"Isss all her fault, y'know."

"Sure, yeah."

"Stupid bitch, has to be all cute an' witty. Makes me all tingly. Makes me all fuzzy...fuzzy wuzzy...fuzzy wuzzy wasa Spike."

"I don't think that's how that goes. Isn't it fuzzy wuzzy was a woman?"

Spike slammed back his drink, then grabbed Willy by the front of his shirt and dragged him half across the bar. "If I wanna be fuzzy wuzzy, I can be fuzzy wuzzy!"

"Sure, Lord Spike, whatever you say. You're the guy, the man, the king."

Spike let the little man go, sending him falling back into the cash register, then reached for the half-full bottle of scotch, drinking straight from it. Calming down, he stared blearily at the bar top. After a few minutes a fly flew into a small puddle of scotch. "Would a fly without wings be called a walk?" he muttered to himself as he extended one evil looking claw and stabbed at the fly. Missing, he jammed his claw into the wood of the bar. "Fuck!"

Pulling his finger free, he tried to follow the flight of the fly, jabbing into the air with both his pointer fingers.

Willy cracked a fly swatter down on the bar, smashing the fly.

"That was mine," Spike protested, his demon retreating as his target was destroyed.

"Oh, sorry. I'm sure there will be more," Willy said in a conciliatory voice.

"Hell hole," Spike muttered, taking another drink. "Why am I back in Sunnyhell?"

"Um...yeah, I was kind of wondering that myself." Willy made sure to stay out of Spike's reach as the vampire growled softly.

"Obsession, Willy, it's a horrible thing. Makes you all stupid. Makes you do stupid things that'll get your liver torn out for your trouble. An' your spleen, kidneys, heart...ummm, hungry..."

"I got a couple newly dead dogs in the back. One's a poodle."

Spike chuckled, suddenly amused. "Poodle, the other white meat."

"Yeah, sure. You want one."

"Do I look like a vamp who eats puppies?" Spike asked, indignantly. "I'll just go fetch me a stupid teenager. There all so stupid." He stood up, then promptly collapsed into a sodden heap on the floor.

All the patrons of the bar, mortal, vampire and demon, watched carefully, none of them daring to try to help. One never knew what Spike might do when he was drunk...or sober, for that matter.

"Who the fuck has been drawing pink flowers and shit on the floor?"

"Oh...um...my niece," Willy said. "She's five. Has an obsession with the color pink."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that colored chalk is manufactured by Lucifer himself?" Spike yelled from his prone position. "Yeah, it's a tool for perverting the kiddies. Turns 'em into graffiti drawing gangbangerers. Gimme the chalk."

Willy carefully placed a box of chalk next to Spike's head. Drooling onto the picture of a bunny or a cat, Spike wasn't quite sure, the vampire pulled out the piece of blue chalk and started drawing huge penises on the animals.

"Humongous dicks," he suddenly blubbered. "She liked my humongous dick, she really did. I could tell she did. But, she's bad, a bad, bad girl. Can't do her again. Nope, would be bad. She'd kill me. Everybody'd kill me. Would be of the bad." His blubbering turned to giggles as his speech degenerated into that of a teenager.

"Um, Lord Spike? That's a heart, not a dick."

Spike growled as he tried to spell his name, his hand shaking as he wrote inside the heart. "I know that, you friggin' idiot." He dropped the chalk and staggered to his feet, swaying. "See, tool of the devil. Makes you draw stupid things." Grabbing the bottle, he stumbled towards the door. "Put it on m'tab."

"You don't have a tab," Willy muttered, mentally writing off the four bottles of scotch Spike had downed. Luckily he had been able to substitute the really cheap stuff after the first bottle.

The cool night air hit Spike in the face, but did nothing to sober him up. Staggering down the street, taking occasional pulls on the bottle, he began to sing. "Stroke me, stroke me..."

"How about I stake you, instead," a cheerful voice interrupted his really bad singing.

"Shlayer, just the bitch I was looking for." He opened his arms wide, then collapsed back against the wall of the alley.

Cocking one eyebrow, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and ran her eyes over him, trying to ignore the tingling heat that was forming in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't seen him in nearly two weeks, since that night at the gallery.

That night that she relived every night in fevered dreams, waking up trembling and sweating, her panties soaked with lust...

Mentally shaking away the unwanted images, Buffy ground her teeth together and pulled a stake from the waistband of her skirt, determined to do her duty and put him out of her mind and dreams forever.

Spike blinked his eyes, trying to see less than three of her, and held out the bottle. "Wanna a drink?"

"Not particularly."

"Wanna fuck?"

Buffy turned bright red and her hand fell to her side as lust rushed through her. "NO," she proclaimed just a little loudly and desperately.

Hearing the tone of her voice, Spike gave her a sloppy grin and took another drink. "Yep. You do."

"It was a mistake, a stupid mistake. An accident, never to be repeated, got that?"

"Who ya trying to convince, Shlayer, me or you or the other you or that third you that keeps disappearing and coming back?"

"Why me?" Buffy asked the heavens plaintively. "Why do I get the drunk, lusty vampires?"

"Had any more than me?" Spike asked, curious. "'Cuz I'll have to rip off their dicks and make 'em eat 'em for touching my woman."

"I'm not your woman," Buffy yelled, indignantly, stomping her foot in emphasis. "You're a drunken pig."

"Better 'en being a little, white, wooly sheep like you. All fuzzy and soft and I wanna kiss you all over and lick your little white tail..."

Buffy blushed even more, then shrieked as a cold rain suddenly pounded down on them, soaking them within seconds. "Why me, God? What did I ever do to you?"

"Now you're a wet little sheep," Spike laughed, batting feebly at the rain on his face. "All three of you. It would be really decent of you if you'd shrink into one. Why don't sheep shrink in the rain?"

"Huh?" Buffy gave him a baffled look, giving up on trying to stay dry.

"Wool shrinks. Isn't shrink a funny word? Shrinky dink..."

"Okkkkay. Um, Spike, why don't you go somewhere and sleep it off."

He grinned wolfishly at her and took another slug of whiskey. "Izat an invitation, sheep? Gonna let me sleep on you?"

"Um...no." Buffy silently cursed her body which was growing even hotter from the looks he was giving her, despite the rain.

Pushing himself off the wall, Spike dropped the now empty bottle and gave its satisfying crashing sound a big grin, then lurched at Buffy. She backed up instinctively and found herself trapped between the wall and his very wet body. Both were very hard.

"Shlayer," he murmured, running one hand over her face. "They'll kill me for this..."

"Huh? Kill? Who?"

"There are only really two sins a vamp can commit. Kill their sire, screw the Shlayer. Tried one, did the other." Before she could answer, he captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. Buffy tasted whiskey and Spike, opening her mouth as desire pounded through her. She couldn't believe how easily he could arouse her.

As he pressed her against the building, Buffy felt his erection against her stomach and gasped, pulling back. Spike's mouth fell on her throat, nudging the collar of her shirt farther open.

"I though alcohol impaired um certain parts of guys," she panted, her hands gripping his leather clad shoulders.

"Not a guy," he mumbled, nipping at her pulse points before sucking her ear lobe into his mouth. His hands slid down her body and cupped her ass, lifting her against his denim-clad cock. They both groaned and clutched each other tighter.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightening split the sky, followed less than a second by a huge crack of thunder.

"Motel," Spike muttered between kisses. "Down...the... street...now..."

Shutting down her mind and all its many objections, Buffy dragged him down the alley.

Five minutes later Spike shoved her into a dingy motel room, slamming the door behind them. Hitting the light switch, he dragged her into his arms and kissed her passionately. Buffy responded helplessly, tugging him backwards towards the bed.

Sopping wet, they fell onto the lumpy mattress, their mouths glued together. Spike raised up enough to jerk off his jacket, then kicked off his shoes. Buffy's cold-numbed fingers found the buttons on his shirt and she tried to force them open, finally just ripping his shirt down the front.

"Bitch," he growled against her mouth, catching the front of her flimsy blouse and tearing it open.

Ignoring him, Buffy tugged and pulled at his shirt until it came off, then ran her hands over his back, scraping him with her fingernails. Spike buried his mouth between her breasts, lapping at the lace-covered mounds until she squirmed beneath him. One strong leg wrapped around his hips and she arched against him.

Rising reluctantly to his knees, his head swimming with liquor and lust, Spike shoved her back farther on the bed, spreading her legs and settling between them. Shoving her skirt up, he ripped her panties away and lowered his mouth to her hot pussy.

Buffy gasped and jerked at the touch of his tongue on her throbbing clit. He began to suck her sensitive flesh and she squirmed in pleasure, digging her fingers into the damp bedding. Her knees arched, her feet beating on the mattress as he ruthlessly built her lust, his tongue dancing along her wet cleft, his teeth scraping the swollen flesh.

Mindless with need, she pulled open the front clasp of her bra and kneaded her breasts, pulling on the nipples until they hardened.

As her hips began to pump against his mouth, Spike lifted his head and gave her a sappy grin. She whimpered in outrage and reached for his head, but he eluded her, staggering to his feet. Jerking his jeans down to his ankles, he collapsed back on top of her, his cock pressing against her hot cleft.

"Please," she begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and dragging his mouth back to hers. As they kissed, Buffy felt him grab her knees and press them up towards her shoulders, spreading her legs wider. Her limber body easily slid into the position, opening her completely.

Undulating his hips, he drove them both insane as his cock butted her clit and her breasts rubbed against his chest. Spike could feel her heart pounding beneath his cold body, heard her breathy sobs of pleasure as she trailed kisses across his cheek.

With a grunt of pleasure, he slid his cock into her tight heat, his eyes rolling back as her muscles clamped down. Sheathed fully inside her, his balls rubbing against her upturned ass, he gritted his teeth and held still. Slowly her muscles began to flutter against his cock, caressing and teasing his throbbing flesh.

Buffy's hands ran up and down his back, silently urging him to continue as her body screamed for release. As he pulled back and thrust hard, slamming their bodies together, her mouth fell open and her head arched back, her hips rising to meet his as her climax lashed through her.

Mewling in release, her body trembling, Buffy clutched his ass, driving him as deeply as he could go, rubbing her overstimulated clit against the base of his cock.

Holding her spread open, Spike thrust quickly, his body demanding to join hers in release. Leaning down, he captured one pert nipple between his teeth and bit gently, making her whimper and thrash in renewed desire. Buffy's fingers laced through his short hair, holding his head to her breast as her hips began to rise and fall with his.

Releasing her legs, Spike rolled them, bringing Buffy over him and pushing her up onto her knees. Panting harshly, she dug her fingers into his shoulders and leaned forward, impaling herself on his cock and whimpering as he stretched her in new and pleasurable ways.

Spike's head swam and he closed his eyes, his hand sliding down her stomach to the wet flesh between her legs. Manipulating her clit, he listened to her cries of pleasure and groaned as her pussy clamped around his cock again. As he brought her to her second orgasm and felt her shuddering around him, he let himself go, pumping his cock up into her as he filled her with his cold semen.

Buffy's arms gave out and she fell forward on him, her head sliding comfortably into the crook of his neck. Lazily, she licked his throat, eliciting a rumbling sound from him. Intrigued, she nipped his cold, damp flesh and the sound grew louder.

Spike was purring!

Stifling her giggles, Buffy let herself relax, feeling his hands moving slowly over her back and bottom as they lay together quietly except for his purring.

Peeking up at him, she saw that his eyes were closed and wondered if he was asleep.

She wondered if he knew he purred after sex.

She wondered if it was common for vampires to purr after sex...

Buffy was awakened by a muffled curse and a groan of pain. Blinking her eyes, she found herself half on top of a naked Spike. She was still half clothed and the material was still damp, so she guessed she hadn't slept for long. Making a face at how wet and nasty she felt, Buffy moved off him, ignoring his wincing and muttered complaints.

Pulling off the remains of her clothes, Buffy stalked into the bathroom, refusing to think about what she had done or about the moaning vampire in the bed.

Somewhat refreshed from a hot shower, Buffy gingerly walked across the cigarette burned, stained carpet wrapped in a skimpy, but clean looking towel. Spike had managed to strip off his jeans and was sitting on the end of the bed, naked, his head in his hands, groaning, naked.

"Kill me now," he muttered, not looking at her.

"Hangover?" she asked, totally devoid of all sympathy.

"My head's about to split open."

"Poor baby." Picking up her damp shirt, she made a face at the ripped front. "Great, I don't think this towel goes with my skirt." Kneeling on the bed, she dug beneath the pillows for her bra and put it on, flinching at the dampness. If she didn't catch pneumonia from this night, she'd count herself lucky. As she dropped the towel and put it on, along with her rather icky panties, she looked at his back and saw something new. "When did you get a tattoo?"

It was high on his shoulder blade and small. Buffy peered closer just as he twisted around and whimpered at the pain. Buffy gasped. It was a little heart with 'slayer' in the middle. She wapped him on the back of the head. "Are you insane!?"

"Ow! Stop hitting me." He turned to face her, his bleary eyes finally seeing only one of her and this one, dressed only in a skimpy bra and panties, looked pissed. "Um..."

"You have my NAME tattooed on your back."

"It's...it's customary to tattoo your enemy's name on your body," he blustered.

"Feeble, Spike, incredibly feeble." Scrambling off the bed, Buffy yanked her skirt on and managed somehow to make her blouse semi-presentable by tying it at her waist. As she looked for her shoes, he seemed finally to realize that she was getting dressed.

"Where are you going?"

Buffy jammed her feet into her wet shoes. "Home. It's," she glanced at the cheap clock radio, "shit, 2:18, my mom's going to shit."

Giving up on stopping her without even trying, Spike picked up the remote control and turned on the television. Every channel was scrambled--pay per view porn--except for one. The weather channel. There was that stupid commercial with the talking deer watching the car drive past.

"How do they get the deer to cross at that yellow road sign?"

Buffy just stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

"What?" he asked, defensively.

"You are the strangest person I have ever met."

Spike gave her a cocky grin. "But, you like me."

With a loud huff, Buffy stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"Oh yeah, she likes me," he sighed softly, then winced and rubbed his sore head.

 

The End

 

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