The amount of alcohol consumed by the vampire the previous night caused him not only to go to bed intoxicated, but wake up much the same way. It had only been a few hours since he nodded off, sending him into technicolor dreams of Buffy on a mountain side singing out ‘Ricola' in a old Dutch dress as she was being screwed by him while he was wearing leiderhosen.

"Looky what I found," Spike said in a astonished stage whispered. "There'sa Schlayer in my bed." He let out a little giggle, then the ringing started again. His blurry eyes darted around the room, looking for the source. Finding the phone on the desk, he crawled to the end of the bed and got up to answer it.

"Ring around the rosies, pockets full of posies," he sang in deep voice as he walked over to the phone. "Ashles, ashles, the dead fall down." He picked up the portable off the charger and the line opened automatically. Putting the phone to his ear, he said, "I wanna large Italian to go, hodda mudstache."

"H-Hello?" Giles said on the other end of the line. "I am trying to reach Buffy, please. Have I got the-the, er, right number?"

"Buffy, the vampire Schlayer?" Spike replied. "Why does she gotta schlay vampires? Why can't she jus' fuck 'em? Fuck 'em over an' over ‘til they eschplode! Poof!"

"Um, to wh-wh-whom am I speaking with?" Giles asked.

"‘S'me," he answered. "Who'syou?"

"Spike, what are you doing?" Buffy asked, having woken up by his loud ‘poof.' She didn't even bother to blush or hide her gaze as her eyes traveled down over his back, over his still bare ass and down the muscular legs. Then, he turned and she got yet another eyeful of Spike and smiled a purely feminine smile of appreciation. *He is one fine specimen of male. Yum,* she thought.

"I's on the phone, shhh," Spike told her, holding his finger to his lips.

"Oh god, you're still drunk," Buffy moaned, getting out of bed and walking over to him. "Normal people wake up with hangovers. You wake up plastered." She started to take the phone from him, but he held onto it, a frown marring his face.

"Mine!" Spike said, pulling it back from her.

"Spike, give me the phone," she told him, tugging on it.

"No, mine," he repeated, tugging back. "Mine, mine."

"Now, Spike," she demanded, yanking on it.

"R2, let ‘em have it," he replied in a bad Mark Hammil impersonation, still not letting go.

Buffy growled at him, then reached around and goosed him with her other hand. Spike yelped, letting go of the phone as he spun around. She put the receiver to her ear. "Hello?"

"Buffy?"

"Hey, Giles," she replied, watching as the blond vampire began looking for who goosed him. She really needed to get some clothes on him soon. Seeing him prowl around naked was playing havoc on her libido. "What's up at...three o'clock in the morning? Ugh, is it that early yet?"

"Was that Spike?" Giles asked, the confusion evident in his voice.

"All five foot ten of him," she confirmed.

As the conversation went on behind him, Spike opened the top drawer of Buffy's dresser and began pawing through the clothing. He pulled out a purple, lace bra and turned, closing one eye and holding it up so it looked, to him, like she was wearing it. "I like your naughty bits, Schlayer," he said.

He turned back to the dresser, sliding the straps up his arms before continuing to dig through the drawer. He grabbed a pair of striped socks that had toes in them and flopped onto the floor, pulling them over his feet and up to his knees. Then, he leaned forward and opened the bottom drawer, moving so he was sitting on his heels in front of it.

"Come ‘long an' sing a schong an' join our fambily," Spike sang, pulling out a pair of Mickey Mouse ears and plunking them on his head. "M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E."

"Spike, what are you doing?" Buffy asked, covering up the mouthpiece on the phone.

"I's lookin' for my lost shaker of schalt," he replied, pulling out a long, blue scarf and tying it around his waist.

"Buffy?" Giles voice came over the line.

"Still here," Buffy told him. "I'll be there in about twenty minutes, as soon as I figure out a way to lock Spike in here so he doesn't give mom a heart attack." She said goodbye and disconnected.

"Schlayer? Why do you got one a dese?" Spike asked. "You gotta Spike, you don't need one a dese."

Buffy blushed beet red and snatched the vibrator out of his hand, throwing it back in the drawer and shoving it closed. "Stay out of my drawers," she told him.

"But I like it in your drawers," he complained. "You's gotta soft arse."

"And you have a naked one," she replied, moving to her closet. "Which we are going to cover right now."

Spike's eyes widened comically as he looked down in his lap. "I's nekked!"

"No shit, Sherlock," Buffy said, grabbing an old pair of sweats off her top shelf. She figured they'd be a little small, but at least he'd be wearing something.

"‘Zat make you Doctor Wasson?" he asked, staring up at her, mouse ears perched precariously on his blond head. "Wanna play doctor on me?"

"No, I don't want to play doctor on you," she replied, throwing the sweats at him. "Put those on."

"Don' wanna," he stated, folding his arms over the purple bra he was half wearing.

"You have got to be the most annoying vampire on the face of the earth," Buffy growled, stomping over to him and knocking him on his back. She grabbed his legs and straightened them, then shoved his feet through the sweats. Straightening, she marched over by his head and hoisted him to his striped sock clad feet, then yanked the sweats up.

Stepping back, she eyed him critically, trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sight he made in the striped socks, short tight grey sweats and a purple bra. Luckily, he had lost the mouse ears, or she would have been done for. As it was, it was all she could do not to find her camera and get a picture of him.

"Ok, Spike. I have to go. Why don't you try to sleep," she suggested, sliding on her own socks and gym shoes.

"I wanna go wit' you," Spike replied, watching her as she put on a coat.

"No," she answered, pulling her hair up into a pony tail.

"Why not?"

"Drunk vampires are not allowed," Buffy explained. "Now, go to bed."

"Fine," Spike said, sticking out his lower lip and walking over to the bed. "I didn't wanna bloody go, anyway."

Buffy sighed and looked up at the ceiling in a patented ‘why me' gesture. "Goodnight, Spike."

"Bye, Schlayer," he replied, having slid onto the bed, but still pouting.

She shook her head and made sure the lock was turned on her way out the door. She was glad her mother was a heavy sleeper. She would rather not try to explain the inebriated vampire in her bedroom wearing her bra. With a giggle at the image he had made, she quietly sneaked down the stairs and out the front door into the night.

Little did she realize that said inebriated vampire was very persistent in wanting to go with her. The moment she had closed the bedroom door, he was unsteadily on his feet amidst the sea of empty bottles. However, being inebriated made for him being easily distracted as he looked down and grinned.

"It'sa Rusky!" Spike exclaimed, bending to pick up the last full bottle from his bag. It took several tries for him to open the vodka, but once done, he had it drained in less than a minute. "Danka," he told the empty bottle before tossing it to the floor with the others.

Staring at the floor, his eyes lit up. He none too steadily hurried over to the desk, stopping long enough to plop the mouse ears back on his head, and grabbed some loose notebook paper and a pen. Then, returning to the other side, he sat on the floor and began to write. "I'll send an SOS to the world, I'll send and SOS to the world," he sang as he rolled the sheet up and stuck it in an empty bottle. "I hope that someone gets my, I hope that someone gets my, messhage in a bottle. Yeah. Messhage in a bottle. Yeah."

Spike continued to sing off key as he filled each and every empty bottle on the floor. When the last one was filled, he tapped the pen on the glass and finished the song with a flourish. "Yo ho ho, an' a bottle ovrum."

As carefully as a plowed vampire could be, he gathered the bottles up, putting them in the large, black bag. Then, he stood and made his way over to the bedroom door. He tried to open it, but found it locked. "Hey! It's schtuck!"

Setting down the bag, he put one foot on the door jam, grabbed the knob with both hands, and pulled as hard as he could. The door flew open as the lock broke, sending him falling backwards heavily onto the floor, knocking the shirt Buffy had been wearing earlier that evening onto his lap as his arm hit the desk chair. "Wassis?" he said as he picked it up, holding it out in front of him. "It'sa Schlayer shirt."

He brought the garment to his nose and inhaled deeply, his cock becoming rock hard as her scent hit him. "Yummy, Schlayer," he muttered into the material. His left hand crept below the waistband of his sweats, encircling his erection. He slowly began to stroke himself, his hips moving up with each downward movement as he breathed in the smell on the shirt.

In his head, it was not his hand, but Buffy's mouth that was wrapped around his shaft. He could feel the heat surrounding him as she slid her tongue down his length, rubbing against the sensitive underside. He moaned into the shirt, his hand tightening and relaxing as she sucked him. He watched in his mind's eye as her head bobbed up and down over him.

His strokes became faster as she took him deep in her throat, her nose brushing against his curls. As he inhaled her scent again, he started to shudder, his sac tightening. With a low growl, he climaxed, shooting his seed onto his abdomen, the scarf and the top of the sweats. He lay there for several minutes, smiling under the shirt.

Eventually he sat up and looked around the room. He spotted the bag on the floor and snickered. Plopping the mouse ears back on his head, he stood again, shouldered the bag and made his way back to the bathroom. Once there, he knelt in front of the tub and turned on the water, pushing the drain stopper. As it started to fill, he began removing the bottles from the bag and put them into the water. "In a town, where I was born. There lived a man, who sailed the schea. An' he lived a life ‘lone in his lellow submarine."

Soon, the tub was packed with bottles, each with a slip of paper rolled inside. He shut off the water and sat back on his heels, waiting. "Hey, your supposeda go ta sea," he told the bottles. "Jus' like a lellow submarine. But watch out for the big blue meanies, the wankers."

After a few more minutes, Spike got bored and stood up. He spotted the vanilla body wash on the floor and smiled. "Cap'n Nemo! Wanna go for a schwim?" he asked before adding it to the already full tub. "Say hello to the scheep!"

With a final wave to the bottles, the bra wearing Mouseketeer turned off the light, ambled out of the bathroom and down the stairs. "It'slinky, it'slinky, it's fun it'sa wonerful toy, it's fun for a girl an' a boy," he sang quietly as he hopped down the last three steps. Once on the main floor, he grabbed the end of the banister and swung himself around the corner, pretending to launch himself down the short hall to the kitchen. His striped, toed socks slid on the floor as he tried to stop, sending him into another fit of drunken laughter.

Spike went over to the refrigerator first, opening it up, then closing it, then reopening it. He continued to do this rapidly over and over until he glared inside. "Where'sa penguin?" he said. But instead of a cartoon animal, he found a bottle of red wine. "Ooh, looky what Spikey found."

Forgoing the corkscrew, he slid into game face and stuck his fang into the cork and yanked. It popped loudly as it came out, causing him to jerk his arm. A shower of red wine hit him in the chest and on the sweats. "I've been hit!" Spike gasped around the cork stuck on his canine. He looked down at himself and staggered, the purple bra falling off of him and to the ground. "Carter, we gotta gsw to the tummy. Gonna have ta operate! Stat!"

Somehow, the bottle of wine ended up on the counter without spilling onto the floor as the vampire went into dramatics. "Alas, poor Spike, we knew him as a bloody good bloke," he said sadly, clutching his stomach. He staggered slightly and bumped the refrigerator, closing the door. "Always carin' ‘bout his fellow vamp, liked to schag the Schlayer ‘til she could no longer walk. What a man ‘e was, ‘tis a bleedin' shame."

He thunked his head on the freezer door, then turned and glared at it. "Hey, watch where your goin' mate," he told it. Then, he grabbed the handle and pulled, sending a gust of cold air into his face. "Brr, chiwwy, wiwwy," he muttered, shivering.

Spike's bloodshot gaze caught sight of the carton of chocolate ice cream and he grabbed it with a delighted shout. "Whoopie, I scream, you scream, Spike screams for I'scream," he sang loudly, bouncing on his toes. He stepped away from the freezer and set the carton on the island, then went in search of a spoon.

The light suddenly went on above him and he turned quickly. "Who did dat?"

"Spike?" Joyce questioned, staring confusedly at the blond vampire.

"Hello, Joyce," Spike greeted cheerfully, giving her a toothy, corked grin.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, folding her arms over her robe.

"I's eatin' I'scream," he replied, pointing to the carton. "Want some?"

"At four in the morning? Wearing Mickey Mouse ears?"

"Yup yup," he said, mimicking Ducky from The Land Before Time.

Joyce shook her head and walked over to him, reaching out to pull the cork off his fang. "Are you drunk?"

"‘Pends," Spike said, his face morphing back to human. "Are you the coppers?"

"No," she replied.

"Then I's right tanked," he answered, puffing up his chest proudly. "An' I's gonna have some I'scream."

"Why don't you sit down," Joyce told him, pushing him slightly towards the stools. When he went, she got out a spoon and handed it to him, then started the coffee. "Is there any particular reason why you're drunk?"

"The Schlayer don't love me," Spike replied, digging into the ice cream. "An' I lovver whole bunches."

Joyce stopped and turned to him. "You're in love with Buffy?"

"S'right," he nodded, taking a large bite. "Mmm, cowd."

"When did this happen?"

"Don' know," Spike answered, continuing to eat right out of the carton. Little did he know that more was getting on him than in his mouth. "Jus' do. Lots an' lots."

"What is it with my daughter and vampires?" Joyce muttered, turning back to the coffee. Behind her, the plowed vampire began making airplane noises as he ate. "Well, at least this time it's a vampire I like."

"Joyce, are ya schure you don' want no I'scream?" Spike asked. "On ‘cuzzov I's gonna eat it all up, like a good boy. Mum says to eat ev'ra thing on the plate, or no ‘sert."

"That's quite alright, Spike," she replied, reaching for a mug to pour the coffee. "You go ahead and finish it."

Buffy walked in the back door at that moment, staring confusedly at her mom before she spotted the vampire. "Spike, how did you get out?" She tried not giggle at the picture he made, sitting at the island with chocolate all over his face and hands, mouse ears firmly on his blond head.

"Buffy, you knew he was here?" Joyce asked, shutting off the coffee maker.

"Yeah. I got home around eleven and found him in our bath tub, drunk as a skunk," she told her mom. "I locked him in my bedroom after an emergency Slayer meeting was called. Guess I underestimated Mickey."

"I's not Mickey, I's Spikey," Spike declared, then stuck the plastic spoon in his mouth for emphasis.

"What you should be is in bed," Buffy scolded with mock ire. She rolled her eyes at her mom as he started shaking his head no. "Why don't you go ahead back to bed, mom. I'll take care of the pest."

"Alright, honey," Joyce replied, giving one last look to the inebriated vampire. She decided it wasn't her secret to tell that he was in love with her daughter. "Ice pack is under the sink. I have a feeling that, come morning, he's going to need it."

"I have no doubt," she agreed. "Night, mom."

"Night, mum," Spike echoed around the spoon, waving. Joyce sighed and left the kitchen.

"You do know that your a pain, don't you?" Buffy asked him after her mom had left. He grinned at her. "Thought so. Come on, Mr. Messy. Looks like you get yet another bath. I should start charging you by the liter."

"Like petrol?" Spike questioned as she threw out the empty ice cream carton. She tried to take the spoon, but he refused to let go. "Hey, that's my schpoon. You can't ‘ave it. Not ‘less you gimme a kiss."

Buffy gave him a ‘you wish' glance and let him keep the spoon. She grabbed him none too gently by the arm and started out of the kitchen, stopping only briefly to pick up her discarded purple bra. Once upstairs, she pushed him into the bathroom, then turned on the light. "What did you do now?" she sighed, staring at the bottle filled bath tub.

Spike had sat down on the closed toilet seat and was staring up at her with a half-lidded gaze, spoon still in his mouth. "Schlayer, I's schleepy."

She looked at the chocolate covered vampire and rubbed her face tiredly. "I am, too," she replied. She shut the bathroom door and grabbed the washrag and bar of soap. "We're going to have to give you a sponge bath without the sponge, because I don't want to take the time removing all those bottles."

"There's messhages in the bottles," he told her after taking the spoon out of his mouth. "Don' tell no one, cuz they'sa secret."

"Ok, I won't," she said, taking the spoon from him, then removing the mouse ears and the scarf around his waist. "Stand up." He stood and she pulled down the soaked sweats. "You know, I've seen more of you today than I ever cared to see before. Sit."

Spike sat and she finished removing the sweats and socks. Taking the washrag, she got it wet and soapy, then began to clean him off. "I don't know why I'm doing this," she muttered. Then, he started to purr and her toes curled. "Well, maybe I have some idea."

Once re-cleaned, she rinsed out the rag and hung it on the towel bar, then dried him off. Somehow, she got the naked vampire back on his feet and down the hall to her bedroom. "Woah, deja vu," she said as she helped him into bed. This time, however, after she changed into a pair of boxers and a new t-shirt, she slid under the covers with him. He immediately put his arm around her waist and curled around her body, still purring. "‘Night Spike. I don't envy you when you finally wake up."

With that, she turned off the light and drifted off to sleep, not once caring that she was sharing a bed with her one time mortal enemy.

Who was in love with her.
 

Continued..