Self Promotion

Part One
Spike Pratt was a suave piece of work. With legs so long and luscious, girls just wanted to lick them. And many did.

First thing his agent said to him when landing this gig was, “Watch out for the women.” Warren was a pervert but a pervert excellent at his job. Weasels had a staunch hold on Hollywood and that worked out just fine for Spike.

Spike was almost bashful when he landed the part on “Exist”, TV’s hottest and only cult sci-fi that dealt in intelligence which normally caused problems for Spike at conventions. Nevertheless, the women loved him.

Exist’s creator, Andrew Wells, was a top class nerd, grumpily reintroducing himself to Spike on the first day of shooting for the current episode with the words, “You actors, with your pretty faces and your beautiful hair. You get all the women and we writers get nothing.” Spike was so shocked at this little blonde guy that he took a step back and tried to rationalise.

Spike was promptly told, “Yeah, but you are going to get laid all your life off this role.”
And boy did Spike take up on that assertion.

Spike had refrained from sleeping with his female co-stars; professionalism and all that rot, though that didn’t stop him from buggaring the men stupid. He rarely went a day without sex, didn’t matter what sex as long as he could thrust somewhere. He royally shagged Rupes or Liam whenever the opportunity presented itself, which was normally in the trailers during breaks. He coaxed Wes and Dan slowly with the incentive of a woman rather than the one-on-one, rough, up against the wall style of sex with his other actor colleagues but eventually he got all of their pants off. Didn’t stop him from having a girl in his bed every night. And it all started with his personal assistant.

When the chit told him he was beneath her, Spike hired Cecily on the spot. He then proceeded to fuck her rotten, sideways, upside down, behind, and his personal favourite full of irony: immobile. He chained the dangerous brunette to his bed and demonstrated just how beneath him she really was. And then she never took any of his shit again.

He had gotten famous beyond repair, appearing in endless gossip rags about the dispensable women and his contraction of Chlamydia. That was the worst month of his life, even worse than the morning two years previous.

The fateful Saturday morning, two years into working on Exist, his life changed. He met Drusilla. He’d gazed at the girl from back home who was working PR media into hypes, and fell for her trance-inducing eyes. Spike eased off sleeping with other women, servicing his dangerous princess and occasionally getting the helpful hand of Liam to conclude the night’s tryst.
But the bitch left him at the aisle. He was standing there waiting for Drusilla while she diddled a fucking choirboy before riding off in a taxi.
So he fucked her bridesmaids.

And now, he was at the catalyst for what would become the best decision of his entire life. If he’d been smarter, he’d have listened to the message Andrew was trying to communicate on Exist. Spike’s life became a mix of stage time, pub time and fuck time. And he was like an automaton, every day walking between the three, and starting to feel not a damn thing.

The stupidest women on earth had gotten clingy but for all the wrong reasons. Harmony Kendall told herself and Spike that she loved her ‘Blondie Bear’ and she’d do everything she could to help him get up. For the first time in his life he’d had trouble getting an erection. He blamed the blonde bint. Cecily blamed him for using his dick like it wasn’t expendable. Little did he realise that he’d worn himself into a hole in the ground. He was practically living a deviant’s schedule that had exhausted his body into a state of nothingness. He was even worse off than the vampire character he played on the existential show.

The catalyst was the reason Harmony finally left him. Spike told the blonde imbecile he loved syphilis more than her. She reminded him that he had had Chlamydia and then said she couldn’t deal with the bad sex and the lack of motor functions anymore. So she steamed off and he turned to his fans for a little pick me up.

When he first started up the computer, he intended to go looking for good old fashion internet porn. Hot chicks fucking other hot chicks. What he got instead was something that crinkled at the cockles of his dried up heart. That was if it wasn’t non-existent.

Googlebater wasn’t a term he was familiar with but he was seeking something to make him feel better that wasn’t alcohol (he’d get that once he got off the net. His stock was low in his penthouse apartment). He typed in his name and brought up endless pages of fan sites. He smirked. Didn’t matter what the stupid chit said, he was loved. After getting that ego boost, he decided to head back to his original plan of the hot lesbian porn, forgetting to clear Spike Pratt from the search box.

Instantly, all those fan sites turned to endless databases and archives of stories, some featuring his character, Jack, and the two female leads, Anne and Faith, making with the hot threesome sex. For the first time in the month he’d been seeing Harmony, his cock shot up.

“Jesus.” The almost self voyeurism he’d stumbled upon had made him harder than he’d ever been in his 36 years of living. And he smiled broadly at the screen at the sheer kinkiness.

Thousands of members and double the amount of stories were there for him to peruse, all written with the image of him in their delicious little minds. He clicked on one author’s name, then another and then another. Spike was almost bright red with the pressure built up from his lower back to the top of his tense thighs, his pelvis practically humming with literal sexual tension. Every writer he clicked upon was a woman. And that was the icing on the cake.

Spike’s imagination went haywire; his thoughts drifting from one delicious image to the next as he casually stroked himself. God, he was stiff, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His hand rested on the tip of his throbbing appendage. Spike was frozen in ecstatic pain. If he moved an inch he’d come all over the computer screen and that’d be one explanation he didn’t want to make to the computer techs.

Spike imagined the women all across the world working to rhythms he dared to live up to. Their hands greedily rubbing and pumping all over their luscious bodies; their long legs strewn in front of their computers, one delicate ankle resting upon the monitor while their toned thigh screamed with tension. They lifted their other leg to reach around the big black monitor and rest beside the right speaker, their eyes furiously scanning the bright screens. As one, the thousands of women would remove their fingers from their snatch and bring them up to their beautiful lips, sucking themselves off. Their hips would begin the rise and fall along the ridged spine of the desk chair they straddled, coming and coming with his face on their minds.

Spike began to breathe normally as he came down from the happy blaze his brain had tumbled into. His hand was sticky. Looking at the screen, he smirked. The words described Faith bringing Anne to an almighty orgasm as Jack spanked Anne and chastised both of the women. His dick hadn’t moved and he was still more erect than he’d been in years.

From that day, Spike was addicted to Janne fan fiction (though he detested that something as sexy as his character getting with Mary Jane Gellert was called something that sounded like one of his aunts). Spike woke early in the mornings so he could read the latest update while bringing himself off before running into work.

His didn’t sleep much, reading into the early hours of the morning and even buying a laptop so he could read the updates at work. He didn’t know who cleaned his trailer, but he was glad there was a new box of tissues in there every couple of days and the trash wasn’t commented on.

Three months after the first night, Spike finally (while smirking) created an account on Janney Realm. He had some world class internet based acting to do. For the first time in his acting career, the reviews would be welcomed.

*************************************

Buffy arched her back, resting her hands on her hips and slowly circling her thumbs into the tender muscles. She looked at the tiny time in the bottom of the right hand corner of the screen and gasped. She’d been on the computer for eight hours straight.

Buffy Summers was a single mum, her twins Tara and Amy safely tucked in their beds as she shifted through the endless membership requests and new stories on her website, Janney Realm. She really loved Exist, allowing her reason to get through her traumatic years after her mother died and the conception and pregnancy of the twins. Now Jack and Anne had finally got together on the show and their understanding of existential existence came to fruition, all the Janne shipper’s stories were totally vindicated. Buffy was ecstatic. She loved Spike Pratt in the only way you can love a celebrity: undying adoration coupled with ignorance to their [m]any flaws.

Buffy had managed to watch Exist from the first time it aired and was instantly addicted to the ideas and the sexy lead man. And when she could barely hold on to her own life, Exist became something to look forward to each week. Her fellow shippers began the Janne fan fiction and bam! Buffy had a place to exist. And it was the only place she could fictionalise multiple orgasms with authenticity.

Buffy saw the long list of new members and stories she had yet to get through and decided that an extra hour couldn’t hurt. The newest member name caught her eye: Icame4Spike. She clicked through to their profile page and noticed no real name and an empty bio. Her automatic email to confirm their membership would have been sent but she was feeling particularly perky after just watching a Youtube vid on Spike Pratt so she sent through a message.

To: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
From: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
Hi there Icame4Spike, I’m Buffy and I run Janney Realm. Just wanted to say welcome (which I probably said in the automatic email) but I was just interested in your name. Care to tell how you came across that one? Is that a double entendre or is Spike Pratt as big a ladies man as I hear. Most of us are girls, so I just wanted to know a bit more about you if you care to divulge. Feel free to fill in the bio from the options on Account Info page.
Need any help or someone to chat to, you know my email :D.
Buffy

Buffy was surprised when she instantly got an email back.

From: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
To: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
Buffy, love, what an interesting name. You’re a prat? Cause you’re not acting like one, sending a sweet lil’ email to an innocent new member. Don’t really think I’m interesting enough to warrant a bio so I’ll just say I love big red juicy steaks and blondes.
W aka Icame4Spike
Buffy was glued to the screen, rereading the lines, trying to figure out this character.

To: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
From: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
What’s the W stand for, W?
Or are you like in Bond where they only have the one letter initial?
Buffy

To: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
From: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
To Dear Buffy,
Yeah you are exactly right, but how’d you know I’m British when my IP says I’m in LA?
W

To: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
From: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
To Mysterious W,
One of my little girls is crying, if you want to chat real time, pop into the C-Box on the front page of the site. Enjoy reading the latest updates!
Buffy

Buffy rushed into the girls’ bedroom and smoothed Tara’s hair away from her face.

“What’s wrong, baby? Have bad dreams again?”

Her darling little blonde head nodded and Buffy sighed. She scooped Tara up into one arm and managed to sleep walk Amy into the main bedroom. Buffy spent another night with her girls while the computer was left, the hard drive whirring as the updates and emails continued to flow into her inbox.

Part Two

Spike was addicted. Terribly, terribly addicted. The fan fiction had him suggesting character traits to the writers. It had him forgetting to memorise his lines in lieu of fan fic reading time. The women fan writers had such diverse lives and they were just as addicted to the tellie show as they were to these stories. They were just as addicted to these stories as he was. Just as addicted to Spike as he was.
So addicted he started writing.

Spike’s first story was incredibly narcissistic. It was beyond self indulgent and self promotion even though it was entirely sweet, with a huge helping of hotness. Spike wrote a Jack/Jack story.

In the dark depths of the deepest night, Jack stood upon the ridge of an imposing cliff. He pondered. Would life be worth it, once the prophecies were complete and Anne would fall? Would he, Jacob the blessed son of the Amara Coven, fall on the outs with his clan and follow Anne into the misty realms of death... well, the death where you were just a spirit on a plain of endless souls. Jack looked into the starless sky and wished for a reprieve, never guessing his wish would be granted.
Following the beaten trail back to his cell in the Guardian’s basement, Jack ran straight into his wish.

“Holy crap, what the heck are you?”

His identical twin glared at Jack, wanting to rip him a new one as the expletives spewed forth from Jack’s mouth.

“I’m your reprieve, jackass.”

Jack was silent for a second, his eyes trailing up and down the oh-so-similar body. What was this thing? Was it a shape-shifter? Or something mystical or a time flux? He needed help.

“You can come back to my place so we can check you out.”

His doppelganger lifted and eyebrow and reluctantly followed Jack off the cliff.

“Why so bloody glum, mate? Is it a girl?”

“Ain’t it always a girl?”

The identical pair walked in silence as the night deepened, the autumn air crisp and tangible, a promise of the winter to come. The suburban silence breathed with a stir of domesticated animals and a whirr of dormant electronics.

“Do you believe me?” The doppelganger asked Jack.

They arrived at Jack’s meagre accommodations in the bottom depths of Anne’s tutor’s house. As Jack opened the doors and beckoned Jack Mark II inside, he belatedly remembered his question.

“Believe what?”

“I’m here as you. So you can move on.”

“What if I don’t want to move on?” Jack looked up from his position on the bed where he had just settled.

“Well why the fuck did you wish for a reprieve? Now will you let me do what I came here to do so you can go bandy about with your chick?” The angry tone softened when he looked at Jack, whose hands cradled his head as hiccups rocketed up his body.

“But…I’m not…I can’t…I’m not ready to die.”

Jack Mark II sighed before slapping the approaching sobs off the original’s face.

“Pull it together buddy, your girl is waiting.”


“Can I…stay here…just for a few more hours?”

Jack Mark II hesitated before stepping forward to envelop his twin in a hug. Jack’s face rose, their noses gently touching. Jack couldn’t help it. He was going to wither into a wisp of wind and he needed to feel one last time.

Grasping his twins head, Jack pressed his lips forward to capture Jack Mark II’s.

‘Holy shit,’ Jack thought as his twin pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his waist and not questioning what was happening for a second.

The two Jack’s pants disappeared quickly and legs were wrapped around glistening bodies with not a breath passing between the two.
The only sounds were that of the camp bed squeaking and the rhythmic slap of flesh.

A brief thought fluttered through Jack’s brain that he was basically just masturbating rather than committing an act that Anne’s pastor father would denounce as a sin. Jack’s internal muscles clamped down on his doppelgangers perfect prick through the penetrative pain. Together the identical entities came and Jack groaned.

“That was…” He was dust in the coverlets of his bed before another word could be whispered.

Spike received an astonished email from Buffy after his posting, demanding to know why the Mysterious W didn’t say they were a brilliant writer. Spike smirked and went to reply straight away but he heard the cast call.

“Oh bollocks.” Spike left the laptop open in his trailer and jumped onto the passing buggy back to set. What he didn’t know was that Liam was finished for the day and would creep into Spike’s trailer, stripping bare and waiting for Spike to return.
After an hour, Liam got bored and found Spike’s open laptop.
“Well, well, well William, m’boy. What have we got here?”
Liam skimmed the open document and his erection quickly needed to be taken care of as he flicked from fic to fic reading about his and Spike’s characters giving in to their desires.

Spike eagerly trudged towards his trailer, his addiction needing to be fed. He needed to read the updates, but the more intense desire was to speak to Buffy again. He had talked to her a few times on the C-box; her humour was quick witted and he couldn’t help but laugh out loud in his empty house as she told tales of her rambunctious twins and giggled over her naughty prompts and suggestive ideas. Now, he was eager to share the tidbit of information regarding the character’s upcoming directions with her as well as thank her for her praise.

Spike stepped up the steel stairs, opened the trailer door and his jaw dropped. Flabbergasted. He was completely flabbergasted. There was Liam, jacking off to whatever was currently on the computer screen. Spike knew that without a doubt, Liam was reading his story.

“You write this, Willy?’

Spike stuttered. He didn’t move an inch into his trailer from the open door.

“Cause all these fics, boy, have got me very…very…horny.” The come spurted out of Liam’s thick dick that Spike once loved to caress as he rammed his own prick into Liam’s big fat arse and Spike shook away the memories that threatened to cloud his eyes and rushed to move the laptop away from dangerous liquids.

“Jesus Christ, mate, can’t you do that in your own trailer?”

“I thought you liked watching me, Willy.” Spike flicked an angry glare to his co-star.

“Come on. Don’t tell me that you don’t have a bone from watching me jack off to Jack Jack.” Liam’s grin widened when Spike angrily pulled off his costume and flung himself towards Liam. Spike hadn’t been with another person since Harmony left. It had just been him and the hands his mother gave him.

Eagerly, Liam bent over with no preparation and Spike took him hard and fast and then threw him out onto the backstage lot.

Shaking, Spike inhaled the deep seeded smell and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He tidied himself up and sat down on his couch with a sob. Needing to desperately forget the encounter with Liam, Spike pulled the laptop over, checked Janney Realm and opened his mail service, typing a short email to Buffy.

*************************************

To: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
From: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
Subject: Beta
Buffy,
I just saw in the C-box that you were looking for a beta. I’m happy to offer my skills at shaping the written word to help you. :-D
William

To: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
From: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Beta
OMG
The Mysterious W lets out a personal fact! Actually, several! You’re a man! You’re name is William and you are sensitive and gay.
Pity, I’m sure me and the girls would love to know you personally if you’re as hot as our other favourite William. *giggles*
Buffy
P.S. I would love for you to be my beta. I’m so nervous about this story.

To: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
From: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
Subject: I AM NOT GAY
Dear Buffy,
As you can see from the subject headline, I am not gay.
Since you want some personal information, I have typed a bio up for my profile page. Please take the time to read it.
William
P.S. Don’t be nervous ‘bout your story, love. I’m sure we’ll all love it. Send it on over when you’re right and ready.

After opening Janney Realm, Buffy clicked onto his ever present logged-in name and laughed herself silly. There beneath ‘About Me’ was a ridiculous biography that cheered Buffy up from her horrible day.

William is the only gangsta with an impeccable taste in haute couture.

William will slaughter any Rileys that threaten the existence of good hardcore word porn, though he will slaughter them with his skillz with wordz and shiz and replace all s's with z's.

William says gangsta sayings like, ‘Bitch, please, you pawn the reviews’, while sipping from his cup of chamomile tea, pinky raised.

William enjoys long walks on the industrial polluted beach and will love to hear from any women with a kink for chickens but only if they're coddling those chickens.

Occasionally he will tour with Celine Dion and once had a part as an extra in Felicity.

He loves monkeys and writes steampunk murder mysteries.


To: Icame4Spike@hotmail.com
From: Im_a_Pratt@gmail.com
Subject: Re: I AM NOT GAY
Attached: Like a Man in Love.doc
William,
That was absolutely hilarious! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT! I LOVE IT!
Are you sure you aren’t a stand up comedian? Steampunk and Celine Dion!
And there’s nothing wrong with being gay, William. There are some rumours that say Spike is secretly gay but I’ve always thought Jack and Conner Sculdered it on the show with all their sexy tension.
I attached my story, if you don’t have time to look over it today, that’s fine. I have my girls with me as I work so really, I’m not actually working. :-D
Buffy (and the girls, who are currently climbing all over me)

Buffy’s tears of laughter from the silliness quickly subsided into heaving sobs of sorrow as the day caught up with her. It was stupid, really. Not even her children could make her feel. She didn’t know what happiness was. She loved them and she smiled as they cuted up one thing to the next, but the constant worry and pressure of the judgmental world hurt Buffy too much. And today was just one of those days.

Her landlord had told her that the water pipes, in her unit only, were going to be shut off for the rest of the week for some maintenance reason. Then he proceeded to complain about the noise from her big old hard-drives and her ‘precious little freaking darlings’. She just wanted to do an Anne and decapitate him with one fell swoop of an axe.

An incensed Janney Realm member by the name of Jacks_serenity sent a horrible email degrading Buffy and the site, saying “The site looks like a dog shat on the linoleum of a retro pastiche cockroach after vomiting up meatloaf.”
Amy had wandered away from the toys when she heard her Mom start sobbing about cockroaches. “S’okay Mommy. Mr Jeffries come and squashes them.”
Her darling little voice made Buffy cry harder at the mention of her landlord. But the thing that had made Buffy truly loose it that day happened when she picked up the girls from Kindy.
There was Lindsey McDonald in the horrible Armani suited flesh. Her ex was back in town. So she wrote her first fic to let out her aggression and sent the angsty piece to a man who made her laugh.

Buffy got a short reply back stating that William would love to prove how non-gay he was through a romantic soirée in the stars, with her children as celestial attendants as they danced the tango to the moon. He suggested where to fix up the mistakes and said that he hoped that she didn’t mind if he saw her talking about her ex in the C-box because now he was going out to find the man and punch him one right in the noggin.

*************************************

Spike actually winced as he typed and sent his lies off to this sweet, innocent, and, according to her story, entirely kinky woman. His heart suddenly ached from the matter-of-fact way she typed those painful words into the C-box. He, soulless man walking, pitied her. Unsure of what these emotions were, Spike’s tears began to thicken. Then he remembered he was the one who slept with the entire cast of Gossip Girl and walked out to the nearest bar to pick up the next twig wanna-be he’d use for the night.

Part Three

Steam attempted to cover the YIM conversation speeding back and forth across the city via a convenient Blackberry and a failing computer. Spike was taking advantage of his privileges connecting to his status of the lead on Fox’s number one rated show, attempting relaxation in the steam room. He looked down at the Blackberry where he had been reading over Buffy’s latest chapter.

Icame4Spike: That’s one mean dangly you got there.
Im_a_Pratt: What?
Icame4sSpike: Dangling modifier. See look, you are trying to modify Jack but you are changing the kettle. Running madly around the kitchen, the kettle boiled to a point. Jack’s running around the kitchen, not the kettle.
Im_a_Pratt: Oh.
Im_a_Pratt: Okay, who in their right mind called it a dangling modifier? Why would anyone ever, ever use the word dangling? It leads to lots of nasty images of living in a trailer park with twenty kids.
Icame4Spike: LOL
Icame4Spike: Darling, that has to be the funniest abuse of grammar in the history of the English language.

Spike wiped away the condensation on the plastic cover protecting his Blackberry.

“What are you doing up there?” A voice sounded from beneath him.

“Who told you to stop?”

The brunet kid took Spike’s cock back into his mouth and avidly sucked.
Spike sighed. The blowjob was an attempt to ease the tension he’d felt since he saw his phone light up earlier that morning, the number originating from the only person who knew his.

Icame4Spike: Now do you want to tell me why you called me this morning and hung up straight away?
Im_a_Pratt: It wasn’t an emergency.
Icame4Spike: Run that by me one more time.
Im_a_Pratt: You gave me that number in case I ever had an emergency. It wasn’t one.
Icame4Spike: It had to be if you called me straight off the bat.

“Oh bollocks, won’t she ever learn to use bloomin’ apostrophes correctly?”

The baby-faced boy, Jon or something poofy like that, let Spike’s pale cock slip from his mouth in surprise.

“You’re proof reading someone’s text message while I give you head?”

“Didn’ I already scold you for stoppin’?”

Icame4Spike: Buffy, tell me what’s wrong. I told you, call me whenever you need to.
Im_a_Pratt: I know I trust you, I know you now. It’s been months. It’s just...
Icame4Spike: It’s just what?
Im_a_Pratt: You’re a man.
Icame4Spike: I’m well aware of that fact, love.

“For fuck’s sake! Can’t you do anything right?” Spike pushed the boy away and grabbed his softened dick, trying desperately to tease it back to its previous state from proofing Buffy’s smut.

Im_a_Pratt: Could we just forget about all that and maybe…
Im_a_Pratt: Umm
Im_a_Pratt: Maybe do that thing we did the other night? The girls are at Kindy.
Im_a_Pratt: We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I mean, you’re a guy you probably want to but…I’m kinda…I need
Icame4Spike: Buffy, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.
Im_a_Pratt: *blushes* You know my number.

Last week, Buffy had got unbearably horny from the latest Exist episode that was chock full of angsty sex and stupidly got right onto the computer and set up a voice chat with Will. They had exchanged numbers a week previous and after a few phone conversations she was in such a state that she needed to hear his upper crust British accent spell out dirty phrases that would help her…ah…finish…during a round with her hand.

Just as Spike was dialling up her number the steam room door opened and Spike groaned.

“Get your lardy hunk of monkey muscle away from me, Liam.”

“What’s got you twisted ‘round a bend, William? You got a new pretty lady you need some help with?”

“Fuck off. I got a phone call to make.”

Liam slinked forward, sweat quickly gathering all over his mostly naked body, glistening along the toned biceps and dripping from large forehead to fall to the ground.

“Mate, you’re not welcome.”

“But ‘Bite-the-dust’ here is?” Liam nodded at the boy between Spike’s legs.

“Fuck off.” Liam sat down on the bench beside Spike, flinging the white towel across the room.

“Snappy comeback. You’re really lacking lately Will. Has this bitch go you wrapped around her dainty pinky already? You finally a one-hole man?”

Calm was so far from Spike’s capabilities; his silent fury radiated from his sweating pores with such intensity that the boy at Spike’s crotch rigidly backed away.

“You don’t speak about her. Your conversations are with my cock, not where I put it.”
Liam reached out as if to grab at the sweaty flesh in front of him but Spike hand snapped out and stopped Liam from getting any closer with a deathly fierce grip.

“She’s never going to love you. Not if she knew where that rhetoric dick has been.”

Spike surged forward, Liam’s bulk hitting the jet of steam billowing up from the floor with a hmphf as Spike straddled him.

“You don’t like where it’s been Liam?”

The sweat poured off of them in bucket loads and slipped down each crevice, making it the slightest bit easier for Spike to shove his cock into Liam’s ass. Angry and dry, Spike’s eyes rolled back as he slammed his pelvis against Liam’s junky trunk, only half aware of flinging his phone towards Jonatiao Spike-Blower and telling him to call the number in the contact list. Rollicking nausea and an intense bundle of pain exploded beneath Spike’s skin, his emotions running amok. Tears welled behind closed eyelids as each dry jerk into Liam’s meal-ticket of a hole made Spike realise he never wanted to do this ever again.

He never wanted Liam to provoke him into sex. He never wanted to touch a man again, or another hussy woman for that matter, ever again. He only wanted to touch the one he’d never felt, the one he didn’t know who’d come into his life.

Leaving Liam with cum seeping out of a bloodied and bruised ass, Spike ran out of the steam room and collided with Cecily.

“Where the hell have you been? You’ve got to get ready for that—”

“Cancel it,” he said tersely.

“What the fuck, Spike? You need this.” She dogged him as he walked into the change rooms, pulling on his black jeans and fumbling with the belt.

“I got more important stuff to do than this shit, Cec.”

“No you don’t.”

And then, he broke.

Cecily was pushed against the wall and a punch flew above her head to land next to her ear, his fist flying through the panelling.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Will?” His face was so close and his breath so terrifyingly quick, Cecily had gulped at the fury that covered his body like a delicate cloak. It so quickly dissipated when she spoke those quiet words, leaving only the cracked façade of a broken man.

“Everything,” he whispered.

*************************************

Will’s number on the little digital screen made Buffy sigh in relief as she flipped open the ringing phone.

“You left me hanging, baby.”

“Umm, sorry, this isn’t Spike. This is Jonathan Levison, Andrew Wells PA. Spike can’t come to the phone right now, he asked me to say sorry and he’ll chat with you later.”

All the groinal energy that had been gathering in her pelvic region fled from Buffy’s body as shock set in.

It couldn’t be possible.

Her Will. Her William. The man she trusted, confided in. She wasn’t stupid. It was the internet. Everyone lies on the internet. But it had been more, gone beyond lonely people meeting in a chat room.

Her William was William (a.k.a. Spike) Pratt, the man she’d lusted over for almost five years. Her William was the man whose sexual exploits were slathered all over tabloids which were distributed across the globe. Her William was the man who’d been dubbed Mr Non-Commitment and Mr One Night Stand by those tabloids.

She had fallen for the devil.

*************************************

One new voice message.

“Buffy, love, pick up the phone. I know you’re home…or you’ve gone to pick up the girls from Kindy. Tell me what had you so bothered this morning. Please. Please give me a call.”

Fury swathed her tiny body as she readied the girls’ dinner. Picking up the phone when they were happily munching on their carrots, Buffy dialled his number in a huff.

“Buffy?”

“WHAT’S WRONG? WHAT’S WRONG IS THAT YOU LIED TO ME!”

“Ah, love?”

“Don’t you ‘ah, love’ me, Mr Pratt.”

Spike dropped his Blackberry.

“Oh, fuck.” His upper crust accent dissipated.

Scrambling to get a hold of the situation and his phone, Spike slipped and flailed, his legs shooting out in front of him and his ass bouncing hard onto the tiled floors.

“OW! Oh, buggar, that bloody hurt. Buffy…”

“Oh, fuck was right Mister. What are you fucking playing at?”

“It’s not like that Buffy, I’m not playing...”

“Yes you fucking are! You…oh shit you read that stuff I wrote about you. You read all the stuff the girls write about you. You egotistical maniacal... oh my God, I did that stuff with you! I’m just like all the other whores you fuck every day. Did that magazine have it right? You’re bisexual and you’re sleeping with Liam O’Reilly? What the hell am I to you?”

She finally paused, breathing heavily with anger. Buffy heard a horrible cough originate from the kitchen.

“One of my girls is choking. I need to save her, I don’t need to save you. I hope you choke to death on a stick of carrot.” She slammed the phone down and rushed to Amy.

He couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. As the fit of giggles passed, Spike knew what he had to do.

*************************************

A knock on the door.

Damn it, I can’t deal with anything else today.

“Buffy, please open the door.”

Her eyes widened.

How the hell did he know where I live?

“It’s called a phonebook, Buffy. I looked you up. I have something for you and my arms are going to break if you don’t open the door.”

She rushed to open the door, making sure a scowl was planted on her face.

It disappeared when she saw what he had brought her.

An Apple logo planted on the side of an enormous box pushed passed her and he lowered it to the floor.

“I’m really, really, really sorry, love.”

Tears filled Buffy’s still angry, death-glare eyes as the morning caught up to her. The fact that Spike Pratt was standing nervously in her apartment hadn’t registered. All she could see standing there on her worn rug was the man she’d fallen for, eager to please.

“Oh God, William.” Buffy’s knees hit the floor and Spike was there to scoop her into his arms, rocking her gently as she talked about her troubles.

Buffy rubbed her thighs together, grinning widely as she skimmed over the Wikpedia entry on cock rings. Ideas plummeted through her thoughts, the positions Jack twisted into within her mind made the squirming intensify. The front door rattled and Buffy jumped; all heat in her body freezing as she heard the horrible voice through the wooden walls.

“Buffy, open the door.”

Buffy lifted herself from her dying office chair and walked to the door as if death was knocking.

An evil conniving woman was latched onto his arm.

“Come in Lindsey. Who’s this?”

“Lilah Morgan. We’re here to see the girls.” The slimy vacuous pair strolled into her lounge room, sneering at her abode.

“Well, you can’t. They are at Kindy. Right now, it would be nap time.”
Buffy moved to the computer, and in a scene from a bad comedy, the cock ring entry wouldn’t get off the screen. Of course it wouldn’t get off. She tried to minimize, then tried to switch screens then just tried to turn the damn computer off. Flicking the reset button and turning off the monitor, Buffy hazarded a smile at her smarmy ex.

“What the hell was that on the screen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lilah wants to meet the girls.”

“I told you, they are at Kindy.”

“I’m not waiting here, Lindsey,” the woman whispered loud enough that her snobbish inflection could be heard by Buffy.

“How did you find me, Lindsey?”

“The firm requisitioned an internet company. Your name came out as one of the members.” Buffy folded her arms across her chest. Invasion of privacy was just so Lindsey.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you, Lilah wanted to see the girls.” His words only fuelled the furious flames that raged out from her heart.

“You go back on our agreement just because Lilah wanted you to?”

“Our agreement included me giving you a hefty sum of money.”

“I didn’t ask for the 50 grand, I just wanted to be left alone.”

“Yeah, well if you aren’t treating my daughters alright, maybe you will be.”

Buffy’s open mouth clamped shut. He couldn’t do that. He bought her silence with his money. He couldn’t just take away her children.

“Here’s my card. Call me when they are here.” The couple left; looks of disgust at their surroundings uncovered on their faces.

Crying, Buffy sat back at the computer table once the door was shut behind their rich elitist asses. Buffy turned the computer monitor back on but only to see blackness.
She kicked the hard drive tower in frustration, the old battered computer failing to even try to moan back into existence.

The tears were coming harder and Buffy picked up her phone, fingers poised to press the number she had memorised. Dialling with a million negative thoughts rambling across the bridge between the left and right sides of her brain, she realised that she’d called Will in a teary mess of issues that she didn’t want to bring down upon the man.

She hung up before he could answer.

She finished softly speaking, tears ready to spill down her face.

“Buffy, look at me.”

Her watery eyes lifted up to see the shine glazed across his face that trickled from his brilliant eyes.

“I’m in love with you.”