CONTENT WARNINGS: This segment is rated a very definite NC-17 for sexual content and language. If you are under 18, or are uncomfortable with this type of material, please return to my Fanfiction Index.
A slender figure stood by a shining pink Cadillac several rows of cars ahead. Spike halted and studied her. Her back was turned towards him, he could only just make out the fine line of the side of her face. She was dressed in a pink Jackie Kennedy suit and pillbox hat. Her longish blonde hair gleamed faintly in the shifting lights from the drive-in movie screen. In this light she almost looked like Brigitte Bardot.
Spike walked up to the young woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to regard him with beautiful, surprised eyes.
"Hello, cutie," he smirked.
She blinked at him. "Do I know you?"
Spike smiled and moved close to her, grabbed her upper arms and pulled her against his body. "You may have seen me about, luv. The name's Spike."
"Oh!" she said with a surprised, lost kitten look. "Could you help me please then? I don't know how I got here and I'm lost. And it's such a dark parking lot. And I'm alone and-and pretty much defenseless."
Spike took her pink pillbox hat from her head and fluffed her blond hair. "Do you need an escort then, pet?"
She fluttered her eyelashes at him and clutched dizzily at his shoulders. "Please," she whispered. And after a hesitant moment, "My name's Amy. Amy Madison."
"Pleased to meet you, Amy," Spike grinned at her wolfishly and bent to suck at the back of her neck.
She whimpered and clung to him, her breath hot against his neck. Spike felt her little heart hammering away at his chest. He smirked. She wasn't Brigitte Bardot after all, but she'd be fun for a little cat and mousing for the moment.
Willow woke up from a fantastic dream in which she'd been having wild sex on the hood of a black Thunderbird hardtop with Giles and Spike in the lot of a drive-in movie theater while a peculiar mix of 'Casablanca' and 'Wizard of Oz' played upon the big screen overhead. She yawned, wondering blurrily where in town she could possibly get a rhinestone tiara, then realized that she was lying on top of somebody's bare chest. A male somebody's bare chest.
On the big screen overhead Shirley Temple and Buddy Ebsen did the "If I Only Had a Brain" dance. At least Ronald Reagan was nowhere to be seen.
Willow yawned again and propped herself up on her elbows to study Giles, who was lying quietly beneath her. He opened his eyes when she moved and they stared solemnly at each other for a minute. He finally reached up to straighten the tiara in her hair. Willow ran her fingers through the curls of hair on his chest. "Usually when I have a dream like this, I wake up before I get to any of the good stuff," she said.
Giles smiled at her and ran his hands past the waves of green tulle at her waist, down to her hips then up to rest on her bare ass. Willow shivered as he drew little daisy chains there. "Perhaps," he said, "we should make good use of whatever dream time we have left."
"Mmm," said Willow as she bent to lick at his eyebrows. She felt him growing hard again beneath her, and squirmed to pull out the obstructing layers of her skirt so she could feel the strain of his cock against her lower belly. He growled, and his probing finger found her asshole. Willow whimpered and pushed herself back onto the digit.
"Okay, this proves it," Giles gasped as her fingernails dug into his ribs. "This has to be a dream."
Willow paused. "You were having some doubt?" she said, acutely aware of the heat in her pussy and the straining proximity of his cock.
"Well --" he grabbed her buttocks with both hands to move her up and over him. "It's been going on a bit long. And --"
Willow reached down to grab his cock and brought it up to her throbbing nether lips. Abruptly her knees gave out under her, and her weight impaled him deep within her. They both yomped, and Willow grabbed hard at his shoulders, drawing blood with her fingernails.
"Christ," Giles exclaimed, and shifted his hands to her waist to hold her down hard. "-- this is a bit vivid for a dream," he continued, panting heavily.
Willow paused in her gyrations, biting at her lower lip. "But -- it is a dream?"
"I could never actually get it up this many times in one night," he said. "Even for you, my dear girl."
"Oh! Good!" She resumed her bouncing.
"Because --" she panted, her voice catching low down in her throat "-- if this wasn't a dream --" She stilled again, leaning in towards him so that her loose hair curtained her face. Her hands lay flat on his chest. His hands moved restlessly down her waist to her thighs. "Not thinking about that," Willow finally said. "Definitely not thinking about that because we are dreaming and it doesn't have to be thought about."
Giles moved his hands from her thighs to her bared breasts and pinched her nipples hard. Willow threw her head back and cried out as she felt herself cresting, pulsing around him. His hips ground up into hers and she felt his hot climax flooding inside her. The sensation broke her precarious balance at the peak, and she fell onto his chest still clutching at him.
"Oh boy," Willow said in the aftermath, her nose buried beneath his chin.
"Your tiara is in my nostrils," Giles complained, although he seemed too limp to do anything about it.
"Sorry." Willow shifted her head so that it rested against his chest, her ear pressed to his heartbeat. It was fairly skittering -- all because of her, she thought, impressed with herself. "Another good thing that this is a dream," she finally said.
"Hmm?" Giles was now making cat's cradles out of her hair. Willow rolled an eye up at him in annoyance.
"Xander is just across the lot over there, headed in our direction. It would be kind of embarrassing if he caught us making out like this in real life. But since it's a dream -- well, because we know it's a dream -- we can just make fun of him when he gets here."
Giles turned his head to regard Xander, who was several car rows away, weaving in and out between the identical blue and white Chevrolet Bel Airs. He was dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, but he had a most definite un-scoutlike lost look about him. He obviously hadn't seen them yet.
Giles smiled. "Want to have some fun, luv?"
Willow grinned down at him and rubbed her nose against his. "Like what?"
He smoothed her green tulle skirt down and gently eased her up and off of him. "Grab your scepter then." He sat up and slithered off the side of the Thunderbird, pulling up and fastening his pants as he did so. He then bent down to retrieve his t-shirt and black leather jacket. "I think Xander deserves a little lesson in how not to take a lady for granted."
"Oh please oh please stop," Amy mewled as she backed round the boot of the pink Cadillac. Her wide eyes regarded Spike with terror, only piquing the vampire's interest more.
"Now pet. You know what you want," Spike smirked. She tried to dart away to the side, but he cut off her retreat with an arm and leaned into her. "Or shall I tell you?" He caught her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him.
"Please . . ." Any whispered, unable to tear her gaze from his face.
Spike took her hand and nibbled at the tips of her fingers, watching her with a feral smile. She reached out with her trembling other hand to tentatively touch his coat. "Got to tell me what you want, pet." Spike licked a line up her wrist, along the pulse line. Amy closed her eyes and drew in a short gasp of breath. Her free hand, with a mind of its own, slipped under his coat and down his side towards his trousers.
"Please . . . don't . . ." Amy sniffed. A single tear escaped from her shut eyes. Spike bent to kiss an eyelid, tasting the salty wetness there. Another tear escaped.
"Please don't fuck me," Amy gasped, staring in his eyes and weaving like a spellbound mouse.
"Whatever you say, pet." Spike leaned into her, cupping her rounded ass in his hands. Her hands faltered for purchase against the car behind her. He moved his fingers to her waist and found the pull tab for the zipper to her pink skirt. "It's a warm night. Why don't we get you a little more comfortable?"
"Okay," she said in a tiny voice. "But please don't fuck me."
Spike pushed her skirt down her hips, then pulled her pink jacket off, took her simple cream-coloured top off over her head. Amy stood pressed against the pink Cadillac, dressed in a lacy pink slip and pink high heels. Spike stood back to devour for a moment her mussed and fearful blond scrumptiousness. "You're a picture in pink, luv. I could just eat you up."
He grasped her at the back of the head and drew her in, nipping at her neck enough to draw two fine beads of blood. Amy cried out and looped her arms around his waist. He licked and sucked at her neck, savouring her sweet innocence, nuzzling violently into the rose scented waves of her blond hair.
She began to rub up and down his body, her head tilted to one side to urge him on. "Oh goddess, please don't fuck me," she moaned and slipped both hands down the back of his trousers.
Spike grabbed her under the thighs and tossed her up on the boot of the Cadillac. Amy flopped backwards, her legs sprawled. Grinning, Spike slowly crawled over her to hook his fingers into the delicate lace at the top of her slip. "What did you say you wanted?"
Her eyes grew immense at the sight of him in his game face. Spike kissed her hard, slipping a hand up under her slip to finger at her womanhood through the silk of her knickers. The fabric was soaking wet. He looked into her face with a knowing grin and pressed a thumb up into her.
She whimpered. "Don't fuck me . . ."
"Crap," Spike growled, and took his hand away. "If you want it, pet, you're going to have to ask for it."
Amy suddenly looked very annoyed. "Do I really have to spell it out for you?" Her knees dropped.
Spike pulled off of her and started to hop down from the car. "Look luv, I'm not so hard up that I'm keen to play these ladies' games. If you want a good hard humping then say so, otherwise I've got people I'd rather be terrorizing."
"What are you talking about!?" Amy sat up, hanks of blond hair falling into her face. "You're a vampire. You don't have to get my permission. Just ravish me!"
"Oh, right," Spike said. "Right wonderful frightened little girl act there. You think I can't tell that you're faking it? Well I'm telling you straight up, that isn't a proper turn-on. If you want to get done, then open it up and say so. Else I'll be on my way."
She snuffled and ran the back of her hand across her nose. "All right. But you've got to pin me down. And call me a bitch."
Spike stepped up on the rear bumper, shrugging out of his coat. "Anything to oblige a lady."
"You know," Amy said as the vampire pushed her back down on the boot of the car, "I don't think I like your attitude much."
Spike sighed, pulled her up again by the wrists, and shoved her roughly down. "I don't have time for a high maintenance date now, girl. Take this or leave it." He shoved her slip up around her waist and tore down her pink lace knickers. He reached for the zipper to his pants.
"Why aren't you wearing your vampire face any more? Put it back on." Amy wriggled out from under him to put a wickedly spiked high heel up into his crotch.
Spike caught her heel, pried the shoe off and threw it to one side. "It isn't going to come back if you keep annoying me." He grabbed her other ankle and pulled it up to pry the shoe off, then boosted her legs up over his shoulders. "Comfy, pet?"
"Please don't fuck me!" Amy cried out as she eyed his cock hungrily.
"All right, that's it." Spike tried to pry her legs off.
Amy strained up and locked her ankles around his back. "Where are you going?" she cried. "You're not going to get far like that!"
"I'm not going to let any bit of a girl start leading me around by my pecker," Spike snarled at her. "Crap, what'uv you been doing to develop these legs?"
"Cheerleading camp," Amy said with a smirk.
Spike shifted into game face and bit into her thigh. Amy yelped, but only tightened her grip on him.
"Ask for it!" Spike snarled at her. Then as an afterthought "-- bitch!"
That seemed to satisfy her, and she flopped back with a whimper. "Please fuck me!"
"Finally!" Spike grunted and grabbed her hard by the shoulders as he entered her. He pounded hard against her only briefly before she arched shrieking back against the car. Randy little thing, he thought as he climaxed with a snarl. She grabbed hard at his head and before Spike knew what was happening her teeth were slashing at his neck.
"Hey!" He grabbed her head and shoved it to one side. "I'm the blood-sucker around here."
"So suck," Amy demanded.
Spike pulled back. "You're a right little prima donna, aren't you? Didn't your mum ever tell you what happens when a vampire sucks your blood after you get a mouthful of his?"
"It's a dream," she said stubbornly. "So it doesn't matter. Suck my blood."
Spike pulled out of her. "Don't take this wrong, but I don't fancy you as a vampire even in dreamtime." He pulled up his pants and fastened them. "Besides, I have business 'cross the lot. Nice fucking you though, pet."
"You said you'd escort me!" Amy said indignantly, hauling herself to sit up. "You promised."
"Yeah, looks like you'll have to take a rain check then." Spike grimaced as he stepped on a jagged pebble. Not only did the Watcher and the redhead have Dru and his Thunderbird, they had his boots as well. Time to rectify that.
"You come back right now," the blonde was demanding. With her hair roughed up on her head and her eyes glowing hotly, Spike was taken with her all over again.
"You're a picture," he said. "Look if you're that keen, hike up your slip and wait here. If I've got time, I'll come back and do you again."
Amy sat up straight and pointed at him. "Goddess Hecate --"
"The name's Spike, luv." Spike started to turn away.
" -- work thy will --" A ball of fire started to weave about her fingertips. Spike suddenly got the uneasy feeling that maybe he'd taken the demon lover thing a bit too far. He shifted back into game face and leapt for her throat.
"See the horny thing demote to its merit!" Amy screamed at him.
The fireball enveloped Spike in a shrieking transmorgifying web. He yelped and tried to run. And found that he couldn't manage it on just two legs anymore.
The fire went out of Amy's eyes, and she stared at him. "Oh my goddess, I'm so sorry." She hopped off the car and came running to him. "I did that in the heat of the moment."
Spike called her an ugly obscene name, but it came out as, "MAAA!"
"You shouldn't have been so nasty," she griped. "Don't worry. There's a Big Book in my Caddy. I think it's my Dream Spellbook. I can turn you back." She reached out to scratch the space on Spike's head between his horns. "If it's any consolation, you make a really cute goat, Spike. All blond with these pretty pink tints in your hair."
Spike lowered his head and had a go for her.
"Wait wait!" Amy yelped, scurrying up top of the car's boot. "I said I was sorry! Here, see?" She pulled an immense book from the back seat of the convertible. The book was pink and covered with glittery jewels of all different colors. "My spellbook. Now hold still a minute and we'll get you back to your smirking horrid studmuffin self, okay?"
Spike planted his front hooves on the bumper and glared at her.
"You've gotta promise not to fuck me again. Okay?" she said sternly.
Spike leapt up on top of the car and nipped at her with pointed teeth.
"Ouch, okay! Stop it!" Amy tumbled backwards into the back seat, then rolled up again to ward him off with the book. "Chill out, okay? You want my help, or not?"
Spike backed up a step and waited.
"Okay then." She opened the book and paged through it. "Let's see. Trance. Transfiguration. Transmogrification. Hmmm. Oh yeah, okay. I remember now." She frowned, squinting at the page. "I think." She straightened and waved her hands in the air. "Hold onto your horns, goat-guy. Powers of Hecate, Call the essence of who He was, A-rose!" A spray of light shimmered through her fingers and settled over Spike.
Amy stared, then frowned. "Okay --" she said. "That's not it." She tilted the book sideways. "Huh. Wonder what made it do that?"
Spike shook the garlands of pink roses from his body and jumped at her.
"No wait I can do it!" Amy shrieked as he pulled the book from her hands with his teeth and trampled all over it. "Okay I'm guessing you don't want me to wing it any more, right? It's okay. I know what to do!" As she talked, she grabbed several of the rose garlands and tied them together. Before Spike knew what was up, she'd looped the rose rope into a noose and dropped it over his neck. "You got to come with me though." Amy tightened the noose. For some reason the heavy aroma of the pink roses had an intoxicating effect on Spike. he stumbled a bit, unable for the moment to resist her.
"Because I saw Mr. Giles come by here not long ago," Amy said as she hopped down from the car and wrapped the rose rope around her fist. "He knows the de-transmogrification spell!"
"Maaa Maaa!" wailed Spike.
Xander was lost and confused. It wasn't helping that the big drive-in screen overhead was replaying the battlefield scene from 'Gone With the Wind' entirely with Munchkins and hoards of evil flying monkeys. Or that every car here looked exactly the same. Or that the compass in his hand spun round and around and around without stopping. And what was up with the four directions on the compass face anyway?: C I 8 U.
"Not in Kansas anymore," Xander said unhappily, and shook the compass. And suddenly there were two people walking on either side of him. At first he thought he was being blind-sided by two refuges from 'Grease'. Second look confirmed the fact that things were seriously funky in his world.
"Giles, Willow. Am I glad to see you guys!" Xander said. "Uhm --" he took a third look at Willow on his left, all in fairy princess green tulle and rhinestones, and Giles on his right, in black leather and jeans and a wiggy smirk. "I think I'm glad to see you. What's with the costumes?"
"What costumes?" Willow said. She looped her arm through Xander's elbow and reeled him in. "Do you know what he's talking about, Giles?"
Giles threw an arm over Xander's shoulders and reached over to tweak her ear. "Not a clue, my dear."
"Uh -- well." Xander took an uneasy look at Giles. "You're usually dressed, kind of more like you. This isn't like you." He turned another uneasy look at Willow. "This look is not you, I mean."
"Which look is that, Xander?" Willow smiled sweetly at him.
"Well the uh -- wetdream look," Xander blurted out before he could stop himself.
Willow looked at Giles. "Is he insulting us or saying nice things?"
"Who the bloody hell cares?" Giles said and tightened his elbow around Xander's neck.
"Well, this is going to be more fun if he's insulting us," Willow declared. She let go of Xander's arm to open her purse and withdraw a long glittery object.
"What's that?" Xander said uneasily.
Giles halted and pulled Xander around to face him. "Willow has a surprise for you," he said mildly, as he untied the big yellow scouting bandana that Xander wore around his neck.
"You betcha," said Willow over Xander's shoulder.
"Uhm guys, you can stop now. Okay? You're giving me a major wiggins here."
"Why Alexander Harris," Willow said reprovingly. "You'd think that you didn't trust us or something. Who can you trust better than your best bud?"
"And I'm Caution Man," Giles said as he folded Xander's scarf over into a long strip. "You can easily predict what I'm going to do. Right?"
"Right," Willow chirped back. "And we're nice and comfortable with each other, since we've been buds forever."
"Comfort is not part of the scenario here," Xander admitted as Willow wrapped her arms around his waist and set her chin on his shoulder. He glanced down nervously at the glittery object she still held in her hand -- its head was thumping him in the chest.
Giles smiled. "Very good. You're not a complete and total idiot."
"Ah-ha!," Xander jittered nervously. "Okay, I get it now. Good disguises, but you're not Giles and Willow, but some demon imposters. And I'm in big trouble. Uh, right?"
"One out of two gets you a 'C' in Brilliant Deductions, Sherlock," Willow said.
Xander blinked. "Okay. Heh. I'm not in big trouble? But if you're demon imposters --"
"Give it up, Xander," Willow said in exasperation. "This is just a stupid dream. Stop fighting it."
"Stop -- fighting it?" Xander squeaked as Giles leaned in and slowly licked a line up the side of his neck.
"Yeah," Willow said evily. "Wonder why you're having sexual fantasies about us?"
"Oh. My. God," Xander said, as Giles unbuckled the belt to his khaki shorts and pulled it out of the loops.
"That's a good summation of the situation," Giles agreed. "Let's let it rest at that for a while." He stuffed the bandana in Xander's mouth and passed the ends back to Willow, who pulled them tight and knotted them. She then jerked his wrists behind his back. Xander half-turned around with a muffled protest, but Giles hauled him around again with a hand wrapped in his shirt. Willow looped something satiny smooth wrapped in cold hard metal links about his wrists and secured them. "Got him!" she said cheerfully.
"Good show, off we go then!" Giles grabbed Xander under the arm and Willow grabbed him under the other arm, and together they gave him the bum's rush past several cars towards a black Thunderbird that Xander had inexplicably missed seeing earlier.