The Alone Series - Alone With You

By Spikeskat

Chapter 1

Spike turned as he watched Willie burst in through the double doors leading into the main sanctum of the church.

“Are you tripping?! You bring her here? Now?” he roared as he came down from the altar and walked towards the small group surrounding the blonde Slayer.

“You said you wanted her,” Willie whined.

“In the ground, pinhead. I wanted her dead,” he growled, his fangs mere inches from the bartender’s face.

“Now, that’s not what I heard. Word was there was a bounty on her, dead or alive.”

“You heard wrong, Willy.” His amber gaze narrowed on the idiot that had brought the Slayer to him – right when he was trying to finish his revitalization spell.

“Angel?” Buffy whispered, horrified at seeing both him and Drusilla lashed together and suspended from the church ceiling, their arms held clasped together by the knife imbedded in both of their hands.

Spike turned away from contemplating the bartender’s death to reply snarkily, “Yeah, it bugs me, too, seeing them like that. Another five minutes though, and Angel will be dead, so…I forebear. Don’t feel bad for Angel, though, he’s got something you don’t have.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her face scrunching in a sneer.

“Five minutes.”

Spike’s gaze shifted to the red-haired woman from the Order of Taraka.

“Patrice.”

The woman needed no further urging, quickly shoving the Slayer into the waiting arms of the minion standing next to her. Reaching into her holster, she extracted a pistol, prepared to finish her contractual obligation and kill the Slayer.

Before the assassin had a chance to make good on her threat, a commotion sounded behind the group, and suddenly the two minions standing in back of the woman were kicked aside; as everyone tumbled forward, the Slayer was able to jerk free from their grasp.

Buffy quickly regrouped and both she and Kendra stood before Spike as he managed to regain his footing.

“Who the hell is this?”

Kendra grabbed Spike by the lapels of his leather duster.

“It’s your lucky day, Spike,” Buffy announced from beside the girl, the sarcasm dripping from her voice like honey.

“Two Slayers,” Kendra added, just before she punched him. The power of her left cross sent the vampire’s head snapping to the side.

“No waiting,” Buffy finished, delivering a sharp right jab to Spike’s nose sending him to the floor. Then, she turned and confronted the red-haired woman decked out in police garb, leaving Kendra to deal with Spike.

Buffy mentally prepared herself when the woman held her arms away from her body, allowing two deadly blades to extend from their hiding place in her police jacket. The two combatants eyed each other, assessing possible battle scenarios as a vampire slowly gained his feet near them. Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and watched as a bow protruded from the front of his chest where his heart lay, moments before turning to dust.

The cavalry had arrived.

Just then, the woman attacked. One hand followed the other as she attempted to gut her target. Buffy blocked each attack, grabbing first one arm then the other, then delivered a knee to the woman’s stomach, following in quick succession with a swift kick that sent the woman flying back against the far wall.

~*~

On the other side of the room, Kendra was engaged in a fierce battle with Spike. The two traded blows back and forth, neither able to gain the upper hand.

Unfortunately, Kendra was getting winded.

~*~

Buffy easily sent the woman reeling into the wall over and over again as she repeatedly tried to charge the Slayer. Behind her, she could sense Kendra weakening, could hear Spike taunt the girl as his blows continued to connect with the other Slayer.

Shoving the redheaded woman against the wall once more, she turned and called out, “Switch.”

Kendra needed no further urgings. Rolling over her sister Slayer’s back and confronting the female assassin, she delivered a kick to the woman that sent her hurtling into the wall behind her yet again.

~*~

Once Kendra had cleared her back, Buffy stood and confronted Spike, arms poised before her in a defensive stance.

“I’d rather be fighting you anyway,” Spike announced, his gaze narrowing on the blonde Slayer who now stood before him.

“Mutual.”

Spike moved to attack, but Buffy sent him reeling with a front kick to the face followed by a roundhouse to his stomach. It didn’t stop him for long, and he rushed towards her, fists flying in a blur of motion that the Slayer was just barely able to block. Then, she faltered and Spike was able to deliver a jarring punch to her stomach momentarily knocking the wind from her.

She recovered and delivered a punch that snapped his head back, followed by a quick backhanded blow to the face using the same hand. Grabbing the front of his jacket, she twirled him around her to gain momentum, before launching the vampire into the wall halfway across the room behind her.

Spike slammed into the wall and crumpled to the ground. He recovered quickly, a growl emanating from his chest. Turning, he caught sight of the traitorous bartender and moved to intercept his escape. He was just about to bite the git when he noticed the Slayer trying to pull Angel down from his tether.

He rushed after her, throwing her away from the pair before she was able to get his grandsire free. As she started to rise, he backhanded her, sending her to the floor once more.

~*~

Across the room, Kendra went flying over a pew. Her attacker vaulted over it, swinging her arms in an attempt to draw blood. This Slayer wasn’t on her current contract, but she didn’t think the Order would mind too much.

Finally, her blade managed to connect with the dark-skinned girl’s arms, tearing her sleeve and leaving a horizontal slash across her upper arm.

“That’s me favorite shirt,” Kendra bellowed, anger rising in her voice as she took in the ruined item. “That’s me only shirt.”

Furious, Kendra kicked the woman in the back of the leg then grabbed the front of her coat and threw her into a support beam. She struggled to her feet, kicking the debris off of her as she lunged at the Slayer.

Kendra was waiting for the attack; as the woman launched herself at her, she used the woman’s momentum to fling her across the room behind her. Unfortunately, Kendra didn’t see where she was throwing the woman.

The red-haired assassin’s arms flailed wide as she soared through the air towards the bound vampires. Since the vampiress was slumped backwards, her back almost parallel to the floor, Patricia sailed between the two instead of into the pair as they dangled in the air. She tried to bring her arms together in front of her in an attempt to break her headlong rush into the far wall that was rapidly approaching. By some cruel twist of fate, the blades that extended from her arms sliced through the necks of the two dangling vampires as she attempted to brace herself for impact. The sound of her slamming into the wall prevented her from hearing the two demons crumble to dust behind her.

It didn’t prevent her from hearing the simultaneous bellows of rage behind her.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy had just regained her footing when she saw the pseudo-cop fly through the air towards where Angel and Drusilla dangled from their tethers. She ignored Spike as he moved to strike her again, instead remaining transfixed on the scene playing out in slow motion behind her. Her horror must have been evident on her face, because suddenly Spike stopped mid-attack to see what had happened to cause the Slayer to ignore him completely.

He turned just in time to watch the Order’s female assassin sail between the two.

“Dru?” he managed to whisper. Vaguely, he thought her heard the Slayer behind him mumble Angel’s name.

Then his world fell apart. He watched at the woman crashed into the wall moments before his sire and grandsire crumbled to dust.

“Drusilla!”

“Angel!”

The two cried out at the same time, staring aghast at the empty dangling ropes.

Buffy was the first to react, practically vaulting over Spike to reach the spot where Angel once hung. Spike wasn’t that far behind her. The two stared down at the twin piles of dust on the raised, red platform. Neither acknowledged the other, both overcome by grief that quickly turned to a burning rage.

Their heads popped up, fixated on the moan emanating from the woman as she struggled to her feet. Twin pairs of eyes narrowed on the woman leaning heavily on the wall behind her, her labored breathing coming in shuddering gasps.

A low growl sounded near her, and the assassin looked up in time to see the peroxide-blond vampire leap at her.

Furious beyond belief, Spike grabbed the woman by her throat and used one hand to dangle her in the air.

“You killed my Dark Princess, you bloody bitch!” he raged and he slowly squeezed her neck, crushing her windpipe.

Buffy watched Spike as he slowly choked the life from the human, and she couldn’t seem to make herself care. If he hadn’t done it, she was sure that the redheaded bitch would have become her first human kill. Not that she really thought of the woman as human…no, she was a member of the Order of Taraka, and that made her fair game.

She glanced back down at the two identical piles of dust. She couldn’t just leave them there like that. It just didn’t seem right. Turning away, she let her eyes roam over the dilapidated church, trying to find something to put the ashes in, and encountered the stunned faces of the Scoobies as they stood on the far side of steadily growing fire that had created a wall between them. She figured she had another five minutes at most before the blaze engulfed the entire church, so she pushed herself into action.

Shouting for the others to leave and that she’d catch up with them later, Buffy turned to find something to hold the two sets of ashes. Even in her pain, she wouldn’t be so cruel as to grab Angel’s and not Drusilla’s. Her eyes finally lighted on two small, metal containers, and she hurried back to the piles as she watched the flames slowly work their way up the side of one wall.

Squatting down on the steps, she carefully brushed first one and then the other mound of dust into the two separate containers. Finished, she glanced up to see Spike still dangling the helpless woman from his raised arm. He obviously had every intention of taking his time killing her, but unfortunately, time wasn’t on their side.

“Spike?”

“Spike!”

His head swiveled at her shout, his amber gaze narrowing on her face. He just now seemed to realize the blaze erupting behind him.

“We’ve got to get out of here. This place is going to go up any minute now. Kill her and let’s go.”

Her words shocked him, causing him to gape at her in astonishment. Then, a reluctant half-smile played across his lips and he turned back to the woman he still held suspended in the air.

“You heard the lady. Time to die.”

He let her slide down so her feet were barely touching the ground. In a practiced move, he brought his other hand up to her head, and with a quick twist he broke her neck, allowing her limp body to fall to the ground. He gazed down at her for a moment before he turned towards the Slayer.

“The side exit! Hurry!” she called, grabbing the two containers and making a mad dash for the door. Spike was right behind her, leery of the flames licking close to their heels.

The two burst through the door and into the night. Buffy stopped to pull in great gulps of fresh air, her body bent over the two containers held protectively in her grasp.

Spike just watched her while she coughed repeatedly from all the smoke-filled air she had inhaled. He made no move to attack her; they’d seemed to bond in that moment of their heartbreaking loss. And, he couldn’t help the grin that came to his face has he recalled her shout for him to kill the woman already. He had to wonder what her watcher would say about that.

Honoring their unspoken truce, he turned to walk away, leaving the Slayer to make her way back to her friends. They could always resume their fight tomorrow. Besides, he needed to lick his wounds in the aftermath of his sire’s dusting.

Then he heard her voice softly call his name. He glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

“A truce, Slayer. Just for tonight. It won’t ever happen again.”

He started to walk off again into the night, but she called his name again…this time a little louder as the fresh air started to fill her lungs.

He stopped where he was, gazing off into the distance.

“Here.”

Spike turned and saw the Slayer carrying two containers, one held outstretched in her arm. The blaze, as it enveloped the church, illuminated her face, and he saw the telltale signs of her tears as they slipped unheeded down her face. He knew how she felt, and when he was alone, he’d probably give in to the emotions already evident on her features. His gaze slid from her face to take in the box she held out to him.

She didn’t say anything. Just waited. When he still made no move to take it, she realized that he probably didn’t know what it was. He’d been so intent on killed the person that had murdered Angel and Drusilla, he didn’t notice as she’d scooped their ashes into the containers.

His blue eyes shifted from the container back to her face. She was trying desperately not to break down completely, as if saying anything would make it more real, more final. She started forward, closing the distance between them.

“It’s…” she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. “It’s…Dru.”

Spike stared down at the box she had suddenly thrust into his hands. His eyes were fixated on the container as the Slayer turned and walked away. The tears he’d held at bay glimmered in his eyes; the realization that his sire was no more, her remains lying nestled within the confines of the box held dearly in his hands ripped violently through his body. In that brief moment, the Big Bad persona was gone. In his place stood the lost soul of William, beaten and broken by the society of long ago.

He didn’t know what to say. He’d been so busy seeking his revenge, he’d never stopped to think about the pile of ashes his sire had become. But, the Slayer had. She’d not only scooped up her lost love’s, she taken a moment to grab her mortal enemy's. He was at a loss. That the Slayer would show that type of compassion…

Words just escaped him.

In the end, he just whispered a soft thank you to her retreating back. Watched as she paused momentarily in her tracks before giving him a sharp nod and then resumed her pace.

Spike, too, turned and made his way into the night.


Chapter 2

Buffy wandered aimlessly throughout the remainder of the night, not wanting to meet up with her friends and see their looks of forced compassion. She thought about going home, but didn’t want to have to deal with her mother right now…or... Wait! Her mom was out of town. But, she still didn’t want to go home alone. Instead, she walked listlessly through the darkened streets, uncaring about anything.

She wasn’t surprised when she found herself standing at the front door to Angel’s apartment. It was here, after all, that she felt his presence the most. Sighing with resignation, she twisted the knob and opened the door. A brief smile flitted across her features when she noticed that it turned easily. Apparently, no one wanted to steal from the undead.

She walked inside then turned to close the door behind her. The Slayer leaned against it for a moment, her forehead resting wearily against the unyielding wood, refusing to turn around and glance at his things. Buffy held the container tightly to her chest as tears of anguish slipped unheeded down her cheeks. Finally, she pushed herself away from the door and flicked on the light switch. She turned and glanced about the room, her eyes taking in his belongings.

Everything was as she had left it earlier. Papers were scattered on his desk off to the left, his chair pulled out like he had found out something important, stood up hurriedly, and left. Her booted feet clicked softly on the hard flooring as she moved further into the room. She ran her hand lovingly along the arm of his couch, making her way towards his bed. Nothing had changed here either. The covers were still thrown back from when she had awoken earlier, dazed and wondering why he hadn’t returned home.

Buffy lay down on the bed, curling into a tight ball as she cradled the box holding Angel’s remains close to her side. Feeling somewhat safe, she allowed her grief to overtake her and she poured out her heart into the pillow as she lay in his bed. Sobs wracked her body and she cried for what seemed like hours before finally falling into an exhausted slumber.

~*~

She walked barefoot along the beach, her blonde hair and red sundress blowing softly in the wind. Eyes closed, she lifted her face to the breaking dawn, allowing the peace of the setting to envelop her. She felt strong arms slip around her waist, pulling her back against a hard frame. Her own hands slid down to wrap over his as he held her close.

His face leaned down over her shoulder, and she turned to see his dark features.

Her hand lifted to caress his cheek as she asked softly, “How did you find me here?”

“If I was blind I would see you.”

She smiled softly at his fervently whispered promise, snuggling closer to him.

“Stay with me?”

“Forever…That’s the whole point. I’ll never leave.”

Her eyes flew open as she was startled awake, pulled from her dream by some unknown noise…or sixth sense. It wasn’t a vampire. No, this was something else. She lay there on the bed unmoving, her breathing deep and even as if she still slumbered.

She didn’t have long to wait before the battle cry reached her ears – his mistake – and she rolled to the far side of the bed just before the two axes imbedded deep in the mattress where her body once lay. A quick kick by her forced the attacker to release the weapons that remained stuck in the bed and he went flying out into the main living area. Holding tight to Angel’s container, she vaulted off the bed and raced towards the door and out into the night.

Apparently, the Order of Taraka hadn’t given up on her yet. She was going to have to have a word with Spike and get him to call off his goon squad.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike looked at the container that held his sire’s ashes. He was still in shock that the Slayer had done it…had given him some small piece of Dru. He made his way through the various cemeteries of Sunnyhell trying to find someplace to crash for the night. He didn’t want to go back to the factory, see all the reminders of his dark princess: the frilly dresses she wore, her dolls, the empty birdcage. He needed some place where he could think…and grieve. For even though he was evil, he’d loved his Dark Princess. His sire.

He finally came to a stop in front of a crypt, his eyes lifted to take in the name etched in the stone. Le Morte. How appropriate. He pushed his way inside, his sick sense of humor caused him to laugh at the name. Death, indeed, was the place he wanted to be tonight.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat inside the crypt staring down at the container gripped tightly in his hands. His jaw worked and he allowed his rage to consume him. He was alone. Drusilla. Angelus. Darla. The Master. They were all gone, leaving him the head of Aurelius. He smirked at that. The head of one. The once great Aurelius line was now reduced to a lone master. Oh, he was sure there were others in the line floating around the various continents, probably even some other masters that he was unaware of. But, he was the direct descendent of the master's favored childe…not that it mattered anymore.

His eyes narrowed as a sudden thought came to him. He’d make it matter. Make the Order regret ever killing his sire. He’d rebuild the Aurelius Empire and take on the Order of Taraka himself.

Spike cocked his head to the side as he sniffed the air. Someone, or something, was trying to sneak up on him. Well, weren’t they in for a bit of a surprise…

He placed the container holding Dru’s ashes behind the sarcophagus and listened as the crypt door creaked open. The person was obviously human…yet, there was no trace of fear that he could smell. That had him slightly confused. What human would be out in the early hours of dawn and not have a trace of fear running through them? For a moment, he thought it might be the Slayer, but his vampiric senses didn’t detect anything.

Shrugging, unconcerned, he waited for the human to make his presence known.

His eyes widened when he heard the crypt door shut behind the human. Brave git, wasn’t he? Faint sounds of metal clinking could be heard as barely-there footsteps moved about the open space and Spike’s brow drew down in a frown before he suddenly figured out what it belonged to... right about the time he smelled the gas.

Bloody hell!

Peeking his head over the sarcophagus, he cursed under his breath as his suspicions were confirmed. Swathed from head to toe in black, a silver canister strapped to his back, stood a huge behemoth of a man. The ring on his left hand gleamed against his dark skin as the man scanned the surroundings for his quarry.

Bloody buggerin’ hell! The bastard had a flamethrower!

He needed to get out of there. Vampires and flames did NOT go together. Decision made, he waiting until the git had walked further into the crypt, away from the sarcophagus he was crouched behind. Grabbing Dru’s container, he made a mad dash for the crypt door. He managed to pull it open, scramble through the opening, and slam it shut before the whoosh of the flamethrower resounded in his ears – the flames slamming harmlessly into the steel door.

He needed to get out of there, and fast. Spike had no destination in mind as he took off running deeper into the cemetery, determined to put as much distance between himself and his would-be stalker. It was probably better that way. By picking a random destination, someplace he’d never been before, whoever it was that wanted him dust would have no way of pinpointing his location.

Spike was so deep in thought that he never heard the footsteps on a collision course with his. Never felt the vampiric senses that were screaming “Slayer” in bold letters until she slammed into him.

“Bloody hell,” he roared when the Slayer crashed into him like a rock, momentarily unbalancing him.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled, after she made sure the container she carried wasn’t disrupted in their bone-crushing collision. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the same thing of you, Slayer.”

Her eyes narrowed on him at his flippant response. Anger. Anger was good; it took her mind away from her heart wrenching loss.

“I…uh…it’s no business of yours what I’m doing. And where are you off to in such an all-fired hurry?”

“Just putting a little distance between me and the giant back there.”

“Giant?”

“Yeah, some bloody wanker that thinks the Big Bad would make great target practice…and with a bloody flamethrower, no less. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be shoving off.”

“Wait! Before you go…you need to call off the Order.” She watched as he turned around, a puzzled look on his face. “I think it’s the least you could do…”

That’s when the light bulb went off in his brain. The ring. The bloody ring! Looks like he’d just been placed on the Order’s hit list. Great! This was just what he needed.

“I wish I could, Slayer.” He cut her off before she could shout her protestations from her opened mouth.

“I think yours truly just got added to that list.”

“Crap.” She moved and sat upon a headstone as she contemplated the downhill spiral her life had suddenly become.

“In a word, yeah.”

Spike leaned against a tree and watched as the Slayer seemed to deflate before his eyes. His head whipped around at the sound of footsteps coming towards them. Apparently, he hadn’t backtracked enough. He pushed himself away from the tree and crossed to the Slayer. Slipping a hand underneath her arm, he hauled her to her feet.

“Come on, Slayer, we’ve gotta get outta here. He’s tracked me. And, I don’t think he’s gonna be too particular if he comes across you first.”

“Huh?”

“Behemoth. Flamethrower. Ringin’ any bells?” Not waiting for her mind to hear what he was saying, he hauled her after him, not letting go until she matched his pace.

“We need someplace to hide…and quick. Someplace no one would think to look for you, or me, for that matter. Sun’s gonna be up soon, and as much as it pains me to say it…the two of us together are much better odds than us going it alone right now.”

“What are you saying? That we form a truce?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Slayer. And, apparently, you’re all I’ve got right now, too.”

“Alright. Just for today. Come dusk, you’re on your own. Giles will figure out a way to stop them…”

“You don’t get it! They’re never going to stop. They’ll keep coming and coming, until the job is done.” The two continued to run side by side, their gaze scanning over the area for possible hiding places. They’d managed to run back into town and still couldn’t think of a place where they could go and be safe. And dawn was quickly approaching…

“I think we should hit the sewers.” Buffy couldn’t believe the words she’d just uttered.

The two had come to a stop in deserted, downtown Sunnydale. The idea had come to her as she’d gazed across the street and glanced at the gutter.

Spike had to agree with her logic, and he found a reluctant smile cross his features.

“Right! They’ll provide us a means to move around and not allow us to get pinned in one place. Slayer, I like the way you think. I know of a couple different hideaways. We can spend a few hours in each place and take turns resting.”

Spike grabbed her free hand and hauled her towards the nearest access. His demon was hollering at him to get indoors, and quick. She didn’t say anything, just raced after him towards the entrance. Crouching by the manhole, he handed her his box, and easily lifted the lid back, exposing the dark, watery tunnels below.

“Gimme those and get down the stairs. I’ll drop them down to you once you’ve reached the bottom.”

Buffy nodded, handing him her container. She flew down the stairs and easily caught the metal boxes when Spike dropped them down to her. Watched as he came down the first few rungs before pulling the lid over top of him. She wasn’t surprised to see his game face when he descended the last few steps. It was dark down in the tunnels, and he’d need his enhanced vision to guide them until the sun was able to provide some feeble form of lighting.

She didn’t even protest when he took one of the containers from her, using his other to grasp her free hand in his. After all that had happened recently, holding hands with a killer didn’t seem the least bit strange.


Chapter 3

They spent the daylight hours constantly on the move. Occasionally, the two would stop and rest, spending no more than two hours in one spot – one hour for him to sleep, the other hour for her to sleep.

Buffy hadn’t offered any protest when Spike stated that he would take the first watch upon reaching his first hideaway. She’d just lain down on the cold floor – her back against the wall to guard against a sneak attack – held Angel’s ashes clutched tightly in her hands and closed her eyes, almost instantly asleep.

Spike had to hand it to the Slayer. She had grit. He was surprised she hadn’t balked when he’d told her that he’d be the one to stand guard first. He’d been prepared for her argument. Instead, she’d blithely done as he’d suggested and gone right to sleep. If he wasn’t so worried about being a target of the Order, he just might be offended at her lack of fear in his presence.

He sat beside her and watched her as she slept. He knew she was sleeping too, her deep breathing and slowed heart rate a clear indication of her slumber. He marveled at all she’d endured, continued to endure, in her stint as a Slayer. The first time he’d seen her he’d been awed by her grace as she’d danced. He was no less amazed now. Even if she was the enemy.

Instead of being curled up in her nice, warm bed, she was sleeping in a dank alcove in the city’s sewer system, a deadly vampire her temporary guardian. And, she’d done it all with a minimum of fuss.

He inched his body closer towards her head, and lifted it so that he could slide his legs under her and provide her with some type of pillow. Spike wasn’t sure why he did it, but the thought of seeing the Slayer huddled on the cold, damp floor just didn’t sit well with him. She was a predator, a killer of his kind…she didn’t deserve to be treated like a stray dog, seeking shelter in the least likely of places.

He reached down to tuck a stray lock of her sun-kissed hair behind her ear before moving it to rest on her shoulder. His other arm cradled the container of Dru’s ashes. In the end, he gave her thirty of his allotted minutes. She’d seemed so exhausted, and his body could handle going for longer periods without sleep.

Buffy came awake, pulled from her restful sleep, when she felt her shoulder being shaken, her name…well, Spike’s name for her, being called softly. Instead of feeling the cold ground beneath her head, she felt a hard thigh, warmed from her body heat. She sat up somewhat startled, trying to figure out how her head had found its way into the vampire’s lap - without her waking. Her hand flew automatically to her neck, seeking proof that he’d done nothing to her. Nope. No bite mark.

She turned to ask him what…why, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“Wake me in thirty minutes,” he announced gruffly, stretching out in the empty space she’d just vacated. Her body heat had warmed the ground where she once lay, and Spike snuggled deeper into the remaining heat before he drifted off to sleep.

Buffy watched the peroxide-blond vampire, confused. Why would he offer himself as her pillow? And, why did he give her thirty minutes of his time? At least she assumed he had after his gruff announcement…they’d made a pact not to stay in one place longer than two hours.

Sighing in confusion, she leaned back against the wall and watched Spike sleep. For all appearance, he looked dead. Well, he was dead…or undead, or whatever.

Thirty minutes later, she leaned over and lightly caressed his face. The hard planes of his cheekbones were too much of a temptation for her to resist. She’d secretly thought he was gorgeous, even after she’d realized he was a vampire, a deadly killer. She used the excuse of waking him to finally get a chance to touch him.

“Spike? It’s time to go,” she whispered softly, her fingertips grazed lightly over his soft lips before pulling away.

He felt the butterfly caress along his face and lips and was just about to lean into it when her hand disappeared. Spike pushed himself away from the cold floor and stood. He reached a hand down to the Slayer and was surprised when she slipped her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Let’s go,” he announced, releasing her hand and moving back towards the tunnels. He paused for a moment and sniffed the air. Nothing. Good. He moved off into the tunnels towards their next two-hour reprieve.

For the next ten hours, the two kept to the plan, neither saying much the entire time. When dusk approached, they parted ways, carefully searching the shadows for any hidden threats.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy went to the school first. She needed to find Giles and get as much information as possible on the Order of Taraka. She rushed up the steps leading into the school; the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, as if someone…or some thing was watching her. She glanced back over her shoulder, searching the shadows for any sign, a hint of someone stalking her. Seeing nothing, she turned and rushed inside.

Her boots rang out loudly in the deserted hallways, the noise dying away once she stopped before the double doors leading into the library. They were all there: Giles, Willow, Xander…even Cordelia. She also noticed Kendra was pacing back and forth as Giles spoke to the group.

Buffy watched the other Slayer stop suddenly; the two locked eyes when she glanced up to where Buffy stood gazing at the group.

‘Ok, Buffy, you can do this,’ she murmured to herself.

Using her empty hand, she pushed one of the doors inward and walked inside.

Willow was the first Scooby that noticed her. She jumped to her feet, a yelled “Buffy” leaving her lips as she rushed across the room to embrace her friend. After a quick hug, the redhead pulled away to look at her friend’s carefully blank face.

“Are you ok, Buffy?” she asked. “Of course you’re not ok…you’re…”

Buffy tuned out Willow as she stuttered and stumbled through her apologetic monologue. If she actually listened to her friend, the ice that had settled around her heart to deal with her pain would melt, and she’d be helpless to stop the tidal wave of emotions thinking about Angel’s death would bring.

“I’m fine, Will,” she answered, cutting short her friend’s attempt to console her. She walked further into the room to escape the well-meaning girl.

“Buffy,” Xander began.

“It’s ok, Xander. I’ll be fine.” There was that word again. Fine. Such a short, small word to cover such a big lie. Oh well.

Turning to her watcher she told him, “Giles, I need to know everything you can tell me about the Order. Anything that might be of any possible help in dealing with these assassins.”

“That’s just it, Buffy. What I told you earlier is all we really know about them. They’re a deadly order of assassins dating back to King Solomon, and they won’t stop until their target is eliminated.”

It was what Buffy had figured, but she’d come here…hoping. There was no help for it. She was going to have to leave, handle this on her own. She wouldn’t put her friends, her mom, in danger. They wanted her, and by God, they were only going to get her.

“Ok. I’m going to get home. I haven’t been there all night and I need to shower and change. We’ll meet back here in the morning and hit the books, see if there’s anything else we can possibly figure out about these assassins.”

“Buffy? Do you think that’s wise? Going home alone?” Giles questioned.

“Oh, I won’t be alone. I’m going to take Kendra with me.” A look passed between the two Slayers, and Kendra gave her an imperceptible nod in agreement.

“Yes…very good then. The rest of you go on home. We’ll meet back here, say around nine?” Since tomorrow was Saturday, they didn’t have to worry about classes.

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Buffy told the gang with an even voice. Without another word, she turned and left the room, Kendra following in her wake.

~*~*~*~*~

The two waited until they reached Buffy’s house before talking – both Slayers were too busy scanning the shadows for signs of a possible ambush to engage in conversation.

“I’ll watch over dem,” Kendra told her, her accented voice the first to break the silence.

“Thanks! I couldn’t leave knowing they weren’t going to be looked after. And, they’ll help you too, though, that may take some getting used to. I want you to stay here, keep an eye on my mom. She doesn’t have a clue about any of this, and my disappearance is going to hit her hard. It'll be nice for her to have someone to mother.”

“Ok.”

“I’m just going to take a quick shower, get rid of some of this grime…then pack a bag and be gone. I don’t think the Order would think I was crazy enough to come back here, so you should be pretty safe. Wait until tomorrow…to let the others know…” her voice trailed off as emotion welled in her throat. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of not seeing her friends or family again, but it was for the best.

She couldn't bear the thought of anyone getting hurt because someone was after her. Better for them to seek her out alone.

Buffy ascended the staircase and took a quick shower, washing off the dirt, grime, and ash that had settled into her skin during the past twenty-four hours. She wanted to take her time, not sure when she was going to get another chance to shower, but the urgency of the situation dictated otherwise. With a resigned sigh, she turned off the hot water and stepped from the shower.

Grabbing a towel, she quickly dried herself off. She bypassed the mirror; she didn’t want to see the haunted face of the girl that would stare back at her. Instead, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she moved to her bedroom to pack a few things before she disappeared for good.

She quickly dressed in a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a tank top with a flannel to wear over it. Grabbing the army-colored duffle bag from her closet, she threw several changes of clothes in it, a couple pairs of shoes, and as many weapons as she could carry but not have the weight hinder her. She also slipped the container holding Angel’s ashes inside. She couldn’t carry them with her forever; she’d need to figure out a spot for his final resting place…but for now, they would stay with her.

Buffy sat down on her bed and slipped her feet into her boots. Rising, she looked around the room for the last time. She took no personal mementos from her room, deciding to leave everything as it was for when…if…she made it back.

With resolve on her face she left her room, practically racing down the stairs in her haste to be off, away from her home. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glancing in to the living room to see Kendra looking around at the various decorations littering the room.

“Kendra…I…”

Kendra glanced up at the sound of her name. A moment of understanding passed between the two girls. Their life was destined to be short, even though they’d fight against their destiny with everything they had in them.

“Go’on, girl, ye bes be leevin,” Kendra replied.

“Yes.” Buffy nodded and moved to the door. “Kendra?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks…be safe.”

“You too, girl, you too.”

Without another word, Buffy slipped out into the night. She’d raided her mom’s emergency cash fund, and now had a couple hundred dollars stashed in her pockets. Tomorrow, she’d go and withdraw the money from her college savings fund. Hers was about to become a cash and carry existence. She couldn’t afford to be tracked electronically by the Order.

Her first stop would be to pay good ‘ole Willie the bartender a visit. The lowlife should be able to put her in touch with someone that could forge an ID and passport for her.

~*~*~*~*~

“Owww…hell, Slayer. I’ll tell you what you want to know. Just stop with the physical assault, alright?”

Buffy glared at Willie as she invaded his personal space, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt and held him pinned up against the wall.

“Fake papers…where can I get some. Good ones.”

“How much money you have?”

“What’s that matter? You’re going to be footing the bill for them…or did you think the crap you pulled last night was all forgiven by me?”

“Right…ah…no, no. Ah…Harry’ll be the one you want. He’s the best in the business, have a few…er, you don’t need to know about that.”

“Harry. Well, take me to this Harry. And, don’t try anything. After last night, I wouldn’t think twice about making you my first ‘human’ victim.”

Willie swallowed hard, nodding vigorously.

An hour later, Buffy became Anne Winters, a twenty-one year old from New York. With a new identity in place, she made her way to the bus station. She needed to get to Los Angeles so she could close out her account tomorrow. After that, Buffy Summers was going to disappear for good.


Chapter 4

Spike watched as the Slayer moved towards the bus ticket booth. He wasn’t surprised to see that she was getting out of Sunnyhell; he couldn’t blame her. For some strange reason, he just wanted to make sure she got off ok before he left town himself. The two had bonded momentarily while trapped in the sewer tunnels, and he had to see for himself that she was going to be alright on her own.

She had almost reached the ticket counter when a slight movement caught his eye. His features shifted and he watched as a figure dressed in black – to blend with the night – slowly stalked her way towards the unsuspecting Slayer.

He opened the door and stepped out of the Desoto. He started forward, as if to intercept the assassin before he could reach his target, when he suddenly became aware of his own stalker.

“Slayer! Look out!” he shouted before flattening himself upon the ground, a bust of flames soaring over where his head was just moments ago. He glanced up at the Slayer to make sure she was all right before turning to confront the giant of a man that had managed to creep up behind him.

He rolled to the side and barely avoided another deadly burst from the behemoth’s gun. Scrambling to his feet, he dashed off towards the Slayer, first, to lead the flame-wielding assassin away from his means of escape and, second, to make sure the black-clad assassin didn’t reach his target…evidently the Slayer hadn’t heard his shout.

~*~

“I’d like a ticket to LA, please,” Buffy announced to the ticket agent.

“That’ll be $65.00, miss.”

Buffy was just reaching into her pocket for some money when she felt the unmistakable feeling of a vampire closing on her. She turned to confront her attacker and watched as a black-clad blur, slammed into another black-clad figure then rolled into the alley.

Spike?

“I’ll be right back,” she told the agent, and stepped out of line. Her duffle slapped against her back as she jogged after the pair towards the alley.

She got there just in time to see Spike sink his fangs into her assailant, draining her quickly.

Spike quickly finished off the assassin and released her body to let it fall to the ground. His amber gaze pinned the Slayer in place.

“There’s another one. Coming this way. The giant with the flamethrower. We’ve got to get out of here.”

He strode quickly to the entrance of the alley, grabbed the stunned Slayer’s hand and tugged her after him. They made a circuitous path back to his Desoto, Spike’s yellowed gaze scanning all around for signs of any other assassin that may be pursuing the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the giant make his way towards the alley and his fallen comrade.

With a burst of speed, the two ran towards Spike’s car, hopping inside before the huge man noticed them and gave chase. Spike started the engine, shifting the car into drive, then slammed his foot on the gas. The powerful car lurched forward, the tires spinning uselessly on the pavement before finally catching.

“Where to, Slayer?” he asked once they were out of Sunnydale.

“Los Angeles. I need to get some cash.”

“Right.” He didn’t say another word, just drove in silence towards LA. Wearily, Buffy leaned her head against the passenger side window as they hightailed it out of town. Exhaustion was quickly taking hold, and it wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep.

Spike glanced at the Slayer as her breathing and heart rate slowed. Why had he rescued her? He was evil. What did he care if she got herself killed?

He rationalized his actions by telling himself that they would stand a better chance of surviving if they stuck together. Leaving it at that, Spike drove on into the night.

~*~

It was about an hour before dawn when Spike pulled into LA. They needed to find a place to hole up for the day, make some type of plans about what they were going to do.

“Slayer?” He reached over and gently shook her shoulder.

“Hmmmm?” Buffy came awake with a start as her vampire radar went haywire. She sat up from the window then relaxed, her mind finally catching up with her body, realizing that Spike was the one kicking her Slayer meter into overdrive.

“Where are we?” she asked once her heart rate settled down somewhat.

“LA. I’m jus' gonna go get us a room to crash in before the sun comes up.”

“Ok.”

Just like that, she’d let him make the decision. She’d placed her fate into the hands of an evil, bloodsucking vampire who had make it clear in no uncertain terms that the next goal in his unlife had been to kill her and add one more dead Slayer to his belt.

She watched as he slipped from the car and made his way to the tiny motel window to obtain a room. Leaning back against the headrest, she pondered the crazy upheaval her life had become.

It seemed like just moments had passed when suddenly Spike was back at the car and opening her door. She grabbed her duffle from the backseat and followed him towards their room. When he stopped in front of room thirteen, she cocked her brow at him.

“Wot? I’m evil,” he smirked. Buffy just laughed. Exhausted as she was, she could see his perverse humor. Only an evil vampire would pick such an unlucky number for their room. Shaking her head at his foolishness, she followed him inside.

Even though it was just one room, it still had two queen-sized beds. Buffy walked to the one furthest from the door and dropped her bag on it. Her feet kept moving towards the bathroom. Spike shut and locked the entry door, pulling the heavy drapes closed to block out the harmful rays that were going to be making an appearance soon. He walked over to the empty bed and dropped his bag beside it.

He shrugged out of his duster, laying it over one of the chairs that circled the small table in their room. His red button-down shirt and black t-shirt quickly followed the same path. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots and socks before stretching out on top of the bed. He wrapped his arms around a pillow and rolled onto his stomach – he was asleep moments later.

Buffy came out of the bathroom and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. The Big Bad looked like a giant teddy bear stretched out on the bed. ‘A very sexy giant teddy bear,’ she amended once she got a good look at his lean frame and six-pack abs. Who knew what lay hidden beneath that bulky duster? Probably a good thing for her Slayer piece of mind.

She opened her duffle and rummaged around for some sweats to slip on in place of her jeans. Removing her flannel shirt, leaving just her tank top, she placed the garment aside and quickly shimmied out of her jeans and replaced them with the well-worn drawstring cotton sweatpants. Buffy eyed her vacant bed before sliding her gaze back to the slumbering vampire.

After leaving everyone and everything she held dear behind in Sunnydale, the last thing she wanted to do was be alone. She’d just sleep on the edge of his bed; he’d never even know she was there. She needed some type of contact, even if it was from a deadly vampire. One who’d happened to have saved her…

And, what was up with that?

Shaking her head at the question she’d probably never get an answer to, Buffy slid into bed beside Spike, careful to keep close to the edge so as not to alert him to her presence. Comforted by his nearness, she was soon fast asleep.

~*~*~*~*~

A glance at the bedside clock showed that she’d slept for another four hours. It was just after nine and the banks had probably just opened. She figured she’d get there first thing before anyone in Sunnydale was alerted to her disappearance and tried to guess her plans.

She attempted to sit up and slip out of bed unnoticed, but realized she couldn’t. Sometime during the night – make that day – Spike had rolled over and curled up behind her. One armed draped possessively around her hip as he spooned into her backside. She lay there a moment frozen in shock, her mind trying to grasp the fact that Spike was snuggled up close to her…and sleeping.

‘Ok, Buffy, leave that one for later. You need to get to the bank and get some money.’

Carefully, she rolled out of his grasp and slipped from the bed. She breathed a sigh of relief when he did nothing more than roll over onto his stomach and snuggle deeper into the pillows. She watched him for a moment before changing her sweats for the jeans she’d had on yesterday. Grabbing her real identification and the room key, she slipped carefully from the motel room – mindful of the sun’s deadly rays.

She walked to the nearest payphone and pulled the phonebook up by its metal cord, scanning the pages until she found the number to her bank and depositing the necessary change before dialing the main number. When the operator came over the line, she explained that she was staying at a motel, gave the woman the address and asked to be directed to the nearest branch. A smile came to her lips when the woman told her the nearest branch was just three blocks away from her.

It made her feet very happy.

There was no way in the world that Buffy was driving Spike’s car.

At the bank, she was directed to the branch’s manager when she explained that she wanted to close her account. Since it was in her name, they couldn’t really deny her request. They also tried to urge against cash, since it was a large sum of money, but Buffy was adamant. Cash was untraceable. And, she needed to be untraceable. The manager hemmed and hawed for a bit, but in the end, he could do nothing but give in gracefully.

Thirty minutes later, Buffy made her way out of the bank, twenty five thousand dollars hidden inside the money belt strapped to her stomach, several hundred dollars were stuffed into her pocket to allow her to pick up a few items from the various shops in the strip mall she had spotted on her brief walk to the bank.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy shifted her packages in one hand and used the other to open the motel door. She barely cracked the door and peeked inside to make sure the sunlight wouldn’t hit Spike. Grateful for the westward position of their door – something he’d probably requested now that she thought about it – she slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her. The plastic bags holding her purchases crinkled loudly in the otherwise quiet room as she set them on the dresser next to the TV.

The Slayer glanced behind her to the vampire that still lay sleeping on the bed. She hadn’t wanted to wake him, knowing that he needed his sleep if he were to take over guard duties later tonight.

She rummaged quietly through one of the bags and located the box of hair dye she had purchased. Buffy was going to die a quick death in this room, leaving Anne Winters – complete with a whole new look – in her place. It was a good thing that the bartender had mentioned wearing a few wigs when she’d had her picture taken. She’d even had the forger give her two different sets of identification; for now she would be Anne, she’d save the other identity for later.

Padding softly to the bathroom, she slipped inside and shut the door. She opened the box and took out the hair dye that would give her a whole new look. Her sun-kissed locks were going away; she was about to complement Spike’s punk look. She’d even picked up a few “accessories” to complete the whole Goth persona she was trying to achieve. She figured raven-colored hair was a complete turnaround from her normal look, and she hoped it would provide her with some leverage against the assassins bent on killing her.

Twenty minutes later, she cut on the hot water in the tub and pulled the lever to engage the shower. Naked, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped under the shower head. The black dye was rinsed from her hair, sliding in rivulets down her body to the drain below. Buffy stayed under the shower for a while letting the pounding spray ease the tension in her aching muscles.

When she felt the water start to lose its heat, she opened the small bar of soap the motel provided, grumbling to herself about forgetting to buy some shower gel. She quickly lathered her body, rinsed, and then cut off the rapidly cooling water. She reached for a towel, twirling it turban-style into her hair and grabbed another to wrap around her body. She stepped out of the tub and wiped the condensation from the mirror. Grabbing the dye bottle, she dribbled a few small drops on her pinkie and rubbed them into her eyebrows. She let the dye sit for a few minutes then rinsed it off with a washcloth.

She lifted her hands and pulled the towel from her head, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips parted in a silent “o” at her startling transformation. She almost didn’t recognize herself…maybe her new look would be enough to throw her attackers off as well.

Pleased with the results, she stepped from the bathroom clad in only a towel. Holding it in one hand, she used the other to grab fresh underwear out of her duffel as well as a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt. She scampered back to the bathroom and quickly donned her clothes.

It had been over an hour since she’d left the bank and she was starting to get antsy. Something, some sixth sense was telling her to leave…and soon.

Buffy grabbed the new boots she had purchased out of the bag. She quickly slipped the black combat boots on her feet and laced them. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and cringed. She looked nothing like the cheery California girl she used to be. Hazel eyes tinged with pain gazed back at her. Lack of food and sleep, as well as the constant anxiety she had been feeling had made her face appear more pale than usual. Combined with the dark hair and brows, as well as the equally dark shirt, Buffy looked like a completely different person.

Her eyes searched out Spike’s in the mirror before realizing that he didn’t cast a reflection. Glancing over her shoulder, she started when she realized that he was awake – and staring. He was propped up on his elbow eyeing her transformation in the mirror.

Man, he was gorgeous with his bed head hair and bare chest! His blue eyes were gazing into her as if he could see right through her.

Bad thoughts Buffy! Focus. Shaking herself mentally, she focused on her rising worry.

“I think we should get out of here, Spike.”

He cocked a brow at her.

“Bit of a problem, that. Daylight. Vampire here.”

“I know, but I left the bank almost two hours ago. The withdrawal I made is bound to draw someone’s notice. I say we put as much distance between here and L.A. as possible.”

Spike sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“You’re serious.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. Something’s telling me to get the hell outta dodge, and I’m not going to ignore it. You with me?”

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Yeah. You shower. I’ll get everything packed up and loaded in the car.”

She turned to begin packing up their meager belongings as Spike made his way to the bathroom. Just before he stepped inside, he stopped.

“Slayer?”

She stopped what she was doing to look up at him. Spike eyes roamed appreciatively over her frame from head to toe.

“Nice look.”

Then he dipped inside the bathroom and shut the door.

Buffy’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where he once stood. Her body was still tingling from the heated look he had given her after his gaze had raked over her. Her mouth gaped open in astonishment. Had that been desire that had lit his eyes?

Focusing once more on her task, she made quick work of packing their belongings.

She had just finished her last load to the car when she heard the water cut off. When Spike stepped out of the bathroom clad only in a towel, Buffy tried desperately to look anywhere but at his hard, bare chest. Frantically, she set about distracting herself from watching the tiny water droplets as they rolled down his alabaster skin towards the knot that held his towel in place.

Seeing nothing else she could grab to make herself busy, she mumbled a quick, “I’m gonna grab some food,” and raced out the door, careful not to let any sunlight in the room.

Spike, who had been using a towel on his wet hair to dry it off, couldn’t see the Slayer’s agitation. He could; however, detect a marked increase in her heart rate. And, as he heard the front door slam, he lowered the towel from his head, a slight smirk on his features.

‘This is gonna be interesting,’ he thought and made quick work of getting dressed. He eyed the clothes laid out on the bed, and his smile grew wide as a thought suddenly occurred to him.

He just wished he’d seen the look on the Slayer’s face when she didn’t come across any soddin' underwear in his bag.


Chapter 5

Kendra walked into the library alone. All eyes lifted towards the swinging double doors at the sound of her approach. She’d stayed at her sister Slayer’s house for as long as she dared before finally making her way over to the school. She’d ignored the ringing phone – not that she’d answer it anyway – but she’d figured it was Buffy’s watcher calling to find out where the two were.

“Where’s Buffy?” Giles asked as the dark-skinned Slayer came to stand by their table.

“She ees gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean…gone?” Xander asked, confused.

“When’s she going to be back,” Willow asked almost at the same time as Xander. Her naïve mind hadn’t grasped that when Kendra had said gone, she had meant for good.

“She ees not comin back,” Kendra announced in her heavily accented voice. “She t’ought it would be for de best. Better her alone, den her family and her friends too, she said. I will stay ‘ere in her place.”

Giles took off his glasses as he leaned back in his chair.

“She shouldn’t have gone off alone. I can’t believe you would be so irresponsible as to let her leave. We would have figured something out…we could…” His voice trailed off as he caught the look Kendra gave him. She was right. As much research as they could have done, nothing would have been enough. By staying here, Buffy would have announced her location to the Order of Taraka and practically begged them to come after her.

“Buffy,” Willow whimpered softly. “She’s out there all alone, Giles. Oh God! What are we gonna tell her mother?”

“I don’t know, Willow. I don’t know.”

~*~*~*~*~

It was quiet inside the blackened-out Desoto as they made their way along Highway 10 out of the city. They’d been driving for several hours, no clear destination in mind. It was probably for the best – if they didn’t know where they were going, there was no way the Order’s assassins would know where they were either.

“Spike?” she called his name in a soft voice, her eyes fixed on the road in front of them.

“Yeah, pet.”

“Where would…that is…uh…” her voice trailed off.

Spike continued to drive down the road. He knew what she wanted to say, to ask; he just didn’t know if he was ready to talk about it yet.

“Where was his most favorite place?” The words slipped from her mouth almost ten minutes later. Neither looked at the other, both thinking back to that moment when they'd watched as the two vampires had turned to dust before their eyes.

“Don’t rightly know,” he answered softly.

“Ok.” If it weren’t for his enhanced vampiric hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her.

They were almost to Phoenix when she spoke again.

“What about Drusilla? Where will you take her?” She didn’t know why she asked. She didn’t think he’d answer her. She was just trying to get some sort of idea for a final resting place for Angel. As much as she may want to, she couldn’t keep lugging his ashes with her – something was bound to happen to them. Better for his final resting place to be someplace that Angel might have called home.

Spike surprised himself by answering the Slayer.

“She was destined for the convent before she was turned. It’s only fittin' that she return there.”

Buffy turned her face to look at him. His jaw was working furiously, trying to keep his emotions in check. She could see his hands fisted around the steering wheel; she just hoped he didn’t pull the thing off in his anger.

She lifted her hand as if to place it on his shoulder, possibly offer him some small type of comfort. He must have caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, because he turned away from the slit in the front window to glance at her.

Pain burned in the depths of his deep blue eyes. Buffy knew it because she was sure the same was reflected in her own.

“I…thanks,” she murmured, dropping her hand without touching him. A half smile played about his lips before he turned back to the road.

~*~*~*~*~

When the sun finally set, Spike pulled into the first motel he could find. He was starting to get hungry, but wanted to get the Slayer settled for the night before hunting for food.

“Hungry?” he asked her when he came back to the car with their key.

She just shook her head and climbed out of the car, grabbing her duffle from the back seat. He’d picked a corner ground floor unit this time, not that they’d had to worry about too many neighbors at this rundown hellhole. But as long as the sheets were clean and the water was hot, she didn’t care.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, not bothering to look back to see if he came in or not. She knew he was hungry, and she just didn’t have it in her to stop him.

She dropped her bag on the bed and continued walking towards the bathroom.

Spike watched the Slayer for a moment. She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped as if she carried the weight of the world on them. Shaking off his concern, he turned and made his way to the door. Her whispered words haunted him as he opened the door to leave.

“Don’t prey on the innocent.”

Spike stayed out for several hours. Each time he saw an easy meal, he held back – her words whispering through his head in a silent plea. Frustrated at himself, he finally scoped out a seedy bar to engage in a little sport to ease some of the tension pervading his body. And, he could just as easily find dinner here as well. Smiling for the first time in hours, he made his way across the street to where two men were engaging in a knife fight outside the front door.

An evil chuckle escaped his mouth upon spying the name of the bar: Hellraisers.

Oh yeah, he’d fit right in here.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike let himself back into their room around 1a.m., his body slightly warmed by the fresh blood he’d recently consumed. And he’d even listened to the Slayer, choosing two men with evil streaks a mile wide. Or, so they'd thought until encountering him. He’d gloried in their fear as he’d drained first one and then the other in the alley behind the bar.

He locked the door behind him, securing the chain. Pulling off his duster, he let it fall over the back of a chair. He checked the curtains, making sure that no stray beam could peek in and burn him in the morning. Satisfied, he sat down on the vacant bed and pulled off his boots and socks before removing his shirts. Naked but for the jeans riding low on his hips, he moved to pull back the covers on his own bed, but stopped.

His head cocked to the side as he listened.

There it was again. A soft sound, almost like a moan. His eyes narrowed on the Slayer as she lay curled in a ball on the other bed. He frowned when he noticed her slight frame shake. Then he figured out what she was doing…she was crying. In her sleep.

Walking towards the other bed, he gazed down at her. Tears were falling from beneath her closed lids in wet streaks down her face. In her arms, she held a container close to her. Angel. She must be having a nightmare.

Realizing he wouldn’t get any sleep with her crying all night, he reached down and gently pulled the box from her hands. He walked over to the dresser and set the container aside. Calling himself all kinds of fools, he slipped under the covers in bed next to her. He tried not to wake her as he pulled her back into his arms and held her close.

She seemed to calm somewhat at his touch, and the silent sobs wracking her body eventually stopped. A contented sigh escaped the vampire’s lips as he snuggled close to the Slayer’s warm body and allowed the slow, even beat of her heart lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy woke to the feel of a cool, bare chest beneath her cheek, her bare legs entangled with a pair encased in denim. Twin arms wrapped around her back holding her close, almost in a protective gesture. Still half asleep, she snuggled closer to the body wrapped around hers and let out a sigh as he tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer.

It felt so good just to be held like that. She felt safe.

Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes and wasn’t surprised to see blue eyes gazing down at her. She just watched him watching her, lost in his cerulean depths.

She couldn’t be quite sure who made the first move, or if it was by some mutual understanding. His head dipped as hers rose, and then their lips were touching.

‘His lips are so soft,’ was the vague thought circling in her brain as his lips roamed back and forth across hers. When he began nibbling on her lower lip, her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed herself to be swept away by the unexpected desire flooding her body at his touch.

His tongue flicked out to tease her lips, silently begging entrance. She hesitated and he stopped the trail of his tongue and went back to nibbling at her lower lip.

‘God, he’s good at this,’ she thought, just before he sucked her lip into his mouth. She couldn’t prevent the soft moan that rumbled from somewhere in the back of her throat before escaping her now parted lips.

Spike took advantage of her brief lapse, slipping his tongue inside to see how good she tasted. Her heat was intoxicating and he answered her low moan with a growl of his own. One of his hands slipped from behind her back to cup her jaw, his thumb sliding idly back and forth along her skin as his tongue plundered her mouth.

When she used her tongue to begin a timid duel with his own, he was lost. Her innocence captivated him and he found the tenuous hold on his control slip.

Her shyness quickly gave way and she tore her lips from his so she could use her tongue to mimic what he had done to her. The pink tip darted out to circle his parted lips. Then, she grew bolder, worrying his retracted canines, unknowingly hitting on one of his most erogenous zones. Spike couldn’t prevent the growl that erupted from him at her touch, and he wondered briefly if she had any idea how erotic it was to have her tongue trace his teeth like that.

He needed to feel the weight of her body against him. Using the arm still molded around her back, he held her tight as he rolled to his back, allowing her body to drape over the top of his. His chest seemed to burn where her hardened nipples bore into him through the thin material of her nightshirt. He let her set the pace, not wanting to scare her off…but, god, she was driving him crazy. He needed to take control, devour her like she was slowly devouring him.

His fingers fisted in her new raven-colored locks and gently tugged her head back, breaking their kiss and exposing the long column of her neck to his gaze. His lips whispered along her jaw and down her neck. He felt her breath hitch and he began lightly nibbling up and down her throat.

When she offered no signs of protest to his ministrations, he gave into the lust that was consuming him and rolled them over so that he lay on top of her. His lips blazed a trail to her ear, his teeth gently nibbling on her lobe. The tip of his tongue traced a path along the shell of her ear.

Buffy moaned as Spike alternately nipped and sucked at her earlobe. His cool breath as it whispered over the wet trail he was leaving was doing crazy things to her sensory circuits. She felt like she was about to spontaneously combust at the heat generating through her body.

“God… Spike,” she whimpered and tried to pull him even closer.

“Mmmmm, pet, you taste so good,” he whispered hoarsely.

Suddenly, he stopped, his whole body going rigid as he lay on top of her. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, just in time to see his blue eyes give way to amber, ridges on his brow forming as his demonic features slipped into place. Before Buffy had time to react, Spike launched himself off of her just as the motel door burst open and two assassins stormed inside.

Buffy, clad in only a t-shirt and panties, scrambled off the bed just as one of the assassins charged her. Spike had engaged the other, but he was hampered by the sunlight streaming in through the open door. She darted around the foot of the bed and quickly kicked the door shut before rushing to her bag and grabbing the first weapon she put her hand on.

She remained crouched on the floor next to her bag as the assassin charged her again. Just before he reached her, she came up swinging with her axe. Her attacker managed to duck at the last moment and avoid the blow aimed at his head. The Order apparently knew its business, sending humans after her. But, they were sadly mistaken if they thought that she wouldn’t kill one to save her own life. Her Slayer honor code only stretched so far.

She was too concentrated on her fight with her attacker to pay much attention to Spike and how he was handling his, but she nearly faltered when she heard him cry out in pain, right before he roared in agony. The bastard had just sprayed him with holy water and followed it up with a stake that landed just wide of its intended target. His attacker was leaning over him with a second stake aimed straight at his heart, and Buffy saw red.

In a blink of an eye, the axe in her hand soared through the air to imbed itself in the assassin’s back. She watched as he crumpled beside Spike before turning back to confront the remaining assassin.

The other had paused, momentarily perplexed that she had killed a human bent on destroying a vampire. Seeing his confusion, she smirked at him.

“What? Didn’t think I’d kill a human because I’m the Slayer?” she asked rhetorically, sarcasm dripping heavily from her voice. She watched his eyes widen when he realized that it was the Slayer standing before him, not some vamp meal. A smile touched her lips that her disguise had seemed to be working. Good thing this assassin wasn’t going to live long enough to enlighten the Order as to her changed appearance.

“Oh, I’m sorry…you’re get-out-of-jail card expired the moment your Order tried to kill me. Human, demon… makes no difference to me who you guys send. You’re one and the same.”

To prove her point, she cart wheeled in the slight aisle at the foot of the bed towards the fallen assassin and ripped the axe from his back as she came to her feet. The axe left her hand before the remaining attacker had time to prepare, and his eyes widened in amazement before glazing over as he too slumped to the floor in a heap, the axe buried deep in his chest.

Once assured he was dead, Buffy turned to where Spike lay on the ground desperately trying to pull the stake from his chest. His torso was crimson from the blood pouring out of the wound; angry welts arced across his chest, arms, and face from where the holy water was thrown on him.

“Spike,” she called softly as she cradled his head in her lap.

“Slayer…hurts…pull it out…” he whimpered, before he passed out from the pain.

She eyed the stake protruding from his chest as blood seeped out around it. If she pulled it out now, she’d have to concentrate on stemming the flow and they wouldn’t be able to get out of there. Reaching a decision, she laid his head back on the floor. She grabbed her jeans and threw them on.

Racing around the room, she packed as quickly as possible and loaded their stuff in the car. Back in the motel room, she grabbed a sheet from the bed and started ripping it into strips. She knelt down by Spike and yanked the stake out in one quick pull. Immediately, blood welled from the gaping hole in his chest. She grabbed the strips she had made and set about wrapping them around his wound.

When she was finished, she pulled and prodded and finally managed to get him on the bed. Rushing back outside, she opened the passenger door of his Desoto. She hurried back to the room and wrapped him in the comforter. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe because he was wrapped tight, allowing no room for the harmful rays of the sun to sneak inside.

She lifted him fireman-style over her shoulder and walked out the open door to the car, careful not to jar him too much and start his wound bleeding again. When he was tucked inside, she shut the car door and hurried around to the other side.

‘This is going to be an adventure,’ she thought as she slipped behind the steering wheel and started the engine. She wasn’t the best driver in the world…who was she kidding? She was the worst. But, they needed to get away from there as quickly as possible. They couldn’t wait for nightfall to come so that Spike…shoot, she wasn’t even sure IF Spike could drive. It was up to her to get some distance between them and their old motel room.

She wondered how the Order had found them. Swinging onto the road, she gunned the Desoto. It was amazing what she could do when she put her mind to it. She hadn’t panicked and now seemed to be doing fairly well with this whole driving thing.

Driving.

Desoto.

Spike’s Desoto.

They needed to ditch the car. Crap. That wasn’t going to make Spike too happy.


Chapter 6

Stealing a car was never an easy thing. Doing it in broad daylight was damn near impossible. She needed to find something that would provide decent cover for Spike during the day, but still be manageable for her to drive. Campers and RV’s were out. She’d settle on a pickup truck, but it would need to have a bedcover in order to be feasible.

Driving Spike’s Desoto with its blackened out windows was sure to draw attention, especially driving it through suburban Phoenix. But, she needed to find a car, and damn soon.

She drove around a corner and it seemed as if the fates were smiling down on her. She pulled over as she watch a woman get out of her idling SUV she had parked at the curb to dart back inside her house. It was now or never.

Leaving the Desoto running, she slipped out of the driver’s seat and raced to the woman’s SUV. Two seconds later, she calmly slipped behind the wheel and drove the car a few blocks over. She cut off the engine and grabbed the keys before racing back to where she had left a wounded Spike bundled up in a comforter inside his car.

Fifteen minutes later, Buffy was driving on the interstate out of town after a brief stop to change the license plates with another vehicle. She was getting pretty good at this. She just prayed Spike didn’t kill her when he realized she’d ditched his car. In his current condition, it didn’t seem like a possible notion…which reminded her. She was going to have to stop soon to see to his injuries.

She finally stopped in Tucson, Arizona. She would have driven further, tried to put more distance between them and their last known location, but she was deeply worried about Spike. She was going to need him to help find the Order, and she’d come to rely on his presence over the last couple of days.

She pulled the stolen SUV into a “mom and pop” motel and went to secure a room. She chose one as far away from prying eyes as possible. They’d probably think it was strange for a girl to be hauling a rolled up comforter over her shoulder, especially given her new “Goth” look. Something of which she’d almost forgotten about. But, the wary looks the older woman had thrown her way quickly reminded her of the fact.

She grabbed all of their belongings and deposited them in the room before going back to get Spike. As she hoisted him onto her shoulder, she heard him let out a muffled groan. She was torn between going slow and prolonging his agony, or just hurrying and getting it over with. In the end, she just hurried.

She eased the rolled up vampire off of her shoulder and onto the single queen-sized bed. Buffy didn’t see the point in getting two since they’d never used the second one anyway. Besides, it had saved them ten bucks.

When she got a look at the comforter, she let out a gasp. The thing was covered in blood. Her hands worked frantically to uncoil Spike, and she could feel tears well up in her eyes once he was finally exposed to her.

His face was unusually pale, as if all of his blood had just seeped out of him. His face, arms, and torso still bore the signs of the holy water he’d been sprayed with, the red angry welts stood out in stark contrast to his alabaster skin. He lay deathly still on the bed and Buffy was at a loss as to what she should do.

She knew he needed blood to heal, but she just didn’t see herself scouring about for his next meal. She hadn’t said a word when he left last night, but actively seeking a body for him to drain went against her moral code.

Climbing up onto the bed, she tried to shake him awake.

“Spike? Spike? Wake up!” she practically yelled as she shook him.

Nothing.

“Come on, Spike. Wake up, dammit! You can’t die on me… I need your help!” Tears were starting to slip silently from her eyes and down her cheeks as she straddled his waist.

“If you don’t help me… I can’t do this on my own…Spike! Wake up!” Her voice rose frantically; she was shaking him so hard and he wasn’t budging, and she feared that he was dead, and she was going to have to do this alone.

Then, his eyelids flew open and he pinned her with his amber stare moments before he vamped and attacked.

He bolted upright, one hand instinctively going to her hair to pull her head to the side, the other moving her black t-shirt out of his way. Then he struck, his fangs sinking deep into her neck, practically purring his pleasure once her healing blood flooded his mouth and slid down his throat.

His eyes closed, and he gave himself up to the ambrosia that was her Slayer’s blood. He pulled her close, the apex of her thighs nestled over his hardened length so that he could feel the heat radiating from her core. Spike inhaled the scent of her arousal. It, combined with the scent of her blood on the air, were slowing driving him to the breaking point.

“Spike,” she whispered, and tried to clamor closer to his body. His fangs had stung when they first pierced her flesh, but right now, as he pulled her blood into his mouth…she could feel it deep within her core. A steady throbbing that increased the more he drank. It was sensuous. Wicked. And, oh God! It felt so good.

Then her body started relaxing as the blood loss began to get to her. Arms that had been holding him close, relaxed and lay limp at her side. Her head fell back and her eyes started to roll back just before her eyelids descended.

Through the haze of his bloodlust and desire, Spike realized that Buffy was no longer holding him tight and lay limp in his arms. He abruptly released her neck, his human mask returning as his gaze raked her features.

“Slayer?” he called softly as he lifted her lax body close to his. “Pet? Are you ok?”

One hand lifted to smooth her dark hair back from her face. Her eyelids fluttered, and Spike found himself heaving a sigh of relief.

“Come on, luv. Wake up.”

Her eyelids finally lifted and blue eyes locked with hazel.

“All better?” she asked with a slur in her voice, the recent blood loss weighing her limbs down so that she started to sag against him. The slight smile that played about her lips gave her an almost drunk appearance.

“Uh huh…Big Bad’s all better.”

“Good,” she whispered before she fell forward onto his chest and sleep overcame her.

Spike held her close and leaned back against the pillows. His feelings for this slip of a girl had changed over the last couple of days. They were bound, the Slayer and the vampire. Destined to travel together to fight for their survival. Both stricken by tragedy yet determined to persevere. They made a good team. And, as he held her close listening to her steady heartbeat, he vowed silently that nothing would ever take her from him.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke first, the Slayer’s body still sprawled out on top of his bare chest. The gaping hole in his torso had closed over, thanks to the swift healing properties of her blood. His eyes gazed down at her still form while she slept. Her warm breath skated over his bare chest as she exhaled, the soft currents wafted over his skin and skimmed across his bare nipple, causing it to harden in response.

As he reclined back against the pillows, one hand slowly stroking her hair, and Spike marveled at how much their relationship had changed over the last few days. No longer were they determined to kill each other. Instead, they now guarded each other’s back as if they had been doing it for centuries.

He felt her stir in his arms and he waited until the last vestiges of sleep subsided and she lifted her head from his chest.

“Hi,” she whispered shyly, still not completely recovered from the recent blood loss.

“Hey yourself, pet. How you feel?”

“Tired…but I’ll be ok. How do you feel? All healed up?” As she asked this, her eyes drifted down to the scar decorating his chest where the stake had once pierced his flesh. Her hand ran over the mark, amazed at how quickly he’d healed.

“Wow! You heal almost faster than I do,” she murmured amazed.

Spike’s eyes closed as her fingers continued to trail across his chest.

‘She doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me.’ He needed to distract her, had to get his mind back on developing a plan of action. But, her hands…oh God, her hands were driving him crazy.

Buffy gazed down at her hand as it roved over Spike’s chest. She was amazed at the coolness of his flesh beneath her palms, in awe at the smoothness of his pale skin as her fingers continued to caress him. She never knew that his duster concealed such a wonderful specimen beneath all that leather…not that she’d seen enough to judge. But, his lean frame was comprised of sleek muscle and Buffy couldn’t seem to take her eyes or hands away from it.

Spike’s eyes popped open as her hands continued to explore his chest. When they started a downward path over the hills and valleys of his six-pack abs, he couldn’t prevent the growl that erupted from the back of his throat. Her hand stilled at the sound, and her head lifted to gaze at his face.

She started to remove her hand, unsure as to why he was suddenly growling at her, but he moved like lightning and gripped her wrist in his hand, holding it in place on his stomach.

“I…I,” she stammered.

“No…don’t stop,” he whispered, slowly releasing his hold on her wrist.

“I…I don’t know what to do…” her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

His hand reached up and tucked a stray lock of her jet-black hair behind her ear. As his fingers trailed along her jaw, her lips parted in surprise at his gentleness. She leaned in to his caress, and moments later, she felt his other hand come up to cup the other side of her jaw slowly urging her lips down to his.

He brushed his lips back and forth across her parted lips, feeling the softness of her lips beneath his. Then his tongue darted out to lick a path around her open mouth. A groan sounded in her ears, and she was surprised to realize that it came from her. If he had been hurried in his quest to take her mouth, she might have resisted. But, as his lips sucked and nipped lightly at her like he had all the time in the world, she was helpless to do anything more than lean into him and beg for more.

Finally his mouth settled over hers, and she practically screamed with delight as his tongued delved within the recess of her mouth to lightly duel with hers. Back and forth, his tongue slid along hers, the slow in and out motion a perfect imitation of what he’d like to be doing with his body. Yet, he seemed in no hurry to move forward…seemed content to just hold her face within his hands as his tongue worked its delicious magic.

Just when Buffy didn’t think she could stand it anymore, his mouth left hers to nibble lightly along her jaw to the ear he had exposed when he’d tucked her hair behind it. She felt his tongue circle the outer shell before his lips closed over the lower earlobe, his blunt teeth nibbling lightly on her flesh. She didn’t know how she had managed to hold herself lifted from his body the entire time he had been kissing her, but as his tongue started worrying the silver stud in her ear, the strength in her arms gave out and she collapsed on top of him.

Spike groaned as the hardened pebbles of her nipples ground into his chest. The rumbling of his mouth caused an answering shiver to course through her body. Needing to feel her body flush against his, he rolled them so that she lay on her back with him nestled between her parted legs. His mouth finally left her ear to nibble his way down the long expanse of her neck.

When he reached the bite mark he had left on her neck, he bit down hard and was pleased when her body arched into his. The heady scent of her arousal was playing havoc with his control, but he quickly reigned in his lust, determined to make this first experience good for her.

His mouth was eager to continue its downward trek along her body, but her shirt was providing an unwanted barrier. Rising to his knees between her legs, Spike pulled her to a sitting position and in one quick motion had her t-shirt pulled up her body and over her head.

Her hands automatically moved to cover herself as her bra-clad chest was exposed to his gaze. His hands gently eased her back against the pillows even as they pulled her arms away from her chest.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes flicking momentarily to amber as he gazed down at her perfection.

She blushed slightly at his words but made no move to cover herself.

His body settled back over the top of hers, his mouth eager to taste the parts of her body lay bare to his gaze. He felt how stiff the Slayer was beneath him, and he took his time – his tongue and lips cascading over her body until he felt her relax once more.

Spike tasted every exposed inch of her body. His blue eyes turned almost black as he watched the Slayer writhe beneath him. A flick of his wrist and a quick tug, and her jeans soon followed the path of her shirt, leaving her clad in only a matching bra and panty ensemble. Then those, too, seemed to fall away, leaving her naked to his gaze. He stood and quickly stripped out of his clothes before making his way back on the bed to stretch out alongside her.

His fingers skimmed along her naked form, delighting in the warmth of her body beneath his fingertips. His hands and mouth worked their magic until she lay writhing next to him. He moved to settle himself between her parted legs, groaning at the contact their bare skin finally touching: hers warm, his a little less so. Then, he was filling her body as she seemed to fill his thoughts and together they began their dance as old as time itself.

The two held each other tightly, lying replete in each other’s arms, each struggling to put in words all that had just transpired. The only sound that broke the silence was their heavy breathing as they slowly recovered. Spike couldn’t seem to stop touching her, his hand running idly down her hair and along the curve of her back as she lay tucked against his side.

“Slayer?” he called softly in the dark.

“Hmmmm?” she mumbled, the sound more of a hum in her throat than an actual word that left her lips. She was so relaxed she didn’t even object to the name he had called her. Shoot, she doubted he even knew her name.

“We should think about getting out of here. We need to stay on the move so the Order can’t track us. How long have we been here anyway? I was a little out of it when I was dragged in here.”

“What time is it?” she asked as she tried to push off from his chest and rise.

Spike felt her rise as she tried to see over him to the clock on the bedside table. He turned to the side and read the digital display to her.

“Eight o’clock.” Apparently, he’d slept longer than normal as his body repaired itself from its last attack.

“Oh, ok. Look, uh… Spike…I got to tell you something,” she began as she sat up clutching the cover to her chest as she looked down at him.

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ he thought. He quirked his brow at her, waiting.

“Well…you see…uh…I figured out why the Order was able to track us so quickly. And…uh…well…”

“It can’t be as bad as all that, Slayer. Spit it out already.”

“I ditched the Desoto.”

Bloody hell!

The silence was deafening and she waited for him to explode. Instinctively, she cringed, ready for him to blast her with “bloody hell’s” and “sod it all’s.”

‘My poor baby,’ he thought, then sighed. She was right. His car had stuck out like a sore thumb, providing an easy target for them to track.

“So, tell me, Slayer…how in the bloody hell did we get here?”

“I stole a car.”

“You nicked a car?!” he exclaimed, incredulous.

She just nodded, blushing slightly.

“I don’t believe it! The bloody Slayer nicked a car!” A wide grin split his face and he looked up at the girl staring down at him. She gave him a tentative smile in return.

“What kind of car? How did you get it? You have to give me the whole story!”

“Well, it was just parked at the curb. The woman left it running and went inside, so I jumped out and drove it around the block. Then, I ran back to the Desoto…easy. We’re now the proud owner of a SUV. I even stole a new set of license plates to put on it.”

Spike just stared at her, feeling somewhat foolish because he felt so proud of her recent criminal activities.

“Bloody marvelous,” he murmured as he sat up in bed. His hand slipped around the back of her neck, and he hauled her close for a lip-bruising kiss. He felt her melt into him, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. As quick as it began, it was over. Spike released her mouth, lifting his head to gaze down at her upturned face.

“Come on, pet. Let’s get dressed and get outta here. We don’t want a repeat performance of earlier today.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. Silently, she nodded at him. Buffy stood up, allowing the cover to fall back to the bed. She quickly gathered the clothes she had been wearing earlier and high-tailed it to the bathroom.

Spike watched her disappear from sight. He stood and quickly dressed, gathering their things together while Buffy got dressed. A few minutes later, they were back in the SUV and driving off into the darkness.


Chapter 7

“What can you tell me about the Order?” Buffy asked several hours later as Spike drove along the nearly deserted highway.

“Assassins. Deadly. Human and demon, alike.”

“Anything else? Giles…” she broke off as she thought about her watcher back in Sunnydale. Shaking her head at the girl she had left behind, her voice hardened as she continued.

“Giles said they date back to the times of King Solomon.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Do you know where they’re based, how you get in contact with them?”

“No, Dru…Dru was the one that knew how to initiate the contract.” he answered. “But, I bet you I know who would.”

“Who?”

“Your Council of Wankers.” He took his eyes off the road to glance over at her.

She was watching him. He could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she attempted to decide on a course of action.

“I guess we’re going to England,” she said finally. “Where’s the nearest airport? No sense driving when we could be flying.”

“Just saw a sign that said El Paso was about 50 miles away. I guess they’d have an airport there.”

“Ok.”

Her eyes turned to the darkened scenery. She leaned her head against the window and attempted to get some rest. She needed to stay sharp if she was going to watch his back during the daylight hours.

~*~*~*~*~

It seemed only moments later that she was being shaken awake by Spike. Her head jerked away from the glass, and she rubbed her neck, figuring that she was probably going to have a stiff neck from sleeping in that position.

“Where are we?” she asked sleepily.

“El Paso. I just wanted to wake you so you wouldn’t wonder where I was in case you woke alone.”

“Where are you going?”

At his pointed look, she just stared at him before her eyes dropped to her lap.

“Oh…”

“I’ll be back, pet.”

She bit her tongue as he let himself out of the vehicle. He needed to feed. She would have offered, but she needed her wits about her – her eyes and ears attuned for the assassins that had been dogging their heels.

Instead, she watched as he ambled towards the biker bar situated in a rough part of town. No wonder he had wanted to wake her; they were “slumming it.” It was a good thing he parked far enough away so as to not draw attention to their vehicle, or more importantly…Buffy sitting inside said vehicle. Spike quickly disappeared from view, and she leaned her head back against the rest while she waited for him to return.