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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is one of the first stories I wrote. I'm currently re-editing it to see if I can make it a bit better. It's still very silly and I hope very fun. So please enjoy and review
After spending the night watching Spike cheat at kitten poker when he was supposed to be getting information about whatever baddie had decided to try his hand at killing her, probably through boredom if the never-ending hour at the Magic Shop was any indication, Buffy was fed up when she stumbled outside after her ‘fix me’ speech to Spike. She was frustrated and though she had accused Spike, she knew that she was the drunker half of the couple. The black van across the street stopped her in her tracks. She recognized it and was trying to place it as Spike came rushing up behind her.

“That van”

“You want to steal a van I’m with you luv, be have got the motorcycle”

“I’ve seen it before. At the construction site.”

Suddenly an ugly, red, winged demon appeared.

“Aaarg. You have discovered me, but do not try and defeat me for I have been testing you and I know your weaknesses… hahahaha”

With an unbalanced kick which sent her sprawling onto the ground, which would never happen normally, but with a bottle of whisky in her, you really couldn’t blame a girl for a bit of uncoordinated fighting could you? And what kind of demon sounded like a cartoon bad guy anyways? After Spike helped her up and the red demon disappeared in a white cloud of smoke, she was more confused than ever. It had been a little too easy, she recognized even in her inebriated state.

“He blew up did you see that?” Buffy exclaimed.

“Yeah, I saw. He’s gone.” Spike muttered in reply.

“I love it you know. Makes you feel all powerful you know. Strong. And sick,” Buffy stumbled toward the drain in the alley and let her insides make their way outside. As she retched, Spike moved up behind her and started rubbing her back in soothing circles.

“Had a bit too much fun, eh pet?” Spike asked softly when she appeared to be finished.

“Shut up Spike,” Buffy muttered weakly, running the denim sleeve of her jacket over her mouth. “Why’d you cheat at poker anyways? I thought you were good.”

Spike smiled at her unexpected praise, “yeah, but they all cheat. ‘S part of the fun. Seeing what you can get away with.” Buffy straightened herself, regretfully moving away from Spike’s soothing ministrations.

“What do you say we go back to my crypt and you can get yourself cleaned up before you head home? You may not want to make a grand entrance like that.” Spike pointed to the vomit which adorned her shirt and shoes.

“Not that it isn’t a fetching look mind you,” he added with a smirk.

“Eww, gross Spike! I guess it’s a good idea though,” Buffy admitted looking at herself. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she didn’t feel like going home yet. Aside from her detour to spill her stomach contents in the gutter and the non-fight with the winged red demon, she was actually enjoying her time with Spike.

“Alright let’s go Spike. Where’s that helmet you have for no apparent reason?” Buffy stalked over to where the black motorcycle sat in the alley.

“No reason? I have it for you, pet. Wouldn’t want that pretty little noggin bashed up would ya?” Spike stuck the keys into the ignition and the motorcycle responded in a low rumble.

“Whatever.” Buffy slipped on the helmet and climbed on behind Spike, resting her helmeted head on his shoulder. The nausea still hadn’t worn off and she figured the best way to keep from a repeat of her earlier state was to keep her head down and think about anything but food or feeling ill. She focused in on the scents filling the night air and couldn’t help but notice that the smell of Spike’s leather duster mixed in with tobacco and his own personal spice was incredibly soothing.

Spike decided it was best not to comment on the Slayer’s head on his shoulder as he rode through the dark and nearly empty streets of Sunnydale toward Restfield. He enjoyed the weight of her head and the steady heat that flowed into his body from where her back was pressed up against him. He could feel her heartbeat through his back and relished in being this close to her, if only on the back of his bike.

Spike stashed his bike at the caretakers place, next to the DeSoto, and they walked in companionable silence toward his crypt. Once inside Buffy removed her black boots and scrunched her nose at the remains of her dinner left on them.

“Gross! Where can I get cleaned up?” she looked down at her shirt and even though it was black she still felt grungy dressed in a vomit splattered shirt. “And, uh, can I borrow a shirt?”

Spike smiled at that, “Can’t wait to get into my clothes then pet?”

Buffy made a face and replied, “Yeah that’s it,” voice dripping in sarcasm. “Unless you prefer me stinky and dirty, I think I’d better borrow something.”

“I’d take you stinky and dirty any time Slayer,” Spike said, tongue rolled behind his teeth, before quickly dodging out of the way of a punch aimed at his nose.

“Oi! No punching! I’ll get you a soddin’ shirt and there’s a gardener’s tap out back if you want to rinse your shoes.” He jumped into the lower level contemplating what shirt to give her that would be the best to show off her tight little body. He sighed as he realized that she probably wouldn’t agree to anything but a t-shirt, but grabbed one of his red silk button-down shirts instead.

When he emerged from the lower level of his crypt, Spike tossed her the red shirt and walked over to the corner searching for another bottle of JD. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he saw Buffy eye him suspiciously, then shrug before turning around and changing into his shirt. Spike didn’t miss the brief glimpse of black lace which adorned her back before it was covered again in red silk. The colour suited her, her blond hair looked even more like sunshine and spun gold than usual against the deep blood red.

Spike shook himself out of his contemplations and grabbed the lost JD bottle and shot glasses before hopping onto the sarcophagus.

“Care to join me luv? The best remedy for illness,” he smirked holding up the bottle.

Buffy scrunched up her nose at the thought of how bad it tasted, but her nice buzz was wearing off she shook of her distaste and figured why not. She seated herself cross-legged opposite Spike and took the shot he held toward her.

“Blech!” Buffy voiced her distaste over the fiery liquid. “So, will you teach me how to play poker?”

“You wanna learn do ya?” Spike smiled at her adorable whiskey face before producing a pack of cards from one of his duster pockets. “Why should I teach you?”

“Why should you teach me?” Buffy asked confused. At Spike’s nod she searched her mind for a plausible reason. “Because.”

“Because? You’ve got to do better than that Slayer. Why do you want to learn all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. Just seems like fun. Besides, it’s the ‘in’ thing to do right now isn’t it? With all the celebrity poker thingies on TV.”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, guess it is. Right, not that that isn’t a grand reason Slayer, I’m sure that’s not why you have a certain inspiration to learn poker from a vamp who you accused of cheating at kitten poker, but I’ll teach ya. It’s not that hard.”

Spike started mixing the cards and Buffy found herself watching his hands as he mixed the deck. She had never noticed how beautiful his hands were before. He had relatively large hands for his height. Long white fingers with well kept nails with the exception of the chipped black polish. Buffy briefly reminisced about how those hands felt on her body, memories she rarely indulged in since Willow’s ‘my will be done’ spell. She was so wrapped up that she missed most of the rules.

“So that leaves a Royal Flush. Ace through ten, all one suit. That’s the winning hand you always dream of. Got it?” Spike nimbly dealt out five cards each and placed the deck beside his five before picking them up and arranging them. Buffy picked up her cards and stared at them not knowing what to do since she hadn’t been listening.

“So how many do you want?” Spike looked at her, taking in her wide-eyed and confused expression. “Were you even listening earlier?”

“Um, yeah.” Buffy responded flushing slightly. “Ok, so no I wasn’t. What do I do again?”

Spike sighed and laid his cards down face-up on the table. “Ok so we’ll do this open hand the first time, just pay attention this time,” he said with a sigh while surveying her cards.

“Now you want to keep these,” indicating the Ace and king of Spades, “but not these three.” He took the remaining three cards and put them in a pile in the centre.

“Now you get three new cards see?” He placed the next three face-up in front of her: ironically the queen, jack, and ten of Spades.

“Fuck, of course you’d get yourself a Royal Flush without so much as battin’ an eyelash.” He proceeded to exchange two of his own cards leaving him with two tens and three fours.

“Right so you’ve got a Royal Flush. That’s the last one I told you about yeah? It’s the Big Bad of the poker world, beats anythin’. And I’ve got a full house. So you win this round.” He popped the top off the bottle of JD and handed her a new shot which she took with her usual whiskey face and mutter of disdain.

“So I win!” Buffy smiled. After downing another shot of JD she said in a perky voice, “I don’t know why this is so hard, seems easy to me.”

“’S that so luv?” Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at her, “care to add some incentive then?”

Though she knew the look on his face could only lead to trouble, the alcohol had alleviated much of her inhibition and raised his eyebrow quirk with a Slayer smirk.

“Well since I always win any time we compete, I’m game. What do you propose?” She stared into the very blue eyes that were watching her intently.

Spike smiled broadly at her. “Well you’ve agreed so there’s no turnin’ back missy! I say we make it a game of strip poker.” Spike couldn’t help it if his smile was just a little bit evil as he watched her cheeks redden. After all, he was still the Big Bad.





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