All About Spike

Fear of Blood
By Moose

Disclaimer: Joss is God. The characters are his. I'm merely having fun with them.
Notes: Post "Wrecked" Pre "Gone"



It's just a dream, Spike thought, cutting through the cemetery, following her.

It's just a dream. This doesn't mean anything.

Buffy was ahead, idly twirling a stake in her hand. Her stark white sweater flashed like a beacon before him. Spike pressed forward. When he wanted, when the hunt was on, he could be as quiet as a cat. He was close enough now to smell her perfume--a sweet, fruity aroma mixed with flowers. Dead flowers.

By the time he was almost upon her she sensed someone there and spun, stake in hand. When she saw who it was she sighed in relief and anger.

"Spike, stop sneaking up on..."

That was just long enough. Her defenses were down. He grabbed her suddenly, quickly spinning her around as she struggled to fight him off. But he had surprise on his side. And hunger. He ached with hunger.

"Spike!"

He wasn't listening. He had her off-balance, preventing her from using her considerable strength against him. He knew he only had a moment before she would throw him off.

Spike pulled her head back and plunged his fangs deep into her soft neck. He felt the rush of blood in his mouth, flowing like a warm fountain, filling him. Buffy fought, trying to twist from his grasp, but as he drank he became stronger, impossibly strong while she...faded. And the ache, the pitiless hunger retreated as Spike fed. She had more blood than he thought possible. He kept drinking and drinking and...

"Spike!"

He started, finally awake. Buffy was looking at him puzzled.

"What love?" he said, somewhat sheepishly.

"You're all bumpy. And you're hogging the covers," she said tiredly.

"Sorry pet. Go back to sleep."

He sat up with his back to her, hoping she didn't notice him shaking. He calmed himself enough to de-vamp as she pulled more covers to her side of the bed. Buffy didn't notice his shaking or the gasping for breath he didn't need.

Spike was reeling. He could still taste her blood in his mouth. He could still feel her pulse beneath his lips--slowly fading.

"I'm not a monster," he rasped, trying to fight off the sensation.

"I'm not a monster," he muttered over and over again. It was almost gone, that wonderful...no, horrible feeling of blood.

"I'm not a..."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Buffy exclaimed, annoyed, staring at him.

"Nothing pet. Go back to sleep."

But she didn't. She knew something was wrong. The bumpy vampire thing hadn't bothered her. Angel had done it sometimes while he slept too. Buffy didn't think much of it. But now she noticed him trying to hide the shaking.

"What's wrong, Spike?" she said, concern in her voice. Was he sick? Vampires don't get sick, do they?

"Nothing pet..."

"Will you stop saying that!"

"Just had a bad dream is all. Nothing to worry about."

She looked at him unconvinced, but shrugged it off.

He probably was dreaming of Dru or something and doesn't want to tell me, she thought.

Buffy had stopped trying to read Spike's mind a long time ago and wasn't in the mood to play twenty questions in the middle of the night.

"Fine. But if you are going to smoke, do it outside, okay? I'm trying to sleep."

It's my crypt love, Spike thought but he didn't say anything. At least she was staying the night this time.

He pulled on some pants, grabbed his cigs and lighter and as soundlessly as he could, creaked open the heavy metal door and stepped outside into the cold night. Afraid of rousing her again he left the door open and lit a cigarette just outside.

It doesn't mean anything, he thought. It was just a dream.

But he knew, down deep he knew it meant more. He had realized he loved her in a dream, and now...

Spike withdrew from that thought, cursing it under his breath. He loved her, didn't he? He fought by her side, even saved her life!

How can I still want...

It's why Angel left, Spike suddenly thought. He drank from her, couldn't keep from drinking her. Spike laughed out loud, but there was pain in that laugh, choking him.

I am a monster, he thought. Out of all the people in the world, the only person I love is the only one I can... she'll leave me when she realizes... she'll know. Sooner or later she'll know.

When Buffy was dead he could love her, completely. It was simpler without the real thing staring him right in the face. She became the image of everything he loved and he kept it--no, he kept her alive within him for 147 days. Until she returned. Then she began to burn within him, consuming him with possibilities. Possibilities he could only realize before in dreams.

And now he dreamed of killing her.

"I am a monster."

Tears began to fall from his eyes. As he silently wept he didn't notice the soft footsteps behind him.

"Spike?" Buffy had never seen him cry before. She was surprised at how much it bothered her. How much it hurt.

"What's wrong, Spike? Please tell me." But Spike just wiped his eyes fiercely.

"I know why he left you, pet. Angel, I mean." Spike didn't see her startled expression. She wasn't expecting that.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was a bit harder than she wanted, which happened when she spoke of Angel. With Spike anyway.

"He loved you, right? Like I love you?"

Buffy let that one slide. She just nodded.

"And he knew if he stayed, he would hurt you."

Buffy said nothing, afraid of what Spike was going to say yet wanting to hear it anyway. It's over. I can't love you anymore. I can't give you the life you deserve. You deserve more.

"Buffy, I love you, but..."

She stopped him. She had to stop him. In a near panic Buffy grabbed Spike and started kissing him, fiercely. At first he responded, kissing her back, passionately. Then he tried to break free.

"Buffy, I have to tell you..."

But she cut him off again with her lips, pulling him toward the bed, undoing his belt. He fought her, but she was strong, and he wasn't used to fighting this.

"I'm a monster, Buffy," he managed to get out just as she hurled him across the room onto the bed.

"Shut up, Spike," she said sweetly, like a shared joke, smiling at him. And he started to smile back.

Hell, it was just a dream, he thought.

Buffy straddled him, pinning him to the bed, kissing his mouth, his chest...

She knew his hunger for her. It was the same hunger she had for him. To devour him. To be sated with him.

He may be a monster, she thought, but then what am I?

She refused to think about it and continued kissing him, falling deeper and deeper into his embrace.

 

The end.

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