Disclaimer: I own nothing of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon & Mutant Enemy Inc. I have only borrowed the characters so I can write my story for entertainment value.

Author’s notes: I always need to thank my friend in New York because she always urges me to write. Also want to thank the creators of such a great show for inspiring me to write. I think the show is wonderful and I will never be as good as Joss Whedon is or make these characters as good as the actors portray them, but I still hope you enjoy my story.

Summary: Buffy’s POV about being with Spike.

Rating: Pg-13 (Adult Sexual content implied)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You belong in the shadows with me.” Spike

Should be Sleeping

I should be sleeping, but he even has me there in my dreams. He's everywhere I need him, and don't want him to be. I beat him, and he still comes to me. He comes to me at night when I am alone, and he even comes to me in the day when I miss him. His scent lingers for hours after he is gone, and I revel in the leather and smoke wanting it to consume me, like he does. He is everything I hate, everything I fight against, and I try so hard to fight against him. He doesn’t even need to touch me anymore and I still give into him. I come to him as much as he comes to me, and that’s why I am standing outside of his door right now. I don’t even want to go in, but I definitely know I do not want to turn around go away either. I know he is on the other side waiting for me to come to him, lie next to him, hold him, and stay like that forever. I don’t have forever though, and he does. The steel of the door is as cold as his touch, and my body yearns for that. The way his hands run down my body so gently. Nobody has ever touched me likes he does. Sometimes it can be so sweet, tender, and loving, and other times its painful, hard, fast. I want all of that. I need all of it. Everything he does his so different, and amazing, and his eyes. Those ocean blues that look thru me, and actually see me more then anybody else ever has. They draw me in hold me when his arms can’t. I love his eyes as much as his touch. They glisten, tinge yellow when he is inside of me and I loose control just thinking I draw his demon to the surface. I know he holds him back for me in that indefinable moment where we send each other over the edge, and each time I hope he won’t hold himself back. I wait for him to let go and really taste me. I have on occasion got a little too crazy and tasted him. Breaking his skin right above his nipple with my blunt, human teeth brought out the slightest taste of crimson to my lips. Stunned at first, but knowing it was from him, his life, thrilled me and I wanted more, only because it was his. He knows everything about me except what I truly taste like, and I know nothing about him except his taste. I mean I know what he tells me, and I know what I have read about Spike the Vampire, but it is the man inside that is amazing. It is the man inside him that draws me to the demon he is. That same man that tastes so sweet, touches me like nobody ever has, and holds me ever so gently is the reason I am standing here pressed against the cold steel in a cemetery at night, when I should be sleeping.

My dreams tend to always be the same. I am sitting at the Bronze waiting for my friends to come, and he shows up. I can feel him the minute he walks thru the door. Nobody else even matters anymore. I wait for him to come to me, leaning back just the slightest in my stool so he can get a full shot of me from across the room. Once I see his eyes, I like my lips, preparing them for him to devour me. He always teases me and makes me wait for him longer each time, always going to the bar and ordering his beer still eyeing me. When he finally gets drink he slowly steps toward me leans down, and his breathless words fall into my ear, telling me to come to him, then he turns and walks away. I follow him like he has followed me for these past few years. He always leads me up the stairs into the darkness, reaching out to me, caressing me like he can no longer see my form. Memorizing every inch of my body, lifting up my skirt slowly with his cool hands, his fangs nipping at my neck, his tongue roving the sensitive skin. I wait for him to bite me, to be inside me, anything, but I wake up. I wake up unfulfilled, alone, lost in darkness, yearning for him. Wanting him to be with me in the darkness. The darkness holds me to it as tight as he does, in my dreams, in my reality. I am the light meant for the darkness. I hold myself in my own arms, empty, thinking about how different I really am. Thinking about how he loves, why he loves me, and why he won’t walk away from me. That thought though always makes my skin crawl, but every night I wander, and I cry under the moon, searching for answers in the stars, when I should be sleeping.

The blackness from the night sky covers me like a warm blanket against Spike’s cold door begging to be opened so I can come to him. Come to his cold arms, and warm deep blue eyes. Come to his bed, and be with him like I have never been with anybody before. No matter how hard I fight him, or push him away I always end up back with him giving him a little more of myself. Giving every bit of myself to him. All this time it finally has come down to him and I. I need him as much as he needs me. The want that burns between us is an uncontrollable fire and when I am not with him it hurts. I don’t understand why I want him, why I need him. There has to be something wrong with me, wanting a soulless, heartless, evil demon I am destined to kill. He loves me so much though, and it is amazing how different this. The pleasure I get from his touch when he is tender, and when he hurts me in all the right places. I yearn for both of those touches from him, pressing myself against the cold steel digging my nails into it wanting to pierce his flesh. Taste his crimson life pour from his wounds I gave him in tremendous pleasure. All I can do now is wait until I can get enough courage to go after everything I want and need from him, standing at this door when I should be sleeping.

Standing here at his door I cannot tell where my dreams end and reality begins. I close my eyes and he is here gently lifting my shirt grazing my warm skin with the tip of his cold fingers melting my skin. My nails dig into his back under his shirt, my fingertips become wet with his warm blood from a fresh feed, and he purrs from the depths of his need for me. His yellow eyes burn me as I bring my small hand up to his lips rubbing my thumb over his bottom lips slowly. His hands find every inch of my warm skin, softly burning my skin with his fingertips, and his tongue darts out between his fangs and sucks in my thumb, wetting it slightly before I run my hands over his ridges. I am locked into those eyes of his moving into his touch as it becomes more urgent and painful. I lean into him searching for his lips devouring him. His hands sail down to the hem of my pants ripping the buttons open urgently searching out my softness. He tares his lips from mine and he quickly finds the sensitive spot of my neck scratching his fangs over my skin drawing up the smallest amount of blood. He draws back and stares thru me when he finds my softness with his fingers, and in one quick look he growls, a moan flies up from the back of my throat, and he attacks my neck sucking the life from me, and my eyes fly open. I am standing here in front of his door digging my nails into the steel drawing out my own blood from the pain, pressing firmly against the coolness of it when I should be sleeping.

My blood tastes different then his does, warmer, and thicker. I need him now more then ever, and I know he calls to me to come to him. That is why I have the dreams. He makes me have them because I know even in his dreams I am there. I am constantly around him as he is constantly around me. I don’t care anymore if it is wrong because I need him so much. I need him to be more then a dream. I know I need him to complete me, to fill all my emptiness and darkness inside of me. I finally step away from the door grabbing the handle and ripping it open because no matter how much I fight myself, or him because I am his girl, and yes I should be sleeping. I should be sleeping in his arms.

Celtic

Feedback is always appreciated

Savageluck@aol.com