She stirs as he re-enters the room, watches the silhouette of him in the dark as he strips down. She keeps her eyes fixed on him.
The way he moves, it's definitely Spike. A sort of lilting swagger.
Did I imagine all of it earlier?
William's timid eyes. The softness of his touch. The depth of his emotion...
She lifts her head off the pillow, propping herself up on an elbow.
"Everything ok?"
"Yeah, s'fine." He slides in next to her.
He feels her gaze burning into him. He looks back at her. There's something there, behind those eyes.
He turns in towards her, resting a hand on her hip, head resting on and elbow.
"What's the matter?"
Is he still in there? I know I saw him. I know it...
She moves to turn the bedside lamp on, so she can see him properly. He winces a little at the sudden brightness but doesn't turn away from her. He strokes her skin, pulling her in a bit closer to him. He shifts so that his arm is under her head. He runs the back of his hand down her cheek.
"What's going on in that pretty head?"
She moves his hand away, studying every part of his face.
He was there. I want to see him again... what did I do? How do I... reach passed...
The intensity of her gaze is making him nervous.
She reaches up to his hair and brushes her fingers through it but he doesn't relax into it, as much as he wants to. She sighs impatiently, closing the distance between them, holding his head in her hands. Holding his gaze. He moves his head, trying to loosen her grip.
"Much as I enjoy soulfully staring into each others eyes, Slayer, I'm starting to feel more like a bug under a microscope." He pulls her hands away, resting them on his chest.
No pulse.
The look on her face... like she's lost. It pulls at his gut, twists like a knife.
He sits up, propping himself up in the pillows. He pulls her up and into him, cradling her in his lap. She wraps an arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his.
Cheek to cheek.
He wraps the sheet around them and she relaxes a little more.
They both settle back.
"Tell me what's wrong."
She shakes her head.
"It doesn't matter."
Maybe it doesn't matter... if I don't see him again. The thought tugs at her heart painfully. Those tawny curls. The soft blue eyes. Such a kind face looking through Spike, aching for her. That's just the way it goes, isn't it. I fall in love and they leave.
But that's not true this time. He's in there somewhere...
She pulls back a little so she can look at him again, stroking his cheek.
He sighs as her fingers trail over his skin.
"Buffy." She's stroking his chest, soft white skin glowing in the lamplight. Her other hand is massaging a point behind his ear, stroking the back of his neck.
She kisses his jaw, tilting his head a little. He moans gently as her lips work their way round to his throat.
I'm drowning in her...
"I love you...," her lips find his. A tender kiss, like the first she ever gave.
He's never felt a kiss like this before, like starting from the beginning again.
"I love you Buffy," the scent of her hair, of her skin, filling him to the brim, "I love you. I love you."
There's a tremble in his voice and she pauses for a moment.
Is it...?
She pulls back to look but his eyes are closed.
"Are you here with me?"
He opens his eyes. It's faint but there, a small softening of his features, not as sharp and hard as Spike.
They fall back on the bed, entwined around each other, legs and arms clinging to one another.
"Buffy, I-," he freezes. She pulls back a little.
"What's-"
"Ow."
"Ow?"
"OW- AAH-AAAAA!"
He falls back away from her panting, body rigid, back arching, fingers clawing at his throat.
"God, no! Please! PLEASE!"
IT'S BITING ME TO DEATH
He screams as something sinks its teeth deep into his neck, thick jagged fangs clamping down on his throat.
"Spike, whats-" Buffy reaches towards him but pulls back. Deep gashes claw themselves across his chest, cutting through him. She watches as some invisble jaw rips his throat open. He screams and she sees bite marks sink into his neck.
Whatever it is pulls its teeth out of him for a moment, sharp claws puncturing his skin.
You thought you could cast me out.It growls in his ear and he realises it's his own voice. I won't be thrown out, William.
"Please... no," he chokes out, blood oozing in his throat, drowning his words.
He's in a dark room, no light, no warmth. Blood pouring down his neck. With IT. He coughs up the blood in his throat. The beast is getting closer, hot rancid breath on his face. The smell of blood in the air.
Buffy watches, struck numb with horror, as Spike's face changes, brow creasing as fangs push down through over his teeth. He howls in agony, sharp daggers slicing through soft gums. His mouth fills with blood, flowing from his lips, down his neck.
Feed me.
Spike shakes his head, mouth too raw to speak. It sinks it's teeth into him again and a strangled sob escapes his throat.
Feed. Me.
No.
A clawed hand strangles his neck from behind, talons pushing through, breaking the skin, slicing open his windpipe.
Now.
"Buffy," the blood in his mouth floods his lungs and he coughs it up, spraying the sheets, "Blood... Fridge... Now."
Buffy runs, feet pounding down the stairs, nearly stumbling over the last one.
At the fridge she pulls out everything, letting it all fall to the floor. She finally finds the blood pack at the back of the top shelf.
Her fingers grip it, but as she turns it slips from her hands tumbling across the floor. For one heart stopping moment she thinks it's going to burst, but it doesn't.
She scoops it back up into her hand and sprints back up the stairs, taking them 2 at time.
When she pushes into Spike's hand he sinks his teeth straight through the plastic, sucking it dry.
Once it's empty he falls back against the sheets, panting. The rips and claw marks close on his skin, melting like snow in the sun.
All but the bites on his neck.