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Strange Partners

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Screaming probably wouldn’t help.

Plus it would scare people.

Letting all her frustration out in one fell swoop did sound appealing, however. Buffy had had enough. She’d moved out of the dorm, found out her sister wasn’t really her sister (kind of), had to deal with Riley being needy, her mom being sick, and now terrible people. Humans were supposed to be the good guys, though that binary hadn’t been working well for her for a long time.

Stupid Initiative.

How could Tara’s family treat her like that? Telling her what to do and where she belonged. Buffy looked heavenward. “Yeah, I get the irony.”

“What was that?” Giles asked.

“Nothing,” she called. Why had Tara been so worried about being part demon? If there was a group of people that should be open minded about the whole thing, it was the scoobies. Maybe. Possibly. They tried.

She grabbed the body of the demon she’d broken the neck of and hauled it by its ankles into the training room before dropping it. She’d deal with the two bodies…three? There was a third one with an axe in its head. Buffy pulled the weapon free and frowned at the blade. She hadn’t done that. The fight had been chaotic but it wasn’t like she would forget cleaving something’s skull open. So who?

Spike.

He’d come from the back room.

When her invisible assailants had first struck they had seemed to be everywhere, but then things had gotten easier, like the number of attackers had dropped from two to one. Buffy blinked. Spike would have been invisible too, because of the spell. He’d helped her, probably saved her life, and hadn’t said a thing about it. That was weird.

Turning on her heel she rushed back to the main part of the store but he was nowhere to be seen. “Where’d Spike go?” she asked the room in general.

Anya shrugged a shoulder. “I think he left a while ago.”

“Oh.” Buffy wrinkled her nose and jogged to the back door, but he wasn’t out there loitering or littering the pavement with cigarette butts. That was too bad, she would have liked to have said something because it was nice of him to have helped. Though he might not appreciate being told that and launch into some long-winded defense of how evil he was, which she would have to stand there and listen to while staring at him.

Because that would be a hardship , a little voice in the back of her brain said. It was one she liked to pretend didn’t exist.

With a huff, she returned to cleaning up the back room. How long had Spike been there, anyway? Had he been watching her work out? Like, eww. She ignored the faint throb from her nether regions. If he had he was so dead. Which he should be anyway. That was how she should be thinking of him, all dry and dusty.

The annoying little voice popped back up. Not much dry when you think about Spike…

Buffy wanted to scream again.

Snapping off the lights in the back she marched to the front of the store and grabbed the broom from Dawn, who shrugged and went to help Tara neaten a shelf instead. Frustrated sweeping was at least cathartic.

Lately she’d been doing frustrated everything, but It wasn’t her fault that her boyfriend was still…learning how to please her. Though it was kind of her fault that she’d gotten bored that one time and had wiggled and moaned while doing a little squeezing. Riley had been so thrilled that he’d gotten her off. Since then she’d been repeating the performance so she didn’t hurt his feelings. Though it sort of hurt hers that he had no clue.

No to mention that if she wanted an orgasm, she had to click her own mouse, which tended to lead to all kinds of bad thoughts. None of which were about Riley. She could pretend some of them were about Angel. Only she was still mad at him for being pretty much useless for more than a year now.

At least Angel had known where her clit was.

Maybe she could draw Riley a map.

The teeny voice spoke up one more time. I bet Spike doesn’t need a map…

“Shut up!” she snapped. Her brain was being ridiculous.

“What?” Xander looked up from the book he was napping over. “What’d I do? Or not do?”

“Nothing.” Buffy frowned. “Though Giles might not want you drooling on the manuscripts.”

“I wasn’t drooling, my mouth just sprung a leak.”

Buffy snorted. “You should probably leak somewhere else.”

Giles came out of his office with a book in his hand. “I think we’re done for tonight. I’ll pull the car around back, if you’d be so good to help me with the bodies, Buffy.”

“Sure.” That sounded like fun, not. At least it kept her from going home and sitting in the dark while thinking more about…uh…nothing, nothing at all. She sighed. “I’ll help you get the insane clown posse loaded up.”

She wondered were Riley had gotten to. He’d be helpful right about now. Instead she was left wishing for a strong pair or arms to hold her–that most certainly weren’t cold– and a big, thick…uh, slice of pizza to eat.

****

It’d been a sodding terrible night.

“She could have at least said thank you,” Spike muttered to himself. “Thanks for saving my bloody life! Thanks for giving yourself a blasted migraine for my friend! Thanks for not finding a way for me to fall into a pit of spears and be skewered to death! But no!” He looked heavenward. “I don’t even get a pat on the back or so much as looked at twice. Should have just let her get killed.”

That was a lie. He was getting good at those. Go watch the Slayer get murdered. Ha! Good one, Spike. Now if he’d known she and her mates hadn’t been able to see demons…

He’d have taken out the whole lot of Lei-Achs and followed Buffy home. Right into her girly bedroom. Spike paused just inside the gate to Restfield cemetery as his imagination caught up with him. What did the Slayer wear to bed? A frilly little nightgown? Nothing at all? She would have been worked up after that fight and soldier boy hadn’t been there, so she’d need release.

He groaned, what he wouldn’t give to be the one to provide it to her.

In his mind, Buffy pulled off the top she’d been wearing, then her jeans. She shimmied out of her panties and left them laying on the floor.

Walking slower and a lot more awkwardly with the erection the image of a naked Buffy crawling into bed had given him, he continued towards his crypt. It was too bad no one was waiting for him there. Harmony had gotten too annoying weeks ago and Spike had tossed her out on her ass, but that left him with no one besides Rosie Palm and her five sisters for company. He groaned. Just seeing Buffy was enough to set him off, let alone watching her fight.

It was such a cruel joke. Feelings for a Slayer.

She was magnificent. How she fought, how she stood up for her family and friends, how she never gave up, her scent, how she filled out a pair of jeans, how her tits bounced when she…

He was so buggered.

Fate, the bitch, could have at least let him get a good peek at Buffy naked. Did she have any tan lines at all? His imagination didn’t seem to think so. He returned to his fantasy of Buffy on all fours on her bed, her plump little pussy on display, unknowingly wagging her behind at invisible him. She sighed. “That Riley just isn’t doing it for me. I need a guy who can really fuck me hard.”

Spike paused. Would Buffy say fuck? Was there a cute, Valley-girl thing she’d say instead? Oh balls, it was his fantasy, she could talk dirty. And there was zero doubt in his mind that Riley wasn’t giving Buffy what she needed. If he was she wouldn’t be so bitchy all the time. It be a blasted public service if the wanker could get her off.

Fantasy-Buffy groaned and slipped a hand between her legs. “I bet Spike could make me come,” she panted. Damn right he could. His hand pushed against his hard-on. One night, hell one time, and she’d be his. Mr. Boring boyfriend would be hung out to dry.

Christ, at this rate he wasn’t even going to make it to his crypt.

He did his best to push pause on the Buffy-porno. He didn’t need to be caught out in the open with his pants literally down around his ankles.

He stuck his hands in his duster pockets to keep them from doing something like unzipping his fly and tried to focus on unpleasant ideas, like Giles in a speedo, instead. That almost did the trick, except that his mind placed said Giles into Fantasy-Buffy’s bedroom.

Y’know, he’d always wondered about those two. They were bloody close for being Slayer and Watcher. Spike shook his head and banished Giles from his thoughts. Whatever real-Buffy was up to–and he hoped it wasn’t diddling her Watcher on the side–Fantasy-Buffy certainly didn’t want the berk.

Spike sighed in relief as his crypt came into view. In his daydream, he knocked something off Fantasy-Buffy’s dresser. Startled, she jumped up. “Who’s there?” Fantasy-him was already naked. He reached out and flicked  the end of her nose. Her fists came up and her tits swayed. Oh yeah, that was the ticket. He aimed a punch at her face, but she blocked him (in his fantasies the chip never worked). She countered with a swing at his gut. He caught her arm and spun her before pulling her back against him so he could grind his erection against her ass.

“Spike?” Fantasy-Buffy whispered.

“You know it,” he rumbled back. She bucked against him, probably trying to throw him off, but it had the effect of letting her get a real good feel of his cock. She moaned.

The door to his crypt creaked open as Spike hurried inside. For a second he thought he could hear high-pitched laughter. He must have left the bloody TV on again. Spike slammed the door closed and leaned against it. His belt jingled as he unbuckled it.

Oh, thank god.

He wrapped his hand around his aching prick.