him in
the entryway and sending them both to the
floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

The first to recover, Buffy had pounced on
him. Straddling his waist, she'd pinned his
hands to the floor and yelled for a stake. Spike
had flipped her over his head, then chased her
around the house, finally ending up in the kitchen.

Unaware that Buffy had stakes hidden in
every room, he had allowed her to corner
him.

She'd brandished the weapon in her hand, and
he had immediately fallen to his knees, hands
raised in supplication, pleading for the slayer to
spare his worthless life.

He'd offered her money, furs, jewels...anything
her heart desired. By the time he'd gotten
around to washing the dishes and bathing the
cat...two chores she detested...he'd reduced
her to a fit of child like giggles, and she'd declared
that she would be merciful.

After asking her politely to drop the stake, he
had picked her up and slung her over his
shoulder, then carried her into the living room
and dumped her on the sofa.

When Buffy had stopped laughing and
caught her breath, she had smiled at him
kneeling on the floor beside her. It had been
such a long time since she'd acted silly and
playful, and she'd enjoyed it so much that
she'd thanked him by giving in to a sudden
impulse and kissing him.

Spike had been as surprised by her
behavior as she was, but he'd recovered
quickly. Slipping one hand behind her
neck, he'd pulled her closer, deepening
the kiss.

Making soft little whimpers in her throat,
Buffy's head had begun spinning in a
mightily pleasant way. Kissing had always
been one of her favorite activities when it
came to the art of foreplay.

Whether it was slow and tender, or pas-
sionate and fierce, she enjoyed it all, and
she considered herself to be quite proficient
at it.

But, if SHE was proficient, then HE was
expert. In the hundred and twenty odd
years of his existence, Spike had learned
everything there was to know about kissing
and how to apply the knowledge in a given
situation.

Spike kissed like there was no tomorrow,
and it was obvious that he enjoyed doing
it, that it wasn't just a means to an end, but
an end in itself.

Buffy had learned THAT for the first time
during Willow's case of witchcrafty hiccups
after Oz had left town.

Whatever else you might say about Spike,
you had to give credit where it was so fan-
tastically due...he knew how to please a woman.

Buffy had been on the giving and the receiving
end of many kisses, and Spike was, hands
down, the BEST kisser she'd ever had her lips
on...bar none.

That night on her sofa, Buffy had again been
treated to a demonstration of his consid-
erable skills. She had burrowed closer, want-
ing more and more. More of his kiss...more
of his touch...more of everything.

But when she had begun tugging at him,
trying to pull him up onto the sofa, he'd bailed
out on her.

Catching her searching hands in his, he'd
held them in a firm grip while he slowly
brought her out of the kiss.

They had stared into each other's eyes
for a long moment, until Spike broke the
spell. Leaping to his feet, he'd stammered
out a strained "g'night slayer" and almost
ran from the house, leaving Buffy in a state
of arousal that she'd not felt in a very long
time.

Sleep had not come easily that night. Every
time she'd closed her eyes, all Buffy had
been able to see...was Spike. As the hours
crawled by, she'd finally come to terms with
the realization that she was damn well sick
and tired of denying her feelings, and owned
up to the mutual attraction born on that long
ago night when they'd seen each other for the
first time.

The whole of the memory was bisected into
two halves in Buffy's mind. The first half was
a little sketchy. She remembered being at
the Bronze with Willow and Xander, but
couldn't recall what she'd been wearing. She
knew that she'd done some homework, but
not what class it had been for. The three of
them had danced a little, but Buffy could not
have said what music had been playing. She'd
had something to drink, but didn't know what.

The second half of the evening, however, was
was as sharp and as clear as a freshly cut
diamond.

She'd heard the request for a phone with which
to summon the authorities to deal with an
assault going on outside...some big guy trying
to bite someone.

Reacting on instinct, Buffy had run outside to
take care of the situation herself. Forgetting
her stake, she'd yelled at Xander to move his
ass and get her one.

The vamp had been one of those cocky shits
who actually believed that THEY would be the
one to bring the slayer to her knees.

Without even breaking a sweat, she had cor-
rected that misguided notion.

But the memory that stood out clearer than
any other, had been hearing the vampire
call for help just a moment before she'd
dusted him.

Wondering just who in the hell ' Spike ' was,
she had turned at the sound of mocking ap-
plause as he'd stepped out of the shadows.

When her eyes got a message to her brain,
the first thought it had produced was 'That is
the hottest guy I have ever seen and where has
he been all my life?'

Thoughts of Angel had been briefly wiped
from her memory bank, until she knew
who...what...she was facing.

Hearing his subsequent death threat, and
knowing him to be another vampire still
hadn't doused the sizzling electrical charge
zinging back and forth between them, stun-
ning her into brief immobility.

His body was lean but strong looking, and
he moved with an inbred grace that Buffy
hadn't encountered in any other vampire.

The clothes he'd had on suited him, es-
pecially that ankle length leather coat he'd
been wearing. Unrelieved black, the only
touch of color a red shirt he'd worn loosely
tucked into his jeans.

With fair skin and white blonde hair, and
eyes so dark blue that they appeared black
as well, he was a study in contrast.

But it was his face that really commanded
her attention. Perfectly sculpted from white
marble it was, with high cheekbones, and
a well formed nose. A smart ass smile and
a scar over one eye were all that kept him
from possessing an angelic beauty.

Certainly more so than Angel's. Dearly
as she'd loved him, she'd never really gotten
that ' one with the angelic face ' descrip-
tion. He was definitely attractive, but
his features were far too blunt to be called
angelic.

All in all, Spike was an arresting sight, and
Buffy would have been willing to bet that
his game face was just as enticing.

She'd had a brief moment of "Oh, boy do I
want that!" followed by "What am I, nuts?"
and then finished with "No fair...how come
the only guys who get my motor running turn
out to be demons in sheeps clothing? What
is this...some sort of slayer test that the
stupid council thought up to make sure I'm
fighting on the right side?"

Even though it was highly unlikely that
her newest adversary would turn out to
be a good boy, she still found him sinfully
attractive and wickedly sexy.

Knowing that such feelings for a member
of the undead brigade went against every-
thing Giles has spent so much time and effort
to pound into her head, Buffy had locked
them away, burying them so deeply in
her subconscious mind that even SHE hadn't
been aware of them.

But that pull between them just would not
go away and leave her alone. In time, they
had gone from a slow simmer straight to a
full boil when Willow's dyslexic witchcraft
had betrothed them.

When the magic that had driven them to
nausea inducing displays of affection had
finally ended, they had been in the middle of
one of those ' earth shaking ' kisses she'd
been enjoying all night.

Their eyes had met in stunned silence for
an instant before they began to play out
the behavior that they thought they should,
the gagging, the wiping, and the swearing.

But that instant, that microsecond of aware-
ness had been the most shocking revelation
of her life.

Granted, she was hardly the most experienced
woman in the world, but she'd felt that brief
desire in him that wanted her to ignore everyone
else and keep doing what she'd been doing.

She had seen it in his eyes, and he must have
seen it in hers as well.

Feeling deeply guilty for inadvertently causing
the whole mess, Willow had done everything
short of tying herself to the railroad tracks and
waiting for a train.

Although her friends frequent and fervent
apologies had begun to grate on her nerves,
Buffy had never so much as hinted that the
experience hadn't been quite as harrowing as
she'd made it out to be.

A few kisses? There, there...don't beat your-
self up over it. She'd survived worse. Not to
worry.

Except...except that it hadn't been "just a
few kisses."

Stopping just short of actual intercourse,
they'd done just about everything else that
could be done.

Before the evenings festivities had kicked into
high gear, Giles had dozed off on the sofa with
a damp cloth over his sightless eyes.

Buffy had gone upstairs for a blanket to cover
her sleeping watcher, not realizing that Spike
had been right on her heels until he'd closed the
bedroom door...and pounced!

She'd gone along willingly, literally throwing
herself at him in her desire to be intimate
with her brand new fiance'.

Spike had pushed her up against the wall,
pinning her to it with his body and kissing
her until her knees began to buckle.

Before she'd realized his intent, he'd
pulled her blouse up beneath her arms,
then slipped his hands around her back
and unhooked her bra.

Touching her in all the right places, he
had covered her face and throat with
hard, wet kisses, all the while whispering
the required ' sweet nothings ' to her,
telling her how beautiful and sexy she was,
and how much he'd always wanted her.

He'd unzipped her slacks and snuck one
hand into the front of her panties, cupping
her sex and rubbing her as he'd thrust
his tongue deeply into her mouth where it
touched and played with hers.

He used his free hand to take hold of
hers and guided it down to the impressive
bulge between his legs. Her fingers had
automatically formed themselves around
the erection that was straining the front
of his very tight jeans, and he'd begged her
to take it out and touch him properly.

Staring up into his eyes, she had unbuckled
his belt and popped the top snap open. The
zipper had begun to descend on its own, forced
down by the pressure of his hard shaft.

Just as her fingers had reached to slide
inside, Giles had called out from downstairs.

The slightly panicky note in her watchers
normally measured tone, was the only thing
that had kept them from anticipating their
wedding night, right then and there.

That had been the last time they'd made
contact with any sort of sexual connotations,
until that night in her living room.

For some reason she'd never been able to
accurately pin down, neither of them had
brought up the subject of their mini make-
out session on the sofa again, and Buffy
had begun to think that she'd dreamt the
whole thing up.



TBC
(Let me know if you like it and want more)

A Kick From Champagne


Summary: Buffy has too much to drink
one rainy night, then Spike shows up.
Takes place in early season 6, except Buffy
didn't die.




Part Two....



"No dream I've ever had was that good."

Buffy turned off the kitchen light and
went upstairs. She intended to take full
advantage of her solitude by hogging every
drop of hot water in the tank.

The big question, of course, was why
Spike hadn't tried to follow up on the
kisses they'd shared. This went com-
pletely against everything she THOUGHT
she knew about him.

Maybe it was because the first time he
had tried to declare himself, she'd punched
him dead in the face.

**And as we all know, there's nothing quite
like breaking a guy's nose to encourage
amorous feelings**

Not that he hadn't deserved it. Being nailed
in the ass with a cattle prod **and just where
the hell did he lay his hands on a cattle
prod anyway?** chained to a wall, and
threatened with the loss of her vitals didn't
exactly make her want to hand over the
key to her heart.

From that day to this, Spike had never again
told her that he loved her.

He'd stood beside her during the most
horrible experience of her life...and she'd
had some pretty horrible experiences,
so that was really saying something...but he
hadn't uttered the words out loud.

And the one and only time he HAD con-
fessed his love, he hadn't even asked her
to love him in return. All he'd wanted was
for her to acknowledge the possibility that
someday...maybe...she wouldn't completely
loathe him.

It couldn't have been easy for him. A vampire
pouring his heart out to a slayer? Admitting that
he thought only of her, dreamed only of her,
and wanted no one but her.

She, true to form, had totally shot him down.
Forgetting, or pushing to the back of her
mind the kisses and touches they'd shared
mere weeks ago, she had rejected him with
violence and hateful words, capping it off by
barring him from her house.

Even then, he hadn't given up. He'd followed
her home that night, begging her to talk to
him, to give him just one chance to prove that
he'd changed.

She hadn't wanted to listen, hadn't wanted to
accept that he had any real desire to change,
or even that he COULD.

Because that would mean she had been
wrong...and she hated being wrong.

If she had admitted the possibility that
Spike had changed because of his feelings
for her, it would mean that he'd done it without
benefit of soul restoration. Left to his own
devices, all by himself, he'd made a choice.

This brought on the painful knowledge that
if Spike could choose, then Angel/Angelus
could have done the same.

But he hadn't. And he never would have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror as her
past was painfully rehashed in her mind,
understanding...maybe for the first time...that
she hadn't really rejected Spike because she'd
hated him, no matter what she'd said to the
contrary.

She'd done a fairly good job of convincing
herself of it at the time, but now she finally
had to step up to the plate and admit that
she'd actually rejected him because she was
afraid not to.

She had already loved one vampire, and it
had blown up in her face so violently that you
could hear it on the moon, causing a great
amount of pain and a double dose of danger
to her and everyone she loved.

Could she honestly risk having it all happen
again?

She shook off that disquieting train of
thought.

**Yeah, but...things are different now...SPIKE is
different now**

Angel had left her for what he considered
to be her own good.

Then, Riley had left because she'd been
unable to give him what he needed...the
whole of her heart.

Poor Riley. He'd figured out long before
she did that her feelings for him were not
all they should be, despite her heated denials.

His need for the kind of satisfaction he'd
gotten in that vampire whorehouse he'd
been frequenting, had been so strong...so
uncontrollable...that she would never have
been able to understand or fulfill it, or to
put it behind her and begin to rebuild
their relationship.

She may have forgiven, but she would never
forget.

The image of him, of what she'd caught him
doing, was so indelibly burned on her brain
that she'd feared she'd never be able to look
at him the same way again.

Angel and Riley had both left her, each for
his own reasons.

Spike would never leave her. She knew this
just as surely as she knew the earth revolved
around the sun.

He had stayed during the days when her
favorite after school activity had been playing
dodge ball with her stakes, screaming at
him to hop the noon stage out of Sunnydale
'cause the town wasn't big enough for the both
of them.

If he'd remained during that sort of treatment,
why in the world would he go now that things
were looking so delightfully up between them?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**What's his damn problem anyway? What, am
I suddenly icky or something?**

Stripped down to her bra and panties, she
studied her reflection with a critical eye.

**Nope...nobody here but us non-icky
type people**

Her hair was a pleasing shade of light
brown and honey, thick and shiny with
health. Her complexion was clear and
smooth, and her light green eyes were
large and long lashed.

Buffy's gaze wandered down her body.

There was nothing wrong with her figure
either. A fast metabolism allowed her
to eat pretty much anything she wanted
without having it show up on her hips,
or across the seat of her pants.

She turned to one side.

She had once despaired of ever
developing a more womanly shape
and size, even in spite of her mother's
assurances that the females in her
family were late bloomers.

Buffy had almost fallen for the old "late
bloomers will still be beautiful when they're
very old, while the early ones sparkle for a
while and then fizzle out" trick.

But just as she had been about to look
into the cost of breast augmention surgery,
Mother Nature had finally gotten off her ass
and done her job.

In no time at all, Buffy's breasts became
full and firm, and nicely rounded.

In the months before she'd thwarted her
most recent apocalypse, she had been in
such a stressed out state of mind that
her appetite had all but disappeared, and
she'd become dangerously thin all over.

It was nice to look in the mirror and see
that things were back where they belonged.

She examined her legs with a particularly
strong satisfaction. They were great legs,
even if she did say so herself.

Straight and strong, her legs had gotten
plenty of male admiration whenever she'd
displayed them in the ridiculously short
skirts she'd worn through most of high school.

Factor in a flat and firm abdomen, slender
hips, a small waist and...

"A pretty cute little ass, too."

...what more could any man reasonably
want?

So, why didn't Spike seem interested any-
more?

**That's a real good question**

Shedding her underwear, she padded
down the hall naked and started the
shower.

**Maybe he IS interested, but thinks I
might beat the stuffing out of him if he
acts like it**

She opened the shower door and stepped
under the hot spray. After thoroughly soak-
ing herself in it, she scrubbed her face clean
of make-up, washed and conditioned her
hair, then shaved her legs and armpits.

With the necessities completed, she applied
a glob of vanilla scented body wash on a
soft sponge.

She always smiled when she did this, ever
since she'd noticed what the creamy soap
looked like as it squirted out of the bottle.

**Oh, stop it**

Buffy worked up a fragrant lather as she
guided the sponge over her skin. Moving it
down between her breasts and over her
abdomen, she leaned against the tile as
her body relaxed and became receptive,
sensitive to the lightest touch.

She jerked when she heard the shower
door open, then gasped out loud at the
feel of a strong arm sliding around her
waist from behind.

"Slayer..."

A mere whisper in her ear. A familiar voice,
soft and low with desire.

Without thinking twice, she pressed herself
back against cool, hard muscle.

"Let me," the voice demanded, as the sponge
was taken from her hand.

"Yes," she responded breathlessly. Drop-
ping her head back, she tilted it to one
side and exposed the vulnerable flesh of
her throat with no worries.

The sponge passed over and around the
curves of her breasts, stimulating her high-
ly sensitive skin. She released a faint
whimper as the lather trickled down over
her hard nipples, falling to the shower
floor with soft plops.

There was an evil chuckle as the sponge
ceased its sensual torture.

She responded with, "Hey! Don't stop."

"Never," he promised.

The sponge continued on its merry way,
over her stomach and down her thighs.

"Open up for me, luv."

She complied with the request, but stopped
the sponge from reaching its obvious target.

"No soap down there," she said. "Down there
is a bad place for soap to go. Trust me on this."

"Sorry, sweetheart." The sponge fell to the
floor with a splat, replaced by a quickly rinsed
hand. "Better?"

"Mmm...yes. Very much better."

Her knees were getting ready to abandon ship
as she was skillfully massaged between her
thighs.

"Do you like that?" he purred. "Does it feel
good?"

"Yeah-huh," Buffy nodded. "Very good. SO
damn good."

She was nearly beyond the power of speech,
reduced to monosyllabic words.

"And...if I do this?" He found the sweet spot
with the tip of one finger, rubbing it firmly. "Or
this..."

There was sliding pressure inside of her, making
her body jerk with instant response.

The pressure left, only to return immediately.

Over and over. Faster...harder...deeper...until
she knew that she was about to....

Release hit her hard, and her head snapped
back, impacting painfully on the hard tile
wall.

"OUCH!" she yelped as her eyes flew
open. "That..." Her jaw dropped when she
saw that she was alone in the shower. "..hurt?"

She looked down, and her cheeks flamed
scarlet when she saw that the arm around
her waist was hers. Not to mention the fingers
between her legs.

"Great," she panted, rolling her eyes. "Just
perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


TBC
Comments? Complaints?

Title: A Kick From Champagne
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com

Summary: Buffy has too much to drink,
then Spike shows up.
Early season 6




Part Three....

Twisting the taps off, Buffy stepped out of
the shower and wrapped herself in a towel.

Back in her room, she dried her hair and
smoothed lotion with the same vanilla
scent as her bodywash into her skin.

After rummaging around in her dresser
for a nightgown, she pulled on an over
sized jersey that her father had once
brought home from a football game.

The garment was so big that it hung below
her knees, but it was soft from frequent
laundering, and it carried memories of
a time in her life when things were still
good between her parents and the
only thing she'd had to worry about
were her grades.

As she dropped her dirty clothes into
a hamper, her stomach growled, remind-
ing her that she hadn't eaten dinner yet.

Down in the kitchen, she stared into the
fridge, searching for something easy to
eat. She didn't feel like cooking only for
herself, so she grabbed the grape jelly,
then found a half empty jar of peanut butter
in the pantry and made herself a sandwich.

She took a bite of it and returned the jelly
to its sticky spot at the bottom of the
fridge.

About to reach for a can of orange soda,
her eye was caught by a dark green
bottle.

It was champagne that Giles had presented
her with on her twenty-first birthday. He'd
made a little speech about wanting Buffy's
first alcoholic beverage to be memorable.

A loud clearing of his throat by Xander
had caused her watcher to amend his
statement to her first 'legal' alcoholic
beverage.

Giles had advised her not to open it then,
but to chill it so she could enjoy it pro-
perly.

Buffy had stuck it in the back of the
refrigerator and promptly forgotten
that it was there.

Examining the label now, she could
tell that this stuff was expensive. She'd
seen enough wine lists in restaurants
to know that this particular brand of
champagne cost well over a hundred
dollars a bottle.

"Let's see how memorable you are."

She easily withdrew the cork, expecting
the loud 'POP', followed by the gush of
foamy liquid that she'd seen in so many
movies.

But, when all she got was a soft 'pop' and
no gush at all, she frowned.

"What..have you gone flat or something?"

Sniffing the contents of the bottle, she
felt a tingle in her nose that made her
sneeze.

She took one of her mother's good
crystal wine glasses from the cupboard
and filled it with a golden flow of liquid
that sparkled and fizzed.

Remembering her previous adventures
in drinking, she was prepared to wrinkle
her nose in distaste when she took an
experimental sip. Instead, she found
herself pleasantly surprised at the taste
of the wine.

"Good." She took a bigger sip. "VERY
good."

She drained the glass, refilled it, then
took both it and the bottle into the living
room. Pausing in front of the window, she
peered out and saw that it was raining
even harder.

Making herself comfortable on the sofa,
she took another sip of champagne.

As she began to feel giddily lightheaded,
she closed her eyes to enjoy the sen-
sation.

The sound of laughter startled her and
she sat up straight. "Dawn?"

After several seconds of silence, she
decided that she'd imagined the laugh,
and settled back into the fat cushions
of the sofa.

She finished the wine in her glass, then
grabbed the bottle and refilled it.

Holding it up in the mellow lamplight,
she watched the bubbles fizzle and
pop.

"Pretty." She admired the color as it
caught the light. "Almost too pretty to
drink."

Turning the stem of the glass between
her thumb and forefinger, she shrugged.

"Almost." She tossed back the wine
and stifled an unladylike burp.

She had a little difficulty lining up the
neck of the bottle with the rim of her glass,
and they connected with a sharp 'clink'.

"Shit..."

Another burst of giggling distracted
her. "All right...who the hell is doing
that?"

Common sense told her to stand up and
prepare to defend herself, but when she
swung her feet down to the floor, her
wobbly legs warned her not to try.

Somewhere in her half soused brain, Buffy
knew that she shouldn't drink anymore
of the champagne.

Disembodied laughter was a warning
that something bad was about to happen,
most likely to her.

How would it look if something evil showed
up to pick a fight and the slayer was
tipsy...hammered...plastered...bombed out
of her skull...three sheets to the wind and
the fourth one....

"Aw, screw it," she muttered as she
poured. "I'm not driving."

She polished off the glass in three long
swallows, vaguely trying to rationalize
her behavior.

**I opened the bottle and it's gonna go
flat and it was really expensive so I gotta
finish it else it'll be wasted and like mother
always said...waste not- waste not**

"No, that's wrong...it's waste not-what
not...yeah, thass it...no, thass not it...maybe
it's where not..it could be..is it why not..I
think that..."

She ran out of steam. "Never mind. Mother
said lots of stuff...I can't be esspected to
remember every little thing she said, now
can I?"

The invisible laugh track sounded off again.

"Okay, THASS IT!" Struggling to her feet,
dizziness suddenly swamped her, forcing her
to grab the am of the sofa to keep from falling
down. "I want to know WHO you are and
what the hell is sooo damn bunny...FUNNY!"

Her eyes darted around the room, peering
owlishly into the dim corners. "I got four
words for you...!"

She counted them on her fingers.

"Do-Not-Mess-With-Me!"

Wait a second.

She recounted each finger silently, her
lips moving.

"Okay! Okay, thass...thass actually five
words..BUT....

Putting on her meanest slayer face, she
pointed accusingly at...nothing.

..I mean every one of those four words...those
FIVE words!"

She shook her head a little, trying to clear
the haze.

"Are you looking for trouble? ARE you? Cause
ifff...you are...then you came to the right place,
bucko! I'll GIVE you trouble. Give you all
the trouble you want...cause I'm...I'm the..."

She frowned, trying to remember who she was.

"Oh! Yeah! I...am the slayer...the goddamn
chosen one. You screw with ME.. and I...will
kick..your..ASS! Thass what I do! I'm an
ass kicker!"

When no one came forward to challenge her,
Buffy flopped back down on the sofa and
smiled "Scared it off."

She picked up the champagne, carefully
lining up the bottle with the rim of her glass.

Unaware that she wasn't tipping the bottle
high enough, she was surprised to see
that her glass was only half full.

"Hmm...guess it all depends on your point
of view," she waxed philosophical, trying
to look down the neck of the bottle and
find what she wanted.

**This thing's empty...it can't be empty.
Is it? All gone...nothing there...finished
up...over and out..oh, this is stupid...it
CAN'T be empty cause I've only had**

"Uh-oh." Her eyes widened as she realized
she had absolutely no idea how many
glasses of champagne she'd swilled.

**Well, let's be logical here. I've had
enough to empty the bottle or it wouldn't
be...empty. But I don't know how many
glasses it takes to fill the bottle up in
the first place**

Trying to work through it in her mind was
making her dizzier than she already was,
so she decided not to worry about it.

"Who cares, anyway? Iss not like I'm
falling down drunk or..or something."

**That's very true...you're lying down
drunk**

"So what if I am?" she asked pugnaciously. "Iss
MY champagne." She pointed to her chest
with her thumb. "I can do whatever I want to
do...with it. I can wash the car...or..or water
plants...I can take a BATH in it if I want to."

Turning sideways on the sofa, Buffy pulled her
feet up and leaned back against the armrest.

"I'm an adult, you know!" she declared. "Over
twenny-one...and I got rights. The Consitution
of the United...America...says I do."

She pulled her nightshirt down over her knees.

"They says that I got certain inalienand...an alien
an bull..rights...I got 'em...we all got 'em.
Like...like I gotta right to an attorney...I gotta
right to make speeches free...and I gotta right to
arm bears...and I gotta right to get shitfaced
with MY birthday present."

**Not that I am...but I can if I want to**

"Oh, well," she sighed deeply. "This is
a dead soldier, soldier." She placed the
bottle on the table and saluted it.

Sliding farther down on her back, she felt
something digging into her kidneys. Send-
one hand down on a search, it came back
with the t.v. remote.

"Nice to see ya," she said. Aiming it in
the direction of where she remembered
the television being, she thumbed the
on button.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


TBC....
Comments? Please do...

A Kick From Champagne
Part 4




Five minutes after she'd switched on the television, Buffy was ready to put her foot through it.

Hundred different channels...not one thing worth watching...

She didn't have a lot of time for watching these days, but it seemed as though television had become a vast and arid wasteland of stupid game shows that made a point of insulting the contestants, reality shows that had no basis in any reality she'd ever heard of, and sitcoms so painfully un-funny that even the canned laughter was weak.

"Networks," she grumbled. "Who's running 'em anyway? Demons trying to just bore us into uncon..un...to death and take over the world, I bet. Oughta go down an sssllaayyy every one of 'em."

The picture jumped from one station to the next as she applied kept her thumb on the channel select button.

"Not even a good movie on," she continued bitching. "Cable costs an arm and both legs...and they can't show one halfway decent...whoa! "

She stopped speed dialing channels when she came across a close up of a woman's face as her mouth traced a slow path down the front of a very nicely developed male chest.

"Here we go!" she said gleefully, settling deeper into the sofa cushions to see just how nasty this movie would turn out to be.

After a few minutes, it became clear that it was your plain old, everyday, soft core porn. The kind that had lots of naked women frolicking about, while the men were only shown naked from behind, or from the waist up.

Every time the action on screen got really intense, the camera zoomed in on faces contorted with either incredible pleasure or agonizing indigestion.

"This isn't fair," Buffy informed the television. "Hows come you only show the girly naughty parts? Didju forget about the other half of the poppy..popala..the REST of us?" she demanded. " S'crimination is what THAT is!"

She wasn't interested in looking at body parts she already owned.

Still, in spite of the lame dialogue, bad acting, and cheesy music, she was finding the movie more than a little...stimulating.

The sexual acrobatics were really impressive.

These people were getting into positions that looked highly uncomfortable and difficult to maintain, and they were doing it with an enthusiastic chorus of moaning and groaning, followed by outright squealing whenever one of them crossed their personal finish line.

"Hey, cute guy!" The man onscreen had short blond hair, a face that was very easy on the eyes and, if the expression on his partner's face was any indication, must be hung like a goddamn racehorse.

The women currently riding this stud had medium blondish hair hanging halfway to her waist, and was endowed to a degree that made Buffy feel completely inadequate.

This babe was so top heavy that she had to keep her hands cupped over her own breasts as she bounced up and down...no doubt to keep from blackening both her eyes.

As the scene went on, the actors changed positions so many times that Buffy lost track of who was doing what to who.

At one point, the man rolled over and assumed the position favored by missionaries all over the world. He kept his face hidden against the side of the woman's neck, and all Buffy could see of him was the back of his blonde head and his wildly copulating ass.

Watching the performance go through its paces, she began to notice that the man and woman onscreen had a familiar look about them.

The guy sort of looked like...well, if she squinted real hard...Spike. The woman, as long as she kept her back to the camera, could have passed for herself.

"Holy cow!" What a visual!

She couldn't get it out of her head.

The harder she tried to follow the action onscreen, the further her mind wandered, until she was off in deep left field, picking daisies.

Her imagination took off at full throttle, working hard to present her with her own private little movie, playing in her own dirty little mind.

Deciding that she couldn't give her undivided attention to both things at once, she abandoned the televised porn in favor of the porn in her head.

Closing her eyes, she saw herself and the vampire she was falling in love with, lying together in a monstrous four poster bed, the kind with all the trimmings, like a swooping canopy, and silk sheets, and soft feather...

"WHAT?!" Her eyes flew open as she shot up into a sitting position.

Falling in love with? FALLING IN LOVE WITH?!

Her head was spinning like a roulette wheel, forcing her to lie down again.

Oh, no...no you don't...there is no falling being done! I can't play the Vampire Dating Game again...it's too damn much work...

But no matter how hard she tried, how firmly she denied them access, how brutally she beat them up, the images in her brain wouldn't go away and leave her alone. They just kept creeping in when she was unprepared for them.

Sneaky images..

"Oh, geez," she groaned. "I don't need this. I swear to God, I do NOT need THIS."

She rubbed her eyes with her clenched fists.

"I've gotta find a regular guy. There must be some out there...I only need one."

Maybe, if she hung a sign in the window: Wanted...regular, normal, everyday sort of guy for fun and frequent sexual encounters. No supernatural beings need apply...especially vampires. Inquire within...

Who am I kidding? Regular guys don't work for me either...

She didn't have the time or the inclination to deal with all the emotional baggage that came along with a 'regular' guy, and the regular guys out there sure as hell couldn't handle her own set of luggage.

Spike's not regular...

"Yeah...no kidding."

Spike was a lot of things. Smart mouthed, brash, usually lacking in common sense, and hot tempered.

But, he was funny and insightful, with a depth of intelligence that he didn't often get credited for.

He was also as loyal as an old dog to the people he cared about, and Buffy knew that her name, and Dawn's, were at the top of that particular list.

And he was honest and upfront with his feelings and his opinions, whether you wanted him to be or not.

Like it or lump it, Spike didn't bullshit you or tell you what you wanted to hear. His philosophy was rooted in the "tell it like it really is, bloody well deal with it, and get on with your fucking life!" school of thought.

And, of course, he was amazingly good looking, very well built, and sexy down to the marrow of his bones. A big, BIG plus for any guy!

Yes, Spike was all these things and more, but he was in no way regular, common, ordinary, garden variety, or run of the mill.

"Oh, all RIGHT" she whined. "Think about him that way..drive yourself nuts. Juss don't come crying to me when you end up in the nuthouse!"

As though it had been peeking around the corner, waiting for the opportunity, that big, beautiful bed reappeared in her mind.

Only problem was....she seemed to be alone in it.

"What the hell?"

Off to one side of her mind picture, a door opened and her dream guy stepped into the scene.

"Thass more like it!"

Dream-Spike approached the bed like a big old jungle cat padding towards a trapped bunny rabbit. He reached out with one hand and whipped the satin comforter right off of Dream-Buffy.

Oooh...he's rough...that can be fun...

Dream-Buffy sat up and held out her arms. With a toe curling growl, Dream-Spike leapt onto the bed and reached for the hem of a white satin and lace nightgown that Dream-Buffy was conveniently wearing, even though RealBuffy didn't own anything even remotely like it.

The gown came up and off, and DreamSpike began to kiss and fondle and caress every inch of Dream-Buffy's naked, panting body, whispering in her ear, telling her all the things a girl liked to hear at a moment like this.

"You're so beautiful, luv...so soft and warm. I want you...I've wanted you from the second I saw you..forgot every other girl in the world but you."

Now, THIS is the way to make a sexy movie...pay attention Hollywood..

Dream-Spike rose to his knees, bringing Dream-Buffy along with him, and she began to help him shed clothing that came off with surprising ease. It seemed to melt away beneath her touch, with no buttons, snaps, zippers, laces, or velcro to fumble around with.

Dream-Buffy, who was a LOT more uninhibited than her real life counterpart, began to explore Dream-Spike's body, her fingers gliding over hard muscle and smooth skin.

Dream-Spike was no slouch either. He returned her touches enthusiastically, caressing and kissing the most private places of Dream-Buffy's body, his tongue lingering on her breasts and between her thighs.

God...he knows what I like. How the hell does he know that? I've certainly never told him what I like to do in..

"Oh, for God's sake! Who CARES how he knows?" Dream-Buffy said irritably. "He just KNOWS! Now shut up and quit distracting him!"

Sorry...

Dream-Spike moved to lie on top of DreamBuffy. He positions himself and begins to thrust. She takes him all the way inside her, deep and hard. In and out. Slowly...then faster...harder...then faster still.

Their voices vibrate with their pleasure as they moan and cry out for more. She digs her nails into his shoulders, begging him not to stop...not to EVER stop...because it feels so good...so perfect...the way their bodies fit together so wonderfully, as though they'd been specially fashioned for each other...and anybody who came before was nothing but a cheap imitation.

He pounds in harder, burying his face in her hair, telling her that her scent makes his head spin, makes him wild with the sort of desire you can only feel with a true soul mate. He promises to never stop loving her, wanting her, fucking her.

His head comes up and he orders her to arch her back, to raise her breast to his mouth so he can taste it...suckle it. He tells her how warm it is, how sweet it tastes, how much he loves the feel of her nipple hardening in his mouth, beneath the lash of his tongue.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, guiding his mouth to her other breast, hissing in his ear to suck it harder because she feels the pull in her loins every time he does and it's so good and she wants more and more.

Suddenly, he pulls away from her. She wants to scream in protest, but he gives her no chance as he turns her over and pulls back on her hips until she's on her hands and knees.

He reaches down and reestablishes their connection, then begins to thrust, driving her back up that steep incline she'd almost crested moments ago.

Draping himself over her back, he rests his palms flat on the bed, nuzzling the back of her neck, asking her if she likes this, likes what he's doing now. With a snarky grin, he places his lips against her ear and releases a playful bark.

She smiles and rears back, returning the pressure. Balancing on one hand, she reaches down to play with herself, but he pushes her hand away, telling her that it's his job to do that, to make her come, that no one else is allowed to touch when he's down there.

His own fingers come around front of her and take over, finding her clit and rubbing it hard, squeezing it gently as his shaft invades and retreats, over and over, until she's screaming for him to finish, to do it, to make her come hard, the way no other lover ever had or ever will.

His hips begin pistoning in harder and faster, and he releases soft grunts every time he goes in all the way, the muscles of his ass working as he pumps into her, his sack impacting lightly against her own little bottom.

Orgasm hits them simultaneously, making them scream until their throats must surely be raw.

Her knees give out when he collapses on top of her, his own strength completely drained away. He holds his weight off her as best he can, by resting on his forearms. He covers the back of her neck with kisses and whispers "I love you..."

Dream-Buffy smiles. "I love you too. So much..."

Oh, my God! That was just...WAIT! NO! I don't ...no love...I DON'T love!..

Dream-Buffy sighs. "Oh, yes you do."

I do not! I don't want to love!

"Yeah...right."

I mean it! It's too much work. I ain't interested

"Ah, don't be daft, luv," Dream-Spike said, turning to look at her as though she was standing beside the bed. "Everyone wants to love and be loved. People...slayers..." He grinned. "Even a few vampires. It's the natural order of things."

"Love makes the world go round," Dream-Buffy interjected.

Dream-Spike nodded. "All you need is love."

Stop that!

"Love is a many splendourous thing," he added.

"Splendored," Dream-Buffy corrected.

He shook his head. "No such word."

Knock it off!

"Really?"

"Check the Websters, babe."

"Later."

Stop talking to each other like I'm not here...

Dream-Spike looked at her again. "Look, luv, point is...at the end of the day, love's the only thing worth fightin for. So, if you find it, you gotta grab on and hold tight to it, cause you might not ever find it again."

Dream-Buffy sighed. "That was beautiful."

He grinned. "Yeah. I read it in a Hallmark card at the grocery."

Okay, shut up! Both of you. I'm telling you I don't want to be in love!

"Then what DO you want, Pet?"

Sex. Meaningless, no strings attached, check your emotions at the door...sex.

Dream-Buffy snickered. "Liar."

"Please!" Dream-Spike added. "If THAT was true, I'd have been in your knickers a long time ago."

I BEG your pardon?

"Beg all you want, you know I'm right." He winked at her. "You been hot for me since day one, Slayer. Same way I've been for you."

Oh, no I...for me? Really?

"Uh-huh. The second I saw that cute little ass of yours bouncing around, I wanted my hands all over it."

But you tried to KILL me!

"Yeah, well...I'm a vampire. Doesn't mean I didn't want to nail your arse to the nearest available mattress."

"Okay, enough small talk," Dream-Buffy interrupted testily. "I want to get MY arse nailed to THIS mattress again." She pushed Dream-Spike over onto is back, then rolled on top of him, glancing at Buffy. "You can watch, if you want to."

Okay, YOU have been spending way too much time with Anya..

Title: A Kick From Champagne
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com


(AN: This is a short chapter, but the next
will be up soon.)



Part Five....


She opened her eyes and tried to stand,
but the champagne buzz was really kicking
in now, forcing her to surrender.

**All right, FINE! I'll stay here until the
room stops spinning, but THAT'S IT! **

She sprawled sloppily on the sofa.

**Probably be here for days...**

Turning her head , she spotted the empty
bottle on the coffee table.

"This is YOUR fault," she groused at
it. "And will you two give it a rest?"

The couple on the screen just moaned
louder.

The remote was on the table next to
the bottle, an innocent bystander.
Buffy punched the off button so
hard that the batteries popped out.

She closed her eyes tightly again, trying
to force herself to think about some-
thing...anything...except the irritatingly
arrogant, thoroughly sexy blood
sucking fiend who knew exactly how
to push every last one of her buttons.

Barging into her life, turning it ass
end up, making her rethink all her
preconceived notions about how
things were supposed to be.

**Think about something else. Some-
thing completely off topic...like
shopping! The blue dress in Macy's.
Dark blue with a glittery sparkle, the
color of the sky right before the sun
goes down, the color of his eyes. Deep
blue and they sparkle when he teases
me and he tries to make me blush...**

"Bad topic. No blue eyed vampires."

**Was that Karen Sutherland I saw at
the market? My alphabetical order
partner in school. I didn't like her. She
was one of the 'Cordelia' clones, a
member of her rat pack, and they were
all so mean to Willow. Picking on her,
making fun of her clothes and I wanted
to sucker punch every last one of them
dead in the face. Boom! Light's out. There
was Karen and Crystal and Harmony,
and I hated Harmony most of all. Stuck
up and stupid, my GOD was she stupid.
Even after she was turned, she was the
same nitwiit she'd always been. Grabbing
MY sister...shacking up with MY vam-
pire.**

"Shit!"

**Calculus, physics, biology, geography.
Stuff I have no use for at all. Food in the
cafeteria wasn't worth eating most of the
time. Drinking fountains never worked
right. You either had to french kiss the
thing to get a drink, or it shot a jet
spray right up your nose. Ugly paint
on the walls, ugly in the hallways. Every
shade from nile to bile, and we fought
in the hall right outside Beginning Spa-
nish. He scared me, almost took me
out of the game. Good fighter. Strong..the
best I'd ever been up against, and it
kind of turned me on**

Mentally throwing in the towel, Buffy
surrendered.

**Where's a white flag when you need one?**

She couldn't do it, couldn't NOT think
about Spike.

If someone was holding her at gun point
and ordering her not to think about him, she'd
be shot right between the eyes.

"Millions of men all over the world. Why am
I so hung up on this one?"

**Because, he's...he's just...oh, he really is..**

"He isn't the only game in town."

**Maybe, but he plays the game better than
any of them**

"Yeah...he's a player."

**Well, I want to play too! It's MY turn,
dammit. He likes to play...I want to
play...why shouldn't we play with each
other?**

The mystery giggle once again made it's
presence known.

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped, flinging
a throw pillow across the room. "I'm
trying to think!"

**I'm unattached...he's unattached..he'd
BETTER be unattached...I'm over
21...he's WAY over 21...I'm not bad
to look at...he's...**

"Too hot looking for his own damn good."

**Beautiful face. Muscles. Barely controlled
energy. A smile that could charm an angry
wolverine. Put 'em all together and they
spell....**

"Spike!" she said brightly.

"What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC.....

(Don't hit me! The next chapter is on its way)

Title: A Kick From Champagne
Author:Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Summary: A dark and stormy night.
Buffy has too much to drink. Spike
shows up....




Part Six.....



Buffy felt her entire body turn bright red. Grab-
bing another pillow, she quickly covered her
face with it.

"Spike?" she squeaked, her voice muffled.

"That's right." He sounded amused.

"Uh...I...hello!"

"Buffy...are you all right?"

Hearing his approach, she clutched the
pillow tighter. "Uh-huh."

Spike knelt beside the sofa. "Buffy?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing?" He tugged at the
pillow, but she held on.

"Oh, you know...nothing much. Just
sitting around relaxing."

"With a pillow over your face?" He tugged
harder. "How relaxing can THAT be?"

"Well, it works for me. I'm...HEY!" Spike
finally wrestled the pillow out of her clutches,
tossing it across the room. "That was rude!"

"THAT was rude?" he responded in dis-
belief. "And is it perfect etiquette to keep
a pillow over your face when someone comes
to call, Miss Manners?"

Buffy watched in silence as his eyes found
the champagne bottle with the empty
glass next to it.

A smart ass grin slowly formed all over
his handsome face. "Well, well...what's
this then?" He picked up the bottle and
examined the label. "This is the good
stuff, luv," he informed her. "Did you enjoy
it?"

She sat up and snatched the bottle out of
his hand. "Yes. S'matter of fact, I did!" She
was surprised to hear the sloshing sound
of liquid. Not bothering with the glass, she
raised the bottle to her lips.

Her aim was slightly askew, and a few drops
of the champagne ran down her chin, making
her giggle. "Oops."

Spike just shook his head and smiled, making
an obvious effort to contain outright laughter.

Buffy wiped her face on the back of her
sleeve. "Wasso funny?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. You feel-
ing all right, honey?"

"Yup," she replied cheerily. "I feel great. Just
peachy." She tossed her hair back and gave
him her prettiest smile. "How's bout you?"

Spike cleared his throat. "Fine, thanks." He
pried the empty bottle out of her hand and
set it back down on the coffee table, then
stood up and removed his coat, tossing into
over the back of an armchair.

"So, where's Dawn tonight?" he asked, sit-
ting on the sofa next to Buffy.

"Where's Dawn tonight?" she echoed. "Dawn
is...well, she's..I think...Dawn?"

"Yes. Dawn." He waved one hand in front
of her eyes and she tilted back slightly,
trying to focus on it. "Your sister. Fifteen
years old...long brown hair...nice smile...ring
any bells?"

"Yeah, sure," Buffy nodded, almost cross-
eyed. She blinked hard and tried to look
serious. "Absolutely. You're right about that."

Spike waited for her to continue. After thirty
seconds of silence, he prompted, "Well...?"

Buffy frowned, trying to remember what he'd
said. "Well...what?"

He raised his voice. "Where is she?"

"Don't yell at me!" She drew her knees up under
her chin and glared at him.

Spike modified his tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean
to yell. Where's Dawn tonight?"

"She's..." Buffy concentrated, "...spending the
night will Willow and Tara. They're cramming."

"Doing WHAT?"

"Stud-dee-ing," she enunciated clearly. "There's
final ezams coming up, ya know. Verrry important."

"Final ezams, huh?"

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Tests.
Jeez, didn't you go to school back when you
weren't.." she hiccuped "...dead?"

"Yes," he said. "I went to school back when
I wasn't dead." He smiled at her, his eyes
soft with amusement. "God, this is adorable."

"What is?" she asked brightly. "Me?"

"Yes." Spike nodded. "You...like this."

"Like this?" Her brow furrowed. "Like what?"

"Baby," he leaned in close. "You are very
cute...and a little drunk."

"I am NOT!" Buffy pulled back, offended.
She shook her head in vigorous denial, then
held one hand over her eyes until the room
stopped spinning. "Ohh.."

"Buffy...sweetheart," Spike said patiently. "I've
been around for a long time now, and I've
seen enough drunks to know one when it
falls on the floor in front of me." She tried
to stand up and he grabbed her hand. "Which
is exactly what you're about to do...sit down."

"No," she replied fractiously. "I don't feel like
sitting down." She tried to pull her hand out
of his.

Spike shrugged. "Fine," he replied, releasing
his grip. "But don't expect me to pick you
up when you fall on your....

Buffy stood, swayed, and fell to the floor
in a graceless heap.

"...face." Contrary to his words, he gathered
her up and placed her back on the sofa. "Are
you all right?"

"I'm FINE" she said irritably. "Quit asking me
that. I just...just didn't eat much today so I'm
a teensy bit dizzy is all."

Spike frowned. "You mean you haven't had
any dinner?"

"Oh, of course I did," Buffy said, "when I
got home before...I did...really!"

He looked at her doubtfully, then went into
the kitchen to see for himself. He was back in
less than five seconds, holding her forgotten
sandwich in two fingers as though the bread
was ticking a countdown.

"THIS?" he demanded. "This is your idea
of dinner?"

"It's food," she said defensively. "Any food
you eat at dinnertime is...dinner!"

"Buffy..." he shook his head, not believing
what he was hearing. "You ate ONE bite.
One bite isn't dinner. It's not even an
appetizer."

He tossed the sandwich into the waste
basket, and sat back down beside her.

"No wonder this hit you like a freight
train." He brushed her hair out of her
eyes.

She enjoyed his touch so much that
she tilted a little to follow it, seemingly
unaware of what she was doing.

Spike caught her arm and straightened
her up. "Never drink to excess on an
empty tummy, sweetheart."

That sounded reasonable and he was so damn
cute that she nodded agreeably. "Gotcha." She
glanced at the window. "Hey, look! It stopped
raining."

His gaze followed her and he nodded. "For
the moment."

There was something she was supposed
to do...something she should already
have done, but she hadn't because of the
rain. "I should probably go out and..."

"Go out and what?" Spike asked. "Go out
and...patrol?" He stared at her in horror. "Is
THAT what you're trying to say?"

"That's it!" she said, snapping her fin-
gers. "Thank you."

She began to stand up, but he pushed
her back down.

"Are you suddenly INSANE, as well as
drunk?!" he shouted. "You can't stand up
straight. Hell, you can't even SIT up
straight." He shook his head. "You wouldn't
last five minutes out there. Forget it!"

Buffy felt all melty and sugary inside. He was
worried about her. How cute was THAT?

"You're so sweet to worry," she crooned,
patting his cheek. "But I'm really A-OK. A
little fresh air s'all I need, and I'll be fine."

She stood up slowly, trying to remain steady
on her feet.

Spike stood up as well. "No, you won't be
fine...you'll be DINNER!" He planted himself
in front of her, blocking her path. "You might as
well paint a bullseye on your chest while you're
at it!"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply to that silly
comment, but was cut off when Spike leaned
in close and glared into her eyes. "Sit...down!"
he grated through clenched teeth.

Buffy returned his steady gaze defiantly, at
first, then slowly lowered herself back down to
the sofa.

Seated once again, her nerve deserted her
entirely, and she dropped her eyes and grum-
bled, "This is stupid...I am perfly able to do my
job."

"Is that so?" Spike asked. Sitting beside her,
he placed one finger in the center of her chest
and gave her a nudge that wouldn't have unseated
a three hour old kitten.

"HEY!" Buffy squealed as she lost her ba-
lance. Pinwheeling her arms to try and steady
herself, she did a backwards somersault and
crashed to the floor. "Ow!"

"Still feeling 'perfly' able, luv?" Spike asked
casually.

"When I get back up there," she muttered,
rolling onto her hands and knees, "you're
gonna pay."

He watched her struggle to regain her feet
with a huge smile on his face.

"Yeah," he said. "I can see that. You gonna
give me a head start before you come after
me?"

"Oh, shuddup," Buffy said. "Think you're so
damn smart."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm not the one crawling
around on the floor," he said. "Although, I
must admit, you're very appealing in that
position."

Buffy's head jerked up and she stared at him,
wondering if she'd heard him properly. "Whatta
ya mean by that?"

"You know what I mean," Spike said, his voice
dropping into a lower register. "On your hands
and knees like that. Makes the mind reel with
possibilities and.." He winked at her. "..naughty
thoughts."

"Okay, wait a minute." It had been a while since
she'd had a suggestive remark aimed at her,
but she still recognized one when she heard it.

Climbing back up on the sofa, she crawled on
her hands and knees down to the other end
until she was nose to nose with him. "Are you
kidding me?"

He smiled tenderly, and tucked a lock of her
hair behind one ear. "Course not, baby."

She sat back on her heels, tilting her
head. "Are you flirting with me?" she asked
suspiciously. "How come?"

"Don't you know?"

"Would I ask, if I knew?"

Spike trailed one finger over the curve of her
cheek. "Maybe because you're so pretty?" he
suggested.

Buffy held her breath, waiting for him to con-
tinue. After thirty seconds, she couldn't hold
her tongue. "That's IT?"

"No!" he laughed. "That's not IT!" Taking hold
of her arms, he pulled her forward into his
lap. "You know I'm crazy about you, luv."

"You are?" she gulped. "Really?"

Spike nodded. "Really."

"Ohhh," Buffy sighed. "Thass so...no! Wait!" The
smile disappeared from her face. "If..if you're sooo
crazy 'bout me then...then why've you been
avoying me?"

"Why have I been doing WHAT?"

"You been avoy...a...not touching me! Ever
since that night when...when we..."

"I remember, baby," he assured. "God, do I
remember."

"Yeah! And...and ever since then...nothing! Not
a word or...or nothing! Zip!" She struggled
slightly in his hands. "I was starting to think
that I'm icky or something."

Spike took a firmer grip on her arms and
pulled her closer. "Don't you EVER think a
thing like that!" he said fiercely. "There's no-
thing wrong with you, baby. You're perfect from
top to bottom." One hand slid lightly down her
back and caressed her rear. "And your bottom is
especially cute."

"THAT'S what I said!" she pouted.

"No, no...don't do that." He groaned softly. "Not
with the face. You know I can't take it."

"I dunno WHAT you mean," she replied airily,
knowing exactly what he meant.

"Oh, don't you?"

"No, I...HEY!" she yelped when he turned
her in his arms, keeping her on his lap, but
facing away from him.

He pulled her back until she was reclining
against his chest. "You know damn well what
I mean, pouty," he whispered in her ear. "When-
ever you make that face at me, you're just beg-
ging for it."

Buffy didn't know what was making her more
light headed, the alcohol she'd consumed, or
the tone in Spike's voice, or the feel of his
mouth as he placed light kisses on the side of
her neck.

"God, baby...you smell so good," he said,
rubbing his cheek against her hair. "What is
that?"

Buffy's eyelids lost their mooring and drifted
shut. "What...does it smell like?"

He took another sniff. "Coconut?"

"Shampoo," she said, giggling when he
tickled her ear.

"And...lemons?"

She nodded. "Conditioner."

He moved further down, nuzzling her cheek.

"Peaches...no, apricots."

"Fash...fisha...the stuff I wash my face with."

"Is that what makes it so soft?" he asked. Lift-
ing her hand, he kissed the inside of her wrist.
"This one's easy...vanilla."

Buffy brought her free hand up to cup his
cheek. "D'ya like it?"

"Do I LIKE it?" he asked, charmed by her
flirty demeanor. "Baby...you're dessert."

She tilted her head back to look into his
eyes. "Are you hungry?"

Before he could answer, she heard the
laughter that had been plaguing her all
evening.

"Did you hear that?" she asked in a whisper,
not wanting to alert the giggler.

"Hear what, sweetheart?" he asked,
kissing the side of her face and her ear. "All
I hear is you."

"No, not me. Not me." She sat up and
looked around the room. "That laughing.
Someone laughed."

She placed one finger to her lips. "I
think we gots a.." She wasn't even going
to try and say poltergeist. "..ghost. A ghost
that laughs."

Turning on his lap to face him, she found
him looking at her as though she'd changed
colors. "What?"

"That was you."

Buffy looked confused. "Who was me?"

"The ghost that laughed," he said.

She stared at him for a moment, then smiled.

"Spike...don't tease me. S' not nice."

"I'm not teasing you, luv," he reported ser-
iously. "That was you laughing, and if you've
been hearing it all night and thinking it was
someone else.." He sighed. "Then you're
even drunker than I thought you were."

Buffy was losing interest in the discussion and
wanted to go back to the previous topic.

"Whatever," she shrugged. Turning around again,
she tilted her head and offered him access to
her throat. She sighed softly, snuggling back
into his arms. "You were saying?"

Spike hesitated, groping for some semblance
of self control. "I think it's time for bed."

"I think so too!" She sat up in his lap, smiling
brightly.

He helped her stand, then placed his hands
on her shoulders and looked her in the
eye. "Time for YOU to go to bed," he amended.

"Yeah!" she said eagerly. "I heard you the
first time."

He made no reply, but just looked at her.

Slowly divining his intent, she gasped out
loud. "You mean...you don't mean...by
myself?"

"By yourself." he confirmed.

"But...but thass a TERRIBLE idea," Buffy com-
plained loudly. "Thass the worst idea I ever
heard!"

"Maybe," Spike said, turning her and gently
urging her towards the stairs. "But it's a safer
one."

She dug in her heels. "Safer for who?" she
whined.

"Safer for me. I don't even want to think about
you might do after you sober up and remember
what happened."

Buffy smiled. She could fix this!

Turning to face him, she placed her arms
around his neck. "Oh, come on," she said,
rubbing against him kittenishly.

Spike grabbed her hips, holding her lower
body away from his. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Buffy asked sweetly. "Don't
do this?" Thrusting herself forward, she made
intimate contact.

"Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. "That
would be the thing to not do, luv."

"If you say so." Locking her arms more firmly
around his neck, she bent her knees a little,
the jumped straight up into the air. "Catch!"

As though the movements had been choreo-
graphed specially for them, Spike slipped
his hands under her bottom as she wrapped
her legs around his waist.

Before he could utter a sound, she lunged
forward and kissed him.

Unable to resist, his hands moved caressingly
up and down her back, molding her upper body
against his.

They kissed feverishly, exploring each others
mouth with their tongues, until Buffy was
forced to break away for oxygen

"Take me upstairs," she panted. "Take me...."

The sensation of her warm breath on his skin
nearly destroyed any resolve he had, but her
words pulled him out of the erotic miasma he
was drowning in.

"Buffy...baby, listen to me. You have to stop
now."

Setting her firmly on her feet, Spike untangled
himself from her embrace.

"Please don't misunderstand," he said earnestly,
looking into her expressive green eyes. "I want
you. You have no idea how badly I want you..how
long I've waited."

"The wait's over now," she said happily. "Just
take me upstairs."

"No."

Buffy shrugged. "Okay!" Her hands moved to
unbutton his shirt. "Right here is good, too."

Spike closed his eyes, shaking his head in
self disgust. "Christ," he muttered. "I don't
BELIEVE I'm saying this."

"Well join the club!" she said peevishly.

He opened his eyes and gazed down into
hers. They were wide, and dark with desire.
Her hair was mussed, her lips moist and
a little swollen from being kissed so
hard.

She almost looked like she'd already been
made love to, passionately and thoroughly.

"Oh, God help me," he groaned, picking
her up in his arms and carrying her up
the stairs.

Buffy's room was illuminated only by the
light of a moon that was just beginning to
emerge from behind a bank of storm clouds.

As Spike placed her on the bed, urging her
to lie back into the pillows, Buffy reached
for him.

Knowing that if she touched him he was
lost, he took hold of her seeking hands and
held them firmly.

"Spike," Buffy whispered, "I want you to make
love to me."

"And I WANT to make love to you," he said,
steeling himself. "But...not like this. I can't
take advantage of..."

"Yes, you can!" Buffy interjected impatient-
ly. "You can take as much advantage as you
want. Just help yourself. I got lots more. I'm
loaded with advantage!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "You're loaded all
right." She opened her mouth to reply,
but he clapped one hand over it. "I can't
take advantage of a helpless girl."

"Thince when?" Buffy glared at him, her
voice muffled by his hand.

"Since tonight, it seems." Smiling ruefully,
he took his hand off her mouth. "Can you
feature that? Turns out I still got a few ethics
left."

"Congratulations," Buffy grumbled with
a scowl. "I'm real happy for you, but you
picked a lousy time to discover them."

"I agree," he said, kissing each small
hand. "Listen, sweetheart...you get some
sleep. You're gonna need it. Champagne
has a hell of a kick, specially if you're
not used to it."

"Spike..."

He let go of her hands and reached for a
quilt at the foot of the bed, covering
her with it. "In the morning," he added,
tucking her in like a sleepy child, "Take
some aspirin and have some weak tea and
crackers if your tummy's upset. Try to eat
anything else and I promise you'll be sorry."

"But, I..."

"I'm gonna go now and kick my ass all the
way home," he said, avoiding her seeking
hands. "Be a good little girl, and I'll come
see you tomorrow night."

As he turned to leave, Buffy rolled over
in bed and wrapped her arms around her
pillow. "All right," she said, trying to pro-
ject a false sincerity. "I'll be good. I'll
stay right here."

She looked over her shoulder at him
with innocent eyes. "I promise. You can
go now. Bye-bye."

Smiling to herself, she faced the
opposite wall again. She counted to
fifteen, then looked back at him. "Why
are you still here?"

Spike narrowed his eyes slightly. "You won't
do anything stupid...like go out and play with
vampires...will you?"

"No!" she said, a litle too quickly. "You were
right. I shouldn't go out slaying when I've
been drinking. There's lots of really dangerous
things out there. They're allllll over the place.
Dangerous."

She rolled back over to face him. "Besides,"
added, giving him her sweetest smile, "You
know I always try and do what you tell me."

Spike studied her carefully, trying to gauge
her intent. "I think you're bluffing," he said.
"But, I can't take a chance on it....

Buffy's eyes sparkled as she reclined back
into the pillows, patting the empty place
beside her invitingly.

"....so I'll be downstairs."

"SPIKE!" She popped back up like a broken
jack in the box. "I swear to GOD, if you walk
out that door and leave me then you may as
well just keep going and start a new life some-
where else, because I'll NEVER let you back
in. I'll revoke your invitation so fast you
won't know what hit you!"

"Buffy..."

"I mean it, Spike!." She pointed one finger
at him threateningly. "I'll have Willow double
bar this house with a whammy so strong it'll
bounce you into the next time zone!"

He lifted his hands in surrender. "All right. I'll
stay here. Settle down."

Sitting down beside her, he pulled off his
boots and dropped them next to the bed.

He leaned back against the headboard, arms
folded across his chest. "Bossy little brat."

In spite of his words, his tone of voice was
amused and affectionate, and Buffy's de-
meanor did an immediate about face.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll be good."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I'm sure."

Buffy sighed. "I mean it. I won't touch any-
thing that you don't want me to touch."

"That's the problem, luv. There IS nothing I
don't want you to touch."

"Okay, then I won't touch unless you ask me
to," she promised, certain that in less than
five minutes she would have him begging her
to touch.

"That's good to know." Spike reached over
and switched off the lamp on her nightstand.
"Now go to sleep."

"No kiss goodnight?" Buffy pouted, sliding
down until she was stretched out on her back.

Spike leaned over. "You just LIVE to torture
me, don't you?" he asked, brushing her lips
with a brotherly kiss. "Goodnight."

Buffy caught him. Wrapping him in her
embrace, she parted her lips beneath his.

A soft moan came from deep in his throat
as he slipped his arms around her and
pulled her snugly against him.

She took this as a sign of surrender, and
returned the kiss with passionate intent.

As he rolled over on top of her, her head
began swimming once again, making her
dizzy.

Her lashes were suddenly too heavy to
keep open, and the last thing she was clearly
aware of was a voice husky with desire,
murmuring in her ear, over and over.

"I love you, Buffy...I love you...love
you...love...."



TBC....

Part Seven.......



It was raining again. She could hear it
spattering on the window pane in hard
bursts, like handfuls of gravel. It sound-
ed cold and unfriendly, and Buffy was
glad she didn't have to go out in it.

She snuggled down deeper into her
pillow and was beginning to drift back
to sleep when a crack of thunder went
off like automatic weapons fire.

"Oh!" She shot straight up in bed,
clapping her hands over her ears to muffle
the noise, and was instantly sorry for it
when a jolt of pain sliced through her
head. "Oww!"

Clutching her head, she rocked back and
forth. "Somebody kill me," she moaned.
"Please..."

"Poor baby."

Buffy turned her head slowly, trying to
keep it from tumbling off her shoulders,
and stared wild eyed at the man lying
beside her.

"Oh...you...oh, gosh." Her voice sounded
squeaky and pathetic in her ears. "Oh, my god."

"I'll get you some aspirin," Spike said
soothingly, beginning to climb out of the
bed.

Buffy stared at his bare chest in dis-
belief. If his chest was bare...then surely
other parts of him were in the same con-
dition. "No! Don't...just don't...move."

He looked at her, concerned. "Do you feel
sick, sweetheart? You need to....?" He
gestured towards the bathroom.

"I...my head hurts," she whimpered.

"I know it does," he said sympathe-
tically. "Let me get you something for it."

"Spike...wait." Buffy laced her fingers
together nervously. "Did we...um...DID
we?"

He gave her that slow, sexy smile that
he was so terribly good at. "What do YOU
think?"

"Oh...oh, God." She stared at him, glassy-
eyed. "Oh, no..."

The smile immediately left his face. "Buffy,
you...God, you look horrified. You really
didn't want..." There was a slight catch in
his voice, and he cleared his throat to cover
it up. "I'm sorry."

He turned away from her, his eyes wandering
around the room, looking at everything but
her. A muffled sob drew his attention back
to her face.

She was biting her lower lip, her eyes shim-
mering with tears.

"Fabulous," he muttered. "I've actually made
you cry."

Buffy was visibly struggling to control her
emotions. "It's just that...I didn't want it to
be that way...between us."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that." Leaning
over the bed, Spike grabbed his shirt off the
floor.

"Please, don't be mad."

He shook his head. "I'm not mad." Two
diamond bright tears traced a slow path
down her cheeks, and he sighed heavily.
"Don't cry about it, Buffy. We didn't..."

"I can't help it," she cut him off. "I'm a
terrible person."

"No, you're not..."

"But I AM" she insisted. "I'm horrible. Just
look at what I've done." She flailed her arms
around the bed. "The first time we make
love...and I can't remember it!"

Giving up the fight, she burst into noisy tears
and covered her face with her hands.

Spike stared at her in shock. "Is THAT what
you're upset about? That you can't remember
it?"

"Of course I'm upset about it," she sobbed. "That
should be a beautiful memory...and I ruined it.
I-I got drunk..and I passed out and I just...just
ruined it!"

"Sweetheart, no," he reached for her. "Listen..."

Buffy turned over in bed and buried her tear
streaked face in the pillow. "I'm sorry," she
whimpered. "I'm sorry..."

Spike took hold of her and gathered her into
his lap. "Don't cry, Buffy," he begged. "I
can't stand it when you cry." He cupped her
chin and lifted her face. "Everything's all right,
I promise."

"No, it's not." She jerked her face out of his
hand and hid it against his shoulder.

"Stop crying, baby." Wrapping his arms tightly
around her, he rocked her a little on his lap,
hushing her like a tired child as he stroked
her hair. "Come on, now. You're gonna make
yourself sick."

When she finally settled down, he tilted her
face up. "That's my girl," he smiled at her,
brushing the tears from her cheeks.

Laying her head on his shoulder, Buffy sat
quietly in his lap, an occasional sniffle the
only testimony to her emotional upheaval.

When he felt that she was completely calm, he
said, "I'm sorry, baby...this whole thing was
my fault...yes it was," he added when she
shook her head in denial. "We didn't make
love last night. The only thing we did in this
bed was sleep."

Raising her head, she stared at him with a
confused expression. "Really?"

"Yes. Really," he confirmed. "I shouldn't
have teased you about it...and I'm sorry."
He pressed a gentle kiss against her fore-
head. "Will you forgive me?" he coaxed.

"Yes," she nodded. "But...aren't you.." She
gestured at his bare chest, with a blush
that completely charmed him.

"No, I'm not," he chuckled, lifting the quilt
to show her that he still had his pants on.
"I just took off my shirt...so I could feel you
next to my skin," he admitted.

"Oh..." Buffy sighed with relief. "Then I
didn't miss anything?"

"Nothing important, honey," he assured
her, maneuvering them both back down
on the bed, keeping her close.

They laid together, without speaking,
listening to the rain and thunder pound
the little house.

Spike watched as Buffy went back to
sleep. When he was sure he wouldn't
disturb her, he eased her out of his
arms and climbed carefully out of bed.

Grabbing his shirt and boots off the
floor, he finished dressing in the bath-
room, then searched the medicine cabinet
for a bottle of aspirin.

Downstairs in the kitchen, he made a phone
call, found some blank paper, and sat at
the table to write a brief note.

A few minutes later, when he heard Buffy
get out of bed and go into the bathroom,
he made her a cup of tea, then took it and
the aspirin upstairs and left it on her bed-
side table. The note, he placed on her
pillow.

Donning his coat, he stepped out into the
cold morning air, uncaring of the rain and
grateful for the lack of sunshine.

Looking back up at Buffy's bedroom
window, he smiled and threw her an unseen
kiss, them climbed into his car and drove
away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Buffy yawned and rolled over in bed without
opening her eyes, searching for the solid com-
fort of Spike's body, but finding only a pillow.

Frowning, she lifted her head a little and looked
around the room. "Spike?"

Bracing herself for a nasty pain in her head,
she sat up slowly. Surprisingly, it had scaled
down from a screaming blast to a low grade
throbbing ache. Not a lot of fun, but bearable.

Crawling out of bed, she went into the bathroom,
massaging her temples.

The glare from the overhead light seemed
painfully brighter than it usually did, and the
reflection she saw in the mirror was truly
frightening.

Her hair was a tangled mess, her skin was
pasty, her eyes were gluey with sleep, and she
was fairly certain that her breath could stop a
charging rhino.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied," she said,
glaring at herself. "You're getting exactly what
you asked for."

After taking care of her most urgent need,
she ran the water in the sink until it warmed
up, then washed her face and brushed her teeth
twice. She couldn't bear the thought of applying
a brush to her hair, possibly making her head
ache even more than it already did, so she
settled for smoothing it as well as she could
with her hands.

When she returned to her room, she saw the
tea and aspirin waiting for her. Smiling, she
went back to the door and called Spike's name.

Buffy knew that if he'd been in the house he'd
have answered her, so she climbed back into
bed and propped herself against the headboard,
then reached for the tea. It was still warm, and
lightly sweetened, and she sipped it gratefully.

She picked up the note, and her lips curved into
a smile as she read it.


Good morning, Sunshine...
I know that you're probably
not feeling very well right now.
You rest and be good to
yourself today. Remember,
crackers or some dry toast if
your tummy's upset.

I called Willow and arranged for
Little Bit to stay another night.

Be my good girl, and I'll come
see you tonight...and we'll make
that beautiful memory together.

All my love....
Your (former) worst enemy



Buffy read the note twice, then folded it and
placed it in the drawer of her night stand.

"He loves me," she sighed, sliding down in
bed. "And tonight, he's gonna show me how
much."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The showery day passed quietly. She called
Dawn, and then Giles, informing him that she
thought she might be coming down with a
cold and didn't feel up to patroling that night.

A manufactured cough or two lent credence
to her story, and he didn't argue with her or
scold her for blowing off her responsibility.

Since there were no new disasters looming
on the horizon, Giles encouraged her to stay
in that night, reading her a veritable laundry
list of possible remedies that she might employ
in treating the virus.

Buffy listened patiently, rolling her eyes and
shifting from foot to foot. Giles could never
just say something like "starve a cold and feed
a fever". If there was a stuffier way of saying
a thing, her watcher would find it.

Before he hung up, he mentioned that tonight
he would locate Xander, and possibly Spike,
and the three of them would take a brief swing
through her route.

Buffy encouraged him to do just that, knowing
that he might be able to locate Xander, but
Spike would definitely be unavailable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She spent most of the afternoon napping on
the sofa, wrapped snugly in her mother's hand
knitted afghan.

When she woke up, it was almost 5:00, and
she felt ten times better than she had that
morning.

It wasn't fully sundown yet, but the rain clouds still
darkened the sky and she knew he would be there
soon.

She threw off the blanket and ran upstairs,
feeling silly and excited, like a teenage girl
waiting for the captain of the football team to
show up at the door.

In the shower, she washed and conditioned
her hair again, then scrubbed her skin until
it was pink and glowing with health.

She finished by shaving her legs again,
wanting them to be smooth and touchable.

After drying off, she rifled through her closet,
searching for something to wear.

Spike was a bit of a sensualist, a tactile
creature, and he enjoyed the feel of silky
soft fabrics beneath his fingers.

Rejecting one outfit after another, she suddenly
remembered the pink silk pajamas she'd
been given on her nineteenth birthday.

She only hesitated a moment before she
took them out of her lingerie drawer. Pa-
jamas seemed a little forward, but she
pushed that thought firmly away.

This evening was going in one direction.
She knew it and so did Spike. Why not
be a little forward?

**Why not be a LOT forward while I'm
it?**

Pleased with her choice, she dried and
curled her hair, then applied light makeup.

A blush of pink on her cheeks, rose tinted
lipgloss on her mouth, and a soft taupe
shadow emphasizing the color of her eyes.

She finished with a few strokes of mascara.

Pleased with the results, she slipped on the
pajamas. Soft and flowing, they felt sinfully
good moving on her bare skin as she walked
downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy fiddled with the knobs on the gas
fireplace until she had it blazing cheerily.

Ater dimming the lamplight, there was
nothing left to do but wait.

She sat cross-leged on the floor in
front of the fireplace, staring into the
flames.

Tonight was a turning point. Every-
thing would be different from here on
out.

Spike would be a part of her life in a
whole new way...and she was ready
for it.

She'd missed having a man in her life,
someone to hold her, maybe even take
care of HER once in a while, instead
of the other way around.

And Spike was the right man. He was
right for her in a way that no other
man had ever been.

With Angel, it had all SEEMED so right.
He had known her for who and what
she was. He'd been perfect for her.

So she'd thought...

When their relationship had taken its
natural course into physical intimacy,
her life and her love had turned into
a nightmare right before her eyes.

With his soul lost once again, Angel
had reverted back into the vicious and
violent animal he'd been for more than
two centuries.

Everything in him that had been
beautiful and good, had become evil
and ugly overnight.

By the time she'd condemned him to
hell, he had driven her nearly to the
point of insanity.

When he'd come back to her, his
soul had been restored, his memory
wiped clean of his attrocities...and she'd
known then that they were doomed.

The knowledge had been so painful that
she'd buried it deeply in her psyche, so
deeply that her conscious mind hadn't
been aware of it.

SHE had tried, and HE had tried, but
in the end there was nothing for them
to hold onto.

They couldn't be close without eventually
giving in to temptation.

And she could never...EVER ...let
that happen again.

Angel had been the first one to bring
their problems out into the open. He had
quietly made his plans, then turned his
back and walked away, smashing her
heart into a thousand and one pieces
on his way out.

The only thing that had gotten her
through the pain had been the mundane
chores of day to day living, her friends,
and her responsibility as the slayer.

High school was over, and college
was ahead of her. She'd pinned her
hopes on the future, and left her
childhood behind forever.

In college, she'd still been dumb
enough to think that all things were
possible, even for her.

She'd dated one or two guys, but
they'd aroused no more in her than a
mild interest, easily forgotten.

Then, the "Parker" incident had oc-
curred, one of her more spectacular
errors in judgement.

His good looks and charm, combined
with what turned out to be phony sen-
sitivity, had made her an easy target.

She had allowed him to seduce her in
an indecently short period of time, then
gotten exactly what she'd deserved the
next morning.

The memory of it was still enough to make
her squirm with embarassment.

When Riley Finn came into her life, she
had been at her lowest point relationship-
wise.

Although she'd felt an immediate attraction
to him, she'd learned the hard way not to
rush into anything.

Riley had been sweet and caring, and
she'd liked him before she'd loved him.

He was the closest thing she'd ever
had to a "regular" guy, and once again,
she had allowed herself to hope.

By the time she'd realized just how
"unregular" he was, it was too late to
turn back. She'd cared too much.

As it had been wih Angel, everything
had been good in the beginning.

They went to movies, parties, the
beach, and just had fun together.

Then, like clockwork, all the other
weirdness of her life began hacking
away at them.

His inolvement with the Initiative, Pro-
fessor Walsh's betrayal and the revelation
of what she'd done to him, the "Adam"
horror show...all guaranteed to blow them
right out of the water.

After it was over, and Riley's health
had been restored, things had never been
the same between them.

Her mother had gotten sick, Dawn
had come into their lives, and Buffy
had begun to push him away.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she had
withdrawn. She hadn't realized it was
happening, but Riley had, and he
simply couldn't deal with it.

The death blow had been struck on the
night she'd seen him sitting in a filthy,
broken down vampire's lair, being fed
on by the skankiest looking female vam-
pire that Buffy had ever seen,

Being fed on...encouraging it...getting off
on it. It had been a disgusting sight.

Her feet nailed to the floor, she'd stood
and stared in horror. Wanting to scream,
but unable to, she'd felt the bile rising
in her throat to choke her.

When Riley had come out of his stupor
and saw her standing there, he had
tried to get to her. But she had already
turned to run as fast and far as she
could, afraid that if he managed to
touch her...she would kill him.

In one last ditch effort to repair their
relationship, Riley had announced
that he'd been asked to rejoin his
unit in some jungle on the other side
of the planet, leaving Sunnydale..and
her...behind forever.

Unless SHE stopped him, of course.

It was up to her, he had told her, to
keep him from getting on that helicop-
ter and flying out of her life for good.

It had been a lightly veiled threat,
implying that if she didn't say right
then and there what he wanted to
hear...then he would go, allowing
her no opportunity to deal with it
once she'd calmed down from the
initial shock.

This ultimatum, and the not-so-
subtle pressure it had brought to
bear, had infuriated her and she
had refused to give in to it.

Xander had been the one to convince
her that she shouldn't let Riley just
walk away.

She'd ran after him, but when she'd
arrived, the helicopter had already
taken off.

Riley hadn't looked back once.

She had stared up at the sky long
after the lights of the aircraft had
faded away.

It was over, and she'd had to try and
pick up the pieces of her broken
heart...again.

Spike had been a fairly constant pre-
sence in her life, and a pain in her ass
of heroic proportions, throughout the
course of her botched up romances.

He'd first come to Sunnydale hauling
his half dead and totally insane vampire
girlfriend along with him, searching
for a way to restore her to her former
strength.

Oh, and he'd come to kill the slayer as
well.

Their mutual hatred of each other had set
the stage for some of the most difficult
fights either of them had ever been involved
with, and which neither of them ever won.

But as much as he'd hated her, his hate of
Angel ran far deeper.

When Angel's soul had still been intact,
Spike had hated him for allying himself with
the slayer.

After he'd returned to their vampire family,
Spike's hate for Angel had grown by leaps
and bounds.

Resentment of the way Angel had walked
in and taken over, as if nothing had ever
come between them, had tormented Spike
night and day.

Gradually, he came to despise everything
about his sire. The assumption that he and
Drusilla would just fall into line behind them
and follow his orders, no matter how loony
they were, and Angel's constant taunting
of Spike's ability, or lack of it, to satisfy Dru-
silla while stuck in a wheelchair, had been
bad enough.

But the thing that had pushed him over the
edge had been the way Drusilla gave herself
completely to Angel.

She'd done anything he'd asked of her, whether
it was crawling into his bed, or plotting to
to send the entire world to hell in a hand-
basket.

So, he'd come to find the slayer with an offer
of truce, promising to help her destroy Angel
in exchange for safe pasage out of town.

Against her better judgement, Buffy had
accepted the offer, and had condemned
Angel to the hell he'd planned for the entire
world.

Spike had kept his promise and taken
Drusilla out of the country, but the damage
had been done, and he'd never managed to
make her forget Angel.

They'd been in South America when the
final break up had played out.

When it was truly over, he'd returned to
Sunnydale without thinking twice.

Which had been a mistake.

The Initiative had bagged him and tagged
him, stopping him in his tracks.

Buffy's relationship with Spike had taken
a turn for the surreal, changing from bitter
enemies, to uneasy allies, to reluctant
friends, with an always present undercurrent
of physical attraction buzzing between them.

And, tonight, they were going to take the
final steps in the dance they'd been per-
forming for so long, and start a brand new
one.

There was going to be a future with Spike. He
wasn't the "love 'em and leave 'em" type. Once
they started down this road, there would be no
turning back.

Buffy felt a wave of shivery anticipation wash
over her.

She had forgotten how good it felt when this
point in a romance arrived. When you knew
that you wanted someone more than anything,
and that they wanted you just as badly.

The moment when you woke up to the fact
that, without knowing when it had happen-
ed, you had fallen in love.

And she WAS in love. She knew it now, as
surely as she knew anything. These feelings
were far too deep to be anything less.

Everything pointed to it.

The desire to make herself look as pretty
as she could when she knew she'd be
seeing him; to wear something in his
favorite color or do her hair in a way he
liked; the agony of watching time crawl
by as she waited for him to show up,
and the worry that simmered in her when
he was late.

And there was the jealousy that swamped
her whenever he talked about his years with
Drusilla, even in the most offhand way.

But Drusilla wasn't the only one to stir up
Buffy's inner green eyed monster.

She'd been out in public with Spike plenty
of times, and had seen the looks on the
faces of nearly every woman that walked
by them.

Although this irritated her, it didn't surprise
her. A woman would have to be blind, deaf,
and stupid not to be instantly attracted to
Spike.

He oozed sex appeal from every pore.

His beautifully sculpted face and penetrating
eyes, the hard muscle and instinctive grace
of his body, combined with his cocky attitude
and sexy accent, was a lethal combination
designed to drive a girl wild.

He certainly was driving HER that way
lately. Another sign that she was in
love...the intensity of her "I want him and
I want him right NOW!" feelings.

The only thing that still concerned her was
whether or not they'd be accepted as a
couple by the others.

Everyone had adjusted long ago to Spike
being a part of their team. This didn't mean,
however, that they'd adjust to a romantic
relationship between the slayer and another
vampire.

She knew Dawn would have no problem
with it. She adored Spike, considering him
an honorary big brother.

As far as Dawn was concerned, Spike could
move in tomorrow.

**Now, THERE'S something to think about. Get-
ting him out of that dark, moldy crypt and into
someplace civilized...like my bedroom**

She intended to spend a lot of time with Spike,
and she wasn't about to do it in some hole
in the ground, no matter how well furnished it
might be.

Willow would probably be okay with Spike
being Buffy's significant other. She knew
what it was like to be in love with some-
one...different, and even though Oz was
no longer a part of her life, there was still
a great deal of affection between them.

And, Willow was the type of person who
wanted everyone around her to be as happy
as she was.

Buffy was far more worried about Giles'
and Xander's reaction.

Even though they had come to an under-
standing with Spike, Buffy was afraid
that they would always see him as a
demon, first and foremost. A vampire
with no redemptive soul, no matter
how worthy he might turn out to be.

But at the same time, they seemed to
realize that Spike wasn't going to go away.

They acknowledged it, came to terms with
it, and even managed to accept it with
good grace...most of the time.

Still, she knew that their accepting him as
a friend or, as Xander put it, a member of
her posse, did in no way guarantee their
acceptance of him as a love interest for
her.

In the drama that was her life, Giles and Xander
had permanently cast Spike in the role of
supporting player, NOT leading man.

They might not go disgruntled postal worker
on her, but they WOULD disapprove, and
she'd always had an irrational fear of that
disapproval.

But sitting here now, for the first time, the thought
of that disapproval didn't upset her or scare her.

It irked her.

**Let them disapprove. I'm all grown up now and
I deserve to be happy just as much as THEY
do. Spike makes me happy and that should be
enough for them**

Life was just too damn short not to wring every
ounce of happiness out of it that you could.

Her life in particular was chock-full of danger and
the constant threat of sudden death.

She couldn't afford to turn down any opportunities.

"This is MY life! And I'm gonna spend every day
of it with the...the man I love."

There. She'd finally said it, and the sky wasn't
falling...the earth wasn't splitting in two...and
they weren't being plunged into nuclear winter.

"I love him...I love Spike...Spike is the man
I love..."

She tried the words on for size, and they
sounded damn good.

"I--AM--IN--LOVE!"

At that moment, as though it had been planned
that way, she heard Spike's car pull into the
driveway. "Now THAT'S timing!"

She flew across the room to the mirror at
the bottom of the stairs to see how she looked.

She wasn't surprised to see that, ap-
pearance aside, she looked happy. Com-
pletely.

The front door opened, and she turned with
a smile to greet her future as he walked into the
room.



TBC....next chapter: the payoff!

Part Eight...

Spike closed the door behind him, smiling
when he saw Buffy standing there, waiting
for him.

His eyes looked up and down her small
body in a caress she could almost feel.

"Well, hello baby," he said softly. "Don't
you look pretty tonight?"

"Thank you," she replied sweetly, returning
his smile. "And best of all," she moved forward
a couple of steps, "completely sober."

He held out his arms to her, bringing her
forward momentum to a halt when she saw
a familiar looking green bottle in one hand.

"What...what's that for?" she stammered,
pointing at the bottle. "Why...why did you..."

Realizing she sounded like an idiot, her
voice trailed off as she began to back away.

**What the hell...now he WANTS to get me
drunk??**

"This is a special night," he said, pacing
slowly towards her. "I think we should
celebrate."

He backed her into the wall, then turned the
bottle over with all the flourish of a wine steward
in a five star restaurant, letting her see the
label.

"Sparkling cider," he announced. "For the little
girl who can't hold her liquor."

Buffy laughed in relief and delight. "I believe
that would be me," she said, throwing her
arms around his neck and pulling until he
lowered his head and kissed her.

When she pulled back, she took hold of
his hand. "Let's sit by the fire," she
suggested, towing him along behind her.

Spike set the bottle on the coffee table,
shed his coat and joined her on the floor.

Buffy couldn't help noticing that he looked
damn good himself. He was wearing his
usual black denim pants, the tight pair
she liked best because they were snug and
left absolutely nothing to a girl's imagination.

He'd traded the t-shirt for a black,
button down tucked into his trousers. He'd
left the top three fastenings undone, and
her fingers itched to start working on the
rest of them.

"How are you feeling, luv?"

"A lot better than I did this morning."

"You didn't get sick did you?" he asked,
brushing her hair back."

"No...but I had the mother of all head-
aches," she confessed.

"Poor little girl," he consoled her, still
stroking her hair.

Buffy shrugged. "I slept most of the day
and it was gone when I woke up."

"Glad to hear it, sweetheart." He reached
for her, easing her into his lap. "Did I tell you
how pretty you look?" he asked, running
his hands up and down her silk clad arms,
fingering the soft material. "This is nice."

"Actually, you did." She turned in his lap
until she was straddling his thighs, her
bare feet planted on the floor behind
him. "But don't let me stop you from saying
it again. It's not the kind of thing a girl
gets tired of hearing."

He took her hands and placed them on
his shoulders. "It's not kind of thing I'll
ever get tired of saying."

Sliding his fingers into her hair, he
leaned closer and tilted her head
slightly as he began to lightly kiss
and nuzzle the side of her face.

When his lips were barely touching
hers, he whispered, "Open your
mouth."

Buffy parted her lips, allowing
his tongue to slip in and find hers.

As the kiss lengthened and deepened,
she made a soft sound in her throat.

Spike heard the breathy little sigh she
made, and turned her in his arms, lower-
ing her to the floor and stretching out
beside her, all without losing contact
with her mouth.

He began working on the tiny buttons of
her pajama top, then left the delicious
heat of her mouth to blaze a trail of
kisses on every inch of skin he ex-
posed.

When he had all the buttons undone,
he slipped his hand under the pink
silk, stroking the soft flesh of her sto-
mach.

Buffy impatiently yanked the top open,
baring her breasts to his admiring eyes.

Arching her back, she offered heself.

"Beautiful," he murmured.

She placed one hand on the back of
his neck to guide him where she wanted
him to go.

"Please," she begged softly.

He dipped his head, leaving hot, wet
kisses on her breasts.

Buffy inhaled sharply, and he looked
up at her. "Harder?"

"Mm-hmm."

He increased the pressure, moving his
mouth back and forth from one soft
mound to the other.

"Do you like that?" he whispered against
her skin. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," Buffy said, squirming a little
beneath him. "But..."

"But what, baby?" he teased.

She looked into his eyes. "Your
mouth," she demanded. "Use your
tongue."

Her heated gaze burned into his.

"Do you want me to lick them?"
he asked, flicking his tongue over
her nipples.

"Yeah," she moaned. "Do that."

Rising to his knees, he brought her
up with him. He put his hands on each
side of her breasts and pushed
them together, creating a tempting
cleavage.

Buffy's head dropped back as his
tongue glided wetly over her nipples.

"Yes," she hissed. "More."

"More?" he asked. "You want me to
suck them?"

Buffy's heart lurched in her chest when
he closed his lips around one hard peak,
suckling it as his tongue drew circles
around it in his mouth.

In a matter of moments, Spike reduced
her to a panting, writhing armful of sexual
energy.

"God, you taste good," he said, lifting
his head as he squeezed and fondled
her warm breasts, sweeping his thumbs
over both nipples. "Such a pretty girl."

Moving one hand down to her rear, he
nudged her lower body up against his,
grinding his erection against her.

Buffy returned the pressure, and it was
his turn to gasp.

She cupped his face in her hands. "You
aren't gonna make a run for it if I ask you
to take me upstairs, are you?"

He stood up and pulled her to her feet,
then picked her up and carried her
to her bedroom.

Buffy laughed as she was unceremoniously
tossed on her bed. She sat up, beckoning
him with one finger.

When he was standing at the foot of the bed,
she scooted down and began to work at his
belt buckle as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Between the two of them, he was undressed
in record time. Placing one knee on the bed,
he removed her top, then pushed her down
onto her back.

He pulled her pajama bottoms down and off,
tossing them onto the ever increasing pile of
clothes on the floor.

As he crawled up her body, Buffy looked
down and her eyes got bigger when she
saw what he had for her.

She felt a churning in her insides.

"See...that's what you do to me," he
said. "From the second I first saw
you. No girl ever made me so hard,
so quickly."

She tried to move her hand down and
take hold of him, but he eluded her.

"Not yet," he chided, moving back down
her body. "There are things I need to do
first."

He parted her legs, then settled his head
between her thighs and licked her hard,
from bottom to top.

Her entire body strained upwards, until
the only part of her touching the mattress
was the back of her head and her heels.

The pleasure was so intense that it could
quite easily become pain, but he never
let that happen.

Buffy's eyes were hazy with one sen-
sation after another as he tongued her
thoroughly.

She lifted herself, leaning on her elbows
as she looked down to watch what he
was doing.

Her eyes locked with his as he worked
over her, lashing her with rough strokes
of his tongue, then pushing it deeply inside
of her, moving it around.

When he began to thrust it in and out
of her, mimicking intercourse, her hips
began to rise and fall, matching his
rhythm.

It was only seconds before orgasm ex-
ploded through her body, making it tremble
and jerk.

He continued licking her, bringing her
down gently, drinking every bit of the
juices her body was producing so
copiously.

She arched and twisted in his hands,
and he finally allowed her to escape his
grasp.

Spike sat up between her splayed thighs,
wiping his face and smiling. "You look com-
pletely debauched," he informed her.

Buffy opened her eyes and smiled back
at him. "I do?"

"You do," he said. "Like a rose that's
been thoroughly plucked."

Her smile widened. "Thoroughly what?"

"Plucked," he repeated clearly.

"Oh," she giggled. "I thought you said..."

"No. Not yet." Sliding his hands beneath
her legs, he pulled her towards him as
he sat back on his heels. "But soon."

Buffy sucked in a deep breath and held
it as he rubbed the head of his shaft against
her opening, teasing her with it.

She sat up a little and pushed his hand
away. "I want to do that."

He gave her a pleased look and gave
way.

His hips jerked a little at this first touch,
and he groaned softly, stroking her thighs.

"You must like this," Buffy said with a
naughty smile. Drops of semen appeared
from the slit in the tip of his cock, and she
used her thumb to smear them back into his
achingly rigid member.

"Oh, I do," he assured her. "Even more...because
you're doing it...ahh, fuck...Buffy...I've wanted
this for so long...wanted to feel your hands on
me, those little baby fingers wrapped around
my cock...so warm and so soft...squeezing
it...sliding up and down...just pumping me
faster...and..."

Buffy studied the steely rod in her hand. "It's
so hard."

He chuckled. "It works better when it's hard."

Another bead of semen oozed out and she wiped
it away with her finger, then looked him right
in the eye and licked it off.

Spike's jaw clenched as he concentrated on
not coming right then and there. It was probably
the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"Mmm...Buffy. Your sweet mouth...I want it on
me...on my cock," he whispered. "Please,
baby? Please do it...for me..."

She urged him down on his back, moving
into a comfortable position. His erection
jerked in her hand as she placed a kiss on
the tip, her tongue probing the cleft.

Dragging her tongue up and down the
hard column, she teased him with a light
touch.

He raised his upper body into the same
position she'd been in moments ago,
watching with an avid gaze.

"Come on, baby," he pleaded. "Do it...suck
me...ahh...yeah...like that...a little harder...oh,
yeah...that's good...ahh fuck, baby...you're
amazing..."

This verbal foreplay was arousing Buffy
as much as her mouh on his cock was
arousing Spike.

None of the three lovers she'd had ever
said such things to her. She'd heard en-
dearments, and vows of love, and lavish
compliments, but never this raw and
explicit commentary.

Spike, though, seemed to be fluent in
this new language. He was so good
at it that just his words alone were
causing fresh wetness to flow from her
sex.

Unable to maintain the position, he dropped
back on the bed. His eyes closed, and he
immediately tangled his fingers in her hair,
helping her slide up and down on his cock.

"Oh, yeah...oh, God...Buffy...that's my
girl...let me...fuck your mouth...so good,
baby...perfect..."

When she felt his sac tightening, he
made her stop, pulling her up and rolling
her onto her back.

Without hesitating, she spread her legs
wide as he moved on top of her and reached
down to position himself.

She took in a deep breath when she felt
the slow tightness of his penetration. It
had been a long time since she'd had a
man, and although her body and his mouth
had provided the necessary lubrication, she
still felt stretched.

Spike eased into her a little at a time, his
eyes shut tightly as he held on to the con-
trol he'd mustered up from somewhere inside
of him.

When he was completely buried in her, he
opened his eyes and looked down at her.

"Buffy," he said in a strained voice. "Am I
hurting you, baby? Tell me if I am."

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she assured
him, placing her hands on his hips to keep
him from moving. "Just be still for a second."

He smiled at her. "Let me help." Shifting
his weight to one arm, he touched her lips
with his finger. "Open your mouth, babe."

Buffy obeyed, and he slid his finger between
her lips. She took it eagerly, licking and
sucking on it until it was wet.

Afraid that her sucking might set him off,
he removed his finger and sent it down
to the place where their bodies had merged.

Easily finding what he was looking for, he
rubbed his wet finger against it.

Buffy nearly screamed at the intensity of the
pleasure. Sliding her own hands down and
around, she dug her nails into his ass and
shut her eyes.

Her body released another flood of slick
fluid, and she moaned softly in his ear,
begging him.

"That's good...that's just lovely...I'm ready
for you...go on...yes...yes..."

He watched her expressive features as he
began to thrust, slowly...slowly...in...then
back out, almost all the way...then in again.

"Fuck...fuck...baby, you're so tight...so
wet and tight around me...I can feel you
squeezing my cum out of me...make it
tighter...fuck me back, Buffy...fuck me..."

Her hips began to rise and fall, compli-
menting his rythmn, matching him thrust
for thrust.

"Deeper," she moaned. "Go in deeper...oh,
please...feels so good and I'm so close...I
want it...do it, Spike...give it to me...all of
you...I want all of you..."

"Buffy..." he choked out. "Take it, baby...take
it all...s'all for you...for your sweet little
pussy..."

"Unh...uhn...uhn..." Buffy grunted with each
slam of his pelvis.

He moved one hand beneath her, then lifted
her lower body, holding it in place as he moved
faster.

Bending his head, he took one breast in his
mouth and sucked hard, feeling the delicious
contraction of her sex with every pull.

When he sensed the beginning of her climax,
he redoubled his efforts, pounding into her
with primal force.

Taking his mouth from her breast, he
rasped, "Open your eyes, baby...I want to
see them when...you...come..."

Her lashes fluttered open, and she met his
lust filled gaze with hers. "Kiss me," she
entreated.

Spike lowered his head and covered her
mouth with his, his tongue searching for
hers, wanting to play.

She caught it in her mouth, then sucked on it
as hard as she could.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes wide as
he stared at her.

"Baby...I'm gonna come...can't stop..."

"Don't stop," she said, her head thrashing
on the pillow. "Never stop...never, never,
never..."

With a snarl that would have sent most people
running for the nearest plane, train, or auto-
mobile out of town, Spike began the rapid
thrusts that would trigger his ejaculation.

"You ready, girl?" he whispered in a tortured
voice. "Ready to come?"

Buffy dug her nails into his back, almost
hard enough to draw blood. "I'm...yes...I'm
ready...unh... now...now...now...yes...do
it...now...now..NOW...NOWWWW...yes, so
good...ahhh..."

The moment before his own release, he saw
her eyes briefly lose focus with the force of
her orgasm. Pumping faster than ever, he
rammed himself in.

"Yes, baby...do it...do it with me...that's
right...my baby...my sweetest little baby.."

His body locked up, straining as he came harder
than he'd ever done before, filling her to over-
flowing, his semen spewing into her.

As his seed left his body, all of his strength
went with it, and he collapsed into Buffy's
arms.

She held him tightly against her, petting him,
stroking the back of his neck and his tight
shoulders, telling him how much he'd pleased
her..how wonderful he'd made her feel...that it
had never been so good before.

Spike raised his head and smiled at her. "You're
mine, now, Buffy.

"Yes," she replied happily. "And YOU'RE mine."

"That's right." He buried his face in her fragrant
hair. "All yours, baby...."

They laid together in contented silence, until
she gently nudged him.

"Spike...?"

"You want me to get off?"

"No...no, you're fine right here. It's just that
I couldn't help noticing..."

He lifted his head. "Noticing what, honey?"

Buffy blushed a little. "You're...you're still...ready."

Spike grinned. "Didn't I ever tell you about that?"

Her eyes widened, becoming as round as silver
dollars. "I'm almost positive you didn't."

"Well," he said modestly. "Let me explain. You see,
luv...vampires..."

He leaned down and began whispering in her ear.

"Really?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm."

She was silent for a moment, considering
what he'd said.

"THAT many times, huh?"

He nodded. "Bare minimum. Now, personally,
I've never tried for MORE than that, but
if you want to take a shot at it..."

"Hold it, Romeo," she said, pushing him
back a little. "I may be the slayer, but I'm
still only human."

"Meaning?" he asked, his eyes dancing
with laughter.

"MEANING...let's start with half that amount
and see how it goes."

"I guess I can live with that," he said, rolling
over until she was stretched out on top
of him.

Buffy sighed. "I only hope I can."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


An hour later...

"Are you asleep?"

"No. Who wants to waste time sleep-
ing?" Spike tightened his arms, keeping
her close.

"There's something I need to tell you. I
know I...well, I should have told you before
but..."

He raised his head. "Is it something terrible
that I'm not gonna want to hear?"

"No!" She frowned. "I mean..I don't THINK
so..."

"Then tell me, sweetheart," he prompted.

**Say it...don't be such a coward. HE said
it to YOU...now you damn well say it back!!**

She took a deep breath. "I love you..I know
I should have said it before...and I don't really
have an excuse...I just..."

He opened his mouth to say something, but
she pressed one finger against his lips.

"Wait...let me say this." He nodded, and she
moved her hand to caress the side of his face.
"I love you. You're all I think about...all I dream
about. You're in my gut...you're in my
throat...and you fill up my heart." She leaned
down and touched her lips lightly to his,
then closed her eyes and whispered, "I'm
drowning in you..."

After a long kiss, she pulled back and smiled
shyly. "Please don't say all those mean things
that I said to YOU."

Spike was staring at her in amazement. "I can't
believe you remember that. God...you were so
mad at me."

"I know," she said, hiding her face against
his shoulder. "But I never forgot it...that's gotta
count for something, right?"

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "It
counts for everything, baby." Placing one
finger under her chin, he made her look at him.
"Thank you for saying it."

"Thank you," wasn't exactly the response she'd
been hoping to hear. Something like, "I love you,
too," or "I can't live without you" Either of those
would be better than "Gee, thanks."

"So," she said, trying to sound casual. "Do
YOU still love ME?"

"More than ever," he said, giving her hair a
gently tug.

She waited for more. "But do you still respect
me?"

"Well...no, but..."

"WHAT?" she yelped, pummeling his chest
as he laughed. "Very funny."

He caught her fists and held her off. "Don't
beat up the man who loves you, Slayer."

"Then don't give me smart mouth...VAMPIRE!"

"How about this kind of mouth?" he asked,
pulling her down and kissing her senseless.

"Oh, that's much better," she panted when
he released her. "Kissy mouth is much nicer
than smart mouth."

He fondled her hair. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Someday," he said, smiling in a slightly
evil manner, "I'm going to ply you with cham-
pagne and we're gonna do last night all over
again."

"Oh, we are, huh?"

"Yes. BUT...next time, I'm gonna take every
bit of that advantage you so charmingly offered
me."

"Do you mean to say that I won't have to
force myself on you?"

He rolled her over in bed, until she was
beneath him. "In fact," he said. "I believe
I'll take a little of that advantage right now."

"Take as much as you want," she offered. "For
you, I have an endless supply."

Outside, the rain began to fall.


THE END

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