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Her back arched, and she threw back her head as a long moan escaped her lips. As her orgasm faded, she started to pull her self off of the vampire, unconcerned with the fact that he had not yet come.

Strong hands grabbed her waist and she could feel his cold fingers digging into her back, bruising her, as he pulled her back down on top of him, crying out "Buffy" as he did so. She didn't struggle, but gave in. Letting him finish, as if it was no concern of hers one way or the other.

Three, four times he impaled her with his cock, until he came. Then he let her go, as she collapsed on top of him. They lay there for a moment, with her breathing heavily on top of him.

Then he rolled her over onto her back. Brushing away fragments of two-by-four and dry-wall as he did so, to make a clean space for her to lie on.

Her eyes were closed, she refused to look at him, but she felt his blunt teeth sink into her neck. It sent a shiver through her whole body and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her.

She wanted to scream. To beg him to bite her with his other teeth. Bite me, drink me, kill me, fuck me. The litany went on, over and over in her head, but she managed to just lie there as he worked his way down her body, biting her gently with human teeth. It was driving her crazy.

Not to mention his fingers. He had spread both her legs, and the soft folds between them, apart again and was gently rubbing her clit with his fingers. Then his fingers were inside her. First one, then two, as his thumb moved to massage her nub.

He bit her just above her belly button.

"What are you. . . Oh God!" she screamed as he buried his face between her legs and tasted her. She'd never felt anything like it. No one had ever done this to her before.

She was about to reach down to run her fingers through his hair when he was gone. Nothing, nobody was touching her. But she could still hear Spike. Hear him groaning.

She opened her eyes to find herself standing in a bedroom.

Spike was there on the bed, on top of a brunette woman whose face she couldn't see.

"Spike?" she said, hurt more deeply than she could imagine by the sight of him making love to another woman.

He held himself up with one hand as he continued to plunge in and out of the woman. "Do you mind Buffy? I'm a bit busy trying to move on here. It's what you wanted isn't it?"

"I don't think you should be doing that. Spike. I don't think she should be doing that to you."

He looked down and watched as the brunette carved symbols in his chest with a knife. Blood flowed down his white skin covering them both. "It's okay luv, I like it rough. You know that."

A weak voice came from a corner of the room "Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop." She looked over and saw a man curled into a ball. He was wearing a strange suit and rocking back and forth as he held his knees. His face was down and she couldn't see much of him other than his mousy brown hair. Even so he seemed familiar to her.

"It's okay. I'll help you. It's what I do," she said putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Just tell me what's wrong."

"It isn't proper. It isn't right." he said, and looked up at her.

She gasped as she looked into the blue eyes she knew so well.

"Spike!"

She sat straight up in bed.

The next moment she was scrambling to get dressed. Spike was in trouble. She was sure of it. That had been a slayer dream if she had ever had one. And yet, she couldn't remember a slayer dream ever interrupting a regular dream and the first part had not been something that was going to happen but something that already had.

She threw on a tank-top and a pair of sweats. Automatically she started looking for weapons, before remembering that all she had brought with her was one stake. It was too difficult getting weapons through customs. Spike will have weapons at his place, she thought, as she left her room.

She tip-toed downstairs careful not wake anyone and grabbed her father's keys from a ring in the kitchen. Despite Dawn's complaints she was glad her dad's SUV was an automatic. She didn't know what she would have done if she had to drive a stick.

As soon as she was on the road driving took up all her concentration, for which she was grateful. It kept her from thinking about how she had felt seeing Spike with the faceless woman.

The clock on the dashboard read 1:43 as she pulled into the parking lot at Spike's building. She flew down the stairs into the basement, stake in hand, not thinking that bursting in on a vampire with a stake at the ready wasn't exactly polite.

She was about to burst through the door to his apartment, when she came up short. Something had been nagging at the back of her mind since she'd parked. She couldn't sense any vampires of any kind nearby, not to mention that specific feeling she got when Spike was around.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, searching for any sign that a vampire was near.

Nothing.

It was too late. That was why the slayer dream had interrupted her regular dream. She had been too slow. Maybe if she'd driven faster. She didn't know what to do. How was she supposed to find him in L.A. Why hadn't the stupid dream given her any clues.

Maybe because it wasn't a slayer dream, a little voice in the back of her head said. Slayer dreams never happen at the last moment, and they don't interrupt other dreams. It was just a dream. A regular dream. That was all.

But if it wasn't a slayer dream it meant that she hadn't been bothered by seeing Spike with another woman because she was hurting him, but because she was jealous.

No one hurts Spike but me, is that it? she asked herself. God, how pathetic is that? She didn't want Spike for herself, but no one else could have him? He couldn't have anyone else? Didn't she want him to be happy?

Or did she want him for herself?

But if it was just a regular dream, just her subconscious working out the issues she wouldn't deal with consciously, why had she been so sure he was in danger?

And so what if he wasn't here. He was a vampire, this was like the middle of the day for him. He'd mentioned that he'd been patrolling, fighting evil. This was prime slaying time, as people began to straggle out of bars, and vampires began picking them off.

As all these questions swam through her brain, one kept surfacing again and again; was she in love with Spike?

She kept standing there, one hand hovering over the doorknob, lost in her thoughts. Seconds, then minutes passed. Finally she stopped. This was getting her no where. She was being silly. It was just a dream. That was it.

She turned to leave and started up the stairs, just as the door opened and Spike appeared.

For a moment he froze, seeing her standing there. Then he continued down the stairs.

"What are you doing here?"

"I um, I was worried about you."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you Florence, but I'm just fine. I'm a big boy, can take care of myself."

He was only a couple of steps above her on the stairs now. She was about to apologize when it hit her, the smell of perfume. She could see something on his neck. Lipstick? It certainly wasn't blood. And his hair was standing up instead of lying slicked back as it normally was. As it had been earlier in the day.

She tried to think of something to say. The fact that she had come to warn him about a woman he might sleep with was completely forgotten, as a jealous rage filled her at the thought of a woman he did sleep with.

Her eyes flashed dangerously and he took a step back involuntarily, recognizing the look from the days when she used to use him as her favorite punching bag.

"Here I come to save you. DRIVING across town, and you're off getting laid?!"

"Hey, don't see how it's any business of yours." he said defensively, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"Yeah . . . well . . . you're just . . .a slut." she shoved him out of her way and down towards his door as she began to stamp up the stairs.

"That's right, run off, tail between your little slayer legs."

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and she wasn't going to reply. Behind her, she could here the door opening and slamming shut. She paused, not wanting him to get the last words in when he was clearly in the wrong, when she heard a loud crash behind her.

She spun on her heels, leapt down the stairs, through the door, her stake once again raised. Inside she found Spike his forehead resting against the wall, his fist still embedded in the crater he'd made punching that self same wall.

"Spike?"

"Get the fuck out!" his voice was ragged, as if he were crying.

"Spike what is it? What's wrong? Oh, god I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . . I shouldn't have. . ."

She crossed over to him, and reached out to comfort him, but he pulled away, then he shoved her.

"I said GET OUT! What part of that don't you understand Slayer?"

"Obviously the part where I've ever done anything you've asked me to," she said trying to lighten the mood as she reached for him again.

This time when he tried to fend her off she grabbed his wrists and pulled him in close. He struggled against her but she held him tight. Finally he gave up and she put her arms around him and held him as he cried.

His arms were around her, squeezing her very tightly, and once he had given in, the sobs came uncontrollably. His whole body shook and he couldn't seem to hold her tight enough.

She didn't know how long they stood like that. Her whispering comforting things and him crying. But finally the sobs subsided and he pulled back.

"Fine. Good. That's done now. You can go." he tried to sound commanding, but his voice was still broken and he wouldn't look her in the eye.

"Spike I'm really sorry. It's really none of my business, where you go, what you do."

"Yeah, well it isn't. But that's not the point. What do you think you're the center of my bleeding world? Ever occur to that the water works had nothing to do with you? So you can just shove off now, y' hear?"

"Well if it had nothing to do with me I'm defiantly not leaving. Aren't I your friend? You know you can tell me anything. . . Don't you?"

He sank down against the wall. She sat next to him, taking the hand he'd punched the wall with into hers.

"Okay so I lied. It is you. At least in part. I'm just. . . I'm lonely okay?"

"Not too lonely apparently," she said under her breath. At the hurt look in his eye she quickly back peddled, "Sorry, didn't mean that. Go on."

"Go on? That's all there is, isn't there? Just going on and on. You know, things would have been a lot easier if I really had died in Sunnydale. Nice dramatic exit. Fighting the good fight and all."

"Better for who? You do KNOW that Dawn and I missed you?" she looked into his eyes, searching there for her answers, but all she saw was the familiar doubt. The look he gave her that said, 'You don't REALLY care, you never REALLY cared.'

It was more than she could stand. That even now after everything that had happened he could doubt that he was important to her. Before she could form another coherent thought she was kissing him.

He was taken by surprise, so her tongue easily made it's way down his throat. Surprised or no, his reflexes were as sharp as ever, and it only took a moment for him to respond. To return the kiss, and to pull her onto his lap.

The kiss grew more and more passionate, and Buffy found herself rubbing up and down against him. Eagerly pressing herself against the erection she had missed earlier in the day.

Her hands roamed down his chest, till they reached his jeans. Then she pulled his shirt upward in a violent motion that forced their lips apart for a second.

He growled, as their lips met each other again and he rolled her onto her back. His hands reached under her tank top to find her breasts. She hadn't put on a bra when she had woken up so her nipples were there, accessible and waiting for his hand to claim.

He squeezed her nipple and her hips surged up while her legs tightened about his waist. She reached into the tight space between them, to undo his fly, and let loose his hard member. Just as she undid the zipper and put her hand around his cock, she broke off their kiss to bite his neck, remembering how that used to set him off.

But as her lips neared his neck she saw the lipstick marks again.

One moment Spike was in complete bliss. The Slayer's small hand encircling his cock, squeezing him, rubbing him. His own hand filled with her soft breast. The next he had been thrown back, by a kick from the slayer, who was scrambling to her feet.

"What?" he started to ask.

"This is disgusting," the minute she said it, she realized how that must sound to him. "Not you, but, yes you. You fuck some other woman, you're still covered with her, and then you expect me to sleep with you?"

"As I remember, I didn't expect anything. I've been trying to get rid of you. You're the one who jumped me. But you always did forget that part didn't you Slayer?" the way he said slayer it was as if it was something dirty. "Nice to know how far we've come along."

He turned his back to her, and zipped himself back up, then headed over to the cabinet. She watched as he pulled out the bottle of whiskey she'd bought for him, and poured it down the sink.

"No thank you. I'm done with you, you . . . fucking tease. ARE YOU STILL HERE?" he started to move toward her, but it didn't matter, she turned, and ran out of the room and up the stairs crying.

As the sound of her footsteps faded. He looked down at the empty bottle in his hand. "Fuck, there ought to be a law against this sort of thing." He licked the neck of the bottle, savoring the few drops that were left of the beautiful liquor he'd just thrown out.

"It's for the best, not like she didn't know, can't take this any more. She's too. . ." he never finished the thought, as he looked out the door, imagining the beautiful girl he'd just thrown out.





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