Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Buffyverse. All the characters belong to Joss, ME, and TPTB. I just borrow them for a little fun sometimes. :)


Chapter 1 -

The early morning sun rose high enough to penetrate the gaps between the dingy blinds. One golden ray shone bright and found its mark inside the stuffy motel room. Buffy groaned as the piercing light hit her eyes. She grabbed for the sheet snuggled around her waist and pulled it over her head. However, the 125 count sheets were no match for the mighty morning sun, so Buffy grumbled and slowly rolled over.

Which left her with an odd feeling.

Her forehead was pressed against something too cold to be a pillow, and well, too hard to be a pillow either. It felt kind of nice, but really not supposed to be there.

Her eyes fluttered open and focused on pale skin. Skin that was attached to a shoulder, that was attached to a body. She quickly sat up and groaned again as everything went blurry, while a sharp pang pierced through her brain. Buffy grabbed her head in both hands and slowly tried to get her bearings. The pain was searing, so she squinted just enough to take in the scene before her.

Buffy could make out platinum blonde tufts of hair poking out the top of the sheet, obviously connected to the body next to her.

Spike. And an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu.

*At least the building is still standing*

She slowly laid back down, as to not disturb the Mariachi band partying inside her skull. Buffy attempted to connect the dots that lead her to this - predicament. She remembered finding Spike in the club. Rescuing the girls. The trip to the hospital, and then the bar they ended up at later to reminisce, and of course, argue. What she couldn't remember was how she ended up in a motel room, with a massive hangover, and lying next to Spike. It was like half of the evening was one big, black hole.

An alarm suddenly went off in Buffy's mind *ow!*. The major achiness in all the good places, coupled with a rumbly tummy, and an earth shattering headache - pushed Buffy to make her next move. With much trepidation, she gently lifted up the sheet and peeked underneath.

'Oh, God!'

Apparently, she had let Spike climb Mount Buffy for old time sake. Hell, from the feelings in her nether region, he'd dug his flagpole in a bit more than once. Her cheeks began to flush as she realized she had been staring at said flagpole, a little longer than she should. She dropped the sheet and focused on the ceiling instead, trying to remember... something.

Anything.

It was all a complete blank.

"Spike?"

In that moment, the sun decided to spread its wings and take flight over the bed. The rays expanded and Spikes' shoulder started to sizzle like a steak cooking on a hot grill on a warm summer evening.

Instinct took over and Buffy jumped, pushing Spike with all her might off the edge of the bed.

"Spike!"

His body thumped to the floor.

"What the bloody???"

Spike jerked up and looked around. The covers were now off and he was sitting on the floor, in all his Mount Buffy climbing glory, when his eyes found hers. Then his eyes lowered to the mountain peaks he'd conquered the night before.

"Buffy?"

She crawled across the bed to bat at the smoke still rising from Spikes' shoulder.

"What the bleedin' hell are you... OW!"

"Saving your ass!" Buffy said, as she batted down the smoke.

Spike quickly, but gently removed her hand from his shoulder and glanced at the damage. "Not too bad."

"The sun hit you and you went all combusty. I figured the floor was better than flambe vampire. Oh, and yes, I'm Buffy." A sarcastic smile spread across her face.

Spike held on to Buffy's hand as he replied, "Obviously. Thanks for the rescue."

As he looked back up, her headlights blinded him once again.

"You're naked."

Buffy huffed, and jerked her hand from Spike's grip. "You were always one for the observiness...and like you don't know how I got that way."

Spike looked perplexed, and then looked down. "Huh."

Buffy threw him the sheet and wrapped the comforter around herself as she wiggled her way to the side of the bed to sit on the edge. "What the hell happened last night? I'm drawing a total blank here."

Perplex face back on, Spike looked around the room, trying to get a grasp of what had happened. "Not sure exactly. We were at a bar, and now we're here... don't know the rest."

Buffy jumped up, and scooted passed him to put a bit of distance between her and her ex-something. "You don't know the rest? Come on Spike, we didn't just materialize in this motel room. You brought us here."

He slowly started to stand up, sans sheet. Upon a second confirmation of his nakedness, he quickly snatched the sheet up and began wrapping it around his waist.

"Buffy, honest. I have no idea...." he caught sight of a bruise on his inner thigh and stopped mid-wrap. It was bluish-purple and in the shape of a hand? "although, I think we might have..."

Buffy drew the comforter tighter around herself, and hid her hands behind her back. Diverting all the attention away from Buffy paws.

"You think!?"

Spikes' attention shifted between intricately placed Buffy prints, rumpled bed, and then finally, back to Buffy. "Well, I think pretty damn sure covers it."

Buffy started to pace the floor. "You honestly don't remember anything? Please, Spike... I'm not mad, I'm just very, very, confused."

A now completely wrapped Spike sat down on the the bed. "You! Like I expected to wake up and find myself staring at your...your, well, that was kind of nice actually... but Buffy, I have no buggering clue how we got here."

She walked to the window and held open the blinds just enough to peek outside and not burn Spike, or his flagpole. Okay, at least she got the location down.

"The Bar, and your car, are across the street."

Spike looked over to her, and shrugged his shoulders. "Guess we walked."

Buffy turned away from the window and walked over to the bed. She sat down next to him, green eyes meeting blue.

"Guess so."

They just walked - to a motel - to have sex.

It wasn't exactly the explanation Buffy had imagined.

Not even close.

Seriously.

Who would have thought?

Three years is a long-time. Never in her wildest dreams did Buffy think she would be sitting here, next to Spike – on a bed, in some cheap motel room in Atlantic City. Not to mention, the obvious sex-capades they shared the night before.

No explanation, whatsoever, really.

'Buffy never drinks a lot. Buffy doesn't miss Spike. Buffy lives a happy life. Buffy doesn't need this right now. Buffy really wishes she could remember last night. Buffy couldn't believe she found him. Spike. Spike! Holy crap. Buffy just had sex with Spike...'

Her eyes broke away, looking down at her fingers which, completely out of her control, started drawing small circles on Spike's thumb.

How the hell could she forget that?

“What happened to us last night? I don't remember getting drunk, or anything, at all.”

Spike looked down at their now joined hands.

“Me neither. It's a bloody shame, really.”

“What do you think caused this?” As the circles grew a bit wider and her fingers, unconsciously, started to intertwine with his.

“Not sure, but we had to have been drugged, or someone put the whammy on us... Buffy, there is no way in hell we would've...”

Buffy interrupted, “Exactly! There's no way we would have ended up here if we were in our right minds! Someone did something to us Spike.”

Spike pulled his hand away like he'd been burned, and scooted back to put a bit of space between them. Leaning against the wall, he caught her glance.

“Forgot. I was going to say... forgot.”

“Oh.”

TBC...