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Rewind. Shuffle. Replay. by cloud_forest
 
Nightmares
 
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 Author's Note: I just want to thank you all for your patience with this story. I know there's been a lot of back-and-forth and angst and will-they-or-won't-they... and I can't promise that's gonna end right away. I'm not doing it because I enjoy it, believe me... I'm doing it because this is where the characters need to be right now. So again, thank you for being awesome and wonderful, and continuing to read/comment. This has been one helluva ride so far, and it's still barely begun :)


 
Buffy felt him before she heard him. Only after discovering he was a vampire had she begun to pay attention to that tickling sensation where her spine met her sacrum. Plucking out a few chords on the nerves there, which then echoed through her extremities and deep down into her gut. Spike had his very own tune, too. Most of the other vamps she stumbled upon ricocheted through her like some generic commercial jingle. Noisy and obnoxious and easily forgotten. His was one she wished she could keep on replay. Just a continuous loop of Spike tinglies all day, every day.
 
“So, did I happen to down a bag of tainted blood, or was there actually a swarm of giant wasps flying around on Friday?”
 
“No, definitely no hallucinating. It was… kind of a whole big thing.”
 
“Wait.” Frowning, he pulled her to a stop with a hand at her elbow. “Does this also mean that I’m not being forced to go on tour as a replacement for one of the Spice Girls?”
 
A shout of laughter burst out of her at that. “What?”
 
“Bloke came storming into my place that very day. Tried shuffling me onto some tour bus- in broad bloody daylight, might I add –saying that Sparky Spice or Salty Spice or somesuch had gotten injured, and now they needed me to fill in. Tried showing a little fang to get him to bugger off, but the little twerp wouldn’t budge.”
 
“Spike. Are you being serious right now?”
 
“As a fucking A-bomb. Know it’s been a few days since it happened, but… I’m still expecting him to come charging in again. Seemed bloody set on having me join the troupe. When I wouldn’t budge, he said he was off to make some arrangements and he’d be back to pick me up.”
 
“And… you didn’t clue in that something was fishy when he was asking you to, I don’t know… join the Spice Girls?”
 
Spike just glared at her, clearly traumatized by the experience. More for the damage it did to his pride than out of fear, no doubt.
 
“Okay. Then, you definitely win,” she said, still laughing. “Clowns and stage-fright got nothin’ on the Spice Girls.”
 
“I’m getting the impression that you know what the hell was going on, then?”
 
She nodded, explaining to him about Billy being in the coma, and the baseball coach who’d put him there. How the wonderful mystical Hellmouthy goodness they were surrounded by had made everyone else’s nightmares come true along with Billy’s.
 
“Bloody hell.”
 
“That about sums it up,” she agreed, kicking at a rock as she strode forward. “Which brings me back to the part where your worst nightmare is tagging in for one of the Spice Girls.”
 
“Not exactly my worst nightmare, pet,” he drawled, slanting one eye at her. “Vampire, here. Got a lot of nasties rolling around in the old cranium.”
 
“But you said-”
 
“Had a couple of other… incidents… but being that we live on the Hellmouth, those didn’t seem quite as unbelievable as the other.”
 
Buffy refused to consider what her life had become when the appearance of demons and ghouls were a more reasonable occurrence than an agent for a pop music group. “Oh. Okay, well, in that case… no need to elaborate. Consider the picture gotten by me.”
 
“So what about you, then?” he asked after they’d walked a few yards in silence.
 
“What about me what?”
 
“Well, I showed you mine. Gonna return the favour, pet?”
 
Buffy came to a slow stop then, watching him get a couple of paces ahead of her before doing the same. He wanted her to tell him about her nightmares. There would probably be no hesitation on her end if they’d been anything like those of her friends. Their nightmares had just been embarrassing. Okay, yeah, so Xander’s thing with the clowns was probably pretty terrifying, but… the things she’d experienced were so much… more. They were deep, personal fears. Little black seeds that infiltrated not just the folds of her cerebral cortex, but the crevices of her soul.
 
She wasn’t sure she was ready to share that kind of information with Spike. Especially since after everything, she had no idea where they stood with each other anymore.
 
Still… being with him right now, it was like none of that- the questions, the confusion –mattered. As if they were back to being two people who cared about each other. Two people who understood each other, who just wanted to be there for one another.
 
And that was something she could really, really use these days. That ear to chew on. The shoulder to lean against. Willow and Xander were great, and they did their best when they could, but… they just didn’t understand the places she had to go sometimes.
 
They never would.
 
Spike, on the other hand… he knew about the dark places. He’d owned property in the dark places for over a century. Hell, he’d created some of that darkness all by himself.
 
It made it easy… almost irresistible… to talk to him about these things.
 
“I was supposed to visit my Dad for the weekend. I mean, I did, but that day he showed up at school early, said we needed to talk. H-he told me that…” Buffy hesitated, wondering how much she wanted to tell him. She hadn’t even repeated any of this to Willow. There hadn’t seemed to be much point. It wasn’t real, so why dwell on it? She’d just gotten back from a fantastic weekend with him, full of shopping and a trip to the beach and dinner in a snazzy restaurant. She knew he still loved her as much as he always had.
 
But she still couldn’t shake the memory of her father saying those things to her… the frank expression on his face, the casual tone of his voice. As if it were all something he’d accepted as true long, long ago. “Well, pretty much that he regretted ever having me, and that I was a disappointment in every way imaginable, and that’s why him and my Mom got divorced.”
 
Spike’s face contorted into a look of anguish as she told him this, and he stepped closer to her. “Oh, pet,” he lifted his index finger to let it trail along a lock of hair hanging by her face.
 
“It’s okay, really. I know… I know that it wasn’t him.”
 
“Yeah, but, you didn’t at the time. Must’ve near cracked you in half.”
 
“To put it plainly, yeah.”
 
“Of course, that was just the salad before the main course. Or, maybe it was more like the side dish. ‘Cause the two of them were definitely on the same plate.”
 
Amusement was now threaded through the concern on his face. A small laugh fluttered out of him. “What d’you mean?”
 
Buffy looked up at him. “I… sort of spent act two of that day as a vampire.”
 
He blinked. Opened his mouth, frowned, and blinked a second time. “Come again?”
 
“The Master got free for a little while. ‘Cause of all the mojo Billy was working. He found me in a cemetery, and buried me alive.” A shudder ran through her at the thought. It had seemed like only seconds passed between the time that the coffin lid closed on her, and when she was clawing up out of the earth, but they had been seconds too long. “When I finally climbed out… I… I was a vampire. Fangs, bloodlust, and all. Except, somehow I was also still me, so… hooray for not having the urge to massacre my friends right from the start.”
 
“You…” the word came out almost as a whisper. His eyes were pinned to her, roaming over her face, but it was almost as if he was looking through her, at something just below the surface. “You really…?”
 
“I really.”
 
“God…” He raised his fingers to her cheeks, though they hovered there, not actually touching her flesh. “Bet…” He swallowed, as if his voice was squeaking out around a boulder in his throat. “Bet you were just gorgeous.”
 
His words struck her like a cannonball. It felt as though someone had injected crushed ice into her veins, the fragments scraping through the muscular passageways; cold and harsh and painful. “I… what?” She took two big steps back from him. “What the hell does that mean?”
 
Spike dropped his head, blowing a sigh out of his nose as his jaw clenched. “Bollocks. Said that out loud, did I?”
 
“Yeah, little bit,” she ground out. Another step backwards. She didn’t even recognize him anymore. One minute she’d been standing in front of the first person she’d had real feelings for since she’d lived in LA, finding it hard to remember why she wasn’t asking him to ask her out for coffee some time, and the next…
 
Now she remembered. Remembered that he was a vampire. A vampire who’d killed two Slayers before invading her life. Who had a soul, yeah, but… he’d executed one of those Slayers while he had it, so apparently he was just a killer.
 
“How… how could you say that to me?” she asked, feeling her forehead contorting back and forth between anguish and outrage. She was angry at him now. Because even though he was all of those things- vampire, vampire with a soul, slayer of Slayers –it had seemed that somehow, he had the capacity to care for her.
 
An illusion he’d just ripped away.
 
“You do remember that I was living in my worst. Nightmare. When that was happening, don’t you?” She shook her head, glaring at him, not even trying to dampen the hurt and betrayal in her gaze. “God, Spike, how can you even think that I-”
 
“Because it’s what I am, you daft little…!” he shouted, stomping forward to close the distance between them again. “You do remember that, don’t you?” he growled, throwing her words back at her. In the next second, his face morphed into its demon mould, golden eyes and ridges staring down at her. 
 
Buffy cringed a little. She hadn’t been expecting this anger from him. “Of course I do.”
 
“You sure about that?” he squinted at her as best he could, the structures of his demon visage not allowing for much mobility in that region. “’Cause it seems to me, you like to imagine that the demon just vanishes because you can’t see him anymore. But it’s always here, pet. Always just below the surface. You kiss me, you’re kissing it, too.”
 
Buffy didn’t know how they’d gotten here. From what had started out as a friendly conversation, to confessing their nightmares to each other, to confronting the very thing that had been keeping them apart up until this point. Spike was right though. Despite what she’d said, for a while now she had been thinking of him as just the guy she couldn’t be with because of general badness. The ‘vampire’ factor in the equation was something she had started to ignore because… well, her life was weird enough as it was without the constant reminder that she had feelings for one of the things she had a duty to slay.
 
And… she was trying to take Sid’s advice to heart. About holding onto the thing that made her happy.
 
Or, the thing that did make her happy right up until a minute ago.
 
“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not planning to do that any time soon,” she snarled back, arms crossing. “Have a nice unlife, Spike.” Spinning around, she headed for the entrance to the cemetery, knowing that their argument had probably chased away any vamps lurking around. Which pissed her off, because now, she really wanted to hit something.
 
She’d made it maybe ten steps before his voice bit her heels. “Buffy, wait.”
 
“No,” she barked, not bothering to look back at him. “Do not follow me. Unless you want to be victim number three for the night.”

  

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“Buffy…”
 
Crap. This whole getting-past-him thing wasn’t made any easier by the fact that her brain continued manufacturing dreams about Spike.
 
Buffy.”
 
Wait. She wasn’t asleep anymore. Hence the alarm clock staring her in the face- 3:08 a.m..
 
So, what…?
 
Rolling over, she couldn’t stop the surprised squeak from popping out of her. Spike was standing just inside her window, the blinds behind him swaying in the breeze.
 
Spike?! What the hell are you doing here?” she whisper-yelled, sitting up and bringing the covers with her to bunch them around her upper body. Her flannel pyjamas weren’t exactly revealing, but she felt the need to have as many layers of fabric between them as possible.
 
“Came to talk.”
 
At that, the previous portion of the evening came rushing back at her through her fog of sleepiness. “Seems to me we already did enough of that tonight.”
 
“I know. But I wanted to explain why I said what I did. Set things right.”
 
“Well, then you might want to start by not sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night. Do you realize how creepy that is?”
 
“You’re the one left your window unlocked.”
 
“That doesn’t mean it’s an invitation for you to just climb in whenever you want to, you big dope! If you want to set things right, maybe try the front door?”
 
“Oh.” Though she couldn’t see his face, the brief pause seemed to suggest he was considering her advice. “Right.”
 
Buffy couldn’t help the quiet laugh that came out of her. He really had no idea that appearing in her bedroom at this time was in any way abnormal. Poor socially inept vampire.
 
Except… except not. Annoyed with herself for slipping so easily, she dispatched some troops to repair the small hole his blunder had poked in her defensive walls.
 
“So what is it you wanna say?” Hey. She probably wouldn’t get back to sleep for a while now anyway. Might as well make the insomnia worthwhile. Leaning over, she turned on the lamp at her bedside. Spike winced a bit at the light, a hand going up to shield his eyes. “Is this the part where you apologize for everything and tell me you didn’t really mean it?”
 
He scoffed. “Hardly. Meant every word of it.”
 
Oh. Well, that she hadn’t been expecting. Hadn’t he come here to make things better?
 
“Because the fact of the matter is, pet… I’m a vampire. Can hide it of course, but can’t make it go away.” He took a brave step toward her, although it was obvious he didn’t intend to impinge upon her territory beyond what she was comfortable with. “Means I see things a little differently than the average bloke. Means I think you’d look bloody ravishing if you came over all bumpy in the night.”
 
Buffy was dumbstruck. What part of her running away from him the first time he’d said this had he not understood? Now he was in her bedroom, repeating everything, with no sign of remorse or regret for holding such an opinion.
 
…She was gonna have to throw him out her window, wasn’t she?
 
“But,” he snapped the word out, voice clenching its fingers around every ounce of her attention. “What you’ve gotta understand, love, is that there’s a big difference between being able to appreciate something, and actually wanting it to happen. I don’t sit around fantasizing about the day you’re turned, Slayer.” He shook his head, and pointed a finger in her direction. “That ever happens, I’ll stake you myself. That’s a promise.”
 
Okay, that was a bit unexpected. “Y-you would?”
 
“Bloody right! Got no interest in you if you’re not you, Summers.”
 
Buffy didn’t know what surprised her more. His insistence that he would want nothing to do with a vampire version of herself, or the fact that he’d basically just said that he still had feelings for her. She hated the way her heart was swelling at those words, expanding in her chest like a hot air balloon with nowhere to go. “So… you… right now, you have interest in me?”
 
Spike opened his mouth to respond, then clapped it shut, as though he’d just realized the implication of his statement. His eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was arguing with himself over whether to answer. Like a bear about to place his foot in the trap, simply out of sheer curiosity as to whether or not it would snap shut on him. “Of course I do,” he finally said in a voice that was small but confident.
 
A flame burst beneath the mouth of that hot air balloon, and suddenly she was finding it difficult to breathe. God, this was all… it was so stupidly complicated. Spike had feelings for her, and yeah, she had feelings for him. Still. Despite the things he’d said and done to her, despite what he was… she’d been trying for weeks now and she just couldn’t turn them off. She’d closed the tap on the faucet but there was still a little dribble of fluid that made it through.
 
Part of her wanted to leap out of bed and crush herself against him, while the other part wanted to yell at him to just stay away from her. To stop making this whole getting-over-him thing so hard by never actually leaving. Because they couldn’t be together. They just couldn’t. It was wrong and bad and not of the good. Spike was a vampire. A killer. Even after having his soul restored, she knew he’d taken the life of at least one person.
 
One Slayer.
 
“Spike,” she said as he’d been turning to leave. He had mumbled something to her after the silence had stretched for a few long moments, then backed up toward her window. He stopped now though, regarding her with curiosity. “Tell me about her. The New York Slayer.” Every muscle in his body tensed at that, even those in his jaw and forehead scrunching up. “Please. I… I want to understand. I need to understand. Is… is she the only person you’ve killed since-”
 
“Told you to leave it alone, didn’t I?”
 
“But why?” she asked, feeling her own face scrunching up in confusion. “You said it wasn’t how the books say it was. So tell me how it was.”
 
Spike dropped his head with a slow shake. A cool stream of air escaped from between his lips, and he looked up at her again. “Sleep tight, Summers.”
 
“Spike!” she called as he leapt through her window. She would’ve chased after him, but she knew that by the time she untangled herself from her sheets, he’d be halfway down the street. Instead she fell back against her mattress, burying her head into her pillow. Feeling frustrated and confused, but helpless to do anything about it. Like she was stuck in zero gravity, trying to reach an escape hatch six inches away, but unable to close the distance no matter how much she kicked and pushed. No way to go forward, no way to go back. Just… stuck.
 
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