A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer, rating, and notes.

Title: Stone Temple Pilots, baby. 'I know you want what's on my mind…'

*****

There was definitely a chill in the air. Of the four, Michael was the worst. He kept glaring at Spike, who responded with a bored yawn every time. He looked kinda funny in Buffy's eyes, yawning every thirty seconds or so.

"Alright, mate," Spike said after a few moments, "Let's get this out into the open now, 'efore I end up not 'earing the Slayer's next peroxide joke."

Michael continued staring at the vampire, his hatred blatant. His right hand continued to clench and unclench slowly, occasionally cracking his knuckles. Faith put a restraining, or comforting, hand on his arm.

Sighing again, Spike leaned forward and spoke calmly and evenly. "I did not kill your father. Matter of fact, he damn near ended my un-life."

Michael growled slightly and tensed, causing Faith to throw her other hand behind his back and firmly on his far shoulder. Apparently, she wasn't taking any chances with a fight in the house. Buffy, rolling her eyes, motioned for Spike to continue, and quickly.

"Met 'im in Boston years ago. 'is sword, it hurt, a lot. He held back the killing blow."

"Why the hell would he do that?" Michael said through clenched teeth.

"He stopped suddenly and smiled," Spike said. "Stood over me, tall an' imposing. Said something that confused the bloody 'ell outta me."

Knowing his father, and how he was prone to feel things, and act on them, Michael relaxed just a fraction.

"Told me I'd always be 'love's bitch'."

Michael burst out laughing for a moment, all anger at the Brit fading quickly. It did sound just like his old man. Then, just as suddenly, he quieted and looked at the blonde slayer, then back at the vampire.

"Guess it sorta makes sense," Spike muttered. "Can we drink now?"

There was a knock at the door, and Buffy rose to get it as the two boys went to the kitchen for the alcohol. Apparently, Spike's story was enough for Michael.

"Xander?" Buffy said cautiously, "what's going on?"

"Spike told me to grab Re… Willow, some beer and some tequila," the dark haired man said, an impish grin on his face. "He said drunkenness would be goodness, and that Faith was here."

Buffy merely rolled her eyes before letting him past. Willow grinned impishly and walked in herself. The witch pulled Buffy close for a moment, whispering into her ear.

"Relax," her whispered voice faintly tickled her ear. "This might just be fun."

"But since when did Xander start listening to Spike," the slayer whispered back. "I thought he was president of the 'I-hate-the-Undead' club?"

"I think it's a guy thing," the witch said, no longer whispering. "After all, who can turn down a night of drinks among mostly friends?"

* * * * *

"Name of the game, my poor friends, is asshole!" Xander said enthusiastically, shuffling the cards. "Who doesn't know how to play?"

Spike and Michael chuckled and lifted their personal bottles, each a close mirror to the other. Faith chuckled and followed from her own bottle, while Buffy sipped her less potent mixed drink. Since no one said anything, Xander began dealing the cards out quickly, with a practiced ease that slightly surprised Buffy.

"This'll be a free round, then the real game can begin." Xander said. To his right was Michael, followed by Faith. Spike separated the two slayers, with Willow completing the circle on Xander's right. "Two times president makes a rule, twos clear, fours social, and asshole keeps it clean."

"Guess you're the acting for the first round," Michael said as he checked his cards.

"Sure thing, Mr. Black," Xander said happily, referring to the other man's clothing. "But you'll be under if you stick to the hard stuff."

"Keep telling yourself that, kid," Michael said, the amusement in his voice clear. "I'm not going to hold your head above the porcelain goddess tonight."

The first hand was started quickly, and ended with a very annoyed Xander. Michael had gone out first, followed by Spike, Buffy, Willow, and Faith just before him. Everyone shifted seats and Michael's request, 'just to make it easier to see who can tell who to drink' was his reason. Xander shuffled and dealt quickly.

Michael placed a single card face down on the table, and then looked to Xander. "Best card you have, Asshole."

Grumbling, Xander relinquished the only two he had. Grumbling to himself, he grimaced when he heard Michael's voice next.

"Lift 'em up," he said, his voice amusement itself. "I'd like to give a meaningful toast, but I've never been much for words. To new allies, I suppose."

Glass touched glass, and everyone began to drink in earnest.

* * * * *

An hour later, and three remained in the game, but only by a hair. The redhead, Willow, was passed out beside him, her left arm touching the floor. Xander was by her feet, snoring softly. Buffy, still awake, had long ago lost the ability to focus on the cards. Instead, she absently stroked Spike's leg. Michael glanced at the vampire, who had matched him drink for drink, shot for shot. Long gone was the beer and whiskey. All that remained was that god-awful tequila…

They had delved into a simple game of blackjack. It was easier to play with only three people, and didn't require much sobriety. And Spike won. Again.

"Bottoms up, mates," he said, cocky grin firmly, if drunkenly, in place. Sighing, Michael reached for the saltshaker, only to have Faith grab it with a wicked grin.

"Ladies first," she said, raising the cut of lime, rind first, to his mouth. He clenched it between his teeth, and nearly swallowed it whole when she licked his throat and poured a bit of salt on it. The shot glace rested precariously on his groin.

"Going down," she murmured, licking the salt off his throat. Slowly, she fumbled for the shot with her teeth, rubbing more than necessary. She threw her head back, and then dropped the shot glass as she leaned in for the lime. Her tongue danced on his lips for a moment before she claimed the lime and bit.

"Spike," Buffy whispered, too loud in her drunken state, "Let's go upstairs."

"Right, luv," he said, "Unless you wanna see the show."

"I'm not into showing off," she slurred slightly.

"But you're not the one -" swallowing his suddenly thick tongue, he leapt to his feet, grabbed Buffy, and ran upstairs. Thinking wasn't seen as one of Spike's strong points, but it was hard to miss the slayer's very blunt hint.

"You scared them away," Michael murmured as he stood. Faith leaned against him, swaying slightly. "Guess we've got the kitchen, or the basement."

"Basement," Faith said, her voice wicked as she ran her nails lightly over his thighs. Despite his jeans, her nails sent shivers up his spine. "Just hope we don't bring the house down around us."

* * * * *

Both Willow and Xander sat up and stretched when the second couple left the room. They both grinned like children and gave each other a high five.

"Told you it would be easy," Willow said as the first thumps came from upstairs. "Spike was right about Faith, and, well…"

"S'okay," Xander said, shrugging. "I'm kinda used to Fangless and her doing, well, things." Even as the last words came from his mouth, Faith's enthusiastic cries came from the basement, surprisingly matched by Buffy's from above. "And before you ask, she was that loud. Faith," he amended at Willow's raised eyebrow, his blush reaching the roots of his hair.

They sat in silence for a moment, two old friends basking in a successful mission, before Xander stood and stretched. He didn't notice Willow's thoughtful look, or the tongue that peeked out from between her lips.

"C'mon, I'll walk you home," he said tiredly.

"We could always stay here," Willow said slowly. "Safer," she added after a moment.

"Wills," Xander said, "I'm a guy. Sounds like low, or perhaps, mid-grade porn. Don't feel like walking around with Captain Happy at attention all night."

The look of surprise on his face was priceless as Willow grabbed his crotch, just hard enough to feel good. He looked down at his best friend and saw the hunger in her eyes as she pulled him onto the couch.

"I'm drunk, and horny," she said just before she kissed him. "And who said I have to play for just one team."

About twenty minutes later, when the thumping and shouting were finished, three very different comments were made, and the responses varied just as much. Starting from the highest point:

"We didn't break stuff this time," said the pouting slayer.

"'cept maybe my back," the former Big Bad said, groaning slightly.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"I wonder if there's a spell to give you tits," the wiccan murmured softly, jokingly.

"Don't you think about that!" the sound of an ass being smacked, a moment of pause, then a low groan. "That's okay to think about…"

"This almost feels…"

"Isn't an almost about it, Faith."

"Thank you."