Part One

"We're what?!" Spike looked incredulously at Buffy, not believing his ears.
 

"Going to Los Angeles," Buffy calmly explained. "Angel is having a problem and I've been elected to help."
 

"And who was the brilliant wanker that came up with that idea?"
 

"That would be Giles," she told him. "Faith can't go on count of her new job. If you don't want to come with, I can always go myself."
 

"Hell no!" Spike exclaimed vehemently. "There's no way I'm letting you get within five feet of that hairball alone."
 

"Jealous much?" she asked slyly.
 

Spike growled something obscene under his breath and shoved his hands in the pockets of his duster. "Fine. When do we leave?"
 

"Tomorrow night as soon as the sun sets," Buffy replied. "Mom's calling me off school sick for the rest of the week, just in case. Oh, and we'll be staying with Angel."
 

"Bloody hell," he muttered.
 

"Now, Spike. Don't talk about your sire that way," she scolded.
 

"Technically half-sire," Spike corrected offhandedly.
 

"Huh?"
 

"He drained me, Dru gave me her blood," he said. "Though it'd be hard pressed to tell, seeing as how Angelus was the one to teach me everything. That's why I call him ‘sire.'"
 

"But I thought you were over 200," Buffy said, confused.
 

"Nope. I'm somewhere in my 130's," Spike said, then shrugged. "Cor, how the hell am I suppose to remember how old I am."
 

"Angel does," she told him.
 

"‘Angel does,'" he mocked. "I don't care what that twit does or doesn't do. I thought we were going to a picture?"
 

"Well, if you're going to get all huffy about things," Buffy said, frowning.
 

"‘Huffy'?" Spike asked, a smile tugging at his lips. "I think you've been around Giles too much, luv."
 

"Hey, stop trying to make nice," she admonished . "I'm trying to get mad at you."
 

"We wouldn't want that, now, would we?" he asked innocently, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her flush against him.
 

"Why don't you just shut up and kiss me," Buffy instructed, a small grin on her face.
 

"Isn't that a country song?" Spike said.
 

"Ooh, you," she said, mock scowling at him. Spike laughed and captured her lips in a playful kiss.
 

"Get a room," Cordelia said loudly from behind them as she entered the library. This only prompted Spike to deepen the kiss, practically devouring Buffy with his ardor. The former May Queen snorted in disgust, then went in search of Giles.
 

"Giles, you do realize Buffy is making out in the other room with a badly bleached vampire who has no fashion sense what-so-ever," she said to the librarian, who was at his desk in the office. "I mean, he hasn't changed his clothes since we first met a year and a half ago. Can we say loser?"
 

"Cordelia, is there something that you wanted?" Giles asked, not looking up from the book he was perusing. He knew full well what Buffy was doing, because he could see them through the side door from his desk.
 

"Rude much?" Cordelia said. "I wanted to know if there were any big evil nasty things coming for St. Patrick's Day on Wednesday, because there's a party I want to drag Xander to."
 

"Not that I know of," he replied. He turned in his chair and looked thoughtfully up at the brunette. "How are things between you a-and Xander?"
 

"I haven't killed him yet, if that's what you mean," she said. Giles gave her a look. "Oh, fine, we're doing good. He barely goes ‘Buffy-this' or ‘Willow-that' anymore, completely dotes on me, and buys me more shoes than I really need, which is saying a lot."
 

Giles chuckled under his breath so she wouldn't notice. "I'm glad. He was quite miserable without you."
 

"Really?" Cordelia asked, fighting to keep the hope out of her voice.
 

"Yes, really," he replied.
 

"Well, good," she said, then turned on her heel and left.
 

Giles shook his head. "Don't you two know the meaning of public indecency?" he heard Cordelia say. He glanced out the side door and saw his ward and Spike kissing as if there were no tomorrow. At the rate they were going, he'd end up seeing something he'd rather keep his delusions about. Standing, he walked over to the doorway and cleared his throat loudly.
 

Spike broke the kiss and looked over at the Watcher, a slightly dazed glaze over his eyes. Giles crossed his arms over his chest, giving the vampire a pointed look, which he returned with an embarrassed grin. "Sorry, Watcher. We're going."
 

"What?" Buffy asked, breathing heavily. She looked over at Giles, then blushed. "Oops. Uh, bye Giles!" She grabbed Spike's hand and pulled him out the library doors.
 

Giles sighed heavily, took off his glasses, and began to clean them. "She is such a strange girl."
 

Part Two

Spike hated what they were doing. Not the car trip part. He loved driving his car at night, window down, radio blasting, smoking a cigarette - all of which he was doing at that moment. It was the destination he dreaded. His gut was telling him something was going to happen to upset his perfectly content world, and he didn't like it. Not. One. Bit.
 

He looked over at the love of his undead life, his mate, who was bouncing along with the music, singing off-key. They had fought over the radio station for the first ten minutes of the trip until they landed on a station that played sixties music, which they both enjoyed.
 

*Cor, I love that girl,* he though before returning his eyes to the highway. She was everything to him, the reason the demon inside of him was subdued. Spike had told Angel last month, though his sire didn't hear, that Buffy was his soul. And she was. She touched something in him that he'd never known, not even when he was still human.
 

Spike was anything but a nice man when he was mortal. He'd taken his first life by the time he was eight, a street urchin fighting against a would-be rapist. It was one death after another from that point on as he tried to survive. Then Angelus had come along when he was 19 and the rest was a history of blood and death until he'd arrived in Sunnydale with Drusilla.
 

That's when he saw the vision beside him, dancing at the Bronze with her friends, radiating innocent sexuality. None of the Slayers he'd met, or killed, had exuded such power, and when he'd fought her in the school, he had learned about her wit, strength, skill and beauty. And he knew he was sunk, that his unlife was somehow changed forever. But never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would claim the Slayer. Turn her, maybe, or use her and discard her, not choose her for a mate.
 

"Hey, fang. What'cha thinking about?" Buffy asked, interrupting his musings.
 

"You," Spike replied, sending her a devilish grin.
 

"By that smile, I take it I was sans clothing," she said, rolling her eyes at him.
 

"With whipped creme," he added, lying through his teeth, but loving the picture that appeared in his head. "The spray kind."
 

"You are one naughty vampire," she said.
 

"Guilty," he replied. He frowned when he saw their exit coming up, moving over to the correct lane. He could hear the Funeral March playing in his head and he growled quietly to himself.
 

"I hope whatever Angel needs help with doesn't take long," Buffy said, absently tapping her nails on the door. "Then we can have some fun time in LA, maybe meet my dad for lunch."
 

"I can see that going over well," Spike said. "‘Hello, dad. That pile of dust in the chair is my mate.'"
 

She swatted him. "Funny man. I meant that in the Hollywood way."
 

He picked up a piece of paper with instructions to Angel's and glanced at it. The Watcher's small script was pretty much unintelligible to him, especially with his patience, or lack there of, to decipher it. He thrust it at Buffy. "Read this."
 

"Um, left on Belvue. Right on Carter. Right on Larson. Left on Milton. Third building on left," she read.
 

"Are you sure we can't stay somewhere else?" Spike asked as he maneuvered through the streets of Los Angeles.
 

"Angel's is sun proofed, free, and convenient," Buffy answered. "Plus, we haven't seen him or talked to him in a month now."
 

"Which is a bloody good thing in my book," he muttered.
 

"And I'd like to visit with him," she continued as if he said nothing. "We can't leave things strained between the three of us. I don't want that."
 

"I know you don't, pet," he said begrudgingly. They'd had many a discussion about his sire and, although he'd never admit it, he was extremely jealous of the ensouled vampire. Again. Even though he was technically not in the picture. Unlife sucked sometimes. "Here we are."
 

Buffy unrolled the window to peer up at the warehouse. "What is it with vampires and their love of living in warehouses?"
 

"Free rent?" Spike suggested, pulling to the curb. "Lack of neighbors?"
 

Buffy sighed and shook her head, rolling up the window. "Come on, Blondie. We're not on a pleasure trip."
 

"Don't I know it," he muttered to himself as he got out of the car after grabbing the one large duffel and one small one from the back seat. He followed her to the door and shifted his weight from foot to foot as he waited for it to be answered. He really didn't want to be there.
 

"Hi, Buffy," Angel said upon opening the door. "Spike."
 

"Wanker," Spike said under his breath.
 

"Hi, Angel!" Buffy greeted more enthusiastically. She stepped forward and hugged him, much to both vampires surprise. "Your troops have arrived."
 

Angel gave her a small smile. "Come on in," he invited, stepping back from the door to let them pass. The warehouse was typical, converted to livable style, with sparse furnishings and drywall walls built between posts to make rooms. He had added a second bedroom, complete with furnishings, because Whistler had stayed with him when he first returned to LA. "You guys will be staying in here. The bathroom is in the far corner."
 

"This is a great place, Angel," Buffy commented, sticking her nose in his bedroom. "Much nicer than your old apartment or the drafty mansion."
 

"At least here the sunlight won't kill us," Spike grumbled to himself in memory, throwing the duffel bags on the guest bed. He exited the bedroom to see Buffy examining everything with a curious eye. With a sneer to Angel, he went over to her, kiss her full on the lips, then headed for the door. "I'm going out."
 

"Don't get lost," Buffy called after him. She heard the door slam in response and gave a half grin to Angel. "He didn't want to come."
 

"Obviously," Angel replied. "Would you like something to eat or drink? I still have a lot of things from when Whistler was here last."
 

"Diet Coke if you have it," she answered, flopping down on his soft, blue-cushioned couch. "How is that ugly demon, anyway? Someone didn't kill him, did they?"
 

"Unfortunately, no," Angel said, getting her a can of the recently purchased drink. He lied when he said Whistler left some food, the demon was a chow-hound. He didn't want Buffy to think he went all out for her. "He's been in New York since Valentine's Day, probably terrorizing some vampire bum who wants nothing more than to wallow in his guilt."
 

Buffy laughed, accepting the proffered drink. "I take it he's known to do that sort of thing."
 

"It's an annoying habit he's picked up over the centuries," he replied, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her. "How is Giles and the rest of the group?"
 

"Good. Faith got a job at a factory assembling something," she said. "She hates it, but it pays her rent. Cordelia and Xander are back together, fighting and making out in the closet again."
 

"I'm glad," Angel said. "He really loves her."
 

"How do you know?"
 

"He...he looks at her like I look at you," he replied, avoiding her eyes.
 

"Oh," Buffy responded. She shifted in her seat, then took a long sip of soda. "Um...Giles is Giles, up to his eyeballs in books and lecturing me to hone more. Willow and Oz help out all the time in the library and are the epitome of a cute couple."
 

"‘Epitome?'" Angel asked, looking over at her with a raised brow.
 

"Something Spike used once," she told him. "I responded with ‘I pity you, alright.'"
 

"And how is my unruly dolt of a childe?"
 

"Fine, Angel," Buffy said, sighing dramatically. "Feel the love in this room." Angel shrugged. "Oh, hey. He told me yesterday that you were his half-sire. Does that mean you have less influence over him?"
 

"No. I'm still the master of our ‘family.' In fact, of our line, I am the oldest vampire," Angel told her. "That would actually make me the Master with a capital ‘M'. Of course, since I have a soul, it makes it difficult to lead."
 

"I would imagine so," she said. "Which would mean next in line to take up the helm would be...Drusilla? Ugh. That's not something I want to see."
 

"Yes, it would be Drusilla," he replied. "Then Spike, then whoever they made that's the next oldest."
 

"Well, Spike's out of the running now," Buffy said.
 

"Actually, he's not. You saw the way the vamps reacted on Valentine's Day to him," Angel said. "Even with you as a mate, he is still a soul-less master vampire. The others probably think he's got huge ones because he hasn't changed you yet."
 

"Loving the imagery there, Angel," she said.
 

"Just watch yourself, Buffy," he said. "I worry that you've gotten over your head with him and I don't want you to be hurt - physically or emotionally."
 

"I'm not," Buffy replied. "For whatever unexplainable reason, Spike's in love with me and I'm in love with him."
 

"Promise me you'll still be careful?" Angel asked, looking at her with his soulful eyes.
 

"I promise," she answer. "Now, let's change the subject. Tell me what's up."
 

"Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day," Angel started.
 

"Brought my green," Buffy told him with a smile.
 

"I heard there might be a little problem that starts at noon and lasts until midnight," he continued.
 

"And what would that problem be?"
 

"Leprechauns."
 

Part Three

"Leprechauns?" Buffy repeated incredulously. "As in Frosty Lucky Charms?"
 

"Leprechauns are in no way cute, Buffy," Angel said, his voice lilting with the Irish word. "These little people are full of mischief that can be quite harmful to humans."
 

"Am I going to be looking for a pot of gold?" Buffy asked with a laugh.
 

"Buffy, this is serious," Angel admonished harshly. Buffy quieted immediately and gave him a shamed look. "They are dangerous creatures at the height of their powers tomorrow due to the increase in Irish traditions and celebrations."
 

"Why are they in LA and not Ireland?"
 

"They can appear anywhere they want," he told her. "And they especially like cities with large areas of concentrated Irish-Americans. Like this area."
 

"This area looks like a bunch of warehouses to me," she said.
 

"A few blocks north of here starts one of the prominently Irish Wards," he said.
 

"Ward?"
 

"Like a vampire's territory, only related to government instead," Angel explained the term.
 

"What am I suppose to do?" Buffy asked, setting her can down on the end table and getting into Slayer listening mode.
 

"I need you to go out tomorrow during the day and patrol the streets, especially the pubs," he said. "I have a fake ID set up for you, as well as a backup student ID from Berkeley that says you're twenty-two. That way, you should have no problems."
 

"So, I go from bar to bar looking for little, pointy eared men?" Buffy said.
 

"Basically. I have a few drawings of what they look like," Angel said, standing and walking over to a heavily papered desk against the wall. A tall bookcase piled with books sat next to it. "Here."
 

"Well, they shouldn't be too hard to find," Buffy commented sarcastically, looking at the drawings. Each showed a normal looking man or woman, with pointed ears she was glad to note, and a bag around their waist. "What are these bags?"
 

"They hold the Leprechaun's ‘faerie dust' or magickal powder," he replied. "It's used to cast spells over unsuspecting mortals. Take away their dust, you take away their power."
 

"Right. Purse snatching," she said, handing him back the drawings. "I can do that."
 

"I had no doubt," Angel said with a smile. "I'll give you an extra key as well as some money..."
 

"Cool."
 

"...So you can eat while you're out," he continued. "I'll meet you at O'Malleys on Devon at 6:00, after the sun sets."
 

"Got it," she said with a quick nod. She glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. "Can I use your phone? I promised I would call mom. And Giles. And Willow."
 

"Go ahead," he motioned to the desk. "If you can find it, that is."
 

Buffy stood and went over to the desk. She started moving around piles of papers looking for the elusive phone. "Angel, you need a little organization here."
 

"I am organized," he commented from his seat on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, book open in his lap. "I know exactly where everything is."
 

"Uh-huh," she replied, finally finding the phone. She quickly dialed her mom's number, telling her they arrived safely and would see her on Sunday, then called Giles. "Hey, Giles."
 

"Hello, Buffy. I take it the trip down was uneventful," Giles said over the line.
 

"I wouldn't know. I couldn't see out of the blacked out windows," she joked. "But we didn't die, so that's a plus."
 

"Er...yes," Giles replied.
 

"Here's the skinny, as Faith would say," Buffy said. "Leprechauns."
 

"A-are you certain?"
 

"That's what Angel says," she replied.
 

"Be careful, Buffy," Giles told her. "Leprechauns are very dangerous from what I've read."
 

"Giles, what haven't you read?" Buffy teased. "And I'll be careful. I won't even use my fake ID for the bad."
 

"What?"
 

"Oops, gotta go," she said quickly. "I'll call you later this week if we have any news. Bye." She hung up on her Watcher and grinned over at Angel, who snorted. "What?"
 

"Buffy, I don't know why he puts up with you," Angel said.
 

"Must be my sparkling personality," she said, batting her eyes. She dialed Willow's number and walked towards the bedroom with the phone. "Don't pounce on Spike when he gets back."
 

"I can't believe that you let him go out and kill people," Angel said under his breath so she wouldn't hear. He heard the bedroom door close and sighed. She smelled so good, looked even better than she did a month ago. He loved her so much. Too bad she was in love with Spike of all creatures. He sighed again. This was going to be an interesting visit.
 

Spike wove his way through the pre-St. Patrick's Day party crowd at Lucky's Tavern. He had fed on a few overweight drunks before coming inside, and now was feeling quite jovial. "Set ‘er up, mate. Black & Tan if you got it," he said to the bartender as he took a seat at the crowded bar.
 

As he waited for his drink, he surveyed the crowd with a predator's eye. He spotted another vampire chatting it up with a buxom red-head and nodded when they met eyes. He wasn't about to get in any scuffle while he was in town, although it would be fun. *Maybe later,* he thought as he accepted his drink in exchange for the bills he laid on the counter. He didn't want to be out too long, but he needed to get his temper under control before he returned to the warehouse. It wouldn't do him good to stake Angel when Buffy wanted them to get along.
 

"Hey-ya, sexy," a low, feminine voice said from next him. He turned his head and saw a young, brunette who couldn't have been taller than five feet, with beautiful Asian features smiling seductively at him. "You're not a regular."
 

"That I'm not," Spike replied, giving her a slight grin.
 

"Neither am I," she told him. "Can I buy you a spot?"
 

"Already have some," he replied, holding up his glass slightly.
 

"Pity," she said. "I'm Michael." Spike arched an eyebrow. "My mum was a bit off in the noggin," she said with a lilting voice.
 

"Spike," he responded, taking a sip of his drink.
 

"Now, why would a man such as you be named Spike?" Michael asked. "Unless is relevant to, shall we say, certain physical attributes?"
 

Spike almost choked on his drink. He set his glass down and looked at her. Her lips were curved up slightly, giving her a definite sultry aura. Not one to back down from a confrontation, even a sexually charge one, he said, "Might be. You never know..."
 

Michael's laugh was a twinkling sound and he found himself drawn in by her. *This is not right,* he admonished himself. *I think you fed on one too many drunks.* "I have to be going, luv," he said to her, finishing his drink in one long swallow.
 

"Will you be back tomorrow for the celebrations?" Michael asked.
 

"Celebrations?" Spike repeated, the alcohol shooting right to his brain. He looked at her and frowned.
 

"St. Patrick's Day is tomorrow, pet," she said. "Wear your green and celebrate Ireland."
 

"But I'm not Irish..."
 

"You don't have to be," she interrupted, giving him a sexy, half-smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."
 

"Right, tomorrow," Spike said, turning for the door. When he got outside, the cool March night air hit his face, blowing the long, leather duster back slightly as he started for the warehouse. He was almost to the door when he realized that he was rather aroused and he'd just agreed to meet some woman named Michael at a bar tomorrow. *Bloody hell,* he cursed to himself, yanking open the door. *As the Slayer would say, this is so not good.*
 

"Spike," Angel greeted with no inflection in his voice from his seat on the couch. Spike didn't bother to answer, he kept walking past to the bedroom, opening and closing the door with a bang.
 

"Hi, sweety," Buffy said to him, then returned to the phone conversation. "Spike just got back, Will. I'll have to-"
 

Spike grabbed the phone from her hands. "She'll call you tomorrow," he said into the phone, then disconnected.
 

"Hey! I was talking to Wil-" Buffy was interrupted a second time by Spike's mouth on hers, forcefully silencing her with his rough kiss. He grabbed her off the bed and shoved her tap pants and panties off her hips, then stepped on them as he picked her up, removing them completely.
 

Setting her back on her feet, he shrugged off his duster, then worked the buckle and zipper of his jeans, his mouth never leaving hers. Their tongues clashed and dueled, his teeth cutting against her lips as he freed himself.
 

Buffy found herself on her back, her love pounding into her like some hidden demon was urging him on. She felt his hand dip between their bodies to finger her and she soon climaxed, bringing him with her. He grunted as he came, burying himself as far into her as he could. He collapsed on top of her afterwards, jeans around his knees, both of them still wearing their T-shirts.
 

"Um...what was that?" Buffy asked when she found her voice. She stroked the back of his blond head as he lay on top of her.
 

Spike pushed up on one arm and looked at her. "Some girl was hitting on me," he told her truthfully. "It was unnerving."
 

"Did you like it?" Buffy said carefully, jealousy rising up in her.
 

"No," he replied. "It was...off somehow. Like I wasn't in control. Bloody hell, I don't know." He rolled off of her and covered his eyes with his arm. "Maybe I had one too many drunks."
 

"Don't you mean drinks?" He lifted his arm and gave her a pointed look. "Oh. Well, maybe."
 

"Fuck," he swore. He sat up and took off his clothes completely, then dug in his small duffle for a pair of cut off sweats. Sliding them on, he grabbed his bath gear and headed for the door. "I'm going to take a shower, pet. Wash some of this muddiness out of my brain."
 

"Ok," Buffy replied, pulling her T-shirt down to cover herself as he left. As soon as the door was closed, she retrieved her panties, then changed into her sleep wear which consisted of a pair of silk, drawstring pants and a thin-strap tank top. Barefoot, she went out into the living room with the discarded phone and plopped on the couch.
 

"What's wrong?" Angel asked, turning the book over in his lap to mark his place. "Spike came skulking out of there like he was mad at something."
 

"He was mad at himself," Buffy said, then sighed. "Nothing to bother you about. I'm just going to wait until he's done in the bathroom, then clean up and go to bed. Busy day tomorrow."
 

"If you're sure..." He looked over at her, love and concern plainly visible in his eyes.
 

"Yeah," she said, reaching over and squeezing his arm. "I'm sure."
 

"Well, I'm always here for you," he said. "You know that."
 

"Thanks, Angel. That means a lot to me," Buffy replied. She yawned and laid her head back on the corner of the couch. "What time should I leave tomorrow?"
 

"Leave around 11:45 and start at Carter's Bar and Grille, then work your way north from there. You won't have any trouble finding the other pubs, especially since it's St. Patrick's Day. The patrons will be spilling out onto the street," Angel said. "And be careful of dangers of the human kind. Even as early as noon, there's bound to be a lot of drunks on the streets."
 

Part Four

"A lot of drunks, he says," Buffy commented as she forced her way into the second bar of the early afternoon. So far she'd been propositioned five times, grabbed at least twenty and given every pick up line in the book. She looked down at her green stretch pants and matching baby doll tee, the black leather jacket and ankle high boots offsetting her outfit. Her hair was left loose around her face, to give her the appearance of being twenty-two, as her fake ID's said.
 

Senses on alert, she managed to get to the bar and ordered a Diet Coke, then looked around the pub. Murphy's was packed to the gills already, people drinking and joking as they watched one of the many parades on the televisions set up in the corners of the room. When she got her drink, she noted absently the amount of green clothing. St. Patrick's Day was nothing to joke about in this Irish section of LA.
 

"Hi there," a husky male voice said from her left. Buffy turned her head to see a young, very good looking man leaning casually against the bar next to her. His semi-long, dark red hair brushed his shoulders, and his dark green eyes slanted upwards slightly in the corners. He was dressed in a dark green, untucked T-shirt and black jeans. "Happy Irish day."
 

Buffy couldn't help but smile in return. "It's not easy being green," she joked, raising her glass in greeting.
 

He laughed, a light, airy sound that made her body tingle. "I'm Timothy," he said, holding out his hand.
 

"Buffy," she replied, shaking it.
 

"Is that all you're drinking?" Timothy asked, indicating her Diet Coke.
 

"It's a little early to be drinking anything else," Buffy said, taking a sip.
 

"Not to some of us," he stated, gesturing to the other patrons of the pub. The bartender walked by and Timothy stopped him, ordering two specials. Almost instantly, he had two, tall, green beers in front of him. He pushed one over to Buffy.
 

"Oh, that's ok. I'm fine with mine," she said.
 

"You can't get through St. Paddy's Day without having a sip of green beer," Timothy prompted.
 

"I don't think..."
 

"It's the luck of the Irish to have a drink with a mate," he said in a lilting voice, the low tones rolling over her senses like a caressing wave. He raised an unobtrusive hand over one of the glasses and rubbed his fingers together. "Just one sip, I'll be happy to drink the rest."
 

"One sip?" Buffy asked, setting down her own glass and picking up the one with the green liquid.
 

"One sip," Timothy replied. He raised his glass in a toast. "To seeing your friend as your lover and your lover as your friend."
 

"Right," she said, giving him a puzzled look.
 

"It's not a proper toast if you don't repeat it, lass," Timothy prompted, his voice lilting seductively again.
 

"To seeing your friend as your lover and your lover as your friend," Buffy repeated, smiling at him. They clinked glasses, and she took a sip of the alcohol. She was pleasantly surprised it didn't taste half bad, not at all like the drink she'd had at that frat party long ago. She allowed herself to take two, long droughts of it, then set it on the counter. "That's it for me."
 

Timothy smiled, his perfect white teeth gleaming in the dim interior of the bar. "That's all you need," he replied mysteriously.
 

"Erin go bragh, so sang she did, on this lovely land of Eire," Buffy sang off key as she swayed down the block. Somehow two sips had led to four, which led to a glass, which led to ten glasses, and she didn't even know it happened. It was if she wasn't in control of her actions as she joked around with Timothy for a few hours before moving on to the next bar as instructed by Angel. She had hit six of the twenty in the Ward, meeting new people and singing lively tunes as the day turned to night.
 

"Looking for O'Malleys at six o'clock at night," she sang. "Will someone help my with my terrible plight."
 

"I'll help you, missy," a portly, drunk man sashayed up to her, flinging his arm over her shoulder. "I'm heading to O'Malleys meself."
 

"Shall we sing a tune on the way?" Buffy asked, taking the green, plastic bowler off of his head and plunking it on her own blond head.
 

"Oh, Danny-boy, oh Danny-boy," the man began to sing in a loud tenor. "How lovely are thy branches."
 

Buffy giggled and picked up the tune. "Oh, Danny-boy, oh, Danny-boy. How lovely are thy branches..."
 

They arrived at the pub, but couldn't get through the open door together, so the gentleman picked Buffy up in his arms to a crowd of cheers and carried her inside to the bar. He managed to snag a stool and sat down, leaving the Slayer on his lap. "Two of your finest green beer," he called to the bartender.
 

Buffy picked up her drink and made a toast to the stranger. "To green, the color of the Irish!"
 

"Here, here!" He and several other patrons near them toasted with her. She drank half of the brew down before turning her attention to the patrons in the bar on the lookout for both Angel and any Leprechauns. "Hey, you haven't seen any Leprechauns tonight, have you?" she asked the man.
 

"Not yet, but the night's still young," he answered with a conspiratorial wink. She giggled and drank some more.
 

Angel entered O'Malleys a few minutes after six and looked around for the blond Slayer. The crowd was getting thicker as employees finished working for the night. Luckily, he was rather tall and could see over most of the people. He pushed his way further into the pub to ask the bartender who he was friends with if he'd seen her.
 

Then he heard her laughter over the sounds of the patrons. Following the wonderful noise, he continued on his path until he ended up next to a large man with a petite woman on his lap, who was wearing a bright green, plastic bowler. "Buffy?"
 

Buffy turned her head and looked up at the man who called her name. She smiled brightly and slid off the mans lap, then jumped up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Spike! You're here! Hey, everyone, this is my boyfriend Spike! Isn't he a hottie?"
 

Cheers went up around the room as Angel looked at the Slayer in confusion. "Uh, Buffy. I'm not Spike."
 

"Of course you are, silly," Buffy said, leaning closer to his face, the bowler rising up as it hit his forehead. "I'd recognize those blue eyes and bleach job anywhere."
 

Angel caught a whiff of alcohol on her breath and tightened his hold on her as she began to squirm in his arms. "Buffy, you're drunk. And I'm not Spike. I'm Angel."
 

Buffy cocked her head to one side and looked at the man holding her. She saw the familiar blond hair, blue eyes, scar and beautiful cheekbones of the vampire she loved. "Spike, stop being a...a...goof! And I'm not drunk, I only had two sips at noon."
 

"I think it's time to take you home," Angel said. "It's obvious that you are completely plastered."
 

"No! I don't want to go yet! It's Irish day!" Buffy shouted loudly. Everyone who heard her cheered and she let go with one hand and lifted the hat on her head in acknowledgment.
 

"Buff-" Angel started to say when he was suddenly cut off by her extremely passionate kiss.
 

Spike forced his way through the doors of O'Malleys where he was suppose to meet up with Angel and Buffy. He shoved past a group of twenty-somethings, then jumped up on the back of someone's chair to look over the crowd.
 

The world dropped out from under his feet. Over by the bar was Buffy kissing Angel with a flourish. It looked as though she was trying to eat him alive as she clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, one arm holding the back of his dark head.
 

His heart feeling as though it were being ripped out of his body, he stepped off of the chair and pushed his way out of the bar. He managed to get around the corner into the alley before he let out a savage growl and punched the brick wall, shattering the rock. Blood was going to run that night.
 

Part Five

Angel listened to the shower running as his mind played over what happened. It wasn't that he didn't like being kissed by Buffy in that manner, but he would rather it have been him that she was kissing, not Spike who she obviously thought he was. He heard the front door open and sprang to his feet. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank god you're back, Spike. We have a serious prob-"
 

CRACK. Angel flew back into a wall at the strength of the blow, banging his head. Spots swam before his eyes as he looked up at the infuriated vampire.
 

"I. Hate. You," Spike ground out in a very low, measured, deadly tone. He spun and kicked Angel across the face and all went black.
 

As Angel came back to consciousness, he became aware of five things.
 

He was tied up and blindfolded.
 

He was tied up and blindfolded on a bed.
 

He was tied up and blindfolded on a bed, and had no clothes on.
 

He was tied up and blindfolded on a bed, had no clothes on, and someone was kissing and licking up his right leg.
 

He jerked, she giggled. "Buffy?"
 

"Present," Buffy said, continuing her trail.
 

"What-" Angel groaned as she hit a sensitive spot by his knee. "Buffy, stop."
 

"Nope," she replied, moving further up his thigh. "Angel's not home and I am very horny." She nipped at his inner thigh.
 

"Oh, god," Angel moaned as she licked him along the crease on his upper thigh to his hip. "Buffy, you have to stop."
 

Buffy raised her head to look at the man lying tied up before her through alcohol hazed eyes. "Spike, last time I did this, you had no complaints," she slurred, then nuzzled the curls around his manhood, pushing his legs apart so she could settle between them.
 

"Buffy, listen to me, I'm not Sp-IKE!" Angel screamed out the last part in surprise as Buffy licked him from anus up and over his heavy sac, then up to the tip of his hard, now throbbing, shaft. Her tongue ran around the tip, then engulfed it with her hot mouth.
 

"Fuck," he swore as she began sucking on him, her hair brushing against his thighs. "Think bad thoughts, think bad thoughts, think bad thoughts," he repeated as she expertly ran her tongue on the sensitive underside. Suddenly, she deep throated him, her nose pressing against his abdomen and he arched up off the bed. He began thrusting into her face.
 

Buffy chuckled around the mouthful of cock, the action causing her throat muscles to tighten around his head. Two more thrusts and he exploded, shooting his salty semen down into her mouth. She swallowed and began to lick him clean, and it was all Angel could do not to expire right there on the bed.
 

*Guilt, despair, fuck, death, pain, fuck, misery, evil, fuck, fuck, fuck,* he said to himself as he felt Buffy trace her fingers up his chest.
 

"Spi-ike," she said in a sing-song voice. "Would you like some Buffy pie?"
 

"No," Angel managed to gasp out just before she straddled his face. Her arousal assaulted his sense of smell, permeating his brain as he felt her vaginal lips press against his mouth. She began to rub back and forth lightly, her clit extended as she waiting for him to begin. *I'm going to hell. Again,* he thought as he opened his mouth and began to lick and suck her.
 

"Oh, yesss, Spike. Oooooohhhhh," Buffy moaned as she felt his blunt teeth bite down on her.
 

*She's thinking of Spike, remember that,* Angel told himself as he continued to lavish her. *Not you. You're evil. You killed hundreds of people.*
 

Buffy suddenly screamed out in pleasure as she climaxed, thrusting down on his face and Angel felt his cock spring to life again. He felt her slide off his face bonelessly and onto the side of the bed, her heavy breathing sounding exceptionally loud in his ears.
 

"Oh, looky. Not-so-little-Spike wants to play again," she said with a breathy voice. She giggled drunkenly, then straddled his hips, holding the hard shaft in her hand. "Are you ready for me, baby?"
 

"Please, Buffy, no. Don't," Angel begged, squeezing his eyes shut behind the blindfold.
 

"Don't what?" Buffy asked with fake innocence. "Don't do this?" She lowered herself onto him in one hard thrust, burying him to the hilt.
 

"Yes," he gasped out between clenched teeth. *She's so hot, so wet, I'm in so deep. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...*
 

Buffy grinned down at her blindfolded mate and squeezed his cock with her vaginal muscles. She laughed throatily at his forced intake of breath, then leaned forward and brushed her breasts against his pale chest, the nipples rock hard. "Like that?"
 

"No, hate, hate, hate, evil, evil," Angel barely could get out when he felt her pressed against him. She licked the hollow of his throat as she began riding him slowly, making him come almost all the way out before thrusting back down to the hilt. When she pressed her lips to his, her tongue darting out seeking to deepen the kiss, he was gone.
 

Their tongues clashed as Buffy began moving faster, their pelvises smacking with each thrust. She moaned into his mouth as her orgasm started to build, and she put her hand between them to stroke herself.
 

*Giles, Jenny, Kendra, Daniel, Margaret, Kelly, Mother, Father, Theresa, Justin, Spike, Drusilla, Willow, fish, puppies, Rachel, Carl, Rose, Lucy, Giles, Jenny, Giles, Jenny, Giles, Jenny,* Angel repeated over and over in his mind as his balls tightened, signaling he was going to cum.
 

Buffy threw her head back away from his as she exploded, her muscles clamping hard around him, her voice loud as she shouted her love's name. "SPIKE!"
 

It no longer mattered to him that she thought she was fucking Spike. The second she tightened around him, he came, shooting his cold seed deep within her womb. "AAAAHH, BUFFY!" Angel yelled out, bucking his hips up into her.
 

She collapsed on top of him, her heart pounding in syncopation with her head. She lightly kissed his neck, then nuzzled closer, her breathing slowly coming under control. "Mmm, good," she whispered.
 

Angel didn't answer. He couldn't. He was too afraid that at any moment he was going to lose his soul again. *Please no,* he thought, tears starting to run down the side of his temples behind the blindfold. *Please, God, don't let me lose my soul again.*
 

"I guess I should let you up now," Buffy sighed as she reached for the blindfold. She pushed it off his head, then reached for the key on the night stand. While she was unlocking the cuffs, she looked at her love. "Hey, you're crying. Why are you crying, Spike?"
 

In response, Angel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I love you, Buffy. Remember that I always will, even when you have to kill me."
 

"That's silly talk," Buffy scolded, reveling in his closeness. "You've been good, not killing anyone too much. And you helped Willow and Oz with their date, and Cordy with torturing Xander ‘til he only thought of her. You're a good vampire with a great, big dick." She giggled drunkenly again. "And I's the naughty Slayer."
 

Angel couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the situation, his emotions were too far gone to do anything else. He just had sex with the love of his life, she thought he was someone else, and now he may lose his soul again. Unlife sucked.
 

Spike slammed into the bar, his eyes bloodshot, his skin paler than normal. "Vodka, straight," he demanded, the second word only coming out slightly slurred. There was a wild air about him, as if he were holding on to his sanity by barely a thread.
 

After leaving the warehouse, he'd gone and fed off of several dozen drunks, gorging himself on their alcohol laden blood. He'd then grabbed a young man who looked similar to Angel and dragged him into a dark alley, where he proceeded to rip his tongue out, then tore out his intestines with his bare hands, bathing in the dark fluid that ran from his body.
 

"Hello again, sexy," he heard from next to him. His head swum as he turned to face the woman he'd met the night before. The bartender returned with his drink and he slammed it back, then ordered another, instructing him to leave the bottle.
 

"Michael," Spike greeted finally.
 

The petite, Asian looking woman smile up at him. "Someone has had a bit too much to drink," she commented.
 

"Not bloody likely," he replied, slamming back another shot of vodka. He poured another and looked down at her. "I'm not good company tonight, ducks." Michael laughed, and Spike felt something electrical run down his spine, making him shiver. He frowned and downed the vodka.
 

"I think you need company more than you realize," she said in a low, sultry voice.
 

Spike's blue eyes ran over her body from dark head to heel clad foot, noting the tight, dark green dress, with a small bag tied around her waist. *The Slayer would look good in that,* he thought, then swore fluently.
 

Michael arched one eyebrow, and she brushed her hair behind her ear. "What's with the swearing, sexy?"
 

He poured himself another shot, examining the glass as if it held the answers to the universe. He then looked over to her again and furrowed his brow in confusion. "Your ear is pointed," Spike slurred. "Are you an elf?"
 

She laughed again, and he felt his knees felt like jell-o. "Not an elf, dear. I'm much more interesting than that."
 

"Well, I saw my mate frenching the man I bloody hate more than anyone in my long, sordid history, including my dad, so seeing a woman with pointed ears should be no surprise," Spike told her. He drank down the shot.
 

"What if I told you I could make all you feel all better?" Michael asked, cocking her head to one side.
 

"I would say for how much?" he replied.
 

"It's not a matter of price," she said. "It's a matter of what you wanted."
 

"I want to rip that bloody wanker's cock off and shove it down his throat," Spike said viciously, sloppily pouring another shot and slamming it down.
 

"How come I think you can do that without my help?" Michael said.
 

"Listen, pet, unless you can make this aching hole in my heart disappear, bugger off," he replied.
 

Michael smiled and reached for the bottle of liquor. She took the shot glass from Spike's hand and refilled it, then reached into the bag at the waist. She sprinkled some dust over the drink. "You are a cute one," she commented. "Here." She handed him the drink. "A toast. To forgetting your love."
 

"Here, here. To forgetting my love, the betraying bitch," Spike said with an affirmative nod of his head. He slammed back the drink, then wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his duster. He looked over at Michael and grinned. "So, care for a drink?"
 

"I thought you'd never ask," Michael replied, sliding closer to him.
 

Part Six

Angel looked over at the clock and sighed in relief. "Seven hours and still soul-ful," he mumbled, shifting the blond in his arms. Shortly after Buffy had released him, she passed out and had yet to move. He knew she'd have a killer hangover if she ever woke up. Deciding it was late enough to call Giles and inform him of the problem, he got out of bed and slid on a pair of sweats, then left the room in search of the phone.
 

"Now, where did Buffy put it?" he said to himself as he moved papers on his desk. He heard the bedroom door open behind him and looked back to see Spike emerge from the guest room. "Spike, listen, about last night..."
 

"What about it, mate?" Spike asked, holding a hand to his head. "Cor, I have a bloody headache." The blond vampire stumbled towards the kitchen, then stopped and turned to look at Angel. "Any reason why you're here?"
 

"I live here," Angel replied, confused.
 

"Then why am I here?" Spike said, frowning. "Did you lose your soul again?"
 

"No, thank god," he answered.
 

"But I hate you," Spike said, holding a conversation more with himself than Angel. "You took away Drusilla. Why the bloody hell am I here?"
 

"Uh, you came down with Buffy, remember?"
 

"Who?"
 

Angel blinked in shock. "Did you just ask ‘who'?"
 

"Ow, somebody call 9-1-1," Buffy muttered as she walked slowly into the room, holding her head much as Spike had been. She looked over towards the kitchen and spotted the dark haired vampire. "Hey, Angel. Sorry I didn't meet you last night."
 

Spike looked at the blond girl addressing him as Angel, his eyes widening. "Slayer," he hissed, game face sliding into place.
 

"Wha-" Buffy started to say, but was cut off when who she thought was Angel tackled her. They both fell to the floor with a loud thud, the Slayer hitting her head on the hard tile. She blinked rapidly to clear the stars from her eyes. "Angel, what are you doing?"
 

"Die, Slayer," Spike spat, raising his fist to crack her across the jaw.
 

Buffy reeled with the blow, her eyes watering. *Oh, god, he's lost his soul again,* she thought as she blocked his next hit, grabbing his wrist and flipping him over her head. She scrambled to her feet to face him. "Angel?"
 

The real Angel was momentarily stunned, but at Buffy's tremulous voice he leapt towards the attacking Spike, grabbing him around the arms. Spike threw his head back and hit Angel on the nose, causing him to let go. Spike elbowed him in the gut, then grabbed him into a head lock and threw him towards the open guest room door.
 

Buffy screamed in rage when she saw Angel hurt her love. Her foot shot out, catching him across the face as she continued to spin into a powerful back kick. It landed right on target in his gut, causing him to double over in pain.
 

Spike growled loudly and latched onto the foot planted firmly in his midsection. He yanked with all his strength, sending the Slayer to the floor. Before she could stand, he jumped on her with both feet, his heels cracking her rib cage into many pieces, some of which imbedded into her lungs. He snarled victoriously as she cried out in pain.
 

Angel pushed himself off the floor from where he landed, his own game face coming to the foreground. That's when he smelled blood. His head shot up and he saw a woman lying on the bed, twin puncture marks on her neck. He took a step towards her and noticed the pointed ears. "Leprechaun," he gasped, his mind suddenly grasping the fact that Spike was probably under a spell. His eyes quicky searched the room until he found the small, nondescript bag sitting on the night stand.
 

Spike grabbed the Slayer's hair and yanked her head to one side, baring her neck. "This is going to hurt," he told her gleefully before sinking his fangs into her neck.
 

Angel had just opened the bag when he heard the pain and horror filled cry. He ran out of the room to see Spike sink his fangs into Buffy. "NO!" he screamed, charging at the blond vampire, tackling him off of her.
 

With a loud snarl, Angel grabbed Spike's hair by his free hand and banged his head on the floor repeatedly before he was thrown off by the smaller vampire, who quickly scrambled to his feet. The open bag flew out of his other hand as he hit the ground, spilling its contents as it sailed end over end through the air.
 

Spike's legs went out from under him as a massive jolt of energy seemed to fly through his system, sending him back to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the disorientated feeling would leave quickly. "What the bloody hell was that?"
 

"Spike?"
 

Buffy's soft, pain filled voice broke through to both vampires who were on the floor. Spike opened his eyes to see her laying a few feet from him, two large, ugly gashes in her neck which were bleeding profusely. "Slayer!" he cried out, crawling quickly to her side.
 

She blinked several times to clear the haze from her eyes as she tried to discern who came into view. "Spike?" she called again, her voice weaker. She managed to focus and saw Angel looking down at her with a worried face, causing her to panic. "Please, don't kill me, Angel."
 

Spike looked up at his sire who had come and knelt at her other side, phone in his hand, with confusion and anger. "You did this?!"
 

"No, you did," Angel said somewhat harshly. He began to speak to the emergency operator.
 

The blond vampire's head shot back as if he'd been punched. "What?"
 

"Spike, where are you?" Buffy's small cry came from her lips.
 

"I'm right here, baby," Spike said, pressing his hand to her neck.
 

"Please, Angel, no," she begged, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She managed to turn her head a little as saw her love kneeling by her side. "Spike, help me."
 

"Help is on the way, Buffy," Angel told her, phone still at his ear. He reached forward and grabbed her hand. "I'm right here."
 

"Angel go..." Buffy started to say, then cut off which a wracking cough, blood coming out of her mouth with her saliva.
 

"Spike, get away from her," Angel instructed. "She thinks you're me."
 

"What?" Spike said. "You've got to be bloody joking!"
 

"I tried to tell you last night, but you punched me before I got a chance," Angel said.
 

"Slayer," Spike said, leaning closer to his love on the floor, not believing him. "I'm here, luv."
 

Buffy looked at him with fear and sadness in her eyes. "Get away, Angel," she gasped out.
 

Spike didn't know what to do as his eyes filled with tears. Angel took the decision away from him by shoving him back from Buffy, causing him to slide across the floor several feet. He watched somewhat dazed as Angel leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
 

Suddenly, the events of the past night started playing out in his mind. In fast motion, he saw Michael coming back here with him, them having sex in the guest bedroom, draining her, passing out then waking with a horrific headache. He saw his reaction to Buffy, his attack on her and felt his stomach turn as he saw in his mind's eye the look of horror on her face as he sunk his fangs into her neck. "No," he whispered, his body tensing in pain of what he'd done.
 

Sirens sounded near the warehouse and he heard Angel calling to him to let them inside. He stumbled to his feet and to the door, admitting the EMTs. Vaguely, he heard Angel talking to them as he stood by the door in shock.
 

"Spike,"Angel said, coming up to the blond vampire and touching his arm. "You need to move."
 

Spike nodded and walked towards the bedroom, his eyes avoiding the scene on the floor. He managed to get halfway in the room when he collapsed onto the floor, a loud sob coming from deep in his chest. *Buffy, what have I done?* he thought as the tears began to stream down his face.
 

"How is she?" Angel asked into the phone a few hours later. Giles, Joyce and the entire Scooby Gang had rushed down to Los Angeles as soon as he called, breaking several speed and physics laws.
 

"Still in surgery," Giles replied from the other end of the line. "They said both lungs were punctured and had severe trauma to the diaphragm and lower chest cavity."
 

"Do they...do they think she'll make it?" Angel said, his voice slightly choked.
 

"They're giving her a-a-a 30% chance," Giles answered. "But only because the bleeding stopped."
 

"Damn, I wish I were there," he said. His eyes flicked to the closed guest room door. "We need to break the spell on her, Rupert."
 

"I have already sent the others out to try and find the Leprechaun," Giles said. "Hopefully, someone will remember Buffy speaking to-to...er, someone."
 

"Let me know the minute she's out of surgery," Angel instructed.
 

"Certainly," Giles replied.
 

"May I speak with Joyce for a minute?"
 

"Here she is," Giles said.
 

"Angel?"
 

"Joyce, how are you holding up?" Angel asked over the line.
 

"I'm ok. How is Spike doing?" Joyce said.
 

"Not good. He's basically catatonic," Angel told her. When he had talked to the Watcher earlier, he explained what had happened since finding Buffy the night before, leaving out the part where she basically jumped his bones. He had checked up on Spike to find him sitting in the middle of the floor, staring off into space. Nothing he tried got through to the blond vampire, so he did what he could with the body until he could properly dispose of it, then left him alone.
 

"Do you think it would help if I tried talking to him?" Joyce asked.
 

"I doubt it," he replied. "I think the only thing that will get through to him is Buffy being ok. Of course, it won't do any good unless this spell is broken."
 

"I understand," Joyce said. "Well, I guess... wait, here comes Willow and she looks excited. Hold on a second."
 

Angel could hear muffled conversations as Buffy's mom put her hand over the receiver. Suddenly, he heard Willow's voice rather than Joyce's.
 

"Angel? It's Willow," she said. "We found him and got his pouch away."
 

Angel slumped in relief. "That's great, Willow."
 

"Yeah, it was pretty cool. I got to flirt with him while Oz and Xander pretended to start a fight. Then they bumped into him, and he bumped into me and I picked his pocket," Willow said excitedly. He chuckled, despite the heavy situation. "Oh! Here comes the doctor."
 

He would be holding his breath if it did any good as he waited for Willow to return with news. He could live with her hating him as long as she was alright.
 

"Angel, it's Oz," the werewolf said over the line. "I thought you'd might like to know, since everyone seems to have forgotten you, that Buffy's going to be ok. They fixed her lungs or something and now she's resting in recovery. The doctor said she woke up briefly asking for Spike, then went back to sleep."
 

*Thank you, god,* Angel thought. "We'll be there as soon as the sun sets."
 

"I have a better idea," Oz said. "How about I pick you guys up in my van. There's hardly any windows here, and if you can sprint from door to door..."
 

Part Seven

"Spike?" Angel crouched down beside the blond vampire sitting on the floor. "Oz is here to take us to the hospital to see Buffy." He was surprised when Spike turned his head, then somewhat scared when he saw the haunted blue eyes set against an expressionless face. "Come on. Buffy needs you," Angel said.
 

Spike stood and took his duster from the other vampire, then followed behind him slowly, as if there were chains dragging behind him. His body was on autopilot, and his mind had shut down in protection after seeing himself try to kill Buffy over and over again.
 

"Door to door service,"Oz said, standing between the van and the warehouse wall. There was less than three feet between the two, just enough to swing the door closed. Angel practically threw Spike across the sunlit area, then jumped into the automobile behind him.
 

They arrived under the covered entryway to the hospital fifteen minutes later. Willow was standing near the doors waiting for them. "Hi, Angel," she greeted, giving him a brief hug. She looked at the blond vampire with worry clearly etched on her face as he climbed out of the van. "Hi, Spike," she said, laying a hand on his arm. He looked down at her with huge, haunted eyes and she bit her lip. "Come on. There's someone who wants to see you."
 

In the elevator to the fifth floor, Willow gave Angel the small bag she took from the red headed Leprechaun earlier that day. "We didn't know what to do with this. Not even Giles, which is odd. Giles knows everything. The again, he doesn't have his books here, so we decided to wait and give it to you. Unless we did wrong?"
 

Angel smiled slightly at her. "No, you did right. I just have to decide whether or not to let Buffy think that it was me that attacked her."
 

"No."
 

The word came out as a whisper, barely audible in the paneled elevator. Angel turned to Spike, confusion on his face. "You want her to believe it was you?"
 

"It was me," Spike said in a low, harsh voice. He lapsed into silence again, staring at the floor, his jaw moving as he clenched and unclenched it.
 

The doors opened and the two vamps followed Willow down the sterile corridor. Joyce approached them and smiled. "She's awake and already wanting to leave. The doctors said the injuries weren't as bad as they first thought, and with her Slayer healing, she'll be up and terrorizing Sunnydale in no time."
 

"That's wonderful, Joyce," Angel said quietly. He looked over at Spike, who hadn't given any indication that he'd heard. "Isn't that right, Spike?"
 

"Where is she?" Spike asked in a choked voice.
 

"They're not allowing visitors other than family," Joyce said "I can try talking with the nurse."
 

"Let me handle this, Joyce," Angel said, taking Spike by the arm and leading him over to the nurses station. "Buffy Summers room."
 

"Only family are allowed in ICU recovery," the nurse said.
 

"This is her husband, Spike," Angel told her. It was true in the general meaning of the word. Mate, such as in reference to wolves, was closer, but the ensouled vampire doubted that would get them anywhere. "I understand she's been asking for him."
 

"Yes, she has," the nurse responded, smiling. "She's in room 559."
 

"Thanks," he replied, leading Spike past the automatic doors, down the hall and to the glass enclosed room. There were no windows, so there was no worry of becoming a pile of ash before they could say hello. "Buffy?" Angel called softly to the blond lying on the bed as they entered.
 

Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike and Angel standing next to her bed. "Spike?" she asked with a confused tone, her gaze darting between the vampires.
 

Spike dropped his head to his chest and closed his eyes tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
 

Buffy looked at who she still thought was Angel, her lips pressed together to suppress her tears. "You attacked me Angel. Why?"
 

"Buffy, you need to know something," Angel said, holding out the small bag Willow gave him to her. "You are under a Leprechaun's spell, as was Spike when he attacked you."
 

"What are you talking about, Spike?" Buffy asked, frowning up at him.
 

"Dump the bag while looking at us," Angel instructed, handing her an empty ice pitcher that was on the table.
 

Buffy looked at him like he was off his rocker, but did as asked. As the fine dust fell harmlessly from the bag, it was as if she stuck her finger in an electric socket. Her whole body jerked in shock, causing her to hiss in pain. Then, she jerked in shock for another reason. Before her eyes she saw Spike fade into Angel and Angel into Spike.
 

Angel took the empty bag and pitcher from her before it fell. "I'll leave you two alone. Remember, he was under a spell, too."
 

Buffy blinked back her tears and looked up at the real Spike. Her love had attacked her, trying to kill her while under a spell. *He must be devastated,* she thought. "Are you...are you ok?"
 

Spike raised his head, his pain filled eyes meeting hers. "I'm so sorry, Buffy," he said, his voice becoming heavy with emotion.
 

She reached out and grabbed his duster, pulling him closer to the bed. "Hold me," she said.
 

Spike sat and gathered the petite Slayer up in his arms. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm so sorry," he repeated as he began to sob, his cheek pressed against the top of her head.
 

Buffy held him tightly as he cried, her heart going out to him as her mind thought of the violent things she was going to do to the Leprechaun who hurt him. Suddenly, the previous night's activities flashed in her mind and her breath caught. She remembered drinking and singing, then jumping on who she thought was Spike at the bar before being brought back to Angel's. Then quite clearly, she remembered what happened afterwards and started to blush. *Oh my god, I had sex with Angel!*
 

Spike calmed down enough so sobs were no longer wracking his body, only silent tears coursing down his cheeks. "I almost killed you," he whispered in a broken voice.
 

"It wasn't your fault," Buffy said against his chest.
 

"I wanted to kill you," he said as if she didn't say anything. "You, the woman I love more than life, more than blood." He took a deep, unneeded breath, then continued. "I love you so bloody much, Buffy. You fill the place in my heart where my soul use to be. You are my soul. And I almost killed you."
 

Buffy pushed away from him and sat up completely, despite her protesting body. She put a hand under his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Spike, I love you. It wasn't your fault. I did something under a spell, too, that you're not going to be happy about."
 

"What can be worse than my trying to kill you?" Spike asked, wiping the tears from his face with forceful strokes.
 

"I had sex with Angel."
 

Spike's mouth dropped open as his eyes widened. It would have been comical if she wasn't so scared he'd hate her now. "You did what?!" he exclaimed.
 

"Handcuffed and blindfolded Angel to the bed, then had my wicked way with him," she replied. "If it's any consolation, I thought he was you."
 

The response she received for her confession wasn't what she expected at all. Spike burst out laughing, falling back off the hospital bed and onto the floor. She leaned over and looked down to see him clenching his sides as he continued to laugh. "Um, Spike? Are you mad?"
 

"Cor, Slayer, I would have bloody loved to have been a fly on that wall when you did that," he gasped between laughs. "I bet you screamed out my name several times, and you were shagging him!"
 

Buffy frowned. "I don't see how this is funny."
 

"Luv, you fucked someone who's still completely in love with you, called him someone else's name, and he couldn't have enjoyed it because he was probably trying to keep his bloody soul," Spike replied, then burst into another fit of laughter.
 

"Oh my god, I forgot about his soul!" Buffy exclaimed. She climbed out of the bed and yanked the IV from her arm, heading for the door in her hospital gown, slipper socks and underwear. Spike saw her cute behind through the gaping gown and snorted loudly, tears now steaming down his face from laughing too hard.
 

He pushed himself to his feet and went after his determined Slayer. "Pet, I don't think you want anyone looking up your name and address," he said, shedding his duster and putting it over her shoulders as she hurried down the hall.
 

"What?" Buffy asked, her face screwed up in total confusion as she tried to figure out what he just said. This caused Spike to start laughing yet again. She rolled her eyes and continued through the automatic door to the waiting room.
 

"Buffy! What are you doing out of bed!" Joyce scolded, rushing to her daughter's side.
 

"Angel," Buffy said, ignoring her mother and heading straight for the vampire, black coat fanning around her. She stuck a hand in the pocket and retrieved the stake that she knew would be there. Spike was always prepared.
 

"Buffy, what are you doing up?" Angel asked as the petite Slayer came over towards him. He looked up over her head and saw Spike looking like he was going to bust a gut any moment.
 

"I need to know," Buffy said as she waked right up to him and pressed the stake against his chest.
 

"You remembered what happened?" Angel asked.
 

She nodded, studying his eyes. "Did you lose your soul again?" she asked quietly.
 

"Buffy, the only way to guarantee that I wouldn't be lying to you if I said I did would be to stake me now," he responded. He covered her hand with his, aiming the tip of the wood at his heart. "Do it."
 

Instead of becoming a pile of dust as he expected, she smiled and threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad I didn't cause you to lose your soul again," she said. Only the real, soul filled Angel would rather die than hurt her or any of her friends.
 

"Uh, would anyone like to clue in the rest of the peanut gallery?" Xander spoke up, staring at them, as were the others, in confusion. "Like why Buffy would think Deadboy would lose his soul again?"
 

Spike snorted and bit his bottom lip a he tried to stifle his laughter. He met Angel's gaze and smiled. "You couldn't even enjoy it, could you, mate?" he asked maliciously.
 

"Couldn't enjoy what?" Willow asked.
 

"Oh my god," Cordelia said, looking between Angel, Buffy and Spike. "Angel said that Buffy was drunk and under a Leprechaun's spell that made her think he was Spike."
 

"So?" Xander said.
 

"So, what do you think a drunk Buffy did with Angel for her to be asking if he lost his soul again?" Cordelia said exasperately. "Geez, people. Get a clue."
 

Buffy blushed, Angel would have if he could, and Spike laughed agin. The others just stared gape mouthed at the Slayer. "I didn't know it was Angel!" Buffy protested, gesturing wildly. That was a mistake as the pain from her broken ribs and surgery shot through her body. She moaned loudly and wrapped her arms around her waist.
 

Spike was at her side in an instant and lifted her into his arms, the leather duster falling off her shoulders to lay over his arm. "Back to bed with you, Slayer. I want you to get better so you can do to me what you thought you did to me last night," he said, grinning at her.
 

Buffy blushed again as everyone chuckled. As he carried her past the automatic doors, she touched his cheek tenderly. "I'm sorry, Spike. I didn't mean to hurt you."
 

"It's ok, pet," he replied, carrying her to the room and settling on the bed with her in his arms. "Neither of us are at fault for our actions."
 

"Have I ever told you how different you are from Angel?" Buffy asked.
 

"I should hope so!"
 

"Let me finish, you dork," she scolded. "He would have been brooding and guilt ridden, pushing me away because of what happened, no matter who's fault it was."
 

"Well, I'm a demon. I don't feel guilt," he bragged.
 

"Liar," Buffy said.
 

Spike smiled down at her. "You bloody well know it."
 

She sighed, then frowned. "You know, I really want to hurt the Leprechauns that did this to us."
 

"Um..."
 

"What did you do?"
 

"I sort of drained her while we were having sex," he confessed.
 

"Humph," Buffy replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hope she left a bad taste in your mouth."
 

Spike chuckled, understanding that she wasn't going to be mad at him for having sex with another woman. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?"
 

"Yes, but you can tell me again," Buffy answered, grinning up at him.
 

"I love you, Buffy."
 

"I love you, too, Spike."
 

"Ahem." A nurse cleared her throat loudly from the doorway. "What are you doing back here? Family only."
 

"I am her mate," Spike told the nurse, squeezing the Slayer lightly around the waist.
 

"Her what?" the nurse replied skeptically.
 

"Her husband is what you mortals call it," he clarified, glaring at the woman in pink scrubs. "So, if you don't mind."
 

The nurse looked thoughtfully at the two for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, not too much longer, though. Visiting hours are over at six."
 

After she left, Buffy looked up at Spike with huge eyes. "You're my what?"
 

"Slayer, you are my mate. Husband and wife are the closest terms that mortal's have for what the claim means," he explained. "Didn't Angelus give you a ring when he had his claim on you?"
 

"Yeah, a claddagh ring," Buffy said.
 

"Irish wedding band," Spike told her.
 

"So you mean I'm basically a divorcee on her second marriage," she giggled. "And I'm only 18!"
 

Spike smiled. "Close enough, pet," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Which reminds me, where's your anklet?"
 

"In the bag in the closet," Buffy replied.
 

Spike scooted out from behind her and went to where she indicated. He returned a few moments later, silver chain in hand and winked at her. "Leg please."
 

"You're saying please, now?" Buffy joked, as she uncurled her left leg and extended it towards him. "What happened to the crude vampire I know and love?"
 

"Funny, Slayer," he said, attaching the hook. The dark green stones and diamonds twinkled under the hospital lighting. "There, much better that a bloody ring any day."
 

Buffy laughed lightly. "Definitely. If I wore a ring, my mom would flip because she would think that I was really married. Human married."
 

Spike looked up at her. "And would that be a bad thing?" he asked, somewhat hurt.
 

"No! I didn't mean..." Buffy looked back at him and frowned. "I only meant...I mean... it's not going to happen, so it doesn't matter. No one would dare marry me."
 

"Sure of that, aren't you, Slayer?" Spike said, turning on his heel and walking out the door.
 

"What..." she trailed off as he left, completely confused. She propped up the pillows behind her and leaned back. She heard a knock at the door and saw Giles standing there. "Hi, Giles."
 

"Buffy," Giles said, coming into the room. "Where is Spike?"
 

"Don't know," she replied. "He just left."
 

Giles sat down on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"
 

"Like someone jumped on my chest," Buffy answered, giving him a wry smile.
 

"I also meant emotionally," he clarified. "Spike did attempt to-to-to end your life..."
 

"Giles, it wasn't his fault. He didn't succeed, and I'm not going to hold it against him. It's not like he lost his soul and did it on purpose," she said. She closed her eyes and groaned. "I still can't believe I had sex with Angel and didn't even know it."
 

"Yes, well, er...I find that a bit disconcerning, as well," Giles said. "I am rather glad he did not lose his soul again."
 

"Ditto," she replied. She took a deep breath and sighed. "You're going to have to search for any more leprechauns and break the spells they cast yesterday. I kinda screwed up on that assignment."
 

"It is alright, Buffy," Giles said. "No one is perfect. Especially not you."
 

"And the Watcher makes a joke at the Slayer's expense," Buffy smiled. "I'm so proud."
 

Giles returned her smile. "I shall be going now. I have to see about getting lodging for everyone for the remainder of the week, as well as calling them off of school."
 

"Have fun," she said. "And tell mom to go with you. Visiting hours are over in a few minutes, anyway, so there's no use hanging around."
 

"Very well," he said, standing. "I'll see you tomorrow."
 

"When you come to spring me," Buffy hinted strongly. Giles chuckled, said goodnight and left.
 

Part Eight

"There you are," Buffy said as Spike re-entered the room. "I was afraid you were going leave without saying goodbye." She frowned at the three people who came in behind him.
 

"I would never do that, luv," he said, moving to her side.
 

"Hello, Buffy," one of the women who came in with Spike greeted. "I'm Louisa."
 

"Um, hi," Buffy replied, looking at Spike in confusion. He smirked at her.
 

"Are we ready to begin?" Louisa asked.
 

"Yes," Spike said, taking Buffy's hand.
 

"Ready for what?" Buffy hissed up at him. His lips curled up in a devilish smile and winked at her.
 

"William Brody, will you have this woman to be your wife; to live together in marriage. Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to her so long as you both shall live? If so, answer, "I will."
 

"I will," Spike answered. Buffy's mouth dropped open in shock as Louisa went on.
 

"Buffy Summers, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in marriage. Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to him so long as you both shall live? If so, answer, "I will."
 

Buffy looked at the woman dazedly and Spike bent down to whisper in her ear. "Say, ‘I will,' pet."
 

"I will?" Buffy said questioningly.
 

"Having this love in your hears, you have chosen to seal your vows by the giving and receiving of rings," Louisa said, nodding to Spike. "William, take your ring and place it upon the third finger of Buffy's left hand and repeat after me this promise saying: ‘With this ring, as a symbol of my love and devotion, I thee wed.'"
 

Spike picked up Buffy's left hand and slid a simple, gift store bought ring over her finger. "With this ring, as a symbol of my love and devotion, I thee wed."
 

Buffy swallowed heavily, looking into his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. *Oh my god, he's really doing this. It's real. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,* she thought as he pressed a ring into her hand.
 

"Buffy, take your ring and place it upon the third finger of William's left hand and repeat after me this promise saying: ‘With this ring, as a symbol of my love and devotion, I thee wed.'"
 

She looked down at the ring Spike had put in her hand. It was a matching band to hers. She shakily took his left hand and pushed the ring on his finger. "With this ring, as a symbol of my love and devotion, I thee wed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
 

"Now that William and Buffy have made promises of faith and devotion to each other, before us as witnesses, I pronounce that they are husband and wife. William, you may kiss your lovely bride," Louisa declared, a large smile on her face.
 

Spike tilted Buffy's chin up and looked her deep in the eyes. "I love you, Buffy," he whispered, then pressed his lips softly to hers.
 

Buffy's breath caught in her throat and her heart hitched, skipping a beat as reality crashed down upon her. She suddenly wrapped a hand behind his head and held him to her, deepening the kiss.
 

"They are so cute," one of the witnesses commented as she signed the bottom of the marriage certificate the hospital pastor passed to her.
 

"Love is in the air," the other witness said as she signed as well. "Even if it does smell like cleaning solution."
 

Buffy heard the woman's words and broke the kiss with a small giggle. Spike smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. "Why?" she asked him quietly as she accepted the clipboard and pen from one of the witnesses. She affixed her signature as she waited for an answer.
 

"No one offers a dare that I can't meet," he replied, giving her another wink before taking the items from her. He signed his name as well, then handed them to Louisa. "Thank you."
 

"You are quite welcome, William," Louisa replied. "I love doing marriage ceremonies."
 

The three women left after Louisa signed and notarized the certificate just as the announcement came that visiting hours were over. "Well, luv, I hate to get married and run," Spike said, handing her the certificate. "But I'm hungry and nurses taste too sterilized." He gave her a hard kiss on the lips, shot her a cocky grin, and sauntered out the door, duster in hand.
 

"But...but...a dare!" Buffy yelled after him. "Spike, you dirty, rotten, blood sucking...thing! Get your undead ass back in here!"
 

She could hear his laughter echoing in the halls.
 

"Hi, Buffy," Willow said, bouncing into the room the late the next morning.
 

"Hey, how did you get in here?" Buffy asked, clicking off the television.
 

"They're letting you go home today, so I'm here to help you get ready," she replied, pulling the bag of clothes out of the closet. "Your mom is checking you out."
 

"You make it sound like I've been staying in a hotel, rather than the hospital," Buffy said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The paper that was laying across her lap fluttered to the floor. She bent to pick it up, a smile lighting up her whole face.
 

"What's that?" Willow asked, setting the bag on the bed and pulling out the clothes.
 

"Um...well," Buffy said, giving her a strange look. "It's a dare."
 

"A dare? What kind of dare?" Willow said curiously. "Is it a hard one? Are you going to do it?"
 

"It's already done," she replied. Then, it hit her. She was married! Buffy began to chuckle, then laugh as she handed the paper to her best friend.
 

Willow read the certificate, her eyes widening. "This is...this is... Buffy! You got married! To Spike!" She began to jump up and down. "This is so cool! My best friend is married!"
 

Buffy fell back onto the bed, clenching her sides as she laughed. "Oh, god, Will. I can't believe it myself. He just came in last night with Louisa..."
 

"Louisa?"
 

"The pastor," Buffy explained. "And next thing I know, I'm married!"
 

"Eeee!" Willow screeched excitedly. She flopped on the bed next to her friend. "Oh! Where are you going to live? Are you going on a honeymoon? You haven't even graduated yet! I wonder what Snyder is going to say..."
 

"Knock, knock," Joyce said in the doorway. "You're free, honey."
 

Buffy lifted her head and looked at her mom. *Oh, crap,* she thought. *What am I going to tell mom? Thanks for lunch mom, oh by the way, I got married last night.*
 

"Buffy? Are you ok?" Joyce asked, coming further into the room.
 

"Mom, I got married," Buffy said rapidly. "Last night, to Spike, now I'm Mrs. William Brody. Are you mad?"
 

Joyce stared at her daughter like she'd grown a second head. They weren't in Sunnydale, so that really wasn't a possibility. "M-Married?"
 

"Um, yeah?"
 

"Oh," Joyce said. "Oh." She turned and walked out the door.
 

"That went well," Willow said, looking over at the blond Slayer. Buffy snorted, then they both started to giggle.
 

Dressed and riding in the required wheelchair, Buffy joined her group of friends in the hallway outside of ICU. "Hey all, looks who's up and rolling."
 

"Hey Buffster," Xander said. "How does it feel to be a free woman?"
 

Willow snickered, then buried her head on Oz's shoulder. Buffy looked over at them and saw Oz giving her a small grin. Her eyes traveled to her mom, who was looking like she was lost, then to Giles, who was looking everywhere but at her and finally at Cordelia, who was smirking. She groaned. "I take it you all heard."
 

"Heard what?" Xander asked.
 

"Yes, your uh, mother told us," Giles said.
 

"Told us what?" Xander said.
 

"Shocked, aren't you?" Buffy said. "Me, too."
 

"I guess congrats are in order," Oz said, coming to her and kissing her on the cheek.
 

"Yeah, congratulations, Buffy," Willow said, hugging her.
 

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?!" Xander exclaimed, looking from person to person exasperately.
 

"Buffy and Spike tied the knot," Cordelia informed him. "Now, she's Mrs. Evil Dead."
 

"Hey!" Buffy said.
 

"WHAT?!" Xander yelled.
 

"Buffy married Spike last night," Willow said. "Isn't it neat?"
 

"Are you crazy? Spike? Deadboy, Junior? Peroxide fangs?" Xander said incredulously.
 

"Xander," Buffy said. "As my husband would say, bugger off."
 

Xander sputtered as her other three friends laughed. Giles looked over at Joyce and gave her a small smile. "She is such a strange girl," he commented.
 

"You know, I absolutely agree with you," Joyce replied, shaking her head wearily. "And now, as King Richard would say, I have an outlaw for an in-law."
 

"Honey, I'm home," Buffy called as she walked through the door of Angel's home.
 

Angel looked up from the couch where he was reading and gave her a small smile. "Hi, Buffy."
 

"Hey, Angel," she greeted. "Where's that man of mine?"
 

"Right here, Slayer," Spike said, coming out of the guest bedroom and scooping her up in his arms. She squealed in delight as he spun her in circles. He stopped as suddenly as he started and kissed her long and hard.
 

"Wow," Buffy breathed when she was allowed to come up for air. "I'll have to get married more often if that's the kind of greeting I'm going to get."
 

"You're guaranteed that kind of greeting for as long as you live, pet," he replied, kissing her nose.
 

"Buffy, Spike?" Angel said, climbing to his feet. "Did I just hear you say you got married?"
 

"You heard correctly, Angelus," Spike answered. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have a honeymoon to start." He turned with Buffy still in his arms and walked to the guest bedroom, closing the door with his foot.
 

Angel stared after them with a shocked look on his face. He sank heavily onto the couch. "Married?"
 

Buffy giggled as Spike lowered her on the clean bed. "Slayer, I want you."
 

"So take me," she smiled seductively at him.
 

He groaned and held her tightly, his lips mashing against hers. Their tongues met, dancing together as he ran his hands down her body, pressing his arousal against her leg. His hands stroked up and down, finally lifting the shirt off her body, followed quickly by the rest of her clothing.
 

She lay totally naked before him, his blue eyes devouring her as she reached out and pulled off his shirt. She ran her fingers lightly over his muscled chest, down his taunt abdomen, then opened his pants. She pushed them off his hips and his stiff erection hit her in the leg.
 

Spike stood and removed his Doc Martens and jeans, then spread Buffy's legs and lay between them. His fingers parted her silken folds and he purposely blew a breath of air at her already throbbing clit. Then, he kissed each lip before pressing his mouth against her, his tongue probing inside of her. She squirmed her hips, delighting in the feel of his talented mouth.
 

He took his time, wrapping his arms around her thighs and holding them close to his head. Buffy moaned as he began to suck on her clit, flicking it rapidly with this tongue, then moving his jaw in a repeating pattern. Soon her moans became frantic gasps as she came closer to the edge. Spike freed one arm and reached under his chin to thrust two fingers inside her.
 

Buffy cried out his name as her entire body shook in orgasm. Over and over, like rapid-fire explosions, she came, bucking against his face. He held her down with one arm as he drew out the orgasm until she was limp in pleasure, panting heavily.
 

Spike gave her one final kiss on her clit, then scooted up her body, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Buffy could taste herself as their tongues met again, dueling for dominance. He pulled back, practically kneeling between her legs and spread her vaginal lips apart, then slowly eased himself in side her, being very gentle and tender.
 

It seemed to take forever for him to bury his cock entirely inside her. Buffy was growing impatient and wanted to pump her hips up against him frantically, but he moved his hands to hold her hips still. "Easy, luv," he chuckled. "I'm going to make this last."
 

Buffy shivered as his voice caressed her senses, jolts of anticipation running down her spine. He began taking slow, long strokes, watching her under heavy lids. Little by little, he increased the tempo, causing her pant with each hit of his pelvis against hers. He was making her climax grow slowly and gradually toward a resounding crescendo. Within a few minutes, her hips were bucking frantically in his hands as she fell over into the abyss, shrieking and quaking with the intensity of her second orgasm.
 

As her orgasm subsided, Spike shifted his hips into overdrive and began to pump into her good and hard. His cock shot rapidly in and out of her, sliding easily and rapidly with the wetness from her juices. He bent forward and wrapped his arm under her waist, holding her hips up as he plundered her mouth with his tongue.
 

Spike held her pelvis at just the right angle to hit her clitoris with each thrust. She didn't think she could climax again in short amount of time, but she was wrong. Buffy ripped her mouth away from his as she screamed out in pleasure as she came again, her muscles clamping around his hard shaft. He growled loudly, his face shifting as he exploded, shooting his cold seed deep with in her as he buried himself to the hilt. He sank his fangs into her neck, the hot blood running down his throat as he shivered in ecstacy.
 

He shifted so he wouldn't put his full weight on her, removing his canines and licking the side of her neck. He raised his head and looked down into her pleasure filled, hazel eyes with his yellow ones. Buffy's lips curled into a feminine smile, and she lifted her head to gently kiss him. When she pulled back, his handsome, human mask was back in place and he smiled at her.
 

"I love you, Buffy," he said quietly. "Don't ever forget that."
 

"I won't," she replied just as softly. "And don't you forget that I love you, either."
 

"You are my soul, Buffy Summers Brody," Spike told her. "And I will never forget. Unless another bloody leprechaun casts a spell on me."
 

Their laughter mingled together and traveled out behind the closed door, causing Angel to sigh. "Congratulations, Spike," he said to the empty living room. "You married the woman I'll love for eternity. But if you hurt her, I will destroy you." He heard more laughter and looked over at the closed door. *Slowly,* he thought, then grinned evilly.
 

*And with lots of pain.*