Title: Place Your Bets

Author: Pattyanne

Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me.

Feedback: I need it. It's like air and water to me.

Summary: Alternate season 6. Buffy and Spike are trying to win a bet they've made with each other. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (This started out as a 'drabble', then, like Topsy, it "just growed". ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part one: Prefatory Matters "You leaving already?" "Sorry. Got stuff to do." "Fine. I understand. Had your itch scratched and now you can go on about your business until you need it again." "Keep talking like THAT and you won't get yours scratched for a REAL long time." "Right, Slayer. Like you could do without your thrice weekly service call." "Look who's talking." "Hey, I got along fine without you, luv. I'm just doing you a favor here." "Spike...you are so full of shit. You couldn't go without sex if someone offered you all the blood from a Red Cross health fair. I could go way longer than you." "Want to bet?" And THAT was how the whole thing started. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever learn to keep my big mouth shut when I'm ahead. And I WAS ahead, too. I could have done the classy thing and sailed out of the crypt on a cloud of icy silence after that "I'm doing you a favor" crack. What I SHOULD have said was, "Save your favors for someone who needs them!" Or, "I think you have our roles reversed." But, no. Instead...I issue him a challenge. I should have known he'd pounce on it like a starving man at an all- you-can-eat restaurant. I never think before I speak. It's a real problem. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well, I could have backed out of it. Just laughed it off and headed for the door, knowing he can't follow me. But, he must have seen it coming, because HE suddenly backed down, making it sound as though he knew I'd never win and was willing to cut me a break due to me allowing my mouth to once again overload my brain. That damn vampire knows me too well. If I wasn't so crazy about him, I'd stake his arrogant ass. Tack him up like a bug on a pin, then not bother to vacuum up the residue. Yeah, yeah...I'm admitting it. I'm mad about the boy. Deal with it, and move on. It's my guilty little secret. Except that I only feel guilty for keeping the secret, not for it's content. I got tired of feeling guilty for THAT long ago. Grown woman, here. Slayer. Saved the world more than once. Gonna be with who I want. Anyone who doesn't like it can just pack up their toys and go play in someone else's yard. Even Spike doesn't really know my secret...although I suspect he suspects. I'm not terribly good at hiding things from him and he's caught me more than once with a dopey grin on my face as I thought about him in a certain way. This is why I never play poker. I can't bluff worth a damn. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The first thing we did was decide on the (you should pardon the expression) stakes of the bet. It took longer than I'd thought it would. You wouldn't BELIEVE what he wanted from me should he end up the winner! Not that he's going to. I have faith in my self control. I mean, sure...sex with Spike is (to put it mildly) out of this world...but I've garnered a fair amount of savior faire over the years, (I have! Really!) and I'm pretty confident in my ability to resist. And besides...I can always take care of certain matters myself...should it become necessary. Actually, I HAD to learn how to do that when I was involved with Riley. Got to be quite good at it, too...the selfish bastard.

Part two: The Stakes of the Game The doorbell rang just as I was finishing up my "Buffy Beauty Regime". Which is nothing more than a fancy way of saying that I'd showered off the graveyard muck I'd collected from a run in with a couple of new born vamps on my way home. One of the little shits had actually managed to land a punch that split my lip. I'll have to remember to ask Giles how come these losers pop up out of the ground with such handy-dandy fighting skills. I mean, I can understand it if they'd been around for a while, but these clowns were still brushing off the dirt and picking mum petals out of their hair. To make a long story short, the sight and smell of my blood distracted them and I put the finishing touches to them right then and there, getting it over with quickly. I didn't have time to play tonight. Not when my vampire lover was coming to call, and me with a bet to be won. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I gave my hair a quick brushing, leaving it to spread out around my shoulders. Spike likes my hair down. He's actually kind of obsessed with it. Whenever we're alone, he makes a point of pulling out any clips, barrettes, or elastics that I may have used, and refuses to give them back until he's ready to leave. Personally, I think it's kind of sexy that he feels that way. I like the way he plays with it and touches it, and when he buries his face in it and inhales the scent of my shampoo...well, to be honest, it makes me weak in the knees. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror at the foot of the stairs, and was fairly pleased with the view. After thinking it over, I had decided to dress as provocatively as I could. When I was in the shower, all I could think about was how Spike's hands felt on my skin and, to say the least, it made me incredibly horny. Then I remembered that I wouldn't be getting any of that good action tonight, and I went from horny to depressed in 2.0 seconds. So I figured I'd better go into this with guns blazing, because to tell the truth, I'm not at all sure how long I can really hold out. Sure, I talk a good game and all, but over the past few months, I've been treated to a fulfilling and regular sex life. For the first time EVER! It's going to be harder than hell (yes, I know about Freudian Slips) having to do without. Vibrators are great in an emergency, but when you're hungry it's hard to settle for a hamburger after you've been dining on Fillet Mignon. So I wriggled into my tightest jeans and a nearly transparent light green top, skipping the bra that I usually wear beneath it. My make up was light, but my summer tan was still lingering a bit so I just dusted on a bit of blush and a trace of mascara, and left it at that. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I answered the door with the nicest smile I had available, which only got bigger when I saw him standing there. He looked so damn good. No matter what anyone says about Spike, there's one thing you can't deny or take away from him....he's fucking gorgeous. Every part of him. His face, which looks like it's been chiseled out of marble; his body, lean and strong, with just the right amount of muscle and not an ounce of fat; even his hair, so surprisingly silky when I run my busy little fingers through it. He's dressed in black...big surprise. The jeans are tight, and the t-shirt looks as though it may have shrunk a bit during the laundering process. It stretches across his chest in the most appealing way. Oh, and he's got on that dark blue shirt he was wearing the night I finally broke down and admitted that I wanted him as much as he wanted me. God, I love that shirt on him. Not just because of the pleasant memories it calls up, but because the color darkens the already lovely blue of his eyes. He smiled at me, and I heard the little devil that popped up on my shoulder lean over and whisper in my ear. "You're going to deprive yourself of THAT? What, are you...nuts?" I must be. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "What happened to your face?" Spike closed the door and cupped my chin in his hand. I had to force myself not to jump into his arms and plant a long, hard kiss on him. Believe me, it wasn't easy. His eyes zeroed in on the small cut, and I was happy to see that they glazed over just a little when he saw the spot of dried blood. Spike has a major yen for my most vital fluid. I'll admit, I've been a bad little slayer at times by giving him a taste here and there. I haven't let him bite me...although I suspect THAT day isn't too far off. A vampire's bite is a very erotic experience, and if it wasn't for their tendency to drain people dry, I'd highly recommend it. But even though there's been no biting, I've let him taste me. One night, we were out on patrol...alone...and the usual mayhem ensued. The vampire I was fighting had sharp nails and he left two long cuts on my upper arm before I dusted him. When Spike was done playing, he finished his opponent off and came back to me. A good fight always gets his motor humming, and between that and the sight of the O positive trickling down my arm...well, he was primed. That was a night to remember. He just went wild on me, shoving me up against the cold marble wall of some poor schlub's mausoleum and practically tearing my underpants off. I wrapped my legs around his waist and he plunged into me all the way. Even though he has an impressive cut of beef between his legs, he's always considerate and careful not to hurt me. When it's fully erect, Spike's cock is ten inches long. Talk about dying and going to heaven! Long and big around as well, and does he know how to use it? Drives me up the freaking wall and back down again. So I was there, up against that icy marble, and he had his hands under my ass to hold me up as he pounded into me over and over again. He always makes me come first before he lets himself go, and after he went off inside me, he began licking the blood off my cuts. And I thought it had been good BEFORE! In no time at all, he was big and hard and ready...again. He fucked me four times in fifteen minutes! Like I said....a night to remember. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From the way he was staring at my lip, I couldn't help but feel that this contest was in the bag. No way he'd be able to go without. "Oh, I had my nightly spot of violence on the way home," I explained. Turning to lead him into the living room, I swung my hips a little more than I normally do. I don't know what I was hoping for. Maybe that he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me upstairs, admitting that I had won the bet without firing a single shot; or maybe that he would slip his arms around me and pull me down on the sofa, then kiss my 'ouchie' all better. Whatever it was, I didn't get it. His hands stayed shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. "So, have a seat." I pointed at the armchair across from the sofa. He did as I asked, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. "You ready to talk terms?" "I'm ready if you are." I think.... He gave me one of those little half smiles of his. "Right, then. Here's the wager. I say that I can go longer without sex than you can..." "Fat chance," I interrupted, snickering. "Shut up and let me finish. You seem to be under the misguided notion that you can outlast me. I'm gonna prove you wrong." I tingled all over when his eyes were once again drawn to my puffy lower lip, and I ran my tongue over it. "Loser is whoever begs first," he said distractedly. "Deal!" I held out my hand to shake on it. "So...WHEN I win this bet...what do I get?" "Hmm?" He shook his head and took my hand. Didn't shake it, just held it, rubbing his thumb caressingly over the back. "Oh. What do you want?" What do I want? What a loaded question! I can't answer it honestly, or the game will be over before it gets rolling. Mulling it over briefly, all I can come up with is the hackneyed cliche of.... "Breakfast in bed. For a whole week." Spike rolled his eyes. "Are you serious? You honestly want me to come over here before the bloody sun comes up...and feed you?" It's sounding better and better. "You heard me, blondie. I want your undead ass over here every morning for seven straight days. You cook...you serve it to me in bed...and you clean up." After staring at me for a minute, he smiled suggestively. "Well, there's nothing I like better than servicing you in bed...." Settle down, heart! Keep breathing, lungs! "...so, all right." Maybe I can get him to serve it to me naked. Oh, I have GOT to win this bet! "Not that you have a snowball's chance in hell, but what do you want if you win?" I had to ask! TBC.... Next...Part three: The First Card

Part three: The First Card Dealt Unfortunately, no matter what delightful little games two people may decide to play with each other, real life occasionally drops in to visit. Spike and I had no sooner shook hands and sealed our bet, then the front door flew open with a bang and my one teenager wrecking crew came pelting in as though the hounds of hell were hot on her tail. This being Sunnydale, that wasn't entirely impossible. But, as it turned out, it was just Dawn being Dawn. The minute she saw Spike, she planted herself down on the sofa and refused to budge. Baby sister is still lugging a serious torch around for him, no matter how much she denies it. And, now that she's getting older, she's figuring out that she's pretty damn cute when she wants to be. Not that Spike has any interest in her that way. Dawn is as much a little sister to him as she is to me. She knows he's a captive audience, though, and she totally monopolizes him when he visits. She begs for help with her homework, asks him to watch movies with her, coaxes him into telling her stories that our mother would be horrified to hear, and spoils him rotten by indulging him in his second biggest weakness...chocolate. Cookies, candy, cocoa...all of it at once sometimes. It's enough to put an innocent bystander into a diabetic coma. I swear, sometimes she gets him so hopped up on sugar that I actually think I can hear his heart start up. By the time I bullied the little rat into her pajamas and sent her to bed, Spike couldn't even sit still anymore. As I waved goodbye, I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for any vampires that crossed his path tonight. His energy level would keep him beating on them for hours. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Real life continued to fuck me over the next day. For some bizarre reason, I felt the need to do some house cleaning. That happens every once in a while. I'll just be sitting around like a lump, and an urge to start scrubbing floors will hit me. Not very often...thank God. So, I cleaned the kitchen, dusted the living room, and watered all my dying plants. Then, I hauled out the vacuum cleaner, a heavy beast that's been around since the dawn of time. I don't know where my mother got that monster, but it's a bear to push around. I was halfway through the living room when I heard it. Clackity-clank-thunk-shizzz-urrrrr-wheeeeze.... And the beast died at my feet. I scooped the wretched machine up and laid it out on the kitchen table. Something inside of me told me I should wait until Xander could take a look at it for me, but then my "I'm perfectly capable of handling this my- self" grown up alter ego accidentally took over. I lugged the tool kit up from the basement and began to unscrew, unfasten, unbolt, and just generally fuck up mother's beloved Hoover. It didn't take long for me to realize that I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and when I finally admitted it, I threw my screwdriver down on the floor and growled, rather impressively. "I just love hearing your dulcet tones when I walk into a room, darling." Spike stepped into the kitchen, avoiding a booby trap of dropped screws and bolts. "Do I need this?" I whined. "Need what? Me? Well, I like to think that you...." "This!" I yelped, pointing at the dead machinery cluttering up the kitchen table. "Do you need a vacuum cleaner?" He pulled out a chair and sat down, tilting it back on two legs. "Yeah, you're kind of a slob so you probably do." I nearly slugged him. "It's broken. It's nothing but...parts!" "How did it become parts?" he asked. "I took it apart. To fix it." "Uh-huh. And when did you learn the fine art of vacuum cleaner repair?" Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I glared at him. "Obviously, I didn't, or it wouldn't be in eighty-six pieces." He leaned forward and picked up something that was totally unrecognizable, and as I watched him turn it over in his hands, I suddenly remembered the bet. And that we were all alone in the house. Switching gears, I smoothed my hair down and licked my lips. "What's that?" He looked at me and grinned. "What are you asking ME for?" Fuck! He is so damn cute when he smiles like that! "You're a man, aren't you?" I asked, trying to sound girlyish. His blue eyes just danced with amusement. "Oh, I am, am I? Funny, you saying it right at this particular moment. And, by the way, what does that have to do with anything?" Lowering my fanny into the chair next to him, I shrugged and smiled. "Men are supposed to fix things, aren't they? Like cars...and toasters...and vacuum cleaners." He glanced at me, kind of warily. "What's wrong with it?" "I don't know. It was working all right a little while ago, but now..no matter how much I play around with it, I can't make it suck." His chair came down with a bang. Woo-hoo! Score one for me! This was going to be as easy as pie. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay, it's not gonna be as easy as actual pie. He didn't respond to my play on words, unless you count him shoving the mess away from him and telling me it was time to go and play in the local graveyards a response. I decided to worry about the mess tomorrow. I had way better things to do tonight. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My jeans were so tight they were almost cutting off my circulation. But I don't care, cause they look so great on me. Faded and soft, they hugged every single curve of my legs and ass, making me look wildly sexy and totally.... "You look like you're about to split the seat of those pants, Slayer." Whistle, crash, boom! Come on back down to earth, Buffy. "Thanks a lot," I snipped at him. "But you couldn't be more wrong." Seeing an opportunity, I took it. "See!" I said. Bending at the waist and touching my toes, I said a silent prayer that the denim wouldn't betray me as I presented him with a nice long look at my ass. Which I happen to know he finds very attractive. I bounced back up and gave him a cheeky grin as I covertly studied his response. Eyes a little glassy? Check! Lips slightly parted? Check! Breathing....well, skip that one. Poor baby. He turned away, but I'm pretty sure I saw him reach down and make "an adjustment". Feeling that everything was going my way, I decided to press my advantage. "I'm hungry," I informed him. "Let's walk through the orchard." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The orchard wasn't really an actual orchard. It was more like the garden behind Mrs. Galbraith's house. She lived on the far side of Restfield, in a big old stone house that was built sometime around the turn of the century. WHICH century, I do not know. Mrs. Galbraith is 84 years old, and she still grows and cans her own fruits and vegetables. She's an absolute sweetie pie. She has no children of her own, and all the kids in town just adore her, because she's so generous with all the goodies she makes. The funniest thing is, what with her living next door to a cemetery, she knows all about our little 'vampire infestation' in Sunnydale. The things she's seen, as she puts it, would curl a dead man's toes. I put in a little extra effort at keeping her end of Restfield as much of a vamp-free zone as I can. In return, she allows me to filch anything I want from her garden. I avoid the carrots, turnips, and snap beans, but help myself to the corn, tomatoes, and summer squash. The fruit trees are where I really score big. She grows lemons, oranges, apples, plums, peaches, cherries, and pears. On the ground, we have strawberries, blackberries, and watermelon. Between all that, and the beautiful flower gardens that surround her house, it's the freaking garden of eden. Just the right spot for a little temptation. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "There's a good one. Right there." "Slayer...there's nothing wrong with these." I know there's nothing wrong with them. They just don't suit my purpose. "I want THAT one," I said eagerly, pointing to a particularly plump and juicy looking peach. "Boost me up." My hero starts to bend over to grab the bottom of my boot. No, no, no....that won't do at all. "My shoes are muddy," I told him, sounding as innocent as I could manage. "Just lift me up like this." I turned my back to him and placed his hands on my waist. "Go ahead." Those strong hands and arms lift me into the air as though I weigh nothing more than a child. I grabbed the peach I wanted, then loosened myself in his grasp and slithered down his body like a slippery little snake. AH-HA! I felt...'it'. Making it's presence known by rubbing against my rear end. And I definitely heard a little gaspy sort of sound come out of him. I'm gonna win! I'm gonna win! I'd BETTER win. Because if HE wins....oh, boy....I don't even want to think about it. TBC... Next: The Second Card Played Part four: The Second Card Played Spike let go of me like I'd been dipped in garlic sauce. He actually PUSHED me away from him. I stumbled and nearly landed on my ass. "What's the matter?" I asked, turning the biggest, most innocent eyes I could on him. "Nothing," he muttered, gathering his coat around his legs. Like I didn't know what was going on between them! Still...I have to make it look good. "You want some fruit?" My voice was sickeningly chirpy as I held out the peach to him. He gave me a wary look, definitely trying to figure out what I was up to. God, it's so obvious. This bet we have going is just one more example of our competitiveness. We're always trying to outdo each other. When we go out patrolling, we keep track of how many vamps each of us slays. Kind of like a score card. Who- ever loses buys the ice cream, and so far, we've been pretty even. This "Anything YOU can do, I can do better" attitude goes back a long way with us, probably back to the begin- ning, but it really got rolling good on the first night we slept together. Well...we didn't SLEEP. Not much, anyway. No, we really spent most of the night trying to fuck each other into unconsciousness. By the time morning came, we were both bruised, battered, and exhausted. It was the best night of sex I've ever had! Bar none! I think we did everything it's possible for two people to do that night. Him on top, me on top, him behind me, up against the wall...he actually stood up and flipped me upside down at one point! We performed mutual oral on each other, but we had to stop because all the blood was rushing to my head and I couldn't concentrate. That was the only time I gave ground. With everything else we did, I stayed right with him. Hey, I'm the slayer! It's a matter of pride. That's why I'm gonna work double hard on this bet. Be- cause it's not enough for me to win. I have to make him lose. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We walked home the long way, sharing the peach I'd plucked from Mrs. Galbraith's tree. It was sweet and juicy, and I made the most of the oppor- tunity by eating it as noisily as I could. I threw in a few added tricks, like licking the juice off my fingers, but he had all his defense mechanisms in place, and managed to ignore me. Apparently, he's figured out what I'm up to. Guess I'll have to be more subtle. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I've been thinking about getting a job." He looked at me, definitely surprised. "Really?" No, not really. The council pays me a nice fat salary these days, and they throw in medical and dental coverage for me and Dawn. "Uh-huh. Problem is...I can't really DO anything market- able." I stuck out my lower lip and pouted, something that usually turns him on. "I'm useless." He gave me a surprised look and shook his head. "That's not true. You're the slayer. You protect the innocent from things like me." Well, I need a better line than that! "Really?" I asked, trying to look all uncertain and in need of a good pep talk. "Absolutely!" he replied. "You provide a very important and valuable service in this town." Much better! "Maybe," I sighed. "But I can't expect people to pay me to service them." Naughty talk and sexy innuendo. Two things Spike does very well. I'm learning from the best. He jumped about two feet, and muttered something to himself that I couldn't quite hear. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By now, we were on Sunnydale's main street. It's a long stretch of road named, big surprise, Main Street. The middle section is full of nice shops and restaurants. But the two outer edges consist mainly of lower class bars, run down pool halls, cheap no-tell motels, and a few sleazy strip joints. Also, an adult movie theater, and a couple of tattoo parlors. You can guess where most of the action is. I stopped in front of a charming little establishment known as, I kid you not, 'Club 4-Play'. There's originality for you! Beneath the neon signs flashing "GIRLS...GIRLS...GIRLS!!" are posters advertising what's going on inside. And, if you STILL couldn't figure it out, there's a guy out in front explaining it. "Come on in, boys. I can promise you the hottest show outside of the Vegas strip. You want girls? Have we got girls! Beautiful girls, with beautiful bodies! If you like it, we've got it in here, that's a plain fact. Blondes, redheads, and brunettes. They're gorgeous, they're hot, and they want to dance for you. You like lap dances? Our girls are experts. Big tits? Big asses? We've got 'em in here. Just come on in and take a look." As we're walking by, the barker tries to shove a flyer into Spike's hand. He ignored it....so I took it for him! "Hmm," I said, examining the flyer, looking very serious. "I wonder if they're hiring." He stared at me as though I'd completely lost every single one of my marbles AND the bag they came in. "What? I can dance." Unfortunately, flyer-boy overheard me and came over to stick his two cents worth in. "Hey, babe. We're always looking for new talent." He gestured over his shoulder towards the entrance. "It's amateur night. Why don't you come on in and show us what you can do?" The little pervert was LEERING at me! Spike grabbed my arm. "Trust me. You really DON'T want to know what she can do." "Look, friend," flyer-boy said, unknowingly taking his life in his hands by stepping a little closer to me. "If the lady wants to dance..." "Number one," Spike snapped, turning on him. "I'm not your friend. Number two...the lady only dances for me. And number three," he tacked on, placing his hand on the guy's chest and shoving him back three feet, "fuck off!" I love it when he's possessive! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Spike dragged me home...literally! He kept a firm grip on my hand and hauled me away from Club 4 Play at double time march. He looked all frowny and glowering, and...I've gotta admit...sexier than all get out! I'm starting to regret ever accepting this bet. Right now, there's nothing on earth I want more than for him to take me upstairs and make my bedsprings squeak. "What are you so pissed off about?" I ask him, trying to catch my breath as he yanks me along. "I told you I was thinking about getting a job." He stopped and I ran right into him. Turning on me, his eyes are blazing and snapping with blue flame. Sexy! Oh, God...I want him now! "A job? In there?" he demanded. "Taking your clothes off for every horny bastard in Sunnydale? What the hell is the matter with you?" Good question... He pushed me up against the tree in my front yard. The one he used to stand under while staring up at my bedroom window on the nights Riley was visiting. Geez...if I'd known THEN what I know NOW, I'd have thrown Riley out the window head first and invited Spike in. Moving a little closer, I can feel his body pressing against me. "Besides," he added, "that's strictly a night- time job...and you have plenty to do at night already." He put a little emphasis on "do" and I know what he's up to. The same thing I am, dammit! Well, he's not gonna get away with it. "That's true." I gave him my sexiest smile. "With the slaying and all, I'd never get any...sleep." My hips rub lightly against his. "Is it 'hard'...being 'up' all night?" His voice dropped down into that deep tone that sends shivers up and down my spine. "It's VERY hard." Okay, he definitely knows what I'm doing and is trying to beat me at my own game...standing there in the moonlight...looking like chocolate dipped sin. God, I want to just give in. I want to tell him that I don't care about the stupid bet, that I'll do anything he wants if he'll just take me into the house and make love to me until I can't walk straight. He leaned down a bit closer. I can almost feel his lips on mine, and I want it so badly that I could scream. No one kisses like he does. He can practically give me a bone rattling orgasm just by sliding his tongue in and out of my mouth. "G'night, luv," he said, pinching my cheek, leaving me standing there with damp panties and an empty ache between my legs the size of the Grand Canyon. I hope the batteries in my vibrator are still good. TBC.... Next: Bluffing

AN: There are references to 'Older And Far Away' in this chapter, specifically about the birthday party. However, I've changed things to make it a much nicer party. There will be NO references to the beating Spike took in 'Dead Things'. Not in MY happy little story. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Five: Bluffing Whoever said that "good things come to those who wait" didn't know what the hell they were talking about. Either that, or they weren't waiting to have sex with Spike. I've been waiting for three days now, and to be honest, I'm sick and tired of it. To win this bet and get back to where we once belonged, I'm finding myself in need of an edge. Last night...I got one. And it's a doozy! I woke up this morning and discovered that my period had started during the night. My cycle is usually pretty regular, but for some reason, I don't know why, it came early this time. I can only assume that someone up there likes me, because opportunity is not only knocking on my door, it's also leaning on the bell and sticking it's fingers through the mail slot. My vampy lover boy will crumble like a house of cards the minute he gets close enough to sniff me. Another advantage of having sexual liaisons with a vampire is that he's not squeamish when a girl is on the rag. I found that out when I had my first period after we became lovers. Of course, there ARE lots of other advantages, too. Things like stamina, an almost nonexistent recovery time, and the generous size of their equipment...although I'm not sure if that's a 'vamp' thing, per se, or a 'Spike' thing. In other words, he's not called 'the BIG bad' for nothing. Apparently, a slayer's menstrual blood is like catnip for a vamp. Drives them bug-fucking nuts. I remember a scooby meeting we had not long after our Glory days were over. There was something important going down, but Spike wasn't paying a bit of attention to what was being discussed. He kept staring at me, then he'd look away real quick whenever I caught him. I didn't know what the hell was bugging him. He drove everyone crazy drumming his fingers on the table, fiddling with a stack of reference books, and drawing pictures on some thousand year old scroll with Willow's Hi-liter marking pens. So, then he jumps to his feet and starts wandering around the Magic shop, humming to himself, snapping his fingers, and just generally irritating everyone. Xander told him to settle down, but Spike just gave him the finger. We all tried not to pay attention to his antics after that, but then he started rearranging the merchandise, picking things up and putting them down someplace else. Giles hates that sort of thing, being the type of person who has the contents of his medicine cabinet arranged in alphabetical order. Since I wanted to avoid a fight, I got up and headed across the room to lay a little 'slayer' discipline on my biggest problem child. He saw me coming and backed away fast, knocking over a display table and breaking a bunch of glass bottles that contained ingredients for different spells; bottles with labels on them that read 'Skunk Root Elixir' and 'Canine Saliva' and the ever popular 'Badger Urine'. It took us three days to air the place out and make it fit for customers. Giles was furious and Anya started to cry. It turned out that those stinky spell ingredients were some of the best selling items in the store, not to mention the priciest. I decided to get Spike out of staking range, and marched him out of the store by the scruff of his neck. I nagged him all the way back to his place, trying to get him to tell me what the hell was the matter with him, but it wasn't until I wrestled him to the ground and sat on him that he finally fessed up. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that the whole sorry mess was MY fault! That if I hadn't been "sashaying around, flaunting my human female bodily functions right under his nose", it never would have happened. I didn't know a person could sashay while sitting in a chair. That was when I first found out about the effects a slayer's menstrual blood can have on a vampire. I never dreamed that the knowledge would come in so handy! ****************************** After I packed Dawn off to spend the night with Willow and Tara, I took a quick shower and put on a halter top and a pair of my shortest shorts. I fixed my hair and make up, then went downstairs and waited for the doorbell to ring. When Spike walked in, he took one look at me and knew we weren't going anywhere. "You feel all right, love?" he asked, looking at me all concerned. God, can he be sweet when he wants to be! "Yeah, I'm okay," I answered, sounding as listless as I could. "Just don't feel like going out tonight is all." He took off his coat and tossed it over the back of a chair. My tongue nearly hit the floor, he looked so damn good in his black button down shirt and tightest pair of jeans. "Right, then," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and tilting his head to one side a bit, and oh, God...I love it when he does that! "Umm...I rented a movie," I said, controlling my urge to tackle him and tear his clothes off. "And I made some popcorn." This is a sure fire form of distraction. Spike loves movies. He drags me to see every new one that hits the local cineplex. No matter how crappy it is, he makes me sit through it, bribing me with treats from the candy counter. Actually, I really don't mind, because during the real stinkers...the movies that rate a raised middle finger instead of a thumb...we usually sit in the back row and start making out like a couple of horny teenagers. That's the kind of thing I didn't have much of a chance to do when I was a kid. I was only sixteen when I was "called to meet my destiny", as Giles puts it, so I didn't really have much of an opportunity to date, being busy with the slaying and all. Even after I met Angel, I didn't get to date much. He took me out for coffee once, and then to a movie two years later. That was pretty much it. And there was no fooling around either time. But Spike is making up for it. ****************************** "What are we watching?" Spike planted himself at the far end of the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "You've got your choice," I said, showing him what I'd rented. "Interview With The Vampire." He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Okay...how about From Dusk Til Dawn?" "What else?" he asks. "Finding Nemo?" He smiled at me. Bingo! Spike is such a little kid sometimes. Between his fondness for candy and his enjoyment of animated films, you'd swear he was only nine years old. So cute! ****************************** I went into the kitchen and came back out with the popcorn, a huge bowl of M&Ms, and two bottles of Orange Crush. It's disgustingly sweet, and he's the only other person I've ever met that likes it as much as I do. He's got the movie ready to go, and punches the play button as I settle down next to him on the couch, sitting real close so that we can share the popcorn. The first day of my period is usually pretty heavy, so I wear a sanitary pad because those super absorbent tampons scare me. When you've literally come back from the dead, you don't take any unnecessary chances with health and mortality. At least I don't...well, beyond the ones that I'm forced to take due to my occu- pation, I mean. After a couple of minutes, I feel a rush of fluid exiting my body. Like Pavlov's dog, Spike sits straight up on the couch, then turns and glares at me. "You're diabolical," he says, inching away. "How so?" My innocent act needs work. I can't look at him and keep a straight face, so I start tossing M&Ms into the air and catching them in my mouth. He reaches over and snatches one out of the air, popping it into his own mouth. "It's not going to work, Slayer. I've got a bit more self control than you give me credit for." Up until tonight, I didn't give him credit for ANY self control. Spike's always been Mr. If-I-want-it-it's-mine-so- hand-it-over-right-NOW! Especially when it comes to me and him...and sex. Would a guy with self control follow me into the bathroom, pull down my pants, and nail me to the wall during my birthday party? I think not. I've got to stop thinking about those things, or I'll never win this bet. Then I'll be seriously up shit creek without a paddle anywhere in sight. However, I'm starting to find out that it's easier said than done, 'specially when a girl's not getting any of what she's become so divinely accustomed to. That birthday party...wow, what a night that was! I've often had dreams...fantasies, I guess...of being locked in a house overnight with Spike. The things we do in those fantasies would make the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire look like an Easter egg hunt. But my fantasy did NOT include all the other people who were there. No friends...no tantrum throwing little sisters...no demons, friendly or otherwise...and definitely no blind date set ups arranged by those whose hearts were in the right place, but who are blissfully ignorant of the fact that my body is permanently spoken for...yeah, and my heart, too. Absolutely, my heart! TBC.... Next: Bluffing (part 2) Have to break this into two parts, cuz it's getting so long.

Part Six: Bluffing (2) So, self-control boy thinks he can resist me, huh? Well...maybe he can. But I'm not gonna make it easy for him. Leaning back against the couch, I drape one of my legs over his, which are still stretched out and on my coffee table. Spike tensed up and nudged me away a little with his shoulder. "What's the matter?" I asked him, trying hard not to giggle. "Am I a little too close for your famous self control to handle?" He gave me a look, then laughed. "You think an awful lot of yourself, don't you, little girl?" Do I? I hope not. I don't want to be one of those 'Cordharmony' types that figures the sun only rises and sets because they happen to be standing there. "Stop pouting," he added, watching the little orange and white clown fish bounce off the walls of an aquarium. "I'm not pouting," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring straight ahead. "I'm thinking." "Good God...that's gotta hurt." Sighing, Spike placed the popcorn and candy bowls on the table and turned to face me. He placed one hand on the back of the couch and leaned so close that I could feel his breath on my skin...hypo- thetically speaking. "Whatcha thinking about, kitten?" Him. Sex. Stupid bets. How good sex was with him. Stupid, STUPID bets...that I'm probably going to lose...how good he smells...the way his hands feel when they touch my...dammit! With nothing else popping into my head, I fell back on the age-old excuse. "I have to go the bathroom," I announced, leaping to my feet and diving towards the stairs like a startled bunny rabbit with his tail on fire. In the bathroom, I took care of business quickly. As I was standing at the sink washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror at the shower curtain. ****************************** About three months ago, I'd replaced the curtain that had been hanging there since the day Mom and I moved into this house. I had to...since I sort of tore it right off it's rings on my 21st birthday. Of course...Spike was partially responsible for that. I say partially, because even though it was technically my hand that tore it, he's the one who followed me into the bathroom and did the things to me that made me tear it. Still...a girl only turns 21 once. It should be memorable. We were about an hour into the party, and all the guests had arrived, including Spike, who had brought his friend Clem along for the ride. I didn't mind. I like Clem, and I knew Spike needed a friend there...someone besides me. Our physical relationship...just saying those words give me that low down tingle...was still brand new, and we spent the first part of the evening playing the old "We've got a secret" game; the one you play when you and your significant other are the only ones in on it, and you exchange knowing looks and steal fast, hot kisses whenever you can get away with it. Xander and Anya blindsided me, and invited some guy they thought would be good boyfriend material. Like I can just hook up with Joe Normal, even if that's what I wanted in a man! Richard was nice enough, and definitely a cutie, but let's be totally honest....he's not even in the neighborhood of the same ballpark where Spike is. My guy was so jealous. He'll never admit it, but I know a jealous vamp when I see one. At one point, Richard waylaid me in the hall. He tried to make some witty conversation, and even offered to bring me some- thing to drink. Right about the time I was turning the offer down, Spike appeared in the hallway behind the boy and listened to his awkward advances. Of course, true to form, he had to be sarcastic and funny, covering up his insecurities I suppose. "Oohhh, Buffy," he said, sidling down the hall towards me. "Can I get you a soda pop? I think I'm in love." How cute is THAT?!! He reached for me, and I pulled away, still nervous of someone seeing us. But Spike, being Spike, just followed me, and actually put one arm on the wall so that I couldn't get away. Taking my hand, he started to guide it where we both wanted it to go. Unfortunately, Tara stumbled in on us and took all the fun right out of it. I escaped, and trotted upstairs to use the bathroom, listening to his lame explanation as to what had really been going down in the hallway. A muscle cramp? In his pants? I really think he could have done better than that! As I stood in the bathroom, realizing that I didn't really need to go, the door opened and in walked my demon lover. I opened my mouth to tell him to get out...that's just rude, I could have been doing anything!...when he took all the wind out of my, admittedly, flagging sails. Without a word, he grabbed me and hauled me close to him. I started to melt immediately. Well, who wouldn't? Kicking the door shut, he reached over with one hand and locked it. "Is that what you want?" he asked gruffly. "Some stupid little boy to tell you how pretty you are? To hold your hand and look at you with big cow eyes filled with tender devotion? Is it?" He was really pissed! I didn't know what to say, and I really couldn't con- centrate on speaking. He had shoved me up against the wall, and his lower body was grinding into mine. Who can think at a time like that? "I don't think so." He answered his own question, leaning down and whispering it in my ear. "I think you want a man, Slayer. One who knows all the right places to touch you. That's what you need...isn't it?" True. So true. "I can say sweet things, too, you know," he hissed, licking my ear lobe. "I'll tell you how lovely you are...how soft and warm you feel. And then," he added, his mouth traveling over my cheek, "I'll tell you how hot and sexy...and deliciously fuckable you are. How I get hard every time I see you." This was all very, very good. "Leave the little boy alone, Buffy," he growled. "He could never do right by you...not like I can." While my brain was trying to process all this, my body was going haywire. He slipped his hands up under my blouse and shoved my bra up, squeezing my breasts and pinching my nipples. My next move was the result of pure instinct. I slid my own hand down the front of his body and cupped it over the crotch of his jeans. He was incredibly hard and swollen, and I knew I was going to do him right then and there. His mouth...that wonderful and talented mouth...came crashing down on mine. We kissed for what seemed like hours, tongues dueling for control. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter as his hands manipulated my body. I unbuckled and unzipped him, then reached into his pants and took hold of his cock. It was already wet, and I whimpered in my throat at the feel of it. Spike started thrusting into my hand, ramming his hips forward. I played with his dick, fondling it in all the ways I knew he liked best, making it even harder. Then, he'd surprised me. Pulling out of our kiss, he'd hid his face against the side of my neck. "God, I love you," he'd said fiercely. I almost said it back. Actually wanted to say it back. I still don't know why I didn't. Spike had just laughed, shoving his jeans down further. "You don't have to say anything, luv. I know." That remark had confused me for about a second and a half. Then, he'd dropped to his knees and pulled my pants and underwear down, and I forgot about anything else. He'd pushed his head between my thighs, nuzzling and kissing me DOWN THERE. I could feel the juice just pouring out of me, and he lapped it up like melted ice cream. My hearing was a little fuzzy, but I think he'd moaned a bit and said, "Mmm...my girl tastes so sweet. She has the.." licking, licking, licking ..."yummiest little pussy in.." more licking.. "the whole world." His fingers had crept up the back of my legs, squeezing my fanny and then pushing my thighs open further. My clit was throbbing for some serious attention, and he was so very obliging. He'd licked it over and over, until my knees were in danger of giving out. Then, he'd fastened his mouth around it and began applying suction. My head dropped back, cracking against the wall. Needless to say, I'd felt no pain. Spike gives the absolute best oral sex that has ever been given, I guarantee it. Maybe it's because he doesn't need to stop and breathe. And he can go at it for hours, too. Oh, man. Heaven was never like this! My hands had groped around for something to hold onto, and they'd finally landed on his shoulders. Nails digging in, I'd pushed my pelvis forward, wanting him to eat me until I screamed. It's a good thing that he was still somewhat self aware. He'd stood up and spun me around, bending me over the sink. "Quiet, baby," he'd murmured in my ear. "Don't want your new boyfriend to hear you being so fantastically fucked." Modesty, thy name is NOT Spike. I shook my pants off from around one ankle, and widened my stance. Bracing my hands on the sink, I'd turned my head to look at him...and I had to smile. I knew at that point that I am one lucky girl. His blue eyes had been almost black with passion, and his lips were slightly parted. But what I really loved seeing was that he was panting for me. I don't know why, since he doesn't have to, but he was doing it...and it was wildly sexy. "What are you waiting for?" I'd asked him, moving my rear back and rubbing it against him. He grinned devilishly. "Tell me what you want." "I want you, baby," I said. It was the simple truth. Spike loves hearing that sort of thing. He finds it...in- spirational. He had his hands on my hips, holding them in a tight grip as he'd positioned himself and then shoved his erection in me all the way, no stopping, no pausing, no waiting...just all the way in. To this day, I don't know how we kept it so quiet. He'd begun to thrust, developing a steady rhythm. It was a perfect one, not too fast, not too slow. I could feel every hard inch of his cock slide in and out of me...could feel his heavy balls swinging against my rump. My eyes had drifted closed, but he must have been watching my face in the mirror. "Is that good, baby?" he'd asked, sounding a little too pleased with himself. "Do you like it?" Did I LIKE it? Well, duh! "Oh, I love it," I'd moaned, feeding his ego with a spoon. "Feels so good...harder...do it harder." I heard him laugh, but who cared? Leaning forward, he'd pushed me down until I was laying flat on the sink, then lowered himself down on me. And he did it harder...and faster...then slower...then faster again...then even faster...and harder... "Come on, luv," he'd muttered in my ear. "Do it for me. Come for me. Want to feel it on my cock. Feel that tight little pussy clamp down on it...ah, yeah." Master of verbal erotica...that's my boy. By that time, I was whimpering and whining, punctuating with an occasional grunt whenever he really pounded it in hard. I swiveled my hips in counterpoint, wanting his cock in as deeply as it could possibly go. It only took a few more thrusts to send us both over the edge. He'd increased his pace, then sent one hand down and around and rubbed my clit firmly. "Do it now!" he'd ground out. "Come...now...with...me!" Okay.... There were bright lights flashing in my eyes, even though they were still shut tight, and I could swear that I was hearing the ocean in my throbbing ear drums. The heat radiated from my center as I came, slithering out to all the other vital parts of my anatomy. Still, somewhere in my addled brain, I knew I needed something to stifle the scream that was building in my throat. I threw one hand out, groping for the towel hanging on the shower rod. Of course, I missed by a mile, and grabbed the curtain instead. When I'd felt his semen gushing into me, I'd tightened my fist in the plastic curtain and yanked on it. It tore, and the whole thing...curtain rod and all...came crashing to the ground. I'd lost my balance and crashed down with it. Spike, shock- ingly, managed to stay in me as we headed for the floor together. My fuzzy brain had finally cleared, just in time to hear a soft little tap-tap-tapping on the door. "Um...is everything all right in there?" Richard's voice was soft and concerned. Spike had lifted his head and glared, and I knew he was about to yell something like, "Fuck off, Richie!" so I'd clapped one hand over his mouth and answered the question myself, assuring him that everything was as right as the rain, and that I'd be out in a moment. We'd spent a little time enjoying the afterglow, then straightened up the mess we had made and headed back downstairs to join the people who were utterly clueless as to what was happening right above their heads. Getting back to the business of the party, I'd opened the gifts brought for me, still tinglingly aware of Spike's proximity. Willow was so pleased with the massage gadget she'd chosen for me...although how she expected me to carry it around on patrols I do not know...that she'd prattled on something about "instant gratification". Unable to stop myself, I'd glanced at Spike. We knew something about instant gratification. When his eyes had met mine, he'd arched one brow in a suggestive manner that made me want to boot everyone else out of the house and gratify myself a little bit more. ****************************** I knew I couldn't very well hang out in the bathroom for the rest of the night, so I flicked off the light and trudged back downstairs. Spike was waiting for me, and when I plopped down beside him, he un-paused the movie. We sat in silence for a while, making a dent in the bowl of candy. When poor little Nemo got flushed down the john, Spike turned to look at me. "You weren't cheating up there, were you, luv?" I knew what he meant, and my face turned bright red, making me look guilty even though I wasn't. Swallowing my embarrassment, I looked him right in the eye. "No, I wasn't cheating. I don't need to. Doing just fine, thanks all the same. No problems at all. Not a one. Uh-uh. No, sir." Talk about overkill! Spike chuckled and returned his attention to the movie. "You can't bluff for shit, Buffy." I know. Believe me, I know. TBC... Next...Part seven: Another Card Drawn

Part seven: Another Card Drawn Since my strategy for using it as bait backfired, my period is just the same old bloody nuisance it's always been...so to speak. Willpower boy...also known as Spike, the most aggravating vampire ever to suck a neck...is slowly but surely winning this bet. I haven't begged yet, but I have a strong suspicion that it won't be long. And when THAT day comes.... Oh, well. I suppose there's always the consolation prize. Once it's done, we can go back to doing the things we do best together. I really don't understand why this is happening. I know I started it, but it wasn't supposed to go the way it's going. Spike is...as he once put it...my willing slave, ready to do anything I ask short of sunbathing on the beaches of Waikiki. So, what's the deal? Did abolition come along without my noticing it? Has someone cloned Lincoln, and if they did, who said he could free MY slave? Well, if it's war he wants, it's war he's gonna get! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I opened the door and gave him my most dazzling Pepsodent smile. He returned it as he walked in, then he raised his head and got a good whiff of the air. "You cooking something?" Ha! Wouldn't HE like to know? "Yeah, I felt like baking cookies," I said. "Peanut butter chocolate chip." His eyes lit up! "My favorite." I know. He followed me into the kitchen and stood next to me watching as I measured and stirred, giving him an occasional crack across the knuckles with a wooden spoon when he stole chocolate chips out of the bag. I took every opportunity to brush up against him 'accidentally on purpose'. Handing him the spoon, I instructed him to stir while I added more chips. There was another bag of them on his right, and I had to reach past him to get my hot little hands on it. I extended my arm...giggling madly in my own fevered brain...pressing my breasts against him. The Rock of Gibraltar just kept stirring. For my next trick, I opened the bag of chips...with my teeth! This time, I got a small reaction. His eyes looked into mine, then dropped to watch me tear the top off the bag. His lips parted slightly. I SAID it was a small reaction, didn't I? He glanced down at the bowl, pronouncing the dough as fully mixed. "Okay, now we add the chips!" I said perkily, a junior Julia Child. "Hold the bowl and keep stirring." As I dumped the chips in, I made my next move. "You know what the best part is, don't you?" "Best part of what?" he wanted to know. Duh! "Of baking cookies. The best part is eating bites of the dough." "Is that a fact?" I nodded. "When I was a kid, I ate more cookie dough than my mom ever baked." Dipping my forefinger into the bowl, I scooped up a glob of dough, then stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked it off. I could almost hear the 'gulp' as he swallowed. "Want a taste?" I inquired, the very essence of casual. My finger went back in the bowl and came out adorned with sticky goodness that I offered to him. I thought I had him for a moment. His head dipped just a tiny bit... And THEN...that miserable, irritating, low down, scurvy, rotten to the core, lousy, STUPID vampire...scooped the dough off my finger and onto his. He then transferred it to his mouth without so much as a nibble of me! "Hey, you're right," he said agreeably. "It's tasty this way...unbaked and all." Sometimes I really...really...hate him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The cookie sheets are in the bottom cabinet. They haven't ALWAYS been in the bottom cabinet. I put them there before Spike showed up. Instead of kneeling, I bent from the waist so's he could take a look at my faded denim covered ass. Then...when I straightened up...I did it in a way that would give him the opportunity to look down the front of my blouse. When I was vertical once again, I came close to whacking him across the head with the cookie sheet. The idiot wasn't even looking in my direction! He was leaning on the counter, paging through Fannie Farmer's Guide to Better Baking!! The word ARRGGHHH reverberated in my brain. "Something wrong, luv?" Oh, hell no. What could POSSIBLY be wrong with this picture? Essence! Casual! Help! "No, everything's peachy. Side of keen." "Right, then." His voice was all brisk and helpful. "What do you want me to do?" **You know goddamn well what I want you to do! I want you to throw in your towel...scream "I can't take it anymore!" Clear off the counter with one sweep of your hand and lift me up on it...rip my clothes off...kiss me and touch me all over...lay me down...unzip your pants and take out that great, big....** "Drop teaspoons of dough onto the pan and stick it right in the...oven."

Part eight: Ante Up! I've gotta give Spike credit. I never thought he could hold out this long. The guy must be taking a lot of really cold showers. I know this, because I'VE been taking a lot of them. God, I haven't been this sexually frustrated since my 'Riley' days. And here I was, thinking that little problem was behind me forever. After all, since I fell for Spike, I haven't had one moment of dissatisfaction. In fact, I've never been so totally satisfied. That's why this stupid bet is so damn tough on me. My love life up until Spike had been a series of mistakes. Catastrophic (Angel)...embarrassing (Parker)...stupid (Riley) mistakes. In the beginning, there was Angel. The guy my dopey sixteen year old brain said was 'The One'. He was sweet and gentle with me, and very protective. I was crazy about him. Problem: The minute we got horizontal, it was "Goodbye, Angel" and "Hello, Angelus". Talk about your split personalities! Angelus was vicious and violent, a murdering psychopath, and I'll be sorry till my dying day that I didn't dust him when I had the chance...before he killed Jenny Calendar. Maybe, if that had never happened, Giles would still be here. Well, it's all water under the bridge now. Suffice it to say that Angel and I weren't as "meant to be" as we'd once thought. What can I say? I was young. ****************************** My second wrong turn on the freeway of love was Parker Abrams. Actually, he was more like a broken down car blocking the high speed lane and causing traffic jams in the lives of innocent drivers. A nice enough looking guy, brimming with sensitivity, and all the integrity of a smarmy used car salesman. Still, the whole mess was really my fault. I don't know what I was thinking, climbing into bed with a guy I barely knew. I pretty much deserved what happened the next day. That was, without a doubt, the most humiliating confrontation I've ever had with a guy. I still duck and hide if I happen to spot him anywhere around town. Spike offered to kill him for me, but I had to pass. I halfway considered it, but I figured that chip in his head would likely blow a fuse. Killing Parker isn't worth losing Spike. So, romance wise, I was O for 2. Then, Riley came along. Big...handsome...hunky...not too bright Riley. Another monumental fiasco. Oh, it was all fun and games at first. Nice little dates. Movies, picnics, walks on the beach, blah, blah, blah...and I do mean blah. I worked like hell to land him, then once I did...I didn't much want him anymore. As I once told him, he was quite the regimental soldier. Early to bed, early to rise and all that crap. Everything was done on schedule. Meals were eaten at the same time every day, and boy howdy, make sure you're getting the recommended daily allowance of every vitamin from A to Z. After the relationship went south, I was about ready for someone to stick a warning label on me. There just didn't seem to be any chance of finding a man that I really wanted, and that would fit into my unorthodox life. Then, I took a good long look at the resident pain-in-my- ass vampire...and I noticed a few things that I'd been missing. Things like...how good looking he is. And sexy. And funny. And really sexy. Stubbornly loyal...protective...amazingly gentle when he wants to be...and did I mention, sexy? That's my boy. And he really is mine, too. This bet is just a bump in the road. When it comes down to the brass tacks, no matter what either one of us says to the contrary, I'm his and he's mine. I'm gonna have to tell him that one of these days. Sooner than later, if he has his way! ****************************** "You did that on purpose," I complained, picking my wet shirt away from my skin. Spike didn't answer, just kept wiping yellow goop off his coat sleeves. "That was one of those demons that Giles turned into once, right?" I had to keep griping. It's sort of my job. "Fyarl demon," he said, making a disgusted face. Yeah, I remembered that now. Back when Giles got screwed over by Ethan Rayne, I hadn't bothered to find out too much about this particular brand of demon. All I remembered was that it was strong and you needed silver to kill it. Of course, nobody bothered to clue me in about their sinus problems. "You could have said something BEFORE he sneezed!" "Look, stop bellyaching," Spike said curtly. "We've gotta wash this crap off now, before it sets. Got any bright ideas, Slayer?" There was only one possibility. The closest available body of water was in the middle of the memorial park. It's a fountain, dedicated to all the men and women from Sunnydale that had died in the service of the country, donated by Roberto Callaveri. He's the closest thing this town has to a millionaire. He had the fountain built back in 1944, after his oldest son was shot down on the road to Rome. The whole family was Italian, born and bred, and emigrated to the states during the twenties. After the war, none of them ever went back to Italy. So, he had this fountain built, and it's huge. Gorgeous white marble, the size of a swimming pool. In the middle, there's this angel, and she's got her wings outstretched to shelter the figures of the young soldiers. The water shoots up in a cascade behind her, and when the sun hits it just right during the day, you'll see rainbows. ****************************** We each went to one side of the fountain, cut off from view by the figures in the middle. I stripped off my clothes and washed all the Fyarl snot out of them. Not that I'm ever planning to wear them again because, yuck! But I need something to get home in. Over the splashing of the fountain, I could hear Spike singing something. I put my wet clothes back on and sloshed around to the other side, and....oh, god! Those rainbows that you can see during the day are nothing compared to what I'm seeing in the moonlight. Naked vampire. Beautifully naked vampire. He's striding around like he's playing in a pool, kicking up big splashes. The cold water doesn't seem to be bothering him one bit. He turned his back and walked over to stand beneath the cascade. Tilting his head back, he let the water shower down over him, washing away all the remnants of Fyarl. I swear...he could be the inspiration for a statue. Standing there like that, the water sluicing down his skin, his muscles gleaming in the bluish light.... "Getting yourself a nice long look, Slayer?" Huh? What? He's standing there, grinning at me, shaking the water out of his hair. "What's the matter baby?" he asked, glancing down at his...im- pressive...equipment. "You missing this?" He punctuated the question by pushing his hips forward a little. Yeah. Yeah, I really am missing it. Badly. "You can have it, you know." His voice was deep and husky as he walked toward me, kicking up water. "All you have to do is say that I win the bet." Well, if THAT'S all.... "Come on, babe," he coaxed me. "You can do it. Say the words, and I'll make love to you all night long." And that's no idle boast. He can do exactly what he said. All...night...long. "Say it, Buffy. I want you to say it." Hell's bells! I WANT to say it, I really do. But if I do...if I lose this bet...then tomorrow I'll have to..... Feet...don't fail me now! I can hear him laughing at me as I run.

AN: Remember the drinking contest in 'Life Serial'? Well, it never happened. Part nine: Ace In The Hole This isn't funny anymore. I wish someone would invent a time machine. With all the other stuff they're coming up with, you have to wonder what the frigging hold up is. I need one badly. If I could lay my hands on one, I could go back a few nights and duct tape my mouth shut before taking on this miserable bet. Every day I feel a little more worn away. It's like being nibbled to death by ducks. But I'm not ready to give up yet. If there's one thing I'm not, it's a quitter. I'm also the stubbornest person on the face of the earth. Spike doesn't put it that way. He says I'm "irritatingly obstinate...bull headed to a level that doesn't exist for other people...unable to see anyone else's point of view...head strong beyond the telling of it" and a whole bunch of other five dollar words like, "obdurate, intract- able, recalcitrant, tenacious, inflexible, and immovable." He always see the glass as half empty. I prefer to think of myself as persistent, resolute, purposeful, and unshakable. It just sounds better. But anyway you slice it, my stubbornness is taking a real pounding. I just know that soon my body is going to stage a revolution and kick my brain out of office. Take last night for instance.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After the 'cookie baking' incident, I'd taken a long bath and reassessed my position. The only possible reason for my failure, so I'd figured, was that chocolate chip cookies are just too wholesome to plan a successful seduction around. I mean, really...who equates cookies with sex? Well...I do. But that's just because I'm equating every- thing with sex ever since I stopped getting any. And I DO mean everything. Washing dishes, I squirted out a glob of Ivory into the running water and for the first time ever I noticed that the spurts of white soap looked a hell of a lot like the stuff a certain vampire produces when I give him a hand job. While grocery shopping, I see penis'...peni?...everywhere I look. Bananas, cucumbers, dill pickles, popsicles, chocolate eclairs, and don't even get me started on the kielbasa. Around the house? Yeah, there, too. A turkey baster, a rolling pin, candles, the pepper grinder, my stakes, even my electric TOOTHBRUSH for god sakes! I can't even just sit in my room and listen to the damn radio. The minute I switch it on, I hear 'Let's Get It On' and 'You Shook Me All Night Long'. I change stations and hear, 'Let's Make Love' and 'Get mine/Get Yours'. I switch it again and have to listen to 'Big Ten Inch Record' and 'A Piece of Your Action' and 'She Goes Down'...which REALLY drives me nuts! Then there's the "Do Me/Do It" songs. 'Do Me Baby', 'Do Me Baby ALL Night Long', 'COME Do Me', 'The WAY You Do Me', 'Do It', Do It To Me One More Time,' and the always popular and about as subtle as a shovel in in the back of the head, 'Why Don't We Do It In The Road?' I can't tell a clean joke to save my life. I tried to come up with one I could tell Dawn during breakfast and all I could remember was the one about the bride and groom on their wedding night. The bride's a virgin and she's really shy about "doing it", and isn't sure she really wants to. So, her husband says, "Got an idea. If you want to have sex, pull my dick once. If you DON'T want to have sex, pull it fifty or sixty times." Ba-da-boom. Then there's the one about Jack and Mary. They work in the same office, but times are hard and the boss has to let one of them go. So, he calls Mary in and says, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have lay you or Jack off. She thinks it over and says, "Could you please jack off? I have a rotten head- ache." You may be wondering where I learn such jokes. Take a wild guess. I think about sex during the day and I dream about it at night, which doesn't surprise me...I mean, if I was hungry I'd be dreaming about food, wouldn't I? ******* So, cookies are out. Also out are ice cream sundaes, macaroni and cheese, pudding, apple pie and meat loaf. Lovely comfort food, but hardly seductive. Well...maybe the pudding. If food is out, what's next on the agenda? Obviously the answer is drink. Not milk, orange juice, or root beer floats, either. No, I'm talking about alcohol. Hard liquor. Strong spirits. Demon rum. What makes people drop their guard faster than a little of the hard stuff? A lot of the hard stuff. Which is what I'll need. Being a vampire, Spike has a strong tolerance for alcohol. I've seen him polish off enough beer to float a battleship in the high seas...then follow it up with a few shots of Jack Daniels...and never even slur his words a bit. The problem is, if I invite him over and ply him with booze, he'll shut me down fast. There's really only one way to do it. Another challenge. Challenge Spike to a drinking contest? One of these days, I'm gonna have to get my head examined. ******* I got home from the liquor store around six. Luck was with me, and Dawn was invited to spend the weekend at her best friends house. Things got even better when I'd noticed that the sky was clouding up. By the time Spike arrived for patrol, if anyone up there was still on my side, it would be raining like hell. Spike hates the rain. Ever since he took over Giles' condo and rediscovered how pleasant it is to live in water- tight accommodations. He says if he wanted to be cold and damp, he'd have stayed in his "bloody crypt". It wouldn't be hard to keep him here. I'd pulled a bottle out of the bag and examined the label: Craganmore Single Malt Scotch The stuff is twelve years old, and it costs an arm and a leg! Thank god for credit cards. The owner of the liquor store actually kept it in a locked cabinet in his cellar. He'd promised me that it's one of the best, then gave me a lesson on the origin of Scots and Irish Whiskey that had me tapping my foot to stay awake. Apparently, sometime in the 12th century, some alchemist or other discovered that distilling the mash of grains like rye and barley could produce a tasty little drink. The Gaelic word for it was "Woosk'akei", which meant "the water of health". The Scots shortened it to "whiskey". Up until a few years ago, most of the Scotch whiskey consumed was blended. People mostly felt that unblended malt Scotch whiskey was distilled by and meant to be drunk by those strong and burly highlanders. (You can add a certain vamp I know to that select group. Talk about a constitution!) The old guy threw around terms like "full bodied" and "well- balanced" , with "a honey like sweetness on the palate". Opening the bottle, I'd taken a whiff. Honey like? Yeah. Right. I'd dumped a tiny amount in the sink to make it look like I had the bottle just laying around, then stuck it in the back of the pantry. On the top shelf of the cabinet over the sink, I'd located a couple of shot glasses and rinsed them out, then put them back. After that, there wasn't much to do but wait. And get nervous. Fortunately for me, Spike is reasonably prompt. When he promises to be somewhere at a certain time, he nearly always is. At five past seven, the doorbell rang. I'm gonna have to give him a key. ******* "Is it raining?" I'd sounded way too delighted, and he'd given me a suspicious look. "Not yet, but it's about to" he'd replied. "You want to get a patrol in, we'd best go now." Nooooooo!!! That wasn't part of the battle plan. Don't wanna patrol! Wanna win this bet and get laid! If it doesn't happen soon, I'm not going to be as pleasant as I usually am. Yes, I have a battle plan. Got it all written down on a neat little sheet of paper, too. I call it 'Operation: Win the Damn Bet!!' Two exclamation points. The battles we've fought over this so far have just been little skirmishes. I'm itching for a real good tussle. My uniform consisted of a pair of white sweat pants and a pink cashmere sweater. Soft and silky to touch. He likes that sort of thing. It's not the sexiest thing I own, but it's comfortable and loose fitting, easy for him to get his hand up under or down into. I'd shrugged as casually as I could. "Maybe we should just skip it tonight. Any vamps with half a brain aren't gonna be trotting around in the rain." He'd shot me a look that said "Thanks ever so," but he'd been happy enough to stay in. Then, he'd totally floored me with his next comment. "So...you're looking awfully delectable tonight, little girl." Well! I'd surely liked the sound of that! Then, he'd ruined it. "You look like you're just about ready to cave in and beg. Are you, love? Do you want your Spike to make you scream the house down, right here and now?" Inside, I'd whimpered, "yes...." "Hell, no!" I'd said loudly. "Like I said before...I will always beat you at anything we do. Always. Every...single...time!" He'd tossed his jacket down on the chair and gave me that "you're full of shit" look. "Is that a fact?" "That's a fact, baby. I can out-slay you, out-wait you, out-drink you, and...." "Hang on a second, slaybelle..." Isn't that cute? "...there's no way in hell you will EVER be able to out- drink me. You are the biggest light weight I've ever seen." "Oh yeah?" I'd asked, a little pugnaciously. "Well, I've got nothing better to do tonight. Let's see who's still left standing." He'd laughed....HE'D FUCKING LAUGHED AT ME! Oh, this was SO on! I'd scampered out to the kitchen and came back with the shot glasses and the scotch. A bit of my pride came back when he'd admired my selection, and I'd told him that it was the sort of scotch I always preferred. Problem: I'd never tasted the stuff in my life. My alcohol preferences ran more to fruity tasting drinks with little paper umbrellas and some produce hanging on the rim of the glass. I'd gotten a sniff when I'd opened the bottle, and it nearly made the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. Still...desperate times and all that. We'd made ourselves comfortable in the front room. I set the glasses on the coffee table and he'd poured the first shots. 'Through the teeth and over the gums, look out stomach here it comes' I'd chanted in my head, adding my own postscript. 'Please don't send it right back up.' Well, it hadn't...but just barely. ******* "Bleaahhggg." I'd shuddered and shaked from top to toe. He'd smiled at me like I was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, then tossed his shot down without turning a hair. "Another?" he'd asked. "Another," I'd replied, after I'd cleared my throat. He'd refilled the glasses and waited for me. "Bleeaahhggh." It was the foulest tasting thing I'd ever put in my mouth, but I did it. Then, Mr. Smooth tossed his down like it was lemonade. Four more times we'd performed the little ceremony. I started getting a little light headed with the third one. By the time I got to the sixth one, I was flying high! Oh, man did I feel good! So good, I almost forgot my purpose. "You having fun, kitten?" he'd asked, giving me another one of those too cute for words grins. God, I'm nuts about him. "Oh, shiiiiit, yeah!" I'd announced. "I should have tried this a loooooong time ago." "Mm-hmm," he'd said skeptically, refilling my glass. My seventh shot went down pretty smoothly. I was actually proud of myself. Of course, I'd started acting a little silly, but....who fucking cared? "Know what?" I'd said, leaning in close. "What, baby?" "There's something I been meaning to tell you for a reaaallly long time." I'd giggled. "D'ya wanna know what it is? Huh? Do ya?" "If you want to tell me," had been his reply. "You're really cute," I think at this point that I was simpering. "I always thought so....ya know?" Oh, God...the smile on his face just made my head spin. Okay, maybe it was the scotch. "You're really cute, too," he'd said, scooting a little closer to me. My soused brain sensed that victory was at hand. It was time. Time to tell him everything he'd been wanting to hear. I was absolutely ready to do it, to stop all this game playing and pussyfooting around. Time to come clean about my feelings...my love...for him. I'd picked up my glass. "Spike...I got one more thing to tell you," I'd said, then tossed back my eighth shot. I don't remember anything after that.

Part ten: Dealer Takes All Sometime around five a.m., I woke up and found myself on the couch, a blanket draped over me like a corpse. Spike was nowhere to be seen, and the first thing my bloodshot eyes focused on was the damn scotch bottle that had put me to sleep. I felt like hammered shit, all sticky and gooey. My hair was matted down, and my skin was oily and dirty from smeary, unremoved make up. My mouth felt like I'd been chewing cotton balls and I was pretty sure my breath could close the Hellmouth permanently. Picking up the empty bottle, I eyed the thing with pure hatred, blaming it for my current predicament. My only revenge was to drop it in the trash can from eye level. I was hoping for a nice, satisfying shatter, but all I got was a hollow thump that reverberated in my head like a gong. I managed to drag my ass upstairs and into the shower, no easy task. When I had the water as hot as I could stand it, I inched under the pounding stream. For ten minutes, I stood there, getting hit full in the face by the rushing water and hoping it would clear my fuzzy head. After I washed my hair, I grabbed a bottle of bath gel and applied it liberally, scrubbing until my brain functions kicked back in. So, where do I go now? He's wearing me down. Slowly but surely, he's resisting every trick in my bag, and I don't exactly have an unending supply. Sooner or later, something's got to give. Probably, me. Any minute now the men in the white coats will come to take me away to the 'Home For Sexually Frustrated Slayers, and Other Assorted Fruitcakes'. However...I'm not quite ready to surrender just yet. Another less than brilliant idea is out there somewhere, and by golly I WILL find it! At least I'm beginning to feel a little better. The hot water on my body is definitely helping, and the soap smells good. Rose scented. His favorite. Hmmph! Too bad he isn't here. I MIGHT be persuaded to let him use it on me. Showers can be very sensuous when you're sharing them with the right person. There's just something about wet, slippery skin and scented soap that makes you want to.... Oh, hello! Okay, regroup! Subtle seduction hadn't worked. The 'cookie dough' debacle was proof of that. Slightly more blatant seduction had back- fired as well...although, to be fair...it had never had it's chance. Still, a failure is a failure. As I see it, there's only one direction left to go; Full out...point blank...no holds barred...no punches pulled...no shadow of a doubt...come and get it, big boy....teasing. The kind no man, alive or undead, can resist. Well, I'm feeling hopeful once again. Hot showers really are marvelous inventions. You can do a lot of heavy thinking in a shower and I wouldn't be surprised to find out that most of the marvels of the modern age were dreamed up in one. With any luck at all, the next time I'm in this shower, I'll have company. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm planning a long night of strenuous activity. I don't want to sound greedy, but I've been waiting long enough to build up a lot of anticipation and creative ideas as to what Spike and I will be doing after I win this bet. It's amazing the things a person can come up with when they spend so much time alone in bed NOT sleeping. There are arrangements, and positions, and scenarios that I can't blast out of my head with dynamite. I lie on my back and stare up at the ceiling as though there's a movie screen permanently attached to it, trying not to go slightly mad. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Since I'm plotting a marathon sexual encounter, and being fully aware that good sex always makes us hungry, I need to hit the supermarket. Wandering through the aisles of Safeway, I loaded my cart with butcher's blood, eggs, bacon, pancake mix, muffins, and three different kinds of heavily sweetened breakfast cereal. This time, his sugar rush is going to be working to MY advantage. I added milk, orange juice, hot chocolate, and flavored coffee. A loaf of french bread, strawberry jam, and orange marmalade went into the basket, and I finished up with a carton of heavy cream and a bag of miniature marsh- mellows. Can't think of another thing I might need, but I have the market on speed dial and cash on hand to compensate their fastest delivery boy. There's no need for a special wardrobe. All I require is a nice, fluffy bath towel and my pink silk robe, the one that clings revealingly when I'm damp from the shower. I did make a brief pit stop at Victoria's Secret for more scented bath soap and lotion. **Throw in a loofah and a couple of soft sponges while you're at it, Victoria. This is going to be a shower to remember.** This shower will be the one by which all future showers are judged for comparison. I'll never take another with- out remembering this one. It will move the earth...pull back the tides...blaze like a comet through the... Okay, I know I sound ridiculous. It's a shower. Hot water, soap, and...with a little luck...a shower buddy you have to see to believe. Just the thought of Spike naked and wet is turning me on, making my pulse rate gallop at an alarming pace. His muscles, slippery with soap, just made for my hands to travel over. His chest, sprinkled with drops of water for me to lick off. His soap slick hands on my breasts, sliding down over my hips...down...down...down... This had better work. If not, I may as well "Get me to a nunnery....pronto!" As Shakespeare said....mostly. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tonight is my final assault. I've decided that. No matter which way it goes, I'm not doing this another day. This is going to be the last battle. And if I win the battle, I can't help but win the war. I've done everything I can in preparation. The groceries are all tucked away, I've put fresh flowers in the vases, and I have a nice little fire burning merrily away in the living room. Soft music is playing on the stereo. The lamp on my bedside table is on low, and I've diffused the light a bit more by draping a silk scarf over the lead crystal globe. Seven weeks ago, when Willow and Tara moved into their own place, I decided to take over my mom's old room. Dawn's room was getting too cramped for her, and she's been begging to have mine for ages. So one fine afternoon, the two of us paid a visit to the local Home Depot. We bought paint and wallpaper, and all the supplies needed to redecorate both rooms. Then, we nagged Xander into doing all the work for us while we went shopping for new bedding. By the time my new bedroom was ready, I'd replaced the rug and taken down the questionable pieces of art work my mom had hanging on her walls, replacing them with prints by some of my favorite artists. I bought new drapes, and a new mattress. My comforter is an eggshell colored eyelet lacy confection. Very feminine. I got little matching throw pillows and a dust ruffle, too. I kept most of the other furniture, except for an ugly armchair mom used when she mended our torn clothes. I didn't mind having and using the oak armoire and dresser, or the cheval mirror...but the armchair had too many memories, and it made me too sad to see it sitting empty all the time. One of the best parts of having the largest bedroom is the attached bath. It's so nice not to have to walk down the hall wrapped in a towel. leaving wet footprints on the carpet, because a pesky little sister is pounding on the door screaming for you to hurry up, cause she has to GOOOO!! That attached bath is going to come in awfully handy to- night. Timing is essential. I have to actually be IN the shower when he gets here, but almost finished so he'll feel obliged to wait and not get the bright idea to come back later. I don't want my hair all wet and droopy, so I'll pin it up. Dripping wet hair isn't my idea of sexy, in bed or out, so I fluffed my bangs a little and tugged a couple of strands out of my chignon to give me the look I'm after. I washed my face and applied a little waterproof mascara and a smidgen of light pink lip gloss. The steam from the hot water would flush my cheeks a little, and if it's not enough, I can always give them a pinch. I checked the clock for the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes, then stripped down to my skin and wrapped a towel around myself to keep from freezing my ass off while I wait. If he's late tonight, I'm really going to kill him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I left the front door unlocked and when I heard it swing open, I jumped into the shower and began to lather up. "Buffy?" I can't answer yet. He's gotta think I can't hear him, so he'll come upstairs. "Yo! Slayer!" I feel like I'm leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to coax a squirrel into a trap. But at least it's a working trap. He's on the stairs. "Hi, Spike! I'm in the shower!" "Yeah, I guessed. Shall I come round later, then?" "NO!" Calm...calm...settle down. "I'm almost done. Just wait for me." "Take your time, pet." Oh, I intend to. "Spike!" There was no answer. Maybe he can't hear me. No, that's not it. Vampire hearing is acute. "Hey! Spike?!" "What?" "Where are you?" "Halfway down the stairs. Why?" "Can you come up here for a minute? I need to tell you something." "I can hear you from here." Great. Just peachy. "What did you say, Spike?" "I said I can hear you just fine from here." "Well, I can't hear you hardly at all! Can't you come in the bedroom?" There was slight pause. I KNOW what he's thinking. "All right, then. I'm right by the bedroom door. What do you want?" Such a question.... "Look, I still can't hear you over the water running!" "Well, you said you were nearly done. Can't it wait?" Yes, I DID say that, didn't I? I can't stay in here much longer. I told him I was nearly done and my skin is beginning to get waterlogged, and it's pretty obvious he ain't coming in. So, it's on to my contingency plan...and I DO have one. I never go anywhere without my handy contingency plan. I turned the water off and wrapped myself in my sexy robe. "Spike? You still there?" "Course I'm still here. Wouldn't leave without telling you." "Could you do me a favor?" "Sure, babe, what do you need?" Him and his loaded questions! "Is my purse on the couch?" I'm still yelling. "Yeah...." He drawls it out, like he knows what's next. "I need my hairbrush out of it. Can you bring it up here?" There's another pause, then he says, "I don't feel right pawing around in your purse, luv. Don't you have another..." "Then just bring it here," I shout, cutting off any suggestion that I look around in my bathroom drawer for one of the seven or eight hairbrushes I have there. I can hear him climbing the stairs. I quickly loosen the sash of my robe, exposing some cleavage..... "Here you go, pet." ...and can only stand and stare in disbelief as my purse comes sailing through my bedroom door and makes a neat landing smack in the middle of my bed. Curses...foiled again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Okay. The gloves are coming off. No more 'Miss Nice Slayer'. I tightened the sash on my robe and marched downstairs to confront my irritating, smart mouthed, demon lover.

Part eleven: And The Winner Is...? Well, there'll be no living with him now! But, as the old song goes..."You gotta know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em." Those words keep running through my mind while I lie in bed waiting for pancakes and strawberries. There's something deliciously decadent about breakfast in bed. First, there's the working up of the appetite, then there's the appeasing of said appetite. It's all great fun, let me tell you. Last night was great fun, too. I'm soooo much more relaxed. ************************************************************************** I'd been pissed as hell as I'd marched down the stairs, unable to believe he'd found a way to circumvent me once again. All my plans, all my carefully constructed plans, just went pffft! He was standing in the front room when I'd hit the bottom step, and he'd actually backed away a couple of feet when he saw my face. "What's wrong with you?" he'd asked. I couldn't take it anymore. I cracked. "Get out of here!" I'd hollered at him. "Get out! Get out of my house and don't ever come back! Ever! Go! Now!" He'd had the nerve to look surprised. "What's eating you?" he'd demanded, staying just out of hitting range. "What did I do now?" I was breathing so hard that my chest was heaving up and down, a fact he definitely noticed. "Stop staring at me like that!" I'd yelled. Okay, I was slightly irrational, I admit. I'd had my hands on my hips as I'd paced him around the room, he backing away as I advanced. "You are an inconsiderate pig! Look me in the eye when I'm yelling at you!" "Look, Buffy," he'd said quickly, raising his hands in what I guess he thought was a 'calm down and lets talk about this like two fairly rational people' gesture, "I don't have a clue as to why you've suddenly gone round the bend, but I'm willing to listen if you'll just...settle down." I didn't want to settle down. "I don't WANT to settle down!" I'd shouted, stamping my foot....which was a mistake, because it hurt. "I want to...I want to KILL you, that's what I want to do!" "But why, luv?" he'd asked, neatly putting the dining table between us. "Tell me what I did. Ain't exactly fair for you to have all the information when my life's the one on the line." "You didn't DO anything!" That was the problem. "You're just...just here!" "Here?" he'd asked, looking mightily confused. "Here...in the house? You're mad because I'm here?" "Yes!" I know I was sounding like a deranged lunatic but I hadn't been able to help it. Frustration had finally pushed me over the ledge I'd been teetering on for days. "I don't want you here! Never...ever...again!" "Buffy, come on..." Then, I'd said it. I didn't mean to say it, but it came flying out of my mouth anyway. Something I hadn't said to him in years, something guaranteed to hurt. "I hate you!" I knew right away just exactly what I had done when I saw his expression change before my eyes. The look on his face was identical to the one I'd seen when he'd discovered that I'd had Willow revoke his invitation into my house. My hand had flown up to cover my big mouth, but of course it was too late. He'd backed away a step or two, then turned around and walked towards the front door. I'd expected him to keep on walking after pulling it open, but he'd paused and turned back to me. "You sure about this, Slayer? If I go now...I'm not coming back. For real, this time." My brain couldn't even begin to process the notion of Spike leaving and never coming back. It was such an absurd idea that my mind rejected it utterly and shut down for a moment. Then, he'd turned around and walked out the door. Fortunately, my brain switched back on and I'd remembered what my feet were for. By the time I'd reached the doorway, he was almost to the sidewalk. I'd run out onto the porch and watched him go. Well, I had to stop him, didn't I? So, I did the only thing I could think of. "Spike!" I'd yelled after him. "I...I love you!" He must have thought of me as very insane. First "I hate you!", then "I love you?" Yeah, I'd said it. Finally. Right out there in front of....well, in front of nobody, but I still SAID it. And it sounded good. So, I'd said it again. "I love you." It worked. He'd stopped. He'd turned. He'd been smiling. "I know." So...when you meet halfway, does that count as a tie? ************************************************************************* Spike nudged the bedroom door open with his shoulder and brought my breakfast tray in. As I scooted up in bed, he placed the tray over my lap, then sat down. "Someone's a hungry girl this morning," he observed, watching me make quite the little pig of myself. "Best be careful, luv. Remember how tight your pants are." "Oh, shut-up," I replied with a wave of my hand. "My man likes to see a little meat on my bones." "He does, indeed." Spike watched as I drizzled syrup over the pancakes. "Anyway," I said, "I can't resist. Who knew you were such a good cook?" He laughed a little. "Doesn't take a lot of skill to fix microwave pancakes." We sat there for a while, not saying much of anything. It was a perfectly comfortable silence, and when I.was finished, he set the tray on the floor and moved a little closer. I know what's coming.... "I fulfilled my end of the wager, luv," he said, smiling wickedly. "Now it's your turn." There will be no getting around it. This I know. Believe me, I've tried. *********************************************************************** I'm not sure which one of us moved first, but we came together in the middle of the lawn. Needless to say, we were all over each other like a cheap suit. It didn't take long before my head was spinning clean off my shoulders. Finally...after an eternity...things were going my way. Spike's hands moved restlessly up and down my back as we kissed. Those hands knew every last inch of my body in- timately, and he used that knowledge to seduce me into a state of mindless abandon. I'm not kidding! My mind was gone. A.W.O.L. It had to be, because I'd been ready to do him right there on the front lawn. Boy, THAT would give the neighbors something to talk about at the next pot luck dinner. He'd broken our kiss, and I'd used the opportunity to drag a little oxygen into my lungs for the next round. "You naked under that robe, Slayer?" "Stark." "Gonna let me see?" "Gonna let you do more than see." We did a little more kissing, and I couldn't keep myself from bumping and grinding against him. His hands had moved down over my butt and squeezed me. I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him, and he carried me back into the house. With a well placed kick of one size 13 combat boot, he closed the front door so hard that the windows rattled. I was a little surprised when he didn't take me right upstairs to my bedroom. Instead, he pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Well?" he wanted to know. "Well, what?" Oh, I KNOW "well, what?" "Are you begging?" he persisted. Not if I can help it! "Why don't YOU beg?" I suggested. He thought about it for a minute. "At the same time?" That seemed reasonable. "Okay." "On three, then. One...two...three." Hoping to get out on a technicality, I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to say it first. But, apparently, he was reading my mind and he said nothing either. "Hey!" I complained. "You didn't say it!" "Well, neither did you." "Okay, this is getting stupid." "Tell you what, luv. Why don't we just consider it said and go upstairs to play?" So that's what we did. ********************************************************************* "How badly is it gonna hurt?" "You're the slayer. You can take it." Yeah, I probably can, but I like to milk my little aches and pains with him. He takes such good care of me afterwards. For a demon, Spike is surprisingly nurturing with the people he cares about. I've always thought he'd make a good father. "You know, a diamond ring will send the same message." My suggestion cuts no ice with him. "That'll come later," he assured me. "It'll be expensive," I informed him. "I want a great, big one." "I can afford it, luv." He can, too. Guess which 'bloody awful poet' recently dis- covered a talent for writing fiction? Not that it's actually fiction, but his publisher thinks it is. Yep...he's writing his life story. The first part of which hit the New York Times bestseller list about three minutes after it was published. Mother always wanted me to marry a man with the means to support me in a manner to which it's easy to become accustomed. I don't think she had a vampire in mind, but no one's perfect. "You'd best get ready to go." How can he be so calm? Oh, yeah.....because it's me. Spike being calm. That's an oxymoronish type thing. He wasn't calm last night, though..... ********************************************************************** He set me on my feet and turned to close the door. Quietly, as though there was someone in the house besides the two of us that might overhear and come on the run. Then he turned around and started across the floor, shedding his coat as he came. He didn't stop until he had me pressed up the wall. I placed my hands on his chest, reacquainted myself with the hard muscle beneath his thin cotton shirt. For a minute, I was afraid I might be dreaming the whole thing. It wouldn't be the first time since this bet was placed that I'd had an erotic dream about him...and me...doing un- believably naughty things to each other. But no, it was really happening. His hands were actually reaching for my hips and pulling me close to him. That bulge beneath his jeans was rubbing against me. Glory, hallelugha! He leaned closer and kissed the side of my face, then whispered in my ear, "D'ya want this, Slayer?" and added a little forward momentum of his hips. This was no time to be coy. "Yeah, I want it," I whispered back, reaching down and squeezing him in a vulnerable spot that made his groan in my ear. "You gonna give it up?" "Oh, yeah." He laughed, but I didn't care. I was too happy. The sash of my robe fell to the floor, but he didn't push the garment off my shoulders. Instead, he slipped his hands in on either side of my waist and started caressing my skin. From my waist, to my back, over my rear end and back up, down the front of my thighs, then all the way up to my breasts. It was the most sensual thing I've ever felt. But I wanted more skin to skin contact. I pushed him away a little and skimmed his shirt off over his head. Our hands both reached for his belt buckle at the same time, but he gave it over to me. After that, it was easy work to shove his pants down, and as I bent over to push them all the way to the floor, he placed his hands on my shoulders and sent me down to my knees. So, I figured...as long as I'm down here.... I wrapped my fingers around his erection, amazed all over again by the size. He kind of grunted and jerked forward, so I began stroking up and down, up and down, soft and hard, fast and slow; I gave him a little bit of everything he likes. Then I took him in my mouth and he nearly went through the ceiling. He tasted hard and male, and I could have stayed where I was for a very long time and never gotten bored. His hands were tugging the pins out of my hair and dropping them on the floor, then he threaded his fingers through it. His hips moved slowly back and forth as he slid his cock in and out of my mouth, holding me still with his grip in my hair. When I looked up, I could see that he'd closed his eyes in ecstasy, and he was murmuring my name, telling me how much he loved what I was doing, the way my mouth felt, how hot and wet it was, begging me to suck him harder, oh, PLEASE Buffy, suck him harder. Ooh...tingles up and down my spine! I took him in as deeply as I could, which isn't all the way I'm sorry to report...he's just too big for that. But I could feel it pulsing and swelling in my mouth and beneath my tongue when I licked him from bottom to top. He must have been about to lose it, because he pushed me away kind of abruptly. "Not yet," he said in his 'bedroom' voice, the one that makes me shiver and shake. I rolled over on to my hands and knees, trying to get to my feet before my legs wouldn't allow it. Spike, in the meantime, had sat down on his ass and was kicking off his boots and jeans. Before I could get very far, I felt his fingers bracelet around my right ankle. "Where do you think YOU'RE going?" he demanded, yanking me back down. I didn't even get a chance to say one word! He fell forward and straddled my upper thighs, holding me down on the floor as he flipped my robe up and bared my bottom. "Very pretty," he chuckled, in a kind-of-evil way. "Thanks. What now?" "Off with the robe," he instructed. "I want you completely bare ass." Okeee-fine! So, he peeled the robe off my arms and tossed it in the general direction of his own clothing. I sort of expected him to get off and let me turn over or climb up onto the bed, but he had other ideas. His hands...god, those hands...started at my shoulder blades and began slowly massaging all the tension that had been knotting me up for days. No one did this better. Every time he does it, I melt into a puddle of butter. I wriggled around to make myself a little more comfortable, and the movement forced a gasp from him when I rubbed against a very sensitive place. His erection was...well, there's only one way to describe it...enormous. He leaned forward until he was stretched out on top of me. My legs parted to let him lie between them, and so he could keep most of his weight off me. I don't know what he's so worried about. It's not like he's gonna hurt me by laying all the way on me, but that's just how he is. Starting at the top of my spine, he began leaving a path of kisses down my back. My skin was tingling with anticipation as he worked his way down. After he skimmed over the cheeks of my ass, he finally moved aside and turned me onto my back. I never knew rolling around on the floor could be so much fun! He didn't waste any time...thank God...and went after me like I was dinner and he'd been fasting, which is kind of how we felt. His mouth went straight to my breasts. All of his previous stim- ulation had already made my nipples hard and sensitive and he was now cashing in on it. His tongue felt like rough velvet as it slipped and slid all over the surface of my breasts before targeting the centers. It felt so good that my back arched violently, trying to get closer to that demonic mouth and tongue of his. Wet...wet...wet....that's what was standing out in my mind at the moment. His mouth on my nipples left them wet and when exposed to the air, I got goosebumps from head to toe. His tongue swirled around and around the tips, making me whine and twist under him. Then, when I was just about to expire from the anti- cipation, he sucked on them long and hard, over and over. God, I wanted to scream, it felt so good! Farther south, I could feel him rubbing against me. His cock was moist and I had to touch it. My hot little hand moved down and took a grip on him that made him grunt around the mouthful of me he still had. I pumped my hand up and down, making him groan...which felt really good on my highly sensitized tits. So, I kept doing it. When he couldn't hold out any longer, he raised himself off of me and balanced on his knees between my spread thighs. Let me just say THAT was a delicious sight. Looking down and seeing that man kneeling between my legs, his cock flagrantly hard for me...life just doesn't get better than that. He reached up on the bed and yanked a pillow off of it, then shoved it under my bottom. Sliding down my body, he looked up and winked at me...SO CUTE!...and then lowered his head to lick me right where I wanted it. My brain actually short circuited for a moment. Just blew a fuse! When I came back to life, I realized he was pushing my legs even further apart as he lapped at me. "You like this?" he asked. He KNOWS I like it. He just wants to hear me say it. "Mmm...I love it," I said, tossing in a heartfelt moan to really build his ego sky high. Well, he deserves it! He feasted on me, his mouth and his tongue kissing and licking me, cleaning up all the juice my body was producing, which was considerable, working me until I screamed. I couldn't stop myself from trying to get more, so I lifted my hips and planted my feet on the floor. "Come on," I begged, rather shamelessly. "Come on and what?" Oh, he just has to hear me say it! "Do it!" "Do what?" There's that evil chuckle again. Okay, he wanted to hear it plain and simple? I gave it to him plain and simple. "Stick something inside of me...your tongue....your dick...some- thing!" Couldn't get much simpler or plainer than that! He snickered again...I'm really gonna get him for that...but he gave me what I needed. His tongue.... It slid inside and went deep, as deep as he could make it go. Then he began to withdraw and thrust, withdraw and thrust...fucking me with it. In and out, that clever tongue of his danced on me like wet sin. My own hand started heading for my clit, but he anticipated it and knocked it aside. He grunted something that sounded a lot like, "Mine!" and began using his index finger to rub my clit. He circled it around and around, occasionally stopping to get it good and wet. I was thrashing around on the floor, panting and gasping and grinding myself against his ravaging mouth. He continued tongue fucking me, sliding it in and out of my pussy fast, then slow, then fast again. Then, when I was just about to come, he stopped. Rearing back, he flipped me over onto my hands and knees and mounted me from behind. I choked out a gasp when he sank his dick into my hot, willing flesh. He pushed it in all the way, superbly lubricated by his tongue. Once he was completely buried inside of me, he paused to let the sensation really work it's way through the both of us. My pussy tightened around him like a vise clamp as he pumped his hips, pounding his cock into me like a wild animal. Holding on to the side of the bed for balance, he reached around with his free hand and started playing with my clit again. He fucked me hard, his rough fingers hitting all the right places as his dick moved in and out with even more force and pressure. My arms were about to give out, so I folded them in front of me and rested my cheek on them, watching our shadows fuck on the wall. I circled my hips a little, wanting it really hard and fast, and he knew...he always knows...fucking ALWAYS! He started thrusting faster, still working my clit. "You okay, baby? I'm not being too rough, am I?" I was barely capable of speech, but I managed a teeny little "No." Close...I was so close. My hips slammed back against him, pounding just as hard as he was. He took a handful of my hair and tugged my head back just a little, then leaned over and began talking to me. "That's good, baby...move your pretty ass....come on...har- der...do you feel it?....feel me pounding my cock in hard...oh, fuck...it's good, isn't it?..." "Yeah," I choked out, with difficulty. "It really is." "You want more? You want it harder...deeper?...how's that?...is that good?" What a question? "I love fucking you like this," he said, ramming in again. "I love the way your tits bounce when I fuck you hard...when I really put it to you...oh, CHRIST!" What elicited that particularly blasphemy out of him was me rearing up on my knees, which pushed him to sit back on his heels. His hands reached for my breasts and squeezed them firmly, then tugged on my nipples. I tilted my head to one side, baring my neck for him, inviting him. He said nothing further. No "What are you doings?" or "Are you sures" came from him. He figured I knew exactly what I was doing and exactly what it would mean. He was right. His fangs slid in smoothly, so smoothly that I barely felt the painful side of it, only the erotic penetration. He didn't drink long and deep, just enough to establish his claim and send me over the edge into the most powerful orgasm I've ever had. I screamed, not with pain, but with sheer animalistic pleasure as my lover...my mate...exploded inside of me, showering my womb with such abundant spurts of semen that it overflowed and trickled down my thighs. As I came down, he licked the punctures on my neck, soothing the sting. "I love you," he whispered. "God, I love you so damn much." He always knows the right thing to say. Okay, not always. But most of the time. ************************************************************************ "You look sensational, luv." I know I do. I worked at it. We have to meet everyone at the Bronze in twenty minutes, and I need to look my best so they don't think I've cracked up when they see what I have to show them. It's a warm evening, so I wore a light knit halter top with a high collar. My jeans are a freshly washed pair of snug denim hiphuggers. I mean, these babies hang lowwwwww..... I checked myself one last time in the mirror. Make up is perfect, ditto for the hairdo, an upsweep that took me fifteen minutes to get just right. I dilly and dally for as long as I can pull it off, but eventually there's just nothing more I can do except smile at my fate and climb into Spike's car. His car is a real beauty. A vintage 1968 Mustang Fastback, painted black...of course. One of the most perfect muscle cars ever to roll off a Detroit assembly line, this little jewel looks like it was made just the other day. Cherry is too pale a word to describe this car, and I'd give anything to drive it. Fat chance! Every time I suggest it, he practically kills himself laughing. He did promise to buy me a car...IF I ever finish a driver's education course. Something slow and easy to drive, but built like a tank so that when I inevitably crash into something, I won't be too badly injured. I spend the entire drive over to the Bronze mentally rehearsing what I'm going to say, how I'm going to explain the newest change in my life...how I'm gonna break it to them gently. But once I'm in the door and I see them all gathered at "our" table, everything I had planned to say flew out of my head and refused to come back. The music was loud, the words inviting me to "take a giant step outside my mind." I did that once. It was a bitch getting back in. The longer I stood there gathering my resolve, the more obvious it was becoming that words were never gonna cut it, and maybe it was best to just show them. Spike is looking at me, probably thinking I'm about to cut and run. I considered it for a moment, then rejected the idea. I was only putting off the inevitable. It was a permanent mark on my skin. Sooner or later, someone was bound to see it. Grabbing his hand, I dragged him across the room, zigzagging through the crowd of happy-go-lucky people who were NOT there set off a bomb. Greetings were exchanged and small talk was made. Spike brought me a glass of white wine. I practically threw it down my throat, then held out the glass for a refill. Here's another reason why I love him so much, more than I even thought I did; When he handed me the second glass of wine, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "S'all right, luv. You don't have to go through with it." I looked at him, and he smiled at me. He really meant it. That's how much he loves me. Now, no power on earth is gonna stop me. It's time. "Hey, you guys," I said loudly, cutting into whatever conversation I hadn't been paying attention to. "I want to tell you something, but before I do...there's something I want you to see." Four pairs of eyes looked at me expectantly. Willow...Tara...Xan- der...Anya. My four best friends, after Spike. Rising to my feet on perfectly steady and non-shaking legs, I turned around and lifted my shirt, exposing the small of my back. "Isn't it pretty?" Those same four pairs of eyes leaned closer, peering at my brand new tattoo; a delicate scroll of roses and thorns, with the word "Spike" in fancy Gothic lettering. Oh, I didn't show them my neck. That's none of their business. * * * * * They took the news much better than I'd expected them too. Xander looked at me like I was crazy, but then what else is new? Tara and Willow seemed to be finding it a little romantic. I think maybe they already knew about me and Spike on some sub- conscious level. Tara for sure, since she's the one who'd caught us with my hand nearly in Spike's pants the night of my birthday party. Anya asked me how much I'd paid for it. I'd paid for it with over a week of chastity, but I didn't tell her that. I doubt she could do the same. That's all folks.....