Part Three

Spike opened his eyes, gasping. He looked over to his side. Buffy was sound asleep, snuggled up to him, her head resting in the crook of his neck and her arm slung across his waist. She was fine. Unharmed.

It was a dream. That's all. Just a dream. But...why have that dream? He looked down at his sleeping angel. He loved her. Loved her with his whole being.

He attacked her. Drank her blood. Why did he dream that? He'd never hurt her. Especially like that. But...he liked it.

He liked it.

He wanted it.

Spike sat up abruptly, jostling Buffy, waking her.

"Spike?" she mumbled sleepily. She sat up, too. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her. At her neck. He remembered the dream. The feel of her blood flowing down his throat. He remembered the feel of her struggling beneath him.

Buffy reached for him, "Spike?"

He jerked away from her touch. A look of hurt flashed across her face. "Spike?"

"I'm sorry, pet," he got out of the bed. Out of her reach.

"What are you doing?" Worry and fear crept into her voice. Please, don't leave me, she thought.

"Go back to sleep, luv. I'll be back. There's just something I need to do before the sun rises."

She looked at the digital clock next to the bed, while he dressed himself. "But that's a little over two hours from now."

"I know."

She continued to look at him skeptically and worriedly. He walked to her and kissed her, trying to soothe her worries. And, maybe his, too.

"It'll be fine. I'll be back. Now, sleep."

She nodded reluctantly and he left.

He prowled the cemeteries. He needed to kill something. Anything. It didn't matter. All he knew was that he had to control his bloodlust before he returned home.

Home. He laughed inwardly. He thought of Buffy's home as his. He wondered if she felt the same. Of course, what difference would it make if he couldn't control his bloodlust and ended up....

He shook his head. Spike would not allow his thoughts to return to that dreaded topic. He'd control it. There was no other way. He had to.

But first, he had to kill something. And that something growled behind him. He turned around. A Fyarl demon stood before him.

Spike rolled his eyes. Not much of a challenge but it'd have to do. Sun's coming up soon. Didn't have the time.

The demon continued to stare at Spike, growling menacingly.

"Well, come on. Haven't got all night," he moved to his attack stance, "Let's you and me have a go."

He charged. The Fyarl, too slow to dodge effectively, was hammered with a flying kick. It stumbled but did not fall. It swung its arm out in an attempt to knock the vampire down.

But Spike ducked, and rammed the Fyarl. They both landed on the ground. Spike straddled the demon and punched it in the face. He managed to do this a few times before the Fyarl's slow mind kicked in enough for it to counteract; it grabbed Spike's fist and flung him over itself.

Both got to their feet and Spike launched himself at it again. A roundhouse kick here, a left hook there. Spike finally managed to get the Fyarl were he wanted him. He worked his way behind the demon and, with a twist, snapped its neck.

Though satisfied with the kill, Spike's bloodlust was not. But he didn't have time to satisfy it. It took him too long to find the Fyarl. The dark sky was beginning to lighten. It was time to go home...unless he wanted to become a crispy critter.

He entered the dark house, closing the door quietly. No need to wake anyone up. He started to move up the stairs, back to Buffy, but the dream stopped him. No. He couldn't go up there. He couldn't take the chance.

Sighing, he plopped down on the couch and reached for the remote. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep now. Too wired. That and his dreams have been less than pleasing. He flipped through the channels before settling on an old rerun of Saturday Night Live.

He ended up falling asleep after all. He had slept through the morning between Willow and Dawn. Missed Dawn leaving for school. Both girls, while confused, did not ask why Spike was downstairs and not with Buffy.

He woke up later with a surprise kick in the shin. His eyes snapped open. Standing above him was an apparently upset Slayer.

"Buffy?"

"Why didn't you come back to bed?" she asked, slightly hurt.

He couldn't tell her. He wanted to. Maybe she'd help him. But...he couldn't risk it. He needed to understand it first. Then he'd tell her...if it wasn't too late.

"Well?" she interrupted his thoughts.

He stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry, pet," he proceeded to nuzzle her neck, in an attempt to distract her attention.

And it was working. He heard her release a small giggle. He smiled against her neck.

"Stop that," she said, smiling, "I'm still mad at you."

He pulled away, "Well, then, by all means, punish me."

She playfully slapped him on the chest, "Pig."

"And you love it," he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She gave it to him, capturing his lips with hers, pouring all her love into it. Spike's hands roamed from her waist to her back and through her hair. She moaned into his mouth.

"Get a room already."

They broke apart quickly to see Xander standing in the foyer, a smirk on his face.

"Xander, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked, trying to pretend he didn't catch Spike and her in the middle of something private.

"He's helping us move out," Willow said as she and Tara came down the stairs.

Spike and Buffy shared a look. Neither knew about this.

"Move out?" Spike asked.

Tara nodded.

"You guys don't have to-" Buffy protested.

"It's okay. We've been planning this for a while now," Tara said.

"How come we didn't know anything about it?"

Tara smirked, "You've been really busy lately."

Spike grinned while Buffy blushed.

"Okay, maybe so. But, does Dawn know? If she comes home and realizes you aren't here anymore, she'll be crushed."

Willow spoke," She knows. In fact, she wanted to help us move."

Buffy nodded, "Okay. Let Spike and me help then."

"Sure."

Willow pressed the tape against the box, sealing it, "And that's the last."

Everyone looked around the room. It no longer held any trace of the two witches. Now, it was bare. Lacking a certain sense of individuality.

"Wow, you guys really moving out, huh?" Buffy said.

"Yep, looks like," Will said.

"Aww, I'm gonna miss you two," Buffy said, drawing the redhead into a hug.

Willow smiled, "It's okay, Buffy. We'll be over here all the time. You'll hardly noticed we moved out."

Buffy pulled away, "Mean it?"

Willow nodded.

"Okay," Buffy said, then pulled Tara into a hug.

Dawn, who'd been home for a couple of hours, looked at her sister, "Buffy, can I spend the night wither them, help 'em move in?" Her eyes moved over to Will and Tara, "If it's okay you guys, of course."

Tara nodded, "I don't have a problem with it." She looked at Willow, "Do you have a problem?"

She shook her head, "Nope."

Dawn grinned and looked back at Buffy, "So, can I?"

"I guess."

She squealed, "Yay!"

"So, we're all alone," Buffy said as she and Spike watched Xander's car drive off.

Spike slipped his arms around her waist from behind. "Whatever will we do?"

She turned around in his arms and kissed him. She ran her hands across his chest and down south. He groaned and pulled away.

Leaning his forehead against hers, he said, "Well, we *could* do that."

She grinned.

He reached for her hands and led her to the kitchen, "But, first, I'm making you dinner."

She laughed as he seated her on one of the stools. He grabbed the phone next to her on the island.

"Hey, that's cheating," she said as he began dialing.

He looked at her, "If you think I'm gonna get behind that stove, wear a bloody apron and look like a ponce, you've got another thing coming." He spoke into the phone, "Yeah, Tony's?"

Buffy laughed.

He kissed her gently, lovingly. He broke away from her lips and kissed her forehead. Her nose. Her cheeks. Everywhere. He moved down to her neck.

Without warning, he felt his face contort into that of the demon's. He felt his teeth cut through her flesh. He felt her hot blood seep into his throat. And that's when he lost it.

He pulled her roughly to him and drank. Fervently. It had been so long. He felt her slacken. He held onto her, not allowing her to fall.

"S-Spike?" he heard her say weakly.

And that returned him to reality. He released her quickly and she collapsed, unconscious. He stumbled back toward the door. Oh, God, what did he do?

He turned and ran.

Ran to the only place he knew to get help.

He ran to LA.

End Part Three