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| Alone No More - Ch. 1 | | | | abc + + + | | | “Where to, pet?”
“It’s time to do a little reconnaissance. Where’s the Watcher’s Council headquarters?”
Beside her, Spike grinned. All seasoned vampires knew the location to the building, but never had one dared to set foot near the place. The rebel in him rose to the challenge. Besides, he liked to live dangerously…it gave his demon such a rush.
With a grin at his unlikely cohort, he raced off into the night, Buffy right by his side.
~*~*~*~*~
“They seem rather arrogant, doncha’ think?” she whispered to Spike as she scanned the building looking for guards.
“’S that stiff British upper lip…think they’re impenetrable to siege.”
“It can’t be that simple…surely they must have some means of keeping you out.” She looked over the simple layout. Tucked away in the countryside, surrounded by a gate that looked intimidating to the common person, yet looked easily passable by someone of her and Spike’s abilities, the Council headquarters sat surrounded by trees and shrubberies. Nice of them to provide a decent cover once they slipped over the fence. Buffy gave Spike a sidelong look and noticed his arched brow.
“What? I’m just saying… there’s no crosses, no garlic…which reminds me…does garlic even work?”
Beside her, Spike just rolled his eyes.
“And, there’s no dogs…nothing. It’s like they think they’re God or something.”
“Bloody wankers,” Spike mumbled under his breath.
“Tell me, not once in all the time you’ve been a vampire… you never tried to get inside the Council’s headquarters.”
“Didn’t wanna waste my time, pet. Much rather seek out the Slayer than the people that thought they ran the show. Knew where the real power lay,” he told her honestly.
“Oh…yeah…I guess so. But still, no one else…no other vampire, or demon, for that matter?”
“Dunno, Slayer. Can’t speak for others. But, you’re right. It does seem kinda easy…and that fence is pretty laughable. Come on, let’s take us a gander around back…see if there’s any guards lurking about.”
The two slipped from their hiding space and skirted the fence that surrounded the building.
“Do you see anything?” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“Smell anything?”
She watched as his human guise slipped away revealing the amber eyes, ridged brow, and fangs that were his demon trademark. Again he shook his head in the negative.
“Then, it’s gotta be the building…something there has got to prevent demons from getting inside.”
“Dunno, Slayer.”
“Well, we’ll just case the place then make our move tomorrow. Besides, we need to grab our bags from their hiding spot and find us a place to crash for the night,” she told him, patting the money belt strapped around her waist.
Side-by-side, the two watched the infrequent comings and goings of the men and women as they went about their duties. Around 1 a.m., they noticed that there was a lull in activity and Buffy decided that would be the best time to slip inside.
“Think we can find what we’re looking for in four hours?” Any longer than that then they had to worry about getting Spike safely out of the building.
“Knowing them, they’ll have a stash of books in a library.”
“And, if they’re anything like Giles, they’ll have it catalogued and cross-catalogued,” she snickered, a brief glimpse of the carefree Slayer she used to be managing to break through.
Spike looked over at her and smiled.
“Right then, let’s go find us a room. We’ll come back tomorrow and nick us some research materials.”
The two black-clad figures slipped away into the night.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike directed the Slayer to a cheesy motel in the Soho district. With their leather and badass attitudes, the two easily blended in to the carefree atmosphere that had come to life as soon as the sun had gone down. Walking beside the Slayer, Spike breathed deeply of the sex and blood permeating the air and licked his lips in anticipation. After he made sure she was safely ensconced in their room, he’d slip off to grab a bite to eat – take in a little night life to secure them some weapons and maybe some more information on the Order.
Buffy hurried up to the window and quickly paid for their room, grabbing some money from her front pocket. She could sense the blond-headed vampire twitching to be off, so she forged their info as fast as possible and snagged the key the proprietor dangled in front of her. She snatched it out of his hand, rolling her eyes at the leer he gave her, and made her way back to Spike.
“Let’s get you all settled for the night, Slayer,” he told her, grabbing the key from her hand as well as the bag she was carrying. She looked ready to drop, the two not having stopped since they left the airport earlier in the evening.
She gratefully conceded the bags and the key and labored up the steps to their room on the third floor. Around her the smell of sex and drugs hung heavily in the air – she ignored them, just like she ignored the occasional screams of passion that could be heard from behind closed doors. Buffy wanted nothing more than to take a shower and crawl into bed.
Spike paused in front of their door, his face shifting to bring forth his demon as he inserted the key.
“Wait here,” he told her, then slipped inside. A few minutes later, he was back announcing, “All clear,” his human mask once more in place.
Buffy nodded and slipped inside. She was grateful he had the foresight to check – she was so damn tired, the Order could have been knee deep inside the room and she would never have known.
Spike dropped their bags on the floor and walked over to the Slayer. Dark circles rimmed her kohl-lined eyes making them appear even more sunken in her pale face. She looked ready to drop on her feet, physically and emotionally, and he was tempted to forgo feeding for the night to keep an eye on her. He moved to pull off his duster to do just that, but her words forestalled him.
“No, Spike. You need to go. I’ll be alright. Just gonna shower and go to bed.”
“You sure, pet. I could stay. Just till you fell asleep.”
“No…the quicker you go…the better chance you have of getting some more information for us. It’s ok. I’ll be alright.”
“Alright, pet. I won’t be far.”
She nodded at him and moved off towards the bathroom. Spike silently let himself out of the room and set about securing himself some dinner.
~*~*~*~*~
He’d gotten no further than the alley before he found his first meal. Images of the three men beating on his Slayer played before his mind as he listened to the sounds of a man being beaten and robbed. Allowing his demon to slide forth, he slipped into the darkened alley and made quick work of the defenseless man’s attacker.
Licking his lips clean, Spike left the crying man where he lay huddled against the wall and moved out of the alley. He walked in the direction of the nearest bar and hoped he’d find someone inside that could provide him with weapons and information.
He easily fit into the crowd of the club, leather being the prerequisite form of attire. Wary of the crowds and their ease in concealing potential Order assassins, he made quick work of getting the things he needed. So, it wasn’t but a couple of hours later that he was returning to the room he shared with the Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike placed the weapons he had managed to acquire that night on the table next to the bed. He gaze roamed over the huddled figure of the Slayer as she lay on one side of the mattress beneath the covers. Since he’d been back, he’d noticed her slipping deeper into sleep, finally able to relax her guard now that he was nearby.
He quickly stripped, tossing his jeans and t-shirt onto a chair and slipped into bed beside her – not surprised when his bare body encountered her own naked frame. There was no point in them wearing clothes, they’d just end up stripping them off of the other sometime during the early morning as they took what comfort they could in physical contact.
He had no illusions that she cared for him, right now she needed him, and he made her forget for just a little while. But, there were times when he thought that she saw him…him…not just a replacement lover, someone that gave her comfort and made her feel. It was those moments he’d come to crave.
And, if he really thought about it, he couldn’t say why. She was the enemy; they’d only formed a truce as their need for survival overcame their hatred for the other. Maybe it had started in the sewers of Sunnydale, as they’d looked out for each other as they tried to stay one step ahead of the Order.
Things had just seemed to progress from there.
Not wanting to dwell on his wayward thoughts, he pulled the Slayer close and attempted to sleep. She rolled over, facing him, her head coming to rest on his arm as she slipped her own around his back. Sighing contentedly, she drifted back into a deep sleep.
Wrapping his arms around her back, he too, drifted off to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy tried to twist her body…increase the contact of her skin against his. She need more, now. And harder. It had to be harder. But he ignored her, and her need. She whimpered, ready to beg. Her body was held, suspended over the precipice, ready to fly. But he wouldn’t let her. His slow movements were bringing her no release…just building her higher and higher.
She wanted to fall, to seek the final destination she could only find with him. She struggled to reach for it, pulling him closer to her…tighter. A groan escaped from her parted lips as she felt him finally lie flush against her fevered body.
“Spike…” Her eyes fluttered open as dreams were pushed away and reality intruded.
He shifted her to her back and thrust deep when he noticed she was there with him; her back arched, her head thrust back into the pillow when he finally gave her what she wanted…needed.
“More,” she panted. Spike complied, increasing his thrusts and grinding his pelvic bone against her swollen clit. She keened her delight, gripping him tightly to her. In answer, he thrust harder, deeper.
Her hands slipped to his ass – urging him even faster as her fingernails dug into the smooth, pale flesh and left crescent marks on the surface. He groaned, licking his lips as he felt his canines extend, watched with amber colored eyes the rapid beating of her jugular as it pulsed with her excitement.
His eyes closed as he felt her inner walls clamp down on his cock as her orgasm rushed through her body. His head lowered to her neck and he struck, sinking his fangs deep, drawing her enriched blood into his mouth. He moaned as he tasted and swallowed greedily the sweet elixir only she could provide. Beneath him, he felt her arch into him as the pleasure-pain became too much.
She clutched him tightly – her blunt nails digging so deep that she broke the skin on his back – as her second orgasm caused her body to tremble, and Spike could no longer hold back his own. Her pussy massaged his length as he buried himself to the hilt, and then he was filling her grasping channel with his release, a hoarse, “Slayer” bursting from his lips as he tore his canines from her throat. Thoroughly spent, he collapsed on top of her, mindful to lick the oozing wounds closed.
He felt her sigh as her arms moved from his ass, up along his back, holding him close as he nuzzled her neck. She didn’t seem to mind his weight, and lay on top of her as he laved his marks with his tongue until he felt her breathing even out once more, indicating her slumber. Finally, he rolled off of her and pulled her close, and he too, drifted off to sleep.
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| Alone No More - Ch. 2 | | | | abc + + + | | | The sound of crying, muffled amidst the cadence of the shower, pulled him from a fitful sleep. He rolled over, squinting towards the lone window as the sun attempted to pry its way around the edges of the thick curtains covering it. Flopping onto his back as the barely-distinguishable sounds of her wails reached his ears, Spike fisted his hands at his side in frustration.
There was just something about the broken Slayer’s weeping that struck a cord in his unbeating heart. He frowned, growling in frustration. What was it to him if she bawled in the bathtub? He was evil. He could care less about her tears! She was just a good fuck until the two of them defeated the Order. Hell, then they’d probably have that last dance…add another Slayer to his notch.
And, therein lay the rub.
She wasn’t just an easy lay, a willing body.
There was something about her willingly giving him her blood that seemed to erase all of the mortal enemy barriers between the two. They’d gone into this quest as reluctant partners, but as the days played out, they’d seemed to rely more and more on the other, trusting that the other would keep them safe when they were at their most vulnerable.
After almost losing her to those three attackers back stateside, he’d become very possessive of the Slayer – looking out for her like she was his.
Disgusted with himself for feeling this way, and at the Slayer for making him feel this way, Spike threw himself out of bed and stalked naked towards the bathroom. The door stood partially open, probably so she could hear if someone were to discover them again, and he pushed it open, ignoring the steam that enveloped him as he stepped inside. His gaze locked on the petite form of the slayer as she stood under the shower, her arms braced against the wall in front of her, her body shaking as she sobbed.
Growling again at his softening feelings, Spike shoved the translucent curtain aside and climbed in behind her. His arms lifted, enabling him to clasp her shoulders to turn her around and pull her body towards his. He felt her stiffen at the contact – tears momentarily suspended in surprise. Then, her body nestled against his in a comforting embrace and his unexpected compassion restarted her weeping.
In the shower, the two mortal enemies clung to one another as the Slayer gave in to her grief.
When the water started to run cold and the last of the shudders wracking the Slayer’s slim frame faded away, Spike reached behind her and cut off the taps. His gentleness surprised him as he dealt with the Slayer – easing out of her grasp to snag some towels from the metal rack and wrapping them around her dripping body – and he told himself he just wanted her to stop with her incessant sniveling so that he could actually get some more rest. She wasn’t the only one pulling long hours of wakefulness, senses attuned to the slightest ripple that appeared out of place. Frankly, his reserves were on low and he needed the restorative healing a deep slumber provided. And he repeated that litany to himself as he swept her pliant form up into his bare arms and resettled them into bed.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy woke a few hours later and carefully disentangled herself from the vampire’s protective grasp. Rising from the bed, she turned and watched his unnaturally still form as he slept on. His permanently evil countenance appeared nonexistent as he rested, his features soft as if that of an angel. Sinful thoughts to be sure, especially given what he was. But, as she gazed at him, sleeping so peacefully, he appeared almost human.
A strange pang centering in her abdomen brought her from the silent musing of her reluctant partner, and she gazed down at her naked frame in confusion. It took her a moment to realize that it was hunger pains making themselves known. Her eyes widened in shock that she was actually hungry. Hungry. As in, all-you-can-eat buffet, wheel-me-out-when-I’m-done kind of hungry.
Hurriedly dressing in the new clothes of her “goth-ish” look, Buffy grabbed the key and made her way out of the apartment and down to the streets of Soho.
~*~
She’d never traveled outside of California, so the trip across the ocean to London was an eye-opening experience. At another time, in another life, she would have fully appreciated the sights and sounds that assaulted her senses and enjoy playing tourist in a different land. But, things were different.
She wasn’t that girl anymore.
She was on the hunt with an evil vampire as her sole companion.
Steely resolve stiffening her spine, Buffy set off to find food while surreptitiously examining the area for possible Order assassins. Figuring a bar would be the best place to keep a low profile, the Slayer walked along the streets until she located one that seemed to cater to her “crowd.” Ironically, it was the same place Spike had visited the night before.
No one paid the girl any mind, especially after she put someone almost twice her size – and a little on the drunk side – out of commission by stopping the hand that reached towards her body. Having grabbed his wrist and twisting it behind the behemoth’s back, she'd pinned him to the wall before he even had a chance to voice a protest.
Buffy never opened her mouth to protest his attempted manhandling, but the sinister way she raised his arm behind his back, nearly causing it to pop from its socket, clearly conveyed her message.
Don’t fuck with me, and we’ll get along fine.
A whimpered apology sprung from his lips, and Buffy released his arm, slightly shifting her shoulders so that her jacket would resettle around her frame. She walked off without a backward glance, ignoring the looks she received. As long as no one approached her, they could look all they wanted.
She just wanted food, possibly information, and maybe even the means to more weapons. But, she had to have the food.
Settling herself in a darkened corner, her back to the wall so that no one could sneak up behind her, the Slayer waited patiently until a barely-clad waitress made her way over to her table. Buffy's eyes continually scanned the club’s occupants while she waited and easily dismissed them all as being human and not deserving of her attention.
Setting the menu down in front of her, the waitress smacked her gum while asking for her drink order. Buffy glanced up at the girl and cringed. The redheaded waitress sported enough piercing to play connect the dots across her face. Clad in clothes similar to hers, although far more revealing, the girl shifted from hip to hip as she waited for Buffy to answer.
“Water, and bring a pitcher.”
If the waitress thought the request was unusual, she didn’t voice any complaint. The Slayer was playing it smart. Without Spike at her back, she needed to be wary of any liquids she ingested – especially in this district – with all the date rape drugs that probably abounded in the area. Water was the most difficult liquid to drug because you could tell right off if someone had tampered with it. So, she’d stick with it.
As the redheaded girl walked away, Buffy glanced through the menu, not really understanding the native lingo. Her eyes honed in on the fish and chips and figured it would be a safe bet to order.
Her water suddenly appeared and Buffy quickly drained a glass before giving her order. That, too, came surprisingly quick. The sheer volume of food unnerved her, but as the minutes ticked by, the pile shrank until nothing but crumbs remained. Apparently, her appetite was back in full force, if the empty plate were any indication. With a satisfied smack to her lips, she leaned back in the booth and once more scanned the few occupants still lingering in the bar.
Again, no one tripped her Slayer senses and she left enough money on the bar to cover the tab and a sizeable tip. Rising to her feet, Buffy exited the building and wandered down the sunny streets, taking a circuitous route back to the motel in case she may have picked up any unwanted stalkers.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy let herself into the room just as the sun started to set in the sky. Her eyes strayed immediately towards the bed where Spike’s blue eyes pinned her in place. She’d obviously woken him with her approach, a natural predator responding to a possible threat to his home. Seeing that it was only she, his taut frame relaxed back into the bed, his arms folding behind his neck as he watched her enter the room. His knowing eyes roamed her body, noting the lack of fatigue that had been a constant companion since their headlong escape from Sunnydale since…was it only just a few days ago?
With complete lack of modesty, Buffy stripped out of her clothes and climbed into bed beside Spike. Sated from a hearty lunch, she murmured a drowsy, “Wake me at midnight,” before drifting off to sleep. Much to the bemusement of Spike.
His lips curled into a smile at the Slayer before he slipped from the bed to don some clothes. Once dressed, Spike paused at the door of their room to glance back at the slumbering girl. He ignored the hunger that made its presence known as he gazed down at her relaxed body.
The bit of crying she’d done in the shower must have helped. No longer did she appear just a shell of her former self. Small bits of the brazen, spunky Slayer seemed to be shining through. And, Spike was glad to see her starting to appear more like her normal self. Turning away, he let himself out – with the forthcoming breaking and entering the two had planned for later on this evening, he’d need to top off his blood reserves to make sure that he was more than ready to deal with whatever might come their way.
As night enveloped the Soho district, Spike breathed deeply of the sin and sex that permeated the area and provided him with such ripe pickings. With a badass attitude and a swagger in his step, he blended into the crowds to hunt for dinner.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 3 | | | | abc + + + | | | A cool hand on her bare shoulder pulled her from a light sleep, for once, free from the horrible nightmares that had seemed to plague her. She knew it was him before she even rolled to her back, her body instinctively trusting that he’d keep her safe while she slept. Brushing off the last vestiges of sleep she peered up at his somber blue eyes that seemed to twinkle with the prospect of sticking it to the Council of Wankers – as the vampire was wont to call them.
“It’s time,” he whispered to her, the room still bathed in darkness.
She nodded once, sweeping the covers off of her bare body and coming to her feet in one swift movement. Rifling through her bag, she pulled out clothes that would help her blend in with the dark surroundings, donning them with haste whilst the vampire paced back and forth, restless energy permeating from his lean frame.
Once she was finished and had settled her jacket around her shoulders, she glanced over towards her partner and couldn’t suppress the slight smile that graced her pale features. He paused in his pacing, sensing her regard, and turned enquiring eyes towards her, his scarred brow raising in silent query. Buffy just shook her head at the gesture, and surprised at herself as a slight chuckle burst past her lips.
Spike cocked his head to the side and watched the Slayer laugh, couldn’t prevent his own answering grin from forming.
“Ready, pet?”
“Yep. Time to pay the Council a visit.”
The two slipped out of their room and into the night, taking a roundabout route to the Council’s headquarters – backtracking often – to prevent from being followed. Once assured that there was no possible way someone could be tailing them, they closed in on the building and waited.
Slayer and vampire settled in to wait until the lull in activity consumed the building. A stillness came over them as they regarded their ultimate objective – neither moving nothing more than their eyes as they constantly scanned the perimeter, their senses attuned to anything out of the ordinary.
Finally, all lay quiet and Buffy signaled to Spike that it was time. A slight nod in response, and the two rose to cross swiftly to the tall wall surrounding the building. Spike turned so that his back was to the wall, legs braced apart as he bent at the knees. He cupped his hands and at a nod to the Slayer, she ran towards him, jumping at the last moment so that one of her feet landed into his joined hands, enabling him to easily vault her over the wall.
His head lifted and he watched as she sailed through the air, arms and legs outstretched like she were flying, before she tucked herself into a ball to land on the other side. He heard the soft sound she made as her feet made contact with the grass and waited for her to announce that it was safe for him to join her.
Her whispered assent floated back towards him, and he took about ten steps away from the wall before running and easily hurtling himself over the top. Landing on his feet in a crouched position, unmoving but for his head, his amber gaze swept back and forth. Ears were attuned for any disturbance on the air, a sign that someone had noticed their presence. He glanced briefly at the Slayer, assuring himself that she was all right after her acrobatic stunt and watched as she slipped from the shadows and came to stand beside him.
He rose to his feet by her side and by unspoken command the two raced towards the building using the numerous trees as cover. Finally gaining the side of the building, they pressed their backs up against the wall and waited. Again, Spike's preternatural hearing didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary, and he motioned for the Slayer to start making her way towards the front door.
They crept along in silence, weaving in and out of the shrubbery as they avoided the numerous windows that dotted the building. All too soon, they were at the front door, and both stilled once more to see if anyone, or anything, seemed to notice their presence.
After about ten minutes of silence, Buffy signaled for Spike to wait, and she stepped in front of the door and tried the knob. Naturally, it was locked, but the Slayer spared no time employing her strength to twist the handle off into her hands, thus gaining herself entry to the building. She pushed the door open and breathed a silent sigh that the door hinges were well oiled and quiet.
She felt Spike step up behind her and took two steps over the threshold and waited. No alarms sounded and Buffy was left to wonder why the Council seemed to leave their sacred headquarters so unguarded. Motioning for the vampire to follow her, she started walking down the long, narrow hallway.
Spike took a step and slammed into the invisible barrier guarding the building. Now he knew why there were no guards. They’d employed an invite spell, something that he couldn’t get around.
“Bloody hell! Slayer,” he hissed quietly. His hand appeared to rest against the open doorway as he tried to call her back to his side.
Buffy glanced over her shoulder and nearly groaned with frustration. She hurried back to Spike as he pushed against the barrier to show her that he was locked out.
“Shit! Now what are we supposed to do? I have no idea what I’m looking for…” she complained to the blond-headed vampire.
“Dunno, pet,” he replied, trying in vain to get past the barrier.
“Damn, it’s not like I can say ‘come in, Spike’ and have… you…” her voice trailed off as said vampire sprawled out on the floor in front of her having suddenly lost his means of support. She bit her bottom lip to suppress the bubble of laughter working its way up her throat at the vision of him windmilling his arms as he lost his balance played out in front of her.
Cussing a blue streak under his breath, Spike surged to his feet, giving her a sinister look that promised all kinds of retribution once they were gone from this place. Her eyes widened innocently, teeth still firmly latched onto her bottom lip, but her eyes sparkled with unshed mirth, something the vampire noticed right off.
His eyes narrowed on her with a mock scowl and muttered a gruff, “Come on, Slayer.”
Stealthily, the Slayer and vampire made their way around the first floor, quickly deciding that the library must be on one of the upper levels – there were nothing but offices on the first, and unimportant ones at that.
They doubled back to the staircase near the front door and silently slipped up the carpeted steps. At the top, the two split up to cover more ground, one going left while the other went in the opposite direction. Halfway down the hallway, Buffy hit the jackpot. Opening the door, she noticed all four walls were lined with shelves, groaning under the weight of the numerous books of indiscriminate age. There were even bookshelves stacked back to back forming several aisles on the far side of the room. A huge conference table sat a few feet inside the door, most likely a place for the watchers to research.
She leaned back out of the room and gave a low whistle, just loud enough for the vampire to hear and come towards her. Then, she slipped inside the room to gape at the massive amount of books, dreading with a passion the coming task.
‘Giles would be right at home here.’
The thought brought a wistful smile to her features. She felt a movement behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Spike slip through the door and softly close it behind him. Buffy glanced at a small set of drawers off to the side and she walked over and opened one.
“Oh, look. They even catalogued it for us. How nice.” Her soft voice was saccharinely sweet. She heard the vampire snort as he neared.
She shut the drawer, and opened the first one, marked “A,” maybe for assassins. Opening it, she turned to Spike and told him about what Giles had said regarding the order.
“Look under ‘K’ for King Solomon. I remember that’s what he said the order dated back to. Then, we can try the ‘O’ and ‘T’ for index files and see if they have anything under Order and Taraka. And if you can think of anything else,” Buffy told him.
The two worked quickly, accumulating a small pile of books for them to go through once they finished gathering what they thought might be helpful – a prospect Buffy loathed with every fiber of her being. But, with a worthy cause, she figured she could turn into a bookworm for a few days.
When they were finally finished, a stack of nearly twenty books sat on the table. Rather than read them there, the two quickly split the pile in half and gathered the dusty tomes in their arms. As silently as they arrived, the two disappeared into the night.
Getting the books over the wall appeared to be a problem until Spike placed the books on the ground and shrugged out of his duster; using it as a sack of sorts, he placed the books inside then wrapped his coat around them and secured them with the coat's sleeves. He picked the bundle up and lightly tossed it over the wall. Buffy, seeing his intent, quickly followed suit, and a second thud was heard moments after the first.
Spike turned towards the Slayer, clasping his hands to form a step so that he could help the her back over the wall. Buffy stepped towards him, bracing her hands on his shoulders momentarily before being vaulted in the air. She landed with a soft thud and had no sooner grabbed her jacket filled with books that Spike landed beside her and bent over to pick up his own duster.
Glancing around to make sure they weren’t noticed, or followed, the two disappeared into the night, again using an alternate route to gain their motel.
Upon reentering their temporary living quarters, Spike advised her that they should pack up and move to a new location – two nights in the same place was just inviting trouble and they needed someplace away from the fast-paced district in which to do their research. Buffy agreed, and thirty minutes later they’d gathered their things and left the motel without a backward glance.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 4 | | | | abc + + + | | | Spike wandered around London for a bit, his companion silent at his side, trying to think of a safe place to go. Once the Council realized some of their precious books had been nicked, they’d seal off all exits to the city in their pursuit of the thieves – nothing overt, just an invisible presence to watch over everyone entering and leaving the city. Better to be away from here and settled someplace for an easy escape.
They eventually made their way to the rail stations and the vampire paused to peruse the map for likely destinations, assessing and rejecting places they might go. His eyes finally focused on Dover, and he mentally weighed the pros and cons of the seaside city before he gestured for the Slayer to follow him towards the ticket booth.
“Two tickets to Dover,” Spike told the man behind the counter.
The elderly man looked up as the accented voice reached his drowsy ears, before widening momentarily at the two people standing in front of him. He nodded in response, for once grateful for the bulletproof glass separating him from the masses. Rattling off the price, he waited, and surprisingly, the blonde-headed man forked over the money without hesitation.
“The train doesn’t leave until 5:30, with boarding beginning an hour beforehand. You’ve got about thirty minutes to kill before then,” he told the man – instantly regretting the “kill” word choice as soon as it left his lips – as he passed over the two tickets. His attention was diverted by the woman at his side, who, for someone dressed as outlandishly as the former, had a soft-spoken voice that eased his trepidation.
“Is there a bathroom around here?”
“Yes, miss. Behind you, there’s a corridor, and you’ll find the facilities on your right.”
“Thank you,” she replied before turning to her companion. They seemed to communicate silently before he nodded and watched her walk away.
“Thanks, mate,” Spike told the elderly man as he placed the tickets in an inside pocket of his duster, grabbed his bags, and moved to follow his companion.
The man behind the counter released his pent up breath, and for some strange reason, felt that he’d somehow managed to escape death.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy made quick work of the facilities, afterwards standing before the mirror secured over the faucet while she washed her face and hands. The tinglies she felt along her back told her that Spike had stopped outside the door and taken up a sentry position. It was almost comforting, those tinglies she got when he was nearby. Like a constant security blanket she’d come to associate with his presence. It was when she didn’t feel them that she seemed on edge, was unable to relax her guard that had her body strung tight as if moments from snapping.
Snagging a paper towel from the dispenser, she wiped off her damp face and stared at the image in front of her. Physical exhaustion shone in her eyes, but the deep emotional pain that she’d been experiencing appeared to be lifting. No longer were her eyes quite so haunted. But the vengeance was still there…along with a small bit of excitement.
Figuring she’d stalled long enough, she chucked the used paper towel in the trashcan and let herself out of the bathroom.
Spike was leaning up against the wall, one foot lifted as a brace against the structure. A lit cigarette dangled from between his lips in complete defiance of the posted ‘no smoking’ sign. A habit that was bad to the core, yet somehow, he just made it seem remarkably sexy.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here before we get kicked out.”
A smirk and a cocked brow was his only response to her snarky comment, but he didn't argue as he pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed the remaining bag from its place on the floor, following behind her as she practically marched out the door to wait until they were able to board their train.
Spike watched her huff off, taken aback by her sudden feistiness. Before she’d gone into the bathroom, she’d been near exhaustion once again, as neither of them had settled into a normal sleeping pattern, just taking snatches here and there. But, she’d come out of the bathroom, taken one look at him, and he watched as her weariness seemed to evaporate without a trace. Then he smelt it…just a faint trace of her arousal wafting over his senses.
‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
~*~*~*~*~
Spike and Buffy were the only ones waiting when they were finally granted permission to board, thus allowing them to pick their seat. Deciding on a back corner location – away from the majority of windows and right near an exit door in case they needed to make a fast getaway – Buffy slid into the seat nearest the window and pulled down her shade and the one a row ahead, placing her bag on the floor space in front of her. Spike slid in next to her after a quick reconnaissance of the cabin.
He turned to glance at the Slayer, noting once again, the borderline exhaustion emanating from her frame now that she had something semi-comfortable to lean back into.
“C’mere, kitten,” he urged, putting his arm around her shoulder and easing her to lay with her head in his lap. He was surprised when she didn’t protest, just did as he asked and closed her eyes.
Spike watched her while she slept, occasionally running his fingers through her hair. As people began to filter into the cabin, he eyed them carefully. He didn’t think that the Order had been able to find them yet, but with the theft of the Council’s books, he wouldn’t put it past them to have employed the same methods as the watchers. So, right now, until they’d safely left London behind, they were in danger. The hour crept by and the seats started to fill, most of the passengers spreading out to take advantage of the near-empty train to sleep for the hour and a half ride it would take them to reach their destination. Spike was happy to feel the wheels start to move, taking them away from the Council, away from the danger he'd felt as they'd wandered about London.
~*~*~*~*~
Thunderstorms greeted their arrival into Dover, having overtaken the train just outside London, something that had the vampire deeply grateful. He’d not been sure how they were going to manage arriving at the coastline city. But, it was the one advantage the two of them held over the people seeking them out – Spike wasn’t afraid to move around during the day.
He glanced down at the slumbering Slayer, gently shaking her awake as the train came to a stop. His eyes never left the passengers who quickly grabbed their things and departed. Spike felt the Slayer stretch beside him as she took in their new surroundings.
“What time is it?” she questioned sleepily.
“’Prolly gone about 7a.m.” he responded. “Come on. Let’s get outta here and find us a place to hole up for the day.”
Spike reached down and easily palmed the bag weighted down with the majority of books they’d nicked from the Council, standing with a fluid grace and exiting their row. Buffy grabbed her own bag and moved to follow him, ignoring the sore muscles in her legs as she walked down the aisle in back of him, then out into the downpour.
They hurried towards the first hotel they came across, racing inside to keep the flammable vampire from turning to dust on the off chance the cloud cover disappeared. The hotel clerk looked up questioningly, but at a glance at the rain dripping off their frames, nodded in understanding.
“We need a room, please,” Spike told the woman behind the counter, running his hand through his hair to bring some semblance of order to the now-curly locks. They ignored his attempts and bounced back into place, causing him to groan.
“Yes sir, just a moment,” she replied, ignoring the man’s vexed look. Personally, she thought he should leave the curls alone; it gave him a softer, sexier appeal. She took his passport and entered his information into the computer then handed him a key while she gave him directions to his room.
Vampire and Slayer walked off, grateful to be that much closer to a bed and some much-needed sleep. On the ride up the elevator, both had come to the conclusion that no research was going to be accomplished until they’d both slept for several hours. And, it was with a weary sigh the two slipped out of their clothes – after securing the curtains over the window – and climbed beneath the sheets, instinctively reaching for the other before drifting off into sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike nuzzled the Slayer’s neck as he woke, his arms locked securely around her middle. Slightly ravenous because he’d not fed since before they’d nicked the books from the Council – partly because he’d not wanted to wander off, and leave the Slayer, to do it – he couldn’t prevent his face from shifting as he felt the strong beat of her artery as his tongue traced along the structure.
He needed a little something to take the edge off, at least until he could escape into the night for a proper feeding. And, she’d already accepted his bite before.
One cool hand slipped down along her bare thigh, curling under her leg and pulling it back to drape over his thigh, exposing her, more fully, to his questing hand. Once satisfied she wasn’t going to move her leg from the position he’d placed it, Spike inched his hand away from her leg and towards the coarse curls covering her mound, gliding one finger back and forth along her slit and coating his digit with her body’s unconscious response. She stirred in her sleep but did not waken to his ministrations, even though she arched into his touch.
As his finger slipped between her folds, Buffy bucked into his hand, Spike’s name, a whispered sigh escaping her lips. His finger delved into her hot center over and over, quickly adding a second and a third as her body’s increased secretions eased his entry. Her hips began to buck in response and he found that he couldn’t wait any longer.
Replacing his fingers with his cock, he slid home, burying himself within her velvet heat, gripping her hip with his hand to keep her from moving. He growled low in his throat, the feel of her liquid fire encasing his shaft enough to send him over the edge with barely a handful of thrusts. His fangs nuzzled her neck as he tried to rein in his body’s response at being buried to the hilt within her slick pussy.
When he felt he could actually move without spilling his seed prematurely, Spike started a slow, gentle thrusting of his hips. He took his time, wanting the in and out motion of his length within her body as a distraction for when he finally slid his fangs in her neck. Done properly, she’d barely feel the biting sting of his second penetration. And, if she was as responsive as he thought she was going to be, she’d actually enjoy it and be brought to an earth-shattering orgasm.
He could feel the Slayer rousing from her slumber as the sensations at her core became too great for her to sleep through. His hearing picked up her increased heart rate, the breathy moans as he repeatedly slid in and out of her slick channel. He felt the tension radiate outward along her legs, indicating her pending climax. Spike felt his balls tighten as he neared his own release, and knew it was time.
He could control himself. Take just enough of her blood to tide him over and let the Slayer slip back into slumber.
“Come for me, pet,” he whispered in her ear before, with agonizing slowness, he pierced her flesh with his canines, and began swallowing her delicious Slayer’s blood.
Buffy cried out his name, her inner walls clamping down on his cock as her body responded to the dual penetration – her head arched back, driving his fangs even deeper. She heard him groan into her neck, felt his other arm that had been tucked under her upper back bend, enabling him to grip the underside of her jaw, holding her in place as he went even deeper, pleasure giving way to pain.
She didn’t care. It felt so damn good, his near-violent possession, and she gasped, caught completely unaware by the second orgasm rushing through her body – the force of it taking her breath and leaving her in a quivering mass of aftershocks.
The Slayer’s second orgasm was Spike’s undoing. He’d barely hung on the first time as her vaginal walls milked his shaft when she climaxed. There was no way he’d be able to hold out through the second one, especially with her blood sliding down his throat.
He tore his mouth from her neck as he shouted his release, his cock flooding her with his seed, and he continued to pump inside her core until he was spent. Finally, he stilled, draping himself around her warm, slick body and lovingly licked the deep marks he’d made on her neck closed.
Spike wasn’t surprised at the rumbling that seemed to bubble up from his chest. Although no words had been spoken, his demon had asserted its claim on the Slayer and now seemed to practically purr in contentment. He felt her snuggle closer as she drifted off to sleep, the bloodletting and sexual satisfaction going a long way towards lulling her body back into slumber. His arms tightened about her for a moment before he reluctantly pulled back and slipped from the bed.
They weren’t getting any closer to the Order by sleeping the day away. He’d take a quick shower and start going through the Council of Wanker’s books to see if they had any information that would help them track the origins of the Order of Taraka, and possibly reveal their – for want of a better word – headquarters.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 5 | | | | abc + + + | | | She knew she was alone in the room the moment she opened her eyes, her body instantly awake and alert for any noise out of the ordinary. The lack of light around the edges of the curtained windows told her that it was late, her body surprisingly refreshed after having slept the day away.
A glance around the room showed her that Spike had already gotten started on the research, several books open and spread out on top of the small table. He’d no doubt gotten hungry at some point and slipped out into the night to feed. Not her problem. Out of sight, out of mind. She wasn’t going to worry about the actions of one vampire, or really any, for that matter. Her soul purpose for being, the cause that kept her moving, was revenge.
An eye for an eye.
Only, she wanted the whole body. The entire Order would pay for daring to take something from the Slayer.
Buffy threw the covers off of her and slipped from the bed; her eyes noted the time – a little past midnight – and figured that was why her stomach was rumbling. She’d slept for almost sixteen hours straight. Walking over to the table, she peered down at the contents of one of the books before turning her nose up. There was no way she was going to be able to function without a shower and some food. She turned to grab a fresh set of clothes and noticed a bag on top of the dresser; beside it was a note in, what she guessed, was Spike’s handwriting.
Slayer –
Drink the juice. All of it. There are some snacks for you to munch on until I get back with your dinner. It’s about ten now, shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.
Spike
She fingered the bag and looked inside. Her hand closed over the sixty-four-ounce bottle of orange juice, pulling it from the bag in astonishment. He wanted her to drink the whole thing? Then she remembered. He’d bitten her. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her hand automatically going to her dark hair and pulling it out of the way. Two neat puncture wounds marred the left side of her neck.
Buffy released her hair, allowing the raven-colored tresses to settle around her shoulders and hide the fresh marks. Rather than analyze what she may or may not feel about Spike biting her, she popped the top on the plastic container and took a healthy swig of the juice. The lukewarm fluid was surprisingly refreshing and she almost finished off the container before she realized it. Capping the lid, she saved the rest for when she had a candy bar after her shower.
~*~*~*~*~
When Spike let himself into the room, the Slayer was sitting at the table, her feet curled beneath her as she buried her nose in a book. His eyes unconsciously roamed over her frame, looking for any minute sign of ill effects of him feeding from her earlier. He chalked his concern up to his demon’s possessiveness, refusing to dwell upon his growing feelings for the slip of a girl in his company. And, he was pleased to note that the jug of juice he’d purchased for her sat empty on the table, next to a discarded candy wrapper.
“Is that my dinner I smell?” the Slayer asked him, eyes never leaving the page she was reading.
“Yep. Wasn’t sure how long you were gonna sleep, and I didn’t want to wake ya.”
“Awww, Spike. I didn’t know you cared.” Secretly she smiled. Who knew the Big Bad had a soft spot?
“I don’t. Don’t kid yourself…just lookin’ out for me own in’trests. Wouldn’t do to have the one person guardin’ my back not in top form because of some stomach rumblies,” he snarked.
“So, bring me my food before my stomach rumblies get the best of me. I’m hungry.”
“Well…if someone hadn’t slept all bloody day.”
“Oh, you’re just mad because you had to read without me.” Where the sassiness came from, she had no idea. And, it shocked her to realize that she was comfortable around him.
“Damn right, I am. Bet you opened that book jus’ now because you knew I was comin’,” Spike growled. He plopped down in the chair beside her, placing the fish and chips he’d obtained from the late night diner on the table in front of her.
When she continued to read her book, ignoring him and the food he’d gotten for her, he stormed to his feet to take a shower, determined to tune her out, much like she was doing to him. Her hand shot out, closing around his wrist before he could move, and he glanced over his shoulder, brow arched in question.
“What’s in the bag?” she asked softly.
“Fish ‘n chips. Figured it was a safe bet.” Spike turned around and stared down at the Slayer.
“Thanks…for bringing me something…” Her voice slowly died off, her eyes unable to break away from his intense gaze. The air between them suddenly seemed charged with electricity as they moved towards one another. Both stopped just a hairsbreadth apart. There was something about this moment that was different than before. As if they came together now, there’d be no going back. Neither moved for a space of a moment. And then another.
Finally, she whispered his name.
Spike.
Nothing more.
It could have been a question, or a plea. Something to break the indecision that was holding them both frozen in place. Unable to commit.
Spike was the first to draw back, tucking a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ear then stepping back.
“Eat your dinner before it gets cold, Slayer. I’m gonna take a shower then we’ll hit the books…See if we can suss out where this Order is hiding.”
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy watched beneath lowered lids as Spike came out of the shower clad in only a towel that hung indecently low on his hips. She’d never really paid attention to the sculpted lines of his body before. All the times they’d been together, he’d just been a willing body to comfort her, hold her…and she was sure he felt the same. They were enemies that had formed a truce in a mutual desire to see the Order brought down.
Now things were different, well, they felt that way now, and she wasn’t quite sure if she liked it. Since Angel’s dusting, her heart had been encased in ice, allowing no emotion to seep through. Except revenge. Revenge was what kept her going when at times all she wanted to do was give up.
Her eyes returned to the print on the page, rereading the same line several times as Spike slipped into a pair of jeans. The sound of the zipper rang in her ears, and she forced herself to concentrate on the book in her lap.
“Anything?” he asked as he sat in his chair and grabbed one of the books he’d been looking through earlier.
“Nothing concrete. Just vague references so far. You?” she asked, referring to the study session he had while she slept.
“The same…although, this book…” He held up a book on cults. “…seemed promising. My eyes were starting to cross from all the reading, so I took a break to grab something to eat and come back to it with a fresh set of eyes.”
“Yeah…I never did understand how Giles and the others could research late into the night. My eyes are already starting to glaze over and I’ve only been reading for an hour.”
“Bet you were the first one to make your excuses.”
“Hey! Slayer here. My job was to beat the bad guys, not write a paper on them.”
“Uh huh.”
She stuck her tongue out at him before returning to her book, missing the smile that transformed his features, giving his human visage an almost boyish appeal. They settled into companionable silence as they read, occasionally getting the other’s attention with brief passages that might be of importance, marking them for further exploration later.
“Hey, Spike! Look at this! It looks like someone drew a floor plan of the Solomon Temple. The picture is kinda grainy, but it may come in handy.”
Spike half-rose out of his chair to look over her shoulder at the leather-bound journal she was reading. Apparently a watcher, disguised as one of the faithful, maybe, had either broken into their inner sanctum and created a map, or he’d overheard bits and pieces and attempted to piece together its layout. Surprisingly, it looked somewhat like an actual man in design, right down to its fingers.
“Good work, luv. We’ll save it. Not sure how reliable it’ll be, but it gives us an idea. Does the book say anything else, give a location?”
“Nothing yet, but I’ll keep reading.”
A few hours later and Buffy was no closer to finding a reference point to the mysterious temple. Slamming the book shut with disgust, she flung it on the table and leaned back in her chair. She rolled her shoulders, attempting to relieve the ache that had settled there as she bent over the ancient journal in her lap.
She glanced at the window and noticed a lightening around the edges signifying the coming dawn, then shifted her gaze to the clock on the dresser. Closing her eyes as she groaned aloud at the neon numbers glaring back at her. 6:00 a.m. Even with the sixteen plus hours of sleep, after staring at books for the last six hours straight, she was ready for another nap.
Buffy didn’t protest when Spike’s hand closed around her wrist and hauled her to her feet, tugging her after him towards the bed. She didn’t have time to feel awkward as he quickly divested her of her clothes and nudged her into bed, slipping out of his jeans and sliding in behind her. When his arms wrapped around her, she automatically relaxed back against him, feeling oddly protected in his cool embrace.
“Sleep, luv,” he murmured in her ear.
She did, drifting off to the gentle vibration of his chest.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 6 | | | | abc + + + | | | Buffy only slept for two hours. Even though the past several hours spent poring over books had drained her mentally, she still had had more than enough sleep prior to their marathon research session to let her nap for long. Slipping out of Spike’s arms, she quickly dressed and let herself out of their room. She had some shopping and a little exploring to do.
Situated on the waterfront, Dover offered an array of sights for her eyes to take in. As she walked down the sidewalk, she eyed longingly the families and numerous couples enjoying their vacation. Probably something for which they’d spent all year saving. Something so far removed from what she and Spike were doing here, it brought a pang to her heart. A feeling of homesickness so acute, as to cause her to pause a moment to catch her breath before she broke down in tears.
Those couples, those families – they had something she’d never have again.
Normal. A normal life.
Oh, it had been bad enough when she’d been called. But, she’d adjusted. Especially after her move to Sunnydale. She’d made friends, bonded a bit with her watcher. Now that was all stripped away. On the run from the mysterious Order, her life had gone from strange, with a healthy dose of secretive, to downright complicated. No longer able to go home for fear of retaliation against her friends and family, she was alone. Only not quite. This time it was a deadly vampire who was her sole companion.
Thoughts of the blond-headed demon caused her lips to turn down in a frown, unsure what, exactly, he meant to her. Yes, they’d formed that truce. Yes, they guarded each other’s back. And yes, they comforted each other with their bodies.
But, something had shifted last night.
A change in the status quo.
He’d been unusually thoughtful. Getting her juice to help her body recuperate from the blood he’d taken. Bringing her dinner. That moment when they’d paused, eyes locked on one another, moments away from starting…something.
Buffy stopped momentarily in her tracks, her hand unconsciously ghosting over the marks on her neck where he’d bitten her. Wasn’t surprised when she felt a rush of fluids dampen her panties – memories alone erotic enough to cause her legs to twitch as she attempted to relieve the ache between her thighs. When someone accidentally bumped into her, she forced her legs into motion and continued her aimless wanderings.
A while later she passed in front of a glass window of one of the shops, her reflection seemingly jumping out at her. The dark hair and Goth-like clothes seemed strange on her, but at the same time appropriate to her situation. Then a thought came to her…
She’d done the complete 180 in terms of clothes and hair, but Spike was still the same 80’s reject as before. Eyes narrowed in thought, she set out for a local corner mart. He was going to pitch a fit, but if she could do it, so could he. It would be good for him. Not that she didn’t secretly love the platinum locks, but a nice black color to complement her own would be kind of cool. At least for a little while. And, she knew she’d never get rid of his duster – not that she wanted to. But, some blue jeans, and maybe some blue shirts might alter his appearance enough to avoid the notice of the Council and the Order.
~*~*~*~*~
Arms laden with her recent purchases, Buffy let herself into their hotel room a little before noon. She wasn’t surprised when Spike shifted in his sleep at the sudden noise before resettling, once more, into a deep slumber as the faint stirrings of “Slayer” reached his senses. The packages slipped quietly from her fingertips to drop almost soundlessly to the floor, leaving only her lunch held by her hands.
Moving off towards the table, she opened the Styrofoam container that held her burger and fries and picked at the food while she opened another book to resume her research. Since Spike had done a bit while she had slept, it was only fair that she do the same. And, the quicker they made their way through the books, the sooner they could bring about the Order’s destruction.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy looked up from a particularly boring passage she was reading to glance over at her…
Mortal enemy. Partner. Ally. Lover. Friend.
Spike was all those things.
For the past week, they’d spent the majority of their time holed up in their room, practically reading around the clock to piece together the clues to the Order’s secret headquarters. In that time, their relationship, such as it was, slowly began to evolve. Forced into close proximity with the other, the two had quickly established a routine. Learned the other’s likes and dislikes. Spent hours talking before drifting off to sleep, bodies replete after making love.
Making love.
Not just comforting sex.
Not anymore.
Although, they hadn’t put a name to this thing growing between them, the Slayer could tell the difference. Whether it was hard and fast, slow and drawn out; when their bodies came together, it was different than before.
Before that look they’d shared. When he’d brought her dinner.
They were going to have to discuss it eventually. Figure out what it all meant. For now, they just lived in the moment, taking one day at a time. Neither verbalizing the change that had come over both of them. The compromises they were making as they strove for a common goal.
Eyeing the dark, disheveled curls on Spike’s head, a reluctant smile came to her lips as she remembered his reaction to the box she’d held up in her hand once he’d awoken.
~*~
“No bloody fuckin’ way!” he shouted at the Slayer, mindless to the people that might have been in their rooms on either side of them. “’M not dyin’ my hair.”
“What’s wrong with black? At least it’s not brown…or…or red.”
Spike crossed his arms over his chest, scarred brow arching at her words.
“Come on, Spike. I don’t even know why you’re fighting me on this. It should have been done a long time ago. You stick out like a sore thumb. And, it’s not as if I’ve got you wearing polos and khakis,” she whined.
“As if that’ll ever happen.”
“Dammit, Spike.”
“No.”
“You’re getting this done if I have to hogtie you to that chair.”
“Shheaaa…right.”
~*~
They’d run around the room then, Buffy chasing after him with the box of hair dye until she’d tackled him on the bed. Needless to say, the dye job was forgotten for a while as she straddled his waist, their moment of fun flaring into a mind-consuming passion that had them tearing at their clothes in their haste to touch bare skin.
In the end, Spike had compromised, sitting docilely in the chair while the Slayer administered the dye to his platinum locks. His one concession being that she’d had to do it right then. She’d jumped up, grabbing her clothes to slip them on before he could change his mind, but he’d stopped her. An evil smirk on his face.
“Nu uh, pet,” he’d said. “Right now…no time for clothes.”
Her eyes had gone wide, but she’d agreed. Pulling out a chair, she’d had him sit down while she’d quickly mixed the chemicals.
When she’d turned around, her eyes couldn’t help but focus on his erect cock, and she’d decided to start with the hair on the back of his head to escape temptation. She’d made quick work of that area, swallowing hard as she moved to his front. There had been no way she’d be able to reach his hair without straddling his lap. As she’d glanced down, Buffy had seen him smirk, realizing her predicament. Evil bastard.
Well, two could play that game…
It was a wonder Spike didn’t have two-tone hair. As she’d straddled him, she’d positioned her body just so and sunk down on his length. He’d dug his fingers into her waist, the sound of her name a hoarse shout as the sensation of being surrounded by her heat threatened to overwhelm him. He’d nearly displaced the bottle of dye from her hand as he’d thrust up into her. Only his strong grip had kept her from falling over backwards as he’d bucked beneath her.
Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head as the tip of his cock brushed repeatedly over her sweet spot. The fist holding the bottle of dye had nearly popped the plastic container as her fingers had tightened reflexively. At the last moment, she’d allowed it to slip from her fingers, enabling her to wrap her hands about his back and hold on tight.
She became an active participant then, using the muscles in her legs to ride him to oblivion. Her fingers around his back dug into the pale flesh, leaving crimson crescent marks where they’d pierced his flesh.
Spike had smelled his own blood on the air and lost it. Rising from the chair, he’d settled her on the counter behind them. The pace he’d set had been relentless, his hips almost a blur of motion as they’d thrust against hers. Buffy hadn’t minded in the least. Had actually reveled in the barely leashed violence of his lovemaking.
Her climax had taken her completely by surprise. One moment she’d been reaching for the peak, the next, her breath had been stolen away as her orgasm tore through her body. She’d hugged him to her, keening her pleasure as her body convulsed around his. Only then had his fangs had sunk into her neck, pulling her blood into his mouth as he flooded her womb with his seed.
Breathless, her limbs complete putty in his hands, she’d felt herself lifted – still intimately attached to Spike – and resettled on his lap when he’d sat back down in the chair. She’d wanted nothing more than to lay her head against his shoulder and take a short nap, but the bottle had appeared before her face, and she’d reluctantly finished his hair.
He’d pouted afterwards…naturally. So much so, that she’d had to placate him with comments about his sexiness. And, in truth…the black was just as hot as the platinum-blond look he’d sported. The clothes had been even less of a problem. Her inadvertent comment about how the blue shirts would bring out the color of his eyes was enough for him to forgo the black…for now. She’d let him keep the boots; although, the cut of the jeans allowed for the pant legs to lie over the top, leaving just the toes of his boots showing.
~*~
“Let’s take a break,” Buffy told him. “We’ve been cooped up inside this room for over a week…neither one of us leaving except to eat.”
“Alright, pet. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything. Let’s go walk along the coast. Play at being tourists for a bit. Can we pretend, just for a little while?”
Spike put down the book he’d been reading and stood up. The Slayer had been holding up remarkably well. Never complaining about their enforced confinement and not resorting to the petty arguments that came about when two people were cooped up for any length of time. And, a few hours reprieve from the research wouldn’t make or break them.
He felt relatively safe that they were under the radar of both the Council and the Order.
“Come on, luv. Let’s go.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, kitten,” he replied, brushing his lips across her forehead and leading her towards the door.
Once outside, he slipped his hand into hers, the pair for all the world looking like a normal, everyday couple out for a nightly stroll.
For a few hours, they pretended that they weren’t Slayer and vampire, hounded by a deadly sect, each seeking revenge against those determined to kill them.
For a few hours, they were just Buffy and Spike. Woman and man. Enjoying the nightlife Dover had to offer.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 7 | | | | abc + + + | | | Buffy closed the leather bound volume – the diary of one of the watchers who had apparently broken into the Order’s intimate circle – and rubbed her eyes wearily. After finding the map, she’d discarded the journal thinking that it had yielded all of the information on the sect possible. But, Spike had been relentless, and after alternating between a few other tomes scattered about on top of the table, she’d made her way back to this one.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like reading the personal entries of a man probably long dead. Not really. His words actually drew her in, the writing style easy to read and far from boring. It was just that…since nothing seemed to pertain to the Order, she couldn’t remain focused on it right now.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes roving over the figure sprawled on the bed. The sheet pulled haphazardly over his hips covering, but in no way hiding, the semi-hard cock lying passively against his thigh. The slayer turned away from the enticing picture he made before she became too distracted. She stretched in her chair to get more comfortable and opened the journal once more, only to displace the thing from her lap.
Smiling slightly at the tongue-lashing she would have received if her watcher had been present, Buffy leaned over the arm of the chair to retrieve the misplaced book. Frowning slightly when she noticed a worn, folded piece of paper. Picking it and the journal up, she placed the book on the table, distracted as her eyes stared down at the yellowing paper in her hand.
Her curiosity getting the better of her, Buffy opened the edges, the slight crinkling as the note slowly revealed its secrets, causing her body to tighten in anticipation. Hazel eyes quickly scanned the document – a letter addressed to the journal’s owner by another watcher – before she settled in to read. As the words seemed to jump out at her, each line slamming into her gut with the force of a battering ram, tears filled her eyes.
Halfway through the letter, the tears let loose, spilling over onto pale cheeks. She bit her lip to keep from shouting her anger, the Slayer in her wanting nothing more than to rage against them. Them. The Council. Those self-righteous assholes that would put this girl, this Slayer, through such trials. As she continued to read, hands shaking slightly at her building emotions, she realized it wasn’t just this one. It was all of them.
Any Slayer that was fortunate enough to reach their eighteenth birthday.
Buffy thought of her own watcher. Giles. The soft-spoken British man whose looks suggested that he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, harm a fly. Apparently, they’d been deceiving.
Her rage at his deception and eventual betrayal consumed her, and she’d risen and snatched the phone off the hook, placing the international call before she could regret the impetuousness that may give away their position.
But, she had to know.
Know if her watcher knew about this Cruciamentum. Or if he was just as blissfully unaware as she had been.
~*~*~*~*~
The shrill ringing of the phone woke him from a sound sleep. Not that he’d had much in these last few weeks, having spent many sleepless nights poring over books, aiding his absent Slayer in the only way he knew how…by searching for a means to destroy the Order of Taraka. Thus enabling her to come home where she belonged. Back among her friends and family.
Ever since Buffy had disappeared without a trace, he’d tapped into every resource he possessed, called in every favor owed him, all in an attempt to ferret out her location. To tell her that he was trying to help her deal with the assassins.
But it had been all in vain. No one, and he could only assume the Order was included in there somewhere, had seen neither hide nor hair of the blonde-headed Slayer. It was like she’d just disappeared. Had simply vanished without a trace.
However, about a week ago, Giles had learned through one of his associates that someone had broken into the Council’s headquarters and stolen several volumes containing what limited information they had on the Order of Taraka, and the watcher couldn’t help but smile at his Slayer’s ingenuity. He was ashamed to admit it, but he would have loved to have seen the expression on Quentin Travers’ face when he realized that his supposed fortress had been robbed. Giles, however, said nothing of his theory that it had been Buffy that had broken into their offices. No…better to let his Slayer have every advantage she could.
Besides, with her feisty attitude and lack of anything structured when it came to her slaying, the senior members would never believe that she'd have the discipline to pull off something of that magnitude – let alone employ the patience required to conduct the research that would be necessary upon obtaining the books.
“Hello!” his terse reply sounded into the phone, belying the fact that he’d just been woken from a sound sleep. His fuzzy brain took note of the delay, his mind quickly shifting gears as he recognized the characteristics of an international call.
“Hello?” he asked, this time more softly. “Buffy? Buffy, is that you?”
He heard breathing, harsh breathing, and wondered if maybe it was a crank caller trying to get a cheap thrill. Giles was just about to hang up the phone when he heard her voice. Only…
“Tell me you didn’t know,” she ground out into the phone, and Giles was left in no doubt how angry she seemed. Confused, he asked, “Know what? Umm…I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about.”
“Let me refresh your memory then, shall I? Say, a little matter of my eighteenth birthday. A trial of sorts…ringing any bells, Giles?”
The silence on the line was deafening, and the Slayer had her answer. He knew.
Giles forced his brain to work, part of him wondering how she’d managed to find out about the Cruciamentum, the other wondering what he could say to appease his overwhelming sense of guilt at another of the Watchers’ machinations.
“Buffy? Buffy, are you there?”
Silence was his only answer.
Little did he know that his connection had been terminated by someone listening in on his line – who was even now carrying on a conversation with the missing Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~
One minute Buffy was listening to the silence of her watcher’s guilt, the next, another voice had intruded upon her call. Its sinister tone carrying across the phone line and causing chills to dance along her spine.
“Good evening, Slayer. Or, should I say good morning? Or maybe even good afternoon?”
“Who the hell is this?” she practically shouted into the phone. “Where’s Giles?” Concern for her watcher temporarily overrode her anger at his deception, and she ground out, “So help me, if you lay one hand on his head—” She paced back an forth in the limited space the phone cord allowed.
“Tsk tsk, Slayer. It’s not your friends and family we want. It’s you. And the vampire... Tell me, Slayer…have you seen him?”
“As if I’d be caught anywhere around the evil undead,” she snarked into the phone, finally sitting down on the mattress and gripping Spike’s hand. “Slayer here, remember?”
Spike’s eyes opened as her hand wrapped around his – hard enough to almost crush a few bones. He was just about to turn towards her and blast her for it when he noticed her talking on the phone. He arched his brow enquiringly before his smirk faded and anger took hold. Disjointed bits and pieces of the man’s conversation caught by his preternatural hearing. Whoever it was on the line, the bastard was playing dirty. Using the Slayer’s mum as bait to lure her to his side.
“…You’ve got five days, Slayer. Or all bets are off. Your mom, your friends, that stuffed shirt watcher of yours…”
“Oh, I’ll be there. Mine will be the last face you see when I strangle the life out of you,” she shouted.
Rather than slam the phone in the cradle to punctuate her point, she just held the receiver in her hands, staring at it as if it were something she’d never seen. Soon, she started shaking, the adrenaline that had been rushing through her veins having nowhere to go.
Spike sat up in bed and carefully removed the phone from her tight grasp, setting it back on the hook. His eyes sifted over the Slayer, watching quietly as her body began to shake. He’d have to take care of that unused energy later – either by fighting or fucking – because right now they had to get out of there. If the Order was able to tap into the phone lines, it would just be a matter of time before they’d triangulated their location.
He threw the sheet off, unmindful of his nudity, shoving the Slayer to her feet so he could get up.
“Come on, pet. We gotta get outta here. Just a matter of time before they show up.” He moved away from the bed to retrieve his jeans and slip them on.
Buffy just stood there, frozen in place, unmoving but for the shivers wracking her frame.
Spike glanced over at her, one leg shoved into his pants. He hurriedly stepped into the other then stalked over towards her. Gripping her shoulders, the vampire shook her, trying to break her out of her trance. They didn’t have time for what he wanted to do, so he hauled off and punched her, sending her flying into the wall behind him.
As expected, she came up swinging, and Spike grabbed her and held her close, effectively stilling her movements.
“Sorry ‘bout that, luv. Ain’t got time to give you a proper seein’ to, yeah?” he told her, tugging lightly on her hair to get her to look up at him. “We get outta here…Hell, I’ll even let you hit me back. But, right now…we gotta go.”
Buffy nodded at him, hesitantly at first, then more forcefully, channeled her energy towards packing their meager belongings. Minutes later, the two were dressed, duffle bags slung over their shoulders. They didn’t bother to check out; they’d paid cash for their room and just left the door keys inside. When the maid came in the morning, she’d see that they’d left and alert the front desk. The passports they’d left behind not needed with the spares they both had. It was probably better that way.
~*~*~*~*~
“I can’t believe you hit me!”
“Bloody hell, Slayer! Not this again. I told you, it was jus’ a li’l love tap.”
They walked side by side in the sewer, ignoring the smell – wasting time until the last ferry departed for Calais. They’d decided to skip to France and take a flight from Paris, by way of Rome, back into the states.
Just one more step to cover their tracks.
Buffy rubbed her jaw. “Love tap, my ass,” she muttered.
Spike affected a mock gasp. “Slayer! ’M shocked. Such foul language.”
“Fuck you, Spike.” She cursed him with a smile. “And, I’m sooo gonna get my lick in later.”
“I’ll hold you to that, pet.” He flicked his tongue behind his teeth and gave her a sexy smirk, deliberately misinterpreting her words. But Buffy being Buffy, had to get in the last word.
“Oh, you won’t seem so eager once I’m through with you, smartass.”
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 8 | | | | abc + + + | | | “You sure we’ll be safe here,” Buffy asked, toweling off her recently dyed locks. “We shouldn’t just make that flight to Italy tonight?”
“Nah…even if they did manage to find where the call was comin’ from, there’s too many variables for them to be able to pinpoint our location. They’ll prolly just wait you out, bein’ as you said you’d be there.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, sitting down beside him on the bed where he lay sprawled on his back, his hands tucked behind his head. “It’s just…with Giles…and finding out about that Cruciamentum thing…I wasn’t thinking.”
“Hey now, none of that. We managed to escape just fine. No worries, yeah?”
Spike didn’t like to see the Slayer cry, and she seemed to be reeling from this latest blow dealt her by the Council.
“If it makes you any feel better, we can always go back to London afterwards, and I can eat them.” He said it in jest, anything to get her to smile…or at least lose the distraught look upon her face. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite affect, and she broke down and started crying, throwing herself against him. His hands frozen in mid air from where he’d removed them from behind his head, he glanced down warily to see her sobbing against his bare chest. His arms lowered from their stationary position to fold her into a secure embrace, one hand running up and down her bare back in a soothing motion while she cried. He wasn’t sure what it was that had set her off, and he waited until she’d spent her tears before asking her.
Buffy had tried to be strong, to be brave and face this thing alone. Not involving her watcher or her friends. But, her absolute faith in Giles had crumbled with his silence, and if it weren’t for the fact that the Order wouldn’t just target him, but her mother and friends, she would have left him alone to deal with his fate. Then, to have Spike offer to make things better for her…
Even if she was sure he was just joking.
Only, she knew if she’d but say the words he would do it. Would kill any and all that had hurt her. Just as she knew she’d do the same. Had in fact done so in that hotel what seemed like forever ago.
Such was just the nature of their evolving relationship.
That thought seemed to comfort her, and she finally dried her tears on the back of her hand then hastily tried to wipe his chest clean.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, gesturing to the mess she’d made.
“’S just water. You alright now?” he asked, loosening his grip so that she could sit up.
“Yeah…and about that…um, if I ever say yes…to what you offered, know that I’m kidding, ok. No matter how much I might want it to be otherwise. It’s just…I don’t understand.”
“Who…the Council of Wankers?”
“No, them I can see doing something like that. They’re all about control and this little test of theirs practically ensures that their Slayers never get too old, too mature to be dictated to. I just thought Giles was different…but I guess I was wrong. He knew! Knew about it, and never told me.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t’ have done it… An’ what is it exactly?” Spike asked, confused.
“You mean you’ve never heard?”
“Wouldn’t be askin’ if I did, pet.”
“Yeah…sorry…just thought you being around and all. Hell, you’d think the vamps would be lining up for a shot at a vulnerable Slayer…you especially.”
“Me?” He sounded deeply offended, as if the mere idea repulsed him. “I’ll have you know, I fight my battles fair ‘n square. Where’s the sport in pittin’ my skills against the Slayer if she can’t even properly participate?”
Buffy arched a slim red brow at him, complements of her recent hair change.
“Well, ‘s true. Both Slayers knew I was gunnin’ for ‘em. Hell, you did too. So, I’ll be havin’ your apology.” Disgruntled Spike was a sexy Spike. And with that pouty lip of his…
“’M waitin’, Slayer,” he grumbled.
“You’re right. I remember the first time I met you…in the alley behind the Bronze,” she told him. Affecting a falsetto voice she spoke from memory, “‘You’ll find out on Saturday. What happens Saturday? I kill you.’”
Spike growled and rolled over, effectively pinning her beneath him. Buffy giggled at his maneuver, in no way worried about him hurting her. No, hurting her was the last thing on his mind…hers too, for that matter. Explanations about the Cruciamentum slipped by the wayside the second he lowered his head towards her breast and his lips latched on to one pert nipple.
She arched into his mouth, groaning in delight when he sucked harder. Her fingers sifted through his dark curls that were free from the gel that kept it slicked back against his skull. With the new color, he’d taken to wearing it product-free, allowing his short locks to dry naturally. A drop dead sexy look, to be sure.
His hand moved to give attention to her other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing the nub to an even harder point.
Buffy couldn’t seem to get enough of him, writhing beneath him until she felt the tip of his cock nudge against her sex. She shifted again, trying to draw him inside.
“Fuck, Buffy,” he gasped, tearing his mouth away from her breast as his oversensitized prick brushed against her womanly curls. “Can’t wait…gotta be inside you now.”
“Yes…now…don’t wai—”
“God, yes,” he hissed as he sunk inside her moist heat.
“Spiiiike,” she groaned, her inner walls stretching to accommodate his girth.
Their dual gasps mingled at their joining, then they began moving in that age-old rhythm of lovers everywhere. The synchronicity of their movements heightened both of their pleasure. The slow pace, their whispered words – although both were careful to avoid using the “L” word – proved the growing affection between the once mortal enemies. Soft caresses and tender looks shared without guile.
It was as if only they existed. Not the Order. Not the Watchers. No one.
Just the two of them moving to music only they could hear.
Buffy opened her eyes to see Spike looming above her. His face a mask of ecstasy as he thrust slowly in and out of her body. Just seeing him like that caused another wave of moisture to cover his cock while her body constricted reflexively around his length.
“Yeah, baby, tha’s it. Squeeze me tight.” She could see the corded muscles in his neck as he surged up into her, and she lifted her head to trace its path with her tongue. He seemed to like that, his measured movements becoming more forceful. Her mouth continued to tease the line her tongue had made, alternately sucking and nibbling at his flesh.
Buffy’s legs wrapped around his hips as his pace increased, the force of which causing the headboard to slam rather loudly against the wall. She didn’t care, too mindless to the way he was making her feel. The fluttering within her womb signaled her impending orgasm, and she bit his neck to keep from yelling her pleasure – hard enough to leave teeth marks, yet not breaking the skin.
It sent Spike right over the edge. Roaring his release – he didn’t care who heard him – the vampire’s face shifted and he buried his fangs in her throat, hips on autopilot as he bucked against her while simultaneously filling her with his seed.
The Slayer gasped at the initial piercing of her flesh. But the slight pain gave way at each sharp pull of her blood into his mouth, his hips continuing their surging cadence. Drawing her orgasm out until it was almost painful.
He finally stilled, his body a boneless mass atop her, he continued to nuzzle at her neck, sucking and laving at the open wounds. Buffy held him close, unwilling to let him move off her just yet. And Spike didn’t seem inclined to move either.
~*~*~*~*~
“I like the red,” he murmured sometime later, his finger idly twirling a lock of her hair. Snuggled in bed together, they’d come to a mutual decision and decided not to bother with research tonight – just in case they needed to make a fast getaway. Instead the pair had romped in bed (it was a good excuse, right?), until exhausted, had managed to haul their asses towards the shower to get cleaned up.
That had led to more of the same, until finally, they’d managed to get cleaned up and flop into bed, both of them lying there, waiting for sleep to overcome them.
“Yeah?” she questioned sleepily.
He growled, nibbling on her ear. “Oh yeah. Very sexy. Although, the black was rather hot too.”
From her position in front of him, Buffy smiled, allowing her eyes to close. She’d never been called sexy before and rather liked it.
Spike felt her drift off, her body relaxing into his as sleep overtook her. He held the Slayer close, the soft cadence of her heartbeat soothing. It was still a little early for him to join her in slumber, but rather than get up, he just held her close, delighting in the warmth of her skin against his…the softness.
Towards dawn, he too, drifted off.
~*~*~*~*~
The trip to the airport was accomplished with relative ease. There was one slight snafu when Buffy was selected for the practical strip search the airlines passed off as a security check. She rolled her eyes at being typecast, although, looking down at her clothes, she wasn’t surprised. Throw in the appearance of her boyfriend…
‘Whoa? Boyfriend, Buffy?’
She looked over to her traveling companion. His amusement at her expense, something she’d be taking up with him later. The Slayer cocked her head to the side as she regarded him – the move reminiscent of Spike’s.
‘Hell, even his mannerisms are rubbing off on me. But, boyfriend? Well, he’s a boy…man…and he’s my friend?’
‘Gee, avoid much?’
‘What do you want me to say? That Spike is my boyfriend? Like we’re dating or something?’
‘You are sleeping with him…’
‘So?’
‘So…it’s not something you’d take lightly. And him being your first…’ her inner conscience prodded.
‘Shut up! Get out of my head. Go bug someone else already.’
‘Just sayin…’
After that parting shot, the mocking voice drifted away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Finally cleared from any possible terrorist activities, Buffy joined back up with Spike, and together they made their way to their plane.
~*~
“Something wrong, pet?” Spike asked as they buckled themselves in their seat.
“No…not really. Just thinking, is all.” And Buffy wins the prize for understatement of the year.
Spike nodded, saying nothing. He wasn’t going to pry. Besides, he had a lot on his mind. Like what he was going to do after they’d finished what they’d started. If the Slayer planned to go back to Sunnydale. And, whether or not she wanted him to stick around.
Their individual thoughts made for a quiet trip to Italy.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 9 | | | | abc + + + | | | “I can trust you to keep your fangs sheathed around my friends, right?” Buffy asked when they landed in Los Angeles on the third day of the five the Slayer had been granted by the Order. Spike didn’t even dignify that comment with a remark – and it wasn’t like he was going to volunteer that he’d adjusted his feeding habits to keep her conscience fairly clear while in his company. It was something that, whenever he happened to think upon it, shocked the hell out of him.
But, she’d somehow managed to worm her way into his unbeating heart, and he’d rather grown to like her company. And, it wasn’t like there was a shortage of would-be criminals for him to sup upon.
While still in France, the two had formed a tentative game plan for dealing with the threat in Sunnydale. They’d timed their flight from Paris so that there was just enough time for them to clear customs before catching the early afternoon flight from Rome into Los Angeles – that time chosen because it would allow them to arrive in California during the evening hours, making it much easier for the pair to move around and set things in motion. The biggest hurdle had been ensuring that Spike wasn’t singed by all the sunbeams filtering into the numerous windows of the airport; said vampire only breathing a sigh of relief once he was huddled in the far back corner of the plane and away from any glass fixture.
In a final attempt to throw off the assassins, Buffy had bought a bogus bus ticket in her own name from Las Vegas to Sunnydale, due to arrive the morning of the fifth day. Neither was figuring that the Order would fall for it, but it couldn’t hurt, and on the off chance it allowed the pair to slip into Sunnydale undetected, the hundred dollars had been deemed well worth the expense.
With their duffle bags slung over their shoulders, Spike and Buffy made a quick stop by the airport lockers to stash the books they’d stolen from the Council’s stronghold. Then, they escaped into the night to find sleeping accommodations and food, with Buffy leaning more towards the former.
~*~
The door had barely closed behind them and Buffy was stripping out of her clothes to fall exhausted onto the bed. Spike made sure she was settled beneath the covers before he let himself out. He needed to hit a few demon bars to see if he could suss out any details about the situation on the Hellmouth. Plus there was the matter of obtaining a few weapons before he and the Slayer made their grand re-entrance in good 'ole Sunnyhell.
By the time he let himself back into their motel room a few hours before dawn, he felt a lot better about them surviving the encounter with the Order. He had information and weapons in spades, now it was just a matter of them acting on what he’d learned and obtained.
Spike pulled off his clothes and slid beneath the sheets behind the Slayer. He pulled her back into his arms, smiling into her hair when she relaxed in his embrace. The soft cadence of her heartbeat and the borrowed blood filling his veins – not to mention the lack of sleep during the past forty-eight hours – soon lulled the vampire to sleep, neither waking until sometime after noon the next day.
~*~*~*~*~
“I still don’t like it,” Spike argued. Not for the first time.
“Spike, we’ve been over this,” she pointed out. “The Order doesn’t know that we’ve teamed up. We stand a much better chance of splitting up and arriving in Sunnydale separately.” She held up her hand when he would have interrupted her again. “And, yes, I know…you still don’t like it.”
“Damn right I don’t,” he grumbled under his breath.
Buffy got up from her chair and straddled Spike’s lap, smiling slightly at the muscle that ticked in his jaw from where he was clenching his teeth to keep from arguing. That she could smile now in the face of his anger boggled her mind, but it was no worse than willingly sitting on a somewhat docile master vampire’s lap – the same vampire that, a mere month ago, was eagerly plotting her destruction.
“It’s only for a few hours, and I won’t do anything stupid. Just get off the bus and scope out a secure place for us to hole up.” She held up three fingers in a mock Boy Scout honor pledge, to which he didn’t even crack a smile. Buffy sighed then, a long heartfelt exhalation of breath. “You know I’m right, you’re just being stubborn, and all with the brooding.”
That remark didn’t seem to go over very well at all.
Before she had time to even process his actions, he’d fisted his hand in her hair and leaned over her, effectively pinning her body between his lap and his chest.
“I don’t brood,” he growled.
Then he crushed her to him, his arms banding so tight around her back that if she were merely human, she’d have been looking at a few cracked ribs. As it was, his strength was still in jeopardy of messing with her Slayer constitution.
“Uh….Spike? Ribs? Kinda’ don’t need ‘em broken right now.”
He didn’t act like he'd heard her, his face buried in her neck, the telltale ridges pressed against her tender flesh - causing her Slayer warning system into overdrive. But, she ignored them, trying to concentrate on what he was mumbling against her skin. While the exact meaning was lost on her, she did manage to pick up on the possessive tone in his voice. The worry he was unable to hide.
She didn’t know if she should be insulted or pleased by his concern.
“Look I know you don’t like—”
The fangs in her throat took her completely by surprise, his bite being the last thing she’d expected from him just then. Before she had a chance to grip his hair and pull him away, he’d released her, his demon retreating so that he just sucked at the piercings he’d made. Buffy relaxed against him, not sensing any danger.
The tension in him ebbed at her capitulation, relieved that she was alright with this…with him marking her. For the next few minutes, he lulled her into a state of semi-arousal, knowing that this next bite was going to go deep, its pain a testament to the mark’s staying power.
The Slayer was riding a soft swell of pleasure as his tongue laved at the twin pinpricks on her throat. Her body slowly rocking against the bulge in his pants. His next bite, when it came, ripped her from her pleasure-induced haze and knocked her back into cold hard reality. The searing pain was intense, and she scrambled to get away from him. In response, he just growled and held her body still, forcing her to submit to him, his teeth digging deeper into her flesh.
She whimpered against him, unable to escape, trying to figure out what had set him off so that he was now trying to kill her. Tears welled in her eyes to fall unbidden down her suddenly pale face, his name a whispered question escaping her mouth. He started purring then, a soft rumbling centered in his chest that seemed to engulf his entire body, and it was then, Buffy realized, that he wasn’t draining her so much as digging his sharpened canines into her neck. And she forced her body to lie passively above him, surrendering herself to the pain.
Dimly she was aware of being lifted, and figured she must have passed out momentarily. He’d removed his fangs and was lovingly licking at – what she just knew would be – a rather large wound. Then her back came into contact with the mattress and he was lowering himself on top of her.
Spike smoothed the overly-red strands of hair from her face, his thumb tracing the line of her tears where they’d not completely dried. With his demon sated, he looked upon her confused features, his deep blue eyes taking note of every little nuance. He really meant to go slow, make this joining special, give her back a little bit of what she’d given him. But the second his lips touched hers, and he felt her limbs wrap around his body…he was lost.
Clothes were shed with all possible haste, until nothing remained between them. With his hand around the base of his cock, he lined himself up with her slit and rammed his way home - breathing a sigh that she was so wet and he’d not hurt her even more with his invasion. And, oh god…was she wet. And tight, so tight. Like she’d been made just for him. Her vaginal walls gripped him so lovingly…
“Fuck…Slayer,” he hissed once he was completely sheathed within her pussy. He stilled above her, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him. He could see the lust and impatience swimming in her hazel depths and he couldn’t prevent the self-satisfied smirk that graced his lips.
Spike rocked his hips against her, pleased to see her eyes flutter from the sensation, the way she arched her neck and lifted her hips to take more of him. He was automatically drawn to the puckered scar on her neck, proof that she was his now – whether she wanted to be or not. When this was all done, the Order no more, she’d have a hell of a time walking away from him.
He wasn’t sure why he’d marked her. Some need to establish some type of connection. Maybe because she’d mentioned his grandsire in a roundabout way and the fact that he was now alone, his family completely gone. A lone Aurelius master with no one to lord over. He’d claimed her in a moment of weakness – unable to bear it if something were to happen to her while they were parted.
This little slip of a girl who was a Slayer. His sworn enemy.
“Spike.”
Her whispered plea brought him back to the present and he increased his movements, the sound of the bare skin slapping together as they raced towards release fighting for supremacy in volume against their growls and groans of pleasure.
Buffy was anxious. It was different this time. Somehow. The mark on her neck seemed to vibrate harder and harder the closer she got, and it felt as if he were inside her. Reading her thoughts, searching out all of her secrets. It scared her how vulnerable she felt at this moment.
Before it had been about mutual need, mutual comfort. The pleasure they’d derived from each other’s bodies hadn’t weakened them in the least.
Now…now it seemed strictly one-sided. Like the bite he’d inflicted had granted him an all-access pass to her soul. With no hint, whatsoever, of what he might be thinking. Or feeling.
And she started to struggle. To escape his all-seeing eyes and go back to what she was before. A girl closed off from the world. Unwilling to open herself to anything or anyone. Her heart encased in ice.
Spike sensed the change come over her and he countered her movements. Slowing his thrusts so that he could take possession of her mouth, his tongue slipping between her parted lips to begin an intimate dance with hers. Slowly, hesitantly, he seduced her out of her shell until she was panting and clinging to him once again. Her little mewls of pleasure near driving him insane. He tore his mouth from her lips and trailed kisses along her jaw towards her ear. Felt her get wetter as he traced his tongue along the outer shell, wetter still when he nibbled on the lobe, his cool breath skimming the wet surface.
“Tha’s it, Slayer,” he encouraged as her inner walls tightened reflexively around his cock. “Squeeze me tight.”
“Spike…more…need…”
“I know what you need, baby.” He punctuated that statement with a surge of his hips. “Mmmm…yeah…like that, did’ja?”
Buffy nodded, unable to speak.
“Again?”
Another nod.
He drove himself back into her, a twisted snarl of rapture transforming his features. His eyes closed tight as he concentrated on angling his hips just right…
She gasped and bucked beneath him, and he grinned. Spike held her body just so while he pounded away at her pussy, ignoring her whimpered cries of too much until she couldn’t say anything, caught in the grips of her orgasm. He watched as she struggled to open her eyes, to focus on the man above her, as her body convulsed.
The intensity in her gaze was near blinding, his possessive nature rearing its ugly head. Only for him. Only he could make her look that way. Feel this way. Didn’t matter how they got here, she was his.
“Mine,” he growled, hips never stopping their punishing pace, his face looming above hers. At her slight nod, he gave in to his body’s demands, hips bucking spasmodically as he poured himself into her.
Spike collapsed on top of her, pleased when she tightened her arms and legs around his back and lower limbs and held him close, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe normally. They lay there like that, neither moving nor speaking. Just floating along in the aftermath of the most intense orgasm either had ever felt.
When the Slayer determined she’d wasted all the time she could, she loosened her grip and rolled them so that he was sprawled on his back beneath her.
“I’ve got to get ready so I don’t miss my bus,” she spoke softly.
He nodded, not saying anything. Knowing that this was their best course of action, no matter how much he hated being separated from her. Spike helped her up and followed her into the bathroom to shower.
Neither spoke while they washed each other off, their touch almost impersonal so as not to start something neither would be able to finish. Afterwards, Spike dried her off and nudged her towards where her clothes were laid out on the second bed, before wrapping another the towel around his lean hips. She dressed quickly under his silent gaze, her movements brisk, efficient, transforming from the girl he’d made love to not twenty minutes ago into the Slayer. One with a vendetta.
Buffy’s hardened gazed swept around the room, coming to rest on her packed duffle of weapons, clothes, and a little cash that was lying on the floor near the door. Without a backward glance at the vampire in the room, her stride ate up the short distance across the floor; she leaned down and hefted the bag in her hands. Hand on the door, the Slayer drew a deep breath, steeling herself for the coming battle.
A moment later she dropped the bag and flung herself at Spike watching her departure. She attacked his lips, her fingers sliding into his dark locks to hold him close, kissing him with a desperation bordering on panic.
Spike crushed the Slayer to him and kissed her back, until she seemed to get a handle on her emotions and reluctantly pulled away.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Count on it, luv.”
“You’ll be able to find me?”
The vampire smiled then. His fingers brushed over the hidden marks on her neck, watching the telltale shiver that the action elicited.
“Anywhere.”
Buffy nodded, trusting his words, then she turned and walked out of the room, her duffle held securely in her hand.
It was going to be a long eight hours.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 10 | | | | abc + + + | | | When the bus drove into Sunnydale in the early afternoon, Buffy was surprised at how much the place had changed. Or, maybe it hadn’t change. She’d changed, though. The headlong flight out of her hometown almost a month ago had forced her to grow up overnight… more so than when she’d first learned about vampires and slayers.
Now the city seemed overly bright. Its inhabitants overly cheery – and completely oblivious to the events that seemed to occur during the night.
The bus route into town led them past the high school, and she watched as several students lounged in the parking lot and on the grounds, chatting with others or waiting for rides after having just been let out for the weekend. Her gaze swung instinctively towards the library where, no doubt, Giles, Willow, Xander – maybe even Cordelia – and Kendra were inevitably engaging in some type of research party. A fleeting smile graced her lips at the thought of the small group before she hardened her heart.
Wouldn’t do to have anyone witness her smile with the hard-as-nails image she currently portrayed. Not that there was anyone in her immediate vicinity to see – the occupants of the bus had taken one look at her overly-fake red hair and black-on-black clothing, and given her a wide berth. It was kind of nice. Plus, it allowed her to keep her bag within easy reach in case she had to defend herself.
Yes, dressing like a rebel made it easier to tell Order members from the naturally friendly. Anyone that tried to get close to her looking like this was instantly suspect.
As the bus pulled into the depot and stopped, Buffy waited until the last passenger got off and wandered away before she slid out of her seat. Her eyes were on constant alert for anything out of the ordinary. Her senses tuned to anything that might make the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Catching a cab proved a lesson in futility, so she ended up walking through the rundown section of Sunnydale to find a motel for her and Spike. She scoped out two others before deciding on the third since it provided the most escape routes – one of which was through the sewer tunnels.
With nothing but time on her hands, she leaned back against the headboard and channel-surfed, disgusted with what passed for daytime television. She finally settled on cartoons but even they confused her; the card-wielding anime characters were nothing like what she used to watch as a kid. After several successive shows of similar themes, the sun finally started to dip in the sky and she changed the station to the news to see if anything out of the ordinary was happening in town.
Sunnydale was soon enveloped in darkness, and the Slayer began to get antsy. Oh, she knew she still had a couple of hours yet before Spike arrived, especially since he’d probably not left LA until the sun had gone down. Still…this waiting was fraying what little was left of her nerves. She should have grabbed a book or magazine to flip through to help pass the time – having long since given up on the five whole channels the archaic television was able to tune in.
The tingling along her scar began as an infrequent buzzing in her subconscious. A bumblebee that whizzes past your ear, the noise soon fading as it flew away. She discounted the sensation as a lingering effect of Spike’s rather harsh bite, figuring it was her Slayer’s healing knitting the skin back together. She’d still yet to figure out why he’d bitten her so damn hard, and had put it down to his anger at their impending separation - even if it was only for a few short hours. Probably just him getting back at her – maybe it had been the brooding remark that had set him off – because while the bite had hurt like hell, he’d barely drawn any blood from her body. And, the lovemaking afterwards had more than made up for any pain she’d suffered.
The second hum a short while later caused her eyes to widen momentarily at the intensity, and she moved to the mirror to see if maybe she’d caught an infection. Though, she dismissed that thought as soon as it popped in her head. Vampires may be of the undead variety, but germs and diseases were just a few of the nice things they didn’t have to worry about.
She shrugged out of her leather duster, only just now realizing that she’d left it on. The black t-shirt displaying some obscure punk band on the front was pulled from her body, leaving her clad in a red racy bra almost the exact same shade as her hair. She leaned in towards the mirror, poking at the puckered scars and examining her latest “wound.”
“Stupid vampire. That’s so going to leave a mark,” she grumbled under her breath. She turned this way and that, examining the bite mark from all possible angles. It wasn’t that bad, actually. But, the raised scars seemed to smack of ownership – his fangs had completely obliterated those left by the master where he'd bitten her earlier this spring.
It was while she was inspecting her neck that she felt her Slayer senses kick into overdrive.
‘He’s here!’
She tamped down the rush of excitement his presence brought her. Why she was suddenly so giddy at his return raised questions she had no wish to answer. Definitely something that bore a bit of soul searching at a later date. Right now she just chalked it up to after having him constantly underfoot, she’d gotten used to his presence. And, when he was gone…
‘Shoving thought aside now.’
Buffy threw open the door and stared in slack-jawed amazement. Humpable didn’t even begin to describe the new look he was sporting. Standing there in her bra, her eyes gave him the slow once-over from the tips of his black lace up semi-dress shoes all the way to where his dark locks stood on end and all the places in between, seriously admiring the way the black slacks he wore seemed to cling to his thighs and mold around his cock. The blue sweater hugged his lean frame and enhanced – in her mind’s eye – the hard limbs and abs it covered. The piece de resistance were the wire-rimmed black frames perched on his nose that did nothing to conceal the fire blazing within the depths of his blue eyes. That wicked look combined with the riotous spikes jutting up along the top of his skull contradicted everything his GQ-ensemble tried to portray.
It was like they’d done a complete flipflop. She the rebel without a cause, he the upstanding citizen. It sparked a kink she didn’t knew she had, and when they had more time, she was definitely going to play out that fantasy.
For now, she settled on wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him senseless.
Spike quickly warmed to her greeting and was all set to shove her up against the wall and shag her six ways from Sunday as he stepped inside the room and made to kick the door closed with his foot, but she nixed the idea, squirming out of his grasp.
He drew breath to argue, but the look in her eyes – that “I really would like nothing more than to fuck your brains out but we’ve got work to do right now” expression – mollified him somewhat. Recalling the duffle he'd left outside, Spike released her and grabbed his bag, listening intently as she laid out her plans for the evening.
Just a simple reconnaissance. She’d do a quick sweep of her friends’, watcher’s, and mom’s place; him sticking to the shadows and seeing if she drew any notice. Both were still hoping that the assassins in town had bought her ploy and were laying low until tomorrow, thus giving them a chance to stalk the stalkers. And, if they could take out a few tonight…all the better.
“You gonna wear that?” she asked as they moved towards the door.
“Something wrong with what I got on?” He stopped, forcing her to stop as well. Never in a million years would he confess to hating the clothes he was wearing, but having seen her overwhelmingly positive reaction to his appearance, he’d staved off changing into something more “Big Bad.” Nope! That William the Bloody was dressing for someone else’s pleasure would never come to light.
“N-no…no! Nothing wrong,” Buffy squeaked, then forced her feet into action. ‘Nothing that a cold shower or quick round of sex wouldn’t cure.’
Oh, who was she kidding…it was going to take a lot more than one round.
Spike smirked knowingly at her retreating back, then followed her out the door.
~*~*~*~*~
As soon as they stepped outside, it was like their whole demeanor underwent a drastic change. Gone was the lust-ridden couple, in its place stood two warriors. Intent on their prey.
Spike let the Slayer take the lead, allowing her to slip from his sight, until just his sense of smell and his claim would be able to guide him to her. In his poncy clothes he probably made a picture – an easy conquest – as he strolled down the rundown section of Sunnydale. But as his would-be assailants drew near, something in the way the vampire held himself, that cocksure gaze that just begged to be trifled with, made them rethink their plans and slink back from where they’d come. When he neared the Slayer’s old stomping ground, he melted into the shadows, senses attuned for anything out of the ordinary.
The school was Buffy’s logical first stop – a quick lap around the perimeter confirmed her suspicion that the building was being watched. The knowledge forced her to the sewer tunnels to make an undetected entrance. Her fingers trailed along the wall, memories of hiding out with Spike bringing a reluctant smile to her lips. A few turns later and she was climbing the ladder that led into the school’s basement.
Her combat boots where whisper silent as she slipped down the hallway towards the library.
‘Just a peek,’ she promised herself. If all went well, no one – her friends, her watcher, not even her mother – would ever know she’d returned. She’d take care of business here, ensure their continued safety, then beat feet out of Dodge to continue her search for the Order’s stronghold.
Only…Buffy never planned on seeing her mother hunched beside Giles in the midst of the other Scooby gang.
It threw her for a loop. Made her wonder what, exactly, had been explained about her absence. Honestly, since leaving so suddenly almost a month ago, she’d at first been too despondent to even think about her mother. And then later, she’d been so caught up in research…and Spike. ‘Can’t forget about the vampire.’ Her mom was just a distant memory – her parental influence fading over time.
But as she gazed upon her earnest expression, a little part of that girl she used to be, cried out for her. ‘Mommy…’ Her title an unspoken whimper as she held her hand pressed against the library door’s window.
~*~
Joyce sat next to the librarian poring over page after page of text in the hopes of finding some clue as to the secret location of the Order of Taraka. She’d been near frantic when she’d returned from her latest buying trip to see the Jamaican girl, Kendra, sleeping on her couch, her daughter nowhere to be found. She’d torn the house apart, shouting for Buffy at the top of her lungs.
When that had produced no results, she’d rushed off to Willow’s seeking answers from Buffy’s friend. Practically embarrassed herself in front of the redhead’s mother as she tried to ascertain where her daughter could be.
It had only been later, back in her own home, Buffy’s pig held tight to her breast, that she’d been told about her daughter. What she was. And why she’d left.
A vampire slayer.
She’d stared disbelieving at him. The man that had shown up unannounced at her door. Giles, he'd announced himself at the time. The school librarian. Only, not just a librarian. He was a watcher, too. Sent from some Council located in England, its purpose that of overseeing a Slayer’s duties. He’d been very nervous, but forthcoming, as he paced the small confines of her living room, explaining her daughter’s role of “Chosen One.” The way he’d constantly cleaned his glasses while he’d talked – a nervous gesture she’d come to associate with him over the past month.
It had taken awhile for it all to sink in. But, it explained so many things about her daughter. Both since being here in Sunnydale and while they’d lived in Los Angeles. The tattered clothes, the recent dip in grades that had never been stellar to begin with, the sneaking out that her daughter thought had gone unnoticed. Her seemingly “troubled” behavior. It all made sense now, and it broke her heart when she stopped to think of how her daughter had just taken it all – her own mother’s anger and disappointment – never saying a word. Never even hinting at what she was. What she did.
Joyce had vowed right then that she’d get her daughter back. That she’d help Giles and the others find whatever it was that was out to hurt her girl…and she’d make them pay. At the request of Giles – and apparently, her daughter – she’d had Kendra move in with her. Passing off the girl’s presence in her home as some sort of exchange student program – the same way she explained her daughter’s absence to Mr. Synder. (Not that he’d seemed to mind the “troublemaker’s” absence. He'd actually preened, in fact.) Joyce hadn't even batted an eyelash when she saw both Xander and Willow clustered around one of the tables when she’d showed up bright and early the next day at the school’s library. Had just dived right in and gotten to work.
The past month had seemed almost endless, her naïve mind exposed each day to some new revelation. Her motherly instincts had kicked in as Kendra had gone out each night to make Sunnydale a little safer for everyone – not breathing easy until the girl had returned safe and relatively unharmed to her house on Revello Drive. She’d balked at first at Joyce’s concern, but had given up in the face of the elder woman’s determination to look after her. And, it eased her mother’s heart that Joyce was able to give the girl something that she’d not been able to give her daughter – even though she hadn’t known at the time.
She spent her days either at her gallery, or with Giles and the others. They’d relocated their research session to her home during the week, so as not to gain the attention of the mousy-looking principle. Afterwards, when she closed the door behind Giles and made sure Kendra was tucked in bed, she returned to her room. Sometimes crying silently in sheer hopelessness. Other times, her jaw set in determination. In any case, the last words she whispered at night were a prayer for her daughter’s safe return.
Now, as Joyce stared unseeing at the blurred text in front of her, something made her pause. Made her lift her head and glance at the library's swinging doors.
Where she spied the redheaded girl with kohl-rimmed eyes, her pale face haunted. She looked so lonely, and heartbroken.
Her hand covered her mouth as she let out a gasp, tears welling in her eyes as the girl seemed to just disappear.
Buffy.
Her daughter had come back.
She may have done a complete one eighty in appearance, but Joyce would recognize her daughter anywhere.
“Something wrong, Joyce,” Giles asked distractedly.
She coughed, steeling herself so that she could respond to the librarian’s question. Something in the way her daughter had acted compelled her to dismiss her sudden appearance, and she did, brushing aside his concern with some banality about getting blurry vision from staring at so many books for the last few hours.
“I think we should call it a night,” he told her and the others. “Kendra needs to patrol anyway, and I think we could all do with a break.”
Everyone seemed to shuffle to his or her feet, the quiet scraping of chairs against the floor the only sound as everyone but the dark-skinned Slayer gathered a handful of books to take with them to Joyce’s Jeep for transportation to her home. Friday night was spent skimming through piles of books, weeding out those necessary for further research during the week, and Saturday morning she treated everyone to a homemade breakfast – something she’d rarely shared with her own daughter.
But, now her daughter was back. And that would all change. She’d be a better mother, now that she knew. More supportive. She’d changed this past month; she just prayed her daughter lived long enough to see it.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 11 | | | | abc + + + | | | A/N: Take note of the warnings for this chapter. Nothing too descriptive, but just thought I'd put them in place just in case...
Spike could feel the Slayer’s distraught emotions and thought she’d been discovered by the Order. He raced along the sewers towards the school’s entrance via the basement, an overwhelming urge for him to get there. To save her.
He couldn’t lose her now…now that this thing between them had started to develop.
‘Mommy.’
A single thought, though no less traumatic – for the Slayer, at least. But, it caused the vampire to slow his headlong run down the tunnel. She’d apparently caught sight of her mum. Probably thrown her for a loop, not having seen her in over a month. And, what was her mum doing at the school on a Friday night anyway?
He had just reached the ladder leading up to the school’s basement when he felt the Slayer and then saw the trap door open. In the blink of an eye, she was standing before him, throwing her arms about him and crying like the little girl she hadn’t been for so long. Spike just held her close as she slowly got her emotions under control, helping her by rubbing her back and murmuring soothing platitudes to calm her.
After awhile, she drew away, and he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips as he caught a look at her face. He didn’t outright laugh, no matter how much her tear-streaked make-up made her appear like a clown – but it was bloody close.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” she told him, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at her breakdown.
“No worries, luv,” he replied, trying his best to wipe the black smudges from beneath her eyes. “How’s it look up there?” He inclined his head in the direction of the school, trying to steer her away from her melancholy and getting her back to the business at hand.
Her smile indicated her appreciation and when she spoke her voice was much more steady. “Scooby gang all present and accounted for, and it looks like they’ve done a bit of recruiting…my mom.”
“Ahhh…so that’s what the waterworks were about,” he commented – not letting on that he’d known all along what was bothering her. No need to get into the ramifications of his having claimed her just yet. Plenty of time for that later. Say…many years from now.
“Yeah…sorry,” she mumbled yet again. “I just wasn’t expecting my mom to be sitting there right in the middle of them, her nose stuck in one of the latest demon books, looking for all the world like she belonged.”
“What did you expect would happen when you jus’ up and disappeared?”
“I dunno…I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I just…needed to keep her safe…make the Order follow me, ya know.”
“Yeah…I do. Come on,” he told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and steering her towards another part of town. “Let’s finish up our sweep of good ole Sunnyhell. See how many of the Order’s faithful have hanging around.”
“Ok.”
The two walked for a bit, the only sound, that of their feet as they sloshed in the puddles.
“Thanks, Spike,” Buffy spoke after a time.
The vampire didn’t say anything, unaccustomed to receiving thanks of any kind.
“Really…I—”
“Don’t make me bite you, Slayer,” he responded rather gruffly. He hauled her close, masking his brief hug within a bid to get her to move. “Now, come on.”
Buffy smiled anyway, her mood suddenly lightened in his presence…even if he was more prickly than a lion with a thorn in its paw.
~*~*~*~*~
By the time they’d finished reconnoitering the town, they’d counted a total of six assassins; they added a few more to that number, just in case they’d not seen them all. Two were stationed at the school. One each was also at her mom’s, her watcher’s, Willow’s, and Xander’s homes.
They arrived separately back at the hotel, Spike returning some time later because he stopped for a bite to eat along the way – some would-be human mugger, demons knowing better than to mess with him - that took one look at his stylish clothes as he walked along the rundown section of Sunnydale and thought Spike might be easy pickings, especially with the added courage in the form of the handgun the man had been sporting. Well, the thief had gotten quite the surprise when the bullet didn’t kill his intended victim – had, in fact, just hurt like hell and really pissed him off.
Spike calmly took off his glasses and slid them into his pants pocket, unmindful of the blood oozing from the wound to his stomach, then allowed his demon to spring forth as it sensed the man’s fear.
“W-wha…w-what are you?” the mugger managed to gasp out as he fell over backwards on a crate, scrambling to get away from the…thing…the monster slowly advancing on him.
Spike reached down, pulling up the human by the lapels of his coat.
“I’d say somethin’ like ‘Your worst nightmare’ but ‘s too cliché. So, I’ll go with the “’m a bloody vampire, you git, what does it look like?’” the vampire responded, just before he sank his fangs into the human’s throat. Mindful of his bleeding wound, he drank fast and dropped the corpse to the ground. He glanced down at his ruined sweater and mentally cringed at the confrontation he’d most likely have with the Slayer once he returned.
~*~*~*~*~
As expected, the Slayer had let him have it with both barrels, even as she hauled him into the bathroom and practically ripped his clothes off to see to his wound. She’d muttered under her breath a lot, 'stupid vampire' an oft-repeated phrase of hers, and it seemed to Spike like she took perverse pleasure in pulling the slug from his body – an extra jab here, an extra twist there.
But, Spike didn’t give her the satisfaction that knowing her supposed tender ministrations hurt like a right bitch. He’d dust himself first. Christ! He knew of undertakers with better bedside manner than she exhibited!
He eyed the small sewing kit she set beside him warily, about to object that he’d heal just fine on his own with a little rest, but she spoke before he had the chance. So, he just nodded at her explanation and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her hands.
~*~
Buffy knew she was hurting him, but couldn’t seem to help herself. She was so nervous… and worried. When he’d shown up, she’d nearly fainted when she’d seen the hole in his sweater, taken in his paler than normal complexion. He was hiding it, but the vampire appeared moments from passing out.
She’d dragged him in none to gently and cleaned him up, before setting to his abdomen with one of the knives she carried on her person. Her emotions made her more clumsy than usual, and what would have normally taken her five minutes to accomplish had taken her at least twice that long.
And, through it all, he’d not said a word. Just lay passively beneath her.
Even when she pulled out needle and thread and set to stitching his wound closed.
“It’ll help it heal faster,” she explained. Spike just nodded and closed his eyes while she went to work on him.
Afterward, she crawled up on the bed beside him, leaning against the headboard – pillows propped up behind her – and staring at the television. Spike had curled into her left side, his head lying on her stomach, seemingly fast asleep. Her right hand held the remote and she channel-surfed as thoughts of his condition seemed to plague her mind.
She knew he’d fed, most likely from the person that had shot him, given the false warmth of his skin when she’d first stripped him down and shoved him under the showerhead. But, the fact that he appeared to be sleeping, and it being barely eleven o’clock at night, spoke volumes. Buffy called his name a few times to see if he was actually asleep, or just laying passively against her listening to the TV. When he didn’t respond, she reached a decision.
Placing the remote beside her, she used that hand to fish into her pocket to retrieve the 4”-knife she kept on her at all times. She slipped her left hand from his head, where she’d been idly stroking her fingers through his hair, to make a shallow cut to her wrist. The Slayer allowed the blood to pool for a moment before she pressed it to his lips.
His mouth opened instinctively to close around her self-inflicted wound as his demon caught the scent of her blood. He didn’t sink his fangs into her, just lapped at the blood as poured forth from the cut.
Using the bed for leverage, Buffy folded her knife back up and slipped it back into her pocket. The gentle rumbling of his chest as he supped at her wrist soon lulled her to sleep, the television forgotten as she curled into her vampire.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike woke about an hour after he dozed off; the warm body draped around him and the drops of blood as they hit his tongue an Eden unlike any he could have ever imagined. Still half asleep, his fangs elongated to sink into the flesh before his lips. The flinch of the person wrapped around him didn’t register, but the first hard pull of blood that filled his mouth did.
He froze, eyes shooting open to take in his surroundings. The only light coming from the room was from the television that had been left on.
Carefully, so as not to wake her, he retracted his fangs from her wrist, cradling her arm so that he could lick both his marks and the one she’d given herself closed. His eyes shifted to her face looking for any signs of trauma or discomfort she may be feeling at having fed him for at least the last hour…given the time on the bedside clock. She appeared to be suffering no ill effects and he let out an unconscious sigh.
Then promptly got angry.
How dare she take such chances with her life like that! He could have killed her before he even realized what he was doing. He had half a mind to wake her ass up and lay into her for acting so foolishly…
Instead, he shifted her body to lie more comfortably on the mattress, pulling her close. He didn’t bother to remove her clothes, not wanting to wake her. Just pulled the comforter over both of them.
For a long time, he just held her; listening to her deep, even breathing and slow, but steady heartbeat. He didn’t bother with leaving their room – Sunnydale being unlike the other places they’d stayed. His actions wouldn’t have gone unnoticed, and he needed to maintain a low profile until they’d enacted their plan for ridding Sunnydale of the assassins lurking around the Slayer’s family and friends.
So far as the Order knew, the Slayer was working alone, and it gave them the decided advantage.
One he wasn’t going to muck up because he felt he needed to escape the girl that was steadily slipping through the barriers he’d erected around his heart.
~*~*~*~*~
When Buffy awoke, the sun was trying to peek around the curtains of the window. At some point during the night, Spike had to have woken because she was now lying on her side – still fully clothed – a naked, very aroused vampire half-draped over her.
And, as much as she would love to wile away a few hours, she had to be in position near the bus station to see if any of the assassins took her bait. Hopefully, she’d be able to shrink their numbers while she was at it.
Carefully disentangling herself from Spike, she paused long enough to change her t-shirt, before grabbing one of the key cards and slipping soundlessly from the room. She’d not shared this particular part of the plan with him, especially since he wouldn’t actually be able to help her out, being that it was daylight – which was why she hadn’t told him.
He would have just argued against it.
The vampire had developed this strange habit of seeing to her back. Not that she didn’t like it. But, she was the Slayer; she was used to fighting her own battles.
~*~
Buffy looked down at the bus station from one of the broken windows of the abandoned building she’d secreted herself in. A movement on the rooftop caught her eye, and she noticed a figure hunch down behind one of the structures on the flat roof as it sought to spy on the inbound bus from Las Vegas. Another sweep proved that there was only one assassin there to meet the bus, and Buffy left her hiding spot to narrow the odds a little more in her favor.
She took the long way to avoid detection, gaining the rooftop by shimmying up the drainpipe that was bolted to the exterior wall. The slayer didn’t take any unnecessary chances, stalking her prey with a silent determination that would have made Spike proud. Before the assassin had a chance to grasp that he was was a target...by none other than his intended victim, he was flat on his back with a knife pressed to his throat.
His surprised expression indicated that he’d clearly not been expecting her. And in her present condition. She smiled then, pleased with her disguise. Apparently, the Order had lumped her into a particular box and hadn’t expected her to stray too far from the norm. A nice little tidbit he’d inadvertently given her that she filed away for later.
“How many?” she growled out without preamble.
“I-I don’t know,” the assassin gasped out.
Buffy nicked his skin, causing him to hiss in pain. “I’m not going to ask you again.” Her grip shifted on her knife, digging a little deeper into his neck.
“Seven…seven…including me,” he choked.
“Human or demon?”
“Both…”
She leaned close, her eyes boring into the frightened brown of the man beneath her. “You should have just stuck with me. You should have left my family and friends out of it…”
He started to make some type of excuse, anything to get her to remove the knife from his throat.
“Save it. Since you’re in such an accommodating mood…feel like telling me the location of the Order?” she asked him conversationally, as if the information she’d just requested didn’t equal that of the keys to the pearly gates of Heaven.
The assassin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, his negative shake causing the knife at his throat to dig deeper into his skin.
“No?” Without so much as a pause, the Slayer slit the man’s throat. “Yeah…didn’t think so.” With cold, precise movements, Buffy searched the corpse for any means of identification. A wasted venture, she was sure, but it didn’t hurt to check. When her search revealed nothing, she slipped the fire-like designed gold emblem ring from his finger, proof of his membership in the Order – a souvenir of sorts. Or, a tool that might gain her precious seconds when dealing with the remaining assassins.
She pocketed the gold piece of jewelry and walked away without a backward glance.
One down…six more to go.
And, no doubt, one pissed off vampire to deal with.
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| Alone No More - Ch. 12 | | | | abc + + + | | | A/N: For those of you that may have read this at my site, I've tweaked the scene in this chapter for posting on this archive. If you want to read the chapter in it's entirety, check out my site. ^_^
Instead of going right and heading back towards her motel room, Buffy turned left, heading in the direction of the nicer parts of Sunnydale. Since the Slayer knew that she was going to catch flack from the vampire – who was no doubt pacing back and forth within the small confines of their rented room – she may as well make the most of her time.
He’d said there were seven, which meant that she and Spike had missed one. A mistake that could have proven fatal. And she chalked the discovery into the column of why-I-needed-to-meet-the-bus-from-Vegas-even-if-you-couldn’t-go-with-me as a ready excuse for why she’d gone out without him. Even he would have to see the logic in that.
Oh, who was she kidding…Spike dealt in one hundred percent emotion. He flew by the seat of his pants, even if nine times out of ten it ended up biting him in the ass. Only in this joint quest had he played the levelheaded vampire, thinking before reacting.
The Slayer ignored that inner-voice that told her she would do well to emulate the vampire.
No, she needed to identify all the players at once. Then as darkness fell, the two would split up and make short work of the remaining Order’s assassins that had stuck around Sunnydale.
The death of the assassin that had chosen to oversee the bus station should alert the other members that she was back in town…thus, hopefully sparing the lives of her friends and family. She’d honor her pact with the man on the telephone. Right down to where she claimed that hers would be the last face they’d see.
True, so blatant a kill had now altered their plans of taking them off one by one in rather quick succession, but honestly…
A sudden thought struck her and she halted in her tracks. Her mind worked through several locations until she realized that she was going to need the vampire’s input as well. Abandoning her earlier (irrational) plan of maybe taking out a few more before nightfall, Buffy turned around and hurried back to the motel room she shared with Spike.
~*~*~*~*~
She barely had the key card in the slot when the door was suddenly yanked open and the Slayer found herself hauled inside the room and pinned against the wall.
‘Yep! Pissed off,’ was the thought that flashed through her mind as she opened her mouth to tell him why she’d gone off alone; his face mere inches from her own as he glared down at her.
“Spike, I can expl—”
‘Or not.’
The explanation died on her lips, Spike ravaging her open mouth. Thought flew right out the window and she wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering herself to him...to what he was making her feel.
~*~
Spike could smell the blood on the Slayer, his demon reveling in her obvious kill, although it raged at her for leaving without telling him. It had been an unspoken agreement between the two that while they were in Sunnydale, neither went anywhere without the other. But, she’d completely disregarded their plan and gone out alone. And he wanted to beat her for blatantly putting herself at risk like that. For making him pace the tiny walkway allotted by the furniture arrangement while he waited for her return – the worry he’d felt at her prolonged absence just increasing his ire.
When he’d felt her draw near, he was all set to punish her, to spank her delectable ass until she couldn’t sit down for at least a week. Instead he was kissing the breath out of her, invading her personal space. Grinding into her as he held her immobile against the wall. That she wasn’t protesting in the least his rough treatment of her just goaded him to further manhandling.
He released her long enough to shred her pants, the material no match for his claws or his impatience. The tiny scrap of lace convering her mound provided even less resistance. A snap and a hiss of a zipper, and then he was buried inside, his entry rough, but not terribly so, due to the moisture pooling at her opening – her legs lifting to wrap around his hips as he took her against the wall.
In and out, over and over, the pumping of his hips grinding her back up and down against the wall. Until even that wasn’t enough, and he turned to lay her back against the dresser. Clothes, weapons…they all went flying as the Slayer sought purchase against something stable with her hands. Finding nothing useful, she gripped his upper arms and he braced himself against the dresser’s surface. Their grunts and groans as his cock slid in and out of her pussy mingled with the increased slapping of flesh on flesh.
Neither minded the raw passion of their coupling. The act alleviating the worry of one, while being a natural conclusion to the adrenaline rush of the kill for the other.
Spike pulled out of her suddenly and flipped her onto her stomach.
The slayer groaned at the loss, but a moment later she felt his hard length slide back into her quim to continue the bruising pace of before. She arched beneath him, thrilling at the new angle of penetration this position afforded her.
He was talking dirty now. Crude explicit words that were turning her on...and making her wetter. And, if she wasn’t so swept away with how he was making her feel, she might have answered him with a few choice words of her own. She, however, was reduced to babbling, and pleading.
“You wanna come, Slayer?” he asked between gritted teeth as he tried to stave off his orgasm.
Beneath him, she nodded helplessly.
With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and hauled her up off the dresser, leaving his hand in place for a moment until he was sure she wouldn’t move – only then did he return it to her hip. His tongue licked a trail along her neck to tease his recent claim marks. Her eyes widened as that spot seemed to be linked directly with her sex, and Buffy felt him groan into the sweat-slickened flesh of her throat as her body unconsciously squeezed him.
“More?” he murmured huskily at her neck, to which she just nodded again.
And again he teased the marks, this time with blunt teeth. The next time it was fangs, scraping softly along her flesh. All the while, he never let up on his punishing pace. Each time he teased his marks, he seemed to know the moment the slightest bit more would send her over the edge…and he’d draw back. Leaving her whimpering and poised on the edge.
Her frustration continued to mount and she began to wonder how he’d managed to not come yet himself.
Then he was biting her. Deep like before. Her body seemed to splinter into a thousand pieces, lights dancing before her eyes as wave after wave of untold ecstasy slammed through her body, the only sound coming out of her mouth a choked gasp. Her brain unable to function.
Nearly weak in the aftermath, she practically collapsed face first onto the dresser; Spike’s fangs were still buried in her neck so he ended up draping himself over her back. Suddenly, he tore his mouth away, rearing up to pump furiously at her pussy, on the brink of orgasm. His grip where he held one side of her tightened almost painfully, his thrust almost spasmodic. Then he was filling her, causing a mini shockwave through her system, his bellow of completion reverberating around their tiny room.
After the last tremor passed through his body, Spike managed to slowly ease from her abused passage before collapsing against the wall, struggling to remain standing. The slayer, for her part, was still unmoving on top of the dresser, her body heaving as her heart rate took its own sweet time slowing down – not caring in the least the picture she made with her jeans in tatters around her ankles, bare to the waist and slumped over the dresser. The vampire wasn’t fairing much better; though he didn’t need to breathe, he was mimicking her actions, panting and struggling to recover.
After a minute or two, he shimmied out of his jeans, pulled the Slayer off of the dresser and placed her on the bed. The shirt and bra came off, then he knelt at her feet and quickly removed her boots and socks. He settled them beneath the covers, his arms automatically wrapping around her and drawing her back against his chest.
“Wanna tell me what you were doin’ out alone, pet?” Spike asked after a bit.
He patted himself on the back for voicing the question without any of the anger he’d carried before.
“Went to the bus station—”
“Rather gathered that much. What ‘m wantin’ to know is why you thought you should go without me.”
“Well, there was the small matter of it being daylight. Oh…and wait…you being shot!”
“Don’t think ya wanna go there, pet. Or, we could discuss the fact that you didn’ seem to have your tanks topped off either…li’l matter of bein’ Slayer on tap.”
“I rested…and beside, you didn’t take that much anyway.”
“Didn’ take that much! Bloody hell, Slayer! When I woke to the taste of your blood, I couldn’ even think for the bloodlust. Just a taste of you is enough to make me lose control…an’ me not completely awake? Any other vamp an’ you woulda’ been dead!”
“Wouldn’t’a done it for any other vamp,” she mumbled.
But he heard.
And his eyes closed in wonderment, his arms tightening his hold about her.
The gift of her blood…
It left him speechless for once.
Before it had been something that was his due. His prize upon defeat of the Slayer.
Now…to have it freely given to him.
It just made it more precious.
He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and the two lay there entwined. The only sound in the room, the faint echoes as other guests were heard either exiting or entering their rooms.
When he felt he could speak past the lump that seemed to have lodged in his throat, Spike asked her about the bus station.
“There was one…waiting for me. I got him to talk before I slit his throat.” She said it so calmly, as if his death were nothing of importance. And, it was true. Although he’d been human, he’d been summarily lumped into the category of “Order,” thus sealing his death warrant.
Spike waited, letting her speak.
“We missed one. There’s seven…well, six now. I was all set to make the most of the daylight hours and take out a few more, but then I thought of something.”
“Wha’s that, luv?”
“Even if I did…say…get a couple of them. The Order’d know. And punish them. My mom. Giles. My friends. I’m good, and I’m fast. But not that fast.”
“Which was why we were supposed to wait until tonight.”
“Yeah, but how would the Order know that I’m here? And, who’s to say when they’d start—”
“We won’t let them hurt your family, Slayer,” Spike interrupted.
“I know…and I know how we’re gonna do it.”
~*~*~*~*~
As soon as it was possible the pair slipped out of their motel room. Clad head to toe in black, they easily blended with the shadows. Their destination was a pay phone, still in the seedier side of Sunnydale, but far enough away from their motel that they wouldn't draw notice.
Spike stood by her side as Buffy placed the call, and she drew upon his silent, unwavering support like she once did with her friends. She felt the stillness wash over him as the connection was made and the line began to ring.
“Hello!” Giles answered on the second ring.
“Giles?”
“Buffy! Buffy, is that you?”
But like before, she didn’t answer. Was already conversing with the one that had drawn her to Sunnydale.
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| Alone No More - Ch. 13 | | | | abc + + + | | | From her kneeling position beside the dead Order assassin, her eyes remained glued on the vampire that was toying with his “food.” Clearly the human male was no match for Spike, no matter how hard the assassin might have trained.
She didn’t interrupt his play, hands pressed tightly against the jagged slash across her middle, courtesy of this small band of assassin’s leader, now dead, just like she'd promised him. Buffy ignored the pain of it, and the various nicks marring her arms and legs, waiting patiently for the vampire to finish off the last of Order’s Sunnydale cell. Besides, with the cracked ribs and the fact that there was no part of her body that didn’t ache to some small degree, it wasn’t like she could rise on her own, or draw breath deep enough to bellow at Spike to hurry it along already.
His taunts to his opponent were drifting back to her, his voice growing more and more faint, her blood leaking slowly between her fingers pressed firmly against her abdomen. It was starting to get to her, the blood loss – making her steadily weaker by the minute. The room was beginning to spin; images were getting blurry.
Then faded to black…
~*~
Spike had seen the Slayer’s last adversary fall beneath her blade, the scent of blood heightening his bloodlust, making him draw out this last kill. His mind concentrated solely on the human before him, the desire to prolong his sport so that his demon could revel in the fear permeating from every pore of the man’s body – so much so – that he didn’t detect the faint signature of her blood.
When he calmed from his latest torture round, his senses picked up what had been unconsciously goading his demon to be exceptionally brutal in his attack.
With the human pinned against the wall, held there by his chokehold around the assassin’s throat, his head whipped around to see the Slayer collapsed upon the floor, her blood staining the palms that had tried to stem the flow.
Rage consumed him. The inhuman roar he let out, testament to his anger and pain.
The vampire’s eyes were back on the man dangling against the wall in a flash. His amber gaze holding nothing but death.
It was mercifully quick. A lot more than the assassin deserved, or what Spike wanted to grant him. But, he didn’t matter. Only the Slayer did.
Fangs unerringly found the artery beating erratically in the man’s neck. Seconds later, the vampire was finished, dropping the corpse where it may fall to race to Buffy’s side.
Her heartbeat was slow, but it was still there. She needed blood, and fast…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Several hours earlier…
“They took the bait,” she announced to the vampire at her side. Probably a useless piece of information given that he’d probably heard every word of the exchange. He nodded anyway, out of habit.
They’d chosen an abandoned building out in the middle of nowhere for their final confrontation, gambling on the fact that the Order’s assassins would view her proposal as the odd-stacking event is was meant to be – only it would be in her favor, not theirs. She was to meet them alone, weapons didn’t matter, or all bets were off regarding her loved ones. Buffy had agreed, only with the insistence that she was going to confirm that there was no one left behind spying on her family or friends.
The assassin said he was pulling them back now, giving his “men” a chance to go over their battleground before she arrived.
“Two hours. Come alone.”
He’d hung up then, leaving her listening to the dial tone for a moment before replacing the handset in the cradle.
By all outward appearances, she’d be alone. But, the deserted office building had been chosen for a reason. Situated in the middle of nowhere, it had a sewer tunnel that led directly to it, allowing the vampire to make his way there unseen. Then, between the two of them, they could take out the six remaining members before returning to their quest for the source – the stronghold of the Order of Taraka.
The two parted ways not long after… Spike to make his way to the abandoned building undetected, the Slayer to confirm the Order’s withdrawal.
She cared not in the least that she’d outright lied to the assassin. There was no honor left among them after having threatened all those she held dear, and she couldn’t find it in herself to exhibit even a small amount of fair play.
Nope. They’d made a mistaking in going after anyone but their intended target, and she would see them all dead.
By any means necessary.
~*~*~*~*~
Her first stop was her mom’s, and she just barely managed to hide from Giles as he stormed up to her front door – no doubt to inform Joyce that he’d heard from her. Although, with the single-mindedness of his intent, it was doubtful he would have noticed her even if she were standing right before him. Buffy didn’t hang around to hear their conversation. Instead, she finished up her reconnaissance of the others’ homes, and the high school, before she began making her way towards the abandoned building.
~*~
She knew the moment the assassin began trailing her. Like a defense mechanism created out of necessity, she’d evolved her Slayer abilities so that she could detect anyone that seemed to come within a certain range, human or demon. If nothing else, she could thank the Order for allowing her to realize her true potential. Buffy dismissed him out of hand; he was probably the lowest man on the totem pole, thus beneath her notice. And, he wasn’t doing anything more than making sure she arrived alone.
~*~
The Slayer threw open the door and strode boldly inside. Her gaze swept around the room in an instant, placing the five remaining assassins, marking the leader by his stance and attitude. He was the only one that didn’t twitch slightly at her presence.
‘That’ll soon change. Soon you’ll be begging for your life.’
“Ahhhh… Slayer. So good of you to join us! Like the new look, by the way,” the man greeted, pushing himself away from the wall he’d been lounging against. His deceptively lazy movements didn’t fool her in the least. Almost as tall as Angel, but built more like Spike, he was a man that was very comfortable in his skin, the tightly coiled muscles just waiting to strike.
“Cut the crap,” she ground out, crossing the barren warehouse until she was almost nose-to-nose with him, the tails of her leather duster flying out behind her at her ground-eating pace. “I want your word that after today no one, and I mean no one, goes after my family or friends again.”
In the blink of an eye, she had her knife out of her boot and had drawn its sharp surface across the palm of her hand. The red line of blood appeared almost instantaneously, and Buffy thrust it out to the lead assassin to mark her blood oath.
He smirked at her, revealing a row of uneven yellowing teeth. She didn’t move, just waited – all night if need be – for him to agree to her demand. Buffy refused to speak again. She wanted to make like she was putting on a brave front, like she was expecting to die and was just trying to settle her affairs. Truth was, no one would be coming after her family again because none of the assassins here in Sunnydale were escaping with their lives.
With painstaking movements, the male assassin went through the show of cutting his palm and gripping her outstretched hand. He made as if to crush it, his human appearance no doubt belying the fact that he was part, if not all, some type of demon. Buffy just smiled at him.
When he backhanded her, the force of which separated their joined hands and caused her to fall back a few paces, her grin got even bigger.
He didn’t like it, the defiance she showed in the wake of the overwhelming odds against her. It was like she was privy to something, some secret for which he was being made to wait. It pissed him off, and with an arrogant nod of his head, he indicated the other members of his group to attack.
Buffy was ready for them. The pack was closing in on her, armed with various weapons – though no guns – that they were smacking menacingly against the palm of their other hand. From her crouched position, she drew the dagger from its hiding place at the small of her back and covered by her duster.
It flew through the air, the barely audible whoosh not heard by its intended victim until it was too late, the hilt protruding from the female’s throat marking its trajectory. The woman stopped in her tracks, frantically clutching at the dagger’s handle, before falling to her knees and toppling sideways – dead before her head hit the ground.
They stopped en masse and stared at their fallen comrade. Not willing to believe that the Slayer – who all research had indicated couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take a human life – calmly as you please, doing just that.
In that moment, turning away from the downed woman to the girl slowly gaining her feet, they took note of the unholy gleam in her eyes, and the assassins realized that they may have underestimated the Slayer.
As her eyes shifted towards the door at the far corner, the group was helpless to do the same. To see what could have pulled her attention away from them…
He moved as if in slow motion, his entrance dramatic and fear invoking. The vampire was garbed head to toe in black, the trademark duster speaking his identity even with the lack of platinum-blond hair. His sudden presence caused the head assassin to draw back in surprise, the thought that Slayer and vampire would team up having never occurred to him.
“Welcome to the party, honey!” Buffy called out, gesturing to the remaining assassins. “Dinner, as they say, is served.”
Spike smirked at her, the bones of his face shifting as his demon prepared to do battle.
The place erupted into activity, the assassins – demon and human alike – squared off against the Slayer and vampire, the majority of which figured the Slayer the lesser of two evils and ganged up on her. Weapons, fists, and kicks came at her from all directions and Buffy was hard pressed to hold the three off long enough to retrieve her dagger from the throat of the fallen female assassin. A wicked right cross to the mouth sent her reeling in that direction, and if the punch, and subsequent gash across her leg, hadn’t hurt so bad, she might have been tempted to thank the person that did it.
Shaking off the pain, she snagged her weapon and resumed her position. Buffy took several blows to her body, her cropped sword no match for the longer “true” swords of two of her opponents. She didn’t let it get to her, though; she was determined to come out the winner in this battle.
A sudden scream rang out, and the Slayer figured Spike had killed one of his two opponents, and she mentally breathed a sigh of relief when one of her own attackers left to do battle with his comrade against the vampire.
That just left her with the assassin that had trailed her into the building and the ringleader.
Her mind shifted until the majority of it was engaged fighting off the demon; the human was easy pickings and more in the way of the two combatants than an actual help for his cohort. The leader, with his long reach and even longer sword was slowly hacking away at her energy level that had been liberally laced with adrenaline.
She felt the human try to sneak up behind her, and Buffy sacrificed her weapon to take him out of the equation, throwing her dagger much like she had against the female earlier. Her aim was true and he went down without a fight. But, she took a swipe of the demon’s blade across her midsection as payment.
The Slayer was sent to the ground from the force of the blow, and she used the momentum to take her towards the human…and her weapon. Pulling it from his chest without moments to spare, the demon looming over her and attempting to deliver his deathblow. Summoning every ounce of Slayer strength she possessed, Buffy managed to raise her dagger and deflect the strike. He wasn’t prepared for the move, and it threw him momentarily off balance. Just enough for her to let loose with her dagger once more.
Eyes wide in shock, he first stared at her in confusion, then at the hilt of her blade that was the only visible protrusion from where it was buried deep in his chest, crumpling to the floor when his legs gave out. As she crawled over to where the demon lay dying, if not already dead, another scream rent the air. This left just one assassin remaining, and she watched as Spike spared her a glance to see how she was doing. She nodded at him, indicating that she was fine; he smile back then began to play with his opponent…drawing out this final kill.
“Told you mine would be the last face you see before you died,” she gasped out around her pain, arms crossed over her middle to try and stem the flow of blood spilling from the huge gash across her stomach.
“C-can’t s-stop….Taraka…k-k-keep c-coming…” the ringleader choked out around the blood pooling in his mouth.
“Not if you cut off its head,” she ground out. And using the last of her strength, the Slayer wretched the dagger from his chest and slit his throat.
Blood splattered everywhere, but she didn’t care. Her body was shutting down, weary from the numerous cuts peppering her skin, not to mention the near fatal blow to her middle.
From her kneeling position near the dead assassin, her strength finally giving way. Buffy's legs collapsed, causing her butt to connect with her feet. Then she tipped over sideways, unconscious.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Present time…
With the Slayer practically bleeding out in his arms, Spike raced towards the hospital, bursting into the Emergency Room and demanding in his most fearsome voice for assistance.
Men and women dressed in what looked like pajamas came rushing towards him, their experienced eyes assessing the situation, brains in high gear as they prioritized the Slayer’s wounds – all while barking out questions of the dark-haired male that had been carrying her.
Yes, no, I don’t know, and Summers were his answers to questions like, “’Did you see what happened?’ ‘Are you hurt?’ ‘Do you know where her family is?’ and ‘What’s her name?’”
Spike didn’t yell for them to concentrate on helping the Slayer since they seemed capable of doing two things at once. Then Buffy was loaded on a gurney and wheeled through imposing double doors and into one of the rooms.
A woman appeared before him a moment later, her petite form, yet gruff exterior, reminding him of one of those tiny dogs that annoyed the hell out of bigger, “badd”er dogs. He found himself led to a chair and more detailed questions were asked of him – none to which he knew the answers. She rolled her eyes at him and told him to go have a seat in the waiting area, while she inputted what information he did know into the computer and attempted to find something that might cross-reference so that she could find contact information for the girl’s parents.
The vampire ignored her suggestion, striding through the swinging double doors like he owned the place. When a nurse rushed up to him to say that he wasn’t allowed back here, he just growled and took up sentry in a corner. She gave up and let him stay; he was out of the way and she really didn’t want to have to think about the dog-like growl he’d given her.
She had been born in Sunnydale, knew all about the crazy stuff that went on in this town at night.
~*~*~*~*~
Joyce dropped the phone, her fingers shaking too bad to properly secure it back in its cradle.
“Joyce, what is it?” Giles called out as he rushed from the living room into the kitchen. He took in her trembling hands and pale face and rushed to her side.
“I-It’s Buffy…she was just admitted to the ER.”
“Oh dear lord!”
“I-I need to go…” Her voice trailed off and she moved to look for her purse and car keys. Giles managed to catch her before her legs gave way and she crumbled to the floor.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, easily lifting the distraught woman in his arms and moving towards the front door. She didn’t put up any fuss at being carried so familiarly; Joyce didn’t think she could stand on her own two feet anyway.
She’d known her daughter was back in Sunnydale, but not why. The nurse had said she’d been mugged, apparently slashed repeatedly with a knife of some kind. The only reason she was still alive was because some man happened upon her and rushed her to the hospital. Joyce just hoped he was still there…so that she could thank him personally.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 14 | | | | abc + + + | | | Joyce rushed into the Emergency Room like a mad woman. Nothing and no one was going to stop her from seeing her daughter this instant. She was just about to burst through the double doors when a male nurse came out at hearing shouts of “Buffy!” cried repeatedly.
“Mrs. Summers?”
She paused in her tracks to focus on the man standing before her. It took a few moments, but soon his words started to penetrate her panic-stricken haze.
“…prepped for surgery.”
“I’m sorry.” Her face showed her confusion. “Surgery?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your daughter…well, she was hurt real bad. She’s being rushed to OR as we speak,” he told her gently. He tried as much as possible to prepare families for the worst, and this girl, with her knife wounds, definitely fell into the latter group. That she was even alive showed a strength of spirit he’d never before witnessed, her willingness to hold on amazing the very doctors doing everything within their power to save her. “We’ve a special waiting room, away from all this noise that I can take you to while you wait.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Giles murmured, settling a supportive arm around Joyce.
The room the nurse led them to was fairly dark, the few scant table lamps providing more of a muted atmosphere than any type of actual lighting. The shadows were numerous, and if it weren’t for the flare of a lighter some several minutes later, Giles would have figured that he and Joyce were alone.
The watcher was just about to tell the man that the hospital was a “no smoking” zone, but the emotion in the eyes of the vaguely familiar man caused him to bite back the retort. It was the same look he would probably see if he happened to glance in a mirror.
Anguish.
So, Giles let him be. Besides, it wasn’t like Joyce noticed or even cared about the smoke, her mind consumed with thoughts of her daughter.
The three sat there in the barely lit room, Giles and Joyce huddled together, staring at the neon-colored fish swimming in the tank that formed a partition in the room, while the other man chain-smoked in a darkened corner.
All of them, ironically, thinking about the same girl.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike sensed the moment the two humans drifted off to sleep, no longer able to fight the lure of the sandman – no matter how much they might wish it weren’t so. He expelled an unnecessary breath that the Slayer’s watcher hadn’t seen fit to confront him. The vampire really hadn’t wanted to alert the others to his presence, and he’d given his word not to harm the Slayer’s mates, even if they might provoke him.
With the two sleeping peacefully, he took a moment to observe the pair. Something was brewing there. Their unguarded actions spoke more than just Slayer’s mom and Slayer’s watcher, momentarily united during this latest crisis. He’d noticed it the man’s touch, though the watcher had tried his best to mask it.
But, the vampire knew body language. Knew, also, that the mom wasn’t averse to his attentions.
They just needed some catalyst to spark the flame.
He dismissed them from his mind and concentrated on the Slayer. He could barely feel her through the claim, the mind-altering drugs sending her into too deep a slumber that even he could not penetrate. It made him nervous. No. It made him want to get up out of his chair and find out what was taking so bloody long.
Spike had been told the procedure would take several hours, the blade having nicked several internal organs that would require painstakingly precise sewing to see the damage corrected. Then there was the matter of stiching the gaping wound closed.
Just another thing for which the Order would pay.
The hours slipped by as the vampire imagined scenario after scenario of the final takedown of the Order of Taraka at his and the Slayer’s hands.
~*~*~*~*~
“Mr. and Mrs. Summers?” The soft-spoken voice cut into their light sleep. The couple managed to rouse themselves on the second address.
“I-I’m Joyce Summers.”
“I’ve got good news.” Remarkable, near miracle, news actually. That the girl managed to live and was even now on the mend, her flesh knitting back together at an alarming rate, was something for the record books. “Your daughter made it through the surgery without any complications.”
The doctor watched as the woman seemed to sag into the man sitting beside her. “W-When can I see her?”
“We’re moving her from post-op to ICU for the next twenty-four hours, just to monitor her. She had a very close call and we want to pay particular attention to any signs of internal bleeding. When she’s settled, a nurse will be down to show you to her room. You can visit for an hour, no more. She needs her rest, and frankly, so do you.”
“Yes…thank you, doctor.”
“It was my pleasure. It’s always nice to give these kinds of speeches. Rather makes my day…” He smiled at the pair then moved off, back the way he’d come.
In his darkened corner, Spike sent up a silent prayer of thanks to a God he’d forsaken over one hundred years ago in an abandoned alley in London. He knew she’d pull through; once they’d started injecting her body with replacement blood, he knew her Slayer healing would kick in and repair the damage done to her. But, there’d been this small niggling deep in the back corner of his mind that told him if she were to die, then he’d really and truly be all alone in this world.
Thirty minutes later, a nurse showed up. Spike followed at a respectable distance, not wanting to alert the watcher to his presence. He just needed to mark the room, then once the Slayer’s mom left, he’d slip in to make sure that she was all right, before nipping out for a bit of kip. He wouldn’t go far, just to a secure spot away from any sunlight that would soon be beaming in through the various windows of the hospital.
Even now his demon was telling him to seek shelter, the approaching dawn causing prickles of awareness to skate up and down along the back of his neck.
The Slayer’s mom and watcher didn’t stay long, wanting only to reassure themselves that she was ok before moving out of the way of the nurse that was seeing to her care. After they left and the nurse moved off to see to another patient, Spike slipped inside her room. One hand sought to hold hers, while the other pushed the hair back from her face.
She was pale. Paler than normal. But Spike could see faint traces of returning life in how she seemed to lean into his caress. The soft mumble of his name on her lips.
He didn’t smell her blood, or any signs of disease, to which he was extremely grateful. After a soft kiss to her brow, Spike slipped from the room and took the stairs to the basement.
Crouched in a darkened corner, the vampire leaned back against the wall and let sleep overtake him. It was a deep sleep, rife with dreams. About the Slayer…and him. In the last segue he was racing after her, her pleas for help getting further and further away until he could barely hear her call his name…
Spike woke with a start.
In a flash, he was on his feet and racing up the stairs leading to her room. The sunbeams filtering in through the windows of the staircase singed parts of his skin, but he didn’t care, paying little mind to the pain. His one thought: reach the Slayer.
She’d been calling him.
~*~*~*~*~
For the first time in over a month, Buffy awoke alone, no sign of the vampire that had been her constant companion anywhere in sight. That freaked her out almost as much as the fact that she’d woken in a hospital with various monitors hooked up to her body.
She began pulling at the lines, setting off various alarms. Moments later, a nurse showed, and as Buffy continued to struggle to gain her freedom, another, and then another, rushed into her room to get her to calm down. It wasn’t working, the people holding her squirming body down flat against the bed just increased her anxiety. When she felt one foot secured by a restraint, quickly followed by one to her hand, Buffy lost it.
“Spike!” she screamed his name over and over as she struggled to be free.
The Slayer was oblivious to the nurses as they attempted to calm her down, reassure her that she was alright and just recovering from surgery – she didn’t hear any of it. Her mind cried out for the vampire to rescue her, to take her away from these people and this place.
She felt the familiar tinglings that signaled his presence and she stopped struggling briefly – just long enough for a nurse to inject her with a sedative. Her eyes grew heavy, the drug rushing through her system quickly lulling her to sleep; she tried to stay awake to tell him not to hurt anyone – that she just wanted out of here – but her body was no match against the intravenous injection and went lax against her restraints, sinking back into the mattress.
Buffy didn’t hear the noise as people went crashing into equipment scattered about the small room. Nor did she feel the cool fingers that ripped sensors and IVs from her arms, legs, chest, and neck before the vampire hefted her into his arms and close to his chest to make good his escape.
~*~*~*~*~
The next time Buffy woke was to find her face pressed up against a cool, bare chest. She snuggled closer and felt the arms wrapped loosely around her back tighten in reflex. If it weren’t for the bandages wrapped around her middle, and the fact that there wasn’t a spot on her that didn’t ache in some way, she would have thought the confrontation with the assassins was just a dream. That her waking up alone and seemingly abandoned in some hospital room, no more than something conjured in her mind.
She lifted her head and wasn’t surprised to see him awake and watching her.
“Hey,” she mumbled.
“Hey there yourself, kitten. How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” she grumbled.
He smiled at her response. “Yeah, well, I imagine a sword to the gullet tends to do that.”
Amusement lit her eyes, his gentle teasing just what she needed to take her mind off her aches. She snuggled back against his chest and closed her eyes, the two just laying there in companionable silence. Buffy must have fallen asleep, because when she opened her eyes it was dark.
Spike wasn’t in bed with her, but he was near. She rolled over and watched as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips.
“Jus’ gonna nip out and get us a bite to eat. Hungry?” He walked over and sat down on the mattress beside her. Tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear, he eyed her intently, looking for any signs that she might still be in pain. “How do you feel?”
“Sore…but better.” Her hand reached up to grip the one he still held against her cheek. “Hurry back?”
Spike nodded then rose to slip into a dark pair of slacks and pullover shirt, forgoing his Doc Martins for the casual shoes he’d been wearing when he arrived in Sunnydale.
Buffy watched every move he made, the unconscious sensuality of his movements making her wish she wasn’t quite as banged up as she was. She spotted his glasses lying on the nightstand and reached her hand out to grab them.
“Don’t forget these,” she called out, dangling them between thumb and forefinger.
The vampire quirked his brow at her.
“What? I think they’re sexy.” She tried to wiggle her eyebrows at him, but failed miserably.
He grumbled under his breath but snatched the glasses out of her hand, nonetheless.
“Don’t open the door for anyone.”
Buffy rolled her eyes at him. “As if I could get out of bed.”
“See that you don’t.”
Then he was gone and already she was missing him.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 15 | | | | abc + + + | | | He could hear the pandemonium inside the house on Revello Drive as he drew near. Their panic as they hypothesized on what might have happened to the Slayer ringing loud and clear in his ears. Why he was even putting himself at risk like this was anyone’s question. But, after witnessing firsthand the Slayer’s mum’s anguish, he didn’t think he could contribute to it anymore by keeping the location of her daughter a secret.
He rang the doorbell, listening intently as the sounds within died abruptly, then someone moved away from the group in the living room and towards the door.
It opened, and Spike stood face to face with the woman that had beamed him in the noggin with an axe.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he told her, trying to affect an American accent. “It’s just…my car died, and I was wondering if I might use your phone to call a tow truck?”
Her gruff exterior melted in the face of his boyish charm and she uttered the words Giles had told her repeatedly never to say after dark.
“Certainly. Please…come in. The phone is in the kitchen.”
The vampire smiled and stepped across the threshold. Now, if he could just get her alone…
Seeing the kitchen through the dining room, he moved off in that direction, completely avoiding having to pass in front of the living room – where the Slayer’s mates were gathered – and down the hallway. Joyce seemed slightly startled at his move, and he threw a boyish grin over his shoulder. “This way?”
She shook off her hesitation and smiled, nodding as she motioned him towards the kitchen.
“Who is it, Joyce?” Giles called out from the living room a minute later. His voice was getting louder as he spoke, like he was walking towards the kitchen. Fuck! This wasn’t going to work. In the dark, his disguise might fool the watcher. But, in the bright lights of the kitchen, the observant man would easily discern his identity.
“Sorry, Joyce,” he apologized just before he slipped an arm around her neck and drew her body in front of his chest like a shield. She let out a gasp of shock, which seemed to bring the watcher into the room even faster.
~*~
Giles rushed into the kitchen and ground to a halt at the sight before him. A well-dressed man had Joyce held captive in front of him. He didn’t appear threatening, if you discounted the whole hostage scenario. It was more like the man was just waiting to see what he was going to do.
A moment later, Willow and Xander bumped into his back, peeking over his shoulder to see inside the room.
“You…you let her go…y-you mean person, you,” Willow bravely demanded from her place behind him.
“Ahhh, Red. Still as feisty as ever, I see,” Spike remarked, his eyes never leaving the watcher’s. He waited expectly, the dawning realization in older man's gaze slowly transforming his features when he realized whom it was that held Joyce captive. How he tried to tamp down his fear and put on a brave front for the others.
“What do you want?” Giles ground out.
“The Slayer’s mum here. Me and her are gonna take a li’l walk. Have us a nice chat.”
“Over my dead body!”
Spike cocked his head to the side as he regarded the man. The Slayer’s friends hadn’t caught on yet who he was, but it was only a matter of time. “Much as I might wish it were so, I promised the Slayer I’d behave.”
That statement had Joyce angling her head back to look at the man holding her. “Buffy? You’ve seen Buffy?” she demanded anxiously.
The vampire spared her a quick glance, giving her a slight nod before his eyes returned to where the watcher was trying to shift closer to them.
“Ah. Ah. Ah…that’s far enough. I’d hate to have to go back on my promise.”
Giles stopped.
“My daughter? She’s ok?” Joyce asked him, struggling to remain calm, equal parts of fear and elation threatening to overwhelm her.
“She’s fine. Li’l worse for wear, given the situation. But, she’ll be right as rain in no time a’tal.”
“Oh thank god!” She seemed to slump with relief in his arms, and Spike found himself having to tighten his grip around her waist to keep her upright.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“If you want to see her, meet me at the school in an hour. Come alone.”
Then, Spike shoved her into the waiting arms of the watcher and was out the kitchen door the next moment.
~*~*~*~*~
“What did he say?” Giles asked as he caught Joyce in his arms.
“He…I…” In a move perfected by women centuries before when trying to avoid answering a question, Joyce affected a faint. Ignoring her conscience that told her to come clean with Rupert, she allowed herself to be half-led, half-carried, to the couch in the living room. He’d said come alone. Now all she had to do was get rid of the small group huddled around her so that she could do just that.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I-It’s just…finding Buffy in the hospital, and then going back to find that she’d been taken…it’s taken its toll. Now I have some strange man barging into my house…”
“That was no man,” Giles told her. “That was Spike…a vampire.”
“Spike?!” gasped Xander.
“What?” eeped Willow at the same time.
“What would a vampire be doing here, in my home?” Joyce questioned.
“He’s always had a fascination with Slayers and has been credited with killing two of them…one in China, back when he was first turned. The other in New York during the seventies. Why he’s back now is anyone’s guess,” the watcher replied. “It’s safe to say that whatever his reasons, it can’t be good. And now he’s got an open invitation to your home.”
Joyce responded to the censorious tone.
“I’m sorry, Rupert. I wasn’t thinking.” And, truthfully, she hadn’t been. The seemingly nice, well-dressed young man standing outside her door had looked like the furthest thing from a monster. There’d been something in his eyes, too. A grudging respect, maybe. Although, thinking on it now, she must have been mistaken.
“Yes, well…maybe you should see about staying at a hotel for the night. At least until we can see about a disinvite spell. We’ll have to let Kendra know.”
“I’ll just go pack an overnight bag,” Joyce told him as she gained her feet.
Giles nodded. “I’ll wait here for you, then see about getting Xander and Willow home. You’ll get something for Kendra?”
“Certainly.”
Ten minutes later, the small group left the house. Willow and Xander went with Giles towards his small, light blue relic; Joyce climbed into her Jeep. She’d told the watcher that she would book two rooms at the hotel downtown and leave word with the night clerk that Kendra would be by later to pick up her room key.
“Very good. I’ll drop the children off and see if I can catch up with Kendra on patrol.”
Joyce waved goodbye then hurried off to reserve her rooms. She figured she’d have just enough time to do that before she had to be at the school.
~*~*~*~*~
The vampire seemed to materialize out of thin air when she pulled into the high school parking lot. She unlocked the door to allow him entry, hoping on the fact that if he had wanted to kill her, he would have done so already.
“We’ve gotta make a stop first,” he told her as he slid into the passenger seat. “Slayer’s hungry, and I wasn’t quite sure what to get her.”
Joyce nodded, unable to speak, the tears of joy flooding her eyes making it difficult for her to navigate.
“She’s really ok?”
“Yeah…”
~*~
“I’ll wait here,” he told her when she pulled into a grocery store parking lot. “You’ve got ten minutes, or I’m gone.”
“I’ll hurry.”
She was back in eight, and would have been back sooner, if it weren’t for the shift change. Her arms were loaded with all types of food, his warning making her grab just about anything that her hand came into contact with as she'd hurried down the aisles.
For the next twenty minutes, Joyce felt like she was driving in circles until she was about to brave telling the vampire to quit yanking her chain.
“Pull in here.”
Joyce did like he asked, and when she parked the car, it dawned on her that she was in one of the less savory areas of Sunnydale. Her body tensed with fear that she’d been so gullible…
“I said ’m not goin' to hurt you,” he growled, sensing her growing agitation. “Jus’ had to make sure we weren’t bein’ followed. Now, come on. Your car should be fine here.”
He climbed out of the vehicle and she did the same, her eyes widening in shock when he grabbed the two bags of food out of the back seat.
‘A vampire with manners?’
“This way…and stay close.”
Another ten minutes spent watching their back and Spike finally led the Slayer’s mother to their room.
~*~*~*~*~
“It’s about time—”
Buffy’s rant died off as she watched her mom walk in behind Spike.
“Mommy?” The little girl whisper had Joyce flying across the room with no regard to the vampire.
“Buffy! Oh, my baby!”
“Mommy!”
Spike calmly shut and locked the door as the two women embraced, laughing and crying together.
“Oh, Buffy. I was so worried. When I got the news you’d been hurt…and then…and then you’d been taken from me again…” The elder woman was openly weeping now.
“It’s ok, mom.” she soothed. “Spike…he was just protecting me. I guess I kinda panicked when I came to after surgery and he wasn’t there. But, I’m fine now…see.”
The Slayer leaned away from her mother to show her the gaping wound that had closed completely and was just a red puckered scar.
“In a few days, you won’t even be able to see that,” she told her.
“Not if you don’t eat,” Spike grumbled.
“Oh! What kind of mother am I? You must be starving!”
“Maybe just a little bit…” Ravenous was more like it, hence the gripe that the vampire had taken so long. But, a few hunger pangs were worth it to have her mother here with her right now.
Joyce stood up and grabbed one of the two bags that Spike had placed on the bureau. “I wasn’t sure what you might want, so I got a bit of everything.”
“Anything’s fine,” Buffy told her. She watched as her mom reached into the bag and pulled out a can of soup. “That works.”
Spike was by the Slayer’s side and had taken the can from Joyce’s hand before she could even stand up. He walked to the small kitchenette and set about putting the soup in a bowl to microwave.
Buffy just shrugged off his behavior. To explain their relationship would take more time and energy than she had right now.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught him stiffen, his eyes narrowed on the door.
“Mom, can you go get my hairbrush out of the bathroom,” Buffy asked, trying to get her mother out of the way. Whatever it was that was out there…it would have to get through her first.
“Sure, honey,” she replied, completely oblivious to the undertones in the room.
Joyce was halfway to the bathroom when Spike ground out, “Oh bloody hell.”
Buffy looked at him confused.
The vampire stormed over to the door and unbolted the locks, throwing the door wide. He vamped and growled at the cross that was suddenly thrust in his face by Buffy’s watcher.
“Rupert!” Joyce gasped upon seeing their visitor.
Confused, Giles glanced around the brassed off vampire to see Buffy’s mother staring at him guiltily. His distraction cost him, and he thought he was going to meet his maker when Spike quickly disarmed him and dragged him inside the room.
“Giles?” Buffy called from the bed.
“Buffy? Buffy! You’re all right!”
“Of course I am!”
Spike rolled his eyes and secured the door once more before returning to the microwave.
“I’m sorry for lying to you, Rupert,” Joyce apologized as she sat on the opposite side of the bed. “But, he told me I could only see her if I came alone…and how did you know where I was?”
“I hate to say this, Joyce, but you’re a rather horrible liar. I followed you after I saw Xander and Willow home. Almost missed you at the hotel you were checked in so fast.”
He pulled off his glasses and collapsed in a chair beside the Slayer’s bed. His mind refused to touch the fact that there was only one bed. The whole situation was too surreal to contemplate. Here he was, his Slayer lying in bed, evidently healing just fine. Her mother was sitting on the far edge of the bed, eyes barely leaving her daughter. And, in the corner was Spike. Evil, soulless, killed-two-Slayers-working-on-my-third Spike.
To top it off, he was making dinner…for Buffy.
The watcher felt like he’d stepped into the twilight zone.
“Would somebody mind explaining to me just what the bloody hell is going on?” Giles demanded rather flabbergasted.
Buffy looked at her watcher and started laughing, which caused the man to blush three shades of red at losing his composure.
~*~*~*~*~
“I knew it was you,” Giles murmured some time later, pride evident in his voice. “I just didn’t think you had any help. How did you get him in?”
“I invited him.”
The owlish blink brought forth a chuckle from the vampire. Spike hadn’t said a word as the Slayer had told them all that they’d done the previous month, starting with their both being targeted by the Order, up until last night’s final confrontation with the few that had been lurking around Sunnydale.
The watcher had listened intently throughout, sometimes murmuring a soft compliment at their fortuitousness. Joyce was near tears by the end, especially when she explained in a monotone voice the details of the battle.
“Invited him?” he asked incredulous. “All you had to do was invite him in?”
“Always thought the Council of Wankers was a bit arrogant in their thinking,” Spike commented.
Giles turned and glared at the smug vampire before he remembered that he was evil and soulless and could easily have him for a light snack. Spike just cocked a brow and dared the man to deny his claim. Realizing the futility of engaging in a battle of wits against Spike, he turned back to his Slayer.
“And the books?”
“In our bags,” she told him. “We’re narrowing down the list of possibilities as to the location of their stronghold.”
“Wait!” Joyce interrupted. “You mean last night…that wasn’t the end of it.”
“No.”
“But…”
“I’m sorry, mom,” Buffy told her. “I can’t stay. I wouldn’t even be back now if it weren’t for the threat against you guys.”
“Slayer’s right. They’re just going to keep coming at us until either we’re dead, or they are,” Spike told her matter-of-factly.
“Oh Buffy!”
“There has to be a way…” Giles began, only to be cut off by the slayer.
“There is. I leave.”
She glanced at her mom, hardening herself to the emotion she saw churning in the elder woman’s eyes.
“I can’t stay. If I do, I’m only putting you all in danger, and I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”
“But where will you go? What will you do?” Joyce just couldn’t process the fact that she was going to have to give up her daughter all over again.
“Wherever we have to and whatever we need to,” she stated.
“When will you—”
“Tomorrow night, the day after at the latest. We need to take care of a few things before we leave…” She turned to Giles. “…and I was hoping that you could look over the notes we’ve made so far on the location of the Order. See if we’re not missing something.”
Giles nodded somberly.
Buffy glanced at Spike and he could see how tired she was, how emotionally drained.
“Much as I’ve enjoyed this little reunion of sorts, it’s time for the Slayer’s bedtime. We’ll see you at Joyce’s just before sunup. Rupes, I’ll trust you to see the Slayer’s mum to her car?”
“Yes, of course…”
“But how will you…” Joyce began. She grabbed her purse, fumbling in one of the pockets for her keys.
“Here,” she told Spike as she handed the vampire her keys. “Take these and drive over later. I’ll have Rupert run me home.”
Joyce returned to her daughter’s side and brushed a quick kiss to her brow, telling her to get some sleep.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Buffy just nodded. If they didn’t leave soon, she was going to break down and cry in front of them.
Spike saw them to the door.
“Don’t tell the hospital that she’s been located,” he told them quietly. “Better for us to disappear if she’s never found, yeah?”
They both nodded and waved farewell.
He managed to shed his clothes and climb into bed before the Slayer burst into tears. Dinner –that had been cooling as she retold her story – was forgotten while she poured out her grief at the thought of never seeing her mother or friends again. Spike held her while she cried, mindful of her injuries. Eventually, she managed to drift off, lulled by the soothing rumble of his chest and the soft caress of his touch.
About an hour before dawn, he woke her by lifting her into his arms for the short walk to where Joyce had parked her car – he’d already loaded their stuff beforehand. In half the time as it took last night, Spike was pulling into the driveway on Revello Drive.
Neither Joyce nor the watcher must have slept because both of them were standing outside the vehicle before he could even turn off the engine. Spike opened the door and exited the Jeep, pocketing the keys before walking around to the other side and lifting a dozing Slayer in his arms.
Minutes later, he was lowering her onto the bed in her room with the instruction to go back to sleep. Buffy mumbled something that sounded like an agreement before rolling to her side and drifting off. He pulled the covers over her body and quietly exited the room.
At the bottom of the stairs, he greeted both Joyce and the watcher as they came in with their belongings.
“I’ve got a cot fixed up for you in the basement,” she told him.
“Tha’s fine.” He grabbed the stuff out of her hands, hints of the manners he’d shed long ago suddenly resurfacing. “Thanks. Well, I’ll jus’ be off.”
“I think Spike has the right of it,” Giles murmured after the vampire had disappeared below. “You should get some rest, Joyce.”
She nodded. “You’ll be alright on the couch?”
It had been decided that he’d stay here, keep Kendra calm once she woke to find a vampire in the house and thought to stake first and ask questions later. They’d searched the cemeteries but hadn’t been able to find her, and once returning home, noticed that she was in bed asleep.
“I’ll be fine.”
She nodded at him, her eyes suddenly sad.
“I’m going to have to give her up, aren’t I?”
He moved closer, his hand lifting to stroke her face.
“A Slayer’s life is destined to be a short one. At least… maybe with Spike at her side, she’ll last a bit longer.”
“It’s just…I’d hoped…”
Giles wrapped his arms around her and drew her head to his shoulder.
“Shhhh… I know.”
He held her while sobs wracked her body, allowing her to cry the tears that he couldn’t shed. When she was spent, he guided her up the stairs to her bedroom and over to her bed. He didn’t speak as he pulled off her shoes and helped her slip beneath the covers, just performed the motions as a father would a child. Afterwards, he leaned over her and kissed her cheek.
“Get some sleep, Joyce.”
Then he straightened and quietly left the room.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy woke not thirty minutes later. She knew Spike was near, the tingles on her neck were there, just not as strong when she slept with him. With the sun beginning to peek through her curtains, she figured out where he was and hastily gained her feet to hurry to the basement.
She’d gotten used to sleeping with the vampire, and if she stayed in her own bed, all she’d do was toss and turn.
As quiet as she could be with her cracked ribs and healing wounds, she descended the staircase and made a sharp turn into the kitchen. A moment later she opened the basement door and walked down another flight of stairs.
He was waiting for her, stretched out on his side on the cot, his arm holding the covers away from his body so she could slide in next to him.
She did just that and sighed in contentment as she cuddled close and went back to sleep. In the darkened corner of the basement, the slayer curled up next to him, Spike finally allowed himself to sleep.
~*~
Giles watched his Slayer make her way down the stairs and toward the kitchen. There was no doubt in his mind of her destination. The two had obviously formed a bond this past month, one that defied everything that he’d been taught as a watcher-in-training.
That Spike hadn’t killed her, or them, baffled him just as much as it amazed him. Their behavior was definitely due a long write-up in his diary.
But not now.
Now he needed to sleep, and later he had to help his slayer.
Afterward, then he’d see to it. Immortalize the bond between these two mortal enemies on paper…even if it did get him thrown out of the Council.
| | | | |
| Alone No More - Ch. 16 | | | | abc + + + | | | Spike woke up about an hour or so after noon … starving. He’d not fed last night, more concerned with getting Joyce to her daughter. The thrum of blood in the Slayer’s veins was too powerful a lure to be denied. He could take just a little and that would hold him over until nightfall. And, he’d definitely need the nourishment if he were going to be around her watcher for the rest of the afternoon poring over books and the notes he and the Slayer had managed to accumulate.
His hands found their way beneath her clothes, slowing arousing her body. He was rock hard, his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, and he couldn’t help but grind himself into her ass. She didn’t seem to mind, caught up in the feel of his hands gliding over her flesh, teasing her. His fingers slid beneath her knickers to tease her slit, until they were slick with her response.
She was moaning softly now, completely caught up in what he was doing to her, how he was making her feel. His fangs pierced her flesh at the same time he slid two fingers deep inside her and he couldn’t help the moan of pleasure as her blood spilled onto his tongue. The Slayer arched against him, driving his fangs deeper into her neck, oblivious to the slight pain that action caused, her body responding automatically to the gliding motion of his fingers.
Spike forced himself to go slow, to where he was just swallowing her blood as it filled his mouth, rather than sucking deeply at the holes at her throat.
When the door to the basement opened, he growled possessively, his amber gaze searching out the person that had dared to enter his territory.
~*~
“Buffy? Are you down here? Giles told me to wake you up…he had—”
His voice trailed off as the light from above shined down on the two people lying together on the cot. Xander could only stare in horror as Spike slowly drained his friend dry. When the signals coming from his brain finally reached his voice box and legs, he hollered for Giles while he raced back up the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike didn’t move when the basement was suddenly flooded with light and no fewer than five people clamored down the stairs to see what was going on. He growled louder, the warning tone snapping the Slayer out of the sexual haze she’d been in just moments ago.
Buffy opened her heavy-lidded eyes to see expressions ranging from shock, to anger, to outright fear, on the faces of her friends and family. She moved to reassure them, tell them that she was all right, but as if sensing her intentions, the grip around her body tightened, the growl increasing.
“Let her go…you… you…” Willow ’s voice trailed off, unable to come up with a scathing enough insult, “vampire” just not having the right connotation at this moment.
The Slayer’s eyes moved over the faces of her friends, seeking out her watcher. If she calmed him down, then maybe they could explain the situation without the use of pointy wood entering the conversation. And a quick glance at her sister Slayer said it wasn’t going to take much for that to happen – she was poised to fight and was just looking for an opening.
Her gaze locked with Giles’, her eyes silently imploring him to get the others to leave. He seemed to hesitate, which only made Spike growl again.
“Please, Giles, just go…we’ll be up in a minute.” Then her eyes shifted to her mother. “Mom, I’m fine. Just—”
“Come on everyone. You heard my daughter.” Joyce’s no-nonsense voice rang out and the small troupe reluctantly made their way upstairs.
His fingers had stilled inside her, but the moment the door clicked shut, he was moving them again, forcing all thought away until nothing remained but the feel of him inside her. The other hand that had been wrapped around her middle, snaked up her abdomen to tease her breast, alternately rubbing first one hardened peak and then the other.
In seconds, she was writhing in front of him again, the dying embers stoked to a burning flame under his skillful hands. She clamored to get closer, needing him inside her…but he ignored her subtle pleas, content to bring her off with hands alone.
Then she didn’t care anymore, because she was flying. The sucking at her neck increased as her climax tore through her body, drawing out the moment until it was almost too much.
Her rigid muscles eventually relaxed and she sank bonelessly into the cot.
Spike withdrew his fangs, the rumbling in his chest automatic while he laved at the fresh set of marks. That seen to, he slid his fingers free and paid them the same attention he had her neck, the heady taste of her pleasure the next best thing to her blood.
When he was finished, he curled up around her and silently willed his hard-on away. Not an easy feat given her proximity, or the fact that he now had her taste in his mouth. In front of him, he could feel her start to doze off, and he shook her awake.
“Uh uh, luv. We don’t make an appearance soon and all bets are gonna be off. Come on now, up you go,” he coaxed.
“Do we have to?” she whined, though she obediently sat up on the cot.
“Where’s that hard-as-nails Slayer from yesterday?”
“Right here, and so not wanting to explain why I’ve become your chew toy.” She ran her fingers through her hair then stood, a resigned sigh escaping her lips at the coming confrontation. Spike was a step behind her, snagging the shirt he’d worn the night before from the floor and slipping it over his head.
“So don’t,” he stated in his no-nonsense manner. “You don’t owe them any explanations. Besides, tomorrow night we’ll be gone and…”
He stopped at seeing her stricken expression, moving to her side so that he could draw her close. “Hey, now. None of that.”
“It’s just—”
“I know.” And he did. No matter how much the little girl in her might want to stay, the Slayer in her knew she couldn’t. The first time she’d left, every last drop of emotion, save rage, had been drained from her, so that she hadn’t cared one way or another. The carefree girl was gone, and in her place was a cold-blooded killer intent on revenge – at whatever cost.
But, she’d been slowly opening herself up in recent weeks, allowing herself to feel again.
Seeing her mother hadn’t been something for which she’d been prepared. The Slayer had thought she could slip into Sunnydale and back out again with no one being the wiser, without any contact with those she’d left behind. Now, when she left, she knew what she’d be giving up. No more friends. No more family. Just an evil vampire as a companion.
“Come on. Your mates are probably gettin' anxious. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can see how much that watcher of yours knows.”
He pulled away from her and directed her towards the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy stood protectively in front of Spike as the two paused in the hallway leading to the living room. Five sets of eyes looked up at their approach, none of them knowing quite what to say after what they’d all witnessed in the basement. The fact that the girl standing before them looked nothing like their Buffy also lending to the silence.
Then Xander being Xander had to open his mouth and cram his foot down it like usual.
“Sooo… Buffy, another vampire, huh?” he said snidely.
A growl erupted from Spike’s chest, but the Slayer was faster. She was across the room and had her friend pinned up against the wall in a matter of seconds. Her forearm dug into his neck, her glare as cold as ice.
Everyone in the room froze, watching in shocked silence Buffy strongholding Xander. Kendra looked like she was ready to go after Spike, but Joyce put a calming hand on her wrist – the vampire just smiled at the dark-skinned Slayer.
Then all eyes turned to Buffy as she spoke to Xander in a voice no one had heard before, save Spike.
“I don’t even know why I came back. Shoulda’ just told the Order to let them have you.” Her cold stare boring into the boy that she’d once called friend. “Ya know… fuck you, Xander. I neither want, nor do I have to, explain myself to you.” Her head swiveled to Willow . “Anything you care to add while we’re all in a sharing mood.”
“N-no…no… I…”
“Buffy, that’s enough,” Giles interrupted.
“Enough? Enough? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through this last month? Any? Then to come back, dispense with the threat to all of your lives, only to have you judge me? Well, screw you,” she yelled.
“Buffy…honey. No one’s—”
“Oh please, mom. You guys took one look at him feeding from my neck and assumed the worse. Never mind that he’s been by my side since I left…”
“Slayer…” Spike called out calmly.
“What?” Her head turned to regard him.
“Let ‘im go, luv.”
Buffy turned back to see Xander twitching. She stepped back abruptly, leveling him with a look of disgust before returning to the vampire’s side. Ignoring Xander’s coughing, and how Willow rushed to his side, she stepped close to Spike and waited for him to wrap his arms around her.
He did, pulling her close to his chest, his stance just daring anyone to object.
“We should just go,” Buffy mumbled under her breath. She was tired. And this drama wasn’t something that she really needed to deal with.
Spike didn’t care one way or the other; if the Slayer wanted to leave, they’d leave. He turned around, leading her out of the room and back to the basement to get their things.
“Wait!” Giles called out. The two stopped but didn’t turn around. “You wanted me to look over your notes. Please…stay. Let me try to help you.” Joyce would never forgive them if her daughter walked away right now.
“Alright,” Spike replied after a time. “We’ll grab the books and meet you in the dining room.”
Giles breathed a sigh of relief, and he felt Joyce’s hand slip in his and give it a gentle squeeze of thanks. A moment later, she stepped away and headed for the kitchen to see about some snacks; it was probably going to be a late night and if she remembered correctly, her daughter hadn’t eaten her soup before she’d left, and it was doubtful she ate it once she was gone. “Kendra, can you get the curtains in the dining room?”
“Certainly, Miz Summers,” the Slayer replied in her heavily accented voice. A part of her wanted to argue, but she held her tongue…for now.
When Giles was alone with Willow and Xander, he turned to the boy, his displeasure evident on his features.
“Xander, if you can’t keep your mouth shut, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Buffy is only here until tomorrow night and I’ll not have her last moments with her mother spoiled by the jealous ramblings of—”
“Buffy’s leaving?” Willow interrupted, somewhat confused.
The watcher pulled his glasses off, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Yes, Willow. Buffy knows she can’t stay here. Both she and Spike are targets of the Order of Taraka. For her to stay would be to put us all in danger. It’s why she left before. Until…unless she can find them…well, suffice to say, she’s never coming back. That she’s managed to stay alive this long proves what a good team she and Spike make.”
“Oh my God…that’s just…how awful.”
“Yes, it is rather that.” His gaze shifted from the redhead back to the boy, his harsh expression giving way in the face of the slayer’s stark reality.
“Good riddance,” he ground out as he stormed towards the front door.
“Xander!” Willow cried. He ignored her, slamming out the front door and away from the Summers’ home. She stared in shock at the open door, not comprehending how her friend could just walk away after everything they’d been through in the last year and a half.
“He didn’t mean it, Willow,” Giles told her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’s just angry and upset. It’s his way of dealing. He’ll be back.”
“I’ve never seen him like this,” she confessed. “He’s usually so easygoing…”
“Yes, well.” He coughed, unsure what exactly to say. Instead, he changed the subject, returning his glasses to his face. “Would you like to stay around for an impromptu research party?”
“You betcha.”
“Come on then.”
~*~*~*~*~
Conversation was stilted around the dining room table, everyone trying to put on a good front in the face of Xander’s glaring absence. Eventually, the books and research consumed them and more notes were scribbled down, hypotheses made.
Through it all, Joyce marveled at the resilience of her daughter.
How she’d taken every punch and low blow life had to offer her and kept coming back for more. The fact that she was on death’s doorstep just the day before and now, she had her nose buried in a book, all in an effort to find those that were trying to kill her – so she could go to them. Face them on their own turf.
The pride she had for her daughter knew no bounds. The mental image Joyce had at this moment, something to sustain her in the months, perhaps years, ahead. Her face a mask of determination as she concentrated on the text place on the table in front of her.
Joyce watched as her daughter often looked over at the vampire. How the light in her eyes dimmed a bit as he excused himself at sunset, before she shook off the feeling and returned to her reading. When he came back, she noticed that he had a bag for her…dinner apparently, and watched while Buffy pulled the hamburger and fries out of the bag. That forced Joyce to see about their own meal, the idea of pizza met with approval all the way around – including Buffy - who’d finished off the food Spike had brought her - and Spike.
After eating, Kendra left to patrol. Buffy didn’t even bother to get up and go with her 1) because she didn’t think Spike would let her out of his sight, and 2) she was still a bit sore from her run in with the Order’s assassins the other night. Instead, she continued to read until her eyes started to cross and the words on the page started to blur.
Around eleven o’clock , Spike called a halt to the Slayer’s involvement, sending her off to bed to rest. Her friend, Willow, was starting to droop in her chair as well, and he offered to take her home. That neither she, nor Giles, balked at his suggestion showed that they were trying to get along, and a moment later the redhead and the vampire disappeared out the front door.
“Why don’t you go on up to bed, Joyce?”
“What about you?”
“I’ve got some things I want to look over first. Besides, there’s always the couch,” he responded.
“Alright then. Good night, Rupert.”
“Good night.”
~*~*~*~*~
When Spike returned, it was to find the dining room deserted, save the watcher. Neither spoke when he gained his seat and picked up the book he’d been reading before. The soft rustling of the aged pages broke the silence, as did the occasional scrawl of the pen on paper as Giles wrote. Towards dawn, Spike had had enough and stood to make his way downstairs.
“Does she know?” Giles asked just as he reached the kitchen.
Spike had to suppress a smile. He knew the watcher was an observant man, that he’d notice right off the different set of marks on her neck that the Slayer had done nothing to hide. But, it wasn’t any of business of this man. Like the Slayer said, they owed no one an explanation. It leant a harshness to his response.
“She accepted me.”
“But does she know,” Giles persisted.
“She will…in time.”
“You…care for her,” he whispered, astonished. The realization shook his very foundation. A truce was one thing. For a vampire, one not hindered by a soul, to develop feelings…and for the very thing that was created to destroy their kind.
“Yes.” Spike stood and made to leave the room.
“Then you’ll look after her?”
“Goes without saying, mate.”
Giles waited until the vampire was out of earshot, the whispered thank you that left his lips something he could never say to his face.
But Spike heard it anyway.
~*~
Giles researched for the remainder of the night, ignoring his body’s demand for rest. When he felt his eyes start to close, he put a pot of tea on to boil. Joyce had invested in the teakettle after he’d become a frequent visitor in the wake of Buffy’s disappearance.
His fingers flew across the paper as he scribbled note after note in his effort to make sense of all the cryptic writing he’d come across. He just prayed the vampire would be able to read his writing. When he was finished translating what he could, he grabbed a fresh set of sheets and began composing a letter to his Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy carefully disentangled herself from the sleeping vampire and climbed off of the cot. She was feeling better today, her body almost healed from the beating she’d taken. After a shower, she’d feel like a brand new Slayer.
Twenty minutes later, she was feeling much like her old self. She took a moment to slather on the beauty products she’d done without the past month, the faint fragrance of jasmine perfuming her skin rather than the hotel bar soap she’d gotten used to. She’d have to see if she could splurge once in a while when she and Spike were on their own again.
She made her way into the kitchen and greeted her mother and Kendra. The smell of freshly made pancakes caused her stomach to rumble loudly.
“Sit down. Eat,” Joyce laughed.
“Thanks, mom.” She took a small stack, slathering them with butter and pouring syrup over the top. At the first bite, she hummed her pleasure. “These are great!”
“Well, eat up. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Buffy ate two helpings before she finally pushed her plate away. “I can’t eat another bite.”
Joyce smiled at her daughter, glad she could do this one last thing for her.
Reluctantly, Buffy gained her feet. “I’ve got to take care of a few things. If Spike wakes up, tell him I’ll be back shortly.”
She turned to Kendra. “I can trust you to leave him be, can’t I?”
“I’ll no’ be harmin’ ‘im, if’n he behaves ‘imself,” she confirmed.
“Ok.” She grinned at the girl and stood.
“Do you need me to take you?” her mom asked.
“No. I’ll be fine. I should be back in a couple of hours.”
“Ok. Be careful, sweetie.”
~*~
Buffy walked into the bar. It was too early for customers, but the owner was there for the deliveries being made.
“Willie! Remember me?”
Willie glanced over at the obviously dyed redhead, his gaze taking in the harsh clothing and pale features. If she wasn’t standing smack dab in the middle of a sunbeam, he could have sworn she was a vampire. There was just something about her, the confident attitude that clearly defined her as a predator, rather than the prey.
“Uh…”
The Slayer walked over to the bar, easily vaulting over the top so that she could pin the slimy bartender up against the wall. Glasses wobbled precariously and bottles threatened to topple over and shatter on the ground.
Willie was ready to shit in his pants. The girl holding him so effortlessly against the wall brought recollection of another…
“Slayer?”
“Give the man a cookie!”
“Uhhh… what can I do for you?”
“You can take me to see your friend Harry again.”
“Harry? Oh, right! Harry! Sure, Slayer…whatever you say.”
~*~*~*~*~
The rest of the day went by too fast for Joyce. The imminent nightfall something she wished with all her heart that she could hold off.
Xander had returned earlier in the day to make amends. Her daughter had accepted his apology, but Joyce could see the stiffness in her actions, like she was waiting for the boy to try something, say something.
Both he and Willow had left just moments before, neither of them willing to witness the Slayer’s final goodbye. Each of them praying for their friend’s success against the Order.
Right now, Buffy was upstairs in her room, talking to Kendra while she packed away her things. No doubt telling the girl all about how she used to climb in and out of her window via the tree so that she could patrol. Well, with Joyce now aware of certain things, she’d be using the front door. The three had talked earlier, and Buffy had insisted that her sister Slayer take her room and move out of the tiny spare bedroom; it was nothing more than a storage area, and it wasn’t like her room was going to see any use. Kendra had finally relented and after Willow and Xander had left, Buffy had taken a box out of the basement to pack away the affects that had made the room “hers,” sealing it up to be put in storage.
Joyce felt the minutes continue to tick by, sensed the approaching night by the shift of the shadows in the kitchen. Too soon! she told herself. She wasn’t ready to let her baby go. She was supposed to graduate high school, and then Joyce was supposed to let her daughter spread her wings just a little bit as she went away to college, and then finally letting go once she got married.
But not now.
Buffy was only sixteen.
It wasn’t time…
Joyce reined in her emotions. If she got to thinking too hard about what ifs, she’d never be able to keep her composure. She just needed to have faith in her daughter. Buffy would find this Order and decimate them. Then she’d come home, back where she belonged.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy packed away the last item, noticing the sun slip behind the trees.
It was time.
Lifting the box in her arms, she said a quick goodbye to Kendra, giving her room a last glance, before she turned and made her way down the stairs.
In the basement, she saw that Spike had just finished packing away their belongings. She put the box on one of the shelves then preceded him up the stairs for their final goodbyes.
Her watcher was first. The awkwardness of his affection warmed her heart, the quick hug and his blusterings something that would stay with her forever. He really was more like a father to her than her own had been. He gave her a stack of notes and added a couple of his own texts, which she stuck in her bag for later.
Then came her mom.
She threw herself in her mother’s arms, hugging her tightly as she tried desperately not to cry. Buffy wasn’t quite sure how long they stayed like that, only that she didn’t want it to be over. The finality of the moment not lost on either of them.
Spike’s words cut short her goodbye.
Time to go.
Buffy pulled away, felt the brush of her mother’s hand across her cheek one last time before she turned and walked out the front door behind the vampire.
She didn’t turn around.
Didn’t see her mother sag helplessly against her watcher as she gave in to her grief.
Eyes staring straight ahead, she climbed into the cab that would take them to the airport.
Their destination: the next clue to the puzzle.
The Middle East .
~*~*~*~*~
Joyce did like Spike asked, never telling the hospital that she’d seen her daughter. Eventually, the staff forgot about the day that some crazed man in black stormed into the ICU and kidnapped one Buffy Summers. The trail grew cold, and like so many before her, her disappearance was soon relegated to the back burner by local law enforcement, until it was eventually filed away in the “unsolved cases” drawer.
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