Sleeptalking by NautiBitz
Summary: Pre-'Hush', Spike learns that Buffy talks in her sleep. He may have a chip in his head, but he's still very, very bad...
Timeline: Season 4, after 'Something Blue', a few nights before 'Hush'.
Stats: 2,730 words | Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Spike/Buffy | NC-17/M (not for kids)
Originally Published: July 2001
Awards Won: "Best PWP" from the LLGAs, and more.
Author's Note: This story features a quick cameo from someone in the Gaimanverse.
Distribution: Links only, please. Do not reprint. Please do not post translations. Thank you!
Rights: I do not own these characters or the worlds they inhabit. However, the text I have written is not YOURS to paste into your own fic in any way, shape or form. That is called plagiarism, and it is not cool. Not that YOU would ever do that, because YOU are awesome. Obviously. :)
"Oi! I was reading that!"
"Oh, how very awful I feel," Giles said, "wresting Darkest Magicks away from the evil vampire."
"Oh, come on," Spike said. "I'm not gonna do anything with it! S'like entertainment value!"
"You're not to touch my books, especially those pertaining to magick. Understand?"
"You might want to hide 'em someplace stealthier than the top shelf, then."
Giles turned his eyes to the ceiling. "God help me."
Suddenly, the door popped open and Willow breezed in, Buffy not far behind.
"Giles," the redhead announced, out of breath. "Encounter of the otherworldly kind."
"What is it?" He hurried over and took the black amulet she held in her hand.
"Skinny shiny guy in a black robe," Buffy informed him. "Left that in the center of the quad."
"Except that I couldn't see him," Willow said. "Only Buffy could."
"Maybe." Buffy pointed at the amulet. "But that's no ghost."
"I should say not." He removed his glasses and squinted at it.
"Have you ever seen anything like that before?" Willow asked.
"No, never." Giles held it under the light at his desk.
"Sparkly," Buffy commented.
"It looks like it's made of some sort of... sand."
Willow couldn't contain her excitement. "Guess it's time to hit the books!"
"Yes," Giles said, preoccupied with the charm. "Willow, ring Xander, see if he's free. I think we'll need all the help we can get."
"Joy," Buffy said in resignation, spotting a certain blond head resting on the couch. "Research party."
"Scooby Snacks for one and all," Xander announced from behind two pizza boxes. Anya followed him through the door.
"Oh, good, I'm glad you're here." Giles took the boxes away and handed them each a book. "We're looking for a—"
"I'm just here for the pizza," Anya clarified. "And the Xander."
"Right then." Giles took the book from Anya, then handed the charm to Xander. "We're looking for this in particular. An amulet made of crystallized sand."
"Spooky," Xander said, running his thumb over the coarse grains.
"Yes, well, let's get to it, shall we?" Giles yawned.
Willow yawned too. "Don't yawn, it's contagious."
Buffy yawned. "Stop!"
Spike opened the pizza box. "Any garlic on this?"
"Who said you could have any?" Xander snapped.
"If I'm gonna have to listen to you sprogs yap for the rest of the night, I think I deserve a little treat, alright?" Spike grabbed a slice and sniffed it. "No garlic. Thanks for thinkin' of me." He took a bite.
"Aren't vampires supposed to eat blood?" Xander asked the room.
"Why?" Spike leered at him. "You volunteering?"
"No!" Xander hopped backwards. "And don't leer at me like that."
"Spike doesn't eat just blood. Spike is special," Buffy said patronizingly as she pushed past him to pick up a slice.
"Think so, love? Not a week ago you were in my lap, tellin' me how very 'special' I was."
Buffy cringed and said, "Luckily, I have no recollection of that."
"Is that so?"
"It is. Willow did a forgetting spell for me. Right, Will?"
"Oh, uh... r-right," she confirmed off of Buffy's pleading look.
"Hey!" Spike complained. "When do I get one?"
Willow looked from one to the other. "Maybe... tomorrow?"
"The sooner the better. No fair that she gets to forget." He looked Buffy in the eye.
"No one said unlife was fair, Spike." Buffy put her pizza on a plate and sashayed to the couch.
"Bint," Spike said under his breath.
"Shut your mouth," Giles said.
Spike wiggled his fingers. "Ooh, sorry, Dad."
"Please never call me that again."
"Looking up sand amulets and nothing so far," Willow reported, typing at her computer. "You'd be amazed at how many Belinda Carlisle sites there are, though..."
"Ooh, that song always creeped me out." Buffy concluded, "I think Belinda Carlisle may be a demon."
"There was a demon attached to this thing?" Xander asked between munches, opening his book.
"Do try not to get grease on that book," Giles said, stifling another yawn. "It's priceless, you know."
"Book, many thousands of dollars. Giles falling asleep on the job — now that's priceless."
"I'm pretty beat too," Buffy said, stretching. "But the demon — tall, skinny, glowy guy. Left the thing behind."
"Glowy?" Xander asked.
"Like a glo-worm." Buffy looked down at the charm in her hand. A grain fell to the ground.
"That's new." Xander yawned and added, "Looks like I'm not far behind you two. What time is it, anyway?"
"Was it an Arachna demon?" Anya suggested, ignoring Xander's question.
"No, I don't think so," Giles said. "It was apparitionary. Only Buffy could see it."
Anya wrinkled her brow. "Interesting."
"Yeah, fascinating," Spike said indifferently, flinging his crust on the pizza box. "I'm takin' a shower. Gotta wash off all the goody-good vibes you people are oozing."
"Hey, Spike showers. Who knew?" Xander said.
"I just got the grossest picture in my head," Buffy said, shuddering. "Thanks alot Xander."
"May as well join me, pet," Spike said. "You've always got that handy forgetting spell in the morning."
"Seeing you naked? I don't think a forgetting spell would even begin to cover that."
"Have it your way. Don't say I didn't offer."
"Don't get water all over the floor," Giles called. "And don't use up all my Brill Cream this time!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Pops."
Spike closed the bathroom door behind him, t-shirt and comb in hand.
As he strutted down the hallway, slicking back his hair, he was struck by the total lack of Scooby chattering.
When he reached the living room, he gasped at the sight before him.
The Scoobies were sound asleep.
"Bloody lightweights," he grumbled, glancing at the clock. "Can't stay up past midnight."
Seeing everyone in repose, hearing their heartbeats echoing through his skull, Spike pondered the possibilities of what he could do to them — if he only had the power.
Start with the Watcher. Then do the witch, the sprog and his sprightly ex-demon, and arrange them all in a grotesque little pile. Then, wake the Slayer and let her see it, right before he tears her throat out with his razor-sharp teeth.
Spike smiled at the comforting thought, then returned to reality.
"Bleedin' shame," he said out loud.
He shrugged, and sauntered to the kitchen to grab a box of Wheetabix and a package of blood.
On his way back, he spotted the title of a book beside Willow: Demon Behaviour and Dark Practices.
"Hm." He picked it up, and walked toward the couch.
The Slayer's bare legs were stretched across it. Tan and shiny.
Well, he wanted his spot back. No harm in moving her a little.
He scooched her, then took a seat at the far end of the couch.
"Unh." She stretched, and her feet landed in his lap.
Spike sighed, and looked down at her pink-polished toenails. Slayer toes. Looked so delicate, so tiny, but those little feet packed a wallop he'd prefer never to feel again. He opted not to disturb her.
Sipping idly from his mug, he opened the book to the last chapter.
Modification and Transcendence of Demon Traits
"What about the other way 'round?" Spike wondered, scanning the page.
"Uh-huh," Buffy giggled.
Startled, Spike looked up and ventured a quiet, "Buffy?"
"No way," she said. Eyes shut, smile on.
She shifted and her feet moved, her toes kneading his lap.
"Slayer talks in her sleep," Spike surmised and added sarcastically, "Isn't that just adorable."
"You're such a pig."
He muffled a laugh. No guesswork in who she was dreaming about.
She giggled again. "Spike. Stop."
His eyebrow shot up. That wasn't the way she normally spoke to him.
"Spi..." This time it was an unmistakable urgent whisper. "Mm..."
The Slayer was dreaming about him. Like... that.
She rubbed her legs together and breathed, "Please..."
Spike became instantly aroused, his erection threatening to pop out of his jeans.
He put his book down, and tried to figure out what to do.
Her watcher was in the recliner, head tilted back, mouth open, snoring — but facing them nonetheless. He wondered if Rupert was a light sleeper.
"Please," she whimpered.
"Please what?" he whispered.
"Keep touching me," she answered.
Spike let this sink in for a moment. Then he looked around the room.
Dead to the world, all.
He reached over and turned off the light beside him, just in case. A bit of darkness could buy him a little extra time.
Tentatively, he touched her foot.
"Mmmn..." Her feet pushed into him, encouraging.
He ran his fingers softly up her calf, over her knees, to the hem of her skirt. To get any closer he'd have to bend over.
"Yes," she said.
Well, that did it. He hazarded a glance at Giles and bent towards her, pushing under her skirt, between her—
She clamped her thighs shut around his arm. He tried to pull away, but she was too strong. Good show, Spike. What the hell would he say if she woke up right now? How many seconds 'til the stake appeared and he was dust?
Well. Might as well make the most of it.
Between her legs, he explored, seeking her heat. When he moved her panties aside, he found a nice surprise.
Wet, wet, Slayer. Bad girl.
He slowly slid one finger in.
Was it her slayer strength or her inexperience that made her so damn tight?
Either way, there was nothing more he wanted at that moment than to bury himself inside of her.
"Ohhhh," she moaned throatily.
Spike closed his eyes. Keep that up and you'll get more than you bargained for, Slayer.
"Don't stop," she urged.
Don't worry, he almost said aloud. I won't.
He pulsed his finger in and out of her, then found her engorged clit and rubbed it softly with his thumb. She got even wetter.
"Oh god," she breathed.
"That's right," he said gruffly, getting a little carried away.
His hard-on was raging. Something had to be done about that.
With his free hand, he grabbed his black t-shirt and draped it in front of him while he unbuttoned his jeans.
Thick cock in hand, he started to stroke.
Buffy was squirming on the couch, arching her back and pumping her pelvis up to meet each thrust of his fingers.
Always knew you'd be a demon in the sack...
He contemplated taking her upstairs and making her dream come true, but it was unlikely she'd let him anywhere near her when she was conscious.
He bent down to her ear, his two hands working them both. "Slayer," he muttered.
"So bloody hot."
"More," she said.
Oh, if only, Slayer. If only.
At that thought, he came in quiet bursts, and used his shirt to absorb the ejaculate.
Seconds later, she shuddered and spasmed into his hand with a very loud, "Unnnhhh!"
Spike shot up, certain that everyone in the room, including the Slayer, would wake up to that noise.
Not a stir.
He frowned. Are these people drugged?
Carefully, Spike extracted his hand from between the Slayer's soft thighs. She smiled and sighed, drifting into a deeper sleep.
Captivated by the sheen on his middle finger, he brought it to his mouth.
"Mmm," he moaned, sucking in her heady flavor. "Magically delicious."
She hummed in agreement and turned onto her stomach, her ass in full view.
"Don't tempt me, sweet," he said.
He tucked himself away and fastened his pants, then balled up his shirt and flung it backwards into the kitchen sink. He'd deal with it later.
Giles snorted in his sleep.
"Now don't you start. I'm only tending to the lady here," Spike said, amusing himself.
He spotted something black and glittery on the coffee table and reached over to pick it up.
"Huh," he said, recognizing it immediately. "What's this doin' here?"
Realization dawned as he looked around at the snoozing lot. "Idiots."
Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw a flash in the window.
He moved closer and peered out.
Suddenly, a tall, very pale figure in a black robe appeared.
Spike opened the window and held up the amulet.
"Lookin' for this, mate?"
"Yes," the figure said in a gossamer voice and reclaimed the item with long white fingers. "You will be rewarded."
Spike wasn't impressed. "Yeah, but uh, one thing. I'm a vampire. I don't dream."
The figure's opalescent black eyes caught the light. "You will."
With that, he disappeared.
"Okay then." Spike raised his brows in appraisal. "Not a bad bloke."
When he turned back, everyone was rousing.
The vampire shook his head. Dim-witted humans...
Giles spoke first. "Good heavens, I must have dozed off."
Computer keys imprinted on her face, Willow croaked, "Me too."
"Me three," Xander said, blinking.
They looked at one another in confusion.
Buffy, on the other hand, was stretching with a big, content smile on her face.
"Pleasant dreams, Slayer?"
Buffy turned to scowl at him, but was momentarily sidetracked by the site of his exposed chest. "What are you smiling at?"
"You never told me you were a sleeptalker."
Buffy's eyes widened. Looking absolutely mortified, she scrambled to the bathroom.
Spike laughed. "Anyway," he addressed the room. "We had a visitor just now. Can't see how you could've missed 'im. Oh that's right — you were all sleeping."
"A visitor? Who?" Giles asked, rubbing his neck.
"The Sandman, you pillocks. Wanted his bleedin' amulet back."
"Oh God! The Sandman!" Giles exclaimed, sputtering. "Of course! How could I be so stupid?"
"Wonderin' that myself," Spike said.
"The Sandman?" Willow asked. "But I thought he was a myth, like the tooth fairy."
"Tooth fairy's no myth," Spike attested. "Just not the little flitting tinkerbell you think. More like a hideous winged demon who feeds on children's extra parts."
"It's true," Anya affirmed.
"You know," Xander said, shaking a finger, "I never did get my shiny nickel."
Giles chastised himself, "I can't believe I didn't realize it was the bloody Sandman. Not a demon at all."
"Losin' your touch, Rupert?"
Giles glared at Spike, then informed the gang, "The Dream King presides over another realm of existence. I never knew he actually walked through this plane."
"So," Willow said. "You mean he was just... doing his job?"
"Oopsie?" she squeaked.
"Yes, oopsie," Spike said. "You'd do well to check these things out before you bring 'em in here. Could be bloody dangerous." He turned on the light by the couch.
"AAAH!" Xander covered his eyes. "I'm being blinded by Spike's whiteness!"
Spike explained coolly, "Shirt got dirty."
"Well, cover yourself up," Xander said. "It's scary."
Anya said with a shrug, "I think he has a nice body."
Spike grinned, but was distracted by the Slayer emerging from the bathroom.
Buffy immediately gathered her stuff. "We're going now Will."
"But — you haven't heard about the amulet! Can you believe—"
"You can tell me on the way." Buffy headed for the door. "Bye guys, bye Giles."
"See ya Buff," Xander said, slightly bewildered by her quick exit.
Spike strolled after her. "Don't I get a goodbye, pet?"
"No," she snapped. Concentrating on avoiding his eyes, she somehow let her gaze stop at his rippling chest muscles again. "God, will you put a shirt on?"
"Thank you!" Xander chimed in agreement.
Spike shot an arm out, cutting Willow off at the threshold. "Tell me one thing before you go, Red."
"Uh... okay." Willow shifted uncomfortably.
"There is no forgetting spell, is there?"
"Well—" She looked helplessly at Buffy, whose eyes were fixed on a spot on the floor. "No, n-not exactly..." Buffy whipped her head up.
Spike smirked proudly at Buffy, who was now shooting eye-daggers at Willow. "All I wanted to know."
"W—" Willow blustered at Buffy. "I don't lie well!"
With a frustrated whimper, Buffy marched outside.
Willow threw Spike a glare before following her friend.
Spike smiled, and stuck his head out the door. "Oh, Slayer?"
Buffy cocked her head slightly, but didn't stop her stride.
"You owe me a shirt."
Her fists opening and closing, Buffy absorbed the information. "Oh... god!" she sputtered in revulsion, and sped up.
A confused Willow hurried behind. "Buffy?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Buffy chirped.
Spike chuckled his way back inside.
In the kitchen, Giles was holding a wet, black t-shirt by one tiny corner, as if it had a disease.
"Exactly what sort of dirt is this?"
Characters and settings property of respective creators.
Story, dialog and prose property of NautiBitz.
All rights reserved. (IE, it is not okay to borrow it for your fic.)