SoPch1

Title: A Sense of Place
Author: Spikelicious
Disclaimers: The usual. Sacred duty, blah blah...oops, wrong spiel. Don't own em, don't sue me.
Rating: Probably R' for the whole story, just to be safe.
Feedback: Love it. Need it. Want it. Thanks!
Thanks to Larissa, my wonderful beta friend, for all her help!


Chapter One

It was pitch black, but she could see quite clearly. The moon shone brightly in the sky, casting down a faintly yellow light, illuminating every stick, every rock, every leaf, every tree within her range of sight.

Trees. She was in the forest, at night. Not her usual Slayground, Buffy thought cautiously, as she dropped into her normal defensive stance. In fact, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd gone into an area more deeply wooded than the areas between paths on campus.

Suddenly her senses tingled, alerting her to the presence of those she was destined to slay. Vampires. No, one vampire. She still couldn't see it, but she could feel its presence as clearly as if it were standing right next to her.

Something rustled in the tree stand to her right. Branches cracked as something large pushed through them, and the ground trembled with each step as it came closer. It wasn't the vampire, she knew; she could still feel the undead creature off to her left.

Noiselessly, she simultaneously flew forward and spun in the air, landing
softly on the pads of her feet, so that she was facing whatever was coming.
She waited, but the ominous footsteps had stopped and her senses became
silent. The forest offered no aid- no more rustling, creaking or snapping of
twigs. Everything was silent as she faced her unseen opponents.

As she strained to listen for any clues that might give away the vampire or
her other foe's presence--how she knew it was an enemy, she didn't know,
only that it was--she realized that she had no weapons with her, none of the
shiny, sharp medieval weaponry Giles liked to procure for her, knowing it
would cause that bloodthirsty gleam in her eye just as surely as if she were
Cordelia at a Macy's sale. No, she didn't have even one of the many pointy
sticks she kept hidden in various and often alarming places.

Well, she thought with a grin, I have my hands. Slayer hands. Hands of Slayer. Bring it on, Big Bad!

She paused, wondering when Spike's old nickname for himself had become a
generic term for the monster of the minute. Or was she thinking of Spike?
Immediately, she turned her head to the area she had last felt the vampire's
presence.

"S-Spike?"

The second she called out his name, the forest erupted around her in a
flurry of noise and movement. The vampire flew out of hiding just as the
Big, Heavy Something erupted out of the tree stand, but although she knew
they were both now coming towards her, she could not see either. That is,
she couldn't make out any details as she jumped back, trying to give herself
room to fight. The two forms seemed to push against each other for dominance as they approached her, but she could only make out their outlines. The Big Something was huge, at least twice as tall as she with some kind of horns and long snout. It walked on its hind legs but they seemed to be bowed, and it almost fell forward with each step, as if it were still getting used to walking upright. The vampire, on the other hand, was the essence of grace and fluidity, approaching her with confidence. Soon, it simply sidestepped the larger beast and suddenly it was in her face, inches away, smiling down at her with a nice, big, toothy grin. Ridges and burning yellow eyes gleamed in the moonlight, but were not nearly as luminescent as the tousled, peroxide blonde hair. Suicide blonde, Buffy thought dully, as the face
descended towards her neck. She got a last glimpse at the monster who was
still shambling towards them as she whispered her last word.

"Spike."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Buffy?"

A voice was calling her, away from vampires and monsters and moonlit
forests. Terror pressed down on her like the weight of water, and she
screamed again.

"Buffy!" The voice called again, trying to bring her up from the depths of
her subconscious. A savior, she thought dimly, still floating in the surreal
nighttime world of her dream.

"Buffy, wake up!"

Finally, she surfaced and found herself being shaken gently but firmly by
the shoulders. She slapped the hands away and peeled the sheet from her
body. She'd been asleep, trapped not by some unknown fear but by her
traitorous 200 thread count sheet. But she had also been dreaming, and she
realized with that familiar dread that it had not been merely a nightmare.
Nope, she thought blearily, pushing her sleep-mussed hair behind her ears,
this was a dream of the Slayer variety. Of the 'not good' variety, because
they had the unerring tendency to be bad, and to come true.

She turned to face the vampire kneeling on the bed next to her, whom she
knew to be peering at her worriedly, even though in the darkness of their
bedroom she could barely make out his handsome features etched with concern.

"Bad dream, luv?" he asked huskily, leaning over to embrace her as she
nodded. She couldn't help but shudder, though, at the memory of those same
features, distorted with ridges and fangs, leaning into her neck as
something hideously evil approached from behind him.

'Not good', indeed.


* * * * * * * * * *

"Think about it, Nibblet."

"What?"

The blonde vampire continued staring at the can he held in his hand.

"Nuclear fusion. Penicillin. Travel to the moon. It all led up to this."

"Spray cheese?"

Spike nodded with reverence. "In a can, pet. In a can."

Dawn rolled her eyes. The Vamp of the House was having one of his frequent
moments of appreciation for the trappings of human society.

Buffy came in just as Spike began squirting yellowy-orange dollops of
manufactured non-dairy product onto Triscuits and popping them into his
mouth with distinct pleasure. "Bloody wonderful," he muttered in between
mouthfuls.

"This is breakfast, honey?" Buffy eyed the vampire with a slight smile,
knowing that this distasteful breakfast would be washed down with an even
more disgusting chaser. She retrieved his freshly warmed blood from the
microwave and set it down in front of him.

Leaning over Spike's shoulder, Dawn nodded. "Yeah, Spike. You sure you don't
want a Pop-Tart with mustard on it?"

Spike frowned. "You know, 'Bit, that was only one time and it was just an
experiment."

Dawn giggled as he playfully swatted at her and Buffy had to bite her lip
from laughing. She popped some toast in, poured herself a glass of juice and
sat down across from her mate.

Just as he seemed about to ask her something, Buffy turned to Dawn. "Don't
you have school, Dawnie?"

Dawn shrugged, downing the last of her milk and wiping her mouth on the
nearest hand towel.

"Yeah, of course. More school adventures of the non-exciting kind."

Spike swallowed his last cracker and took a sip of blood to clear his palate, then asked, "But aren't you trying out for the cheerleading squad today? That should be fun."

Dawn looked embarrassed as she ground out, "Spike, shut up. You weren't
supposed to say anything."

Buffy jumped up and hugged her sister. "Dawn! That's so cool! You're gonna
be a cheerleader? You'll have so much fun!"

Dawn didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. "I probably won't make it, so
don't make a big deal out of it, Buffy. In order to get on the team, you not
only have to try out, you have to get voted for by peer judges."

Buffy shrugged. "So?"

Dawn shook her head, amazed at her sister's insensitivity. "Duh, Buffy!
Everyone thinks I'm a freak! Poor little orphan girl, everyone feels sorry
for me. Not sorry enough to stop looking at me like I have the plague, though."

Buffy's smile faded. "Dawnie, you're not an orphan."

Spike got up and hugged Dawn. "'Bit, I know it's hard. It's hard to want to
be liked, because then it means you got to care about what people think about you."

Dawn sniffled and looked up at the vampire. "You mean, like when you were
William? With Cecily?"

Spike nodded into her hair as he gave her a final hug. "Just like that, pet.
Now, go off to school and give those kids what-for."

"Okay. I'll do my best," she said softly, gratitude shining brightly in her large, limpid eyes. She turned to Buffy, who was staring at the pair, clearly confused by the exchange that had just taken place. "Later, Buffy." She gave her sister a quick hug and was out the door.

Buffy turned to Spike. "What was that about William and Cecily?" Even as
close as they'd gotten, Spike hadn't revealed very much about his past to
her, and it irked her that he had told Dawn something first.

Spike sat back down and examined his mug. "Nothing, luv. Just a memory from a long time ago, to make the Nibblet feel better."

"So, tell me."

Spike shrugged. "Not much to tell. I was in love with a society bint named
Cecily, wrote godawful poetry for her. She never even looked at me until the
day she told me I was beneath her."

Buffy flinched at the pain in Spike's face, and got angry at a long-dead
woman who had so easily torn William's heart to shreds. She paled, then,
realizing that not so long ago, she had thrown money at Spike, after she'd
thrown him to the ground, and uttered those very same words. The look on his face now was a mirror of the look he'd had when she'd turned and walked away from him.

She wanted to vomit. Instead, she got up and moved him back from the table
so that she could sit on his lap. Twining her arms around his neck, she
'shushed' his startled 'huh?' and began kissing him, quick, playful nips on
and around his lips.

"Pet, what-"

"Nothing. I love you," she whispered huskily, peppering kisses down his
cheek and onto his neck. When she reached his jugular, she bit it lightly,
not breaking the skin but leaving small indentations. Spike shuddered, and
quickly stood up with her in his arms, then headed up the stairs to their
bedroom.

As they reached the door, Spike asked throatily, "Buffy, not that I'm
complaining, but what brought this on?"

He placed her on the bed and began undressing, noting the way she watched
his every movement as if she were a cat stalking prey. The very thought
turned him on, and as he crawled onto the bed beside her, she smiled,
reaching up to cup his cheek before bringing his head down to hers.

"I just wanted to remind you that you're mine."

* * * * * * * * * *

Later, as they were getting redressed, Spike remembered something.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah? Hey, have you seen my--oh, nevermind, there it is. " She fished her
bra from the branches of the potted ficus plant in the corner of the room
and wiggled into it.

"You had a nightmare last night."

Buffy stilled in the act of fastening her bra as the memory of last night's
dream flooded through her. Big Monster. Vamped out Spike. Woods. Slayer
dream. Crap.

She sighed deeply as she finished getting dressed. Spike waited; he knew
that she would tell him when she was ready.

Not looking at him, she sat on the edge of the bed. "It was a Slayer dream."

Spike nodded as he joined her on the bed; he'd thought as much. "So, was it
prophetic? What did it tell you?"

She shrugged, still not able to meet his eyes, now blue but oh-so-very-golden in the dream. Spike observed her warily.

"Pe-et" he drew out the nickname in an warning tone, realizing that she was
avoiding telling him something. "What did you dream about?"

She finally looked at him. "Big scary monster in the woods."

Spike started to say "well that doesn't sound--" when Buffy continued in a
low voice.

"You. Getting to me first. Vamping out. Biting me."

Spike pulled back and searched her face. "What are you saying, Buffy? That
you've had a vision of me hurting you?"

He stood quickly and began pacing in front of her, trying to keep the hurt
from his voice and expression.

"Okay, luv. It's got to be something else. It's not like Angelus, where all
of a sudden I go evil and try to kill you, right? I'm me, I've changed, and I'd stake myself before I ever hurt you. So, this dream. You must have
misinterpreted it, right?"

He stopped pacing and knelt down in front of her, tipping her chin up so
that she would meet his frantic gaze.

"Right?" he repeated softly, begging her with his eyes to trust him. Buffy's
eyes filled; how could she believe the man in front of her would ever hurt
her? She flashed to the look on his face when he'd recalled Cecily's words,
her words. 'No', she thought, 'he's right. I must have missed some part of
the dream, or maybe it wasn't even a Slayer dream.'

"Right, you're right. You'd never hurt me." She almost sobbed at the look of desperate relief that crossed his face right before he folded her into his
firm embrace, and she cursed herself for even telling him about the dream.

But if this was his reaction, and hers had been one of doubt, she knew she
couldn't tell Giles or the others about that part of the dream. She'd just
mention the 'Big Bad Something' part and see if anything seemed overly
important, and if not, let it drop.

Hugging him tightly, she nodded to herself. Spike--as he was now--would
never let his demon hurt her.