Chapter 3
"Ok. If we stay here together, we are sleeping in different beds. Should you come near to my bed I will severely beat you."
"Yeah yeah." Spike pulled out some money. "Here. I'm going to pick up some smokes across the street." He left the lobby of the motel. Buffy sighed and got a room. It wasn't the type of place she had pictured but it was late and they were tired. They would go to the studio the next day.
She tossed her bag down on the faded floral comforter. She supposed she could go visit Angel but since the whole mess with Spike had started she wanted to avoid making it more complicated. She thought of seeing him when she had first come back. It was awkward but it had suspended her pain for just a moment. He had looked so relieved and she knew he was a little sad, not just for her, but because he had just been starting to move on and accept that she was gone.
"Knock knock." Buffy opened the door and Spike entered and flopped down on the other bed. "Where's the remote for the telly."
"I'm tired. I don't want to watch tv."
"Well I do."
"Here." Buffy flung the remote at Spike's head. He dodged it and it broke against the wall.
"What did you do that for?"
"Goodnight." Buffy snapped. "God, I hate you. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Buffy sat down on her bed with crossed arms and turned off the light. She didn't even bother to change. She just wanted to sleep. Spike started humming in the bed next to her. She was about to yell at him when she decided to listen.
"What are you humming?"
"What?…Oh nothing." Spike seemed surprise by her sudden turnaround.
"So if we were in a band, and we like played instruments what would you play?"
"I thought you wanted to sleep?"
"Geez. Goodnight." He could hear her roll over.
"The guitar. I'd play the guitar. Goodnight." He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. After a few minutes he heard her fall asleep, her breathing deep and even, a little raspy. She snored a little, but no annoyingly. He fancied she would be a nice bed partner, little enough that he'd have plenty of room. Mother of God he was in the bed next to her!
Spike clutched the blankets tightly in his fists. When he couldn't sleep instead of counting sheep he usually tried remembering his victims, from first to last but right then it seemed wrong and inappropriate. Instead, to keep his mind off the Slayer next to him he tried making up more songs. Words drifted in and out of his head until he fell asleep.
He knew he was dreaming, as he walked through the streets of Sunnydale, but it wasn't from his perspective. The town seemed to leer at him darkly, and being from darkness it didn't usually scare him, but something about the way he saw it was frightening. Everything was warped and dreary. And then he realized he wasn't in his own dream. He was in Buffy's.
He watched her watching another version of him across the street. He was surprised at the way she saw him. He had forgotten his blue eyes and was slightly embarrassed at the roots in his hair. It was night and they were walking towards the Magic Box. A sense of foreboding surrounded the dream characters.
They entered the shop and Spike followed. The dream spiraled down from there. The room was lit garishly and in the center was Willow, but not as he knew her. To dream Buffy she was a witch, clad in robes and surrounded by a black aura. Spike at last understood what trauma, what the specific thing that was torturing Buffy.
"No. I killed the vamps. It's time to go to bed Willow."
"I have magic to do. Black magic, evil magic."
"Where did the Willow go I remember?" The dream Spike and the real Spike stood silent, watching the scene play out.
"She's gone. She's pathetic. I'm powerful. I play with life and death. I hold your life in my hands Buffy."
"No!" Buffy sounded weak and helpless and Willow started chanting.
Spike woke up when he heard Buffy cry out. He jumped out of his bed and shook her awake. She sobbed hard, gasping for air. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
"You know." She said before collapsing into his arms.
"Ok. If we stay here together, we are sleeping in different beds. Should you come near to my bed I will severely beat you."
"Yeah yeah." Spike pulled out some money. "Here. I'm going to pick up some smokes across the street." He left the lobby of the motel. Buffy sighed and got a room. It wasn't the type of place she had pictured but it was late and they were tired. They would go to the studio the next day.
She tossed her bag down on the faded floral comforter. She supposed she could go visit Angel but since the whole mess with Spike had started she wanted to avoid making it more complicated. She thought of seeing him when she had first come back. It was awkward but it had suspended her pain for just a moment. He had looked so relieved and she knew he was a little sad, not just for her, but because he had just been starting to move on and accept that she was gone.
"Knock knock." Buffy opened the door and Spike entered and flopped down on the other bed. "Where's the remote for the telly."
"I'm tired. I don't want to watch tv."
"Well I do."
"Here." Buffy flung the remote at Spike's head. He dodged it and it broke against the wall.
"What did you do that for?"
"Goodnight." Buffy snapped. "God, I hate you. Why do you have to make everything so difficult?" Buffy sat down on her bed with crossed arms and turned off the light. She didn't even bother to change. She just wanted to sleep. Spike started humming in the bed next to her. She was about to yell at him when she decided to listen.
"What are you humming?"
"What?…Oh nothing." Spike seemed surprise by her sudden turnaround.
"So if we were in a band, and we like played instruments what would you play?"
"I thought you wanted to sleep?"
"Geez. Goodnight." He could hear her roll over.
"The guitar. I'd play the guitar. Goodnight." He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. After a few minutes he heard her fall asleep, her breathing deep and even, a little raspy. She snored a little, but no annoyingly. He fancied she would be a nice bed partner, little enough that he'd have plenty of room. Mother of God he was in the bed next to her!
Spike clutched the blankets tightly in his fists. When he couldn't sleep instead of counting sheep he usually tried remembering his victims, from first to last but right then it seemed wrong and inappropriate. Instead, to keep his mind off the Slayer next to him he tried making up more songs. Words drifted in and out of his head until he fell asleep.
He knew he was dreaming, as he walked through the streets of Sunnydale, but it wasn't from his perspective. The town seemed to leer at him darkly, and being from darkness it didn't usually scare him, but something about the way he saw it was frightening. Everything was warped and dreary. And then he realized he wasn't in his own dream. He was in Buffy's.
He watched her watching another version of him across the street. He was surprised at the way she saw him. He had forgotten his blue eyes and was slightly embarrassed at the roots in his hair. It was night and they were walking towards the Magic Box. A sense of foreboding surrounded the dream characters.
They entered the shop and Spike followed. The dream spiraled down from there. The room was lit garishly and in the center was Willow, but not as he knew her. To dream Buffy she was a witch, clad in robes and surrounded by a black aura. Spike at last understood what trauma, what the specific thing that was torturing Buffy.
"No. I killed the vamps. It's time to go to bed Willow."
"I have magic to do. Black magic, evil magic."
"Where did the Willow go I remember?" The dream Spike and the real Spike stood silent, watching the scene play out.
"She's gone. She's pathetic. I'm powerful. I play with life and death. I hold your life in my hands Buffy."
"No!" Buffy sounded weak and helpless and Willow started chanting.
Spike woke up when he heard Buffy cry out. He jumped out of his bed and shook her awake. She sobbed hard, gasping for air. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
"You know." She said before collapsing into his arms.
