"You're lying."
Buffy spun around, stake raised, then glared at her annoying nemesis. "Stop following me."
"You don't have a New Year's date," Spike continued as he took a step towards her from behind a crypt and flicked away a cigarette butt. "It's not like you hang around live people."
"Maybe I'm dating a demon."
Spike snorted. "Why try another brand when you've had the best."
Buffy rolled her eyes and pocketed her stake. "You're so full of it."
"Want to be full of me?"
"Shut up! God, you're annoying and...annoying,," she spit out, spinning around to stalk off.
"Oh come on, Slayer. Don't get all pissy again. What did I do? Was it coming to Christmas? Dawn wanted me there. You didn't seem to mind either."
"Until you tried to kiss me under the mistletoe right in front of her! She can't know about this."
Spike's face hardened, his eyes burning with anger when she turned back to him. "She'd be happy for us."
"There is no us," Buffy persisted. "This is nothing, Spike. Nothing but mind-blowing sex that leaves me disgusted with myself.. And that's over. It has to be over. We can't be anything."
"Because I'm a demon."
"Duh!" With that, Buffy stomped away, feeling Spike's eyes boring into her back as she went.
*****
Willow wiped away yet another batch of tears and reached for her cauldron and the sprig of ribbon bedecked mistletoe. She had been magic-free for nearly a month but the holidays had just been too much for her. Seeing Tara on Christmas Eve with the gang, but being estranged from her, had been too painful. And tomorrow was New Year's Eve and Willow couldn't bear to be apart from her lover for that special night.
So...one last spell.
Gulping back the emotion clogging her throat, she began to chant.
*****
Buffy waved goodbye to Dawn and watched her get in her friend's mom's car for a New Year's Eve sleep over, then closed the door and padded in pink bunny slippers into the living room.
Spike had been right. She'd been lying about the date, unless one counted Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure, and Speed a date.
Well, there was popcorn and wine and Willow was locked in her room with Tara after a surprising reunion over dinner. Buffy had caved when Willow had begged her to invite Tara for dinner, but she'd never thought the blonde witch would forgive Willow so quickly. Considering she'd caught them kissing beneath the mistletoe in the front hall, their hands in naughty places, she figured she'd been clueless about what was going on in her friends' lives.
At least she doubted they'd disturb her movie fest.
Turning on the tv, she hit play on the VCR and settled onto the couch, popcorn on her lap to watch Keanu diffuse bombs and banter with Sandra Bullock, the lucky cow.
*****
The bus was circling the airport when the doorbell rung. Frowning and setting aside her second glass of wine, Buffy hit pause and went to answer the door.
"No."
"Knew you didn't have a date," Spike sneered, then pushed past her into the house.
"I'm getting Willow to de-invite you." Slamming the door behind him, she followed him into the living room, watching in irritation as he dropped to the couch and took a slug of wine straight from the bottle before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
"Thought the witch was off the magic."
"Tara then."
"I'm an invaluable member of the Scooby Gang. You can't keep me out."
"Invaluable how? At being a big pain in my ass?" She snatched the popcorn bowl away from him, setting it aside and grabbing his arm. One hard yank and he was off the couch and ramming into her, making both of them stumble into the hall.
"You've been drinking," Spike grinned, groping her butt as she tried to wriggle away from him. "I like it when you've been drinking."
"Get out!" She stomped on his foot, which did no damage but made him look up and shake his head.
Then he looked down, an evil grin on his face. "Well, lookie, lookie, Slayer. We're under the mistletoe."
"Nghh." Her protest was cut off by his firm yet soft lips on hers and for a moment she sank against him, then shook her head and jerked away from him. "Stop that."
Their eyes met and sudden heat sizzled between them.
"Fuck me," Spike hissed in surprise.
"Yeah. Yeah," Buffy muttered, desire driving away all thought as she stalked back to him and shoved him against the wall. Her mouth found his neck, her teeth biting into him, and Spike growled, his hands grabbing her ass and squeezing. "Shit, now, here, hard, need you," she babbled, dragging his head down to kiss him, her tongue plunging into his mouth.
Spike had a brief moment of sanity. "Niblet?"
"Gone."
And then he dragged her into the living room and flung her onto the couch. As he came down on her, she was already tugging her shirt over her head and kicking off her slippers. Kneeling between her sprawled legs, Spike shrugged out of his duster, yanked off his t-shirt, fumbled with his belt. Her hands joined his, pulling and tugging until his jeans were at his knees and his cock was in her eagerly caressing hands.
"Gonna fuck you blind, Slayer," he mumbled, driving one hand down the front of her pajama bottoms to find her slick and swollen. Buffy's whole back arched off the couch, her head and feet holding her up. Spike yanked down her pants and pushed two fingers into her as his thumb thumped off her clit.
"Coming, oh Christ," she gasped as the orgasm crashed over her, sending her down and trembling onto the couch.
"My turn," Spike barked, slamming down on top of her and pumping wildly into her. He buried his lust-twisted face between her breasts and growled her name over and over as he came.
"Shit...what did you spike the popcorn with," he gasped out as he felt her heart pound beneath his cheek.
"...Nothing." Buffy shoved at his shoulders and he lifted his head. Their eyes met and both of them gasped. "No...This isn't..."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Spike muttered, his hips thrusting on auto-control, his cock hard again in an instance as her inner muscles fluttered around him and her juices flowed again.
Buffy's hands stopped pushing and wrapped around his upper arms, her knees pressing against his hips as she squirmed and bounced beneath him. Her legs were trapped by her pajamas and she growled in frustration. "Let me on top."
"Let me come," he grunted back, slamming into her as another orgasm poured from him.
Buffy shoved him onto the floor and kicked him onto his back before pouncing on him. Nearly ripping off her pants, she straddled his hips and impaled herself. His hands grabbed for her breasts, bruising her as he rubbed her hard nipples and squeezed her soft flesh. She rolled her hips and arched her back and groaned deeply. He was still hard and she rode him mercilessly, rubbing her clit against the base of his shaft as she leaned forward and let him hold her up by his fondling hands on her breasts. Her nails dug into the carpet on either side of him and she hissed with each rasp of her clit against him until finally she came again, shuddering and mewling.
As Buffy started to sink forward, panting harshly, Spike pushed her back up and thrust his hips. "Keep moving."
"Done."
"Selfish bitch," he growled, rolling them and rising to his knees. Cursing, he jerked off his tangled jeans, then grabbed her hips and lifted her. From his knees he slammed his cock into her, driving her back and forth across the carpet. With a growl, he pulled out of her and came all over her heaving breasts.
"Yuck!"
Spike sank back onto his haunches, head down as he panted. "Shit."
Buffy pushed up on her elbows and glared at him. "What the hell was that for?"
"Stop bitching."
Raising one foot, she shoved it against his chest and pushed him away from her. She staggered to her feet and reached for her top, then yelped as he scissored his legs around her and pulled her down on top of him.
"No more," she protested even as her hands wandered down his chest.
"Not natural," he groaned before catching her mouth with his.
Hours later they lay sprawled weak and exhausted on the floor. Spike was on his stomach, face down on the carpet, arms and legs akimbo. Buffy was on her side, head on one of his arms, hand on his ass. She was panting hard. He was acting like he was dead.
Neither noticed the witch creeping into the room, wrapped in a robe, a bright red blush on her cheeks as she avoided looking at them. Hesitantly she cleared her throat. When it garnered no response, she did it again and was rewarded with Buffy blinking open one eye.
"Tara?"
"Um...hi?"
The other eye flew open, both widened, and Buffy scrambled for her top, holding it front of her, her own cheeks turning red with embarrassment.
"Oh god. Spike, get up!"
"Killing me, Slayer," Spike mumbled into the carpet.
"It was a spell. Willow did a spell. She only admitted it when we heard the two of you down here and she guessed you stumbled into it. It's the mistletoe. If you kiss under it, you..." If possible, the blush on Tara's cheeks deepened and she turned her attention to the ceiling as Buffy yanked on her clothes and dragged Spike's duster over his supine form. He managed to turn on his side and blink blearily at Tara.
"'lo, pet."
"Eep."
"A spell. But, Willow said...I thought the cold turkey was working," Buffy said, disappointment outweighing embarrassment for the moment.
"I broke the spell ten minutes ago. I'm so sorry you were caught up in it. I mean, it's only because of it that you two..." Tara swallowed convulsively and continued not to look at the pair on the floor. "Anyway, I'm not happy with Willow but I'm not leaving her this time."
"Huh?"
"I've been talking to Giles over the last couple of weeks and we've determined that Willow can't just stop using magic. It's become too much a part of her. She needs to learn control, so I'm taking her to England where there's a coven Giles is in contact with. They'll help her. They'll...contain her, if necessary. This stuff," She waved her hand vaguely in their direction, "can't happen anymore." With another embarrassed throat clearing, Tara turned and went back upstairs.
"A spell. A sodding spell," Spike muttered, groaning as he struggled to his feet and reached for his jeans, pulling them on with angry jerks. "Fuck." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and glared at the floor.
On the television--the movie long having switched off revealing the local NBC station--the ball began to drop in Times Square, repeated for the fourth time, as it was now midnight on the West Coast, and Buffy watched it, emotion slowly choking her. Her arms went around herself and she began to shiver. As the shouts of 'Happy New Year' sounded, she began to cry.
"Oh fuck, don't," Spike groaned, dropping his duster and going over to hover hesitantly by her side. "It was a spell, Slayer. Nothing to be upset about. We can just forget it."
"And can we forget all the other times that weren't caused by a spell?" she sobbed, raising teary eyes to him. "This is so fucked up, Spike."
Unable to bear her crying, he gently touched her shoulder and when she didn't pull away, embraced her from behind. When she sank back against him, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Okay, if you don't want to forget it, it's like the song, luv. Where to we go from here? We gotta figure that out."
"We...Yeah," she sighed. "You'd think we'd have just proved it's all about the sex but..."
"So, we're not forgetting it?"
Wiping away the remaining tears, Buffy turned in his loose embrace and buried her face against his chest. "Shit."
"Well...it's a new year. Maybe we should start over."
"Maybe...Maybe we should just sit down and talk."
Spike smiled down at her head. "I can do that."
Buffy pulled back and looked at him warily. "Without the smutty innuendoes."
He sighed dramatically but nodded in agreement.
End