Title: You Think You Know What's To Come (Part II)
Author: Oracleholly
Rating: R
Characters: Spike/Buffy
Summary: Pre-BTVS, Spike has a nightmare….
Prompt Set #1
Prompt: 2- Nightmares
Word Count: 1159
Disclaimer: Joss, Fox, & ME all own, in their respective ways, these characters, I just like to play with them.
A/N: Nightmare *wink, wink* world in italics. Thank you to Spikeslovebite for betaing and the giving of advice.

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Spike found himself in a foreign room. From the smell and décor, it was obviously a mausoleum complete with cobwebs in the corners and dust everywhere. Something inside him told him that this wouldn't do. Eerily, that voice sounded like William, the ponce. Despite wanting to be able to tell his inner William to sod off, he found himself searching for what he needed to make the place presentable. He knew 'she' was coming. It had to be perfect for 'her'.

Pushing the lid off a stone slab, he uncovered a stash of Oriental rugs locked in the eternal, skeletal embrace of their previous owner. "You're not going to need these anymore. Thanks ever so," he told the skeleton as he removed the rugs. After diligently arranging them so that no part of the dirty floor was showing - it wouldn't do for her delicate feet to touch such filth - he searched for the appropriate lighting.

He found a trapdoor leading to a lower level of this crypt. How he had known where to look he didn't know. Parts of the crypt felt very familiar to him, even though he knew he'd never been there before. He wasn't even sure where 'here' was.

On the lower level he found a trunk full of vanilla candles. He normally wouldn't have chosen the vanilla scent, but he 'knew' it was 'her' scent. Carrying several candles at a time back to the upper level, he used his ever-present lighter to ignite each wick. The aroma pleased and soothed his demon. Soon, something told him.

As Spike saw the door begin to open, he retreated to the shadows in anticipation of seeing 'her.' A small slip of a girl stepped inside. She was young; her baby fat still remained in her cheeks, her arms and her thighs. But he could tell that once that melted with maturity, she would be a hell of a woman. His cock sprung to attention as his nostrils were filled with that enchanting scent that screamed 'Slayer.'

'His Slayer': that mantra kept echoing through his mind. She was wearing next to nothing, just a scrap of emerald green silk. He could tell that she hadn't sensed him, yet. Right as she was about to wrap her arms around herself, he spoke, "Don't hide yourself, luv. Let me look at you." He wanted to race to her right then. "Turn around for me, yeah?"

He fought to take out his cock and began stroking himself when she started to do as he commanded. Somehow knowing that she would turn too quickly to make it enjoyable, he ordered, "Slow-ly." His voice almost cracked when he saw her tremble at the sound of his voice. His demon needed to touch her, needed to feel her in his arms, wanted to taste her blood.

"Come to me, luv?"

He watched as she searched in vain for his location, so he moved with preternatural speed to the wall behind her. "Where are you? I can't find you." Her voice was melodious.

He approached her from behind and encircled his arms around her. "I'm right here, pet." Her firm ass was pressed against his erection, and then the little minx moved against it. He hissed at the feel… at the promise of her body.

Cupping her breasts roughly, he started to massage them. He smiled into her hair at how her nipples were so responsive; he longed to bite them. Like a cat, she arched back and more of her mounds were thrust into his hands.

He had to taste her. Sliding his face down the side of her head, he pressed his forehead against her cheek as he started licking the ivory column of her throat. She tasted of sunlight and daisies, of sugar and, strangely, of ice. His demon relished that this Slayer was not pushing him away… was actually inviting him to do more. He felt her thin but powerful fingers in his hair and cradling the back of his head.

He couldn't help it, he purred as his ridges caressed her cheek. And then she spun and he feared their dance might be over. He could see her eyes now - a glorious green that were more pronounced given her attire. He watched as she studied his face and then to his pleasure and surprise she traced her delicate fingers across his brow.

"Let me see you," she said.

"This is me, pet. I'm a big bad," he answered, trying to remind of that he really was a vampire - or was he trying to remind himself?

"No, you're not. I can tell. Show me." He focused on how her lower lip protruded in the cutest pout he'd ever seen. "Please?"

Shaking off his demon, he looked at her with his human face. To his relief, she looked happy. "There you are. There's my guy." He felt joy that he was 'her guy.'

"Let me see you, pet," Spike asked.

"This is me, silly. I'm just a girl."

"No, you're not, luv. Show me," Spike whispered as he claimed her succulent lower lip.

After a small moan, she stepped out of his arms. He immediately felt a pronounced sense of loss. "Alright," she answered. He hungrily watched as she moved to take off her shift.

As one strap fell and then another, he saw that her skin was covered with gray mud, as were her legs. Her glorious, golden hair immediately became a dirty blonde, braided into at least twenty knotted braids. Her face was not only adorned with the gray mud but also black charcoal encircling her eyes and lips giving her a feral appearance.

"There you are," Spike said and reached for her. "There's my girl. There's my Slayer!"

Spike awoke gasping for unneeded air. He looked around the room, and much to his relief, he realized that he was still in Prague. The familiar sight and sounds of the hotel room he shared with Drusilla welcomed him from his nightmare. He turned to his left and discovered his Drusilla fast asleep. He could tell by the filtered sunlight though the heavy drapes that it was early afternoon.

Spike caressed Drusilla's shoulder with affection; however, as his fingers touched her skin, his mind reeled with the thought … it's not her. It's not his Slayer.

He jumped out of bed quickly least Drusilla somehow sense his betrayal in her sleep. Stranger things have been known to happen with her. A century with his ripe, wicked plum had taught him caution sometimes really was the best policy.

He exited the bedroom and began pacing around the rest of their suite. The scent of vanilla halted his pacing, and he turned to find such a candle burning on a plate placed on the ottoman. Walking over to the candle, he picked it up and caught himself sniffing its delectable scent for a moment before coming to his senses and extinguishing it.

Bloody nightmare!