Spike's head was going to explode. Kerplow. Grey matter everywhere. He shut the book with a loud thwack and tossed it onto the Giles's coffee table. He didn't even know why he was helping out to begin with.

"Spike, have you ever heard of the Box of Ramrona?" Willow asked from her place in front of her laptop.

"Yeah, it's some sort of Pandora's Box for the Sylvan," Spike replied. "They store all their mistakes in it, which is a bloody stupid idea, if you ask me."

"Thanks," Willow said, giving him a small smile. "You're better than the Occult Dictionary."

Well, maybe he did know. Smiling inwardly at the fact that at least someone realized that he wasn't just all good looks, he stood and patted his breast pocket for his cigarettes. He still needed to take a break before his brain liquified and ran out his nose.

However, he didn't want to just leave. Not that he really cared if they thought him rude. It was more along the lines that he wanted to keep earning Brownie Points from the Slayer, because the more he earned, the more quickly she'd hike up her skirts for him. And there was nothing sweeter on the earth than the feel of her hot quim.

Great, now he was horny and brain-dead. He wished Buffy would get back already so he could give her a quick seeing to out behind Giles's place. There was lovely hedge that blocked the sight of them shagging back there, he knew that from experience.

Sighing, Spike decided he might as well be, yuck, nice and do a 'food run' for the Slayer's chums. He was in the mood for some french fries smothered in ketchup anyway. Grabbing the pad of paper and pen he'd been using to aid with the research, he cleared his throat to get the others' attention.

"I'm hungry and feelin' charitable, so who wants what from the drive-thru?" Spike said.

"Ooh, can I have a chocolate milkshake?" Willow said.

"Number five, Coke," Xander said, raising his hand, though his eyes never left the book he was looking at.

"Giles?" Spike prompted.

"What? Oh...ah, fries, if you please," Giles said. "I do believe I have vinegar here."

"Got it," Spike said, jotting down the orders. The things he did for a piece of tail. "Well, I'm off. Try not to have too much fun without me."

Spike grabbed his duster on his way out of the ex-Watcher's home and slid the familiar leather over his arms. His newly stolen motor was parked next to the dilapidated Citroen, some moron having left the keys in the ignition. A new paint job and out of state plates insured that it would be a long time, if ever, that the owner got it back.

The trip to the drive-thru itself was uneventful. He smoked, listened to some good shit on the radio, and further flattened an already-dead cat. The head made a great sound when he ran over it, making him smile.

He turned into the lot and pulled up behind a long line of cars going through the drive-thru. He wasn't in a hurry, so he didn't care about the wait. It amused him to realize that, at times, it took longer for people to go through the drive-thru than it did to go inside and carry their supper out.

The passenger door suddenly opened and a tiny blond jumped into his motor. "Hi," Buffy greeted breathlessly, slamming the door shut behind her and ducking down low in the seat.

"Hello, pet," Spike said, glancing out the passenger window. He saw six, burly linebacker-types come out from around the next building over. "Friends of yours?"

"I forgot I was suppose to be a girl and I sort of knocked one of their buddies out," she replied sheepishly. "And they're all just plain ol' drunk football players, too, so I figured I'd better just run away before I got the lecture from Giles."

"Well, they're gone now, luv," he told her. The car in front of him moved forward, and he lifted his foot of the brake to move forward, too.

"Good," Buffy said, straightening in her seat. She double-checked out the side window, then turned to lean back against the passenger door, tucking one booted foot under her other knee. "So, what're you doing at the drive-thru?"

"I'm knicking the Mona Lisa, what do you think I'm doing?" Spike replied.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I meant what are you doing here, and not Xander? He's our resident go for munchies guy."

"I was feelin' hospitable."

"You?" Buffy started to laugh.

"Shut up," Spike told her.

"Make me," Buffy said between her laughs.

Spike arched his brow as he looked at her, and grinned. "Okay," he said. Then he grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him. He closed his eyes against the pain in his head, but her muffled curses at him from her face now being in his lap made it bearable.

"Say, while you're down there, luv, be a dear and give us a blow," Spike said casually.

Buffy turned her head and glared up at his leering face. She was about to rip his cock off and shove it in his mouth as she told him to give his own damn self a blow when an idea hit her. Plus, she was kind of horny anyway and was going to suggest they stop somewhere on the way back to Giles's for a quickie.

"Oh fine," she said dramatically, then giggled when Spike's face reflected surprise. She repositioned herself across the seat and used his thighs as props in order to free the sudden bulge beneath the denim of his jeans. She glanced up again to see him watching her with hunger in his eyes. "Watch the road, dear."

Spike raised his eyes from her delectable face near his crotch and saw that the car in front of him had moved forward again. He let his foot off the brake and had to abruptly slam it in order not to rear-end the motor ahead of him as Buffy took his cock into her warm, wet mouth.

"Oh hell, Slayer," he groaned softly, clenching and unclenching the steering wheel with one hand as her tongue swirled over the sensitive head of his shaft. His other hand brushed repeatedly over the back of her blond hair, and he groaned again when she sucked down on him.

The car ahead moved forward, he moved forward, then he dropped his eyes for a moment to see her bobbing over his lap. It was an unbelievably carnal sight, and his foot accidentally slipped off the brake. His foot jerked down and his eyes jerked up, fearing an accident that would end this wonderful blow, but the motor in front of him had moved forward again.

The ordering screen was now two car-lengths away. He fumbled for the scrap of paper with the orders he'd scribbled on it. He almost dropped it twice as her teeth scraped along the underside of his cock. The other car moved forward and now he was next.

"Slayer," Spike hissed, pushing the button for the automatic window. "I have to order."

"So order," Buffy replied, rubbing the tip of her tongue over the small slit on the head of his cock. She looked up at him. "I want a Diet Coke, please."

"You need to fucking eat more than that, pet," he said, looking down at her.

She gave him a wicked grin. "Oh, I plan to."

The car ahead of him moved forward, he moved forward, she sucked down hard on his cock until her nose was buried in the denim of his jeans. Spike let out a strangled cry of pleasure.

"Hi, welcome to McRonald's, can I interest you in one of our value meals?" the speaker chirped at the vampire.

Spike pried his jaw apart so he could speak. "Er, yeah, I want a number fi-eeeve," he squealed, as Buffy nipped him. He cleared his throat. "With a Coke. A medium Diet Coke. A, uh..."

He tried to focus on the paper in his hand, but the pressure was building in his balls at an unbelievable rate. Buffy's mouth slid over him with unrelenting cruelness. He knew nothing short of him yanking her off his prick was going to make her stop.

"Two large fries," he said quickly between clenched teeth. "And a chohhhhh damn you." His hips bucked up into her mouth as white-heat streaked up his cock. The paper in his hand crackled as he crushed it, a deep growl rumbling in the car as he orgasmed.

"I got a number five with a Coke, a medium Diet, two large fries and a chocolate shake. That'll be ten-ninety-three, first window please," the speaker chirped.

Buffy tucked Spike back away in his jeans, then sat up, sliding back over to her own side of the car. She rubbed her stomach. "Yummy."

Spike blinked several times to clear his vision, then took his foot off the brake. Without a word, he stopped at the first window, handed over his money, got his seven cents change, then pulled up to the second window.

"You do realize I'm going to get you back, luv," he finally said. He accepted the bag of food and passed it to the grinning Slayer.

"I know," she said. She took the cardboard drink holder and carefully set it on the floor by her feet, next to where she put the food bag. Then, as Spike was pulling away from the drive-thru window, she laid back down again with her cheek resting on his thigh. She sighed. "Guess I'll just have to deal."

Spike glanced at her as he got the car underway. The streetlights cast flickering shadows across her cheek and jawline. He couldn't stop his right hand from dropping to her head and brushing his fingers over her hair. She sighed again, snuggling down on his thigh.

"Wake me when we get there," Buffy said, marveling over the fact that the hard muscle beneath the denim was so comfortable. She let her eyes drift shut and relaxed to Spike's fingers stroking her hair.

And at the same time they both thought, **I could get used to this.**

"Why am I here again?" Spike asked as he led the way down the back row.

"Because Cordelia sent us six tickets and Riley was busy, " Buffy answered him.

Spike snorted derisively at Superpansy's name. He flopped down into a thinly-padded folding seat and propped his foot up on the back of the seat in front of him. Buffy sat down beside him, then Willow, Giles, Anya and finally Xander filled in the remaining assigned seats.

The 500-seat, little theater was rapidly becoming full. It was opening night of Laura, a mystery in which Cordelia had won the starring role of a wealthy socialite who had been supposedly murdered. It had come as a surprise when Giles had received the tickets -- both the brunette's role and that she sent the tickets at all.

Xander had pointed out that Queen C probably wanted everyone there to rub her success in their faces. The friends readily agreed with him, and they decided to allow their one-time friend gloating rights.

Thus, on Friday night, they piled in Giles's new Blazer and drove down to Los Angeles. Buffy had invited Spike to come along only because the blond vampire had shown up at the ex-Watcher's as they were leaving. She told herself it had nothing to do with the disappointed look she'd caught as he'd turned to leave.

Buffy shivered when a gust of cold air hit her as she leafed through the program. She looked up and scowled. "Great. I'm right under the air conditioning," she grumbled. She glanced over at the blond vampire sitting beside her. "Spike, gimme your jacket."

Spike looked up from his own program. "Do what?"

"Give me your coat. I'm cold," Buffy said.

He arched a brow at her demand. "Do you think I care?"

"Come on, Spike, you don't even feel the cold," Buffy said. She rubbed her bare arms and shivered again. She gave him her best defenseless innocent-girl look. "I'll even say 'please.'"

"That look isn't going to work, pet. I know for a fact you're anything but innocent," Spike told her. He stood up and began to remove his duster. "If I let you use this as a blanket, you're going to owe me..." His lips curled up in a leer as he let his sentence trail off.

Buffy debated briefly as to whether she wanted to be indebted to him or suffer frostbite instead. The last time he'd collected on an IOU, she hadn't been able to sit down for an hour because parts of her that had never been touched before were touched quite intimately. Then again, the small pain and discomfort had had a surprisingly pleasurable side-effect.

She shivered again and made her decision. "Fine, I'll owe you," she said. "Now hand it over before I go into cryo-freeze."

Spike blatantly licked his lips in a predatory manner as his eyes raked over Buffy's body, stopping purposely to ogle the twin points her nipples made against her thin, spaghetti-strap shirt, attesting to her coldness.

Buffy glared at him and snatched the leather duster out of his hands. "Pig."

"If you wore more clothes, Slayer, you wouldn't be cold," Spike said, flopping back down into his seat.

"At least I'm dressed up," Buffy told him. "Just like Willow and Giles and Anya and Xander...well, sort of like Xander."

"It's not like I had fair warning that I'd be coming to the theater," he said.

"You wouldn't have dressed up anyway," she said pointedly.

"True."

Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled the duster around her like a blanket. The scent of the old leather, tobacco and maleness tickled her senses. The material was soft and well-worn, and it caressed her bare skin like a lover's comforting touch.

She moaned softly in pleasure as she pulled the duster even closer around her bare shoulders, the long length of it brushing over her bare legs. Now she knew why Spike was always wearing the coat. If it was hers, she'd never take it off. In fact, she might never give it back again.

A small smile played over Spike's lips as he watched the Slayer close her eyes, a blissful expression on her face as she snuggled under his duster. He heard her almost inaudible sound of satisfaction and, for an instant, he wished it was him that had made her look so content.

The lights lowered and the blond vampire dragged his attention away from Buffy, slightly disgusted with himself. Sex, he told himself. It's only sex.

The play started as a few latecomers trickled into the theater. Buffy began to swear under her breath as a very tall, very broad, linebacker-type sat right in front of her.

She tried leaning as far over towards Willow as she could, but the overly large guy put his big, beefy arm around the girl sitting beside him, pulling her closer and thus blocking Buffy's view. The Slayer then leaned on the armrest separating herself and Spike, and her swearing grew more colorful as a curly mop of hair prevented her from seeing the stage.

"Thanks for the last row tickets, Cordelia," she muttered unhappily.

"What's wrong, ducks?" Spike asked, leaning closer to her. "You're wiggling around like your knickers are riding up."

"I can't see," Buffy said quietly.

"And?"

Buffy shot him a glare. "And I'd like to watch the play. I didn't come all this way to stare at the back of someone's head for two hours."

"Want to switch?" Spike asked.

She blinked once in shock. "You'd do that?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise, Slayer," he replied in exasperation.

Buffy looked at the person sitting in front of him and shook her head with a sigh. "It still wouldn't matter. I'm too short. The second she moved I wouldn't be able to see again."

Spike frowned at the woman seated in front of him and quickly made a decision. A happy Slayer was an easily-shaggable Slayer. "Come here," he ordered quietly, patting his thigh.

Buffy looked at him in question. "What?"

He sighed heavily. "Come. Here," he repeated slowly.

"You want me to sit on your lap?"

"No, I want you to suck me off in front of your chums," he replied with a short clip to his words, indicating he was getting ticked off.

"No need to get pissy," Buffy snapped. "I just wanted to make sure that's what you meant."

"Yes it's what I meant," he said. "Now, get your sweet arse over here before I change my mind."

Buffy huffed at him, but she moved anyway. His bare arms went around her waist, pulling her snuggle back against him, the curve of her backside molding to the front of him. He was sitting tall in his seat, allowing her to lean her head back against the crook of his shoulder with ease. She pulled the duster back up over her body and ignored the fact that she could feel a bulge growing bigger and harder against her clothed backside.

The Slayer was happy to find that she could see quite well and her heart swelled slightly at Spike's thoughtfulness. "Thanks," she whispered.

Spike grunted something that sounded like "you're welcome" but she couldn't be sure. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Willow giving her a perplexed look and Buffy turned her head to mouth that she couldn't see. The redhead nodded once and went back to watching the play.

Buffy turned her attention to the stage and was wrapped up in the story within minutes. It didn't hurt that the actor playing the Detective was a megga-hottie. When Cordelia came on stage, the Slayer could easily see why her former quasi-friend was the titular character, Laura -- a stuck-up socialite with a spine of steel and a hidden heart.

Buffy didn't realize how involved she had gotten in the unfolding plot until she was yanked back to reality with a gasp as a strong finger brushed against her sex. She hadn't felt Spike's hand move from around her waist to slip under her skirt and push aside her panties. The tip of his index finger traced an erotic pattern in her nest of curls and her mouth opened in shock.

"Spike," she squeaked softly.

"Spread your thighs for me, luv," Spike whispered in a low, seductive voice near her ear. "Please."

It was the please that had her opening her legs wider for him, her skirt riding up higher as she moved under the duster. She felt Spike's other hand join his first one near the apex of her thighs and he used it to hold her panties to one side.

Spike's playing finger delved into her mound, combing the hair that he knew to be a dark brown in color free from her feminine folds. He gently stroked her soft hidden lips, lightly running the tip of his finger around her most sensitive button of flesh. He continued to tease her until she wiggled her hips back against the erection he'd had since she'd slid onto his lap.

Buffy pressed her lips together tightly when she felt Spike's finger slide deep inside of her moist channel. Her vaginal muscles clenched instinctively around him and she inhaled a shaky breath through her nose as he curled his finger upwards. Unbelievable pleasure shot through her when he rubbed the upper wall of her inner core, stimulating her g-spot. She barely managed to hold back a moan as he continued to torture her that way.

"You're so hot," he whispered silkily by her ear. "So wet."

She whimpered in the back of her throat as a second finger joined the first inside of her body. He began to slide the digits in and out of her, his thumb finding her distended clit with ease. He pressed down on her clitoris and started to massage the super-sensitive pearl in a circular motion, causing her to close her eyes tightly as completely wonderful sensations washed over her.

"I want to be inside you, Slayer," he told her quietly in a deep voice tinged with tightly restrained passion, his fingers and thumb moving faster with each word. "I want bury myself deep inside your softness. I want to feel your inner muscles quivering around my aching cock like they are around my fingers. I want to hear you gasp and moan and whimper my name out loud as I thrust in and out of your slick core. I want to be anywhere but in this bloody theater surrounded by hundreds of people touching you under the cover of darkness and my duster."

Buffy bit down hard on her lower lip as she exploded into orgasm from his touch and his words. He had released the edge of her panties with his other hand and had wrapped his arm tightly around her waist to hold her firmly to him. Her fingernails sank into his forearms as she tried not to buck wildly as her climax went on and on.

Finally, he moved his hand away from her still-quivering pussy and brought it out from under the duster. The perfect concession stand snack, he thought, before he sucked his fingers into his mouth, inhaling her musky scent and tasting her juices that clung to his digits. His cock throbbed uncomfortably beneath the denim of his trousers and he wished that they could leave so he could fuck her long and hard.

The lights came up, startling both Buffy and Spike, the former slamming her legs shut under the duster. She felt her face flaming and knew that if anyone looked at her they would know exactly what Spike had been doing. She scrambled to her feet, held the duster in front of her and quickly headed down the row away from her friends to another exit from the auditorium.

Spike pressed the heel of his palm to his erection, trying to adjust himself enough that he could stand up and walk somewhat normally. He glanced over at Willow two seats away, who was gathering her purse together. "It's not over already, is it?" he asked.

"Intermission," Willow said. "You have fifteen minutes if you want to smoke."

Fifteen minutes, he thought, rising to his feet and heading for the same exit that the Slayer had left through. Fifteen whole minutes to drag Buffy back behind the theater and shag her against the building's wall. He could do that.

When Spike exited the auditorium, he scowled angrily. People in various modes of fancy dress milled about the lounge area. Finding his woman in the crowd would eat up valuable sex time. He growled and began to stalk through the crowd, his eyes searching for the Slayer.

Instead, he found his Sire.

"Oh bugger," Spike swore when he saw Angel standing beside a man who was as tall as the poof, oval glasses adorning his face. Angel turned his gaze right to the blond vampire and Spike began to swear more viciously.

Turning, Spike shoved his way through the crowd towards the clearly marked restrooms. He rapidly entered the men's room and went right to the sink. He turned the hot water on full blast and thrust his hands under the scalding stream, quickly trying to wash away Buffy's unmistakable scent.

In the back of his mind, he wondered why he was scrubbing his skin off rather than rubbing his affair with the Slayer in Angel's nose...quite literally, if he didn't wash his hands. He tried to tell himself it was because he didn't want her to stop spreading her thighs for him, which she would do in an instant if Angel found out. A little voice laughed raucously in his head at that reasoning.

Spike had just finished drying his hands when Angel entered the men's room. He straightened up to his full height and pasted a cocky grin on his face. "Angel, long time, no see."

"Spike," Angel said through clenched teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new towel boy," Spike answered sarcastically. "What do you think I'm doing here? I'm catching the show."

Angel narrowed his eyes at the blond. "Does it look like I just got turned to you?"

Spike rolled his eyes and headed past his Sire towards the door. Angel grabbed his shoulder and Spike glared at the dark-haired vampire. "What are you going to do? Stake me right here?"

Spike shrugged Angel off and strode out of the restroom. He knew the older man was following right behind him and he sighed. It looked as though shagging his Slayer was out of the program.

"Spike, there you are," Buffy said, coming towards Spike from the right, his duster draped around her small body. "Willow told me in the bathroom that you were heading out for a cigarette and I realized that I had them."

"Buffy."

Buffy froze, her eyes growing wide when she heard the familiar voice. She turned her head slowly and saw the dark-haired vampire that had once been the center of her thoughts and dreams. "Angel?"

Spike saw Buffy pale, her eyes darting to him before returning to his Sire. "Um, I...uh..."

"It's no big deal, Slayer," Spike said abruptly, coming to her rescue. The terrified look she gave him made him both angry and hurt at the same time. Didn't she trust him?

"No big deal?" Angel said.

Spike turned to his Sire and shook his head. "Willow went and screwed up another one of her soddin' spells a short while back, making me and the Slayer think we were engaged." He gestured to Buffy. "The little chit thought you'd get all buggered if you ever found out about it."

"Angel, I suggest that we take our seats again...oh, hello Buffy," Wesley said, joining the small group.

"Wesley, hi," Buffy said in a thickly strained voice. "What a surprise to see you here."

"Yes, well, Cordelia threatened me with something I'd rather not repeat if I did not attend," Wesley said, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

Angel chuckled, which caused Buffy and Spike to swerve their gazes to the vampire in shock. He gave them both a half-smirk. "What she was going to do to Wesley was nothing compared to what she promised to do to me."

"I don't know about you, Angel, but I envy Dennis," Wesley said. The lights flickered twice and the former Watcher straightened his tie. "I think that is our cue. Buffy, it was lovely to see you again."

"You, too," Buffy said.

"I'd better go," Angel said, his voice softening as he looked at Buffy. "I hope you're doing okay?"

"I'm fine," Buffy said. "Everybody's fine...and Spike makes a good neutered house pet."

"Sod off," Spike growled at her.

Angel nodded. "Well, maybe I'll see you after the show."

"Maybe," Buffy said. She gave the dark-haired vampire a strained smile before he walked back towards the auditorium. The second Angel was completely gone from her sight, she turned to Spike and threw her arms around him.

Spike blinked in shock, his arms automatically coming around her to hold her close. All of his plans to chew her out for not trusting him vanished abruptly as she spoke.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I know how much you probably wanted to rub Angel's nose in our...whatever it is we're doing, but you didn't. Thank you for not making him hurt."

Buffy pulled back only to kiss him soundly on the lips. She looked into his blue eyes and smiled sincerely. "Thank you, Spike. It means more to me than you can imagine."

Spike tried to shrug off the strangely proud feeling that filled him. "Yeah, well, I'm horny and I figured I'd never get laid if I opened my gob to tell peaches that we're shagmates."

"Well, when we get home, I'll fix that rather," she paused as she rubbed her hips forward against him, "large problem for you. Sound good?"

Spike dropped his hands down to her duster-covered ass, pulled her tight against him, and suggested in a velvety voice, "We could always skip the next act..."