A/N Hey all!  Here's Part one of Chapter 12, the other parts are all finished and will be up soon.  But, I could always use some convincing….*hint hint*  Enjoy and

Till Next Time:)

Chapter 12: The Tempest (Part One)

So, she wasn't ready to fully open up yet. That was typical Buffy. Complain he wasn't being honest while she willfully misled him.
Those truths ran through Spike's mind as he lay in the middle of his large empty bed. The raindrops provided gentle incidental music to his brooding montage. It was only a matter of time before the music intensified, building up to its climax. Her words, taunting syllables, one by one punched into his brain, disturbingly felt like butterfly kisses, full of mixed messages.
One thing Buffy gave him was infinity. Nothing was ever finale with her. Whether she was aware of it or not, the Slayer always left herself an out. In many cases, Spike admired that; he recognized it as a warrior's careful strategy. But, when it came to the game of love, Spike liked it risky, no ways out. It forced him to put his entire being into its success. Mum would be proud of him. More proud of him than he was of himself. He recalled their arguments but most reverently, he recalled their kiss in the library. It was so soft, virginal even. He tossed and turned in his sheets, visions of her sweet face plaguing him. Then outside the pub. One minute they were fighting again and the next...he was going to kiss her...or she was going to kiss him. He knew it; he saw the decision in her Heavenly orbs. There was only one answer, one way he was going to get sleep, he had to see her, finished what they started on the stoop.
He stood in the hall, the minutes ticking by, with his hands braced against the frame, his forehead against the door. His body took several harsh breaths, each one cutting through his marble chest. Nerves. That feeling would not rest; it clawed through him. The unneeded air he insisted on breathing stabbed his icy insides. The pain only abated as Spike concentrated on the soft noises on the other side of the wooden barrier. Her breathing was even and slow. She sounded peaceful, no trace of a nightmare present. All thoughts of disturbing her rest vanished. Spike turned around and slumped to the floor, his head still against the door. He closed his eyes and let her peace wash over him. If he couldn't produce his own, he could at least feed off of hers. That image was disturbing.
"Now, I'm a letch and a leech."
But, he couldn't bare to move, it felt too good, almost as good as being inside her. There he was content, undiluted bliss. This was a different kind of contentment, separate from the physical. He felt caressed, feather light fingers touching everywhere all at once, like his soul was dancing along ever fiber of his being. Similar to that connection back in Buenos Aires, back in his bedroom, the one that burned him.
"What the hell is this?" he wondered, his fingers roaming aimlessly around his body. If he didn't know better, he'd swear his heart was about to jump-start to life.
Leaping from the floor, he ran into his room. The first thing he did was look for his cigarettes. He was scared and needed the calming affects of nicotine. He grabbed the desired items from his bedside table and lit up. Once he inhaled, his nerves immediately relaxed. "Jesus Christ, Will, get a soddin' grip on yourself." He quickly sucked down his cigarette and popped another one from its pack. "You didn't even touch her and you're going crazy."
The foreign feeling was fading away and he was glad for it. However, soon the deep seeded desire to hit something poured forth. Spike fought it back, banging the violent thoughts into submission. "I'm losing it, really losing it."


The darkness was cool, as cool as the thick grass beneath her feet. Where was she? She was back in the vast land again, but it wasn't as bare as before. There were some kind of ruins, haphazard placement of well worn stones littered across the hill.
She heard nothing, save the pounding of her heart. It was hers, wasn't it? Yes, it was.
Her mind reached out into the black and felt them, two vampires, two very strong vampires. A crack of lightning broke the sky and the heavens began to weep. The rain drenched her in seconds, plastering her hair to her face, making her clothes weigh down her movements.
Then she heard them. Along with her heart and the drops of rain, two breaths, separate and labored. Thunder deafened her ears and bolts illuminated her eyes. She gazed up at the cloudy sky. A faint blue flicker danced above her head, as brief as a firefly. It was joined by several more. And more. And more. And more until the once black sky shined indigo. This blue electricity crackled. She felt the power enveloping her, the potent strength that gave everything around her a quicker pulse.
She didn't feel the ice fingers on her shoulder until she was whipped around. As vibrant as dusk, purple eyes stared into her, shaky deep violet orbs slowly allowing blood tainted tears to stain perfect ivory cheeks. She'd never seen such pain concentrated in one pair of eyes. Full of things never voiced, unwanted memories. But, what was she crying for, for whom? Was she crying for her, was something going to happen to her? Or was she crying for herself? Were those tears of remorse or guilt?
Buffy reached out and touched the reddened cheeks, the eyes close at the peaceful touch. Silence, dulcid silence swept them into the wonders of this night.
A scream ripped them apart.
She looked to the ruins and there was the other vampire, standing on a high platform, a make shift altar. His arms opened to the sky, inviting an unknown guest into him.
Bile rose in her throat, a feeling of complete vacancy, infinite emptiness struck her hard in the chest. She tried to move toward the impending danger. She needed to stop him, he couldn't stay there or all was lost, she knew it with every part of her. She tried yelling, but she had no voice. She tried to move, but something held her tightly, unrelenting. Her heart quickened and tears rushed down her cheeks, falling off her chin as she prepared to be a witness.
The blue electricity shined brightly around the vampire. He stood still, waiting for his moment. He screamed once more. A bolt of lightning shot through the vampire's heart. Everything became white as another one hit.

Crack!

"No!" she cried out.

Buffy shot up in bed, panting, her scream still echoing in her ears. Did she make a sound?

Crack!

She jumped at the thunder. Buffy looked out her window. A fierce storm raged outside over the townhouse. She ran from her bed and out the door. Without thought, she ran to Spike's room.

The door flew open and Buffy's eyes searched the bedroom. She saw his silhouette by the large bay window, a faint orange glow lit up his face,
"Buffy?" he asked. He could see her shivering and breathing heavily. "Buffy love, is everything alright?" He stubbed out his cigarette as Buffy came to him, her hand hovering over her chest.
She fixed her gaze on him and parted his unbuttoned white silk shirt. Whole. Her fingertips pressed into his skin, testing it. They glided across his pecs, over his heart, everything was just how she remembered it.
"You're okay," she whispered. She rested her forehead against him, trying hard to swallow back her wave of nausea.
"Was I not supposed to be?" Spike placed a hand on her back. He felt her shivers and the tension rippled through her muscles. He drew circles over them, willing them to release.
Buffy sank into Spike's arms, tears of relief ran freely from her already burning eyes.
"Love, what happened?" She couldn't bring herself to stop her sobs. "It's alright, pet, I'm fine. Look at me, Buffy." She responded by pulling him tighter against her, her hands clutching at his shirt. Spike managed to lift her chin up to him. His thumb caught her salty tears as it caressed her face. Slowly, her sobs ceased and her tears remained in her glassy eyes.
"Talk to me," he pleaded.
She nodded her head, she was ready to speak now. "I.. I had a dream and... I can't remember everything just yet, but..." She breathed deeply as another sob came out. "There was a storm and we were....somewhere, I don't know, but you were standing out on altar. I couldn't get to you. I tried, Spike, I really tried." Buffy kept sniffing back a new batch of tears as she felt the sadly familiar feeling of failure.
"Shush, pet. I'm sure you did. What happened next?" Spike resumed his soothing motions on her back.
"Lightning. A bolt of lightning tore through you. It seemed so real." Buffy's gaze was again fixed on his fully intact form. Satisfied that it would remain so, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
"No worries, love. I'm electricity free."
"But, Spike, it was a Slayer dream."
"Very well then, I'll stay inside during thunderstorms."
She pushed Spike away from her. "Don't make fun of me, Spike."
"Not making fun, just trying to fix the situation."
Buffy stared out at the storm, her back to the vampire. Didn't he get it? Didn't he see? This has happened before. Her dreams always came true in some interpretation or another. They manifest. She was going to lose him before she even had him and he seemed to think he could kiss it and make it better. "You can't fix this, Spike. It will happen." She felt him move behind her, his coolness ever so close.
"Did I die...again?" he wondered.
She shook her head. "I woke up too soon." Or too late.
"I don't know what to tell you."
"You don't have to say anything." She leaned back against him, following her instincts, which screamed to be with him while she could.
Spike placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly, gently massaged them. He really was at a loss for what to do next. Only a moment ago, he was outside Buffy's room and all seemed well. Now, she was so distraught. She knew her dreams better than he, but he wasn't concerned over his possible demise. He was only concerned with her. The Watcher needed to hear about this first thing in the morning. Until then, Buffy needed to find a way into peaceful sleep.
"Try to think of something else, love."
Buffy sighed as Spike's hand snaked around her tiny waist and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I met Jack two and a half years ago."