Alone No More

Chapter 6

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 they’d spent all year saving for, she thought wistfully. Something so far removed from what she and Spike were doing here, it brought a pang to her heart. A feeling of homesickness washed over her, so acute it caused her to pause a moment and catch her breath before she broke down in tears.

Those couples, the 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 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 their 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 one-eighty 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 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 once 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 before 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 when 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, her fingers having tightened reflexively around it. 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 crescent marks that bled crimson 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 sunk into her neck, pulling her blood into his mouth as his cocked pulsed with his release.

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 had looked 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.

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