The demon stormed angrily into the Sunnydale High School library, dragging a screeching, snarling smaller demon behind her. Alarmed, Rupert Giles leapt to his feet, desperately searching for a weapon.

"Be at ease, Librarian!" commanded the demon. Giles found himself unable to resist the command and sank into his chair. He took the opportunity to examine his uninvited visitor, trying to identify her in an effort to discover her weakness.

The demon had taken on the appearance of a human female, middling tall, with short flaming red hair and blue-grey eyes She had the smaller demon, in the guise of a young boy, firmly by the ear. She deposited him, none too gently, in another of the library chairs. In a voice that sounded like broken glass and grinding gears, she snarled at the boy-demon, "Cease that caterwauling immediately. This contretemps rests squarely upon your own wretched shoulders. Endure it with fortitude."

Clearly, English was not a comfortable language for her, Giles thought. Her use of the language, while grammatical, was stilted and formal. Giles could not place her in any of the numerous categories of demonology with which he was familiar. Tentatively, thinking that she might be too distracted by the youngster to notice, Giles began to rise to his feet. Without noticeable haste, the demon turned her eyes to Giles. He subsided into the chair again instantly, cowed despite himself.

With the younger demon's screeches now diminished into whines, the female demon turned her full attention to the Watcher. Giles felt his consciousness laid naked before the demon's glare. His past, his thoughts, the very intentions of his heart spread without cover before her. When at last she spoke to him, her voice was soft and sultry, with no trace of the broken glass sound it had held earlier.

"Yes, indeed, Librarian. You shall perform admirably, I am certain."

"What, um, task shall I be, er, performing?" Giles' voice, much to his dismay, was quavering.

The demon smiled, a smile that involved only her lips. Her eyes remained cold as winter, still as night, unwavering and implacable. "All will be revealed at the appropriate juncture." With a graceful movement, the demon seated herself next to Giles. "Render unto me information regarding the present location of the red-haired witch girl."

Giles was taken aback. Of all the demands his feverish imagination could conjure, this was surely the last. "W-Willow? I don't know, exactly, where she is." The demon shook her head, almost reluctantly, and the Watcher felt his throat begin to constrict. Without a spell, incantation or magickal implement of any sort, the demon was suffocating the Watcher where he sat. She looked intently into his eyes and suddenly he could breathe again. "I trust you will refrain from further prevarication?"

"I-I wasn't lying. I said I didn't know exactly where she is. She is out patrolling with Bu-" Giles broke off, unsure of how much he should say, yet not wanting to annoy the demon further. If he never again felt her power, it would be twenty minutes too soon.

"Indeed, I have some knowledge of this Slayer of yours, this Buffy." The demon pursed her lips and considered her next move. "My name is" and here she uttered a sound like rusty gate hinges and squealing brakes with overtones of the sound of a record player needle scratching across a record. "You may address me as Marian. That will be more convenient for your tongue. This impudent rapscallion," indicating the sullen young demon, "is my nephew. I shall forbear divulging his correct appellation as our language is dissonant to human ears. You may refer to him as Ogbert."

The demon in question lifted his lip in a snarl which was quickly erased as Marian flashed her eyes at him in annoyance. Ogbert hunched his shoulders, a gesture that caused him to look remarkably like a caricature of a vulture.

Marian closed her eyes and fetched an enormous sigh. "I shall elucidate the predicament in which we find ourselves owing to the machinations of young Ogbert here. The witch girl was endeavouring to perform a minor act of magick, a spell to grant a wish for the Slayer, Buffy. Ogbert, with his," Marian paused and invested the next three words with such undiluted malevolence that Giles shuddered involuntarily, "youthful high spirits interfered with this trifling magick and created a chimera, combining demonic magick with human magick. The dire nature of the consequences of this meddling cannot be excessively stated. It is imperative that the chimera be captured and destroyed."

"What, exactly, does the, um, chimera do, if I might be so bold?"

Marian's face grew dark. Her blue-grey eyes gleamed with a lurid glow. "It causes those over whom it achieves influence to indulge in their most deeply held fantasies." Another huge sigh. "Sexual fantasies. Fantasies which involve the most repugnant of all human emotions: Love." She shuddered delicately. "In addition, if these fantasies remain unfulfilled, the participants will perish. As the original wish-magick was performed for the benefit of the Slayer, she will indubitably be the primary target of the chimera.

"Under normal circumstances, of course, this would be utterly immaterial, but the Head of our Department finds your Buffy . . . amusing. I myself fail to discern the attraction. But one must not" Marian looked meaningfully at Giles, "I repeat *must not* cause any impediment to the enjoyment of the Head of the Department. The expression 'heads will roll' is not by any means metaphorical in our Department. Should this Buffy come to harm in the course of fulfilling her fantasy, I shudder to ponder the scope of the Head's fury." At which, she did, in fact, shudder.

"I see. Then I'd best contact Willow."

~*~*~*~*~

An hour later, an exhausted Willow slumped in a library chair, her head pillowed on her folded arms resting on the table. "I think that'll do it, Giles. The locator spell should give us the chimera's whereabouts. But I gotta rest . . ." her voice trailed off into a gentle snore.

Giles left Willow sleeping and entered his office, where Marian and Ogbert waited. "The locator spell has been performed. We should be able to proceed shortly." Marian's lips stretched in what was apparently intended to be a smile. The sight nearly crumpled Giles' knees under him, fear stirring inside him like a living thing.

"Excellent, Librarian. I was correct in my assumption that your performance would be admirable." Ogbert sat, shoulders hunched, glowering at his aunt and the Watcher.

Meanwhile, a mysteriously glowing blue ball was being seen on the streets of Sunnydale, rolling purposefully along toward its goal. Most people would deny ever having seen it, though. Denial was sometimes the only way to survive on the Hellmouth.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy and Spike were sparring near one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries, neither one really trying to destroy the other, both determined to give as good as they got. Kicks and punches were thrown and blocked. Taunts and barbs were uttered and returned. As the glowing ball approached them, neither noticed, so caught up were they in their struggle. The nearer the ball got, the slower their attacks, both physical and verbal, became. Both the Vampire and the Vampire Slayer seemed to be drifting in a mental and physical fog.

Buffy launched a half-hearted kick at Spike's mid-section. Almost languidly, he caught her ankle and held it, pulling the Slayer toward him. She was forced to hop on one foot to avoid a fall. The insult she was forming died on her lips as Spike pulled her against his body. Of its own volition, her leg wrapped tightly around the hips of her adversary. Spike ran his hand along the Slayer's captured leg to her waist and pressed firmly against the small of her back, holding her close to him. Buffy's hands slipped up Spike's stomach and came to rest on his chest over his heart.

Buffy's eyes were riveted to Spike's face. Her eyes grew dark as the pupils dilated. Her heart was racing, from rising passion and not from the exertion of the fight. The tip of Buffy's tongue crept out to moisten lips that were suddenly dry and tingling.

"I, uh, don't feel like fighting anymore." Buffy's voice was husky. "Do you?"

"No, pet. Fighting is not what I wanna do with you. Not at all." His hand strangely gentle, Spike traced Buffy's right eyebrow with his left thumb. The warmth seemed to race from that slight contact straight to his groin. He cradled her head in his hands and bent his head toward hers. The kiss that followed began as a gentle exploration and built to a fierce duel. Suddenly, Buffy broke away from Spike.

"No! This is so bad. A bad, wrong thing. Bad." Buffy turned away from Spike, her head and her heart battling for supremacy over her emotions.

"Wait!" Spike's hand darted out and caught Buffy by the arm. His voice softened. "Please wait . . . " Almost reluctantly, Buffy turned again to face her nemesis; the one she could never banish from her dreams; the one about whom her fantasies revolved.

~*~*~*~*~

"Slayer. . . Buffy," Spike murmured, drawing her to him again. Buffy felt helpless, unable to muster the strength to resist. She didn't want to resist. She had wondered how it would feel to touch Spike, to kiss him, to hold him. He had invaded her dreams at night and her reveries in the daytime. She allowed him to pull her into his arms, the stake she had been holding dropping from nerveless fingers to the ground.

"I've wanted to do this ever since I came back," Spike whispered, his voice husky, his eyes dark with an indefinable emotion. "I can't quit dreaming about you, Slayer." He took Buffy's hand in his and placed it above his unbeating heart. Slowly, almost as if in a daze, Buffy ran her hand up Spike's chest, and up his throat. Then she traced the line of his jaw with the tips of her fingers, moving across his chin and up to his mouth. His lips opened slightly as she touched them. Spike panted, with rapidly increasing desire and not any need to breathe. He swallowed convulsively.

"I've wanted to do this ever since you came back, too." Buffy found it difficult to speak. She stood on her toes to meet his kiss. Spike took his time, barely brushing her lips with his open mouth. The kiss deepened as their tongues began to slip and curl around each other, sending jolts of sensation through both of them. Spike ran his hands slowly down Buffy's back, fingers spread wide to savor the sensation fully.

Buffy pushed the ever-present duster from Spike's shoulders. Never breaking the kiss, he shook the duster off, one arm at a time, the other arm continuing to hold the Slayer. Spike dropped the duster to the ground and slowly lowered himself and Buffy onto it. He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at the Slayer, desire evident in his eyes and in his increasingly uncomfortably tight jeans. "Cor, you're lovely. Y'know that?"

Neither of the two noticed that they had become enveloped by the glowing blue ball. It began to pulse in time with Buffy's breathing. . .

Swiftly divesting themselves of their clothing, Buffy and Spike explored each other with fingers, lips, tongues. With the same hands he had used countless times to try to hurt her, Spike began to worship the Slayer. Spike pushed Buffy's hair back from her forehead and kissed her temple, her eyes, her jaw. He felt her tense as he began to nibble down her neck. Almost inaudibly, he murmured, "Don't worry, luv. I'm not feelin' bitey." As he worked his way down to her collarbone, Spike felt Buffy's back arch with pleasure and he smiled against her skin. He began to pay attention to her breasts, sucking one nipple and teasing the other lightly with his fingers.

Buffy's right hand tangled itself in Spike's short peroxided hair and held his head close to her. As Spike left her breasts, she whined softly in protest, a whine which was replaced by a moan of purest animal pleasure as Spike dipped his head between her thighs. In doing so, he had twisted and positioned himself so that Buffy could easily reach his erect penis. She slipped her hand up the back of his thighs and cupped his balls, rubbing them against each other inside his scrotum. With a growl, Spike grasped Buffy's hips and rolled her on top of him, his mouth still active against her. She found herself facing his very erect penis and she took it into her mouth.

Spike moaned with the sensation and Buffy could feel that moan throughout her entire body. The position in which she found herself did not allow much room for finesse, so she just concentrated on swirling her tongue around the engorged tip of Spike's cock, flicking her tongue through the slit at the end. Then the sensations stirred by Spike's tongue began to overcome her. She flung back her head, baring her teeth to the night and, holding herself upright, ground herself against Spike's face as the first wave of orgasmic pleasure hit.

Buffy collapsed, her cheek resting on Spike's rather sharp hipbone. Panting, she slid off him and began kissing her way up his body toward his face. When the two were again face to face, Buffy braced her hands against Spike's chest and grinned down at him. "Well, well. You do have hidden talents, don't ya?"

Spike raised his scarred left eyebrow and grinned back. "You have no idea, pet, of just what talents I've got . . ." Buffy cut off whatever else Spike had in mind to say by taking his mouth in a kiss. Lifting her hips, she impaled herself on him. Spike arched his neck and growled deep in his throat, feeling her warmth along the entire length of him. He thrust his pelvis upwards and Buffy gasped. Quickly Spike rolled over so that Buffy was beneath him.

"I wanna watch ya when ya come this time," Spike whispered, thrusting inside her. He slipped a long fingered hand between their bodies and found her clitoris. He caught it between two fingers and squeezed. Buffy flung her head back, arching her back and wailing. The sight and sound of her orgasm provided the last bit of stimulation needed for Spike to come. He sank down on top of her, panting from emotion and exertion.

He grinned at her. She was gorgeous. Sweaty, breathless, hair tangled, face flushed. And utterly alive. In the back of his mind, the thought stirred that he might like to keep her that way.

"Now that was fun. Ya can't tell me that wasn't fun," Spike said, flicking Buffy's earlobe with his tongue.

"Oh, yeah. Fun. Definitely fun." Never once having been noticed by Spike and Buffy, the glowing blue ball expanded and dissipated into the night air.

In the distance, came the sounds of Giles, Willow, Marian and Ogbert as they climbed out of Giles' ancient and dilapidated vehicle. The words, "Giles, the locator said they were here, but I don't see 'em anywhere" drifted to Buffy's ear.

"Uh oh." The Slayer began dressing, hidden from view behind a tombstone. Spike kissed her quickly and dashed away, naked, having taken only enough time to grab his clothes off the ground. "Over here, guys!" Buffy called, as she adjusted the waist of her pants.

"You're all right?" Giles' expression was one of deep concern.

"Never been better. Yep, never better. Just peachy." Then, noticing Marion and Ogbert, Buffy added, "And, um, who are they?"

""Never mind." Giles looked around. "You didn't happen to notice anything, er, unusual happening?"

"Nope. Nope. Nothing unusual. Everything totally usual here."

Giles turned to Marian. "Nothing untoward seems to have occurred, Marian. Perhaps the chimera was dispelled in some other manner."

With an enigmatic expression, Marian answered, "Verily, Librarian. The chimera has undoubtedly been dispersed. Shall we take our departure at this time, Ogbert?"

As the five began to walk back toward Giles' car, thunder began to rumble overhead. Oddly, it was a cloudless night. Giles glanced curiously upward as Marian and Ogbert flung themselves face down to the ground.

"Indeed, Most Dreadful One!" Marian whimpered. "O Great and Diabolical Lord, I have failed in my mission. I deserve the direst of punish--" A sudden bolt of lightning struck a tree nearby, exploding it and filling the air with a hellish scent of brimstone. Marian screeched and covered her head. As the thunder rolled, Marian lifted her head, an unreadable expression on her face. "Indeed, Sir, you may rely on me," she spoke one final time to the night sky.

Marian arose, dusting off her clothing. "Come, Ogbert. Accompany me. We have an additional assignment." Turning to Giles, she said, "I shall bid you farewell, Librarian. I trust I shall not encounter you again." The demon and her nephew left, going in the same direction Spike had taken.

As Giles walked ahead of them toward his car, Willow whispered to Buffy, "Buffy, your shirt is buttoned crooked."

"Oops."

~*~*~*~*~

Epilogue

Spike had dressed and headed toward home, grinning to himself, a bounce again in his step, an energy that had been missing since Drusilla had issued that final ultimatum and thrown him out. A cream coloured 1964 Thunderbird pulled up next to him. The door opened. "Get in." Spike found himself unable to resist that voice. He climbed into the back seat of the perfectly restored vehicle.

Waiting for him there was the red-haired demon, Marian. Ogbert sat in the front seat. There seemed to be no driver. Marian smiled that dreadful smile at Spike. "My dear young fellow," she began. "I have a proposition for you, one which is most assuredly in your best interests to accept. The Head of my Department, whose name I dare not speak aloud, was most highly entertained by the, shall we say, illicit activities in which you and the Slayer indulged tonight. It is His desire that you continue to engage in such activities with the Slayer."

"Now, just a bleedin' urp!" Spike felt his unlife slipping away in the implacable basilisk glare of Marian's eyes. His head felt as if it were going to explode.

"Gentlemen do not interrupt. Should you do so again, I have permission to visit such torments upon you as you have never experienced. Do you understand?" Unable to speak, Spike could only nod his head. The dreadful pressure eased.

"Additionally, the Head wishes you to ensure the physical safety of the Slayer."

An utterly incredulous expression on his face, Spike exploded, "What?!" Again the pressure began to build in his head.

Marian placed a hand on Spike's knee. "Ogbert, apparently young William finds my explication of the terms of this agreement abstruse and difficult to understand. Please elucidate for him." Spike watched in horror, unable to move as her hand slipped up to grasp his crotch and began to fondle it.

Ogbert turned toward Spike. "Look, kid. This is the way it is. You boff Buffy regular-like. You watch her back so she don't get killed. The Boss is happy. You get to boff that little delight so you're happy. And Aunt Marian gets reacquainted with a vibrator. Or you don't do what the Boss wants. And you get real close and personal with Maid Marian there."

Spike looked at Marian. Marian simpered at Spike. "It's a deal, mate," said Spike to Ogbert hastily. Marian's face fell as Spike scrambled out of the car. Then, gathering her dignity about her like a cloak, Marian said, "Do not fail, William. The Head of the Department does not regard with favour any failure to perform." The Thunderbird's door closed and, still driverless, it glided away, leaving Spike staring after it.

"Does that mean I've gotta help Buffy?" Spike asked aloud. A distant rumble of thunder was his only answer.

******THE END******