For The Love Of Spike
Chapter 7


Through a haze of pain-filled blackness, Spike heard his name being frantically called.  He struggled to pull himself to consciousness, recognizing Katherine's voice.  Then, with a twist of pain and a gasp of effort, Spike opened his eyes.

"Oh, thank God!"  Spike felt Katherine hug him tightly as he quickly sat up.  "I couldn't wake you up.  You were thrashing around and moaning in your sleep."  He returned her embrace hesitantly, still disoriented, then more tightly as he regained his senses.  Had he really been dreaming?  It had seemed so real...

"Yes, thank God," he agreed, relieved that she was alive, that he had been only dreaming.  He pulled her away, examining her, lightly running his fingers over her face and throat, reassuring himself the she was alright.  Then, when he was satisfied, Spike allowed Katherine to scoot back under the covers.  She turned onto her side, her back to him, and cuddled against him as he wrapped an arm around her waist and settled the covers over them.

"It was a really bad dream," he murmured close to her ear, wanting to talk about it but not being able to ask.  She muttered something, half-asleep, and heaved a huge sigh of relaxation.

Spike lightly shook her shoulder.  She grumbled and turned over, now facing him.  Spike noted that her eyes were heavy enough to keep them closed, rather than waste the energy looking at him.  Amused by her disgruntled expression, Spike smiled and kissed her lightly.

"I dreamed I was in Prague again, when I first met Drusilla."  Katherine opened her eyes to slits, hummed a "Mm-hmm," and closed them again.

"In the dream, I found Drusilla."  No response.  "She had just killed you," he said plainly. That got her eyes open.

"Oh, darling," she started, reaching up and stroking a hand over Spike's shoulder comfortingly.  "We've both got to stop this nonsense dreaming.  You're not going to die, and I'm not going to die, so let's just go back to sleep, alright?"

Spike said nothing, searching her gaze.  There was a tight, familiar clenching inside him, one that demanded to be appeased.  It worsened as he ran his gaze over her.  He took the hand that rested on his shoulder and pulled her closer.

"No," he said, and kissed her.

"No?" Katherine repeated, pulling away.

"That's right.  I don't want to sleep with you.  I want to sleep with you."  He slipped free the first button on her flannel pajama top and was starting on the second before she swatted his hands away.

"What are you talking about?  You want to sleep with me, but you don't?  What can you possibly...oh."  Katherine's eyes widened, and she quickly sat up and re-buttoned her shirt.

"I don't think that's a very good idea," she said, visibly nervous.  Spike, thinking that she was fooling around, playfully snagged her by her waist as she tried to climb out of bed, and tumbled her onto her back.  He looked at her, sprawled over tangled sheets, rumpled and barely dressed, and felt a wave of desire for her.

"You're not going anywhere, luv," he said quietly, and pinned her wrists to the mattress.

"Spike, no."  She jerked her hands against his hold.  "I don't want you to."

Spike ignored her and kissed the corner of her mouth.  She wanted this.  He hadn't missed her signals.  Hadn't she crawled all over him when they'd first met?

"Stop it!"  Katherine's voice rose as she struggled.  Why was he doing this?  Wasn't he listening to her?

When Spike whispered in her ear, "C'mon.  You know you want it," then shifted and bit her earlobe, panic erupted within her.  She used her new vampire strength to shoved him, hard. Off-balance, he fell out of the bed.

"I said no," she told him, her heart beating wildly.

Katherine and Spike sat there for a moment, stunned by the other's actions.  Spike listened for a moment to Katherine catching her breath, then stood slowly.  Just as Katherine opened her mouth to speak, Spike felt a rush of anger and frustration that he couldn't explain or deny.  He shook his head at her and said quietly that he was going to take a shower.

Katherine watched him walk away and could do nothing to stop the sobs that rose in her throat.

Because Spike couldn't have possibly heard anything over the beating water, he vamped out, then used his heightened senses.  Immediately, as the sound of Katherine's uncontrolled sobbing filled his head, Spike wished he hadn't.

He morphed back to normal, finished his shower, and stepped out of the narrow stall only to hear nothing from the bedroom.  Quickly, Spike reached for a towel to wrap around his waist, then stepped into the room to find it completely empty.

The next evening, Spike was no longer angry or frustrated.  He was in a state of panic.

Immediately after he had found Katherine gone, he had called the airport, thinking that she had gone back to Sunnydale.  But no flights had left for anywhere in that area.  After that, Spike mustered as much psychic power as he could and cast out his thoughts, searching for Katherine's unique blaze of life.  Nothing.

Just as he was about to storm out, determined to search the entire city for her, the door opened.  To Spike's surprise and relief, it was Katherine herself who entered.

"Where in hell have you BEEN?" he shouted, dropping his black leather duster jacket and rushing over to her.  When she raised her head, the look in her eyes stopped him faster than any fighting stance.

"Around," she said quietly, and shut the door.  She saw Spike's hands twitch and clench and knew that, no matter what she meant to him, he was only a couple of minutes away from tearing into her.  She explained.

"I went to see my parents' lawyer, and settled their estate, as they say.  Then I went to the morgue and identified their bodies.  After that, I went to a funeral home and arranged for a service, which I will not attend.  And tomorrow night I'll be heading back to Sunnydale."  She turned away to hang up her own leather jacket.

Spike stared at her back for a moment, then sputtered, "That's it, then?  You just up and left and made these decisions without me?  Did you even stop to think that maybe I would've wanted to be there along with you?  No, of course not," he said quickly, mocking her, answering his own questions.  "You're too selfish to think that maybe I was worried about you.  You were too busy thinking about yourself to stop and consider that your actions might affect me. "  He turned away, too angry to face her.

Silence filled the room, then she said angrily from behind him, "First of all, I don't need you to hold my hand.  I'm perfectly capable of handling things, and don't need or want you with me while I make decisions that don't affect you.  And second, 'I'm selfish'?  You were worried?"  Spike turned his head slightly, not looking at her, but listening.  Her voice rose.  "YOU were the one who nearly raped me this afternoon, dear, darling Spike.  YOU were the one only thinking of his or her self.  Not me."  Her voice broke, deceiving her, and she struggled for control.

By this time, Spike had turned completely to face her and was staring at her in disbelief. "I didn't rape you, or even come close to doing so.  I'm not a monster."

"Oh, how ironic," she said mockingly, her voice thick with withheld tears.  "The big, powerful vampire isn't a monster.  Well, here's a Twentieth-Century newsflash: a girl shouldn't have to tell her boyfriend to stop four times, and then have to shove him away to save her skin.  If she does, that's half a step away from all-out assault, and there's probably not a girl in this country my age who stands for it."

A muscle twitched in Spike's clenched jaw.

Katherine sighed, looking away, then said tiredly, "I want you out.  Get out of my house."

Spike said nothing, nothing at all, picked up his jacket from the floor, then started up the staircase.  When he came back down with his bag, she was sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window.  Still, he said nothing, until he shut the front door behind him.

"Goodnight, my love," he whispered.  He picked up his bag and headed for the nearest bus stop.

The next evening, Spike was brooding in his loft over a glass of his private stock of "wine", and trying to think of a way to get Katherine to come back to him.

He sighed, unable to think, and pushed the glass away.  Everything around him reminded him of Katherine.  He'd tried sleeping, but the pillow smelled like her hair.  The TV stared at him mockingly, reminding him of how he'd once offered HBO to her.  The keys to his car lay on a table by the door, bringing back the memory of how she'd skipped out the door on the way to the Bronze, and he's followed to carry her to his car.

Jesus, but he had it bad.

Spike growled softly and climbed to his feet.  He finished his drink, then walked over to the door, picking up his keys.  Maybe he'd go beat up Willy the Snitch, or see if he could pick a fight with Angel.

A half hour later, Spike pulled up in front of the Bronze.  Willy wasn't in his bar, and he didn't feel much like fighting Angel, so he figured he'd try to find some neck and listen to music at the same time.

Walking in, Spike was relieved to see that Katherine wasn't onstage, but rather some unknown local group that actually sounded pretty good.  He recognized the boyfriend of one the Slayer's friends, Oz was his name, playing on the stage, but didn't bother to look around for the Slayer or her friends.  He found that he wasn't in the mood for fighting after all.

Spike sighed and sat at the bar, nodding at the female bartender in greeting.  The chick was a vamp herself, and knew just what to get him, but Spike ignored the glass as it was set in front of him and looked around the club.

There weren't many people there, which Spike thought was unfortunate until he remembered that it was a weekday, and most of the regulars were all staying home and getting their sleep.  Those that were in the club were mostly on the dance floor, swaying with the music.  Spike nodded at another vampire, sitting at a table with some humans, and took a sip of his drink.

A hand gripped his shoulder, tightly, and Spike looked over.

The Slayer stood there, a resigned look on her face, and was backed by three friends, her usual group.

"Alright, Spike, time to go.  I don't like to slay in public places, you know," she said, and pulled him away from the bar by his jacket.  He let himself be led outside, then turned to face her.

"What do you want?" he asked tiredly.  The Slayer shrugged.

"To finish this quickly and go home to do my homework.  Arms out; I don't want to miss."  She pulled a stake out from under her jacket.

Spike rolled his eyes, but held his arms out from his sides.  Might as well, he thought.

But the Slayer didn't move.  She frowned at him.

"What's wrong?  Did you forget that you're supposed to put up a fight?"  She lowered the arm that held the stake as her friends frowned at him as well.

Spike shook his head. "Just take the opportunity and finish it, will you?" he said, and raised his arms higher.

The Slayer shrugged to herself and raised her stake arm again.  Spike closed his eyes.

"Wait!" a voice shouted.

 Chapter 8

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