Spike closed the iron door on his crypt, sending dust and dirt swirling from the draft. He looked around the room. There were ends of candles on random shelves, the stone sarcophagus blanketed in a layer of dust, and wooden crates pushed up against the stone pillars. The place could use a good cleaning. Or a woman’s touch.

He thought about that for a minute as he descended down to the lower level. He stopped at the foot of the ladder. The last woman who kept house in his crypt was Harmony.

‘Harm. It took weeks to get the bleedin’ pink off the walls.’

His bedroom was in no better shape. He pushed empty bottles of bourbon out of the way, reaching for the last bottle in his liquor cabinet. The sheets were ripped beyond repair. ‘Maybe I should get Clem in ‘ere to clear out the pad,’ he thought as he poured his last shot of Kentucky bourbon into a small glass. ‘Maybe I should get the slayer in here.’ He thought about that for a second. The slayer just helped make his place into a tornado of clothes and broken furniture. ‘Maybe the lil bit could help. I’m sure she’s into the whole interior decoratin’ thing.’ Dawn was always up to hanging out with Spike since the slayer started working at that neon-colored, meat processing fun house.

“Well I can’t leave now to find the little one,” he said, smelling the dawn permeating through the stone walls. “Might as well take a nap.” Spike threw the sheets back and kicked off his Doc Martens onto the floor.




Buffy was fighting back the sunlight from entering her eyes. She moaned in displeasure as her alarm clock joined the assault on her senses. She smacked the digital annoyance off of her nightstand. Seven A.M. She’d only fallen asleep three hours ago. She grumbled as she pulled herself out of bed and to Dawn’s door. “Dawn. Time to get up,” she said as she languidly knocked. She heard Dawn stir inside the room. She went downstairs to the kitchen to put out the cereal for breakfast. There was a bag of Doublemeat Palace food left out from last night. She knew that Dawn was getting tired of the greasy food, but Buffy wouldn’t be getting her check for another two days. They would have to make do with freebies for this last stretch before they could afford groceries.

“Sugar Smacks please,” Dawn said entering the kitchen. She was a little bubblier as the days went on. Buffy said nothing about her choice of breakfast, finding it a pointless battle with a sixteen year old. She put away the trash left out and tied the bag up.

“Take these out when Xander comes to pick you up for school,” Buffy said, pointing to the trash. “I’m going to take a shower before my shift.” Luckily she had about a two hour break after her shift and her patrol. “Maybe we can make dinner tonight when I get back from my shift?”

Dawn shook her head. “Sorry Buff, I’m going to Janice’s to work on our project for English. Her mom’s making dinner though, so you shouldn’t worry about me,” Dawn said through a mouthful of Sugary Smacking goodness.

“Alright then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Buffy said, heading out into the hall. She could hear Willow upstairs as she ascended the stairs.

She walked into her bathroom and started the faucets. She discarded her pajamas and stepped into the warm spray, closing the shower curtain around the tub. The warm water slid over her tired muscles. As she shampooed her hair, she thought of her last patrol. Three normal vamps getting the dusty end of the stake early in the evening and then nothing for the rest of the night. She was really looking for something to kill. The vamps were child’s play- she could have let Dawn out to do her dirty work even.




Of course, if she did that, she never would have gotten to stop by Spike’s. She followed the scent of his cigarette smoke back to his crypt, only to arrive and find him sitting on the stoop waiting for her to arrive.

“’Ello love. What’s your game- business or is this just a social call?” the vampire asked through drags on his cigarette.

“Spike, were you waiting for me?” Spike raised his eyebrow at her. “Cause I was just on patrol and was wondering if you killed any vamps tonight.” She hoped her excuse sounded cool and didn’t hint at the fact that she was hoping he was there.

“Not a one. It’s too chilly at night. Fewer people to snack on. They’re all inside in their comfy warm beds, not parading the streets like a bleedin’ buffet.” Spike looked at the slayer, noticed how neat and clean her black boots were. “Slow nights come and go I suppose. Is that all you wanted from me, slayer?”

Buffy hesitated. “I’m, uh, tracking a vampire who has a calling card of some sort. Doesn’t appear to be local.”

“What sort of callin’ card?”

Buffy stepped closer to Spike. She paced for a bit, and then sat down on the stoop next to him. Spike visibly shifted and Buffy could hear him swallow. “Well, uh, the victims…”

“Yea? Bites in the neck are standard fare for a vampire, love.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I dunno, I just expected for them to be in a horrified state and not so neat. I found one that looked like they were asleep.”

“Maybe they were.”

“In the middle of the street?”

“Okay…maybe not. But contrary to popular belief, some of us aren’t all about the blood and gore.” Buffy gave him a look. “Well, scratch that part about the blood. Maybe it was a girl vampire. They tend to be more with the feng shui.”

“Hmm…maybe.” Buffy said, trying to sound uncertain. In reality, there was no vampire. Buffy just needed a reason to be at his crypt after a boring patrol when she should be at home, catching up on her sleep.

Spike threw his cigarette into a nearby bush. “So do you want to come in?” Buffy gave him a look that said “I’m-all-business”. “For a drink maybe? You don’t seem to be in a big rush home to check on the nibblet.”

Buffy couldn’t fool Spike. “Alright, but just one drink.”



One drink became four, and quickly Buffy found herself yammering on about work.

Spike was amused by the Slayer and her tipsy behavior. Her stories of work were humorous enough, but it was funnier to watch her mess up on simple words.

“I hate working the grease traps. It’s all…blubble…and, and, and spitting and…bad odors.” Buffy said, drooling over every word. She sniffed her coat. “Yuck! It’s still on me!”

Buffy stumbled to her feet, trying to remove her leather coat. Spike smirked at her fumbling about. Buffy finally threw her coat down.

“I have defeated you, coat!” she announced triumphantly before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Oh boy, I’m a little drunk.”

“Ah yes, the drunken nature of the Slayer,” Spike said, rising to help Buffy back to her seat. Buffy got caught up in her discarded jacket and her drunken state. She fumbled around a bit until she misplaced her weight and ended up in Spike’s arms. “Pet, you alright? Don’t get sick on me, black doesn’t go well with vomit.”

Buffy struggled to retain her balance. “I’m not sick, just…” Buffy tripped over her loosened boots and landed in Spike’s arms again.

He chuckled as he held her upright. “Ah, see now, pet, this is where I’m not one for babysitting.” Spike dragged her to the foot of the bed and sat her down. Buffy whimpered as he removed her boots. “Now, now, I’m just making you more comfortable. I won’t mention your striped toe socks either.” He looked down at her brightly colored feet.

“Laundry day,” Buffy said, falling back against the sheets. “Besides, they’re…” she didn’t get to the end of the sentence before she nodded off.

Spike was at a loss for words. Here, in his bed, was his ultimate fantasy. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was lying in his bed, completely vulnerable. He could do what he wanted to do for years- to sink his jaw into her neck and drink deeply. But as he looked at her limp frame, her golden hair, and her slim hips encased in her leather pants…a new hunger arose in him. He hadn’t touched her since the night in the abandoned house. This urge was different.

She turned her head as he removed her rainbow socks. Spike hesitated- angry slayer was not on his list of meet and greets tonight. She sighed slightly as he unbuttoned her leather pants. Easing them down her legs was another challenge, but he managed without stirring Buffy awake. White cotton briefs. The sight was driving him mad. He pressed his thumbs on the inside of her knees.

Buffy shifted in her sleep, her legs spread slightly, giving Spike a good view of her cotton-covered crotch. Spike wasn’t sure what to do next- removing her shirt would surely wake her. He placed one hand above her pelvis. He could feel her heat emanating through the flimsy cotton. It was taking all of his strength to keep from jumping on her. He traced the length of her cunt with the tip of his index finger. He could see her arousal seeping through the fabric.

Buffy wasn’t asleep any longer, but she didn’t want Spike to know that.