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Author's Chapter Notes:
I know, it's an odd thing to have, but my friend adores James Bond, I adore Spike - it seemed a good idea at the time. I love Spike Blond; I have three complete stories and one wip in this series so I'll be adding more often. Much gratitude to my friend, Julie for the spark that made me write and to Lou for her tireless and invaluable beta-work.
Chapter 1

The classic Aston Martin DB5 pulled up outside the nondescript facade of the Magic Box, Sunnydale. With an ease that spoke of long practice, the muscled forearm of the driver engaged the parking brake and flicked the gearlever to neutral. Turning off the ignition, the platinum blonde removed the keys and opened the door. Swinging his lean legs out of the low bucket seat, he smoothed nonexistent creases from his Saville Row suit and removed a miniscule speck of fluff marring the perfection of the cloth. His hands were masculine but manicured, not overly so, just clean and with well-trimmed nails. As he gripped the keys in his left hand he pushed off the seat with his right, the expensive watch with its luminous dial glinting in the moonlight.

Stepping away from the silver sleekness of his automobile, he pushed the door closed behind him and without looking back aimed the key-fob at the car and clicked. The doors locked with a satisfying thunk and a faint buzz could be heard around the vehicle as though the air surrounding it was ionised. An unfortunate moth, drawn to the light the car reflected, fizzled out as it hit the electrical current running through the bodywork. This was no ordinary car.

And this was no ordinary man. Car and man were well matched; both sleek and silver, both with an elegant exterior belying the barely restrained primal energy within. Pocketing the keys and adjusting the silk tie at his neck, he wore a wry smile on his face as he pushed open the door and entered the unremarkable interior of the shop.

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

The blonde behind the counter looked up and her heart lurched in her chest; she’d known he was coming in, W had advised all senior staff to expect him. But still, the sight of him striding with feline grace through the dusty interior of this simple building, hands casually thrust in the pockets of his trousers, cheekbones razor-sharp in the unforgiving light of the fluorescents above, she forgot to breathe. If she died now with his features imprinted on her memory - it would be enough. Almost enough.

"Ah, Miss Summerpenny, my night is now complete. Your beauty sings to my heart!"

Clasping her delicate hand in his, he slowly raised it to his lips, kissed the back and then pressed his lips to her palm, all the while holding her eyes in a diamond-blue gaze that turned her insides into molten lava. The intensity of the moment made her gasp, her nipples sprang to attention against the rough lace of her bra and the miniscule piece of lace masquerading as her knickers was soaked with the flow of her sexual juices.

God, she had absolutely no control over her body whenever he was around. And he obviously had no idea of the way he made her feel.

Shaken by the emotions he stirred up inside her, she instantly became all business and snatched her hand from his cool grasp. Everything about him was ice-cold; he was a 00 agent - his poise legendary, nothing could affect him. Male and female suitors alike pursued him, each intent on breaching his icy shell and being the one to melt his reserve. None came close. Hell, he would fuck anything that moved and if he had to shoot them in the head in the morning, they died happy. It was all just part of the job to him: nobody touched his soul.

That was going to change: she intended to be his salvation.

But he only saw her as the provider of missions, arranger of travel, and supplier of false passports. He didn't see her as a woman - at least not as a desirable woman. Sure, he flirted with her, threw innuendoes her way all the time with a tilt of his head and a smirk on his face. But he never intended to follow through, and that really pissed her off!

She knew her figure was good and no way was she bad looking, in fact she was asked out every day working in the shop which fronted for the mission. She had even dated a few of the hopeful guys who had plucked up the courage to speak to her. But they knew by the time the date had ended there was no more to be had. Her heart belonged to another. Despite everything she tried - hypnotism, cognitive therapy, alcohol, and one memorable time with marijuana, it still came back to this..........she wanted only him. Every other male was a pale imitation of this perfect specimen of manhood; well demonhood.

Emerging from her reverie, she snapped her slack jaw shut. He had removed his jacket, slinging it over one shoulder as he strolled towards the back of the shop. There was an entrance to the secret chamber below to the left of the bookshelves; the downstairs housed the brains of the operation. Her heart did a two-step when he glanced back over his shoulder to wink at her before disappearing into the darkness.

Ok, now she needed to pay a visit to the little girl's room.

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

"Come in, Agent 00666, sit down. There's been a development, and we need you to check it out."

"But of course, W. I'm at your................service."

He swept his gaze over her pale features, taking in her glorious red hair and huge eyes. It was strange having a female boss, even though he'd always been a huge fan of womanly wiles; but she was a decent woman, straightforward and intelligent, and he had a healthy respect for her.

Willow became annoyed at the smirk on his face. Typical man, five minutes in a room with a woman and they think they hold the stage. Boy would he be shocked if he knew she didn't even drive stick; she was more likely to ask his sister out than him, but it'd hurt his manly pride so she didn't enlighten him. In point of fact, she'd met his sister - Tara she recalled - and she was a definite hottie in a very understated way, albeit an undead one. She must ask him for her number.

Knocking back the glass of diet coke, she slammed the glass down on the table.

"The mission's this………...two days ago a consignment of holy water was taken from under our noses. No warning, no coded messages - just gone. Now you know the fight's escalating against the enemy and a key part of that is our ability to take them by surprise. I'd say that was now a thing of the past. They know what we were planning to do - we no longer have the means to carry that out. Global drenching of the vampire population of Sunnydale is off the menu."

Taking a drag on the cheroot held between her middle fingers on her right hand, Willow kicked back her chair and placed her well-polished shoes on the desk in front of her. Fixing the agent with a steely glare she spoke harshly, "The thing is, 00666, we're running out of options. The ball of sunlight thing - washout; turns out garlic is just a folk-tale and hardly any of them sleep on sanctified soil."

"We need the inside knowledge on the vamps of this town...and being one of them, you're just the man, figuratively speaking."

The pale figure of the vampire nodded in acknowledgement. Sprawling decadently in the leather chair, he spread his legs wide, lifting his right foot to rest on the left knee and ran his hand seductively up from ankle to knee where his hand now rested, a distracting pointer for W’s determined stare.

"You know me, W, I always like to oblige a lady."

That grin could ignite damp tissue with its spark. Willow batted for the other team but even her pulse raced at the blatant sexuality this being exuded. Her eyes raked his body, taking in the chiselled features, the strong hands and the muscular yet compact physique. Heck, she could appreciate a fine fiddle, even if she didn't want to play a tune on it.

Dragging herself away from her aesthetic appreciation, she continued. "Oh, please, 00666, - save your misogynistic posturing for the mission. We need you to infiltrate the local cadre of vampires and work against them from the inside. You're unknown here, and if you can tone down your more flamboyant tendencies, I'm sure you'll soon be a part of the action."

Again with the double entendre! He seemed to be holding her tongue captive and snaking it out at his will. The raised right eyebrow fuelled her righteous anger.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go and report to G; he's been working on a number of anti-sunlight devices which may prove useful and also has a unique twist on the vampire reflection issue."

With supple grace, the spy uncoiled from the club chair and shook himself. Settling his clothing around him like a second skin, he leaned over W to collect his discarded jacket, exposing her to the raw magic of his scent. She inhaled sharply, in spite of herself, and found that she was leaning towards him. She took in the salty tang of his skin, cooler than her own, and the faint metallic scent of blood that marked him as something other than human. God, he was a sexual predator!

Thankfully, once the jacket was hooked carelessly over his little finger he backed away and with a swirl of expensive cloth he stalked out of the door.

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

Stepping across the corridor and swiping his key card along the entrance pad, he swung open the heavy door that marked the inner sanctum of the entire operation. Everything past this door was classified "Eyes Only" and had a Grade 1 clearance requirement. Naturally, he was accredited with both. Striding purposefully through the armoured doorway, he entered the body scanner which registered him in a cold, dispassionate voice as "Room temperature - genre, vampire; retinal scan identity confirmed - Agent 00666; licensed to kill."

"Thanks ever so," he muttered and moved further into the hangar-sized room.

"Ah, 00666! You're here at last; I've been expecting you. Well, come on, come on - don't stand about. I need you over here."

"Didn't realise you felt that way about me, G. I mean, I know we're close and all..."

"What? Oh, I see - humour! Your charm won't work on me, old man; I'm immune. So, to work. First, give me your watch."

Holding out his left hand whilst rummaging through a drawer with his right, the chief provisioner tutted to himself. Locating the replacement timepiece, he looked up again, just in time to see the vampire reaching towards a bottle of scotch on the workbench.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" he shouted, causing the spy to still his hand. "It isn't what it seems; it'll melt the skin off you quicker than a blowtorch on butter."

The vampire retracted his hand slowly. "Good call, G."

Swapping the watch he had removed from his right wrist for the one being held out by the master provisioner, he checked the usual functions and tilted his head in a quizzical manner.

"Pay attention, 00666. The watch is standard issue, of course, but with a few enhancements especially for this mission. Now - pull out the winder – carefully. Don't jerk it. See? Garrotte wire, handy for beheading the undead beggars...."

Noticing the raised eyebrow, G continued, “No disrespect intended, old man."

Smoothly, he continued to enumerate the extras he'd introduced; "Rotate the bezel anticlockwise - the display becomes an infrared detector calibrated to seek room-temperature bodies; rotate the other way - aaah, I see you hear it..."

William had immediately covered his ears with his hands, inadvertently bringing the source of the painful noise closer to his eardrums, and seemed incapable of speech. G reached up to his right wrist and flicked the bezel of the watch. The vampire's tense stance relaxed and straightening up he fixed G with an icy stare.

"Sorry about that - we needed a final test on the frequency and you being the only vampire agent... seems to work spiffingly! Too high for human ears but as we can see, vampire hearing is more acute. Absolutely marvellous!"

The look on the vampire's face would have frozen mercury.

After checking out the equipment he would need for the mission, standard and also some specifically designed to deal with vampires, William headed back up into the main store. Stopping by the counter, he leaned over it scanning left and right. There was no sign of Miss Summerpenny, damn it.

Despite his self-enforced isolation from women, there was something about the blonde PA that piqued his interest. Over the years they'd flirted shamelessly and his hands had brushed her flushed skin on more than one occasion. He could tell she was interested - his enhanced senses picked up her racing heartbeat, quickened breathing and not least the aromatic scent of her arousal whenever they met. If it wasn't for his "never fish in the company pond" rule, he would love to take her for a spin. What a delectable creature! With a smirk he sauntered out of the door.

Buffy Summerpenny was on her way back from the ladies room when she spotted William striding across the floor to the counter. She was still flushed from her restroom activities. Damn him – it wasn’t fair! He made her crazy with desire and after his azure blue eyes had flashed veiled promises of sexual fulfilment earlier, well - simply put she had an itch and it demanded to be scratched. So she had scratched it, biting her lip to silence her moans of ecstasy and all the time seeing his sculpted face behind her closed eyelids.

After adjusting her clothing, smoothing her hair and splashing her face with cold water to stem the flush of post-orgasmic satisfaction creeping across her cheeks, she returned to her station. Seeing him nearby caused an atomic reaction in her panties despite her release of moments before and she came to an abrupt halt to watch him, her hand over her mouth. After pausing for a moment, he exited the shop and she sighed deeply, disappointment at his departure clouding her mood.

TBC...





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