Rumors of My Death...
Spike opened his eyes and frowned. He closed his eyes and opened them again, just to be sure he
had opened them the first time. Then he brought his hand up and held it in front of his face.
He couldn't see a damn thing.
"Right, now this is interesting," he muttered, his hand dropping back by his side. It rang
hollowly. "What the...?"
Spike brought his hand up slightly and dropped it again. Same hollow ring. "Oh bugger," he
said, throwing a fist out to his side. It hit with another hollow ring. He repeated the action with
his other fist. Same results. "Don't fucking tell me..."
He lifted his hand straight up and hit a solid surface with yet another hollow ring. He let his hand
drop to his bare chest and sighed. Only one more thing to check. He wiggled his toes and felt
something flap against the bottom of his left foot. He closed his eyes again and groaned. "Unlife
"Oh, this makes things so much better," Spike said sarcastically, reopening his eyes. Amazingly,
or not so considering his state of mind, he could see the Slayer looking down at him. He felt the
pressure of her body laying atop of his and felt his hands going around her waist, despite her not
"What's the cause of death?" Buffy asked him impishly.
"Death by nightdream," he answered. "The Slayer 'fucked' with me too much."
"Ooh, a funny man," she said. "I like that in a vampire. I like you."
"Luv, you don't exist," Spike told her. She pouted. "You don't."
"Why can't I exist?" Buffy asked. "I'm much better than the real Buffy. I know that you're the
greatest fuck in the world. No, make that the universe."
"Slayer, shagging isn't everything," he said.
She looked at him funny. "Are you sure they didn't already do an autopsy on you? 'Cuz it sounds
like your brain is missing."
Spike sighed and closed his eyes again. "Forget it, pet. I don't know what I'm blabbering about.
I'm dead. Again."
He felt her rub her pelvis against him and he stirred in response. "Doesn't feel like you're dead to
me," she said, a grin in her voice.
"Nope, you are," she replied. "I'm in your mind, remember?"
"Don't keep reminding me," Spike grumbled. He shifted on the metal and wondered how he
managed to get into things like this. He opened his eyes and saw Buffy grinning down at him, and
he knew. "You are a bloody pain in the arse, you know that?"
"Yep," Buffy said, nodding enthusiastically. "If I wasn't, would you want me this much?"
"Probably not." He couldn't help but grin. He lifted his hand and slapped her butt. "Do your
stuff, luv. We're stuck in here until some bloke does a body count."
Buffy wiggled against him and he groaned, becoming fully erect beneath his jeans. She brought
her mouth over his and initiated a passionate kiss, their tongues entwining immediately together.
His hand drifted over her has and pulled the material of the skirt she was wearing up, and she
raised her hips slightly so he could bunch it around her waist. His hands then found bare skin and
he grinned into the kiss.
Little fingers moved between their bodies and freed his shaft. The hard zipper of his jeans dug
into the bottom of his sensitive skin, but not too uncomfortably, especially once Buffy sheathed
him inside her softness. As their tongues danced together, she started to rock back and forth with
him deep inside of her.
Spike remembered back to however long ago it was that he pounded the blond into the door of
his hotel room. She had felt so very good, so very hot, so very tight. Her sweet smell had been
overpowered by the musky smell of arousal, her taste had been better than any blood, her mewls
of pleasure more beautiful that a symphony. The kisses they shared were as heated as the sex
itself and her silken softness surrounded him, caressed him, inflamed him further.
Compared to that nightdream, this one really sucked.
He halted Buffy's movements with his hands and broke the kiss. She gave him a quizzical look.
"This is bloody awful," he told her truthfully.
She arched her brow. "How can you have bad sex in your own nightdream?"
"I don't know," Spike said, puzzled by that himself. "Maybe getting my arse beat by my wanker
of a sire has something to do with it."
"You got beat up by Angel?" she asked. "Why?"
"I have no fucking clue," he replied. "He barged in without calling first, smacked my adorable
arse around and now I'm in a tin coffin. I'd tell you to go pay him a little nightdream visit to
relieve some of his bloody tension, but I'm selfish."
"Did he say anything?" Buffy said.
Spike thought a moment. "Yes. He told me you were his, said he smelled me on you and you on
me, then told me to leave you alone. And does anyone else think I'm a raving nutter for having
an intelligent conversation with an imaginary lover?"
"You're cute, so your foibles can be ignored," she told him.
"When did you learn such a big word, Slayer?"
"I should be asking you that," Buffy said with a cheeky grin.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Even in my head, you insult me."
"Would you want me any other way?" she asked.
"Real flesh and blood would be nice," Spike replied. He smirked. "Or tied up on my bed."
"I think you'd like it more if you were the one tied up," Buffy told him.
"That has some possibilities, too," he said. He paused and looked at her, a thought coming to
mind. "Pet, what is it I'm suppose to tell you? The real you?"
"You still haven't figured that out?"
"Well, between the mind-blowing sex and getting trounced by my sire, I've been a tad busy."
"Just close your eyes and listen, Spike," Buffy said, slowly disappearing before his eyes. "And
When she was completely gone, Spike was left alone in pitch black again. He sighed and checked
himself to make sure everything was under cover. Then, as what was really his subconscious
wishes and desires instructed, he closed his eyes and listened.
He heard the door down by his feet being opened, the metal tray he was on being pulled out and
finally quiet snickers of people trying to hold their laughter.
"Ahem, y-yes, that is him," he heard Giles say. He peered through barely opened eyes and saw
the former Watcher by his feet, Willow with her lips pressed hard together on one side, Oz beside
her with an actual smirk on his face and Xander on the opposite, smiling like a buffoon.
Then he saw Buffy hovering slightly behind Giles, who had turned to talk with the morgue
attendant. She had a hand over her mouth and her eyes were dancing with laughter. She reached
out with her other hand, plucked the toe tag from his left foot and waved it at him.
He was never going to live this down.