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05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
12/23/16 01:12 pm
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10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!


Author's Corner

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Authors Chapter Notes:
This is the VERY FIRST THING I'd ever written, which is why there's no smut, haha! But, I had to bring this story over here as per Fang Fetish Awards' regulations. Elysian Fields is members-only for reading, so there you have it. This takes place in late season 5, but there's really no correlation to a specific episode. Spike falls asleep and has a dream narrated by Rupert Giles. It's kind of a fairytale, read aloud in his subconscious, which alone is hilarious.

Spike stumbled into his crypt after a long night of bottle after bottle of J&B at Willy’s. His head was spinning but he gathered enough strength to make it to the dusty couch in front of the TV. With an unneeded sigh, he slouched down on the sofa and turned on the tube. There was a movie on, about half way through but he wasn’t interested in any of the previous plot. He smiled to himself as the screen showed a woman with long blonde hair in a white dress twirling amid falling snow.

Through heavy lidded eyes he continued to watch the story when a sickeningly pale man in black leather watched her. He had some kind of knife display for hands and a hair do that Spike mused to himself wasn’t all that unattractive. Spike reached into his leather duster and pulled out a bottle of whiskey that he nicked from the bar and took a long pull off the neck and shouted at the TV.

“Stupid git! Soon as you get close enough she’s gonna run off to her white hat friends. Cut the bint and get on with it! You’ve got bloody scissors for hands! Show ‘er what she’s missin’! Oh, don’t cry you wanker! She doesn’ love you so go back to your hidey hole at the top of the hill and feel sorry for yourself.”

When the two characters embraced in a kiss, Spike clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, finishing off the last bit of whiskey in the bottle. As the voice of Vincent Price softly narrated the last words of the movie, Spike drifted off to sleep.


The voice of Rupert Giles began speaking, rather narrating in Spike’s mind, as if reading a Grimms’ Fairy Tale to him in his sleep. With each word, he fell deeper and deeper into a dreamlike world.

Once upon a time in the quiet town of Sunnydale, California, twilight fell as it did every evening. Twilight was a cue like an alarm clock to a Vampire that it was time to rise and greet the night. And one such vampire, who was known throughout the world as “Spike, the Brilliant” did just that. He neglected to spoil his vanity this night, as was not the usual ritual for him. He typically pawed a fistful of gel out of a rusty can and slicked his bleached blonde hair back with it. But tonight, he left it messy, and dressed his perfect physique in a long sleeve black tee shirt and tight black jeans. Knowing that no matter what he wore that he was always absolutely gorgeous, he slipped on a leather trench coat and sauntered through the door with rightful arrogance. Before opening it, he looked at his empty reflection in the mirror, almost making out the piercing blue color of his eyes…and his undead heart sank. For you see, my friends, as much as he wanted to, he could never look into a pool of water or a stretch of glass and see his own magnificent mug staring back.

It was a difficult life for a creature of the night, but Spike was well aware of the pros as well as the cons. After all, he’d been a vampire for over a hundred years and that was saying quite a lot. However, in his reflection of times past and days yet to come, the hardened and lifeless heart of this beast didst flutter at the instant one single thought crept into his genius mind. That thought, my friends, he kept a secret, locked away in the basement of his soulless body, and discarded it just as quickly as it came with a single flick of a Zippo lighter as he lit a cigarette in the blue light that shone through the trees of the cemetery.

But wait! What’s this? Just as our story begins we’ve born witness to a truly rare and amazing sight! Sixteen demons appeared as if by magick and encircled our protagonist in a threatening stance. How will he ever get out of this mess? Surely this will be his last un-breath of life! How will our hero fare this very night?

“I just cleaned this shirt,” was the only thing the vampire said. It seemed he was unaware of his own safety, or was it self-assuredness keeping him so secure with his present situation? One can’t think on such things for too long, for it is too unimaginable for the human mind to comprehend. It’s just that awe-inspiring and that much of an enigma for our feeble minds to ever fully understand.

“Time to clean it again,” said a demon with an ominous tone.

And as soon as it spoke, it was quieted with an ax hurled twixt throat and chin, and a smiling vampire stood proudly as he watched his foe tumble to the ground in a spurting mess of blood. The demons remaining were angered and stepped closer to the vampire! Most would run and cower in a corner, awaiting their horrible destiny to unfold, but our hero, our Spike the Brilliant did no such thing. He plucked the cigarette from his perfect pout of a mouth and flicked the butt in a perfect arc into the night air. The demons were mesmerized with his precise aim and followed the burning ember with their eyes as it landed atop the newly slain corpse and set it ablaze!

Now furious with the beast, they charged at him with full force. He blocked each of their attacks with graceful flicks of his hands and glorious bends at his waist, standing firm in one spot and taking whatever they threw at him. Punch! Smack! Slice! Hack! He was a whirling dervish of fists and metal, slicing and bludgeoning each and every demon until they lay in a large pile at his feet; some were gasping for mercy and others felt the pangs of what would be their last breath.

The vampire inspected himself for scratches or tears at his flesh and found not one…except for a single droplet of blood on his cheek which he gently swept away with the back of his hand. He was about to leave when something sparkled among the mass of corpses in the light of the moon. Upon closer inspection, he realized it might be important and placed the object in his coat pocket. He charged forward, stepping up and climbing atop the bodies before him and leapt off the pile of agonizing screams and continued walking into the cool breezy night towards the Magick Shoppe.

As he arrived, he stood momentarily outside the shop door to collect himself before entering. There was a sticker on a pane of glass within the door that read:

No Vampires Are Invited Inside

He chuckled to himself, as he did every night that he read it, because this warning bore no meaning to him. For he, dearest friends, was no ordinary vampire.

The Magick Shoppe was a fantastic store filled with books of spells, herbs from all over the world and other dimensions, idols and relics of worship, all neatly priced accordingly for the benefit of a customer interested in the Magicks, and those too foolish to know the power they beheld and instead thought them to be souvenirs or a kitschy item to brandish on All Hallows Eve. But the purchase of said items was not what brought our Champion here this evening, or any other night. Perhaps he was here in some relation to that single thought he had earlier that sent his heart soaring, or perhaps we aren’t to know. Either way, he was greeted warmly by familiar faces.

One of these familiar smiles belonged to a petite red headed girl named Willow who wore a ghastly sweater appliquéd with large crocheted daisies that were neither the color of daisies nor were they remotely the size of daisies. Nevertheless, she had a kindness about her, regardless of her atrocious attire. Another belonged to an elderly man called ‘Giles’ who was quite handsome and dressed himself in a smart tweed jacket and a button up shirt. He was currently fidgeting with his glasses, as was apropos, and hadn’t noticed that Spike had entered.

It was of no consequence to the vampire, because he was searching the room for someone else. Someone we have yet to mention; a person, who to his own dismay, was not among them. His eyes glistened when he caught a glimpse of blonde hair bobbing and weaving, barely visible above a shelf of books. Could it be? Was she here? He sniffed the air searching for her familiar sweet scent and scowled when his nose did not please him. It was only the witch called ‘Tara who recently fell into the charms of the petite red head and not who he so yearned it would be. She peered out from the side of the bookshelf and smiled at him. He retorted with a vague twitch in the corner of his mouth and turned about the room.

“What brings you here this evening?” said the redhead with a grin so large it might have cracked her skin.

“Thought you could use some help is all,” he responded, and sat down at the table where she sat. He laughed to himself when she eagerly wiggled her chair closer to him. As soon as she did, the blonde witch emerged from the stacks and came to sit next to her lover.

As if entranced with Spike, they cooed and spoke breathily to him, desperately interested in every word that spilled out of his mouth, a typical reaction from all women in the world when faced with the handsome and sexual presence of Spike, as he spoke of his plans for the evening which in turn was met with doe eyes from the two women, as well as heavy sighs and the batting of lashes.

“You’re so brave, Spike the Brilliant,” sighed Willow. She rested her chin on two very tightly wound fists and gazed into his eyes as he spoke about the sixteen demons he met only moments ago. He humored them with a very accurate description of events as well as a boisterous reenactment of said slaying. “Wow…” she continued dreamily, “And you weren’t scared at all?”

“Not a bit, pet,” he responded in his incredibly sexy English accent that American women were most affected by. It had been compared to that of Gary Oldman’s performance in a movie about a drug addicted rock star, but Spike would hear no more of that, even if it did swell his ego at the similarity. After all, he’d been around much longer than Gary Oldman, and one could argue that the famous celebrity might have stolen his accent from Spike, and not the other way around. Oh, where was I? Oh yes, the painfully handsome vampire was having a chat with the young ladies.

Tara, who was unusually fidgety this evening, and fidget she always did, reached into a back pack and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment paper and cautiously handed it to the vampire, unable to meet his eyes. “I-I made you something,” she stammered, “For you to put up in your crypt. That is…if you like it.”

Touched by the gesture, Spike shot a smile at Tara, which made her blush instantly. He thanked her and unrolled the paper to reveal a shocking sight indeed! Sketched across the paper, with great detail I might add, was a surprisingly accurate depiction of Spike himself, thrusting his penis into the vulva of a woman who had a striking resemblance to the gift giver. He frantically rolled the drawing back up when Willow leaned forward to see what he was looking at. Tara’s blushing expression changed to that of lust and she licked her lips and winked at him.

“What is it?” asked the redhead, unaware that her lover was ogling the vampire behind her crouched back.

“It’s uh…” he struggled for the words, “it’s a DaVinci type…kind of drawing of anatomy…thing. So, what’s the story on our next quest?” He implored, wanting to change the subject. To this question, the handsome librarian’s ears perked up and he walked towards the group, placing his glasses back on his face and smiled, grateful that the vampire had graced them with his presence, as he was having a most difficult time sussing out the details of their current situation.

“Oh, hello Spike,” he said kindly. “It has been brought to our attention that the Hellmouth is threatening yet again to be opened by some unwholesome group of demons.”

The Hellmouth was a kind of gateway to hell which left our friends in constant fear of evil rearing its ugly head upon the peaceful suburban town they called home. They had stopped many apocalypses from coming to light before, and this next attempt shouldn’t have ended any differently. This was always avoided by an extensive study of rituals and sacrifices that were to come to pass and Spike, who always knew the answers, would come to save the day in the end.

“Demons, eh?” the vampire retorted as he inspected his nails, “They wouldn’t happen to be about seven feet tall, covered in pointy bits and travel in groups of…about sixteen, would they?”

Giles removed his glasses swiftly, mouth agape, as he had just read in a book that very description! How was it that his hours of research were bested yet again by the cunning wit of the vampire? And then he remembered, he was only human and Spike was a brilliant monster with years of education at his grasp.

“Good lord…yes, yes I dare say they are.” He paced the floor, scratching his head.

“Don’t worry, mate,” so sayeth the vampire, “I just brought them to their knees not ten minutes ago.”

The two women swooned and leaned into one another, fantasizing about the story he just told them and dreamed of his iron-clad muscles flexing in the moon light.

“You are aware, Spike, that there are hundreds of these demons? They won’t just send out a small group of them and have that be their final attempt. They’re trying to obtain the amulet of Harak-Gul for the binding ritual.”

Remembering the object he snagged from his conquest, he slowly removed it from his pocket and raised it before them. He slowly stood up and said, “Do you mean…this amulet of Harak-Gul?”

They all gasped in awe and there was the faintest sound of trumpets at this stunning reveal. Giles furiously flipped the pages of a book he was reading, searching for a picture of the amulet. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Spike; he just wanted to be absolutely certain they had the correct item. Of course, it was a waste of time, as Spike was always correct.

Spike found himself getting incredibly bored and tossed the amulet to Giles. Giles gasped and fumbled forward to catch it, almost missing, but caught it in the nick of time before it came crashing to the floor. He sighed in relief and put the amulet in his pocket. This was inconsequential to the vampire, and he ignored the bumbling clumsiness of the human and circled the room yet again. He was about to take his leave when he heard footsteps outside the store.

Could it be? Was it her?

His entire body tensed at the thought of it and he turned to face the door. To his dismay, it was Xander and Anya, a couple who could be entertaining at times but usually offended the vampire with their constant interruptions. He nodded at them, as he knew that if he ignored Xander, he would go into a fit of depression, as he absolutely worshipped Spike and even took to dressing like him in an attempt to flatter the vampire. He was not impressed. Anya was more pleasant to be around, as her blatant honesty brought light to many arguments, which amused Spike greatly.

The couple took their usual places at the table in the back of the shop and the two girls caught them up to speed on Spike’s recent tryst, as everyone always wanted to know exactly what he was doing at all times. He wanted to leave, he really did, but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop as the women excitedly told of his heroics, and even threw in some of their own interpretations.

“Wow, so he ate three demons and then flexed his muscles?” asked a very interested Xander Harris.

“No, tell us more about when he was bent over so his ass was taut beneath the layer of denim,” interjected Anya.

Ignoring her, Willow answered Xander, “No, he flexed his muscles, then he axed two demons, a-and then he said, ‘You shall not pass’, and set them all on fire…or was that the Lord of the Rings?”

Xander did not care if it was true or maybe he didn’t hear but he said with hope in his eyes, “Man, that Spike is like, cool personified. I wish my penis were as big as his.”

“Yeah,” they all sighed.

After much discussion of whether Spike used swords or axes, they were interrupted by Giles who suggested that one of them order a pizza. Whether or not he was hungry was not important. What was important was that he was jealous and wanted the conversation to end.

A few minutes passed and Spike felt a tingle creeping up his spine. It was a familiar sensation, one that usually meant she was near. He felt a surge of excitement from deep within his body and tried to look as casual and cool as possible, finding the perfect tableau to stand in for her to see when she entered. This wasn’t difficult to achieve as every position he stood in resembled that of a fresco painting, or a finely chiseled statue of perfection, all with a twinge of sexuality that made even the boldest of women weak with desire. Except for her…

Many nights he dreamt of her caressing him, kissing him deeply and drowning him with love. Hers was not an expression so easily read as our previously mentioned friends and it made him uneasy to think about it for too long. So he did not. Instead, he swallowed a bit of air caught in the back of his throat and awaited for her to open the door and step inside.

And as soon as he prepared for it, there she was. Time seemed to slow down with her every movement as she opened the door and flipped her golden tresses behind her back, ever so slowly, so as to tease Spike with the nape of her exquisite neck. Each step forward was like a slow trickle of water creeping towards him with sensuous fluidity. When she said ‘hello’, it seemed as if the sound of her voice lingered on each consonant for an eternity in a breathy tone that made him shudder and his eyelids heavy. But he did not let on, even as she passed him and let her hand slowly and lightly brush up against his; he never showed a sign that he was absolutely aching inside for her when her eyes met his flirtatiously and she looked upon him over a bare shoulder and turned away from him. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction that she had the power to lower him into a gelatinous mold of protoplasm, jiggling with lust, desire, adoration and love. Oh, no. Not our brave soldier. But our friends at the table knew, and they frowned in protest.

“Buffy,” said the vampire, rather flat and emotionless, “you’ll be glad to know that I’ve saved the world again. Tell her, everyone.”

He waltzed around the room, quite proud of himself and awaited the group’s eager banter but was deflated when Buffy interjected. “Oh, have you? Well, then explain to me what this is?”

My friends, what I am about to tell you seems so unlikely that you might not believe it, but I swear with the rubbing of my glasses that it is so. Buffy reached into her pocket and pulled out an amulet, one that was exactly like the amulet Spike had procured from his enemies not fifteen minutes before! Can you believe the irony of these circumstances?

Spike grabbed it from her hands and inspected it. It WAS exactly the same! But how was this possible?

“How is this possible?” he asked. And thankfully so, because wouldn’t we all like to know! Calming the confusion evident on everyone’s face, Buffy sighed and stood to address the crowd.

“Well, I was out patrolling and came across this huge group of pointy demons, like, sixteen of them…”

Spike clenched his jaw. He knew the story that was coming and while he was impressed that she was able to take them all down, he couldn’t help but feel that his recent triumph lost its meaning. But wait! How is it that they both came to the same grisly end with a treasure to behold, one that was exactly the same when all the books he’d ever read on the matter only mentioned one Amulet? He thought on this while she told everyone of her struggle with the demons and interrupted her with a most alarming idea.

“They’re playing us!” Buffy looked at him quizzically. “Listen, Buffy…if Giles is right about them sending hundreds of these demons in search of the shiny thing, and if I were a demon…”

“I was a vengeance demon!” interjected Anya, who was hushed by her boyfriend that was desperately trying to hear every word the vampire said. She mouthed ‘sorry’ and the vampire continued.

“If I were a demon, or… in with the lot of them, I’d know that someone would be on to my plans.”

“…and with so many of them, they could send out a group to distract us with a fake while another group went in search for the real amulet!” Buffy finished, excited that she knew where he was going with his words.

He should have been offended, but he was always glad when they came up with the proper conclusions together. He lowered his head and smiled at that, not knowing that she shared the same joy.

“So, let’s find a way to figure out where the real amulet is and get it before they do.”

Spike inched towards her. “Good plan, pet…but how’d you reckon we do that?”

“Well, Willow and Tara could do a locater spell? Maybe the fake amulets we have can help out.” She cleared her throat when Spike grew nearer to her and played with the pendant of her necklace and pretended she did not notice.

“Yes…or maybe…” he said softly as he stood mere centimeters away from her body, taking in a whiff of her hair, “we already found the one.” In time with the last word he spoke, Spike extended his arm like a toll booth barrier and pointed at Giles, never looking in his direction; as if some sort of…supernatural power keyed him into something magical, because at the very instant that he said ‘one’, the amulet dangling from his hand started to glow.

Everyone clapped in amazement. Xander offered his own sentiments. “Wow. That guy is good.” He shook his head because dammit, it was true.

Just then, the crowd’s attention turned to the front door as someone walked through it. Buffy jerked away from the vampire’s body and looked to see who had entered.

“Hey guys,” a voice echoed through the store, low and booming. “You order a pizza?”

Spike seethed in anger, almost hissing at the sight of him. It was Angel, his mortal immortal enemy for over a century. And while he should be amused that he was a pizza boy, suffering the jobs of those less educated and cunning as he, he was angry none the less, since Angel also wanted to steal the heart of our hero’s maiden fair. A vampire, like Spike was, he was not to be reckoned with, although his persona was often nervous and insecure, knowing that Spike was more brilliant, sexier, and better in every way than he could ever dream of.

But Buffy had a connection with Angel that could not be ignored. They were sweethearts before Spike came to town. No one spoke of why they split up, but Spike had hoped it was because her feelings had switched onto our protagonist. He imagined all sorts of amusing tales of their break up, mostly involving ridicule of the size of the vampire’s lower anatomy and horrible hair, and sometimes ending with Angel standing in his driveway, holding a kitten while rain poured over his body as Buffy drove away from him angrily because for the seventh time, she wasn’t taking him back and no amount of kittens was going to change it! Angel would bite his fist and cry whilst the kitten pawed at his flesh trying to break free. Sometimes it was a puppy.

Buffy smiled at Angel and Spike clenched his fists, but no one saw. She walked over to him and said "Hello" while Giles fingered through his wallet looking for cash.

“So, you’re a pizza boy, huh?” Buffy chided.

Hanging his head slightly, even though he towered over her, he managed to look up at her, an expression that always impressed. “Yeah, I know it’s not the most luxurious of jobs…but, I can work nights!”

Spike rolled his eyes, annoyed with his presence. “Giles, get on with it, mate. Pay the Great Git and send him packing.” Giles promptly paid him, but Angel’s gaze turned towards Spike.



“Guess you guys are workin’ on some kind of big evil, huh?” He asked with jealousy in his eyes, almost hoping for an invitation. But it never came and it never would.

“Oh, you know us. Always fightin’ the Big Bad. Never a dull moment and all that. You don’t happen to have a kitten in that knap sack of yours, do you?”

“Actually…” he said nervously and placed the pizza box down. He reached inside the knap sack slung at his waist.

“Oh, go on! You gotta be kiddin’ me!” Spike laughed.

Angel pulled out a mewing kitten and raised it to his cheek. “Isn’t he the cutest? I saw him at the pet store this morning and I just couldn’t help myself. They were going to send it to a kill shelter and…” tears welled in his eyes, but he blinked them away. “I just had to save him! And then, I noticed that he had Buffy’s eyes and well…that was that.” He looked longingly at Buffy who was rolling her eyes and folding her arms.

“Angel. I don’t want one of your friggin’ kittens, ok! This is really making me all wiggy.”

Spike smirked, amazed that his fantasy bore some real connection to the truth. Angel dropped his shoulders and sighed. “Who said it was for you?”

“It isn’t for me...”

“No. Well, I mean, maybe. If you want it, that is. It’s not like…NO! It isn’t for you! I just…haven’t gone home yet since I went to the pet store and I just took him with me, so…”

“So…you put it in a bag and instead of leaving it in the car, you bring it inside here where you know I’ll be?”

“Coincidence! That’s it!”

“And…when you bought the kitten you had it gift wrapped with a big red bow and a bell around its neck like a present?”

There was silence, except for the sound of the kitten struggling to free itself from the strange thing tied around its neck; the sound of bells and mewing. Spike inhaled deeply, forcing himself not to laugh. Angel put the kitten back in his knap sack and failed to see the expressions of the group, who were imploring him for an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I’ll just…go. Enjoy your pizza.” He turned to the door and before he left, a feeling of confidence and anger washed over him. “You know…just because I can’t make love to you doesn’t mean we can’t be together!” Spike couldn’t help himself and let out a hearty laugh at his nemesis’ pain.

“Oi! The truth comes out! Mr. Dark Eyes can’t get it up, can he? Ha! This day gets better and better!” Spike wiped the tears from his eyes and continued, “First, I put a good axing to a group of demons, then I get sexy pictures from the lesbian,” Willow looked at Tara coldly, to which Tara responded with a shrug of her shoulders, “and then I find out you’re slingin’ out slices of cheese pie, and now this! Stake me now, this is better than goin’ out fighting!”

“You know what Spike? One day…one day!” Angel shook an angry fist in Spike’s face, but flinched and retreated when Spike reacted with a slight jump as if to frighten him. It worked.

“Piss off, you sorry ass! No one wants you here,” he put his arm around Buffy and said with a cocky grin, “No one.”

When Angel saw that Buffy did not protest, he sighed and ran out the door crying a single tear and the group knew that it would not be his last. To Spike’s surprise, Buffy did not shake away from his embrace and instead put her arm around his waist and craned her neck to whisper in his ear.

“I have something for you. Rather, something you should see.”

“Is that so, Slayer?” Intrigued and a little turned on, he waited for her to continue.

“I was going to wait until everyone left, but after seeing that horrible excuse of a vampire, it only reminds me how lucky I am to be in your presence. I’ll be back in a minute. Get ready to be impressed. By the way, love it when your hair is like that,” she said coyly, and walked to the storage room, leaving Spike incredibly curious as to what she was on about and was glad he neglected the hair gel this evening.

The rest of them dug into the pizza and made a few remarks about how Angel was an idiot and should learn a thing or two from Spike. Willow, still curious about her girlfriend’s gift to Spike, thought she’d deal out a bit of her own medicine. She removed her sweater, exposing her half naked body as if it were nothing. She shook her hair and smoothed it down with her hands, stretching her back as she did, hoping that he would see. Giles rolled his eyes and continued doing his research but Tara, fuming with anger, stood up abruptly and said, “Like he’d want to see those puny things on your chest!” And she removed her own top, exposing her much larger cleavage and smirked proudly.

Xander Harris sat staring, with a large bite of pizza lodged in his mouth, yet to be chewed. Anya noticed his hesitation, as well as wanting to impress our hero, followed suit and removed her top to attract the attention of both males. Spike, who had witnessed this almost every night for the past year, decided it would be best to not say a word and let them sort it out amongst themselves.

“He wants me, not you, Willow!” exclaimed Tara as she grabbed a fistful of her girlfriend’s hair and yanked.

“Hey! That hurt, you bitch!” screamed Willow as she echoed her lover’s gesture with a large chunk of blonde locks. The two girls began fighting furiously with one another, screaming and clawing and slapping each other. Xander shot up from his seat and started clapping.

“Oh yeah, here it goes! Total fantasy! Guys…oil? Is there a mud pool nearby? Anything?”

“Xander Harris!” Anya slapped him on the face. “You can just say good bye to my dirty pillows…until next week when we have passionate break up sex and after your fifth orgasm you realize you can’t live without me!”

Just when the din and chaos was about to reach its climax, a voice, or rather, a shout was heard from across the store, silencing them all.

“End of the line, ladies. He’s mine!”

They all stopped what they were doing and froze. Willow had Tara on her back and was strangling her and blew a puff of air from her mouth to move an annoying lock of hair stuck to her lip. Tara, who was being throated, craned her neck backwards and her eyes grew wide. Giles blushed and said ‘Good Lord’ with his expression only. Xander let a glob of pizza crust fall from his mouth to his jacket, while Anya simply stared. And Spike, who was so shocked to see what exactly he was seeing, almost choked. Because at the end of the store, near the storage room, stood Buffy completely nude except for a gingham apron that was trimmed in lace and she held a silver tray with a mug filled with Type O negative blood.

She walked past the gaping mob straight to Spike who was currently finding new ways to use his jacket as a shield against an eyeful of his now throbbing erection.

“Thirsty?” She said, and grabbed the mug with one hand and laid the silver tray on the floor with the other, bowing down from the waist and kept her legs straight like a pin up model. When she slowly stood back up, she whirled the mug under his nose and with her free hand, traced Spike’s collar bone with her fingers and walked to the back of him. She pushed on his shoulders slightly and grabbed a stool by crooking a rung with her foot, slung it around in front of him and sat him down.

“Uh…thank you…B-Buffy,” the vampire blushed and took the mug from her hands.

“There, there,” she whispered and began rubbing his very sore and aching shoulders. “You just close those big blue eyes of yours and relax. I’m going to take real good care of you.”

The rest of the room grew darker and darker, until it seemed as though only the slayer and the vampire remained. She teased him relentlessly by running the tip of her nose along his neck and barely touched the lobes of his ears with her lips, and would occasionally let out a soft moan, allowing the heat from her breath waft over him. “Drink it, baby. You’re going to need your strength.”

“What for, love?” He asked, almost frightened. But he wasn’t frightened anymore when she answered him with a wink. “Oh…you’re about to do something naughty, aren’t you you little minx?”

“Mm hm. But first, can you help me with something?”

“Sure, luv. What you need?” She walked in front of him again, bashfully, and stood with her back facing him.

Buffy bent her knees slightly to lower herself and said to him over her shoulder shyly, “Can you help me with this itchy, simply irritating little bow that seems to be the only thing keeping this apron attached and covering my very naked, supple body?”

Spike gulped. He couldn’t say anything, so instead he did as he was told and undid her bow. He watched the fabric fall to the ground and with a trembling hand, reached up to grab her shoulder and turn her around to face him. When he did, though, she was gone and his vision blurred. It felt as if someone were shaking him violently, and he desperately grasped at the air in front of him trying to grab hold of something, anything, but then it was too late.


“Spike, wake up,” yelled Dawn and slapped at his shoulders in frustration.

Wiping at his eyes, Spike looked up to see a very annoyed Dawn Summers staring at him. “Huh? What’s going on…”

“God, you’re so annoying! I’ve been like, screaming forever to get you to wake up.”

Spike realized he had nodded off for quite a long time as daylight spilled into his crypt where the girl had left the door open. And then he realized something far more important than that. “You bloody bint! You woke me up during the good part.”

Dawn crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and I’m like, completely scarred for life.”

“Not sure I’m followin’ you, Bit.”

“You talk in your sleep. ‘Oh, Buffy! Yes! Yes!’” she mocked. And then she winced at her own words.

“Sod off! I wasn’ dreamin’ about that.”


“No, I was…” he paused thinking of how to word this. “Well, I was goin’ for a walk, right? And there were these pandas sellin’ lotto tickets, yeah? An’ then Buffy made me buy one for ‘er, and since I’m no ponce I nicked ‘em. So later we were watchin’ the telly to find out if our numbers were winners and they were, so we were excited and all that. That’s all.”

Dawn forced back a laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are. And I’m a liar, too.”

Spike cocked a brow.

“You weren’t talking in your sleep. But now I know what you were dreaming about.”

“Oh, bloody hell!”


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