~Title: A Revealing Dream
~Author: LuckyStarz
~Summary: Buffy has a dream about Spike, but what does it mean? Will she figure it out in time?
~Chapters: 4
~Rating: PG-13
~Pairings: Buffy/Spike
~Category: Drama/Romance
~Spoilers: Mostly up through "The Gift" and a little beyond.
~Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. I borrow them for my own enjoyment.
~Email: PunkPrincess41@insightbb.com or spikeslove15@yahoo.com
~A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed!! I really appreciate you taking the time to say something about my story. This is the second chapter of a fanfiction that I hope will be at least four, so stay tuned and I hope you like it!
Anne K.
Chapter Two: Dreaming
Buffy awoke with a sharp pain in her neck. She lifted her head from where it was resting and opened her eyes. The bleary form of Spike’s face swam into view and she had to blink several times to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Panic seized her and she tried to move away from him. She found with horror that she was straddling his lap and his arms were wrapped around her waist, keeping her from moving off him. She tried to squirm free, but that had the opposite effect on the sleeping vampire. His arms tightened around her, forcing her head back down to his chest. He grunted in his sleep but didn’t wake.
“Spike. Spike, let go!” Her hands came up and pushed hard against his bare chest. She ignored the slight tingling of her fingers where they touched his cold skin and shouted his name again.
Finally his eyes fluttered open. As they focused on her, a slow smile spread across his face. “Morning, pet.”
“Let go of me!” She replied and shoved at him again. His arms came away from her and she struggled to get off the chair. She stood up and groaned as the feeling came back to her legs.
“What’s your hurry, luv?” Spike asked as he watched her.
She shot him a glare over her shoulder as she searched for her clothes.
My, this was becoming a new morning routine, wasn’t it? Wake up and find the creature you’re supposed to hate next to you, scramble about looking for your clothes, then slam out of his crypt and try to forget the whole thing.
Spike stretched in the chair and chuckled. “This how it’s gonna be, then?”
Wiggling into her jeans, Buffy glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You come to my place late at night, we shag, you wake up in a panic, then go home cursing my bloody name?”
“This is *not* going to be an everyday thing.”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Well, an every *night* thing.” She pulled her shirt over her head and sat down to tie her boots.
Spike stood up and pulled on his clothes. “Right then, so whenever you have an itch you can’t scratch you’ll come to me?”
Buffy frowned. “No.” She had finished tying her boots and stood up, flipping her hair behind her shoulders as she looked at him.
He came to stand in front of her and gestured around them. “What’s this then, pet?”
Deep in her mind, Buffy had been wondering the same thing. Why did she come to him when he was everything she was supposed to hate? Worse than that, why did she *want* to come to him?
She shrugged and said nonchalantly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is nothing.” She gestured between them and to the room. “*This* was a mistake. One that will never happen again.”
Spike felt as if she’d just slapped him. No, it felt more like she’d just driven a stake through his heart. A mistake? How could she say that now after all she’d said last night?
He straightened and his eyes hardened. “If this is your idea of a game, Slayer, I’d watch your back. I don’t like being played with.”
She sneered at him. “What’re you going to do, Spike? Scold me?”
In response, he grabbed her roughly and slammed her body against his. His mouth crushed hers in a brutal kiss.
Buffy was so startled by his reaction, she didn’t have time to act. As his mouth assaulted hers, her body responded and went limp. Her mind, however, had had its fill of this abuse. It forced her arms to shove against him and her head to pull back.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned, every word stressed by her anger.
Spike smirked as he noted the shaking of her body. He’d rattled her just enough to get her memory back. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that, Slayer. I could feel you. I know you want it.”
She backed away from him, her eyes shooting green and gold fire. “You can’t *feel* anything.” Her voice was low and dangerous. “You don’t have a soul. Without a soul, you can’t feel.”
His jaw was set, his eyes dark and cloudy with anger. He was trying desperately not to show the tumult of emotions that he *was* feeling. She was hurting him more than he’d like her to know. Her jibes about the lack of his soul always made him feel like there was only the demon part of him. Sometimes she didn’t see the man buried underneath all the evil. The man that was frantically trying to overcome the demon and make her see him.
The hots and colds of her behavior confused and angered him. He knew there was a reason why she came back to him. Sure, the first time he could’ve written it off as a weak moment or something like that. But when she came *back*, now that meant something.
However, it appeared that the reason she’d come back was going to be well hidden from him. He wondered if *she* even knew what she was doing. But he’d had enough of her emotional roller coaster for one day.
“Guess you’d better go then,” he said quietly.
A slight, barely noticeable nod was his only answer. She walked briskly to the door and thrust it open, then stalked out into the gray dawn of early morning.
Spike heaved a long sigh and sat down in the chair. He couldn’t make sense of what was going on between them. It was so much simpler when they hated each other. Of course, he didn’t like that scenario nearly as much as the one he wished for every second of every day. The one where Buffy would realize her feelings for him and come running to him. She’d throw her arms around him and kiss him, laughing in his ear that she was so naive for not realizing sooner that she loved him.
He ran his hands through his hair. “Stupid chit doesn’t even know what she wants anymore.” He stood up and descended the stairs to his bed. He flopped down on his stomach and laid his hand on the spot she had slept that first night. As his eyelids fluttered closed, he mumbled to himself, “She bloody well better figure it out soon.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Buffy stormed through the graveyard, kicking herself for another night spent with her enemy. Well, technically he wasn’t her enemy anymore. After all, he had been helping her and the Scoobies defeat the beasties in Sunnydale. But that didn’t make it okay for her to sleep with him...twice.
Although, she thought with a smile, the experience wasn’t completely of the bad.
She shook her head in wonder. There were times when she forgot he was a vampire. He could make her feel so strongly sometimes it scared her. Just being near him was enough to send her into a whirlwind of emotions. She tried to hide them from him of course. The Slayer was believed to be the embodiment of strength. If she let him see what he was doing to her, he would have a power over her that no one was supposed to have.
As it was, he already seemed to have a certain thrall over her. He could make her feel weak and powerful simultaneously with just a kiss. He could make her melt and freeze with the touch of his hand. And when he looked at her, with his eyes baring every silent secret, he could make her feel lost and at the same time feel as if she had just come home.
In the end, it didn’t matter. The important thing was that she was alive when she was near him.
Without realizing it, Buffy had reached her house. She stood again in front of the door, wondering if Dawn would believe another bald-faced lie. She doubted it, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t tell her sister the truth. Although, Dawn did like Spike...
She twisted the knob and walked inside. Expecting her little sister to come dashing in from somewhere, Buffy braced herself. Nothing happened. The house was silent.
She shut the door and walked to the stairs. “Dawn?”
“Hey, Buffy,” Willow’s voice called down to her. She appeared at the top of the stairs and waved. She started down the stairs, but caught the tired look etched on Buffy’s face and asked, “Rough night?”
Buffy smirked and thought, well if you call sleeping on an armchair straddling a vampire rough, then yeah, I’d say it was a fairly rough night. Of course, she didn’t say that. Instead, she nodded. “Yeah, I’m beat. Where’s Dawnie?”
“I sent her over to Janice’s early this morning when you didn’t come home. She was a little worried about you,” Willow said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She paused and looked her friend up and down with a concerned expression. “I was too. Where were you last night, Buff?”
“Patrolling.”
“All night?” Willow asked skeptically.
Damn, thought Buffy, guess Willow’s a little harder to convince.
“Mostly,” Buffy replied with a small shrug. She hoped her friend wouldn’t push her for details, but Willow wasn’t satisfied yet with her answer.
“Buffy, you don’t have to lie to me,” Willow said. “I mean, if you are lying, which I don’t think you would do...”
Buffy sighed and pulled Willow to the couch. “If you really want to know what happened, I’ll tell you, but it’s not a big deal.”
Willow nodded. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I mean, you didn’t seem all Catastrophe-Buffy.”
“I was out patrolling, just like I said,” Buffy started as her mind worked on an excuse. “Spike showed up and helped me. The fight got a little rough and I guess I blacked out because when I woke up I was in his crypt.”
Willow gasped. “Buffy, are you okay? I mean, what happened? How many demons were you fighting? Why did Spike take you back to his crypt? Oh, Buffy, he didn’t...do anything to you...did he?”
“Whoa, Will, calm down. One question at a time,” Buffy said and held up a hand in protest.
“Sorry,” Willow said with a blush and a shy smile. “I’m just...well, concerned about you.”
Buffy smiled warmly. “I know. But I’m fine, Will. See?” She stood up and turned in a circle. “No broken bones, nothing.” She sat back down.
“Tell me what happened,” Willow said. “I mean, when you didn’t come home at dinner Dawnie told me there were a lot of beasties around. I didn’t think there were *that* many, though.”
“Yeah, they just keep on coming. Guess that’s the drawback of living on a Hellmouth.”
Willow nodded. “So, what happened?”
Buffy laughed nervously as she said, “There really isn’t much to tell.” She caught the famous “resolve face” from her friend and knew Willow wouldn’t stop pestering her until she heard the story. She dropped her eyes to the floor and said, “At first it started as just me and a vamp. He gave a pretty good fight, but naturally, I dusted him. Then a few of his friends came to take me on, but they were soon piles of dust too. For a little while after that it was just me and Mr. Pointy. Suddenly I was surrounded by vamps and demons. I figured I could take them and started going at it, but they kept on coming. I’d stake one and it seemed another would spring from its dusty remains. That’s when Spike showed up. He helped me kill most of them, but still they kept coming.”
She hesitated as if to remember what had happened, but shook her head. “I don’t remember what happened after that. I woke up in Spike’s armchair and freaked out. He somehow managed to calm me down before I staked him and explained what had happened. He said I got knocked out by a demon carrying a big club and he had to carry me out of the mob. We were closer to his crypt than my house, and since the pack was following us, he decided to take me there instead of home. He patched me up and left me to sleep, but he swore he didn’t do anything to me.”
As she finished her story, Buffy’s eyes rose to meet Willow’s and judge her reaction. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding when she saw the broad, frightened expression on her friend’s face. The fear meant that Willow had bought the story. If she hadn’t, there would have been doubt written all over her face.
Buffy was somewhat relieved that her stories had fooled another person. Willow was her best friend, though, and it hurt to lie to her. She wondered how much longer she’d have to keep lying. She wanted to believe that this was the last time, but that damn little voice was back. It was still telling her that she’d need to feel again and the only person who could make her feel was Spike. She stopped all thoughts of him as Willow started to speak.
“Wow, I...Buffy, are you sure you’re okay? You look exhausted.”
“I’m okay, Will,” Buffy insisted. “A little tired, but I haven’t gotten much sleep the past few nights.”
Willow nodded. “Do you think maybe something’s going to happen?” Her green eyes were big with excitement. If there was something going on, Willow was going to get right in the middle of it. She was always ready to help the Slayer with her useful magic.
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t think so. Nothing really weird has happened yet.”
“What about all those demons and vamps that were after you?” Willow insisted. “Maybe all the bad-guy activity means something.” She halted and, if possible, her eyes got bigger. “Do you think the Hellmouth could be opening again?”
“I really don’t think it means anything, Will,” Buffy said again, hoping Willow would just drop it. She didn’t want this becoming a big thing because then Willow would find out she lied. “Maybe there was a new nest somewhere.”
“Yeah, okay,” Willow replied and smiled. She could sense that talking about this made Buffy uncomfortable, and her friend had already been through a stressful night. She didn’t want to make it worse. “Why don’t you go up to bed? I’ll call you down when Dawnie gets home.”
Buffy smiled gratefully. “Yeah, thanks Will. I need some rest.” She hugged her friend and headed up the stairs to her room. She changed out of her work uniform and into her pajamas, then slipped into bed and curled up on her side. With only a few brief thoughts of the familiar blond vampire, sleep overtook her.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
She had figured it out. Sometime between relating the story she had made up to Dawn and meeting Giles for her patrol, she had figured it out. She was using Spike.
At first, the thought had seemed crazy to her. If anything, *he* was using her. But when she actually thought about it, everything was her fault. She had gone to see him, and she hadn’t stopped him from kissing her, which she could have easily done. She didn’t stop him when kissing led to other things either, which she also could have done with no trouble. It all boiled down to the fact that she was being selfish and caring only about her feelings. What she was doing to him was wrong, and she had to stop.
“I think that’s about it for tonight,” Giles said as they finished their third sweep of the cemetery. “There doesn’t seem to be much activity. Are you sure this is where you encountered the nest?”
Buffy turned away from him and continued walking. To save herself from later embarrassment, she’d had to tell Giles the same story she’d told Dawn and Willow. She knew if she didn’t, Willow would blurt it out and the whole thing would go kablooey. Naturally, he was concerned and offered to help her with the patrol. She had agreed only so it wouldn’t seem conspicuous. After her “blackout” the other night she thought it would seem too strange if she didn’t want some back-up.
“Yeah, Giles, I’m sure.” She turned back to him and shrugged. “Maybe they decided to lie low for a night. I mean, I did kick their asses pretty good last time.”
“And got yourself knocked out, I might add,” Giles scolded lightly. He approached her and smiled warmly. “You do seem to have recovered quite well, however.”
She smiled back. “Quick healing skills are a big bonus to the Slayer package.”
Giles nodded and looked about them. There were no vampires or demons of any kind lurking about the calm graveyard. In fact, they were the only ones there. He sighed and took his glasses off to rub them on his shirt. “Well, perhaps they are in hiding. We’ll keep an eye out on this area. Right now I think we should both head on home.”
“Actually, I think I’ll do one more quick sweep,” Buffy said and started off. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything, but she knew Giles too well.
“We’ve done three already, Buffy. I don’t think there’s anything out there.”
“Just to be safe,” Buffy replied and continued walking. “You go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow and let you know what I find.”
Giles placed his glasses back on his nose and sighed. He was happy that Buffy had gotten back into the routine after her trip from Heaven. For quite some time she had been miserable and frightened. Now it appeared she was acting more like her old self. It worried him a little that she seemed overzealous about her patrolling duties. She was still a young woman and needed rest; but she was also a stubborn young woman who did not do anything unless it was what she wanted to do. He watched her walk off into the dark and turned to head home. She would be fine.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“Spike, it’s over,” Buffy said. “Whatever we had...if we had anything to begin with...is over. I’m sorry, but it’s just not fair to you.” She frowned. Not fair to him? What did she care if it wasn’t fair to him? She wasn’t supposed to care...
She shook her head and sighed. “Why doesn’t this sound right no matter how I say it?” She wondered out loud as she headed in the direction of his crypt. After figuring out that she was using him, she had promised herself to end it tonight. Now all she had to do was figure out how to say it. It shouldn’t be a problem. After all, she had no feelings for him, right?
It *was* a problem, she admitted as she stood in front of the crypt. For some reason she didn’t want to tell him it was over. Mostly it was because she knew all the feelings that flowed through her were caused by him. Not seeing him would mean not feeling. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with being empty again, but she had already made up her mind. Using Spike was not an option.
She pushed open the door and peeked inside. “Spike?” She waited for an answer, but there was no sound from within. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Spike, are you here?”
The crypt was silent. Buffy looked about her for some sign that he had recently been there. Everything looked the same as it had when she’d left that morning, minus the blond vampire on the armchair.
Cautiously she approached the stairs that lead down to his bed. She really didn’t want to go down there. It was one thing to see the chair they had slept on; it was quite another to see the bed where he slept every day. Somehow the bed just seemed more intimate to her.
“Spike?” She yelled down the stairs and prayed for an answer. Again there was none. Her heartbeat accelerated as she began climbing down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she averted her eyes from his bed, focusing them anywhere but the scene of the first crime.
He was nowhere to be found. She searched everywhere, even finally chancing a look at the bed. It appeared that he had only gone out for the night. Most of his clothes were still scattered about the floor, and his bed was rumpled and unmade.
She smiled as she noted that it looked the same way as it had the first morning she’d left him. She wondered if he’d slept in it at all. Carried by her wayward thoughts, she moved closer to the bed and brushed her fingertips over the smooth white sheets. She suddenly felt very tired; almost as if she hadn’t slept in two days, which wasn’t really far from the truth.
Looking about her one last time, Buffy decided that he’d have to come back sometime. She crawled into his bed and snuggled down in the sheets, breathing in the rich, leathery scent of Spike. She drifted to sleep with a smile, thinking of his strong, hard body beside hers.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
There was laughter and music all around her. People she didn’t recognize were swirling around in a sea of bright colors and smiling faces. She looked about for something familiar, but everything looked foreign. Even the dress she wore was strange.
Abruptly, the music stopped and a man in a gray suit stepped up to a platform. He smiled at the crowd and waved about a tattered piece of paper in the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” He shouted over the rumbling of protesting voices. “Our very own William the Bloody has decided to grace us with another of his famous poems!”
William the Bloody. The name rang in Buffy’s head. She knew that name. It wasn’t what he was called now...but back then...
“Please, I...it’s not finished yet,” a soft, polite voice objected.
Buffy stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck, trying to see the source of the voice. She knew that voice too.
The man in the gray suit began to read the poem out loud. As the crowd stilled their movements, Buffy forced her way to the front and her eyes went wide at the sight of him.
He almost looked the same, she noticed as she gaped at him. He was sleek and muscular, with the same platinum blond hair she remembered. His face was finely carved, and his lips were full and soft. As he turned away from the man reading his poem, she looked into his eyes. Yes, they were the same too; that startling blue that sent a shock down her spine. The only difference she could see was the absence of his tight black pants and his leather duster. He was now dressed in brown slacks, a slightly wrinkled white shirt, and a rumpled brown jacket. He turned his head away from her and she frowned.
She followed his gaze to a tall woman with curly brown hair. She was standing a few feet away from the crowd of people, hiding her face behind an intricate-looking fan. As she caught William looking at her, she blushed and hurried into the other room.
William followed her, paying no heed to the laughter that had filled the room as the man in the gray suit finished his poem.
Buffy pushed her way through the crowd as the music started up again and the people began dancing. She stopped at the doorway and poked her head in, trying to stay as much out of view as possible.
William approached the woman and smiled softly. “Hello, Cecily.”
She looked up at him, startled. “Oh, hello, William.”
He felt awkward standing in front of her, so he sat down beside her. “Did you like the poem?”
“No, William. And I don’t like that you wrote it about me, either,” Cecily replied and turned her head away from him. She brought the fan to her face as she stared out the window, willing him to go away.
He was momentarily stunned. He quickly recovered with nervous laughter as he said, “It’s not one of my better poems, I’ll admit. But it’s the feeling in those words that’s important, not the words themselves,” William told her softly.
Cecily stood up and said angrily, “I don’t want you to write about me ever again, William. Don’t speak to me anymore, either.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger and she fanned herself vigorously to cool them. “Good-bye, William.” She turned away from him, lifted her dress, and stomped out of the room.
William was so startled by her reaction, all he could do was sit and stare at the spot where she had been sitting. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. He blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Spike, are you okay?” Buffy asked as she entered the room.
William’s head snapped up at her voice. He wiped the wetness from his cheek and stared at her in confusion. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong person...”
Buffy smiled. “Sorry. You remind me of someone.”
“I wish to be left alone, thank you,” William said and sniffled. He looked away from her and waited, folding his hands in his lap and commanding himself not to cry.
Buffy ignored him and sat down beside him. “Did you write that poem for her?” She asked as she watched the people in the other room twirling about on the dance floor.
“Y-Yes, I did.” William was becoming uncomfortable. He had no idea who this person was, yet she seemed to have no intention of leaving him alone.
“It was a lovely poem,” she said as she looked back at him. “Except for that effulgent part. What kind of a word is that anyway?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He coughed to cover it and resumed his decorum as he replied, “It means glistening.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why didn’t you just use that then?”
He shrugged and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. This woman was making him nervous. “Nothing rhymes with it, you see.”
A small frown knitted her brow. “What’s bothering you, William?”
He glanced up at her and was momentarily distracted by her eyes. They were a beautiful swirling mixture of greens and golds surrounded by a fringe of long black lashes. “You have lovely eyes,” he murmured. Realizing what he’d just said to a complete stranger, William gasped and stood up. “I really must be going.”
She reached out a hand and grasped his arm. “My name is Buffy Summers, William.” She let go of his arm and shrugged. “In case you were wondering.”
He nodded and said, “Yes, well I do beg your pardon, Ms. Summers, but I’m terribly late.” With that said, he briskly walked out of the room.
Buffy was intrigued, to say the least, by this old-fashioned form of Spike. He seemed almost nothing like the tough, bloodsucking fiend she knew. But strangely she understood that this *was* Spike, before he was a vampire. These were his days as a human.
She watched him leave the party and lifted her dress to follow him. He had definitely seemed unnerved by her presence, and this amazed her more. She had never known Spike to be shy and well-mannered. But then again, she reminded herself with a smile, William wasn’t a vampire.
She caught sight of him just as he ducked into an alley. Quietly she followed him, not wanting him to know she was there. She wanted to get a little background information on this William the Bloody. She had always wondered what Spike was like before he was a vampire. Now was her chance to find out. She slipped into the alley behind him and hid behind a large wooden crate.
“Hello, dearheart,” a woman’s sultry voice whispered.
William started and whipped in the direction of the sound. His eyes were wide with fear and his face was tear-stained. He watched as a dark-haired woman stepped out of the shadows.
“Don’t be afraid of little old me,” the woman said with a smile. “I won’t bite you unless you want me to.”
William backed away from her. “Please, I don’t have any money with me right now...”
“Shh...silly boy. I’m not here for your money.” She came towards him and stared for a long time deep into his eyes.
“I-I must be going. I have a p-previous engagement...”
The woman snarled. “You can’t leave yet, darling. I’m not finished yet.”
He swallowed as she took another step closer to him, her dark brown eyes boring holes into his. “W-What do you want?” He asked quietly in a shaky voice.
An evil smile curved her ruby lips. “Your soul.” Suddenly her face contorted. Her forehead slanted into ridges above her eyes, and fangs elongated in her mouth. She hissed and took another step closer to him.
Buffy sprang out from behind the crate and tackled her. Both women fell face-down in the dirt. Buffy rolled over and jumped up, crouching into a fighting stance. As the vampire started to struggle to her feet, Buffy planted a swift kick in her side, knocking her down again.
The vampire rolled away and stood up, looking around for her attacker. When she saw the small blonde girl in front of her, she laughed hysterically.
Buffy’s eyes went wide as she recognized the face of William’s attacker. A sneer curved her lips. “Drusilla.”
The vampire stopped laughing and stared incredulously at the young girl. “Have we met, dear?” She asked.
“Not yet,” Buffy replied and kicked out with her right leg. She connected with Drusilla’s stomach and doubled the vampire over.
The dress she was wearing hampered her movements. With a hard tug, the fabric was ripped away. She stood now in white pantaloons and the ripped top of the old-fashioned dress.
Drusilla came at her with her teeth barred. She snarled and swung out with her left arm. Buffy blocked the blow, but wasn’t quick enough to stop Drusilla’s right fist from connecting with her stomach. She grunted in pain, and aimed a high-kick at the vampire’s head. Drusilla ducked and just barely missed the toe of Buffy’s shoe.
The vampire and the Vampire Slayer fought for some time. Drusilla was not as skilled as Buffy, but the demon inside her human form would not let her give up. William had backed into the farthest corner from the two fighting women. He watched them with mouth agape. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that the dark-haired woman wanted to kill him, and the blonde woman was trying to save him. Silently he cheered for the blonde.
Sometime later, Buffy was getting tired of the preamble. When the fight had begun, she’d felt as if she hadn’t fought in years. Now her muscles were beginning to ache from the blows Drusilla was managing to get past her blocks.
As the vampire came at her again, Buffy knocked her to the side and pulled the stake from her waistband. She was a little amazed that she *had* a stake with her, having been wearing a dress and all, but she ignored the slight shock and held it at the ready. Her eyes fixed on the dark-haired demon as she advanced.
Drusilla saw the stake and immediately became wary. She too was beginning to feel the sting of the bruises that would be there tomorrow...if she lived. Cautiously she watched Buffy as she approached, the stake held high in her right hand. When she was close enough, Drusilla spun about and kicked out with her right leg. Buffy pulled her hand back just in time and the blow cut through the air with a whoosh!
Carried by the momentum of her blow, Drusilla spun around. Her back was exposed just long enough for Buffy to react and plunge the stake through her. Drusilla screeched and turned to dust.
Buffy heaved a great, tired sigh and brushed the dusty remains from her clothes. She tucked the stake into her waistband again and slowly walked toward William. He was still cowering in the corner, shocked by what he’d just witnessed.
“What...How did you...” He stuttered, unable to form a sentence in the midst of his whirling thoughts.
“Vampire,” Buffy replied, “and it’s my job.”
William was confused. “Your job? You mean, you kill...vampires...for a living?”
She shrugged and pulled him away from the wall. “It’s what I do.”
“I don’t understand. You mean to tell me that woman was a vampire?” He shook his head in disbelief. “But vampires don’t exist. They’re a myth...”
“Oh they’re real all right,” Buffy interrupted. “Most people like to imagine they’re not, though. I guess it makes their lives less frightening that way.”
William considered this for a moment before he said, “Yes, I suppose it does.”
Buffy stared at him for a moment, fighting the urge to fall into his arms. He was so cute and helpless like this; not at all like Spike. She shook her head. He *is* Spike, she reminded herself. He’s the same Spike that tried to kill you and now claims he loves you. He’s the same Spike with a chip in his head who wouldn’t hurt you now even if he didn’t have it. He’s the same Spike who can make you crazy with frustration and just plain crazy.
“Ms. Summers?”
She blinked back the tears that were on the verge of falling and forced a smile. “Call me Buffy.”
He smiled shyly. “Buffy. I-I just wanted to say, um, thank you.”
Emotion overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and the tears leaked out, racing down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was crying, but she couldn’t stop. Her head was spinning with everything she was feeling. There were so many emotions filling her she couldn’t sort through them. Most were familiar: sadness, happiness, longing. But there was one that she couldn’t identify, although it almost seemed as if it had been there for some time.
“Buffy, are you all right?” William asked and placed a hand on her shoulder.
She opened her eyes and gave him a shaky smile. “Fine. Just a little...overwhelmed.”
Concern filled his deep blue eyes. “You’re shaking.”
“That usually happens when I cry,” Buffy told him and wrapped her arms around her chest.
On impulse, William gently pulled her into his arms. Slightly shocked by this, he nearly apologized, but she melted into him and he forgot his words.
He should have been wary. After all, he had just met this woman and now here he was, hugging her in his arms. There was a feeling of familiarity between them, and holding her like this felt right. He could also feel a stronger emotion rooted at the very core of him. It was so profound that it seemed to be his essence of life.
“I feel like I know you,” he murmured as he rested his chin on her head.
She smiled and pressed her cheek against his chest. She felt his heart beating and a thrill of joy seeped into her. “You do.”
William chuckled. “How can I already know you when I only just met you?”
Buffy leaned her head back and stared into his eyes. She could see the emotion there, and felt it take root within herself. She understood now what the undefinable feeling was. Her heart swelled. “Do you know what you’re feeling right now, William?” She asked, avoiding his question for the moment.
A serene smile spread across his face. “I feel many things: contentment, happiness, love.”
“That’s the one,” she said with a soft smile. “You feel you know me because you love me.”
“But how can I? I hardly know you, Buffy,” William said as confusion knitted his brow.
“Have you ever felt that something was just right?” Buffy asked. “You don’t even have to wonder why you feel it, you just know that it’s perfect?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what love is like. You don’t have to understand why you feel it. All you need to know is that it’s right.”
His blue eyes sparkled as he bent down to kiss her. Mere inches away from her mouth, he whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you, Spike,” Buffy whispered back and pressed her lips against his. She felt her heart expand and her head sang the words she had feared for so long: I love Spike.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
“Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.”
He was calling her name. Somewhere close by he was calling to her; beckoning her to follow him. She could not see him anymore. Everything had gone dark. She reached out and tried to feel around in the darkness, but all she felt was empty space. Spike was gone.
Buffy whimpered and rolled onto her back. She suddenly felt cold and alone without his presence beside her.
“Buffy.”
Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. “Spike,” she moaned helplessly. She could feel him nearby, but the darkness that engulfed her would not let her reach him.
Ice-cold fingers gripped her flesh and she gasped. Her eyes flew open and the blackness vanished. It was replaced by the familiar dimness of Spike’s crypt.
Slowly she turned her head and her eyes met his. A mixture of relief and embarrassment filled her. She blushed and turned away.
“Are you all right, Buffy?” Spike asked in concern as he let go of her arm. “You were making horrible noises and thrashing about. Scared me a bit. I called your name, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Just a bad dream,” Buffy replied nervously.
Spike sat down beside her on the bed, confusion replacing the concern on his face. “What’re you doing sleeping in my bed, pet?”
Buffy bit her lower lip. Such a good question, Spike...
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