However, he was not planning on moving, either. As he slowly drifted off to sleep, still sitting up, he wondered if he could somehow have the crypt wired for cable....

**********

He knew this place. He glanced around, confirming his suspicions even before his eyes lit on the neon sign above the door, "Spike's Joint". He nodded and smirked in anticipation as he pushed his way to the table he knew would be waiting for him, right up front by the stage. On his way to the table, he met with a dark, broody vampire with tall hair who got the taste of Doc Marten before being thrown unceremoniously across the room. He also encountered a large, life-sized cardboard cutout of a cornfed mama's boy from Iowa, which didn't even get a second glance as he flicked it with middle finger and thumb so that it fell flat to the floor. Passing the last table before his own, he focused on the couple sitting there. It was the whelp and his girlfriend; the whelp was getting a haircut from one clearly brassed off ex-vengeance demon as he struggled to pull away and focus his eager attention on the stage. Chuckling, Spike passed their table without comment.

Having cleared the gauntlet, Spike sat at his table just as the lights fell, leaving the entire room in total blackness for a few seconds. When the spotlight came on, it was illuminating a small, lithe female with her back to the audience, which now consisted only of Spike himself. The figure, although still only visible from the back, was clearly dressed in some kind of naughty cowgirl's outfit. Blonde hair spilled out from underneath a red cowboy hat, cascading down the back of a red vest, almost meeting the buckle on the holster that loosely encircled her tiny waist. The girl wore black leather chaps with only a g-string underneath, and Spike's eyes followed the delicious curve of buttock down the long length of thigh and calf that was visible above the red cowboy boots. As he unconsciously licked his lips, he knew with certainty who was providing his evening's entertainment. Although he'd never seen that luscious ass unclad before, there was no mistaking it, and he leaned forward in his seat then shifted uncomfortably. His painful erection was already almost rock hard, and the show hadn't even really started yet.

A slow, steady beat began pulsating through the speakers set to the sides of the stage, and the spotlight pulled back to bathe the whole stage in an eerie, red glow. A woman that sounded very much like that Shirley Manson bird from the group 'Garbage' began singing an old tune in an entirely new way.

"Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above,

Don't fence me in."

Although the tempo was much slower and the voice much deeper and sensual, the song was unmistakable. Spike's eyebrow cocked momentarily before he refocused his attention to the figure on stage. The girl had begun to turn around, slowly undulating all the while, as soon as the lyrics had started. She fixed her gaze on Spike, and a slow, seductive smile formed on her pouty lips. Still undulating to the music, she moved forward closer to the edge of the stage. She began to langorously peel away the vest, revealing nothing more than perfect, small breasts and a golden expanse of unmarred bronze flesh. Spike almost choked, but she continued without pause, untying the chaps from the back while grinding her hips in an erotically charged rhythm. Pulling the leather away, she was now only clad in hat, boots, g-string and holster. She slowly sank to her knees and began to dip her pelvis towards the floor to the lyrics:

"Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle

Underneath the western skies."

She fell forward, catching herself on outstretched palms even while still moving her hips, then raised her head and threw Spike a small, knowing smile.

"On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder

Till I see the mountains rise."

She stared pointedly at his lap where the obvious bulge was clearly visible, even from her vantage point, and licked her lips hungrily. He moaned deeply and she jerked her head up to meet his gaze again, then fluidly drew herself back up to a standing position. Placing her feet at shoulder's width, she rest her hands on the outside of her thighs, then slowly trailed them up her sides, cupping her breasts and flicking her dusky nipples to pebble hardness.

"Wildcat Kelley, back again in town,

was standin by his sweethearts side,

And when his sweetheart said "come on let's settle down,

Wildcat raised his head and cried"

Throwing her head back and shaking out the mane of glorious gold as if about to let loose a cry herself, the girl instead closed her eyes and slid her hands back down to the holsters on each hip. Spike noticed with a start each holster held a long, wooden stake. She slid one of the stakes out and grasped it with both hands, placing the thumb of one hand gingerly on the pointed tip while fondling the length of the stake with the other. Spike swallowed with difficulty, looking up to meet her heavy-lidded gaze with his own. After a moment of accompanying the chorus with her handling of the stake, she brought the tip up to the apple of her cheek. Eyes fluttering shut again, she began to trail the stake down her cheek and neck, pausing at the hollow between neck and shoulder, teasing the smooth skin above the jugular. Spike's eyes nearly bulged and his hips jerked forward of their own volition. The stake's slow, sensous journey then continued, down through the shallow valley between her breasts, over her navel, finally coming to rest poised above one of the straps of the g-string. Spike nodded, mentally commanding her, begging her, to sever the strap with a flick of her wrist. Instead, she jumped from the edge of the stage to the floor and sashayed over to stand directly in front of him. After setting the stake down on the table, she grabbed the seat of Spike's chair and pulled so that he was away from the table and facing her. His eyes sparkled with lust and anticipation as he waited for her next move. In time to the next string of lyrics,

"Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle"

she threw one leg over his lap and sank into it, thrusting forward as she gripped the back of the chair behind his shoulders. He growled as he felt the heat from her crotch burning through the worn denim of his jeans, and his fully-erect cock strained against his zipper, demanding release.

"I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences"

She threw her head back as if to howl,

"gaze at the moon till I lose my senses"

then leaned in and nuzzled Spike's neck, lightly nipping the soft, cool skin with blunt teeth before pulling back.

"I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences"

As the girl's warm, sweet breath filled his senses the singer crooned the last line in a sensual, soft command-

"Don't..... fence me in."

Her face was almost touching Spike's as the music faded away, and he fixed his gaze on hers, eyes burning with lust and unrepentant need. He closed the space between them, capturing her full lips with his own and kissing her, demanding and fierce. She met his onslaught eagerly, running her tongue along his teeth until they allowed her entrance. Deepening the kiss, she ground her hips into his erection once again, before pulling away and standing up. He growled at the loss of contact until he felt her tiny fingers deftly unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping his fly, freeing his straining member. Taking the cool shaft of pale ivory into her small hands, she brushed the tip lightly before pulling aside her g-string. He shuddered, very close to losing control, and then threw his head back and howled as she brought her hips back down, impaling herself on his cock. He slid easily into her tight, hot, deliciously moist core---stretching her, filling her-- and he marveled at how wet she was...all for him, he thought dimly before all thoughts fled entirely. He was overcome by the heat that enveloped him, surrounded him and licked at his skin with every caress. She set a rhythm that was eagerly matched by his own thrusts, and soon began moaning with pleasure. As Spike felt his own orgasm nearing, she clenched her inner muscles in uncontrolled ecstacy and threw her head back to cry joyfully, "Spike!"

***************

As Spike slowly came back to consciousness, he noticed a few things almost simultaneously.

One, the tv was loudly broadcasting white noise. Obviously, that soddin' musical had ended and the station had signed off for the wee hours of the morning.

Two, he was still sitting in his chair, mostly upright, and the hand that had been clutching his empty whiskey bottle was now resting on the crotch of his jeans.

Three, said crotch was uncomfortably damp and...sticky? Bloody hell. He'd been dreaming again, obviously.

Four, and most importantly, he was not alone.

Trying to nonchalantly leave his hand on his crotch without making it look too obvious, he murmured "Who's there?" although he already had a good idea who his visitor was.

"Spike?"

His Slayer. He focused on the disembodied voice even as Buffy stepped forward into the feeble light cast by the snow on the tv screen.

"Spike?" Her tone of voice was more annoyed now, and Spike wondered idly how long she'd been calling his name, trying to wake him.

"Buffy? What are you doing here?" He leaned forward, moving his hand as he realized there was no way she could see the evidence of his dream in this light.

"I just...I wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, had enough blood and all, to finish recuperating from Glory's little torture session last week. I just finished slaying for the night...er morning, thought I'd drop it by."

He noticed that she was clutching a paper bag, which she held out to him tentatively until he reached forward with a small groan and took it. He looked back up at her face, and noticed even in the dim light that there were dark circles under her eyes. Eyes skipping down her body, he noticed she hadn't even bothered with the usual skimpy slaying attire, but had opted for her baggy, formless denim overalls over a black tank top. He remembered what she'd been wearing--or not wearing-- in his dream and looked away guiltily. He passed a hand over his still-bruised face, sighing deeply.

"Thanks, luv."

She nodded tiredly and left the crypt, her small shoulders sagging under the burden of her calling. Spike smiled sadly as he realized that, for better or worse, he was now somebody she felt responsible for.

"Don't...fence me in."