Chapter One

The hard shove sent Buffy flying backwards onto the mattress. Instantly she found herself pinned down by strong, muscular arms. She made several feeble attempts at escape, but the hands held her shoulders firmly to the bed.

She was quickly becoming more and more aware of the masculine body on top of her. Her captor allowed his full weight to rest upon her, knowing both that he wouldn’t crush her due to her Slayer strength and that if he didn’t use his weight to his advantage, he wouldn’t be able to hold her down for the very same reason. If she tried to fight him, that was. Right now fighting him was the furthest thing from Buffy’s mind.

Instead, she was entranced by the gaze that met hers. How often had those eyes held her with their power and intensity? And now she found herself absolutely helpless and at their mercy.

Slowly, the face above her moved closer, those brilliant eyes never breaking contact for an instant, not giving her the chance to escape. She felt her body temperature begin to rise as she looked into the dark, deep passion of those eyes.

And then his lips brushed hers.

It was a gentle touch at first, as light as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. She panted desperately when the lips moved away. And then they were upon hers in full force. She felt that they were curved in a smile at her demonstration of need. A low moan escaped the back of her throat at his smile, and she eagerly parted her lips, allowing his tongue to thrust deep inside her mouth. Without hesitation she joined it with her own, and the two intertwined in an erotic dance.

She found her arms free as his hands wrapped around her body, pulling her deeper into their kiss. She took full advantage of this, gliding her nails up and down his muscular back, into his silken hair, back down his spine…

She suddenly became aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. At precisely this moment, one of his hands came forward to knead her breast, indicating that her shirt had vanished as well. In fact, she now realized that they were fully naked, still locked in that passionate kiss…

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled away, her head falling back against the silk sheets as she gasped for air. Her eyelids fluttered open, and somewhere within the haze of her desire she tried to remember when exactly she had shut them.

The question soon became moot as they snapped shut once again at the feeling of his mouth upon her breast. Soft whimpers passed by her lips as her sensitive nerves were assaulted by that oh-so-skillful mouth. He nipped and sucked at her milky white flesh, and she laced her fingers in his hair, first gently and then roughly, pulling his mouth down to her.

When his tongue first flicked over her hardened nipple, she cried out in ecstasy. One of her legs wrapped around him, holding him tightly to her, begging more…

And then that delightful mouth was gone. She whimpered at the loss and opened her eyes to see him hovering over her. God, he was beautiful! He was no less perfect than a marble statue - handsome features, well-defined muscles… She venture a look down at lower portions of his anatomy…

Oh god! So long and hard, and all for her…

The leg behind his back tightened its grip once again and then began to slide languorously down his side, around those slender thighs… He let out a slight growl and recaptured her lips with a newborn intensity. Their bodies pressed firmly together, and she could now feel the firmness of his erection pressed against her inner thigh.

Once again she broke their kiss. “Please…” she begged, looking longingly into those beautiful eyes of his.

“Do you want me?” he said softly, holding her gaze and matching its passion.

“I want you,” she replied breathlessly. “I want you so bad it hurts. I…need you!”

His mouth bent down for one second to lick at the soft flesh of her throat. “Need you, too, pet,” his voice was barely a whisper. “I love you, you know,” a smile played upon the edges of his delicious lips. “Always.”

“I know.” She gave him a small smile of her own.

Their lips met again, and the next second he thrust inside her hard…

* * *

“BUFFY!”

“Huh?!” She shook her head, trying to break the trance she had been under.

“Sign’s finished,” Xander said, waving his hand in front of her face. “We can continue with the meeting now.”

“Right…” she said, using her full strength to rip her gaze from that of the peroxide vampire who was leaning against the ladder in the Magic Box. His posture seemed to suggest both casual boredom and seductive sexuality at the same time…if that were possible.

“So,” Willow began, “we can chalk up the theft at the museum to the nerdy trio now…since they had the diamond and all. And we’ve solved yet another mystery.”

“Yeah, see?” Xander said proudly. “I was right. That whole freezing thing in the Dungeons & Dragons hand-manual. That was all me.”

“Yes, dear, you were right. We all acknowledge your researching brilliance,” Anya patted his shoulder reassuringly. “Now,” she turned to more important matters…at least, for her, “what do you think about this catering plan for the reception?”

Their voices seemed to fade into the background as Buffy watched Spike yawn and stretch languidly back against the ladder. Firm muscles rippled beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt - the very same royal purple one he had worn their first night together - and she couldn’t help but recall just how good those muscles tasted. She discovered to her consternation that her nipples had hardened and her panties were getting soggier by the minute. All these Spike fantasies were not helping!

“And it was completely cleared out?” Dawn asked, grabbing a handful of nachos from the bowl in Xander’s lap.

“Empty,” Willow pouted. “They sure moved fast.”

“Yeah, well maybe if Evil Undead over there had told us where they were hanging out earlier, they wouldn’t have gotten away.” Xander cast a distasteful glance in Spike’s direction.

Spike’s gaze left Buffy's for an instant to glare at Xander. “And maybe if you’d bother to inform me that that ridiculous lot of humans were tryin’ ta play ‘Big Bad’, I’da told you where they were sooner.”

Oh god, was his accent gorgeous! Buffy found herself breathing more heavily just at the sound of his voice. How does he do this me? She marveled. It must be a thrall… Does Spike even have a thrall?

“Well, we didn’t exactly notice they were up to anything until they…well, announced it,” Willow said defensively.

“S’pose the gits are easy to overlook,” Spike shrugged. “Bleedin’ wankers.”

And he was soooo sexy when he got snarky. Buffy felt her heart pounding in her chest. Oh god, I need him to touch me… Just one quick fix…

Spike’s eyes ran her up and down and he sniffed the air casually before a wicked leer curled across his lips. Buffy knew she was caught. Hell, she could even smell her arousal. Her face turned bright red, and she quickly turned back to what Anya was saying.

“I mean, what are we even going to do if we catch Warren, Jonathan, and…er…”

“Oh, allow me!” Xander said, proudly lifting up his sign. Written in magic markers in big bold letters were the words “WHAT’S HIS NAME = ANDREW.”

“…And Andrew?” Anya finished. “That sign really is most helpful, dear. And you look very sexy with silver glitter on your cheek.”

“Ah yes, the manly attributes of silver glitter,” Xander leaned back. “The sure way to any woman’s heart…”

Buffy stopped listening to the far-too-happy couple and turned her attention back to more important matters. What? Ogling Spike is very important, her mind insisted. He looked hopelessly bored now and was starting to fidget. Oh, soon he’ll start pacing. Pacing-Spike very sexy…all prowly and energetic… Of course, fidgeting-Spike is sexy, too. Oh! And angry-Spike and let’s-go-kill-stuff-Spike and soulful-puppy-dog-eyed-Spike and… The litany went on and on in her head.

“So, I guess that’s all we can do for now,” Willow concluded.

“Huh?” Buffy once again demonstrated her amazing ability to stay on-topic…well, on non-Spike topic anyway.

“They summon stuff; you kill it; we keep trying to find them,” Willow repeated.

“Oh…right… Good idea!” she quickly said. “I should go kill stuff. Right now. And Spike should come with me.” Gonna get my fix! Her sex-drive was doing a little happy-dance in her head.

“Right then, let’s go.” With feline grace, the subject of her fantasies pushed himself up from the ladder and sauntered over to her.

She stood up as he approached, and for an instant they stood so close - too close - their chests only inches apart. Need him now! Her mind cried out.

He gave her a saucy smile, reading her mind perfectly as usual, and took a step back. Her body slumped slightly at the loss of his nearness.

“Coming, are you?” he teased, his eyes conveying all-too-clearly the promise of things to come in that innocent-sounding phrase.

“Uh…yeah! Off patrolling! Bye, guys!” She nearly ran out the door the vampire held open for her, and he followed her out.

“I can’t help but wonder what diabolical plans the Trio has for us next,” Willow said before turning back to her laptop.

* * *

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…” Jonathan said, pacing back and forth across their new basement hideaway.

“Slayer’s gonna find us, Slayer’s gonna kill us, Slayer’s gonna find us…” Andrew’s mantra continued as he rocked back in his chair.

Warren’s head was this close to exploding. “Will you guys knock it off?” he requested for the umpteenth time. “The Slayer has no idea where we are. Thus, she cannot kill us.”

“She’ll find us, though,” Andrew insisted. “Her and all her super-powered friends are gonna come barging in here...and we are so dead!”

“I don’t think you’re fully grasping this whole ‘super-villains’ concept,” Warren retorted sarcastically. “We kill Slayer. We kill Super-Friends. Slayer and Super-Friends can’t come after us.”

“B-But we can’t kill the Slayer!” Jonathan protested.

Warren turned an annoyed glance at his not-so-eager partner-in-crime.

Jonathan wisely decided to change his tactics. “Sh-She’s strong and fast and stuff. We can’t kill her. We’re just…us,” he giggled nervously.

Warren threw his head back in disgust. “I refuse to admit that somewhere, at some time, there wasn’t something that could defeat her!”

“Well, yeah, there probably was,” Jonathan acknowledged. “But it’s not here now.”

“Then make it come here!” Warren demanded. “Do a summoning spell or something!”

* * *

With a loud roar, Spike seized the head of the last vamp, ripping it from its shoulders with his bare hands. It exploded in a shower of dust.

“You know, there are more efficient ways of killing those things,” Buffy gestured to unused stake tucked neatly in his belt.

“ ‘S not half as much fun that way, pet,” he gave her a sly smile. “And you know it.”

“Oh? Look at me, using a stake like a normal person.” She jabbed the air in front of her with the wood for emphasis.

“That so, luv?” he asked, taking a sultry step toward her.

“Yup.” It really was more of a gulp.

“Really?” he advanced further until the tip of her stake was mere inches from his heart.

“Uh-huh,” she insisted, her pulse racing and her pupils dilating as she gazed into the sapphirine depths of his eyes.

“Then why aren’t you using your stake, luv?” He pushed her hand aside and caught her around the waist, pulling her flush up against him.

She found her mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

“Maybe,” his hand deftly removed the stake from her fingers and caught hold of her wrist, “we should use my stake.” He guided her hand to the large bulge at the front of his jeans, and a low growl grumbled through the back of his throat as she unconsciously began to stroke him…

* * *

“OK,” Jonathan said, printing out the spell from the Internet. “This should work.”

“Then do it!” Warren demanded.

“I-I’m not exactly sure of the consequences of this spell,” Jonathan began.

Andrew looked curiously over his shoulder, chewing away at a half-eaten Rice Crispies square. “Calls forth her greatest enemy,” he shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

Warren gave him a triumphant look.

“Fine…” Jonathan sighed and took a second to center himself.

Then, in a half-possessed state, he grabbed a piece of chalk and slowly drew a continuous arc around himself. He sat down in the middle, eyes shut. “Mirror!” he demanded. After a bit of shuffling starship plans, Andrew provided one. Jonathan placed it before him. “Candle and holywater!” These items were also rushed into the circle.

Carefully lighting the candle, Jonathan began to chant off of the page before him. The rising and falling cadence of Latin tones echoed throughout the basement hideout, and mystical energy crackled through the air. The rhythm of the spell built and built until finally the magic reached its peak.

“Through the sands of space and time, bring forth the Slayer’s greatest foe!” Jonathan cried out and looked down at the scene that appeared in the mirror in front of him…

* * *

Sunnydale, 1997…

“The stars are changing…changing… Lookit the little birdies, flitting about between day and night…”

“Uh-huh. Fascinating, pet.” Spike was sitting in a chair in the direct center of the warehouse, sulking. Only Drusilla was about, dancing around in nothing but a slip for no apparent reason. All their minions had taken his obvious fury and firm order of “Out!” to heart, and had long since fled for their lives.

This left Spike alone with a less-lucid-than-usual Dru to brood over his most recent failure. No! His eyes widened in horror. I do not brood! That’s for the Poof to do. I’m…raging! Yes, that’s it! Much more manly sounding…

He decided that he needed to look more like he was raging than brooding too, and began to pace the room, ranting as he went. “I had her!” he insisted. “I was this close! I could hear the blood stop in her veins and see her eyes fill with death…”

“…Pretty little birdies…gouge out their eyes…snap off their beaks…” Drusilla flitted by, taking up an orbital path around his own.

“And then her mother hits me! Her mother!” he screamed in frustration. “Knocked out by a bleedin’ human! And the Slayer’s mother, to boot! I’ll never live it down!”

“…One by one, pluck out the feathers…falling, falling…like the sands of the hour glass…”

“ ‘So are the days of our lives’,” Spike couldn’t help but mutter under his breath. “The Slayer!” he exclaimed. “This close…so close…” He threw his head back.

“…Sand falling, falling…rising?” Drusilla stopped abruptly in front of him.

Spike turned his attention to her, looking her squarely in the eyes. “What is it, Dru?” he asked.

She giggled. “Good-bye, my Spike. Have a pleasant trip, and come back to mommy soon.”

“What are you talking about?” he began.

And then, in a flash of white light, he was gone.

Chapter Two

“What the bleedin’ hell?” were Spike’s first words as he opened his eyes to find himself lying flat on his back in the middle of a cemetery. “Dru?” he asked cautiously, wondering if his insane lover had randomly decided to put him into some bizarre thrall. He got no response.

Hesitantly he sniffed the air, trying to figure out where he was. This all had the feel of dark magic, and he didn’t like it one bit. The scent that wafted into his nose sent nervous tingles down his spine. There was exactly one scent on the planet that could send tingles down a vampire’s spine: Slayer.

Having less common sense than most vampires or perhaps still being really pissed at his failure to kill her earlier, Spike followed the scent and came upon the Slayer seemingly struggling with a man in the middle of the clearing. Keeping his eyes focused on her at all times, he slunk through the shadows to get a better view of what was happening…

And he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Oh, Cor, pet! Don’t stop!” he heard an all-too-familiar voice cry out.

His jaw dropped. The Slayer’s companion was none other than…himself! And they weren’t struggling at all. Rather, the Slayer had her hand in his pants and was stroking him up and down. He could do nothing but stare in disbelief as the fiery little blonde thorn-in-his-side dropped to her knees and firmly latched her lips around her companion’s cock. His doppelganger wove one hand into her hair, clutching her head to him, while the other held him up against a nearby gravestone. The other Spike moaned and snarled and growled as the Slayer gave him what looked to be the mother of all blowjobs.

Spike felt himself growing hard at the sight of utter ecstasy on his twin’s face. He automatically unfastened his own belt and released the persistent bulge in his pants, stroking it in time with the Slayer’s sucks on his counterpart. His hands moved faster and faster, and he could almost feel the spitfire’s mouth deep-throating him.

“Yes! Just like that, luv! Just like that!”

Spike came just as his twin cried out these words. He couldn’t help but feel dizzy for a second. After all, he hadn’t cum that hard in quite some time.

He neatly tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up as he continued to watch the couple in the clearing.

They were talking to each other now, too softly for even vampiric hearing to pick up. However, the just of the conversation was all too clear. His look-alike had an imploring look on his face, while the Slayer crossed her arms in front of her and turned her back to him. He tried to spin her around to face him, but she shrugged him off. And both their expressions turned angry.

“Fine!” he heard the other Spike call out after her retreating form, “but when you come back later to have that itch scratched, be prepared to beg for it!”

“In your dreams, Spike!” the Slayer called back.

“And in yours, too!” he retorted and then began swearing once she was gone.

Spike’s head was starting to hurt. He sat back against a grave marker and tried to think logically about his situation. The Slayer…giving him a blowjob… It was insane. That settled it: this was just another of Dru’s mind-games. But the argument he’d just overheard made him second-guess this conclusion. Dru’s little imposed fantasies were never this…coherent. He sighed in frustration. Well, no point in thinking about it, mate. Get up and do something about it. Hey, what could he say? He was a hands-on type of vamp. And since only one of the players in the show was still there, the choice was made for him to follow his doppelganger into a nearby crypt…

* * *

“What happened?” Warren demanded as he shook Jonathan’s shoulder hard.

“Yeah, you OK, man?” Andrew asked. “That was a pretty bright explosion.”

“Explosion?” Jonathan asked, coming back to his senses.

“Yeah, it was way cool,” Andrew informed him. “All of a sudden ‘bam’! It was just like how Q teleports…or at least how he does after ‘Encounter at Farpoint’ since that episode broke all the rules of continuity and-”

“Will you be quiet!” Warren interrupted him.

He got meek silence as his response.

“That’s better,” he scowled at Andrew. “Now, what happened?” he repeated.

“I…looked into the mirror,” Jonathan began.

“And?”

“And it was Spike and some weird half-naked chick,” Jonathan shrugged. “I think something got messed up.”

“Half-naked chick?” Andrew followed up on the all-so-important details.

“It was Spike?” Warren asked a more relevant question.

“Yeah,” Jonathan nodded. “I think I might have summoned him.”

“Well, he’s not here,” Andrew said, looking around nervously. “Which is good…sorta…”

“Uh-oh,” Jonathan said.

“Uh-oh?” Warren inquired.

“Well, if he’s not here, then I don’t know what happened,” Jonathan explained.

* * *

Spike flung open the door to see his counterpart with his back to him, pouring a glass of bourbon and blood. “Back so soon, pet? This has to be an all-time record even for you…” The 2002-Spike stopped short when he saw that the intruder was…himself.

“What the bleedin’ hell?” he repeated 1997-Spike’s assessment of the situation from earlier.

“My sentiments exactly,” 1997-Spike agreed.

2002-Spike sniffed the air. “You’re…”

“…Me,” 1997-Spike mirrored his actions.

2002-Spike’s eyes widened in astonishment for a second before narrowing to suspicious slits. “That’s not possible,” he hissed, stalking over to his twin and beginning to circle him.

1997-Spike began a predatory circle of his own, keeping a cautious eye on his opponent’s movements. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “So who are you?”

“I’m Spike,” 2002-Spike insisted. “Who are you?”

“The same.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, you are.”

“I am not! And there’s only one Spike.”

“And it’s me!”

“No, it’s me!” 2002-Spike snarled, his eyes flashing yellow.

1997-Spike stepped back out of their continuous pacing circle. “You’re good,” he cocked his head to one side and checked the scent in the air again. It was definitely his. “What are you? A shape-shifter?”

“I’m a vampire,” 2002-Spike insisted. “You’re probably just another of that pansy human’s bots, am I right? I’ll rip that wanker a new one soon as I get this chip out.”

“What are you talking about?” 1997-Spike demanded. “And where’s Dru? Where have you taken me?”

“Dru?” 2002-Spike’s scarred eyebrow raised an inch. “Looks like your programming’s a bit out of date, mate. She’s probably living the unlife all through South America right ‘bout now.”

“South America?” 1997-Spike said incredulously. “She was here all of ten minutes ago. And what’s all this talk ‘bout ‘programming’?”

“That loser didn’t tell you what you were, huh?” 2002-Spike shrugged. “I must admit he’s getting better. ‘d love to know how he got your scent right.”

“I know what I am,” 1997-Spike growled. “I’m Spike, William the goddamn Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, and your ridiculous little mind games aren’t going to work on me.”

2002-Spike scoffed with laughter. “Oh, you’re me, are ya? Well, prove it then, mate.”

“Fine,” 1997-Spike threw up his hands in disgust. “Bet you don’t know my big sister’s name.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” the present-day Spike retorted. “I never had a big sister, just a little one.”

1997-Spike frowned slightly. He didn’t expect his opponent to catch him that easily. “Her name was Margaret,” he countered.

“And her middle name was Rebecca,” 2002-Spike retorted.

“1925 in Madrid…”

“…I killed a master…”

“…Her name was Raven…”

“…Her mate came after me…”

“…Dru killed him…”

“…Struck him right through the back and ripped out his heart,” 2002-Spike finished, slightly disturbed by this chain of events. There was no way Warren could have known this much about his past. But there had to be a way to catch this imposter in the act… “My turn: 1940 in Poland…”

“Not in Poland,” 1997-Spike corrected. “We’d already escaped into Russia by 1940.”

“True,” 2002-Spike conceded in disbelief. “We stayed in Kiev where we met…”

“…Darla. She was trying to get out of the war-zone, too…”

“…We were shacked up in this abandoned military barracks…”

“…And we were caught there in the daytime when those bloody soldiers decided to re-open the soddin’ place…”

“…Three of us had to hide under a tank all day…”

“…Finally slaughtered the whole lot once the sun set. Then Darla ran off again,” 1997-Spike said. He was starting to get slightly weirded out, too. Not even the best telepath was this good. And he didn’t know of any shape-shifting demons that could pull off this act so well. “My turn: 1977…”

“…New York, killed the Slayer, yadda-yadda-yadda…”

“What was she wearing?”

“This duster,” 2002-Spike gestured to the leather that was slumped over the chair in front of the TV. “Too easy. 1997, Sunnydale: what day did I regain the use of my legs?”

“What?” 1997-Spike said in bewilderment.

“Oh, c’mon,” 2002-Spike prodded. Gotcha, he added in his head. “Surely you remember the bloody wheelchair?”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ ‘bout, mate,” 1997-Spike insisted, more confused than anything.

“Hello, paralysis? Wheelchair? The Great Poof returning to his not-so-soulful self?” the present-day Spike clarified.

“Never happened,” 1997-Spike insisted, somewhat relieved that his imposter’s façade was slipping. “Some holes startin’ to appeal in your identity?”

“More like in yours,” the 2002 vampire retorted. “OK, how ‘bout an easy one: when did the Slayer first kiss me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the past Spike scoffed. “Slayer’s never done any such thing…” The incident in the cemetery suddenly came back to his mind, and he realized that the Slayer probably had kissed this Spike. This was starting to make even less sense than before. “Wait a minute… When did the Slayer first kiss you?”

“1999, while we were under Red’s spell,” the present Spike answered.

“What?!” 1997-Spike exclaimed. “You’ve got your years fouled up. ‘S 1997!”

“2002.”

“What?!”

“ ‘S 2002,” 2002-Spike patiently repeated.

“1997,” the past vampire insisted.

“Not for five years, mate.”

“Then I’m…”

“…From the past,” 2002-Spike finished for him.

Both their eyes widened with this realization.

“Wait, when did you say you come from?” 2002-Spike demanded.

“1997. I just finished my first battle with the Slayer last night…”

“…So, you came back, killed the Annoying One…”

“…Sent out all the minions…”

“…And shagged Dru.”

“What?” 1997-Spike asked.

“She was stronger than usual that night,” 2002-Spike insisted. “That was all that happened. Didn’t fly forward into the future.”

“Well, I did.”

“Something’s wrong then…” the present-day Spike collapsed into an armchair.

His past self did the same in the other chair. “ ‘S not natural. I thought I felt some magical presence earlier…”

“We’re gonna have to fix this,” the present-time counterpart sighed.

“Yeah, but how?”

* * *

“Stupid, evil, undead, sexy vampire!” Buffy absentmindedly kicked a tombstone and flinched somewhat guiltily when it fell over.

“Oops!” she exclaimed nervously. And then her anger returned.

“It’s all his fault, you know,” she informed the shattered grave marker. “If he didn’t have to be so goddamn irresistible, I wouldn’t be having this problem!”

She leaned over to try to right the stone cross, but it had broken off at the base. She sighed in frustration.

“What’s wrong with me?” she fell to the ground and leaned back against the oddly angled cross. “It’s just lust, right? I should be able to fight it. I’m the Slayer, dammit! It’s my job not to be seduced by the oh-so-sexy vampires out there. So why can’t I do it?”

The cold stone had no response for her.

“It’s just that…whenever I’m around him, I feel…alive again,” she confessed. “My body goes haywire, and suddenly I just can’t stop myself. I have to have him. Ugh,” she let her head fall back. “I’m hopeless.”

She sat like that for a few seconds before getting up, brushing herself off, and continuing on her patrol.

“All I have to do is stay away from him,” her monologue continued. “If I don’t see him, then my sex drive won’t have anything to latch onto, and I’ll be fine.” A resolved look took over her face. “I just have to avoid him from now on!” she affirmed.

And then she realized that she was standing right in front of the door to his crypt.

“Oh shit!” she swore.

“Well,” the part of her mind that kept insisting that she didn’t really want him kicked in, “this is good in a way. I can tell him that it’s over, and then I won’t have to see him again. Yup, I’m going to tell him right now. Here I go…”

She flung open the door to the crypt…

And two identical peroxide blond heads turned abruptly to look at her.

Two Spikes!

Anyone in the mood for a threesome? A very dirty part of her mind asked.

“Oh shit…” she repeated under her breath as they both rose from their chairs…

Chapter Three

“Well?” Warren demanded as he looked at the screen over Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Um…I think,” Jonathan hastily read the text over again, “that I might have pulled a Spike from the past into the present.”

“That would make more sense,” Andrew nodded, pulling back the top layer of bread on his peanut butter and salami sandwich, sniffing it, wrinkling his nose, and then eating it anyway. “Since we don’t really have to summon Spike since he’s…well, here.”

“A Spike from the past,” Warren said thoughtfully. “This might actually work out after all. Didn’t they used to try to kill each other or something?”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding? I heard from Ryan who heard from Sandy who heard from Evan who heard from Harmony who heard from Cordelia that Spike was the one to trashed the school to get at her junior year.”

Warren smiled wickedly. “Then maybe this actually was a good idea…”

* * *

“Well, well, well… Lookit the tasty morsel that’s decided to visit,” the black t-shirt clad Spike licked his lips suggestively.

“Watch it, mate!” The violet-shirted Spike quickly stepped between Buffy and his past counterpart.

Buffy was still standing in the doorway, a ‘huh?’ look frozen on her face.

“Rushin’ to the lady’s rescue now?” 1997-Spike smiled evilly. “She must be an even better cock-sucker than she looked.”

2002-Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You never talk ‘bout her that way…”

“Or you’ll what? Kill me? Wipe out your entire existence?” his opponent retorted.

“If that’s what it takes…”

Both their eyes flashed yellow simultaneously, and twin low growls rumbled through the room.

Oh, they’re going to fight! That oh-so-unhelpful part of Buffy’s mind was still in control. It conjured up the rather arousing image of the two of them going at it with fists and fangs…while naked…with her in the middle…

The first few blows had already been exchanged when she finally managed to pull herself back from that very happy place. She shook her head dazedly and quickly realized that this fight was going to get out of hand if she didn’t do something about it - and not in the good, Buffy-fulfilling way.

“Spike!”

It was a bit disconcerting to see two platinum heads turn in her direction.

“Um…” she found herself a bit bewildered again. “Stop that,” she gestured to their continued circling of each other. “And what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t take orders from you, Slayer,” the black-shirted Spike flashed her an evil leer and took a swaggering step toward her.

“Watch out, pet,” the other Spike called out. “He’s not me.”

“You know, that’s really funny,” Buffy held her ground, her body tensed, as the black-shirted Spike moved right into her personal space, “because he looks exactly like you.” Her eyes fluttered lightly shut as his hand reached out to brush a lock of her silken blond hair behind her ear.

She heard a snarl and opened her eyes at the loss of contact to discover that the purple-shirted Spike had the black-shirted one pinned to the crypt wall, fangs flashing.

“Mine!” the violet-shirted Spike hissed. “Keep your filthy hands off!”

“They’re your hands too,” the past-Spike remained completely cool at his situation. “If they’re so filthy, maybe you should keep ‘em off.”

“Mine would never hurt her!” the present-Spike insisted.

Buffy was starting to figure things out. The violet-clad vampire was pretty obviously ‘her’ Spike, while the other one was…something different. He did seem strangely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Anyway, she would never get to the bottom of this if she didn’t keep ‘her’ Spike from ripping his throat out.

“Let him go, Spike,” she demanded, resting her hand on her not-quite-lover’s shoulder.

His icy gaze melted as he turned to look at her, and he nodded sheepishly before releasing his quarry.

“Oh, whipped!” the black-clad Spike snorted. “ ‘m ashamed to be you-”

His insult was quickly cut off as Buffy grabbed hold of him where his future-self had let off and shoved him hard into the wall.

“Who. Are. You?” she demanded in a tone that brooked no argument.

“ ‘m Spike,” he shrugged, a delectably evil smirk spreading over his lips at her obvious confusion.

“He’s come from the past,” the more helpful Spike explained. “Near ‘s I can tell, he’s me from right after we first met.”

The past-Spike growled at his future counterpart. Apparently, the wanker had lost all sense of how much fun it was to make the Slayer squirm.

“A time-traveler?” Buffy said incredulously. “Are you sure?”

‘Her’ Spike leaned up against the wall next to his twin so that she could look into his eyes as well. “Knows everything I know,” he shrugged, “up till right after our first fight, that is. ‘e’s got my scent, too. Don’t think there’s any other explanation.”

Buffy nodded and turned to the captive vampire. “Is this true?”

1997-Spike sighed. There was no point in hedging around the truth since his look-alike had already spilled it. “Yeah, near as I can figure it.”

Buffy felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. “Why did you come to this time?” she demanded.

“Oy, now! I had nothin’ ta do with that!” the past-Spike insisted. “Was just mindin’ my own business and then wham! I’m stuck in the middle of this freak show.”

Far too many years of having to try to decipher his mercurial moods led Buffy to the instant conclusion that he was telling the truth.

“Then someone else brought you here…” she said thoughtfully.

“No, really?” 1997-Spike’s voice was dripping sarcasm. “And here I always thought time was spontaneously and randomly whipping me around.”

“I’ll whip you around,” she muttered under her breath.

Unfortunately, vampiric hearing meant that everyone present in the crypt had heard exactly what she had said. ‘Her’ Spike had a rather glazed look in his eyes and was obviously imagining the more pleasant side effects such a situation could bring about. His past self was giving her an I-dare-you-to-try sneer.

Buffy sighed in exasperation. One Spike was difficult enough to deal with at any given time. But two? “We’ll just have to get you back home then,” she decided out loud.

“That was what we’d decided,” ‘her’ Spike added.

“If I let you go, will you behave yourself?” she demanded of the vamp from her past.

“Define ‘behave’,” he leered at her suggestively.

Buffy groaned. Two hormone-addled vampires for the price of one…just great! “Will you refrain from trying to kill me until we can figure out how to take you back?” she said in a patronizingly slow voice, as if he were a child.

His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared slightly, but then he shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, why not? Anything to get back to Dru…”

Buffy saw ‘her’ vampire flinch out of the corner of her eye at the mention of his ex’s name. She released the Spike in front of her and turned to the other. He gave her the dreaded we-need-to-talk look, but for once she wasn’t worried that the topic would be some detail of their relationship that she didn’t want to discuss.

“You wait here,” she told the past-Spike. “Spike and I need to talk first, and then we’ll try to sort this all out.”

“Right then,” the past-Spike looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously. “I’ll just run out and grab a bite to eat then.”

It took Buffy and Spike a few seconds for his words to pierce their lust-filled brains.

“No!” they both shouted out comically at the same time when they realized what ‘grabbing a bite to eat’ actually meant.

1997-Spike paused at the door. “ ‘m hungry,” he insisted.

“No biting people!” Buffy ordered.

“There’s blood in the fridge,” Spike suggested.

“ ‘m not drinking some old, stale blood from your fridge!” past-Spike exclaimed.

“Oh yes, you are,” Buffy took a threatening step toward him. “No Happy Meals on Legs for you.”

“And you’re going to stop me?” past-Spike scoffed incredulously. “Just remember, you kill me, lover boy over there goes poof too.”

“Who said I was going to kill you?” Buffy gave him a little smile and took a hesitant step toward him.

1997-Spike felt an unneeded breath catch in his chest. He could still smell his future self’s cum on her lips, and he was having a very difficult time trying not to get turned on by this fact. His body was stubbornly protesting, its instincts immediately classifying her as ‘mate’.

She took another step toward him, her hips swaying slightly.

He found his lips suddenly very dry, and subconsciously he moistened them.

As it was, he was so distracted that he had completely forgotten about his twin until he found himself suddenly tackled to the ground.

The Slayer’s demeanor instantly changed. “You still have those chains around here?” she demanded.

“Lower level, in the bottom drawer of the dresser,” Spike informed her, struggling to keep his past self from escaping. “Hurry!” he added to her retreating form as he got a rather nasty elbow in the face.

Buffy practically fell down the ladder and quickly scrambled over to the dresser. She found what she was looking for almost immediately and ran back to the sounds of struggle overhead.

She paused briefly at the sight of the two all-too-gorgeous male bodies grappling with each other, muscles rippling… Shaking her head, she snapped one of the cuffs around evil-Spike’s right wrist.

He seemed to realize the futility of his struggles at this point and slumped sullenly in less-evil-Spike’s arms.

They got him chained up to the wall without much protest other than his constantly dragging feet. Only when he was safely secure did Buffy let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Who knew that manhandling Spike could be so much work? She was far too used to him wanting to be manhandled.

“He needs to eat,” Spike informed her from his perch atop the stone sarcophagus.

“You have extra blood?” Buffy asked.

“Not too much. I need to go to Willie’s to get more.”

She nodded. “You do that. I’ll feed him.”

“Right then,” Spike headed for the door. “Feeding time,” he informed his past self. “It’s a right fun time, that. You get lucky and you’ll get a good look down her blouse.”

“What?!” Buffy spun around to find that he had already wisely fled.

She turned back to look at the once again leering vampire tied up before her. Self-consciously she crossed her arms over her chest as her face turned bright red.

“I’ll…um…go get blood,” she hastily fled from that lustful gaze.

“Oh boy, feeding time,” her enemy’s voice called out after her.

* * *

“Oh no!” With an abrupt start, Jonathan’s eyes shot open.

“What now?” Warren sighed in exasperation. He’d quickly discovered that the most unfortunate side effect to his ever asking his co-conspirators to do anything was that they kept second-guessing it hours and even days later.

“ ‘Back to the Future’!” Jonathan exclaimed.

“It’s on now?” Andrew suddenly looked alarmed. “And we’re missing it?!”

“No,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “We’ve created our own version of ‘Back to the Future’!”

“Huh?” Andrew and Warren looked at him with identical confused looks.

“Time-travel! Spike! Bad temporal paradoxes!” he clarified.

“So…you’re saying that Spike’s mother is going to fall in love with him?” Andrew asked hesitantly.

“Of course he isn’t, you idiot!” Warren rolled his eyes. “We brought Spike forward in time, not back! So, er…what is the problem?”

“Last year when those vampires attacked the local sci-fi convention,” Jonathan said.

“Yeah?”

“Well, Spike sort of saved my life that night.”

“And?”

“If I brought him forward in time, then he won’t be there to save me,” Jonathan explained.

“Which means you’ll die,” Warren nodded.

“Which means you won’t be able to cast the spell,” Andrew began, “which means Spike won’t come forward in time, which means you’ll live, which means you’ll cast the spell, which means-”

“Shut up!” Warren and Jonathan cried out in unison.

“Wow, I’ve got a headache,” Andrew pressed his fingers to his temples.

“What we seem to have here is the ultimate temporal paradox, my friends,” Warren began.

“You said it,” Jonathan agreed.

“Which means we must consult the ultimate source on such matters,” Warren continued.

“Uh-huh,” his two companions nodded.

“To the Star Trek Encyclopedia!” they cried out in unison.

* * *

“Drink.”

“No.”

“C’mon Spike, this is getting old!”

“You can’t make me.”

“Argh!” Buffy’s hands flew up in the air in exasperation.

The past-Spike sat back against the wall, a far too cocky smile on his face.

“You are the most obnoxious, infuriating, conceded, obnoxious vampire on the planet!” she exclaimed.

“You said ‘obnoxious’ twice there, pet,” he pointed out.

“I hate you.” She gave him the Evil Glare Of Death.

“The feeling’s more than mutual, Slayer,” he gave her a lopsided smirk.

“I can just let you starve, you know,” she pointed out, trying as hard as she could not to be turned on by his deep, sensual voice. Must resist evil undead! Her mind insisted. Can have fun with not-so-evil undead when all this is over.

“You’d let me starve?” a sound of mock-hurt made its way into his tone. “After all we’ve been through together?”

“We’ve fought once,” Buffy retorted matter-of-factly.

“That and I got a good look at you and me in the cemetery earlier this evening,” he said slyly. “Got to admit I didn’t think you had it in you, Slayer.”

Buffy’s face turned a dark maroon. “You…you…saw…”

“Best wank I’ve had in a long time, too, luv,” he practically purred. “Wouldn’t mind a repeat…”

His face stung with the force of her slap.

“You…you pig!” she exclaimed, cursing herself for her lack of ingenuity. Then she remembered that this Spike hadn’t heard five years of ‘you, pig’s yet. “You complete and utter pig!” she stuck by her earlier assessment.

“Oink, oink,” he smiled, completely unperturbed by her rage. “C’mon, Slayer. Take it off.” He indicated one of the twin dusters that she’d wrapped tightly around herself to keep him from enjoying feeding time a bit too much.

She wound up to explode at him again, but then decided she was too weary. “If I take it off, will you eat?” she said tiredly.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, luv,” he nodded.

Buffy sighed and threw the duster back over onto the chair with its twin. She held up the mug of warmed blood before him.

“Just a bit more,” he pressed her.

Without thinking, she unfastened the top two buttons of her low-cut pale blue sweater, giving him a good look at her cleavage.

“That’s as much as you’re getting,” she informed him, thrusting the mug into his face.

He nodded and began to drink, his eyes never leaving her newly exposed flesh. Buffy noticed an all-too-familiar bulge growing at the front of his jeans. She knew she should be disgusted. After all, this wasn’t even the somewhat-decent Spike who loved her. This Spike was pure, unashamed vampire. She really should be revolted.

So why wasn’t she feeling anything much beyond her own arousal and intense feminine satisfaction at the fact that she could affect him so even before he loved her?

She was a sick, sick person. It was the only explanation.

Well, if you’re already that warped, the bad, Spike-lusting part of her brain set in, you might as well have fun while you’re at it…

She pulled the mug from his lips as he finished. His crystal blue gaze moved upward to meet hers. Their eyes locked. And then Buffy noticed a small trickle of blood escaping down the side of his mouth. That blood just needed to be cleaned off…

Her head moved of its own accord until her lips were right over the small trail. His eyes shut tight, and he breathed in her heady scent. Her tongue traced her own lips before reaching out…

And the door of the crypt flung open.

Buffy leapt backward as if burned, her skin turning bright red from her forehead right down to her heaving breasts.

“Get him to eat?” Spike said as he headed over to the refrigerator to store the blood he had just bought.

“Uh…yeah,” she gulped when she realized what had almost happened. This is getting ridiculous! Her brain tsked at her. Now you’re worried about Spike catching you with himself!

Unfortunately, Spike knew her far too well to miss the desperate tone in her voice. One look at her rapid breathing and the dazed look on his twin’s face was enough for him to piece together what he’d just broken up.

“We need to talk,” he repeated his sentiments from earlier, a slight growl entering his voice at the thought of his woman with anyone else…even another version of himself.

“Er…um…” She didn’t have time to get out much more than that before he caught her firmly by the wrist and practically dragged her down to the lower level of his crypt.

“Oh sure!” 1997-Spike called out after them. “Let me get her all worked up so that you can reap the benefits!”

Chapter Four

“You cannot trust him!” Spike grabbed her firmly by the shoulders once they’d reached his underground bedroom.

“I-I know that,” Buffy insisted. “It’s just…”

“He wants to kill you,” Spike continued. “All you are to him is Slayer #3. Sure, some of his killing fantasies involve screwing you into the ground first, but-” He stopped abruptly when he realized that he’d let a little secret slip.

“You wanted me even back then?” she asked cautiously, raising one hand to his chin and forcing him to look into her eyes.

“You saw his reaction to you,” he shrugged nervously. “You’d better bloody well believe I wanted you.”

“You’re…” she began.

“A pig,” he finished for her. “I know.”

“Actually, I was going to say ‘kinda cute’,” she retorted. “But ‘pig’ will do.”

“Cute?” he looked into her eyes hopefully. “You think I’m cute?” He suddenly switched his tone. “Not that I want to be cute. In fact, ‘cute’? Hah! Nothin’ cute about me, pet…”

His macho bravado probably could have gone on all night if she hadn’t stopped him with her lips. Her tongue roughly demanded entry into his mouth, and its request was instantly granted. They desperately explored each other with tongues and hands, Buffy crying out in relief as he finally touched her and Spike reasserting his claim upon her.

“Spike…” she whispered as she tore her lips from his to take in erratic gasps of air.

“Yes, luv?” He was breathing heavily too, for no reason but force of habit.

“I need you, Spike,” she pulled his body closer to her, feeling his hardness press against her stomach. “I need you to touch me…”

A low moan escaped his throat at her words, and he caught her up in his arms. Her legs latched around his waist and her mouth gently traced the tenderest spots on his throat as he half-staggered over to the bed.

As usual, he missed.

They collapsed to the floor in a tangle of frantic limbs. Clawing wildly, they managed to rip each other’s clothes off. Spike’s shirt and jeans managed to make their ways to opposite sides of the room. Buffy’s bra - now ruined like so many others - fell atop the one lamp lit in the room, covering up the light source and dimming the surroundings to twilight.

The pair on the floor remained completely oblivious to the change in atmosphere as they rolled about, each trying to pin the other down. After several minutes of this wrestling - interspersed with long, hard kisses - they finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Buffy let herself fall back and watched with lazy, lust-filled eyes as the demon settled himself comfortably between her thighs. She reached up to pull him down to her, stealing a last frantic kiss.

As their lips broke apart, he plunged into her depths, his eyes rolling up at the heat that burned him from all sides.

Buffy cried out as she was stretched in every way imaginable. She tangled her fingers in his white locks, twisting the fine silk gently.

“Cor, you’re beautiful, luv,” he whispered huskily into her ear. “So tight… So good…”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she ran her nails up and down his back as he began thrusting in and out of her slowly in the rhythm of the ages.

He began angling himself, pushing deeper within her with every stroke. He was now pounding against the opening to her womb, hitting her most sensitive spot each time.

“Oh, Spike!” She cried out his name each time he thrust into her. The truth was, no one had ever fit her this well before. No one had ever filled her so completely. “Faster! Please!”

He instantly complied with her pleas, not able to hold back himself anymore. Their hips ground together with superhuman strength and speed, the fire between them burning hotter and hotter… His hands were everywhere, instinctively knowing exactly where to touch her to give her the most pleasure. His forehead rested in the crook of her neck, his tongue lightly tracing over her collarbone. Soft hisses and purrs escaped his lips, and she could feel nothing but sexual pride at the fact that she had completely worn away his usual verbosity.

Her fingers twined into his hair, savoring the soft, snowy locks. She explored his shoulder blades, then moved down his back, feeling his muscles tense and flex beneath her touch and he continued to pound into her.

“You’re perfect,” she told him, and at that moment it was true to her.

His head rose so that his eyes could meet hers. His were almost black by now, but that secret devotion buried deep within the burning fire was still visible.

He kept his eyes locked firmly with hers as his hips miraculously managed to force their way even deeper within her.

She was trapped, captured, completely and hopelessly his…

“Mine,” he growled with his strongest, deepest thrust yet.

Buffy cried out as the waves of pleasure fully crashed over her. She clutched him tightly to her, holding on for dear life…

He shut his eyes tight at the feel of her inner muscles pumping him for everything he had. “Love you so much…” he managed to exclaim before his balls clenched and his chilled seed flooded deep inside her…

When Buffy finally came to, she found herself trapped fully under the weight of a limp vampire…well, at least his limbs were limp. Other parts of him were as rock-hard as ever. And still inside her. Not good.

“Oh, shit!” she exclaimed, pushing him off of her.

He mumbled a tired complaint as he was forced out of her, and she escaped his touch.

“Buffy-luv?” he asked, barely daring to open his eyes.

She was scrambling about the room, frantically trying to reassemble her wardrobe.

“Buffy, stop it!” he demanded when she cried out in frustration at her tattered bra.

“I have to go!” she insisted, slipping her skirt on. Apparently, her panties had vanished.

“No, you don’t,” he pleaded. “Please, can’t we just talk-”

“No talking. Talking bad.”

“Buffy, be reasonable!”

“I am being reasonable!” she snapped at him. “This is wrong. It has to stop.”

His own anger flared. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe this keeps happening for a reason?” he retorted. “That maybe we can’t stop ourselves because it’s not wrong? Because it’s right?”

“I’m the Slayer,” she said firmly. “And I can’t do this.” And with that, she fled.

“Jesus, you two make enough noise?” the past-Spike called out to her from his place still chained against the wall upstairs when she flew by. “Have some sympathy for those listening.”

“Shut up, Spike,” she gave him a cold look before slamming the crypt door shut behind her.

1997-Spike blinked at her abrupt departure confusedly for a few seconds before turning his attention to the trapdoor leading below.

“Oy! You still down there? Or’d she stake you?” he called down.

His future self came up a few seconds later, clad in nothing but his jeans. He had the world’s most frustrated expression on his face.

“This happens often, does it?” 1997-Spike watched the preparation of yet another glass of bourbon and blood.

“All the time,” 2002-Spike said before downing the entire glass in one gulp.

* * *

“I don’t believe it, man,” Andrew said, dropping the treasured tome on the cluttered desk.

“Who knew Star Trek could be so…inconsistent?” Jonathan sighed.

“I’m so disillusioned,” Andrew replied solemnly.

“Get a grip, you two,” Warren commanded. “We’ll just have to look somewhere else.”

“Maybe we should just undo the spell before existence as we know it has a chance to vanish,” Jonathan suggested.

“Hey!” Andrew suddenly exclaimed. “Things haven’t changed!”

“Yeah?” Warren and Jonathan turned to him.

“Well, wouldn’t they have changed instantly if we’d really fouled everything up?” he asked.

“Hey, yeah…” Warren said.

“Unless they already changed, and no one’s aware of it,” Jonathan pointed out.

The other two looked at him, annoyed.

“I do have some experience in this area,” he defended himself.

“Or maybe we’re going to fix everything in the future, so the past hasn’t really changed, because of what we’re doing in the present!” Andrew added his own two cents.

Warren and Jonathan’s heads started to hurt.

“Let’s just find a way to reverse that spell,” Warren said wearily. “And if he hasn’t managed to kill her in two days, then we’ll send him back…”

* * *

“Problem with the Slayer,” Spike’s speech slurred as he started to get into his topic, “is that she’s so bloody stuck-up. Thinks she’s too good for me, she does. Doesn’t see that ‘m the only one that’ll have her…love her like she wants to be loved…”

“What is the deal with that, anyway?” his past self demanded. “I mean, she’s the Slayer! Couldn’t you’ve found someone else to turn to after Dru left?” He flinched slightly at the horrible hint of things to come.

“Tried,” present-Spike retorted. “Tried to kill her, tried to hate her… Tried so hard not to love her.”

“What can you possibly see in her?” his 1997 counterpart asked in bewilderment. “Sure, she’s hot an’ all, but…”

“You don’t know her,” his captor retorted. “Well, actually…” he thought about it for a little while, “you do know her pretty well. But not as well as you will…er, I will…I mean, I do…I mean…” The complexities of time-travel were definitely not something her could handle while drunk.

“No, I guess not,” he rolled his eyes at his future self’s inebriated state. “All I know is that the woman you claim to love just ran out of here for no apparent reason, leaving you all by your lonesome. Seems like a great relationship, that.”

“Oh, like you’re so much better off with Dru,” 2002-Spike retorted.

“Things between me an’ Dru are great,” the past vampire retorted. “Never better.”

“Just you wait,” present-day-Spike pulled out a cigarette from his pack and offered it to himself. “Your days together are numbered.”

The past Spike caught the smoke and took a drag once his future self lit it. “Thanks ever so for messing it up with Dru,” he scowled.

“Wasn’t my fault!” 2002-Spike insisted, lighting his own cigarette. “I did everything in my power to keep ‘er.”

“It really didn’t work out?” 1997-Spike asked anxiously. “Damn,” he leaned back and closed his eyes when his twin shook his head negative.

“An’ it’s not working much better with the Slayer,” present-Spike joined the depression.

“Tha’s just ‘cause she has no sense of fun,” his past self reassured him. “Too caught up bein’ holier-than-thou.”

“You said it.”

“She needs to let loose.”

“Been there, done that. Trashed an entire building.”

Past-Spike raised a scarred eyebrow.

“That was a great night,” his companion informed him. “Something to look forward to…”

“Yeah…”

“The problem is,” Buffy’s Spike began his tirade anew, “she still thinks I’m evil. No matter what I do. I do something bad, it’s because it’s my nature. I do something good, it’s just because ‘m trying to impress her.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No! Well…yes, but that’s not all there is to it!” present-Spike clarified. “I wanted to I could turn her any day. Force her to be mine. But I don’t, because I don’t want to, and I don’t want to hurt her or the Nibblet or even the damn Scoobies!”

“Whipped,” his companion repeated.

“You better bloody well believe it!” Spike sighed in exasperation. “She just doesn’t get it. I’ve changed! I’m not you anymore!”

“Well then maybe what she needs is an A-B comparison.”

“What do you have in mind?” Spike frowned suspiciously.

“Unchain me, and I’ll tell you…”

* * *

“Higuyslongnightgoingtobednowbye!”

Buffy managed to get out that entire litany in one breath as she flew by Dawn and Willow in the kitchen. She ran up the stairs and slammed the door behind her before either had a chance to speak.

Safe now, her mind informed her happily. No questions, no lying, no gorgeous undead temptations that feel so good inside you that all you want to do is stay wrapped in his arms forever…

Oh shit. It was starting already.

“Not fair,” Buffy mumbled into her pillow as she collapsed face-first onto her bed. “I just had him! The fantasies can’t come back this quickly!”

Her sex-drive wasn’t cooperating with her conscious mind’s reasonable argument, however.

Images flashed through her mind: his hands roaming over her burning flesh, that cool tongue lapping gently at her throat, shinning blue eyes looking straight into hers with such love…promising her everything if she would just give him the chance…

And then there was the feel of him inside of her.

Buffy’s hand moved under her skirt of its own volition. Her walls were still stretched from his latest invasion, and the remnants of their combined juices were still sticky against her thigh. She fingered her swollen clit roughly, all the while picturing his hand stimulating her, that beautiful body poised above her…so tantalizing…so beautiful…

“Sooo need him again,” she despaired aloud.

No! The responsible Slayer part of her mind ordered. He’s evil. It’s wrong. It’s sick. You’re using him, and it has to stop. Because you don’t love him. You can’t love him! I forbid it! Evil, bad, bad vampire!

“Mmmm…such a bad vampire…” Three of her fingers were now thrusting into her still slick passage roughly. They could never hope to imitate his size, of course, but she needed something. Her other hand played lazily with her swollen nipple as she closed her eyes and replayed his every touch in her head.

“So bad…” she hissed as she fell over the edge. “So good…”

She lay back against the pillows for several minutes, staring dazedly up at the phantom vampire above her.

“Oh shit!” she repeated her mantra after a while, once she’d realized what she’d done.

Wrong, evil, bad, can’t happen again, won’t happen again, don’t need him, can’t need him, won’t love him…

“Must sleep,” she told herself. “No thoughts; just sleep.”

She curled up on her side, clutching the pillow beside her around the middle. And if her conscious mind had still been available, it would have protested that that pillow looked in her mind’s eye suspiciously like a certain bleached blond and completely forbidden vampire…

Double Spiked (continued)

Chapter Five

Buffy trudged her way up the stairs. Her first day at the Doublemeat Palace had been anything but fun… Hideous costume, bland customers, and filthy grease… The smell still clung to her, and she decided she couldn’t put up with it a second longer.

She stripped the instant she got into the bathroom, scattering her clothes about the floor, and eagerly stepped under the hot spray. The steamy water pounded over her stiff muscles, releasing the tension that had gathered there. She let out a contented sigh.

She scrubbed at her hair a good three times just to be sure she got all the doublemeat sludge out before soaping up a sponge and cleaning her entire body from head to toe. Tingles of life were returning to her limbs now, reminding her that there were things beyond her crappy new job.

She stood under the water for several long minutes, rinsing herself clean and…well, stalling.

Because the instant she got out of the shower, her slaying duties started, and then she had to worry about not one, but two, gorgeous oh-so-tempting vampires. She still couldn’t believe she’d almost kissed the evil Spike. Kissing the good one was bad enough, but…

But he had been so beautiful.

One hand gently rubbed over her breasts - just rinsing, she assured herself - before it lightly began to finger one nipple. It was too hot, she decided, and she turned the water down so that it was cool…just like his skin…

Her clit was practically aching by now. She figured one quick twist couldn’t hurt things. It didn’t. In fact, it felt sooo good. Her thumb flicked the hard nub of flesh back and forth while her other hand continued to massage her swollen breasts.

She leaned her forehead against the cold tile of the shower wall and closed her eyes. It was hard and slick with water, and she could imagine that it was a strong alabaster chest…that the water-cooled finger that was now tracing her opening was his…that it was him that was now inside of her…

She moaned and began to thrust up and down on two of her fingers. Soon a third joined it, stretching her and filling her…but not enough. It was never enough. Only one thing could truly satisfy her.

You have to go see him anyway, her sex drive insisted. You might as well kill two birds with one stone…

“Yes!” Buffy cried out as her hand finally succeeded in stimulating a small orgasm from her. “Have to see him anyway…” she repeated.

In record time, she’d re-washed the certain regions of her anatomy that needed it, dried her hair, and slipped into an appropriate slaying costume… OK, so maybe the skirt was a bit too short and tight for high kicks…and her leather boots had heels so high it would be practically impossible to run…and she was practically falling out of the front of her blouse… She was confident that a certain sexy blond vampire wouldn’t have any objections to her wardrobe, though.

She eagerly made her way down the stairs, already playing possible scenarios for the evening through her mind and wondering if it was at all possible to carry whipped cream with her while slaying without giving herself horribly away…

And ran straight into Dawn in the kitchen.

“Woah!” Dawn’s eyes widened at her sister’s outfit. “Hot date?” she inquired.

Buffy’s face turned beet red. “Oh, no,” she insisted. “Just slaying…”

“Then why are you…?” Dawn gesticulated at the outfit.

“Well, I’m…bait tonight!” Buffy sighed aloud in relief when she found a reasonable excuse. “Y’know, luring horny vamps out of the Bronze.”

“Uh-huh.” Dawn looked anything but convinced. However, she dropped the subject and turned back to her sundae.

Buffy eyed the chocolate-covered mass with suspicion. “That’s not your dinner, is it?” she demanded in a very maternal way.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “No,” she said in the world’s best example of The Sullen Teenager Voice, “this is dessert, duh…” At that moment she took a big spoonful of vanilla ice cream and hot fudge and swallowed it whole, some of the ice cream escaping the side of her mouth and trickling down her cheek.

“Ugh,” Buffy said, “what, were you raised in a barn? You never heard of a napkin?”

Dawn wiped away the ice cream with guilty pleasure. “You want some?” she asked.

“No thanks,” Buffy said. “Do you have any idea how bad that is for you?”

“But it tastes sooo good,” Dawn retorted. “You know what the best part is?”

“What?”

“The temperature,” Dawn sighed as she took another bite. “The way the hot and cold blend together on your tongue. You taste first one and then the other, and pretty soon they’ve both mixed together and it’s an entirely new flavor, better than either were separately, all smooth and creamy…”

Buffy was drooling. And her thoughts were on anything but ice cream.

“Sure you don’t want to get some?” Dawn asked.

“Yes, yes, I do,” Buffy said numbly and walked right out the door.

Dawn shook her head in confusion. “What’s up with her?” she wondered before returning to the innocent pastime of enjoying her ice cream.

* * *

“Aha!” Andrew exclaimed in delight.

“What?” Jonathan ran over. “Did you find the counterspell?”

“Nope,” Andrew said proudly, “but I did manage to download the entire Star Wars porn library for free!”

“You found a way in the back door?” Warren asked excitedly.

“Oh yeah,” Andrew said enthusiastically. “It was simple really. I just-”

“Guys!” Jonathan interrupted them. “Can we get back to more important matters?”

“Yeah,” Warren smacked Andrew upside the head. “Make with the nude Queen Amidala.”

“But I wanted to see Princess Leia first,” Andrew whined.

“Amidala now,” Warren ordered him. “Leia later.”

“Fine,” Andrew huffed.

“But, guys!” Jonathan protested. “What about…” the picture appeared on the screen “…nude Queen Amidala…”

“Gentlemen,” Warren said, their most important task clear, “to the printer!”

* * *

Buffy made her way quickly to Sunnydale Cemetery, her high-heeled boots clicking on the pavement behind her. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind what she wanted at that moment:

“…hot and cold blend together on your tongue.”

“…all smooth and creamy…”

If she had put on any panties, they would have been drenched.

“Slayer’s gotta get some,” she whispered to herself, making her way confidently over to the familiar crypt.

“Lookin’ for me, pet?” a voice suddenly broke the still of the cemetery.

Buffy spun about to see Spike lounging against a nearby tombstone, lit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Jump him! Now! Her mind screamed.

She walked over to him, placing one leather boot in front of the other, swaying her hips suggestively.

“All dressed up, I see,” Spike continued to smoke, perusing her leisurely. “My counterpart should appreciate it…”

“You’re-”

“The Big Bad Spike,” he gave her an evil leer. “Up for a good tussle, Slayer?”

Bad Spike, her rational mind said. Must overpower, capture, take back to lair, and tie up. Must not fuck into the ground with every bit of strength I have. Must fight, must not kiss, must not… Ach! What are you doing?!

Her saunter had stopped when he had announced his identity, but now it began anew. “ ‘Big Bad’, huh?” she asked as she came to a stop right in front of him. “Just how big,” one finger traced down the center of his chest, “and how bad?” She hiked up her skirt so that she could straddle his lap.

“Guess that’s a ‘yes’ to my question then?” he raised one scarred eyebrow at her curiously. “I must say, Slayer, you’ve got it pretty bad to-”

“God, don’t you know how to shut up?!” she cut him off. “Just keep your mouth shut and fuck me!”

With that, she caught his lips with hers, her fingers sliding around his neck and up into his hair. He responded in full, grinding her hips down onto his erection and plunging his tongue deep into her mouth.

“Cor,” he moaned, “you’re even hotter than he said…”

Buffy whimpered as he caught her by the waist and lifted her off of him. “Please…” she begged. “I need-”

The breath was abruptly knocked from her lungs when he spun her around and threw her into the gravestone he had been sitting on stomach first. Before she even had time to react, he’d caught her hands behind her and pinned them at the small of her back.

“Spike?” she asked warily from her position bent over the cold stone slab.

“It’s your turn to shut up now, Slayer,” he hissed.

For one second she was confident that he was going to kill her. Panic entered her for a second before she heard a sound that set her body ablaze all over again. It was the sweetest sound in the world at the moment: the sound of his zipper being undone.

She squirmed eagerly as he roughly tugged her skirt up to around her waist, and then… Oh wonderful relief! He thrust into her hard and deep, his eyelids squeezing shut as her slick passage molded to his contours.

“Oh Christ, Slayer!” he moaned aloud, pumping in and out of her as fast and hard as he could.

“Yes! Spike!” she cried out, grinding her own hips back to meet his. It was rather awkward from her position, but she managed just fine. “More! Deeper! Faster! Please!”

“So good! So hot! Can’t take much more! You’re- Oh god!” he shouted as her Slayer muscles clenched him for the first time.

Her clit was grinding against the stone with his every thrust now, sending her screaming over the edge. “Oh god, Spike!” she called out his name before the pleasure finally overcame her, and the world went black.

He let out a feral roar when her internal muscles milked him fast and furious, and he came harder than he had ever remembered.

“Oh god, luv,” he whimpered, collapsing on top of her and still seeing stars.

It seemed like hours later that he was finally able to lift himself off of her leather-clad body. He noticed with an amused and satisfied smirk that she was still passed out from her orgasm.

“’m startin’ to see what he sees in you, pet,” he informed her unconscious back before reluctantly pulling out of her. His cock was twitching slightly, in danger of springing back to life, and he tucked it back into his pants before he was tempted to have another go.

He debated leaving her like that, draped over the grave with her hot, wet hole open and available to anybody who happened to walk by and wanted to partake… But, no, his future self wanted to lay claim to her, and it would be counterproductive to interfere with his own future wishes. He didn’t take a taste of her neck for the same reason.

Instead, he lowered her skirt until it covered up the traces of their combined juices and caught her up in his arms. He marveled for an instant that such a tiny human could have such strength, such heat… He shook the thought from his head and settled her neatly down in front of the gravestone. She should awaken soon.

And with one parting kiss, he vanished into the night…

* * *

“See, I told you Carrie Fisher ruled supreme!” Andrew said triumphantly.

“I still say those were fake,” Jonathan insisted.

“They just stuck Pamela Lee’s body on Carrie Fisher’s head,” Warren agreed. “Natalie Portman is still the best.”

“I don’t believe this!” Andrew exclaimed. “Episode One was sacrilege!”

“True,” Warren agreed, “but that doesn’t detract from how hot Natalie Portman is.”

Andrew looked to Jonathan for support.

“Sorry, man, he’s right,” Jonathan shook his head at Andrew. “Natalie Portman is still the Star Wars goddess.”

“Fine!” Andrew sighed. “I’m sick of fighting about it. But we still keep the Leia pictures.”

“Of course!” Jonathan and Warren exclaimed simultaneously, horrified at the notion of losing any of their precious porn collection.

“So, now that that’s settled,” Warren rubbed his hands together, “it’s back to taking over the world.”

“So…um, what were we doing?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, “I know it was something important…”

“But what?”

* * *

Buffy groaned and stretched as she finally came to. Every cell of her body felt warm and content at that moment. She sleepily opened her eyes and giggled at the name on the gravestone beside her.

Somehow she thought that Sister Monica DeVries would not approve of the activities that had taken place on her memorial tonight.

Oh god!

The giddiness left her in an instant. She had just fucked Spike. Not good, tender, loving Spike, but evil, homicidal, monster Spike. She clenched at the ground and gasped for breath, her mind reeling from the concept.

She hadn’t even put up a fight. She’d just lain down and enjoyed herself while her archenemy had his way with her.

What was she supposed to do now? There was no way he wouldn’t torment her past self with that fact, and she was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be able to take it back in his time.

That was something to worry about later. Now was the time to worry about her present self.

She’d just fucked a demon.

An evil, soulless, murderous demon.

He was probably out there killing someone right now.

And she’d enjoyed herself.

Every last second of it.

* * *

“Well?” 2002-Spike grimaced as his past self entered his crypt reeking of the Slayer’s juices.

“Everything went accordin’ to plan,” 1997-Spike said, taking his silver lighter from his duster pocket and lighting up his cigarette. He breathed out a long, steady stream of smoke.

“You didn’t have any difficulties?” 2002-Spike asked.

“None at all.”

“And she knew it was you?”

“’Course, she knew it me,” 1997-Spike said irritably. “Wouldn’t’ve worked if she didn’t now, would it?”

“I should’ve been the one to do it,” 2002-Spike said soberly. “Could’ve pretended I was you…”

“You couldn’t an’ you know it,” his past self explained for the umpteenth time. “What she needed was a good, hard rut. No love. Your eyes would’ve given you away in an instant.”

“S’pose so,” the present vampire laid back and sighed. “She’s all right, then?”

Past-Spike rolled his eyes. “She’ll be fine…once she figures it out.”

“Which won’t be till tomorrow at the earliest.”

“So, just sit back till then, mate,” 1997-Spike advised. “Watch some telly or somethin’.”

“Easy for you to say,” 2002-Spike scowled. “You got a piece o’ Slayer action tonight while I ‘ad to sit here listenin’.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” the vampire from the past sighed and collapsed in an armchair.

“You all right, mate?” his future self asked. “You look a bit knackered.”

His companion didn’t reply for a long time.

“I want to ask a favor of you,” he finally said after a great deal of thought.

“Oh?”

“I want another go at the Slayer,” he said soberly.

His future self let out a whoop of laughter.

1997-Spike gave him a curious look. This hadn’t exactly been the reaction he’d been expecting. Maybe a punch in the face or something…

“Can’t get ‘er out of your system, huh?” 2002-Spike’s laughter abruptly stopped.

“No,” the past vampire sulked. “You got any whiskey?”

“Lots.” He tossed the nearest bottle to his companion and grabbed another for himself.

“Think this’ll last till tomorrow night?”

“It’ll last you in any case,” 2002-Spike ran his hand lightly over the bulge at the front of his jeans and moaned.

“Hey, mate, want to test out a theory?” his past self eyed his actions speculatively.

“What’s that?”

“Angelus always did say we were the best cock-sucker in the world,” 1997-Spike shrugged. “’m willing to give it a go ‘f you are.”

His future self gave him an odd look and then shrugged as well. “Why not?” he agreed. “What else ‘ve I got to do? B’sides, you’re a right attractive bloke.”

“Pictures don’t do us justice,” his past counterpart agreed. “Hell, the Slayer should’ve fallen into your lap long ago…”

“Yeah, well, guess ‘ll just have to settle for you instead…”

Chapter Six

Groaning, Buffy awoke from her deep, dark sleep. She’d had a wonderfully dreamless night brought on from pure physical exhaustion, and it was quite a relief.

It meant that she hadn’t had to think about what had happened last night.

She froze as the memories of exactly why she was so tired came back into her mind. Evil Spike was loose. He had been out last night, and who knew what he had done while she was busy feeling confused and guilty. He could have killed innocents…he could have killed his captor!

Buffy sat bolt upright in her bed.

Oh god! That thought hadn’t even occurred to her before. For evil Spike to have escaped, he must have somehow overpowered good Spike. Her outright panic faded when she realized that not even Spike was brashly impulsive enough to kill himself, but that didn’t eliminate lots of other unpleasant possibilities. The Spike from the past didn’t seem too thrilled about the way her Spike acted. And he wasn’t beyond torturing himself…

Buffy felt suddenly sick when she remembered her own comments to Spike from that night in the abandoned building. “You’re in love with pain…” Surely, she hadn’t been right, hadn’t she? He wouldn’t have really hurt his future self, would he?

She got dressed in record time, images of her Spike bleeding in agony flashing through her mind.

“Hey, Buffy, you’re awfully eager for work-” Willow began but was abruptly cut off.

“Have to do something first. Bye, Will! Bye, Dawnie!” Buffy flew through the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her.

In less than five minutes she was outside the door to Spike’s crypt, hands shaking. Her first thought was that her worries were ridiculous: she would open the door, and he would be all right…and then he would be able to smell what she had done last night…

Buffy’s face paled. She couldn’t face him, not after she’d cheated on him with his past self.

Cheated on him?! Her rational mind scoffed at her inner monologue’s choice of words. He’s nothing to you, remember? You don’t owe him anything…certainly not your loyalty. There’s nothing there to cheat on…

Another part of her feared his fury. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t take this too kindly. He had a rare tendency among vampires towards monogamy, and even if they weren’t technically ‘together’, he would probably go ballistic when he found out. And she hoped to god he had the common sense not to kill his past self…

Of course, all this was moot if he was dead or beaten to a bloody pulp…

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the crypt and stepped inside, making sure that the sunlight didn’t peep in as she did so. The first thing she noticed was that the room was empty…including the chains on the wall that had held past-Spike. The room didn’t look torn up, though. Maybe past-Spike had just escaped, and her Spike was OK…

“Spike?” she asked warily.

She heard some rustling and mutters from downstairs and cautiously walked over to the opening.

“Spike, are you down there?” she repeated.

“Er…yeah, jus’ give me a second, luv,” his voice echoed through the cavern below.

“Are you all right?” She didn’t bother with the ladder and leapt down into the hole. When she stood up, she was faced with a very naked Spike sitting up sleepily in bed.

“Fine, pet,” a concerned and confused look crossed over his features. “Is something wrong?” he demanded.

One look in his eyes was all it took for Buffy to realize that this was, indeed, her Spike. “Oh, thank god!” she sobbed and threw herself into his arms.

“Buffy, what happened?” he asked, holding her tightly to him. “’s not the Nibblet, is it? Or one of the others?”

She shook her head and nestled it deeper into his shoulder. “I-I thought you were dead, or hurt, or-or…” She clutched him to her with renewed relief.

Spike couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d suddenly announced the giant bunnies the Demon-Girl kept going on about had finally invaded Sunnydale. “Hush now,” he soothed her, gently stroking her hair while she cried onto his shoulder. “’m all right. No Big Bad’s ‘ve gotten ahold of me, if that’s what you’re worried about…”

“Spike,” she whispered.

“What?”

“No, Spike,” she repeated. “I thought Spike had gotten you. He-he was out last night, and I just realized this morning that he…that you… Oh god, I was so worried!” She gave him a hug that would have crushed the ribs of a weaker being.

“You were…worried?” he still couldn’t believe it. “About me?”

“Yeah, so?” she sniffed slightly and put on her best defensive expression when she looked at him.

“Nothing,” he ran one hand through his hair bashfully and turned his gaze away from hers. “I just… I would’ve told you I was all right, if I’d thought you would worry…”

“It’s OK,” Buffy said, stroking his cheek lightly. “I’m just glad you’re fine. But you should have told me the instant he escaped.”

“I…” He seemed at a loss for words.

“Spike…” she said nervously, pulling slightly away from him. “I-I have something to tell you…”

“Oh?” He didn’t like the look in her eyes. It was the look she got before she told him something terrible. Mentally, he braced himself.

“L-Last night… I…ran into him, and we…we…” she gesticulated wildly, unable to say it or look at him.

“What?” Spike cocked his head to one side. “You went a round with ‘im?”

Her face turned bright crimson. “Well…yeah,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to,” she quickly clarified. “And I’m sooo sorry! It was…it was you I wanted.” This last part was muttered under her breath, but his vampiric hearing allowed him to make out every word.

“There’s no need to be sorry, luv,” he said in surprise. “It was me you were with, after all. An’ it’s not like I really have the right to lay claim to you anyway.”

He had tried to hide the bitterness in his voice at this last statement, but Buffy knew him too well not to hear it.

“You’re the only one in my life right now,” she informed him. “I figure you’ve at least earned the right for me to be honest with you.”

“Really?”

She would have sworn those were tears in his eyes. God, was she actually so horrible to this man that just telling him the truth about whether or not she was cheating on him brought him tears of happiness? An odd feeling of guilt began to settle over her at the way she had been treating him of late.

“Shh…” She brought her fingers to his lips and silenced him. “Of course you have. And don’t worry about anything. We can take care of your evil twin this evening, and everything will be all right again.” She gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting off the bed.

“You’re leaving then, huh?” he said disappointedly.

“I have to go to work soon,” she explained, giving him a small smile. “But I’ll be back at sundown, OK?”

“OK,” he sighed and let her scent wash over him.

“You take care of yourself, and get some sleep,” she said sternly before climbing up the ladder.

“You too, Slayer…”

A wide grin spread across his face when he heard her leave.

“She was worried about me!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, yeah, heard ‘t all,” his past self crawled out from under the bed. “Y’know you could’ve warned me in advance so I could find a better place to hide…” He flopped down on the mattress naked beside his future self.

“I-I didn’t know she’d come…” 2002-Spike still had the world’s most idiotic grin on his face. “I didn’t think she cared…”

“Yeah, well, she does.” 1997-Spike reached across his twin’s body and fetched the pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. “Wonders never cease, huh?” he asked disinterestedly as he lit up.

2002-Spike lay back and sighed contentedly. “She cares about me…” he smiled dazedly.

“Told you she just needed to see your better qualities brought out,” his past self said smugly. “And by this evening…”

“Mmm…this evening,” present-Spike was already falling back to sleep. “This evening…”

1997-Spike didn’t need to share the same thought patterns as the other vamp to know exactly what he was dreaming about.

“So long as you don’t blow it, mate,” he added, before snuffing out his cigarette and joining his counterpart in pleasant dreams of a naked Slayer…

* * *

Buffy absentmindedly flipped the burgers on the grill and hit the timer again. While she sat there waiting, she replayed the events of this morning and the night before over again in her mind.

The night before had been… She had been desperate, she finally decided. She’d needed him so badly that she didn’t even care if she got hold of the wrong Spike. She’d just needed him to touch her.

And he had touched her all right. She couldn’t deny that the sex had been mind-blowing. Hell, she’d even passed out from the intensity of it.

It was the waking up part that was the problem. She’d had just as incredible sessions with her Spike, but then when she woke up, he would be there, holding her close and telling her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her and… Well, to be perfectly honest she usually freaked out at about this point and either found a way to shut him up or ran for it.

So, why hadn’t she been happier to discover that he was just gone the night before?

First, there was the whole creepiness factor about being left alone in a cemetery at night. Anything could have come across her while she was unconscious. And then there was the cold. She wouldn’t have objected to warm arms holding her tight then - even if they had stolen their warmth from her body. And then she had felt so very alone. Unpleasant memories of Angel and Parker flashed through her mind as some of the top ten reasons she did not like to wake up alone. But waking up alone was better than waking up next to Spike, right? Right?

The resounding ‘yes’ that she had come to expect was conspicuously absent. The truth was she had missed him. Sure, their morning afters tended to explode into open hostility, but there was something…comforting about knowing that he would always be beside her. Always.

The word shook her a bit. She’d been dimly aware up to this point that Spike would never leave her, not like the others. In a way, she’d been testing his resolve in their relationship, and he hadn’t faltered once. She hadn’t gotten a single ‘you’re a Slayer and I’m a vampire, so this’ll never work’ or ‘wasn’t that fun, now let’s be on our merry ways’ or ‘commit your entire life to me right now, or I’m leaving’ speech.

In fact, he really hadn’t demanded anything from her at all. He tried to persuade her not to leave him, of course, but he never held it against her when she didn’t stay. And she’d never even bothered to come up with a reasonable excuse before…until this morning, that is.

Thoughts of that morning sent strange tingles up and down her spine. Something had been different between them that morning. Something had changed… No, it was her. She had changed.

In that instant of fear and relief, she’d completely dropped the disinterested persona she always wore around him. And after the way she’d cried, not even she could deny that she felt something for him. Just how strong those feelings were was another matter.

But for a few minutes, she’d just stopped worrying about it and held him like a lover. And he hadn’t turned it against her in the slightest. She’d always been a bit afraid that if she ever admitted her feelings for him, that insufferably arrogant part of him would kick in and make her miserable about it. But she’d involuntarily faced that fear this morning, and he had been nothing but kind and sweet and loving…

And even the memory of their impromptu embrace had her on the verge of swooning. The way those strong arms had held her… The gentle caresses of his hands… The feel of powerful muscle under smooth skin… The silk of his hair… The musk of his scent… The rough but soothing tone of his voice…

And then the way his lips had felt against hers, cool and soft and sweet and tender…

“Buffy!”

The sound of her name snapped her out of her reverie.

“Jeez, the buzzer’s been going off for, like, ten seconds!” her greasy companion at the grills informed her.

Buffy hastily muttered her apologies and removed the burgers from the grill. She deliberately shook her mind back to less distracting matters when she put on the next batch. After all, nothing was more embarrassing than messing up something as simple as fast food.

But she would get through this day, even if the seconds crawled by like snails.

Because tonight she had something to look forward to…

* * *

“Pull up! Pull up!” Jonathan screamed. “We’re on fire!”

“Well, do something!” Warren yelled. “Put it out!”

“Oh shit!” Andrew cried out. “Guys, I think we’re in trouble…”

They all stared ahead in horror as the alien ship rose in front of them.

“Quick, fire at them!” Warren screamed, hitting the buttons on his game controller at lightning speed.

“I’m trying!” Andrew retorted. “We didn’t steal enough missiles from that military base to do a Cruiser any harm, though. And ahhh! Have you ever heard of evasive action?!”

“I’m dodging as fast as I can,” Warren insisted, “but as long as someone doesn’t get the engines back on line, we’re toast.”

“Hey, I have to put the fire out before the power core blows,” Jonathan insisted, clicking at his controller like crazy.

“Forget about power,” Warren said. “We need engines.”

“No, we need weapons,” Andrew insisted.

“No, guys, we really need to stop the fire before-”

A loud explosion filled the TV screen.

“Aw man,” Warren threw down his controller. “What happened?”

“Apparently, three fighters hit us from behind,” Jonathan read the end game message.

“And who was in charge of watching for incoming threats?” Warren cast an evil eye over at Andrew.

“I was too busy trying to fend off the Cruiser!” Andrew insisted.

“We were dead anyway,” Jonathan sulked. “We seriously have to rework our strategy…”

“I’ll check for more tips on-line.” Andrew spun his chair around to face the computer screen and started clicking on the keyboard.

“This sucks!” Jonathan threw his head back.

“Yeah, well, it gives us a break to concentrate on other matters,” Warren shrugged. “How’s the whole killing Buffy project going?”

“There’s still an extra Spike loose around here somewhere,” Jonathan shrugged. “Only we don’t know where, and I don’t know how to send him back home.”

“What do you mean you don’t know how to send him back?” Warren demanded through a mouthful of M&M’s. “Can’t you just reverse the spell?”

“It turns out it’s a lot harder to send someone back in time than it is to bring someone forward,” Jonathan sighed. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think I’m going to find the spell I need on-line.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” Warren demanded.

“Well, unfortunately, there’s only one other place in this town that I know of to find a spell like this…” Jonathan began.