Author: BlueAngelWings

E-mail: spikesslayersweetie@hotmail.com

Rating: R/NC-17

Feedback: Give it to me good! All those who send me feedback: may you be blessed with many chocolate-covered Spikes. ;-)

Classification: Spike/Buffy

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. Only the story is mine; BtVS belongs to Joss and Co.

Spoilers: A couple for Season Five.

Distribution: Please e-mail me. I would like to know where it’s going to be posted and so on, but I almost always say yes.

Summary: With all the serious stuff going on, we need something that’s almost scarily fluffy. ;-) Buffy can’t sleep, Spike’s…err…under-dressed…Ooh, what’s going to happen from there? Rated R and then NC-17.

Author’s Note: This is my absolute first attempt at a smut fic…so if you must flame me…try to go easy, okay? ;-) I divided it into two parts…for really no good reason actually. I kind of chickened out and ended up making the first part R, and then the second (NC-17) part is coming along, as soon as I have less of the evil homework assignments that are the plague of my life. If people actually like it then I’ll work faster, of course.

Insomnia

Bang! Buffy pushed the door open so hard that it almost flew off its hinges. She stomped into the house, dropped her slaying bag, and slammed down some books that Giles had told her to read, and promptly sneezed as the dust from them irritated her nose. They were supposedly going to help her prepare to face the hell-bitch otherwise known as Glory. Buffy was momentarily satisfied by the noisy thud that all of her things made as they made contact with the floor and table.

She started up the stairs into her room, trying hard to resist the urge to stomp. The light was off, so Buffy accidentally tripped over a pair of shoes on the floor…chunky black boots. What was she thinking when she bought them? It’s not like she had anyone to care whether she looked good or not or anyone to dress up for. She could go around wearing last year’s clothes and no one would care…except for maybe her own body rebelling against them. Yeah right…with slaying and researching and taking care of her sister, how was she supposed to have enough time to be Miss Fashion Queen?

Buffy let out a string of cuss words that she thought she’d never say in her life, and kicked the shoes viciously out of the way. Where they promptly collided into the lamp, which made a nice, loud crash as shards flew everywhere. One left a small cut on the back of her hand. It didn’t serve to improve her dark mood at all. With a growl that would scare the living daylights out of any demon, she began undressing, ignoring the cut.

She was one pissed off Slayer. Her day had been so horrible that it wasn’t even funny. When she had gotten up in the morning, she could feel it from the top of her blonde head to the tips of her red-painted toenails that it was going to be one hell of a day. Everything had gone terribly wrong, from her burnt attempt at breakfast, to the spilt coffee over her favorite silk top, to training, to patrol…

And Spike! She couldn’t even begin to describe how absolutely infuriating he had been. Buffy was seriously regretting not staking him while she had the chance. Because now she couldn’t stake him. And why exactly couldn’t she stake him now? A voice in her head asked. Because…well, because…ummm…

Because he had a chip in his head, that’s why! It was against the rules of the Buffy Hand-Book to kill something so helpless and weak...and that she pitied…and errrr…

But more importantly! It didn’t matter why she didn’t stake him or not. She hated the bleached blonde, rude, disgusting, Billy Idol wanna-be, mocking, sarcastic, fashion disaster vampire with a passion. And he was also mean, perverted, cynical, aggravating, with an ugly accent - well, it could be kind of cute - gentle, sweet, poetic, kind of sexy – okay, almost very sexy - and in love with her, and…whoa. Wait a minute. That was a major curve ball…She did NOT want to go there. Buffy was rapidly entering a territory that she would rather not think about. She returned to her true valley girl roots, and muttered a curt, "Whatever."

Getting back on topic, Buffy was looking forward to crawling under her cozy covers and never, ever coming out again. Well, at least not for another couple of hours, before she had to get up to drive Dawn to school, which was not a pleasant thought…leaving her soft, comfortable bed to stumble around for car keys while trying to get dressed.

She sighed, her anger and rage draining away slowly, leaving a tired ache behind. Buffy blissfully sank down into the tub, languidly stretching among the vanilla scented bubbles. After a nice soak, she decided to forget about the underwear, and put on a silky, sleeveless pajama top. Then came the matching silk drawstring shorts. The pajama ensemble felt wonderful against her bare skin. She knew the jade green brought out the color of her eyes although no one was there to see, obviously.

Buffy turned on her side in her bed, trying to go to sleep. But somehow, tonight was different. No matter how she tossed and turned she couldn’t get comfortable. Normally, all she had to do was shut her eyes, and sleep would come overtake her. Tonight she was hyper-alert, and kept on noticing how bright the moon was, how loudly the crickets chirped…how red the numbers on her digital clock were.

"Argh!" Buffy sat straight up and let out a groan of frustration. "Of all the nights to have insomnia!" She grumbled as loud as she dared, for fear of waking Dawn. "I have to worry about Glory, my mom just died, my sister is a green, glowy thing of mystical energy, I have to help everyone research about the aforementioned hell-bitch, I have to train, I have longer patrol since the vampires have increased in numbers, although they aren’t any smarter! I have to get up in four hours, and worse of all, I have to patrol with Spike tomorrow!" Buffy continued to depress herself by whining.

She wanted to; no she needed to, channel her anger somehow. Racking her brain for someone to blame or much preferably, punch, she immediately landed on a person…or vampire. Spike. Buffy swung her legs over the side of her bed. She tied her hair up in a loose knot and walked downstairs. She grabbed a long jacket and buttoned it up over her sleep-wear, not caring that she wasn’t decently dressed. Buffy almost made it to the door before tripping over something else. Her slaying bag that she had left by the door. She cursed and walked out, locking the door securely. It had been her record day for cussing, about 79 words. And what did it say about her that she kept track? How pathetic!

Buffy headed determinedly towards a certain vampire’s crypt. Ooh, is he gonna get it. She muttered to herself vindictively, her hands almost quivering with the intense desire of a "decent spot of violence". And now she was quoting him! That was just too far. God, was he really going to get it. Reaching her destination, Buffy kicked the door open as only a mad and insomniac Slayer could. She was about to begin one of her infamous rants, when she stopped and closed her mouth. Only for it to fall back open again. She had realized something. Something that could be very good…or very bad. Well, from here it certainly looked like it was leaning towards the good side, Buffy thought, and immediately gave herself a mental slap. Bad, evil, horrible, icky, bad, bad, bad Buffy…

Because Spike was naked. Buffy snapped her jaw shut and made herself turn away.

"Hello love." Spike said, amused by Buffy’s actions. He made no motion to get dressed.

"Well?" Buffy snapped, finding her voice and anger again. His shirtless state only served to fuel her growing rage. Why was she mad? She had no idea. But she was mad. "Get dressed! It repulses me to look at you when you’re half-naked. Not that you look any better dressed." Buffy smirked as she lied through her teeth. In fact, he would look good in anything…covered in peanut butter, smeared with cheese, naked, in those horrendous Hawaiian shirts of a dreadful orange shade…Uh-oh. Another mental slap for Buffy. She grabbed a pillow from the couch nearby and opened one eye to aim it for his lap when she tossed it. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, the mantra in her head continued.

He returned her smirk and caught the pillow easily. "It didn’t seem like that a second ago." He said, pulling on his black jeans. "If I didn’t know better I’d say that you were staring. But that’s all right love, look your fill." Only a Slayer’s superior hearing could have picked that up. And Buffy picked that up quite clearly. "Shut up!" She said. Before they both knew what had happened, Spike was lying on the floor, face upwards, with Buffy straddling his chest.

"Awww, does the Slayer wanna play dirty now?" Spike laughed. Buffy glared at him, and then noticed that his jeans were unbuttoned.

"Button your jeans!" She commanded loudly.

"Only if you ask nicely." Spike was clearly enjoying torturing her.

"Argh! Button your damn jeans!"

"Make me, Slayer."

"The classic response of a first-grader!"

Buffy glared and squirmed and frowned and scowled and glowered Spike wouldn’t budge. "Stop squirming." He told her. She pretended not to hear and slowly reached her hand down to the button of his jeans, when he grabbed her hand and held on.

"Hey!" She exclaimed. "Let me go…you, you, you…disgusting freak!" He grasped her hand firmly, but not enough so that it would activate his chip.

He snorted. "You wound me, Slayer."

"Oh, I’ll do more than wound you when you let go…" She muttered.

"Look at me, love. I have an important question." He said. Buffy pouted and refused to meet his gaze, until he placed a finger underneath her chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes shot daggers at him.

But all conscious thoughts fled from her mind when he leaned by her ear, so that the fine hairs of her earlobe were tickled, and whispered…

"Why do you even care if the damn jeans are buttoned?"

"Because!"

"Well you just seemed a little…"

"Shut up!"

"No.

"Spike!"

"Slayer!"

"Mmph."

Buffy crushed her lips against his. Hey…she thought as they stumbled towards his bed. Insomnia can be kind of fun.

If this is a dream…thought Spike, please don’t let it end, not for a long, long time. He inhaled the smell of her hair as he ripped the coat off of her and eyed her sleep-wear appreciatively.

"That was a new coat!" She said, although a note of teasing was evident in her voice.

"I’ll buy you a new bloody coat. Besides, you look better without it on…or anything on for that matter."

Buffy blushed, but retorted hotly. "Where would you get the money? You don’t have any money. Would you steal it from me or Giles or Xander and then say that it was yours and then – "

Spike kissed her again, this time a hot, open-mouthed kiss that gave Buffy much more interesting uses for her tongue. "You know I’m just doing that to shut you up, right, pet?" He grinned. "It has nothing to do with liking you at all. Or loving you. I just really want you to shut the bleedin’ hell up, Slayer. For more than five seconds at a time."

"Of course." She replied, breathless, as she leaned in for another kiss. "I hate you too. It has nothing to do with how sexy you are."

"You think I’m – "

"No. Shut up, Spike."

"Hey, well, it’s not my bloody fault that the ladies find me so damn irresistible."

"Spike. Enough with the ego-stroking."

"Right. Because you know, Slayer, why stroke an ego when you could be stroking – "

"Oh my God! Spike, you’re a pig."

Buffy couldn’t help but let out a giggle despite her shock, but her laughter quickly disappeared when Spike lifted her onto the bed, and kissed her exposed navel as he climbed in beside her.

"All jokes aside…" He whispered, staring deep into her eyes, seemingly trying to bore a hole into her soul…"Are you sure…? I mean…" He swallowed. "We can stop." He swallowed again, and Buffy saw the lust, love, and mixed emotions fighting for dominance in his eyes. Her eyes traveled down to his pants, and the bulge there grew when her gaze rested there.

He remained silent, not ashamed of his telltale body that showed how much he really wanted her and how aroused she made him. Spike waited for her to speak, patiently, like he had always done and always would do. He cursed himself in his head…why did he have to stop and ask? What a nancy-boy…It had been going so well. Because you don’t want her to wake up the next morning and hate herself…and hate you. His sensible side silently admonished him. He swallowed for the third time as he watched her, lying there, tousled and warm in his bed, with seductive come-hither eyes. His bed would smell like her, even if she said no and left…like she probably would. He would breathe in the scent of her and let it wrap around him and he would sleep, inhaling her unique smell as she walked back out. Wanker, another side of him laughed at his stupidity.

But her smell was his oxygen. He didn’t need to breathe, but he needed the smell of her…wanted the taste of her so badly…he wanted to…Spike stopped himself there.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever. Spike closed his eyes, already prepared for rejection, knowing that it was too good to be true.

Then he felt tiny hands at his crotch, sliding the black jeans off, until they landed in a puddle on the floor. Buffy didn’t say a word, but the tiny smile on her face told him everything that he needed to know…

Part 2 (NC-17!!)