B u f f y / F a i t h / S p i k e . F a n f i c t i o n . b y .K J .D r a f t


TITLE: Loan Out

AUTHOR: KJ (Katherine Jay) Draft

PAIRING: Spike / Buffy / Faith (awww yeahhhh)


TIMELINE / SUMMARY: Episode 7.18, "Dirty Girls." While chatting in the basement, Faith and Spike decide Buffy should take the afternoon off. Breaks canon in order to best provide you with a threesome.

Characters refer to events that occurred in my previous fics FADED EYELINER (Buffy/Faith, Season 3) and AN EMPTY PLACE (Spike/Buffy, Post "Get it Done") if you'd care to read those first.

WARNING / LURE: This fic contains fem slash. But with Spike. (Lucky blood sucking fiend.) It's a ménage a trois. (With Spike.)

DISTRIBUTION: Currently only archived at my site, which is constructed and updated for me by the extraordinary Nautibitz. (With Spike.)

DISCLAIMER: Nobody and nothing belong to me. Drew Goddard wrote the first three lines of dialogue appearing here, as well as Buffy's first line.

THANK YOU: I'm in Love with Nautibitz. She doesn't know that I exist. (Well, she does, but that rhymed. And when I capitalized "love", it got reeeeallll dirty so I had to use that.) Thanks also to Circe_Tigana, who made some excellent suggestions about writing in regards to AN EMPTY PLACE. I tried to apply them here. I must also thank my sugar baby lover boy for unwittingly providing research. And the pearl necklace he gave me for my birthday. I mean, I mean, diamond necklace. Mmm... Unwitting...

FEEDBACK: is quietly yearned for at: [email protected]




"Should've known it wasn't Blondie behind the wheel. She'd never throw down like that."

"Oh, you have been away."

"Don't even tell me Little Miss Tightly Wound's been getting her Naughty on?!"

"You act like you'd know it if you saw it," Spike scoffs, enjoying another leisurely drag off his cigarette.

"Saw it way before you did."

Spike's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs violently.

Faith waits for him to compose himself. Exhales a lengthy, contented trail of smoke, as though she's been holding in the afterglow from that particular tryst for years, and only now allowing the pleasure of it to exit her lungs.

"Maybe we are on the same side," he murmurs agreeably, voice thick and honeyed with arousal. "You on top for that little soiree, as well?"

Faith leans closer. Pokes his firm, bare chest with her finger to accent each word: "Wouldn't you like to know."

He seizes her hand inside his, clenching tightly. More. Than. Anything. But --

"Buffy's had it rough since -- " He stops. Backtracks. "Well. We've all had it rough, haven't we?"

"You goin' somewhere with this?"

"I'd just as soon you not play around with her." He pointedly casts her hand back.

"Ohhh, I get it." Big Bad's Totally Kitten Whipped. How's she always *do* that? Slight smirk: "You mean not play around with you. Behind her back."

"Well, yeah."

"How 'bout we play around in front?" Faith immediately suggests. "That fair?"

Spike's brow creases in agitated confusion.

Faith sighs. "You said it yourself. She's having a rough go, needs to... what? Work the tension off? Unwind? I'm so very with you on that."

"I don’t..."

"Bet we could help her. Two-For-One Special, whaddaya say?"

The patter of footsteps invades their conversation. Buffy appears, clad in a denim jacket similar to Faith's, though of different make and model. Surveys the scene, non-plussed.

"It's nice to see you two getting along so well," she remarks, fairly dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm thinkin' the three of us could get along real well," Faith answers, stretching suggestively.

Buffy's mouth drops open. She promptly shuts it, then peers at them in turn, trying to figure out what they've already revealed to one another.

"Sharing stories?" she asks mildly.

"Tell me, Buffy," Spike counters slowly, words simmering with jealousy, "Which one of us has the better yarn?"

Buffy's gut clenches. He knows.

He *knows.*

Rather than panic, Buffy forces herself to keep things vague. Don't fuel the fire if you're not sure there is one. Observes their matching cigarettes with annoyance. 'Course, where there's smoke...

She saunters forward, defying Spike with her gaze. "Who do you think has the better stories?"

"That'd be me, natch," Faith crows.

Buffy and Spike snap their faces toward her in unison.

"C'mon, it's obvious. She'd already been with a vamp. Never been with a girl."

Buffy looks away.

"Am I right?" Faith presses.

Spike snaps his face back to Buffy.

"That's right," Buffy replies evenly, lifting her eyes 'til they reflect Faith's.

Faith grins and settles deeper into the cot. "I knew it!"

"At least Spike and I did things in public," Buffy adds snidely, then almost regrets it when she sees Faith wince.

"But we never went public, did we, Pet?" Spike reminds her quietly, still clutching a few tender, bitter feelings to his chest like a bruised apple he can't quite part with.

"Guess that makes us Even-Steven," Faith tells Spike with a shrug.

"Nowhere close," Spike growls, chucking his cig to the floor and forcibly hauling Buffy onto his sheet covered lap. He kisses her fiercely, dragging his fingers through her hair and wringing a startled cry from her throat.

He can't help enjoying the fact that, for the very first time, they have a witness to their feelings; proof; back up. No more smoke and mirrors. Someone else sees it, it has to be true.

Faith watches the Lust Brigade with amusement, then hops off the cot and circles toward her shared prey. Spike works his hungry mouth along Buffy's neck while she moans and arches to grant him greater access.

"Two's company, but three's a party, B. Didn't you know?" Faith whispers hotly in Buffy's ear, then plunges her tongue inside. Swirls it once, warm and wet.

A jolt of wanton lust shoots down Buffy's spine.

She jerks away from both tormentors. Dithers nervously, "Whoa, okay, so not what I came down here for."

"Why the hell not?" Faith murmurs, dipping her face and kissing Buffy again, this time on the lips.

Spike simultaneously strokes her inner thigh in a circular pattern, steadily progressing upwards. Buffy closes her eyes and clutches his hand reflexively.

Spike feels the need to rearrange his sheet.

Faith continues to espouse her cause: "Got privacy, darkness and cuffs." She rattles the chains affectionately. "What more could you ask for in a love shack?"

"Spike, what's going on?" Buffy demands, trying to ignore the residual feel of Faith's bottom lip between hers, polished and gleaming, soft and full...

"Seeing as we're currently playing the waiting game and you've been mighty tense lately, we figured a spot of relaxation was in order --"

"And you really think Menage-ing it is Of The Wise? After we just -- you know..." she trails off.

"Got back together?" He supplies dryly.

Buffy nods, shifting so her back's to Faith. Tries to construct some semblance of privacy.

"Won't you get jealous?" she hisses.

"Won't you?!" he retorts loudly.

Faith's eyes twinkle. "Live action soap opera," she remarks under her breath. "I sure did miss my Stories."

"We don't have time for this," Buffy insists. "Everyone's upstairs. The Potentials need more training, and, and, and --" she jerks her chin toward Faith, "-- this seriously can only end badly --"

Spike takes note of Buffy's strained voice. Me thinks she doth protest too much.

"Hey, whatever. I'm no home wrecker," Faith declares. "I mean, unless you mean literally. You two can't handle the sitch? That's cool. But this could be it, any moment now. Think about that. May as well grab a piece of the fun while there's still fun to be had, ya know?"

Spike points at Faith. "She makes a bloody good argument -- "

"Why so hard up, Faith? No 'Cell Block Tango' in jail?" Buffy quips.

"No one like you, B," she answers, faux sickly sweet. Turns to Spike and slips him a lingering, appreciative once-over. "And definitely no one like you."

He grins.

Watching them, Buffy feels the familiar Faith Brand Competitiveness And Doubt creep into her system and start to asphyxiate her. Not now. Not him.

"I'll get jealous," she admits to Spike seriously; softly. His heart melts, spreading through his veins like molasses.

"Forget it, Faith," he states. "Nice idea, but..."

"Only if I'm in control," Buffy blurts out. "I want to be in control."

Spike and Faith lock eyes for a split second then spring into action.

"Ohhhh no, Pet, I think that's exactly what you don't want," Spike purrs, capturing Buffy's wrist and locking it inside the heavy cuff behind her.

"What --"

Faith grabs Buffy's other arm, stretching her. Yanks her hand up and back. Click.

"Did you hear the part about control?" Buffy objects, tugging at her chains. "It was pretty much the theme of my last sentence."

"You're still in control," Spike soothes, cupping her face. "Promise." He kisses her, sucking eagerly on her mouth then opening it with his tongue. She responds with mutual ardor, straining against the shackles.

"Yeah, this oughtta be perfect for you: Guilt-free kinks. Lie back and enjoy," Faith says, then splays her hands on Spike's chest and shoves him. Ladies first. Takes over where he left off.

"Hey -- !" Spike's protest dies on his lips when he hears Buffy whimper, "Mmm..."

S'pose I could watch. For a bit.

Faith draws Buffy's shirt over her head, pinning the material behind her neck and incapacitating her arms even further.

Returns to the kissing: deep and ruthless. Each time Faith withdraws fractionally to breathe, gossamer webs of dew form bridges between their mouths. They melt into one, release each other and rejoin, over and over, until Buffy starts to thrash with frustration and desire.

Spike can't tear his eyes away.

His erection bobs beneath the sheet, smearing the cotton with pre-come, and the viscous fluid reminds him of the glossy texture coating both Slayers' lips. The mere possibility of being sucked off by those mouths is intolerable. He squeezes the base of his cock, wrapping the covers around it, then shuts his eyes to block out the image of Slayer on Slayer.

Don't think of them don't think of them don't think of them... Don't think of Buffy, trussed up and vulnerable, gettin' shagged by a *bird* and -- Dammit!

With a grunt, he jerks the sheet away. Risks a fresh peek at the girls, just in time to see Faith shove Buffy's bra up and start sucking on her tits.

The muted wails of rapture being forced from Buffy's tender throat, not to mention the image of Faith's pink tongue circling and teasing, propels his agony to the edge...

"Your vamp's 'bout to pop," Faith gasps between nibbles. "Ain't that right, Spike?"

"Ohhhh, fuck," he moans helplessly.

"We're gettin' there," Faith assures him, unzipping Buffy's pants and pulling them down her legs.

Buffy looks over at Spike, astonished by the effect they're having on him: His hands flex and claw at the rumpled sheets on either side of his legs as he attempts to hold back his orgasm through sheer force of will. Though his hips push and buck rhythmically, his cock seems somehow detached from the rest of his trembling body; it lurches recklessly up and down, swaying unpredictably. God, he's not even touching himself!

Faith's plundering fingers interrupt her train of thought. They shove past her damp panties to slip inside her.

"Uhh!" Buffy cries, partly in earnest and partly for Spike's benefit.

"Buffy -- !" he howls back, as if reaching for her across a blackened abyss.

She secures his gaze and licks her lips.

"God..." he laments. Thank you, God.

Faith yanks Buffy's underwear to her ankles, where it joins her bunched jeans and boots, then drives three fingers inside and curls them forward to thump her G-spot. Buffy's face screws up from the effort not to shriek.

Without warning, Faith withdraws her hand and offers the sticky, aromatic treat to Spike. Buffy bemoans the abrupt loss but derives satisfaction from his response: He vamps out, startling Faith. Laps desperately at her fingers, sucking and moaning blissfully, as though her skin's slathered in the blood of angels.

Faith's discomfited by his altered shape in such intimate proximity, as well as his reaction to Buffy's flavor. Freakin' turned him into an animal. Without metaphor. Color me jealous. For revenge, she wraps her nimble, wet fingers around his cock and tugs upward precisely once.

Spike comes, sobbing with ecstasy and relief. His features soften back to human as he vigorously rides it out. Buffy jerks her hips in tandem with his thrusts, while Faith leans down to taste his orgasm.

"Mmm," she sighs, rising and smacking her lips. "Though I have to say, it's not exactly warm champagne."

They chuckle.

Buffy frowns. "What? What does that mean? What's funny?"

Spike runs a hand through his hair and slumps against the wall.

"Inside joke," Faith mutters.

"You've known each other five minutes, how can you have an inside joke? And also...?!" She humps the air violently. What about me??

"What'cha gonna do about it, Slayer?" Spike teases, titillated by her impatience. He crawls up her body. "Hmm? At our mercy, you are."

He guides his slippery, half-hard dick inside her. Swivels his groin a few times to make it grow rigid again, then drives leisurely in and out, grasping her sides possessively. Buffy smiles and expels a sigh. That's more like it.

Faith gapes at his stiff, pumping cock as it appears and disappears, each time fuller and stronger than before. Go go gadget penis! "He a super vamp, or are they all like that? And how come you never told me, B?"

"Little... uhh! -- busy, Faith," Buffy groans. "Harder," she tells Spike impishly. "Faster."

"Harder, faster", Faith mimics, rolling her eyes. Cliché, much? Not that Spike seems to mind...

Buffy dexterously raises her legs so Spike can duck between them.

Faith shucks off her clothing and slithers between Spike's thighs like she's rolling under the hood of a car. Sucks his balls into her mouth and fellates the base of his thrusting cock with the tip of her tongue. He jolts in surprise and strangles back a moan, then clenches his ass and speeds up. Reaches down with one hand to fondle Faith's full breasts.

His dick's cream-slickened from Buffy's heady arousal, but Faith doesn't mind the taste. Rather, it allows her to fall back in time, always a welcome trip.

Watching Spike and Buffy's wet lips meet above her, Faith fights off another stab of perplexing envy. Who you jealous of, anyways? Buffy, 'cause Spike's all in love with her? Or Spike, 'cause he gets to nail Buffy whenever he likes?

"Faith, your tongue -- please -- your tongue," Buffy cries softly, and having been summoned, Faith immediately tosses aside any misgivings...

(" 'Me, me, me'," Spike mocks affectionately...)

... to push her neck further back, underneath Buffy now, and glide her tongue along the little section between pussy and ass, ever closer to her unoccupied hole --

Buffy gasps. "Not there! Tongue bad -- "

Faith pauses to call up, "Don't tell me I'm claiming virgin territory?"

"Hardly," Spike snickers.

"But..." Buffy protests feebly, just before her lips are smothered by Spike's.

Upon the first caress of Faith's tongue, she tenses, inadvertently squeezing the hell out of Spike. He grunts in painful pleasure and surges to the hilt.

"Oh, God!" Buffy shouts.

After prepping her thoroughly, Faith worms her middle finger inside, screwing in lazy circles. Buffy jerks and quivers, trying to relax her muscles.

"I'm so close," she whimpers, neck twisting to and fro, "So close -- "

"Spike, I can feel you through it," Faith breathes in amazement, and this sets Buffy off.

"Don't stop," she pleads hoarsely to neither in particular; to both. "Don't -- stop -- oh God, oh fuck!" Desperate for release from the stuffed and over stimulated sensation, Buffy moves furiously against them both.

Spike jerks and rubs his pubic bone along her clit in tiny, focused circles.

"Oh!" she yelps at the onset of a sudden, flickering orgasm. It darts to her feet then surges up and outward, flooding her stomach and chest with shivering heat. Time slows. Each muscle in her body tenses then relaxes.

To prevent her knees from buckling, Spike bolsters her in his embrace and showers her with kisses.

"All right, Slayer?" he checks a minute later.

"Mmmn," Buffy babbles, eyes glazed and dreamy.

"Sure," Faith overlaps, still on her back.

"He meant me," Buffy insists.

Spike waggles his eyebrows. "Did I?"

"Shut up." Buffy nips at his lip.

"One more," he tells Faith. "Let's give her one more."

"Oh, God," Buffy groans nervously.

"Nah, let's give her a show," Faith suggests. Kick this up a notch.

Curious, Spike pulls out of Buffy and offers his hand to Faith. She takes it, rising partially to her knees, then slips her mouth over his wet cock. He shudders and closes his eyes involuntarily.

Buffy's eyes narrow as she studies her once and future rival voraciously blowing her boyfriend.

"Wait, hold up," she meows.

Spike smoothly lifts Faith's head.

"We should, um, establish some rules," Spike prompts her dutifully.

Faith sighs. "Fine, what're the rules?"

Immediate: "Whatever Buffy wants them to be."

"Bullshit --"

"It's for her, innit? Thought that was the bloody plan."

"I knew there was a plan! A premeditated, planned... plan -- !" Buffy sputters.

Faith ignores them for a moment while casually wiping her fingers on Spike's sheet.


"Think your blankie's well past the point of laundry day."

He's insulted. Sniffs. There is a nice build up of scents developing. Maybe he'll keep it. Sweat, spunk, Slayer come...

"No kissing," Buffy announces as her First Rule.

"Christ, B, I'm not his prostitute."

"You are if I say you are."

The hard, matter of factness of Buffy's voice nearly stops Faith from responding. (Nearly, but not quite.) "Then it's pointless!"

"Fine," Buffy huffs. Thinks of her next rule. Looks between them, landing on Spike. "You can only say my name."

He grins at her possessiveness, then glances sideways to gauge Faith's reaction.

"Figure I'm used to it, that it?" Faith grits out.

"Used to it?" Spike puzzles. Faith notes his interest and files it away.

"Not Spike. You, Faith. You have to say my name."

"Kink-ay," Faith smirks.

"Anything else, it's over."

"How you gonna stop us?" she retorts.

"Spike'll stop."

Spike's not entirely sure he'll stop, but --

"Fine, rules are set." Faith grabs Spike's shoulders, fingers digging in. He mounts her and lifts her thighs in his hands, positioning himself at her soft, inviting entrance. Wonders what she'll feel like, then decides to stop dilly-dallying and find out. Pushes cautiously inside. His eyes roll back. Like a deep, clenched fist...

"Mmm, Buffy," Faith groans obnoxiously. "Buffy! Buffy! Buffy!"

"Knock it off," Buffy snaps, trying not to think about Spike's visible pleasure.

"You said I couldn't say anything else!"

"I meant name-wise, moron."

"Girls -- done -- snitting -- ?" Spike gruffs out, beginning to pump. The resistance from Faith's slick flesh makes the activity even more delectably forbidden. Faith curls her ankles around his lower back, rising to help him.

"Sorry I'm so tight," she apologizes, entirely for Buffy's fretful ears. "Been a long while."

Buffy grimaces.

"It'll do," Spike teases, looking into Faith's large brown eyes. He presses his lips gently across hers to coax and comfort her.

But Faith wants nothing to do with gentle. Grabs his butt and shoves him all the way in, punctuating the movement with a minor, stifled grunt of pain.

Spike stares wildly up at Buffy. Thinks of Anya -- and that same hopeless, free floating, out of body sensation washes over him. He tries to quell his rising panic. Buffy's with me now, it's different; she's here, she *loves* me...

So what the *hell* are we doing?!

I love you,
Buffy mouths, setting him slightly at ease.

He closes his eyes, changes angles, and lets his fingers trail along Faith's butt, across her thighs, then down to the place their bodies join. I love you, too, he thinks urgently. Love you, Buffy, love you --

"Buffy," Faith whispers, her breathing ragged, as Spike lightly strokes her clit. Buffy feels a certain, slinky thrill caress her spine at the sound of Faith's voice, raw and husky, all for me. Him. Us.

"Bite his jaw," Buffy instructs the other girl.

"I don't need coaching," Faith slings back, but never the less follows the order. True to form, Spike moans and quickens his movements, nearly at the point of no return already. Two Slayers, is his primary, pride-laced thought. God, I'm good!

Hurry up!
Buffy pouts to herself. Come on come on come on!

Spike pins one of Faith's wrists back and grinds her into the cot.

"Mmm..." she moans, clawing at his back, making his muscles flex. Revels in the smoothness of his pale skin. Punk's got it goin' on, that's for damn sure...

Determined to finish her off quickly, Spike scoops Faith up and rams her flat against the wall, then proceeds to fuck her senseless. She's about to scream his name, both from shock and gratification, but catches herself just in time.

"Bu -- " she gasps, climaxing in a rough, messy deluge of liquid heat. "Buffy!"

Spike plunges inside her a few more times, sloppy and sporadic, which forces her onto higher, wider plains of ecstasy, then joins her in climax, shuddering and releasing. Rests his forehead on her shoulder while he empties out a stilted groan.

Buffy struggles in her chains, wishing she could pry him off her, or at the very least, get one hand free, get some friction, get someone to rub her --

Spike senses her anxiety. Pulls out of Faith and turns to his girl, immediately burying his face between Buffy's legs. He feels strangely guilty; desperate. Needs to make things right. Wants to take everything back, start the day over, just him and Buffy --

You're mine, aren't you, Spike? My Spike... Buffy feels tears well up in her eyes but keeps them secured, tight in the back of her buzzing skull.

He's insatiable. Licks her ravenously; tastes each centimeter of her pliable, flushed skin; dips his tongue inside her.

Faith watches, slightly irked. Why didn't he go down on *me*?

"Let me touch you," Buffy pleads and Spike rises to free her from the shackles. She crumples onto his chest and wraps her arms around him like a child, crushing his ribs with the potency of an enemy.

"Are we going to regret this tomorrow?" he whispers into her soft, messy golden hair.

"Maybe we'll get lucky and there won't be a tomorrow," she answers despondently.

Right. 'Lucky.'

Before he can reply, Buffy crawls over to Faith. "Doin' okay?"

"For post-prison sex, it ranks pretty high," she grins tentatively.

Buffy kisses her mouth, threading her hair and stroking the nape of her neck. Spike scoots to the side, allowing them to fall back onto the cot. Faith wriggles atop Buffy, pressing her hypersensitive clit along Buffy's mound while gliding her hands up to tease and pluck at her nipples.

Spike slips behind Buffy and begins kissing her face, moving downward. Together he and Faith work their tongues and mouths along Buffy's neck, collarbone and breasts, until Buffy can't speak, even to moan or sigh. The alternating tugs on her taut, aching nipples tap directly into the center of her body, making her pussy throb with yearning. Unconsciously she rotates her hips, arching off the cot and squeezing her butt. Faith looks at Spike. He nods.

Faith glides her tongue straight down the middle of Buffy's body, then careens off to the right thigh, denying Buffy the contact she so craves.

"Please, you guys, please," Buffy implores, voice hitching.

Faith chuckles a little and moves to the left thigh, licking and teasing with her tongue.

"Spike, make her do it... please..."

Spike kisses Buffy from his above and upside down angle, numbing her lips with the pressure. They seem altogether new and unkissed from this position, and he wants to turn them familiar. He ravishes her exhaustively, until she thinks she might faint. That's when Faith finally starts in earnest, dipping one slim finger barely inside Buffy's slick entry while weaving and circling her tongue around her small, engorged clit.

"Mmm, uhh," Buffy cries out. Spike nips at her breasts, side to side, closing his teeth lightly around her tight peaks.

She's not sure how long it lasts, or how many time she comes. She only know it feels endless; relentless... pumping finger, plucking teeth, knotted, twisting orgasms...

When at last it stops, Buffy's chest heaves and her skin tingles all over. She covers her face with one arm.

"We do right by you, Pet?" Spike asks. "Feel rested?"

She smiles, loopy. "Yeah... Did you like watching us?" she whispers back.

Slow, sly grin. "You know I did."

"It was kinda hot?"

"*Very* hot," he assures her.

She sits up. "I want to take a nap with you," Buffy murmurs in his ear. He nods against her, cheek to cheek.

"I love you," he swears into her neck.

She pulls back. Traces his scarred eyebrow with a delicate fingertip. "I love you, too."

They nuzzle noses, then kiss deeply.

"So. Maybe we'll... do it again sometime," Faith remarks, pulling her clothes on.

Buffy and Spike separate, but don't take their eyes off each other.

"Maybe," Buffy giggles.

Faith bristles.

"Hey." She grabs Spike's arm. "I *know* you need a cigarette after that."

Spike glances at Buffy.

"Go 'head," she shrugs. "I'll just be here, passing out."

Spike wraps the sheet around his waist and follows Faith to the bottom stair. Lights both their cigarettes, hands Faith one, then reclines contently. He's still weak limbed and dizzy from their frenzied encounter.

"What's your kink, then?" Faith asks conversationally.


"Well, I've got my friend who's all about the bullwhip and school-girl get up... What's yours?"

Isn't it obvious? "Buffy."

"Okay, but what's hers?"

"... Me."

Faith chuckles. Shoots a stream of smoke out the corner of her mouth. "Riiiiight."

"Vampires in general, then."

"Eh. Wrong again."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't supposed you'd care to enlighten me, all knowing one?"

Faith deliberately evades the question. Nods toward Buffy's back, which has curled away from them into a sleepy ball. "Looks good in chains, doesn't she? But then, she always did."

"Bloody right -- Wait. When did you put her in chains before?"

"Well technically it was Angel -- "

"Angel. Angel put her in chains?"


"With you there?"


Hold on. "Three of you...?"

"What, you never heard about that?"

Spike's eye twitches, and Faith considers explaining: No worries, it was just a trick, they were fuckin' with me. And not in the good way.

But somehow, a new, better truth presents itself, and her voice works to accommodate it.

"Yeah, B pulled the same thing then, her whole, 'Oh, I'll get jealous,' blah blah blah. Frankly, I think she needs a new routine."

Spike knows he shouldn't believe her; shakes his head slightly, as if to sweep the memories up into less painful piles.

"But what do you care, right?" Faith continues. "It's in the past. And you two are all in love 'n' shit. It's just funny is all."

"What, pray tell, is 'funny'?"

"Just how it always happens. Angel, Riley, you. I'm three for three."

"Mm, you're right, that's bloody hysterical," he mutters, tossing his cig to the floor.

"So there's your answer."

He sighs. "My answer to what?"

"Her kink, Spike?"

He leans in, despite himself. "Yeah?"

"Sharing her boyfriends with me." Spiteful grin: "You're the latest loan out."

Her smile widens as Spike's disappears.




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