Buffy struggled underneath Spike, pinned to the tile floor. He looked down
at her, desperation in his eyes, a pained expression on his face.
"Why can't you love me?"
Buffy was writhing, attempting to remove herself from his grasp. "Spike, stop!"
"I'll make you love me again . . ."
Buffy started kicking wildly, managing to land a blow that sent him crashing into the bathroom wall. He looked up at her, his eyes menacing and spiteful.
She struggled to get up from the floor, but he tackled her, sending her sprawling. His fingers fumbled to open the drawstring that held her robe together, a sick smile plastered on his face. Using all the force she could muster, Buffy brought her hands up to his head, and pulled. Buffy gasped and drew back as she realized that she had pulled with so much force that she had literally ripped the skin off of his face.
Buffy dropped the mass of flesh on the tile, staring up at the face of Spike, now only a grinning skull. She gaped in horror at the blood on her hands. His blood. Buffy closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was in the alleyway behind the police station. She noticed Spike's battered and beaten body lying at her feet.
"You always hurt the ones you love, pet."
Buffy raised her bloodied hands to her face, and screamed.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Buffy, Buffy, wake up!"
Her eyes opened with a start as she bolted upright.
"Dawn? What are you doing here?"
"I heard you screaming. I was worried that you were hurt or something, but you were still sleeping. You must have been having a nightmare or something." The girl paused. "What was it about?"
Buffy closed her eyes, relieved. A dream, she thought, it had all been a dream. But did that mean that seeing Spike last night had been a dream too?
"I . . . uh . . . I don't remember now," she lied. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, Buffy's eyes widened.
"Aagh! Dawn, it's 12:30! Why didn't you wake me? I was supposed to be at the Doublemeat two hours ago!"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, it's Saturday, remember?"
Buffy blushed, embarrassed. "Oh."
"You know, you've been acting out of it ever since you came home from patrolling last night. What, did you, like, hit your head on a tombstone or something?"
Buffy smiled and threw a pillow at her sister's head, who ducked, squealing. "Very funny. Look, I gotta get dressed. But do you wanna go grab a bite to eat for lunch or something? You know, kind of make it a 'Girl's Day Out'?"
Dawn frowned. "Sorry, Buffy, but Janice is picking me up in a half an hour to go see a movie."
Buffy looked down at the bedspread, disappointed. "Oh . . ."
Dawn smiled. "But I think I can pencil you in for tomorrow, if you're not busy with your slayerly duties."
Buffy brightened. "Yeah, that sounds great."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Buffy sat on the sofa, deep in thought. Did I really see Spike yesterday, or was that another dream, she wondered, just like the one I had . . . well, this morning, I guess. That was just too weird for words.
Buffy smiled, an idea coming to her. She walked briskly to her room, opening her closet door. Buffy took the box she kept in the very back corner of it; the one that contained Spike's duster, and opened it. The duster was gone.
Spike took it, last night, she realized. So it wasn't a dream after all.
Buffy shoved the box back into her closet and grabbed her coat, pulling it on. I need to talk to him. If he won't come to me, I'll have to go to him . . .
To be continued . . .
"Why can't you love me?"
Buffy was writhing, attempting to remove herself from his grasp. "Spike, stop!"
"I'll make you love me again . . ."
Buffy started kicking wildly, managing to land a blow that sent him crashing into the bathroom wall. He looked up at her, his eyes menacing and spiteful.
She struggled to get up from the floor, but he tackled her, sending her sprawling. His fingers fumbled to open the drawstring that held her robe together, a sick smile plastered on his face. Using all the force she could muster, Buffy brought her hands up to his head, and pulled. Buffy gasped and drew back as she realized that she had pulled with so much force that she had literally ripped the skin off of his face.
Buffy dropped the mass of flesh on the tile, staring up at the face of Spike, now only a grinning skull. She gaped in horror at the blood on her hands. His blood. Buffy closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was in the alleyway behind the police station. She noticed Spike's battered and beaten body lying at her feet.
"You always hurt the ones you love, pet."
Buffy raised her bloodied hands to her face, and screamed.
= = = = = = = = = = = = =
"Buffy, Buffy, wake up!"
Her eyes opened with a start as she bolted upright.
"Dawn? What are you doing here?"
"I heard you screaming. I was worried that you were hurt or something, but you were still sleeping. You must have been having a nightmare or something." The girl paused. "What was it about?"
Buffy closed her eyes, relieved. A dream, she thought, it had all been a dream. But did that mean that seeing Spike last night had been a dream too?
"I . . . uh . . . I don't remember now," she lied. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, Buffy's eyes widened.
"Aagh! Dawn, it's 12:30! Why didn't you wake me? I was supposed to be at the Doublemeat two hours ago!"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Buffy, it's Saturday, remember?"
Buffy blushed, embarrassed. "Oh."
"You know, you've been acting out of it ever since you came home from patrolling last night. What, did you, like, hit your head on a tombstone or something?"
Buffy smiled and threw a pillow at her sister's head, who ducked, squealing. "Very funny. Look, I gotta get dressed. But do you wanna go grab a bite to eat for lunch or something? You know, kind of make it a 'Girl's Day Out'?"
Dawn frowned. "Sorry, Buffy, but Janice is picking me up in a half an hour to go see a movie."
Buffy looked down at the bedspread, disappointed. "Oh . . ."
Dawn smiled. "But I think I can pencil you in for tomorrow, if you're not busy with your slayerly duties."
Buffy brightened. "Yeah, that sounds great."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Buffy sat on the sofa, deep in thought. Did I really see Spike yesterday, or was that another dream, she wondered, just like the one I had . . . well, this morning, I guess. That was just too weird for words.
Buffy smiled, an idea coming to her. She walked briskly to her room, opening her closet door. Buffy took the box she kept in the very back corner of it; the one that contained Spike's duster, and opened it. The duster was gone.
Spike took it, last night, she realized. So it wasn't a dream after all.
Buffy shoved the box back into her closet and grabbed her coat, pulling it on. I need to talk to him. If he won't come to me, I'll have to go to him . . .
To be continued . . .