I didn't know how else to finish this story, so sorry if it disappoints. I tried to stay true to Fifth Season.
By the way, I just had to quote you, Red Wulf, because what you said in your review is so true.
Sometime between "Intervention" and "Tough Love"
Of course he means dessert, she reminded herself, otherwise he would have asked for a slap and tickle or a rough and tumble.
Sure enough, Spike sauntered over to the fridge again and produced from it a bowl of sliced strawberries and a pot of whipped cream. He scooped the strawberries into a tall glass and followed them with the whipped cream, then repeated the process. Soon the glass was filled with alternating layers of red and white. Spike smiled to himself. Some said that strawberries and cream were an aphrodisiac.
He served her the glass with a spoon and watched her scoop its contents into her mouth. When she was done, she scraped the bottom of the glass and licked the spoon, then she put the spoon in the glass and put the glass on the floor.
Buffy unwound her limbs and rose from the cushions on the floor. She stretched her arms and legs and said, "Dinner's over," then grabbed her jacket from where Spike had laid it, and pulled it on.
Quick as a shot, Spike pounced on her, pressing her against the nearest wall. His palms were flat against the wall, an arm on either side of Buffy, trapping her in. "Leaving so soon? Afraid of what you might let loose if you don't? I noticed the way you undressed me with your eyes earlier," he told her, his face leering so close to hers that she could see the taste-buds on his tongue.
"Oh, real smooth, Valentino," remarked Eric, sarcastically, at what he saw in the crystal ball.
"What is he doing? Did he not listen to a word we said?" wondered Hugh. "Pinning her to the wall like a Neanderthal is not what we meant by romance."
The demon duo exchanged a consolatory hug. "We tried."
"Here's what I'll let loose," said Buffy, and slammed her knee into Spike's groin.
While Spike doubled up, Buffy lifted up her jeans leg and reached into her boot with one graceful movement, pulling out Mr. Pointy. She rammed Spike's shoulder with the heel of her boot and sent him sprawling onto the floor. Straddling him, she lifted her stake dangerously above his chest.
Spike chuckled, having recovered with a vampire's alacrity. "Now you're gettin' into it!" he laughed, savoring the warm press of her buttocks and thighs against his body. He enjoyed this game they played. If she really wanted to kill him, she would've done it a long time ago, and he knew it.
Buffy rose, digging her knee into Spike's chest in the process, which he also enjoyed. She strode quickly out of the crypt and slammed the door behind her. Spike sprung to his feet. Tearing the door open, he followed her out into the graveyard. "I'll walk you home!" he called out, as though it wasn't too late to act the perfect gentleman.
Buffy advanced towards the cemetery gates. The black SUV was still there. Ignoring Spike, who had quickly caught up with her, she determined to find out why.
She rocked the vehicle by pushing down on its hood and making it bounce on its suspension. "Anybody in there? Kinda late for visiting hours, don't ya think? There's one way for me to find out if you're in there," she said and raised her elbow towards the driver's side window, ready to bear down and shatter it.
"No, wait!" she heard, faintly from inside. The window slid down slowly and revealed the face of a mauve colored demon with boney growths sticking out of his head and neck. Behind him was a blue demon with dark blue horns in his forehead.
"We come in peace, princess," said Eric. "And you, punkin," he added accusingly to Spike, "was that last move the kind of romance you dazzled your long-term honey with? She must've been a few cherries short of a black-forest cake."
"She wasn't all there in her upper storey," Spike admitted.
"You guys know each other?" queried Buffy.
"Just a couple of ponces who've taken to following me around like lost puppies," said Spike, dismissively.
"It's true. We've been watching honey-buns with eagle eyes," agreed Eric. "But it's a strictly professional relationship."
"We've been giving him a helping, gay hand, girlfriend. Bringing him up to your level," added Hugh.
Buffy had suspected Spike was acting with uncharacteristic civility towards her since arriving at her kitchen earlier, but this was rich. An inquisitive grin appeared on her face. "You hired gay demons to coach you on having me to dinner? Such a Kodak moment, and me without my camera."
She abandoned the SUV and headed home with Spike still on her heels.
After covering several blocks, Buffy trotted up her front porch steps, took her keys out of her jacket pocket and opened the front door to her house. Spike was behind her like a shadow, knowing he had to move fast.
"So that's it? Just scoff the nibblies and you're gone? You at least owe me a goodbye kiss," he fished, expectantly.
Buffy stepped over the threshold as Spike ricocheted off its invisible barrier. The push of it felt slightly elastic to Spike. "C'mon, Buffy," he admonished, pressing his hands up against it. All he wanted tonight was another kiss like the tantalizing one he'd had from her the day Glory had put him through the wringer.
"I think we're even, Steven. What was it you said, again?" asked Buffy. "No strings."
Sod it. Why the hell had he said that, anyway?
He thought of the way he'd caught her staring at him back in his crypt. "I know you've got an itch you can't scratch. Let me in and I'll satisfy the rest of your appetite," he murmured suggestively.
Buffy snapped his head back with a sharp punch in the nose. She didn't lean her shoulder into it, however, because he was still recovering from the wounds Glory had given him. Just as she hadn't forgotten what he'd endured to protect Dawn, she hadn't forgotten what he fundamentally was: a monster that occasionally needed to be put back in his place. Blood spattered against the threshold barrier and back onto Spike, covering his baby-blue sweater with a myriad of red dots. A larger stain dripped down from his nose.
Spike wiped his nose with his sleeve. If Eric was still watching, he was probably having a fit over the state of the sweater.
Buffy remembered the Buffybot. Willow had discovered that it had been programmed with a multitude of positions for satisfying Spikes urges. For a split second she was overcome by a visual of being in the robot's place in one of those positions.
"Over my dead body," she said impassively and shut the door in Spike's face.
He peered through the glass panels in the door. She had her back to him and was moving away upstairs without a backward glance.
"Right. So I'll be seeing you later, then," called out Spike, hopefully, as the crystal ball faded to black and then displayed the logo of the "Savoir-faire Pair".
The End.