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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)




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