Title: Trick or Treat

Author: Psycho Husky

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to Joss Whedon. Wish they didn't. (Gotta love my Hemingway-esque disclaimer, eh?)

Summary: Buffy visits Spike on Halloween night. Short, and pointless, but fun.

Distribution: Sure, but who'd want it?

Feedback: Of course. Hate it? Love it? I want to know! Review, or I'll have to kick you in the shins.

Author's Notes: It just sort of came to me as I was walking back from Starbucks and I couldn't wait until October to write it. They must've put something in my coffee.

Trick or Treat

Spike hated Halloween. It had always been that way, and it always would be. It was completely unreasonable, he had thought on more than one occasion. Small children dressing up in idiotic costumes for candy? Absurd. And the ones who went out as vampires never looked like the real thing. Every October he wondered why they didn't just give it up already.

Which was why he was sitting alone in his crypt in front of the television, idly flipping through the channels. Even through the thick stone walls, Spike could hear the decidedly annoying voices of Sunnydale teenagers. Every year, the same group of kids would come to the graveyard in costume, looking for a little creepy fun. Apparently, all the real evil felt the same way he did, and avoided them at all costs, because he noticed that every Halloween they'd stay longer. He wished someone would go out there and scare them off. For once.

But for all his aggravation, he sat there and watched the television, doing nothing about it. Passions wasn't on, so he settled for a rerun of Ricki Lake and tilted his head back, listening to the guests argue but not really paying attention. They were bickering about every little thing, and he instantly made the comparison. They were arguing like he and Buffy did on a regular basis.

Spike didn't remember when, in his head, he began thinking of her as 'Buffy', instead of just 'Slayer.' It was probably around the first time they had slept together, and a slow smirk played over his face at the memory. It had been like a dream come true - he had wanted her since the moment he saw her, since the first time she spoke to him.

She had been aggressive and cocky, all arrogant pride. And it was then that he knew he had to have her, one way or another - and he had tried, but always failed. Until that one night, that is, when she came to the crypt in darkness and kissed him hard, turning all those nights of solo fantasy into a reality. Into a warm body with a raging libido.

It had turned into more than a one night stand, Spike remembered. She had successfully hidden it from the rest of the Scoobies, which he was thankful for. He knew that Willow would be happy for them, as would Tara and Anya. Even Dawn would probably take it well. But it was Xander that he was concerned about, though not for his own sake. If worse came to worst and there was a confrontation, Spike was sure he could take him. Yet, Buffy seemed to love Xander, and needed his support and friendship, which might waver if their relationship came into the open.

But she still found opportunities to visit him, to slip away from the gang and spend time alone with him. And even when they all were together, on their ritualistic Friday night movie-fest at her house, Buffy would still throw him enticing glances and the occasional touch that meant so much more.

A sharp rapping sound brought Spike out of his reverie, and he looked around for a moment before placing the sound. Someone was knocking on the door. "Sod off, no one's home," he called, standing up and scowling irritably. 'Damn kids,' he thought, 'Must've gotten bored with their usual raucous amusement.'

But it persisted, and as the tapping grew louder, so did his annoyance. "I said, go AWAY!" The knocking ceased abruptly, but the door creaked open a bit and a familiar face peeked around the stone slab.

"Spike?"

"Oh. Buffy." His heart seemed to leap, and his expression returned to a smile. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out doing...something?"

"Probably."

The door swung open the rest of the way, and Spike took a sharp, uneccessary breath at the sight. His gaze swept across her figure, which seemed to glow as the moonlight fell over her at an angle. Her costume was amazing, in his opinion - she was dressed as an angel. He sat down on the bed, eyes narrowing slightly. "Come here, so I can look at you."

She didn't hesitate, walking over to the bed to stand in front of him. She held reasonably still as he reached out to trail his fingers over the soft silk and lace of her short, white dress. "Like it?"

"I love--" He started to answer her, but was silenced as she leaned in to kiss him, softly at first, then more urgently as her arms found their way around his neck.

Spike lowered himself to the bed, pulling Buffy with him. She broke the kiss for a moment, sliding her hands down his shoulders to take hold of his wrists. Bringing them up over his head, she reached down into a pocket he hadn't even seen in her dress.

"What are you doing, pet?"

She didn't answer him immediately; withdrawing a pair of steel handcuffs. They gleamed silver in the dim light as she secured his wrists to the bedposts. "Trick or treat." She brushed her lips over the sharp angle of his jaw, pulling back almost immediately to watch his face.

"The trick is obvious, luv ... but what's the treat?"

"You get to search me for the key."

Despite all previous hard feelings toward anything having to do with October, Spike decided right then and there that Halloween was his favorite holiday of all.