Awards won Here.

Chapter 1

“I only care that he’s not here, and I got this nifty souvenir,” Buffy told her friends. Turning, she placed the troll’s huge axe on the glass countertop then watched, shocked, as the weight of the object shattered the case, crashing down into the items displayed inside. “Ooops.”

“The place is trashed enough anyways,” Xander told her.

“Well, see how well things worked out,” she nodded her head towards where he stood next to his girlfriend, Anya – the two cuddling close together. “And, look at you guys. So good and alive and together.” Unshed tears started forming in the Slayer’s eyes as she spoke, much to the amazement of her friends; it took a lot to make their friend cry.

“So together, and…good, and…alive,” Buffy babbled on. She snagged a tissue and continued to ramble. “Oh god…I’m just so happy for you guys…”

The Scoobies watched as the Slayer broke down in front of them.

“Oh, Buffy, it’s ok. See? And, it’s not like we can’t clean this up. Giles will never know,” Willow spoke as she wrapped an arm around her friend’s back in comfort – awkwardly patting her back. She shot a look over her shoulder for some help.

“Speaking of…” Xander interjected, ignoring the pain in his wrist for the moment. Stifling Buffy's tears took top priority at the moment. “Maybe we should see how the Bronze is holding up.”

“Xander’s right,” Willow replied, latching onto the change in topic with both hands. “We did just kinda leave.”

Together, the small group ushered out of the magic shop to make their way towards the Bronze. Outside, the friends split up; Anya and Xander turned left to get his wrist looked at first, telling the others they would meet them there afterwards. The trio of females turned right. Buffy walked in the middle of the two witches, each with an arm around the petite blonde’s form as they attempted to stop the Slayer's pitiful crying.

~*~*~*~*~

“Theirs is a perfect love, right, Wills?” Buffy slurred. Her left elbow was propped on the small, circular table, her head resting in her upturned palm. Well on her way to becoming drunk and wanting to achieve total, mind-numbing oblivion, she shakily brought the half-empty glass of beer to her lips with her right. In her nearly-drunken state, she ended up dribbling some of the contents down her chin, much to the amusement of her friends.

Willow looked over Buffy’s head, gaining her girlfriend’s eye. Tara shrugged her shoulders unsure what they could do to help the Slayer.

“Uh, Buffy… don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“No… more beer. They said it was free af-after what happened today… so… more.” As if accentuating her point, she slammed the glass down on the table. “More beer,” she growled.

“Ok, but don’t say I didn’t warn you…” the redhead replied.

“See,” Buffy inclined her head towards the remaining Scoobies as they walked over to the three girls – well she thought she did anyway, but she was drunk and it looked to the two girls sitting on either side of her that she was about to slump forward onto the table. “Perfect wuv…”

Willow glanced around, checking to make sure no one noticed how bad off her friend was, and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed Xander and Anya walking up to their table.

“Uh…Wills? What’s with the drunken Buffy?”

“Don’t ask me, Xander. The management claimed it was a free-for-all since the damages from the incident…” Willow air-quoted the word incident, causing Xander to snort and roll his eyes. “…would be covered by insurance. So, Buffy here’s been steadily drinking since we got here.”

“Willow, that was over two hours ago!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she stated, talking about the Slayer as if she wasn’t even there – and in her drunken state, it would be a miracle if Buffy even remembered the conversation – telling the two, “she’s been going on and on about yours being a ‘perfect love’ and… gotta say… getting old. It’s your two’s turn to Slayer-sit. Tara and I are gonna go dance.”

So saying, Willow stood up from the small table and grabbed her lover’s hand, leading her to the dance floor. Xander watched the pair depart, then heaved a sigh and sat down, pulling Anya next to him.

“So… Buffy…”

“Perfect love…” she mumbled into her glass.

“Yeah, got that the first time. Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“More beer!” she bellowed, holding her glass out for Xander to fill. Xander complied, but only poured half a glass. He got a passing waitress to bring him a glass and filled his to the brim, taking a long swallow to ease the ache in his wrist – then promptly sprayed the contents all over the table at Anya’s words.

“I think she’s sexually repressed,” Anya stated in her matter-of-fact tone.

“Wha? Ahn!”

Anya folded her arms across her chest and explained her theory to her boyfriend as if talking to a two year old. Buffy listened disinterestedly as the ex-demon began.

“Well, now that Riley is gone she’s no longer getting orgasms. And, after getting orgasms all this time, to not have them… well, it’s most frustrating. I know this because when you say we can’t have sex each day, I get frustrated. And, even with a vibrator, it’s not the same… although, that one with the dolphin…”

“Ahn!!!”

“What?”

Xander stared at his girlfriend in shock, ears and face bright red from embarrassment; the Slayer just eyed the ex-demon curiously, as if she suddenly held the key to ending Buffy’s unhappiness.

“Remember the ‘right time and place’ rule? This is definitely not the right time,” he hissed under his breath.

“Why? I was just trying to explain why Buffy is drinking entirely too much alcohol. I am an ex-vengeance demon. I’ve seen this happen many times.”

“Really?” This from Buffy.

“Oh yes,” Anya nodded, warming to her topic now that she had gained a rapt audience. “See, the vibrator, although it does work in a pinch, it’s just not the same as having a man…” The rest was muffled as Xander slapped his good hand over his girlfriend’s mouth.

But, the message had been received, and Buffy eyed the male patrons with renewed interest. Because in all honesty, Anya was right. Her trusty vibrator so wasn’t getting it done for her!

And, it had been weeks…

~*~

Upstairs, in a darkened corner of the Bronze, Spike was also well on his way to becoming smashed – for entirely different reasons.

“Just an innocent bystander,” he mumbled into his cup, before downing the shot in one quick gulp. He grabbed the bottle resting at his foot and poured another healthy dose of the amber liquid into his glass. “Didn’t want ‘er to be made a fool of. Stupid bint… and then blaming me! Innocent vamp here. All I did was bloody show ‘er.”

A few patrons glanced at him as he talked to himself, but a quick growl and an evil glare had them turning away, ignoring his drunken ramblings. When he finished his bottle, he flagged down another waitress for a replacement.

Spike was glad he’d stuck around after the Slayer and her friends had left to deal with the gargantuan troll. The manager had singled him out as one of the people who had tried to stop the beast from destroying his club, so had told Spike that he could have whatever he wanted for as long as he could drink it. Spike had raised his scarred brow at the man and asked for a bottle of JD. He could carry on his conversation with ‘Jim’ and ‘Jose’ once he was finished with his first friend.

As he sat there, several hours later, he’d accumulated a collection of empty bottles beside his chair. He’d even been able to get the waitress to bring him one of those onion things they did up so well. In all, the free food and drink went a long way towards making it a very good day for Spike.

Now, if he could just manage the Slayer…

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy was getting disgusted. Every man that had walked by her table – and there had been lots once the word of free booze had gotten out – just didn’t seem to measure up to her standards… even taking into consideration how drunk she was.

She’d been in the bar for a total of four hours now, had consumed enough liquor to fell an entire fraternity, yet her finicky nature hadn’t managed to decide on a replacement for Riley. Even her friends had given up on her, having departed for home almost thirty minutes ago, leaving her to drink by herself.

All the alcohol she had consumed had finally managed to catch up with her, and she staggered to her feet to weave her way to the ladies room. She bumped into a few people along the way, but they hadn’t seemed to mind. Only the most die-hard drinkers were left in the place. And, the small group was so trashed.

Oh, the joys of being drunk! Good thing they were all happy drunks.

Buffy exited the bathroom with a smile on her face. Her bladder was definitely a happy camper. Swaying on her feet in time to the music, she sauntered up to the bar and asked the man for another beer. He eyed the petite – obviously drunk – girl before him, but shrugged and poured her a draft.

“Thank you,” she slurred, downing half the contents of the mug in a few quick swallows. A loud belch burst from her lips, and the bartender laughed for a moment before offering to top off her glass.

“Thank you,” she slurred again.

“Anytime.”

Buffy pushed herself away from the bar, and staggered towards the stairs. Her bleary-eyed gaze took in the contraption before her, her inebriated state making the steps seem like a complex math problem that required oodles of concentration, rather than the simple device of enabling someone to gain a higher level in the establishment. Gripping the railing, Buffy carefully made her way to the upper level. She fell on her ass a few times but hadn’t spilled a drop of beer, a fact for which she was rather proud.

The steady stream of music the DJ played drifted about her, and she walked to the railing to glance at the twirling figures below – that is, until she almost got sick as a wave of vertigo suddenly hit her. She scrambled away from the edge, mindful of her full glass of beer. Which reminded her…

She stopped in the middle of the floor and drained the glass; she was getting rather good at this. Satisfied with herself and her adaptability to the awful taste of beer, she let loose with another belch, depositing her empty mug on a vacant table.

“Keep the noise down,” a voice called out from the darkened corner.

“Why? Whadaya gonna do ‘bout it?” she slurred back, turning around in circles as she tried to find whoever it was talking to her.

After several pirouettes, she came to a stop as the turning motion became too much for her inebriated state. Closing her eyes with a groan, she stood in the middle of the room and waited for it to stop spinning. When she finally opened her eyes a minute later, she encountered the bleached vampire, ridges and fangs prominent, as if trying to scare her.

“Oh, Spike,” she exaggerated as she rolled her eyes. “It’s just you.”

“Hey! Whatdaya mean ‘it’s just you?’ Bloody hell, Slayer. I’m still the Big Bad I’ll have you know…”

“Pffft. Whatever…” she rolled her eyes at the vamp. Then, her eyes lit on the drink he was holding before she glanced down to her empty hands. ‘Where’d my glass go?’ she thought to herself – having already forgotten she'd put it down on a table when it was emptied.

“Whadaya drinkin’?” she asked the vampire as she eyed the contents of his glass.

His gaze narrowed on her lips as if he could decipher what she’d just asked him. He noticed her eyes locked on his glass, and watched – groaning to himself – as she licked her lips in anticipation.

“’s a man’s drink. You don’t want none ‘o that.”

Buffy let out an inelegant snort and snatched the glass out of the unsuspecting vampire’s hand.

“Hey!” he shouted, watching as the Slayer downed the half-full glass of scotch.

“More,” she demanded, holding out the empty glass to him.

“‘More’ she says,” he mumbled under his breath as he snatched the glass out of her hand and turned away to walk back to his chair. An evil leer came over his features, and he filled the glass to the rim and held it out to her, arching his scarred brow in challenge.

Buffy walked over to where he stood in the darkened corner.

“Pfft.

She took the glass and downed the entire contents right before his eyes; her throat had long since gone numb from all the alcohol she’d consumed. Spike watched her in bug-eyed amazement while her throat muscles worked as she drained the amber liquid from the glass. When she swallowed every last drop, she held it out the cup to him in triumph.

Not to be outdone, Spike filled the glass to the rim and easily matched her. He held the empty glass between his thumb and forefinger and shook it tauntingly in front of her face – giving the Slayer a smirk.

“Pour,” she demanded, setting off their unspoken challenge. Two more bottles and an equal amount of hours later, the two adversaries reluctantly declared a draw. Glancing around, Buffy and Spike noticed that they were the last two patrons left in the Bronze. The two staggered to their feet, and practically fell into each other’s arms in order to remain upright… too drunk to care who – or what parts – they were groping.

Wrapping one arm around the other, Spike and Buffy leaned heavily on each other as they carefully made their way to the stairs.

“Spike? Is the room spinning?”

Buffy stepped down onto the first step and promptly lost her balance. Vampire and Slayer tumbled over each other on their painful descent to the ground floor. They landed in a tangle of arms and legs, much to the amusement of the bartender.

“Ow! Bloody hell, Slayer! It is now,” Spike growled in answer to her question, grabbing at his sore head. He leaned up on his elbows and glanced over to where Buffy lay sprawled next to him. “You alright?”

“Just peachy,” she muttered, unconsciously copying his movement and cradling her head in her hands.

Spike stood and reluctantly offered her his hand, which she took without hesitation.

Buffy wasn't going to quibble over where her help might come from, because without assistance, she wasn’t sure if she would have been able to get up. The room had started to spin out of control, and she felt like she was on a merry-go-round gone wild.

“Come on, Slayer. Let’s get you home,” he told her.

Well, that’s what he thought he said, but with as much as he had had to drink, it was probably less cognizant.

~*~*~*~*~

The blast of cold air as they stepped outside forced a startled gasp from Buffy. Clad in only a silky tank top, her arms were left exposed to the chilly night air. Still drunk, she cared not that she leaned into the bleached vampire as if to seek warmth.

Spike, for his part, was elated. He wasn’t quite so inebriated that he didn’t realize that the Slayer was cuddling next to him in order to get warm. Trying to get on her good side after the whole Riley fiasco, he slipped off his duster and settled it around her shoulders.

“Mmmm…warm,” she purred, plastering herself to the vampire’s side as he settled his arm around her shoulder.

Spike swallowed hard, closing his eyes in anguish as his cock responded to her velvety voice. He’d just see the Slayer home and then hurry back to his crypt... then wank off to the memory of having had her in his arms, however innocent it seemed.

“Goodnight, Buffy,” he finally told her once they reached her porch. Probably the two hardest words he’d ever uttered in his entire unlife. Especially given the dazed – still drunk – expression on her face. As he turned and walked down the cement path to the street, he couldn’t believe he was walking off and leaving her there. Alone. Untouched.

He was turning into a right bloody git!

~*~*~*~*~

His hand – and mental images – had nearly worked him into orgasm when he heard his crypt door slam open and feet stomp across the upper level.

“Spike!”

Naked, he plopped back on the bed, groaning in frustration. Leave it to the Slayer to interrupt his hand job.

“Spike!” she hollered again.

He wasn’t going to answer. She’d find the trap door soon enough, and if she was crazy enough to come below… well, she deserved the eyeful she’d be getting. The thought of her actually seeing him like this caused a groan to escape his mouth, and his hand returned to his throbbing cock.

Caught up in his fantasies once more, he didn’t hear Buffy climb down the stairs to his bedroom. The pace on his hand increased as the images in his mind once more played havoc with his senses. Then, his body tightened and twitched, and his cock erupted onto his hand and stomach, his head thrown back into the pillows as he milked himself dry. Replete, his bones turned to jello and he sagged back onto the mattress.

The euphoric haze slowly receded, and Spike became aware of his surroundings. His nose caught a whiff of the Slayer, and he opened startled eyes and found them locked with hers. Only to have them widen in shock as they caught the scent of her arousal. His nostrils flared as he watched her strip out of her clothes, letting them fall to the ground without regard for their care.

Then she was moving, climbing up onto the bed and straddling his naked body. His softening cock quickly hardened at the sight, and he dared not move in case it was some dream his twisted mind had concocted.

“Anya had the right of it,” she slurred drunkenly. “’s not the same.”

Spike wasn’t sure what she was talking about, or if the vision before him was some elaborate dream. He had no time to think about it, however, as Buffy grabbed his shaft and impaled herself on him.

“Oh, god… Buffy,” he groaned, grabbing her hips and holding her in place. Her pussy was liquid heat, enflaming him, and Spike thought he’d died and gone to heaven. His eyes opened and gazed upon her. Golden strands of hair cascaded down her back, made longer because her head was thrown back in pleasure. Her breasts, perfectly formed, ached for his touch, and he reluctantly removed his hands from her hips so that he could fondle them – rubbing each nipple between thumb and forefinger, coaxing them to even harder pebbles.

She groaned from her spot above him, thrusting her chest into his hands, and the sound was music to his ears. Unable to endure just the feel of the flesh in his hands, Spike hauled himself to a sitting position, desperate to taste her. It was much better than his dreams, he thought as his mouth closed over one distended nipple. Her cries of "Oh god," and "Yes!" made him growl and suck harder. She wiggled in his lap, and Spike tore his mouth away with a hoarse shout.

He wanted to lick every inch of her body, draw out the moment until he was mindless with pleasure. But, his dick had other plans. Especially with the Slayer writhing above him. He hoped - prayed - he'd get another chance to do all the things he wanted to.

But now... now he needed to move.

Flipping the Slayer onto her back, he thrust deep into her pussy, groaning as her inner muscles caressed his plunging cock. He pulled back, almost all the way out, and would have smirked if he could as her hands clenched his ass to haul him back inside her. As it was, he could only slide back into her depths, eager to feel her inner walls squeeze him once again.

Beneath him, he felt her lift her hips in order to grind herself against him. He’d give her what she needed. As he continued to pump his hips, one hand slipped between them. His thumb found her clit and began to rub it in a circular motion.

She moaned and he smiled.

“Feel good, baby?”

“Mmmm...”

He rubbed a little harder at the tiny nub. Another moan sounded, and Spike felt her legs lock into place around his back. The new position allowed him to slip a little deeper, and it was he that groaned, unable to stifle the noise. She felt so good – wet and hot, and tight. Her inner walls had a near stranglehold on his cock. Bloody perfection, it was.

His eyes rolled up into his head. The demands of his body soon became an issue. He needed to come again... and now. Already he could feel his orgasm mounting. His hands grasped either side of her waist and he lifted her hips in time with his thrusts. Hard and fast. Driving himself as deep as he could go. Marveling at how her body stretched to accommodate his girth. His balls smacked against her ass.

The bed shook with their movements.

“Wanna come, Slayer?”

“Uh...”

She was beautiful. Her arms were grasping at the sheets. Her tits were bouncing in time to his pounding thrusts. Her face... a mixture of lust and need. She was biting her lip to keep from screaming, and he thought that if she bit any harder, she was going to draw blood.

Her eyes opened suddenly and locked with his.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

He wasn’t one to refuse a lady. He lowered his body onto hers and sought her mouth. There was nothing timid about the kiss. He took possession from the word go. His tongue demanded entrance which she eagerly granted.

Mouth is just as hot as her pussy, he thought.

~*~

Buffy was on sensory overload. Spike was trying to devour her with his mouth, and damned if she wasn’t letting him. His tongue explored every nook and cranny until she became inpatient. Then it was she that was forcing his retreat so she could return the favor.

Not like he minded, if the growl rumbling in his chest was any indication.

Air became an issue finally, and she tore her mouth away and sucked in a breath. She felt his lips place soft kisses along her neck and a shudder ran through her. Who knew that her neck was such an erogenous zone? Her fingers found their way into his hair and sifted through the gelled locks. She was surprised at how soft it felt.

He bit her with his blunt teeth, and she nearly came right then. Her grip tightened and she ground his face into her neck, demanding he do it again. If she’d been sober, she might have questioned having a vampire in such close proximity to her throat. But right now, what he was doing felt too good to have him stop.

~*~

Spike growl against her neck. Did she not realize that she was driving him crazy? Hell, she was practically begging him to bite her. He could feel the blood pounding in her veins, hear it too. If he’d been the least bit sober, he might have hesitated. As it was, the alcohol prevented him from thinking clearly… and it damn sure prevented her from stopping him.

His face shifted without conscious thought. He couldn’t deny himself a little taste, knowing it would probably send her over the edge.

As gently as he could, he sank his fangs into her neck and nearly came as her blood rushed into his waiting mouth.

~*~

Buffy felt the first pull, and her eyes opened wide in shock. The second pull caused them to flutter shut once more as a groan escaped her lips. The third sent her spiraling into orgasm.

~*~

Spike couldn’t hold out any longer. Between the taste of her blood and his cock being squeezed so enticingly… he could no more hold back his orgasm than he could stop the sun from shining.

He moaned into her neck and thrust one last time, burying himself to the hilt. His cock twitched as he spent himself inside her pussy. Collapsing onto her chest, even knowing that he was probably too heavy for her. He allowed himself a minute to luxuriate in the feel of her curves pressed against him before he reluctantly withdrew his fangs from her throat and ran his tongue over the marks. Finally, he pulled free and settled next to her.

Unwilling to let go of her just yet, he turned on his side and pulled her back into his arms. She went willingly enough, thankfully. Which was probably due to the fact of her being halfway asleep already. He slipped one leg between hers and nuzzled into her neck. Felt her body relax into his as she finally drifted off to sleep.

Not wanting to wake to a stake to his chest, he vowed to remain awake and just hold her for a little while as she slept. Moments later, he too, joined the Slayer in slumber.

Best laid plans…

next

Want to leave a REVIEW?