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Authors Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: BtVS does not belong to me unfortunately.


Buffy was frustrated.

It seemed no matter what they did, she and Riley were still unhappy. She felt her frustration mount even as she patrolled, never seeming to diminish even as she punched and staked and clobbered through the demonic population this evening.

She'd talked to Willow beforehand. She had always been a little wary of magick, but she wanted things to turn out alright for once. Willow had shown her a simple (and hopefully harmless) devotion spell that would push back any emotional troubles and focus more on the brighter things in their relationship. She'd said that the spell was often used before and during consummation between the victims of loveless arranged marriages to strengthen weak emotional bonds, but both parties had to be willing.

Buffy hadn't told Riley about the spell. She assumed he wanted the same thing anyway. Which was why she was going to see him as soon as her patrolling duties were over.

Which she supposed was now, until she spotted a familiar streak of platinum blond hair attached to a familiar vampire lugging a heavy metal chest into the mausoleum he called his abode.

She sighed, trudging her way over to him with her fists clenched and ready—ready to pummel his stupid face for interrupting her swift exit out of the cemetery.

She didn't even have energy for their usual banter. "What's that?" she asked wearily.

He looked up at her with feigned interest. "Never you mind, pet. You toddle off now." He lifted it onto his shoulder and pushed open the door.

"I think I do mind, Spike." She put her hands on her hips, but the vampire seemed to realize that all was not well in Buffyworld.

"You're not very intimidating tonight, luv," he said sarcastically. "Buffy's bright and sunny world not going according to its usual forecast?"

She gestured toward the chest. "What is it?"

"Mine," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, and how did it come to be yours?" she said a little more forcefully.

He shrugged. "Nabbed it, how else? Now are you going to come in and stop me or are you going to come in and watch me go through the shinies?"

Buffy sighed and followed him in. She pushed him aside as soon as he dropped it on the ground, unlatching the lock and throwing the top open. There were various sizes of jewelry boxes inside. She gave him a look. "You trying to make a pretty penny or were you playing Robin Hood?"

He was growing annoyed. "If I said yes to the latter, will you leave me to my booty?"

"Nope," Buffy said, popping the 'p'. She closed it and hauled it over her shoulder. "Where's this going back to?"

He growled and shoved the chest from her precarious grip. "The floor."

It did indeed go back to the floor.

She gave him a dead stare. "I'm not in the mood for games, Spike." Then she stepped forward and punched him square in the jaw.

He growled again, gripping her straight arm into a lock and raising it over both their heads. He jabbed her in the stomach and stepped on her foot for good measure. She grunted, slamming her head back into his.

"Really. Not. In the mood, Spike!" she yelled, using her weight to throw him into a wall.

His head bounced off it and his grip on her lessened. She backed away and dove for the chest, but he was right behind her and circling his arms around her waist, holding her arms and elbows down against her torso.

"Luv, I think your Slayer status is getting a wee bit to your head."

She snorted, throwing him back against the wall. This felt like some demented live version of pinball. "Please elaborate why."

"I'm just trying to make a buck here!"

She actually laughed. "Are you trying to pin me for a grinch?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah." He actually released her of his own accord and watched as she went to lean against the sarcophagus.

"Please explain this demented logic to me so I can laugh before I pummel your undead brains out."

He shrugged again. "It's simple, really. These shinies were just going back to India to be melted down and resold at inflated prices anyway. I was pretty much going down the same route, with a little more freelance flair."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at this, crossing her arms to her chest. "Oh, that's rich. A vampire trying to justify his actions."

"It's business," he sniffed. "Anyone else coulda done it. Would you have pummeled them the same way you did me?"

"Shyeah!"

He raised his eyebrows. "A human?" he asked, spitting the word out like it had a horrible taste.

She shrugged. "Well, not so much of the pummeling unless necessary..."

"Knew a kid in the '70s who used to sell blow. Used the money to go to school, he did. Thought that was right genius that I didn't even eat him." He paused. "Dru did, though."

"You're really explaining unconventional marketing skills to me right now," she said incredulously.

"Well, to be honest, I wasn't sure you'd listen," he scoffed, sounding just as incredulous.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "A vampire pleading honesty--" She was cut off by her cell phone ringing. "--hello? Hey, Wills! No, I'm not with him yet. Oh, it's done? That was quick and I didn't even feel--Really? Huh. Okay. Thanks, bye!" She hung up and looked at the vampire. "So what were you saying?"

"I was merely pointing out that the lines can be right blurry ethically when it comes to, well, what you described as unconventional marketing..."

"And I'm guessing you're saying that this goes for vampires as well?" she asked, not sounding convinced.

"You're putting words in my mouth, Slayer. I'm making a generalization. What do you think gangs are formed for? Their ultimatum is in the overall scheme of things to make a transaction. Except sometimes the debt is not paid for with money but someone's life—and then, uh, their money, usually. But look at the way the IRS repossesses everything to satisfy a debt. Isn't that in a way taking someone's life as well? The ideal of values is still inherent."

She sighed. "Spike, it's still stealing."

"Is it? Is it the worst thing I coulda done? Could someone—someone human—done worse?"

She felt a headache blooming. "You're such a bullshit artist!"

He smirked. "Am I, though?"

"Spike, it's definitely not my job to be philosophizing. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"Well, yeah. You think I ponder about the right and wrongs of me drainin' someone? No, because in the grand scheme of things, I need to bloody eat. But does that make me inherently evil or is that just me going according to my nature?"

She grew frustrated. Her face screwed up into a frown. "I can't listen to this—"

"No. You won't. There's a difference," he said in clipped tones. "How can you say for sure that your 'duties' are good or evil?"

"I'm slaying—"

"You're killing! Do you think Slayers have thought about the repercussions of killing a demon? Some are completely harmless and I really doubt any of you have thought if you've taken someone away from a family or whatever kinship—"

"You're really asking me this," she deadpanned. "You know exactly what you're doing when you sink your teeth into a human."

"Yeah," he said passionately. "But you have to admit that you don't think very much about it when you run a blade through a Fyarl, do you?"

Buffy was uncharacteristically silent.

"Yeah," he spat. "Digest that."

"It's not my duty to regularly question my actions," she said softly, sounding as though she had just come to the realization.

He took a cigarette from a crumpled pack and stuck it in his mouth. "Don't drive yourself crazy, luv. None of us really do." He lit it with his Zippo and took a deep pull.

She smiled hesitantly. "You're still an evil vampire," she said, almost affectionately.

He laughed, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. "Yeah. And you're still a pretty bloody annoying Slayer."

She raised her eyebrows and gestured to the chest. "You still want that?"

"Fuck yeah I do," he snorted, inching it closer with his toe.

She shot out her leg and watched him fall haphazardly to the ground.

She suddenly felt compelled to straddle his lap, and did. He raised his hand buried it in her silky tresses.

"I wouldn't mind having more conversations like this, Slayer," he commented airily. "Fighting, arguing..." His pupils were dilated and hooded with lust. "Anything that exhilarates you exhilarates me, luv."

Buffy couldn't help the groan that escaped past her lips as she leaned in to press her mouth to his. He fisted her hair, his hand disappearing under her shirt to trail his fingertips up her spine. She shivered against his touch.

"You always remind me of what I am," she whispered. She didn't know if it was a gift or a curse.

"Yeah, well, so do you," he murmured.

Their mouths fused together for another kiss. Spike rolled her over onto her back, circling his arms around her waist and settling between her thighs. He mouthed her breasts through her shirt and she gasped as he adroitly undid her jeans and slid his fingers in between her folds.

"Unh," she gasped, writhing her hips against his ministrations.

He grinned. "Like it when you're agreeable."

Buffy didn't say a word as he slid down her body, pulling her pants and underwear down with him. He licked and sucked at her cunny, humming in delight when she arched against his face. She writhed underneath him, moaning as he slid two fingers into her wet pussy, his tongue still making lazy circles around her clit.

"OhgodSpikeplease!"

He withdrew to leer at her, his mouth glistening almost tauntingly with her juices. He got rid of his pants and slipped up her body, pressing soft kisses to every spot of skin he came across on his way up.

"Spike, please!" she whimpered, shaking.

He positioned his cock at her entrance and with methodical slowness and torturous gyrations of his hips slid into her to the hilt. She was a blubbering mess underneath him and he liked it. A lot.

Their lips met as their hips feverishly pitched forth to meet one another. She scratched her nails down his back as he raked over her gspot again and again.

"So soaked for me, luv," he whispered in her ear.

She shuddered and gave a hoarse shout as she came suddenly, strangling his dick with her muscles and bringing him along for the ride.

--

Willow was met with Buffy's voicemail. The herb that she'd needed for the spell had stopped glowing, which meant that whatever confrontation the Slayer had had with Riley had come to a positive conclusion.

"Buffy?" she spoke to the voicemail. "Did it work?"

She smiled to herself as she hung up the phone.


Chapter End Notes:
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