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Buffy lay on her side, clutching the sheets, as Spike thrust in and out of her from behind, in long slow strokes. One of his hands rested on her hip, which he used to pull himself in and out. His mouth nuzzled her neck and shoulder.

She was amazed that he could be so gentle with her and still be so passionate. It made all that time she'd spent making him hurt her see absurd. This was so much better. Not that she didn't feel like a rough fuck later on. But right now this was perfect.

He shifted his hand from her hip to her stomach which altered their relative positions slightly. When he thrust back into her he the tip of his cock brushed her in just the right place.

"Oh god! Spike!" she cried out as her entire body began to tremble with pleasure.

"Found you're sweet spot did I?" he chuckled. She didn't have to be able to see him to know that he was smiling wickedly; she could hear it in his voice. His hand tightened around her stomach as he began to speed up, careful not to shift their positions again.

He hit her deep inside, faster and faster, harder and harder. Each thrust forced another scream from her lips. She felt like her whole body was trembling violently. It was almost too much. She was no longer in control of any of her body. All there was was that place deep inside her where only he had ever touched her.

Her vision blurred. She was so close, she had gone from clutching the sheets to digging her fingers into the mattress. She didn't think she could take anymore.

"That's it pet, come for me," he crooned in her ear.

Something in his voice re-awoke a little of her old stubbornness. He was speaking to her like he controlled her body. Like he could make it feel whatever he wanted. The fact that he usually could only made her feel stubborner.

Then some part of her mind idly noticed the red numbers on his alarm clock flash 11:59. One more minute she thought, I'll hold on one more minute. Right at the stroke of midnight. I can hold on till then. No giving in till then.

She bit her lip in a vain attempt to regain control of her body. Finally the clock flashed 12:00. She was ready to give in when he next thrust inside her. But he never did.

Suddenly he wasn't touching her anywhere any more. Her body ached from the lack of his touch. A chill ran down her spine. This had happened before.

Her dream.

"Spike?" she asked worried. He wasn't on the bed anymore. She sat up to look for him, and he was calmly walking across the room to where his duster was hanging by the door. He didn't look at her, didn't seem to know that she was even there.

He grabbed something out of the pocket of his duster, and then he walked out the door. Completely naked.

Something was defiantly wrong. Panicked, Buffy looked around the room to find her skirt and blouse. She pulled the skirt on, then as soon as her arms were through the sleeves of her blouse, she ran out the door, buttoning it up as she went.

She easily caught up to him in the parking lot of the building. He didn't seem to be in any hurry.

"Spike? Spike what's going on." He still didn't seem to know she was there. "Spike, please tell me what's going on." She put her hand on his arm, hoping to gain his attention.

It worked. He looked at her hand. Then he grabbed her by both arms, lifted her and threw her across the parking lot. She crashed right through the windshield of a truck and landed in the cab setting off the car alarm.

But the time she managed to pull herself out of the truck there was no sign of Spike.

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

"More egg nog Fredikins?" asked Lorne, who had appointed himself bar tender for the night.

"No, I'm fine Lorne thanks. Actually Ah could use a bit of water."

"For you, anything," the green demon in the, Santa Clause meets disco, suit said.

Angel smiled. It was good to see his friends all happy. They'd had Christmas dinner at Fred's the night before. The idea had been to get together on Christmas Eve as friends to allow them to spend time with their loved ones on Christmas Day.

Then they'd realized how silly that was. Of all his friends only Fred and Wesley had any family. But neither of their families were in town. Besides, when all was said and done, the old gang from Angel Investigations was a family. So Angel had suggested that they all come over to his place for Christmas.

All in all it had been a success. The evening had flown by. They all needed the break and they'd been able to be just friends without having to worry about fighting evil. It was working out to be a perfect evening.

Then the phone rang. Sighing, Angel went to pick it up.

"Angel," he answered.

"Sir, this is security down at the front desk."

"Yes, what is it?" he asked annoyed.

"Sir, the Slayer just came in badly injured. Should we get rid of her or allow her in? Sir?" but there was no one there to respond. At the word 'injured' Angel had dropped the phone and rushed out of the room.

His friends all noticed immediately. Without question they set down their drinks and hurried to join him at the elevator.

"Angel what is it? Not trouble I hope?" asked Wesley.

"It's Buffy, she's here. She's hurt."

"Buffy? As in the Slayer Buffy?" Fred asked.

"Well that can't be good." Lorne added.

The elevator quickly descended to the ground floor. Angel burst out of the door. He was immediately greeted by several smells. Buffy, her blood, her sweat, her sex, and worst of all, Spike. He didn't even realize that he'd shifted to his game face.

He crossed the lobby with his full speed, leaving his friends behind to catch up. He saw Buffy, she was leaning against the front desk. She was barefoot, and her shirt and skirt had been sliced in several places in the back. It was from these same places that he could smell her blood.

Before she could say anything he had grabbed her arms as if to shake her. "Spike? Where is he?" he demanded.

"First of all, Ow," she said, sounding more annoyed than in pain. He released her.

"Angel?" Fred asked. The others had caught up to him.

"We should get her up to medical," Wesley said.

"Shouldn't we find out what did this to the Slayer? And if it's about to come knocking on our door?" Gunn asked.

"It was Spike," growled Angel as they began to move the wounded Slayer to the elevator.

"What? No," said Buffy, "Well, okay yeah, technically, yes. But it wasn't really him. Spike's a zombie."

"Is that even possible?" Fred asked. They were in the elevator heading up to medical.

"Okay, so maybe not a ZOMBIE, zombie. But he was zombie like. Something's wrong with him."

"Nothing a stake through the heart won't fix."

"ANGEL. It's not his fault, it's a woman. I think. Maybe. I don't know. But he's defiantly not himself," Buffy said.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out, herding Buffy toward medical.

"It could be done maybe. If you distilled the mystical component of a zombie and mixed it with a vampire's blood," Fred began to ramble. They all stopped to look at her. "But I doubt Spike's an actual zombie. And why would you want a vampire zombie anyway?"

"Perhaps Buffy better start from the beginning." Wesley interjected.

"Okay, so I, um, went to see Spike. And things where going along just fine, then all of a sudden he gets up and leaves."

"Maybe he had someplace to be. By the way, I'm Charles Gunn," he offered her his hand.

"Buffy Summers. Nice to meat you," she looked around at the others that she didn't know.

"I'm Lorne sweetie, and our little rambler here is Fred."

"Nice t' meet you," she said, as she began bandaging the tiny cuts on Buffy's back.

"Likewise. So back to Spike. I'm thinking he didn't just suddenly realize he was late for an appointment and go rushing off without his clothes." Buffy's eyes went wide, realizing what she'd just admitted to, and she began to blush.

"He took off his cloths before he left?" they all looked at Fred, "Oh, never mind," she said, blushing.

Buffy cleared her throat to regain her composure. "So anyway, I went after him, but he didn't even seem to know I was there. So I touched him, really gently, just put my hand on his arm, and he stopped and through me across the parking lot. By the time I'd gotten back to my feet he was gone."

"Well, that does seem odd. I'll contact the psychics see if they can track him. Although if he's under some sort of mind control that could be difficult." Wesley said as he started to leave.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Who says anything's wrong with Spike. He's probably just went out for a drink," Angel said.

"Naked?" Fed asked.

"I have to say Angel, man, this doesn't sound like normal behavior for Spike." He paused thoughtfully and looked at Buffy, "When you take into account the hottie, doesn't sound normal for any man, period," Gunn said.

"Spike's not normal," but Angel didn't even sound convincing to himself.

"Which is why we have to find him. Personally the idea of our knight in shinning leather being under the control of who-knows-what gives me the hebbie-gebbies." Lorne said.

"Which is precisely why we should find him right away. We can also check with the police, a man walking around naked is sure to attract at least some attention." Wesley added.

"Hey wait. I think he took the snake. I didn't see it after he left." Buff said.

"Now there's a snake?" Gunn asked.

"Not a snake. Damn it, what did Dawn call it. It was this red sports car, it was. . . "

"The Viper. Spike's driving my Viper naked." He loved that car. Now there was no way he could ever drive it again unless he had the whole thing reupholstered.

"Viper, yeah that was it."

"Well, that gives a good starting place then. Wolfram & Hart have an excellent anti-theft tracking system for all company vehicles." Wesley said, "We should be able to find him in no time."





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