Part One: Smells Like Fun

Buffy was being baked alive.

...At least it felt that way.

On what happened to be the hottest night in Sunnydale's history, a rolling black-out was in effect. Which roughly translated to No a/c, no electric fan, no relief.

Buffy thought it was fitting luck for a town built over a Hellmouth.

Her throat constricting in the thick, ovenish air, she languidly pictured the next day's headline: "Slayer, Victorious Over Evil Hell-God, Dies In Sweltering Heat."

Flipping over onto her back, she closed her eyes and wished for sleep.

"Buffy?" A male voice.

Eyes fluttered open. "Riley?"

"No, it's me, love." A face materialized from the shadows. Spike.

That's right, she remembered. He was staying over again tonight, helping Dawn recover from The Ordeal while big sis got some much-needed rest.

She was grateful. But now he was in her room, and that was never good.

He approached the bed.

Now was a good time to tell him to leave, but she found herself unable to form words.

"Buffy," he said softly. "Dawn's asleep. Just wanted to check that you're alright." He reached down to caress her shoulder.

"Cold!" Her hand captured his, guiding it to her face--his vampiric chill a welcome relief from the stifling heat.

"Apparently...not," Spike surmised in answer to his query. After all, Buffy was nuzzling against her once mortal enemy. He chuckled. "The heat's makin' you delirious, pet."

Mindlessly, she led his hand down her neck, under the thin, sweat-soaked cotton sheet and along her chest, over her belly and across her thighs. "Not that I...mind," he added, suddenly short of breath.

"Please," Buffy whimpered. It was so hot where he wasn't. So hot.

Mercifully, Spike knew what she needed. "Don't worry baby, daddy's got your cure."

He began to undress.

Buffy's logic screamed that this was not okay, but all too soon he was naked. Logic was suddenly at a loss for words.

Relief was immediate as his cool body covered hers. More childish urgings escaped from her lips unchecked: "Mmmm....so cold! So mmmm...Spike, don't go away, 'kay?"

"I won't ever leave you, baby," Spike reassured her. "I'll stay here forever if I have to." His hands slid over her body, across her burning limbs. "My hot little fireball."

My living ice pack, she thought dizzily. She wrapped her arms around him and tangled her fingers in his hair. "Mmmm..."

Spike growled low in his throat, directly into Buffy's ear. White-hot shivers shot down her body, lingering at her sex. Wait... Some far away voice told her this was not a good reaction.

Softly, he began to kiss her--first her neck, then her cheek, her forehead, her neck again, her chin.

Buffy gave in to the sensations. When she opened her eyes, they were level with his.

"Spike." The urgency in her voice surprised them both.

And suddenly, their mouths were fused in the hottest, iciest kiss she'd ever tasted. I was a kid with Angel, her mind pictures told her. I'm a woman now.

Aching with longing, she yanked away the sheet that separated them. "Kiss me all over."

He gazed at her body for a beat, and quickly obliged. Kissing the swell of her breasts first, he teased a hardening nipple until she squealed, licked down her belly, and stopped at her thighs. Kneeling on the floor, Spike waited, unsure of how far he was allowed to go.

Buffy hooked her leg over his shoulder and pulled him slightly forward. There was no mistaking the invitation. Clearly, the cooling action wasn't all she needed from Spike.

Spike hesitated for a moment, then began to tickle her inner thighs with his soft icy lips, moving slowly closer to her swollen center.

She groaned, attempting to grab his head and force his tongue on her clit.

"Ah ah ah..." he warned, continuing his maddening teasing.

The bastard's waiting for me to beg for it! She thought with a brief return of her trademark indignance. Who the hell does he think he...

"Spike! Please!" She bucked forward. She could see her own slick wetness glistening in the moonlight. Can't he see that I'm dying?

She saw his face break into a wide, self-satisfied smile.

Bastard.

Before she had to beg again, he'd dipped his head and was feasting on her hungrily. That's more like ...yes...

She felt his fangs elongate. Spike jerked his head up, trying to reel the monster back in. Buffy snorted in amusement.

"Sorry, love," he said, looking slightly shamed.

She shrugged and pushed his head back down.

"Knew I loved you for a reason," he said before he continued, careful not to bite.

Soon, she was holding his head between her thighs vice-style, feeling a powerful orgasm coming on. She stopped him and tugged him upwards.

As he mounted her, Buffy pulled him close for a kiss, tasting her lemony juices on his lips. His human face was back. She consciously noted for the first time how much she liked it.

As they locked eyes, something strange; something other than lust came over her. But before she could figure out what it was, Spike thrust into her, burying his cock to the hilt. Buffy cried out in surprise.

Looks of shock and pleasure dueled on his face. "So hot..."

"Cold," she whispered with a smile.

"So... bloody... tight ..."

She breathlessly repeated one word — "Yes" — as they moved in rhythm, each thrust harder and faster than the one before it.

She felt a sting on her lip and tasted blood: he'd started to vamp out again. "Slayer, oh Hell," Spike bellowed. "Bloody...Hell!" His eyes tinged yellow. Human snarls were replaced by a pantheric growl.

Buffy gasped for air as she watched him change. Losing the last bastion of control, she bared her neck and yanked him down. "Just stop when I tell you," she managed to sputter.

He bit down into her soft, buttery flesh and drank.

In her mind, door after door after door swung open, corridors and doors into space, into nothingness, into oblivion.

Overcome by intense, undulating torrents of release, she wailed his name.

* * * *

Buffy awoke, naked and sweating, her fingernails digging into her neck, sheets bunched between her thighs and her own come pooling beneath her.

The first thing she noticed was the chill in the room--of course, the power had gone back on, and the central air had kicked in. And that's why she'd--

She sat up, the dream before her in all its Technicolor detail. A sex dream.

A dream of sex.

Starring her... and Spike.

She felt her inner muscles clench and release.

"Oh," she said shakily, riding out the last exquisite wave of her very first multiple orgasm.

Suddenly, the door in her room flew open. Spike, fully dressed, stood there, panting. "What's wrong?"

She stared at him, aghast, paralyzed with... embarrassment? Or was it lust? Her voice cracked a hoarse "Huh?"

He looked around the room, bewildered. "You yelled my name not two seconds ago. You sounded panicked. I was downstairs, and..." He focused on her moonlit form and his body language loosened. "You're naked."

She looked down at her bare breasts and jerked the sheet up. Her mind tried to work frantically. "I had a dream."

He moved towards her, sensing something...interesting. "What kind of dream, exactly?"

"No kind!" She cried. "No kind of dream. A bad, bad--"

He came closer.

"Just--don't..." She held up her hand, Supremes-style. "Go!"

His nostrils flared. There was a fascinating blend of fluids on that hand. "Don't go? ...Or go?"

Buffy took a deep breath, gathering her wits and her resolve. "Go. Please go."

The room was heavy with her arousal. The last thing he wanted to do was leave. "You sure?"

"Spike!" Her voice cracked again.

He chuckled softly. "Alright, Slayer. But you better tell me all about this dream in the morning."

Lifting an eyebrow, he added, "It smells like fun."

She gasped as his lascivious meaning hit her.

She grabbed the closest stuffed animal and chucked it at his retreating form. "Damn vampire!"

He laughed heartily out the door.

Buffy blinked, surprised at herself. After all, Spike knew exactly what kind of dream she'd had and had the nerve to say so. She should have been mortified. Or at least angry. But all she really felt was a strange, womanly satisfaction.

Maybe it was the multiple orgasm.

Buffy smiled. A new headline flashed in her mind: "Slayer, Victorious Over Evil Hell-God, Lets Soulless Vampire Fuck Her to Death."

With feline contentment, she curled up and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part Two: Sultry

"Sleep well, Slayer?"

She'd managed to avoid him all day. Now, surrounded by her friends in the magic shop, Buffy had nowhere to run. She should have known that as soon as Spike sauntered in he'd taunt her with an infuriating grin and a question so seemingly benign.

She glared at the vampire, ground out a "Fine," and dared him with her eyes.

"Good, 'cause I know I did."

"I couldn't sleep at all last night," said Anya. "It was uncomfortably hot."

"Vampires don't sleep at night," Tara explained. "A-and come to think of it, they don't even get hot. Right, Spike?"

Buffy's face burned as she remembered the dream.

"Oh, we get hot." His eyes wouldn't leave the blushing slayer.

"Oh. I thought--"

"Had a great dream," Spike declared with a big smirk, sitting back and resting his heels on the table. "How 'bout you, Buffy? Have any good dreams lately?"

"No, just a great, big nightmare."

Giles took the pause as an opportunity. "Now that we've clarified whether Buffy had a pleasant repose, could we please move on?"

* * * *

"God! Would you stop looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Spike laughed as he fielded a swift left hook.

"Like a big--" *right jab* "peroxided--" *roundhouse kick* "pervert!"

He caught her foot in mid-air. "Pervert? I'm not the one who had the wet dream about me." With a nasty smile, he used her shock to throw her off balance.

She shot back up, kicking him in earnest. He hit the mat with a smack. Her voice lowered to a venomous whisper. "Don't you ever say that out loud again."

"What?" Spike asked, then bellowed from his place on the floor, "That you had a hot, wet--"

Buffy jumped on him and tried to cover his mouth.

"--somehow bloody--" He attempted to pull the choker off her neck.

Now she had to hold his hands down--there was no way she was going to let him see the nail-inflicted crescents she was hiding.

"--obviously mind-blowing--" She tried his mouth again. He licked her hand. "--dream about snogging me into the bl--"

"That's it!" she popped him in the nose.

"Ow!"

She hissed, "Shut up before I really kill you."

"It's alright to want me, pet. Why are you resisting?"

"I don't want you!" She jumped off of him and walked away. "That's not what it meant. It was a dream. It was symbolic."

He propped himself up. "And I symbolized...what? A terrific lay?"

"No... an arrogant vampire who can't keep his mouth shut." She folded her arms. "Oh, wait, that's literal."

"All right, tell me." He said, standing, trying a more gentle approach. "What's it mean then?"

She turned away from him again. "I haven't figured that out yet. Can we not have this conversation?"

"Why don't you give me a blow--" She whipped around to face him. "--by blow," he finished, arms up in defense. "Tell me what happened in the dream. I'll tell you if it's symbolic or not."

"Oh goodie, more fuel for the make-Buffy-miserable fire!"

"I'm not trying to make you--"

"Look, don't think you're special, okay? I was hot," she found herself saying, regretting it instantly. "And you happened to be the only vampire in the house."

He didn't get it immediately. "What?"

She grabbed his hand and brought it to her face. "Me hot." Then to his chest. "You cold. End of story."

Spike marveled at the beauty of it. So simple, yet so rife with implication. "You--"

"End of story, Spike."

His eyes lowered and lingered at her neck. "And the blood?"

Buffy exhaled heavily. He obviously wouldn't leave it alone until he heard the truth. In a barely audible voice, she answered, "At the end, I let you drink from me."

Spike was speechless. She couldn't have uttered a more perfect sentence.

"I was delirious from the heat." Realizing that her hand was still resting on his chest, she quickly pulled away. "And I still must be, 'cause I'm standing here telling you this."

"Er, Buffy?" Giles' voice at the door.

"Nothing!" Buffy sputtered defensively, jumping halfway across the room.

Giles looked confused. "Er, yes. Well, unfortunately, there is something."

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid there may be some significance to this heat wave after all."

"I shoulda known," Buffy sighed in resignation, following Giles out of the training room. "No rest for the wicked."

Spike just stood there, dumbstruck.

Slowly, a smile spread across his features.

"You said it, sweet bit."

* * * *

"It appears that the heat wave is restricted solely to Sunnydale," Giles announced, newspaper in hand. "What's more, there's an unwarranted amount of humidity, unrelated to smog."

"And that means...?" Buffy asked.

"Demons," Anya said nonchalantly, tallying up the day's sales.

"Heat wave demons?" Buffy pondered.

"Do they look anything like Gladys Knight and the Pips?" Xander asked. His joke was greeted by blank stares. "You know," he said, and half-sang, "'Heat wave...burnin' in my...?'" He trailed off.

Spike sauntered into the room and perched on the ladder, his eyes fixed squarely on his Slayer.

"I believe you're thinking of Martha and the Vandellas, Xander, and, no." Giles cleared his throat. "But there are several varieties of demons with the power to change the weather; some are quite harmless. Some are...not. And until they present themselves as any sort of threat, we should all just keep an eye out."

"Tara and I can do a demonic activity spell," Willow offered, giving her girlfriend's hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Is that the one where you teach 'em to fingerpaint?" Xander asked, bouncing right back. "'Cause gosh darnit, there just aren't enough fingerpainting demons in the world."

"Activity as in evil energy," Willow explained with a smile. "Anyway, it might tell us what kind of heatwavey demons we're dealin' with."

"Yes, that'll be quite helpful. And suffice it to say, Buffy--"

"Got it. Off to patrol." She got up to gather her things. "Dawn? Will you be okay here for a while?"

"Sure, I'll hang with the gang. Do some researchy stuff."

"Good." Buffy noticed a certain vampire following her. "Spike, what are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm going with you."

Buffy thought to argue, then saw everyone watching. She sighed. "Come on."

As soon as he closed the jingling door behind them, she turned to face him.

"Look. I think you should just go home."

"Why?"

"I just... do."

"Just do? Good one. That'll keep me away."

She sighed in exasperation. "I can't just go slaying with you after we've..." her voice lowered to a whisper, "talked about what we talked about."

He smiled, charmed by her bashfulness, but unable to resist the alternative. "You mean you don't trust yourself to be alone with me. Afraid you'll jump my hide and make me drink from you."

"No," she said through gritted teeth, "I'm more afraid you'll say something like that again and I'll have to kill you."

"I'm--"

"An ass?"

"Buffy," he laughed. "I'm sorry. Won't mention it again, I promise."

"Why don't we just split up. See what we can find out."

"I said I--"

"Spike! We'll get more accomplished that way." She looked at him pleadingly. "Please?"

He gave in with a sigh and plucked the Marlboro Menthol from his ear. "Alright then. Spose I'll go check with Willy, see what's doing in the demon arena."

"Great. Thanks."

"Sure thing, kitten." As he inhaled the minty smoke, he watched her hips switch away from him. Fighting the urge to follow her into the woods, Spike took off towards the seedy side of town.

* * * *

It was getting late and the heat was getting to Buffy.

So far, it looked like the demons had no interest in cemeteries, woods or parking lots. Only two vamps had surfaced, with no information to share and even less fighting skill.

She wondered whether Spike had discovered anything yet. With that idle thought came other more interesting Spike-related musings...Bad, bad thoughts, Buffy, she scolded herself. Work to do. Monsters to slay.

She rounded the corner to the Sunnydale elementary school playground, casting a glance over the perimeter.

Something seemed... off.

Suddenly, the air around her was tangibly thicker and harder to see through. She felt close to suffocating, until for some inexplicable reason she felt...fully aroused.

"Woah," she reeled as slippery fluid saturated her underwear.

Her body tingled with lust. Her clothing felt too tight, too restrictive. She was close to peeling it all off. What the hell is going on?

She sat down on the nearest swing to regain her composure.

There's a word for this kind of heat, she thought. Sultry.

And suddenly, the ugliest demon she'd ever seen appeared. It towered at over seven feet tall and was covered in horns and slimy pustules.

"And you must be one of the Pips," she said, standing, trying to push away the lusty feelings that definitely shouldn't be felt around a revolting hellspawn. "Or Martha or whatever."

She couldn't tell, but it seemed to smile. It also spoke, but not a language or even a sound pattern that she could understand. The only way she could describe it was...gurgly.

"Well, now that we've been introduced--" she went for him. A punch to the stomach that...made no impression at all. He still stood there.

And she could tell it was a he, because suddenly something was growing. Something from his midsection. A huge, grotesque, horn-shaped phallus that was aiming right at her.

"I see," she said, backing up, "You're not just a horny demon...you're a horny demon."

She marveled at her still-aroused state. Am I completely sick? she asked herself. Then it hit her. The fog. The heat. It was getting her...ready. For him. For it. Eww!!!

"What is it about me?" she asked. "Do I have 'Demon Whore' stamped on my forehead?"

Buffy turned to run, but the demon caught up with her and slapped her down. He was strong. And the lust-heat was weakening her.

He was coming ever closer with that godawful thing pointing at her. She didn't know if she could fend him off because her body was reacting in all the wrong ways.

"Need help, or should I leave you two alone?"

Buffy had never been so happy to hear that voice. "Spike!"

The demon turned to eyeball Spike.

"That's no way to treat a lady," Spike gruffed, and descended a razor-sharp axe across the thing's phallus, slicing it clear off.

The demon gurgled and fell to the ground, its midsection spewing green goop.

Buffy rolled away to avoid the spray. "Ugh!"

Spike took her hand and pulled until she was pressed snugly against him.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly. "And also...gross choice of dismemberment."

He smiled. "That's the only way to kill it."

"Oh. You know what he is?" She was fidgeting, her hands dancing on his chest.

"No, but I heard about a demon girl got attacked--raped--by one of those buggers. Nearly tore her apart. Her boyfriend tried chopping off its head, but it just kept goin'. Only way was..." he motioned a slice with his free hand, the one that wasn't snaked around Buffy's waist.

"Yuck. All around yuck." She continued to shift from one leg to the other, her hands getting more intimate.

"You--you alright?" He asked, noticing the glazed look in her eye and the finger brushing over his nipple.

"Mmhmm...Just...weird, I guess. And..."

"And?"

"Well, there's this thing...I think the heat is um, getting to me."

"Getting to you...how?" He also noticed her pelvis gyrating against his.

"The heat--has some kind of aphrodisiac in it, I think." She was gazing at his mouth.

"I see..." No wonder he could smell her from a mile away this time.

She touched a finger to his bottom lip.

Spike made up his mind. "Okay, Slayer, we're gonna get you home," he said, removing her hand.

"What? Home? Why?"

"Not gonna take advantage of you like this, though believe me, I'd love to."

"Advantage? What advantage? I'm the Slayer--"

"Yeah, you are. And tomorrow morning you'll shove a pointy piece of wood into my chest like a Slayer's sposed to. So, come on. Let's get you to bed."

"To bed?" She smiled coquettishly.

"To sleep," he stressed.

"I don't wanna go to sleep," she whimpered. "I'm all hot and...wet. You wanna feel?" She grabbed his hand.

Spike inhaled sharply. "Yes..." Then he pulled away. "But I'm not going to."

She stomped her foot like an angry child. "When did you suddenly grow a conscience?"

"When I fell in love with you," he answered without thinking twice.

Her anger melted. She had nothing to say.

"Come on, Slayer," he said, scooping her into his arms. "Let's get you home."

She surrendered to him and nuzzled into his chest.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"I like it when you're nice."

"Yeah," he said, trying not to focus on the yielding, aromatic body in his arms. "I know."

Spike let out a feral growl. Nice, she said.

Bloody conscience.

Part Three: Perfect Gentleman

"Bloody, buggery conscience!" Spike kicked the tub, then hopped around from the pain.

He sighed and looked in the mirror, seeing the framed painting that hung behind him. Not supposed to have one of those.

"There's a writhing, hot little Slayer in the next room, and what are you doin', mate?" he asked himself, bracing his hands on the sink. "Wankin' off in the bloody bathroom."

He fastened his belt buckle and walked out into the hallway. "Dawn! Christ, you scared me."

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" She smiled, hand on hip.

"Used to be." He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "When did you get in?"

"Just now. Giles dropped me off. I heard you yelling, so I figured you guys were here."

You guys. The phrase made him smile. "We are."

"Buffy's in her room?" she asked.

"Yeah." She started in that direction. "But, uh--wouldn't go in there."

"Why?"

"We had a run-in with a nasty demon. He got her with some sort of...mist. Makin' her act all daft. Might be contagious; don't want you to get anything."

"Is she okay?"

"Spike? Where are you?" They heard from the bedroom. "I need you!"

"Coming, Buffy." Spike shifted uncomfortably. "Looks like she needs something."

"Uh huh," Dawn said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Go on and turn on the telly, I'll be down in a bit."

"Okay."

He watched her go down the stairs.

Spike took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door.

Buffy was still naked, sprawled across her comforter. "Spike!"

"Buffy," he sighed, locking the door behind him.

"C'mere."

"No."

"C'mon."

"No, Slayer. I won't." He flipped the desk chair around and sat down.

"'Slayer,'" she repeated with disdain. "You don't call me that anymore unlessssss...you're mad at me. Are you mad at me?"

"Far from it."

"Don't you love me?"

"Yes."

"So, what's the problem?" She grabbed a pillow and held it between her legs, turning on the bed. Exposing that marvelous peach of an ass. "Mmmm..."

He inhaled sharply as he watched her hump the pillow. "Where do I begin."

She shot up and faced him. "Spike, I've gotta come. I'm serious. You have to help me."

He smiled. Maybe he could just... Another sigh. Gotta be strong. "Help yourself."

She pouted. "If you're not gonna help me--" she started to get up and move towards the window.

"Slayer!" He got up and threw her back on the bed. "Do I have to tie you up?"

She smiled and moved like a cat, her ass in the air. "Betchya wanna."

God, he loved this girl. He shook his head. "That's not the point."

She rolled onto her back and held her hands between her legs. "Spike, help me."

His hard-on was raging yet again, thanks to the new spread-eagle view he was being treated to. He swallowed and asked softly, "Do you have anything?"

"Anything?"

"You know...a vibrator...something like that?"

"Ew!"

"Not ew...a lot of women use 'em. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She sighed petulantly. "Under the bed."

He smiled and ducked under the bed.

"I never use it though."

"Uh huh." He found a shoe box.

"Serious! Cordelia made me buy it a long time ago."

There it was, a shiny silver bullet of a thing. He twisted the bottom column. Fresh batteries. Never use it, huh? "Here." He pulled back the covers. "Get under. Have fun. I'll be over here."

"You're not gonna do it for me?"

"No."

"I really hate you." She got under the covers.

"I know."

"Well...if you want me to do this you'll have to leave me alone."

"Don't get dainty on me now, Slayer. Can't chance you escaping and taking this out on some poor unsuspecting. I'm staying 'til you're done."

He heard a low buzz. His dick strained against his jeans and he silently cursed the demon that was doing this to them.

"Say something."

He looked up. "What?"

"Talk to me."

He was at a loss. She wanted him to talk dirty? Was that the same as taking advantage of her? Damn these gray areas... "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me about...the first time you saw me."

His breath caught. She-devil, you are. "Alright," he said cautiously, then started, "First time I saw you...I wanted to kill you."

"Go on."

But not before fucking you into oblivion, he added to himself. "My first time at the Bronze. I went there looking for you. They'd given me a description--blonde, hot, 'bout 17. There were a lot of girls in there that fit the bill, but only one that moved like a Slayer."

"Mm hmmh..."

"Found you dancing with your little friends--you were breathtaking. So alive, like a fiery ray of-- "

He heard the thing shut off. "Cut the poetry, Spike."

Bossy bitch. "Just to make sure it was you, I sent a minion out for something to eat," he remembered, as he heard the buzz come back. "I got up close to you and asked someone for a phone, there was some big guy outside tryin' to bite someone. You went runnin', I knew it was you."

She was moving under the covers. How he wished he could be under there, truly invited.

He continued. "I followed you out there. Watched from the shadows to get an idea of how you fought. Quick on your feet and a wit to match--I was impressed." He smiled. "Poor guy, thought he was gonna be the next big bad in town. You took him down in a heartbeat."

"Do you remember what happened next? I clapped, and you saw me for the first time. You were still hot from the fight, yeah, you were ready to take me on. You asked me who I was. I said something like, 'you'll find out on Saturday'. All balls and swagger. God, I miss the old me." He stopped to reflect fondly, then went on. "You said, what happens then? I said, 'I kill--"

"Unhhhhaaah!"

Spike smiled, one eyebrow arching. "...you.'"

"Okay. Okay," he heard her say, gasping under the comforter. "Okay. Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Get out."

That was the Buffy he knew. "Got it." He stood up and exited, heading straight for the bathroom.

* * * *

"What was up with you last night?" Dawn asked.

Good question, Buffy thought. She didn't quite know how to answer her sister.

Earlier that morning Buffy had padded downstairs only to be faced with a shirtless Spike asleep on the living room couch. Careful not to rouse him, she'd tiptoed past, then hid when she heard a snort. When she'd ventured a peep again, he was luckily still unconscious--except that his thumb was hooked into his belt buckle, and his fingers were cupping the bulge in his pants.

"Even when you're asleep you know I'm around," she'd murmured with a half-smile.

Buffy cracked an egg into the pan. "What do you mean?"

"Spike wouldn't let me in to see you. Said you got hit by some demon smog or something and that you might be contagious."

"Oh...that."

"You were like, moaning for him," Dawn said, moving into histrionics, "All, 'Spike, I need you!'"

"Moaning? No. I was just...under some kind of mojo thing."

"Well, it was weird. For a second I thought something was going on between you two."

Buffy laughed, a little too loud. "That's funny."

"I know. That'd never happen." Dawn looked at her sister with an unspoken question mark.

"You rented 'Bring It On' again?" Buffy exclaimed, picking up the Blockbuster box on the counter.

"No, we just haven't returned it yet. Spike likes it too much."

"Then Spike is paying the extra fee." She slung the box back to its place. Buffy congratulated herself for a successful subject change.

"I was surprised. Last night he actually fell asleep before his favorite part."

"His favorite part?" Buffy asked, trying to sound disinterested as she pushed the eggs around with a spatula.

"You know, when that brunette chick puts on the cheerleading outfit."

"The brunette? She's a total slag!"

"He told me he has a thing for tough girls in frilly outfits."

Buffy chuckled. "No argument there."

"I'll return it later today."

"Okay, but Dawn? I don't want you going out there alone."

Dawn sighed in frustration. "Why? I'm not a kid, and I'm not even a key anymore!"

"Those demons last night were really nasty," Buffy said, turning off the eggs and sitting down to face her sister. "I think they're looking for mates, and if they think I've got potential...I just want to make sure they stay away from you."

"But you can kick their asses, right?"

"Not really." Buffy rose to slide the eggs onto plates. "That smog thing Spike told you about? It made me...pretty much helpless."

"Helpless? You? How?" She took a plate.

Buffy resolved that her sister could take the truth. "It was some kind of aphrodisiac."

"Is that why you sounded all hornbaggy last night?"

"Dawn! Hornbaggy?"

"Well, you did."

Buffy sighed. "Yes, that would be why."

"Huh," Dawn said as she buttered her toast.

"What?" her sister asked.

"You were like that, and Spike didn't try anything?"

"No!" Buffy exclaimed, looking off into the living room's direction. "Actually... he was a perfect gentleman."

Part Four: Ambrosia

"What I don't understand is why they'd go after Buffy."

"Because, Giles, demons dig me. It's this whole weird Slayer thing."

Spike scoffed, feeling somehow implicated.

"Mating demons generally go after their own kind." Giles replaced his glasses.

"Yeah," Spike said defiantly to Buffy, who was turning the pages of a big, dusty book, much like the one he had. They hadn't made eye contact all day. "Generally."

"Unless," Giles said, with 'onto something' face. "Unless there's not enough of their kind here."

"What, and I resemble their kind?" Buffy said. "I don't think so."

Dawn, head resting on a stack of books, snorted loudly in her sleep.

Giles continued, "Well, so far we know they've chosen you and two other demon females. No one else has been harmed that we know of."

"Maybe it's because you're strong," Anya told her. "They think you can take it."

"Oh, I don't think anyone could have taken--" Buffy stopped herself, everyone waiting. "It."

"Pretty gross, huh?" Willow asked.

"Ugh. It was... something I'd never like to describe," she said, glad for once that her little sister could sleep through anything.

Spike volunteered, "Right ugly bastard."

"Perhaps their women have been dying. And perhaps they're attracted to the hellmouth because of the large selection of demon women."

"Hello? Not a demon!" Buffy raised her hand.

"Of course not, Buffy. I only meant that they must be attracted to this spot for a reason."

Buffy closed the book, a big puff of dust rising. "None of these check out, Will."

"Not here either." Spike said.

"Well, at least we've got a heads up on all the other demons in town," Willow said, referring to her spell with Tara earlier that day.

"Yes, well done, Willow," Giles said. "Now, Buffy, I'm curious about the connection to the heat. You say it follows them, like a kind of mist?"

"Yeah. Kinda," was all Buffy could bring herself to say.

"And you were rendered somehow helpless by this mist? The heat was too strong for you?"

"Uh-huh," she answered.

"I'll say," Spike said with a roguish grin. He just couldn't help himself.

"I wonder what properties it could have in order to do that...?"

"Slayer Kryptonite?" Xander pondered.

Buffy sighed. "Spike, tell them."

"Which part, love?"

"About what properties it had," she ground out without looking at the insolent vampire.

"Oh. Uh, some kind of pheromone. You know, to get the girl, uh... prepared."

Buffy covered her eyes.

"Oh...uh." Giles reddened. "I see."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "The heat makes you... horny?"

Buffy groaned in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Xander, that's the exact thing no one needed spelled out," Giles said.

"A pheromone mist?" said Anya. "That sounds like a Zuxugna demon to me. But they're from the Xugnoic dimension. That's at least 700 gateways from here."

"Shug-no-wick? Is that the one without shrimp?" Tara asked.

"No. It's the one without pleasant-smelling air."

"Of course!" Everyone turned to Giles. "These... Zooshugnas--?" He grabbed a pen to write with.

"Yes--but spelled with an X, not an SH," Anya said, looking over his shoulder.

"These Zuxugnas could have escaped from one of the portals that opened the instant before we defeated Glory," Giles announced.

"And somehow, only males escaped," offered Buffy.

"Which is why these...Meshuggenahs need women," Xander concluded. "I think I saw this movie!"

"'Attack of the 50 Foot Meshuggenah'?" Willow ventured.

"It's Zuxugna," Anya corrected. "And they don't have fifty feet, just two."

"Do they mate very often?" Giles asked the ex-demon.

"Actually, I think their mating season is once every hundred seventy years or so."

"Great, they're ugly and old." Buffy said.

"Then its not a wonder they're desperate, cast out of their own dimension," Giles surmised. "They're forced to mate with any female they feel can handle their...insemination."

"And that's why the rest of us are impervious to the heat," Willow chimed in. "Aside from it being, you know, hot."

"'Cept that even the demon girls can't take it," Spike said. "They're both in terrible shape."

"Well, Buffy, it seems you should stay out of its way."

"No, I shouldn't."

Giles frowned in question.

"I'm the perfect bait," she explained. "And they're easy to kill if you know how. If Spike comes with me, he can hang back if one attacks me, then get it while its...hot."

Spike was touched. She didn't hate him after all.

Anya happily supplied, "The only way to kill it is to chop off its--"

"Right," Giles said.

"Ouch," Xander said.

"Impossible when it's not mating season," she added.

Suddenly, Buffy felt a familiar twinge.

Spike's nostrils flared.

"It's close," they said in unison.

"How can you tell?" Willow asked.

Buffy gave her a look.

"Oh. You mean..." Willow got it.

"Wait, how did Spike know it was close?" Xander asked.

"Did, uh, did I say it was close? I meant--"

"Spike!" Buffy got up and hurried into the training room. He followed her obediently.

Anya whispered to Xander, "Vampire. You know." She discreetly pointed at her nose.

"Oh, now that's just creepy."

"Yeah," agreed Tara. "That really is."

Willow opted to keep her thoughts to herself.

* * * *

"Spike?" Buffy turned to face him for the first time since the previous night.

"Love?" He stood back to see if he was going to be chastised.

"What you did...last night," she began. "It was really..." She started over. "As humiliated as I am about everything I did, you were really...decent."

He smiled.

"The thing is... " Another wave hit her. "You're gonna have to help me again."

"I know, love," he said as she wobbled into his arms. "I got you."

"I just... don't want to do this to you. I know how you feel about me, and--"

"Not another word, pet."

The back door of the training room blasted open and a thick, hot fog filled the room. A Zuxugna advanced toward Buffy. Spike let go of her and plucked a labrys off the wall.

Buffy backed up and glanced at Spike. If he could just make me come right now I could kick its ass...

The demon gurgled as its phallus grew.

"Oi! Shugna daddy!" Spike called. He swiftly brought the labrys down. As he watched it drop to the ground, he mused, "Not very smart, are they?"

"Mm mm," Buffy answered, squeezing her legs together.

Oh, right. Here we go again. "Come on, Slayer." The fog dissipated, and the Scooby Gang were visible in the doorway.

"That was... ookie," Willow said, shoulders spasming.

"That was a Zuxugna," Anya confirmed.

"Well, it appears they are rather easy to kill," Giles said, stepping over the mess of dead demon. "Though not easy to look at," he added. "We're sure it's dead?"

"Yeah, mate. He'll dissolve in a minute or two." Spike was holding Buffy up. She had managed to worm her way inside his jacket, pressing herself against him intimately, a look of restrained ecstasy on her face.

Xander eyed them suspiciously. "Is that the Buffybot?"

"Xander!" said Buffy. Then she realized what she was doing. "Oh." She pulled away from Spike, and almost fell forward.

"Don't mind her. It's the mist. It'll...wear off. Slayer!" Spike peeled her off of Xander.

"You need to get her out of here," Anya said, nose wrinkling. "Far away from Xander."

"Mmm..." Buffy's arm was draped over Willow's shoulder, forehead touching her cheek. She nuzzled into her friend's neck.

Tara spoke up. "Um...I vote against the wild orgy?"

"Second that," Spike said, gathering the girl in his arms. "C'mon, Slayer. Gonna get you home now."

Giles spat at Spike, "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking the lady home."

"Like hell you are!" He removed his glasses in one swift motion.

"What's the alternative, mate? You watch her writhe around like a bitch in heat til it's over?"

Giles looked vaguely shamed but held his ground. "I hardly think you should be in charge of this."

"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Shouldn't we just tie her up and leave her alone for a while?"

"You just try it," Buffy challenged.

"There is no way you are taking her--"

"Giles!" Buffy shouted, grasping Spike's leather sleeve. "Spike is taking me home. He knows what to do."

* * * *

"Spike, you've gotta come over here. Just sit next to me? I promise I won't do anything bad."

"Only if you promise, pet."

As soon as he sat down on the bed, Buffy whipped off the comforter, revealing the silver vibrator inside of her. She went back to pumping it with one hand and massaging her clit with the other.

It was more than he could take. "Don't stop what you're doing. Be right back."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I know what you're gonna do in there. Why don't you do it here?"

"Buffy--"

"You're watching me do it. It's only fair."

He couldn't refuse a lady, could he? Masturbation play--that's innocent enough, right?

With a lustful gaze, he began to unbuckle his belt. When he freed himself, Buffy's eyes widened.

"S'wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing. Bigger than I thought."

He smiled proudly, and took hold of his thick cock. Out of habit, he spit on his hand for lubrication.

Buffy pulled out her vibrator, leaving a trail of wet sticky liquid. "Gimme your hand."

He obeyed. With the vibrator and her hand, she slathered her come all over his palm, smiling coquettishly all the while.

"I've got enough for both of us," she said.

He could have shot his load right then. But dammit, he was going to make this moment last.

When she smeared the last of it on his mouth, he caught her finger between his teeth and sucked it in. His eyes rolled up and his inner poet rejoiced.

"Ambrosia," he declared.

"Come up here," she said, smiling sweetly.

Spike knelt beside her on the bed and tentatively began to stroke.

As Buffy watched him intently, touching herself, he took on a more steady pace.

He couldn't hold it much longer. With jagged breath, he said, "Buff--Where--"

Understanding completely, Buffy flicked her fingers over her nipples and said, "Here."

"Gahh!" Spike shouted as he shot cold semen onto Buffy's nubile breasts.

Buffy rubbed it over herself, down her stomach, to her pussy and came, hard, squeezing her eyes shut.

Spike came down slowly, savoring the sensation.

Buffy opened her eyes as her breathing evened out. "Okay," she said with determination.

"Right," he said, getting up to buckle and close his jeans. "I'm gone."

"Wait," she said, grasping his arm. "Can you, um, maybe get me a towel and, and make sure Dawn's not in the hall?"

She wasn't asking him to leave? She wasn't too embarrassed to look at him?

"Sure thing, pet."

Part Five: For Spike

"You got this for me?"

"Yeah." Buffy shrugged, leaning against the porch railing. "Only 'cause I'm sick of fishing cigarette butts out of the potted plants."

Spike thumbed the porcelain ashtray that featured a high relief of a cartoonish devil girl. "I'm touched, Summers." He looked back up at her. I got to come all over you last night and you're gettin' ME presents?

"Don't be." Buffy shrugged again, averting her gaze.

He put the ashtray down and extinguished his cigarette, exhaling through his nose.

"Ready to fight evil?" Buffy casually flung an axe his way.

"As I'll ever be," he said as he caught it deftly and followed her down the porch steps.

* * * *

"Looks like a bust."

They'd traveled around Sunnydale twice, and evil had yet to rear its horny head.

"Well, at least I get a night off from being crazy demon slut," Buffy said.

"Thank God." Spike said. "Hate you like that."

She threw him a look. "Shyeah."

"Where to now, pet?"

"I'm thinkin' home," she said, wiping some sweat from her brow. "Possibly dinner. Definitely a cold shower."

He lifted a brow at her.

"Alone," she stressed. "And just because of the heat, Mister... Gutter-mind Man."

"I didn't say anything."

"But you thought it."

"I did. I admit it," he sighed, smiling. He spotted Blockbuster Video in the distance. "Up for a movie?"

"Sure. Anything but 'Bring It On'."

"What's wrong with 'Bring It On'?" He ground a cigarette under his boot. "Bloody brilliant picture."

"Sure, if you like skanky brunettes in cheerleading outfits."

"I'd hardly call her skanky. Just... misunderstood is all."

"Oh, quelle surprise," she said sarcastically. "Spike is thinking with his dick again!"

Spike stopped walking, gasped loudly and pointed at her. "You're jealous!"

Buffy scoffed. "Am not!"

"Are so!"

Buffy gaped, hands resting on her hips. "Can you possibly get over yourself for one millisecond?"

"Admit it, love. You're seething with jealousy 'cause Spike's got a yen for a bird on the telly."

"I am not jealous! I could never be jealous of...someone who calls girls 'birds' or TVs 'tellys'," she huffed. "And 'yen'? Who says that anymore?"

"So I can't fancy anyone but you, ay?" he accused. "Can't ever have you, but I can't want anyone else either."

"You are so far off base right now." Her fists clenched. "And completely out of line."

"Oh, am I now?" Spike scoffed. "You know what your problem is, Summers?"

"Please, enlighten me. I'd love--"

Suddenly, Spike fell to the ground, knocked unconscious.

"Spike!!"

A huge Zuxugna demon stood behind him.

Buffy couldn't understand why she hadn't felt it coming this time.

Maybe because fighting with Spike always turned her on.

The demon gurgled at her, and advanced.

"Crap." Spike wasn't moving. "Spike! Wake up you stupid pig!"

She faced the demon and smiled weakly. "You know," she began as she maneuvered toward the axe. "I really don't think that--that thing of yours will even fit inside me. So let's go find you someone more your species, whattaya think? At least..." she added with a smaller voice, "more your size?"

She managed to reach the axe, but the Zuxugna kicked it far from her reach.

The haze made it hard to see Spike. Her only option was to try to quell her rising sexual appetite, fight off the demon and get to the axe. Okay, strategy, Buffy. Think. ...Not about sex.

Buffy lay before the Zuxugna and called, "I give in! I'm helpless against your... slimy manhood!" When he got close enough, she swiftly kicked his legs out from under him. He toppled onto his back. Though her body pulsed with need, she was able to make a run for the axe. However, when she stood up again, there were three erect demons surrounding her.

"Yay," she said, not very happy at all. "My first gang bang."

She felt a wave of paralyzing pleasure and dropped the axe. Two of them grabbed her arms as Zuxugna #1 whapped a claw across her chest, slicing her tanktop open along with some skin. Blood trickled down her front.

"Okay...now...I'm upset," she said, her wavering voice not quite matching her anger. The more demons there were, the more pheromones apparently filled the air. She was able to fight one this time. But three? Against three she was pretty much screwed. That would be literally. She groaned.

When the Zuxugna's hideous phallus got close enough, she tried kicking it with all of her diminished power. It spurted a little, then sprang right back to life. "Eugh!"

He readied another claw, this time aiming lower. She realized it was trying to figure out how to get her clothing off. Good thing I don't wear skirts on patrol anymore, she thought, trying to strategize her next move.

Suddenly, an axe came down from nowhere. The Zuxugna gurgled one last time and fell. Spike materialized in the mist.

The two remaining demons went after Spike. "Yeah, come on, you ugly bastards!"

Buffy backed up, her legs giving way, her whole body buzzing with desire.

Not for the demons, though.

For Spike.

She heard the axe again. Two down. The third came lumbering towards Buffy. Spike stopped him in his tracks. This time some green, murky spew hit him. "Oh, bloody...hell!"

Buffy giggled.

He stood before her, extending a hand, using the other to wipe gunk off of his cheek. "Miss me?"

"Uh-huh." Take me, take me. Take me now.

He pulled her up to him, inspecting her front. "You're hurt, love."

"S'okay."

"Let's get you fixed up."

"'Kay." She coiled around him.

"Ow! Damn!"

"What is it, baby?" she asked, concern etching her features.

"Bloody demon scum burns!" As he tried to rub away the sting with his t-shirt, it occurred to Spike that Buffy the Vampire Slayer™ had just called him 'baby.' He wrapped his free arm around her tenderly.

Fondling his exposed chest, she cooed, "Oh, poor sweet baby! We gotta wash it off."

Her terms of endearment were turning him on but the stinging pain was ruining his fun. "Bloody hell!"

"Town pool!" Buffy pointed down the street.

"Right!" he said. "Come on."

* * * *

"Drained?" Buffy asked, staring at the empty pool. "It's practically the middle of summer!"

Spike pointed at a sign that said POOL CLOSED SUMMER 2001 FOR RENOVATIONS.

"Damn."

"Do these showers work?" Spike asked, opening one of the stall doors. He turned a rusted faucet and cold water streamed out. "Come on. Gotta wash out your cuts." He peeled his t-shirt off and stepped in.

Though the stall was shrouded in darkness, Spike's preternatural eyesight allowed him to see everything. He spotted a half-empty shampoo bottle and rubbed the soap onto his face and chest and rinsed. Luckily, the pain soon abated.

Buffy was behind him. In a sheer baby blue underwear set. She hissed as the bra hook snagged on her cut.

Spike turned his attention to fixing her up.

She recoiled as he rubbed the shampoo into her wound. "Ow!"

"I've gotta make sure none of it got into you," he explained.

As he ran the water over her cuts, Buffy tugged on his jeans.

"Buffy--"

She somehow got his belt off and pants open before he could protest. She lathed shampoo over his stomach, then onto his hardening cock. "Gotta make sure."

He could see her minxy little smile as her tiny hands stroked him. She pushed him under the stream of water.

Her mouth met his ear. "Baby, I'm bleeding."

"I know." Blood. Sex. Buffy. Oh God help me.

"Kiss and make better?"

Spike's demon emerged.

Which meant he couldn't be held accountable for what he said next:

"Yeah."

Slamming her against the shower wall, Spike lifted her up and licked her wound. He shook with lust as fresh Slayer blood warmed his body.

"Spike. Please, I need you," she begged.

That was all the coaxing he needed. He tore off her drenched blue thong and hiked her legs around his waist, suspending her in mid-air.

She gazed into his yellow eyes as she slowly descended, her slick pussy lips kissing his sensitive tip.

No more takin' this slow.

He rammed skyward and roared in lightning-bright ecstasy.

Buffy was wetter than he could imagine, tighter than he thought possible, and hotter than hell. He thought he would die right then and there.

Buffy cried out in delight.

Spike filled every inch of her, hard and cold as marble. She thought she would die right there and then.

It wouldn't be a bad way to go, they thought.

As she slid down, taking him in completely, she whispered, "Perfect fit."

Hungrily, he kissed her, and his face morphed back to its human visage. She stopped to look at him. Her mind flashed back to the dream she'd had. What was it she was reminded of?

Buffy grunted in pleasure when he slammed her against the wall again. So you can inflict pain as long as I'm game. "Gotta love that chip loophole," she found herself saying out loud.

"God bless the Initiative," Spike agreed.

Initiative. Riley. No, no. Not gonna go there. Buffy pushed away all feelings other than the intense joy that coincided with each thrust of Spike's hips.

"Spike's got you," he said sotto voce, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "Spike's got you now."

Damn you and your mindreading, Buffy thought with an unbidden thrill. Always know what I'm thinking, even when you pretend you don't...

"Got you," he repeated.

"Yes," she gasped.

"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," he babbled as he bore into her slick, inviting center.

The door he fucked her against gave and they toppled, naked, to the hard cement that surrounded the pool.

They shared a laugh. "Ow," she said, patting her head.

"You alright, pet?"

Buffy grasped the nape of his neck. "Don't stop."

"Never," he said earnestly, searching her eyes.

She pulled him in for a torrid kiss and wrapped her legs tightly around his.

As he drove into her, harder and faster, he pushed a single repeated sound out of her mouth and into his: "Unh! Unh! Unh!"

"Gonna come," she said, and directed him to the crimson gash over her right breast.

Fucking dream come fucking true was the last coherent thought Spike had before vamping out, sucking her blood hungrily and shooting his load into Buffy's hot core.

Buffy climaxed with a scream, thinking, Never, Never, Never so good...

* * * *

Spike became aware of his surroundings slowly. A warm female body underneath him. The smell of coagulated blood. Of...Buffy's coagulated blood. He extended his forearms to get a better look.

Naked, with a bite mark above her nipple punctuating the slash she'd suffered from the demon, Buffy slept soundly. The night came crashing back to him. Damn. Damn damn damn...

A bird chirped. A bird? He bolted upright.

It was then that he noticed that it was nearly sunrise. And he was blocks away from shelter.

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, standing and yanking up the still damp black jeans that never made it all the way off his legs. "Shirt! Bloody shirt!" He found it flung across the top of a shower stall. His jacket was lying a few feet away.

His first instinct to flee was diverted when he looked at her again. So sweet. So trusting. So...deadly. He sighed. Gonna kill me when she wakes up and sees what I've done to her. He debated leaving her there. No, she'll kill me either way. May as well get her home first.

If he could just do it without waking her...

Her clothes were piled outside the stall. He quickly tugged her slacks up her legs and pulled the tattered tanktop over her head. "S'not a school day!" she sleep-whined. He chuckled and carefully scooped her up.

As expected, no one paid any mind to the wet vampire running through Sunnydale carrying an unconscious, blood-smeared damsel in his arms.

The sun neared the horizon, giving Spike a horrible chill.

Thank god. Revello Drive.

He ran up the front walk of Buffy's home and kicked the door in.

He thanked the heavens that Dawn was sleeping over at Willow's as he carefully tread up the stairs and into Buffy's room.

Depositing her on the bed, he tucked her in and kissed her forehead. He stopped to caress her face, afraid it would be the last time.

She moaned and grasped his hand. Wresting free, he whispered, "Sorry, love," and went for the door.

Part Six: Dirty Little Secret

"What the hell was that?" Buffy demanded.

Spike hadn't been sleeping. He'd been waiting for her to storm into his crypt like this, angry as hell and ready to stake him good and proper this time.

He held his breath. There was nothing he could say.

"Tell me, Spike." She stalked over to him. "Tell me why I woke up this morning alone."

"Buffy." He stopped, and looked at her for the first time since she'd arrived. "What?"

"I mean, I can't figure it out. It's not like you had a soul to lose. And I know I'm not a bad lover."

A bad lover? She thinks... "What?"

"If you think you're gonna pull that now-that-I've-banged-you-don't-call-me riff, you've got another fucking think coming."

"Buffy!" He stood up and grasped her shoulders. "That's not why I left!"

"So why did you?" She looked ready to cry.

"Because I failed you!"

She knit her brow. "What?"

"You were... vulnerable and, I, I was weak. You were counting on me to take care of you. But then there was blood--and I couldn't stop myself. And now..." He sat down on the bare sarcophagus. Now I'm nothing but a monster to you.

Buffy's tone softened. "You did take care of me." She tried to make eye contact. "It takes two, you know. I wanted it."

He bristled. "Yeah, it. Not me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Buffy. In that state you would've pounced on the nearest vaguely human-shaped body." He shrugged. "I just happened to be that body."

"So that's what this is about? Your ego is bruised?"

Spike sighed.

"You know," Buffy started, "for one of the most annoyingly perceptive people I've ever met, you sure are an idiot."

He looked at her.

She sighed in exasperation. "Think for a minute, Spike. Why did I dream about you that first night? I mean, for all intents and purposes I could've dreamed about anyone. And what the hell does an aphrodisiac demon have to do with letting you suck my blood?"

Spike was quieted.

"Why do you think I wanted you and you alone, the one and only Spike, William the Great and Bloody, to take care of me these past few nights?"

He still didn't speak, but smiled a little at the extension of his moniker.

"I'll give you a hint. It's not just because you're almost as strong as me."

"Why, then?" he asked, eying her suspiciously. He noticed she was wearing a cruelly irresistible little pink wraparound dress.

"Because I like you!" she cried, arms outspread. "Because I have a thing for you. And because," she sighed and lowered her voice, "you're the only one who can make me come."

Was this a trick? Had she sent in the Buffybot to toy with his emotions?

She approached him slowly, confidently. "You know that moment," she started as she straddled his lap, "when you're so close..." her arms around his neck, fingers brushing over the nape, "and you just need something to think about--that one thing that flashes in your mind to..." her eyelashes swept down and up, "push you right over the edge?"

Spike nodded, entranced. He knew that moment all too well: the one where anything goes. Where she'd taken up residence for years before he admitted his attraction.

"It's always been you," she whispered.

Spike was astonished. He whispered, "Me?"

She nodded with a womanly smile.

"Always?"

"Always."

Their lips touched. He fingered the soft fabric of the wrap dress he was about to unwrap. "What's this, anyway?"

Buffy smiled. "It was the frilliest thing I had. Not a cheerleading uniform, I know--"

"You wore it for me?"

"Like it?"

He answered with a deep, searing kiss.

* * * *

"Always me, eh?" Spike said, grabbing the lighter from his jacket pocket.

"I can see I never should have told you this." Buffy rested on his bare chest, exhausted from another earth-shattering orgasm.

"All the years I've known you, all the tossers you've shared a bed with, all the times you've pleasured yourself." He beamed with male pride. "You thought of me."

"Only for like, a second. And, just for the record, there haven't been that many...tossers. It shouldn't merit an 'all'."

"Your dirty little secret." He shook his head and lit the cigarette that jutted from his mouth. "Spike, all along."

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

Spike exhaled. "Not until I know exactly how, when, where, etcetera etcetera."

"I am not telling you anything."

"Ashamed you've always wanted to shag me, are you?"

"Hey, sexual fantasies can have nothing to do with what you want in real life."

"I believe that's usually followed by, 'as long as you don't act on them'."

She giggled. "Oh, yeah."

"Looks like you're past the point of no return, love." He ran his thumb along her rapidly healing bite marks.

"Looks like." Buffy twined her fingers in his. "You said it yourself, I've got 'bleedin' tragic taste in men'."

Spike gasped in mock surprise. "'Sthat how you think I talk?"

"It is how you talk. Bleedin', bloody, bollocky, blah blah blah."

"Hate to tell you this, love, but you've got the worst English accent I've ever heard."

"Oh yeah? Tell me you're a 'friend of Xanderrrrrzzz.'"

"Alright. Fine. I won't fake yours if you won't fake mine."

"Deal." Buffy moved on top of him and snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, flinging it across the crypt.

"Don't tell me you're gonna make me quit now."

"No. I just need your mouth."

"Oh. Better."

* * * *

"Hey, guys."

"Buffy. Spike. It's been... a few days," Giles said.

"Yeah, major demon-slayage," Buffy said casually. "Did you need me?"

"Well, actually, yes. We've just discovered something quite unsettling about these, er, Zuxugnas."

"More unsettling than them wanting to mate with me?"

"I suppose not. But there have been a great deal more attacks. It appears an entire army of Zuxugna males escaped from the portal."

"Those crazy demons. They just keep a-comin'," Xander said.

"Xander!" Buffy wrinkled her nose at him and turned back to Giles. "How many make an army?"

"Possibly hundreds."

"Oh. Great. Looks like the fun has just started." Buffy took a seat at the table.

Spike knew enough not to sit next to her. Instead, he stood where he could see her.

"I like your dress," Anya said.

"Thanks, Anya," Buffy replied, surprised at the compliment.

Spike smiled. After all, he'd had a hand in picking it out.

"Buffy, I think it may be wise for all of us to work together on this. You can't fight an army alone. Or, rather, Spike can't."

"Hey!" Spike said.

"What do you mean, work together?" Buffy stammered.

"We should all be on patrol with you. If they're as easy to kill as you say... "

"Willow, can't we just find a way to send them back to their own dimension? Like the troll guy?"

"I'm on it already. It'd be tough though, with so many. They'd all have to be in one place at once. And sending something back to its exact dimension is tricky."

"Who cares as long as its not this one?"

"It could be a land of-of fluffy bunnies," Tara offered. "That could be a real disaster."

"Bunnies?" Anya cried. "Bunnies?!" She looked to Xander, who put an arm around his panicking fiance.

"S-sorry," Tara apologized. "It was just an example."

"In any case," Giles began, "until we learn how to banish them, it would be best if we all came with you--just in case you're outnumbered."

Buffy sighed and looked at Spike. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. "Okay," she said. "But you guys should keep your distance 'til they show. They won't come after anyone but me unless they think you're in the way."

* * * *

"Spike, I've got an idea," Buffy whispered, feeling her temperature rise.

"Yeah?"

"You guys?" she called out to her friends who trailed behind. "They're close! Stay back for a minute!"

Five silhouettes stopped at the top of a hill behind them.

"C'mere." Buffy grabbed Spike and pushed him into the nearest crypt, ushering him into a dark corner. She lifted the hem of her new dress.

He grinned. "Love, this is hardly the--"

"Don't argue. Fuck me."

Shrugging, he spun her around to face the crypt wall and unbuttoned his jeans, then pushed her panties aside.

"Keep quiet," he said.

* * * *

"It's okay, they're still up there." Buffy tried to discreetly wipe away the mingled ejaculates that trailed down her bare inner thigh.

"No demons yet," Spike said.

"Good timing, baby," she said.

He looked at her. "I think I'd like to hear you call me that when you're not under the influence."

"What are you talking about? I'm not."

Spike was visibly perplexed.

"Duh! Why do you think we just...did what we did?" she asked, aware of her slowly advancing friends.

"'Cause you're horny?" he whispered.

"Well, yeah. But also 'cause it neutralizes their power over me."

"So you're one hundred percent now."

"One hundred percent."

"And you just called me 'baby'."

"Shhh."

"Buffy! Behind you!" Giles' voice.

She back snap-kicked the demon and sent it flying.

"Sorry, the Buffay's not open today," she punned with a smile. Then, grabbing the axe from Spike's hand, she chopped cleanly across the offending object.

The gang came running.

"Buffy, that was splendid," Giles said, catching his breath. "I thought you were powerless against them."

Buffy shrugged. "I'm learning to overcome."

Part Seven: Bloody Heaven

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Buffy popped the microwave open and scanned the counter tops for the meat thermometer. She checked the silverware drawer, then the junk drawer. Nothing. She bent down to look in the cupboard under the sink.

A cool hand cupped her ass. "Mmmm...don't mind if I do--"

"Spike!" She jumped up.

He caressed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her and gave her breasts a possessive squeeze.

Buffy almost buckled from the rumbling he was doing in her ear. Then she remembered why she wanted him to stop. "Spike. Stop. Dawn."

"Actually, it's dusk, love, but--"

"No, my sister, Dawn."

"What's she got to do with this?" He whispered, squeezing harder.

"She's here."

He pulled away. "You brought her back with you?" He looked behind him and lowered his voice. "I thought we'd be alone tonight."

"I know. I just...she wanted to be home, and--I can't keep asking my friends to take her in. They're gonna suspect something."

"But--nasty demons. Grrr," he added for emphasis.

"We already know they won't hurt her."

"What about patrolling?"

"Not tonight. She wanted some QT. I can't refuse her that."

"And if the Zuxugnas come here and break down the door?"

"Then we kill them."

Spike sighed. "Alright."

"You'll be good?"

He put his hands in his back pockets. "I'll be good. But I'll be better after she's asleep." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Spike," she warned with a smile.

Suddenly, he sniffed the air and asked, "Are you--?"

Buffy bristled. "I was making--in the microwave."

He walked over to it. "Thought I smelled something," he sniffed the cup with a skeptical look, "human..."

She looked a little guilty. "It fell off a truck?"

"You stole human blood for me?"

"Shhhh!" she whispered. "Sort of. Don't get all excited."

"Hey Spike," Dawn said casually as she walked in the room.

"Niblet," Spike greeted, still staring at Buffy.

* * * *

"I don't get it," Dawn said from her spot on the floor. "If she liked him all along, why didn't she just say so in the beginning?"

Buffy and Spike shared a meaningful glance.

"Then there wouldn't be a movie," Buffy answered.

"More fun that way," Spike added. A little buzzed from the blood, he took the Slayer's bare foot in his lap. She unsuccessfully tried to kick him away.

Upon brushing his fingers softly across a delicate arch, he became aware of a familiar scent.

He stood at the ready. "Shut it off."

Dawn quickly hit a button on the remote control. "What is it?"

"Spike?" Buffy said.

He waved her away, trying to hear.

"Spike," Buffy said again, louder.

"Grab an axe."

"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "Sit down."

He turned to look at her.

She looked vaguely embarrassed. "There are no demons."

"What do you mean? I can sm--"

"No demons, Spike," she asserted.

"You can smell the demons?" Dawn asked, nose wrinkling.

Spike frowned at Buffy, until realization hit.

He grinned.

She smiled shyly.

"No... Thought I heard something," he said, and sidled up to his former enemy who could now become fully aroused at his slightest touch.

"Geez," Dawn said, turning the TV back on. "Paranoid much?"

"Much," Spike said, unable to tear his eyes away. God, he wanted her.

* * * *

Dawn yawned and stretched. "I'm beat. I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"But it's still early," Buffy said. The living room clock pointed at 9:30.

"Giles had me cataloging today. I think it fried my brain."

"Working for him again tomorrow?"

"Yup. Every day but Sunday and Monday, all summer. Big bucks."

"Yay big bucks," Buffy said.

"Big yay. Night guys."

"Night, Bit," he said.

"Night, Dawn," she said.

The girl disappeared up the stairs.

Spike waited.

Then pounced.

"Spike!" Buffy whispered harshly. "Stop! She'll hear!"

He grabbed the remote and turned the volume up.

"Baby's got a treat for daddy," he said, tongue wiggling out, wicked smile on his face.

Buffy looked horrified. "No!"

Holding her hips, he nuzzled his head between her legs and inhaled heartily. "Oh yes you do."

"Spike! You're disgusting! Leave me alone!"

"Not disgusting! Natural! Beautiful!"

"Oh whatever!" She kicked him off. "This is not a treat for you."

"What were you gonna do?" he asked. "Donate blood, steal it, present it in a fancy mug once a month and just hope I can't pick up the scent?"

She frowned, hating that he was so smart. "That was the plan."

"It's got a completely different scent, you know--"

"I thought you'd at least be distracted--"

"Not that I mind the gesture."

"Well, it's null and void now," she huffed.

"Why don't you let me have a taste then?"

"From my neck, yes. From there--no. No no no no no no no," she stressed.

"Why?"

"Because it's... gross!"

"Come on. I'm a vampire. It's what I do."

"Exactly. Gross."

"How can it be gross? It's the beauty of human femininity! It means you can make life."

"What's gross is making it your after-dinner drink."

"Buffy, people do it all the time. There's nothing wrong with it."

"Oh yeah? What do they do exactly?"

"Have a good time when the girl's got her monthlies," he sing-songed.

"I'll go down on you," she offered.

"Before or after I go down on you?" he asked.

She sighed. "You're impossible."

"Come on, off with you," he said to her capri jeans.

"First of all, the pants can't hear you."

She swatted his hand away.

"And this is a brand new couch--"

"I won't spill," he said with a smile.

"--and my sister could walk down at any minute--"

"I'll take you in the bedroom," he offered.

"No," Buffy said.

"The shower?"

"No!" Buffy said.

"Buffy..." he began to climb up her body slowly, his demeanor changing. He got to her ear. "I know there's some tiny part of you that wants to give your Spike a little taste."

She shivered underneath him. "No," she said.

"Oh yes...I can feel it," he said as he clasped her hands over her head.

"I hate you," she said, her resolve crumbling.

"No, you don't," he said. "Open up for daddy. Just for a minute. I'll stop if you don't like it."

"You will not."

"I will!" he said. "Cross my heart." He kissed her.

She rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily. "Okay."

He jumped up and began to unbutton her pants.

"Hey!" She pointed up the stairs.

"I can hear her snoring," Spike said. "She's asleep."

"But...the couch!"

"On the floor then." He rolled them onto the floor.

She struggled as he pulled her pants off. "At least let me go to the bathroom first--"

He yanked down her black cotton panties.

"--to take out the--"

He stopped and looked at it. "What's this?"

She tried to close her legs, but he wouldn't let her. "It's called a tampon, Spike."

He tugged on the string.

Before she could protest, he'd tugged it all the way out. "Spike!!"

It dangled in front of his face. He was fascinated.

"Spike! Put it--" She tried to grab a napkin from the coffee table, then saw what he was about to do. "If you dare put that in your mouth I'm never having sex with you ever again."

He shrugged. "One man's tampon," he said, dropping it into his mug of blood, "another man's teabag."

"You're the grossest most disgusting man alive."

"Undead," he corrected.

"Whatever. Get that out of here now."

"Here," he said and stuffed a napkin into the mug to cover it up.

"Spike--"

Done with talking, he descended and licked her from bottom to top.

Buffy forgot the points of her argument. All that mattered was his mouth and how it made her feel.

Spike reveled in the taste of her blood. It was delicious--aromatic and sweet. If her come is the food of the gods, he thought, this is the food of the Devil Herself.

Spike couldn't stop himself from morphing into the demon he was.

Buffy spasmed helplessly beneath him as he tongued her deeply and rubbed her clitoris. After a few moments, she grabbed hold of his ears, and a blood and come cocktail flowed copiously into his mouth.

Dazedly, he dragged Buffy's limp body towards him and thrust into her, grunting in release.

He held onto her tightly as his body calmed.

"Bloody hell."

"Got the bloody part right," she said with a giggle.

"Bloody heaven," he said.

They giggled together.

He moved to kiss her but she pushed him away.

"Woah, Willy," Buffy said. "Now we shower."

Interlude: Night Sweat

"Where the hell are you?" Buffy muttered, shaking the clock by her bed, as if that would force it to tell a different, earlier time.

It had been over an hour--eighty-three minutes to be exact--and she was still waiting for him.

Spike usually crept into her room moments after her sister's first audible snore. The snore that happened eighty-three minutes ago. No, wait--eighty-four.

"If he's watching some stupid movie..." she grumbled.

Buffy sat up in bed and grabbed her pajama top. If he wasn't coming up, she was going down.

Definitely going down, she thought, a warm sensation filling her. She loved that helpless look on his face when she...

Anyway, she was mad at him.

Not bothering to look for any underwear, she tiptoed out the door and made her way downstairs to the couch he'd made his home.

There he lay, bathed in the television's glow. Shirtless, hugging the remote control, out cold. Literally. Vampire and all.

She smiled to herself. It had been a rough night. Lots of demon-hunting, no demons--many vampires. And a very close call.

Happening upon a lair in an abandoned monastery by the highway, they'd shrugged, thinking, what the hell? After busting in, however, it was apparent that there were a few more than they'd bargained for. At once, a kind of telepathy took over, surging between them as they downed one after the other. Buffy was thrilled...and more than a little turned on.

They'd fucked right afterward, there on the floor, Buffy's back scraping against dusty vampire remains.

But only he'd gotten off. And that was no good.

Not that he wouldn't have tried--he was always very considerate. But another vamp had been hanging in the shadows and chose that moment to pounce, stake narrowly missing her lover's back.

It was then that she realized her extrasensory tinglies weren't working overtime just for Spike.

Right now, though, they were.

She pulled the remote out of his grasp and whispered, "Spike?"

Nothing.

It always sort of creeped her a little, that he looked so dead when he was asleep. No breathing. Not even a heartbeat. Just...pretty much dead.

She wanted him awake and pretending like he was alive again.

Buffy turned off the TV and dropped the remote. Darkness was good, just in case Dawn decided to venture downstairs mid-fun.

She straddled his hips and nipped on his neck. "Spike?"

Trailing down his chest, circling her tongue around one nipple while squeezing the other with her fingertips, she felt him harden beneath her and make a tiny sound. This was an improvement.

She unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans open, then wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock. Enjoying the way it jumped and pulsed in her mouth, she relaxed her throat and descended, then sucked her cheeks in as she rolled back up.

A hand moved into her hair. "Dru..."

Dru?! Buffy whipped her head up and let his cock flop back onto his belly with a thwack.

Spike was smiling down at her and chuckling, one arm behind his head.

She narrowed her eyes and sprung back on top of him. "Funny."

"I thought so."

"Just for that, no blowjob." She lifted off of him a little and held his cock tightly, poising herself over it.

"Pity," he said, eyes fixed on what she was about to do. He lifted her pajama top to get a better view.

Buffy smiled, and took him into her, reveling in the little shivers that ran up her spine and lingered at her neck.

His eyes glazed over and he gripped her waist as she pumped up and down, quickening the pace, her breathing heavy and rhythmic.

It was one of his favorite sounds, second only to the big orgasmic scream.

As he fondled her soft breasts, he choked, "Buffy..."

Head falling back, she moaned, "Mmm...Angel..."

Spike froze, and pushed her off of him.

He shot up to kneel over her. "What the hell was--?"

She giggled.

He smirked. "Oh, you're a hoot." Roughly spinning her around, his voice dropped to a sinister snarl. "Too bad Angel can't do this." He drove into her fiercely, knocking the wind out of her. "Or this." He ripped her pajama top and sunk sharp fangs into her shoulder.

Buffy cried out in surprise and pain.

His hand cupped over her mouth as he convulsively drank and fucked her, bruising her inside and out.

Note to self, Buffy thought dimly. Don't bring up Angel ever again.

She could stop him. She should stop him...but his crazed possessiveness was turning her on.

She'd never encountered his demon in full force before. Could be bad...

When she started to sweat and feel a little dizzy, she concluded, Definitely bad...

"Spi-ike..." she managed to sputter through his fingers.

Spike foggily realized what he was doing. He was drinking way too much and fucking her way too hard, and this time she wasn't under any demon mojo.

His fangs immediately receded, and he licked and kissed her wound, then hooked his chin over her shoulder. "Sorry, love. It's just..."

"I know, baby." She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and petted him, adding, "There is a way you can make it up to me, though."

He smiled and pulled her up. "Is there?"

"Uh huh." She turned to face him, wiping the blood from her shoulder and casually bringing it to his mouth.

He paused for a second, then licked it off with a smile. "And that is...?"

She unceremoniously shoved his head down until his nose touched her soft curls.

He laughed and dipped his tongue in, making her spasm and clamp her thighs around his ears.

Spike loved the taste of her: lemon and peach. And the scent...

He peeked upwards as he began to lash at her mercilessly. Head whipping back and forth on the couch pillow, mouth open in a silent wail. Magnificent.

Spike held her down and tightened his lips around her clit, sucking gently. Her body shook as she let slip a strangled cry.

He made a slight adjustment in his mind. That was his second favorite sound.

As her legs tremored in aftershock, Spike zealously consumed her remaining juices.

In time with his lapping, she groaned, "How...how...how did you get so good at this..."

He looked up with a grin, mouth shiny. "Years of practice."

"I don't wanna know about your practice!" she chided with a light slap to his head.

He folded his arms over her taut belly and rested his chin there. "I love it when you're jealous."

"Well I don't love it when you are."

"Sure you do." He bent down and enunciated between licks, "That's...why...you're so...wet."

"Shhh...!" She yanked him up by his ear and pulled his face to hers, whispering defiantly, "Am not. Was wet before. All that waiting..."

He chuckled. "Maybe so, but I can feel it, Slayer--when you get extra tingly. Knowin' how angry I was...roughing you up..." He gazed at her glistening mouth.

"Don't like it rough," she pouted.

"Do so. Pouty," he teased, and tugged at her lip with his teeth.

She pushed his chest upwards, her eyes gleaming. "So?"

"What?"

"So get with the roughing up already."

"Nah," he said. "I'm thinkin' sweet and tender."

She smiled. "Really."

"Yeah." He pressed himself against her and murmured, "I can do tender too, you know."

"You. Tender." She snorted in disbelief.

He didn't say another word. Just brushed her hair back and kissed her, softly, sweetly. Gazing into her eyes, he rested the tip of his length at her opening, slowly rotating his hips and easing into her, inch by painstaking inch.

Buffy reached down and cupped his ass, attempting to push him in. Spike shooed her hand away. "Let it happen."

It took several more steady, leisurely strokes before he was buried to the hilt.

Arching and moaning into him, she admitted she was wrong. He definitely knew tender.

The sight of his muscled chest enveloping her, the feel of his mouth so close to hers...Plus his stomach was rubbing against her in the most pleasant of ways...

With a sudden exhale, Buffy quaked in orgasm.

Nearing his own climax, one image replayed in Spike's mind: Buffy touches shoulder, brings blood to his lips. Doesn't give it a second thought. Doesn't realize what it means.

He bit back a growl as he spilled his seed into her.

"Buffy," he whispered, and kissed her soundly. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but everything was different now that they were together. He knew she'd feel pressured if he said it. And he didn't want to hear her reaction. No, it was better to leave it unsaid.

"Like tender," Buffy said, nodding. "Tender good."

He smiled. "Good. Now can I spank you?"

"You're evil."

"So I've been told." He growled as he caught her lips again.

After more langorous kisses, she stopped him with a regretful sigh. "I'd better go back to bed."

Spike kissed her eyelids. "Don't go."

"Oh, sure. 'Dawn, it's not what you think. Spike just got very tired and fell asleep inside of me.'"

"Right," he said, reluctantly allowing her to sit up.

"And by the way? You owe me new jammies."

"What?"

"Pajamas?" She tugged on her ripped top.

"Why? You never wear 'em."

She rolled her eyes as she got up. "Evil."

"You love it," he said, caressing her bare bottom.

She bent down to kiss him. "Goodnight, Spike."

He wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

She swatted his hands away and wagged a finger at him. "Don't start, you..." Her eyes darted to something behind him. "Oh my god, I can't believe you!" She pushed past him and adjusted the curtain that had been opened just a sliver. "Are you trying to get fried?"

He tried not to swell with adoration--really he did.

Luckily, she didn't notice. "Sheesh," she said, absentmindedly pressing her lips against his forehead. "Sleep tight, okay?"

It was a little hard for him to speak, but he managed, "Yeah. You too."

Spike let her hand go and watched her graceful climb up the staircase.

When he could move again, he laid back and stretched his legs on the couch.

Well...she'd done it. She'd come down to find him.

It was his little experiment for the night: He wouldn't go to her. He'd wait. See if she wanted him as much as he always wanted her, especially without those ridiculous Zuxugna demons lumbering about.

But not only had she passed his little test, she'd also proved that he was so much more than just a guilty pleasure. In fact, he could swear she'd just treated him like...a boyfriend?

Spike folded his arms behind his head and beamed. "Well, I'll be damned."