Because I adore Zorya, I had to answer her challenge.

>I'm issuing a challenge. 'Cause...I want to. All I ask is that it
>involve (majorly) Buffy and Angel(us)/Spike. Other characters are
>welcome and encouraged, but these are my favorite.
>Oh, and include at least 13 of the following:
>A raging bull
>Peanut butter
>Neon green yarn
>This quote: "Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling
>in love." (I actually believe this was Einstein, anyone who knows
>differently, please feel free to correct me.)
>Bubbles (You know, the little wedding kind.)
>Electric blue fishnet stockings
>A crab
>A bow tie
>"JellyBelly" jelly beans
>A bowl of plastic fruit
>Bunny slippers
>A bet
>Snorkeling equipment
>An afro wig
>A really embarrassing situation for Xander
>Picture of Angel in a tub (ala Mr. Boreanaz)
>Riding crop
> any form
>A tricycle
>Barry Manilow v/s Sid Vicious
>A mechanical horse (y'know...the kind you beg your parents for a
>quarter so you can ride it...uhhh...yah)
>Oh yeah...and smut!


TITLE: Let That Be A Lesson, or, Xander Learns Why One Should Never Drink And Bet



DISCLAIMER: Not mine, though I doubt their owner would want them like this.

SYNOPSIS: Buffy. Angel. Spike. Smoochies. Xander humiliation. In short, most of the good things in life.

DEDICATED: To Zorya, because she's an amazing writer and she asked so very nicely. ;->

NOTE: This is not betaread at all, as I wrote it in one sitting. All the stupid parts are my fault, and not the fault of my miraculous beta reading crew.

"Slayer, what the hell are you eating?"

Guiltily, Buffy looked up from her peanut butter and Jelly Belly jelly bean sandwich. "Ummm...nothing?" she said hopefully, praying that the blonde vampire would let it go.

No such luck.

He grabbed it from her hand and peered at the bread. "Are those MY jelly beans?"

She immediately assumed her most innocent look, but Spike was unmoved. "You're eating my damn candy!"

"I needed a snack after slaying! They were here. And they didn't have your name written on them."

His eyes narrowed.

She smiled lamely, then figured her best bet was to try and coax him out of his bad mood. Buffy tossed the sandwich down, and flung herself into his arms, attacking his mouth with her own. Spike barely smothered a laugh, recognizing her game but not caring as long as the end result involved them naked and writhing together.

Buffy wrapped her arms and legs around Spike's body, pressing herself against the chill of his flesh. Spike did his part by backing them into the wall, his mouth eating down the side of her neck hungrily.

"Uh, uh, uh," a voice from the hallway chided. "No starting without me."

Spike turned his head and glared daggers at Angel, who was lounging in the doorway, muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

Buffy beamed at her mate. "When did you get home?"

Angel smiled back. "Just now. The traffic was horrible. Plus I had to listen to Cordelia bitch about the commute."

"Awww, my poor sweetheart," Buffy crooned, unlacing her hands from behind Spike's neck and reaching out for Angel. "C'mere, let Buffy make it all better."

"What about me and my loss?" Spike demanded, hugging the Slayer's warm, lithe body closer.

"I had a hard day!" Angel said, leaning over to kiss first Buffy then Spike, licking the taste of them from each other's lips.

Buffy looked at both vampires. "Like I can't make you both happy at the same time? Please!" She sounded affronted.

Her menfolk smiled.


Spike carried the Slayer upstairs as Angel followed behind them, ogling Spike's ass the whole time. Spike could feel his sire's eyes on him, and put an extra little wiggle in his step, especially for Angel's viewing pleasure. On the way, the dark haired vampire stripped off his silk shirt and shoes, leaving him barefoot, clad only in a pair of tight fitting leather pants.

As Spike carried Buffy past the dresser, she glanced longingly at a riding crop that was conveniently left out from the last time they had played the fun games that vampires so enjoyed. That time, they had also used a few candles...some incense...and strangely, some bubbles. Oh, and she couldn't forget the potpourri...the things Spike could do with potpourri!

With a flourish, Spike tossed her on the bed, and turned around and grabbed Angel. Angel's arms slid around him, as their mouths clashed violently, snarls building in both of their throats.

Buffy laid back and watched her two lovers ravage each other. "How did I manage to get so lucky?" she mused, spreading her legs slightly to admit one slim hand between her thighs.

Angel broke the kiss, moving down to Spike's neck. The younger man lolled his head back, all but begging for the sharp kiss of fangs. As he licked Spike's flesh, Angel rasped out, "Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love."

Spike snickered. "Aren't we deep tonight."

Angel arched an eyebrow. "Not yet...but I will be." The promise in his tone made both Spike and Buffy shiver with lust.

Since Spike and Angel were busy with each other, Buffy decided to take matters into her own hands. The hand between her thighs began to wallow in the lush moisture she had already produced at the merest sight of Angel and Spike touching each other. Her clit was hard, distended, begging for the touch of a finger...or a tongue. Her fingers danced over her wet flesh, her hips arching up into the pleasure.

A low moan dragged itself out of her throat.

Both Angel and Spike looked at her, writhing on the bed, wantonly getting herself off. Spike pushed Angel towards her.

"Age before beauty, mate."

Angel rolled his eyes, but snagged one last kiss from Spike's lips before he crawled onto the bed. He grabbed Buffy's hand and shoved it out of his way, as he made room for himself between her parted thighs. Buffy's eyes were dark with lust, and she wrapped her legs around Angel's waist as he entered her slowly, making her feel every inch as it slid in.

She whimpered as Spike caught her hand, dragging it to his lips. Carefully, he sucked every bit of moisture from her slender fingers.

"More," she pleaded, her free hand raking down Angel's back. "Deeper, Angel...deeper..." Her breath caught up in the back of her throat as Angel thrust as far as he could, filling her, stretching her to fit him.

Spike bent down to capture her lips...and then the phone rang.

Two snarls and one sigh echoed through the room.

Freeing a hand, Buffy reached over to the nightstand to get it, knocking over a picture of Angel relaxing in the bathtub in the process.

"What?" she barked, trying to concentrate on speaking coherently. Angel shifted a little deeper inside of her, and she gasped slightly.

"Willy? Wait, wait, slow down, I can hardly...WHAT? He's WHAT? Oh my god. Don't let anyone touch him. We'll be down in a few minutes. Yeah. If he gets hurt, know what I'll do to you, don't you? That's a good boy. I'll be there soon." She slammed the phone down, and pushed at Angel's chest. "Get up, baby. We have to leave."

The look both men shot her was comical in its level of patheticism.

"Leave?" Spike echoed dumbly.

"Leave?" Angel whimpered, clutching her hips, "We can't leave."

"We have to. That was Willy. Something's wrong with Xander, and he's at the bar. We have to go get him."

"Let me get this straight," Angel growled. "You want me to stop mid-fuck to go save XANDER? The child who mocks both me and my childe every single day of his misbegotten life?"

"He's my friend."

"He's a bloody wanker," Spike interjected.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah, pretty much...but he's still my friend. Now let's go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back and finish."

With a groan, Angel pulled out of her and sprawled back on the bed, cock jutting up painfully. "I can't fucking believe we have to do this."

His only answer was his pants hitting him in the face.


In the corner of the Willy's bar, two demons were having an argument over what music to play on the jukebox. "Barry Manilow is GOD," one demon shouted, as the other pounded him into the wall.

"Barry Manilow!" the other demon bellowed, "Sid Vicious could kick his ass any day!"

The sexually frustrated trio ignored them as they entered into the bar's back room. Willy was there, wringing his hands at the sight before them. They looked on in horrified awe as Xander wildly rode a mechanical horse, the whole while shouting, "I'm a raging bull!" at the top of his lungs.

Xander was a mess.

He was wearing -- Buffy cringed at the sight -- a pair of electric blue fishnet stockings held up with white lacy garters. Tight white jockey shorts barely covered his groin. Bedraggled bunny slippers were on his feet, stuffed through the metal stirrups of the horse. His chest was bare, except for a scarf that had been knitted with neon green yarn. A matching neon green bowtie was wrapped around his neck. And oddly enough, on his back, he wore a pair of wispy fairy wings.

If such a thing was possible, his head looked worse than that.

Covering his dark hair, he had on a frizzy afro wig, upon which was perched a bowl of fake fruit, a la Carmen Miranda. He had sparkly seashell windchimes dangling from his ears, and snorkeling goggles covering his eyes.

"Is that a crab tattooed on his arse?" Spike asked, peering at the boy.

Buffy shuddered, then looked for Willy. "How did you let this happen," she demanded, appalled that the bartender had allowed her friend to humiliate himself this way.

Willy threw up his hands. "It wasn't my fault, Slayer. A bunch of guys came in for drinks, Xander was one of them. They had a bet going, to see who could drink the most."

"You're saying this was the result of a bet?" Buffy hissed, advancing on the little man.

"Y-y-yeah. Young guys, egos, drinking, betting...and then utter and complete humiliation."

Angel was grinning broadly.

Buffy noticed, and elbowed him. "Angel! Stop grinning like a jackass, and get him off of that."

"I'm taking a mental picture of this, so that I can remember and taunt him about it for the rest of his natural life." Angel was fairly cackling with glee.

"Why settle for a mental picture?" Spike asked, pulling out a small camera from his trench coat and snapping several pictures of the inebriated Slayerette.

The flash dazed Xander, and he fell off of the horse with a loud thud.

Everyone in the room winced.

"Ow," Willy said. "That had to hurt."

Buffy carefully stepped forward and dragged Xander to his feet. "Xand, you okay?"

"Buffy? Buffster? The Great Bufferini? That you?"

She heaved a sigh. "Yeah, Xand, it's me."

"Wanna party?"

"No, I think you've partied enough for the night, don't you?"

"Nah! You can't never party too much." His words were slurred and nearly incoherent, and when Buffy leaned in closer to hear him better, his breath nearly knocked her out.

"Let's get to the car, okay?" Buffy said, beginning to lead him through the bar.

"I can drive!" Xander slurred, fumbling through his nonexistant pockets for car keys.

"Xander, you couldn't drive a tricycle right now," Angel said, smirking. "Better let me drive."

"Not driving anywhere with you, Dead Boy...or you either, Dead Boy Junior...where's Buffy?" He spun his head around.

And then passed out.

Spike snickered. "Hey, Angelus, remember that time in Italy, when we got so pissed you lost your pants -- "

"--And the whore in the gondola said --"

"--This conversation is not amusing me," Buffy said loudly. "I do not want to know what the Italian whore said while in the gondola. Are we clear?"

The vampires smiled angelically at her.

"Now carry Xander out to the car," she ordered.

Angel bent down and grabbed Xander's arms, while Spike got his legs. Buffy kindly opened the door for them, and together, they hauled Xander to the DeSoto.

"If he pukes in my car, I'm going to kill him," Spike growled. "Friend of yours or not, pet. He's dead."

"You can't kill him," Angel said.

"You hate him!"

"True...but if you kill him, we'll be denied the joy of tormenting him with those pictures...forever."

"If you two are done chatting," Buffy broke in, "I believe we left something unfinished at home?"

The vampires looked at each other, shoved her into the car, jumped in themselves, and sped off into the night.