Pre-'Becoming', Buffy and Spike duke it out in a ghost town saloon. Throw in a lasso, a mechanical bull, an acid-spewing sewer beast, top-shelf whiskey and a Journey song, and the sex just writes itself... "Get a load of you, all slay-kittenish, taking on a pubful of nasties in your Friday night best. Hunting for new bedmates, are we? So soon after the last?" / She pursed her lips and squeezed her stake, fingers itching to wipe that smirk off his face. "I asked you first."

Was Little Miss Do Right having Very Wrong thoughts?

Watch the top shelf, Buffy... How else will you numb the pain?

Either the whiskey goggles had set in quick, or she was a bit of all right...

Buffy had officially entered Oppositeville, population two. She was 1) getting into a Journey song and 2) completely naked before her arch nemesis. Well, except for the boots.

If anyone had told Buffy that she'd be spending this or any Friday night on her knees in a trashed demon bar, fervently deep-throating the world's most notorious threat to slayerkind, she probably would have hurt that person. A lot.

This was the greatest porno he'd ever seen -- and he was the lucky co-star. He might cry.

Play with fire and you're bound to burn down a saloon...

Wasn't the recurring wet dream of being mauled by a sarcastic jungle cat enough?