Chapter Three

Everything was black. There was a low rumbling sound all around her. She could feel the earth shaking beneath her feet. Nearly losing her balance, she reached out to steady herself, her hand instinctively slipping around the sleek, cold, metal bar beside her. Suddenly, the lights flashed back on, and Buffy found herself in another nightmare.

He was standing in front of her, more cocky and self-assured than she had ever seen him. There was a lust for blood and violence in his eyes that was chilling. He moved toward her stealthily, like a predator waiting to make its first move. Buffy barely had time to register her surroundings before he came at her, striking her soundly with his fist.

She tried to return the blow, but he was too quick for her, punching her again and again. Buffy's head was swimming. It was all too much to take in. She was fighting Spike. But not her Spike. New York Spike. The Spike who had killed the second Slayer. They were on the subway; the movement of the car disorienting, the swiftness of his attack too much to comprehend.

Buffy fought to regain her composure. He threw another punch, but this time she was able to block it, countering with her own attack. She hit him hard in the face, and then kicked him in the stomach.

Buffy retreated several steps, trying to regain some ground, trying to assess the situation. He was going to kill her. He wanted to kill her. She could see it in his eyes. This was fun for him. A game.

A slow smile spread across his lips as he regained his control and moved toward her. Buffy knew she was fighting for her life. She looked around her, trying to find some sort of weapon, but there was precious little at her disposal. She grabbed onto the pole beside her and swung herself around, her feet making contact with his chest as she did so. He fell onto the bench beside him, and Buffy made her move.

Advancing on him quickly, she pounded into him once again, her fists doing all the work. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he was going to get. She lashed out at him, trying to summon up the fury she knew she should be feeling, trying to calm the fear that threatened to overpower her.

They had never fought like this before. There was no wordplay, no verbal sparring between them. Just the cold, hard reality of fist against flesh. It was frightening. She didn't know him, couldn't connect with him. When he looked at her, all he saw was his prey. There was no recognition behind his familiar blue eyes. In spite of the fact that her life was at stake, Buffy desperately wanted to see that recognition, desperately wanted to make that connection with him. But no matter how many times she struck him, she couldn't break through.

Finally, Spike was able to counter her attack, grabbing one of her fists and pushing her away from him. She landed hard on the seat behind her. He got up, and advanced toward her. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up to stand in front of him. Then he took another swing and hit her again. And again.

Buffy had had enough. In an effortless move, she swept her leg behind his, knocking him off balance, and sending him to the floor. She wasn't going to let him kill her. Not for anything.

Before he could move, Buffy came down on top of him, straddling his body. She pulled out her stake and held it to his chest. He stared up at her, defiant, a look of satisfaction still in his eyes. She raised the stake to strike, but suddenly, everything went black.

Momentarily disoriented, Buffy lost her hold on the stake, as Spike's hands snaked up and grabbed her wrists. She heard the sickening clank of wood against metal, as it hit the floor beside her. Buffy struggled to keep the advantage, tightening the grip she had on his body with her knees, but it was too much. Her mind thick with confusion, he overpowered her, and flipped her onto her back.

When the lights came back on, Buffy found herself beneath him. He had his hands wrapped around her neck, and she knew what was coming. She didn't want to die. She didn't have a death wish. Suddenly, she realized, she wanted something else.

He let go of her neck, intent on repositioning his hands so he could break it, instead of strangling her. Buffy used the opportunity to take what she wanted.

In one movement, she brought both her hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss her. She devoured his mouth, seeking the deep satisfaction she had been so long denied.

He seemed stunned at first, but quickly gave in to her advances, reaching down her body and touching her intimately.

Buffy wanted this, more than anything. She wanted him. To feel him inside her. It didn't matter what he looked like, or where they were. This was Spike. And God help her, she wanted Spike.

Buffy ran her hands along his back pulling him closer. He moved to lay flush on top of her, and then parted her legs to settle between them. Buffy moaned at his touch. He wanted her too, and he was going to take her.

In an instant, life and death and sex were all wrapped up in each other. She needed him to live, needed him to die.

Not a single word was spoken, as he pushed her clothing aside and penetrated her in one hard movement. Buffy nearly screamed in ecstasy, at the feel of him inside her.

He rode her hard. Suddenly, he was more beast than man; the bloodlusting demon that he had always been. Buffy lost herself in it, reveling in the feel of his body commanding hers. She heard him growl, felt his face change against her neck. He was going to bite her, and she didn't care. She threw back her head, giving him complete access to the tender flesh of her throat. He pulled back and then sunk his fangs deeply into her neck. Buffy cried out, as he made contact, her body already beginning to spasm with fulfillment.

Suddenly, the alarm clock went off.

Buffy opened her eyes, a thrill of shock still coursing through her body. She leaned over slowly and hit the "sleep" button. Unable to make any other movement, she lay back down, and pulled the covers snuggly up against her chest.

What was wrong with her? It was getting worse. Her dreams - which had begun a week ago with her comparatively harmless encounter with William - had rapidly escalated into something more. They were becoming more violent - more passionate - with each passing night. And it was beginning to scare her.

So far Buffy had seen some amazingly disturbing things. She had been with Spike in each one of her dreams, at different moments in his life. She had been with him in London, then China, and innumerable points in between. Now she could add New York to the list. Every dream ended with her seducing him and then him biting her. It was a disturbing pattern. A disturbing pattern that left her hot and trembling every night. Oh God, she prayed it would stop. She'd had about all she could take.

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, only to find that when she did, she could still see Spike moving on top of her. She opened them again, and took several deep, steadying breaths.

"All right Buffy. Now you know that was not good. What is wrong with you?!"