Disclaimer: Not mine. Duh. Belongs to Joss and Co. Pffft. Poor Spike is property.





The hell?


Itís... bubbling. I havenít even put the fries in yet.


Whyís it all... bubbly?


"They say bugs fall in there."


Oh, that canít be good. Nummy. Iím frying bugs in the same oil I fry people food with. Yay.


"Oh, Iím back. You can go on your break now."


No fuckiní kidding.


Kill me now. Oh, god, kill me now.


I back away from the fryer and sigh, my eyes starting to sting. No, NO, I am NOT gonna cry. Crying is for wimps, and Iím the mother fucking Slayer. A flash of white and leather catches my eye. I stare kinda hopefully out the drive-thru window. Heís stopped and heís staring back at me.


Spike. Thank... uh, someone.


I take off my stupid, STUPID hat and run my fingers through my hair, pushing it back. Not sure if itís just habitual this time, or if Iím trying to look appealing in the midst of all this gunk. I swallow hard, watching him watch me. He takes an unneeded breath and stalks past the window, clenching his jaw. I keep watching, my heart jumping eagerly. I turn.


<Have to get to Spike. HAVE to get to Spike.>


I push past all the robotic morons working back here and ignore Manny the Manager, trying to get out the back door to the alley. I shove open the door, and there he is.


He knows what I need.


"Címere, kitten." His voice is soft, and it startles me. Itís completely lost itís hard edge. I move toward him, staring almost desperately. Spike takes me in his arms and pulls me close, his arms around my waist. I grasp his biceps tightly.


God, take it all away.


He leans in and kisses me, softly, sweetly, like heís... reassuring me or something. And I kiss him back. I have to... I hafta get closer to him, hafta feel him, hafta feel him WANT ME, need to know him again. FUCK morals and scruples.


I need HIM.


"Spike, please," I whimper, pulling away. He takes one of my hands, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Kay, Ďm not getting him. Whyís he being so sweet? Why isnít he being Spike or, or Mr. Grabby? Iím confused. Spike looks up at me, resting his forehead against mine. His hands are between us, gently opening my pants. Argh, please, just take them off already.


"I got you, baby... Daddyís got you," he murmurs. He jerks my pants down. Oh, thatís it... I touch his face and kiss him, my hands sneaking down and unbuttoning HIS jeans. Oooh. I LIKE it when he goes commando.


I slip my shoes off, and he steps down on my pants as I wriggle out of them and slide them to the ground. He lifts me up and pulls my thong aside, pulling his long cock out and pressing the thick head against my clit. I whimper softly and rub against him, pushing down and letting him slide into me. He lets out a groan and grabs my legs, wrapping them around his waist. He pushes all the way inside.


Holy shit, I still canít get over how big he is.




Was that me? Oh, who cares. Can you blame me if it was? It feels fucking incredible. Heís just so... big. And wide. And long. Holy shit. He hits it every time.


He gently presses me against the wall and I slide down some, until weíre at eye level. Spike buries his face in my right shoulder and I rest my head against his. Slowly, he starts pumping, sliding in and out easily. I was SO ready for him Ė Iíd been thinking about him ever since he visited me yesterday night.


Heís being so gentle with me. His strokes are slow and careful, passionate and loving. Heís making me crazy. Spikeís got both hands on the wall next to me, and I have a vice grip with my hands on his biceps, clutching him through his duster. My breathing is going awry and Iím nipping gently at his ear. He feels so good that itís like a sin.


Wait... it IS a sin.


So this is what Iíve resorted to, then. Iíve come back from the dead for the second time. I have a younger sister and an unstable friend to take care of. I have no money. Iím forced to work in a yucky, greasy restaurant where they serve cat burgers (probably). My mortal enemy, who is no longer my mortal enemy, is in love with me and amazingly, is the only one I can turn to about anything anymore. I hate the idea that I might be falling for him, because Iíve opened myself up too many times, and gotten hurt, and there is NO WAY that getting involved with another vampire will be of the good. Yet no matter what I do to stay away, I keep coming back, keep getting drawn to him like a magnet, because he understands me.


And now Iím having sex with him in the alley behind my so-called "job."


I wanna cry.


But I canít. Because then Spike would worry. And I donít want him to worry. I just want him to comfort me right now. I need him to comfort me, to take the pain away. I need him to be there for me, to just... love me.


Which is exactly what heís doing. Loving me. In his mind, Spikeís making love to me. And the thought doesnít repulse me as it would have once, long ago.


He pulls his face away from my shoulder, and I turn my face toward his, lifting my head. We look at each other, and my lips hover near his, expecting a gentle kiss.


His lips donít meet mine; instead we move our face in opposite directions. He rests his head against my left shoulder, kissing my neck softly. I stare off to the right, just holding onto him.


Why does my life (and death) have to be such a joke? Is it just one big load of bull to the Powers? How could they do this to me, to Spike? I KNOW they know about his love for me. I donít understand why, though, they have to push us together like this, when they KNOW, damn well, that itís wrong. It... this thing between us... it canít ever be anything. No matter how he makes me feel.


But I need him here. To keep me stable, to remind me of who I am and what I need to be. I need him to help me find my strength again.


I turn my head back to his and softly kiss his temple. He looks up at me, his sparkling blue eyes meeting mine. And we lean in simultaneously, our lips meeting and acknowledging the request for a kiss I had made earlier.


Iím NOT using him. Spikeís here of his own will. You know he is.


Iím not letting Spike have me because heís THERE; because heís a man, and because I throw myself at him. Iím not taking advantage of the fact that he loves me. Spikeís the only one who can get through to me. So Iím letting him have me because he IS there. Heís there, for me and because of me, in spite of when I donít want him to be. Because HE wants to be.


And because now, I want him to be, too.


As he brings me to a dizzying orgasm, releasing his own seed deeply inside of me, he soothingly muffles my cries with his soft pink lips.


He loves me. I acknowledge this.


I accept it.


Because I need it.


Because I need HIM.


And because I think I always will.


"I love you," he whispers.


I look at him, nodding in acknowledgement, and kiss him once more. Then I dress and watch him as he walks out of the alley, his duster lapping at his legs.


I go back to work.







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