Buffy walked slowly down main street, her mind a blur. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. Somehow, deep in her bones, she could feel it. Yet it remained just beyond her grasp.

Absentmindedly, she picked up a Jonathan Action Figure one of the two kids on the street had dropped and handed it back to him with a small smile. She watched the two boys play for a while, then shook her head. After all, what could possibly be wrong with two innocent children playing?

No, she knew what was wrong. Or more accurately who. Or, even more accurately, what was wrong about who being wrong about what. Buffy began to feel dizzy at all the interrogative pronouns floating around in her head.

Keep to straight, simple facts, she encouraged herself. Jonathan saw the symbol on that monster. He said it was harmless. Said monster then attacked Tara. Ergo, said monster is not harmless.

She began to feel confused again when she arrived at the same conclusion as she had before.

Jonathan is wrong, she tried out the idea in her head. Jonathan is never wrong. That one was easy, a plain fact of the universe. Jonathan is wrong, but Jonathan is never wrong… Therefore, there must be something wrong with the universe.

“Argh!” Buffy exclaimed aloud, clutching at her hair. This was not doing her any good. Maybe a movie would help. The Sun Cinema was playing ‘Being Jonathan Levenson’. And she had only seen that movie five times before…

Focus on problem. Problem bad. Problem must be fixed… Hey, maybe Jonathan can help… Buffy winced inwardly. No, Jonathan part of problem! Her brain still had difficulty getting around that concept. Bad mind! Bad!

She paused for a second. Why exactly did her brain have such difficulty getting around that concept? I mean, no one was perfect, right? That meant that Jonathan obviously wasn’t perfect as well. But he is perfect, her treacherous mind insisted.

Buffy shook the thought out of her head. It felt strange, alien, like something or someone was sticking those thoughts in her head. It felt almost like…

Buffy’s eyes widened. She felt the exact same sensation before. All too recently, unfortunately…

I love Spike. I want to marry Spike. I’m so happy we’re engaged…

That particular train of false thoughts had been running through her head almost nonstop that one time Willow had cast her Thy Will Be Done spell.

So what I’m feeling feels like a spell… Buffy’s thoughts felt unnecessarily bogged down, as if they were trying to move through thick molasses. So that means that…maybe I’m feeling a spell right now. And last time the strangely out-of-place thoughts defined the spell…so these ones probably do, too. Which means… Her mind made its own little dramatic pause here. Which means that the spell’s making me believe that Jonathan’s perfect!

She smiled at the fact that she’d finally come to a revelation, and then her expression fell when she realized exactly what that revelation meant.

“Jonathan’s not perfect,” she tried the words out in her mouth. They sounded strange and discordant. “Jonathan’s not perfect,” she repeated. It felt a little better this time. “Jonathan’s not perfect.” She looked around her, noticing the ‘Jonathan’ posters all around and – for the first time – thinking how odd it was that he was absolutely everywhere. “Jonathan’s not perfect,” she said once more with finality. “So why does everyone think he is?”

***

This was not going well. Anya had that bored, incredulous look on her face again. And Giles, Xander, Willow, and Riley will quickly developing their own versions of The Look.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t make sense,” Buffy persisted, feeling more than a little bit flustered. “He starred in ‘The Matrix’ but he never left town? And how exactly did he graduate from med school? He’s only eighteen years old!”

“Effective time management?” Xander quipped good-naturedly.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Giles sighed and cleaned his glasses. “I just don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

Anya yawned. “Yeah. When is Jonathan gonna get here and start the meeting?”

“This is the meeting,” Buffy exclaimed, frustrated.

“This is the meeting?” Willow repeated in disbelief.

Riley flashed her a sweet, loving smile. “Buffy has something to say. Let’s hear what it is.” He gave her hand a little condescending pat. “Go ahead.”

Buffy couldn’t decide whether to be irritated by his patronizing tone or grateful that at least one person was willing to let her babble on. “Well,” she looked around at the sea of confused faces, “I wanted to kind of…see if anyone else thinks Jonathan’s, kind of, too perfect.” She practically blurted out the last two words, still almost too embarrassed to say them aloud.

Looks of horror all around. Those were never good.

“No, he’s not!” Xander blurted out. “He’s just perfect enough. He crushed the bones of the Master, he blew up a big snake made out of Mayor, and he coached the U.S. Women’s Soccer Team to a stunning World Cup victory. We saw him doing those things!” He looked to Anya for reassurance, and she gave his hand a little squeeze.

“But see, I’m not sure we can trust our memories,” she persisted to her rapidly vanishing audience. “Anya, tell them about the alternate universes!” she pleaded.

The ex-demon shrugged. “Oh. Okay, well, say you really liked shrimp a lot,” she began to ramble. “Or, we could say that you didn’t like shrimp at all. ‘Blah, I wish there weren’t any shrimp,’ you say to yourself—”

“No, no,” Buffy clutched at her head in exasperation. “She’s not saying it right. I just think he did something so he’s manipulating the world, and we’re all, you know, like pawns.”

“Or prawns,” Anya added, amusing herself.

“Stop with the shrimp!” Buffy screamed in frustration. “I’m trying to do something serious here!”

“Yes, of course,” Giles stepped in hurriedly, “I just…I think you’re a little out of your depth.”

“But, I’m not—” Buffy protested weakly.

“It sounds like nonsense,” Riley commented off-handedly.

Buffy flashed him a murderous look.

“But if it’s really bothering you, I suppose we could – I don’t know – do some research or something.” He gave her a goofy, saccharine smile. “If it’ll make you feel better.” He gave her hand another squeeze.

Buffy debated kicking his teeth in then and there.

“Is this a private conversation,” a voice suddenly broke the awkward tension in the room, “or can Mister July sit in?”

“Oh, thank god, it’s Jonathan!” Anya breathed a sigh of relief. “Now the insanity can go away.”

“Insanity?” Jonathan gave Buffy a curious look.

She wilted under that authoritative and commanding presence.

“I-I just…” she began, stuttering.

“The Buffster’s just got this goofy idea in her head that there’s something off about this world,” Riley said, his arm slipping around her shoulders. “It’s silly, but she thinks you were wrong about that monster.”

To say Buffy’s look was venomous would be an understatement.

“Wrong?” Jonathan asked Buffy intently.

“I-It hurt Tara,” Buffy stuttered, embarrassed. “You said it was harmless, and then it attacked Tara.”

Jonathan gave her a reassuring smile. “I can’t predict every monster’s exact moves,” he pointed out. “Sometimes unpredictable things happen.”

“So you still stay…”

“It’s generally pretty harmless,” Jonathan reaffirmed his earlier sentiments. “This was an aberration.”

“B-But if it’s acting oddly…” Buffy looked around nervously for support and found none. “Shouldn’t we go after it, just in case?” she asked meekly.

“Sure,” Jonathan shrugged. “If it would make you feel better.”

“See?” Riley rested his hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “You were all worked up over nothing.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan agreed. “Let’s go look for it now. C’mon.”

Buffy’s brow furrowed as her world seemingly fell back into place. Jonathan was reasonable, and he really couldn’t be expected the read the minds of every monster than came into town… Maybe she had just been overreacting before.

“OK,” she agreed, following Jonathan out the door…

***

“Big,” Jonathan said. “Long claws and teeth. This symbol on its forehead.” He held up the picture for Willy to look at.

“Haven’t seen it,” the bartender shrugged, cleaning out a mug as he squinted at the paper.

“It’s been attacking people around town,” Buffy nervously added. “We need to find it.”

He sighed. “Look, it hasn’t been in. You can ask the locals, but I doubt they’ve seen anything, either.”

“You’re sure?” Jonathan’s tone was deadly.

Willy held up his hands in front of himself defensively. “Honest this time,” he insisted.

“Let’s go then,” Jonathan said wearily. “It looks like it’s left town.”

“I guess, but…” Buffy trailed off and her brow furrowed.

“Hey, um, Jonathan?” Willy’s voice caused them both to spin back around.

“Yeah?” If Buffy didn’t know better, she would have sworn there was a hint of nervousness in Jonathan’s tone.

“Could I, uh…” Willy stuttered, “have your autograph?” he finally spit out sheepishly. “It’s for my niece, you see. She’s a real big fan of yours, and—”

“Here,” Jonathan pulled one of his trusty 8x10 glossies for his pocket and quickly signed it.

“Thanks, man,” Willy said with obvious delight. “I owe you one.”

“I think we should call it a night,” Jonathan commented as they exited the bar.

“Isn’t there anywhere else it could have gone?” Buffy found herself asking, despite her earlier conviction that she wasn’t going to embarrass herself in front of him anymore. “I mean, we’ve only asked here.”

“All right,” he nodded affably enough, “we can ask around a bit more if you feel it’s necessary.”

Her face turned bright red. “Not that I know what’s necessary,” she hastily backtracked. “In fact, you know what: you’re right. It’s probably gone. We should just go home and—”

“No,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s keep searching just a bit longer. Maybe it just doesn’t like the smell in Willy’s.”

Buffy couldn’t help but smile. What on earth had she possibly been thinking, questioning Jonathan’s trustworthiness? He was obviously doing everything in his power to stop the beast. Entirely reassured, she followed him downtown…

***

Buffy’s feet hurt by the time they made their final stop in Sunnydale Cemetery. It was nearly midnight by now, and she was cold and tired. They were just approaching Spike’s crypt when the bleached vamp suddenly materialized out of the shadows to cut them off.

“Oh, look,” he drawled in that confident tone that set every one of her nerves on edge, “Jonathan. Taking the little sidekick out for a walk, are we?”

He looked her up and down seductively, and to her horror she found herself blushing under his appraisal.

“Shut up, Spike,” she spit out, mentally slapping herself repeatedly for not being able to come up with any better comeback.

“Ooh,” Spike held his hands up in mock fear, “Semi-harsh language from Betty. You’re feisty when the big guy’s standing beside you.”

He was in her personal space now, their faces less than a foot apart. For some reason his presence made her shiver involuntarily. He raised one hand to her face, and she felt her heart begin to pound fiercely in her chest…and not in fear, either.

Ever so slowly, he ran one finger down the side of her face, tracing the curve of her cheek down to her throat in a forbidden caress. She felt time slow to a crawl while she stared deep into those mesmerizing cerulean eyes and her body subconsciously leaned into his touch.

She barely managed to suppress a gasp when he stroked the tender flesh over her jugular oh so gently. He must have felt the reaction in her, though, because his pupils dilated for a second, ebony overtaking lapis before fading away again.

“Someday, Sweet Slayer,” he whispered in a husky voice, “I’d love to take you on. See you face the evil alone for once…” His brow furrowed for a second as if he were trying to recall some long forgotten memory. He never had a chance to find it, though.

Buffy was shocked back into reality when Jonathan slapped Spike’s hand away from her roughly. She had completely forgotten for a minute there that they weren’t alone; the world had just seemed to close in around the two of them…

She came out of her daze to discover that Jonathan now had Spike pressed up against the crypt wall. The peroxide vampire was attempting to twist from his captor’s grasp, but he was helpless against Jonathan’s strength.

“That’s enough creepy small talk,” Jonathan growled. “We’re looking for a monster.”

“Why would I know about that?” Spike protested, still squirming uselessly in Jonathan’s grasp.

“Every demon in this town is gunning for you right now,” Jonathan explained patiently. “So I figure you’re probably keeping pretty good track of them. Big arms. Mark on its head. Have you seen it?” he demanded once more.

“No,” Spike shrugged and flashed Buffy a wry grin. “But then again, I’m probably lying,” he added, his tongue curling up beneath his teeth.

Jonathan gave him one final shove before letting him go. “We’re not getting anything out of him,” he commented wearily. “Let’s go.”

Buffy looked back and forth between her companion and the vampire who was rubbing his head in the background and slowly nodded her head.

Jonathan stomped out of the cemetery, and Buffy moved to follow.

“Oh, Biddy,” that irritating British accent stopped her in her tracks.

She turned to face him, eyes blazing.

“Nice…talkin’ to you,” he said sensuously, his hand sliding down the front of his shirt before hooking into his belt. The motion practically forced her eyes to continue downwards, and she cursed herself when she heard his chuckle. “Hurry up now,” he teased. “Wouldn’t want to get caught out at night all by your lonesome, now would you?”

Spinning around to hide the crimson flush in her cheeks, she dashed after Jonathan, the sound of the laughter behind her grating in her ears all the way…

***

“So, it’s a false alarm. Surprise, surprise,” Anya said, rolling her eyes.

“It seems clear that the monster’s left town,” Jonathan agreed.

“See?” Riley said, smiling at Buffy. “You were all worked up over nothing.”

“Uh, yeah…heh-heh,” she tried desperately to sound friendly and happy that his arm was around her waist once more.

“Well, then,” Giles said, picking up the tea tray and carrying it over to the kitchen area, “are we done for the night?”

Jonathan nodded. “I think so. Buffy and I managed to take out a few fledglings while we were asking around, so patrol’s taken care of as well.”

“Very cool,” Riley smiled. He turned to Buffy. “I know it’s late, but it’s not that late. Want to come hang out at my place?” he asked enthusiastically.

A feeling of deep dread settled through her bones. “Sorry,” she said, smiling sweetly and then yawning for emphasis. “All that walking really tired me out. I just want to go home and sleep. Maybe another time?”

“Sure,” he said, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Will, you coming?” she asked the redheaded Witch.

“Maybe later,” Willow smiled sheepishly. “I kinda want to go see how Tara’s doing first.”

“All right then. I’ll see you later. Bye, guys!” She waved quickly and then practically fled from Giles’ apartment.

She didn’t quite know why she ran all the way back to her dorm. Something about the last meeting had just felt…stifling, as if she were being forced into a mold that didn’t fit. Like, say, the mold of Riley’s arms, a nasty part of her mind provided. She winced inwardly at the thought. Jonathan had told her to give Riley a second chance, so she should… Wait a minute! her mind cut in. Jonathan problem, remember? Can’t necessarily trust everything he says.

But he was right all along, that oddly out of place part of her mind stepped in. It was just a fluke. You can trust Jonathan because he’s a good guy, and if he says you belong with Riley, then it must be so.

Buffy shook her head in frustration and slowed to a halt when she reached the entranceway to Stevenson Hall.

“Out for a jog,” she explained, giggling nervously to the two students that gave her odd looks when she approached.

She quickly made her way upstairs without any further human contact and plopped down on her bed, exhausted. Need sleep, her mind provided. When I wake up, everything will be normal again.

She decided to do just that before making a brief stop in the bathroom. As she combed her hair, she slowly shook all the worries from her head. The reason Jonathan was everywhere was because he was a hero and a pop star, not to mention a genius. When looked at in that light, it made perfect sense that her mind had idolized him and thus had difficulty dealing with the fact that he’d made one little mistake.

Much relieved, Buffy turned to go back to her room…and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the Jonathan swimsuit calendar that one of the girls on their floor had tacked up on the wall. She felt her throat constricting uncomfortably as she stared at the mark on Jonathan’s bare shoulder.

That was it.

The mark of the beast.

And once again her world came crashing down around her.

***

Spike looked up from the television, startled, when the door to his crypt was suddenly and violently kicked in.

“Look, Johnny,” he turned to the door, irritated, “I told you already that…” He trailed off abruptly when he saw who was there. “Blinky?” he asked in disbelief.

“You hate Jonathan, right, Spike?” Buffy demanded, shutting the door behind her.

He fumbled to turn off the re-run of Jonathan’s guest spot on ‘Passions’. “Sure, yeah,” he tried to sound composed.

“Good,” she frowned slightly at his hesitation but plunged ahead. “You want to get him, right? Get back at him for always foiling your plans?”

“Old news, Slayer,” Spike said disinterestedly, lighting up a cigarette.

She gave him a sly smile. “Then today’s your lucky day, Spikey,” she informed him.

He gave her an incredulous lilt of the eyebrow.

“I need your help to defeat the new Big Bad,” she explained. “And I’m pretty sure it’s Jonathan…”

Chapter Two - Strange Bedfellows

Spike laughed.

Buffy didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it had been anything but that.

He was almost in hysterics by now and fell out of his seat onto the floor. “Honestly,” he shook his head, fighting back tears of mirth, “this has to be the lamest scheme you guys ‘ave ever come up with!” He frowned for a minute, baffled as to why that line sounded so familiar.

Buffy did as well, and then she shook her head. “This isn’t a trick,” she insisted. “Jonathan’s evil!”

“Yeah…right,” he chuckled slightly to himself. “Go on then, Birdie,” he said, still amused. “Explain to me why Jonathan’s…” snort, “…evil.”

“Remember that monster we were looking for earlier?” Buffy demanded, more irritated than flustered by Spike’s reaction. “W-Well, it has the same symbol on its forehead that Jonathan has on his shoulder. And Jonathan’s been covering for it. A-And he’s everywhere! It’s like the universe centers around him or something. It’s weird! It’s not natural!”

Spike rolled his eyes in her direction. “Someone’s jealous,” he sing-songed.

“I’m not jealous!” she insisted. “Look, I’m going to tell you this from the beginning, and you’re going to believe me.”

“What? ‘Cause you said so?” he taunted her. “Please. ‘ve got better things to do with my time.”

“You’re just waiting for the scene where Jonathan’s shirtless,” she accused when he moved to turn the TV back on.

That did the trick. His hand whipped back as if it had been stung.

“Right then,” Spike let out an annoyed sigh and turned to look at her. “You’re not goin’ away anytime soon, are you?”

“Just listen,” Buffy persisted.

“Go ahead,” he said wearily. “Not like I can do anything else while you’re yammerin’ away,” he muttered under his breath.

Buffy ignored his comment. “A few days ago the monster attacked one of Jonathan’s groupies. It was on the front lawn of his mansion. The girl barely escaped with her life.”

“Kudos to the monster,” Spike interrupted impatiently. “Always said someone needed to thin the herd around that fellow. Is this going somewhere?”

“The monster had a mark on its forehead,” Buffy continued to plod through her story. “This symbol,” she held up the piece of paper in her pocket. “When this girl drew the symbol for Jonathan, he reacted. He recognized it.”

“The man is an expert in over twelve fields of demon study,” Spike raised an eyebrow at her.

“He recognized it, but he did nothing. He said it wasn’t dangerous and it had probably left town anyway,” she added.

“Well, then it left town,” Spike shrugged and reached over to the television. “Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” she quickly put herself between him and the TV. He let out an annoyed little snarl, but couldn’t really do anything to move her. “The monster attacked again the next night. It hit a friend of Willow’s.”

“Prob’ly jus’ hungry ‘cause the chit last night got away,” he commented, off-hand.

“Maybe,” Buffy nodded slowly. “Anyway, Tara got away, too. Same symbol, same everything. It’s a pattern.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And Jonathan still says it nothing,” Buffy said triumphantly.

Spike’s brow furrowed slightly. “Maybe he jus’ knows the demon better’n we do,” he finally suggested. “After all, if he said—”

“And it’s not just that,” a smile crept up on her face as she saw the realization spark in the depths of his eyes. “Jonathan is everywhere. Literally. Can you name any other action hero? How about anyone else who’s won an Oscar in the past three years? Any other hit pop star? Any other author that’s written a best-selling book lately?”

Spike shook his head to each of them in turn.

“He did them all,” Buffy said. “It’s physically impossible. By my calculations, he must be filming at least four movies at a time. All of which he’s starring in. And none of which ever require him to be gone even for a minute. Plus, on top of that he slays, and he teaches, and he—”

“So?” Spike demanded.

“It’s impossible!” Buffy exclaimed. “No one is that big.”

The vampire pulled an old TV Guide from under his chair and tossed it to her. She looked to see Jonathan’s picture on the cover.

“Been on every cover for the past three months,” he commented, taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

“The Mayor even paused during his Ascension to have his picture taken with Jonathan. It’s ridiculous! Absurd!” she continued to pressure him.

“Back in the sixties, there was this huge craze ‘round the Beatles,” Spike began. “They were everywhere. ‘S just that way with Jonathan now.”

“But were they, literally, everywhere?” Buffy demanded. “Did every single person love them? What about the old people? Weren’t they scared that the Beatles were warping their children’s minds?”

“But Jonathan doesn’t do that,” Spike pointed out.

“Argh!” Buffy exclaimed in exasperation. She smashed her fist down against the back of his chair, and the piece of furniture crumbled under her strength.

“’ey!” Spike protested, leaping to his feet. “You know how long it took me to find one that didn’t smell?”

“Oops,” Buffy said nervously.

“ ‘Oops’?” he exclaimed in disbelief, circling around her like the predator he was. “ ‘Oops’?!”

“I didn’t mean to, and—hey! You’re the vampire here. I shouldn’t have to apologize to you,” her own tone abruptly turned angry.

He snorted derisively. “Yeah, like you’d have half a chance in hell, takin’ me on without the Big Boss to help you out.”

“Wanna test that?” she threatened, her fist flying at his nose with lightning speed.

His head rolled to the side just in time to avoid the full force of the blow. She dropped to the ground to kick his feet out from under him. He leapt. His own foot lashed out at her head, heedless of the chip. She slipped to the side just in time.

Kick. Block. Punch. Block. Kick. Flip. Kick. Block. Block. Block. Block. Block.

They both froze as their blows were simultaneously and perfectly deflected for the final time. Slowly, both their eyes widened as they looked at each other.

“We’ve done this before!” they both exclaimed in perfect unison.

“See?” Buffy said, still panting heavily from their fight. “Things like that… They’re just kinda off.”

Spike nodded in disbelief, staring at where he still held her wrist after deflecting her last punch. Abruptly he let go and backed away.

“I’ve been getting that weird feeling a lot,” she explained. “Like the world’s wrong. And whenever I think it, there’s this little voice in my head that tells me to stop. It feels like…” She trailed off, not really wanting to mention their oh-so-embarrassing engagement.

“Red’s spell,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “Can you feel it?” she asked hesitantly.

Slowly he nodded as well, and at that moment the irrational impulse to hug him in victory passed through her head before her common sense nipped it in the bud.

“’S’a spell then?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I was talking to Anya, and she said this thing about alternate universes. How you can change this one little detail in reality, and everything still sorta works out but the whole world’s off…”

“An’ you think the change ‘s in Jonathan,” he said quizzically.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “But I just have this instinct that there’s something wrong about him, something I can’t trust.”

He gave her a wicked smirk. “An’ you trust the Big Bad?” he teased, sauntering over to her slowly. “Not very good instincts there, pet,” he whispered against her ear.

She felt the goosebumps rise on her neck at the feel of his icy breath against her skin. However, when she spoke her voice was calm and firm. “I don’t trust you,” she informed him, “but I do know that you may be the only person who will help me. I have no idea how strong the spell – or whatever – is, but it nearly ripped me apart when I fought against it. I don’t know if anyone else could, except for Jonathan…” she mentally slapped herself. “See? I’m still fighting it. But you…” she said, pulling back so she could look into his eyes. “In this world you’re meant to be Jonathan’s enemy. And that’s what I need in an ally right now.”

He frowned and turned away from her to examine the wreckage of his chair. “What makes you think ‘ll help you?” he finally asked.

“Revenge against Jonathan,” she replied matter-of-factly. “It’s not like you can get it any other way.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed at the reference to the chip, but then he shrugged it off. “You got anything better?” he asked, pulling a bottle of bourbon from behind the sarcophagus and taking a deep swig. “Money? Brandy?”

“What?” Buffy blinked in surprise. “Oh, er…um, yeah. I mean, I think I can get money…only, how much money?” she asked nervously.

“Goin’ up against Jonathan,” he said with a wry smile. “That’s tough. And ‘m completely defenseless should somethin’ happen to you, my unwitting ally… Two thou.”

“Two thousand?!” she exclaimed, outraged. “Hello, poor college student here! Where am I supposed to get two thousand dollars?”

He shrugged. “A resourceful girl like you? Bet you’ve got plenty o’ people to hit up. Hey, why not Jonathan?” he asked sarcastically. “Oh yeah, that’s right; no more Jonathan help for Becky.”

“You won’t help me,” Buffy rolled her eyes heavenward. “You know something’s wrong, and you still won’t do anything to fix it without money. Why am I even surprised?”

“’ey now,” Spike’s voice lowered to a soothing whisper, and in the blink of an eye he was right behind her, “there are always…other ways you could compensate me.” His hands ran lightly down the outsides of her arms, and he pressed himself up against her back.

“You bastard!” she screamed, her fist shooting out with lightning quick speed and catching him on the jaw right as he leapt backwards.

“Not quite that desperate, are we yet?” he said with a cocky grin.

“That’s it, Spike!” she hissed with rage. “You’re dust!” She pulled a stake from her sleeve and advanced on him.

“Oy, Slayer,” he held up his hands hastily. “Is that any way to treat your new ally?”

Buffy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What?” she finally blurted out in complete bafflement.

“I don’ like desperate allies,” he shrugged nonchalantly and tested his jaw. “Quite a nasty left hook, by the way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I. Will. Do. It. Hello?” he waved a hand in front of her face. “You passed my l’il test…for now. I will still be expectin’ whatever money you can spare.” He frowned at the destruction to his crypt. “An’ you owe me a new chair.”

“A h-hundred,” Buffy’s mind was still in a bit of spin at his abrupt change in mood. Why doesn’t he want to sleep with me? one voice whimpered far in the back of her head. She ignored it. The others were all just disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to truly play the virtuous young heroine to his evil seduction.

“Two.”

“One fifty.”

“Plus the chair.”

“Done.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Well then, partner, what do we do first?”

***

Buffy slipped back into bed feeling much relieved. Willow was deeply asleep in the bed across from her, and Buffy had made extra sure to come in as quietly as possible. Luckily, Willow hadn’t stirred even once; Buffy wasn’t quite sure what excuse she could come up with for what she had been doing.

I was out with Riley, her mind prepared for the question in the morning. Except then she finds out from Riley that I wasn’t with him last night…

I was out with another man, she tried just for the fun of it. Not Riley. He was fun and exiting and sexy. And if you like Riley so much, why don’t you date him? So, ha!

That one was fun, but it would never work. The logistics involved with making up an imaginary ‘date’ were just too complicated. Her friends would pounce on her instantly for all sorts of details she couldn’t provide, and then they’d want to meet him…

I was out with Spike. We made deep, passionate love for hours on end. Truly, he is the God of Orgasms!

OK, now she was just getting loopy. And ‘the God of Orgasms’? She must have been hanging around Anya way too much lately. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t think she could get through such an outrageous lie without breaking out into hysterical laughter. Still, if she could pull it off, it might be worth the shock value…

I had to grab the book I’d put on hold at the library before someone else grabbed it. Then I ran into some people I met during orientation.

Ah, the perfect lie! Vague, plausible, and completely unable to be disproved… If not as fun as most of the others.

Buffy lay back into what she hoped would be a relaxing night’s sleep. She needed to have her head clear for their plan tomorrow. It would work; she knew it would. A little twinge of guilt settled deep in her stomach, but she pushed it aside with greater ease this time. For some reason, the more she took charge of this situation, the less the spell-alternate-universe-or-whatever influenced her. That, if nothing else, was reassuring. And she did indeed drift off into relaxing sleep…if not the kind she anticipated…

“Buffy, my little snuggle bunny!” Riley exclaimed with joy, enveloping her in a massive bear hug.

“Mmf! Riley!” she protested against his chest, squirming as best she could. “You’re smothering me!”

He didn’t seem to hear her, but instead kept up with the irritating baby talk. “I wuv you, you know that, my Buffy-wuffy.”

She finally managed to push free of him. “Stop treating me like a child!” she screamed. “I’m not stupid!”

“Of course, you’re not, Buffy,” Willow soothed, coming up behind her. “You’re just not really the take-charge type, you know? Here,” she added brightly, pulling one of the famous extra-large chocolate and macadamia nut cookies from behind her back, “have a cookie, and forget all about it.”

“But I can’t forget about it, Will,” she insisted, pleading with her best friend. “There’s something wrong. I have to fix it, make it right again.”

“Ooh, Jonathan!” Willow exclaimed in delight, obviously missing Buffy’s last statement. She ran over to where a crowd of photographers had surrounded the young star.

“Riley?” Buffy turned to him desperately.

“My hero,” Riley sighed and ran the way Willow had.

“You guys have to listen to me!” Buffy exclaimed, trying to pull them away from the edge of the circle.

“Of course, we’ll listen to you,” Giles suddenly emerged from the crowd surrounding Jonathan. “Just read from here.” He handed her a book.

She flipped it open to the title page and saw that it read ‘Oh, Jonathan!’ “This isn’t the right book,” she protested.

“Sure it is, Buff,” Xander said with a wide grin, his arm around Anya.

“Please, read it to us,” the ex-vengeance demon smiled at her enthusiastically.

“I-I can’t,” Buffy stammered, backing away from the circle of her friends and finding herself backed up against the circle of reporters.

“Just read, sweetie,” Riley said with an encouraging smile, “and we can be together again.” He held his hand out to her.

Buffy turned and ran, shoving her way through the crowd of photographers frantically. For every one she slipped past, it seemed another two took his place. “Just read it,” she heard the familiar voices drift to her as she pushed her way through the endless throng of bodies that surrounded her on all sides.

“I can’t!” she screamed. “I can’t stop! It’s not right!”

And then, with a final burst of speed, she cleared the crowd.

“Hey there, Buffy,” Jonathan casually turned to her, several more cameras taking pictures of him as he did so. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

She looked at him and blinked when she saw two different Jonathans superimposed on top of each other. The one wore the ultra-hip Matrix Playboy clothes with the sunglasses, and the other looked…nerdy? He was dressed almost as if he had been cursed with Xander’s hand-me-downs.

Both Jonathans held a leash, though. At first whatever was at the end of the leash was blocked from her view. She began to circle round to try to see it.

“You don’t need to do this,” Jonathan informed her. “There’s nothing to see here.”

“I think there is,” she replied.

The beast at the end of the leash stepped forward, and she saw the monster she’d heard so often described, familiar symbol on its face and all.

“Why is it here?” Buffy asked in confusion.

“We’re chained together,” Jonathan explained, holding the leash before him.

As Buffy watched, it transformed into a set of handcuffs. She slowly backed away, the sight filling her with an indescribable horror…and backed right into the podium on which Jonathan had been speaking.

Buffy looked down at his notes. “It’s your book,” she commented, lifting up yet another copy of ‘Oh, Jonathan!’

“Read from it,” he requested.

“But there’s another book beneath it,” Buffy protested, picking up the second book in her other hand. It contained the triangular symbol on its cover.

“That’s not the right book!” Giles exclaimed, suddenly beside her.

She quickly backed away from him.

“Buffy, that book is dangerous,” Riley was on the other side of her. He attempted to grab it from her.

She twisted aside and ran right into Xander and Anya.

“This is getting old,” Anya whined. “Xander, make her stop!”

“Give me the book, Buffy,” Xander extended his hand to her.

She turned again, this time to face Willow, a bleeding Tara crying in her arms.

“Put down the book, Buffy,” Willow said sternly.

“But he did this to Tara!” Buffy protested.

Tara stopped crying for a second to look at Buffy as well. “Put down the book,” she said in an eerie, dazed voice.

Buffy spun again, this time to face Jonathan and the monster.

“Give it to me,” he ordered her. “You can have this book instead.” He held up yet another copy of ‘Oh, Jonathan!’

“No!” Buffy screamed, spinning around and around to see that her friends had her surrounded on all sides. The lights of the cameras flashing blinded her, only allowing her glimpses of the circle of people closing in around her, all illuminated by a stark, white glow. She spun and spun until she felt as if she would fall over from the dizziness.

And then she saw it.

One patch of black amid the white crowd. Blindly, she reached out to it and felt another hand grasp hers.

“Lookin’ for me, pet?” Spike drawled with that infuriating smirk on his face, the black of his clothes standing out even against the lights of the cameras.

“I need to get away,” she pleaded. “I have this.” She showed him the book.

“Here,” he said, lifting up his arm and holding his black duster out like a cloak. “You can hide under here.”

Without hesitation she dove into the blackness. For a second, it surrounded her, dark and terrifying. And then she saw Spike, the only white in this new land of dark. He stood with his back to her but slowly turned around as she approached.

“Why are you naked?” she asked curiously, taking the time to give him a good, long look up and down. She felt her mouth go dry.

“How else would you expect me to be under my clothes?” he countered, his own eyes raking hungrily over her body.

She looked down at herself as well, blushing when she realized she wasn’t wearing anything, either. “Why am I naked?!” she demanded angrily, looking back up at him.

“Well now, tha’s only fair, Slayer,” he said with a lascivious grin. “Have to keep things equal after all.”

She nodded.

“Dance?” he extended one hand to her.

She bit her lip. “We’ve never danced before,” she said, concerned. “I won’t know the steps.”

“Haven’t we?” He raised his scarred eyebrow. “C’mon, you know the moves…”

Slowly, she took his hand and soon found herself wrapped firmly in his arms, her breasts pressed flush up against his chest. Her feet moved in perfect time with his, instinctively knowing the steps.

“Mmm,” she murmured contentedly, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “We’ve done this before.”

“’S all  we’ve ever done,” he agreed, his lips barely brushing her ear.

“Spike…” She turned to look at him, eyes wide.

“Buffy,” he whispered, just before his lips met hers.

She closed her eyes and allowed herself to become completely absorbed in his kiss. She savored the soft curves of his lips, the gentle force of his tongue, and the coolness of his breath as it played across her lips…

She pulled back and saw that he was smiling – not smirking, smiling.

“Do you know what they say about dancing?” he asked, his accent sounding strangely more upper class than usual.

“What?” she wondered.

She felt something brush against the back of her knees, and by the time she realized it was the edge of a mattress, he’d already laid her back on it and himself on top of her.

“A vertical representation of horizontal desires,” he whispered before his lips came down upon hers once again.

Needless to say, this was the relaxing part of the dream…

Chapter Three - Holmes and Watson They Ain't

All in all, Buffy was glad that Willow had already gone off to class by the time she woke up. The recent memory of beautiful, pale hands doing the most wondrous things to her would undoubtedly have ruined her concentration…just like they had for the entire afternoon. And she was quite thoroughly sick of it. This spell is warping my mind, her mind insisted repeatedly. It’s making me want…that. She shivered; whether from revulsion or something else, she chose not to think about.

However, she couldn’t ignore the fact that what she had had last night was a Slayer dream. Thankfully, the part she was trying to avoid thinking about had occurred entirely after the prophetic part had ended. For that she was eternally grateful.

But, as usual, her dream had made very little sense. What she desperately wanted to do right then was to go tell it to Jonathan so that he could explain it to her. Giving up the ally with the psychology degree and the specialty in dream analysis was a definite minus of her current situation. Hell, right now she’d even go to Giles to see if he could make heads or tails of it. But all those options were out.

Stick to the plan, she encouraged herself. Jonathan and the monster were linked in dream. Just keep worrying about the monster, and maybe everything else will just work itself out…yeah, right.

She started when the bell rang and guiltily walked out of the class she hadn’t been paying attention to. Fortunately, it was the last one of the day. All she had to do now was drop off her English Lit. assignment, stop back by the dorm to change into something stealthy, and sneak out to meet Spike.

Why was it that the simplest plans always went awry?

“Buffy!”

Buffy halted dead in her tracks. Please don’t be Riley! she pleaded inwardly. Please don’t be Riley, please don’t be Riley…

“Hey, Buffy,” Riley panted, slightly out of breath, as he slowed to walk beside her. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Just dropping off my paper in Professor Cavitch’s box,” she smiled sweetly and continued to walk on at a brisk pace. Thank you very much, universe, she grumbled internally. I can’t even ask for one little thing…

“Professor Cavitch’s box is in there,” Riley pointed to the building she’d just left.

“Right,” she nodded, increasing her pace, “and I just dropped off my paper in there.”

“So whatcha doin’ now?” he inquired.

Buffy cringed inwardly. “Just going home to drop off my books and change,” she began.

“Great!” he said enthusiastically. “We can do something tonight then.”

She slowed to halt and fumbled for the best excuse she could think of. “Sorry,” she finally said, falsely apologetic, “but I have to patrol tonight, which means I have to get all my homework done first…”

“No, you don’t,” he said with a little grin. “After you left last night, we decided that you probably needed a little break. So Jonathan agreed to do your patrol tonight!”

“What?” Buffy said, dumbfounded.

“Surprise!” Riley said cheerfully.

“B-But I really should…” she began weakly.

“You need to relax,” Riley said, resting his hands on her shoulders and beginning to give them a little massage. “Take the night off for once, and we can do something fun.”

Wrong hands to relax to… Buffy let out a long sigh. “Homework…” she made one last protest.

“Homework can wait,” he informed her. “I was thinking that maybe we could have some time alone, talk things over… My dad always told me that the best place for a long conversation with a lady’s on a long, moonlit drive in the countryside.”

“That’s…nice,” Buffy forced the smile onto her face, “but I really feel like—”

“You want to go Bronzing instead, that’s cool,” he hastily amended. “I told Xander we’d meet him and Anya there later, anyway.”

“You told them already?” she asked in disbelief.

Riley gave her a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. I figured since Jonathan got us back together…”

“It’s all right,” Buffy sighed wearily. “I just have to go change first.”

“Great!” he said with a broad grin.

Buffy debated escaping out the window while Riley waited out the hallway “like a gentleman” while she changed. Unfortunately, sooner or later even he would realize that she wasn’t coming out, and then would come the searching parties, and the catching of her in probably the most awkward situation imaginable, and the explanations, and the disbelief, and the mental institutions, and the electroshock treatment…and she was probably exaggerating now, but still her escape plan had been foiled.

No, she would have to escape later. This was a better plan. She would go with Riley to the Bronze, hang out for a little while, and then plead a headache or something. Actually, this was a serious situation. It was time to pull the Big Gun out the excuse bag. In the mirror she prepared her ‘I’ve got feminine problems’ look for use on Riley later – the only sure fire way to send every male in a ten minute radius running away in horror.

Switching into a black blouse and set of pants that looked just dressy enough not to arouse suspicion, she stepped out to meet Riley, her smile now more genuine that she wasn’t condemned for the entire night…

***

Buffy yawned. Whatever had possessed to date a guy that thought stories about farm equipment were exciting was beyond her.

“Because sometimes there are accidents if the engine’s not tuned right…” Riley went on and on in the background while Xander nodded in rapt fascination.

She figured it was probably one of those guy things, bonding over carburetors and the latest issue of Playboy…

Anya looked no less bored. “Let’s dance!” she abruptly demanded, blessedly cutting off Riley’s speech. Buffy could have kissed her right then. “We can gyrate erotically in front of dozens of strangers and then sneak off to have sex!” she added perkily.

Xander stuttered and apologized ineffectively before rushing off to follow Anya’s suggestion. That left Buffy alone with Riley.

“Wanna dance?” she asked half-heartedly.

“I don’t dance,” he reminded her.

“Oh…yeah.”

“So…” he began.

“So…” she agreed.

“How ‘bout them Lakers?” he finally asked.

Buffy frowned. “Why do they call them ‘Lakers’ anyway? I mean, there aren’t any lakes in LA!”

“Actually, I know this one,” Riley began proudly. “See, they used to play up in—”

“Uh-oh,” Buffy cut him off before he could go into boring-sports-mode. “Drink’s empty,” she explained, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

“Here, let me get you a refill,” he stood up, taking her glass.

God, he’s so predictable…

“I’ll just go join Xander and Anya while you do that,” she smiled at him, then practically fled when he turned his back.

She circled the dance floor as far away from Riley as she could and prepared the first stage of her attack – the ‘somewhat awkward dancing’.

However, before she go join Xander and Anya on the floor, rough arms grabbed her about the waist and mouth, silencing her as they pulled her back into the shadows.

“Stay quiet now, pet,” a deep voice breathed into her ear, setting her entire body ablaze. He removed the hand from her mouth.

“S-Spike?” she gasped in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” She fought the memory of what hands just like the one on her stomach had done to her in her dream and spun around to face him.

The darkness hung around him several shades blacker than usual, as it had a tendency to do around vampires and other creatures of the night.

“Thought we had a date, Bunny,” he taunted her, his tongue flicking out to lick his upper teeth and giving her a brief sneak preview of just how agile it was.

“It’s Buffy,” she seethed. “And, no date! We were just going to—”

“You were gonna take me out for a night on the town,” he teased and flashed her a mock pout. “Din’t think you would stand me up, Slayer. ‘Specially since we were betrothed once…”

“What part of ‘never mention that again’ don’t you understand?” she hissed.

“What?” he sniffed unconvincingly. “Ditch a bloke at the altar an’ then don’t ever call? Didn’t know you were so cruel…”

She put a hand to her forehead. Much more of this and she wouldn’t have to fake the headache excuse. “Knock it off, Spike,” she finally said wearily.

“Right then,” he nodded. “We’ll be off then.” He grabbed her arm again.

She shrugged him off. “I can’t,” she protested. “They can’t see us together or they’ll know—”

“Know what?” he raised a scarred eyebrow at her. “That the obvious conclusion is that the two of us ‘re conspirin’ together to overthrow Jonathan by way of a l’il breakin’ and enterin’?”

“They’ll know that something’s up,” she retorted. “Maybe you should do this part alone…”

“Yeah, right,” he said in a clipped voice. “Not that I don’ trust you not to set me up, luv, but…I don’t trust you not to set me up.”

“Fine,” she hissed. “I’m coming. Just let me get out of here my way.”

“Ten minutes,” he gave her a suspicious look.

“Ten minutes,” she agreed. “I’ll meet you there.”

He vanished into the shadows once again.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. She always found it exceedingly difficult to think when he was near. Time to make my escape. She found Riley at the table and walked over to him with a somewhat uncomfortable sliding step. This was stage two, the ‘ouch, I’ve got really bad cramps’ ruse.

“I got your drink,” he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she gave him a small smile. She promptly sat down, took two sips, and announced that she had to go to the bathroom. Stage three: ‘mysterious bathroom trip.’

She redid her makeup, checked her hair, and hummed a bit as she checked her watch. She had no doubt that Spike would get majorly pissed if she didn’t show up on time, but she needed to stay in here just long enough to convince Riley that she was doing ‘unspeakable feminine things.’

Deciding she’d waited long enough, she strode back over to the table, still limping slightly and with phase four – the ‘I have to go now look’ – firmly in place.

“I’m really sorry, Riley,” she began. “I was having such a nice time.” Not. “But I’m not feeling very well. I think I should call it a night.”

“Are you sure?” he frowned for a second and then recognized The Look. She would have sworn he leapt back several inches. “Right,” he nodded numbly. “You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or, next week.” He flinched slightly. “Or, later.”

“Bye,” Buffy gave him a final smile and tried not to rush from the Bronze at her elation. Works every time, she thought to herself satisfactorily…

***

“I don’t like this,” Buffy whispered.

He rolled his eyes.

“Jonathan’s going to catch us.”

“Look,” Spike said in a perfectly normal speaking voice, “’e’s not here. There’s no one to catch us.”

“But anyone walking by could hear us!” she protested, still whispering.

“If you don’ stop chatterin’ away, they will,” he hissed at her.

“But I feel guilty,” Buffy finally sighed, reluctantly taking the volume Spike handed to her, “and how am I supposed to read this in the dark anyway?” She stared into the pitch black where she guessed Spike was.

“Should’ve thought of that before you came,” he countered, reading through the book before him with perfect ease. “Nope,” he shut it and replaced it on the shelf. “Lemme see yours.”

She handed it back to him without complaint.

“An’ this is no good, either,” he commented. “There’s nothing here.”

“Well, he must keep his demon books somewhere,” Buffy insisted.

Spike nodded, although the effect was lost since she could only see his vague outline in the darkness. “’f he’s tryin’ to keep ‘em hidden,” he began thoughtfully, “then they’re prob’ly in the bedroom.”

“Sounds good,” Buffy agreed. “Let’s go.” She turned around, took a step, and promptly crashed into the end table.

“Bloody hell, woman!” Spike exclaimed, lunging to catch the lamp before it could fall to the floor and break.

“Sorry,” Buffy apologized sheepishly.

“Why don’t we jus’ advertise our presence?” he inquired sarcastically. “Big neon banner: ‘Burglary In Progress’.”

“I said I was sorry,” she hissed. “It’s not my fault we’re bumbling around in the dark because someone refuses to turn on any lights.”

“Again,” he raised one eyebrow at her sardonically, “do you want to get caught?”

“I want to see!” she countered.

“Thought Slayers had night vision,” he scoffed.

“We do,” she insisted. “We have very good night vision…for humans.”

He let out a sigh of exasperation. “Why me?” he asked before grabbing hold of her.

“Eek! Spike!” she squealed in horror when he lifted her up into his arms. “Where are you taking me?!”

“The bedroom,” he informed the squirming load in his arms.

“Pervert!” she screamed and hit him hard in the head.

“Watch it!” he cried out, clutching his nose and dropping her in the process. “That hurt!”

Buffy made an ‘oof’ sound when she hit the floor.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he reluctantly apologized, moving to pick her up again.

She scootched away from him. “Keep your hands off me! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine,” Spike gave her a long-suffering sigh, “you can jus’ bumble ‘round in the dark tryin’ to find the bedroom by your lonesome.” He proceeded to stomp up the stairs.

“Spike?” she asked curiously, feeling around her and discovering he wasn’t there. “Where are you?”

He stopped, fought back the clenching muscle in his jaw, and climbed back down to where she was. “Right here, luv,” he whispered right against her cheek.

She leapt back a foot, arms flailing wildly. “Don’t do that!” she exclaimed, trying to calm her racing pulse.

“Right then,” he said, obviously annoyed. “So what do we do then? I just stand here watchin’ you wander around blind as a bat ‘cause ‘m not s’posed to touch you? We could make a game out of it. How’re you at Marco Polo?”

“You’re not trying anything sneaky and underhanded?” she asked warily.

“’m always tryin’ somethin’ sneaky an’ underhanded,” he teased, “but no hanky panky in th’ bedroom, honest. You’ve really got to get over this notion that ‘m about to ravish you.”

And why aren’t you? her mind began that oh-so-bad pouting again. Don’t you want me? Don’t you remember that spell just as much as I do and spend every waking hour wishing that we had had time at least once to—

“Slayer? Hello?” The gentle slap to the face pulled her out of the happy-but-forbidden place her mind was in. “Wake up, Slayer!”

“Stop that,” she pushed his hand aside.

“So now what?” he demanded.

“Fine,” she sighed, “you can carry me…”

She really tried not to enjoy the feel of those strong arms holding her once more. Really she did. And the soft, short hairs at the back of his neck where she had wrapped her hands to keep from falling again…

“Here we are,” he set her down unceremoniously. “Don’t move. Don’t knock anythin’ over.”

“I’m not a child,” she sulked.

“Sure, you’re not,” he rolled his eyes, turning to the bookshelf. His brow furrowed. “There’s nothin’ here either…” he began.

In the hallway, a light turned on.

Spike blinked and shifted out of game face at the sudden light.

Slowly, soft footsteps echoed down the hallway, headed straight for the bedroom…

In unison, the two of them dove for the closet, Spike closing the door behind them. The bedroom light turned on just instants after he did so. Buffy gave Spike an irritated look for not detecting that anyone was in the mansion. He shrugged.

“I don’t see it in here,” one of the twins called from beside the bed.

“Check the closet,” the other called from the hall. “It might be in there.”

Buffy and Spike mouthed the word ‘Closet?!’ in perfect time with each other. He quickly nudged her to go to the back of the walk-in closet, and she did so, getting as close to the back wall as she could. He squeezed in as close to her as he could. She held her breath and waited as the closet door opened…

And then something shifted beneath her hand. She fell backwards as the wall slipped out from behind her and grabbed the nearest thing she could find for support. Unfortunately, that happened to be Spike. They both toppled back into the secret compartment that had just opened up just before one of Jonathan’s floozies turned on the closet light.

She blinked when she thought she saw something moving at the very back, but then shook her head. It had seemed as if the wall had just closed up, and she knew that was ridiculous. She continued to search for her sister’s misplaced bathrobe.

Buffy and Spike found themselves in an only slightly less uncomfortable position. The secret room was small, just small enough for the two of them to be squished together face to face. Spike had to lean forward in order not to accidentally trigger the door again…and, well, because he didn’t exactly have any real objections to being pressed up against the Slayer’s hot little body.

She squirmed slightly to get her arms out from in between them and give them more room, and he fought back a moan when she rubbed just the right way over certain regions of his anatomy…

“There,” Buffy whispered in his ear when her arms were finally freed. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders and waited for the danger to pass.

“Are you sure you left it in here?” one of the sisters was demanding.

“Positive,” the other insisted, also standing at the closet door now.

“It was the blue one right?” the first inquired.

“Well, actually it’s more aquamarine than blue…”

Buffy rolled her eyes in irritation at the inane conversation that was keeping them cooped up in here. There were shelves against her back, and they dug into her spine in a particularly unpleasant way. Not to mention the fact that the stake in Spike’s pocket was poking her right between the…

Her eyes widened and she let out an involuntary gasp when he shifted slightly and she felt for certain that that was not a stake in his pants. Who knew he was so big?! And, oh god, he was rubbing right up against her…

She began to squirm again, trying to escape the persistent vampire erection that sent little twinges of ecstasy through her clit…even with several layers of clothes separating them.

Spike at least had the decency to look embarrassed and uncomfortable as well, and he tried to shift away, too.

Their efforts were synchronously timed, however, and rather than alleviate the pressure, they managed to grind harder together, unintentionally dry humping each other.

“Oh god,” Buffy whimpered at the sensations that swept over her, heedless of the fact that they might be heard.

Spike put his hand over her mouth to silence her and then gritted his own teeth to prevent himself from crying aloud.

On a mutual signal, they both froze in place, still touching intimately but not making the matter any worse for the time being.

“Is this it?” one of the sisters asked, still searching for the missing bathrobe.

“No,” the other said in exasperation. “The one with the frilly, lacy thing.”

“Oh, that one! I saw it here just now…”

Buffy and Spike stayed stock still, both praying that the sisters would find the damn robe already and let them get out of this awkward position.

“There!” one finally said.

“That’s it!” the other agreed.

With what seemed like agonizing slowness, they turned out the closet light and shut the door. A few seconds later the bedroom lights were off and that door shut as well.

“Are they…gone?” Buffy panted right in Spike’s ear.

He nodded weakly.

“We have to get out,” she declared.

“Can you…reach the…panel?” His unnecessary breathing was heavy as well, and he was trying as hard as he could to block out the scent of Slayer arousal.

“How do you open it?” she felt against the panel with her hands, her face pressed right up against Spike’s chest to reach around him better.

He moaned aloud when her cheek roughly rubbed one of his nipples through his shirt. “Have to get out!” he exclaimed desperately. He felt as though the heat of her were burning him alive.

Buffy felt the heat, too, and was sweating with exertion by now. “Think I’ve…found something.” She reached for it and accidentally ground herself harder against Spike’s erection as she did so. If anything, it swelled up even larger than before.

She let out a little mewling sigh as her stomach got a good feel of just how large he really was. She mentally made note of where he began and ended to take measure later. Hey, if she was going to have fantasy dreams, she might as well have accurate measurements, right…?

A switch clicked beneath her hand. The panel opened, and Spike practically leapt back out of her arms. The place between her legs feeling a bit uncomfortable, she stepped out to join him.

He flicked on the closet light, and one mutual look was all it took to tell each other that they would never refer to this incident again…

“Let’s see what ol’ Johnny’s keepin’ secret, shall we?” Spike said, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Buffy nodded, and they looked at the contents of the hidden room together.

“Books!” she exclaimed. “Bet they’re the ones we’re looking for!”

“I don’t think so,” his brow furrowed, picking up the nearest one. “ ‘The Nitpicker’s Guide for Classic Trekkers’?” he read the title in disbelief.

“ ‘Star Wars’ novels?” Buffy agreed.

“Feel like we’re in the Nerd Central Library,” Spike commented, shutting the panel again.

“Why would Jonathan hide all this stuff?” Buffy wondered. “And does this mean he doesn’t have any demon books?”

“The answer to the first is ‘e doesn’t want anyone to know ‘e’s a geek,” Spike concluded, “and the answer to the second is no, I don’t think so…”