I hold the bottle out to him. "This," I say solemnly, "will give you all the answers you will ever need."

He raises an eyebrow and looks at the bottle with distaste. "Will it tell me why you're here?"

"No," I say, dissolving into giggles again, "but if you drink enough of it, you won't care why you're here, either." I raise the bottle again and am shocked by a terrible burning pain on my lip. Damn. I've gotta figure out which one's the cigarette-hand.

-Part One: Unexpected Visitor

The chair's... nice. I mean, it's just your average, normal, garden-variety (what does that mean, garden-variety? chairs don't grow in gardens, and if they did, it would be an outdoor carpentry shop, not a garden) wooden kitchen chair.
-Part Two: Drinking Buddies

All right. So the battle ground is a plastic sheet covered in multi-colored circles, and the weapons of choice are a little spinny wheel and our limbs. And the prize is....I`m not entirely sure, something about getting naked. I`m very drunk, damnit, and it made sense when he suggested it!

Besides, I`m a modern guy -- vampire. I can do battle wherever the age old quest for right may take me! I will spin this
...little...spinning...thing...and I will arise victorious! My enemy will fall at my feet! He will --

``Spin, you asshole, or I`ll do it for you!``

-Part Three: Twist and Shout

I slip a hand around his thighs and find his balls. I squeeze. Hard. He lets go.

"Arsehole!" he snarls around his fangs. "Not fair."

Fair... Vampire... Wrestling match...Naked Twister...Destruction of my property..No. Not connecting the dots, here.

-Part Four: Spin the Bottle

You know, in the split second between the moment I regained my soul and the moment that my ex-girlfriend ran me through with magical sword and sent me to Hell, a lot of things rushed though my mind. But I distinctly remember thinking "one thing's for certain. I'm never going to the *mall* again."

-Part Five: The Record Store

``I DO NOT shag men!`` I insist loudly. ``I only shag you!``

``Should I be flattered now or insulted? It`s not entirely clear.``

-Part Six: The Fashionable Male

``So far this evening, you`ve insulted my parentage, my age, and now my heritage. I`m safe in assuming there`s not much left?`` I quip, struggling to keep the edge from my voice. If he knows I`m annoyed he`ll only try harder. Two hundred years. You`d think I`d have learned to ignore him by now.

``Well, there`s always your dick size,`` he grins.

I still haven`t learned.

-Part Seven: The Parking Garage

``What about your stinkin` redemption?, `` I howl, almost piteously. If the flash of some fang didn`t do it, maybe the whole guilt thing will. That`s his gig now, ain`t it? ``You`ll never get into heaven tormenting me this way, you sorry sonofabitch.`` I wind my fingers desperately around a conveniently placed pole.

Apparantly, however, he sees no contraindication between my suffering and his Eternal Reward.

-Part Eight: On the Town

He can`t kiss without devouring, he can`t caress without claiming, and good bloody gods he can`t fuck without owning, and I would never consider, never conceive of letting anyone lay claim to me this way or any other. But when he holds the back of my neck in that unyeilding grip, and runs his tongue over my mouth with hungry growls, and works his way down my chest with wet, open-mouthed kisses, and stinging bites, and tears the tux he bought me right off of me, and wraps that persuasive mouth of his around my cock, and swallows in the rythym of his sucking, dear sweet jesus, he can plant the flag of Ireland on my ass and claim it for his fucking god and country.

-Part Nine: Intermezzo

He glances over at me in mock anger and curls his black-tipped fingers around the steering wheel. "Yeah, well, we're about to be late. If you hadn't taken so fucking long in the shower..."

"And I suppose the blowjob I received between shampoo and rinse had nothing to do with that."

"I thought it would put you in a better mood. Clearly I was wrong."

-Part Ten: Revenge is Sweet

I peer through a latticework of elbows and knees as I am hurled up into the air again and see a Rude Girl with lots of facial piercings spill her beer all over his shirt. I watch in amusement as his game face surfaces briefly in rage. Only my Sire would go demonic over the prospect of another trip to the dry cleaner's.

Oh, my. I'm upside down. How did that happen?

-Part Eleven: The Mosh Pit

He growls at me, but I am undeterred. A Vampire should not have this kind of stuff in their medicine cabinet. A Vampire shouldn`t have a goddamn medicine cabinet! It`s right unseemly.

-Part Twelve: Bedtime Rituals

I snarl, clutch at the quilt, and pull it towards me. But he's got a death-grip on it and it tears neatly in half.

This is why preternaturally strong vampires shouldn't play tug-of-war with textiles.

I sit up in shock. This is

*(was)*

my favorite quilt. I got it in Spain. It's beautiful. It's *priceless.* I had to kill for it. No, really. I did. I killed the little old toothless blanket-weaver.

-Part Thirteen: Sleeping Habits

"Spike," I gasp, alarmed, "are you *stealing* the spiders?"

He crooks an eyebrow at me. "Of course not."

I sigh in relief. "Good."

He turns to leave. "I'm gonna feed 'em to the piranhas."

-Part Fourteen: Snake Week

I struggle to sit, but it`s no use. I think I`ve become jello. Vampire jello. I hope it`s lime. O god. I`ve hit my head.

-Part Fifteen: Discovery Channel in Reverse

He hurls his shotglass into the fireplace with a determined gesture. "I WAS NOT A FUCKING POET! I WAS WILLIAM THE BLOODY, GODDAMNIT! I WAS, AM AND SHALL ALWAYS BE A BADASS AND I NEVER WROTE NO SODDING POETRY!!!"

I think he's slightly drunk.

Funny thing is, I *clearly* remember turning him. In an alley. Alot. And there was sex. Alot.

-Part Sixteen: Random Effulgance or the Art of Getting Jossed

``Angel,`` Spike retorts impatiently, flipping through the pages, ``it's total crap. Vampire-bats. Vampire-wolves. Scantily clad, accommodating, beautiful virgins. *These things do not exist.*``

-Part Seventeen: Damper

I have the upper hand. I have the wits. I have the plan. I have the biggest fucking hard on in the room. I have the duct tape.

-Part Eighteen: High 'n' Dry

He can`t resist a concerned look around as he quickly gets dressed. Like he`s waiting for a big neon sign over the fountain to light up...` ATTENTION! NOW PLAYING! TWO QUEER VAMPIRES FUCK IN CHLORINATED WATER!`

-Part Nineteen: All Wet

'Twas the night before X-mas and all through the village
The vampires awoke, to rape, murder and pillage..

-Part Twenty: `Twas The Night

I can imagine what he's thought of to do to me for leaving him tied up all night. Most likely, it involves holy water and my manhood. Not that he'd ever go through with any of his torturous plans. I am his sire, and he'd never hurt me, no matter what I did to him. Never.

Besides, the ribbon is indestructable.

-Part Twenty-One: O Come All Ye Faithful

Spike smacks me on the shoulder. I glare at him, but he only gives me this expectant look in return, like I'm supposed to tell him the answer to what the square root of negative one is. Which is nothing. It's an imaginary number. How do I know? I was in Hell, remember? Math is a required course.

-Part Twenty-Two: Happy Holidays

“Cordelia, you know, your skeletal secretary who obviously needs a raise to feed herself? She must have done some mojo on the tree so it would defend itself from attack.”

“And your ass attacked it?”

“I brushed it with my perfectly sculpted cheek. Yes.”

“Cordelia put transmission fluid in the oil reservoir in my car. Christmas tree protection spells are somewhat beyond her.”

-Part Twenty-Three: Angels We Have Heard On High

He's naked, except for his boots, and a Santa hat. And there's also the matter of the mistletoe. The little sprig of green and white is tied with a bit of red ribbon and is dangling jauntily from his raging hard on.

I'm torn between the need to smack him in the head with the pitcher and the desire to leap on the marble perfection of his body and fuck him through the cushions where he lies.

I'm spared the decision making process when the pitcher slips from my hand and shatters on the floor.

-Part Twenty-Four: Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire

"You'll go with me to the theater?" he asks.

Still talking. Will the idiot never learn? It's a cardinal rule. Thou Shalt Not Speak When Your Childe's Dick Is In Your Mouth.

"Christ Almighty! I'll go!"

-Part Twenty-Five: The Nutcracker Suite

"Look at it! It's all... skinny... and unkempt."

"Yeah, I know." I give Angel a rakish grin. "We could call it the Sid Vicious Tree. Decorate it in safety pins and plaid?"

He rolls his eyes and snatches the tree up in one hand. "Miserable little thing."

"Me, or the tree?"

"Both."

-Part Twenty-Six: O Christmas Tree

I¹m William the Bloody, companion to the Scourge of the British Isles and some Eastern Block countries that don't exist any more.

I can handle this.

I am in control.

It starts to move, and I give myself a mental cheer.

No reindeer's gonna get the best of *me*.

-Part Twenty-Seven: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer

I've never seen Angel move quite so fast before in my entire time with him. He's outrun lynch mobs at a more leisurely pace than he adopted when the cocks got away from me. Later I will savor the vision of him leaping to the top of the counter in game face when one of the birds runs in his direction.

-Part Twenty-Eight: We Wish You a Merry Xmas

"Spike, we are not going to do this in the...oh God, put down the Baby Jesus."

This has to be some part of my atonement - there's no way the Powers that be are sanctioning this act unless it has some bearing on my redemption. Either that or I'm going to have to take more fucking responsibility for boinking Spike in a plastic nativity set.

"I can't do this with them watching me."

-Part Twenty-Nine: Away in a Manger

"Wanker." Spike ignores my command, unwraps the candy cane, and begins to go down on it.

Really.

He sits across from me, where Wesley with his book, Gunn with his magazine, and Cordelia with her daytime television will not notice his exploits, and performs the kind of oral act that gets U.S. presidents into trouble on the defenseless candy
cane.

-Part Thirty: Let is Snow

I turn to face him, noticing the red slime is still plastering his hair down. The prospect of showering brings a whole new and pleasant image, but he’s still grinning and looking at my abandoned projectile.

‘I didn’t know you could do *that* with a jello mold.’

-Part Thirty-One: Home For Christmas

-Part Thirty-Two: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

"-and if I don't get laid soon I'm gonna rip your goddamn lungs out, so you're gonna let me tie you up with whatever's on hand, and you're gonna bloody well *like* it!"  I finish emphatically.

-Part Thirty-Three: Male Bonding

Gunn waves his axe threateningly in my direction. "And next time, *warn* somebody when you've got the boss tied to the bed!"

-Part Thirty-Four: Coitus Interruptus

Spike is picking up chunks of dead cow with little pointy forks and tossing them into the pot. Which would be disturbing enough in and of itself if he weren't also making helpless "moo" noises, and then cackling with glee as the meat slowly cooks. One more round of "Die, you sodding bovine!" and I'm going to need another bottle of #52.

-Part Thirty-Five: Mating Rituals

I know it, because once, in the blue-gray dawn when my alarm clock rang, shrill and harsh, and too far away from my fist, I murmured, "sweetheart, turn off the alarm." I don't remember anything after that, actually, but there was a "Sony"
imprint on my forehead for three days afterward.

-Part Thirty-Six: In Heat

He holds up the first lobster.  "Wait!  I must love you and stroke you and shag you repeatedly."

"It wasn't really repeat-"

"Shuddup."  He then proceeds to engage the lobsters in a disturbing gymnastic ritual that can only be described as "lobster sex."

-Part Thirty-Seven: Comparison Shopping

Yeah.  Gonna... well, I dunno, but I think I'll sleep first. Yeah.  Just a bit of a lay down, then I'll fuck Angelus. Or he'll fuck me.  Yeah.  'Cause I dunno if he'd let me fuck him.  I mean, I have, but that's not to say that Angelus is all 'oh, William, fuck me.' Though that's soundin' kinda tasty.

-Part Thirty-Eight: No Accounting For Taste

I walk up and down the length of the car and raise my eyes to my Sire.  "Is this some sort of-"

"If I hear the words "penis metaphor" emit from your pretty little mouth, Spike, I'll rip your lungs out."  He runs his fingertip along the side of the car and gives a nostalgic little sigh.  "It's not as shiny as my old car."

You'd think he'd been fucking that car, the way he carries on.

-Part Thirty-Nine: Road Rage

He's breathing, all wiggly and twitchy and soon to be putty in my hands. This will all be over in a moment. I just need one good line... Something even the romantic idiot will appreciate.

"Peaches, you're significantly shorter with your knees behind your ears."

Damn I'm good.

-Part Forty: The Need For Speed