She had dreamed about him the night she first met him.

Nothing like that, no.

She had been terrified of him at first. He had scared her on a level that no other vampire had managed to do at that point in her life. It wasn't the death threat - she'd gotten pretty used to those. Someone seemed to want her six feet under on a weekly basis, so this new guy blowing into town, all leather and cigarette smoke and punk rock, telling her he was going to kill her … that wasn't anything new.

It was something about the way he'd looked at her … like he could see her, all the way inside her, where no one else could even get close. Like he knew just where she lived, and just how to bury himself there.

In that first dream, they'd been in a burning room … it looked like a church. Flames licked up the walls as they fought - or were they dancing? It was hard to tell the difference with this one. She hadn't seen him out of "game face" at that point, but he'd gotten close to her, and she'd seen the blue of his eyes, and then he'd bitten her and drank from her so deeply that she could feel the blood leaving her body, she could feel when she was empty, and then he ripped her heart out, laughing a gleefully evil laugh the whole time.

It hadn't hurt a bit.

She hadn't even bothered telling anyone about that dream, though, because she didn't think it meant anything. She had dreams about vampires who threatened to kill her all the time - they weren't all prophetic or anything. They'd threaten, she'd have wonky dreams, she'd slay, they'd be dust … thus was the life of a Slayer.

After Parent Teacher Night had come and gone, she'd been blissfully free of him - both in and out of her dreams. At least for awhile. The next time she dealt with him had been during the whole Career Week debacle - that had also been the first time she'd seen him wearing his human face.

He was easier to deal with as a demon. She didn't know if she'd ever get used to these evil, bloodsucking fiends with stunningly beautiful faces. Spike was even handsomer than Angel, and she hadn't been sure that was even possible.

The fact that his eyes were as blue as they'd been in her dream had startled her so much that she'd momentarily lost her concentration and he and that psycho hell-bitch girlfriend of his had very nearly gotten away without a scratch. In the end, though, she'd scratched him up pretty good - something about a wheelchair? For months? Oh, don't think she hadn't teased him about that, later.

But even after her thorough kicking of his ass, he still wouldn't stay gone, he wouldn't stay out of her life. It seemed like he was deliberately trying to put himself there, to her. He wanted to save the world, he wanted to get Drusilla back, he wanted that goddamn Gem of Camera or whatever the hell it was called, the Initiative put a chip in his brain … no matter what happened to him, it always seemed to result in him showing back up at her door.

Not literally at her door, just, you know. Around. In her town. Visible to her. Enough to be a nuisance. An all the time, never goes away, gets more obnoxious by the hour kinda nuisance. The kind of nuisance that caused him to have cameos in her dreams almost nightly after awhile, and it was irritating, all her nice dreams ruined by the stupid bleach-blond butthead who just wouldn't go away.

It was around Christmas her freshman year at UC Sunnydale, the year he'd gotten his shiny new brain-frying chip, that he'd been promoted to leading man in her dreams. Romantic leading man.

She blamed Willow's stupid spell, entirely.

The first time she dreamed about him like that … they were in the same church that she remembered from her very first dream about him, but it was empty this time, quiet. No fire, just a soft, bluish glow that seemed to give the whole area an ethereal glow. There was nothing but a cross in the middle of the room.

His shirt had been off, she could see it tossed in the corner, and while normally, in such a dream, she might be enjoying the view of such a well-muscled specimen in front of her … in this dream, she was crying. Not just crying, sobbing, tears running down her face as she watched him walk away from her.

He had crossed the room and draped himself upon the cross, smoke billowing up everywhere his flesh touched it. She had gone to him and pulled him away from the cross, just in time for the walls around them to start crumbling and caving in around them. He'd had his vamp face on, but she'd kissed him and it had gone away, and the floor fell out from underneath them, and the building came crashing down all around them as his fingers and his lips and his mouth brought her to completion, as she undid the buckle of his jeans and guided him into her …

Years later, that dream made perfect sense, but at the time it had been so weird, so unwanted. It wasn't right, not even dream Spike should be able to take such liberties with her. And what right did he have, being all … in her dreams and being the best sex she'd ever had? She'd considered staking him the next time she saw him. You know, on principle.

She had considered telling him about that dream, once. The night before the battle with the First as she had lay beside him in the basement, she had almost told him, how she'd dreamed of all of it … everything they were going to go through, but something stopped her. Instead, she had sighed and snuggled herself closer to him. "Remind me to tell you about a dream I had about you, after the battle's over," she told him, yawning.

His hand had been tracing lazy patterns up and down her arm, but it stopped when she spoke. "Why not tell me now, luv?"

She'd smiled up at him, her eyes heavy with sleep. "Incentive," she murmured. "Trust me, you definitely want to hear this … so you can't die tomorrow."

"Not planning on it, pet." He'd chuckled then, and the sound had reverberated in his chest where her head was resting. "That good, then, is it?"

"Mmm, better," she'd teased, her eyes glinting mischievously. "I could probably give you a little preview."

He'd leaned down to kiss her then, and there hadn't been time for dreaming that night. The next time Buffy dreamed at all was a week after the Battle … after he was gone.

She had the same dream she'd had the night they'd met. The burning room, the dance … but this time, as he got close, his vamp face disappeared, and all she saw was William, and there were tears in his eyes. He kissed her then, fiercely, and then he ripped out her heart, sobbing the whole time.

And it hurt like hell.