Set roughly post Tabula Rasa, although I'm messing with the timeline a little. Assuming that although Tara was suspicious of Willow’s use of magic, it hasn’t quite reached the proportions where she felt it necessary to leave. Also assuming that there has been time after TR for Spike and Buffy to develop a relationship so as to get to this stage. So, basically – kind of canon but with a twist. :D It starts right where Fly Me to the Moon ends.




This story was written especially for Chanel who shares my love of Spuffy and Trek and asked more than once for a sequel. I hope I do it justice.




Many, many hugs to my friend and beta Lou; without her my words would be worthless.




So, without further ado....




LET ME PLAY AMONGST THE STARS




Harry Kim woke with a smile on his face. That’d been one hell of a dream, the best of many if truth be told. For the past month or so his nights had been invaded by increasingly erotic ‘incidents’ – albeit completely and totally in his hyperactive imagination – with the Borg babe that Captain Janeway seemed intent on pairing him up with - in a work context, anyway.




She was most definitely put together. And what an Ice maiden! Sometimes the job meant they had to get real close… and in his fantasies the accidental touches while working became searing stolen moments. The best had been when Voyager’s avoidance manoeuvre had sent them crashing to the floor together – and yeah, the earth had moved, and how! Happy landings…but not as happy as last night’s!




He opened one eye to check the time and turned over onto his side. There was a good half hour before he was due on duty and since the sonic shower would take care of his personal grooming in about 30 seconds, he could allow himself a few more minutes to wallow in that delicious snooze zone between sleep and waking.




“Morning, sexy,” he murmured to Seven, who lay naked at his side, blonde hair for once free of pins and spread out on the pillow.




“Yes, I believe it is morning, Ensign Kim. I am aware of the hour.”




“Sorry, Seven.” Harry smiled dreamily then frowned as his sleepy brain tried desperately to grasp the elusive little niggle presently zipping and bouncing round inside his head.




The lightweight, heat efficient cover was grabbed suddenly as Harry leapt from the bed like it was on fire. He smacked his head on the sloping ceiling, ducked down and crashed into the clarinet and music stand that stood to one side of the bed. In a tangle of limbs, cover, sheet music and stand, Kim collapsed in an undignified heap as he stared aghast at the naked and extremely nubile Borg drone lying on his bed.




“Erm…Seven? What… what are you doing here?”




“I do not understand your question. Are you unable to recall last night?” Seven raised an elegant eyebrow. “There were the intruders I told you about and I showed you diagrams? We copulated. You were very energetic once your initial reluctance was breached. Resistance – after all – was futile.”




“That…was really real ?” Harry croaked.




He recalled all right. And despite his horror at finding himself in this compromising situation with his sexy but haughty shipmate, his body recalled too. In fact said body decided to demonstrate just how pleasant and arousing that recollection was. He followed Seven’s eyes down to his crotch…there was definite tenting.




“Ensign. I calculate that there’s a time slot of 3 minutes 37 seconds when we could engage in more coupling before you need to prepare for your shift. Please approach.”




Harry’s legs automatically obeyed her commanding tone, brain no longer capable of functioning through the shock. Seven shifted over obviously expecting him to join her. Harry stood still, terrified, hands gripping the soft material.




“3 minutes 11 seconds and counting, Mr Kim. I’m sure you are capable of satisfying me within those parameters?”




Three words played on a loop in Harry’s mind…resistance is futile .




++++++++++++++++




Jonathan, Andrew and Warren were bickering. It was a typical morning in their lair therefore and much fun had been had with the transporter episode. The argument centred on whether or not the failure to record the action for posterity was the fault of Andrew or Jonathan. Warren was smugly denying any responsibility.




“Well, it’s obviously not me because hello – evil mastermind! You guys wanted to head up Surveillance but if you can’t cut it... Anyway it’s my mom’s basement so I’m exempt.”




“What the…since when? Where was that written down?”




Warren Mears had been waiting for that. “Well duh…the board! Don’t tell me you didn’t read the back of it? Standard disclaimer, guys. You both signed the mission statement.”




Andrew and Jonathan stared at each other, open-mouthed. Andrew marvelled at the genius of Warren’s slyness; Jonathan grew a little unsettled with Warren’s duplicity. But they both had signed the board.




“Okay, so you got us. But what’s to fight about? We just do over, that’s all. It’ll work again. We send ‘em back – or forwards, or wherever the hell they went to - rig up a recording device that'll travel with them and later…sell the DVDs for mucho dinero. It’ll be the hottest ticket in town!”




It was Warren’s turn to gape. Who’d have thought it? The squirt was a regular brainiac. Andrew kicked himself for not thinking of it before his vertically challenged friend.




“Nice idea, short round. Repeatomode it is, right now!”




The three scrambled off to rig up the necessary equipment.




+++++++++++




Spike and Buffy had rematerialized in Spike’s crypt, still clasping each other tightly and lying on a Persian rug. They were both dumbstruck at the experience, wondering if they’d had a shared hallucination. Buffy broke the silence…




“Spike…did we…was that…real? The spaceship, the weird guns?”




“Think so, pet. Least, it felt bloody real to me.” He smirked. “Well, you did…”




Buffy rolled her eyes. “Wanna think with the grey cells, mister, and not little Spike there. Don’t you think it was kinda freaky?”




Spike kissed her nose, bounced to his feet and strolled over to the side table grabbing a fresh packet of cigarettes and popping one between his teeth. He lit it with his ever-present Zippo and took a deep drag.




“Freaked? Hardly, sweetheart. Grateful for the time I got to spend with you, is all. Thing is, Buffy, if it means I get you all to myself with no soddin’ Scoobies giving me the old evil eye, I’d sign on to crew Apollo bloody 13 first thing in the morning.”




Buffy got up and wandered over to the sarcophagus, perching on the cold stone surface with her legs swinging and brow creased in deep thought mode. She didn’t answer him and Spike noted her demeanour and sighed. She’d promised that when they got back she’d tell everyone about them. Empty words, empty promises. Of course it wouldn’t change the way he felt – he was used to being kicked in the teeth. But he’d hoped, allowed himself to feel actual hope and anticipation, that she’d finally worked through her self-imposed barriers and was ready to include him in her life. He dipped his head, ready for the brush-off.




Buffy didn’t disappoint. Without another word she bounced to her feet and shook out her hair - And so she was off. Bizarre as the night had been, it looked like the ending would be the usual cut and run. She’d had her fun and now she’d be scampering away, back into the arms of the Scoobies and their sanctimonious bloody preaching. Well, let her. She’d be back. And maybe one day she’d be sorry if he was gone when she came running in through the…oh sod it, who was he trying to kid! He was love’s bitch and would be waiting for her until hell froze over. Longer, if necessary.




She smoothed her hair, retying it with a hair clip and started towards the door. Spike stood over by the battered armchair affecting an air of ‘couldn’t care less’, determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing how hurt he was. She’d talked big over in the spaceship, but ultimately things would be just the same.




Buffy paused at the door and turned. “You coming with?”




Spike’s ecstatic smile lit up her world.




++++++++++++++++++++++++




Buffy arrived at the Magic Box before Spike, who’d taken the less–combustible route of the sewers. She greeted Anya, trying not to show her annoyance when the ex-vengeance demon completely blanked her, shoving her to one side so as to reach the actual paying customers who came in behind her. Anya and her crinkly green babies – ‘Dollar’ and ‘Another Dollar’. How she loved them!




They’d decided on a quick visit to the Magic Box before Buffy went to check on Dawn, simply to report in and get the research started. Both of them had momentarily forgotten that since leaving school the Scoobies had to get involved in real life with jobs and more study and the like. The only ‘Scooby’ available therefore was Anya and she wasn’t really big with the research or helping anybody out for purely humanitarian reasons. No, she was more the ‘I’ll help you if it’s not too difficult, doesn’t upset my day, or if you pay me’ kind. Spike had to respect that in her. Very vamp-like.




And as for Giles…well, he’d packed his bags and gone back to England following the day that wouldn’t end, the painful singing day, and the naughty Willow mojo that made them all forget who they were day. Buffy stifled a whimper at the thought that she’d have to research alone. Spike seemed to sense her distress, shoving open the door from the back room where he’d entered via the sewers and striding across to grip her hand in comfort. Buffy jerked her hand away and Spike allowed his to drop to his side, bowing his head to hide the tears forming in his limpid blue eyes. How much more could he take of this rollercoaster…




He almost fainted when instead of moving away from him, Buffy suddenly wrapped her arms round his neck and snuggled into his chest. He stood, Buffy moulded to his body, his arms flailing about at his sides and his mouth gaping like a landed fish, as his brain tried to process the required information to make him move. Autonomic response took over eventually and he hugged her tight against him, his smile threatening to take over his entire face.




Anya had dealt with the customers and was headed to the storeroom; as she passed the entwined couple she remarked, “It’s about time you two did something to fix all that unresolved sexual tension. It was making me too horny all the time and Xander needs so much recuperation between couplings.”




She breezed by, airily announcing, “We had to buy a battery charger to keep the toys primed. You’re so lucky, Buffy –vampires are renowned for their stamina.”




Spike froze, certain that one of Buffy’s punch-in-the-nose specials was heading his way at the comment about their sexual relationship.




Stunned, he looked down to see her shoulders shaking as she tried to restrain the laughter. She lifted her head and shouted after the retreating ex-demon “Don’t I know it!”




Spike gripped Buffy’s shoulders and held her slightly away, his hands remaining in contact with her flesh as he tilted his head in question.




“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my Slayer?”




Features softened with happiness were turned towards him and he gasped at the sight of the woman he adored, captive in his arms and gazing at him with love and satisfaction.




“Silly! It’s me! And you’re right…I am your Slayer. I’m your Slayer, your Buffy, your lover, your anything you want me to be. Isn’t it wonderful?”




Spike laughed with the joy of it as he picked her up and spun her round till she squealed for mercy, finally setting her down on the stairs and standing inside her parted legs. He kissed her softly, gently, channelling all of his love into the kiss. Buffy swooned in it, knowing now how he worshipped her and would continue to do so until the day he dusted.




She smiled up at him, flushed and happy as he took a step back, her hand still loosely holding on to one of his, the easy familiarity of the gesture thrilling him.




“Buffy…I didn’t think you’d…are you sure?”




Buffy leaned forwards, eager to reassure him that she was very, VERY sure. She knew how she felt, she couldn’t tell him yet – but she could show him.




“Spike, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my whole life. I told you during our mad space trip, I’m not gonna hide you away any more like something I’m ashamed of. The only thing I’m ashamed of is me, the horrible way I’ve treated you.” Spike went to interrupt. “No! Let me finish! You’ve done nothing but show me and my and friends how sincere and loyal you are and all I’ve done is take what I wanted then kick you in the groin. Enough. It stops right now.”




Spike just knew he had the nancy boy William look on his face, and he couldn’t care less. Demon was happy that the Slayer was caving in while the poet was overflowing with soft romantic gloopiness that the woman he loved was declaring her feelings at last, albeit without the actual words of love out loud. He could wait for that.




“Besides…I’ve got way better things to do to your groin…”




+++++++++++++++++++++++++++




“Seven. Mr Kim. You’re both late. I take it you have good reason and that it won’t happen again, so let’s not waste any more time. Chakotay – continue.”




Captain Janeway barked out her orders as she paced the ready room, hands on her hips, fingers tapping out her frustration. First of all they had intruders of unknown origin hiding out in a Jeffries tube for who knew how long, no explanation, no idea why they were there. And now two of her senior officers were neglecting their duty. It just wouldn’t do. They may be the only Starfleet vessel in the Delta quadrant and years from home but that was no reason to let standards slip.




“It appears that the two intruders were humanoid, but the internal scanners have also identified anomalies in their genetic makeup. The female seemed to be endowed with super strength, enhanced healing powers, overall a higher metabolic rate than normal. The male…well, there were human genes but the other component…we just don’t know. He had equal strength to the female but he appeared to be without functioning organs – no heartbeat, no endocrine system, nothing. There is no matching genetic fingerprint in the databanks and the doctor has been unable to suggest any explanation as to their origin.”




The doctor’s testy voice echoed from the com channel link. “Yet! No explanation yet! I did say, Commander Chakotay, that I was very near to identifying the heretofore unknown material. As you know, I have proven invaluable in the past where such situations have arisen, my intellect, of course, is beyond the imaginings of your average medical personnel. Need I remind you of the time I…?”




“Thank you, doctor, that will be all.” Janeway cut off the channel and the screen went blank. She turned back to the conference table to be met by equally blank faces. She held the eyes of each of her officers until one by one they had to look away.




“Anything? Do we have any ideas on this? Seven – you made a study of them I believe. Can you show us your findings? I’d be interested to see what you learned from the – there must be something else we can call them other than intruders – visitors?”




Tom Paris noted Seven’s heightened colour. Was that a blush? The stoic Borg? Surely not. He nudged B’elanna to draw her attention. Her eyes widened at the sight of the normally calm and serene Seven of Nine as she stuttered and shifted in her seat, cheeks definitely red in hue. She turned to her husband and giggled, stifling the sound behind a manufactured cough.




“I…Captain, the data was…corrupted somewhat.” Out of the corner of her eye, Seven watched Harry squirm in his seat as he fought the impulse to run. “I may be able to assemble some parts of it…to present…but there will be…partial degradation.”




The sound of Harry’s chair scraping along the floor drew everybody’s attention. At Janeway’s quizzical look he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Captain…I apologise…I feel…unwell. May I go to sick bay?”




Janeway nodded; the boy did look green around the gills and he had been late – most un-Kimlike. Maybe he’d been affected by the intrusion.




Gratefully, Kim scuttled to the door avoiding Seven’s eyes.




“Harry. While you’re there ask the doctor to run a scan for all levels of bacteria, microbes, viruses. If our visitors are carriers of anything harmful, our first priority will be to prepare a hypospray antidote for crew inoculation.”




“Yes, Captain.”




He’d never been so relieved to hear the sound of the door swishing shut behind him.




Back in the conference room, B’elanna and Tom were whispering to each other until Seven shot them a chilling glare. In that instant, Tom understood Harry’s sudden illness. Seven of Nine had taken a bite out of the young ensign.




‘Well, he’s a braver man then m…’




“Settle down, people. We’re no nearer to understanding this. Seven – go work on your presentation. I want it by 1600 hours, no later. Tom – check the Delta Flyer over and make sure it’s good to go. If they return we may need to move quickly. B’elanna – I want a complete tune-up of the drive systems, warp core, weapons array. We’ve no idea what their purpose is in contacting us and we’d be wise to prepare for any eventuality. I need to know that there’ll be instantaneous response. Tuvok - it’s obvious the scanners weren’t calibrated to alert us to the intruders’ presence. With the data from the doctor and Seven I want you to ensure that doesn’t happen again. Neelix – have you come across anything like this before?”




“Well…yes…and no. Not exactly like this but there is an ancient legend told amongst my people of a race of beings who possess superior strength because they are imbued with the essence of a demon, an evil being. They dwell in darkness and live forever drinking the blood of people they hunt.”




Tom snorted. “Neelix, that’s ludicrous! You’ve just described vampires! We have tales of them on Earth too. But that’s all it is – tales -- vampires don’t exist.”




Janeway smiled wryly. Vampires from Outer Space!




“Let’s hope so, Tom. Well, people – let’s get to work. I want you all back here by 1600 for Seven’s report. I’m sure she’ll be able to shed some light on the whole thing.




++++++++++++++++++++++++




Dawn was devouring breakfast like she’d not eaten in a month when Buffy and Spike burst through the door, Spike smacking at the flames that were licking at his duster. She jumped up with a squeak of surprise, heavily syruped pancake dangling from her mouth.




“Guys!” she spluttered, “Sheesh, dramatic entrance much! What’s up?”




Buffy moved towards her sister, feeling as though she hadn’t seen her in ages when in reality it was only last night before patrol. Dawn didn’t seem at all concerned that her sister had stayed out all night. Certainly hadn’t made a dent in her ever-present appetite.




“Syrup, Dawn? What happened to eating healthy stuff?”




The teenager licked her fingers guiltily. Busted. Time to play the abandoned card…




“Erm…well, I was all alone and the house was so quiet. I didn’t know what to make, so I just thought…” Big blue eyes focused on the tiny figure of her sister who was wringing her hands and looked about to cry; momentarily Dawn thought better of her ruse but now she’d started it she didn’t know how to stop.




She didn’t have to, Spike did it for her.




“Now, Niblet – stop funning with your sister. You trying to tell us that you didn’t snore the solid twelve hours you usually do, lulled to sleep by some overly cheery music and dreaming of some spotty lad with a face like a slapped arse? Come on – I’ll bet you didn’t even realise she was gone, did you?”




Dawn opened her mouth to object and even got the first syllable out before she ran into a wall of ice blue eyes and earnest face that adored her and she knew it. She couldn’t lie to him.




“Okay! I get it! I’m sorry! No, Buffy, I just thought you were sleeping the sleep of the pooped out Slayer. I decided to sneak a sugar OD while the coast was clear. But now you mention it…where have you guys been?”


It was Buffy and Spike’s turn to look shifty. How to explain to Dawn that they’d been in space, on a space ship, with aliens and without clothes or inhibitions? The PG version, obviously.




“Dawn, you wouldn’t believe us if we told you. Remember that movie Galaxy Quest?”




++++++++++++




Andrew, Jonathan and Warren had spent hours assembling the ingredients and equipment to run the time/space travel trick again. It needed to be tweaked because although they could tell that Spike and Buffy had left this continuum and also when they returned, they had no way of knowing what had happened when they were gone.




Or even where they went to.




Oh, sure, Jonathan couldn’t shut up about the fact that he’d made a transporter system that actually worked and to hell with science fiction and the impossibility of it all. But it was just as likely that all they’d done with the duo was zap them on top of a mountain somewhere, or even right into the sewer system beneath Sunnydale’s grimy streets. Hell, they could have just been on repeato again like Buffy had been the last time they’d messed with her.




So, hence the tweaking of the spell to include a recording device. The Troika were going to do it right this time, complete with full distribution rights and a sideline in blackmail, courtesy of the Biggest Bad and the Hottest Slayer – the Sex Tapes Volume 1 ‘Beyond the Outer Limits’ ™. They’d been watching the two of them of late and there was definitely something of a smoochie nature going on between them. Time to cash in.




“Short round – will it be ready before I die of old age?”




Jonathan was beginning to resent Warren’s derogatory comments. At first he’d laughed along just glad to be part of something, anything. But now – the height-related slights were starting to sting. And anyway, like Warren Mears was God’s gift….. Wasn’t like he could get himself a real girl…




“Yes it’s ready. Haven’t I said so already?”




Warren backed away, palms upraised and forward in supplication. “Just asking, Mini-me. No need to bite my knees.”




Jonathan shot him a glare, hidden quickly by his bowed head. Now was not the time to kick off. That time would come.




“Well, let’s get to it then. No time like the present is there? Andrew – you ready to record?”




“Yes sir, mon capitain! Beam them up, Shorty!”




The three boys dissolved into less than manly giggles at the reference to one of their favourite shows, Jonathan belatedly reacting to yet another slight with a scowl. Andrew had been waiting hours to throw that line in and was beaming with pride that it had gone down so well.




As the laughter subsided Jonathan closed his eyes and started chanting, sprinkling golden powder over a pot filled with blood and shaking his magic bone.




++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++