Author's Chapter Notes:
So basically this is the first fanfic I ever wrote. The time in it is accurate-I woke up at 3:17 AM and couldn't get back to bed until I wrote this down. Which is actually kind of weird, since I never wrote anything before. Anyway, I wrote this during the summer, posted it on Fanfiction.net in August, and, since no one mocked me for my horrible writing, I decided to post it here.
Buffy rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock. Through her sleep-addled haze she read the bright red digits. 3:17 AM. She groaned and rolled back over into the warm, comfy Buffy-shaped groove in the middle of her bed. She wondered what had woken her up as she tried to fall back asleep. Her body, however, had other plans and threw her feet over the edge, effectively sitting her up. For a few moments, Buffy allowed her body to pick her up and carry her across the room to the closet to get dressed. Finally, she woke up completely as she realized that she had no control over what she was doing. Then her eyes narrowed into a glare.

*Damn fanfic writers* she thought, though she was unable to voice her unpleasant opinion. *Don't they realize that I enjoy sleeping more than two hours a night?*

Her thought was forgotten as she glanced in the mirror. Not only was she wearing an incredibly tacky, not to mention completely sluttacular shiny silver dress, but her entire appearance had changed. Her hair was light brown, she was two inches shorter, *Not that anyone can tell with these 5' "fuck me" heels on,* and her face was slightly rounder. Her eyes had changed from hazel to deep blue.

*And a Mary Sue at that. If they're going to completely change the way I look anyway, why not use a different name so I can get some sleep? It's not like Spike won't fuck anything that moves.*

She was almost positive that that was where this story was headed. Fanfics about her and Angel rarely had her dressed this crass, but her and Spike? It was almost a requirement. As she headed out her room and down the hall towards the stairs, she glanced into Dawn's room. It was full of boxes of fitness supplies barely opened and Joyce's sewing supplies. Littered here and there were unwanted Christmas presents and even an ugly painting given to Joyce by Hank's mother as a wedding present.

*So, no Dawn...I'm starting to like this writer...*

Buffy headed down the stairs and out the door. She began the inevitable trip to Restfield Cemetery. As she approached Spike's increasingly familiar crypt, she began to nervously anticipate her future. And become increasingly aroused. She couldn't forget that bit.

*Maybe this is just one of those stories where we talk things out and kiss, then fade to black. I really can't take another PWP this week. I'm still sore from Tuesday's "shagathon."*

As she opened the door, her hopes her instantly dispelled. Spike stood nearly naked in the center of the crypt. He exchanged a bemused glance with Buffy. *Apparently he had been otherwise occupied as well.* When he glanced down at her attire, however, his disgruntled expression curled into a smug grin. *Damn Cheshire Cat knows exactly where this was headed.*

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Spike asked, running his hand down his marble chest to frame his barely concealed crotch.

"I think you know exactly why I'm here," Buffy said as she started to unwillingly unzip the dress she was wearing, letting it drop to the floor, "I want you to ravish me."

*"Ravish me?" What the Hell? Could this get MORE out of character? What kind of a sleaze bag horndog do these people think I am? Seriously.* Buffy glanced down at her recently self-exposed body. *Of course I'm not wearing underwear.* She inwardly grimaced and Spike's grin grew even wider.

"Why, that will be a pleasure, pet." Spike drawled, walking towards her.

*****

Buffy found herself tied spread-eagle to Spike's four-poster bed. *Damn writer's too lazy to even come up with some sort of segue.*

Spike leaned over her with his eyes sparkling, as if he was just barely holding back laughter. *Oh, he is enjoying himself FAR too much.*

He began to tease her with barely-there caresses all over her body. When he replaced his hands with his tongue, Buffy began to pant. As he latched onto her nipple, she let out a breathless, "Please."

*****

Buffy awoke an hour later curled into Spike's hard, sleeping body. She rejoiced as she realized that she had control over her body once again. *At least it was only a one-shot. Maybe I can get a few more hours sleep in before class.* She let herself enjoy her new freedom and bedmate for several moments before letting out an exasperated sigh and climbing out of bed for the second time that night. *Time to face reality.*

Spike woke up with a growl at the loss of body warmth. Groggily he sat up, becoming fully awake at the site of a naked Buffy searching for her clothes on the floor.

"Leaving so soon, pet?"

"Yes, and don't call me pet." Buffy turned to see Spike wrap the sheets tighter around his waist, outlining his obvious erection.

"But we were having so much fun." *I can't deny that...Gah! Bad Buffy. Spike is in no way sexy...Oh, who am I kidding? He is the best lay I ever had. Not that I could tell him that. His ego would fill the whole room.*

"Yeah, fun, right. You tell anyone about this and I will stake you." Buffy found her dress *On top of the refrigerator?* and put it on.

Spike sighed. "Promises promises."

"What did you expect? It's not like I get off on this." Spike raised an eyebrow. "...voluntarily." Buffy continued.

"Yeah, well. Maybe I thought one day you'd want to do this of your own free will."

"In your dreams, Spike." Buffy said as she stormed out.

"Until next time." Spike muttered to her fleeing body as he prepared himself for another lonely night. Then he had a wicked thought and walked over to the laptop he stole earlier that week. As he logged in he began scheming up the challenge. *Hmm. Spuffy PWP. Must haves: NC-17 rating, handcuffs, cheerleader outfit. Can't have: angst. That sounds good* he thought as he began to type.





You must login (register) to review.