Season 5. Begins with
‘Spiral’ in the abandoned gas station, and goes far off-canon almost
When Dawn makes the ultimate
sacrifice to save her sister, friends, and the world, Buffy’s mind
snaps. When Buffy's friends give up hope of her ever recovering, and become
afraid that she’ll turn violent and uncontrollable, they call in the Council to help.
Fearing what the Council will do, Spike, forgotten and ignored by her
friends, steps in. Will he be able to reach the Slayer when no one else could?
Will he be able to keep her out of the hands of the Council and away
from her ‘helpful’ friends? How much heartbreak, guilt, and failure can
one girl stand before her indestructible spirit finally resigns the
fight and gives up hope?
YOU for reading and to Paganbaby for taking time out of her hectic life to beta this for me!
Her suggestions and commentary that always makes me smile! All mistakes
are mine because I can't stop fiddling right up to the last moment.
Rating / Warnings:
OK, this is
one of the chapters you were warned about:
Threesome B/G/G action involving Spike, Buffy, and BuffyBot
Main Character Death. Implied Rape. Plenty of angst.
Content is only suitable for mature adults.
Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that
some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or
find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
A couple of
select Slayer theme music,” the Bot proclaimed as she and Buffy left the Vegas
theatre where they’d just watched the Cirque Du Soleil perform. “It appears the
music made them stronger and more flexible, and it may do the same for us. Other
superheroes have music. Batman has music; Superman has music; Underdog has
music. Even Darth Vader had music. We should have our own music.”
guess,” Buffy stammered, still a bit flabbergasted that normal humans could do
the stuff she’d just witnessed. She didn’t think she could do half of
what they had just done. Maybe the Cirque Du Soleil performers were some kind of
acrobatic demons. Were there such things as acrobatic demons? She'd have to ask Spike ... Then she frowned, the Bot's words
sinking in. “Darth Vader? That didn’t really end well for him, did it?”
shrugged. “Maybe if he’d had better music he wouldn’t have been so easily
swayed by the dark side,” she contended. “I believe Luke had much more
appropriate music for a hero.”
and shook her head. “If you say so. Why don’t you work on that?” she suggested.
Bot’s mouth opened and the ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ began blasting at top volume
from her throat. Buffy gasped and pushed up on the Bot’s chin, closing her
mouth. “Shhhhh!” she admonished her BFF-Bot, looking around sheepishly at the
other patrons leaving the theatre.
“You do not
like Wagner?” the Bot asked, confused.
very … music-y,” Buffy replied, pulling the Bot off to one side of the hallway.
“But it’s already been used in ‘Apocalypse Now’ ... although …” Buffy mused,
tapping a finger on her pursed lips, and then shrugged. “We’re usually pretty
apocalypse-y. It might work, actually.
“I don’t know.
Let’s just … think about it. Spike might have some ideas too. Maybe something
more modern,” Buffy suggested.
opened her mouth again and Carl Douglas began singing, “♫
was Kung-fu fighting…”
and put her hand over the Bot’s mouth. “I don’t think so. Let’s wait until we
get back to the room, okay?”
The Bot nodded
and closed her mouth, and the muffled song behind Buffy’s hand stopped.
since 'that bloody brilliant night', as it had come to be referred to, Buffy had
planned on leaving. She'd squirreled away money and chips that Spike had given
her to spend, even bought a bus ticket to New York City. She'd packed her bags
more than once, but then ended up unpacking them again before anyone saw. She
was on the starting line, she just couldn't quite push off. Each day she told
herself that 'tomorrow' she would leave. So far, two weeks on, tomorrow had
was secretly planning her escape, the three
roommates had fallen into a bit of a routine. Spike would go to dinner with them
each evening, then he’d go to the casino to continue amassing his, or their –
as he insisted it was – fortune. While he was doing that, Buffy and the Bot
would go to one of the many shows that the hotel gave their VIPs complimentary
tickets for. After the show, the two girls would window shop, or shop-shop, or
just walk for a while, people-watching. Buffy and the Bot usually went back to
their room by one or two a.m., maybe talked a bit more or watched TV. After
that, Buffy got her shower, and the Bot lay down on the couch in the sitting
room to charge. Spike usually showed by three or four.
Then came the
part of the day that Buffy looked forward to most, and the part that she knew
she would miss most when the day came that she really had to leave. She and Spike would
make love and talk, and make love again. They’d sleep and wake up and make love
again. They’d order in breakfast and eat and talk and laugh and make love again
until they both finally fell into utterly exhausted and contented slumber, and
the cycle would start again with dinner out.
become better and better at pushing back the red river of guilt over the last
days with Spike. She continued to use his eyes as her anchor to sanity and could
even fight it back when he wasn't even near. She could close her eyes and see
his face, see the azure pools of adoration threaded with the golden sparks of
demonic power beneath, and the guilt and anguish would simply melt away, recede
like a glacier touched by warm, tropical sunshine. The better she got at it, the
more confidence she had in her ability to stay in control, and the less often
the guilt-monster tested her, giving her even more confidence. It was a vicious
cycle that, for once, worked in her favor.
The only thing
about ‘that bloody brilliant night’, that Spike
ever mentioned to Buffy was that she shouldn’t expect those kinds of mind-blowing
fireworks all the time. He was good, but he wasn’t that good every time.
That night was, he told her, a once in a lifetime – the stars, moon, and planets had
aligned for them that night. She assured him that she didn’t expect that every
night, and what they had was perfect – he was perfect, and he never left her
wanting. It twisted her heart to do it, but she agreed with him about it being
‘once in a lifetime’ without telling him just how right he was about that night.
The other thing she never did again was repeat those three little words that
she'd let slip from her lips as he lay unconscious in her arms. Giving him that
and then yanking it away, she reasoned, would be worse than never giving it to
him at all. Leaving him would be hard enough as it was without those words
hanging like an empty promise in the air between them.
Over the last
days and nights, Spike had taught her things about her body that she was sure Dr.
Ruth couldn’t have told her, shown her positions the Kama Sutra lacked, and
pleasured her with toys she had no idea even existed. He somehow made even her
most embarrassing cravings and curiosities seem perfectly natural. He made her darkest desires
feel right, made her most twisted fantasies come true. He could mix pain with
pleasure in the most amazing ways and leave her utterly satisfied and yearning
for more at the same time. She felt like something inside her had been freed.
He'd touched the deepest parts of her being – parts that she'd denied for so
long– and somehow made it seem right.
She would miss
him in so many ways, and to her chagrin it wouldn’t just be physically. Her
heart would break the day she left, she knew it. He'd earned her trust and her
affection and she'd finally given it to him, utterly and completely. He'd
brought her from the darkness into the light and then shown her how to walk the
path between those two worlds. He anchored her so she didn't fall back into the
abyss, but gave her permission to swim in the dark worlds of lustful desire that
she'd denied for so long.
As the two
blonde twins walked through a mall-like shopping center in the hotel where the
show had been, Buffy laid her hand over her lower abdomen. Her period wasn’t due
for another few days. When she missed it, Spike would be sure to notice – and
she was very sure she would miss it. She had no illusions about his
knowledge of exactly when she menstruated – she’d been too near him for too
long. Stupid, creepy vampire smelling. She might be able to forestall
questions for a day or two, but if she was later than that he was sure to
happened, there would be questions. Questions she couldn’t answer. How could she
tell him that she’d used him to make a baby? She felt dirty, like she’d raped
him, stolen part of him without his knowledge or permission, just like the monks
had. But she’d had no choice. She had to save Dawn’s soul, and Spike had made it
clear that he had no desire for a child. Buffy had even brought the subject up
once or twice more in round-about ways, and Spike’s disdain for the idea never
telling him and simply begging for his forgiveness, but the thought of it
terrified her. What if he didn’t forgive her? What if he hated her? What if he
looked at her with disdain and contempt? This was going to be hard enough on her
heart, she didn’t think it could take seeing those emotions in his eyes.
logical mind knew just how crazy it sounded, but to spare her heart the
possibility of utter decimation, she would have to leave Spike before he found
out about the baby and left her, or worse: stayed but resented her for it. Her
heart would be broken, but it wouldn’t be destroyed. It was the lesser of two
evils. The possibility that Spike would forgive her seemed so remote that it
didn’t even make a blip on her emotional radar.
She was the Slayer and she
had a mission. Her heart had been broken more than once in the name of the
mission; it was, it seemed, her true calling. She simply had to make sure it
wasn't broken so completely that she couldn't take care of their child, and to
do that she would have to leave him before he shattered her with his scorn and
rejection. Tomorrow ... or, perhaps the tomorrow after that. Definitely one of
these tomorrows would be their last.
“Let’s go in
here,” Buffy suggested as they got to the swankiest ice cream parlor she’d ever
seen. If the ice cream was as rich as the décor, she may just die right there
from the utter bliss of it.
The Bot turned
in and Buffy directed her to a booth in the back. The menu was like something
from the Guy Savoy over at Cesar’s Palace, which Spike had taken them to the
week before. She suddenly felt a bit underdressed in her short skirt, sandals, and
Golden Opulence Sundae. $1,000.
scoops of Tahitian Vanilla Bean ice cream mixed with Madagascar vanilla and
Venezuelan Chuao chocolate. The decadent foundation is set off with a leaf
covered in 23K edible gold and surrounded by golden dragets, Paris candied
fruits, marzipan cherries, and truffles. This decadent sundae is topped off with
Amedei Porcelana drizzled over the top, and a Ron Ben-Israel sugar flower. But
the experience doesn’t end there! Topping the sundae you’ll also find a small
glass bowl of Grand Passion Caviar, sweetened with orange, passion fruit, and
Armagnac, which gives off a shiny golden color. Eat your sundae in style: an 18K
gold spoon is provided to eat your delicious treat out of a Harcourt crystal
“Holy shit,” Buffy muttered under her breath as she
searched for something she could afford.
She finally settled on something with less glitz and
precious metals: a brownie sundae for $50, along with a cup of coffee. She gave
her order to the waitress and, after getting her coffee, she summoned her
courage to do what she knew needed to be done. Buffy had to get the Bot prepared
for the day when Buffy left. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Spike
completely alone. The Bot was all she could give him, and she intended to make
sure he knew that Buffy gave her blessing for him to be with her twin.
“It is a very good thing that Spike is so talented
with games of chance,” the Bot observed after the waitress left. “Otherwise you
Buffy chuckled nervously and nodded. “No doubt. Man –
I had no idea there was such a thing as a thousand dollar sundae. Geez … and I
thought McDonald’s was overpriced when they went to $1.29 for their sundaes. I
guess I’m not very good being a high roller’s girl.”
“Spike seems satisfied with your performance,” the Bot
Buffy blushed and fidgeted with her coffee cup,
looking down at the table. “Yeah, I guess … Which brings me to something I
wanted to talk to you about,” she forged ahead. Summoning her courage, Buffy
looked up at the Bot. “Spike had you deactivate some files and programs.”
“Yes,” the Bot replied.
“Can you … reactivate them anytime?” Buffy wondered.
“Yes. I am extremely efficient at managing my files.”
Buffy nodded and gave the Bot a smile. “Good. Ummm … I
was thinking that Spike might like to spend some … time with both of us …
“Spike spends an average of 2.76 hours per day with
both of us together,” the Bot pointed out helpfully. “I believe he is satisfied
with this level of interaction.”
Buffy sighed – hints were not gonna get it with the
Bot. She started to get more explicit, but stopped talking when the waitress
came with a brownie sundae that could’ve fed a Mongol horde.
“Wow – I didn’t ask for it to be supersized,” Buffy
commented as the punchbowl full of rich, dark chocolate brownies and decadent
French vanilla ice cream was placed in front of her. The ice cream had been
drizzled with hot fudge and then covered with Maraschino cherries, sliced
bananas, pecans, and walnuts. The whole thing was then topped with real whipped
cream – as in cream that had been whipped, not sprayed from a can – and that was
dusted with Ghirardelli’s cocoa.
“There must be a whole pan of brownies here… and a
whole half-gallon of ice cream,” she continued as she eyed the mountain of food
from one side, then tilted her head to check the other.
“Biggest, baddest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth,
honey,” the waitress assured her with a wink.
Buffy choked and flushed, and thought, You’ve never
met Spike, but aloud she just said, “Uhhh ... right. Thanks.”
When the waitress left, Buffy tucked into the mound of
sugary-goodness and talked between bites and moans of pleasure. If Buffy had
never met Spike, she would’ve agreed with the waitress – it was heavenly!
“What I meant was, I think that you should reactivate
those files that he had you deactivate and then … use those programs to spend
more time with Spike and I,” Buffy clarified between bites.
The Bot’s eyes became a bit unfocused, the clue that
she was ‘thinking’, then she looked back at Buffy. “You wish me to have sex with
you and Spike,” she announced in a too-loud voice. “I believe that is called a
ménage à trois or a threesome.”
Buffy choked on the food in her mouth, inhaling some
brownie into her windpipe, and began coughing. Her eyes teared up, and she
thought she was going to have to do something really gross to clear her
windpipe. After a long minute, she finally got her throat cleared (without
resorting to anything too unladylike) and swallowed what was in her mouth. By
now people at tables and booths near them were casting furtive glances at the
“Inside voice! Geez! Announce it over the loudspeaker,
why don’t you?” Buffy growled at the Bot in a mock whisper.
“If that is preferable,” BuffyBot began as she began
to slide out of the booth, presumably to go in search of a loudspeaker.
Buffy put her hand on the Bot’s arm and stopped her.
“A figure of speech,” she clarified. “Not literal.”
“Oh. I understand. You were using sarcasm. I am still
compiling a file on sarcasm, it is incomplete.”
Buffy sighed. “Ok … those files that he had you
deactivate. Do any of them have … scenarios for … threesomes?” Buffy asked,
keeping her voice low.
The Bot’s mind whirled behind her eyes a moment, then
she nodded. “Yes. I have several scenarios for threesomes. Do you wish me to
diagram them for you?”
“Uhhh … no. I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Then,
after a beat, “You can do that?”
“Yes. I have above-average hand-eye coordination and
can draw in perfect detail in several mediums, including pencil, charcoal ...”
“That is so not fair. I can barely draw stick figures,”
Buffy groused, cutting the Bot off. She sighed. “Also non-pointy.”
“Actually, the pencils are quite pointy,” the Bot
“No … I mean … never mind,” Buffy huffed out a breath,
then began again in earnest. “Bot, do you remember when I cut my arms?”
“Of course. I run diagnostic tests daily and my ROM
and RAM is in perfect working
order,” the Bot replied.
“Right. And I asked you to love Spike for me?”
“Yes. I agreed.”
“Right, you did. I want you to promise, if anything …
happens to me ... If I … go away or … well, just anything happens and Spike’s
alone ... or for some reason I can't be with him, that you’ll love him for me, okay?”
“I have not rescinded my promise. It remains in
effect,” the Bot assured Buffy. “I am excellent at keeping promises.”
“Good. That’s good. Ok, but you need to not be
jealous, ok? If he finds someone else to love, then you can … stand down, go
back to just being his friend if that’s what he wants. Take your cues from him.
Don't go all Othello on him. Understand?”
“Yes. I understand fully. My verbal and written comprehension of the
English language is in the 100th percentile among English-speaking college graduates,” BuffyBot agreed.
Buffy furrowed her brow but nodded. Did the Bot go to
college? Surely not. “Good … At least I
think that’s good. That's good, right?”
the Bot clarified, giving Buffy a nod and a Colgate smile. "Just like Spike's
mean 'extra-yummy-goodness'," Buffy translated, returning the Bot's smile.
Buffy turned her attention back to her barely-touched mound of chocolate
nirvana. She’d eaten as much as she could, but it hardly made a dent in it.
“Man, I wish I had a poor country I could send this to. It’d feed a small army
for a week.”
“Actually, that would be insufficient to feed even one
human adult for a week. There are approximately 12,000 calories in that dish.
It would, of course depend on if the army was made of males or females, and
their average weight and fitness levels. It would
also depend on if the army was actively engaged in warfare and at what
temperatures and in what terrain. A fit male would require approximately 2,000
calories per day, however if they were active …”
“Never mind,” Buffy sighed, waving a hand at the Bot.
“That was rhetorical.”
“I am not programmed to recognize rhetoric.”
“I know – sorry,” Buffy apologized as she pulled money
from her purse to pay for the dessert. “C’mon – we’ve got some things to do
before Spike gets home … errr … back to the room tonight.”
When Spike got in in the early hours of the morning,
Buffy and the Bot were both on the couch in the sitting room. Buffy was
half-snoozing, half-watching TV, and the Bot was charging. They were both
dressed in soft, fluffy bath robes and they both smelled of sandalwood and
vanilla, the fragrance of the high-end body-wash and shampoo that the hotel
“Honey, I’m home,” Spike called as he closed the door
behind him. He dropped his keycard onto the table near the door as well as the
‘spending money’ and loose chips that he’d brought home. The ‘real’ cash – the
cash they’d soon use to start a new life – was in a safety deposit box in the
“Miss me?” he asked as he leaned over the back of the
couch and gave Buffy and upside-down kiss.
“Always,” she purred as she grabbed the back of his
neck when he began to pull away. Spike didn’t fight as she deepened the kiss,
holding him in place with the gentle pressure of her hand … or perhaps it was
the pressure of her lips that was holding him in place.
When she finally released him, he still didn’t move
far from her. “What was that for?” he wondered, giving her a sexy, upside-down
“Got a surprise for you tonight,” Buffy revealed.
“There’s an outfit in the bathroom I want you to put on after your shower.”
Spike cocked an upside-down brow at her. “I refuse t’
wear a pink tutu, pet.”
Buffy cocked a brow at him. "A blue tutu would be ok?"
Spike started to shrug, but Buffy laughed and shook her head. “It’s not a tutu!”
“Or a feather boa…” Spike added.
“Just go get a shower, you deviant,” she commanded,
laughter still in her voice.
“Maybe you’d like t’ join me,” he suggested, running
his tongue suggestively over his teeth.
“Not tonight – now go on before I change my mind about
your surprise,” she
ordered, pushing on his shoulder where he still leaned over her.
Spike gave her one more assessing glance, then
acquiesced and headed into the bedroom and the bathroom beyond. After a moment
he was back.
“Don’t think it’ll fit, luv,” he informed her, holding
a black scarf up across his hips.
Buffy rolled her eyes and got up off the couch. “It’s
for your eyes, dummy,” she told him, taking it from his hands and
wrapping it around his head to demonstrate. “And no cheating. If you look, you
won’t get the surprise.
“There are ear plugs and a nose clip in there too. Put
them all on and lay down on the bed … after you shower that smell off
you,” she instructed, scrunching up her nose. “Mrs. Ryblonski again, huh?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a bloody
“Good thing I’m not jealous, or I’d have to steal her
walker … and blow up her oxygen tank.”
Spike laughed. “You are the epitome of trust and
You have no idea…
Buffy thought. “Come in smelling like that ho’ Seashell – what kind of name is
that, anyway? Geez! – and I’ll show her just how much I can share … with my
fists,” she threatened.
Spike laughed. “No worries, pet. I think you got your
point across last time when you threatened to make her spine into a puka shell
necklace. Haven’t seen her about of late.”
“Good. You don’t need all those skanks rubbing all
over you. You’ve got me for that.
“Now go. Shoo!” she instructed, making a shooing
motion with her hands. “The smell of Bengay and ‘White Diamonds’ that’s reeking
off you is about to make me hurl.”
Spike gave her an appraising look. “What are you
plannin’, Summers?” he wondered.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?
The ‘duh!’ at the end of that sentence is silent,” she informed him.
“Only one way you’re gonna find out. You do … trust
me, don’t you?” she asked coyly.
Spike sighed, gave her one more curious look, then
turned and headed for the bathroom again, twisting his hips in an exaggerated
motion from side to side as he went. He swung the scarf in his hand like a
stripper would twirl an item of clothing before tossing it to the crowd. He
stopped in the doorway and looked dramatically back over his shoulder at her.
His lips were pursed to highlight his razor-sharp cheekbones, his eyes narrowed
into sexy slits. Spike blew her a kiss, then turned away and continued his ‘sexy
walk’ into the bedroom.
Buffy laughed and shook her head as she watched him
go. Such a perv.
“Right then, Mistress Pandora, come open your box,”
Spike called from the bedroom. “Your deaf, blind, and … What do ya call someone
who can’t smell?” he wondered, his voice strangely muffled by the clip on his
“A sanitation worker,” Buffy supplied, as she moved to
the bedroom door, still clad in her fluffy robe.
Spike snorted. It blew the clip off his nose. Buffy
scowled at him. “I should’ve gotten the big, steel, industrial strength one.”
Spike pulled the blindfold up – to look for the clamp,
of course – and stole a glance around the room and at her. He didn’t see any big
surprise waiting for him – or at least nothing he hadn’t seen every night for
the last couple of weeks.
Buffy sighed and strode over to where the little
plastic swimmer’s clamp fell on the floor, picked it up, and put it in Spike’s
hand. “Get in bed, face up, spread-eagle,” she commanded.
“Ooooo … I love it when you act like a bossy bint. Gets me all
hot and tingly. Oh – wait – that’s how you act all the bloody time,” Spike taunted as he
put the little clamp back on his nose and basically dove onto the bed, bouncing
halfway across it before coming to rest near the middle of the wide mattress.
He rolled over until he was face up and then spread
his arms and legs out as instructed. “I’m your willin’ slave,” he offered as he
waited, his whole body on alert, thrumming with anticipation.
Even with the plugs in his ears, he could still hear –
it was just a little muffled. He heard Buffy open a dresser drawer. Since he
didn’t think she was getting clothes out, he had to assume she was retrieving
some of the toys they’d bought over the last days. Ok, to be fair, he’d picked
out most of them.
The memory of her in the sex shop the first time made
him grin as he waited for her to give him his surprise. She couldn’t have been
more red-faced if she’d been dunked into a vat of ketchup. She followed him
around, head bowed, her hair falling over her face to hide her discomfort … or
maybe to just hide her identity from anyone that might be looking. She wouldn’t
even look at the stuff he picked out, even when he specifically asked her
preference on something. I mean, how should he know if she’d rather have a
Hopping Rabbit Vibrator, a Wild Orchid, a Thrusting Panther, or a Diving Dolphin? She
absolutely refused to even look at them. He chose the panther for her;
for some reason the predator theme seemed to suit his Slayer.
He took her back there six times in the first two
days, just so he could see her face go through the transformation from pink, to
red, to nearly purple. She looked like one of those cartoon characters just
before the steam starts whistling out their ears and their eyes bulge out of
their heads. It was too bloody cute.
To Buffy’s credit, after ten days and fifteen trips
into the shop, she had started picking out some things on her own. Her
current favorite was the Twin Teasers vibrator that offered double penetration
and a little bunny to hop excitedly over her clit at the same time. Spike had
unleashed the monster inside his Slayer … and oh how he loved it.
And, the best part was Buffy hadn't retreated into 'Barmy-Buffy' once in the
last two weeks, even when faced with Thrusting Panthers and butt plugs. He had
Buffy back, and now he had all of her ... or nearly all. Her heart was
still elusive, but he could wait for that –
there was no rush – they had forever.
Every minute, every hour, every day he spent with her only brought them closer,
he could feel it in his bones. Every silly argument he let her win, every
chick-flick he endured, every hour he spent explaining 'Passions' to her was
worth it. She had let him in, metaphorically and literally, it was only a matter
of time before she admitted her feelings for him, he was sure of it.
Spike came back to the moment when the handcuffs
closed over his right wrist. It was only then that he realized she had shackled
him to the bed by his wrists and ankles. He pulled against them tentatively –
they were surprisingly strong; the bed, however, wasn’t, but he had no desire to
escape his Mistress. He’d done this to her, but this was the first time she’d
done it to him. The added incapacity of the blindfold, ear plugs, and the nose
clip left him feeling strangely vulnerable. But wasn’t that the point?
“I know you can hear me, can’t you?” Buffy asked from
the right side of the bed where she’d just finished clicking his wrist into the
“I can hear you,” he confirmed.
“Mistress…” Buffy added angrily as a sharp swat of a
riding crop smacked Spike in the stomach.
“I can hear you, Mistress,” Spike corrected, trying to
keep from grinning like a mad-man. Oh, yes … he’d created a monster. A wickedly wonderful horny
deviant bossy bint of a dominatrix monster.
Buffy trailed the leather tip of the riding crop down
from Spike’s shackled wrist, over his biceps, across the dark hair under his arm
– which made him squirm – to his chest. She drew figure-eights over his hard
pecs with the leather, making smaller and smaller loops, closing in on his dusky
nipples as she went.
Spike jerked his leg, trying to move it away, when a
new sensation began on his foot. A feather was trailing lazily from the ticklish
bottom of his foot to his ankle and up over his calf.
“Bet you’re one a’ those chits that can pat your head
and rub your tummy at the same time,” he commented after a moment.
Buffy’s crop lifted off his chest and smacked down on
the hard muscles of his abs again.
“Mistress,” Spike added through clenched teeth, the
muscles of his stomach quivering beneath the delicious sting of the leather.
“I can chew gum and walk at the same time, too,” she
assured him haughtily.
“We know you’re a vampire,” Buffy continued, as she
began the figure-eights on his chest again.
“Do we now?”
“Mmmhmmm,” Buffy confirmed. Spike jumped again as the
unmistakable tip of a stake began idly tracing the muscles of his six-pack.
“And … what are ya gonna do with the vampire,
Mistress?” Spike wondered as his adrenaline began to climb. He was already hard,
but the feel of the sharpened wood against his skin made his cock jump and jerk,
dancing with fear and arousal.
“Use him for our pleasure,” Buffy replied
thought. Who is ‘our’? She got a bloody mouse in ‘er pocket?
Buffy trailed the soft leather flap at the end of the
riding crop over Spike’s nipples, hardening them into pebbles with just a touch.
At the same time, the feather tickled his inner thighs before momentarily
caressing his balls and cock, then circling around over one hip and beginning
again on his thighs.
And in her third hand, Buffy was inching the
stake up from his abs toward his heart. What the bloody hell?
Spike didn’t have time to process that very long
before the stake stopped over his heart. He felt the tip press into his flesh
painfully as the feather ghosted over his balls and cock again. Two primal,
brain-stem reactions battled inside him for dominance: fear and lust. The two
built on each other as they warred within him, lifting his hormone and
adrenaline levels through the roof. He briefly thought of blurting out their
safe-word, but parts of him really wanted to see just where this was going.
Those would be the parts below his navel; the part just under the tip of that
stake had no desire whatsoever to find out any more about this new game.
“I could dust you right now,” Buffy informed him, as
if he didn’t know that.
“Yeah … so why don’t ya?” he asked, feigning Big Bad
Buffy smacked him again with the crop.
“Mistress,” Spike ground out through clenched teeth,
trying not to inhale too deeply and press his chest harder against the deadly
“We’re horny. You’re the only vampire we’ve captured
in a very long time. If you want to stay non-dusty, then you’ll do as you’re
told, when you’re told, for as long as you’re told. Got it?”
There was that ‘we’ again. What the fuck was that
“Yeah, I got it.” Spike felt the crop lift off his
abs again and quickly added, “Mistress.”
Buffy let up on the pressure of the stake and Spike
felt at once relieved and a little disappointed. She was hot when she was
threatening him like that. There had been a time when that was the only action
he’d ever gotten from her, and he’d taken those crumbs and shaped them in his
mind into all sorts of sexual fantasies. Who knew they'd ever actually come
true? A vamp could dream, of course ... but this – this was a bloody
wet-dream come to life.
Suddenly Buffy’s mouth was right next to his ear.
“Don’t think we won’t dust you, vampire. When we say ‘fuck’ you better be the
best fuck we’ve ever had, and when we sit on your face, you better give the best
head of your miserable life. You want to keep walking around, then you need to
satisfy the needs of a Slayer and one horny bitch.”
Before Spike could even answer, Buffy had pulled away
and, in what seemed like the very next instant, her lips had closed over his
cock and were sucking down on him.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed, surprised by her
quickness and ferocity. His hips jerked up, pulling on his restraints as she
continued teasing his balls with the feather, a sharp contrast to the hungry way
her mouth was devouring him.
Buffy stood back and watched as the Bot’s lips
swallowed Spike’s length, sucking down with God-only-knew how much force. The
Bot, Buffy was sure, could suck the chrome off a bumper. It really was a little
weird – ok, it was a whole-lot weird – to watch herself giving Spike head. She
was at once jealous and worried that the Bot did a better job of it than she
This was your stupid idea, she admonished herself. You have no one to blame but yourself if
the freaking Bot is better than you are. Remember what you’re trying to do, for
Christ’s sake, and stop being a baby.
But Buffy couldn’t help but listen to Spike’s moans
and hissed words of praise, and compare them to what he said to her when she’d
given him head. She’d read in Cosmo one time that threesomes could get really
complicated when there were emotional attachments. Buffy suddenly understood
that to her core. The feelings that had grown inside her for Spike were suddenly
in turmoil. Maybe she should just stop this now. He was still blindfolded – he
might not even know if she just stopped the Bot, sent her to the other room, and
took her place.
And then Buffy thought of Spike being alone. He
deserved better than the Bot, but at least he’d have some comfort until he could
find someone new after Buffy left. Spike was, at his core, Love’s Bitch – he
needed someone to love almost as much as he needed blood. She owed him this
much. She could be a mature, self-assured adult long enough to make sure he no
longer felt any guilt over being with his robot. Buffy took a deep breath and
steeled herself. She could do this. She could even enjoy doing this. It could be
That’s your problem, Summers. You think too much,
Buffy scolded herself. Quit thinking and do.
Spike had started to say something lewd to Buffy about
‘horny bitches’, but the words exploded into sparks of surprised pleasure when her
mouth engulfed his length.
“Bloody hell!” The words burst from his lips, surprised by her
quickness and ferocity. Only a moment before she had been right next to his ear,
and now she was devouring him. His hips jerked up, pulling on his restraints, as
she drove him wild. Her mouth was hot and wet as she sucked down on his shaft,
and the head of his cock slammed into the back of her throat when his hips
jerked up against her. The feather she’d had in her hand continued to tease his
tight balls like the fingers of a ghost, and the disparate sensations
overwhelmed his mind for a few moments as his body wrested control from his
But something was off. Not that there was anything
wrong with what Buffy was doing, but it simply felt different – familiar but
different. Buffy's first forays
had been tentative and unsure. She'dgained confidence over the last couple of weeks, but
she still liked to start slowly, tease him into rock-solid hardness with that lovely, pink tongue,
then nibble the length of him with her teeth
before dropping that luscious mouth over his shaft. And even then, her tongue
continued to swirl over him and twirl around the head when she pulled back. She
wasn’t doing any of that now, and she definitely hadn't started slowly. Not that Spike was complaining, but it was just …
different. Maybe she was just getting into the whole Mistress role and trying
something new, he mused as he forced some blood back into his muddled brain.
And then it hit him. ‘We’. He suddenly
remembered why this felt familiar. ‘We.’
“Bugger,” he murmured as the truth came to him in
slow spluttering bursts of lucidity. That wasn’t Buffy; that was the bloody Bot.
No sooner had he realized the truth and began trying to process just what the
bloody hell that meant, he felt the mattress dip near his head and Buffy’s lips
touched down on his. Spike instinctively returned the kiss, darting his tongue
out to taste her. She tasted of cherries and chocolate and Buffy. He
wished he could see her. If he could see her perhaps he could suss out what she
was thinking, but all he could do was taste her and feel the Bot’s mouth raking
over him. Then Buffy’s hands pressed against his chest and she pushed herself away.
He began to protest, but before he could get the words
out he felt her shift again and her sweet quim was over his face, effectively
silencing him. Her hips
rocked back and forth, then she settled her wet pussy over his mouth. Spike
moaned into her as his tongue lashed out and devoured her sweet, dripping
desire. He pulled against his restraints, wishing he could use his hands, but
was thwarted with the cuffs. He groaned in frustration, but his tongue and lips
took up the challenge immediately.
As he dove into her he felt the Bot pull off and he
tensed, waiting to see – or more accurately feel, since he couldn’t
actually see anything – what would come next.
When the Bot straddled their prisoner and lowered
herself down onto his shaft, Spike’s deep, basso growl of pleasure washed over
Buffy’s pussy with a vibration that rivaled any of the toys they’d bought.
Buffy’s hands were pressed against Spike’s chest, balancing and supporting her
over his face, and now the Bot’s were pressed against his flat abs as she ground
her hips down on him.
Spike’s tongue began thrusting into Buffy’s throbbing
channel in time with the Bot’s rocking rhythm on his cock. His chin raked
against her clit, sending shivers of fire down her thighs and up into her core.
Buffy suddenly found that she was no longer jealous, but turned on by the vision
of the Bot riding Spike’s thrusting hips – a mirror of Buffy’s own position over
his luscious mouth.
The Bot had a look of pleasure on her face and Buffy
knew, from talking to her robot-twin earlier, that it was most likely real –
not a strictly programmed response to the act of sex.
The Bot had tried to explain to Buffy how the
receptors that were in her flexible outer layer of dermis worked. Buffy didn’t
really get it, other than to realize that the Bot could feel things. She knew
when something felt hot or cold, soft or hard, good, or bad, or … wonderful,
and the proper response to the stimuli would be triggered. It was, Buffy
thought, not that different from how a human would respond in many ways. The
only difference was that the responses were generally programmed in ahead of
time (although she could also learn new responses) and stored in little bits and
bytes rather than in a mushy, pink brain.
There were times Buffy wished she’d had the ‘proper’
responses to things pre-programmed – especially things like algebra, French,
history … It would’ve saved all that pesky time she’d wasted studying!
From the look on BuffyBot’s face, she was feeling
pretty darn good as she slid languidly up and down Spike’s shaft, grinding down
on him hard every three or four strokes. The Bot’s head was tilted back, her
lids heavy, eyes nearly closed as she rode him. Low, throaty moans fell from her
lips, especially on the hard down-strokes. Buffy knew that feeling. The feeling
of Spike’s cock plunging into her, banging against her womb, his girth
stretching and filling her.
Buffy had nothing to complain about herself as Spike’s
rough tongue darted into her, laving her sensitive opening with blissful
abandon. She didn’t know if it was a vampire thing or just a Spike thing – but
that tongue. Oh. My. God. Gene Simmons had nothing on Spike. His long,
lithe, talented oral appendage was vampire-strong and wonderfully wicked. His taste buds
were as rough as sandpaper against her flesh, while the bottom was smooth as
silk. When he curled the hard, sharp tip against her g-spot, raking those rough taste buds
over the elusive little bobbin, Buffy’s body turned to jelly. He sent her heart
fluttering just running that devilish weapon over his own lips – when it was
delving into her, her heart tried to explode out of her chest.
Buffy had never experienced anything like it before –
of course that was true of all of Spike’s talents and appendages.
Watching the Bot and Spike moving together sent chills
of desire through Buffy. She could see his cock, slick and shining with
BuffyBot’s juices, sliding in and out of her twin. Buffy watched as Spike’s
shaft disappeared between the Bot’s smooth pussy lips, only to reappear again a
moment later. She couldn't bring herself to look away; the sight made her pulse
race, her heart skitter in her chest, and her pussy throb. It was beautiful and
erotic and ... wrong. Enjoying this must be wrong. Buffy’s body tingled all over with the absolute
wrongness of it; the wrongness of watching this; of doing it, of liking
it. There was no doubt this was the epitome of wrong … but it felt soooo good.
This wasn't what she'd expected
... this wasn't what she'd planned. She ... she was just doing this for Spike,
so he would know it was alright to be with the Bot. How had this gotten so ...
Even with the wrongness of her
enjoying this tableau blaring wildly in her brain, the vision of Spike's cock thrusting into
her twin fanned the
flames of Buffy’s desire. She couldn't look away if she'd wanted to, and the
evil-bliss of it captured and then burned her inhibitions into tiny motes of ash and
cinder, effectively silencing her stupid brain. Thoughts of what was right and what was wrong, of social taboos and
expectations, vanished from her mind in a whirlwind of flames and dancing
Buffy bit her
bottom lip and reached one tentative hand out to touch one of the Bot’s bouncing
BuffyBot gasped at the new sensation. She widened her
half-lidded eyes and raised her head from its rolled-back position to look at
Buffy with smoldering green passion. Buffy half-expected to feel squicked-out –
her desires had never leaned this way – but she suddenly realized that she cared
for the Bot, crazy as that was. In her own way, the Bot had been a friend to her over the last
weeks, almost as much as Spike had. Freud would probably have a field-day with
this one, but suddenly giving the Bot pleasure seemed just as important to Buffy
as giving Spike pleasure.
Buffy rolled the Bot’s nipple in her fingers as Spike
had done hers so many times and the Bot’s body arched into her hand. A thrill
ran through Buffy and she became bolder, rougher, more lascivious. Giving
pleasure to her partner in this surprise made Buffy’s own pulse quicken and her
passion rise even higher. When the Bot’s hand came up to mimic Buffy’s, she
didn’t pull away, she pressed into it, savoring the feel of the Bot’s heat on
her skin, of her twin’s strong fingers tugging her nipple into rock-hardness.
When the Bot raised her other hand up to Buffy’s neck
and pulled the self-proclaimed ex-Slayer forward, Buffy didn’t fight her. Their
lips met in the middle and they kissed gently and tentatively. Tongues teased
and tasted, teeth nibbled, and lips pressed softly against the other’s. The Bot
tasted like strawberries. Her lips were fever-hot against Buffy’s, so very
different than Spike’s. They were firm, yet pliable, not as pillowly-soft as the
vamp's, but they were just as passionate against Buffy's mouth. Buffy found
herself lost in the sensations flowing over her body. Hands and mouths touching,
lips and tongues tasting, gentle caresses and demanding gropes all merged into a
sea of sensation that washed over the ex-Slayer like a hundred-foot tidal wave.
Buffy was suddenly giving as much to the Bot as she
was getting. She was just as turned on by the giving as the receiving,
and she silently willed the Bot to fall with her into that sea of bliss.
With Spike pleasuring them both with cock and tongue,
the two blondes atop him both shuddered in blissful release as their pleasure
centers were overloaded. They both gasped then moaned sharply into the other’s
mouth as their orgasms washed through them. Their bodies tensed almost as one,
and their throbbing quims clenched at Spike’s thrusting bits.
When Buffy’s cum showered down on his tongue in an
explosion of sweet desire and the Bot’s quim fluttered and clutched at his cock,
Spike couldn’t hold back another moment. All the sensations were simply too much
to fight, and his own explosion erupted into the Bot’s quivering channel.
Although he’d indulged in fantasies about such a threesome, Spike hadn’t dared
think such a thing would actually happen to him – Dear Penthouse, I
don’t normally write letters like this but – and the reality of it was more
than he’d ever imagined.
As Buffy returned to earth from her trip around the
moon, she collapsed down onto the bed on Spike’s right, half-draped over him,
her head near his hips. At the same moment, the Bot returned from robot heaven –
presumably somewhere in the ‘Futurama’ Universe – and collapsed
forward from her perch on Spike’s hips. She ended up with her head on his
shoulder, laying on her side with most of her body weight on the bed on his
left. One of the Bot’s arms rested on his chest, and one leg draped over his
Spike panted, still licking Buffy’s spendings from his lips. “Can I see
my bloody surprise now?” he gasped out, belatedly adding, “Mistress.”
“As soon as enough parts of my anatomy begin
functioning again,” Buffy replied dreamily.
“I am fully functional,” the Bot offered brightly.
“Bitch…” Buffy murmured. Then more loudly said, “Go
ahead … release the prisoner.”
The Bot retrieved the handcuff key and released one of
Spike’s wrists. As soon as he was free, the blindfold, nose clip, and ear plugs
were yanked off. He looked at his two beautiful bedmates. Buffy was still
flushed with the afterglow of a lovely orgasm as she sprawled in the bed against
his side, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. The Bot, he noted, had
the very same little smile as she walked around unlocking each shackle from his
Spike bit his bottom lip as his eyes roamed over their
naked forms and he breathed in the scent of them. Not that this hadn’t been a
fantasy for him for a long time, and he wasn’t normally one to look a gift horse
in the mouth, but …
“Why … What brought this on?” he asked, looking
curiously at Buffy.
“You don’t like your gift? I’m not sure I can return
it now that we’ve, you know, taken it out of the box and played with it,” she
“I love it, pet. You got no bloody idea, but …”
Buffy huffed out a breath and sat up. “God, Spike.
Don’t you know by now?”
Spike sat up too, looking at her quizzically. “Know
Buffy reached her hand out to the Bot and pulled her
twin back onto the bed next to her now that Spike had been freed. “BuffyBot
loves you and I love you and so … we … wanted to … love you …
together,” Buffy stammered out, her voice getting lower the longer she talked.
Spike stopped breathing. He became so still Buffy
thought he’d turned to marble. Oh God! What had she said? What had she done?
Why did she say that? Bad Buffy!
Spike continued to stare at her,
unmoving, still as a statue. Were those words from her lips akin to gazing upon Medusa? Had she turned him to
“Spike?” Buffy squeaked out
again, her heart and mind racing with what she'd done.
Spike finally blinked. His mouth fell open, then
closed ... then dropped open again but nothing came out for a long minute. “Say
... that … again,” he requested finally,
his voice quavering and unsure.
Buffy cleared her throat uncomfortably. “BuffyBot
“No … the ... the other bit.”
“We wanted to…”
“No, the other bit,” Spike ground out, afraid
to believe what he’d heard her say.
“Oh.” Buffy cleared her throat again and looked down
at her hands which she was wringing nervously in the sheets. She hadn’t really meant to say that earlier – it just came out –
but it was too late to put that back box and return it for a refund. “I love
A thousand angels took flight
inside Spike's chest, their wings beating a joyful rhythm against his heart, lifting
it to heaven.
“Oh, Buffy. Waited so long t’ hear that. Love you so
much, pet,” Spike breathed. He reached out and pulled her into his lap and against him. He
captured her lips with his, devouring her with a feverish kiss. She loved him!
He tasted like sex. He tasted like her. Buffy melted
into him and allowed herself to get lost in the joy of loving and being loved.
She hadn't meant to say that, but she was here now – there was no
un-ringing that bell. The moment was magical, filling the air with static
electricity. Her whole body
thrummed with it, her skin prickled, and her heart soared. Even the knowledge
that their time together would be fleeting couldn't dampen her giddy, school-girl reaction
to saying the words she knew he'd longed to hear. She was here in
his arms now and that was all that mattered in this moment – she could allow
herself to indulge in the magic for a little while. She had no doubt that she’d never feel this again if she lived to be
a hundred – she was going to wallow in it. It would need to last her a lifetime.
After a moment Buffy pulled back to breathe. She
rested her forehead on his, not wanting to get too far away. “But did you like
your present?” she wondered, sounding like a child at Christmas asking their
father if they liked the garish cartoon tie they’d picked out ‘all by
“Bloody brilliant! Best present ever. You got no idea. Loved it, pet.
Love you ... love you both.”
Kissed A Girl, Katy Perry
This was never the way I planned,
not my intention.
I got so brave, drink in hand, lost my discretion
It's not what I'm used to, just wanna try you on.
I'm curious for you, caught my attention.
I kissed a girl and I liked it,
The taste of her cherry Chapstick.
I kissed a girl just to try it,
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it.
It felt so wrong,
It felt so right.
Don't mean I'm in love tonight.
I kissed a girl and I liked it (I liked it).
No, I don't even know your name, it doesn't matter.
You're my experimental game, just human nature.
It's not what good girls do, not how they should behave.
My head gets so confused, hard to obey.
Us girls we are so magical,
Soft skin, red lips, so kissable.
Hard to resist, so touchable.
Too good to deny it.
Ain't no big deal, it's innocent.
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