TITLE: you've got spike (14/?)

AUTHOR: michelle/shelly

EMAIL: mwkpdp@prodigy.net, mlwilkins@ucdavis.edu

RATING: pg.  overall nc17. for icky phone sex and for

xander/spike/anya sex

DISCLAIMERS: all belong to joss and those others. just having non

profit fun.

SPOILERS: through season 6.  but canon has been recklessly tossed

aside for giggles.

PAIRING: xander/spike/anya

SUMMARY:  whoo!  sex is over.  back with the giggles.

(Authors notes:  He said:  "so what?  i tell you Anya's name is all

wrong and you send it out *any*way?  why do i proofread for you

again?"  i said: "um...because i *beta* for you?  i beta your sick,

twisted, *** stuff?" he said:  "oh, yeah.  right.  how come you can

beta but you cant *see* your own stuff?!"  And *I* said.  "well, duh.

i think *I'm* special and dont see any mistakes.  *and* um..i sent the

wrong version out...but nevermind.  it was just the icky sex part,

anyway...and then he called me names, the meanie!

so, yeah.  *anya*...yeah.  right.  i suck.  she's my new angle.

um...*angel*)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~

Taps sounded softly and Spike moved closer to the furnace like heat of

Xander's body.  Xander snuggled closer but didn't wake.  Spike reached

out to run a hand along Anya's arm.  She moved closer but did not

wake.  Spike snickered.  It *was* morning, wasn't it?  He reached out

and grabbed Anya's arm, pulling it across Xander's body, he drew her

fingers into his mouth, sucking on them.  They flexed in his mouth but

she didn't wake.  He spit them out, disgusted.  Spike ran his tongue

over Xander's ear, tracing the shape of it before sucking the lobe

into his mouth.  Nothing.  He bit.  Xander moaned and moved his head

closer to Spike's mouth, but still, he didn't wake.  Spike spit

Xander's ear lobe out in disgust.  He poked at Anya.  She shifted.  He

poked at Xander.  He shifted.  He poked at them both.  They shifted,

mumbling, but didn't flicker an eyelash.

Taps sounded again.

"Fire!"  Spike shouted, evilly.

Nothing.  Although Spike was almost sure Xander mumbled, "put it out"

as he moved closer to Spike's body.  Spike made a note to purchase the

most shrill-sounding, most evilly pitch shifting, smoke-alarm on the

market and to test it out as soon as possible.  As soon as possible

while these two were dead asleep and ignoring him once again.  He

poked at them once more.  They shifted and snuggled into each other,

leaving Spike snuggle free.

Spike sat up, glaring at them.  "Well hell.  Lazy so and so's."

They'd had at least two hours of sleep, the both of them.

Taps sounded again and Spike got up, picking up his clothes and pager

along the way, padding naked into the Spike room.  Too early for a

call, so he knew it had to be Patty, just being nosey.  He stopped in

the bathroom to rinse out his mouth.  Hard, red rubber plastic did not

carry its palatability over to the next morning.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"You've got Spike."

Patty giggled.  "Yes.  *I've* got Spike.  But, question is, did

someone *else* have Spike?"

"Wot?  You know I'm a slut, Pat.  Frightfully indiscriminant with

those that get me, I am.  It's disgusting, really.  I should be

ashamed of myself, but sadly, I'm not.  Question should be:  Who

*hasn't* had Spike?"

"Um?  What are you talking about?  I mean, how was last night?"

"Fine.  Went to a carnival, you know that.  Rode rides.  Ate spun

sugar.  Won things with my arm's ability to throw at a distant target.

The kids would have loved it.  They would have been very impressed

with my arm.  Your girl most especially."

"Huh.  And that's it.  *That* was your night?  Your *whole* night?"

"You sound snappish, luv.  Are you snapping at me, miss?"

"No!"  Patty snapped.  "I'm not.  I don't *snap*, fool!  Don't be so

sensitive.  It's early.  You know me and early.  What else did you do

last night?"

"Went for a walk.  Got some ciggs."  Spike swiped up the cards and

dealt out a hand of solitaire.  "Say, Patty. . .seeing as how I *do*

know your anti-morning fetish and have always loved you for it,

what's with the early call?"

Patty sighed over the line.  "Did anything happen between your walk

and my call?"

"Oh.  Oooo.  Oh, my yes.  Grrrr."  Spike snickered over the line.

"Why do you ask?"

"Did you have sex with Xander and Anya last night?"  Patty demanded.

Spike snickered.

"You *did*!  You slut!  You beast!  You *an*imal!"  Patty giggled.

"You're so going to hell you slut-beast, you."

"Yeah, but I already knew that."  Spike told her casually, lining up a

red queen with a black king.  "And luv, I did *not* initiate sex.  Not

once.  Well, okay. . . those other times, but that was *after* they

tied me to the bed and had their evil way with me."  Spike told her.

He cleared his throat, aware that he had just sounded like a teenaged

girl.  Black jack on red queen.  "Um.  Well.  They wanted Spike,

Patty.  What can I say?"

"Was it mind blowing, sexy, good *fun*?"

"It was."

"Can I play next time?"

Pause.  Red six on black seven.  Move king.  Flip.  Black five on red

six.

"I'm *kidding*, Spike!  Ick!  Like I'd ever have sex with *you*!"

"Luv!  It wasn't *that*.  I was just thinking that if *you* wanted to

play, perhaps, you know, once she's sixteen, you'd let your daughter

play, too."

"Go to hell, Spike.  And, for the record, it's *eighteen* years old."

"Humph.  Who'd want to have sex with an eighteen year old and her

mother when you can have sex with a *sixteen* year old and her

mother?"

"Ha. Fucking ha.  Anyway, you're too white and too skinny for my baby

girl.  And you're changing the subject.  You had sex with Xander and

Anya.  And I'm just tickled.  It's so cute.  You guys are so cute.

Really.  You know I don't go for these wacky threesome things, but you

guys?  You guys can make it work.  Really.  Where are they?"

Ace of clubs up.  Ace of spades up.  Two of clubs up.  Black four on

red five.

"Where are they?"

"Huh?  What?  Playing solitaire, luv, wasn't listening to your

chatter.  What did you say?"

"You're playing solitaire after hot and wild sex with your couple?

What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Spike coughed, making sure his mouth was over the voice piece.  "Well.

I *did* have to answer my page.  Who was it paged me?"

"You didn't have to answer the page!"

"True.  But they slept through it."

"So?"

"Well, they slept through poking and sucking too.  And a shout of

fire."

Patty giggled.  "Wore 'em out, did you?"

"I did."  Spike was sure Patty could *see* his proud grin over the

phone lines.

"Glad to know it's not all talk with you, my boy."

"Humph.  Well, they *were* a bit afraid to try out some of your more

adventurous scenarios."

"Well, hell.  That only makes 'em sane.  Or sorta sane.  Or.  Um.

Well, fuck.  We do some sick shit, Spike.  Ease 'em into our best

stuff, kay?"

"Bollocks.  I'm outta moves."

"What?  Just what the hell did you *do* last night?"

"No, no.  Solitaire.  I'm out of plays."

"Glad to know I can hold your interest, Spike."

"It's habit, Pat.  Can't talk on the phone without doing something

else.  Nothing personal, pet."

Patty snickered.  "You should go make them breakfast."

Spike laughed.  "Shouldn't they make *me* breakfast?  They came after

me, remember, pet.  In more ways than the one, too."

"But you don't like breakfast.  And you're up."

"Evil logic-woman, be gone!  Give to me your blood ripe daughter,

instead."

Patty giggled.  "You really do one of the best Draculas I've ever

heard, Spike.  It's great.  No wonder the freaks love it so.  But

really, just go make 'em breakfast and kiss 'em good morning.  New

lovers love that stuff.  Play like nothing really different happened;

it'll freak 'em out and it'll be fun for you.  And what?  We're off

today, right?"

"We are.  No calls for us.  What are you going to do without me, pet?"

"Um, I'm gonna go to *work*, dude.  This is my *second* job; remember?

*And* I'm gonna leave you as soon as I get my new car down-payment

money!"

"Yeah, yeah.  You people and your lives *outside* of phonesex.  I pity

you."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have sugar-couples to keep us in cards and

home while we loll around the phone waiting for callers."

"And I pity you for that, also, you poor dears."

"As you should!  Go cook breakfast for your sugar-couple.  As I am off

to make breakfast for my parasite like, but very cute and

entertaining, offspring.  Talk to ya later, Spike, you hot-slut-beast,

couple-satisfying, sex-*god*, you!"

"Bout time you got the nick name right, at least."

Spike dealt out another hand of solitaire.  "Why should I cook?  Don't

need to *eat* do I?"  The hand gave out three plays before he resorted

to cheating.  "Oh, fine."  He tossed the cards down.  "I'll go cook."

He snipped at no one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Spike was sipping at a warm mixture of blood and coffee, had biscuits

in the oven, bacon frying and was whipping eggs when the phone rang.

"Yeah?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah, watcher.  What?"

Pause.

"Giles?"

"Oh, yes, well.  I wanted to ask you a question."

"And so you called me.  Yer getting more clever by the day, aren't

you, luv?"

"Yes.  I mean, no.  I mean. . .is Anya about?"

"Sleep.  Thought you said you wanted *me*?"

"Oh, well.  Yes, of course, it's just that, on her day off, Anya

usually answers.  The phone, I mean.  Anya usually picks up."

"Yeah.  Well, she's still sleeping."

Pause.

"I don't bloody well have them tied up, Giles.  I cut all the ropes

before I came to the phone."

Pause.

"That was a-"

"Joke!  Yes, I'm sure it was, Spike."  Sigh.  "I just wanted to . .

.they *aren't* tied up are they, Spike?"

"No, Giles.  Put yer specs back on, pet.  Want me to wake Anya up so's

you can ask her to put me on?"

Pause.  "Um.  No?"

Spike poured his eggs on to the girdle and began to scramble.  "Shall

I have her call you back so you can speak to me, Ru-perrrt?"

"No.  Of course not."  Pause.  Spike said nothing.  "You speak several

demon dialects?"

"I do."  Whip, whip.  Cheese.

"Do, um, do you *read* many?"

"Cheese."  Spike mumbled.

"Beg pardon?  What's that you said?  You read cheese?"

"Huh?  What?  No.  I mean, cheese for the *eggs*.  Never learned any

cheese dialect.  But, yeah, I can read some.  Those that *have* a

written dialect, that is."  Spike scrapped out eggs onto plates and

pulled out his biscuits.  "Not a lot do, though."

"Know any Pa'tallian?"

"I can understand some of it.  Can't read any.  They don't have a

written dialect that I know of, anyway.  They're treasure hunters;

never carve or write anything down that can be used by others.  Mostly

story tellers; pass them down.  Didn't want anything to fall into the

wrong hands.  That it?  I've got biscuits to butter, watcher!"

"Oh, so a Pa'tallian map that I'd have. . ."

"Would be a fake."

"Oh, well, that's very disappointing."

"Yeah, if you were looking for their treasure, yes it would be.

Sorry.  You'll have to catch one, just like a leprechaun."

"Oh.  Well, then.  Never mind."

Pause.

"I'll have Anya call you."

"No, no, quite unnecessary, that."  Pause.  "Spike?"

"Wot!?"

"What *are* you doing?"

"I'm cooking, bloody, breakfast for, bloody, Anya and, bloody, Xander

and you have me buttering, bloody, cold, buggering, biscuits!"

"Oh, yes, well.  Of course."

Pause.

"Yes, Giles?"

"We'll have another dinner party soon, I hope, yes?"  Giles was still

chuckling when Spike slammed down the phone.