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THANK YOU Mel, for the amazing banner! I love it!

Authors Chapter Notes:
This story was requested by a great reader and reviewer, fyreburned, who's been going through a rough patch!
She specifically asked for a Spike/Buffy/William PWP, and this is the closest I could come up with, as plot kept nagging me to be let in.
This chapter is where plot basically ends, and the following two are pure smut. Be warned, there is m/f/m, m/m, rough sex, bloodplay, and mention of Buffy/Other (the last one just in the first couple of paragraphs)
This is the first time I write anything like that, and I'm more than nervous about it, so please take a moment and let me know what you thought of it.
Thank you as always to Im_bloody_English for being the best beta I could ask for! Thank you also to Darkrivertempest and Dusty273 for urging me on and cheering me up. Finally a 'Thank you' to Katkin, who's never gonna read this cuz it isn't her cuppa, but who makes me smile!


PS. The plot that kept nagging me may result into a proper (not PWP) story, as a sequel to this if you guys like it!

PS2. *smacks forehead* Being nervous and excited about posting this I forgot to say that Darkrivertempest was also the one that came up with the name for this fic (which was known as 'the 3some fic' up until the day before it was posted :P) Thanks again babe, you're a doll!!!

Buffy lay in her double bed, legs spread and bent at the knees, heels planted on the mattress, one arm outstretched, pouting at the Immortal.

“Come ooon,” she whined. “You promised to show me your real face! You did!” The hand that wasn’t fiddling with the wooden pattern on the side panel of the bed lightly grazed his inner thigh. “You said if I did… ‘that’, you’d show me your real face, and I did it, twice!

The man smirked and she was hit by how little, *more like nothing,* that grin did for her.

“Cara mia, you know I’m a vain man, and I fear I might lose you if you saw the demon hidden beneath this façade. You understand my hesitance, yes?”

“No, no I don’t! And I can promise you, whatever I may see will make no difference whatsoever in how I feel about you!”

“Do you swear, mi amor?” He turned his body to face her. “Do you swear it will not come between us?”

“Pinky swear!” She smiled her sweetest smile and batted her eyelashes. It was all it took for the Immortal to give in to her plea.

His skin began to sink inwards, his body shrinking in front of her eyes until the vibrant, well-muscled man she’d gone to bed with turned into nothing more than a mummy, years – eons – taking their toll before her very eyes. Buffy was surprised to hear his vocal chords still worked, when in a voice that reminded her of sand-paper grating against stone he asked, “Do you feel the same about me now?”

“Oh, I feel just like before baby.” Lightning quick, she drew the sword she kept under her bed and lay its razor-sharp edge against the creature’s neck. “I still despise you!”

“Elisabeth, cara…” He seemed to flex his fleshless jaw as he tried to reason with her.

“I told you, it’s Buffy!” She slightly increased the pressure of the sword until his paper-thin skin ripped in a half-inch tear and green liquid seeped out. *Ewww! Sooo glad we used protection!* “And don’t try to shift back, same book that said how you can only be killed in true form also said steel touching you prevents your metamorphosis.” His eyes seemed to widen even more despite his current lack of eyelids. “What? Surprised I can read or that I can pronounce ‘metamorphosis’? I can spell it too, you know! M-e-t-… never mind, not that you’ll live to tell anyone if I can’t. Now, any last wishes?”

The Immortal hadn’t lived long enough to earn himself the nickname by being stupid. Of course he had underestimated this slip of a girl now sitting beside him and holding the means to his demise in her small hand. But he wouldn’t do that again. Instead of pleading for his life, he decided to offer her something worthy of letting him live.

“What would it take for you to forget you ever met me, Buffy?” He asked through clenched teeth. “If I offered you whatever your heart desired? If I could make anything in your mind come true?” He turned his uncovered eyeballs to her face. “This offer has no limits, other than you have to take it now!”

*Anything? Spike… My Spike returned to me… with his soul shining through his eyes?* She choked down a sob at the thought of the last time she had seen him, the flames engulfing their joined hands. He wouldn’t have died – well, not permanently, anyway – if it weren’t for that soul. *Even without the soul I loved him, I just didn’t know… didn’t wanna know. Who needs it anyway?* He was still Spike, still loved her, soul or not.

She bit her lower lip, eyes never leaving the dehydrated body next to her as she contemplated what, *whom*, she would choose given the opportunity. Would she trust soulless Spike if she could have him back? She so would! He’d proven himself over and over again but she refused to see it at the time. If she could, she’d show him it didn’t matter, that she loved all of him: man and demon. *Of course with the soul he would fit in more easily. He wouldn’t constantly have to fight against his baser instincts. But I guess he could still have the chip…*

The Immortal, ever the gentleman, let out a slight cough which succeeded in bringing her back to the ‘here and now’.

“You can’t give me what I want.” Her eyes were narrowed to slits, trying to suppress the tears that wanted to surface. “No one can, so you can do the next best thing for me and die!” *God, I love them both! Maybe two Spikes? Heck, this is ‘Wish-land’, I can ask for as many as I want! Not like I’m gonna get them, anyway!*

“Do you know what you want?” The shell of a man asked as she lifted her elbow to give her arm momentum without removing the steel blade from his throat. “That is all it will take for me to give it to you-” sensing her hesitation, however brief, he chanced a term of endearment “-cara.”

She ignored him, but her hand still didn’t deal the killing stroke. *Yes, two Spikes! One without the soul and one with! And they’d have to understand and accept each other’s existence… cuz jealous Spike? Not so much with the reasoning! God, I’m losing it. Spike was never much with the reasoning anyway. Why do I keep torturing myself? I can’t have him back, any version of him.* She let out the desperate laughter of a person on the verge of a breakdown brought about by grief.

“Can I see what you want?” he asked.

She knew what he meant, so she granted him access to her mind with a curt nod.

She knew he could read her thoughts when she let him, but had no way of manipulating them. *He couldn’t hold a candle to one Spike when it comes to pleasuring me, let him see how much he lacks when faced with two!* She deliberately led her thoughts to envision being entangled with both souled and un-souled Spike, all three whispering words of love between moans, all as a blow to the Immortal’s ego before she took his unnaturally long life away.

When she felt his presence in her mind subside, she looked at him with undisguised malice – the only way she knew how to deal with her loss – and said in a saccharine voice, “Let’s see you give me that!”

“Done, cara. Enjoy!”

And suddenly the world went black.


Spike – or rather William these days – had spent every night of the year that went by since the one that would forever stay in his mind as ‘The-Night-The-Good-Guys-Got-Screwed-Over’ the same way. Brooding and writing, becoming more like the Poof, *God rest his soul*, every single day. *No, not the Poof, like that ponce, William. That is why you go by his name again, remember?*

He wrote poetry every chance he got these days. Poetry about her, the love of his life, *un-life… er, who gives a fuck?*, the woman he hadn’t been man enough to go after when he was shoved back in this existence. His hair had grown out and, in one of his very few moments of caring enough about his looks to want to destroy them, he’d had the peroxide tips cut at a demon barber-shop.

He even took to speaking in his old accent and wearing glasses again. Just for the sake of leaving nothing worth noticing about his appearance as he spent his evenings in a British-style pub, brimming with other lonely people. *Not ‘other people’, just people. They’re people, you are not! You’re a pathetic excuse for a vampire and an even worse one for a man. That’s why the only sunshine in your life is currently shagging the bloody Immortal!*

He desperately needed a smoke but had enforced himself abstinence from all pleasures. Maybe if he could stick with it long enough he’d stop feeling so tainted. Maybe he’d even work up the courage to one day show up on her doorstep. *Maybe I could send her a poem, see if she figures out it’s me.* She most probably wouldn’t care, even if she figured it out. But he went back to writing his latest creation anyway.

It seems like a million times
We’ve been through it all…
Again and again,
reaching conclusions, finding solutions.
For me, sleepless nights,
for you anger, frustration…
and all this to prove to each other
our lack of need, our independence…
Both fighters, both survivors,
neither with a chance to win.
This is a fight with one’s self,
this is a fight to prevail.
A fight, alas, among equals;
there can be no winner.
We will both lose, should this go on,
and the price is high
- at least for me –
In the battle to keep our boundaries,
can we afford to lose one another?
We lost, Buffy, we lo-

*Oi! Where’d the lights go? Don’t need lights anyway… bloody vampire here!*

He didn’t manage another thought before being drawn in oblivion.


*She didn’t mean it, she can’t have meant it!* Spike kicked at the shambles that used to be his crypt. Used to, that is, before the bane-of-his-existence-slash-woman-of-his-dreams and her overgrown git of an ex boyfriend had crashed the place in their efforts to kill harmless bugs! *Maybe I should 'ave told her the truth, that they were a mate’s sprogs… Naaah! She din’t care about the truth, did she? She wouldn’ have gotten her ‘out-of-jail-free’ card if she did… And to call me ‘William’!*

He’d find demon-girl and get a spell to get The Slayer out of his system! That was the only thing that might work.

A couple of unfortunate vampires that crossed his path on his way to the Magic Shop were dusted faster than you can say ‘stake’, but that did nothing to alleviate either his fury or his grief. If it wasn’t for the bloody chip in his head this would be the night that he’d say ‘bugger that’ and go back to hunting. Not that he had to prove anything anymore, right? *Wrong, you wanker, and you know it! You’ll be love’s bitch ‘til you dust… Hmmm, that dustin’ part doesn’ sound too bad now, does it?*

Before he knew it he was at the door to the shop, but as he raised his hand to push it open he felt like he was sucked into… *What the bleeding hell is goin’ on? If I get my hands on Red…* and then… nothing.


Buffy stirred, trying to gather her wits enough to feel her surroundings. She was laying on her side, on a soft surface, covered with what felt like a sheet. *Am I naked under here? Did I at least get to kill the asshole?* The room she was in was not well lit from what she could gather without raising her eyelids. And she was getting tinglies at the back of her neck. All too familiar tinglies she hadn’t felt in the two-years-and-something, *792 days, but who’s counting?*, since she’d last felt him. With a prayer in her heart, she hesitantly raised her lids to…

…look into the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen, *his eyes*, gazing back at her with adoration!

“Spike?” Her voice was choked as she reluctantly raised her hand to touch his perfectly shaped cheekbone. *If this is a dream, I’d rather die before waking up.*

“Right here, luv, that pillock 's more of a ‘William’” Spike’s voice startled her, as it came from behind her.

She rolled on her back, careful to hold the sheet covering her breasts in place and was met by a cool touch… no, two cool touches, one on either side, before she saw the peroxide-blonde curls.

For a while she could do nothing but snap her neck back and forth between the two men bracketing her on the bed, each holding one of her arms. *Vampires. My vampires.* She tried to think, to figure things out, but her brain was stuck and her heart was beating so fast she felt like it was going to burst through her chest. So she just laid there, opening and shutting her mouth, saying nothing as she took in the subtle – and not so subtle – differences between them.

Spike, the most likely un-souled, chipped, cocky Spike, sported the same look he always had – well ‘before’, that is – all black attire, leer and duster included. The other, ‘William’, looked shy, barely lifting his eyes to her as she perused his sandy locks and dull brown suit with the suede patches on the elbows.

“How? What? Was it…” realizing she made no sense, she took a deep breath and looked at the wall opposite her bed before voicing her question. “Did the Immortal do it? Is it really you?”

“I guess the ponce finally managed somethin’ other than jus’ shaggin’ you.” He buried his hand in the duster’s pocket, frantically searching for something.

“Shut up, Spike.” William looked hurt as he chastised his younger self. “And don’t light that!” he added as Spike found the packet of Marlboros and brought one to his mouth. And surprisingly, Spike did as he was told.

“What? Am I the only one gifted with the knowledge of everythin’ that happened from my ‘when’ to now?” He cocked his eyebrow. “An’ I also happen to know somethin’ about you that’ll really piss the Slayer off… like where you’ve been all this time. Oh, say… L.A.?”

“What? Sp—William?” Buffy was derailed from her thoughts on how this miracle happened to hurt at the knowledge her lover had been alive, er, still existing in LA and not come for her all this time… hiding from her. She turned back on her side towards William. “Why?” A single tear fell from her eye while the rest of her face seemed carved in stone.

“I—I wasn’t sure you would want me… You said, before I died, you said… something, and I did not want to hear you take it back.” He sighed, ducking his head so she wouldn’t see him cry. “And when I saw you with the Immortal… I guess I didn’t want to chase another chimera.”

“First of all, did you just call me a British word for bitch?”

“No, luv,” Spike intervened. “What he meant to say was tha’ he din’t want to chase another dream.”

“Thank you, Spike.” She didn’t even throw him a glance over her shoulder. “And what do you mean ‘saw me with the Immortal’?” She raised her hand and Spike was sure she was getting ready to throw a punch.

Instead, she cupped William’s chin and lifted his face to hers. “Know what? Never mind. That’s behind us.” She paused, trying to remember the word he’d used and taking a mental note to definitely pursue the matter further in the future, despite her current act of nonchalance. “I’m not a she-mare or whatever you said. I’m Buffy, your Buffy and I love you, you—you shirty man!” She kissed him and it was like tasting heaven again, though his smell and taste had changed on the surface – with the alcohol and tobacco gone from his breath – it was still his lips. *Spike-lips… lips of Spike!* It was like coming home.

“Right, I’m off then!” She felt Spike’s weight shift on her other side as he sat up ready to get off the bed.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Her hand flew to the sleeve of his duster, staying him before she shifted on her back once more, modesty forgotten this time. She reached her free hand to gently caress William’s fingers as they now played with her hair, chancing a glance his way and smiling sweetly at the awe-struck look on his face then mouthing ‘I love you’ and turning her attention back to the bristling vampire on her right.

“Oh, right! Jus’ cuz I’m not all Mr. Soulful like that one-” he indicated William with a nod “-means I’m a threat to the good people of… Rome, is it?” He was pissed off and hurt and wondered if the chip would still let him hit her, because he craved a good sparring with her. To his credit, he refrained from stealing a glance at the rosy tip of her breast that peeked out at him from above the sheet.

“No, Spike, you’re not-”

He didn’t let her finish, he just went on ranting. “Of course! I’m toothless now. What was the word you used when I was in ol’ Rupe’s bathtub? Fangless, tha’s it!” *Though I could still shag you halfway through next week!*

“Will you shut up and listen to me?”

“No! I’ve done enough of that, an’ look what it got me. Seems I have to get on the next plane to Africa if you’ll wanna have anythin’ to do with me. ‘Course for that to happen I’d have to try an’ ra-” He cut himself off and screwed his eyes shut at that. *Better punch myself in the nose before either of them does.*

William withdrew his hand from her golden locks as if slapped and when Buffy turned to see what was wrong, he was cringing away from her, tears freely streaming down his sharp cheekbones. So she did what she felt she had to.

She punched Spike square in the face.


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