Spike was only half-aware of his surroundings when he woke from a very vivid dream, of which was starring him and a certain blond twit, lying on a blanket out in the sunshine, screwing their brains out among the daisies while deer frolicked nearby with big Disney eyes.

        “Damn pervert deer,” Spike mumbled as he slowly came awake, wearily running a hand over his face, preparing to face another day of watching his bastard Sire either shagging or beating his darling Drusilla, or whining like the soddin' git he was about Buffy continuing to kill his idiot fledglings.

        Gee…with a day like that to look forward too, it was pretty amazing that Spike hadn't found the Slayer and begged her to shove a stake in his heart. He frowned slightly at his thought of the Slayer, something nagging at the back of his mind…something he really should be able to remember…

        Spike heard someone sigh softly, and he finally woke up enough to realize that his arms were wrapped around the waist of a very warm body; one with a heart-beat and a tousle of golden blond hair that glimmered faintly in the light that escaped the blinds over the window.

        Oh…right…Spike grinned goofily, his eyes traveling over Buffy's face, completely composed and filled with an innocent beauty that would tug at any savage beast's heart-strings; said heart-strings nearly wrenched themselves from his chest when his gaze fell on the bite-mark marring the pristine perfection of Buffy's throat. Christ, but was his Sire going to be pissed when he saw that.

        Wait…Sire…FUCK! Spike shot upwards, looking towards the clock on Buffy's bedside table with a groan. She was supposed to have met her mates at the library three hours ago! The damned Watcher and her annoying friends would be pounding down the door, looking for her at any moment now. That tasty little redhead would probably have spilled the beans about him sharing a roof with the Slayer, probably worried he was draining and turning her friend at that very moment.

        “Fuck…Buffy…” Spike laid his hand on one golden shoulder, giving her a light shake, ignoring the twinge in his cock as she rolled over onto her back, rose-tipped breasts staring up at him and begging for him to suck those pretty little nipples into his mouth.

        “Hmmm…go `way,” Buffy mumbled sleepily, rolling into his arms and snuggling her face into his chest, “Sleepy…wore me out…”

        Okay…no one would blame him for the triumphant smirk that crossed over his lips at that little remark. He was probably the only vampire in history to have completely worn out a Slayer…Angel didn't count, since the prat had only taken her one time and then pranced off the land of the Soulless Gits. Probably didn't even make sure she came first, the shit.

        He was distracted from his thoughts as a small, warm hand caressed his chest, and his eyes closed with a groan when he felt Buffy's lips kissing along his breast bone. “Scars all gone,” She mumbled, still half-asleep as his cock jumped to life, brushing against her stomach. Her hand abandoned his chest in favor of the new plaything that was pressing insistently against her, and she smiled as Spike let out a growl when she grasped his rigid cock, stroking it to full hardness.

        “Buffy…pet…aw…Christ…” Spike was finding it hard to concentrate, “Mates…library…late…”

        “Hmmm…what?” She murmured, and then jerked away from him, “OH SHIT!”

        “Oh God…” Spike's eyes crossed in sexual frustration as he watched as Buffy hopped out of bed, starting to run frantically around her room. He sighed heavily as she grabbed a hair brush and yanked it through her tangled hair, while at the same time, trying to pull a pair of panties over her legs. He would have been suitably impressed by her not tripping over her own feet and spilling onto her face, but he was a little distracted by his hard-on, which was now starting to throb painfully as he was forced to watch her free breasts bouncing all over the place.

        “Giles is going to kill me,” Buffy moaned as she tried to ignore the stickiness of their combined fluids covering the inside of her thighs, “I'm so dead!” She glanced towards Spike, about to ask him where he had tossed her sports bra when she froze, eyes widening when she saw what he was doing, “Ew! Spike! Don't jerk off on my bed!”

        “What? Gettin' delicate on me now, Slayer?” He asked with a salacious grin, his tongue peeking out between his very white teeth. He rolled to his side so that she had the full view as he continued to stroke himself, “Don't think it'll be mattering anyway, precious; goin' to have to change the sheets anyhow.”

        Buffy didn't answer him, instead watching almost avidly as he jerked himself off, face flushing as arousal flooded her fresh panties. The muscles in his arm flickered beneath his skin, and the head of his cock was weeping with precum. He was definitely beautiful to watch as he brought himself off, and she remembered when she had last seen him doing it in his bedroom, her name on his lips as he came.

        “C'mere,” He ordered her in a rough voice, and she found herself obeying despite herself, and he gestured for her to lay down on the bed beside him.

        She was still wearing only her panties, and she watched as he rose to his knees, his eyes closing as he continued to stroke himself. She reached up to touch him, but he slapped her hand away, eyes flashing open with a hint of amber as he growled, “Touch your breasts…” He ordered her, and watched as Buffy hesitantly brought her hands up to her own breasts and began to timidly fondle them.

        She moved her eyes from his face, back down to the hard length of flesh he was roughly pumping, the tip nearly purple with his borrowed blood. She felt another wave of arousal soak her panties, and she pinched one of her nipples, gasping a little as it sent shockwaves of pleasure straight to her core. She did it again, body arching off the bed slightly, and her tongue flashed over her lips as Spike groaned above her, his hips thrusting into his fisted hand.

        “Fuck…gonna cum…” Spike grunted before pulling at his cock once more, and he watched as his pearly-white semen spilled from his dick and splashed over Buffy's breasts and abdomen. She let out a sharp little gasp as her hands slipped through the vicous fluid, and then Spike was on her with a growl, hands ripping away at her underwear and then burrowing his mouth in her dripping snatch.

        Buffy's hips arched off the bed as she cried out sharply as his tongue stabbed against her clit, his lips sucking furiously at her inner lips. She came with a shrill scream, pressing her pelvis hard into his face as he drew out her orgasm till she was nearly sobbing with pleasure that would soon become pain.

        She gasped for breath harshly, her gaze somewhat disjointed as Spike came back up to her side, a evil grin on his face as he dipped his head down, sucking a semen-covered nipple into his mouth, nipping it roughly. “Hmm…” He licked his lips as he straightened, looking straight into Buffy's face, “Tastes good,” He told her huskily, “Your sweat and my cum…”

        Buffy flushed a bright, cherry red, and Spike smiled at her, a real, genuine smile as he leaned over to capture her lips in a quick, but tender kiss. “How `bout you hop in the shower, and I'll join you in a few ticks?” He said, and Buffy nodded, looking a little flustered still, and he rolled onto his back as she scampered out of bed and got her cute little arse to the bathroom.

        Spike grinned in satisfaction, glancing down at his dick, which was already starting to harden at the thought of what he was going to teach his little minx about the fun to be had in a shower. He was almost giddy right now…like a soddin' school boy about to lose his virginity. He fought to compose himself so he wouldn't go into his sleek and wet Buffy grinning like a moron, but he was having a hard time of it. His little Slayer had let him cum on her breasts, and despite the blushing and shocked look, she had liked it, the naughty little strumpet.

        Spike rolled off the bed, already ready and willing for another go-round; even if the Watcher burst into the bathroom, brandishing an ax to remove his bits and pieces, it would still not ruin his good mood. Spike couldn't help it; he was whistling a jaunty tone as he strolled naked out of the Slayer's bedroom and into the wet arms of his awaiting lover.

        Giles was going to kill her…or at least lecture her till she wished she was dead, but that still didn't wipe the wide smile off of her face.

        There were twinges of soreness between her thighs, but it was a good soreness. She closed her eyes, the image of Spike plunging into her with wild abandon, grunting and growling like a wild animal as their water-slicked bodies slipped together, his skin warmed by the hot water pounding down on them…

        Buffy pressed her thighs together as she felt her panties rubbing wetly against them, and she shook her head with a sigh, wondering if there was seriously something wrong with her. She fingered the collar of high-necked blouse, hoping that no one would notice that she was a little overdressed for just a Scooby meeting. She was already in enough trouble without showing off the new bite-mark that graced her throat. As if letting her mortal enemy take her body wasn't bad enough, she had let him bite her. However, she just couldn't seem to work up any guilt.

        Sure, she had fucked Spike, five times, but she just didn't feel bad about it. At least, not while she still felt her body humming in satiated pleasure.

        Buffy shook her head, clearing her mind of those thoughts as she banged through the library doors, startling everyone there.

        “Jesus, Buffy!” Xander covered his chest, giving her a look, “Heart-attack much?”

        Giles was standing near the weapons cage, holding a cross-bow in his arms, and looking incredibly pissed. Oh…there's the guilt now…Buffy's face flushed under her Watcher's stern gaze.

        “We were about ready to send a search party after you,” Giles said, shaking his head, “We called and called, but you didn't pick up the phone!”

        “I'm sorry,” Buffy glanced around at her friends, and flushed a little bit more when she saw Willow staring at her covered throat, eyebrow raised slightly. “I…I just closed my eyes for a couple minutes…guess I sleep with the dead…” Buffy's eyes went wide when she realized what she said. “Sleep like the dead!” Oh…God…however, to her relieve, no one seemed to notice her slip up. Expect maybe Willow, whose eyebrows shot up so high that they disappeared beneath her hairline.

        Giles sighed heavily, “Please, don't let it happen again,” He said, “We were quite worried…”

        “Sorry, Giles,” Buffy mumbled, and then straightened, “So, um…what's the game plan?”

        “We don't have one yet,” Xander piped up, “But when we do…it'll be a doozy…”

        “God, you're such a dork,” Cordelia complained, rolling her eyes, “Doozy?”

        Giles rolled his eyes as the two teenagers started to argue, and knew that soon, they would both be back in the stacks, thinking that no one could hear them making out. He turned his gaze back to Buffy, raising an eyebrow, “I think the nap has done you some good, Buffy,” He said, “You're positively glowing…when was the last time you've really slept?”

        “Been awhile,” Buffy admitted, “I haven't slept that good in a long time.” Which was true, actually. Nothing helped you sleep better then multiple orgasms achieved with something that didn't need batteries. Buffy peeked at Willow out of the corner of her eyes, seeing the redhead watching her with avid interest, a slight smile playing across her lips. Oh, she was going to be tortured big time by her best friend and forced to spill the beans.

        “Good, good,” Giles said, putting down the crossbow and moving towards his counter, picking up a newspaper and he cleared his throat loudly, breaking up the argument between Cordelia and Xander. “Now…if we can get to business?”

        “Sorry, G-man,” Xander said as Cordelia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest with a grumble.

        “We have reason to believe that Angelus is involved in the theft at the Sunnydale Museum,” Giles told Buffy, handing her the newspaper and she glanced down at the picture of the artifact taken.

        “It's a rock…” Buffy frowned, and then looked up at Giles in confusion, “Why would Angel steal a rock?”

        “It's not just a rock, Buffy,” Giles sighed, “I had a chance to look at it before it was stolen…and I do think that…well…it has the ability to swallow the world and turn it into…well…into Hell…”

        “Oh! Great,” Buffy tossed the paper away, “Just great! Ruining my life wasn't enough for him…now he has to go and end the world. What? Did this guy not get enough attention as a kid?!”

        “Whooo…” Xander pumped his hand in the air, “Buffy, ribbing on the Dead One? Does this mean you're over the jerk?”

        “I'm so over him, it's not even funny,” Buffy replied, a faint smile playing across her lips. She hid it before anyone could notice and comment on it…not that it escaped Willow's eye, but at least the others were still oblivious to it.  “So, any idea when the big rock's going to do its thing?”

        “It depends on how long it takes Angelus to figure out how it works,” Giles told her, “I doubt very much he can translate the writings on the side; there is no in Sunnydale who can decipher the writings…well,” Giles smiled smugly, “No one but me…but he doesn't know that.”

        “Yeah, but it wouldn't take much to figure that out,” Buffy pointed out, rolling her eyes, “You're the Watcher guy…you know all kinds of obscure writing stuff no one else gives a crap about. I wouldn't put it past him to at least grab you to find out.”

        “Well…uh…that is a possibility,” Giles glanced towards Willow, “Which we hope we can forestall…Willow found something that may have been of use to us…”

        All eyes turned to Willow, and she blushed scarlet, shooting a slightly guilty look at Buffy, “Well…not really me…it was more Miss Calendar…I just kinda accidentally found it…”

        “Wills, less babble, more sense,” Buffy teased, frowning slightly when Willow twisted her hands in her lap, looking worried.

        “I…uh…it's a soul restoration spell…” Willow told her, her voice going small, “It's the same one Miss Calendar's clan originally used to curse him…we…we can give Angel back his soul…”

        “What?” Buffy breathed, feeling as if all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out, leaving her in an airless vacuum, “You…you can bring back Angel?”

        Everyone in the library jumped when a sudden howl rent the air, and Giles scrambled for his crossbow as several bookcases fell over. Buffy's entire body went rigid when she felt a familiar presence tingling at the back of her neck. There was the crashing sound of a door being slammed at the back of the stacks, and Giles swung around with his crossbow, staring up at the fallen cases in confusion, “What in the name of God was that?”

        “I…I gotta go,” Buffy grabbed a few stakes off the counter and shoved them into her jacket pocket, not looking at the rest of her friends as she scurried for the library doors. “Pa-patrol…”

        “Buffy!” Giles called vainly after his fleeing Slayer, and he looked at the rest of the group, a bewildered and worried look on his face, “What in the world was that all about?”

        Willow quickly got over her shock, her mind already putting together what had happened, and she snorted loudly, blushing when everybody looked over at her, “I'd say she was taking off to kill whatever beastie knocked over the books,” Willow told Giles, then wrinkled her nose as she looked at the mess in the library, “But…she only runs that fast when she's trying to get out of work.”

        “Aw…” Giles grimaced himself when he thought of all the alphabetizing he would have to do, but then he sent an evil grin over at the three remaining teens. “None of you are busy tonight, are you?”

        Stupid, stupid vampire…Buffy gritted her teeth together as she prowled the streets of Sunnydale, hoping to find the blond eavesdropper before he did something stupid. Say…like eavesdropping on a top secret Scooby meeting? Oh, right…little late for that.

        Her ears were still ringing from that howl he had let loose; God…she had never heard such a heart-breaking sound…it was the noise of an animal in incredible pain.

        Great…just…great…look at the fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Buff, The Slayer thought dismally, chewing on her lip anxiously. She tried to sort out the feelings that were churning inside her. Between the relief and hope that Angel would be restored to her, there was also the fact that Spike had seemed to be torn apart by it, if that howl in the library and the rage he had let loose on the bookcases had been any indication; she was fairly sure it was.

        Ego-much, Buffy? She thought, shaking her head slightly, it was only one night of sex and stuff…doesn't mean a thing…he's probably bragging to all his vamp friends about getting the Slayer to spread her legs for him…

        She sighed heavily, definitely not buying it. So, he and she had gotten busy the night before…but they both had been fantasying about the other for awhile now…but that didn't mean he loved her, right? And it certainly didn't mean that she loved him. It was just sex…really, really incredible sex…and the way he had looked at her…that sweet, tender look that made her insides melt…

        Buffy groaned, covering her face with her hands, wondering what she was going to do. She liked Spike…a lot…didn't love him, definitely didn't love him…but given half the chance, she probably would…

        He's a soulless killer, Buffy…this is way beyond Angel…at least Angel had a soul…

        Which you fucked right out of him, Buffers, the other side of her mind argued, one with a nasty tone of voice, You can fuck Spike all you want and not worry about him going evil, since…already evil. You're way to strong for human boys…all you have is your vampires…one you can fuck till you're both sweaty and covered in cum, the other you can only cast longing glances at from across the room…which would you prefer?

        “Shut up, mind,” Buffy muttered to herself, trying to forget the fact that despite Spike having the upper hand on her several times that day, never once had he tried to harm or kill her. Sure, he had bitten her, but that was heat of the moment thing, and he hadn't taken any of her blood, really. If Angelus had been in the position Spike had been, she knew he wouldn't have hesitated to drain her while he fucked her into the mattress and either killed her or turned her.

        That brought up another question. How come Spike was able to be tender and sweet, even though he had way more reason to want her dead, while Angel hated her guts and wanted nothing but to see her broken into a weeping mess before he killed her? It was her fault that Angelus was around to steal Drusilla away from Spike, and she had been the one who had put him in the wheelchair, keeping him from being able to challenge Angel and take back what was his…and Angel? Hell…he should be sending her flowers and a fruit basket for setting his soul loose. But nooo…all she got was him killing her best friend's fish and her Watcher's girlfriend.

        There's another thing…Spike never went after my friends…except that time at the school. He's never attacked them since then; he at least keeps it personal, between him and me…

        Buffy lifted her head when she heard a police siren up ahead, and she started to jog towards it. She raised an eyebrow when she saw a cop car outside the liquor store, which had its picture window shattered. She joined the small group of rubber-neckers, moving closer towards the store, where the shopkeeper was waving his arms and telling the police man what he had seen.

        When she heard the words blonde, black jacket and headed south, she shook her head, figuring out finally where Spike could be. He was headed towards the factory district, and what better place to get stewed then in the burned out remains of your former home? Before she could question her sanity, Buffy was trotting in the direction on the factory, a grim look on her face.

        “Shtupid shoddin' bint…” Spike slurred drunkenly as he sprawled in the burned wreckage of the factory. It took an incredible amount of juice to get a vampire as drunk as Spike was, but he had been hiding out for an hour, and had managed to drink five bottles of whisky from the box he had liberated from the liquor store. Coupled with the fact that he hadn't eaten anything that day, except for a bit of a nibble from the Slayer's neck in the shower, he was one sauced vampire.

        He knew he shouldn't have gone to the library…but he couldn't help it. He knew about the door in the back of the stacks, courtesy of Angelus, and it wasn't the first time he had snuck in there since he had gotten his legs back. He loved watching the Slayer with her friends; laughing, tossing her hair, sometimes falling asleep on a pile of books while her friends researched…bit of drool hanging off the corner of her delectable lips.

        He had sneaked in the back just before she had walked in, and he practically purred when he saw the smile on her face, the genuine, sweet smile, and not the forced one she wore more recently. He basked in the knowledge that he was the one that put it on her face; not her clueless friends and not that poofy-haired prat. It was him.

        Then Willow had said that she could restore Angel's soul and he had seen her face flash with hope.

        His heart had shattered in his chest, and he was unable to prevent the howl that flew from his lips and from somewhere deep inside him. He had then punched the bookcase in front of him, causing it to fall forward into the others. He had escaped from there before he could be spotted, and he highly doubted the Slayer would figure out it was him who had been there.

        It was that exact moment, when Willow stammered out that she could restore Angel, that he knew that he was deeply and hopelessly in love with that bitch, Buffy Summers.

        He snorted. The damned cow was probably already doing the soul restoration spell and was all ready to throw herself into the poof's arms and declare her undying love for him.

        “Sphikey…yer one pathetic shod…” He muttered to himself, “Keep fallin' for th' blashted women who lovesh the poof…bashtard…”

        He took a swig of his whisky, the amber liquid dripping out of his lips and down his throat, soaking his shirt. He was drunk enough that he didn't sense Buffy's presence before she was standing right in front of him, and he lowered the bottle from his lips, scowling at her leather-clad legs.

        “Go `way,” He demanded, not looking up into her face, not wanting to see her gloating triumph at turning an once powerful Master Vampire into the mess before her. “Don' wan' you `ere…”

        “Spike…”

        “GO `WAY!” Spike roared, baring his teeth at her and attempting to vamp out. However, he was completely and utterly stewed, and his face only rippled slightly before falling back into his human planes. He wondered if he heaved on her shoes, would she go away then? It would probably be worth the look on her face to find out, but, sadly, he was ill-equipped in the vomiting department. Damned Vampire physiology…only thing good about it was the advanced hearing, scent, eyesight…stamina, eternal youth and immortality…and really great skin, even if it was pale…okay, so, aside from the raging blood-lust that he sometimes got and the vomiting on command issues, it was pretty damn great being a vampire.

        He hooked his fingers and `grrr'ed at Buffy, hoping to frighten her off. All that got was a snort from Buffy, and his brain saying `who the hell do you think you're kidding? I'll come back when you're done stewing yourself like a damned tomato, you sot.'

        Spike merely shrugged at his brain's abandonment, and closed his eyes, deciding that the summer re-run of he and Buffy shagging like wild animals in the shower was worth a second viewing.

        Buffy pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous image he was making. He had stopped growling at her, but now he was purring, mumbling her name, a goofy grin on his face, eyes closed. Whatever he was thinking about involved her, and he as apparently enjoying it, judging by the bulge tenting his pants. His eyes opened a slit, and he looked up at her, grinning lewdly.

        Okay…great…bad enough he was pissed off and drunk, but now he was horny, and eyeing her like she'd eye a piece of cheesecake when she was doing the diet thing.

        “Spike, come on, get your drunk ass off the floor,” Buffy ordered, reaching down to haul him to his feet. Either his balance was off due to the incredible amount of liquor that had to be sloshing around in his stomach, or he purposely threw his weight into her. Either way, they both ended up on the ground, with Spike's head in her breasts. Of course, being the drunk, randy vampire he was, he immediately nuzzled his face into them and began to purr again like a tabby cat. Granted, a very large and heavy tabby cat that was crushing her small frame, and making it hard for her to breath.

        “Spike…get off…” Buffy closed her eyes as his tongue darted out to lick slowly along the side of her breast, “Spike, I mean it!”

        “Get off in a minnit…” Spike giggled (giggled?! Spike giggles!), “Gotta get you off firsht…”

        “That's very considerate, Spike…but I meant get off of me.” She shoved on his shoulders, and with a heavy, beleaguered sigh, Spike hefted his weight to the side so that he was sprawled on his back on the floor.

        “Fine…I see `ow it ish,” He squinted at her with a growl, “Gonna get the poof back, so's you don' need ole Shpike no more…s'ow it always worksh…” He rolled over onto his hands and knees, “No vamp ish an island, you know!” He pumped his fist in the air, “Asch God ish my witnesch, I schall never go `ungry again!”

        “All right, Scarlet,” Buffy climbed to her feet and pulled Spike to his, “Let's walk it off.”

        “Don' wanna,” He jutted out his bottom lip petulantly, but he didn't offer any real resistance as Buffy led him out of the warehouse. “Why can't ya jusch leave me `lone?” He complained, “ I wasch fine, by meself, y'know!”

        “Yeah, sure,” Buffy replied half-heartedly, not really in the mood to start an argument with him. Normally, she didn't mind having an argument with Spike, but it'd be pretty useless at this point, since he was drunk and not susceptible to things like common sense and logic. Besides, he seemed so much more interested in trying to peer down her blouse; he wasn't even attempting to be non-obvious about it either. He was actually pulling her shirt away from her body, and if she hadn't been holding on to his arm so tightly, he'd undoubtedly be trying to stick his head down there. She slapped his hand away with a sigh.

        He pouted again, and turned his attention to his feet, which he was having trouble putting one in front of the other. “Someone `eaved on m'shoes…” He mumbled, squinting, “Gross…”

        I'm not going to look, I'm not going to look…Buffy thought, crinkling her nose in disgust. “That's…nice, Spike…”

        “Think I don' know what you're doin'?” Spike lifted his head, pinning her with a glare, “Don' you pat-patrozize-pantinize…” Spike scowled as he struggled to pronounce that word. “…'umor me…not a child, y'know…” He suddenly grinned lewdly, “But you know that firsht `and…” He leered as he cupped his crotch and shook it at her.

        Buffy closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath and counting to ten in her head. The urge to punch him in the head repeatedly was almost overwhelming, and only the fact that he was drunk was keeping her from doing so. That…and the fact he was now purring like a great cat, and even plastered, he was potently adorable.

        God…why was her life so fucked up lately?

        Even with Spike rubbing and pressing all up against her, and making grabs for her breasts and trying to slid his hand down her pants, they managed to make it to Revello Drive without any further incidents.

        Except Willow was standing on the front porch, arms crossed over her chest.

        “Utoh…” Buffy sighed as she elbowed Spike sharply in the side, and he let out a whimpering whine as he staggered, and then tripped over his own feet.

        “Schlayeeeeeeerrrrrrrr!” Spike griped, “Y'made me fall!” He pouted again, and Buffy took another deep breath. He had to stop doing that…it was really distracting her, with his lips all lush and full looking, ready to be kissed…

        “If you weren't drunk, you wouldn't have fallen,” Buffy pointed out, shaking her head to clear her bad, naughty thoughts away and she jerked him to his feet, “In the house. Now.”

        “Don' wanna,” Spike whined loudly, but obeyed, despite himself.

        “Whew…” Willow fanned her hand in front of her face as Spike came near her, “Did he just bath in the brewery downtown?”

        “There's a brewery downtown?!” Spike looked at Willow as if she had just divulged the secret of life, as well as announced that he had won an unlifetime supply of nubile virgins to do with whatever he wished. “Right! Be scheein' you…” He turned on his heel, but both Buffy and Willow grabbed an elbow and hauled him back onto the porch.

        “I don't think so, buddy,” Buffy removed her house keys from pocket and unlocked the door.

        “But…but…there's a brewery!” Spike was really starting to sound like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, “They `ave vats there. Vats filled wit' beer! Lotsa beer! American be--” He suddenly made a face, “Never mind.”

        Willow shot a confused look at Buffy as Spike grumbled unintelligible beneath his breath as he staggered towards the kitchen, still pretty drunk. “Umm…is he going to be okay?”

        “Maybe after we pump some coffee directly into his bloodstream,” Buffy smiled grimly, “It's going to suck to be him when he starts sobering up.”

        “Ohhh…that's not going to be pretty,” Willow said sympathetically, and then frowned when she heard Spike opening and closing cabinets. “What is he doing now?”

        “Crap…my mom has cooking brandy,” Buffy headed into the kitchen in time to grab the brandy out of Spike's hand, despite his pitiful countenance, “I don't think so, Spike…my mom measures all the liquor before she leaves the house…”

        “But I'm thirshty,” He complained, and Buffy rolled her eyes as she forced him to sit down on one of the kitchen stools and put a pot of coffee on to brew.

        “Vamps don't get thirsty, they get hungry,” Buffy scoffed, heading towards the fridge to grab a blood packet.

        “I didn't know vamps could get drunk,” Willow said in some amazement, and Spike peered at her through bleary, bloodshot eyes as she eyed him like a science fair experiment. “Anyway, was he the one freaking out in the back of the library?”

        “NO!”

        “Yes,” Buffy glared at Spike over his vehement denial, and Spike grumbled as she sat the warmed blood in front of him, “Dumbass here knocked over a liquor store and decided to get drunk in the old factory. He's lucky Angel didn't run across him in the sorry state he was in. He wouldn't have been able to put up much of a fight. Angel kicked his ass before when he was pretty much at 100%.”

        “Wasnh't!” Spike denied, glaring at Buffy, “M'legsh schtill `urt.”

        “Whatever,” Buffy waved her hand dismissively, and then made a face when he poured his blood into his coffee, “Okay…that's just gross!”

        Spike stuck his tongue out at her before downing the mixed drink, and Willow wrinkled her nose before turning back to Buffy,  “So…um…about the…thing…we're going to do….when do you think we should do it?”

        Spike narrowed his eyes at Willow, “Drunk…not schtupid, you silly twit…know wot you're talkin' `bout…” He glanced at Buffy pitifully, “Tell `er never!”

        “I guess whenever you guys are ready,” Buffy told Willow, not meeting Spike's somewhat disgusted gaze. “We should probably do it before he has a chance to figure out how to suck the world into Hell.”

        “Already in `ell…” Spike mumbled, but was mostly ignored by the two girls.

        “Well…the Magic Shoppe is closed tomorrow, so, I can't get all my supplies till Monday. I'd say by Tuesday, after school, we'd be able to do it. I'm going to need Monday night to prepare some of the ingredients.”

        “Okay…great…” Buffy chewed on her bottom lip, “I guess tomorrow I should start doing some reconnaissance at the factory, figure out how many minions he's got, what kind of security he has…”

        “Not alone, right?” Willow asked worriedly.

        “I'll take Spike with me…if he's sober by then,” Buffy glanced at the vampire, nearly sighing when she saw he was leaning back in his seat in an attempt to stare at her butt. “Stop that.”

        He blatantly ignored and Buffy looked at Willow with a roll of her eyes, “We better wait till after Snyder's gone home,” She said, “The little troll is dying to expel me, and I think performing Romanian rituals on school grounds is not going to look good on my school record.”

        “Gotcha,” Willow offered her a warm but sympathetic smile, wishing she could get a chance to talk to Buffy alone before the ritual took place. She was entirely curious to find out what Buffy was feeling about Angel coming back…and what that would mean with Spike. It looked like they were in a relationship, especially judging Spike's reaction to the news that Angel was getting his soul again, they were some feelings involved. If not exactly love, then at least mutual respect or something of the sort. Is she going to dump Spike the second Angel comes back? And if she does…how is he going to react? God…I hope we don't get rid of one psychotic vampire lover just to spawn a new one…

        “Wills!” Willow jerked back to attention to see Buffy looking at her with a concerned frown, “You all right?”

        “Fine…sorry…just doing a mental checklist for all the things I need for the spell,” Willow lied, “Listen…tomorrow, you want to get together for lunch or something? My treat.”

        “Yeah, sure…” Buffy grimaced as Spike let out a loud belch and started giggling, “He'll probably be sleeping this off all day tomorrow.”

        “Great…I'll see you then,” Willow said, giving Buffy a brief but tight hug, and waving at Spike, “Um…hope you feel better,” She said before heading out.

        The second the front door closed, Spike pounced, wrapping his arms around Buffy's waist and lifting her up onto the island with a loud growl. “Sp-IKE!” Buffy squealed as he tore her expensive blouse down the middle, exposing her breasts which were bound in a pink, lacy bra.

        She watched in amazement as he undid the front clasp with his teeth and tongue; it was pretty damn impressive…especially considering he was still drunk as a skunk. When the clasp was undone, Spike shoved the blouse and bra down her arms, leaving her upper body exposed and entirely at his mercy.

        He wrapped one of his arms around her waist, and bent her backwards over the counter, lavishing her pebbled nipples with rough attention. He clamped his teeth around the hard, rosy bud, drawing blood as Buffy let out a sharp moan.

        Buffy started to sit up, but he slammed her back into the counter, nearly knocking the wind out of her. She lifted her head up slightly as Spike yanked his duster and t-shirt over his head, the gel-infused locks standing on end. She would have giggled at the mess, but with the feral glow in his eyes, it made him look absolutely wild…untamed…dangerous…and he was crawling up on the counter and over her.

        Buffy was aware that she should probably be fighting him; he was drunk, probably not in full control of his facilities, and one of her breasts was already stained crimson with her own blood.

        Buffy inhaled sharply when Spike suddenly dropped down over her, his tongue plunging into her bellybutton, and then ran it along her skin till he was between her breasts. She reached up, trying to guide his head to her breasts, but he jerked free of her grasp and moved upwards till they were nose-to-nose, his eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you think, I'm giving this up to him, you're wrong,” He snarled at her.

        Before Buffy could even reply to that, Spike crushed his lips to her, savaging them brutally. Buffy brought up her hands to either shove at him, or yank him closer, even she wasn't sure, but Spike grabbed her wrists and forced them over her head with one hand, while the other worked at the fastenings of her pants.

        He was the one to finally break the kiss, and Buffy ran her tongue over her lips, tasting copper from where his fangs had cut them, noticing for the first time that he had vamped out. He glared up at her with his glittering, amber eyes, and obeying his silent command, she didn't move.

        She worked at catching her breath as she watched Spike strip her of the last of her barriers, tossing them aside, and he started to work on his own belt and jeans as he watched her carefully. She shifted a tiny bit, but lay still again when he growled in reprimand. She shuddered with barely suppressed pleasure at the look in his eyes. She was also a little bit horrified at her reaction to the vampire. This was vastly different then before, when he had been tender…and sweet…and gentle…but now there was none of that about him. Now, she couldn't even tell if he wanted to just fuck her…or eat her…or possibly even both.

        And she was so damned aroused by it, she could barely breathe.

        Spike stepped out of his jeans, his eyes never having left Buffy the entire while, and he was focused entirely on her with a predator's intensity. He could hear the blood rushing through her veins, the rapid cadence of her heartbeat, but none of that lured him more then scent that emanated from between her slick thighs.  

        They were legends about the arousal of a Slayer, that it's mere scent could draw even the most cowardly of demons from hiding, it was so irresistible. From experience, he could say that the legends were all true. If she were caged, he would batter himself to pieces against the bars to get at her delicious cunny. It probably even had curative properties, since he felt more sober then he ever been in his entire unlife.

        He walked towards her slowly, his eyes never leaving her prostrate body, hiding a knowing smirk when he heard her heartbeat speed up.

        Sweat was already beading along her body from all the effort it took her not to move. She wanted nothing more then to slide her hand between her legs, and dull the throbbing ache in her groin; she was nearly going insane from the strain, and she wanted to scream and curse at him, beg him, do anything to get him to touch her. However, she was terrified; if she moved even an inch, or tried to say anything, he probably punish her even more.

        He took her breath away,  with the speed he moved. One second, he was leering at her, the next, his head was between her thighs, his hands lifting her hips to his mouth.

        Buffy cried out, trying not to thrash, but failing miserably as Spike curled his tongue inside of her. “Oh God…Spike…” Buffy gasped as he let go of one of her hips and used his fingers to probe deep inside her, his tongue finding her clit and pressing against it. Buffy lifted her leg and wrapped it around his back, pulling him even closer.

        However, he shook her loose, and she nearly screamed in frustration as Spike pulled away from her. However, seconds later, she was screaming for an entirely different reason as he pulled her to the edge of the countertop and plunged inside her, straining to get as deep as he possibly could.

        “Spike, Spike, SpikeSpikeSpikeSpike…” Buffy sobbed his name over and over, urging him on, wanting him deeper, harder, faster, all at the same time. It all merged together in an incoherent babble that in no way resembled an earth language, but Spike was making a game effort of deciphering it, as he did it all.

        Spike's eyes were squeezed shut as he fucked her for all he was worth, feeling the need to sob himself; she was so damned wet that he slid in like a dream, but so tight that when he tried to withdrawal, she grasped him so hard, it felt like his prick would be severed at the root. It was no wonder that Angel had lost his soul, after having been inside Buffy Summers.

        At the mere thought of his Sire,  Spike's eyes snapped open and with a roar, he grasped Buffy's legs, and pulled her upright. He upset his balance, however, and fell back towards the floor, Buffy still wrapped around him, and she gasped, eyes widening as the fall forced him even deeper inside her. She was shuddering, ready to break apart at any second and Spike fisted his hand in her hair, yanking her head to the side. His bite marks from earlier were already fading away, and he bared his fangs preparing to break the most sacred of vampire commandments.

        “MINE!” He snarled, before sheathing his fangs in Buffy's throat, right over the older marks, and Buffy screamed, a high-pitched noise that caused the neighbor's dog to start howling in accompaniment. Spike slammed up into her two more times before his own climax overtook him, fireworks bursting beneath his eyelids.

        Buffy fell limply against him, even as her soft, inner muscles milked him of the last of his semen, and he dropped his head against her shoulder, gently bathing the marks on her throat. These, unlike the others, would not be fading away, even with Slayer healing.

        Buffy groaned softly as she tried to move, but gave up almost immediately, deciding that slumping against Spike was the better idea. “Ow…I think you broke me…” She mumbled, sighing softy as Spike continued his tongue-bath. His cool tongue felt so very good against her hot skin, she didn't even begin to think of protesting against it. Although, strangely enough, it felt like static electricity was building up beneath her skin, precisely where he was licking.

        Spike finally decided her throat had enough attention, and lifted his head, wincing as his neck cracked. The fall onto the floor did more then just bruise his backside…it had also jarred his legs something fierce. They were pretty much healed, but his weight, combined with Buffy's, was enough to give them a good bang that would probably be an achy pain in the ass for days.

        However, as he looked down with some pride at the marks adorning Buffy's throat, the pain was forgotten. He had done it…he had actually, friggin' done it…he had stolen Angelus' own mate right from beneath his bloody nose…took her for his own.

        I am so very dead, he thought, but couldn't help the grin that crossed his face as he felt himself hardening within his new mate, eliciting a surprised gasp from her. But shit…he groaned as Buffy lifted her head with a coy smile and started to ride him slowly, her muscles squeezing him with all her strength, Think I can die a happy demon after all…

TBC

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