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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was my first fanfic. I loved writing it and it influenced other spuffy fics I could not help but write. I hope others enjoy the story despite the basic storytelling.
Second Sighted

It felt right. His lips on hers, her hands on him. Nothing had ever seemed so good before.

She breathed in deeply. She could smell him on her. Cigarettes, alcohol, his past. Nothing mattered but that she had him, with her.on her...in her.

He was kissing her skin. Every cold kiss brought a tremble and a renewed need inside. It was desperate, it clung.

His hands felt her body and she pressed towards him.

She cried out his name and whimpered when he did not say those three words that tore at her every time he voiced his feelings.

"Tell me, tell me how much you love me!" she cried to no one in the room. "Agh! Oh yes!"

"Buffy! He yelled then a praise of her name. “Buffy."

"Yes!" she growled at him softly.

"Hey! Buffy!"

"Please, Spike. Say it to me. I know you do, but...just tell me." Buffy thrashed in her sleep at the non-existent form in her bed.

"BUFFY!!"

"Huh?" Buffy bolted awake to see her sister's eyes staring into hers. "Who? What?"

Dawn decided not to mention her mentioning...well, him. "You were having a dream,
Buffy," she innocently replied. "Looked like you were, um, fighting someone." And she played the dumb little sister with perfection.

~~`~~

He had been standing across the street for nearly an hour. Spike's new bad habit. Watch the Slayer's room until he barely made it home before daylight.

He lifted the almost empty pack of smokes to his mouth and shook one up out of the soft-pack. It had been an interesting night. First the story on the late night news, "Two bodies found in an abandoned warehouse, both burned beyond recognition." He had watched just long enough to get the address, then he was off to meet her.

For almost two months this had been his strategy: find a good kill, help her figure out how to slay whatever did it.

This one was most likely a spell. That whole ‘spontaneous combustion’ thing usually was.

The only exception he knew of in his 120 plus years of unlife was the visit from Sweet, also known as "The Scary Music Curse" by the Niblet.

Buffy had already been and gone by the time he got to the scene, but he decided he might as well see the site that she had. At least he could compare notes. It might even start a conversation, he thought to himself with a smile.

In the center of the first floor of the old building were two scorch marks, both in human form. He crouched and smelled the air. There had been at least one human, possibly some demon involvement. But the circle drawn around the two dark shadows of burnt out fire was a dead giveaway for magic as well. Whomever it was, they were gone now.

"Red will want to hear about the--" he stopped himself short, remembering the witch was no longer the witch. "Maybe Tara?" he thought to himself.

He took one final look around, made a few mental notes, and left to go stand by what he had decided was the best tree with the most shadow, and yet still gave him a clear view across the street.

He gazed at the unlit window. She was obviously asleep. A gentle pull in his groin let him know it had been too long since their last encounter. God, he wanted her. Always. A small growl came from deep within his throat as he imagined a not so long ago perfect moment with Buffy.

Suddenly the light came on. He looked through the window. Dawn was there. She sat on the bed and shook violently. He knew, even though he could not see the bed, that Dawn must be shaking the slumbering Slayer from a dream. "Must be a bad 'un to wake Dawn. That child can sleep through anything," he said to himself as he remembered the previous summer.

The dark haired younger Summers stood, said something about the dream, and turned the light off while closing the door to Buffy's room.

"Got to love the bloody Vamp vision. It's the bleedin' lip reading I can't get," he scolded himself. He may have missed what the dream was about. "The Dream!" he spoke aloud.
Something in the Slayer had scared her into screaming...making noise. He had heard a small muffled sound, but he was too far and there were too many walls in the house for him to have any idea what the wailing had been about. So he stared on, into the dark room.

Buffy waited until she heard her sister's door shut then she stood from her bed. She walked to the window and stared at the starry sky.

There she was, he could see her. She was deep in thought as she stared out her window to the night.

"Pink PJ's, luv? I need to take this girl out for some "naughty wear" shoppin'." He laughed at his own comment and looked into her face. Her lips were moving. Her gaze was shifting.

"Where are you?" she said to herself. Every night for almost two months these dreams had come. So far they had been private and kind of fun. This time she had woken Dawnie because of a dreamy pleasure. "Nope, not doing this anymore." She declared.

As she stared at the stars, she calmed herself and felt a presence.

"Definitely Spike," she thought. She had been standing and staring straight up and ahead.

Her body moved, turning to her left. "Almost," she said to herself.

Spike was scared that she was going to see him. Then he remembered that Slayers, while having 20/20 or better vision, can't see in the dark any better than your average Joe. He crouched a bit lower, and slithered behind the tree, but never enough to lose sight of "his girl."

"Very close," she spoke, and her gut pulled a bit more. "C'mon, where are you? Oh..." her eyes dropped inch by inch until...

"Average Joe, my ass!!" he whispered to himself. "She's staring right bloody at me!"

Her lips suddenly repeated over and over--

She smiled at herself slightly and repeated the words "I need to get some sleep, Spike" five times. Then she walked back to her bed, fell onto it, and crashed.

He watched her words. "Spike! She said my name!" He kept staring at her. "'Sleep, Spike.' She wants me to get some sleep?"

"I need to get some sleep, Spike." He muttered the words after seeing them the fifth time.

"Oh, right then," and he walked away, silently questioning how she, even being the Slayer and all, could tell He was there.

Sure, all the Slayers could mildly sense a Vamp a good distance from her, but to sense which Vamp...a good 40 meters away?

This thought lingered, but he knew already from previous experience that Buffy was no ordinary Slayer. "Damn gifted," he muttered, and thought of his favorite "gifts" as he walked home to his crypt, grinning all the way.

Spike was almost home and with plenty of time to spare. "No, really, how did she know?!" he yelled at all of the headstones that had no answer. "This makes no sense," he finally admitted to himself.

"I really, really hate This Town!!" As he screamed these words he saw a package sitting plainly in view on the stoop of his home.

"What's this I see? A special present for little ol' me?" He walked cautiously to it and peered at the inscription. For William, the NOT SO BLOODY.

"Oh, Ha fuckin' Ha!" he yelled.

He stepped back. Most any demon after him now wanted currency of some kind. Blowing him up wouldn't get them their pay. He stepped back and let himself sense his surroundings. Alone, most definitely alone.

He leaned in once again, gathering all that his senses could tell him about the small package in front of his only refuge. "Don't smell holy water," he said, "No explosives," which could be messy, but not deadly.

He snagged the box and tore it open. "Maybe it's from Buffy?"

After destroying the paper wrapping, he lifted the lid to expose a piece of paper. He curiously read the words. It was an address, and below the address was the word "AKOSHTA."


Chapter End Notes:
Please review and let me know what you thought. I'm currently rewriting the chapters that follow.



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