Chapter 5
Kendra walked into the library alone. All eyes lifted towards the swinging double doors at the sound of her approach. She’d stayed at her sister Slayer’s house for as long as she dared before finally making her way over to the school. She’d ignored the ringing phone – not that she’d answer it anyway – but she’d figured it was Buffy’s watcher calling to find out where the two were.
“Where’s Buffy?” Giles asked as the dark-skinned Slayer came to stand by their table.
“She ees gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean…gone?” Xander asked, confused.
“When’s she going to be back,” Willow asked almost at the same time as Xander. Her naïve mind hadn’t grasped that when Kendra had said gone, she had meant for good.
“She ees not comin back,” Kendra announced in her heavily accented voice. “She t’ought it would be for de best. Better her alone, den her family and her friends too, she said. I will stay ‘ere in her place.”
Giles took off his glasses as he leaned back in his chair.
“She shouldn’t have gone off alone. I can’t believe you would be so irresponsible as to let her leave. We would have figured something out…we could…” His voice trailed off as he caught the look Kendra gave him. She was right. As much research as they could have done, nothing would have been enough. By staying here, Buffy would have announced her location to the Order of Taraka and practically begged them to come after her.
“Buffy,” Willow whimpered softly. “She’s out there all alone, Giles. Oh God! What are we gonna tell her mother?”
“I don’t know, Willow. I don’t know.”
~*~*~*~*~
It was quiet inside the blackened-out Desoto as they made their way along Highway 10 out of the city. They’d been driving for several hours, no clear destination in mind. It was probably for the best – if they didn’t know where they were going, there was no way the Order’s assassins would know where they were either.
“Spike?” she called his name in a soft voice, her eyes fixed on the road in front of them.
“Yeah, pet.”
“Where would…that is…uh…” her voice trailed off.
Spike continued to drive down the road. He knew what she wanted to say, to ask; he just didn’t know if he was ready to talk about it yet.
“Where was his most favorite place?” The words slipped from her mouth almost ten minutes later. Neither looked at the other, both thinking back to that moment when they'd watched as the two vampires had turned to dust before their eyes.
“Don’t rightly know,” he answered softly.
“Ok.” If it weren’t for his enhanced vampiric hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her.
They were almost to Phoenix when she spoke again.
“What about Drusilla? Where will you take her?” She didn’t know why she asked. She didn’t think he’d answer her. She was just trying to get some sort of idea for a final resting place for Angel. As much as she may want to, she couldn’t keep lugging his ashes with her – something was bound to happen to them. Better for his final resting place to be someplace that Angel might have called home.
Spike surprised himself by answering the Slayer.
“She was destined for the convent before she was turned. It’s only fittin' that she return there.”
Buffy turned her face to look at him. His jaw was working furiously, trying to keep his emotions in check. She could see his hands fisted around the steering wheel; she just hoped he didn’t pull the thing off in his anger.
She lifted her hand as if to place it on his shoulder, possibly offer him some small type of comfort. He must have caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, because he turned away from the slit in the front window to glance at her.
Pain burned in the depths of his deep blue eyes. Buffy knew it because she was sure the same was reflected in her own.
“I…thanks,” she murmured, dropping her hand without touching him. A half smile played about his lips before he turned back to the road.
~*~*~*~*~
When the sun finally set, Spike pulled into the first motel he could find. He was starting to get hungry, but wanted to get the Slayer settled for the night before hunting for food.
“Hungry?” he asked her when he came back to the car with their key.
She just shook her head and climbed out of the car, grabbing her duffle from the back seat. He’d picked a corner ground floor unit this time, not that they’d had to worry about too many neighbors at this rundown hellhole. But as long as the sheets were clean and the water was hot, she didn’t care.
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, not bothering to look back to see if he came in or not. She knew he was hungry, and she just didn’t have it in her to stop him.
She dropped her bag on the bed and continued walking towards the bathroom.
Spike watched the Slayer for a moment. She looked defeated, her shoulders slumped as if she carried the weight of the world on them. Shaking off his concern, he turned and made his way to the door. Her whispered words haunted him as he opened the door to leave.
“Don’t prey on the innocent.”
Spike stayed out for several hours. Each time he saw an easy meal, he held back – her words whispering through his head in a silent plea. Frustrated at himself, he finally scoped out a seedy bar to engage in a little sport to ease some of the tension pervading his body. And, he could just as easily find dinner here as well. Smiling for the first time in hours, he made his way across the street to where two men were engaging in a knife fight outside the front door.
An evil chuckle escaped his mouth upon spying the name of the bar: Hellraisers.
Oh yeah, he’d fit right in here.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike let himself back into their room around 1a.m., his body slightly warmed by the fresh blood he’d recently consumed. And he’d even listened to the Slayer, choosing two men with evil streaks a mile wide. Or, so they'd thought until encountering him. He’d gloried in their fear as he’d drained first one and then the other in the alley behind the bar.
He locked the door behind him, securing the chain. Pulling off his duster, he let it fall over the back of a chair. He checked the curtains, making sure that no stray beam could peek in and burn him in the morning. Satisfied, he sat down on the vacant bed and pulled off his boots and socks before removing his shirts. Naked but for the jeans riding low on his hips, he moved to pull back the covers on his own bed, but stopped.
His head cocked to the side as he listened.
There it was again. A soft sound, almost like a moan. His eyes narrowed on the Slayer as she lay curled in a ball on the other bed. He frowned when he noticed her slight frame shake. Then he figured out what she was doing…she was crying. In her sleep.
Walking towards the other bed, he gazed down at her. Tears were falling from beneath her closed lids in wet streaks down her face. In her arms, she held a container close to her. Angel. She must be having a nightmare.
Realizing he wouldn’t get any sleep with her crying all night, he reached down and gently pulled the box from her hands. He walked over to the dresser and set the container aside. Calling himself all kinds of fools, he slipped under the covers in bed next to her. He tried not to wake her as he pulled her back into his arms and held her close.
She seemed to calm somewhat at his touch, and the silent sobs wracking her body eventually stopped. A contented sigh escaped the vampire’s lips as he snuggled close to the Slayer’s warm body and allowed the slow, even beat of her heart lull him to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy woke to the feel of a cool, bare chest beneath her cheek, her bare legs entangled with a pair encased in denim. Twin arms wrapped around her back holding her close, almost in a protective gesture. Still half asleep, she snuggled closer to the body wrapped around hers and let out a sigh as he tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer.
It felt so good just to be held like that. She felt safe.
Tilting her head back, she opened her eyes and wasn’t surprised to see blue eyes gazing down at her. She just watched him watching her, lost in his cerulean depths.
She couldn’t be quite sure who made the first move, or if it was by some mutual understanding. His head dipped as hers rose, and then their lips were touching.
‘His lips are so soft,’ was the vague thought circling in her brain as his lips roamed back and forth across hers. When he began nibbling on her lower lip, her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed herself to be swept away by the unexpected desire flooding her body at his touch.
His tongue flicked out to tease her lips, silently begging entrance. She hesitated and he stopped the trail of his tongue and went back to nibbling at her lower lip.
‘God, he’s good at this,’ she thought, just before he sucked her lip into his mouth. She couldn’t prevent the soft moan that rumbled from somewhere in the back of her throat before escaping her now parted lips.
Spike took advantage of her brief lapse, slipping his tongue inside to see how good she tasted. Her heat was intoxicating and he answered her low moan with a growl of his own. One of his hands slipped from behind her back to cup her jaw, his thumb sliding idly back and forth along her skin as his tongue plundered her mouth.
When she used her tongue to begin a timid duel with his own, he was lost. Her innocence captivated him and he found the tenuous hold on his control slip.
Her shyness quickly gave way and she tore her lips from his so she could use her tongue to mimic what he had done to her. The pink tip darted out to circle his parted lips. Then, she grew bolder, worrying his retracted canines, unknowingly hitting on one of his most erogenous zones. Spike couldn’t prevent the growl that erupted from him at her touch, and he wondered briefly if she had any idea how erotic it was to have her tongue trace his teeth like that.
He needed to feel the weight of her body against him. Using the arm still molded around her back, he held her tight as he rolled to his back, allowing her body to drape over the top of his. His chest seemed to burn where her hardened nipples bore into him through the thin material of her nightshirt. He let her set the pace, not wanting to scare her off…but, god, she was driving him crazy. He needed to take control, devour her like she was slowly devouring him.
His fingers fisted in her new raven-colored locks and gently tugged her head back, breaking their kiss and exposing the long column of her neck to his gaze. His lips whispered along her jaw and down her neck. He felt her breath hitch and he began lightly nibbling up and down her throat.
When she offered no signs of protest to his ministrations, he gave into the lust that was consuming him and rolled them over so that he lay on top of her. His lips blazed a trail to her ear, his teeth gently nibbling on her lobe. The tip of his tongue traced a path along the shell of her ear.
Buffy moaned as Spike alternately nipped and sucked at her earlobe. His cool breath as it whispered over the wet trail he was leaving was doing crazy things to her sensory circuits. She felt like she was about to spontaneously combust at the heat generating through her body.
“God… Spike,” she whimpered and tried to pull him even closer.
“Mmmmm, pet, you taste so good,” he whispered hoarsely.
Suddenly, he stopped, his whole body going rigid as he lay on top of her. Her eyes fluttered open in confusion, just in time to see his blue eyes give way to amber, ridges on his brow forming as his demonic features slipped into place. Before Buffy had time to react, Spike launched himself off of her just as the motel door burst open and two assassins stormed inside.
Buffy, clad in only a t-shirt and panties, scrambled off the bed just as one of the assassins charged her. Spike had engaged the other, but he was hampered by the sunlight streaming in through the open door. She darted around the foot of the bed and quickly kicked the door shut before rushing to her bag and grabbing the first weapon she put her hand on.
She remained crouched on the floor next to her bag as the assassin charged her again. Just before he reached her, she came up swinging with her axe. Her attacker managed to duck at the last moment and avoid the blow aimed at his head. The Order apparently knew its business, sending humans after her. But, they were sadly mistaken if they thought that she wouldn’t kill one to save her own life. Her Slayer honor code only stretched so far.
She was too concentrated on her fight with her attacker to pay much attention to Spike and how he was handling his, but she nearly faltered when she heard him cry out in pain, right before he roared in agony. The bastard had just sprayed him with holy water and followed it up with a stake that landed just wide of its intended target. His attacker was leaning over him with a second stake aimed straight at his heart, and Buffy saw red.
In a blink of an eye, the axe in her hand soared through the air to imbed itself in the assassin’s back. She watched as he crumpled beside Spike before turning back to confront the remaining assassin.
The other had paused, momentarily perplexed that she had killed a human bent on destroying a vampire. Seeing his confusion, she smirked at him.
“What? Didn’t think I’d kill a human because I’m the Slayer?” she asked rhetorically, sarcasm dripping heavily from her voice. She watched his eyes widen when he realized that it was the Slayer standing before him, not some vamp meal. A smile touched her lips that her disguise had seemed to be working. Good thing this assassin wasn’t going to live long enough to enlighten the Order as to her changed appearance.
“Oh, I’m sorry…you’re get-out-of-jail card expired the moment your Order tried to kill me. Human, demon… makes no difference to me who you guys send. You’re one and the same.”
To prove her point, she cart wheeled in the slight aisle at the foot of the bed towards the fallen assassin and ripped the axe from his back as she came to her feet. The axe left her hand before the remaining attacker had time to prepare, and his eyes widened in amazement before glazing over as he too slumped to the floor in a heap, the axe buried deep in his chest.
Once assured he was dead, Buffy turned to where Spike lay on the ground desperately trying to pull the stake from his chest. His torso was crimson from the blood pouring out of the wound; angry welts arced across his chest, arms, and face from where the holy water was thrown on him.
“Spike,” she called softly as she cradled his head in her lap.
“Slayer…hurts…pull it out…” he whimpered, before he passed out from the pain.
She eyed the stake protruding from his chest as blood seeped out around it. If she pulled it out now, she’d have to concentrate on stemming the flow and they wouldn’t be able to get out of there. Reaching a decision, she laid his head back on the floor. She grabbed her jeans and threw them on.
Racing around the room, she packed as quickly as possible and loaded their stuff in the car. Back in the motel room, she grabbed a sheet from the bed and started ripping it into strips. She knelt down by Spike and yanked the stake out in one quick pull. Immediately, blood welled from the gaping hole in his chest. She grabbed the strips she had made and set about wrapping them around his wound.
When she was finished, she pulled and prodded and finally managed to get him on the bed. Rushing back outside, she opened the passenger door of his Desoto. She hurried back to the room and wrapped him in the comforter. It was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe because he was wrapped tight, allowing no room for the harmful rays of the sun to sneak inside.
She lifted him fireman-style over her shoulder and walked out the open door to the car, careful not to jar him too much and start his wound bleeding again. When he was tucked inside, she shut the car door and hurried around to the other side.
‘This is going to be an adventure,’ she thought as she slipped behind the steering wheel and started the engine. She wasn’t the best driver in the world…who was she kidding? She was the worst. But, they needed to get away from there as quickly as possible. They couldn’t wait for nightfall to come so that Spike…shoot, she wasn’t even sure IF Spike could drive. It was up to her to get some distance between them and their old motel room.
She wondered how the Order had found them. Swinging onto the road, she gunned the Desoto. It was amazing what she could do when she put her mind to it. She hadn’t panicked and now seemed to be doing fairly well with this whole driving thing.
Driving.
Desoto.
Spike’s Desoto.
They needed to ditch the car. Crap. That wasn’t going to make Spike too happy.