Author: Pattyanne Hits: 542
Wake Up Call
(Original title: It's only a dream."
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Fic Notes: This is one of the first fics I wrote, so if it's no good then chalk it up to my inexperience.
Spike jumped down from the table when the door to the operating room banged open and the slayer walked in, dragging her overly large and bland faced boyfriend along with her.
His eyes locked with her's, mutual hatred burning in their gaze.
"Slayer!" he greeted her with a snarl. His face changed, showing the aspect of his demon. "Suit up, Harm," he added, not taking his eyes off Buffy.
Keeping her crossbow trained on Riley, Harmony vamped out.
The anticipation of what he was about to do made the pain of the surgery insignificant.
He'd waited so long, wanted it so badly that he could almost taste her blood from across the room.
And now...finally...it was about to happen. The chip was gone, and he was free to rip the slayers throat out.
This bitch was about to pay for every insult she'd ever flung at him, every blow she'd ever struck.
It was time to have his revenge, and to savor every drop of her blood.
Christ, he deserved it. He'd waited years for it. From the moment he'd seen her for the first time, he'd hated her with a white hot intensity.
He had developed elaborate plans to finish her off, and every time she managed to defeat him, his hate became stronger, until it was a living, breathing entity unto itself.
Every bad thing that had ever happened to him in this pissant town was Buffy's fault.
Beaten up on a regular basis, almost done in by a church organ, slapped into a wheelchair as he was forced to watch Angelus steal Drusilla.
Her fault. ALL her fault.
That truce he'd been forced to make with her when he'd needed her help disposing of Angel.
The truce that had cost him Drusilla...
She was the reason he'd done it in the first place, but in the end, it turned out to be a useless gesture. She'd wanted nothing more to do with him.
Buffy's fault.
He loathed her for forcing him to admit that he needed her help, for being so damn pretty, for making him notice it.
But his biggest hate was reserved for the ones who'd turned him into a fucking science experiment.
The Initiative's little microchip. Planted in his brain, destroying every thing that he'd been for over a century. Let's hear it for modern science!
Of course now the chip was out, and he was himself again.
She would pay. And pay...and pay...and pay...right along with her lunkheaded lover.
THAT one, he would kill slowly, painfully, and he would make Buffy watch as he did.
For every hour of agony that he had endured because of that chip, he would make the slayer's soldier boy suffer.
The humiliation of having to depend on her and her pals. The blinding pain that sliced through his skull every time he even looked cross-eyed at a human.
All her fault.
Standing here now, staring into her angry eyes, he felt he'd finally come full circle.
"Buffy," he said in a genial tone. "I swear, I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head's all clear now. No more bug zapper in my noggin."
Buffy showed no real reaction to his words. Staring back at him calmly, she said, "That means I get to kill you."
"You get to try."
For a moment they all stood still, without speaking. The silence was broken by Harmony accidentally firing the crossbow, sending the bolt straight into Riley's thigh.
"Oops," she said, as though she'd done nothing more than drop an egg on the floor.
Riley glared at her, sweating and trembling with pent up anger. Without a word, he lunged at her and they began to fight.
Spike had eyes only for Buffy. Jumping up onto the operating table again, he paused, wanting to savor the moment he'd been waiting for.
"At long..last."
Spike launched himself off the table at Buffy, taking her down to the floor.
Pinning her to the ground with his body, he dipped his head to her throat with his fangs bared....
Pain! The worst pain yet. Searing and agonizing.
He sat up, clutching his head, giving her the opening she needed.
She punched him, the flung him off of her, sending him skidding across floor. He ended up by slamming into a steel cabinet where the doctor was huddling.
Glaring murderously at the surgeon, Spike jumped to his feet and reached for the small metal dish where the chip had been discarded.
Seeing what was actually in the dish, he picked it up and turned on the frightened man. "A penny?"
The doctor shrugged nervously. "I told you I couldn't do it."
On the other side of the room, Riley suddenly stiffened and went crashing to the floor, upending tables and cabinets as he went.
Buffy screamed for the doctor, not caring that Spike and Harmony were running up the stairs.
Spike yanked his coat on as he ran through the cemetery towards his crypt, with Harmony bringing up the rear.
His hate for the slayer had now reached epic proportions.
"Buffy, Buffy, Buffy," he snapped. "Everywhere I turn, she's there. That nasty little face..that bouncing shampoo commercial hair...that whole sodding "holier than thou" attitude."
"Aren't we kind of UNholy by..." Harmony began to say."
Spike cut her off. "She follows me, you know. Tracks me down. I'm her pet project. Drive Spike around the bend. Makes every day a fresh round of torture," he ranted.
Infuriated, he picked up a fallen tombstone and hurled it the ground, shattering it into pieces.
Harmony jumped back. "Spike!"
He grabbed her by her upper arms, staring intently into her eyes. "You don't understand. I can't get away from her. She's everywhere. She's haunting me, Harmony."
He released her so suddenly that she nearly fell. His eyes were glazed and a little confused, but his voice was firm in it's conviction.
"This..has got...to end."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, he sat staring vacantly into space.
Harmony was gone, hopefully for good.
He hadn't spoken another word to her after they'd arrived at his crypt.
She'd tried to coax him into a better mood, offered to go out and make a fresh kill for him, then suggested that they take one more shot at killing Buffy before leaving Sunnydale permanently.
Spike had responded to none of it. He didn't WANT to be in a good mood, he wasn't the slightest bit hungry, and the thought of spending any time at all stuck in a car with Harmony made him want to stake himself and save Buffy the trouble.
When she finally realized that he wasn't even going to look at her, she'd taken herself out of staking range, knowing how volatile his temper was...especially when the slayer was thrown into the mix.
When the door crashed open, Spike smiled bitterly, not one bit surprised.
Getting slowly to his feet, he turned to face Buffy. A tiny, irritating bundle of aggravation, wearing a...he swallowed hard at the sight...snug tank top and a painted on pair of jeans.
'I hate her I hate her I hate her...' he chanted silently, almost a mantra. Say it often enough and maybe you'll start to believe it.
Yeah. Sure he would.
I REALLY DO HATE YOU, SLAYER. RIGHT DOWN TO THE MARROW OF YOUR SCRAWNY LITTLE BONES. I HATE ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. YOUR SMART ASS MOUTH...YOUR SELF-RIGHTEOUS ATTITUDE...THAT LONG GOLDEN BROWN HAIR THAT LOOKS SO DAMN SOFT AND TOUCHABLE AND...
His jaw clenched.
...AND SMELLS SO GOOD, LIKE WARM VANILLA PUDDING. I HATE THOSE BIG GREEN EYES THAT SEE THROUGH ME TO THE ESSENCE OF WHAT I AM...OF WHAT I'LL ALWAYS BE.
AND I HATE YOU FOR BEING SUCH A VISIBLE CONTRAST. FOR LOOKING SO SMALL AND DELICATE, TEASING ME WITH IT...MAKING ME WANT SOMETHING I CAN NEVER HAVE
CAUSE YOU MAY BE SMALL, BUT YOU'RE FAR FROM DELICATE. LOOK AT THOSE HANDS. TINY LITTLE THINGS, LIKE A CHILD'S HANDS, WITH SLENDER FINGERS AND PINK POLISHED NAILS. THOSE HANDS LOOK LIKE THEY NEVER TOUCH ANYTHING MORE LETHAL THAT YOUR HAIRBRUSH.
HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU STRUCK ME WITH THOSE HANDS? A HUNDRED? A THOUSAND? AND WHY...WHY...DO I KEEP COMING BACK HERE AND LETTING YOU DO IT?
WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH ME? WHY CAN'T I LEAVE? WHAT IS THERE ABOUT YOU THAT KEEPS ME HERE?
Desperate to hide these thoughts from her perceptive eyes, Spike looked at her like she was something the cat wouldn't even bother to drag in.
"Should've known it was you," he snapped. "Been nearly six hours."
"Would have been sooner if I hadn't been busy cleaning up your mess," she said tartly.
His brows arched. "MY mess? I just borrowed the doc. The mess is your's slayer. Your's and the boy's."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm done." Reaching behind her back, she brought out a stake.
"Spike, you're a killer," she said, slowly walking towards him. "And I should have done this years ago."
At that exact moment, Spike knew that this would be the only way out. The only way he could untangle himself from the web she wove so skillfully...was by dying.
No way else would he ever be free of her.
"You know what?" he said, sealing his fate. "Do it. Bloody just do it."
Buffy frowned? What?"
He nearly laughed. THAT had surprised her, had shut her big mouth up for once.
He glared down into her eyes. "End my torment," he demanded. "Seeing you, every day, everywhere I go, every time I turn around. Take me OUT of a world that has you in it."
His shirt buttons popped off, scattering around the room as he whipped off the garment and threw it to the ground, baring his chest so she'd have no trouble finding where to put her stake.
"Just kill me!"
Buffy raised the stake, took a half step forward...then stopped.
Spike stood his ground, determined not to struggle or pull away, preparing himself for her strike.
Time stood still as the combatants faced off.
His hesitation betrayed him. The longer he stood there, so close he could feel the heat of her body bathe his skin, the less he wanted to separate himself from her.
He knew he was finished. She wasn't going to stake him as long as he just stood there, not fighting back.
It was too late. She wouldn't kill him, and he couldn't do it himself. He was bound to her, permanently..irrevocably..whether in hate or in love...he was bound.
And, thus bound, he was condemned to live.
But, by God...if he had to live this life then he WOULD have something of her to call his own.
Before he could think, could stop himself, he lunged forward and grabbed Buffy's upper arms. Dragging her against him, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his.
Preparing for a struggle, Spike tightened his grip...and was shocked to the core when he felt her hands on him. Not hitting him, not pushing him away...but reaching for him, holding him.
And...oh, God...she was kissing him. She wasn't just allowing him to kiss her. She was returning the kiss in full measure.
He was becoming light headed, his mind spinning like a carnival wheel of fortune, turning and turning and turning...then stopping suddenly to reveal a new thought or a secret wish.
He could hear his inner poet...hear William...babbling like a fool, saying things he was afraid to let her hear.
BUFFY, BUFFY, BUFFY...PLEASE STAY CLOSE. CLOSER. DON'T LEAVE ME ALONE WHEN I NEED YOU SO MUCH. LET ME HOLD YOU. LET ME KISS YOU. LET ME LOVE YOU, BECASUE I DO LOVE YOU, BUFFY. MORE THAN ANYTHING EVER. I'LL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU, ANYTHING. I'LL DIE FOR YOU. I'LL KILL FOR YOU....
Somewhere, in the dizzying miasma he was struggling through, he felt her pull away from him.
As badly as he wanted to tighten his grip, he forced himself to let go of her, to give her the space she needed, to let her run away from him, if that was what she wanted to do.
To run out into the sunlight, where he could never follow. Where he could only watch her go, cursing the fate that kept him from standing beside her.
Aching to take her back into his arms, to fall to his knees and beg her to be his bride...he watched her come to grips with what he had just done, and with her reaction to it.
Moments passed in agony as he waited for her to go or stay.
When she finally moved, it was back into his embrace. Her small hands, the hands that had caused him no end of pain, slipped behind his head and drew him down to the promise of her lips.
Any control he'd been able to summon up was disappearing, running through his fingers like water...like sand at the seashore where he'd played as a child...back when life was truly life, not the half measure it had become on the night his demon was born.
Throwing caution to all four winds, he flung his arms around her, holding on to her like the hope of heaven.
Sensing her need, he released her mouth, allowing her to drag oxygen into her healthy young body.
Not wanting to lose contact with her soft skin, Spike blazed a trail of kisses down her cheek to her throat.
Feeling the throb of blood pulsing in her veins, he fought the demon down, not allowing it to come anywhere near her vulnerable throat.
She was speaking, saying something in that little baby voice of hers. He heard her, whispering in his ear...his name!!
"Spike..." she panted. "I want you."
Her breath warmed his skin as he fought to make sense of her words.
Yes...yes, and he had to tell her that he wanted her too. Had
to tell her that he....
Hiding his face against the damp skin of her throat, he opened his mouth to speak...and gave away his last secret.
"Buffy, I love you...God, I love you so much."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike's eyes flew open as he shot straight up in bed.
Briefly disoriented, he glanced around the small bedroom.
A dream. A strange and elaborate dream that seemed to have encompassed months of his life.
He turned to see if he had disturbed the girl sleeping beside him.
No, she was peaceful. One hand cupped under her cheek, the other resting lightly on his pillow.
Pretty. Very pretty in her ivory silk chemise.
Facing forward again, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to remember the dream.
But it was fading quickly now, as dreams usually do, making room for new ones.
As he sat there, he felt her hand slide up his back in a gentle caress.
"What's wrong, baby?" she asked, her voice a little slurred with sleep.
Spike smiled as he felt her fingers move over him, drawing him back down to her side.
"Nothing's wrong, luv," he said. "Just a strange dream."
She returned his smile. "I told you not to eat cold pizza before going to bed."
He pinched her cheek. "You only told me that because you wanted to eat it."
She giggled. "Sorry. But how was I supposed to know that vampires like pizza."
Spike stretched out and pulled her close.
"What kind of slayer are you, anyway? Thought you knew everything there was to know about us."
Buffy sighed. "Yeah, I thought so too. But you keep surprising me." She yawned widely. "So, you want to tell me about your dream?"
"You know, I don’t remember all of it," he said, stroking her hair. "But at one point...I think I asked you to stake me."
"What?!" she said loudly. "Are you kidding me? Why?"
He shrugged. "How should I know? You were cranky."
"Me? Sweet little old me? Never." She waited for a response, then nudged him. "Hey, are you awake? Hello? Come out, come out wherever you are."
Spike mumbled something, almost back to sleep again.
"What?" She leaned closer as he repeated his words, then smiled and snuggled down in the bed beside him."
"I love you, too, baby. Sweet dreams."
The End.
(Like I said, it's my first effort.)
