Disclaimer on the first page

Mortal Enemies

by: Laure Alexander

Part Four

Buffy woke slowly, her eyelids fluttering, then shutting against the hint of light blocked almost entirely by the thick curtains over the one small window. She felt...strange. For a moment, her mind drifted away again, then sensations began to enter her awareness.

Whatever she was lying on was cool and hard, yet strangely contoured. There were unfamiliar twinges in her legs. She felt sticky with more than perspiration...

Suddenly it all came back in a rush and her eyes flew open. Her head rested on Spike's chest, one of her legs was draped across him, her knee pressed lightly against...was that really...OH GOD!

Stifling her instinctive groan and trying not to wake him, she glanced up. Spike's eyes were closed; he wasn't breathing. He looked dead.

The slayer in her yelled 'Find a stake. Do your duty.' Buffy ignored her inner voice and carefully moved off of Spike. Sliding from her bed, she grabbed for a t-shirt, yanking it over her naked body, determined not to think about the events of the previous night.

Slipping from the room, she headed for the bathroom and a long, hot shower. As the water pounded over her, washing away all physical remnants of the night before, Buffy closed her eyes and scrubbed blindly.

Images began to pop into her mind. Mouths meeting in hungry kisses; gentle hands caressing naked skin; cold flesh sliding over hot; his eyes on hers as he thrust deep inside her.

Shuddering, Buffy turned the water off and grabbed a towel, roughly drying herself, trying not to think. Her clean clothes sat unfolded in a basket outside the bathroom door. As she dug out a pair of underwear and shorts to go with the t-shirt, she was glad she didn't have to enter the bedroom just yet.

Dressed and brushing her wet hair she walked silently into the dark main room of the trailer and turned on the window air-conditioner, keeping the thick curtains tightly closed to keep out the heat. Letting the cold air chill her hot skin, she began to think about what she was going to do next.

*****

Late afternoon rolled in with no answers. Buffy had spent the day reliving the events of the previous night, from their first meeting, through their fight, through her emotional breakdown, through his strange tenderness, to...the sex...the wild, passionate, wholly stupid sex.

The last thing she wanted to do was dwell on the sex. Flushed from the erotic memories, it took her a few seconds to realize that someone was knocking on her door. Shaking her head to try to clear it, Buffy rose from the chair she had spent several hours in and winced as her muscles groaned.

Opening the door she found her new friends carrying food and belatedly remembered that she had invited them over for supper.

"Hey!" Janice exclaimed, brushing past Buffy carrying a grocery bag with hot dogs and buns. "You look thrashed. Did we wake you?"

"Um, no. Come on in." Tad and Quinton slipped past her, carrying beer, pop and chips. Shutting the heat outside, Buffy closed the door and turned to her friends. "I kinda forgot I invited you."

"We can leave," Quinton began.

"No, no, I don't want you to leave. I just forgot and the place is a mess..."

Janice gave her a cheerful grin and began to put the food in the fridge as she glanced around the gleaming kitchen. "Spotless as usual."

"You want to come clean our place? It's a dump," Tad said as he opened a beer and flopped on the couch.

Quinton joined him. "Only because you've never lifted a finger to pick up one thing."

Ignoring the boys' argument, Janice found two glasses and poured some diet cola, adding ice from the freezer, then leaned against the counter, sipping hers. Buffy swirled the drink around in the glass for a minute.

"Your mind is a million miles away. Really, Buffy, we can leave."

Buffy glanced up at Janice's sympathetic, friendly face and plastered on a smile. "No. I want you to stay. It's just..."

"Well, well, you didn't tell me we were having company."

Buffy winced at the strong, masculine, cheerful, accented voice coming from the direction of the bedroom.

"Hey man, I'm Tad, this is Quinton and Janice. We brought dinner."

"I can see you did," Spike said, grinning. Buffy spun and glared at him, then set her glass down and hurried over to his side.

"You're up a little early," she said through clenched teeth as she took a hold of Spike's arm. The son of a bitch was wearing only his jeans with the top button undone. Silently she groaned, not wanting to face the inevitable questions... or the reality of what had happened the night before.

"He's a night person," she tried to explain, her fingers digging into Spike's arm.

"I'm Spike, an old friend of Buffy's."

"New in town?" Janice asked as she joined the group in the living room.

"Passing through. Ran into my dear old friend on the bridge last night." Spike pried Buffy's fingers off his arm and slipped his other arm around her waist, pinning her to his side.

Feeling a sudden influx of heat at his touch, Buffy silently cursed her traitorous body and managed to keep herself from stomping on his bare instep. Her eyes widened as Spike's hand slipped down, then patted her on the bottom. "Go get me a beer, that's a luv."

Swallowing her desire to break the flimsy coffee table into handy stakes, Buffy stomped into the kitchen and got a beer from the fridge. Turning back to her friends, she found Spike lounging in the easy chair, well away from the only sunlight which was coming through the kitchen window, chatting about some sport with Tad and Quinton. This was not good.

Handing Spike the can, she retreated to the table where Janice was sitting, gawking at Spike.

"Girlfriend," Janice hissed. "He's gorgeous."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess." Buffy took a big gulp of her drink, hoping it would cool her off--both her anger and her sudden lust.

"You guess? You really are blind, girl."

"Huh?" Buffy mumbled, confused.

"You haven't looked at a guy the whole summer. I figured you had a bad breakup or something. Was it with him?"

Buffy gave her a look of horror at the thought, then turned red as it hit her again just what she had done with her mortal enemy the night before. The images flowed across her mind's eye. His lips on her breast. His cold hands caressing her naked flesh...She groaned and ran her hand over her face. "Oh crap, crap, crap, crap, crap."

Janice patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Men do bring out that feeling in women...I'm gonna ask this one more time. Do you want us to go?"

Buffy grabbed her arm, shaking her head and whispering. "God, no, please. I don't know what the Hell I'm doing anymore. If you're here, maybe I won't do something else totally insane."

"Buffy, dear, your friends want to know how we met."

Inwardly wincing at the playful tone in Spike's voice, Buffy turned her head and replied sweetly. "He told me he was going to kill me so I kicked his ass."

Spike chuckled, but she could see the ice in his eyes. "She's such a kidder." He patted the wide arm of the chair he lounged in. "Come join me, luv. I missed waking up in your arms."

Buffy's eyes shot daggers at him, but she took a seat on the arm of the chair, if only to shut him up. But, Spike wasn't going to let it go at that. He tugged her down onto his lap, forcing her arm around his neck. "I'm gonna kill you," she hissed in his ear.

"Now, now, let's have dinner first," he teased.

Janice headed to the kitchen. "I'll get the hot dogs going. Buffy, where are your pans?"

"In the cabinet next to the stove. I'll come help you."

"No, you stay there with your friend," Janice said with a grin.

Buffy felt herself blushing at the looks Janice was giving her and squirmed a little on Spike's lap. He tightened his hold around her waist. She blushed even more at the feel of something hard poking the underside of her thigh.

"Stop that," Spike murmured into her ear before placing a kiss on the sensitive spot just behind the lobe. As Buffy winced at the sudden surge of lust between her legs, Spike cheerfully turned his attention back to the two young men on the couch. "So, you just travel from town to town, going with the flow, so to speak?"

"Yeah, man, Lawrence is pretty cool in the summer. Winter we try to go someplace a little warmer. Gonna try New Mexico, check out Roswell and all that other weird stuff this Fall," Quinton said smiling, taking sips from his beer, apparently resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Buffy.

Spike nodded in understanding. "I used to do that, travel from place to place. Thought I'd found a place to settle down, but things got a little hot, so I'm on the road again. I have some family in New Orleans, so I'm heading there...well, maybe with a layover here. Lawrence has certain attractions." He leered at the girl sitting very still on his lap and winked at the guys.

Buffy wanted to hit him very badly.

"How may hot dogs do people want?" Janice called from the kitchen. People placed their orders and Tad went to set out dishes and cutlery on the table.

Buffy turned her head and took a hold of Spike's chin as if she was going to kiss him. "Do you want a hot dog, luv?" she asked sweetly.

"Only if it's real dog," he said quietly with a grin.

"Oh, no, pet, you gotta try one. They're made from animal byproducts," she teased, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

Spike frowned and his eyes narrowed. "There's only one animal byproduct I want," he muttered, then kissed her hungrily to shut her up.

Buffy came up for air gasping and Spike grinned, taking a swig of beer. Rolling her eyes, Buffy gave in and relaxed on his lap, hoping the evening would get easier.

CONTINUES