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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was supposed to just be the prologue, but it's too short to post on it's own, so this is both that and the first chapter.
Prologue: The Spell

“Let the healing power begin. Let my will be safe again. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken.”

Buffy’s head felt a little fuzzy, and her eyes were closed, but she didn’t need eyes or superior brain power to discern one important fact: she was laying on top of – and kissing – a very built guy, whose lips were…

They were amazing. Buffy mentally dubbed them the Lips of Good, and made no move to remove herself from them. Sure, for all she knew she was about to be stabbed in the back or something (Hellmouth here! Waking up without knowing where you are was generally bad), but… Lips of Good! Amazing, heavenly Lips of Good!

Buffy stopped thinking altogether when the Lips of Good became more forceful at the same time as The Hands entered the equation, finding her breasts, her own hands – already under the guy’s shirt and feeling his rock-hard abs – faltering in their tracing of The Body as her entire body melted into Slayer-goo.

Buffy was dimly aware of other noises, people yelling her name, but at the moment she didn’t care. How often would Lips of Good come around for just any girl, let alone the Slayer? She would be enjoying them as long as possible.

Buffy suddenly became aware of It between her legs, nestled comfortably in the center of her crotch, all hard and big and… gah!

Before Buffy could do anything that she desperately wanted to do though, the Lips of Good pulled away, and she opened her eyes in an attempt to relocate them. Those lips would not be getting away from this Slayer any time soon!

Then again, they might indeed. The first thing Buffy saw when she opened her eyes was a deep cerulean blue, from the sexy bedroom eyes of the possessor of the Lips of Good. But the second thing she noticed was the way that The Hands were pushing her away and the mouth, her mouth with the Lips of Good, was twisting in disgust, the head turning to the side and spitting, all the while yelling, “Oh, bloody fucking hell, Christ on a bleedin’ stick, get off me!”

It took Buffy another second to realize she was sitting on Spike, but only about 0.3 seconds to scramble away from him in shock. The moment she was gone, he leapt to his feet and went to the corner, gagging and spitting and still continuing to swear fluently with a mix of British curses and insults, German, Fyarl, Spanish, and several other languages, both demon and human.

Buffy stared at Spike, frozen. He had the Lips of Good. Spike. Spike, the Big Bad, had the Lips of Good! And – and The Body, and The Hands – and the It!

It was simply impossible. Buffy was having a horrible, demon-brought-on, hallucination, and it obviously meant nothing, not even that her subconscious even dared to have a hint of a thought that Spike could have Lips of Good… or any of the rest!

Buffy had just managed to calm herself to the point of speaking when Willow rushed up to her. “Are you okay, Buffy? I’m so sorry! And I don’t know why the reversal spell didn’t kick in right away for you, but it’s my entire fault. I’m going to bury you in guilt cookies, I promise. I’m so, so, so, so sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy’s eyes met Willow’s, her expression dazed and horrified. “I’m not dreaming?” she begged, but the redhead shook her head, and Buffy moaned. “Oh god. Spike lips. Lips of G- Spike.” She shook her head, unable to merge the two concepts and nearly speaking her mind out loud and embarrassing herself to death.

Buffy stood, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. Xander and Anya were waiting by the door, Spike standing in between them and looking disgusted still. He was tied up – how they got rope Buffy didn’t know – and Xander took great pleasure in dragging the bleach-blond to the car.

When they all got in, Buffy ended up in the seat next to Spike, due mostly to the silent but deadly glares Spike had been sending Willow nonstop that scared the Wicca away.

Buffy sat stiffly, at first attempting to scrunch over close to Willow on her other side, but soon giving up and sitting facing forward, sneaking glances at Spike’s face, turned away from her to look out the window, and trying not to focus on the waves of tingling heat spreading through her entire body from where his right thigh was pressed against her left.



Part I: Let The Healing Power Begin

Buffy moaned. “Do I have to, Giles? My mom isn’t home; I’d be all alone with Spike for a week! Please, please, pretty please say no?”

Giles just gave her a stern look. “Buffy, please listen to me. You have to do this for several reasons. One, Spike can fight demons; he can be infinitely helpful to us in this way, and even act as your backup. Two, I’m beginning to believe that there could be a higher purpose to all this. Perhaps Spike was meant to be on the side of good, and the chip was no coincidence. He did come to us for help, after all. I can’t think of another vampire that would do so.”

Buffy shrugged, acknowledging the reasoning, as her Watcher added in a last word. “And three… I believe he’s mastered the art of annoying me to levels even Xander could never hope to reach. I’m this close to dusting him myself. And on top of all that, I have a visitor, so I need him out of the house.”

Buffy wanted to argue, to throw a fit, but what exactly could she say? ‘I’m sorry Giles, I want to go against everything that makes sense because the evil chipped vampire we’re talking about kissed me under a spell, and yeah, he was disgusted, but I’ve been having dreams about it every night for the past week, and I can’t bear to be alone with him ever again in case I jump him?’

Maybe not the best idea.


Five hours later, a very uncomfortable Buffy was walking through the darkened Restfield cemetery, accompanied by the resident evil undead hottie… scratch that last word.

Spike walked along, bored, hands stuffed in his great big pockets, and head tilted towards the ground. Soon he overtook her, however, which was fine with Buffy… and she was not trying to ogle his butt through his duster!

He stopped suddenly in front of an old crypt and frowned thoughtfully, walking inside. Buffy sighed, but didn’t attempt to ask, simply following him and standing in the doorway, leaning on her axe.

Spike examined the crypt for a while before turning back to Buffy and raising an eyebrow. “What d’you think? I bet I could patch it up quite nicely…”

Buffy couldn’t help laughing. “This dump?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” Taking out a cigarette and lighting it, he gestured around at the crypt, “Get rid of the dirt, clear out some of the skeletons, and add in a couch, telly, maybe one of those mini fridges. It’s got potential.”

Spike walked forward, brushing past Buffy, who scurried out of the way. “That’s your problem, Summers. You can’t see the potential, you’re so obsessed with how things are now or how bad they might be. How you save the world with that attitude I don’t know.”

Buffy furrowed her brow at the vampire. He is not being insightful, or sexy. Neither of ‘em! And I’m not at all jealous of that friggin cigarette that he’s rolling around in his mouth, and sucking on, and – stuff like that. Obviously.

She remained silent, and Spike had just let out a sigh of boredom when his head whipped to the side and a feral grin lit up his face. “Demon to the right!” he called happily, dashing away.

Buffy followed as quickly as she could, but her lack of vampire speed, her somewhat heavy axe, and her tight leather pants both conspired to make sure that she arrived on the scene nearly two minutes after Spike.

Buffy gasped in shock. Spike was busy fending off a green tentacled beast that looked like it belonged in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, and was about three times his size. Buffy quickly leapt to his aid and sliced off a tentacle reaching at him from behind with an axe she had brought. Spike was fighting with only his fists, and so was at a distinct disadvantage.

At the moment he was attempting to rip out the tentacles, but each one seemed to have a life of its own. After a minute of silent fighting, Spike called out, “You seen it?”

Buffy staggered back and sliced at tentacle attempting to wrap around her neck. “Seen what?”

Spike roared in frustration. “One of the tentacles, it’s pink. That’s the one that’ll kill this git; just chop it in half.”

Buffy nodded. “Can do.” There were another few minutes of silent battle, before Buffy stepped the wrong way, and both she and her axe were flung twenty feet away.

Clambering to her feet, Buffy groaned and ran forward, searching for Spike, who had seemed to vanish inside the mass of green limbs. Then she caught sight of him, right in the middle, near the maw. He was being held tight by at least ten tentacles, and slowly being drawn closer.

And right by his foot was the pink tentacle.

Buffy dashed forward, leapt in the air, and swung the axe right through the pink tentacle just as the bottoms of Spike’s boots started to fizzle and hiss from the acidic saliva.

The entire creature melted, leaving Buffy and Spike alone. Tired, bloody, and – in Spike’s case – recently almost killed, but still standing.

Buffy turned from where she had been standing and let her axe drop, a hole burned right through the steel where a large dollop of saliva hit it. Glancing at the axe and then at Spike’s shoes, Buffy frowned. “You nearly died.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah.”

She looked up to meet Spike’s gaze, and for a long moment neither moved at all, just staring at each-other. Then, before either of them could really understand what was going on, they were in each-other’s arms, mouths fused together.

Buffy’s arms slid around Spike’s neck, and his around her waist, as they each pulled the other close, every inch of their bodies pressed together. Buffy opened her mouth, and right away his tongue slid in, battling with hers in a way that made her entire body feel on fire.

Their hands didn’t stay still for long either, Buffy’s coming up to fist in Spike’s impossibly soft hair, while his went to clutch her ass and lift her closer to him.

In response, Buffy lifted up her legs to wrap around his waist, causing Spike to stumble backwards and trip over a low headstone. He landed flat on his back on the ground, Buffy straddling him, their mouths not parting once the whole time.

They both kissed ferociously, just like they fought, but all too soon for either it was over; again, just like their fights. As if following some invisible cue, Buffy and Spike each pulled back, panting.

Spike didn’t spit or shout this time; he just gasped for air, laying his head back on the cool grass. “Oh god…”

Buffy didn’t even bother to roll off of Spike, instead just burying her head into his chest. Both self-consciously removed their hands from the other, then there was a long pause in which the only sound was their ragged breathing.

After nearly five minutes, Spike spoke reluctantly, eyes still closed and head laid back. “We’re gonna have to sort this, Slayer.”

Buffy, face still buried in his chest, made a noise that sounded like “nnyagah”.

Spike slowly lifted his head up from the grass to look at the Slayer on top of him. “Get up. We’ve got to – we need to suss this out.”

When a very reluctant Buffy got off of him and sat on a tombstone, Spike began to pace back and forth, lighting a cigarette and running a hand through his well-mussed hair.

“It was just the… no, no after-effects on the rest. Maybe it’s a reaction to this demon – and last was the spell… or it’s just fighting, and that was it both times…”

Buffy sighed, getting up from her tombstone. “Stop pacing, you’re getting me dizzy.”

Spike stopped and turned to face her, waving his cigarette. “Why are you so calm? You shouldn’t be so bloody calm!”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Calm down. What are you doing?”

Spike gaped at her, his cigarette nearly falling out of his mouth. “What do you mean, what am I doing? We hate each-other, and then suddenly we’re snogging like a couple of randy teenagers! Something is wrong here! I’m trying to figure out why -”

Buffy opened her mouth to say something, her momentary calm dissipating, but Spike interrupted himself mid-sentence, “It was – whatever it was doesn’t matter. It was just a fluke. Hate sex. Well, hate snogging. It happens, and then you go back to normal, and hate each-other.” He breathed deeply on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smushing it under his boot.

Buffy, who had been frantically thinking this whole time, alternating between ‘Lips of Good! Need Lips of Good!’ and ‘wrong, wrong, wrong!’ nodded. “Yeah. It – it was. I hate you. And you hate me. And we just m-made out because we were… were… uh, horny! After killing the demon. That’s it! We still hate each-other, though.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Right.”

This entire time, they had been walking, and now they had reached Buffy’s house. Both glanced at it nervously, then Buffy walked in, followed by Spike.

“You’ll, uh, you can, um, sleep on the couch. Yeah. And I’ll just, I won’t… Look, don’t leave and I won’t do… something bad to you!”

Spike nodded once. “Yeah. Alright. Yeah. OK.”

Buffy nodded determinedly, and turned to walk up the stairs. Having a second thought, she turned back to Spike, opening her mouth to speak.

And flew into his arms.

He was quick to respond, grabbing her and opening his mouth to welcome her, the Lips of Good once again doing their magic, making Buffy melt in his arms and have to put her arms around his neck for support.

Buffy closed her eyes, becoming lost in the newest kiss. Though it had started fierce and hungry like the last, it had somehow switched to a gentler kiss, more… exploratory. Yes, that was the word. Spike was taking his time to explore her mouth thoroughly, and Buffy was doing the same with him.

Of course, it managed to be hot as all hell, too.

Finally, the kiss ended, and once again, Buffy and Spike didn’t pull away immediately. Her arms still wound around his neck, and his around her back, their foreheads rested against each-other, and their lips were millimeters apart.

Buffy spoke first, gazing into his eyes. “Um, don’t forget to tack up a blanket over the window. They’re in the hall closet.”

Spike chuckled, then replied, “Ta Goldilocks. Don’t particularly fancy wakin’ up a pile of dust.”

Buffy ran her tongue over her lips unconsciously, also wetting his because their mouths were so close. “Yeah. Yeah. Because then who’d I be able to threaten?” she asked with a pout.

Spike’s eyes were drawn to her bottom lip as he muttered words, only half-realizing what he was saying. “Oh… pouty. Look at that lip…”

Buffy felt as though she was starving for something as necessary as air, something no-one else could give her – only Spike. “Gonna get it?”

Spike smirked, “Oh yeah…” he leant forward the tiniest amount, and pulled her bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it slightly with his teeth and tongue before she turned it into a real kiss.

This kiss was the most gentle yet, their mouths moving slowly and sweetly, nothing like any of the wish spell’s loud smacking kisses, or even the lusty ones from earlier. This kiss was that of lovers… not hate sex, fuck buddies, or boyfriend and girlfriend, but lovers.

Then they both pulled back, and each turned in a different direction, Buffy to the stairs, and Spike back down the hall to the living room, first stopping to pick up some blankets from the hall closet to cover the windows.

Both stayed awake for hours, sleepless.





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