We put down the top and drove the old Thunderbird as fast as the poor girl
   could go up into the hills. We stopped at a gas station along the way and
   Spike bought some beer. Then we parked under the stars, climbed into the
   backseat, and kicked back with the stereo humming softly in the background.

   It was beautiful. The stars shining in the night sky, being able to enjoy
   the frothy head of a good beer, and the camaraderie of an old buddy...who
   did not know who I was but treated me with touching familiarity anyway...

   Hell, it probably was not even a good beer but I did not know any better.
   It was the taste that mattered and having living, working, sensitive taste
   buds that could appreciate more than just the salty flavor of blood.

   And it was being with somebody who knew me. Really knew *me*...

   I have been so fucking lonely these last few months, worse than ever before
   in my life. Even Doyle and Cordy have not scratched the true depths because
   neither of them was Buffy, and never would be.

   For just a little while, after my return from hell and before I departed
   Sunnydale, I had been given a taste of what it meant to be part of
   something. Something bigger than myself, something true and important, a
   group of friends dedicated to fighting the forces of evil.

   And I had been part of it. Me. The Scourge of Europe. For a few short
   months, I had worked as part of a team to make the world a better place and
   I had been a useful, contributing member. I had mattered.

   Buffy and I shared something too. We were partners, and friends, lovers
   without sex... Even without sex, we shared a kind of staggering,
   mind-blowing love that happens once in a lifetime. For me, it has happened
   once in two hundred and forty-three years, or approximately four or five
   lifetimes.

   Now my partner, my lover and friend, was off screwing some big, dumb brute
   from Iowa...Idaho...one of those potato-and-corn states. It was enough to
   make me want to cry in my beer and get really wasted.

   "You saw Angel this weekend?" Spike asked me out of the blue. If he was
   trying to be subtle he failed miserably. I could hear the curiosity in his
   voice. It was killing him.

   I took another long swig from my beer. "Yep."

   "What for?"

   I made him wait. I glanced over at him and he stared at me with typical
   Spike-like impatience. Spike is a lot like a little boy. He is terrible at
   waiting. His very impatience inspired me to fuck with him further.

   I smirked. "Well...I dress up in black rubber, sometimes leather, but
   mostly rubber, and I beat him with a crop."

   "Do not!" Spike exclaimed.

   "Do too!"

   "Don't believe it!" he denied.

   "Angel has a raspberry birthmark on his scrotum."

   Spike's jaw dropped. "Bloody hell! I thought soul-boy couldn't bugger
   without losing his freakin' marbles."

   I laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. "I didn't say we fucked.
   Angel just likes to be hurt, told what a bad boy he is. You know..." I
   winked. "Typical S&M but I don't really go in for the heavy stuff. He has
   some Oriental chick who services him for that."

   "Well I'll be damned..." Spike just kept shaking his head and repeating
   the destiny of his eternal being. "Never would have guessed it! Angel
   sure, but you!" He shook his head again.

   I was all I could do to keep from laughing. Willow's slender body is a
   lightweight at holding its liquor. I was already feeling the effects of the
   booze. I was happy and sad, as horny as hell, and a little bit crazy.
   Plus, I really had Spike fooled, going on and on about Willow, Leather
   Goddess, and Angel, whipped bad boy.

   Whoa! Visual!

   Suddenly, I stopped laughing. That had been a little too disturbing, even
   for me. The image of myself with Willow was so strange that aliens might
   have implanted the thought in my brain. But then, what the hell. I was so
   horny that Spike's leg was starting to look good.

   "So where are you planning on keeping this jalopy, luv?" Spike demanded with
   cheeky impudence.

   I turned without warning and slapped him hard across the face. His head
   turned with the impact and he blinked in surprise. "Willow or Mistress," I
   warned, raising the beer bottle threateningly. "Or I'll shove this up your
   ass."

   Spike looked ready to shift to game face until I leaned over and kissed the
   mark my palm had left on his cheek. "Willow or Mistress," I whispered
   against the cool flesh of his cheek. I tossed the beer bottle and my hands
   gripped his head. My fingers played like children in the soft blond silk of
   his hair.

   "I'm sorry...Mistress," he said as I settled a knee on either side his hips
   and planted myself on his lap. My skirt hiked and I did nothing to push it
   back down as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I promise that I'll be a
   good boy from now on."

   "I wouldn't want you to be too good," I said. "I like punishing you for
   being bad..." A secret little smile graced my lips as I ran my fingers
   through his hair, deliberately messing it up. Spike smiled and took my
   waist between his hands, spanning it easily from forefinger to thumb.

   "Well then, I won't be too good either," he assured me. Oh but Spike was
   willing to bend over backward to accommodate my whims. If I said "good", he
   jumped. If I said "bad", he leapt. Being Willow is gonna be such fun...

   My mind drifted and the answer to his earlier question--about where I would
   keep the Thunderbird--suddenly leapt into my mind. "At the mansion," I said
   and he stared at me blankly. "I'll keep the car at Angel's old mansion.
   He's not using it anymore and I'm sure he won't mind."

   Spike's expression was skeptical but *I* happen to be one hundred percent
   certain that Angel will not mind. "You can stay there too," I added
   magnanimously and he blanched. After all, a dom should look out for her
   subs. "It'll be better than staying with Xander or Giles and this way
   you'll be close to the car while you're working on it."

   Spike refused. He shook his head no but I persisted. "Oh, come' on!
   It'll be fun!"

   "Angel wouldn't want me there and I don't wanna be there," Spike countered.
   "Too many old memories..." His eyes drifted and his mind was on Dru.

   "Angel won't mind, and besides, he owes me," I said, unbuttoning the top
   three buttons of my blouse. Spike's eyes returned front and center to me.
   Good, I had his attention again. "If he gives me shit, I'll double-time him
   with a rattan cane. Come' on, pleasssse..."

   "OH ALL RIGHT!" Spike gave in and his expression suddenly grew bashful as
   what I had said sank in. "You'd do that for me?" he asked with a goofy
   grin. "Beat the bloke with rattan?"

   I nodded, wearing the most solemn face I could manage and Spike's
   expression of goofiness blossomed into one of awestruck love. "Only for
   you, my Big Bad," I cooed, trying so hard not to laugh that it hurt.

   I had to distract both him and myself from laughing so I unbuttoned my
   blouse for him. Spike's nimble fingers helped part the fabric, revealing my
   black see-through, push-up bra his eager eyes. He undid the front fasten
   with two fingers, as easy as you please.

   The awe and admiration on his face were satisfying to behold. Briefly, I
   felt a tad guilty of taking credit for Willow's accomplishments but I
   assuaged the guilt. Willow never would have seen this expression on his
   face anyway, because she never would have let this happen with Spike.

   "I like this," I said, pressing my lips against the scar marring his
   eyebrow, which was soft and fuzzy beneath my flesh. I have always loved
   that scar. It had been over a hundred years since he let me touch it like
   this. "It's perfect. You'd be too pretty without it and it adds a touch of
   character."

   Spike snorted and I felt the air from his exhalation against my throat.
   "Pretty, not bloody likely. Tell me something, Mistress," he said as his
   nimble fingers tugged my blouse out of my skirt. I shrugged it off. "Why
   me? Why now? I mean, what's with the sudden change? You've always struck
   me as too white bread to be comin' on to a demon. Have you forgotten...
   Hello, evil, here?"

   I giggled and dragged my lips away from his eyebrow. My mouth drifted to
   his and I spoke against his lips. "Maybe now that the Big Bad is just a big
   fluffy puppy I find you more accessible," I suggested, pressing a delicate
   kiss to his mouth.

   "Or maybe I've changed," I said. His lips parted for me. One soft kiss
   followed another and another. Gradually, I worked up to slipping my tongue
   past his lips into the recesses of his mouth. I demanded; he yielded. He
   gave it up to me. Everything I asked of him and more...his lips, tongue,
   teeth...

   Spike turned me over so that I lay beneath him. His mouth drifted to my
   tits, which he attacked with a sort of ravenous hunger. He was not gentle.
   He sucked so hard he left marks and my nipples stung as he suckled, bit, and
   chewed on them.

   It felt so fucking good...

   I creamed on his thigh, grinding against his leg like a bitch in heat while
   he continued to commit indelicate acts of carnage with my nipples. His hand
   replaced his thigh against my pussy and helpful fingers dragged aside my
   soaked thong to gain better access.

   I shook like a leaf as male fingers touched me there for the first time. I
   cannot describe...it seems impossible to quantify with words. He began by
   stroking my...and fingering my...and one finger wedged into my pussy and
   then two...and then...OHMIGOD.

   The earth shook. The world lurched. The heavens moved and I came. Not
   just once, or twice, but over and over and over again. It was fucking
   incredible. It never stopped and I howled and shrieked and expressed myself
   as vocally and verbally and loudly as I possibly could.

   It was not until I became aware of Spike grunting and groaning on top of me
   as he labored with pulling down his pants that it occurred to me he intended
   to fuck me. "No intercourse!" I shrieked in a panic.

   He froze and glared. "Why the hell not?" Spike demanded with a resentful
   frown. He was not a happy camper.

   "Because I said so!" I exclaimed, sitting up. Spike looked crushed and my
   heart softened with pity. Poor sub...I had put him through more than
   enough. "Come' on," I cajoled gently. "I'll give you a blow job," I
   offered kindly. I felt like a bad nurse offering a child a sucker.

   Or offering to suck him, as the case might be...

   Spike's lower lip pouted. "Well...all right," he agreed. He began to pull
   down his pants.

   That was when one of Sunnydale's lower life forms decided to attack. With
   a shout of rage, Xander dragged my sub from the car and began beating the
   living crap out of Spike. Xander, Willow's hero, come to the rescue.

   Oh yeah.
 

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