>So, I was wondering whether I could wheedle some fic out of you.
>Kind of a guilt trip thing. Anyway, fic to cheer Elizabeth up
>would be *really* appreciated. And here's the challenge:
>B/A *OR* C/A (I've got an alarming attraction to this new couple)
>1) goose-down comforter
>2) Chinese food
>3) rain
>4) A bottle of Claret

Anything for you, babe. No wheedling necessary. It's a little late, but I have things sometimes.

TITLE: All Night Long
EMAIL: lex@bitchenvy.com
RATING: R for innuendo
DISCLAIMER: All BtVS and AtS characters, concepts, etc. are copyright FOX, The WB, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy Productions, and Kuzui Entertainment. This work is not-for-profit fanfiction, and no infringement is intended.
SYNOPSIS: Answer to Elizabeth's challenge. Buffy's had a rotten day...but things cheer up when she gets home.
DEDICATED: To my beloved TA. I couldn't do it without you, kiddo!
SPECIAL NOTE: To Sara: HA! Half-hour, start to finish.

Normally, Buffy Summers enjoyed rain.

It was relaxing. Soothing, even. Because, after all, the undead tended to dislike getting wet, and so stayed indoors during inclement weather. But when her car broke down, stranding her in the rain on her way home from work, she was decidedly less fond of it. Fortunately, it was a school holiday, so her children were already at home, with no need to be picked up. And her husband was more than capable of taking care of himself, so with a long suffering sigh, she grabbed her bag, locked the car door, and walked the ten blocks home.


Ten blocks took a long time to walk in the rain.

After what seemed like eons, Buffy made it home. She opened the front door, and dragged her dripping wet body through it. "I'm home," she muttered as she dropped her bag in a moist heap in the corner. Pausing to look around, she noted that the house was quiet. Too quiet for a house with four children between the ages of two and twelve. "Anyone home?" she called out, walking into the living room.

There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, with a goosedown comforter placed in front of it. A bottle of claret was sitting to the side, with two glasses next to it. A bag of what had to be Chinese take-out was also there, waiting to be eaten.

Now this was interesting, she mused as she looked around. There were no toys strewn through the room, no broken crayons, no magazines, no GameBoys. It was spotless. From the corner of her eye, she saw Angel enter the room.


"Angel!" she gasped even as she looked him up and down, "The kids!"

Her husband smiled wickedly at her. "The kids are at their Aunt Dee and Uncle Tommy's house. For the night." His smile got wider, then disappeared as he got a good look at her. "What the hell happened to you? Were you attacked?"

"No, car broke down," she said absently. Then his words registered. "You got Cordelia and Doyle to take ALL of the kids for the night?"

"Yep." He was smug.

"All night."


"A whole child-free night."

"Completely childless."

"Where we could conceivably do *anything* we wanted?"

"All night long."

It was Buffy's turn to smile. "Would you look at me? I'm all wet," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

"You'd better get out of those clothes before you catch your death," he said straight faced.

"Oh, I should." With that, she stripped off her coat, casting it to the floor. The carpet would dry. She reached behind her to undo the button on her blouse, but her wet fingers wouldn't allow her to grasp it. "Think you could give me a hand?"

"I think that could be managed."

He stalked over to her, running his fingers along her neck, shooing her hands out of his way. Her blouse was removed quickly, her bra quickly following suit. She turned in his arms, burrowing against his chest, naked flesh touching equally naked flesh.

He shivered a little. "You're cold!"

Buffy arched an eyebrow. "I think we have a case of the pot and the kettle here."

He laughed, rubbing her arms with the palms of his hands to promote warmth. Her hands went to the waistband of her pants, and she undid the clasp, stepping out of them and her equally sodden panties.

Buffy raised her arms and linked them behind his neck. "Well, look at this. You're naked. I'm naked. There are no screaming children. It's raining; all the vampires are snug in their beds. Well, all except for the most important one. So...what should we do?"

"I found one of Justin's video games while I was cleaning the house. We could play that."

"I'm thinking no."

"Ummm, let's see...how about a drink?"

"I say we save the drinking for later. After."


"After we work up a thirst."

"Hm. That sounds promising." He leered at her.

"Doesn't it, though?"

His head descended. His lips had barely touched hers before she jerked her head back. "Wait a minute. What did you do?"


"Angel, you cleaned the house, unloaded the kids, and set up this very romantic scene. I ask again, what did you do?"

"Can't I do something romantic for the love of my unlife?"


He shifted in her embrace. "Weeeell..."

"Angel?" Her voice was stern.

"I kind of...well, I invited two more guests for Christmas dinner."

"Is that all? You're silly," she said. "Do I know them?"



"You know them pretty well."

"Who are they?"

His words were rushed, running together. "SpikeandDrusilla."

Her eyes sparked with rage, but before she could explode, his mouth covered hers, and he lowered her to the comforter.

She glared up at him. "Don't think I'm going to let that go so eas--ahhh, oh, damn you Angel, Aaaangel, oh, right thererighttheredon'tstopdon'tstop..."