Slaindeer Games

By Larilyn

Rating- NC-17 baby

Summary- The morning after Life Serial…the geeks aren’t finished playing their reindeer games. Much Spuffiness ensues.

Notes- Thanks to my Splendiforous beta Alana who is…well…splendiforous.

Disclaimer- Joss owns everything and everyone. I own some dryer lint.

At the morning Scooby meeting, the gang listened to Buffy describe the demon and the van. Then Willow began her debriefing on the device that made Buffy’s ability to speak go awry.

Buffy furtively tried to scratch a spot in the middle of her back. She leaned over and whispered to Spike, who was sitting next to her on the countertop, "Spike? Could you?" She indicated the itchy spot.

The vampire obliged, scratching his fingertips up and down her back, rubbing the fabric of her shirt against her skin. "Lower." When he reached the right place, she whispered a moan. "Oh….that’s the spot."

Willow told the Scoobies, "I think I reconstructed the device. It seems very advanced."

"How did it work?" Giles asked.

"Mmm." Buffy moaned and leaned back into Spike’s scratching. "That’s nice."

Willow ignored her and asked the Watcher, "Did you watch Star Trek?"

"I cannot say that I did."

"Well, they had this device. It takes a foreign language and makes you hear your language."

Xander chimed in, "The Universal Translator."

"Exactly!"

Giles rebuffed the witch, "Willow, you’re talking about science fiction. The technology to create something that advanced…"

"Mmmm Yessss!" Buffy hissed. Her back was arched and she writhed under Spike’s fingers.

"Would you two cut it out?" A very embarrassed and exasperated Giles asked.

Both Buffy and Spike stopped instantly. "Sorry…." Buffy said sheepishly, "I’m kinda itchy."

"Why didn’t it work on me?" Spike asked.

‘He was listening?’ Buffy thought. ‘I wasn’t listening. What are they talking about?’ Buffy glanced at the table and saw the device from the other day sitting in the middle of it. Oh…

Anya offered up a simple explanation, "Maybe vampire’s brains are different."

Willow stood up to leave. "I’m going to check the DMV and see what I can find out about the black van."

Spike hopped off the counter. "I’ll check the demon underground…poke around."

"Play poker," Buffy accused.

"Whatever it takes luv." And with a sly smile, he was gone.

Damn cemetery mosquitoes. Buffy thought as she scratched the back of her neck. Little bloodsuckers. Big bloodsuckers. What did I do to deserve this?

A soft voice asked, "Are you okay Buffy?"

"Yeah." The itch on her back roared back. "Tara could you?"

As soon as Buffy turned her back, Tara gasped. She lifted Buffy’s hair off her neck. "Buffy! My God!"

"What? What my God?"

"Um, Mr. Giles? Could you look at this?" Tara called across the room.

"Look at what? What’s going on?" Buffy’s voice raised with panic.

"Good lord," muttered Giles behind her back.

"Okay, I am freaking out here! So someone tell me what’s…"

Tara gently interrupted, "You have a rash…"

Buffy spun around and looked into the two concerned faces. She glanced at her arms and then lifted her shirt a bit to look at her tummy. Purple welts were everywhere. "Oh my God! Its all over me!"

***

Tara suggested a relaxing hot bath. Usually a scalding hot shower was more Buffy’s style. The water would beat down upon her, relaxing her sore muscles. But the fact was, her massaging shower head would probably provide more pain to her welts than comfort.

So a hot bath it was. No bubbles, no essential oils, no sexy naked vampire to share it with.

And my mind always turns to Spike.

Spike.

Buffy took the body puff and squeezed it over her knee. She closed her eyes and pretended it was Spike’s fingers that were cascading down her leg instead of the soapy water.

His voice was in her head. His lips rustled against her neck, and she leaned back and met the hard planes of his chest with her back instead of the cold porcelain.

His hands came up and kneaded her breasts. Buffy whimpered.

Then his fingers tickled down her belly and nestled between her curls. His ring finger teased its way between her nether lips and began a gentle figure eight, brushing her clit every time the circuits met.

"Mmmmm." Buffy’s moan escaped her lips. She closed her eyes tighter and concentrated on the sensation.

She felt the exquisite heat mounting inside her. The muscles of her thighs began to twitch. She raised her hips and then slammed them down, sending water splashing over the rim of the tub as she came.

"Buffy?"

The Slayer pulled her hand out from between her legs as if it were on fire.

"Yeah Will?"

From the other side of the bathroom door, her friend told her, "I’m home. Giles wanted me to take a look at your…whatever it is."

"I’ll be down in a sec."

Buffy’s voice echoed through the empty bathroom.

***

Buffy descended the stairs, fresh from her bath and feeling much better. Thank you incredibly vivid, yet slutty, imagination.

Giles and Willow popped their heads into the foyer, meeting Buffy at the bottom of the stairs. "How are you feeling?" Giles asked.

"Better."

"Tara said you had a rash."

Buffy pushed up the sleeve of her robe to show her best friend. "Yeah its…" Her tanned skin was blemish free. "Gone. I was gonna say icky."

Suddenly, a weal popped up.

"And now its back."

"Look at that!" Willow said with awe as purple welts emerged all over Buffy’s skin.

"Lets…lets step out of the room." Giles took Willow’s arm and pulled her away from the Slayer.

"Is it gone?" Giles called from the living room.

"No. But its not getting any worse either."

Giles and Willow came back to the staircase and more welts appeared. Buffy whimpered in helplessness. "What in the name of ewwwww is going on?"

"I may be jumping to conclusions here; but…I think you may be a…allergic to us."

Willow shot a don’t-scare-her look at Giles. "Lets not jump to conclusions. Jumping’s bad."

As more spots popped up, Buffy wailed, "I’m jumping here!"

The red head ventured, "Maybe its a spell…or…"

Giles calmly rationalized, "I think, for a while at least, you should avoid human contact."

"How the hell am I supposed to stay away from people? I live with people!"

***

Buffy slammed shut the door of the crypt behind her. She dropped two small suitcases on the floor on each side of her. "Slayer? What the hell?"

"I have the pox."

Spike eyed her closely. Sure enough, a rash of some kind covered her from head to toe. "Small or chicken?"

"People. I have the purple people pox."

"And you’re here because I’m not a person?"

"No," Buffy’s voice was small. "I’m here cuz you don’t have any mirrors."

He soothed the forlorn Slayer with, "Its not so bad luv."

"Sure. But you’d think I’d look good if I was painted fuschia and covered with garbage." She strode over to the chair that Spike had positioned in front of the TV and slumped down in it. "Whatcha watchin?"

"Passions."

Buffy got up and switched the channels. She settled on Oprah.

"Hey!" Spike protested.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I’m a guest. We watch what I want. And you really should think about getting this place wired for cable." She glanced down at her arm. The rash was already starting to fade away. "Cuz I’m probably gonna be staying awhile."

 End Chapter Four