Chapter 2

The file jiggled in the concealed pocket, as Buffy sprinted down the street, taking a shortcut through an alleyway toward the meeting place. Once she turned the corner at a hidden one-way entrance, she slowed her pace and removed the glasses from her face, slipping them into her front pocket. The arranged meeting place was tucked between two high-rise buildings only used for deliveries during the work day. It was the perfect hiding spot for late afternoon when most people were on their commute home.

In the shadows, Spike leaned against the brick building, a cloud of smoke surrounding him. He took one last drag off of his cigarette and flicked it away. Their eyes met, her skin crackled with electricity, pulling her toward him. Stepping up to him, she wrapped her arms around him, nestling her face into his chest. She breathed in a scent that was only his.

“Chain smoke much?” she said, laughing at the carpet of ash and butts on the concrete. A mental image of him pacing back and forth chain smoking with his duster billowing in his haste crossed her mind. Remnants of his worry and frustration lined his blue eyes and clenched his jaw. He rubbed his face and released a breath. Buffy knew had the roles been reversed, she would not have coped as well as he had.

“Were you worried about me?” she said her voice breathy.

Spike looked down at her with his eyebrow cocked. “I couldn’t keep from fidgeting, too much energy bouncing around waiting for you to show. Could’ve used a spot of violence.” Remnants of his frustration seeped into his voice.

He was nothing like Angel, leaving her to make her decisions and letting her handle things the way she saw fit. His support meant everything, even if she was too stubborn to see it sometimes.

“I wish you could‘ve been with me.” She looked up into his eyes and put on a smoldering tone. “You know that, right?”

He sighed and gazed into her eyes. “I know, luv.”

Buffy spoke next. “Maybe I should have gone to Willow and asked.” He raised his finger to her lips and shook his head. “But if I had, you could have gone with me, and not bounced off of the vampire barrier like a freaking basketball. I might not have…”

He looked down at the file poking out of her coat and held his hand out. Buffy passed the file to him and watched as he flipped through its contents. “I’d say everything worked out just fine, luv. No need to worry about me.”

“But the lock picks were too big!” she said. “I had to rip the place apart. For a while, I didn’t think I was going to find anything.” She let her words linger then shook her head.

“And yet here it is,” Spike said, closing the file. Buffy looked away and shook her head. Spike continued. “What’s the problem, Buffy?”

“Getting the file was the easy part. Getting out of there was a different story.”

“It usually is.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” she said clinging to him tighter. “It was like he was expecting me, Spike. He saw me before I even reached his office, but he let me go. And then he was waiting with a guard when I hit the stairwell.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike said, raising his voice and holding her by the arms. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? They’re probably scoping the area right now. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

Before he moved to the car, he gave her a quick but bruising kiss, winking at her before he released her. For a moment she couldn’t move, reaching up to touch the sting of his kiss. If they had been anywhere else, there was no way she would let him walk away, but there wasn’t time.

She got in the car on the passenger side as he shoved the file into the glove compartment. She buckled up as the engine roared to life then moved out of the shadowed alleyway and into the sunlight. For the millionth time, Buffy was happy that Spike had put tempered glass in the car instead of the black spray paint he used on the Desoto. Seeing the road made a surprising difference to his driving style.

They were only a couple blocks away from their rendezvous point when two black vans pulled up behind them, weaving in and out of traffic trying to catch up with them. Spike noticed them in the rearview mirror and told her to hold onto something. In front of them, the traffic light turned yellow, and he floored it, weaving the car around a silver SUV that had slammed their breaks at the last minute. Behind them, one of the black vans ran the red light, barely missing a car that was making its way through the intersection.

“Shit,” Buffy yelled, looking back at the chaos that seemed to follow them.

Spike laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh luv, I’ve been dying to do this, it’s just your bad luck to be with me.”

Wide eyed she responded, “This piece of shit? Hello! The 1980s called, and they want their car back!”

“Oui! I’ll have you know the Grand National was the hot rod of its time,” he smirked. “Hold tight. We’re about to dust these wankers.”

His foot hit the gas pedal, and Buffy was pushed back into the leather seat as the car roared. Spike swung it around the rush hour traffic that had started to wind down. Frowning in concentration, he weaved in and out of traffic, cursing at the idiots that were too busy looking at their cellphones than what was going on around them.

Out of nowhere, a small foreign hatchback popped up. Spike caught it just in time, veering into oncoming traffic. The other van disappeared a few lights back, and Spike told her to keep watch. In all of his years, he said never to count anything out.

Alert and prepared, she kept her eyes on the mirrors ceaselessly monitoring what was in front of them. It was enough to make her dizzy, but the seriousness of the situation kept her grounded and her mind focused on the task at hand.

He turned the wheel sharply, the wheels screeching as he took a sudden corner, barely avoiding the bushes that sat at the edge of the roadway. The van barreled through the landscaping continuing its relentless pursuit.

As they neared another traffic light, a car slowed to a halt in front of them.

Spike slammed on the brakes and swerved out of the lane, narrowly cutting in between two honking cars. He hit the gas once more, powering through traffic.

The game of cat and mouse continued with another close call, their car almost colliding with a mini-van in front of a drugstore chain, but they remained unscathed. Both vans kept up a steady speed, a few times breaking away to take a different route. Spike managed to keep his lead even when the vans reappeared ready to run them off the roadway.

After miles of racing, Spike still couldn’t shake them. The city landscape soon faded into subdivisions and shopping malls, many buildings brand new with leasing signs posted. Sunlight blazed in their eyes, and Buffy wished for sunglasses, anything to help get the spots out of her vision. Spike seemed unaffected instead scanning the road.

A round-about up ahead slowed the cars in front, and Spike cut around them using the breakdown lane. Cars honked, flipping them the bird. He cut in between two merging cars, then took the third right turn. One of the vans managed to follow, but the other was caught by a pickup with a gun rack in its back windshield that refused to let them merge.

Blue signs for Interstate 65 south passed by and Buffy let out a deep breath. Once Spike hit the on-ramp to the interstate, Buffy knew the van didn’t stand a chance of catching them. They were almost home free.

Buffy saw the interstate ramp on the right and relaxed in her seat. But instead of taking the exit like she thought, he passed it up and turned into a subdivision.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Buffy screamed.

“Trust me, luv,” he said, keenly taking in the dingy surroundings. “I know what I’m doing.”

She shook her head and let the argument drop, praying he was right.

The Grand National’s engine roared as he shifted, pulling right onto another side road. The pavement petered out at the end of a row of half-built upper-class homes not quite caught up with the rest of the neighborhood.

Spike maneuvered at top speed around wood frames, the back end sliding out dangerously. Dust clouded the path behind them, making Buffy lose track of the van until a metallic crunch boomed out from behind them.

As she watched, the dust slowly floated away in the breeze to reveal the back end of the van sticking out of a basement foundation. A smile broke across her face, and she squealed in delight. Spike glanced over at her with a shit-eating grin and continued toward a grassy field.

Just when she relaxed a bit thinking they were home free, the other black van appeared in their rearview mirror.

“Spike?” she said, staring out the back window.

“I’m on it,” Spike said, jolting the car into a lower gear and powering into the rolling green fields.

Everything in her was screaming at him to turn around and get back to a road, but she couldn’t make herself divert his attention from the chaos. Clumps of grass and dirt flew up over the side. The car bounced around like a monster truck, her head jiggling to and fro uncontrollably.

Spike crisscrossed sporadically, but the van wouldn’t budge. He tried on the last hit attempt and slammed into it so hard the van bounced onto two wheels. But the van slammed back down and revved harder as if nothing happened.

As they reached the edge of the field, Buffy saw a narrow, gravel road slicing through the green.

“Hold tight!” Spike yelled, snapping the wheel to a hard left, stomping on the clutch and pulling on the handbrake. The car spun, swung round, back wheels locked and sent a spray of gravel into the air behind them. Releasing the clutch and letting the wheel straighten, he slammed his foot on the gas. The car fishtailed before he got it under control, and they sped away down the makeshift road.

A loud thud cracked from behind them. Buffy spun to see the van’s hood dug into the stones, wheels still spinning and smoke pouring out from the broken engine.

“Whooooie!” Buffy screamed in relief, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well that was fun,” he said, easily, before breaking into more laughter. “I guess we should get away from the main roads in case they’ve got others out looking for us.”

“I’m fine with that,” she said, slumping down in the seat and trying to catch her breath.

************

Twenty minutes later, Spike pulled down an old country lane. Overgrown trees covered the gravel road blocking most of what was left of the setting sun. Dead leaves laid on the edge of the road against a barbed wire fence securing a cattle pasture.

They finally turned down a bumpy, dirt path that led to an old abandoned house. Sun-bleached shutters hung by a single nail onto the weathered wooden siding. A hint of what was once white paint covered the single story home in flakes. Spike pulled round the back next to a screened porch ripped to shreds.

Once he pulled the break, Buffy pulled the latch, and the door squeaked open. She stepped out and waited as Spike strode around the car to meet her. She had this feeling that they weren’t out of harm’s way just yet, and she had to be sure.

Spike chuckled, leaning back on the car, and stared up at the house. “I think we lost them, luv,” he said with a smile.

Buffy stared back at him; cheeks flushed, her breathing still heavy. She walked over to him and moved in close.

Spike stood tall, his twinkling eyes staring back at her. He pulled her to him; then his mouth closed over hers.

His soft, cool lips consumed her, seeking, tasting as his fingers threaded through her hair and grabbed a handful her silky strands, pulling her closer. Buffy moaned, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her hands slid down to the hem of his black t-shirt, slipping underneath and stroked his bare muscled stomach. His body hummed with energy, seeping into her skin, spreading over her body in a heady mix of excitement and forbidden lust.

Spike maneuvered Buffy over to the passenger side of the car, and pushed her white lab coat off her shoulders, kissing her neck. His cool breath sent shivers down her spine as she further explored with her hands dangerously low until she felt his hard cock throb. She rubbed aggressively as he strained against her, creating more friction.

Spike’s hands roamed down her hips and up her thighs rubbing her pussy through her black dress pants. Buffy moved with his fingers wishing to feel his magical touch against her bare skin.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he moved higher and unbuttoned her pants.

“I want you,” he muttered, his lips against her ear.

She moaned, her lashes fluttering with anticipation.

He kneeled, and lowered his mouth, kissing her now bare thighs with soft kisses. Once he reached her panties, he ripped them off with a quick tug, his mouth latching onto her as he swirled his tongue along her crease, spreading her lips further apart as he divulged in her warm pink flesh.

Buffy’s head fell back against the car and whimpered, panting trying to keep her leg upright as his tongue relentlessly licked, probing her as her loins twisted in pleasure with each new rub.

It would have driven her crazy if she hadn’t savored it. But she kept pushing him on for more.

“Spike, don’t stop. It feels so good. Yes! Just like that.”

He groaned as he slipped a finger into her, and her moans got louder. He added another finger pulling in and out as he sucked on her clit. Heat built, running through her limbs, Buffy’s cries growing louder as the pressure built until finally the dam broke. She convulsed, the spasms shaking her as Spike tongued her flesh, sucking as he drank her pleasure into him. She leaned all of her weight against the car as the last remaining waves of desire rippled through her.

He pulled away from her with a purely masculine smile, then raked his tongue over his teeth, making her gasp. She couldn’t stop shaking, even after he stood and kissed her deeply as he ran his hands over her breasts.

Buffy reached the top of his pants, pulling the top button free and jerking the zipper down. His erection sprung free, and she wrapped her hands around his girth, stroking him roughly.

“Do you want me, luv?” he asked with a low growl.

Buffy licked his lips.

“Tell me.” He kissed behind her ear, teasing her sensitive skin.

She looked up at him with a sultry smile, “I want you.”

Spiked growled and pushed his duster off and then shifted, lifting Buffy up to straddle his waist. He stared into her eyes for just a second before he thrust deeply inside her. His eyes closed briefly before looking back into her depths and pulling himself nearly all the way out and back in with a single arch of his hips. Spike reached down and grabbed both sides of her hips, pulling her closer, rubbing her against him to coincide with his movements.

Buffy matched his rhythm, rocking her hips with each thrust as she rubbed her clit against him, increasing the friction. She moaned as he drove into her, increasing his pace with each stroke, driving them both toward release.

All she could think was harder-faster, as she clawed at his back, desperate to feel his bare skin. He seemed to sense her thoughts and picked up the pace until she thought she might break in two. Spasms shook her from the inside out as her body convulsed, and finally snapped. Warm heat spread through her, as her pleasure spilled from her. In the distance, she could hear screaming but had no idea where it was coming from. Spike growled, as his whole body trembled as he reached climax, spilling himself inside her.

She clung to him, with her heart beating at a speed that might be dangerous if not for her supernatural abilities. Spike took an unneeded breath and looked at her with a curl to his lips.

“How was that Slayer?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smirked.

Spike pulled out of her, and gently sat her feet back on the ground, then zipped his pants up as Buffy lifted hers and straightened her shirt.

She was about to take a seat on the hood when she saw Spike walk over to the other side of the car and pick something up.

“Do you want these back, or can I keep them as a souvenir?”

Buffy looked closer and saw that he had her ripped underwear in his hand. She snatched them away when a naughty thought popped into her head.

She shoved her underwear into his hands. “Don’t get used to it,” she smirked.

Spike stared at her in shocked as she sauntered back to the car.

Suddenly, a wheezing, groaning sound cut through the moment before a blue box manifested from thin air, appearing next to the house. Stunned, Buffy and Spike stared at the blue door as it squeaked open, and a man with spiky hair and a bright blue suit stepped out.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of what to say, what to do. Spike moved beside her and reached for her when Buffy took a step toward the man.

“My, it has been some time since I’ve been to the States,” he said, looking around absently.

Buffy politely cleared her throat.

The man took in a deep breath, filling his lungs and then let it out with a satisfied sigh. “Ah… it’s been a while, but the place still smells the same.”

Spike piped up from behind Buffy. “Who the bloody hell are you?” he muttered.

The man looked down at Spike. “Well, just look at that hair!” he said, astonished. He stepped away from the blue box and strode toward Buffy’s boyfriend, reaching out a hand. “You must be Spike.” Spike made a noise something like a growl, and the man stopped next to Buffy, and turned and regarded her. “And you must be Buffy.” His voice was different, somehow. All the air of smug superiority gone.

“And you are?” Buffy said.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, gesturing daintily in the air. “And I’m here to fix your mess.”