Author's Chapter Notes:
This is just a short scene that came to me and wouldn't go away till I wrote it.
Buffy tossed restlessly upon the bed, her mind in turmoil as the events of the evening tore through her mind over and over. How could Willow do this do her? Talking incessantly about how bummed she was by Oz’s departure was one thing. But using ‘do thy will’ spells to get her engaged to Spike was something completely different. Even if it was just an accident, the thought of it made her want to shove a stake right through Spike’s undead heart.

It hadn’t even been nice. Even though she had been completely convinced of her undying love for him, she still hadn’t liked him. And they had fought practically the entire time. Well, when they weren’t doing…other…things.

Buffy stifled a dismayed groan in her pillow at the thought. It just wasn’t possible that she’d spent that much time kissing Spike. And not just light brushes of the lips either, but full-on unbridled passion. His mouth crushed against hers as their tongues dueled, tasting each other. Their bodies straining to get closer. His hands caressing her fevered body. As the memories washed over her, Buffy heard herself groan once again. This time it had nothing to do with dismay.

With a shocked gasp she sprung off the bed. No way was this happening. She was NOT getting all hot and achy over Spike! It was the spell obviously. Yeah. Of course. The residual effects of these spells always took time to fade. Right? All she needed was a little exercise to get all that pent up energy out of her system.

Buffy dressed quickly and made her way out of the dorm, heading straight for the cemetery. “Please let there be a few fresh graves tonight,” she prayed. “I could really use a good slay. Preferably a blonde.”

**********

Spike furiously clenched and unclenched his fists as he paced back and forth, wearing a track in the dewy grass beneath him. Rage coursed through him like fire, as evidenced by the soft growls that echoed through the darkness around him.

An hour ago he had been content to seethe quietly, tied to a chair in the Watcher’s house, fantasizing about the night he would make the Slayer pay for every humiliation he had faced at her hand. But that damn Englishman had wandered the house aimlessly, completely drunk but obviously disturbed by the night’s events. Every time those frowning eyes had passed over him an almost imperceptible shudder had run through Giles, until Spike’s blood was fairly boiling. He may be a demon but surely the sight of his more amorous side hadn’t been that bloody repulsive. If it wasn’t for the chip in his head he would have broken the bloody toff’s neck.

He made his move as soon as Giles had stumbled to his bed. Focusing his newfound hatred of the place, Spike had found the added strength necessary to break the bonds he’d been straining against all week. He’d headed straight for the one place where he felt at home: the cemetery. But the atmosphere of death and gloom that clung to the place had done nothing to soothe his anger, or his hard-on for that matter. That bitch was going to be the death of him. And the spell had only made things worse.

At the sound of footsteps crunching over fallen leaves Spike spun around to find Buffy just metres away from him. She did not look happy.

**********

“Spike,” Buffy spat the word out in disgust. His answering low growl sent a shiver down her spine as she remembered drawing the same response earlier in the evening when she ran a few well-placed fingernails over his cool skin. The thought infuriated her even as her breath quickened. How dare he intrude upon her night yet again, reminding her of things best forgotten? Stalking toward him she took a moment to savour the sudden wariness in his eyes before pulling back her fist and landing him a good one square on his jaw.

“Aaaargh! What the hell was that for you silly bint?” Spike gently poked at his bruised face as he straightened to glare at her. His fingers itched as his imagination ran gleefully through a dozen ways he could kill her. In every one she died screaming his name. Bloody chip.

“What are you doing here Spike? Shouldn’t you be chained to Giles’ bathtub like a good little neutered vampire?”

“What can I say Love,” Spike smirked. “Your Watcher got careless.”

Anger and fear flashed suddenly in Buffy’s green eyes as she took a menacing step toward him. “If you’ve hurt one hair on his head…”

“Relax Pet,” Spike replied, quick to dispel her fears lest he end up going another round as her punching bag. “He’s not too handy with a rope when he’s sozzled is all.”

“Oh.” Buffy felt her anger deflate as suddenly as it had appeared.

For long moments they stood looking at each other, neither sure what to do next.

“What are you doing out so late anyway,” he finally asked. “I thought you’d be all tucked up in your little slayer bed by now.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I do have a job you know. Protect the innocent and all that.”

Snorting, Spike took a closer look at her and recognised the tension in her body. She was practically vibrating with it. A slow smirk crept across his face. “Oh, I see.”

Buffy’s head snapped up at his tone and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What exactly is it that you think you see Spike?”

“Someone’s feeling a bit wound up after our little time together.” He let his eyes wander over her delectable body. “That’s the good thing about violence isn’t it Love. More satisfying than a cold shower.”


Drawing back her arm Buffy prepared to punch Spike for the second time that night, only to find her fist caught deftly in his hand. “Now now Pet, there are other ways to release all that tension.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sneered back at him. “If anyone here is wound up it’s you. I’m simply here to hunt vampires. It has nothing to do with what happened tonight. I hate to spoil your fantasy Spike, but you didn’t exactly rock my world.”

Spike chuckled, “That’s not what you said when you were sitting on my lap, grinding that cute little butt against me.”

Buffy’s earlier words, said in a moment of pure passion, suddenly echoed in her mind. Oh Spike, no one’s ever made me feel the way you do. She grimaced, even as her body reacted to the memory.

Rallying her defenses Buffy shot back at him, “Well at least I didn’t get down on one knee and spout teary-eyed marriage proposals.” As she turned to stalk away Spike grab her arm to pull her back around. His face was inches from her own and she shivered in unwanted excitement.

“The proposal was the spell Honey. The love might have been false but your body responded to mine all on its own. Hot and wet and wanting. Red’s spell didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Well I wasn’t the only one left wanting,” she replied. “I could feel how hard you were for me.”

They stood unmoving, chests heaving, eyes locked as silent messages of acknowledgement passed between them. The very hardness she’d mentioned throbbed painfully in Spike pants and he had to bite back a groan when he heard Buffy whimper in need.

Violently yanking her arm out of his grasp Buffy finally broke their gaze. Without a word she turned and ran back to her dorm. Taking a moment to collect herself she eased silently into her room. Her eyes rose upward as she thanked God that Willow was still sleeping. Grabbing a towel she headed straight for the bathroom.

It was time for a long cold shower.

-The End-





You must login (register) to review.