With a deep, nervous breath, Buffy stepped into the Magic Box, setting the chimes on the door jingling.

“Welcome to the Magic Box, how may I take your mon—?” Anya’s bright voice paused when she saw who had just entered. “Oh, it’s you,” she said, sounding terribly disappointed. Then, she perked up again. “Would you like to buy something?” she suggested hopefully. “Perhaps in compensation of the fact that I had to spend my own money to buy you a birthday present?”

Buffy barely managed not to roll her eyes. “Not this time,” she said apologetically. “Is Giles here?”

Anya’s shoulders slumped once more, and she returned to the receipts she’d been recording. “He’s in the basement, cataloguing our latest shipment,” she said disinterestedly.

Buffy nodded her thanks and made her way slowly toward the basement door, every second becoming even more anxious about this conversation. She knew last night had been some sort of strange supernatural occurrence, but she couldn’t really go up to Giles and say, “Mystical forces made me screw Spike into the ground,” now could she? Her poor Watcher would probably have a heart attack. He’d already been traumatized enough by her and Spike’s brief magically-induced engagement two years ago.

But, really, she didn’t know what else to tell him. And she especially didn’t know what to say if and when Giles demanded whether the fuckfest last night had any precursors.

Because she really, really didn’t want to have to inform her Watcher that she’d spent the last two years working at Spike’s side and taking ample notes about the tightness of his butt and the size of his hard-on and the fullness of his lower lip. And she especially didn’t want to mention the night when she’d come to the Magic Box late only to find Spike, shirtless, working out in back with her punching bag. She’d watched in rapt, drooling fascination for ten minutes as his lean, hard muscles flowed beneath his ivory skin with liquid grace, stretching and flexing with the force of his blows and… And mentioning the five-hour session she’d had with her freezer-cooled vibrator back in her room afterwards was completely out of the question.

And that was all aside from the time when he’d sat beside her on the back steps offering her comfort when her mother had gone into the hospital. And when he’d held her crying in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in his soft, rough accent, after Riley had finally taken off. And when he’d cared for her sister and mom, defending them against Glory, nearly getting himself tortured to death to protect Dawn. And when he patrolled at her side every night after Glory’s death, teasing her with soft innuendoes and favoring her with that sometimes shy smile of his, making her laugh when she was the most down.

So, yeah, she couldn’t exactly claim that it had never occurred to her before to rip off all Spike’s clothes and ride him like a prize stallion. But the fact that she might have to confess that to Giles… Okay, why were all Watchers stuffy British men again? Just to embarrass their Slayers as much as was physically possible?

“Anya, is that you?” Giles’ voice sounded from the basement.

She guessed she’d been standing there waiting nervously long enough for him to have noticed her. “It’s me,” she quickly clarified, steeling herself up and walking down the steps.

“Ah, good, Buffy,” Giles said distractedly, recording several notes in his ledger. “I wanted to talk to you about a Tlyri Demon that’s been seen in the area…”

“What’s the…thingy,” she said lamely, “demon look like?”

“Well, it’s approximately five feet tall, covered in pink slime with multiple tentacles, and—” Giles began to catalogue.

“It’s already dead,” Buffy cut him off. “Last night. Spike killed it.” Her cheeks flushed at the mere mention of that name and what had happened after Spike had killed the Bleary-or-whatever Demon.

“Oh,” Giles managed a quick smile, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling, “good. That’s all I had for you today, actually.”

Buffy gulped. The urge to flee from the Magic Box was nearly irresistible, but she held firm. “Uh, actually, I had something to report to you…” she began, looking desperately anywhere but at him.

Giles looked up curiously at her over the wire frames of his spectacles. “Did something happen last night?” he inquired, taking in her edgy demeanor with some concern.

“Uh…you might say that…” She folded her arms over her chest in a defensive posture and leaned back against the stair rail. “You see…” She blanked, took a deep gulp, and tried again. “Well, there was this vamp, and… You know how I usually try to kill them? Well, with this one I…” She mumbled something under her breath.

“Pardon?” Giles asked, confused.

“I, you know, kinda the opposite of killing?” she ventured, embarrassed.

“You saved his life?” Giles guessed.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “The thing Anya talks about all the time.”

“Money?”

“The other thing,” she hissed.

Giles frowned, then his eyes widened. “Dear lord…”

“I didn’t actually,” Buffy quickly defended herself, deciding to leave the Spike-filled (and how very Spike-filled she had been…) part of the evening out of her account for now. “I just, you know… It was like I was possessed or something. Willow and Tara dusted the vamp, though.”

Giles sat there, removed his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on, said “Dear lord” again, and removed his glasses to clean them again.

“It was really creepy, Giles,” she shivered. “He was an ugly vamp, too.” Luckily, she’d gotten to choose the most gorgeous of all options for her final date of the night…

Giles shook off his startled surprise at that and managed to nod. “Yes, I can well imagine,” he agreed before pausing, his brow furrowed. “I had hoped this was just an old wives’ tale,” he finally added with a weary sigh.

“Old wife?” Buffy repeated from a squeak. “’Cause, hey, I’m only twenty, and there’s no way I’m getting married yet…”

He managed to fix her with an irritated look. “It’s just an expression,” he assured her. “A myth, a legend. I had read the stories in the Watcher Diaries, of course, but I had thought this just another needlessly cruel exercise in control, much like the Cruciamentum…”

“Giles, what are you talking about?” Buffy demanded, growing annoyed with his vague comments.

Giles sighed wearily. “The Tempus Gignentis,” he clarified.

Anya’s head was immediately at the top of the stairs. “Did you just say Buffy’s going through the Tempus Gignentis?” she demanded excitedly.

“Tempus Gigantis?” Buffy repeated confusedly. Inwardly, she was blushing at how fitting the term was for Spike and his—

“‘Gignentis’,” Giles corrected, “not ‘Gigantis’. Roughly translated, it means the ‘time of breeding’.”

“It’s not very gigantic,” Anya informed her apologetically. “Unless you choose Spike as your mate… He’s rather large, isn’t he?” She cheered up visibly now that the conversation had focused one of her favorite topics. There just weren’t enough in-depth discussions about penises in this group for her tastes.

Giles blanched at the mental image.

“Breeding?” Buffy exclaimed at Giles’ pronouncement, eyes wide. Then, Anya’s statement registered. “And just how do you know how large Spike is?!” she demanded, green-eyed jealousy seeping into her blood.

“Don’t worry,” Anya assured her. “All my observations of Spike’s penis are based entirely upon the tight jeans he wears. Specifically when he wears them around you. Have the two of you decided yet when you’re going to stop the unresolved sexual tension and give yourselves the orgasms you both so desperately need?” She blinked at Buffy curiously, as if she’d just asked ‘how are you?’ and genuinely cared about the answer.

“U-Uh…” Buffy’s face had flushed a deep red now, and she was desperately looking anywhere but at Giles.

“Yes, thank you for leaping so enthusiastically over the line once more,” Giles rushed to Buffy’s defense, embarrassed himself. And not a little suspicious. He’d seen the way his Slayer and her vampire partner interacted, as well. On many occasions he’d felt quite the voyeur just watching them spar.

“You’re welcome,” Anya agreed brightly, missing the sarcasm completely. “I can provide more helpful tips on vampire penises if you’re—”

“No!” Buffy and Giles both managed to exclaim in perfect unison.

“Or not,” Anya sulked slightly. Why did they have to get all testy all of a sudden? They’d completely killed the conversation, and just when she’d really started to get going, too. It was clear they were both repressed and in desperate need of more sex. Only not with Xander. Xander was hers.

“Moving back on topic,” Giles broke the subsequent silence. He turned back to Buffy who was still looking confusedly back and forth between the two of them. “The Tempus Gignentis is rumored to strike each Slayer upon her twenty-first birthday. See, the earliest Watcher Diaries hint that the Slayer was originally made from a vampire. Thus, when the Slayer reaches adulthood, she naturally seeks out a…m-mate,” he stuttered over the word, mortified at having to explain this, “that is compatible.”

Anya rolled her eyes at Giles’ description. “You get really horny for vamps, the pheromones you emit makes them horny for you, you have sex, your body heats up their seed, and presto! Demon-spawn infant,” she explained in terms any reasonable person would’ve used in the first place.

Buffy nodded numbly. “You’re saying I’m turning into a vamp-ho?” she whimpered finally.

“You are not turning into a ‘vamp-ho’,” Giles assured her quickly. “It’s a temporary condition that should strike every two to five years, if the legends are true.”

“Demon-spawn?” Buffy was still stunned. Poor Buffy. This really all was a bit much for her. Unconsciously, her hand moved to cover her flat belly, the shocking realization that she might’ve just gotten knocked up by Spike overwhelming her.

Giles let out a weary sigh and sat down heavily. “There’s no way of actually knowing if that’s the case,” he insisted. “It was the traditional job of all Watchers to…er, dispose of Slayers that had defiled themselves with demon mates as well as their progeny…”

Buffy’s eyes widened, and the hand on her stomach moved in a protective gesture.

“Oh, don’t be absurd,” Giles assured her, noticing the motion. “I have no inclination to undertake the Council’s more barbaric practices. On the off chance that you should actually produce an offspring, I could never kill it.”

“‘Off chance’?” Anya repeated incredulously. “Once the mating instinct overtakes her, she’ll keep seeking a vampire to have orgasms with until she finds one. She’ll then lure her vampire mate into a docile and erect state with the pheromones she emits and—”

“Enough!” Buffy and Giles were shouting out in surround sound once more.

“Buffy quite effectively put aside the mating drive last night,” Giles informed Anya primly, “which means she obviously need not give in to it.”

Buffy gulped. “Um…let’s just pretend there’s one little slip-up,” she began anxiously. “Does that mean…?”

“You need four slip-ups, sweetie,” Anya corrected with a patronizing pat to Buffy’s hand.

“Four?” Buffy really shouldn’t have to fight to stop herself from openly salivating at the thought.

“For proper mystical fertilization,” Anya said back, sounding as though she wanted to attach ‘duh’ to the end of it, like it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

Brief relief flooded her that, no, she wasn’t pregnant yet…well, not entirely, at least. And why did Slayers have to be some sort of fucked up beings where it technically was possible to be only ‘sort of pregnant’, anyway? Wasn’t her life already weird enough as it was?

“It is entirely a moot point, though,” Giles insisted. “Given her success at avoiding any…” his flushed, “contact last night—”

Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably, thumb still caressing her belly. “Uh…Giles?” she began nervously, cutting him off. “There’s something else that happened last night that I need to tell you about…”
 

Buffy landed on the tile floor with a click of her high-heeled boots. Her predators’ instincts kept her in a crouched position for a few seconds, checking for threats in a state of catlike readiness. A shifting swirl of footsteps beyond the glass water-filled tank to her left alerted her to the presence of another hunter in Sunnydale Aquarium, but when she turned to look, all she could see were half a dozen tropical fish staring at her curiously.

“Thought you were the Ichthius Demon for a second there,” Spike’s soft voice filled the eerie silence of the aquarium at midnight. Sheepishly, he stepped forward from the shadows, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Obviously, he was just as unsure about the events of the night before as she was. And their confused discussion after the main event to go home and get cleaned up hadn’t eased any of his worries. “’lo, Buffy,” he said in an almost shy voice, the blue light of the underground world making the cerulean in his eyes unnaturally vivid.

Buffy gulped. He was even more handsome than she’d remembered. Bad mind, she scolded the dirty thoughts flitting through her head. You’re here to explain why you’re having Spike’s baby, not to have kinky sex with him! Wait, something about that didn’t seem quite right… “Um, hi.” Her voice squeaked on the final syllable, and she blushed slightly at how nervous she was.

“You see the Watcher about…?” Impossibly, his cheeks flushed. “Y’know…”

She gulped. “Y-Yeah,” she agreed, “have you ever heard of…?” She trailed off as he leaned back against one of the round glass windows that provided a porthole view into the coral reef. The underwater window was just over eight feet wide, providing a striking background that clearly highlighted his lean form. Soft, blue waves in the water illuminated the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the wild platinum spikes of his hair, surrounding him with an ethereal beauty that left her speechless. Suddenly, she felt her belly growing uncomfortably warm and…

“Buffy?” Spike asked anxiously, noticing the abrupt change in her. “What’s—?”

A green light flashed in her eyes, and she took a seductive step towards him, a tiger stalking its prey.

Spike’s nostrils flared in response, and he caught the spicy scent of Slayer arousal. Instantly, he felt an overwhelming desire surge through his body. His cock sprang to life, grating painfully against the cold metal zipper of his jeans, just begging her to invite it to come out and play.

“Spike…” she said in a heady whisper, sauntering up to him and resting one tiny but powerful hand on the bulge where his jeans were about to burst.

“Buffy…” he agreed with an excited growl, eyes rolling back in his head as she gave his hardness a playful squeeze.

She slipped around behind him, settling herself in the curve of the circular window, head lolling back wantonly. “Touch me,” she pleaded.

He was upon her in an instant, sneaking his way cleverly between her thighs, hands bunched in the fabric of her shirt on each side of her chest until they ripped apart the fabric with one violent pull. The tattered remains of the garment fell aside, bearing her bare breasts as reward for his hungry mouth. He’d seen the pinpoint nipples through the cloth of her shirt, but now that her soft, golden flesh was actually before him, tinted a deeper brown by the soft blue waves that illuminated them, he couldn’t hold back a groan.

Buffy cried out in delight as his icy mouth descended upon one milky mound. Her fingers clutched his hair desperately, holding him to her, reveling in the cool he brought to her feverish flesh.

His own hand found her other breast, flicking the puckered bud there in a rapid staccato, moving each sensitive nerve center in perfect counterpoint. With his free left hand, he moved down between her legs. He smiled against her when he found yet another of those girly little skirts he loved so much. Another foolishly optimistic thong believed it could keep him out. This time, despite the blinding passion that blocked out his conscious mind, he managed to remember to store the scrap of crimson fabric in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Oh,” Buffy gasped out in pleasure, feeling the fires within her stoke to an aching burn, “inside me. Now. Please, Spike…”

He grunted his approval into her chest, dropping his zipper in one swift tug, and forcing his way home on the next beat. Soft, liquid suction gripped him, trapping his vital chill deep within her. “Yesss…” he hissed hoarsely, collapsing against her slick, sweaty flesh as the pleasure of being one with her once more overcame him.

Buffy’s hands took the opportunity to roam over his back. She yanked his button-up open, sending several of the small white buttons zinging about the aquarium. They clattered across the hard tile floor, providing the only audio to the mating of the two powerful predators beside the gentle lap of the water and the slap of wet flesh moving together as Spike slowly thrust in and out of her.

Temporary mission accomplished, Buffy pulled his shirt down and off his arms, displaying his marbled chest for her eager perusal. Tender fingers flicked across the flat male nipples she found, and she marveled at the play of the silvery-blue waves of light as they reflected off his pale body, making him seem almost like some sensuous sea creature.

Apparently, Spike had the same thought looking down on her body. “My beautiful siren,” he whispered raggedly, beginning to move in and out of her in earnest.

Buffy moaned and sobbed in pleasure, feeling his icy stabs within her body as heavenly relief from the inferno within. Her eyes drifted down to the meeting of their hips, and she watched in amazement as the long wet length of him pulled out of her until only the bulbous head remained inside her, then vanished into her body once more. That she could take him in, fit him so snuggly inside her… Her body felt ablaze all over again.

“Come for me,” she whimpered against his lips, tasting the full richness of his bottom lip for the first time. Her tongue flicked out to wet it. “I need to feel you come inside me…”

His mouth captured hers in a hungry kiss at that, and his body began to move in a frantic, erratic rhythm. His tongue plunged deep within her mouth, mimicking the motions of his hips, and he realized without a doubt that he had finally tasted the sweetness of heaven.

His balls clenched, pushing him deeper and harder against the seat of pleasure within her, and his cries of ecstasy were drowned out by the union of their lips.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and held him tight as he spilled into her womb. His seed squirted out in short bursts this time, dragging his pleasure out over minutes. Each spurt cooled the irrational fire within her further, bringing another gasp of release, followed by brief languid bliss. For one instant Spike would have sworn her entire body started glowing a soft green, but perhaps it was just an effect of the aquarium light, and he certainly wasn’t in any state to analyze the phenomenon as waves of pleasure raked through his body. By the time he was finally done, she was groggy, barely conscious at the repeated orgasms that had racked her body.

“God, I love you…” he whimpered against her. Then, he collapsed on top of her, equally spent, and drifting off into unconsciousness one hand came to rest on the flat of her belly, as if some instinctual knowledge deep inside him felt instinctively what they’d begun to create together.

One final settling of naked, sweat-sheened limbs, and the Slayer and her Vampire felt into a deep dreamless sleep, each tangled intimately with the other’s body…