Xander sat up abruptly, gasping for breath. It felt like someone had thrown several buckets of ice water over him all at one time.

“What the hell was that?” he gasped. Anya rolled onto her back, the sheets of the bed riding low on her hips, and stretched languidly.

“Molotovicallphallangina Aphrodisiac spell,” she mumbled sleepily. She could feel the after-effects of an extremely pleasing set of orgasms deep in her muscles. There was a reason those things were so popular.

“Oh.” Xander looked around, trying to get his bearings. There’d been the whole Scooby slumber party that had been going great until Spike had crashed. Spike! Xander felt the familiar anger bubbling up in him. Spike had done this! Spike had ruined their night of nonhellmouthy fun, and put them all under this this this lust spell! Spike was trying to do something…like use the lust spell to get into Buffy’s pants! Well no Siree Bob, not on Xander Harris’s watch! Xnder swung his legs out of bed, wincing when his feet hit the floor. His bed was a bit taller than this. Xander took stock of his surroundings, a confused frown on his face.

“Anya? Are we in Buffy’s room?”

***

“This…this is quite unseemly. I-I-I do not know what to say,” Giles fumbled, cleaning his glasses against his rather wrinkled shirt. Well, his undershirt. He had no idea where his collared shirt was. Or his jacket, for that matter. And Joyce was just standing there, looking at him with inscrutable eyes.

“Twice.”

“I…beg your pardon?” Giles asked. His brow furrowed in that look that meant he was trying to work through a very complicated problem but running into a dead end.

“Twice. Well…actually, more than twice. WAY more than twice,” Joyce babbled, sounding (disturbingly) like Buffy for a moment. “It’s just…what are the chances of…THAT, THIS…happening twice?”

Giles stared at Joyce, his eyes wide and slightly scared.

“I don’t understand—“

“Don’t give me that, Rupert Giles!” Joyce said in her best mom voice. She fixed Buffy’s watcher with a disapproving gaze that had him shifting uncomfortably and avoiding her eyes. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Yes, well…” Giles trailed off. “I would hardly hold anyone accountable for their actions under a spell. The subversion of free will is paramount, a-a-and—“

“When you’re quite done talking out of your ass,” Joyce interrupted firmly, looking every inch as much a Slayer as her daughter, “you know where to find me.”

With a final appraising look—that Giles was sure he’d been found wanting—she wrenched the door open and went to find out what mayhem the children had gotten themselves into THIS time. She barely even paused when Xander and Anya shuffled out of Buffy’s room, looking sheepish.

***

He was wrapped up in Buffy, filled with her scent, her warmth, her beauty. She was perfection; she brought peace and purity to a tumultuous world. Her whispered words echoed in his mind. Love me. And he would. For the rest of his life, he would. He had no doubt of that.

She gasped and arched beneath him, her muscles clenching around his member, drawing him further into the inviting heat between her legs. He felt something cold wash over him, but Buffy’s heat quickly drove it away.

“Oh, Buffy,” he whispered reverently. He felt the fluttering that signaled her release, heard her mewling wordless plea for release. Without thinking, he vamped and struck, biting the side of her neck and drawing blood to the surface.

“Spike!” she screeched as the world fell down around her, shattering into a million delicious pieces. Her muscles clamped around him. He let himself go, tumbling after her into the pleasant abyss. Gods, what this woman could do to him!

Spike collapsed on her panting for breath he didn’t need, trying to fight his way back to consciousness through the sexual haze around him while prolonging the feeling for as long as possible. It was an odd conundrum, one the sex-haze was winning. But, sacrifices must be made.

Buffy sighed in contentment, feeling the weight of the man draped over her. This…this was heaven. Who knew Spike would be this good? Spike. Spike? SPIKE!

The spell-induced memories hit her with a brutal, crushing force. Her brain was screaming at her, and she tried desperately to get away from it. No no no no no no no no NO! This was not happening! This…this couldn’t…it was so unfair! Buffy winced when she fell off the bed and onto the floor with a thump and scrambled backwards, only stopping when she ran into the wall. Not again.

She curled into herself, her arms banding around her legs, trying to make herself as small as possible. Anger, despair, loathing, and an intense sadness washed through her. Why did this keep happening? To her? It was some cruel cosmic joke, she was sure.

Her emotions in turmoil, Buffy did the only easy thing left. She dropped her head and cried.

***

He was truly and completely lost in her. His body was slack with release, and he could taste the salt of her sweat against her flawless skin. He never wanted to move ever again. Buffy. His Buffy. And suddenly, he was shoved aside and she was frantically trying to get as far away from him as possible.

What the hell?

Spike shook off the last of his haze and watched Buffy scramble across the floor, her face slack and eyes wild. What—reality came crashing back with force. Bugger.

It had to be another spell. There was no way Buffy would have slept with him if she’d been of sane mind. The tingling in his mouth, the delicious taste of her that still lingered on his tongue sent him reeling. FUCK. The memory slammed into him, harsh and unforgiving. He’d claim her.

His eyes were glued to the distraught girl, so small on the floor, completely unaware of the magnitude of what had happened. He could feel her anguish, her disgust and loathing through the bond. It stung, and Spike quickly blocked it out before it overwhelmed him. How could he have been so royally stupid? And what the hell had possessed him to do such the thing? Spike made no allowances for the spell, no excuses. He’d done something unthinkable, and without Buffy’s consent. He’d claimed her.

He watched her for a moment, sobbing on the floor, his heart breaking. Every wall he’d ever built, every wall that had been forced around his heart came crashing down around him. It hurt. It hurt so bloody much it felt like his chest was going to explode. Keeping one eye on Buffy, Spike dressed silently, waiting for some sort of sign that his ma—Buffy wanted him there. Closing his eyes, he opened their link just a little, but it was enough to know that he wasn’t needed or wanted here. So with one last, lingering look, he slipped out the door and out of the house with none the wiser. He had a date with a man named Jack.

***

Dawn came to with a groan. Again, there were people yelling and screaming around her, which really wasn’t pleasant when you had a migraine. She groaned loudly, waiting for someone to notice her. She cracked an eye open, but no one was paying her any attention. So she moaned. Again, nothing. She sighed in irritation.

Xander was blushing a deep red and standing as far away from Anay as he could without Anya getting mad that he was too far away. Willow was babbling at Tara with her Apology Face, and Joyce was alternatively raging at Giles, who looked flabbergasted, and Xander, who was turning purple he was blushing so much. Anya was being…Anya. It was so time for the big guns.

“Mommy?” Dawn whimpered, pitching her voice at the perfect octave for maximum effect. And the effect was immediate. Everyone stopped talking and all eyes were riveted to a whimpering Dawn.

“Oh, my poor baby!” Joyce cried, flying over to the couch. Dawn whimpered once for good measure, and then again for real when her mother jarred her aching head. Not all of it was acting. “What happened?”

“She did the spell without the Molotovicallphallangina Protection Pendant,” Anya said helpfully.

“I did what?” Dawn asked skeptically.

“The SPELL,” Anya said slowly. “You-did-the-spell—“

“Yes, we got that part, Anya, thank you,” Giles said waspishly, cleaning his glasses off. “What KIND of spell were we under?”

“Oh, it’s a simple, harmless Molotovicallphallangina Aphrodisiac spell,” Anya said indifferently. She glanced around noticed all of the blank looks she was getting. While that was Xander’s usual facial expression, it was not for the others. “It a spell commonly used by the Molotovicallacopis Demon to put the spark back into relationships. It reverts you back to your sexual prime, which for them is about thirty-five years old. Also makes you really horny and gives the men much more stamina than average, guaranteeing orgasms for their female partners. The female of the species is sexually ravenous when she goes into heat, so it usually takes at least two males to—“

“Thank you, Anya,” Giles said wearily.

“You’re most welcome!” she said happily. She wondering if she should mention it was also a fertility spell. But no, Giles had stopped her, so he obviously knew the rest. Or wasn’t interested. Being human was so difficult sometimes.

“Why wasn’t I affected?” Dawn asked with a frown. Typical, she was always left out.

“The spell either thought you weren’t sexually mature or you haven’t passed your prime yet. Or you could have been affected a little, but there was no suitable mate around so you just sort of were in limbo. The Molotovicallacopi are great spell weavers, they have all sorts of nifty safeties built in. But it’s a good thing you weren’t affected, they can take a very long time to wear off.”

“What do you mean there was no suitable mate?” a new voice asked. Buffy stood behind them, her body language closed and her eyes puffy. It was obvious she’d been crying, and her hair was mussed. Anya knew exactly what that meant, and in an uncharacteristic flash of intuition, answered the question Buffy was really asking.

“They’re not an extremely monogamous species. They tend to cast these spells for harvest and other fertility rites. Part of the spell encourages you to find the most…compatible person for you. But it doesn’t change anything. What’s there is there.”

Joyce chanced a glance over at Giles, who was looking a little ashen. She could tell that Anya’s words had struck him. A small sniffling sound came from her eldest daughter, and Joyce decided that enough was enough; they could deal with all of the consequences of this latest debacle tomorrow.

“Alright, everyone. It’s—“

“Anya…did you say fertility rite?” Xander asked in a small voice, his eyes wide.

“Yep! Part of the spell is to stimulate the receptiveness of both parties.”

“Oh. OK.” And with a smile, Xander fainted dead away.

***

Joyce watched as Giles lugged Xander down the stairs and drive away with Anya. She was going to have to do something about that man. Tomorrow. Tonight, she had to have a chat with her eldest daughter.

She found Buffy sitting on the couch, staring into space, and clutching her shirt tight around her throat. She looked sad and pensive, a look that did not suit the Slayer well.

“Help me clean up?” she asked, smiling softly at her first born. Wide, confused eyes stared blankly at her. Oh yeah, this was a job for mom.

“Mommy…” Joyce wrapped her arms around her sobbing child, giving the comfort that only a mother was capable of.

“Oh, honey. Come on, you can tell me all about it over some chocolate, OK?” Buffy nodded silently, trying to reign in her raging emotions. Mom was here, she’d make it all better.

Joyce let Buffy clam down as she heated some milk and mixed up some good old fashion hot chocolate.

“He left,” Buffy whispered, almost too low for Joyce to hear. But she winced, knowing exactly who Buffy had to be talking about, and what must have happened. Though she wasn’t exactly in a position to throw stones. “He was just…gone. And I was so c-confused and…it’s not fair!”

Joyce placed the hot chocolates down on the table, and covered Buffy’s hands with her own. The dam seemed to break, Buffy’s walls collapsing as she sobbed out the whole story. The spell, the words, the poetry, the sex, the biting—which gave Joyce a moment for pause, but she knew without a doubt that her little girl was safe with Spike, regardless of the circumstances—and the moments after where Spike had disappeared.

“And it’s not fair!” she concluded, and Joyce resisted the urge to slap her thick-headed daughter upside the head. Then again, she’d have to do the same to Spike because for a relatively bright man, he had certainly screwed this up royally. But Joyce sighed and decided that the old fashioned route was a better idea.

“Buffy, maybe the spells are trying to tell you something,” Joyce ventured, taking a sip of her no luke-warm chocolate.

“W-what?” Buffy asked, her head popping up off the table.

“Well, like you said…you feel happy and alive and loved when you’re under the spells. But only the ones that let you get close to Spike. You’ve been under plenty of other ones. You don’t feel happy because of the spells…you feel happy because of Spike.”

Joyce watched patiently as her daughter began processing that information. First was the flat out denial. So like her father. Then came the no way part, followed by the could it be, then the no vampires are evil line of thinking that she was going to smack Giles for later, and then all of Buffy’s carefully constructed notions about the world collapsed in on themselves, leaving just a young girl head over heels in love for the wrong boy. But she wasn’t crying anymore.

“Spike’s a good man, honey. Why don’t you think about it for a little while?”

“Mom!” a voice screeched from upstairs, breaking their mother-daughter moment. Buffy smiled wanly, but she seemed better off than before.

“Duty calls,” Joyce said with a smile.

“What happened to my room?!” Joyce’s smile abruptly left her face, a look of mortified horror crossing her features. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

“Mom?” Buffy asked, her nosed scrunched up. She was staring intently at something. “Is that a hickey?”

“AAAAHHHHHHHHHH! There’s underwear on my lamp!”