(Part 4)

Spike shot from his sheets. He was slick and sopping with sticky liquid. He groped over his face and neck in the dark, beginning to shake in a panic. Swinging his legs over the mattress he made his way from the bed his right arm flailing connecting with plastic settled on wood. One of tap lights he'd ordered off the TV shopping network lit up. He looked at his hands in earnest registering their clean order. He sighed relieved finding only sweat and no blood coating them.

Behind him he heard sheets rumpling and turned to the noise able to see the entire room now with the cheap plastic all lit up. His eyes must have still in ablaze with panic and if he had any humanity he would have been flushed perhaps. He closed his gaping mouth and stared back watching the sheets wrap around the naked flesh that stood with her back toward him.

"Go back to bed love," he gently suggested staggering toward the mattress leaving the light on.

He was met with a small smile meant to be comforting. He lowered back to sitting on the edge of the bed still noticeably stiff and agitated. Footsteps walked all the way around the bed ending beside him. He didn't turn, but kept staring at the floor straight ahead. Two soothing arms went out, releasing kneading palms on his shoulders moving up and down between his biceps and shoulder blades, steadily relaxing his tenseness.

"Bad dream,"

"You wouldn't believe –" he cut himself short knowing if he did come out with the whole thing she would believe and maybe that would be worse.

"What was it about?"

"I can't remember. I just woke up is all,"

"And turned on a night light," she almost laughed, "I've never seen you bound for a nightlight nor leave it on,"

"I was half asleep, cmon,"

"Spike,"

"It was bloody nothing. I can't remember I told you,"

"Tell me,"

He let out another sigh and turned away from her completely, dropping to the side, his head hitting his pillow. She followed lying behind him, slipping an arm around his waist teasing his hard flat belly with her fingernails.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I'm sorry I pressed,"
            He didn't reply. He kept replaying the entire dream in his head, nervous of the realism. He'd never dreamed this way before.

"You know," he began rolling over to face her, "if you left me I think it would be the end of everything. I'd go simply insane,"

A flattered and understanding smile spread across her lips.

"I'm not going anywhere,"

"Not tonight, but what if you suddenly don't trust me,"

His thoughts were of the dream, the entirety. He shuddered.

"Why wouldn't I trust you? I've trusted you with my entire world, my entire life,"

"I don't know," he shook his head banishing thoughts along with the memory of the dream from his mind, "Forget it. You should sleep,"

            "Are you going to stay awake?"

            "Yeah," his reply was low, a little ashamed but wanting desperately for her not to worry for his head and simply drift off back to sleep.

            "Then why don't I stay up with you and," her words hung as her eyes twinkled mischievously, "we can get you back into the sleeping mood?"

            "Wearing me out," Spike moved closer to her accepting her arm around his waist pressing a hand to his back, pinning his body to hers, "What a great idea. Come up with that one all by yourself,"

            "Mmm hmm," she affirmed closing her lips over his briefly, before looking at him inquisitively at his lack luster lip lock, "I was in the dream wasn't I?"

            "Parts," Spike lied blinking, "good parts,"

            "Oh, now that explains why you were all sweating and riled up,"

            Spike rolled over, pinning her now to the mattress, straddling her staring down hungrily. He licked his lips before lowering onto her body, only kisses touching her neck, a tiny shock pricking the entire volume of his brain before his teeth could begin to bare.

            "Mm, Buffy," Spike moaned the sinking feeling entering his stomach as he remembered the detailed dream of finding and siring a new lover and bringing her to his crypt, the coupling and the dreams and the murdering of the slayer.

            Buffy's bright eyes were barely slits as she tilted her head back her mouth opening wide. Spike covered it with his own lips and forced all the images out of his mind. The sinking feeling dissuaded only a bit, the lustful human pleasures starting to replace the remnant intoxicating feelings of a kill. No matter how well and how much he enjoyed playing the sick game of house with the slayer now something was telling him his destiny wanted something else.

Reaching to the bedside Spike launched a spent bottle of wine at the tap light. The plastic piece clattering to the floor sprung loose a battery bathing the room in darkness. Whether a trick of his mind or a belated noise of the broken bottle and light Spike could hear a breathless female voice clearly tinkling the sacred words that didn't send the chip buzzing him painfully

"Mm, Spike, hurt me,"

The End