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A month passed...

Buffy had gone and confessed her sins at the first opportunity. She was beside herself with guilt and was anxious to do penance. She couldn't stop thinking about Spike and how he'd made her feel. To her further shame, she had touched herself quite a few times at night when she thought about him -- trying to duplicate the orgasms he'd given her. She did cum, but it wasn't nearly as intense as when he'd given them to her.

Willow was feeling horrible about letting what happened happen. Buffy, however, assured her that she didn't blame her at all, it was Buffy's own job to take care of herself. She'd avoided anyplace she thought that she thought Spike might go; she couldn't possibly look him in the eye with her potently lustful feelings towards him.

Notwithstanding this, after a month, Buffy felt strong enough to do the right thing and apologize to him for her totally inappropriate behavior. She had definitely been the aggressor that night; men found it very hard to refuse when a woman jumped them. She'd been more animal than woman.

Buffy made her way through the crowd at The Bronze to Willow's table.

"Buffy!" Willow said happily. "What are you doing here? You want to sit down?"

Buffy smiled and sat in the proffered chair. "Hi, Willow. I heard the Dingoes were playing...I wanted to speak to Spike about...what happened last month. To apologize."

"Apologize? To him?" Willow said in disbelief. "Buffy, you have nothing to be sorry for. He... It's-- It's like a fantasy come true for a guy to have a pretty woman come onto him." Willow winced, regretting her choice of words but continued, "You don't have to apologize."

"No," Buffy said resolutely. "I need to. To explain my behavior...as best I can anyway."

Buffy's eyes went to the stage where the band was just winding down their set. She sighed inwardly. He looked so gorgeous up there, all punked out and grinning gleefully, so alive and full of passion. Buffy released a shuddery breath.

"Thank you! You guys are a terrific audience!" Spike said to the room. "We're outta here!"

With that, the crowd applauded and the band went backstage.

"They'll be coming over..." Willow said. "Are you sure you're up to talking to him?"

Buffy hadn't told Willow how she still lusted after Spike, but she had told her how embarrassed and ashamed she felt about it. She couldn't stop thinking about when he'd cum. The way he looked, the way his cock felt pulsing in her hand, the way his cum had erupted out of him, the way his cum had tasted...

Buffy nodded. "Yes...it's the right thing to do."

A deep-dark part of Buffy's psyche helped push her to do this. It didn't care about apologizing at all, it only wanted to see him again; to gaze into those clear blue eyes.

After ten minutes the band came to the table.

"Great set guys!" Willow chirped, giving Oz a kiss. "Look who's here."

The guys were surprised to see Buffy but smiled and said hello. Spike nodded and mumbled, finding an interesting spot on the floor to look at.

He gulped. Seeing her again, even after a month to cool down, was both exciting and guilt inducing. Spike had meant to get her number to apologize for what he'd done to her, but he never quite got the courage to do it.

Spike had a lot of very hot and wet dreams about the blonde nun. One he'd had just last night was especially erotic. It ran through his mind before he could stop it:


Spike's dream, #20

Spike was laying naked in bed (his preferred method of sleeping), thinking about Buffy and how good it felt to have her hand around his dick -- not to mention how hot and wet her pussy felt under his hand. A massive hard-on lay against his belly. Just when he was about to attend to himself, he heard the floorboards creak near the door to his bedroom.

He looked over quickly and gasped. It was Buffy. She was dressed like a nun this time, in full black and white habit.

Buffy walked slowly over to him, the only light in the room was provided by the full moon coming through the window. She smiled down at him, looking beautiful and ethereal -- she looked holy.

"Hello, Spike," Buffy said in a lilting voice.

"B-Buffy? What are you doing here?"

"I was remembering what happened at the party...what happened between us."

"I'm sorry! I didn't know! I never would have --"

Buffy silenced him by bending down and putting two fingers against his lips.

"I want you," Buffy said huskily.

Spike's eyes widened. "No, it's--it's not --"

Buffy silenced him again, this time by running her hand down his body to his cock. His muscles flexed involuntarily under her fingertips. She wrapped her fingers around it and stroked it.

Spike sighed and tilted his head back. "But -- you're -- a nun! You took vows!" he protested feebly.

"Shhh," Buffy climbed on top of him. "I don't care about that anymore. I need you. I need your cock."

Spike groaned with desire.

Buffy let go of his dick and pulled her habit off, leaving her completely naked except for the veil part of the habit. That she left on. (Some weird subconscious kink of his, he guessed when he later analyzed the dream.)

"I'm a virgin, Spike. I want you to be the first to fuck me." She rose up over his erect cock and slowly sank down on it.

"Ohhh--Ohh Buffy! Ahhh!" Spike moaned. "Ohh yeah!"

Spike had never been with a virgin before (he'd only been with one woman his whole life, Drusilla, and she was hardly a virgin by the time he'd found her). His mind provided all the sensations of fucking a virgin from accounts he'd read and heard about. She was tight as hell (he'd felt how tight she was when he stuck his finger inside of her).

Buffy sat atop him motionless for a few moments as she stretched out to accommodate his large cock, she was moaning and palming her tits. Spike brushed her hands away and fondled her breasts, rolling her nipples and kneading her soft flesh. It didn't take long for her to begin fucking herself on him.

Spike hands slid down to her waist, he held onto her hips and rocked into her. Buffy was groaning, her face a mask of pure pleasure.

"Yes, Spike! Yes! FUCK ME! FUCK MY CUNT!"

Spike growled and flipped her over onto her back. He smashed their lips together and thrust slowly for a few moments, and then he began fucking her hard and fast. He supported himself on his forearms and watched her beautiful face as he fucked her. The moonlight highlighted her form as she lay under him. She had a look of ecstasy on her face, her lovely mouth hung open, little mewling, gasping sounds flowed from her. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever experienced, it fanned the flames of his ardor higher and higher.

"Buffy! Aaaahhh! So lovely! So bloody beautiful!" Spike moaned, ramming into her tight box.

Buffy clawed at his back, her legs wrapping around him. She gasped and cried out. "OH! OHHHH! HARDER! FUCK ME HARDER!"

Spike happily obliged, pumping his hips wildly and slamming into her oh-so-formerly virgin cunt. He grunted and breathed heavily. Buffy's body started shaking, her pussy clamped down on his cock.

"AHHHH! OHHHH! YES, SPIKE!" Buffy screeched.

Spike thrust powerfully three more times before he exploded inside of her.

"BUFFY!" he half sobbed, still plunging into her quivering hole.

He stiffened and shot load after load into her hot quim. Buffy moaned and whimpered, digging her nails into his flesh. Deep, half-moon shaped gouges formed on his back from her passionate clawing…


Back in the present...

Needless to say, Spike had woken up in a pool of his own fluids this morning.

His face was burning with embarrassment, his dark and vivid fantasy running uncontrollably through his mind. He shook himself to bring him mind back to the present. He glanced at Buffy, she was looking back at him. Spike's eyes darted away, his heart thudded.

"Spike? Can I talk to you in private?" Buffy asked timidly.

He swallowed noisily but nodded.

Be cool! Be cool! he commanded himself.

They moved to a more quiet, secluded spot near the stairs to the upper level.

"What, uh, would you like to talk about... Sister, uh, Sister Buffy?" Spike asked awkwardly. "Is that...what you're called?"

Buffy smiled. "You can just call me plain old Buffy. That'd be fine... About what happened at the party... I...want to say I'm sorry for acting the way I did."

Spike was taken aback that she felt the need to say she was sorry.

"You don't have to apologize to me... I'm the one who did wrong. "I, um, wanted to apologize to you. I feel...so bad about what I did to you..."

"It was completely my fault," Buffy said, putting a hand on his arm. She had to quash the shudder she felt at his hard bicep flexing under her palm. "I acted inappropriately. Don't blame yourself."

Spike suppressed the excitement that raced through him at her touch. His eyes became rounder when his cock twitched. He had to get out of here! And quick. In the skintight blue jeans he was wearing, it would be obvious that he had an erection.

"I...uh, have to go check on...some equipment in the van! Nice talking to you!" Spike beat a hasty retreat.

Buffy watched him walking quickly away and sighed. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. Her nether regions ached terribly, almost like menstrual cramps but painful in a different fashion. Buffy had half-convinced herself that she'd done what she'd done at the party because of the alcohol... But that was a lie. True, the alcohol had helped, but she had really been drunk on sensation and emotion. Something about this particular man drove her wild, insane with passion.

One of her many dreams (one of her particular favorites) about him played out behind her eyes:


Buffy's Dream #10

Buffy was naked and back in the bedroom, lying on top of the coats on the bed. Spike was there with her, standing by the bed, his hard cock jutting out in front of his body. He looked like a Greek God, so strong, beautiful...perfect.

"Fancy it, pet?" He smirked, stroking his manhood slowly.

"Yes! Oh, YES!" Buffy exclaimed. "I want to squeeze your lemon," Buffy smiled coyly, referring to the song he'd sung that night, "till the juice runs down your leg..."

Spike's smirk broadened. "Have at it."

She scooted down the bed towards him and took his cock in her hands, pumping it up and down. He moaned, his hands going into her hair and petting her face.

Buffy slid her mouth over the prickhead, slavering all over it. He tasted so good -- she wanted to make his delicious cum shoot into her mouth. Buffy moaned and sucked his dick; the fingers of her right hand went to her pussy. Spike pushed her shoulders back until his cock popped out of her mouth.

She looked up at him in a worshipful way.

"You need something too, petal." (Buffy had loved it when he called her that -- it made her all gushy.)

Spike pushed her down onto her back and straddled her thighs. His cock throbbed against her stomach. He sat there, straddling her and smiling down.

Buffy wanted to fuck -- but she didn't know what it felt like. Her subconscious couldn't supply the feeling. Instead her mind opted for going with what it knew felt so good.

Spike put his hand over her mound, rubbing and sliding his fingers into her wet folds.

"Ahhh--Ohhh! Ahhh! Spike!" Buffy cried, shaking from the pleasure he gave her.

She whimpered and took his cock in her hands again, pumping the shaft. Spike moaned and started thrusting his hips lightly. He stuck a finger inside of her and fucked her slowly and shallowly with it while he rubbed her clit like he had before, his thumb ring providing extra stimulation.

Buffy humped and moaned continuously while jacking his cock. Their movements sped up and became more frenzied over the next few minutes, building up to the big finish.

At the same time, they cried out in ecstasy.

"SPIKE! OHH--OHHH--YESSSS!"

"Unnnhhhaa! Ohh Buffy!"

Buffy shuddered and panted as she came onto his hand. Spike's cock started spurting onto her chest and face, soaking her with it. She gasped and opened her mouth, holding his pulsing penis so that it was aimed at her face. Several wads shot out, arced into the air and into her mouth. She smacked her lips and swallowed, immediately opening her mouth for more. Stream after stream shot out landing on her chest, in her mouth and on her face, a glob hit her just above her right eye. Buffy immediately scooped it up with her fingers and sucked it into her mouth.

After a few more spurts, Spike pulled away and bent down over her. He smeared the gooey white stuff all over her chest, making her glisten and shine with it. He began licking his own cum off her chest with broad
strokes of his tongue and sucking it off her nipples. His hand went back to her pussy, exploring her. She panted and watched him cleaning her chest with his tongue and playing with her pussy. It was the hottest thing she could imagine seeing -- ever. She wanted him to cum all over her body, she wanted to bathe in it, drink it down and have him lick it off every inch of her. Spike looked up at her as he bathed her, an opened-mouth smile on his face. Buffy's head jerked backwards, her back arching off the bed.

"OOOHHH! OHHHH! SPIKE!" Buffy screamed as another orgasm hit her.

Buffy had woken up in the morning with her fingers buried in her pussy, her underwear drenched with her juice...


Back in the present...

Someone bumped into Buffy, jarring her from her favorite dream. Her face was bright red again, her underwear was soaked through, and her pulse was pounding away. She'd developed what she didn't know was called a 'cum fetish'. Not any random guy's cum though -- just Spike's.

She hurried back to the table and quickly said her goodbyes to Willow and the band, saying that she had a late shift at the place she volunteered.

It was straight to Confession for her tonight before anything else.


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


After a few minutes, Spike felt courageous enough to go back to the table. He felt both disappointment and relief that his dream girl had left.

The band and Willow sat around making small talk for a while.

"Hello, boys. Hello, my Spike."

Spike looked up into the smiling face of Drusilla, his ex. Out of habit, a smile began to form on his face. Then he remembered their last breakup, in a series of breakups. It hadn't been pretty. His smile disappeared.

The others at the table glared at Dru, their gazes dripping venom.

Dru was into the music and drug scenes. She and Spike had lived a fast-paced lifestyle for some time, during which she introduced him to a number of drugs -- including heroin. He had tried it at first just to appease her, but quickly became hooked on it. His personality began changing; he was more irritable and quick to anger. The band had almost broken up because of it. Luckily, Dru had broken up with him for some guy that she worked with at Chaos Demon Records.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, that left Spike without a connection and without the money to afford any more H. Xander, Oz, and Angel had stayed with him in his apartment when he went through the violent withdrawals. They took care of him for a week.

Spike hadn't seen Dru since then, four months ago. He was clean, only imbibing beer or whiskey and smoking cigarettes. After the hell he'd gone through going through withdrawal, he never wanted to see another illegal drug again. The craving was still there sometimes, but he could handle it.

"Dru," Spike said, his jaw muscles tightening then relaxing. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Indeed." Dru grinned. "I'm back in town on business, thought I'd come by and see if you were playing tonight."

"Why don't you go attend to your 'business,'" Xander said coldly. "None of us have the remotest interest in talking to you."

"Xander!" Dru tsk'ed and wagged her finger at him. "That was very mean of you. You hurt my feelings." She pouted.

"Dru, just take off," Angel said, his face stony.

Spike was embarrassed that his friends were taking it upon themselves to speak for him.

"Spike, can I talk to you, luv? Just for a mo'," Dru purred.

"No, get the hell out of here. He doesn't want to talk to you," Xander said.

"Just a bloody minute!" Spike said, his face flushed. "She's my bloody ex. I can speak for myself."

The manager of the club came up. "You guys ready for your next set?"

"Yeah...we're just about ready," Angel said.

They stood up.

"You guys go on," Spike said. "I'll be right there."

They looked at him uncertainly, but went to the stage, casting glances back at the two Brits.

Dru took Spike by the arm and led him to the secluded spot that he and Buffy had talked in.

"I don't have time for this, Dru. I have to go back on."

"Oh, you can't spare your Dark Goddess a minute?" She pouted.

"Just...make it quick."

"Alright." Dru smiled and leaned in to kiss him, her mouth open, tongue at the ready.

Spike pulled back before she made contact with his lips. "Stop it, Dru! You broke up with me, remember?"

"Yes, I was so bad to do that. You should spank me -- spank me harrrd!" She growled and snapped her jaws at him playfully.

"It's over. We're done, through, finito, fin, finished... and any other words you can think of to signify 'the end'. It'd be best for both of us to not get involved again," Spike said firmly.

"I know I hurt you before... Let me make it up to you, darling," Dru said.

She looked around then reached into her purse, pulling out a few small foil packages. She tried slipping them into his hand. He recoiled from her when he realized that they contained heroin.

"I don't want that shit!" Spike said shakily, he looked around them to see if anyone else had seen it.

"It's very good stuff. I just picked it up this morning, I don't mind sharing with you. It's so gooood, luv."

Spike was eyeing her hand that concealed the packets.

"Let me give you a taste, no strings attached," Dru said, slipping the packets into the front pocket of his jeans. "Those cost me quite a bit of money, luv, but you're worth it. Enjoy."

Dru wanted him back. She had been foolish when she left him before. She knew he'd be stubborn about it so she needed a hook, the drugs. He'd be calling her and begging her to come back to him before morning. Dru smiled wickedly and patted his pocket, then brushed her hand over his crotch.

"You can call me at the Hilton." She put her finger against his chest and pushed off. With a giggle and a switch of her narrow hips, Dru disappeared into the crowd.

Spike closed his eyes, praying for strength. Praying... Yeah, that was good, considering how the Big Guy Upstairs probably felt about him after the 'Sister Buffy incident.' His fingers started digging into his pocket to take out the packets and throw them away, but he stopped.

I...can't just throw them away...someone might find them and use them. I'd better hold onto them till I get home. Then I can throw them away safely...

In the back of his mind, he knew it was a lie.

Spike walked back to the stage, forcing an easy smile on his face.

"What did she want?" Xander asked suspiciously as Spike mounted the stage.

"She...wanted to get back together, I told her to go get stuffed," Spike said, adjusting his microphone.

"Good..." Xander said, he still couldn't help feeling nervous.

Dru being back in town spelled badness.


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


After the last set, Spike had left for home in a hurry. The foil packages were burning a hole in his pocket. He was afraid that the guys would see it -- they'd be so disappointed in him that he'd accepted them at all.

Spike went into his bedroom and sat down heavily on his bed. He put his face in his hands. God, he wanted to use it so bad! It was driving him mad; having it in his pocket, ready and waiting for him. He stood up quickly, intending to flush them down the toilet. He stopped.

"No...I shouldn't flush them... They might...contaminate the water or something..."

That sinister, self-destructive, addicted part of his mind prodded him: It wouldn't hurt to do just a little bit. Just to get a little high... I'm the only one who'd know. Then I can throw the rest away. Things have been so rough lately, so much pressure... Don't I deserve to feel good just for a while?

Spike took the packets out and placed them on the bed next to him. He stared blankly at them for a few minutes, losing his willpower with each passing second. Suddenly, the painful, hellish withdrawals seemed a thousand years ago, becoming inconsequential. His friends' guaranteed disappointment and anger didn't faze him either. All that mattered was getting one more fix. Then, he told himself, he'd be done with it forever. (Another lie)

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Spike stood and walked to his closet where he still kept his 'works' -- he hadn't been able to throw the stuff away after he'd quit. With trembling hands he set the box containing his paraphernalia on the bed and took out what he'd need.

Part of him was crying out for him to stop, not to do it. The dark, addicted part of him squashed and pushed down the voice of reason until it was only a frightened, pleading whisper.

A fat tear escaped his left eye and trailed down his cheek. He knew this was stupid, it was wrong... But God help him...he was weak. So bloody weak...





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