Spike staggered down the cellar stairs, noisily dragging the smoking remains of the Buffybot behind him. Warren goggled, eyes wide and mouth agape as arcs of blue and purplish-white electrical current fluttered and fizzed around the pseudo Buffy.

“Need a repair man, Spock.” He tossed the poor, mangled bot at Warren’s feet and limped back towards the door, pausing there to light a cigarette with singed hands.

“Where are you going?” Warren asked. So much for all his hard work, he thought bitterly. At least the vampire seemed to be satisfied. More than satisfied; he positively glowed with gratification. His blue eyes flickered and snapped and his body twitched spastically. There were even wisps of smoke rising from the peroxided white helmet of his hair.

“Gonna go find myself the real thing. Gotta see if she packs as much of a wallop!” he leered. With a final strong whiff of scorched leather, he was striding off in search of the Slayer.

Andrew and Jonathon left their seats and crowded close. Their eyes widened as they took in the pathetic condition of Warren’s creation.

The smell of burnt rubber was cloying. The girlish, pink outfit she had worn lay in shreds around her and she was actually smoldering in some pretty crucial places. Purple hickies bloomed on her exposed skin, but it was the bite marks that littered her neck that caught their attention.

“He bit her,” Jonathon squeeked.

“Lots!” Andrew added, looking after the departed vampire with an expression of complete awe and admiration. Personally, he thought Spike was cool, even if he was more than a little scary.

Warren tittered. “Guess I should have warned him about biting her. He probably took a chunk out of her and got zapped with a few hundred volts of electricity. He’ll be feeling that for a while.”

He lifted her ragged skirt to inspect the bite marks on her thighs and yelped as a cloud of smoke billowed from the remains of robot’s synthetic vagina.

“How am I supposed to fix this…this mess? There’s hardly anything left of her to salvage!”

During his rant, a small fire broke out between her splayed thighs and all three screamed. Jonathon ran for the fire extinguisher while Andrew tried to beat the flames out with his hands.

“Stop that, you sick pervert!” Warren yelled as he dealt the shorter man a smart slap upside the head.

“Ow! Don’t hit me!” Andrew whined. “I was only trying to help!”

“By molesting the poor thing?”

Jonathon ignored them, drenching the spreading flames with foamy chemicals.

“Okay, she’s out,” he hollered triumphantly.

Warren and Andrew left off slapping and pinching each other and joined him. After a few moments, Warren started in with his slimy little giggle. The other two looked at him in confusion.

“It looks like she’s been sprayed with whipped cream,” he snickered.

Andrew rolled his eyes with a huff of indignation. “Oh, and I’m the sick pervert?”

The slayer found him first.

One moment Spike was stumbling along through Restfield, trying to make some sense of his addled thoughts, the next minute he was being knocked on his arse by an armload of petite blonde.

“Spike! Hold still, dammit!”

In spite of his half-hearted squirming, Buffy’s small, lethal hands slapped him about the head and shoulders and then moved downwards in an attempt to smother what she felt certain was vampire flambé.

Still jittering and jiving from his bout with electrical overload, Spike couldn’t help but grin at the picture she made- kneeling there at his feet with her head thrown back- until those almost comically tiny hands walloped at his hips and thighs and his—

“Bloody hell, Slayer! Watch what the hell you’re smackin’ around!” he bellowed, knocking her hands away from his crotch and lurching to his feet.

“Well, excuse me for trying to help, you jackass!” Buffy huffed. “You’re kinda on fire, you know! All I was trying to do was… OH MY GOD!”

She whirled away with a startled shriek, shielding her eyes from his actions. Ignoring her maidenly posturing, Spike had unfastened his jeans and pushed them down around his hips as he peered anxiously down at his abused privates.

“I like it rough, Slayer, but you damn near busted m’ bits!” he groused, running his fingers up and down his semi-erect prong. He couldn’t help but snicker when a bolt of electricity arced from the tip.

Buffy gave up her pretense of not staring and turned to see what had him so amused. Her jaw dropped and her fingers itched to grab what he’d been hiding from her under those tight jeans. She watched, totally mesmerized by those long, pale fingers sweeping up and down his length.

“Is-is it broken?” she asked, swallowing hard against the sudden rush of drool that flooded her mouth.

“Don’t think so.” Spike twitched again as another flash of white fizzed from the end of his pecker. He groaned out a mixture of pleasure and pain as he attempted to massage the current out of his scorched cock. His efforts only produced more friction and he tightened his grip in anticipation of more fireworks.

“Maybe I should check it,” Buffy quavered. “I should… take a closer look… just to be sure it’s… okay.”

“Right nice of you to look out for me, pet.”

“They don’t call me full service Buffy for nothing,” she replied totally innocently, not even a hint of awareness of what she’d implied to the slightly brain damaged vampire.

Spike rolled his head back as she once again dropped to her knees in front of him. “S’pose a closer look wouldn’t hurt,” he growled, nearly swallowing his tongue as her hot little hand closed around him.

“What on earth got hold of you tonight? Some kind of freaky electrical demon?” she wondered aloud, trying to act nonchalant as she pumped him slowly up and down.

“Er…ya…something like that. Fearsome bugger. Juiced me all to hell. Little harder there, if you please, pet,” he babbled. The difference in textures between her soft palms and those of the ‘bot was forcing more steam to roll from his ears.

“Like this?”

“GAHHHRRGH!”

A lustful grin curved her lips and she wet them with her tongue in eager anticipation.

“Oh Spike, I’m so sorry. Look at these bruises!” She glanced up at him, a little unnerved by his spastic twitching. “I should kiss them better, huh?”

She leaned forward and just as she closed her mouth around the velvety, bell shaped head, another jolt of white lightning leapt forth.

As was always the case when electrocution was involved, Buffy found that once her wet mouth touched his twitching cock, the current grabbed her and she couldn’t let go of him.

Every nerve ending in her body flared to life as a couple hundred volts shot through her from where she held him between her lips straight down to her clit. The sudden and intense orgasm ripped through her, leaving her moaning around a mouthful of cock and clinging helplessly to his strong thighs.

Spike roared his ecstasy to the full moon and sank his hands into her hair as his own release jetted forth, filling her mouth to overflowing. He realized she was practically falling over in a faint and reached down to jerk her to her feet, hauling her quivering body tightly to his.

Buffy’s head wobbled back and forth, streams of his glowing cum dribbling from her lips as she fought to focus her eyes on him. Tiny sparkles of electricity danced over her skin and her long hair stood straight out from her head in a static-y cloud.

“Wha? What the fuck was that?” she mumbled with a bleary smile.

The vampire’s answering grin was beyond cocky. “Didn’t I tell you we’d be phenomenal together, Slayer?”

“Wow. That was…just wow…”

“Took the words right out of my mouth, sweetness.” He made an attempt to smooth her crackling hair down and sparks flew between them once more.

She was slow to get her wits back, and when her eyes finally lost their dazed expression, Spike tensed and waited for her to unload on him. Instead, she giggled softly and ran her fingers over his wild mop of curls.

“Are we cranked up or what?” she quipped giddily, leaning into him with a goofy grin.

Heedless of his pants flapping around his knees, Spike started easing her in the direction of his crypt, his hands taking advantage of her buoyant mood and sliding over her breasts and belly as he walked her along.

“Be a shame not to do something with all this energy, wouldn’t it?” he asked hopefully as he guided her through the door. When she started to comment on their surroundings, his mouth swooped down to cover hers and kiss her even more senseless.

Mindless with lust, Buffy allowed him to work his wiles on her as he carried her along with him to the lower level. Every time his lips met hers there were pulses of light from the electricity that continued to build between them.

“’S like a bloody disco in here,” he muttered as he fell back on the bed with his armload of Buffy.

“Yeah. Cool!” she breathed as she sat up and ripped his shirt down the middle. “Your eyes are so pretty when they glow like that, you know that?”

“They’re glowing?” Spike dragged her shirt over her head and promptly buried his face between the small mounds of her braless breasts.

“Mmm,” she moaned her agreement. Gripping his hair, she dragged his face from her bosom and stared down into his eyes. “Kinda like blue fire. Are mine glowy?”

“No, but they will be by the time I get done with you,” he leered before diving back down to nip and nuzzle her perky little treasures. “God, I love your tits, Slayer.”

The slightest touch of skin on skin brought flickers of static light. Buffy wormed her hands between them and grasped his cock eagerly in one while the other fought at the fastenings of her own pants. “Off. Off now,” she demanded.

Peeling her off of him and boosting her up until she stood over him on the mattress, Spike whipped the heavy denim down her legs and tossed them away.

Her underwear didn’t fare so well, becoming shredded before they made it over her hips. Scraps of silk fluttered around them as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and fell back onto the bed, dragging her with him until she knelt with her luscious quim hovering over his face.

“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this!” he growled, biting the inside of each sleekly muscled thigh before burying his face with a rapturous grunt.

Sparks flew with each stroke of his talented tongue and Buffy let loose with a breathless yelp and scrabbled for something to brace herself against his amorous onslaught. Her hands closed around the ornately carved headboard and she hung on for dear life.

Spike was in heaven, lapping up her juices and wriggling his tongue through the hot silk of her folds. Now that he’d tasted the real thing, he wondered how he could ever have been satisfied by her plasticine image with her programmed responses and faint flavor of motor oil.

This entire experience went beyond his wildest fantasies. The only reason he had commissioned the uber-geek to construct the bot in the first place was because he’d been convinced it would be a freezing day in Hell before the slayer allowed him to get close enough to bury his face between her luscious thighs, let alone get an unimpeded- and even voluntary- view of her bouncy, succulent tits.

In fact, nothing in the bot’s repertoire had prepared him for the reality that was Buffy. In spite of his impressive intellect, there was no way the little nerd boy could ever have programmed the slayer’s wild abandon into the limited computer chips of the robo-slayer.

The bot had been entertaining, of course. He could play all the slayer/vampire games with her that he wanted and she couldn’t stake him because of her programming, but when it came down to the kind of games he really wanted to play with the slayer, the robot couldn’t handle the strain of being ravaged by the overly amorous vampire.

The real Buffy didn’t seem to have that problem as she ripped her hands from the headboard and buried them in his hair to hold him in place.


“Spike! Oh God, yes! Yes!” Buffy was lost, her hips bucking as she rode out her orgasmic bliss against his greedy mouth. Each whisk of his tongue over the needy button of her little clit only intensified her mindless pleasure.

By the time he decided to show her a little mercy and flipped her over onto her back, Buffy was a limp and twitching wreck. And her eyes were definitely glowing like iridescent green emeralds, Spike noticed with a satisfied grin.

“I d-don’t know…” Buffy panted. “w-what that demon d-did to you…” She swallowed hard and continued to gasp for breath as he loomed over her. “But I want m-more.”

Since his sweet and nerdy declarations of love in this very crypt, the blonde vampire had become Buffy’s private obsession. True, she had spurned his advances, but they had left her with a new and undeniable physical awareness of him. She found herself sneaking peeks at him when he wasn’t looking, losing herself in the myriad expressions that flitted across his handsome face and silently lusting after his hard, muscular body.

His unabashed dropping of his jeans when she’d nearly emasculated him gave her the opportunity she’d been masturbating to for weeks now and it was just too much temptation to ignore.

Seizing the moment, she snaked her silky golden legs around his waist and filled her hands full of his disheveled hair, dragging him down for some wet, juicy kisses.

Spike groaned. The delicious friction of his throbbing prick slipping and sliding through her sopping cleft was driving him insane with the need for more of her. Those sweet little noises she was making as she rubbed her toes up and down his legs and dug her nails into his biceps only intensified his lust.

Grasping her twisting hips in a bruising grip, he sank his cock in to the hilt, his eyes rolling back in his head as the most incredibly tight muscles gripped him like a velvet vice. Powerful jolts of electricity lifted their hair once more.

“Bloody hell, I haven’t felt this wonky since Red did that spell to get that tracer out of my back,” Spike hissed. Pulsating surges lengthened his dick to almost painful proportions in reaction to her wetness as he pounded into her. The dark room flickered once more with strobe-like bursts of energy as miniature fireworks erupted from their fused bodies. Every inch of their skin glittered incandescently wherever they touched.

The lights swirled around them now in an eddying cloud of white, blue, and green. Spike strained to thrust harder while Buffy could only cling to him, tossing her head back and forth as a mindless litany of praise spilled from her gasping mouth. Only one phrase held any clarity to the lust-crazed vampire.

“Spike, bite me. I need you to bite me,” she hissed in a voice that shivered with her need. The forbidden temptation of his mouth on her throat had her completely enthralled.

Lost in the moment, Spike vamped and started to sink his fangs into her eagerly bared throat, but then pulled back with a suspicious glare. “Got nothin’ in there that’s gonna fry my brains, do ya, luv?” he wheezed.

Buffy groaned, misunderstanding him completely. “Fuck the chip, dammit! I want you to. Bite. Me. Now!”

He bit down joyfully and the world exploded around them in a plethora of blinding colors. Their bodies arched and quivered from the mix of orgasm and electricity that rushed through their bodies, the simultaneous climaxes seeming to suck the very life from their exhausted bodies as they ground helplessly against each other. They collapsed in a smoldering heap of lightly singed flesh.

After what seemed like hours later, Buffy nudged him half-heartedly.

“Gimme a tic and we’ll have another go, luv,” he moaned lapping languorously at the two neat holes in her neck.

“No. Need air. Must breathe,” she panted wearily.

Spike rolled over onto his back, snickering weakly as his still-glowing member flopped onto his belly.

Buffy could barely find the strength to turn her head to see what he was laughing at. She reached out unthinkingly to caress his groin. The instant she touched his hipbone, his cock stood straight up and shot a small shimmering fountain of cum at the crypt’s ceiling.

“Ooooo!” she muttered, her voice filled with the awe most reserved for an impressive fireworks display. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”


“Yeah?” Spike snagged hold of her and dragged her on top of him. “Got lots more to show you, luv. C’mere…”

Sunrise was painting the sky a misty pink by the time the vampire escorted his slayer to her door. The impressive light show had faded away during the second encounter, but the blissfully wicked sensations that Spike was able to coax from her body had seemed never ending.

Buffy was swaying with exhaustion as they kissed ardently on the sidewalk in front of her house. Her legs were still quivery from a night that had run the gamut from animalistic and possessive raunchiness to lovemaking so achingly sweet and tender it had brought tears to her eyes.

If only she’d taken his gesture of chaining her in his crypt for the obviously romantic one it was meant to be, she could have been enjoying this rapture much sooner. She could even have been experiencing his other ideas in regards to the chains he’d bound her with.

She might be stubbornly stupid about some things, but there was no denying that she was well and truly addicted to the slightest touch from her former blond pain in her ass.

To hell with what everyone else thought she needed. Something told her that his strength and devotion would be exactly what she required in the dark days that loomed ahead, and she was determined to keep him close to her side.

“Spike!” she giggled sleepily as he nuzzled her ear with a noisy purr, feeling the vibrations all the way down to her pleasantly achy quim. “You need to get home. The sun’s almost up and I don’t want to risk you roasting any of your parts.”


He let her go with a parting lick over his bite that almost made her knees give way. “Patrol tonight?” he asked hopefully.

“And back to your crypt afterwards,” she promised with a weary yet flirtatious smile. “Maybe we can find that demon that shocked you. You didn’t kill it, did you?”

Spike almost swallowed his tongue in horror. If Buffy ever found out about the robot, she would take great pleasure in pounding him to mush before she staked him and then took a piss on his dust.

“Err…yeah, I did, luv. Sad to say I bested the bugger and he’s toe-up,” the wily vamp improvised. He wiggled his eyebrows lecherously. “Not to say that he doesn’t have any kin skulking about that we might run into.”

Buffy grinned, pulling her hands gently from his grasp as she backed away. “Goodnight, Spike.”

“Night, Buffy.”

The minute her front door shut behind her, Spike was tearing across town to the nerd-boy’s digs. No way was he going to let his stupidity fuck things up with his slayer. Any and all evidence of his misguided attempts to replicate his golden goddess must be destroyed before he did anything else.

Warren screamed like a girl and dropped the unfortunate bot on her head when Spike burst down the cellar stairs. Jonathon and Andrew had fled the scene once it became obvious that repairing the robot was a fruitless endeavor, leaving him alone with the ominously growling vampire.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, but there is no way I can fix her, I swear I tried. I mean, my GOD! What did you DO to her?”

Unable to mask his irritation, Warren gestured towards his defiled creation. “The motherboard is blown, the wiring is fried, and there is no way in hell I can reconstruct the damage… err… ‘down there’. Umm… dude, she’s trashed.””

With a satisfied smirk, Spike gave the android an affectionate nudge with his boot as the perverted Doctor Frankenstein wannabe kept on yapping.

“Did a bomb go off in there or something?” he asked with a nervous giggle.

“No, you git. Just me.”

Spike fixed the little weasel with his most intimidating glare. “Get rid of her. Every bloody scrap. Melt her down. Right now, while I’m watching.”

“But-” Warren gawped at him. “Don’t you want me to try to build you another one?”

The expression on the vampires face was sappily complacent. “Nope. Trust me, mate, she doesn’t compare to the real thing. Not even close.”

“You’re sure? She’s an excellent prototype, you know.” The over-achiever in Warren just didn’t know when to quit, it seemed.

“Did I not just say to destroy her?” Spike growled threateningly. “Get to work. Lucky for you I’m stuck here for the day, so I can make sure you do your job.”

Warren sighed heavily and set to work as the cocky vamp made himself comfortable in the only chair to be had. True to his word, he watched every move the evil genius made as he dismantled and then melted the Buffybot into scrap. When he was finally finished, Warren turned to find a fully vamped Spike within inches of his face.

“One word of this gets out to the wrong person,” he snarled. “If you or your pimply-faced little pals try to double-cross or blackmail me in any way, I’ll send every demon I know to your door. And trust me; I know a lot of them. We clear, Spock?”

“Crystal,” Warren squeaked. “Oh, look! Sun’s down, so you can go now,” he quavered.

Spike gave him one last glare for good measure. “Pleasure doin’ business with you, mate.” And then he was gone in a swirl of black leather and cigarette smoke.

Warren gasped with relief, refusing to look down at the suspicious dampness on the front of his trousers. He sank weakly down into the chair that Spike had vacated, shaking his head.

“No one appreciates good, quality workmanship these days,” he muttered faintly.

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