Chapter 1: To Sleep: Perchance to Dream
Buffy lay awake in her bed, concentrating on her breathing, hoping that some of her meditation techniques would put her to sleep. It seemed to become harder and harder to sleep every night.
There was the fact that her friends had resurrected her, and ripped her out of heaven without so much as bothering to dig up her body, which left her with the irrational fear that she would wake up in a coffin.
There were also all of the bills she had somehow gathered while she was dead. Money was becoming more and more a problem, and the fact that her house seemed to be falling apart on her wasn’t helping.
A new mystery had presented itself today as well. Just before she had died, her father had stopped sending child support. She’d been too busy worrying about keeping her sister alive and away from Glory to bother about it.
But today in the mail a check had come for the entire amount he owed. Buffy had eagerly opened the letter with her fathers name and address on it. She hadn’t thought about the fact that the handwriting wasn’t his. She had assumed it meant a secretary had mailed it. As soon as she looked at the check, she knew it wasn’t from her father. It was signed Hank Summers, but it wasn’t his signature. She’d forged it enough times on absentee slips when she still lived in L.A. to know.
Also, even though the address on the envelope was his address in L.A, the address on the check was a P.O. Box in Sunnydale. She had meant to ask Willow to see if she could find out anything about the P.O. Box, but she hadn’t had the chance yet.
But the main thoughts that kept her up tonight, were darker thoughts. Fantasies that haunted her and wouldn’t let go.
In some sense she’d had these fantasies since she was sixteen. Since a sexy vampire, who didn’t run around in his game face all the time, had stepped out of the shadows of the alley behind the Bronze and told her with absolute confidence that he was going to kill her on Saturday night.
She’d always been attracted to Spike, and always been disgusted by her attraction. But it was that very first time she saw him that the fantasies started.
He throws her against a wall and his fist crashes into her face. She tries to swing at him, but he catches her fist and pins her against the wall with his body. That’s when she feels it, hard between her legs.
She struggles against him and he laughs at her.
“That’s right, baby. Fight me. God I love it when they fight.”
One hand holds both of hers above her head, and the other slips up underneath the hem of her skirt. He rips off her panties, and thrusts two cool fingers inside of her.
“No, please. Just kill me. I’m still. . .” she begs with him. He can’t do this to her, she’s still a virgin. She’s saving herself for Angel.
“Don’t tell me your still a virgin? What Angel cant’ get it up to stick it in you?” He smiles his most wicked smile and licks his lips. “I’m going to enjoy this. You’re prettier than the other Slayer’s I killed. So sexy.”
Then he pulls his fingers out of her, and she can hear his zipper. He’s inside her, fucking her hard against the wall. She screams and pleads with him even as her legs come up around his waist.
“So good,” he moans in her ear. “You feel so good. Fucking Slayer. Love it when you fight me, baby. So good. So fucking good.”
When he’s done using her for his pleasure, he lets go of her and watches as she falls helplessly to the ground.
“Not going to kill you, Slayer. You’re too good a fuck. But I’ll be back for you. That’s a promise.”
And he leaves her bleeding in the alley, feeling broken and ashamed for enjoying it so much, and hoping he comes back soon.
She’d read somewhere, either one of her textbooks from Dr. Walsh’s class, or maybe it was an issue of Cosmo, that rape fantasies were common among women. They were a way for a woman to fantasize about sexual acts they felt were forbidden. Buffy supposed it made sense, nothing in her life was more forbidden than sex with Spike. But it bothered her, made her feel ashamed, and foolish for how much she enjoyed being fucked by him in her mind.
The fantasies had changed a little over the years. They’d been fed by her own experience after she lost her virginity and also the experiences of Willow’s ‘will be done’ spell.
That had disturbed Buffy so deeply because as much as she wanted to pretend that she had only wanted Spike because of a spell, the fact was she had wanted him long before. Okay, so she never would have considered marrying him, but she could still remember the feel of his cool hands under her shirt and over her bra.
And his kisses. Wow, was Spike a good kisser. Kissing had become part of her fantasies from that point.
Then there was a second night in the alley behind the Bronze. The night when she had asked him to tell her about the other Slayers he had killed. There had been a moment when she thought he was going to kiss her. She’d pulled away, and been really mean to him, but mostly because she’d wished she’d stayed still and let him kiss her.
At the time she’d thought it was a crazy idea. Why would Spike kiss her? Spike hated her. Then she’d learned about his obsession and realized that he really was going to kiss her that night.
She never believed he loved her then, but the knowledge of his obsession fed her fantasies.
She wakes in the middle of the night to find Spike tying her wrists to the top of her bed with silken scarves. She starts to speak, to tell him to get lost, but he puts a finger to her lips and shushed her.
“Quiet now, pet. Don’t want to wake your mom or the bit,” he says as he ties the last knot.
That’s when she realizes that he’s naked. His clothes are folded neatly on the chair by her desk. He’s been there for a while. Watching her sleep.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered. “You can’t be here.”
“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? Maybe I should gag you?”
He kisses her, sending shivers down her body. She tests her bonds, but finds that although she could break them, she can’t do it without making a lot of noise. She’d be sure to wake up her mom or Dawn, and how could she possibly explain why a naked Spike had tied her to her bed?
“This is how it’s going to work, Slayer,” he whispers in her ear. “You be quiet, I have my fun, and no one ever has to know. But if you make a fuss. . .” he shrugs as if anything that happens after that point wouldn’t be his fault but hers.
Then he starts to undress her. Undoing the buttons on her pajamas one by one. Kissing each bit of skin as it’s exposed.
Finally he parts the top exposing her breasts to the cool night air. He looks at them with hungry eyes, before he takes one in each hand and begins to fondle them. Then he bends down and begins to suck on her nipple.
She has to bite her lip to keep from crying out as he gently bites her nipple with his human teeth. Seeing her distress, he strokes her face, kisses her again, and gags her. Then he returns to her breasts. He buries his face between them, and lavishes each one in turn with the attentions of his tongue and teeth.
His hands remain to fondle her breasts as his head begins to move lower. Trailing fiery kisses down her stomach till he comes to the elastic of her pajama bottoms.
“I bet you have the prettiest pussy,” he says softly. “Let’s find out shall we?”
She begins to struggle again, she can’t allow Spike to do this to her, but the only way to stop him would be to kick him off the bed. Then he’d crash into her closet and wake everyone up.
Cool fingers slide down her legs, as he removes her pants. Then strong hands force her legs apart until she lays there open to his probing eyes.
“Oh, Buffy,” he says with quiet awe. “So beautiful.”
Then he leans down once more and his head is between her legs as he begins to kiss her most intimate areas. His tongue tastes her in ways no one ever has before, as his fingers pump in and out of her.
She fights him, tries to find a way to get free, because she can’t let him do this to her. Can’t let her mortal enemy make her feel this good. She refuses to enjoy it, but she does all the same.
But he doesn’t let her come. After all he is evil. Instead, just as she feels the orgasm building in her womb he stops, and pulls himself up so he is lying on top of her, and the faces are even.
“Do you like that? Does the big bad make you hot? Poor little Slayer needs a vampire to get her off? But I’m not here for you, luv. I’m here for me.”
Then he’s inside her. He grabs her hips and slams into her over and over. He’s brutal with her, using his full vampire strength to create as much friction as possible. But every time he slams into her he bumps her clit and only the gag keeps her from screaming his name.
He says things to her. Horrible things. Dirty things. He uses words that she should hit him for saying in front of her, and are worse because he says them about her. He tells her how tight she is, and how she has the best ‘see you next tuesday’ (Buffy refuses to even think the word) he’s ever felt.
And when he’s done, when he’s filled her with his cold dead seed, he tells her that she’s the best little fuck he’s ever had. He gets dressed while she’s still tied to the bed. He doesn’t even cover her up, just leers at her half naked form sweaty and sprawled on the bed while he buckles his jeans. All the time whispering about how good she felt and how he’s going to come back every night and fuck her over and over and over again.
Finally, once he’s put his duster back on, he releases one of her hands, leaving her to finish untying herself.
Then the real Spike had to go and screw up her fantasies, by proving he really did love her when he didn’t reveal that Dawn was the Key when Glory tortured him.
That had killed all her fantasies. And the look in his eyes when she’d kissed his cheek, when he realized it was her and not the ‘bot proved his love all over again. You couldn’t be raped by a guy who loves you, and Buffy refused to think about sex with a Spike who loved her. That was too creepy.
But things had changed yet again when her friends brought her back. Spike had become her confidant. The only person she could trust and talk to. He hadn’t been part of the scheme to bring her back from the dead, and because she owed him nothing, because he wasn’t her friend she could burden him with the things she would never tell her friends.
Ironically that had made Spike her best friend and he was rapidly becoming more a part of her life than she was quite comfortable with.
Now her fantasies about Spike were back. Only they had changed, become darker.
It’s been a rough day, and Buffy finds comfort in the only place left to her. Spike’s crypt. He’s waiting for her. He’s always waiting for her, and she cries on his shoulder. She tells him how horrible it is. How she can’t stand the world ever since she was brought back.
He wraps his strong arms around her and tells her it’s going to be okay. He’ll take care of it all.
“You can’t,” she tells him. “Nothing can make it better.”
“I can,” he assures her.
Then he lifts her up into his arms and carries her down into the lower level of his crypt. He lays her down on his bed and kneels over her.
“Spike, I can’t. . .”
He smiles sadly at her, “I know, it’s not that.”
But even so he lies down on top of her, and he kisses her. She becomes lost in his kiss. The gentleness of his lips. His strong violent hands moving tenderly over her skin.
Finally he lets her breath again, though she almost wishes he wouldn’t. It would be so nice to be strangled by his kisses. Those expressive blue eyes of his look sadly at her, and she can see the tears forming.
“Love you so much,” he tells her.
She wishes he wouldn’t. She hates this. Hates the way he feels, hates how it complicates what should be simple.
“So I’m going to take all your pain away,” he promises.
She nearly laughs at him. There’s just too much. No one can take it all away. It will never go away. Pain is all she is now. Pain is all she breathes.
He tilts her head to one side, and suddenly she realizes that he is right. He can make it all go away.
“Promise me,” she stops him. He looks at her questioningly. “You won’t let them bury me.”
“I promise,” he says softly and sadly. “I’m going to miss you Summers.”
And then sad blue eyes become angry and gold.
She cries out as his fangs rip into her throat. But it only hurts for a moment. She remembers that. And then a spark goes from her neck to her womb. Like one of the fuses they have in cartoons.
She wraps her legs around him, and he’s rubbing his erection against her, practically fucking her, and they both need it. They’re both desperate for more friction as they share the pleasure of her death.
He pulls her blood from her veins causing her to writhe beneath him. Every instinct tells her to fight him, but she can’t. She doesn’t have the will, not when this feels better, more right than anything has felt in so long.
His fingers reach down and he thrusts his fingers inside her and begins to fuck her with his hand. His thumb runs over her clit and she screams and bucks against him. Nothing ever felt this good. Even when Angel bit her it wasn’t this good, this pure.
Spike’s fingers, still probing her are the last thing she feels as the peace and sleepiness overwhelms her.
She hates them. Wishes they would go away. Is that what she really wants? To die? She spent so long fighting against her short life span that she can’t imagine just giving in like that. Except that she does imagine it, night after night dreams of death keep her awake.
And that’s when she notices that she’s not alone. Her eyes are closed, and she’s trying to breathe evenly to help her fall asleep, but there’s that tingle that tells her that a vampire is near. And not just any vampire, Spike.
Buffy can’t help but wonder if her dreams are about to come true.