The F.G.U.

Title: The F.G.U.
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Summary: See previous chap.


Part three....


~~~~~
"Suddenly, thirstily you're drinking
in your fill of life..."
~~~~~

Mrs. Potter stopped Buffy's protest by pulling her
slightly forward.

"Goodbye, dear," she said, placing a grand-
motherly kiss on the slayer's forehead. "And
try not to worry too much.Things always have
a way of working out, don't they?"

**Not always...**

"Always," Mrs. Potter said firmly, "You are going to
have a long and happy life...and I shall be close
beside you through it all. You may depend upon
that."

Buffy nearly burst into tears at this gentle
declaration. A long and happy life? Could that
possibly be true...for her?

She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that
it just wasn't in the cards she'd been dealt. Slayers
didn't die of old age, or from wasting diseases. They
died in pain...and in blood...and in battle. It was a
fact. Not a pleasant one, but it was still a fact. A
slayer died youngd a d a new one was called at
the moment of her death.

There was even a fancy, five dollar word for the
concept; fungible. Being of such a nature that
one part or quantity may be replaced by another
equal part or quantity.

Replacable. Interchangeable. That's what she was.
What all of them were.

But as much as she knew this to be an inescapeable
fact, she looked up into Mrs. Potter's kindly eyes
right now...and she believed.

Buffy squeezed the old lady's hand a little tighter.
"But...I WILL see you again...won't I?"

"Oh, much sooner than you might expect," Mrs.
Potter said cryptically. "And if you need me before
that day comes, just hold thestalstal in your hand
and wish for it." She indicated the tiny horse and
carriage. "Go ahead and try it out."

Buffy released her hand and reached for the
crystal. Holding it carefully in her cupped hand,
she thought for a moment. She closed her eyes,
for no other reason than it was always the way she'd
seen it done in movies, and made a silent wish.

There was an electronic chirp, and she opened
her eyes and saw that Mrs. Potter was holding a
pager, peering at the message it carried.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she grumbled. Dropping
the pager into her bag, she searched around inside
it and brought out an apple. Deep crimson and
shiny, it looked every bit as tempting as the one
Snow White had accepted from another strange old
woman. "THIS is what you wished for?"

Buffy shrugged. "Not exactly. I wished for chocolate
cake," she admitted, returning the crystal to her
night stand.

"Really?" Mrs. Potter said. "Well, as a great many
people currently wandering through this mortal coil
might say...fat chance."

"It was worth a try," Buffy replied, smiling. "But
I thought you said that you can't alter wishes."

"I altered nothing. Had you been paying attention
earlier, you would recall me telling you that I can
choose not to grant a particular wish, which I did.
The apple was MY idea." She placed the fruit on
the night stand alongside the crystal horse and it's
pumpkin shaped coach. "I refuse to aid and abet
your poor eating habits," she said sternly. "Cake
in the middle of the night? Why, the very IDEA of
such a thing is ludicrous. How can you even suggest
it?"

"I was hungry?" Buffy ventured.

"Oh, I see." Mrs. Potter leveled a deadly serious
gaze on the slayer. "A word of advice, dear; in the
future, kindly do NOT summon me because you're
hungry! You might not like the result."

Suitably chastened, Buffy mumbled an agreement.

The fairy godmother's cheery smile beamed forth
once again, it's sweetness enveloping Buffy in a
down quilt of warmth and love. "Go to sleep."

Like a marionette with it's strings suddenly severed,
Buflopplopped back down on her bed in a deep and
dreamless sleep.

Mrs. Potter tilted her head to one side when she
heard the front door of the house open and close
quietly.

"Right on time, dear boy," she murmured.

With one final look at her favorite godchild, she
was gone.

~~~~~
"But secretly, you just can't believe
it's true..."
~~~~~

Spike closed the bedroom door behind him, grinning
at the view he was presented with.

Buffy was stretched out in the middle of her bed,
arms and legs splayed like a capital X.

It was a sight that never failed to tickle him. He'd
never in his life slept with such a bed hog. She
spread herself out all over the mattress as though
she was claiming it in the name of Spain.

He stripped his clothes off and climbed under
the blankets. Propping himself on one arm, he
looked down at her.

**Beautiful...she's so beautiful...and she's mine...my
girl...**

She looked so happy, so utterly peaceful, that he
hated to wake her up.

But he had to. On his way here, a sudden and
strong need to make love to her had come over
him. The closer he'd gotten to the house, the more
urgent that need had become, until it was a raging
inferno inside of him.

After a brief debate with himself as to the best
way to wake her, he leaned down and began kissing
and nuzzling her throat.

Buffy's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled when
she saw him.

"Mmmm," she said sleepily. "Where've you been all
my life?"

"Waiting for you, kitten," he whispered.

She slipped one hand behind his neck, urging him
down to kiss her. He accepted the invitation, loving
the way she lifted herself to meet him, as though
she was too eager to wait.

"I was having the funniest dream," she said when
he pulled back. "It was...."

Her words trailed off when she glanced at her night
stand.

Spike followed her gaze. "Pretty," he said, gesturing
at the crystal horse and coach. "Is it new?"

She said nothing, still staring at the crystal and the
apple beside it.

"Buffy? Sweetheart?." He gave her a gentle shake.

"Hmmm?" She turned to look at him. "What? Oh!
Sorry," she laughed a little. "It was...a gift from god godmother. It came today." Technically, this was
all true.

The feel of Buffy's warm body was causing Spike
to rapidly lose interest in any other subject.

"It's nice," he said briefly, pulling and tugging at
her until she was lying halfway beneath him. Catch-
ing her face in one hand, he held her still and began
kissing her again, his mouth moving from her lips
and down her throat, lingering at the soft curve of
her breast.

"God, you smell good," he said, returning to her
lips. "And you taste good, too." He licked his
lips. "Is that...peanut butter?"

"Cookies," Buffy said succinctly.

Spike chuckled softly. "Lemme taste." Bringing
his mouth to hers, he paused to enjoy the sensation
of her warm, scented breath, then captured her lips
in a deep, drugging kiss.

She abandoned herself, as all her nerve endings
began dancing just below the surface of her skin. He
always did this to her, elicited this reaction. His
lightest touch in just the right place, was enough to
make her melt and ache with need.

His fingers moved over her, mapping familiar territory,
lingering to play in her most sensitive hills and valleys.

Buffy's own hands were by no means idle. They
trailed over him in a caress that alternated between
light, delicate touching with the tips of her fingers,
and firm squeezing as her nails dug in, leaving their
mark on his skin.

Desperate for air, she broke the kiss. "I love you,
baby," she whispered, staring up into deep blue eyes
made glassy with passion. "I love you so much."

Spike needed to hear those words frequently, more so
than most other men did. He'd waited so long for
her to say them, and he thrived on the sound.

He never tired of hearing them, and Buffy never
stinted on giving them to him.

Pulling back suddenly, he rolled onto his back,
bringing her along with him. "Love you, too, kitten."

Buffy moved down, rising to her knees. "What do
you want?" she asked, attempting to sound coy.

He stared up at her, heat lightning in his eyes.

"Take it off," he said, gesturing at her nightgown.

Slowly...teasingly...she gathered the material in
her hands, pulling it up and over her head. "Now
what?"

He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming her naked
body with lustful intent.

"Make love to me."

TBC.....

(Next...the spuffy naughtiness)
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