Chapter Six


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She woke with a start some mornings later, breathing heavily as reality slowly broke through the cloud of her dream and brought her crashing back into the real world. She clutched the covers to her chest, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm her racing pulse. She closed her eyes for a moment and quickly opened them again as she was hit with images from the dream she had just woken from. She had had dreams like this before...fantasies, really...but never about him. No way was Spike taking up root in her subconscious.


It had just been a silly dream, probably brought on by their encounter in his bedroom just the other day. It didn’t mean anything. Hell, he probably could kiss like that – in fact, she knew he could, thanks to Willow’s thy-will-be-done spell almost two years ago. And she was pretty sure he could do the other things she had dreamt about...

She shook her head and sat up abruptly, throwing herself out of bed. She had a job to go to – she really didn’t have time to lie around analysing a stupid dream that meant nothing. She began to move around her room, getting herself ready for her first day at work. She sat down at her dresser as she did her make-up and froze for a moment, studying herself in the mirror. When had she started looking so old? She frowned and leant a little closer to the mirror, searching her face for signs of age. Shaking her head suddenly with her stupidity, she sat back and finished applying her make-up.


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Her first day at work had flown by in a flurry of new names and information and she was glad that evening to get back to the job she had perfected at the tender age of fifteen. Slaying always helped her to clear her mind and a small smile graced her lips as she strode through one of Sunnydale’s countless cemeteries, a slight breeze brushing her skin. She spotted trouble up ahead and with a smile, sped up her strides until she reached the vampire and his intended dinner. The girl was shrinking back against a tree, holding out her hands as the vampire approached her slowly.

“Didn’t anyone every teach you not to play with your food?” she quipped, drawing the vampire’s attention to her. He snarled and she looked at him pointedly.

“Slayer,” he growled, turning fully to face her.

“Well, least I don’t have to introduce myself,” she remarked with a shrug, jumping forward and punching the vampire square in the face. He fell to the floor and she turned to the still-trembling girl.

“Go! Run!”

The girl heeded her words and took off at a sprint across the cemetery as the vampire scrambled to his feet.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he bit out.

She just rolled her eyes and blocked the clumsy punch aimed at her. He recovered quickly though and kicked her, spinning her and almost causing her to lose her balance. She quickly regained her balance though and kicked his legs out from underneath him as he came at her. She moved to straddle him but he kicked her away and before she could roll to her feet, he had a knife at her neck, pinning her to the floor.

“Erm, you do realise you’re a vampire, right? You don’t need weapons.”


Lashing out, she managed to grab his arm and moved it away from her, bending it back at an awkward angle until he finally dropped the knife – but not before he had slashed her arm. The scent of her blood seemed to spur on his attack but she quickly got to her feet, spinning into a roundhouse that sent him flying into a nearby crypt. She followed him and launched into a series of punches that disoriented the cornered vampire. Before he had another chance to retaliate, she whipped a stake from her waistband and drove it through the vampire’s chest, turning him into dust.


She replaced the stake and brushed her hands together, turning her attention to the cut on her arm. It was then that she felt eyes on her and she whirled round, tensed for attack – before she spotted the tendrils of cigarette smoke and the glow as the cigarette was thrown to the floor just to her right. Spike stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning even as he smiled in that soft way he seemed to have developed of late.

“You alright?” he asked, moving towards her, his eyes drifting to the cut on her arm.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Didn’t realise you vamps usually carried weapons of the non-fangy kind.”

“Has been known to happen,” he murmured, stopping just in front of her, his eyes still fixed on her cut.

“Err, Spike,” she got out, “Freaking me out a bit.”

He snapped out of it and his eyes darted back to hers.

“Sorry.”

She smiled slightly and he returned with a sheepish smile.

“Want some help cleaning that up?”

“Err, yeah, I guess. Thanks.”


She leant against the sarcophagus as he went about trying to locate the first aid kit, frowning at the blood that was already coming through and staining her top. She held her hand to the cut, hoping to stop it from bleeding even a tiny amount. Spike reappeared from the lower level and moved to her side, placing the kit down on the sarcophagus behind her.

“Think he killed your top,” he commented, guiding her hand away as he gently rolled her sleeve up and examined the cut.

“I know,” she sighed, “I wish they invented demon-proof clothes.”

He laughed and pressed his fingers to the cut. She hissed in pain and he pulled back slightly, smiling reassuringly.

“S’not too deep. Think your top’s the main casualty here.”

She smiled as he leant forward and picked up some cotton wool and disinfectant.

“This is going to sting, isn’t it?” she moaned, eyeing the cotton wool as he doused it in disinfectant.

“Didn’t know you were a big baby, Slayer.”

She glared at him and he smiled, one hand holding her arm still as he leant forward and dabbed the wound.


She couldn’t watch what he was doing so instead she found herself facing forward, eyes on his neck, musing to herself at just how much paler his skin looked contrasted with the black of his T-shirt as she tried not to wince at the disinfectant seeping into her wound.
His closeness suddenly brought scenes from her dream crashing back and she shook her head a tiny bit, trying to drive them away. Spike paused and pulled back ever so slightly, eyes studying her.

“You alright?”

“Fine,” she got out quietly, avoiding his gaze until finally he gave up and went back to cleaning her wound. She let out a shaky breath and shifted away from him as best she could with his hand on her arm holding her still.

“Stop fidgeting,” he murmured, not pausing in his ministrations but tightening his grip on her arm ever so slightly. She was flooded with the image of his hands on her arms, pinning her down as he kissed her hungrily and she let out a little groan, wishing she could get this crazy dream out of her head. Spike pulled back again to look at her and she couldn’t help but shrink away from his piercing gaze.

“Slayer?” he breathed and she raised her head hesitantly, reading the sudden desire in his eyes, mixed with an amusement that expressed itself in the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Is it, err, fixed?” she asked breathlessly, avoiding his gaze once more and looking to her arm.

“Not yet. Got distracted by a delicious smell.”

It took her a moment to figure out what he was talking about and then she reacted instinctively.

“Eww, gross, Spike!” she spat out, shoving him away and moving free from him.


He caught her by her good arm though and drew her to a halt.

“Come on, love, I was only playing,” he soothed, smiling as he moved in front of her, “Let me finish fixing you up.”

“Fine,” she sulked, shaking her arm out of his grip and crossing her arms across her chest. Which turned out to be the wrong thing to do in her low-cut top and she realised it when Spike’s eyes dropped to her chest. Glowering, waiting for him to raise his eyes to hers again, she tapped her foot against the ground.

“Err, excuse me?”

He raised his head with none of the sheepishness he usually displayed and smirked, eyes flirtatiously heavy-lidded.

“What’s wrong, love?”

She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, moving back to the sarcophagus and waiting for him to join her. She heard him chuckle as he moved back in front of her and she narrowed her eyes but didn’t dare to raise her eyes to his.

“Want me to kiss it better, Slayer?” he murmured silkily, his hand returning to her arm.

“Do you ever shut up?” she snapped, her eyes still on her feet.

“Only if I’ve had a good workout,” he practically purred, indicating just what kind of workout he was talking about.


She fell silent and he was silent too, gentle touches cleaning her arm and finally wrapping it in a small bandage.

“You want a spare shirt?” he asked, pulling back, “Could find you something to throw on.”

She looked up at him, noticed that the smirk was gone for now, and with a sigh, nodded.

“Thanks. Think my top’s ruined.”

He moved away into the lower level and reappeared with one of his seemingly endless supply of black T-shirts.

“Thanks,” she muttered, taking the T-shirt from him and looking up at him expectantly, frowning when he made no sign of moving.

“Spike!”

“Right, yeah,” he mumbled, turning his back and moving away from her. She watched him for a few moments, waiting for him to peek, but when it didn’t seem he was going to try, she quickly pulled off her own top and replaced it with his.

“Done,” she called out and he turned back to her, his eyes sweeping over the T-shirt and darkening ever so slightly – a fact she decided to ignore for now.

“Well, thanks. Again. I should get going.”

“You okay?” he asked, taking a step towards her, “You’re all twitchy.”

“I-I’m fine. Just not used to this work thing. I guess.”

“Right.”

There was an awkward pause and she looked up to find him watching her.

“Well, err, night.”

“Night, love,” he murmured, sending a little sliver of desire straight through her that spurred her out of his crypt even faster.