And so you could feel regret on an island paradise, Spike found himself musing as he woke up in the guttering firelight, before dawn and, more importantly, before Buffy, the next morning.

She’d snuggled up into his arms, tucked against his chest, her head pillowed against his heartbeat.

He cataloged his sins. First, as sexual encounters went, it had not been earth shattering. They hadn’t been so deliriously drunk that it became a blur, nor had they been sober. Second, and worse, he hadn’t exactly been in control. Sex had happened to him, as much as he’d been orchestrating their caresses.

For all the countless hours he’d spent fantasizing about making love to the Slayer, when it came down to the act, he’d just went along with the currents, like any regular Joe.

So for the Night Before, he gave himself a C. Maybe a C minus.

But what about this morning?

Truth told, it was a bit of surprise to feel regret sneaking up on him, like some chump standing in divorce court realizing he should’ve brought th’ missus flowers now and again, that they should’ve given it another try, ‘least for the sake of the tots.

And really, until she pried open her lids, he was just making up the consequences, wasn’t he?

With a sigh, he relaxed into the pile of blankets and pulled her closer.

***

They’d trailed him to the Video Barn. He donned a navy blue vest sporting a “Warren” nametag and bright plastic clownfish pin reading “Pre-Order Finding Nemo today.

“If I had to wear that to work, I’d be knocking off armored trucks, too.”

“Shh, Xander.”

It was early in the morning, but Video Barn was a 24-hour establishment, and with Sunnydalers’ preference for the morning hours, they were doing a brisk business by 6 a.m.

Warren yawned.

“So, what’s the plan, ladies?”

Anya and Willow exchanged a glance.

“There’s no plan?”

“Not exactly …”

“No, no, Willow. We have a plan. I go talk to him.”

“That’s not a plan, Ahn.”

“Sure it is,” she replied. Without a backwards glance, Anya opened the car door and marched into the Video Barn.

***

Buffy woke as the first light streaked across the morning sky. She didn’t want to be awake. She was warm, and snuggled closer into the comfortable arms that circled her body.

A hazy memory startled her. She was sprawled across the torso of her mortal enemy. Spike. The evil undead.

Except that the steady thump, thump, thump gave the lie to that protest. To say nothing of the sun spilling across their bodies.

She murmured and pulled in closer, her hand skating across his chest, and then lower.

“Mornin’ love.”

Buffy purred, listening to his familiar, butterscotch voice. “Good morning.”

“So you’re not … you’re okay?”

With a wriggle, Buffy flipped over to straddle him. “Never better.”

“Oh.”

“Except that I don’t have any clothes.”

“Oh, well … see …”

“I’m just kidding.”

“So you remember?”

“’Course. Do you?”

“Do I?”

“Maybe I should refresh your memory.” She slipped down his body, pausing to flick her tongue against his left nipple, drawing little circles inside his thigh with her fingers before reaching up to guide his cock into her mouth.

Buffy had read that it was really hot if you kept eye contact while you gave a blow job. Not that she was Queen of the BJ or anything. Nope. In fact, this was the first time she’d remembered that Cosmo 13 Bedroom Secrets To Set Your Sheets Afire tip.

She wished she had lip gloss.

And then she realized, with a grimace, that Cosmo never said anything about blowjobs on the beach, probably because of the sand factor.

“Everything okay, pet?”

“Ummm …” Buffy tried to discretely wipe the sand from her tongue, but in a second she’d given up and pulled a face. “Water!”

A bottle appeared in her hand, and she took a deep mouthful, swished and spit.

When she looked down at Spike, he’d gone half limp and was staring at her with part disappointment and part shame.

“Oh – sand.”

“Sand?”

“Sand in my mouth. From your, um – in my mouth.”

“Oh. Well. Okay. That makes sense.” His cock twitched, reassured.

“Do you wanna maybe …”

“Yeah.” He leapt to his feet, extended his hand to help her up, and they quickly headed for home.

***

“Can I help you?” Warren approached Anya’s figure from the back.

She turned and pinned him against the video rack with a stare, the make-up she’d hastily applied. “Can you ever.”

“Do I know you?”

“Maybe. I’m Anyanka.”

“Anyanka?”

“Vengeance demon.”

“Vengeance …”

“Demon.”

“What … what did I … I mean, I didn’t … Wait. You’re Xander Harris’ girlfriend.”

Anya’s compsure flickered for a second. “Yes. But that’s my private life. I’m on the clock now.”

“Well, I didn’t venge anything.”

“No. But one of your little Unfug friends did. Help me find the Unfug, and you’re home free.” She grabbed his Nemo pin and pulled.

“I don’t … I don’t know any Unfugs.”

“We can do this the hard way or the hard way, Warren.”

“I …”

“Talk or the fish gets it.”

“What?”

“The fish, geek boy.” Her eyes scanned the room. “Or that big ol’ cardboard Luke Skywalker? I’ll blow him to bits.”

“You can’t. That’s an original cut-out from the first ever video release of Star Wars in …”

Anya smirked.

“Fine. I have a name – Ber’Lethe. And a hotmail account.”

“I’ll take it.”

He hastily scribbled down the information, then held it back for a minute. “Once I give you this, what are you going to do?”

“Me? Nothing.” Anya grabbed the paper from his hand, then headed for the door. “But the Slayer when we get her back? No promises there.”

***

They’d made it back to the shower.

He was restrained.

“Come ‘ere,” he’d coaxed, drawing her close to wash her back with bath gel spilled liberally on a poufy sponge.

Her back, and then her front.

Every inch of her skin had been kissed, and her nipples were hard little points. She’d never balanced on the edge like this before, never been so aroused without her lover acting on it. But Spike was weaving this spell, this trance. She’d had good sex before, knew how to have an orgasm. Craved that release, even, enough to try it by herself at home. But this intensity of lust was brand new.

Hadn’t even known it was on the market.

Now Spike was washing her off, directing the shower jets in all sorts of delicious, muscle-soothing ways. But she was still strung like a bow.

With no alternative assault, Buffy pitched herself into his arms, capturing his mouth for a kiss, ignoring the shower spray drenching them both as she pushed him into the tile.

They’d broken apart to breathe, and he’d moaned.

“I think - ” she’d started.

“Don’t think,” he countered.

“The bed, Spike. The bed.”

With a glance he confirmed that the bed was still there – not bigger or closer or bluer – and guided her to it.

***

“This is pretty interesting,” Anya nodded, looking around the abandoned warehouse. “Kind of like Antiques Roadshow.”

“More like Antiques Freakshow,” Xander scoffed.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, um, I’m here to purchase some alt-re products. Actually, I’m hoping to commission a special alt-re experience. For me and my – lover.”

The scaly green demon quirked his single eyebrow and sniffed.

“You’re human.”

“So?”

“We don’t-”

“Yes, you do. I was told to ask for Ber’Lethe.”

“Ber’Lethe.”

“A friend recommended …” Anya paused, realizing Ber’Lethe’s gender was a mystery. “A friend recommended Ber’Lethe.”

“Stay right here.”

***

She slipped down his body, still damp from the shower, pausing to push her wet hair away from her face. Slowly, Buffy wrapped her lips around his throbbing cock, and never breaking eye contact, began to suck.

“Slllaaayer …”

Her tongue dipped out and circled the head. “Don’t call me that.” With a downward glance, she returned her mouth to his skin.

Involuntarily, his hips thrust up to meet her, forcing more of his cock in her mouth than she’d have taken on her own.

She didn’t recoil, just stilled and adjusted, taking a little more with her next thrust and slowly quickening her pace.

“Buffy!”

Her tongue found his most sensitive spot and hit the thick vein on every stroke. His breath caught in this throat, and all of a sudden he understood how intoxicating it could be to make love in human form.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy … I can’t stop … can’t stop … don’t stop …” And with a strangled cry, he spilled into her mouth.

***

Willow rooted around in the stockroom, silently counting out the seconds, hoping that Anya and Xander could cause enough of a distraction. She needed the right spell book to have a chance of rescuing Buffy.

Fortunately, the workspace was organized, and while it didn’t exactly follow that they’d manufacture and vend under one roof, they’d reasoned that if Unfug spells were unstable, chances are that they’d be mixing them up on the spot.

A crash sounded in the showroom, and Willow realized her time was up. She grabbed three huge volumes and shimmied back out the window they’d pried open.

The answer had to be here. She couldn’t let Buffy down again.