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Chapter Text

Buffy Anne Summers writhed around, tossing and turning in her bed, in the throes of an intense dream. Suddenly, she heard a ringing and awoke, covered in sweat, to find her hands wrapped around a big red clock. As it continued ringing, she looked around and saw that Willow and Tara had yet to rise, although their bed springs were making enough noise to be heard over the alarm. Dawn, on the other hand, was up and awake, jauntily walking to the bathroom, rhythm in her steps. It was then that Buffy realized there was music playing; it wasn't a tune she recognized, but that didn't matter now, as she lay there in bed, trying to remember her dream.

Buffy sat in The Magic Box, sketching on a pad, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking impure thoughts, lost in fantasies. Recently her days had been filled with emptiness, but today had been different. It was filled with music, not to mention an aching longing, and for once she had something, and someone, to sing about. She looked down at the sketchpad and realized what she was drawing; it was Spike, well, a part of Spike.

It wasn't just her; glancing up she saw Xander and Anya, exchanging furtive glances, as they looked at Tomorrow's Bride magazine, and Willow and Tara lost in each other's eyes rather than in the magic books they'd set out to study.

She suddenly noticed Giles was standing in front of her, smiling, a giant chopper in his hand, and that triggered yet more impure thoughts. She smiled back at Giles; he clearly wanted her to get on with her training, so she decided to make him happy, though not as happy as she'd like to make Spike. Still, Giles seemed unaffected by the lust in the air, he just wanted her to strip down to her gym clothes and watch her get hot and sweaty. Getting up, she pulled off her hooded gray top and followed her Watcher into the training room. She figured that once she'd worked up a sweat here she could go and find Spike and work up another one.

It was night and Buffy was in a graveyard, going through the motions. She'd rather be with Spike, but their latest contortions hadn't gone at all well. As her mind drifted back to earlier in the evening, and she listened to the music that had been accompanying her all day, she now felt compelled to sing her thoughts aloud:

Just a single sight of Spike's love truncheon
Has me dropping to my knees
But this time there wasn't much to munch on
His thing wouldn't rise
His thing wouldn't please
We gave it more goes, and came to blows
Just hoping that it rose

At that point, a vampire decided to attack, attempting to interrupt her song, but without even blinking she started a counter-attack, fending him off while continuing into the chorus:

And I've been going through the lotions
Playing with the head
Nothing seemed to raise it from the dead

As she finished the chorus, she simultaneously finished off the vampire, plunging her stake into his body in a similar way that Spike hadn't been able to plunge his into her. The vampire crumbled into dust, reminding her once again of Spike's dilemma. Nonplussed by the thought, she continued her musical vigil through the graveyard, coming across a pair of vampires in colorful shirts and a dapper horned demon; they appeared to be sacrificing a guy, also with no taste in shirts, who was tied to a tree. She knew she had to stop them, maybe they were hoping to raise an omnipotent demon who would lay waste to the Earth and end all days. More importantly the guy was hot. Still despite her lustful thoughts turning toward him, it seemed her song still belonged to Spike, as she launched her attack on the denizens of the night.

It was always fine
And upstanding
Now I found it quivering
Can the fault be mine?
I scare his man thing?
Leave it shivering

Her fist collided with one of the vampire's jaws, turning their head round. "He's sure lost that schwing," sang back the vampire, before twisting his head back into place and driving his elbow into her face, knocking her backwards onto the ground.

"Thank for joining in," she replied, as she lay there on the ground. She was being sarcastic, but this was clearly wasted on the demon and vampires, who now all started singing, while she got up and grabbed the demon's sword from the ground.

She makes vampires yearn
Made Angel turn
But according to her song

As they reached the chorus, she took advantage of their performance to stake one of the vampires, kick another where it hurt (curious as to whether he'd switch to falsetto), and stab the demon with the sword, which they all ignored (except the vampire who'd turned to dust) as they continued singing:

She's just going through the lotions
Trying to make it large

"It's not even half the size it - Aargh..." sang the demon, as he finally realized that she'd stabbed him.

While the remaining vampire dropped to his knees, finally appreciating her kick to his groin, Buffy moved on to the cute guy. She was so tempted to leave him tied to the tree and have her wicked way with him, but ashamed of this thought, of what she'd become in the last twenty-four hours, she instead cut him loose and walked up to him, wrapping her arm around him, singing as she rubbed against him.

Hey, cute guy, I really dig ya
Hey, cute guy, I wanna frig ya

That's when he broke the news to her. "Sorry but I'm gay."

"That figures," she said, disappointment in her voice, embarrassment on her face, as she pushed herself off him and continued singing:

I don't want to be
Going through the lotions
Losing self-respect

The last vampire picked himself up and ran at her, diving off a gravestone towards her while she just sang on:

How could this be, I hope that it's not me
I just wish it could be...

She rammed her stake up into the air, piercing the vampire's heart, exploding him to dust around her.

"Erecttttt," she sung out, and then she was left standing there, alone in the night, her body still craving satisfaction. She looked up at the fine phallic lines of Mr. Pointy and smiled.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It was afternoon and an excited Dawn Summers entered The Magic Box.

"Oh my God," she said, walking in, "you will never believe what happened at school today." Then she came to a dead halt as she looked at the familiar scene of the gang studying books of magic and saw what they were wearing to do it. "Oh my God!" she repeated. "And I thought the teachers' clothes were slutty."

"Yeah, I know," said Buffy, looking up from her book. "The others got hit by this weird fashion sense, but not me thankfully. I just threw on this old thing."

"Lucky we're not wearing the same school outfit," said Dawn, "now that would be awkward."

Buffy smiled at her, completely failing to recognize Dawn's sarcasm. "Did everybody at school start singing and dancing too?"

"Now, that you mention it, yes, I think they did. And even weirder, some of the teachers reeked of custard."

Dawn wandered over to The Magic Box's counter and took a seat. Looking down, she saw a beautiful talisman on a chain, almost hidden away by the other junk lying there.

"So, what'd you sing about?" Xander asked her.

"Math."

Xander seemed relieved.

"Ours were more about biology," said Anya.

"Well, ours featured some sea life," said Dawn. "Apparently cod, haddock, crustaceans all love quadratic equations." Ugh, now she'd have that song stuck in her head all night.

Suddenly, Willow and Tara looked away from each other and at everyone else, announcing that they'd made some progress. As they talked to Giles, and everyone's attention was turned their way, Dawn took advantage of the distraction to sneakily pocket the talisman, before listening in on the conversation.

"Well, I'm a hair's breadth from investigating cheeses at this point," Giles was saying, "so I'm open to anything."

"We'll check it out, we'll give you a call," said Willow, as she and Tara got up.

"Yeah, this could blow the whole thing wide open," added Tara, as the two of them hurried away.

It was a sunny afternoon and Tara and Willow had started heading home, when they found themselves taking a long scenic detour through the park.

"Do we have any books at all at home?" asked Tara.

"Well, who wants to stay cooped up on a day like this?" asked Willow, running her hand along Tara's arm. "The sun is shining, there's songs going on, those guys are checking you out..."

"What?" she said, looking over her shoulder and seeing some college guys looking over at them. "What are they looking at?"

"The two of us making out, doofus," explained Willow, pulling her closer, and giving the college guys even more to look at.

Tara felt the excitement spreading through her body and before she knew it she needed to express her lustful lusting lustiness through the medium of song:

I lived my life with a stammer
Didn't know there was such bliss
Now, unlike MC Hammer
I find that I can touch this

Her hand glowed as it moved down Willow's body.

We make love all night, somehow it all seems so right

Her glowing hands now moved upwards.

And I think these are swell
Luscious as can be
Bags of fun and dullness-free
Now I know them so well
Fill me with such glee
They stand up so perkily

Tara would have happily fondled Willow's breasts for longer, indeed for the whole day, but there was another verse to sing so she tore her hands free. Then, taking Willow by the hand, they made their way through the park, across a bridge, moving in perfect synchronicity.

I was so disenchanted
Seemed like I had no air
Feel like I've been transplanted
Loving and lusting, oh yeah

They stopped and Tara wrapped herself around Willow. She needed Willow like she needed oxygen, without her she'd be blue.

Now I breathe you in
As my thoughts turn to sin
Desires I can't quell
Such a wicked witch
Climb on me and scratch my itch
Turned on by your smell
Need you oh so much
Need the wonders of your touch
You bring me relief

Willow and Tara spun around and around, and found themselves appearing in Willow and Tara's bedroom, dizzily falling onto the bed. As Willow moved down the bed, Tara continued her song, her voice now breathless.

Your mouth 'tween my thighs
I can feel you inside
And we won't need no gel
You make me get so wet
Your mouth too busy to duet

Tara convulsed on the mattress, her body covered in sweat, as her hands tightly gripped the covers.

I think I'm gonna yell
Yes, just keep it there
Mmm, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah!

As the excitement grew within her, Tara slowly started to rise from the bed, levitating, floating, feeling Willow's hot flesh against hers.

Now make me come, please
Now make me come, please
Now make me come -

"I bet they're not even working," said Xander, frustrated that Willow and Tara could go away and no doubt make sweet passionate love, whereas that now eluded him and Anya.

"Who now?" asked Buffy.

"Willow and Tara. You see the way they were with each other? The get-a-roominess of them. I'll bet they're -" he noticed Dawn was in the room, "- singing. They're probably singing right now."

"I'm sure Willow and Tara are making every effort," said Giles.

Xander went silent, as his mind drifted off, picturing their efforts.

"Xander?" said Buffy, pulling his mind back out of the gutter, at least for a second until it had time to focus on Buffy's bulging blouse.

"It's okay, Buffy," Dawn reassured her, "I do know about this stuff. Mom and I had the singing talk a year ago. Besides, it is all kind of romantic."

"No, it's not," said Buffy and Xander in perfect harmony. For a second Xander was afraid they might burst into a homophobic song.

"Come on, songs, love... what's gonna be wrong with that?"

It was nighttime and a desperate man was in a dark alley, his right hand working away to no avail. He'd been doing it for hours, but he couldn't stop. A grin was fixed on his face; this was supposed to be pleasure but it felt so much like pain.

He looked down and saw smoke begin to rise. He tried to stop, but before he could, he found himself igniting, fire spreading all over his jerking body. Within seconds he was consumed entirely, his burning corpse falling to the ground. A pair of blood-red leather stilettos walked over to him. Their owner looked down at his smoldering remains and smiled. Rubbing wood was a sure way to start a fire. Still, some liked it hot, and she was one of them; hot reminded her of home.

She stretched and gave a sensual sigh of pleasure. It was nice to be out and about again. Usually they summoned her brother; sure he had better lyrics, but he was far too nice a demon. She, on the other hand, was anything but.

This demon was many things, but she sure wasn't Sweet.

Chapter Text

The next morning arrived and Anya sat up in bed, having just woken up, full of unfulfillment. She noticed Xander wasn't next to her, and so, figuring that maybe he'd had trouble sleeping, she got up, clad in her sexiest red lingerie, not that it had made any difference last night, and headed to the kitchen. There she found Xander, standing next to the stove. He was wearing his red speedos that, as with Anya the night before, he now had trouble filling.

"You want some breakfast, baby?" Xander asked, determined to please his bride-to-be somehow.

"You don't have to get to work?" Anya asked.

"I shut the crew down for the day. My guys start dancing around sexy, we'd get a whole Village People vibe."

"Couldn't you just try and stop them?"

"You can't stop the music," explained Xander, suddenly serious. "Nobody can stop the music." Then his voice flipped back to its usual more jovial tone, "So, waffles?"

A big smile crossed Anya's face, lighting up the room. "That sounds like a cue for a song if ever there was one."

Xander started to reply, but by then the music was starting up and his voice was fading out, while Anya turned away from him and started singing, confiding to no-one in particular:

This is the dude cooking food who I'm glued to
Isn't he great?
Give me a trough and I'll scoff all the waffles
That he can make
I've lived a vengeful life
But now I'll go and be his wife
The only trouble is...
He'll never swell

Now it was Anya's turn to start talking, but Xander ignored her as he abandoned his waffle-making and started to sing:

This is the dame with a name that's changing
Its surname to mine
We will be wed and in bed and embracing
Our bodies entwined
I'll always love her so
And never fail to let her know
There's just one thing that - D'oh!
I'll never swell

At that point Anya joined with him to sing the next line, as they both stared down forlornly at his speedos:

And there's not much to swell

Anya, sad about the disappointing way the song was going, and its tragically retro nature, grabbed hold of Xander by his speedos and led him into the living room, hoping to liven things up. She pushed him down onto a dining chair and straddled him, grinding her body against his in time to the music. She was hoping this would raise more than just his eyebrows.

"It droops," Anya sang, as sexily as she could muster.

"It wheezes," Xander sang back excitedly, all of his body aroused, except for the important part.

"Say 'foreplay' and it freezes."

"She tries some sleazy teases, but it won't revive."

Her hand moved down to his speedos, but still there was no joy.

"It balks at my squeezes."

"But nothing she does pleases."

"His penis has deceasedness, it's just gone and died."

She finally lifted herself up off from him, sadness on her face. As she walked away from him, Xander got up from his seat, looking away from her.

Together they sang, in a downcast fashion, "The vibe gets kinds of gloomy."

Xander elaborated, "Like these speedos seem so roomy."

"Like he's never gonna do me."

"Like I hope that she won't sue me."

"But that's all very well," they continued, as they turned toward each other, their voices together once more. "'Cause, oh no, I'll never swell."

Xander was kind of glad that Anya had also used the word 'I' in that last line. He saw it as a sign of her being supportive and seeing his problem as her problem, and in no way being because it just made it easier for them to duet or that with their current relationship she figured she owned his penis anyway.

While he mused on this, he saw a copy of Playboy that Anya had left on the table, no doubt in an effort to try and arouse his bashful beast. If things got much worse, he'd end up having to read the articles. As he lifted the magazine, and the centerfold opened before him, Anya started her musical commentary:

When it gets bored he
Just likes to think of Cordy
And other sorts of naughty
But it still doesn't grow

Xander looked down at his speedos and lamented:

Now look, it's weedy
It's barely even 3D
It never -

Anya interrupted, "Its eye is beady!"

"This is my curse, y'know."

Anya ignored his words, and started shimmying provocatively, sizzling like the forgotten waffles. "Look at me! I'm dancin' sexy!"

She continued her sultry swaying, as Xander stared at her dumbfounded, and then, when the beat was just wrong, he decided to join in, clumsy and out of step with her, the two of them in perfect disharmony as they danced around the living room.

As the music continued, they started walking towards each other, gazing into each other's eyes.

"You know..." they began.

Xander continued, "You're quite enchanting."

"I love your man thing," responded Anya, as they held hands.

Xander complimented her as his eyes wandered over her:

Of the Scoobies, you're the beauty
With your lips that taste so fruity
And your toned yet bouncy - tight embrace

They held onto each other and danced, their worries seeming to melt away as romance washed over them. Finally, they sat themselves down at either end of their living room table.

Anya sang, "He's sweet."

"She's sweeter."

"He couldn't get much neater."

"Just wish I could delete the fears I have inside," confessed Xander.

In turn, Anya shared her fears:

I've known curses
Their symptoms could fill verses
And what I fear much worse is
This may not subside

They got up and climbed on the table, singing as they inched closer to each other:

It's bad
We know it's queasy
It's sad
But it may never get well

Their faces, now close together, turned away, as they sat, their backs resting against each other.

Xander sang, "Will failure get to be a habit?"

"Will I get my thrills with a rabbit?"

At this suggestion, Xander moved away from Anya, getting off the table. "Will she have so much enragement that she calls off the engagement?"

She also lowered herself to the floor, as they paced around the table. "Is it really that important if he never gets engorgement?"

"Is it sleepy?"

"Is it dreamin'?"

"Will my balls explode with semen?"

Together they finished the verse, their hands joining once more:

We had better dream some scheme 'n'
Go destroying this spell
Or, oh no, I'll never swell
I fear that I'll never swell

"My pants are sealed," said Xander.

"It needs a lift," observed Anya.

"Nothing to see, barely a schlong."

Finally, at the end of their tether and their song, their voices reunited for the final line:

I'll never swell

They collapsed onto the sofa together, both sobbing uncontrollably, too busy to notice their kitchen erupting with flames of a waffly nature.

Chapter Text

It was early afternoon and Xander and Anya were out on the street, walking on either side of Giles, talking at him furiously.

"It's my nightmare! It's my curse!" said Xander. "It's my nightmare curse!"

"It has to be stopped, Rupert," said Anya, talking at the same time as Xander. "My libido's doing the Lambada."

Xander continued, "I used to be incredible, but now I'm a shrinking man. My small guy's a fall guy."

"Even as a demon I was never this horny," said Anya, still talking over Xander, but at least she wasn't singing over him.

"If things carry on at this rate, I'll be singing..." Xander and Anya began in unison, but then paused as they realized they were saying exactly the same thing.

"...castrato," said Xander, finally finishing his sentence.

"... vibrato," said Anya.

At which point Xander decided to keep quiet, since Anya would just talk over him anyway.

"Even the half-dressed firehunks who came round to deal with our waffle fire couldn't help," said Anya. "Their hoses kept malfunctioning."

Giles raised his eyebrows, no doubt wondering whether she was being literal or euphemizing, whereas actually it was a bit of both.

"You've had a fire?" Giles asked. "Is everything alright? Is that why you're dressed like that?"

"The house is fine," Anya reassured him, resplendent in her red lingerie. "It's just that we were too angry to get dressed."

"Much too angry," said Xander, resplendent in his speedos. "Though thinking about it, that seems like a weird excuse for semi-nudity. Giles, you gotta stop this."

"Well, I am following a few leads, and ..." Suddenly he noticed that both Xander and Anya were staring at him.

"Do you always dress as Frank N Furter?" asked Xander, unable to believe that it had taken him till now to notice this. This must surely be one powerful spell.

"Oh, my outfit? It's just a little something I used to wear in London, back when they called me Ripper."

"I'm guessing your first name was Saint," said Xander, but he just got a blank stare from Giles, while Anya was still fully occupied with her starefest. Looked like Xander's 'ST. RIPPER' joke had fallen as flat as everything else recently.

Anya continued to stare wide-eyed at what Giles had been fiddling with, now that he had no glasses to keep his hands occupied. Finally, she spoke, "Rupert! It seems you've not been affected by the spell at all. It might even have worked in reverse."

"Well -" began Giles.

"Take me, Giles! Take me now," said Anya, flinging herself at him. "Let's rip each other's clothes off!"

Once upon a time, Xander might have got jealous, but that was numerous floppy firemen ago. "Everybody loves Rupert the Bare," he quipped, but that also fell flat, only raising a smile from Giles. Great, now he was telling jokes only English people could understand.

Giles pushed Anya away. "That's just the spell talking," he told her.

"I don't care, my quim's a-mewling, and you've got what I need." She thrust her hand into his posing pouch and then she froze, her mouth gasping, her eyes opening even wider. Slowly, she pulled out something long and black and stripy, and then threw it to the sidewalk and stamped on it. "I need sex, not socks," she groaned, as Giles shrugged and blushed and resumed his fiddling.

"Could this day get any more disturbing?" asked Xander.

Giles replied, "Well, I've also learned something..."

As they walked, Giles updated them on his latest findings. Xander was slightly distracted on the way, by a young woman bending over the hood of a car, while a cop looked on. As they passed her, her song filled the air:

I've been such a bad girl today
Make me spread them and have your way
I'm telling you, cop, go!
I need a man, I need a hunk
Need to chase away this funk
I've got a cave you can spelunk
Oh, please don't tell me no
You can't be saying that it's shrunk
That's what my guy told me, the punk
And now his body's in the trunk...

As they got further away from her, and her singing faded, Xander's mind went back to what Giles had just said. "As in, burnt up?" he asked. "Somebody set people on fire? That's nuts!"

"I don't know," said Anya. "Great excuse for a torch song."

Giles shook his head. "As far as I could tell the victims burnt up from the inside. Spontaneously combusted. I've only seen the one - I was able to examine the body while the police were busy doing a Cop Rock revival."

"But we're sure the three things are related?" asked Xander. "Sex and songs and burning souls?"

"We're not sure of much," replied Giles. "Buffy's looking for leads in the local demon haunts... At least, in theory she is."

Buffy was supposed to be looking for leads in the local demon haunts, but there was only one guy she wanted to haunt - that peroxided piece of punk perfection who called himself Spike.

As the last rays of the sun faded, Buffy entered Spike's crypt.

"The sun sets, and she appears," Spike said. "Come to tell me everything's okay? That it's just a bad spell I'm going through? That it happens to everyone?"

Buffy smiled, glad that Spike clearly knew what was going on.

"So, come to pump me again?" Spike continued. "You're certainly dressed for it."

"What? This?" she said, looking down at her latest outfit, a tasteful and demure red leather lace-up outfit with fishnets and thigh-high boots. "Just something I picked up from this adult store. Surprised I haven't been in there before; they had all sorts of interesting magazines." To tell the truth, Buffy was a little offended that Spike, a vampire who still thought the Billy Idol look was fashionable, could criticize her wardrobe. Still, she was prepared to overlook all that for his stunning stud-muffinliness. "But, yeah, if you want to try again, I'm up for it."

"Not sure that's a good idea," said Spike.

"Well, I tried phoning Angel, left him a voicemail rock opera detailing all the things I wanted to do to him, but for some reason he hasn't returned my call."

"It could be that turning to Angelus thing," suggested Spike.

"Well, I know sex makes him kinda cranky," reasoned Buffy, "but this is an emergency."

She pushed herself up against Spike, but he just moved away.

"What's up?" she asked. "You're all bad moody."

"It's nothing," he said, opening the door to her. "I'm glad you could stop by."

Buffy knew that something must be wrong with Spike, to turn her away in her hours of neediness.

"It's nothing," Spike insisted.

"What?" Buffy asked, wondering what could be bothering Spike.

"I cried," he began singing, startling himself in the process, "just two days ago." As Buffy watched him, turned on by his troubadoracity, he continued singing:

When I failed to make you squeal
'Cause it wouldn't grow
But now you come to be with me
All dressed up like a ho
Mmm mmm

Spike started to walk up to Buffy, no doubt admiring her curvy curviness, as his song continued:

I'm stirred
Aflamed and full of zeal
But though you are the one I love
I still can't seal the deal
A whimper is the thing I fear
Which wouldn't be ideal

Spike paused for a moment, just in front of Buffy, his eyes staring into hers, then started his next verse:

You're great
I know you wanna play
And being with you touching me
Would blow me away
But since my manhood's gone to goo
I'm saying stay away
And let me rest my piece

He walked past Buffy and flopped down onto the stone slab of the tomb. Buffy was just considering climbing on top of him, when he was back up again, circling her, his voice now full of emotion, like a man who'd just discovered his chorus:

Let me rest my piece
Let it get some sleep
Let me sing small Spike a lullaby
And let him count some sheep
I can't lay you, Buffy, now
Our hijinks must desist and cease
So let me rest my piece

He grabbed her from behind, and sang into her ear:

God knows
I've been a thrilling knave
And you just love that I'm the sort
Who could get depraved

But then, just when she was getting excited, he let go of her and started to walk away.

But till I'm fixed I'm saying nix
The prognosis is grave
So let me rest my piece

Spike threw the door open and walked out into the night, and straight into a graveyard that was so much closer than it usually was. As Buffy followed him, she couldn't help but notice a funeral procession taking place, and six men carrying a tiny coffin, all respectively dressed in black, from their shiny footwear right up to their gimp masks.

As they carried the tiny coffin toward an open grave where the latex-clad priest and mourners were waiting, Buffy noticed that the music had gone softer. She walked next to Spike, as he continued his song:

You know you should go
But you follow me like you're in a trance
You're just craving sex, but not romance
So I'm sad to say that there's just no chance
The party's over and it's left my pants
Not even time for one last dance
So leave me be

Suddenly the music went up in volume as Spike sang his chorus again, and jumped off a tombstone right onto the tiny coffin that the men were carrying. As they dropped the coffin, Spike jumped off into the midst of the mourners, and morphed, his features turning vampiric, frightening them all away.

At this point, Buffy roughly grabbed Spike, who de-morphed. As they were standing there, Spike and Buffy looked at the gravestone, and saw the words engraved on it: Here lies Spike's penis.

Shocked by the metaphor, they lost their footing and stumbled, tumbling down into the open grave. As Buffy landed on top of him, aware of their closeness, he finished his song, singing loudly into her face:

So let me rest my piece
Why won't you
Let me rest my piece?

The music stopped, and she looked down at him.

"So... can I take that as a maybe?" she asked.

But before Spike could answer, Buffy's mouth was on top of his, swallowing any reply he might have.

Chapter Text

It was later that night and Dawn Summers was in her bedroom, dumping her schoolbooks out of her bag onto the bed. At that moment, a breathless half-naked Tara poked her head in the room.

"Lotta homework?" the blushing Tara asked.

"Math," Dawn replied, kind of tired that she was the only one who could make the effort to get fully dressed these days. "It seemed so cool when we were singing about it."

"Well, Willow said they got a lead on this whole musical extravaganza evil," Tara told her. "This demon that can be summoned -"

"Do they know who summoned it?" Dawn interrupted her.

"They don't even know its name yet. But Willow'll find out. She's the sexy brainy nerdy type. You know what I want to do to those brains?"

Dawn was afraid to ask, so instead ignored the question. "I'm glad you guys made up."

"I think you mean 'made out'?" Tara corrected her, tidying her unkempt hair.

"No, that whole fight you guys had."

"Oh, the pillow fight? You heard that?" Tara said, remembering the morning the music had arrived, and smiled as she looked down at the flowery herb that she'd found under her pillow, a gift from Willow, now pinned to her bra strap.

Dawn shook her head. "No, your fight about magic and stuff."

"Dawn, Willow and I never fought. Don't let the banging and yelling from our room fool you, we're making love, not war."

Tara was clearly in denial about the fight, Dawn figured. "It's okay, I mean I can handle it. It's just, you guys are so great together, I just hate it when - but that was like the only real fight I've seen you guys have anyway. But I'm still glad it's over."

As Dawn was saying this, a horrible notion crossed Tara's mind. She looked down once again at the little flowery herb, but this time she wasn't smiling.

"Dawn, I... there's something I need at the shop. Will you be okay for a little while?"

"Yes," said Dawn, gathering up her sarcasm, "the fifteen year old can spend half an hour alone in her locked house."

"I won't be long..." Tara said, and then was gone.

With her friend out of the way, Dawn walked over to the dressing table and opened up a red jewelry box that was sitting there. From out of it, she pulled the necklace that she'd swiped the other day from the magic shop and slowly put it on, looking at herself in the mirror.

She didn't know why she needed to steal things lately, and she felt bad about having to keep this a secret from the others. Then again, they'd been keeping secrets from her too. Dawn wasn't at all sure what was going on in Sunnydale lately, but she knew that the grown-ups had all started dressing far too revealingly.

"Do they think I won't notice," she began singing, "that everyone's dressed like Cher -"

Suddenly her song came to an abrupt halt as the music took a scary turn, just as she herself turned and screamed as she found she was face-to-phallus with a horrible five-foot-tall papier-mâché penis henchman. Before she could move, two more men dressed as giant penises surrounded her and threw a burlap sack over her head, and everything went dark.

Dawn awoke, thankfully no longer in a sack, and hoped that the giant penises had been but a dream. She slowly opened her eyes and lifted her head and leg up in unison, looking around to discover that she was on a pool table at The Bronze.

She moved rhythmically on the table, to appropriate musical accompaniment, before lowering herself to the floor. As she danced around, in an almost balletic fashion, trying to find an exit, she found herself encountering one large penis after another. As each one insisted on dancing with her, she finally found herself stuck in the middle of three erections, each one blocking her in.

Finally, she managed to make a break from them, and skidded on her knees towards The Bronze's stage, ending up right in front of a staircase coming down from the middle of the stage, her head at eye-level with a pair of sharp red stilettos.

As the stilettos tapped their staccato way down the staircase, Dawn rose and backed away from their statuesque owner, while the penises retreated into the corners. So, this was the demon; dressed in blood red, wielding a whip, with a figure to die for and a face to match. A big grin stretched across the demon's face as she looked at Dawn, and then the demon launched into song:

So, you summoned me
Yet you're still a child

On the last word the demon cracked her whip and her leather outfit, what there was of it, suddenly turned from blood red to shiny black, as she walked toward Dawn, still singing:

A Minor quandary
I guess we'll have to start real mild
I come from your darkest desires
I'll make you sweat and I'll light your fires
So just come with me
Why don't we get real wild?

She danced around Dawn, and Dawn felt the heat coming from her fiery red skin. The demon's scent filled the room; she smelled good, the way demons ought to smell. Suddenly, Dawn felt the demon grabbing her behind. Instinctively she smacked the demon in the face with her open palm, and then, realizing what she'd done, nervously danced away. The demon's hand rose to her red cheek, rubbing it, and then a big smile crossed her stunning features as her song continued:

I've a heart of black
I'm the twisted type
So give me a slap
That's the kind of thing I like
You call me and I'll get things jumpin'
I turn the heat up, I get bods bumpin'
Just fall in my trap
And I'll set you alight

So how about a feel, girl?
Give me just one quick feel, girl

Dawn was afraid to answer her, afraid that she just wanted to be slapped again. As the demon closed in on her, swaying with her, Dawn suddenly found herself being drawn in by the demon's power.

"So, you're, like... a good demon?" she asked. "Making things hot and sexy and fun?"

The demon just laughed, and continued her song:

All these maladies
I give to the guys
Brings them to their knees
Well, it cuts them down to size
With no passion, there comes friction
Just leaves folks ashen, feeds my addiction
Can't resist my sleaze
Which leads to their demise

With her penises now dancing behind her, the demon continued singing, her voice now full of sexy menace:

You brought my tail to Sunnydale
But soon I'll wreck this place
Then we'll fly, kiss this hellmouth goodbye
Then we'll be sucking face

Dawn was a little thrown by all of this. It seemed this demon wanted to get intimate with her, getting to base numbers that Dawn didn't even know about yet. It wasn't even as if they'd been properly introduced, though Dawn figured that maybe the demon had a name that men couldn't pronounce (if only because they'd be drooling too much).

"So how about that feel, girl?" the nameless demon continued.

Dawn decided she better point out the obvious flaw to the demon, "Big surprise, I like guys, if you know what I'm saying."

"And I'll make you squeal, girl."

Dawn figured some elaboration was in order, "By the by, I'm not bi, so bye bye to the gay thing."

But the demon still carried on singing and dancing, her penises bobbing about behind her, as she tried to convince Dawn:

Take it from me and my penises
Men are marred and women are Venuses

"That's your choice, save your voice, hate to be a naysayer."

Give it a taste - sure it will thrill ya
A rocky road, we'll start with vanilla

"The name's Dawn, I should warn you, my sister's The Slayer."

The demon stopped mid dance step. "The Slayer?"

"Yuh huh," Dawn said, nodding, hoping that this news would drive the demon away.

However, the demon smiled instead and barked orders to her henchpenises, "Find her. Tell her... tell her everything. Just get her here. I want to see The Slayer burn." Then she went back to her song, as she reprised her earlier lines:

Just fall in my trap
And I'll set you alight

Chapter Text

He was supposed to be a model of stoicism, setting the others a good example, but since this musical spell had arrived and infected Sunnydale, Giles had found himself hornier than a Chaos demon's cranium. Now it seemed like any innocent thing could send his thoughts plunging down to the sleaziest slimiest dirtiest depths of sexual depravity, from the Olivio spread on his kitchen table (that reminded him of a time with Olivia) to the well-fingered calendar on his desk (that reminded him of many times with Jenny). He'd tried cold shower upon cold shower but all that seemed to do was shrink his 'little librarian' even further, although that was far preferable to giving in to his desires and risk transforming it into a towering inferno.

Now, in the training room at the Magic Box, Giles felt nostalgic as he held a giant piece of wood between his hands, but then Buffy's booted stiletto heel smashed into it, breaking it in two. It seemed to Giles like some strange kind of metaphor.

"Good. Good," he said, as he looked at the shattered plank on the ground, trying to avert his eyes from Buffy and what she was wearing. Yesterday's schoolgirl outfit had been bad enough, but now she sported a red leather outfit that hugged her curves in the very same way that he wanted to. His eyes couldn't resist her, as they slowly swept back up her body, over her fishnet tights, and the sight of her bodice reminded Giles why he used to be called Ripper.

Suddenly Buffy's voice dragged him back out of his perverted thoughts:

"Am I supposed to bow now, or kneel before you… Have honor or something?"

And then he was back to those perverted thoughts once again as the mental image of her kneeling before him sent his imagination reeling. This wasn't like him; he was her Watcher, but lately he was content to just, well, watch her. It was this crazy spell, nobody was acting appropriately anymore. They'd not even batted an eyelid when Buffy had revealed her dalliance with Spike of all people. Giles knew he shouldn't be having these thoughts about his young Slayer, but it seemed impossible to ignore them, to ignore her.

"It may seem hokey," he said, trying to keep his mind on his job, "but we need to work on precision and… and…" he struggled to find the right word as he stared at her breasts, mentally unlacing her top, "...concentration... as much as power. We're still not sure what we're facing."

"You'll figure it out," said Buffy, swinging her long shapely leg up, placing her foot on the pommel horse and stretching her limber body. "I'm just worried this whole session is going to turn into -"

Giles didn't hear the rest of her sentence, his mind was already busy at work, partly wondering if he should replace the pommel horse with a mechanical bull, partly coming up with the many things the training session could turn into, from a sleazy sweaty music video (Let's Get Physical, he mentally sang, and for a moment he was afraid he'd sung it aloud) to a scene from that lesser-known cult classic, Lesbian Spank Inferno: The Musical.

"Well, if that happens," he said, trying to reassure her (though not having heard her, he wasn't really sure about what), "we'll just lie down." He suddenly pictured them on the hard wooden floor together, their bodies entwined. "Until things go back to normal, that is. Anyway, I don't think we need to work too much on fitness, Buff. I mean Buffy."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fit for a corpse," Buffy agreed, as her nubile figure raised into a handstand on the pommel horse.

Giles had to agree, though he was alarmed that the more aroused he got upstairs the less there seemed to be going on downstairs. His posing pouch felt so roomy, and he worried that he'd soon run out of socks.

"Have you, uh, spoken with Dawn at all about the incident at Halloween?" he said, trying to take his mind off his longing.

Buffy jumped off the horse, landing on the ground, though the way she looked she deserved to land on a pedestal, if only so he could admire her more. "I thought you took care of that," she replied.

"Right," said Giles, who would have been disappointed in his slayer for neglecting her sisterly duties, if he hadn't been so eager to mount her the way she'd mounted that pommel horse.

"What would I do without you?" Buffy said as she finished doing some stretches. "Okay, I'm ready."

She certainly was, ready and waiting, but he had to resist her lush lusty lusciousness. He turned to his weapons, mounted on the wall, and started to sing:

You're so red-hot but my thing just dies
It keeps descending, but it just won't rise
I know I find that I keep staring at your thighs
Oh my...

As he continued, he took a couple of knives, weighing them in his hand. He sang directly to Buffy but was relieved to see that she wasn't hearing a word of it. She twisted her neck, getting ready to deflect the knives. He hurled the first two while he carried on singing:

My meat's unbeaten, that is my hell
Flames would exhume me with this messy spell
I try and think of deweydecimal
Oh my...

And as he hit the chorus he hurled the last knife and it stopped, right in front of Buffy's face, as everything apart from Giles started to move in extreme slow motion. Giles looked at the slowed-down Buffy, thrown into a steamy soft focus by his lack of glasses, his gaze lingering over her every movement.

I wish I could feel your nice curves
And trace them with my hand
Wish I could go much farther
Take you till you can't stand
Wish I could 'play'
But now it's not so grand
My man-thing's gone away

As he sang, Buffy continued to train, the perspiration dripping down her leather. Giles circled her, ogling her, as she practiced flying kicks, slowly somersaulted through the air and then started to pummel a punchbag. Finally, she fell into the splits, exciting every part of his body, well, nearly every part.

My primal urges it won't hear at all
All my lusts just cause its thrust to fall
So it just lies here, when it should be standing tall
Oh my...

I wish I could lay you right now
And grope your restless ass
Wish I could free my python
But now it's just an asp
Wish I could play
Start slow and finish fast
But my man-thing's gone away
Yes, my man-thing's gone away

As he finished singing, Buffy turned to him, her normal speed resumed.

"Did you say something?" she asked, thrusting her perky breasts toward him.

He looked at her, his face all flustered, ashamed and guilty and so turned on by her and it took all of his English restraint not to jump her beautifully-adorned bones.

Elsewhere in the shop, Willow was heading down into the cellar and Xander and Anya were working behind the counter, when Tara entered. She was in a rush and little else, as she sneaked in, being careful to avoid them. In her hand, she held a flowery herb.

She moved quickly to the ladder, climbing it to the next level, and started looking for a book amongst the vast library of magical texts. Pulling one out, she flipped through its pages until she found an illustration that matched the plant that she was holding. Nervously, she read the text below it: "Lethe's Bramble. Used for augmenting spells of forgetting and mind control."

Sitting there, looking at the picture, she started to sing, softly, unnoticed by everyone below:

Your breasts were so swell
Must have blinded me
Playing with your mammaries
I never saw your spell
Stole my memory
Almost a lobotomy

Standing at the top of the ladder, Tara looked down at the front of the store. She saw Willow there, talking to Buffy.

"You swayed me with Lethe," sang Tara.

And then as she descended the ladder, she saw Giles standing nearby, who'd suddenly decided to join in. "Believe me, I don't wanna go…" he sang, and then the next second they were both continuing the song:

Now I must leave you and to lust say no
Since we both know

As they started toward their respective loved ones, they sang soulfully, their voices unheard by anyone, even each other. Not that it mattered, thought Tara, since he was probably just recycling some lyric that he'd used earlier. Ignoring him, she continued to sing her innermost thoughts:

Wish we could thrust
Satisfy lustful wants
Rub your bust against my bust
But now my trust
Has turned to rust
And dust and I just

Giles joined in with her once more, as they sang identical lyrics, both wanting something they knew they shouldn't have:

Wish I could play
Wish I could play
Wish I could play
Wish I could play

The final note rang out just as the front door was flung open and Spike shoved a giant erect henchman into the room.

"Lookie lookie what I found," said Spike proudly, displaying the giant penis.

As the Scoobies all gathered around the penis, Tara, now back downstairs, brushed past Willow, trying to ignore her.

"Tara?" said Willow, finally noticing her.

Tara continued to ignore Willow, or at least pretended to. "Is this penis guy the demon guy?" she asked.

"He works for him," Spike explained. "Has a nice little story for the Slayer, don't you?" He thrusted the penis forward towards Buffy. "Come on, then. Spit it out."

Music swelled, but the henchman, having no mouth, started swaying mysteriously.

Buffy and Anya, mesmerized and charmed by his snake-like movements, began to circle the giant erection before them.

"Maybe we can tease it out of him," said Buffy.

"Or beat it out of him," butted in Xander, from the sidelines.

"No, we don't need to," said a transfixed Anya, her eyes glued to his veined magnificence. "Don't you realize? He's telling us."

"What? Like charades?" asked a puzzled Tara.

"Oh! One word!" shouted an excited Willow.

Anya shook her head dismissively and decided she better take charge. "Your mistress has the Slayer's sister hostage at the Bronze because she summoned him?" said Anya, who had been around numerous centuries and in that time had become skilled in the language of the penis. "And at midnight he's going to take her to the underworld to be his queen?"

The henchman nodded.

"Lucky guess," Spike said.

"What does he want?" Giles asked.

The henchman inclined his head toward Buffy, staring her in the eye.

Spike grabbed him from behind. "If that's all you've got to say, then -"

But at that point, Spike was tossed off by the henchman, who bolted out of the still-open door.

"Wankee!" Spike shouted after him.

At the same time, Anya also yelled after the fleeing phallus, "Let's do lunch!" before turning back to a clearly-jealous Xander. "Don't get penis-envy, sweetie. It's just platonic. Besides he's a great conversationalist."

"So Dawn's in trouble," said Buffy. "It must be Tuesday."

"I just left her for a few minutes…" said Tara.

"It's not your fault," Buffy said, turning to Giles. "So, what's the plan?"

"Plan, shman, let's mount up!" said Xander.

It was hard enough for Giles to concentrate on his job with Buffy's breasts hovering in front of him, and Xander's talk of mounting just made thing worse. He knew what he wanted and he knew that was also the one thing he couldn't have. The only option was to keep as far away from his Slayer as possible. "No!" he finally said.

The others turned to him, surprised.

"Uh, Dawn may have had the wrong idea in summoning this creature," said Anya, "but I've seen some of these crazy sex-mad she-demons and it never end well." She hugged Xander and smiled. "Well, maybe once."

"We're not just going to stay here," argued Willow.

"Yes we are," said Giles, realizing no-one could be fully immune to his Slayer's perfectly-proportioned pulchritude. "Buffy's going alone."

Buffy was shocked at this news, and pleased that the others were now arguing over it. First it was Spike calling Giles a stupid git, and then Willow dragging magic into things as usual. As it was, Giles was standing his ground, and the worst thing was that he might be right, at least in Spike's case. If her stud-muffin accompanied her, it would no doubt just descend into yet more distracting songs about his penis, and she needed her wits about her if she was to rescue Dawn.

"Forget them, Slayer," said Spike, interrupting her thoughts. "I got your back."

"I thought you wanted me to stay away from you, not to mention your penis," she replied, still unable to get his penis out of her mind. "Isn't that what you sang?"

Spike took her words hard, looking embarrassedly about him.

"Spikey sang a widdle ditty about his widdle dicky?" said Xander, pleased with himself, since this was one way he could still be a big dick.

"Would you say your penis song was hard rock or soft and slushy?" asked a genuinely-curious Anya.

"Let it go, sweetie," said Xander.

Spike stared at Buffy. "Fine. I hope you dance till you burn," he spat out. "You and the little bint." And with that, he stormed off into the night.

Buffy turned to Giles. "You're really not coming?"

Giles wished he was coming, in every sense, but he girded his loins and tried to stay strong. "It's up to you, Buffy."

"What do you expect me to do?" she answered.

Giles looked her in the chest, and concentrated on not drooling and on producing a coherent answer, he couldn't let her know how he so much wanted to fondle and have bags of fun with her fun bags right now. And so, he just told her what he expected her to do: her best.

Buffy looked at him in confusion, and then silently walked off, out of the Magic Box.

Giles looked at the others, all staring at him with the same confused look, except for Xander who was sniggering. What was their problem? Was it that he'd abandoned his Slayer in her hour of need? At least he'd told her to do her best, hadn't he? And then suddenly his Freudian slip dawned on him as he looked to the floor in embarrassment and his fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just said 'Your breast', didn't I?"

The others nodded in unison, except for Xander who just continued to snigger.

Chapter Text

On a Sunnydale street at night, the throngs of people were dressed provocatively (if they were dressed at all); some in lace, some in leather, some in furry animal costumes. As they sang and danced and fought and cavorted and combusted, Buffy was standing alone, ignoring the chaos that her town had descended into. As she stared into a trash fire and held her hand out to it, she realised she still felt cold. Since she'd come back to life, there had only been one thing that had made her feel warm inside, so she decided to reflect upon this with a song:

I touch Spike's spire and it pleases me
My luck now sucks for it's gone slack
It made me squeal
But now it lacks all zeal
I want his spire back

Just the thought of Spike's restored magnificence was enough to put a spring in her step and a smile on her face, as she then noticed an image of Dawn and her hot red demon captor in the fire's flames, and so Buffy set off jauntily to face whatever fate had in store for her, as she continued her singing:

Now to the Bronze I walk with glee
To go and slay this demon dame
And sing a song
Just hope I save his schlong
I guess I have no shame

So I will march for Spike's spire
'Cause what else makes me drool
I will march for Spike's spire
And keep my-

Meanwhile, in an alley behind The Magic Box, Spike was sitting, his hands holding a wilting cigarette. Unlike the other denizens of Sunnydale running around in their underwear, he prided himself on the fact that he was still wearing his normal black coat, despite the fact that he was completely naked underneath. He looked down to his lap at what would have been a bulge but was now an indent, and sang about his shrinkage:

It's torture, yeah, this mini-me
Guess Buffy's mocking it, alas
Hope she combusts
I'll be free of her lusts

"I'd better save her ass," he concluded, as he flicked away his cigarette, got to his feet, and went off into the night, compelled to continue singing.

And at exactly the same time that Spike was walking along a street singing, elsewhere, inside the Bronze, the musical demon was singing remarkably similar lyrics, along with accompanying thrusting actions, to an increasingly-embarrassed Dawn:

'Cause she is drawn to the spire
Some people are such fools
And she will march for Spike's spire
And keep it-

Meanwhile, Buffy's friends were back at The Magic Box, all in their underwear, apart from Giles who was still in his Rocky Horror attire, now with some extra socks added to his posing pouch. So wrapped up was Giles in his lecherous thoughts of Buffy, that he didn't even notice he was singing them aloud:

Will she have a thong or changed hair
Or be wearing something stranger
Is my slayer down to underwear?

"What if Buffy cannot stop it?" Xander sang to Giles.

"Beady Eye is right - let's hop it!" sang Anya. "Or I could just sing a smash, oh yeah!"

Anya's words were enough to spur the others into action, as everyone started heading for the door, united in their mission and their singing:

We'll all help out
It's what we're always all about
So we will march for Spike's spire

As the gang entered the street, Buffy and Spike were wandering separate streets, all of them headed towards the Bronze.

"So inch by inch it shrank from me, I guess I just can't face defeat," sang Buffy.

"What can't she face if she's in leather?" sang Anya, not even realizing that, on a different street, Buffy was singing over the end of her line:

For when it grows
And when we're in the throes
Nothing can compete

Back in the Bronze, the demon decided that there were already enough people singing the tune without the need for her to join in too. Her brother would have no doubt felt the urge to sing over them, but he loved his lyrics. Not that she wasn't musical, but she was content just to dance around in front of Dawn and practise her licks.

"We must go and save our saviour," sang Anya.

"Soon I'll thrill her with my sabre," added Spike.

"All we ever sing about is schlongs," Tara sang glumly.

"With my sabre I will fill her," Spike elaborated.

"I get one line, this buzzkiller," Willow complained.

"What's it gonna take to right these wrongs," Giles sang soulfully.

"These endless nights will finally end up in a fight," sang Buffy as she arrived, alone, outside the Bronze, while elsewhere Spike and the Scoobies continued to walk their respective streets, as the song continued towards its conclusion:

And Buffy's wrought with such ire
For Spike needs to retool
So we will march for Spike's spire
And keep our cool

At this point an ice cream truck zoomed past behind Giles and the Scoobies, playing the song's tune in the jingly-jangly hurdy-gurdy way that ice cream trucks are known for, but they just ignored it and continued their marching and singing:

Keep our cool
Keep our cool
Keep our cool

On the last note of the song , Buffy kicked down the Bronze's door.

The demon looked over, smiled and licked her lips in anticipation. At last the moment had arrived; foreplay was over, and it was time for the big climax. She leered approvingly at The Slayer's tasteful attire of skintight red leather corset, fishnets and thigh-level stiletto boots.

"It's ho time…"

Chapter Text

On her walk to The Bronze, singing about Spike's spire, Buffy Summers had come to a realization. She'd been spending her post-resurrection days missing Heaven, and one angel in particular, but now, thanks to this spell, she'd become aware there was something she missed so much more, something she'd never find in Heaven. Despite their perfection, with their lack of genitalia, those angels were no Spikes (or even Angels).

She looked over at The Bronze's stage and saw the demon she'd come to slay - a voluptuous crimson-skinned demon relaxing on a comfy leather chair, with Dawn lying on the ground beside her. Buffy had been afraid that the demon might have mistreated her sister, but it looked like she'd not only put her in an exotic slavegirl outfit almost as tasteful as Buffy's own red leather ensemble, but had also given her a stylish black studded collar connected to a leash. It looked like the demon was taking real good care of Dawn, though, as usual, her sister seemed ungrateful.

Buffy walked towards the stage, sensing the demon's henchpenises gathering around her in the shadows, while keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the curvaceous demon.

The demon's eyes were also glued to Buffy. "Love your entrance," she purred, leaning forward and stroking Dawn's hair.

"How are you with death scenes?" Buffy replied.

The demon laughed. "Prefer sex scenes - that's what we're dressed for. Besides, I abhor dying, I've got people who do that for me."

"You got a name?" Buffy asked.

"It's long and hard," the demon announced. "That's the one part of me you won't be able to get your tongue around."

"Well, I oughta know what to call you if you're gonna be my sister-in-law," Buffy continued, trying to ignore the demon's innuendo, trying not to think of Spike and his fabulous flesh flute that she could play all through the night.

"Buffy, I swear I didn't do it," Dawn protested, bringing Buffy back to reality and the reason she'd come here.

"Don't worry," she told Dawn, "I'm sure she'll take good care of you. She's already improved your wardrobe."

"What?" exclaimed Dawn, being her typical selfish self, not seeing the big picture and the importance of restoring her sister's sex life.

"Deal's this:" Buffy explained to the demon, "I can't kill you, you take my sister, and restore Spike to his former phallic glory."

"I'd prefer a threesome," the demon said, as her gaze moved between the two sisters.

"That's not going to happen," said Buffy. She could understand why the demon would rather have her than Dawn, but there was no way Buffy was sharing Spike.

"No threesome?" said the disappointed demon. "You come in here dressed like a ho and you really expect me to believe that?"

"I think you already know…" Buffy said, and then continued in song:

I'm no ho though I sure know their arts
And when the foreplay starts
I open up my parts

Unlacing her red leather corset, she continued singing:

Up all night and riding on Spike's schlong
He's hung like King Kong
But now his thing's all wrong

The henchpenises readied for an attack, struggling to pick up pool cues with the arms they didn't have - they were clearly designed for love not war. Precariously balancing the cues on their heads, they leapt on her but she whacked them off, with blow after tremendous blow, as she continued her song, beating them off in time to the music:

How I'd love to grope
It would raise and lift
Made my dreams come true
That is why I'd smirk
So hard
All night
I don't want other guys
To fit between these glistening thighs

She looked down at the defeated henchpenises, now lying flacid on the ground.

Don't give me schlongs
Don't need those dongs

It was then that Buffy realized the Scoobies had arrived, as she heard Giles's familiar voice coming from behind her.

"She needs a hand. Tara. Willow," he'd said, and the next thing she knew the two Wiccans were lying on the floor, one on either side of her, each clinging to one of her stylish leather boots, their hands wandering all over her body as she continued singing, although her dancing was now, by necessity, only from the waist up.

Give Spike something to fling about

Tara and Willow accompanied her with a synchronised orgasmic gasp of 'Aaaahhh':

He needs something to fling about

And that was followed by another gasp of 'Aaaahhh', this time from all three, as sensations like she'd never known passed through Buffy's body. However, despite this sapphic pleasure, unlike these modern-day witches, Buffy couldn't see herself abandoning her favorite broomstick just yet, so she decided that yet more singing about Spike's pleasure python was in order:

I'm no ho but I am so much worse
That seems to be my curse
My thoughts get more perverse
Think of Spike who'd leave me feeling sore
He thrilled me so before
But now he bores me more
Boy, I hope it mends
Extends and ascends
All my dreams transcends
Now just flops and bends
Well, that offends
Oh how I loved it so
Oh how I'd blow and make it grow
It stood so proud
He'd leave me wowed

Just the thought of it made Buffy go weak at the knees, just as a sweaty Tara and Willow backed away from her to cool off. Then the man himself entered The Bronze, taking it all in, stone-faced, while all she could do was point at Spike and sing about him swooningly:

Let me explain
The inches pre-sprout
When he pulled it out, were seven
Then it grew again
I needed gel
'Cause when it next swelled: eleven
I think it was eleven

Spike looked cool and aloof as the others all stared at him, though he was no doubt smugly grinning on the inside.

She turned to the demon yet again, her voice a mixture of anger and pleading:

So give him something to fling about
Please give him something…

She couldn't resist her pent-up frustration any longer, and since Spike's purple love rocket would no longer reach escape velocity, she had to improvise, grabbing a long thin pool cue from the floor, giving into temptation in exactly the opposite way she'd not done with Mr. Pointy a few nights earlier. She fell to the ground and started pleasuring herself, moving the cue rhythmically in and out, faster and faster, getting hotter and hotter, until she began to smoke. She looked up briefly and saw the horrified faces of Dawn and the Scoobies, some could hardly bear to look at her, some could hardly bear to look away.

Their faces, along with the demon's, became obscured, the stench of singed hair filled her nostrils, and then all she could see was smoke. Suddenly she felt herself being physically pulled back to her feet. Spike was there in front of her, grabbing her charred smoking pool cue and throwing it away. He pulled her corset top back up, covering the modesty she no longer had, and held her arms for a moment as the smoke wafted around them, and then he started singing, his blue eyes - the windows to the soul he used to have - looking directly into hers:

Life's not a schlong
Life is a kiss
Life is just this: It's loving
You must be strong
The things that we lack
We'll only get back through loving
You have to keep on loving
So both of us are loving

Buffy heard his words and his attempt to use the same word over and over again as a rhyme, and her mind went back to that angel William, who'd loved her so, and to the love poetry he'd written for her, so awful it was perfect. Maybe Spike still had some of that poet left in him, maybe he could provide her with a fraction of that all-evasive love she'd known in Heaven. Maybe she could even have the best of both afterllives, love and lust. For the first time since the spell had started, she found it was her eyes that were getting moist. It was at this special moment that Dawny had to go and interrupt them.

"The greatest thing in this world is to love in it," her sister said, with matter of factness, seeming to have no regret whatsoever that she'd misquoted Buffy's dying words. Still, love meant putting up with siblings, and besides, Dawn would soon be gone.

The demon looked at Spike and Buffy in front of her and knew that things were ending just like they always ended. She applauded the show, though she'd seen it many times before. "Typical, love wins out over lust once again. How can my cheap thrills compete with something so precious? And love's even deadlier." She looked over at Tara. "You need love like a hole in the head."

"Get out of here," Willow said angrily.

"Hmm, I smell power. I guess my lover and I should be on our way," the demon said, tugging on Dawn's leash.

"That's never going to happen," Giles said.

"I don't make the rules," the demon said. "She summoned me."

"I so did not!" Dawn protested. "She keeps saying that!"

"You've got my talisman on, you sweet-tasting thing," explained the demon.

Dawn looked down at the necklace, beneath her studded collar. "Oh! But - No! I just found this at the Magic Box... on the floor, and I was cleaning and I forgot to... But I didn't summon anything."

"Well now, that's a twist," said the demon, letting go of Dawn's leash.

"If it was at the shop, that means one of us had to…" began Giles, and as he trailed off, the Scoobies looked at each other.

Finally, Xander raised his hand.

"Xander?" Anya exclaimed.

"I didn't know what was gonna happen. I just heard, you know, revelries and song and... I wanted to be sure we'd work out. Get a happy ending. Sweet laughs. Big time. Maybe get to see some sexy ladies." He pronounced the last two words with a bad French accent, which only made things worse.

"And I think it worked out just fine," the sexy lady demon said with a smile, while all of the other females in the room, apparently not sexy enough for Xander, were busy glaring at him.

"Does this mean I have to... be your king?" Xander asked excitedly, his beady eyes beaming, as he spotted a sexy escape route out of his current predicament. "Maybe your gimp?" he offered, willing to bargain as he saw the way Anya was looking at him.

The demon paused briefly to consider the possibility. "It's tempting," she said, "but I think we'll waive that clause just this once. Big smiles, everyone: you beat the bad girl... And I so love being beaten." She looked upwards and then a giant grand piano crashed down from the sky onto The Bronze's stage. Smiling at her audience, she climbed on top of it and delivered her final song:

Well, at last we're done
Hope you loved my spell
And despite the fun
I can see you've been through hell
All these feelings you've been revealing
Say you're horny now - Once more with squealing
Made your motors run
But now it's farewell

She disappeared right at the last line, her closing 'farewell' ringing out from the emptiness, leaving just silence in its wake.

Chapter Text

Everybody was standing in silence, each coming to terms with what had happened. Finally, tentatively, Dawn began to sing: