Spuffy Twitter
Top 10
Contact Us



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
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
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

[Reviews - 20]

Microsoft Word


ePub eBook

- Text Size +
3192 - Reads

Authors Chapter Notes:
Might Change the title, Not really 100% with it, Hmmm, Might not do this fic it depends if anyone thinks it's worthing anyhting. Also if you can think of a better Summary or a Better title please let me know, Unbeta PaganBaby helped me with grammer and spelling since I pretty much suck! So should I told or keeeping going! depends on you the people!

Chapter One

Twenty six-year-old Spike Johnson and his best friend, twenty seven-year-old
Angelus O'Connor stepped out of The Dark Arts after the amazingly popular
showing of Spike's latest artistic masterpieces. It was a raging success.

It was 3am in the morning. The art gallery was officially closed, Spike and
Angel where the last two people to leave.

Spike had gotten drunk, not just from the fine wine he'd imbibed throughout
the night, but on the adulation of the art loving crowd. He'd found his
niche in the world. Painting and sculpting was what he was put on this Earth
to do.

Several pieces had been sold, some of which costing $5000!

"Spike, you sure you don't want a ride?" Angelus asked, as he was about to
get into his 2004 black Mustang.

"No, mate I think I need to clear my head, it'll talk to you later," Spike
said as he began walking down the lone cold streets, heading down 74th

Spike walked down the deserted street, hands in the pockets of his leather
duster. It was brisk and chilly in L.A. tonight. The kind of night you'd
much rather be curled up at home in front of the TV. Spike noticed that the
only people about were the homeless...and a hooker up ahead that was still
out late.

Only a few blocks away from his flat, he observed a petite blonde girl
standing near the old abandoned gas station that burned down a while back.
She was rather small in stature, and looked about twenty-years-old. She was
wearing spiked black heels, a black vinyl mini-skirt and a tank top that
showed off her belly. She was so thin, almost skin and bones. And she wore
so much makeup that she could give Bozo the Clown a run for his money.

But, there was still something about her that drew him to her. As if on
their own, his feet carried him towards her.

Spike approached her. When he was standing before her, he was unsure of what
to say, having second thoughts about hiring a hooker. He didn't want anyone
to see him or let alone get arrested for just wanting to get his rocks off.
It had been a long time since his last sexual experience and he was

Buffy smiled, cracking her bubble gum. "Hey, cutie. Want a date?" She licked
her red shiny lips.

"Uh, maybe. How much?" Spike asked, looking around. He really didn't want
anyone seeing him propositioning a prostitute.

"Depends on what you're looking for, baby. It'll cost you $100 bucks an
hour. Extra if you want kinky shit."

"You don't charge much, do ya?" he asked, digging into his duster pocket for
his wallet. What she was charging was just pocket change to him.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, handsome, I'm good at what I do. Just
like one of those high-priced whores on Park Avenue. You'll have a good
time, guaranteed."

The blonde woman extended her dainty hand out, waiting for the cash she was
due. Spike slowly placed a hundred dollar bill in her hand. She smiled and
put it in her small black handbag.

"Come on, here will be fine, baby," she said, pulling him into the dark

As soon as they were in the dark, Spike pushed her against the wall and
began kissing her lips wildly. *So damn horny!*

She moaned into his mouth. His hands ran all over her body. Spike was still
a little light-headed from all the drinks he'd had at the gallery.

Still, he couldn't believe that he was paying for sex. He'd never done that
before. There were so many women that wanted to fuck him for free!

Spike kissed the nape of her neck noticing a jagged scar on the side of her
throat. It was pretty long and deep.

He felt her fingers playing along the waist of his jeans, going to the
zipper of his brown leather pants. Spike's mind drifted. Suddenly, he
remembered when his mother had run the shelter for abused women and
children. So many of them had hideous bruises or scars dotting their bodies
from their abusive husbands, boyfriends or fathers. Spike remembered how sad
and lonely all of the children looked. He had helped his mum with the
day-to-day running of the place, he'd seen enough tortured faces to last him
a lifetime, and then some

That shelter had meant a lot to his mother. She loved helping people get
away from unhappy lives, to help them make a brand new start. And he had
loved it too.

Spike didn't think his mum would approve of what he was about to do. Who
knows what horrors this woman had been subjected to during her time on the

"Stop...I can't do this," he said, pushing himself away from her. She looked
confused as he rezipped his fly.

"What's wrong?" Buffy asked, looking around fearfully. "Did you see a cop?
Why did you stop? There's no refunds, ya know? All transactions are final,"
she said softly, clutching her purse to her chest.

"Are you hungry?" Spike asked out of nowhere. "Because I'm bloody famished."

She gave him a strange look, not sure what to make of this sudden turn of
events. Buffy didn't understand this John whatsoever. Not more than a few
seconds ago, he'd been ready to screw her into the cold hard wall. Now he's
asking her if she's hungry? Like she was a real person, and not just a cheap
street whore? What was he up to? Did he have some kind of angle?

"So...um...What's your name, pet? I'm Spike."

It's, uh, Buffy," she replied, still confused at his actions. He gave her a
tiny smile.

"So, Buffy, since we're not...you know...and there's no refund, how about
keeping me company for breakfast. My treat."

"Fine," she said.

"Right then, I'll show you, I can make the best omelet you will ever taste,"
he explained as he walked out of the alley with Buffy close behind.

She was still wary of him. Ready to run or fight if he suddenly turned out
to be not-so-nice afterall.


Spike's Flat

Buffy followed Spike in. It didn't look like much outside but inside was
totally a different story, the walls were painted a dark gray color. There
were swirls in the paint, making it look like it had texture. It was cool.
Buffy was amazed. Two black leather sofas, a big screen TV, with surround
sound, large speakers, DVD, VCR, a bunch of paintings all over the walls and

Buffy mused that all this stuff must have cost a fortune. He must be

"You can take a seat." Spike gestured to the sofa, which Buffy went to and
sank down into.

She sat quietly. She noticed he had a bunch of art books on his glass
see-through coffee table.

Buffy pulled one onto her lap and started looking at all the different kind
of art. Many were of naked women.

"Buffy, if you want, you can help yourself to something to drink?"

Buffy nodded, she set the book down and proceeded to Spike's fridge. Spike
already had a few omelets cooking.

She pulled out a pitcher of what look like punch.

"The cups are in the left cabinet," he said.

She grabbed two cups a blue and red one and filled them with punch. As she
started drinking, the punch slipped, spilling all over her shirt and skirt.

"Shit!" she frowned, looking down at her wet clothes.

Spike saw what happened and grabbed some napkins. He tried to help Buffy
clean up a little.

"Look, I'll be right back," Spike left the room and quickly came back into
the room with a shirt and boxer shorts in his arms. "Put these on, and you
can use my washer and dryer to get those stains off. Better do it now
before the stains set in."

Buffy frowned why was he being so nice to her. No one has every treated her
like a girl. Not a whore. And these clothes sucked anyway, what was the big
deal if they got ruined? It's not like there were silk or cashmere or
something fancy, like the girls he normally dated probably wore.

She took the clothes. "Thanks," she said softly.

"Bathroom's down the hall."

Buffy left the room. Spike took a deep breath. He brought a hooker into his
home. And now he was giving her clothes and feeding her.

Spike sighed and placed the omelets onto two plates and refilled the two
cups. And then went over to the living room. And placed it on the coffee
table. He started in on his food. The bathroom door opened after a few

He saw Buffy and * WOW * she looked completely different. She looked so
pretty with out the tons of makeup and better in his shirt and boxers then
that cheap outfit. And then it hit, him he noticed she didn't look more then
fifteen or sixteen.

"Clothes are a little big," she said, holding up the boxers.

"Sorry about that. Um, come sit down," he said. Buffy did, she took a seat
on the leather couch and Spike handed her the plate. Within five minutes
both her omelets where gone and so was her punch.

"Wow, I guess I wasn't the only one starving," he teased. She gave a small
little giggle. "Are you still hungry, luv?"

She shook her head. * Yawn * "I'm fine." * yawn *

Spike left one omelet and a half on his plate. "I'm pretty full. Well, I'll
put your clothes in the dryer and it should be done in fifteen minutes,"
Spike said as he gotten up and walked into the where the washer and dryer

"Don't put the skirt in the dryer!" Buffy called. "It'll melt!"

Spike chuckled, "Okay, got it." He hung the skirt up to drip dry and placed
the rest of her clothes in the machine and walked back into the room. Where
he heard light breathing coming from the sofa.

Her juice and leftover omelet was gone. He walked close to see Buffy almost
in a ball like form fast asleep on the couch.

"Poor little chit," he whispered. "Probably been awhile since you had a
good night's sleep." He grabbed a blanket from the other sofa.
"Night," Spike whispered and walked into his bedroom.


Spike's flat 6am

Buffy looked around. She noticed she wasn't in her small little dirty
apartment. She was in a warm place. And she felt safe here.

She looked at the alarm clock.

*Crap * she thought to herself. She started gathering her cloths that lied
beside her. And her shoes. She slipped them on. She noticed a picture of
Spike leaning against the wall. He was smiling brightly with another,
taller, dark-haired man. It looked like it was taken at the beach. She
didn't know why, but she grabbed it and then she grabbed a paper bag from
the kitchen and put her clothes in them, and grabbed other one. She quietly
started to gather a few cookies and chips from Spike's fridge.

As she quickly made her way towards the door. She spied a brand new DVD
player by a box of empty boxes. She bit her lip. She really needed the
money. She felt terrible about stealing, she never ever really did it
before. And Spike was so nice to her. Cook for her, didn't even kick her
out. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Buffy had to look out
for number one. Besides, she knew given time, he would hurt her. Just like
every nasty, worthless man in her life.

She took all of the items she'd stolen and left.

Enter the security code shown below:
Note: You may submit either a rating or a review or both.