Buffy dreamed. She stood on a beach, the warm sun bathing her as she looked at the ocean, at the waves gently lapping the sand at her feet, at the whitecaps farther out. She wrapped her arms around her waist and closed her eyes, smelling the salt in the air, hearing the sound of gulls, the faint laughter of children.
A shadow fell across her path. Two strong, firm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a muscular chest.
She sighed, smiling, content in her lover's arms, knowing that she was safe and nothing would harm her there.
"I love you, Buffy," he whispered, his breath in her ear sending a shiver through her, the warmth of his embrace making her stomach tighten.
Slowly she turned in his arms, pillowing her head on his linen covered chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, her fingers kneading his back. "Oh, Angel," she murmured, placing a kiss on his chest.
She could hear his heart beating, feel it thudding quickly beneath her cheek and she smiled.
Suddenly the sun disappeared and night fell. A cold wind blew across the beach, making her shiver and clutch her lover tighter. She looked up, puzzled, and couldn't see his face. "Angel?" No breath touched her. No heartbeat sounded save her own.
"Angel's dead," a voice rang in her ears. "He's in Hell, rotting."
She whimpered and squinted into the darkness. "Where'd the sun go?" she begged, helplessly.
The darkness before her cleared and she looked up into Spike's face. "Vampires can't survive in the sun, luv." His arms tightened around her, his hands cupping her bottom to lift her against him.
"Spike," she said softly, acknowledging him, his presence in her arms. "Does this mean you're Angel's replacement?"
He grinned and swooped down for a kiss. "Well, can't rightly kill you after all the lovely shagging."
For a split second she was outraged, then she laughed and returned his kiss. Finally, panting for breath, she pulled back and smiled up at him. "Thank you for setting me free."
"Any time, Slayer, any time."
~~~~~
Buffy woke with a start, her dream still bouncing around her brain. Groaning at the burning in her eyes, the muted pounding in her head, she struggled to sit up, then glanced down at the male body she had been sprawled across.
When had he slipped into bed with her?
Frowning and rubbing her temples, Buffy glanced at the clock and winced at the time. Two fifteen in the afternoon. Since work started at six in the morning...Shit.
Groaning again, she slipped from the bed onto shaky legs and found a pair of shorts on the floor. Slipping them on and tucking her t-shirt in loosely, she grabbed her sandals and slipped out to call work.
*****
Twenty minutes, one apologetic phone call and two tylenol later, Buffy sat on the couch, staring across the room. Her headache was fading as she worked her way through the memories of the night before and the remaining images of the dream.
She had begun to make her peace with what she had done. She had finally let Angel go. Angel. Thinking his name no longer sent shards of pain or bolts of panic screaming through her.
Just sorrow. A deep sorrow. But she could live with it.
Spike had shown her the way. He had forced her to confront the truth of what she had done and confrontation could only lead to acceptance and then to healing. It was still going to take time and she might never fully forgive herself and she'd certainly never forget, but she had made the turn.
Maybe it was time to make another turn...towards home.
Buffy's stomach growled and she realized that she was truly hungry for the first time in a long time. Going to the kitchen she made herself a sandwich and found an apple that only had a few bad spots in it.
*****
At sundown, Buffy set down last month's Cosmo and glanced down the hall. A few moments later her bedroom door opened and Spike shuffled out, yawning.
"There you are, Slayer," he said grumpily.
Buffy stifled a giggle. "Not everyone wants to sleep the day away."
"Aren't we the cheerful one," he replied sourly, slumping down next to her on the couch and yawning again.
Slightly amazed, Buffy realized he was right. She did feel rather...well, if not cheerful, at least not too sad. "I feel okay," she admitted, a hint of a smile crossing her lips.
"You must have had one great dream," he growled crossly. "I woke up once to find you squeezing me to death."
She couldn't help it. She had to giggle and the giggle turned into full fledged laughter. "You're already dead, silly."
Spike stared at her, then shook his head. "You've gone insane, haven't you? Well, nothing to fear. I know how to deal with insane females. A good shag now and then..."
""What did you say?" Buffy interrupted.
"Huh? A good shag?"
"That's what you said in my dream." Her eyes narrowed. "I wonder just how much was really a dream..."
"Going psychic on me?" He winced at the thought.
"Well, I do have these prophetic dreams." Slowly, she described her dream, struggling to remember details and trying to analyze what they meant. "And day turned to night and Angel turned into you."
"Did we fight?"
Buffy shook her head. "No...I said something like...'are you his replacement' and you said something about 'not being able to kill me after shagging me'." She blushed at the implications of the word. "Then we kissed."
"Okay. Interesting." Spike's brow furrowed and he looked at her, at the calmness and peace he could see in her face and body language. "What about the voice that said he was in Hell?"
A frown crossed her face and she dropped her eyes. "It wasn't you. I think...I think it was a part of me trying to drag me back to the way I've been...to the safety of not having to deal with what I did," she answered slowly, in a small voice. "It was trying to shock me back into my stupor."
"And I set you free?"
Smiling, Buffy nodded.
Disturbed, Spike rose and began to pace. "What if I don't want that kind of responsibility? What if I don't want to be Angel's replacement? And what the fuck does that mean anyway? In your bed, in guarding you, protecting your back, saving you from big, bad vampires? I am a big, bad vampire, remember?"
A flash of anger shot through her. "Hey, you're assuming a Hell of a lot here, mister. I may not WANT you in my bed or protecting my back."
Spike stopped pacing and stared at her, then snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, right."
Rolling her eyes, Buffy replied under her breath, "Ego much?"
"I have my own problems, luv."
"Yeah, like, where's Drusilla?"
At her pointed question, Spike glowered at her, then stormed out of the trailer, letting the door bang shut behind him.
"Oops."
Fully unrepentant, Buffy began to whistle the tune to "Bitch" and headed for the bathroom and a relaxing shower and pampering session.
He'd be back. She just had this feeling...