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. Dunno who wrote I Belive In Miracles but the Ramones sang it (sung it?)

Chapter six - Die A Little Another Day

Spike hummed to himself as he walked down the sewer leading back to his crypt. He swung a bag of croissants, Buffy’s breakfast, beside him as he broke into the chorus, " And I believe in miracles And I believe in a better world, for me and you oooh, and I believe in miracles And I believe in a better world for me and you."

A blood-curdling scream from the direction of his crypt caused him to stop in his tracks, and then hightail it towards, "Buffy!"

"Buffy, luv? Are you all…right?" She stood on top of his bed, naked, except for a pillow clutched to her breast. She was stomping her feet, and pointing to the ladder, and shrieking like a ninny.

Over in the corner, Spike saw his kitten wrestling with the remains of what appeared to be, "A sewer rat?" He picked it up and shook the corpse of the dead rat. "You fight demons and vamps every day and you nearly gave me a heart attack over a little sewer rat?"

"Get rid of it!" Buffy screamed.

"Its dead Slayer! See?" Spike couldn’t resist dangling it in her face.

She screamed again, and smacked him with the pillow.

Spike tossed the rat deep into the sewer tunnel. "All gone now. Are you all right, baby?"

Buffy opened her mouth to answer, until Spike passed her by completely and scooped up the kitten in his arms. "You killed that nasty thing, dinnit ya? My brave little Pitty-pat."

"Pitty-pat?" Buffy repeated with amusement.

With a scowl, he asked, "What would you like me to call her?" Then with a leer, he offered, "Pussy?"

Buffy scowled back and crawled down off the bed. "Pitty pat is fine. C’mere sweetie." She snatched the kitten out of Spike’s arms. "Poor precious baby."

"Baby? Pffft." Spike grabbed Pitty-Pat back from the Slayer and rubbed the purring bundle’s ears, "My ferocious girl. Aren’t you, my little hell cat?"

Spike noticed Buffy regarding him thoughtfully, "What?"

"Nothing." She glanced at the bag he had dropped on the bed. "That my breakfast?"

"Yeah."

Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck. "Can it wait?" She purred in a perfect imitation of the feline that was now pressed between them.

"Slayer? Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

Indicating the kitten with a glance, Buffy asked, "You’re not really gonna eat her, are you?"

Spike deposited Pitty-pat onto the bed with one arm, keeping the other wrapped around Buffy’s bare waist. "I’ve got a taste for something else."

"And what would that be?" Buffy felt a tickle in her stomach. I can’t believe this man…I’ve never been so turned on in my life…except the time when we were beating the hell out of each other at the school…or the time…focus Buffy…sexy man…saying something…

"…then we ought to do that slam you up against the wall thing that you’ve been itching to try."

Buffy chuckled, "You had me up until the itching part." She kissed him deeply, darting her tongue into his mouth.

"Buffy? Spike?" Willow’s voice echoed in the emptiness of the upper level of the crypt.

"I am really starting to hate her," Buffy mumbled.

"You better get dressed," Spike instructed, making his way up the ladder.

"Tell her I’m asleep." Buffy grabbed the bag of croissants, crawled under the covers, and proceeded to feed little bits of the bread to the kitten.

***

Out in the van, a war was raging.

"The conspiracy episodes were the backbone of the show! There would be no X-files without the conspiracy!"

Warren stared back at Jonathan, his gaze hard, his opinion unwavering, "The conspiracy was crap. Toward the end, even Chris Carter couldn’t keep track of what was going on. The stand alone episodes were what made the show great. Can you say, ‘Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose’?"

Jonathan crossed his arms, "Can you say ‘The Field Where I Died’?"

Warren scoffed, "An anomaly."

"It was the single worst episode in the history of the show!"

Andrew joined the conversation with, "I liked Millennium. It was a good show."

Warren ignored him completely, and ranted, "And the religious symbolism? What a load of crap! Mulder trussed up like Jesus? And the Lone Gunmen as the three wise men? That was just the last straw."

Andrew interrupted again, "Isn’t that Willow?"

The trio turned their attention to the monitor. Sure enough, standing alone in Spike’s crypt was the Slayer’s best friend.

"Finally some action."

Andrew complained to the group’s apparent leader, "Well, if you had put a camera on the lower level…"

"I didn’t know there was another level, nitwit."

Jonathan shushed them both, "Would you shut up? I’m trying to hear."

***

The redhead glanced nervously around Spike’s crypt as he emerged from the ladder. "Hey pet."

Willow spun and looked at him, her eyes wide. "Where’s Buffy?"

"Sleeping," Spike lied. He watched the witch’s face fall a bit. Damn but I do have a soft spot for the little wicca. Hate lying to her.

"Oh…"

"Something I can do? Nasties that need to be taught a lesson?"

"No. Just thought…Could you tell her I stopped by? You know to check on her itchies?"

"All cleared up," Spike told her.

"Good. Well, I guess I should….don’t want to cause a recurrence." Willow slunk out of the crypt, looking a bit dejected but otherwise no worse for the wear. Spike suppressed a growl of frustration.

***

"Is she gone?" Buffy asked.

She was making the bed, and much to Spike’s annoyance, she was fully dressed. Still irked about the way Buffy had avoided Willow, he prodded, "So…how long are you gonna keep punishing her?"

"I’m not punishing anyone," she asserted, fluffing the pillow a little too vigorously.

"Could’ve fooled me. Not that I’m complaining, seeing as how you’re here with me and not with them." He flopped down on the newly made bed and stretched. He hooked his hands behind his head and looked into her irritated face. "Bloody brilliant if you ask me. Torturing the Scoobies the way you are."

"I’m not…" She steeled herself and pronounced, "There’s no torturing."

"Luv, I know a little something about torture…" He was getting to her, he could see the guilt rising inside her. "Distancing yourself….making them worry…"

She reached for an excuse, "The pox! I can’t be with them because of the pox."

"Bollocks. The pox is an excuse. A good one, granted, but still a big, fat, pimply excuse."

"You know what?" Buffy declared, dropping the pillow she had been fluffing onto Spike’s head. Now I can’t see your cocky, oh so sure of yourself, stupid ass face. "I don’t need this!"

Snatching the pillow off, he tried to stop her with, "Luv…"

"No! I’m gonna go." To illustrate this point, she picked up her suitcases, and the clothes that were strewn about the crypt. "Who cares if the whole itchy scratchy extravaganza comes gushing back? As long as the oh so morally superior vampire isn't disappointed with my behavior… I’m just a bad bad seed."

She stormed away. The kitten followed her exit with wide, worried eyes. She glanced up at the vampire and let out a pitiful meow. Spike picked up the hairless creature and soothed, "Don’t worry Pitty. Mama will be back. She’ll be back."

***

Buffy stormed through the cemetery, ranting, "I’m Spike. I think I’m so smart cuz I ate a couple of psychiatrists once." In an imitation, "Buffy, you have issues. I think that what you need is to hurt your bloody friends and have lots and lots of bloody sex with me, you bloody bint."

"Buffy?"

The Slayer had stormed right by Willow, not even noticing her. Did she just hear…? Okay be all nonchalance-y. "Hey Will."

"How are you feeling? Still all pox-y? Spike says it cleared up."

"Yeah." Buffy studied her arms. The girls watched for a few minutes, checking for any sign of recurrence. "Doesn’t seem to be coming back." Buffy said, with just a little relief in her voice.

"Now you can come home! Right?"

"Yeah," Buffy faked enthusiasm and failed miserably. "No more crypt living for Buffy."

"Was it really awful?" Will asked. "Staying with Spike?"

Well, lets see. I had six, count ‘em six orgasms. And vampire stamina? Holy moley. Do they ever have stamina. "Not so much, I guess. Just…" And does he ever know how to get into my head and twist my brain into itty bitty knots. "…he thinks he knows everything. And, and, he’s like, ‘Oh Buffy, you’re a creature of the night’ and ‘Oh Buffy I know something about torture’ and ‘Oh Buffy Oprah’s a stupid bint, I wanna watch Passions’."

Willow stopped her friend’s rant with, "Buffy? I don’t know what you’re talking about."

For a moment, Buffy had forgotten Willow was there. "Oh. Its nothing. Lets just find Giles, figure out why I’m not itchy anymore."

***

"That’s right boys," Jonathan bragged, "Twenty-two hours. Beat that."

"Wait a minute," Warren protested, "You don’t know that was in fact twenty-two hours. When did your little allergy spell end? What, did it just wear off? Or did the Slayer figure it out?"

"Or did the conditions have to be just so… ? Like in that movie where Dennis Quaid plays the dad and he can talk to his son in the future but only while the Aurora Borealis is in the sky. But they change the past, so the kid’s mom dies so they have to fix it and hunt down her killer before he kills her…" Andrew blushed when he saw the two sets of eyes fixed on him, flashing in annoyance, "Was it like that?"

"The spell was supposed to last until her death. But since that was against the ground rules, I modified it."

Warren asked Jonathan, "Modified it how?"

"So she only had to die a little."

"Die a little?" Warren asked incredulously, "A little death? You idiot! She had an orgasm! That’s what broke your spell!"

"Wowwww," Andrew gasped.

Jonathan turned and faced the monitors that covered one side of the van. He asserted, "We have to get a camera down there!"