It was with a slightly painful haze that Illyria finally awoke. It felt as though the world were ripping to shreds around her, much like it had moments before her parasitic form had finally conquered the Burkle shell. Screams of agony all around, birth and death.

A sound remarkably like a groan escaped her lips, and she wondered whether she should just go back to sleep...

And then her eyes opened wide in sudden shock and realization: She didn't sleep.

The first thing she saw was naked mammal flesh, hard and pale and wrapped around her in a bewildering maze of limbs. Frantically, her mind searched for some explanation for her blurred recollections.

"'Mornin', luv," a sleepy voice muttered into the side of her neck.

Alien blue eyes widened comically when she abruptly realized who exactly she'd spent the night with. Brief flashes of the bar, glass after glass of water, and...

Oh no. She hadn't actually put her tongue where she thought she'd put it, had she?

"Y-You..." she began indignantly, trying to scramble off of his naked body with some semblance of dignity. Unfortunately, they'd become intertwined enough that she tripped – still unsteady after all the water she'd consumed the night before – and fell squarely on his chest once more.

"'Insensitive pig's an old favorite," he suggested, outwardly unperturbed by this rather unique morning-after experience. Inwardly, he was counting the seconds he had left to live...and, of course, gloating at the fact that he'd bedded himself a goddess of all creatures... "With 'disgusting thing' and 'convenient fuck' coming in as strong runners up."

Illyria was too incensed to even respond. His body was cloaked around hers, sticky with their shared fluids of the previous night, flexing and pulsing beneath her fingertips and... Well, actually, she was trying to ignore her first response. Her second was disgust that she'd allowed this shell to be so debased.

"Or, yeah, that look'll do nicely," he added, sounding a bit too chipper. "'m waitin' for a fitting speech about the hazards of wallowin' with pond scum." He cocked his head to one side, studying her intently.

"I..." Illyria trailed off, still too dumbfounded to form a coherent sentence.

She needed to escape this body – both bodies, for hers was disobeying her as well. Once she was clear of him, she was confident she'd be revolted by that lean musculature, pure alabaster skin, and clear blue eyes. Oh, and that soft, talented tongue that was flicking across his lips, leaving them moist and tender, gentle and demanding all at once, kissing her breathless before he trailed down her body, found the junction of her lower appendages, and tested his tongue's talents on her...

In nearly blind panic now, she managed to prop one arm up on the mattress and rose above him. She sat back, almost in relief, only to find that her butt was now caressing something very long and hard.

An indignant gasp died on her lips as she glared down at him.

He shrugged. "What'd you expect with all that lovely squirming you're doin'?" he demanded.

"Foul...creature!" Apparently, her mind hadn't quite caught up with her body yet. Actually, they seemed to be at perfect counterpoint to each other because she felt her inner thighs grow damp once more where the tip of his erection was gently rubbing her coarse, blue curls.

He leaned in close, figuring that if he was going to go out, he'd do it with a bang. "Those luscious lips of yours say no, but your other lips," he thrust up against her sex, "say yes." He tensed, preparing to flinch at the very deserved blow.

Instead of the mandatory insult, however, she moaned at the friction of his cock rubbing against her, head thrown back in time with the ululating sigh...

And, suddenly, realizing what they were both doing, they froze, horrified blue eyes meeting.

"Er...what I meant was... Where are my pants?" Spike demanded, flustered. He looked around in vain.

"Yes," Illyria agreed readily. "You will restore your encasements so I will not—" She twisted to reach his jeans and, as she moved, some cosmic force decided to poke more fun at them because the angle was just perfect for Spike to slip inside her quite by accident.

It was just his head inside her, but it caused them both to halt instantly, unmoving for fear of making the situation worse. Although neither really knew whether they wanted him to go deeper or pull out.

"Don't move," Spike advised, his voice the barest of whispers.

Illyria nodded. The slight motion was enough to create the slightest of friction through the union of their bodies.

"Oh..." she breathed in awe.

"Fuck, that's good..." He squeezed his eyes shut tight against certain temptation. Eyes still closed, he fought for his control once more. "Right, then. You've got to get off me right now, pet, or 'll—Christ!" He cried out in abandon and instinctively thrust upward when, instead of pulling him out of her body, she lowered herself, pushing him in deeper. His final thrust put him all the way inside her wet quim, buried up to his balls in luscious goddess.

Disbelieving blue eyes opened to see her smiling down at him with that enigmatic smile that always spelled trouble. "What are you—? Oh yeah, right there!" he exclaimed when she squeezed. "Fuck, harder!" Then he realized what he was saying again. "No wait, stop! I—"

Head tilted to one side in amusement, she studied him, rocking her hips in a slow, tortuous motion.

A strained whimper escaped his lips.

"Your body is so easy to manipulate," she informed him, finally seeing the humor in this situation.

Her instinctive reactions had all been based upon Winifred Burkle's memories. Meager human concerns about intimacy, trust, propriety. They were nothing to Illyria. And, while fornicating in soft mammalian flesh certainly wasn't something she would have chosen, the way his body was so completely at her mercy was...intriguing. Not to mention the feel of him, long and thick inside her, was far from unpleasant.

"I am Illyria," she informed him, moving in a regular rhythm now, riding him slowly. "Millions have trembled in my wake. You are no different. You will simply tremble from pleasure rather than pain."

"No objections..." he agreed huskily, grabbing hold of her hips and pounding into her willing body intentionally now.

She was warm – hot, even – but not like a human's body was. This was the crackle of power, raw potential, primal and fierce, wrapping tight around his aching cock and filling him with shocks of ecstasy. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before last night, and he was going to savor every second of it he could.

"You like that, pet?" he gasped beneath her. "Takin' a cunt full of prick?" Not to be outdone, his hand found the union of their bodies, twisted her clit roughly.

She glared down at him, and then the waves of pleasure struck her and she was even more furious. How dare he try to seize control? He was hers, not the other way around.

"Insolent creature," she hissed, leaning forward against him, sharpening the angle of his penetration.

"Haughty strumpet," he retorted cheekily. He caught her to him then, thrusted hard and rolled their bodies over in a motion so abrupt it caught her completely off-guard.

"Release me," she demanded. "I will be the one who—" Her orders were interrupted by a gasp of delight when he struck her g-spot. Her ire melted as the pleasure finally boiled over within her, creating a cascading wake of ecstasy around her.

Spike came at the end of it, holding on tight as their moment of bliss played out again and again in soft echoes...

Finally, Illyria came to with a gasp, eyes snapping open. "You are leaking sticky saltwater upon this shell," she complained, pushing his shoulders back off of her.

"'S called 'sweating'," he corrected, rolling to the side of her and collapsing upon his mattress. Damn. He knew he should've gotten a bigger bed...

"It causes flesh to cling like slime."

"Ever the romantic, I see," he grumbled under his breath, closing his eyes. "So, what now, pet?"

"You are in error. You are my pet."

He snorted. "With the way I had you beggin' all night? Hardly."

"I was inebriated."

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that." He scratched his head. "Enjoyin' sobering up?"

"Fissions and faults crack through my skull as if the earth itself is ripping apart at the seams."

He blinked at her in stunned disbelief. "My kind of woman..." he breathed in a heady whisper. "Oh, and there's some Tylenol around here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his apartment.

"Tylenol?" she repeated with a blink.

"Turns the earthquakes to tremors."

"A geological device, then."

He chuckled. "Close enough."

She closed her eyes and winced at the pain. "I will search for this 'Tylenol' when the pain has lessened."

"Such a rough life you lead," he teased.

One half-hearted hand swatted at him.

"So..." He propped himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "Should I be fleein' for my life for my sacrilegious plunderin' of the divine pussy, or am I safe in my own bed?"

"I do not know," she countered, eyes still closed tight. Apparently, their rather exuberant copulation this morning had exasperated what had once been only a slight pain.

With a sigh, he sat up, nudged her over so that her head was in his lap and began massaging her temples. "'d get you the Tylenol, but then you'd hafta drink more water, and..." he trailed off.

"Water. Is. Bad."

"Hate to see what'd happen if you got a bitta alcohol in your system," he concurred, continuing to massage her headache away.

"Perhaps, I should not attempt that experience." A sigh of relief escaped her lips when his fingers' motions finally began to push back the pain. "Are human shells so frail with all forms of injection?"

"Well, was one thing you seemed to take pretty good last night," he countered, tongue rolled up beneath his teeth.

Her eyes opened, then, to fix him with imperious eyes. "Impertinent half-breed."

"The impertinentest," he agreed with a smirk before turning back to the matter at hand. "But the water thing? That's all you, luv. Funny things can happen when demons and humans meld."

"Like your hair?"

"Oi!" he exclaimed in protest, stopping his massage. "'ll have you know that I—" He froze at her bemused expression, realization slowly dawning on him. "Did you just make a joke?" he asked in disbelief.

She moaned in complaint at his loud voice.

"Right. Sorry," he said more quietly, resuming his massage.

"How is it you are not suffering?" she demanded, pouting a little. "You were as intoxicated as I."

"Practice," he retorted. "Not that my noggin wouldn't take a shot of JD, if I had any around..."

"Your words are bizarre and nonsensical," she frowned.

"More booze, pet," he clarified.

"Ah. Does that facilitate recovery?"

"No, but it makes you too drunk to feel the pain."

"Hmm..." Her tone was turning sleepy, her body relaxing as his thumbs rubbed soothing little circles into her temples. "Perhaps I will not punish you for this slight, after all..."

"Punish me? You're the one to jumped me to get her jollies out. Had quite a time trying to fight you off. Like an octopus when you get horny, is what you are."

"Once, I had tentacles from which no being could escape."

"See?" he retorted. "Octopus. I saw the picture in the watcher's book."

"Simple mollusks from the depth of the ocean cannot even begin to describe the might of my—"

"Blue octopus," he teased.

"Bleached-out pond scum." One hand reached up, and blue-tipped fingers curled around a short lock of peroxide hair, pushing it back from his forehead with affection that surprised even her.

"There. See?" he retorted softly. "Octopus."

"You attempt to annoy me. It wearies me."

"Then, 'd say 'm winning," he countered with a grin.

"Are we still sparring?" she demanded.

"Always, luv," he promised.

"I am victorious with fists, and you with kisses, then," she concluded. "I shall select my battlegrounds more carefully in the future."

"Never hurts to practice up on your weak spots," he teased. "'d be happy to give you some good, wholesome instruction in the art of bedroom aerobics."

"I'm unsure whether 'good' and 'wholesome' would be as enjoyable," she considered thoughtfully.

He rolled his eyes. "'S an expression, pet. 'Good, wholesome' means 'naughty an' kinky' in this case." He looked her pale blue body up and down with a leer. Definitely some exploring he'd like to do there while sober...

"That is preferable. That, and further relief to the pained pressure points in this body," she requested.

"Want the full body massage, then, pet?" he tisked lightly. "Awfully domestic of you..."

"Your hands' purpose is to pleasure me," she informed him, drawing his fingers down to her shoulders. She looked up at him, studying him with overly-large blue eyes. "It is part of your function as my pet."

"Don't take to domesticatin' well," he countered, eyes narrowing with annoyance.

"I will 'break' you, where lesser beings have failed," she retorted confidently.

"Arrogant li'l thing, aren'cha?" He shook his head. "And here I thought 'd broken you. Mighty goddess all curled up in my lap, frisky and kittenish." He began gently massaging her shoulders. Tied up in knots.

"Never." The word was spoken with that icy precision he'd previously associated with her.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her blatant attempt to make like they hadn't spent all last night screwing each other in every single conceivable position. "You'd make about as good a pet as I would, luv," he pointed out. "Best to keep things like they are, 'd reckon."

"Grinding your face into the ground has, in the past, stimulated this shell's pleasure centers," she finally conceded, agreeing to his proposal.

"Hey, now," he frowned. "You've been takin' quite a few hits lately yourself."

"You lie."

"You delude yourself," he shot back cheekily, that irascible smirk on his face that always made her want to strike him as hard as she could.

"Impudent worm."

He caught her fist. "The 'impudent worm'," he corrected, "is Spike Junior. Remember him from last night, right? When he spent the whole evening buried up your sweet li'l quim, and you begged him to fuck you harder?"

"Are you always so...crude?" she demanded, sitting up to notice that the 'impudent worm' in question seemed quite ready to go once again.

"Always."

She turned to face him. "You are an irritating fly buzzing in my ear. The water dulled my senses enough to tolerate you."

"Could always make a habit of the nightly bar-run," he suggested. "Quick drink, and then come back here for a poke. Nice li'l routine."

She cocked her head to one side, considering that. The movement of her head reminded her of the headache she was fighting. Perhaps more liquid wasn't the solution. Although gazing at that body of his seemed to make him more palatable...

"Water will be unnecessary," she decided, one arm locking roughly at the base of his neck, while the other caught him about the waist. She yanked him close, reveling in the feel of his body against hers, his lips only inches away. "I have discovered another way to silence you." Her tongue flicked out to meet his lips.

His standard protests and struggles came to a sudden end when she kissed him. This wasn't bad at all, really, he decided. Nice stamina, full breasts, tight cunt... And no pesky worries about their future together since even he wasn't that deluded. No, this could be quite fun, if looked at it the right way. The right way being shoving his tongue into her hot little mouth and feeling her hand wrap around his dick. Fun for the whole family...

"You will enjoy being my pet," she informed him when they finally pulled apart, her grip on him still as unbreakable as steel.

"Thought we agreed—" he began to protest.

The hand on his cock squeezed and began stroking him hard and fast. "Enjoy," she ordered.

Ah well, what was a bloke to do? "Might not be so bad after all..." he conceded. "Just... Ooh. Do that again, luv. Yeah, touch me just like that..."

"You are much more pleasing when I have skinned you of your exoskeleton," she informed him. "Not even your crude words can detract from your pretty, pale shell..."

"Mmm," he murmured, burying his nose in her hair as she stroked him off. Oh, he could get used to this. Fighting and fucking, just like he liked it...

And then, belatedly, her words reminded him of something he'd long ago forgotten in his drunken haze.

"Wait a minute, luv." He pulled away. "Skinnin'..." He looked around the apartment. "What ever happened to my coat?" he demanded, a hint of ire in his voice.

She frowned, struggling to remember. "I was sitting upon it, and then I..."

He groaned. "Left it in the bloody bar," he concluded.

"I did not leave any of your blood in the bar," she corrected.

And he just shook his head. "Hafta go back and do it all over again tonight, then, I s'pose."

Illyria's hand wrapped around his cock once more. "That is...acceptable," she agreed with a ghost of a smile. A pleasurable sequence to repeat, to be sure...

And five blocks away, Harold tossed the remains of the table that had been smashed to pieces out with the trash. Yet another Spike-related fatality.

Clapping his hands together, he returned to the bar to clean up and groaned when he saw what the couple with the freaky hairstylists had left behind. Neatly folded over the blue-haired woman's stool was Spike's black leather coat.

Harold resignedly picked it up and brought it around with him behind the bar, storing it under the counter. No doubt that Spike would be back tonight to claim it. Maybe with his new girlfriend, too.

Harold picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. "Hey there, Neil. Look, is there any way I can get more insurance on my place?"

After all, Harold was no fool.

Thus endeth the Weird Drunk!Illyria Fic (TM). ~_^ So yeah, hope you all were as amused by it as I was...