A/N: First, thanks to everyone who's actually gotten this far. This is a different kind of piece for me, and I know it can be a little disorienting and confusing, but I promise, all will be explained in time. Please just be patient and bear with me.

Chapter Four

He was on his knees. He could feel the cold, hard pavement beneath him. It was dark. Night. He looked around, searching for anything recognizable. Then his eyes gazed upward and he saw her.

She was standing in front of him, watching him intently. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then it dawned on him. He had been here before. They had been here before. Many times. The alley behind The Bronze. Why was she staring at him? What did she want? He couldn't seem to remember.

His blood was singing, his body aroused and acutely aware of her presence - her scent, the sound of her breathing. He got up and stood in front of her. He knew this moment. Knew it somewhere in the back of his mind. She wanted something from him. What was it?

His mind was a blur. "Buffy." It was all he could manage.

"Get out of my sight, Spike. Now." There was a look of pure loathing in her eyes.

What had he done wrong? "Buffy, I . . ."

"I mean it."

Her rage was infectious. He could feel it beginning to course through his own body, overpowering him. Suddenly, he knew just what to say. His eyes narrowed and he advanced on her. "So do I. Give it me good Buffy," he taunted. "Do it."

"Spike."

He stared down at her, captivated by the fire in her eyes. God, how he wanted her. She was all he had ever wanted. Overcome by his own emotions, he moved in to kiss her.

She pulled back, clearly horrified. "What the hell are you doing?"

He grabbed her. "Come on. I can feel it Slayer. You know you wanna dance."

"Say it's true, say I do want to," she tried to push him away, but he held his grip firm. "It wouldn't be you Spike. It would never be you. You're beneath me."

"Beneath you?" he asked, a dark edge to his voice. "I'll show you 'beneath you.'" He pulled her to him and kissed her violently.

Desperately, she struggled to break free, but he wouldn't let her go. So, he wasn't good enough for her, huh? He'd show her.

Spike forced her to the ground and covered her body with his own. "Who's beneath you now, Slayer?"

"Let go of me."

"No, no, no. I want to hear you say it."

She tried to jerk her wrists from his iron grip. "Say what?"

"That you feel it too. That you love me." He released her wrists and let his hands move down her body.

"No."

She struggled violently, doing anything she could to break free, but he wouldn't let her go. She wanted him, she needed him. And he was going to prove it to her. He held her fast and stared down at her, his eyes wild and tormented. The words came rushing back to him. "I know you felt it . . . when I was inside you . . ." he began, but she didn't let him finish.

Summoning all her strength, Buffy pushed him away, and scrambled out from under him. It didn't take Spike long to recapture her. Instinctively he grabbed for her, catching her by the ankle and dragging her back to him. He turned her over and straddled her once again. "You'll feel it again, Buffy . . . I'm gonna make you feel it." He tore at the coat she was wearing and laid his hand on her breast. Then he moved lower to explore the rest of her body.

He could feel her struggling, hear her pleading with him to stop. But he wouldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He would take what was his. It was only fitting. He was a monster, after all. And it was about damn time she realized it.

"Stop, please!" she screamed, but he wouldn't listen.

He tore at her clothing, and in one reckless moment, he pushed himself inside of her.

Buffy screamed again, the sound reverberating though his brain. Suddenly, all he could hear was her screaming. The sound consuming him, enveloping him.

A moment later, Spike woke up in a fury of terror.

Spike opened his eyes and pulled himself up, leaning against the cold wall of the cave. Why wouldn't it stop? What did he have to do to make it stop?

For weeks he had been haunted. Every night it was the same. So, the places weren't always the same, the circumstance sometimes different, but it was always her. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. And every time he allowed himself to sleep, he dreamed of raping her. God, now he knew what eternal torment was. There was no damnation like the damnation of a guilty soul. It plagued him, night after night. Never letting him forget. Never letting him have a moment's rest. He knew he didn't deserve peace, but it didn't make it any less painful. It killed him that he had tried to hurt Buffy. He died every time he saw her in his dreams. He had never meant to hurt her. But he knew he had.

Spike pushed himself up, using the wall for support. He was now living in an ancient cave he had found on the edge of the African plain. The villagers who had rescued him, had become too much for him to bear. He wanted to die, and they wouldn't let him. He had come here to find the courage to end his existence. He just hadn't quite managed it yet. Every morning when he looked outside at the bright, rising sun, he'd swear to himself that this was the day. And then, a nagging voice in the back of his head would say, "But have you suffered enough?" Every day, he realized the answer was "No." He could never suffer enough for what he had done to Buffy. He deserved to suffer in torment for all eternity.