What a Trade!!!

"Listen," said Andrew, beginning a speech. "I've read about you in the Watcher's Diaries, that book Giles always carries around. You were a bad mother-fucker, weren't you? Like Billy Idol!"

"Well, yeah," said Spike.

"But before that, what were you? When you were a human?"

"I was a writer. A damn good one! Better than fuckin' Willy Shakespeare, if you ask me."

"You were a poet," corrected Andrew. "And one that everyone hated at that."

"Trying to get bloody killed?!" said Spike. "I got my chip out and you're pissin' off a vampire!"

"What I'm saying is, you were a Victorian-era nerd. Just like I'm a Bush-era nerd."

"Real pity, at least I can get laid now," said Spike.

"But what I'm saying," continued Andrew. "Is that I'm like you were before you were cool. Wouldn't you want the old you to have at least one night of happiness?"

Spike let the water drip against him as Buffy and Willow stepped away in the tight confines of the shower. "Yeah..."

"So do this for me. Let me have at least one, or two of the girls. Do this not for Andrew--but good old William the Non-Bloody."

Spike nodded. "Hell, you're right!" he stepped out of the shower. "I forgot about the little man out there, trying to get laid. Buffy, Red, you're his for the evening." With that, Spike wrapped a shower curtain around him and walked back into the hall, doing perhaps the kindest thing he'd ever do.

Andrew was left alone in the washroom with three naked women.

"What are we, sacks of meat to be traded?!" said Buffy. "We're independent!

"Come on, you were throwing yourself at Spike a few minutes ago. Why not throw yourself at me?"

Buffy nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll give you that, just because I need a good fuck before the fight tommorow. Willow, are you up to it? And Kennedy too?"

"Yes!" said both of the girls.

Andrew grinned.