Chapter 6: Come Together

Buffy sat on her bed twiddling her thumbs, waiting patiently (or trying to, anyway) for Spike to appear.

"Where are you?" she asked. "I need to see you."

While she waited, Buffy took the opportunity to look through Spike's journal. She still felt funny reading someone else's private thoughts, but he told her it was alright. Her curiosity about finding out who he was outweighed the ambivalence about intruding.

The thick, leather-bound journal covered the last several years of his life in varying detail. William Randall Giles had been a sensitive, studious young man, who loved to read and write poetry and short stories. The other boys had picked on him a lot, he didn't have many friends. His mother died when he was 10, leaving his father Rupert to raise him. Rupert had been a good man, but a bit of a workaholic. William spent most of his time alone. He raved about his cousin, Darla, though. She was an angel to him, always kind and loving, more of a friend and confidant than merely a relation. She never judged him and made sure to make him feel important and loved. It was plain from his writings that he loved her more than anyone else. There were only a few entries after he came to live with her in June of 1978. Apparently, he was too distracted to keep up with it during that time. The last entry, July 1st, had him promising himself to try and make it a point to get back to journaling.

When William was 14, he met Cecily Adams. A young woman whose father was a high-powered attorney. There were a few love poems written to Cecily (obviously never sent) written in the book. Buffy could only make out a word or two here and there as the poems had been scribbled over in an almost vicious fashion. When she read further, she understood why. Cecily had brutally rebuffed William when he told her that he was in love with her. She didn't let the poor guy down easily either. Cecily had told him that he was 'beneath her', that his attentions made her sick and caused her embarrassment. On the pages that followed, young William poured his heart out; all the depression, grief and humiliation he felt were laid out on the pages. Buffy's heart went out to him.

She also read about the girl in his dreams, her. Buffy was taken aback by the descriptions of herself. He really did dream about her. She read the entry from his 16th birthday; he had a highly erotic dream about her that night. Dream Girl had come to him at night, approaching his bed with her usual kind smile. Then she had slowly stripped for him while he laid in bed, watching her every move, afraid and excited at the same time. The dreams had never gone this far before. She climbed into bed with him and proceeded to make him a man (in his dreams anyway). He'd never had sex before, but his descriptions of the feelings and what he experienced seemed dead-on. Buffy felt a strange sense of pride that she (kind of) had been his first, just as her Dream Man (Spike) had been hers.

Early 1978 was when William made himself over into Spike. He was tired of always being the butt of jokes and letting people get over on him. He changed his image and let his inner-bad boy out. Spike attended youth dance clubs and started getting into punk rock. He was still too thoughtful and sensitive to truly live the lifestyle, but he had fun hanging out with people worlds apart from his usual crowd.

That day Buffy also opened up the trunk. There wasn't much inside: More clothes, some things that he'd kept belonging to his mother, some of the poems and stories that he'd written (Buffy wanted to read those), some photos of family and friends (photos of a young, smiling, dark-haired Spike with a man who must have been his father), etc. There was also a large stack of Playboys, including a copy of the very first issue with Marilyn Monroe. It was encased in plastic to preserve it. Buffy shook her head and smiled. He was a Marilyn fan, eh? If Spike didn't mind, maybe Xander would like to keep the magazines.

A half hour passed. Buffy was just about to give up for the night, when she felt the tingling sensation. Her skin prickled pleasantly, a shiver of arousal shook her body.

"Spike?"

Spike formed near the bed. He looked even more opaque than before. Buffy had to look closely to see through him.

"Hello, Buffy," he greeted her with a smile.

"Spike, I'm so happy that you're here! I was about to give up on you again." Buffy patted the bed next to her.

Spike moved and sat down near her. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment.

"I read your journal. I'm sorry you had such a hard life."

Spike smirked. "It's okay. That's all over and done with now. It's not like I was abused or had alcoholic parents or anything. I was just a giant git."

"I thought you sounded very cute, I would have talked to you. And I went through the trunk a little too..."

Spike raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

She giggled, "I found your dirty magazines."

"Hey, they're not dirty," Spike protested with a smile. "A woman's body is a work of art."

"I agree. I'm not coming down on you or anything for having them. I'd be worried if you didn't have some kind of porn. Would you mind if I gave them to Xander, even the Marilyn issue?"

"Mmm, Marilyn," Spike sighed dreamily, then shook it off. "Um--no. You can give them to Xander if you'd like. I don't mind."

"I...read about me--I mean, the girl in your dreams," she blushed.

"You were right the first time, luv. It was you."

They glanced at each other like shy teenagers. Buffy wanted to talk more about the wet dreams, but there was the other dream that needed discussing.

"I have to talk to you about something else," Buffy said.

"Alright".

"Last night--after you left--I had a dream."

"Was it a bad dream?"

"No...it wasn't bad. It was just strange."

"What happened?" Spike couldn't resist touching her knee.

Buffy's skin was set ablaze by his cold touch. She burned for him. She took a breath to steady herself and push back her need for his body. It was important that she tell him the details of the dream before they could--relax.

"I dreamed I was in the past. I saw the house when it was all fixed up. I saw your cousin and you. You were moving in with her. And I knew the date somehow. It was June 2, 1978."

Spike's eyes widened. He looked away from her, trying to figure out what was going on. That was the date he had moved in. How could she know that?

"Spike? Is that the way it happened?"

"Yes...you saw it happen in the dream?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, you two were all happy and bantering. You were telling her about how you changed your appearance since the last time you saw her, at Christmas. She was so pretty...She seemed nice."

"She was," Spike agreed and his jaw twitched. "Why would you dream about that?"

"I don't know. It was weird. I was in the dream but I couldn't talk to you or touch you. I could only listen and follow you around."

Spike was afraid. He was afraid that that dream was only the first in a series, culminating with that terrible night.

"It's okay, Spike," Buffy said, seeing his nervousness. "I'm not freaked out by it anymore. It was probably because I looked at your journal."

He nodded. The journal was most likely the reason, but he had a bad feeling. "Just tell me if you have another one like it, okay?"

Spike didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily by telling her his fears. It would be horrific if Buffy had to witness the whole sordid, bloody tale.

"Okay," she agreed. After a few moments, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Do you think...I can touch you tonight? I want to..."

"We can--give it a go. I'm not sure if I can get--solid--enough for very long..." he said, desperately wanting to be able to do it.

"Please. I'd like to try," Buffy said. "You've made me feel so good, I want to touch you, too."

Spike stood up and faced her, then made his clothes dissolve off his body again.

"That is so cool..." Buffy smiled as her eyes roamed over his magnificent body. "You're so beautiful."

She noted that part of him seemed to be getting pretty 'solid'. Her smile broadened. She studied his body with an artist's eye, exploring every line, sharp curve and plane with her eyes, committing all of it to memory.

He ducked his head shyly. The way she was looking at him, every inch of him, was making him feel self-conscious. Buffy's tongue darted out to lick her lips as she locked gazes with him and slipped out of her yummy sushi pajamas.

"Can I touch you now?" she asked, her hand already starting toward him.

Spike nodded, then concentrated, harder than ever, on becoming as flesh. He wouldn't be able to maintain this state for very long. Hopefully it would be long enough.

They both sighed dreamily when Buffy's fingertips came into contact with his chest. She pushed gently against him. He wasn't totally firm but she could definitely work with this. As long as she didn't try to grip him too strongly.

Spike closed his eyes. This was the first time in 25 years that he'd felt the touch of another person. The heat from her fingers spread through his whole body.

Buffy kneeled on the bed and got closer to him, moving her hands gently up and down his chest and stomach. Her fingers skimmed the surface of his torso, touching him in veneration. Her passion grew by leaps and bounds.

"B-Buffy--I don't know how long I can keep this up for. I might disappear without warning...I hope that doesn't happen," Spike moaned as her hands slid over his hips and her lips touched the center of his chest.

"We'd better get started right away then..." Buffy said, taking his cock in her hand and stroking up and down.

It felt cool to the touch, throbbing and twitching in her hand. She lifted it up and out of the way, leaning in to kiss then lick at his scrotum.

Spike gasped and tilted his head back in pleasure. Buffy continued licking and sucking lightly on his balls, then slid her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She kept her movements and touches light, which was difficult considering how she wanted to ravish him.

Spike's fingers whispered through her blonde hair. She watched him while she laved his glans with her tongue. Her pussy ached at the blissful, enraptured expression he wore. She sucked and licked the head stronger, harder, her hand stroked the base in a twisting motion. It was like devouring a ghostly popsicle--a delicious ghostly popsicle.

"Buffy--so good--Ahhh!" Spike's hips rocked slightly. He looked down at her. "Do--you want to try--having sex?" he panted.

Buffy released his organ from her mouth and hands. Never taking her eyes from his, she crawled backwards on the bed to the center, then laid on her back. Spike crawled onto the bed to her. He hovered above her and settled his body over hers. Her legs spread wide, opening herself to him.

Spike smiled, bending his head down to kiss her tenderly as he moved himself into position.

"I love you," Buffy said breathily as their lips brushed against each other.

Spike felt tears springing to his eyes. He never thought to hope that she would feel the same way about him. "Buffy...I love you too--so bloody much. I always have...I always will."

They crushed (with as much pressure as they could) their mouths together as he guided himself into her opening. He had been concerned that it wouldn't work, but it was working just fine. He put most of his energy into making his cock hard and solid for her.

They moaned as his cool staff sunk into her sweltering heat. They expected to hear the hiss of steam at the contrast in temperature. The only sounds were their sighs of feeling complete for the first time.

Buffy's hands slid up his arms to his neck, touching him like she would skim her hands along the surface of the water in the pond. She could feel him inside of and surrounding her totally. Never before had she known such peace and bliss. This was how she wanted to feel forever.

Spike slowly began moving inside of her, whispering his love and devotion in her ear.

"Yes--Spike--Yessss!" Buffy moaned.

He kissed the side of her face as he pumped into her gently. Buffy turned her face to recapture his lips, forgetting soft caresses for a moment, her lips passed into his before she remembered and pulled back. Her hands went into his hair, feeling its silky softness.

"Harder--Spike!" Buffy felt the orgasm building in her loins. "Ohhhh!"

Spike squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on being inside of her and the unimaginable pleasure it brought. His hips moved faster. He felt an impending orgasm around the bend. He wondered what would happen? Would he cum? And if he did, would it be liquid or ghost cum? Only one way to find out...

They kept up the pace for several minutes until it was too much.

"Ohhh--Ohhh Spike!" Buffy groaned, rolling her hips. "Ahhhh--GOD--OH YES!" Her body began to shake, her hands roamed over the muscles of his back, her eyelids flapped.

"Buffy!" Spike grunted, feeling himself hurdling over the edge with her.

Buffy felt him spasming inside of her pussy, but she didn't feel the gush of warmth (or coolness, in his case) of his spunk. Still, it was the most exquisite feeling she'd ever had.

After their tremors began to subside, Spike lifted his head and smiled down on her, warming her like the heat of a thousand suns. Her fingers softly touched his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones lovingly. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered.

"I love you, too." Her eyes slid closed.

Buffy opened her eyes again when she felt the slight weight of his body begin to lighten even more. He was becoming more transparent. She felt profound sadness that he'd have to leave her again.

"Sorry, luv," Spike apologized, still on top of her. "I'd never leave you again if I had a choice."

"I know." Buffy gave him a watery smile. "Please come back to me--as soon you can."

"I will." He leaned in and kissed her once more, then he was gone.

Buffy made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob as she slid her naked body under the sheet. She'd felt his cock inside of her right up until the second he disappeared, leaving her suddenly bereft. She was deliriously happy that they'd consummated their love. But they had a ton of obstacles in their way to happiness, the main one being his non-living, non-corporeal state. She touched two fingers to her lips. She could still feel the tingles from his kiss lingering.

Why did he have to be a ghost? Why did God do this to her? She was a good person, she never hurt anyone or kicked puppies. Why couldn't she be with the man she loved? Spike surely hadn't deserved his fate either. No one deserved to be stabbed to death. Why couldn't he be a flesh and blood human again?

Her thoughts slowed as sleep claimed her, and she began to dream...


Buffy was in the mansion's past again.

June 7th, 1978

The dining room table was set with three places. Darla and a man came in.

The man was tall with shoulder-length brown feathered hair and a high forehead. He had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.

"So where's this cousin I've been hearing so much about?" he asked.

"He should be down soon," Darla said, sitting down at the head of the table.

"Darla, when can I move in, babe? I practically live here anyway, why not make it official?"

"Angel...I--"

"Evenin'," Spike said, strolling into the dining room.

"Hello, Spike." Darla brightened.

Spike went to her and bent down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Angel's eyes narrowed slightly.

"This that Angel bloke?" Spike asked, looking over the brunette. "Nice hair, mate," Spike snickered.

"I hope for your sake, Darla, that you don't let 'Spike' here talk to your high society friends like that," Angel said, staring Spike down.

"Boys, please." Darla wrung her hands. "Let's play nice, okay? Angel, this is my cousin Spike. Spike this is--"

"I'm her boyfriend," Angel finished.

Spike smiled tightly. "How nice."

Buffy wondered why the two men took an instant dislike to each other.

Spike took his seat. "So, what's on the menu, cuz?"

"Oh, you'll love it! Tonight we're having--"

"We're having duck a l'orange," Angel finished her sentence again. "Lucy does a terrific job on that recipe."

"Would it kill you to let Darla finish her own bloody sentences, mate?" Spike asked, looking at Angel with steely eyes.

He didn't like how dominating this man seemed to be towards Darla. Spike was getting a bad vibe from him.

"Listen, mate, I don't have--" Angel started getting red in the face.

"Angel! Spike! Please! Don't argue. I want you two to get along," Darla said anxiously. "Please make an effort, okay?"

Spike saw how distraught she was and swallowed his dislike of her boyfriend. He sat back and nodded.

"Sorry, Dar. Guess I'm just a bit cranky from hunger." He gave her an easy smile and put his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.

Darla smiled back, breathing a little easier.

Angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously again. He didn't like another man touching his woman. Even if it was her cousin...


 

Buffy woke up. She blinked, processing the fact that she was back in reality. It was still the middle of the night.

She turned over on her other side to face the window, wishing Spike were here with her, holding her.

'What does it mean? Why am I seeing what happened back then? Am I supposed to do something with the information? I didn't read anything like that last dream in the journal...That Angel guy seems like trouble...'

Exhaustion caused her eyes to drift shut again. Another dream was queued up in her mind and ready to go...


Buffy was in the kitchen this time.

June 10, 1978

"Geez! I just had a dream, isn't one a night enough? Okay, now what?" Buffy said, wondering what the next chapter in this story would entail.

It was frustrating not being able to interact with Spike or anyone else. Buffy preferred taking action to sitting back and observing. But she had no choice where these dreams were concerned.

A tall, distinguished-looking man with salt and pepper hair was searching through the cabinets. A young boy, who appeared to be in his early teens, was sitting at the table engrossed in a book.

Spike entered and went to the refrigerator, getting a can of Tab. Buffy sighed at how delicious he looked wearing his ripped jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. His hair was all pointy.

"Hey, Ethan," Spike greeted the butler and took a sip from the can.

Ethan smiled. "Good afternoon, Spike. Sleep well?"

Spike nodded and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"I'm afraid you missed lunch, but I could fix you something if you'd like," Ethan said.

Spike shook his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate." He looked at the young man, whose nose was buried in a book. "Who's the kid?" Spike asked.

"Oh, this is my nephew, Percy. He's going to be spending some time with us here. I'm looking after him for my brother," Ethan said. "Percy? Percy, I'm speaking to you."

The boy tore his eyes away from his book and looked at his uncle.

"What is it, Uncle?"

"Honestly, Percy, it's polite to respond to someone when they're speaking to you."

"Sorry, Uncle." Percy looked down, properly chastised.

"This is Spike. He's Miss Darla's cousin. He's from England as well."

Percy regarded Spike curiously. "You're Miss Darla's cousin?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you look like a street person then?" Percy asked innocently.

Buffy giggled. The kid was certainly honest and forthright.

"Percy! What sort of thing is that to say? I'm sorry, Spike...Percy's social graces need improvement."

Ethan was embarrassed by his nephew's candor--even if he did agree with his assessment.

Spike laughed, "Hey, it's all right. I do look unrefined. I like you, kid."

"I'm not a kid. I'm 14. You can't be much older than that yourself," Percy said haughtily.

Spike walked over to him. "Sorry, my mistake, mate. What are you readin' there?"

"It's a book about Jackson Pollock. Do you know his work?" Percy asked, expecting a 'no'.

Buffy walked over and looked over Percy's shoulder at the book. She admired Pollock's work, too.

"Yeah, some pretty revolutionary stuff," Spike nodded, looking at the book. "His paintings have an almost--physical kind of energy, don't they?"

Buffy looked at Spike, surprised but pleased. "You know about art? I didn't know that."

Percy's face lit up. "Yes! I always thought so. It reflected his own turbulent personality."

Percy was pleasantly surprised that Spike seemed to have a brain. The punk rock exterior had fooled him into thinking that Spike was all style and no substance. Maybe he would have someone to talk to during the summer besides his Uncle Ethan after all. Miss Darla was too pretty to talk to. Every time he tried to talk to her his face turned beet red.

Spike smiled at the younger man. Percy reminded Spike of himself at that age. Only instead of poetry and writing, it appeared that Percy's passion was art. Percy was small for his age, his hair was blonde, unruly and slightly curly, a pair of glasses were perched on his nose. Spike had to do a double-take when he first got a good look at the kid. They could have been brothers.

"Well put," Spike patted him on the back.

Spike resolved to make friends with the tow-headed kid. He remembered how much he wanted friends or just someone to talk to when he was younger.

"I was going to go up to my room and listen to some tunes. You wanna come?"

Spike tried to live up to the bad-ass image he wanted to project, but dammit, he was a big softie when it came right down to it.

Percy just looked at him for a moment, as if he were trying to comprehend that someone wanted to spend time with him. Spike knew the feeling.

"Aww, that's so nice of you, Spike," Buffy said, smiling at his kindness.

"Yes...that would be...cool." Percy smiled.

Buffy followed Percy and Spike to his bedroom.

They sat on the floor while Spike got out his cardboard box full of albums and tapes. Percy dug into it enthusiastically, 'Oooh'ing and 'Aaah'ing at Spike's collection.

Spike put on his 'Blue Oyster Cult' album and leaned back against the bed, nodding his head to the beat.

"Spike?" Percy asked.

"Yeah?"

"Why--are you being nice to me?"

"Cause I want to. You got a problem with that?" Spike smirked.

"No. I'm just surprised. I mean, look at you. You're cool. Why would you want to hang out with me?"

Spike sighed. "I didn't always look like this. I bet you're usually shy and keep to yourself, right?"

Percy shrugged noncommittally and started digging in the box again.

"And I bet someone like you, with your delicate bone structure, smaller frame and superior language skills, gets picked on and knocked about a lot."

"Are you going to arrive at anything resembling a point anytime soon? Or are you just trying to make me feel like shit?" Percy asked, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile.

Spike laughed boisterously, wiping tears from his eyes. Buffy laughed too.

"You've got a pair on you, Percy. Okay, my point is that I was just like you. I know what it's like to want to be included in things, just to have someone talk to you like you're a real person, an' not something that they scraped off their shoe. I thought it'd be nice to get to know you, you seem like a good bloke."

Percy smiled. "Thanks." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what Uncle Ethan would do if I bleached my hair like yours..."

Spike laughed again, "Right after he killed me, you mean?"

Spike and Percy laughed.

Buffy's laughs dried up at the mention of killing. It was going to happen one of these times. She was going to be forced to see it in living color whether she liked it or not. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it. She was terrified.



 

Chapter 7: In the Dark
 

Dark circles lined Buffy's eyes the next day. She hadn't gotten a lot of sleep lately; Spike's nocturnal visits and now the vivid dreams she was having had her going on practically no sleep. Still, she couldn't just sit back and rest while her friends did all the work. She tried to put on a happy face and do her part, after all, she was the one who insisted on taking on the house.

Buffy, Willow and Xander were working in the kitchen again. It was like one in a hotel; it was huge. Willow was especially happy with it, since she loved to bake. She promised them a big batch of chocolate chip cookies once everything was hooked up and in working order.

They were cleaning to the music on Xander's boom box. This time, he was playing his 'Dance Mix'. Deee-Lite's 'Groove is in the Heart' was playing.

Xander was groovin' and singing along again:

"The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled with satisfaction when we're done satisfaction of what's to come

I couldn't ask for another No-No-No, I couldn't ask for another I couldn't ask - "

"XAN!" Willow interrupted him.

"What? I'm just gettin' my swerve on," Xander said with a boyish grin, wiggling his hips.

"Try a little more cleanin' and a little less swervin'," Willow waggled her finger at him, a small smile touched her lips. "We need to replace those tiles...get busy, Mister.

"Xan, the electricians are coming the day after tomorrow," Buffy said off-handedly. "Why don't you go down to the basement and make sure there's a clear path to the box."

Xander paled, his mouth went dry. "I--don't want to."

Willow sighed. "Come on, Xander! What are you afraid of?"

"What am I afraid of, she asks...Where do I begin? There's--something down there. I can--tell," Xander said, looking fearfully at the door to the basement.

"Like what?" Willow asked, putting her hands on her narrow hips. "Bugs? Maybe some vermin?"

"Those things and much, much more, I'm sure," Xander said.

"Hey, Xander," Buffy attempted to bribe him, "I bet there's all kinds of neat things down there...bikes, perhaps bottles of wine, old toys...You can have whatever you find."

Xander seemed to consider this for a moment.

"And I'll bake a whole batch of cookies, just for you," Willow added more incentive.

His eyebrows raised and he licked his lips lightly. A whole batch of chocolate chip goodness all to himself was too tempting.

"Alright."

Buffy and Willow smiled triumphantly.

"But--if something kills me, I'm soooo going to haunt your asses," Xander said, trying to sound funny rather than scared out of his wits.

"Oh, you big baby!" Willow laughed. "I'll come down and help just as soon as I finish taking down this cabinet."

Xander picked up the biggest flashlight they had, a big yellow B&D with an extra wide beam. He took a shaky breath and opened the cellar door. He looked back at Willow and Buffy, but they were already back to work, not paying attention to him anymore.

'Shit...I have such a bad fucking feeling about this...'

Xander gulped and started down the stairs.


 

It was spooky as hell down there. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Xander took one last look up at the door and the precious light before moving further into the cavernous basement.

Xander shone his flashlight all around. There were dozens of wine racks and kegs. He smiled, hoping that some of the stuff was still good. It would be great if they could find an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate with when they finished the house.

Xander sang 'Groove is in the Heart' under his breath to take his mind off of his fear. There were piles of junk scattered around the room. He was anxious to go through them and pluck out the treasures that he knew would be waiting, but that would wait until the power was turned on. There was no way he was going to spend any more time down here than he had to right now.

Xander exhaled in relief when he finally found the fuse box. There were only a few obstacles in the way, which he swiftly moved aside. It only took him a few minutes.

"There, that wasn't so bad," Xander laughed nervously then turned and started walking back to the stairs.

His flashlight went out. He had to bite back the shriek that wanted to explode from his mouth. He frantically tried switching it back on, then hit it with his hand. It still wouldn't work.

"Okay--Okay! It's okay! I'll just--feel my way back," Xander said to himself, his heart going wild in his chest. "Just some...bad batteries...that's all..." He put his hands in front of him and went in the direction of the stairs, at least he hoped that he was going in the right direction.

He started to sing to himself in a tight, anxious voice, stuttering the lyrics:

"Your groove--I do d-deeply dig No walls, only the br-bridge, my supperdish My succotash wish Singin', b-baby

I couldn't ask for--"

Xander stopped walking and singing when he heard what sounded like someone laughing. His eyes started from their sockets and shot around, searching the inky darkness of the cellar.

"Who--who's there?" Xander's blood ran cold.

"Who's there?" a low, gravelly, rasping voice mocked him then giggled insanely.

"Oh fuck--oh fuck--oh fuck," Xander whispered, moving his feet again. The voice made his hair stand on end; his skin crawled like a thousand ants had descended on him at once.

A scraping, dragging sound came from in front of him. He stopped again, afraid he'd run into whoever, or whatever it was.

"Willow! Buffy!" Xander yelled, his heart felt ready to explode from fright. "Guys! Come down! Hurry!"

"Shhhh!" the voice said, coming closer. "It's just you and me, beautiful. Leave those bitches up there where they belong..."

"What do you want?! Who are you?!" Xander walked clumsily backwards. "Leave me alone! Please!"

"Leave me alone! Pllleeeaaasseeeee!" its croaking voice mocked.

Xander felt something icy and clammy brush against his face. He screamed and flung himself backwards, waving his arms in front his face.

"BUFFY! WILLOW! HELP!!" Xander screamed, landing on his backside.

"They can't hear you," it chuckled gratingly, scraping the ground as it walked towards him. "No one will ever hear you again..."

Xander swung his flashlight in panic from side to side, hoping to hurt whatever it was that was after him. He screamed when he felt the icy fingers touch his cheek again. At that moment, his flashlight stuttered back to life. He could see what it was; he wished that he hadn't.

It was hideous, the stuff of nightmares: Its skin was purplish-blue and flaking off of its face; its eyes were black, evil marbles; its purple lips were pulled back in a grin, revealing its rotten teeth; a black, sludge-like substance oozed from its mouth; its hands reached for him.

Xander's testicles shriveled up into his body as he let out a blood-curdling scream. "N-NOOOOO!"

Suddenly, the grotesque creature was flung away from him. Xander scrambled backwards, swinging the flashlight beam around to keep track of where it was.

Another person (thing?) stepped in front of him, facing the creature that had attacked him.

"Leave him be," the other said in a firm, accented voice.

Xander looked at the newcomer. He could almost see through him, like he was there but not all the way.

The attacker hissed. "This is MY place! You have no say here, boy!"

"Wrong. My cousin owned this place. You only worked here. I have the run of the house," the British specter said. "You know I can hurt you. I suggest you leave all of them alone."

"Go--go into the light!" Xander yelled, remembering stuff from ghost movies.

The bleached blonde ghost looked at Xander over his shoulder. "There's no light for him, mate. He's stuck here, or it's off to the bad place for him."

The other one growled and advanced on Xander again. Just as Xander was ready to let another scream rip, the British ghost stepped between them and shoved the shuffling attacker away.

"I said leave him alone, pillock!" he snarled. "You couldn't be a good spook and just rattle some chains, you had to try to hurt him. Get the fuck out of here before I really get pissed."

It looked at Xander then back at the blonde ghost, making a decision. It wailed in rage and frustration then faded away to nothing.

Xander was breathing heavily, making him wonder if he was going to pass out. He quickly felt the front of his jeans to make sure he hadn't wet himself; he was happy (and surprised) to find that he was dry.

The helpful ghost walked over to Xander. "I'd offer you a hand, but..." He held up his hand, opening and closing his fist. "I'm not substantial enough for ya to grab onto."

"You--won't hurt me?"

"Nah. That's not my style, mate."

"Tha-thanks...for...What was that thing!? What are you?!" Xander asked, standing on his wobbly legs.

"It's gone now. And I think you can guess what I am. Have Buffy get a priest out here. That one could cause you problems, as you witnessed. I didn't know he was that strong or I would have warned her."

"Y-You--know Buffy?"

"Yeah...she's a nice chit..." Spike hoped Xander couldn't see the blush that was creeping up his face. "Hey, you should get back upstairs now. Come on, I'll lead the way." Spike turned around and walked slowly toward the stairs, checking behind him constantly to make sure that Xander was close.

Xander followed. "Why didn't they come help me when I was screaming my head off?" Xander asked angrily. He was deathly pale and his body trembled all over.

"The guy, the thing, that was after you made it so they couldn't hear. Not their fault. And they couldn't have guessed that something would jump you like that. Especially not Willow, her bein' a skeptic an' all."

"How do you know us?"

"I've lived here for a long time. I was curious about the new folks movin' in. I overheard you lot talking now and then."

Xander shivered. "I can't believe this is real...it's fucking crazy! I almost got killed by one ghost and got saved by another...who I'm having a conversation with. Though I gotta say, you're a lot easier on the eyes than the other...guy," Xander fell back into joking to cover his real emotions.

Spike chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, mate. I know it must be a bit overwhelming for you. Something like this would've sent me packing when I was alive, too. And--here we are," Spike said, gesturing at the stairs.

The door had closed at some point.

"Go on," Spike said. "Remember about the priest. Have one come out and cleanse the basement."

Xander nodded and swallowed, his blood was still pumping furiously in his veins. He started up the stairs but stopped and turned back to Spike.

"What about you? Won't it get rid of you too?"

"No. This isn't my usual place. I just came down because I sensed that you were in trouble."

Xander gave him a weak, but grateful smile. "Where is your usual place?"

"Upstairs...the second floor mainly. I can't stay any longer...I used up a lot of juice fighting off Rufus." Spike started to get more transparent.

"Rufus?"

"Yeah, that was his name. Nasty bloke."

"Th-thanks again..." Xander said then turned, walking quickly back up to world of the living.


 

There were many animated and heated discussions that afternoon following Xander's emergence from the cellar.

At first Willow hadn't believed Xander's harrowing tale. But Buffy confessed to 'knowing' Spike and having conversations with him, too. Willow didn't know what to think; her firmly held beliefs were hard to penetrate. No matter whether she believed him or not, Willow could see how frightened and shaken up Xander was. He wasn't joking around this time and Xander never lied to her.

Xander was still thoroughly shaken by his experience. A warm blanket was wrapped around him; he huddled under it. He could still feel that thing's icy fingers touching him.

Buffy was frightened that Xander had been attacked by one of the spirits, while at the same time bursting with love and pride for Spike. He had kept his word and saved Xander from--who knew what fate.

As per Spike's instructions, the three of them drove into town and talked to the local priest about their problem. They had expected him to be skeptical or dismissive. But when he heard where they lived, he merely nodded knowingly and said he'd be out first thing in the morning to bless the cellar and tell the spirits there to move on.

That evening, they were gathered in the living room. Several lanterns and candles lit up the room. All of them, even the still doubtful Willow, wanted to have as much light as possible.

"Can you call him?" Xander asked Buffy.

"He...can't always come. But I'll try," she replied. "Spike? Can you hear me?"

They waited in silence for a few minutes.

"Spike? Maybe he's feeling shy..." Buffy said.

"You guys realize how nuts this is, don't you?" Willow asked, fidgeting.

"You don't think we know?" Xander asked, his voice tight with tension. "A fucking ghost almost killed me today! I know exactly how nuts this is."

Spike could hear them calling and talking. He was still feeling a bit weak from his exertions that afternoon and there was the ghostly instinct to stay hidden from others. But he couldn't ignore Buffy. He drifted into the living room.

Buffy felt his presence before she saw his vague form. She broke out into a large smile.

"Spike! He's here!"

Willow and Xander stopped arguing and looked at Spike. Willow was speechless; her mouth opened and closed. Spike concentrated hard to appear more clearly to them.

"It's okay, Wills," Xander said taking her hand. "He's the one that helped me, he's not dangerous."

"Spike, thank you for helping Xander," Buffy said.

Spike smiled and nodded curtly, "It's s'alright..."

"What--who was that guy?" Xander asked.

"He was a caretaker here, in the 50's I think, a little before my time," Spike said, his voice soft. They had to strain a little to hear him. "Name was Rufus. He was pretty much as evil a bloke as they come. Did terrible things to people...I don't think you want me to go into detail."

Xander shuddered.

"He won't leave the basement, so no worries for tonight, yeah?" Spike said to Xander.

"Yes worries! Big, fat, hairy worries! I can't sleep with that thing running around!"

"You--can sleep with me," Willow said, then added, "Not in a sex way, so don't get any ideas," she tried to joke through her fear, hugging Xander.

"Why could that thing touch me?" Xander shook off the tremors that wanted to shake his body at the remembrance. "You couldn't touch me, so why was it able to?"

"I am a ghost, but I'm not an expert," Spike explained. "I don't know the why's or what for's. All I know is that for some reason, we're getting stronger. Not just me, the others are too. Maybe it has something to do with all of you moving in, maybe your energy is feeding us. Now, most of the others, you don't have to bat an eyelash about. They can't or wouldn't hurt you, they're harmless...but there are some like Rufus, down there, that are quite mad and brassed off. I'll keep 'em off of you as best I can."

"You can hurt them?" Buffy asked. "Xander said you shoved that thing around."

"Yeah, being ghosts, we're on the same plane of existence...they don't teach this shit in science classes...I can't kill them, obviously, but I can put a hurtin' on them, they know that. And they don't want to fight me, I fight dirty." Spike smirked.

"But it touched me. Can you touch people too?" Xander asked.

Spike and Buffy exchanged a flirty glance then looked away bashfully.

"Uh--yeah...sometimes," Spike answered.

Xander caught the glance. His eyes widened.

"Are--Is--Have you two..." he trailed off. "Holy shit...are you--involved?"

Buffy blushed furiously. The cat was out of the bag.

"Buffy? Are you and--Spike having a--" Willow struggled for an appropriate word.

"Don't wig out..." Buffy said. "We--We're...close..."

"Don't wig out?!" Xander said in disbelief. "You tell us you and a ghost are--I don't even know what to call it--and you don't think we should wig?"

"I know it's weird," Buffy protested. "But he's also the one who saved you today. He's a wonderful man...just a little--life-challenged."

Something clicked in Willow's mind and her eyes got bigger.

"Oh my God! That night I thought I heard you--with someone...it was him? You said 'Spike'...I didn't know what that meant at the time..."

"I'm so embarrassed." Buffy put her face in her hands.

"They're right to think it's strange, pet." Spike went over to her, wishing he had enough energy to touch her. "It is." His hand petted the air just above her head.

"Spike...are you sure the priest won't banish you, too?" Buffy asked nervously.

"Not a 100%, no. But you can't have dangerous ghosties roamin' around your house."

"A-fucking-men!" Xander said.

Buffy bit her lip. She couldn't take it if something happened to Spike.

"It's necessary, luv. Don't worry about me."

"I can't help it," Buffy said looking up at him with watery eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Spike laughed lightly. "I'm already dead, Buffy. That's pretty much as bad as it gets. I'll be fine."

"Okay...but you have to...stay far away from the priest tomorrow. And--I'll stay with you while Willow and Xander show him around."

"If that would make you feel better...okay." Spike smiled.


 

The next morning, the priest, Father Callahan, came out as promised.

A very jumpy Willow and Xander led him to all the spots that Spike had pointed out. The spots that the potentially dangerous spirits resided.

Meanwhile, Buffy sat on her bed with Spike. They talked about safe topics: music, art, etc. She showed him her sketches that she'd made of him over the years.

"That's a nice one," Spike said, pointing to a sketch. "Damn, I am a good lookin' sonuvabitch, ain't I?" Spike smirked, trying to get a laugh out of her.

She had colored the sketch in. In the sketch, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, a sly smirk was on his face.

"Yeah, I...always liked that one too..." Buffy said absently.

Her hands were shaking slightly. She was still terrified that he would be yanked away from her.

"Luv," Spike made his hand solid and touched her lightly, "it'll be okay."

"I--I want to believe that, but--" Buffy looked into his eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you...I love you."

Spike smiled broadly, his eyes twinkled. "I love you, too. God himself would have to come down here and drag me away by my hair to make me leave you, pet." He squeezed her hand. "Even then, I'd go kickin' and screamin'."

Buffy smiled back. "Can you hold me?"

"Let's see," Spike said, feeling a surge of energy run through his body.

Buffy put the sketches aside and slowly leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. Spike put his arms around her, using every bit of strength and will he had to become more substantial. There was enough resistance for the embrace.

Buffy sighed happily. "It feels so good...being in your arms. I want to stay here forever."

"Forever's a long time, pet." Spike's eyes slid closed at the sensation of having her pressed delicately against him.

"I gave the Playboys to Xander, he needed something to take his mind off of--what happened in the basement. To say he was pleased would be an understatement..." Buffy said, then giggled. "You should've seen his face when he saw the Marilyn issue--like a kid on Christmas morning."

"Nice to know they're going to someone who'll appreciate them."

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?"

"I had more dreams about the house, about when you lived here. I had two of them in a row the other night."

Spike swallowed. "What did you see?"

"In the first one, you and Darla were having dinner with her boyfriend, Angel. In the second one, you were talking to Ethan and Percy in the kitchen."

Spike pulled away and looked at her, fear on his face. "You're seeing it...You're seeing what really happened."

"Spike, tell me what happened. It's becoming pretty clear that I'm going to see it eventually. I'd rather be prepared."

Spike opened his mouth to respond, to begin to tell her what was in store for her, but the memories were wrenched away from him. He looked confused.

"What is it?" Buffy asked.

"I...can't remember...I knew it a minute ago. But it's gone now..." He got up and paced back and forth.

"Are you sure you just don't want to tell me?"

"Pet, I don't want to have to tell you, that's true. But you do have the right to know...I honestly can't recall..." He ran his hands through his hair.

"It's okay," Buffy soothed. "I'll go into town to the library after Father Callahan is finished. I want to read the newspaper accounts of what happened. You can tell me when you remember."

She knew that he might not remember before she had the dream. The last date had been awfully close to the day of the murders. Tonight was probably going to be the night.

"Come here," Buffy extended her hand to him.

Spike walked back to her and took her hand, kissing it gently.

For the next two hours, Buffy and Spike stayed close, talking about anything and everything. There was still a prevailing fear that Spike would be banished along with the other spirits. They were relieved when Xander came up and told them that the priest was done cleansing the 'hot spots'.

Assuring her that he was just leaving to rest and regain some energy, Spike disappeared. Buffy felt the same crushing loneliness she always felt when he left her.



 

Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream

Buffy sat in the town library looking through old newspapers for anything about the house.

The librarian named Jenny, an attractive, dark-haired woman in her 50's, approached her table with a few newspapers.

"Here," she said putting the stack down next to Buffy, "I was finally able to find the other ones you wanted. The ones right after the murders."

Buffy looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"No problem." The librarian looked like she wanted to say something else then though better of it.

"Is...there something else?" Buffy asked.

"I was surprised when I heard that someone finally bought the old Lawson place. How's that--working out for you?"

"It's been...interesting," Buffy said carefully.

Jenny sat down across from Buffy and leaned in to speak to her quietly.

"Have there been any strange things in the house? I don't like to spread gossip, but I heard that it's haunted."

"There've been some strange things, yes," Buffy replied. "I wanted to find out about what happened there."

"Oh, there have been lots of tragic things in that house. In the 50's there was a groundskeeper and handyman named Rufus Carter. He lured young boys into the basement and...well...you don't want to know more about that. It was a huge scandal at the time. An angry mob put an end to his life."

Buffy shuddered. That had to be the thing that assaulted Xander in the basement.

"Here," Jenny said, pulling out the July 5th, 1978 edition of the town newspaper, and sliding it over to Buffy on the tabletop, "this will tell you about what happened as far as the 'Independence Day' murders are concerned. They called it that despite the fact that it happened after midnight on the 5th...I guess it just had more of a ring to it."

Buffy looked at the newspaper. The headline read:

"GRISLY MURDERS SHOCK TOWN"

Buffy looked back at her. "Did you live here when it happened?"

Jenny nodded. "It was terrible. Mrs. Lawson was such a lovely woman, so kind and pretty. She married old man Lawson and inherited everything from him when he passed away. Darla was her name, isn't that pretty? She and three other people were all killed in the house that night."

"They never caught who did it?" Buffy asked.

"No. They never formally charged anyone, believe it or not." Jenny whispered conspiratorially, looking around to make sure no one else was listening. "Very strange, a very rich and influential person was murdered and there wasn't a thorough investigation. Not that I make a habit of spreading rumors or gossip..."

"That is strange," Buffy said, frowning.

Poor Spike and the others. They hadn't even had the satisfaction of having their killer tried in court.

"There had to be some kind of massive cover-up," Jenny whispered.

"What can you tell me about Angel O'Connor?" Buffy asked.

"Oh, yes. I remember him... He was Darla's gentleman friend. Tall, dark and handsome. He moved away a few months after the incident. He lives in L.A. now as far as I know, running his father's hotel business. Very rich and powerful..."

"Was he investigated?" Buffy wanted to know. "He seems to be the most likely one to have committed the crime."

"I--think he was--briefly. But he was never a prime suspect, at least as far as the police were concerned...I wouldn't go around asking people about this if I were you. The O'Connors still have a lot of pull here..." Jenny warned.

"You think he did it too, don't you? Why wasn't he arrested?"

"It's not right, but money makes the world go 'round, Buffy. We've seen it over and over again the last few decades. If you have enough power, fame or money you can literally get away with murder," Jenny explained sadly. "He did it alright...everyone knows that, whether they say it or not."

Jenny's attention went to the counter, where another woman was waiting with a stack of books.

"I have to get back to work." She stood up. "I'll check back with you in a bit."

"Thanks for your help," Buffy said with a weak smile.

She felt sick. Everyone who was around back then thought Angel was guilty, but nothing had ever been done about it.

Buffy read the article:


Four people were found dead at Lawson Manor, early on the morning of July 5th. The cook, Lucy Juarez, found the bodies.

The bodies were identified as: The widow of Harold Lawson, Mrs. Darla Lawson, 31; her cousin William Giles, 19; the head of the household staff, Ethan Rayne, 52; and his nephew Percy Rayne, 14.

A police insider informed us that the bodies had been stabbed repeatedly and viciously. These are the worst acts of violence the town has seen since its founding, according to one source.

Police Chief John Kramer assures the public that no stone will be left unturned in the investigation and that he is supremely confident that the killer or killers will be caught soon.

Police are combing the residence and questioning the staff for evidence. Those who attended Mrs. Lawson's 4th of July party are also being questioned.

There are no immediate suspects in the case.

We will report more on these heinous crimes as the information comes in.


Buffy put down the paper, her hands trembling.

Angel did it. But his family's influence and money had made him exempt from punishment. Who knew how many other people he'd killed in the last 25 years. And why did he kill Ethan and Percy too? What could they possibly have done, in his eyes, to deserve death?


 

Buffy went back to the mansion to continue work. She informed Willow and Xander about what she'd found out at the library. They were shaken, but mostly pissed that the real estate agent didn't see fit to tell them about what had happened there.

They could see how tired Buffy was and insisted that she go and lie down for awhile. Buffy had put up a weak protest but decided it wasn't such a bad idea. The last several days had really taken it out of her.

She curled up on her bed and dropped off to sleep almost immediately. Another dream played out...


Buffy was in the living room. She took in her new surroundings and wondered what was going to happen this time.

June 28, 1978

Spike and Darla sat on the plush rose-colored couch eating popcorn and watching TV. Spike had his feet up on the coffee table (Darla gave up telling him not to), Darla was leaning back against him.

"I never watched so much TV before you got here, cousin dear." Darla smirked. "You're turning me into a junkie."

Spike chuckled, "Nobody said you had to watch, I'm not holding a gun to your head."

The show 'Starsky & Hutch' began.

"This show is bloody brilliant, it's my favorite," Spike said chewing on a piece of popcorn. "I have to get one of those cars..." Spike started bouncing and making 'wokitcha-wokitcha' sounds to go along with the funky theme song.

Darla giggled. "I like this show, too. You enjoy the violence and the car, while I can enjoy the gripping stories and, of course, the hot guys. Mmmm! That Starsky has the cutest butt! Just look at it! Makes you want to grab a handful."

"Ewww!" Spike gave her a mock-disgusted look. "Now you're gonna have me thinking about his ass."

"How about when we watched 'Charlie's Angels'? I had to endure an hour of gratuitous bikini wearing and jiggling breasts. I think I'm entitled to a little juicy man-butt watching."

Spike screwed up his face. Darla tickled his sides, making them both laugh.

"Cut it out! I'm trying to watch the bloody show!" Spike wriggled. "You're gonna make me spill the popcorn!"

"Well, isn't this...cozy," Angel said from the archway.

The giggling cousins stopped their horseplay and sat up.

"Angel," Darla smiled tentatively, "what are you doing here? I didn't think you were coming over tonight."

"Hmm...I decided to come see my favorite girl anyway. Sorry to interrupt your evening," Angel said, his eyes glittering.

"Oh, you're not interrupting," Darla insisted. "Would you like to join us?"

Spike grimaced. He wanted to actually enjoy his evening, Angel's presence was like a black cloud. There was no way Spike could relax with him around.

"I'm not in the mood to watch television. Come on, baby, let's take a walk." Angel held his hand out to Darla.

She looked at Spike's disappointed face then back to Angel. Darla really wanted to stay and watch the show but Angel rarely took no for an answer. She knew that if she said no, Angel might get angry. Then Spike would get angry. Then they might fight. So, in the interest of keeping peace, Darla took Angel's hand and stood up. Truthfully, she was quickly tiring of her boyfriend and his demanding nature.

"We'll watch together next week. Okay, Spike?" she asked him.

Spike shrugged. "'Kay."

He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her not to let that wanker tell her what to do...but he bit his tongue.

"We're just going to take a stroll," Darla said.

Angel grinned. "See you later, Spike."

Darla and Angel walked out. Spike looked after them for a moment and shook his head. Darla could have her pick of men. Why was she settling for that obnoxious, overbearing, Keith Partridge wannabe? He could counsel his cousin, but her love life wasn't really his business. Spike focused his attention back on the TV.

Buffy looked at him sadly. The date of the murders was approaching fast. Her next dream could be the one...


Another dream started almost seamlessly, disorienting her with the sudden change in surroundings...


Buffy spun around when she found herself out on the rear lawn.

July 4, 1978

It was evening. There were red, white and blue streamers, colored lights and lanterns decorated the lawn. At least 50 people were sitting at tables chatting amongst themselves. Everyone was in good spirits.

Spike and Percy came into view. They were wearing shorts and soccer shirts and Percy carried the ball. They were laughing and a bit sweaty. They had been playing a game of night soccer on the west lawn with the help of floodlights.

"I kicked your ass!" Spike pushed at him good-naturedly.

"Bollocks!" Percy said, pushing back. He'd obviously picked up a few words from hanging around Spike. "It was like you were standing still, I--"

"Hi, guys," Darla said walking up to them. "Have a good game?" She smiled sweetly.

Percy immediately turned red and looked away shyly. "Yes, Miss Darla," he said in small voice.

Spike smirked. "Percy, could you get us something to drink. I'm parched," he asked, giving the love-struck boy an escape.

"Sure!" Percy said, racing away.

Darla chuckled, "He's adorable. Ethan said Percy doesn't have an easy time making friends."

"He's a good kid," Spike said, drying himself off with the towel around his neck. "He's fun to hang out with, once you bring him out of his shell."

"You were quite the little turtle yourself, weren't you?" Darla nudged him with a grin.

"Yeah." Spike smiled.

Ethan approached them.

"They're going to start the fireworks in a few minutes, Miss."

"Good. Thanks, Ethan," Darla said. "Everyone was getting a little restless."

Ethan turned to Spike. "Spike, I wanted to thank you again for keeping Percy company."

"Oh--that's not necessary. He's a good kid, you know?" Spike said. "Everyone doesn't have to keep thanking me for hanging out with him. I wouldn't do it if I didn't like him."

"Well, he thinks the world of you. Every other word out of his mouth is 'Spike thinks this' and 'Spike does that'." Ethan grinned. "He's a bit too fond of your hair though. Please try to disabuse him of the notion that he'd 'look cool' with his hair styled like yours."

Spike and Darla laughed.

"I think he's pretty cool, too. And I'll do my best talkin' him out of the hair style."

"Please do," Ethan chuckled. "I have to see to some of the guests, if there's nothing you need?"

"No, we're fine, thanks Ethan." Darla put her hand on his arm and squeezed lightly.

With a nod, Ethan went towards where the guests were seated.

Spike and Darla began to stroll further down the lawn together. Buffy followed after them.

"Angel didn't come?" Spike asked. He was happy that the lumbering lummox wasn't here, but he had to make an effort for Darla's sake.

"No," Darla said with disappointment, then after a beat, "I'm going to end it with him."

"You are?" Spike tried to hide his glee. "I--thought you liked him?"

"I did--I still do...sometimes. He's just getting--I don't know--more possessive, more controlling and jealous. He actually shook me by the shoulders the other night..."

Spike stopped, his face screwing up in anger. "What?! You didn't tell me that! That bastard! I'll fucking--"

"Spike, please! Don't do anything! That's why I didn't tell you. I was afraid you'd do something rash."

"Bloody right, I'll do something rash! I'll kick that prick's ass! Who does he think he fucking is, putting his sodding hands on you?!" Spike's hands formed tight fists, his nails dug into his palms.

"No, Spike! I just want it to be over. Don't make things worse. Please!"

Spike could see she'd be pissed if he did what he wanted to--what the situation called for. But...he didn't want to upset her. Once again, he swallowed his feelings and made an effort to calm down.

"Okay...okay, I'll--I won't do anything," Spike said slowly. Then he looked at her, his eyes deadly serious, "But if he touches you again...I'll kill him."

Darla touched his face gently. "He won't touch me again. But...it's good to know I have you. Someone who wants to protect me with no ulterior motives." She smiled. "I love you."

Spike melted. He couldn't be pissed when she looked at him so sweetly.

"Love you too, cuz."

"Even though you're all sweaty, I just have to give you a big hug," Darla laughed then put her arms around him. "I'm so grateful that you're here, Spike."

Spike put his arms around her and hugged her tightly, closing his eyes. The thought of Angel putting his ham-hands on Darla made him shake with rage. She was a woman and a petite woman, at that. How dare Angel touch her in anger.

"You want me to be there when you give him his walkin' papers?" Spike asked.

"No. I'd like to do it privately," Darla said worriedly. "But...you can be nearby...if that would make you feel better."

"It would."

The sound of the fireworks going off interrupted them. Still hugging loosely, they turned their faces up to the sky and watched the colorful explosions with childlike expressions of wonder. The party-goers 'Oooh'ed and 'Aaah'ed' at the display.

Buffy stood next to the cousins and watched too, amazed again at how real these dreams were. She could even smell the acrid odor of the gunpowder in the air.

"You Yanks know how to throw a party, I'll give you that," Spike said, holding Darla tighter for a moment.

Unseen by the others, Angel watched them from a distance. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were beady and narrowed to slits. Something snapped in his mind at seeing Darla and Spike embracing. He had known that Spike was up to no good, he knew it...

"I'll put an end to that...I'll make them wish they hadn't fucked with me. I'll teach them a very valuable lesson."

Angel turned and walked back to the house. Planning.


 

Buffy woke up to the sound of knocking on her door.

"Buffy?" Willow called. "Xander brought back some hamburgers for dinner. Are you getting up?"

Buffy rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, I'll be down..."

She sat up, thinking about what she'd seen in the dreams. If only she could warn them about what was coming. But she couldn't. She couldn't even spare herself the ordeal of watching it happen. The next dream was going to be the big one.

And there was nothing she could do to prevent it. *************************************************************************************



 

Chapter 9: Don't Fear the Reaper


[A/N: This chapter gets very bloody and violent. The murders are described in graphic, gory, bloody detail. My poor, sweet Tiana had a hard time beta-ing this one. The images are sure to disturb you, they may be a little too intense for more sensitive readers. Be prepared.]

That night, Spike came to Buffy again. They laid on the bed together while he petted and stroked her face and body. Buffy was tied up in knots and shaking with anxiety. She didn't want to sleep again. If she did, she'd see it. She'd have the murder dream.

"I'm sorry, pet," Spike said with a rough voice. "If I could spare you this...I would."

"I know. It's not your fault...Someone or something wants me to see all of it for some reason." She kissed him lightly.

"What if I'm doing it? What if unconsciously, I'm sending these dreams to you..."

"Stop it. Don't blame yourself," she soothed.

They settled back into silence.

"You still don't remember everything?" Buffy asked.

"No. I only remember--the pain--and the emotions of it...not the details." Spike closed his eyes, feeling the grief, terror and pain of that night.

Despite her best efforts, Buffy's eyes slid closed. Her breathing became steadier as she fell asleep. Spike watched her face, wondering if he should try to keep her awake. But she'd dream it eventually, if not tonight. Perhaps it was best to let it happen rather than have her be a nervous wreck.

Spike cursed himself when he felt his body begin to fade. He wanted to stay with her, to be here with her when she woke up. Before he vanished, he ran his fingertips over her cheek and gave her a sweet kiss.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, luv. Be strong," he whispered, then was gone.


 

Buffy was in Spike's bedroom of the past again. She could sense that it was the same evening as the last dream.

July 5, 1978

"Oh--Oh, no..." Buffy whispered, realizing that it was coming. It was the date that the murders happened. Her blood turned to ice water in her veins.

Spike was lying on his back in bed looking at the ceiling, wearing only his jeans and a pair of big headphones over his ears. He was listening to his stereo silently. Buffy wanted to touch him and talk to him and warn him about what was going to occur, but she knew she couldn't interact with him in the dreams. She'd tried.

It was 1:35 AM.

"Spike, I wish I could change what's going to happen," Buffy said. "I want to yell at you to run, to get away from here...I wish--"

There were a series of ear-piercing screams from downstairs, both male and female.

Buffy gasped and jumped.

"OH GOD!" she cried. "It's starting! Spike! Oh--Please get out of here!"

Spike didn't hear anything with the headphones on. He continued to lie there, oblivious to the ghastly crimes being committed downstairs.

He nodded his head and shook his foot slightly to the beat pounding in his ears. When Darla told him that Angel had roughed her up, Spike had wanted to find him and beat the shit out of him, and he still did. But out of consideration for his cousin's wishes, he'd try and behave himself. One thing was for sure, if the pillock tried laying his hands on her again, he'd pay.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears to drown out the screams. "Make it stop! Please, God! Make it stop!"

One of the screams stopped, leaving two people yelling and pleading for their lives. Then it was down to one voice, a female voice, Darla's.

"PLEASE--NO! NOOOOO!" Darla's muffled cry came from downstairs.

After a few minutes, Spike sighed and removed the headphones, intending on trying to get some sleep.

Spike sat up abruptly, his head whipped towards the door when the screeching assaulted his ears.

"Darla!? Darla!" he yelled, jumping off the bed and racing out the door. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest, afraid of what it was that could be making her shriek like that.

Buffy ran after him, tears streaming down her face.

Darla was stumbling up the steps, pulling herself upwards holding onto the banister. She was bleeding from the nose and mouth.

"He's crazy, Spike!" she screamed hysterically, her eyes were huge, her puffed and bleeding face streaked with tears. "He--He killed Ethan and Percy! Oh God! THEY'RE DEAD!"

Spike ran to her halfway down the stairs and pulled her against him.

"Darla! What happened?!" Spike panicked, his brain locked up. His attention was attracted to a figure standing below them on the landing.

Angel stood at the bottom of the stairs with a 12" butcher knife in his hand and a demented grin. Blood dripped thickly off the knife onto the carpet.

Buffy looked down to the foyer and gasped, putting her hand over her mouth and looking away sharply.

Spike stared at Angel in shock as he held his weeping and bloody cousin. Spike's eyes then went to the foyer, to the prone forms of Ethan and young Percy, his friend. Ethan was lying half in and half out of the living room, Percy's body lay by the front door, bloody finger marks trailed down the white door, as if he had been trying to claw his way through it. Blood was everywhere. Their throats had been cut, their shirt fronts were soaked with blood.

"You crazy bastard..." Spike muttered in disbelief, his vision blurred with a flood of tears, his stomach rolled at the grisly scene. "You--You murdered them?!"

"That's right, I did kill them..." Angel said. "And guess who's next?" He grinned.

Spike looked away from the bodies and down at his bleeding, whimpering cousin.

"WHY?!" Spike roared in fear and fury.

"They thought they could get away with screwing my woman behind my back!" Angel snarled. "NO ONE makes a fool of Angel O'Connor! NO ONE!"

"You're insane! They never touched her! Percy was only 14 fucking years old! He was just a kid! He never had a chance to--" Spike's voice broke into a sob as his face crumbled. "You bastard--Oh God! This--can't be happening..." Darla clutched at Spike and bawled. "I'll fucking kill you for this! I'll kill you!" Spike yelled, his face contorted with rage.

"Come and get me, boyo," Angel beckoned to him. "On second thought, I'll come to you..." Angel started mounting the stairs, his hand gripping the knife tighter.

Darla started screaming again. Spike started backing up the steps, watching Angel getting closer. The insane glint in his eyes and the toothy grin on his face were off-putting to say the least.

"You're crazy..." Spike whispered.

Angel barked with laughter. "Am I? Crazy like a fox maybe. You think I can't see what's going on right under my nose, you fucking punk!?"

"What are you talking about?" Spike said in confusion, still inching his way up the stairs.

"You and Darla. I know you're fucking her, too! You've been sticking it to her ever since you got here!" Angel bared his teeth.

"What?! She's my bloody cousin! NOTHING like that is going on!"

"Likely story, mate," Angel sneered. "I've seen it! I've seen the way you two look at each other, I've seen you kiss her, I've seen the touches, I've seen you hug her just a little longer than you had to! You don't think I saw it, but I did! She's mine!"

"Angel, please! Don't do this! Please stop!" Darla pled with him.

"Shut up, whore!" Angel screamed.

"Don't call her that, pillock!"

"Aww, you don't like me calling your whore a whore? Too fucking bad."

"That's why you beat her?! That's why you killed two innocent people?! Because you think we're all having sex with her?! What kind of bloody man are you?!"

"The kind that doesn't take any shit. You're not going to be so pretty when I'm through with you, Spike. I'm going to carve you up into little--tiny--pieces," Angel's smile broadened as he made slashing movements in the air with the knife.

Angel started walking more quickly up towards them. Spike knew it was useless to try and talk the nutter down anymore, he was completely around the bend. Spike started running back to his room, pulling Darla with him. Buffy ran in the room right before Spike and Darla got in and he slammed the door shut.

Angel threw his body against the door to force it open, but Spike and Darla leaned heavily against it. Spike turned the lock.

Darla screamed and cried, "No, Angel! Please!"

"Let me in, you BITCH!" He hurled himself into the door. "I'll slit your fucking throat!"

"That's not giving us any incentive, you bloody bastard! Go to Hell! The cops are going to be here any minute!" Spike lied, but prayed that someone had called before the carnage began.

Poor Ethan and Percy. They hadn't done anything to anyone, they didn't deserve the deaths they'd gotten, they didn't deserve the fate that had been cruelly thrust upon them. Percy was only a kid...Spike fought to maintain his composure. The pain, grief and rage he felt rose up like the bile in his throat. He had to keep a cool head for Darla's sake, he couldn't fall apart. Not now.

Spike looked around frantically for something to use against the large, insane man with the knife.

Buffy stood near the window with her hands over her face, crying. This was how it had happened. This was how he had died. She didn't want to have to see this, she couldn't watch this. Buffy pinched the skin of her arms as hard as she could to wake herself up, the skin turned white between her shaking fingers.

But it didn't work. She was still here.

"Climb out the window or something! He's going to get in!" Buffy shouted in panic.

The tension and stress of the moment made her forget that she couldn't change what happened here, only observe.

All of the sudden, the banging on the door stopped. Spike put his ear to the door and listened to Angel's footfalls move away.

"I think he's leaving," Spike whispered, hoping that Angel got afraid of being caught and decided to hoof it.

"Don't unlock the door!" Buffy cried. "He didn't leave!"

Darla broke down in tears. "I'm so sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry you had to get involved in this!"

Spike hugged her. "It's okay. Shhh. I won't let him touch you again, I promise. I'll kill him first." He kissed her forehead.

"He killed them...he murdered them right in front of me. It all happened so quickly...I'm--so scared..." Darla whimpered.

It had started with Angel coming into the living room unannounced. Darla had risen from the couch only to be smacked down again. He accused her of sleeping with every man she'd ever said hello to and continued to beat her.

Ethan was in the kitchen with Percy (still cleaning up from the party) when her screams attracted their attention. They had rushed in and dragged Angel away from her. Angel shook their hands off and stalked away into the kitchen. They were helping Darla and asking if she needed an ambulance when Angel came back out with the knife. The three victims backed out of the room into the foyer, then Angel had attacked. Ethan was the first to die, then Percy. Fresh tears sprang from Darla's eyes.

"It's alright, Dar. Don't cry. We'll wait here 'til we're sure he's gone, then we'll get you to the hospital and call the police." Spike stroked her back.

He couldn't help but blame himself. If he hadn't had those earphones on, maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have incapacitated Angel before he had a chance to hurt anyone. Now it was too late--far too late.

"C'mon." Spike helped her away from the door and over to the bed.

Darla sat down then curled up on her side. Spike picked up his t-shirt from the floor and gently tried to wipe away the blood on her mouth.

"Is your nose broken?" Spike asked, controlling his temper.

He wanted to tear Angel limb from limb.

"I--don't know. I don't think so..."

"Try to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. It's going to be okay, Dar," Spike said with far more confidence than he felt. He handed her the shirt as he brushed her hair gently back from her face with his fingers.

There was a rattling sound coming from the door.

Their heads whipped towards the sound.

"The key! Oh God--He has the key!" Darla cried.

Spike sprinted to the door just as it was opening. He pushed against it with his whole body to force it closed again, gritting his teeth with the strain. But Angel's murderous rage and larger body proved too much for him. With a triumphant yell, Angel threw the door open. Spike was slammed hard between the door and the wall, the back of his head bounced hard against the wall, stunning him for a few precious moments. Angel stormed in, heading for Darla on the bed.

Darla and Buffy screamed.

Spike pushed the door off of him and ran at Angel, grabbing at his arm and punching him in the kidneys. Angel was so pumped up that he barely felt the blonde's powerful punches, but it was enough to annoy him.

Angel turned around and punched Spike repeatedly in the face, breaking his nose and splitting his lip, so that blood gushed down his face. Spike stumbled back, stunned momentarily. He bumped hard into the dresser and the mirror banged off the wall. Angel went to the bed and grabbed Darla's arm, dragging her off the bed. She screamed and twisted in his grasp, hitting and scratching ineffectually at him. He hauled back and punched her hard in the face with the knife curled tightly in his fist. Her head rocked back from the force of the blow; her body sagged to the floor next to the bed.

"Bastard!" Spike bellowed, recovering from the vicious blows he'd received and charging at him again.

He grabbed Angel's arm that wielded the knife, trying to twist it behind him. Angel shoved him away and wheeled on him.

"I'm going to kill you, boy." Angel grinned. "I'm going to gut you like a pig."

Spike came back swinging, connecting several times with Angel's face. Angel grunted and lurched backwards into the nightstand. Spike rushed him and tried to pry the knife out of his hand.

Buffy's hands were joined together under her chin in prayer as tears ran down her cheeks. She knew how this would end, no matter how well Spike seemed to be doing. She couldn't look away.

Angel yelled and beat Spike back brutally. Darla was trying to stand up, using the bed to help her stand.

"Angel, please! Please STOP!" Darla begged. "I'll do whatever you want! I'll marry you, I'll give you everything! I'll do anything!" But it was too late for any of that.

Angel and Spike struggled in the middle of the room. Angel shook his arm free, swung it backwards in an arc then rammed it into Spike's midsection, sending the knife plunging into his body. The blade was so long that it broke through the skin of his back.

(More screams)

Spike's eyes were wide as he clawed at Angel's shoulders. He was in shock from the incredible, burning pain and the fact that he'd actually been run-through. Somehow, he never believed that it could happen. He thought he'd get the knife away from Angel before something like this could happen, just like on TV and in the movies.

Angel smiled and punched the knife brutally through him twice more, making Spike shout in agony. He pulled back to look Spike in the eyes.

"I told you I'd kill you. Don't look so surprised," Angel laughed wickedly, then twisted the knife. "I believe I said something about gutting you like a pig..."

Spike shrieked again, his eyes fluttered, blood sprayed out of his mouth in a fountain. His weak fingers closed around and tugged at the neck of Angel's shirt. Angel jerked the knife upwards inside Spike's body. The sound of his flesh ripping and his screams filled the room.

Angel shoved him away forcefully. Spike's back hit against the dresser then he fell forward on his face. He groaned and clutched at his torn flesh, his frantic mind told him that he had to keep his insides from spilling out. His bright blue eyes were wide, his face was in a rictis of agony.

Buffy was weeping and sobbing freely. She kneeled down by his head, her fingers fluttered around his face.

"Oh, Spike! This is so horrible--Oh God--I don't want to be here!" Buffy cried.

"Darla..." Spike grunted, blood pouring from his mouth.

Angel was trying to drag Darla off the bed again. She was staring at Spike in shock and horror, watching as the pool of blood spread beneath him.

"Noooo! NOOOO! Spike!" Darla struggled and scratched at Angel. "You sonuvabitch! You bastard!" She bared her teeth and tore at him like a wild animal. "You killed him! YOU KILLED HIM!"

Angel punched her again, sending her flying back onto the bed. Totally enraged and quite insane, he straddled her waist and raised the knife high into the air.

"I'll teach you to make a fool of me, you BITCH!"

"NO!" Spike croaked, reaching a shaking, blood-covered hand out weakly towards the bed.

The knife plunged down into Darla's chest. She screamed and gasped. Angel's face was a grinning mask of pure evil as he plunged the blade into her over and over again. After the first 10 stabs, Darla's struggles stopped, but he kept stabbing anyway.

Buffy buried her face in her hands and screamed shrilly. She couldn't wake up from this nightmare.

Spike shut his eyes, helpless sobs wracked his body. He hadn't been able to save her, he hadn't been strong or fast enough to protect her like he promised he would.

Finally, Angel stopped and stood up, wiping blood from his face. He was breathing heavily from exertion as he looked at Darla's twitching body for a few moments. Then he looked at where Spike lay on the floor and smiled again.

"Guess I'll be taking a little trip...don't want to go to jail. What's the matter, mate? You get to die with your whore. Isn't that romantic? Here."

Angel took Darla's limp body from the bed and threw it down near Spike. She landed with her head turned towards him, her face slack and lifeless.

"You two can have one last cuddle to carry you over to the afterlife. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a little traveling money and be on my way."

Angel hurried out of the room. The rage was wearing off and he was beginning to panic. The enormity of what he'd just done was sinking into his brain. His only thought was of escape.

Spike looked into Darla's wide, unseeing eyes. He moved one blood-covered, shaking hand to her face and clumsily stroked her cheek, leaving streaks of his blood there.

"I'm--sorry..." he whispered to his dead cousin.

Spike's breathing became more labored. He gasped and clutched at his stomach.

"Oh God--it--hurts...." he gurgled, aspirating blood.

His eyes dimmed and his body drooped, one last, drawn-out, rasping breath rattled out of him.

Buffy was hysterical.

"Spike! Oh God! Oh God!" She rocked back and forth, hugging herself while she stared into his dull, lifeless eyes.

Even as a spirit, his eyes held more life than they did at this moment. Buffy thought of the dead, baby bird she'd found in her backyard when she was 8--that's how its eyes looked.

The pool of blood from Darla and Spike's bodies spread further. Buffy could feel it seeping into the fabric of her jeans as she kneeled by Spike's inert form.

If she didn't wake up soon she was going to go insane. Buffy put her hands over her face and shrieked.


 

"Buffy! Buffy, wake up!" Willow shook her by the shoulders.

"Spike!" Buffy shouted, starting awake and bolting upright in bed.

"Buffy, you were having a nightmare. You were yelling. Are you okay?" Willow asked, her face worried and drawn.

Xander stood by the foot of the bed looking similarly concerned. Buffy's screams had scared him to death.

Buffy looked around her, her face wet with tears. She touched her hand to her forehead. Her body was covered with sweat and she was trembling badly.

"Oh God--it was horrible--it was horrible!" Buffy sat up and grabbed a pillow, hugging it against her. "So much blood--so much..." She rocked back and forth.

"Buffy, what happened?" Willow sat next to her and rubbed her back. Xander went to her other side, not knowing what to do for her.

"The d-dream--the nightmare...I saw it...I saw Spike and Darla murdered by Angel," Buffy hiccupped.

"Oh, Buffy...I'm sorry..." Willow tried to comfort her.

"It's over now," Xander said, patting her leg. "It's okay now."

Willow handed Buffy a tissue to blow her nose. Buffy sniffled and wiped her wet face.

"It was terrible...I knew it was going to be bad, b-but not like that. Everything was so real. The screams--the blood..." Buffy looked around. "Where's Spike?" She needed to see him so badly.

"He wasn't here when we came in," Willow said. "I'm sure he'd be here if he could."

"I know," Buffy sobbed. "That murderer is still free, still alive and--doing God knows what. Maybe that's why I was made to see all of it...maybe I'm supposed to make sure he gets put behind bars where he belongs..." The wheels were turning in her head.

"Whoa, Buff," Xander said nervously. "I don't want you getting involved with this. That guy's obviously a cold-blooded killer."

"I am involved, Xander. It was personal before, but now...now that I've seen what happened with my own eyes. He has to be punished for what he did," Buffy said, squaring her shoulders, feeling driven.

"I don't think Spike would want you to put yourself in danger," Xander tried to talk her out of it.

"That's why we won't tell him. He might overhear us, but unless he finds out that way, I want it to remain between us." Buffy looked into their faces. "Alright?"

"I don't like the sound of this either, Buffy," Willow said, "But...I'll help if I can."

Xander swallowed his fear at the thought of tracking down a ruthless killer, then nodded. "I'll--help too..."

"Thanks," Buffy said gratefully, tears still leaking from her eyes. "We can't let Angel get away with it."

She shivered when the images from the nightmare flashed before her eyes.

Willow and Xander stayed with Buffy for the rest of the night. She didn't want to be alone. They began to formulate a plan to finally bring Angel to justice.



 

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