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Authors Chapter Notes:
Italics=internal monologue.

Thanks to everyone who voted for this story at the Sunny D Awards!! It came in Runner Up for Best Alt Universe, Best TV Crossover & Best Comedy!! Teehee!!


Spike leaned back in Giles’ bathtub, the chains surrounding him digging into his ribs. In vain, he tried to focus on the blaring television in front of him and curled under his leather duster, attempting to find some comfort.

“Bugger this. Bloody Scoobies…bloody Watcher…bloody….”

Buffy burst into the bathroom, a disheveled mess. Spike smirked.

“…Slayer.”

“God! I can’t take this anymore, Spike!”

Buffy sauntered over to the small television they had to set up to keep Spike occupied, and turned the volume down.

“Oi!”

“Oh, like you really need to watch that stupid show. All they do is repeat the same lines over and over and never get any real point across. It’s a show full of filler. I don’t know how you can stand watching it.”

“Well you wouldn’t get it, would you, Slayer?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s interesting; the storylines, yeah? You wouldn’t be able to pay attention, pet, I’ve seen how fidgety you get trying to watch a movie. Just wish you could see why I enjoy it.”

A burst of smoke clouded the bathroom, and a pale blue, bearded, and four-horned demon smiled at Spike.

“Wish granted.”

Swirls of purple lights and rose petals fell around Buffy and the now unchained Spike. As they floated through the purple nothingness, Buffy frowned at Spike.

“Great. What’d you do now?”

Before he had a moment to answer, he felt the solidity of the ground as they crashed down upon it in a heap. Squinting his eyes in the brightness of the day, Spike took a moment to realize he was in direct sunlight. He screamed and hid under his duster.

“What the…bloody hell, Slayer, help me!”

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Correct my if I’m wrong, but you’re not on fire, Spike. Unfortunately.”

“Glad to see you’re alright too, pet.”

Looking at his hands and confirming he was indeed, fire free, Spike came back out of his duster, however cautiously. He smiled and gazed up at the bright sun. Buffy’s normally cold heart was briefly touched by his reaction to the light he hadn’t enjoyed in over a century. She looked around as Spike enjoyed his newfound freedom, surveying that they were in a small garden. It was far too chilly for her tastes.

Where the hell are we? Mmm….God Spike looks good in the sunlight. No…bad Buffy. Bad, bad…ohhhh so sexy.

Buffy smiled as he continued to languish in the sunlight. She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a shrill voice from behind them.

“Ethan! What are you doing with her?”

The tall blonde woman pulled on Spike’s arm, knocking him from his contented daze. He growled at her, trying, and failing, to shift into his vampiric face. Enraged at his flaccid fangs, Spike turned his back to the woman, and grabbed Buffy’s shoulder, his eyes panicked.

“I can’t vamp out, Buffy.”

Buffy shrugged.

“Oh well. Probably stage fright. Do they make vampire Viagara?”

Spike growled at Buffy, but couldn’t help but notice that she was ogling him lustfully. He could smell the musky fragrance he had only noticed when Buffy and Angel were together, or, on occasion, when she was fighting.

Thank God I didn’t lose all my powers.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled.

“Like what you see, Slayer?”

“What in the hell is wrong with the two of you,” the blonde woman yelled. “Theresa, I told you to stay away from Ethan, and I meant it. You’ve already done quite enough to our relationship, thank you, and Ethan, you need to get your ass home with me now. And why in the hell are you wearing that stupid outfit? And why do you have that ridiculous accent? This is Harmony, Ethan, not London.”

Spike raised an eyebrow before the realization of their situation hit him. He squinted at the blonde woman and chuckled.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…its Gwen, right?”

Gwen nodded, her eyes bulging out.

“Well, yeah. Tell me she didn’t put some ‘evil bitch’ spell on you to try and get you away from me.”

Buffy frowned at Gwen and started to move toward her, intent on breaking her nose, but Spike grabbed her torso, picking her up with ease. Gwen sighed loudly and threw her hands in the air.

“I give up! Ethan, you want to be with Theresa, fine. Don’t let your fiancée stop you.”

Storming off in a huff, Gwen left a confused Buffy and an amused Spike standing in the garden, Spike’s arms still locked around Buffy’s waist. Buffy closed her eyes and breathed in his scent: a very masculine mix of leather, tobacco, and malt liquor.

God he smells good.

Realizing her arousal at Spike’s hands, an infuriated Buffy slapped his hands away and attempted to push him back. The kitten-like force she mustered to push him away caught Spike by surprise.

“Buffy, you alright?”

“I feel okay…except for your arm grease still all over me. Why?”

“Well, because you push like a girl.”

She frowned and punched him in the stomach with all of her might. She gasped when she realized the act hurt her far worse than it hurt Spike.

“Oh my God, Spike…what happened to us? You’re impotent and I’m….”

“Going through Slayer menopause?”

Buffy tried to frown again, but her frightened expression shone through instead, and Spike sighed.

“Buffy, love, ‘m sorry.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, I mean it. Not right for me to pick on you, sorry, pet.”

“Thanks…but I’m not your ‘pet’.”

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Right. Well, where are we? You seemed to know that skanky blonde pretty well.”

“Are you jealous, Buffy?”

“Jealous of what, pray tell?”

“That the bird thinks she’s got her claws in all of this?”

Spike took a step back and, with a dramatic flourish, posed in front of Buffy, who finally broke into a legitimate smile.

“Yeah, but she keeps calling you ‘Eddie’ or ‘Elvis’ or something, so chances are, she doesn’t really see you the way you really are.”

“It’s Ethan, pet.”

She frowned, and Spike rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Told you. Habit. Better get used to it. Oh, and you might want to get used to being called ‘Theresa.’”

“And why’s that?”

“Well, that’s what the bird was calling you, and I think I’ve figured out why, we’ve just got to find the only two people who can help us here.”

An attractive, middle-aged woman, dressed in an expensive pantsuit followed a handsome police officer with dark hair and chiseled features into the garden.

“Sam, please, just talk to me! I wanted to tell you all these years, I just…I couldn’t…I….”

“Ivy, please, just stop it! I don’t want anything to do with you. You lied to me about my son…about our son! I can never forgive you for that.”

Buffy smacked at Spike, who was intently staring at the couple.

“It’s rude to stare, Spike.”

“Oh come on, they don’t notice us, pet. Not yet anyway. You ready now? Watch this. Three…two…one….”

Just as Spike predicted, Ivy and Sam’s attention turned to Spike and Buffy. Spike smiled.

“Told you, pet.”

Ivy frowned at Buffy.

“Theresa,” she spit as if the name were acid, “why are you still following my son around? Haven’t you done enough to him already? What with marrying Julian and all that nonsense?”

Buffy scowled back at Ivy.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to, lady, but I think someone needs to teach you some manners….”

Spike grabbed Buffy in a split second, and pressed a wet kiss on her lips. Only after Spike’s tongue slipped past her lips, causing her to moan, did Buffy realize what she was doing. Trying to push him away and failing, Buffy resigned herself into the kiss. That was, of course, until Spike caressed her read end with a groping hand. Her only defense left clamped down on Spike’s bottom lip. A few drops of his blood lay on her lips as he pulled back, which she quickly licked off, instantly aroused by its taste.

“Oi! No biting, Slayer!”

Ivy stared at Spike in confusion.

“Ethan, dear, why are you talking like that? Did the little tamale do something to you?”

Spike held a finger up to his mouth and looked at Buffy, then turned to Ivy.

“Mother, you need to get off my back, yeah? Give me some space. ‘m a grown man and will shag whomever I please.”

“Oh, we are so not ‘shagging,’ Mister,” Buffy said, unconvincingly.

“Hush, pet.”

Ivy’s jaw dropped and she could only muster a small gasp. Spike grabbed Buffy’s hand and headed off toward a small cluster of homes.

“C’mon, Theresa. We have someone we need to talk to.”

--




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