Spike awoke to the familiar feeling of emptiness next to him.

Just like always, mate. You wake up and the chit is long gone.

A loud crash from downstairs made Spike jump. After quickly wrapping the bed sheet around his waist, he stood, grabbed a swig of mouthwash from the nightstand next to him, and thundered down the stairs. To his surprise, Buffy was bustling about the kitchen, setting up a lovely little breakfast for two. She had apparently found clothing in her “room,” as she was wearing a pink tube top, black pants, and a slightly stained apron. He smirked at her when she noticed his presence.

“Expecting company, pet?”

Buffy scowled at him.

“Psh…no…I just…I’m just really hungry that’s all.”

“And you need two plates because…?”

“Because I don’t like to eat off of just one plate…it’s dirty. Like a Chinese buffet, I get a new plate each time I fill my plate up.”

“Ah,” Spike said, rolling his tongue behind his teeth, “And that mug of blood is also for you I suppose.”

Scoffing, Buffy placed the mug of warmed blood up to her lips.

“This? This is just tomato juice…see? Mmm…pulpy!”

Buffy mimicked taking a large gulp of the mug, and Spike raised his eyebrow.

“Tomato juice, eh? Mind if I have a mug?”

“Here,” Buffy said, shoving the mug at him with a slight smile, “take mine.”

Spike smirked as he took a sip of the blood.

“You’re right, pet, it’s very pulpy.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose and then smiled at Spike.

“Yeah, well, you might as well sit down with me, Mr. Toga.”

Spike sneered as he glanced down at the bed sheet still hanging around his waist.

“Well, I heard something crash down here and couldn’t fit myself into one of your little delicates fast enough. If I had known that ruckus was just your cooking, I would have taken my time. Where did all of this food come from, pray tell?”

“The fridge.”

“And you’re sure you want us to eat ‘found’ food?”

“Well, I figure if whoever sent us here wanted to hurt us, they would’ve done it when we were asleep.”

“Or shagging.”

“Any of the eight times.”

“Was it eight? I lost track, love.”

“I think so…I don’t know…maybe nine?”

Spike pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his tongue dancing around hers. Drawing himself back for a moment, he winked at her and pinched her rear.

“You want to make it a solid ten before we eat?”

“Eat first, Spike.”

“I plan on it love,” he said, leering at her lecherously.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy made each of them plates of scrambled eggs, toast and chunks of pineapple, and placed a bowl of Weetabix in front of Spike. He beamed at her.

“They had Weetabix?”

“Yep.”

“Blighters aren’t so bad then. But you knew how much I liked Weetabix?”

“Yep,” she said, her mouth full of warm, buttery toast.

“Bloody hell, Slayer, you do care,” he said with a chuckle.

Buffy nodded and shoved a forkful of eggs in her mouth.

“Yep.”

They finished their meal in a comfortable silence, each pausing ever so often to look up and smile at one another. Spike began to gather up the dishes, but suddenly found his hands emptied and the dishes cleaned and stacked neatly in a pile on the counter. He raised an eyebrow and turned to Buffy.

“Pet? What in the bloody hell just happened?”

“I have no idea…as soon as I put the eggs in the pan they seemed to cook perfectly. I just thought I had gotten better at cooking….”

“I don’t have any hope of that happening, love.”

“Hey,” Buffy began to protest, but then sighed. “Well, at least I try.”

“That you do, Slayer. And that’s half the battle.”

“Yeah, well, whatever is keeping us here is trying to take care of us for some reason.”

“Hope it’s not for testing…I had enough of that with the bloody chip.”

“Me neither. I can’t find my way out of mazes anyhow.”

Spike nodded and motioned to the living room.

“Let’s snoop around, love…see what we can find, yeah?”

Grabbing Spike’s hand as they walked into the living room, Buffy lost herself for a moment thinking about their sexual romps the previous night. She flashed Spike a becoming smile and nodded at the sofa.

“We really should break the room in before we do any research…get it out of the way so we can focus, you know?”

“Of course, love,” he said, “it’s good luck.”

Pulling his face to hers, Buffy enveloped Spike’s thick mouth in a long, deep kiss. Without hesitation, Buffy knelt before him, untying the bed sheet and drawing his long, hard member into her mouth. She massaged the organ with long strokes of her tongue, flicking its tip every so often. Spike moaned in pleasure, rocking his hips forward as she lapped at his pulsing cock. Unable to handle any more teasing, Spike pulled Buffy up and turned her back to himself, bending her over and pulling her soft pants down.

Thrusting into her dripping orifice, Spike nearly lost control of himself instantly. He pumped into her with great force, causing Buffy to allow loud moans to fall from her lips. Buffy arched her back as a pulsating orgasm washed over her. In a few quick thrusts, Spike could feel himself begin to break, and Buffy pulled herself away from him, again kneeling in front of the vampire and taking his cock into her mouth. Her feverish laps at his member finally broke him and he filled her mouth with a loud moan. Buffy smiled sweetly as she swallowed his essence, and then stood back up and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay…research time!”

Buffy pulled her pants back up and walked briskly to a bookcase. Spike shook his head and stretched out on the couch, staring up at Buffy in awe.

“How in the bloody hell do you have that much energy, pet? What was in those sodding eggs you ate?”

Buffy shrugged and grabbed a large, leather-bound book from the shelf.

“I dunno. I guess your ‘man juice’ gave me that extra boost I needed. I’ll have to remember that.”

“So will I, love.”

A strange, discerning look crossed Buffy’s face and she plopped down on the couch next to Spike. He wrapped a concerned arm around her frame.

“Buffy? Pet? What’s wrong?”

Buffy handed the book to Spike, still staring into the air before her. Holding the book in his hands, Spike read the cover with a strange sense of foreboding.

Welcome Buffy Summers and William “Spike” Pratt to Purgatory! A Handbook For The Afterlife

“What the bloody hell?”

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