AN: It's been forever, I know! I won't bother with excuses, but I can promise you that the next chapter is finished and will be posted tomorrow. Also this chapter contains some bonus Buffy/Spike sexy times! That will, however push the rating slightly. It's nothing too graphic, but I'd give it a hard T just to be safe.

Takes place between Doublemeat Palace and Dead things. Remember what I said last chapter about there not being many chapters for season 6? Yeah. That means some pretty serious time jumps.

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Sunnydale, 2002

Andrew sighed and spun around in his wheelie-chair. "I'm bored."

Jonathon didn't even look up from his ancient text. "You're always bored."

"I know! I thought being super villains would mean getting to fun things all the time. Instead it's mostly sitting around doing nothing."

"So go to bed." Jonathon jerked his head toward the cluster of cots in the corner. Warren was already snoring soundly from the one closest to the stairs. "You aren't the one on night watch."

"I'm not sleepy." Andrew was approaching whining at an alarming speed. Jonathon grumbled and set aside his book. "Aren't you supposed to be finding, like, glands or something?"

Andrew sighed again. "Yeah, but I can't summon a Homja-Maleev in the middle of the night. Do you think Buffy's still out doing stuff? It's fun to watch her sometimes. Like Ed TV."

Jonathon considered reminding Andrew that life wasn't a movie, but one can only repeat things so many times before they become monotonous. Besides, that idea wasn't half bad.

"We could check. If she's out patrolling, maybe we could pick up on some of her weaknesses. It never hurts to be prepared."

Andrew turned towards the computer in front of him, and started to fiddle with the video feeds. "Hmm. Not at the Doublemeat, not at home, not the Bronze…" He typed in another code. The feed from Restfield kicked in. Buffy appeared, with Spike trailing close behind. They appeared to be arguing. "Presto!"

"Turn up the volume."

Andrew craned around to cast a look of concern to Warren's sleeping frame.

"Don't be a wuss. Just turn it up a little. He won't wake up."

Andrew bit his lip, but he raised the volume. It was low, but a voice that undeniably belonged to Spike filled the lair.

"Stop fighting it Slayer! We both know how this little routine ends."

"No! I have to get home, Willow's in a night class and Dawn's all alone."

"Bit can take care herself for an hour. Or Several." Was it Jonathon's imagination, or was Spike's voice getting oddly…seductive?

"Come on sweetheart. You know you want it."

Andrew looked over his shoulder. "What is he-?"

Just then Buffy pulled her arm back in the unmistakable pose of someone about to let loose with the punches.

"Shut up Andrew! She's about to hit him!"

Buffy swung her fist forward but Spike caught it and pulled her forward. Their lips met with a fury.

Jonathon was so shocked he actually took a step backwards. "Whoa."

"Plot twist." Andrew breathed.

On the computer, their arch nemesis was struggling to get Spike out of his jeans, and he in turn was busy relieving her of her own.

Andrew was staring at the computer with rapt attention. "Holy crap."

"Oh my god." Jonathon muttered weakly as Spike pulled Buffy into his arms, and she locked her naked legs around his waist. "Aren't they going to go inside first?"

One of them, he couldn't be sure of whom, moaned and Buffy began to bounce up and down.

"Apparently not."

Suddenly Jonathon was seized by memories from another, nearly forgotten, life. Spikes fingers on Buffy's cheek, ghosting along her arm, stroking her hair, almost like he was magnetized to her. The stuttering intake of Buffy's breath, the look on her face, not quite fear and definitely not revulsion. The feeling that if he was stupid enough to stand between them, he'd go up like a fledge in the sun.

A gasp brought him slamming back to the present, and his skin crawled with the feeling of intruding on something intensely private.

Andrew was still riveted to monitor, his jaw hanging open. Spike was stumbling forward, Buffy still writhing in his arms.

"Please don't tell me you're getting turned on by this. It's creepy. We're her nemeses; we're supposed to destroy her, not perv on her. It's like, in our job description."

Andrew didn't pull his eyes away. On the screen, Spike slammed Buffy against the door of his crypt.

In the silence of the lair, Jonathan could just barely hear her growling out, "harder!"

"Um, I think she might kind of being doing our job for us…" Andrew squinted and leaned forward slightly.

"Dude just-" Jonathan bent around Andrew and made a swipe at the power button on the monitor "-turn it off."

Andrew elbowed him. "No! You're the one who said we could learn her weaknesses like this!"

"I meant her fighting weaknesses! I'm pretty sure she doesn't fight like this!"

Andrew turned around with a slightly awed expression. "What if she did?"

Jonathon's mind suddenly drifted away buoyed up by fantasies he'd been entertaining since high school. He sank down in the chair next to Andrew, watching as the miniaturized Spike suddenly pulled away and Buffy mewled. He grabbed her thighs and hoisted her farther up the wall, whispering too low to be heard and burying his face between her thighs. Buffy let out a strangled noise and curled her fingers into his hair.

They stared, transfixed, at the computer until she suddenly let loose a string of profanity that would make even Warren blush, and Spike started growling in a decidedly inhuman, if muffled, way.

Andrew pushed back from the desk. "On second thought," he began in a voice even higher pitched than normal, "even our enemies deserve some privacy."

Jonathan nodded and quickly switched off the monitor.