Title: Show Me Something Blue (though this is open to suggestion)

Author: Megan

Rating: R—just to be safe.

Summary: Set during the episode i Something Blue. /i Buffy comes to her senses before she trashes those drool-worthy lips of Spike!

Disclaimer: I have no rights to BtVS. All is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy

Betas: Holly, as always, my huge confidence booster. A new addition, Slackerace, for adding the end polish that made me feel I wouldn't be totally embarrassing myself, and Schez, who is always brilliant with the little additions! Thank you so much guys.

Chapter One

Reality tore through Buffy like scorching hot winds. Her body was tight with sensation—with adrenaline brought on by fighting for their lives as well as from the lure of incredible sex with her fiancé.

Willow stood, arms held out as she reversed it all, her face a little sheepish, as if she'd accidentally mixed her milk with instant gravy instead of Nesquik. And Buffy still straddled Spike, her mind slowly catching up with the knowledge that she shouldn't be cupping Spike's cock between her thighs, that she shouldn't be loving his mouth with all the intensity of a bride-to-be. Her racing mind replayed words said to her friends and watcher, declaring that she was the Slayer, and not susceptible to the silly spells that Willow constantly screwed them over with.

She pulled away, dazed with yearning, and those words replayed over and over with furious pace. Just as Spike screwed up his face—simultaneously with her emerging revulsion—all Buffy could feel racing through her veins was humiliation. Oh God, she'd been kissing her enemy. Kissing a vampire. Crap. Kissing Spike! And she was supposed to be above being sucked in by Willow's spell kablooeyness. She was so going to kill her best friend, and she was going to really make it hurt when she did.

But in the meantime, she had damage control of the pride variety, and Spike was so not going to make her look like a spell-possessed idiot.

"Spike lips! Lips of Spike!" she improvised desperately, trying so hard to wipe the horror off her face while she clutched at his coat and slammed her lips back onto his. Under the cover of the leather, and determination to protect her plan before he tore himself away and blabbed for all the world how dumb and susceptible she was, Buffy grabbed a hold of his throbbing penis through the too tight denim and squeezed…hard.

"Mmmmm, yummm," she said even as she glared steely hate into his shocked eyes, and her belly roiled in disgust. Then, proving he wasn't as stupid as they all thought he was, he grabbed her around the waist and held her to his body tight, trapping her hand between them as he forced his tongue into her mouth.

Buffy would've gagged, but appearances were totally important to her right now. She closed her eyes and desperately tried to remember what it was like to kiss Angel this passionately. There was nothing she could compare to. While Angel had bestowed little else but sweetness upon her, Spike plundered her mouth like some trashy romance novel, except the swell of his appendage in her hand and the wetness between her legs wasn't trashy. Unholy, yes, but trashy was on another planet for now. It was hot and Buffy felt like slapping herself for being turned on by a situation that should have been making her heave. And was, even if it was internally. She was puking up all over the place in her head.

It was just a pity her body hadn't caught onto the visual—even if that revelation would completely counteract what she was doing.

There was no way Buffy would admit to getting lost in the pressure and length of his kiss, not even when horrified coughs interrupted the crawl of her fingers through his hair. But that was totally of the good, right? Made it all kinds of authentic and she was less the psycho-idiot-super-slayer that was taken over by her friend's magic.

It was Spike that eventually pulled away first, though it was with a look of hazed surprise as he stared bemusedly at her lips. Buffy couldn't stop the embarrassing panting that was the result of being kissed within an inch of collapse, and her body nearly hummed with craving a repeat.

"B-Buffy? You can stop now. I-I reversed the spell."

Rather than inspire her relief, Willow's mouse-like repentance turned Buffy's stomach—possibly even more than the lips of her enemy. Just to prove she didn't care, that the spell wasn't what had inspired her rush into romantic madness—with Spike, of all vampires—Buffy lowered her angry gaze and defiantly pecked Spike's puffy, kiss-drunk mouth.

Though a quick moment later she pulled away, feeling years older. Spike seemed just as stunned and had completely lost that 'stake-me-now-for-I-have-kissed-my-mortal-enemy' mask of horror that his face had been sporting just minutes earlier. Buffy was absurdly pleased; suddenly inspired to stick to her spontaneous plan of not looking stupid and weak to her friends, she turned to Willow with a raised brow, refusing to loosen the link of her arms around Spike's neck.

"Stop? Why would I stop, Will? I mean, I know it was fast and everything, but God, Spike is the hottest kisser ever. I can't believe I never saw what was right in front of my nose this whole time."

Three dumbfounded faces stared at the entwined pair slack-jawed and Buffy could feel her skin crawling where it was in contact with Spike's body. The weakness she was trying to hide swirled in her belly and Buffy felt the heat of bile as it rose up.

"You guys are okay now, right? Xander's done with the attracting abnormal numbers of monsters to kill him? Good." Not waiting for an answer, Buffy seized Spike's hand and almost crushed it as she dragged him outside the crypt. Suddenly overwhelmed by what had just happened, she quickly hid behind some bushes and puked up her last meal. Pushing weakly back to her feet, Buffy realised she was still holding Spike's hand and flung it from her as violently as she could while not giving the game away to her group of friends now crowding the crypt doorway.

"Am I the only one who thinks the Buffster's out of her freaking mind?" Xander searched the darkness around them for any sign of his friend and her luminous-haired companion and sighed dramatically when he'd reasoned that they'd gone. An obviously abhorrent prospect of what they might be rushing away to do crossed his mind and he shuddered violently.

Anya patted his back in a soothing motion and glared at Willow. "I think Willow did the reversal wrong. She obviously mucked it up somehow."

Indignant at first, Willow spluttered, "I did not," before admitting to herself it was more than possible. Only she could screw up a spell so spectacularly and have Buffy and Spike smooching in front of them all. "Okay, so I screwed up. But I can fix this."

Anya scoffed even though Xander grinned at her with the kind of confidence only a best friend could bestow. "I know you can, Wills."

"Although," started Anya, looking off thoughtfully past the grave markers, "Buffy could just really enjoy Spike's kisses. It isn't as if we couldn't see the sexual tension between those two."

"Anya!" Willow and Xander shouted loud enough to wake the dead, and were eternally grateful that it didn't happen—despite their location practically screaming for fulfilment.

"This is all kinds of bad. Willow, you've got to get help from Giles. If you've got Buffy still macking on the undead, I'm gonna seriously lose my lunch."

The three moved off and Buffy rolled her eyes. "Already there," she mumbled sickly, hunched over at the waist and trying to hold back the urge to heave again.

"You better make sure you brush your teeth before you try an' snog me again, Slayer."

Buffy looked up, shaking with hatred. There was nothing she wanted to do more than declare a Spike-free zone permanently at her lips, but there was no way Buffy could do that and make sure everyone understood that she and Spike got engaged on their own terms—not by virtue of some tacky spell of a grieving witch. If it got around in the demon world that she was susceptible to her own friend's emerging power in magicks, she'd have every magical hack trying to subdue her somehow. There was no other option but to pretend that she was truly engaged to Spike—and loving it.

But only in public.

In private, it was a totally different kettle of ducks.

"OW! What the bloody hell was that for, you violent bitch." Spike rubbed his aching nose and glared daggers at the diminutive blonde that had too much power over his existence, and too much speed to warn him of what he should have expected.

Buffy smiled genuinely for the first time since she'd awakened to the horror of being Spike's voluntary smut muffin. "You didn't think getting married would change me, didja?"

Spike growled and Buffy held back a small squeak at what the sound had unearthed in her belly. Her body felt all tingly and suddenly she wasn't so certain where to look—only that she couldn't look at Spike when she was feeling suddenly weak and titillated.

"You want to explain that little performance in there? Or should I just guess?"

How had he managed to light up a cigarette right in front of her without her even noticing?

She'd become a little distracted maybe, but Buffy soon snapped back to attention when she thought of some of the obscene reasons Spike might feel compelled to share as explanation for her strange behaviour. In everyone's world it would have made more sense for Buffy to stop the kiss the second commonsense had slammed back into her skull. Even now, it seemed pretty dumb that she'd carried it on, subjecting herself to the almost certain ridicule and disbelief of her friends.

The consequences were only just starting to hit her and Buffy felt a surge of irrational giggles create pressure in her chest. It had to be released, and in the face of Spike's irritation, Buffy succumbed to it.

"You should have seen your face." She snorted as he repeated it, feeling strangely reassured by the expected display of disgust. Finally they were having the honest moment, and Buffy was loving it.

"Stick your slithering, slimy tongue back down my throat and I'll see if I can do it again." His lip was curled in a sneer and the predictable sight of it made Buffy shiver—it wasn't long enough since she'd last had those cold, fleshy lips against hers.

And with that devastating memory, Buffy's whole body shuddered violently.

"The next time I kiss you, you so better act like it's the best kiss you've ever had or risk disintegration from my nice pointy stake." Hands on hips, Buffy glared as Spike's eyes nearly popped.

"Are you off your bird? Why the hell would you do it again, you barmy bint? And who said I wouldn't prefer a piece of wood in my chest than Slayer on my lips?" Spike's face screwed up so grotesquely Buffy was almost scared out of her wits. "If I'd known I was in for cruel and unusual punishment coming to you lot for clemency, I'd have taken my bleeding chances with the soldiers."

Buffy's eyes narrowed as she bore down on him, an ugly curl to her lips doing more to warn him than her fist full of stake ever could have that he was pressing dangerously against her last nerve.

"Not only am I b going /b to kiss you again, you ass, but you are going to act like you love it. You are going to convince my friends and anyone else we have to put this sickening freak-show on for that you would rather give your life than spend a day without my mouth attached to yours."

It took a few minutes of total silence for Spike's eyes to unbug and he reached for another cigarette with shaking fingers. "Just what is going on here? It was a spell. You don't have to be embarrassed about it. You've already chundered—and rather insulting that was too, if I do say so—now why don't you just move on? Preferably to another hulking Angel wannabe so I can wash your taste out of my mouth and forget this humiliating episode ever happened."

She was a fool if she'd actually expected Spike to understand. Her sensitivities were presumably far from his concerns, and just because he was all chipped and no physical danger to her, it didn't mean he was suddenly incapable of thinking up flawed plans to kill her. He just had to find someone else to do it while he sat back and waited for the blood to flow. The potential he now had to harm her with this kind of information nearly blew her mind. Any magic-inclined freak could come along and render her powerless. Why go searching for Council-approved Cruciamentum Slayer-weakening juice when she could be rendered paralysed at any demon's whim?

She had to play this carefully. Obviously Spike was yet to catch on to what kind of damaging information he had at his fingertips. She could threaten him, yet somehow Buffy couldn't see him being all that cowed by her automatic promises to turn him into dust. Somehow, that threat had lost its bounce—and more than likely from the number of times she'd b not /b carried it through. So a bribe it would have to be—except what the hell did you offer a vamp who had nothing? Particularly when her own scalp hanging from his belt would make him happier than a pig in mud.

Ooh! Freedom. Spike may have come rumbling into town looking for invulnerability, but he'd ended up practically halving his potential by being stupidly caught and chipped. As much as the idea of a free-range Spike returning to the populace made her want to add to the puddle on the ground at her feet, it was something that just might guarantee his silence. And as thus, should not be a possibility easily discarded.

That so didn't mean he had to be clued into the sitch. An ignorant Spike was the very best kind and Buffy was going to make it her mission to keep him in the dark as much as he was accustomed.

"What is going on here is that you are going to do as I say and keep all your thoughts about it to yourself. If I hear you say one word about not being totally in love with me, I'll cut out your tongue. If you flinch or pull away when I kiss you, I'll—" Okay, so it was totally easy to fall back into the threats and she was positive she'd gotten that point across anyway.

"Fine. Skip the reasons why you've completely lost your mind. Jus' tell me what's in it for me." Head tilted to the side, avid interest making him focus sharply on the misleadingly diminutive pocket-rocket, he eyed her up and down to make sure this was the same blonde that had kicked him up and down Sunnydale in the past. It was funny. Before tonight, he would never have suspected the Slayer was operating on only half her marbles, but obviously he'd kissed her senseless without even knowing it.

Buffy grimaced and knew she looked in pain. And she was really, but self-preservation had her straightening her spine and subconsciously pushing her chest out.

"If you behave like a good boy, and make sure nobody suspects this dumb engagement is phony, I'll…I'll—" She gulped, hard, and sucked up her courage while determinedly ignoring the misery that made her want to weep at the injustice of it all.

"You'll what? Feed me my blood naked?" He chuckled as Buffy nearly fell over in shock. Her disgust couldn't be any more obvious as she took a frantic step away from him and clutched at her objecting stomach.

The hate she felt was immeasurable as she stared him down, imagining torturing him with fifty stakes just missing that one big target on his chest. His completely clothed, revolting chest. Buffy felt the bile rise as latent memory of her body experiencing his not so many hours ago struck her almost off her feet.

As much as it had to continue, it also had to stop—and preferably with her life and reputation intact. Desperation fuelled her impulsive stupidity and Buffy blurted her offer before she agreed to something even more idiotic.

"I'll help you get the chip out of your head."