Dragula

Spike was beyond murderous. The minions fled their recently healed Master. He was bad enough in the chair, and some of them even still had tire treadmark-shaped scars on their body, but now, he was fully healed, pissed off at the world, Drusilla and Angelus.

Even with his legs back, he still didn't take on his Sire. Not that he wasn't sure about the loyalty of his minions, it was that Drusilla would be heart-broken, and a heart-broken Drusilla led to lots of broken bones and new and unique tortures to inflict on her 'pet.'

As much as he loved his Dark Goddess, he couldn't trust her not to put him in a wheelchair...permantly, just because she knew how much he had hated it.

Spike growled, listening to the disgusting sounds of grunts and cries of pain in the room next to his, grabbing a wine bottle off a table he had prepared for Drusilla. She was supposed to come see him, but of course, Angelus had returned from another night of stalking Buffy and came to do his own version of 'staking the vamp.' On the wall, from the sound of things.

He ripped the cork out with his teeth and spat it out with a venomous hiss before taking a deep drag from the red wine.

It drippled down his chin, staining his skin faintly before he snarled and flung the nearly empty bottle against the wall.

"That does it!" He grabbed his duster with another snarl, "Fuck you two!" He screamed at the wall, having no doubt that they heard him, and it was his Sire's phantom laugh that followed him out of the mansion.

Willy flinched as Spike stalked into the Alibi Room, his face set in a hard mask of rage. Good God...not my poor bar...he prayed silently, something he hadn't done since he was a boy and before he became the schoolyard snitch.

Apparently so, because as soon as Spike sat down at the bar, a huge, scaly demon came crashing through the door. He landed on a table, splintering it.

Spike chuckled despite his dark mood, glancing at the demon as he struggled to sit up, "There's only one person who can get that much distance on a Yila demon," He confided to Willy, who decided to make a quick-getaway.

If there was one thing more dangerous then Spike, it was the Slayer, who marched very purposefully through the door, stake in hand.

"You know, my night sucked enough!" She snapped at the demon before whirling on her heel, and kicking the demon upside the head, "But then you had to cause a problem, and look!" She gestured at her grass-stained suede skirt, completely ruined, then punched him several times in the face, "Fifty dollars this cost me! Do you know how much I had to grovel to my mother to get this?!"

Spike watched her fight interestedly, hopping up on the bar and swinging his legs like a kid. "Oops, watch it there, Slayer," He said beneath his breath when she did a flip giving him a very revealing view up her skirt, and he raised an eyebrow at her interesting choice of knickers, but chose to save that comment for himself.

Buffy beat the demon up against the wall, scowl permanatly plastered to her face, "Fucking demons! You have no bleeding respect for fashion!" She twirled her stake before plunging it into his chest, nodding in satisfication when he slumped to the floor dead, then froze, hearing someone laughing behind her.

She turned, eyes widening as Spike smirked at her, "Hiya, cutie," He greeted, holding up his bottle, "Miss me?"

"Spike," Buffy's scowl returned, "You're walking...how unfortunate, for you," She yanked her stake loose from the demon, and Spike held his hands up in surrender, "Hey, now, pet. I'm not here to cause a problem."

"Jeez, luv...you don't know? And here I thought you weren't a natural blond," He held up his bottle, "This, my dear, is a bar. This lovely bottle is filled with liquor, and I," He tapped his chest, "Am planning to get so sloshed that I forget that Dru, the little slut, is currently being pounded into unconciousness by my...Yoda."

"Yeah, right, whatever," Spike smirked at her, "You really think Peaches is acting all chastely without his soul? Ha! He hates me as much as he hates you, Slayer, and this way, he gets to fuck with both of our heads. Two birds, and all that."

Buffy glared at him, but knew he was right. Had she really expected Angel to remain truthful to her? No, not when she was such a bad lay. Drusilla had a hell of a lot more experience, and there had to be something about the vampiress that kept Spike tied to her for more then a hundred years.

"Because," She looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears she refused to allow to be spilt, "Because of me, he lost his soul."

Spike barked out a harsh laugh, "Pet, how in the hell were you supposed to know that those fucking Gypsys were such assholes? I certainly didn't get the memo. Besides, Peaches was the one doing the screwing, so I don't see how this wasn't a joint effort."

"Nice...that's not usually a word you associate with your mortal enemy," He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and Buffy rolled her eyes, "Apparently, it was only a one time deal. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go home and convince my mom not to murder me for ruining my new skirt."

"Tell you what," He dug into his wallet and tossed her a fifty dollar bill, "That's for the entertainment," He grinned to himself, referring to the peek up her skirt rather then the demon being killed, which Buffy thought he met.

"Hmm...maybe I should start selling tickets everytime I'm going out to slay," Buffy mused, surprised despite herself, "But I can't take your money."

Spike grinned wickedly, "Actually, I stole it out of Peaches' wallet. Bastard shouldn't leave his trousers laying about. Stuff goes missing."

Buffy smiled, then hid it real quick, "Thanks," She shoved it in her shoe, giving him a curt nod, "Be seeing you, Spike...good to see you're up and about. We have to face off again real soon."

Real soon translated to about an hour later as Spike clambered up the tree outside Buffy's window. He glanced in her room, frowning when he saw it was empty, then sighed, resigning himself to having return to the mansion and deal with the two insufferable vamps sharing his home. When did I stop thinking of Dru and me as a couple? He asked himself silently, then set his face in a hard mask. He didn't care, why should he? She all but ripped out his heart and crushed it in her delightfully small hand.

Spike was lost in his thoughts of his woman as Buffy entered the room, and he glanced back in. He nearly fell out of the tree right then and there.

She was wearing nothing but a towel, her hair clipped on top of her head haphazardly, threatening to spill over in a golden wave at any moment.

She turned on her radio, sitting down at her vanity as a slow song played. She unclipped her hair and brushed it out till it lay straight and smooth across her back, already half-dry.

Whoa, mate...you're sitting outside the Slayer's bloody window like a peeping tom...she's going to stake your undead arse if she finds you out here.

However, his body was telling his mind to sod off as the music changed and a slow smile spread across her face as she stood up, starting to sway with the heavy, erotic beat.

Spike raised an eyebrow, never pegging her to be one to enjoy that sort of song. He had to give her credit, anyone who dug his man Zombie and not some pisspoor boy-group was all right in his book.

Her deliciously lithe body moved seductively in motions that seemed ancient in their form, but all they were was a young girl dancing to the beat of a song.

She whipped her head around on the chorus, reminding Spike of the time he had watched her dancing with her friends in the Bronze, her entire face open to scrutiny as she lost herself to the sounds of music and the throbbing bodies of the people around her, but now she was alone, and Spike thought she looked wonderfully innocent even with the not-so pure hip swaying.

Spike's eyes widened as the towel slipped away, her arms reaching above her head as she swayed slowly to the ground with an invisible partner, only to raise up again. Her breasts were large and full, swaying with her body, and while Spike's mind was still able to focus, he noted that he was right about her not being a natural blond.

Spike shifted his position on the tree, trying to adjust the uncomfortable bulge biting against the inside of his zipper. He was tempted to release himself, but decided with the part of his mind, the part that wasn't screaming, 'Fuck her,' that is, that she would probably be pissed if she discovered a vampire with a killer erection sitting outside her window while she danced naked.

His eyes almost fell out of his head when she slid her hands over her breasts, her mouth opening slightly as she cupped them, her fingers brushing over the hard nipples.

As Buffy continued her erotic, primal dance, she was unaware of her audiance as her hands slipped down her still damp body, her eyes closed as her fingers dipped into her thatch of brown curls, hissing sharply when she pressed against her clit.

She was unaware of everything, except for that pulsing drums and the harsh tones of Rob Zombie's voice as she listened absently to the lyrics.

Spike...she arched her body as a finger slipped past her folds, gasping as she wormed it deep into her almost virginal passage, feeling the inner walls flutter around it. As she played with herself, she delved into on of her most secret, and ironically, safest fantasies since Angel had lost her soul.

She was imagining it was Spike who was slowly inserting a second finger into her passage, his purrs loud as he whispered sweet little nothings in her ear as he prepared her to accept his large girth. It was a fantasy that caused her no pain to think about, since it didn't remind her of what she had lost with Angel. It was just a fantasy, not based in reality and that was what she needed at the moment.

She was nearing climax as she gritted her teeth, finally stretching herself fully as a third finger entered her body and pressed her gave her clitoris a sharp twist with her free hand.

Her eyes widened, unseeing as her orgasm slammed into her, and she was glad her mother wasn't home as she screamed out in ecastasy, a name escaping from her lips as she collapsed back on her bed, the song finally ending.

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelped, falling out of the tree and rolling into the bushes just as the Slayer's window shot open, and he pressed himself against the side of the house as she looked outside, frowning.

She ducked back inside, shaking her head at herself for being so paranoid as Spike disentangled himself from the shadows.

He stared up at her window for several minutes before the light went out, his mouth open in shock, and his cock still threatening to rip his pants in two.

He limped out her yard to find the nearest secluded area to toss off and think about the implications of what he had heard.

A slow, predator-like smile crossed his face as he looked back down Revello Drive. Fuck Drusilla, Peaches...you can have her...he thought, nearly skipping down the street as he turned his back on Buffy's house once more, I just found something a hell of a lot more sweeter...