Disclaimer: Not trying to make any money, just playing with Joss Whedon’s toys.
For those who have stuck with the story so far, you will be rewarded with some Spuffiness in this chapter. Reviewers rock!
 
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Chapter 5: Nightfall
 
As they left the Magic Box, Xander found himself in desperate need of a beer. “Let’s get some dinner and then go for a drink at the Bronze,” he suggested.
 
Anya hesitated. “Dinner out gets pretty expensive. We should save our money so our savings will get bigger. We can eat at home.”
 
“Look, I had a long day, and I just feel like going out and relaxing, ok?” Xander snapped. I’m sure Tom’s wife never gives him this much argument over every stupid thing.
 
“Fine,” sighed Anya. “But can we please go someplace not too expensive?”
 
They settled on a pizza place, even though Xander was getting a little sick of pizza. But Anya insisted that they could only spend thirty dollars maximum on dinner, and pizza was the only thing that fit her newly developed budget. Xander started to order sodas to go with the pizza, which Anya had limited to one topping, but Anya interrupted and said, “We’ll just be having water, thanks.” The waiter shrugged, and went to the kitchen.
 
“What’s up with you today?” Xander asked. “You’ve been obsessed with amassing a fortune all day. Where did this all come from?”
 
Anya realized that she wasn’t exactly sure what had spurred the need to increase her wealth. But to Xander she said, “I know you worry about money sometimes. But I think if we really save every penny now, and put it in the bank, it will grow, and then we won’t have to worry. And if I can get Giles to use my ideas to get more out of the Magic Box, then it will grow even quicker!”
 
“So, we save this huge pile of money. Then what?” Xander wondered.
 
“Then we use some of it to buy a house, and keep saving the rest!” Isn’t it obvious?
 
Just then the door of the restaurant opened and in walked Tom, Xander’s supervisor, and his wife Jenny. She was dark haired, pretty, and glowing with her pregnancy. Great. Here comes Mr. Perfect and the Stepford Wife, he said to himself. Tom saw Xander as he passed the table and said, “Evening, Harris.”
 
“Hi Tom,” said Xander. “Do you remember Anya?”
 
“Of course, nice to see you,” said Tom.
 
“You must be getting close to the end of your pregnancy,” Anya observed. “You’ve gotten pretty large!”
 
Jenny blushed a bit. “Actually, I’m just five months along.”
 
“Wow. You’ll probably be as big as a car by the time the baby comes,” Anya observed.
 
Jenny was clearly not enjoying being reminded of her weight gain, but was too polite to say anything. She smiled a thin smile and said, “Well, we’re going to go have dinner. Nice to see you again.”
 
“See you Monday, Harris,” said Tom shortly, guiding his wife away to an empty table.
 
“What did you have to go say that for?” barked Xander.
 
“What do you mean?” Anya was genuinely confused. “I thought it was polite to inquire about someone’s pregnancy.”
 
“But not to call them fat!” Xander said accusingly.
 
“I didn’t call her fat!” said Anya indignantly. “Just because I thought she was farther along doesn’t mean I said she was fat!”
 
“How long do you have to be human before you start acting normal?” Xander exploded, drawing a curious look from a nearby couple. Embarrassed, he continued in a lower voice. “I really envy Tom. Must be nice to be able to go out with someone who actually knows how to behave without having to be told what to do every five minutes.”
 
Anya was crushed at Xander’s cruel statement. “How can you say that to me? I’m doing my best! I can’t help what I was for all those years!” She bit back tears as she stood up. “If I’m such an embarrassment to you, then I’ll just go. See you later.” With that she turned and left, hurt tears starting to fall down her face.
 
The rest of the patrons were all staring at Xander, some shocked, some snickering. With his face burning red, he threw down some money to pay the check and left the restaurant as quickly as he could. His car was still there, but Anya was nowhere to be seen. “Anya!” he called. The street was nearly empty, and he heard no reply. Damn her! And damn all them too. Everyone in town seems to be able to have a nice, normal relationship and nice normal friends. I get the Slayer, a couple of witches, and a demon girlfriend who doesn’t know how to behave in public. What did I do to deserve this? He got in his car, slammed the door, and drove to the Bronze, cursing the whole way.
 
When he got there, he went in and ordered a beer, sitting at a table in the corner by himself to drink it. He watched the swirling crowd, his frustration growing. He sometimes wondered how he had managed to be born in California, the land of the perfect people. Everyone he saw in the crowd was a better dancer than him, had better clothes than he did, and seemed relaxed and at ease with themselves. Even the bartender seemed to be enjoying himself, joking with customers and flirting with the pretty girls. He sulked for a few more minutes, then mentally slapped himself. What the hell is my problem? I’ve got a good looking girlfriend, a steady job, and a roof over my head. What do I have to complain about? He finished his beer, and left. Need to go home and see if I can patch things up with Anya.
 
Anya had stomped angrily out of the restaurant and had practically run back to the apartment. Xander is damn lucky I haven’t got my powers any more, or he’d be in a world of hurt. She was tired of being ragged on about her social skills. Pardon me for having grown up 1000 years ago in another country! How the hell am I supposed to know? Humans are too damn sensitive anyway. Still fighting tears of rage and hurt, she unlocked the apartment door and slammed it behind her.
 
She thought about just packing her things and leaving. But as she was heading for the closet to grab her suitcase, she changed her mind. No. I’m not going to leave and let him have all the money and things we’ve gotten together. She started looking around the apartment. She gathered all the loose change and spare bills she could find, tied it into one of Xander’s socks, and stuffed it under the mattress as far as it would go. Then she started making a list of things they had bought together: the dining table, the lamp in the living room, the coffee maker, the television. Tomorrow I’m putting all this stuff on eBay. Once I get it all sold, then I’m out of here.
 
After finishing her list, she went to their bedroom, shut the door and locked it. She got into her pajamas and slipped into bed. As she gradually started to relax, she wondered if she was overreacting. Xander has been cranky all day. Maybe his mouth just outstripped his brain again, as usual. She tossed and turned. Did she really want to throw this all away over a little argument? She had to admit that her brain usually jumped straight to vengeance without considering other possible outcomes. I’ll deal with it in the morning, she decided. Let him stew for a night. Maybe then he’ll appreciate me. Otherwise, he’ll find he’s missing the extra cash I bring in next time he wants to go out somewhere. She drifted off into a troubled sleep.
 
Xander came home soon after, opening the door softly. “Anya?” he called. There was no answer, but he thought he heard a faint snoring from the bedroom. He went to the door and found it locked. “Anya?” he repeated, a little louder. So no trouble sleeping I guess. Figures. Doesn’t really need me. No one seems to. Wallowing in self pity, Xander kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the couch fully dressed. Maybe she’ll talk to me in the morning. He lay there for a long while, imagining all the other couples he knew, happily snuggled next to each other, while he tried to get comfortable on his couch. I hate my life, he thought, and finally fell asleep as well.
 
**********************
 
After a long afternoon of lovemaking and a shared shower, Tara and Willow made their way over to the Magic Box. Willow’s stated purpose was to ask Giles some questions about a few of the spells she had been looking over. Secretly, she really wanted to find a way to show off some of her newly learned spells. If I could just show him what I can do, I’m sure it would open up all sorts of new possibilities for fighting Glory and other baddies.
 
The two witches ignored the ‘closed’ sign on the door and went in to find Giles sitting at the table, doing research. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly.
 
“Hey, Giles,” said Willow, looking around. “Anya and Xander leave already?”
 
“Yes. Xander wanted to go out for dinner or some such thing,” said Giles offhandedly.
 
Dinner, thought Tara. “That reminds me, are either of you interested in Chinese takeout for dinner?”
 
“Maybe in a little while,” Giles responded. “I’ve been trying to determine if there is some magical way to track Glory, so we can know when she’s on the move.”
 
“I was trying to modify a locator spell earlier to do that sort of thing,” Willow offered. “It didn’t really work, but I think that’s because I was tired and wasn’t concentrating. I should try it again.”
 
Giles looked up, slightly alarmed. “Willow, spells aren’t like cake recipes. You can’t just try substitutions to see what works. You could have injured yourself or someone else.”
 
“I wasn’t just substituting anything at random,” Willow responded indignantly. “It’s not like I just opened a spell book and picked the first chant that looked good. And nothing happened!”
 
Tara raised her eyebrows at Willow, surprised at the barefaced lie. Willow noticed her look and backpedaled, “Well, ok, the map did catch fire. But it was no big deal.”
 
Giles sighed. “Willow, you are becoming an extremely powerful witch. But if you don’t learn to tame and control your power you’re like a seven year old with a box of matches. I must insist that you stick to established spells and only use them when necessary.”
 
Willow rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s just drop it. What are we working on now?”
 
Giles looked sternly at her for a moment, then started showing her what he had been reading. After about ten minutes of conferring, Tara stood up. “I’m going to order that Chinese now. Any preferences?”
 
Willow looked up. “I’ll have something in the cashew chicken family,” she said, bending back over the books.
 
Giles clearly was more interested in research than food at the moment. “Whatever you get will be fine,” he said offhandedly.
 
Tara found the menu and number of the local Chinese place in Giles’ office. She was nearly salivating as she read through the list. How can I choose? It all looks good. Finally she settled on Kung Pao chicken, cashew chicken, beef lo mein, eggrolls, vegetable fried rice, and something called Buddah’s delight. She called in the order, and then went back into the other room, to find Willow and Giles in a heated discussion.
 
“All I’m saying, Giles, is that there is a faster way to find information!”
 
“But are you sure that this spell isn’t going to harm you or the books?” Giles questioned. “Some of these books are rare editions and irreplaceable!”
 
“Giles, trust me!” Willow said. Then without giving the Watcher a chance to say anything further, Willow started muttering the words to a spell. “Show me the wisdom I seek!” she finished.
 
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a number of heavy volumes flew off the shelves, straight at Willow and Giles. “Willow! For God’s sake! OW!” Giles sputtered and cursed as one of the heavier volumes clocked him in the back of the head. Willow too shielded her face against the rain of books as the shelves practically emptied themselves at her. After a five minute long torrent of paper, the books stopped flying and the shop was still once again.
 
“Ugh,” groaned Willow. She had fallen to the floor and was half buried under a mountain of texts. Tara, who had been glued to the floor in shock, now rushed forward to help her.
 
“Are you ok?” she asked, helping Willow to her feet.
 
Giles too was staggering to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. “Willow, as I was trying to tell you, spells like that need to be focused. You apparently seek magical wisdom of all kinds, because you just pulled the whole bloody library down on our heads!” he shouted, utterly annoyed at her failure to listen.
 
“Sorry, Giles,” Willow mumbled in a small voice. “I was just trying to help.”
 
“Then help by picking up this mess!” Giles was an extremely patient man, but he had just about had enough of Willow at this point. What do I need to say to this girl to get through to her?
 
“No problem,” Willows piped up. Then muttering yet another spell, the books levitated, more slowly this time, and returned themselves more or less neatly to the shelves. “See Giles! I can do the spells, I just need some practice on some of them, that’s all.”
 
Giles’ irritated reply was cut short by a knock at the door, which turned out to be the delivery guy from the Chinese restaurant. Tara paid him and lugged the enormous bag of food over to the now clean table.
 
“Goodness gracious,” said Giles. “Are we expecting the others to join us?”
 
“Well, I couldn’t decide between a couple of things, so I figured we’ll just have some leftovers,” Tara explained. Giles’ shook his head slightly, then went to get some paper plates and silverware from his office. They dug in, turning the conversation to other topics to defuse the situation.
 
“Buffy was in here earlier working out and seemed extremely agitated about something. Did either of you notice anything unusual last night?” Giles inquired.
 
Both witches shook their heads. “Dawn was being a bit whinier than usual last night, but I can’t think of anything else in particular,” said Tara, as she polished off her plate and reached for seconds.
 
“Hmm,” Giles mumbled. “Well, I suppose she’s under a bit of pressure lately. She probably has a right to be a little on edge.”
 
“Define ‘a little on edge’,” said Willow, curious.
 
“She kicked the heavy bag lose from the ceiling and clear across the training room,” Giles responded.
 
“Ouch,” said Tara. “Could she still be upset about the whole Riley thing?”
 
“I’m not certain,” said Giles. “She hasn’t mentioned him particularly since he left. Our conversations have mostly been about Glory. I know she’s worried about her mother’s condition as well.”
 
“She’s under a lot of stress, Giles,” Willow remarked. “It’s probably not a sign of impending doom if she needed to work off some steam.”
 
Giles finished his eggroll and sat back, thinking. Willow was probably right. But there seemed to be some nagging suspicion in his mind that he couldn’t shake. He shook his head briefly, and got up to clear his place.
 
Willow finished as well, and likewise got up to throw things away. She noticed the sign on the ‘Enchanted Love Candles’ and paused. “Giles? Are all these candles the same?”
 
“They should be. Why do you ask?”
 
Willow looked at them closely. “Some of them seem to be a slightly off color. I wonder if some other candles got mixed in. If they’re just plain candles that’s fine, but I thought you had some others designed for specific spells. People might get some interesting effects if they mixed the two.”
 
Giles looked more closely at the candles. Sure enough, some of them were different. “Anya was in a ‘sell everything that’s not nailed down’ mood this morning. Maybe she stuck them in there.” Giles removed the odd candles, resolving to have a long discussion with Anya in the morning.
 
“The dance of capitalist glee strikes again?” joked Willow.
 
“With a vengeance,” Giles agreed. He turned to Tara and asked, “We can put the leftovers in…” He stopped, and boggled a bit at the sight of Tara finishing the last of the food.
 
Tara blushed, and covered a small burp. “Umm, it seems there are no leftovers.”
 
Giles was flabbergasted. “I say, haven’t you eaten today?” Giles and Willow had each had one plate of food. Tara had managed to polish off every last remaining crumb. Even Buffy, whose appetite was legendary given the amount of energy she burned off in the line of duty, could not have eaten that much in one sitting.
 
“I don’t know, I guess I was just extra hungry,” shrugged Tara. Although now that you mention it, I have been a complete pig today.
 
That nagging feeling was back in Giles’ brain. Buffy, Anya, Willow, Tara – they’re all acting a bit odd today. He had heard that women who worked together a lot sometimes had their monthly cycles synch up with each other. Perhaps that would explain it. It all bears watching, I guess.
 
Tara had finished clearing up the remains of dinner, and they started getting back to research. For the most part the three of them read and took notes quietly. But Giles found that Willow was casually levitating books toward herself, instead of getting up for them, levitating her pencil off the floor when it dropped, and at one point turning pages without touching them. Finally he said, “Willow, I must insist that you stop doing that!”
 
Willow looked up, puzzled. “Doing what?”
 
“You need to stop using magic for mundane things. You should reserve your power for when it is truly needed. Magic can be somewhat addictive, and can get out of control.” Giles said sternly.
 
“Giles is right,” Tara agreed. “You can end up losing control of the power and hurting yourself or someone else.”
 
“What is this, National Lecture Willow Day?” Willow retorted. “I’m not hurting anyone, I’m just making the research go faster!” I guess I am getting a bit of a headache, come to think of it, but that could be from anything.
 
Giles took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “But the research isn’t going any faster. We’re getting nowhere, and I think we should call it a night.”
 
“Are you ok, Giles?” Tara asked, concerned.
 
“I’m fine, but it has been a long day, and I am in no mood for an argument right now,” Giles replied. Truthfully, I’ve had my fill of moody young women today.
 
Willow looked hurt. “I was only trying to help,” she grumbled, packing up her things.
 
“I know you were,” Giles sighed. “I just get concerned about you. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
 
“I understand, Giles,” said Willow. “But I’m just trying to tell you that you really don’t need to be concerned about me. I’m getting much better at this, and I’m in control of it.”
 
“Even so, please just… consider the consequences of your spells carefully from now on,” Giles said. With that the girls said their goodbyes and left. Giles went into his office and threw himself into the chair, pulling out the scotch he had hidden in the lower drawer of his desk. He poured himself a stiff drink and leaned back. This lot will be the death of me, he thought as he tossed back the scotch and reached for a refill.
 
**********************
 
Joyce was completely exasperated by the time Dawn finally got out of the tub, a half hour after Buffy left. “So nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Joyce remarked.
 
“Sorry,” Dawn mumbled. She sat down and helped herself to the now cold spaghetti and sauce. Her mom got up to get herself a drink and Dawn asked, “Do you mind sticking this in the microwave for me?”
 
Joyce took the plate from Dawn and popped it in the microwave, but then turned to look hard at her daughter. “Are you feeling ok today, honey? You seem like you’re dragging.”
 
Dawn shrugged. “I feel fine, I guess. Just needed a day off.”
 
Joyce frowned and handed Dawn her plate. “I think I’m going to take your temperature after dinner anyway. You could be coming down with something.”
 
Dawn didn’t want her mom to worry. “Really, mom, I’m fine,” she said, making an effort to perk up and look livelier. “Tell me about your trip.”
 
Joyce filled Dawn in on all the things she had purchased for her gallery. Dawn finished her spaghetti, and thought about getting more, but didn’t feel like getting up to nuke it. She reached for some salad instead, prompting her mom to say, “Are you voluntarily eating a vegetable? You must be sick.”
 
“Ha, ha, mom,” said Dawn. She usually wasn’t big on the veggies, but it seemed the easiest way to get more to eat without getting up and without asking her mom to get up either. I think I’m raising laziness to an art form, she thought.
 
“Did you finish your history project?” asked Joyce.
 
Dawn swallowed and thought quickly. “N…not completely,” she admitted. “But I started it.”
 
“Define started,” said Joyce, knowing her daughter well enough to know when she was prevaricating.
 
“Well, I read a bunch of the stuff, and started an outline,” said Dawn with what she hoped was a winning smile.
 
“I see,” said Joyce. “How about after dinner you bring all that in the dining room, away from the TV, and get something done?”
 
“Okay,” grumbled Dawn. She finished her dinner and got up to go fetch her books.
 
“Ahem,” said Joyce, pointing at Dawn’s dishes. “Did we just move in yesterday, or did we forget the ‘clear your place’ rule?”
 
We just didn’t feel like it, thought Dawn. Sighing, she stalked back to the table, grabbed her dishes, and placed them in the sink. Seems like a lot of wasted effort to do all this stuff if mom is standing right there. She got her books and plunked them down on the dining room table. Joyce looked in on her for a few minutes while she got herself situated, then turned to the dishes.
 
Dawn opened her books and started writing. Average age of a soldier in the trenches was 21 years old. A lot of the trenches were in France. Lots of mud, disease, poison gas. Sounds like a swell time. Not. She actually managed a whole 20 minutes of work on her outline before she drifted off again. She found herself just staring into space. What’s the point of this anyway? I mean, aren’t there diaries of these guys out there already? If you wanted to know what it was like you could go read one! That gave Dawn an idea. I know they have that sort of thing at the library. If I get one of those, I can use it for ideas. Then I don’t have to spend all this time thinking it up.
 
The thought that she could find something to work from tomorrow inspired her to pack up for the night. She got up and stretched, yawning like she had been digging ditches all day. Joyce came in and marveled at her daughter. “You can’t be done already?” she said.
 
“No,” Dawn replied. “But I realize that I need one more source from the library tomorrow before I can write this. I’m missing some information.”
 
“You have five books there already, and you need more?”
 
“Yeah, some of these focus more on the tanks and stuff than the soldiers,” Dawn said. This was not entirely true, but she hoped her mom wouldn’t read the books to find out.
 
“Ok, but that does have to get done early tomorrow,” said Joyce. “What are you going to do now?”
 
“I was going to watch a movie or something.”
 
“Well, I guess it is Saturday night,” Joyce conceded.
 
Dawn plopped herself back on the couch and clicked through channels until she found some romantic comedy. Joyce sat down next to her and they enjoyed the movie together. When the movie was over, Joyce yawned. “I’m going up to bed.”
 
Dawn thought that sounded like a good idea, but the couch was soooo comfy. ”I think I’ll watch a little more before I come up,” she said, stretching out full length now that she had the couch to herself.
 
“Ok, lazybones, but don’t stay up too late,” said Joyce, kissing her goodnight.
 
“Night, mom,” said Dawn, before beginning to channel surf once more. Dawn was about ten minutes into the next show when she fell asleep, utterly content to be completely inert.
 
Joyce got ready for bed, worrying slightly about both of her girls. I really hope Dawn isn’t getting sick or something. We don’t really need more sickness around here right now. And I do hope Buffy manages to figure out what’s bothering her today. Joyce looked at the clock and frowned. It was getting late, and although Buffy was usually coming and going at all hours, she still worried.
 
******************
 
Buffy was having the most productive night of slaying she could remember. After taking out the nest of vampires, she had started to prowl the campus, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. She was disappointed in that she only found one vampire out stalking college girls. He was dressed as a member of Tau Beta Phi, and was trying to get one of a group of girls to come with him. Buffy sauntered up, said, “I’m interested” in a sultry voice, and led him around the back of the frat house, where she promptly beat the crap out of him before staking him.
 
She got up and brushed her hands off, sighing at the blood staining her boots. Normally, this wasn’t a problem; she was all ‘stake and go’. But tonight she just felt so… angry. She found herself needing to watch the vampires noses bleed, listen to their bones crack and watch them curl up into the fetal position as she kneed their groins. When did I turn into a sadist? She continued across the campus, meaning to hit another cemetery or two before she went home. She passed by Lowell house and scowled. Can’t believe that bastard cheated on me with fucking vampire whores. Creep. She wished she had kicked his ass while he was there, rather than chasing after him in that helicopter, calling his name. Good riddance.
 
She paused for a moment in her stalking and fuming. She knew she was irritated and unhappy with the whole Riley situation, but where was this rage coming from today? She had to admit that she was ripping through Sunnydale’s demon population with a ferocity that was completely unlike her. She was a little concerned. What if I lose my temper and end up hurting someone I care about? Maybe I should try meditating or something like Angel used to do.
 
She found that thought triggered another whole train of thoughts behind it. Angel. Mister Leave-for-your-own-good. Well, except when he wants to spy on me because I clearly can’t take care of myself. All that broodiness – gah. Who needs that? She continued stalking toward the remaining cemeteries, lost in her own angry thoughts.
 
Upon entering Restfield cemetery, she looked around for any vampire activity. She was rewarded by the sight of a fledgling erupting from his grave. She got there after he had already emerged, and started in with her usual, “Hi! Welcome to Sunnydale!” But this fledgling was large, and rather energetic for some reason. He turned on her and attacked, causing her to leap out of the way. She relished the fight, and found herself prolonging it, tripping him, toying with him, and making him think he had a chance. But then at some point he got in a good kick and knocked her back against a headstone. “Ow!” she yelled. “That fucking hurt!” She got up, absolutely furious, and stopped playing around. She rained such a flurry of blows and kicks on him that he reeled, not knowing where the next one was coming from. She tackled him to the ground, landing squarely on his crotch before pounding his face into a bloody pulp. Finally, she took out her stake and stabbed him about five times in his chest, just for spite, before finally hitting his heart and dusting him.
 
As she sat there, panting, she felt the prickles on her neck that meant another vampire was coming up behind her. She waited for a moment, then whirled and launched herself at the figure behind her. “Oy! Slayer! It’s me!” said a familiar voice.
 
Buffy found herself lying full length on top of Spike, who was flat on his back with his hands up, wincing in pain. “Spike?” said Buffy, still on top of him. “What are you doing here?”
 
“I’m on my way back to my crypt,” he spat out. “Now can you please get off my bruised ribs?” And damn if I’m not getting a hard-on again with you writhing about on top of me.
 
“Sorry,” said Buffy, hastily getting up. She stepped back as Spike, groaning, hauled himself to his feet. “What did you tangle with?”
 
An angry crack whore, he thought. But he figured that answer would probably not be the best thing to say to the Slayer, so he went with, “Someone who disagreed with me.”
 
“Well, next time, don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have dusted you.”
 
“Yeah, I saw how quickly you dusted that last guy,” Spike observed. “Do you usually torment your prey like that?”
 
“What do you mean, torment?” Buffy snapped. Then she stopped. “I’m doing it again. I’ve just been totally pissed off all day long, for no reason.”
 
“Just don’t take it out on me, love,” he said. He was standing close enough to her to smell her slight arousal. Slayer always does get turned on by a good fight. He wondered if he could use that to his advantage tonight. The interrupted shag with Raven did nothing to reduce his out of control horniness. “Any particular reason you’re in such a foul mood?”
 
“If you say it’s because of Riley, I swear to God I will dust you,” she growled. “If I stop grinning like an idiot for five minutes, someone brings him up.”
 
“Well, maybe you need someone to help take your mind off Captain Cardboard,” said Spike in a low voice.
 
“Excuse me?” Buffy said indignantly. “Do you ever stop running your mouth?” At the same time, she became aware that she was in her usual post-slayage state of arousal. Usually the feeling wore off by the time she walked home, but Spike had interrupted her cool-off period.
 
“I’m just saying, love,” purred Spike, moving slightly closer. “I know Slayers. I know their… needs.” He ran his hand lightly down her arm.
 
Buffy slapped his hand away angrily. “Who do you think you are, Spike?” she yelled. “Besides, you’re forever making all these suggestive comments, but you have no intention of doing anything about it. It’s just another one of your ‘fuck with the Slayer’s mind’ tricks.”
 
Spike’s eyes flashed yellow briefly. “I’ll show you exactly what I intend to do about it,” he growled. With that, he grabbed her arms and pulled her into a kiss. Oh God, she tastes good. He nearly groaned as the pressure in his groin reached crisis proportions. Past dreams flashed through his mind as he probed her mouth with his tongue. That dream didn’t even come close to this.
 
Buffy pulled back after a moment, shocked. She stood there with her hand to her mouth, trying to figure out what had just happened. Spike stood there, panting, his eyes wide and smoking with lust. I should stake him now! But she was aroused and wanting, and it pissed her off that he could turn her on like that. If she staked him she was going back to an empty room and an empty bed, with nothing but her own hands for company. She wavered for a moment.
 
“More where that came from,” Spike whispered, moving toward her again. The bulge in his jeans was obvious, even in the dim light. Want you so bad, Slayer.
 
Buffy hesitated another moment, then grabbed his shoulders, kissing him back fiercely. Screw it, she decided. Parker and Riley seem to be able to get their rocks off and then leave whenever they damn well please. Why can’t I? Besides, I can’t think of anything that would piss off any of my exes more than screwing Spike. She clutched the back of his hair in her hands and scoured his mouth with her tongue.
 
Spike’s eyes widened with surprise, then he closed them and let the scent of Slayer fill his nostrils. Fucking amazing. He broke off the kiss long enough to pant out, “My crypt. Right over there.”
 
Buffy gasped and nodded. He grabbed her hand and they ran with their supernatural speed to cover the distance in seconds. The second they were inside Spike slammed the door shut behind him and shed his duster. Buffy dropped her jacket to the floor as well and they attacked each other’s lips once more. Spike’s hands were everywhere, loosening her jeans, unbuttoning her shirt, all the while grinding his rock-hard crotch into her.
 
Buffy started to pull Spike’s shirt up, but after about a second got frustrated and just tore it straight down the middle. She ran her hands down his sculpted chest and abs as she stepped out of her jeans. She fumbled with Spike’s belt until his hands joined hers, freeing his cock from its prison at last.
 
Spike scooped her up suddenly and laid her down on top of a sarcophagus. He tore her bra and panties off in succession, pushing her back to settle between her thighs. Buffy started to yell, “Hey! Those were expensive you bas…” Her curses turned into a groan of ecstasy as Spike’s mouth descended onto her clit.
 
Spike slipped his finger into her wet center, curling it to hit her g-spot as he swirled his tongue around her clit. Normally, he would tease a woman for ages before making her come, but today, he just couldn’t wait. He expertly zeroed in on all the right spots. Within minutes he felt her muscles contracting and heard her cries of pleasure as the orgasm hit like a thunderbolt.Fuck, Riley was never this good, she thought. How come that self-righteous prick never went down on me?
 
While she was still shuddering, Spike climbed up her body with lightning speed and entered her. “Buffy, shit Buffy you’re so fucking hot,” he babbled as he sank to the hilt into her dripping core. Buffy clawed his back fiercely as she met his thrusts, arching her back and pounding her hips into his. “Yesss,” she hissed, her nails drawing blood from his back. She clenched her muscles and Spike roared out his pleasure. He shifted and spread her wider, pounding her depths hard and fast. She felt another orgasm building and closed her eyes, moaning and throwing her head back.
 
At the sight of her beautiful neck stretched out before him, Spike’s demon came to the fore. As his balls tightened with his impending orgasm he reached down, held the back of her head in his hand, and sank his fangs as delicately as he could into her neck.
 
“Oh God!” screamed Buffy, her muscles squeezing him painfully. She jerked and thrashed as she experienced the most amazing climax of her life. As her sweet blood hit his tongue Spike roared again, screaming as he came. He thrust into her wildly, his mind shorting out in a wave of pleasure. He filled her with his dead seed as he drank deeply from her neck, the sweet release stretching out impossibly long for both of them.
 
With an extreme effort Spike finally pulled his fangs out of her neck, his human face falling back into place as he gasped and panted. Buffy looked up at him, eyes unfocused, panting and gasping as well. Then suddenly she shook her head and her eyes became aware, and furious.
 
“Fucking bastard!” she screamed, shoving him off of her with all her might. “You bit me! You fucking bit me!” She scrambled off the sarcophagus, moving into a defensive posture, wondering where her stake had gotten to. How the hell did he get that chip out? How long has he been free to feed?
 
“Now just a bloody minute, here,” Spike said, warily keeping between her and the pile of clothing that probably contained a stake or two. “Let’s just…”
 
Buffy launched herself at him with a flying side kick into his midsection. Cursing, Spike hit the ground, then lunged, grabbed her foot and twisted it, sending her flying. “Bloody hell!” he screamed, grabbing his head. If I ever get my hands on the bastard who came up with this chip they will never find all the pieces.
 
Buffy crashed into the wall. She shook herself and leaped to her feet, preparing to defend herself against the next attack. But then she noticed that Spike was staggering to his feet, clutching his head. “Your chip still works?” she asked, confused.
 
“Yes, it fucking works you stupid bitch,” he growled. Some corner of his brain registered that they were both still naked. Fighting Buffy naked. Now that would be a film worth seeing. He shook his head, trying to stay focused.
 
“How could you bite me then?” she wondered, edging over toward the scattered clothing.
 
“Probably because I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Spike snapped. “It’s called pleasing your sex partner. Thought I was doing a right good job of it too, until you freaked out on me.”
 
Buffy stopped for a moment. She had no response. It had felt good. Incredible even. She had had what she thought was good sex before, but this… This had been beyond anything she had ever experienced. And it utterly pissed her off that the author of this experience was the cocky, annoying vampire in front of her.
 
Buffy started snatching up her clothes. “If you even think about telling anyone about this, you’re going to think that what I did to that last vampire was merciful.”
 
Frustrated, Spike grabbed for his own jeans. “Who’m I gonna tell? The Scoobies’d stake me in a heartbeat and your mother is far too nice of a lady to hear that her daughter just shagged a vampire out of the blue.”
 
Buffy was stuttering in her rage. “I…? You kissed me, don’t you remember?” She threw her jacket on, glowering at Spike across the crypt.
 
“Not like you exactly slapped my face and defended your honor,” said Spike, smirking.
 
Buffy stalked over to him and searched his blue eyes for a moment. Then she reared back, punched him in the nose, and stalked out, slamming the door and leaving him swearing and clutching his bleeding face.
 
TBC