Chapter Eight

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She lurched into consciousness and was instantly aware of the pounding in her head and the horrible taste in her mouth. She moaned and shifted slightly, wanting to bury herself in her pillows. She stretched slightly, and froze as her hand brushed against something. She moved her fingers over the smooth fabric, feeling the hardness underneath. Her hand moved slowly down and collided with what could be nothing but a waistband and belt.

Her eyes flew open and she started at the sight of the black-clad figure next to her. Eyes going wide, she sat up and took in her surroundings. Oh God, she realised with a groan, she was in Spike’s crypt. In his bed. With him. She seemed to be under the sheets while he lay on top of them and she pulled them around her as she scooted away from him. Her movement must have woken him though and his eyes flew open, sleepy and confused for a second, before they finally cleared and he smiled softly.

“Slayer.”

This had to be another one of those dreams. Not that any of her dreams had ever been this chaste, she reminded herself with an internal groan. No way was she actually in Spike’s bed though. How had she got here anyway? She frowned and looked round once more.

“What happened?” she asked, slightly scared by the fact that she couldn’t remember much past coming to Spike’s crypt yesterday after her drunken encounter with the demon.

“Can’t remember?” he asked with a laugh, pushing himself up on his elbows.

And God, this felt way too much like a morning-after conversation and that spurred her out of the bed, even if her head protested at the sudden movement.


“I remember...being sick,” she murmured cautiously.

“Yeah, all over my floor.”

“Oh. Sorry,” she mumbled with a grimace, fiddling awkwardly with the hem of her top so she would not have to meet his eyes.

“S’fine,” he answered with a laugh, sitting up and looking at her.

“Then what happened?” she asked hesitantly, “Afterwards?”

He paused for a moment and then answered her, his voice coloured with hurt.

“Best night of your life and you don’t remember?”

Her eyes flew to his and her mouth dropped open in horror.

“Oh God,” she got out, covering her mouth as she turned away from him. She was never drinking. Never ever again. “Oh God.”

What had she done? Oh God, this was bad. So very, very bad. She didn’t know who to blame more: herself or the vampire. How dare he take advantage though? Vampire, her mind reminded her.


Caught up in her torment, she had not noticed that Spike had moved until she felt his hands on her shoulders and she jumped, whirling round to face him with wide eyes. She had to fix this, explain that she had been drunk and- She stopped in her tracks as she noticed the wide smile on his face and she closed her eyes helplessly, groaning.

“Buffy, love, I’m joking,” he laughed.

"What?!"

Her eyes snapped open again and narrowed on the highly-amused vampire. She shoved him away and sighed loudly.

“I hate you.”

He just laughed and moved back to sit on the edge of the bed, taking out a cigarette and lighting up.

“Nothing happened. Cleaned you up and got you to bed.”

“How do I know you didn’t take advantage?” she got out, half-angrily, half-scaredly.

He raised an eyebrow and removed the cigarette from his lips.

“You really think that bad of me, Slayer?” he asked, growing serious.


She shrugged uncomfortably and turned her head to avoid his piercing gaze.

“Not that I think you would have minded, way you were last night.”

“Excuse me?!” she got out, turning back to him with wide eyes.

“Do tell about these dreams you have about me. I’m real interested to hear.”

She grimaced and closed her eyes as she took a deep breath.

“I was drunk. I was talking stupid.”

“That so?” he asked, watching her intently, “So you haven’t been dreamin’ ‘bout me?”

Somehow, trapped in his bright gaze, the denial got stuck in her throat and she stumbled uncertainly backwards, needing to get away from him. He was up on his feet and in front of her before she could get anywhere though, hands on her arms restraining her.

“Huh, Slayer?” he purred, his eyes blazing as he looked down at her.


She was frozen, trapped in the spell of his eyes – that was obviously why she didn’t pull away immediately when he dipped his head and kissed her softly; why her arms wrapped around him as she pressed herself against him helplessly. It was probably a thrall of some sort. She pushed him away with a gasp and raised her hand to her mouth, covering it in shock.

“No!” was all she could get out.

He tilted his head, eyes still blazing as he watched her with a smile.

“Come, now, Slayer-“

“No,” she repeated, taking a step backwards as he took one forwards, “There will be no - none of that. I’m going...going home.”

She stuttered out the last as he took another step towards her, effectively pinning her to the wall, blue eyes boring into her. Thrall, it had to be thrall, she chanted in her head as he lowered his head and kissed her again. She pushed him away and scuttled out of the circle of his arms, breathing heavily.

“No...Dawn...I have to...”

Without finishing her sentence, she fled from the crypt as fast as if he was chasing her.