TITLE: "Dream or Nightmare?" 1/1
AUTHOR:Laure Alexander
EMAIL:lara@sunflower.com or laurealexander@hotmail.com
SPOILER:Grave, Last Angel episode of season 3
RATING:NC17
CONTENT WARNING:Non-consensual sex, brief whipping, slash, dream weirdness
SUMMARY:Set sometime before the start of Seasons 7/4, Angel's back, Spike's not. Angel's dreaming of Spike. Angel POV.
FEEDBACK:Please, please, please. No flames, please.
DISCLAIMER:I don't own Buffy and friends or Buffy theVampire Slayer; they're owned by Joss Whedon and Fox and thankfully UPN because we get nekkid Spike! No copyright infringement intended so please don't sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Kinda disjointed, but dreams are like that...


I know I'm dreaming because Spike is leaning over me, smiling at me in that sensuous way that used to melt my resolve and leave me a quivering mass of lust.

And my dreams for the last month have all revolved around my annoying blond childe to some extent or another, ever since I was rescued from the bottom of the ocean by my suddenly repentant son.

"Repentant son, that's what I am, peaches."

"Why do you keep showing up in my dreams, Spike?"

He props himself on the pillow on either side of my head and I realize we're both naked.

"Are you sure this is a dream?"

"Why on Earth would we be naked?"

Spike grins and slips one knee between my thighs, parting them easily. I feel my cock swell with sudden desire and he comes over me and kisses me.

"What's different about you?"

"Different?" He licks my lips, quick flicks of his tongue against me, and rubs against me like a cat. His cock is smooth and hard against my stomach, and the feel of it makes me groan. "We don't change, Angelus, remember?"

But we do, I want to protest. I've changed because of my soul. He's changed because of his chip, or so I've heard.

But, there's still something different about him, past whatever good he's done due to a bit of silicone and wire.

"You think too much."

His mouth is on me again, silky and cool, tasting of mint and tobacco and a hint of blood. The long familiar taste stirs me even more and I reach up to wrap my arms around him, rolling us so that I'm on top of him, pressing him into the soft mattress.

"I never get to be on top," Spike pouts.

I arch an eyebrow and grin wolfishly down at him. "Remember your place, my boy."

He mockingly sighs and wraps his legs around my hips. Catching his ankles, I pull them higher, over my shoulders.

"I feel like such a girl," he complains, put upon, but his wiggles are driven purely by desire, and his hands rolling down my chest and arms definitely belong to a male. Strong, slender fingers, the pads slightly roughened, the nails clipped evenly.

He no longer paints them.

An odd thing to notice as I push inside him and both of us groan.

Damn, I've forgotten how tight he always is. He was a virgin when I turned him and his body always heals back to that state.

He never minds the pain, though.

And the tightness, the way his ring of muscles clamps around my cock, makes me want to howl. The pleasure is so intense, I feel my eyes cross and my toes curl.

"Just like the first time, luv," Spike murmurs, moving his hips up to meet my hard thrusts. "You taught me how pain can be pleasure, how to give and receive both."

"And he, in turn, taught them to me," comes a soft and familiar voice from beside me.

Startled, I stop in mid-thrust and swivel my head around. "Buffy?"

She kneels on the bed wearing only a diaphanous ice blue gown, her blonde hair curling around her shoulders, her eyes full of light that belies her somber statement.

"Hallo, luv," Spike says while his hands creep down my sides to squeeze my ass.

If I could blush, I'd be bright red. This is a side of myself I never wanted her to see.

"You look good with your heels over your head, Spike." Buffy playfully squeezes one of his big toes.

Spike groans. "Not as good as you, pet."

"Well, my tits do jiggle more than yours."

"My dick jiggles," he retorts, sticking out his tongue at her. She giggles and flicks his hard cock with her finger.

Listening to their playful, oddly sexual banter, I falter in my strokes and pull out of Spike.

Buffy frowns and her little fingers wrap around the slick head of my cock. "Don't stop," she pouts and I groan, helpless at her touch. "He needs a good buggering, don't you, Spike."

"Nothing better." Spike's hands pull at my ass, and together they force my cock back inside him. "That's right, luv. Do me hard."

"...Buffy?" I give her a hesitant, embarrassed look, and she smiles benignly, her fingers still wrapped around the base of my dick.

"Make him pay for his trespasses."

A wave of cold washes over me as their teasing comments finally begin to makes sense. Outside of knowing that everyone in Sunnydale is alive and well, I've avoided the details.

But, there's one detail I can't ignore anymore.

Buffy and Spike are sleeping together.

A red haze of fury fills my brain and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to wake up. When I open them, the scene has changed.

Buffy's kneeling at my feet, her eyes bright with need and love, and, as I gape down at her, she takes my cock in her mouth and down her throat.

I didn't teach her this.

With a howl, my control shatters and I lash out with the whip in my hand, slicing the leather across the back of the vampire chained face first to the stone wall. Spike's back bows in agony, but he doesn't cry out, just accepts the whipping as just punishment.

As my beloved deep throats me, her muscles squeezing the tip of my cock until my eyes cross, I beat the shit out of my childe until his back is a red ruin of blood and gore.

With the final lash, Spike arches his head and screams, and I come, pumping my lust down Buffy's eager throat. Panting from anger and release, I shove her aside and stalk to my childe. My fingers wrap in his hair, and suddenly the chains are gone and I'm able to drag his mewling carcass to a convenient table. Tossing him over it, I kick his trembling legs apart and shove my still hard cock inside him.

He tears. He howls. I laugh and thrust mercilessly.

"You dare touch what's mine, boy?"

"I'm sorry, sire, truly sorry," Spike begs.

And we're whisked back in time.

The room is lit by candles, the bed is draped in heavy brocade curtains, and William kneels on the down mattress, braced on his shoulders, his legs spread. His trembling fingers hold himself open as I callously shove the haft of the whip I've been using on
him into his reddened and torn hole.

"I'm sorry, sire, truly sorry," he sobs.

"Oh, I'm certain you are, boyo. That was a prime piece of horseflesh you carelessly rode into the ground. Have I been remiss in teaching you to keep your hands off my possessions?"

"No, sire, no, 'tis all my fault."

"And that is why you are being punished." I screw the whip in deeper and he howls in agony. "What a pretty tail it makes," I croon, releasing the whip and stroking myself through my breeches. "Come, William, I have need of your lovely mouth."

As I settle in a chair by the fire, I watch with delight as my child crawls painfully from the bed, tears sparkling on his pale cheeks.

He is so lovely.

I hope he gives me reason to punish him at least once a week for the rest of eternity.

"You never learn," I growl, pounding him into the table, the blood on his back smearing across my chest. Spike mewls in pain.

"You don't want him to learn," Buffy whispers in my ear as she props her elbows on the table and avidly watches my cock sawing into Spike. "Think how boring it would be if he stopped defying you."

"How could you let him touch you?" I howl, disgust and dismay warring inside me. Reaching forward I clasp narrow shoulders and realize in horror that I'm now fucking Buffy's ass.

And, like Spike, she's becoming aroused by the punishing thrusts. I desperately try to pull out of her, but her muscles clamp around me, pinning me to her.

"She likes it," Spike murmurs as he hops up on the table beside Buffy's squirming body, not a sign of the beating on him. "I taught her to relish a good butt fuck. She's good at returning the favor, too. I got her this strap-on..."

Unable to take another word from him, I lash out and knock him from the table.

Sprawled on the floor, his lip cut and bleeding, Spike laughs. "You're pathetic, old man. You can't have her, but you freak out when anyone else does."

"Not anyone else," I reply through clenched teeth. "Just a monster like you."

Spike sobers up immediately and Buffy disappears, leaving us back in my bedroom, standing nude on opposite sides of the bed.

"She deserves better than a monster," Spike says, and the carpet beneath my feet shifts to sand and back again.

Spike looks away from the bed, towards the bathroom, and slowly I move towards that room.

It's not my bathroom, though, but another, and in it Buffy struggles on the floor, whimpering in pain and fear, as my black-clad childe rips at her robe and thrusts his knee between her thighs. Horror fills me as I realize what he's doing, but there's a barrier over the door and I can't get in to save her.

"She saved herself, mate."

I watch as Buffy kicks Spike off of her and pulls herself to her feet, lashing out verbally at him, as he stares in growing horror at what he nearly did.

"Couldn't stand that I'd nearly done that to her. Rape was never my thing," he says bitterly. "Knew I was a monster, then, not fit for her." He turns tear-filled eyes on me and my heart clenches in my chest. "But, I love her."

He does. Oh god, it's so clear. Spike--William was always full of love. And Buffy...I know full well how she can inspire the worst monster to pure devotion.

"What did you do, Spike?" There's something different about him. Something...familiar.

He shrugs and the bathroom door shuts, leaving the two of us alone in my room. "She couldn't love a monster, right? Couldn't care for a soulless creature. Had to make it right. Had to give her what she deserved."

His face crumbles and he sinks to his haunches, his whole body trembling. "Didn't expect it to hurt so much."

As the truth dawns on me, I draw in a ragged breath. "You have a soul."

Spike fades away and the room goes dark.

I open my eyes.

"Spike has a soul," I mutter in wonder.

"Who has a what?" the caustic voice of my lover sounds from beside me, grumpy at having been awakened.

I have to find him. I can't believe the idiot's gone and done that. I...

"How dare he touch Buffy," I yell, sitting bolt upright in bed, righteous indignation filling me as the dream images return in full color surround sound.

Cordelia's hand smacks across my chest. "You dumped her, remember?" She sits up and runs a hand through her tousled hair as she glowers at me.

"Buffy, Spike," I begin weakly.

She snorts. "So, her taste in men went down the toilet, still not your business."

"Evil vampire," I try again.

Cordelia just laughs and slips from the bed. "Who better to handle an evil vampire than the vampire slayer? And if he's half as good in bed as you are..."

I feel my face screwing up in disgust. "There is no comparison."

She throws me a skeptical look before flinging open the closet door. "Uh huh. Though you'd be the one to know, right? Or was that a fantasy rather than memory that you babbled half the night of screwing Spike into any surface you could find?"

Groaning in embarrassment and frustration, I yank the covers over my head and sink into my pillow.

Still...I have to find him.

Whether it's to help him deal with his new soul or pound him into the ground...well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

I can't believe the idiot went and did that.

What we'll do for love...

End

Please Send Feedback

Return To Fic Index