Uh-oh.
Buffy stood numbly staring at the place Halfrek had occupied mere seconds ago, internalized panic turning her legs to rubber. Ooooh what did I just do?
I said "I wish".
I said "I wish" to a vengeance demon! Crap, I must be out of my mind! Stupid tricky demon! Stupid tired brain!
She scrambled to recall just what exactly she had wished for, reaching for clues to indicate how out of hand things could get.
But her words seemed so inconsequential.
To be more honest with her friends? That was all… How bad could that be?
She swallowed. That's ok, right? I mean I can choose to be more honest with them so… maybe Halfrek will just make them… uh… listen harder?
I mean that doesn't sound like the worst thing ever. An "Everyone Listen To Buffy" wish? How wrong could that possibly go?
She took a deep shivery breath in, and back out again, unlocking her fingers from their fists and stretching them out.
It'll be alright.
It'll be fine…
Denial carried her upstairs to her room, and exhaustion did the rest of the work. She slumped down on her bed still in her coat, casting her eye dejectedly to the overflowing laundry basket. Which spurred on thoughts of all the cleaning to do downstairs.
The vacuuming to do. So many dust bunnies had started collecting in the corners.
And the trash to take out. There were already two full sacks waiting by the door.
Buffy groaned, curling into a fetal position on top of her comforter. Even waking up in a coffin hadn't felt so buried alive-ish. So chokingly oppressive. Too much to do. Always too much to do.
I'll just lie down for a second. Just a minute, and then I'll do the laundry and take a shower and make a start on the housework and maybe order a pizza with the negative dollars I have in the bank…
Sleep overtook her before she could finish her bitter internal checklist, pulling her down into sweet dark dreams.
Of him.
They seemed to be all she could conjure up anymore. Her only respite and her biggest torment simultaneously.
Darkness surrounded her but she wasn't alone in it. The edges came together slowly. A room with stone walls. His crypt, perhaps, but not quite. Rearranged the way dreams always do.
"Buffy…" Spike purred.
She couldn't see his face. The way it was buried in her neck as she knelt over him obscured her vision, but in the dream his lips caught a nerve underneath her ear and her spine arched in response. His tongue caressed the column of her throat, up her jaw to her mouth.
Buffy groaned. He was inside her, buried deeply and her hips swayed, reaching out instinctively towards him as she ground lower onto him, sparking quivering currents of electric fire where they were joined.
She moved to wrap an arm around his shoulders to anchor herself enough to lean back, to deeper the angle but found she couldn't.
Something clinked.
Handcuffs?
She moved her arm again and found it weighted down.
Chains, thick as ropes. Light dappled the links of one heavy chain encircling her left arm like a snake.
She tugged gently at it, curious and amused. This was a new game between them, granted, but it had escalated even further it seemed.
"…Do you even like me?" Spike asked in a reverent whisper as his arms wound about her waist.
Buffy stared transfixed at the chain, following the line of it. The end disappeared off into impenetrable shadows. There was something menacing about that. Something not right. It rattled every time she moved and she tried to wriggle her hand out of its coils but it only tightened, as if sentiently refusing to let go.
"Do you?" Spike persisted.
"Sometimes," she answered, distracted, and jerked as a second chain whipped around her wrist, below the first one, biting into the flesh-
"Hey!-" She pulled at it, and it pulled back, yanking her off Spike's lap with a violent tug that in her panicked mind she imagined could dislocate her arm clear out of her shoulder.
Spike caught her free wrist, stopping her from being dragged clean across the floor into the dark, fingers digging in as he tried to pull her back.
"Do you love me?" he asked, sounding frantic as the chains heaved. Her arms spread in opposing directions making her ribcage ache and her shoulders burn as he held on tight, his eyes pleading with so much heartbreak it hurt more than the chains.
"I-" she tried to pull her arms shut, to reach back for him but couldn't close the distance. She shook her head desperately. "I don't. Spike- I can't."
Another chain whipped round her throat and choked her lie, hauling her out of his arms and into the dark—
Buffy lurched awake, gasping, clawing at the hood of her coat. It had gotten twisted around in the night and was choking her.
"Argh!" She ripped it off and hurled it across the room, taking deep shuddering breaths in as the dream's horror ebbed.
Buttery early-morning light dazzled her eyes and she felt dejection sweep through her.
No, how can it be morning?! A pitiful sob tumbled from her lips. How can it already be morning?! I only fell asleep for a second!
The sound of a loud engine rumbling away down the street jerked her head towards the window.
Oh no! No no no no!
The garbage!
She sprinted for the door, tearing herself down the steps and nearly twisting an ankle as she grabbed the bags of trash waiting by the front door and hurled herself out into the unforgiving Sunnydale sunshine.