Buffy was ablaze with lust.

From across the room, Riley eyed her suggestively as he sipped his beer.

To hell with this party, to hell with her friends. To hell with slaying. All Buffy wanted was to be in her boyfriend's strong arms again. To once more feel the intense heat they'd generated that morning in his bed. Maybe more than once more...

She noticed that Willow and Xander had left her side, and Riley's friends had given up on trying to engage their preoccupied housemate.

Smiling saucily, Buffy crossed the divide between them.

His beeper went off. "Damn."

Not now, not now! "What is it?"

Apologetic and helpless, he said, "I have to go."

"But... we were gonna go upstairs," Buffy said, hoping that would make his Initiative meeting go away.

"I know," Riley said, just as overheated, "and we will. I'll be back."

"Let's go, Finn," Forrest said.

She pouted as she watched him go. What am I supposed to do now?

"Buffy!" Xander's voice.

She turned her head towards the den. Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were sitting on the floor with a few other partygoers.

"Come on, Buffy!" Willow said. "Come sit down!"

Buffy shot a last forlorn look at the stairs Riley had ascended, and reluctantly trudged over to the gang.

Willow patted a place beside her. Buffy absentmindedly sat, and before she knew it, an empty beer bottle was pointing straight at her.

"Score!" a luggy boy exclaimed. "Come to Papa!"

Buffy gave him a blank stare.

"The bottle points to you," Anya explained brightly. "Now you have to kiss him."

"Wait," Buffy said, incredulous. "We're playing Spin the Bottle?"

"Uh-huh," Xander said without irony.

"And... how old are we?"

"Oh come on, Buffy, it's fun!" Willow said.

"Um," Buffy said, surprised at Willow's enthusiasm. This definitely wasn't like her. "I have a boyfriend."

"It's just a game," the boy who leered at her said. "Lighten up."

"Yeah, don't worry about it, Buff," Xander said with a wave of his hand.

Xander wanted her to kiss this guy? Protective, big brotherly Xander?

"Fine." She leaned over and gave the guy a closed-mouth peck.

"Hey!" he complained.

"Oh, you're not following the rules, Buffy," Anya said. "You have to kiss him for at least seven seconds."

"And there has to be tongue," he added.

"Excuse me?" Buffy asked, preparing to deck this half-wit.

"It's true," Anya confirmed with a nod.

Buffy silently pleaded with the gang for an exit strategy, but nobody got the message.

It was as if her friends had been possessed... by normal college students. Was there something in the beer again? Were they just When-in-Rome-ing it?

"Go for it," Willow said, nudging her.

Well, Buffy figured, I keep saying I want to be normal...

Hoping he wouldn't slobber all over her, she went for it. When their lips touched, the circle started chanting, "One! Two! Three!"

Spike turned in his chair to see what all the commotion was about. Red was sitting on the floor, the other witch beside her, and... He got up to get a closer look.

The Slayer. Making out with some flush-faced frat prat?

"Seven!"

Buffy sat back on her heels, an undisguised look of revulsion on her face. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve and lied, "You know, I think I just saw Riley, I'll be--"

"But it's your turn, Buffy," Willow said.

"My turn? But--"

"The last one chosen is the next to choose." Anya, human instruction booklet.

"Whatever." With a frustrated sigh, Buffy touched the bottle. On contact, an exhilarating charge coursed up her arm and down her center. Ooh, tingly.

So that was it: the bottle! An enchanted bottle? "Guys, there's something wrong with this--"

Black leather flashed at Buffy's eye level, confusing and distracting her, as it was the kind of black leather most commonly associated with the long jacket, heavy boots, nailpolish hue and similarly tragic fashion choices of the last person she needed to see right now.

He sat down indian-style directly across from her.

"Spike," Buffy retracted her hand from the bottle, not wanting to associate him with the feelings she was having. "What are you doing here?"

"I expect this is fair game," he said, peering at the circle of tasty-looking humans. "Alright with you?"

A cute blonde girl on the far end practically moaned, "Totally."

He grinned at the girl, then at Buffy. "Go on then, love. Give it a spin."

"If it points at you, I quit," she said, hatred mingling with the lust she couldn't contain.

"Why? We've lip-locked before, you and me."

"Exactly."

"Ooh, burn!" the boy exclaimed, and tried to high-five her. Feeling Spike's glare, he dropped his hand and coughed.

She spun the bottle, and around it went... to Anya.

Xander's eyes widened.

"Oh," Anya said, suddenly flustered. "Well, I suppose that would be me."

"Sweet!" the frat boy cried. "Girl-on-girl action!"

More spectators gathered around.

"Okay," Anya readied herself. "It's not as if I've never done this before..."

Xander stuttered, "You...?"

Anya shrugged.

Buffy, wanting to escape before Riley returned, leaned across the floor to press her lips to Anya's.

No different than a man, she told herself. Just... softer. And... soft...

"Dear God," she heard Xander pray, "please don't let this be a dream."

As they uncoupled, almost everyone burst into applause.

First girl kiss, Buffy thought proudly. Surprisingly okay.

She noticed Spike appraising her with amusement. "What?"

"Starting to enjoy yourself, Slayer?"

"No." Then she turned to Anya. "I mean -- you know what I mean."

"Yes, of course. You're not a lesbian, and neither am I. Not that it was unpleasant." Anya cleared her throat. "Well. It's my turn now! Go, me." The bottle slowed down at Spike. Now she could really show Xander...

Catching the jealousy that flickered through Xander's eyes, Willow quickly used her telekinetic powers to nudge the bottle.

Somehow, she nudged it too far and it landed on... her. Whoops!

Tara frowned, keenly aware of her girlfriend's witchcraft. Why did Willow want to kiss Anya so much?

Willow whimpered helplessly at Tara.

"Go on, kiss her," Tara said, jealousy shading her words.

Xander's eyes glazed over. "This is the best dream ever."

Encouraged, Anya grabbed Willow by the face and plowed her tongue into the witch's mouth.

Willow tried not to kiss back for fear that Tara would get even more upset. And also because... Anya.

"Well, that wasn't so bad either," Anya said, brightening. "I think I'm getting the hang of this!"

"Please... please do," Xander croaked, images of Scooby orgies dancing through his head.

Willow realized it was her turn. "Oh." Both she and Tara magically directed the bottleneck to the same spot.

Finally chosen and determined now, Tara kissed her girlfriend with intense fervor, proving once and for all to whom Willow really belonged.

"Whoa," Xander said as the girls settled back in their spots. "Have you two been practicing?"

They ignored him.

"My turn," Tara said, shooting a triumphant look at Willow. Using her own powers, she purposely made it settle on Anya.

"Wow," Anya said, ribbing her boyfriend. "I'm gettin' a lotta action tonight, aren't I?"

Tara moved in on Anya, and kissed her with ostentatious sensuality.

"Okay," Xander resolved in a squeaky voice, shielding his crotch, "going now." He took Anya's hand and hastily dragged her away from the group.

Tara and Willow exchanged angry and apologetic glances.

The frat boy said, "Well that sucks. Who goes now?"

"I haven't gone yet," the cute blonde girl piped up, staring pointedly at Spike.

"Well then," Spike said, flashing her that charming vampire smile. "Guess you'd better."

Buffy wasn't sure why it bothered her so much, seeing him flirt with someone else. But it did.

She really hoped Slutty's spin would end at Slobber Boy, but no such luck. Either this girl was a Spin The Bottle pro or she was a witch too, because it stopped right smack in front of Spike.

"Must be my lucky night, love," Spike said rakishly to the girl.

Buffy cringed. "Oh, please."

He sent her a smirk as he bent towards the girl.

It was like rubbernecking at a train wreck. Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away.

As Spike brushed his lips against someone else's mouth, Buffy felt a sudden inexplicable desire to be that someone else -- anyone other than the Slayer -- who had no reason to care who or what she kissed. This girl could sleep with Spike right now if she wanted to, no higher power to answer to, no moral responsibility, no guilt; just a quick, hot -- wrong, never, can't -- roll in the hay.

Bitch.

"Time's up, Lolita," she said, peeling the girl off of the vampire she could never have. Want, she corrected herself. That I'd never want.

"Oh, sorry," Slutty said. "Is he your guy?"

"No!" Buffy scoffed. "It's just -- your time was up."

"Well," Spike said, looking straight at Buffy. "Must be my go then."

He gave it a gentle spin. It landed... right between Buffy and Willow.

Not wanting to kiss anyone else in front of her girlfriend now, Willow used her power to nudge the bottle one last time.

"Hey!" Buffy said to Willow, who shrugged sheepishly.

"Dude," the frat boy said. "Either I'm way wasted, or that shit just moved by itself."

Buffy pointed at Spike, who had a cocksure grin on his face. "I am not kissing him."

"You gotta," Slobber Boy said.

"You heard the boy," Spike said seductively as he leaned in. "You gotta."

The hem of his coat fanned across the floor as he reached out to wrap a cool hand around her warm neck.

Buffy looked around wildly to make sure Riley was nowhere in sight.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Her face reached his. He paused, feeling her hot breath on his skin.

When their lips finally touched, fire to ice, something seemed to erupt. Between them, around them, a sense of right chaos loomed.

They pulled apart, staring at each other with identical expressions of fear.

Quickly, they met again with fierce passion.

The kiss deepened. The room shook.

"Earthquake!" Willow and Tara ran for the doorway.

Buffy didn't run. Neither did Spike. Oblivious to the madness around them, he tugged her closer. She unwittingly straddled his lap.

This was all she wanted. All she needed. Don't care don't care don't care

Their kiss continued as he stood up with Buffy attached to him, legs coiled around his waist. They brushed past Willow in the doorway.

"Um... Buffy?" Willow called out, and looked to Tara in bewilderment.

That's when they heard the screams.

The house seemed to be alive with energy. People were panicking, fighting and fucking everywhere.

"Oh my God," Tara said.

"What's happening?" Willow shrieked, barely missing the trajectory of a falling bookcase.

"It's the house," realized Tara. "We've got to get out of here!"

"But -- Buffy -- where did they go?"

"Come on, Willow, they probably left too!"

* * *

Spike stumbled up the stairs, a hot slayer in his arms, mouth fused to his.

He kicked open the first door on his right. An ardent couple writhed on the bed.

"Out!" he growled at them, revealing demonic features. "Now!"

The couple screamed and ran. Spike pushed Buffy against the door to close it, kissed her against it, then made way to the bed, breaking the bedside lamp in the process. The room was shrouded in darkness.

"Spike," Buffy whispered as he tore at the fabric of her shirt.

"Slayer."

"Now," she said, on her back, legs dangling off the bed, "I need you now."

Her pants were peeled away, his shirt was off, now his jeans couldn't be unbuttoned fast enough.

Taking hold of his cock as he stood at the edge of the bed, he panted, "You got me."

Buffy spread her legs and guided his hips forward.

Spike nudged against her opening. Tight resistance threatened to push him out, but her welling slickness invited him in.

Finally, he forced it home and was sheathed in her.

"Yes," they elated together, eyes tearing.

Vampire and Slayer, mortal enemies, perfect match.


More to come...

"Buffy! Where's Buffy!?" Riley frantically implored Willow.

"I, I don't know, she was here, and then--"

"What the hell is going on here?" Forrest shouted.

"There's something wrong with the house," Willow tried to explain. "It's making people all... weird and, and sex-crazed!"

"You lookin' for your girlfriend, Ri?" The frat boy from the game accosted him. "She went upstairs with some punk rocker dude."

"She... what?"

"Later!" The boy fled the house.

Riley ran upstairs and rattled his locked doorknob. "Buffy? Are you in there?" Ear pressed against the door, he heard twin groans, one male, one female. Definitely her voice. "Buffy! Buffy, it's Riley, open the goddamn door!"

"I don't know if she's home right now," Willow said, behind him.

"Is it Spike?" Riley shook her. "Dammit Willow, tell me! It's Spike, isn't it?"

Willow blustered, "I -- She-- They were--"

Suddenly, vines shot under the door, wrapping it shut.

Tara gasped, hand over mouth. "This can't be good."

"We have to go find Giles."

They scurried off, leaving Riley to contend with the vines.

"Buffy!"

* * *

Inside the room, Buffy and Spike heard nothing but their own cries, pants and moans.

"So good," she said as they rolled apart, trying to regain some semblance of control.

It was useless.

"You're too far away from me." Buffy pulled Spike back to her, and gasped, "Don't stop touching me."

"Never," he promised.

His hands trailed down her sides as he penetrated her again and pumped rhythmically within her.

Holding onto his neck, Buffy pulled him in for another long, hard kiss.

* * *

"She what?" Giles asked again, flabbergasted. "With who?"

"She's in there with Spike," Willow reiterated.

"I think it's the house," Tara explained, out of breath. "A... a, a poltergeist or something."

"It's making people act really weird," Willow said. "...Sexually."

Giles tried to process this information. "Buffy is trapped in a room with Spike..." he looked to Willow for help.

"Sexually."

"Oh, dear god."

* * *

Riley banged fruitlessly on the door outside, vines cutting away at his skin.

"You're mine," he heard Spike growl. "Mine, mine, mine..."

Buffy's moans and sighs punctuated his proclamations.

Riley steeled himself, cocked his gun and shot at the vines and the doorknob. A vine seized the gun and flung it out of reach. "BUFFY!"

* * *

"Xander," Giles said into the telephone. "This is no time for jokes."

"I'm sorry. It's just... 'poltergasm'. You have to admit that's a funny."

Giles was not amused. "You must go back to the house and try to get Buffy out of there. If we don't stop her... she'll die."

"On our way," Xander said, buttoning his shirt and motioning to Anya. "What are you doing in the meantime?"

"An exorcism. We're going to try to invoke the spirits."

* * *

Buffy was on her knees, Spike plowing into her from behind, one hand yanking on her hair, the other grasping her hip.

There was a distant din of pounding echoing in the room like a faraway drumbeat, providing rhythm and pressing them on.

Buffy didn't know what it was, and didn't care.

All she knew was that she needed to come, again and again, with Spike inside of her.

* * *

Willow, Giles and Tara sat around a small table, mesmerized by the spirits of the children of Lowell House.

Tara and Willow beseeched them.

"Transform your pain, release your past. And, um... get over it," Willow closed.

The table flew and crashed against a wall.

"What happened?" Giles asked.

"I... I think we lost them."

* * *

"Unh, unh, unh," Buffy grunted as Spike smashed into her.

She came fiercely and briefly pulled away, immediately aching for more.

She was empty without his hips between her thighs, his thick cock inside of her aching pussy.

A gratifying thought occurred to her as she mounted Spike again. Lost to lust...

* * *

"Riley!" Xander and Anya approached his position, whacking at the weeds with machetes.

"Xander, we've got to get her--" Suddenly, Riley was propelled backwards and thrown into the bathroom, door slamming behind him.

Dragged into the tub and pushed under, he struggled against the invisible hands that held him down.

Finally, he emerged, spitting out water and gasping for air. More determined than ever to get to Buffy, he smashed the bathroom door down.

Together, Xander, Anya and Riley fought their way to the door.

* * *

Buffy's feet were clasped around Spike's neck as he thrust into her, muttering nonsensical lustisms. "Slayer, god, never, never stop, yeah, Slayer, hot, hot, tight little--"

The falling started again. Tumbling through space and time, hurdling into nothing...

This time, when they climaxed together, it was different. Less animal, more tender.

Suddenly, they existed again. They vaguely registered the room around them.

"Buffy," Spike said, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Spike," Buffy said, searching his eyes.

They closed in for a sweet kiss, her legs sliding languidly down his back.

Suddenly, the door shot open.

"God, don't you--" Buffy saw a sopping wet Riley standing in his own doorway. Then she looked at the man above her. "...knock?"

Riley pointed at Spike and growled, "Get off her, you piece of demon shit."

Spike leaned down to kiss Buffy's neck. "Sorry love, can't stay." Grabbing his jeans, he jumped out the window, and was gone.

Riley ran to the window, but Spike was too fast for him.

Buffy stared down at herself, then at Riley. "I--"

"Put your clothes on," he said, disgusted, and walked out.

* * *

"So," Buffy said, surrounded by her friends and Watcher the next morning.

Willow nodded. "So."

"Yeah," Xander said.

"This feels awkward," Anya piped up. "Is this because Buffy had sex with Spike for nearly three hours?"

A collective groan rippled through the gang.

"Or was it because we all kissed each other? Well, I kissed Buffy, and Willow. And Tara..."

Giles shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Buffy stared at the floor.

"I'll be explaining the awkward silence thing to her later," Xander apologized.

"Guys," Buffy said, redfaced, "I'm so sorry. I seriously don't know what came over me."

Xander opened his mouth to comment, but thought better of it.

"It was the house," Willow soothed. "It came over all of us."

This time, Xander couldn't help but giggle. Buffy blushed fiercely.

"Okay, bad choice of phrasing there," Willow said. "You know what I mean. You shouldn't feel responsible Buffy -- you were under the influence of powerful magicks."

"We were like zombies," Buffy corroborated. "I had no control over myself at all."

Sympathetic, Willow said, "It must have been horrible."

There was a lengthy pause.

"Yeah," Buffy said, eyes on the floor again. "Horrible."



More to come...

Spike lay on his sarcophagus, arms folded behind his head.

He hadn't slept.

Or eaten.

Or done anything but relive the previous night, over and over again.

Buffy.

It was so much easier to hate her.

A knock at his door roused him.

Knowing who'd be on the other side, he opened the door, carefully dodging the afternoon light.

Buffy stood there, looking down at the duster, shirt and boots she held. "I um, I thought you'd want these back."

She looked beautiful, standing in the sun.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks... Slayer." He chided himself. Almost said her name like a big prancing ponce.

She wasn't leaving, so he swept an arm back, gesturing for her to enter.

She walked past him into his crypt, and he put the articles down on his sarcophagus.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. "I missed these most of all."

Buffy sat down, and he stood, watching her warily as he lit his cigarette.

"Spike..." she began, not really knowing what to say next.

"Slayer."

Moments passed, the only sound the intake and exhalation of smoke.

Spike decided to sit next to her. She started a little, her first reaction to move away from him.

Her second reaction was a little different.

She acted on neither.

"Gathering the courage to stake me?" he said, only half-joking.

For the first time that day, she looked at him. A witty retort abandoned her, and all that was left were his eyes.

Shamed, she turned away and shook her head. "Last night..."

Spike nodded. "Yeah."

She sighed.

He flung his cigarette across the crypt, and they both watched it smolder on the dusty ground.

"This really is not going according to plan," Buffy finally said.

"Yeah? What was your plan?"

"I was gonna... explain everything. Why it happened. A poltergeist, emotionally disturbed teenagers, sexually... charged... repressed... somethings. You know, the explanation."

"And then?"

"And then you... you've got those stupid eyes."

He chuckled. "What's wrong with my eyes?"

She shrugged. "They see right through me."

He gazed at her pointed nipples. "It's a thin shirt."

"Stop." She stood up, covering her breasts. "Okay. We're both adults here, right? I mean, you... a little more so."

He smiled. "I suppose."

"So this... thing happened between us, and I can't easily explain it away. Why it was you."

He nodded, and looked down.

"Remember," she said, "well, the engagement spell, yeah, who could forget that. But also -- the thrall? And the blood I let you... have? And the ... the night we all fell asleep?"

He grinned, remembering very well. "I wasn't asleep."

"Yeah, I gathered that." She paced again. "I could ignore all of that. Explain it away. Just pretend it didn't happen, you know?"

"I know."

"But this. This is different."

"Yeah, I'd classify hours of hot sweaty naked sex as different."

Buffy scoffed. "Do you always have to be so blunt?"

He stood and approached her. "So you can't ignore it but you can't say it? Say it, Buffy, it'll make you feel a lot better." He forced her to look at him. "You and I, Slayer and evil vampire, had truly fantastic, hot naked sex! For hours!"

"Okay! Okay! I know!" She pushed him away. Then she added in a small voice, "Truly fantastic?"

Spike looked slightly wounded. "You don't think so?"

"No -- No!" Buffy said, turning and pacing away. "I do... a lot... I just, I don't know. Well, for one thing, we hate each other."

"Always makes for great sex," he said with a cavalier shrug.

Buffy was hushed. "Oh."

"I had a plan too, you know." Spike stalked toward her. "For when you came here."

She reluctantly eyed him. "What was your plan?"

"I wouldn't say a word." He touched her hair, his voice low and hungry. "I'd sweep you in my arms... and make you mine again."

Trying to mute the effect he had on her, she asked, "What went wrong?"

"Well," he said brightly, "I was hoping you'd give me a few days to recover. Couldn't do anything right now if you paid me. Contrary to what you saw last night, I'm not a bleedin' stallion."

She giggled. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

"But..." He came a little closer. Too close. "Doesn't mean we can't--"

"No!" Buffy backed away resolutely, keeping him at arms length. "Stop it. This ends now, Spike. You're not going to sweep me in your arms and... take me, and we're not going to do anything of any... sexual kind ever again. And that means no blooddrinking, no funny little 'thralls', and no getting me off while I'm asleep."

He chuckled. So she really knew after all...

Buffy wasn't laughing. "Do you understand?"

Spike looked her over and nodded soberly.

"No, I need you to say it, Spike."

He sighed. "Alright. I understand. No more fun, ever again."

"Good." She twirled and stomped out, closing the door soundly behind her.

Spike stared at the door, trying to determine whether she really meant it or not. The way she'd--

Suddenly, the door crashed open, and Buffy was upon him, pressing her body against his, wrapping her limbs around him and sliding her tongue into his mouth.

Spike took full advantage, holding her everywhere he could.

At last, Buffy pulled away, wearing an unreadable expression. She cleared her throat, wiped the corners of her mouth and made her final exit.

Spike stood there, burning with rekindled lust.

"Women."



More to come...

"Men."

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow said from the adjacent bed. "I wish there was something I could do. I tried to explain it to Riley, but he just didn't want to hear it."

"I know, Will. And thanks for trying," Buffy said with a wan smile, fingering Mr. Gordo's worn ears. "Anyway, I'll survive."

"You're strong, Buffy," Willow said. "You'll get over him."

"Yeah."

"It's so stupid. That Spike, of all people, could break you up."

Buffy nodded halfheartedly. "Yeah."

"I mean, why can't Riley cut you a break? He knows how much you hate Spike. It's not like you'd ever do it again." She looked at Buffy quizzically. "Right?"

Buffy stared intently at her 'Chocolate' poster.

"...Right, Buffy?" Willow asked again.

"Oh! Right. Of course right! I thought that was rhetorical."

Willow sat up to face Buffy. "You know, you can talk to me about this."

"I know, Will. I am talking to you."

"No, I mean, about what happened with Spike."

"Oh." Buffy whined, "Do I haveta?"

"Yeah. I think it's important. The sooner you deal with it, the sooner you can move on." She moved closer. "I mean, when you finally realized what was going on? I can't imagine how traumatic that must've been."

At her friend's open, guileless expression, Buffy knew she couldn't keep the deception going. "Willow, I knew what was going on the whole time."

Willow frowned. "But. But the zombies..."

"Yeah, we were like zombies. We were being pulled by some magical strings, for sure. We couldn't stop even if we wanted to. But, I knew it was him. He definitely knew it was me. And traumatic?" Buffy tried to stop a stubborn, recurring smile from breaking out. "Not so much."

Willow blinked, trying to comprehend. "You... you knew... the whole time?"

"We sought each other out, Willow," Buffy confessed. "In a way. The forces in that house started it -- and yeah, kept it going, but I chose him. I mean, the engagement spell--"

"Oh god!" Willow cried. "This is all my fault! I knew it! I cast that spell and it gave you residual feelings for Spike! That's why there was the mutual thrall, and now the-the non-traumatic sex--"

"It wasn't the spell! I mean--" Buffy caught herself in hyper-admission mode and backtracked. "No feelings! There were no residual feelings. All I meant was, it wasn't a spell this time, it was some hormonal poltergeisty thing--"

"Right. It made everyone's hormones go all willy-nilly."

"And that explains why it happened..."

"But...?"

"But," Buffy sighed, "that doesn't explain the... the Spike."

"No, I guess it doesn't," Willow said, brow wrinkled. "Buffy, do you like Spike?"

"No!" she snapped, then softened. "It's not like that." She stood up to pace and reasoned with herself. "I've just come to accept that maybe Spike's hormones, and my hormones... sometimes sort of... mesh, but no," she turned to face Willow. "We can't ever do that again."

"You can't?" Willow ventured carefully. "As in you can't, but you want to?"

"No!" Buffy looked down and tossed Mr. Gordo aside. "He's disgusting. He's evil. He's tried to kill me, and more importantly you, and everyone else I love, more times than I'd like to count. No," she said sincerely, making up her mind. "Of course not."

"Sounds convincing," Willow said, "and, gotta respect the logic. But what are your hormones telling you?"

Buffy gave in, flopping backwards on her bed. "They're saying, 'Bring me Spike.'" She lifted her arms for emphasis. "'With whipped cream. And hot fudge. And possibly a cherry... on... top... '" She sat up. "Did I just say that out loud?"

Willow couldn't help but look horrified.

She quickly amended, "But that's just my hormones' idea of a good time. They're not the boss of me. Not like they were that night."

"I know, and that's a good. But... Buffy, just be careful, okay?"

"Don't worry, Will," Buffy said blithely. "I'm completely in control. I'm Control Girl."

* * *

The hunt. The kill. It made every part of Buffy feel gloriously alive.

Four vampires surrounding her, thinking they could one-up her somehow. How very naive they were. And how very wrong.

There was no uncertainty to slaying.

It wasn't like the rest of her life.

As she spun and flipped and tumbled and jumped, thrusting her stake into one heart after the other, Buffy was pure adrenaline. She reveled in her calling. Her body hot, blood coursing with victory, she pushed the stake neatly into the last vamp and watched him burst into dust.

Buffy was pumped, and ready for more.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck tingled.

Another one. But not just any one.

Him.

Behind her. About two rows of tombstones away.

She didn't turn to face him.

Eyes closing, she dropped her stake.

He approached, slowly, silently.

Black fingernailed hands wrapped around her waist, coasting over her shirt, stimulating her nipples through the thin material.

Control Girl made a swift exit.

Buffy arched backwards into him and ground against his erection.

Her hand climbed up his neck and into his hair. "Spike..."

He spun her around. They met with a desperate intake of breath, their kiss intensifying their mutual desire.

Spike tore away from her mouth to worship her neck and earlobe with a husky rejoice: "God I missed you."

The sound of his voice, his words of sweet relief were unbearable to Buffy. She gasped, "Me too... I missed..."

She brought him backwards and sat up on a wide, stout tombstone, allowing him to run his cool hands over her.

It felt different this time. No spells, no poltergeists, no playing around. This was real and this was right.

He pulled her thong down, off her legs, and stuffed it in his pocket with a smile.

"Saving that for something?"

"Hope I won't have to," he said, opening his jeans.

Buffy wrapped her legs around him and reeled him in.

Spike was immediately hit by her heady scent of arousal, more than he'd ever sensed before. She wanted him. Badly. And he wasn't one to keep a girl waiting.

Their mouths met again as their bodies intertwined, as he drove into her delectably wet heat.

"Mine," he claimed. "You're mine."

Buffy threw her head back, mouth open, letting him fill her. "Spike."

"Buffy." He grit his teeth, knowing he couldn't control himself for long.

"Don't stop," she said.

Damn... he thought, but answered, "Never."

"Spike..."

"Shhh," he said, and covered her mouth. The more she made those sweet pleas, the sooner he was going to come.

She bit into his hand.

And Spike had a thing about biting. "Christ." Eyes rolling back, cursing God's name, he willed himself to hold out just a little longer...

He kept at a steady pace, and touched a finger to her clit.

She nodded, signaling that what he was doing was just right.

Buffy began to writhe around, bucking wildly against him.

In seconds, her entire body tightened. Her inner muscles strangled his cock, then released with a rush of new, slippery fluid. She cried out into his hand.

As she convulsed in orgasm, Spike lost it: pushing her onto her back on the grass, he pounded mercilessly until every last drop of his semen shot into her luscious core.

They gasped together, high on afterglow, and their eyes met, glazed with contentment.

"Guess your plan was the better one," Buffy said breathlessly.

"Surprising but true," Spike agreed.

Suddenly, they heard a tree branch break.

They shot up simultaneously, half-dressed, in warrior stance.

A wily possum pranced away.

They glanced at each other and relaxed.

Buffy's eyes widened, and she pointed at Spike. She began to bubble with laughter.

He looked down. His fly was unbuttoned, and Little Spike was dangling out.

She laughed harder, holding her side. "Fighting like that? Real scary."

"Oh, thanks," he said sarcastically. "Put a scare into you just a minute ago."

She broke into more hysterics.

He watched her warily as he stuffed himself back in his pants. "Least it was just a bloody rodent."

"And if it wasn't? If it was some demon, or, or -- Adam?" She giggled, and made a serious face. "'I would like to study your penis, Spike'", she said in a monotone Adam impression. "'And find out how it contracts from this--'" she held her hands about nine inches apart, then pointed at his crotch. "'To that.'" She doubled over.

Spike smiled despite the emasculating subject matter. She was a picture when she laughed. "Alright, alright. You had your fun, Slayer." He strutted up to her and took her hand. "And thanks for the extra inch."

Buffy wiped a tear from her cheek, recovering.

He was doing that thing again, with his eyes. But this time she didn't look away.

Then she saw it; what Spike saw in her.

Her face fell. "Spike..."

His brow furrowed, and he looked away. "Don't say it."

Buffy opened her mouth, and closed it again. "I can't..."

"I said, DON'T say it."

She touched his face. "I'm sorry."

Spike exhaled and looked up, shifting uncomfortably. "Don't be."

After one last pained look, he swooshed away, duster flaring behind him.

Buffy watched him go, confusion etching her features.

She didn't follow.

She couldn't.


Spike was in love with her.





THE END




(A/N: I know, you hate me for leaving it open-ended like that, but this fic is so old and I'm so over it, that's where it will stay. However! I'm pretty sure that everything I'm posting from this point forward has an actual resolution, if that helps any.)